#unsettled after experiencing something that makes them going into questioning all over again | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heecase · 1 year

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Bruises

Synopsis: What would you do if the love of your life broke up with you and just disappeared? Would you follow him to get answers or would you accept it and move on? But how can you move on when you still have the bruises that he left behind? Pairing: Jay x Fem! Reader Word Count: 7.6k Genre: Angst, fluff (eventually)

If someone were to ask you what is the most painful thing you’ve been through, how would you respond? Would you say it was the time you broke your arm in the 5th grade, falling off the monkey bars? Or is it the time when you fell off your bike and scraped up the whole left side of your shin? Either way, you were naive to think that pain was only a physical feeling because if you were to tell the truth, the most painful thing you’ve ever experienced was not physical at all. It was a deep emotional pain that would leave a bruise on your heart forever.

The day Jay left was just like any other day. The sun was shining brightly in the blue sky, not a cloud to be seen. Nothing could have indicated that there was a shift in the atmosphere. That something terrible was about to happen. Jay was sitting on a barstool at your kitchen island, scrolling through his phone, as you stood over a boiling pot of ramyeon.

“Y/n, can we talk?” He asked, voice so soft you almost didn’t catch it. His phone was still in his hand, but his attention was on you.

“Yeah?” You replied, raising a brow at him. Urging him to continue.

“Can you come over here?” The tone of his voice was making you unsettled, but you decided to ignore the warning signs. You should’ve listened to your gut. If you did, would things have changed?

“Sure.” You finished preparing the ramyeon and made your way over with the pot and two pairs of chopsticks. “What did you want to talk about?” You asked, grabbing some noodles from the pot and placing them in your bowl to cool down.

“Are you happy?” He questioned, not moving to join you as you indulged in the food on the table.

“Yes? Is this a trick question?” You tilted your head at him. Anxiety starts to consume you as you wonder what prompted him to ask such a thing.

“No, it’s not. I just want to know if you’re actually really happy, like with me.” He was staring into your eyes, almost like he was searching for something. An answer that you didn’t know existed.

“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” You responded, confusion and anxiety started to mix and you felt your chest swell. Did you do something wrong? Why was he asking you these questions?

“I’m sorry. That was a stupid question.” He said, finally breaking eye contact. He looked down at his lap and shook his head slightly. You watched as he nibbled on his bottom lip, thinking hard about something.

“Is something wrong?” You asked, reaching over to grab his fidgety hands.

“I… I think we should take a break.” He whispered, no longer having the courage to look at your face.

“What?” You gasped, letting go of his hands. “Jay this isn’t funny. Tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m sorry. I want to break up.” He says, more confident this time.

“Jay, what’s going on?” Your hand flew up to cover your mouth as tears started to sting your eyes.

“I’m sorry.” That was the last thing he said before he got up and walked out your front door. You were too shocked to try and follow him, but once reality hit, you ran after him. However you weren’t able to find him. You called him repeatedly but he never answered. You went to his home, and he wasn’t there. You went to every single place you could think of, but he was nowhere to be found. After a few days of your endless chasing, your body gave out as you were crying on Yunjin’s couch. You didn’t realize it, but you haven’t eaten any food or drank any water since he left. The ramyeon you made was long forgotten, still sitting on your kitchen island. All you could feel was confusion on top of your pain. You wanted to see him again and talk to him. Ask him why? Why was he doing this?

“Y/n, please eat something.” Your best friend, Yunjin, pleaded. She was sitting on the edge of the bed with a tray in hand, staring at your unmoved body. How long has it been since you’ve been laying down? Probably too long at this point. What if Jay is long gone and you’ll never see him again? You curl up into the fetal position as more tears leak out of your eyes.

“I know you’re going through a hard time but you can’t just starve to death.” She sighed when you didn’t even move to acknowledge her.

“Jay wouldn’t want this.” She said, as your body tensed up at the mention of his name. She noticed the shift and immediately felt guilty for bringing up the one person who caused you all this pain.

“I’m sorry… I’m gonna leave this tray here, please try to eat something. Please.” She sighed, placing the tray on the bedside table before retreating from the room. From the other side of the door, you could hear her on the phone with someone.

“She’s barely alive as it is! I’m terrified right now…” Hearing her voice break as you assumed she started crying. You felt terrible for putting Yunjin through this when this was all your fault. You did something wrong. Jay left because of you.

“Jake, I need you to do something about this before I lose my mind!” Her hushed voice said with urgency. You knew what she was trying to do but you felt like it was pointless. You’ve been searching for days and Jay was nowhere to be found. All of his friends didn’t even know where he was. It was like he vanished into thin air. But if he knew what you were going through would he come back? If you held out for a little longer, would he realize how much you love him? As you thought more about why Jay left, your lungs betrayed you. Breathing was becoming a chore and you just wanted all the pain to go away. Closing your eyes, you let the darkness consume you as more tears fell.

“How long has she been like this?” A male voice pulled you out of your dreamless slumber. In your delusion, you thought the voice belonged to Jay but once you came to you realized you were wrong.

“A few days. She hasn’t been back to her place since he left. For the first few days, she would leave to go find him even though I told her it was pointless. But when she came back yesterday, she collapsed at the front door and I brought her in here.” Yunjin explained, tears running down her face.

“That fucking idiot! Where the hell is he?” The male voice, who you now recognize as Jake, sighed in frustration.

“Are you still not able to get in contact with him?” She questioned, frustration clear in her voice as well.

“No, I’ve asked Heeseung and Sunghoon to look for him as well and they’ll let me know if they find him. But god forbid, if they find him. I might just kill him myself.” He spat, voice laced with venom. A ringing was heard as Jake answered his phone.

“Where is he?” Jake asked the person on the other line. Your eyes went wide and you turned around to look at him. Your body is so weak, it physically hurts to move but you didn’t care. All you cared about was Jay.

“Oh my god, Y/n, are you okay? How are you feeling?” Yunjin questioned as she rushed to your side. You didn’t answer her, eyes focused on Jake and his conversation.

“Yeah, I’ll let her know. Thanks guys.” He sighed, before hanging up. He gave you a sweet smile as he walked over to sit on the side of the bed. “How are you feeling honey?” He tucked a stray hair behind your ear as he caressed your cheek.

“Where is he?” You croaked out. Your throat was too dry for your normal voice to work properly.

“We can talk about that later.” He responded, grabbing your hand to rub soothing circles over the skin. “We need to take care of you first, okay?”

“Please.” You whispered, as more tears fell from your eyes. Jake didn’t know what to do. If he told you, then you would insist on going to him even in your rough state. But he also couldn’t stand to sit here and watch you slowly kill yourself over Jay. You watched as Jake and Yunjin communicated with their eyes. Yunjin shaking her head no before Jake sighed and looked at you again

“He’s at Jungwon’s place.” He answered, as Yunjin sighed. “If you want to go see him, I can take you but you have to let us take care of you first.” You looked at him with hope in your eyes as you nodded enthusiastically. Anything. You were willing to do anything to get Jay back.

As you sat on the bed, eating what Yunjin provided, you thought about what you should say when you finally get to see him. Should you ask him why he left when you thought everything was going well? Or should you skip all that and just beg for him to come back? Does it even matter why he left? As long as you get him back in the end? There were just too many options and you didn’t know which one was the right one. Which option did you need to choose for him to take you back?

“Y/n, sweetie, I need you to be honest with me. If Jay isn’t willing to listen to you or mend your relationship, what are you going to do?” Yunjin asked carefully.

“I don’t know…” You responded honestly. “I love him so much it hurts and I feel like my head is being pushed under water. I’m drowning without him. I can’t breathe. I’m exhausted and I don’t know what to do about it.”

“Y/n, I know you love him, but if he doesn’t love you back then there’s no use in killing yourself over him. He’s not worth all of the pain you’re putting yourself through.” Jake sighed, clearly upset and frustrated at your lack of self preservation.

“You don’t understand…” You said, tears forming in your eyes again. “He left without an explanation as to why he wanted to break up and I don’t think I can move on until I figure that out. I feel like he took my heart with him when he walked out that door. I’m just an empty shell, waiting for him to put me back together again.”

“Oh sweetie, you’re an amazing person and if he can’t see that then it’s his loss.” Yunjin said, stroking your arm lightly.

“But what if I was the problem? What if I did something for him to act like this? What if I ruined the best thing that’s ever happened to me? How am I supposed to move on?” Your brows furrowed as you wracked your brain for an answer. Your friends stopped arguing with you because it seems like nothing they said would help. They looked at each other with worry as they braced themselves for what’s to come.

The ride to Jungwon’s apartment complex was tense. No one knew what was going to happen and everyone was scared that you wouldn’t make it out of this encounter in one piece. Jake’s knuckles turned white, as his grip on the steering wheel got tighter. He wanted to turn around and keep you away from Jay. Away from any pain that he will indelibly cause you but he couldn’t do that because you would hate him for it. He couldn’t live with you hating him, even if all of his effort was to protect you. He hated that at the end of the day, you would still choose Jay over anyone else. Over him.

“We’re here.” Jake said softly, as he parked the car in front of a tall apartment building. You didn’t say anything, as you got out of the car and followed Jake inside, with Yunjin by your side holding your hand. The trek was long and your anxiety was starting to eat you alive. What if this was a bad idea? What would you do if Jay refuses to see you? He clearly didn’t want to be found, so what if he’s just more angry that you show up out of the blue? Was this just going to make everything worse? Doubt was swirling around your head, as you followed closely behind Jake. You didn’t realize you arrived until you bumped into Jake’s back by accident. He turned around and stared at you with the saddest eyes you’ve ever seen.

“Are you ready?” Yunjin asked, squeezing your hand softly. You nodded, still unsure but it was now or never. Jake reached up and rang the doorbell. A soft shuffle could be heard from the other side before the door was pushed open.

“Hey.” Heeseung said, voice low. His heart broke as he made eye contact with you. He couldn’t believe how broken you looked and it was all because of his best friend. Guilt started to spread through his body, as he stepped aside to let you all in. He grabbed Jake’s wrist to hold him behind, making sure you didn’t notice. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Look at her. Do you think we have any other choice?” Jake responded, pushing his way past Heeseung to follow you into the living room. As you walked into the room, your eyes immediately locked onto his figure. No one else in the room existed.

“Hi.” You whispered, afraid if you spoke any louder he would disappear into thin air. Jay looked up from his phone with a shocked expression on his face. He wasn’t expecting you to show up here but he should’ve known since all of his friends were also your friends. His eyes met Heeseung in the hallway, as the older boy shrugged.

“Hey.” He managed to choke out. His eyes automatically come back to look at you. You looked thinner and awfully pale. He could tell you weren’t feeling well based on the way you held yourself, but he couldn’t do anything about it. He broke up with you. The two of you stared at each other for a few seconds before Jake broke the silence.

“Hey, asshole.” Jake said, leaning against the wall directly next to you. Jay was taken aback by the insult but before he could fire one back, you grabbed his hand and led him to presumably Jungwon’s bedroom. You shut the door and took a deep breath to gather your courage before turning around to face him.

“Can we talk?” You asked, moving past him to sit on the bed. He didn’t answer you as he sat on a chair at the desk across from you. You frowned at the distance he was putting between you. “Why did you leave like that?” You choked out, trying your best to hold back your tears. Just coming face to face with him was enough to break you all over again.

“Don’t do this, please.” Jay sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Do what? What am I doing wrong?” You asked, begging him for answers. You wanted to move towards him but his tone stopped you.

“Nothing! You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one who fucked up so I’m taking responsibility for it! You shouldn’t be with someone like me.” He said, raising his voice louder than he meant to.

“What are you talking about? What did you do?” You whispered, multiple thoughts started running through your head.

“Please don’t make me say it.” He begged you to take the hint and just leave.

“Jongseong! What did you do?!” You asked again, anger taking over and you could no longer think straight.

“I fucking cheated, okay?! Is that what you wanted to hear? That I went out, got wasted and kissed someone else?” He yelled, throwing his hand in the air in frustration.

“What are you talking about?! Jay there’s no way. You would never do something like that!” You were so confused. This wasn’t like him.

“Well it’s the truth. I was upset at you so I drowned myself in alcohol. Before I knew what was going on, that girl was all over me. She kissed me and I kissed her back. All because I was so mad at you.” He explained.

“You know I didn’t mean to make you upset! My dad called me saying my mom was in the hospital, what was I supposed to do? Not drop everything and go to her?” You questioned, flabbergasted at his reasoning for cheating.

“I don’t fucking know!” He yelled back. “I did what I had to do. I broke up with you. So why are you here?”

“Because I still love you dammit!” You yelled, as your hand made contact with his cheek. Your hand burned but you didn’t care. Everything you knew was a lie and it was all unfolding before your eyes.

“Well I don’t love you anymore. You should leave.” He said, voice low. He dropped his head, trying to hide the tears that were falling against his will.

“I can’t believe you.” You gasped, before exiting the room. Yunjin and Jake followed, as you ran out of Jungwon’s apartment. Jungwon looked at your retreating back with pity, as he walked over to where Jay still stood.

“Hyung, why did you do that? Why didn’t you just tell her the truth?” He questioned, staring at his friend’s tear stained face.

“Because I would rather she hate me now and eventually move on, then for her to miss me everyday after I’m gone.” Jay responded, falling on the floor as his sobs consumed him.

Pain is supposed to be subjective. Most associate pain to physical injuries, but you now know that pain can be both physical and emotional. You just didn’t know that the emotional pain Jay caused would feel like your heart is being ripped out of your chest. Yunjin held you all the way back to her apartment, as you cried. You were weak and the overwhelming feelings rushing through your body made you dizzy. Before you knew what was happening, you felt darkness consume you.

“We need to take her to the hospital!” Yunjin’s voice reached your ears. She sounded frantic, and you wanted to comfort her but your body felt too heavy to move.

“You know we can’t do that! We’re not her guardian, so they’ll call her parents and the last thing she needs is for them to find out.” Jake’s voice responded, equally as frustrated.

“Jake, I’m scared. What if she doesn’t wake up?” A sob was heard as she finished the sentence. Why would you not wake up? You’re awake right now.

“She will. We just have to keep an eye on her.” He said, as you felt a hand stroke your hair. You wanted to lean into his touch but you weren’t strong enough, so you just let his soft gesture null you back to sleep.

Your eyelids feel heavy, as you rip your eyes open. The dimly lit room looked awfully unfamiliar to you. Where were you? And what were you doing here? Sitting up, you felt like your body weighed 10 times heavier than before. The weak muscles in your arms barely get the job done. Feeling the shift on the bed, Yunjin bolted awake.

“Y/n! You’re awake!” She sobbed, pulling you into a hug. Jake, having heard her, ran into the room with a pot in his hand. Staring at you with wide eyes, he shot you a beaming smile.

“How long have I been sleeping?” You asked, coughing slightly at your dry irritated throat.

“Two days.” She said, pulling back and looking you in the eyes. You could tell she was searching for any other signs of discomfort.

“I’m sorry. You’re both having a hard time because of me.” You signed, looking down at your hands.

“Sweetie, it’s okay. You know I would do anything for you.” Yunjin places her hand on top of yours and gives you a slight squeeze.

“Me too.” Jake chimed in, waving his pot. You let yourself smile slightly at your friends. You weren’t okay but for them you were going to try to be. Jay told you the truth, so now you have to be the bigger person and let him go. Even if the thought alone makes you want to dig a hole and never come out.

One interesting thing about bruises is the healing cycle. They usually start out very deep and purple but eventually they fade to green, then yellow, and before you know it, the bruise is gone. But just because you couldn’t see it anymore doesn’t mean your body doesn’t remember the pain it caused.

It’s been 6 months since you’ve last seen Jay at Jungwon’s apartment. You still think back to that day every so often. The bruises he left eventually healed, so you’re back to living your normal life. Well as normal as it can be for now. You broke the lease to your apartment and moved into an empty unit in Yunjin’s apartment complex. Just the thought of living in the place that held so many wonderful memories, hurt more than you could've imagined. But what’s done is done and there’s no going back now.

“Y/n, are you okay?” Jake asked, waving a hand in front of your face. You two were currently sitting at a small cafe near your work. Jake had insisted on seeing you today for some reason.

“Yeah. Sorry, I just have a lot on my mind today.” You smiled, sipping your coffee to help ease the awkwardness.

“It’s okay. I was just making sure.” He beamed his golden retriever smile at you, making you feel 10 times better.

“So, what’s the plan for tonight?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him. You knew he wanted to meet to ask you to do something again.

“How did you know?” He faked, shocked, placing a hand on his chest like you had wounded him with your words.

“Because you always offer to buy me coffee when you want something.” You roll your eyes at him continuing his shocked act.

“As your friend, I am offended that you would think I only buy you coffee when I want something from you.” He paused. “But if you’re not doing anything, the new Antman movie is coming out tonight and I really don’t want to go alone.”

“See! I knew you wanted something!” You pointed your finger at him and laughed, but you agreed to go with him anyway. Mainly because you also wanted to watch the movie, but his puppy dog eyes were definitely helpful too.

As you sat down in the cinema, you reached over to grab some popcorn out of the bucket Jake was holding. Jake briefed you on his rules that you had to follow when watching a Marvel movie. Don’t talk during the movie, don’t ask questions, and most importantly don’t do anything that will distract him. You giggled as he put on his serious face, when the lights dimmed. Half way through, you noticed Jake kept pulling his phone out and huffing in annoyance. It looked like someone kept calling him but he was ignoring their calls. You didn’t want to be nosy so you turned your focus back to the movie.

“That was so awesome! I want to be a superhero too.” Jake pouted as you walked out of the theater.

“I don’t think that’s possible, Jakey.” You patted his head as you headed towards the restrooms. As you made your way back to where Jake was standing, you overheard him talking on the phone.

“Fuck. Are you sure?” He paused. “She’s finally feeling better, dude. Don’t make me do this.” Who was he talking to? “I know, okay. Fuck. I’ll call you later.” He quickly ended the call when he saw you out of the corner of his eye.

“Is everything okay?” You asked, eyeing him up and down.

“Yup. Are you ready to go?” You nodded as he pushed himself off the wall and ushered you to the exit.

Jake’s words stay on your mind as you try to sleep. Who was he talking to? Why was he so upset? You always had a bad habit of letting your curiosity get the better of you. So as you laid in bed and pondered what was going on, Jake was laying in bed trying to figure out what he was going to do. As Heeseung’s words play over and over in his mind.

“Are you guys sure everything is okay?” You asked again for the millionth time. You were having lunch with Jake and Yunjin, but they kept giving each other weird looks all throughout the meal and it was starting to bother you. It was like they both knew something you didn’t and that made you upset.

“Of course, sweetie.” Yunjin smiled but it didn’t quite reach her eyes, which made you more upset.

“Can you please tell me what’s going on? I can tell you both know something I don’t and you’re both awful at keeping secrets.” You sighed, putting down your chopsticks and crossing your arms over your chest.

“Nothing is going on, right Jake.” Yunjin elbowed Jake in the rib, making him yelp in pain. As he rubbed the sore spot, he nodded, not making eye contact with you.

“I don’t like it that you’re keeping something from me. Am I not a good enough friend to you?” You pouted, almost tearing up at the thought that you might’ve done something wrong and that’s why they’re acting like this.

“Y/n, you’re a great friend!” Jake quickly said, nudging Yunjin to join.

“You’re my best friend! I would never keep anything from you.”

“Then tell me what’s going on!” You eyed them both as you allowed a pity tear to fall down your cheek. They both looked at each other before answering.

“Jungwon wants to see you-”

“Heeseung wants to see you-” They both answered at the same time.

“Wait what? Why would either one of them want to see me?” You tilted your head in confusion. Sure they were both your ‘friends’ but that was only because they were Jay’s friends first. After the break up, you haven’t spoken to either of them.

“You’ll know once you talk to them, but they’re both insisting that you go see them.” Jake said softly. You didn’t know why but you agreed so here you are, a few days later, sitting across from both Jungwon and Heeseung, with Jake and Yunjin by your side.

“I know this was uncalled for, but we have to tell you something.” Jungwon said, reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. “Jay isn’t doing too well and I think he really needs you right now.”

“What are you talking about? We broke up months ago and haven’t talked to each other since.” Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“He went back to the U.S and it’s been a couple of months. We thought he was finally getting better, but his mother is scared he has lost his will to live. Y/n, he really needs you right now. Please.” Heeseung sighed, looking up at you. He noticed the utter confusion on your features and that’s when it hit him. You don’t know anything. He glanced over at Jake and the boy shook his head to confirm his suspensions. “Have you heard anything about Jay since the last time we saw each other?” He signed again after you shook your head.

“Jay is sick, Y/n. He found out he has a brain tumor when you were still together and decided that he wanted to handle this himself. So he made up some bullshit lie and broke up with you. He wanted to make sure you hated him before he left for the U.S with his mom to figure out how to fix it. We found out a month ago that the surgery went well but he’s still in a coma. His mother called crying because she doesn’t understand why he won’t wake up. The doctors keep telling her to wait but she’s starting to get restless, so she told us to get you.” Jungwon turned his phone around so you could look at the screen. It was a picture of Jay in a beanie and hospital gown, looking tired and pale. He was smiling but it wasn’t reaching his eyes. The text underneath said ‘going into surgery’. “I’m sorry y/n we thought you might’ve caught on to what he was doing. I didn’t know that you were being kept in the dark.”

You felt tears start to fall as you stared at the phone screen. You didn’t understand anything. Why did he leave you if he was sick? And why didn’t you notice something like this was going on?

“He needs you right now, Y/n. Please, can you go to him?” Heeseung pleaded. He knew Jay was going to kill him once he found out that they told you, but at this point Jay wasn’t going to make it without you.

“Okay…” You choked out.

So you sorted things out with work and hopped on the next available plane to California. You didn’t really know what you were doing or what you were getting yourself into but here you were about to risk it all for him. Somewhere deep inside your heart, you knew that everything Jay had said before was a lie. At first it felt like a coping mechanism to the break up because it was easier to accept that he had simply fallen out of love with you since anything would be better than imagining him cheating on you. So you hung onto that thought. Since the beginning you never really blamed him for how things ended but you also never forgave him for hurting you so much. You stayed in limbo but as things are starting to unfold so are the barriers you’ve created to shield your bruised and damaged heart.

Once you landed at the airport, an older gentleman was there to meet you just like Heeseung had explained. He helped you with your bags and led you to the car.

“Are we going to the hospital?” You asked, buckling your seatbelt from the back seat.

“Yes, Madam Park will see you there.” He answered before booking it towards the hospital. Once you arrived, the older male escorted you to the room where Jay and his mother were.

You carefully opened the door and entered. The room felt warmer than the hallway and when you rounded the corner, your eyes landed on Jay. Laying in the hospital bed, wearing the same hospital gown and beanie as the picture you saw previously, hooked up to all sorts of machines and hanging on for dear life.

“You must be Y/n.” The unfamiliar voice broke you out of your daze. You nodded your head, eyes flickering back to Jay before returning to the older lady.

“I’m Jongseong’s mother. I’m so glad you’re here.” She waved you over to where she was sitting for you to take her place in the single chair beside his bed. “He hasn’t been doing well but I know he misses you dearly.”

“How did this happen?” You asked, hand to your mouth to suppress your sobs.

“Oh dear, the doctors don’t know. One day he just fainted and when I got to the hospital they told me he had developed a tumor in his brain. We didn’t know what to do. The doctors in Korea weren’t confident in that line of surgery, so they recommended we go to Dr. Adams here in California and so we did. After the surgery, the doctor said everything went smoothly and he should wake up in a couple of hours. But then he didn’t. It’s been almost a month and the doctors don’t know why he won’t wake up.” She grabbed your other hand and pressed a kiss to the back. “I’m sorry to ask this of you, but can you please talk to him. They say he can still hear us even when he’s like this. I’ve tried everything I can think of and the only time he’s ever responded was when I mentioned your name. His finger twitched but he still didn’t regain his consciousness.” You nodded, reaching up to hug the older lady as you both cried.

You’ve been in the hospital for a week and the doctors say Jay’s making progress. You don’t know what that mean but anything is better than nothing. You’ve been spending all of your time with him. Eating with him and telling him stories about your life. All of the events he’s missed from the past 6 months. You were determined to get through to him, mostly because you don’t know how you’ll be able to move on otherwise.

“Did you know that Jake wants to be a superhero now?” You chuckled slightly, thinking back to the fond memory.

“He’s such a little kid. I can’t believe we’re the same age sometimes.” You took the warm towel next to you and started to wipe down Jay’s skin. It’s something you’ve gotten accustomed to doing every night.

“Oh and there’s this new Boba place that opened near the chicken shop we used to order from all the time. It’s so good and I swear I go there 2 to 3 times a week.” You caressed his cheek lovingly. “We should go together next time. I think you’ll really like it.” It was hard to tear your eyes away from him but sometimes you have to or else you’ll just end up crying.

Taking a deep breath, you turn to him and smile again. “You know, I’m still not forgiving you for lying to me. You’ll have to work extra hard to win me back.” You finished up what you were doing and sat back down on your chair by his bed. You held his hand in yours as you laid your head down.

“I miss you so much. Please come back to me baby.” The words left your lips as you drifted off to sleep.

The feeling of someone playing with your hair woke you up. Your eyes open slowly, as you squint against the harsh light coming from the window. You turn your head, expecting to see Jay’s mom, but come face to face with Jay. Thinking you’re going crazy, you scream and jump back into the seat causing it to fall backwards and you with it.

“Y/n! Are you okay?” Jay asked, panic lacing his voice. He tried to reach out to you but his hand couldn’t reach.

“Ow.. I’m okay.” You responded, rubbing your sore elbow that took the blow for you. “Jay! You’re awake!” You quickly jumped up and wrapped your arms around his neck. His light chuckle makes you break away.

“The doctors. I have to call the doctors!” You stood up, but Jay’s hand stopped you from moving.

“It’s okay. They already know and they’ve checked me and I’m fine.” His thumb rubbing up and down on your arm to soothe your anxiety.

“When did you wake up?” You asked, sitting back down on the bed. Taking his other hand in yours.

“A couple hours ago. You had a death grip on my hand and they almost had to amputate it just to take me to get checked out.” He teased, as you threw his hand off to the side in a huff.

“I’m sorry for caring.” You crossed your arms and turned away from him.

“Hey, I was just joking.” His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to his body.

“Does your mom know?” You turned towards him, to get a good look at him. He looked a little better than before but not fully 100% yet. There was life in his eyes and a smile on his lips, as his hand continued to rub soothing circles on the back of yours.

“Yeah, she came by earlier. Said she would kill me if I woke you up.” He chuckled and you didn’t know you missed that sound so much until just now.

“I’m starting to think she likes you more than me and that’s not fair.” He jutted his bottom lip out in a pout.

“I’m sure you’re still number one in her heart.” You smiled, staring into his eyes. You’d missed this.

“I missed you.” He said, looking down at your hand in his.

“I missed you too.” You pulled him back into another hug.

The next few days went as expected. Jay had to stay to be monitored and you decided to stay with him and extend your ‘vacation’. You were currently trying, and somewhat failing, to peel an apple as Jay talked on facetime with the boys at home.

“Dude, we thought you were a goner for a little while there. Please don’t ever scare us like that again.” Jungwon pouted through the phone.

“I’ll try but there’s no guarantee that the tumor is gone for good. The doctor said he can’t see anything so far in the x-rays but that’s why they’re keeping me here for a little while longer.” Jay explained, reaching over to steal a piece of apple from the plate in front of you.

“Well we can see that you’re in good hands.” Heeseung teased, winking at no one in particular. Jay’s face flushed. He didn’t know what you were after all this time. He obviously still loves you but do you still love him? Were you just here out of obligation and guilt? He was too afraid to ask because he didn’t want this time with you to end.

“You guys should get some rest. It’s getting late over there.” Jay dismissed the boys and hung up before they could say anything else to embarrass him.

“They seem happy.” You commented, feeding him another piece of apple. Jay hummed an answer around the fruit. Just as you were about to give him another piece, your phone rings. The screen flashes Jake’s name and you excuse yourself to answer.

“Hey Y/n, how’s Jay doing?” Jake asked as you answered.

“Well hello to you to superman.” You chuckled. “He’s doing really well. I think he could be discharged in a few days.”

“That’s awesome! When are you coming back?” He asked, just as enthusiastically.

“Probably when he gets discharged. If I extend my vacation any longer, I’m not gonna have a job to return to.” You nibbled on your lips at the thought.

“Okay I’ll see you when you get back. Oh and Y/n?” You hummed to let him know you were still listening. “You should talk to him about everything. He did what he did because he loves you and I’m sure he still does.” You didn’t answer and let Jake hang up the phone.

Jay heard your phone call come to an end but you didn’t come back in. He was scared that you had moved on with Jake and he had lost his chance to explain himself. He started to fiddle with his hands when the door opened and you walked back inside.

“Who was that?” Jay asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Jake, he wanted to know how you were and when I was getting back.” You sat back down on your chair and picked up a piece of apple to munch on.

“When were you planning on going back?” Jay’s eyes didn’t meet yours when you looked up at him.

“Probably when you get discharged. Why?” You tilted your head, curious if he wanted you to leave sooner or something.

“Nothing. Just curious, that’s all.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.”

“Are you dating Jake?” He asked, making you almost choke. After your coughing fit and multiple gulps of water, you shook your head.

“No, I’m not. Why are you asking that?”

“I was just wondering, that’s all.” He paused for a second. “So, are you seeing anyone else?”

“No, I’m not Jay. What is with all the questions?” You grab his hand, trying to get him to look at you but he still refuses.

“I just want to know why you’re here.” He sighed, finally asking the question he’s been dying to know.

“What do you mean why? I’m here because I care about you.” You furrowed your brows as agitation started to boil in you.

“Yes, I know you still care but why? I cheated on you and broke up with you in the worst way possible. I figured you wouldn’t ever want to see my face again.”

“Jay, I know you didn’t really cheat on me. Jungwon and Heeseung already told me the truth. Why do you still insist on lying to me?” You stood up and started pacing back and forth to calm yourself down.

“They told you everything?” He gasped, eyes following your moving body.

“Yes! So when they begged me to go to you because your mother was worried sick when you wouldn’t wake up after the surgery, what was I supposed to do? Abandon you?” Tears stung behind your eyes as you bit your bottom lip to stop yourself from crying.

“After everything I did, I wouldn’t be surprised if you did.” He looked back down at his hands, mentally cursing at himself.

“Jay, I love you. I tried to move on. I tried to forget about you and us and everything because I had to. I couldn’t sit around and be depressed while Jake and Yunjin worried about me. It wasn’t fair to them so I did what I had to do. And you did what you had to as well. Except you lied to me. You should’ve told me you had cancer. I wouldn’t have abandoned you, if that’s what you thought. I could’ve been here for you and maybe you wouldn’t have been in a coma for a month if I was.” Your tears were no longer being held back now. They were streaming down your face in full force. Everything you’ve kept inside, since finding out the truth, was pouring out.

“You still love me?” He questioned.

“Is that all you heard from my whole speech?” You rolled your eyes at him.

“No, I heard everything, but why? Why would you still love me, after everything I did?”

“I don’t know. But a small part of me always knew that you might’ve been lying and I hung onto that. I thought the idea of you falling out of love with me was easier to bear.” You wiped aggressively at your cheeks, trying to stop crying.

“I still love you too, ya’know.” Jay’s eyes finally met yours and you could feel the sadness eluding from them.

“Then why did you lie to me? Why did we break up?”

“Because I was scared. I was scared that the chemo wouldn’t work. Which it didn’t. And the surgery was unpredictable. I couldn’t stand the thought of you having so much hope for me to get better and have it all ripped away if the opposite were to happen. I would rather you hate me for the rest of your life. Then to have you watch me die.” He was now crying too. You sat back down on the edge of his bed and pulled him into a hug.

“I understand you being scared. This is a very scary thing to go through, but I would have rather been with you in your last moments, than to find out you died through someone else.” You pulled away and gently wiped his tear stained cheeks.

“So you still love me?” He asked, arm wrapping around your waist.

“Yes.”

“Even though I lied to you?”

“Yes, but only because I understand why you did it.”

“Even though I look like a hot mess and currently have no hair and a giant scar on my head?” You laughed softly, kissing both his cheeks. The soft banter, making your bruised heart heal just a little more.

“Yes, because I don’t care how you look. At the end of the day, I’ll always love you.” He pulled you towards him and locked your lips. The kiss was soft and passionate. You felt his arm tighten around your waist as your hands went up to cup his cheeks. Tilting your head, you deepened the kiss. Trying to savor the feeling, as if you’ll never get to feel it again.

“Sweetie, the doctor said-” Jay’s mother’s voice rang, making you two pull apart. “Oh my, I’m sorry!”

“No no it’s okay!” You yelled, getting up to stop her from leaving but she had already closed the door. Mortified, you placed your head in your hands and groaned.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Jay asked, trying to pull your hands away.

“You mom just walked in on us making out and you’re asking me what’s wrong?” You groaned again, trying to ease the embarrassment.

“It’s okay, we’re grown adults. It’s not like she walked in on us having sex or someth-” You smacked his chest in horror.

“Stop! How could you say something like that??”

“What? It’s true.” He simply shrugged, making you sigh.

“So, will you still love me even when I’m old and gray, walking around with a cane cause my knees don’t work the same as they used to?” He asked, trying to cheer you up and he succeeded because you let out a soft giggle before kissing his lips again.

“Yes, yes I will.”

A/n: I know nothing about cancer so if anything is wrong I'm sorry T.T I also haven't watched the new Antman movie so no spoilers please! Anyways, I hope you enjoyed! Feedback is always welcomed :)

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carmendei-agere · 4 months

Text

CG!Diluc and Little!Venti

(venti getting overwhelmed in angel's share, and dadluc coming to the bard's aid.)

-aka a small draft I cooked up because I couldn't sleep.

Venti was never really one to be...quiet. it was an odd sight to see at the main bar of Angel's Share - Venti being completely silent. Usually he was up and about, yelling at other patrons across the bar, or playing his ballads, which would undoubtedly gain him a crowd and a half. A crowd for the fellow in green meant simply one thing:

Wine.

The bard would ask for payment in glasses of wine and only the richest apples, which he would snack on during his breaks.

But not tonight. For the entire night was his break.

Diluc finished serving a table, glancing at the other, who was slumped over his barside, quiet as a mouse. Not a single glass has been by his side all night, and he'd gotten to the tavern half an hour ago. Usually, not ordering or drinking anything would give Diluc the right to kick him out, but he could tell something was wrong.

"Venti." He simply said. "Are you okay?"

The bard in question forces a smile on his face, looking up at the man. "Why, of course." His voice is dead, long gone from this realm. Usually, he's cheery, but it was probably a facade.

"Do you want a drink?"

He simply nods, ordering apple juice, to his suprise.

Hours pass, and he seems to get worse. More patrons leave, and as the night progresses and more alcohol finally hits people's bodies, it gets louder. People start to yell, and there's a fight or two between people that doesn't escalate much, but Venti can see blood.

