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#so far i have three different chapters where i could comfortably end it and like.......... idk ijdk
hailsatanacab · 2 years
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Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Danny Phantom, Batman - All Media Types Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Danny Fenton & Damian Wayne, Batfamily Members & Danny Fenton Characters: Danny Fenton, Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth Additional Tags: Good Sibling Damian Wayne, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Danny Fenton and Damian Wayne are Twins, Danny Fenton Needs A Hug, Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Not Phantom Planet Compliant (Danny Phantom), Bad Parents Jack and Maddie Fenton, Gun Violence, Blood and Violence, Gunshot Wounds, Mugging, Medical Torture, Vivisection Summary:
“If you ever find yourself in danger, go to Bruce Wayne. He will help you.”
His mother had loved him, in her own way. If she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have helped him escape. If she hadn’t, she would have dragged him back to the League of Assassins, to Grandfather. If she hadn’t, he’d be dead.
She loved him, but she loved the League more.
Jack and Maddie Fenton loved him too, they did, but they loved their work more.
They loved their work more.
--
After his parents react poorly to his reveal, Danny escapes to the only person he thinks can help him - Bruce Wayne. He doesn't know what to expect when he gets there, but it has to be better than where he is, surely? He certainly doesn't expect to be reunited with his long lost twin brother Damian. It's funny how things work out that way.
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Chapter 3!! Chapter 3!! Chapter 3!!
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strangersmunsons · 11 months
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alien life form
you spend the night at Eddie's for the first time.
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Contains: Eddie x Reader, shy!fem!reader, first relationship, Eddie is a sweetheart with the inexperienced girlies because I said so, pizza, movies, cuddling, ALF. No mention of reader's physical appearance, no use of y/n. Warnings: None! Word Count: 1,400-ish I started writing this because I've not seen like anyone talk about the ALF costume in the Munson trailer, can we please talk about the ALF costume? I need to talk about the ALF costume. this is my first fanfiction in like 10 years that's how badly i needed to address this
You and Eddie haven't been together very long. Officially, that is.
In truth, he'd been yours from the moment he saw you. But it had taken some time to work up the courage to actually say hello to you, and then, well, some more time to ask you if you wanted to study together for the class you shared, and then just a little bit more time to ask you, bashfully, if you wanted to get dinner with him at Benny's.
"Like...as a date? If you want to, I mean. If not that's totally fine, I underst-"
You'd cut him off with an equally shy, but emphatic, yes.
Eddie was sweet, and silly, and you grew to hate being apart from him. You suspected he felt the same.
You walked side by side through the halls at school, your knuckles brushing against his, both of you hoping that the other would be brave enough to finally take hold. You spent nights huddled around your kitchen table, patiently guiding him through chapters of his biology textbook. There were arcade dates where he kicked your ass at Pac-Man and you kicked his ass at Centipede. You met him for milkshakes at Benny's after Hellfire...and there was that one rollerskating venture that left his elbows and knees black and blue for a week. (You have not been back to the roller rink since.)
But tonight you were entering uncharted territory.
You told your parents that you were having a girls night at the Wheelers' house. As far as they knew, you were ordering takeout and watching Sixteen Candles with Nancy and Robin. But when you arrived at the school parking lot that morning, it had been Eddie's van that you tossed your overnight bag into.
He'd greeted and kissed you enthusiastically, cheerful at the prospect of getting to spend an entire night with you uninterrupted. Wayne wouldn't be home from work til next morning and your parents were none the wiser. No curfew to be home by, no keep-that-door-open-three-inches-please-young-lady, just you. All to himself.
You, on the other hand, were nervous. You'd never dated anyone before, and you wanted to take things slow. You trusted Eddie to respect your boundaries, but a small part of you couldn't help but worry. What if he was expecting something of you that you weren't ready to give him?
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When school ended that afternoon, he opened the passenger door of his van for you to climb in. "Change your mind yet?" he teased.
You flushed a little, but you were determined not to let your hesitation show. "Nope!"
He seated himself and began the drive to Forest Hills, throwing glances your way the whole time. You were quieter than usual. When you slowed to a stop in front of the Munson trailer, he turned to you.
"Hey," he said gently, "it's okay." He reached over and placed a calloused hand on your knee. "I can tell that you're nervous, but you don't have to be. I'm not gonna pressure you into anything. I'm just really excited to spend time with you." He cringed inwardly. Be cool, Munson. "I mean, without having Wayne or your dad breathing down my neck, y'know?" No need to mention that the thought of merely sleeping next to you was making him weak at the knees.
Your lips curved upwards in a smile. He wondered if you could see right through him.
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Of course, Eddie stayed true to his word.
Amusingly, the evening he had planned wasn't all that different from many of your actual girls' nights. You'd talked and laughed about anything and everything. You'd changed into comfortable clothes. There was pizza and a movie, except you'd watched The Shining instead of the latest John Hughes flick, and you'd watched it while bundled up in your favorite boy's arms.
Eddie was very warm, and his skin smelled like soap, laced with a bite of cheap cologne. An air of tobacco still clung faintly to his worn Hellfire shirt, even though he'd promised himself he wouldn't smoke any cigarettes before seeing you tonight, and he hadn't. And he was very proud of himself for that, thank you very much.
You were cuddled up together on Wayne's little couch. He kept his arms wrapped around your middle and rested his chin on your shoulder, cheek pressed against yours. Every so often he would turn his head to give you soft kisses, to hide his face in your hair, to breathe you in, content like he's never, ever been before.
You wondered at your earlier fear. His adoration was tangible. As you settled back against him, you felt that yours must be too.
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As Jack Nicholson wandered through a snowy maze on the television screen, you started to drift off. Eddie lovingly stroked your hair while your eyelids grew heavier and heavier. When the credits started to roll, he roused you as gently as he could, and lead you to the bathroom to wash up. He all but carried you to his bed.
Which is how you ended up here.
Eddie's asleep and he's sleeping heavily - deep, REM sleep, with his cheek mashed into the pillow and a thin stream of saliva creeping out of his mouth. Even like this, he looks precious. You can't even be mad at him for letting out the guttural snore that just yanked you from your own slumber. Aren't you only supposed to snore like that when you're on your back?
You glance blearily around the room from underneath his arm. You're taking in the posters on the walls, the piled-up trinkets, his beloved guitar ("I used to call her Sweetheart, but not anymore. Since I'm a one-woman man an' all," he'd said, flashing you a cheesy grin). You're taking in all these little pieces of Eddie scattered around the room, when your eyes wander to his closet, and your heart nearly stops.
Maybe it's nothing, maybe it's your tired brain swirling the shadows around the room into shapes that aren't there, but you're almost positive someone is standing in Eddie's closet. A misshapen, vaguely human figure pushed up against his clothing, right next to the ratty Metallica and Megadeth t-shirts.
There's a beat of silence, and then -
"Eddie!" it comes out in a dry whisper, and you struggle to turn under the the combined weight of him and the blanket. You wrench your arm free to poke him frantically in the cheek with your finger, startling him awake.
"Huh?" His voice is groggy. "S'mthing wrong, sweetheart? What's the matter?" He forces himself to sit up and squints, peering down at you in concern. He cups your face in his hand. "Bad dream?"
"There's something - I mean, I think - there's somebody, s-something in your closet! W-what is that?" You stumble through the sentence, too frightened to be embarrassed.
Eddie turns his head to where you're pointing, unsure. He drags himself away from you and walks to his closet, fumbling blindly for the little chain, while you clutch at the blanket and cower from the safety of his bed.
When the light switches on, he lets out a loud laugh - the only kind of laugh Eddie has. He turns back to you, grinning now, and gestures to the object in question with a little flourish of his arms. "This what you were looking at?"
In the dim light, you can see that it's a costume. A fuzzy, zip-up body suit with a shapeless sort of mask hanging limply over the front. You flood with relief, feeling silly.
You sit up in bed, eyeing the brown fur at the top. "Is that supposed to be a lion?"
"No!" He almost sounds offended. "It's ALF," he says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.
You look at him dumbly. "ALF? Like from the TV show, ALF?"
"Of course. It's my Halloween costume."
"...why?"
"I like him. He's funny."
You gawp at him, and he looks right back at you. His eyes are red and puffy, his hair's a total mess, but he's smiling lightly and sweetly as ever.
A few seconds go by and you can't help it. A burst of giggles escape from behind your pursed lips.
Eddie cocks his head to the side, and places a hand on his hip, his expression that of mock-outrage.
"Now, just why is that so funny?"
You continue to laugh, positively overwhelmed with affection for him. It occurs to you that maybe you don't want to take things as slowly with Eddie as you previously thought...
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thefallennightmare · 2 months
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One Night: Noah's POV-four[END]
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*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*
Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader
Warnings: lots of smut(mask play, spit play, bondage, anal, fingering, oral(m/f receiving), choking, unprotected sex), swearing, angst, fluff.
Summary: Noah's POV of his one night with Reader.
Authors Note: OMG IM CRYING! I cannot believe this is the end to the very first Noah fic I wrote! I know it's supposed to be in Noah's POV but I had to throw in the readers pov a few times.
THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO READ/COMMENTED. MEANS SO MUCH.
NOW ENJOY THIS CHAPTER FILLED WITH STRAIGHT FLUFFY FILTH.
Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @sammyjoeee @shilohrosechicken @malice-ov-mercy @thebadchic @niicoleleigh @lma1986 @dsireland86 @bellaboo967 @cookiesupplier @whenthesummerdies @bngurngheart @laurpartyprogram @thisbicc @lyinginbetween @princessmarshmallowx @loeytuan98 @cncohshit @lacktoesandtoddlerants @notingridslurkaccount @calleyx13 @jessiskyee @mrscevans @spicywhenspeaking @myownthoughts12
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NOAH
Turning over in my bunk with a sigh, I reached for the warm body that usually would be there but touched cold, empty space. I raised my head from the pillow, half-lidded eyes searching for her then looked at the time on my phone. 
2:32 a.m. 
Running my hand over my tired face, I rolled out of my bunk with a groan as my long limbs stretched. Almost three weeks into the tour my body was screaming at me to sleep in an actual bed rather than the small bunk that before would barely fit me. However, with Y/N on the road with me, it was a tight squeeze for both of us. The first night, she offered to sleep in her own bunk so I could have as much space as I could but immediately I declined. I wanted her to be as close to me as possible. While none of us said it, both of us were worried about what would happen to our relationship when this tour ended. Although we both agreed to work on it even though we lived in different states; we would put in the same amount of effort. 
Craning my neck to the side, bones popping, I walked to the front area of the bus, knowing exactly where she was and what she was doing. Y/N sat on one of the couches with her legs crossed, laptop perched in her lap. The lights were off, only a blue light emanating from her screen illuminated her face; glasses resting on her nose. She wore my yellow hoodie, her drowning in it as the skin of her legs peaked through the bottom of it. I hummed to myself at the sight, enjoying how she looked. This was the first time in weeks that I saw her wearing glasses. 
“Angel,” I muttered quietly while rubbing my bare chest. “Do you know what time it is?” 
She glanced up at me with a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry. I know I said I was coming to bed like three hours ago but I got a surge of inspiration. I only meant to write for a little bit but before I knew it, I finished two chapters.” 
I fell onto the couch next to her and left a soft kiss on the side of her head. “How’s the book coming?” 
“If I’m being honest, I didn’t expect it to be so easy to write a novel while traveling. I thought with all the excitement of tour life, I wouldn’t be able to find time to write but it's been the opposite of that.” 
I hummed. “Well, it helps that you’re writing about our night together.” 
Y/N shifted next to me. “Does that bother you?” 
I raised a brow at her. “Why would it?”
“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I only want to make sure you’re comfortable with it. I didn’t use our names and I created two different characters. But everything else is the same as what happened that night. I mean, the guy is a rockstar and kind of resembles you. Maybe I should scrap the idea.” 
Y/N was rambling on and I knew what this was; she was beginning to doubt her novel, something she did a few times now while with me. 
“Hey.” I lifted her chin so I could force her to look at me. “Stop doubting yourself, alright? I’ve read what you have so far and it’s amazing, angel. I don’t care that you’re using something that happened between us. It inspired you to write a book, use that. Create a world from that one night.” 
She bit her bottom lip and I internally groaned at the sight of her; glasses and wearing my sweater. Truly in this darkness of the bus as it moved along to our next destination, Y/N looked like an angel. 
“Thank you for supporting me, Noah. I know we haven’t been together long but your support means a lot to me.” 
I left a chaste kiss on her lips and then on her nose. “I’ll always support you. Even if you start writing fanfiction about me.” 
“You know,” she started while going back to typing away on her laptop. “It’s kind of cool that it doesn't bother you that people write about you.” 
I shrugged. “It was weird seeing it at first but I realized it helps people escape the reality world for a bit to create this entire universe, all because of our band. It’s pretty special if you think about it.” 
We sat in silence for a little while as I lounged next to her, watching her fingers type furiously against the keys of her laptop. My gaze flicked upwards at her face, drinking in the sight of her and my heart pounded hard against my chest. I was afraid she could hear it. 
“You’re staring,” she muttered with a smile, not taking her eyes off the screen. 
“I didn’t know you wore glasses.” 
“Oh, these old things,” Y/N adjusted them on her nose. “I don’t usually but I think I’ve been staring at my screen too much because my eyes have been feeling a bit strained.”
“You look cute,” I mused while resting my head against her shoulder and peering down at her laptop again, stifling a yawn behind my hand. 
Y/N brushed her lips over my forehead. “You should go back to sleep, Noah. It was a long night and you’ve got a big day later.” 
Our show tonight was filled with problem after problem it seemed. My voice wasn’t up to par, even though everyone reassured me I sounded fine. Our tech wasn’t working which made things incredibly hard for Matt. Then not to mention the constant fights happening in the crowd tonight. We were all so upset that we ended up skipping two songs tonight only because having to stop the show a few different times for the tech issues and fights, the time we were allowed to play was stretched thin. 
Later today, we were taking a break from our normal tour schedule to play a festival in Missouri. But before that, I had two solo interviews and one with the guys lined up before our set. 
“Only if you come with me,” I poked Y/N’s side before looking up at her through my lashes.
“Alright,” she sighed with a playful roll of her eyes. 
As she began clicking out of her tabs, one immediately caught my attention and I placed my hand over hers to stop her. 
“Inspiration, huh?” I smirked and pointed to the picture on the screen. 
Her cheeks flushed red and Y/N pursed her lips. “Can you blame me? You look fucking hot in that mask.” 
On her screen was a picture of me sporting a Bad Omens sweater and a yellow mask. 
A low noise rumbled in my throat as I gripped her chin, forcing her to look at me. Her bright eyes shined in the darkness and my heart stopped in my chest. 
“Do you want me to wear the yellow one, angel?” 
Y/N swallowed thickly before slowly nodding. “Please.”
My cock twitched in my joggers at hearing her beg. We had a quick fuck in the bathroom of the green room before the show but it wasn't enough. I wanted to be able to taste her on my lips later today. 
I peered over her shoulder to the front of the bus, noticing the door that led to where Jake, our driver, was shut. Then I looked over my own shoulder to see if anyone was up, moving around in the back. 
All clear. 
I then took her laptop from her, setting it on the kitchenette table behind me, and motioned for her to lie back. 
“Noah,” Y/N’s brows furrowed as she shook her head. “What if someone hears us?” 
I gently pushed her to lie down on the couch. “Then you’ll have to be quiet, angel.” 
Adjusting myself so I was kneeling on the couch in front of her, I slid my fingers underneath the bottom of her sweater; my sweater. When I continued to touch her skin and not the fabric of her shorts, I raised a brow. 
“Were you sitting out here in nothing but my sweater, Y/N?” My voice was low. 
She grinned. “I have panties on.”
I hooked fingers in the waistband of said panties and slowly slid them down her legs until they hung around her ankle. I spread her wider for me, mouth salivating at the sight of her slickness, with one leg up against the back of the couch and the other foot perched on the floor. 
“Noah,” she whined while arching her back. 
My tongue rolled over my bottom lip. “Can you be quiet for me, angel?” 
Y/N quickly nodded before going to take off her sweater. 
“No,” I held her hand. “Leave my sweater on. You look heavenly in yellow.” 
With a flick of my tongue, I licked up her arousal with a hum of delight. She always tasted so fucking good. Y/N had her own specific taste and scent, and it drove me absolutely mad. My teeth grazed over her sensitive clit and the noises that fell from her lips made my cock throb. 
Her nails raked through my hair, scraping along my scalp, and I shivered under her touch. I sucked hard on her clit, earning a loud moan from Y/N, so I smacked the inside of her thigh. 
“Shit, Noah,” she hissed in pleasure when I slipped one finger between her folds. 
I pumped in and out of her in fast strokes as my tongue flicked over his clit, then added another finger, spearing the two inside of her. 
“Fuck!” Y/N panted as she gripped my hair tighter. “Shit. ‘M so close.” 
“Cum for me, angel,” I ordered, removing my lips from her only for a second then went back to tasting her arousal. 
Her body shook underneath me as she screamed out her release and I reached up, smacking a hand over her mouth. Her cries were now muffled as I licked her through the aftershocks. 
“Good girl,” I praised while leaving a gentle kiss on the inside of her thigh. 
I helped Y/N to a sitting position and wrapped my hand around the back of her head, pulling her into a heated kiss. She moaned as she tasted herself on my tongue and folded into me, hands resting on my chest. 
“I’m so sleepy now,” Y/N sighed while adjusting the glasses on her nose. 
“Let's go to sleep, angel.” I reached for his discarded panties and pocketed them. 
“Hey!” 
She tried to reach for them but I threw her over my shoulder as I stood to my feet. Thankfully her sweater covered her bare ass as I began walking back toward our bunk. 
“You don’t need them,” I said. 
“Noah,” she giggled. “I can’t sleep without underwear.” 
Gently, I tossed her into our bunk and looked around at the others, making sure her cries of pleasure hadn’t woken anyone up. 
“I need to make sure I have all of you when I wake up,” I winked while crawling into bed with her, pulling the curtain closed tight.
“Such a perv,” Y/N joked while smacking my chest. 
I wrapped her into my embrace by lifting her leg over my hips as she rested her head against my chest. We lay there for a little while, just basking in the solace that we created ourselves. 
“Noah,” Y/N spoke quietly while running a finger over the tattoos on my chest. 
I hummed, enjoying the way she felt against me. 
“Do you honestly think my novel is good enough?” 
I shifted us a bit so I could gaze down at her with a frown pulling at my lips. However, Y/N refused to look at me. 
“Y/N, why are you doubting yourself?” I questioned. 
She was quiet for a long moment, simply dragging a finger over the tattoos on my stomach now. 
“It’s my first one. I’ve written a few things online for years but this is an actual story that's going to be published for people to buy. What if it fails?” She finished with a shaky breath. 
I rolled us over so I was peering down at her while she was on her back. Y/N’s usual bright eyes were dulled and I took off her glasses, safely setting them in the far corner of the bunk. 
“Why do you think it will fail?” I asked. 
When she tried to look away, I cupped her cheek so she couldn’t. “Don’t hide from me, angel.” 
“I-shit-,” her bottom lip quivered. “Writing is all I have, ya know? If this book fails, I don't know what I’m going to do.”
I left a soft kiss on her nose. “There’s going to be negativity with it, there's no way around that. But from what I’ve personally dealt with, you need to focus on all the positives. I don’t want to see you get in your own head, angel.” 
She nodded in my grasp. “I’m my own biggest critic. Now that I’m so close to finishing it, doubt is settling in about if it’ll be good enough. What if no publishing company wants to pick it up?” 
I brushed some hair out of her face and propped myself up on my other elbow. 
“Have you thought about self-publishing?” I suggested. 
Y/N scoffed. “I looked into it and the cheapest route is almost a grand. I don’t have that amount of money to invest in something that might fail. The cost of living in Las Vegas is killing me to begin with, I can’t put all my savings into something that might fail.” 
My lips parted to speak but she quickly pressed a finger over them, hushing me. “No, don’t. I do not need your money for this, Noah. I cannot ask you for that.”
I kissed her finger before removing it from my mouth. “I just want to take care of you, Y/N.” 
She grabbed my hand and left a kiss on the inside of my palm. “I know. But I can’t ask that from you. I’ll figure it out.” 
“Well,” I tapped her nose. “Writing isn't the only thing you have. You have me and I’m not going anywhere.” 
Y/N grinned up at me. “Good because I’m not letting you go.” 
I dipped low to leave a kiss on her lips, letting my tongue slip inside to taste every inch of her mouth. Faintly I could still taste her arousal on her tongue and I groaned, rutting my hips into her. 
Y/N’s nails left red marks down my chest and stomach then she reached for my joggers, pulling at them. 
“What do you want, angel?” I asked breathless from the kiss. 
Her bottom lip jutted out and I immediately attacked it with my teeth. 
“Fuck,” she hissed while bringing her fingers to her lips, faint crimson painting them. “I’m bleeding.” 
Our lips met again in a fiery, teeth-smacking kiss, and Y/N’s hand slipped beneath my joggers, palming my hard cock. I groaned into the kiss and ground my cock against her hand as Y/N began palming it.
“Noah,” she mewled against my lips. “I need it.” 
“Use your words,” I teased while leaving a mark in the crook of her neck. 
Y/N squeezed my cock and I hissed in pleasure as my head fell to her chest. Her hand began to pump up and down then when her thumb grazed over the head, I nearly came in her hand. 
“Angel,” I breathed against her neck. “Please don’t stop.” 
She did, only briefly to help me shimmy out of my joggers then I stripped her off her sweater, eyes turning dark when I realized she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. 
Quickly I guided her hand back to my aching cock and Y/N started pumping me fast and hard. 
“Shit. Please,” I held myself up on my elbows as I gazed down at her through half-lidded eyes. “Keep going.” 
Her eyes were locked on the space between us, almost focusing on her actions. 
“I love hearing you beg,” Y/N gazed up at me, a playful smirk on her lips. 
“Don’t.” I panted. “Stop.” 
Suddenly, she was patting my hip with her free hand. “Get on your back.” 
I groaned when she stopped. “Angel-.” 
“Get on your back, Noah. Now.” 
Something burned low in my belly hearing the demanding tone in her voice so with a hastily nod, I did what she asked and watched as she climbed on top of me. It was a tight fit with the small space of the bunk and she couldn’t sit completely upright. Instead, she leaned half of her body over me as she held my cock with one hand, the other resting over my heart. 
I internally smiled at the small gesture. 
My head fell back onto the pillow when Y/N slowly inched herself down on my cock, the tightness of her walls gripping around me harder than her hand did. 
“Fuck,” she cursed. “I didn't think this through. Not much space here.” 
I grunted, wrapping an arm around her waist to lock her into place. “We need an actual fucking bed.” 
As her hips moved, a spew of curses fell from my lips along with her name, it sounded like a prayer in the small confines of what we called our bedroom the last two weeks. It still didn’t feel real sometimes that she was here with me. Y/N chose to leave her life behind to follow me and my band across the States for a month. Not many people did that, especially for someone they barely knew. 
But we weren’t those people. Our relationship wasn’t typical, it had been different since the start. 
The last two weeks have been perfect. Y/N fit in great with everyone in our crew, she and Nicholas bonded over Britt. Same with her and Folio. Y/N and Jolly had a mutual show they watched together some nights after our shows when she wasn’t working on her novel. 
Hell, Y/N and Matt even bonded over their love for raccoons. 
Gazing up into her bright eyes, I cupped her cheek to force our gazes to lock. 
“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” 
A red hue brushed across the soft features of her face as she continued to ride me. “Hm, no. Not recently.” 
“Well,” I pulled her flush against me. “You’re fucking beautiful, angel. And mine.” 
“Yours,” she cried out when I began to fuck up into her, my cock slamming with no remorse. 
The bunk beneath us creaked, giving away to everyone on the bus what we were doing, but I didn’t care. Y/N’s head fell to my shoulder, my name muffled by my skin, and when she clenched harder around me I knew she was close. 
I yanked her head back with my free hand, the other still wrapped around her tight and exposed her face and neck to me. 
“I want to watch you fall apart on my cock,” I said through gritted teeth. 
Her tits bounced with each hard thrust and I briefly took one of her nipples in my mouth, biting and teasing it with my tongue. 
“Noah,” Y/N choked out. “‘M gonna.” 
My head snapped up so I could watch her as the coil in my stomach began to snap, a burning rush shooting through my entire body as my release washed over me without warning. 
Both of us moaned each other's names in tangent as Y/N came apart all over my cock, her arousal coating my cock and hips. She fell to my body in a heap of exhaustion and I quickly covered us with the blanket, not bothering to clean us up or get dressed. 
“Goodnight, Noah,” Y/N pressed a kiss to my cheek before snuggling closer to me. 
I grinned, heart beating wildly in my chest, and wrapped myself tighter around her. “Sweet dreams, angel.” 
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READER
“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I exclaimed while staring down at the email on my laptop. 
Dear Y/N, 
We hope this email finds you well. But we wanted to let you know that beginning in two months, we will not be renewing your lease. We appreciate your understanding in this matter.
From, 
The leasing office. 
“Everything alright?” Noah asked as he stepped out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, steam following him. 
I bit my lip at the sight of him. The towel hung loosely around his hips, his hair was slicked back, and droplets of water trailed down his warm skin still red from his shower. 
I blinked. “Sorry, did you say something?” 
He smirked. “Distracted, are we?” 
“Well, you walk out like this,” I motioned to him from head to toe. “And you expect me NOT to listen to a word you just said?” 
“If I didn’t already bend you over the bathroom sink to fuck you, I would. But I have to be at the venue soon,” Noah left a kiss on my forehead.
My cheeks burned at the memory of earlier when Noah had me bent over the bathroom counter, fucking me without an ounce of falter. He slammed me so hard into the granite counter top, I was sure I’d have bruises in the morning. Noah’s long fingers were hooked in my mouth to hold me upright and I shivered when I remembered how my body reacted during my orgasm. 
“Are you sure you don’t mind if I stay here tonight?” I asked, biting my lip as I watched him walk around the room naked. 
Shit, his ass was perfect. 
“Angel,” he sighed while stepping into a pair of black briefs. “You’ve watched every single show on this tour so far. I’m not going to be mad or upset if you miss this one.” 
I pouted. “I know but I feel terrible.” 
“You’re so close to finishing your book, Y/N. You need some quiet time to focus. Take advantage of the fact we are staying in a hotel for the next two nights. Enjoy the quiet tonight and tomorrow we can spend our last day off sightseeing,” Noah said. 
It was the start of the last week of the tour and while the fear of what would happen afterward started to weigh heavy on my shoulders, I did my best not to dwell on it because I didn’t want to ruin the time we had left. It was clear that we would continue our relationship but it wouldn’t be easy since we lived in different states. 
“I can’t believe there are only four shows left,” I noted while setting my laptop on the table in front of me. “How do you feel about it?” 
Noah fell onto the couch next to me with a breath. “It’s always bittersweet. While I love performing on stage in front of sold-out crows, I miss the comfort and solace of my house.” 
I hummed in agreement, resting my hand on the back of his neck to play with the wet strands of his hair. 
“I don’t think I’ve ever had that feeling about the place I’ve lived in,” I admitted. 
“Really?” He raised a brow. 
“I’ve tried to make my apartment feel like a home but it always feels like something was missing. But it doesn't even matter anymore.”
“Why’s that?” 
With a long sigh, I turned my laptop towards him so he could read the email, a slight frown pulling on his lips. 
“So, this means what?” Noah asked, even though I was pretty sure he already knew. 
“I have sixty days to find a new place to live,” I shrugged as if it wasn’t a huge deal. 
Although, it was. My heart sunk low to the depths of my stomach knowing that I had to spend the rest of my time on the road with Noah by looking for places to live. 
“Do you want to stay in Las Vegas?” He asked while rubbing my back. 
“I guess before I never thought of moving anywhere else but now-,” the words trailed off. 
I didn’t want to say something if Noah didn’t feel the same. 
“But what?” He urged with a gentle tone. 
“I don’t know. Maybe I should think about moving somewhere new; a fresh start,” I said after some hesitation. 
Noah hummed. “I heard Los Angeles is a great place to start fresh.” 
My head snapped up towards him, the words stumbling over my tongue. 
“Wh-what?
My heart hammered so loud in my chest that I could hear it in my ears and I began rubbing my palms on my thighs. Noah immediately picked up on my nerves and gently grabbed my hands and brought them to his chest. 
“I’m not asking you to move in with me, angel. You said it yourself though that you’re looking for a fresh start. Los Angeles has a lot of opportunities and there’s quite a few different places for rent around my area,” Noah explained. 
I chewed on my bottom lip. “Well, if I’m being honest. There’s really nothing for me in Las Vegas anymore. Britt was bouncing back and forth between there and Virgina to see Folio so I barely saw her to begin with.” 
Noah’s thumb brushed over the back of my hand, his brown eyes sparkling with so much hope. 
“It will make things easier for us,” I turned towards him. “But I don’t want to uproot my entire life if you’re not willing to work on us.” 
“Angel,” he brought my hands to his lips, leaving a vast variety of kisses. “I’m one hundred percent into this relationship. You know that I’m not going to force you into anything. But I’ve had you this close to me the last few weeks, I don’t think I can handle you living hours away from me after this.” 
Tears burned in the corners of my eyes and I blew out a shaky breath to keep them at bay. 
“Can I think about it?” I asked after a few beats of silence. 
Noah’s face fell slightly but he quickly recovered. “Of course, angel.” 
There was a knock on the door of our hotel room and after a quick kiss to my forehead, Noah tossed on a shirt before answering the door. On the other side stood Jolly with his bag slung over his shoulder. 
“Ready?” 
Noah peered over his shoulder to me, a frown on his lips. “I’ll miss you.” 
I giggled while jutting out my bottom lip. “I’ll miss you too, Pookie Bear.” 
Jolly rolled his eyes as he stepped into the room, waiting for Noah to finish packing up his things. 
“You’re not coming tonight?” He asked. 
I shook my head while motioning towards my laptop. “I have to finish up the last few things of my novel. I plan to self-publish in the next month or so.” 
“Oh, fuck. That’s great, Y/N!” Jolly smiled wide. 
“It’s a bit scary, though. I’m putting everything I have into this and if it fails, I don’t know what I’ll do,” I admitted with a sigh. 
Noah snuck up behind me on the couch and placed his hands on my shoulders. I looked up at him upside down and he bent low to leave a firm but soft kiss on my lips. 
“It won’t fail, Y/N. I’ve read it and this is my unbiased opinion. You wrote an amazing, beautiful story. People will love it,” he reassured me with a squeeze to my shoulders. 
“Thank you,” I mused while tapping his arm. 
With one final kiss, Noah sneaking his tongue past my lips, I moaned quietly into his mouth as my hand snaked behind his neck. 
“I’ll miss you,” he muttered against my lips. 
“I’ll do my best to stay awake to wait for you,” I said. 
Noah slung his back over his shoulder and winked. “I’ll wake you up if you’re asleep.” 
As he and Jolly began to walk out of the room, I called after them. 
“Jolly!” 
“Yeah?” He poked his head back into the room just before Noah shut the door. 
“Tomorrow night! Season finale. Bring the pizza, I’ll have the drinks!” I pointed a finger at him. 
With a two-finger salute, Jolly nodded with Noah pushing him out of the room. He quickly turned to look back at me. 
“See you later, angel,” Noah blew a kiss. 
“Kick ass tonight!” I returned it.
Finally, in the solace of the hotel room, I blew out a shaky breath and rested my laptop on my lap once again, ignoring the email from my leasing office. Even though I asked Noah for time to think about my final decision, I already knew what I was going to do. 
It was the truth when I said there was nothing for me left in Las Vegas and I wanted a fresh start. Although, I didn’t expect Noah to throw out the idea of moving to Los Angeles. But the thought of being close to him made my heart flutter in the best fucking way. We got so used to being around each other all day, every day the last few weeks so the thought of being separated once the tour ended on Friday didn’t sound appealing. 
With a crack of my fingers, I set to work for the next few hours focusing on my novel as I worked out the last few kinks and polishing it to perfection. By the time I felt comfortable with everything, reading it from start to finish, I couldn’t stop the large smile that spread on my face. 
“Shit, Noah was right. This is good,” I muttered to myself. 
Quickly checking the time on my phone, I noticed that it was almost time for Bad Omens to go on stage so I hastily typed out a message to Noah. 
Me: It’s finished 😁
Almost instantly, he responded. 
Noah🧜: I’m so fucking proud of you, angel. We’ll celebrate later tonight when I’m back. 
With a slight uncurl of my lips, I responded. 
Me: Would this maybe include the yellow mask? 
After a few minutes of no response, I chalked it up to Noah being pulled away to go on stage. So I spent the rest of the night tidying up the hotel room every so often checking my phone for any Bad Omens content from tonight. Even though it was sparse, I couldn’t help but feel that twinge of jealousy that I didn’t go tonight. 
It’s one night, Y/N. You have four more shows to watch before the end. 
Just before I went to lock my phone, a new text from Noah popped up. 
“Must be the break,” I muttered with a smile. 
Noah🧜: Don’t tempt me, Y/N. Because now that’s all I’m thinking about before going back out on stage.
Of course, I did want to tempt him so with a sinister smirk, I quickly stepped out of my clothes and lounged on the bed. I went through a few different positions until I found the best one and snapped a few pictures. I had an arm over my bare breasts with my bright yellow lace panties. With the picture attached, I replied to Noah. 
Me: Is this temptation enough?
Setting my phone on the bed, I got dressed once again then ordered myself some room service with a few extra things for Noah when he returned tonight. I did some more research on how to self-publish and although the doubt was still there, I couldn’t help but feel excited that soon my book would be out there for everyone to read. 
I tapped my chin and mulled over this thought for a few seconds, I decided to spend the time while I ate to look up different apartments for rent in Los Angeles.
“What the fuck,” I grumbled when I realized how expensive some of the apartments were. “There’s no way I can afford any of these.”
I shut my laptop with a bit of force and left it on the coffee table. I decided to ease away my worries and doubts by taking a long soak in the tub. Briefly checking my phone, I noticed Noah still hadn’t responded but I knew that it was the end of the show and he’d be back soon enough anyway. 
Almost thirty minutes later, I stepped out of the bathroom with the towel loosely around me only to be pushed up against the wall by a large, warm body. 
“Someone’s been naughty while I’m gone.” 
I was frozen in fear until the familiar voice breathed in my ear and immediately I relaxed in his embrace. His arms were posted on either side of my head, hands sprawled against the wall as his hips locked me in place. I drank in the sight of his tattoos and eased into his chest. 
“I missed you,” I breathed while resting my head on his shoulder. 
It was then that I noticed something yellow covering Noah’s face and I sucked in a breath. But before I could turn to look at him completely, he forced my face into the wall again. A slick warmth spread between my legs as a fire buzzed in my lower spine. 
“Meet me in the hotel pool in ten minutes,” his teeth grazed over the shell of my ear. 
“W-what?” 
Suddenly Noah’s warmth was gone followed by the door to the room shutting. I swallowed thickly while staring at the empty room. My heart felt giddy with the wonder and excitement of what Noah had planned but my stomach flipped with nerves as I quickly threw on some clothes. 
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NOAH
Thankfully the pool was empty since it was late evening so I didn’t have to worry about anyone other than Y/N walking in. I sat on the edge of the pool in my pair of black swim trunks and the yellow mask covering my face. From the second I saw that picture of Y/N, all I could think about was this moment which made it difficult to focus on finishing my set tonight. 
The door to the pool room opened and my eyes snapped away from my legs wadding in the water to drink in the sight of Y/N sheepishly walking in. My pupils dilated when I noticed she was wearing my white Death Note shirt and nothing else. 
I felt her burning gaze over every inch of me, lingering on my face, and even from our distance, I could see the breath catch in her throat. 
“What if someone walks in on us?” She asked while shifting on her feet. 
I pointed to the door behind her. “Lock it.” 
Her eyes widened. “Noah, we can't!” 
I titled my head to the side. “Angel, are you afraid?” 
“No,” Y/N scoffed with a shaky voice. “I just don’t-.” 
“Lock. The. Door.” 
I never took my eyes off of her as I watched her shuffle her feet back to the door and when the click of the lock echoed in the large space, I hooked my finger at her. 
“Get in the pool,” I demanded. 
Y/N swallowed thickly. “Uh, I didn’t wear my swimsuit.” 
My feet kept wading through the water as I bit my lip. “Are you telling me that’s all you’re wearing?” 
When she nodded, I absent-mindedly ran a hand over my chest, a hum vibrating against my palm. I had two options: I could have her strip naked and get in the pool or have her get in the pool while still wearing my shirt. 
Deciding on the second option, I jumped into the pool still wearing the mask, and swam to the other end of the pool where she stood. I reached my hand out towards her but quickly picked up on the hesitation on her face. 
“Are you alright?” I asked, my facade dropping slightly. 
“Um, if I’m being honest, I’m kind of nervous about what you have planned,” she rubbed her hands on her thighs. “I trust you, Noah. I do.” 
“Safe word?” I reminded her. 
Y/N nodded with a small hint of a smile. “I remember.” 
“Good,” I extended my hand again. “Now get your pretty ass in this pool.” 
When she went to reach for her shirt to take it off, I curly shook my head. “Leave it on.” 
The second her soft hand was in mine, I helped her walk down the stairs of the pool until the water stopped right under her breasts. I yanked her into my embrace, catching her lips in a passionate kiss. Her nails dug into my chest while mine gripped underneath the shirt, grazing over her bare ass. 
“Angel,” I groaned against her lips while pushing her against the wall of the pool, locking her in place. 
Y/N pushed me away gently so she could look into my eyes, hers darting all over my face. 
“Fuck, I thought you looked hot in the black one but something about this yellow mask is making me feral,” she nipped at the skin of my neck. 
I hissed in pleasure, shivering underneath the touch of her lips upon me. It was something I never got used to, no matter how many times she kissed me. I still couldn't explain this feeling that filled my heart and view whenever I was with her. It was so unknown that it scared me to follow it at first. It hindered me useless when she left me in the hotel room all those months ago. 
Suddenly I realized that this was the first time we were in a hotel room together since that first night together and fear sunk my heart deep. I yanked her away from me so I could force her to look into my eyes. 
“Promise you won’t leave?” I asked with a stern hold on her chin. 
“Huh?” 
I licked my lips. “I need you to promise me that you won’t walk out the door tonight unless it’s with me.” 
Y/N’s eyes darted back and forth between mine until they finally softened, her realizing why I needed her to promise me this.
“Noah,” she cupped my cheek over the mask. “I promise to never leave you like that again. I’m here with you, for you, and I’m never leaving.” 
I swallowed the burn in my throat and left a kiss on the inside of her palm. “Thank you.” 
She kissed me again and this time, I didn’t hold back. I ravaged every single inch of her with my hands and mouth, needing to taste her; to feel her. With my hands on her hips, I forced her to turn around towards the wall of the pool. 
“Hands on the edge,” I rasped. 
Doing what I said, Y/N rested her hands on the edge of the pool while I brought her ass towards me underneath the water. My cock was straining against the confines of my tight swim trunks, it almost begging to be inside of her. Ever since she sent me that picture earlier, all I could think about was the sweetness of her pussy and the way it felt when it gripped my cock. 
Once my cock was free, I pumped it a few times underwater and leaned over Y/N to whisper in her ear. 
“You think you were smart sending me that picture earlier?” 
My voice was dark and low, filled with my desire and mock disappointment.
“No,” she breathed. 
“Anyone could have seen it, angel,” I nuzzled my mask-covered face into the crook of her neck. “What if that happened?” 
One hand was wrapped tightly around my cock, poised at her entrance, while my other hand dug into the soft skin of her hip to keep her in place. 
“I’m sorry,” she whined while pressing her ass farther into me. 
Her whines went straight to my cock. 
“I’m not going to hold back, angel,” I bit down on the sweet spot of skin underneath her ear. 
“Fuck me, Noah.” 
With fucking pleasure.
The water splashed as I slammed into her, completely seething myself between her folds, and her cries echoed throughout the vast room around us. Neither of us said a word as I harshly fucked it, the only thing that you could hear was the water splashing, my heavy breathing, and her cries of pleasure. 
I wrapped my arm around her midsection to pull her closer to me, her shirt hiked up just underneath her breasts, and I felt the sweat gather on my forehead underneath the mask due to the humidity of the pool and our bodies intertwined. 
“Shit,” I cursed when her pussy clenched around me. “I need to take the mask off.” 
“No!” Y/N looked over her shoulder at me. “Please, not yet.” 
Water had splashed out from the pool onto the stone floor around us and I yanked her off of me, her whines of protest sounding like music to my ears. I spun Y/N around so she could look up at me now. 
“You want to see the mask?” 
She nodded in her blissed-out state. 
“Then eyes on me, angel,” I demanded, spearing her open with my cock yet again. 
Y/N cried out my name, almost as if she was praying to me, and I lifted her leg around my back so I could reach her at a better angle; deeper. I needed to go deeper. 
“Noah.” 
Her eyes never left mine as I fucked her senseless, her mouth falling open. My cock twitched inside her when the fire burned at the base of my spine, my orgasm so fucking close. 
“Are you close, angel?” I asked, barely hanging on as my pace became erratic and uneven. 
There was a slight frown on her face and for a second, I worried I was hurting her. 
“It’s hard for me to cum underwater,” Y/N admitted with a shy face. 
One hand rested against my chest while her other grasped at my mask, almost holding it in place. 
“It’s okay, you can cum, Noah. Cum for me, I want to watch your face underneath the mask fall apart. 
A whimper crawled out of my throat, one that made Y/N’s eyes widened and pussy clench around me one final time as my hips stilled, cock spilling my arousal into her. My forehead fell to hers as my breath came out strangled. 
“So beautiful,” Y/N mused while playing with the strands of hair that peaked out from underneath my mask. 
“Why didn’t you tell me you couldn’t cum in water,” I asked, almost breathless, now looking at her. 
She shrugged. “Trust me, Noah. It still felt good; really good. But I couldn’t even if you put a vibrator against my clit. My body just can't.” 
Ripping off the mask now, I let the cool air of the room brush across the heated skin of my face and took a deep breath. 
“Well,” I kissed her lips and tucked myself away. “Seems like we have unfinished business then.” 
Y/N raised a brow but before she could ask what I meant, I had her sitting on the edge of the pool, me following right behind her. 
“Noah-.” 
Her giggles carried around the room as I threw her wet body over my shoulder and began walking us out of the pool room. 
“My ass is hanging out!” She cried. 
I smacked it before unlocking the door. “Lucky for you, our room is only down the hall.” 
It was her turn to smack my ass. “If anyone sees us, Mr. Sebastian, I swear to Hades himself.” 
“Oh, Mr. Sebastian, huh? Am I your professor now?” I joked when we stepped in front of our door. 
When Y/N was set down on her feet, she crossed her arms over her chest, the wet strands of her hair sticking to her face. 
“Are you suggesting a new roleplay?” 
She was fucking adorable with her bottom lip caught between her teeth. If she wasn’t careful, I would have pressed her up against the door and fucked her right here in the hallway. 
“You like the idea of me dressing up as your professor? You’re my student coming to ask for extra credit?” I teased while leaning an arm against the wall above her. 
Y/N gazed up at me through her lashes and dragged a finger down my abdomen, resting at the waistband of my swim trunks. “Only if you wear those gold round glasses.” 
“Really,” I leaned away from her. “Those glasses turned you on?” 
She shrugged with chattering lips. “You look fucking adorable in glasses.” 
I patted her thigh. “Let’s get you inside and warm you up. Your lips are blue.” 
Once the door was opened, I let her walk in first, only for Y/N to halt in place with a loud gasp leaving her lips. I stood behind her with a proud smirk on her face. 
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READER
I stood in place as I took in the sight in front of me with tears gathering in my eyes. Somehow while we were in the pool, Noah had someone come and decorate our hotel room with a variety of flowers, a tray of chocolate-covered strawberries, and a bottle of sparkling grape juice on the table. 
“Wh-what is this?” I pointed while looking back at Noah. 
He was leaning his back against the shut door, a proud smile on his face. “I told you we would celebrate you finishing your book.” 
“When did you do this?” 
“Jolly came and set it up while we were in the pool,” Noah said. 
I felt my skin prick and burn. “You didn’t tell him why we were in the pool, did you?” 
“No, angel,” he snorted while pushing himself off the door and closing the distance between us. “Do you like it?” 
I wrapped my arms around his back and rested my head against the cool skin of his chest. 
“I love it, thank you.” 
Noah placed a kiss on top of my head. “Anything for you.” 
We stayed like that for a few beats until he lifted my chin with a finger and kissed me gently and slowly. The amount of passion from this simple kiss made my heart stutter in my chest and my head spin with a feeling I was so afraid of confronting. It had been lingering within me a lot the last week and I kept pushing it deeper and deeper. 
But now in Noah’s embrace, I couldn’t ignore that feeling that lit a fire in my veins and made my heart spread warmth throughout my entire existence. 
He walked me back towards the bed where the back of my knees hit before I fell onto it, Noah following close behind. His hand grazed over the chilled skin of my thigh before resting over my hip as his other hand palmed my cheek, keeping me in place. 
My fingers wrapped around his wrist while I hooked him with my legs around his back. Noah’s tongue brushed over my lips as he pulled away, resting his forehead against mine.
“Woah,” I said breathlessly. “That was some kiss.”
His eyes burned with so much adoration as he stared down at me, thumb grazing just underneath my cheekbone. 
“I have something else we can try tonight. If you’re up for it.” 
I nodded, a little too eager. “Always.” 
Noah climbed off of me to help me sit up, removing my cold wet shirt and tossing it to the floor. My nipples perked with the sudden chill and he motioned for me to lie back. 
“Do you trust me?” He asked. 
I nodded again. “Always.” 
“Close your eyes for me then, angel.” 
Doing as he said, I listened as he moved around the room, glass clanking together, and what sounded like him rustling around in his suitcase. The bed dipped next to my head when I felt Noah grab my wrists, pinning them together, and a silk fabric was tied around them. 
“What?” I opened my eyes to see him tying my wrists to the headboard of the bed. 
My heart rate picked up as the slick wetness pooled between my legs. 
Noah peered down at me. “I-is this alright?” 
I couldn’t help but smile at how nervous he suddenly became. 
“More than alright,” I reassured him with a soft kiss to the anime tattoo on his thigh. 
With my reassurance, he finished tying my wrists to the bed and then slipped a blindfold over my eyes. 
“If this is too much, let me know.” 
Suddenly without my sense of sight or touch, my others picked up and I could hear the slight waver in Noah’s voice. 
“I’m okay, Noah. I’ll use the safe word if I have to.” 
He patted my thigh softly before he got off the bed only for a few seconds before returning. A bottle popped loudly in the room and I squirmed, my squeals echoed when a cold liquid spilled over my stomach and between the valley of my breasts. 
“It’s so cold,” I giggle while writhing in my binds. 
Noah’s tongue licked up the liquid, starting at my navel then up between my breasts and I heard him hum in approval. 
“You taste so fucking good, angel.” 
His hand lifted my legs so I was perched on my feet then spread them wide. The cold liquid was then spilled over my core and when I tried to close my legs, Noah’s grip on my thighs turned bruising; in the best way. 
“No hiding.” 
“Shit,” I arched my back off the bed when I felt his tongue lap up the juices, my own and the one he spilled before he sucked it with a pop. 
My jaw was wrenched open and although I couldn’t see, I could hear Noah taking a drink from the bottle before he hovered over my lips. Suddenly, he kissed me, spitting the juice from his mouth into mine and I groaned in ecstasy as I hungrily attacked him. 
Unfortunately, he pulled away too soon and I could hear Noah set down the bottle on the bedside table but was taken aback when his lips met mine in a hungry kiss yet again. His tongue explored every inch of my mouth and I moaned when I tasted myself mixed with the sparkling grape juice. 
“I’m so proud of you, Y/N,” Noah mused while he kissed down my jaw and neck. “I can’t wait to be by your side as you continue to succeed.” 
“You’re going to make me cry,” I joked as a happy tear fell from behind the blindfold. 
He kissed it away. “You deserve all of this.” 
