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stylesispunk · 2 months ago

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"Blind faith" | part viii

priest!Joel Miller x dancer!reader

masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

Summary: Joel's name in your mind hurts. Everything inside you hurts. But seeing him again leaves both of you with hearts broken. w.c: 8.5k

warnings: age gap (Joel's is in his late 40s and reader late 20s early 30s), heavy angst, violence against reader, choking, mentions of panic attacks, grief, mentions of mental health, forbidden love. Mentions of politics, mentions of exile. Remmeber english is not my first language and blablabla. Reader is Latina. (She worrying about joel shows how good she is).

a/n: Oh man, I cried a bit while writing this one. There is a lot of pain on reader's heart and mind. I wish I can have next chapter ready for next week but I will busy busy during the next four weeks, so i hope you can enjoy this one a bit. Yes, it's angsty but still. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. If you read and don't leave a comment I will cry.

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Since the beginning of time, bad men had existed. You knew that — not in theory, not from bedtime stories or whispered warnings at the dinner table, but in the marrow of your bones. You’d grown up with those same phrases every mother in your country had murmured to their children like prayers: Don’t take candy from strangers. Don’t follow a stranger. Don’t believe their kind words, their empty promises.

But the truth was, you didn’t need the warnings. You came from a place where monsters didn’t bother hiding under beds or behind masks. They wore uniforms. They smiled in broad daylight. And in those years of blood-soaked streets and curfews that fell like iron gates over the city, you learned to be cautious. You learned early what it meant to keep your head down, to lower your gaze when soldiers passed, to hold your tongue and your breath when your father argued with the radio in the kitchen.

Under a dictatorship, there wasn’t a place for soft hearts. You’d watched neighbors disappear. Friends. Family. One by one. Gone in the night or dragged from their homes in daylight with no apology, no explanation. The smell of fear hung thick in the air back then. And you — you had a fire in you that should’ve gotten you killed.

You were young. Brave in the way only the reckless and desperate could be. An activist. A rebel. Smuggling leaflets in your backpack, standing in protests that got washed away in tear gas and batons. And you’d survived. God, you’d survived so much.

You didn’t trust easy. Couldn’t afford to. People smiled and shook your hand with one while holding a knife behind their back with the other. It was just how it was. And yet — Gabriel happened.

Gabriel with his easy grin and the way he lied about freedom like it wasn’t some unreachable star. Gabriel who made you laugh in places laughter wasn’t supposed to exist. He slipped past your walls. You fell in love with him the way you fall asleep after too many sleepless nights, fast, desperate, and without meaning to.

You trusted him. God, you trusted him.

And it cost you everything.

In the days leading up to what happened, you’d felt the old warning bells clanging somewhere deep in your chest, but you silenced them. You told yourself you were being paranoid. You believed him when he said you were safe. That he loved you.

But men like him… they don’t love. They own. They devour.

And now, here you were. In a hospital room, bruised and broken. The pain wasn’t just in your body, it was in your soul. In the realization that even after everything you’d survived, it was him — the one you let in — who almost killed you.

The room was too clean. Too quiet. You could almost hear your own voices screaming your name, pleading for a tiny bit of strong, a one more minute of fighting.

You could feel the way your eyes stung by tears that you didn’t allow to stream down your face. You tried to look everywhere but the man who was too close to you.

The pale blue walls, a thin paper sheet stretched over a narrow exam bed. The tray of instruments on the counter, catching the overhead light in tiny sharp flashes. You sat on the edge of the bed, your legs dangling, But the weight of Gabriel’s stare pressed against your skin like his own hand around your throat.

You couldn’t bear to meet his eyes.

The nurse, a woman in her mid-thirties with kind, tired features, was trying to get you comfortable, fussing with the pillows behind you, adjusting the flimsy hospital gown over your shoulder.

“Sweetheart, you okay?” she asked gently, crouching a little to meet your gaze.

You opened your mouth, a flicker of something like your voice catching in your throat—

“She’s fine,” Gabriel cut in smoothly, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, a predator lounging in the open. “Just a busted finger. She’s not much of a talker.”

The nurse’s eyes darted between the two of you, catching the tension thick in the air. The bruises. The way your body flinched when he spoke.

“I wasn’t asking you,” the nurse said softly, her voice careful but edged.

Your throat tightened, eyes burning. You wanted to say it. Help me. Don’t leave me alone with him. Get him out. But it was like your tongue had been cut out somewhere along these last five days.

And you hated yourself for it.

Gabriel smiled then, slow and cold. “Ain’t no need for drama. We just wanna get this over with. Don’t we, cariño?”

Your eyes met the nurse’s for a split second — a flicker, a desperate pulse of please. And whether she saw it or not, she gave a small nod and stood.

“I’ll get the doctor,” she said quickly, shooting one last glance at Gabriel before leaving the room.

The door clicked shut.

You could feel him behind you without looking. Could feel his eyes on your face. Could feel the ghost of his hand tightening on your broken finger days ago.

“You always were good at getting people to care,” he murmured, taking a slow step closer. “But it doesn’t matter. You won’t leave me again to drown on my own. Not this time.”

And something in you, even as your body trembled, screamed against it.

“Estoy harta de ti,” (I’m sick of you) you gritted, voice low but shaking with the weight of every second you’d swallowed your rage.

Gabriel froze mid-step.

But you didn’t stop.

“Estoy harta que estés en cada lugar que veo.” (I’m sick of you being everywhere I look at) Your chest rose and fell with the effort it took to speak, to push the words past your fear. “No soporto tu cara. Quiero que te vayas y me dejes.” (I’m sick of your face. I want you gone. I want you to leave me.)

For a moment, it was silent.

No smirk. Not a clever remark from him.

Just the raw, stunned stillness of a man who thought he still had control, watching it slip between his fingers like smoke.

His eyes narrowed, lips parting like he might say something cruel, something to reestablish the grip he’d had on you for five long, hellish days — but you didn’t give him the chance.

You stood, even if your knees trembled, even if your heart was a hammer in your chest. You stood because you could. Because defiance, even in whispers, was still power. “Look at me.” you added, this time in English. “You could have killed my friends, my family and you could kill me at this very same moment, but that won’t erase your pathetic little life because that’s what you are. A fucking nobody, you will die and be forgotten.”

The words tasted like blood and salt on your tongue, but you didn’t stop.

“Look at me.” Your voice was raw, a scrape of glass against the quiet room. “You could’ve killed my friends. You could’ve killed my family. You could kill me right here, right now — but it won’t mean a thing. It won’t fix you. It won’t make you matter.”

Gabriel’s jaw clenched, a darkening flicker in his eyes — but no clever words came. No sharp reply. Because you’d carved through whatever twisted power, he thought he still held.

“That’s what you are,” you whispered, your voice trembling but sure enough, “A fucking nobody. A bitter, useless coward clinging to the scraps of a life no one’s ever going to remember and if somebody does, you will remember as fucking murderer just as the rest of them.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, fists curling at his sides, his breathing uneven.

And for the first time, you saw him breaking.

You were tearing down, “Your uniform wasn’t worth it. Hell, even your family must despise you. I do despise you, and I will do it until the day I die.”

Gabriel’s face twisted, something feral and cracked in his eyes as you spoke, as you stripped him down to the nothing he’d always feared he was.

“You shut your fucking mouth—”

“Or what?!” you challenged him, after all there was nothing else for you to lose.

And then his hand was on your throat. Fast. Brutal. Crushing.

The air vanished from your lungs in an instant. Your hands clawed at his wrist, nails digging, your broken finger screamed in pain but it didn’t matter. You could feel yourself slipping, the edges of the world blurring, your heartbeat pounding louder and louder in your ears until it wasn’t a sound anymore but a dull, distant thrum.

And you saw it — not rage. Not hate in his eyes but fear.

He was scared. Frightened of you. Of the truth you could see. Of the fact you weren’t even afraid of him anymore.

But your vision dimmed, your body going slack—Memories of your life, of the happy short moments…

Until a pair of hands wrenched him off you.

“Get your hands off her!” Your recognized Carmen’s voice tearing through the suffocating haze, hoarse and furious.

The world spun as you collapsed to the floor, gulping air like it was the only thing keeping you tethered to your own body. You heard shouting. The doctor’s voice. The nurse. And then boots, heavy.

Two police officers pinned Gabriel against the wall, one of them snarling warnings you could barely register over the hammering in your skull.

“Cuff him! Now!”

Carmen was on her knees in front of you, hands trembling as she cupped your face, brushing the hair from your sweat-soaked skin. Her eyes were glassy, filled with so much rage and grief it nearly undid you.

“I’m here, mi estrellita,” she choked. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Your chest heaved, throat raw, tears breaking free as the air finally reached your lungs.

“I—” you tried to speak, to tell her you thought you were going to die, that you were so fucking tired, but no words came. Only a wrecked, broken sob.

Carmen pulled you into her arms, holding you like she could put your pieces back together just by sheer force of will.

“Shh, you’re safe. He’s done. He’s done.”

And somewhere in the storm of it, you realized Gabriel’s voice was gone.

And you breathe because he would never touch you again.

You buried your face in Carmen’s shoulder, the scent of her hair, a mix cigarettes and lavender lotion — hitting you like a memory you didn’t know you still had room for. The moment her arms wrapped tighter around you, the damn broke.

The sobs came hard. Ugly. Shaking your whole body. The kind of crying that came from somewhere so deep inside, you weren’t sure you’d ever really stop. You clung to her like she was the only thing anchoring you to this world, your hands fisting in the fabric of her jacket.

“I thought—” you gasped between ragged breaths, voice cracking, “I thought I was gonna die… Carmen, I—I couldn’t—”

“I know, Estrellita.” she whispered, rocking you gently like you were a child again. “I know. I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Her hand smoothed over your hair, her own tears falling into the crook of your neck. The world around you — the bright lights, the shouting officers— faded to the background. It was just her and the sound of your crying.

Your throat was raw, every breath a jagged thing, but you couldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop clinging to Carmen like if you let go, you’d disappear, like the weight of the last five days would swallow you whole. Her fingers trembled as they ran through your hair, as she whispered soft, broken words in your ear.

I’ve got you, you’re safe now, you’re safe, you’re safe.

But somewhere beneath the wreckage of your heart, past the terror and grief and bone-deep ache, another name clawed its way to the surface.

You pulled back just enough to speak, your voice barely a whisper, a raw rasp of air and desperation.

“Joel,” you choked out, eyes bleary, still pouring tears. “Carmen—where’s Joel? Is he… is he okay?”

The words hurt to say, like speaking them might shatter what little was left of you if the answer wasn’t the one you needed.

Carmen’s face crumpled, her lips pressing together, fresh tears shining in her lashes. She cupped your cheek, brushing the damp hair from your face. She couldn’t believe that after he had done, you still had the heart to worry about him.

“He’s okay,” she murmured, her voice breaking. “He is well and alive.”

A new, ragged sob burst out of you, part grief, part relief, part everything you hadn’t been allowed to feel. You collapsed into her arms again, your fingers tightening in her jacket, the world spinning and tilting.

“I need—” you stammered, barely able to breathe. “I need…. please, Carmen, I need to—”

“I know, sweetheart,” she whispered, kissing your temple, holding you like she’d never let go out of her sight again.

Your body wouldn’t stop shaking. Even as Carmen whispered to you, even as her hands cradled your face and her lips pressed against your hairline like she could will the terror out of you — your sobs kept coming, violent, sharp, breaking your chest open with every ragged breath.

Your vision blurred, your head spinning, the world tilting as the sobs took you under. The panic clawed higher, your heart racing so fast it felt like it might burst, and you clung to her like you were drowning in a deep ocean.

“I know, Estrellita, I know—” Carmen’s voice cracked, tears running down her own face as she tried to hold you together, but even she could feel it — that your body was giving out, your mind fraying at the edges. “Somebody help her! Please!”

The medics were there in seconds. The nurse from before, her face drawn tight with worry, a syringe trembling in her gloved hand.

“We need to calm her down—” one of them said urgently.

“No—” you gasped, shaking your head, your voice nearly gone. “Please, don’t—I need—”

“I promise, estrellita,” Carmen cupped your face again, forehead against yours. “I won’t leave you. I’ll stay right here. And when you wake up, we’ll go to him, I swear.”

Your body gave one last shudder as the needle pricked your arm, a cool wash of sedation flooding your veins. The sobs dulled into uneven hiccups, your muscles going limp in her arms. The chaos of the hospital room blurred, colors bleeding together.

But even as your vision dimmed, your lips still formed his name.

“Joel…”

The quiet of the hospital at night was a different kind of heavy. The hum of fluorescent lights, the steady beep of heart monitors in distant rooms — it all felt like it existed in some other world, one you weren’t fully tethered to anymore.

Carmen sat alone in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs outside your room, her hands wrung raw, her eyes rimmed red. She hadn’t left. Not once. She hadn’t gone down the hall to see Joel, hadn’t let herself face what state he might be in. Not when you were like this. Not when the memory of Gabriel’s hands around your throat still ghosted against your skin.

When the elevator doors opened, she didn’t look up at first. But she knew those boots. That voice.

“Carmen,” Billy’s voice was low, urgent, his face lined and pale beneath the harsh hospital lights.

She stood up so fast the chair scraped loudly against the tile. “Thank God,” she breathed, and before she could stop herself, she was in his arms.

Billy held her tight, one hand cradling the back of her head, his chest solid and familiar. “I came as soon as you called,” he murmured into her hair.

“I didn’t know who else—” her voice cracked. “I didn’t know what to do, Billy.”

“It’s okay, you did good,” he said, pulling back to look at her face. “Where is she?”

“In there. They sedated her… she wouldn’t stop crying. She was… she was barely breathing, Billy. I thought—” Carmen swallowed hard, shaking her head. “I thought we were gonna lose her.” She stopped for a moment, “That asshole was chocking her.”

Billy gasped at the thought of you, “How did you know she was here?”

“I didn’t. I promised Joel I was going to go back later and I saw her talking to a nurse…”

“Joel?”

“Come on, calling him father seems really unholy.”

Billy let out a sharp, disbelieving breath, half a huff of a laugh despite the weight in his chest. “Jesus, Carm…” he muttered, running a hand down his face. “Of all the goddamn hospitals.”

She gave a broken, crooked smile. “I know.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The hallway stretched out quiet around them, only the distant beeping of monitors and the occasional murmur of nurses passing by. The kind of stillness where too much had already happened, and more was still waiting.

“She was asking for him, you know,” Carmen said softly, eyes shining again, staring down the hall like she could see through the walls, to Joel’s room. “Even when she couldn’t breathe… even when her face was turning blue… she was still worried about him.”

Billy’s throat tightened at that, his gut twisting. He looked through the window into your room — your small, still form against too-white sheets. “We should’ve protected her better,” he muttered. “We should’ve—”

“Stop,” Carmen cut him off gently but firmly, reaching out to grab his wrist. “We didn’t know he was going to do that.”

He swallowed hard, and after a beat, nodded. “I’ll sit with her,” he said quietly. “I’ll be here if she wakes up soon”

Carmen gave him a grateful, weary look and squeezed his arm. “Okay, the doctor said she would sleep for hours though, but I don’t want her alone.” she whispered, turning to go.

She made it two steps before stopping again, Billy’s voice low but fierce. “Tell Joel she is here. But tell him she didn’t need him to save herself.”

She nodded, and with that, Carmen turned and finally made herself walk down that long hallway toward Joel’s room, her pulse a storm in her throat, a hundred what-ifs chasing her with every step.

The door to Joel’s room creaked as Carmen pushed it open, the soft glow of a bedside lamp washing over his face. He was half-sitting against the pillows, an IV line in his arm, his skin pale and drawn but his eyes, those tired, familiar, stubborn eyes, were open.

He looked up when the door opened, and the moment his gaze landed on her, something in his face shifted. A flicker of relief, of dread, of some unspoken, as if he deep-down knew you were okay.

“Carmen,” he rasped, his voice raw like he hadn’t spoken in hours.

She closed the door behind her, leaning against it for a second like she needed the support. Her throat tightened, and it took everything she had to stay steady.

“She’s here, Joel,” Carmen whispered, her voice breaking on the words.

His eyes went wide. The breath left his lungs like a punch.

“Where?” His voice cracked.

Carmen’s lips trembled, and she crossed the room in three steps, siting in a chair beside his bed, “She’s down the hall. Room fourteen. The bastard got her during these past five days… she was with him. And she—” Carmen had to stop, swallowing back the sob. “She fought him. She was asking for you. Couldn’t even breathe but she still asked for you, can you believe it?”

Joel’s head dropped back against the pillow, a tear slipping down his cheek. His hand gripped the sheets so tight it hurt. “Is she… is she okay?”

“They sedated her,” Carmen whispered. “She wouldn’t stop crying. She… was a mess.”

Joel’s face crumpled then, his whole body shuddering with a silent sob. “Goddamn it,” he choked out.

Joel’s breath came in short, uneven bursts, chest rising and falling as though the weight of those five days had just crushed down on him in full. His knuckles went white where they gripped the sheets, his throat working around the thick lump there.

“I gotta see her,” he managed, voice rough and breaking. “Carmen — I need to see her.”

But Carmen’s hand shot out, pressing firmly to his chest, keeping him where he was. Her eyes were sharp now, her jaw clenched. The grief was still there, but fury — clean and bright — licked at the edges of her words.

“Not yet,” she snapped. “I’ve been really goddamn nice to you because of her. But don’t get it twisted, Joel. All this… this hell she’s been through, it happened because of you.”

His face twisted, stricken. “Carmen, I didn’t—”

“Maybe you didn’t mean to,” she cut him off, voice tight, trembling. “But you left the fucking door open. You let that piece of take her, and you didn’t see it coming. And now she’s passed out in a hospital bed because of it. You don’t get to just go in there like some goddamn savior and make it right.”

Joel closed his eyes, a tear tracking down the side of his face.

“You will stay here,” Carmen said, steel in every word. “And you will wait. Until I say it’s time. Because we still don’t know what the hell happened during those five days, and I won’t let you hurt her again — even if you don’t mean to.”

She watched him for a moment, waiting for him to fight back, to argue like he always did. But he didn’t. He just nodded, broken, his voice barely a whisper when he asked,

“Is she alone?”