With the sight of the crimson dripping onto the wooden floorboards of the tavern, he leaves. It wasn't a lot, most likely sourced from a nosebleed, but he's seen enough blood in his lifetime. The door clicks behind him, and not a single patrons notices.

But Diluc does.

When Venti's able to calm down, he slips to the side of the building, and silently cries. It doesn't take Diluc two minutes to follow the sound, and find the other.

"Luc..." He coughs out. Diluc slips himself next to him, and he can't help but feel worry and concern course through his mind.

"I'm here, kiddo." He says. The 'kiddo' part wasn't really intentional, as he had cared for Kaeya a few days ago, and his brain was probably still in 'Caregiver' mode. Curses. "How do you feel, Venti?"

He sniffles, hardly able to get words out. "Fuzzy....an'...an' I wan' it to go away. But it won't...". He manages. "Am I dyin', Diluc?"

Diluc shakes his head. "You're not dying. Did the blood upset you?" Seemingly, he's attempting to change the subject.

"mhm." Venti nods, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. "I saw a lot of blood in th' Archon War. Blood is scary."

Diluc nods, offering his hand to the other. "I understand. War is scary, kiddo. You're so brave for going through that." Diluc is simply just testing the waters. He knows that Venti is the Anemo Archon, and that he's lived through almost 3000 years. He's sure to have seen things which have left him unsettled and traumatized no doubt.

Something that a mortal like him can hardly comprehend. But still, he tried to help.

"mhm. Had to hurt people, but I didn't wanna-" Venti choked out, curling up into Diluc's side in order to not burst out crying in the middle of the street.

"You said you felt fuzzy earlier, yes?"

Venti nods. "it happens sometimes, an' I don't know why. My brain just goes all..weird."

"and how do you make it stop, Venti? Have you found a way?'

He nods. "Sometimes I just get blankets and wrap them 'round myself. Sometimes it just goes away after a bit."

"you could be experiencing age regression, Venti."

The bard falls into silence once more. "What's that? Is it good...?"

"it depends how you look at it. It's when you feel like a kid again, and do kid things. There's a few things it's linked to, such as stress or PTSD." Judging by the fact that Venti's an archon, not to mention an old archon at that, he suggests that Venti has some form of PTSD, or maybe even some sort of survivor's guilt. But, he puts that aside and carries on for now. "Sometimes people can feel mentally young, and they do activities like that. They use items like pacifiers, teethers, bottles, you know?"

Venti shakes his head. "Never been a kid. You're just sayin' words."

Diluc chuckles, realising that he's right. "You're right. Just...try sucking on your thumb, it might help with your thoughts."

Venti nods, doing just that. He finds himself cooing and chirping at the feeling,

"you can chirp?" Diluc questions.

Venti nods. "Mhm. Wisp."

"ah, okay. Do you want to go back to your place tonight, or do you want-"

Diluc cuts himself off, as he feels Venti crawling into his lap. "No leaving me."

With a chuckle once more, he scoops the other up with an exaggerated grunt, resting the younger against his chest. "To the winery, I suppose."

Diluc trusts that Venti won't sneak to the basement and get himself intoxicated beyond relief, as he's probably very deep in his headspace, judging by the fact that his thumb hasn't left his mouth, and every single shiny thing under the night's sky seems to catch his attention.

Venti eventually settled into his shoulder, putting like a cat as he dozes off. Diluc lets him, making sure they he is safe and content before walking to the winery. He's sure to get the other fed and clothes, perhaps with a stuffed animal, too.

The thought of the bard being homeless passes his mind, but decides to leave that until Venti is much...bigger in headspace.

#age regression #genshin agere #sfw little community #agere post #genshin impact #genshin venti #agere caregiver #agere little #genshin diluc #genshin cg diluc #genshin little venti

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farfromstrange · 10 months

Text

Chaos Theory | Michael Kinsella x Reader

Chapter 22: Look At This Godforsaken Mess That You Made Me

Masterlist ° Chapter List

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Birdy invites you into her home for dinner, and you soon realize that her motivations might not be entirely selfless. And then, everything goes downhill when you bump into Frank and finally piece the puzzle together.

Warnings: ANGST, mentions of child death, protective Michael, violence, cursing, panic attack, we hate Frank and Amanda

Word Count: 11.2k

A/n: This got very long, but there's a lot of anger (mostly from Michael) and a lot of angst in here. Everything escalates in this one, so buckle up because this is gonna be a wild ride! Also, double update? Yay. I’m back in the writing flow.

Birdy invites you into her four walls with a warm smile.

“Make yourself at home, dear,” she tells you once you’ve stepped into the spacious house. “Here, let me take yer coat. Just turn right over there and you’ll be in the living room.”

You follow her finger and find your way to the living room. It’s cozy with a lot of space, a comfortable-looking couch, and an open kitchen. A lot more than you could afford for yourself, but as far as you can tell, this family you have found yourself in has more money than most people because of what they do (even though it’s highly illegal, you have to commend them for being consistent and making good money that keeps the entire family going, including Michael. If you look over the murder and the drugs, of course.)

It’s almost funny to you that only a few weeks ago, you were living in your bubble and wanted nothing to do with Michael’s family; you didn’t even want him to have anything to do with them, and while the latter didn’t change, here you are, in Birdy’s home, and you don’t even mind. You could laugh at yourself for pretending you’re so innocent when your own life, in all honesty, is a shit show as well–a shit show you have been trying to hide from even yourself, but a shit show nonetheless.

Knowing the truth about Michael is a lot to process, but your own past hasn’t been kind to you either, and while the thought of being connected to the mob now is unsettling, knowing you have someone like Michael by your side gives you a sense of safety because you know he’s the only one who could stand his ground against the man you’re so afraid of. Maybe he’s not even that strong, but he did a number on you, and you carry these memories with you every living second of your life. To you, your father is the most evil man out there, even though you’re sure Michael’s life is soon going to prove to you that there are more men like him and that this won’t be so easy to find evidence your father caused a car accident that killed your sister, and then gaining custody over your teenage sister. Michael is struggling with getting custody of his own daughter, and neither of you knows yet where that case is going, so telling yourself that after last night, all is sorted, is once again just you trying to hide in a pretentious bubble. But it’s better than falling apart, right?

You stand in the middle of Birdy’s living room a little lost, but she is quick to tell you to take a seat at the dining table.

And that’s when her maternal instincts come out to play, momentarily making you forget the conversation you had with her this morning, her endless questions, and how alarmed Michael was when you told him. You just focus on the feeling of being taken care of without having to ask, something you never experienced from either of your parents or anyone else before.

Birdy has a talent for making everyone feel welcome, it seems. She likes taking care of people. You wonder if she was the one who took Michael under her wing when he was a child because he has told you many times he understands the kind of childhood you had, so he must have suffered. But he and Birdy seem close from what he told you, his weariness simply comes from a place of love for you and because he knows what his family is capable of, even though he is the closest to the woman who just invited you over for an impromptu dinner.

“You look starvin’, dear,” Birdy says. She walks into the kitchen. “And thirsty. Have you been workin’ all day?”

You nod, stifling a yawn. “It’s been a long day,” you say.

“Did ya have time to eat?”

“I had a sandwich.”

“Just a sandwich?”

“Yeah.”

She looks at you almost condescendingly and shakes her head. “I can’t have that. You shouldn’t starve because of a job,” she says. “Good for ya that I cook when I’m stressed. Put some food into Michael’s fridge too. I can offer you–“ she opens the fridge, “Lasagna, and if you want somethin’ nice without meat, I made pasta with some lemon sauce. Oh, and vegetables. I fried ‘em. I don’t know how you English people eat yer food. What I do know is that I don’t have any fish and chips. Sorry ta disappoint, dear.”

“That’s…” You look at her a little flabbergasted. “That’s a lot of food,” you say. “I’m a vegetarian, but I don’t wanna be a bother. You don’t have to share your food with me. You probably cooked for your family, and I can’t take something that’s not meant for me. And my dietary preferences should not be of your concern.”

“But you are family,” she tells you as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Or at least to Michael you are, and I respect that. So I want ya t’ take my food. I made too much anyway. I also have chocolate cake, and I’ve learned that it works wonders on overworked lass like you.”

You bite your lip nervously, looking up to meet her gaze. “Well, if it’s not too much work, I’d take the pasta,” you cave.

Birdy smiles. “With cheese?”

“Yes. If it’s alright.”

“It’s more than alright.”

You sit at the dining table as she serves you a generous portion of pasta with cheese, along with a steaming cup of coffee. The aroma of the food fills the air, making your stomach growl in anticipation. You take a grateful bite and savor the flavors. This is exactly what you needed.

You finish the plate fast, and Birdy offers you seconds. You accept. While you eat, she sits across from you. You don’t mind her watching you. You’re too hungry to care. And once you’re done, you dive into the chocolate cake.

“How was your day, dear?” she eventually asks. “What’s it like workin’ at the Butterfly Effect? Surely, it must be fast-paced.”

You quickly swallow and wipe your mouth. “Well, there are peak hours, but it’s worth it to put a smile on people’s faces,” you answer. “And the money’s not bad.”

She smiles at your answer. “That’s grand.” It’s almost as if she’s obsessed with feeding you as much as you can handle because the next thing you know, she serves you another piece of cake. “You know, I never expected Michael to work in a café, but then again, he is a very hands-on person,” she says. “But he’s also very smart. He showed that in school. Shy and quiet but can fight back when enraged. I guess that comes with bein’ a Kinsella,” she says. “His father isn’t a good man. His mother wasn’t present. I was there for him and Jimmy. They’re my boys.”

She’s chatty, you note, but you can’t tell how genuine it is under that facade she carries. You’re sure it has to be a facade; someone like her wouldn’t walk around like an open book. From what Michael told you, you have already figured that she has layers, and while they may not be evil, she’s still a Kinsella, and that makes her unpredictable like the rest of Michael’s family.

“Yeah,” you murmur in response, “I get that.”

“How about your family?” Birdy asks then.

Oh no.

You lower your fork, the piece of cake only half-eaten. She wants to know who you are, and you have no idea if any of what you say will end up in the ears of the rest of the family. She’s digging and digging and it won’t stop.

“Ya came here all the way from London. Must be hard on them,” she says. “Especially for a mother. It’s never easy for them to just let go.”

You swallow thickly, not meeting her eyes. How does she know that you’re from London, specifically? Your heart starts to race with the impending revelation. You can feel the sweat forming on your forehead.

“Then again, you are an adult. A bit younger than Mikey, I imagine, but that doesn’t really matter, does it? And you wanna help him get Anna back? This is where she belongs, y’know. With us. She’s a Kinsella, always has been, and we are her family. That bein’ said, you have a lot of fire in ya, it seems. Under that sweet interior, there’s somethin’ more, and I think tha’s what Michael saw in ya when you first met. It drew him in. He has a distinctive type.”

You try to speak, but the words come out, but she doesn’t seem to care. She just keeps going and you feel like the world is crumbling around you.

“But why did ya really come here?” Birdy asks, her eyes narrowing slightly. “What is your deal? There is not much online on ya, but yer sister…I get it now why you understand loss so well; it’s never easy to lose a child. It’s an unimaginable pain. She was your sister.”

The chocolate cake churns in your stomach. You must be as pale as the color of her walls by now, but she speaks so nonchalantly, it doesn’t even sound like she’s taking apart your life even though she is, and that’s what makes her dangerous.

“I’ve also read tha you have another sister at home. She must be a teenager now. Nothin’ on her current age, but I calculated.”

You open your mouth, but no words or sounds would come out.

“There was an investigation, I read, and your name was mentioned countless times, but you’re an enigma,” she says, and that’s where her voice drops a little and the look in her brown eyes switches from curiosity to something that reminds you of a venomous snake, and it terrifies you. “I can’t tell if yer a danger to this family or not, which bugs me,” she says. “I don’t know who you really are, and I don’t know if Michael does. If he does, I don’t know if he knows what he signed himself up for. I don’t know if ya know what you signed yerself up for. I need to keep this family safe and with you, nothing’s as it seems. So what is the deal with ya, dear? I just wanna talk.”

You feel your heart pounding in your chest. Birdy listed things she shouldn’t know, and there is a threat somewhere in there. It reminds you of the man that came into the café a few days ago, and your heart picks up the pace even more. There is too much blood in your veins; you start feeling lightheaded with no more air left in your lungs. Panic and fear grip you, and you realize that she has dug deeper into your background than you ever expected.

“I…” You push the unfinished plate of chocolate cake away from you, “I need to leave,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “This was a mistake.”

Birdy watches you, her words hanging in the air. You can see the realization dawn on her face that she has crossed a line. But it’s too late. The damage is done, and you can’t risk staying any longer.

You are fucked.

You quickly gather your things, your hands trembling, and make your way to the door. The atmosphere in the room has turned heavy with tension, and the trust you had started to develop with Birdy has been shattered.

“Wait,” she calls out after you, but you can’t stay.

When you open the door, you’re ready to storm out and run, hoping Michael is finally home. But when you look up, there is a man in front of you, and his face seems familiar. It takes you a minute to sort out, and he looks equally as shocked as you.

Now you definitely can’t breathe. A few seconds ago you drew a parallel between Birdy and the stranger in the café, the same man standing in front of you now with his gray hair and glasses.

You’re fucked.

If he was a Kinsella all along, you don’t want to know what he knows. You’re in danger. Your mind keeps screaming at you to run, to flee, and to seek refuge somewhere, but you’re paralyzed.

You stand frozen in the doorway, staring at the man who blocks your path. Fear pulses through your veins, and your mind races to process what his presence means for you.

Maybe you have to leave. Maybe you have to book a plane ticket and move back to London. Maybe you shouldn’t say a word and just go tonight. There are no hurdles in your way. You can drive yourself to the airport, or you’ll take a cab. If the Kinsellas know, you’re not sure how safe you are, if they’d accept you’re in danger and not the danger itself, or if they’ll keep hating you. You don’t understand, but you want to understand, which is something that suffocates and kills you inside. It feels as if the room is closing in around you.

Birdy, now standing behind you, reaches out a hand. “Frank,” she sounds almost warning

That was his name. You remember writing it on the paper cup and handing it to him, and then his subtle threat about taking care of yourself because you don’t know what could happen out there.

Her touch feels distant, drowned out by the rush of adrenaline in your ears.

“Wait, let me explain,” Birdy pleads with you.

You shake your head, unable to trust her or anyone at this moment. The realization hits you that you are trapped, caught in a spiderweb of secrets that threatens to consume you.

Without hesitation, you push past Frank and break into a run. Panic guides your footsteps as you head for Michael’s house across the street, your heart pounding in your chest and going faster and faster and faster until it almost jumps out of your chest entirely.

You push the handle down. Surprisingly, it’s unlocked. Just as you close the door behind you, you bump into a broad chest again. You’re convinced you’re stuck in a bad dream because everywhere you look, there is danger lurking behind a corner, and it either takes the face of your father or a threat that you don’t even know the name of. Frank could be the biggest threat of them all, but so could Birdy and the rest of the Kinsella family–at this point, you’re not sure what to believe anymore, and the threat feels more like a concoction of different things molded into one gigantic monster meant to haunt you for the rest of your life. You’re terrified.

Michael grabs your shoulders, steadying you. “Woah,” he says. “Easy there.” He chuckles, but his smile fades when he sees the panicked look on your face. “Hey, hey,” his hands move to your face, “What happened?”

You can barely catch your breath enough to talk. “I can’t…Birdy…I…”

“Take a deep breath,” he instructs. “What’s with Birdy?”

Michael touches your forehead, checking for a fever, but the cold sweat on your skin comes from fear.

“Talk to me, love,” his voice is a steady sound among the uncertainty, but it doesn’t stop your racing heartbeat. “What’s wrong?”

You try to take a deep breath to string together some words, not caring whether they make sense or not, and you can feel the tears starting to well up behind your eyes. “Birdy, she–she invited me for dinner a-and she asked me about my day, but then she kept asking questions and…she knows, Michael,” you say. “She knows. She researched me, but in a way I can’t even…she knows. Birdy knows.”

His jaw clenches. His brown eyes gaze deeply into yours, and he’s both shocked and worried at the same time.

“Breathe,” he tells you again because you continue to stumble over your own words. Then, he asks, “What exactly does she know?”

“Everything!” you cry out. “About Ellie, about Maya, and she knows I’m hiding something. I–I can’t breathe. Your family doesn’t like me. No one does. They–they think I’m the villain and what if–what if she tells them? What if she draws conclusions? What if she shares it with everyone, a-and what if they end up hurting Maya or–or my father finds out that I’m with you and in contact with her, and–what then, Michael?”

His grip on your shoulders tightens. “I need you to breathe.”

You try to calm your breathing so you won’t hyperventilate. Your thoughts are a mess, but his thumb stroking your cheek manages to keep you in the present enough to sort the mess in your head to form an answer. “There was this guy at the café a couple of days ago that seemed ominous, and then he threatened me,” you say. “He said that–that I can never know what could happen out there, so I had to be careful. I–I didn’t know that he…” You point toward the house on the opposite side of the street out of the kitchen window.

Michael’s grip tightens. There is not a chance in hell you could have deciphered that look on his face. “Who?” he asks. “Who threatened ya?”

“Frank,” you manage to choke out, your body shaking at the mere thought of the dots you connected and the possibility of what it could mean. Michael warned you, but you didn’t listen.

His frown deepens, and he even looks surprised for a moment. He’s quick on his feet, but even he needs a second to make sense of that simply because he didn’t expect it.

“He’s…there was this man when I stormed out of Birdy’s place a-and his name is Frank,” you explain. “I remember his face. It’s him. That’s the Frank who came to the café the other day, a-and now I think I need to book a plane ticket to London and far, far away from this place to take care of my family because this is entirely too much for me and I can’t–I can’t do this anymore. He threatened me and Birdy knows too much, and who knows what my father will do.”

If they were cruel enough, they could have signed your death sentence already.

You have seen a lot of looks on Michael’s face, a lot of different emotions, and a lot of different moods he’s been through, but the change that happens right before your eyes steals your breath away. You have never seen him so feral. There’s no word for the look in his eyes or the way his muscles tense up under his shirt, it just happens and it makes you shake in your boots because that look seems dangerous in itself.

“He did what?” Michael asks through gritted teeth.

“Threatened me,” you repeat quietly, finally being able to regulate your breathing. “At work,” you say. “In front of Sarah a-and everyone. But the way he looked at me…I should have known, but I pretended it was just another crazy guy. I’m so stupid. If Birdy knows, he probably knew then, too, and that’s why he threatened me.”

Now you’re drawing conclusions, but they make the most sense, and it feels like you’re on the right track, which makes the plane ticket sound so much more lucrative.

“The fuck–” Michael shakes his head, blinking as if that would help him make sense of everything. “Frank…he threatened ya? And Birdy?”

“I don’t know if Birdy threatened me, but–”

“No, that sounded pretty much like a threat to me. Fuck!” He lets go of your shoulders, running a hand through his hair. “Frank. That fuckin’–No.”

You snap out of your haze when he suddenly pulls away from you entirely. Michael yanks the fridge in the kitchen forward, and you gasp at his immense strength.

Michael moves it forward. You can hear the faint sound of duct tape ripping. And then you see it–he is holding a gun in his hand.

“Why the fuck do you have a gun behind your fridge?” you say, your voice high-pitched and alert.

“Days like today,” he grumbles. “Stay here. I’ll handle it.”

You know exactly what he means by that, and you jump into action.

“Michael!” you call out for him, but he has already opened the door and is strutting toward Birdy’s house.

“No,” he snaps. “No one threatens ya and the safety of a child that has no one but you to fall back on, and then gets away with it!”

You follow him, trying to keep up, but he is fast when he’s determined. The gun is steady in his hand as his arms hang on either side, but his finger is already on the trigger.

“Michael, stop!” you plead. He ignores you. “Please!”

Why everyone keeps their doors open, you don’t understand. Michael easily bursts into the house and heads for the living room. You were wrong about Jamie’s death being the moment shit hits the fan. This is it. Michael’s rage is the last nail in the coffin, and you’re shocked. Birdy is, too, and Frank can also be added to that list. That look in his eyes…you’re weirdly even more attracted to Michael now, and he’s carrying a loaded gun. But you’re also scared because does he really want to do what you think he’ll do? For you? You can’t believe it. It must be a cruel joke.

But it’s not.

Michael grabs Frank by the collar and pushes him into one of the armchairs. He can’t fight back. The gun presses just underneath his chin, ready to blow his skull like you always see in the movies.

You slap a hand in front of your mouth. Well, shit.

“Michael!” Birdy calls out in shock. She takes a calculated step back the same way you do, and her eyes are wide, but she has seen this many more times than you have.

Seeing the man you love holding a gun so confidently sends a chill down your spine, and it’s not an entirely comfortable one, while also being in awe of him at the same time because he is doing this for you and Frank deserves it.

“Jesus!” Frank cries out when his backside meets the soft cushions in a rather harsh way. “What the fuck–” The cold metal of the gun seems to freeze him in place. Panic flashes across his eyes, and you start thinking he might not be in this position as often as you thought.

“You think you’re so smart, huh?” Michael spits, and he digs the gun deeper into Frank’s chin, tilting his head slightly back and forcing him to look into his feral eyes. “That you know exactly what the right thing is for this family and no one else matters but yer fuckin’ money? Is tha what ya fuckin’ think, Frank?”

Frank quivers, his arms now raised, palms facing forward. “Wha has gotten into ya, Michael?” he asks. “Put the fuckin’ gun down, Jesus Christ!”

Michael shakes his head. “You threatened her,” his breath fans hotly against his face, “and ya think I’d let you get away with it? That I wouldn’t find out?”

“Mikey,” Birdy begs behind him. “Put the gun down. Yer not helpin’ anyone with this. He’s family.”

“I don’t give a fuck about family right now! And I’m not done with ya either, Birdy,” says Michael. “But Frank,” he adds more pressure to the gun, “you crossed a big fuckin’ line this time!”

“She was distractin’ ya,” Frank retorts, finding his voice again. “Keepin’ you from doin’ what you should be doing instead of applying fer a job at a fuckin’ café. I threatened her ‘cause this family is no place for someone like her, and you need ta realize that, Michael. You don’t wanna lose another wife, do ya?”

You’re not his wife, but his words cut deep nonetheless. You don’t want to imagine what Michael is feeling right now.

“She has secrets and I’m sniffin’ them out so you can see who she really is.”

Michael's ferocity shocks you to the core, but Frank’s words are even worse, and perhaps he deserves that gun to his neck after all.

“You think we don’t talk, hm?” Michael challenges. “I know who she is. You had no right to do that. You threatened her, you freaked her out and you hurt her. I should put a bullet in yer fuckin’ head for that!” The gun moves to his temple. “For thinkin’ this will change my mind. For expectin’ me to prioritize this life and not my daughter or the woman I love,” he says. “For puttin’ yourself first over and over again as if nothin’ else matters but you. You get tha?”

“Michael, maybe we should–“ Birdy tries again, but fails.

“What did you do?” he cuts her off by asking Frank, “What the fuck are you planning? ‘Cause I know ya and you’d never threaten someone without havin’ a fucked up plan to back ya up.”

Frank’s eyes switch from the gun and Michael’s face to yours. “Her sister,” he states almost too calmly for your liking. “I put some men on her, to watch her, take some pictures and send them t’ her. Not to hurt her, but to scare her ‘cause she’s her weak spot. I needed ta get her out. Ya know how serious things are with Eamon right now, especially after what happened to Jamie last night, and you still think someone like her is safe with us? Tha Eamon is not gonna use her against you?” His eyes twinkle. “Grow up, Michael!” Some of his spit hits Michael’s face, and all traces of the calm man he pretends to be fade into oblivion.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare!” Michael says.

At the mention of Maya though, your blood runs cold. “What?” you whisper into the heated tension, and much to your surprise, you’re being heard.

“Threaten the little sister, the big one will come runnin’,” Frank says. “It’s that simple. You may not understand it ‘cause you don’t know what we’re dealin’ with, but the future of this family and whether or not we’ll be forever controlled by a man even worse than us hangs in the balance, and you could seriously mess with tha.”

His explanation doesn’t even make sense to you. Even if they were at war with a rival gang, it still doesn’t excuse him using your little sister to scare you away, someone who would never have gotten involved in any of their business in the first place. You love Michael, but you would never voluntarily mess with anything his family is doing, and whoever the man is Frank mentioned, you have someone else probably just as bad you need to get rid of, and that requires most of your attention. But by doing what he did, he might have just blurred your lives instead of separating you completely, and that means chaos.

You let out a shaky breath. “No, this can’t be–tell me you’re lying,” you say. “You didn’t…you can’t. She’s not supposed to be easy to find. She’s not supposed to be followed in that godforsaken home.”

He seemingly has no idea what he has done with this, and that shows how quickly people are to judge without knowing the full story.

In one swift motion, Michael hits Frank over the head with his gun, causing the skin above his eyebrows to split. He cries out in pain. “I did!” he confesses.

Michael repeats his action, this time not to get him to answer but simply because all of his fuses have been blown by now, and you can’t even excuse Frank’s behavior. You wanted to try giving him the benefit of the doubt because you are not a cruel person, but he proved himself to be even crueler, and he deserves whatever is coming for him.

“I don’t even know you!” you clap back. “How could you do this to someone you don’t know, who has never done anything to you?” Your voice cracks. “Just because Michael met me when he was at his lowest and you didn’t like he was trying to make a life for himself outside of this family?”

“I told you–” he tries, but you cut him off.

“I don’t care how hard you try to explain yourself, no excuse in this world could fucking excuse what you did!”

“You don’t belong here,” he says.

“The fuck does that have to do with my sister? She’s just a child! Take it out on me, but not on her. Fuck you!”

Michael’s grip tightens around the gun, his knuckles turning white as he struggles to contain his own fury. His voice cuts through the tension-filled atmosphere. “You sick fuck,” he seethes. “You really used her sister as leverage? You endangered an innocent child! Is that who you are now? Is this what we do?”

Birdy steps forward. “Maybe we should just talk about this properly,” she says, but you can tell there is anger deep down that she is trying to mask, and it seems to be just as strong as Michael’s. You’re in a room full of high tempers, and it’s intimidating.

Frank winces when the barrel of the gun digs into the fresh wound, blood trickling down his forehead. “I had to make her see…to make her realize she doesn't belong here. She’s a weakness, a vulnerability,” he says. “And it’d be easier if ya just fucked her and got it over with. Can’t have her if she’s not ready to be involved, and involving her would be a big mistake in our current situation. Ya can’t win in this situation, Michael. You can’t be a Kinsella and have her.”

“I’d rather fuckin’ die than not have her!” Michael’s voice echoes off the high walls. “And I’d rather never see any of ya again if it means I get to be with someone who actually sees me for who I am. You know,” he says, “to think I even considered for a moment to come back once I have everythin’ settled with my daughter, and she would have supported me…”

He’s right. No matter how badly you want to deny it, you would have supported him because you want him to do whatever he sees best. And family is clearly important to him, but, as you realize now, so are you. You are his family. Anna is his family. And that’s all you’re really sure about.

“If this were Anna,” you whisper, “would you have her followed too? Or does it just apply to innocent teenagers you don’t know?”

“This is different,” Frank is quick to defend himself.

“Anna’s a child too, just like my sister. Would you have done the same to her?”

“She’s a Kinsella!”

“Fuck you and your stupid family name, using it as if it means anything to me. Fuck you, Frank! I mean it.”

Tears well up in your eyes as the realization of the danger Maya has been subjected to settles deep within your soul. The urge to protect her, to shield her from the darkness that has infiltrated your life, swells within you like an unstoppable force.

You take a step closer to Frank. “She’s just a child. How could you possibly think that using her against me just to get me away from Michael would be the right thing to do?”

He’s sick in the head, you’re sure of that.

“You don’t understand,” Frank says. “Yer too young, too naive, and too innocent t’ grasp any of this, lass.”

“You have no idea what you did,” you whisper. “My age or supposed innocence has nothing to do with it. And who I fuck is none of your business either. My point here is that you endangered an innocent child, and you’re doing so as we speak.” Your teeth are bared and a certain rage bubbles up inside of you that you never thought possible. It’s an overwhelming feeling that eats you alive and shoots fire straight through your veins, into your heart.

Frank opens his mouth again, “I–”

“You said you weren’t planning on hurting her, but you’re not the only sick man out there,” you say.

Birdy cuts in to ask, “What do you mean, dear?” Her eyebrows are slightly furrowed, but you won’t let the worry in her eyes fool you, not again.

You trust her about as far as you can throw her.

“My father is an abusive asshole that almost made me lose an eye because he threw a glass at me,” it’s still foreign to say it out loud, especially to them, but how else would they understand why you’re reacting the way you are? They need to learn that nothing is ever as it seems. You’re an enigma to others, that much is true, and you’re hard to unravel or even read, but what Frank did is wrong on so many levels, and so much worse now that you think of all the consequences it could carry.

“My father…” You swallow thickly, your fists balled at your side. “My father is the same man that locked me in my room for days when I got an F so I could study. The man that sometimes wouldn’t allow me to eat dinner. The man that killed my little sister when she was three, and I still don't know why because he would beat me senseless whenever I asked questions. He would beat me whenever I didn’t cook dinner or seemingly disobeyed him, even in my twenties, and he would push me down the stairs. And he told me he’d kill me if I ever got close to Maya again, so if he finds out that I’m connected to you in any way–” You break off to point your finger at him oh-so-slowly. “You’re responsible if he hurts my sister, and you’re responsible if I end up dead and unable to protect her.”

Michael presses the barrel of the gun deeper into the wound, making Frank howl in agony. “He’ll kill her,” he growls. “Is tha what you wanted? For her t’ die?”

“No!” Frank is quick to answer. “I just wanted to scare her. I don’t kill innocents, Michael. I’m not evil. I had ta take a calculated step and it seemed like the right thing t’do. I couldn’t have fuckin’ known tha her father is who she says he is! That’s not exactly something ya find out online.”

“Her and her sister could both die. Who knows what her father is capable of? If he finds out, she’s fucked, and it’s gonna be yer fault. If I lose her…” He bares his teeth. “Then it’s not just Eamon you have t’ fuckin’ worry about!”

“Michael, please,” he begs. “I’ll take the men off her sister. Hell, I’ll tell them to look after her or tell them to get rid of her bastard father, just–”

As much as you like the thought, death would be too kind. He needs to be put behind bars for all eternity, and you want to watch him suffer through it. You want the satisfaction of winning for once in your life. And you don’t want help from Frank, specifically. Michael offered the same thing to you. From him, you’ll take it.

You’re not afraid to die, but you’re afraid of Maya losing more of her childhood and you’re afraid of loss. You can't go through that again.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” Michael sneers.

“I’ll take it back, I’ll tell ‘em to stop. I promise,” Frank continues begging like a pathetic child. Maybe now he knows what it feels like to be helpless.

Michael’s finger itches to pull the trigger. “Your word means shit t’me right now!”

You take another step forward. You know this is wrong on so many levels. Part of you wants him to do it, and he would, but you know the guilt would eat him alive. “Michael,” you interject. “We can’t allow ourselves to stoop to his level. He’s not worth it. He’s worth nothing. Believe me, I want nothing more than to see you hurt him more than you already did,” you say, “but you shouldn’t.”

You said so pathetic now too, but you feel like it’s the right thing to do.

Michael only sneers again. “He hurt ya,” he says. “He deserves to pay for what he did. If I lose you–”

“You won’t lose me,” you’re quick to answer.

He shakes his head. The thought is eating him alive. “I can’t lose you or Anna, and I don’t want Maya to get hurt. I don’t know her, but I know what it feels like to have a child, and she’s like one to ya. Frank–” He turns back to him. “How sick do ya have to be? What is wrong with you? That’s not how I know you,” he says, and he sounds almost…sad. “Ya’ve never been so cruel before, and you’ve done a lot of questionable things. It’s like I never fuckin’ knew ya.” The disappointment is clear and even Birdy lowers her head in shame.

You frown. Something more is brewing and you’re terrified of the truth.

“Michael, dear,” Birdy says, “Maybe if we let him explain–”

“There is nothin’ to explain. Just answer me this: Did you know?”

She stays quiet.

“Fuck!” Michael’s finger ghosts dangerously close to the trigger.

Frank swallows. “If ya kill me now, there’s no one that can tell the men I told to follow her sister to step back,” he argues.

“Oh my God,” you breathe. “You’d only do it to save yourself, wouldn’t you?”

He doesn’t meet your eyes, and you have your answer.

“You’re sick,” you tell him the same thing Michael did.

He’s evil in your eyes. Perhaps it would be a good idea to end this here for now because you can’t be part of a family that does things to hurt someone just because one of the members stepped out of line. Michael had every right to put himself and Anna first. He wasn’t going to leave the family, only the business so his life could calm down and a court would take him seriously.

Why Frank did what he did, you don’t even want to know in full. Your sister is the only thing on your mind. The anger in your veins boils burning hot, and you stop telling Michael to step back. Frank brought this upon himself.

Your eyes fall on Birdy. She looks deadly pale. “Did you know?” you ask her.

Her eyes meet yours. “Why do you think I asked ya all these questions, dear?” she says, her voice quiet and bordering on a whisper.

Your mouth opens, but you’re mute.

“It wasn’t to sniff ya out,” she says. “It was to get to know ya so I could find a way t’get Frank to back off. I know him better than anyone else and sometimes he needs a swift kiss in the arse ta stop whatever he’s doin’. But he’s not evil.”

“Oh, my–But you knew,” you whisper. “And you didn’t think about doing anything about it earlier? What kind of person does that? ‘But he’s not evil’ my ass! You can’t excuse that. I thought you were kinder than this, Birdy. I…I started trusting you. You took care of me. So it was all just an act?”

It breaks her heart to see you like this, and even more to see that she hurt you so deeply. But she’s not the first maternal figure that disappointed you. You just needed a mother, and she cared like one.

“He’s still my brother,” she says softly. “I didn’t think he’d go to such lengths. And I didn’t know that your father hurt you. Jesus–” She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. No child should ever have ta live with bein’ abused by their own parents, and neither did you. I’m sure if Frank knew, he wouldn’t have done it. Right, Frank?”

Frank nods as much as he can with the gun still pointed at his head. “If there’s one thing I hate it’s fathers who hurt their own children,” he says. “I have a son. He almost died last night, I–”

“Oh, fuck off!” you snap. It’s a pathetic attempt at redeeming himself, and you won’t let him fool you. You sneer. “No matter how many times you say it, sorry doesn’t save my sister.”

Michael’s rage burns hot, fueling his anger and pushing him to the edge. His eyes bore into Frank. The weight of the gun in his hand feels heavy, and every instinct urges him to unleash his anger upon the man who has endangered you and an innocent child that is already suffering at the hands of another man with his controlling nature.

His voice cuts through the air. “You vile piece of shit,” Michael growls, his words dripping with venom. He looks at you, uttering your name. “You think I won’t protect her, that I won’t unleash hell on anyone who dares to touch her? Her sister is a child. She’s in a completely different country and you decide to fuckin’ mess with both of them? Do you even think before ya act?”

Frank leans back a little and the gun moves from his temple to the middle of his skull.

“Do you think it’s that easy to google her and draw conclusions?” Michael says. “That’s fuckin’ prejudice and you know it! I won’t stand for ya hurtin’ the woman I love and tryin’ to take her away from me. Especially not like this. There is nothin’ between ya and my fuckin’ gun right now.”

He knows you wouldn’t hold him back. You can’t.

Frank flinches. Blood streams down his forehead, mixing with the sweat of his fear. He stammers, attempting to find words to defend himself, but Michael’s rage consumes any space for explanation.

“You’re not sorry. You’re sorry you got caught, sorry yer sick plan backfired. Well, I promise ya this, Frank; you will regret ever laying a finger on her. I don’t know wha you thought would happen, but it would never break us apart.”

“But it would get her to a different country,” Frank spits back.

The gun once again collides with his head. From the look in his eyes, he’s getting dizzy, but Michael doesn’t care. His grip tightens on the gun. The desire for vengeance battles with the need to protect, and it’s a war within him that threatens to explode.

“You tell me and Jimmy that doin’ something against the man that’s responsible for killin’ Jamie–”

Your head snaps toward him, your eyes widening a little. What happened while you were at work? Suddenly this isn’t just about you and Maya anymore, this is about his son and the man that killed him.

Michael told you he doesn’t know what he would do, but it seems like Jimmy had an idea and Michael followed along, and Frank disputed it, and from the looks of it, Birdy was also there and now you’re confused, and angry, and don’t know what to do or say.

“You took money from Eamon so we wouldn’t do anythin’ that might endanger whatever dynamic we have now,” Michael says. “Jamie died and you thought money could make up for it. Money doesn’t fix everythin’. I may not be hungry for revenge, but now you’ve hurt her–” he nods toward you, “And I won’t fuckin’ let ya destroy her life. She’s been through enough. I don’t know what’s wrong with ya tha you thought this would be a good idea, but you fucked up.”

Frank’s arrogance and twisted logic crumble under Michael’s wrath, leaving him vulnerable and exposed.

“You know exactly why I did wha I did,” he says. “Don’t act like ya don’t understand what’s at stake here.”

“That gives you no right to involve someone I love and threaten her!”

“You wouldn’t listen!”

“Yer an asshole,” Michael growls. “See this?” He tips the gun a little. “I should use it to blow yer brains out. God knows I wanna.”

Just as it seems that Michael’s rage might consume him entirely, the sound of footsteps and voices approaching from the hallway shatters the tense atmosphere. And then, Jimmy and Amanda burst into the room.

“What the fuck is goin’ on here?” Jimmy’s voice booms, his eyes widening as he takes in the scene before him.

Amanda gasps. “Michael!” she exclaims. “What the fuck are you–put the gun down!”

“No,” Michael retorts.

“What the–” Jimmy turns to Birdy, and that’s when he sees you. “What is he–what is he doing? And what is she doin’ here?”

“I have a name, you know,” you shoot back.

“Can ya tell me why Michael’s holding a gun to Frank’s head?” he challenges you.

You bite your lip. You can, but you won’t.

Michael cuts in, “Tell ‘em, Frank,” he demands. “Tell ‘em what you did.”

Frank trembles, collecting his words. The wounds on his head are still bleeding, staining the armchair. “I found out who she is,” he says. “And then I put some men on her sister ta make her see that she doesn’t belong here. I threatened her, but I never said I’d hurt her.” The last part of his sentence is directed at Michael who only scoffs in response.

Jimmy’s eyes flick between you and Frank, processing the words. Amanda is eerily quiet. Her eyes remind you of a snake’s venom when she looks at you. There is no pity or remorse, only emptiness. You can’t even tell if there is grief.

“What the fuck, Frank?” Jimmy says eventually, sounding exasperated. “What were you thinkin’?”

“He wasn’t,” Michael cuts in.

His brother waves him off. “I don’t like the thought of Michael not helpin’ us, believe me. And I don’t like that he’s prioritizing everythin’ else over his own family, especially after…after wha happened to Jamie. But threatening his girlfriend? What the fuck is wrong with ya? He was happy.”

Frank rolls his eyes as if that would help him get out of this.

When Jimmy opens his mouth again, his words break the unknown. “Is that why ya came over the other day?” he asks. “With the file and–and the ominous speech about how ya thought it would be just a fling between ‘em and you would’ve accepted that, but now that Michael’s attached, you have t’do somethin’ about it? Is that why you asked for my help?”

Michael’s head snaps around, and he’s suddenly standing completely straight. “What?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Jimmy says. “Frank came t’ me the other day, bein’ all mysterious about her–” he points to you, “And he asked for my help to get her out of the way, but I didn’t know what he was planning.”

Michael turns back to Frank. “My own brother, seriously?” he says. “You have no shame, do ya?”

Frank’s eyes are focused on Amanda though, and you get a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach that Jimmy just opened Pandora’s box.

“Why don’t you ask your sister-in-law?” Frank’s voice cuts the tension with a knife, yet adds to it.

You’re not stupid. One look at Amanda is enough to tell you all you need to know. “Oh my God,” you whisper.

“Amanda?” Michael questions. “What is he talkin’ about?”

Jimmy joins in, “That’s what I’d like ta know, too.”

Amanda’s gaze remains fixed on Frank, her expression hardened and unreadable. The silence stretches between them, heavy with tension.

Finally, she takes a step forward. “It’s true,” she admits. “Frank approached me, and I made a choice.”

Michael’s face contorts. “You helped him?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

Amanda’s shoulders sag, the weight of her actions pressing upon her. “I was tryin’ to protect you, Michael. I thought if we could remove the obstacle–if we could make her leave, everythin’ would go back to how it was before.”

“You couldn’t even grant me this one thing? You couldn’t even grant me a sliver of happiness and–and hope? You were willin’ to destroy it? For what?”

“Family,” she states. “She doesn’t belong here. She doesn’t understand what she’s gotten herself into. It’s only gonna cause trouble if we have ta protect a civilian. We’re in a fickle–”

Michael pulls away from Frank entirely, turning around and approaching Amanda instead. He’s holding the gun at his side, but it’s still out, and she takes a step back.

“You don’t get to decide what’s best for me,” Michael bellows. “Yer not in charge of me or this family.”

“Frank is–”

“He doesn’t know shit, Amanda! And I thought you knew better than to try and ruin an innocent woman’s life. What the fuck is wrong with ya?”

She looks at Jimmy for support, but he looks absolutely bewildered. He shakes his head in disbelief. “Is it true?” he asks.

“I was just tryin’ to fix things,” she defends herself, but now even her husband isn’t having it anymore.

“What the fuck?” He glares at her. “What, were ya jealous that Michael found someone new?”

Oh. You press a hand in front of your mouth. He knows. Michael told you that he believes Jimmy knows, but this just proves that he is well aware of the affair between them, and probably that Jamie wasn’t even his son, but he raised him, so he was his.

“What? Of course not!” Amanda snaps. “Why would I feel threatened by her?”

“Excuse me?” you blurt out.

“You’re messing up everything,” she says to you, and her eyes speak volumes.

You don’t flinch. “And you don’t know what you did,” you retort.

“I was just–”

“My father is an abuser and he told me if I ever come close to my sister again, he’ll kill me.” It’s the same thing you told Frank. “And by threatening her and trying to get me to run to her rescue, you not only endanger her but you put a fucking target on my back. I came here to start new–” Your throat swells up with tears. “I didn’t do anything to prompt this. I wasn’t threatening this family or your business. I have nothing to do with it. I just want Michael.”

And with Amanda, that seems to be precisely the problem. Can you even compete with her? Your shoulders slag and you suddenly feel so small.

Michael takes a step closer to Amanda. “You thought you were protecting me?” he asks. “By betraying my trust and attempting to manipulate the situation? That’s not protection, Amanda. That’s tearin’ us apart.”

“C’mon, Michael, you can’t possibly think it’s a good idea to have her here,” she says.

Before he can answer or lift his gun again, the water in your glass bubbles over. “I chose to stay,” you tell her. “Because I love him. Something you lot seem to really fucking suck at. I know what I’m getting myself into. I don’t care. But you don’t know what my father is capable of. You just dug two graves, but I’d be damned if I let my sister get hurt because of you. She’s a child.”

“She’s sixteen,” Amanda retorts. “Not a child.”

You know this will cut deep, but you see red. Attacking you is one thing, but dragging Maya into it is where you draw the line. So you say, “How old was Jamie?” And you see the color fade from her skin.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” her voice drops an octave.

“You’re a mother,” you say, “and yet you were willing to do all this just because I’m an obstacle, as you’ve so kindly phrased it? How does any of that make sense?”

“Yeah, well, you’re not a mother. You could never understand.”

Your eyes widen. You thought she would at least understand that part, but apparently, she’s colder than you thought. It hurts to hear it because it’s true, but why should you cave? She’s right but she’s also wrong, and she has no right to claim things like that as if she knows you. You used to be a people pleaser, but maybe it’s time for you to step up and burn bridges now.

“I raised my sister,” your words are like venom from your tongue, ready to poison her. “Both of them,” you say. “And then one got killed at three years old by my own father. I may not be their biological mother, but I raised and protected them. I took the hits while they only suffered from his control, but at least they were the favorites. So don’t tell me I’m not a mother. I know I’m not, but I’m allowed to feel like I am.”

Her bottom lip quivers, and you know she’s pissed now because you won’t retreat to submission like you planned. “What? You expect an apology? ‘Cause if so, yer not gettin’ one. I’m a real mother,” she tells you, “and I do whatever it takes to protect my family. If your father is so dangerous, you should have thought twice before fuckin’ a Kinsella.”

You hate violence. You disagree with throwing punches and hurting others, mostly because you know what it does to someone from experience. You don’t know what got into you, but the way she phrased and said the last sentence of her little speech flicked a switch inside of you. Your fist collides with her nose before you can even realize what’s happening.

Gasps fill the room. Amanda holds her nose as she cries out, and you realize that punching someone is very bad for your knuckles.

Michael stands there, completely stunned, and even Jimmy takes a moment before rushing to Amanda’s aid.

There are a lot of things he would have expected from you, but landing a punch like that was not on his list. He’s not mad or concerned for Amanda’s well-being, not at all, he only stares at you with wide eyes of shock, and he’s more impressed than anything else.

“Jesus Christ!” Jimmy finally exclaims. “What the fuck is wrong with ya?!” He also shoots Michael a glare as if your actions are somehow his responsibility, but you are your own woman and he knows that very damn well.

Birdy also snaps out of her guilty haze and rushes to stand between you and Amanda, functioning as a human shield. “That’s enough!” she calls out. She sounds assertive, and Michael and Jimmy instantly stop moving.

You clutch your fist; it really hurts, and you’re sure you sprained your wrist, but the relief that spreads through you manages to calm your racing heartbeat. You shouldn’t feel proud, but you are.

“Have ya lost yer minds?” Birdy asks into the room. Everyone looks away. “Frank, what ya did is unacceptable and Michael has every right to be angry because this woman right here makes him happy. He’s in love. It’s his choice whether or not he’ll help ya, but you know that if we really need him, he’ll always be there. He’s just one call away, always. Hell, did ya see him and Jimmy earlier? Michael’s family, he just wants Anna back and he wants to be better, and that’s his right. We all lost somethin’ when Jamie died, but that is no excuse to start threatenin’ each other,” she says.

“And you can’t pull an innocent woman into this mess and think it’s alright. Especially you, Amanda–” she looks at her with purely disappointed eyes, “I thought ya knew better than to judge. Now you and Frank put her at risk, dragged her sister into this and God knows what her bastard father is capable of. But we can’t keep hurtin’ each other. It’s not gonna fix this. Michael,” she glares at him, “Put the gun down and look at yer girlfriend’s wrist. It’s startin’ to swell. Frank, grab your stuff and leave before I do somethin’ I’ll regret. And Amanda? Take Jimmy and piss off! We’ll talk about this later. Like adults.”

Silence settles into the room. Your breathing becomes labored, your chest rising and falling, but there is not enough oxygen to go around. Your hand goes numb. You can barely feel your heart or your limbs. The world turns into a blur. The walls cave in and you’re trapped. You need to get out.

Michael reaches out to touch your arm, but his touch burns. You take a step back. “I can’t…” Your brain registers the danger, and with a quiet apology, you head straight for the door.

Michael calls out to you. You can barely hear him over the cotton in your ears. “Wait!” he pleads, but you can’t bring yourself to stop.

Your car is still in Michael’s driveway. The keys are in your backpocket. Your coat is still at Birdy’s house, but you don’t care. You’re just going to pick up some of the belongings you left at Michael’s house the day before and then you’re gone.

The moment you step outside, a rush of cool air fills your lungs. The world outside is a blur as you stumble forward, tears streaming down your face. The reality of the situation crashes over you. It’s as if the ground beneath your feet is shifting, and you struggle to find your footing.

Thoughts of Maya consume your mind. The events that have unfolded only solidify your decision to keep her safe from the dangers that surround you.

As you continue walking, the pain in your hand grows more pronounced. Guilt gnaws at your conscience. It’s a mix of regret, frustration, and a desperate need to defend yourself and those you love.

You storm into the house, finding your wallet on his kitchen table. You’re going to need your credit card to book a flight. You can’t think straight.

The door opens behind you, but you’re too busy checking your wallet for your credit card.

“Hey,” Michael says. “Stop. What are you doin’?”

“I need to leave,” you say. “You can find last-minute flights from Dublin to London online. I just need my credit card and then I need to pack and–and–”

He cuts you off. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“No, I am. Maya’s in danger. I need to get her out of there. He’s gonna find out anyway, and maybe–maybe I can protect her like this. She’s not safe. I’m not safe. Your family…it’s not safe.” You drop your wallet and everything you keep inside falls to the floor. “Fuck! Damn it!”

You get on your knees to collect your cards. Michael follows. He gently grasps your shoulder. “Hey, listen to me,” he says. “Listen! Runnin’ away won’t solve anything. You can’t fly to London and get yer sister out without endangering yourself. This is not the way. You need to plan this.”

“No, I have to–”

“You’re not thinkin’ straight. Hey!” He holds you tighter now. “Yer not goin’ anywhere. Not in this state. Not after everythin’ that happened. I won’t let ya get into that car, let alone by yourself. You’ll hurt yourself.”

“You can’t hold me here!” you shoot back. “Let me go, Michael.” You struggle against his grip again, but it’s futile. “Let me go!”

He shakes his head. “I understand you wanna protect her, I really do, but this won’t solve anything. Look at me!” He grabs your chin. “You can’t go alone. This is a stupid idea and you need to stop and think, love. Don’t do this.”

“Frank has men watching her. I can’t just stay here and do nothing!”

“He’s tellin’ them to back off,” he says. “You get that, right? They’re not coming for her anymore. We’ll put security on her or somethin’, but yer not goin’.”

“You don’t know that!” you cry out. “What if my father already found out? What if the damage is done? I have to at least check on her. I have to…I…” You forget how to breathe. “She’s my life and I won’t fuckin’ let you stop me!”

You break free for only a moment, but he drags you back down. The tears spill over and onto the canvas of your cheek.

“Shh,” Michael coos and pulls you into his arms, your wallet long forgotten.

You both sit on the floor together and he holds you as the sobs wreck your body. He tells you to breathe and you try, but you fail. You focus on his heartbeat and point out what you can see, hear, taste, and feel, but it takes an agonizing while before your body stops trembling and your lungs grasp the oxygen again.

Tears continue to stream down your face. “I can’t bear the thought of anything happening to her,” you choke out. “I can’t lose her too. Please, let me go.”

You’re so fragile in his arms. If he lets you go, he’s convinced you will fall apart like broken glass.

“No,” he says firmly. “I’m not lettin’ ya go. Not without me.”

“Please…”

He shakes his head, cradling your face in his hands. “We’re gonna calm down first. We’re gonna think. We’re gonna talk. You’re gonna text your sister and check if she’s okay, and if she is, we come up with a plan. And if you still want to leave then, I’ll buy myself a plane ticket and come with ya.”

You shudder. He wipes the tears on your cheeks with his thumbs. He’s too soft. “I don’t know what to do,” you whisper. “I don’t know who I can trust anymore. I’m scared.”

“Trust me,” he says.

You meet his eyes, your own softening when you see the look on his face. “I’ve never stopped,” you answer.

Michael smiles at you. “I know.” He wipes your tears. “So, trust me. Don’t leave. Let’s think.”

“I can’t think. It’s too much.”

He lowers his forehead to yours. It’s a silent gesture that still speaks volumes.

“Please don’t let me fall apart,” your voice is barely above a whisper. “It hurts too much.”

“Shh,” he coos, “you’re not alone. You never were.”

With him, at least, that is true.

You start feeling the pain in your hand again and you hiss when it accidentally brushes against his shirt.

He gently reaches out to take your hand, inspecting it. His brows furrow as he assesses the damage, his fingers tracing over the swollen knuckles and the redness that has begun to form.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I never wanted it to come to this.”

You sigh. “It’s not your fault,” you reply softly. “None of this is. I just… I couldn’t handle the way she talked about Maya. It was like a switch flipped inside me. I don’t usually hit people.”

He bites his cheek, but he can’t help but smile a little. “Not sayin’ she deserved it, but…”

“She deserved it?”

“Yeah,” he says. “And ya did look quite badass.”

He manages to put a smile on your face. “Thanks,” you say.

“In all seriousness, I understand how you feel. You were pushed to your limit. It’s okay. We all snap sometimes. But we need to take care of that hand.”

Michael rises from the floor and helps you up as well. Leading you to the nearby kitchen sink, he turns on the faucet and lets the cool water run over your injured hand. The sensation soothes the pain slightly as he delicately cleans the area.

“I think you sprained your wrist,” he murmurs. “I’ll bandage it and put some ice on it. You need rest. Other than tha, ya’ll be alright.”

You can only nod. He finishes cleaning your knuckles, retrieves a bandage from the first-aid kit he keeps next to the sink, and wraps your hand in it. You watch him. He moves elegantly, knowing exactly what to do. And when he grabs an ice pack for you and places it on your wrist, he kisses your forehead.

You wordlessly make your way upstairs where he helps you get changed into a comfortable set of clothing. You text Maya when you’re finally tucked into bed, and you stare at the phone screen for quite a while.

Michael watches you while he gets dressed, your fingers tapping your thigh anxiously.

“It’s late,” he reminds you, “she might just be asleep.”

“No, it’s not her bedtime yet,” you say.

It takes a while before the text finally comes in, but the tears form in your eyes again when you read her text.

‘I’m ok. Why?’

You let out a sigh of relief, wiping your cheeks in the process. You don’t tell her what happened or what’s going on so she won’t freak out and do something stupid, or your dad might find the message. You tell her you wanted to check in and that’s it. She seems a bit confused, but she accepts it. You wish her a good night, and she responds within seconds. At least you can rest a little easier knowing that right now, she’s okay. She’s not safe, but she’s okay, and you can rest and then think about it when your head is a little clearer. For now, though, the exhaustion drags you down.

Michael settles into bed next to you. “You wanna cuddle?” he asks. “Or do ya need some space?”

You give a faint smile. “Cuddles, please,” you say.

Michael wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer. You nestle your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

As you both lie in bed, his arms enveloping you, you feel a wave of exhaustion wash over you. You close your eyes. With each breath, you sink deeper into the comfort of his arms, your mind slowly quieting down. The rhythmic rise and fall of Michael’s chest lull you into a state of tranquility.

One of his hands is cradling your head while the other stays wrapped around your waist. His fingers start to stroke your temple, rubbing up and down until you’re completely relaxed.

“How’s that?” he asks.

You let out a contented sigh. “It’s perfect,” you murmur. “Thank you.”

In the warmth of his embrace, you can feel the tension in your body melting away. His gentle touch provides a comforting anchor amidst the storm. Your breathing steadies and a serene calm settles over your weary mind.

You don’t know how long you lie there, wrapped in each other’s arms, but the passage of time becomes inconsequential.

“I love you,” you whisper.

He presses a kiss on your forehead. “And I love you,” he says.

With a sense of serenity, you drift off to sleep, knowing that you’re safe in his arms.

Tagging: (let me know if you want to be tagged, too!) @bellaxgiornata @mattmurdocksscars @ms-murdockswift @your-not-invisible-to-me @shouldbestudying41 @glowstick-lesbian @acharliecoxedfan @roseallisonparker @norestfortheshelbywicked @1988-fiend @loveroftoomanyfandoms @mattkinsella @schneeflocky @harperdoodle @ravenclaw617 @lunaticgurly

#michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella x female reader #michael kinsella angst #michael kinsella #kin amc #reader insert #charlie cox #chaos theory

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philosopherking1887 · 2 years

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I keep having dreams about some kind of redo of my sister’s wedding 10 years ago, or about her and her husband renewing their vows or something, or getting remarried after breaking up. I now really do not like my sister’s husband, though at the time they got married I thought he was fine. Over the years it has become apparent to me and my parents that he is emotionally abusive: he’s always really critical of my sister and her family (he has complained about me to my parents and vice versa), usually for perfectly normal things that he thinks are impermissible because he has all these weird strict rules about things that he has somehow convinced my sister are correct and normal, and everyone else is wrong (we’re pretty sure this is because he has undiagnosed autism/Asperger’s, which -- to be clear -- I don’t think makes people bad or abusive, but can be expressed that way in relationships... look up Cassandra Syndrome, apparently it’s a thing). It is also, I have read, fairly common for men to become abusive and controlling after marriage when they seemed fine beforehand -- even if the relationship has lasted for years before marriage.

Anyway, I think my subconscious wants me to try to go back in time and stop them from getting married, or to have some kind of second chance to stop it. Last night I had a pretty dramatic version of this dream, and I think it’s because yesterday I was talking to a student about Nietzsche and ended up reading from a section that I quoted in my maid-of-honor toast at my sister’s wedding. (I didn’t start with the Nietzsche quote, though; I started with “Mawwage. Mawwage is what bwings us togevvah today.” It was a hit.) It was section 14 of The Gay Science, called “The things people call love.” I quoted the last paragraph, because it expresses something I think that’s important to have at the basis of a life partnership:

“Here and there on earth we may encounter a kind of continuation of love in which this possessive craving of two people for each other gives way to a new desire and lust for possession -- a shared higher thirst for an ideal above them. But who knows such love? Who has experienced it? Its right name is friendship.”

But in my dream version of the wedding do-over -- in which I was vaguely aware that they had gotten married before, and I had quoted a different Nietzsche section in my toast -- I had the idea to quote section 341 of The Gay Science, the one in which the idea of the Eternal Recurrence is introduced, to try to get my sister to run the thought experiment and see if this is something she really wants to do, and would want to do over and over eternally:

“The greatest weight.— What if, some day or night a demon were to steal after you into your loneliest loneliness and say to you: ‘This life as you now live it and have lived it, you will have to live once more and innumerable times more; and there will be nothing new in it, but every pain and every joy and every thought and sigh and everything unutterably small or great in your life will have to return to you, all in the same succession and sequence—even this spider and this moonlight between the trees, and even this moment and I myself. The eternal hourglass of existence is turned upside down again and again, and you with it, speck of dust!’

“Would you not throw yourself down and gnash your teeth and curse the demon who spoke thus? Or have you once experienced a tremendous moment when you would have answered him: ‘You are a god and never have I heard anything more divine.’ If this thought gained possession of you, it would change you as you are or perhaps crush you. The question in each and every thing, ‘Do you desire this once more and innumerable times more?’ would lie upon your actions as the greatest weight. Or how well disposed would you have to become to yourself and to life to crave nothing more fervently than this ultimate eternal confirmation and seal?”

Just wanted to get that out there because it’s unsettled me. Most of my dreams are pretty stupid, but that one was both unusually coherent and unusually heavy.

#personal #about me #family stuff #tw: emotional abuse #tw: relationship abuse

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casspurrjoybell-27 · 9 months

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Claimed by the Beast - Chapter 4a

*Warning Adult Content*

Phone Number - Part 1

- Knox -

Knox didn't get any sleep last night because Everett didn't get any sleep last night.

The boy tossed and turned until a few hours before sunrise.

At one point, he screamed himself awake because of a nightmare.

More are bound to follow, given what all he experienced in the past twenty-four hours.

Knox couldn't help but pity his temporary roommate, enough to buy Everett a new charger so he can finally use that damn phone of his.

"I don't care who you reach out to, just don't reveal your location."

Knox tosses the yellow Dollar Store bag at Everett after entering his bedroom.

"Has Josie stopped by? I ran into her while I was on my out and she told me she had something for you."

Everett nods from the bed, quick to unbox the phone charger.

"She delivered a few toiletries shortly after you left. My skin was desperate for some lotion and it felt great to brush the stank out of my mouth. I'll never take toothbrushes for granted again."

"Yeah, because your breath smelled like..."

"Fuck off, you big panda. I didn't ask for your snarky commentary."

Knox's head falls backward as he laughs.

He shouldn't find Everett to be this amusing but he does.

Too much, if he's being honest.

Perhaps the way Everett carries himself is to blame.

His looks make him appear sweet and innocent but when set off, his mouth runs exactly like a filthy sailor's.

He's cute but deadly.

The absolute worst kind to fall for.

"Was that supposed to hurt my feelings or something?"

Knox removes his beat-up leather jacket and kicks off his shoes before joining Everett on the bed, taking a seat at the foot of it.

"It doesn't, by the way. Pandas are one of the most beloved animals on the planet. Everyone is a fan of pandas."

"Yeah, well, I'm not everyone," Everett mutters.

"In fact, I think they're extremely overrated."

Knox laughs again.

"Fuckin' liar. You couldn't even look me in the eyes when you said that."

"Don't you have someplace else to be?" Everett replies sharply, meeting Knox's playful gaze.

"No," Knox says. "Getting under your skin is far more entertaining.

"God, you're so annoying."

Everett plugs the charger into the wall outlet beside the nightstand and hooks his phone up to it, struggling to keep from smiling.

"I prefer this version of you over the one who almost strangled me to death. Are you always this hot and cold with the people you kidnap?"

Knox purposefully avoids answering the question because his targets are usually dead by this point.

"Why panda?"

"Does it really matter?"

"Yes. I'm very curious to hear why you matched me to one of the most adorable animals in the..."

"Okay, enough." Everett rolls his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching and wanting badly to rise. "You're dressed in black and white, and you're about the size of a pregnant one..."

They both chuckle at that.

"It was honestly the first thing to pop into my head as I watched you get dressed this morning."

"I thought you were still asleep then."

"I'm pretty good at faking it when I want to."

Knox bit back the inappropriate comment he wanted to make and instead allowed a comfortable silence to settle between them.

He responded to a few texts while Everett checked in with his people.

Knox appreciated the lie Everett told his parents in claiming he had spent the night with a boyfriend.

If only Shaun were still alive, Everett definitely would've been with him.

The what-ifs leave Knox feeling unsettled, so he quickly brushes them off.

The life that Shaun lived would've eventually caught up with them both.

It was only a matter of time before Everett witnessed firsthand just how cruel life was for a biker.

Going forward, Knox secretly hopes the boy will think twice about dating men that are no good for him.

Not that he should fucking care.

"My friends knew about Shaun and I being together."

Everett frowns while looking at old texts sent from Shaun, most of them flirty one-liners.

"They've sent me a thousand questions asking if I knew more about what happened. I assume they watched the news from last night."

"What did you tell them?" Knox asks.

Everett sighs, shaking his head as he deletes his conversation with Shaun.

"I hate lying to them."

"I know it's hard, but it's for their own good."

Knox drags a hand through his hair and exhales a heavy breath.

Since when did he become so... nice?

"You seem like a decent kid, Everett. I'm sorry you got pulled into this mess..."

A loud knock at the door makes Everett jump from his spot on the bed, effectively ending the conversation.

Knox doesn't move an inch.

"Who the fuck is it?" Knox growls, his demeanor doing a complete 180.

"The owner of the house," Gavin replies. "Come out here for a minute. We need to talk about the kid."

Everett reaches for Knox without thinking twice, one hand gripping Knox's left arm with enough force to leave behind an imprint.

The boy's light brown eyes are glowing bright with fear and his bottom lip is back to trembling.

Knox instinctively leans in closer, almost as if he's no longer in control of his body.

"Please don't let him hurt me," Everett whispers with a panicked voice.

"I won't say a word to anybody about anything, I swear. You have to believe..."

"I do. I believe you, Everett. You're safe with me, alright? I've got you."

"You promise?"

" I promise."

Everett nods and drops his hand, allowing Knox to stand and crack open the door.

Gavin doesn't peer inside being nosy, merely laughs at how ridiculous his newly appointed Enforcer is acting.

Must be something in the water.

"What's up?" Knox asks.

"I'll tell you as soon as you get your ass out here," Gavin says. "Or would you prefer the kid hears everything?"

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somethingpoetichere · 3 years

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lovebug- caliban imagine

sup. fic inspired by my favorite song in THE world. not as soft mushy as it may sound I promise caliban is a nice lil sarcastic SHIT with a big ole crush. mild sabrina bashing but its funny in context and I think it’s the way family behaves. reader is a Spellman, not a witch but DOES know about the supernatural/is part of the supernatural world. here with my once in a blue moon post lol. feedback would be appreciated!

called her for the first time yesterday

finally found the missing part of me

felt so close but you were far away

left me without anything to say

Caliban was not an idiot- he knew not to underestimate the Spellman half-witch that had gone and declared herself queen of hell. So he’d taken the liberty of learning everything he could about her, noting her habits and schedule and the people she surrounded herself with.

And then he found you.

You weren’t a witch- at least, he hadn’t found your name in his diligent searching through the Book of the Beast- but you were something. That he was sure of. There was something slightly off about your presence, tinged a little glittery, though not altogether unpleasant.

No, not unpleasant at all, he mused as he watched you make your way towards your car. Tucked into a little yellow sundress, you stood out like a ray of sunshine in the wave of doom-and-gloom that hallmarked high school. The school bell rang out behind you, and Caliban felt his knees go disgustingly weak as you smiled brilliantly at Sabrina through the crowd.

It was a stupid, stupid decision that Caliban would never have made in the right state of mind, but he reasoned that pissing off Sabrina was validation enough to get your attention. He ducked into your path on purpose, taking advantage of your momentary distraction as he gently bumped into you. oops.

You collided with a solid wall, books tumbling out of your hands as strong arms reached out to steady you. You let out a surprised yelp at the collision, peeking up curiously as the wall you’d hit laughed.

Oh, well that was a sight for sore eyes.

The golden haired stranger holding you was, well, gorgeous. Bright blue eyes peered down at you as he grinned, and you felt the whole world shutter around you. You’d definitely been watching too many soap operas with your auntie, but goddamn it if you weren't positively putty.

“Hi there, stranger.” You giggled nervously, and Caliban suddenly remembered he’d had his arms around you for far too long to be acceptable. He reluctantly retreated, feeling something claw a little uncomfortably in his chest.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” He apologized, moving to pick up your books as you bent down to retrieve them. He ran a hand through his hair in barely concealed bashfulness, unsure of why he felt so... unsettled, all of a sudden.

“It’s alright, my head was in the clouds.” You waved off his apology, accepting the books he offered you with a grateful smile. “Are you new here? I don’t think we’ve met.”

“He’s new here!” Sabrina’s shrill voice interrupted, training her icy glare on Caliban, who fought back a smirk. “This is Caliban- he’s from... Australia! Yeah, down under!”

“Oh, I can show you around tomorrow! I know how scary it can be to be new here.” You patted his arm sympathetically, ignoring Sabrina’s stream of indignant protests. “I was with student council all day. If you’re a senior, we probably have most of the same classes.”

Caliban had shit to do. Caliban had trials to plan and souls to torture. But you were looking at him- all warmth and sunshine, and Sabrina’s look of pure horror only sweetened the deal.

“I’ll see you in class tomorrow then, sunshine.”

so worth it.

now i'm speechless, over the edge

i'm just breathless

i never thought that i'd catch this love bug again

hopeless, head over heels in the moment

i never thought that i'd get hit by this love bug again

Caliban didn't understand why the mortals all bemoaned high school as hell on earth. It certainly wasn't so bad once you got past the wave of body spray and the questionable cafeteria food. In fact, darting to class with a pretty girl beside him was pretty enjoyable, all things considered.

You’d spent the day introducing him to the other students, passing him silly notes in class, and had even tugged him from the lunch room to hang out with your friends in the library. He learned that you pretty much did it all- student council, cheerleader, top of your class- all while managing to somehow know the name of everyone you passed with a smile in the halls. You were silly and sweet— smart as all hell with a wit that certainly kept the clay prince on his toes.

and he was smitten.

The groan that escaped your painted lips was delightfully sinful as you slumped in the seat beside him in english class. “I hate Romeo and Juliet. How do two people fall in love in a few days anyhow? And Mrs. Willows always makes us reenact the scenes, and it’s so corny.” The blush that colored your cheeks as he looked at you in concern was something he did his best to commit to memory- cheesiness be damned, Caliban was enjoying himself far too much.

Caliban smirked, skimming through the booklet he’d been passed as the teacher droned. The prince of hell had a certain flare for the dramatics, and Sabrina’s glare burning into the back of his head only fueled his antics. He had one scene in mind, and it was the scene that was certain to kill four birds with one stone- totally make you fall in love with him, he would somehow manage to kiss you (that part was a work in progress), piss off Sabrina, and also- piss off Sabrina.

And kiss you. So maybe five parts. Damn it, Caliban was going to have to make a list.

“Partners?” He whispered softly, gently tugging at your hand as the teacher sat back down. Caliban’s eyes were alight with a tinge of mischief that you either failed to notice or were simply amused by- and your answering nod was more than a little bashful. “We can do my favorite scene.”

“If you say the first kiss scene, I’m punching the daylights out of you.” You warned, playfully nudging his knee with your own. “It will be unkind and I will not feel bad.”

“My lady wounds me.” He dramatically rested his hand above his heart. “And we absolutely have to do this scene-” He raised his hand to silence your half-hearted protests- “because Billy told the guys in calculus that he was specifically going to be pissed if we did this scene.”

Okay, so maybe he’d stretched the truth a little bit. But Caliban knew that the mention of your seedy ex-boyfriend (who you’d enlightened him about during lunch) would absolutely get you to agree to the scene. And it wasn't like he’d lied— Billy Marlin’s glare was nearly as icy as Sabrina’s. And, it wasn't like the way Billy looked at you- with something akin to possession in his eyes- totally made Caliban want to fast track the kid to damnation right then and there. Nope.

“We can meet up later today to practice? I have cheerleading practice after school, but I’m free after that!” You grinned at him, and he felt the tension ease out of his shoulders as you rested your hand on his arm. The gesture was so effortless- but to Caliban, who’d never really experienced connection like this- you reduced him to all but clay again.

“I can drive you home after practice?” Caliban offered, enjoying the yelp that Sabrina let out from the back of the classroom. He shouldered your bag as the bell sounded, noting the way your eyes softened even further at the gesture. “We don't really have cheerleaders down under, you know.”

“You’re welcome to stay and watch.” You shrugged, ignoring the way your heart thudded erratically as he walked you to the locker room. “It won’t be too long today, and Sabrina has a date with Nick after, anyways.”

it was really just too easy.

i can't get your smile out of my mind

i think about your eyes all the time

you're beautiful but you don't even try

(you don't even, don't even try)

modesty is just so hard to find

Caliban wasn’t sure if he regretted his earlier offer. Sure, the sight of you tucked into the tight cheerleading uniform (did they make them that short on purpose?) was pretty much the pinnacle of male fantasy, and the smiles and winks you’d thrown his way whenever he caught your eye during your routines were something else altogether.

But getting the sight out of his brain as you rambled aimlessly in the car about today’s chapters of Dante’s Inferno, while he simultaneously tried to focus on the road and definitely not the way your skirt hitched on the leather seat...

Yeah, Caliban was pretty sure he was in love.

You weren’t too far off, in all honesty. Caliban’s large hands had a firm grip on the steering wheel, and you took the time to admire further up his toned arms as he drove. His hair fell in loose, windswept waves, and his side profile looked like it was sculpted by the freaking gods. Every so often he would glance your way, his perfect lips parting to reveal his perfect teeth and perfect smile and gods-

Yeah, you had the lovebug bad.

“So how did you meet Sabrina?” You questioned innocently enough, and Caliban had to restrain the urge to spill all of the hell-related gossip to you. How Sabrina had managed to keep all of her throne-seeking from you was beyond him, but it certainly added a thrill to his pursuit of you.

“I had some administrative issues the other day and ran into her. She doesn’t like me too much, I’ve gathered.” Caliban was careful not to lie- his entanglement with you had the added perk of pissing off your dearest cousin, but it was genuine on Caliban’s end. He found he didn’t really want to lie about things.

“Sabrina is... touchy.” You offered carefully, shifting in your seat as you pointed out directions to your home. “I don’t really understand why she doesn't like you, to be honest. I was actually going to have a word with her about being nice- you’ve been so sweet, and I was the new kid too a few years back. It's hard to find your place in the established dynamic of a small town.”

Caliban doubted you’d had too much of an issue, with the way the halls seemed to light up around you, but the accompanying smile you gave him was bright enough to soothe his imagined woes. “It’s alright, I reckon she’ll get used to having me around.”

“Used to you?” You mused with a giggle, leaning on the console in a gesture that brought your face much, much closer to his own. He was overwhelmed with your floral scent- something soft and summery and altogether you.

“I plan on being around you a lot, sunshine. If you don’t mind.” He grinned, turning to face you momentarily at the stop sign. Your eyes were wide with hardly concealed surprise at his words, and he watched the realization of the close proximity of his face flicker through them.

It happened so fast that Caliban was almost certain he imagined it- but your eyes had definitely glanced at his lips. The blush that tinged your cheeks as you pulled back confirmed it, and in a moment of calculated risk, Caliban moved to rest his hand on your exposed thigh.

“No, I wouldn’t mind at all.”

If Caliban squinted, he could almost picture that he was a normal teenage boy, driving a beautiful, normal girl home from school. The sinking sun was peeking through the windows, bathing you in an ethereal glow, and - at least for right now- everything was perfect.

you were perfect.

now i'm speechless, over the edge

i'm just breathless

i never thought that i'd catch this love bug again

hopeless, head over heels in the moment

i never thought that i'd get hit by this love bug again

Caliban draped himself across your bed, a languid smirk on his lips as you kicked haphazardly placed piles of clothes into your closet.

“I promise I’m not usually this messy,” you apologized with a sheepish smile, shoving a mass of shoes under your bed, “okay, that's a lie. I’m always this messy, I just didn’t expect company.”

Caliban hardly minded. It was adorable how embarrassed you were, and he took the time to take in your bedroom (drawn from his reverie only by the occasional delighted shout when you found a shirt you’d thought had been sacrificed to the laundry gods, or worse, Sabrina’s room).

The first thing Caliban noticed was the books. While your clothes lay in scattered piles, all of your books were meticulously organized and lovingly tucked into shelves that took up an entire wall of the room. Sabrina may have answered that Caliban’s only hobby was torturing babies (or her, which was the same thing, really— and also, what the hell? Caliban may have enjoyed the occasional soul flaying, but only when it was well deserved!)— but Caliban loved to read.

What was one lifetime in one world, when he could learn of a thousand others in just as many universes? Immortality could grow dull, and eternity had to be spent somehow. Caliban tried not to smile as you precariously placed the book that had found its way onto your nightstand back into its place, and supposed that it might be far more enjoyable with someone else.

You seemed satisfied with your damage control, and slumped onto the bed dramatically with a groan. It was then that Caliban’s hand found a stray victim of your clothing massacre.

“Nice.” He grinned, and you peeked up from your playbook to find him dangling a pink lace bra.

Shit.

“Give me that!” You lunged, but Caliban was too fast. He quickly moved them from your reach, laughing wildly as you wrestled him desperately for the bra.

“You are the worst.” A groan escaped you, and you huffed in fake-defeat as Caliban smirked victoriously at your retreat. You leaped at the chance, tackling Caliban with all your might. While momentarily surprised, he reacted quickly and shifted so that he was now pinning you to the bed, his hair dangling wildly in your face as you both laughed.

Caliban’s face was so close that you could see the flecks of green in his eyes. For a moment, his eyes seemed to flicker to your lips, but in the seconds it took for you to find your voice again, you’d lost your nerve.

“We should get back to the scene.”

The moment was broken, and Caliban retreated with a bashful look on his face. He ran a hand through his hair and moved to sit across from you, his cheeks tinted a little red as he politely handed you back your intimates and pretended to shield his eyes when you tossed it somewhere. You’d never been so freaking embarrassed in your life, but Caliban was smiling so softly at you, like you were—

“If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.” He motioned around with his hands dramatically, tone playful and light.

You were so dead. Caliban was freaking made for this romantic swooning nonsense that you’d tried to protest nearly the whole ride home, Billy Marlin be damned.

Giggling nervously in what you hoped seemed scene-appropriate, you tried your best to forget being a horny teenager to instead play a horny teenager. “Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this, for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.”

Caliban’s voice lowered, a smile still tugging at his lips as he took your hands in his own. “Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?”

“Ay, pilgrim.” Your own voice softened in turn as Caliban began to trace mindless patterns on the backs of your hands with his thumbs, “lips that they must use in prayer.”

“O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.” Caliban’s eyes were soft, and you imagined that Shakespeare had pictured the man in front of you when putting the words to paper. The words fell so naturally from his lips and he seemed engrossed in the scene— he was, for lack of a better word, enchanting.

“Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.” Your voice was hardly more than a breathless whisper, the proximity of your faces and the intimacy (however imagined) stealing the air from your lungs.

Caliban paused, his eyes meeting yours intently as if searching for something. Whatever it was, he seemed to find it as he took your face in both of his hands.

“Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take.”

It was all too much. You could hardly be blamed for kissing him as fiercely as you did.

It was like fireworks, like every cheesy romance novel and play (cough, Romeo and Juliet) claimed it would be. You’d had plenty of kisses before, but never one that melted your brain like this. You forgot all about the scene, about how not real this was supposed to be as your hands tangled in his windswept hair and he pulled you onto his lap.

It was Caliban who first pulled away, only just so that your noses were touching. He was breathing heavily, eyes blown wide— and you felt your whole face turn red as reality consumed you again. “I am so sorry, I’ll just—”

“Where do you think you’re going, Juliet?” Caliban’s hands firmly gripped your hips, preventing you from moving away. His fingers thumbed the band of your skirt, and his next words were a whisper against your lips.

“Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged.”

kissed her for the first time yesterday

everything i wished that it would be

suddenly i forgot how to speak

hopeless, breathless, baby can't you see?

Caliban was in love. He’d spent the next three weeks with you reciting Romeo and Juliet, sharing shakes at Dr. Cerberus, and tugging you into empty classroom and closets at every opportunity to kiss you senseless. Every moment not spent with you was at least somewhat occupied by the thought of you, and Caliban found he wasn’t the least bit upset about it.

And Sabrina was pissed.

If she’d hated him before, she positively loathed him now. It was the latest point of contention between yourself and your darling cousin, who’d you taken to threatening with various kitchen utensils and promises to tell the aunties she’d been sneaking out to make her behave. And Caliban, for his part, was perfectly polite— even though he still had every intention of taking the throne from the inexperienced witch who promised to destroy the balance of heaven and hell.

Which presented Caliban’s own latest dilemma. He was going to have to tell you eventually— and in a way that didn't make you totally hate him. He had a plan. Okay, maybe a skeletal plan. Or no plan. Yeah, Caliban was going to wing it.

After today. He just had to make it through your reenactment of Romeo and Juliet with no demonic catastrophes or maiming Blly, and then he would tell you everything.

But even that was too much to ask.

Sabrina burst through the english classroom doors, yelling in barely concealed panic that there was a BIG problem and the principal needed Caliban now.

Caliban moved to leave with an apologetic smile in your direction, which you were absolutely not having. Despite your current frustration with Sabrina, she looked downright terrified, and you were both concerned for your cousin and overwhelmed with a gut feeling that something was up.

After a few moments, you excused yourself to use the restroom.

You hauled ass to the gym, where the screaming sounded to be coming from. When you entered, you were met with the strangest sight.

The gym was filled with winged... rats? And at the center of the chaos was Sabrina and Caliban, back to back and armed with what appeared to be lacrosse sticks. Caliban’s shirt was tattered from the rats, and you took a fraction of a second to banish the completely innappropriate and untimely thoughts from your head.

“And no one thought to call me?” You shouted angrily through the swarm, snagging a baseball bat from the rack and smacking it around with reckless abandon. Caliban hooted, laughing loudly as you took your place beside them. Rats tore at your clothes, but you were more frustrated that Sabrina had called your boyfriend (or whatever he was) over you.

“Why did you get Caliban! I was right there! Is there something wrong with you? Were you dropped on the head as a child? He’s not even from here Sabrina, he has no idea what-”

“For hell’s sake, he’s not the new kid! He’s not even from Australia! He’s a stupid clay prince from hell who is trying to take my throne and raze humanity, and his stupid plague king sent these after me, and now he’s dating you!” Sabrina spat out the word dating as if it was even more disgusting than the winged vermin tearing at your clothes.

“Will someone please explain what the hell is going on here?”

You were no less frustrated when Sabrina revealed her trek to hell and the all ensuing madness she’d partaken in, but you remained calm enough to not turn the bat on her clearly empty skull.

“And you’re the clay prince of hell... challenging her throne?” You questioned with a sharp glance at Caliban, who nodded reluctantly as he swatted a rat hurtling towards you.

“Do you even have a driver’s license!” You screamed, waving your baseball bat around wildly.

“I’m a demon prince of hell made out of clay, and you’re worried about if I can legally drive?” Caliban shouted back in astonishment through the wave of shrieking rats. The lacrosse stick he’d snagged was surprisingly effective.

“I was getting to that part, thank you for reminding me!” You hissed, debating whether to smash his face in with the bat. “How about we start with how you completely lied to me, and how our whole relationship or whatever it is a lie! Were you ever going to tell me? Or was this all part of some throne grab?”

“It wasn’t a lie!” Caliban demanded hotly. “You were not a lie!”

“Really!” You whirled on him, eyes alight with anger. “Because I sure feel like one!”

The rats numbers were dwindling rapidly, and you smacked the last one heading towards you directly at Caliban’s face. It collided with a satisfying shriek, and you threw your bat down as you stormed out of the gym.

Sabrina and Caliban rushed after you, but you’d disappeared in the hall.

now i'm, yeah, oh!

now i'm speechless, over the edge

i'm just breathless

i never thought that i'd catch this love bug again

now i'm hopeless, head over heels in the moment

i never thought that i'd get hit by this love bug again, (oh)

love bug again

You’d remained collected until you’d transported into the middle of the living room, collapsing into auntie Hilda’s arms in a puddle of tears as you told her everything. She’d muttered a stream of ancient curses about Sabrina, but beyond that merely smoothed your hair and told you that all boys were awful— especially demonic princes of hell.

“I hate him.” You glared half-heartedly into your cup of steaming peppermint tea. You couldn’t believe you’d been so stupid. Falling blindly in love with a stranger who had only sought you out for some elaborate game with Sabrina. Screw Caliban and his perfect hair, his perfect smile, his perfect— “I want to bash his face in.”

“No you don't, love.” Hilda smiled knowingly. “You’re angry, yes— and hurt. But you care for the boy. I’ve never seen you so happy as you’ve been these last few days. I think you ought to cool down and hear what he has to say.”

“I never want to talk to him again.” You groaned, burying your face in a pillow. “I’d rather die.”

And because the universe was truly conspiring against you, a knock sounded at the door.

“Well, best get over that quick.” Hilda warned, ignoring your stream of indignant protests as she hustled to the door.

“Caliban! Yes, do come in love. Oh, yes, we will be having a little chat later, but for now I think it’s my niece you must be speaking to.” Hilda’s cheerful voice trailed in from the foyer, and you jumped up to make a break for it.

You were halted by a familiar pair of strong arms tugging you back by the waist.

“Get off of me!” You shouted, pushing Caliban away harshly and ignoring the warmth that lingered where he’d touched you. “I want my baseball bat. Somebody get me my baseball bat! I’m going to bash your stupid pretty face in you asshole—”

“Five minutes.” Caliban pleaded desperately, “just give me a five minutes to explain, and then I’ll give you back the baseball bat to bash my face in, okay?”

You considered his offer for a moment, swallowing the sob crawling its way up your throat as you nodded reluctantly. If it made him leave faster, you’d do anything.

His shoulder sagged in barely concealed relief. “Okay. I am Caliban, Prince of Hell. I am not from Australia, clearly, and am not a transfer student. I am trying to take your cousin’s throne. She does not understand the realm of the damned— she thinks it needs to be generous, rather than a fair judgment of life. I am not her father, and I do not believe in reckless or cruel damnation. I do not wish any harm on Sabrina, and I’ve managed to keep the worst of the plague kings from her. Even if you were to reject me now, I would continue to try to protect her— you have my word.” Caliban paused as you released a breath you did not know you were holding. Your eyes finally dared to meet his, and you nodded for him to continue.

“I agreed to attend Greendale because yes, it did piss off Sabrina, but you were there.” He raised his hand to halt your protest. “You intrigued me, and I wanted to know you better. I will be fully honest that it had the added bonus of irritating your cousin, who I so delight in irritating, but my primary focus was you. You... enchanted me. I had never found myself so invested in anything before as I was in spending mundane days at high school— of all things— with you. Truthfully, it confused even me at first. And while the past you knew is false, I am real— and my feelings for you are true.”

“That is such bullshit, and you know it!” You exploded furiously, smacking his chest with untamed rage. “You knew exactly what you were doing. Who agrees to go to high school because they like a girl? Are you unhinged? Who doesn't just ask someone out if they were so interested, huh? No, you came here with your stupidly perfect little ‘oh I’m Caliban, and I’m so dreamy’ act, knowing full well that it would make me completely abandon all rationality. Well guess what, I did! I fell stupid head over heels for you, and it was all one big lie.”

Your voice broke on the last few words, anger shifting to broken sadness as you continued to pound relentlessly on his chest. “I was a lie.”

He caught your hands, holding them against his chest as he pressed you against the wall. “You weren't a lie, Spellman.”

His words were breathless whisper, his beautiful eyes pained and desperate as he gripped your hands harder. “I fell for you the moment I saw you. I enrolled in high school because you smiled at me. I learned every line of Romeo and Juliet to recite them to you. When we first met, you wondered how Romeo and Juliet could possibly fall in love after a mere few days, but I understand it now. I have never been driven so completely insane by anything or anyone like this before. The power you have over me is unmatched. I am completely and wholly yours. If you were to ask me right now to leave, to never bother you again, I would leave my heart with you and spend my eternity in endless sorrow. I would think forever of the way you smiled at me, the way you kissed me, how soft your hair felt in my hands, and how my heart raced every time you laughed. I would never forgive myself for the pain I had caused you, and you would haunt me every day, every waking moment, every dream.”

Caliban moved your hands to his lips, nearly kissing them as he pleaded to you with tears in his beautiful eyes. You were motionless, turned to stone by his heavy gaze.

“So please, don’t become my specter. If I am a stranger to you now, let me make you fall for me all over again. I would do it a thousand times, if you'd let me. I could think of no sweeter way to spend my eternity.”

When you’d thought that Shakespeare had been imagining Caliban when he wrote, you’d been wrong. There was no poetry, no book, no lyric that could possibly compare to the way he spoke to you— the way his eyes so desperately tried to convey his anguish.

You removed your hands from his, and his whole face seemed to shatter.

“You’re not a stranger,” you muttered softly, moving to take his face your hands. His face remained guarded, but he leaned instinctively into your touch. “You’re Caliban.”

When you kissed him, it was like falling in love all over again.

And you supposed you did.

“But we are having a long, long talk about everything.” You warned as you pulled back, poking his chest sharply as he nodded profusely. “And if you ever, ever lie to me again, I’ll set something worse than flying rats on you. I’ll let Sabrina have you.”

Caliban laughed wildly, picking you up and spinning you around as he kissed you over and over again in sheer relief and joy. “I love you, Spellman. Anything you want, it’s yours.”

“I just want you, clay boy.”

698 notes · View notes

drxwsyni · 3 years

Text

doubts and desires︱albedo x f!reader

summary: letting go of the past is hard, but losing what you have now would be harder. leaving albedo is neither something you can do, or something you really want, it’s simply taken you a while to understand that. word count: 2k warnings: implied dubcon, stockholm syndrome, past kidnapping

Even with how Albedo had bundled you up in a hat, scarf, gloves, and coat―it still failed to ward off the chill that seemingly sucked the warmth right from your body. Yet you said nothing about it, the unwanted attention it would draw from him inevitable if you made your discomfort known. And, you were almost certain he would drag you back to the cabin if he knew how the cold was treating you.

You didn’t enjoy the biting temperatures, but you didn’t want leave. Not when it’s been so long since you descended the mountain, that you barely even remember the feeling of snowfall against your skin.

The whole situation he’s placed you in is really quite foreign―confusing.

In how he’s letting you accompany him in his research, not far from his―your home. A safe distance, so to speak. Or that’s what he said, at least.

You realized that the way he spoke of this outing, how it’d just be the two of you, and that you wouldn’t venture very far; they were words of comfort. Not said to reassure himself that things would go smoothly, but to calm the look of trepidation in your eyes from the mere suggestion of going outside.

Now, seeing Albedo’s nonchalant demeanour while he studies the petrification of a fallen tree, it puts your mind at ease. Sure, if you look closely you’ll be able to see the way his eyes flicker to your form every few seconds or so, making sure you were right where he left you, but generally the alchemist is calm.

It makes you calm, for a moment it feels like you’re able to settle down and appreciate the intricate beauty of the snow swept mountain you stand upon. Best to do so now, knowing it wouldn’t be long until he would lead you home, sheltered safely away from the danger of the mountain’s climate.

“Oh―I didn’t know you were to be researching today, Albedo sir.”

With your back turned to the newly appeared stranger behind you, the cold that had seeped into your bones no longer posed as the only thing holding you in place―it was also now an icy fear.

You watched unmoving from your spot as Albedo gave pause, a hint of contemplation flashing across his face before standing.

“Timaeus. I thought you were studying back in the city.”

The man, who you had yet to properly address, responded with a somewhat nervous laugh.

“Yes, well I was, but it led me to do my own research out in the field…”

Always in a strangely graceful manner, Albedo dusted off his pants and straightened his jacket. A look of unashamed disinterest painted his expression as Timaeus rambled on about his findings.

Truly, you don’t recall Albedo ever showing such emotions with you―a detail not necessarily heartwarming, but still reassuring in an indescribable way.

Perhaps it was due to you being so sure that he’d rid himself of you when you no longer proved useful. Which made the swirling of affection and enamour in his eyes when he gazed upon you settle your nerves, even in just the slightest.

“...which I unfortunately have yet to procure. But―ah, I’ve gotten ahead of myself again. My apologies, how is your research coming along. And...who might you be?”

If Albedo recognized the look of severe anxiety flashing across your face, he paid no mind. Instead giving you a small, somewhat warm smile. As if to say, “Go ahead.”

The few seconds that passed were done in silence, you desperately trying to read Albedo’s face for ulterior motives, and the man behind you shuffling awkwardly in place while he waited for a response.

By some miracle, your body moved on autopilot, turning around to finally acknowledge the cause of your newfound distress. Only, you couldn’t even look him in the face.

Your mouth was dry, mind foggy and unable to think of a response that was anywhere near being coherent.

“...I―uh…”

“This is my new assistant. Please do forgive her, she’s quite shy.”

A shaky breath escaped your rigid body at the sound of Albedo’s voice, and the feeling of his hand resting gently upon the small of your back.

The blatant lie that only you and him recognized echoed inside your head.

Timaeus had no clue who you were, or what you meant to Albedo. But if he did know, you wondered what he would do.

“...Ah, it’s strange we’ve never met before.”

You could tell without looking that Timaeus was studying your form. With the way his tone shifted to something a little more unsettled, a pit grew in your stomach knowing how he had picked up on your questionable nervousness.

The hand resting on your back felt a little more heavy.

Albedo showed no signs of botherment, “That’s likely because she’s not from here.”

For some ungodly reason, the less experienced alchemist took this as an opportunity. “Oh, if that’s the case then we should show her around. Sucrose could use someone like herself to―”

“Actually, we were just leaving. I’m afraid I’ve kept her out in the cold too long, and descending the mountain any further is quite a reckless task in this weather―” His head turned to look at you, no longer addressing his student, “―right?”

If Timaeus was told of what his teacher had done to you, would he help? Even if he looks up to Albedo, even if everyone does, surely they would step in.

Only, the issue remained that first you’d have to prove to them you were in danger.

...And really, you weren’t. Not anymore.

The tender bruises around your wrists and ankles had healed long ago. Your health was in near perfect condition, what with how Albedo saw to it that you never did anything to put it at risk. A single and quick glance would show that you were so pristinely taken care of, complexion shining now that you no longer spent nights sleepless from fear.

What were you to even say?

Moreso, it remained true that you didn’t quite want to say anything.

Timaeus wouldn’t believe your truth, and Albedo would likely spin the scenario so that your words weren’t reliable anyways.

It dawned on you that Albedo knew this fact well, why else would he bring you with him if he wouldn’t still be entirely in control of the situation?

A simple movement, his hand drifted to your hip and gripped it firmly, urging.

Your voice, barely a whisper met his ears.

“...Of course…”

That was all he needed, sending an impatient, yet still neutral glance towards Timaeus, the smallest hint of self-satisfaction lingering in it.

His student took the hint.

_____

“I have to say, bringing you with me was quite...productive.”

After dinner, Albedo has you keep him company in his study. You, occupied with a book in a chair across from his desk, while he goes over his findings from the day’s outing.

“Research wise, I was able to study you in a foreign situation.” He continued, conversation one-sided, “The results were to my liking…”

Although construed in his ever sophisticated manner, his words told you that you did something right. He was proud, and that notion made the swell of a strange warmth in your heart grow.

The alchemist’s gaze remained downcasted at the papers strewn about in front of him while he spoke. “...I suppose you should be rewarded for such good behaviour.”

Your eyes flitted up, the story on your lap abandoned completely.

Albedo has never spoken of such a thing, not once entertaining the idea of rewards when he saw no reason to ever extend such gratitude. Even after all this time.

He must be especially pleased, you thought.

Perhaps, enough to grant you back even a small semblance of independence...that would most certainly be your wish.

You’d long grown used to his suffocating personality, the intense interest he paid you often resulting in little to no alone time. Albedo made sure you stayed in eyeshot, and in those inevitable times he needed to leave, he made them quick, and you were to be safely tucked away in the bedroom, door locked from the outside. There wasn’t a single detail he missed, no stone left unturned when trying to improve your security.

Unfortunately for you, it left little autonomy.

Just the smallest taste of self-reliance would be fine. You’d love to cook a nice meal, like the ones you used to make. Or perhaps to pick your own outfit one morning, something more your style than the things he put together for you. Any break from his constant guidance, no matter what shape or form, you’d gladly take―

“Why don’t you go get cleaned up then, I’ll meet you upstairs soon.”

Albedo neglected to look up as he spoke, and so he missed how the glimmer of anticipation in your eyes faded away. The way your shoulders dropped slightly, the look of disappointment flashing across your features in understanding of his words.

What he had planned, it was a reward...of sorts.

An excuse, as far as you saw it.

Albedo was known for testing the limits of living beings after all, and in certain ways, such studies extended to how he treats you. It’s a win win for him―he thinks it’s a reward, since he knows he can make you feel good, and doing so just shows him all those little things he can’t learn through idle observation. What makes you squirm or shy away with innocent embarrassment―information just as important as everything else he knows about you.

It doesn’t dissuade Albedo when he finally glances up to see what his offer has done, though the sight does make him feel as though he’s deceived you.

Still, he remains unapologetic. “While you gave me some good insight on how far you’ve...adjusted, I still can’t completely trust you. This merely turned out to be a good opportunity for satisfying your other needs―nothing more.”

Flipping open a nearby textbook, Albedo conveys wordlessly, a difficult habit of his, that the conversation has ended.

You, however, have yet to heed his words. Still seated, the once flickering of hope subsiding with each passing second. Call it grief, but you were sincerely expecting a different outcome. Though, knowing Albedo, and his constant need to grow more knowledgeable, you should’ve seen this coming.

“...I’d rather not have to force your compliance tonight. So, please―” He gestured towards the door with a wave of his hand, focus trained and brows barely knitted while he skims over his readings on the desk.

Honestly speaking, you once thought Albedo was a deeply confusing man. So too was the life he’d meticulously prepared, and swiftly forced you into. Yet, looking back, things may have been more simple than you once perceived.

Your only real job is to exist and comply. And you both know you’re not going anywhere, not going to say no. Especially now, given how effortless it feels to fall into routine, going through the motions of his request and carrying yourself upstairs.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realize it’s too late for you, what feels like an eternity spent at Albedo’s side having just about rendered your fighting spirit useless. It’s been long since replaced with what you’re coming to know as a certain fondness. You want to see the compassion in his eyes that’s sparked by your willing compliance.

It was a single, tangible goal. Not complex and unobtainable like those tasks of your past life. Attempts at obtaining those desires are futile, when today's events proved you genuinely no longer want them anymore.

It’s much easier to make Albedo proud. You don’t realize that you do it everyday, and that he’s just poor at conveying his own emotions...

Drawing yourself a bath, you wash away past doubts, settling with what your life has turned into.

Distantly, you hear Albedo make his way up the stairs and towards your bedroom. You like knowing what’s to come, which is always something you’ll have with him. You can’t say the same if you leave, and so you finally resolve that you never will.

#yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere albedo #yandere albedo x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere x you #albedo x you #tw dubcon

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jediken0bi · 3 years

Text

Boundaries

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary:

When JJ makes an offhand comment about Spencer not being particularly fond of physical touch to his girlfriend it causes a bit of a misunderstanding.

word count: 3180

Ever since you and Spencer decided to ditch your colleagues for the third time in a row to watch Doctor Who at his place instead, which resulted in him awkwardly admitted to liking you at the end of the night, you two have been practically inseparable. You knew that Spencer was shy when it comes to physical affection from the start but you also knew that a huge part of it was the lack of said affection throughout his life.

Often times he looks surprised when you hug him or kiss him with no particular reason in mind other than that you wanted to.

It's like he's used to only experiencing soft touches in the context of challenging and heartbreaking events happening to him.

You were set on changing that. You're going to make up for all the people who have failed to treat him with the love he deserves.

So far he hasn't stopped you from trying either. You cuddle him every chance you get, you kiss him whenever the opportunity presents itself and the environment allows it, you hold his hand while you're on the jet. You make sure Spencer is on board for all of this though.

You always ask him if he's okay with it before. The last thing you want is for Spencer to feel uncomfortable with you.

He's never denied you though and your question is always received with a big smile on his face.

Despite being very responsive to your touches Spencer doesn't allow himself to outright ask for them. Your best guess is that it comes from a long line of people denying him these simple pleasures. The thought breaks your heart.

You two were in the elevator on your way to meet the rest of the team in the bullpen when it all sort of went south.

You were holding hands with Spencer and he subconsciously squeezes your hand a little once the doors open. You give him a smile and lean up to press a small kiss to his cheek.

He immediately turns bright red and you giggle. He's given up on asking you for their reasons. He's starting to accept that you like kissing him and that's reason enough.

He grins at you and you let go of your grip on his hand. You both walk to your respective desks and stuff your go bags under them.

Before you can make your way back to Spencer you spot JJ across the room seemingly headed straight to your desk.

You know JJ is Spencers best friend and while you admittedly had a hard time accepting that your boyfriends best friend was a woman he used to have a crush on, you decided that you had absolutely no reason not to trust Spencer. He was happy with you and JJ was married with kids after all. Hell, Spence is their godfather. There's no need to worry about either of them having feelings for the other. You're sure of it"

Plus, you really like JJ. She was the hardest to win over simply because she and Spencer were so close but she never treated you with hostility. She was kind and respectful but kept you at distance until she was sure you were right for Spencer. You would've been upset if you weren't so happy someone was looking out for him after all.

"Good morning JJ" you greet her happily.

It really had been a good morning.

You and Spencer woke up earlier than usual to eat breakfast together. He made you pancakes!

Or, at least he tried. They were a bit burned but you told him that they were the best pancakes you have ever had. And you meant it.

He, of course, turned bright red and refused to take the compliment so you shut him up with a kiss.

A kiss that said 'Thank you for making me breakfast. I love you and i can't wait to spend the rest of my life eating burned pancakes with you'.

"Hey Y/N i was wondering if you had a minute to talk. About Spence." JJ approached you with a certain worry in her eyes that immediately unsettled you.

"What do you mean? Did something happen? I just saw him a minute ago and he seemed fine" You say nervously. Was there something you overlooked?

You make a mental note to go through the events of this morning again.

"No, he's fine! It's not that. I just wanted to talk to you about how it's going with Spencer. You know, being a couple and all"

JJ seemed almost nervous.

You weren't sure what to think about that.

She never dug around in your business before and you don't think she's got any malicious intentions but it does throw you off a little bit.

"Did you have something specific in mind? We're doing great, JJ. I know you worry about him but i think he's happy with me"

You say proudly because you know he is.

He tells you every night when you two settle down to lie in each others arms to read for a bit.

That's code for Spencer reading to you while laying his head on your stomach and you playing with his hair.

You smile at the memory.

"Uh yeah i guess i do. I just don't want you to think of this as something personal but i think as his best friend i owe it to Spencer to talk to you about it"

She looks down at her feet seemingly uncomfortable but willing to go through with this.

You were shocked to say the least. What could she possibly have in mind that would potentially hurt your feelings? Your mind goes to the worst possible scenarios and it's giving you a good bit of anxiety.

JJ seems to spot the look on your face and grabs your hands.

"No, no, no it's nothing bad per se! Just something you should be aware of to avoid misunderstandings"

You let out a small breath and calm down a bit. You're still confused though. If it's so urgent, why wouldn't Spencer tell you himself?

You were curious though.

"Okay so what is this about then?"

JJ looks at you with a bit of pity in her eyes and you immediately decide you hate that look.

"It's just that, you know, Spence is a bit of a germaphobe and he just doesn't do very well with people invading his personal space. Not that you're invading his space! Gosh no, you're his girlfriend after all. It's just that it seems like he might be a bit overwhelmed. I know it's non of my business, but i think he's trying to be okay with the PDA because it's something you want. I'm all for expanding your comfort zones but i'm afraid Spence is not going to tell you himself"

She finishes her nervous rant and you felt your heart sinking.

Is that why he never asks for your touch? You thought it was because he was shy but maybe it's because it makes him uncomfortable.

Was he trying to protect your feelings by not denying you touch whenever you asked?

Or worse, did he think you would leave him if he put up some boundaries?

Your eyes are filled with unshed tears and you look down at your feet out of embarrassment. You don't want to see the look on JJ's face right now. You're humiliated and honestly just upset Spencer wasn't telling you all this himself.

"Oh. Well, i'm sorry. I didn't know. I thought we were okay but i'll make an effort to turn it down. Thanks JJ"

It's clear she wanted to say something in return but you already turned away from her to flee the scene. It was overwhelming and you didn't want her to see you cry over this.

You went to the only place you knew you could feel freely without having to downplay the whole thing.

Penelopes Office.

You knock twice at her door.

"Hey Pen, can i come in? Are you busy?"

She immediately opens the door and with it, her arms.

"Never too busy for you honey bun!"

You give her a sad smile and hug her tightly.

You sniffle a little and she closes the door behind you two.

"What's wrong Y/N? Did Spencer do anything? I'll kill him for you. I have about twenty seven different ways that would make it look like an accident! Perks of working for the FBI"

This actually makes you laugh and you immediately know you've made the right call coming to Garcia.

"It's more about what he didn't do. Pen, am i a bad girlfriend?"

She grabs your shoulders and pushes you out of her embrace to look at you.

"What? How could you possibly think that? Boy Wonder has never been happier and i've known the kid for a solid couple of years!"

You look down again with an empty smile

"Then why would he send JJ to tell me all about how uncomfortable i make him?"

Okay so maybe you were being a bit dramatic but it feels like he broke your trust by talking to JJ about it before talking to you. At least, you assume he did. Why else would she bring this up?

"He did what? Are you sure?"

You raise your arms in a frustrated manner.

"I don't know Penny all i know is that JJ had some thoughts on how to be in a relationship with Spence!"

Garcia looked shocked and it makes you laugh.

"Yeah, that was my initial reaction too"

She shakes herself out of it.

"Did you talk to Spencer about what he thinks?"

You look at her with sheepish eyes.

"I don't want to yet. I'm upset with him and honestly a little embarrassed. I just wish he would've told me certain things himself. I think i'm going to take a sick day, okay? Can you let Hotch know i'm out for today?"

She looks at you with understanding eyes and gives you a nod.

"Of course, Bunny. Take care. And don't forget that Spencer loves you!"

You smile and give her a nod in return.

"Yeah, i know"

And with that you're out the door and on your way to grab your bag from your desk.

Of course you end up running into the one person you don't want to talk to right now.

Spencer looks at you with a small smile and you give him one back. Admittedly, yours looks a bit forced but you don't have the energy to pretend right now.

"What are you doing?" He asks innocently. He must be unaware of your conversation with JJ.

"I- Uh i'm taking a sick day. I'm not feeling so well"

You try to avoid eye contact but you fail to ignore Spencers worried expression in your peripheral vision.

"Are you okay? Was it the breakfast? I told you you shouldn't have eaten the pancakes!"

He sounds so distressed you can't help but laugh.

You were still mad at him but he was just too cute for his own good.