Suddenly his warmth was gone only to be replaced with an unknown feeling being grazed over my perky nipples and then down my stomach. It was gone for a second and what sounded like Noah taking a bite of something juicy before I felt that object grazing over the same path as before only this time it was wet and sticky. His tongue followed that path and I shivered underneath the touch, still only seeing the darkness of the blindfold. 
“If I had to compare you to any flavor, I think this would be it,” Noah’s voice was deep, overtaken by his own lust. 
I whined. “Noah, please.” 
My body felt on fire with what I guess was the strawberries, as it dragged over every inch of my torso followed by Noah’s tongue. The burn between my legs was a painful ache that I needed to touch. With me not orgasming in the pool, I felt like I was ready to explode with the simple breath of him. 
I pulled at the binds. “Please, love.” 
I felt Noah stiffen above me. “What?” 
“Can you take the blindfold off? I want to see you.” 
Suddenly I blinked wildly at the sudden brightness of the room but sucked in a breath when I realized how close Noah was to me; his pupils blown wide. 
“What did you call me?” 
My brows furrowed as I tried to remember what I did call him. 
“Love?” I said again, only this time it was filled with doubt. 
Was it too much? Too soon for a nickname like that?
“I’m sorry. It sort of slipped. If you don’t like it-.” 
Noah’s hand covered my mouth, hushing my rantings. “It’s fine, angel. I like it. As long as you don’t call me some kind of frozen dessert, love is fine.” 
I peered down at myself, eyes widening at the sticky mess he created. My breasts and stomach were covered with the red juice from the strawberry and the chocolate that seemed to melt. 
Then resting on top of my pussy was a perfectly shaped strawberry and Noah followed my gaze by perching himself between my legs, his brown eyes peering up at me. 
He took a bite of the strawberry and flicked it with his tongue. Anything I wanted to say died on my tongue as I continued to watch him devour the fruit that was still resting on my core. 
“No-Noah,” his name came out choked. 
“Hm?” He hummed while flicking his gaze up to me, now dragging the half-eaten fruit between my lips and I arched off the bed at the new sensation. 
I pulled hard at the binds on my wrist but cursed when I realized there was no way I’d be able to break free. 
“Try all you want. I’ve done extensive research in Shibari,” Noah bit gently on the inside of my thigh. “You’re not getting out of that.” 
I hissed. “Shi-what?” 
“Shibari,” Noah bit then licked up the entire length of my thigh. “Japanese bondage.” 
I licked my suddenly dry lips. “Have you been reading my private thoughts or something? You’re two for two tonight on my secret list of kinks.” 
His head snapped up from between my legs. “What was the first one?” 
I wanted to turn my head away in embarrassment but knew that Noah didn’t want me to hide from him. 
“You spitting the juice in my mouth,” I said with only a slight waver in my voice. 
Noah’s eyes darkened as his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip. “You’re bringing out this dark side of me, angel.” 
I lifted my hips towards his face. “Prove it.” 
His face disappeared when he buried himself between my legs again, tongue and teeth crazing over my clit and I cried out in pleasure. 
“I’d say you’re better than any fucking fruit,” Noah said before sucking on my sensitive nub and adding two fingers. 
He pumped ruthlessly and I swore under my breath, stars blinding my vision. 
“God Noah,” I mewelled feeling the coil in my stomach pull taunt, almost ready to spring free. 
My toes curled as my legs went stiff, orgasm so fucking close. 
“That’s right, you call me and I’ll make sure you cum, angel,” Noah rasped. 
Finally, I let my body relax as my waves of ecstasy washed over me and I came all over Noah’s face and fingers, the noises I made undoubtedly being heard by whoever was in the room next to us. 
“Shit,” I breathed, chest heaving. 
Noah licked me through the aftershocks while he reached for another strawberry. The juices squirted everywhere when he sunk his teeth in deep and it was then I noticed he had stripped himself of his swim trunks, baring himself naked in front of me as he knelt between my legs. His hair was falling into his eyes in slight curls from the humidity of the pool earlier and I whined at how gorgeous he looked with the red juices of the strawberry and my arousal coating his lips and jaw. 
His cock was thick and red, beads of precum spilling from the slit and I licked my lips, wanting a taste. 
Noah cocked his head to the side. “Do you want to suck something, angel?” 
“Please!” I begged. 
Suddenly the fingers he used to finger me were stuffed in my mouth, instantly tasting myself and the strawberry on them. My tongue quickly went to work on cleaning them, humming in approval of the taste. 
“That’s it, I want you to taste how heavenly you are for me, angel.”
His fingers were yanked from my mouth with a loud pop but before I could protest, I noticed Noah’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, jaw falling slack. I saw his hips still and felt a warm liquid coat the inside of my thigh. His cum covered both of our thighs and the blanket beneath me. 
“Shit,” Noah cursed as he ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t think-.” 
“Untie me.” 
He raised a brow. “What?” 
My jaw clenched as I spoke through gritted teeth. “Untie. Me. Now.” 
“Yes ma'am,” Noah joked while finally freeing me from my binds. 
Once freed, I managed to overpower him so that I was straddling him, a look of shock on his face. I reached for a strawberry on the plate next to the bed then once perched over his cock, semi-limp but also hard from his orgasm, I took a large bite of the strawberry so now he was covered in the juices. 
I tossed the rest of the strawberry to the ground before licking up the cum from inside his thigh and then the length of Noah’s cock, reveling in the taste of his cum and strawberry. My tongue swirled over the head in fast circles and Noah’s hand grasped at my hair, holding me in place. 
The noise that came from Noah’s mouth nearly made me choke on his cock. 
Did he just whine?
No. There’s no way. 
I grabbed the rest of his cock I couldn’t fit in my mouth and stroked in slow pumps. 
Another whine echoed in the room. 
Shit. 
“Angel,” Noah whined, just before he spilled himself down my throat. “What the fuck!” 
I was pulled off of him with a loud pop, his hips shaking from being over-sensitive. 
“That’s it, Noah,” I praised with a kiss to the reaper tattoo on his stomach. “I knew you had it in you.” 
As he pulled me into his warm embrace, ready to sleep the exhaustion that had suddenly overtaken us away, I didn’t miss how his eyes glistened when I praised him. 
“Do you remember your promise?” Noah’s voice broke through the quiet. 
I rested my chin on his chest as I glanced up at him. “I’m not leaving you, Noah. I’m right here with you as long as you have me.” 
He left a soft kiss on my forehead. “I’m not letting you go, angel.” 
I wrapped my leg around his stomach. “The feeling is mutual, love.” 
Just before the darkness of sleep took us, I traced my finger over Noah’s chest. “I’m going to move to Los Angeles.” 
Noah suddenly lifted my chin to face him, his eyes full of light and hope. “You are?” 
I nodded with a wide smile. “There’s nothing for me in Las Vegas anymore. Everything I want is wherever you are, Noah.” 
We shared a lazy kiss that was full of passion and I relaxed into his embrace, excited for what the future held for us.
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READER
“Mother fucker,” Noah cursed as he bounded down the steps of the stage to where I was standing. 
It was the final show of the tour and everything you think could have gone wrong, did. 
There were fights all night. 
Noah’s voice wasn’t up to par as he was dealing with some kind of sore throat but he wanted to push on. 
Folio’s drum broke but that was an easy fix. 
Not to mention, since this was the last show, that meant that I was flying back home tomorrow. We didn’t speak of it much only because we didn’t want the bubble we created the last few weeks to pop. I needed to go back home to pack up my apartment and figure out where the hell I was going to live. In the last few days, we spent all our free time looking up apartments only to be broken down when I realized how expensive Noah’s area was. 
“Something will come up, angel,” Noah kissed the side of my head. “We can’t rush things.” 
“I have less than sixty days to find something. I feel like I have to rush. But these prices are insane.” 
Nick set down a cup of tea in front of me as we all lounged in the front area of the bus while it drove us to the next destination. 
“Your book is set to be published at the end of the month right?” He asked. 
I nodded. “It cleared out my savings so I’m hoping that it wasn’t for nothing.” 
Jolly sighed. “You need to stop being so negative. While we didn’t read your book, from what Noah has said, your book will become popular. You already have a great following on your Instagram. Just give it time.” 
“I’m my biggest critic,” I shrugged with a sigh. 
“That’s why you and Noah are perfect together,” Folio joked with a smirk. 
I was brought out of the past when Noah kicked the crate next to me and I grabbed his arm. 
“Noah, you need to take a breath,” I said when he turned to look at me. 
The vein in his neck twitched. “This was the last show and everything kept getting fucked up.” 
“I know,” I rested my hand on his cheek and could feel all the anger leave his body. “But you can’t dwell on it, alright? You can’t change things that already happened.” 
He pressed a kiss on the inside of my palm. “I just hate not being able to control things.” 
I nodded. “I’ve noticed. Which is why I have a surprise for you.” 
Noah raised a brow while he wrapped an arm around my shoulder, guiding me towards the green room of the venue. We had plans to drive the six hours from the venue back to Noah’s place where I would take a flight out tomorrow night back home. 
We had about twenty-four hours left with each other and I didn’t want to waste it with things we couldn’t change. 
“Do I get a hint?” Noah waggled his eyebrows as we stepped through the doorway of the green room. 
“Oh, does this have to do with you needing the back room of the bus?” Folio wondered, picking up on the last bit of our conversation. 
“Yes, it does,” I stuck out my tongue playfully before I turned back to Noah. “I’m going to head to the bus to get things ready. Text me when you’re done here?” 
He smiled and pecked my lips. “You have my mind swirling with ideas, angel.” 
I smacked his ass on the way out of the green room. “You have no idea, love.” 
Thirty minutes later, I was standing in the middle of the back room of the tour bus, shaking out my nerves. This was big and something I didn’t know how Noah would react. He could get one look at me and slam the door shut in my face. While we did explore a wide variety of kinks in our sex life, this was something different. 
I pulled at the red lace over my breasts as I adjusted the lingerie set I had bought earlier today. It was tighter than I would have liked but I did feel sexy the moment I stepped into it. The material was thin, my nipples perking through, and the panties had the shape of a heart cut out on my ass, the breeze brushing across my bare ass. 
I had no idea if Noah loved lingerie on his partners or if he liked what I had planned but it was something he needed. Doing my own research on Shibari, I found out that being tied up and bound helped for a variety of different reasons. One specifically: help people who feel like they’ve lost control. 
A soft knock sounded on the door and I quickly brushed my hair out of my face while double-checking to make sure the blinds were drawn. 
“Angel?” Noah’s soft voice called from the other side. 
“It’s open!” 
As soon as he stepped into the room, his eyes widened at the sight especially when his gaze fell on me. The tattoo on his throat bobbed up and down as he swallowed. 
I shifted on my feet. “Hi.” 
“Hi,” he ran a hand over his jaw. “What’s all this?” 
“Uh,” I pointed to the floor. “Well, we both have been complaining about how small the bunks are, and with what I have planned, we needed more space. So I pulled the mattresses from our bunk and the two empty ones to make a giant bed.” 
The corner of his lips curled up but his eyes were hidden underneath his black baseball cap so I couldn’t see them. He wore a black turtleneck, cargo pants to match, his white shoes in contrast to the rest of him.
“And this?” He motioned over my body. 
I suddenly felt self-conscious. “You know, this was stupid. I don’t know what I was thinking.” 
As I walked past Noah, ready to put whatever I had planned behind me, his arm shot out to wrap around me and tossed me to the floor, gently landing on the makeshift bed I created. His hips locked me into place as he held both of my hands above my head with one hand. Still hidden under his baseball cap, Noah tilted his head at me. 
“Did I say you could leave? Especially to walk out there like this?” 
I slowly shook my head. “N-no.” 
“Good girl,” he mused while leaning farther over me, his lips ghosting over mine. 
“Noah,” I whined. “This was supposed to be for you.” 
He hummed, fingers of his free hand touching the lace of my panties. 
“Fuck, angel. You look gorgeous in red.” 
“I-uh-had a feeling you liked red,” I cursed when a finger slipped underneath my panties and between my folds. 
“So wet. What do you have planned for me?” Noah brushed his lips over the swell of my breasts. 
“Let me show you,” I lifted my legs to wrap around him, somehow managing to get him on his back. 
It might not have looked the prettiest but it got the job done as now I was the one straddling him. 
“As much as I love this hat on you,” I smacked it off of him, his brown eyes now on full display. “I want to see your entire face with what I have planned.” 
On the couch next to us was a bag and I rummaged through it, still sitting on Noah’s hips. He rested his hands behind his head as he watched me. 
“Now, I know that you can easily overpower me but can you promise to let me do this?” I asked, pausing momentarily from looking through the bag. 
Noah smirked. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” 
“Safe word?” That was my response.
His face went stone, eyes darkening as his pupils dilated. “Angel.” 
Freeing the rope from the bag, I held it out in front of him. “Take off your shirt.” 
Without a second thought, Noah stripped himself of his shirt, and when I stood to my feet, allowing him to kick off his shoes before shimming out of his pants, donning only a pair of black briefs. 
“Hands above your head,” I ordered. 
Once Noah was adjusted back on the floor with his hands above his head, I sat on his hips once again and began working on the knots I spent the last few days practicing in private. 
“Shibari?” He asked. 
“You know,” I started, pulling the knots around his wrist tight. “Bondage is more than just sex. It can help people deal with panic attacks or not feel like they’re in control. Their mind is solely focused on the binds and feeling as if they can't escape kind of grounds them in a way.” 
“Why do you think I started reading about it?” Noah asked quietly. 
I paused briefly to stare down at him, the features of his face now soft. 
“I can stop-.” 
“No,” he shook his head. “Keep going.” 
With his reassurance, I finished up the knots around his wrists and smiled in victory. I then kissed from his jaw down to his neck, all the way down his chest and stomach. Noah’s breathing became slow and steady so when I peered up at him, I noticed his eyes were closed. 
I began to pull down his briefs, his hard cock springing free and smacking against his stomach. The beads of precum begging to be tasted so that's exactly what I did. 
“Shit, Y/N.” 
Noah’s bound hands reached for me and I immediately pulled myself off his cock. Looking around the room, I tried to find something to tie him to so he couldn’t move his arms. 
“Oh, perfect,” I  muttered while taking another rope from the bag. 
I looped it through a free space of knots on the binds of his wrist and there was enough slack with the new rope as I tied it to the doorknob. We were less than two feet away from it so I knew Noah wouldn’t strain his arms if he pulled on it. I also knew that the door was locked and wouldn’t open. 
“You little minx,” Noah licked his lips as I positioned myself between his legs again. 
“Just enjoy this, love. It’s all about you tonight.”
I grasped his cock in my hand as I lowered my mouth over it once again. My tongue brushed along the underside of it as I began bobbing my head up and down, free hand massaging his balls. 
“Fuck,” Noah strangled out, pulling on his bindings. 
The door rattled loudly but I didn’t care if anyone heard. As I mentioned, this was for Noah and I wouldn’t let anyone get in the way of that. 
I worked him upright to the brink, knowing that when his stomach muscles tightened, he was close. So I popped off of him, earning an annoyed groan from Noah. 
“Fuck  you,” he said with no ounce of venom behind his voice. 
I tsked while smacking his thigh. “Such a filthy mouth. Maybe I need to stuff it with something?” 
Noah’s eyes flashed as he pulled on his bindings. “I fucking hate I can’t touch you right now.” 
I laid a soft kiss on his lips. “Soon, love. If you behave.” 
Reaching behind me, I pulled out the last two things from the bag, slipped on the bright yellow mask, and looked back towards Noah. 
“Oh,” his tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Fuck, Y/N. Angel. I-.” 
I titled my head. “Cat got your tongue, Noah?” 
The door rattled even louder now as Noah yanked on his bindings. “Untie me.” 
Ignoring him, I gently forced his mouth open and set the grillz on his top and bottom teeth. Noah’s tongue glided over them, huffing and puffing with anger that I wouldn’t untie him. 
When he growled, the grillz shined under the light and my pussy clenched with desire. 
I wonder how it would feel to have him eat me out with those in his mouth. 
Hm, another time. 
Noah bit his lip hard, drawing a little bit of blood and I immediately brought his face to mine, licking up the blood as I kissed him deeply. We both moaned into the kiss and I reached between us to poise his cock at my entrance. I wanted this night to drag on but suddenly, I couldn’t wait. I needed him inside of me. 
Pulling away from our kiss, I pushed my panties to the side before sitting completely on his cock. Both of our moans echoed in the room as I sat there for a long moment, reveling in the way he felt between my walls. 
“So good,” I praised before moving my hips. 
The veins in Noah’s arms bulged as he tried to break free of his binds but I refused to let him go. 
“Touch yourself,” he rasped, gone in ecstasy. 
I did, two fingers pressed to my clit in fast circles as I brought both Noah and me closer to our orgasms. 
“Noah!” I cried out when mine hit me without warning, my arousal coating his cock and hips. 
“Holy shit,” his head smacked against the floor. “ ‘M gonna fill you up, angel.” 
I nodded hastily as he fucked me through the aftershocks, soon enough his warm essence filled me up, just like he promised.
Exhausted, I fell onto him in a heap, burying my face into the crook of his neck. Noah brushed a kiss into my hairline. 
“Thank you for this, angel. It helped; a lot.” 
I patted his cheek, eyes closed with slumber. “Of course, my love.” 
Suddenly remembering he was still tied up, I clambered off of him, his cum running down my legs as I went to work untying him. Once freed, I brought his red wrists to my lips, pressing gentle kisses. 
“You might have to explain to the guys where those marks came from,” I said with a grimace, 
Noah rolled us over so we were laying on the makeshift bed again, covering us in the blanket. 
“I want to hold you till we're frozen,” Noah nuzzled his nose in the back of my neck. 
With a yawn, I rested my back against his chest, letting the noises of the bus gliding along the road and the guys moving around the front of the bus lull me to sleep. 
“Angel?” 
I was so exhausted that I could only hum in response to Noah. 
“I hope you know that I’m coming with you to Vegas to help you pack.” 
This had me turning over in his arms so I could face him. His hair was matted to his forehead with sweat so I brushed it away. 
“You don’t have to do that,” I said. 
He left a kiss on my nose causing me to giggle. “I know but I want to. We can keep looking for places in the meantime.” 
I raised a playful brow. “You’re really not letting me go, huh?” 
“You’re stuck with me,” Noah kissed my lips. 
Wouldn’t have it any other way.
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NOAH
Carrying the box down the long hallway, I let my mind wander to how I got here; how we got here. 
I never thought all those months ago when Y/N first stepped into that green room behind Britt that my life would change the way it had. I never expected one night of sex would turn into a full-blown relationship for me. But the moment those bright eyes pulled me in that very first night, I knew that Y/N was it for me. She was the only one I wanted. 
Y/N was apprehensive at first to follow me on the road, but I didn’t blame her. She was worried all we would do was fight but contrary to that, we only fought once and that was a few weeks ago when we had to spend some time apart. 
I had to fly back to Los Angeles for some podcast interviews and Y/N needed to remain in Vegas to finish packing up her place. She still couldn’t find a new place, one that she could afford even though her book sales were flourishing. A week after the tour ended, her book was finally released and was slowly climbing the ladder towards a best seller. It wasn’t there yet but just as I predicted, it was popular. It sold out in a variety of stores around the States. 
Even though it was a small fight, it still weighed heavy on my heart. It was almost two weeks apart from each other and our calls were far in between; both of us were busy. Needless to say, we were getting frustrated. 
“I don’t understand what you want me to do, Noah. I’m just as busy as you.”
I pinched my nose with one hand while the other held the phone to my ear as I paced my room. 
“Yeah I get it but, I want to hear your voice. Sorry for bothering you over it.” 
“I never said that!” 
I knew it was wrong to snap at her but my anger got the best of me. I hated being so far from her. She told me prior she was thinking of renting a place thirty minutes from me. 
“It’s just how it felt! The way you answered.” I sighed into the phone.  
“Noah! Come on! If we want this to work, we can’t do this.” 
I scoffed. “Do what?”
“This petty blaming shit. Who misses whose calls first or what not? Come on.”
“How do you expect me to react, Y/N? You told me you’re renting a place that’s too far,” I fell onto the edge of my bed. 
“Thirty minutes isn’t too far, Noah! And I never said I was renting it. I was thinking about it. There’s nothing else closer. I don’t know what you want me to do.” 
“Just let me find a place, alright? I know something will show up,” I urged her. “Don’t jump into the first place you find without actually thinking it through.” 
There was a long beat of silence. “Look, this is a bit too much for me right now. I’m already stressed out as it is, the last thing I need from you is you pushing me.” 
I shook my head. “I’m not pushing you-.” 
“I have to go. I’ll call you later.” 
Once she hung up, I stared at the screen of my phone for less than two minutes as my knee bounced in agitation. 
Fuck that. I’m not leaving it like this. 
“What, Noah?” Y/N sighed as she answered the phone. 
“I’m sorry, angel. I didn’t mean to start a fight. I just miss you, that’s all,” I apologized while running a hand through my hair. 
“I’m sorry too, love. It was wrong of me to take my stress and anger about the situation out on you. I’m afraid I won’t be able to find anything close to you.” 
I nodded even though she couldn’t see me. “We will, I promise.” 
She did find an affordable place that was close to me and she signed the lease this morning, us spending all day moving in her things. The guys helped out but once evening came, Y/N rushed them out of the apartment. They spent all day working with us, they needed to rest. 
“Here’s the last box from the truck,” I spoke while setting it down on the kitchen island. 
Y/N smiled up at me from her spot on the floor, newspapers scattered around her. 
“Thank you, love. Is Jolly still taking the truck back?” 
I nodded. “You know, I love my house. It’s comfortable. I’ve got a great couch and I go out on my porch every morning to drink my coffee in the sunlight. But I can definitely see myself being comfortable and finding a home here too. Wherever you are is home.”
Y/N rose to her feet and walked into my embrace; my arms immediately encircling around her. We faced the large windows of her apartment as we gazed down to the row of houses that their backyards faced her complex; one sticking out like a needle in a haystack. 
“I love that, and I’m very happy you feel safe with me. You’re home to me too, Noah.” 
Y/N then pointed to the one house I was already staring at. “Is that the porch you have your morning coffee on?” 
I chuckled. “Damn straight. I’ll be able to wave to you every morning.” 
These apartment complexes went up across the street from my house about a year or so ago so when one finally went up for rent, I sent the listing to Y/N immediately and she agreed right away; affordable and close by. Within walking distance. 
We spent the next few hours unpacking everything, joking about things here and there, as music played softly in the background. I helped put away some of the wine glasses, taking them out of the bubble wrap and carefully placing them in the cabinets. 
“They’re all even. Nice!” I muttered to myself, admiring my work. 
I turned to get some more when I saw her. Y/N was sitting on the floor fiddling with an object she unpacked herself. She was so beautiful, serene, so sweet.
That’s when it hit me. We have never been closer in this time of love, nor communicated more profoundly with one another, than when she would brush silent lips against my shoulder or when I touched the end of her fingers, gently, as though she were asleep. 
All this time, I fucking knew. 
I wanted to hide what was pushing out of my mouth, what was about to roll off my tongue- I wanted so badly to keep quiet because of the fear of the unknown. 
What if she didn’t feel the same? I couldn’t handle that. Not after everything. 
However, before I knew it, it flew out of my mouth like a crow who was easily disturbed and needed to get to its next destination 
“I love you.”
Y/N nearly dropped the stack of books in her hands when she rose to her feet, ready to set them on her bookshelf. 
“What did you say?” She set the book on the kitchen island between us.
I ran my hand through my hair, a wide smile on my face. “Well, it’s just that I didn’t think this part of my life was ever going to be a thing. I accepted this part of my life would be over or just a series of random hookups until I met you. Everything that happened from the moment our eyes locked in that green room to now just proved to me what I’ve always known. I love you.” 
Y/N jumped onto the counter and slid herself over to me and I stumbled to catch her in time as her lips met mine in a heated kiss, teeth and tongue clashing. 
“I love you too,” she admitted against my lips.
My heart soared into my throat and I cupped her face. “Fuck, you do?” 
She nodded. “I’ve known for a while now but was too afraid to admit it. But now that I’m here with you, creating these two different homes with you, I know I can't hide those feelings anymore.” 
I lifted her from the counter, my arms resting underneath the swell of her ass, and began leading her towards the bedroom. 
“I love you, Y/N.” I nipped at her bottom lip. 
She moaned, scratching her nails against the skin behind my neck. “I love you too, angel.” 
With a wink, I tossed her onto the bed. “I like your bed. How about we break it in?” 
I kicked the door shut with my foot, the sounds of our love echoing through the new space, creating a home here for the two of us.
254 notes · View notes
honeesucker · 1 year
Text
Three -
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Pairing: ProHero!DynaMight | Katsuki Bakugo x Puppygirl!Reader
Word count: 4,670
Series Content Warnings: Little bit of a slow start... Graphic Depictions of Past Abuse & Trauma Response | Profuse Usage of Pet Names / All-around Softness | Bakugo Experienced Work-Related Trauma (causing near deafness, being put on leave from the agency, PTSD) | Eventual smut™ (will be tagged in individual chapters - to include but not limited to KiriBaku, HybridxHybrid, Hybrid heat trope, sex toy usage).
*Not proofread.
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Bakugo watched as the Director turned to see where he was motioning toward, watching as your form disappears down the hallway until you and the staff member turned a final corner at the end, completely leaving view. She stood silent for a moment, worrying Bakugo as her eyes were trained on the now empty hallway. Her silence stretched on and made Bakugo’s skin itch, until she turned to him with such a thoughtful look it stunned him.  
“The puppy hybrid?” She questioned him, and he confirmed with a nod.
“Yes,” he stated simply, “she’s fond of Red Riot and his hybrid TetsuTetsu and I enjoyed her company during the event tonight – though I didn’t catch her name,” and as he trailed off the Director’s mouth quirked up in a slight smile.
“She doesn’t have one she has ever cared to share,” she mused. “Mostly she just accepts when people call her ‘Puppy’ or whatever else, honestly.” The sigh the Director let go at whatever thought was in her head left Bakugo curious, but he wanted to tread carefully. “I’m not opposed to this idea; she did just get sent back to us about six months ago which has been easy enough to navigate though she has gotten returned to us a total of seven times in the last five years since her initial rescue,” Bakugo waited for the Director to go on, watching with bated breath as she seemed to gather her thoughts. “She is well-mannered and easy to handle but she has been through some tremendously heinous things before her rescue five years ago, and it appears something happens in the homes she's adopted into where a precipice gets reached that cause the adopters to return her... we’ve been trying to uncover more of what may be causing this issue but haven’t been successful,” the Director’s voice trailed off into a whisper as she mouthed something to herself, Bakugo not able to pick up on the words. Her eyes seemed far away as she put her hand to her chin, massaging the skin thoughtfully before continuing. “I agree her being around TetsuTetsu would be a positive to have in a new home as they became quite close while he was here with her, she also did take a liking to Red Riot, and she seems to have gotten comfortable around you quickly. Yes, I wouldn’t be opposed to this at all but given her background you’re going to need to be more prepared – I would like for you to meet with her rehabilitation counselor, Hana, to go over her background and ensure you’re ready to take on this responsibility. I won’t tell you no, Mr. Bakugo, but I want you to have the full picture beyond this day so you can make an informed decision for yourself – and of course per our policy the hybrid will have the final say.”
Bakugo only nodded along to the Director’s speech, agreeing to meet with your counselor, he wanted to know more about you and be the best he could be for you. His thoughts were at war with himself wondering if what he would learn would somehow change his mind in taking you on, and the competitive drive to be your last home – to not fold like the weak extras before him who returned you.  
Fucking cowards.
Bakugo was led by the Director to a different wing of the facility where he was going to have an initial meeting with Hana - your rehabilitation counselor - to discuss your past, habits, temperament and his prospective adoption of you. He waited on a small, uncomfortable chair outside of Hana's office as she had an existing appointment already. Five minutes turned to ten, turned to twenty before Bakugo's leg ceased to bounce with the opening of the office door.
“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Bakugo,” Hana was a stout woman in her mid-thirties, Bakugo assessed, with shoulder-length mousy brown hair and equally kind brown eyes. Her smile crinkled her eyes, and puffed her cheeks in an endearing way that reminded him of how some grandmothers were drawn in his favorite manga's – always smiling, radiating kindness. He was instantly put at ease.
“No problem,” he responded, his tone of voice always coming off slightly confrontational no matter how he tried to soften it, “I appreciate you seeing me on short notice.”  
“Please come in,” Hana motioned for Bakugo to enter, and he did. Her office was brightly lit by the large windows taking up a full wall, with a view of one of the many expansive and breathtaking gardens that seemed to surround the facility itself, like the one he spent time with you in the center. Bakugo was motioned to a seat, and he gladly fell into the plush chair across from Hana, who had a thick file on her desk with your photo pinned to it. “So, I understand you’re interested in our little Puppy,” Hana began, staring Bakugo down but in the least confrontational way.
“Yes,” Bakugo cleared his throat, words almost getting stuck with his nerves. “I’ve been able to spend some time with her, and I have regular contact with Red Riot and TetsuTetsu who she’s friends with – I feel like the benefits outweigh anything else...” Bakugo’s voice trailed off as she noted Hana thumbing through your file, red eye straining to see whatever was in there he could before he realized it was being presented to him. He took it, admiring the adorable photo of you on the front of the folder, before he thumbed it open and was stopped in his tracks.
Bakugo could hear Hana speaking but his ears flooded with white noise, her voice sounded faraway as he eyed the photos that appeared to be dated from your initial rescue.
So many of the photos documented your face and body, sunken cheeks, deep, dark circles and matted hair, blood dried and flaking on your skin and in your hair and fur. Tail matted and bloodied, nothing like the plush little cloud that followed you now. He thumbed through more photos as the bruises and lacerations across your body worsened, evidence of your malnutrition and abuse painted on your body and in your eyes.
Your eyes.
They looked so empty, so far away, compared to the glistening little jewels he could get lost in now. The way the light shimmered from within you through them, compared to the photos he was looking at, astounded him. A small scribble in red ink, in the margin of your first physical check-up stopped his heart.
Bait hybrid.
He could see the wounds across your body transform to fit the picture now the closer he examined them. How so many of them showcased the outline of different sized jaws, deep-set wounds from teeth that tore into you. Bruises that bled out into the shape of hands. In a few of the photos you had bruises consistent with being bound by the wrists and ankles, even a close-up of a deep burn around your throat where a rope would have once been. He read over the extensive notes, one of which being a transcription from a recording:
2:03 A.M. Entered the suspect villa through the front and rear entrances, encountered hostile human guards as well as trained fighting hybrids – all wolves – taken down alive and handed over to the OPS Team.
2:07 A.M. Descended into the basement area and found a hybrid chained to a wall with a rope tightly pulled around the neck. Appears to be a puppy hybrid, unmoving, possibly deceased?
2:09 A.M. Confirmed puppy hybrid alive. Signs of serious abuse, suspect bait hybrid within a larger hybrid fighting ring, released the puppy hybrid from the bindings, examined and took photos for records.  
2:13 A.M. Puppy hybrid attacked one of the OPS Team, confirmed attempted head touch, possible sensitive area as demeanor has changed once the area is avoided.
2:34 A.M. Have confirmed residence cleared of all human and hybrid residents. All humans detained by OPS Team for arrest and conviction, all aggressive wolf hybrids detained by OPS Team for evaluation by hybrid specialists to assess for rehabilitation. Puppy hybrid sent with the Musutafu Rehabilitation Rep for assessment and consideration for foster program.
Bakugo had continued to read through your file, through the different times you were adopted and sent back – your interviews upon re-arrival regarding what happened in the homes was a topic you avoided speaking on. There were notes that you always ended up biting someone in the household but would never delve into the details of what triggered the event. Bakugo read in the interviews with the adopters that the incidents all happened when they would go to pet you, they had mentioned being able to have physical contact with you before, so they weren’t sure what had changed when it came to petting your head.
When Bakugo finally shut the file, he found Hana’s kind eyes regarding him carefully. He swallowed hard, the lump of anxiety lodged in his throat after seeing and reading the details of your past, it was all weighing heavily on him. You didn’t act like someone should after having gone through so much. He’s surprised even in your earlier interviews with Hana no notes were made mentioning any anger – why weren’t you raging at everything those bastards did to you? It almost appeared like you simply accepted it.  
Accepted that life was filled with things like that.
“As you can see, Mr. Bakugo, our little puppy has been run through quite the gamut,” Hana started, accepting the file back from Bakugo’s shaking hand. “Her temperament is quite agreeable given the circumstances, but she does have habits that have caused issues in her previous homes,” Hana paused to regard Bakugo some more and continued. “Given what I have read regarding your situation and the needs for your foster pair based off what the Director has observed I agree with her assessment that you would be a good fit for our puppy – even more so with your ties to two others who would greatly help her transition back into a home. I would only ask that you give me weekly updates on her progress as she encounters new things in your home, that she still meets with me on a monthly basis until it is decided it is no longer needed, and I would appreciate you setting up some visits with Red Riot for her to spend time with TetsuTetsu – those two were thick as thieves when they were both homed here.”
Bakugo only nodded along, agreeing to any and every caveat needed to move the process forward with you. For someone so independent, so brash and unforgiving of himself and others, who prided himself on only needing to rely on himself, his instincts when it came to you were screaming at him to protect you. To show you a life beyond the scope of what you’ve been subjected to. To be the last home you would ever have, ever need, ever want. Something about your looks initially caught his eye – how precious, and tiny, you looked curled up in Kirishima’s arms, how easily he could imagine holding you the very same way. Something in him was inexplicably pulling him to you, and he only hoped you enjoyed talking with him enough to consider coming home with him.
Bakugo left the facility with high hopes, but an equally heavy heart.
˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗
Three weeks had passed. Three long, insufferable weeks but Bakugo busied himself with all the required classes on hybrid rehabilitation and ownership; he even went to all his own therapies and treatments without so much as a grumble. Today was one of the days he was returning to the hybrid center to see you, under the guise of attending the center’s bi-annual adoption introduction event as a Pro Hero endorsement liaison – an event where the community members interested in adopting a hybrid can come and meet those up for adoption in a friendly and open environment, not unlike a picnic or  field day.
He was dressed up in his hero gear, gauntlets heavy against his chest as he stood with his arms crossed. He was already briefed by the center Director, who stated that while you weren’t officially up for adoption at this time you would be attending the event in the interest of giving him more time with you in an informal setting, and as a test of your social abilities with strangers. Presently, Bakugo had been here since the first hour of the event set-up. He has seen a variety of citizens and Pro Heros alike come through and spend time alongside the adoptable hybrids, eating, chatting, playing games and listening to different informative chats with the staff as they set up spread out around the park on the center grounds they currently set up on. He hadn’t yet caught a glimpse of you but there’s no certainty you were brought down with the rest of the adoptable hybrids first thing this morning. The day was about halfway through as he waited impatiently, Bakugo assessed by the Sun’s position, red eyes scanning the area around him cautiously – he didn’t anticipate any trouble but given that the Director asked him to be here on an official capacity first, he knew there had to be a reason.
Bakugo began to walk around, his arms now at his sides, though still buzzing with ready energy. His demeanor relaxed, although you couldn’t tell from his features with his mouth set in a hard line and his eyes narrowed and sharp. He took in the sight of happy hybrids interacting with people unafraid of what the interaction would bring, could see how their eyes sparkled and crinkled with laughter as they ran around. His heart was filling up with such a light feeling seeing how happy everyone was to interact, and his hopes only lifted at the thought of at least one of the hybrids here finding a good match, and forever home. He wondered how it felt for them, to still have such hope and trust in others after what they each had gone through. He was staring fondly at some hybrids and humans playing a game of hacky sack when the back of his neck prickled with an odd feeling. His eyes darted around swiftly, taking in everyone as he tried to identify the cause of this uneasy feeling, his damaged hearing causing everything that he was once zoned in on to become muffled white noise – the high-pitched ringing becoming worse as the panic rose in his chest. The edges of Bakugo’s vision blurred as he tried to take in steady gulps of air, spinning around to see more of the area around him. That’s when he caught it – caught sight of you.  
Or rather, you while stood in an uncomfortable lean away from a man who deemed it appropriate to hover so closely over you. Bakugo’s blood boiled as his palms popped and sizzled, his quirk threatening to activate, but he simply clenched his fists and stalked over to where you were, and for such a large and imposing man Bakugo certainly didn’t lack stealth as he quietly approached you both.
“You really are something special, a delectable little cutie,” this absolute piece of trash extra had the nerve to learn in and smell the hair on your head. “You know you're exactly what I’ve been looking for! The shelters and breeders in my area just don’t have any cute female hybrid companions,” the whiney tone of the off-putting man caused Bakugo’s anger to flare but he wanted to see where this was going and where you’d take it before he made a move he’d regret. “Society has moved into acceptance of human-hybrid relationships, but they just don’t offer any that are cute enough to fuc-! Aughgk!” Bakugo’s hand wrapped around the man and cut off his sentence with a gurgled choke the same moment you had turned on the man and sunk your canines into his forearm. The man’s hands came up to scramble and tried to pull Bakugo’s grip off his throat but to no avail, his arm where your teeth were still buried wiggled weakly to get you to let go.  
“Release, Puppy,” Bakugo’s voice wasn’t harsh as it was directed toward you, but his tone left no room for disobedience and you let go, flattening yourself against the nearest tree to where you were stood. “Y’know, it’s people like you that make things harder for hybrids, scum like you make things unsafe for those who’ve already been through enough,” Bakugo’s anger was boiling to the surface, but it wasn’t a moment after he tightened his grip on the guys throat that security for the event came and gently touched the Pro’s shoulder, stating they would handle it from there. Bakugo relented only when he saw you still standing frozen in place, hiding against the tree a few feet away from the scene. Bakugo gave the pathetic man one last toothy, evil grin which caused the man to cower before he turned to you, kneeling on one knee to not look so imposing in all his Pro gear.  
“Hey Puppy,” to anyone who knew Bakugo, they wouldn’t recognize the man who softened just as he did. Kneeled in front of you with a breeze-soft tone, cooing and holding his hand out for you to take; even when he rescued women and children he was as hard as ever, a regular criticism he was met with from the tabloids, and his own agency.  “You were ready to fight, huh pup?” Bakugo’s voice held a humorous lilt, and your ears perked toward him as your eyes finally met his. “You did a real good job there, Puppy, didn’t need my help at all huh?” Your ears twitched like they wanted to flatten against your head, given your crestfallen expression, but they didn’t budge – cute little fluffy triangles Bakugo desperately found himself wanting to reach for if he didn’t already know your past triggers.
“M’sorry,” you mumbled out, slowly taking the hand Bakugo still had extended and when his fingers closed around yours, he pulled you gently to him. “I didn’t mean to bite,” your voice was small, and you began to shake in his arms, and he only pulled you closer, tucking your head beneath his chin and wrapping his arms tightly around you until the shaking subsided.  
“It’s okay Puppy,” Bakugo assured you, “it’s okay to bite someone when they’re trying to hurt you. Standing up for yourself is okay.” Bakugo could feel you relax completely in his arms as he finally looked around him, seeing the Director, Hana and a couple other staff standing back from the two of you by about ten feet.
“I was told not to bite though,” you mumbled again, sighing as you rested your head against Bakugo’s arms.
“Listen to me Puppy,” Bakugo argued, “biting someone is okay when you have a reason – like defending yourself or someone else.”
“Have a reason...” you murmured more to yourself, but Bakugo caught it, just giving you a reassuring pat on your shoulder before standing with you in his arms, your nose nuzzling against the column of Bakugo’s throat sending an involuntary shiver down his spine as the cold touch ignited something within him.
“Mr. Bakugo, can you and our little Puppy come with me? The police who arrested the man want statements,” The Director spoke softly as she watched you, remaining silent as she lead you both back into the building.
“You up for that, Puppy?” Bakugo watched as you gave a small nod, still nosing at his throat and taking in small, rapid breaths. “What’cha doing there, hm?” Bakugo raised his eyebrows as he heard you whisper, ‘smell different’, and just continued with whatever it was you were doing rubbing against him, and he had to admit a certain comfort came from your cold nose against his warm skin. No more than an hour had passed with you and Bakugo giving your individual statements, he was waiting on a lounge sofa situated in one of the common rooms while you were in a closed office with the officers. Bakugo’s anxiety was back in full force with his leg bouncing a mile a minute, his heart beating furiously against his chest wall and his palms were sweaty and ready to set off, the acrid smell of blackened sugar giving hint to the quirk activation. Bakugo hadn’t realized he was disassociating until he felt a light pressure on his lap. His eyes refocused and brought him back to reality when he noticed you were sitting on his lap, straddling his legs as you laid your body against his, your arms wrapped tightly around him as far as you could go. “What’cha doin’, Puppy?” Bakugo grumbled, heart still hammering in his chest.
“TetsuTetsu used to hug me tight tight tight when I would have a bad dream,” you stated simply, “and you smelled like you needed to be hugged tight tight tight, too.” You just laid your head against his chest over his heart and Bakugo soon found his heartrate slowing down, even though he was certain you were too light to apply what he knew to be deep pressure therapy, his cheeks burned with a cherry tinge and his heart swelled at the sight. Though you lacked enough weight to successfully do what you were trying to do, your proximity to him calmed him all the same.
“S’good, Puppy,” Bakugo mumbled out softly and you beamed up at him as you tilted your head against his chest to meet his gaze, your fluffy tail thumping away happily behind you. “Did such a good job f’me.” Without thinking Bakugo had reached up of his own accord, and rough palm went soft against the silky top of your head, ears splitting away where his hand patted the crown of your head.
Snap!
A soft, almost indiscernible sound was heard, but even Bakugo picked it up as he zeroed in on you in his lap. Your body had frozen in its place, you weren’t even breathing as he took in the sight of you.  
A small, broken rubber band was lying on the lounge sofa just beside you both, your breathing going from zero to a hundred as you began to take in panicked gulps of air. Bakugo looked up and saw one of your ears, normally cute little sharp triangles above your head, but now one was lying flopped against your head, folded over although he could see irritation and fur loss where the rubber band had been, presumably for a very long time. You went to scramble out of his lap, but Bakugo grabbed you and anchored you down against him, you were panicking and even tried to bite his forearms where you could reach but your little fangs couldn’t penetrate his Pro Hero costume, the gear made for battle and hits much stronger than your little bite force quotient*.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m sorryI’msorrym’sorrysorry,” your eyes were glazed over, far-away and deep in a memory as you shook in his arms, fighting to get out of his grip with an admirable strength even though it didn’t compare to the little force he was exerting to keep you in place. Bakugo could see the Director and Hana, who had still been standing nearby dealing with the police officers from earlier, frozen and watching the scene, Hana was stopped by the Director before she had a chance to intervene – the Director watched on with an intent gaze. Bakugo held you with one arm, holding you against him as he used his other hand to reach up and head toward the ear still standing up tall – you snapped and bit onto the guard that usually seated itself beneath his gauntlets, fangs trying hard to tear flesh enough to get him to release you, you shook your head gently but it didn’t do much to stop Bakugo as he touched your other ear and soon heard a similar snap with the small plastic ring, now broken, falling to the floor. You were growling now, not releasing his wrist guard as you glared at him, but he could see it in your eyes: fear.
“Puppy,” Bakugo warned, tone deep and steady. “Release.” You gave an indignant snort through your nose, the gentle puff of air hitting Bakugo’s face as he held you in front of him, a quirk to the corner of his lips giving away his amusement at your fight. His eyes soon narrowed, sharp and deadly, and soon you found yourself slowly unlocking your jaw as he pulled his arm away from you. With all the fight drained out of you at his command, Bakugo watched as your eyes began to well up with tears, which clumped your lashes and fell down your cheeks in fat streaks, your nose moistening as you sniffled and relaxed against the iron grip still holding you in place against him. Bakugo released his grip on you, and you just fell forward against him, sniffling and letting the tears fall unhindered. Bakugo’s arms wrapped around you loosely as he brought both his hands up around the back of your head, fingers normally clenched in fists or pointed at villains and firing off deadly explosions now gently rubbing the soft fur of your ears as he got a closer look at what irritation he caught sight of earlier and what he saw made his stomach turn. “Why did you have rubber bands on your ears, Pup?” His tone was so marshmallow-y soft it melted away what remained of your fight or flight and left you just feeling surrounded in the best of ways. Made you feel like you hadn’t felt quite enough before...  
Safe.
“They said floppy ears were for filthy, cheap mutts, and they had spent too much money on me,” your voice got small as you worried your bottom lip between your teeth, tiny fang drawing a pinprick of blood. “They sent me to go get them cropped because Master would pull my ears too hard whenever he saw them, but I didn’t wanna go-” a choked sob cut off your sentence, but you drew in a breath as Bakugo carded his fingers through your hair, occasionally reaching back up to gently rub your ears between his fingers. “I didn’t wanna go again because the first time they put me to sleep I woke up hurting so bad, so instead I went to the market and took rubber bands from the flower bouquets and wrapped my ears with bandages to look like I went... the other hybrids who got their ears cropped were in so much pain I didn’t wanna be in any more pain, I’m sorry I bit you I didn’t mean to I-” your rambling cut off as Bakugo pulled you tightly against his chest, face smushed against hard muscle as he just applied all-over pressure and soon you found yourself relaxing in his lap.
“Nothing about you is filthy, or cheap, or wrong.” Bakugo stated simply.
You didn’t anticipate the reaction you had when you heard those words, but the second they left the blonde’s mouth you were sobbing against his chest, fisting his hero costume and shaking as he simply let you sit with all you were feeling. Bakugo had continued to look up and check in with the Director and Hana; Hana, who Bakugo noted, was recording the pair with her phone – probably for records and research purposes. Bakugo didn’t mind one bit if it helped you in the end to be understood more. The Director was watching the whole scene unfold, taken back by the days' events already and hardly expecting what came of it – but she knew it more certainly than she did the weeks before when Bakugo first mentioned his interest in you.
You two were meant for each other.
*Bite force quotient (BFQ) is a numerical value commonly used to represent the bite force of an animal, while also taking factors like the animal's size into account.
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naomihatake · 5 months
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In search of freedom (Ch. 7)
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7. What do you wish for?
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⠀⠀➺ fic masterlist
⠀⠀➺ Chapter 6 ; Chapter 7 ; Chapter 8
⠀⠀⠀⠀She's been searching for freedom her entire life and everytime she thought it was laying right in front of her eyes, she was mistaken. She was running around the East Blue, seeking herself and her dreams, meeting people she never forgot. No matter how much she traveled, she could only catch a glimpse of peace before realizing everything would crumble at her feet.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Maybe it was destiny that brought her on that ship with three strangers — foolishly, that's what she tried to believe when the moon shined beautifully and hope settled in her chest, squeezed by the same ribcage where feelings were blooming.
Pairing: female!reader x OPLA Zoro Roronoa
Warnings for this chapter: angst, graphic depictions of deaths and fatal wounds, self-harm, brief suicidal mention, canon-typical violence, tiny bit comfort at the end
Word count: 8,4 k
Theme song: fic spotify playlist (click on the link)
A/N: I'm glad I could finish the chapter so early and there are some scenes in here that I really loved writing. Also, I want you to pay close attention to the fight Witch has with the fishman. The anime watchers and manga readers that got far enough with One Piece will probably get it faster ;)
I'd be happy to hear your opinions on this chapter. Every interaction is appreciated and thank you so much for sticking to this story till now <3
The reader is referred to as "Witch" because I have no intentions of using "Y/N".
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"What is your dream?"
While she would've rather expected that question to come from Luffy, the tipsy Zoro by her side, leaned against the mast, seemed to be rather intrigued by her reasons to remain with Luffy. 
When she turned her head towards him, one of her suppositions was proved to be right: the stars above shone beautifully, but nothing could compare to the swordsman's brown eyes. In the dark, his dark chocolate irises were swallowed by pupils dark as the depths of the oceans. No. Dark and beautiful as the night sky she teared her gaze away from. 
Her silence could've been interpreted in many ways and Zoro might become suspicious, but his already flushed state seemed to swallow everything in. He only looked back at her. 
The witch couldn't exactly spot the specific aura of his gaze. He wasn't only flushed because of the alcohol, no. He seemed… soft, even. His shoulders were relaxed and the grip on the empty bottle loosened up. 