Carmen’s jaw flexed, softening a little.

“No,” she said quietly. “Billy’s with her.”

Joel gave a faint, shuddering breath, like some part of him unclenched at the thought.

“Good,” he murmured. “Good… she shouldn’t be alone.”

Carmen’s throat bobbed as she stood from the chair. “I’ll let you know when you can see her,” she said, softer now, though the edge of warning hadn’t left her voice. “And Joel… you better pray she makes it out of this whole.”

He didn’t look up as she left, but the tears wouldn’t stop falling.

All of this was because he had let his jealousy break the best thing he had ever come to see in his life.

The room was dim, the harsh glare of hospital lights softened by the hour. The steady beep of the heart monitor was the only sound for a while, save for the quiet, tired murmur of Carmen and Billy talking in low voices by the window.

You stirred — just barely — a soft, broken sound leaving your lips as your lashes fluttered. The weight of your own body felt foreign. Heavy. Like gravity had tripled its hold on you. Every breath scraped your throat raw. Your chest ached, your hands ached, your goddamn soul ached.

Carmen was on you in a second.

“Hey, hey—” she whispered, her voice already breaking. “Baby, you’re okay. You’re safe. I swear to God, you’re safe.”

Billy was there too, his face pale and drawn, but his hand reached for yours like he’d been waiting for the smallest sign of life.

The moment your eyes cracked open, blurry and stinging; a tear slid down your temple. Then another. And another. It was like your body remembered before your mind did — remembered the hands at your throat, the words, the terror that felt like it would never end.

Your breath came in short, shallow bursts, your whole-body trembling. “I—” you tried, but your throat felt like sandpaper, every word scraping on the way out. “Hurts…”

“I know,” Carmen whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed, brushing sweaty hair back from your forehead. Her hand trembled against your skin. “I know, baby. God, I’m so sorry.”

Billy squeezed your hand, his jaw clenched tight, eyes glassy. “You’re safe now, sweetheart. We got you.”

But nothing about you felt safe. Not your skin, not your bones, not your memories. It felt like you’d left pieces of yourself behind in that room and nothing would ever quite fit right again.

Your body shook harder, a sob hitching in your chest, and Carmen gathered you up against her carefully, mindful of the IV line. She cradled you like you were a small little girl waking up from a nightmare.

"My family is dead" you confessed in a whisper, trying to get used to the idea you would never be with them again.

Carmen’s breath hitched in her throat at your words — a soft, broken confession spoken like a child admitting a secret no one else could fix. You felt her arms tighten around you, her palm smoothing down your hair, a tremor running through her hand.

“Oh, mi Estrellita” she whispered, voice cracking like glass underweight.

Billy turned away, one hand covering his mouth, his shoulders stiff with the effort to keep it together. The room felt smaller, heavier. The air thick with grief too big to name, the kind that clung to your skin and made your chest feel like it was caving in.

You swallowed, your throat raw and aching, your face pressed against Carmen’s shoulder. “They’re gone….and I wasn’t there. I didn’t… I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

A sob ripped from your chest before you could stop it, and Carmen held you tighter like she could keep you from shattering. “They knew you loved them,” she murmured fiercely into your hair. “They knew. And if there’s a goddamn heaven, they’re watching’ over you right now, baby. I swear it.”

But the hole inside you stayed. A dark, gnawing thing that no words could fill.

Your voice came again, small and wrecked. “They were killed because they carried my last name and I don’t know how to live with that weight on me.”

Carmen’s whole body tensed around you, like your words cut through her, sharp and merciless. She pulled back just enough to cup your face in both trembling hands, forcing you — gently— to meet her eyes, even as your tears blurred everything between you.

“No,” she said, voice thick, breaking on the word. “No, baby, listen to me. This isn’t your weight to carry. Do you hear me? This wasn’t your fault. Those pieces of shit made a choice — their choice. Not yours. Not theirs.”

Your lips quivered, your breath shuddering as you struggled to hold onto her gaze, the raw grief in your chest threatening to drown you. “If I wasn’t— if I hadn’t been born into this family, they’d still be—”

“Stop.” Carmen’s voice cracked like a whip, sharp and soft at once. “You are not a curse. You are not a burden. You didn’t pull the trigger. You didn’t give the order. You are not to blame for a monster’s sins.”

Billy swallowed hard; his voice rough when he finally spoke. “If anythin’, you’re the reason many people are alive. If you weren’t there, if you hadn’t fought as you did, there would be more people dead—Don’t you dare think for a second this blood is on you.”

You felt your whole-body collapse inward then, a broken sob leaving you as Carmen pressed your forehead to hers, her thumbs brushing your wet cheeks.

“Gabriel?” you asked Carmen.

“He is in custody” Carmen went on, her voice shaking but controlled, “left bruising on your throat… and God knows what else those five days did to you. But he’s done. He’s not getting near you again. I swear it.”

You saw it then, the fire behind her eyes. The barely leashed fury. Carmen had always been a force of nature when it came to protecting the people she loved, and right now you were all that mattered to her.

“He’s going away for the rest of his miserable fucking life,” she added, her thumb brushing a tear from your cheek. “He will be in prison soon and he will face charges.”

Billy gave a rough nod beside her. “I already made a few calls,” he said hoarsely.

“Good.” You said, simply as if you still couldn’t believe it. “But prison but time will be enough for him to pay for everything he had done.”

You tried to swallow, the pain in your throat a sharp reminder of the hands that had been there, of the helplessness. Of what it meant to survive it. Your chest ached, not just from the bruises and the brokenness of your body, but from the weight of the grief still coiled inside you.

“You need to rest. You don’t owe him a goddamn thing until you’re ready, you hear me?”

Billy squeezed your hand. “We’ll stay right here. As long as it takes.”

The pain meds from the hospital, the exhaustion of five days spent in terror, and the sheer grief weighing down your bones — it had all pulled you under like a tide. The last thing you remembered was the nurse gently resetting your finger, the cold of the hospital room, and Gabriel’s sharp voice on the phone outside.

You hadn’t known Joel was there. Carmen neither Billy had told you that.

And Joel’s leg screamed with every step — the stitches pulling, the bone-deep ache of healing wounds making his vision swim. But none of it mattered. Not the pain, not Carmen’s warnings, not the fury in her eyes when she’d told him to stay away.

Because you were here. And he needed to see you like he needed air in his lungs.

He leaned heavily on the wall as he made his way down the hall, sweat slick on his brow, heart pounding against his ribs like it was trying to break free. The world blurred at the edges, the sterile hospital lights too bright, the antiseptic stench thick in the back of his throat.

When he reached your door — Room Fourteen — his hand trembled on the handle. He didn’t knock. Didn’t hesitate. He opened the door.

The sight of you hit him like a goddamn freight train.

You were asleep, small and broken in the hospital bed. The bruising on your throat stark against your skin, your face pale, a faint frown still etched in your sleep. His chest constricted, a sob catching in his throat before he could stop it.

Carmen was sitting in the chair beside you, her head leaning back against the wall, exhaustion etched deep in her face. The second she saw him, her expression crumpled — like something she’d been holding together for too long finally cracked wide open.

“Joel,” she breathed, her voice barely a sound.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t offer an apology she wouldn’t accept or a promise he knew would fall short. He just stood there for a moment, swallowing against the tight, burning ache in his throat, watching your chest rise and fall.

Carmen shot to her feet then, her body tense, a thousand words written in her tear-filled eyes.

“You weren’t supposed to come in here,” she whispered, voice shaking. “I told you to wait. You don’t get to just —”

“I need to see her,” Joel rasped, his voice thick, ruined. “I need… I need to know she is fine.”

Carmen’s jaw clenched, tears welling. She looked at you, so small in that bed, and her shoulders dropped, her face breaking again. She hated him for what had happened. For what his mistakes had set in motion. But even now, she knew you. She knew how deep he ran in your blood and bones.

“She doesn’t need more pain, Joel,” Carmen whispered, her voice hoarse. “If you’re gonna do anything — anything at all —

His hand hovered above yours for a second before pulling back.

“Can I have a moment alone with her?”

Carmen hesitated for a moment, but the heart in her gave up and she ended up nodding, “Okay. I will be outside. If you make her cry I will punch in the face, do you hear me father?”

Joel simply nodded, waiting for her to get out of the room. And when she did his heart was in his throat as he saw you there, so small in that hospital bed, your face turned toward the window. The bruises on your skin, the way your fingers trembled in sleep, it gutted him. He hated himself in a way he hadn’t known was possible. Hated every moment he’d wasted, every jealous word, every time he didn’t tell you the truth.

He didn’t ask for permission.

Didn’t speak.

He just leaned down, breath unsteady, and pressed a kiss to your forehead. His lips lingered longer than they should’ve, pouring every apology, every ounce of love he hadn’t known how to say into that one small, desperate act.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against your skin. “I’m so goddamn sorry, baby.”

And then, your eyes opened.

Soft, dazed, but clear. You looked up and there he was — so close your noses almost brushed, your breaths tangled between you. Those brown eyes weren’t filled with fire anymore. No anger. No resentment. Just aching tenderness and the raw, broken kind of love you could barely survive.

For a second neither of you spoke. The world shrunk to just your faces, your breaths, your eyes searching one another like you both needed to be sure this wasn’t a dream.

“Joel,” you breathed. A word, a plea, a prayer.

His throat worked around a sound, one he choked down because if he spoke now, he’d fall apart.

But his hand cupped your cheek, trembling and rough, and for the first time in five days, you weren’t afraid.

Not of him. Not of anything.

And outside, down the hall, the storm still waited. But for now — for just this moment — you were both here.

Your breath hitched, a sharp, fragile sound in the space between you. Joel’s thumb brushed your cheekbone, careful like you might break under his touch — though you’d been breaking for days, hadn’t you? And still, somehow, you were here.

“You came,” you whispered, voice cracking, disbelief and something dangerously close to hope flickering in your words.

Joel’s eyes shut for a moment, as if the sound of your voice hurt. “Course I did,” he rasped, voice thick and low. “I should’ve sooner. I—I fucked up.”

The tremble in his words split something open in you, a sob caught halfway in your throat. You swallowed hard, trying to speak around the ache. “I thought you hated me.”

His head shook before you even finished the words. “Never. God, no.”

He leaned his forehead against yours, his hand cradling your face like you were something sacred and fragile at once. “I was stupid. I let… I let that jealousy and anger get between us. I let my head lie to me. But I never stopped… I never stopped loving you, not for a second.”

Your lips parted, a tear sliding down your temple. Joel caught it with his thumb.

“I thought you were going to die,” you admitted, voice barely a whisper, breaking in the middle. “And you weren’t… you weren’t there and I thought I was alone, Joel. I thought I was dying out there.”

His jaw clenched so hard you felt it against your cheek. “I know, baby. I know. And I’m gonna fix it. I swear to God; I’ll make it right. Whatever it takes. I’ll tear the whole town apart if I have to, you hear me?”

You closed your eyes against the wave of emotion, feeling his breath against your lips. “I’m so scared.”

“Not anymore,” Joel promised. His hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you closer until your foreheads pressed together. “Ain’t nobody gonna hurt you again. Not him. Not anybody. You’re mine, sweetheart. Always have been.”

And God help you, despite everything, despite the fear still clawing at your ribs, you believed him because you wanted to let yourself believe you weren’t alone.

The sob that tore from your chest was helpless, raw, like something dug up from a place too deep to ever fully heal. It shook your whole body, and Joel pulled you into him before you could fall apart completely.

His arms wrapped around you like armor, one hand at the back of your head, the other around your waist, holding you so tightly it felt like maybe he could piece you back together just by being close enough.

"I've got you," he murmured into your hair, over and over like a prayer. "You’re safe now. You hear me? You’re safe."

You buried your face against his chest, soaking in the feel of him, the way his shirt smelled like him — sweat, earth, something warm and steady. It was like coming in from the cold after being lost in a storm for days.

"It hurts," you choked out. "Everything hurts, Joel."

His voice cracked. "I know, darlin’. I know it does." He rocked you gently, like you were something breakable in his arms, something worth protecting. His fingers slid softly through your hair, his lips pressing into your temple.

"You don’t have to be strong anymore," he whispered. "Not with me. You can fall apart. I’ll catch every piece."

You clung to him like a lifeline, fists curled into his shirt.

And Joel didn’t flinch. He didn’t pull away. He held you through all of it, silent tears slipping down his own face, his breath shaking.

"I should’ve been there," he whispered once, broken and furious with himself. "I’ll never let anything touch you again."

And in his arms, no matter how much pain still lingered inside you, you were allowing yourself to believe what you knew it was a lie.

Because the kind of love you both shared was the type of love that couldn’t survived the wreckage.

You must’ve fallen asleep in his arms, exhaustion dragging you under like a tide you couldn’t fight. Joel never left, not for a second, holding you until your breathing evened out, his hand resting protectively against the curve of your back as if he let go, you’d disappear.

But morning came anyway.

The weak gray light slipped through the hospital blinds, spilling across the small room, and with it came the ache.

Your eyes opened slow, crusted with salt from the night before. You felt it before you even fully woke — the dampness on your cheeks, the warm trail of tears slipping down to your ears. Your chest clenched, that ugly, hollow ache rising up all over again.

And then you saw him.

Joel was there, sitting in the chair beside your bed, leaning forward, elbows on his knees even when one of them was healing from the shot, his eyes fixed on you like you were the only thing in the world worth looking at. The guilt on his face was bone-deep, and it should’ve meant something. It should’ve comforted you.

But it didn’t.

The memory hit like a blow to the gut.

him giving you back to Gabriel.

Not with a word, but with silence. With jealousy. With cowardice. You remembered the way you’d begged him with your eyes, how you’d prayed for him to fight for you, and how he hadn’t.

You flinched without meaning to, your body tensing, curling inward like a wounded animal.

"Hey, hey," Joel murmured, reaching out — but you shook your head violently, the tears coming harder now, your breath hitching in short, painful sobs.

"Don’t," you croaked, voice barely there.

His face crumpled, a broken, desperate thing. "I know," he said softly, hand retreating, but not leaving. "I know what I did." His voice was so low it was almost a whisper. "I was a fool. I was weak. And you paid for it."

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. The grief and betrayal tangled so thick inside you it felt like you were drowning in it.

"I don’t deserve to be here," he admitted, his throat thick. "But I’ll stay. I’ll stay until you tell me to go."

And God, some broken, stubborn part of you still wanted to reach for him. Still wanted to believe in him. But the hurt was too fresh, too deep.

You turned your face away, more tears sliding down, and Joel just sat there in silence, letting you grieve. Because he knew this wasn’t something an apology could fix.

The minutes stretched long and quiet, broken only by the soft, uneven sound of your breathing. You didn’t have the strength to fight anymore — not him, not yourself, not the memories clawing their way up from the dark. The tears kept coming, hot and relentless, soaking the pillow beneath your head.

Joel didn’t move.

Didn’t try to pull you close. Didn’t reach for your hand.

He just stayed there, sitting in that hard hospital chair like it was his penance, eyes red-rimmed and hollow, watching over you like a man guarding a grave.

"You are right to hate me," he rasped, his voice rough from a night without sleep. "I should’ve never let him take you. Should’ve never turned away. I—" his voice cracked, and he dragged a hand over his face like it hurt to keep talking. "I thought I was doing the right thing by allowing him to get close to you. I didn’t know he was a bad person.”

Your chest tightened. You didn’t want his words, didn’t want his regret. You wanted your family back. You wanted your old life. You wanted what Gabriel had stolen from you.

And maybe… a tiny, broken part of you still wanted Joel.

You clenched your eyes shut, hating yourself for it.

"You don’t have to forgive me," Joel said quietly, leaning forward so his forearms rested on his knees. "Hell, you shouldn’t. I don’t deserve it. But I swear to you — nobody’s gonna lay a hand on you again. Not while I’m still breathing."

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

But the trembling in your shoulders slowed a little. The weight of those words sinking in, despite everything.

And after a long while, when the exhaustion dragged you under again, you didn’t flinch when Joel pulled the scratchy hospital blanket up over your shoulders. You didn’t turn away when the rough calloused tips of his fingers brushed your hair back from your face.

He stayed.

The next time you woke, the room was quieter than you remembered. No distant footsteps, no beeping monitors, just the steady, familiar sound of Joel’s breathing beside you. He hadn’t left. He was still there, one hand loosely holding yours, his thumb tracing absent, broken circles over your skin.

You swallowed hard, your throat raw, your body aching everywhere in ways you didn’t have names for. The weight on your chest felt unbearable, and for the first time in days, maybe longer, the words rose up before you could stop them.

"He told me…" you rasped, voice barely audible. Joel’s head snapped up, his eyes locking onto yours like he wasn’t sure if you were really speaking.

"Gabriel… he told me he was gonna kill me," you continued, staring at the ceiling because you couldn’t quite look at Joel yet. "That I’d outlived my usefulness… that no one was coming for me. Said I was already dead, just didn’t know it yet."

Your voice broke on the last word, and Joel flinched like it physically hit him.

"And my family…" the word felt like glass in your mouth. "They're gone, Joel. He told me what happened. I’ve got no one left. No one in this whole goddamn world."

Your voice gave out then, the tears rising so fast they blurred your vision. You felt them fall sideways down to your ears as you lay there, and this time you couldn’t stop the sound that came from you — a quiet, heartbroken sob that cracked something open in the room.

Joel leaned forward, his face wrecked, eyes glistening. "You got me," he choked out, voice hoarse and uneven. "I know it ain’t worth a damn right now… but you got me. And you always will. I swear to God."

You finally looked at him then, and it wasn’t the Joel you remembered — the one who used to smirk and tease and steal glances like he didn’t mean to. This was a man broken open, raw and aching, carrying every ounce of guilt like a stone in his chest.

You didn’t know if it made you weak or foolish, but some desperate part of you believed him. Because you had nothing else left to believe in.

But reality broke harder.

Your throat burned as another sob clawed its way out of you, your whole-body trembling under the weight of everything you’d carried — everything you were still carrying. You met his eyes, those shattered, pleading eyes, and for a moment, you saw the man you loved in them.