Out of habit you raise your hand to plant it on the nape of his neck where you usually toy with his hair before kissing him.

Just as you were about to put your hand on him you shake yourself out of it and retreat it.

He looks at you with confused eyes.

"What's wrong?"

He asks you with sad eyes. He's giving you completely mixed signals and it's driving you insane. Did he suddenly want you to touch him?

"Nothing. I just- I'm really tired"

You look down at your bag and pick it up to make your way out of there.

Spencer grabs your hand and it causes you to stop in your tracks. You breath in and out and turn around to look at him once again.

"Are- I mean are you leaving now?"

He looks at you with an embarrassed glint in his eyes. But there's something more to it. He looks hopeful. Like he's expecting something.

Maybe he's waiting for you to kiss him goodbye like you always do says a small voice on the back of your head.

No, you shake your head, JJ was perfectly clear about these things.

"Yeah, i am. See you later okay?"

You say with a small smile. You weren't mad at him for not being comfortable with PDA. That's not it at all. You just wanted him to be the one telling you.

You squeeze his hand and he exhales a little.

"Yes! Yeah, um, we're still on for tonight right? Your place?"

He seems so nervous and it reminds you a lot of the first few dates you two had. He was so afraid of messing up, of being laughed at or rejected.

"Of course we are. I'll order us some Chinese"

You give him a real smile and he starts lighting up as well.

"Yeah i'd like that. See you, uh, tonight then"

He's still holding your hand and you squeeze it one more time before letting go.

As you step into the elevator you know that you two have a lot to talk about.

--timeskip approx. 8h--

You've spend all day trying to figure out how to talk to Spencer about what happened at work today. You didn't want to fight with him and you hope he's not going to try and shut you out.

All your worries pretty much wash away when you find Spencer at your door holding a beautiful arrangement of flowers.

When he finally reveals himself behind them you can't help but drag him inside and press a kiss to his lips. You smile into the kiss and it's not long before Spencer does the same. It's harder than it sounds like but you two aren't willing to separate yet so you keep kissing for a little longer before leaning back to accept the arrangement.

"Thank you, Spence. They're beautiful"

You push the curls out of his face and cup his cheek in your hand.

He leans into it and closes his eyes for a second

"Almost as beautiful as you"

It's barely a whisper but you heard him.

Putting the flowers down on the counter you don't waste a single second hugging him tight to your chest.

He hums in contentment and you melt into him.

You've missed him so much today. You weren't used to being at distance with him. Emotionally or physically.

Speaking of.

"Does that mean we're okay again?"

Spencer asks pressing small kisses to your neck.

You shutter slightly before leaning back to look at him.

"What do you mean? Were we not okay before?"

You brush the curls that have fallen back into his eyes away again and he looks at you with wide loving eyes.

"I don't know i thought we were but then you didn't- um i don't know you just left and i thought maybe i had done something to upset you?"

He looks nervous. Almost like he's afraid he's going to say something wrong. You give him a small sad smile and decide that now is as good of a time as ever.

"I didn't kiss you because i know you're not comfortable with that"

You weren't mad anymore. You had enough time to process what happened and you've come to the conclusion that Spencer must've had his reasons. You're willing to let him explain.

He on the other hand looks at you like you've grown a second head.

"What? No i- why would you think that?"

You huff out a breath and look at him for a moment with raised eyebrows. You really thought he was going to tell you now. Is he waiting for you to say it?

Spencer looked genuinely confused and upset you would even suggest such a thing. It makes you wonder if he talked to JJ at all.

"Look, JJ came to talk to me today and cleared some things up and honestly i'm not upset about what she said. Not really. I'm upset i had to find out from someone who wasn't you. You could've told me. You should have told me actually"

This didn't do anything to wipe off Spencers confused expression. If anything, his frown just got deeper.

"Y/N i seriously don't know what you're talking about. I haven't talked to JJ this week"

Now it's your turn to frown. Did he not know? Was it really just JJ making assumptions that weren't true?

"But she said- No it doesn't matter what she said. What matters is that i want you to tell me, right now, if my affections make you uncomfortable in any shape of form. It's okay if they do Spence! I know i'm a lot but it's important we're both okay with what's happening between us"

He stares at you with a mix of adoration and confusion.

"Of course i'm not uncomfortable with you! I would tell you if i was. It's not even like you're doing any of it without checking with me first! Why would i lie to you?"

You let out a frustrated huff.

"Because you don't wanna hurt my feelings! But it's okay. We're equals and we can set up boundaries if you want. All that matters to me is that you won't shut me out"

Spencer smiles at you and it confuses you. Why the sudden mood change? Not that you're complaining. His smile always did manage to make you feel better. This time is no exception.

He grabs your hands and pulls you closer again.

This is new. Not the hand holding, but the fact that Spencer is the one initiating it.

"I promise you i have never been more comfortable with a person. I don't know what JJ told you and i'm definitely going to have a talk with her about boundaries but as far as we go, i'm more than happy with where and what we are"

You give him a small laugh and he joins in.

You wrap your arms around his middle and bury your head in his chest.

"So you're okay with me kissing you or touching you in general? In front of the team"

He presses a small kiss to the top of your head.

"More than okay" He whispers

You smile and lift your head to give him a proper kiss. He grabs the side of your head and pulls you even closer.

Lips just millimeters apart you look him in the eyes and find nothing but love in them.

"Also, next time you leave work without kissing me goodbye i'll make a scene. No hesitation"

You laugh loudly and push him away. He playfully stumbles back a couple of steps and laughs with you. He shrugs his shoulders

"Try me"

You lean your head on his shoulder.

You don't even know what you were worried about anymore. Spencer has a way to make all the problems seem to minuscule. You can confidently say you've never been happier.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #reader insert #fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds imagine

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showrunnerihardlyknowher · 3 years

Note

26 for the prompts? perhaps w the cat n mouse lads :3 (also look danny i did it i sent a prompt are u proud)

I...actually don't remember what the prompt was for this one, but I'm 87% sure it was "I'm not that scary, am I?"

So fine since y'all keep asking for 'em, here's more of the cat and mouse bois. Shoutout to @gabbydafurry and an anon for finally giving them names.

“C’mon.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“I said no.”

“I’ll make pollo asado for dinner, we can eat it together while we watch!”

Aaron sighed and rubbed his hands against his forehead, trying to ease the dull throb that had yet to wane over the past two days. His headache certainly wasn’t being helped by the constant badgering of his...roommate, for a lack of better words (as well as being a title so eagerly self bestowed by the cat in question) but much like many of their other interactions, his resolve was starting to wear thin. Usually, he was able to hold his ground for at least a week until he was bribed into giving the other some type of social interaction with the promise of his favorite foods. Today, however, the poor mouse just wanted a moment’s peace free from knocking on the walls or calling through the cracks until he answered, and if that meant watching some stupid movie then fine.

Plus, Lucas did know how to make some incredible Mexican food.

“...fine,” Aaron conceded after a pause, the pressure behind his eyes giving him a sharp pang before fading to its usual ache, almost like his own body was projecting how horrible of an idea this was.

As soon as the mouse slipped out from behind the curio, he came face to face with the massive grin of the cat mere inches away from the opening. Seeing the grin only split wider when he was fully in view of the other normally would have instinctively sent a shiver up his spine, it was kind of difficult to be intimidated seeing how Lucas had strangely contorted his body to lay on the floor between the curio and the bookcase. Most cats seemed to be fairly flexible, so it probably wasn’t too uncomfortable for him to be so bent and curled up, but he definitely lost some of that hunter’s prowess with his back twisted sideways and one leg leaning against the shelving.

In a flash, Lucas had managed to untangle his strange positioning to instead be crouched on his knees, now looming over Aaron in a way he wasn’t sure he would ever get used to. He flinched back when his hand started to reach out towards him, fully intending to scoop him up to dizzying heights without a second thought, but the appendage stopped just short of touching him at all. Instead, he dropped his hand palm side up and waited, smiling all the while. At least he was getting better at remembering Aaron’s explicit request to not be grabbed without permission, though he did always apologize with a sheepish look and some little treat whenever he forgot.

Once Aaron climbed onto the awaiting hand that radiated a delightfully intense warmth into his already aching muscles, Lucas was already jumping up a chattering a mile a minute about how much the mouse was going to love the movie he picked out, how dinner would be ready soon, how he wasn’t expecting him to actually agree to watch a scary movie with him since he never seemed like the type who would be into that sort of thing but--

“It’s a scary movie?” Aaron interrupted, the noise finally registering beyond the headache. Truthfully, he tuned a lot of what the other said out for almost every conversation, not that it ever seemed to make a difference. Yeah, sorry, I’m a bit of a chatterbox, he admitted once, but it’s less weird talking to someone who doesn’t respond than to talk to yourself, right?

Debatable.

Lucas tilted his head and snorted. “Uh, yeah? That was one of the first things I told you about. You know that one actress who’s in almost every one of those Christmas movies we watch, who’s always the jealous best friend?” Aaron has no idea who he was referring to given that he never absorbed anything from those stupid romance movies he was boarderline forced to watch, but nodded anyways, “Right, this is supposed to be her big break out role, or something. It’s the first thing she’s doing as a lead actress, and you know, good for her! I’m glad she’s getting out of that typecast she’s been in forever. Horror probably wouldn’t be my first choice for her, but I guess since she has those singing vocals it could carry over to being a scream queen. Kind of like when--”

And Aaron was out of the conversation again.

Lucas continued to drone on about the actress’s entire film career, or at least that’s what the mouse was assuming he was doing when he occasionally zoned back in to pick up a stray word here and there. The headache he had been staving off to the best of his ability was starting to come back with twice as much force as it often did in the later days. He probably could have just asked the other for some aspirin, maybe even some cold medicine as that was no doubt what this bout of illness was turning into, but asking the cat for anything was always out of the question. Of course, Lucas tried to sway him numerous times into thinking it most certainly was not and that he could always ask for whatever he needed, never to his avail. Aaron was indeed willing to prolong his suffering if it meant not having to stomach the dreadful embarrassment that would come to being indebted to the feline, no matter how insignificant.

Unfortunately, he was only setting himself up for failure in thinking this “agreement” would be providing him any sort of relief. His headache was treading dangerously close into becoming a full fledged migraine and the flashes of light and screams from the television would not be doing him any favors. His only saving grace was that, after he had been settled on the couch and Lucas scampered off to get the dinner he promised, the cat turned off every other light possible to, as he put it, really get them in the spooky mood!

The smell of the food was delicious and nauseating. His stomach both wanted and revolted at the idea of anything filling it, which would only serve to worsen his headache no doubt. Damn it all, he wanted to throttle both himself and this illness, the first for agreeing to watch this stupid movie when he was already feeling under the weather, the second for preventing him from getting his half of the deal. These movie-dinner dates deals were the only reason Aaron continued to stick around, even if he thought the torment of being forced to watch awful romcoms in exchange for a hot, homemade meal was a little unfair. No, that wasn’t entirely true, Lucas was a freaking culinary genius as far as the mouse was aware. It was a wonder why he wasn’t majoring in a cooking field.

“I’m not hungry right now,” Aaron lied when Lucas had asked why he wasn’t eating. “I’ll try some later.”

The cat looked at him strangely before shrugging. “Alright, just let me know. If you don’t like it, I can always make you something else.” There he goes again, offering things he knows the other can’t accept. At least he could let it slide this time as he had no appetite to think of any other dish.

Lucas finished his own meal in silence, completely fixed on the television as the opening scene carried on, introducing the canine main character that Aaron did, in fact, vaguely recognize. This was fine, he figured, the dark apartment coupled with a painfully slow movie, a warm body moving to curl up behind him as it so often did during these deals, he could probably get a few moments of real rest in before the credits rolled. As much as he loathed to admit it, the cat was actually rather...comfortable to be forcefully cuddled by. He wasn’t like other movie goers that needed to make a comment on every character’s decision, steady breathing and the occasional purr helping the mouse slowly relax.

That relaxation was cut short as soon as the romcom actress tore her tiny avian neighbor to shreds by the end of the first act.

Aaron had hardly been paying attention to the storyline up until this point, something to do with the girl being bitten and experiencing insatiable hunger lately. The sudden carnage of the otherwise trusting little prey creature made both of them flinch in surprise, though Lucas was quick to laugh it off. From then on the mouse’s unwavering attention was glued to the screen, but not by his choice. A chill ran through him each time she claimed another unsuspecting victim, always a prey animal, and ripped them apart with her teeth and nails like a starving animal. The way the tiny’s incredibly realistic viscera was slurped into her bloody mouth made him queasy, all too easily imagining himself in their shoes.

Eventually, her hunger became too strong and she began attacking fellow predator species as well. Ripping into throats and soft bellies was far messier than snacking on a tiny creature in three bites, making her feast all the more gory. While the violence still unsettled him, it was a touch more bearable now that he couldn’t picture his own body being mangled between the teeth of a predator he thought he could trust. Speaking of…

The mouse gulped and risked a glance behind him at the other who had hardly moved, save for a few jolts and snickers whenever a particularly good jump scare managed to startle him. It didn’t go unnoticed that every time Aaron had physically reacted to a sudden screech or attack, the cat would curl just a little bit tighter around him, hiding a laugh behind a rumbling purr. He wanted to believe this was meant to be an act of comfort and not something equally as nefarious as the canine plotting her next kill. Regardless, Lucas was equally transfixed on the movie, except he seemed to be enjoying every minute of the horror aspect. His tail would flick in interest during the high tension scenes, even more so when a chase sequence was underway. It made sense, considering that was his favorite game to make Aaron play.

Whatever the case may be, the mouse couldn’t help but be unnerved tenfold that the other had the audacity to enjoy a fictional movie he was interested in seeing. The last thing the mouse wanted was for Lucas to get any more ideas when it came to chasing him around the apartment, much less awaken any sort of primitive instinct to maim his prize after it had been captured. To this day, it remains a deep seated fear in the back of his mind that every time the cat cupped his hands over him, his teeth would be quick to follow. Natural instincts were hard to shake for a reason when it came to prey animals such as himself, he could only hope the same wasn’t true for predators.

His imagination was running rampant, enough so that he completely missed how the movie ended. Something about a cure, something about being put down, whatever. The only thing on his mind was the morbidly hilarious thought that if Lucas were to go feral like the canine, would he eat him raw or would he cook him up in another fantastic dish?

Aaron jumped when Lucas moved to sit up behind him, only now registering the credits scrolling across the screen. He stretched a bit, the quickly fading warmth that had been surrounding the mouse making him realize just how tight the other must have been snuggled around him. How did he not notice?

“Wow,” Lucas said, pursing his lips. “That...was one of the worst movies I have ever seen in my life.”

That wasn’t the reaction Aaron had been expecting him to have, but it was certainly better than to hear him go on about how it was a brilliant masterpiece. He got up to flick the lights back on, still laughing as he recounted each poorly written scene and cheesy effects. “I mean, oh my god, right? The mail man saved everyone? Seriously? I actually feel bad for making you watch that, you totally have dibs on the next movie night.”

He turned around to look at the mouse who was still huddled tight on the couch, wide eyes glued to the screen even if it was just names moving along with ominous background music. Lucas gave him another quizzical look, smirking.

“C’mon, even you have to admit those tinies had zero survival instincts. Like, who goes up to a rabid dog and asks for directions? I get suspending my disbelief and all, but they could have made it just a pinch realistic. This is so going to tank her acting career…” The cat shook his head and moved closer to the couch so that he stood right in front of the television, finally drawing the other’s attention to himself. “Hey, you hungry now?”

Oh, absolutely fucking not. An hour and a half of being tensed up gave no relief to his aching muscles and now that the lights were back on, so was his pounding headache. His stomach rolled, the nausea a mix of dizziness and disgust from the special effects. He didn’t even want to think about food, he didn’t want to be out in the open anymore, and he most certainly did not want to spend another minute in the cat’s company right now.

“S-sure…” Aaron finally squeaked out. He just needed Lucas out of the room, distracted somewhere so he could make a break for it. In some instances, he would have just darted off whether the cat saw him or not, but that always resulted in a game of chase that had a 50/50 success rate, the other loving it anyways. All he wanted was some peace and quiet to rest up and heal and not think about how easy it would be for the other to bite off his head whenever he felt like it.

Lucas stood there for a minute, studying him, and just when Aaron genuinely feared he was going to pounce, he flashed an innocent smile. “Cool, just give me a couple minutes to get it heated up.” And with that, he disappeared into the kitchen.

Aaron decided to be bold and waste a few precious seconds of his head start to collect himself. Deep down, he knew he was being ridiculous. Lucas had been nothing but kind to him. Aloof, but still kind all the same. But as a prey animal that spent the better part of his life living in walls and stealing to survive, trust was a risk he simply couldn’t take. There was hardly any benefit to keeping up this con if the end goal was simply to eat him. For all he knew, though, Lucas was nothing more than a merciless sociopath that was willing to milk every ounce of fear he could before chowing down. A sociopath obsessed with romantic comedies and wore an apron when he cooked and had begged Aaron for two months straight to tell him when his birthday was so that he could make him a miniature cake.

...okay, so maybe Lucas wasn’t a sociopath, but that didn’t mean he was trustworthy. Evolution gave him sharpened fangs and agile reflexes for a reason and the mouse was not about to find out what it was like to be on the receiving end of those one day.

With his head as clear as it was going to be for the time being, sans the dull throb behind his eyes, the mouse finally pushed himself up to make his way over to the couch arm. Slowly, as to not overwork his stiff joints, he climbed his way down to the floor and skittered under the couch for a little extra protection. Strangely, he noticed that he didn’t hear any noises coming from the kitchen just up ahead and when he stopped by the doorway, he couldn’t see anyone either. Losing track of the massive cat should not be possible, especially considering this was a one bedroom apartment and there was literally nowhere else for the feline to go without coming back through the entryway. Aaron should have taken it as a blessing, but of course he couldn’t leave well enough alone.

He proceeded to be daring and come out from under the couch completely to peek into the kitchen, confirming it was empty. Again, that shouldn’t even be possible for Lucas to slip out without having to directly pass the living room to go somewhere else. Unless he had, which would mean Aaron missed him somehow. He had been in quite a deep thought process on the couch...but he could have sworn he was only collecting himself for a minute!

The answer became glaringly obvious when the mouse took a few hesitant steps back and turned to retreat under the safety of the couch, only to come face to face with Lucas. He damn near jumped out of his skin, slamming his back against the wall in an effort to gain another inch of distance between himself and the face taking up his entire view. Really, this was nothing too out of the ordinary for the cat, he loved to sneak up and pounce whenever the opportunity presented itself and Aaron wasn’t too obviously close to heart failure. What made his heart stutter, however, was the fact that Lucas didn’t look like...well, Lucas. There was no smile, no warm eyes, no words being talked a mile a minute about nothing.

No, there was just a frowning cat with his ears pinned back and pupils slit, stalking closer with a terrifying rumble in his throat.

Instinct overtook him as soon as he saw the other’s lip twitch, trying to dart under the couch for safety and having his path immediately blocked by a hand being slammed down, claw out. Aaron couldn’t even yelp, the bile in his throat threatening to turn into vomit if he idled around too long. So, he didn’t. Instead, he turned on his heel and scampered in the opposite direction with the cat hot on his trail. He very nearly dodged a swipe, Lucas hissing that his blow didn’t land while Aaron only tried to speed up his sprinting. They circled maybe half of the living room, the mouse weaving under furniture while the cat knocked into them in an effort to jarr his prey into taking a misstep.

It worked, unfortunately, when Aaron took a sharp turn at the bookshelf and caused Lucas to clip it with his shoulder. The small bump did nothing to deter the cat on his hunt, but the two books that came tumbling down were enough to make the smaller skid and trip to avoid being squashed under the novels. He ended up twisting his ankle awkwardly, stumbling flat on his face while the momentum of his running made him roll twice until he landed on his back. Despite being winded and the additional pain in his leg, he knew there was no time to waste, trying to pull himself. It was too late, though. The cat was already on top of him, hand coming down to pin him under his palm while only his head poked free from between his fingers.

That cold, terrifying face came nearer, eyes tunnel visioned on its prize. Oh God, Aaron would give anything to have the other Lucas back right now. He’d watch a thousand sappy movies, do a date night for every meal, actually move into his bedroom like the cat had suggested he do a dozen times. He wanted...fuck, he wanted his friend back. What he thought was his friend, anyways. Not this killer, not this predator who was baring his teeth and was now mere inches away from biting off his face and--

The growling above him broke off into a snort shortly before turning into a full blown laugh. Aaron wasn’t sure when he had closed his eyes in preparation for his certain death, but when he dared to open them and blinked away the budding tears, he saw that smile he had been wishing for again. Kind and warm, just like eyes, and it was like Lucas had never even taken the form of a starving hunter in his life. Like he hadn’t been moments away from devouring his beloved roommate.

“Oh, come on,” he howled with laughter, “You can’t be serious! That movie actually scared you? I mean, I thought you looked a little freaked out by it, but wow!”

The movie...so this...this wasn’t real. Lucas was just pretending, just playing a prank on him. He thought that the movie had simply wound him up and made him jumpier than usual, no different than watching a zombie flick and popping out from behind a bush at your friend later on.

Except it was different. It was different in the fact that zombies aren't real, but predators are. Predators didn’t need an excuse to go feral and maim and consume their tiny cohabitants, they simply could by the laws of nature. And yes, it may be illegal and have several laws in place to protect prey species, but if no body was ever left behind, who could say if foul play was involved? That was the whole plot point in the otherwise dull movie they sat through together, the reason why the woman was able to avoid suspicion of her sickness by feeding on tinies that could only be reported missing at most.

Lucas’s laughter had tapered off, still clearly enjoying himself. “Alright, note to self, no more horror movies.” Finally, he released Aaron from under his hand to sit back on his haunches. “Man, I really didn’t think you would scare that easily, especially from a B-movie like that. Anyways, are you actually ready to eat now? I put your stuff in the oven so it would reheat better, but it should be done by now….Ronnie?”

Aaron hadn’t moved an inch since he was originally pinned, not even after the hand had been lifted off of him. He just stared up blankly at the cat, trembling and wide eyed, unable to do anything as the rapid succession of events sunk in. The cat’s humor died down a little, smile hesitating.

“Hey, look, I’m sorry. I just couldn’t resist, you know?” He shrugged a little sheepishly. “You didn’t even notice when I came back so I thought...I don’t know, it was funnier in my head. I almost broke character and started laughing before you ran!” With still no verbal response, Lucas reached out a hand. “Aaron? You good? Come on, I’m not that scary, am I?”

The reaction he got probably wasn’t what he was hoping for with Aaron suddenly scrambling to push himself away from the outstretched hand that might trap and tear apart his limbs. He gave a sharp squeak, managing to find his footing only to come crashing down as soon as he took the first step, his ankle noticeably swollen by this point. His cry of pain was muffled into a desperate grunt, trying so hard to drag himself away as a last ditch effort to avoid the same fate as the bird and the squirrel and the mole in the movie.

Lucas gasped. “Oh, Ronnie, your leg!” Both hands were reaching for the mouse now, aiming to cup around him and scoop him up before they surely put him out of his misery. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I didn’t...oh my God, I hurt you.”

Yes and no. In truth, Aaron had been the one to hurt himself by making his body move in ways it physically shouldn’t. But that didn’t change the fact that Lucas had shown his true colors. Perhaps in hindsight, that wasn’t a fair assessment, as he really did think he was playing a harmless little joke on a skittish friend. The pain came from knowing that the cat could turn feral, though, no matter how genuine he was being. There was still clearly an instinct within him, one that knew how to hunt and bare his teeth and hiss, one that knew deep down where they both ranked on the food chain. It hurt in knowing everything he thought about his friend, everything that kept him from really letting down his walls like the other so desperately wanted, was right. Cats and mice were not friends.

“Get away from me!” Aaron shrieked when the hands came too close. Though they withdrew quickly, he didn’t bother to watch if they would move again as he forced himself up to stumble back to his nook behind the bookshelf.

“Aaron, wait!” It was a fruitless request and Lucas knew it as he didn’t even try to stop the mouse from disappearing behind the furniture back into the walls. It would only make matters so much worse. “Aaron, please, you’re hurt, just...at least let me help you. Please. I...I’m so sorry! It was an accident, I promise!”

The cat shuffled closer, leaning down in hopes that the other could at least hear his pleas better, could hear how sincere he was trying to be. “I would never hurt you, Aaron. You’re one of my best friends. Look, it was a stupid prank and I’m an asshole and I’ll never do it again, just please come out. Just let me know if you’re alright?”

It didn’t matter how hard or for how long he tried, Aaron was long gone within the walls.

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love4buckybarnes · 3 years

Text

PROMISES

Summary: Bucky and Y/N we’re married and love. But differences had set them apart. A promise, one of many they had made, was broken, threatening the love between them.

Bucky Barnes x Reader. Warnings: car accident, minor injuries, mention of pregnancy complications, and angst. Happy fluff ending.

A/N: Let me know what you think of this one. The title is a bit questionable so if you have one that you’d like to share, I’ll credit you :).

They were both madly in love. When they first saw each other, the world stood still. Cheesy, but it was true. At least that’s what they would tell everybody of how they met. Their romance story is one you would read from a book or see in a movie. Bucky knew Y/N was the one, so he got on one knee and asked her to marry him. The day he proposed and when they made their vows and promises, were the most memorable moments together. Ones they could never forget.

Time went by and what appeared like the perfect happy couple turned upside down. Around family and friends, they put on a fake persona. Behind closed doors, the endless fighting and tension caused a rift between them. It started when they were trying for a family. Sometimes things aren’t just handed out freely to everyone. Y/N experienced fertility issues. It was stressful for the both of them. Most fights were over something small which would blow up out of proportion. Some nights they made up, and some nights, one would end up on the couch. Sometimes they wondered if they should give up.

Tonight was supposed to be important. Y/N had all of it planned out for the special occasion. She made reservations at their favorite restaurant. Bucky promised he would be there. Despite everything, she still loved him all the same. She wondered if he still loved her .

She sat there alone. The stares and looks of the people around her was unsettling and made her embarrassed. Y/N had been all dressed up and makeup done. Eventually, she had enough of waiting and stormed out.

The door to their apartment swung open. Bucky has been sitting at the table with his face scrunched up in concentration. He couldn’t even bother to look up.

“James Buchanan Barnes,” Y/N spat out each name, crossing her arms. She was furious.

Bucky glanced up. “Hi,” he said quickly, before returning his attention to the computer in front of him.

This made her tick even more. She marched over to where he sat and slammed the laptop shut.

“Hey! What the fuck?!” Bucky exclaimed, standing up. The chair fell backwards to the floor with a loud bang. “Why would you do that? I didn’t save what I was working on.”

“I don’t care,” she snapped. “Do you remember where you were supposed to be tonight?”

Bucky thought for a minute. After remembering and realized his mistake, he cursed. “I’m sorry. I forgot.”

She stepped closer to his face. “You promised you were going to be there.”

“Sam needed me to work on this mission. It’s important. I got wrapped up in it.”

“So this was more important than what we had planned?”

“No, I did not say that. Now you’re just putting words in my mouth,” he fought back.

“Gosh, why can’t you just try to put in a little more effort?” She hadn’t noticed the tears rolling down her face.

“Me try? How about you?” he scoffed, his eyes narrowing. “You have everything to do with this chaos of whatever this is just as much as I do. In fact, it’s all you. It’s all because of you!”

Y/N felt like someone cut into her chest with a blade and ripped her heart out. She always thought it was her fault. And now he blamed her, too. This has been the last straw. “Oh wow, well, thanks for the clarification I needed to know.”

“Where are you going?” he asked in a frantic tone when she headed towards the door.

She paused in her tracks to answer him. “I need to go. I can’t be here. Especially knowing what you really think of me.”

Bucky winced at her words and flinched at the loud thud she made when she left. The palm of his hand brushed over his face. He regretted what he said. He never blamed her. Whether she knew it or not, his love for her has been the same since they have met.

Thunder rumbled, and lightning dashed across the dreary night sky. Y/N stepped out into the pouring rain. She reached the car parked across the street. Before she could get in, Bucky stepped in front of her, blocking her from going any further. He placed his hands on her shoulders.

“Please don’t go,” Bucky begged. “I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it. I love you.”

Y/N avoided his eyes and yanked away from his grasp. She was so angry, she didn’t know what to believe anymore. “Yeah well, you have a funny way of showing it.” She got in, locking the door. He knocked on the window. Ignoring him, she drove off. Her mind swirled and her eyes hazy with tears. She wasn’t sure when she would come back, or if she would return at all.

Bucky saw it happen right in front of him. He watched her drive off. Turning around to go inside to get out of the rain, he heard the tires from afar screech against the concrete. He looked back just in time to see the vehicle swerving. The slippery road caused the car to skid across the road. It hit a curb, tumbled over and rolled a few feet away.

He could hear his heart pound wildly in his ears, stomach turned in knots. He felt as if his airway were being constricted. Bucky didn’t feel his legs carry him over there, not caring he was soaking wet. All he cared about was her.

Darkness spotted her vision. A blurry figure appeared in front of her. Even through fogged vision, she recognized who it was.

“Baby?” Bucky croaked out, his voice soft, trying to keep himself calm. Inside, he was all but calm. He had to keep the sheer panic under control so he could help her. “Stay with me, okay? I’m going to pull you out.”

“Bucky?” she hissed out in pain.

“I’m here, Doll,” he said reassuringly.

Her eyes fluttered. A loud snap in her ear stirred her back to consciousness.

“Don’t close your eyes, love,” he pleaded. “Just focus on me, okay? Keep them on me.” He watched her fight herself from passing out. His hand reached in to unbuckle the seatbelt that held her to the seat. With ease, he unhinged the door, that was already hanging off the rest of the way. He carefully maneuvered Y/N from the car and set her down on the ground. He trembled as he dialed 911.

When he looked back down, she was unconscious. Blood seeped from the gash on her forehead. He slapped gently on her cheeks to get her to wake up, but she was out cold. Bucky felt like his whole world was shutting down. He couldn’t contain the sobs escaping his throat. He rarely cried. He’s only ever shed tears a couple of times in front of her. Once when they first said I love you and when they said their vows.

Guilt devoured his entire being. The whole time they’ve been together since being married, had been spent with fighting instead of loving each other. All he ever truly wanted was for the both of them to be happy. But he let the blaze consume them.

Hearing sirens wailing in the distance, relief released from Bucky. Flashes of bright blue lights got closer, and soon the EMTs were there to help. They placed a brace to keep her head and neck supported in case there was an injury before putting her on the stretcher. For Bucky, it was all in slow motion. He blocked out the EMT asking him questions, jumping into the back of the ambulance.

At the hospital, he tried following her into the emergency room, but wasn’t allowed to. He paced around outside. His foot tapped on the tile uncontrollably, the nerves wracking his mind. He held his head between his knees to keep himself from having a panic attack.

Couple of hours later, the nurse stepped out to talk to him. “James?” she called out.

He jumped up hearing his name. His jaw clenched as he waited to hear what she had to say.

“Your wife is going to be fine. She has a concussion, a few stitches, and a fracture in her collarbone ,” she started to say. He let out the deep breath he has been holding in. “The baby is also fine.”

Bucky whipped his head up, confused. “The what?!”

“Oh, maybe you didn’t know, but she’s pregnant,” the nurse clarified. “Luckily, the baby doesn’t have a scratch.”

Now he understood. Why it was so important to be there at the restaurant, and why she was so upset about it. The guilt he felt engulfed him more. He needed to figure out how to make it up to her. Bucky swore to himself he would never disappoint her again and to keep all the promises he makes.

Annoying constant beep sounds lulled Y/N out of her sleep. Vivid white blinded her vision as she came to. She groaned at the pounding pain in her head. Her fingers twitched, gripping the sheets. Eyes opened to the ivory room. Her face scrunched up, trying to remember what happened and where she was.

A snore next to her got her attention. Bucky slept in a chair beside her hospital bed, waiting for her to wake up.

“Bucky,” she rasped out, her throat scratchy.

Bucky stirred. When he realized she was conscious, he sprung awake. He called for the nurse to check her over, making sure everything was fine. When she left, he sat back down, taking one of Y/N’s hands in one of his, pressing it to his lips.

“Oh, baby,” he said, ever so softly. He brushed the strands from her face and tucked it behind her ears. “Oh, thank god you’re awake.” Tears brimmed, and he didn’t care, letting them fall. His lips curved into a smile that didn’t fully reach his eyes. He gently left kisses on her cheeks. Calloused thumb brushed the delicate skin.

“What happened?” Y/N asked.

“You got in an accident,” he explained. “Just a concussion, broken collarbone, and a few scratches. And you might be achy from the whiplash.”

Y/N shot up out of bed in dismay, only to be pinned back down.

“Hey, no, you need to stay in bed and rest,” Bucky ordered her, firmly keeping her from moving.

“But the bab-,” she began, but Bucky cut her off.

“I know,” he said sadly, interrupting her. “I know you’re pregnant. The baby is fine, love.”

Y/N felt relieved. “How did you find out?”

The small smile on his face dropped. “When they x-rayed you to check for injuries, they found out you were pregnant.” His lip trembled as he cried harder. “I’m so sorry. That’s what you wanted to tell me. That’s why you wanted me to be there. I should have kept my promise and showed up. If I had, you wouldn’t be here.”

Y/N knew he was being true to his word. She reached up to wipe the tears from under his eyes. He sighed, leaning in to her touch he missed. “I’m sorry too. I was so excited to tell you. Things haven’t been easy for either of us. I couldn’t wait to tell you.”

He shook his head, beating himself. “Don’t apologize, sweetheart. You have nothing to be sorry about. It’s not your fault. None of it is. I’m sorry I made you feel that way. From now on, no more fighting. I just want to be us again.”

“‘I agree, Bucky,” she agreed. “I’m tired of fighting too. You still love me right?”

“Yes of course I still love you,” he said, in disbelief. “I love you so much. I could never stop loving you. And when you left, I was so ashamed. Then I witnessed the wreck. I thought I was going to lose you for good. And now I’m going to be a father. You’re going to be a mother.”

Y/N started to cry too. He kissed away the tears leaking down her face. “We’re going to be what we have always wanted. A family. You won’t lose me. I love you.” She grew weak with exhaustion.

“Sleep, darling,” he whispered in her ear. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

Before he could step aside, she took his hand to stop him. “Lay with me?” she begged.

He smiled, with the usual twinkle in his eyes that she adored. “Of course.”

She scooted over, making room for him. Bucky laid down next to her. Not wanting to hurt her anymore, he cautiously enveloped her in his arms. For once in forever, they both felt harmony. All the worries and differences lost in the past. They knew the rift between them was no longer. What seemed like the perfect couple hidden under the fire, still was. And they both knew their love for each other was now stronger than ever.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes #imagines #avengers #marvel #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier #winter solider imagine #bucky barnes imagines #bucky fanfic

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corpsedaydream · 4 years

Text

crash

so, here i am with a new one shot.

so before anyone asks if i’m gonna be posting frequently again or anything, i process things by writing about them. if something is running through my mind over and over and i can’t think through it on my own in my mind, writing about it generally helps me. this past weekend was supposed to be a fun long weekend away w my friends but it quickly ended when i experienced something pretty traumatic. i haven’t been able to sleep at all the past couple nights and so i started working on this. originally it was just going to be something private to help myself w the panic i was feeling then i started adding a muse into it and then i realised i was still writing about corpse without even meaning to, so i guess he’s still got me feeling musey.

anyway, i thought about keeping this private bc i’m still rly shaken up about what happened but idk feels like a shame to just let it sit on my computer.

idk if i’m back to this blog yet, i still feel indifferent about it. i’m signed out on my phone and was signed out on my laptop until just now and haven’t opened my inbox.

anyway. here’s the one shot.

word count: 1666 words (i’m not kidding)

trigger warning: car crash, panic attack

__________________________________________________

crash

Wake up. Wake up. Wake up wake up wake up.

The words repeated over and over in your head. You’d had dreams about crashing your car before, but usually you woke up just before the point of impact. This time you didn’t.

This couldn’t of happened, this can’t be real, this is a a dream, I’ve got to wake up.

But you were already very much awake, this was very much real.

The colour had already drained from your face, tears were welling up in your eyes and your heart had already sunk. Your hands were trembling, your chest was completely still, you weren’t breathing in that moment. Your body had reacted before your mind had completely caught up.

“Fuck.” Was all you managed to say as realisation had hit you. You’d gotten into a car crash.

You looked around you, wondering how the others cars on the road were still moving when it felt like your world had just come to a stop when your car had its collision. You heard your dad’s voice in your head, all the things he’d told you when he taught you how to drive, had - god forbid - you ever ended up in a situation like this.

You went through the motions as well as you could. You were in a state of shock and physically, you were definitely there, but mentally, you really weren’t present. You were having an out of body feeling in the most terrifying way, it was a defence from the panic that had overwhelmed you.

Corpse felt a surge of anxiety. He had no idea why, either. All he was doing was looking through fan art on twitter, he hadn’t seen anything that usually would make him feel like that. It just throttled its way into himself seemingly out of no where.

It was especially odd seeing that today had been such a good day. Waking up beside was usually something that put him in a good head space.

So he started to call you, you always made him feel better. But then he remembered you were driving and you were a cautious driver, you never answered your phone when you were behind the wheel. You’d told him in the past how tenacious your dad had been as a driving teacher and it had really stuck with you.

Just as he was about to hang up, knowing you weren’t going to answer, you did.

“Hello?” Something was off. Corpse heard it right away in just that one greeting from you.

“Are you okay?” He didn’t even greet you back, he already had anxiety running through him and the unsettling tone of your answer of the phone had only made it increase.

“I think so.” You were so monotoned. Corpse had never heard you speak this way. You were a lot of things, but monotone was not one. You were expressive, bright and dramatic.

“You think so?” He repeated in a questioning way, wanting to know what was wrong.

“Yeah.” You responded so plainly again. Corpse almost wanted to ask you who was he speaking to right now, because surely this couldn’t have been you. This person had your voice, but this was a person he did not know right now.

“What’s going on?”

“I crashed my car.” You said it to him so simply. There was no emotion behind it. His heart thundered as if a terrible hail storm had just broken out.

“What?!”

“I crashed my car.” You repeated. Once again so eerily unemotional.

“Where are you?!”

Corpse shouldn’t have been driving in the state he was in, but he needed to get to you. His emotions were running so high and he couldn’t comprehend why yours weren’t.

After what felt like the longest drive of his life, he reached the crash site. His panic peaked when he spotted the ambulance, immediately thinking the worst. But then he saw you standing to the side of it. You were up and talking to the paramedics, that was at least a good sign you weren’t seriously injured.

“(Y/N),” He called for you as he got out of his own car. And just like your voice on the phone, your movements were so robotic.

You were normally so open with your emotions, you were such a readable and honest person. When you were happy, you shined, when you were mad, you yelled red, when you were sad, you cried oceans. But Corpse had never seen you in a true state of shock. He’d never seen your fight or flight response. And apparently it was a stillness and unresponsive, the complete opposite to how you were normally.

“Are you okay?” He knew you probably weren’t, but he couldn’t find any clue to how you were feeling. Until his footsteps brought him closer to you.

You didn’t respond to him at all. Even words felt like too much right now. As he neared you, though, he spotted the signs of fear your body displayed that your words did not. Your hands and arms were trembling, your shoulders were slumped, your face was completely pale, sweat dotted all over your forehead despite it not being a hot day, tears were slowly spilling from your eyes one by one, your chest was moving unevenly as you struggled to breathe properly.

“Baby, c’mere.” Corpse didn’t hesitate to gather you in his arms. Holding you so tenderly against him. That’s when he felt that it was more than just your arms and hands that were trembling, your entire body had a slight shake to it. He knew you were experiencing true terror in that moment.

The time between your banged up car getting placed onto a tow truck and arriving back at your apartment felt like a blur.

You’d just gotten off the phone with your insurance provider when you’d heard Corpse.

“Are you in any pain?”

"What?” You’d heard him perfectly but you hadn’t once thought about how this had affected you physically.

“Are you in any pain?” He repeated himself.

“I’m not sure.” And you weren’t, but the paramedics had said that adrenaline would be coursing through you right now and adrenaline was the biggest distraction from pain. “I’m gonna go have a shower.”

“Okay.” Corpse watched you with concerned eyes until you disappeared behind your bathroom door. He so badly wanted to help, wanted to make you feel better, break you out of this state you were in that he was so not used to.

You didn’t know how much time you’d spent in the shower. But it was long enough that the sky had grown darker and the moon had replaced the sun by the time you emerged. Once you’d gotten dressed, you made slow steps towards your bedroom. Your hands were trembling more violently than before and your breathing was speeding up.

The shock was finally wearing off and reality was getting ready to slap you hard across the face.

“Corpse...” Your voice was so silent, almost as if you couldn’t form a word due to the air that seemed harder and harder to breathe as a panic attack started to take control of you.

Corpse might not have even heard you had he not been on such high alert for you right now. But he was, and so he did he hear you and when he saw the state you were in, he instantly got up from his spot on your bed where he was waiting for you and was wrapping you up tight.

You were hyperventilating so dangerously, your heart felt like it was being encased in treacherous clouds that tightened with every intake of air you struggled to get.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had cried this way. You were breaking down.

Corpse was completely holding you up. Had it not been for him, you would be a crumbled heap on the floor.

The both of you didn’t sleep that night.

Every time you were close to drifting off, the crash would replay in your mind on an insufferable loop and you would jolt awake and the panic would restart all over.

And every time, Corpse was right there to hold you through it. He didn’t sleep due to how concerned he was about you.

The next day was a little easier mentally, but a lot harder physically. You’d gotten so much emotion out the night before that now the pain could have your attention.

Everything from your hips up felt sore, stiff and tense. Every time you moved your neck was scary because it felt like it was about to snap. But worst of all was your chest. It was hard and painful to breathe. The paramedics had warned you about this. The impact to your chest was going to take the longest to recover from. You kept your breathing shallow, any other kind of breathing made you wince and Corpse noticed.

“You’re hurting.” It wasn’t a question, he was stating what he noticed. He’d known the signs of someone in pain. Plus he had also taken note of the bruises that had appeared on your skin, the colouring of them looking like a painting of a galaxy, all purple and blue.

“A little bit.”

“Mhm.” He knew it was more than a little bit, but he wasn’t about to argue with you. He looked over you laying beside him, grateful that you were still here, you were alive. A car could be replaced, but you could not.

You were flat on your back because that was really only the current position that felt even the tiniest bit comfortable right now. Corpse was on his side, one of his hands supporting his head as he leaned over you. His other hand began to soothingly run his fingers through your hair and you let your eyes flutter close at the touch.

“Tired?”

“Yeah.” You mumbled back, keeping your eyes shut and feeling exhaustion take over you.

“Try sleeping, baby. I’ll be right here.”

#corpse #corpse husband #corpse x reader #corpse husband x reader #corpse imagine #writing #mine

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hermits-that-craft · 3 years

Text

In My Dreams (Will You Remember Me?)

Flower Husbands Fic - Chapter Two - Can You Hear The Bumblebees Swarm?

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Jimmy’s late. He doesn’t mean to be late to the meeting, and he knows that he won't be the latest to the meeting - he just prefers to be slightly early so that there's no chance for him to be late.

Landing roughly in The Overgrown, Jimmy dusts off his pants before walking inside Katherine’s meeting hall. Katherine smiles brightly at him, and Lizzie sits with Pearl, laughing.

“Early again, Codfather?” Katherine teases, and Lizzie turns her head.

“I honestly thought I was late, Lizzie told me you changed the time?”

“Lizzie!” Katherine gasps, scandalised. “Why would you do that?”

“I remember growing up with him, it would take centuries to get him out of bed.” Lizzie smiles lightly, and Jimmy’s thankful for his mask, hiding the flush of his face.

“And it took longer to get you away from your window when Joel was pegging rocks at it.” Jimmy says lightly.

“Sleep well, Codfather?” Pearl asks, weaving herself a new sunflower crown.

“I could fall asleep for a while, but afterwards it was fine.” Jimmy lies easily, and Lizzie glares at him suspiciously.

“Oh! Any dreams?” Katherine asks. “We could try and work out if you’re an oracle.”

“Nothing important, just a dance in a flower field.” Jimmy pointedly ignores Lizzie as the other rulers slowly walk into the hall.

LDShadowLady whispers to you: Why didn’t you tell me? You whisper to LDShadowLady: Didn’t want to wake you, it wasn’t a nightmare anyways. LDShadowLady whispers to you: You promised me that you would. You whisper to LDShadowLady: I’m going to talk to Gem about it. I’m sick of being tired all the time LDShadowLady whispers to you: Thank goodness. I don’t want to have to worry about you anymore. You whisper to LDShadowLady: You won't anymore, I promise.

“Great, now that everyone’s here, let's start the meeting!” Katherine says. “Does anyone have any news to share?”

“Did you really call a meeting without any news to share?” Shubble asks, standing on her chair in order to see over the table. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, its just that we’ve all got empires to run and we’re kind of busy-”

“No, I do have news. I just wanted to open discussion to the table. If anyone else has anything to say.” Katherine smiles, and Jimmy watches Sausage and Fwip from the corner of his eyes. They seem off, smiling to themselves as though they have something to say, though their mouths are firmly closed.

“Well, Rivendell’s alchemists are working on a way to reverse the corruption,” Scott says, and Jimmy looks at the elven king. He’s tall, with soft blue hair and sapphire blue eyes and Jimmy has to tear his eyes away before he’s drowning in them. “If you all would allow it, I would like to send my alchemists to your kingdoms to observe and take samples of the corruption.”

“That sounds wonderful, I’d like to take you up on that offer.” Jimmy surprises the whole room, including himself, as he accepts Scott’s proposal. The aid will be necessary in order to protect his kingdom, and Joel did say that Scott might want to be allies.

He should find Scott after the meeting.

“I will also take you up on that offer.” Katherine agrees, giving Fwip and Sausage a warning look. “Is there any other topic to be brought up?”

“I don’t believe so.” Fwip says, and Jimmy winces under his mask. The steady voice, even and unsettling. Jimmy’s overthinking.

An even voice, carefully calculating, offering them an alliance, knowing full well that his husband will end up on the altar, to be sacrificed. Burning the banner, loosing his love before dying himself-

“-A ball, in honour of House Blossom’s continued strong alliances!” Katherine’s words shake Jimmy out of him stupor. “I would like to invite some of you to help in the building of a public hall so that we can all attend in luxury.”

“I can help.” Pearl agrees immediately.

“I’d love to help as well.” Gem agrees. “The Crystal Cliffs can offer some amethyst for the roof!”

“I’ll follow your instructions, if you’ll have me.” Jimmy offers with a polite smile, not believing that Katherine will take him up on the offer.

“Oh Jimmy, that’ll be such a great help!” Katherine accepts his offer, pointedly ignoring Fwip’s snort with a large smile.

Oh no, Jimmy smiles. “No problem, Katherine. Anything for an ally.”

This was a horrid idea.

“Is there anything else we need to discuss?” Sausage asks. “My advisors are getting cross at my absence.”

“No, nothing.” Katherine says. “You’re all free to go.”

“Oh!” Jimmy says, as people begin to leave. “Gem, could I ask you a question?”

“Of course,” The wizard says, walking besides him as they head out of the meeting hall, “What can I help you with?”

“I was wondering what dreams mean?” Jimmy says.

“I’m sorry?”

And Jimmy spills. He tells her everything, the recurring nightmares, the screaming, the glowing, the shadow husband and the war and the dying in a way thats permanent, the green-yellow-red lives.

“I had one last night. But it was different this time. It wasn’t a nightmare, but it was the same place. Like something that happened only a few days before.” Jimmy says, wringing his hands.

“Oh my.” Gem says, concern lacing her expression. “I haven’t really experienced anything like this before, I’ll have to research it for you. Tell me if you have one again.”

“You sound like Lizzie.” Jimmy jokes. “But I will. Let me know what you discover?”

“Of course, it’s your health.” Gem says. “I have to get going, but I hope you sleep well tonight.”

“Thanks Gem.” Jimmy waves to her before she flies away.

He needs to get home, and pen a letter to Scott about their alliance.

----

Lizzie and Joel laugh as they sit in Joel’s dinning room, eating lunch and joking about snotty old advisors. The room is quiet, a cool breeze coming through the windows, high ceilings trapping the hot air above them, making the palace livable.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you, your highnesses,” a soldier says, her voice slightly panicked. “But the King of Rivendell is here to speak with you both.”

Lizzie and Joel exchange nervous looks. She knows that Scott is allied with Sausage and Fwip, is this a declaration of war? Or perhaps a warning, since those two always were cowards? But he seems to be courting Jimmy, could it be an ask to marry her brother? After only a day?

Lizzie, admittedly, doesn’t know much about life on land, much less about elven culture.

“Of course, we’ll see him in the parlor.” Joel says, standing slowly. The young guard nods, rushing out of the room with an air of panic to her steps. “Are you alright, love?”

“If he’s here for war-”

“He wouldn’t be. You saw how he looked at Jimmy during Katherine’s meeting.” Joel says. “He’s probably just going to ask to court him.”

“That’s worse. You understand how thats worse, right?”

“Why is it worse?”

“Because Scott is allied with our enemies, with Jimmy’s enemies.”

“It's not official.” Joel reminder her quietly. “Rivendell remains firmly neutral in all conflicts, allying itself with only those closest for trade, Lizzie. Not for aid in war.”

“But-”

“Let’s hear him out.” Joel says. “And in the end, it’s Jimmy's decision.”

“Okay, fair enough.” Lizzie grumbles, playfully hitting her husband.

“Abuse! Abuse! Oh, how the love of my life wounds me.” Joel dramatisies as they walk to the parlor.

They enter the room, watching as Scott stops nervously pacing. His wings twitch and puff out, which confuses Lizzie to no end. He looks either aggressive or scared - she could never tell the difference, since seagulls are only arrogant.

“Hello, your highnesses.” Scott bows.

“King Scott.” Lizzie says, bowing back to the man.

“Why do we earn the pleasure of having you here?” Joel asks, sitting down at a soft recliner, the one that Lizzie claims normally - how dare he?

“I would like to court Jimmy.” Scott says, as though he were announcing the end of the world. “And I have come to seek Lizzie’s permission specifically, as his elder sister.”

Joel and Lizzie exchange a look, both wearing the same ‘I told you so’ expression. However, this only seems to make Scott more nervous. He’ll need to adapt to their silent conversations if he wants to court Jimmy, Lizzie thinks quietly.

“I’m an excellent builder, having completely rebuilt Rivendell. My people can attest that I am both a wise and kind ruler, and I can provide Jimmy and the cod empire with years of prosperity.” Scott rambles, tugging nervously at his cape. “I’ll aid him in wars, and I’ll never raise a hand against him, no matter the circumstances.”

“Is this what you felt like when you asked my parents to court me?” Lizzie mumbles to Joel, and Scott continues on.

“Honestly, asking Jimmy was harder.” Joel replies. “He interrogated me when I asked him if I could marry you.”

“All bark, no bite my brother is.” Lizzie rolls her eyes. “Scott, how long have you been seeing Jimmy for?”

“I beg your pardon?” Scott says, blinking feverishly.

“How long have you and Jimmy been dating?” Lizzie asks again. “I’m not going to be mad.”

“We haven’t seen each other..” Scott says. “That’s immoral, I couldn’t ask him out without your permission.”

“Is that an elf thing?” Lizzie asks Joel, semi loudly. “Or a land thing?”

“I believe it’s an elven culture.” Joel says, “Correct, Scott?”

“How do your people court?” Scott asks, eyebrows frowning ever so slightly.

“Well,” Lizzie begins, “We see each other for a while, then ask the others family to begin courting. Most civilians date for a few months, then begin courting, but us royals have to take it slowly.”

“Oh.” Scott winces.

“How do elves court?” Lizzie asks, cocking her head to the side.

“We ask a potential suitor’s family if we could begin courting, and then we court for a few months before we begin dating properly.” Scott says slowly.

“Well, I have a few questions for you.” Lizzie says. “Before I can pass judgement on your potential relationship!”

“Lizzie, be nice.” Joel warns, before turning to a book he had left on the coffee table.

“I will, now, does Jimmy know that you like him?”

“No, thats why we court for a few months first.” Scott says. “To prove to our potential suitor that we are worthy of spending the rest of our life with them.”

“Interesting.” Lizzie nods, frowning at the window. “And you promise to stop if you make him uncomfortable?”

“The second he tells me to, I will stop all advances.” Scott promises.

“And you swear that you will never lay a hand on him?” Lizzie asks.

“I swear it.” Scott says. “I swear it on Aoer.”

“Final question.” Lizzie smiles at Scott. “Why do you like Jimmy?”

“He’s like the sun.” Scott says. “It’s like the world is in an eternal night without him around, even when he’s fighting my allies and he believes that I’m going to join them. Just standing near him is like seeing a sunset for the first time.”

“Damn, you have it bad for him.” Joel says, ignoring Lizzie as she slaps his arm. “Darling, I think you have to let him try his luck with Jimmy.”

“You are unreasonably in love with Jimmy.” Lizzie says, smiling softly. “You should court him, Scott. Don’t you dare hurt him, but may I be honest with you?”

“Thank you,” Scott gasps, flushed red with slight embarrassment. “And sure, what would you like to tell me?”

“I think you aren’t physically able to hurt Jimmy.” Lizzie says. “I think you’re too in love to even look him in the eye. Good luck, land boy.”

And Scott leaves the room, Joel openly laughing as he hears Scott whoop for joy as he flies off. It’s a lovely day, and the married couple can’t help but think that they secured Jimmy someone who would go to war for him. Perfect husband material.

They don’t notice the red eyes watching from the servants corridors. Why would they? Lizzie’s allowed Scott to try and win Jimmy’s heart.

#imd(wyrm)#in my dreams (will you remember me)#empires smp #empires jimmy #empires scott #empires smp fic

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highfaelucien · 3 years

Note

for elucien: maybe some soft content of lucien and elain cooking together

send me ship fic prompts!

Elain looked up as she heard a small tap at the door of the kitchen. She glanced towards Nuala and Cerridwen, both of whom remained relaxed, though she couldn't think who would be knocking.

Anyone who typically stayed here, Feyre and Rhys and their Inner Circle, none of them would have knocked. They would just have barged in, on a varying spectrum of politeness.

Azriel was at one end, and Cassian was on the other, which felt an appropriate way of measuring the two brothers' personalities.

"Come in!" she called, looking up from her flour dusted work table.

A golden glimmer caught her eye as one mechanical eye and one of glimmering red peered owlishly around the doorway.

"Lady Elain," he said with that courtly grace, giving her as refined a bow as any she'd ever seen, "Your sister told me that I could find you here. May I approach?"

"Oh," Elain said, a little flustered, feeling her cheeks go warm for reasons entirely unrelated to the heating oven behind her, "Oh, yes, of course, my lord-" she catches herself, remembering that he's not a lord, she corrects, "Lucien."

He inclined his head slightly and approached, carrying a small wicker basket in front of him, which he set gently on the worktop in front of her.

"Your sister told me that you liked to bake down her most days," he said, watching her almost warily, as though he expected her to snap at him for merely being here, "So I brought you a gift."

"A gift?" she repeated, blinking down at the basket.

"It won't bite," he said, with a small smile, "You can open it."

Tentatively, she slid the lid open and peered inside. At once, a tart, wonderful smell of fresh, crisp apples, unlike any she'd ever experienced, emerged from the basket.

She gave a little squeal of delight and took one from the basket, holding it in her hand. It was larger than any she'd ever seen, gleaming as brightly red as a forge. And the smell, even unpeeled, she had never smelled anything so mouthwatering or delicious.

Lucien smiled a little at her reaction to them and answered the question that had been dancing on the tip of her tongue, "They're from the Autumn Court."

There was a flicker in his eyes he couldn't quite read, a sadness, deep and haunted. And she felt it. She felt it, a deep pang in her own chest, twin and echo to what she saw in him. She wasn't sure if he was aware of that, as he kept talking, hands clasped behind his back, bouncing slightly on his toes.

"My mother sent it to me," he told her, and there was a tightness to his voice. She knew little of the other courts, but she had heard Lucien's mother lived a sad existence trapped with his father. "She told me, she told me to offer it to you, so that you would know that Autumn has more to it than the violence and brutality seen from outside."

He laid a gentle hand on the basket's lid, one slim finger tracing another of the apples. They had a meaning to him. A connection to his old court, his old home, the mother he had not seen in so long.

"I thought, perhaps, you could use them in your baking," he said, straightening up and taking a breath, composing himself, "They are best enjoyed when they are cooked."

"They smell even better than this?" Elain blurted, eyes widening.

Lucien huffed a soft laugh, and it felt, oddly, like a victory, "They do indeed. They are made for roasting, for bonfires, and mead. I think they will be an excellent treat for those upstairs. And for you."

She smiled at him, "Thank you," she said, giving him a polite little curtsy, "This is very thoughtful," she gestured towards Nuala and Cerridwen, the two wraiths watching silently but, she knew, listening to every word, "We were actually about to make a pie. I think now it shall be an apple pie."

He smiled at that, then gave her another bow and made to leave. Something about the way he turned, the way his touch had lingered upon the apples, the smell of him, of Autumn, that lingered, the sadness in his eyes, the sadness in her chest, has her calling out to him.

"Perhaps you could stay?"

Nuala and Cerridwen glanced up, but kept their thoughts to themselves, as always.

Lucien turned slowly, seeming a little startled, and looked at her with raised eyebrows, "That's not necessary," he said carefully, "Please, don't feel obliged."

"I don't," she told him firmly, trying to be more assertive, "I think it would be nice to have a practiced hand to show me precisely how to, to slice and spice these apples. So that they taste their best."

He hesitated just a moment, then he gave her a smile and tied his long red hair up into a loose bun on top of his head, securing it with a leather band around his wrist.

"I can certainly do that," he told her, with a soft smile, "I've roasted more of these in my lifetime than I'd care to count."

She gave him a little smile, then turned to Nuala and Cerridwen and said, trying, and failing, to control her blush, "The kitchen may be a little crowded with four of us. I think I can manage, with Lucien's help. Perhaps you could attend to your other duties? I know you're both very busy."

It was painfully transparent, but neither of her friends made any mention of that. They just gave her and Lucien little bows, then vanished through the wall.

Lucien gave an exaggerated shiver at the sight, "Does that ever get unnerving?" he asked Elain, squinting down at her.

She giggled, "I suppose it was at first," she admitted, "I've gotten used to them. Mostly. But I still get a fright if I turn around and they're standing inside the table. I thought perhaps it was just a holdover from my being human."

"No," Lucien said wryly, "That's definitely not a human thing. Standing in tables is downright unsettling."

Elain smiled again, then added, "They've been good friends to me, despite their blatant abuse of furniture. And they're very good bakers."

"That I can attest to as well," Lucien said, washing his hands at the sink, "Their pastries are deliciously light."

She couldn't help noting, out of the corner of her eye, as he rolled up his sleeves, that his arms were corded with muscle, and well toned.

He didn't have the bulk of Cassian, or even Azriel, who was less of a 'beefcake', to use Mor's word, than his brother, but still broad-chested and muscular. He was more delicately crafted, and she bit her lip as her brain very firmly did not object to that one bit.

Lucien didn't seem to notice her ogling. Or if he did, he was polite enough to pretend that he didn't, for which she was grateful.

"Why don't we prepare the apples together?" she suggested, "The pie crust is nearly ready, after all, and there are quite a few of them. I can peel if you don't mind chopping?"

"I am at your service, my lady," Lucien replied, giving her another sweeping bow, "Your kitchen, your authority."

"I don't think anyone has ever given me authority before," she mumbled, before she could stop herself, picking up one of the apples and starting to peel it with a sharp knife.

Lucien took out a cutting board and set it down beside her, fishing a knife from the nearby block.

He smiled as he waited for her to finish with her apple. As she handed it to him, he said, "If you were given authority, over a whole court, let's say, what would it be? A court of pastries and cream? Or perhaps roses and violets?"

She considered, humming, then said bluntly, "Well, it would certainly have a lot more sunlight than there is here."

Lucien laughed, even as she blushed.

"Oh dear," she said, feeling even the newly pointed tips of her ears growing hot, "That sounded rather rude and ungrateful, didn't it?"

"Actually," Lucien said, leaning in conspiratorially, so she once again caught his scent, and trembled with it, "It was quite refreshing. I know that Rhys has an aesthetic to maintain, the dark and broody git, and there's a definite beauty to all of this," he waved his knife around airily, "But it does get a bit depressing day after day."

Elain gave a little squeaky at the mention of Rhys being a 'dark and broody git' but otherwise smiled at Lucien's assessment.

"No-one else seems to have a problem with it," she said, watching as Lucien efficiently cored and sliced the apples she passed him.

He was clearly practiced in the kitchen, which surprised her. She'd been told he was a High Lord's son, a prince - she wasn't sure why they were called princes when their father's were lords, but hadn't questioned it - she hadn't expected culinary training to be in his skillset.

"In fact they all seem to like it, even," she said, with a little sigh, "I miss summers in the mortal lands. Everyone keeps telling me I should stop thinking about it. That my life is here now, but..."

"But it was your home for most of your life," Lucien said quietly, "And that is difficult to forget, or fully escape from, no matter how long you're gone from it."

She nodded, and watched him examine the apple in his hand, that sad longing back on his face.

"Do you miss your home, too?" she asked quietly.

He glanced at her, weighing her, apparently judging how to answer, sincere, or sarcastic. To her surprise, he chose sincerity.

"I do," he said quietly, "Both of them." He sighed very deeply, "I have bad memories connected to both Spring and Autumn. Terrible memories, if truth be told, but..."

"But there are good memories, too," Elain said quietly, finishing the thought, "And other people seem to forget those. Maybe that's why it's been so easy for them to move on with their new lives."

Lucien peered down at her, holding her gaze for a long time, then he nodded.

"When I was given quarters in Tamlin's manor," he said, turning that burning gaze away from her to confront the apples again, "I chose to decorate the space as my rooms had looked at Autumn. Dark wood pannelling, oranges, and reds, and yellows, the colours of the bonfires and falling leaves. Tamlin and the others couldn't understand it. They had thought I would want to erase every memory of that court, after what had happened to me there."

Elain didn't press him to go into details about what precisely that had been. She had overheard snippets and gossip, but she had never gotten the full story. Now did not feel like the time for it.

"They didn't understand," he said, shaking his head, "I left Autumn, left it gladly. But a part of my heart still belonged there. A part of my heart will always belong there. Just as another part will always belong to Spring. My mother was of Autumn. There was a fire in my blood that called to that court. the festivals, and bonfires. The plants, and the people. The scents, and the food, and the beauty of it.

"I still remembered those things fondly. I didn't want to let myself forget. I didn't want to become the kind of person who consisted only of scars, and sadness, defined only by the terrible things that have happened to them."

He huffed a soft laugh and had to stop himself dragging his long fingers through his hair while he was around food.

"I apologise, lady," I came here to deliver you some apples, not wax lyrical on my philosophy of life," he said, inclining his head towards her.

But she laid a gentle hand on his arm and said, "No, I like to hear it. It...It's good to hear, honestly. I don't like to forget the good times, either. Nesta and Feyre, they fit in so well here, and have taken so well to being fae, on the whole. I know that whenever anyone mentions our past in the human world, they think of that cottage. They think of freezing winters, and near starvation. Of abandonment, and rejection, and sadness. So I don't blame them for finding that easy to leave behind."

"What about you, Elain?" Lucien asked, very quietly, "What do you think of?"

Elain closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath, feeling a soft smile touch her lips, "I think of the cottage too," she admitted, "But I remember the way we all clustered around the fire under a big blanket, all of us.

"I remember my little windowbox, and the wild flowers I grew. I tried vegetables, but the seeds were too expensive, and the soil quality was too poor and shallow in my little box. But the flowers made me smile. They brought some colour to our dull, cold world when we needed it most.

"I remember Feyre's painting. And father's carvings. And the stories Nesta wrote and hid from us, but I still found them.

"I remember riding horses with mother when I was little. And pretty dresses that made me feel like a princess.

"I remember singing, and laughing, and living with my family. And sometimes, sometimes I feel mad for focusing on those little things, when everything else was so awful. I feel silly, and childish, and like I should think of things how they were."

"You are," Lucien said quietly, and she opened her eyes, finding him watching her with something close to awe on his face, "All of those things were real. They happened. They are true memories. I, I don't think it is childish to focus on the small things that brought you joy when the world was bleak and full of misery and pain. I think that makes you strong, and wonderful. In a world of harsh, jagged stones, and concrete walls, you find the beauty of the wildflowers growing up between the cracks. That, that is a very special, and noble way to live, I think."

"You see them too, don't you?" she said softly, "The flowers in the windowbox, and fighting to grow between the cracked stones. It's how you've survived after everything that's happened."

Lucien swallowed tightly, but nodded, "I try to," he replied, a little hoasely, "It's not always easy but...I try."

Elain nodded, "Me too," she murmured.

There was a long, intense silence, like a string being pulled taut between them. She felt herself leaning into it, both excited and afraid. Then Lucien cleared his throat and looked away.

She felt the relief, as the tension broke, but also a little disappointment, unable to discover where it might have pulled her to.

Taking a deep breath, Lucien said, too loudly, "Look at all these apples."

"Oh!" Elain exclaimed, only just taking note of the small mountain of slices between them, "Oh, yes."

"Come on," Lucien said, giving her a grin, clearly trying to put her at ease after that charged moment they had shared, "This is the best part."

It took him a moment, opening several cupboards, cursing under his breath when he caused a small avalanche of poorly stacked pots to come tumbling out of one, but he finally straightened up with a large mixing bowl held triumphantly in his hands.

He scooped all of the apple slices into it, then began raiding the spice rack. She lost track of all of the different things he tossed into the bowl. He gave it a final sniff, then nodded, satisfied.

"Alright, get stuck in," he said, nodding to her with a glint in his eyes.

She raised an eyebrow and he stuck his hands into the bowl with almost indecent enthusiasm, mixing the spices with the fruit slices.

Smiling, she stepped up shyly and put her hands into the bowl with him.

They stayed quiet as they mixed, but occasionally their eyes met, and, even more intensely, their hands.

Finally, Lucien deemed it ready, and they began lining the apple slices at the bottom of the pie tin. He showed her how to weave a traditional Autumn lattice on the top, and even how to make some leaf patterns from the leftover pastry.

While it baked, Elain soaked in the scents of it cooking. Lucien was right, it was so much better than it was originally. As it went on, she noted Lucien was starting to shift a little uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

"What is it?" Elain asked, biting her lip, "Is my pastry not good enough to contain your magnificent Autumn apples?"

He glanced to her, mechanical eye whirring softly, and did not bite at her attempt at humour. He swallowed and said, "I don't think I should partake in this particular pie, Elain."

She frowned slightly, "Why not?" she asked, confused.

"It's, it's mainly a symbolic gesture, but I wouldn't want to take any chances. When, when a woman," she noted his use of the word 'woman' instead of 'female' with a jolt of pleased surprise, "Offers her mate food, and they accept, it generally seals their bond."

"Oh," Elain said, flushing as darkly as his hair.

"I'm not saying that if I eat this it will bind us togeher forever, with no choice, and no backing out but- To be honest with you, I have no idea what it will do, and I wouldn't want to take that risk."

"No," Elain said, perhaps a little too quickly, given the flash of quickly smothered pain in Lucien's face. "I mean, I'd like to take a little more time with things, if we could."

"We're immortal," Lucien said, with a small smile, "We can take all the time there is," he glanced at the large clock on the wall and added, "And speaking of time, I realise I'm almost late for my meeting with Azriel. He gets very grumpy when his guests aren't as punctual as he is."

"Azriel is always very punctual," Elain said, a little lamely, not quite sure what else to say.

"So I shall take my leave, lady," Lucien said, with another bow.

The formality felt...A little strange between them now, and she wasn't sure what she thought about that. She still didn't really know this man at all, and yet, what they had shared...

"Please tell me if you like the apples," he said, with a small smile.

"I will," she said, giving him a little curtsy in turn, "And please, give your mother my thanks."

"I will," he said, but there was a sadness in his eyes that told her he wasn't sure when he'd next get the chance to do that. If he ever did.

He turned to go, and she again found herself starting forwards, halting him once more, "Lucien," she said, and he glanced back towards her, "If, if you ever find yourself with any more fruits for baking. Or, or just the next time you're here, if you wanted to help me bake again I, I think I'd like that."

The smile Lucien gave her in answer was nothing short of a beam, something she had never seen from him before. It made him look younger, his eyes brighter, and softer.

He inclined his head to her in gratitude, then winnowed into nothing, leaving behind the faint scent of cinnamon and campfires, the perfect complement to their baking pie.

***

Thank you for the prompt! I hope you enjoyed!! (I got carried away and I'm SORRY).

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amiedala · 3 years

Text

SOMETHING MORE (the mandalorian x reader)

CHAPTER 29: We Don’t Scare Easy

RATING: Explicit (18+ ONLY!!!)

WARNINGS: sexual content & descriptions of violence

SUMMARY: There’s a war coming,” he continues, and you feel the heaviness of his confirmation, “and I think the only way we’re going to win any part of it is if we work together.”

You smile down at him, strangely emotional. “I thought you liked doing things alone, Mandalorian,” you manage, voice high and breathy.

Din’s eyes flutter from your own and your lips, and you inhale sharply as he stares at you like he’s about to devour you. “Not anymore,” he answers, finally. “You’re proof that it’s so much better to be part of a team.”

AUTHOR'S NOTE: HELLO MY LOVES HAPPY SOMETHING MORE SATURDAY!!!! this chapter is quite the whirlwind, i hope you love it! more notes at the end as always <3

Bo-Katan steps forward again. You narrow your eyes, straightening up as high as you can to try and match her intimidating, perfect posture. Her gaze locks on the Darksaber, once, twice, then she squares her shoulder, staring at Din. Even though the helmet, you can tell he’s staring at her right back. “We have a problem,” she says, lowly.

“Who’s we?” Din asks, voice cool and level.

For the first time, she looks over at you, not the Darksaber, not trying to size you up. You raise an eyebrow. “I said I’m not here for that,” she continues, pointing a slender finger at the weapon hanging from your grasp, “and I meant it. As much as I hate it,” she sighs, crossing her arms, “you won it in battle, Mandalorian. And it’s not really in my best interest to try and take Mandalore for myself again.”

Something about the way she says it makes your stomach flip over. You don’t know what she’s done in the past, you can barely string two events in the history of Mandalore together, but the way she insinuates another plot to take the throne puts you on edge.

“Then what do you want?” Din asks. His voice, through the modulator, is so even. There’s a sharpness to it that you don’t entirely understand. You glance over at Cara, her arms bulging from where they’re crossed against her chest. She shakes her head, almost entirely imperceptibly, and you inhale sharply, looking back at Bo-Katan like she’s a venomous predator, ready to strike the second you show her any weakness.

“You gave me Gideon,” Bo-Katan continues. “I took him back to Mandalore. We have facilities. Prisons. Holding cells. But I can’t get anything concrete out of him, and there’s something dark behind his eyes whenever we question him. Smug. And…” she sighs, “I would have no quarrel with killing him, but he seems to still be a part of something bigger.” On this last sentence, her gaze shifts over to you, and you swallow, feeling your heart flip over in your chest.

Din regards her. “What’s your point?”

“Well,” Bo-Katan says, looking back at Din. You can feel the way she’s steeling herself, pressing her lips down in a thin line like she’s driving a bargain she doesn’t think is fair. “My point is that I know Gideon’s the tip of the iceberg. And I know all you’ve wanted for months is to see him dead. I’m saying that if you come back to Mandalore with me and figure out what he’s planning…” she trails off, looking own to the blue armor of her boots, “then I’ll turn both him and Mandalore over to you. For real.”

You badly disguise a gasp. Din looks over to you, then the visor slides back to Bo-Katan. You’ve become an expert in reading his body language, knowing what he’s thinking from his movements alone. But right now, you feel entirely and completely out of your depth. You can’t get a read on him.

“If you’re looking to double-cross me,” Din finally says, voice icy, “then just fight me right here and win the saber back. If you want Mandalore, you can have it.”

“You’re telling me,” Bo-Katan starts, and you can hear the anger in her tone, “that you seriously don’t want the throne?

Din looks back at her. “Look at your helmet in your hands.” She does. “You can take yours off. You have no—no issue with showing your face. From what it sounds like, you know how to be a leader. I don’t have to understand, or like what you’re doing. I—” he cuts off, just for a second, and then he regains his vigor, “I don’t want to put more of a target on my back. I’m tired. There’s something darker out there that we’re only just now seeing. I’ll question Gideon,” he continues, “but if I do, then you take the Darksaber. You rule Mandalore. I’ll be too preoccupied helping my fiancé and the rest of the Rebel Alliance wipe Gideon and the evil he’s hiding off the face of the galaxy.”

Bo Katan’s eyes narrow. Your heart sings a tune of pride in your chest, fiercely and brazen. “That’s not how it works.”

“It is now,” you finally say, lifting your chin. “There’s something out there. Something that wants all of us to either become pawns for their evil cause or for us to die and stay dead. You want Mandalore to be taken care of?” you ask, stepping forward. Bo-Katan’s still guarded, but she nods, just slightly. “Then take care of it. We have to make sure that the rest of the galaxy survives, not just one planet.”

Bo-Katan stares at you, then at the Darksaber, then to the new Alliance symbol hanging from your throat. You bite down, hard, and you pull your hair to the side. In your palm, the Darksaber vibrates, and, immediately, her eyes refocus on the weapon. You wince, realizing you’re holding it there with the Force alone, your grip empty. “You can use the Force,” she says. Her voice sounds poisonous, and your heart starts thumping again, but then you remember that she’s the one who led you to Ahsoka, so she doesn’t seem to have any particular distaste for Jedi, even though you know most of the galaxy does.

“Do you know anything about the Order?” you ask. Beside you, Din sighs, thick and heavy, and you realize that asking someone who may not entirely be an ally about a mysterious collection of people trying to use you as a weapon might not be a good idea.

But in Bo-Katan’s face is a flicker of recognition. She swallows. “Come interrogate Gideon,” she says, finally. All the fire that was there a minute ago seems to drain out of her backward, and Din steps forward, just an inch, but you know he feels it too. “Figure out what he wants. Then, if you’re so adamant about not being Mand’alor, we can fight over the Darksaber. But you’re not allowed to go easy on me,” she continues, stabbing a finger at Din midair. “For me to retake the throne, it needs to be a real fight. Understood?”

Din nods, sharply and intently. “Don’t worry,” he says, and because you know him so well, you can tell that there’s a small smirk etched across his face under the helmet, “going easy isn’t really in my job description.”

There seems to be something ceremonial about boarding Kicker. The two of you are going to follow Bo-Katan to Mandalore. If needed, Cara will follow the both of you, but the rest are starting on their own missions, to try and track down any more information about this mysterious Order so that when you regroup, Wedge and the Alliance included, you have a fighting chance. Parting ways, though, seems to come after making sure you get back to Kicker safely, a small ensemble of bounty hunters and experienced fighters flanking both you and Din as you make the trek back to the ship. Everyone says their goodbyes as Bo-Katan boards her own ship. It’s sleek and newer than Kicker by far, but there’s an emptiness to it. You sigh, slinging yourself down in the cockpit, flipping all the necessary switches and preparing for takeoff.

“What exactly should we be expecting?” you ask, finally, breaking the silence. You’re jittery, chilled from something much stronger than the Nevarro night. That keyed-up, wired, electric current running through you matches the same one back on Khubeaie, after the strange, blaring messages, after thinking you saw Luke Skywalker. It’s unsettling.

Din sighs from behind you, low and heavy. You startle, just a little, because you weren’t expecting him to have moved, but his gloved hands find your shoulders, and you sigh happily as his fingers start pressing a familiar pattern into the sore muscles, coaxing them to release. “I don’t know,” he answers you, and you can tell he’s being genuine. “I can’t shake the feeling that we’re walking into a trap, but Bo-Katan also helped me try to get the kid back. I don’t think she’s being entirely forthcoming, but I don’t think she’s trying to harm us, either.”

You nod, too preoccupied with the feeling of Din’s thumbs on either side of your neck to really care about whatever’s coming next. “I don’t think she’s going to hurt us,” you manage, voice much more blissed out than his is. “She’s—resentful. Angry. But I truly don’t think she actively means us any harm.”

Din’s quiet behind you, just moving his expert fingers up and down your shoulders, digging into the tension. You watch as Bo-Katan’s ship powers up, eyes squinted to try and see where she is in the cockpit. As she lifts off Nevarro’s molten surface, you power Kicker up and do the same, following closely behind in her stream as she jets towards the atmosphere.

“Whatever’s waiting for us on Mandalore,” he finally says, grimly, “I don’t think we’ll make enemies, but I also don’t think we’ll be met with that warm of a welcome.”

Despite everything, a small smile moves across your face. You punch the thrusters, eyes still locked on Bo-Katan’s ship. “Sounds about right on par,” you manage, “don’t you think?”

Din sighs again. You put Kicker on autopilot, slowly turning around your chair to look up at him. Even shrouded in the dark, even entirely armored, you can feel him underneath. What used to be so intimidating is barely anything anymore. It’s just Din, the man you love, standing over you. He tucks a loose lock of your hair behind your ear, and you smile up at him, leaning into his palm. “You really think I would be a good ruler?”

You blink at him, astounded. “Yes,” you enunciate. “I don’t…I don’t exactly understand what you’d be doing. But I’ve seen the way you lead, how you somehow bring people with huge differences together. I know you want to go back to before,” you say, softly, taking his other hand in yours, “but honestly, Din, I don’t think we can.” You swallow. “I think we’re meant for something more than bounty hunting and babysitting.”

He stares down at you, through the visor, and then his hand pulls out of yours so he can hook his fingers under the rim of the helmet and yank it off. You pull him in closer, staring at his tousled hair, his lips still pink from fucking back on Nevarro in that back alley. He looks guarded, unsure, but when you hold him, the tension seems to leave his eyes just a little. “I don’t want to do it,” he says, finally.

“That’s okay,” you interrupt gently, “if you don’t think it’ll be good for you—”

“No,” he says, suddenly, and you stop talking. “I don’t wantto do it. It seems like this giant responsibility that I’ve never been prepared for. But I would,” he continues, voice low and urgent, “I would, except that taking the throne means breaking my promises to you.”

You stare down at the ring on your left hand, then look up back to Din, who’s holding hesitancy in every tense muscle of his body. “What do you mean?” you ask, voice wavery.

“I mean,” he sighs, stroking his gloved thumb over your cheekbone, “that there’s Gideon to deal with, and we have so much work ahead of us with the Order, and we’re in danger wherever we go. This would be so high-profile. And, Nova,” he continues, and you swallow, “I’m not going to be the one to take you away from the Alliance. You deserve to be there, fighting. And I meant it when I said I’d follow you anywhere, and I don’t even want to be…” he trails off, lips contorting around the word Bo-Katan used earlier, “…Mand’alor. I want to stop the Order. I want to be with you. And I want our kid back.”

You stare at him. “Din—”

“I’ll let Bo-Katan take it,” he interrupts, his voice steadier, “and then we help the Alliance. And then,” he continues, stepping closer to you, between your splayed legs, “then, we find Luke Skywalker and get him to train you, too. We’ll give the Order everything we’ve got. When it’s safe, you and Grogu and I will be together again. For good.”

Your heart is hammering a staccato rhythm on the left side of your chest. You don’t know if this is what you want—him giving up everything to stay with you, in the same way he doesn’t want you giving up everything to stay with him—but the two of you have more pressing matters at hand. Bo-Katan’s ship ahead of you slows down, and you pick the controls back up in Kicker to move accordingly.

“We can’t have everything, Nova,” Din says, and you know he’s being logical, and even beyond that, you know he’s right. You both owe it to the Alliance—and the galaxy—to stop the Order, to wipe clean any Empire leftovers that you can find. It’s a battle you can feel is only beginning, not one that you’ll be able to tackle and finish within a few weeks’ time. More than anything, though, more than stopping the Order, more than figuring out your Force sensitivity and visions or even becoming a full-fledged Jedi, is for you and Din and Grogu to settle down someplace, at least for a little while, and soak in as much happiness and peace as you possibly can before yet another war inevitably rears its head.

You swallow, and as you follow Bo-Katan down into Mandalore, you turn to face him, forcing an edge of determination into your voice that you don’t know if you entirely believe. “Don’t be so sure,” you whisper, and even though you don’t really have a plan, something inside of you knows that there’s a way that you can have everything, even if it’s an uphill battle. Because what you said to Din, way back on Nevarro, back before your life really started, still stands true. You don’t scare easy. And you’re more than ready to fight back.

Mandalore is not at all what you expected. It’s clearly been through the ringer, down to hell, and back again, but the city you follow Bo-Katan to looks rebuilt, fortified. It used to be glorious. You can tell. There’s elements that remind you of Naboo—not its natural beauty, but its serenity. Even though you know that the Mandalorians born and raised here have been trained into warriors, there’s an odd, peaceful way about the planet that you weren’t expecting.

Especially not arriving with Bo-Katan. She walks strong and tall, and as you pass handfuls of people walking away from the building she’s leading you towards, they lift their hands in greeting. Whatever your own feelings are toward her aside, you can tell that she’s well-respected. Fierce, but loyal. Kind of like Din. Kind of like you. As she smiles back to people who grin at her, your eyes track the back of her head, finding a kindness there you didn’t see before.

Din’s quiet. It’s a keyed-up, anxious kind of silence. He doesn’t take his helmet off, and his back is rigid and taut. You glance your hand off of his, and he squeezes it once before he drops it back to your side. Immediately, you understand. He’s trying to be proactive in his defensiveness, so that if some sort of opposition descends out of nowhere, he can fight them off without having to think twice about it. You’re not quiet. You don’t say anything, but your breath is heavy in your throat, and your eyes roam over the outcroppings of buildings and peer down the narrow alleyways between them. It’s not as eerie as you were expecting, but there’s something sad and lonely here hidden under all the rebuilt infrastructure and architecture. Even if you didn’t know how violent Mandalore’s history was, you would bet your last few credits that you could figure it out just by the energy of this place.

Bo-Katan leads you up the steps of a large building. The whole way up, your focus shifts from being perspective of your surroundings. The strange, haunted feeling here reminds you of your screeching radio, of the visions of a Jedi back on Khubeaie, you and Din and Boba Fett all seeing Luke Skywalker. And then, you remember Wedge saying he heard from Luke, right before your commlink went haywire, and something dangerous and anxious leaps up in your stomach. You’re breathing a lot heavier than either of the Mandalorians around you are, and you try to regulate how much air you’re taking in, but you give up when the staircase keeps going. Large, shiny marble slabs of stone stack up on top of each other, and the pattern swims before your eyes the higher up you get.

Finally, you speak. “Where exactly are we going?” you manage. Your voice comes out all breathless. You wince as your aching legs carry you up the last few steps, your head lolling back to see the grandiose ceilings in the building.

“I told you I’d take you to Gideon,” Bo-Katan answers, voice clipped but much steadier that yours is. You scowl at her behind her back, looking at her streamlines, athletic figure. “I’m making good on my promise.”

“Shouldn’t we…” you trail off, glancing up at Din’s stoic, silent figure, “I don’t know, plan what we’re going to say? I don’t think we should go in there blind.”

“You’re not going in there,” Bo-Katan interjects, and you stare at her, coming to a full stop. You fold your arms over your chest. Sighing, she turns around to face you and Din where you’ve stopped in unison. “What? That wasn’t part of the deal.”

“It was implied,” you say coolly, staring at her. “Everyone in this galaxy associated with that monster of a man is after me. Not D—Mando. Not you. Me. I think I deserve the chance to figure out who I’m up against.”

Bo-Katan’s gaze flicks from yours to the visor, her eyebrow raised as if to ask Din for permission. You track the way his helmet tilts over to you and back to her. Eventually, he sighs. “She’s right,” he confirms, lowly, stepping forward so that he’s equidistant between you and Bo-Katan. “Besides, she did a better job holding him off than either of us did before he took the kid.”

You press your lips together, trying to look as intimidating as Bo-Katan does. You fail spectacularly, but when her eyes find yours again, she gives you a short, curt nod. Silently, the three of you fall into line. It’s a maze in here, cool blue and grey interior seemingly going on and on for miles. You swallow as you keep watching, weaving deeper and deeper into the complex, until the greyness of everything fades off into anesthetic, stark white. You walk down multiple hallways with holding cells, all empty, their lights blinding and too bright. You squint. You’re exhausted, and even though you don’t want to admit it to the two people around you who grew up in a community where fighting—and winning—was just a simple sixth sense, you have no idea what to say. Gideon doesn’t scare you, anymore—you’ve gotten so much better at staving him and his slippery evil off—but something about talking to him, milking him dry for information, in a place that’s not your typical playing field—well, it makes you anxious. Your stomach worries with an entire menagerie of butterflies as you follow Din and Bo-Katan into the belly of the beast, trying to plot out an even line of questioning in your head.

The door to where Gideon’s being held comes up out of nowhere. It’s menacing, thick, intentionally indestructible. You swallow again as the three of you buzz into the facility, eyes worried on the door when it swings shut, trying to not internalize the heavy click that signifies you’re all stuck in here, too. Bo-Katan is the only one who holds the keys.

She stops short in front of you, and you have to skid to an abrupt halt to avoid colliding into Din’s beskar as he stops walking. Bo-Katan turns around, looking at both of you. “I want to remind you,” she says, and there’s something complicated in her voice, “that he’s restrained. He—we have a strict protocol when it comes to dangerous prisoners,” she continues, staring over at you. “It’s just what we do here. But you need to know that when I turn him over to you, he’s yours. Completely. To do whatever you want with him. But I get to question him first, and only when I’m finished can the two of you start.”

You nod, slowly. Din doesn’t move at all. “And after?”

Bo-Katan looks over at Din, who’s still standing perfectly still. “You really don’t want the throne?”

He’s quiet. You hear him sigh through the modulator, so small that you don’t think she recognizes it. “I don’t think,” Din starts, voice measured and even, “that Mandalore would accept me as their leader. And I have responsibilities outside of this planet.”

Bo-Katan’s eyes narrow. There’s still something strange behind her eyes that you can’t quite quantify. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

Din moved forward a half-step. “I’ll make it a fair fight,” he says, finally. “When we battle for the Darksaber. I won’t just give it to you. But you’re going to win, because this responsibility isn’t mine to bear. It’s yours, no matter what happened back on Gideon’s cruiser.”

Bo-Katan smiles, but it doesn’t fully meet her eyes. “You have no idea,” she says, finally, all the venom in her voice distant and faraway. “I question him first,” she reminds the both of you, and when she steps forward to rap on Gideon’s holding cell, all the nervousness that was fluttering around your body metabolizes in your diaphragm.

Gideon looks awful. He’s been stripped of his black robes, his cape that billow out like the personification of darkness. His hands are clasped in what looks like beskar handcuffs. There’s grey in his hair and the scruff on his chin, and he’s wearing pale blue scrubs that don’t do anything for his usually menacing exterior. When the three of you stand in a line in front of him, he looks up without a single glimmer of evil in his eyes. You swallow.

“How lovely of you,” he says, voice bracing and booming, “to come visit me.”

“You look great,” Bo-Katan spits at him, and even though the three of you have the upper hand, there’s something in Gideon’s face that starts glinting with that same wicked steel he used to hold. “Really taking to being in captivity well. What did you take that baby for?”

Gideon makes eye contact with Din. “He was important to me. Invaluable.”

“Important,” Bo-Katan says, evenly, stepping forward towards him, “right. Important why? Is Mandalore important, too?”

Gideon lifts both of his shackled hands, extends one long, menacing pointer finger in your direction. “She knows. Don’t you, Novalise?”

“Don’t say her name,” Din snaps, moving forward in a flash of beskar. You extend your hand as a barrier, and he stops behind it, even though you can feel him seething. “I should have killed you back there.”

“You should have,” Gideon agrees, with a sharp incline of his head. “Or you could have let me take her instead of the baby. Both would have been very useful. But the child served his purpose, already,” Gideon sighs, leaning back against the stark white bench he’s settled in on, “the girl has yet to serve hers.”

This makes the blood run white-hot through your veins. You clench your teeth together, narrowing your eyes.

“Why Mandalore?” Bo-Katan cuts in. “Why take the Darksaber? Why siege—”

“Why me?” you interject, stepping forward. You can feel Bo-Katan’s fiery glare on the side of your face, but you don’t dare take your eyes off of Gideon. “What value could I possibly bring to something that I hate so intensely?”

He smiles. It’s horrible. Even though he doesn’t show his teeth, you can still feel his venom lurking underneath. “You know the answer to that.”

“I’m not done—” Bo-Katan seethes, but you take another step, closer to Gideon. You can feel yourself shaking, and you clench your hands at your sides to not show him a single drop of fear.

“There’s not a thing in this galaxy you could do,” you say, inhaling sharply, staring down at the man in handcuffs in front of you, “that would make me join you. Ever. I’ll die before I let you take anything from me.”

Gideon smiles again, this time baring his teeth. “Oh, but you won’t,” he says, eyes roaming over you. You think you’re going to be sick. “You’re meant for great things. Far greater than being a Jedi. Far greater than being a silly little Rebel. The Empire didn’t die, girl. We only moved back into the shadows.”

You stare at him, shaking. “What’s the Order?” you ask. You want it to be direct, as sharp as Gideon is, but it comes out all wobbly. You cross your arms over your chest, trying to stand as menacingly as you can over Gideon, even though you know that even while he’s handcuffed, he could terrify an entire planet. You, for better or for worse, do not have that power. “What do they want with me?”

Gideon, for the first time, looks on edge. You track his eyes as they flutter; notice that his shoulders droop just a little under the weight of your question. Just as quickly, though, he recovers. Your heart is pounding a staccato rhythm of blood in your ears. “You think you’ve seen death and destruction?” he asks, and you hear Din sigh, angry and heavy, behind you. It startles you, and so does the sound of Bo-Katan’s boot on the floor. You were so preoccupied with Gideon, you forgot the both of them were there. You step back, towards the slight safety net of having two Mandalorians flank you, waiting for Gideon to continue. “You haven’t. We are going to rid the entire galaxy of opposition and build a bigger empire in its place. You will play quite the role. I’ve seen it,” he says, and even though the words terrify you, you catch a glimpse of a bluff.

“You don’t have the Force,” you retaliate, voice much more measured than you thought it would be. “There’s nothing special about your evilness. You haven’t seen a damn thing about what makes me up, but let me get one thing clear.” You squat down in front of him so you’re eye-level with his dark, malicious ones. “If the Order wants me, they’re going to have to catch me first. And even if they do catch me, I’ll die before they can corrupt a singular thing about me. I don’t know if you got the memo,” you continue, tilting your head to the left in the same way Din does when he’s bargaining, taking something in, “but I’m stronger than you. And however many members are in this Order, this new empire, know that each person resisting you and your tyranny is ten times the person that yours are.”

Gideon grimaces at you. You bare your teeth right back. “You have no idea what’s coming—”

“Tell me,” you interrupt him, jetting your chin up to match his menace, “or don’t. Either way, you’re going to rot in captivity, and your colleagues will be found. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but the Empire lost the last war we had. I don’t think they have the power to win another one.”

Gideon’s anger melts away as you stare at him. Finally, you push yourself back up to a standing position, ignoring the way it strains your tired, sore knees. Silently, you turn and nod at Bo-Katan, who steps forward and immediately starts interrogating Gideon like she was never interrupted at all. You tune out of most of it, trying to register and metabolize every single thing that Gideon just told you. Frustrated, you blow a chunk of loose hair out of your eyes. You’re no closer to figuring out who the Order is and what they want, and all you know is that the Empire—or whoever’s growing in their place—is going to try to exploit you, experiment on you, use your sensitivity and power for their bidding. You thought this was going to clear something up, or at the very least, give you a lead to go on to share with the team on Nevarro and the New Rogue Squadron, but you’ve got nothing. You clench your fist, wracking your brain, trying to find any hidden clue, anything you can steal and get the upper hand on. Tiredly, as Bo-Katan and Gideon go head-to-head, your own drifts off to the Alliance, to Wedge and the rest of the team scouring the galaxy for information. Wedge, who keeps saving you. Wedge, who brought you back into a team that you had given up on a lifetime ago. Wedge, who—

Wedge who heard from Luke Skywalker. You gasp, making eye contact with Din under the mask. You can feel his gaze on you, and you offer up a small, crazed smile, indicating that you have something. You spin to look back at Bo-Katan, whose tone is just as even and scary as Gideon’s is.

“Wait,” you say, loudly, stepping forward. Everyone stops, staring at you. “You,” you seethe, eyes locked on Gideon, “you tried to put a gun to your head back on the cruiser once you realized who was coming to save them.” You look back at Din for confirmation, which he gives you by way of his swift nod. “You would have accepted death over meeting Luke Skywalker. You’re a coward,” you say, evenly, looking down on him. “You have no plans. You have no next moves. You’re just as much of a pawn in the Order’s plans as I am.” You cock your head to the side, mind racing a million miles a second. “This is bigger than you are,” you finish, finally. “You aren’t in charge of the Order. You’re scared of them.”

“Everyone should be!” Gideon snaps back, violently. There’s hatred burning in his eyes. You can feel the intensity of it even from a few feet away, and you try your best to keep your face expressionless, steady. “If you don’t turn for them on their own, they’ll make you. All the powers in the world can’t stop them from taking control. And no one can stop them. Not you. Not your Mandalorians. Not me. They’ll keep coming for you,” Gideon rumbles, jumping forward so that his shackles rattle. You try not to jump, but you take a half step backwards, trying to escape the sound. “They’ll come for the child. And they’re going to win.”

Something inside you breaks. You stride forward again, glaring down at him. “Not a chance,” you hiss, voice low and angry. “They’ll have to get through me first.”

Gideon curls his lips at you. “The First Order will strike you down or use you for your powers,” Gideon says, evenly, and your eyes slide open a tiny bit as his admission. Until now, you’ve only heard of the threat as the Order, and the addition of the word first pings something intentional. “All Jedi will be exterminated or turned.” You bare your teeth back at him, trying to match his evil smile.

“Yeah?” you say, staring at him, heart doing backflips in your chest, “well, I highly doubt that. Because Luke Skywalker sends his regards.” On that, Gideon’s malicious face turns ashy and grey, and you turn on your heel, rapping on the door for the guard to get out of the holding cell. Bo-Katan calls your name sharply, but you keep moving. Behind you, you hear Din tell her she can keep questioning Gideon, and then you feel the weight of his footfalls down the hall, catching up to you.

“Nova—”

“I have to tell Wedge—”

“Nova, slow down—”

You sigh, turning around. “He gave us something in there,” you say, earnestly, looking up at your own reflection in Din’s visor. “The First Order. That’s something specific. That’s a name. I need to call Wedge, and Boba Fett, and tell them what to be on the lookout for. I don’t care how powerful they think they are,” you continue, as you step closer to Din. Your voice almost sounds like it’s pleading, but there’s something volatile and huge building up to a crescendo in your chest, “we’re just as strong, and we can fight back.”

Din stares at you. Even under the visor, you can feel his eyes on yours. “Okay,” he says, finally, “what’s our game plan?”

Your knees sag under you as gratitude and relief spreads through your body. You open your mouth, but then there’s a horrific scream from the holding cell, and immediately, Din turns around and sprints back there. You follow in his footsteps, slower but intentional, heart racing as you fly down the corridor to the holding cell. Somehow, Gideon has overpowered Bo-Katan, his chained wrists both anchored around her throat, tugging her body back with all of his might, trying to choke the life out of her. Immediately, Din runs toward them, but Gideon lands an exceptionally well-placed kick on the still-injured part of his leg, and Din stumbles back, winded. You panic in place, eyes fluttering back and forth between Gideon and Bo-Katan. His are evil, lit with a fire that you know he’s draining out of her. This is the most helpless you’ve ever seen her, this great Mandalorian warrior who could cut anyone down when they were standing. She stares at you, and it takes a half-second, but then the Darksaber is out of its holster on your belt, and the blade ignites, dark and electric. Gideon’s grip lessens, just for a moment, and you move to his side, positioning the humming, electrical current right at his left side, angling it so you can sink it deep into his chest without hurting Bo-Katan at all.

“You’d save her?” Gideon says. He looks like he could kill you with his gaze alone. “She wants to take this planet back from the two of you. She’s double-crossed you both before.”

“I’m not you,” you answer, simply, glancing at Bo-Katan, who looks like she’s seconds away from losing consciousness, and you level the Darksaber at Gideon’s neck instead. “I have something you don’t.”

He releases his grip. Din pulls Bo-Katan out from Gideon’s grasp, and, slowly, you point the blade at his Adam’s apple. Nothing in you is wavering. “What’s that,” Gideon spits at you, glowering. He’s unhinged. You offer him a smile, listening to where Bo-Katan is inhaling raggedy breaths in the corner. You feel Din step forward, and for a second, just for a fleeting moment, it’s you and your Mandalorian.

“Belief,” you say, simply, shrugging your shoulders, relaxing your grip on the saber. “Belief that there are far more people in this galaxy that will fight against evil rather than joining it. Belief that even if the Order does rise, it will inevitably fall the same way that the Empire did. I’m just a rebel girl,” you say, simply, “but I believe that when the First Order comes for me, they’ll be sent packing.” You hold his eye contact, just for a second, and then you straighten up. “I learned from the best. Luke Skywalker would call it hope.”

Gideon stares at you. You stare back. He doesn’t open his mouth, so you sheath the Darksaber, stepping back. There’s something that feels like a dove in your chest. You know this isn’t over. You know that this is just the beginning, that the battles you’ve been fighting all of your life are a precursor to the terror that the First Order could wreak on the galaxy. And you aren’t naïve enough to think that they won’t come after you or the people you love. But you know that you have everyone you need by your side, you know you’re going to marry the love of your life and be reunited with your kid, and you know that whatever the First Order holds, the Alliance has it tenfold. You turn on your heel, letting a small, genuine, tiny, fleeting smile slit across your face, revealed to no one except the heavy door of Gideon’s cell. This is how we win, you think, by fighting them with peace in mind.

But before you can get out of the door, you feel the Darksaber being seized from your belt. You whirl back around, horrorstruck, hands in the air to convey the Force to come forward, but it’s Bo-Katan. You lunge toward her, trying to stop her, but she isn’t trying to steal it out of your grasp. She moves forward, too swiftly for Din or you to stop her, and she ignites the blade, swings with intention, and plunges it through Gideon’s chest.

“What are you doing!” you scream, running towards her as that wicked light fades from Gideon’s eyes, “we could have kept him alive for bargaining—”

“No,” a voice rings out, and you spin around, distressed gaze landing on Din, who was the one who spoke. “No, we couldn’t have. If we took him out of here, Nova,” Din says, staring at Gideon’s freshly skewered body, “he would have escaped or hurt one of us.”

You stare at him. “Was this the plan all along?” you ask, voice wobbling. You look over to Bo-Katan, who’s still struggling to breathe, short red hair sticking out from her normally very neat bob. “Were you just going to kill him?”

“No,” Bo-Katan manages, “but he’s right.” She raises a pale finger to Din. “He gave us what we needed. The more of the members of the First Order are dead,” she says, pausing to wheeze, “the better chance we have of winning.”

You blink at her, shaking your head. You move away from both of them, closer to the open door. “Your sister tried to lead this planet with diplomacy and peace.”

A small smile snakes across Bo-Katan’s face, but you can see the sadness in her eyes. “I,” she sighs, moving towards you, “am not my sister.”

You watch, stunned, as her and Din make their way out the door, and you follow them, wordless, out of the maze of holding cells. The door to the cell Gideon’s being kept in buzzes to indicate when it’s swung closed, and you can’t shake the knowledge that he’s dead in there, that the evil you thought you were fighting for months is finished, but that darkness is nowhere near gone.

None of you have said a thing to each other when you resurface from the labyrinth of holding cells, or when Bo-Katan leads you down a new hallway. You’re drained, and you have no energy even to argue. Slowly, you trod after both of them, and the corridor opens up to a large arena. The seats aren’t filled, but you gape at how large this place is. It seems that the entire population of the planet could fit into this amphitheater alone. Finally, Bo-Katan stops, turning to face Din. “I broke my promise,” she says, finally, and there’s a weight to her voice you haven’t seen before. “I told you I would turn Gideon over to you, not that I would kill him. You have the saber,” she says, eyes glancing briefly off your figure, staring at where the Darksaber had hung from your belt, tossing it back across the air to Din, “it’s yours. I don’t have any grounds for dueling you. You’re the rightful leader of Mandalore.”

Din stares at her. Slowly, he shakes his head at Bo-Katan, taking a step forward. “Fight me for it.”

“I’m saying,” she sighs, and you can hear the exhaustion in her voice, “that I don’t have any reason to duel you. You’re the rightful owner of that thing now, not me. Take it.”

Din throws it across the arena to you. “Fight me for it.”

Bo-Katan looks over at you. You gape, looking back and forth between the two of them. “I can’t.”

“Bo-Katan of the clan Kryze,” Din calls, voice booming and commanding, “as the rightful Mand’alor, I order you to fight me for this Darksaber.”

Bo-Katan looks over at you. You shrug, tossing the saber back through the air to Din. “He ordered you. I don’t think you have a choice.”

“Stop enabling him,” she grumbles, but she steps forward, squares her shoulders, preparing for a fight. You move to the edge of the ring in this giant, stone colosseum, sending a plea to the Maker himself that one of them doesn’t kill the other. They’re strangely on the same side, even after all of that, but you’ve seen how these two Mandalorians interact, and usually, every battle ends with the opposition on the ground.

Bo-Katan lunges. Din sidesteps her, quick and easy. He lets her jab and swipe and punch at him, pull at his beskar, and he just swirls around like they’re in a strange, choreographed dance. He’s good. He’s the best you’ve ever seen, quick and intentional, not pulling a single punch. But Bo-Katan is good, too, and she’s fast and fights with a specific vigor that Din somehow doesn’t match. You hold your bated breath in the hollow of your mouth as you watch the two of them lunge and toss the saber around, trying to knock the other to the dust.

For someone who claimed she had no legal or official standing to become the ruler of Mandalore, Bo-Katan fights like she’s in charge. She’s an expert, and her training outshines even Din’s. Her eyes aren’t even blazing with adrenaline. She’s just fighting like excelling is an extension of her body, like this is what she’s born for. Half of Din’s blows don’t even land on her, and neither of them are speaking or grunting. If you didn’t know better, you’d think they weren’t even breathing, just inhaling and exhaling punches and kicks, like that alone could sustain them.

You lean back against the ring, staring at them. Your hair hangs heavy in the braid it’s fallen out of, and exhaustion starts to leech in from the corners of your eyes, punishment from the sleepless night you had. It seems impossible that hours ago, you were being proposed to again. All of this feels a lifetime away from your real one, the strange, nomadic family unit you had on the Crest with Din and the baby. And you let your heart yearn for Grogu, which you haven’t dared to feel in months. It hurts too much to think about him, to remember that you didn’t even get to say a proper goodbye, that he’s off somewhere else in the galaxy and even if you could find him, you’d be terrified of the danger you might bring him. You uncross your arms over your chest and bring the pads of your fingers down on your shoulders, trying to eradicate some of the ache. Your eyes fall back on Din and Bo-Katan. She has the saber now.

You stare at her, watching her swipe the blade expertly at Din. You don’t know how much you trust her—you have faith that she won’t actively try to kill your Mandalorian—but the way she plunged the saber expertly into Gideon’s heart a few minutes ago is still a blazing image imprinted on the back of your eyelids. She catches the beskar, once, twice. You stand up straighter. You know Din said he’d let her win, but seeing him this much on the offensive is starting, jarring. It’s unlike him. She strikes, again and again, and right when you see him about to admit defeat and topple over, it’s like something ignites inside of him. Swiftly, he twists around, slides through the dusty ground, and lands his boot firmly against the plate of armor covering Bo-Katan’s stomach, knocking the wind out of her, pushing her into the dirt. You feel your eyes widen. Hers do, too. Din’s standing over her, triumphant, the flickering pulse and thrum of the Darksaber safely in his hand.

He hauls her to her feet. You’re expecting to see a bruised ego, to have to step between the two of them to play peacemaker, but there’s this intensity in Bo-Katan’s eyes that isn’t malicious or conniving. Impressed, you register after a few seconds of staring, she’s impressed. Her mouth is pressed in an even thin line, and she looks from the Darksaber to Din. “Told you,” she finally says, and there’s almost no edge to her voice, “it belongs to you.”

For what feels like the first time in this whole battle, Din looks down at the ignited Darksaber in his hand. It’s a wicked weapon, the outline spitting black and white sparks. It’s menacing and it’s scary and it doesn’t match the energy of Mandalore at all.

“Don’t tell me you still don’t want it,” Bo-Katan says, and there’s a spark of disbelief in her voice, “not after all that.”

“I want the weapon,” Din says, finally, his voice faraway. “But I don’t want the responsibility.”

Bo-Katan sighs, agitated. “You—”

“I won’t do it,” he interjects, looking from the blade to her. “Not unless you help me rule.”

You stare at him. Bo-Katan’s eyes bug out, and she furrows her eyebrows in confusion. “That’s not how it works,” she starts, and Din holds out a hand, stopping her.

“I’m Mand’alor now,” Din says, and the word, the regality of it, sounds like it tastes funny in his mouth, “I get to choose how I rule, right? I don’t want to do it without either of you.”

You step forward, looking at him. “D—Mando,” you start, catching yourself just in time, “we have—a war that needs to be won. We have evil all over the galaxy chasing us down. We—” you stop short, inhaling, “I don’t have—I—”

“Mandalore will be our home base,” Din interrupts. “We move the Rebels here, and this is where our hub of operations will be. For the time being, at least, until we fight back against the Order or someone else fights me for the throne. I said we can’t have everything,” he says, and you can feel the weight of his eyes on yours, “but maybe I was wrong.”

You stare at him. “This is a big deal—”

“I gave you my life, Nova, and my word. I’m never leaving you again,” Din interjects, looking back to Bo-Katan, “and I know no one will take my leadership seriously if you aren’t a part of it.”

Bo-Katan’s eyes narrow into slits. “I’m stubborn.”

“I know.”

“We’re going to butt heads ninety percent of the time. More, probably.”

“I know that, too. But I can’t—and won’t—do it without you.”

“Mandalore hates Jedi,” Bo-Katan continues, and you shrink when she looks over at you. “And they’re not the biggest fans of the Alliance. Not me. But most of our planet were purged by people who wielded the Force, and they’re not going to take kindly to her. And, in turn, they’re not going to take kindly to you, either.”

“I don’t,” Din starts, “hear the word no in there anywhere.”

Finally, something lights up as Bo-Katan smiles. “This is going to be hard.”

Din looks over at you, lacing his fingers through yours. You feel warmth spread through your entire body as he’s about to speak. You know exactly what he’s going to say.

“Well,” Din says, pulling you in closer, flicking the Darksaber off and tossing it through the air to Bo-Katan, “good thing we don’t scare easy.”

You’re fully expecting to spend the night on Mandalore back in Kicker, the place where you’ve made your home, and your bed, but Bo-Katan offers you a room at the inn attached to the main building, and sleeping in a real bed—not half-made ones in hostels and Rebel hideouts—is a luxury you can’t refuse. You spend what feels like hours just laying spreadeagled on top of the comforter, trying to take in everything from the last few days. Most of you is still shell-shocked in complete disbelief that you’re here right now, that Din will be ruling a planet, that Gideon is dead, and that you’re nowhere even close to figuring out what the First Order is or what they want with you. Power, maybe. Midichlorians, definitely. But so much of this is completely obscure, so hidden in darkness, and you have the sinking feeling that you’ve only won one tiny battle. The war isn’t here yet. And when it is, it’s going to take everything out of you.

You need to train. You’ve been so preoccupied with being on the run with Din, and just trying to stay alive as you move from place to place, that you haven’t spent enough time practicing your hold on the Force. You’re not sure where Din is—probably finding food for the two of you—so you sit up, looking for anything small and movable enough to practice with. There’s no little metal balls in the room, and your heart seizes with how much you miss the baby, but there’s small glasses next to the small food bay across the room, so you close your eyes, clear your mind, and let everything run out of you.

It should be easier by now. You’ve held Moff Gideon at bay. You’ve knocked down an entire regiment of soldiers. You’ve been able to do the impossible, by sheer energy alone. But there’s something preoccupying the rest of your mind, something pulsing and nebulous and just beyond your grasp, and you don’t know what the roadblock is. It takes almost all of your energy to move the glass across the room, and you sink back against the bed, depleted. You try to chalk it up to exhaustion, fatigue from running yourself ragged all over the galaxy the last few days, and there’s still that awful nagging feeling that you’re forgetting something, that you know what obstacle is in your path, even if you can’t visualize it.

It’s hopeless. You punch a fist into the soft down pillow and immediately settle your head down in the dent you created, letting your hair pool out of your braid and onto the bed. You sigh, watching night descend on Mandalore outside of the window. The planet plunges beautifully into darkness—it’s a slow, steady blueness. There’s nothing sharp about this planet itself, you realize, even though its people are. It’s fighting. Tired, but fighting. And something about that makes your heart ache in recognition in your chest.

There’s still a haunted part of you that needs to decipher the visions you’ve bene having—huge, symbolic clashes that are nearly impossible to figure out. Your visions and premonitions have always been hazy, but they’ve also had discernable elements—Ahsoka’s lightsabers, the expression on Grogu’s face, Din with his beskar staff. The only recent premonition that seems to have a directive is the one of you looking straight into Luke Skywalker’s face when he’s old and grey, his mouth twisted up into one word. Go.

The memory of him alone makes something frenzied catapult to life inside your chest. You push yourself off on the heels of your hands, ignoring the blissful way they gently sink into this mattress, digging through your stuff for your commlink. Hailing Wedge, who’s in the same sector as you are, shouldn’t be that big of a deal, but your commlink is impossible to connect. You curse, loudly, and you grab your blaster and strap the comm back on your wrist, about to run out the door to see if you have any better luck at a connection outside, until you collide straight into a full armor of beskar instead.

“Ow,” you remark, rubbing your forehead. “You know, having the skill of stealth is super useful when it comes to hunting bounties, but when it makes your fiancé run straight into indestructible armor, it’s not the greatest.”

Din sighs, airy and light, resting his hands gently on your shoulders. “Do forgive me,” he rumbles, and something wet and hot inside you ignites, “I couldn’t stand to be away from you a second longer.”

You grin up at him, all the frustration and urgency from the moment before slowly running out of you. “Where were you?” you ask, walking backwards, leading Din towards the big bed that swallows up most of the room. “I was getting worried.”

“Food,” Din says, and then he dumps a bag full of rations on the bed. You watch as he rotates around you, sitting on the bed. “We needed to stock up.”

You stare at him. There are weeks’ worth of food on the bed. “But—” you start, eyes tracking the massive bundle to his visor, “I thought we were staying here? On Mandalore?”

Din cocks his head to the side. “We will be,” he allows, sighing again, “but we still need to meet the rest of the team to fill them in on what we learned. And I have a feeling that Fett dug up more evidence than we did.”

You swallow. “Did you mean it?” you ask, and there’s a wobble in your voice you weren’t intending. “When you said that you’d take the throne, but only if the Alliance was able to operate out of here too?”

Din looks up at you, and then, before you can say anything else, he unlocks his helmet with a hiss, and you’re staring into his beautiful face. You step forward, hungry, trying to soak in every centimeter of it. Lightly, you press just your fingertips against his bare skin, landing between his open legs. For a minute, all you do is stare at each other in the silence.

“Yes,” he says, finally. His voice sounds so much freer out of the modulator. You nod slightly at his affirmation. “I don’t know how long it’s going to take to ensure that this is our main base of operations, but I meant everything I said back there. There’s a war coming,” he continues, and you feel the heaviness of his confirmation, “and I think the only way we’re going to win any part of it is if we work together.”

You smile down at him, strangely emotional. “I thought you liked doing things alone, Mandalorian,” you manage, voice high and breathy.

Before he can say anything else, you bridge the gap between the two of you and kiss him right on the mouth. Everything in you is rushing and colliding, wet and hot. It feels divine. You’re dying for him. Every time the two of you have had your hands on each other since reuniting, it’s been quick and to the point, trying to inhale the other person longer than a handful of minutes. You sink up against Din as you kiss him, as slowly and worshipfully as you can, feeling his lips melding and parting yours. It’s fully dark, now, and you can make out the identifying features of his face only because you’ve spent so much time cataloguing it. His hooked nose, his plush mouth, his deep, devout brown eyes. You kiss him, and you keep kissing him, as you step closer and closer. He still has all the beskar on, and you don’t rush to yank it off. You press the flesh of your thigh up against his crotch, and you intake a sharp breath as you feel him harden against your touch. You don’t say anything. Neither of you do. You don’t need to, not right now. Your bodies can do the talking for you.

You’re sighing back and forth into each other’s mouths, like you’re kissing for the first time all over again. There’s something that feels ceremonial about this—so real, so far away from desert planets and back alleys and old haunts. This is the kind of love you made back on Naator, the pulsing warmth you shared on Yavin. There’s something more between the both of you, a nebula of energy and passion and knowledge that you’re equals, that you’ve been to hell and back together. As you slowly start removing beskar plates, letting the metal clatter to the floor at your feet, Din tugs at your outfit, removing the trousers he bough from you, his big hands lingering on the curve of your back, thumb pebbling over your tits, coaxing you closer and closer. When you’re both basically undressed—stripped down to everything except your underwear, you sink down on Din’s knee, and he moans into your mouth with the feeling of your slick on his bare leg.

“Stay,” he breathes into the hollow right under your ear, and a shiver of pleasure rockets white hot through your entire body. You obliged as his knee starts thrumming up against you, pressing that sweet vibration right into your clit, and between the intensity of that feeling and the way his mouth is mumbling kisses all the way down the slope of your neck, your orgasm comes quick and fast. You’re loud. Embarrassingly loud, the kind of loud you only ever feel bold enough to let loose when the two of you are alone on a singular starship in the crush of space. You don’t care enough to be ashamed as he keeps pulsing his leg up between your thighs, pulling at your hips to grind yourself down harder and harder on that same spot, your whole body shaking from the glorious impact.

“I’m not—” you choke out, voice laden with pleasure, “—going anywhere.”

Just as intensely as he started, Din’s mouth vacuums off of you, and the absence of his warmth is jarring. You gasp in the dark, feeling his scruff travel down the other side of your face. He stops right up against your ear. You wait with bated breath for him to speak. “Cyar’ika,” he whispers, “that’s my line.”

So quickly that you don’t have a singular breath to inhale before you register the movement, he’s throwing you back against the bed. You let out a gasp, and then you feel his teeth sink in lightly to where your panties are riding high up on your hips. He uses his mouth to pull them all the way off of you, and then he stands over you, staring.

“Open your legs.”

Shaking, you do. “Din—”

He looks up at you. You can barely make it out in the dark, but you know what his eyes on you feels like. You gulp. “This is my apology for not letting you fight your own battles back in Canto Bight,” he says, and then his mouth is between your thighs.

You should probably be used to this feeling by now. He’s an expert, his tongue swirling and flicking out hours of devotion on your clit, but somehow, he gets better every time. You cum again, then again, and then he pushes a finger inside of you, and you can’t even be embarrassed about the sucking, squelch of a sound that your pussy makes to let him in because it feels so fucking good. Then you’re on the edge again, and again, and then he’s pushed you over for the fourth time.

“Let—” you start, raggedly, “stars, Din, let me taste y—you—”

“Not done,” he murmurs from licking out his name between your legs, and you size the top of his soft, dark hair and pull him upwards.

“Didn’t say you had to be,” you breathe, licking a slight layer of your orgasm off his lips, “just that I wanted to even out the score.”

His moan is just as breathy and high as yours usually are, and you scramble off the bed to fall at his feet, wiping off the small bead of precum from the tip, trying your best to maintain eye contact as you take every single inch of him down your throat, not caring about the tears it makes your eyes spring up, and caring even less about the lack of oxygen. You just want him to feel as divine as he always makes you feel, and as his fingers clench in your hair without abandon, you gasp around the force of his cock pounding your mouth into the next universe. “’M close,” he rasps out, and, reluctantly, you pull your mouth free, marveling at how hard and swollen he is for your tongue alone.

“I can keep going—”

“No,” Din interrupts, and then he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, spinning you around so you’re facing away from him, staring at the wall. You have no idea what he’s going to do, so you gasp when he pushes the head up against where you’re soaking, rubbing it up and down your slit, teasing you. Teasing both of you, really, by the moans emitted from his mouth mixed with yours, and when you bounce down to take a few inches, just a little bit, neither of you can control the rhythm. Din takes your hip with one hand, pressing the other flat against the small of your back, and you feel stars explode behind your eyes as his hand comes down to spank against your ass. It’s surprising and raw and when he takes his thumb and lightly drags it down the slit in your ass, you gasp, wet and hot.

“Do you like that?” he whispers, and you toss your hair over one shoulder, nodding vigorously. “Do you want me to play with this?”

Before you do anything but moan, he drags a clean finger through your slick, pushing just the tiniest bit against the hole.

“Fuck—” you manage, and as he wriggles his pinky inside you, you cum again. “Did—did you turn me around so you could do that?”

“Yes,” Din answers, one hand slinking over your shaking legs so he can rub at your clit again. “Moan for me, cyar’ika.” You do. Loudly.

“I want—”

“What?” he murmurs into your ear, “use your words.”

“When you take over the throne,” you gasp, blinded white-hot with desire, “I want you to fuck me like this on it.”

Din stands up. You aren’t expecting the movement, and you gasp as he walks you over to the wall. Before you can say anything else, his mouth is buried in the crook of your neck, telling you he’s about to cum. When he does, the feeling of him squeezing and shaking inside of you is enough to push you over the edge again. Slowly, slicked in sweat, both of you sink to the ground, still entwined, breathing heavily.

It’s so much like your normal position—up against the wall, staring at each other—that you start smiling.

“What?” Din asks, you can tell he’s wearing a grin, too.

“If you can lead just a fraction as good as you are at sex,” you breathe, “you’re going to be the best Mand’alor this planet has ever known.”

You hear him sigh, a tiny indication of a snort, and then his hands are on you, pulling you closer. “I can’t do it without you.”

You touch your fingers to his face, still warm. “Well,” you start, happiness flitting through your voice, “good thing I’m not going anywhere, remember?”

Din, suddenly, just pulls you closer. “Marry me.”

You blink up at him. “That is the plan,” you remind him, gently, and he shakes his head and starts redressing, throwing odd articles of clothing back over at you as he snaps the beskar back into place. “What are you—what are you doing, exactly?”

Din strides over to you, swallowing your face in his hands. “No. Right now Let’s go to the ship and say our vows.”

You stare at him. “I—”

“Do you not want to?”

The anxiousness in his voice nearly splits your heart in two. “Of course I want to,” you say, earnestly, closing the distance between the two of you, “but I—I’m not a Mandalorian. I want a ceremony. Somewhere—important to us. Like Yavin. Or Naator.” Your heart wrenches. “And I really want Grogu there.”

Din looks down at you, thumb stroking over your cheek. “Then we have a ceremony. With whoever you want. But I want to be able to take my mask off and kiss you as my wife, and I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

Your heart flips over. “Just the two of us?” you breathe, blood pumping in your ears.

“Just the two of us,” Din confirms. “No one has to know but us.”

A smile lights up your whole face. “Deal,” you answer, and then you’re being pulled from the inn by your Mandalorian, both of you racing back to the edge of town where Kicker is parked. Giddy, the two of you board, and once you’re in the cockpit, Din pulls off his helmet. You look around the ship for something light to wear in lieu of a vail, and you find a cream-colored shawl that you drape around your head.

“I love you,” you murmur to Din, staring up at him, taking in every inch of his face. “Ni kar’tayl su.”

“Darasuum,” he agrees. “I’m—I’m going to say my vows in Mando’a. You can, too, or you can say whatever you want.” He inhales, sharply, finger tracing a pattern over your cheek. “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde, Novalise.”

Your heart turns over in your chest. “What—what does it mean?” Your heart is beating so fast.

“We are one whether together or apart,” Din recites, sounding dazed. “We will share everything. We will raise our children as warriors.”

“We are one,” you echo, softly. “We do share everything. But I think our child is plenty good at being a warrior on his own.”

Din lets out a laugh. A real one, unencumbered and free. “You have a point.”

“I love you,” you whisper again. “You’re the other half of my soul. You make me quiet when it’s loud; you make me bright when it’s dark. There is no other person I would rather fight this battle with.” You inhale, breath shuddering. “I know you. For an eternity, I’ll know you. And I’ll love you even longer.” You pulse up on your tiptoes, staring deep into his eyes. “This is only the beginning.”

Din cups both sides of your face with his big hands. “It better be,” he agrees, pulling your makeshift veil away from your head, “considering we have forever.”

You beam back at him, step one foot forward, and meet his mouth in the middle. The two of you kiss, in silence, in love, for what feels like an eternity. Only when your commlink starts bleeping do you break apart.

Your eyes find Din’s. He nods. “Hello?” you manage, voice an octave higher than normal.

“Rebel girl,” Wedge’s voice floats through. The both of you sigh, relieved. “I’ve been trying to reach you for over a day.”

“Bad signal,” you say, glancing back at Din’s. “We were—uh, preoccupied. With Gideon. We’re on Mandalore. It’s a long story—”

“Nova,” Wedge interrupts, “I heard from Luke again.”

Your heart accelerates, then floats down to nothing. “What did he say?” you manage, breathily, voice quavering.

“He said,” Wedge sighs, “that you keep showing up in his visions. He wants to talk to you. No,” Wedge adjusts, “he needs to talk to you.”

You turn away from Din, pressing the comm against your mouth, bracing yourself against Kicker’s sturdy wall. “About what?”

“Something called the First Order,” Wedge says, and you whirl back around, making eye contact with Din. “And—and he said your kid wants to see you.”

Din grabs at your wrist. “Is he okay?”

“They’re both fine,” Wedge says, “but—uh, he gave me—a way to reach him. You can send him a hologram. I would do it now. Whatever he else he wants, I think he needs it soon. Did you—did you say that you interrogated Gideon?”

“Long story,” you mumble, brushing your hair impatiently out of your mind. “I’ll explain everything after I send a hologram to Luke.”

“Call me back,” Wedge agrees, and then he’s gone, with the address of where to send Luke Skywalker a hologram bleeping on your comm. Shakily, you inhale, and Din stands behind you. You project your two figures into your commlink, silhouettes blue and faded.

“General Skywalker,” you whisper, and then stronger, “My name is Novalise Djarin.” You inhale, exhale, looking straight into the light. “I hear I have something you want.”

I HOPE YOU LOVED IT!!!!!! it's with such a bittersweet heart that i'm writing this message to all of you. it truly has been the joy of my entire year to write this story for myself, and then for all of you! we have one more chapter left (don't worry, it's going to be PACKED and likely extra long), and i cannot wait to share it all with you.

the sequel is coming! i promise! i might need a few weeks to prep and get all my thoughts in order, but i am so stoked to let this baby bird of a story fly free and start working on the next one. i've decided that i'm going to write it in third person, with Nova as her own character, so for all of you who typically enjoy OCs/third person POVs, this one is for you! it means the absolute world to me that you all care about Something More (and have come to love Nova) so much. SM started as something for me to write for my own sake, and when i decided to share it, it changed my whole life. i consider each and every one of you my friends, and i am so, so lucky to have shared this journey with you!!!

more details will come of course on tumblr (amiedala) and tiktok (padmeamydala) about the sequel and what the last chapter of SM is going to entail. i've also been brainstorming ideas for a new series of novels, so if you're interested in my writing outside of SM, i'll eventually post about that on tumblr and tiktok too!

CHAPTER THIRTY (the grand finale) WILL BE UP AT 7:30 PM EST SATURDAY, JULY 17TH!!! sending so much love to you all, let's do this fabulous thing one more time!

xoxo, amelie

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shorkbrian · 3 years

Note

Any chances you'll write for Levi again? It's his birthday so i was scrolling and saw your drabble for him.

I missed his birthday FRICK. Well, I have a song that makes me soft and is a vibe while reading this. https://open.spotify.com/track/68XhCrBajUR64h6wv4eYYW?si=M4wxQMwiRnqGrvn2uPlUqw

and happy holidays to everyone lol

(Warnings - NSFW, no penetration, dubcon, gratuitous blowjob scene.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He’s called for you again.

You fix a cup of tea, just how you know he prefers it, trying to hurry through the motions, pouring the boiling water, steeping the leaves, adding the slightest touch of honey.

When you reach his room, you’re glad you’ve brought the tea. Upon opening the door, you can see that tonight will be rough, full of jealousy and unintended pain.

Levi has thrown things to the floor in anger, books, candles, paper and pen. He hardly ever leaves a mess, is meticulous about cleaning them up as soon as he makes them. It’s unlike his normal demeanor to be so disorderly.

The man is slouched in a chair by the wall, barely raises his head when you enter. He twitches despite the care you take in shutting the door, trying your best to close it quietly.

“Captain Levi? Sir?” You held in your gasp as he lifted his head. The captain looked awful - dark circles hung under his eyes, his posture was hunched and tired, and worst of all, his eyes were red and puffy, as if he’d been crying.

Captain Levi hardly ever cried.

“(Y/N), go sit on the bed.”

Without a word, you did as you were told, placing his cup of tea on the nightstand as you sat. Levi slowly stood, straightening his back out as he did.

“I’m....” He trailed off, stepping towards the bed. His eyes were kept downcast, unable to meet your questioning gaze.

You were aware that something had probably happened on today’s push beyond the wall. Less than half of the group that had gone over had come back, Erwin and Levi grim-faced at the head of the group. Too many deaths.

“Captain… tell me-tell me how to help?” You were used to it by now, pushing aside discomfort and embarrassment to cater to your captain.

He was a harsh man, face always lowered into a disinterested scowl, not hesitant to snap at anyone who irked him or raised his ire. He made crude jokes when he was in a good mood, swearing and letting a cruel smile cross his lips.

The man had a reputation - intimidating, rigid, competent and unwavering. But with you, the menacing Captain Levi was… different.

You weren’t sure when it had started.

All you had wanted to do was provide a small bit of comfort on what had seemed to be an awful day for the Captain, much like today. He had stormed through the mess hall, ignoring the cadets shrinking away at his prescence to march straight to the kitchen. Only higher ranking members could enter the kitchens, other than staff, so it wasn’t busy.

He had grabbed a plate from the cleaned rack of dishes, dished out food, then swiftly headed for the kitchen door again, only to snap at the first staff that got in his way; you.

Feeling awful as he stormed past you, committing nothing more than the crime of standing in his way for more than a mere second, you had tried to make amends.

It was common knowledge that the Captain had an affinity for tea. A nice cup offered to the man would perhaps lift his mood. At the very least, it would soothe your conscious - you felt guilty for worsening his evening.

So that’s what you did.

He had let you in his room with a curt “come in”, and you quickly explained what the tea was for, quick to set it on the small table he was seated at before the Captain could snap at you to leave.

“Drink it if you find it satisfactory, if not, feel free to dump it out the window. Again, so sorry for disturbing you Captain, sir, but I hope your evening goes well.”

And then you had left.

And Levi’s curiosity was piqued. Who were you, to be so bold as to feel entitled to his time? A lowly kitchen staff? You thought of yourself so highly, thought you knew him well enough to know how he took his tea? Pretentious.

But still, he found himself raising the cup to his lips, taking a sip, testing the taste. And admittedly, you didn’t know how he fixed his own tea. You had made it too sweet, with too much honey. The sweetness burned his tongue, scorched his throat far worse than hot water ever could.

He liked it.

Levi found himself seeking you out, finding out from the head cook who the kitchen staff were, who you were. When you worked, which barracks you stayed in, if you were always kind and sweet to rude people you didn’t even know.

You were surprised when the head cook had told you that Levi asked for more tea.

Of course, you brought it to him.

And at first, he never talked to you. He just watched you set down his tea, watched you give a small wave and a friendly, respectful curtsy before leaving.

Then he asked you to bring yourself a cup the next night, to sit with him.

Since it was Captain Levi, you couldn’t refuse.

Of course you were a bit intimidated - had you been doing something wrong? Was he going to fire you? But the man had said few words, just sipped his tea, watched as you blew at your own steaming cup.

It was an uncomfortable affair, at least for you, so it was surprising to you that he kept asking you to sit with him.

You start to see him often, more often than you previously had. He lingers in the mess hall, taking meals at the high ranks tables, and you always feel his eyes on you when you bring out more food to place on the buffet-style tables at the front. You often found him heading for seconds when you were adding food to the table, and he often said hello in his gruff, curt way.

Captain Levi was seen patrolling the area near the staff barracks, checking windows, checking doors, making sure everything was proper and safe. You could feel his presence, see his shadow sometimes when he passed by the window.

Between mealtimes, when you weren’t washing dishes or helping to prepare for the next meal, you were allowed breaks. You spent these breaks reading, or taking short walks along the inside of the garrison walls. It spooked you when you began seeing Levi nearby, apparently deciding to train the cadets near your common reading spots, or sometimes appearing suddenly during one of your walks.

He’d walk with you, not uttering a word, just strolling beside you in silence. You didn’t try to speak - he didn’t seem to be looking for conversation, simply companionship. And his presence, while unsettling, wasn’t entirely unwelcome - you knew that Captain Levi was one of the most capable fighters in the Survey Corps, and no Titan nor human would be able to hurt you unless he allowed it.

Despite his bitter demeanor, it was easy to see how much Levi cared for his underlings well-being. Always trying to make sure they were safe, risking his own life for them, pushing them to the brink and beyond during training so he could ensure that they could defend themselves during an attack.

The awkward tea-time turned into small chats, were Levi asked you about your home, your hobbies, your likes and dislikes.

Surprisingly, Levi didn’t shy away from answering when you yourself asked the same questions.

You became privy to his rough upbringing, the tragedy of his mother, the few friends he had made and lost.

The more the two of you talked, the more you understood his rough exterior, why he was cynical and brusque and mean.

But he became softer with you.

You weren’t sure when comfortable companionship, tentative friendship, had turned into unpleasant touches, quiet confessions, time spent together that you began to loathe and tried to avoid.

But some part of you understood, and felt bad.

Levi had never known someone in an intimate sense. Not like this, not like you. He could force you to submit to him, it could be an ordeal of tears and blood and despair for both of you, but if you went along with his whims willingly, the both of you were spared the pain.

Yes, you experienced discomfort, and unease, and you weren’t entirely happy about some of the things Levi asked of you, but you knew the man was tired, and hurting, and desperate for soft words and kind touches.

The man had wanted simple favors at first. A touch here, a light brush of his hand on your shoulder or a lingering caress of your hand if it rested on the table. Then it was sitting closer together, letting him brush your hair away from your face, his hand finding a home on the plush skin of your thigh as you two talked.

Then it was his late-night confessions, when he kept you past curfew, after the tea cups had long been dry. He told you how he wanted…. You. He wasn’t sure what it was that he needed, but it had to be from you.

He would take it, force it from you, whether it was sex or feelings or some twisted desire. He could, and both of you knew that he had the skills to completely subdue you.

But you caved immediately, feeling like a crumb of bread in the face of a raven.

Satisfied with your answer, the man had taken you that night, slowly peeled off your clothes and laid you on his bed like a lover. He had noticed your trembling, the tears clouding your vision, and he could tell this wasn’t something that you wanted to willingly give to him.

But he took anyway.

He had never allowed himself to be selfish, to want things for himself, to afford thinking thoughts of a loving partner, kindness and gentle treatment with his rude and brash personality.

Levi had made it good for you - he had bedded women before, to sate his physical desires when they so rarely arose. But with you, unlike those other women, he wanted you to stay in his life, be there for him when he craved the sweetness you provided in your tea, in your body, in you. He wanted you to be his constant, the person he could turn to, always.

And so you where.

You were when he pulled you into his quarters at odd hours, just to share heated kisses and let his hands wander across your flesh.

At times when he was frustrated, angry, and needed a rough fuck to find his calm again.

Whenever Levi needed to feel the heat of another’s body, to experience pleasure and love and feelings of warmth and desire, you were the person he turned to.

It’s why he turned to you now.

“I’d like to hold you.” It was more of a command, an order, than a question.

Shuffling on the bed, you scooted back so he could sit down, so he could gently push your shoulders so you fell back onto the pillows. The man crawled closer, flopping down beside you with a tired, wretched sigh, one that made your bones ache in sympathy.

You were so used to the Captain taking what he wanted, you didn’t even cringe when an arm was slung over your chest, grabbing you, pulling you close to him. He buried his face in your neck, throwing a leg over your hip and an arm over your waist, completely plastering himself to your side.

The sounds of your breathing filled the room - your uneasy, disturbed rhythm accompanying his rapid, shuddering breaths.

It was only when wetness smear across your neck, did you realize that the man was crying.

You knew how that could feel, lungs burning, shoulders aching, heart squeezed and deadened in your chest. How you longed for comfort, for someone to hold you and soothe the pain.

So you tentatively drew your own hand around his slim shoulders, your other hand rising to play with a strand of thin hair, drawing him closer to you.

In some twisted, pathetic turn, you felt sorry for the man.

Sorry that he felt such pain, such anguish. Sorry that so much responsibility rested on his shoulders. The responsibility of keeping his soldiers alive, of protecting humanity, of fighting in life-or-death situations where he was forced to watch his comrades be torn to shreds. Sorry that he was stressed, that the world had beaten him down and never allowed him a quiet, easy life.

Most of all, you think you were sorry that he asked things of you that you weren’t comfortable in answering.

How do you tell a killing machine no? How does one go about turning away a sad, lost soul looking for company and warmth? How would you live with yourself if you put your own comfort higher than a man who was so integral to the continuation of humanity’s existence?

You could deal with the gross feelings in order to be of service.

It always surprised you, how a man so interested in cleanliness could make you feel so dirty.

Considerable time passed before Levi’s shaky, silent sobs evolved into normal breathing. He had cried his tears, let his sadness overflow in the safety of your arms.

Now he was content to hold you, to grip your form with such intensity that you were sure you’d have bruises along your waist.

You feel asleep like that, his arms tight around you, trapping your body close to his, making you feel every rise and fall of his chest, every steady beat of his heart.

——-

You woke up to movement.

It was still night, it must be, with the lit candles still burning at the bedside.

Levi was slowly grinding against you, his leg still slung over your hip, hard length rubbing against your stomach. You could feel a tiny hint of wetness seeping through your shirt, meaning Levi must’ve been at this a while to have leaked enough to soak through not only his own pants, but your shirt as well.

“(Y/N)…” He breathed, noticing you had stirred awake. A breathy sigh escaped the man, before his hips stopped moving. “Suck me off.”

Still half-asleep and blinking your eyes, you only managed to look at your captain, dazed.

A slow smile spread across his face as he took in your sleepy expression, but then he nudged your side again, insistent. “Suck me off, you got me all hard and now I’ve ruined my pants.”

As if it were fault that he was like this.

Finally registering his request, you moved down the bed to the man’s crotch, helping him shimmy off his sleep pants and underwear as you did so.

His cock wasn’t girthy, nor particularly long. It was pretty though, with a flushed tip, a pale base, and fat, firm balls underneath.

Without further ado, you set your mouth on him, gathering spit to slicken his length (not that you needed to, not with how much the man had leaked) before slowly making your way down. Drawing back a bit, you sucked at the crown, cringing a bit at how Levi’s entire cock twitched, the man drawing in a sharp inhale.

He was particularly sensitive there, just under the head, so you flicked your tongue against that spot a few times, heard him hiss in pleasure, before slurping back down along his length, taking him as far down your throat as you could manage.

Levi couldn’t help the rocking of his hips, the twitches of his cock. “Touch my balls (Y/N), please.”

You were surprised to hear him say please. He only offered such niceties when he was in a vulnerable, soft mood. His balls were plump, round, full to bursting with sperm. The skin was velvety soft as your rubbed at it, massaging the mounds with your palms, before rubbing over them quickly with the tips of your fingers.

Levi groaned, a hand clutching at the strands of your hair to anchor himself.

It was an uncomfortable feeling. You never liked when he touched you, and you never enjoyed touching him, but you bore it with no complaint, let him do as he pleased without a fight. Submission was easier.

His cock kept pulsing in your mouth, making you gag and choke around his length, which only seemed to draw him more pleasure. Despite the discomfort, you still did your best, hollowing your cheeks out to suck, hard.

Levi’s hips bucked up unexpectedly, hitting the back of your throat so quickly that you almost threw up with the intensity, immediately pulling off of his length with a hacking cough.

You let it rest against your cheek as you regained your breath, feeling it drool and twitch as if it were alive and hungry.

Levi let you rest; he knew you’d take him back into your mouth in a second, always eager to obey him.

And you did, sucking him with renewed vigor. The taste of his cock wasn’t entirely unpleasant, Levi kept himself clean and trimmed, so there was only the slightest hint of natural musk, but that was easily overwhelmed by the bitter taste of soap and the salty taste of sweat and skin.

Then Levi tugged your hair a bit, drawing your attention away from his cock and up to his face. “Slow down, I don’t want to cum too soon.”

He was in the mood to draw this out it seemed. You eased up on the suction of your cheeks, letting your cheeks go with a smacking sound. Apparently that felt good, since Levi sighed, rolling his head back to rest on the pillows.

The picture of relaxed pleasure.

Going slower now, you paused to let his length slip out of your mouth, giving the sides long, sensual licks, digging your tongue into the slit at the top.

You’d suck him back into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his length, before popping off again, this time going for his well-groomed balls, slathering them with spit as you lapped at the skin.

Eventually, you grew tired, your jaw sore. It’s not like you wanted to do this in the first place, but now you were physically feeling ache-y.

Taking him into your mouth one last time, you dug deep, sucking vigorously at his length, drawing him down your throat, trying to get him to the edge as quick as you could.

And it worked, because the next thing you knew, a spurt of cum hit your tongue.

With a gag at the taste, you whipped your head back, Levi’s cock falling out of your mouth. But with his grip still in your hair, he kept your head close, watching his cum stripe across your face with satisfaction.

Levi was breathing heavily, almost panting as he finished, and you were glad you had closed your eyes - you didn’t want to see the look on his face, eyes filled with an emotion you didn’t want to label.

At least he was kind afterwards, helped you clean it up.

His tea was still sitting on the nightstand, long gone cold. Levi offered you a sip still, and you readily accepted the liquid, soothing your throat

When you settled down again, face now washed and free of cum, Levi once again pulled you close to him. This time, his chin rested atop your head, his hands cradling your head to his chest.

You felt gentle vibrations as he hummed softly, and you internally thanked him for small mercies - not having you strip tonight, not fucking you, not making you feel good.

There was such guilt when he pleasured you. How could something unwanted feel so good? There must be something wrong with you, to get off on his ministrations.

It was easier for you to not dwell on those feelings.

Easier to just lay in Levi’s arms, and listen to the beat of his heart.

#levi ackerman #yandere levi #yandere Levi Ackerman #levi x reader #captain levi #dark levi #levi aot #dark aot #tw Dubcon #yandere #levi heichou #idk tags lol #Yandere aot #yandere attack on titan #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #ackerman

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