His question was simply something she didn't expect, as he was always down to earth, similarly to Nami. However, there was a tiny difference — he proudly admitted he wanted to become the strongest swordsman in the world. 
"I—," the word left her lips like a mere whisper. 
Her determination faltered under the weight of the alcohol. Until that moment, after sharing some ugly parts of her past, his remarks made her laugh and chuckle happily. 
"I want to be free."
One simple wish that could have so many connotations. 
"I don't see any rope around your wrists."
His voice was like a low rumble coming from the depths of his chest, such a pleasant and soothing sound. 
Their eye contact didn't break. Their gazes were locked together and she couldn't bring herself to be mad about it, especially when she was drunk enough to let vulnerable sides of her poor soul see the light of the stars. 
Faint, shy, but it was there. 
"I want to be free from myself and the expectations everyone has of me," she clarified. "Free from the rules of the world, written or unwritten. Free from the Marines that are now on my tail."
"Why did you become a pirate if you wanted to be free from the Navy?" 
"The sea always looked like a place where I could be free," she admitted with a weak voice. The same tiny voice her younger self used to have when dreaming of a future. 
Zoro knitted his eyebrows together and blinked, staring at the small beauty mark on her face he just noticed. He seemed deep in thought or rather trying to figure out the meaning of her words. 
He was rarely so concentrated outside of critical situations like fights. 
"Are you free now, then?" 
With a gulp, she shook her head. 
"No." 
One word. One heavy weight on her soul. 
"How do you wanna be free?" came another question from the swordsman. 
"I have no clue."
The cage around her was a metaphor. She always felt like iron bars squeezed her tighter and tighter, until she broke down, a situation that occurred only a few times a year and was always hidden from prying eyes. 
Realistically, there was no free place in that world. The Marine wasn't by any means as righteous as they wanted to look like and they were certainly not saviors. Of course, there were plenty of pirates that did nothing else but harm everyone and everything they laid eyes on. Some of them had ugly souls, dark and dirtied by greed. 
However, there were plenty of people that were so-called pirates and yet never harmed unless they had to protect someone. Like Luffy or Usopp. They never took anyone's life. 
Like her father. 
She wasn't one of those pirates. The witch has killed people, even if never solely for blood thirst. Or, at least, not yet. She deserved to die, to never see the light of a new day. 
A personal justice system — that's what she's always had, that's what she grew to learn about from the crew she left barely a year ago. 
Deep down, she knew she would never be free. There was no liberty for a monster. 
When she looked at Zoro, she also wanted him to taste freedom on his tongue. Maybe he already knew what that felt like. 
If she couldn't find her own freedom, she could settle for protecting her friends' freedom. That would be more than enough, right? 
"Aren't you at fault for your own lack of freedom?" Zoro pulled her out of her thoughts. 
His question might've sounded as insensitive and accusing, but she was aware the swordsman didn't mean it that way. He always had his own way with words and, unfortunately, he got misinterpreted most of the time. 
He was simply stating a probable truth. 
Then I suppose I should get rid of my—
No. There was no time to think of such things, even if she was drunk and vulnerable. Admitting that to his face would be shameful of her. 
Maybe she wasn't that ready to share secrets yet, was she? 
"I most probably am," the witch whispered as she averted her eyes back to the sky splattered with stars. "At the end of the day, I'm the only one taking into account what others say and how they affect me." 
She didn't know exactly how to pursue freedom, but she was certain of something else: if that beautiful future stood in front of her, Zoro was probably one of the ways to find out. 
•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•
The witch wasn't able to find freedom if she died at that moment, with the blue hand of a fishman gripping at her throat. There was a lingering ache at the crown of her head from when he pushed her against the wall. 
Her eyes squeezed shut while life seemed to slip from her hold, the same way her fingers lost their force while clutching onto the fishman's forearm. She had to find a way to get out of there, to breathe, because her lungs were already begging for some oxygen. Her vision was getting blurry and the pain in her entire throat spread like fire through her body. 
Maybe it was because of her hyper-aware state, but she could swear the wound on her bicep was bloody again considering the sharp pain shooting through her arm. 
No. There was no time to die and beg for forgiveness — and whose forgiveness could she ask for if she stays alive? Exactly. No one's. 
The witch didn't know if she breathed in air or it just felt awfully familiar to that sensation, but her lungs suddenly swallowed something fresh and powerful. It ate the pain hungrily, destroying every doubt in her mind the more she thought of her promises, of the corpse of a father who still whispered in her dreams "go find your freedom".
The grip on the fishman's arm grew tighter, stronger, until her nails dug into the scales and penetrated them. Her fingers ached, the skin around her nails scratched harshly by the sharp broken scales. Fresh blood surfaced. 
Her eyes opened up slowly, burning with each one of her promises, this time including her own — If I can't find freedom, I'll make it. 
Every nerve in her body burnt and she tasted drugs on the tip of her tongue, an addiction threatening to clutch onto her and take control. 
Power. 
The witch has never been one to love power, to ache for it and yet, there she was, with a devil-like grin growing on her face. 
Power. 
It ate her alive and she loved that sensation. The steadiness of her heartbeats, the cage of ribs that broke to make place for that overwhelming feeling. 
Power will never take control of me. 
Her eyes bore holes through the fishman's entire being. There was no need for her revolver when two shining irises had the same effect. 
Her vision and mind has never been clearer. 
The fishman was struck. A weight settled on his shoulders, pulling him down, doubts flickering in his head. 
Claws sank into his eyes, into his face and throat, clutching at his heart, threatening to pull it out of his chest. 
The fishman stumbled and dropped her. 
His strong grip on her throat left blooming red marks. They were ugly and her neck felt tender, but her nerves didn't register the pain properly because of the adrenaline running through her veins. 
The witch immediately took the opportunity, despite the lack of air in her lungs. She crouched down to take her gun, but before she could shoot again, a loud sound got her attention. 
The door of the restaurant broke at the floor underneath her when Luffy got thrown right into it by Arlong.
On the side of the stairs where Usopp crawled down was Sanji struggling to get back up after he cracked his back at the harsh contact with a table. 
People were hiding under chairs and bars from the fishmen's wrath. 
Her anger was fueled by each single detail. One of her shoulders felt light, while the other was heavy. The monster lurking inside her had one eye open — the same one that pushed her to cuss out Mihawk back when Zoro got a cut through his chest. The same monster she wouldn't trade anything for, because wrath has always been her forte. 
The small flame of revenge started burning in the pits of her stomach. Steadily. Still vague, easy to control. 
She ran down the stairs and passed by Usopp, who was at that moment helping Sanji get on his feet. The witch got out of Baratie, suddenly stopping in her tracks when she saw Arlong standing a few meters in front of her. 
That fucker—
Luffy shouted something along the lines of Gum Gum and she knew that was his fight to deal with. 
However, it was a fight she didn't know if he would win at that time, considering the way Arlong only turned his head to the side when he got punched in the face by Luffy's fists. The fishman spat blood on the wooden floor while he stepped closer and closer to the Straw Hat. 
In a fraction, the punch Luffy received sent him flying in the sails of a boat and he fell down with a thud, grunting. It was stupid of him to provoke Arlong further, but Luffy has never been to give up or let his enemies feel the satisfaction of a victory without a proper fight. 
The witch wondered if her captain didn't break a rib or two after being punched and thrown around for so long. He still had the energy to throw his fists into Arlong's face with all he's got, using his rubber arms to attack from meters away. 
His Devil Fruit powers were definitely the only reason why he was alive. 
But not for much longer. 
Arlong muttered something with a growl and once he sank his hand in the water, the witch knew it wasn't going to end well. 
The fishman didn't just splash Luffy; no, he soaked the Straw Hat to the bone and the hit with both sea water and brute force got Luffy to the ground. It was his biggest weakness. 
The witch's eyes widened when she saw Arlong grabbing at Luffy's shirt and lifting him in the air, opening his mouth to reveal razor-sharp teeth. 
Her feet carried her for only a second and she almost shouted out for Luffy out of despair — she would rather be stabbed in the stomach countless times than feel helpless again. Out of instinct, the hand holding the gun raised, aiming at—
"Arlong, wait!" 
Nami. 
The witch snapped her head towards her friend. 
The orange-haired woman stomped her feet and came, leaving the Going Merry behind her. The tank-top she wore exposed a strange old tattoo on her left shoulder. She was clutching tightly onto a thin and long cylinder. 
"I have it," she addressed Arlong. "I have the map." 
The map. 
"I got it for you, just like I said I would."
The witch blinked away the confusion that almost made her hazy and stepped in front of Nami, stopping her from moving forward. 
"Nami," the witch knitted her eyebrows together. "What's going on?" 
Nami's eyes held no clear emotion besides a flicker of anger. 
"Exactly what you knew all along."
It was one of those times when the witch wished her tarot was wrong. 
She shook her head, one of her hands gripping at Nami's wrist. 
"Nami," the witch squeezed her friend's hand tighter, scared it would slip from between her fingers. 
"Let go."
Nami snatched her arm out of the witch's hold and her jaw ticked. She wasn't only annoyed, there had to be more in her eyes. 
"You cannot possibly tell me you want to do this," the witch insisted, stepping even closer, until she was one breath away from the navigator. 
Their intense gazes clashed together and none of them let the walls fall. 
"But here I am, ain't I?" Nami cocked an eyebrow. 
When the orange-haired passed by, her shoulder collided harshly with the witch's who was still stuck in place. 
No fucking way. 
The witch needed time to think, she had to search for some clarification with her tarot cards. She needed more time to read the energy, to figure out the situation, to understand what, where, why and when. Nothing made sense and time passed by so fast she couldn't even process it all. 
Luffy was so disoriented he didn't even pour enough force in his hands to get rid of Arlong's grip on the collar of his shirt. 
"Nami?" he firmly spoke. "What are you doing?"
"I tried to tell you, Luffy," Nami continued walking towards him. "I was never on Your crew. I only joined up with you so I could steal the map." 
"I don't believe that," Luffy denied. 
"That's because you only believe what you want to believe. Doesn't make it true."
Nami, for fuck's sake, we both know you're lying—
The witch opened her mouth, ready to argue, to yell from the top of her lungs, but with one glance thrown to Arlong, she stopped. Saying the wrong thing might get Nami in great danger and she might lose credibility in front of him. 
"Sister Nami's a loyal member of the Arlong Pirates," Arlong started speaking, pointing with his chin towards the one in question. "She has been for years."
The witch didn't know why she still protected Nami, but she was certainly not going to give up on her friend at that time. 
Nami shoved the map in Arlong's nose to get his attention to her — or maybe the witch has gotten to another level of delusion. 
"Why waste your time killing a Devil Fruit eater?" Nami reminded the fishman as if it wasn't a death sentence. "Let the sea do it for you."
"Nami, this is too far, cut the crap—" the witch revolted immediately. 
Before she could make any step towards Luffy, she was grabbed by the back of her neck and launched into the wall of Baratie with sheer force — it was one of Arlong's asshole crewmates. She groaned in pain and squeezed her eyes. The shoulder she fell on sent sharp spikes through the entire left side of her body. 
She cussed out, struggling to get back to her feet when Arlong let Luffy drown in the sea. The witch let out a shout of the Straw Hat's name and one of her knees betrayed her, resulting in another unceremonious fall to the ground. 
Lucky for her, an arm curled around her front to help her up, a silver ring resting on the finger of the man. 
"Luffy fell in the water, go now!" she didn't even wait to be properly raised to her feet to urge Sanji to jump. 
Her aching body and the lack of strength wouldn't help her get Luffy out of the sea. She didn't even clearly notice when the cook left her side and jumped into the sea, too caught up in the agitation inside of her. Events passed by her faster than light. All she saw was a discarded shirt. 
She wasn't sure because of what powers she managed to walk on the deck, at the edge where the other two should appear from under the water. Her head turned when she recognized Usopp from her peripherals.
"Luffy?" he asked, panic building up as his hands shook. 
The witch would have responded if not for the answer to appear right under their noses. Sanji held Luffy tightly by the collar and pushed him on the dock with Usopp's help who dragged him. 
The witch extended her hand to bring Sanji on the dock with them and since then, things turned blurry despite her open eyes. 
•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•
Now the only woman in the crew, the witch sat on the floor in the room that used to be Nami's, her back leaning back against the wooden wall. With eyes devoid of life, she stared up at the ceiling while pulling her knees closer to her chest, once again trying to hide herself from everyone. From everything. 
On Nami's bed there was still an inert swordsman and he didn't even flinch when she tentatively said his name after entering the room. 
"Fucking dammit," she squeezed her eyes shut. 
Nami left. Zoro was unconscious. Luffy almost drowned if not for Sanji. Usopp was bluffing about how "everything has to be alright". 
She didn't know if he was trying to convince himself or her. 
Because everything was wrong. It felt wrong. 
The witch took in a deep breath, but only half of the oxygen she inhaled got to her lungs and brain because of her constricted throat. Tears were sitting on her waterline for the fourth time that day. 
Too much happened since the crack of dawn and it wasn't even sunset. 
Exhaustion made her look years older than she was. Her head fell forward, forehead hitting her knees before the light sneaking through the windows could fall on her face. 
Tears filled with anguish ran down her cheeks and it was the first time she allowed herself to let at least an ounce of the weight on top of her body dissipate. The droplets of pain melted down her cheeks and sank into the material of her shirt. 
The witch sneaked her arms around the back of her thighs and squeezed herself tighter in a ball, lips trembling. Her breathing was ragged not only because of the lump in her throat, but also because of the firm grip that fishman had on her neck. The skin was sensitive to the touch and it hurt to swallow. 
Every event of that day got added one on top of another. Her fight with Zoro, the fact that he was unconscious after that dwell, Nami leaving just like the witch expected to.
Betrayal. Maybe I was a fool for trusting her. 
Or am I? 
Teeth sank so deeply into her lower lip it drew blood and she tasted copper on the tip of her tongue. 
Pain. That was right. 
The only right thing happening that day was the physical pain. Palpable, real, bringing her back to earth. 
Except that time it failed, because the tears didn't stop. She squeezed her eyes shut as sharp pain traveled through her body, from her chest into her limbs, puncturing each nerve, shaking her to the core. 
Her soul screamed, caged by sorrow, an ugly animal that sank its fangs into her flesh and ripped from the inside. Blood was pouring from her heart, soaking organs and bones, melting into the skin like acid. It burnt so fastly, yet it never seemed to end. With a throbbing head, she couldn't hold the pain back anymore. 
However, no sound ever left her lips parted in a silent scream. No whimper, no sob, no cry for help. The room was filled with silence as a heartbeat drummed in her ears in an agonizing rhythm. 
I shouldn't have come on this ship in the first place. Only if I had been wise enough to leave when I got the chance. Syrup Village was a perfect option, I could've gone on another ship and continued my mindless traveling. Why did I bother myself with this? Why did I suddenly decide it was a great idea to be part of another crew when this only has brought me suffering? 
With each second, she willingly aimed the gun at herself and every word was like a bullet. 
I should've left. I would've been happier. I should've left it all behind when I realized this won't go well. Fuck the premonitions, fuck the destiny, damned be the world. 
A body stripped of clothes and skin, only burnt flesh left behind the monster's bites. Broken ribs and a shattered heart pumping a meaningless life. 
As seconds passed by one after another and her tears came to an end, the gentle swinging of the ship pulled her into a half-asleep state.
She noticed when Luffy came into the room and she was aware of his position on Zoro's bed — the cracking of the wood gave him away. As the Straw Hat talked, she only heard the swordsman's name being spoken, some words here and there, but most of his monologue was muffled. 
He probably thought she was asleep because of her slow and steady breathing. 
Exhaustion was clawing at her muscles and brain, but something kept her aware of the surroundings for a few more minutes. 
Everything turned pitch black in her perspective. A husky and deep voice made her believe she was dreaming, the tips of her mouth curling shily upwards. 
Only if it would've been reality. 
"Zoro!" 
Her entire body flinched and she raised her head, wide eyed. If she didn't know any better, she would've said her soul jumped out of her. 
"Luffy?" she whispered, confused on why he yelled the swordsman's name—
"You're not dead!" Luffy shouted again, loud enough for everyone in Baratie to hear. 
He's alive? the witch thought to herself. I really heard his voice. 
Luffy crawled on top of Zoro and squeezed the life out of him. Literally. 
"Now I wish I was," she heard Zoro mumble between grunts. 
He was alive. 
The witch's lungs filled with fresh air for the first time that day. Relief washed over her and her body relaxed, shoulders deflating as some of the weight sitting on them fell into the sea below. 
While leaning her body against the wall, she managed to get up just to get a better view of the swordsman who was squinting his eyes at the ceiling. A heavy sigh escaped her lips, head falling forward. 
At least one thing went right, didn't it? 
After Luffy got up from above Zoro, the swordsman managed to take some deep gulps of air, chest raising up and falling rhythmically. 
"I had the strangest dream that Nami left," he said with a frown on his face as he closed his eyes. 
"She did," the witch responded faintly. 
There wasn't enough courage in her to look at him as she said that, instead choosing to glance at the window. 
Zoro looked again at the ceiling and realized her voice was too faint for all of that to be a mere joke, a prank thrown at him for staying unconscious for… for how long? 
"It's my fault," Luffy said with his chin lowered.
From the corner of his eye, Zoro saw the witch place a hand on their captain's shoulder. 
"We'll find a way."
There was a promise etched onto her fragile smile. As if a simple brush of air or one wrong world could make her crumble. 
But she didn't. Instead, she threw a knowing look to Zoro and silently told him to talk with Luffy. She knew the Straw Hat needed his first mate's support at that moment. 
What confused Zoro the most was watching the witch get out of the room without too much of a word. Her hair bounced as she stepped further away from him and their friends. Even as his ribs and body hurt at every inhale, he wanted to understand the real reason for her leaving. 
Last time they talked, she expressed worry. What happened in the meantime? What the fuck went wrong? 
There was a fat chance she was still mad at him for whatever reason. Sure, she was calm, collected, but he could swear he's seen fire burning in her eyes more than just once and a grin splayed on her face at the thrill and adrenaline of a fight. She snapped at him when they fought and he had to admit it would've been sadder if she treated him with silence. 
However, he didn't know if that was silence or something more. 
Weird, he concluded. 
His attention went back to Luffy. The swordsman couldn't manage watching the ever happy-go-lucky captain speak like a ghost. 
"You didn't do anything wrong." He seriously hoped he could find the right words to bring Luffy back to reality. 
There's no way that crew would fall apart without a proper fight. What has been was just the beginning. 
"You acted like a captain."
"But the crew is falling apart," Luffy pulled his lips in a tight line. 
"No, it's not," the green-haired firmly affirmed. 
Maybe a lot more than Zoro thought has happened, but that was definitely not the end. 
•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•
Before the sun could set and hide in the sea, they gathered some supplies for their new journey. They found out from the clown head — who they found out told Arlong where to find the Straw Hats — that Nami was most probably heading to Conomi Islands, specifically Cocoyashi Village. Sanji joined their crew, which made Luffy jump in excitement for the second time that day. 
Luffy's folded arms were resting over the railing of Going Merry while he stared down at the water splashing against the ship. 
"Does it always take so long?" Luffy spoke so softly. 
Sanji chuckled with the fishing rod in his hand as he waited for a fish to catch the bait. 
"We've only been here for two minutes, be patient," the cook reminded him. "Some days, they bite as soon as you drop the line and some days, it takes hours."
Then, he threw a knowing glance towards Luffy with an arch of his eyebrow. 
"But we're not talking about fishing, are we?" 
"I highly doubt it," the witch mumbled as she curled her fingers around her tarot deck. 
She didn't dare to shuffle through the cards again, a side of her afraid of what was waiting for them. It felt uneasy everytime she got the impulse of taking the cards out and finding out which one of them holds the truth. 
The witch was leaning with her back against the railing, not so far away from the Straw Hat, pressing her fingertips into the old box made of cardboard that fit perfectly in her hands. 
Luffy smiled towards Sanji before he stared into the horizon with hope. 
"I just want to know if Nami's okay."
"A beautiful, talented woman does not choose to ally herself with a pirate like Arlong," Sanji said firmly, convinced of his beliefs. "Nami clearly needs to be rescued." 
The witch breathed in deeply and widened her eyes, trying to find the right words to tell them what she knew. A pair of heavy steps caught her attention and she immediately recognized the chiming filling the air. 
Zoro. His hand was resting on his Wado Ichimoji — his only sword now. 
"Her tattoo says different," he said. 
The way he looked at the witch was bringing back to life some shattered pieces of her soul. He might look serene when sleeping, but he was better that way — wide awake and an asshole. 
Also, he noticed something she couldn't pinpoint. There must've been a scar on her face, most probably. At first, he only stared at her face, just to lower his gaze. Oh. She didn't sleep for two days and got in a fight with a fishman, which left some nasty bruises on her bare neck. 
"Well," Sanji argued, "tattoos don't tell the whole story. And like any woman, she's a mystery to be unraveled."
"Am I supposed to feel flattered?" the witch arched her eyebrow at the cook after she turned her head towards him. 
Right at that moment, Zoro stepped between her and Luffy, restricting her view. All she could see was his chest, bandaged and with a red patch in the center. 
"You should change your bandages," she looked up at him. 
However, the witch was hesitant when she did so. As if the man in front of her could vanish in thin air. 
Zoro turned to Sanji and decided to completely ignore her comment. 
"Nami made her choice." 
The cook immediately frowned, creases appearing on his forehead. His scowl was deeper than Zoro's.
"You don't know why," Sanji retorted. 
As if getting snapped by Usopp, Zoro scoffed: 
"The only thing I want to hear from you are dinner specials. You don't know Nami."
"Sounds like you don't know her either, Mosshead," Sanji spat with a taunting smile on his lips. 
"Oh God, stop, you two," the witch sighed heavily, annoyed. 
Just to get the swordsman's attention to her, she poked his back with the tip of her finger, digging deep enough to receive a light flinch. It seemed like she took him by surprise. She bent her back more as she continued resting her elbows on the railing to glance at Luffy over Zoro's shoulder. 
"I'm sure Nami has her reasons," their captain nodded. 
"I know Nami's reason."
All of their heads turned to the witch. 
Usopp was just walking up the stairs of the forecastle when his eyes sparkled curiously.
"What are you guys talking about?" 
"Nami," Zoro said quickly. "Why didn't you say anything until now?" that time, his sharp words were directed to the witch. 
The witch shot him a glare, displeased by his reaction. However, she would've acted the same if someone was to hide something so important. 
"It would've felt unfair to tell you before talking with her," the witch clarified. 
"You talked with her about it?" Usopp suddenly intervened, surprised by the news. 
The witch gripped at the tarot deck in between her hands tighter and clicked her tongue, trying to find the best words to explain. 
"I did. Somehow," uncertainty latched onto her voice. 
None of them rushed her anymore so she took her time. 
"Listen, this isn't as easy as it seems to be. Yes, Sanji, she didn't willingly get into Arlong's crew."
A snarky remark sat on the cook's tongue and he wanted to throw it Zoro's way. 
"But," the witch continued in order to stop an eventual argument, "she's fully aware of her actions. She was forced by the circumstances to do what she's doing, but it doesn't mean she likes acting like Arlong's crewmate. Nami certainly hates him from the bottom of her heart. He did something. Something that forced her to act like she's a friend just to protect something or someone. Or both. She's not only protecting herself, she's protecting what's most dear to her heart."
It wasn't the witch that spoke, but the gut feeling she had. Her thoughts didn't seem so clear in months, since her last successful tarot reading. Now, as the significance of each card sank into her brain, she knew what everything meant. 
It wasn't her that spoke, but her intuition. 
"She's keeping us away because she's scared we'd get hurt, not only because we would get in her way. Nami cares about us and that's exactly why she's pushing us away."
"Who does that?" Zoro wondered out loud. 
Maybe he should've kept that to himself. 
"You do that," the witch's head snapped towards him. "I do it. And Nami does. She said she tricked us — which was true. At the same time, she's tricking Arlong. He isn't her crewmate, he's an asshole that stole something from her—"
The witch got so carried away she didn't even realize what she just said. She suddenly furrowed her eyebrows into the void and received confused looks from her friends. 
"He stole something. Her freedom."
Those words were said as she actively figured the details out, staring into the void. 
"Witch?" Usopp nudged her. 
"Yes?" she turned towards him. 
"Did she tell you all these things?"
There was a light chuckle that left her lips at that question. 
"The cards did. Her reactions just gave her away and answered my doubts." 
The witch knew what games she was playing. She's been doing these things for years and not only — she trusted her gut feeling above everything else. 
She received an especially confused look from the cook, who had no clue why she was called a witch. He probably supposed it was because she was beautiful or maybe secretive. 
He should've taken that nickname literally. 
"What do we do then?" Zoro turned his head towards their captain. 
Luffy listened intently to everything the witch had to say and he made up his mind since long ago:
"I want to hear her decision for myself."
"That's for the best," the witch nodded. 
There was more she would've liked to say, but speaking from the gut was both easier than usual and harder when tired. Considering the last time she got some proper sleep was before they got attacked by the Marines, she could say it's been long enough for her mind to get clouded. 
Stuck in her thoughts as she was, the grip on her tarot deck loosened up and the object fell from her hold on the wooden floor. The witch's exhausted brain registered that too many seconds later. 
A deep frown appeared between her eyebrows, blinking in an attempt to clear her vision while she bent down to take the deck in her hand. 
Obviously, she failed. 
When her back was straight again, her vision went pitch black and a heavy throbbing settled in her temples. The ship swayed worse than a second ago. She groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes closed. 
The witch has been in that situation before. She stood still, because attempting to walk would've ended in a passionate kiss with the floor. 
When the sensations dissipated little by little, tiredness was everything left behind. 
"I'm gonna get some rest," she mumbled, the words a little slurred. 
With her eyes now opened wide enough to see where she's heading, she walked towards the stairs and cussed them out one by one. 
Falling like an idiot wasn't on her to-do list for that day. 
By some miracle, she managed to walk all the way into the galley. The room she shared with Nami was hers, but it was too far away. Her feet barely carried her to the dark red sofa she let her body fall on like a sack. 
She didn't care about the clothes she hasn't changed from, too caught up with everything that has happened. There was enough time for a shower later, when exhaustion wasn't seeping into her bones. The only thing she had the decency to do was to take her boots off. 
She stretched her legs and put an arm under her head, resting on her side to face the room. Not the most comfortable place to sleep in, but after all of that tumult, nothing mattered anymore. 
The sweet sound of jingling disturbed her again. 
Oh, god dammit. 
She was one breath away from cussing Zoro's ass and his earrings — despite being in ecstasy that he woke up. The witch, as if expecting his next move, bent her knees to make space for him. The swordsman plopped himself down with a grunt at the other side of the sofa and her bare feet touched his thigh. 
She didn't dare mutter a word about his presence. Zoro could stay. Gosh, as she was thinkingln about it, she could only believe it was a blessing he wasn't only awake, but also throwing remarks her way. 
It was so much better than telling stories of her past to an unconscious Mosshead. 
Right. 
The edges of her mouth curled in a smile. 
"What?" 
"Mosshead," she chuckled, eyes still closed. 
Zoro let out a scoff and she could imagine him rolling his eyes to the ceiling. 
"Didn't you say you were going to rest?"
His voice was unusually low and even soft, pulling her towards the dreamland. 
"I'd say this place is perfect," she mumbled.
The witch didn't bother to explain she was tired out of her mind or that her feet would most likely betray her if she dared to get up. 
The silence was filled with their breathing and the sounds of the water splashing against their ship, the cracks of the wood. She remembered the times when she traveled with her father's crew and she would many times fall asleep curled next to a barrel while the vice-captain was still singing sea shanties in the middle of the night. 
"Zoro," the witch whispered. 
She was too weary to care about what left her mouth. It acted like alcohol — it clouded her mind and she felt shameless. 
"What if I wouldn't have stepped on this ship?" 
That question plagued her mind and she finally said it out loud. 
"So the last ship was more to your taste?" he snickered. "It almost sank in the sea." 
"You're such an ass," and while that phrase might've sounded harsh in the past, at that moment it was filled with fondness. 
"Been told that before." 
I really missed that voice. 
"For someone with a big ass bruise on your neck, you sound more like a coward than I thought."
Maybe she deserved that serious tone thrown her way. Was he right? Only halfway through. 
"No," she was stubborn enough to fight the sleep for a few more minutes. "What if I would've been happier? Y'know, less worries, no people to haunt my ass. No anxiety."
No crying over you for being almost dead. 
The continuation sat on the tip of her tongue and got swallowed back with a gulp. Was there really a need for an admission? Puffy eyelids and dark circles under her eyes, chapped lips and bandages around her forearm soaked in blood. Those details were enough proof. 
"Do you hate us that much?" his low voice sent shivers down her spine. 
"It's not about that. Just…" she gulped and curled her fingers around the tarot deck she was still holding onto. "I want some peace."
"I say you should get some sleep." 
•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•
Standing on the deck felt right, even if the witch doesn't remember why she was there. She can't point out the weather clearly, it feels blurry. Seconds ago she was in the kitchen talking with Sanji about some unusual topic she couldn't remember. 
Then why was she suddenly on the deck, face to face with a kneeling Zoro who had two swords piercing through his upper body from behind? She didn't only know it was him, she felt like it was him, as if the pieces connecting in her head were just right. However, it horrified her. Everything around him was blurry except for him. 
Him, whose essence of life was pouring down his body, creating a puddle under him, sinking into the cracks of the wooden floor. The crimson liquid melted into his white t-shirt. Now that she was looking better at it, she noticed the sharp point of a sword penetrating all the way through his stomach to the front side of his body. 
He was looking up at her, despite the way his chin was tilted down. Those sharp brown eyes were boring holes through her. His beautiful irises painted with the warm nuances of chocolate and coffee were scary, like no other time. 
Was Luffy next to her? It feels like it was him, even if she can only distinguish a silhouette in the corner of her right eye. 
Why was Zoro looking at her like that? She couldn't move, as if her feet were stuck in place. She didn't know if she was breathing or if she was alive anymore. She didn't know why she was on the deck, why those swords took his life away. It barely made any sense that he had enough energy to stare at her. 
He didn't falter once. He didn't beg for help, her name didn't come out of his mouth, no groans, no nothing. 
She couldn't move. As she stood in the same place, her anxiety was rising up, up, up, until she felt like panicking despite the lack of reaction. She felt like exploding, but she couldn't express those horrific feelings. 
She couldn't help him. Her arms were stuck by the sides of her body, as if someone had put a spell on her. She had the will to move her legs, to get closer to him, she wanted to, but she remained glued in that spot. She couldn't feel her body. 
She had to do something, but she was trapped inside an unmoving object that was her own body. Why? 
Everything snapped. 
The smallest hope towards an escape woke her up. Her eyes opened instantly and she raised up in a sitting position, eyes frantically searching for more clues, for answers about the horrifying images she just saw before her eyelids. 
Her heart was beating so fast it made her wish she didn't have it at all, a deafening ba-dump repeating in her eardrums over and over again. 
Unfortunately, she was face to face with the swordsman she dreamt of. Instantly, as if she was shot, she looked at his upper abdomen. For no more than two seconds, she saw a big black patch on his bandages. 
She inhaled deeply and her heart was beating faster, suddenly unable to release that breath of air. Her eyes widened and her hands shook, chest tight. 
"Hey," she heard more of a background sound. 
She blinked countless times, until her tired brain figured out that it was just her imagination. It was so dark in the room and her nightmare was a shock, the reason why at some point the patch started blurring out, inviting her to blink until it turned to be one small spot. It has been there since he woke up from his slumber. 
When the realization sank in, she let go of that breath and let out a pitiful whimper. Deep inside, it felt like relief, her eyes now squeezed shut. 
This time, he clearly called her name after his fingers securely gripped at her shaking shoulders, avoiding her wound. Her hands were trembling, her entire being disturbed. 
Zoro said her name, not the nickname she got so used to hearing on that ship. Not the usual Witch, a word that sounded so endearing coming from her crewmates; no, it was her name and it was spoken so softly she could've confused him for someone else. 
She had a poor attempt at recalling those images in order to figure out the reality, but it backfired. The bloody scene stuck before her closed eyes pushed her to open them up again. 
Thankfully, his dark gaze was warm, filled with unspoken worry. For a brief moment she wondered how he woke up, since he slept like the dead sometimes. 
"I'm surprised I managed to wake you up," her voice trembled. 
He didn't joke back at her. Instead, his thumbs started rubbing slow circles into her shoulders in order to bring her back to earth. Or, better said, back to the ship that was peacefully sailing on the sea during the night. 
"I think you should correct your breathing," he pointed out. 
Once she changed from autopilot breathing, it felt like her throat was tight. 
"Breathe in."
Blindly, she trusted his instructions. That mere breath shook her again, feeling shivers when she allowed the oxygen to sink into her lungs, the same way his voice sank into her being, in the cracks of her soul. 
It took a few minutes until that normal bodily process didn't seem like an impossible task. Her muscles were tense until Zoro squeezed her shoulders again. 
She could distinguish more of his face than just the warmth she noticed not long ago. His expression seemed pained with worry and not from a wound that could kill him, even if there still were bandages wrapped around his torso. Maybe it was also fear that made him look so different from usual; or was it confusion? 
"I'm sorry for destroying your sleep."
It was half a lie. She wasn't sorry about the touch keeping her afloat, about how she managed to breathe again only because of his presence, because he was clearly awake and alive. At the same time, she knew he needed to rest so his wound could heal properly. 
"Be serious," he huffed in a lower voice, clearly displeased. 
"I am. You should sleep."
"Just like you should, but I doubt you will."
"I'd argue about that."
She was still tired, even if her shock from earlier struck her like thunder. Her eyes could close at any moment, which she feared, because another nightmare didn't sound good even for how stress resistant she became. 
Since he heard her soft whimper when she was still sleeping, he had no clue what to do, how to act. One thing was clear: it was better to wake her up, despite the possibility she might get defensive and attack. 
Alright, now what the heck do I do? He's had nightmares before, he's seen horrendous things during his sleep countless times, but he didn't have any idea about what to do for her. Was he even supposed to do something? She didn't like being pampered — maybe he should act like nothing happened. However, the fear coloring her face earlier shocked him as well. The witch has always been collected, she had such a firm grip on her reactions it was annoying sometimes. 
The swordsman shook his head, but didn't let go of her. Instead, he leaned against the cushions on his side, while his hands fell down to her forearms to get a comfortable position of his limbs and upper body. The wound on his chest sent daggers through him at each movement. Barely a day of consciously dealing with it and he's already got annoyed. 
The witch looked down at where their bodies were connected. His long calloused fingers were securely wrapped around her arms, close to her wrists. When did her legs end up in his lap she didn't know. Her bare knee tingled with warmth — why? 
"You had a weird reaction after you woke up," his whisper stirred something in her heart. 
"What do you mean? I had plenty of reactions."
Are you playing the idiot with me? Zoro thought. 
"You were more scared of seeing me than of the nightmare."
"Oh."
Why did the Mosshead have to be so observant? It was one of the reasons why she was attracted to him, evidently, but sometimes he exposed her too easily. 
She dropped her chin and looked down at her own hands. Admitting that she feared his role as the main character of a tragedy for the second time felt embarrassing for some unknown reason. She's been in enough humiliating situations and he never ridiculed her. 
Zoro was utterly stuck. Was he supposed to move away? His body felt too heavy to get off the sofa and go to his room. It wouldn't be alright leaving her alone with her crippling anxiety either, considering she was prone to overthinking. 
He wanted to do something, but what? 
He let out a long sigh and rested his head against the cushions, his fingers still curled around her wrists. Her pulse was fast, but as seconds passed by, it slowed down under the weight of his thumbs. 
The witch became hyper aware of the situation, but it felt too good to move away. Her tired brain entirely registered his presence and her eyes closed. She breathed in the chill air of the night and, while focusing so intently on Zoro's presence, she fell into a deeper state of mind, half asleep. 
He was disturbed from his own journey into the dream realm when he felt a light weight on his shoulder. Once his eyes opened, he saw the cause: she leaned in closer to him, clearly unaware. 
He smelled like the sea and the familiar scent of soap clung to the unbuttoned blue t-shirt he wore. With her forehead resting against his neck, the witch could vaguely point out his pulse. The safety of his embrace lulled her into a dreamless sleep while she focused on his slow breathing and the secure grip he had on her.
Zoro filled her senses so fiercely it was impossible not to melt into him, inhaling and exhaling in sync with him. 
The swordsman had different sentiments about this and they were all confusing. 
What am I doing? he scolded himself.
He moved his head and angled his face so he could look at the right side of her sleeping face. With long eyelashes resting over her soft cheeks, she looked like she didn't have a worry in the world, even if he knew better. Her shoulders would rise and fall rhythmically in such a slow pace, making him wonder what exactly exhausted her so much. 
Then, his gaze fell on the purple marks on her neck and his jaw clenched. If he would've been awake when Arlong appeared at Baratie, maybe none of them would be like that. Maybe he would've had enough stubbornness to get answers from Nami and maybe Luffy wouldn't have been so close to drowning. Maybe those marks on her neck wouldn't have been there in the first place. 
What the fuck am I doing? 
Giving up, he rested his head back against the cushions with a scowl. He didn't understand himself and it was even harder to understand the woman sleeping so peacefully, too close to him. 
Zoro let out a low displeased sound and closed his eyes, deciding to rest for a while. He didn't dare move away or wake her up either. 
First and foremost he was displeased about the fact that he liked the proximity. 
I wonder what that fishman's face looks like. It'll surely be a pleasure to slice him in half.  
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milkywayes · 3 months
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dreamt a cipher
a shepard/garrus post-destroy ending longfic.
I’ve debated a while about when to start posting this. Now it’s the new year, and I’ve been working on Cipher for over a year and a half, and I’ve waited long enough to start sharing it with you all. I’ve decided it’s finally time to start uploading while I work on the final chapters.
I started writing this before I ever drew a single piece of fanart for Mass Effect. It’s all the things that were bouncing around in my head after choosing the destroy ending with a mostly-paragon Shepard—consequence and responsibility and self-recrimination; her relationship with Garrus and with herself; their ties to each other and how much weight they can bear; their differing perspectives and how they slot together—all that fun stuff—compressed into a story, a place, a narrative. 
I believe in the power of love, and I promise a happy ending. They’ve just been taking the long way to get there. Feel free to yell at me in the meantime.
A huge thank you to @callista-curations for her meticulous and invaluable beta work, and to @that-wildwolf and @gammaraydeath for being the best hypemen I could ask for!
A more detailed list of warnings can be found on AO3.
I've posted the full cover art here.
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Summary:
Pairing: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian Rating: M (subject to change) Important Tags: post-destroy ending - angst with a happy ending - slow burn (of sorts) - arguing - reconciliation - survivor guilt - minor original characters Her own personal Noverian peak. That’s what it was supposed to be. Nothing but the discovery: no distractions, no comfort, no windows looking out—no familiar faces. But it's starting to look like her winning streak might have ended in that pile of Citadel rubble, if it ever extended that far to begin with. ──── “How does the Earth idiom go? No use beating a dead—” A long-suffering sigh. “What was it again?” “A dead horse. And yet, you’re here. Beating it.” Pot, kettle. She wishes he’d just fucking say it.
-> AO3.
Read the start of Chapter 1: Constant Velocity under the cut!
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The overhead lights flicker as they always do when the data screens are up and running. It’s not something one gets used to, even so. It stings at her ocular nerves—or something like that, anyway, somewhere along the delicate wires that extend from her eyeballs into her brain—but her focus on the data doesn’t waver.
“In that case,” says Shepard, squinting against the ache, “what we need is salvage from a relay outside the immediate burst zone. Four jumps away. Five, if possible. There’s no point to any of this if we can’t scrape together a control group.”
She glances back at Elsawy, who so far hasn’t made it more than a meter into the room. She nods without looking up from her omni-tool; orange shimmers off her shiny, black hair, giving her the uncomfortable air of a Cerberus operative. Not the worst comparison, except that Miranda would waste no time letting her know if her logic took a faulty turn somewhere. Elsawy’s just as likely to agree now and write a message detailing all her crap conclusions later.
Leaning her hip against the conference table, Shepard shifts her weight off her left leg, bites down on the sigh that almost manages to slip out. Once in the clear, she grouses, “Where the hell is Meyer? He’s the one that called this meeting.”
As it is, it’s three people in attendance and she’s the only one talking. She could’ve achieved the same results with a voice call from her quarters, where she could elevate her leg in peace and without witnesses. In the dark.
“Lab Two,” answers Elsawy, finally ripping her attention off the omni-screen and gracing Shepard with a second of eye contact. Maybe in another life she could appreciate the effort—Jesus, as if she hasn’t had her fill of lives already. “We’re close to a breakthrough on the initial output patterns. Sorry. He’s been feeding his data to me.”
“Right.” She blinks once, twice, in time with the flickering. It doesn’t help; it never does. “I’ll swing by later, then. Anything else he asked you to relay?” 
“Just that, Commander.” Elsawy is mumbling just enough that her voice has to compete with the drone of the air vents. The translator takes a second to filter out and amplify it. The result is less than perfect: “More salvage—” bzzrt—“bigger picture, you got it.” She narrows her eyes, and Shepard raises a brow. “Left leg or—” bzz!—“left hip?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Commander.”
“It’s nothing relevant,” she says pleasantly, forcing herself to stand up straight again. There’s a brief tremor shaking up her hamstrings; she waves a hand to distract from it. In the frenzy of the lights, the movement looks jerky, nervous. She soldiers on. “Old field injury. Unrelated. Anything can set it off.”
Funny, kind of, since it’s that very leg that ends in the most perfect, cooperative example of a foot she’s ever had the pleasure of treading on. It’s cloned; a replacement. Not the only one either. They should’ve just done away with the whole limb, but she hadn’t been consulted. Same with her trick shoulder. Not even Cerberus had managed to get that one back on the straight and narrow.
“I’d rather you bring it up with the doctor,” replies Elsawy. This is, apparently, what it takes for her to finally speak at a reasonable volume. “If we manage to fill even one of the data gaps…”
“I know,” she says. “I know, and I’m telling you, it’s unrelated.”
-> continue reading on AO3
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the-unforgivenn · 2 months
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CW: CW: More sunshine, less rain… with the exception of quite the thunderstorm in the middle. So sorry for that bit of angst. Other warnings include Brussels sprouts, running shoes, Dawn dish soap and attempted parallels between Mina Harker and Reader Mayfield ;)
Oh - and a well placed reference from Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas that may or may not have been mentioned in a previous chapter
Word Count: 19K
Summary: The last installment of the ridiculously long interlude
A/N: Buckle up, y'all - the amount of plot that happens in these next chapters is wild!! I can't wait to get them out to you! As always, thank you so much for all your support and patience. I love hearing from each and every one of you - if you're so inclined to leave some love, I swear it means the world and keeps me motivated
Masterlist
The Beginning
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part 3
Day 131
He should see this coming by now.
One good day – or days, if you’re lucky – is almost immediately followed by a restless night of terror and tears.  The nightmares still plague you, horribly so.  Robin was right, he’s mostly figured out what to say to help you through it, but tonight is different.
Tonight is by far your worst one to date.  It’s so bad that he rushes to his parent’s room to use their phone that sits on the dresser, calling Steve in the dead of night to come over and help.  There’s something different about the way you scream and wail and mutter under your breath to who knows what — and it fucking frightens Gareth to his very core.  
It’s almost like you look right through him, the way you don’t see him as he calls your name, over and over, trying to bring you back to where you are, where you’re safe – with him.
He has no idea what’s going on – thinks it may be a legitimate night terror but – something seems really, really off.
Steve agrees, even after you fall back asleep.  Soon, the older boy is guiding Gareth back into his room, promising over and over how he can take care of you for the evening.  Steve’s happy to give the younger man a chance to catch up on much-needed sleep, and initially, Gareth relents.
And then, he tosses and turns.  
Stares at the ceiling.
Buries his wide-awake head in a pillow with a frustrated huff.
Decides once he hears you whine again through two sets of shut doors that it’s going to be another sleepless night.  He’s happy to be there, holding tightly to your hand while Steve whispers the words to help slay the beasts inside your mind.
Day 133
It’s the third night of all four of you — Steve, Gareth, Robin and you – in his bed.  Well, his parent’s bed.  He swapped rooms for the occasion.  Frankly, he had to – that king-size mattress allowed comfort for all when everyone stayed, just in case things got worse.  
Robin’s presence made you feel so much better, that was obvious; and that first night after that night, you snuck into Gareth’s room and asked if he’d hate it if you stayed in his bed with him.
“And maybe,” you whispered into the ringlets that now reach well past his ears, “could Robs be in here, too?”
He couldn’t help how his sleepy snicker tumbled over his lips.  “If you want Rob in here, you know we’ll get Harrington.”
So, that’s how Gareth’s arm ended up under your shoulders with your head on his chest, his fingers resting softly against the back of Robin’s neck that was curled over the slope of your arm. The younger girl snuggles near your chin, her lithe body slotted perfectly in little spoon position against Steve, who’s dominant arm lay slung low across both of your waists.  
If someone were to tell him that he’d be sharing a bed with a really cool band nerd, an amazing chick from California who he considers his best friend and goddamn King Steve Harrington just three short years after he entered high school, he would have laughed in their stupid fucking face.
Day 136
The first swipe of an eyeshadow brush against your delicate upper lid is always jarring, no matter how well you try to brace yourself for the impact.  Twitching slightly under her steady hand as Nancy paints a shimmery beige on your skin, your makeup artist inhales a sharp, dainty breath.
“Oh, I’m sorry!”
“‘S fine,” you breathe; the next sweep is lighter than the last, but you’re used to the touch by now.  “I always flinch like that.”
She snorts softly, resuming her careful movement to add a darker shade of indigo to the corners.  “Me, too.  Especially when someone else does it.” 
Robin hums in agreement from where she stands behind you, and you can feel her measuring and re-measuring the strands pinched between her long fingers.  Taking a breath, she verifies again that you’re okay with her next move.
“I’m about to cut,” she says warily, “you sure you’re good with it?”
A firm, confident mmhm is pressed between your lips as you remain statuesque for Nancy and her eyeliner pencil.  “I'm sure,” you promise, “it’s just a trim, anyway.  It needs to be done.”
“I know, I know.  You said it’s just a trim and I know it’s not that big of a deal,” Robin’s hands jitter nervously in front of her face.  “Just double-checking. I feel like I need to double-check.”
“No, you’ve checked six times,” El clarifies softly from her perch on the spacious bathroom vanity.  “What would that be called?”
Erica doesn’t even look up from her artistry on your toenails as she quips flatly, “Being a worrywart.”
“Oh, I’m sorry for wanting to make supremely sure that my dear sweet friend is okay with me butchering her beautiful hair,” Robin snarks with a grin.  She leans down to your ear, just as Nancy finishes tracing your lower lash line.  “You are sure you’re okay with it, right?”
Your nose wrinkles fondly at your friend while Erica shakes her head.  “Yeah, Robs.  I’m one hundred percent sure.  Do your worst.”
Robin groans, tugging genially on your hair as El looks at you quizzically.  “Why would you want Robin to do her worst?”
Kind chuckles from the girls float around Steve Harrington’s hall bath, mingling with the gentle snick, snick of Robin’s scissors and Erica’s quick-witted explanation of tongue-in-cheek phrasing to El.  The next twenty minutes pass in heartwarming camaraderie, each young woman in the bathroom set on making sure you’re truly ready for your first “big” outing since – 
Well, since.
Steve’s house is the perfect location, and the perfect partygoers downstairs couldn’t be any more familiar.  Still, that churning, lonesome ache in your gut doesn’t subside, not even when Robin exclaims that she’s done and not messed anything up, not when Erica confirms your dried toenails are now a gorgeous shade of coral pink, and not when Nancy hands you a piece of toilet paper to blot any excess lip color from your pout.
Despite your best efforts, you yearn for two more faces – one that should be in the bathroom seated next to El, and one that should be holding court with his buddies downstairs.  
But they’re not, and so the corners of your mouth are downturned in a deep frown.
“Are you doing all right?” El asks carefully, sliding from the sink to slip in front of where you sit on the edge of the tub.  
The smile you attempt is shriveled, untended and unfamiliar.  “I am, yeah.”