And then you remembered the silence. The betrayal. The way five days had gone by. How jealousy, pride, and his own demons had left you alone in a room with a monster.

“I don’t believe you,” you choked, your voice raw and breaking. The words tasted like blood.

His face crumpled like you’d hit him, his jaw quivering, but you didn’t stop.

“You say I got you? Where the hell were you when I needed you the most? When I was… when he—” your voice cracked, and you covered your face with shaking hands as sobs wrecked you. “I begged for you. I called for you until I couldn’t speak but all this was because of you.”

“I know,” Joel rasped, a tear slipping down his cheek. “God, baby, I know. And I ain’t ever gonna forgive myself for it.”

You dropped your hands just enough to meet his gaze again, your eyes burning.

“I want you out of my life, Joel.” The words felt like a knife in your own chest, but you forced them out.

Joel’s face crumbled, he leaned to touch you, carefully. His touch was soft, trembling, when he brushed the hair from your face. His lips grazed your temple, and you felt it like a brand, like it might scorch what little was left of you.

And you shattered.

“No,” you choked, a sob bursting from your throat. “No—don’t you fucking touch me, Joel.”

Your voice cracked and broke, your chest heaving as you shoved weakly at him. He didn’t pull back, not yet, his forehead pressing to yours like he could will you back to him if he stayed close enough.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice thick and broken.

“Don’t say that,” you hissed, your hands trembling where they gripped the blanket. Your throat ached, your whole body trembling so hard it hurt. “Don’t you fucking say that to me.”

Joel’s jaw clenched, his eyes wet and wrecked. “I love you.”

That was it. That was the last thread, the last brittle, frayed string holding your heart together.

“I don’t want you,” you sobbed, shaking your head, the words tearing through you like glass. “I don’t want you in my life, Joel.”

His face crumpled. A tear slipped down his cheek.

“You say you love me?” your voice rose, thick with grief and rage, your hands fisting in the sheets. “You showed me what warm felt like. You made me believe in daylight. And then you left me in the darkest place I’ve ever been. You… you broke me.”

He staggered like you’d struck him. Couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe.

“Loving you hurts, Joel,” you whispered, a sob hitching in your chest. “It hurts so bad I can’t fucking stand it. I can’t breathe with it. And I won’t carry it anymore.”

Joel leaned in one last time, his lips barely brushing your temple. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I’m so goddamn sorry.”

“Get out,” you begged, voice small and wrecked and shaking. “Please, Joel… just go.”

But he still lingered there. His hand lingered a second longer over your face because he knew the moment he pulled away from you he would break.

“I don’t want you!” you sobbed, shaking so hard it rattled the bed. “I don’t fucking want you in my life, Joel. I don’t want to see your face, I don’t want your name in my head—I want you gone. Do you hear me?”

And still, still, he leaned down and pressed another kiss to your temple, one trembling hand holding your face like you were something fragile. “I’ll love you ‘til my last breath,” he murmured against your skin.

“Leave!” you screamed, sobbing so violently the heart monitor started to beep faster. “Get the fuck out of here! Get out!”

Joel's breath hitched, his hand still cradling your face as you sobbed beneath him. He was breaking — shattering right there in front of you, in the dim flicker of the hospital room light.

“I’ll go,” he rasped, voice torn and low. “I’ll go, baby. But listen to me, just this once… one more thing.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, the tears burning so hot they felt like they might scar. “Don’t—” you begged, but he pressed his forehead to yours, and you were too weak to fight it.

“I’ll love you until the stars burn out in the sky, until this world forgets our names, until the sun quits the sky,” Joel whispered, his voice breaking around every word, his thumb trembling against your cheek. “And if it’s the last goddamn thing I do in this life… I’ll find a way to fix what I broke in you.”

Your sob caught, a sharp, painful sound in your throat, because no matter how much you told yourself you didn’t want him, some part of you still did — some part of you always would. And that made it worse. So much worse.

“Please, Joel,” you whispered, your voice splintered glass. “I can’t… I can’t survive loving you.”

He swallowed hard, eyes shining. “I know,” he whispered. “But you’re gonna survive without me. You’re stronger than this hurt. And I swear to you… you’ll find your way back to the light.”

Then, so gently it felt cruel, he pressed one last kiss to your hairline, breathing you in like a dying man.

And he left.

The click of the door behind him felt like a gunshot. And just like that, your heart cracked open all over again.

And then he was out the door.

Carmen stepped back inside the room and gathered you up in seconds, holding you against her as your body heaved with sobs so violent it felt like your heart might stop.

“I’m here,” she whispered, over and over. “I’ve got you. I swear to God, I’ve got you.”

But you couldn’t stop shaking. Couldn’t stop hearing his voice. Couldn’t stop feeling those ghost touches on your skin.

And somewhere deep down, where the blood and the marrow lived, you knew it would never be the same again.

“I will leave this town, Carmen.”

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tinyluvs · 2 years ago

Note

ok so after reading about Spencer’s first blowjob…what do you think about the first time he ever eats out? 👀 man’s all “oh I read about this hold on” like it’s fkin quantum theory and he’s intent on trying all these different “techniques” he’s read about but then he tastes reader for the first time and just goes absolutely feral like a man starved 🫣

i see the vision, i gotchu, enjoy my angel!!! this carries on from !! this prompt !! but you don’t have to read it *mdni!!*

time moves slower as you rest your head on spencer's hip, humming deeply when his fingers press against your scalp, "you okay, angel?" he asks once his post orgasm haze passes, the fog around his brain finally clearing after god only knows how long

"i'm great baby," you reply, lifting your head up to look at him, smiling softly when he traces a knuckle over your cheek bone. he looks at you, thinking, you can practically see cogs turning behind his eyes, "out with it,"

a breath catches in your boyfriend throat, "can i return the favour?" he asks, voice barely a whisper, "please," fingers ghost over your neck, pressing only over your pulse

“spence,” you breathe a little harder, knowing he can feel your heartbeat racing under his fingers, “please, don’t think you have to,”

the insides of your thighs are already damp and sticky, coated with your arousal from your previous activities. you clench slightly, not so subtly rubbing your thighs together

spencer sits up, his head shaking slightly as he does, “no i want to, please honey,” he presses, leaning over your body to kiss the corner of your mouth, “please”

“okay,” you answer simply, words failing you as he uses his body to push against yours, pressing you down into the couch cushions

air gets trapped in between your cheeks, puffed out while you watch your boyfriend hike your shirt up, only enough to expose your stomach and hips before he dips, dragging his lips over your ribs all too slowly

“can i?” he mumbles as he gets to your hips and your head tilts, confusion taking over as you’d been to occupied watching him instead of feeling his fingers teasing at the waistband of your shorts

spencer looks up at you in time to watch you nod, eyes wide and mouth slack, the previously trapped air escaping in a gentle whimper. he lifts your hips slightly, dragging your shorts and panties down your legs, letting them drop onto the floor, out of sight

“hey, are you sure?” you ask again, knuckle hooking under his chin to turn his attention to you. he turns in your hold, kissing your palm before sliding further down between your legs

big hands slide up the back of your thighs, blunt nails barely digging into your skin as he pushes your legs apart, spreading you open inches away from his face

spencer's tongue darts across his bottom lip, his gaze focused on where you're already wet, "i, uhm," he whispers, "read about how to do this,"

you can tell he's nervous, a slight frown forming over his forehead though it doesn't stick around when you smooth over it gently with your thumb, "you read about it? angel, it's okay if you don't get it right straight away" you assure him as he looks up at you briefly

the anticipation is killing you, though you'd never tell him. having him between your thighs, eyes dark while he takes the situation and you in, has you dripping, a soft whine passing your lips as you feel it happen

your boyfriend snaps out of his state of staring at the noise, he sighs gently, happily, before surging forwards. immediately your back arches off of the couch as his lips press against your folds

"fuck, spence," you gasp, fingers tangling into his hair to hold him there. he parts his lips before dragging his tongue up your centre, circling cruelly around your clit, "oh my god," you moan, loudly

this spurs spencer on further, his body pushes up further between your legs, his broad shoulders holding your thighs apart while he eats you out like a starved man, his eyes shut, lashes tickling his cheeks

distantly you wonder if he has done this before but your ability to think leaves you and makes you helpless and completely at spencer's mercy. he pulls away from you, barely, a string of spit connecting him to your cunt.

while he uses his shoulders to keep your thighs spread, his hands become free and you feel them before you see them. his thumb dips over your sticky hole before sliding upwards, bumping against your clit

"please baby, don't tease," you whine, chest heaving and fingers tightening in his hair, pulling him back towards where you need him and he obliges, leaning in to kiss your clit before sucking on it lightly

every moan, whine and whimper that leaves your body has spencer working harder, spit dribbling from the corners of his mouth and over the inside of your thighs as he starts to hum and moan against you

spencer sucks hard on your clit, obscene noises fill the room as he leans into you, one hand on your hip holding you down and the other stroking your thigh, moving far too slowly towards your cunt

you hold your breath, feeling his fingers tease at you, your attempts to clench around the tips of his fingers don't go unnoticed. he gives you what you want slowly, barely pressing a finger into you before pulling away again

"oh god," you whimper, hips rolling underneath his forearm. spencer hums against you, sending vibrations rumbling over your clit , "this is your first time?" you question as your thighs start to shake

"yeah," spencer replies, taking a break to breathe, his eyes focused on his own fingers. without warning he presses a finger into you, his gaze traveling up your body as you cry out and clench around him

"fuck, i'm not going to last," you pant whilst throwing your head back. your nails dig into his shoulder, guiding him back towards your body as heat starts to form in the pits of your stomach

slowly spencer fucks his finger into you, pulling out and pushing back in before adding another, again, without warning. the stretch burns in the best way possible as he works you open

"i love you," spencer mumbles, not giving you a chance to reply as he delves back into you, his tongue lapping over your clit with earnest. your orgasm builds embarrassingly fast, thighs shaking, back arching away from the couch while your brain turns to mush

"oh, fuck, i'm gonna-," you cry out, letting your thighs close around spencer's body, "i'm gonna come baby," you whimper loudly, stomach clenching underneath spencer's arm

he doubles down, fingers speeding up slightly, his knuckles bumping either side of your hole as wet, sticky sounds fill the room, "uh huh," he hums against you and that sends you hurtling over the edge

you come hard, harder than you ever have before, loudly whimpering as your body shakes and your thighs close around spencer's head, trapping him there while you pant, eyes clamped shut

"baby, stop," you almost cry, pulling on spencer's hair to move him away from your body as you start to get overstimulated, "jesus,"

spencer looks incredible, his hair tousled and messy, lips and chin completely soaked with your slick and his cheeks puffed out as he catches his own breath. gently, he slips his fingers from your body, smiling softly to himself as you wrap your own around his wrist

"c'mere," you hum, eyes shutting again as you yank on him, his body toppling down onto of you, his head resting on your chest, "seriously though, that was your first time?"

"yeah," spencer chuckles, his fingers trailing up your rib cage, “definitely won't be the last though,"

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily !! send prompts to my ask box!

❥ spencer reid masterlist !!

a/n tell me if you see any mistakes, i proofread but really fuckin badly !! much appreciated and hope ur having a great day, mwah

#❥ my works #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #❥ my spencer works #❥ spencer reid #❥ spencer reid fic rec #❥ spencer reid drabbles

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diamonddeputy · 22 days ago

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Why [DELTARUNE CHAPTER 4 SPOILERS] is an effective villain: a premature analysis

Y’all I’m literally posting this and then disappearing from the Internet for however long to avoid the spoiler brigade. I haven’t even finished Chapter 4 yet, there could be more I don’t even know. I just cannot sleep and am so wracked with autistic mania that I HAVE to get my thoughts in order or I will explode

Character creation and analysis have always been some of my greatest passions. I still have my Ceroba Ketsukane analysis sitting on the backburner, 24 pages and counting, that exists purely for my own enjoyment. Storytelling fundamentals are things I keep in mind for everything I consume, especially in the context of characters. That being said, known character development strategies can be attributed to Carol Holiday, and why she works SO WELL as a villain imo

Back when J.K. Rowling wasn’t a piece of shit, I watched an interesting video commenting on how Voldemort could have been made more effective as a villain. Which essentially compared him to Umbridge who usually provokes more vitriol within the community and pitched the idea of him casting some sort of life-altering spell on Hermione. I can’t remember the exact details, but it was something to the effect of memory alteration or brain function suppression, to take away the one thing that mattered most to her in life, which was her academic success and pursuit of knowledge, which we see her strive so passionately for throughout the whole series. And then the reader would have to watch her slog through life with no sense of purpose, a husk of her former self, and allow that rage to fester. He then tied this back to why Umbridge is remembered (ironically, less) fondly, because the slights she commits are targeted specifically on known flaws and vulnerabilities of the main characters

It’s something that I’ve carried with me since because it really does make sense if you stop and think about it. Being like 13 at the time I initially clicked on that video with more curiosity than anything because I thought he worked pretty effectively. But by the end I was like holy shit yeah that would’ve worked SO much better. And the more I think about it, the more it’s really on full display here

The reveal that Carol is a central antagonist made me feel things, sure, but the thing that REALLY got me was seeing her for the first time, even before we knew just how connected she was. When Susie commented on the temperature seeming to fall when she entered, I FELT that. Because the previous chapters made SUCH a big deal about NEVER letting us see her. She was always cooped up in her office with hordes of cronies blocking any entrances commenting on how busy she is, even when confronted with our teenaged protagonist wishing to report a serious danger that not even the police is taking seriously. Within our centralized view, that paints a cold, scheming picture right off the bat

We were given ample time to create a caricature in our minds, shaping itself to whatever bounds it would allow itself to stretch. This is a common practice seen in comic book theory, with the idea that a scene that takes place in a gutter (the space between panels, or in other words, not shown) is infinitely more shocking, gruesome, terrifying, whatever you want it to be than anything that could be shown. Because it allows the viewer to fill in the blanks for themselves, and the human mind has the tendency to jump to the very worst. So seeing her pale fur, sunken eyes, stony glare, frigid colour palette, just HIT because it reinforced EVERYTHING that had been festering in our minds for the past however long. For me, it’s barely even been a year. I can’t even begin to imagine those who have been holding it for upwards of six

We’re already starting off with a bang, but the fact she’s so mysterious is then just used to make the small things we DO learn about her even MORE effective. Noelle is scared to tell her she’s locked out of the house. She doesn’t keep keys of important documents anywhere but home. Rudy is spending what could be his last moments terrified of what will happen to Noelle after he isn’t there to “balance Carol out”, in his words. Noelle explains the feeling of seeking out things that scare her just so she can feel comforted. Speaking as someone else with a poor emotional relationship with her parents, the portrayal of Carol as such is not only harrowing, but very REAL. It’s severe enough to push all the right buttons, but not SO much so that she becomes harder to take seriously because a sense of immersion is lost. THAT is just as important, and it’s what really sells the effectiveness

The fact she wants to bring calamity upon the world is awful, sure. But that’s not why I hate her. I hate her because she’s a shitty mother. I hate her because Noelle has gone through so much because of her. And most of all, I hate her because of the implication that she’s using Dess to get her way, if I’m not going batshit crazy and Dess is the Roaring Knight like is seeming to be implied. Hell, she may have even staged her disappearance to be rid of her, as we know Dess wanted to leave home as soon as possible and take Noelle with her, and also that she was a contrarian to her mother’s strict beliefs and did things she never would have approved of. The reveal that, in her words, “I am always welcome in her home” would only have ever intrigued me if I didn’t know what I do about her. Perhaps she has more sympathetic motives than are being shown to me presently! But because these careful steps were taken to establish her not only as an antagonist, but as a VILLAIN, I felt pure unadulterated disgust. And the desire to be anywhere else and do anything else and listen to anyone else and never do what she wants me to do ever

What truly makes a good villain is the combination between narrative stakes and personal investment. And, more importantly than that, the effort to make it believably, groundely REAL, as opposed to overly blunt or performative. I’ve hated Carol from literally Chapter 1, assuming that she was gonna be an invisible driving force for Noelle’s character development and not much more, and now I just have a vessel to fuel all that rage into because the careful work behind the curtain is being unveiled masterfully. The fact there’s even more to know upcoming has my head spinning because I’m already reeling from just how much I HATE Carol, and just how GOOD that is for the story

If you’ve somehow survived my word salad the size of Mars, please please please leave tour thoughts or whatever else. I’ll see it when I eventually finish everything

#deltarune #deltarune chapter four #deltarune chapter 4 #deltarune chapter 4 spoilers #character analysis #rant post #sleep deprived af #villain analysis #storytelling #not proofread #carol holiday #noelle deltarune #noelle holiday #noelle dr #december holiday #dess holiday #dess deltarune

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odileeclipse · 3 months ago

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In the Presence of Truth {"Sage of Truth" (SMC) x Reader} PT 10

<<<Previous Next>>>

A/N Early updates are NEVER happening again/j because I just lost a GAJILLION aura uploading the WRONG CHAPTER. anyways my meeting got cancelled so I worked on this instead <3

“You’re absolutely brilliant, you’re good at what you do.” Shadow Milk Cookie raised a brow, but there was a certain satisfaction in his expression, subtle yet undeniable. “If I have managed to make you understand, then the credit lies with your own efforts,” he said smoothly. You shook your head, your grin unwavering. “No way. You’re amazing if you were able to get me to understand this.” You tapped your notebook for emphasis. “I mean, come on, you saw how bad I was at this before.” His golden eyes gleamed with something unreadable, but his tone remained even. “A willingness to learn will always yield results.” You let out a breathy laugh. “Maybe, but let’s be real if I was learning this on my own, it would’ve taken me three times as long. If not longer.” You leaned forward slightly, propping your elbows on the desk. “So yeah, you’re amazing, Sage of Truth. There’s no arguing that.” He tilted his head, and for a moment, you thought he might try. But instead, he merely regarded you with quiet amusement before finally speaking. “I see you are not above using flattery to smooth your path.” You gasped, clutching your chest dramatically. “Me? Flattering you? I would never.” Shadow Milk Cookie gave a slow blink. “Mm.” You laughed again, the sound spilling out before you could stop it. There was something so genuinely fulfilling about the moment. About the fact that, just this once, there were no corrections, no mistakes, only the confirmation that you had done something right. Still smiling, you glanced at his desk. “Do you have the notes for today’s lecture? I want to go over them while I have the chance.” His expression shifted, the faintest hint of approval lingering. “You wish to review so soon?” “Well, yeah. I mean, I’ve got you here, don’t I? No sense wasting the opportunity.” He regarded you for a moment longer before giving a small nod. “Very well.” With a practiced motion, he reached for a neatly stacked set of parchment and slid them toward you. As you took them, you couldn’t help but feel the warmth in your chest the quiet contentment of knowing that, at least for now, you had a place here.

Shadow Milk Cookie had barely set his quill down before you launched into your first question, your voice filled with determination. “Okay, so this part here” you tapped at a particularly dense paragraph in the notes, “I think I get what Professor Almond Custard was saying, but can you explain it in a different way? Because I feel like I’m missing something.” His golden eyes flickered toward the passage, and with a small hum, he leaned back slightly. “This concept hinges on the foundational principle we discussed last week. Recall the framework of magical equilibrium-” You furrowed your brows. “Right, but how does that connect to this specific theory?” And just like that, the questions kept coming. Each time he answered, you found yourself grasping onto something new, yet more uncertainties bubbled up in their place. You weren’t holding back today, determined to leave with no gaps in your understanding. Shadow Milk Cookie, ever patient, answered each one with unwavering precision. He never grew frustrated, never sighed in exasperation. If anything, there was a gleam in his eye that told you he welcomed this exchange his mind always at ease in the presence of questions, as if they were the lifejam of his existence. After what felt like an eternity, you finally sat back, exhaling deeply. “Okay. I think I got it now.” He regarded you with something almost amused. “A thorough interrogation.” You grinned. “You wouldn’t expect anything less, right?” “Certainly not.” With that settled, you reached into your bag and pulled out a neatly folded paper, sliding it across the desk toward him. “By the way… could you take a quick look at this?” Shadow Milk Cookie lifted the paper with a curious glance. “This is not yours.” You shook your head. “It’s Earl Grey Cookie’s. He, uh… kind of slipped it to me earlier and asked if you could look it over. I think he was too nervous to ask you himself.” His fingers brushed over the parchment as he skimmed the first few lines. “A written report.” “Yeah. He worked really hard on it, and I just… I want him to do well, you know?” You hesitated before adding, “You don’t have to, of course! I know you’re busy, and he didn’t want to impose or anything, but I figured…”

“I will review it.” You blinked. “Wait, really?” Shadow Milk Cookie simply nodded, already flipping through the contents. “If he seeks knowledge, he will receive it.” Something warm settled in your chest. You hadn’t doubted that he’d help, but hearing him say it so simply so naturally made you smile. “You’re the best,” you said before you could stop yourself. He glanced at you briefly, expression unreadable, before returning his focus to the report. “…I am merely doing what is expected of me.” You couldn’t help but think that wasn’t entirely true.

A loud grumble broke the silence. You froze. Shadow Milk Cookie, who had been reviewing Earl Grey Cookie’s report, paused mid-turn of the page. His golden eyes flicked toward you, brow slightly raised. “…You have not eaten.” Your face burned. “I…what? No, I mean, maybe, but it’s fine! I just got busy, that’s all.” His gaze lingered, clearly unconvinced. “You should not make a habit of this.” “It’s not a habit!” you protested, though your stomach loudly disagreed. Shadow Milk Cookie exhaled through his nose something bordering on amusement before reaching into one of the many folds of his robes. With practiced ease, he withdrew a small, neatly wrapped package and set it down in front of you. You blinked at it. Then at him. “…You carry snacks?” He inclined his head slightly. “I account for long hours.” Carefully, you unwrapped the package, revealing a small honeyed pastry, still faintly warm. The scent alone made your stomach tighten with renewed hunger. You hesitated for a moment before glancing at him again. “Are you sure? You don’t have to” “I would not have offered if I were not sure.” Fair point. You took a small bite, the sweetness melting across your tongue. “…Thanks,” you murmured, chewing thoughtfully. Then, unable to suppress your curiosity, you asked, “Do you usually eat in your office, then? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in the dining halls often.” “I dine when it suits my schedule,” he replied simply. You squinted at him. “That doesn’t really answer my question.” A faint, knowing glint flickered in his eyes. “I do not often require the communal setting.” “So you eat alone.” “On occasion.” You huffed, taking another bite of the pastry. “You’re really not one for straight answers, are you?” His lips quirked ever so slightly. “Would you prefer a false one?” You groaned. “That’s not ugh, never mind.” He returned to reviewing the report, but the subtle amusement in his expression remained. Despite yourself, you found that the warmth of the pastry and the unexpected thoughtfulness of the gesture settled something else inside you as well.

Between bites of the pastry, you glanced up at Shadow Milk Cookie, watching as his sharp gaze flicked over Earl Grey Cookie’s report. The room was quiet save for the occasional sound of pages turning, and for a moment, you almost forgot the embarrassment of your stomach’s earlier betrayal. You swallowed the last bite and wiped your hands on a napkin. “So? How is it?” you asked, leaning forward slightly. “I know Earl Grey is brilliant! I mean, one of the smartest cookies I know but did he do as well as I think he did?” Shadow Milk Cookie hummed thoughtfully, his golden eyes scanning the final lines before he set the report down with a quiet tap of his fingers. “His argument is well-reasoned, and his methodology is sound. There is confidence in his approach an admirable trait in any scholar.” You grinned. “I knew it. He always acts like he’s second-guessing himself, but I swear, half the time he’s the one helping me figure things out.” “There is a difference between questioning one’s understanding and lacking it,” Shadow Milk Cookie mused. “Doubt, when harnessed correctly, sharpens the mind.” You nodded, twirling your pen between your fingers. “Yeah… I guess that’s true. Earl Grey always says he’s ‘double-checking,’ but I think he just doesn’t give himself enough credit.”

Shadow Milk Cookie gave a slight nod, sliding the report back toward you. “He has a strong grasp of the material. If he continues refining his work, he will go far.” You couldn’t wait to tell Earl Grey about the praise though knowing him, he’d probably wave it off with a dismissive comment. Still, it felt good to hear it from someone like Shadow Milk Cookie. With a satisfied sigh, you leaned back in your chair, stretching a little. “Well, at least one of us is naturally gifted,” you joked. “Some of us have to work twice as hard just to keep up.” Shadow Milk Cookie raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. “Effort is no lesser virtue than talent. You would do well to remember that.” You blinked at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. It wasn’t scolding, nor was it mere encouragement it was a truth he simply expected you to accept. “…Right,” you murmured, looking down at your notes. Perhaps you were starting to believe it too.

You slid the copy of Earl Grey Cookie’s report back toward him, tilting your head slightly. “Would you mind writing down a few notes for him? Just, you know, some pointers?” Shadow Milk Cookie’s gaze flicked from you to the document, then back again. “He is more than capable of refining his own work.” “I know that,” you said quickly, shifting in your seat. “But he’d appreciate the feedback. And don’t worry it’s a copy of the original, so you can write on it.” There was a brief pause before Shadow Milk Cookie took up his pen, tapping it lightly against the parchment. “Very well.” You watched as he began writing in the margins, his script elegant and precise. His notes were efficient, no stroke wasted, each remark direct yet constructive. Even in something as simple as this, his intellect was undeniable. You propped your chin on your hand. “I think he’ll actually frame this,” you joked. “A critique from the Sage of Truth? That’s got to be a collector’s item.” Shadow Milk Cookie let out a quiet hum amusement, perhaps? As he finished the last remark. “Then I trust he will make use of it rather than merely admire it.” You chuckled. “Oh, he will. He takes his work seriously, even when he thinks he’s messing up.” Shadow Milk Cookie set the pen down and slid the report back to you. “Then let us hope my insights prove useful.” You took the paper with a grateful smile. “They will. Thanks for this.” He simply nodded, as if such a favor required no thanks at all. You leaned back in your seat, stretching your arms slightly before letting them drop to your lap. “Well, I don’t have any more questions about today’s material,” you said, glancing at the clock. “But it’s not time for dinner yet, so now I’m at an impasse.” Shadow Milk Cookie regarded you with his usual composed expression, his hands folded neatly atop the desk. “An impasse?” You exhaled through your nose, drumming your fingers lightly against the edge of the desk. “Yeah. Too early for dinner, too late to start something new. So, what now?”

He tilted his head slightly. “You ask as if I am meant to provide an answer.” You gave a small, sheepish laugh. “I mean, you usually do.” For a brief moment, his golden eyes glimmered with something unreadable before he leaned back ever so slightly in his chair. “Then, logically, you must consider your available options. You could review past material, seek further clarification, or-” “Okay, okay,” you interrupted with a wave of your hand, grinning. “I meant more like… what do you do when you have time like this?” Shadow Milk Cookie studied you for a moment, as if measuring the weight of your question. “I read. I analyze previous findings. I prepare for upcoming discussions. Time is seldom unoccupied.” You gave him a half-lidded stare. “Of course you do.” A small chuckle left him, soft and brief. “Would you have expected anything else?” You sighed dramatically, slumping slightly in your seat. “No, I guess not.” You glanced at the clock again before propping your chin on your hand. “I don’t know… Maybe I’ll just sit here for a bit until it’s time for dinner.” Shadow Milk Cookie made no move to dismiss you. Instead, he regarded you with quiet amusement. “Then sit,” he said simply. And so you did, letting the comfortable silence settle between you.

You tapped your fingers idly against the desk, staring at the neat stacks of parchment and books arranged in perfect order. The quiet between you wasn’t uncomfortable, but it made your thoughts a little louder in your own head. After a moment, you glanced up at him. “You know,” you started, voice slower, more thoughtful, “I think you probably know a lot more about me than I know about you.” Shadow Milk Cookie raised a brow, but he didn’t interrupt. You shifted slightly in your seat, tapping your fingertips together. “I mean, you know how I think how I approach problems, where I struggle, what I need to work on… but I don’t really know much about you, outside of, well, this.” You gestured vaguely to his desk, to the books, to the very walls of his office that practically radiated his dedication to knowledge. He regarded you with that ever-composed expression, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his gaze. “And what is it you wish to know?” You hesitated, then leaned forward slightly. “What’s your favorite thing to do other than all of this?” You gestured to the papers in front of him. “Like, if you’re not researching or studying or being the Sage of Truth, what do you actually enjoy?” Shadow Milk Cookie looked mildly taken aback. It was subtle just the briefest pause, a slight tilt of his head as if considering the question more deeply than you’d expected. “…I am always learning,” he finally said, but his tone wasn’t dismissive. If anything, it was contemplative. “But if you are asking what I pursue outside of my academic obligations…” He trailed off for a moment before continuing, “I find fulfillment in music. Composition, particularly.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “Wait you compose music?” A small nod. “It is an exercise in structure and interpretation. Patterns and expression in tandem.” You blinked. “Huh. I didn’t expect that.” “And what did you expect?” he asked, amusement threading into his tone. You squinted. “I don’t know. I just figured you spent all your free time unraveling the mysteries of the universe or something.” Shadow Milk Cookie let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Even the mind must find balance.” You grinned. “So, what kind of music do you compose?” He gave you a knowing look. “Perhaps another time.” You pouted slightly but relented. Still, the thought of him composing music lingered in your mind, shifting something in your perception of him something subtle, yet significant. You leaned forward slightly, resting your elbows on the desk, eyes still alight with curiosity. “Okay, if you won’t tell me about the music itself… can you at least tell me what instrument you play?” Shadow Milk Cookie exhaled softly through his nose something close to a quiet laugh, though far more composed. He studied you for a moment, as if weighing whether he should indulge your curiosity. Then, after a brief pause, he answered, “The harpsichord.” Your eyes widened slightly. “Wait really?” He nodded in confirmation. Somehow, you had expected something more… modern. Or perhaps something more obscure, something you’d never even heard of. But the harpsichord? That was something you could picture something regal and refined, yet intricate in its mechanics.

“That’s…” You trailed off, searching for the right word. “That’s actually really fitting.” Shadow Milk Cookie raised a brow. “Is it?” You nodded. “Yeah. It’s… deliberate. Everything about the way a harpsichord sounds is precise you don’t get the same kind of resonance as a piano, so every note matters. It’s like… the musical equivalent of how you think. Every argument, every conclusion you always get to it with exactness, no wasted movement.” There was a flicker of something in his expression subtle, unreadable, but present. He didn’t respond immediately, instead tapping a thoughtful finger against the desk. “…An interesting perspective,” he finally said, his voice quieter than before. You grinned, satisfied with your analysis. “So, do you perform for people?” His expression returned to something more neutral. “Rarely.” That wasn’t exactly a no, but you could tell you weren’t getting anything else out of him at least not today. Still, the image of him seated at a harpsichord, playing something intricate and masterful, settled in your mind. You found yourself wanting to hear it. The office settled into a comfortable silence, save for the faint scratch of your pen against paper as you reviewed your notes. Shadow Milk Cookie, meanwhile, remained focused on whatever he was examining perhaps his own research, or maybe reviewing another scholar’s work. You weren’t entirely sure, and you didn’t ask.

There was something oddly peaceful about this quiet. No pressure to speak, no lingering embarrassment from your earlier questions just the steady rhythm of work. You underlined a few key points from today’s lecture, then flipped to another page, going over older material to solidify what you’d learned. Every so often, you glanced up, watching the way Shadow Milk Cookie’s eyes moved over the parchment in front of him, how his fingers occasionally tapped against the desk in thought. Before long, the hour passed, and you realized it was time to meet your friends for dinner. You closed your notebook with a soft thud, gathering your things as you stood. Shadow Milk Cookie barely looked up, but you still offered him a polite smile. “I’ll be heading out now. Have a good evening, Sage of Truth.” His quill paused mid-stroke, and for a brief moment, he regarded you before giving a small nod. “You as well.” With that, you slipped out of his office, making your way toward the dining hall. The quiet still lingered in your mind, though you weren’t sure why. You made your way to the dining hall, the familiar hum of conversation and clinking dishes filling the air as you grabbed a hearty meal larger than usual, to make up for skipping lunch. The scent of warm bread, roasted vegetables, and something sweet lingered in the air, making your stomach growl in anticipation.

With your tray balanced carefully in hand, you spotted your usual table and headed toward it, a content look settling on your face. Chai Latte Cookie, Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie, and Earl Grey Cookie were already there, deep in conversation about the latest academic workload. “Finally!” Chai Latte Cookie teased as you sat down. “You took forever! What, were you having another study date with the Sage of Truth?” You rolled your eyes, ignoring her as you set down your tray. Instead, you reached into your bag and pulled out Earl Grey Cookie’s report, sliding it across the table toward him. “Here. He looked over it.” Earl Grey Cookie’s eyes widened slightly, his usual composed demeanor slipping for just a second. “Wait, seriously?” He carefully took the parchment, scanning over the notes that had been added in the margins. “Of course,” you said, picking up your utensils. “I told you I’d ask.” The moment he spotted the first few notes, his brows furrowed, and he leaned in closer, as if absorbing every single mark on the page. Then, after a pause, he let out a small breath. “His handwriting is… incredible.”

You couldn’t help but smirk. “Right? It’s almost unfair. He could write anything, and it’d still look like it belongs in some ancient, prestigious manuscript.” Earl Grey Cookie hummed in agreement, still fixated on the notes. “His feedback is precise but thorough. He even pointed out areas where I could expand my argument instead of just correcting me outright.” “Well, that’s kind of how he teaches,” you said before taking a bite of your food. “He won’t just give you the answer, but he’ll make sure you realize what you’re missing.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie chuckled. “You sound like you’re actually enjoying tutoring now.” You paused mid-bite, glancing away with a slight huff. “I never said that.” Chai Latte Cookie smirked knowingly but didn’t push further. Instead, the conversation naturally shifted, and the evening continued with the usual back-and-forth between your friends. Still, even as you ate, your mind drifted back to the precise, elegant strokes of Shadow Milk Cookie’s writing. A reflection of him, in a way structured, refined, and ever so careful with every detail. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie’s voice cut through your thoughts, pulling you back to the present. “You won’t believe the kind of day I had,” he huffed, setting his utensils down with a little more force than necessary. “I almost had a full-blown argument with Professor Chamomile Truffle Cookie.” That caught everyone’s attention. Earl Grey Cookie raised a brow, Chai Latte Cookie leaned in with immediate interest, and you paused mid-bite. “Wait, what? What happened?” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “So, we were going over spell refinement techniques in class today, and I made a counterpoint to something he said about the sustainability of layered enchantments. And instead of considering it, he just-he completely dismissed me!” Chai Latte Cookie whistled. “Oof. That bad?” “Oh, it gets worse,” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie said, clearly still irritated. “I asked him to clarify why my point was invalid, and he just gave me some vague answer about ‘conventional wisdom’ and ‘historical precedent’ instead of actually addressing what I said.” Earl Grey Cookie sighed. “Classic.” You frowned. “But your argument had merit, right?”

“Exactly! I even cited a recent paper on the matter, but he just waved it off like it wasn’t worth discussing.” He crossed his arms, shaking his head. “I respect the guy, but I hate when professors refuse to acknowledge that newer research exists.” You nodded in understanding. “So… did you drop it, or did it actually turn into an argument?” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie hesitated, then sighed, slumping slightly. “I almost pushed it further, but I stopped myself. Barely. He’s still my professor, and I don’t want to dig myself into a hole just for the sake of proving a point.” “Smart move,” Earl Grey Cookie remarked. “Though I’d argue it’s still worth bringing up again. Maybe outside of class, in a setting where he’s more likely to actually listen.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie groaned. “That’s the thing, I don’t know if he ever would. He’s set in his ways, and I doubt he sees me as anything more than just another student with too many opinions.” Chai Latte Cookie patted his arm reassuringly. “Well, we think you’re brilliant. And you’re right just because something has been accepted for a long time doesn’t mean it can’t be challenged.” You nodded. “Yeah. Besides, if you’re really onto something, the research itself will prove it over time. Even if he doesn’t listen now, someone else will.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie sighed again, but this time, it was less frustrated. “Yeah… maybe you’re right.” Chai Latte Cookie grinned. “Of course we are. Now, eat your food before you turn this into a whole lecture of your own.” That finally got a chuckle out of him, and just like that, the tension eased, the conversation shifting to lighter topics. You smiled to yourself, relieved to see your friend in better spirits. Even so, a thought lingered in your mind. You had been lucky, your tutor, despite his intimidating presence and overwhelming knowledge, had never dismissed you. He never waved off your questions or belittled your struggles. Even when your progress was slow, he always made space for your thoughts, your learning.

You wondered if Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie had ever wished for that kind of guidance, too. Chai Latte Cookie leaned forward with a mischievous glint in her eye, practically bouncing in her seat. “You will not believe what I saw today.” You blinked, mid-bite. “Is this about them?” “Oh, it absolutely is.” She waggled her brows, eyes gleaming with excitement. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie groaned. “Stars above, not this again.” Earl Grey Cookie, however, merely sipped his tea. “Go on.” Chai Latte Cookie grinned. “So, I was passing by the faculty greenhouse, right? Minding my own business, being a completely innocent scholar with no intention of overhearing anything-” Earl Grey Cookie raised a brow. “That sounds unlikely.” “Hush. Anyway, I hear voices, so obviously, I investigate.” She paused for effect, then dramatically placed a hand over her heart. “And there they were Professor Star Anise Cookie and Professor Frosted Clementine Cookie, together.” You straightened. “Oh? What happened?” Chai Latte Cookie leaned in conspiratorially. “They were arguing but not in an angry way, more like a ‘we have unresolved feelings but neither of us wants to admit it’ way.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie let out a long sigh. “Why do you know what that sounds like?” She ignored him. “I couldn’t catch everything, but I swear I heard something about ‘this isn’t the right time’ and ‘what do you expect me to say?’” She gasped, clutching your arm. “It was so tense! And then! Oh, you’re going to love this he reached for her hand again!” “No way,” you whispered, eyes widening. “Oh, yes way.” Chai Latte Cookie smirked. “But she pulled back. Not in a bad way, though more like she was flustered, but trying to act like she wasn’t.” She placed a hand on her chest, sighing dramatically. “It was so tragic.”

Earl Grey Cookie tilted his head, looking thoughtful. “Professor Clementine is rather reserved. If something is truly going on between them, she may not want it to be public.” “Exactly!” Chai Latte Cookie pointed at him. “Which makes this even more intriguing.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie shook his head. “I don’t understand how you all have the energy for this.” “Because we thrive on it,” you said with a grin. Chai Latte Cookie snapped her fingers. “Exactly! Life is exhausting, studies are grueling, but a little mystery and romance? It fuels us.” Earl Grey Cookie smirked. “So, the real question is what happens next?” “Oh, I will find out,” Chai Latte Cookie declared with determination. You laughed, shaking your head. “Of course you will.” As much as you worried about your studies, about everything that lay ahead, moments like this sharing stories, teasing each other, losing yourselves in silly intrigue made it all a little easier. You narrowed your eyes at Chai Latte Cookie, your spoon hovering over your plate. “Wait a minute… You didn’t just happen to pass by the faculty greenhouse, did you?” Chai Latte Cookie gasped, a hand flying to her chest in mock offense. “How dare you imply such a thing?” Earl Grey Cookie smirked, setting his teacup down. “So, you did go looking for them.” Chai Latte Cookie huffed, crossing her arms. “Look, after what someone said yesterday” she gestured dramatically at you “I had to confirm. You can’t just drop a revelation like that and expect me to not investigate.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Chai, I told you that in confidence! You were supposed to just enjoy the information, not go snooping for more!” Chai Latte Cookie grinned unapologetically. “Oh, please. You knew exactly what would happen the moment you told me. Besides, aren’t you glad I did? Now we know there’s something going on!” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know what? I don’t even have the energy to argue with you anymore.” Chai Latte Cookie wiggled her eyebrows at you. “Admit it you love that I found out more.” You tried to look exasperated, but a small part of you was curious. “…Okay, maybe a little.” “I knew it!” She beamed, victorious. Earl Grey Cookie chuckled. “You are relentless.” Chai Latte Cookie flipped her hair. “Thank you. I try.” You sighed, shaking your head but smiling all the same. “You’re impossible.” Chai Latte Cookie nudged you. “And yet, you’d be lost without me.” Despite yourself, you laughed. She wasn’t wrong. You leaned forward eagerly, unable to hold back your excitement any longer. "Okay, but listen I got all my homework right today. All of it." Chai Latte Cookie gasped, her hands flying to her cheeks. "No way! Not a single mistake?"

You shook your head, beaming. "Not one! He even praised me for it. Said my reasoning was solid and everything!" Earl Grey Cookie raised an eyebrow, impressed. "That’s quite the accomplishment, considering your usual complaints about the assignments." Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie smirked, stirring his tea. "So, what you're saying is… our dear scholar is finally learning?" You huffed, but it was hard to act offended when you were still so overjoyed. "Yes, finally! You guys, I can't even explain it, it just felt so good hearing that I did well. No corrections, no misunderstandings just right." Chai Latte Cookie practically melted, clutching her heart. "Ugh, I love this for you! All that work is finally paying off!" Earl Grey Cookie gave you a small nod of approval. "You should be proud. It’s not easy getting through material at that level without a single error." "I am proud," you admitted, grinning. "I mean, I know I still have a long way to go, but for once, I didn’t feel completely lost." Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie chuckled. "That’s how you know it’s real progress." Chai Latte Cookie leaned in conspiratorially. "So, did he look proud of you?" You blinked, caught off guard. "I mean, he said I did well. And he did smile a little…" She gasped dramatically. "Ohhh, a smile? From him?" Earl Grey Cookie sighed, shaking his head. "Here we go." You groaned, covering your face. "Chai, please" But she was already giggling. "What? I’m just saying, it’s cute!" You shook your head, laughing despite yourself. "I swear, you will find romance in anything." "Of course! It makes life more interesting." Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie rolled his eyes but smiled. "Alright, alright. Let’s not let their achievement get buried under your dramatics." "Thank you," you said pointedly. Chai Latte Cookie stuck her tongue out at him, then turned back to you, squeezing your hand. "Seriously, though. I’m really proud of you. We all are." The warmth in your chest grew, and you gave them all a grateful smile. "Thanks, guys. That means a lot."

It really did. Dinner ended on a high note, laughter lingering in the air even as you parted ways with your friends. The warmth of their encouragement, their easy camaraderie, and the sheer joy of the evening stayed with you as you made your way back to your dorm. The cool night air did little to temper the giddy excitement bubbling in your chest. You did it. For the first time in what felt like forever, you had a moment where everything clicked where you weren’t just barely scraping by but actually succeeding. And tomorrow? Tomorrow was Friday. The last day of classes for the week. Maybe you’d sleep in after that. Maybe you’d allow yourself to just exist for a little while without worrying about coursework or expectations. The thought made you sigh contentedly as you unlocked your door, stepping inside and shutting out the world for the night. For once, things felt good. And you’d let yourself enjoy it. The morning light streamed through your window as you groggily blinked awake, stretching with a lazy yawn. You glanced at the clock far earlier than you usually managed to wake up. Maybe it was the excitement from last night still lingering in your bones. With a sigh, you swung your legs out of bed and prepared for the day, grabbing your things before heading out. That was when you checked your schedule… and stopped dead in your tracks. Professor Almond Cookie had canceled class.

For a moment, you just stood there, blinking at the notification as if rereading it would somehow make it untrue. A free morning? No impending doom of assignments or lectures? Your first instinct was to mope after all, what were you supposed to do now? But then another thought hit you, one much more pressing. Breakfast. Your stomach grumbled as if in agreement, and without a second thought, you took off toward the dining hall. You weren’t about to waste a rare opportunity for a peaceful morning meal. In your pursuit of food, you turned a corner a little too sharply, nearly colliding with someone. You skidded to a stop just in time, breath catching in surprise as you found yourself face-to-face with none other than “Shadow Milk Cookie?” The Sage of Truth blinked at you, clearly caught off guard. But as quickly as the surprise came, it melted into his usual composed demeanor, golden eyes steady as they regarded you. "Such haste this early in the morning?" he mused, crossing his arms with a slight shake of his head. "I would hope you are not fleeing from trouble." You huffed, straightening up. "I am not fleeing from anything," you said, before flashing him a grin. "I’m just excited for breakfast! No class today, so I figured I’d get an early start." Shadow Milk Cookie gave a hum of understanding, though there was still a hint of amusement in his gaze. "A fortunate turn of events, then." "Right?" You rocked on your heels before glancing at him curiously. "Wait, are you headed to breakfast too?" "It would seem so," he admitted, falling into step beside you as you both continued toward the dining hall. You hesitated for a moment, then looked up at him with a small smile. "Would you want to sit with me and my friends? If you're not too busy, I mean."

There was a brief pause as he considered the offer. Then, in a tone just as measured as ever, he replied, "If you would have me, then I suppose I shall accept." You grinned, barely able to contain your excitement. You couldn’t wait to see the look on Chai Latte Cookie’s face when she realized who was joining you all for breakfast. You grabbed a tray and followed Shadow Milk Cookie into the dining hall, scanning the variety of food laid out before you. As you both moved down the line, you found yourself glancing at his choices his plate was neatly arranged with an assortment of nutritious foods grains, fruits, and a balanced portion of protein. It wasn’t anything particularly extravagant, but there was something refined about the way he selected his meal, as if even his breakfast was chosen with careful consideration. You weren’t sure why, but it made you hesitate for a moment when it was your turn. Normally, you might have gone for something simple, maybe something indulgent since you had the time to enjoy it today. But instead, you found yourself reaching for waffles then topping them with an artful arrangement of fruit and a generous dollop of yogurt. Unconsciously, you even made sure to pick a balanced variety, adding a side of nuts for protein, almost as if…You blinked, realizing what you were doing only after your tray was already full. Shadow Milk Cookie, of course, remained oblivious to your internal realization, calmly waiting for you before heading toward the seating area.

You followed, trying to push away the sudden awareness creeping in. It wasn’t like you had done it because of him… right? It was just… breakfast. A normal, completely regular breakfast. At least, that’s what you told yourself as you took your seat beside him. Chai Latte Cookie, Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie, and Earl Grey Cookie hesitantly approached the table, their gazes flickering toward Shadow Milk Cookie before settling on you. You wasted no time addressing them the moment they sat down. "Okay, why did nobody tell me class was canceled?" you demanded, placing your fork down with a huff. "I walked all the way to the lecture hall only to find an empty room! I could’ve just come straight here for breakfast!" Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie raised an eyebrow. "You didn’t check your messages?" You blinked. "There was a message?" Earl Grey Cookie let out a quiet sigh and took a sip of his tea. "Professor Almond sent out an announcement last night. I assume you were too busy with your notes to notice?" Your face heated slightly. Okay, maybe you had been too caught up reviewing your material, but still! "Would’ve been nice if one of you sent me a reminder," you muttered, spearing a piece of fruit with unnecessary force. Chai Latte Cookie grinned, leaning on the table with her chin in her hands. "Oh, but then you wouldn’t have had this lovely little breakfast moment, would you?" Her eyes gleamed with mischief as they flickered between you and Shadow Milk Cookie. You gave her a look. Not now. Shadow Milk Cookie, to his credit, remained composed as ever, merely observing the exchange with mild amusement as he continued eating. Hazelnut Biscotti sighed, shaking his head. "You make it sound like we plotted against them."Chai Latte giggled. "I'm just saying, things worked out pretty well, didn't they?" You rolled your eyes, but despite everything, you couldn't help but smile. Even with the morning mishap, the warmth of familiar company and an unexpectedly pleasant breakfast companion made up for it. Earl Grey Cookie set his teacup down with measured precision, regarding Shadow Milk Cookie with a curious yet respectful gaze. “To what do we owe the pleasure of the Sage of Truth joining us this morning?”

Shadow Milk Cookie, composed as ever, stirred his tea before replying, “A simple convergence of circumstances. Your friend and I happened upon each other on our way to breakfast.” His gaze flickered to you, just barely amused. “With great enthusiasm, I might add.” You bristled slightly. “I was just… walking.” “Hmm.” Shadow Milk Cookie made a soft, knowing sound, but said nothing further. Chai Latte Cookie leaned forward, clearly intrigued. “I didn’t even know you ate breakfast in the dining hall. You must be so busy that we never see you.” Shadow Milk Cookie gave a small, thoughtful nod. “My schedule is… fluid. But when the opportunity arises, I see no reason to forgo a well-balanced meal.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie hummed, inspecting the spread on his tray before glancing at yours. “So, is that why they suddenly decided to eat like an actual scholar today?” You blinked, looking down at your plate fresh fruit, yogurt, whole grains all things you had absentmindedly grabbed while walking alongside Shadow Milk. Only now did you realize how closely it resembled his own meal. Chai Latte Cookie grinned. “Ohhh. Interesting.” You hurriedly shoveled a bite of food into your mouth. “I just wanted something healthy!” Earl Grey Cookie smirked. “No need to justify it. Imitation is a form of admiration, after all.” You groaned. “Can we not start this early?” Shadow Milk Cookie, seemingly unbothered by the teasing, merely sipped his tea. “Curiosity is natural. And if it results in a more mindful approach to one’s well-being, I see no reason to object.”

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie snorted. “Translation You got caught copying him, and he’s letting you off the hook.” Chai Latte Cookie laughed. “Hey, at least now we know the Sage of Truth is a good influence.” She then turned her attention back to him. “Speaking of which you’re always buried in books, but what do you actually do for fun?” Shadow Milk Cookie regarded her for a moment before answering in his usual, measured tone. “Truth-seeking is inherently enjoyable.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie groaned. “That’s not an answer.” Earl Grey Cookie chuckled. “It’s the answer we should have expected.” You tried to hide your smile behind your teacup, feeling lighter than you had in a while. Breakfast with your friends was always a good way to start the day but having Shadow Milk Cookie here, for once, made it feel… different. Unexpected, but not unwelcome. There was an odd sort of warmth in knowing something about him that no one else at the table did. As the conversation carried on Chai Latte Cookie enthusiastically leading the charge into another round of campus gossip you let yourself sink into your thoughts. The harpsichord. The image of Shadow Milk Cookie, so composed and measured, playing something intricate and beautiful, lingered in your mind. It was almost impossible to picture, yet at the same time, it made perfect sense.

A secret, just for you.Chai Latte Cookie called your name, but the sound barely registered, lost in the hum of conversation around you. Your thoughts had wandered, lingering on the quiet revelation from earlier that Shadow Milk Cookie played the harpsichord. You were still caught up in the quiet satisfaction of knowing something about Shadow Milk Cookie that no one else did…that he played the harpsichord, that there was a piece of him separate from the scholar, the beacon of truth, something personal. It felt almost delicate, like if you dwelled on it too long, it would slip through your fingers. It felt nice, knowing something so small yet personal about him, like a secret meant just for you. He was always a figure of knowledge and composure, admired from afar, but this? This made him feel… real.

A light tap against your wrist jolted you back to the present. "You seem rather lost in thought," Shadow Milk Cookie remarked, his tone even as ever. He had barely moved, his golden eyes steady on you, but there was a quiet insistence to his words. You blinked, realizing the table had gone quiet, all eyes now on you. "Finally," Chai Latte huffed. "I called you like three times!" Earl Grey Cookie raised a curious brow, sipping his tea. "You looked practically entranced." You opened your mouth, scrambling for an excuse, but before you could speak, Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie leaned forward slightly, eyeing you with mock concern. "Did you eat anything questionable in the past twenty-four hours?" he asked, half-joking but still watching you like you might suddenly pass out. "Something expired? A cursed snack, maybe?" You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "No, I’m fine. Just thinking." "About?" Chai Latte pressed, eyes gleaming. "Nothing important," you muttered, reaching for your drink. Hazelnut Biscotti still looked suspicious. "If you suddenly start floating or speaking in tongues, I’m calling an exorcist." You snorted, shaking your head as the conversation moved on. Still, you could feel Shadow Milk Cookie's gaze lingering just a little longer before he, too, returned his focus elsewhere. You suddenly perked up, energy returning to your voice as a thought struck you. "Oh! Speaking of weird things, I actually heard-" You stopped mid-sentence, your mouth hanging slightly open as you quickly reevaluated your words.

Right. Shadow Milk Cookie was here. Your excitement deflated in an instant, and you cleared your throat, waving a hand dismissively. "Ah, never mind. It’s not important." Chai Latte Cookie immediately narrowed her eyes. "Oh, absolutely not. You don’t just get all excited and then drop it like that. Spill." "It’s nothing," you insisted, shoving a spoonful of yogurt-covered waffle into your mouth for good measure. Earl Grey Cookie smirked. "Is it nothing? Or is it something you don’t want to say in present company?" Your eyes darted toward Shadow Milk Cookie, who, to his credit, looked completely unbothered, idly stirring his tea as he listened. "You are under no obligation to filter your words on my account," he said, voice as composed as ever. "However, if it is something you hesitate to share, I will not pry." Which, somehow, only made it worse. "No, no, it’s not that!" you quickly denied, feeling your face heat up. "It’s just… a dumb rumor about a professor I had last semester. Probably baseless, so no point in spreading it." Chai Latte Cookie groaned dramatically. "Ugh, fine. But if I hear it from someone else first, I’m going to be personally offended." Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie gave you a side-eye. "So it is gossip." You let out an exaggerated sigh. "I am not engaging in slander first thing in the morning, thank you very much." "That’s personal growth," Earl Grey Cookie quipped. Chai Latte rolled her eyes. "It’s boring, that’s what it is." Despite yourself, you laughed, the conversation moving forward with ease. Still, as you stole a quick glance at Shadow Milk Cookie, you couldn’t help but wonder did he really not care for gossip? Or was he just exceptionally good at keeping his thoughts to himself?

You huffed, leaning forward on the table. “Alright, since you’re here, you have to contribute something.” Shadow Milk Cookie blinked, clearly amused by your demand. “Oh?” “You’ve been sitting there, listening to our gossip, but you haven’t shared a single thing,” you pointed out, tapping your spoon against the table for emphasis. “That’s unfair.” Chai Latte Cookie gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her chest. “They’re right! The Sage of Truth is holding back the truth? How scandalous!” Earl Grey Cookie smirked, swirling his tea lazily. “A betrayal of principle, truly.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie shook his head with a sigh. “You all sound ridiculous.” Shadow Milk Cookie chuckled, his golden eyes glinting with amusement as he rested his chin on his hand. “And what, exactly, do you expect me to share?” You grinned. “I dunno. Something. What’s the most interesting thing you’ve overheard lately?” He hummed, appearing thoughtful. Then, in a calm, deliberate tone, he said, “I did hear an amusing rumor recently… Apparently, a certain group of scholars has been sneaking into the Academy gardens at odd hours to perform what they claim are ‘rituals’ to enhance their studies.” Chai Latte Cookie immediately perked up. “What?!” Earl Grey Cookie quirked a brow. “Rituals?” Shadow Milk Cookie nodded. “Yes. They believe that by studying under the moonlight, they can absorb celestial wisdom and heighten their comprehension.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie snorted. “That’s ridiculous.” You, however, were intrigued. “Wait… who even started that rumor?” Shadow Milk Cookie tilted his head slightly, his smile unreadable. “One could say it started with them. Whether or not it holds any truth… well, that is another matter.” Chai Latte Cookie practically vibrated in her seat. “Okay, but who are they?” Shadow Milk Cookie simply sipped his tea. “Now, now. Wouldn’t it be more fun to find out for yourselves?” Earl Grey Cookie sighed. “Of course. We should’ve known he wouldn’t just hand us the answer.” You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Fine, fine. But next time, you owe us actual gossip.” Shadow Milk Cookie smiled knowingly. “We shall see.”

Chai Latte Cookie huffed, leaning back in her seat. “Honestly, I don’t know what I expected. Of course he wouldn’t just spill everything.” Earl Grey Cookie took a measured sip of his tea. “Still, that’s an interesting rumor. I wonder if it’s just a group of eccentric students or if there’s more to it.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie, however, looked unimpressed. “There’s nothing to it. Some students just get desperate before exams and do whatever they can to convince themselves they’ll do better.” You snickered. “So, you don’t think the moon is whispering secrets to them?” He shot you a dry look. “Absolutely not.” Chai Latte Cookie leaned forward, eyes glimmering mischievously. “Now, imagine if the Sage of Truth himself did something like that. The entire Academy would go into shock.” You turned to Shadow Milk Cookie, grinning. “Do you have any secret study rituals?” His expression remained composed, but there was a flicker of amusement in his golden eyes. “If I did, I would hardly reveal them now, would I?” Chai Latte Cookie gasped. “So you admit it?” “I admitted nothing.” You shook your head, laughing. “Alright, alright. I won’t press further.” You stretched your arms over your head, letting out a content sigh. “Well, since I have nothing to do now, I might as well tag along with you.” The words left your mouth before you fully processed them, and the moment they did, the atmosphere around the table subtly shifted. You blinked, suddenly hyper-aware of their stares. Had… had you just spoken to Shadow Milk Cookie like that? So casually? You set your fork down, glancing at Shadow Milk Cookie with barely restrained curiosity. Maybe it was the energy from breakfast, or maybe it was just the fact that you were feeling bold after already speaking so casually to him once. Either way, the question left your mouth before you could think twice. “So, what are you doing after this, Shadow Milk Cookie?” A follow up question to test the waters but, the moment his name left your lips, you realized how easily it had slipped out. There was no heavy title, no layers of formality just his name, spoken like you might address any other scholar. And your friends noticed. Earl Grey Cookie’s spoon clinked against his cup, Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie’s gaze flickered toward you, and Chai Latte Cookie, ever so perceptive, shot you a look that practically screamed, Oh? You ignored all of them. “Do you have to teach a class or anything?” you added, trying to make the question sound completely normal, as if you hadn’t just stunned the entire table. Shadow Milk Cookie, to his credit, did not look fazed. If anything, his golden eyes flickered with amusement, as though he were fully aware of the effect your words had on the group but chose not to comment on it.

“I do not have a lecture to give today,” he answered smoothly, setting his teacup down. “My time, for the most part, is dedicated to my research.” That piqued your interest. “What kind of research?” “Various inquiries, as always. But I am currently focused on an ongoing analysis of arcane inscriptions found in the older halls of the Academy.” Your brows raised. That did sound interesting. “Oh, so you’re just going to be reading all day?” Shadow Milk Cookie’s lips curled slightly. “Would that be disappointing?” “No, I just…” You hesitated before leaning forward slightly. “Can I come see?” For the second time that morning, your words seemed to surprise your friends. This time, Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie actually stopped eating to look at you properly, and Chai Latte Cookie made a quiet noise of intrigue. Earl Grey Cookie simply observed, as though waiting to see how Shadow Milk Cookie would respond. And respond he did. “If you are truly that interested,” he said, eyes gleaming, “then you are welcome to accompany me.” You blinked. “Wait… really?” “Did you expect me to refuse?” “Well… maybe.” He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Curiosity should not be stifled. If you wish to see what I am working on, I see no reason to deny you.” Chai Latte Cookie made a small movement, crossing her arms with an amused smirk. “Huh.” You did not like that ‘huh.’ But instead of engaging, you focused on Shadow Milk Cookie, feeling a spark of excitement. “Alright then. I’ll come with you.” And just like that, you had agreed to spend the rest of the morning with the Sage of Truth himself.

Your friends bid you farewell, each with their own expressions of intrigue. Chai Latte Cookie gave you a knowing smile, Earl Grey Cookie simply nodded in acknowledgment, and Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie well, he had other plans. Just as you turned to leave, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you aside, lowering his voice so only you could hear. “If you see anything interesting, bring me back a souvenir.” You blinked. “A… souvenir?” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie shrugged. “I mean, he’s letting you tag along to his research. That counts for something, right? Who knows what you’ll find? Maybe an old scroll, a mysterious trinket” You sighed, shaking your head. “I don’t think it works like that.” “Still,” he said, crossing his arms, “if there is something, I’d appreciate it.” You gave him a skeptical look, but there was no real harm in humoring him. “Fine, if there’s something. No promises.” He smirked, satisfied, before nudging you toward the waiting Shadow Milk Cookie. “Go on, then. Don’t keep him waiting.” With one last glance at your friends, you turned back to the Sage of Truth, who had been waiting patiently, his expression unreadable but amused nonetheless. “Shall we?” he asked, motioning for you to follow. And with that, you walked beside him, ready to see just what kind of research he had in store. As you walked alongside Shadow Milk Cookie, the air felt different lighter, almost surreal. Maybe it was the quiet between you both, or maybe it was just the lingering excitement from being invited into a space most scholars could only dream of.

A/N Nothing happened earlier I never ever reuploaded ch 9 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 But anyways tomorrow is FRIDAYYY!!!! and everything I was supposed to go this weekend got cancelled bc "Lack of funding" LIKE WHAT I REGISTERED FOR THIS CONFERENCE 2 WEEKS IN ADVANCE WDYMMMM

anyways...

Remember to follow and reblog for more bangers 😎😎😎🔥🔥🔥🔥

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joelmillers-wife · 2 months ago

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take my hand (joel miller x f!reader) chapter three

18+, MDNI series masterlist: here | please check this for complete series warnings and tags | 🎵series playlist pairing: joel miller x f!reader chapter summary: your patrol with joel takes a detour to find the next edition of Savage Starlight wc: 6.3k rating: this story is 18+ (minors, do not interact), there will be eventual smut in later chapters chapter warnings and tags: moderate amount of violence, cursing and tlou lore accurate outbreak content below, TW: alludes to suicidal ideation (please feel free to message me or send me an ask about specifics if you want clarification before reading), angst, reader has no description besides she has hair, jackson!joel, age difference: reader is in her 30s and joel is in his 50s, sloooow burn, enemies to friends to lovers type-beat ao3 | follow @writtenbynic and turn on notifications for chapters! dividers made by: @saradika-graphics , check them out!

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III. ANOTHER LOVE

And if somebody hurts you, I wanna fight But my hand's been broken one too many times So I'll use my voice, I'll be so fucking rude Words, they always win, but I know I'll lose

Your patrol shifts ended up being every Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday, with you on standby as extra help for Fridays—each day changing what time you were scheduled as well as the location. After your first patrol, you had anticipated a new partner, only to return the Wednesday after to see Joel still listed next to your name. Not just on that day, but almost every shift after.

It shocked you at first. In your eyes, this was either because Tommy was forcing his brother to be your partner, or maybe Maria wanted to punish Joel.

“Ya know what it took me to convince Maria to let you stay in this damn town? What with her knowin’ everythin’ you’re capable of?”

You recall the conversation you had overheard between Tommy and Joel that morning. The way Tommy had scolded him for his lack of involvement with other people. How Joel dragged him away for another talk after you both had arrived back to Jackson, you assumed Joel yelled at Tommy to change partners. Considering your designated patrol partner for the near future, you settled on the idea that you were being forced to work with Joel as some form of punishment towards him.

But your confusion grew as time went on, because Joel wasn’t always your partner. If it wasn’t Joel, if he wasn’t available on a certain day for whatever reason, then it was Tommy—only ever Tommy and Joel. It felt odd, considering everyone else in town took turns rotating on who their partners were. It was common that the same groups would be together most of the time, but they all still had some changes every now and then. Not you, though—no. It only made things worse when people picked up on your pairings, and you learned that prior to you, Joel only ever went on patrols with his brother.

The question of how trusted you really were began to plague you. Maybe, on that first patrol, Joel saw something in you he didn’t like—something that he didn’t trust and had confided in his brother to keep an eye on you.

That theory didn’t hold much proof to you, though. You had grown closer with Tommy, and Maria with him. Your occasional shifts with Tommy always went well—the two of you bonding over similar interests such as music, or Tommy talking about being a father and how Benjamin was like. You were invited for dinners every now and then at their house, were asked about your opinions on things going on in town or advice on what would best help the community. They made you feel valued. Were you really a liability if they were allowing you into their space so willingly?

It was almost a year of you being in Jackson with your second autumn here coming to end. You had grown somewhat used to the way things were around here and things felt like they had evolved for the better the more time you spent here. The only thing that never changed was Joel.

The two of you never engaged in small talk—all the information you knew about him was limited, and given to you by either Ellie or his brother. You’d see him around town, whether in the mess hall or at the shops, but all he ever offered was a brief glance in your direction with no greeting. Patrols were nothing out of the ordinary as you never encountered anything more than a few stray infected scattered around on their own, far away from Jackson. Your moments with Joel were the same—quiet. The most you ever got out of him was that he transitioned from grunting and scowling at everything you said to giving you nods, still accompanied by his usual frown.

Progress.

You spent most of your time with Ellie as she still would go to you for quality time. The difference is that she stopped being shy about coming up with excuses to hang out, and instead would just show up to places you were and begin conversing with you. You also noticed Joel began expecting her to be where you were—looking for her in the stables or knocking on your door to check her whereabouts. For some reason, it meant something to you. The fact that you had become someone he was comfortable having his “kid” around. A part of you maybe wished he would find your presence somewhat… comfortable? Just enough to make moments like these a bit less awkward.

The morning weather today felt colder than recent, making you believe winter was approaching a bit faster than anticipated. The good news with the cold is that the infected were less likely to be out soon enough. Not because they feel anything, but because everyone else stays as sheltered and secluded as they can to stay safe, giving the infected no reason to wander off.

Today’s shift has been a typical routine that you and Joel have fallen into. Each time you still offer small comments to him with no response, but you stopped paying his reactions any mind.

The two of you had just cleared the outdoor shopping center, finding nothing more than two clickers in one of the stores when Joel spoke up.

“Area’s cleared,” he says before looking behind him to a small road that leads further into another town. Nodding his head in that direction, he says, “Let’s head into the next town over. Tommy told me he saw a comic book store up ‘ere. Wanna try and find the next volume in the series Ellie’s readin’.”

The idea warms your heart before you show slight hesitation. “Are you sure? That part’s way past anything we’re usually allowed to reach… I mean, Maria is in charge, and she is your sister-in-law so I figure they probably don’t mind you—”

Joel cuts you off firmly. “That’s right. They don’t mind. Now c’mon.”

Knowing there is no use in arguing with him, you silently follow his lead.

It takes you about half an hour to reach the town. Upon arriving, you are a bit surprised to see how much bigger the area is than you expected. The layout resembles a square with an empty park and courtyard in the center. Separated from the middle by roads, you see pet stores, abandoned restaurants, a tattoo shop, and more buildings along the perimeter.

A quick glance around showed you that there was no immediate threat, but a part of you still felt anxious. While the land was wide, the arrangement of the shops made it so you felt you were trapped in a box—opening yourself up to anyone, or anything, that could be looking in.

Seemingly unbothered, Joel kept walking along the road before he found a tall and wide building—the comic book store. It looked to be about two floors tall based on what you could see through the molded windows, the dirt and destruction making it hard for you both to get a good view of what lies inside.

“Son of a—fuckin’...” You hear Joel saying. Bringing your attention to him, you see him frustratingly yanking on both of the door handles to the store. Getting no result, he slams his hand on the glass. “God damn fuckin’ doors jammed,” he says with a scowl on his face.

“Oh, um…” You trail off as you try to look around for another way in. You walk over to the neighboring store, a coffee shop, and take a look through the windows for any immediate danger. Finding no signs of infected, you look further back to notice that towards the back of the coffee shop, a door was slightly ajar—a door that was against the wall being shared with the comic book store.

You hear Joel huff back at the doors of the comic book store. “Whatever,” he mumbles to himself while looking at his feet. “Fuckin’ dumb idea anyways.”

You were stunned to see a tinge of sadness from him, and your heart hurt because you knew what was going on. It wasn’t so obvious that everyone in town knew, but if you spent enough time with Ellie you could tell that something was… off between the two of them. She found more excuses to be out with friends at school, and you’d assume Joel would become stricter because of it. The stereotype of a rebellious teenager being scolded by the overprotective father.

Yet he was always very lax when it came to it—letting her hang out as much as she wanted, being more lenient on curfews while also trying to make sure she stays safe. You could tell he was trying, and whatever it was that was happening between them, whatever had caused this very slight tension, he was trying to fix it. Realizing he potentially wanted to get her something to make her happy, you decide you want to help.

Not for him, though. For Ellie of course.

“Hey,” you call out to grab his attention. “I see a door in the back of this place… It’s open and looks like it may lead into the comic book store,” you suggest while pointing towards the back side.

He comes up beside you and ducks down, looking into the window and following his eyes to where your finger was pointing. Your body shudders as his figure hovers over your shoulder. You take note that he’s closer than he’s ever been to you, his breath on your neck and his body heat making you feel warm all of a sudden. You clear your throat before standing up straight and taking a step away from him.

“We could try and see if we can make it through there?” You offer.

Joel straightens up, looking down at you for a moment until his lips settle into a firm line and he gives you a nod in agreement.

The two of you are able to get the coffee shop door pulled open with a little bit of effort. The moment you step in, Joel pushes past you to reach the back door before you can. He holds up his gun before looking at you. Having done this routine with him before, you knowingly nod before mimicking his movements to position your own gun properly.

His hand reaches for the doorknob and twists it slowly, only for the both of you to be surprised at the fact it opened easily. Joel steps a foot across the doorway to enter into the comic book store, but the both of you simultaneously freeze when you hear it.

Clicking. Much more clicking than you recall having experienced together.

Joel turns his head to look back at you with a brief look of worry in his eyes before putting a finger to his lips. You give a nod of understanding and tense up as you wait for him to fully open the rest of the door.

The building is a lot bigger than you anticipated. It feels more akin to one of those large grocery stores you had run into, except with two stories. The place was very open with wide aisles that were lined with rows and rows of not just comic books, but what seemed to be posters, DVDs, and vinyls. The center of the store had a very large circular area that you chalked up to be the check out area. The back of the store held a small stage with chairs thrown across it, as if this place held some kind of game night or community events at one point. In front of the stage were long tables with books scattered across—chairs surrounding the tables in an unorganized manner. A quick look upstairs showcased even more aisles of books and other items from what you could see.

Scattered amongst the store was infected—potentially thirty of them, but you couldn’t make out all of them with the boarded windows blocking the sunlight creeping in. They looked to be a group mixed with runners and clickers. The runners were bent over, curled into themselves twitching. The unnerving sounds of them groaning made your skin crawl—it was almost as if they were in pain.

That’s something you had learned from the shitty government teachings the quarantine zones would give people at the start of the outbreak. To their understanding, the beginning stages of the Cordyceps infection, the runners, were alive. Their minds overtaken by the fungus, driving them mad with a desire to continue growing the fungus. Humans trapped with poisoned minds and unable to control themselves.

Sometimes that’s why you think they make the sounds they do—it’s as if they’re crying out in pain.

The sounds from runners don’t fill you with the same sense of fear as the clickers do. The third stage of the infection has caused their brains to split open as the fungus grows outside of their body—making them blind and reliant on sound. The eerie clicking noises they make being their only source to know what is going on around them through echolocation.

You’ve dealt with this many infected before. You’ve seen, handled, and killed more than your fair share of clickers. You’ve done this before. You’ve done this on your own. You can do it with Joel.

The two of you quietly step through the door, standing next to each other and watching for any signs that your presence has been made known. Seemingly in the clear, Joel looks to you before pointing to one side of the store. He then points to himself while gesturing to the other side of the store—the two of you in understanding of how to go about this.

You both silently pull out your individual knives, crouching and walking as quietly as possible over to your respective areas. The first infected you come up to is a runner with its position making it so that you walk up on its left side. With a silent swiftness, you lunge up and grab it by its throat with your left arm, holding it in a headlock. Before it’s able to screech out in warning, you bring the knife up to its right temple, sinking your weapon into it as you hear a sickening squelching sound. As you feel its struggling stop, you slowly lower its body onto the floor so as to not make a loud sound that alerts the others.

Reaching the end of that aisle, you take a moment to look over to Joel’s side to check on him and find his eyes already on your figure. He holds a firm and cold look in his eyes, but you see something else in him that you aren’t given the chance to figure out. The two of you give each other a quick once-over, and you share a nod before continuing the same routine throughout the store.

After a good amount of time, the two of you were able to clear the entire store quietly and without causing chaos. Joel walks up to you and whispers, “You alright?”

Your voice matching his, you reassure him that you are. A flash of relief passes over his face before he looks around. “Think we got ‘em all. Don’t see or hear anythin’ else… I checked upstairs too,” he says out of breath.

Speaking at a more normal volume, you say, “Guess we gotta go find that comic book now.”

He looks at you and huffs out what sounds like it could be a laugh. “Yeah… Let’s get on that.”

After he shares the name of the book he is looking for, you part ways to silently search different areas of the store to find the book. You recognize the title, Savage Starlight. You’ve been hearing recaps of it from Ellie after she finished each one she had found.

You search your section of the first floor with no luck and climb up the broken escalator to the top floor. You scan through about five more aisles before you feel as though this store won’t have what it is you are looking for. Off to one side of the upper floor you spot signs for some restrooms in a corner, in front of it lies giant broken wooden beams that are stacked on top of each other. You take a quick glance up to see a piece of the ceiling has fallen and covers a section of aisles you had not checked out yet.

Walking up to it, you struggle to read what is held on the row as so much dust and debris covers the space–your body twisting as you try to peek through the pieces of wood to look at the shelves. You decide to pull out your flashlight from your backpack and try to shine light through whatever pieces of the row that were not covered. When you hit the third row, you smile.

No fucking way.

Your smile growing, you lean over the railing on the second floor. “Hey, Joel, guess what I found?”

He hurries up the escalator and makes his way over to stand beside you as you shine your flashlight through the cracks of the beams. His eyes spot what you found when the light settles on the words Savage Starlight.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he says. For the first time since you’ve been to Jackson, he smiles. A real, full smile. The only person who’s smile was contagious to you has been Ellie—yet you’ve never felt the way you do right now seeing Joel smile.

“Looks like this part of the building fell and the beams covered it. I just need your help moving them in order to reach the books if that’s alright,” you share, scanning your gaze up to the ceiling as you look over the beams. You see Joel nod in your peripheral and turn to see him looking at you, still smiling, but it’s a more distracted smile. You stare back at him for a moment, your heart stuttering from the intensity of his gaze before starting to move the wooden beams out of the way.

Joel quickly takes over by moving some of the larger pieces of wood out of the way first. “I got it. Been doin’ shit like this for years before the outbreak. Used to be a contractor,” he says. That was something you had known about him already as Tommy had told you stories about that part of their lives before the outbreak. But it’s the first bit of information that you’ve heard about Joel, directly from Joel.

Another thing you learned about Joel was something that you had noticed when you first saw him. It was that scar on the right side of his temple. You hadn’t paid it any mind until Ellie had talked about it one day when ranting on how he never listens to her.

“He got shot, they missed, and now he has that scar. He says that’s the reason why he can’t hear me that well sometimes, but really I think that’s just him covering up for getting old.”

The little bit of information made moments with Joel make a little more sense. You’d notice that he’d always ride his horse with you on his left side, leaving his good ear to hear anything important from you. Or when you would point out a noise, he’d always angle his head so that he was able to catch the sound a bit more clearly on his left ear. Knowing that about him just helped you understand his habits a bit more.

Which is why you understand how he doesn’t hear it.

He’s crouched over moving a particularly large wooden beam out of the way when he bangs it loudly against the other beams, an echo following the sound as the pieces clang together. The restroom doors you saw earlier were a few feet to his right, leaving his body angled so that his back is to the doors. With his right ear facing the bathroom, his left ear was only picking up the sounds of the wood moving and the building creaking.

As you went to lay a piece of wood against the wall, you heard a clatter from the restroom. You almost didn’t catch it with the sound being so slight. You squint in the direction, not hearing any other noise for a moment. Suddenly, the bathroom door bangs open and you watch as a clicker screeches and rushes out heading straight towards the noise it heard—straight towards Joel.

You don’t have a chance to think before you yell out Joel’s name, trying to run over to him to reach him before it can. You briefly see him turn around, catching that his movements become quicker after his right ear wasn’t the one facing the bathroom. You push him out of the way, towards one of the reading tables lined across the railing of the second floor.

All you could hear is that clicking noise that never fails to make you nauseous before you realize you succeeded in moving Joel out of the way. Instead, the clicker lunges at you, forcing you and it to topple to the ground with it landing on top of you. It makes a particularly loud screech and rapid clicking before its head rears back for a moment before diving towards you. Just in time, you take a stronger grip on the small piece of wood you were about to throw to the side before, and shove the wood in front of your neck.

Too scared to look, you close your eyes and hold your breath until you hear the crunch of wood as it bites down rabidly into the beam. There’s suddenly the sound of scrambling to your left and the sound of a gun being drawn before you hear a loud bang, the clicking noise twisting into garbled cries. You simultaneously feel something warm and sticky spray across your face, followed by the collapsing pressure of a body onto your chest before being pushed off.

You finally open your eyes to see the clicker’s corpse laying on your right side before looking at the wooden beam you were holding in your hand where you noticed teeth marks sunk deep into it. A loud ringing in your ears engulfs your senses.

No fucking wonder Joel went mostly deaf in his right ear.

You drop your head back against the floor with a deep exhale of breath as your muscles sag with relief. You’re alive. You’re not bit.

The moment of relief ends sharply as you feel your body being roughly pulled up—your eyes slightly glazed over as you try to focus on the cause of the sudden movement you endured. You quickly blink away the fog from your eyes in an effort to focus on the outlined figure standing before you.

Joel. Joel is in front of you. His face is so close to yours that if you moved an inch, your noses would touch. His brown eyes are wide, brows furrowed as always but it was different. It wasn’t out of anger or annoyance… It almost looked like fear. Pure fear.

Your eyes continue to move across his face before you realize his lips were moving. How long has he been talking?

His lips seem to be forming the same word over and over again. Oh… He’s saying your name. You hear it now.

Slowly, the ringing subsides and your brain begins to process what is happening.

“Thought you said to always call out before you take a shot so close to someone’s face.”

He doesn’t seem to find your comment funny, or maybe he just didn’t register it. More of your senses are coming back when you begin to feel pain and look down to see Joel harshly gripping both of your arms whilst shaking you to get your attention. Slowly looking back up to his face, you notice his lips moving again.

Fuck. He was still talking.

“Are you okay?” Joel frantically asks. He repeats your name before demanding, “Are you okay?”

You finally nod but he doesn’t seem satisfied. His eyes look over your body as he begins frantically pushing your sleeves up before reaching to pull the collar of your jacket away from your neck. “Are you bit? Did it bite ya? Are you okay?”

You brush off his hands before bending down to hold up the wooden beam. God, who knew he could be so touchy. “Threw this in front of me just in time. It bit this, not me. I’m fine, I’m not bit.”

His wide eyes look between the piece of wood and you—back and forth, back and forth with that same bit of fear in his eyes that you feel like you’ve seen a lot of today.

“Don’t worry,” you try to reassure.

What you intended to be soothing words seem to have the opposite effect on him. Upon hearing what you say, you see his eyes freeze on yours and watch that fear dissipate and turn into anger. It wasn’t just the usual anger you’ve experienced from him—that typical annoyed anger. No… this was something you hadn’t seen before.

This anger… It’s not like you think he would hurt you. No part of you thinks that. But you’re realizing that he is capable of something much darker than what he lets on around most—something that Maria seemed to already be hesitant about.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

What?

“What?” You ask. His voice isn’t that loud in volume but it still makes you flinch. He speaks with a tone that only comes out of people when they are so angry they can’t see straight.

“The fuck were you thinkin’?! Jumpin’ in front of me like that… Pushin’ me over. You could’ve gotten yourself fuckin’ killed.”

You take a second to process his words. He’s right, you could’ve died… But you didn’t. And if you hadn’t acted as quickly as you did, he would have died.

And Ellie would be alone.

“I heard and saw it before you did, Joel. Your back was to it… You wouldn’t have reacted in time. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t—”

Joel cuts you off. “That ain’t your fuckin’ job now is it? You can’t be actin’ so goddamn reckless and throwin’ yourself in front of danger so often. It’s stupid.”

His voice shocks you. His words shock you—how much venom he holds in them. You’re realizing just now how much he really hates you.

So you fight back.

“What the hell was I thinking…? I told you I’m fine. I wasn’t bit so who cares?” You say, your voice increasing in volume.

Joel seems taken aback for a split second before something dark flashes in his eyes. “I care. So why the fuck don’t you?”

You aren’t given a chance to react as you watch his face twist up in even more anger before shifting into some sort of sick humor. Except he doesn’t yell this time. He laughs to himself. “God… I was fuckin’ right about you.”

You feel your heart drop to your stomach, but he’s not done talking.

“All this damn time you've just been breezin’ through life, huh? Come into town, fit right in, make god damn fuckin’ cookies with your neighbors, make friends with all the people in town, and probably hold your little fuckin’ book clubs every Sunday. And Tommy, my idiot little brother, sticks you with me to make me babysit ya on patrol when you haven’t encountered any real threats. You just get to go out, see the fuckin’ scenery, come home and sleep in your nice warm bed without a fuckin’ worry in the world. And here, today, you’re faced with one single real world problem, and you just act completely fuckin’ reckless.”

You stand there, taking in his words as you silently seethe in anger while his chest moves up and down rapidly as he finishes his rant. You don’t respond right away, blinking a few times and looking around before you finally speak.

“Is that what you think of me?” You softly say at first. He doesn’t show any reaction or sign that he has an answer, besides his mouth settling into a firm line. “You think I’m just some kid don’t you—”

“Oh, believe me, I know you ain’t a kid—”

“Really? Then why the fuck do you keep treating me like one?!” You snap.

You notice the anger on his face flicker as his furrowed brows twitch briefly.

Your voice grows louder as you continue. “All you’ve done since I fucking got here is treat me like a child. The way you look at me, the way you treat me, the patronizing, fucking tone you use when you’re forced to actually talk to me…” You trail off as your chest rises and falls harshly to catch your breath as the words rush out of you.

Your face screws up in anger. “I heard you, you know? Talking to Tommy before our first patrol.”

Joel’s frown deepens in confusion before realization settles over his face causing his scowl to relax a bit. “Yeah,” you bitterly say. “I heard you. I wasn’t gonna get in between a conversation with you and your brother back then, but for fuck’s sake Joel… If you hated me that much, then why didn’t you try to further convince him to get you off patrol with me? When we got back I know you talked to him about getting me off the schedule with you.”

At that, Joel’s face turns back to confusion as if what you said is wrong. You don’t take a break to focus on that though as you continue with your own argument.

“Do you just have this idea that you are the only person who has ever experienced horror in this world? To even think it was possible for me to get as far as I did without a single scratch on me? Seriously? That’s realistic to you?” You huff out angrily, waving your hands around in fury.

“You say that you know I’m not a fucking kid, right? You know that means the outbreak happened after I was born. Meaning my whole world and fucking family fell apart the same way it did for you,” your voice breaks. “I lived through the past two decades in this hell. I fucking lost people and saw horrifying things. I have fought countless of those fucking things every damn day before I stepped foot into Jackson. I was alone for months, surviving on my own. Fighting on my own. Doing everything on my own to keep myself alive until I came here.”

You feel tears well in your eyes and furiously brush them away, frustrated with yourself for letting yourself cry in front of him. Recalling the anxieties you felt when you first arrived in Jackson last year, you say, “Ya know… The first thing I felt when stepping foot into Jackson wasn’t comfort—it was fear. Fear of how normal everything seemed. Fear of being too loud in the streets… Wondering how the hell people could do it without worrying about infected hearing and running in. I mean, god… I haven’t had a full night’s sleep for the year that I’ve been here, despite how much it may seem like I’ve acclimated. I can’t even rest without having one eye constantly open, looking at the door and jumping at every noise I hear in my own home.”

“I did it all on my own, because I don’t have anyone. There’s no one back home that would care if I returned dead or alive. There hasn’t been someone for years. But you? You have people, Joel. So, I’m sorry if my reaction seemed reckless to you, okay? Maybe… Maybe I unconsciously did it because I haven’t really cared about surviving an infected encounter or not for the past decade.”

Joel takes a sharp inhale hearing that. Hearing the crack in your voice as you speak, his face flinching as he stands there with his usual frown.

“The difference between you and me is you have people that care. Your brother? Ellie? Fucking… God, Joel… that little girl depends on you for everything and talks about you like you hung the fucking moon. You can’t leave that. So, I’m sorry that you just see me as some dumb kid, but no one depends on me back home. The least I could do is fucking make sure that the people who depend on you can see you again.”

You notice your body's reaction to your words when you finally stop speaking—how your throat hurts from yelling, how your body is shaking from anger, how your chest is rapidly moving in an effort to catch your breath.

Done talking, you take the moment to properly look at Joel—he doesn’t look completely angry anymore. In fact, you can’t tell what expression he has. His brows are pushed together in a frown, but raised ever so slightly in what looks like it could be surprise. His eyes are dark, but not cold. You don’t know if you’d call that a warm look, but it’s different from the cold ones you’re so used to seeing—the ones you saw a moment ago after you told him to not worry.

His mouth goes between being held in a firm line to opening every few seconds as if he wants to say something but can’t. Looking down, you see his fists opening and closing tightly like he’s trying to calm himself down.

The two of you stare at each other for a moment longer before you become fed up. He doesn’t care about what you say, you realize. He probably didn’t even listen—still thinking about how to scold you even more for your actions from a few minutes ago.

Scoffing, you reach over to move the last wooden beam and grab the novel that you two had come here for. You shove it into his chest. “Here’s your fucking comic. I’m going home.”

In your peripheral, you see Joel standing there holding the comic to his chest and watching you walk away. You can’t find it in you to care to wait on him.

You make your way down the escalator and back out the way you guys had entered, marching straight to your horse after leaving the building. Without hesitation, you hop on and head back for Jackson, leaving Joel behind.

A few minutes into the journey, you hear the sounds of Joel behind you somewhere along the way as he finally catches up to you, but you don’t pay him any mind. He stays a few feet behind you, silently letting you lead the way.

Hours later, you reach Jackson and wait for the guards to open the gates for you both. The moment you ride in, you notice Tommy at the gates walking towards you both. He seems to take in your current state as you see concern wash over him.

“Are you okay? Did you guys have a tough run in?”

Joel looks to you before opening his mouth to respond to Tommy, but you cut him off before he had the chance. “We’re fine. Couple stragglers but we had it handled,” you say. Tommy looks between you and Joel with an uneasy look on his face. “Seriously, we’re good.”

“Well… Alright then. You let me know if you need anythin’, okay?” Tommy offers.

You nod and begin to walk your horse back to the stables. Tying her up, you check to see that Joel has gone before you walk over to Tommy.

“I can’t go on patrols with Joel anymore.”

Tommy’s face flinches with surprise. “What? The hell happened out there? You sure you’re okay?”

“I already said I’m fine,” you respond firmly. “I’m sorry to ask you to change things so suddenly, I just… I can’t go on patrols with Joel anymore. Please, Tommy.”

Tommy hesitates briefly and looks as if he considers pushing on the subject. Having heard the pleading in your voice, he seems to decide against it and gives you a nod. “Alright. I’ll get it changed. I’m gonna give you the rest of the week off, though. Let you take care of yourself for a bit and give us time to rearrange things. Does that sound good?”

You nod without a word before walking back home. The moment you reach your block, you see Joel standing outside his front yard with Ellie who is jumping up and down. Trying to remain unseen, you book it to your place and get about halfway up the walkway before you hear your name being called.

Turning around, you see Ellie making a run for you before she collides with you in a hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She yells.

You force out a tight smile before pulling her away. “What are you thanking me for?”

She looks back to Joel and pulls up the comic book in her hand. “Joel said you helped him get this for me!”

You look up to see Joel standing there watching you with a shy expression. It feels odd, seeing the normally stoic and cold man you’ve come to know appear so disarmed and uncomfortable.

Looking back down at Ellie, you say, “It’s no worries. Honestly, it was all him. I’m just glad you get to have another in the series.”

Ellie looks as though she wants to continue talking, so you cut her off. “I need to go inside, get washed up. I’ll see you around maybe,” you tell her before walking straight into your house. You wince to yourself as you ignore the look of confusion and disappointment on her face. You just need to get away from them, from him, as soon as possible.

God, what the fuck is wrong with you?

reblogs and comments are appreciated! i hope you all enjoy <3 a/n: hope you guys enjoy :) next chapter will be out saturday april 26th! i also was asked by a few people to be tagged, so here you go! if anyone else wants to be tagged then please let me know! @dendulinka6 @suzysface @koshkaj-blog @orcasoul @emmasveinyahhdih @thatoneperson38747

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #tmh series

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chronologically-challenged · 29 days ago

Text

Final Bow pt1.

Summary: The Director is "defeated" in a sense. The party brings her to the well on zir request. Of course, Loop is there. Normal reactions happen all around.

@askoverkill

(This is a bit of a theory fic, but mostly "this image won't get out of my head, so I decided to write it down" sort of thing. Part 1 is Loop's POV. Part 2 will be dawn. Enjoy!)

---

You see him in person for the first time in several eternities.

You know what the Director looks like. Their shining face and night dusted skin all dressed up in a jester costume is blazed in her mind. If you give yourself a moment to think too long, you could pick out all the details the Director foolishly kept of their previous self that even they couldn't scrub clean. Their eyes, their brows, even the way the light that shines from their head gives an impression of hair left unbrushed in a certain way. But you don't look too long. You haven't in so many outer loops. In fact, despite the affectionate name that threatens to spill out of your traitorous tongue, you first and foremost see the Director as every other Siffrin sees them, a fool and an executioner in one, a malicious joke ready to put the punch in punchline at a moment's notice.

Now? It's difficult to see how they could ever be a threat at all.

The rest of the party leads the procession. Odile first, Isabeau second, with Bonnie sprinting past them the moment they see dawn already standing up to meet them midway. You watch them all impassively, only noting the two halves of the Director's cracked mask in Odile's hands.

No, while Lupus, dusk, and dawn run up to the party, your focus is at the entrance of the clearing.

Mirabelle trails behind, holding the Director's hand. Their face is free of the mask for the first time since it's mattered. Somewhere along the way they lost their jester's hat.

They have no mouth. They have no symbols across their cheeks. Only his eyes persevere through the harsh light.

Unbidden, the image of your stardust carefully trailing their finger in the dirt flashes bright in your mind. Their hat covered his expression, but you could still see just how careful he was to make each simple detail. Then with a small nod, they leaned back to show you, well you.

A shining head. Half crescent eyes. No clothes to speak of. A star in your chest.

That was you. This was what you looked like.

You asked for them not to loop too early. They hadn't. In fact, you think, maybe, they let themself linger for once. Gave you time to memorize it. How else could you remember even now? How else could you in your weakest moments, redraw the small sketch as clear as the day your stardust bestowed it to you?

The Director does not have crescent eyes. In fact, only one eye shines through the insistent light. It's an eye shape you knew all too well. Or perhaps, you never truly knew them at all.

The Director freezes when they see you.

Mirabelle tugs at their hand. “Siffrin?”

Three heads swivel towards her. Dusk, dawn, and the Director all at once head her call. Lupus clutches at both dusk's and dawn's cloaks, glaring up at the Director.

And you? You don't move from the steps of the well. You can't bring yourself to.

Even across these eons, you are just unhelpful, useless Loop.

“This is weird,” you hear Bonnie say. This causes a round of banter between the party. “No, it's not” “It kinda is.” “Well, you get used to it.” “That doesn't help, Siffrin.” and on and on.

The Director and you add nothing. After all, your current roles aren't fit for such antics.

“So, what're fae doing here?” Lupus eventually interrupts. They point to the Director with a sneer, pointedly bringing their ‘Siffernts’ closer to them the best they can with only two hands. “We beat you. Go away.”

“Lupus,” dusk warns, then looks back to the Director. They try to hide the child under their cloak.

Dawn only eyes the Director warily. You can tell they're waiting for a final twist, for the show to finally end with a “more fitting” tragedy. If luck would have, only you and the Director will be the tragedians in this version of this play.

The Director does not take the child's bait. They barely seem to acknowledge anyone else at all. Their grip loosens from Mirabelle's hand, sliding out almost unnaturally from her grip. She shouts out to catch them, but they've tucked their hands to their chest far too quickly.

Their eye still hasn't left yours.

Isabeau quarters dawn away from the path of the Director and raises his fists. Odile stops him a second before he strikes out. “Wait, a minute,” she hisses. You don't hear the rest of their arguing.

The Director brushes past them, unconcerned.

“No, wait, Loop!!! Get out of there! Run away from her!!!” Finally, someone, dusk you think, gets it.

You wonder if it's the way the Director stalks like a lion across the worn path. Or the uncanny silence the otherwise bombastic jester tends to have. Or maybe it was the way their previously dejected body shot up when they realized who was on the steps.

You knew because you watched them this entire time. It would be kinda hard not to realize.

But even if you hadn't, you'd be an idiot not to see with just one look how much they want to eat you alive.

This is your final stand in this concluding act.

The Director stops at the base of the steps.

Silence chokes the crowd.

“Loop,” they finally say.

“Director,” you call back.

The look in their eye has not faded.

“You must hate me.”

Obviously? You don't designate that with a response. There's no point.

They move again. They raise a foot and the heel clanks against the stairs.

“I deserve it. I know I do.” Their head tilts, and for the first time since they've seen you, their eye twitches. You realize after a moment, they're trying to smile without that mask for a mouth. “So say it. Say you hate me.”

They step up the stairs.

“Say it.”

Another.

“Say it.”

And another. They're close enough that you can feel their matching star pulse in their chest.

“No even better, kill me and get it over with! Not like you haven't tried already!!!”

Quicker than you can see, they grab your hands and clasp their around their own throat. Their fingers lock into yours, painfully intertwining them. The skies on your hands meld into one another into one starry canvas.

Around you, the audience gasps and then shouts all at once.

“Siffrin, that's enough!” “Gems alive.” “Please stop…” “I thought we were done with this.” “I knew this was a bad idea.” “Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!!!”

You feel the heat of the Director's throat, and the subtle movement of their breaths, and the way their fingers tremble in yours, and their eye swallowing you whole as they wait for you to make the next move, and you wonder briefly if dawn rewound time in this frozen moment because it stretches on and on and on and on and on, as you memorize the Director's face the same way you did your own lifetimes ago.

You try to uncurl your hands from their throat. They latch on tighter.

“Come on, I know you want to! Or is it?” The Director gasps playfully, “Oh! Don't want to get your hands dirty, do you Loop? That's low even for you.”

That's enough. “Shut up, Director.”

“Aww, are you-” they try, but you interrupt their nonsense quickly.

“No, shut up. I'm talking now. You wanted to say something, I'm saying something.”

Their eye narrows. “Go on~,” they purr out, but with the way their nails dig into your hands, you can tell they wanted to snarl.

Their attention is all on you. Even with your hands on their throat, the stage set for you, and the audience watching for your next words, you never felt any less in control. Their nails claw into you, and even now you know this loop, this miracle could end any moment. One wrong thought from dawn could take this away from you. But you'd gone and done the stupidest thing and let yourself actually hope again. Hope that the party could get through to the Director. Hope that Lupus and dusk could keep dawn afloat long enough to get the party back. Hope beyond hope that there was enough of your stardust in the Director to end this play once in for all.

So you ask, hoping it to be true. “Is it over?”

The Director blinks, clearly not expecting the question. Their grip loosens ever so slightly around their own throat. “...pardon?”

“Is. It. Over?” you hiss. They know what you mean. Asking again, they eye flickers in amusement. You can practically see where their Cheshire grin should be.

“I doooooon't know,” they sing, “Is it?”

“Director.”

They look to you, then to dawn, and back. You don't miss how dawn flinches. The Director shrugs.

“I think that's a question we all want to know,” you hear Odile say.

You can feel the Director suppress a laugh. Their throat jumps against your fingers.

“What's so funny?” You ask.

“Oh, you know. Just! The irony! Asking ME for the answers when I can't know. Not really.” The Director rests their chin on your wound fingers and presses harder.

Bonnie, thank the Stars, interrupts this nonsense. “WeirdFrin stop being weird and answer their question.”

The Director sits back up. The light around their head dims the slightest bit. “If someone, not naming names, loops, then that's that! None of us will remember any of this. Except. That isn't the case is it?” They scratch at your hands. “We have, what do you call them, dawn and dusk? They'll remember. And of course, you Loop. You'll always know. So I'll ask you, what do you think? Is it over?”

You have to hope that the loops are done on dawn's end. That a promise of something after all this, a promise of the time after this is enough. You don't know, can't know if this is truly it.

Especially if the jester in front of you ruins it.

You ask, far too loud in the silent clearing. “Are you done?” You feel your fingers trembling.

“Yup! Done talking. Your turn~.”

“No. Are you done? With.” You look their costume up and down. “All this.”

Their eye widens, but the performance is back in a heartbeat, eye closing in a fake smile. “...........I asked first!“

“Actually I did!” you counter back. For good measure, you squeeze, just a bit. Two performers can play at this game.

And the Director is many things, but no one can say they do not play their part. “Ah! You did, didn't you!” They hum, long and loud. The sound buzzes up your hands into your arms, and almost all the way to your head. In the distance, you see the party tense. They're talking to each other, something about stopping this before it gets out of hand, which doesn't make sense. Nothing has happened yet and nothing will get done if no one says what they need to. Your hands may be around their throat, but the Director might as well be in the labyrinth for all it matters.

“In. A certain sense,” they say slowly. “If you look at a certain angle. Where I have any real control here… Then yeah. I'm done. Thegreatvillainhas finallybeendefeated.Hooray.Youdidit.Woohoo.Yaddayaddayadda. ANYWAY!” They clutch their hands against yours, and you briefly see a shimmer of a sharp toothy grin against the endless light of their face. If you squeeze any tighter, you'd block their windpipe. “Since you've finally won, why don't you just get it over with already and just kill me. Ya know. For old times sake.”

Your fingers press against their throat. A god's life in your hands. It probably wouldn't kill them if you finished choking them. Because of that, it would be cathartic just to squeeze, for everything they did to every other Siffrin, for what they did to the world, for what they did to you.

But…

But-

-It's over.

They tried to hide it behind a sneering veneer, but you got what you needed.

It's over, Stars. It's finally, finally over.

Why would you need anything else?

You squeeze once. The Director's eye widens, first in fear then into a feral vindication.

The look fades as your hands go to their shoulders, their back, and finally you don't see their expression at all, as you surely, fully press them chest to chest, star to star, breaths catching in the other's ears.

They flinch, of course. You pretend not to notice. You also pretend how despite how they try to not lean into your touches, they shiver as your hands run down their back.

“What are you doing?” He hisses.

You hum. “Isn't it obvious?”

They shiver. “Stop it. I-”

You wait for them to continue, but they don't. That won't do. “You?” you prompt.

“...You should hate me.”

“Okay.” You do.

“I hate you.”

“Okay.” You hold them tighter. Their arms start to waver, almost falling to your back.

You hate them, you should kill them, and it's tempting. But also why should you?

It's over. It's over it’s over it’s over-

“I put you through all of this,” your stardust tries to counter, “I hurt you, I hurt them, I'm a monster, you shouldn't be-”

“-I dont care.”

They try to push you back, but they end up flailing uselessly against your back. “What!?”

“You're done, right?” You press your hands against their back, and they let out a little gasp. They're trembling.

“...yes?”

“Then I don't care,” you repeat, resolute, “Stars, I don't even care anymore.”

They're here. They're done. That's all you need. That's all you've ever wanted.

They don't say anything for a time. You just hold them, far more gentle than they deserve, but you want to give them just the same. Slowly, his hands fall onto your back.

“...I didn't even say sorry,” they protest weakly.

You huff. “I didn't either. Would it help?”

They don't say anything back, only dig their nails into your back.

‘No.’ They don't need to say. ‘No, it wouldn't.’

It's for the best. You're not sure either of you would accept the other's apologies. No use ruining this with a harsh reality.

“Then we're done,” you say both for you and them. “It's over, stardust. It's finally over.”

“...Oh.”

You expect a quip. Maybe them to push you back. You're surprised, when they simply lean into you, and finally, finally hold you back.

Your own breath hitches at their warmth.

In a minute you'll need to let them go and ask them what the hell their plan is from here. Dusk, dawn, Lupus, the party, all of them will want explanations. It's inevitable this moment will end, as all moments should, even if they haven't for forever.

Until then, you hold your stardust tight. Becuase they're home here. They're here with you.

And with a miracle like that, who cares about anything else?

#isat #writing tag #overkill au #tw strangulation #luna writes #some things: yes loop only uses he/they for the director/stardust #subconciously they use only the pronouns they view them by despite saying they only see zem as the director #trying to make that a point by having everyone else use different pronouns #you can absolutley tell I have no idea how dusks story concludes #Im sorry dusk youre just kinda here ♥️#implication that lupus realizes what has been happening with dawn and how its the directors fault #goes from “toxic yaoi is entertaining” to “wait no protec ny sifferents-”#also yes implication that the party were told who loop and the director were and thats how they won #lots of little things #anyway part 1 was character study and part 2 is gonna be more of the REAL image that burned my mind #wasnt gonna be 2 parts but I realized they had two separate tones to them #will write the second part later anyway hope you enjoyed!

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starsenha · 5 months ago

Text

[16] FIRST IMPRESSSIONS - care to test that theory

synopsis: riki was a big fan of your group Devilish, but when he met you for the first time, he made a very bad first impression and now you hated him. rumors started to spark saying how you hated each other and to calm the rumors, the company decided to make you two hosts a variety show together for two months. wc: 5,7k tw: neck kisses, petnames, semi-public sex, bits of dry humping, dom!riki x sub!fem!reader, fingering, bigdick!riki, degradation, unprotected sex (please wrap it up), kinda down bad!riki, breast play, creampie, slight aftercare a/n: hi my loves, sorry i was mia for a few days i was visiting my family hihi, but I'm back! so I'll take back the update days for first impressions and teacher's pet!

"You're gripping like a fucking emotional support animal," Jongseob teased, looking back at you as your hand clutched his sleeve tightly.

The after-party was at the same location you had filmed in the previous episode, and the familiarity with it all just eased your nerves. You could hear your heart pounding in your chest, why were you so nervous?

"Relax. It's just a party."

"It's not just a party," you hissed under your breath. "Everyone's here, watching, talking. What if I make a fool out of myself? Or I-"

"Stare too much at your co-mc?" Jongseob, interrupted, a smirk tugging at his lips and his eyebrow raised.

You shot him a glare. "Don't start."

As you made your way further into the room, your eyes scanned the room. And then you saw him. Riki was standing near a group of crew members, a drink in one hand and laughing at something someone said. He was dressed casually, but he still looked so hot. But then again, when didn't he look hot, you thought.

His eyes locked on yours, and you could see them light up. he waved at you, a genuine smile spreading across his face. He actually looked happy to see you, and somehow, it made everything worse.

You froze for a split second, feeling your heartbeat kick into overdrive. "Oh no," you muttered, gripping Jongseob's sleeve tighter. "Abort mission. Distract me or something."

He chuckled. "Distract you? From what? You've been caught, he's looking right at you."

"Exactly!" you hissed. "That's the problem. Do something."

Jongseob leaned in closer, dropping his voice to a playful whisper. “You want me to shield you from the guy you’ve been awkwardly falling for during rehearsals? Not my circus, not my monkeys.”

“Seobie,” you warned, your tone sharp, though your cheeks were flushing. “I will ruin your life.”

“Okay, okay,” Jongseob said, holding his hands in mock surrender. "Let's get snacks or something. I’ll save you from the big, bad, ridiculously good-looking dancer.”

The thing is, it's not you were avoiding riki per say. But thing had definitely been a bit awkward between you two since that choreo. But then again, that was maybe only in your head. And judging by the way he waved at you a few minutes earlier, you could tell this wasn't awkward for him at all.

Since that chore, you became hyper-aware of how hot it was. And it was a problem. You couldn't date, especially not one of the most popular kpop idols at the moment. So you couldn't be attracted to him. But the more you tried to block it, the more you actually thought about him. And that was a problem. He was a problem.

Jongseob led you to the food table, your head closed as you bantered. You leaned against each other casually, laughing at a joke he made. From across the room, Riki's gaze flickered to you. His smile faltered ever so slightly as he watched Jongseob rest his hand on your shoulder while you leaned against him.

"Who's the guy Yn brought?" one of the crew members near Riki asked.

"Oh, that's Jongseob from P1Harmony. He's her friend," Riki replied casually, though his jaw tightened slightly. "They're pretty close."

"Looks like it," the guy said with a chuckle.

Riki took a sip of his drink, his eyes narrowing as he watched Jongseob playfully nudge your arm. Too close, he thought.

As you and Jongseob were grabbing a plate of snacks, you felt a presence behinf you. Turning slightly, you found Riki standing there, his usual confident grin in place.

"Hey," he said, his voice smooth. Oh no. "Nice to see you here."

You blinked, feeling your heart slip a beat. "Oh, hey. You too," you tried to sound calm, but your voice wavered slightly.

Your best friend, who was still standing close just in case, raised an eyebrow at the awkward interaction. "Riki, right? He said, extending a hand. "I’m Jongseob."

“I know,” Riki said, shaking his hand with a firm grip. “You’re Yn’s friend, right?”

“Best friend,” Jongseob corrected, his tone playful but pointed. “We go way back.”

“Ah,” Riki replied, his smile tightening. “Nice. You two seem… close.”

You stepped in quickly, sensing the shift in tone. “Yeah, we are,” you said, laughing nervously. “Jongseob’s like a brother to me.”

“Brother,” Riki echoed, glancing at the way Jongseob casually leaned against you. “Right.”

As the three of you stood there, the tension became palpable. Riki’s gaze lingered on how you and Jongseob interacted—the easy laughs, the subtle touches, the way you seemed completely at ease with him. Must be nice, he thought.

“So,” Riki said, leaning in slightly, his voice smooth but carrying an edge, “are you enjoying the party?”

“It’s nice,” you replied, avoiding his eyes. “Everyone seems really happy with how the show’s going.”

“They should be,” Riki said, his gaze steady on you. “You’ve been doing amazing. Especially with… our duet.”

Your face flushed, and you quickly looked away, pretending to adjust your plate. “Thanks. You too.”

“Yeah, that duet was something else,” Jongseob chimed in, clearly amusing by the awkwardness. “The chemistry was… thick.”

“Seob,” you hissed, elbowing him.

Riki’s lips quirked into a smirk. “Chemistry? I guess that’s one way to put it.”

———————————————

You and Jongseob stood in a small circle of crew members, casually chatting about the show and laughing at a few light-hearted jokes. You definitely had been more relaxed because of your best friend by your side, and you ere hontesly glad he came with.

“I’m gonna grab something to drink,” you said to Jongseob, stepping away from the conversation.

Before you could leave, Jongseob grabbed your wrist gently but firmly, giving you a pointed look. “Don’t drink too much,” he said in a low, mock-serious voice, his lips twitching into a smirk.

You rolled your eyes, pulling your hand free. “I’m not you, Seobie. I can handle myself.”

“Sure, sure,” he teased, crossing his arms as he watched you go. “Just remember, I’m your ride home.”

You waved him off, muttering, “Whatever,” as you made your way to the bar.

From across the room, Riki caught the entire interaction. His eyes narrowed as he watched Jongseob’s hand linger on your wrist and the way you smiled as you rolled your eyes. The ease and familiarity between you gnawed at him, and before he could think twice, his feet were already carrying him toward the bar.

You leaned against the counter, waiting for the bartender to hand you a sparkling water. You drummed your fingers on the surface, lost in thought, when Riki appeared beside you, startling you slightly.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “I’ve been waiting to catch you alone.”

Your fingers stilled, and you glanced at him briefly before looking away, focusing intently on you drink that was placed in front of you. “Oh? