#he gave the entire thing a very clinical approach and never once considered that these were actual people that he was butchering | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

haledamage · 3 years

Text

Coming Home

I'm a day late because this thing got much bigger than I expected, but better late than never! This is for @shepherds-of-haven Shepherds Summer 2021! The prompt was Pacific Rim AU!

Some of the backstory stuff is from this post here. Some is just pushing ShoH canon slightly to the left so it fits better in a Pacific Rim setting. Some is the result of reading ShoH and watching PacRim at the same time and then taking a nap to see what seeds got planted. There will be a part 2 to this because I had to split it up in order to finish it on time and then I was late anyway.

Shepherds of Haven/Pacific Rim AU. Iorwen Emroth/Blade Bronwyn (well, hints of it. more in part 2)

---

The Haven Shatterdome looked very small from overhead. Iorwen watched it loom closer with a trepidation somewhere between “being late for an important exam” and “being read her last rites.”

It had been just over two years since she’d last been this close to a Jaeger, half a world away and in a different life, but all the Shatterdomes looked the same after a while. Steel and glass and everything painted in olive drab, black, and safety yellow.

Part of her felt like it was too soon to walk into those hangar doors again, the empty space at her side where her partner used to be still a raw, open wound. She couldn’t even think xer name yet without feeling like she couldn’t breathe. Returning to work felt like a betrayal of xer memory.

Another part of her, louder with every passing minute, was just so happy to be home again.

"Wen!"

Iorwen had barely stepped out of the helicopter when she heard her name called and turned to see Red jogging toward her. He looked more tired than she remembered him, but his smile was as bright as ever, his hair vivid against their otherwise drab surroundings. She’d known he was here - he’d transferred to Haven shortly after she left Capra - but hearing it and actually seeing him were two very different things.

She dropped her bag carelessly to the tarmac and ran to meet him halfway, throwing herself at him as soon as he was close enough to wrap her arms around his neck. He hugged her back without hesitation. They were making a Hel of a scene in the middle of the landing pad, but neither of them really cared.

"I knew you'd come back," he mumbled into her hair.

"Had to." She finally pulled away, stepping back just enough that she could see him. "You can barely tie your shoes without me, Liefred."

He only laughed before leaving her side just long enough to grab her bag. He slung an arm around her shoulders as he rejoined her, dragging her towards the hangar. "Welcome home."

She stared up at the Shatterdome, hangar doors towering over them. It didn't look nearly as welcoming as Red seemed to think it should, and was much more intimidating than it had been from the air. It still smelled like blood and motor oil - or maybe it was her memory that did.

She tried to put on her best smile anyway, for his sake if not her own, and let him drag her inside.

They stepped into a hive of activity, the sounds of machinery and voices echoing off the walls, laughter and shouting and clanging metal rising up to greet them. She tried to stop and take it in, but Red was still dragging her along with him out of the main hangar and into a labyrinth of hallways; she probably could have escaped him if she tried, but she didn’t really want to.

“Have you met the Marshal yet?” he asked, once they were in a quiet enough place that he didn’t have to yell to be heard.

“Not yet. Mostly talked to his second so far.” Trouble Alder had, in fact, shown up out of the blue one day three months ago, sitting on her front porch with a stick of charch between his lips and looking completely at home. He’d revisited her every day for a month until he’d finally worn her down enough to convince her to come home. Stubborn bastard. “What's he like?”

“Intense,” Red answered almost immediately. “Most of the younger crew are terrified of him. He doesn't like me.”

Iorwen scoffed. “Bullshit. You’re the most exceptionally likeable person I’ve ever met. Everyone likes you.”

“He doesn't.”

They stopped in front of a door in what was probably the barracks, the walls lined with identical doors on either side. Sure enough, there was a simple bed, a dresser, and not much else inside. Iorwen didn’t mind; she didn’t need much else.

Once she’d dropped off her bag and they started down the next hallway, Red continued, “I don't know if he likes anyone. He barely says two words to anyone but Trouble.”

She was still skeptical, but didn’t push. “Well, he must be doing something right. Look at this place. Capra barely had a skeleton crew compared to this.”

“It’s amazing!” Just like that, Red lit up again. “Some of Blest’s best and brightest are here. Pilots, mechanics, scientists, strategists, you name it.”

“And which of those are you? All of the above?”

“Mostly scientist, I think,” Red rubbed a sheepish hand over his hair. “There’s better pilots. Pan, Neon, and I serve better in the lab than on the field most of the time.” He paused, watching her cautiously, before adding carefully, “And… which will you be?”

“I’ll be working in the clinic,” she said quickly. “As a Healer. I’m not… ready to be around Jaegers again. I might never be.”

“I understand,” he assured her, reaching out to put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “We all do.”

They fell silent after that, and stayed that way until they stopped in front of a door labelled Administration. “This is Shery’s office. She’ll get you all set up.”

“Thanks, Red.”

“Anytime.” With one final quick hug, he turned to leave, only to stop halfway down the hall. “Oh, and Wen?”

“Hmm?”

“Welcome to the Shepherds.”

---

It was two weeks before Iorwen finally met the Marshal, and it happened entirely by accident.

She had just finished a shift in the clinic, patching up minor burns and bruises on unlucky mechanics and restless pilots. The silence between Kaiju attacks left everyone on edge, and that led to carelessness, which inevitably meant stupid injuries. She didn’t mind. All things considered, she’d rather have the silence.

As she turned a corner, she noticed a light was on in the training room, and curiosity led her there without much input on her part.

She recognized the man in the room easily enough. Even if they’d never spoken directly, she’d seen him around enough to know who he was. He commanded the attention of a room like no one she’d ever met before. He was hard to look away from, even here, out of uniform and either unaware or uncaring of her presence.

Magnetic. That’s what he was.

He was also much younger than she expected for a Marshal. He was close to her own age, or at least she assumed he was. She wondered about the story there - obviously there must be one - but knew better than to ask the rumor mill. Gossip was like dust: inevitable, everywhere, and harder to see through the more you stirred it up.

The Marshal’s back stiffened, and Iorwen knew she’d been caught staring even before he glanced over his shoulder in her direction. She stepped into the room as casually as possible. “Hello, Marshal.”

He simply nodded, dark eyes unreadable. “Ranger.” She bit her lip to stop herself from correcting him. “Emroth, right?”

“Yes, sir.” She approached until she could finally see his face. “Iorwen.”

Another nod. “Blade.” She thought he would leave it there, but after a moment, he spoke again. “Antiqua speaks highly of you.”

“Of course he does. He's biased.” She laughed, rolling her eyes at the idea that Red was going around extolling her virtues to anyone who would listen. When the Marshal - Blade, she mentally corrected herself - gave her a look that she interpreted as curiosity, she elaborated. “We trained together as cadets. He was my first Drift partner actually.”

“But you never piloted together?”

“No. It…” Iorwen broke eye contact, the floor suddenly fascinating. “It didn't work out that way.”

“It's not too late,” he said, almost softly.

“Yes it is. I'm not a Ranger anymore. Not after…” Xer name got stuck in her throat, like it always did. She took a couple of deep breaths until she could comfortably breathe around it again, but her smile was still sad. “I'm happier on the ground. I'm a good Healer. It's where I should be.”

She could feel Blade’s eyes on her, but she didn’t look back up to meet them. Eventually, all he said was, “I see.”

He turned his back on her again and it didn’t take long before her gaze was drawn to him again. He was wearing a tank top, like most people did when they came here to train or spar, and standing this close she could clearly see the web of electrical scarring trailing over his arm and shoulder.

She knew those scars well. The scars of someone forced to solo pilot a Jaeger. She should know, she had a matching set.

Blade did an admirable job of pretending he didn’t know he was being observed, but he moved too carefully for it to look entirely casual. Or maybe he just always moved like that. He picked up a bo staff and tested the weight of it.

Iorwen took the opportunity that presented without thought or hesitation. “Looking for a dance partner?”

The briefest flash of surprise crossed his face before his expression smoothed back out. “Are you… sure?” he asked carefully. If she didn’t know better, she might say he almost sounded nervous.

She found it charming. She found him charming, with his not-quite-smile and his cool confidence, this magnetic man who could simultaneously terrify the cadets while inspiring absolute loyalty in them.

But she didn’t tell him that, of course. She just grabbed a staff of her own and grinned as she lifted it in a fencing salute. “On your guard, Marshal.”

---

After that first night, it became a regular thing. Not every day, not even on a set schedule. But sometimes after she was done in the clinic or in the garage, Iorwen would stop by the training room, and sometimes when she did, Blade would already be there. Not waiting for her, not exactly, but never surprised when she arrived.

He never really said much, but she didn't mind talking for the both of them. She could tell he was warming up to her, as the weeks passed; his silence felt much less formal and stiff and more cordial. Eventually, even friendly.

Two things were apparent from the very beginning, though. Well, three things. The first was that Blade, as a fighter, was completely out of her league. She never stopped by with any expectation of beating him; she was content to follow his lead. It was nice to be active again, to feel the familiar burn in muscles left dormant in her self-imposed retirement.

The second was that they were extremely drift compatible. While Iorwen could never beat him, she could consistently predict him. They could both be blindfolded and still know what move the other would make. There was an effortlessness to the way they understood each other that bordered on the supernatural. It was a kind of connection that she hadn’t felt since Zori had been killed.

The third thing was that neither of them were willing, in any way, shape, or form, to admit the second thing.

It was barely a week before Red found out.

He flopped down on the bench next to her in the cafeteria. “I brought those papers you were looking for to your room last night, but you weren’t there.” He didn’t say it as an accusation, but it still managed to feel like one.

“I spent a couple hours in the training room,” she said as casually as possible. “Trying to get back in shape.”

Red blinked a few times, letting that sink in, before smiling wide. “That’s really good. Let me know if you ever need a sparring partner.”

“I kind of… have one?”

“You do?” His smile went from friendly to devious, the look of a man who had four sisters and was willing to tease her as if she was a fifth. “Who?”

Before she could stop herself, she looked across the room at Blade. He sat at a table with Trouble, whose laughter was loud enough to reach them even from the other side of the busy cafeteria. The Marshal’s face remained impassive, looking like he wasn’t even listening, but Iorwen knew him well enough to tell he was amused.

As if he could feel her watching him, his eyes snapped up and locked on hers. She smiled at him; he nodded almost imperceptibly.

Red cleared his throat, and she looked away quickly, turning her attention back to the smugly amused grin of her best friend. “Well, I guess maybe it’s not everyone he doesn’t like.”

“Guess it’s just you.” She nudged his shoulder and he rubbed at it as if she’d hurt him. “He’s not as bad as you made him out to be.” She couldn’t stand his knowing look anymore and turned away, but doing so led her eyes right back to Blade. “He's nicer than he looks. And surprisingly funny. He doesn't treat me like I'm fragile. Like I'll break if someone talks about… Zori.”

Mentioning her former Drift partner and copilot didn’t hurt as much as she expected it to this time. Less like twisting a knife in her heart and more like being poked in a fresh bruise.

Mentioning xer also stopped whatever comment Red had been about to make right in its tracks. He studied her with obvious curiosity, mouth still half-open in surprise. Whatever he saw on her face had him leaning forward and tapping his forehead against hers, a quick gesture of affection and understanding. She leaned into it until he pulled away.

And then his teasing smile was back as if it had never left. “Plus, he's handsome.”

She eyed him warily, but let him have the subject change. “That too.” She picked up a piece of fruit from her plate and popped it into her mouth. “Please don’t say anything about this to Pan or Neon.”

“Scout’s honor.”

“I mean it, Red. Not a word.”

---

“So I hear you and the Marshal have a thing.”

Iorwen sighed from the very depths of her soul. “I hope Red knows how very dead he’s about to be.”

Panrachus looked legitimately confused at her response. “What? I didn’t hear that from Red, I heard it from Caine.” Then he gasped, eyes widening with sudden, delighted recognition. “What does Red know?”

She only barely bit back a groan. “Why are you even here?”

“Right! We’ve got something you oughta come see.”

She followed him, with more than a little trepidation, out of the clinic, through the office labyrinth, and out into the hangar. It took her a few minutes to get her bearings and realize where exactly they were going. “Why are we going to the Jaeger bays?” He didn’t answer. “Pan?”

Then they turned the corner, and she had her answer.

Looming over her was a Jaeger unlike any she’d seen before. It looked almost lanky, the proportions lean and sleek instead of the more familiar bulky designs. It would be unbelievably fast with the right pilots; she could tell that just from looking at it. From the top of each wrist, a wicked-looking blade extended over the hand, almost long enough to drag the ground. It was painted black, navy, and silver, but its eyes glowed bright blue.

From the ground, it almost looked like iladrin. Like the same blue light that lit Iorwen’s own eyes.

“What’s her name?” she whispered, unable to tear her eyes away from the Jaeger.

“Stellar Enigma.”

“Who’s piloting her?”

“You are.”

She jumped at the unexpected voice behind her and turned to see Blade, Red, and Trouble approaching, along with an entourage of what looked to be equal parts Shatterdome leadership, actual engineers, and nosy onlookers.

“You are,” Blade said again, quieter, softer, “Ranger.”

“Blade, I--” Iorwen started, but she wasn’t sure what she actually intended to say.

He reached up and lightly pinched her cheek, a faint smile on his lips. “You’ll be alright.”

Before she could reply, Trouble gently but pointedly cleared his throat, reminding her of their audience. She glared his way, just for a second; he grinned back, unabashed and unrepentant.

“Who’s my copilot? Sir.” She added the last as an afterthought, trying to act some semblance of professional.

“I get the feeling you already have someone in mind.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Bit early to be reading my thoughts, isn’t it, Marshal?”

---

Iorwen’s suit didn’t fit as well as she remembered. Tight around the shoulders, too loose at the waist. Like it was meant for someone else, no matter how many things tried to tell her otherwise.

Blade’s fit him like a second skin. He looked like a Jaeger cockpit was where he was always meant to be. Like it was the rest of the world that didn’t fit him right instead.

She met his inscrutable gaze before ‘admiring’ could cross the line to ‘ogling’. “You look good.”

He paused for a long time, staring back at her in silence, before finally clearing his throat. “You too.”

She grinned, both at the compliment and at the sight of the Marshal so off-balance, but she took pity on him and changed the subject. “Do you want the left or right?”

“Right.”

“Good. I prefer left.”

They didn’t speak anymore as they connected to their harnesses and their suits started interfacing with the Jaeger, the computerized voice talking them through system checks. It took longer than Iorwen remembered, but it had been a long time since she last Drifted with anyone, let alone with someone new.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked, once their helmets were in place and they’d run out of checks to do. “I’m not--”

“Yes,” he interrupted sharply. “You’re ready. We both are.”

There were a lot of things she wanted to say. To thank him, mostly, for a list of things that seemed to be growing bigger by the hour. She kept quiet; he’d hear it in her thoughts soon enough.

“Initiating neural handshake in 5… 4… 3… 2… 1… neural interface drift initiated.”

Between one breath and the next, she was somewhere else. Images flowed over her, some familiar, some new. She did her best to let them pass, to not cling too hard to any of them.

The destruction of Drummond's Point, the first attack the day the Kaiju came. Iorwen, dragging Zori's unconscious body out of town as fast as thirteen-year-old legs could carry her. Blade, stern and silent even as a child, a soldier from the day he was born. Zori, tears at the corners of xer eyes as xe laughs at a joke Pan told, Red and Neon joining in, the three of them always together even then. Blade's older brother, startlingly similar to him in appearance and demeanor, the two of them either sparring or fighting; for them, there had never been much difference.

Zori's scream as xe's ripped out of the cockpit. Gladius didn't make a sound as he met the same fate.

Iorwen's grief washed up against Blade's, soothing in it's familiarity. A gentle reminder that they weren't alone anymore, that thanks to the Drift they'd never be entirely alone again.

She saw him in her memory of their first meeting. Stern, aloof, but warm underneath, like a fire behind frosted glass. Captivating her before he even so much as looked at her.

And then herself through his eyes at that same introduction. Sad, withdrawn, but still burning bright. The embodiment of stubborn hope, like a flower blooming in a snowy field.

And then they broke through the surface, both gasping as they came up for air. Below them, Stellar Enigma came to life. The rush of memories and emotions settled into the background, present but no longer demanding attention.

“Pilot connection stabilized.” It wasn’t the computer’s voice this time, but Shery over the intercom. “How do you feel?”

Moving as one, Blade and Iorwen lifted their hands, right fist resting on left palm, and bowed. Stellar Enigma did the same, moving as smoothly as her pilots did. Iorwen couldn’t tell which of them the wave of elation came from, but it burst out of her in a laugh.

“It feels like coming home.”

#rhi writes #iorwen emroth #iorwen/blade #shepherds of haven #shepherds summer 2021 #part 2 will finally get to a kaiju battle #and also will have some actual romance instead of just hints of romantic tension lol #(will probably also have a small cameo from miss elyana trick and whiplash gunsmoke because why not)#and yes I borrowed a few lines from shoh (especially the dancing and 'trying on fancy clothes' scenes)#because they seemed appropriate and also because it was fun

27 notes · View notes

dwellordream · 3 years

Text

the best laid plans

day 1 for @wayhavensummer because this is the only prompt I'll have time to do this week!

T Rating (for one brief mention of sex and one brief reference to emotional abuse) Felix x Detective Esme Kingston, 2300 words

The migraine cuts her to her core, and Esme can’t even manage the usual dose of guilt and hesitance she’d feel about canceling plans with Tina. They were supposed to go away this weekend, and Esme hasn’t been on a vacation since uni, but right now she couldn’t even make her way out of her flat, never mind into a car for a seven hour drive down the coast.

She feels like vomiting, the pain is so intense, as if she’d been concussed. Migraines have been a constant for her since puberty; she has a vivid memory of her first one, when she was thirteen, and the long wait in the nurse’s office at the private school her mother paid so much money for. The same mother who eventually sent someone else to pick her up, ninety minutes after the first phone call.

Esme doesn’t even remember who it was; some Agency intern? A vampire? A demon? Whoever it was, they brought her home, gave her some painkillers, and told her to sleep it off. She woke up hours later, in the middle of the night, to a still empty house. Rebecca had come home briefly to leave a note for her about some leftovers in the fridge and another one excusing her from school the next day if need be, and then gone straight back to work.

Maybe Esme should have been outraged or hurt by this, but she doesn’t recall feeling much of anything at the time beyond hunger, when the pain had finally receded enough to think straight. She ate the leftovers cold in their sterile, silent kitchen, and put herself back to bed.

The migraines had intensified through high school, to the point where her mother considered putting her on permanent medication, before receding just before she went away to university. After that they were far more infrequent, which was both a blessing and a curse- it was easy to forget what the pain felt like, and to feel like it was weak, lazy of her to let it get the best of her.

Bobby certainly didn’t help matters; the first one Esme had during their relationship came around shortly after they’d had sex for the first few times, and Bobby quickly became convinced this was her version of ‘not tonight, dear, I have a headache-’. That she was, for some ludicrous reason, exaggerating her migraines.

If she didn’t want to have sex with him, she’d never had much of an issue saying as much, bluntly, clinically. Another thing he despaired of- her lack of social graces, her insistence on saying exactly what she meant, in her usual ‘ice queen’ manner. Now he had reason to call her frigid in more ways than one.

Esme still isn’t sure how things between them ever lasted as long as seven torturous months. She assumes they both had a private masochistic streak- why else would two people who made one another so blatantly unhappy stay together?

Bobby isn’t here now, of course, to whinge and moan about her ignoring him, but there’s still a little voice in her head telling her to get up and stop acting like a baby when the evening rolls around. The pain has greatly lessened, thankfully, and she’s hungry, which is usually a good sign, but she’s also exhausted and cranky and generally miserable, feeling as though an entire day was wasted, one she could have spent with her best friend, on her way to a vacation.

Now, again, she is alone in a dark room. She slowly rolls over onto her side, bracing for a wave of pain or nausea, then pushes herself up onto her elbows and gropes at her night table for her phone. She has several missed calls and texts. Two from Tina, one from her mother, and one from Felix, which is the most recent, about thirty minutes ago.

Felix H: omw over to drop stuff off. 30 min???

She checks the time, then jumps, almost bashing her head into the headboard, when she hears a quiet knock at her door. For a moment Esme considers lying back down and not answering it; Felix can be persistent but he would never try to break her door down, especially when he knows she’s ill.

Then she clambers out of bed, some instinct driving her, a desperate kind of loneliness- for an instant tears spring to her eyes, as if she were a child again, terrified of being left alone, that she will just miss him, that she will pull open the door and he will already be gone-

“Ez?”

He’s right there when she yanks open the door, the chain still in place. Esme undoes it and pulls the door open all the way. Felix is staring at her, a small bag of groceries in hand. Vampires have far better temperature regulation than humans but it’s obvious he is feeling the heat; for once he’s not wearing a beanie or any kind of hat or cap at all.

He’s gotten his hair braided recently; Esme looks at him for a moment, staggered by the fact, as always, that even in the harsh fluorescent lighting of her narrow hallway. Felix’s dark skin has a sheen all its own, magnified by his golden eyes.

He prods her shoulder gently with the pad of his thumb. “If you faint on me, I’m gonna drop your gifts.”

“My gifts?” Esme shakes her head, leading the way back into her darkened flat. It’s much more cluttered than usual; she never finished packing for the trip she was supposed to take today.

Felix does not reach for a light switch; he has perfect vision in the dark, and light from the parking lot is spilling through her blinds. Instead he sets the bag on her counter and sorts through it as enthusiastically as Santa Claus on Christmas, or a child sorting through their Halloween candy.

“Min tea,” he says, “cold packs, squash, sweet potatoes, brown rice, dried cranberries…”

“Did you just look up ‘what to eat and drink for a migraine’?” Esme manages to ask, bemused.

He looks up, a sheepish smile quirking at his soft lips. “If I say yes…”

“I’m impressed,” she says. “And.. thank you. Very much. You didn’t have to do this.”

“I didn’t have to supply my ailing girlfriend with nutritious food and drink?” he waves the bottle of mint teat in her face vigorously.

“Ailing? I’m not eighty five years old, Felix.”

“That’s right, I’m the old man here,’ he cackles, then amends, “Or, will be. Technically we’re not that far apart in age but eventually when you start decaying-,”

“Decaying?” As usual, his word choice both horrifies and amuses her.

Felix has even less of a filter than her, but with the opposite effect. She comes across as cold and controlling. He comes across as… well, ‘space cadet’ has been used a few times, but Esme likens it to a time traveler. Only, not from the past, and not quite from the future. A parallel visitor. Something out of the Twilight Zone, only… warm and colorful and eager to please. That’s Felix.

He shrugs. “Succumbing to the elements?”

“I’m not a castle,” she mutters, but pours herself a cup of cold mint tea. Will it be as good as if she’d brewed it herself here at home, no, but at the moment she doesn’t care.

He puts the rest away in her small fridge while she drinks, leaving out the cranberries, then circles warily, as if approaching a wild animal, when she finishes off her cup. “Can I-,” his fingers ghost along the back of her neck. The hairs there raise and she shivers violently, but not in fear or pain.

“Yes,” she murmurs, then leans back into his embrace as he wraps his arms around her.

They scuttle over to the sofa like that, and ease down together. Felix is not terribly tall, and she is average height, so there’s scarcely a few inches between them. Esme has always liked that. All the others she’s been with had towered over her, and it made her feel spoilt and delicate in an undesirable, bratty kind of way, as if she were childish, some little princess to be coddled and indulged. Or maybe that’s just her projecting onto everything else that makes up a relationship besides height differences.

For now, she is content to lie back so her head rests against Felix’s, cheek to cheek. His is silken smooth; she knows he is fastidious about shaving, the same as her.

“You’re feeling better, though?” he murmurs, and snakes a hand under her pyjama top as if to check. Splayed warm against her belly, it tickles for an instant and she smiles.

“Yes. It’s mostly passed. I’m just tired. And annoyed. Tina was really looking forward to this trip. She’ll still have fun by herself, but it was supposed to be the two of us, and I’m always canceling plans.”

“You are not,” says Felix, reasonably. “You’re just busy. And you couldn’t help it this time, you were sick. She knows that.”

Esme nods; for all his jokes and quips, Felix is always sensible in a manner that she finds comforting- stating the obvious isn’t such a bad thing when dealing with someone like her.

“I hate being sick,” she murmurs, rolling onto her side so she can rest her cheek on his shoulder. He wraps his arms around her more securely, even intertwines their legs. Felix sleeps like this too, though at this point he’s only spent the night a few times.

Esme is taking things as slowly as she dares, given all the other factors at play- her mother, their work, the rest of the team, the fact that he is a vampire from another dimension and she is the human equivalent of dry toast…

“I kind of like it,” Felix confesses, with just enough lilt in his voice that she knows he’s half teasing.

Esme grumbles vengefully into his shirt. He smells like coconut butter and vanilla. She doesn’t know if that’s his aftershave or just the essence of Felix, refined to the purest degree. Sometimes he smells like cinnamon to her, or lavender and honeysuckle.

Felix tolerates these assessments but likes to claim that it’s him producing some kind of super pheromones perfectly designed for luring in unsuspecting human prey. Or his girlfriend. Or both.

Esme has not been anyone’s girlfriend in a long time. Years. It feels very strange. Before him, it’d been so long since she’d even touched anyone, besides Tina or her mother or shaking hands. That absence did not hurt Esme. But being with Felix is like an unexpected delight. Free dessert. Extra sprinkles on your sundae. Any number of juvenile metaphors she should be above, but isn’t.

“You’re not going to ask why I like it?” He is winding his fingers through her hair, which she let down from its usual tight ponytail to ease the tension on her scalp.

“Because you like to mock me?” she ventures.

“No,” says Felix. “Because you would have gone away with Tina, and now I get to see you. And hold you.” He presses an astoundingly gentle kiss to her brow, like a feather.

Esme feels a queer stab of guilt. “I didn’t know you’d minded so much.”

“I don’t mind,” he says quickly. “I was happy for you to get away for once. I’m not going to third wheel you and your best friend.”

“I think the terms refers to the opposite-,”

“Hush hush,” he interrupts, which gets a giggle out of her. “But this is like… an unexpected delight.”

The back of her neck prickles. “Can you read minds?” she asks, half serious.

“Not yet,” he sounds smug. “I have great intuition.”

“Because you’re a vampire?”

“No, because I’m me,” he boasts. “Look at Ava’s intuition. Terrible.”

Esme laughs again. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“She’s always expecting the worse. And Nat swings in the other direction. Always wants to play nice and hug it out.”

“And Mason?” Esme teases, feeling energetic enough not to raise her head so her chin is on his chest. Their noses are almost touching.

“Eh… he’s alright,” Felix breathes, and then closes the gap with a kiss.

Esme kisses him back, more passionately than she’d meant to, and only stops it when he starts to sit up so she is straddling his lap.

“I don’t think I can…”

“Eat some cranberries?” He grins impishly and hands her the bag from the coffee table.

Esme smiles and bumps her forehead against his, something she did impulsively after their first kiss and which he never let her live down.

“What are we, cats?” he says, on cue, but brushes his nose and lips down her cheek and onto her neck, as if to nuzzle her in turn. “Eat some fruit before your migraine comes back. Do you want me to put some of this stuff away?”

“No,” she says, pushing him back down on the sofa. “Just- stay with me, please?”

“Alright,” he agrees, amiable as ever, and reaches for the remote. “This can be like our vacation, yeah? The Felix and Esme Show. The Fezme Show-,”

“No,” she groans, but wriggles off him to curl up beside him instead, a handful of cranberries rising to her mouth as he flips through the channels.

He settles on an episode of Columbo. Felix hasn’t really seen much in the way of TV, and so reruns mean nothing to him. But it means everything to her. They keep the volume on very low, and he gets up at one point to open the windows more, even as the faint sounds of the parking lot outside drift in- the buzz of the lights, doors opening and closing, the crunch of gravel.

Esme falls asleep sagging onto him, cranberries in her lap, mouth half open while Felix watches, riveted in the light of the screen, as the detective closes the case.

#wayhaven summer #the wayhaven chronicles #felix hauville #esme kingston #one shot #prompt fill

15 notes · View notes

sdvharveybby · 3 years

Note

*ahem* PLEASE DO A FIC BASED OFF YOUR HARVEY AND PREGNANT WIFE HEADCANNONS PLEASE

ASK AND YE SHALL RECEIVE DEAR BBY ANON. I was honestly so excited to write this that I wrote it in a few hours. Just woo!

The headcannons were my inspiration for this, but I hope I captured everything :0

**edit** Headcannons post where this all came from -- Here!

I had a lot of emotions, myself, when writing this. Mostly do to personal reasons, but I enjoy writing about Harvey in this way. I think it truly captures his nervous, but caring personality. That he would do all that he could to provide the best care for his pregnant wife.

In any case, I hate to say it, but I feel like this jumped around a bit- heh. Honestly there was so much I enjoyed from the headcannons that it was genuinely hard to pick just a few! I hope you enjoyed this though! I did my best and loved every minute of it! Thank you so much for the ask! (Also, the small ‘ahem’ in the beginning legit killed me. It’s so funny)

Word Count: 1918

The farmer cracked open her eyes one sunny morning. She could tell she slept in past 6am, but she was too groggy to be mad; her body felt stiff and her mind heavy, as if a headache was coming on. She pulled the covers over her head and shifted her body to try and get more sleep- she would have fallen asleep if she didn’t start to feel nauseated. It came on quickly and was growing more, the farmer shot up from her bed throwing the blanket behind her. She covered her mouth and bounded towards the bathroom, “H-Honey?” she could faintly hear as she ran past Harvey holding a plate of breakfast for her. The farmer barely made it to the toilet when she threw up any contents in her stomach. With heavy footsteps, Harvey ran into the bathroom after her, “Honey, are you-. Oh, I see.” He remarked as he crouched beside her and pulled her hair back. “I have some water here,” he mentioned as he switched hands to stroke her back as she threw up again.

There was a momentary pause as the farmer tried to gather her breath, “Oh, wow,” she whispered to Harvey. “I know, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” He reassured to her, giving her a soft kiss on her forehead. She would have appreciated it more if she didn’t immediately throw up again, “I promise that’s not because you kissed me,” she chuckled to herself. Harvey laughed and continued stroking her back until she felt like it was over. He handed her some water and walked back to the kitchen to grab medicine and a lemon slice. When he came back, she was standing and holding her head, “Maybe you should lay back down. I asked Marnie to help me with your farm work today so there’s nothing for you too worry about.” He smiled and the farmer nodded her head in agreement. She took the medicine that Harvey offered and grasped the lemon slice in her hand, walking away and smelling it. “Oh, we have a long way to go, but I’ll be here for every minute of it.” He whispered to himself with a soft smile.

After a few weeks of helping her with her morning sickness, it had quickly become about 30ish weeks since they found out that she was pregnant. Every day it was a surreal moment for Harvey, he almost couldn’t believe that it was true. The closer it was to her due date, the more he got emotional- many years he spent pent up in his apartment above the clinic. Many sleepless nights and many lonely ones- it was an eye-opening moment for him when he realized he would be a father. It scared him, no doubt. He feared he wouldn’t be good enough or if he provide enough for his family. What if his child didn’t like him? What if they rejected him or liked his wife more? He knew he was overthinking it and that he would do his best to provide his wife and child with anything they wanted, but he couldn’t help to think of his worst-case scenarios sometimes.

He still worked at the clinic, Tuesdays, and Thursdays to do annual check-ups on everyone in town. He compiled a list of questions to ask when he knew one of the mothers in town would be coming in. It was Summer, day 18, and he knew Robin would be coming in. He decided to ask her because she took things seriously but kept things light enough that he would be most comfortable asking her.

He stood and approached the front door when he saw Robin already inside and waiting, “Hey, Doc,” she smiled as she stood. “Hello, Robin! Follow me.” They made there way into the back as Robin complained of her right arm hurting again, “I’ll take a look, but it’s probably because you work too much. You need to give your arm a break now and again from swinging your ax,” She laughed a bit, “Yeah, but you know how I feel about that.” He sighed but carried on with her check-up. “Looks like you’re good Robin, but please give your arm a break!” He scolded her but she just held up a hand dismissing it. She began to walk out when Harvey stopped her, “Actually, could I ask you a few questions?” Perplexed, Robin sat on one of the stools in the room, “I’m all ears!” He smiled and pulled out a long list of questions he had- Robin peeked at some of them, her eyes wide with amusement. “Ha, you’re worried about being a dad, aren’t you?” Harvey blushed and broke her eye contact, “Well, yes, but also, I want to make sure I’m taking care of my wife well and wanted to ask your experience with pregnancy.” Perhaps… Robin wasn’t the best person to ask because she named off every single thing she could think of for providing the best care for the farmer. Robin made it her mission to prop up the farmer in every way to get her everything she wanted. It took about an hour of talking, but once Harvey understood it all-, she began walking to the door, “Oh, and when your wife suddenly breaks down into tears, just hold her. Sometimes it’s best not to ask questions!” She laughed, leaving Harvey a bit confused.

He made his way home from work, reviewing everything he and Robin talked about. She was so quick to answer every question he had, but she reassured him in all the ways possible. His biggest stress relief is when she looked at him with honest eyes and said, “Harvey, you’re thinking about this too much. You’re going to be a great dad. Just take every day as it comes.”

It calmed his thoughts greatly as he walked through the door. He was greeted with his wife sitting at the table, she turned and looked at him, “Welcome home, love.” He dropped his stuff to the ground and walked to his wife. She was a bit confused, but she smiled, “Everything okay?” Harvey bent down on his knees and hugged her and the baby. He was careful not to disturb the baby bump in any way, but he wanted to drink in his wife’s love after his day at work. She began combing her hands through his hair, “Everything is just fine.” He reassured her as he used his thumb to stroke her belly. It was peaceful to feel her love and feel accepted by her. He was floored that he was going to be a father, and he was humbled to know that he had the best wife in the entire world at his side.

He sprung up from their tender hug when he felt a kick against his hand. “O-oh! The baby! It kicked me, did you see it, honey?!” His eyes were wide with excitement, a rosy color growing in his cheeks. His wife giggled a bit as she watched her husband. His heart rate sprang up and he gently placed his hands on either side of her belly, he watched it carefully and said, “H-Hey! You can hear me! I’m your daddy! Yeah! I’m your father, and I promise to protect you for the rest of my life.” He gave her belly a soft kiss when he felt another kick. His eyes sparkled, brimming with tears, as he watched their child move within her. He helped women give birth for some time now- it never fazed him or affected him like this. This was something totally new that he was experiencing for the first time. This time it was different. This time it was their child- he married the woman he loved more than anything in this world and now he would get to watch his child grow before his very eyes. A few tears fell as he watched this unfold. It was a magical moment that brought tears to his wife’s eyes too. He hugged her belly, shedding a few more tears as he did so.

Through the rest of the night- things went on as they normally did. He would check her ankles to see if she had any swelling and he was relieved when she didn’t. He would rub lotion on her stomach to prevent any stretchmarks and routinely made healthy balanced dinners for his wife. Everyday he would brush his wife’s hair and style it like she normally does- course he messed up a few times, but eventually got the hang of it. She was internally grateful for Harvey. He provided her with as much comfort as he could, and whenever she had any cravings (no matter how weird) he would do his best to get them for her. He eventually started coming home with tomatoes though, considering that seemed to be what she requested the most. When Pierre would question him on all the tomatoes, he’d explain it for his wife. Pierre laughed and would send him on his way, “My wife requested tea leaves once! Not even the drink! Just the leaves!” Pierre would share through his laughter.

Everything had been going smoothly until he came home one night to find his wife in a fit of tears. He dropped anything he was holding and immediately ran by her side. She sat on the couch, holding a blanket to her chin, constantly wiping her eyes and blowing her nose. “What happened? Are you all right?” She didn’t respond, just continued to cry as she clutched the blanket. Retrieving her some water, he sat beside her and held her tightly. “It’s all right, I got you.” He whispered to her, which seemed to make her cry even harder. It overwhelmed him to say the least! He figured he would take this as any regular day, but she seemed to have other plans. He collected his own thoughts and wondered if this were the hormones talking, She should have primarily experienced this in the first trimester. They level off after a few months… He thought to himself as he continued to hold her. She finally broke through with a few hiccups of tears, “I was cleaning today- and- and,�� He had no idea what she was trying to say! She half mumbled them, but she continued, “and I saw the books on your table, and those love letters!” She cried again, clutching onto Harvey, Heh, well suppose I can’t surprise her with that now, he sighed with relief when she said this, “I planned to give you a love letter after you had had our child.” He explained and she sat up to blow her nose, “Th-that’s just so sweet,” she managed to say. Harvey grew a big smile when he saw her- any fears he had had melted away, and he had begun to shed a few tears himself. “You know I love you, right?” He spoke as he reached up and wiped away a few of her tears. She leaned against his hand, “I-I know.” “Mm,” He started and pulled her into another embrace, “No,” he whispered, “I mean really love you. You’ve given me everything I’ve ever wanted in my life. I love you with all my heart.”

The rest of their experience together went by smoothly for the remaining time. The time was approaching that they would both meet their child for the very first time, both elated and nervous, they had each other for support.

#sdv #sdv harvey #sdv story #sdv fic #harvey stardew valley #stardew valley harvey #stardew farmer #stardew valley #stardew harvey #stardew valley farmer #sdv ask #sdv farmer

47 notes · View notes

hoochieforcalum · 4 years

Text

Above the City | c.t.h.

this sounds random but can you do a ceo!Cal and you’re his assistant (plus sized) & he finds out maybe you’re a Virgin bc of a convo they guys you spark up (even though you’re shy) and steamy shirt starts happening in his office 🥵

so, this was originally supposed to be apart of my plus size blurb weekend, but I loved this concept so much that I decided to make an entire OC fic based off of it -aliencal

ceo!calum x oc elle (she is plus sized!)

warnings: smut,,maybe some angst,,typos for sure

word count: 6k+

----------

“It’s going to be another long day Liz.” Elle sighed into her phone as she turned the corner. Her heels clicked against the concrete sidewalk as she strutted her way to the coffee shop. She could feel the cotton material of her plaid pencil skirt flapping against her knee, causing her to grow slightly irritated at the feeling. She knew that the skirt hardly fit her thick size, but considering she hadn’t the time to do her laundry this week, the skirt was the only thing she could find that made her look remotely business-like.

She heard Liz sigh over the phone, “Again? This guy has got you working all hours. Doesn’t he let you sleep?” Elle could feel a smile taking over her lips as she yanked open the door to the coffee shop. The sound of fresh coffee beans grinding together in the machine was echoing throughout the small, hole-in-the-wall shop, blocking out the indie music that was playing softly over the stereo for a small moment before silencing. Elle’s eyes quickly did a scan over of the shop, surveying the lack of customers and quickly coming to the conclusion that the shop was in it’s post-afternoon rush phase. Her analysis was only proven right when she saw the way the barista, who looked to be in high school or a freshman in college, lazily threw the dirty rag into the sink with a heavy sigh.

“Besides the weekend and my breaks, no. But you have to cut him some slack Liz. Christian groups are not letting up.” Elle said as she approached the counter where a young man stood waiting with a pen in his hand. She pulled the phone away from her ear, easily telling the boy the two usual's before lifting the phone back up. She could hear Liz groan.

“And? Why does he need you to help him sort out their hate letters?”

“It’s not just hate letters,” Elle said, throwing a five dollar bill into the jar as a tip before grabbing the cup of large black coffee and walking over to where they had the condiments laid out. She grabbed a french vanilla cream cup and began to add in the mixture. “There is also something going on at one of the branch facilities out East. And I’m his personal assistant Liz. I kind of have to help him with whatever he needs help with, so matter what I think or feel.”

“I know that miss attitude, but sleepless nights for paperwork? Yeah, I’m glad I didn’t join the corporate world.”

A cross between a scoff and a laugh left Elle’s throat, “Well not everyone decides to enter marine biology,” Elle noticed the same male placing the lid on her drink. “Hey, I gotta go okay? Save me something.” Elle quickly pressed the bright red button before grabbing the paper cup from the barista with a soft smile used as a silent thank you. She watched the guy - who looked to be roughly as old as an undergrad - give her a quick wink before wishing her a good day, but not without adding in a very uncomfortable gaze of her body. Elle felt her insides swarm with unease as she walked out the door, knowing fully well that the guy was staring at her backside as she walked. She gave herself a moment before shrugging off the feeling and walking back to her company.

Well, it wasn’t her company per say, but after being behind the scenes for roughly five months now, she felt like it was. But then again, that was the perk of being an intern to Calum Hood.

And Elle technically went above an intern. She was his personal assistant, which meant that she was with him everyday from 8AM to 11PM or until he would dismiss her. Calum was the CEO of Koa Healthcare Clinics, a moderately sized healthcare company that primarily focused on women’s health and reproductive rights, as well as regular treatments and screening for common colds or any other type of infection, virus, or health imperfection. Elle had been keen on getting into the medical world since she was a young girl, and once she heard that there was an opening with a man who had connections to every major hospital all across the United States, she jumped at the opportunity to become his personal assistant. She nearly cried when she found out she was selected, and from that night until the day Elle started as the personal assistant to Calum Hood, she dreamed of the job being filled with meeting top healthcare progressives and interesting new technologies that would advance the system or even see some new laws that he was trying to lobby for.

Instead, Elle got coffee runs, sore feet from walking back and forth between his office, the supply room, and the coffee shop; late nights with take-out and pure silence as she sorted through paperwork for new patients and whatnot while he did his thing; angry men in meetings who talked nothing of healthcare, but rather extension of new clinics; ink on her hands when the printer went askew; cold morning coffee which meant she’d have to brew a new pot; calls from Calum’s partners and meeting setups; setting up appointments for Calum that included dental and dinner plans; misogynistic and sexist coworkers that brag about their achievements in bed during every break and what “slut” they took out the night before; and hate from conservatives and Christian organizations claiming that she’d go to hell for even being associated with a company like Koa Healthcare Clinics.

She got the opposite of what she had dreamed of. Yet, the position paid well, and Elle was in her second year of medical school and needed the money to pay for her education. Alongside, Calum Hood was not the worst person to look at - or be near for that fact.

Elle would describe him as easy on the eyes. The man had a jaw structure that was unmatched, puffy cheeks that only accented and compliment his jaw structure, deep brown eyes that held more color to them when they were lit up in the sun, dark brown hair that softly curled upwards, tattoos on his hands and his left arm that were only shown when his sleeves were rolled up, big, plump lips that looked so soft, and a fit body type that nearly made all the female employees swoon - even Elle, but she wasn’t going to make it known to him. And yet, even though Elle had been, at first, thrown by how good-looking he was, she was even more thrown at the fact that Calum had never taken any of his anger out on her.

He never made Elle do anything in spite of his anger from his daily duties as a CEO, and he never screamed at her when he was upset or frustrated. Instead, his voice was always soft when he spoke to her. He always thanked her for everything she did, paid for every coffee and every take-out meal, made sure that his driver got her home safe before he went home, and always addressed her with respect and never looked down on her. And it shocked her.

She could hear Calum’s angry voice as she stepped into his large office. As per usual with any modernized, big corporate office, he had an entire glass wall that looked out over the city of Los Angeles - she could even see the Santa Monica Pier when it was lit up. His desk was a dark mahogany shade, making his space grey accents stand out. His laptop was open and she saw the way he was angrily staring at his screen as the person on the other end was talking. She quietly set the cup of black coffee down on his desk, but even he caught the movement of her arm and she watched as his eyes quickly snapped up and met hers. He mouthed her a quick appreciative ‘thank you’ before looking back to his screen and paying full attention to the heated conversation that he was having with whoever. Elle turned on her heels and walked over to the plush couch that was the same mahogany color as his desk. The stack of papers regarding new patients was still there from earlier before she had to run to the coffee shop. She let out a soft sigh under her breath and started to sort through them again. Koa Healthcare Clinics was always receiving new patients every day due to how in-expensive the treatment and plans are, but judging by this stack of paperwork, and the way Calum let out an aggravated sigh as he hung up the phone and the sound of the printer started, Elle knew she was going to be here until midnight - at least.

But that’s what typically happened anyways. So at this point, Elle was used to going home late and waking up early the next day to repeat the same cycle.

By the time Elle heard her phone buzz, she noticed that it was nearing 11 p.m., and she promptly set down the paperwork and picked up her phone. She noticed that Liz had texted her, informing Elle that Noah was staying the night and telling her that her leftovers were on a plate in the kitchen, and as Elle picked up her phone to respond, she heard Calum clear his throat.

She felt her insides freeze at how dominant the sound was, and she quickly typed a response.

“Sorry,” Elle mumbled, “It’s just uh, my roommate.” She instantly set her phone back down, and it was then that she registered the feeling of Calum’s stare seeping into her skin. She shifted in her seat and began to flip through the pages of clinic income-reports, quickly removing the cap of the yellow highlighter to figure out which clinic had poor income, but even she knew how shaky her hand was.

And Calum noticed it too.

He had spent the past five months trying to figure Elle out. She was unlike his past personal assistants. The majority of them were always talkative, and were trying to pry into Calum’s lifestyle too much because they were not okay with just sitting in silence during late night hours at the office, and Calum always knew that a majority of the personal assistants that he’s had always tried to get into his pants or at least felt some attraction toward him.

But Elle? Elle straight up confused him.

She rarely said more than a full sentence to him. And that sentence only pertained to the work that they were both doing. Sometimes she’d ask him a question if she noticed how stressed out or upset he was, and sometimes she’d comment on how hateful some people can be in their letters, but Calum would immediately notice how shy she’d be afterwards. He’d notice the way she’d curl back into herself as if to try and pretend that it didn’t happen or that she wasn’t even there in the room. It dawned on Calum that he truly knew nothing about Elle besides her work ethic, and for some reason, deep down inside of him: it bothered him.

Calum would usually know the basics about his personal assistants beyond what their resumes would say. He’d know their favorite color, music, food, coffee - but that one was always a must as he was always drinking it and insisted that his assistants get something for themselves - and other basics like city or dream place. But when it came to Elle, Calum only knew what kind of coffee she liked.

It also bothered Calum because of how much he had taken a liking to Elle due to her nature; almost too much of a liking which only scared yet intrigued him. He had to secretly admit that she was much more beautiful than any other woman that he had laid eyes on. Her hips were the fullest figure that nearly made Calum’s mouth water when he saw her for the first time. Her stomach was round and full but it never bothered her in the way that it would most people. She wasn’t shy about wearing pencil skirts that hugged her figure or shy of her fat rolls whenever she sat - at least not from Calum’s perspective. Her eyes were a dazzling green color that reminded Calum of rolling green hills or of healthy spring green foliage. Her eyelashes were long, so long that she hardly needed to wear mascara so Calum was always so confused as to why she did. Her cheeks were dusted with freckles that were lighter than her dark brown hair, and everytime she smiled, Calum felt his heart speed up at the sight of her dimples. Her lips were almost as puffy as Calum’s own, and he became scared of himself when he spent an entire hour daydreaming of wanting to kiss her.

And he’s been harboring his feelings for three months out of the five that Elle has been here.

It baffled Calum - to say the least. Elle was someone he wanted to know, and he wanted to figure out if she liked him as much as he liked her, because even Calum could see the way her cheeks would become red with blush whenever Calum stood too close to her or the way she would blush whenever she said more than that sentence to him.

“You can take it if you need too.” Calum said softly, watching Elle’s eyebrows furrow at his words as she continued to highlight various clinics - ones that Calum would eventually have to phone and scream at the supervisor for.

“No,” Elle dismissed quickly and flipped the page. “It wasn’t anything important.”

Calum observed her for a moment. Her hair was pulled back into a twisted bun due to the large, black claw hair clip that held it up, and her bottom lip was pulled between her teeth as she continued to do her work. But even Calum could see the blush on her cheeks. He wondered why she never complained about the late night shifts or how much paperwork he threw at her. His past assistants always did to some extent, but not Elle.

“You know,” Calum started, pushing himself out of his chair. “If you ever need to take a break or step out to take care of things with your roommate, you can.” He watched as Elle let out a soft sigh and shook her head.

“Really, it’s fine.” Elle excused, giving Calum a soft smile before looking back down at the paperwork in her lap.

“I’m serious though,” He sat beside Elle on the couch, causing her to immediately freeze up due to his closeness. “I work you way too much. It’s okay to take a break you know.”

Elle was thrown by his sudden, small-talk nature. She easily slid the cap back onto the highlighter before setting it down on her lap.

“Taking breaks doesn’t get the job done.” Elle said softly, swallowing the hard lump in her throat as she turned to look at Calum. She watched as his lips parted softly, a quick intake of breath following shortly after.

“But, constantly working may mean that the work,” Calum said, his voice faltering as he reached his hand forward to take the stapled packet off of Elle’s lap. He watched as her cheeks flared up in a soft blush while he felt his hand brush against her thigh, the material of the pencil skirt separating his skin from hers. “Is not the best work.”

The packet of clinic incomes was gently placed on the coffee table by Calum’s hand. Elle watched him, her own confusion setting into her bones as she tried to figure out what he was doing. He wasn’t usually like this.

“But, doesn’t sitting here talking also take away time to get work done? With all do respect Mr. Hood, why are you over here?”

Calum tried to stifle his laughter at the adorable, yet confused look on her face, “First of all, it’s Calum. And second, I just think you need a break. Come on,” he said and repositioned himself so that his body was facing Elle. “What is your roommate like?”

Elle shrugged at her boss and pursed her lips together as she tried to think of an answer, “She’s like any other roommate.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“She’s loud.”

“And?”

“Bold.”

“And?”

“Pays half the rent.”

“And?”

Elle could feel her frustrations starting to light her skin ablaze, “And she’s going into marine biology because she hates the corporate world. Mr. Hood, this is pointless. Why are you really over here?”

“Is it such a bad thing to want to get to know you?” Calum asked, but even after Elle had just snapped at him, Calum was still able to keep his voice calm and tender. She hadn’t upset him at all; she never does.

Elle scoffed, “No, but we both have work to do.”

“Meaning what?” Calum pushed. He could see how under her skin he was getting, and while that had not been his original intention, he was finding it extra adorable that her cheeks were getting redder due to the blush that kept appearing.

Elle sighed once more, “It’s late, and I am tired. Can you please just let me finish these assignments? Plus you never have wanted to get to know me so why start now?” The two of them stared at each other for what felt like minutes. Calum could feel himself growing enchanted by the way her green eyes never left his brown ones. Her cheeks, tinted with blush as always, looked so soft from the lighting that his office provided. He decided to take his chance, and he slowly reached out his hand to caress her mildly-warm cheek. His thumb dusted over the freckles that resided there before he spoke.

“Because I’m enchanted with you.” His words were a whisper that got lost in the air between them as Elle took them in. She felt her stomach drop, her heart speed up, and all she could do about it was focus on the way that Calum’s thumb ran gently over her bottom lip, his eyes following his own movements as she was trying to register what was happening. Enchanted with her? Impossible. Elle was always the last pick for every male she came across - maybe besides Noah - and no one had ever shown her much interest due to her body shape. She used to hate it, but after realizing that she didn’t need a man to make her happy, Elle eventually let it go. But hearing someone say that they were, at the very least, enchanted with her made her insides grow soft and her heart skip a beat. Although she was able to understand that there is more to her than looks, it was still nice to hear that someone had actually liked her. Maybe it’s a low moment for her for thinking like that, but Elle wasn’t going to dwell on it for too long.

Especially when she felt Calum’s soft lips press against hers.

His pressure was gentle but firm as he moved his lips against hers, deepening the kiss and swiping his tongue against her bottom lip. Elle could feel her body shock back to life as her brain registered who was kissing her. She instantly pulled away from him, the sound of her heartbeat drumming in her ears as she stared at him. Her lips craved his again and even though she knew it was wrong, she wanted to kiss him again, and she could even feel the tiniest bit of ache pooling in her body as she quickly thought about his lips kissing her skin.

“I’m sorry,” Calum said quietly, his hand still on her cheek. “I shouldn’t have done that.” Elle let out a sigh and took her bottom lip between her teeth as she tried to sort out her thoughts. On one hand, this was her boss and this would be completely unprofessional. But on the other, she felt something during the brief kiss that woke her up and made her want more of him and to be with him. She casted her eyes downward toward his lap, wanting to desperately crawl onto it and just kiss him, but she stopped herself when her mind instantly reminded her of her weight.

“Elle?” Her eyes snapped up again to meet Calum’s brown ones that noticeably seemed darker, and when she saw how puffy the quick kiss made his lips, she sighed once more and smiled.

To hell with her weight, and to hell with him being her boss.

Her lips crashed onto Calum’s as she quickly crawled into his lap, letting out soft giggles as she kissed him. Calum felt his heart swoon at the sound of her laughter, but quickly could feel heat rush to his tip when he felt her thick thighs around his body; the way that her soft lips were kissing him with such passion sent him into a frenzy.

God, the amount of times he’s dreamed of having her on top of him.

He became more aggressive with his kisses as she started to get playful - nipping at his bottom lip and laughing when their teeth clashed together - and Calum decided to take measures into his own hands. He slid his hands down her curvaceous and plump body in a sensual way that made Elle moan. Without a second thought and without hesitation, Calum squeezed her backside and slid his tongue into her mouth when she gasped at the feeling. They both fought each other for dominance before Calum finally had enough, pulling away and scooping Elle up into his arms.

“What happened to “we have a lot of work” hm?” He teased as he carried Elle over to his desk, his hands on her backside as she wrapped her arms around his neck to hold herself up.

“You are my work.” Elle replied with a smile.

Calum groaned and removed one of his hands to push the stack of papers off his desk. He gently sat Elle down and cupped her warm cheeks in his hands.

“That was sexy.”

“Really?” Elle asked and used her legs to bring Calum closer to her. “Because I don’t think that made any sense.” The two of them laughed as they kissed again, their lips turned upward in smiles as their teeth clashed together. Each kiss turned more intense than the last, causing heat to pool into Elle’s underwear as Calum’s erection only grew due to the sounds of her soft moans. It got worse for him when she moaned loudly after he found the sweet spot on her neck, the sound nearly causing Calum to moan himself. He started to unbutton her blouse when she stopped him.

“There’s something I have to tell you before you continue,” she said, placing her hands on Calum’s chest to essentially push him away from her. Both of them were out of breath. “I’m a virgin Calum.” Elle expected him to pull away from her and dismiss her, opting to just ignore what happened and allow her to go back to her work - or home. Instead, she smiled softly when Calum pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“If you don’t want me to-”

“Woah okay, let’s not get crazy. I never said I didn’t want you to.”

“So you want me to?”

Elle bit her lip as she looked into Calum’s lust-ridden eyes, “I wouldn’t be on your desk with wet panties if I didn’t.”

Calum scoffed and allowed a smile to form on his lips at her words. He narrowed his eyes at her and hooked his hands around the back of her kneecaps. He pulled her to him with little force and felt the material of the skirt cause resistance.

“Let me do something about that then.”

It all was a blur to Elle. She was lost in her senses as Calum sensually loved on her. They were both so desperate for one another that she had lost herself in the pleasure that came with every tender touch and every feathery kiss that made her feel like she was being worshipped as if she were a Greek goddess. Her blouse was off in record time and her bra was soon to follow, and while Elle couldn’t get enough of his kisses, Calum couldn't get enough of her. Her body was a temple to him. Her rolls, curves, stretchmarks, and body dimples made him go weak at the knees and the sight of the hickies growing on her soft skin, along with the sounds of her moans and whimpers, made blush rush to his tip like never before. Calum could feel himself aching for her, and once his fingers made quick work of the pencil skirt, he wasted no time dropping to his knees. He groaned at the sight of the wet patch where her opening was, and he gently pulled back the cotton material to reveal her dripping core to his hungry eyes. He held himself back at just completely diving in, but the urge only grew when he caught sight of the tiny mound of black hair that rested above her clit. He moaned loudly and brought two of his fingers up to her core, collecting her arousal on his index finger before bringing it back up and putting it into his mouth. Elle sighed at the sight.

“I promise I’m going to make you feel good, my beautiful girl.” Her heart fluttered at his words, her core only growing more wet when she watched him reach up and begin to unbutton his shirt. She was in a daze as she stared at the way the city lights bounced off his caramel skin in all the right ways, the tattoos on his chest immediately sending her hot body into overdrive. She watched as Calum stepped forward in between her legs, reaching forward and grabbing her hands that were previously clutching the edges of his desk. He brought them up to his chest and placed them on his own pecs, proceeding to guide her soft hands down his chest. The amount of sexual tension and want increased in the both of them, Calum savoring the way her nails scratched against his skin and Elle savoring the way her chest and abdomen felt underneath her hands. She watched as Calum dropped back to his knees, causing her hands to slide back up to his body and tangle into his hair as she waited for him to do something. He started sucking at the skin on her thighs, leaving hickies as he made his way towards her center. He continued to tease her, kissing her plump, pussy lips before hungrily attaching his mouth to her core.

Elle was in complete bliss as Calum made slow and sensual work of his tongue. Her body was humming in pleasure as she focused on his tongue, moans leaving her lips as Calum lapped at her dripping core which such measured and rhythmic licks that it made her see stars. The vibrations from his own moans only sent her spiraling into a deep pool of pleasure, and she soon felt the knot of pressure form in her stomach. She tightly clutched his hair and started to grind herself onto his tongue, a moan ripping from both hers and Calum’s throats as she did so. She felt so close to her high and Calum could’ve sworn he had a mini orgasm from the taste and sound of her alone.

“Fuck.” She moaned out and licked her dry lips, her thighs beginning to shake as the pressure only built. She let out a loud whimper as the knot came undone and her thighs shook violently against Calum’s head as her juices flowed out onto his chin. Calum moaned against her clit as he helped her ride out her first orgasm, the feeling of her thighs shaking causing pride to course through his veins as her body jerked from the pleasure that was taking over her body. Calum could feel the pre-cum dripping from his tip as he watched her body finally come to a stop and her thighs slow down to eventually stop shaking. He reluctantly pulled away from her core and stood back up, smiling softly when he saw the smile on her lips and the way her cheeks were overcome with blush for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was heavy, signaling to Calum that she was still coming down from her high.

He leaned over her and kissed her forehead, “Come back to me.” His voice was a whisper as she looked down at Elle, noticing the mini-freckles that dusted her eyelids. He pressed a kiss gently to her eyelid before doing the same to the other one; his heart melting when he saw her bright green eyes looking up at him after she opened them slowly.

“Wow,” she giggled and brought his lips to hers. “You really know how to eat.”

Calum let out a booming laugh as he kissed her again and pulled away, reaching into his bottom desktop drawer for the bottle of lube and a condom.

“Yeah well,” Calum sighed as he squirted the lube into his hand before rubbing the liquid onto her core, making sure to put extra around her hole to prepare her for him. “I have been kind of hungry and you naturally are a meal, so excuse me for feasting.” Elle rolled her eyes at him and his playful nature, the nerves of her first time completely gone as she felt so relaxed around Calum. A tiny laugh still managed to escape from her lips the more she thought about his words, but when she saw the size of Calum as he rolled the condom onto his member, she let out a breath of astonishment.

“Still want this?”

“Duh,” she said without a second thought, causing Calum to smile at her sass. Elle groaned and covered her face with her hands and she felt her body flush with embarrassment. “I mean ‘yes’.” Calum chuckled softly and leaned forward again, removing her hands from her face and biting his lip.

“Duh.” He whispered jokingly, but Elle was still able to hear how soft his voice was even when she had made a fool of herself. He kissed her nose before pulling away and using one hand to position himself at her entrance. He ran his tip up and down her folds to collect her arousal before looking up at her once more for clarification. Elle gave him a swift nod, and he gently guided himself into her. She could feel every inch of him stretch her out, causing a stifled moan - practically a squeak - to leave her throat as the pain set in. The lube had made it slightly bearable, but she could still feel the way her core was on fire due to the sudden stretch of Calum’s cock. Calum watched with concerned eyes as Elle’s eyes were tightly shut and her face was contorted in pain as he kept pushing in before pulling out again. Another squeak left her lips as he pushed back in again, but he could tell that it was much more painful due to the way she death-gripped the sides of his desk. Calum tried to help alleviate her pain by grabbing her waist and pulling her off the desk slightly, and once he bottomed out, he waited until he could move.

And once he could, there was no stopping him.

Calum was sure to keep in mind that she wasn’t used to any of this, but the way that her pussy clenched around him sent him into complete excitement. She felt so perfect wrapped around him that he just couldn’t hold back, but judging by the sound of her moans and the way her nails were dragging down his back as he fucked her at a pace that was moderately fast, Calum knew that she was enjoying this as much as he was. He couldn’t get enough of her; the feeling of her skin against him drove him wild and her tight, wet pussy clenching around him made him delirious. Moans were falling from both of their lips as the desk started to scrape against the floor and Calum could start to feel the sweat form on his body. He buried himself deep into her pussy as he chased his high, reaching down to rub Elle’s clit to make sure that she’d reach her own.

“Cal-” Her words were cut off by a loud moan, and Calum let out a deep groan at the way her walls clenched around him as she came. He still fucked her as she juices flowed around his cock, the feeling of her walls and her warm cum around him mixed with her soft skin rubbing against her already-hot skin and her moans echoing around the room caused Calum to come completely undone above her. His load shot into the condom with such force that he saw stars and lost himself in her body as he rode out his high; nothing but heavy breathing replacing his moans once all was said and done. Calum pulled his head out of Elle’s neck to look at her, but when their gazes made contact with one another, Calum could tell that there was something wrong. Elle had a far off look in her eyes as she stared at Calum, and he knew that she was not present.

“Elle?” He asked, pushing himself up onto his palms to hold himself over her. She blinked twice, and then she suddenly started shaking her head.

“What happened?” Calum asked again, now standing back up and slowly pulling out her to prevent her from getting hurt. Elle only shook her head and sat up, pushing herself off his desk and starting to search for her clothes. It’s almost like reality had caught up with her, and her mind had suddenly reminded her of who she just slept with.

“I have to go.” She whispered and she slipped on her skirt and picked up her blouse. Calum watched in complete confusion, slowly putting on his boxers as he watched Elle scramble around for her clothing. He couldn’t even comprehend her sudden switch in moods, but he knew that she was in great pain due to the ways her face would scrunch up if she stepped a certain way.

“You shouldn’t be on your feet.” Calum said as he tried to stop her from buttoning her blouse. Elle shrugged off his touch and walked over to the couch to retrieve her shoes and her personal items.

“Elle, just wait a minute.” She could tell his voice was desperate, but her mind was screaming at her to leave. She knew that she had messed things up royally with what she had just done, and her flight or fight responses were kicking in. Calum was so baffled, but his own mind was screaming at him to get her to stay. But she wasn’t listening to him. She just kept shaking her head as if she was trying to shake off what just happened.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No,” Elle said and threw on her coat. “I shouldn’t have done that. You’re my boss. I shouldn’t have slept with you.” Her hand made quick work of the silver door knob. Calum watched as she slipped out into the lobby of the secretary, his mind racing at the sudden change in her mood. Of course he knew that they shouldn’t have done that, but he still felt an attraction towards her that he didn’t feel with anyone else - regardless if she was his assistant or not. He swiftly moved to the door and stepped out into the same lobby that she was just in. But before he could say anything, he watched as the elevator doors at the end of the hall closed shut, Elle on the other side of them.

--------

The lights in Elle’s apartment were dim when she lazily swung open the door after unlocking it. It was late, nearly around one in the morning, and Elle was confused to find the kitchen light on. The tears that she had cried on the way home were well dried up on her cheeks; the Uber driver being nice enough to not ask or say anything to her as she cried. The full weight of what she had done had hit her like a semi truck, and Elle could feel the shame deep into her bones as she spent every minute from the office to her apartment thinking about how she slept with her boss. She lost her virginity to someone who could easily control every move she did, meaning that Elle was now at the mercy of Calum come Monday. She dragged her body into the kitchen to find Noah, Liz’s boyfriend, grabbing a glass of water.

“Hey you! How was work?” He asked, his voice cheery and sweet like it always was. Elle immediately thought about the night’s events, and she could feel herself grow ashamed and regretful again.

“Long,” she croaked out, sucking in a deep breath to herself from crying again. “Really long.”

----------

hopefully y’all like this!!

taglist:

@bloodmoonashton @cals-wildflower @cashtonasff5sos @fatallovesonghood @foreverlovingbands @fckngbored @generationsparkles @hoodschick @katcontreras @keithseabrook27 @morguleth @myloverboyash @saphseoul @thesubtweeter @thomashoodetta @wantcalback @wastedheartcth @wildflower-cth @who-do-you-love-5sos @wtf-no-idk @wokeupinjapanisabop

360 notes · View notes

sweetrupturedlight · 4 years

Text

This week on Sen Çal Kapımı

Serkan's inability to articulate his feelings for Eda has him literally man down, while Eda contemplates their kinda, sorta, maybe mutual feelings and her future. Other stuff happens, but come on, with this episode, Edser takes centre stage as the ship sets sail on the high seas.

Before we jump right into it, last week in this post, I bulleted the things all of us expected was coming.

Let’s take one moment to note the glorious ways in which all of these things unfolded?

Nursing back to health

Pining

Severe angst

Breaking point

Dear writers of this show, we appreciate you. We are truly blessed.

Now, on to this week. The episode picks up where we left off, with Selin giving Serkan 2 days to decide whether she drops Ferit like a hot potato on the eve of their wedding. Let’s be clear, she wants to dump a man she is supposed to marry in two days to resume a logical and clinical relationship? Is Selin even in love with Serkan? It doesn’t seem like he treated her very well – but then again, it seems their relationship had a very logical genesis – no sweeping romantic gestures, no sweet words, no compliments it would seem! etc. So objectively I’m not sure what exactly makes that prospect better than the one with Ferit – who clearly does love and care for her. But I digress.

Essentially, this is how it plays out:

Selin: “Let me know in max 2 days if you want to be with me, k.”

Serkan: ...

Eda: Simply exists.

Serkan: Stares directly at Selin as he deliberately grasps Eda’s hand and holds on for dear life.

Now, they say actions speak louder than words... so how is Selin still not clear on the fact that Serkan not rushing to end her marriage means he’s not interested???

Anyhoo, Serkan and Eda spend most of the episode circling around the same.

Did you say yes to Selin?

What is your opinion on my situation with Selin?

Would you stay?

I can’t stay because… reasons

If either one of these to love-struck puppies took a second to reflect, they would realise that they actually have the answers already. Eda in fact, does consider for a minute that Serkan might actually have feelings for her. Serkan however, is convinced Eda cannot wait to get out of his life - which makes his bold move at the end of the episode a great moment for his own growth as a character. He was operating on his feelings and taking an emotional risk, having no idea how she actually felt. Yes, he had the note she left, but up until 20 minutes earlier, he was still fighting Engin on the notion that she could genuinely have feelings for him.

Speaking on Engin, writers, I have faith that we will see Engin mercilessly tease Serkan in the next episode about his heart eyes and his newfound familiarity with the language of love. This is likely going to bring great comedic gold. Its also not lost on me that Engin can so easily see the love between Serkan and Eda, but is totally clueless about his own romantic entanglements. To be honest, I’m not invested in this romance, so whomever he ends up with - or doesn’t - is fine by me.

Listen, I’m high key bursting at the fact that Eda and Serkan both already see the other in their bed(s). Them facing “each other” with longing was one of the smaller moments of the episode, but one of my favourites. And because this show is so good at parallels, I’m putting it out there that we will get a scene of them sharing a bed without Serkan needing to turn his back to her, but also without Serkan ruining the mood once daybreak arrives. Eda is a snuggler and she loves to sleep. I’m looking forward to bedroom shenanigans. Also, can Eda (and Engin) find the pictures of them he’s clearly carrying around in his wallet at this point? Please and thank you.

SIDE NOTE: according to Laila, Serkan has a conference in London “next week” which has been reserved for two people. Since I’m going out on a limb and saying Serkan won’t be travelling with Selin, will Eda accompany him to the UK? One can only hope for a honeymoon romantic getaway business trip.

Adore the “don’t leave” parallels that the show has been dropping like golden nuggets for the past few weeks. Serkan has spent multiple episodes in a struggle with himself. If Eda wants to leave, he insists its not his style to ask her to stay. But by episodes end he is so frenzied at the thought of his life without her, he’s ready and willing to say it m u l t i p l e times. We love a glow up.

Things I loved about this episode:

The handhold 5 seconds in & Eda’s impulsive kiss on his cheek.

The super cheesy let’s-randomly-turn-on-the-radio-and-awkwardly-listen-to-the-exact-song-describing-our entire-love-story. The way I was lapping it up with shovel. Also, Başak Gümülcinelioğlu’s (aka the actress playing Piril) song Sen Çal Kapımı is beautiful. All the fanvids, all the time please oh talented vidders.

Serkan’s meltdown at the office the minute he realised she’s about to leave. Hilarious. I truly enjoy seeing him a little off kilter and a lot out of control. Just looking at how his employees have relaxed since he’s been more relaxed - due to Eda’s influence - is a great subtle storytelling mechanism as well.

Immensely enjoyed Nurse Eda - especially her traditional approach to checking temperatures. LOL. Just a comment that despite Eda believing Serkan and Selin are most likely a thing, she refuses to leave his side in deference to Selin. I totally loved seeing her stake her claim. And judging by the never-you-mind, irritated way with which Serkan basically told Selin to move along, Serkan doesn’t want people around when he’s sick - but he certainly wants Eda.

Serkan going from unable to communicate to “you’re constantly in my head, in my every thought! You’ve taken over my brain! You’ve taken over my entire life!” #FlingsSelfIntoTheSun

THE KISS. Beautiful cinematography, beautiful direction, gorgeous cast, amazing script. Loved everything about it.

Things that broke/confused me

Serkan being a complete dolt and instead of enjoying the woman he loves cuddled up beside him, he takes the time to reiterate that he doesn’t remember their conversation from the night before. SMH. Eda was about to risk it all one last time, and Serkan’s poorly timed dose of realness is the final straw.

The tears in his eyes when she left the office. He was still fighting being vulnerable, even after Eda basically gave him the roadmap with an x for how to achieve success. Thankfully, by episodes end his own desperation at potentially losing her outweighed his “logic” and self preservation. Eda is teaching Serkan that its okay to need other people and that he doesn’t have to shoulder everything alone. #MyEndlessFloodOfTears

Aydan being unable to see how very much Serkan loves Eda and her - bordering on delusional at this point - push for Serkan to marry a woman who inspires no passion, no interest, no life, no spark in him! I understood it initially. But now it’s just comical. Seyfi is clearly team #Edser. I know the Bolat’s have a history of trauma. But pushing Serkan into a loveless marriage, while hurting Ferit and potentially Eda (and Serkan himself) seems absurd to me.

Ayfer’s reaction to the contract was OOT IMO. The show has been quite light handed with drama and this was the first time I thought the hysterics was over done. I understand that it was a shock, I understand that feelings of betrayal and hurt are natural. But a moment of reflection - as well as allowing Eda to explain - would have easily highlighted what Ayfer already knows - that there is a lot more happening between Eda and Serkan than a mere contract. Furthermore, this “Serkan Bolat is the devil incarnate here to take advantage of our poor Eda” is ridiculous. Serkan is a good person - logical and sometimes aloof - but he isn’t devious. If anything, Ayfer getting to know him during their terrarium creating afternoon left her with a good impression of who he is. So unless there are missing scenes somewhere, her suddenly being anti-Serkan feels like a necessity to serve the upcoming plot, as opposed to an organic happenstance. Not my favourite development. This includes her orchestrating Eda’s scholarship in Italy. Feels out of character. But let’s see how it all plays out.

Things I know is coming:

From the fragman, Serkan names a star or something after her #squee

Selin finally getting it

Aydan not getting it

Seyfi being over the moon - along with Melo no doubt

D R A M A about parents and death and cover-ups but I’m ignoring that for now

And most importantly:

Dating

Kissing

Hugging

Giggles

#FlingsSelfIntoTheEverLovingSun #NotPrepared

#sen cal kapimi #Sen Çal Kapımı #edser #serkan bolat #eda yildiz #naz rambles #JFC I love this show #THANKS FOR MY BB FOR LIFE MIRI FOR POINTING ME AT THIS SHOW #I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER #f long post #so under the cut

52 notes · View notes

silverhandy · 3 years

Text

I saw the devil (in me) - chapter 2

contains some heavy spoilers for the devil ending

chapter 1 I ao3

If he was expecting a profound sign that V is gone, he found none. Night City was just as Takemura remembered it - crowded, flashy, and devoid of taste, both figuratively and literally. Vendors were outshouting one another, each determined to lure a potential client into an inevitable culinary disappointment. Takemura found himself navigating through the busy market that an unfortunate shortcut led him through. In hindsight, he should have ordered a cab and arrive at the address Viktor provided unscathed and in a much shorter time, but he felt the need to stretch his legs, or at least that’s what he’d been telling himself. He still had plenty of time before the memorial service started and he didn’t want to arrive either too early or too late - the first one would no doubt result in a lot of uncomfortable silence and the latter would make it seem like he didn’t care. Takemura wasn’t too keen on either of these options and that meant a long stroll through the city.

He could never grasp why V seemed to like this place so much. She spoke about it often, cursing corporations, gangs, and ever present exploitation to kingdom come, but she also seemed to fit in like a perfect piece of the puzzle, a small, but necessary cog in a living, breathing machine. She moved through it freely, her loud confidence and necessary caution interchanging in a wild dance that made the entire city spin. Where V shined, Takemura found himself losing rhythm, coming from the strict, organized world of the Arasaka military, and eventually realizing that he’d never learn the dance that made one feel at home in a place like this.

As he approached Vista del Ray, a strong smell of old frying oil and fish gave way to more subtle scents, identical all around the world in places like this, Heywood or Shinjuku, it didn’t matter. Cigarette smoke floating up and chasing the wind, too much cologne on a young, elegantly dressed men that almost bumped into him, too focused on going through his emails to look ahead, a dinner burnt, tenants desperately attempting to air the apartment by opening a window as wide as it would go, which unfortunately for them wasn’t very far. All of that mixing, shifting, evolving into what could only be called a smell of desperation and longing for an opportunity.

Takemura left the main street and turned left into an alley, feeling the intense stares of a group of young men leaning heavily on a graffiti-covered, brick wall. He knew the type, so he just gave them a warning glare, aiding them in measuring the odds. As expected, none of them approached him, having done the math and realizing that they stand no chance. He wasn’t a local, so maybe if they stumbled upon someone else like him they’d go for it, but Takemura had Arasaka written all over his features, suit and tech.

El Coyote Cojo seemed like a bar identical to many others, but the second Takemura walked through the door, he was sure he was in the right place. There was no music playing, the room filled with a murmur of hushed conversations between all the people who came to say their final goodbyes. And there were quite a lot of them. Takemura felt the corners of his lips go up in a sad smile. Of course, V had a lot of people who’d want to be here, the open suite full of them, standing in their small, respective groups, some around the tall tables, others hunched over their drinks at the bar. From where Takemura was standing, he hardly saw any familiar face, but then again, in those short few weeks he got to know V, there wasn’t much opportunity to get to know all the people she was close with. There was no time for that and more importantly, he didn’t feel like it was his place to intrude into her personal life. After all, they were just coworkers, of sorts, helping each other towards a common goal.

That is, until that stakeout on the roof. If Takemura was to pinpoint a moment where he could in full confidence call V a friend, it was those few hours they spent going over the entry points to Arasaka Industrial Park, analyzing the routes of transports going in and out, coming up with yet another idea how to get in without getting shot on the spot.

Then they got pizza and the conversation naturally shifted into something more casual, them reminiscing on their pasts and their futures. How different things were back then. V in what might’ve been her best, determined to get her life back and him doing the same.

It seemed none of them got what they wanted.

Someone passed next to him, whispering something about him getting a move on under their breath, and only then did Takemura realize that he was still standing in the doorway, staring somewhere above the heads of the mourners. Glad that he hadn't caught the attention of everyone in the room, he took a few steps forward and then, finally, he noticed Viktor, waving at him from his seat at the edge of the bar.

When Takemura approached him and took a seat next to the ripperdoc, the first thing he noticed was that Viktor looked noticeably older, dark circles under his eyes only adding to the feeling. Dressed in a classy, black suit that sure has seen better days, Viktor looked out of place, almost like...

"I was already thinkin’ you wouldn't make it." he started, mindlessly rolling the nearly empty glass in his hand. "How was your flight?"

Small talk, then.

"Good enough, thank you." then, after a moment of deliberation, Takemura added. "I usually do not fly commercial."

"Oh? What on earth stopped Arasaka’s golden boy from taking an AV?" Viktor asked, calling a bartender with a wave of his hand.

Takemura hesitated for a moment, but before the looming pressure of every passing second making the situation more awkward had a chance to set in, the bartender, a tall, heavily tattooed Latino man approached them to take his order.

"Just water, please." the bartender’s brow shot up, as if asking Takemura if he was sure, especially considering the occasion, but seeing that his client wouldn’t backtrack, he simply pulled up a glass. When it was full, two cubes of ice clinking inside, Takemura looked back at Viktor, still patiently waiting for his answer.

"My higher ups don’t exactly know that I am here." he finally said, taking a sip from his glass to wash down the ping of anxiety he felt swelling up the moment he mentioned his unauthorized trip across the ocean. Not that it mattered anymore. The sword laid at the bottom of his suitcase, carefully wrapped in silk, just waiting for him to get some closure he apparently longed for so desperately.

This time, Viktor’s brow shot up.

"No leave to mourn a friend?"

"I’m afraid they would not consider it a reason important enough to neglect my duties."

"You clearly did."

"Yes, fully aware of the consequences that await. But I could not miss it, I suppose I needed some…"

"Closure? And they wouldn’t let you have that? No wonder they call it a soul sucking job. Sorry to pry, but why don’t you just quit? Put in a two months notice or somethin'?"

"It does not work like that. Not when you have been there for as long as I have."

Viktor clearly wanted to say something, but just as he opened his mouth, everyone present started walking up to the area on the left from the bar, gathering around a small table covered in freshly lit candles, V’s photo in the middle. She was smiling, little reflections of the candle flames dancing in her eyes. V’s hair was shorter than Takemura remembered, it must’ve been taken well before they met. In a better time.

It was Viktor who stood in front of the crowd to address them. His voice sounded strained at first, unusually high, but he cleared his throat, once, twice and didn’t let his voice break even once. He spoke with confidence, yet calmly, the same reassuring voice Takemura remembered from when he ended up in his clinic alongside V, with multiple gunshot wounds and some more or less minor lacerations.

After Viktor was done, a young woman with colorful hair took his place. Clearly battling with her shaking voice, she told about the time she and V went diving in the ruins of her childhood hometown. How she still had the camera that V fished out for her and how she’s still trying to fix it, but even if she won’t be able to bring such an antique back to life, a braindance they recorded together will keep a piece of V alive forever. After that, people started taking turns, each with their little story of what V meant for them. Takemura couldn’t quite focus, each new face blending with another, a never-ending litany composed of the good deeds of a woman that no longer was among them. When it was his turn to speak, Takemura hesitated.

"I did not know V for as long as most of you, but I am honored to have been able to call her a friend."

And that was it.

***

"A lot of people came."

"I’d say a third of them were fixers from every single part of this fuckin’ city. Never took them for a sentimental type."

"Me neither."

"You know...you know what she told me in those last few weeks? “Viktor, if you dare to shed a single tear at my funeral, I swear I’ll rise up from the dead again and kick yer sorry ass”. It was one of the last things she told me, anyway. Couldn't really speak much later on." Viktor took another swing from the bottle, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of an already ruffled suit jacket.

Takemura didn’t ask how V was doing in those last moments. Didn’t need to, when he arrived at the clinic professor Kusama didn’t spare him any of the details. Quite the opposite, she was elaborate, listing all the end-stage symptoms in a cold, clinical tone. Upon hearing them, a thought crossed his mind that if it was about him, he’d beg to be copied and stored into Mikoshi. But not her. V wasn’t a coward like him and faced her death the way he’d never be able to.

"Viktor, I am..so deeply sorry." he just muttered, unable to form anything more concise. What was he supposed to say, anyway? How did his remorse and guilt compare to Viktor’s pain, who got a front row seat seeing all the ways V was withering away, day by day? Who must’ve spent hundreds of hours at her bedside, making sure that she’s comfortable in those last moments while Takemura spent those months bundled away in an office reviewing mountains of meaningless documents, too scared to even call her?

"Nah." Viktor waved his hand, almost knocking over Takemura’s glass. "She wouldn’t want us to mope like this. Imma be okay soon enough. After all, grieving is a process and all that. What about you? Been holdin’ up okay?"

"Yeah." Takemura said, but his voice came out coarse. He cleared his throat. "As much as circumstances allow."

Viktor hummed, clearly not convinced. For a second Takemura was sure the other man would push the matter, but he dropped it. Two shots of tequila seemingly materialized on the counter before them when Takemura wasn’t looking, too focused on Viktor and his own thoughts.

"How ‘bout just this one and we call it a day?" Viktor asked, taking the glass into his hand.

"I suppose it can’t do any harm." Takemura replied, raising his own glass. "To V?"

"To V."

***

Paradoxically, only when cigarette smoke filled his lungs he could finally take a deep breath. He excused himself a few minutes after their fourth round of shots. It’s not like he didn’t enjoy Viktor’s company, but the doctor was too perceptive for his own good and with each sip of alcohol chipping away his composure, Takemura felt that steel grip on his throat grow tighter and tighter.

He was alone in an alley right next to the entrance, cold winter air slowly sobering him up. Most guests have already left, only a few hindered behind, talking in the same, lowered voices he heard before. Not like he could hear any of that through the music, an old rock song he couldn't recall. Takemura slowly exhaled, a cloud of smoke dulling the air in front of him. It was time.

"Do you mind?" a woman's voice, right next to him. Takemura cursed under his breath. He was getting careless, much too distracted for his own safety. He turned his head and to his relief, he recognized her. A friend of Viktor’s, this tiny blonde woman, she ran some kind of an esoteric shop in the front. Misty was her name. They chatted a few times during the weeks Takemura would drop by the clinic to check on V.

"Not at all." he replied and moved a little to the side, making room for her to lean on the brightly painted wall. She didn’t take the invitation and remained standing, her big, brown eyes staring at him in a mix of emotions he could only describe as pity. Or maybe it was concern? He couldn't tell the difference anymore.

"You know," Misty started, her voice even softer than Viktor’s during his speech. "your pain is not lesser than his."

Takemura’s hand froze halfway from taking another drag of the cigarette. "Excuse me?"

"I’m just saying you shouldn’t cut yourself off. Viktor does that too, but not like this. The pain will not disappear if you keep running from it. It’ll just chase you up, no matter what you do. It’s better to make peace with it."

He didn’t know what to say. If he was in his right mind, he’d probably make up an excuse and walk away, but her words struck a chord in him that made him freeze, not daring to move even a little.

"I have made peace with it" he finally said, putting out the cigarette on the stone wall. He’ll find a trash can to throw it in later.

"I’m not the one you need to convince, Goro."

"I..I am sorry, but I have to go. My return flight leaves in a few hours."

Misty gave him a sad smile.

"I hope you’ll soon see that you’re exactly in a place you’re supposed to be in."

#goro takemura #goro takemura/viktor vector #viktor vector #cyberpunk v #cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 spoilers #takemura/viktor #the devil ending #serving only big sad today #writing

21 notes · View notes

tabloidtoc · 3 years

Text

National Examiner, April 19

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Tony Bennett's brave last days

Page 2: Stars with Mad Skills -- they became fast experts for plum roles -- Daniel Day-Lewis, Timothee Chalamet, Natalie Portman, Ryan Gosling, Jamie Foxx

Page 3: Adrien Brody, Margot Robbie, Bryan Cranston, Shia LaBeouf, Leonardo DiCaprio, Robert Downey Jr., Tom Cruise

Page 4: Susan Sarandon's roles and costumes

Page 7: Be Prepared for the Worst -- know these lifesaving tips before a crisis happens

Page 8: Lonely Stefanie Powers never wants to date because she still has gotten over lover William Holden's sudden death, even though it'll be 40 years ago this November -- the former star of '80s TV classic Hart to Hart, who's now 78, considers Holden the one true love of her life, even though she's been married twice to others and had a long-term relationship after the Hollywood legend's tragic death and she can't imagine being with anyone else at this stage in her life when Bill's memory is so sacred in her mind and his death still haunts her to this day, and it will only get worse as the anniversary approaches -- Holden, then 63, died at home in Santa Monica on November 12, 1981, of massive bleeding after falling and striking his head on a piece of furniture while heavily intoxicated -- it rips her apart to this day thinking how he must have suffered all alone in his apartment, bleeding to death -- the pair had a decade-long, passionate affair that lasted until his demise, which led her to carry on their mutual passion for wildlife conservation and Stefanie founded the William Holden Wildlife Foundation and is still the director -- she's tried being in other relationships, but it's been more about companionship than anything else and she doesn't have the motivation to date when the best man has already come and gone

Page 9: Vax Hacks -- avoid scammers who prey on fears of COVID-19

Page 10: His first day on the job as an honorary cop, Jeremiah met the other guys in blue and was the proud guest of honor at a special swearing-in ceremony just for him, and he's only five years old

Page 11: Important minerals for your body -- why you need zinc and potassium and how to get them

Page 12: Rude Awakening -- stars who don't mind their manners -- Alec Baldwin, Catherine Zeta-Jones, Christian Bale, Rachael Ray

Page 13: Sean Penn, Ashton Kutcher, Robert Pattinson, Russell Crowe, Cameron Diaz, Bruce Willis

Page 14: Dear Tony -- America's Top Psychic Healer Tony Leggett -- useful lessons learned from the pandemic

Page 15: Get well soon wishes go out to Chevy Chase, who just came out of the hospital after a five-week stay for heart issues -- in 2018, the star was diagnosed with alcohol cardiomyopathy, a weakening of the heart muscle caused by excessive drinking; he had dealt with his drinking back in 2016, when he entered the Hazelden Clinic to receive treatment for alcoholism

Page 16: Even though the century mark looms just around the corner, Betty White still radiates joy -- calling herself the luckiest broad on two feet, the 99-year-old Hollywood legend shares her advice for living a long and peaceful life -- she says her life is divided absolutely in half: half animals and half show business and you can't ask for better than two things you love the most

Page 18: When a California man won $145,000 on Wheel of Fortune, it turned out to be good fortune for a lot of people as he donated his entire winnings to the charity Uplift Family Services and Los Angeles Regional Food Bank, whose services support thousands of families

Page 19: These seniors are literally beating the coronavirus -- with 99 percent of them vaccinated, the 700 elderly residents of the Westminster-Canterbury on the Chesapeake Bay senior living community in Virginia Beach held a party and they had a lot to celebrate

Page 20: Cover Story -- Tony Bennett is facing his brave last days as he battles Alzheimer's disease at the age of 94 -- the singer was diagnosed in 2016, but kept the terrible illness secret until recently and has not yet experienced common Alzheimer's symptoms like episodes of terror, rage or depression but the disease has progressed -- for now, wife Susan Crow and the oldest of Tony's four kids, 67-year-old Danny from his first marriage, are caring for him while he lives in the couple's New York City apartment

Page 22: Recycle your baubles, bangles and beads -- bored with your beaded necklaces? Blase abut those old bangles? If your costume jewelry collection no longer inspires, there are many brilliant ways to give it new life or earn you some cash

Page 24: The internet's newest fitness star is 102-year-old Julia Fulkerson, who had a ball participating in her great-grandson Brody's virtual gym class

Page 25: Young Darius Brown has a mission in life: to make shelter dogs look as spiffy as he can so they'll get adopted and to do that, he provides the canines with slews of adorable bowties that he sews himself -- five years ago, when Darius was eight, his sister Dazhai taught him to sew and the passion was good for him because he'd been diagnosed with speech and fine-motor skills that the craft improved over time -- he says he saw how happy the people at the shelter were to get the bowties and how much the dogs liked them, and he decided to make more and he came up with a goal to give bowties to an animal shelter in every state -- so far, he's sewn a whopping 600 of the canine accessories himself, and helped dozens of pooches find forever homes and he especially likes to focus his attention on older animals and pets with disabilities, since they're the toughest to find homes for and the shelter directors say Darius' efforts have made a huge difference in the life of hundreds of pups

Page 26: Summer Horoscope 2021

Page 28: It's not just for the birds -- tips for watching our fine feathered friends

Page 32: Reverse Gear -- walking backward is good for you -- here's something new to try the next time you go out for a walk: do it backward -- it may sound silly, but health experts say there are mental and physical benefits to the practice, but go slowly at first to avoid injuries

* If you're always putting the needs of others before your own, you could be at risk for compassion fatigue, a condition that can physically and mentally drain you of time and energy -- compassion fatigue is a state of emotional overwhelm that is constant and persistent, once in this state of emotional exhaustion, it becomes difficult to empathize with those they help and essentially, it's empathy burnout

Page 34: Grandads Before 50! No rocking chairs for these grandpas -- take a look at these celebs who had their grandchildren before their first gray hair -- Jim Carrey, James Brolin, Donny Osmond, Mick Jagger, Pierce Brosnan, Charlie Sheen

Page 40: The Element of Earth -- earth is the second of the four elements: fire, earth, air and water

Page 42: 10 Things You Didn't Know About Drew Barrymore

Page 44: Eyes on the Stars -- Dakota Johnson and her parents Melanie Griffith and Don Johnson (picture), Kristen Stewart as Princess Diana in the film Spencer (picture), Tina Turner admits she instantly fell for husband Erwin Bach in 1986 when they first met at an airport in Germany, Bindi Irwin gave birth to daughter Grace Warrior Irwin Powell, Michael Douglas is still going strong after 5 decades as an actor and loves what he does for a living, George Segal passed away due to complications from bypass surgery, Jessica Walter died in her sleep

Page 45: Eddie Murphy is inducted into NAACP Image Awards Hall of Fame (picture), Diana Ross performs at the Segerstrom Center for the Arts in California (picture), Mario Lopez helps christen the tables at Mohegan Sun Casino in Las Vegas (picture), Ann-Margret and Julianne Hough attend the Family Film Awards where the redhead received a lifetime achievement award (picture), James Middleton who is the brother of Duchess Kate says he and fiancee Alizee Thevenet are done with city living, Justin Bieber's mom didn't like his newest tattoo saying Don't you have enough yet?, Zac Efron was spotted flying to Sydney with Aussie girlfriend Vanessa Valladares, Taraji P. Henson asked fans for prayers for her pet pooch that was suffering from post-surgery complications but he unfortunately died

Page 46: A lottery winner in Tennessee was feeling like a million bucks, until he realized he'd lost his precious ticket but he didn't give up: he retraced his steps until he found the ticket again

6 notes · View notes

tiliamericana · 3 years

Text

Muay Thai 1.05

Read From Start | Read Ahead | Home Site

When she got across the street Linden was standing over a trash can, dusting her hands of ash. The blackened handle of her bat was sticking out of the can, and she looked decidedly more cheerful than she had before.

“I uh, didn’t mean to ruin your bat,” said Nairi by way of apology, lingering next to her.

Linden laughed, stepping away and brushing the rest off of her hands on the front of her jeans. “It was reaching the end of its lifespan anyway. It served me well and went out on a high note, died a warrior’s death. Very noble.”

Nairi glanced through the front window into the restaurant, where the older woman was talking to a hostess. “So, I’m guessing that’s Edith?”

Linden nodded, looping her arm through Nairi’s and smiling at her, whole face relaxed. “Yeah. Didn’t she say hi?”

“Kind of?” said Nairi, letting Linden steer her into the restaurant. “I don’t think she uh… thinks very much of me based on a first impression.”

“Edith doesn’t think much of anyone, try not to let it bother you,” said Linden breezily.

“Linden!” snapped Nicholas from right behind them.

She hadn’t even heard him come up. Linden gave her a confused look, making her realise how badly she’d tensed. She gave Linden a small, hopefully reassuring, smile and tugged her arm free as they approached the table in the middle of the floor, willing herself to relax. It was just a restaurant, it was fine.

A hand descended towards Nairi’s shoulder and she stepped out of the way, turning to face Nicholas. “No, I don’t—don’t touch me, please, I don’t like—” she realised what she sounded like and cut herself off, shifting her weight to her other foot uneasily. “Sorry,” she muttered, taking the seat next to Edith so that he wouldn’t sit next to her.

“Perfectly alright,” said Nicholas to his credit, and he only looked startled for a moment before he sat.

Regrettably both Linden and Edith were watching her with sharp, assessing looks, even as the waitress distributed menus and water and a plate of bread. “Right,” said Edith mildly after a long, awkward pause. “How’s everything been, then?”

“Oh, you know, same old, same old,” said Linden, leaning back comfortably in her chair. “Some going out, some hanging out, bit of art, Nick still hates my job—”

“You’re still calling him Nick, then,” said Edith, taking a sip of water.

Linden snorted.

“I haven’t quite been able to make her stop,” said Nicholas with a wealth of tiredness behind the words.

“Then bite the bullet and start using a name that can’t be shortened,” said Linden, grabbing a piece of bread. “Economy of syllables, old man, I like to move quickly.”

“I’m aware,” said Nicholas, and for some reason his eyes flicked over to Nairi.

Edith snorted. “And you’re still making your regular checks with—”

“Oh my god, yes,” said Linden loudly, rolling her eyes as she chewed. “Regular sexual health checks, I pinky promise. Christ, Edie, can you turn off the job for five minutes? I’ve been doing this for how long, now?”

“Long enough to consider a career change?” suggested Nicholas.

Linden ignored him, tearing another piece out of her bread and eating it.

Edith turned her attention to Nairi instead. “Right. I hear you teach martial arts?”

“Yes,” said Nairi, fingers twitching a little where they were clasped on the table in front of her.

Edith was still looking at her, expectant, after she spoke, and Nairi gave her a nonplussed look in return. “What do you teach?” asked Edith eventually, her eyebrows halfway to her hairline by the time she spoke.

“Judo and Krav Maga, and Muay Thai, now,” said Nairi, reaching for a piece of bread to stop her fingers from moving much more.

“Right, thank you,” said Edith as the waitress returned with their drinks. She and Linden had the same drink order, Nairi realised, cheap whiskey and coke. “Do you teach at a school then? Children? Adults?”

Pry much?

“I own a dojo,” she said, swallowing a piece of bread. It was garlic-y. “Adult students. I think you need like, checks and permits to teach kids.” It hadn’t ever really occurred to her to do it, so she’d never checked. She didn’t really think it was a good idea.

“Ah, of course,” said Edith, glancing between her, Linden, and Nicholas. “Aren’t we talkative. How about you, Nicholas? Got your schedule lined up?”

“Yes, I’m all local for the next ten months at least,” said Nicholas, nodding across the table at her. Even sitting down he was at least a foot taller than Linden, hilariously large next to her slim frame. “After that I might be working with a few groups interstate, but we haven’t put anything in concrete.”

“Nick does youth outreach,” said Linden, leaning on the table with one elbow as she addressed Nairi. “Can’t remember if I mentioned that.”

Nairi nodded, looking at Nicholas. “Good work, I take it?”

“Difficult, but worthwhile,” said Nicholas, his expression softening a little as he replied. “And regularly involves travel, it’ll be nice to be working close to home for a while. Linden makes sure to keep me abreast of things, though. She mentioned you two met in a Japanese restaurant?”

“Yeah,” said Nairi, glancing at Linden from the corner of her eye. She hadn’t shifted, totally unfazed by the lie. “Good… conversation. And food.”

Nicholas nodded. “Good. Have you been teaching long?”

“No,” said Nairi, finishing her bread.

Linden slurped on her whiskey loudly and cut across them to address Edith. “So, you finally got sick of the private side of medicine?”

Edith snorted, shaking her head as she took a long drink from her glass. “I was sick of the private system long before I met you,” she said, finally pulling her attention off Nairi and onto Linden. “But yes, while I enjoyed working somewhere I could meet Alison for lunch once a week, it feels fucking good to leave the cesspit behind.”

“‘Cesspit’ is a little harsh for a general practice, isn’t it?” said Nicholas mildly.

Edith rolled her eyes, covering the motion by taking her glasses off and hooking them into the neck of her shirt. “Anything that involves working so closely with the kind of parasites who think that calling themselves ‘providers’ covers—”

“Change of subject!” said Linden loudly, shooting Nairi an amused look over the rim of her glass. “Not that I don’t love your free healthcare rants, but like, I’ve heard them like a thousand times, Nick’s heard them a thousand more, and Nairi doesn’t wanna hear them.”

“Um—” said Nairi, unsure if she should at least pretend at interest, but Nicholas shot her a small, rueful smile and shook his head very slightly.

“Anyway, aren’t you more excited about new things?” continued Linden pertly, gesturing with her glass. “New clinic starting up, hello? You loved the old one.”

“The old one was killing me,” said Edith testily, narrowing her eyes. “Which is part of why I had to shut it down, I’ll thank you to remember.”

“Then why even bother starting it up again!” said Linden, rolling her eyes back at her with a frustrated huff.

“Because it’s not mine, now, is it?” said Edith, leaning in with a wide, condescending, goggle-eyed expression. “One of my colleagues from when I was working emergency got a grant to open one and she reached out. She needed hands on deck, so yes, I took the pay cut and got out of a job I hated.”

“And back into one that was killing you,” finished Linden for her.

“No, Verity has that role, actually. I get to lounge around doing the part of the job that actually fucking matters and telling her I told her so,” said Edith, and the expression she had been fixing Linden with had turned sharp, edging on something else entirely.

“Good to see you’re still the spirit of benevolence,” said Linden, and thankfully, the food arrived, cutting them both off.

It was only for the few moments it took for the waitress to set the plates down and disappear again, however.

Nicholas ate patiently as if the back and forth happening next to him was totally normal dinner table behaviour. Maybe it was, it wasn’t like Nairi had a good measure for that, but he did shoot her a sympathetic look at one point. She did her best to tune it out.

A few minutes after that decision Linden got a pinched expression and drained her glass, climbing to her feet and gripping Nairi’s arm just above her elbow. “Hey, let me buy you another drink,” she said abruptly with a wide, fake smile. “Back in a sec, guys.”

Nairi let herself be steered away from the table and glanced back briefly, unsure if she should excuse herself or offer an apology. She saw Edith turning to address Nicholas with a wry look, caught a fragment of “—now there’s a woman with baggage—” and she drew her focus back to Linden instead.

“Sorry,” said Linden, sounding peeved, her grip loosening as they approached the bar. “Nick complains about me and Edie going off at each other like, all the time, but I never realise how bad it is until we have witnesses.”

Nairi gave her a small, sympathetic smile. “It’s okay. It’s kind of, um, perversely sweet, I guess?”

Linden giggled, bumping her shoulder against Nairi’s with a flash of a goofy grin cutting across her face for an instance. “Okay then, weirdo. What do you wanna drink?”

“Oh, just like, another ginger beer or something? Or fruit juice?” said Nairi, shrugging, as she followed Linden’s gaze across the bar.

“Sure you don’t want a slug of something in it to help you put up with us for the rest of the meal?” asked Linden slyly, glancing sidelong at her. Her usual grin was back in place, looking more like the version of her Nairi had been getting to know over the last few weeks.

Nairi shrugged again. “I don’t drink alcohol.”

“Really?” said Linden, leaning on the bar, turning her shoulders towards Nairi. “Damn, I was kind of hoping you’d come out with me later this week—there’s this bar, total dump, but I was gonna sell you on it with the cheap and awful booze.”

“Sounds like a real hidden treasure,” said Nairi, twitching another small smile.

Linden’s grin widened. “Yeah, it is. Of course, if you’re not drinking then you don’t have to find out just how awful it is.”

“That is a very compelling argument,” said Nairi, glancing away at the weight of Linden’s gaze, but she didn’t stop smiling. “Being in a bar doesn’t mean I have to drink.”

“Exactly,” said Linden, sounding pleased. “Tomorrow? After you close up for the night?”

“Yeah, sure,” said Nairi, nodding at her. “Do you want to meet me at the dojo? If it’s a hike and you want to drink, I can drive to skip the cab fare.”

“That’s very kind of you,” said Nicholas all of a sudden and Nairi had to resist the urge to jump. Did he even make noise? Had she really been that focused on Linden?

“Yeah, I told you she was nice,” said Linden, her smile becoming a little fixed as she addressed Nicholas. “Everything okay?”

“You were taking a while for two drinks, I thought I’d check in,” said Nicholas, implacable. “We’re going to a bar tomorrow night?”

“Uh, I’m going to a bar tomorrow night, I don’t know what you’re doing,” said Linden, folding an arm across her chest.

Nicholas raised an eyebrow at her. “Well, considering you told me that you only had time to catch up tomorrow night, I guess I’m going to be meeting you at a bar. Which one, exactly?”

Linden ducked her head, sucking her lip into her mouth and nodding slowly. “…I’ll text you the details. Thanks, Nick, we’re uh, all checked up on.”

“Your food’s going cold,” said Nicholas. “We’re out with Edith, Linden.”

“I know,” said Linden, nodding again and rubbing at her forehead. “Christ, Nick, I just needed a second, okay?”

Nicholas nodded again and gave Nairi a perfunctory smile before turning and heading back over to their table.

Nairi waited a second before speaking, not a hundred percent certain of the exact flavour of chastisement that had just played out. “Didn’t mean to get you in trouble,” she said slowly.

“You didn’t,” said Linden, looking up at her again and giving her a smile that more closely resembled a grimace. “It’s fine, Nick’s just got his bitchy pants on.”

“Right,” said Nairi as Linden started rifling through her purse and peering down the bar at the bartender. “Uh, kind of a weird question I guess—is Nicholas your dad?”

Linden’s head turned so quickly she nearly dropped her whole purse. “What? No! Why would you even think that?”

Nairi considered it for a moment, her tongue running just along the edge of her teeth. “…No reason.”

#series honey tree #book muay thai #serial fiction #105 #lgbt fiction

2 notes · View notes

queenmuzz · 4 years

Text

Deep Blue Sea: Chapter IV

The way to a merman’s heart....

For a link to the full story on Ao3, click here

“You gotta be more specific than 'small silvery fish with spots' when describing the type you like, Vergil. That covers dozens of groups, let alone individual types.” You sat, back to the glass, while on your laptop, pulling up picture after picture of similar looking fish. Vergil floated behind your shoulder, steadily dismissing each picture.

“Well, the issue is that you humans seem to have picked a different name for it than we have” he almost seemed faintly amused at your frustration.

“What does the name 'Cordina' mean anyway?” You closed the browser window with the latest batch of rejected pictures. Well, it wasn't herring... what if it was a fish that humans just didn't eat?

“It is just a name in Old Mer. Do your names of your food staples have to mean something?”

He had a point. A cow was just that... a cow. You grumbled, this was going nowhere... You slammed the laptop shut, and spun to face him. He had been a lot closer than you expected, nearly plastered to the glass, and he quickly darted back, as if he had been caught doing something bad. Had there been no glass or water there, you would have been able to feel his breath on the back of your neck.... the thought of that made you feel warm...

“Alright wise guy, tell me something else about the fish, like how it moves, where it lives, any peculiar oddities it doesn't share with any other fish.” He cocked his head to the side, and his eyes looked upward as he recalled the information.

“It prefers cold water, and usually stays in the far south, ” He said, which was no help. Quite a few species were like that. “But...every so often, when the seasons make a full cycle, a current of cold water juts far north, and the Cordina follow it, to forage in the new territory. At the same time, the warmth of the Ringed Sea pushes against it, forcing the fish into a long narrow column, close to the coast. And since the water is shallow, the fish are easy picking for both the birds above and the predators below. And thus, the feeding begins”

Hmmm, that sounded familiar...you wracked your brain, trying to remember where you had heard of that phenomenon. A memory of a professor, showing an image of the east coast of Southern Africa...AHA! You yanked open your laptop again, and typed in words, bringing up the image of a fish that fit the description. Flipping it around, you showed him.

“BEHOLD! The Sardine! Specifically Sardinops sagax, South African Sardine ” You watched as he cautiously approached the glass, peering at the image, scrutinizing it. You felt a sudden nervousness, as if you were waiting for your exam marks to be revealed.

And then he smiled.

It was a small smile, barely visible, but it was genuine, and beautiful. Something you wanted to see all the time.

“You're very knowledgeable about such things, I hadn't thought that you, a human, would know about something so far away, and in the ocean, to boot.”

“Well, it's what I studied in university” you watched the confused look on his face, “That's where some people go to learn things so they can specialize. Some want to learn about computers,” you tapped the laptop, “Some learn to teach children, and some, like me, want to learn and explore the ocean. Migration patterns of Sardines aren't my specialty, but we did learn about them from about a lecturer who had studied it.”

“Not your specialty?” He asked.

Well, the ocean is vast and for the most part, we don't know what's down there...so a lot of us just focus on one Ocean, one particular ecosystem, hell, sometimes one type of individual fish. I prefer to study the deep ocean, it's a whole new world out there. We know more about the moon-”

“The moon?”

“The thing in the sky, usually you see it at night, cycles between getting bigger and smaller...”

“Ah, the Tidemother....”

It had a nice ring to it, you thought... very romantic, you'd have to ask him more about terms he used. “Anyways, the cutting edge of what we don't understand is the deep ocean, since we can't just... go.. there. Not to mention, it's an entire ecosystem that's not dependent on the sun...the Moon's daytime counterpart.” you clarified.

"Tidefather” he responded, “and no doubt, once you scour the sea floor, you will find a way to exploit it, as humans are wont to do. Never satisfied with their lot in life, they take, and take, and take...” His fists balled up, and even though you were separated by thick glass, you felt the urge to scoot away. The old look of hatred you had first encountered came back with a vengeance.

“What? No!” you responded. “I mean, humanity as a whole has done a lot of damage, I'll admit to that, but we're trying to get better...bit by bit.”

“Fitting words for the daughter of a murderer...” he shot back, an you winced. He had a point. Your father's company (and soon to be yours) harvested thousands and thousands of tonnes of fish each year. But something didn't make sense...

“Not that I'm accusing you or anything, but you've been going after my father's fishing vessels, but I remember that during the Sardine Run, fishermen from the villages on the coast come out in droves to harvest the fish as well, why not attack them?”

A pregnant pause, and you were afraid you had offended him “They merely harvest to feed their families, and their fellow humans, and besides, they are merely one fish in a shoal. I do not feel ill will towards them anymore then I do against any of the other predators.” he calmly explained, before returning to his anger “However, when those ships, with nets that can envelop and harvest countless fish, can scour the oceans clean to feed their hungry maws, that's what I take issue with...”

“Point taken...but if I'm going to get you some of the fish, I'm going to have to buy it from someone who most likely participates in that sort of thing... so it's either kelp, another fish I can get locally, or... this.” He hesitated for moment, before bowing his head in defeat.

“If this is the price for keeping my sanity, so be it”

******

You sat on aquarium platform, with a plate of fresh sardines splayed out in an amateur design, as if it was a plate of hors d'oeuvres at a fancy dinner. Unfortunately, there hadn't been much choice at the market, so you were only able to procure a little over a dozen of the fresh ones (and had managed to finagle a deal with a bemused fishmonger to get a regular supply, citing that you were rehabilitating some sea mammal, it was technically true) but it would take a while to get the supply going. So, you attempted a substitute, which you stacked beside the plate. Cans, and cans, and cans of Sardines. The look the cashier gave you, and the way her eyes darted down to your stomach, to see if you were pregnant, was worth it, even if Vergil ended up hating the stuff.

“So, it doesn't look like sardines are in season, so the ones I got might not be the best condition,” you apologized as you opened one of the sardine cans, one packed in salt water. Perhaps he would like the canned ones that tasted as plain as possible, and then you could try out the more flavourful combinations.

Vergil pulled himself up onto the platform, scaring the bejeesus out of you. “Sheesh, give a gal a warning before you do something like that!”

The merman chuckled...his voice, now 'real' echoed through the room “Apologies, I take it you thought we do not surface.” (you made a mental note to attempt to make him laugh again.)

“Well, it doesn't seem very practical,” you said. “You seem to be specialized for aquatic travel, while being rather clumsy on land. The inverse is true for humans.” You realized how dry and clinical that sounded, how close you were to sounding like Doctor Griffon. Your hands covered your mouth “Oh God, that sounded so bad, I'm really... really sorry!”

Vergil chuckled again (tingles went down your spine, perhaps the tales of the merfolk's alluring voices had a kernel of truth.) “It is forgiven, you cannot help how you think. You seem to be a person who is constantly observing, eager to learn. There is nothing to be ashamed in that, as long as you realize your limitations. Something the 'Good Doctor' could take a lesson on...”

He picked up one of the sardines by his tail, and with a quick motion that surprised you, he swallowed the fish whole, bones and all. At first you thought it was because he was famished, but then one sardine turned into two, then three, then half a dozen were gulped like a baleen whale gulping an entire shoal. You were used to animals eating like that, but the image of someone so humanlike.... well, you excused yourself, and went into the kitchen to get yourself something to eat (and hopefully settle your stomach). You weren't sure what you wanted, but you wanted something quick and easy.... And as you checked your cupboards, you found it... a plastic package. Pulling out a pot and filling it with water, you began to cook.

Five minutes later, you came out with a steaming bowl of ramen in salty broth. And what you saw nearly made you laugh. Vergil had devoured the entire plate of sardines, the opened can of of sardines in salt water, and was attempting to open another can, one with sardines packed in olive oil. He wasn't having much luck with it, frowning intently as he rotated the can, attempting to find out how to open the treasure box. You stood back, allowing him to explore, until he finally figured the pull tab, and with a bit of effort, he ripped open the top. He grinned at his success, but in his attempt to grab the reward within, he gripped the can by the sharp, recently opened edge. The can was dropped onto the platform with a clatter as he hissed in pain. A stream of blood bloomed on his palm. Quickly setting your bowl down, you ran over.

“Oh no, are you alright?” and before he could protest, you grabbed his hand to inspect the damage. Vaguely, you realized this was the first time you had touched him. His hands were remarkably soft, especially considering the salt water that he spent his life in. A thin red line on his palm indicated a pretty nasty cut....Or it would have, if it was not rapidly healing in front of your eyes.

“How in the...”

“We heal fairly rapidly, especially compared to you humans, we're not sure why, but it grants us a resiliency that most creatures in the ocean lack. How you humans survive without that ability, I have no idea” He, huffed, amused as you used your ratty old shirt to wipe the blood away to reveal that, yes the cut had healed within a few moments, leaving not even a scar. “You didn't have to do that, I would have licked it off.”

“You...lick your own blood?” you asked, part appalled, part intrigued.

“The less blood we shed, the less likely predators will be attracted,” he explained, and you realized that was probably the same reason for his super-healing. Or if a shark or something did approach, the merfolk would be healed enough to fight back or flee. You were learning more and more things about these people, and just by having a conversation, and treating him as an equal. The 'Doctor' was an idiot, he could have gained so much more knowledge, but no, he was compelled to be a douchebag.

As Vergil (carefully) opened another can of sardines, this time in tomato sauce, you went back to your bowl, now reasonably cooled off, and began slurping away. You watched as he swallowed the sardine, and resisted the urge to laugh at the face he made.

“Not a fan, eh? Ah well, you can't like everything.”

“Indeed, a bit too...sweet for my taste” He looked at the other cans, his brow furrowed, before he looked at you, no, he was looking at the bowl in your lap. The tip of his tongue stuck out, as if he was attempting to mentally form a sentence.

“Would you like to try some of my ramen? It's very salty, probably right up your alley”

“My alley?”

“It means I think you'll like it”

He hesitated for a second...before he nodded, and twirling your fork, you wound a small sized portion, before handing the fork to him. You'd expected (foolishly, in hindsight) that he'd take the fork from you, but instead, he shimmied a bit towards your direction, and carefully, fed off your fork. You couldn't resist giggling as he politely slurped up the noodles. “So, how is it?”

He didn't answer, his smile did more than words ever could

#Devil may cry #Merfolk AU #Vergil #Mergil #Vergill #vergil x reader #DON'T JUDGE READER FOR EATING RAMEN WITH A FORK!

38 notes · View notes

lunaschild2016 · 4 years

Text

Belief - Part 3 (Edit)

Rating: M

Devi is Dauntless. Through blood sweat and tears she made a place for herself three years ago when she left her life in Amity behind. Not once in that three years has Eric Coulter even deigned to look her way. Not until that night. Now she has nothing but his attention. Eric/OC AU [Smut, Language, Romance]

Part 3

I decided that I'm not going to eat the food Eric pushed on me. After he left I felt furious at how presumptuous he had been and that pushed aside any pleasant feelings I had when I opened the bag to peek inside.

I'm angry at my reaction to him.

I'm still furious at Four for letting Rain go.

My head is killing me and I'm completely exhausted.

I'm just pissed and grumpy in general. I walk out of that room still clutching the bag tightly and fully intend to toss it in the trash then start back to work.

As soon as I get to the waiting room I see that most of it cleared out and that Kari is rushing towards me with wide eyes. They're darting between me, the bag, and then the cameras.

I grumble under my breath, already knowing what's coming. "What did he say to you?"

It's not Kari who answers her but Devon, the other aid on staff. "He said that if you didn't do what he said he would hold the two of us responsible. That he would be more than happy to arrange for an extended visit for one or both of us at the fence."

Kari is pale and shaking, confirming that everything Devon said is true. My fury explodes and I start muttering in a combination of English and Spanish. Mainly curse words.

I refuse to give in! I know there is no way he's going to get away with taking away the staff we need here at the clinic. I push past Devon and go to throw the bag in the trash but he stops me by pulling my arm back and scowling at me.

"Fine! If you're so dead set on seeing one of us being sent to the fence, at least I can see what the mighty Eric brought to you. Better yet, I'll just eat it myself and then I can say I was treated to something by the man that never does anything for anyone other than himself."

He goes to actually grab the bag but this makes me snap and I punch him the gut before clasping the bag, the one I was about to toss just seconds ago, close to my chest. "Culo! No one is touching this!"

He smirked through holding his stomach. "Told you." He said looking back at Kari.

"Told who what?" I snapped.

Kari shakes her head and raises her hands while still shooting glances at the camera. "Seriously though, could you just go eat, Devi? Go to the office and we can handle things while you are gone. You know you get all grouchy when you haven't eaten anyway."

I narrow my eyes but went ahead to the office. Kari isn't wrong and I can become a complete bitch when I haven't eaten. Today it is so much worse because I'm also hungover and tired as hell. I slam the office door and fling myself in the chair after tossing the bag on the desk. It doesn't take me long to give in to the temptation of the smells and the urgings of my growling stomach.

I tear into the bag then lunch eagerly.

It isn't just the sandwich, but also a bag of cheese crisps, a cake brownie, and then one of the whole dill pickles that are shipped in from Amity.

It’s all perfect food to fill me up and soak up the alcohol that I'm sure is still running through my system. For that reason, and that reason alone, I decided not to feel guilty about taking my time eating every bit of lunch. There is also paperwork and charts that needed to be completed or filed, so I took this time to get that all done since I was already in the office.

In between bites, I worked happily and with the occasional hum of pleasure.

I hate the fact that my mood started to improve as I went along. When I emerged from the office I felt loads better but wasn't about to comment on it. The first time Devon cast a knowing smirk at me I sent him a glare that shut him up very quickly and sent him hustling to get the areas that needed it cleaned up.

The rest of the day was spent catching up with normal things.

Members or dependents that needed to be seen for one thing or another, but couldn't during the week, they always come in during the weekend for appointments. That makes my morning packed with those visits on top of anyone that might come in that hasn’t been scheduled.

Things calm down eventually, but we still have to push people we didn't get to during the day to be seen tomorrow. Which means another of my days off will be spent in the clinic.

Shauna finally comes in to relieve me for the evening shift but I stay to help clean things up and go over the charts of the unlucky few that have an overnight stay with us ahead of them. She chatters the entire time.

What Tori said about Dauntless and gossip is completely true. The 'head bitch', although she herself would never be considered a bitch, in the gossip food chain is none other than my friend and co-worker. Her information is usually on point and reliable. She can usually call or predict something before it ever becomes official.

Part of that has to be because her fiancé and his brother are both working in Intel or work closely with leadership. Tonight she's going on about what had happened in the faction so far and the big story going on is about the brawl.

Turns out the former champ at Big Shots, Razor, did sort of throw the fight. He was wasted out of his mind and nowhere near the condition to handle the level of fights he was scheduled to face that night. The brawl happened when the refs, manager, and judges all made the decision that the wins were void and the fights would be scheduled for another night.

The people that won big were livid. The ones that were all for the rematches got pissed when the other group started calling them, and the champ, out for cheating in some way. Honestly, it sounded like even if he won there would have been an explosion of some kind. We’re all fighters after all, and it doesn't take much for us to want to get in on the action too.

In the middle of cleaning a room together, Shauna stops and looks over at me with a frown.

"Hey, you really should take off and get some sleep. You had a long night from what I heard and it isn't going to get better for you tomorrow."

I snapped up from making the bed and whip around to look at her. "What the hell does that mean?"

I already have dread running through me, and when she shrugs with a knowing smile, I know. I just know.

"Something I heard but I'm not supposed to talk about. I can tell you that tomorrow will probably be a long day for you."

If Tori and Shauna could be put side by side, at least the Tori from this morning and Shauna right now, their tones and smiles would be a complete imitation of the other.

"You can't say? Why?" I pop my hip out and my hand goes on it.

I might be tiny but I can be fierce if you piss me off enough and I'm right there at the edge with the only thing in my line of sight being Shauna. Friend or not it's tempting. I guess she recognizes this look enough and the smile drops.

"Look, I want to tell. I had every intention of telling you, actually. That's why he ordered me not too when he saw I was listening in to his conversation with Uri at lunch."

I don't even need to ask who gave that order. Her expression matches the one Kari had from earlier.

"Hijo de puta! Esto es un montón de mierda de caballo. Durante tres años, apenas sabe que existo, ¿pero ahora decide que merezco otra mirada?" I fume and stomp my foot in a huff.

I jerk around and finish making the bed.

"Sorry," Shauna says softly from the other side of the room. I wave that off and shake my head.

"Not your fault," I mutter with a sigh.

When the bed is made we make our way out of the room and she looks to me as I am gathering my things from the office.

"I don't think he didn't see you all those years, Devi." She calls to me softly as I was walking out of the room. "I don't know for sure, but sometimes I thought I caught him watching you. It's hard to know with Eric though."

I sigh wearily and smile back at her. "I'll see you in the morning. Thanks for the heads up."

I head home and grab something to eat after I take a much-needed bath. My roommate and friend Sadie apologized profusely for the night before.

It turns out they were there with me all along but when they tried to approach Eric when he was taking me from the pit, he turned his famous glare on them, warning them away. They hadn't dared to try and stop him after that. I would have told her off for not even trying, but it isn't worth my energy. I know all that would have done is get them on Eric's shit list.

By the time I finally crawl into bed I've gone into denial mode and coming up with anything that could be causing Eric's behavior besides what my body is telling me it might be.

This was all just an amusing distraction for him. Sadie told me what happened and how Four also tried to get me away from Eric. This is his way to get back at Four after he tried to keep me from Eric in the Pit. Eric knew it would be a button he could push on Four and had done that.

Come tomorrow he'll be bored of it and move on to some other much more willing victim.

He doesn't really have any interest in me and I refuse to let myself feel any kind of hurt about that realization.

Tomorrow I'll wake up, go to work, and then go out with my girls.

Maybe I'll even take Ash up on that offer to hang out. I could use a pick me up.

I go to sleep feeling more confident and with a smile on my face.

But there is the faint thought that if there is real interest, Eric is about to get another wound to that overinflated ego of his.

**********************************************************

The morning dawns once again, and way too soon for my liking.

Over my morning coffee, I send off a few texts to make plans for that night.

Sadie, Vera, and AJ are all willing. Even Lynn said she could be counted in for a few drinks and dancing. I also send one to Ash telling him where I would be for the night. If he wants to stop by, have a few drinks and maybe dance he's more than welcome too.

Ash is someone I see from time to time.

He works patrols and has a rotating schedule where he's out of the compound for two weeks before coming back for two.

We've never tried for anything serious between us for various reasons. Some of it’s because of our schedules and dedication to our jobs, but that isn't all of it. We are honestly more just friends with the occasional side of benefits. We don't always hook up when we hang out though.

It's just nice to have someone to cuddle or dance with, without them being a total creep. Just someone to have fun with, be myself, and not worry about either of us wanting more than we are capable of providing.

I don't expect him to be up to reply right away, neither of us expects the other to drop whatever we might be doing just because we call, but he does and he happily agrees to meet me for the night. It will be his last night to out before he goes back on rotation.

There is a pep in my step as I head out to work. I even stop by the combination deli and bakery to pick up some treats for me and the others.

I have to be careful how often I do this, but I've never been one to try and deny myself just because of what someone else thinks will be bad for me.

It's nice to be able to get things like muffins, cake or other baked goods again now that I don't have to worry about them being dosed with peace serum. It took a while for me to be able to eat anything even remotely close to bread once I got to Dauntless. They don't talk about what happens to the people that have been living on that mierda.

On the day of my choosing ceremony, my family made a big breakfast for me. I didn't give it a thought when I was eating my fill of sweetbreads right along with the fruit they had that morning. They were both normal things for our meals, and we had sweetbreads at least a few times a week. Mi Abuela loved to bake and garden. Those had been her pleasures, so there was always something for us to eat from that.

I've always wondered if they knew what would happen to me that first week of being in Dauntless.

I wondered if my family had known, as I loaded up on the bread, that once I left there I would suffer. Did they know I would go through something called withdrawal? Did they think it was only right that I go through hell for betraying them and leaving?

I don't want to believe that they would do that to someone they loved, but I have my doubts about their love because of that suffering. Someone had to know that living for so long on a drug-induced set of false feelings would throw me off so badly. Someone had to know that I would struggle with trying to deal with all of the feelings that I had never been allowed to deal with on my own before.

Initiation would have been hell on anyone but a girl with my physicality coming from Amity made it a certainty. Adding that I had the emotional stability of a pubescent teen and it just amplified that.

It took me almost an entire year before I would even touch something with bread in it at all.

Have I mentioned how much I love bread and sweets?

That by itself was enough to make me completely moody, especially when all around me the Dauntless cake was taunting me. I may have punched someone once when they seemed to take pleasure in teasing me while they slowly ate their cake across from me at dinner once.

Uriah Pedrad still won't eat cake if I'm around.

Keri and Devon fall on the donuts and muffins once I make it into the office. This is where we gather every morning to be debriefed by the night staff on everything that happened during the night and the status of anyone staying.

It's another busy day for me. All the appointments or people that got turned away and told to come back yesterday are expected today. Some of the ones leftover from the mess the brawl created came back during the night, so thankfully most of that mess was taken care of by the night crew. There are a few walk-ins with cuts or broken bones but none of the crap that I was seeing yesterday morning.

Overall, while work does keep me busy, I'm still holding onto the good mood I woke up in. It's looking like I'm going to get out earlier than I expected, and since this is supposed to be my day off anyway, it just improves my mood even more.

So much so that I almost forget about yesterday completely.

I mean, I've only daydreamed about that kiss and Eric a few times today, so I think I'm doing pretty good.

The last appointment of my day is a young dependent. It's just a simple one, being seen for a persistent cough and congestion that turned out to be an ear infection.

We don’t have a doctor on staff from Erudite and while I am qualified for many things, there are some of them that are just beyond me.

Instead of sending a doctor over, we have a computer station that has a scanner along with other various places where we can put in any blood draws or other things of that nature. That allows us to send and receive information to staff over at the Erudite hospital. It’s fairly old and can take an absurdly long time, so it becomes fairly useless in true emergencies. For simple cases like this, it works fairly well. I send over a few cultures, a blood draw and a scan of her chest for the doctor to look at and diagnose.

With a shot of antibiotics and a script for a syrup to help with a cough, I send the little girl and her mom on their way. As I'm doing a clean up of the room they were in Kari comes rushing in with a harried look in her eyes.

"He's here." She says simply and with no need to elaborate who ‘he’ is.

I huff and close my eyes tightly, my good mood going right out of the window. "Any idea what he wants?"

I open my eyes and roll them when I see her horrified expression. Like it was horrifying to her that I even suggested she try and ask him what he wanted. So I shove past her and make my way out into the waiting room, but Eric isn't there.

Devon points the office and then the nerves hit. I was hoping he would stay out in the open here in the waiting room where I wouldn't have to be alone with him. Which is probably exactly why he went into that office.

I groan quietly at this realization before determination sets in and I grit my teeth and give myself a short internal pep talk. I push my shoulders back and walk into the office with as much of a calm and uncaring demeanor as I'm capable of pulling off right now.

Eric is sitting behind the desk and has a file in his hands with a few others laid out in front of him and with his feet propped up on the desk. He looks way too at home in the place I consider my domain, for my liking. That calm demeanor snapped straight out of the window. I slam the door and put a hand on my hip as I glare at him.

"Did something happen to the staples? One pop out of place or something?"

He looks up from the file in his hand and smirks. "Nope. They're still intact." He tilts his head and that infuriating smirk gets wider. "Sorry if that ruins your hope for getting my shirt off again. Although, if you ask nicely enough…."

I sputter and glare at the gall of the man. "Hate to burst your ego but that was the furthest thing from my mind."

Mentira! As soon as he said it, that’s all I wanted.

I walk closer and shove the feet he has propped up on the desk off then go to snatch the file in his hand away. He jerks it back and makes a tutting noise.

"Leaders have full and complete access to any and all data or files." The smirk is gone though his words are full of it.

"What do you want, Eric?" I snap at him.

"I looked at your personnel file," He states simply, putting the file down he was reading and I get a good look at it for the first time.

This one isn't my personnel file but the one I have full of my proposals and requests for the clinic from over the last few years. I frown at that and his statement trying to connect the two and my tangle of thoughts.

"Okay?"

"You haven't taken part of the yearly physical training and assessments yet. In fact, you didn't for last year either."

I sigh tiredly and rub the back of my neck. "Eric, I don't know if you’ve noticed or if you even care, but the clinic is running on a tight budget and limited staff. Most of the people qualified to do the things beyond basic aid are Erudite, and they are only here for eight hours of the day. Those hours are early ones that most of the people in Dauntless aren't even awake for half the time, not to mention they aren’t here on weekends. Patrol medics have to come from somewhere and the weekends that takes them from the small staff we have here. I guess it isn't surprising you don't know this considering any and all requests I’ve made are either rejected out of hand or just ignored. Perdóname if I don't make it into maldito training when I'm too busy stitching up or setting bones for everyone else who is able to."

Eric starts tapping his fingers on the table, his jaw clenched and looking around. He stands and grabs the file he was looking at before he turns his cold eyes on me. "Follow me."

I've probably pushed my luck just once too often with him while I was unloading my anger and frustration. In fact, I'm sure of it as he stomps to the door and rips it open, then stalks out. I can hear him barking something to Devon and Kari but not what. I scramble to grab my bag, just in case I need it, and follow after him. Both of the staff are looking at me with worried eyes but they make no moves to say anything or help.

They couldn't help even if they tried to be honest.

I follow after Eric but he stops at some point and waits for me to catch up to him. "You might be short on staff but I can't excuse missing the training. I especially can't excuse missing the assessment. Normally, you would need to do it with one of the qualified staff, and during their hours, but that isn't going to work, obviously." He pauses in speaking even as we are walking and glances over at me. "So, I’m going to take that on myself. We'll be starting with weapons at the firing range today. You won't need to change into workout clothes for now, but I will expect you to have some on you for when we next train."

My fists are clenched at my side as I walk beside him. There is a tiny part of me that's thrilled with this development while the majority of me is pissed at being dictated to like this.

I bite my lip and decide to pick my battles.

Eric’s right and the reason for the lapse in training doesn't really matter. Here in Dauntless, it is expected and the standard unspoken rule is you always make time for training.

We don't go right to the gun range.

First, we stop by his office where he deposits the file on top of his desk. I immediately know I'm never going to see it again and am thankful I have backups of all the information on my laptop.

His desk seems to be one big pile of paperwork. Organized piles, but still.

The desk has a towering stack of files in a tray with a label indicating they still need to be looked over and a matching stack of ones that have the label indicating they are complete. It would take counting each one to know which one has more as they seem to be at the same level.

I don't know what he intends to do with my file but I have a feeling it's just going to get shoved in with one of those enormous stacks and get lost.

I do feel a tinge of pity that he seems to be swamped with work.

I guess I never really wondered what it's like for any of the leaders. Tori never complains, and that isn't something Four is likely to do either. I just always looked at the power they hold along with the perks that come with holding that position, and never considered what needed to be done behind the scenes. Logically I know there is work, but I never considered they would be as buried under as it appears he is.

"Is that always like that?" I ask as I wave towards his desk. Eric unlocks a cabinet at the back of the room and starts pulling out things.

He glances at me and then to where I'm indicating and shrugs. There is a tiredness that etched itself onto his face for just a second before it's gone just as quickly to be replaced by a slight scowl. "It's usually worse."

I frown as my eyes wander over the file names, reading them quickly and seeing that some of the labels are things I would think would be taken care of someone else. "So why don't you have an assistant or something to help?"

"You aren't the only one that has to deal with budget cuts and short staff, Devi. We have the same issues up here. Everyone thinks it will be such a fucking cakewalk to work in leadership or as one of the assistants. Then they get a face full of reality and we find out they aren't cut out for it and have to find someone else or do without."

I should feel ashamed of my words to him earlier but leadership could at least explain that to their departments. Especially ones that are so vital to the faction.

"I didn't know," I start out saying then narrow my eyes at him when he snorts and is probably about to make some smart ass comment. "That could be solved by someone just telling us all this." I wave again but this time between the desk and him. Making it clear I'm meaning him specifically.

It turns out he had been pulling out his handguns. Now he started to slip those into holsters he had on his hip and thigh after checking them. "Would it have made any difference if we had? Knowing that we have little in the way of budget to work with and even less staff?"

I put my hand on my hip and frown while looking down slightly. "Of course. That would have been much better than thinking I've been ignored for the last three years."

I glance back up briefly but quickly look away and blush when I realize how hurt my tone sounded and I caught the flicker of something in his eyes as he caught it too. Eric came closer until he is standing right in front of me. He reaches out a hand and uses his fingers to gently grip my chin and raise my head until I'm looking him in the eyes once again.

"Devi, you were never ignored." He says softly while he runs his thumb over my lips lightly then drops his hand along the soft expression in his eyes and sighs. "Circumstances have had my hands tied until recently. We're working to make up for everything the previous leaders did to destroy the faction."

I nod when his eyebrow raises, seeming to ask if I understand, but can't find the words to reply. I don't trust my voice to speak because of the fluttering in my stomach. It seems good enough for him and he moves to the door, holding it open for me to pass through first before closing it behind him. He sets a brisk pace but not one I'm unable to keep up with. Soon we are entering into the gun range.

The people in the gun range at the moment look at us curiously as we pass. A few of the guys I know from their frequent visits to the clinic, and they start to wave or smile at me. They stop immediately and turn away quickly after a glare from Eric.

He sets us up about as far away from everyone else as he can get while still being in the same room.

It's clear any and all focus is going to be put on me and he isn’t going to tolerate any kind of distractions or interference. I found out it’s entirely possible to be in a large room full of other people and activity and it still feels like I am completely alone with Eric.

This just ramped up my nerves that were already frazzled.

It's also obvious that my lack of training has clearly affected my aim. Something he's all too quick to point out, rather gleefully, and then insisted on physically correcting me while informing that my performance is so abysmal that he might as well start me out like he would a beginner.

That's about how the next two hours progress, with him acting as if I've never even held a gun. He has been pressed against me, or at least uncomfortably close, almost the entire time. Shoving me this way or that. Pressing his legs between mine to correct my stance or wrapping his entire top half around mine while he stands behind me.

He also won’t shut up!

He keeps assaulting me with question after question. When I said something about it, snapping out that I didn’t realize he had so many words in his vocabulary, he just grinned wickedly and said he’s just testing my ability to maintain my skill through distractions and then continued on.

He spent the next hour or so grilling me about anything from my life in Amity before I transferred all the way up to my life now, my friends and things I do with them.

"You said you were considered the perfect Amity. Why did you transfer if you were happy there?"

"You never wondered how you were able to kill chickens? I mean come on that had to be a red flag right there."

"How often did you find a wild horse beyond the fence?"

"Did you really spend that long out of the fence on those trips?"

"How did you get into healing if you worked with animals?"

"How can working with animals and their recovery be compared to a person?"

"Explain all this massage and herb therapy crap. I don't get why it is such a big deal or help."

“Are you actually friends with your roommate, because I remember her being in our initiation and never saw her talking to you?”

“How did Lynn end up in your circle of friends?”

“So, you aren’t all that close to Number Boy?”

“You dance? Where do you go?”

On and on the interrogation went, and all while he's physically distracting me as well.

Between the verbal and physical invasions going on, I quickly become exhausted. By the end of the two hours, I reach the end of my patience.

It's when the questions start to get slightly more personal and trying to pry into past relationships, that it snaps completely. I start responding in sarcasm and Spanish.

Eric just looks amused while his hands start to do things along my back and hips and I realize that I've only been speaking in Spanish for the last thirty minutes of that time and Eric understood every word, even if he only responded back in English.

"Alright, we're done here for the night." He says, stepping back abruptly after having just been brushing his fingers down my neck while his breath tickled my ear. "Let's go to the mess hall and get dinner."

I watch as he holsters the gun and let out a frustrated puff of air while calling him every kind of bastard I can in my mind. I can't decide if I want to turn around and slap him or push him against the wall and relieve all this frustration he’s built up in me.

The first one I dismiss, because even I am not loca enough to slap a leader, and definitely not this one.

There is still the second option.

I snort quietly and shake my head, dismissing that. I’ll just need to find another way to relieve this frustration because there is no way it’s happening with Eric.

My plans for the night flash in my mind suddenly. Hair from my ponytail came loose at some point during Eric’s pawing at me and has fallen in my face. I shove some of the hair back from my face and start to grin then look at Eric as he finally faces towards me after cleaning up our area.

I flash a smug smile at him as I shake my head then grab my bag up. “Thanks, but no thanks. I have plans for the night already.”

“Plans?” Up until my statement, he had been wearing his own smug smirk after stepping back and seeing how flushed I was. That smirk drops as soon as I shoot him down. His eyes move over me cooly but then he just gives me a slight shrug of his shoulders. “Cancel them then.”

His tone is so fucking flippant and as if he’s presuming this would be what is obviously going to happen.

I let out a scoffed laugh. “No. I don’t think so. I’m meeting up with my girls for drinks and dancing before Lynn goes back out on patrol rotation.”

“Your girls, huh?” He drawls slowly while narrowing his eyes and looking me over slowly before his eyes meet mine.

We spend the next few seconds in a stare-off and I think he might be waiting for me to back down and just go along with him.

Clearly, he has learned nothing about me.

Then he surprises me by shrugging casually and gives a small nod of acceptance. “Okay. Just remember what I said though and be prepared for me at any time, little one.”

I ignore the flush of warmth at his nickname for me and narrow my eyes.

He’s up to something. I know it. But whatever is going behind those blue eyes of his is a mystery. I just know there is an intensity to him that makes me want to lick my lips and return the action of looking him up and down like he just did me. It’s so strong that it makes me whip around instead and sashay my ass out of there as fast as possible.

“Will do, Sir!” I toss over my shoulder to him with a grin.

His chuckle after seemed to follow me for the entire walk to my apartment. It sounded like more than just a laugh or simple amusement.

It was dark, rich, and raspy. Like it held a promise of something to come.

Something that shouldn’t have my nipples going hard or my knees going weak. But it did and I think I knew then that I am well and truly fucked.

*****************************************************

“Damn! You are going all out tonight.” Lynn says as she looks me over and walks further into my bathroom where I’m still getting ready.

I’m already dressed, other than my chosen heels for the night, but I’m putting the final touches on my make up. I smile at her through the mirror and lean over the bathroom sink and counter to get closer to the mirror so I can swipe the mascara on in a way that it won’t clump the eyelashes together.

“Damn straight,” I finally reply to her then quickly finish with the other eye.

I put my makeup down and step back to take a look at myself in the floor-length mirror on the other wall, turning this way and that to get a better look.

I wouldn’t say that I don’t dress up when we go out, but I don’t usually go all out like I am tonight. Most of the time I’m wearing something a bit more relaxed. Like the other night, my dress was just a simple black dress; long-sleeved and with a slightly rounded neckline that went to just above my knees and had a tiny slit on the right side. It was just the right amount of casual and sexy. Something I threw on right after work and used my new shoes to add spice and color to the mix. I didn’t even do anything with my makeup or hair really other than fixing my ponytail and adding a bit of lip gloss.

Something about tonight seemed to call for a bit more….well, everything. Something a bit more...Dauntless...and daring.

I left my hair down tonight and let it fall into my natural waves, but added a little product to smooth the hair and make it slightly shiny. My lipstick is a wicked red color and I lined my eyes so that the chocolate brown looks a bit more sultry. I have the same shade of red on my finger and toenails that I used for my lipstick.

My shorts are a little shorter and my cleavage a little more revealed than I would normally display.

The outfit is almost all black in color. The top is a deep v-neck silk wrap top that I have to tape down to make sure the sides stay in place and I don’t end up flashing everyone since I’m not wearing a bra underneath. I have that tucked into the black silk shorts that provide me full coverage of the assets...my ass...but mold to it nicely.

To add some color, and to break up the black and highlight my waist, I added a wide belt made of silver metal that is thick enough to draw attention to the waist and what I consider my best feature, my butt.

The real feature of the outfit is my shoes.

As always they are high heels, four inches, but the style is a roman sandal with leather straps that go all the way up to the knees. I sit on the toilet to slip those on and secure all the little black leather straps.

Lynn has her arms crossed over her chest and is shaking her head at me with a knowing grin.

She knows this look. This is my going out to get mine, look. When I’m feeling sassy and sexy and want to let loose.

“Well, let's go then. Did you eat something?” She frowns at me worriedly while I pop my lipstick into my clutch purse that already has my keys, phone, and some protection (in case I get lucky) in it.

“Yes, mami. I had a grilled cheese when I got home.”

Lynn rolls her eyes but chuckles and shrugs. “Well, that’s better than nothing. We can just order some bar food when we get there.”

I sigh but admit that’s a good idea. I don’t do well with drinks if I haven’t had anything too substantial to eat.

Lynn has a reputation for being hard, and she definitely can be, but we both have the habit of being the ‘mothers’ for our group of friends. We’re the ones that usually make sure everyone doesn’t completely overdo it and that they make it home at the end of the night.

So, I would have normally heard something from her about what happened to me, but I guess since she knows I’m now dealing with Eric, she also figures I have enough torture ahead of me.

If she only knew.

Sadie was waiting for the two of us in our living room while our other two friends that said they could make it, Vera and AJ, already headed over to the club to get us a place.

Vera is currently dating the guy that manages the bar we are going to tonight and managed to sweet-talk him into setting aside one of the balcony areas that overlook the dance floor. Those spaces are usually reserved for officers and leaders in the extremely popular club, so it was a surprise when she messaged us earlier saying she managed to get us a spot.

This will be a treat, because normally we grab whatever spots are available on the lower level and pray there is enough seating. There never is.

We head out and talk as we go, catching up on what’s going on with each other along the way. Once we reach the club we spot the section Vera told us we would be at and can just faintly make her out waving at us from there.

I stick close to Lynn who seems to have this ability to make the crowds just kind of move for her with little to no effort, and in no time we’re across the already full dance floor and at the stairs. We quickly pass the guy that serves as a guard that makes sure no one gets up there that isn’t supposed to.

The upper level is amazing and has a very polished look to it while the lower levels seem to go with a raw kind of approach to decorations. There are already other groups gathered in their own little lounges that we pass on the way to where our group is set up at the far end.

I slide onto the seat of one of the sleek black couches and take in our set up. There is a huge lighted table in the shape of a cube that alternates colors sitting in the center of the L shaped sectional and a collection of four armchairs in dark red of the same material of the couch. On the table itself there are a few buckets filled with ice. Two of them have a bottle of a wine of some kind and the other two have juice. I reach forward and deposit my clutch onto the table and reach for a bottle, examining it and raising an eyebrow when I see that it’s a sparkling white wine from Amity. One that is very popular and is usually reserved for trade with any one of the factions that want it. Erudite is very fond of it and is known to be the one to buy it up after each production year.

I raise my eyebrow at the bottle while looking over at my friend in question. Vera just giggles then shrugs. The pulsing music of the club can still clearly be heard but it’s not so overwhelming up here that we can’t hear each other talking.

“Blaine said they’re for us, so I guess he just wants to make sure we have a good time. It’s one of your favorites right? That wine from Amity?”

I shrug with a smile and start to crack it open but Lynn glares at me and slaps my hand away. “Food for all of us first before we start downing this.” She grabs it from me and shoves it back into the ice bucket.

“Oh good idea!” Sadie coos and then eyes the bar, more specifically the bartender, on this level. “I’ll just go order us some snacks.” She is already up and waggling her fingers at us before I can even tell her what I want.

“Ash is here.” AJ says as she comes up from dancing on the floor with some guy she’s decided is going to be her date for the night. “I told him we’re up here.”

“Thanks.” I reply with a smile and look around.

The club is amazing and has always been my favorite here. That might be because it was the first club I ever went to in Dauntless.

I always loved dancing back in Amity.

They would have days filled with music out on the open fields. Nights where we all just got together and danced with the stars and moon shining down on us.

I would drink and dance my ass off. Then I would go off somewhere with Vicente. We would spend hours more just touching each other or later on as I got older, making love. It’s hard to not be bitter after I realized that all of that was drug-induced.

At the dances where all the young but of age were encouraged to attend, they served drinks laced with shit that I can’t even stomach the name of now. It wasn’t bad enough to be on peace serum all the time but they also gave us other things. I didn’t know that back then. It wasn’t until I got to Dauntless that I was informed about what I was exposed to and what it did to me.

It tainted all of those memories for me. Even the relationship with the man I had hoped to marry. It made me question how much of it was real and how much was the drugs.

After getting through initiation and becoming a member, I resisted going out. Still bitter and upset about so much of my previous life. Doing anything that was remotely similar to my old life was out of the question. I worked and went back to the apartment I shared with Sadie, refusing attempts to be friends or hang out with anyone.

I knew it was fear holding me back. Facing your fears in sims doesn’t make them go away, it just makes you super aware of them.

So I knew that I was afraid to get close to anyone but I was also afraid that I wasn’t able to get close to anyone or love them. Afraid that everything from my life in Amity, who I was, had been fake. Tori brought me out of that and said I wouldn’t know if I didn’t try. Was I Dauntless enough to do that? Of course, I couldn’t back down from her challenge.

So, one night I got dressed up and found myself standing in Club Onyx for the first time.

It’s a literal cave. Stalagmites and stalactites can be found everywhere. The ceiling is high enough up that at places it disappears into the dark. The walls are mostly the natural stone of the cave, but in other places it’s smoothed out to make way for different decorations, furniture or built-in rooms, like the restrooms.

I’m told there are little nooks and crannies all over the place that people like to go and explore. Tori once said there is some type of water in one of them, a grotto she called it. I haven’t explored the big cavern yet so I haven’t discovered if that’s true or not for myself.

The club is a cross between the primal aspect that defines Dauntless and the tech and polished aesthetics from Erudite. That means it has lights, sounds systems, and other little luxuries that make it easier to let go and enjoy.

I enjoyed myself so much that first time. I found my rhythm again and danced long into the morning hours with Tori. Since then, I love to come back here when I can.

Ash finds us just as Sadie comes back with a smirk and a drink. She informs us the food will be here shortly. I pour myself out a glass but at a look from Lynn, I also add some of the juice that was in another bucket being chilled.

I sip my drink and laugh along with the others as we talk over the music. The food is delivered by the bartender, who then joins Sadie. Now we all have partners to dance with. Even Lynn called in one of her girlfriends to be with her tonight.

I can never go right into dancing. I’m not sure why this is, but I always have to have at least a drink before I feel relaxed enough to let go. Tonight it seems to take more for me to be loose enough, and I draw it out by eating and talking with Ash or the others when they make their way back to us.

If he’s picking up on how I’m even more nervous than usual he doesn’t say. We just talk and catch up, comfortable enough with that and each other, that it isn’t awkward at all. Even when he brings up Eric.

“So I hear Eric is breathing down your neck.” Ash says with concern.

I almost choke on the mouthful of wine I had but managed to gulp it down and breathe again.

“Where did you hear that?”

“I had to go to the administration offices to get some paperwork settled for a new patrolman being assigned to my unit and heard some chatter about Eric being after you or something like that.”

Oh, he’s after me alright.

I wave my hand casually and dismiss that thought as well as Ash’s worry.

“I missed the last few assessments and he’s having to handle it. No big deal.” I down the last bit of my drink and plop the glass on the table then reach for his hand. “Let’s dance,” I say even as I start to stand, wobbling only a little, and tug him up with me.

He doesn’t protest and soon we’ve made our way to the dance floor. I enjoy myself, I do, but something about Ash’s hands feel off. I can’t help this uneasy feeling that surges up every once in a while.

Normally, I can lose myself in the music and have no qualms about Ash being close or touching me. Ash even notices and asks me if I’m feeling okay. I just tell him I’m fine but that I need another drink. So we go back up to the lounge and he gets a few drinks from the bar for us. Once I have that downed, I drag him back onto the dance floor.

It seems to work and I dance until my feet can’t stand it anymore. He almost has to carry me back up to the balcony and the couch, where I plop down laughing and into his waiting arms.

I’m drunk and headed to well past drunk, but I really don’t care at this point.

“Wanna get out of here?” Ash asks as he leans in close to my ear brushing some of the hair away from it with his fingertips.

I giggle a little and nod. “Yeah, I just wanna go freshen up first.”

“Okay.” Ash agrees and helps to push me up from my seat, chuckling a little as I groan when my feet throb a little.

He makes a comment about the dangers of wearing such high heels that I ignore after a playful glare over my shoulder at him.

“Be right back,” I say and then weave my way to the bathroom.

The one on the balcony is occupied with a few girls waiting outside for it. I decide to not wait and go down to one of the ones on the main floor that I found a while back that is usually empty. It has two stalls with a well-lit vanity area that I would think would make this a popular bathroom, but it’s well away from the dance area so maybe that’s why it isn’t packed like the others always are.

I take care of nature’s call first. Grateful that the toilets in places like this are nothing like the ones in the dorm or training room from when I first came to Dauntless. You need a shot just to prevent diseases from being near those.

I finish quickly and wash my hands then can’t resist using the vanity to check my lipstick and makeup. I’m so absorbed in finding my lipstick and reapplying it that I don’t notice the door opening, but I definitely hear it closing. And I definitely hear the lock being flipped.

The first, brief, thought I have is that someone’s decided to use this as a place to be intimate so for a few seconds I don’t get worried. It isn’t until the feeling I’ve had, but denied, all night surges through me with a vengeance. The one that felt like I was being watched. The one that had the hair on the back of my neck standing at attention and my senses buzzing. Only this is much worse and it finally gets my attention enough to turn to look out of the little vanity area that is in its own little nook.

Eric is standing there, leaning against one side of the archway, and the expression on his face makes my legs tremble slightly while I swallow heavily.

Eric Coulter isn’t an expressionless, emotionless robot but at times it certainly seems that way. But there are times when that mask breaks. I’ve always thought that the reputation he earned, even as far back as our initiation, didn’t come from the cold, calculating and the ruthless man he can be, but from these moments when whatever he is feeling is unrestrained and intense, overwhelming even.

The expression he is wearing now isn’t far off from one that I’ve seen before when he lost it on someone but I haven’t seen that since our initiation. His forehead is screwed up in wrinkles while his jaw is gritted and his lips turned into a scowl. He’s breathing hard, chest heaving, and his vein in his neck is pulsing as his fists clench and his muscles bunch up. That too is something I’ve seen before when he unleashed his body and showed just how lethal it can be.

I’ve seen all this before. I’ve just never been the one it’s all directed at.

“Just drinks with the girls, right?” He advances on me, all sinuous menace and the words are a hiss.

Despite the feeling that I just want to melt into the floor, I don’t let myself. He’s a beast. I’ve tamed larger and more powerful than him. I raise my chin and stand my ground.

“What business it of yours what I do with my free time? Yes, I’m having drinks with my girls and having fun. I never said there wouldn’t be others involved.”

Standing my ground means that I also didn’t move and he was on me in seconds. My butt hits the counter of the vanity as he brackets me in with his hands gripping it on the sides of my hips. He leans in so close that I can smell the aftershave he must have used before he got dressed for the night.

Dios ayúdame is the man dressed.

He’s wearing a black skin-tight, short-sleeved shirt with a v neck that clings to his skin so much that I can make out the muscles of his abdomen underneath it. It tapers in so that his waist is clearly defined by the belt showing since it’s tucked into black jeans that might as well be painted on him. They look to be barely containing the things he calls legs.

All of that is definitely drool-worthy but it’s not what has my mouth salivating and going dry at the same time. It’s his arms and those fucking veins that are pulsing. It’s the bunching of the muscles of his forearms up into his biceps. It’s the sound of his hands rubbing against the stone of the countertops as he grips them tighter.

It all made me want to lick my way up his arm, starting from his tattoos, until I reach his neck and then down the other until I reach….well….

If at all possible, his breathing goes even more ragged and his chest rumbles in a growl. “I’m not happy, at all, little Devi. You’re fucking drunk again.” He hisses and moves even closer making me gasp and flush. “And you let him touch you.

His powerful thigh shoves its way between mine, opening my legs. Much like he did at the firing range but this time he’s facing me and it brushes up against my bare thighs, pressing into the silk shorts I’m wearing.

I let out a moan and reach out to grab his shirt, pulling him even closer. He finally lets go of the counter and uses one of his large, rough hands to grip the back of my neck after moving until the curtain of my hair.

“What am I going to do with you, Devi?” He growls out the question.

And it is a question.

Said in a tone that lets me know he’s at a loss for what to do, maybe even at the end of whatever control he is trying to keep right now. That and the drinks make me much braver than I would ever normally feel. It has me feeling smug even, knowing that I’m the one doing this to him. That I have the unshakable mountain of arrogance and confidence feeling unsettled, unsure.

“Take me home with you, Eric,” I demand forcefully.

As the words come out I feel a brief moment of astonishment. But yes. This is what I want. I wanted it all day when I’ve relived the kiss. I wanted it last night when I touched myself thinking of him and what could have happened in that exam room. I wanted him even more as he touched and teased me at the gun range.

Dammit, I want him and I will get what I want!

The grip on the back of my neck tightens even more and the rumble in his chest deepens before he shoves away from me. He steps back, his eyes a little wild, and runs a hand through his hair.

I bite my lip and start to step forward, to press the advantage I feel I have but stop as soon as I see the change in him. He was looking down for a second, just one second, but that was all it took.

The wild out of control Eric is gone. He is back to the cold and calculating one. Wearing a wide smirk and his head raises.

“Okay.” His tone is a strange combination that I can’t even describe. All I know is it sends both anticipation and worry through me.

Then he steps forward again and that heat I felt just yesterday envelops me making me feel nothing but raw hunger and need. He grabs my wrist and starts to lead me out. This time he barely takes into account my height as he sets the pace. It takes us no time to make it from the almost empty area the bathroom was into the overcrowded dance floor and bar set up.

Some rational thinking kicks in and I realize I need to let someone know what’s going on.

“I have to tell my friends…”

“They’ll figure it out.” He interrupts me with a smirk and looks over his shoulder a little.

I crane my neck and look to see that a few of my friends are on the dance floor and looking at us with wide eyes. Ash is one of them.

I send him an apologetic smile and then gasp when Eric jerks me back around. This time he pulls me completely against his side and wraps his arm around my waist. He all but picks me up and carries me the rest of the way out of Club Onyx.

I debate telling him I changed my mind but the drunken loss of inhibitions doesn’t allow me. My drunkenness is mortifyingly confirmed when I almost twist my ankle twice and finally my legs almost buckle while trying to keep up the pace he set.

Eric stops me from falling with a curse and whips me up into his arms, bridal style, without even really breaking stride. A strong moment of deja vu stops me from protesting as a faint and hazy memory emerges.

The memory a night when Eric caught me in his arms and held me close, refusing to let me down. Pleasure and warmth from the memory add the desire.

“You could have taken me home that night. I wouldn’t have minded then. Why didn't you?” I ask as we walk and he’s keeping his eyes on the dark and winding path out of the part where the Club is housed.

“I told you before. You were drunk and I don’t take advantage of drunk girls, no matter how fucking tempting they are.” At this last part, he turns his head towards me. I see his blue blazing with the same hunger I’m feeling.

I can’t speak for what I think is only for a few seconds. It turns out to be much longer because he had long ago looked away and now we’re in front of a door. He glances at me with a frown as he lowers me to my feet. As soon as they touch solid ground he pulls me tight to his side again. Once he has me tucked in like he wants me, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out keys. He almost kicks the door in before he ushers me through and I hear it slam behind as he does kick it closed.

He moves us so fast I barely notice anything about his apartment other than it is definitely an apartment. He rushes me through the living area and into a dark bedroom. He flicks on a light switch and finally releases his hold on me.

“Wait here.” He demands and then disappears back out of it. He’s back again before I have time to get my bearings or even move, holding something black in his hands. He moves past me into another dark room that is revealed to be a bathroom when he flicks on that light.

I frown and take a step when I hear what must be the faucet running and cabinets being opened and slammed shut. He comes back out with a scowl on his face.

“There are pills on the counter. Take those and drink the water. Get a shower and I left a shirt for you to put on to sleep in.”

My jaw drops a little and I shake my head in confusion. “What?”

He advances again and takes my clutch from me. He roots around in it, takes my keys and the phone, then pockets them both before tossing the whole thing to the side on a chair in the room.

He then jerks me against his body and crashes his mouth against mine. Our teeth gnash against each other as we both let loose the hunger we’re feeling. By the time he releases me from the kiss I’m panting and spinning.

Not all of it from the kiss either.

He steadies me and scowls as he holds me close. “It won’t be when your drunk or have even had anything to drink, Devi. I want you, but I won’t have you like this.”

I have to lay my head on his chest due to the spinning, dizziness and burning of tears in my eyes. “So why bring me here dammit.”

“Because the fucking thought of you out there like this is enough to drive me to want to hurt someone. I wouldn’t care if they were a friend of yours or not. I want you in with me in my bed, but I don’t trust myself enough to even allow that right now. This is my spare room. In here, I’ll know you’re safe from me and everything else.”

Something about that touches me and I sigh out his name. I let out a shuddering breath and his arms circle around me. The embrace is comforting and claiming all at the same time. It ends too soon though because he pulls back and lifts my chin once more to look at him. “I said you are different and if you can remember this in the morning, maybe you will see I’m proving that to you.”

He places a small gentle kiss to the tip of my nose and then gently pushes me towards the bathroom. I walk in and look at him over my shoulder as I grab the door to close it. The wild look is back. So is the chest heaving and clenched fists. I hesitate to close it but he shakes his head and backs away.

“Tomorrow, Devi. I’ll be here when you wake up tomorrow.” Then it seems like he melts into the darkness and I hear the door to the room click.

I close the bathroom door and lean against it.

The mirror in front of me shows the reflection of a girl I don’t even know right now. Who is this girl that’s feeling hunger like I have never felt before?

It’s almost like I’m the old me. The one from back in Amity that lived and loved with such wild and passion.

Was it always there and the serum just brought it, and only it, forth? Is that what Eric is to me now? Some kind of drug that brings out a side I thought I might have lost forever.

All the questions and events of the night have my mind spinning.

There isn’t an answer for me right now. The only way I can get one is to move forward and find out.

But, in the light of day will I remember this? In that harsh morning after light am I going to want to find out as much as I do now?

I take the pills, drink the water, step into the shower and then put on the shirt that smells so much like Eric it makes me feel like I wrapped in his arms again. I almost think that I won’t be able to sleep at all but it finds me sooner than I would have liked.

#fanfiction #divergent fanfiction #eric x oc #divergent au #smut #romance #humor #eric coulter #oc #jai courtney #diane guerrero

26 notes · View notes

mustardprecum · 5 years

Note

27 for harringrove please 🥺 (it’dbe appreciated if steve’s the one that’s preggers thank you!)

[27 “I’m pregnant.”]

Steve had decided to try and get pregnant. The notion came to him shortly after El’s birthday, when Steve realized that all his kids were over twenty-one. The abrupt ache of an empty nest got the ball rolling, and after more researching and reading than he’d done during any one year of school, he made his decision.

Most of the people in his life were well meaning when he told them, but also rudely disbelieving. After all, Steve was a single omega in his mid-twenties, mostly living off a trust fund from his parents and a hefty inheritance from his great aunt. Money he was very grateful for, considering he’d never be able to afford owning a house in the new development near downtown with his sporadic part time jobs.

(Good ol’ Aunt Phyllis would have been stoked to find out that he choosing to be a single parent.)

The issue with the public perception of his personality was the fact that it was largely based off the person he was in his sophomore and junior year of high school. Steve had grown and changed from the flakey teenager. One could almost say he was literally an adult.

At least Dustin supported him. Mostly.

“Steve, you can’t be serious.”

Dustin sat at the island in Steve’s kitchen, eating a bowl of cut up strawberries that Steve had put out for him. Old habits die hard, and Steve had been one of the few people who could get a young Dustin to eat his fruits and vegetables. “I mean of all the people in Hawkins, in the world, why him?”

Earl grey tea was kind of gross, but Steve was trying to stop drinking coffee for his caffeine fix. He took his time stirring in a packet of stevia while he considered his answer.

Billy Hargrove had come along in Steve’s senior year of high school and had promptly become a massive pain in the ass. Although, one thing that set him apart from all the other alpha meatheads was the fact that his taunts and jabs were purely personal for Steve, and never once did he resort to misogyny.

God, the bar had been so low at that time.

Over the past ten years, Billy had mellowed out slightly but noticeably. He worked at the mechanic Steve frequented for oil changes and tune ups, and lived in the periphery of Steve’s life because of his association with Max. And he still seized every opportunity to try and rile Steve up by getting in his personal space and commenting on his ‘ugly’ shirts.

(Steve didn’t know when Billy developed a hatred of polo shirts, but it was apparently long lasting.)

In the grand scheme of things though, none of it mattered more than one thing: Billy’s genes. He was a dick of the massive variety but goddamn if he hadn’t spent the past ten years being the most gorgeous person Steve had ever seen in his entire life.

He smoked like a chimney and often had a beer in hand, but his skin was clear, his hair was soft, and his abs were extremely enviable.

“I don’t want to go through a clinic,” Steve started. He quickly held up his hand before Dustin could start ranting. “I’m not going to ask someone I babysat to donate. I’m not really close with any other alphas in town, and an alpha is my best bet.”

Dustin knew all of that. As a male omega, Steve would have fertility issues with a beta for scientific reasons he didn’t actually understand. Mike and Lucas had both been presented as options in Dustin’s argument, but the idea was too wrong.

“Billy is…close enough, but far enough. You know?” Steve set his mug down; he honestly didn’t want to drink his tea. “If he says yes, working on inception will be pretty easy. If he says no, it’s not really a big deal. We’re not friends, so it won’t have to be awkward.”

Privately, Steve assured himself that it had nothing to do with the crush he used to have on Billy. Therefore, it wasn’t inappropriate to ask.

“But he’s such a tool,” Dustin said around a mouthful of strawberries. “Do you think he won’t be a tool about it?”

“God. I know he’s going to be a tool about it. But,” Steve shrugged. “Just think of how cute my baby would be.”

Dustin raised an eyebrow.

“I would have a really cute baby, Dustin. And you would have a really cute little baby pseudo-sibling.”

Poor Dustin, the only child, twenty-three and still wanting that younger sibling. He perked up, still looking skeptical but finally chewing quietly.

“Plus, it’s all going to be in a contract. No parental or financial obligation,” Steve added to sweeten the deal. “I’ll get a positive test, pay him, and he’ll fuck off to wherever he spends his time.”

Dustin hummed, drumming his fingers on the table. “I’m still godfather?”

“Obviously.”

“Okay,” Dustin bounced, smiling broadly. He was excited for a baby, and when he smiled, he looked like a cheetah cub. “Well, Max said she’d text you his number so…good luck?”

“Thanks.”

Sending the text was nerve-wracking, even though all he sent was ‘can we get lunch?’ Steve had put his phone face down and tried to distract himself with scrolling through reddit and Tumblr, but waiting for a response was even worse than sending the message.

He’d followed up with several messages explaining who he was, once it occurred to him that Billy probably had no idea who was texting him. Eventually, Billy finally responded telling Steve to stop blowing up his fucking phone.

Despite Steve’s fears of Billy’s attitude after that response, he was invited to a Starbucks in between their homes. Steve distantly recalled Max mentioning that she was envious of the studio apartment that Billy was renting over a storefront. How privileged was he that he couldn’t imagine having the same room functioning as the bedroom/living room/public space?

Billy was already there when Steve arrived. He was sipping a green frappucino and staring down at his phone.

The last time Steve had seen Billy even in passing was the month before during the Hopper family’s Fourth of July party. He was even more gorgeous than Steve remembered even looking a little grimey like he’d come straight from work.

“Hey,” he approached the table, trying to smile when Billy’s blue eyes snapped up. “Thanks for meeting me. Mind if I grab a drink real quick?”

“Depends, pretty boy,” Billy leaned back, smiling in that special way that gave Steve a major sexuality crisis in high school. “Why did you ask me out?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Steve whipped his head around as if anyone else cared about the two of them meeting up. No one was looking. He sat down heavily and sighed. “I’m…I have a favor to ask. But I kind of wanted to ease into asking.”

“Interesting,” Billy drawled. “What could ‘King Steve’ possibly want from little ol’ me.”

“I’m almost thirty, Billy. Please don’t call me that.” Steve looked down at his hands, maybe this was a bad idea. There was no way Billy would agree to being a donor.

“Look Harrington, I’m leaving in five minutes so spit it out.”

“Oh come on,” Steve whined, bouncing his leg. “It’s not the sort of thing you just spit out!”

Billy slurped loudly at his drink. “You want me to murder someone?”

“Obviously not. Kind of…the opposite?” Steve winced when his voice went squeaky toward the end. He cleared his throat, deciding to continue because Billy had wrinkled his nose. “Okay, so, I used to babysit a lot and I know how to take care of kids. I miss taking care of kids. And, well, I have money and time, right?”

“Right,” Billy said blankly.

“Right,” Steve nodded and took a deep steadying breath. “So I’ve decided that I want to start a family. With a baby. And me. Single.”

Bringing up starting a family generally brought up the question of Steve finding someone to settle down with. The issue was that he didn’t want a partner or a romantic relationship; he didn’t feel that having a child should presuppose finding a mate.

“But I need a sperm donor and, uh, well,” Steve’s nerves were completely frayed at that point. Which was probably why he ended doing the saddest jazz hands.

The blank look was gone and Billy’s eyes were practically sparkling, which Steve translated as trouble. He bit his lip, knee still bouncing noisily under the table.

“A donor,” Billy practically purred. “You want me to get you pregnant.”

When he phrased it like that, Steve couldn’t help but blush. He cleared his throat, wishing he’d just gotten a drink before bothering to speak to Billy so that he could sip it and buy some time. “Basically. You don’t have to sleep with me, the cup method works fine.”

“And other than not-sleeping with you,” Billy sounded a little snotty. “What’s in it for me?”

Only a little mocking was infinitely better than outright refusal. And he was getting to the part Steve was actually comfortable with. “$600 for each attempt,” he said. It was a lowball, but considering it was under the table, the supplemental income wasn’t half bad. “I’m tracking my cycle, so we’d only need to try about two days each month.”

“And after?”

Steve paused. “After inception I’ll give you an extra thousand.”

“No, I mean once you’re pregnant, how does it work?” The serious look on Billy’s face was unnerving. Steve was briefly worried that he was about to say he wanted to stay in the picture. “You know how to take care of kids that don’t go home at the end of the day?”

“Does anyone?”

Billy’s face hardened. “You don’t just have a kid on a whim, Harrington,” he said lowly. “Can you actually take care of one for the rest of your life?”

Living in a town like Hawkins and having a direct relationship with Max meant Steve was familiar with the Hargrove family history. How Billy’s mother abandoned him, how his father abused him, how long he’d lived in that toxic place before finally escaping and taking Max with him when it seemed Neil was turning on her as well.

Despite how horrible that was, Steve couldn’t help the warm feeling in his chest.

“I don’t yell, I don’t believe in corporal punishment, and I’m on book four of twenty on my parenting book reading list.” He didn’t add that they were all audiobooks because he had such a hard time reading. “I wouldn’t try to have a baby if I wasn’t ready to do everything I could to give them a good life.”

Steve hoped his face was as open as he wanted it to be as Billy searched him. Of all the reactions he expected, this hadn’t been one. It made him feel better about Billy as a candidate.

Finally, Billy slurped his frappucino again and grinned wolfishly. “When do we start?”

Continued on AO3

#harringrove #mpreg #a/b/o dynamics #sorry this took me so long #Anonymous #mp answers

157 notes · View notes

diminished-fish · 4 years

Text

References for “A Portrait in Synesthesia”

This fic is COMPLETE now, so anyone who might have been hesitant to follow a wip, here you go! The whole synesthetic package, wrapped up with a nice lil bow on top. :3

For those who might have missed the masterpost: the fic was my contribution to the good omens big bang and is a sweeping, canon-compliant romp through history, told in (almost) all original scenes, with lots of nature imagery and T.S. Eliot. Kind of my own cold open, but with way more feelings and flowers. Also the sea. And an emotionally significant comet.

I had the opportunity to throw all of myself at this project and really enjoyed making it an intense focus for a while. In a way, it was an experiment to see how much I was capable of, which as it turns out, is more than I thought! (there’s a lesson here, probably...). Going this deep with the research and worldbuilding is not something I will likely be doing often for fic writing, but since I did with this one, I figured I’d share a bit of the process.

Under the cut are major spoilers for the timeline, story, and historic events in my recent fic, A Portrait in Synesthesia. I had originally planned to post this information in the end notes of the fic, but at some point, the list got way too long and posting it here became the sensible choice. There is a link to this post in the end notes of the fic, so it will be easy to find your way back here if you get to the end and want to know a bit more about the writing and research process.

The Title:

Putting this bit at the top because I don’t know where else to put it: The working title for this fic throughout the entire writing process was “In Synesthesia.” I almost changed the final title in the eleventh hour to “The Still Point of the Turning World” because of what a prevalent theme Eliot became (that line was also slipped into the story three times at important moments — once for each POV character). I also briefly considered “Always, We Were Enough” as a title, since the conversation with Adrielle at the lighthouse kind of... accidentally became the thesis of the whole story, but that was a bit too sappy even for me, a Confirmed Sap.

And while I’ll be questioning my choice of title for the rest of forever (titling things is hard, y’all), I ultimately thought the more descriptive title was best, and wanted to keep the nod to the song that inspired it all.

Speaking of the song... have you listened to it yet?? It’s great, I promise!

youtube

Synesthesia:

This was my research starting point. Before I dug into any of the historical or astronomical research or even started any serious plotting, I started reading about synesthesia, or, as Psychology Today defines it: the neurological condition in which the stimulation of one sensory or cognitive pathway (for example, hearing) leads to automatic, involuntary experiences in a second sensory or cognitive pathway (such as vision).

Full disclosure: I do not have synesthesia. I spent a LOT of time researching it for this fic and did my best to portray it accurately, in spite of the fantastical elements I added. If I’ve overstepped or gotten something wrong and there are any synesthetes out there who would like to talk about it, I am very open to those discussions. The AO3 comments are always open to that, or you can message me/send me an ask here if you would like a less public forum.

I probably read r/Synesthesia in its entirety, but this thread of first-hand accounts was one of the most interesting to me and provided a lot of the inspiration for how I used the emotional synesthesia imagery.

Besides everyone’s favorite research staring point of Wikipedia, this link is one I got from Boston University’s Synesthesia Project, and it is a pretty exhaustive list of research and books, as well as art and poetry about synesthesia. I have also been working my way through The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat and Other Clinical Tales, by Oliver Sacks which is the book that came most frequently recommended to me in my search. It’s an extremely approachable and interesting look at neurological conditions, synesthesia among them.

As it appears in the fic:

In a broad, generalized sense, Aziraphale and Crowley have a few types of synesthesia in this story. Obviously, I gave it a supernatural/celestial twist and a healthy glug of magical realism, but I did try to keep it firmly rooted in the actual condition. The types of synesthesia they have are:

Chromesthesia: they both have this. Sounds, specifically each other’s voices, have a color association

Lexical-gustatory synesthesia/emotion-flavor synesthesia: Aziraphale has this. Words (in this case, emotions, specifically Crowley’s emotional state) have a taste.

Odor-color synesthesia/emotion-odor synesthesia: Crowley has this. Words (again, emotions, specifically Aziraphale’s emotional state) have a smell.

One of the defining characteristics of synesthesia is that it is constant. If a synesthete connects the number 9 with the color blue, for example, then they will always connect them in this way. This was the major difference between real synesthesia and the fantasy synesthesia in this fic. The sensory/emotion connections for Aziraphale and Crowley changed in subtle ways as their relationship evolved through the ages.

The “binding thread” also had nothing to do with synesthesia. That was me wanting to make the spool analogy work for the body swap, baking it into the entire fic because I liked how the imagery fit with the synesthesia, and then leaning into the magic and the soul memory so hard that I fell flat on my face into magical realism. (A True Fact: I have spent a fair amount of time lying on the floor in the past 6 months, shaking my fist at the cute little plot bunny who grew fangs and claws and dragged me down a rabbit hole that ended up being 100k words deep).

Anyway! Research!

Before I get into space and history and flowers... Yes, I admit to absolutely making up some wacky shit about Europa for the sake of fun banter and making a metaphor work. All those pre-Fall scenes on abandoned Earths are 100% a fantasy setting and I exercised the super fun right of a fantasy writer and embraced the worldbuilding (moonbuilding?). I also just thought Crowley would have delighted in tying a moon’s guts in knots, and Aziraphale would have delighted in the idea of whimsy-for-whimsy’s-sake. Please don’t lose sleep over the scientific inaccuracies.

Halley’s comet:

I promise not to bog this down with a billion comet facts, but there were a few particular things about Halley’s comet that had me gasping dramatically about how it’s “A.J. Crowley, but a comet!!” Specifically, it’s orbit and it’s structure.

Halley’s retrograde orbit gives it one of the fastest velocities (relative to Earth) of any object in the solar system. I never explicitly worked the “you go too fast for me” line into the fic because I was trying to do original scenes (this particular story lived between the lines), but... just know that tidbit is there and join me in these emotional dire straits. If you like.

The comet’s structure is what is known as a “rubble pile”, meaning it’s made up of a bunch of smaller rocks held together by gravity (read: a hot god damn mess held together by stubbornness).

As it appears in the fic:

The nucleus of Halley’s comet is shaped like a weird lopsided peanut. In fact, one could almost look at it and say it resembles a contact binary star, if such a thing could be a shriveled, misshapen pile of rubble.

Officially, Halley’s comet might have been recorded as early as 467 BC (a comet was recorded in Greece that year— unclear if it was Halley’s, but the timing and the fact that it was visible to the naked eye suggests that it probably was). This was the year I had Aziraphale making the scroll that causes Crowley’s panic in Athens (390 BC). I like to think that some human, at some point, caught a glimpse of it and tried to bring it to light, only to be written off as a crazed conspiracy theorist.

The apocalyptic depiction of Halley’s comet in chapter 9 (Bithynia) is actually based in fact. The comet made its closest approach to Earth (in human memory) in 837 AD, passing within 5 million kilometers. Its tail stretched halfway across the sky and it appeared as bright as Venus to the naked eye.

1910 Halley’s Comet panic. Bonus: c o m e t p i l l s

Where 1910′s appearance was a spectacular sight and one of the closest approaches on record (coming within 22 million kilometers of Earth), 1986′s was the worst viewing conditions in 2,000 years. The comet passed within 63 million kilometers at its closest approach, and had the sun positioned between it and Earth, making it impossible to see from areas with any amount of light pollution, and almost invisible to all of the northern hemisphere.

Historic events and settings:

Chapter 6 (Ostia): This was one of the chapters that I did a bunch of arguably unnecessary research for, since the history and the meat of the setting faded into the backdrop as the scene itself focused on dialogue and train of thought. The port town of Ostia was incredibly engrossing to read about, and between wikipedia’s ever-branching paths, ostia-antica.org, and ancient history encyclopedia’s entry, it ended up being one of the deeper rabbit holes I went down. My original intent for Aziraphale being in town was as a response to pirates sacking Ostia in 68 BC. I had him stationed there to guard against further attacks as the town rebuilt, and had him lingering because he was swept away by the romanticism of the art and the sea and the constant ebb & flow of people. I never found a way to work this in that didn’t feel super awkward and expository since the chapter was Crowley POV, so it was just left it as background noise.

Chapter 6 (pyramid of Cestius): Beyond being a magistrate of one of the four great religious corporations in ancient Rome (the Septemviri Epulonum), little is known about who Gaius Cestius actually was. As the city expanded, his lavish tomb was absorbed into the city walls (circa 3rd century AD), where it remains what he is remembered for to this day. I took most of my information from here (cross referenced with our lord and savior, Wikipedia) and had a chuckle at this poem by Thomas Hardy.

Chapter 8 (Plague of Justinian): The Yersinia pestis bacterium leaves no indicator on skeletal remains, meaning we rely on written records to track its path through history. The 6th century plague pandemic is the first recorded outbreak of bubonic plague, and for the purpose of our story, a certain distraught chronicler was the one on site, writing that history.

A note/cw: I wrote chapters 8 and 12 in October and November, respectively, and did much of my research for them over the summer. I imagine, given the current covid-19 pandemic, these sources would be less fun to follow up on now. Please be aware that the podcast episodes linked here, and the book cited in the miscellaneous refs section, get into pretty grisly details about illness and pandemics.

Chapters 8 and 12 (bubonic plague/The Black Death): I took a fair amount of my notes on bubonic/pnuemonic plague, specifically it’s path of destruction through Europe in the 14th century, from the two plague episodes of This Podcast Will Kill You. It’s pretty fascinating stuff and the Erins are great hosts, so check it out if you’re into delightful nerds bantering about epidemiology!

Chapter 9 (the death of Peter of Atroa): Peter of Atroa was an abbot whose fame as a miracle-worker landed him in a scandal accusing him of exorcising demons by the power of Beelzebub, rather than God. Theodore the Studite’s letter cleared his name enough to avoid execution, but his reputation didn’t fully recover until after his death in 837 AD, when he was canonized as a saint. Peter and Theodore were tough to find extensive information on without passing through a paywall, so I took these scraps and ran a mile with them.

Chapter 13 (Tlatelolco, the Aztec Empire, the Feast of the Dead): I used this site as the source and starting point on much of my research on the Aztec Empire. And listen… I know it looks like a website for babies, and yes, I’m aware that a lot of the articles are literally written for a pre-teen audience, but it’s also one of the most concise, thorough, well-researched, and — perhaps most importantly — easily-searchable sources I found. Most of the pages cite papers and archaeological journals and I was able to jump to SO many other great sources of information. Mexicolore has my undying love and devotion for making my research process easy and fun and also having lots of pretty pictures.

Most of the physical descriptions for Tenochtitlan and Tlatelolco (surrounding landscape, canals and causeways, chinampas, etc.) started here.

Tenochtitlan and Tlatelolco were independent cities, but shared a border (kind of like a city and a suburb) and the small island on Lake Texcoco (located where present day Mexico City is). Tenochtitlan was the capital city of the Aztec Empire, and besides cross-referencing Mexicorlore, the link in the previous bullet point, and Wikipedia, I got a fair bit of information from these essays.

Tlatelolco’s market was the major hub of trade and commerce, and saw 20-40,000 people trading PER DAY. Research on the market started here.

Chapter 14 (Terschelling and the Brandaris lighthouse): While I strove for historical accuracy as much as possible in this fic, I did take some liberties— especially with the island of Terschelling and the Brandaris lighthouse (yes, it’s real!) circa 1350-1435.

The village of Brandarius is based on present day West Terschelling— a settlement founded as a direct result of the lighthouse. In the middle ages, both the village and the lighthouse were named after Saint Brandarius (or Brendan of Clonfert: ‘The Navigator’, ‘The Voyager’, ‘The Anchorite’, ‘The Bold’; patron saint of divers, mariners, and travellers). It’s still a relatively small village today, and it was a surprisingly difficult task to find historical records for Brandarius/West Terschelling dating back to the 14th century that say much beyond “it existed.” I loosely based the village off information found here, and named it “Brandarius” instead of “West Terschelling” based on the information found here.

The original lighthouse was built in 1323, destroyed by the sea in 1570, and rebuilt in 1594. Since there were no records (that I could find) of what the original lighthouse looked like, I loosely based the height and floor plan on the current tower, and made up everything everything else about the interior. The interior was based on information about other live-in lighthouses, specifically this one which is roughly the same height as the Brandaris.

The present day Brandaris lighthouse sits directly in the middle of West Terschelling. For the sake of that sweet Self-Imposed Exile + Cryptid Lighthouse Keeper drama, I took the liberty of making my fictional village of Brandarius teeny tiny and setting it slightly apart from the lighthouse.

Miscellaneous references:

In addition to the podcast, details about plague in chapters 8 and 12 were gleaned from the book The Great Mortality by John Kelly. It’s a cool read if you’re into nonfiction that reads like fiction, but does have some rather graphic passages so proceed with caution.

Yaretzi’s maquizcóatl/Aziraphale’s memento. To clarify, they were NOT the same item. I pictured Aziraphale cherishing the memory of the day by the lake with Yaretzi so much, that once he acquired the bookshop and had a place for all his kitsch, he hunted down a bad luck dragon of his own.

Here is the Aztec creation story about sun cycles and Earth’s rebirths that Yaretzi told Aziraphale. Another version of it.

In the scene in Mexico where Aziraphale briefly remembers, I used an analogy about a moment that hovers and flits away as “quick as a hummingbird.” Besides just liking the words, this was a nod to the legend of the cempasuchil flower. I originally had Yaretzi telling Aziraphale that story too, but the chapter was just way too long and something had to go.

In my very first outline, I had Aziraphale’s grief and personal growth chapter taking place at a Día de Muertos festival in Mexico. When the plot and the timeline finally got ironed out and I realized only half of that story was going to take place on Earth, I ended up focusing on Aziraphale’s brief relationship with Yaretzi instead of the festival itself (she was always the important bit). I also found myself married to the idea of that chapter happening in the 14th and 15th centuries, which meant the scenes in Mexico take place before Spain invaded and the festival was based solely on its Aztec roots. Because the plot shifted in this way, a lot of research went on behind the scenes that never made it into the fic, but for anyone interested in the Aztec Feast of the Dead, Mexicolore was my starting place again. From there, I found my way to reading about Mictecacíhuatl, the Aztec goddess of death, who was the main focus of the festival.

This isn’t research, but it might interest, like… three of you, so here you go. The scenes in Heaven (Aziraphale’s solo chapter in general tbh) were hard to write. One of those walls you hit with writing where you kick and punch and bang your head against it for months (literal months, I started wrestling with it in August and it didn’t come together until the end of January) but can’t seem to make any breakthroughs. Inspiration truly comes from unexpected places though, and when @gottagobuycheese sent me this Gregorian chant generator it actually… worked? I cranked that hum slider up to 100 and left it there for a few days (to the chagrin of my spouse) and lo— Zophiel.

There’s a cool legend about Saint Brendan of Clonfert’s sea-faring journey in search of the Garden of Eden that has nothing to do with this fic beyond being neat parallel. If that happens to be anyone’s cup of tea, the story is here. The tl;dr version is here. My original vision for the lighthouse included carved whales (St Brendan’s attribute) over the front door, and images from this story (the island of sheep, the Christmas island, the paradise island of birds) drawn on the walls of one of the bedrooms used by previous keepers’ children. Continuing the theme of “how stories echo” if you will. It felt really awkward and out of place once I wrote it in though, and that chapter was already so long once I got through all the plot bits I wanted, so it was left on the cutting room floor.

Speaking of taking liberties with the 14th century, I did fudge the timing a bit on the art created by Crowley and Adrielle. Drawings, especially pencil sketches, have their historical roots in the late 15th century, and I’m chalking this one up to the fantastical setting of the Good Omens universe. In a fantasy world where angels and demons walk among us and the earth is literally 6,000 years old, I feel like inventing pencils 100 years early is small potatoes. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

This is the edition of A Midsummer Night’s Dream that Crowley nicked in Norwich. There are some really wonderful illustrations and scans of full pages under that link. I may or may not have lost a few hours down that research rabbit hole for a few throwaway lines (no regrets, I fall like Crowley).

One last rabbit hole...

I saved this bit for the end of the post since it’s not really research and I don’t know how interested people will be in this kind of thing. Also... this is a lot more emotional and personal than the historical aspects of the fic. This is just what I was feeling and thinking while I was writing, and this story is absolutely the kind of thing I expect everyone to take something different away from. If you read the fic, took your own meaning from it, and want to keep that meaning without me tarnishing it by babbling about symbolism (first of all, high five, I love you, thank you for hanging out with me and my stories), then feel free to skip the rest of this post. <3

But! For anyone who wants to know more about what I had in mind with the flowers and nature metaphors I worked into the story, read on!

The tag “it’s an OT3 where Earth is the third” is something I really worked to pull to center stage. In my mind, Earth was a fully formed character who also spent the pre-Fall storyline being jerked around by God and having its memory wiped. It experienced transformations, pain, heartbreak, joy, and love just like Aziraphale and Crowley did, and I wrote it as falling in love with the two of them over the course of the Earth Project, then remaining very much in love for the entirety of iteration 23 (the current iteration). “Memories that are buried in places deeper than the mind” referred to the soul imprints being formed, but also Earth’s buried memories— seeping through the cracks to connect them via synesthesia in emotionally charged moments, allowing them to find each other from orbit in iterations 20 and 21 (music and the sea), and pulling them together in moments of distress like Constantinople and Barcelona.

In the vein of “Earth as a character,” I used plants (mainly flowers), topography, and weather as Earth’s “voice” in the grief chapters when Crowley and Aziraphale were separated from each other and going through their individual arcs. I’m not sure it technically counts as flower language, since all the flowers featured in the fic were wild and growing in nature, but (almost) all of them served a metaphorical purpose.

Flowers:

Jasmine (for the moon): Aziraphale’s flower. Love, beauty, sensuality, good luck, purity. The rational hedonist.

Marigolds (for the sun): Crowley’s flower. Grief and remembrance of the dead, lost love, the fragility of life, creativity, winning the affections of someone through hard work. The fallen artist.

Purple Hyacinth: Earth’s flower. Regret, sorrow, a desire for forgiveness. The witness. These were the wildflowers that grew in the orchard/vineyard on the penultimate Earth, where Aziraphale and Crowley managed to work out the differences they couldn’t by the sea. Hyacinths are also the hazy images they would see in those moments of vulnerability, compassion, and compromise.

A fun aside! In very early drafts, the placeholder name I was using for angel Crowley was Jacinto, which is a Spanish/Portuguese name meaning “Hyacinth.” It was meant to be a reference to both the flower and the Greek myth of Apollo and Hyacinth, but my brain absolutely could not disconnect it from Manny Jacinto (and kept insisting on imagining Crowley calling Aziraphale homie and calling everything dope). Eventually I leaned into the Latin and landed on Joriel, then attached my banner to the Achilles and Patroclus myth instead of Apollo and Hyacinth, but the name Jacinto still makes me think of starmakers.

Honeysuckle & morning glory, climbing the oak tree: Aziraphale + Crowley + Earth. Seen in chapter 10, when Aziraphale and Crowley shake hands on the Arrangement. Two plants whose vines grow in opposing spirals. In nature, they have a symbiotic relationship, twining around each other in order to climb trees, walls, and fences, allowing both of them to grow higher than they could alone.

Or: local woman sees this tweet, hasn’t known peace since.

The deasilwise / widdershins (clockwise / anticlockwise) thing got sprinkled throughout the story, with deasilwise being the “angel direction” and widdershins being the “demon direction.” Halley’s comet, with its backwards orbit, orbits the sun deasilwise, even after Crowley becomes widdershins.

Amaranth: Immortality, unfading affection, finding beauty in inaccessible places.

The garden in the dunes and Petya’s travelling garden:

Where Aziraphale took a methodical, Kubler-Ross approach to dealing with loss, Crowley’s process was meandering and chaotic. The garden in the dunes was where it all came to a head— his way of throwing all of his emotions on the ground like a big jumbled pile of pick-up sticks, then slowly sorting through them and putting himself back together. There was a whole lot of Earth/flower speech going on in those scenes.

With the exception of zinnias, the garden was made up of perennials or self-sowing flowers. This happened “off-screen” as I could never find a decent way to work it in, but... the zinnias which Crowley bullied into being perennials returned to being annuals and died off after he left Terschelling and sometimes I still cry in the shower about it.

Zinnias: Adrielle’s flower. Endurance, lasting friendship (especially friendships lasting through absence), goodness, daily remembrance. This one is also a small self-indulgence on my part since Adrielle was something of a self-insert. My mother loves zinnias and, growing up, our house was absolutely surrounded by them in the summer. Anywhere there was a free patch of dirt, Mom planted zinnias. They’re a scrappy, weird looking flower that doesn’t have a smell and a lot of people find rather ugly... and I love them with my entire heart. There is no flower on this earth that fills me with more whimsy, nostalgia, or childlike contentment. Also butterflies love them.

Chamomile: Patience. Fresh chamomile flowers are very aromatic and smell like apples.

Daisies: Transformation. Also simplicity, loyalty, and new beginnings.

Poppies: Restful sleep or recovery, peace in death, remembrance.

Tulips: Each tulip color has its own meaning, but the most common thing they symbolize is deep love. That said, I mainly chose this one for their prevalence in the Netherlands, as well as being very colorful perennials.

Pansies: The love or admiration that one person holds for another, free thinking, remembrance.

Lily of the valley: Rebirth, the return of happiness. They also have a very strong, very sweet smell and can grow in cool climates. These were the main reasons I chose it, rather than any of the religious connotations.

Lavender: Silence, devotion, serenity, grace.

Orchids: There’s... actually no deep symbolism with this one. Nothing intended anyway. Orchids, lavender, and cranberries are the dominant native plants on the island of Terschelling. I thought they’d be pretty in the dunes.

I am also a music-must-be-playing-at-all-times kind of person and I came out the other end of this project with FIFTEEN (15) playlists. Some of them are all instrumental playlists that I used to set the mood while I wrote certain scenes/segments, others are lyrical and tell a story or helped me sort out the story, some chapters got entire playlists all to themselves (looking at you, 14th century). The main playlists are linked in the notes on AO3, but I may collect them all in a tumblr post at some point if there’s an interest.

This entire project was an enormous labor of love that took up pretty much all of my free time for six months. So, if you read this far... thank you for coming on such a long journey with me!! Truly, deeply, and from every corner of my heart, thank you for reading. <3

18 notes · View notes

juju-on-that-yeet · 4 years

Text

Unravel, Chapter 7/20

Work Summary: Antisepticeye has a plan to destroy Darkiplier, steal his power, and take over everything - and he might just succeed. What starts with Yandereplier going missing evolves into a messy web of betrayal and grief, of blood and tears, of old wounds and new faces. However this ends, Ego Inc. will never be the same again. Chapter Summary: As agreed, Dr. Iplier tells no one of his discussion with Anti. He turns the conversation over in his mind, trying to make sense of it, find a way out. Eventually, he has no choice but to put Anti’s plan in motion. Warnings: Needles, body horror, death

Read on AO3

Enjoy!

Two more weeks pass.

For most of the egos, they pass as slowly and skin-crawlingly as the two before. For Dr. Iplier, though, time passes with a completely different timbre.

There’s no longer any uncertainty, no more long nights spent wondering what’s become of Yandere, where he could be, why he was taken. No, Dr. Iplier is now kept awake thinking of Yandere in Anti’s clutches, fearing how Anti might be hurting him at any moment, and staring at his bedside table, staring at the drawer that has the potion tucked inside, at the very back corner.

Dr. Iplier keeps it close, too afraid to have it out of arm’s reach for even a moment. At night it’s in the drawer, during the day it’s in a pocket, whether it be his coat pocket if he’s working or pants pocket if he’s not. He still doesn’t want to use it, still doesn’t want to force it into Dark, but the more he thinks the situation over, the more trapped he feels.

He cannot tell anyone anything, or Yandere will die. Anti will kill him horribly, make him suffer, and even if he comes back to life, he’ll have that death hanging over him forever, have that traumatizing memory as a part of him for the rest of the life he does live. Dr. Iplier knows how death can haunt a figment; he’s helped Host through many a nightmare, bandaged his eyes many a time. Host is not broken, but he is not the man he was before he died. Death changed him. Death will change Yandere. And that’s only if the egos can find him before Anti kills him again, and again, until he finally fades away forever.

Not to mention, Dr. Iplier reasons, there’s no way to be certain of exactly how the potion will affect Dark. All Anti knows is that it “splits people into their base essences,” and that could mean anything. For someone like Dark, who’s a jigsaw of souls and monsters, there’s any number of ways the effect could manifest. Dark might not even lose his aura at all; it might be so much a part of him now that it’s impossible to pull away. Even if the potion does split them up, Dark’s aura has a mind of its own. Anti seemed so sure he could snatch it up, but could he really? The aura is where Dark’s power comes from; it’s strong, dangerous, volatile, but most importantly, made for Dark. How could anyone else possibly control it? Dr. Iplier wishes he could talk these questions out with someone, or even ask Bim about the potion and what, hypothetically, something like it could do. But Dr. Iplier doesn’t dare; there’s no way Anti would allow it.

Dr. Iplier doesn’t see Anti at all after that fateful meeting, but he knows he’s there. He feels static crackle in the air when he’s alone. He catches glitches on his cell phone, hears weird background noise on the TV. Even his coffee machine fritzes and buzzes. Sometimes Dr. Iplier considers giving in and telling someone about the situation, and those are the times that he swears he can see Anti out of the corner of his eye. But he’s never there when Dr. Iplier whips around to look. The lights in the clinic flicker. He hears echoes of Anti’s laughter when he listens to music. The lightbulb in his bedside lamp blows out completely. Through it all, the static buzzes quietly, insidious, barely on the edge of Dr. Iplier’s awareness. As the days pass, he thinks he might lose his mind before he has the chance to give the potion to Dark.

Even more maddening is the fact that no one notices anything. Dr. Iplier is too paranoid to give anything away, but he fears that even his paranoia is obvious and visible. But he’s well-practiced in hiding emotion, in hiding discomfort, sadness, fear. He does as much for his patients all the time to keep them calm. He can make his expression neutrally pleasant, he can will his voice not to shake. It’s not fun or effortless, but it’s doable. Dr. Iplier finds himself doing it all the time, every time he interacts with another person. He starts to feel detached, dull, fake. He hopes for someone to notice at the same time he fears any questions.

Not even The Host, as powerful and omniscient as his narration is, has spotted a thing. But Dr. Iplier knows why: Host trusts him. Host isn’t above using his narration to uncover a lie, but he doesn’t believe Dr. Iplier would lie to him. He never even seems to consider narrating Dr. Iplier’s current thoughts or state of mind. The moment he does, he’ll know everything, but he just…doesn’t. He doesn’t feel the need to. Dr. Iplier feels sick, like he’s betraying his love’s trust every time they interact. Before Dr. Iplier met with Anti he could at least gain comfort from Host’s presence. Now, being around Host only makes him feel guilty and even more anxious, even more paranoid.

Dr. Iplier barely eats, barely sleeps. He drinks more coffee, hoping the buzz of caffeine will drown out the static. Everyone sees his erratic behavior as fear, as worry for Yandere, and that’s still partly true. For every moment Dr. Iplier spends worrying about being caught, about incurring Anti’s wrath, he spends five hoping that Yandere is still okay, hoping he isn’t too horribly hurt, hoping that Anti hasn’t lost patience and killed him already. Dr. Iplier becomes cagey, avoidant, perpetually unsettled. He spends long nights in Host’s arms and tries to quiet his thoughts, tries to resist the impulse to pull away. No one sees a thing. No one suspects. No one questions.

Just when Dr. Iplier thinks he’s finally going to lose his mind after two long weeks of static and paranoia and crushing, guilty fear, Dark ends up in the clinic.

Dark and Wilford had, by some miracle, managed to track down Infelix and question him. The already erratic figment hadn’t taken kindly to being accused, and he’d surprised Dark by attacking, shooting his characteristic blue flame out of his hands and into Dark’s chest. Wilford subdued Infelix and left with Dark, but Dark was already badly hurt.

Dr. Iplier spends a few hours operating on him, cutting burnt tissue and stitching the gaps left behind. When it’s over, he assures Wilford that Dark will be fine. At first, Wilford is unwilling to leave. Normally he’d only be mildly worried and accept giving Dark space to recover, but Yandere’s long disappearance has made him jumpy and easily upset. Dr. Iplier can’t help but relate. He finally gets Wilford to leave by insisting that allowing Dark visitors could open him up to infection (which, despite the existing circumstances, is true; his burns are severe and infection is a huge risk…not that it matters now).

Then, Dr. Iplier is alone, with Dark sleeping off anesthesia a few rooms over. He expects no visitors for at least an hour, when the Host will be coming in for his weekly bandage change. The whole floor is nearly empty. The only people there right now other than Dr. Iplier are the Googles, who have no doubt plugged themselves into security feeds from across LA, preventing them from hearing or seeing anything else.

This is the moment Anti’s been waiting for.

This is Dr. Iplier’s chance.

But…

He finds himself standing at Dark’s bedside, watching as he sleeps. He’s hooked up to a heart monitor (Dr. Iplier did it out of reflex before the surgery), but of course the line is still. Dark’s heart hasn’t once beat for as long as Dr. Iplier’s known him. His chest is motionless, breathless as usual, but covered in gauze. His face managed to avoid Infelix’s flame, and Dr. Iplier can’t help but notice how unhealthy he looks. A bit silly to observe: Dark never looks healthy, he looks like the walking corpse he is. But the bags under his eyes seem twice as deep, his gray skin is a shade lighter, his normally well-trimmed facial hair is getting overgrown. He’s wearing his anxiety, his fear, his longing for Yandere as clearly as they all are, as clearly as Wilford is, as clearly as Dr. Iplier is.

Dr. Iplier takes that godforsaken vial out of his lab coat pocket. It’s as warm as it was when Anti first gave it to him, still purple, still swirling red and blue.

“I can’t do this,” he gasps, barely audible, “It’ll hurt him, it could kill him, I…”

The static rises in his ears.

The heart monitor glitches, pixels striping across the screen.

Anti’s here. Anti’s watching.

If you hesitate or change your mind, I’ll kill Yandere. But first I’ll sneak back into Ego Inc., take the potion from you, and give it to Dark myself.

Dr. Iplier has run out of time to think, to deliberate, to decide. He has to act now.

He leaves Dark to go to the same cabinet he opened two weeks ago, the same cabinet Anti stole sedatives from. He finds a syringe that looks big enough to fit the entire vial, and a still-wrapped needle. His movements are mechanical as he uncaps the vial, puts the mouth of the syringe inside, and pulls the plunger, filling the syringe with the strange liquid. Not a single drop clings to the vial, it all sucks up into the syringe cleanly, leaving a perfectly empty vial. As if Dr. Iplier needed further reminder of how unnatural the liquid is. He attaches the needle to the syringe and takes it back to Dark’s room.

The static builds as Dr. Iplier approaches Dark again. It’s not intentionally threatening this time, but excited, anticipatory as Dr. Iplier holds the syringe above Dark, who remains asleep.

Dr. Iplier gives it one last moment, one last chance for Dark to wake earlier than expected, for someone to walk into the clinic suddenly.

Nothing happens, except for the heart monitor glitching again.

Dr. Iplier sighs shakily.

“This is for Yandere,” he tells himself as he leans down to Dark’s arm, “This is to save my son. I have to do it. I promised to protect him. I said I’d bring him home. I have no choice. The others could’ve noticed. They could’ve stopped me. But they…

They just watched.”

He swears he can hear Anti laughing at him.

He finds a vein, holds the needle to it.

It’s now or never.

He takes a deep breath and depresses the plunger, sending the potion through the needle and into Dark’s arm over several long moments. The potion doesn’t react immediately; it doesn’t stay visible under the skin or eat it away or burn. It merely behaves like any other injection as it disappears into Dark’s arm. Finally, the entire potion is inside Dark, not a single drop stuck within the syringe.

Dr. Iplier pulls away from Dark’s arm and waits with shaking hands.

For several seconds, nothing happens. Dark continues to sleep. Dr. Iplier hardly dares to breathe. Even the static is quiet. It’s like the whole world has gone silent, waiting to see what the potion does.

And then, suddenly, it does.

Dark’s aura rears up and flails around him as Dark’s back arches off the bed and he howls. Dr. Iplier jumps back as the veins in Dark’s arm turn purple, color traveling up his arm to his chest, down his torso and legs and up his neck, spreading like wildfire. Dark screams again, agonized and suffering, and falls out of bed in his effort to escape the pain, hitting the ground hard. He hardly seems to notice, curling in on himself and clutching his arm, crying out in pain. His aura waves wildly, knocking things off nearby shelves and pushing over the heart monitor, letting it hit the ground with a crash. The aura flashes, snaps, adds its own howl to Dark’s screams, echoing so harshly that Dr. Iplier’s ears start to ring. He rushes to Dark without thinking, reaching out to pull him from the floor. Dark’s head snaps up, and three shadows of himself react the same, each half a second apart. Dr. Iplier’s breath catches in his throat. Dark’s eyes dart to Dr. Iplier’s hand.

He realizes he never let go of the syringe.

Dark forces himself to his feet, and Dr. Iplier scrambles backwards, hyperventilating. Dark staggers forward, still holding his arm, now so purple-black with magic that his skin can barely be seen. A shadow of himself screams, and his aura whips, snaps around to Dark, and the scream ends by coming out of Dark’s throat. His form starts to wobble, wavering in the air like heat off a grill as Dr. Iplier looks on in horror.

“W̶̮̹̓ḧ̸͍͍́̄a̵̦̙̾̉t̴̛̘͔ ̸̤͑̂h̷̛͍͜͠à̴̳̘̽v̶̻̳͗͛e̸̥̯͝ ̸̞͌̚y̴̹̯͑̽o̵̟͍͂ů̶͎ ̸̧̨͒d̶͖̞̎o̴̘͕͝n̸̫̝͠e̷̢͌̀?̴̳̀” Dark roars over the rushing wind, the cracking, the howling.

“I…” Dr. Iplier gasps. The syringe hits the floor with a tap. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

Dark’s head snaps back without his control, crunching loudly as he screams. Louder still are the screams from around him, from inside him. Mirages and shadows scratch at his arm, pull at his own hair, curl up and sob with agony. The purple of the potion branches off into his neck, his face. His eyes are pitch. His form starts to blur as blue and red lights appear, pulling themselves apart as his aura shivers and stretches.

Finally, with one last crackling wail, an explosion of light and dark encompasses Dark, bright and void together like the death of a star. Dr. Iplier is forced to shield his eyes as the force of the explosion pushes him back against the wall. A layered moan resounds in the air as the lightshow ends and the cacophony quiets.

Dr. Iplier uncovers his eyes to see three people standing where Dark used to be.

The one in the middle crumbles into ash before Dr. Iplier can get a good look at them. The other two collapse where they stand, hitting the ground unconscious. There’s a man, bearded and scruffy, and a woman, dark hair in a bun and harsh bags under her eyes. Both are dressed for the cold outdoors. They look similar, like siblings.

Meanwhile, Dark’s aura, smoky and black and radiating power, spirits around the room like a vengeful ghost, echoing and screeching, searching for a host.

“Oh god,” Dr. Iplier breathes.

An electric, crackly pop sounds from behind Dr. Iplier, and he turns to see Anti standing there, one arm around a static-eyed Yandere, and one arm clutched around his own gut as he laughs, manic and gleeful.

“Great work, Doc!” Anti cackles, “I really thought you were gonna chicken out, but you did it! And it couldn’t have worked any better.”

“Dark’s dead,” Dr. Iplier gasps.

“Yep,” Anti chirps, grinning. “You’re the one who killed him.”

Dark’s aura descends from the ceiling to examine Yandere and Anti. It passes over Yandere immediately but gravitates towards Anti, curious and much quieter than it was a moment ago. Anti lifts a hand to it, and it winds around his fingers. It starts to whisper something that Dr. Iplier can’t understand from his distance, but Anti can, and he grins.

“I think it likes me,” he laughs. He walks past Dr. Iplier into the room, whistling at the mess. Yandere mindlessly follows. Anti tilts his head as he looks at the two people curled up on the floor. “Wow, guess Dark really was two siblings in a trench coat like the fans keep saying, huh?”

“We had a deal,” Dr. Iplier says, trying not to sound so shaken. “You said if I did this then you’d–”

“I know, I know, I’d give up Yandere,” Anti sighs, as though he’s dealing with a petulant child. He looks over at Yandere, who’s still staring at Anti with wide, static-filled eyes. Anti doesn’t even speak, just snaps his fingers.

Yandere blinks. His eyes clear of static. Then they roll back into his head and he collapses. Dr. Iplier lets out a wordless shout as he scrambles to catch him, barely managing to keep him from a hard landing.

“Yan, sweetheart,” he says, voice shaking, putting his fingers to his neck for a pulse.

“Don’t be so dramatic, he’s fine,” Anti says. The aura is surrounding him more fully now, wrapping itself around his arms, legs, torso, whispering through his hair. “He’s been mind-controlled for a month, he’s gotta sleep it off. He’ll remember most of it, but not my conversations with you.”

At the very least, Anti’s telling the truth about Yandere’s condition. His pulse is normal, his breathing is fine. Despite that, Yandere looks even worse than he did two weeks ago. The bags under his eyes are deep and dark, his cheeks are gaunt, his hair is limp and dirty. His face is bruised, his lip is split, there’s blood crusting his nostrils. His neck is bruised all over, yellow faded bruises overlapping awful red and purple ones. His arms are lined with cuts. There’s old, dried blood on his clothes, and Dr. Iplier thinks that, for once, it’s Yandere’s own.

But he’s alive. He’s alive, and he’s free, and he’s back in Dr. Iplier’s arms, for good this time.

“Well,” Anti says, “Thanks for the help. I’d say I owe you one, but nah.” He pauses. “Actually, I’ve got an idea.”

“What?” Dr. Iplier lifts his head from Yandere.

“You don’t have to keep all this a secret anymore.” Anti grins. “You can tell everybody what happened and what you did if you want. It doesn’t matter to me anymore, since I have what I want.”

“W-Won’t they find out either way?”

“Nope, I glitched out the cameras in here before you injected Dark, to make sure no one could see and stop you. No one’ll know your part in this unless you tell them.” Anti peers down at Dr. Iplier with a cruel glint in his eye. “The question is, will you admit to what you’ve done, or will you hide the truth like a coward?”

Dr. Iplier’s jaw drops. The enormity of what he’s done crashes down on him.

“I had to,” he gasps, unsure of who he’s talking to. “I had to do it, I had no choice, I–”

“Save it for people who care,” Anti says. The aura (no, Anti’s aura now, isn’t it?) engulfs Anti like a cloak over his body. “Well, I’m done here, but I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon.” He grins like a devil. “Bye for now, Doc.”

With that, Anti vanishes in a crackle of static, and Dr. Iplier is left alone. Alone, with Yandere unconscious in his arms and Damien and Celine unconscious on the floor.

He should get up. He needs to get them all into hospital beds, check their conditions, treat those who need it. But he can’t bring himself to get up from where he kneels on the floor, Yandere in his lap. Dr. Iplier is shaking, wide-eyed, trying to process everything that happened in the last five minutes. Trying to fathom how much has changed.

He hasn’t been sitting there very long when he hears the clinic door burst open, followed by running footsteps that stop short when they get close.

“What happened?” asks The Host.

“You’re early,” Dr. Iplier says, barely a breath. It’s the first thing that comes to his mind to say. He manages to turn his head over his shoulder to look at Host, at his expression of nonspecific concern.

“I knew something was wrong,” Host answers, “I could sense that something terrible was going to happen. What’s going on?”

“This is your chance, tell him the truth!” Dr. Iplier’s mind screams at him. “Tell him what happened, tell him about Yandere, the deal, what happened to Dark. He has to know so he and the others can start fixing this. He has to know because you love him and you can’t betray his trust! Tell him! Tell him everything!!”

But Dr. Iplier has no words. He can barely speak at all. He is a coward.

“I don’t know,” he gasps, nearly sobbing.

The Host starts to narrate, soft and under his breath. He’s close enough for Dr. Iplier to hear, and for Dr. Iplier to see his face change as his narration unveils what lays before him. He narrates Dr. Iplier, crouched on the ground holding a bruised and bloody Yandere. He narrates Damien and Celine laying on the floor, narrates the little pile of ash between them. He narrates the mess of the room, the overturned monitor and broken shelves, the static still clinging to the air. But through it all, he does not reach into Dr. Iplier’s mind. He does not probe into what Dr. Iplier is thinking, he does not narrate what Dr. Iplier saw. His narrations go no deeper than Dr. Iplier’s presence on the ground, the look on his face. The Host suspects nothing.

“It must have been Anti,” Host says, voice tight to match the shock and anger warring in his expression. “His static is lingering here. But my narrations won’t tell me what he did. Only that Dark…” He breathes in. “That Dark has been destroyed, and Yandere has been returned. My love, are you sure you don’t know anything?”

It’s not out of suspicion that Host asks this, only desperation. He’s not used to not knowing.

“I don’t know,” Dr. Iplier repeats, over the aching of his own heart. “I don’t know.”

#markiplier #markiplier fanfiction #dr. iplier #antisepticeye #darkiplier #fanfic #my writing #kristin says stuff #unravel #big oofs all around fellas

4 notes · View notes