“You sure?  We could go downstairs with the boys,” Erica offers as she paints one last pale pink layer across your thumbnail.  “Give you a minute, if you need one.  Even though they’re all super lame.” 
Robin grins, nodding sagely.  “That’s a good idea.  Head on down and tell them we’ll be there in a bit.”  She runs her hands through the choppy layers around your face one more time.  “And tell them not to make a big deal about us coming down.”  She pauses, her mouth twisting wryly.  “Especially Emerson.”
Nancy balks, halting the ascent of the mascara wand to your lashes halfway.  “Robin.”
“What?”  Robin cocks her head to the side as her fingers fluff the hair at the crown on your head, studying as it lays.  “You know he’s gonna flip out –”
Erica groans loudly, a purposeful interruption as she stands.  “Yeah, yeah.  We’ll tell ‘em not to get their panties in a twist.  We get it.”
Watching as the younger girls go, Nancy waits until the door clicks shut before rounding on Robin.  “Don’t tease about that kind of stuff.  They might get the wrong idea.”
You huff an amused noise through your nose.  “What, that Gareth’s a bit dramatic?”  
“No,” Nancy leans in, applying a layer of mascara and feathers out the corners of your eyes, “more like… protective.”
Protective.  The thought of it is almost funny – a vigilant Gareth, as imposing as a guard dog, barking at the heels of anyone that gave you trouble – or in this instance, too much attention.  It somewhat soothes the ache still tugging at the bones of your chest.  Sure, he can be a bit brash; pretty dramatic as well.  But protective?
Robin’s musing interrupts your thoughts.  “Protective is one way to put it, yeah –”
“Robin Buckley –”
“Oh, what,” Robin laughs at your vexed, blue-eyed friend, nudging at the tension in her shoulder.  “Like I’m wrong?”
Their stilted banter puzzles you, and your eyebrows furrow as apprehension creeps into your tone.  “Is it?”
“Is it what?”
You swallow heavily, darting your worried stare from one set of blue to another.  “Is it wrong?  That… that he’s – that I’m… y’know, there –”
“You mean, living at his house?” Nancy supplies carefully.
Your heart rate kicks up to a furious pace, nodding once before trying to suck in the breath that is suddenly impossible to catch.
“If not there,” Nancy inquires fairly, “where would you be?”
You lift a shoulder in an ambiguous shrug.  “Steve’s?”
“I think we’d be saying the same thing about him, then.”  Nancy leans against the vanity.  “Same as if you were living at my house.”
Robin seems to agree.  “And mine.”
“Exactly,” Nancy says firmly, capping the mascara and leaning forward to take your hands in hers.  “Sure, Gareth’s protective of you. So is everyone else that’s sitting downstairs.”  She taps her chest for emphasis.  “We’re protective of you.”  Her mouth sets into a hard line as she steals a look at the younger girl.  “That’s all.”
“Yep!”  Robin ducks her head and gives you a sheepish smile.  “That’s all.”
It’s oddly satisfying to hear this from your girlfriends, your confidants… although one could argue that recently, that role has been filled by a one sandy-haired metalhead turned roommate.  There doesn’t seem to be any judgment from the two women that flank your sides, still fussing over you like you’re something to be treasured.  That’s when it hits you – you are glad to be there.  Content to be in the company of people that truly care about you.
Touched to be in the presence of family.
Nancy pats your shoulder once she’s finished, rising from her seated position to head towards the door.  A fleeting thought becomes a split-second decision, and you straighten your spine to summon the courage to ask,
“Hey Robs, did you – um, did you cut your own bangs?”
“Oh, yeah!” Robin exclaims, her hand automatically going to tease the tousled tresses that lie in stylish disarray over her forehead.  “I did.  Super easy.  Super, super easy.  Why?”
*
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
A surge of irritation paints Gareth’s cheeks red.  “Yes, Henderson,” he grits as he pinches the tongs around a well-done hot dog to move it off the flame, “I happen to be doing a shitload of grilling this summer and I think I can handle a few hot dogs.”
“Yeah, but it’s not just that,” Dustin whines, gesturing to the grate.  “You’ve got like, so much food on here.”
He smacks the younger boy’s hand away from the metal spatula.  “I don’t, it’s all cooking fine.  Leave me alone.”
“Well, I’m just making sure because it looks like the hot dogs and brats aren’t letting the burgers get enough heat, and I still don’t know why you threw the corn cobs on there without shucking them first –”
Gareth groans to the evening sky.  “Revoked,” he snarls, “Henderson, your loitering privileges have been revoked.”  He gives the younger Hellfire member a tiny shove.  “Go away.  Go toss yourself in the pool. Jesus.”
Dustin stalks off, muttering something to Jeff as he passes, who snickers into the lip of his bottle.  “Y’seem a little tense, Gare.”
“Oh, shut it.  I’m fine.”
“Having fun?”
“Yeah,” Gareth says flatly, “great time.”
The older boy nudges Gareth’s shoulder.  “Dude, she’s just upstairs.”  
He knows Jeff is right, but it doesn’t stop him from worrying.  Sensing this, Jeff is sure to add, “With Robin and Nancy.  She’s okay.”
Gareth chews on his lip and on his words, popping his lips open just to close them again before he turns back to the grill and rolls his eyes.  “I know, but they didn’t see her the last time we tried to do something.  She –” he exhales sharply through his nose to stop himself.  Instead of bitching about it, he grumbles as he idly pokes around with his tongs.  “Jus’ dunno what’s taking so long.”
“They’re chicks,” Jeff surmises with a shrug.  “They take a long time.”
Gareth mumbles in disagreement under his breath, taking care to pile the well-roasted hot dogs on a plate.  Initially, he fails to hear what catches Jeff’s attention – the subtle scrape and drag of the sliding door coupled with the slow fading of conversation finally has Gareth glancing over his shoulder.
Doing a double take.
Dropping the full plate of food to clatter on the bricked patio floor.
“Fuck –”
It’s not an exclamation, or a curse for losing the better part of dinner for the group.  It’s a reverent breath, an utterance through a jaw that hangs slack at the sight of you backlit by the light in Steve’s kitchen.  It’s you in a navy blue sundress and buttercream sandals that accent the tiny yellow rosebuds dotting the fabric, flowing in perfect form over your curves even as it’s twisted through your nervous fingers.  It’s you whose hair is now freshly trimmed, curled and styled to frame your face in a way he’s never ever seen before; punctuated by a new fringe that delicately dusts your forehead and accentuates how your ardent eyes stare at him.
You.  You and your manicured nails and charcoal-lined eyes and glossy lips are staring directly at him.
He barely registers the loud crack of the Corelle plate or how a dozen or so hotdogs scatter at his feet before he’s crossing the short distance to the door to gather you into his arms.  He does, however, breathe a long sigh of relief when you return the ferocity of his hug, shifting his arms over your torso to bring you impossibly closer.
Gareth also hears how Dustin groans in dramatic exasperation before whining to Lucas, “What the shit are we gonna eat now?”
He snorts into the soft skin of your neck, and his heart does a funny little kick when he catches a whiff of perfume.  “Oh, hun –”
“Don’t you fucking say anything,” you practically growl into his ringlet curls, “I think I’m going to cry as it is, and I’m so, so sick of crying.” 
Shoulders shaking, he chuckles softly as he promises, “I won’t.”  
But he can’t.  He has so much to say, so much he’s feeling, so much he wants to tell you and therefore the silence only lasts a beat before Gareth is murmuring sweetly into your ear, “I’m so proud of you.”
Your forehead thunks against his shoulder, the whimper you push out sounds petulant.  “I told you not to say anything.”
“Oh, bite me,” he retorts softly, tilting his head just so in order to catch your gaze, “I’m really happy right now.”
The crooked grin on his face softens the pout on yours.  “You’re gonna ruin my mascara, you ass.”
His watery whatever tumbles over his lips when he swipes a lone tear from your expertly shaded lid.  “Happy to ruin it for this.”
“That’s not the goddamn point.”  
Gareth sighs, swiping one last errant tear from the corner of your eye.  “It kinda is, hun.”
*
“Did… um, did you and Eddie ever go to the pool?”
Gareth furrows his brows as he turns to you.  “What?”
Your hands grip the plastic rim along the border of the shallow end, balancing you as you lean forward slightly to look at the bottom.  
“Did he like to swim?”
He shakes his head, making his curls bounce over his cheeks as he scoffs lightly.   The summer sun has turned them lighter, almost as light as Robin’s.   
“No.  God, no.  Dude’s like a cat, completely water averse.”
You absorb this information silently.  “I think he liked being around it fine.  Just – not in it?”
“Yeah.  Exactly.”
You sniff wetly, running your hand under your nose.  Warmth ripples gently around your calves as you swing your legs, relishing in the comfort of the water and the tranquility of the summer night.  Steve’s backyard is empty, save for the two of you.  The kids have all gone home in Nancy’s vehicle and Jeff, Steve and Robin are the only ones left inside, gathered around the kitchen counter, finishing off the rest of the beer.  
Your eyes stay trained on the shimmering surface, illuminated a washed-out yellow by the underwater light at the base of the ladder.  
“I didn’t know that about him.  I don’t know a lot of things.”
“Well, that’s one more thing you do?” He proceeds with an abundance of caution.  “Do you want me to tell you about when we all got high at Rick’s and I, ah – was a huge dick and shoved him off the dock?”
“That didn’t happen.”
“Wh – yeah, it did.”
“G, c’mon," you scoff softly.  “No way you were ever a dick.”
A genuine belly laugh is shocked out of Gareth as you grin, you full-on fucking grin at your own joke, leaning into his side as he begins to tell the story.  As he wraps his arm around your waist, he chastises himself internally – he should have known you would have appreciated stories like this.
It’s a good thing he’s got years worth of them to tell you.
*
Robin nudges Steve and angles her chin through the glass door toward the pool deck where you and Gareth sit.  
“Think there’s something going on there?”
Steve regards you without judgment.  His eyes are curious, watching your face split into a smile as you lean into Gareth’s shoulder.  The corner of Steve’s mouth crooks up when he sees Gareth’s elated expression as he extends his arm to rest around your middle and pull you close.
“Not on her part.”
RobIn’s owl eyes are brimming with concern. “Should we tell him to be careful?”
Jeff barks a laugh, but it’s devoid of humor.  “He doesn’t listen.”  His dark eyes flick to his new friends as he lifts a shoulder.  “He’s a big boy.  He can figure it out for himself.”
She purses her lips, sadly able to read between the lines.  “I just don’t want anyone to get hurt.  That’s all.”
Jeff shrugs, peeling the label from his bottle and crumpling it through deft fingers.  “Yeah, I don’t either, but…”
Steve understands.  “He’s not dumb.  He knows how careful he needs to be.”
Jeff nods in silent agreement while Robin’s stare falls to the table.  “I’m just so tired of everyone hurting.”
Steve steps closer to his best friend and tucks her in under his arm to kiss the top of her head.  
“Yeah.  Me too.”
Day 138
Sunlight streaks in alternating patterns across the hardwood in the sunroom, the glare now more pronounced than before.  The fumes from the Pledge cleaner still hang in the air, an overstated and overpowering lemony scent.  Though it kinda gives you a headache, you can’t help the nostalgia that tickles the deepest part of your brain.  It’s welcome as much as it is lonesome, and as you wash your hands at the sink in the kitchen, something about it finally has you arriving where you’ve been meaning to go for a while now.
“Hey, Gareth?” you call to him as he sits in the den, “what’s your PA’s name?”
His eyebrows raise in hopeful surprise.  “Kate,” he clicks the volume down on the TV to make sure you’ve heard.  “Kate McNeil.”
“And you say she’s cool?”
“Yeah.  The coolest.”
You snort, crossing your arms over your chest.  “You’re a dork.”  Sighing as you toss the dish towel to the counter, you ask, “Can you give me her number?”
“Of course I can.”
There was no doubt in your mind that he would, but there’s one more thing you’d like to ask of him, and… well, you’re pretty sure he’s not gonna be on board.  It’s asking quite a lot, and there’s a part of you that wonders if you’ll be crossing some imaginary friendship line if you do.
You’ve resolved to ask – you’ve decided it’s time and this is going to help you get there. 
“Will you be with me?”
As predicted, Gareth looks like a blue-eyed deer in the headlights.  “You want me there?”
“I do, G.”  
Your fear of the unknown seems to be as strong as Gareth’s fear of overstepping.  The tilt of his head jostles his ringlets as he asks, “Are you sure?”
“Please?”
“Yeah, yeah.  Of course I will.”
Your unspoken gratitude hangs heavy in the citrus-stained air, making it harder to swallow the emotion in your throat.  The joke you long to make hesitates behind your lips before it’s freed.
“If she sucks, you owe me brinner again.”
Gareth groans and flops back against the cushions.  “And when she doesn’t, we’re eating brinner anyway.  As long as it’s eggs and bacon…”
“Nope.”
“Oh, my god,” Gareth’s gone boneless, a lamenting mess of watery limbs that melt into a puddle on the family room floor.  “I can’t stomach any more fucking pancakes –”
“And peanut butter.”
“You’re so fucking weird.”
The grin that’s plastered to your face is brighter than the glare off the polished wood.  “And yet, this weirdo somehow always gets her pancakes.”
*
Gareth smiles to himself as he rinses the syrup from the corelle plate, stealing a glance at you as you lie on the couch, waiting for him to join you while you watch the end of the Cubs game.
He was right, of course.  You and Kate bonded well, for a first time meeting.
You assured him that she indeed didn’t suck, and that you’d keep your follow-up appointment in three weeks.  
He was right.  
And yet here he is, cleaning up the remnants of his favorite weirdo’s preferred brinner: Bisquick pancakes and fucking Smucker’s peanut butter, like the goddamn pushover he is.
Suppose there are worse things, he thinks.
Day 139
Gareth finds you outside after dinner around the fire pit, mad as a hatter.  There’s no real rhyme or reason behind it; you’ve told him you’re just in a really pissed off mood, and there’s nothing he can do about it.  
Which is fine, really.  He’s fine to sit with you and offer support in silence, if needed.  
He realizes you’re holding the unnamed piano song you’ve been working on, and without preamble, you toss it in the fire.  Gareth swears under his breath, snatching it as it lands in the center of the logs and blows out the small flames that lick at the edges.
“Just let it go, Gareth.  It’s shit, anyway.”
“No.”
“Yeah, it is.  Let the stupid shit burn.”
“Stop calling your work stupid.”
“What does it matter, anyway?  Not like it’s gonna bring them back.  Corroded Coffin is done.  Dead.”
Your words sting, a shallow slice through his heart.  He swallows hard as he considers his next words carefully.  
“How about you sleep on it?”
It doesn’t matter how kindly he speaks to you, the irritation rises in a reactive snarl regardless.
“How about you –” Your retort gets lost in your throat.  Your hardened eyes are set on his, debating to finish your sentence or just keep silent.
Gareth takes a chance and slips you a tiny smile.
“Oh, wipe that fucking grin off your face and you try sleeping on it, Emerson.”
He nearly laughs at the sound of your sass.
Day 140
The beautiful morning is a complete contradiction to the sour look that still paints your face.  It’s obvious sleeping on it like he suggested didn’t help much at all.  When your second cup of coffee doesn’t fade the scowl from your lips, he joins you in your sulking.
Silently, of course.  He’s not an idiot. He knows you well enough now to let you work through it, but also knows that you want him nearby while you do.
Dulcet notes twinkle in the air as you huddle at your end of the couch in the sunroom, his tuning of the acoustic guitar an easy task with how much it’s been played lately.  He can feel your eyes on him, but he’s yet to look up.
He knows if he did, he’d give himself away immediately.
Biting at the inside of his lower lip to keep his expression neutral, Gareth adjusts his fingers on the fretboard and plays a feathery, folky rendition of the opening chords to Walk.
Your body goes rigid, eyelids flaring wide in disbelief as you turn to fully face him on the couch.  Strumming a few more chords, Gareth finally allows his gaze to be pulled in by yours that’s just dripping with a look that positively screams, what in the fuck.
He maintains his innocence, fighting the smirk that tugs at his lips.  “What?”
The snort that’s pushed through your nose isn’t enough to hide your smile.  “You little shit,” you mutter into your mug, the ceramic lip fails to conceal how widely you’re grinning.
It spurs him on, has him downpicking with more fervor.  “Y’gonna sing it with me?”
“No,” you retort without hesitation – 
– only to make it to the second go-round of the chorus before he’s got you belting the lyrics, the wobbly harmonies dancing happily off the vaulted ceilings and out the open windows into the warm summer air.
Day 142
He hears it before he sees it. 
Or, more aptly, smells it. 
The telltale rhythmic shriek of a smoke alarm is heard even through the thickness of the mudroom door.  Gareth’s not even sure he’s shut the driver’s side door behind him, he flies through the garage and into the kitchen to one of the more bizarre things he’s seen in recent memory. 
You’re cussing a blue streak as an oven mitt flaps uselessly in front of the opened oven which practically is pouring acrid, charcoal-gray smoke into the room.  The smell is awful. Like, fucking awful. It’s a moment before you clear enough of the billowing black before you’re able to grab the root of the problem: a cookie sheet lined with scorched parchment paper and dotted with the charred remnants of…
Well, he’s not quite sure what it is. Or was, anyway.  It’s been burned well beyond recognition, and given how it stinks to high heaven, he's pretty sure you’ve both been ruined for life for whatever the hell it is. 
A little yelp snaps Gareth out of his shocked haze, flinching as the cookie sheet clatters against the stovetop.  Simultaneous exclamations of shit! mingle with the smoke, and he guides you to the sink to run your burned skin under the ice cold tap. 
Once he’s assessed that you have your scalded fingers under control, he fights back a gag, the smoke feels like it’s blistering the back of his throat as he races to the windows.  Throwing one open after another, he breathes in lungfuls of fresh air before making a mad dash back to the kitchen, where he finds you predictably sniffling as those fingers continue to chill.
“Hey,” he proceeds cautiously, “are you okay?”
The tip of your nose is already red, the flush in your cheeks a marquee of your distress.  You nod anyway, avoiding his stare, especially when he sweetly murmurs your name over a compassionate sigh.
“Look at me, then.”
There’s a crack in your exterior.  He senses it before it happens – before the wobble of your chin, before the stubborn mashing of lips and before another onslaught of tears wets the delicate skin under your eyes.  
Doing what he can to make it better, his hand runs a comforting line between tense shoulders.  “Honey, it’s okay –”
The noise that bubbles over your lips is just as much of a scoff as it is a sob.  “It’s not okay!”  You gesture in a fit to the smoldering balls of coal on the stovetop.  “I wanted to make us dinner for fucking once and – and I’ve never used a gas stove and I didn’t realize there’s a literal flame at the fucking top –”
Gareth pulls you into a hug, burying his smile into the top of your head.  He’s not sure what you’re rambling on about, nor does it really matter.  It’s not so much that you’re crying, but angry at the turn of events, and the frustrated tears that dry fast on your face are met with a multitude of assurances from him.  Gareth’s quick to tell you it’s fine, Brussels sprouts were meant to be broiled beyond recognition because no one in their right mind would eat them, anyway.
He chuckles as your arms circle his waist.  “Who bought those?”
“Robin did.”
He has to strain to hear it, your mumbling against his chest, and his face twists with incredulity once he’s deciphered the identity of the vegetable culprit.  “Why?”
“Because I told her to!”  Your tears have long dried, replaced with a goofy grin that makes his stomach flip.  Your chin rests on his chest, eyes sparkling as you quip, “Because they’re healthy?”
Tipping his head back on his shoulders, he guffaws to the ceiling fan, overworked already at dissipating the lingering smoke in the kitchen.  “Why would you do that?  Are we on some sort of health food kick that I’m unaware of?”
The light in his toothy smile has you stammering, still holding your body to his as you rationalize, “I thought being healthy would be good!”
“Why?”  Gareth gives you a glare chock full of faux resentment down his nose.  “Are you trying to tell me something?”
“What?  No!”
“Oh, whatever,” he drawls, dropping his arms from where they wrapped around your shoulders.  He gestures down his body with a dramatic flutter of his unfairly long eyelashes.  “Is this your way of telling me I need to watch my girlish figure?” 
“What?”  Your hand claps to your mouth as you stifle a sound that sounds remarkably like a laugh.  “No!  I swear to you, I wasn’t.  You look fine!”
“Ohhh –” Gareth elongates the vowel, tilting his head with coquettish flair.  “So my girlish figure looks fine?”
Your eyes flick down his form, widening over words that babble and bubble in a nonsensical stream over lips stretched wide in a grin.  “I – you’re, I mean – it’s hardly – oh, my god.”  He cackles at your bumbling, and you cross your arms defensively over your chest.  “I just thought a change from pizza would be good!”
“Well,” he chuffs over a laugh that seems to emanate from his toes.  “You were clearly right.”
“I think I was!  If it wouldn’t have been a gas oven –”
“Oh, don’t you dare bring the poor, innocent oven into this –”
“Gareth!” you huff his name in a thick cloud of amusement.  “I am two seconds away from kicking your ass!”
He leans forward, just a hair farther into your space than before.  His voice drops an octave.  “Bring it, Mayfield, I can take it.” 
A well-placed shove to his sternum has him reeling back a step.  “Yeah,” you gruff genially.  “We’ll see about that.”
It’s as if his smile is permanently tattooed on his face.  He’s so happy, he’s so happy seeing you so happy, and so he doesn’t think before he says, 
“I’m just thrilled to see you up.”
You know what he means.  You really do – but it doesn’t stop your face from falling.  Heavy realization of his words weighs down your expression and pulls it into a deep frown, because you know he’s right.  You’re painfully aware of how much of a ball of sadness and misery you’ve been over the last five months – and his awareness of it stings just as much as yours.
Gareth looks stricken, his face drains of all color as he stumbles over an apology.  “Sorry.  I – fuck, I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have said it like that…”
Blinking rapidly, you wave him off.  “No, I know.  You’re right.”  The truth is viscous like smoke and has you choking over your words. “I – I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“Nothing is wrong with you,” his voice is roughened by his own emotion as he searches for the right thing to say.  “I think it’s called grief, hun.”
“Yeah.  When does it stop being so… excruciating?”
Gareth’s shoulders drop in defeat as he admits softly, “I don’t know.”
Day 142, night
The ear-splitting scream that rips him from the clutches of his deep sleep is worse than anything he’s ever heard from you before.
It sounds as if you’re being torn apart at the seams, desperate in the anguish so loud it could curl the paint on the walls.  Gareth bursts into your room, yelping in shock when he sees you’re on the floor, thrashing about the tangle of cotton that wraps around your form like thick vines.   
Without hesitation, his arms are around you, shucking layers of sheets and blankets to free your flailing limbs.  “Hey, hey – it’s okay, it’s okay I got you, Mayfield.  I’m here, I’m right here.”
He winces as you claw at his arms, drawing yourself closer as your tears soak his shirt.  Suddenly, your spine straightens, shoving him away with a grunted no.  Kicking off what remains of the blankets from your legs, some of the material clings to the sweat and tangles them, further frustrating you.
“No, no, no –”
“Hey, woah,” his body rocks as your forearm connects against his chest, “what – it’s okay –”
Gareth can hardly make out the vehement stream of muttering that flows from your mouth.  “No – m’not, fucking – no, jus’ stop –”
“Mayfield, it’s me, hey,” he fights to keep his hold around your body, “it’s okay!”
“No!”  You shout, startling a strangled gasp out of him.  “Stop saying it’s fucking okay!  It’s not fucking okay!  Nothing about this is okay!”
He relents, allowing you to wrestle out of his grasp.  “All right! All right, just –”
“Why didn’t you promise me, huh?”
The question thrust at him is spit with such anger that he freezes.  Gareth wracks his brain, trying to recall what promises he hasn’t made good on for you – and he’s left without a trace of an answer. 
“What?”
“You avoided it!” you shriek as you try to maneuver your legs under your body to stand.  “You wouldn't say it and I let you!  You never promised me you’d come back and – and – I should have made you promise!”
None of what you’re saying makes sense.  He hurries to his feet along with you.  “Mayfield, it’s – it’s Gareth.  You know that, right?”
It worries him greatly that you’ve really yet to make eye contact, reminding him of the night several weeks prior where you hardly had a handle on where you were.  It’s eerily reminiscent, the way your dilated pupils dart around, searching for answers he knows you won’t find hiding in the darkened corners of the room.
“No, just stop, don’t.  Don’t!”  You stumble back a step, chest heaving over the breath you just can’t catch.  “I don’t – I don’t want you in here!”
“You just had a nightmare,” Gareth reasons gently as he tries to lend a comforting hand to your arm.  “I’m not gonna –”
Your palm connects in a flash to his bare skin, and he immediately shrinks away from the contact.  “No!” you shout with a furious shake of your head. “Fuck, stop – please!  You’re not making anything better!”  In a whirlwind of whipping extremities, he takes another step back as your words continue their assault.    “This isn’t right, this isn’t at all – fuck, fuck!”  Desperation singes the raw tissue of your throat as you wail, “Where is Eddie?  Where is he?”
“Mayfield!  Hey, honey – stop!”  Watching as you still, he grabs the opportunity to ground you.  His broad hands land softly on both shoulders.  “Hey now,” he’s firm but so gentle in how he asks, “where do you think you are?”
You don’t hear a word he’s said; and now there’s an urgency to your actions, to the sharpness of your tone that has you lashing out all the more.  “Don’t fucking touch me!” you snap, causing Gareth to recoil as if you’ve burned his hands.  “I told you to go away!  I need the sheet, the rope – where is it?”
His stomach plummets to his feet.  Okay, what the fuck – now he’s really concerned.  “Rope?”
“You –” 
It’s as if you’re seeing him for the first time.  Bleary, bloodshot eyes lock in with his, blinking away the sting of tears before tearing your gaze away to search.  For what, he’s not sure – but it’s frightening how  abnormally fast they dart over your surroundings.  
“No,” you rasp helplessly, “he’s – where is he?”
He grapples for anything, everything he can in order to make it clear he’s right here in front of you.  “I’m not gonna go away.  I’m staying, hun – you’re worrying me and I gotta make sure –”
“No!” you wail, louder this time.  “God damn it, just fucking leave!  I don’t want you following me around like a lost little puppy all the time!”
A devastating wave of dread slams into his chest as he croaks, “What?”
Any doubt he had of your knowledge of his presence dissolves.  “I don’t want this!  I didn’t ask for any of this, I want to go home!”
“Hun, please –”
What you say next is soaked in so much vinegar he hardly recognizes your voice.  A roughened, caustic version of the Mayfield he knows steps into his space, so angry that your teeth are bared like a rabid dog’s.
“Stop fucking calling me that!  I’m not your – I’m not your anything, Gareth!”  The screaming only intensifies, your cadence almost mocking as your arms flail in the minute space between you for emphasis.  “Stop all of the comforting and the listening and the cooking and the carrying me into fucking bathtubs already!”
Trembling where he stands, he struggles to keep his balance.  His mind is reeling, struggling to catch up.  “Christ, all right, I — I won’t call you that, I’m sorry…”
The docility in how fast he relents has you mercifully lowering your tone.  “I want you to stop.  Stop all of it,” you rasp as the first tears spill over your lids.  “I can’t, I can’t have you doing this, it’s – it’s fucking pathetic.”  There’s such rage that flares behind the whites of your eyes as you state your next thought forcefully, like a threat.  “You’re not my goddamn boyfriend.”
Gareth’s jaw swings open.  “Yeah, I – I know –” 
“Do you, though?” you sneer, almost taunting, in a way.  Swiftly, you remind him, “You’re not, you’re not even fucking close.  I need him, not you.” 
Gareth is abruptly hit with years worth of self-doubt brought about by living in the shadow of the enigma that was Eddie Munson.  It rushes in droves to the surface, the long-repressed feelings of being not enough, of being overlooked, of second fucking best – and he has to fight back his own tears as he assures you that he knows.  He gets it, he understands that it’s Eddie, it’s been Eddie and it’ll always be Eddie.  That isn’t what makes him physically ill to consider – it’s the thought of him coming across as needing something more from you.  
He doesn’t, he can’t – he wouldn’t.  Gareth knows he can’t fill that hole that Eddie left behind in your heart, and the thought of you thinking otherwise has his stomach twisting in knots.  
Which is why he retorts without a moment’s hesitation, “I know!” 
“No you don’t!” you wail, angrily swiping away another tear off your cheek.  “You don’t know anything!  You’re so far into this fantasy of playing fucking house that you can’t see what’s right in front of you –”
“Mayfield –”
“I love Eddie, NOT YOU!” you bellow with so much ferocity that it sends a chill down his spine.  “Get away from me!  You’re not my boyfriend!”
Something inside him snaps.  “I know I’m not your boyfriend,” he roars, “I know, okay?  I’m trying to be your friend!”
“I don’t need you.  I have friends!”
He nearly scoffs as you make his point for him.  “Yes, you do,” he slaps an open palm against his chest, “I’m right here!  Steve and Robin will be here if you want them to be –”
“That’s where I should be!  I should be with them, but I’m not because I’m here – you selfishly kept me here like your sad little pet!”  Your accusations are wild, drawn from places he’s heartbroken to know exist.  “You have no idea what we went through!”
And there it is again.  The knowledge rift.  The gaping gash in your relationship that bleeds secrets you refuse to share – secrets that he knows would answer so many of the questions that still swirl around in his brain.  He’s so sick of not knowing, but the fear of losing you outweighed any of the desire for the truth.  So he put up with it and kept his fucking mouth shut.
Now?  He’s so tired that he raises that white flag without hesitation.  “Yeah, I know I don’t.”  He doesn’t bother tacking on a vehement because you won’t tell me – that futile phrase wouldn’t convince you otherwise, and that’s the truth.  “I – I don’t know…” Gareth trails off, scrubbing his hand down his face in defeat.  “Fuck, Mayfield, I’ll call them if that’s what you want.”
“You know what I want?” The way you ask is sharp, digging into his flesh as your upper lip curls with malice.  “I want you to realize that you’re not him.”
For a moment, he thinks you mean Steve until that familiar wobble of your chin takes over and you’re crying in earnest.  “You’ll never be him, Gareth!  You won’t ever replace him!”
You’ve completely blindsided him.  He always worried that he was being too much – too close, too comforting, too touchy – but not one bit of your interactions over the last several months told him to stop.  It relieved him when you sought him out for solace in an embrace or a tiny kiss into the crown of your head.  He’s never lost sight of who you really want, who you really deserve – and so he tried very hard to keep up those walls and to toe that invisible line between being your solace and nothing more.  
He’s ruined it, tarnished the platonic nature of his friendship with you because he couldn’t stop himself from offering that physical comfort he thought you needed.  Given how you responded to it in the woods the first time he witnessed a panic attack, he thought it was a no-brainer.  His touch is what you needed, this is what your mind and body responded to and fuck, he was ready.  Willing.  Desperate to help in any way he could so he could chase that terrible feeling of uselessness out of his chest that infected him daily like a disease.
Instead, he made you feel uncomfortable – has you thinking that he selfishly wanted more from you and it has him reeling.  “No, please – I never, ever expected to be that – I didn’t, please –”
“Oh, shut up!” you screech.  “Just stop –”
If there’s anything left to salvage, he’s sure as shit going to try.  “I’m trying to be there for you the best way I know how – li-like a friend would –”
You cut him off, a white-hot blade through his flesh.  “You’re not my fucking friend!”  
The powerful statement lingers in the air, a tense moment of silence between two people who stand at odds at the end of the guest room bed.  Gareth’s mouth is dry, he’s unable to swallow down the bile that rises traitorously in his throat.  It chokes him, the lack of air and the ringing in his ears scrambles his senses to a point where all he can gasp out is, 
“I’m not?”
Apparently, you’re not done twisting the knife that you’ve plunged in his gut.  “Why did you take me away from Max and have me stay here?”
“N-no,” he’s positively horrified, “I didn’t take you, Mayfield!”
You throw your arms up, gesturing to your surroundings.  “Why am I here then, huh?” 
This is easy.  This should be easy.  At the time, it felt like the easiest thing in the world, to have you here with him while your worlds crumbled all around.  It was good – it is good – or, that’s truly what he believed until tonight.  
Gareth believes with all of who he is, who his momma raised him to be that he was doing it to be there for you.  If he could just get his mouth to fucking form the words.  But instead, they remain stuck in the tight ball of despair that’s lodged in his throat.
“Be-because,” he stammers, “I uh, I thought –”
“I missed it,” your jaw clenches as you whisper, “I missed it wh-when she – I wasn’t there when she died because I was here.  Because of you.”
His body can’t keep up, not with the rate his heart is stuttering in his chest.  “God,” he croaks over a jagged inhale, “I didn’t know –”
“I hate you for keeping me here.”
“Keeping?  You feel like I’ve forced you to –”  
“I hate you for it,” you say again, “I hate you for taking me from Max and I hate you for being all these things that you’re not and I hate you for being in the studio where you weren’t supposed to be and just standing there and – and watching.”  There’s real pain in the way you point your poison-soaked accusation at his chest, “You fucked up everything with us and I hate you for it.  I hate you!” 
Stunned tears slip over cheeks painted red with anguish.  A roughened sob rattles in his chest, bursts through his lips that are already soaked in liquid salt. 
“Uhhm, okay…”
It’s worse than when Jason and Andy kicked the shit out of him in his garage.  His heart is a thundering mess of sluggish adrenaline that can’t decide between wanting to run or staying to fight.  The contrast is dizzying, and he’s quickly losing all control as the warring needs zing like electricity through his body.   The socks on his feet feel leaded, like they’ve melted into the carpet as he stands there, shoulders shaking as his body is wracked with his poorly suppressed cries.
The look on your face is one he’s seen before – at the end of his drive the day he told you about the studio.   
Hard.  Cold.  Disappointed.
“Just leave.  Leave me the fuck alone,” you don’t even turn to address him over your shoulder before your body curls in on itself, slumping to the floor.  A forlorn sob bubbles over your lips.  “I want Eddie…” 
Gareth doesn’t have it in him to keep fighting.  He’s been gutted, exposed and bleeding as he stumbles out of your room and into the hall.  The strength in his forearms is gone as he clutches around his middle, an attempt to hold himself together.  Down the stairs he goes, lurching towards the phone despite the early hour.  He’s come apart, and he dials the number he knows now by heart in the hope that the two on the other end can stop the painful waves of nausea and anxiety that slam into his form, pulling him under to surely drown.  
Casting a nervous glance back at the stairs, his foot jiggles as he hears the phone line trill.  “Christ, please pick up, pick up –”
A sleepy voice picks up on the fourth ring.  “‘Llo?”
“Steve.”  The older boy’s name is a sigh of relief.  “Oh god, thank god you woke up, man.”
“Gareth?”
“Y-yeah, I um, I think you need to get here.”
Steve clears the sleep from his throat.  “Are you okay?  What happened?  Is she –”
“She’s okay,” Gareth says quickly, and then immediately amends his statement.  “I mean, s-she’s not – fuck, sh-she got so mad at me, I – oh my god, I’ve never seen her –”
“Woah man, slow down.  Breathe.”
He obeys, a rush of rattling air whips over the receiver.  “Is Robin there?”
“Yeah, she’s right here.”  Soft swishing is heard as Steve passes the phone.  “Here, it’s Gareth.”
“Gareth, what happened?”
Something about Robin’s sweet concern shatters the younger boy.  He doesn’t have a chance to answer before he bursts into tears.  Between gasping breaths and hiccuping sobs, he manages to get out,
“I – I need you here.  She told me she hates me, she might be leaving, I don’t know – I need you both here, please –”
Robin doesn’t waste another moment.  “On our way.  Steve, let’s go.”
*
“She’s sleeping,” Robin assures the curly-haired man that sits at the patio table, eyes bloodshot from the blunt supplied by his friend in the chair to the right.  Robin takes the empty seat to Gareth’s left, and with a sigh, explains, “I may have swiped a trazodone or three from my mom’s stash to have on hand.” 
Steve hums, offering the joint after a long pull.  Gareth gratefully takes it, sucking in a deep hit and holding it until his lungs burn.  “Surprised she went back to sleep,” he mutters over his spicy exhale.  “How was she with you?”
They’re more pronounced, the worry lines that furrow over Robin’s forehead.  “She uh, she’s not great.”  Gareth grunts his assent as he offers her what’s left, only to be waved off.  “She told me she had a nightmare.  A really bad one and for whatever reason, she thought she was at Eddie’s,” her darkened eyes exchange a swift look with Steve before flitting back to Gareth. “Until…”
“She saw me, instead.”  Gareth clenches his fists in his lap as he remembers, biting the inside of his lip to keep from breaking down again.  “Yeah.  She made it pretty clear that I’m not him.”
Steve claps a sympathetic palm over Gareth’s shoulder blades.  “Hey, man...”
Robin interjects.  “I hate to say it Emerson, and you might think I’m a little bit nutso but I think this is good.”
Gareth’s face twists over a sour, “What?”
“Yeah, Rob,” Steve grimaces as he takes the joint back from Gareth, “definitely think you’re nutso.”
“Well, hear me out then, dingus.  That’s the most emotion any of us have seen out of her in five months.”  She sighs to the night sky before addressing the two young men.  “You guys know the stages of grief?”
Gareth replies a monotone yes at the same time Steve mumbles an bewildered no.  
Robin nods as if she was expecting this.  “Okay.  Pay attention, Stevie.  So I think it’s like… denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance.”  She backtracks, knowing that what the books say and what your reality has been is vastly different.  “I mean, these are just guidelines, or um, generalized milestones, you know – they don’t have to be in any hard and fast order, I mean people can do what they want and go through them at their own pace or order or –”
“Robin.”
She shoots a glare at Steve before clearing her throat and starting anew.  “Yeah.  So, she was uh, where she was for her first stage… and now, safe to say she’s moved on to anger.”  
Gareth’s thick eyebrows tent over his nose.  To him it makes sense – Robin certainly knows what she’s talking about, but it doesn’t quell the burn of failure that still flares hot behind his ribcage.  
“What I’m trying to say is that this isn’t about you,” Robin reaches out and offers comfort in the hand that winds through his.  “All of this bottled up everything that she’s been dealing with – it just exploded.  You were in the blast zone and I know that’s not gonna fix it in your brain, not immediately.  She told me what she said and you gotta know –”
Gareth scoffs hard and doesn’t even try to hide the bitterness out of his tone.  “What, she’s sorry?  She didn’t mean it?  That – fuck,” his fingers unwind from her hold and dig into the meat over his heart.  “I’m clearly not who she wants to even be around anymore.”
The smile that graces Robin’s lips is so kind and soft.  “I’d argue that you’re exactly who she wants to be around right now.”
Steve leans forward, forearms resting on his thighs.  “Robs, are you high?”
Robin sighs in faux-disgust at her best friend.  “Okay hear me out, I swear this will probably make sense.” Steve mutters oh my god under his breath, leaning back in his chair as a hand runs through his tousled strands. 
Wisely ignoring him, Robin turns her attention to your housemate.  “So, my sister’s kid.  When he was little, like 5 or 6, he’d come home from school and well, okay you know – school is super fun when you’re five and that’s where he would have like, the best day ever, right?  I mean, of course he did, he’s in kindergarten and god, every day is the best day ever – they get to fingerpaint and sing songs and make cute little –”
Steve belts a groan.  “The point, Robin.” 
“The point, Steven,” she quips with a pointed roll of her eyes, “is the teacher would just gush about him and how sweet and kind and adorable he was but as soon as he got home, he fucking unloaded.  She called it the ‘witching hour,’ only it could actually last like, numerous hours.  Sweetest freakin’ kid Emerson, I swear – but then when he got around her? He turned into this feral little shithead full of tantrums and screaming and everything.  God, he was a legit rabid hyena.  And you know how I feel about rabies, Steve.”
“I am aware, yeah.”
Gareth’s still struggling to connect the dots.  “I still don’t see –”
“Mom is the safe place where all the guards are let down and he can just be,” Robin explains kindly, shifting her position to kneel in front of where Gareth sits.  “Mom is the one he needs when he’s completely losing his shit after being exhausted from keeping all those emotions in all day.  That’s what you are to her.”
Steve wrinkles his nose after a moment of contemplation before wondering aloud, “Gareth’s her mom?”
“No, dingus,” Robin grins, “you’re still the mom, don’t worry.”  Directing all of her attention to the sandy-haired boy with the broken heart, she restates her point with a firm confidence Gareth’s almost inclined to believe.  “You’re her person.  Her safe place.”
It sounds so reasonable, but that self-doubt clouds his judgment, fades the ice in his eyes to a steel gray.  “I don’t know about all that, Buckley.”
“Oh.  Shit.”  Steve sits up in abrupt realization.  “We uh, we’ve seen her do this before.  Once.”  Robin appears as puzzled as Gareth.  “She let all this stuff fester and couple that with some added stress of –”
Robin’s face ignites, cutting off Steve before he reveals too much.  “Oh, yeah!” she exclaims excitedly, drawing Gareth’s confused gaze back to her.  “No, Steve’s right.  She did do this once.  To Eddie.”   
None of this information soothes the ache still lodged in the depths of Gareth’s bones.  “What?”
Steve takes one final hit before extinguishing the roach under his shoe.  “She said some crazy things to him, yeah.  But man, I’m telling you…”
The young woman finishes her best friend’s thought.  “The fact that she lashed out at you means everything.”  Robin flashes Gareth a hesitant smile.  “It means she meant none of it.  Those words carry no weight.”
“Feels pretty heavy,” Gareth chokes out as he sniffs harshly.  “Fuckin’ hurts.”
“I know.”  Robin’s owl-eyes prick with tears.  “I’m just asking… when she comes to apologize or explain or whatever, which she will – don’t shut her out.”
That’s the high road.  The proper course of action in order to deal with this complete and utter mess.  Gareth understands that as well as anyone.  Unfortunately, it doesn’t make it any easier.  His head hangs low, the singular nod barely perceptible.  
“We can stay,” Steve offers.  “If you want.” 
Running the back of his hand under his nose, Gareth nods again, more pronounced this time.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I think I’d like that guys, thanks.”
He doesn’t know the time, nor how long he stays outside with Steve and Robin lost in reliving the events of what led to this.  It’s somehow his fault, that much is clear.  He’s done or said something that made you uncomfortable.  Hell, he may have been doing it repeatedly for months and it just exploded in a fit of rage, like Robin had said.  Excusing himself to his room once a fresh wave of regret washes over his form, he bids his two friends goodnight.  The weight of it all settles heavily on his shoulders; he can’t even look at the door to your room that may as well be padlocked closed with how far away you feel.   
Gareth’s a fixer, and for what seems like the hundredth time since you’ve been there, he doesn't know how to move forward.  The loss he feels in his heart is catastrophic, and as the latch clicks when he pulls his own door shut, he’s plagued with the horrible realization that this might not be something he can fix.
Day 143, Morning
It could have been minutes or hours later when Gareth hears the telltale creak of his door and several soft footfalls across the carpet.  He knows it’s you without turning around.  Making like he’s still asleep, he keeps buried under the covers, hoping with all he has that they’ll protect him from what you're about to say.  How you’ll say it.  If you’re just saying it because Robin told you to and you don’t mean any of it or if you’re here as a courtesy before you leave him for good.
The bed dips under your weight, and Gareth holds his breath in anticipation as you draw in a shaky inhale through your nose.
“Gareth, I…” your voice is hoarse like you’ve been crying, “I am so ashamed of myself.”  
His lungs burn under the strain as they beg for oxygen; but he stays stone-still, terrified to move even so much as his ribcage and ruin more of what he fears is destroyed.  
“I guess,” you whisper, “I’m used to being the one that cares for everyone else.”
He can feel himself trembling, so much it’s a wonder you don’t demand that he sit up and face you like a man.  Easier said than done, apparently – as you continue, he’s resigned to stay lying on his side, desperate to hear you out.
“I did it after my dad died.  After Billy.  When Neil left.  After… everything.”  Clearing your throat of the thickness still in your tone, you allow a long moment to steady yourself before explaining, “I cleaned up the mess.  I learned how to make a plethora of dinners that Max hated.  I scared away her monsters in the middle of the night.  I hid liquor bottles and paid bills and got a job.  I faked being okay for Max so she could feel better.  And she did.  For the most part.  Maybe… o-or not.  I don’t know…”
He can tell by the way you trail off your sentence that there’s more.  There has to be more, right?  This isn’t over, this isn’t ruined; he clings to the hope for something salvageable as he waits for you in silence. 
“I hate that you’re in that position now and that you have to do this for me,” your voice cracks with authenticity as you reach the peak of your apology.  “It doesn’t excuse a single word I said to you last night, and fuck, Gareth… if I could take it all back, I would.”  Anguish draws your tone an octave higher, unstable and wobbly as you whisper, “I didn’t mean any of it, I swear to you.  I truly hate myself for lashing out and saying all those terrible things.”
The tears are audible in how you speak and sniffle.  “I want to be here with you.  I want you to keep being there for me because what you’ve done for me over the last – I don't even know what day it is so I can't tell you how long – you’re doing more for me than I feel I ever did for Max and I am so, so thankful for that.  I’m thankful for you.  Every fucking day, I’m thankful you walked back into my life in that stupid hospital room, okay?  
“You are something to me.  You’re exactly what I needed.  What I need.  I’ll never be able to express how fortunate I know I am to have been on the receiving end of – oh!”
Gareth sits up, startling you so badly that you nearly topple off the bedspread.  “Stop talking and just hug me, okay?”
Your face crumples as you fling yourself into his arms.  “I’m so sorry, oh my god I am so fucking sorry –”
A slew of words beg for release on his tongue.  He doesn’t even know where to start, but the first thing that bursts to the forefront of his brain has his blurting,
“I’m really helping you?”
Sincerity rounds out your eyes, pulling back to face him.  “So much.  Every day you are, I swear, Gareth you have to believe me, I – oh my god, I am so –”
He’s quick to butt in with a repeated melody of your name, the gravel is his voice interrupts your fevered apologies.   Gareth is practically breathless as he gets you to settle down and listen for a moment, though he’s thankful for what you've said so far.
He’s positively desperate to know more.  “You want to be here?”
You’re nodding furiously, fingers digging into the muscle of his upper arms.  “I do.  I promise you I do.  This is my…”  For the first time this morning, your tone levels off.  There’s no wobble or tremble in how you tell him, “Gareth, you’ve made this a home.  You know that, right?  I consider this my home.”
Silence stretches as he’s left speechless for several seconds, blinking back tears against what he swears is the most meaningful thing anyone’s ever said to him.  “Yeah?”
“Yeah.  This is my home.  Y-you’re my home.”  The promise of tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you choke out another distraught, “I am so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he coos, more firmly this time as his lips stretch into a euphoric grin.  “I just want you to stay.”
“I’ll stay.  I’m staying.  You still want me to?”
Gareth could laugh at how ridiculous it is to even have you believing otherwise.  “Are you kidding?  Of course I do.”  His heart hammers in his chest as he conjures the courage to say, “It was never my intention to make you feel uncomfortable or like I wanted something from you.”
What little control you had at holding those tears at bay suddenly crumbles.  He wants to wipe it all away, wants to hold you in his arms until you stop crying like he has a hundred times before, but he can’t – not until he knows that’s what you want from him.  The urge to reach up and cradle your dampened cheeks in his palms is overwhelming, though not as strong as the need to wait.  To hold out and make sure that you need him in this way and that you know without a doubt he needs you this way, too.
Only this way.
Your voice cracks over a fresh wave of regret.  “I, oh – Gareth, I know.”  Breath hitching, you swallow before assuring, “You didn’t.  You haven’t.  I’ve never once – god, I don’t know where those words came from.  I mean, I know they came from me.  I know that and I am so fucking ashamed of it.  But never once have you ever made me feel anything but welcome and safe here.”  A hard, wet sniff punctuates the end of your rambling.  “Okay?”
Gareth’s heart leaps into his throat, barely able to stammer out, “Y-yeah, okay.  Good.”
A chunk of your lip is worried through your teeth.  “And, um… I’m actually fine with you calling me hun. It's nice.”  You shrug one shoulder, looking at him through your matted lashes.  “Cute.”
He tries twisting his mouth into a grimace, but he fails.  The toothy grin stretches wide over his lips and wins outright.  “Cute? Really?”
