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toournextadventure · 11 months

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movie nights iv

Summary: You gather the Woodsboro survivors to go over your suspect list. Maybe you're just trying to impress Tara. That's for you to know and no one else to find out.

Word Count: 6.1K Warnings: swearing, Scream levels of violence Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader (pt.i) (pt.ii) (pt.iii) (pt.iv) (pt.v) (pt.vi) (pt.vii) (pt.viii)

The door was open. It was wide open, all that rat bastard had to do was walk right through it so you could kill him yourself. No fire escape, no hideaway, only the door. Why hadn't he walked through the goddamn-

"-You're not listening to me."

You blinked once before looking back over to your Aunt Sherry. By some miracle - it was still unclear if it was a good miracle or not - she had been the paramedic on scene. She hadn't truly questioned you yet, but you knew it was bound to happen. Your family was nothing if not nosy.

"What did you say?" You asked, fighting against the natural slip of an accent that would mimic Aunt Sherry's perfectly.

She gave you a pity-filled look. "Did he get ya anywhere else?"

"No," you instantly replied with a shake of your head. "That's it."

"Then you're all set," she said as she went to pat your shoulder. Thankfully she caught herself in time and patted your back instead. "And you don't want to go to Mercy?"

"Absolutely not," you mumbled as you hopped out of the back of the ambulance. "And don't tell Ma or Pop!"

"It's already on the news, kiddo," she said with a shrug. "If they know, they know."

"You're good for nothing," you shouted as you backpedaled to where Tara and her bunch were still standing. "See ya at mass."

Aunt Sherry waved at you and shook her head, but otherwise let you go. You looked down at the stitches now keeping your bicep together. Only five; it could've been much worse. If that was the bastard you were up against, he wouldn't be much of a challenge. Couldn't even swing a knife properly. Talk about pathetic.

You mouthed a “hey” at Tara when you finally got closer. It was cold now that the adrenaline was wearing off and you were finally feeling the cold autumn air. Would have been nice to have some sort of jacket. Or your shirt that Tara was still wearing. Well, you supposed everyone could enjoy seeing you half-naked. You would just freeze to death, it was fine.

“You okay?” Tara asked quietly, her eyes darting to the stitched up wound.

“Course I am, sweetheart,” you said with a shrug. You didn’t have the heart to tell her that it was starting to sting like a sonofabitch.

“Are you hurt?” Sam asked, and both you and Tara turned to look at her. If you were cold before, you were frozen under her icy stare.

“I mean… I’ve been worse,” you said as you did your best to avoid her gaze.

“Good,” she said. You didn’t have time to brace yourself before she slapped your uninjured arm. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“Ouch!” You complained. “The hell are you getting mad at me for?”

“I told you to stay away from my sister,” Sam continued. “You could have gotten her killed.”

“You think I called your stupid little serial killer?” You asked; you could feel the accent coming back in full force. All it did was make you more frustrated. “Isn’t he supposed to call me?”

“Guys-”

“-Nothing happened until you got Tara alone,” she interrupted Danny. “And that’s just a coincidence?”

You scrunched your face up and shrugged your shoulders. “Yes?” You said. “Why would I want anything to do with your psycho killer?”

“Hey, that’s enough,” Tara said, moving to hold Sam’s arm.

It didn’t stop her. “We were doing just fine until you came along.” Sam jabbed her finger into your chest.

“You really think the two ‘a youse were doin’ fine?” You asked. “You’re trust issues and repressed trauma in human form.”

“Hey,” Tara scolded, her eyes now on you.

“Listen, I’m sorry, but I’m right,” you said, holding your hands up in mock surrender. “And you can be suspicious all you want, but why the fuck would I interrupt myself finally gettin’ laid for the first time in months?”

“Oh my god,” Tara whispered to herself as she turned her back to you.

“I have priorities too,” you defended.

“Fine,” Sam said quickly. “If I say I believe you, will you please shut up?”

“Yes,” you said.

You all finally fell silent, Sam still giving you a look that meant she did not believe you, but at least she had stopped arguing. Danny was giving you that stupid “I’m not mad, just disappointed” look, and Tara still wouldn’t face you. What was going on in the world? You were just supposed to get laid, you weren’t supposed to be dealing with… whatever the fuck all of this was.

“So,” you finally said as police continued to mill around you. “What do you guys normally do now?”

“Seriously?” Tara asked, finally turning back to look at you.

“I’m no Ghostface expert,” you said defensively, again. “Do we just… go on as normal?” A chorus of groans followed your question. “Because I still need to go clean up the kitchen.”

“I do too,” Danny said, looking at Sam for a moment before turning back to you.

Unfortunately for him, Tara noticed and she stood up straighter.

“What was my sister doing in your apartment anyway?” She asked him. His mouth flopped open and closed like a fish out of water.

“Oh how the tables have turned,” you said as you crossed your arms over your chest and cocked your hip. “About damn time.”

“I was helping him carry up groceries,” Sam said with a slight shake of her head.

“Oh, so you can go into a stranger’s apartment and I can’t even have someone I know over?” Tara asked.

“Okay, hang on,” you said, somehow turning into the middle man. This whole night was turning into a disaster. You needed a drink. Or five.

“No, she doesn’t get to accuse you when she’s acting suspicious,” Tara said with a shake of her head before looking at Sam and Danny again. “So do you know him or not?”

“Tara-”

“-no, Sam,” she interrupted. “What is he to you?”

You locked eyes with Danny at the same time Tara and Sam locked eyes. Part of you wanted to just break the awkward tension and say Danny was with Sam. It would get Tara off his back and you could all go about the real problem; finally getting you back into a shirt so you wouldn’t freeze your tits off.

Sam sighed. “He and I are… a thing.”

“I knew it,” Tara said softly.

“Tara-”

“-I would’ve been happy for you,” she said. “If you hadn’t accused my partner of being Ghostface.”

“I’m your partner now?” You asked, perking up immediately.

“Shut up,” she said quickly.

“Yes ma’am,” you said, snapping your jaw shut. God you loved when she was mean.

“If I may-”

“-You may not,” Tara said, turning to face Danny. “I don’t want to hear from any of you right now.”

“How about from me?”

All four of you shut your mouths and looked around, finally seeing Detective Bailey walking toward your little group. You sighed and looked around. The last person you wanted to see at the moment was him. Well, okay, the last person you wanted to see was Ghostface, but Detective Bailey was a very close second.

“Why am I not surprised to see you here?” He asked, clapping you on the shoulder of your hurt arm. Oh fuck it hurt.

“Always a pleasure, Detective,” you said politely through a forced smile.

“You sound just like your old man,” he said.

“Bet I do,” you mumbled as you turned your head away.

“I’m going to need the two of you to come down for a talk,” Bailey said, pointing to you and Tara.

“Not us?” Danny asked.

“I’m coming too,” Sam said without waiting for Bailey to answer.

“You’ll be waiting in a separate room,” Bailey said. You didn’t blame him for not even arguing; if anyone knew Sam, they knew to just roll with the punches. “Come on.”

You followed him, Tara quick behind you. With a glance, you saw Danny and Sam talking for a moment before he backed away toward the apartment. She, on the other hand, caught up in only a few strides and forced herself in between you and Tara. If it hadn’t been for the whole just-nearly-getting-murdered thing, you would’ve teased her about her territorial tendencies.

“Don’t put me back there with her,” you said quietly when Bailey tried to put you in the back of the squad car. Right beside Sam. “She’s not my biggest fan.”

“Neither am I,” he said with a smile before pushing your head down and shoving you into the car. “Get in.”

You practically fell into the car, your knees banging against the front seat. It was still cold as hell and now your arm was strained. A quick glance down showed a few little spots of blood. Great. Now that was split again too. Why couldn’t anyone just let you grab some clothes?

The entire ride to the station you could feel Sam’s gaze on you. No, not a gaze, it was a full-blown glare. If you had died in that apartment, you didn’t think she would’ve been too upset about the fact. And Tara was being diplomatic and keeping her mouth shut, looking out the window as the city passed by. It was smart.

“So,” you started, “did you and Danny have a nice night?”

“Shut up,” Sam mumbled.

“Okay,” you said quickly.

Well, at least no one could say you didn’t try.

It was a short drive to the station, and you felt like you were going to combust under Sam’s eyes. The scrutiny didn’t stop when you pulled into the station, and it certainly didn’t stop when you walked in. If looks could kill? Yeah, it was a real thing. It might not kill, but it definitely made you want to die.

“Hey, Y/N,” Linda at reception said when you walked in.

“Hey, babe,” you said with a wink, walking over to lean on the desk. “How’re the little rascals?”

“They’re good,” she said, leaning forward on her arms. “Found you a girl yet?”

“Think so,” you said, fully putting on the charm. “Right over there,” you gestured your head behind you.

“I’m guessin’ it’s not the one givin’ you the “eat shit and die” look?”

You both turned your head to look at Sam, who had now crossed her arms over her chest. Tara wasn’t even trying to stop her; you didn’t blame her. Samantha Carpenter was a force of nature that no one wanted to fight against. Tara had probably learned that after the first Ghostface attack in Woodsboro.

“Good guess,” you mumbled.

“Keep moving,” Bailey said as he walked past you with Tara and Sam hot on his heels.

“We’ll catch up another time,” you said, sending Linda a wink and smile.

“Countin’ on it,” she replied before blowing a kiss in your direction.

Your brother was going to kill you for flirting with his wife.

It was a familiar walk back to Bailey’s interrogation room. While Sam was directed to a separate room, you walked in ahead of Tara and sat down in the seat that you had secretly designated as your own. At the rate you frequented, you might as well just carve your name into the wood. Just so Bailey would always have a reminder of you whether he wanted it or not.

“Here,” he said when he walked in and threw something at you. You flinched, but caught it. “Put that on.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled as you pulled the NYPD shirt over your head. You sneezed. “Sorry,” you said when you wiped your nose. “I’m allergic to pigs.”

“Stop,” Tara whispered to you.

“What can you tell me about tonight?” He asked, completely ignoring your comment.

“We were just having dinner and watching a movie,” you said with a shrug. “Bada bing, bada boom, little rat bastard interrupts.”

“Did you find him?” Tara asked. Why was everyone ignoring you? You were the one with the injuries, right? Shouldn’t you have more of a say than anyone else? Maybe you had a lot more to learn about this whole Ghostface thing than you had thought.

“We didn’t find anything,” Bailey said with a shrug. “Got anyone who has it out for you?”

They both turned to look at you after the question had been voiced. You looked between the both of them. Oh for fuck’s sake, now it was just getting insulting. There was no winning for you, was there? First you’re interrupted, then you’re attacked, then interrogated by not only Sam but now Bailey too? Well, fuck you, you guessed.

“Why are the two ‘a youse looking at me?” You asked. “I stay out of trouble.”

They both gave you exasperated looks.

“I mostly stay out of trouble,” you corrected.

“Was your sister accounted for?” Bailey asked.

“She was across the alley with a guy,” Tara answered with a shake of her head.

“Danny,” you filled in. “He didn’t do this.”

“And neither did Sam,” she said.

“Did he target one of you more than the other?” He asked.

“He turned to face Tara,” you said as you recalled the event. Most of it was a blur, but you could pick out one or two pieces. “But he didn’t have enough time to really target anyone.”

“Then you need to stay safe,” he said directly to Tara. “I would guess he’s going after your Woodsboro crew.”

“Typical,” Tara huffed, falling back against her chair.

“What do we do?” You asked, doing the opposite of her and leaning forward on the table. “Twiddle our thumbs until you maybe catch the guy?”

“Are you calling us incompetant?”

“Yeah,” you said with a nod. “I am.”

“You’re going to go home and let us do our jobs,” he said.

“And if you don’t do your jobs?” You asked with a tilt of your head.

“You’re still going to stay out of it.” He wasn’t even looking at Tara anymore. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal,” you answered.

You kept your eyes locked on his. It wasn’t your first stare down with Bailey, and it certainly wouldn’t be your last. You knew you were on his permanent shit list, but quite frankly you didn’t care. His group of piss poor detectives had let you all down time and time again, you weren’t going to trust him with your life.

And you certainly weren’t going to trust him with Tara’s.

“You’re both free to go,” he finally said. “We’ll be in touch.”

“I bet you will,” you said, but stood up anyway.

Tara left the room before you, and you sent one more glare at Bailey before following suit. To no one’s surprise, Sam was already waiting. She checked on Tara and gave you a once-over before starting the walk out of the station. You gave Linda a smile and a little wave before walking outside.

Where the news stations were waiting.

It was absolute pandemonium. Too many voices, too many flashing lights, you were amazed the Carpenters weren’t fazed. Well, you were amazed but not surprised. You knew all the shit they had to deal with since Woodsboro. They were probably used to all the commotion that came with being survivors of a brutal series of killings.

“Don’t talk to them,” you said as you quickly got between them and the reporters. “Keep walking, I’ll take care of it.”

You turned around and held your arms behind you to keep a hold of Tara and did what you knew would work. As your godmother had taught you, you started swearing up a storm. Every word you could think of to form the most colourful string of curses you could come up with. The looks of pure agitation and frustration on the reporters’ faces was enough to make you smile.

“That doesn’t work on me, sweetheart.”

Your smile fell when Gale walked into your view.

“Now’s not the time,” you said with a pointed look. “We can talk later.”

“An exclusive?” She asked, following behind you as you pushed Sam and Tara down the sidewalk and away from the station. And the reporters.

“Without your cronie,” you said.

Gale gave you a look of pure exasperation, but only a moment later waved for her cameraman to leave. You waited for him to be out of earshot before you gestured for her to follow you, and she instantly fell into step with you as you both caught up to the Carpenters. They didn’t seem as impressed, but at least they knew her.

“Are you okay?” She asked you. “I heard you got hurt.”

“Just a scratch,” you said with a shrug. “Far less than you lot have gone through.”

“I had wanted to keep you out of all of this,” she said.

“Well,” you sighed. “Seems I’m in it now.”

“What are you doing here, Gale?” Sam asked, turning around quickly and stopping the four of you in your tracks. “I think you know we’re not too happy with you.”

“No one is ever happy with me, sweetheart,” Gale said with her News Smile. “I’m actually here to check up on Y/N.”

“With your cameraman?”

“How do you know Y/N?” Tara and Sam asked at the same time.

Everyone turned to look at you, who was in the process of biting your fingers off. You froze under the scrutiny, your hands slowly falling back down to your side where you shoved them in your pants pockets. It seemed like you were just going to be interrogated for the rest of your life.

“I’m their godmother,” Gale said when it was clear you were a little too frazzled to talk.

“Excuse me?” Tara asked.

“My Pop went to college with her,” you finally managed to say. “Suppose he liked her enough to make her part of the family.”

“And you just failed to mention that little fact?” Tara asked, her arms crossed defensively over her chest. Oops.

“Didn’t think it mattered,” you said with a shrug, “I’m not Woodsboro.”

“Can we focus?” Sam asked. “What do you want, Gale?”

“What happened?” Gale asked. “No recorder, no camera, just tell me.”

The three of you looked at each other and sighed. They might not trust Gale - which was understandable, she had written a book when she said she wouldn’t - but you did. She might not be blood, but she was family. You gave the Carpenters time to stop you before turning to face her and telling her what happened.

You ommitted the little detail that you were mid-lay.

“I’m going to go do some digging,” she said with a dazed nod of her head. “You do the same?”

“Yes ma’am,” you said with a shrug. “I’ve got a few things to go over.”

“Good,” she said before looking back at Sam and Tara. “Stay safe.” She looked at you. “All of you.”

All of you nodded and mumbled an agreement before bidding Gale goodbye. You watched and waited for her to be gone before turning back around to face the others. Now that everything had mostly calmed down, you were starting to focus on the real issue at hand again.

“What now?” Tara asked, her eyes flicking between you and Sam.

“We need to meet up with Chad and Mindy,” Sam said. “Fill them in.”

“I’ll head to my apartment,” you said. Tara opened her mouth to protest almost instantly. “I need to go over a few things.”

“We need to stick together,” she said.

“We can all meet up at my apartment tomorrow night,” you said with a gentle voice. “I’ve got some digging of my own to do.”

“No one even knows where you live,” Sam said. She looked at Tara and waited to see if she knew. Thankfully, she didn’t, and Sam let out a barely noticeable sigh of relief.

“I’ll call you from a burner and tell you the address,” you said. Both girls looked at you with raised brows. “Can’t trace a burner, and it guarantees it won’t be mirrored.”

“That’s some sketchy shit,” Tara said. “How do you know this stuff?”

“Got a few tricks up my sleeve,” you shrugged. “Still not Ghostface,” you defended when Sam gave you a judgmental look.

“Then we’ll see you tomorrow,” Sam said. “Come on.”

She turned around to leave, and you stood there watching her go. Tara hesitated, looking between you and Sam. As much as you wanted her to stick around, you knew she needed to be with her gang. No one could understand them the way they understood each other, and one little half-hearted attack didn’t make you one of them. You knew that.

“Go on,” you said softly with a gentle smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She looked at you for a little too long, long enough to have you shifting your weight from foot to foot. You inhaled deeply, trying your best to calm your racing thoughts and pulse. Tara stepped forward slowly and grabbed the front of your shirt, pulling you down just enough to plant a gentle kiss on your cheek.

“Stay safe,” she said. “I mean it.”

“Yes ma’am,” you said with another smile.

Tara took that as good enough and turned around, jogging to catch up with Sam. You could see the both of them talking, and Sam’s arm wrapped protectively around Tara’s shoulders. It was sweet. You couldn’t even imagine what all they went through on a regular basis. All the chaos was enough to make anyone insane. They were lucky to have each other.

You shook the thought out of your head and started the long walk back to your apartment. If they were all coming over tomorrow night, you would need to have all your ducks in a row. No way were you inviting veterans into your home only to look like a fool.

—---

By the time everyone showed up at your apartment, you were running on 43 hours of being awake, your seventh espresso, and your 13th RedBull. Were you going insane? Yes. Could you smell colours? Absolutely. In fact, red smelled like black pepper. Or maybe that was the disgusting takeout you had been munching on for the past nine hours.

Damn, you needed to clean. Thank god Garret wouldn’t be back from his parent’s house until next weekend.

The knock on your front door pulled you back to the current situation. Right. You were going to show everyone what you had discovered. Which, not to brag, but it was pretty impressive. You managed to sweep the majority of the trash into a trash bag and put it off to the side before tripping over papers on the way to the door.

“Hey,” you said with a frazzled smile when you threw the door open and saw the entire gang standing there.

“When was the last time you slept?” Anika asked.

“Or showered,” Chad chimed in.

“Just get in here,” you said as you stepped aside. “I’m definitely on to something.”

“Good, because I have my own theories,” Mindy said with a smile. She was the first to enter.

You said hi to every one of them as they came in. Anika gave you a chaste kiss on the cheek and Quinn patted your unhurt arm. When Tara finally walked in, at the very end of the line, she gave you a look that you… couldn’t quite describe. She didn’t look sad. You supposed “worried” was a much better descriptor.

“You didn’t even change out of the shirt,” she said, pulling lightly on the NYPD shirt that you were still sporting.

“Shit,” you mumbled, “you’re right.”

“Go change,” she said, and you nodded before shutting and locking the door behind her.

“Get settled,” you told everyone as you walked into your room. You left the door open as you dug for something to wear. “All ‘a youse stayed safe, right?” You called.

“Safe and sound,” Anika called back.

“Good,” you said, tossing the NYPD shirt onto the bed. You were still trying to orient the new shirt as you walked back into the living room. “I’ve got some information you’re all going to love.”

“Who is that guy staring at us from across the alley?” Chad asked.

“What?” You said as you finally pulled the shirt over your head. You walked over to the window to see who he was talking about. “Oh, that’s Tony.”

“Who?” Sam asked.

“My older brother,” you said, shooting a wave at him. He waved back and smiled. “After the other night, I asked him to keep watch. His bedroom window watches the fire escape outside my room.”

“How many brothers do you even have?” Quinn asked, mostly to herself.

“Five,” you answered anyway, “and two sisters.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Tara asked incredulously.

“What can I say,” you shrugged. “We’re Catholic.”

“And you trust Tony?” Mindy asked. “Like really trust him?”

“With my life,” you said. “Now, everyone sit down, I’ve got a few things to show you.” You looked around. “Where’s Ethan?”

“Econ,” Chad answered.

You looked around for a moment, collecting your thoughts. “Alright then,” you said. “Mindy, would you like to enthrall us with your theories while I get my stuff situated?”

“I would love to,” she said with a smile as she stood up in front of everyone.

You listened to Mindy’s talk about sequels and remakes and upping the budget and yada yada. It was all very flashy, very out there, but you could respect it. If anyone would know what was going on, it would be Mindy. And she managed to fill more than enough time while you finished pulling everything up on your laptop and hooking it up to the projector on the ceiling.

“Now we shall hear your theories,” Mindy said as she practically handed you the floor.

“Not necessarily theories,” you said, “but I dug up some dirt.”

“And how did you manage to do that?” Chad asked as he leaned back against your couch.

“Well, Chadwick,” you said, ignoring the glare he sent you, “I learned from a very reliable source.”

“Gale is their godmother,” Sam explained.

“And my sister Martha is a tech guru,” you said as you pulled up your powerpoint presentation, “so I learned from the best.”

“Did you turn this into a TED Talk?” Quinn asked with a tilt of her head.

“Why yes I did, Quinn, thank you for asking,” you said as you pulled up the first slide.

“How long is this presentation?” Tara asked.

“Long,” you said with a smile, “so buckle up.”

You went over everything you had managed to dig up for the past 18 hours. From all the Reddit conspiracies, to possible motives. You pointed out how all the theories of Sam being the killer had all managed to come from different sock puppet accounts, which all connected to two different real accounts, which shared IP addresses.

“And you learned how to find that out from your sister?” Anika asked as she leaned forward on her thighs.

“Yes I did,” you said, “and she’s never wrong.”

“Who do the two accounts belong to?” Tara asked.

“Now that I don’t know yet,” you sighed. “But we got our two potential Ghostfaces right there.”

“Two?” Sam asked.

“There’s almost always two,” you said. “Except for, uh, what’s his name,” you shuffled through some of the papers on your table. “Ah, that Roman guy.”

Everyone looked at you with a mix of shock, confusion, and amazement. And maybe a little bit of fear.

“I told you I did my research,” you defended. “Unlike you guys, I didn’t grow up with Ghostface as part of my school curriculum.”

“So you did all this just to tell us you still don’t know who it is?” Chad asked.

“I’m not a detective, I’m doing my best,” you huffed. “It’s more than that pig Bailey ever did.” You instantly looked at Quinn. “No offense, doll.”

“None taken,” she said with a shrug.

“But I do think this means he’s going after you, Sam,” you said. “He painted a bullseye on you with the Reddit bullshit. Must’ve pissed someone off.”

“Seems that’s all I ever do,” she said with a huff.

Everyone got to talking, going over what you had managed to find out. You continued shuffling through your papers, seeing if there was anything else you had left out. All the adrenaline and caffeine was starting to wear off and your eyes were fuzzy, but you could focus long enough to read. Mostly.

Your phone vibrated on the table, and you looked down. From the area code, the call was from the Bronx. If anything, one of your siblings got a new phone and was calling you to let you know. It had happened far too many times anyway, you shouldn’t have been surprised.

“Quit breakin’ your goddamn phone,” you said immediately after answering.

“Hello, Y/N.”

You froze.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. “Cat got your tongue?”

Everyone was still talking amongst themselves. You didn't know if you were supposed to tell them about the call or not. No one was looking at you, so you walked over to the window. When Tino looked over, you signed for him to watch.

"You and your buddy showin' up tonight?" You asked. "Or are you both a couple 'a pussies?"

"You're bold," he said. "Have you learned much from your research?"

"A bit," you said. You were eying the streets below. Surely he was somewhere close.

"Then I'll ask you the single most important question," he said. "What's your favourite scary movie?"

“Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure,” you said. “Large Marge will haunt me till I die.”

“You think you’re funny.”

“My Ma told me I’m a natural comedian.” He wasn’t in the alley. Where was he?

“You ever seen Stab?”

“Not really,” you said. You were vaguely aware of the fact that everyone had fallen silent. “I think they're insensitive."

"Insensitive?" He chuckled. "How chivalrous."

"You gonna play your game or not?" You asked, finally turning back around to see everyone staring at you.

Oh no.

"Did you check Garret’s room when you got home last night?"

Your eyes darted to Garret’s closed bedroom door. No. No you hadn’t checked it last night. The phone fell from your hand as you vaulted over the armchair in your way. Someone was calling to you, but you couldn’t hear what they were saying. Without any hesitation or sense of self preservation, you threw the door open.

No one was in there.

“Shit,” you mumbled to yourself.

“Don’t go in there!” Mindy shouted at you from the living room. “Have you never seen a horror movie?”

“Just shut up,” you called back. “Get out,” you said when you grabbed one of the baseball bats you kept in every room of the apartment. “Tony’s apartment number is 413, it’s a four floor walk-up.”

“I’m staying,” Tara said.

“Come on,” Chad said; you hoped he grabbed her and forced her to leave.

This is a stupid idea, you thought as you stalked your way to Garret’s closed closet door. Sure, you had a bat, but you had no idea what you were going to do if that fucker was in there. What, you were going to just bludgeon him to death? Yeah, that would look great on your rap sheet.

“Here goes nothin’,” you mumbled as you turned the doorknob and threw the door open, the bat primed and ready.

No one was in there either.

“What the-”

-screams came from the front door.

Shit.

You tripped over Garret’s duffel bag that he had left and hit the floor with a hard *thud*. The stitches on your bicep pulled tight. You could hear your pulse racing in your ears as you pushed yourself back up to your feet and ran out of the room.

Just in time to see Ghostface pulling the knife out of Anika’s stomach.

You saw Mindy not too far away holding her bleeding arm, but you couldn’t find anyone else. That was probably a good thing.

Ghostface lifted the knife again.

The wood of the bat rubbed harshly against the skin of your palms as you swung. It hit his head with a hollow *thunk*, and he groaned and fell to the ground. You didn't recall crossing the living room.

“Go,” you shouted as you pushed Anika and Mindy into your room and slammed the door behind the three of you.

Mindy helped Anika onto your bed and pushed against the wound that you could now see went all the way from her sternum to her stomach. Your own stomach twisted at the sight. The muscles in your legs were frozen even as your mind ran rampant.

Something grabbed the doorknob.

You dropped the bat and lunged, slamming into the door right as it opened. Your hands wrapped around the doorknob as it twisted erratically. The metal started to heat up from the friction and you could feel it burning the skin on your palms.

"We're going to die," Anika cried.

"Try to stay positive," Mindy told her even as she was looking around the room for… you didn't know what.

The doorknob twisted again. The door opened slightly, and you slammed your shoulder into it again. Why didn't you fix the fucking lock when you had the chance last week?

"If we get out of this alive, I'm fucking strangling you-"

-The gleam of a knife shut you up and took over everything in your sight.

You followed as it pulled out, leaving a hole in your door right beside your head along with a light smear of blood.

"Get out," you said, your eyes still glued to the blood smear on your door.

"What?" Mindy asked

"Fire escape leads to Tony's room," you said.

"Tara will kill me if I leave you-"

-the knife drove through the door again. You jumped back but felt a sharp sting in your hip.

The door tried to fly open again. You yelped, but pushed against it harder. Your bare feet dug into the carpet and you could feel the strain in your thighs.

"Give me the chair," you ordered, waving your hand vaguely in the direction of a metal folding chair.

Someone shuffled around the room, and in seconds you felt the chair in your outstretched hand. You placed it underneath the doorknob.

The knife pierced the door again.

And again.

"Come on," you heard Mindy say to Anika. At least you assumed that was who she was talking to.

Anika groaned, but the sounds meant they were moving. Hopefully to your window. Your pulse was rushing in your ear.

The doorknob jiggled again.

"Grab my hand!" Okay, that was Sam, the window was open.

The knife came into your field of view.

Oh god this was so stupid!

"Y/N, come on!"

Tara?

The doorknob quit moving and the room was enveloped with a deafening silence.

You let go of the doorknob slowly and took a few hesitant steps back. The heel of your foot hit the bat, and you reached down to pick it up without taking your eyes off the door.

"Just get out here!"

The grain of the wood rubbed your palms raw as you tightened your grip on the handle. It hung in the air above your shoulder, ready to swing.

I dare you to try it.

"Tara wait!"

Someone stepped onto the fire escape before climbing into the window. You didn't dare turn from the door. A familiar hand touched your ear. It stung.

"You're bleeding," Tara said softly.

You didn't answer.

There was banging in the living room. You twisted your hands around the bat and planted your feet. So help you god, if Ghostface even so much as sneezed you would-

"-It's Bailey!"

Your heart skipped a beat. Maybe two.

"We have paramedics downstairs," he continued, "open the door."

Your eyes stayed on the door even as you toed the chair, pulling it until it fell to the ground with a *clang*. Your grip on the bat tightened as you watched the doorknob twist.

Detective Bailey stepped into the room, hands held up in surrender.

You exhaled sharply and felt all the muscles in your body relax.

The bat fell to the ground as your vision went fuzzy. Tara's hand fell and rested on your hip.

You supposed you had just survived attack number two.

#tara carpenter x reader #tara x reader #tara carpenter #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega

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constantcrying · 4 months

Text

Anger is a secondary emotion.

m!yandere x gn!reader

TW: obsession, some violence

This'll be my first post! If you have any feedback, I hope you'll share it.

He's trying. Honestly he is. He's putting in the work, biting his tongue and keeping his fists clenched. He'll never pick another jealous fight or cause a scene for the rest of your lives. He'll stop taking souvenirs from your home after every visit. Maybe he'll even go to therapy and unpick the fucked up weave of his childhood to find the origin of his every maladaption. Who knows, he might come out of this rough patch a better human being.

Promises between the two of you are worth something. You always say what you mean, do what you say. That consistency is another thing he loves about you, another one of the countless reasons he couldn't bear to lose you. It was why the look on your face that day had terrified him, as you confessed you were sick of his shit and struggling to be his friend—you meant it when you said you would go no-contact because he was obsessive.

It was bad enough being relegated to a mere friend after two years of adoring you. What was he supposed to do if you left him altogether? As much as he hated sharing your time and attention with the rest of the world, he couldn't bear to lose his humble slice of it. Before he met you, he hadn't cared so deeply about anything or anyone. He hadn't known what to do when he fell for you, except sink his teeth in and never let go.

Just the thought of life without you made him so sick, he fell to his knees on the spot. He fought his shaky voice and managed to utter an apology, begging for a chance to correct himself.

He isn't good with humility or patience or prostration. But he is honest. He does love you. He'll do anything for you, even act right.

You knew him well enough to believe his words. You also (rightly) pitied him. In the end you agreed that if he cleaned up his act, you wouldn't cut him off.

For now, he's on probation, seeing you once every eight days or so. He's not strong enough to go longer than that without being near you. In between those pressure control days, he journals, meditates, and reads self-help books. He'll even exercise more than he ever did before, because studies claim that it helps with emotional regulation. He thinks it's all stupid. He hopes it works and you think better of him. He continues this way for months.

The result? He isn't biting off your male friends' heads anymore. He isn't trying to monopolize your time. He doesn't obsessively check your location and text you like crazy. A touchy friend says hi to you at a cafe, and he doesn't get angry at them for interrupting and hugging you, he just says hi back. It's actually pleasant to hang out together in public again. For you, it's like the friend you made so long ago has actually come back. You don't ever say it, but he thinks you might believe he's actually over you.

He forgives you for that, and for the threat of leaving. He knows your peace is important to you, so you just said what you thought was best. And him...he'll stop with the outbursts, bury all of the feelings he's wrestling with. See? He changes for you. How many of your ex friends and lovers can say the same?

But there's nothing you can do about your missing possessions ex post facto. He still struggles, like anyone with bad habits. There's always an urge to come closer to you, to cradle you to his chest, to kiss you stupid. Just...let him keep the chapstick and the t-shirts, at least. He can tide himself over with the lingering scent of your favorite products.

And, of course, the anger remains simmering under his skin. It comes in waves, he notices, after every doubt and concern. Your casual smile at another person, for a split second, makes his gut churn before the heat of rage washes over him. After he sends a text you don't respond to, his heart sinks, and then it catches fire. He's always scared first. Maybe the journaling isn't so stupid if it can show him these patterns.

The problem is, he can't kill the source of his fear unless he can have you all to himself. That's not happening anytime soon.

So he's still struggling his way through your time together. You hang out like normal people, having dinner at a new restaurant before strolling down the street on a cool summer evening. Almost no one is outside, creating the sense that you two exist in your own little pocket dimension. You decide to go down a little alleyway, a shortcut that never presents any problems.

Somehow, a throw-away comment of his makes you laugh, and he wants to take the sound and inject it into his veins. The glory of your approval is bittersweet. He dreads the way this night will end: with you going to your place instead of coming home with him. It is all he can do, not to break the unspoken barrier between you. He wants to be optimistic. He wants to say that it's enough if you're happy, beside him right now.

As if you couldn't be happy elsewhere. As if he could be.

He can't handle thinking this way anymore, so he looks away. Just for a moment. Just to take some breaths and be something close to functional.

That's his big mistake.

The second you cry out, he turns back. You've been knocked to the ground by some staggering man, who trips over your leg and lands against a trash can. He must have come from the bar down the road because he reeks of bottom-shelf liquor.

"Son of a bitch!" The man growls. "Watch it! Watch where you're fucking going! You think you own the fucking street?"

"Fuck you!" You respond, trying to push yourself up off the ground. You hiss and stop, bringing your hand up to see that the palm is a scraped mess.

The drunk man mumbles some more curses at you and, in a fit of dionysian inspiration, kicks you.

It's not a hard blow. He's hammered, and totally out of shape besides. And maybe he never meant to hurt you at all—maybe he's just being childish and weird, his inhibitions drowned by a night of heavy drinking.

It doesn't matter to your friend.

His body has moved, he realizes, as he stares down at a pulpy mess. It used to be a face. His knuckles are raw, split from overuse. It feels like nothing at all. You're hurt, though, and the perpetrator is still breathing, so he needs to do something about that.

Without a hand gripping his collar, the drunk man splatters on the ground. He doesn't have the wherewithal to protect himself from further attacks, so with no resistance, your friend can just swing his foot into a perfectly vulnerable stomach. He does. He does it again. And again. And in the middle of this, even in his high-running emotions, he finds a sense of clarity that he's rarely afforded. Finally, someone pays the price for touching you. What a relief it is to have something nice and solid absorbing all the rage that he's always stuffing down.

You have apparently been calling his name nonstop. He only notices now as he's being yanked back by the arm. Like a spell is wearing off, he hears your voice. You sound far away, at first, the way you do in dreams. As he becomes aware of his pounding heart and aching knuckles, your muffled voice becomes clear.

"What the hell are you doing? Stop! You'll kill him!"

He's obedient, if you recall, so he stops. He turns to you, panting and shaking out his hand. Strangely, you flinch and back up. Your eyes are wide, your mouth pressed shut.

You've...never looked at him that way. He's irritated and embarrassed you, but nothing he's done has ever scared you.

He should worry about this, but he can't help smiling. You're so cute when you're frightened. You belong in his arms, where he can keep you safe.

He pulls you into him and squeezes you tight. As much as you do tremble, there's not an ounce of resistance from you as he does this. You are having the same epiphany is him right now—that he would never hurt you, that anyone who did would pay sevenfold.

But while he is imagining himself as your knight, you're thinking of all the strangers and friends who may be unkind, however briefly, to you. You're thinking of how sharp this man's memory is and how casually you complained about exes or classmates or coworkers when you thought everything was okay.

"It's okay. You're safe," he whispers into your hair, relishing the close contact.

He's going to stay good for you. It'll be easy now, knowing where to put all the excess energy.

#yandere angst #yandere x reader #yandere #male yandere x gn reader #male yandere x reader

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loveshotzz · 5 months

Text

A sneak peek of part one to make up for not posting today. 🎄coming 12/20

series masterlist

Moving with the flow of the crowd, the beginning jingle of Mariah Carey’s ‘All I Want For Christmas Is You’ starts to play, and with the grand spectacle that the holiday decorations are every year, it’s hard not to feel all those emotions of nostalgia they’re trying to pull from you, making you roll your eyes singing along with her under your breath.

The big water fountain in the middle of the men’s department comes into view from the tops of bobbing heads, one of the many physical markers in this building you’ve had to use so you don’t get lost in the retail maze they’ve created letting you know that you’re close to your destination. Weaving through the sea of people, you try to gear up to break free from the human traffic jam, the signs pointing to the escalators in your sights. His panicked voice is what you hear first, an obvious friendliness still hidden underneath it despite the way it shakes every time you hear him say “excuse me?”

Your eyes search for the owner, and when you find him, regret buries itself deep in your gut when they land on his face.

A perfect mess of dark chestnut hair, with tips that look like they were dipped in honey sits on top of his head. The hints of gold hidden inside shimmer under the lights, as it curls wildly behind his ears. It almost looks styled that way, that is until you see his big hand run through it twice in the span of a few seconds. Warm brown eyes squint as he turns in a full circle glancing between his phone and the signs the point to the city street exits on either side of him. The hoards of people surrounding him completely ignoring his existence as he looks around painfully lost.

His nose is sharp, just like his jaw that’s dusted with the faint hint of a five o’clock shadow. The two prominent moles that sit side by side on his cheek stick out on his unseasonably sun kissed skin that seems to glow against the dark maroon color of his sweater. It’s snug across a broad chest, just like the washed out black jeans that fit a light too well around his thighs. His chocolate colored peacoat looks tailored to fit his biceps, with shiny gold buttons that match the buckle on his russet leather loafers, and the chain that dangles from around his neck.

You watch him try to ask a few friendly faces for help, only receiving a shrug and a half smile by the ones that actually acknowledge him. He mutters something that sounds sarcastic to himself as you get closer, his hands moving animatedly before he huffs pinching the bridge of his nose.

Maybe it’s the Christmas decorations, or the Mariah Carey, or maybe it’s just the fact that you’d rather take pity on a handsome stranger than go to your job. Whatever reason it is, you decide to make the stupid mistake to help him.

“Hey,” you greet timidly, getting just close enough to smell the cedar and cinnamon that seems to cling to the expensive wool of his coat, ignoring the way your stomach flips because of course he smells good right?

“Are you lost?”

He doesn’t hear you over the internal battle going on inside his head, not even registering that someone is finally stopping to offer the help he’d just been pleading for, quietly grumbling, ‘you wanted to move to the city, now you can’t even find your way through a damn store’ to himself.

You clear your throat before it can get anymore awkward, alerting him of your presence while letting your curious gaze wander up his tall broad frame. Those squinted brown eyes look big now as they meet yours, and you can see green inside them that you couldn’t before and it sparkles brighter than the tinsel hanging from the boughs behind him.

Yeah, you’ve made a huge mistake.

He blinks a few times, before a wide smile stretches across his face somehow making him even more handsome as he reveals a set of perfectly straight teeth. The smile pushes up his cheeks, and crinkles the skin around his eyes, and you watch all the aggravation from before melt off of his perfectly sculpted face and you wish you could go back those few minutes in time and abort the mission. This is no damsel in distress.

“Hi” is all that he says, peony’s painting his cheeks as he runs his hand through his thick hair again and it looks even softer up close.

“Hey,” You giggle, nerves taking over and you want to pinch yourself for it, “I just wanted to see if you needed some help, you look a little lost.”

You try to seem indifferent when you catch the way his gaze roams quickly down your body, thankful you did laundry last night and had on your tight fitting work slacks today that showed off your curves.

“So lost!” He groans, the blush on his cheeks deepening with the tips of his ears. “If I’m being completely honest with you, I don’t even know what floor I’m on.”

You try to hide the way you snort, slapping your palm over your mouth.

“Hey, be nice!” He laughs, trying his best to fight it to put on a hurt expression, “this is like, my first time here, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” you try to fight off you smile, “I didn’t mean to laugh at you —“

“Steve.” He interjects with a grin, those perfect teeth biting at his full bottom lip as he sticks out one of his hands for you to take, a gold band wrapped around his middle finger you didn’t notice before gleaming when it hits the light.

“Well, Steve,” You try not to laugh, which ends up being easy to do when you slip your hand into his and watch it disappear behind his long fingers when they wrap around it, “you’re on the first floor if you can believe it.

“That’s fucking embarrassing, wow.” He groans, letting your hand go to run his palm down his face, and you hate that you feel the loss in your gut, “sorry I didn’t mean to cuss.

“I’ll let it slide this time,” You tease with a wink, enjoying the way it only makes the color on his face deepen. “Where are you trying to go? I work on the seventh floor. I might be able to take you on my way.”

It takes Steve a minute to formulate an answer to your offer, still stuck on the fact a complete stranger was being so nice to him, and the silence between you goes on just long enough to make you second guess everything.

“Or I could just try and give you directions if that’s more comfortable for you.” You offer, adjusting the straps of your backpack nervously.

“I’m trying to get to the women’s department,” Steve finally blurts out, sensing the shift in your energy and quickly tries to recover with another card through his hair and a crooked smile, “specifically the handbags, and I absolutely think you should take me.”

His gaze narrows the color in his eyes darkening into something more flirtatious than nervous.

“Who knows how long it’d take me to get there without a beautiful, clearly smart woman such yourself to help me anyway.”

Your stomach does that thing that you hate again, and all the heat in your body licks at your cheeks like flames. You can’t remember the last time a man actually used the word beautiful. Hot? Absolutely. Cute? Sure. Pretty? Yeah, a few times, but never beautiful. It sits in your chest where it blossoms into another painfully big smile that pushes your cheeks up even more, and you have to look away from his face for a moment when he matches it with his own.

“O- okay, if you just, uh wanna follow me?” Words get lost on your tongue and it comes out more shy than you would’ve liked, but you turn on your heel before you can think too hard about it when he gestures you forward.

You hear him mutter ‘are you kidding me?’ under his breath as you lead him to the escalators just around the corner, making him realize how close they were this whole time and you wonder just how long he was actually looking for them. The smell of mint hits your nose as you pass the Frango chocolate stand and it mixes with the spice of his cologne as he trails close behind. Butterflies threatening to break from cocoons hearing the way his steps match yours.

He stops next to you as you come to halt to wait your turn to hop onto the moving metal steps. You look up at him and there’s an awkwardness that threatens to fill the small space between you that has you giving him a tight lipped smile that he returns with the kind of confidence that makes your palms sweat and you have to look away.

“I say we make our move after white puffer coat comin’ up here.” His voice startles you when it comes out low, close enough to the shell of your ear that you swear you can feel the whisper of his lips. Spearmint stings your nose from the gum that snaps between his teeth, and the heat of his breath makes goosebumps jump along the back of your neck.

Why did you do this?

You meet his gaze from the corner of your eye, letting him see the playful glint that dances in them before giving a curt nod of your head.

“On the count of three…” You play along, despite everything inside you telling you to stop flirting back and it makes Steve’s whole face light up, long fingers flexing at his side with the need to find yours again.

“One..” He starts, and your eyes meet ‘white puffer coat’ who’s now only a few steps away before finding Steve’s again who’s stare very obviously never left your face.

“Two..” You giggle trying to hide the way your body starts to buzz and if it wasn’t for Steve’s giddy expression you’d be more embarrassed than you actually are.

“Thre-“ His final count gets cut off by the feeling of your fingers wrapping around his, tugging him onto the stairs early with a loud cackle that has you throwing your head back and he swears the sound tilts his world off its axis.

His cheeks dust pink under the bright light looking down his nose at you with a wide smile that shows all his teeth. An expensive loafer sits wedged between your work shoes and the other on the step above, caging you against the side as you ride up to the next floor, and he’s close enough for you to see a smattering of more freckles that dot the bridge of his nose and the side of his neck, even one on the tip of his earlobe.

He’s still holding your hand.

#my writing #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagines

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thewalkingwillowtree · 5 months

Text

Safe Haven

Series Part Listing Found Here

Neteyam x Original Na'vi Female Character

Summery: Seeking refuge, Xilä and her father venture to the lands of the Omatikaya clan, in the hopes that the Toruk Makto would be generous in allowing them to stay. This is her story about not only finding her strength, but finding love.

Warning: This story contains smut, violence & abuse (please don't read if these topics will affect you)

Some characters have been aged up. Neteyam in particular is 24.

Xilä is my own creation.

Warning! Gentle reminder about my previous warnings y’all. This part is heavy handed on the violence and mentions of blood. Also, very brief mention/implication of suicide (not any of our MC’s).

Part 17- Vengeance

The feast was almost over and Xi was running out of time. She had run through every possible scenario in her mind on how to get out of what was to come…what Su’ko had planned for her.

Eywa.

Help me.

She stared out at a sea of pity, losing count of how many Na’vi were scattered about the cave. Li’ona had always been a massive clan, and while they were far fewer in numbers now, there was still a shocking mass.

Whatever RDA base or ship the Li’ona people had scavenged was evident. There was a plethora of human made objects dispersed all over the large cave. Everything from rusting ship parts, to vehicle seats- their padding spilling out from its torn upholstery to even those tiny, bright coloured sticks the humans used to clean their teeth.

In her peripheral, the glint of Su’ko’s staff caught her attention. It had a sharp pointed blade which she was sure could pierce skin easily…if she could just reach it.

‘Don’t be stupid,’ her mind mocked, ‘you wouldn’t make it very far…even if you killed him.’

A frantic shout for help interrupted her thoughts. The distressed form of a man appeared, hysterically yelling about his dying father and Xi recognized him from his cloak.

He had been one of the men who’d accompanied Su’ko- one of his rouge warrior's who’d held her down as they forced her to watch her father be strung up.

Xilä observed that most of the clan merely blinked in his direction, almost as if it were a usual occurrence.

Was no one going to help his father?

Did they have no healer?

When no one came forth, she grabbed her chance. “I can help! Let me help, I am a healer!”

Well...as good as one.

All eyes landed on her, and Xilä held her breath as she waited for Su’ko give his permission. Instead, he fisted her hair painfully, titling her to face his menacing glare.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I-” she licked her lips nervously, “but I can help.”

“Su’ko…chief, please,” the man begged.

Su’ko’s gaze darted around at his clan, they were all watching in interest now, waiting for his response. Relenting, the Li’ona leader released her with an annoyed nudge.

“Go,” he ordered, tossing the end of the chain for the man to lead her away.

Deep into the cave and far from the rest of the clan, she followed when he entered an alcove. It was warm and reeked of stale sweat and urine. The rattling of the rusty chain around her ankle pierced the quiet of the dim space and Xi wondered for a split second if she’d been led into a trap.

Peering through the darkness, it took her a moment to make out a shifting lump on the ground. Said lump made her jump when it suddenly gave a loud, wheezing cough.

Rough hands dragged and pushed Xi to her knees, barking, “Do something! He’s dying!”

Xilä shot the man a foul glare over her shoulder. “My hands are still bound! I cannot work like this.”

He hesitated, but then the sound of another cough made him quickly cut the ties off her wrists.

As she rubbed the raw skin uncomfortably, she said, “I need light, water, and medicine if you have. There was supposed to be some in the sack that-”

“I’ll get it,” he snapped before dashing off, pulling the length of the long chain with him which rattled rather loudly before it tapered off, making her hastily extend her leg so she didn’t go lurching behind wherever it disappeared to.

Once the chain stopped, she shifted onto her knees and waited until another round of hacking from the ill figure ended. “Hello,” she tried.

“H’mdell, leave me.” The voice was harsh, hoarse and drenched in age.

“He- he’s gone to get a few things…I’m Xilä, I’m here to help. Do you mind- can I check your vitals? I’m a healer,” she whispered as calmly as possible.

“Xilä…I don’t know any Xi- wait…Muiä’s girl? Is that you?”

At his question she shuffled closer, wincing at the twinge in her ankle. “Yes,” she replied shakily. “Will you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Bah. I am fine. Only dying a slow and painful death. Why are you-” he broke off into another fit.

Xi pursed her lips when the elder’s breath quickened. Her brow furrowed when she took note of sweat glossing his heavily aged face yet he was swamped with what looked like three layers of worn leathers.

She reached out and pressed two fingers against the flat of his wrist, sharply inhaling when she felt his ice cold skin and faint beating pulse.

“When was the last time you ate or drank anything?”

H’mdell entered just then, bathing the room in warm light with a flame he secured into the rocky wall. He grunted a garble of words as he tossed a hefty medium sized sack at her. It was a mess of random herbs, tonics and instruments her father had stolen from the Omaticaya.

With the light, Xi swallowed her horror at the clear sight of the face staring back at her. The elder was gaunt, skeletal-like to be exact.

“He needs food, and clean, drinkable water. When was the last time he had anything?” she asked his son as she siphoned through the cloth bag, hoping it held what she needed.

“Not for days, he refuses- the stubborn fool,” the man replied with a pointed glare at his coughing father. “Do something already!” he bellowed at her, causing her to flinch and drop the container of powdered kyntser she’d been holding when he raised a threatening hand.

“H’mdell,” the elder rasped, “leave us. Su’ko will not be happy if you are late for your watch again. You know what happened the last time,” he said with a weak nod to the man’s left hand.

Xilä bit her cheek when she saw two missing fingers- only a thumb and index finger was left.

H’mdell simply grunted in response. Taking hold of the end of her shackle, he wedged it tight around an odd heavy scrap of metal that looked to be part of a machine. “Fix him. I’ll kill you if you don’t,” he threatened before finally leaving for his watch duty.

Waiting a few breaths, Xilä moved slowly as she tended to the elder who she learned was called Askadu.

Contrary to growing up in the deadlands, Xi had never really been given the freedom to roam the clan. Being overly sheltered, it was her first time actually seeing most of the unnamed faces.

The quiet and distance from the rest of the clan- distance from Su’ko specifically, gave her time to think, to plan.

Askadu stared at her the entire time, calculating gaze never leaving her face as she poked and prodded his ribs and stomach, ear pressing against his bony chest before she began to meticulously combine ingredients into a mortar and pestle.

“Why have you returned?” he eventually asked, surprising her.

“I have not returned,” she snapped, “I was taken from my home…against my will.”

“And just where is this home of yours?” he snarked. “Save the bruises, you look well kept. Sunkissed skin if I ever did see…no longer flesh and bone like the lot of us,” he commented, appraising her choice of clothing- or lack of, through cloudy gray eyes.

“The Omaticaya took me in. They are home.”

“The Omaticaya? Have you come from the Blue Flute clan then? The legendary Toruk Makto’s?”

“Yes,” she replied, pausing her stirring to frown at his genuine surprise and need of this information.

“That is not what Su’ko told us,” he muttered to himself faintly, but she heard it all the same.

Interesting.

They both fell quiet again, lost in their own thoughts as she continued to fret over him, giving him a slew of ill tasting remedies, then cleansing and treating his open bed sores as best as possible.

“What is it like?” he asked. “The forest.”

She pondered for a second before responding, smiling in memory. “It’s beautiful, something from a dream…The forest, it’s always alive, it glows, thrives and there’s forever something new to discover. I've lived there for some time now, but... I don’t think I’d ever get used to how wonderful it is”

“Hm.”

“Askadu,” she started, encouraged by his question to ask her own, “what happened to these lands? Why has Eywa forsaken Li’ona? You must know for sure. I heard it was once a place that all other clans would envy.”

The elder gave a dry laugh that ended in a fit of hacks and heaves. “Oh it was. It was,” he said as if remembering. “One could only assume my dear. I’m sure you’ve heard the theories. I’d gander it was greed and hate that brought us here, however.”

“How so?”

“Corruption,” he said ominously. “We once had all we could ever want…but then a drought came, far worse than any we’d ever encountered before. Instead of planning and conserving, we wasted…hoarded, took it all for granted by being selfish and unkind to our own. And when the lands became sparse, the evil awoke.”

“Evil?”

He fixed Xilä with a meaningful glare. “Hunger and thirst can turn any soul into an unrecognizable beast… beasts so wicked they no longer care, they no longer feel… they no longer exist… We can guess all we’d like, play the victims to make ourselves feel better, but it is no great secret why the Great Mother truly deserted us…We were our own undoing.”

Askadu breathed heavily and Xi wondered when was the last time he spoke this much, she offered him another sip of the slosh his son had brought.

It took everything within her to not rush this, to not make it obvious what she was doing, but she needed to gain his trust, and fast.

“Tell me child, has Eywa led you here to be part of our end? I can sense that our time here has run its course. You are here to join us then?”

A shudder ran up her spine at his chilling words. She shook her head slowly, grip loose on the cloth she’d been dabbing to his skin. “Eywa has nothing to do with me being here. I was taken against my will, remember? My father,” she sucked a breath, “he made a deal with your leader. And now Su’ko says he will claim me.”

“Ahhh, does he? And does he know you are already taken by an Omaticaya bastard?” he pondered in amusement, weak fingers lifting to flick at the chord of beads in her hair she’d been fidgeting with every now and again- Neteyam’s gifted beads precisely.

“Hmmm. You are tainted, but I suppose he wouldn’t care though, no? Gone were the days when one whore was enough for a man. Loyalty holds no meaning here anymore.”

Ignoring his vile words, Xilä couldn’t wait any longer. She was ready to strike, ready to put her plans in place.

With a glance behind her to make sure they were truly alone, she softened her voice, “You clearly don’t agree with the way he is doing things then. Help me, Askadu. Please.”

Askadu laughed. “Afraid you will end up like the rest then?”

“What do you mean? There were others? What happened to them?”

"They are dead," he replied nonchalantly, "Su'ko can be a...brutal lover."

Xi swallowed a wave of nausea. "Then help me."

Askadu turned angry. "I am afraid there is nothing I can do- and do not be fooled girl, I am no better than the animals out there. I will not fight for you- couldn’t even if I tried. I have already accepted my fate.. Maybe it's time you do too.”

“No. No I refuse to give up. And I don't need you to fight for me, no that's not what I'm asking. It's something else…please. Don't you want the last thing you do in this world to be something good? Help me, Askadu."

A stifling silence gave way for the grunts and hoots echoing through the walls of the cave.

“Tell me something, your mate, he is… what? A warrior?”

Xi frowned but answered all the same. “Yes. One of the greatest. He is the clan’s future Olo'eyktan,” she said proudly.

Askadu froze in shock before schooling his features. “Kin of Turok Makto… My my, see how you’ve risen,” he mocked. “He will be coming for you then? I can’t imagine having you taken away from your mate sits well with him- with the clan. How sure are you of this?”

Thumb and forefinger pressing into her beads for good measure, she nodded. “I’m sure. He’s coming, my husband is coming.” She knew it in her heart, there was no doubt.

“Very well. If I were to...help you," he bit out as if he'd eaten something vile, "I want something in return.”

Xilä’s relief was prominent. “Yes, of course. What would you like?”

He nudged his head to the medical sack. “Give me something strong to take, something that will do the trick quickly.”

Not understanding, Xi merely blinked at the bag.

Askadu rolled his eyes. “Your mate is coming for you, Xilä. Do you think he will simply walk in alone and take you without a fight? When the time comes, I will die on my own terms. So I’ll say it again. Give. Me. Something. Strong.”

A deep moan escaped Neteyam. “Fucking hell,” he murmured against Xi’s lips.

She giggled at his reaction, grin wide and proud. “Was that good?” she asked. “Yeeeah that was good,” she teased with a smirk, seeing his heated gaze, “I’m getting better at this kissing thing, I think.”

“Now who’s getting cocky?” he laughed in response, ducking down to suck her bottom lip into his mouth.

Her thighs squeezed his sides in response when he properly claimed her lips again, unable to help himself as his palms caressed as much free skin as they could without crossing that very thin line of inappropriateness.

Xilä, the greedy little thing, whined when he teased her in return by keeping his lips purposely closed. She bit his bottom lip in impatience, allowing for their tongues to dance passionately.

But then he was taking charge from her once more.

Neteyam tasted.

Inhaled.

Devoured.

She gave and he took.

They kissed until they were both bursting and lightheaded. Breaking apart, his lips trailed across her jawline and down the arch of her neck, desperate to stay close- addicted.

Since they’d recently started this dangerous game, it was getting increasingly difficult to stop each time.

He sucked at her pulse point, a spot he’d quickly come to realize was overly sensitive and prone to produce the most intoxicating sounds from her lips if he worked it just right.

Encouraged by her wanton moan, he did it again, and again, and again, practically feasting on her sweet smelling skin- tail happily thumping behind him while she gasped and panted as she clung to him.

Neteyam felt drunk off of her returning affections. He loved when her hips would begin to roll on their own, as if seeking more but not knowing what. He loved how her fingers would grip the skin of his back, his nape, his biceps, egging him on with breathy whines and mewls.

Only kissing.

That was the rule he’d set when they’d started this…and of course, he fucking hated it. He knew she did too. He knew that even though she was inexperienced, she was ever eager and always begging for more.

They were both fools though. The only kissing rule was beginning to blur. Hands began to roam further each time, bare skin was tasted and Neteyam, was always painfully rock hard by the end. Hiding it from her was becoming a task of its own nature.

The snap of a twig broke him from his spell, making him dart his head up and around at the forest surrounding them.

“What is it?” she asked, trying to see over his shoulder from their splayed position he'd rolled them to, but unable to since his heavy torso prevented her.

Neteyam listened for a few beats then jerked his chin. “Just a hexapede, over there, see?”

“Oh,” she gasped, “Teyam, it’s the same one we saw a few weeks ago. Look! She had her baby!”

Xi pushed at his chest so she could sit up to better see the knobby legged baby following its mother.

He grumbled, but shuffled out from his spot between her thighs to lean against a thick root of the tree they were lounging under. While she stared in awe at the two creatures, Neteyam took his fill of her. He wished he had a camera to save this moment forever.

She was beautiful, ethereal.

Skin glowing from the illumination around them, she was all soft lines, bright eyes and everything that was good in his entire world.

A sudden rush of overflowing affection that he’d never felt before made his heart leap.

Love…?

Love.

He waited for that thump-thump beat of panic over his realization…but it never came.

And then just as fast as that warmth of feeling showed itself, it was suddenly dampened by reality.

“What?” she asked with a little huff, amused when she’d caught him staring.

‘I love you,’ he thought. ‘But I’m not supposed to…’

“Nothing,” he said instead of the truth, “come here, sweetheart,” he begged quietly and albeit needy- a side of himself he’d never known existed.

‘Damn her.’

Pulling her into his arms with a contented sigh, he nuzzled her cheek and kissed under her jaw affectionately, feather light with hidden meaning, far more intimate than their usual “heated or passion” filled kisses.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to fall in love with her.

For now he’d take what he could get, he’d pretend that there was no deadline- no pressing demand waiting for him to deal with. But fuck if it didn’t hurt to think that he’d have to give her up.

But what if he couldn’t? What if he didn’t want to give her up? He was in love with her…soul wrenchingly in love.

‘Damn her.’

“Don’t make me do any more drills today,” she pouted as she snuggled further into his arms, thighs draped over each of his from when she’d plopped into his lap.

“No?” he chuckled, playing with her hair. “What do you want me to make you do instead then?”

“This, just this right here,” she sighed happily, hugging him around his waist as her cheek made a home on his chest. “Please.”

Another thing that made him secretly happy- she was much more comfortable with initiating physical contact now.

Recently, and on more than one occasion, she’d forgotten they were in public, and while he’d pretend to be upset and mumble under his breath to remind her, he loved when she’d light up at seeing him, loved how she’d plaster herself in his arms or seek him out- just to be close, just to be near him in any way possible.

“Alright, fine. Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to her hair while his arms tightened around her in return, “whatever you want.”

Neteyam tried to force himself to reign in his desires but thoughts of “What if” ran wild in his mind.

Maybe he could try to persuade the council to give him more time?

Maybe Xi would say yes if he asked to court her?

Maybe…somehow, someway she’d become his mate, his wife?

Neteyam shook his head, he didn’t want to get ahead of himself, he’d have to figure it all out later.

But for now, out here in their own world... he could pretend that she belonged to him just as much as he belonged to her…

“Son, you should get some sleep. You’re gonna need it,” Jake advised, chasing away Neteyam’s vivid memory.

He pursed his lips beneath the thick leathered mask that hid his face as he heard his father approach. “Dad-”

“Don’t give me that. It’s been days, kid. You haven’t been eating either and it’s got your mother worried sick. You’ll be of no use to Xi if you’re sleep deprived and weak as shit. We’re gearing up to infiltrate these savages tomorrow with no clue what to expect. I suggest you get your ass to camp, eat and get some fucking sleep, because so help me, Neteyam, I will pull rank and not allow out there.”

“Yes, sir,” Neteyam muttered dutifully, reigning in his annoyance yet knowing his father was right all the same.

He tore his gaze away from the vast, crimson tinted horizon he’d been staring at for the last hour and trekked down the stony mound, back to their camp of warriors- tail limp between his legs like a chided kit.

Casted by the shadows of the night, their makeshift shelters were hidden amongst a rocky valley. They were close, and having come such a long way, they’d stop to rest and recover for the night.

By tomorrow, they would finally enter the deadlands. Norm’s trace on the aircraft had died two days ago. He prayed to Eywa that it wasn't a bad sign, but suffice to say, they had a general idea of where they were heading by now.

So much happened in the past couple of days.

They didn’t leave home immediately after their update from Stephan. Strategy meetings were held, weapons and provisions for the journey were assembled, and every seamstress, weaver and capable sewer worked tirelessly to equip all warriors who were about to set out.

And thank Eywa that they had.

The heat had been a surprise to them all of course. They hadn’t even reached the “deadlands” officially per say, but yet a simmering wave had them all scrambling to cloak and cover themselves in protective wear.

Neteyam stared at his own covered feet as he walked. They were a nuisance in his mind, but they were a necessity. Who was he to complain?

His boots were sturdy and well insulated. Sal had made them, having stayed up for almost half a night before she tackled getting Jxo’s done.

And Jxo- well, warrior or not, there was no talking the man out from going with them. Neteyam had never seen his mother-in-law look so fragile when she’d learned this. Sal had hugged him tight and begged him to bring her husband and daughter back in one piece.

Their fleet flew for what felt like an eternity to him- days of travel that had his muscles sore, tired and aching. He glanced at the mess of tangled ikrans some feet away. Buddy and Journey in particular were entwined as they slept, and if it were not for their contrasting colours, Neteyam wouldn��t know where one began and the other ended.

Journey, the poor thing seemed to sense what was wrong. She was a stubborn beast, refusing to stay behind, nipping at his feet and tail until he surrendered and released her from the enclosure he’d been trying to lock her in.

As he forced himself to swallow a couple bites of food and swigs of water, Neteyam peered around at the tired eyes of the men and women so ready to fight by his side.

They were here for him, for Xilä. He had to say something…he needed them to know how much it meant to him.

With a heavy heart Neteyam made his way to the center of their makeshift encampment. He didn’t have to do much or wait too long for all to fall quiet and give their full attention.

“I can not help but feel such gratitude in my heart for each one of you. It's not lost on me, the sacrifices you've all made– leaving behind your families, your comfort and the warmth of your own bed. And for that sacrifice, I want to express my deepest thanks. Your willingness to endure this journey with me, it speaks volumes… My Xilä, my mate. Thank you for helping me get her back home.”

“You’d do it for any one of us,” Tasam called out with a firm nod, arms folded as he stood tall.

“Xilä is Omaticaya. Of course we’d fight to get her back,” W’aote chimed in.

“She is our future Tsahìk!”

“We are with you brother.”

One by one masked faces called out to him. His heart swelled, wishing Xi were here to see. Neytiri approached him where he stood, clasping their hands together as she murmured her own heartwarming words.

Later that night, while most caught some sleep, Neteyam sought out his brother who was one of the few keeping watch.

“Hey,” Lo’ak murmured in greeting, scooching across to allow Neteyam a seat on the high, flat boulder he was perched on.

“Hey.”

“What’s up?”

Neteyam plucked out his lucky dagger to fiddle with. He smirked at its still flower patterned painted handle, he couldn't find it within himself to remove Tuk's artwork.

"I need a favor…a big one," he asked as he twirled the blade skillfully, making flips and spins with practiced ease.

“Yeah, bro. Anything.”

“Dad’s right, we planned as much as we could, but we don’t really know what we're heading into… either way, I know it’s going to be a fight, I don’t expect there’d be no blood shed…” he adjusted the heavy cloak that kept him protected from the heat- it was ridiculously uncomfortable, that and the fucking pants.

“I’ve made up my mind on how I want this to go down. We’re sticking to the plans in place of course but… I need you to prioritize Xi for me.”

Lo’ak frowned. “Bro-”

“I want you to find her as soon as you can and get her out of there. Keep her safe. If Stephan’s ship is secure when we get there tomorrow, take her there.”

“Neteyam, the plan was that you would-”

“Please, Lo’ak… I need you to do this for me. Just get her as far from that place as possible. No matter what. I need you to promise me.”

Lo’ak swallowed deeply, glowing eyes set on his brother’s hidden profile. “Yeah. Yeah, okay, I’ll do it.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re planning something, aren’t you?”

Neteyam bit the inside of his cheek and shrugged. “They fucked up. So now they're all going to pay.”

A miserable three days had passed before it finally happened.

And oh how it happened.

Between Xilä and Askadu, the whispers were spread throughout the clan- the truth, things they didn’t know, things that had been deliberately kept from them.

It started with a sly comment that earned her a backhand from the person who’d brought her a “meal”, someone’s leftovers consisting of rock-seed beans that had been mashed into a paste.

An underhanded comment to Askadu’s son, a sassy comeback to Vhin who had pulled on her hair hard in retaliation, and the best of best- a tear filled conversion to the cave’s known gossiper, a woman named J'ahki.

Those small seeds of doubt were planted and spread throughout the clan, creating hushed huddles and intense pockets of conversation- tension and anger building amongst the Li’ona people.

They doubted her words at first, which was naturally understandable. But the Na’vi of Li’ona were a demanding folk. They had a code- and sure they treated each other worse than shit, but they believed in their chief- the man who’d fed them lies.

Xi’s plan was simple- create chaos and wait them out. If she couldn’t fight them physically, she’d get them where she knew mattered.

Get them to turn on themselves, or better yet- Su’ko.

She didn’t know exactly how long the journey had been by the aircraft- she’d been unconscious for most of it anyway. She also didn’t know the exact number of days she’d been taken from home- from Neteyam, but she knew how long she’d been in this dreadful cave.

Three days, and now judging by the change of the guard she’d come to memorize, evening had come…evening bringing the third night.

Three days and three nights of miserable, piss poor living conditions and lack of food, water and sleep.

It was the nights that had her worried the most. Xi had refused to close her eyes in fear of anything happening to her while she slept.

Askadu had played his part too in helping her however- not just spreading rumors also. Overplaying his illness when needed so that she could stay at his side during the day was more than she could ask for. She could tell that it irked Su’ko.

The first night she’d been lucky, having the opportunity to care for the elderly man. The second night however, Su’ko had every intention of moving ahead with his plan.

And so, she’d been dragged through the clan kicking and screaming, putting up a hell of a fight until they reached his personal alcove. She scratched the fuck out of his face, kneeing him right in the balls when he'd gotten her pinned.

His roar of pain and anger was deafening when she gained the upper hand by biting down on his ear, holding firm. Xi was feral, she clamped onto the flesh until blood coated her mouth and tip was ripped right off.

When Su'ko had stumbled back, hands cupping his gushing injury, his eyes were wide in disbelief? Shock? Fear? Xi didn't care, she simply stood to her full hight, spat the tip of his ear and a mouthful of blood right at him, stance widening as she readied herself for another round.

Su'ko had gone livid, blade pulled from his hip with every intention to kill her she knew.

But as luck or fate or Eywa would have it, a land quake erupted, rocking and shaking the entire cave with a powerful vengeance. Dust clouded the air and rubble fell from the ceiling as people scrambled in screams of terror.

Xi had been abandoned, still chained and unable to escape even if she wanted to. Instead, she curled into a ball beneath the scrapped sheet of metal she’d been shackled to.

On that night, three of Li’ona’s people died.

When all went calm again, Su’ko had his ear tended to by an overly worried and all too happy to help Vhin. Then, he and many others worked tirelessly at the cave’s entrance, desperately trying to clear away the rocks and rubble that had filled their only way out- trapping them from the outside.

And then came tonight.

The night it all went spiraling.

“SU’KO!”

From what she now called, “her seat” a ledge a few feet above the rest of the clan, but lower than Su’ko’s, a shackled Xilä watched as an angry Na’vi hostilely approached the Li’ona leader who’d just entered the cave.

Xi prayed that her plan had finally worked. She didn’t think she’d be as lucky again tonight since just before he left, Su’ko had threatened to claim her upon his return, then kill her for her actions.

“You’ve been keeping secrets from us, oh mighty leader,” the man snarked sarcastically.

Su’ko and his band of warriors had just returned from their all day hunt, which unsurprisingly, by the look of things, wielded only two measly skinny dirt-vermin.

“I’d watch my tone if I were you, Balynn. What is this about?” Su’ko asked, already on the alert as he noticed the accusatory glares scattered around the cave, some not as obvious while others were blazing in blatancy towards him.

“The girl, Su’ko…Talk is,” he turned and shot her a loathsome glare with a pointed finger, “she’s an Omatikaya’s whore. She’s fucking claimed by Toruk Makto’s boy.”

“Lies!” Su’ko roared, baring fanged teeth as he dropped his kill to step forward.

“She told me so herself,” Vhin chipped in unhelpfully- hip cocked and arms folded, “what does it matter though, Balynn? Su’ko makes the ru-”

“Silence bitch. It matters. All of you. Fools!” he hissed at the leader in particular. “Don’t you know what this means? She is Omatikaya! Taken… claimed before Eywa. They see her as one of their own.”

By the look on their leader’s face, realization seemed to dawn upon him, he caught what the man was trying to say. Su'ko fiddled with the bandage that was poorly administered to his ear, face morphing into a pained wince before he was masking it again.

Xi thought he was one tough bastard. He hadn't even taken anything for the pain.

“We should just kill her!” someone called out.

“String her up!” another yelled.

“No!” Balynn bellowed. “If you kill her, they’ll kill us all. They have a fucking army! I should know! I fought with them against the wicked ones years ago! They have weapons, demon made weapons! Faster, and far more deadly than an arrow.”

An echoing dread of silence rippled through the cave.

“Give her back,” Balynn seethed, “you have to.”

Su’ko’s jaw ticked- anger clouding his face. “I don’t like the way you’re questioning my authority, old man. You know what happens when I’m dishonored. Maybe I should string you up instead.”

“You fool. String me up all you like. But just know, it is you who will be the end of us all! They won’t let you keep her- they won’t let you keep your life!”

“Then a war will be upon them… we will fight! We will not let them enter our lands!”

A deafening roar of cheers and hoots ensued at the prospect of war, causing Xilä to swallow nervously. She didn’t want anyone from her clan getting hurt over her- especially Neteyam.

“They don’t need to know she’s here, though. They would leave if they see that. Just kill her, she is a waste anyway,” Vhin suggested, lust filled eyes falling on the man who was so keen on keeping Xilä. “Let me do it, Olo'eyktan,” she volunteered eagerly, hand reaching for the knife attached to her hip, "I could do it quickly, or slowly if you prefer-"

“No. Leave it!” he snapped. “We feast,” Su’ko ordered, clearly trying to distract and derail the conversation.

“And just what will we feast on?” a woman questioned. “Those vermin will not make a dent in our stomachs. You promised us food Su’ko, a bountiful.”

“Exactly! Where’s the rest of the food, Su’ko?” someone else demanded. “You never said that the sack you brought back was from the Omatikaya either.”

“How many other lies have you told us?!” another accused.

Su’ko blanched at the questioning, face growing enraged as the crowd grew rowdier towards him.

An uproar of agreement and disagreement ensued. Pointed fingers, bared fangs, curses and dangerous threats flew left and right. Weapons were drawn as one by one the few still seated got to their feet.

“Where’s the rest of the water and the medicine?”

“You gave us scraps!”

“Hoarding the rest for yourself, are you?”

“You’ve lied to us! You swore your truth to this clan!”

“Lies! All lies!” an elder roared. “You are no better than that bastard T'shteyo!”

It was finally happening.

The chaos…

She and Askadu had succeeded in their plan.

“SILENCE!” A man roared. “Listen…” he said ominously, ears perked as his eyes found the cave's entrance.

And in that very moment, when all had gone quiet did they all hear it…a chilling sound from the distance. The blaring call of a horn that warned of danger…grave danger.

Wide eyes and panicked expressions replaced the hostility from before, all attention falling to their leader as if he held the answer, as if waiting for instruction.

Hurried footsteps had them all tightening their grips on the handles of their weapons.

“Su’ko!”

The entire clan watched as a panting young man- no, boy raced through the entrance- exposed face pale in fear. The teen was probably one of the last to be born of the Li’ona people.

“Chief, there are people entering the boarders,” the boy declared, fire in his eyes as if excited for the prospect of a fight. “A lot of them."

Su'ko pounded the end of his staff against the ground. "Gather your weapons, round up the beasts, we ride out before last light!"

As the clan followed his directive, he marched toward Xi and grabbed her by the face, fingers and thumb sinking painfully. "Petal, your precious beloved will die tonight. I will string him up beside your father and watch as wild beasts feast on his corpse."

Xi's eyes squinted in amusement. "You're afraid. You reek of fear," she spat through clenched teeth.

His nostrils flared.

"Su'ko! Let's go!" someone called, pulling his attention away.

Su'ko paused, untrusting eyes wavering at Xi's words. "Dhgu!" he summoned his second, "Come with me, I have a plan."

“Get him down from there,” Neteyam ordered without emotion.

“Ugh, he reeks!” Lo’ak’s face squished in disgust at the sight of T’shteyo’s pitiful form being cut down from a high jagged rock. “Damn, I wonder how long he's been up there. His own people sure fucked him up… Is he dead?”

“I hope not,” Neteyam muttered, causing his brother to shoot him a mildly alarmed look.

The rest of their fleet hung back while a small group had broken away to investigate “the body” a scout had spotted.

T’shteyo forcefully peaked through squinted eyes- skin burnt and raw. “Wa-water…w-water,” he pleaded through blood cracked lips.

Neteyam crouched in front of the crumpled heap of limbs, head tilted as his arms hung lazily between his thighs.

“Where is my wife?”

“W-wat-water.”

“Where. Is. My wife,” he growled again.

“P-pl-please,” T'shteyo sobbed, bloodied fingers crawling at the dirt, reaching towards Neteyam’s feet in desperation.

“This?” Neteyam asked, revealing his own personal pouch which was secured to his hip. He uncapped it, removed his mask and took a long slow drink. He gave a satisfied sigh in delight, “Refreshing.”

Tears welled in T'shteyo’s eyes at the sight.

“Tell me where my wife is and I’ll consider giving you a sip.”

The man licked his lips. “They t-took her. Su’ko a-and his men.”

“Where?”

“Plea-”

“WHERE!”

“Past the village. T-they said s-something about a cave,” he rasped. “That’s a-all I know.”

Neteyam turned to his father who nodded, words not needing to be said. At once the Olo'eyktan ordered two scouts to fly ahead and check the area.

The sound of his name being called had him standing once more. “What is it?” he asked his approaching father-in-law.

“I’ll do it,” the elder said with a jerk of his chin in T'shteyo’s direction.

“Jxo, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I have to…I need to,” he urged.

Neteyam hesitated. He’d been imagining this moment for days now- the moment he was finally able to kill the bastard who’d taken his mate. But Jxo, he guessed probably did need this more than him.

“Alright,” he relented, moving to the side so that Jxo could take his place. Curiously, he stood back and observed the elder’s actions.

Jxo tossed a waterskin and a parcel of food at the man before him. He waited patiently as T'shteyo scrambled without a glance upward, finishing both the water and the small meal within seconds.

“You...” T'shteyo said in shock, noticing Jxo for the first time.

“Me.”

“What are you playing at, old man?” he asked untrustingly. “Did you poison me?”

“Poison?” Jxo mused. “Oh no no no. That would be too kind of me, don’t you think? Too lenient…I just didn’t want you dying of thirst or starvation. Not while you and I have much to discuss.”

“Bro,” Lo’ak whispered to his brother, “what’s he up too?”

“No idea,” Neteyam murmured back as he too watched from the sidelines.

“Do you know what I do for my clan?” Jxo suddenly asked T'shteyo, gravelly voice calm and cool as he stooped and pulled out a rolled leather case from his pack.

“What?” T'shteyo was looking at him as if he were insane.

“I’m a woodworker. Have been since I was a boy…followed in my father’s footsteps actually. Anything you could possibly think of, I can create,” he said, “but you see carving, carving is my specialty,” he smiled- and Jxo rarely smiled, “lots of intricate work, detailed,” he emphasized as he unrolled the leather case to display an array of pointed and sharp tools and instruments.

T'shteyo’s face paled, realization drawing upon him at Jxo’s words. “Don’t-”

“Don’t what? Don’t hurt you? Don’t make you suffer? Don’t cause you pain?” Jxo asked. Face marring an angry expression, he leaned closer. “Xilä may not have my blood but she is my kid -my daughter. And you hurt her! You made her suffer, caused her pain…sold her as if she were fucking nothing!”

“N-Neteyam!” T'shteyo cried, pleading eyes falling to him, but Neteyam’s face was blank- void of any emotion as he watched on.

"He's not going to help you...see, like him, I know everything. Oh that's right, don't look so surprised. That's why I said we have much to talk about..." Jxo titled his head, scrutinizing the man, "You have physically and emotionally scarred my little girl since she was brought into this world. Did you honestly think you would get away with it?"

“Xi-Xilä, Xilä!” he whimpered then.

Neteyam was on the man before he could blink, knife drawing blood as it sank inches into his throat. “You don’t get to say her name,” he spat, murderous eyes ablaze, “You did this. I warned you, I even spared your life once. Not again. Now…now you pay.”

Crimson drops formed a small pool in the dirt between them and Neteyam had to force himself not to slit the man’s throat. “I’d kill you right this instant…but Jxo’s right…you don’t deserve a quick death.”

He shoved the pathetic Na’vi away, turning in time to spot the scouts flying back towards them.

When they’d been informed about the location of the cave, Jake began to round up the rest of their fleet, going over last minute strategies once more to include details the scouts were able to provide.

“You should go. I’m going to be here a while,” Jxo said to Neteyam as he fished out a sharpening stone and started to run it along a hooked-nose knife. “Page in when you get my kid.”

Hesitating for the second time that day, he sighed, “Alright then.” Neteyam signaled to three men. “Stay with Jxo while we head out. Once he’s…” he cleared his throat and averted his gaze when Jxo suddenly began to test out a flat headed chisel against a random rock- the blade sinking into it with ease, “once he’s finished, head back to Stephan’s ship. We’ll meet you there.”

“Neteyam!” T'shteyo cried again, fear crippling him as Jxo calmly tied a leather apron to his front, humming a tune cheerily as if it were just another day of crafting.

Neteyam shot T'shteyo one final blank stare. “You better pray that she’s alive… May we never meet again,” he said, before turning to stride towards their fleet.

“Bro,” Lo’ak shook his head, keeping pace with him, “remind me to never piss off Jxo, because I swear, your father-in-law is one scary motherfucker.”

Li’ona and Omatikaya.

Each side faced off- sixty feet between them as they glared and hissed at each other.

Neteyam and his father strode forward and met two Li’ona men half way, keeping them at a distance.

“Remember, let me do the talking,” Jake murmured to his son.

“Got it.”

There were no pleasantries exchanged, no signs of respect or polite greetings.

“You are not welcomed in these lands!” one of the men hissed. “Leave now, or we slaughter you all!”

Jake merely blinked, attention set on the second man instead- the one with the bloody bandaged ear. “My name is Jake Sully. Olo'eyktan for the Omatikaya. We mean no harm unless you don’t cooperate.”

“Jakesully, the mighty Toruk Makto…there is no need for you to be here! You and your Omatikaya filth must leave at once,” the same man sneered.

“Well we wouldn’t be here if you weren't holding one of our own captive.”

“There is none of your kind here!”

“Now that’s just not true now, is it? My daughter-in-law, Xilä, hand her over,” he ordered, once again addressing the second man.

“Why do you keep looking at him, I’m the one talking to you!”

Jake smirked behind his mask. “Because he’s the one in charge…it’s Su’ko, right?” he revealed, surprising the two men who tried to fool them. “Let’s not stall this out any longer. It’s quite simple actually. Hand Xilä over, and we’ll leave. That’s the second time I’ve asked. There won’t be a third.”

Neteyam zeroed in on Su’ko, fingers itching for the blade on his hip. The man clocked this and barked a laugh, finally speaking for the first time.

“So you’ve found me out then. Dhgu and I were just having a bit of fun. I admit you are far smarter than I was expecting Jakesully.”

His gaze fell on Neteyam again. “You must be the mate my new bitch keeps moaning on about…” He cocked his head to the side as if sizing him up. “She’s a feisty little thing, isn’t she?”

That was it.

Wait for the signal be dammed.

An audible crack broke the tension and pain bloomed across Neteyam’s knuckles from the sheer force of the blow he’d administered.

Su’ko dropped like a sack of yovo fruit, stunned eyes on the three men above him as if not realizing what just happened, mouth gushing crimson through his face covering.

With a simple press to the choker around his neck, Neteyam calmly said three chilling words that sounded through every person’s ear piece…

“Kill them all.”

And then all hell broke loose.

Both sides charged.

Jake attacked Su’ko’s goon just as Neteyam lurched toward the man himself.

The clans clashed in fits of knives, guns, teeth, fists, spares, guns, bows, arrows.

It was a bloodbath.

Brutal.

Savage.

Deadly.

Through the bodies who’d joined, Su’ko, the slimy filth, somehow managed to flee from Neteyam’s clutches.

Neteyam was intercepted when a Li’ona male threw himself at him. He fought off the fool with ease, blade piercing through his chin, sprinkling blood as it was ripped out.

Striding through the battle, Neteyam gained speed and gave chase. He was not going to let Su’ko escape.

The bastard was surprisingly fast and headed straight for a line of dead trees.

Coward.

Catching up to him, they attacked at the same time, knife clashing with spear. Their strikes were vicious in a song of snarls and grunts and curses, movements fluid and deliberate, flowing almost like a practiced dance.

Neteyam poured out every bottled up fury and frustration, vengeance flowing through his veins. He couldn’t kill T'shteyo, but this was as close as he could get.

Xilä flooded his mind.

Every bruise, every tear, every ounce of pain and hurt she’d endured at the hands of these lands, at the hands of its people.

This was his revenge for her.

He gained the upper hand when Su’ko stumbled and, lucky dagger pulled from the sheath on his chest, he plunged, and twisted.

Su’ko garbled in shock, blood trickling out from his lips and down his chin.

“For Xilä.”

Plunge.

“My mate.”

Plunge.

“Wife!”

Plunge.

“Mother of my future children.”

Plunge.

“Omatikaya’s destined Tsahìk.”

Plunge.

“And the woman who brought you to your end.”

Su’ko’s body dropped with an echoing THUD around the dead woods they were in.

Panting, Neteyam stared at the corpse without an ounce of remorse.

It was done.

Vhin seethed as her people were slaughtered. It was all that girl’s fault, that stupid, stupid girl!

She fled the battle and returned to the cave with only one intention.

“You little whore!” Vhin screeched, causing Xilä to freeze from her frantic task of trying to escape her chains.

She watched wide eyed as a knife wielding Vhin advanced on her.

“We should have just killed you in the first place!”

Xilä dodged her sloppy swings with practiced ease, but could only do so much as the chain became tangled beneath her. “Vhin, STOP!”

The woman laughed like psycho, reminding her of her overly disturbed father. “Su’ko is slaughtering your fucking mate as we speak! We’ll cut off his head and string him up for the beasts to feast on!"

An animalistic rage flooded Xilä’s mind where all she saw was blood. And with a roar of blinding anger, she attacked. This time not to subdue, not to block…but to kill.

In Xi and Vhin's tussle, the knife fell to the floor. The both dived for it crawling and kicking in a fit of limbs. Vhin managed to reach it first but Xi fisted her hair and slammed her face into ground.

Vhin screamed in pain as Xi wrestled the knife from her and forcefully tried to drive it into her face. They both strained and struggled as inch by inch the blade came closer and closer to Vhin’s face.

SPLAT!

Xi blinked as warm liquid speckled her face and neck. Her grip on the blade loosened, jaw falling open as she stared at the arrow embedded in Vhin’s temple.

What...?

Head snapping to the inflictor, there stood, with their bow was, “Leati!” Xi cried.

The warrior smirked, “You were taking too long to kill her.”

Scrambling away from the dead body she was still leaning over, a relieved sob escaped Xi.

Leati grumbled when Xi flung herself at her, hugging her tightly, but her annoyance simmered the instant they broke apart.

“Xilä…” she trailed off, taking in the horrifying way she looked. Shaking her head, she tugged on her wrist, “Let’s get out of here.”

“I can’t, this chain won’t budge!”

“Fuck,” Leati swore, kneeling to see if she could help.

“Leati, watch out!” Xi suddenly yelled as a rock went flying, missing the warrior’s head by inches.

“He’s dead! You killed him!” H’mdell, stalked towards Xilä. “He’s dead! What did you give my father?!”

Xi blanched…Askadu actually did it then...

Leati did not hesitate, she attacked like a flying banshee, leaping at the hulking man in sheer brutality. The two went stumbling off the short ledge in a fit of kicks and punches making Xi’s chest pound in worry.

“Xilä!” she heard someone call from a distance.

“Xilä!”

She hesitated to answer, it could have been anybody…

“XiXi!”

“Lo’ak?!”

He found her within seconds, relief etched in his eyes. “Oh thank Eywa. Xi, we gotta go, come on!”

“I can’t.” She showed him the chain, and he cursed.

“Here, stretch your leg out and block your ears,” he instructed as he lifted the large gun strapped to his chest.

With one precise shot, the chain was broken. “Let’s go!”

“Wait, what about Leati?!”

“She’ll be fine,” he assured, pulling her with him, giving her no other choice but to limp along.

They ran the length of the cave, bypassing dead bodies and still fighting Na’vi. Lo’ak led them to the edge of the entrance, tugging her behind a boulder, so they were hidden when a pair of Li’ona men came running in.

He turned towards her, ready to tell her their plan of escape but suddenly noticed. “Where’s your shit? You can’t go out there like that!” he hissed, momentarily ignoring her cuts and bruises to instead focus on her lack of boots and cloak.

“They stole it from me.”

“Oh those fuckers,” he huffed. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

Xi watched as he crawled away. Then, in less than two minutes he was back, beckoning her over eagerly. “Alright, the coast is clear, in you get,” he directed, untying his cloak to open it wide for her to share it with him.

She was lifted off her feet before she could blink and then Lo’ak was moving like lightning.

He dodged past the body he had just taken out and skirted around two females who were locked in hand to hand in combat, then out into the darkness of stifling heat. Within seconds, they were in the air as his ikran came flying out from nowhere.

Xilä curled into Lo’ak and tucked in her feet. She worriedly peered down at the raging war below for merely a second before Lo'ak was pushing her head down. "Don't look," he whispered.

When he knew they were about to approach the jagged rock, he kept her firmly locked with a gentle hold. He didn't want her to see in case Jxo was still at work on her father.

Good thing too, because when he spotted them, he grimaced at the sight. From as high up as they were, the sheer volume of T'shteyo's vibrant red blood was a stark contrast to the dull, dusty ground.

Jxo was not playing around…

They made it to the ship in no time. Stephan, a medic and two guards were there to greet them. Lo’ak carried her into the aircraft where she collapsed from fatigue, adrenaline wearing off, leaving her weak and aching.

“Drink up XiXi,” her brother-in-law said softly, pressing the sprout of a water pouch against her lips.

She drank greedily.

Lo’ak’s throat bobbed as he finally observed her. She looked like she’d been through hell. He gently brushed the back of her hair when she’d finished and slumped forward to lean into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get here sooner,” he murmured.

“It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re here now.”

“He’s right,” Stephan said, butting in. He gave her a sheepish expression from his seat on the floor opposite them- head bandaged and arm in a sling. “I’m sorry I didn’t try harder…do more.”

Xi shook her head, a smile peeking through to let him know it was okay. She had no words, so she hoped it conveyed how grateful she was of him.

The medic had just begun to attend to her bloody ankle when she asked anxiously, “Lo’ak, is Neteyam okay? Have you checked in with him?”

“I haven't yet. But don’t worry, he’s fine.”

“Can you go make sure? Please? My husband is-”

“Will be fine,” he said firmly.

“But-”

“Xi, I made him a promise. Me being here. I’m honoring that promise.”

“You need to stay calm,” the medic interrupted, adjusting something on the beeping machine she was hooked up to.

But worry only made Xilä’s pulse roar just as fast.

“Hey,” Lo’ak murmured softly, taking her hand in his own, “Xi, everything will be okay.”

“Lo’ak…I don’t want our people to get hurt… especially my Ne- I’m here. I’m safe. They can stop and come back now…tell them,” she urged. "Tell him!"

“I can’t do that, Xi…”

“They’re going to kill them all, aren't they?”

“What do you think? If the roles where reversed, tell me.”

She pursed her lips. “I think, I think if Neteyam was in my position…I think I’d do the same thing too.”

“Well, there you have it. Now, please try to stay calm. Getting worked up won’t help him right now. Okay? It's Neteyam, come on Xi, who do you think taught us everything he knows?”

An uncontrollable huff of a laugh escaped her. Xilä nodded, then forced herself to take a deep breath.

Jxo and the three warriors accompanying him were the first ones to arrive.

Xilä broke down the minute the elder wrapped her up in his arms. They were both a mumbling, sobbing mess as they reunited. Xi didn’t even care that his cloak was coated in fresh blood that stained her already filthy clothes and skin.

“What are you doing here?” she asked through a blinding grin.

Jxo shrugged and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I may not be a warrior, but I know my way around a good blade,” he joked.

They stayed wrapped up for who knows how long, seated in a corner of the cool ship until she began to nod off- body aching and begging for sleep.

Only when the early hours of the morning finally dawned did they hear the cries of ikrans.

The bay doors opened and Xilä stepped as far out onto the landing as she could, searching the crowd of returning warriors for one in particular.

Relief flooded her when Leati was spotted unharmed.

Meanwhile, Neteyam, one of the last to land, was doing the same.

Through the parting bodies, he caught sight of her instantly and a flood of emotion lodged in his chest. She was a bruised and bloody mess, and still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

In quick strides as soon as she was within arms reach, he lifted her into his arms. Legs locked around his waist, forehead and noses pressing into each other as their gazes locked- intense and reassuring.

“Baby- oh fuck. Please, please tell me this is real.”

“I’m here. I’m here, it’s me.” Xilä tugged his mask free to cup his cheeks, “Oh Eywa, you’re just as handsome as I remembered.”

They both laughed, teary eyed and choked up. And unable to stifle it, a sob escaped him.

“Please don’t cry. We’re both here. We’re both fine.”

“C’mere.” He’d barely brushed her lips when she pulled away.

“I’m filthy,” she whined.

“I don’t care.”

And then he was claiming her lips, keeping her locked with a possessive grip on the back of her neck, and uncaring of their cheering audience as their tongues and teeth reunited.

Journey squawked loudly from above them, landing clumsily as she vied for attention. Neteyam walked them out a few steps from under the ship’s covering so she could greet her ikran.

The mountain banshee nipped at Xi’s hood making her laugh.

“Xi…”

Her husband was kissing her again, pouring out every ounce of emotion he could this time.

A drop of liquid splashed Neteyam’s cheek, and then another. And another.

They broke apart, matching frowns lifting to the sky.

Rain.

With a roar, the skies opened, showering them with sweet sweet rain as thunder rumbled in the distance. Xilä’s jaw dropped, palms reaching out to feel if she’d been imagining things but no.

Eywa.

Hoods were shrugged down and grins went wide as the Omatikaya people celebrated.

“It’s raining,” she whispered in awe as droplets fell down her cheeks. She inhaled sharply when she met her husband’s intense stare. “You’re really here. You came… for me,” she murmured, index finger tracing the soft flesh of his lips.

“Always. I'd move mountains if I have to. I love you Xilä Sully. So fucking much. You should know that by now,” he whispered, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I love you too,” she sniffed, rain masking her tears.

“What do you want, baby?”

“I want to go home,” she said through trembling lips.

“Yeah, okay,” he murmured, “Let’s get you home.”

“But wait…Kiss me first.”

He nodded, smile cracking wide as he leaned in. “Whatever you want sweetheart, whatever you want,” he said, claiming her lips once more.

I’m rushing to post this since I have an early appointment. So I may or may not come back to post a proper AN.

But as always, you know what to do lovelies :)

Seriously hope y’all enjoyed this chapter.

Tags: @jakesullyfatjuicypeen @granddearduck @riatesullironalite @strawberri-blonde @earthling55 @innercreationflower @duckworthbean @gyuventure @btsiguess-kpop @blkmystery @neteswife @luvteyams @isnt-itstrange @erenjaegerwifee @faatxma @ivysully @bakugouswaif

If you'd like to be tagged or I forgot you by accident, please let me know.

#neteyam #neteyam x oc #neteyam avatar #neteyam fic #neteyam x reader #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam sully

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raz-writes-the-thing · 6 months

Text

Birth One, Get One Free (Good Omens)

Aziraphale x Crowley x Fem!Reader / requests are open and encouraged

Summary: You're the birth mother of The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Prince of this World and Lord of Darkness and you find you need Crowley's help with making sure you get to keep your little Antichrist.

CW: giving birth, soul-selling, blood, uh- k-kidnapping? sort of? canon typical kidnapping/kidswapping (can't believe I just typed that)

Good Omens Tag List: @coffee-and-red-lipstick @quickslvxrr @clarina04 @motionlessindoubt (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

You hadn’t even fucked the Devil. You had just… sold your soul a few years back. You’d thought it odd when the Demon who’d struck the deal with you had not actually asked you to sign your soul away. They’d licked their lips with their snake-like split tongue and said that at some point, they’d come to you for a favour you weren’t able to deny.

Of course, you’d already agreed to this before they’d outlined that particular detail to you. And thus, you started to always read every line of text in a contract before signing. No way were you going to make that stupid decision again. At least you still had your soul, you supposed.

It was a year or two after that when you’d met Crowley and Aziraphale. An Angel and Demon who weren’t terribly akin to their own kind, and preferred the company of each other to anyone else. This was fine by you, and you’d only been able to tell they weren’t human because of their auras. You were descended from a line of particularly powerful witches who could just… sense things. Very convenient. Particularly for things like this.

Once Crowley had figured out who you were, he warmed to you. Whether that was out of pity because he knew exactly what your deal had been for, or just because he liked you was still up for debate. It didn’t matter though, you were glad to have friends who could sympathise with your plight. Not to mention understand it.

You’d had several nice years to yourself enjoying the benefits of your deal when the proverbial snake finally came around to bite you on your proverbial ass. That Demon whom you had struck your deal with popped out at you one night after a very raucous evening at the theatre.

“Your time has come,” they had hissed rather like a snake. “To make good upon your deal.”

“Right,” you’d replied, sobering instantly. The day you’d been dreading for years was finally here. “What do I need to do?”

The Demon had smiled, their teeth glinting rotten in the moonlight, their eyes dark and murderous.

“Nine moons you must swell, so our Master can bear witness to their offspring, The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Prince of this World and Lord of Darkness. Nine moons and He shall be borne into this miserable plane of existence.”

Right. No small ask then.

“Uh, well, I can’t really say no, can I?”

The Demon laughed, and you backed away slightly to get away from the rancid mouldy earth smell coming from their breath.

“No, not really,” they’d cackled.

And so there you were, pregnant with The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Prince of this World and Lord of Darkness. For nine gruelling months with that baby inside you, growing away like no one’s business. Except it wasn’t no one's business, was it? No, it was everyone’s business. Or it was going to be, at some stage. Fuck.

At first, you’d been able to pretend that this was not your life and that you were just happily going about your own business. Of course, the first time Aziraphale and Crowley saw you after meeting your Demon bestie, they could smell the infant growing inside you.

It was a little disturbing actually. Knowing they could smell the peanut-sized thing growing in your belly. What else could they smell at any given time? That was probably not something you needed to dwell on too much.

And so you grew, and grew, and you had to face the fact that you were in fact, carrying The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Prince of this World and Lord of Darkness in your belly and there was no way out of it. Your Angel and Demon were at least kind enough to help you through the process and Aziraphale delighted in the appointments and yoga and everything else.

Crowley came to things too but was considerably less enthusiastic.

It was around month seven that the three of you started brainstorming ways to stop Armageddon in its chubby little baby tracks. You weren’t sure, but you were growing suspicious that the Demons (not Crowley- the ones who actually served Satan) were going to take the baby away from you when it was born. And that just… well it wasn’t on, to say the least.

You went into labour early, water breaking where it was supposed to and you were rushed to the little nunnery just like you were supposed to. You’d attempted to get yourself somewhere else, but fate and- God, you supposed, had other plans. It was the Chattering Order of St Beryl or nothing at all.

The labour was easy, thank, well, someone. Not easy in so far as to say without any incident whatsoever, but easy in the sense that birthing The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Prince of this World and Lord of Darkness could have gone a lot worse. It had still taken quite some number of hours, and the pain was excruciating, but by the end of the night, you were blessed with a baby boy whom you’d named Adam in the hopes that he might take after his namesake and not follow the word of God outright, but maybe take a detour here and there.

You were right, of course. While you were resting, bloodied sweaty and ripped open, the nuns had taken your Adam and given him to some American family who were also politicians. You hated politicians. And while, no, technically Adam was not your biological baby, you wanted him. You wanted to keep him. He was yours, and you would fucking raze cities to the ground to get him back.

So, you did what anyone in your position would do, and called Crowley.

“I know you’re already on your way,” you said into the receiver, voice low so as not to alert the nuns. “But I need you to put your foot down. They’ve, uh, taken him. I need him back.”

Crowley had heard barely past the word ‘but’ before he was slamming on the accelerator and getting to you as fast as possible. Aziraphale was also on his way, but he was perhaps not the one you needed for this particular little job.

You were, understandably and unfortunately, too weak to do much other than bleed into your post-birth pads and eat jelly, and you were so hyped up on adrenaline, panic and hormones to do anything but burst into tears as soon as Crowley crashed his way (still somehow suavely) into the room.

“Oh, love,” Crowley said softly, plonking his sunglasses onto your side table and coming to lay on the bed beside you. He wrapped you into his lithe arms and you bawled harder than you ever had in your life. Crowley made comforting noises, patted your head and made a lot of shushing noises.

You let yourself be devastated and exhausted for a moment- a mother. You let yourself be a mother for a moment before you gave yourself an internal kick in the teeth. You could cry and bleed out from your abused vagina later. Right now your Adam was somewhere in this chattering order and you needed him back.

“They- they have him,” you hiccuped, throat dry from the wailing. “They took him, Crowley- I- I know I said we needed to stop him- to stop Armageddon-” you grip the neck of his shirt desperately. “I need him. That’s my fucking baby, Crowley. I don’t give a fucking shit if Satan himself thinks he has some claim over him, but that is my baby.”

Crowley’s brows draw down for barely a single second before he nods in agreement. You’d carried the (literally) damned thing. Of course, he was yours.

“Right- yep, okay,” he says, putting words to his thoughts as he starts working on a plan to get your baby back. “Okay, don’t worry- I’ve got a plan.” The charming smirk on his face did not necessarily fill you with a lot of confidence.

The nuns had swapped out your baby for another baby who you later found out was the American couple’s newborn. When the nuns had returned from weighing Adam, you knew he was not your Adam because a, the swaddle was the wrong colour from the one you wrapped around Adam earlier, and b, this baby had differently coloured eyes.

“Here’s what I’m thinking,” Crowley said, standing by the cart and looking down at Not-Adam. “I take this little rascal here, and swap the wrapping thing with the one on Adam and give you back your little tyke, eh?”

You look down at Not-Adam.

“What’s going to happen to Not-Adam?”

Crowley looks down at the baby, brushing a forefinger over his cheek. He chews on his lip.

“Go back with the politicians, I expect,” Crowley says, lips curling in a soft smile as the newborn pushes his cheek against his finger. You continue to look at Not-Adam. If only there was a third baby, then you could keep them both.

“Wait- erm, Crowley,” you say guiltily. “Isn’t there an orphanage nearby?”

Crowley is a smart being, so you know it’s genuine when he looks at you with such confusion that you’re worried his perfect skin might break.

“No, look- I- I was meant to have this baby, right? That’s why they swapped my Adam out. Can I- would it be wrong… to want both?”

Crowley appeared thoughtful, gears turning in that six-thousand-year-old head. As far as you both knew, the politicians had known they were going to be swapping out their biological child for the Antichrist. They were happy enough to pass out their child for another. What would it matter if they received a totally different child that wasn’t their own or the Antichrist?

And if the baby was coming from no one and going into a (hopefully) loving home, then, who really lost there? You explained all this to Crowley, who had appeared unsure at first but by the end was coming around to it. You hoped, anyway.

“Yeah, I don’t know. How would you feel if you found out someone swapped your baby out in the dead of night?”

You gave Crowley a very pointed look.

“Right. Point taken. Look, what I’m saying is-” he looks down at the little one in the cot. “This one should go back out there and you can have Adam. Everyone goes home with their own children- yes?”

You weren’t big on it. You’d already grown attached to the little one squirming in his little swaddle. You didn’t want to give him up, but on the other hand, he probably should be with his own parents. With a dejected sigh, you agreed.

You’d tried to insist on coming along to help, but you were understandably very knackered. Crowley had put you back to bed, warned you not to do anything rash, and disappeared with the little tucker. You’d had to bury the pang of sadness that washed over you as your door closed and you were left baby-less in the room.

If you had been holding one of the little tuckers, you’re sure you would have not gone absolutely insane waiting for Crowley to return. You also had no idea how long he’d be and how long it would take him to pull off the plan and return Adam to you, and being alone in the room was not helping you with the matter.

The nuns had checked on you a couple of times, making sure you were alright and to see if you needed anything. You’d taken them up on a cup of tea but even with the warm mug, you were finding yourself slowly drifting off. Your head kept lolling forward, and you’d awake with a startle, blinking harshly and scolding yourself for falling asleep at a time like this.

You’d worried a little at first that maybe Adam was in danger, but then you’d remembered that the whole point of this Chattering Order was to keep The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Prince of this World and Lord of Darkness safe and sound- and given the wife of the politician had given birth the same day, well, it was very unlikely that she’d be taking off tonight either. There was time. You just had to be patient.

It was about an hour before Crowley returned, looking absolutely shell-shocked. The look on his face had almost meant you missed the fact that there were two squirming bundles in the cot he wheeled into the room.

Wait- two?

“Wh-” You didn’t even get the whole word out before Crowley was shaking his head, mouth opening and closing a little like a fish.

“You’re not gonna believe this, pet,” he said, wheeling the cot by your side so you could see them lying there before going back to the door to check for nuns. Seeing none, he locked the door and sat down on the edge of your bed.

By this point you were cooing over them, admiring them sleeping. They were so peaceful. It was hard to believe that you had birthed the Antichrist. How could something so cute be evil? You weren’t convinced.

“Went over to the happy couples room,” Crowley said absently, causing you to tear your attention away from the babies and look at him. “And- there were two in there. She didn’t have twins, mind-” Crowley blinked, and focussed his gaze on yours. “They were fussing over him, cooing and cuddling like all you humans do.”

Crowley blinked once more, looking down at the two babies in front of you.

“Asked me to take Adam away. One of the nuns had forgotten to take the other one. Didn’t even give this one a lookover. I tried to explain- briefly, but they didn’t want a word of it.”

You ran a finger over Not-Adam’s swaddle, smiling as he wriggled.

“Where did the other baby come from?” You asked the question dawning on you. “There weren’t any other couples here, were there?”

“Nope,” Crowley sighed, popping the ‘p.’ “No idea. Big old mystery. Just another in a long line of cock ups, I expect.”

You hummed in agreement. In all honesty, you didn’t care how it happened. You were just glad it did- and glad the politicians didn’t want their kid back. Crowley had given them a chance, and they’d not listened. What else was there to do?

“Thank you,” you say, moving your hand from the cot to place on top of Crowley’s. “Thank you. You- you got my little one back. My babies. I’m grateful for that.”

Crowley cleared his throat, a little uncomfortable with the sincerity in your eyes. He’d done a good thing, and yet also a bad thing. Maybe Downstairs wouldn’t take notice. You hoped not, for his sake.

Your eyelids were starting to droop again now, and Crowley helped you settle back down. He assured you that if any nuns came looking, he’d keep your additional little one out of sight.

Just as you were passing out, you heard a shocked Aziraphale say none too quietly-

“Twins?! No one said anything about twins- and I should know. I went to all the appointments.”

A mortified Crowley shushed him, and within moments, your eyes were closed the whole way.

You slept soundly, knowing your Angel and Demon would keep you and your babies safe.

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bogleech · 10 months

Note

i dont really go to dr who or anything but i feel like your nazi/fascism allegory immediately falls through once you make whatever youre using "born like that", implying that everyone that is a nazi or everyone that is a facist was Born evil and therefore you dont have to worry about falling victim to nazi rhetoric because Youre not one of those evil bad guys and you dont have to worry about any of your friends or family being neo nazis because clearly theyre one of the good guys + you can easily tell who the bad guys are even though its. a far much more complex thing than that and youre going to run into someone that you think is a cool, chill person but it turns out theyre jsut really good at hiding their fascist beliefs.

Yeah, exactly, if a narrative wants me to think the alien invaders are actually morally despicable then they need to show me that they're capable of anything we would consider kindness or that not all of them are the same! If they hatch out of the queen slug's spores with an automatic instinct to find and eat babies then that can't really be considered any more good or evil than a cat's drive to eat birds. It's an unfortunate problem for other species but never works as an allegory for an ideological choice! One of the best subversions of this are the Orks in Warhammer 40,000, of all things. If I remember right, they were the result of an advanced species using biotechnology to create their own "warrior caste," deliberately "stupider" and driven by a lust for violence, so basically a sub-race created by eugenicists be expendable military slaves. How well that worked out for the civilization is obvious, but the setting never treats the Orks as necessarily good or evil but more of a chaotic force that has no idea what it's really doing at any given time. Conversely, the Yeerks in Animorphs were given a lot of complex, conflicting motivations that feel pretty human. I ultimately end up feeling bad for them as a whole because they're pitiful little slugs you can crush with one hand, and most of what they do is driven by a mix of fear and radical indoctrination. Their leader, however, pretty much is a space hitler who can be held completely accountable for the war as well for horrible things done to his own kind in order to enforce their obedience. And we do still get good-guy yeerks who rebel against that system!

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seeingivy · 9 months

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HI RONNIE!!!! HOPE ALL IS WELL POOKIE!! i just have a suggestion for your gojo fics + ts songs if you haven’t done it already bc i havent rlly checked but gorgeous from reputation 😋😋😋

gorgeous

satoru gojo x f!reader

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

content: nothing much, just some good old thirsting for our favorite sorcerer

an: HELLO MY BELOVED BABIE POOKIE SWEETIE PIE FACE!!! of course I can do gorgeous (which this is actually the fourth time it's been requested for taylor as gojo so I had to do it as fast as I could) fun fact: this was one of my surprise songs when my older sister flew me out to see the eras tour in atlanta!!!!

The rosé is sweet as it trickles down your throat, immediately filling you with a warm, fuzzy feeling in the center of your chest.

“We’ve only been here for twenty minutes.” Nanami says, reaching to take the bottle from you.

“And I’ve had the longest week of my life. Please mind your own business, Kento.” you respond, reaching for the bottle back from him.

A measly tradition from when you were masters students together is now the only reason you’re making it to the end of the week. After a load of corporate bullshit for Nanami, insane work hours for Shoko, and the most disorganized elementary school in the metropolitan area for you, the three of you come together to bitch and get drunk.

Let loose. And let loose really means let loose, because the bartender hates you so much that he has a picture of the three of you printed on the front door with a very menacing Do Not Enter sign next to it.

“Hi Toji.”

“I’m going to permanently ban you from this bar one day. And I’ll feel no remorse when I kick you out on your ass either.”

“Toji, stop flirting with me or I’m going to fall in love with you.”

Toji wrinkles his nose in disgust, looking borderline offended that you would even say such a thing, as he places three beers on the table. You shoot him a wink and he flips you off in response as he walks back to his spot behind the bar.

“So what is that asshat doing?” Nanami asks.

You turn your head to find Hiro, the stupid pathologist you’ve been dating for the past eight months, doing some type of…interpretive dance in the middle of the bar with a blonde girl. Interpretive dance is a nice word for twerking on each other.

“Networking.”

Shoko and Nanami nearly burst out laughing before pushing their bottles towards you, which you happily accept.

“You win. What an absolute idiot.”

You all laugh as you watch Hiro go on, matching disgusted faces plastered on the three of your faces as his arms become more uncoordinated with each changing beat. You turn your head to the side, swallowing down your disgust with Nanami’s beer and silently thanking the Ancient Sumerians for creating the aforementioned beer for you to drown your pity in.

The door of the bar swings open behind you and Nanami and Shoko lift their hands up, giving a polite wave, before sinking back down into their chairs. You turn around to look at who they were waving at and feel your breath get tangled in your throat.

Are you drunk? Yes. Are you a little bit delusional? Probably. Is this probably a result of the idiot you’ve been dating doing some type of weird, inappropriate bird mating call on the dance floor that’s more embarrassing for you than it is for him? For sure.

But the human personification of beauty just walked into the smelly bar and you think you’ve fallen in love. In lust. In whatever you can have with this man, because he’s literally the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

He’s tall, his defined arms peeking out through the white, buttoned collared shirt he’s wearing. His sleeves are pulled just past his forearms, because he’s a whore, putting the tiniest of veins on display and honestly, making you foam at the mouth. Not only is he built, not only is he fit but he literally has the face of a fucking angel.

You’ve never understood that entire thing. Attraction at first sight. You need to sit down, get to know someone, before you can truly like them. And tonight, you stand corrected because there’s something magnetic about him. You can’t help but notice, can’t help but pay attention to him walking around the bar.

You think it’s illegal. Because who the fuck walks into this dinky ass bar looking like that? Sparkly blue eyes, peeking from behind a pair of sunglasses, and perfectly tousled, snow white hair. Looks that could kill. Like literally kill, because your heart is beating so fast it’s going to explode.

He walks past the door and takes a seat at the bar, leaning against the table to order his drink. And you’re sure your inhibitions are not present because of the bottle of wine and now four beers that you’ve downed, but you’re full on ogling him.

Because your day, your week, your life can suck ass but you’ve grown enough to know that you should let yourself enjoy the little things in life. Which includes flagrantly gawking at this beautiful, beautiful stranger.

“You’re staring.”

You turn around to face Shoko and Nanami again, nearly twitching in your seat.

“Who the fuck is that?”

“Satoru Gojo. He’s a medical malpractice lawyer, he helped out a co-worker of mine a few months ago.” responds Shoko, placing a fresh cigarette in between her teeth.

“His firm is right across from my office. I see him on the train sometimes on the way to work.” says Nanami, leaning over to light Shoko’s stick.

“Do you know the things I would do to that man?”

“What?”

“I need that man. Horrendously. Biblically. Like we’re Adam and Eve, creating something new. Who the fuck looks like that? Who the fuck walks into Toji’s disgusting ass bar looking like a Greek god? Like an angel descended from the heavens?”

“Are we talking about the same guy?” Shoko asks, blowing the smoke out of her mouth.

“Shut up. Don’t act like you don’t go goo goo ga ga over Utahime every time you see her at one of my work functions. This guy is my Utahime.”

“Y/N. Stop.”

“Shut up Kento. One night with Satoru Gojo and I’d literally lose my fucking mind. Like freak shit - on the table, in the bathroom, on the kitchen counter. Like you know that mind-blowing person you still think about when you’re a smelly, old senile person reliving your glory days when your husband cheats on you? That man under me would be MY glory days. He’s fucking gorgeous.”

You feel a hand slide around your shoulder and the aforementioned gorgeous man is now sitting right next to you, his other hand resting on your knee. He’s smiling, his eyes even more dazzling when they’re filled with the sincerity of a smile.

“Gorgeous, huh?” he says, reaching forward to pinch your cheek.

You stick your face in your hands as you move away from his burning touch.. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. He leans forward to shake hands with Shoko and Nanami, exchanging pleasantries with them. The traitors.

“Were you planning on telling me he was standing right behind me listening while I listed all the ways I would do him, Kento?”

“What do you think ‘Y/N stop it’ means?” he responds.

“No need to be ashamed, sweetheart. I think it’s really cute.”

You roll your eyes as you scoot closer to the other edge of the bench, drowning in your embarrassment as Kento and Shoko break into conversation with Gojo.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

“Hey babe. Are you ready to leave?”

Hiro’s now standing at the side of the table, sweat dripping down the side of his face, as he gestures for you to stand up. And now it’s even more embarrassing, because Gojo looks way too excited to be meeting Hiro right now.

“I’m not sure we’ve met. I’m Satoru Gojo.”

“Hiro. I’m dating Y/N.”

Satoru looks over, smirking at you, before he leans back - and sends your head into a tizzy in the process because who the hell looks attractive smirking like that.

“Congratulations. You must be really happy together. Life changing.” he says.

You can feel your cheeks burning. He’s teasing you. You just admitted all the things you would do to him out loud, about how one night with him would change your life, and not only did he hear but now he’s sticking it to your boyfriend too.

You push past him in the booth, give Shoko and Nanami a halfhearted smile, before you drag Hiro out of the bar with you.

You sit against the pavement, bumping knees with Itadori, as you both eye the empty parking lot in front of you.

“I’m really sorry. My grandpa should actually be here any minute.”

You look over at him, his pink hair tousled messily and the way he’s nervously fidgeting with the strings of his yellow hoodie. You give him a smile, knowing all too well the embarrassment of being the last kid picked up from school. Patiently waiting for someone to remember to pick you up.

“Are you enjoying the third grade, Itadori?”

“Yeah. I made a few friends recently which is nice.”

“That’s always fun, kid. I’m glad you’re situating okay. Do you like the area?”

“I kind of miss my old house. But it’s nice to spend time with my grandpa.”

You feel your heart ache as you remember the little file they sent over, the written note from your principal pressed on top. That his parents passed away just before the start of the school year and his grandfather, one of his only living family members, wasn’t doing too well either.

“Do you like your teacher?”

He looks over, a shy smile on his face.

“She’s okay.”

You smile, reaching forward to mess with her hair.

“Just okay? I think I’m pretty cool.”

“Eh.”

You reach into your pocket for the lollipop you swiped from your stash and hold it out in front of him. You watch his face light up, his excited little hands ripping the paper off.

“Am I cool yet, Itadori?”

“Freezing.”

You smile, giving his shoulder a squeeze as a black car pulls up, stopping right in front of you. And out comes Satoru Gojo, in all his beauty, and one of your other students, Megumi Fushiguro.

Megumi runs straight up to Itadori, holding out his hand, as he starts dragging him to the car. You stand up, awkwardly brushing your palms against your pencil skirt as Satoru walks up to you, a smirk on his face.

And what the fuck is he doing here?

“Hi.”

“Hello. Are you here to pick up Itadori?”

“Sure am, pretty girl. Have a note from his grandpa, he’s not really feeling well.”

You nod, ignoring the tingle in your hands as he brushes his fingers against yours to hand you the note. You pretend to read the note as you try to calm your breaths and look back up at him.

Ocean blue eyes, staring into yours.

“Perfect. Well, you’re good to go.”

Satoru gives you a look before bending down to Itadori and Megumi’s heights, giving them the keys to the car and full access to playing with his stereo system. They both excitedly run into the car, leaving you and Satoru outside the school.

“Are you not leaving?”

“I thought we could chat for a bit.”

You clench your fists as he takes Itadori’s seat on the pavement and gestures for you to sit next to him. You both eye Megumi and Itadori in the car, the two of them now sticking their faces too close to the air conditioning vents and manically laughing at how poofed up their hair is getting.

“How are you?”

“Satoru Gojo. Are you really making me sit here on the pavement to ask me how I am?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Well. I already know a lot about you. Your name, your occupation, how you feel about me. I feel like we skipped a few steps so we should backtrack. I didn’t even know you were my kids' teacher till about three seconds ago.” he says, smirking over at you.

“Excuse me. How I feel about you?”

“Oh, you know. On the table, in the bathroom, on the kitchen counter.” he responds, his voice all sing-songy.

“Isn’t your wife waiting for you at home?”

You can feel the jealousy seething in you already, because you know his answer. Because there is no universe where this man does not have a girlfriend already. The best ones are already taken. He leans closer, pinching your cheek in response.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I think the whole my kid’s elementary school teacher cheating affair is cliche, Satoru. Dare I say, even more cliche than the nanny.”

“But not as cliche as the secretary.”

“Oh, of course not. That’s the holy grail of cliche cheating affairs.”

He laughs, leaning back on his forearms as you both fall into the silence. Stupid, fucking gorgeous funny charismatic looking-

“No wife for me fortunately. Or girlfriend either.”

That’s somehow worse. Because if he had a girlfriend, you could be jealous of her. Put her face on a cardboard box and kick it off a cliff. But he’s single. And now he’s just something you want but can’t have. Entirely attainable but not in your reach.

Also known as, frustrating as hell.

“Shame. I’m sure girls are lining up at the door to experience the joys of dating you.”

“And you’re first in line, sweetheart.”

You feel your cheeks burn as he stands up, the tension so unbearable you can feel it eating at you alive. He holds his hand out, that little tingle running through you again, as he helps you up, now dragging Megumi and Itadori out of the front seats. You give the three of them a smile, your blood burning, as they drive away.

He sends you a gift the next day. A donation of classroom supplies you had been egregiously emailing all the parents about and a handwritten note.

the start of a cliche <3 - satoru

You try to wipe the smile off your face. The fluttering in your chest. The presence of him in your dreams and in your mind at all times.

Suddenly, you’re seventeen again and you remember the biggest woes of your teenage life.

The ups and downs of having a crush on someone.

You clench the bowl of pudding in your hands as you ring the doorbell, which sprouts a large amount of commotion and noise behind the door. You give your hair one last pat down, after fretting over it for six hours in the mirror, as the door swings open.

You’re met with Satoru Gojo and a pink apron hanging around his neck.

“Nice outfit, Gojo. Can I try it on sometime?”

“I’ll take it off and give you a show right now, sweetheart.”

You feel your cheeks blazing as he drags you in, his warm hands taking the bowl from yours. You can hear thumping upstairs, which you’re sure is Megumi, Itadori, and Kugisaki making a mess of Gojo’s apartment.

You follow him to the kitchen, taking a quick moment to totally check him out, before you make it to his mess of a birthday cake.

“There’s no way you’re going to actually give them that, are you?”

“What’s wrong with it? It’s homemade. It has that Satoru charm.”

“More like a stinky charm. What is that smell?”

“The dishes. I need to do them because they’re kind of sticking to the pans. From this downright radioactive cake I just made.”

You shoo him away, taking on the duty of properly making something out of the ruins of the "cake" Satoru had spread on his counter. From your vantage point, he has his back turned to you, which gives you full permission to ogle him once again.

You realize that this is creepy. That no part of this is romantic and that he only invited you to Itadori’s little birthday party because you’re one of five people he actually knows in this city. But god is your heart beaming at the fact that the two of you are like this, together and alone.

You’re mixing the frosting, a perfect light pink to match Itadori’s hair, and all you can think about is how good Satoru looks in a kitchen. In that run down t-shirt and sweatpants. Being all domestic.

The way his arms look when he’s washing the dishes, how he looks when he puts things back into the fridge - his arm flexed against the handle. How reaching for the top cupboards makes the end of his shirt lift a little and you can see that muscled skin on his back.

“I’m sure that the frosting is mixed by now. You’ve been going really hard at it.”

You feel your face burn as you fill the piping bag, entirely embarrassed that he caught you staring. He makes his way over as you fill up the bags, the two of you frosting the entire sides of the cake together. At the end, you and Satoru take turns frosting the letters - the happy birthday in Satoru’s messy block printing and the itadori in your swirly cursive.

He gives you a smile and it makes your heart all lopsided as he walks away. He goes toward the stairs, gesturing for all three of them to come down.

You hear three pounding footsteps and then are bombarded with all three of them hugging you, pleasantly surprised at your arrival.

“Are you here for my birthday?”

“I sure am, birthday boy. I even brought you a gift, Itadori.” you respond, pinching his little cheek.

He leans into your touch, giving you a hard hug before he lets go to run towards the kitchen. Gojo’s too busy strapping little birthday hats onto Nobara and Megumi's head as the two of you walk in, Satoru you a gleaming smile as he carries the last two hats over to you.

“Purple or blue? Your pick, milady.”

You point at the blue party hat which Gojo smiles at, before he lifts his hands to your face and secures the hat around your head. Some part of your hair gets tangled with the string, which Gojo fixes with the swiftness of his hands, immediately securing your hair back behind your ear.

You could die happy then and there.

He gives you a smile before turning back to Itadori - tickling him and screaming singing happy birthday into his ears, making the kid laugh so hard he’s crying out of his eyes.

And you hate Satoru for inviting you. Surely he must know that something like this would only make you like him more.

You turn your neck, just at the slightest angle, to get sight of him in your periphery. Keeping an eye on him is the only way to keep him at arm's length. And you’ve successfully avoided him three times now.

More dressed down than the past few times you’ve seen him, Satoru is wearing a run down t-shirt and five inch inseam shorts - and he’s very excitedly chatting up Utahime and Nanami. You may be seeing things, but you swear he inches closer every time you move, the majority of his frame always turned to whichever direction you're standing in.

Shoko starts poking your cheek aggressively to catch your attention, her face a few feet away from yours.

“You know if you look from the side, it’s still considered staring.” she says.

“Shut up. You’re acting like you weren’t staring either, Shoko.”

“Staring at who?”

You turn around to find the person attached to the voice and immediately walk away. Of course it was fucking Gojo.

Even the sound of his voice is enough to make your heart race, like you're a six year old girl meeting your crush on the swings. You immediately race to Shoko’s bedroom, for a few seconds to calm yourself down. Sober up before you say something embarrassing again.

When you make it to her room, you haphazardly shut the door behind you and fall face first into Shoko’s bed. You can still smell the laundry on her sheets, perfectly starched and fitted to perfection. You yank your phone out from your back pocket, quickly sliding through emails and making mental notes for your to-do list tomorrow to distract yourself.

You hear the door open and close behind you, the tiny lock clicking against the frame. You turn around to find Satoru standing before you, his hands crossed against his chest.

“Why do you hate me?”

You frown, taken aback by his question.

“What?”

“Why do you hate me, Y/N? I’ve made every effort to be your friend, to be your anything and you keep ignoring me.”

“When the hell did I ignore you?”

“I’ve been trying to talk to you all night. Every time I walk up to a group you’re standing in, you walk away.”

“That’s not intentional, I-”

“I sent you everything on your wishlist for your classroom. For your students, because you wanted it really badly.”

“And I appreciate that, I really do and-”

“You didn’t even stop by to thank me. I’ve been picking up Megumi everyday waiting for you to come out.”

“Thank you. Really, it’s made such a big difference and I’ve-”

“Why don't you want to be friends with me?”

You can feel the anger, the tension, the goddamn jumbled mess of feelings this idiot makes you feel bubbling out of your mouth as you start screaming at him, at the goddamn idiocy falling out of his mouth right now.

“That's just the fucking problem. I don't want to be friends with you because I want to be more. You should take it as a compliment that I went out of my way to talk to everyone here but you. That I like you so much that I can’t stand to even be near you without telling you.”

You can see the shock spread across his face as you keep rambling, the words stringing out of your mouth.

“I don’t not talk to you on purpose. But every time I look at you, I can’t say anything to your face. You-you’re just-”

“Just what?”

“You make me so happy it’s ridiculous. You could smile at me and I’d be on the floor, giggling in my bed like I’m a twelve year old. You’re- your banter leaves me blushing, your smile makes my heart beat so fast, and you make me so happy that it makes me sad I can’t have you. I’ve embarrassed myself in front of you for the literal second time now so can I please just leave before you humiliate me some more?"

You can feel your chest heaving, a very wide eyed Gojo staring back at you with a smile on his face. You make your move to run past him, to literally avoid this guy for the rest of your life, but he grabs onto your wrist, pulling you back so you’re leaning into his chest.

"Leave me alone. I'll probably just go die alone at home with my cats now."

“It's my turn to talk now.” he says, his voice low.

“What?”

“It's my turn to talk. You’ve gotten to ramble about how you feel twice and you have yet to let me do it even once.” he deadpans, cupping your face in the side of his hand.

You nod, your cheek searing from his warm hand on your skin.

“You think I’m gorgeous. But I think you’re irresistible.”

“Huh?”

“You. are. irresistible. Every time I see you, every time I even hear about you, it makes my heart bloom in my chest. Remember that smiley face you put in the email about Megumi’s grades? I literally had to bite down on my hand to avoid fucking screaming about the entire thing. That one time you smiled at me from across the hall when I went to pick Tsumiki up from her class? I was on the fucking floor.”

He brings his other hand up, securing it around your neck to angle your face up. His eyes are burning with something you can’t place and it’s making your stomach swarm with an array of butterflies.

“And the first night I met you. Your little grumpy face with your hands curled around two bottles of beer. Giggling with Shoko and Nanami, laughing so hard you were crying. You are so, so goddamn cute, so fucking beautiful that I just had to walk over. To have your eyes looking in mine, even if it was just once.”

He leans down, pressing his lips against yours, as you nearly melt into his arms, losing the agency you had over your footing. He must sense it because he immediately brings his hands down, lifting you up from your waist so you’re even closer to his mouth, his lips deepening the kiss. He breaks apart, whispering against your mouth.

“I’d like to meet your cats.”

“What cats?”

“You literally just said you were going to do die at home alone with your cats."

"Oh. Right. I live alone, that was kind of just an expression."

"S'okay. You've always had a flair for the dramatics."

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

taglist: @porridgesblog @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @squirrelspoetry

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noellawrites · 1 year

Text

Short Leash - Yandere!Lip Gallagher x reader

requested by @lyssak09 & anonymous

summary: you find out Lip cheated and try to escape, but nothing ever goes as planned.

warnings: captivity, abusive relationship, non-con mentions, restraints

Your eyelid was twitching again. It was beyond uncomfortable and you were exhausted from doing absolutely nothing. All you could do was stare up at the wavy pattern on the ceiling for the fifty-seventh time today as you waited for Lip or one of his siblings to return and let you out of your prison disguised as a bedroom.

Thirty minutes later, loud footsteps pounded through the back door of the Gallagher house. It had to be your asshole boyfriend or one of his batshit insane siblings.

"(Y/n), Mickey and I are home. We're hangin' out downstairs if you'd like to join," Ian called through the door, turning the exterior lock and letting you out of Lip's tiny, unfurnished bedroom.

"Thank god," you huffed, climbing out of the stained bedsheets and slipping out the door in front of Lip's younger brother.

Taking a deep breath, you padded down the side stairs and into the kitchen, tearing into the first bag of chips you saw. Lip wasn't very good about remembering to feed you anything besides beer or cigarettes.

"Jeez, leave some for the rest of us," Mickey laughed. He grabbed a can from the fridge and nudged you gently, not missing your wince.

You thought you covered it well, but you couldn't help the face you'd made when Mickey nudged the same spot Lip had grabbed you and left a bruise the previous night.

"Wait a minute, the hell was that?" Mickey said, glaring and taking a swig from his can.

"Fuck off, Mickey," you rolled your eyes, taking the chips with you into the living room.

"Then what's with these? C'mon, I know abuse when I see it," Mickey said, following you.

Ian stood up, narrowing his eyes at you and crossing his hands over his chest.

"C'mon (y/n), we're friends. And I hear shit, okay? I just didn't want to believe it was true. But we can help you if you just tell us the truth."

"I can't tell you, he'll make it worse just like he always fucking does! He already has all of you keeping tabs on me and trapping me here!" You screamed.

"B-but the lock is for when you sleepwalk--"

"Don't you realize how stupid that sounds? I don't sleepwalk, I never have! Lip just lies so you'll help him keep me here!"

Tears pricked your eyes as your chest rose and fell quickly. Yelling in anger was the most exercise you'd had in months, excluding when Lip would kick and punch you around.

Ian and Mickey exchanged a look, which either meant they thought you were absolutely insane, or they wanted to help you.

"We need to tell you something before Lip gets home from Patsy's," Ian said, taking a step toward you.

"Lip's been fucking that waitress, the brown-haired one with a kid," Mickey blurted. He looked at you with what struck you as pity.

"Sierra?" you sputtered.

All of a sudden, you were hit with the ugly mental image of him fucking her in the alley behind Patsy's, in the back room, probably her apartment too. It made sense as to why he'd been so absent in the recent weeks. Were you not enough, sealed in a dingy room day in and day out, just for him? Did he really need another woman besides you?

It felt like a slap in the face, even more so than the ones he'd regularly inflicted on you. It was betrayal. All those nights you thought he was working late? He was fucking another girl, a free girl, a girl who was a mother and a waitress and an independent fucking human and a girl who was everything you couldn't be.

"I'm sorry, (y/n)," Ian apologized as you sank onto the couch, tears blurring your vision.

"Look, we fucking broke her!" Mickey hissed, gesturing toward you.

"Shh! She'll be fine, let's just give her a minute," Ian responded.

"If you care about me at all, you need to let me out of here," you said, standing up. You took a breath, looking around. There was nothing you needed and barely anything that even belonged to you here. Lip had taken you and left all of your belongings, leaving your family to think you'd simply ran away and started a new life. How wrong they were.

"Here's fifty bucks for a bus ticket. We'll just tell him we forgot to lock the back door and you escaped," Ian promised.

You stepped into a pair of Fiona's sneakers and slipped out the back door. The backyard was illuminated by a lone, dim light. You glanced around. It had been a while since you were last outdoors, but you remembered the L stop wasn't too far. If you could just make it, less than a mile, you could take it to the Greyhound station.

You started quickly down the sidewalk, determined to escape. You could almost deal with being held captive when you thought your captor actually loved you. You thought he really did care for you, but it was all a smoke screen. Lip promised that you'd spend the rest of your lives together. He said it was hard to be without you, that he only hurt you because it was so hard to contain his love for you.

Now, you knew it was all bullshit. He wanted to come back to you but he wanted to fuck around, too. What a dick.

Your teeth chattered as you braved the Chicago night in only a t-shirt and pajama shorts. Still, the chill didn't stop your determination to escape your abusive boyfriend and make your way to literally anywhere but the South Side.

"(y/n), what the hell?" Oh, shit.

Your body felt heavy as you drifted back into consciousness. Your head pounded with pain and the taste of blood was stuck to your tongue.

You were back in Lip's room, this time handcuffed to the bed. Lip sat against the wall, smoking a cigarette.

"You're a fucking idiot," he said once he realized you were awake.

"And you're a cheating dirtbag."

"Not like it matters. You'll never leave again."

"What is your fucking problem? Do you get off on keeping me captive while you go out and fuck anything with two legs?"

"You don't get it. I'm trying to get this shit out of my system before we get married and start a family," Lip spat angrily.

"How could you possibly think I want to marry you or have a family after this shit?" you yelled, pulling at your cuffs to no avail.

"Not like you have a choice," Lip shrugged, taking another drag.

"Lip, please. Aren't you tired of this stupid cycle? You hurt me, I try to leave, you find someone else, your family is confused, you tell me I'm yours, and we just do it all again? C'mon, we both know there's more to life than this," you begged.

"There isn't more for you. You're lucky I even want you. You're damaged fuckin' goods, (y/n)."

"Nice try Lip, but I'm not falling for it. Your family knows what you've done, they'll help me."

"They'll mind their fuckin' business is what they'll do. Now let's get started on that family, huh? Here, I even got you a gag," Lip laughed, standing up and coming towards you with a soiled bandana.

You thrashed and screamed, but no one ever came. No one never would again.

#lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher imagine #yandere lip gallagher #yandere lip gallagher x reader #dark lip gallagher #shameless x reader #yandere shameless #yandere shameless x reader #dark shamless x reader

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yurinaa-world · 9 months

Text

Characters: Imbibtor Lunea (Dan Feng) x Fem! Reader

Synopsis: While you were looking around in the beautiful garden, you seemed to find yourself in trouble (like always), being dragged out by the wrist by a furious palace keeper who thinks highly of himself since your human

Warnings: Made this without sleep, spelling mistakes, and I'm not sure of anything else

You looked around at the sight of beautiful flowers in different colors you would never imagine seeing. You hear the rumors of the palace where the Imbibtor Lunea was living; he must be lucky to have such beautiful things as the lowly humans below could dream of.

You look around, but be careful not to touch anything since the flowers could be delicate, and the last thing you want is to ruin something by accident and get into so much trouble that your master couldn’t even help you this time.

"You there, what do you think you're doing?" You hear the voice of a man yelling at you, which makes you flinch and turn your head to see where the voice is coming from. Your eyes meet with his as you turn the rest of your body, while the man, who looked quite old, quickly walks over, grabs your wrist, and drags you out of the garden.

As you forced your way out of the garden, the man who had an extremely tight grip and wrist let go, leaving a nasty mark. His face full of red, he looked as if he were exploding, but before you could, the man began to yell at you. "How dare a lowly being as yourself dare to step foot in that garden!" he yelled at you. It pissed you off that he was the one who laid hands on you while you were just looking around!

"Excuse me, you dragged me out and left a mark on my wrist!" you yelled right back at him. "You humans are so fragile, even touching will break you. Who is master, girl? that you think to talk to the keeper of the palace like this." The man fumed as he gave you a dirty look.

"Xia Qiu is my master!" You responded right back to the man. "So that annoying brat that he took in, how desperate was he to take you in as a disciple? I truly pity him; he was once the greatest, and now." The man said this as his face filled with disgust before you could say anything back.

"What is the commotion about? I can hear your screaming from the palace." A man spoke in a cold tone, coming behind the palace keeper. As you both looked at where the voice was from, "Imbibitor Lunae?" The palace keeper immediately bowed down to the man in front, looking at him. He was the Imbibitor Lunae! He's so handsome!

Well, you see, this human here dared to step into the garden," the palace keeper said while shaking. "Is that really all you’re screaming about?" W-well," it was quite the sight now that the angry palace keeper was shaking and stuttering, but it was like you were going to let him go after he insulted your master.

"I'm sorry for causing disturbance, high elder. I should be a bigger person since I'm young, but your palace keeper here dragged me by the wrist and even left a mark on it, insulted me, and as well insulted My Master Xia Qiu. You are quite familiar with him, no?" "If my master heard of this, he would be quite displeased that the high elder kept such a rude man here." You spoke flawlessly and with grace; you couldn't help but be proud of yourself.

The man beside you stood silent and shocked by your statement. Imbibitor Lunae stayed quiet for a moment. "It seems you've gotten too high on your horse and think you can act like that." Imbibitor Lunae spoke coldly as his gaze landed on you. You felt your blood run cold when you saw the look in his eyes. "Do not worry, I will deal with him; you may tell your master about it if you like." The guards appeared and took away the man, as the Imbibitor Lunae left as well. "You should go home," you hear him say.

"Yes, yes, thank you, High Elder." You bow down, and as you leave the palace, you know that you're not stupid enough to ever go back. Forget the flowers!

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

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anarchy-and-piglins · 10 months

Text

Techno's mother did not cry out for him when they dragged him out of the house.

Her eyes were distant, closed off. She knew what was about to happen just as well as he did. Before he was born, she had already resigned herself to the grief of losing a child to the woods.

It was simply his purpose.

The leader of the village passed a thumb over his forehead and left behind a trail of blood, telling Techno that he should be grateful.

"It is an honor to be chosen for this," the leader said. His voice did not waver. He had sent off so many before him. Techno looked him in the eyes, unable to feel scared.

When he was little, he once asked his mother why they didn't just... leave? She had spoken vaguely about the fertility of these lands, the bountiful harvests that meant they would never know hunger. The clean waters in the river thriving with fish, the blossoms on the trees bursting with fruit. She had told Techno all of it, all the reasons that living there was a blessing.

And yet she failed to justify the price at which that blessing came. The reason he was born.

The woods hungered.

In the middle of the night, those trees called out with ravenous appetite to be fed. The townspeople send their sacrifice. And when the morning came, they would find nothing but the bones were left.

It was easier to know who would be sent so there was no risk of growing attached. Every decade, a child was brought into this world to bear the burden. Techno had spent his entire life locked up in his room. His mother fed him and had pity enough to entertain him with stories through the solid oak door. She said she did not want him to die knowing /nothing/ of this world.

But she wanted (no, needed) him to die all the same.

"Do not take it off." They fastened the blindfold around his eyes. "Do not look at them, or they will make your death slow and painful. You'll want this to be swift."

Techno nodded, feeling the leader's hand squeeze his own one last time.

The grass was cold beneath his bare feet, slightly wet with dew - a prelude to a sunrise Techno wouldn't get to witness. He walked, the wind pulling at his hair, stumbling without sight. Deeper, deeper.

As if his heart could hear them calling for him, for their chosen one.

And when he collapsed onto his knees, it was not exhaustion that pulled him down but their powers that made his shoulders heavy.

"He's not scared." One of them spoke, petulant. They sounded younger and boyish. Techno couldn't describe it.

"He's not. Admirable."

"Or fucking stupid. Does he not know he was sent here to die?"

"I do," Techno said. He could hear the very earth go quiet. He was told not to speak to these beings either. But he refused to go quietly. If he could not change the inevitability of his death, he could change the way in which he died. It was the only thing Techno could ever control.

So he had made a vow to himself that he would not be afraid. He would go with his head held high.

He flinched when a hand cupped his cheek, tilting his face up. He wasn't supposed to be able to see, because of the blindfold. But the woods cared not for human reality. Techno felt like he could picture perfectly the man observing him, long blond hair and piercing blue eyes. Dark wings of midnight feathers stretching from his back. The slight stubble around his chin and the dimples in his cheeks when he smiled in amusement at Techno's stubbornness.

The two behind him, not human either but projecting themselves for the moment painfully mundane. But all wrong, just in a way that it made Techno dizzy if he tried to focus too hard on it.

"He's different," the man said.

"Didn't you teach us not to play with our food," the one who hadn't spoken yet sighed.

But the man just held on, grip a bit tighter. Techno was blind again, the vision melted away, but he felt like their images had been burned into his mind. A razor-sharp smile broke the man's face. "I don't think he's food."

"They gave him to us, though?"

"True." The man hummed, pleased. "They gave him to us. But perhaps those silly humans mistook his purpose."

The woods hungered. But Techno was much more concerned about what would happen if they sunk their roots into his flesh forever.

#dark sbi #technoblade #shara writes

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emepe · 1 month

Text

— Pairing: Eren x Reader, friends to lovers

— General info: series, 18+, modern AU, serial killer AU, smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

— Summary: Fate is a tricky thing. Certain situations can’t be avoided as much as certain people’s lives can’t be kept from intertwining. With a serial killer on the loose, and unexpected relationships blooming, how will the universe intervene?

— Chapter summary: A journal entry. Meanwhile, Armin does what he can to help Eren out.

— Content warnings: mentions of murder and torture of a woman, misogyny.

— Notes: Hello, hello! Thank you to everyone who liked and reblogged chapter 1 of this series. I really appreciate it <3 Happy reading, bubs!

Links: Read on AO3 | Chapter guide | Masterlist

just friends

September 8, 2024

There’s nothing I hate more than arrogant women. That’s why I had to kill her.

All I wanted was for her to smile at me. She wouldn’t. I filled her room with all her favorite things and even loosened her handcuffs. But she was so fucking hard-headed it drove me crazy. The little bitch even dared to spit at me. I had to teach her a lesson. I had to let out my anger somehow.

For a while, it was exciting to watch her writhe in pain. I can’t even begin to describe how thrilling it is to see how much a human can tolerate until they break. I told her it was compensation for the look she gave me the day we met. She kept lying and saying she didn’t even remember having bumped into me on the street.

I really wish she could’ve bounced back this time. I’m so lonely without her now. I miss her.

Humans are social by nature, it's what all the books say. When one is young, we need protection and love from our caregivers. As we grow, our world gradually expands and we bond with other people — friends from school, teachers, neighbors, coworkers. If one must stick to tradition, there's bound to be a romantic relationship to develop at some point. But for some people, that imposed path doesn't come naturally. Or rather, there have been blockages throughout the years that resulted in stunted social growth.

That's where you find yourself. It's not your fault. When one grows up forced to believe she's nothing but a burden, it's only natural to try to take up as little space as possible. But again, it's not your fault. One doesn't acquire those thoughts on their own.

You ruined my life!

As much as wellness and self-help gurus will preach there's a place in the world for everyone, self-awareness keeps you from blinding yourself toward the baggage you carry. It wouldn't be fair to lay that on anyone else.

So you've shrunk yourself. No making yourself seen, no making yourself heard. No talking outside of what is strictly necessary to survive. No inserting yourself into other's lives. For the most part, it's worked. Albeit, you've been deemed unlikable, weird, and rude. It's better this way. There's no use in putting yourself out there if there's so much to feel ashamed of. It's too much to trouble others with your pitiful self.

Who in the world would want to put up with you?

After the usual snarky murmurs and judgmental glances, you're rarely acknowledged save for when someone — usually a man — tries to “take a crack” at you and the whispers float in the air for another while. Other than that, you're at peace with yourself. You're almost convinced you've developed invisibility powers.

That is until Armin came along. At first, you sighed at the prospect of going over your routine yet again. Cementing boundaries and erasing any hope that it just takes the right guy to “loosen you up”. It was disgusting to have your quietness be misinterpreted for arrogance by the men at work. Even if that were the case, who was anybody to assume you needed to be knocked down a peg through sexual advances?

But Armin proved himself to be different. He tore away at your skepticism by simply being kind with no ulterior motives. Men can be so stupid. They'll believe a girl can't pick up when they're being slimy. It must've shocked them when you started having lunch with Armin more frequently.

It was thanks to him that you slowly expanded your world's limits. It was because of him that you began to question the voice that rang in your ears. After receiving the housewarming party invitation, you wondered whether to step forward or back. There was no denying Armin's expansion had awoken something in you. You wanted company — craved it — but you didn't want to risk bringing trouble into the group. What if Armin was an anomaly and the things that echoed in your head were true? Maybe Armin wasn't an anomaly at all, he just didn't know enough about you. You certainly didn't let him in enough.

In the end, your heart overruled your brain. You wanted more. With a hopeful heart, you went to the party.

A heavy sigh slips past your lips as you pick at your dinner on Sunday night. Your hair is still damp from the shower and it rests uncomfortably along your neck. Your phone lies next to your plate, buzzing every few seconds to match the texts that come into the group chat — arrangements are taking place for the next get-together with Armin and his friends.

After your moment of realization on the balcony, you faked a yawn and went back inside to pretend to fall asleep.

This morning, you avoided being alone with Eren. Not out of fear of something happening, but you needed to sort out your feelings on the situation.

There's no denying Eren is an attractive man — but that doesn't faze you.

Catching Eren's eye wasn't something you planned. Your world suddenly expanded outside of your will — out of your control. You're not annoyed, just overwhelmed.

Being the center of someone's attention means more expectations, more to live up to — he has no idea you're not the kind of girl he needs. Nobody needs someone who's a burden. It's not as if you're open to reciprocating any special attention, anyway.

If history has taught you anything, it’s that love isn't in the cards for you. It's best not to entertain any silly ideas.

Friendships are tricky, but no more than romance — or whatever crossed Eren's mind each time he looked at you. Keeping to oneself is easier than either one. But with the latter idea being too late to return to, you'll have to nip this problem in the bud.

The few hours before lunchtime seem to drag slower every Monday. Given that sparing time to eat was nothing but another task to check off your to-do list, you never used to pay much attention to the clock. But since Armin, lunchtime means more than bringing food to your mouth, methodically stretching your pace to fit the length of your lunch break.

Now it means meeting with a friend, having someone fill in the silence with tales from the accounting department, and occasionally going on quick drives to Kuchel.

So when you venture off to his cubicle, only for him to tell you he's swamped with work and won't have lunch until later, you're mildly disappointed. You don't let it show. After all, work trumps your trivial need for company.

So you wish him good luck and return to your desk. Without any conversation to fill in the minutes, you finish your food fairly quickly. When you glance at the time on your phone, barely fifteen minutes have passed. Your fingers tap rhythmically against your desk before you decidedly stand, grab your bag, and head for the elevator.

The coffee shop on the corner of the street has been your go-to spot since you started working here. You've been there alone and with Armin. It's where your feet take you on the rare occasions when Armin is too busy. There's nothing wrong with the in-house coffee kiosk from your office building, but you find more comfort in being surrounded by strangers who keep to themselves than bumping into someone who doesn't like you.

The early September days serve as a transition into cooler temperatures. A light breeze has added to the warmth leftover from summer. The leaves have yet to develop a clear change in color, but some yellow streaks are popping up here and there. The beginning of autumn pushes you toward all things cozy. By the time you reach the shop, you've got your heart set on having a warm cup of cinnamon tea.

You settle at a table, place your order, grab a book from your bag, and wait. Before you can reach the second paragraph of your read, a shadow casts over your left side, forcing you to look up in confusion. It's too soon for your tea to be ready.

You're met with striking green eyes and plump lips that pronounce a bashful hi.

It's a strange coincidence. You wish you could say you've never seen him around here before, but you've never bothered to commit any face to memory if it's not necessary.

“Eren, hi.”

The tint on his cheeks you remember so well from two nights ago resurfaces. A nervous swallow pulls at your throat. You never did map out a plan — then again, you weren't expecting to see him again so soon.

“I wasn't sure if it was you. Are you here with someone?” he asks, taking a second to look around the shop.

You shake your head.

“No. Armin's busy so I came here alone,” you explain.

He nods, rocking his weight on his heels. A question seems to linger on the tip of his tongue as his gaze flits between you and the floor. It takes him a moment for him to find his voice, though. In spite of yourself, you have to admit it's actually a bit endearing. It's different. It's refreshing.

“Is it okay if I sit with you?” His eyes are overflowing with hope.

You nod. He sits. The book in your hands is put away.

For a while last night, you debated the validity of your theory. Maybe Eren wasn't interested in you in the way you thought. After all, it was your first time meeting and he might’ve been nervous. You know enough about the way you present yourself to acknowledge you're not the most approachable person. Maybe all he needs is time to get used to you.

“Do you want to order something?” You ask, prepared to wave over a server. He stops you with a dismissive hand.

“It's okay, I already had some tea.”

Your eyebrows rise in surprise.

“Not a coffee guy?”

He shakes his head, sputtering a nervous chuckle.

“Not really. I don't like bitter things.” His nose scrunches as if he can savor it on his tongue.

A server brings over your tea along with a small tray of additives. You thank them before returning to Eren's statement.

“You can always add sugar,” you point out with a shrug.

He shakes his head again. This time you're relieved to find a playful smile dancing on his lips.

“Nothing can beat tea with honey.”

Your hand pauses mid-air on its way to pick up the wooden wand half lost in a jar of golden syrup.

You hum in thought as you reach for the sugar spoon instead.

“Really?”

“Yeah. That's how my mom made it for me when I was little. I'd get a stomachache or a cold and it was the first thing she'd make for me. I feel like a kid each time I drink it. It makes me think of her.”

The corners of his lips tug into a smile. You find yourself mirroring his expression as you look down at your hand stirring the sugar into your tea.

“Your mom sounds nice,” you murmur.

“Oh, she's the best. I love her.”

Eren's shoulders relax. He feels at ease talking about his mom. He feels even better knowing he's successfully carrying out a casual conversation with you. In the light of day, everything is less scary. There's less to worry about. That carefree feeling blankets over everything. Suddenly, the motive he walked into this coffee shop for seems doable.

Then a sinking feeling comes over his stomach.

“Sorry.” The word bounces off his tongue without thinking.

“What for?”

He doesn't want to say it, but he hopes his apologetic gaze is enough to convey an explanation.

Your eyebrows shoot up in realization at his hesitance. Then they furrow as you press your lips into a fine line and shake your head dismissively.

“Oh, that.”

The recall of Saturday night when you drunkenly talked about your mom causes your cheeks to flare with heat.

Guilt settles in Eren's stomach. He didn't mean to bring up his mom. He also didn't mean to be so quick to apologize. It just made things worse now that you know he's tiptoeing around you. That's probably the last thing you want — to feel purposely pitied.

Flustered, he rummages through his brain for a solution — a way to get back on the track he was on.

You fix your gaze on him. It's obvious he feels troubled. It's a foreign experience having someone worry so much about if they've caused you any harm. You're unsure of what feelings to associate with it other than guilt. He's not at fault for your crappy family life.

“So you and your mom are close?” you ask.

The crease in his forehead smoothes over.

When he shyly reconnects with your gaze, your eyebrows raise ever so slightly in encouragement. The movement is so subtle it's hard not to miss — but not for Eren, who takes in every detail of your face with so much care. For Eren, the small shifts in your features are so interesting to look at. You express so much with so little. And yet there were times when you would accentuate your expressions as much as you could. What you held back vocally was compensated tenfold through your face. It's fascinating to him.

“Yeah.”

His voice is soft — a trace of his withering embarrassment.

“She's my best friend,” he adds with a little more confidence.

You take a sip of tea. The drink warms your stomach, mirroring that of your chest elicited by Eren's words. The fondness in his voice taints him with a childlike innocence.

Eren Jaeger isn't worried about looking cool. He's honest and clumsy. It's charming.

A light shake of your head keeps your thoughts from drifting further.

“So not a coffee guy but a mama's boy, for sure. Got it.” You nod along with an overly serious expression painted on your face.

He laughs, the sinking feeling in his stomach now dissolving into nothing. Had he not been on the receiving end of your bluntly spoken teasing the other night, he might not have laughed so easily.

A blush spreads across his cheeks.

“Come on, don't tease me,” he mumbles.

You bite your lip to keep yourself from smiling. Eren falls back into his previously relaxed state.

The conversation continues to flow in between every sip of your tea.

“Do you come here often?” you ask as you prepare to take another sip.

Your eyes are locked on his. He struggles with the intense eye contact. At least, it's intense on his end.

“Not really. Armin mentioned it to me so I thought I'd try it out.”

The pads of his fingers drum a nervous beat on the table.

You nod, relieved. You'd feel silly if it had turned out he was a frequent customer and your disregard of the people surrounding you kept you from noticing him. It would've piled onto your embarrassment from the Kuchel incident.

“Ah, so are you on your lunch break, too? Do you work around here?”

“Um, kind of. I do media production and marketing for a museum, but I do a lot of hours at home. My place is just a few minutes by car.”

“That's so cool.”

The amazement in your voice in addition to its sudden turn up in volume is enough to make him blush.

“It's nothing special. I'm definitely not raking in the big bucks like Jean.”

“Still, it's cool. It's a lot more interesting than being an office manager.”

Your eyebrows scrunch together with newborn disdain for your job before you finish the remainder of your tea.

“Well, I can't argue there,” he says, imitating the sliver of bitterness in your voice.

You gasp in mock hurt.

“Hey, only I can say it.” Your tone is serious, but he knows you're joking. He can tell by the twinkle of amusement in your eyes.

He laughs.

“How long until you have to get back to work?”

You peek at the clock on the wall across the room.

“I still have some time. It's a short walk back, anyway.”

Despite your wording, your answer triggers his nervous antics. You're bound to part ways eventually and he swore to himself he would get the words out. He runs a hand through his hair to distract himself from the anxious flutter in his stomach.

It's no big deal, he thinks. She's just a girl.

He regrets not ordering something else when you asked him. It would give his hands something to do. Then again, he can't keep them from shaking as he gathers the courage to pronounce his next thought. So it's better he doesn't have any breakables in his hold.

He pronounces your name carefully. His heart skips a beat when your eyes meet his. It's strange to think that you hold so much power over him within just a couple of days since meeting. He wants to get closer — he needs to. Again, that feeling of wanting this moment with you to stretch farther squeezes at his chest.

“Do you want to hang out sometime? Just the two of us?”

He can feel himself growing numb to his surroundings as he awaits your response. It's similar to the feeling he gets after stepping foot off a rollercoaster. The adrenaline is pumping furiously through his veins while his mind goes blank. It's a weird moment of chaos and bliss all at once.

You clear your throat.

“So… a date?”

He swallows thickly and nods.

He watches you contemplate his proposal. Your lips are pressed in a fine line, your gaze low and brow furrowed.

It's too much to hope you're equally attracted to him — he's aware. But he hopes you like his company just enough to say yes. Or at the very least, you're curious to know more.

Your mind is in conflict. This is more than you've bargained for. All you wanted was to get along with Armin's friends.

“I'm sorry, Eren. No.”

He instantly deflates to your firm tone.

“It's nothing personal,” you explain. “You're a really nice guy. Really. But I'm not interested in dating… at all.” You sigh, dreading the pending words on your tongue. “And I don't really see you that way. I just want to be friends.”

He remains quiet, chewing on the inside of his cheeks as he processes your words.

The situation is uncomfortable for you, but his defeated form weighs heavier on your heart. He looks so small. It's definitely worse for him.

“Eren?”

Your voice grounds him.

“Sorry, I really spaced out there,” he nervously laughs. “Friends, though. Yeah, friends is good. Friends is perfect, actually.”

The word leaves a bitter taste on his tongue each time. He can pat himself on the back for shooting his shot later but, for now, his senses have been blurred by the disappointment of being turned down.

“I really like talking to you, Eren. Really.”

Your attempt to lighten the defeat on his shoulders works — a little. It's a relief you're not entirely opposed to having him around, at least. Eren finds comfort in that. Maybe it'll suffice while he fights away at his attraction.

“I like talking to you, too.” His voice carries a tint of helplessness.

Your eyes soften.

“I should get going.”

You pull out a fresh bill from your purse and place it under the empty teacup before standing.

He stands with you and holds the door open. It's not until you're both out on the sidewalk, bidding each other goodbye, that he forces a smile.

“I'll see you around.”

“Bye, Eren.”

“Sorry I couldn't make it to lunch,” Armin says. He leans against the edge of your desk with his hands in his pockets.

It's been an hour since you got back, and you've been typing away, replying to emails.

You shrug, tossing a small reassuring smile his way before focusing back on your computer screen.

“It's fine. I wasn't alone this time.”

He perks up.

“Really?”

You hum in affirmation.

“I went out for tea and bumped into your friend Eren.”

Armin's jaw falls open.

“Huh. Well, what do you know? That's a crazy coincidence.”

There's something suspicious about Armin's theatrical tone, but you're too engrossed in going over your email for typos to notice. You only manage to murmur a simple uh-huh.

“What'd you talk about?”

You send off your email with a satisfied click and look up at Armin as you lean back in your chair.

“Just this and that,” you reply nonchalantly.

His lips press into a dissatisfied line.

“Well, what do you think of him?” His eyes light up expectantly.

“He's…” You lose yourself in thought for a moment. Images of blushing cheeks, boyish smiles, and shimmering green eyes flash through your memory. You remember the honey and his simple confessions. “... like a little kid.”

Armin's face bears a mix of confusion and amusement.

“What do you mean by that?”

A soft pensive hum vibrates through your throat.

“Dorky,” you reply firmly.

Armin snorts, readying himself to come to Eren's defense, but you continue.

“He's… honest, like a little kid would be. And he's a little clumsy with his words but it's… Kind of endearing. He's a sweet guy.”

Armin nods along, his face serious. Finally, he smiles.

“Sounds like you had a nice talk, then.”

Date proposal aside, your moment with Eren was enjoyable. Even taking your rejection into account, you didn't sense any resentment directed at you and that just further proved your pure perception of him.

It's not the first time you've been asked out. It's certainly not the first time you've said no — that's always been your response, albeit for different reasons. A few guys in the office have tried getting closer to you but, even if you were open to dating, you can always tell it's nothing genuine from their approach. Their overly kind performance just makes it easier for you to decline. Once that's been done, their creepy narcissistic truths come to light — you're stoned with sexist slurs and disgusted looks. It'd hurt more if you were still the kind of person who craves approval from the wrong people.

There's a clear difference between them and Eren. So even though you rejected him, you still wish to be close as friends. He's a nice person to know.

“I did,” you tell Armin.

There's a shimmer in your eyes he manages to catch. Your features are soft and serene as you prop your chin on one hand while you mindlessly scroll through your emails with the other. Your lips are shaped into a discreet smile. Like a kid.

On his way back to his cubicle on the opposite end of the floor, Armin hums a cheerful tune to himself. There's a proud bounce in every step he takes.

“Armin, check your phone. It was buzzing like crazy a few minutes ago,” a female coworker says in passing before grabbing a manila folder from her desk and rushing off to a meeting room across the hall.

“Thanks, Mina!” he calls after her.

Armin taps the missed call notification on his screen and brings the phone to his ear, grinning expectantly.

“You suck,” Eren's voice comes through the speaker after the first ring.

“Woah, woah, woah. What did I do?” Armin laughs as he steps out onto the empty smoker's balcony.

There’s a groan on the other end.

“What do you think? I crashed and burned.”

Armin’s face contorts in confusion. From what he could gather on your end, the coffee shop incident went well. You were smiling, and although the things you said about Eren didn’t seem like it, you meant them fondly — Armin knew you well enough to confidently confirm that. At the very least, it meant you weren’t completely repulsed by his company. Even if there are different sides to every story, the discrepancies shouldn’t be anything major.

“What are you talking about?” Armin sighs.

Another groan on Eren’s end. If Armin wasn’t so patient, he would’ve hung up.

He really is like a little kid, he thinks.

“I asked her out and she said no.”

Armin’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. How could you keep that part out of the conversation you had earlier?

His shock doesn’t stem from your rejection, but rather because of Eren’s unexpected bravery. Although Eren was tough on the playground when they were kids, he grew up to be a fairly meek guy. When it comes to a girl he likes, he’s never been the bold type. Armin found it a bit strange at times. Eren’s had a track record of being popular among women, so his confidence should be over the roof and his personality, unbearable. But if he’s honest, it’s a good thing he doesn’t pay much attention to those things. It’s easier to root for a friend who only acts on more honest feelings. Even if that confidence didn’t stick with him.

“This is all your fault, Armin. So much for having my back.”

Even through the phone, Armin can tell his best friend is pouting. He has to hold back from rolling his eyes — it feels deceitful to do it behind his back when he has to play the role of a sympathetic friend right now.

He rubs at his nape, unsure of whether he should feel proud of Eren for making a move or apologetic for not contemplating what seemed like a far-fetched risk.

“To be fair, buddy, I didn’t send you over there to ask her out. I just thought you would like the chance to talk to her and get to know her a little better.”

“You couldn’t tell me that before? I don’t think I can ever face her again!” Eren half-yells.

Of course, Eren chooses to focus on the negatives. Armin cherry-picks the situations he meddles in. Even if it’ll serve as a confident boost to reveal to Eren what you said about him and how you said it, it could do him some good to bounce back on his own — and learn to pace himself.

“First off, you have to relax an—”

“I can’t.” Eren’s voice is reduced to an embarrassed murmur. “She makes me nervous. I can’t help myself.”

There’s a long moment of silence.

It’s been obvious from the start that Eren is attracted to you, but the near confession pulls at Armin’s heartstrings. It’s times like this when he’s reminded how cute Eren can be.

“That bad, huh?” Armin smiles down at the people walking on the street.

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m not in love with her or anything but…”

There's a long pause on Eren's side, only disturbed by some light rustling as he moves his phone around.

“... I like looking at her… and I like hearing her talk. Do you ever notice how soft her voice is? There’s just something about it… There’s this thing with her eyes, too, it’s crazy.”

“Well, as long as you’re not falling in love with her.”

Eren releases a third groan.

“Armin, please. I just want to get closer to her. And I don’t want to make myself look like an idiot each time we’re alone. I wish there was something I could do to make her like me.”

“I don’t think she dislikes you if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“She said she doesn’t see me that way. She just wants to be friends.”

Eren’s desolation is seeping through the phone now.

“Maybe I jumped the gun by asking her out so quickly.”

When Armin suggested Eren find you at the coffee shop during your lunch break, he figured it would help him get used to you. So that when the time came, he could ask you out without being more anxious than he needed to be. Had everything gone accordingly, Eren wouldn’t be moping now and wondering what would have happened — if anything was meant to happen — if he had just given you a little more time.

“Maybe,” Armin echoes.

“Do you think I blew it?”

Armin shakes his head even though there’s no way for Eren to tell.

“I think you just got a little excited. You never know how she might feel later on.”

“I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. I hardly think she’ll like me any better if I act like those guys who can’t take no for an answer. I should just try being her friend.”

Armin wants to beg him not to feel discouraged — that there’s a reason why he was so excited to introduce you to each other, and why he teased him at the housewarming party after he caught him blushing while doing the dishes with you.

It didn’t start that way but, the more he got to know you, the more he thought you and Eren would be good together.

Soft-spoken girl who keeps to herself meets the most dependable and kind-hearted boy.

Armin would be lying if he said he wasn’t swayed by the promised satisfaction of playing matchmaker in the fantasy playing out in his head. Not that he felt you absolutely needed to get together. But he could feel it in his gut. You and Eren could do each other a lot of good. He already knew Eren would feel a pull upon meeting you and, if there’s anything he gathered from both sides of the coffee shop incident, it’s that you like Eren enough to let him stick around. It was a good call on your end, though he may be biased.

If you happen to fall in love along the way, then so be it.

“You’re a good guy, Eren. Everything will turn out fine.”

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