The corner of your mouth quirks up in a smirk.  “Would you like me to say it’s super manly?”
“No,” Gareth huffs a watery laugh before his face falls.  His teeth pick a raw edge of his lower lip, almost too nervous to ask but he pushes the words forth, anyway.  “Is there, um… do I like, hug you or touch you too much –”
The vehement shake of your head cuts him off.  “No.  God, no.  I’m – I’m so sorry I said that.”
“Don’t be sorry if it really bothers you.”  He can’t get the words out quick enough, he has to let you know he means it, he’d do anything if it meant that you’re comfortable in his space.  “‘Cause I can back off.”
You’re quick to shake your head again.  “I don’t want you to.  I don’t.  I’m not just saying it to make you feel better either.”  
“I’d be mad if you did.”
“I know.”
Gareth swallows, searching your face for any trace of unease.  “Okay,” relief whooshes out of his lungs as he exhales, “no backing off.”
You echo him firmly.  “No backing off. And…”
“Yeah?”
“I, oh…” Losing yourself in another round of shoulder-shaking sobs, you manage to whimper a pitiful, “I don’t hate you.  Gareth, I’m so sorry I said that.  But I don’t.  I have to tell you I don’t hate you, not even close, okay?”
He can’t hold back any longer.  Gathering you into his arms, he whispers assurances into the crown of your head.  “Hey, shh.  I know, it’s okay.”
You make a contrary noise in the back of your throat sniffling loudly before protesting, “It’s not okay.  I can’t believe I said that to you.”
“I mean,” he chokes over an ironic laugh, “you did used to hate me.”
Feeling you burrow your face into his chest, his arms tighten their hold when he hears you scoff.  “No, I didn’t.”  You lift your head to say it again.  “I didn’t then and I don’t now.  I swear.”
He hums, exaggerating his skepticism which earns him a featherlight swat to his chest.  He huffs a lighthearted laugh before he asks,
“Do you, um… do you wanna go downstairs?”
You seem to contemplate it for a moment before pressing your lips into a soft line.  “Not really.”
“Do you wanna go back to your room?”
“No.”
“Do you wanna –”
“I want to stay in here,” there’s intensity in your gaze when you assert, “with you.”
The apples in Gareth’s cheeks pop as he grins.  “Okay,” he murmurs as he guides you under the blankets, “c’mere.”  
It takes only a moment of shuffling before you’re both comfortable.  He’s lying on his side with his front to your back, content to feel the warmth of your body heat when your demure whisper of his name opens his weary eyes. 
“Gareth?”
“Yeah?”
His heart breaks when he feels just as much as he hears your shaky exhale.  “I’m always gonna be sorry about this.”
Snaking his dominant arm around your middle, he gives you a reassuring squeeze.  “You don’t need to be.  I promise.”
His mattress bounces gently as you turn to face him.  “Can you let me be anyway?”
That yes almost slips through.  He almost gives in just to give you exactly what you what.  “We’ll see.” Gareth’s relatively sure you know he won’t stand for it, but right now he doesn’t care.  He’s been vindicated, his heart is whole again, he has exactly what he needs right now lying in his arms.  “Go back to sleep.” 
As he presses a quiet kiss into your hair, he’s treated to a rather sardonic clearing of your throat.  Chuckling to himself, he pulls you nearer to rest under his chin.
“Go back to sleep, hun.”
Day 145
It didn’t take much this morning.  You’re delighted to get out in the fresh air, especially after Gareth suggests taking a walk in the woods near the school.  He figures it might be nice to be where Eddie so often frequented.  In his mind, that picnic table would be the perfect place to write.
Or relax and just be.
Your whole entire being brightens, almost like an internal light has been flipped on.  
As you maneuver down the trail, taking care to avoid a rotted root that sticks precariously out of the ground, the back of your hand brushes his.
Gareth has to stop himself from taking it.
Day 146
“Hey, uh… could you take me somewhere this afternoon?”
Gareth folds over the newspaper Ted brought him that morning.  “Yeah. Where?”
“Often Running.”
His nose scrunches over the unfamiliar name.  “The — is that the shoe store?  Are they even open?”
“Not just a shoe store, but yeah, they are.  Steve told me.”  Gareth mouths oh as you explain, “I need new running shoes if I’m gonna get back into it.”
He poorly masks his excitement, wondering briefly if this has anything to do with the appointment you had with Kate earlier this week.  “You’re gonna get back into running?”
“Yeah,” your expression is serene, the look in your eyes far away as you murmur, “think so.”
“Good.”  He feels your gaze on him still, even after he goes back to reading the paper.  His jaw clenches, knowing what’s coming.  “Do I have to run with you?”
It’s the first time he sees you full-on smirk in months, ripe with so much Mayfield attitude that it pops a little crease in your left cheek.  
“Yes.”
“Fuck that,” he guffaws as your face splits into a grin.  “No.  Run there yourself if you wanna go that badly.”
*
Later, Gareth’s in the garage, breaking down the thick cardboard box from your new trainers.  He looks down the drive and sees you hunched over, lacing the shoes.  The way his heart inflates in his chest should restrict his breathing, but the reality is that this is the best he’s felt in ages.  
He could get lost in seeing how you smile, just from running a string through a goddamn pair of sneakers.
With one final tug, you look up at your friend.  “You coming?”
Gareth lolls his head back.  “Yessss –”
“Oh, can it, G.  You’re fine.  It’ll be good for you.” 
He meets you halfway down the drive and snatches his shoes from your hands.  “So, there’s a right way to lace these things, yeah?”
“Yep, and you’re all set.  C’mon,” you bounce way too buoyantly on the toes of your own new kicks, “get 'em on and let’s go!”
Gareth predictably grumbles the entire time he tightens the shoestrings.  “Don’t rush me, Mayfield,” he gruffs, groaning overly loud as you start a slow jog through the cul-de-sac.  “How long do I have to do this before I can fake a hamstring pull and walk back?”
The smirk that pulls at your lips is downright devilish.  “At least three months.”
“Oh, fuck you.”
His retort holds no malice, and you know it.  It’s entirely too evident in the way he lasts the entire twenty-minute jog to the end of the neighborhood and back.
Day 148
On his way home from another errand run from Melvad’s, Gareth finds himself humming along to the utter earworm of a song that’s been played to death on the stations around Hawkins this summer.  He reasons the newest piece from Peter Gabriel isn’t half bad as far as top-40 hits go.  Maybe it’s because Dustin and Lucas sang it so many times at Harrington’s pool party, or maybe it was because of that serene, faraway look you had on your face as you endured their performance – but ultimately, it doesn’t matter. 
He likes the fucking song.
The windows are down, the bass is up, and he belts the last round of the chorus loud enough for you to hear as he eases the car into his drive.  Rocking back to sit on your heels, you shade your eyes with your free hand and grimace at his off-key rendition as he throws the car into park.  Letting it idle as the radio blasts through the hook, your face splits into a grin as Gareth shouts, his voice cracking comically over the,
 Ah!  You better call the sledgehammer
“Stop!” you holler, which only spurs on his efforts more.  You toss your small spade back into the unkempt flowerbed in front of you, failing to hide the brightness in your smile.  “Gareth, seriously!” 
The music is loud enough to echo between the houses in the cul-de-sac, and he registers your delighted apprehension of being a nuisance with the neighbors.   “Aw,” he grumbles to himself and switches off the ignition, “you’re no fun.”
He snatches the two paper sacks out of the passenger seat before ambling over to where you’re back at work on your hands and knees, working tirelessly in the heat of the afternoon to rid his mother’s landscaping of all the weeds that choke what’s left of the foliage of her flowerbeds.  
“Damn,” he breathes, baby blues scanning the yard as you hurl another thick-stemmed something over your shoulder, “these look kinda shitty.”
You grunt in agreement, reaching back behind a fully bloomed hosta to dig up a patch of crabgrass by its roots.  “Won’t look that way by the time I’m done with ‘em.”
The opportunity just presents itself.  Call it perfect timing or whatever, but as he watches you struggle to tug out the offending dense patch of grass, the sunlight beating down on your already reddened shoulders, he can’t pass up the chance to fuck with you.  
Especially when he notices you’ve stolen his favorite sleeveless Megadeth tee to work outside.  
He tries to school his face neutral, but the sly grin that snakes over his features is telling. “Do you even know how to clear out a flower bed?”
The young man almost laughs out loud with how your entire body seizes up, inching back in a crawl before shooting a haughty glare over your shoulder.  “Do I know how to rip out weeds and chuck ‘em into the lawn?”  For effect, you hold eye contact as you fling said chunk of greenery across your body to bounce in a heap on the grass.  “Yeah.  I think I got that covered.”  
Gareth’s curls bounce as he tosses his head back and laughs, harder still as you mutter, “Ass.”
He takes a second to rummage through one of the bags.  “Got you these,” he says as a pair of gardening gloves hit you square in the chest.  “I’ll be out later to mow.  Gonna put away laundry first, ‘kay?”
“Ohh,” this time is you that allows a wry grin to twist at the corners of your mouth, “the laundry that I folded for you like a week ago and is still in the basket?  That laundry?”
“Yeah, the laundry I’ve been too sore to put away because –”
His griping is so fake it makes you groan.  “Oh my god, Gareth – you went running one time!”  He adjusts the bags in his arms before heading past you to the front door.  “Oh, hey – can you start the dishwasher?” you ask as he reaches the front step.  “I wanna have actual forks with dinner tonight.”
“Yeah,” he waves absentmindedly with a shove to the door, “I got it.”
“Make sure you turn the dial all the –”
“Yes – god, I know, I got it!”
You wrinkle your nose at your cantankerous housemate.  “Don’t get sassy with me, Emerson.”
He flips you the bird in return, making your jaw drop in faux-consternation.  “Fuckin’ get sassy if I wanna,” he mutters to himself as he dips inside the cool interior of his foyer.  “Christ.”
After making quick work of putting away his haul, Gareth curses lowly when he surveys the lack of Cascade detergent under the sink.  A backup plan swiftly formulates, because he’s not about to pile back into that car and drive his happy ass back to Melvad’s – Gareth snatches the blue bottle of soap on the counter and fills the trough in the dishwasher door, figuring it’ll be fine.  
He huffs a satisfied sigh as he turns the dial just past the typical starting position and the motor kicks to life.  Looks like you’ll be having your real forks for dinner or whatever you said, all because of his ingenuity.  And if he brings it up a couple of times over dinner tonight out on the patio in search of some Mayfield-flavored approval, well… who could blame him?
*
So… you may have underestimated the early September heat.  Despite August’s departure, it is still very much summer, and digging out these fucking weeds takes it out of you a little faster than you thought under the direct attention of the afternoon sun.
You’re disappointed to find that the garage refrigerator is empty, and making a mental note to pick up more soda to stock it, you use your bum to bump open the mudroom door and are stunned with what you see.
Bubbles.
Mountains and mountains of pearlescent, airy bubbles – everywhere.
Creeping past the entrance to the kitchen from where you stand.  Between the chairs and under the table in the dinette.  In a solid layer over the hardwood, spreading quickly to the sunroom and already inching their way in fluffy little rivers to the carpet in the den.  You’re careful to step lightly over the linoleum, mouth agape as you take in the scene before you.  
But when you see the state of the kitchen?  Your eyes round into saucers as you screech, “Gareth, shit – shit!  Oh my god, GARETH!”
You didn’t even consider if he would still be upstairs attending to his laundry, but the way the ceiling fan rattles as he barrels down the hall tells you all you need to know.
“What?  Mayfield!  Are you okay?” he calls as he whips down the stairs.  Gareth runs full speed into the kitchen, rounding the corner from the dining room and headlong into the bubbles, which effectively makes him go ass over feet and fall on his back.
Stunned out of your stupor, you clap a hand over your mouth.  “Ohmygod, G!”  
He sees you move before he has a chance to stop you.  “Nonono don’t – you’re gonna fall!”
There’s not a moment to process his warning before your whole body upends, feet slipping with impressive speed to have you landing flat on your back.
“Oh shit,” you wheeze when all of the air is forcibly expelled from your lungs, “that’s way more slippery than it looks!”
A pair of blazing blue eyes suddenly appear above you, wilder still with how his curls are jut out at all angles, slathered in soapy suds. “What is happening?!”
Ignoring his question, you badger him with a more important, “Hey, are you okay?”
“Mayfield, what is this –?”
“Gareth,” you shift with a wince to support your torso on your forearms, “you fucking rocked your head against the floor, are you okay?”
“I’m fine!” he gestures with a flailing arm to the mess around him.  “What in the actual fuck –”
It starts slow, at first.  A giggle that flutters over your lips at how crazed and panicked your friend looks at the current predicament, soaked head to toe in soggy suds that cling to his skin and clothes.  They quickly coalesce into a fit, tugging at a tether that’s tied between your belly and shoulders, making them rock with every little sound that bursts through.  Gareth’s still trying to find the source for the madness, and it doesn’t take you but a moment to scoot across the floor and tug on the handle of the washer to get it to stop.  
You don’t even think he hears you trying to stifle your laughter until the noise ceases, and a fresh wave of bubbles pours into the space and has you cackling in earnest.  “Did – did you put dish soap in the dishwasher?”
Gareth looks at you like you’ve grown two heads.  “Yeah!” he exclaims, cracking a crooked grin as you succumb to side-splitting laughter.  “What?  It makes sense!  We ran out of that other stuff you use!  I don’t fucking – c’mon, it’s a goddamn dishwasher –” 
That has you howling, toppling over and resting a shoulder against the cabinet to keep you from slumping to the floor.  “Sto – stop, I can’t breathe –”
“It washes dishes!” Gareth feebly reasons between his own distinct chuckles, “fucking dish soap, Mayfield!”
“Gareth, stop!” you’re begging, splinting your aching side by wrapping your arm around your middle.
“So, you’re not supposed to put Dawn in the –”
The wrinkles around your eyes deepen their definition as your grin widens.  “Obviously, the answer is no!”
The sounds you make are positively infectious.  He’s soon joining you, chest heaving and cheeks aching as he succumbs to his own fits.  Though he’ll admit, it’s because of you.  Sure, this colossal display of his idiocy is hilarious, but what really brings a smile to his face is the fact that your eyes are pinched shut from how widely you’re smiling – and laughing.  
There’s no comparison to how lovely it sounds to have your genuine laughter grace his ears once again.  He belts an elongated ohh, his lips form the words over a languid grin without a second thought.  
“Fucking beautiful.”
The skin around your eyes partially lose that adorable crinkle when you’ve registered what he’s said – but it doesn’t wipe the grin from your face. 
“What?” you ask at the tail-end of a giggle.  “What’s that?”
“Laugh,” he blurts, stomach swooping with dread that he's said too much.  “L-laugh.  Your Laugh.  Christ, I’m sorry.  It’s just that it’s –”
“Gareth.” That smile on your face turns wistful because you know.  “It’s okay,” you finish softly.  
You’re completely aware of how long it’s been, and Gareth’s right.  It is beautiful – the feeling that’s inflated your chest to the point where you feel like it’s going to pop.
Before the heaviness has a chance to settle, Gareth’s eyes flare with mischief.  He’s scooping a healthy portion of suds in his cupped palms and flings them your direction in one fluid motion.  He guffaws heartily when it lands, covering your face and a good bit of your hair.  Retaliation is swift, heaps of bubbles are made into featherlight projectiles in furious fashion as squeals and genuine belly laughs saturate the air as much as the soap has saturated the floor.
A problem for later.
“Fuck,” Gareth tugs you close after a truce has been called, his arm draping over your shoulders still heaving for your lost breath.  “That felt good.”
“What did?”
“To laugh like that.” 
“Yeah,” you agree, a hint of melancholy paints your tone, “it’s been a long time since I’ve laughed like that.”
He knows he doesn’t need to say anything else, the catharsis has come in the form of his massive fuck-up that will likely be used as teasing ammunition for years to come.  Funnily enough, he can’t find it in himself to care.
Gareth leans over automatically and plants a kiss to your hair above your ear, spluttering on suds that he’s inadvertently inhaled up his nose.  It immediately triggers another attack of giggles that intensifies the ache in your sides and greatly lessens the one in your hearts.
Day 153
Five in a row.
Tonight marks five evenings in a row where he’s driven you to the school to spend time on that picnic table in the clearing in the woods.  You write, you talk, you fucking laugh and he can see glimpses of the old you starting to shine through the clouds.
It’s you, it’s always been you and Gareth knows that.  The events of the spring have changed you, and he knows that, too.
But god.  
Seeing that smile scrunch up your cheeks into those adorable apples like it used to?
It’s changed him in the best possible way.
Day 155
“Gareth?”
He sets his pencil down on the worn wood of the picnic table, squinting at how you’re backlit by the setting sun through the trees.  “Yeah?”
“I figured out another thing I’m sorry about.”
“What?” His stomach drops, not wanting you to feel like you have to keep doing this.  “No.  No, you don’t have to —”
“When I said you weren’t my friend.”
He doesn’t move, he doesn’t breathe – he should probably reassure you again, tell you that you don’t have to apologize, but this is the very thing that’s needled at his heart.  This is what hurt him the most, and – well, he’s merely just a man.  
A man that really would like to hear how it’s not true, how you are his friend.  Again. 
“Look,” you’re up and pacing in the clearing, “now I love Steve and Robs so much.  Nance, too.  I’m close to them in ways…”  You trail off, stopping your frantic steps to pin him in a gaze that bores into his soul.  “But you?  It’s just – more.  Different.”
“Really?”  Gareth’s heart swoops low, fluttering out of rhythm.  He knows you don’t mean it like that, but a new, unwelcome but fantastic sensation bubbles from within.  Zings through his veins, brightens his sight, fills his lungs.
Gives him hope.
You sigh heavily as your pacing resumes.  “I outright lied to you.  You’re absolutely my friend.  God, you’re my best fucking friend and I’m so sorry I made you think –”
He could cry with how relieved you’ve made him.  Interrupting the regret that continues to pour from your mouth, he chokes out,
“I can’t tell you how much it means to hear you say that.”  
“I know,” you sniff, “I should have said it earlier, I’m sorry –”
Gareth barks a laugh, hoping that’ll soothe the emotion that burns in the back of his throat.  “Okay, new plan.”  He swallows before he stands, walking around the table to meet you in the center of the clearing.  He takes your hands in his, squeezing while he affirms, “No more saying sorry.  You’re forgiven.  You’ve been forgiven.  I hold none of it against you, nor will I ever.”
Despite his best efforts, his waterline floods with tears.  Gareth inhales deeply before he readily admits,  “You’re my best friend, too.”
“Yeah?”
“Of course, hun.”  His broad shoulders welcome you into an embrace against his chest.  “Christ, of course you are.”
A breathy giggle bubbles over your lips, the warmth of it fans over the hollow of his throat.  He thinks he feels you smile before you whisper, “Jeff’s gonna be sad.”
 Gareth stands there with you for quite some time, basking in the peace that now fills his heart.  “Oh,” he scoffs over a snicker, “we just won’t tell him.” 
The young man shares a secret smile with the trees, knowing full well that Jeff already knows.
Day 157
“I think it’s almost done.”
Gareth hums in agreement as he stretches his arms above his head.  “Yeah, hun.  I think so, too.”  The bench creaks as he twists to look at you.  “I love how it’s shaping up.”
“Thanks.”  You slide off the couch to join him in front of the piano.  “Can you play it again?  I kinda wanna see how it sounds.”  A meek set of eyes meet his.  “Next to you.”
“Yeah,” he says thickly, only taking a moment before he recovers and bumps his shoulder to yours.  “Of course.”  His fingers settle again over the keys.  “Ready?”
A shy smile ghosts over your lips.  “Ready.”
Day 160
About ten minutes into your morning run, Gareth barks your name.
It’s breathless, and there’s an urgency behind it, like he’s actually gone and pulled something.  It has you stopping abruptly, closing the short distance in several swift strides.
“Hey,” you inquire gently, “what’s wrong?”
He’s drained of all color, even his lips are a pale shade of his usual pink.  “My parents are gone,” Gareth whispers, like the realization has just hit him.  Like, really hit him.  “Hun, they’re gone gone.”
You take your tee and wipe the sweat that’s collected around your mouth.  “Yeah, G…” you trail off carefully, “they are.”
He sways on his feet, and you reach out to grab his forearm.  “It’s, umm… I, uh – I’m it,” he stutters.  “My aunt is gone too, and s-she was my mom’s only sibling and my dad was an only child.  I don’t have grandparents anymore, I haven’t for awhile and n-now –” 
An abrupt burst of gasping; sharp, wheezing breaths interrupt him and Gareth has to bend over and clutch his knees in order to stay conscious.
It’s miraculous that it’s taken him this long for this reality to sink in.  You almost wonder if it’s worse, having it be this long before it all comes boiling to the surface.  A grounding hand between his shoulder blades rests, swiping over a sweaty Hawkins Phys Ed tee, back and forth as his sobs wrack his body.  
“You can do this, though,” you thread through the countless sentiments and condolences you’ve heard from him in the last five-plus-months and repeat them, over and over until he hears you.  
“I’ve got you.”
“You’re so strong already.”
“Take as long as you need.”
“I’m right here.”
“You’re doing this.”
That snaps something inside. “I’m not!” he bellows, crouching and then falling to his bottom to sit on the curb.  His hand claws at his chest.  “I can’t do this!  I’m still a kid, I mean –” 
Rounded orbs of baby blue are glassy with tears as he struggles to explain, to understand what’s all of a sudden been made so clear in his mind.  
“My mom,” he chokes out, “we were supposed to go on a college visit to Butler this month.  W-we had it set up.  My mom and I were gonna go and – and now she –”
He doesn’t stop his tears from falling, and neither do you.   
Clapping his hand over his mouth, he tries to muffle his sobs as he wails your name.  “I’m a fucking orphan!  I don’t have parents!  I don’t h-have my mom or my dad anymore –”
You scoot close enough to wrap him in a hug, welcoming the fresh wave of hiccuping sobs as you cling to his shoulders.  You keep up the mantra, whispering a plethora of soothing sweet nothings in his ear as he cries into your chest.  
Eventually, it passes.  The tears slow, the shuddering sobs die out, and the powerful unknown sinks its teeth into Gareth’s skin.  
His red rimmed eyes search yours.  “What am I gonna do?”
Your bottom lip trembles as you cup his face.  “We’re gonna turn around and go home and watch Top Gun and eat that gross Rocky Road ice cream you’re obsessed with.”  There’s confidence in how you speak, and it makes Gareth huff a watery laugh.  
He lets you wipe his tears with the already damp tips of your fingers.  “And we’re skipping the part where Goose dies,” he affirms, though he knows he doesn’t need to.
“Duh,” you chuff as your expression softens.  “And – and I can be the one that comforts you this time.”
Gareth scrubs a hand down his face, sniffing hard.  “Okay.”  Letting out a shaky breath, he forces himself to stand, and offers his own to help you up.  “Sorry I fucked up your run.”
You’d glare at him if you had it in you.  “Shut up.  I don’t care.”  
And you don’t.  To make your point, you take his hand, winding your fingers through his as you retrace your steps back home.
Running the hem of his shirt under his nose, he belts a long, drawn out sigh.  “Christ,” he swears, looking around sheepishly, “I just lost it in the middle of some random ass neighborhood.”
“I know.  It does that,” you tug him closer, “just sneaks up out of nowhere.”
Several houses pass you by before he speaks.  “Thanks.  For talking me through that.”
“I learned from the best.”
He pushes an affectionate whine through his nose, eyes pinching shut against more tears.  “God damn it, Mayfield.” 
Dangerously close to losing his composure again, he takes your joined hands and guides yours around his waist so he can drape his over your shoulders.  This time, it’s you that plants the supportive peck against the front of his shoulder and guides him the rest of the way home.
Day 165
“Don’t look at me like that.”
Gareth smirks into his mug, the white State Farm one with the red clover logo that’s now understood is permanently his.  
“I’m not looking at you any particular way.”
“Yes, you are.  I know it’s barely past six and I’m baking a cake,” you retort, mixing the contents of the tupperware bowl with more vigor.  “It’s Max’s birthday and… and this is her favorite.”
Deciding not to address that huge bomb of information you’ve just dropped, he leans forward on his toes and studies the contents you continue to whisk.  
“Vanilla?”
“Yep.”  You pop your lips around the p.  “With vanilla buttercream and a shitload of sprinkles.”
“Yeah,” he chuffs, nodding to the pile of multicolored decorations that adorn the counter.  “I can see that.  Need any help?”
“Nah.”  You shoo him out of the kitchen with a flick of your wrist.  “Just need you dressed.  And maybe go buy a blunt or two off of Jonathan.”
“Oh, so this is a party party.”  He waggles his eyebrows.  “I like it, Mayfield.”
“I don’t think anyone at Roane Hill’s gonna care.”  He could sigh in relief when he watches that little smile play on your lips. “Look, she would have chewed my ass for moping on her birthday.  I’m, uh… gonna try to be better about that.”
“Hey,” thick brows furrow over his nose as he tries to catch your gaze.  “You don’t have to be better about anything.”
The scrape of plastic-on-plastic stalls.  “Feels like I do,” you murmur to the batter.
Gareth hums as he takes another sip, not a disagreeable sound in the least.  Just one to let you know he’s heard you.  
“So getting blitzed and eating cake is how we’re gonna spend Max’s birthday, huh?”
“Yep.”
“Sounds great, hun.”  
Day 167
The recurring dream.  
It’s always the same:  a slow pull from the depths of sleep into a seated position in the bed.  The window is open; the lightweight curtains flap in the breeze, making you feel exposed, like you’re being watched.  You’ve done it all before – scanned the corners of the room, thrown open the closet doors, checked under the bed, but there are no monsters to be found. 
Still, an invisible something calls you out of the comfort of your bed to stand at the window.
And so you do.
It’s always the same: a familiar neighborhood drenched in darkness, hauntingly still as can be.  Too silent, absent of all ambient noise that you’ve come to expect of the place you now call home.  Nothing so much as breathes while you wait.
And suddenly, there he is.  A figure shrouded in shadows at the end of the drive.  
It’s always the same.
When he first appeared in those early, tortuous months, you tried calling to him.  Yelling, clawing, screaming until your throat was raw and his name tasted like blood on your tongue.  Immobile as stone, he merely stood and watched.  Listened.  Ignored every desperate cry that poured from your wailing mouth.  
As quickly as he would appear, he would melt back into the midnight black.  
It would leave you wondering if you ever saw him at all.
The most divine of tortures, these dreams.  They left you always wanting more, begging and praying whatever god there might be for a chance to see him properly.  To hold and to touch him.  To feel his mouth move with yours once again.
Though, as time went on, you weren’t so sure you wanted these things anymore.  
Apprehension replaced your rabid desperation, especially as the days tick by with no change.  This isn’t him.  You felt the absence of his essence even though your eyes told you to look and to believe.  But you don’t.  He should be frantic to see you, too.  The man you once knew is lost, and in its place an unfamiliar entity stands as cold and rigid as steel.   
A sinister prickle crawled up your spine when he appeared, each and every time.  Sunken eyes, black as the night trained on your face, stole the overwhelming love you still held in your heart and instead allowed for fear to inhabit.  It festered like a boil, feverish and tender to the touch.  Every breath that sawed in and out of your chest burned with dread, like you could feel the intention of the being that stood at the end of that lane.
You could, and what you felt wasn’t pleasant. But you always awakened.  Always pulled back the quilt and swung your legs over the edge of the bed.  Always let yourself be drawn to that open window to watch and wait while your arms lie useless at your sides while you wait.  A curious paradox thrums through your veins; being so close, yet so far.  Wanting him the same way you fear him.  This madness seems so familiar, just like what you’ve read numerous times before.
Even in the darkness, you can tell he’s changed.  The lines of his face are sharp like blades.  Lips that look thin, though you know they’re not.  Skin as white as snow but has an iridescent sheen that’s flat-out inhuman.  You want to say it, you want to think it, but your brain doesn’t allow the word to ever come.
Then, one night in early summer, he altered the course.
You knew what would happen before it did.  A restlessness settled in your bones, unfulfilled until you saw him start that slow saunter up the drive.  His long legs looked weightless as he drifted over the cobblestone path to the front door, beneath where your window is open wide, like an invitation.  
But there he stood.  Closer, sure – but never enough.  The window remained open as a silent call, but he never took it.  He never stepped inside.   
It’s always the same.  A nightmare doomed to repeat, over and over.
Until tonight. 
A familiar compulsion brings you to the window to see him as that same dark figure shrouded in a void of midnight black.  This time?  He’s outlined: broad shoulders and lithe frame backlit a blinding white of this otherworldly mist that swirls in strange sequences around and around again.  He watches you, this much is the same – an unwavering sort of stare with those blank, obsidian eyes.  Just like every other night, your body betrays you, arms lying at your side like leaden weights, yearning to reach out and grab him.  But this time, you give in.  You wait.  You don’t struggle.  You don’t yell or claw or scream.
There’s no fear.  The scene advances like it always does; your focus never wavers as he puts one lean leg in front of the other, no longer so odd that he makes no sound.  The rich scent of peat and dew filters in from the outdoors, and your eyes flick to the window to make sure it’s open all the way.
It is.
Then comes the mist.  Fine, featherlight clouds of dazzling pearlescent white filter in the room, creep over the eave of the window and along the wall to the floor.  Tangle at your feet.  Wind in wispy tendrils up your legs and seep into the exposed skin that puckers with the chill.  
There’s a closeness to him with this strange swirling haze, one that elevates your dream farther than you’ve ever been before.  An odd urgency to speak his name befalls you.
“Eddie,” his name tinkles like a bell in the dead of the night, “come to me.”
At the sound of your voice, a sinister smile pulls wide over a row of terrible, dazzling teeth.
Sharp, pointed.  
Hungry. 
Good.
You want this.  You want him.  You want him to have you so badly you can feel the desperation sear through your veins.  Somehow, you know that this is the way; this is what needs to happen in order for him to break through this barrier, to stop this horrible ache for his presence and finally whisk you away.
The journey to your windowsill takes an agonizing forever.  A slow and steady march over the concrete pavers and out of view under the overhang.  Your first instinct is to worry, to wonder where he is – but something stronger tells you to wait.  One heartbeat, one thump of blood pumped through supple vessels is all the time it takes.
He’s there.  Standing in front of you, separated only by the eaves of the window still wide open with hope.  Swirling pools of onyx and oxblood pin you in place as he looks upon you down his long nose.  The only sound is the whooshing of blood in your ears if you don’t count the quick intake of breath through your parted lips.  Heart pounding, your stare memorizes every inch of him, every sharp edge of his moonbeam skin that stretches in tight white planes over his bones.  
As close as he is, he still feels oceans away.  You’re at a crossroads; the desire to thrust yourself over the ledge and into his arms is almost as magnetic as the need to stay and wait.  The two needs war inside your brain before he makes the decision for you.
Eddie bursts into flames, a roaring inferno from head to toe.  Terror sears your skin as hot as the fire that licks over his, dousing his darkened clothes with malevolent red and orange tongues.  They’re meant to destroy, to burn to ash everything that you love – and ultimately, it does.  
His lips part, a dry whisper of your name before he’s gone, reduced to dust that blows away in the wind.
You’re ripped from sleep, bolting upright with a start as a high-pitched gasp echoes off the walls of your room.  Wiping your forehead drenched in sweat, your stinging eyes blink against the early morning sun as you struggle to make sense of what you’ve just seen.  It takes several moments to calm yourself before you’re throwing off the covers to race down the hall and drag Gareth from his bed.  He mutters something about modesty before startling fully awake, shocked at your vehemence behind your actions as you tug him forcefully down the stairs and into the sunroom.
Heart still hammering wildly behind your ribcage, your mouth is set into a tight line as you scribble the words, the words that you knew all along were missing from your part of the duet; and finally, you allow yourself a miniscule smile.
It’s done.
You draw in an identical breath with Gareth as his fingers find the keys, pausing for just a beat before they slam over the ivory and belt out the tune that’s been forever branded in your brain.
The soundtrack of your grief as it began in July of 1985.
Gareth rounds the last of the intro, and with that, you steal a glance to settle the nerves that still buzz with the adrenaline of your dream.  A thickness settles in your throat, offering a richness to the harmony as you begin.
Now I think I understand How this world can overcome a man Like a friend we saw it through In the end I gave my life for you
The last line chokes you up, the way you hold the final note of the stanza is garbled, and Gareth shuffles closer, pressing his torso against yours.  It’s not much, the action itself is small but it’s grand in meaning, and you recognize his desire to have you feel seen.
To remind you that you’re not alone in this.
You press into the warmth of his body as you inhale a steadying breath, and begin the next verse with him.  
Gave you all I had to give Found a place for me to rest my head While I may be hard to find Heard there's peace just on the other side
Lithe fingers flutter over a haunting set of keys, leaving you to run the chorus alone. 
Not that I could Or that I would Let it burn Under my skin
Gathering all of the anguish you’ve held over the last six months to collect in a tight, fiery ball in your chest, you suck in the air that’s been missing from the depths of your lungs and belt a mournful, powerful, 
Let it burn
Where you find your air, Gareth loses his.  The raw emotion packed into that added line takes his breath away; he feels every last bit of your pain and his in how you hold that note.  It’s a solid struggle to force his fingers to keep playing, to bring the melody back to the start and begin the second verse.
Left this life to set me free Took a piece of you inside of me All this hurt can finally fade Promise me you'll never feel afraid
You would swear your very soul is on fire with how fiercely you roll through your words, letting them burn as they fall from your tongue.
Not the I could Or that I would Let it burn Under my skin Let it burn
Gareth’s whole body rocks with how hard his hands power through the chords, slamming fingers over keys that convey the misery and heartache that’s nearly strangled the life out of both of you.  It’s a release, the utter force in which his notes move you, freeing that clenching in your chest to roll down your cheeks in rivers of salt and serenity while you sing alone,
I hope it's worth it Here on the highway, yeah I know you'll find your own way When I'm not with you
It’s his turn now, his own four lines you helped him pen find their life through a tender rendition of his tenor, words he loves now after being so unsure he’d ever be able to understand.
The way he sings them now informs you he does.  He understands better than anyone.
So tell everybody The ones who walk beside me, yeah I hope you'll find your own way When I'm not with you tonight
You join him now, elevating the final bars to the song’s melancholy finale, a half a year and more of repressed everything from you marries together with what Gareth’s kept bottled inside.  It bolsters you, makes you better, well-equipped to finish what you started so long ago.
I hope it's worth itWhat’s left behind me, yeahI know you'll find your own wayWhen I'm not with you
So tell everybody The ones who walk beside me, yeah I know you'll find your own way When I'm not with you tonight
Strong.  
That’s the only word that comes to mind to describe the ferocity of your embrace as the chords fade into the heights of the vaulted ceiling; the way your arms wrap awkwardly around his torso from the side, pinning his arms to his body.
“Thank you.”
He clears his throat and tries, but fails to keep the tears from sliding over his eyelids as he croaks a weak you’re welcome into your hair that’s still matted from sleep.
Gareth shudders a breath and smiles as he realizes that you smell fresh, like coconuts.  His traitorous heart stutters fleetingly out of rhythm before he chastises himself, knowing it’s wrong to even think it. 
But he does, anyway. 
He’d rather you smell like him.
Day 174
Three miles there, three miles back.
That’s how far the clearing is from Gareth’s house.  You’d been here with him enough over the last month or so to know, but this time, you come alone.  
Something pulls like an invisible tether to the spot today.  It wasn’t your plan, it wasn’t where you intended to go, but you’re there anyway.  It rained earlier that morning, the ground still wet and soggy beneath your trainers.  A thick haze billows around every tree, so muggy it makes it hard to breathe.
The mist seems to wind endlessly over the forest floor.
There’s an inkling, a curious tug to your surroundings.  You’re alone – you know you are, save for the birds and the small animals that skitter through the brush.  But this feeling – it’s all-consuming.  
You know you’re being watched.
Shouldn’t this frighten you?  Wouldn’t this apprehension and foreboding have you running the opposite direction instead of waking up with such a purpose this morning that you barely gave Gareth so much as a wave goodbye before you took off down the road?
Of course it should frighten you.  You know what madness lurks in the menacing mirror image of these woods underneath Hawkins.  After all, Vecna is still alive – lurking behind a veil of sorts that provokes more questions than it does offer answers.  El had told you that much the last time you had a chance to speak with her alone.
Despite the danger that hangs as heavy as the moisture in the air, you’re running over the trail to the end as if you’ve been summoned.  And shit, maybe you have.  Your heart is thudding with a wild sort of excitement that’s been absent for so long.  
It feels liberating.
You’re not quite sure what you’re looking for as you enter the clearing, but as you creep closer to the table, you’re smothered with a knowing.  Your purpose hits you square in the face as you see it lying inconspicuously over a corner of the worn wood.  
If you could catch your breath properly, you would have muttered something that’d make your late mother blush if she’d heard you.
There on the picnic table – Eddie’s and your picnic table – lies the faded black and white cover of your notebook. The notebook.  The one you gave (or well, thrust at) Eddie a little over a year ago.
The notebook that was kept protected in the depths of Eddie’s closet that you presumed was destroyed, along with the rest of him and everything he and Wayne ever owned.
Preposterous.  Utterly ridiculous.  It’s a fake, someone is surely fucking with you.  You blink rapidly, giving your surroundings a quick check for floaty particles and charcoal gray skies with red-tinged lightning to make sure that you’re not back in that hellscape and in fact, in the correct plane of existence.
“What in the fuck…”  
The battered upper corner that’s blunted into a rounded edge, exposing the same amount of cardboard beneath the chipped patterned cover.  It’s there.  The worn binding that’s practically bleached identical vertical lines into the thick, black tape.  It’s there.  Even your silly little attempt at irony - the inscription brain dump in black Sharpie at the top – it’s all fucking there.
It’s one in the same, and you’re left reeling. 
The only plausible explanation falls in a question from your lips parted in shock.  
“Eddie?”
As soon as you’ve said his name, the woods go silent.  Not a breath of sound is heard; no wind, no rustling of leaves, no sweet call of birds or chittering of critters.  A queer, prickling sensation tickles your neck, and you whip around to scan the space in between the trees.
Searching.  
You swallow your apprehension, willing the thudding of your heart to settle.
“Eddie.”  
It’s a statement.  You can feel him here as certain as you’re alive – he’s there with you in that clearing.  
The air is heavy with a sinister promise, making it hard to breathe.  Thick with the smell of earth, rousing the memory of something similar from your dream just a few nights ago.  Your eyes narrow, willing him to appear between the tangled brush still wet with that morning fog so dense you’re not even sure it was fog to begin with.
Blood rushes through your ears in perfect rhythm to the hammering of your heart.  Time slowly ticks by, and as soon as it arrives, the intention you so fully felt fades.  Nothing bares itself along the edge of the woods, and you huff a frustrated sigh as you turn back to the table to find the pages splayed open to a blank page.
You recklessly reach for it, and then draw back as you see that it’s open to one page
Written in a much neater version of his sharp, angular scrawl reads:
I’ll make a beast out of myself Gets rid of all the pain of being a man
A million thoughts race through your brain – but the one that sticks is monumental.  It’s crazy, it’s certifiably insane, it’s impossible – but it’s here, it’s all the proof that you need.  A careful pinch of your fingers turn the page so carefully constructed as a sign for you and only you, and the words shimmer an oxblood red before fading to the inky black.  
And you know… without a shadow of a doubt.
Eddie’s alive.
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abellalu · 3 months
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Adventures on a Foreign Planet | Chapter 1
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Summary: After narrowly escaping Thanos, Loki is given a chance for a new life. The Avengers allow Loki to live in New Asgard with his brother, Thor. However, The Avengers are not quick to put their trust into Loki. SHIELD Director Nick Fury recruits an Agent who was once said to be one of the most promising SHIELD Agents, to follow Loki and ensure that he has no plans to harm Earth. Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Reader A/N: Hello! This is a new series I've been working on and I'm excited to finally be publishing it. This is just the first chapter, so I hope you stick around to see the full story. [ Masterlist | AO3 ]
Every Asgardian knew the stories of the land that was now supposed to be their home. Many celebrations that were full of food and wine also included the Allfather Odin reminding them of the battle in a small village on Midgard called Tønsberg. The audience would shiver, their shoulders tense as Odin described the land being frozen over by the Frost Giants and their malicious leader, King Laufey; the monsters with blood red eyes and physiques that tower over Asgardians.
The story was always told the same way, with Odin leading the Asgardian army into battle without fear. The War eventually ended in the Frost Giants own realm Jotunheim. But the Midgardian village that eventually grew into a city was still remembered as years later, Odin would ask for the Asgardian worshippers to protect the Tesseract.
At the end of the story, Odin would yell “Asgard will always prevail,” and the crowds would cheer as loud as they could and some would chant the phrase before filling their drinks once more.
Now, their home that they had for centuries was gone. The prophesized apocalypse, Ragnarok, had happened. The Asgardians had needed refuge and their new King Valkyrie, with the advice from the formerly Crown Prince Thor, decided the city from their stories could be their new home. The Asgardians knew there would be no grand celebrations for a long time. 
However, most Asgardians were simply grateful to have a chance to continue their lives. Hela’s takeover of Asgard caused many lives to be lost. But their challenges were not over yet, as Thanos had come for the Tesseract. 
Thanos originally went for another infinity stone on a planet called Xander. But decided against it as rumors his daughters Gamora and Nebula knew of his plans stopped him. Little did he know that his daughters and their friends knew of his new plan to go after the Tesseract. The Guardians of the Galaxy, as they referred to themselves as, followed him. With the help of the Nova Corp and some Ravagers, they were able to fight Thanos. The new legend says Nebula performed the final attack, killing The Mad Titan.   
Not every Asgardian survived the Thanos attack. Most were able to escape quickly in a smaller ship with Valkyrie and Korg. Some decided to stay behind and fight. To ensure Asgard had a future. 
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Everyday since the Asgardians arrived on Midgard three months ago and renamed the city of Tønsberg to New Asgard, the younger prince of Asgard wondered if it would be the day he was sent to a different realm or was executed. 
Loki's last visit to Midgard resulted in a strange wizard putting him in a strange portal where he fell for thirty minutes while Thor was told to take Loki from Earth. Thor easily agreed that his brother was a threat to Earth. The Battle of New York was far from forgotten.
But, now Thor was telling anyone who would listen that Loki had changed and was a hero for the Asgardians. The Avengers did not trust this supposed change of heart and decided to lock up Loki in the Avengers Compound until they decided what they would do with him. Loki did not put up a fight. What was the point?
Thor attempted to make his brother's living situation as comfortable as possible, requesting that he was not put in a cell but rather an apartment like the ones the other Avengers lived in; Tony Stark's AI FRIDAY, ensuring tight security. 
During the months living in the compound, Loki was questioned on a regular basis, mostly by the Avengers but occasionally by military and government officials. But ultimately, everyone agreed that it was up to the Avengers to make the final decision. 
“Why are you here Loki? Planning another massacre in an attempt to be some King? I wanna know what tricks you got up your sleeve this time cause the mind stuff was really impressive but you don’t seem like the person to enjoy repeating tricks?” asked Clint Barton, a man Loki remembers well. He was always one of the harshest interviewers and for understandable reasons. 
The two men are sitting across from each other at a table in Loki’s temporary apartment. Unlike the others, Loki has not been able to add any personal touches. The walls are plain and all the tabletops bare. 
“I do not plan on conquering. My return to your planet is simply because it is where my brother and our people are,” Loki responds. He sounded casual and almost bored, as if this was a phrase he repeated many times. 
Most of his life, Asgard gave him no attention except when he was causing tricks on them. Why would they when they could instead idolize Thor, the golden prince. Now he is constantly trying to convince others that he is a part of Asgard. That he is wanted by the Asgardians. Loki knew it was a lie, but the silvertongue always knew how to lie. 
“Your people? The people who did not want you to become their king so you decided it would be fun to destroy Earth,” Clint almost laughs.
“Fun is not how I would describe my past experience here.” 
The dark haired God never once broke eye contact with Clint as he said “There is much you don’t know about how that attack came to be. I was not the main person who lost that day.” 
Clint leaned back in his chair, sighing. The details given by Loki about his side of the Battle of New York always felt incomplete. He needed to hold back. The truth of those events and what he experienced because of that Mad Titan is something the Avengers didn’t need to know about.
Knowing it was a lost cause, Clint decided to move on. 
“New Asgard is starting to settle down. People are getting used to the situation, more homes are being built. They are starting work and the children are taking lessons again,” Clint offers.
“So I’ve heard.” 
“You helped Asgardians escape Ragnarok, " he leaned against the table, "You think you could create a new life?”
Loki only nodded.
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Mission Assignment Update: Report to Nick Fury at Base 018
You groan as you put your phone back on the nightstand. It was only 6am, but of course the bastard Fury didn’t care that you only got to your apartment past midnight after finishing your latest mission.
It wasn’t an exciting one. There was a rumor that a “dangerous group” in New Jersey was developing technology that could hack anyone including Tony Stark himself. 
And of course like always it was nothing. Just a group of grad students who got pretentious about some of the programs were developing and exaggerated the truth to some of their friends.
Yet, SHIELD still never wanted to take any risks so you were the ever so lucky agent that had to investigate then write a riveting report about how it was nothing.
The notification didn’t include a meeting time, meaning that Fury wants you to be there as soon as possible and no matter what time you arrive, he will complain about you being late. 
Your eyelids still feel heavy as you will yourself to get out of bed. As you slowly gain consciousness you wonder why you even have to go to Fury for your mission assignment. Most of the time you are messaged the directions of the missions and complete it all on your own. 
Eventually you manage to get dressed and run out of your apartment to head to the SHIELD base. It wasn’t a very big one, though most of the facilities weren’t anymore. SHIELD didn’t have much now after the Hydra infiltration. Many resources were gone and so were many agents. 
This base was hidden in plain sight. It was just another skyscraper in New York full of many businesses that each rented a couple floors. As far as the other workers in the building knew, “Secure and Shield Surveillance” was a small technology company that possibly made security cameras or computer protection software. 
No one ever really cared enough to investigate further.
You enter the building and take the elevator to the 8th floor. When the doors open and there you are greeted by the hostile stare of the secretary, Bernadette who has half-moon glasses and dresses as though she is working in the 1950s. Her gray hair is in its usual tight updo that never allows any piece of hair to move from its assigned position. 
“Well look who decided to grace us with her presence today.” 
Bernadette had been a part of SHIELD longer than anyone else (you didn’t know how long because no one would ever risk asking her age). You sometimes wondered if she was always a secretary or if her past jobs were more like yours. 
All you did know was Bernadette believed that SHIELD would be best run if everyone obeyed orders and that she hated you because you always did the exact opposite.
You roll your eyes and respond, “Always nice seeing you too. If I knew you missed me so much I would have visited more often.” 
“How generous.” Bernadette returns to her work, attempting to ignore you still being in the room. 
“I know, when I die I’ll be treated like a saint,” you smile to yourself, knowing that you probably annoyed her enough that she will be irritated for the rest of the day. 
She continues to type on her computer, attempting to maintain a bored face, but you are still pleased because you can see the slight furrow in her brow and her frown deepen. “Director Fury is waiting in his office. A reminder on basic manners dear, don’t leave your boss waiting.”
“Didn’t plan on it Bernadette, I’m always polite.” You are already walking down the hall when you respond, while you attempt to hold your small laugh.
As you enter the office, you see Fury but there was another figure with him. Steve Rogers. You’ve met before many times albeit the encounters were usually very short. 
He has been involved with SHIELD for many years and after the infiltration was revealed, it was he who heavily promoted the idea of reforming SHIELD in hopes of maintaining its legacy. However, he was still most committed to the Avengers and most SHIELD operations were handled by others. 
But now the two men are standing around Fury’s desk, staring at you while you still stand in the doorway. 
“Director, Captain, I hope you plan on explaining to me why we are all here.” 
Fury steps forward towards you, his arms crossed, “Agent, I assumed you would know from the dispatch that we need to talk about your new mission.” 
“Yes, message that provided no details except to meet you here which we both know is irregular. We both don’t have time for this and I assume your other guest, who was not even mentioned on my invitation, doesn’t either.” 
Steve looks apologetic as he says “I apologize that I caught you off guard, that wasn’t my intention.” 
“It was absolutely my intention. Why are you complaining so much? I thought you loved surprises and it's really a shame we don’t see each other more often,” Fury interrupts.
You force yourself to laugh, “Not my fault you didn’t wanna go on a coffee date with me,” you close the door behind you, fully entering Fury’s office “Captain, are you willing to finally tell me about this mission?”
Steve sighs and sits down in the chair beside the desk, “As you know Thor has brought the Asgardians here to Earth, they’ve been rebuilding their home in Norway.” 
You nod. Asgard’s destruction and refuge wasn’t unknown. You heard about some missions of agents being sent to deliver resources and technology to the Asgardians, in an attempt to help them adapt to their new lifestyle. 
But doesn’t explain why Fury and Steve, themselves need to personally explain your mission to you.
Steve continues, “Thor also brought some of his companions with him,” he pauses, “Including his brother Loki.”
You feel your heart drop to your stomach and breaths stop. 
Loki is back on Earth? It has been years since the attack on New York, but no one has forgotten it. At one moment you are sparring with your fellow SHIELD trainees, placing bets on who was going to get assigned a real mission first, then in the next moment it doesn’t matter. SHIELDs Helicarrier was attacked and the perpetrator had escaped.
Everything you learn about their menacing leader was after the attack. SHIELD was able to collect some footage of the tall dark god. The footage was blurry, but yet you can still see the God enjoying himself. The attack was no accident. 
“You let Loki back on Earth? The Asgardians have been on Earth for months, are you trying to tell me you’ve allowed him to be here the whole time. What the fu-”
“Our reasons for allowing him to be here are complicated, Agent. Please try to stay quiet and listen.” Fury starts sounding more and more exhausted, whether by you or the entire situation is debatable. 
Steve looks at Fury then back at you, “When we saw Loki had arrived with Thor, we immediately put him in custody. Thor was upset with this decision and tried to explain to us that- well he believes his brother is good now.”
Thor believes his brother is good?
Fury explains, “Loki apparently did some hero shit when they were escaping Asgard and now Thor believes that his little dream of fighting alongside his brother is possible.” 
The story they are telling you feels like a dream. Or maybe this is a nightmare. It is too unbelievable to be real.
“Do you believe that? This is ridiculous-”
You are interrupted again by Fury “What did I say about you saying quiet and listening. We haven’t even gotten to the best part yet.” 
“We decided to investigate Thor’s claims about his brother. We needed to decide what to do with Loki and we finally came to a conclusion,” Steve stares at me “Loki is moving to New Asgard.” 
Steve continues, “New Asgard is where Thor is and maybe eventually after a while, he might even help the Avengers out. This is a dangerous move we know, but it’s one we believe in,” he pauses. “I believe we can give him a second chance.” 
Steve Rogers, or Captain America as the world knew he always wanted to do the right thing. To believe there is still good in the world even if it felt like it was all following apart. 
And somehow he could even see good in Loki.
You are lost in your thoughts when Fury's voice sneaks into your head. “This is where you come in, Agent.” 
Your head whips around to stare at Fury, your mouth slightly agape. During this meeting, you had become so distracted by this absurd story that you forgot the original reason for you being here.  
"Thor promises to keep an eye on his brother, but we want to be safe," Steve said, "Fury recommended you for the job.” 
You stare at Fury. He was always a calculated man 
"Why did you choose me for this mission?"
"Loki annoys the hell out of me and so do you,” Fury shugs. 
“Ha, very funny,” you say completely expressionless. 
This whole situation was ridiculous. 
But, maybe it was time for a challenge. For years now, every mission you’ve received always felt the same and never truly needed a SHIELD agent to handle it. 
“So, you’re telling me my new mission is to babysit a God?” They both nod cautiously. You pause, making sure you have made up your mind, “So when do I start?”
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glimmervoi · 3 months
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A SEALED FATE: EMERALDS AND BLOOD | II - Trust
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Masterlist
Emeralds and Blood Masterlist
TW: Brief mention of SA
Notes: I'm not the happiest with this, but I have revised this chapter literally so much that it was driving me crazy every time I saw the draft on my tabs. It's not as good as I wanted but I hope you enjoy
The northern wing of the castle was beautiful.
When the older maid who had been tasked with showing you to the wing opened the double doors leading into the northern section, your jaw had instantly dropped to the ground.
The entire wing, at least from what you could see, was decorated in hues of purple and gold. The tall arched windows let in copious amounts of winter sunlight, brightening the colors around you.
The air smelled faintly of jasmine and was warm, despite you not seeing any fireplaces in sight. It was a beautiful space, and it was just the hallway. You were eager to see what the actual rooms looked like.
The older maid stood patiently while you gawked at your surroundings. She didn’t speak, but her eyes were cautiously warm. 
A pang of jealousy shot through you, as you realized that this wasn’t a place that you would be able to enjoy. You were a maid now, and your only duty was to clean and tend to the royal family and their guests. 
You would not have a portrait of yourself painted while you sat on one of the plush purple chairs against the wall. You wouldn’t get to lounge in front of the large windows, watching the gardeners work. You wouldn’t get to sip from a crystal glass of wine as you strolled down the halls.
It was a bitter feeling, knowing that you had been born in the wrong class. That you had come from a poor, starving village where everyone wore rags and had to ration out old, nearly inedible food while less hardworking people were enjoying this.
And this was only one part of the entire castle. There were other wings, different sections in each wing according to Sanria. The castle was massive, all for the King, Queen, and their seven sons. 
You swallowed, your awe replaced by an unhappy feeling. The older maid’s eyes held understanding, and you wondered if she had gone through the same range of emotions when she had first stepped foot into one of the wings of the castle, however long ago that was.
“Sorry, I’m ready to continue.” You murmured, clasping your hands together in front of you. She nodded, and resumed her slow walk further into the wing. At the end, there was a carpeted flight of stairs. 
You wondered how many floors to the wing there were, and if you’d have to climb many stairs to get to your final destination. Just before the steps however, the woman stopped.
You stood in front of a set of tall double doors, painted a pristine white. She knocked gently three times. You heard shuffling from behind the door, and then a moment later it creaked open.
There stood a plump, redheaded maid with striking blue eyes. By far, she had the most color and life to her face that you had seen from any of the staff that you had encountered in the castle yet. 
Of course, you hadn’t come across very many staff, but it was still enough to be notable.
“Claudia, hello!” She said cheerily, placing a hand on her hip. She glanced over at you, giving you a quick once-over. “Brought me a new, unfortunate soul?” She asked.
Your brow raised slightly at that, and you felt a knot in your stomach begin to form. Claudia nodded once and made a movement with her hand that the redhead seemed to understand.
“Alright, thank you Claudia.” She said, patting her arm gently. “Why don’t you go get some lunch before Sanria asks you for yet another thing. She’ll run you into the ground if given the opportunity, but you already know that.” She said, nodding her head towards the exit to the wing. 
You were a bit surprised that this younger maid felt comfortable enough to speak about Sanria in such a way. From the way that Sanria herself spoke, it made it seem as though she ran a tight ship that demanded only the utmost respect for its captain. 
Claudia didn’t seem affected by the comment though and only smiled at her, before waving a farewell to you as she brushed by. You watched as she slowly ambled out of the wing and shut the large doors behind her, leaving you alone with the redhead.
You both were silent for a moment, simply examining each other. Then, the redhead stretched her hand out. “Nice to meet you, my name is Rae.” She said, giving you a large smile. 
You hesitantly took it, and opened your mouth to introduce yourself. She cut you off however, squeezing your hand. “I already know your name, Angellica stopped by while you were cleaning yourself up.”
“Oh.” You deadpanned. She released your hand and wiped invisible dust off of her apron. She moved even further out of the room that she had emerged from and shut the doors behind her.
“Right, well this floor has already been finished and the other housemaids have already moved to the other floors.” Rae said, nodding her head towards the stairs. “Why don’t we head to the second floor and see what needs to be finished there?”
She didn’t wait for an answer as she began to make her way towards the stairs, her hands held behind her back. You quietly followed behind her, unsure of her. She had called you an “unfortunate soul” so surely she wasn’t close with Sanria. 
That didn’t mean she could be fully trusted though. Just because she didn’t sing Sanria’s praise at all times didn’t mean that she didn’t gossip to the headmaid. The last thing you needed was to gossip with her and have it get back to Sanria. 
You were unsure of exactly what she would do to you if she grew angry, but you knew that getting fired wasn’t the worst fate you could suffer in this castle.
As you both climbed the stairs, Rae glanced back at you. “So, has anyone explained anything to you other than the contract that you signed with Sanria?” She asked.
You shook your head. “Only one thing, that I am a morning shift maid. I assume that means there will be night maids that I’ll end up meeting?”
Rae nodded as you rounded the corner to climb the second part of the stairs. “Yes. There are actually a few different kinds of maids here.” She said, gesturing to herself. “We have one of the easier tasks.”
You reached the top of the stairs to the second floor and were once again stunned by the beauty of it. It resembled the first floor, just reversed, but it still surprised you. 
This floor had a few maids in the hall, dusting and polishing and sweeping. Their heads raised as you passed by with Rae, their eyes curious but wary. You gave them all small smiles, hoping to display that you weren’t a threat, but the corners of their lips continued to turn downward.
You turned back to Rae, who continued to lead you down the long hall. “What do you mean, different kinds of maids?” You asked, tilting your head. You weren’t told that you would be cooking anything, so maybe there were specific kitchen maids. Rae had just confirmed there were night maids. What else could there be?
She didn’t answer as she slowed down in front of a set of double doors that were cracked open. She knocked twice, before pushing her way in without waiting for a response. You hesitantly followed, glancing around. 
There was a large, wooden table in the center of the room with a decently sized vase of winter flowers sitting in the middle. Around the table sat about ten chairs. Against the walls were different shelves full of books and what looked to be wooden boxes. It was fairly bland compared to the hallway, and it made you curious as to what the room was for. It felt as though rich people just had rooms to have them, and you couldn’t imagine this room having any practical uses. 
A tall maid stood at the far end of the room with a feather duster in her hands as she stared out of a large window. She was watching something intently, and as you approached her you thought you noticed a figure moving into the woods that were bordering the castle.
“Esther.” Rae said, placing a hand on her shoulder. Esther turned, her green eyes wide and her cheeks pale. Rae’s face changed into an expression that you couldn’t decipher.
“Sorry, I became distracted.” Esther breathed, looking away. She pushed a stray strand of light brown hair away from her face and moved away from the window, her eyes fixed to the ground.
“It’s alright.” Rae said, her voice kind. There was a hint of something underneath it though that had your spine stiffening slightly. “I have a new maid with me today. I can finish this room with her, show her the ropes.”
“Alright.” Esther murmured, hurriedly walking to the silver cart next to one of the bookshelves to the right of the window. Rae stopped her however.
“If you wouldn’t mind grabbing a new cart? You have a perfect cart setup, I’d like to show our new maid what it looks like.” Rae said, nodding towards you. Esther’s eyes flicked up towards your face for only a second before she was looking at the ground again.
“Of course.” She said, placing the duster on the top of the cart. She then hurried from the room, returning the doors to the nearly closed position they were in before you had entered.
You examined Rae, wondering why that interaction had been so strange. While the redhead didn’t seem to be outwardly intimidating like Sanria, the other maids that interacted with her seemed to respect her.
She wasn’t volatile with the two that she had spoken to in your presence, she even made that comment about Sanria to the older maid who had brought you to her. You wondered who she was to the other maids.
You shook the thought away though as Rae motioned you over to the silver cart. It was loaded with various piles of rags of different fabrics, a feather duster, a couple of dark jars, a bucket, mop, and broom. 
It was arranged neatly and made it easy to easily spot where things were. You silently thanked Esther for making your first task easier by not making you hunt for things on the cart.
“This is your cleaning cart.” Rae said, placing her hand on a stack of the rougher looking rags. “Two maids usually share a cart and work on a task together, but Esther’s partner is…” Rae cut herself off, her eyes growing slightly darker.
“Esther is currently doing solo tasks today, hence why she was given an easier room.” Rae finished, picking up one of the rags. “I saw the curiosity on your face when you entered this room, you were probably wondering what the purpose of the room is and why it’s not as fancy as the hall we were just in.”
She didn’t wait for you to reply. “This is a room for informal meetings. While the women like to sit in the nicer rooms, like the northern sun room, the men usually have their meetings here. Bigger table for cards and drinks, less furniture to destroy incase of a drunken fight.”
“I’m not sure if you were told, but in a week’s time the annual winter ball will take place in this castle.” Rae’s eyes glowed and a small smile found its way to her lips. She must like the winter ball a lot.
“The ballroom is filled with lords and ladies, dukes and duchesses, and influential socialites. Of the four seasonal balls, the winter ball is the largest. And of course, a week following the ball is yule, so any guests that went home for the week return for the yule celebration.”
“It sounds interesting.” You said, allowing your imagination to run wild with the images of what the ball might look like. You thought of beautiful silk gowns and warm candles scattered all over, guests dancing under the winter moonlight. 
Another spark in your chest. Jealousy. You pushed the images away and locked them out, determined not to succumb to it on your first day at the castle. Rae was watching you carefully, and you smiled weakly. 
“So, tell me about the other maids?” You raised a brow at her. “You said that there were different kinds, and that we had the easier job. What else is in this castle?”
Rae hummed, her gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before she picked up the feather duster from the top of the cart. As she began to dust off the furniture, you picked up the broom and followed behind her, dusting the wood as she spoke.
“We are just cleaners. We wear the blue dress with the white apron, which identifies us as such. Of course, if we are asked for something by someone of the royal family, or even a guest, we are expected to do as we’re told. But there is a set of maids that specifically handle those things. They’re the service maids.”
“The service maids wear a black dress, as it looks neater than ours, and have different living quarters closer to the southern wing. The southern wing is where the royal family resides. The nightmaids are split between our wing and the southern wing, as they do a little bit of everything.”
“There are the kitchen maids, who handle all of the cooking. They also handle cooking for us, so I really wouldn't recommend pissing them off. They can and will hold meals from you, and Sanria enables it. They may not wear a pretty uniform, but they’re very important. They keep the family happy during meal times, and during special events they’re the ones making the massive amounts of food.”
“Lastly, the Queen’s maids.” Rae stopped dusting and turned to you, her face serious. “Now, I want you to remember this for as long as you stay here at the castle. The Queen’s maids are a special handful of young women that she picks herself. They’re by her side for almost the entire day, every day. They’re practically treated like royalty themselves. I don’t know exactly what they do during the day, but they’re the ones-”
She stopped herself again and swallowed, taking a deep breath to steady herself. “Just be careful. Don’t try to befriend them. Don’t even look at them. You’ll know if you’ve come across one even if the queen isn't around because they wear a much more modest, all white version of our uniform. They wear veils to hide their faces, and they do not speak. They’re completely silent.”
The hair on the back of your neck rose, and you paused in your sweeping. You were unsure of what to say. A hand-picked group of maids who dressed in all white and didn’t speak. That sounded straight out of one of the scary ghost stories that the village boys used to tell to spook you out. 
“It’s only your first day, but mistakes here aren’t tolerated no matter the reason.” Rae said quietly, stepping closer. “I’ve been stuck here for the last eleven years, and I’ve seen countless faces pass through here. Most of them don’t make it out. I’ve seen girls like you suffer awful, awful fates because they weren’t warned.”
Your mouth opened slightly in surprise. Rae had been at the castle for eleven years. That meant that she had renewed her contract twice. But why? It made your stomach turn in anxiety. What if she had to because there was nothing else outside of the castle? What if in five years, you couldn’t find anything else?
And her statement about seeing so many faces…just how bad was the turnover here? You knew that it wasn’t going to be a fairytale life when you had begun the journey to the castle, but as your day progressed you were beginning to realize just how bad things could get. 
You examined Rae for a long moment. She didn’t seem like she was trying to deceive you. Her face held sincerity. You didn’t want to become just another face to her, someone who couldn’t even make it past your first week. Trusting her would be beneficial to you. Any help was appreciated, really.
“Alright.” You breathed, clutching the wooden handle of the broom. “I trust you. What else can you tell me so that I don’t get sent to the dungeons on my first day?”
-
You plopped down on your bed, exhausted. The frame creaked underneath you and you cringed, remembering that this bed was old and had been used by many others before you. 
You pulled your boots off, sighing in relief as you began to massage your sore feet. You had missed lunch, and your stomach was growling like an angry bear that was desperate for food.
You watched as the other maids, which you had learned just did cleaning like you now did, as they slowly filtered into the sleeping chambers. Underneath the warm candlelight and away from Sanria’s eyes, they looked…happier.
There was small chatter that began to spark up in different parts of the room as they found their way to their beds. Some began to immediately change into their brown dresses, sighing in relief as they got out of their stiff uniform, while others sat on the edges of their bed like you and took their time taking their boots off. 
Rae was a few beds down from you, speaking quietly to Esther. You watched them for a few moments, recounting what Rae had told you while you cleaned a particularly messy bathing room on the third floor of the northern wing.
The woman who you had watched Sanria beat earlier that day was Esther’s sister. Her name was Kassie. They had come to the castle together to save up for a new life, as they had come from a poor village like yours. 
Kassie had met a Duke who had unfortunately taken advantage of her while drunk after a dinner with the King. Of course the young maid had reaped the consequences by falling pregnant and being sent to the dungeons. The Duke however? He went home to his own pregnant wife, unscathed.
All of the maids knew what had happened, and had tried to help Kassie out of the castle before she began to appear pregnant. She had been caught by Angellica though, and the result was what you had stumbled into earlier.
Esther was crying, and your heart ached for her. According to Rae, they were very close. You didn’t have any siblings, but you imagined if you did and you were close to them, then it would hurt deeply if one of them was taken from you.
You turned away from the pair, giving them privacy. You unfolded the brown dress that sat next to you on the bed and examined it. The material was the same as your blue dress, a bit scratchy but better than the rags you had arrived in. 
There was no apron that came with it, and on the floor there was a pair of leather flats. Briefly, you wondered if any of the other maids actually left the castle for a night out. And, if they did, if they actually wore such a bland dress.
You stood, looking for a space to change in privacy. You weren’t too keen on changing in front of others, but the bathing room already had others entering for a nighttime bath before dinner. 
You wondered if there was a closet outside of the room that you could hide in while you quickly changed, but before you could leave to check a slender brunette interrupted you. 
She wore a black dress with a white apron, and you recognized her from Rae’s description as a service maid. She stood straight with her hands clasped in front of her, a kind smile on her pretty face.
“There aren’t any other spaces for you to change.” She said, her voice soft. You furrowed your brows, about to ask how she knew that that was what you were looking for. 
“You’re probably wondering how I knew, right?” She asked, her brown eyes sparkling. You nodded. Were you really that easy to read? If so, you didn’t think you’d survive very long behind the castle's walls.
“Every new maid struggles with that.” She said, gesturing around her. “It can be a bit embarrassing the first few times. You get used to it though. Also, you were gripping the dress as you looked around, and I figured it wasn't because you were super happy about having it.”
“Ah.” You replied, looking down at the dress. You truly did not want to change in front of the others, but if it was how this service maid said, then you would have to.
“Like I said, you’ll get used to it.” She repeated, reaching her hand out. “My name is Alice, by the way. I’m a service maid, but I dropped by to speak with Rae.” 
You took her hand and shook it,returning her friendly smile. “I assume you already know my name, too?” You asked, recalling how Angellica had told Rae before you had even signed your contract.
Alice nodded, releasing your hand. “Rae and I are not supervisors of our stations, but we’re just underneath. When Sanria and Iseul get a new employee, we find out right away too.”
Rae had described Iseul to you earlier. She was the head of the service maids and was just as cruel as Sanria. She was young for her position, but still found the audacity to speak down to the more experienced maids. Supposedly, Sanria had helped her get the position after the former head of service passed of old age.
“You won't see me very often, as I have different responsibilities throughout my day. If you need anything however, then you can find me in the southern servants chambers around mealtimes and after dinner. You’re allowed to enter even if you’re not a service maid as long as you’re not doing something you’re not supposed to.” Alice said, clasping her hands together again. “See you around?”
You nodded, thanking her. She turned and made her way to Esther and Rae, where she crouched down in front of the crying woman. She seemed to begin whispering kind words to her. 
Once again, you turned away to give them privacy as you sat back down on your bed. Now, you had two people to look out for you. You stared down at your dress, frowning.
You had an uneasy feeling in your stomach despite the kindness of Rae and Alice. While you trusted Rae a little more than when you had first started, she hadn’t told you that she was directly under Sanria. It added a new twist.
You weren’t sure if you liked that. Combined with the winter ball that was coming in a week, and the yule celebration directly after it, things were about to become very busy. It meant more room for mistakes and more of a chance to get in trouble.
You sighed softly. You knew why you needed to be here, but you were regretting your decision to sign Sanria’s contract. The more you found out about the castle, the more you realized just how hard it was not to get in trouble.
Around every turn and corner was an opportunity to be punished. Rae couldn’t protect you from everything, and you were bound to slip up.
Five years never looked so long.
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duskyashe · 9 months
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CAMP NANO DAY 1
Calling All The Monsters part 4 chapter 1
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Jason was more than ready to get this over with. Unlike the others, he'd known he wasn't fully human for years, pretty much ever since he'd come back from the dead. Looking back on it, he'd even known the others were slowly changing, too, he just hadn't had the words. He hadn't known there even were words for the feeling of slowly finding his footing among others that were just as inhuman as himself. Well, other than relief.
As soon as Dick confirmed when and where the kid was willing to host tutoring sessions for all of them ("He said he wanted to work with each of us individually, first, but that he was willing to work with groups of up to three at a time if B was more comfortable with that," Dick said with a thoughtful frown, cowl held loosely in one hand. "Personally, I think the first meeting should definitely be two of us, but the rest should be played by ear, but it's your call, B,") Jason was nearly vibrating out of his own skin in anticipation. Answers to all his questions about himself, from his first fully conscious thought after his dip in the Pits to a reaction he'd had to something just last Tuesday, were just out of his reach and he could feel his frustration and impatience building in the back of his throat. Grimacing, he swallowed the urge to vocalize his feelings before taking a deep breath. It was only an hour more before Condor and Starling would be meeting up with their new tutor, he could hold out that much longer. He could.
"You alright there, Jay?" Steph asked as she entered the cave. Her long blonde hair was braided tightly against the crown of her head in preparation for getting in costume.
He shakily let out the breath he'd taken and nodded in her direction. "Just anxious," he said, meticulously going over his guns yet again. He was mostly suited up, himself, just needing to mask up and slip his gloves on. He'd initially had his gloves on, but cleaning his guns was easier and more grounding barehanded, so off they'd come.
She gave him a searching look. "You really believe Phantom, don't you?" Steph asked after a moment.
Jason paused his movements and let out a sigh. "Yeah. Yeah, I do," he replied, setting his cleaning rag to the side and finally looking directly at her instead of just from the corner of his eye. "Look, I'm pretty sure it was fairly obvious to B, Dick, and Alfie, and maybe Tim saw it, too, but I didn't come back from death the same as I was before. And I don't mean "the trauma of my death changed me"," he said with finger quotes, rolling his eyes at the same time. "I mean I literally didn't come back fully human. At the latest, I've known I wasn't fully human since shortly after everything that happened with Tim, but it's far more realistic to say I've known, at least on some level, ever since I first came out of the Pit." Jason sighed and ran a hand through the tuft of white hair that liked to fall into his eyes. "Looking back, almost every single fight between me and another member of the family, except Damian, started because I either misunderstood something someone said or took insult where none was meant, because I reacted based on instinct and emotion first instead of logic, and while I've gotten better at thinking crap through before I respond, interactions between all of us for the past year and a half have been noticeably less tense and have resulted in a lot less bloodshed. That's not all on me, and neither is it all on the Demon Spawn finally starting to get a clue."
"Alright," Steph said, the gears in her head almost visibly turning. "Putting aside you knowing years ahead of us that it was possible to start out human and end up not, what do you mean by almost every fight between you and a different family member except Damian? Are you saying the fights between you two were that different than all the others?"
He blinked at the blonde in incredulity for a moment. "Steph… Damian's from a warrior culture," he said slowly, praying he didn't need to spell it out for her. She just blinked blankly back at him and he let out a soft curse under his breath. No luck. "Out of the entire family, only four of us have been trained by the League of Assassins, and B didn't exactly keep up with the cultural practices after his stay with them. Cass may have picked up on a lot of those practices from her sperm donor and whatever other trainers he allowed her to train under, but she didn't have all of them and didn't really understand what she had picked up or how to actually apply it. I was the only one who, in Damian's eyes at the time, was cultured and spoke a familiar language. He saw me as someone who was reliable, and a part of me saw him in a similar light due to my own experiences with the League right after my resurrection. Fights with the Demon Spawn were more like training spars while fights with pretty much everyone else were basically honor duels." How has this not come up before now? Are the others just as clueless about this crap? Jason wanted to shake some common sense into some of his siblings, maybe scream a little in frustration. If the only ones who knew anything accurate about his and Damian's relationship were literally just the two of them, he was going to be so disappointed in his family…
Steph looked like she was going to say something more on the subject when Bruce and Babs entered the cave, Babs heading to the Batcomputer while Bruce walked over to the two of them.
"I had a feeling you two would still be down here. Steph, go get changed, I'll help you with your hair pins before you head out, okay?" Bruce asked. Steph gave a sloppy salute and skipped off to the changing rooms, though Jason could tell she wasn't going to let their conversation drop that easily. Bruce took a moment to watch Steph go, and Jason got back to cleaning his guns as he waited for his father Bruce to say his piece. "Are you alright, Jaylad? You usually aren't this anxious before an op, especially an information gathering one like this."
Jason finished rubbing down the last part that needed attention before quickly reassembling his guns. "At the beginning, back when the Demon Spawn first came to live with us, did any of his interactions with the family stand out as different to you?" Jason asked instead. He switched to checking his hidden ammo pouches, making sure everything was topped off. He wasn't expecting a fight tonight, but he needed something to keep his hands occupied.
A hand, scarred and familiar, caught his attention as it came to rest on his own. "I've always known yours and Damian's relationship was special to both of you. You both got each other in ways the others are still trying to understand. And yes, I'm aware a large part of that is due to your time with the League, I'm not as blind to your dealings with your siblings as you all seem to think I am," Bruce said with a chuckle. He brought his other hand up to gently raise Jason's head, making eye contact soon after. "I'm grateful you were able to give Damian a small slice of his first home when I couldn't, Jason. While I wish neither of you had ever been in the situations that lead to you both being with the League, I'm grateful those experiences were able to bring you two closer together as brothers."
He stared at Bruce in shock for a moment before clearing his throat and looking away. "Damn it, B, warn a man before you bring out the emotion talk," he said, stalwartly pretending his eyes weren't misty.
Jason saw Bruce smile out the corner of his eye as his father patted his shoulder with the hand that had been on his cheek. "My bad, sorry about that. Finish getting ready then meet by the Batcomputer for a quick briefing," he said before walking away.
As Jason finished checking his ammo pouches and slid his gloves back on, he couldn't help but smile to himself at the faint, almost tangible, warmth in his chest. Things had really changed in the past year and a half, and for the better, at that.
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Danny was both excited and nervous for what this evening would entail. He'd been obsessively going over everything he'd ever been taught about the various non-human beings that called Earth and its various pocket dimensions home in preparation for this night. He didn't know who he was meeting with first, nor did he know how many of Batman's clan he was meeting with, so he and his Fright had probably gone a bit overboard with potential lesson plans. He just wanted to give the Bats a good first lesson about their various species and the instincts and abilities that are a part of them.
He was waiting at the rooftop shrine where he met with Raven, once more sitting cross-legged about a foot above the roof. It had been almost two weeks since he and Raven had set up these lessons, and he was eager to get started. The current plan was that for the initial lessons, if everything worked out during this first one, Danny would be meeting each publicly known member of the Batclan at that exact shrine for basically what boiled down to essentially bookwork before eventually moving on to hands-on training with their current and future abilities at a different, more secure location. He had to admit, it was a pretty good system for having been developed at the drop of the hat between two beings who didn't even know each other yet.
A sudden burst of flame on the corner of the roof drew Danny's attention to Condor's arrival. Y'know, Danny thought with eyes wide with awe as the hooded form of Condor stalked out of the fire with a predatory grace, little tendrils of fire chasing after him, if we'd known Condor literally appeared in a burst of flames at times, lich would have been the last thing we thought of. It's so freaking obvious he's a phoenix that in hindsight I feel like an idiot.
The faint rustle of feathers against fabric had him turning around just in time to see Starling drop down from on top of the shrine and land in a stooped crouch, feather headdress flowing in the breeze as her head tilted ever so sightly to the side, the hood of her own costume shading her face enough to make the florescent red lenses of her full face mask stand out starkly.
"We aren't late, are we?" A soft, almost lyrical voice asked from behind Danny, brimming with power and potential but holding nothing but eagerness and nervousness. Condor's voice was most definitely masculine, but it was almost impossible to tell if it were tenor, baritone, or bass as it seemed to be all of them at once. It was captivating and bone chilling all at once.
Danny looked over his shoulder, more sure in his assumptions of the species of these two vigilantes than ever before. "Not at all, you're right on time. Shall we begin?"
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HEY EVERYONE!!! So sorry for the wait, I meant to get this chapter finished and published back in May, but, well... That obviously didn't happen (⁠^⁠~⁠^⁠;⁠)⁠ゞ also, you may have noticed something different about this part (⁠ ͡⁠°⁠ ͜⁠ʖ⁠ ͡⁠°⁠) yes, that's right, part 4 of this series has been broken into chapters!!! This will mainly come into play on AO3, as part 4 will be a multi chapter fic over there (as well as actually have a title (⁠;⁠^⁠ω⁠^⁠)) but I thought it was important to acknowledge it here, too!
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ohtobeleah · 1 year
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Puzzle Pieces //
Chapter Two: “Fire & Grace” (Hawkeye)
Summary: As Jake is plagued with nightmares of what he thinks will happen when the love of his life wakes up—it’s the total opposite that takes him by surprise.
Warnings: Jake Seresin x Reader (Hawk) Angst. mentions of F-18 crash & injuries sustained from said accident. Hospitalisation. Marriage crisis?
Word Count: 3.1k
Author Note: Ya’ll can thank me for the small about of reprieve you get with this one. Before anyone asks, I wrote the Chaos update before the Hawk update—
Season One of Chaos | Season Two of To Have & To Hold | Season Two Puzzle Pieces |
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‘Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice. From what I've tasted of desire I hold with those who favour fire. But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate. To know that for destruction ice Is also great. And would suffice.’ ~ Robert Frost 
“Hey.” It’s the familiar southern drawl of Robert Floyd that’s drawing Jake Seresin back from the ledge he was boarding on. “You doing alright in here?” It’s a straight yes or no question but the answer is nowhere near that simple. It’s four in the morning and Jake hasn’t slept so nice yesterday morning, he’s got six stitches near his temple and a fierce headache that throbs every few seconds. 
“Been better.” Is all the disheveled aviator says back as he grips your hand tight in his. Bradley had brought him a change of clothes, knowing Jake wasn’t leaving your side anytime soon. Never letting his eyes linger away from your face, still and void of any expression as you slept. The anastasia wearing off slowly from the hours upon hours you had been in surgery for. 
Jake sat right at your bedside too afraid to let you go for even a second because in that second you could be ripped away from him. 
“What are you doing here, it's like four in the morning?” He asked with a query in his tone, Jake swore time moved differently inside the Miramar Base Hospital, it was like a damn vortex. Time either stood still or it went by at the blink of an eye. There was no middle ground, no in between, and as he sat there waiting for you to come back to him he felt like time had stopped all together just to reveal in the pain that he felt in his chest. 
“Chaos had an episode—“ Bobs mulling under his breath but Jake catches it clear as day in the silence of the intensive care unit. “Brought Rooster in, thought I’d come sit with Javy.” He was only next door. He’d come out of surgery two hours before you. “Any updates on her leg?” 
“Doc said it’s just a waiting game to see if the surgery takes well, but there’s a chance she still might lose it if the tissue starts to die.” It’s at this point in the meek conversation where Jake looks up, from across the room it’s not hard to tell he’d been crying. Bob wishes he could do more for the family he was watching fall apart, the furnace inside him burning with rage. “If Javy wakes up will you tell him it’s not his fault, any of it.” Jake couldn’t will himself to leave your side. He was far too afraid to move. 
“I doubt he’ll be awake anytime soon but I’ll keep it logged away.” Bob pressed his lips together into a soft smile that disappeared far too quickly. Tapping the doorway three times before carrying on his way to the room just next door. 
He sat with Javy for the better half of the morning. Underestimating just how tired he really had been and for what felt like the millionth time over the past month, found the chair in the corner of the hospital room comfortable enough to curl up on and seek refuge in for a measly few hours rest. 
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“I know you can’t hear me.” Jake let his head rest against the mattress of the hospital bed you laid on. He’d gently placed your hand against his cheek, your palm resting heavily against the slight scruff covered cheek that faced the ceiling. “But I miss you gorgeous.” He choked back tired tears as he spoke into the void that was eating him alive. “Just need you to know that I'm here for you when you decide to come back to me alright?” 
“What if I don’t want you here?” Your voice was cold as ice as the hairs on the back of Jake's neck stood to attention. “Because of all the people on this earth I'd wanna see right now it’s the person who put me on the F-18.” 
“I know, I’m so sorry baby, you have to believe me.” Jake felt the fire in your gaze buring into him as he sat up, his shoulders slumped as his hair went any which way it wanted. “I didn’t know—“
“You didn’t know what Jake? That I was afraid?” You hissed, raising your voice just enough to make him tense at the thought of you being afraid. “Didn’t know I was terrified of flying and you still pressured me into it?” 
“I don’t blame you for hating me—“ Jake whispered as he held back tears, feeling you rip your hand away from his as he reached for you. “But baby please believe me when I say how sorry I am.” 
“YOU'RE SORRY?” It was the tone you used that sent Jake into the spiral of despair he’d been on the edge of since he watched you and Coyote go down. “I lost my leg because of you, I’ll lose my job, my career! Everything I achieved after I washed my hands of you and your bullshit just to be sucked back in for you to destroy me—“ It was harsh, but none of it wasn’t true. Jake knew it. “I lost everything when I trusted you, I’m glad I don’t remember falling in love with you again, it was clearly the worst mistake I ever made.” 
“Jake.” Another voice broke through the reprimanding you were giving him. More gruff, less strained. “Hangman.” There it was again. Pulling him out of the void as Jake shot up with a slight snore, leaving a pool of drool against the mattress he’d fallen asleep in. Still sitting next to your bedside. “You fell asleep.” Bradley frowned as he stepped back to allow his friend some space. “Thought I’d come down and check in, you alright man?” 
“Peachy—“ Jake groaned as he sat back, wiping the corner of his lips as he turned to look at you. You were still out. He liked this version of you a Lyell of a lot more than the version his nightmares had concocted. “Bob said Chaos has a setback?” 
“Yeah, she’ll be alright though, she’s just now starting to get her memory back in bits and pieces from the crash.” Bradley explained as he walked over to take a look at your chart. “Beck said it’s PTSD and you know how Chaos is when people tell her shit she doesn’t wanna hear.” Bradley mumbled and Jake smiled in response, chuckling for a second because well—Rooster wasn’t wrong. “Says here she’s stable, shouldn’t be too long till she’s back on deck.” 
“Think I’m afraid for the moment that happens if I’m being perfectly honest.” Jake let out a soft nervous laugh as he stood from the chair he’d been sitting in for far too long. “I’ve never been more afraid of losing someone, but I'm not ready man.” Jake just stood at the head of your bed watching as you slept, shaking his head to Will away the tears that just poured freely. 
“Ready for what?” Rooster asked as he did the same, knowing that the positions the two of them found themselves in were eerily similar yet so different at the same time. 
“To find out she knows how to forget me.” Jake's bottom lip quivered at the thought. “I'd rather hear how much she regrets me.” It was hard to admit, but if you asked him to give you up he would in a heartbeat if that meant you were happy. He’d still love you regardless if you were his wife or not. “And pray to God that she never met me, but I can’t hear her say she forgot how much I love her.” 
“Can you two please talk a little quieter?” You mumbled out as you groaned, moving slightly as you lulled your head the other way to stretch your neck. “M’tired.” Jake frowned, immediately turning to Rooster who just turned to him with a shrug before deciding that he didn’t need to be here for this. 
“That an order Commander?” Rooster smirked, knowing your answer would give him some indication of where your headspace was at. Noticing how the corner of your mouth turned in on itself for a split second. “If so I’ll make myself scarce—“
“If it needs to be.” Jake could have lunged at you, but he settled for something less abrasive and rushed around to your side, leaning in and over to place a kiss to your forehead—When you didn’t groan in disgust his heart exploded in his chest. “Hi—“
“How you feeling Mrs Seresin?” Troubled waters can appear calm on the surface, Jake was just waiting for the moment you realised you hated him. Jake was waiting for you to tell him to get the hell away from him, that you didn't want to see him, didn't want to talk, to listen to how sorry he was. 
“Feeling a little groggy from all the pain meds.” You couldn’t really talk properly, your mouth felt so dry. Jake could hear it in your voice as he reached out to hand you the little plastic cup on your bedside. “What have they got me on?” 
“An absolute concoction of pain relief my love but hydromorphone to name just one off the top of my head.” he would take this if everything came crashing down around him. Jake would take this slither of hope that you were still his best girl, his wife, if you remembered how much you loathed him. 
“Huh, no wonder I can't feel my legs.” You sighed, settling back down after having a small sip of water. Jake just smiled at you, tears streaming down his face as Bradley left the room, making sure to turn his head one final time to make sure Jake had at least managed to sit his ass down this time before passing out from the relief of hearing your voice again. “What happened to your forehead?” Reaching out for Jake's cheek he caught your hand his his, pulling it to his lips as he kissed your palm over and over. 
“You don't need to worry about me, pretty girl, I'm far better than alright now that you’re awake.” Jake had grace under fire, you had fire and grace. “I thought I'd lost you.” 
“That easy?” you chuckled softly, it quickly turned into a cough before Jake was sending you a worrying look. “I'm tougher than I look.” 
“The toughest girl I know.” Continuing to kiss your palm over and over again Jake smiled against you. “I will never forgive myself for putting you in this position my love, I just keep thinking if I could take your spot for a day that that would wash all of your problems away.” Jake would give anything to trade places with you, to take all your hurt and all your suffering and carry it on his shoulders. 
“If you were in my place Jake–” Jake didn't let you finish before he was cutting you off. 
“You’d see your fire and grace.” He whispered, leaning in as close as the chair beside your bed would allow him to without physically crawling in beside you. Tubes and wires and monitors surrounded you and he was so afraid that he’d bump something and accidentally send you into a parallel universe far far away from him. “What do you remember baby, I wanna know where that brave and beautiful head is at.” You remembered every single second but you just couldn't bring yourself to say it. In the silence that lingered when neither you nor Jake were speaking, amongst the sounds of your monitors and machines you could hear the sound of all the systems failing as Coyote shouted at you to eject. 
“Coyote? Is he alright–?” Even on your own deathbed you were worrying about others. Jake couldn't love you anymore if he tried to find room in his heart. 
“Doctors say that you saved his life, broke his ribs doing so but you saved his life baby.” Jake explained as he admired you, so broken yet so strong, he could see the light had faded in your eyes but you were still there. “For a while there the medics thought you had amnestic syndrome, you were calling yourself Lieutenant Commander when one of the medics Rach called you Commander and you couldn't remember me, well–us.” You didn't remember that, everything from the time you realised help had arrived to now was still a little blurry, but the accident itself? Every second, every agonising firy moment you could remember as clear as day. “And it's not the hydromorphone that's causing you to not feel your legs baby.” Jake sighed as he looked at you looking at him like you could take anything he was about to tell you. How you and Choas had managed to overcome such fucking adversity and still be the stronger  half of both Jake and Bradley they would never understand. “Doctor Beck thinks that your body shut down from the shock.” Jake had to take a moment to prepare himself for the response he'd get from letting you know you might lose your leg all together. “But if your right leg doesn't come good soon, he might suggest–” 
“Please don't say it.” you interrupted, knowing where Jake was going.” I can handle anything but that.” You were on the verge of tears. “Jake, honey–if I lose my leg I lose my entire career.”
“You almost lost your life and you're worried about your career?” 
“I wouldn't have almost lost my life if you and Coyote would have just backed the fuck off.” Ah. there it was, Jake had expected it to sound cruller and a lot more scathing, but it wasn't. It left your lips softer than he’d anticipated it, wrapped in bubble wrap as if to not wound if fragile estate. “The Navy won't even blink an eye to toss me aside like yesterday's baked goods, you know it, I know it, everyone knows it.” You weren't fighting, or arguing, in fact, you barely had your eyes open as you spoke just above a whisper, still collecting your thoughts and trying to silence the noise of Coyote screaming your name in your head. “Doesn't matter how hard I worked or how much I love what I do, I won't come back from this.” 
You were at war with yourself, Jake could see that as clear as day. You wanted to run before you could crawl and he’d seen a very similar issue in a certain pain in the ass a level above where he was right now. Standing, Jake pulled his dog tags up and over his head before he ever so gently placed them around your neck, Yours had been lost in the crash. 
“You are Commander Y/n Hawkeye Seresin.” He started with a proud chest. “You won’t always be her, hell, one day you might even be chief of the fucking Navy Y/n.” You couldn't help but to laugh for a moment as you thumbed at the two gold rings that Jake had strung around his tags. He had his ring tattooed early into your marriage but he took his physical ring everywhere in the world with him. When he’d had you bloodied and unconscious in his arms he had taken your ring off in case your hand started to swell. Keeping it safe until he found the right time to give it back to you.
“When I married you I promised you in sickness and in health and I meant that baby, I promised that to Ensign Hawkeye Seresin, and now I’m standing here, reminding Commander Seresin that she is and will always be my wife and my best fucking friend before she is ever some ranking official even though I am the most proud of you for everything you achieved after you left my sorry ass behind.” Jake leaned in to kiss your lips, you hummed against him as the oxygen tube slipped slightly. Pushing it back up into your nose as Jake pulled away to continue professing his love, his admiration for you because there was a moment there he thought he'd never get to do that again. “I loved you well before the Navy was ever involved and I will love you well after the Navy is done with us baby.” 
Through a painful sob you just couldn't hold back, you reached out to cup Jake's face as he cried with you, both trying hard to stop your bottom lips from quivering as you asked the one question that had already begun to haunt Jake's nightmares. 
“Why the fuck did you have to put me on that jet baby.” You cried through heartbreaking sobs as Jake let his forehead rest against yours in defeat, leaning over you with his hands on either side of your pillow. His tears falling against your cheek as he shut his eyes tight, mixing with your own. “Why Jake, this is so fucking fucked.” 
“I'm so sorry.” It didn't matter how many times he said it, but Jake Seresin would never ever forgive himself for the decision he made to push you into facing a fear that resided deep inside you since before he could remember. “I’m so sorry—“ He cried like a boy who’d lost his favourite toy, like his entire world had fallen apart, been turned upside down and on its head. “I’m never going to forgive myself, ever, I hope you know that—and I never expect you to forgive me either.” 
You had no idea what tomorrow would bring, or the day after that, or the day after that even. But what you knew for sure was that whatever came your way, Jake was going to be by your side every second. He loved you enough to own his mistakes and he loved you enough to understand that you may never be able to accept his internal apology. But he was here and he was raw and hurting just as much as you. 
“Just promise you won’t leave me.” It was all you could muster, a pleading whisper in hopes that your husband wouldn’t leave you. You knew the statistics—they didn’t sway in your favour. “Don’t leave me Jake, please.” 
Jake didn’t think his heart could break any more than it had been since he watched you fall from grace, but in the moment you begged him to stay he broke in two, completely. Splitting himself in half at the seam. 
“Darlin I’ll never leave you, you’re my fire and grace.”
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Read Bradley x Chaos POV Here
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yandereinc · 1 year
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Isekai - Yandere!ShalnarkxFem!Reader 05
All chapters Previous chapter Synopsis: You have an unfortunate encounter with Truck-kun which leads you to wake up in the HXH universe.
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"So, let's get to know each other, Y/N."
Those words brought a grimace to your face. You already knew too much about Shalnark and you weren't interested in him getting to know you better. He and the troupe could abuse your powers and you did not want to help a bunch of mass-murdering thieves,
"Alright, I suppose… How about we take turns asking questions?" You suggested. You really didn't want to but you doubted that you could make Shalnark change his mind. The only comfort was that wasn't Pakunoda, he couldn't tell if you were lying or not.
Your suggestion pleased him immensely, as evident by the smile he wore.
"I would say ladies first but since you know so much about me already I think it's only fair if I go first," Shalnark smiled.
He didn't even wait for a response from you to ask his question.
"Where are you from?"
You expected a question like that. While you could just reply with your hometown you were sure that would bite you in the ass sooner or later. Seeing as this world was different from your own the change that your hometown existed in any shape or form was small.
You did your best to think of a place they mentioned in the anime. But the only two places that came to mind were Whale Island and Kukuroo Mountain. You didn't want to drag Mito and the other residents of Whale island down with you if things went south but Kukuroo mountain wasn't an option either. That's where the Zoldycks lived and a Zoldyck you were not.
You wanted to say York New but he would question why you were staying at a hotel if you really came from here. Not to mention since he looked you up already he knew you had no history of living anywhere.
"Pass." You ended up saying, realizing you were lost in your thoughts by the way Shalnark smiled at you.
"Pass?"
"Yeah, how about we each get 5 passes? Dates might be for getting to know each other better but this is still just our first date." You tried to reason with him.
He responded with a sigh before resting his cheek on the palm of his hand. "Only because you're so cute." Shalnark grinned.
"Great. That makes it my turn now. Why is Phinks here?" You asked as you looked at the other blonde.
He was currently sitting alone at a table. Having dinner by himself. You wonder why nobody joined him. While Uvogin would stand out too much in this crowd another spide could surely join him.
"I asked him to join as backup."
You were surprised the spider would admit he asked Phinks to join as backup. Almost a little flattered that he thought he needed reinforcements to deal with you.
"My turn again! How much do you know about the phantom troupe?"
That question almost made you grin. You were glad he didn't ask any personal questions. On top of that, you knew a lot about the phantom troupe. While you didn't read the manga you have read too many wikia pages.
"Enough. But if you want me to tell you everything I know about you guys I want another three passes." You figured trying to bargain with him could help you avoid his questions about yourself. Five passes seemed like a lot but you didn't know how long this date would last.
This clearly intrigued him and he took a few moments before he nodded. "That sounds good to me. Now tell me what you know."
Glad that he agreed you took a sip of your wine before speaking up again.
"I know that you all have spider tattoos. Your rank is on the spider's back. I know that you're number 6 and that there are 13 members in total." You paused to get a good look at him. So far you haven't really said anything that was too important but he still looked fairly impressed with you.
"I know the names of everyone in the troupe. Your leader is named Chrollo and has number one. Number one is Nobunaga. Number 2 is Feitan. Number 3 is Machi. Number 4 is Hisoka. Number 5 is Phinks. You're as I already said number 6. Franklin is number 7. Number 8 is Shizuku. Number 10 is Bonolenov. Number 11 is Uvogin and number 12 is Kortopi."
As you numbered the members his smile only seemed to widen. He was about to say something but you cut him off,
"And yes I do know your nen abilities."
The moment you said that you regretted it. Panick covered your features as he looked at you in delight.
"Do you now?" He asked, excited to know that you knew about nen. Eager to learn your abilities because again you had a leg up to him.
"If you want me to name them all you'll have to give me another three passes," you told him.
"It's fine. I think it's time to end this date anyways."
His words surprised you but not as much as the antenna that was flung your way. Only to have it ricochet off of your skin and onto your lap.
"You should've let me finish speaking. I could've told you that your antennas won't work on me, Pretty boy," you grinned at him. Holding up the antenna as you rested your cheek on your free hand. Mimicking the position he put on earlier.
You expected a lot but he surprised you yet again.
"You think I'm pretty?" He asked with a very enthusiastic smile. Making you blush from embarrassment.
"I mean yeah, but I mostly said it to taunt you," you admitted sheepishly. Your previous cool demeanor melted away like snow on a hot winter's day.
Your shy demeanor made him chuckle. "I was hoping to do this the safest way but that's alright. It would be a shame to turn you into a puppet anyways. And this way we can talk on our way," Shalnark smiled.
You just raised your eyebrow at him.
"Sorry, I was getting ahead of myself." Shalnark chuckled. "I was going to use black voice to take you back to our base. But since that won't work on you you'll just have to come willingly," he explained.
While you were sure as hell didn't want to join them to their base you had no other option. "Just so I don't jump to conclusions what will you do if I don't?"
"Phinks and I will kill everyone here." Shalnark smiled at you as if he didn't just say he would commit atrocities if you didn't join him.
You closed your eyes and sighed. "Fine." You wanted to say that he owed you dinner since you were hungry but that wasn't true.
You don't feel hungry at all despite the fact that you hadn't eaten lunch. You realized that godmode must stop you from feeling hungry too. Nor did you feel the need to go to the bathroom. You wondered what else godmode did. But unfortunately, you weren't allowed to ponder for long.
Shalnark stood up and walked towards you. Helping you out of your seat and making you cling to his arm the same way as before.
You saw him nod at Phinks who nodded back. The blonde got out of his seat and left the building. You and Shalnark soon followed him. You noted that they didn't pay but nobody stopped them.
The car you ended at was a lot less flashy than you thought they would drive but you didn't care.
Ever the gentleman Shalnark opened the door for you. Carefully you climbed into the car. Once comfortable you noticed that Phinks was in the driver's seat while Shalnark joined you in the backseat. His arm around you to pull you against him.
When you looked up you realized that Phinks was looking at you through the rearview mirror. More precisely he was ogling you through the rearview mirror. When he finally did look up at your face you raised his eyebrow at him. Almost giggling when you saw him blush before looking away to focus on driving out of the parking lot.
Feeling a bit out of place now in your fancy dress you turned to Shalnark who was surprisingly quiet for a guy who only minutes ago implied he wanted to talk to you during the ride.
"Would you mind if I changed?" You asked him. Your regular clothes were in your inventory and you'd rather not have anyone ogle at you like Phinks just did.
Shalnark looked at your face before turning his gaze at the small bag you were holding. Probably wondering what could possibly be in that bag. Feeling intrigued he nodded.
"Of course," he grinned. A sparkle in his eyes. You wondered why he seemed so excited until you realized why. He probably thought you would undress.
Well, he was in for a rude awakening. Just like in a video game, you could instantly equip clothes. No undressing needed. So you opened your menu and made your way to the inventory. Your hand movements confused Shalnark but he didn't comment on it.
Within a blink of an eye, you were changed back into your regular clothes. Your purse and fancy clothing now safely in your inventory.
Once you closed your menu again you noticed Shalnark staring at you. Smiling as always. He was about to say something but you cut him off.
"How long until we get there?"
Surprisingly it was Phinks who replied. "Twenty minutes," he said, making you sigh. Since you'd rather not talk to Shalnark you had to find another way to kill some time. Luckily you still had all those game guides in your inventory.
Since you already showed them you could make items disappear and appear at will you decided it wouldn't hurt. So you once again opened your menu to retrieve a game guide.
This time however Shalnark gasped. As quick as lighting he grabbed your wrists in one of his hands. Making you raise his eyebrow at him. For a second you were confused until you remembered Chrollo's ability.
"Relax, it's just a game guide." You held the book up to show the cover to him. "It's nothing like Bandit's secret, just an ordinary book," you explained. Hoping both of them would calm down. Both as you saw Phinks flinch when the game guide appeared.
They did. A little bit.
Phinks glanced at you through the rearview mirror. Deciding to let Shalnark handle things. Shalnark's smile was still there. He didn't say anything. Instead, he used his free hand to take the game guide from you. Looking through it to confirm that it was in fact a regular book.
A delighted smile broke out on his face. "It's just a game guide," he said excitedly. Letting go of your hands so he could properly read the book.
Glad that he let go of your hand while simultaneously annoyed that he stole your book you contemplated opening your inventory to get another guide out. But since you didn't want either of them to panic again you decided against it.
Luckily Shalnark handed your book back only a few moments later. You didn't thank him when he handed it to you. Which made him pout.
"You know, you haven't been a very good date this evening," Shalnark teased. "You daydream, you don't say thanks, you don't answer my questions. Not very nice of you Y/N."
Shalnark was clearly just teasing you but it annoyed you nonetheless.
"That's rich coming from a guy who tried to mind control me."
This just got a laugh out of both Shalnark and Phinks. Making you sigh before you decided to focus on your book. Hoping to find some useful cheat codes that you missed or deemed unnecessary before.
You found some cheat codes that seemed useful. But with godmode on you figured you were fine. Not to mention that Chrollo couldn't steal your abilities.
Not wanting to be caught off guard however you came up with a plan. It was a simple one too. Godmode would protect you and it would show them that they couldn't hurt let alone kill you. Obviously, you couldn't kill them either. Which left you both at a stalemate.
So your plan was to appeal to Chrollo. Show him that you weren't a threat to them. Hopefully, that would make them let you leave.
After a while of reading you were suddenly interrupted by words filling up your vision.
Level up!
The words were quickly replaced by a bar that rapidly filled up. Showing you that you were level 2 now. It confused you immensely. Especially when suddenly two text boxes replaced the bar. One had the words 'save states' and the other had the words 'pause button'. You were about to reach for one of them when once more Shalnark grabbed your wrists. Making your book fall onto your lap again.
"Hey!" You cried out indignantly. Wondering why he did that.
"You should be more aware of your surrounds, Y/N," Shalnark chuckled. You wondered what he meant by that until you realized he must've been looking at you the entire time. He knows now that your 'weird hand movements' made things happen so he must've grabbed you to stop you from doing something else.
"Are you really going to keep holding my wrists for the rest of the ride?" You asked him, clearly frustrated. Not just by Shalnark holding your wrists but also because now the words were still in your vision. Luckily they were transparent but they were still annoying.
"Yep!" He said, picking up the book you dropped. Clearly happy that you bought some game guides as he was weirdly fond of them.
You could only watch as the words disappeared in front of you. You panicked, wondering if you missed your chance now. When you noticed two new things in your vision you calmed down. Your level indicator showed that you were level 2. And the menu button had an icon that showed you had a notification or message.
Hopefully, that meant you could still make a decision later.
You calmed down again, closing your eyes. Just in time for the car to stop. Causing you to immediately open your eyes.
"We're here."
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magnoliaomega · 2 months
Text
As Nature Intended
After three hundred and fifty years, it is a rare occasion for a certain Druid to be surprised or stirred by something. Or someone. Of course, nature always had a way of making Halsin see things from a different perspective.
**Spoilers for pretty much the entire game and Halsin's romance route**
(Baldur's Gate 3) Halsin/Fem!Reader (Tav) -- (18+) Fluff and Smut, Slow Burn, Romance, Size Difference, Praise Kink
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Chapter 4 ~ Reminisce
A child dreams of the ocean.
A scared little voice reaches from the memory, drowned out by the churning sea and howling wind. A figure turns to hold the child with strange words that seem so familiar, and still so far away; they bring comfort all the same, wrap the child in a warmth so bereft from a memory drowned in a burgeoning storm. Shadows warped and waned, drained the color from the skies as a dinghy trembled on the waves.
A squall erupted. The meager craft emerges from the crest of a swollen wave, at the mercy of the seas and sheets of icy rain.  Faces frayed like fabric as they turned toward her, voices threadbare with the hazy reminiscence of childhood. They moved and enveloped a small body in comforting arms, whispering loving words in a language she no longer could recall. 
The voice had been feminine, maybe. Perhaps A mother or a sibling. Absolutely no one, after all, at the end of a dream.
All them suddenly looked into the heaving sky, face showered in sheets of frigid water just before the great wave surged to swallow over shards of lightning. The sea arose and took the boat and those sheltered within, frigid and merciless before falling into endless black into the darkness.
---
You had been invited into his company, alone.
Your friends were adamant about you not accepting such a suspicious offer and yet you felt you had no choice. The Archduke had been rather clear of his hospitalities in the coronation room: Either you offer yourself and your endeavors to vanquish the Elder Brain with his support, or he would consider you for treason and in league with the Bhaalist upheaval all over the city.
Between the tyrant of Bane, the Bhaalist, and an indomitable Elder Brain, your options were few and your time to decide had dwindled even more so.
You lent your companions a withered look before being led up a staircase, through a series of parapets and freshly embroidered bunting and pennants all in some fashion of gold and lacquer and splendor, suitably glamorous for a newly anointed Arch Duke.
An impressive mezzanine led to a balcony adjacent to the great sea of the Sword Coast, along with a dining table set for two: Upon it sat a cordial of brandywine, bread fashioned into articulate braids with whorls of nuts and fruit, figs stuffed with goat cheese and honey; Scones thick with clotted cream lay alongside rock sugar swirled artfully onto sticks to stir into steaming cups of tea afterward.
A platter heavy with a dressed, roasted fish sat proudly in the center of the buffet and you caught the eye of the Archduke as he regarded you both from where you sat on the opposite side of the table.
A creature to be preyed and fed upon.
“If you had informed me that you were inviting me to a private luncheon,” you sniffed, “I would have declined.”
Undaunted, Enver made a show of spreading his arms to you in welcome. “As I am well aware.” The Archduke moved to pull back your chair for you, utilizing the height of the brazen ‘Goodfellow Gortash’ persona he had been so keen on cultivating over the years. “But with you, I figured a bit of.. engineering would have to be in order. An opportunity. Please, indulge me with your company, nonetheless? I am hoping that you'll come around to accepting my offer.”
Codswallop.
You sat down, arms crossed as he pushed you into the table. Gortash then poured you a glass of wine and you made no move to take it as he stood beside you.
“There are… other ways. To ensure an amicable partnership.” His eyes raked over you with intention and you stiffened. “To maintain a stable rule. You, for one, mean to usurp me.”
You were decidedly coy about this revelation, blinking your eyes dollishly at him. “Why, whatever could you mean, Your Grace?”
Enver drummed his fingers onto the table, your eyes settling onto the glint of his gauntlet, the precious stone nestled within the center. “I do believe that our dear Thorm made a grievous error in not trusting you. To not entreat you to the same cause.”
You ringed a lazy finger around the rim of your wine glass. Still made no move to imbibe of anything proffered. “I’m not sure you believe half of the things you tell yourself,” You huffed, “But in the case that you do: What would you, the avatar of tyranny, want with me?”
“Hope.”
The word sounded trite coming from him, though you fought to keep your features composed all the same. A nervous petitioner made for an emboldened tyrant.
“A lonely little mermaid taken from the breast of Umberlee,” He hummed. “Rising as the hero who stands against the Absolute. It would make for an inspiring little ballad, wouldn’t it?”
You stalled instantly at his words.
All jeering and retort die on your lips with the exception of one word, the only one to be found in your confusion: “Where…?”
“…Are you from, little mermaid?” He coolly finished for you. As if he had no regard for your stupor he stood and held out a hand to you. Hesitantly, you grabbed it, and he swept you up into a stilted little dance, your mind swimming far too turbulently for you to deter the surety of his steps as he led you gracefully about the balcony.
“From far across the sea, my pearl,” he dipped you slightly and was sure to cant his hips into yours, his lips brushing against your temple. “But let’s not ruin the intrigue now, shall we?”
The metal of his gauntlet pressed into the small of your back. “I want to propose.”
“Propose?” You laughed, voice brittle. “What, so you can bait me with this information?”
He pressed you closer, his voice thick with allure. “No, you little coquette. A most divine of oaths; I want to propose to you.”
He reached then to grab your hand, brushing his lips over your knuckles. He may as well have kissed you outright, so taken aback as you were. A ringing began in your ears, the noise and bustle of the city and distant waves dwindling down into a faint fervor as his words and their implication sounded over and over in your mind.
A proposal. Of marriage.
“The life of an Archduchess could be quite fulfilling, I imagine. Everyone loves a wedding. It would be cause for even more celebration after being brought from the brink of ruin. Commerce into the streets. Invigorate the spirits of the people.”
He laughed aloud at the look of disbelief on your face, your body still stiffened against him in shock.
“And since the wayward son of our very own Ulder Ravenguard has proven himself more than incapable of having the people’s best interest at heart,” He smirked as he continued, “An heir would be the perfect crescendo of the whole affair to stir the people’s hearts. Allied under a new cause, a victory against the Absolute, and then we give them a symbol for the future. The Champions of Baldur’s Gate.”
An heir. He meant to make you swollen with his child.
Gortash regarded your look of horror with an impish kiss to your cheek, scooting you back into your chair before pushing you back into the table. He sat down, pouring wine for himself before raising it to you as if to toast. “Wedded bliss. Happily ever after. No more tadpole. Luxury and pleasures beyond your imagining. I could make you quite happy.”
Fury, then naked disgust stormed over your face.
Your glare set him ablaze, you bared your teeth like a threatened animal. Your hands clenched into fists onto the table and for a moment he placed his gauntlet onto the table as if you were meant to hurl something at him.
Then, nothing.
Your face alit into a smile, serene and comely. Benevolent, even. If ever even he could appreciate the light of Lathander, it was solely in that moment.
You took in a deep breath, your temper cooled at the sight of the ocean stretching before you in the distance. Somehow, you had the lurking suspicion that he had already known that the vista would have that exact effect on you.
“Lord Enver Gortash. If I didn’t know any better I would say you were coming onto me.”
A bland ‘hmm’, is his only reply, no conviction behind the sound.
He escorted you back to the tower, to the staircase leading back to the only family you have ever known without having touched a single morsel of food.
That night, a Paladin dreams of a home.
---
Your knuckles had been blanched white from the moment you had taken off your gloves in camp.
You were eerily calm after meeting with Gortash, your eyes downcast and anything but forthcoming with what had happened from the heights of the fortress. The Archduke’s influence was palpable in all corners of the city and that night you vetoed camping anywhere near Wyrm’s Rock, still looking about yourself warily as the party settled deep into the wood.
You only offered one explanation around the campfire for supper that evening: “He knew things. About me.”
You sequestered yourself away in your tent in the forest for days afterward.
Your merry little camp fell to silence as each of your companions were quickly bound to their own woes, the looming threat of the Elder Brain’s dominion trembling the city ever more frequently.
The Druid stumbled upon you one night, shuffling about as a bear. Your skin was wan, face drawn as you drowned in moonlight. You did not make any move to acknowledge him as he shifted back into a man, settling himself beside you. He knew that you were considering your options regarding the Archduke, how a single decision would change the fate of an entire realm. You bore much, but offered little in respite for yourself. He saw it so clearly in the moons of shadow beneath your eyes.
You rubbed at your eyes as if sensing his gaze upon you. Then, without further preamble: “I’ve been lying to you.”
Halsin felt your name fall softly from your lips. Worry colored over his tone but he stilled to listen to you. And you proceeded to tell him a story about a little girl.
Your memories were scant, but enough to paint an outline of a childhood fraught with loss. Indeed, you did dream of the ocean as he had mused before, though not to the same effect: a small boat, a sudden storm, the dinghy capsized at the mercy of the waves. Two people had been on the boat with you, forever lost when you had gone under. 
 You were an urchin, for a time; Owned nothing except for a small bracelet with an untold story and an unfulfilled promise.
He nodded, suddenly understanding as you continued.
The sisters of the Temple of Umberlee found you by the seaside one day and took you in. Called you a testament of the vengeful goddess’ mercies, their half-drowned destined. Your destiny.
You sighed, running a hand over your face, “And, somehow, Gortash knew all of this about me.”
“Back then, it all seemed so.. so grand.” You fingered a piece of grass shooting up from the earth. “I entered the temple as a little girl with bare feet, and left in a procession with banners and gleaming armor. Umberlee may not be the kindest of patrons, but she hasn’t seen fit to abandon me, either.”
“I felt so naked before the Archduke. How he had known something so intimate about me felt…” You ringed your arms around your legs again, nails digging into your knees. “It was not his secret to know. I wanted to tell you. And now, I feel as if I have betrayed you.”  
Then, something more that made the Druid’s breath freeze entirely within his lungs, your voice soft: “He proposed marriage to me, Halsin. To strengthen the alliance against the Elder Brain, bolster the city’s confidence in his rule.”
His mind filled with unrelenting images of Gortash’s hands on you, a gauntlet digging fingers into your arm; you’d be fashioned into a pretty trinket for him to preen and polish his image, then locked away into your gilded cage when you weren’t needed.
“And-” Your voice was tight. “He wants a… successor, if we do.”
In that moment, Halsin had almost completely lost himself. He fought for composure, rage sundering all thought as his palm dug into the flesh of his thigh. He had reacted with such vehemence that you were broken from your reverie and reaching to take his hand. You had turned to regard him in quiet fear, saying no more of the encounter. The muscles in his arms went livid with tension as he struggled to bite back every curse he knew at your would-be suitor.
The tyrant would speak to you as if you were a decoration. If he had ever dared to touch you-
A moment passed, then another as he regained his faculties. Barely able to tamp down his feelings, he felt free to speak sanely at last.
The Druid breathed through his nose, feeling his tempers cool with the action. “Think of all the adventures you would leave unwritten. All of the people you have yet to meet, the friends you have met; The Archduke would be wary of anyone by your side.” Halsin's eyes traced over the curve of your eyebrows, the swell of your lips as if committing them to memory. “We’d never see you again.”
At this, you smiled, sighing gently through your nose. “Are we all not a collection of all the friends we’ve made since we started this adventure? Like threads in a tapestry, pearls on a string. If you think about it that way, I’ve a whole wreath of antler beads; I'm fortunate.” You sighed through your nose, propping your arms behind yourself so you could look back up at the sky. “But does that mean I have anything of myself that is truly mine?”
Worry furrowed over his brows. “He’d never let you out of his sight,” Halsin’s fingers moved to cover your own. "He has brought you into his confidence out of necessity."
“I.. I don’t know, Halsin. He’s a bastard, but at least he’s not letting a cult of murderous zealots run riot through the city." He watched with rapt attention as you licked your lips. "If we could only just get Orin’s netherstone-“
“You’re not truly considering this, are you?”
You kept your face pointed up toward the stars, your voice light. “Perhaps this is fate finally smiling on us. Mayhap this is our chance to make a real, actual change. It could be our only real chance at defeating the Absolute.” Your gaze was unreadable as it returned onto Halsin. “We could help all of the refugees, all of those lost children. Restore Reithwin, give you want you’ve been looking for all of this time.”
His gaze was dark, voice broken with his heartbreak. “And what could I ever possibly ask of you to sacrifice so much, little doe?”
You smiled as if it was the most obvious thing in the world- “Somewhere to be happy.”
“Oh, heart.” He heard the sharp intake of breath you took at the name. “We could do it all on our own. This dream. It could be real. We could make it ours. There is so much that we could do to help those who need it most within the city.”
You looked at him as if he had slapped you. “Halsin.”
He continued, voice thick with emotion. “We’ll do it all by ourselves like we have this entire time. Together. Chosen and Illithids and Brains be damned.”
You struck your palm against the dirt and he bit off his tirade as if struck: “I. DON’T. KNOW.”
You cradled your hands into your chest as you turned away. “I don’t know what else to do.”
The Druid was stunned into silence. For the first time since he had met you, you looked-
You had been exhausted in the Shadowlands, yes, beaten and shaken and still you rose triumphant. The way you acted now spoke of a loss of hope. Defeat.  
A silence crept over you, punctuated only by the sound of insects, the nocturnal creatures that began to wake and traverse the night around you.
It began as a bubble. Then, a roil. Then, completely unashamed, you began laughing. Loud and sweet and full. He joined in, realizing that he hadn’t heard you do so in an age.
Months of constant stress, of fear and uncertainty rushed forth as if a dam had broken. You both laughed until tears were streaming down your faces, holding your stomachs, doubling over until it finally died down.
Your tears did not.
He pulled you into his arms and you let him, your body trembling with sobs. He continued to attempt to entreat you to your interests, your destiny, for no other sake than your own. “You would never have your own life ever again.”
“Maybe I just want to wake up and not worry about things trying to take over my body. Or trying to kill me." Your hand pressed into Halsin's chest, over the steady beat of his heart. "Or feeling like I'm constantly fighting against fate.”
Frustration struck through him like a lance at your reply. “You’d-“ He fumbled for one last argument to make you reconsider the grave existence you were steadily clawing yourself towards in your despair. “You’d be delirious with boredom come the first month.”
You couldn’t even rise to take the bait of the poorly lain jest. “Maybe for once in my fucking life I want to be bored.”
He was losing you.
Anguish clung to you like a mantle as you folded back into yourself. “Who knows. Once peace has returned to the realm and the Absolute defeated.. perhaps I.. could come to love him.”
“Gortash could never love anyone that was not himself.” Your words froze the breath in his throat. He lowered his voice. “Don’t you deserve true love, and to be loved in return?”
He would never see you again. 
That seemed to give you pause. “Halsin… I…”
You turned to him, eyes shining. Your hands had had slid upward to cradle his face from where you from where he had hugged you into his chest. He felt his heart stop as your lips parted once more as you looked directly into his eyes.
“…I may as well be in love with the moon.”
Before he could discern the meaning of such a thing your eyes became bright with tears once more and you blinked them away as you gave a small, sad smile for his comfort. “What is my one, singular life compared to that of an entire realm?”
The Druid crushed you into himself, heart burning within his chest at your words. How could you treasure yourself so little? A person who had traversed endless dark to find him, time and time again. Who brought the world together everywhere she went. A miracle borne to the earth.
The thought of you alone, bereft of hope where you had kept him alive with so much of yours, tore through him.
And, finally, he knew and understood. There was something that had gradually come to belong to you without his even realizing it. Perhaps too late.
He breathed your name, taking your face into his hands before pulling you into an agonized kiss, unsure of how to comfort your aggrieved heart. Or his own.
The taste of tears lingered cold on his lips.
“Stay,” you whispered, kissing his fingers, your lips creeping upward to his palm, “Just for a little while.” A testament to endless nights alone, wondering and all too aware of the creature that crept behind your skull, biding its time.
You begged of them both, “Just a little bit more time.”
---
A few of your companions together were milling about camp, bearing expectant grins and raising their brows as you both returned to your tents well after sunrise, quickly dissipating as soon as they saw the drawn, somber expressions on your faces. It was certainly not the look of two sated lovers who had spent the evening entangled in bliss.
After that, you were noticeably more difficult to locate at camp. You were an empty seat at campfires, a set of footprints in the dirt before dawn every morning. An empty tent.
Another night, another empty plate beside the campfire. The Druid wandered out into the forest, farther still, mind unsettled and found you even further than he had before. You didn’t turn around but sighed as he approached. 
“I can’t sleep,” you chuckled, “But, what else is new?”
You gave a small start when an elk bull called in the distance. Halsin’s heart lent itself to empathy at the sound, a kinship. Silvanus was not without his mercies after all.
He came closer, testing the distance as if you were going to bound away from him at any moment. “When I find myself with an uneased heart and an unsettled mind, I find that meditation has been helpful in subsiding both.”
You snorted. He could feel the dour expression as it settled over you, something like your former self when you had first met. “I am very poor at meditating.”
True, he knew you were prone to fidget when still for too long.
The elk called again. Stark and lonesome in the wood as it echoed through the boughs silvered with moonlight. His heart stirred once more, encouraged.
Surely there was something in the air, something far more palpable and real than a dream could lead him to believe. There was nothing to be afraid of here, with him. Only the lingering sense that being here with you seemed right and natural.
He pressed again, coming closer. “Perhaps I could help.” He felt his heart begin to stir, quickening, a buck hopeful in turn.
Finally, you turned toward him. “I could... try.” You took a doe’s step toward him, careful. “I could try if you showed me.
Wordlessly, he sat on the ground and crossed his legs, beckoning you forward.
Halsin lay his hands, palms up, onto his knees. You moved to settle yourself into his lap, relaxing into the warm muscle of his chest, hands placed into his. Soon, you were both stilled together, matched for each breath as his chest rose and fell.
“Feel your eyes become heavy,” He whispered over you. “All the tension is leaving your shoulders.”
He felt them abruptly sag at the command; your back, your body heat melted against him. He was suddenly aware of your skin, mentally tracing the outline of your form beneath your nightclothes where it was pressed against him.
“You are light,” He continued, listening to you sigh, “Free the tension from your arms. Your hands. Your feet.”
When you murmured gently, your fingers lacing within his, he reached his mind out to yours. Gently, like stepping into tepid water, so unlike the force and jarring pull of what you had described using the tadpole was like.
And you dream together.
Sprawled across the astral plane, heaven and earth and as one. The sky unto dawn, the earth as it delved from mountain peaks into the abyssal sea.
You were clutching at his hands as if you could float away from him and he rumbled, warm and low in his chest as he released one of your hands to pull you in closer and anchored you into the heat of his body.
You soared over tundras and white expanse of the Dalelands, witnessed the glorious sunrise over Athkatla and the grace of sunset as it dipped into the horizons of Waterdeep.
To the stars, all of their celestial raiment, and beyond.
And back.
You audibly gasped, pulled in deep breaths as you whirled around to face him. “That was amazing.” You were flushed, lips parted in awe. It was the most emotion he had seen from you in days “Is that what it feels like to be a Druid? An Elf?”
“No,” He chuckled at the look of wonder on your face, at that special, radiant flicker of the old you. “Just a mere glimpse of what I feel when I am with you.”
You sadden once more. “I wish that I could show you such things.”
His hands tighten on yours.
“But you have. You have shown me light in the most fervent darkness. Hope where there was naught but despair. And I-“ Halsin moved to hold you tighter, pulling you into his lap, lips whispering over yours like a prayer.
“I desperately desire to show you how much you mean to me.”
You looked at him as if you had never considered this before, eyes wide. He leaned down and you closed the distance, a promise held between your lips.
“Let me… take care of you.”
Halsin took his time, taking your hand to press a kiss into your palm, trailing up your arm. He nipped at your collarbone and moved to bury his nose into your hair, mapping every detail of your body as he could with hands calloused with time.
He halted at the collar of your nightgown, fingers edging at the fabric before you placed your hand over his before delving beneath the fabric. It was all the permission he needed.
The Druid undressed you with the careful attention of a beloved; the nuance and excitement of a lover.
He gently tugged the sleeve of your robe down over your shoulder, following the trailing fabric with his lips. Halsin then turned you around and lay you down into the grass, pressed his ear against the steadily rising heartbeat within your chest, murmuring into your skin as a mouth enveloped over a bared breast.
A torrent ran through him, furled through him in whorls and waves. You reached into his clothing, under the hem of his tunic and you fell into one another; The crisp bite of Autumn, the fervent blush of Spring. You both explored, gentle and curious, the warmth of Summer rain of each touch as you learned to temper yourselves on one another’s flesh as nature took hold.
He journeyed lower, gently parting and lifting your garments from you before nuzzling against the skin of your belly, placing a kiss onto your hip. His fingers followed suit, gripping onto warm flesh and he looked up to roam his heavy-lidded gaze over you.
Delirious with need, your hands suddenly kneaded over the thick outline of his cock beneath his robe and he growled lowly in his throat. He sheltered his body over yours, two hands placed on either side of your head.
 “The moon rises and falls as it always has, housed in the heavens.” Halsin kissed your forehead. “It has stood vigil for an eon and yet it has given no thought to how the world would be lost to the darkness without its presence.” He kissed over one eyelid, then the other.
“You freed me from the dark. Redeemed me from a world cursed to shadow.” He moved to whisper over your lips, then pressed a kiss to them, whisper-light. “You’ve fallen, and risen. Again and again. And still you have guided me with your light.”
Your eyes shone with tears, and he chuckled above you.
“Tell me: Is it so impossible to love the moon? if I did not dare to do so, I fear I may lose sight of you over the horizon without you knowing of my true feelings.”  
You wordlessly lifted shaking hands to cradle his face within your palms. You smiled- a true, genuine thing -and he felt you shift the world beneath him, once again.
“Then love me, Halsin. Always.” You averted your gaze then looked back up at him, suddenly shy. “I feel I’ve been in love with you from the moment you first spoke to me.”
There was a gentle understanding between you two, then: To need and be needed. To know that he, too, was desired. You began to pull at his robes, gently, afraid as if this frail moment, too, were a dream. Something passionate and desperate between you, clinging together like a lifeline, shared breath and heat. The barest of touches to your nipple, how your hands gathered his face to pull him into a searing kiss assured him that this, that you, were real. You were truly here, with him, as he spread you vulnerable and beautiful before him.
Your hands were plucked from where they were clutching desperately at his body as he sat back and divested himself of his clothing, your eyes running greedily over his flesh as soon as he was bare before you. Your wrists were then held in a steady palm as he made his way down your body, parting your clothing with as much patience as he could summon.
He nosed against your core from where they were shielded beneath the sheer fabric of your smallclothes and he heard you inhale a breath, nipping over the damp spot beneath them as you bucked your hips. He felt his cock throb as you began whimpering to him of your need, voice heated and passionate with impatience.
He hummed a soft chuckle against as you squirmed your hips, causing him to reach up as he peeled your panties from you, letting go of your wrists to pull the fabric down your legs to forget them onto the forest floor. You cried out as he cradled your knees onto his shoulders, then shamelessly traced your sex with his lips and tongue.
He had thought about you, like this, many times since that night at the Last Light Inn. Sometimes in the dead of night, delirious with need, fisting his cock until his teeth clenched and spend spilled over his knuckles. He had told himself that if you had ever been gracious enough to accept him- Silvanus willing -it would be a far more tender endeavor, bordering on genteel; the Druid would savor you, learning your body with as much time as you needed.
Instead-
Your hands carded and pulled restlessly at his hair as he parted you with his tongue, his fingers quickly following suit. Halsin felt his skin heat as your thighs brushed against his face, your cries becoming frantic, begging him for more. Need washed over him as he nipped at your blushing sex, running a tongue over your bud until your body was milking at his fingers. You screamed from your release, pawing desperately at the Druid as he crawled back over your body to reward you with a kiss. The taste of you mingled between his lips, a hand moving down your bodies to grip at and fist his cock, lining himself up with you. 
The first push into your body is rapturous; Halsin, forever meticulous in his worship of you, your body his parish, groaned as he descended into your perfect heat and fought to control his urges. Livid tension ran the length of his arms and he slowed his breath, kissing over your eyelids where you lay panting beneath him.
He began to ease himself into you. 
He groaned, gripping at your hip as you made small animal noises as each delicious inch of him gave way into your heat. The Druid made for a gorgeously tight fit within you, both of you trembling with effort as he held you close and pressed into you as carefully as possible. He finally canted his hips against you as the last few inches of his cock descended into your pliant body, taking him to the root. Your head tossed back as you gasped and moved your hand to where his cock had been fed into you. It felt so natural, so right. 
Seeing you sheathed onto his cock fed into the urges within him; the surge of wild magic that began to creep along his spine was not new to him, but overtook him with its sudden intensity. He felt the feral sensation creep into his skull, naked lust smoldering behind his eyes until they turned into a crisp gold.
Powerful and slow, each thrust seated him to the hilt as your bodies swayed together on the forest floor. You trembled with each stroke, rewarding him with your shuddering sighs as your body received him eagerly. Halsin was enraptured as he whispered his praise of you, how breathtaking you looked spread open for him, how you took him so well.
Each stroke was slow, powerful: Each time he met you was punctuated by a new slip of his name from your lips while he mouthed heated kisses over the pulse of your throat.
“Hold onto me, my heart.”
You obediently gripped his biceps and he set a desperate pace, gritting his teeth until he tasted iron. The sight of you squirming pleasurably beneath him set his soul ablaze, mouth open as your cries began to reach a crescendo as your body bounced with each roll of his hips.
Deeper now, he growled as his strokes delved further, shifting your legs upward until he hit a spot within you that had you crying out mercilessly into the night. Your arms moved to encircle around his neck as his hands gripped the ground on either side of your head, raking fingers into the earth.
Halsin swore an oath to his god upon that moment; That he would forever strive to be worthy of you, a miracle given an earthly form.
He felt as you began to whimper as your body squeezed and fluttered around him. He increased his pace, hearing you moan in frustration as he snaked an arm beneath your back to pull you into each thrust; Torture, sweet and agonizing as he kept you balanced on the precipice. Your fingers were digging into Halsin’s back as each thrust became erratic, hips snapping without grace or mercy as you both chased your end.
The edges of his vision began to haze over. Nothing in the entirety of the world would be as perfect as feeling you climax while impaled on his cock, giving him your pleasure at your most vulnerable.
Like lightning crackling over his spine, he swore breathlessly against you as your body gripped him asyour back arched, breasts pushed against him as a dry sob wrenched itself from your throat as you came. You were mewling nonsense as you spasmed, body completely at his mercy as he gripped beneath your knees to push your legs against your chest until, finally: Halsin’s back straightened above you as he bellowed into the night as if in triumph, mouth opened heavenward, filling your frantic body with his heat. He sheltered your body with his once more, the Druid kissing at your face, your lips, licking your tears lazily as you both came down from the heavens.
His muscles slackened, gaze focusing back onto you to where you were looking up at him in awe, flushed. Halsin gently unfolded you, keeping his cock seated firmly within you as he rolled your both onto your sides. You gasped as you both suddenly felt your combined essences run from your union, to the dampness of your thighs, and you kissed his chin as he pulled you in tighter against him.
You tensed. “Wait, the others. What if Gortash-“
“Sleep. They will be fine,” he shushed you, gently. “Sleep, little doe. You are the safest creature in all the realms with me.”
And so, you were.
---
Astarion looked up from his book, making a face at the commotion in the forest before turning back to the passage he had been reading before the untimely interruption.
“Gods. Finally.”
(Previous)
+++Author's Note!+++
I have been plugging away at this story and ta-daa: It now means I have to add another chapter to get all the thoughts out. Also, I began this before patch 5 when the epilogues were added so keep that in mind when finishing the rest of this!
As always, thank you for all of the kind comments, asks, and reblogs! I try to answer every one and it makes me feel so good that you are enjoying this.
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k-evans-reads · 1 year
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In Living Color
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Chapter 7
Summary: When Natalie Marton, lead character designer for Buzz Lightyear, meets the voice of Buzz, Chris Evans, the sparks are undeniable. But when their work pushes them away from each other, both physically and emotionally, will the sheer differences between their worlds be enough to force them apart?
Pairing: Chris Evans x Pixar Animator OFC Natalie Marton
Word Count: 4,010
By: @k-evans-writes and @ourfinest-hour
We do NOT give permission for our works to be reuploaded, translated, or reposted on any other site. Our work is our own.
Warnings: None.
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Previous | Main Masterlist | In Living Color Masterlist
June 2021
Nat glanced out the window of her San Fernando apartment from where she sat on the couch, seeing the bright sunshine streaming in through the windows and able to hear the chirping birds outside, but it didn’t seem to lift her low spirits. It had been three weeks since Chris had gone to Europe but somehow it seemed so much longer. Having everything change and finally discussing the elephant in the room the morning of his departure was crappy timing, but Chris leaving had been even harder than she’d imagined it’d be. It’d given her the space in her mind to fill with doubts and worries, scared he’d come back only to cut things off with her or simply stay in Boston for months on end, unwilling to even see her. But a simple look around her apartment quelled her fears, seeing the two bouquets of flowers he’d sent her this week, remembering the others that had been delivered to her office as well, and his quiet, low voice murmuring “I’m crazy about you, Nat,” echoed in her mind. All it took was that and the memory of their never-ending text thread, even despite the nine hour time difference between them, to feel confidence flood her. 
But it still felt so far away until she’d get to see him again, not even halfway through their time apart. It felt so much easier during the week when she was able to focus on work, her brain being occupied with her tasks, but the weekends were hard. So often in the spring, they’d hung out together, either at Chris’ home or Nat’s apartment, on the weekends, that the sudden free time was incredibly lonely. Which is what resulted in her still laying in bed at nearly noon on a sunny, warm Saturday. As if on cue, her phone pinged and she instantly grabbed it, smiling widely when she saw Chris a text from Chris. 
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Nat liked his message before tossing her phone back down on the bed, sulking back into her emotional funk. She mindlessly clicked through the channels on her television, trying to find something to watch, settling on an episode of Friends, then once it ended, she switched over to her streaming service to turn on her comfort movie. But before she could even click play, her doorbell rang, making Nat’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She hadn’t been expecting anyone but decided to climb out of bed, throwing on a sweatshirt before opening the door and finding a white bag sitting in front of her door. 
Nat looked down the hallway for the sign of anyone but found it empty, only making her more curious than before. She quickly scooped up the bag and closed the door with her foot, not even being able to wait until she could put it on the table to pop the plastic container open and find some fresh tacos, a smile on her face instantly but it wasn’t from the food. It was because she knew exactly who it was from. 
Her phone buzzed with a text from Chris, but she ignored the message – likely telling her he was back in his room – to instead hit the “call” button, holding the phone up to her ear and she dug further into the bag and found containers of guacamole and queso for her, both of which she loved.
Chris answered the call but Nat cut off his greeting, asking, “You sent me lunch, didn’t you?” 
She listened as he chuckled to himself, something creaking in the background as he sat down. “Well I couldn’t let you go hungry, now could I?” He replied, his voice amused as she munched on a few tortilla chips and grabbed a plate from the cabinet. 
“I don’t think I would have starved,” she muttered, rolling her eyes to herself. “In fact with the way I’ve been emotional eating lately, I’m sure my jeans would appreciate me missing a meal so my ass could fit better in them.” 
He made a noise of disagreement at her words, but his voice was light as he shot back, “I’ve seen the way your ass fits in jeans and it’s pretty fuckin’ perfect if you ask me,” 
“At this rate, by the time you come home my ass isn’t going to be fitting into any of my jeans,” she muttered again, sitting down at her island and putting the call on speaker phone as she reached for a taco. 
But Chris’ low chuckle was nothing if not mischievous, and his words matched as told her, “That’s fine with me, because I prefer you without them anyway.” 
“You’re trouble,” she murmured, pausing to take a bite from her taco. She listened to him on the other end as he moved around a little, wishing for nothing more than to be next to him right now. “And I really miss you.” 
“I miss you too, Nattie. I miss you a helluva lot.”  
Those words made her heart clench because she knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was telling her the truth. She could hear the vulnerability in his voice and having him be so honest and upfront with his emotions was something so refreshing and unlike what she’s experienced with any other man before. He told her about his day, about what he and Scott got up to in France after he’d slept in, exhausted from the long few weeks from home and his own bed. But while she tried to listen to him, she couldn’t help but relish in how much it felt like he was there, right next to her, drinking a beer and eating a taco, nudging her with his elbow every time he told a joke, smirking at her every time she rolled her eyes at him. She missed him, so so much, enough that it nearly hurt.  
She had finished the food and put away the leftover queso and was now heading back to lay in bed as he was laughing about a mix-up with their Uber that night. She couldn’t help but remember how miserable she’d been, not even an hour ago, having been laying in this bed, stewing in her thoughts and missing him. And while she still missed him, almost more than she had before, if that was possible, she was… happy. She was content, and she felt as though he felt the same about her, and it felt good. It was sad and lonely right now, but it felt good. “God, I just love talking to you, Nattie,” he murmured, his low voice rumbling right as she slipped underneath her duvet. “I just… enjoy you.” 
And in that moment, those words felt like she’d been hit with a ton of bricks. Her stomach clenched in knots and instantly tears sprang to her eyes, those words bringing out so many emotions that had been buried deep inside her so long. She had always been the black sheep of her family, and although none of them had ever made her feel anything but loved, she knew she was different. She wasn’t strong and steady like her dad. She wasn’t level-headed and wise like her eldest sister, Heather. She wasn’t intelligent and driven like Alex. She was Natalie… She was emotional, sensitive and had a big personality, and was everything that her family wasn’t. 
She knew that she was a lot to handle. Nat knew she wasn’t easy from her passionate and intense emotions and had felt for so long that those were flaws in her, thinking back to Shane’s words that often were dismissive and insisted only on talking to her when she had “calmed down” and “stopped being dramatic.” She had always felt as if she was lucky Shane put up with her personality, working so hard to tone it down to become more rational, less of her artist brain taking over. But somehow Chris hadn’t made her feel that way. He made her feel that he actually liked those things about her, rather than simply tolerating her and it was something she truly never even entertained being able to have in her life. 
But here he was, so effortlessly expressing how much he simply enjoyed… her. And there was nothing that touched her heart more than that. But it wasn’t just the fact he was saying that, it was the fact that his actions had shown her just how much he valued her. It wasn't because of the flowers or the random gifts like today, it was because of how much time he always carved out of his day for her, even if it meant waking up early after a long night of shoots to catch her before she went to bed. 
Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper when she admitted to him, “I miss you so much.” 
“I miss you too, Nattie,” he replied, a deep longing in his voice. “What are you going to do this afternoon?” 
She shrugged, picking up her remote and turning her television on again, the screen flipping onto the info page for a movie. “I was just going to lay in bed and watch Casablanca,” she told him, her thumb hovering over the play button. 
But Chris interrupted her as he rushed to tell her, “Don’t start it yet, let me get it up first,” his voice slightly muffled as he moved around in his own bed. 
She couldn’t help but smile from where her head laid on the pillow, phone on her chest while she waited to hit play until he said he was ready. The two stayed on the phone the entire duration of the film, sharing their thoughts in key points, crying at all the same moments, and sharing the experience together, simply enjoying getting to spend time with one another despite being on different continents. 
Nat had been so caught up in talking about nothing with him that she hadn’t even realized the time, shouting out an expletive when she saw the time and quickly apologized to him, saying she had to go and she’d be back in an hour. 
The phone call ended hurriedly as Nat pulled on a pair of bike shorts and a t-shirt, running out the door after she jammed her feet into a pair of Birkenstocks. The drive to the Burbank Airport thankfully flew by, and soon she found her sister in the arrivals pick-up, waiting near the curb with her bag. 
Nat guided her Izusu Trooper to the curb, parking it in front of Heather and jumping out to greet her. She wrapped her oldest sister in a hug, squeezing her as she said, “Heather! I’m so glad you’re here!” 
“Me too,” Heather replied, quiet as she hugged Nat back, before they moved to load her things in the trunk. “Although I’d be a lot happier if I was here just to see you rather than go to this boring conference all week.” 
“Well I’m going to break you out of it early a couple evenings and we’re going to Disneyland,” Nat smirked as she closed the hatch, heading back to the driver’s side as Heather went to the passenger.
As they sat in their seats, Heather looked at her with a relieved grin as she said, “Thank goodness.” 
They were quiet as Nat drove them back onto the freeway and Heather sent her husband, Ryan, a text that she’d found Nat. “Are you still planning on coming home for Ella’s birthday?” Heather asked, eyes bouncing between the wide freeway and Nat.  
Nat scoffed, knowing she’d had the date circled on her calendar for weeks. “Are you kidding? Like I’d miss a unicorn themed birthday party?” She asked Heather, almost incredulously. It was the one thing she’d been looking forward to since Chris left, excited for the chance to go home for a weekend. She’d be in the home stretch after that, with just over a month until Chris wrapped filming and came home. 
“The girls are so happy you’re coming,” Heather interrupted her thoughts, causing Nat’s attention to shift to her two nieces, who she adored and missed so much. “And so are the rest of us. We all got so used to having you around last year that it just hasn’t felt right now having you home since Christmas.” 
“It’ll be so good to come home, it’s been lonely here lately,” Nat admitted quietly as she shifted in her seat. 
“The girls have been missing you like crazy,” Heather added, pausing as her phone buzzed. “Especially Lily. We’ve been trying to get her a little more out of her shell by putting her in some activities.” 
Nat frowned, listening to her words. She’d always known – everyone in their family had – that Lily was the tough nut, the shy one who didn’t like new situations or new people as much, but she’d assumed that no news had been good news. “How’s that been going?” She asked Heather, glancing over at her as she changed lanes. 
“We tried soccer and she cried the whole way to practice. Then we tried gymnastics and that only lasted two sessions,” Heather recalled, but then paused and smiled suspiciously at Nat. “But now we put her in an art class and she’s loving that. She came home the other day and said she’s learning how to be an artist like Auntie Nattie.” 
Nat’s shoulders slouched and tears burned her eyes, threatening to spill as she listened to her sister. “Heather, don’t make me cry while I’m driving!” She finally replied, smacking Heather lightly with her right hand as she stared at the road. 
Heather smiled, shoving Nat back playfully before she twisted in her seat to face her. “I was talking to Ryan the other day and I think we’re going to bring the girls down in September and do Disneyland,” she informed her, then shrugged and added, “I’m going to see if Alex and Zach want to bring Carson and you know dad will come.” 
Nat nodded, already making plans in her head as she told her, “Just tell me when and I’ll take the week off.” 
“Ryan’s just waiting to hear back from his boss so I’ll let you know,” Heather promised. “I just want us to do more things with all of us together.” 
Nat exited the freeway, stopping at the light right outside of her apartment complex before she turned into the parking lot. “I’d really love that,” she whispered.
Heather watched Nat carefully as they grabbed their things, but nothing was said until they were inside Nat’s apartment. “...Dad told me what you said when he was down here with you… about being lonely,” Heather began as she rolled her suitcase into Nat’s room, turning to meet Nat’s eyes concernedly. “He’s worried about you, Nat.” 
But Nat shrugged, biting her lower lip as she insisted, “I’m okay.” 
“Are you really? Because dad wasn’t very convinced.” 
“No, I am,” she repeated, then shrugged as she remembered the way she’d felt only an hour ago while she was on the phone with Chris. “It’s just been getting back in the groove of things after being home so long in the pandemic and it’s been an adjustment. But I’m happy, Heather, I promise.” 
Heather gave her a look that showed her confidence in Nat’s answer, but soon all was forgotten as they settled on the couch to watch The Parent Trap. Nat welcomed the distraction from the questioning from Heather, but within an hour of her arrival, Heather turned her head, leaning an arm against the couch and asked, “Hey, what ever happened with that guy? Chris, right?” 
Nat sighed, knowing she had a lot to say but just wanted to enjoy the night with her sister. “I’m going to give you the whole story but it’s a long one so I’ll tell you over breakfast tomorrow,” she told her, shaking her head. 
Heather raised an eyebrow, an amused look on her face as she mentioned, “Sounds like it’s going to be a good one.” 
“There’s a lot to tell,” Nat began, but then shook her head again as she smiled a little. “But I need you fully awake to hear it all.” 
As they turned their attention back to the movie, within minutes Nat’s phone vibrated incessantly against its place on the coffee table, the screen telling her Chris was calling. She accepted the FaceTime call, fully intending to quickly tell him that she’d call him back tomorrow, but seeing his tired face on the other end of the line, so handsome despite that mustache above his upper lip caused her to linger. 
She couldn’t help but smile, seeing him halfway propped up in bed, one impossibly thick muscular arm behind his head and the other holding up his phone, resting it on his stomach and letting Nat see his bare tattooed chest that she could vividly remember running her hands across. She tipped her screen slightly away from Heather, not intending to hide Chris from her but wanting to have the chance to tell her what had happened and who he was before this, but she didn’t get a chance to say anything first. 
“Hey I know you’re busy but I’m just headed to bed and wanted to call you real quick,” he told her quickly, his eyes glancing off screen as he messed with his pillow for a moment. “I just miss you Nattie, and I wanted to hear your voice.” 
Heather sat up across the couch from her, her eyes wide as she whispered, “Wait, is this him?”  
Nat turned the phone so that Heather couldn’t see him, her eyes bouncing between Heather’s amused, excited look and Chris’ tired eyes on her phone. “Um yeah, but I’ll just be a second,” she told him, her voice sounding weird even to herself. 
Heather all but whined at those words, her voice hushed as she told Nat, “No, no! I want to see him.” 
Chris’ brows furrowed as Heather’s voice carried over the line, his voice quiet as he asked, “You got company, Nattie?” 
“He calls you Nattie? Stop, that’s so cute,” Heather gasped, her voice a little louder as she watched Nat. “I want to see him.” 
“Sorry, am I interrupting?” 
Nat rolled her eyes, sending a glare Heather’s way before she looked back at Chris, informing him, “It’s just my oldest sister.” 
“Heather’s there?” Chris asked, sitting up as he reached for something and then pulled a shirt over his head, jamming his arms through the sleeves quickly. 
Heather had a smirk on her face as she listened to the conversation, making Nat kick her leg lightly. She ignored Heather’s laughter as she told Chris, who was turning on the bedside lamp, “Yeah she’s here for a conference this week.” 
“Turn your phone, I want to see,” Heather practically ordered. Nat waited until Chris nodded then turned the phone as she scooted down the couch. She held it in front of Heather’s face, watching the phone as Chris waved a little awkwardly. “You’re shitting me right now.” 
She smirked a little as Chris laughed loudly and Heather’s jaw dropped, rushing to defend herself and tell her sister, “I was going to tell you tomorrow.” 
“You’ve just been casually keeping it a secret that you’re dating Chris EVANS?” 
“I said I was going to tell you tomorrow!” She repeated, her voice rising as she took her phone back with a frown, but it didn’t stay long as Chris laughed again at their mini-argument.
Chris smiled at her, but then cut in and said, “It's nice to meet you, Heather. I’ve heard so much about you and your family from Nattie.” 
“I wish I could say the same about you, but don’t worry, I’m going to get some details out of her before the night is over,” Heather laughed as she shook her head to herself. 
“I don’t mean to interrupt, I just wanted to call and say goodnight,” Chris sighed, laughing a little as Nat all but glared at Heather. “Can I call ya’ tomorrow, Nattie? I have a night shoot so I’ll be around most of the day.” 
She turned her attention back to Chris, nodding and telling him, “I’ll call you in the morning.” 
“Nice to see you Heather,” Chris called, waving a little as Heather did as well. “Goodnight, Nattie.” 
She wished him a goodnight just before he hung up, then tossed her phone onto the couch cushion next to her with a sigh as she leaned back, unsure what to say given Heather’s recent revelations. “Okay, what the hell? How is it that you didn’t mention any of this?” She asked loudly.
“In my defense, I did tell you about Chris,” Nat told her, handing her hands up innocently as she stared at Heather.
Heather rolled her eyes, scoffing as she corrected her, “You failed to mention it was Chris Evans. That’s kind of a big deal!” 
“That’s why I didn’t want to mention it. I didn’t want it to be a big deal when I wasn’t sure what was going to happen with him being in Europe to film for a few months,” Nat admitted, biting her lip nervously as she remembered those fears. 
Heather tilted her head, looking at Nat curiously as she spoke. “He called you just to say goodnight and hear your voice… so I think you can be sure,” she told her, leaning an arm on the back cushion of the couch as she looked at her younger sister. “How do you feel about him, Nattie?” 
Nat sighed, unable to help herself as she smiled and admitted, “Heather… he’s incredible.” 
Heather all but scoffed again, joking, “Well duh, just look at him.” 
“I mean, I’m not complaining about that,” Nat assured her with a short laugh, but then waved a hand vaguely. “But it’s so much more than that, Chris is… one of my best friends.” 
Heather’s smile turned genuinely happy for Nat, and she reached out to touch her hand as she told her, “That’s the way it should be.” 
Nat nodded, swallowing some emotion away as she confessed, “I just have come to see that I never had that with Shane. I never felt like we were friends.” She paused, reaching for the box of tissues on the coffee table as she shrugged and wiped her eyes. “I never felt like he enjoyed spending time with me… and looking back I see that I never felt like he even enjoyed me unless I was doing exactly what he wanted.” 
Heather’s face fell as she listened to Nat’s admission, and Nat knew that despite having never told any of her family that feeling before, it was more than likely a known topic of discussion among the other Marton members. They hadn’t been shy in telling her after she and Shane broke up that they weren’t the biggest fans of him towards the end, but Nat could only guess how long they truly felt that way. “But you don’t feel that with Chris?” She asked Nat quietly, a protectiveness in her voice. 
She shook her head, a pleased, but also relieved smile on her lips. “I feel like Chris likes me,” she told Heather, shrugging. “He makes me happy that I’m me, rather than embarrassed.” 
And the matching relieved smile on Heather’s face told Nat all she needed to know about Heather’s gut feeling as she said, “That’s the way that it should be, Nat. That’s how it is when things are right.” 
Heather’s simple words echoed in Nat’s mind as the characters in the movie arrived at the hotel, capturing the older woman’s attention. But Nat couldn’t help but stare at her phone, a tiny grin on her face as she saw a text from Chris, apologizing for the interruption and hoping that she enjoyed Heather’s visit. And for the first time in nearly a month, she felt at ease and content with life, not just with Chris. 
A/N: We can’t wait to hear your thoughts!!! Thank you SO much for reading.
151 notes · View notes
milfgyuu · 1 year
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Heart & Seoul | Ch. 14 [M] END
❥ Pairing(s): Jeon Wonwoo x Fem!Reader
❥ Series Tags: Series, Exes to Lovers!AU, Fluff, Mild Angst, Mutual Pining, Humor, Romance, Smut.
❥ Chapter Warnings: [8.5k words] Explicit Sexual Content 18+, smut scenes are short and not super detailed, oral (f) implied, unprotected sex (mxf) implied, language, medical things, lots of tooth rotting sweetness, that should cover it!
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❥ Check out the Series Master List here! ~ banners made by @beaniegyu
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❥ Summary: Your first love hit hard & fast but it was all swept away in the blink of an eye when your boyfriend is sent away to a Korean University after your high school graduation. Seven years later, work lands you in the heart of Seoul and never in your wildest dreams did you imagine running into the one person who’d left with your heart years ago.
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The nurse politely clears her throat to get your attention and smiles at the two of you. “Your test results should be ready so I’ll grab the doctor and we’ll be right in with you, okay?”
You both nod politely though Wonwoo still hasn’t a clue what’s going on and she sees herself out, closing the door behind her with a soft click. “What’s going on, babe? Is there something wrong? I can call Cheol and-”
“Cheol,” you swallow unevenly, “Cheol referred me here. When I was in the hospital, my lab results had shown some elevations that indicate that I could-”
There is a knock on the door and your heart stops. 
Moment of truth.
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Wonwoo could count all the times his heart had stopped beating on one hand. 
Once when you’d first kissed under the bleachers outside the school. Another when you told him you loved him for the first time. The day he ran into you outside the coffee shop. When you were laying in the hospital and he thought he lost you for good. 
And, finally, the moment the doctor explained why you where there. 
Each time he was met with a different feeling. The first time it was shock and awe that the two of you could be so bold; two kids who hardly knew one another but saw something within that no one else had bothered to notice. Twin flames who sparked recognition in each other’s eyes and comfort in vulnerable, shaking hands.
 When you confessed he was overwhelmed with joy. The skin of his cheeks pinched, stinging with how insistent his smile had been the moment your words hit home.
The universe bringing you back together left him with hope blossoming in his chest; like a hardy flower coiled tightly, protected within the cage of his heart against a long, cold winter had finally felt the sun upon it’s petals again and begin to open back up, ready to show the world all it’s glory once more.
Watching you lay broken and motionless in the hospital had devastated him. He’d run through every second of your lives together; every touch, every kiss, every petty argument and the love and laughter that had followed. He begged for your return, for you to open your eyes and tell him it’s all okay so you could have a million more little moments to remember together.
Finding out that you were here because there was a possibility your health was in jeopardy made his legs weak, his feet numb. 
Not now…not when you still had so much to look forward to. 
“...now if you look at your values here,” the doctor points to numbers on her computer screen, “...and you compare them with today’s values,” she shifts her finger over toward a different number, “...you’ll see that there is a significant difference in the two and that is exactly what we were hoping for. Seungcheol was absolutely validated in his concern because the numbers on his work-up’s are far out of range for a woman your age but those can be heavily influenced when you’re dealing with a trauma case.”
“So,” your voice is so quiet, merely more than a whisper of hope, “Does this mean I’m…okay?”
“A little more than just ‘OK’,” she grins as she makes a note in your record, “I’d like to repeat lab work in three months but I’m very happy with these results.”
You can feel Wonwoo’s posture slump at your side as you let out a long breath that feels like it’s been waiting to be released for weeks. He must be so angry with you for withholding something this important when you’d not long ago made him promise to never do the same to you again. It makes you feel too ashamed to meet his eyes. 
He doesn’t allow the silence to hold though and when he speaks, his deep voice is soothing. There isn’t an ounce of betrayal or anger or disappointment. 
He sounds relieved and you realize how dreadful the last hour or so must have been for him; getting an urgent call, being rushed to a medical facility, having no clue if you were okay or not. 
“I’m so sorry,” falls from his lips first, fingers curling around your cold hand. “All this time you’ve been dealing with this on your own - I didn’t know…why-,” his brows furrow in that familiar way they always do when he’s thinking before he focuses on your face again, “-why wouldn’t Cheol tell me that something might be wrong?”
Biting your lips, you squeeze his hand. “I asked him not to,” you admit with a guilty whisper, “I didn’t want you to worry anymore than you already were and it wasn’t even a sure thing to begin with…I should have just told you instead of all…this.”
Wonwoo kisses your knuckles, your hand cupped carefully between his. “As long as everything is okay,” he reassures you, “That’s all that matters.”
You wish for nothing more than to cage yourself in his arms and allow his simple presence to soothe the ache in your chest but there is a knock at the door and the doctor cracks it open and a nurse speaks quietly with her for a moment before disappearing. 
“Apologies for the interruption,” she turns and smiles kindly, “I’ll be just a moment if you don’t mind.”
“Of course,” you and Wonwoo both speak at the same time and you dip your head politely, “Take your time.”
Her nose scrunches in a personable sort of a fashion and she slips out the door with your chart in hand. The soft click of the door shutting releases another bout of tension in your shoulders. Wonwoo comes around to stand in front of you and he cups both cheeks, eyes darting over every inch of your face. 
“I know I’m being a bit of a hypocrite here but promise me,” he stresses the word, pleading with you to not argue, “Promise me you’ll lean on me for things like this.”
You pucker your lips and he sighs, leaning down to kiss you. “I promise.”
He finally smiles and it’s instantly contagious. He chuckles at the little wink you throw in. “For better or for worse…right?”
Your heartbeat stumbles in your chest. “We haven’t made those sort of vows yet.”
He purses his lips. “I think we should.”
Oh.
Another knock at the door shelves that conversation and the doctor pops back in just as Wonwoo’s phone buzzes for the umpteenth time and he quickly tugs it out with an apology. “Ah, I’m sorry,” he glances over the long list of messages and missed calls, “Big family…lots of worriers.”
You run a hand over his arm with a small smile, “I know you had to run out of the office. Why don’t you head back and we’ll catch up over dinner when you get home?”
He seems hesitant to leave and when he looks up the doctor just smiles.
“Honey, it’s okay,” you reassure him once again with a soft smile. “Mingyu can drive me home when I’m done. Let everyone know I’m fine, okay?”
Another moment of hesitance and then his phone buzzes, yet again, and he sighs. “I am so close to tossing this thing in the river,” he jokes, rolling his eyes in exasperation before turning to the doctor, “Thank you so much for everything and apologies again for my arrival…and my exit.”
She chuckles heartily, your chart clutched against her chest as she bows her head. “No need to apologize,” she says, and then nods in your direction, “It’s lovely to see all the love and support you have here.”
Wonwoo shoots you a wink on his way out and you can’t help thinking about that comment he made only a few minutes before. Talking about vows and such - as if your heart hadn’t been working in overtime already.
You’ll attempt to get something out of him soon but for now - you’ve got far too much on your plate to worry about nuptials anyhow.
Planning, packing, moving - it’s constant and time seems to move in hyper-speed as of late. The best you can do is hang on tight and take life as it comes at you.
It’s no surprise that the next two weeks pass by faster than the blink of an eye. 
You start each day by coaxing Wonwoo out of bed with bribery in the form of sweet kisses and then trying not to trip over Gureum as you’re walking around the house to prepare for the day, talking and purring as he weaves through your moving legs. There had been so much to do that it filled each and every hour of the day until you were nearly crashing into bed come nightfall.
As a result, time slipped by seemingly unannounced because you can hardly believe that you’re already bouncing anxiously in an airport terminal waiting for Sam and JJ’s flight to land. Wonwoo’s hand falls softly to your thigh to still your constant motion but you only stop for a moment before the bouncing picks up again.
“You’re going to bounce right off the bench,” he snickers quietly. 
Trying your best to relax, you stretch your limbs and settle deeper into the padded airport seating. “I just can’t believe she’s finally going to be here. It feels like a dream.”
Wonwoo smirks. “Your brother is coming too you know…”
You flop your hand dismissively. Of course you’re happy JJ is here but Sam is the other half of your whole. She’s also the one person in the world who can take your crazy busy life and break it down into sections, organize it, color code it, and declutter your mind. You had happily handed over the reigns for your big move when she’d offered. 
When the plane’s arrival is announced you jump up from your seat as if she’d just magically pop out of the boarding gate right away. Wonwoo’s hand is steady on the back of your thigh as he sits a bit longer, using your distraction to quickly check his messages, firing off a few quick responses before pocketing it and standing at your side. His hand automatically finds a home against your back and he smiles when you sink into his touch. 
He simply watches you for a few minutes, eyes glued to your side profile as your own search the first few passengers that begin to filter out. His heart aches with how full it feels just seeing you this happy and he hopes to capture many more moments like this in the coming days. 
“Can you see them?” you stand on your toes as the crowd of passengers and the loved ones receiving them begin to crowd the terminal. 
Wonwoo cranes his neck and catches a glimpse of your brother’s hair but before he has a chance to mention it you’re tearing away from him at record speed. He almost has a hard time following your trail but he can hear you. 
...And Sam still gives the best hugs. 
The kind that wrap you in warmth and affection even if you are struggling a bit for air and you feel your back and shoulder crack in two different places it doesn’t matter because your best friend is actually here. The two of you are quietly gossiping and giggling as Wonwoo and your brother share a very casual hug and look of amusement at the two of you practically melting together. 
Sam pulls back and cups your cheeks like an old grandma, squishing them together with an adoring pout. “Your face,” she coos, “It’s real and not inside my phone screen!”
“I know!” you reach up and pinch her cheek too, “Look at your face! You look amazing!”
“Shut up! No, look at you,” she steps back far enough to look you up and down, “You’re glowing! I told you this was the best decision you’ve ever made and it shows. Your cheeks are full, your hair is shining, skin so clear you should be in magazines - tell me, who was right? Let me hear it.”
You roll your eyes playfully. “You were right,” you look over at Wonwoo softly, “Best decision I’ve ever made.”
Sam catches the motion and winks at Wonwoo. “You’re welcome.”
“Oh my god! Wait,” you reach for her arm, ”Let me see it! Let me see it!”
Sam giggles and sticks out her left hand, wiggling her fingers to show off her gorgeous engagement ring. You fall into whispers about the ring and the proposal and wedding talk and then there is a loud, obvious, cough to your left.
“I am also here…in case you forgot.” You look over at your brother in surprise, as if you’re honestly just remembering he’s there. 
You grin and slink over to wrap your arms around him, swaying him side to side and chuckling over his feigned disinterest. “Not my fault you decided to fall in love and marry my best friend,” you sing before he wiggles out of your grip, “You will always be second place.”
At first, you’re too busy bickering and taunting your brother to notice Wonwoo and Sam speaking very, very quietly a few feet away but ever aware, Sam catches you approaching and wraps her arm around your own as if nothing happened.
“Why don’t you show us that fancy new house I get to decorate?”
She pulls you along toward baggage claim and you snort at her desire to jump right into the hard work. Well hard work in your opinion. It’s like Christmas to Sam. 
“You literally just landed and we’re moving in two days - don’t you want to just relax? Aren’t you supposed to be…engagement…honeymooning?”
Sam shakes her head. “Oh, no, I want to see what I’m working with in person so I can make alterations to the furniture Hannie and I ordered in case they’re not going to work.”
“Should have known you and Jeonghan would get along famously.”
“He’s a freaking gem,” she exclaims in a hushed voice, “Wonwoo better watch out before I steal his handler and take him back to the states in my carry on.”
Wonwoo’s voice rumbles from behind you where he’s walking and chatting with your brother. “Keep your mits off my man, Samantha.”
“Fine, fine,” she waves her hand over her shoulder, “Your girl is mine though…” she teases, tugging you closer, “Even when you put a ring on it.”
Wonwoo almost trips over his own foot but he manages to catch himself and not sweat through his clothes because yeah, he get’s sweaty when he’s nervous, ok? 
Thankfully, Sam and JJ will be keeping you occupied well enough for him to finish finalizing surprise party plans without you catching on. 
He survives the next forty-eight hours which he had thought might never end with the constant driving around, phone calls from work, texts from vendors and almost everyone else he knows pinging his phone at all hours, and the wretched quality of sleep he’s been getting. He’s exhausted but he reminds himself of the payoff and tries not to grumble too much when you try to wake him this morning.
Unfortunately, moving day begins with a headache in his temples and ice-cold monster in his hand despite your best efforts to gently rouse him. 
Thankfully, the weather isn’t too warm nor too cold, a light breeze pushing through the trees around your new home to cool the sweat from hauling boxes and furniture inside. He could easily afford to have the entire process handled by the moving company but you and Sam both insisted it was better to be a part of the process and so, here he is. 
Part of the process.
He’s a little envious of Gureum who’s cooped up in your former, and Chan’s current, apartment - lazing about, waiting for the hard work to be completed.
Thankfully, the movers cared for the brunt of the work with Mingyu sneaking in alongside them to help, as if they weren’t a professional moving company, but of course Mingyu makes friends everywhere he goes and they don’t seem to mind the extra muscle. You’re sure he’s invited them all to his restaurant for a meal. 
Jeonghan and Sam are a formidable team, as expected, and make sure everything gets put in the right place - even if that means they need to be moved around a time or two until it’s perfect. They’re almost a bit scary when they’re in the zone of organizing and directing so you mostly stay out of the way, especially when they make Mingyu and Wonwoo shift the dining room furniture twice after the movers left. 
Chan lucked out for the simple fact that you banned him from carrying anything and your brother lucked out when Sam sent the two of them on some errands. They disappeared pretty quickly after that and hadn’t returned since. You were sure they were taking their sweet time and would probably blame their pace on Chan’s foot.
Wonwoo slinks away the moment the design team seems satisfied with the table placement and start talking about linens, Sam’s favorite, and he looks through the still unfamiliar halls, searching for your comfort. You’re not in the bedroom, nor the office, so he wanders back out into the living area and your soft laughter floats out from the kitchen. 
He stops when he sees you and leans in the doorway, choosing to observe for a moment without interrupting. You’ve got Yeojin on the kitchen counter, one arm wrapped around her little legs as you stand behind her and let her help put the dishes away in the cabinet. She can only hold one thing at a time with her small hands but you’re so incredibly patient, smiling as you watch her concentrate on aligning the glasses to perfection.
When Mingyu asked if it would be okay to bring Yeojin he’d hardly squeezed the question out before you told him to stop asking and to just start bringing her along. You loved having the little girl around and Wonwoo…he was quite fond as well. Especially when he watches you together.
He waits a few more minutes before intruding. 
“You girls look awfully busy,” Wonwoo murmurs gently, a wry smile on his face when you turn to him in surprise. 
Yeojin grins delightedly as Wonwoo walks over, wrapping an arm around you from behind and stretching one finger out to poke the little girl’s side, eliciting a trilling giggle. “Auntie Daisy said I could help.”
A little puff of amusement escapes from your nose at the nickname. 
“You’re doing a wonderful job,” Wonwoo compliments her, passing another plate into her tiny hands. He makes sure she’s got a good grip on it before he let’s go and you both watch her very carefully place it upon the stack she’s already created. 
When she’s done, he hands her another.
It’s almost like a borrowed moment in time and he wishes for more and more of them as the days go by. He wishes for a little girl with round cheeks and too-mature vocabulary that he didn’t have to say goodbye to at the end of the day. One with your eyes and his smile. It didn’t even have to be a girl. It could be -
Wonwoo’s thoughts are swiftly interrupted by a saccharine voice that haunts him day and night. Jeonghan smirks, peering over Wonwoo’s shoulder. “What a pretty picture,” he whispers just loud enough for you both to hear before turning his attention upwards, “Jinnie! What a beautiful job you’ve done! I’ve never seen such nicely organized cabinets.”
Yeojin beams down at him and doesn’t hesitate to leap into Jeonghan’s outstretched arms, though the dare devil action makes the breath catch in both yours and Wonwoo’s throat. Jeonghan ignores your disapproving glares and bounces with glee. “Let’s leave the rest of this to the adults, hm? I have a much more important task for you.”
Yeojin’s eyes widen and the frowns melt right off your faces at the sight of her excitement. “I want to help!” 
Jeonghan makes a goofy face like he’s silently cheering and lifts her little arm. “To the back yard!” he shouts and then takes off with Yeojin bouncing and giggling all the way.
You laugh quietly, the sound echoing in the grand, empty room. You drop your head against Wonwoo’s shoulder and his hands slide across your stomach, his thumb rubbing right above your navel. He kisses the side of your face and you smile, humming contentedly. 
“Happy?”
His question is simple. It holds no teasing nor flirtation. He’s genuinely curious. 
He allows you the space to turn in his arms until you're able to face him and bring your arms around his shoulders. He presses you into the counter and looks into your eyes. 
“Happy,” you respond, your breath tickling his lips. “I’m...elated, grateful, exhausted,” you share a laugh, the sound intermingling, “I love our home…and our family,” he understands whom you’re referring to and you kiss him softly before meeting his eyes again, “I love you and honestly…” you glance around the room, “I love this fucking kitchen.”
Wonwoo laughs but he easily receives you when you lean into him and capture his lips. He wastes no time in licking along the seam of yours and bringing his hand up to cup the side of your neck, his thumb tipping your jaw upwards. The granite counter digs into your back, even as Wonwoo tries to lessen the pressure by securing his arm around you. 
“If we were alone,” he says against your lips, “I’d give you reasons to love it even more.”
You giggle in delight - making out with Wonwoo in your new home, all sorts of wicked promises being whispered in your ear, between your lips, and against your throat is something you’d dreamed about once or twice.   
Mingyu walks in only a minute later and stumbles backwards at the sight of you tangled up in one another. “Oh shit! My bad!” he spins around to leave but then turns back, “Wait…where’s Jinnie?”
You cover your mouth, embarrassed at having been caught. “Sorry,” you laugh, “We’re done. Promise.”
“Says you,” Wonwoo mumbles before smirking at his friend. “I don’t give a shit if he stays.”
Mingyu tuts in disapproval. “I’m a chef - fucking in the kitchen is against the rules.”
Wonwoo narrows his eyes with a retort, “You’re full of shi-”
You transfer your hand to his mouth and stop him. “Yeojin was kidnapped by Jeonghan for who knows what,” you redirect back to Mingyu’s original question, smiling at the way his hair is sticking up, slick with sweat. “Damn. Sam’s putting you guys to work, huh?”
Wonwoo snorts, dropping his hand to rest on your hip. Slightly more appropriate than before.
“She’s bossier than Seungkwan and Jeonghan put together,” Mingyu rests against the arched entry and then nearly shrieks when Samantha ducks under his arm, swatting him right in the stomach.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she scoffs, swiftly moving past him into the open kitchen, “The view from here is amazing,” she leans against the double sink and peers out the windows and into the backyard where Jeonghan is animatedly waving his hands around in front of Yeojin. “You can watch the kids from here - kind of like your mom did when we were growing up.”
“Remember your eighth birthday,” she reminisces to the pretty glass window, “We spied through the kitchen windows and waited until your mom left to run in and steal a piece of ca-”
Your sniffle makes Sam slowly spin toward you. Wonwoo glances at you curiously, Mingyu straightens in the doorway because…you’re…crying?
“What’s wrong?”
Wonwoo hugs you a little closer and you look at the three of them in confusion before realizing your face is wet. You hastily wipe your cheeks, laughing it off. 
“Don’t mind me,” you chuckle wistfully, “I just…get a little homesick sometimes. I love my life here, obviously, I just miss our big family. I miss you guys and being able to hang out whenever we want. It’s hard being so far away.”
“Oh, honey,” Sam pouts, walking toward you with open arms. 
You tuck your chin over her shoulder and hug her back as she swings you side to side. It’s true - you’ve been missing your family a lot lately. Growing up you we’re used to being surrounded by your siblings and watching your parents work together to try and make sure everyone was fed, bathed, clothed, loved. There were times you felt lost in such a busy household but you miss it - especially when you’re with your Seoul family.
And maybe a tiny part of you pictured kids playing in the backyard while you made their birthday cake. You mentally note to video chat with your mom, again. You’d be on with her every few nights before Sam and JJ arrived and you were already missing her.
The sweet moment is interrupted when Mingyu joins your hug, squeezing the two of you in his long, bulky, and disturbingly sweaty arms. You and Sam whine in protest and he squeezes harder. “The atmosphere went from horny, to sad, to sentimental so fast in here but man I love you guys!”
“Mingyu!” you grunt, “My face is in your armpit!”
“Did you say horny?!” Sam gags at the feeling of his sticky skin. “Oh my god! Gross! Let go!”
Mingyu doesn’t elaborate. He grins and reaches for Wonwoo but Sam uses the opportunity to slip free which gives Wonwoo the chance to reach back toward Mingyu and pinche his nipple until he let’s you go. You’re snickering at the way Mingyu screeches and he’s about to say something largely inappropriate but a tiny giggle in the doorway makes him stop in his tracks. 
Jeonghan, Seungkwan, and Yeojin look up at him from the entry, the adults waiting with a raised brow for him to continue whilst the littlest one in the middle anticipates an opportunity to collect more coins for her swear jar. Mingyu settles back against the counter and grumbles instead, rubbing his chest with a glare in Wonwoo’s direction. 
If Yeojin could read lips, he’d still owe her. 
Miraculously, JJ and Chan make it back just in time to dig into the to-go bags Seungkwan had come to deliver before running back to the restaurant. Sam shooed the two of them away until the people who had actually done the hard work made their plates - which meant Yeojin was served first - before they were allowed to join in.
A bit worn down, you sit back in your chair at the dining table, quietly smiling to yourself when Wonwoo takes your hand, pulling it to his lips. Meeting his gaze, he winks and you mouth back ‘I love you’. Everyone else notices but they don’t say a word, content to let the two of you share the moment in peace.
“So, Miss Daisy,” Jeonghan grins from across the table, “Your birthday is next weekend. Any big plans?”
Your lips close around your spoon the same time your eyes pop open in surprise. You hadn’t actually thought about it. Everything had been such a whirlwind of change lately that you forgot your own birthday.
Sam reads you so quickly. “You forgot, didn’t you?”
“Honestly, it’s been so busy that I don’t know if I’m coming or going anymore.”
Yeojin quirks her head to the side. “Why don’t you know where you’re going?”
The adults giggle and Mingyu pats her hand explaining it’s just an expression. She still seems a little concerned but continues eating and Wonwoo wipes his mouth. “I actually booked appointments for you and Sam at the spa on your birthday and I thought we could have dinner at the house together that night.”
You’re glad he didn’t suggest going out for dinner, drinks, and karaoke. Going to the spa with your best friend and having a quiet dinner with your friends is exactly the way you’d like to spend your day. You smile at him. “You read my mind, baby.”
Yeojin makes another face. “He’s a grown up,” she points out, “Auntie, did you bump your head?”
JJ snorts loudly which causes Chan to cackle, then Jeonghan nearly chokes on his mouthful, and sweet Yeojin just sits there not understanding why all the grown ups laugh until they’re falling over like she said a really funny joke and their belly hurts from laughing so hard.
Yeojin just smiles to herself. Adults are so silly sometimes.
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Your birthday starts off with a bang, literally, because when you wake up with Wonwoo’s head between your thighs, dragging an orgasm from your body before you’ve even opened your eyes, there is nothing stopping you from putting your lover on his back and riding him until the sun sits high in the morning sky. 
It’s a memory you both carry throughout the morning - even as you sit across the table from each other in a fancy breakfast spot. Being in public is probably a good thing because had you been alone at home he would have had you right on the kitchen counter as promised but as it stands, you have guests and he also needs to keep you out of the house for a few hours. So, he sits patiently, settling for sending you heated gazes over your breakfast plates and taking long, calming sips of his hot coffee. 
When he delivers you to the front doors of the day spa, Sam is already waiting for you so you can’t exactly tell Wonwoo to take you home instead. Once everyone is back home and you have another quiet weekend to yourselves you’ll talk him into staying in bed with you all day. For now, you kiss him goodbye - one, two, or three times too many until he’s grinning and gently pushing you into Sam’s awaiting grasp. 
He’ll get his hands on you later. For now - there is a ton of work to do.
Speaking of hands on you…
By the time you’re leaving the spa you feel like a buttered up cup of jello, for lack of better words. After facials, massages, manicures, pedicures, the works, your limbs are loose, your back and shoulders are tender but knot free, and your skin is smooth and moisturized. You expect to go right home but instead Hansol shows up to chauffeur you to another location. 
Sam’s gift apparently. 
Hansol drops you off at a nearby salon where you both spend another hour or so getting your hair and makeup done which is as wonderful as it is suspicious because why all the extra effort for a small dinner in the comfort of your own home? Sam evades all your poking questions and tells you to sit back and relax - enjoy your day.
Instead of Hansol, this time it’s Jeonghan who picks you up. His sporty silver BMW greeting you right at the front door where he rolls down the window and lowers his sunglasses, “Hop in ladies, we’ve got an appointment to make by four-thirty.”
You look at the time on your cell phone. “Han, that’s in fifteen minutes.”
“And it’s twenty minutes away,” he revs his engine and smirks, “So, get your gorgeous behinds in the car so we’re not late.”
Jeonghan’s gift, other than his pretty face, was shopping but not your average trip to the mall. Oh, no. In Jeonghan’s world apparently you’re greeted at the front door by name and there’s a private fitting room with a rack of clothing personally hand-picked and waiting for your approval. 
He hadn’t stuck around to find out what you chose - not that it mattered since he’d already arranged to have everything sent to the house after your fitting anyway. Jeonghan was confident that every piece he selected was something you’d choose for yourself. You know, if you didn’t have a budget to take into account. 
Jeonghan is not bound by such limitations. 
The clothing he chose was gorgeous and again…suspiciously too fancy for this small gathering that supposed to take place this evening but perhaps Wonwoo changed his mind about dinner at the house and made reservations somewhere else.
Sam doesn’t seem to know the answer to that when she shrugs and points to an outfit she’d already pre-approved for herself hanging over another dressing room door. She claims to have been given minimal information which again, triggers a little alarm in the back of your head. 
Sam isn’t a ‘minimal information’ kind of girl. 
However, when you squint at her, she squints back which is an indication that even if she knows, she’s not telling. 
You’re four dresses in when your next chauffeur arrives. 
Like something straight out of a k-drama, Mingyu walks into the store and is immediately flocked by woman offering their assistance, their phone numbers, their dignity. 
He shoots them all a million dollar smile and assures them he’s all taken care of before making a beeline for you at the back of the store. Those long, model-esque legs carrying him easily through the crowd of employees and gawking women who’ve abandoned their purchases to catch a glimpse. 
He’s in crisp, fitted grey slacks and an equally tight pressed button down - half the buttons hanging open - and he sends you a wolfish grin that makes you wonder how on earth the idiot is still single. He’s goofball but a very handsome one. “Ladies.”
Sam chuckles at the stupid spin he does to show off his outfit. “Oh, he cleans up! I thought you were just a sweaty meathead who likes to cook. Must say I’m impressed.”
“I am a sweaty meathead who likes to cook but I also know how to follow dress code.”
You snort at their exchange. “And pray-tell,” you peer back at your side profile - still unsure which outfit to choose, “What exactly is the dress code?”
Mingyu gestures to his clothes again like that’s all you need to know.
“Sexy,” he actually explains aloud, “Obviously.” 
He tilts his head in consideration when you show him the dress you currently have on. It’s pretty but you’re not sold on the color, especially when you behold Mingyu and again consider the dress Sam has set aside - it doesn’t seem to be a match. He’s quirking a brow at you in question. “Help yourself,” you chuckle.
If he wants to play dress up, you’re more than willing to let him. 
When his hand lands on the hanger of the champagne colored silk dress, Sam lights up and you realize that even if she had told you a hundred times over the choice was yours, she’d definitely had a favorite in mind. She takes the hanger from Mingyu and runs her fingers along the fabric with a smile. “You’re going to look fricking amazing in this dress,” she grins as she hands it over to you, “Wonwoo isn’t going to know what to do with himself when he sees you.”
You snort, closing the door to change outfits. “Why exactly are we dressing so nicely again?”
Mingyu plops down in a chair, crossing one leg over his knee. “It’s a special occasion,” he answers, seemingly distracted, probably on his phone you think.
“It’s just my birthday.” Even as you say it, the silk glides over your skin and you glance in the mirror, gawking at your own reflection. You feel every bit as stunning as you look. 
“Maybe we just want to celebrate all the wonderful things that have happened since your last birthday,” Sam hollers back from her own dressing room, “Maybe you should just get dressed and hush, birthday girl!”
Mingyu huffs out a laugh at the quiet grumbling coming from behind your door and then you emerge and he blinks one too many times. “Damn,” he coughs, “That looks even better than I thought.”
You roll your eyes though you’re beaming inside because you look and feel really good. 
Sam comes out a moment later and she whistles at you, as if she doesn’t look like a whole smoke show herself. “Um, this dress was made for you,” she circles you, adjusting material at the top with her prettily manicured fingers. “You fill this out like a Greek goddess.”
“Please,” you groan, “Are you saying i’m ancient?”
Mingyu kisses his teeth and offers a half-smirk. “She’s saying you belong in a gallery.”
“I’m saying what ever you’re doing - keep doing it. You look incredible.”
You don’t have a response for that but it’s not necessary because Mingyu is standing and extending an arm out to each of you. “As much as I’d love to sit here and admire the view a bit longer, we’re expected at our final location soon.”
“And that location is?” you attempt, hands around his arm as you bat your lashes up at him.
He winks right back and Sam snorts. “Nice try.”
After all the secrets and surprises and one noticeable loop around the block, you’re confused when you pull up in front of your home, as planned. It’s quiet and nothing is out of the ordinary when you walk up to the front door with Mingyu and Sam a step behind and nothing jumps out when you push through the door and into the entry hall. 
You spin halfway to ask what’s going on when a tiny familiar voice comes hauling through the house toward you. You turn around just in time to catch Yeojin as she throws herself into your arms to give you a hug. “Happy birthday Auntie!”
You squeeze her tight and pull back to look at her. “Oh, Jinnie! You’re dress is so pretty!”
“Thank you,” she smiles bashfully, “Mommy bought it for me!”
Mingyu clears his throat. “Don’t you have something to show Auntie Daisy?”
Boy does she. 
Her little eyes light up with anticipation and she grabs your hand, pulling you through your quiet house until a light flicks on in your living room and it erupts with noise and excitement. Yeojin drops your hand and runs to her parents who are there along with all your other friends; Hoshi, Jun, Seungkwan, Hansol, Jeonghan, Seungcheol, Yeri. 
Your parents. Your siblings. Your nieces and nephews. 
Your mom pushes toward you the second you lock eyes and your arms come around her so quickly and so tightly a choked laugh spills from your lips. Your dad wraps his arms around both of you and it goes on like this for several minutes - hugging and laughing and crying because your family is here and you’ve missed them so much your chest feels like it could burst any moment. 
Wonwoo sits back and watches you - patient as ever as you greet your family and friends. The light in your eyes is dazzling and watching you whirl around the room in disbelief is something he’s been dreaming about ever since he’d began planning for this. All the time and effort that went into getting everyone together like this was worth it just to see that look in your eyes. 
You can hardly believe what you’re experiencing in the moment - that your family is actually here and you’re able to hug them and hold them. Your older and younger sisters take turns fawning over you. You’re able to pinch your big brother’s cheek and wrap your arms around his children. What it must have taken to get everyone here together for this moment…
You look around the room and find Wonwoo hanging back with Chan. His eyes are already on you as if he’s been waiting for you to greet everyone else before interrupting but the moment he smiles at you, you’re moving across the room. 
“Happy birthday,” he grins, hands pulling from his pockets slowly. 
You don’t wait for him to reach out to you before your grabbing his face and kissing him. 
The attention garnered doesn’t derail him from kissing you back, nor does it keep him from dipping you backwards to make a show of it. He grins against your lips at the whooping and hollering. “I can’t believe you did all this for me.”
Wonwoo’s hand glides over the silk material at your back. “You’ve given me everything,” he says quietly, “This is the least I could do. Also had some help.”
He smirks and you meet Sam, Mingyu, and Jeonghan’s eyes. 
It feels so incredibly warm and frankly overwhelming to be so…loved. 
All throughout the night, you bounce from family to friend happily catching up, laughing, talking, eating. Even more so, you love watching your two worlds come together. 
Mingyu spends most his time proudly explaining his dishes to your father and brother. Yeri, Sam, Jeonghan and his handsome friend Joshua all connect over the home decor and some design theory you’re all too happy to let them dish about without you. Seungkwan argues with Soonyoung about something that happened in their youth while Jun and Hansol happily monitor just in case the conversation gets too heated. 
Little groups intermingle and get to know each other - even through language barriers - and all the children play together, their giggles echoing through the halls.
In the midst of conversation with your mother and Mingyu’s sister about the school, the distinct sound of silverware clinking against glass quiets everyone and turns the attention to Samantha near the kitchen. 
“Thank you so much for being here tonight to celebrate with us,” she smiles and you can hear whispered translations as she pauses and looks toward you and Wonwoo, “And special thank you to the man who brought us all together. Wonwoo, I think the floor is yours, if you’re ready.”
Everyone is clapping and cheering and you’re not sure why it sounds like they’re gearing for a big emotional speech when your man is one of very few words but Wonwoo turns toward you with an incredibly soft smile. 
“You know I’m not particularly great at this sort of thing,” he chuckles nervously.
Chan raises his glass. “We believe in you, brother!”
Another round of whooping shakes the edge off Wonwoo’s nerves and he laughs it off. 
“Thank you for that,” he huffs out bemusedly before focusing on you again. “Obviously, I wanted to bring everyone together for your birthday, but I was also hoping to use this opportunity…” he reaches into his pocket and procures a black velvet box, “...to ask you something.”
Tears immediately well in your eyes and you meet Sam’s gaze over his shoulder. She’s smiling back at you, tears streaming down her cheeks, clinging to your brother.
Wonwoo opens the box to reveal a stunning ring, it’s heavy oval shaped stone shining up at you. His hands tremble and he takes a deep breath only finding the courage he needed when you meet his eyes - all the love in the universe staring back at him and he moves his lips, praying the words will come out. 
“I’ve practiced this so many times I was sure I could get through it without messing up but proposing to Mingyu in the gym, or Jeonghan in the office, or Hoshi in the lair is way different than proposing to you right now,” he says and there are watery laughs, “You’re so much prettier.”
Another laugh escapes you, tears rolling down your cheeks. “What the hell is the lair?”
Wonwoo huffs out a short laugh. Of course you’d snag on that detail. “I’ll explain later.”
“Anyways - whatever I practiced is useless because I’m still that socially inept kid who fell in love with you in high school and I can’t form a single coherent thought when you look at me like that.”
Your lip quivers. “Like what?”
“Like I’m really worth something,” he answers softly and then he lowers himself down to one knee and looks up at you with such reverent affection and you brace yourself as he says your name. “I love you in ways I’ll never be able to fully express in words but I’ll spend every day for the rest of our lives showing you, if you’ll let me.”
Your heart swells and your legs feel weak and then he says it. 
“Will you marry me?”
You’re not sure if he fully finishes the question before you answer and then he’s on his feet, holding you and kissing you as everyone celebrates. The rush of emotion when he slips that ring onto your finger hits you square in the chest and you fall against him, face buried in the crook of his neck with your arms wound tightly around his neck. 
Your lover, your person, your soulmate, your future husband. 
The reality of all the hardships you’ve faced to come together again fall from your shoulders. The crushing weight of years lost just evaporate because you’re here now and that’s all that matters. His hand rubs up and down your back, his lips pressing into your hair over and over again as the people who love and care for you both share congratulatory hugs and heartfelt sentiments. 
You only part from your fiance when you hear your mother’s voice. She kisses Wonwoo’s cheek and you bring her into another crushing hug - incredibly grateful to have your family here more now than ever and suddenly, the thought strikes you that this sort of opportunity is going to be few and far in between.
You meet Mingyu’s eyes from across the room and his widen - making sure you’re absolutely certain of what you’re asking from him. Nodding, he slinks off just as you clear your throat, catching everyone’s attention. 
“Please pretend my makeup isn’t ruined,” you chuckle wiping under your eyes, “I really can’t believe any of this is happening but I am so happy you all are here and Wonwoo,” you hold your hand out to him and he takes it, squeezing your fingers, “I…I can’t even begin to say how grateful I am to have you and to share a life together with someone so kind and genuine…gentle and patient.”
You choke on the last few words, and Mingyu reappears at your side with two boxes. 
Taking one into your hands, Wonwoo looks at you curiously - as does everyone else aside from the one person you trusted to keep your secret until you were ready.
You supposed now was as good a time as any.
“I know it’s my birthday,” you smile, gesturing for Wonwoo to take the gift into his hands, “But I have a present for you too.”
Wonwoo cocks his head in confusion but you just smile, urging him to lift the lid.
Everyone watches as he gives you another curious grin but he lifts the lid and peers inside before letting it fall closed, his eyes darting up to your own. “You’re serious?”
“What is it?”
“What’s in the box?”
Everyone is murmuring questions in anticipation and Wonwoo peels back the lid completely, pulling a tiny gray singlet from it’s tissue paper nest. He holds it in his hands, marveling at how tiny and precious and - 
“YOU’RE PREGNANT?!”
Sam’s voice cuts clear across the room and Wonwoo pinches the shoulders of the onesie, showing it to everyone in the room. Sam practically weeps in JJ’s arms and your sisters nearly get bowled over by your mother. 
“I should have known when you wouldn’t touch that mimosa this morning!” Sam shouts, pointing her finger at you in accusation.
Your laughter is met with Mingyu’s reminder of the second box and you quickly grab it, offering it to Wonwoo who is still so struck with the first gift he can’t imagine what else you could possibly give him. He’s got everything he could ever need. 
“What is this?”
You beam at him, hands shaking. “It’s sort of a package deal…”
He falters, eyes growing wide. “You’re joking…”
“Is that a second box?!
“Open the box before we do!” 
“Yeah!”
Soonyoung and Jun are practically hanging off each other waiting for the reveal. 
Wonwoo removes the lid and dips his hand inside. When he pulls out a yellow singlet - identical size and pattern with the first - the excitement is near deafening and you drop the box as Wonwoo wraps his arms around you. 
“Twins?” he breathes in astonishment, “That’s what this means right?”
You nod fervently, so relieved to be able to share your secret with him at last. “I wanted to tell you as soon as I found out but we had so much going on and I wanted it to be special but with everyone here…I just wanted to share one more thing to be thankful for...well two things I suppose.”
Wonwoo runs his thumb over your cheek and kisses you again, soft and slow. 
The sound of overwhelming love and joy filling the room around you, and he lifts you off your feet but you already feel weightless, like you’re floating and Wonwoo is the rock that tethers you securely to the earth. 
Years and years down the road, when you’re looking back at the photos from this very night, the ones from your wedding, the birth of your twins, and so on, you’ll always remember the way you felt in the moment because with Wonwoo that feeling never wavers. The love, support, acceptance, gratitude - he makes sure you feel it every single day, just as he promised. 
Perhaps the universe was cruel - separating you when you were young and so in love but as time goes on, you learn to have a little faith in that old saying about things happening for a reason and making the heart grow fonder. 
When you take a look around at all the people you’ve grown to love and cherish along the way, you can’t find it in yourself to wish for your life to have gone any other way. 
Not when you sit back and watch your children play with Sam’s in the backyard. Or when Soonyoung and Seungkwan bicker over the logistics and rules of a card game while, as usual, Jun and Hansol tune them out to talk about something too deep to jump into mid-conversation. 
Not when you watch Mingyu’s wife shoo him away from the grill as Yeojin, tall and beautiful, teases her uncle for pouting and getting bossed around. Or Chan, who stops long enough to settle down - marrying his physical therapist after three years of travel and whirlwind romance. Certainly not when you get to watch Jeonghan finally give up and ask Joshua out - even if he still adamantly denies having a long standing crush.. 
You absolutely regret nothing when you watch your husband crawl out from beneath a happy, laughing dog-pile of children just to limp back over and offer you a tired smile and a kiss…
You know without a doubt had you the chance to do it all over again, you’d follow your heart to Seoul every single time. 
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liketwoswansinbalance · 4 months
Text
Man's Fallibility & Immortality
I found a practically perfect song, by my interpretation, to add to my Rise to Fall playlist. (I haven't cleaned up/updated the playlist fully, so I'm not posting the whole thing yet, but I think this particular song warrants its own post.)
First, listen to the song: Nothing's New - Rio Romeo
Then, what follows below is something of a tragedy-analysis, abstract, meta-thing/omniscient prose narration experiment. I don't know what it is—an outpouring of thoughts. It may strike a similar chord as my narration at the end of Simony and its epilogue.
(Simony was a prediction fic I wrote before the publication of Fall. An extremely erroneous one though. I still think it could work, but oh, how wrong I was.
The direction Soman took the plot in, just, it was unpredictable, even if I did enjoy the book. I still like Rise better than Fall though, of the duology. If Rise had just ended at the point of: Vulcan is dead, Rafal tortures his students, and the brothers gradually learn to trust each other again, that would've been nice and comforting, honestly. But no, substitutes, substitutes, substitutes! On both sides. Drives me insane. Ack! But, I have four, short fics planned that have alternate endings to Rise and to Fall, to make up for it. Well, one of them is so far a little longer, three chapters long.)
If anyone wants me to analyze the actual lyrics more closely, I'm willing to do that too!
The tales.
They are all the same.
Good winning, Evil winning.
What difference does it make after centuries, really?
Everything probably feels numb and empty after a certain point.
Like nothing matters anymore.
Undiluted apathy after that certain point.
When? I've lost track.
When losses and victories all ring hollow, and all sound the same.
The End.
That's all It wrote.
The sum of lives distilled down to ink and illustrations.
Nothing beyond that. No life, no spark.
What more is there? When nothing will ever satisfy the restless souls, not even an Ending all to themselves.
Just pages that will yellow with time even if the stories themselves are timeless because nothing changes.
Nothing ever changes.
There's no evolution.
Every tale is the same.
It becomes nothing after nothing, not victory after victory, when you're ageless like we are.
And how, if that's how it is?
Why bother?
Why bother at all?
It's a cycle that continues, with or without the brothers.
Ceaseless.
So, why should it matter?
It's the same with or without them.
Their position was always ceremonial.
After a while, anyone becomes tiring. Anyone.
And one person just isn't enough, when you have no one else.
No one else to shield you.
It gets old. The love just... fades, and wears out.
Perhaps, human love can only span for so long, and that's why humans are mortal.
Made mortal, and no one should traverse beyond that.
It always leads to hubris, and then, a fall.
An unnatural fear of death trained into them, when limits were never set, when power was never checked, when they expected to have all the time in the world.
Nothing is built to last. At least, not by the Storian.
It does whatever it pleases.
You can't extend a life past its time.
It will always end in ruin. Isn't that the lesson the storybooks teach?
A cautionary tale.
Again and again, the cycle continues.
Every failed holy-grail of immortality, every spilled cup drawn from the fountain of youth, every cursed head of lettuce, every white snake, every chalice of sleeping draught that led to execution after execution, every baptism that succumbed to primordial wickedness, every impoverished fisherman's hovel?
Why not a tale about two brothers?
One where two are felled.
To caution against mortal greed that even immortality can't peel away.
To caution against always wanting more until you're left with nothing.
Nothing at all.
Just like how you can't truly resurrect anyone as who they once were, you can't revive the soul that a person once was.
And you can't play at being God because it defies the rules of nature.
And all that we know about transience and permanence and how ephemeral everything else is.
Everything but Man, who vies to leave a legacy wherever he goes, at any price, even at the cost of his soul, not life.
Now, I do wonder if I made anyone emotional? I certainly tried this time around, to be a provocateur like Soman is. Tell me what you think, if you want.
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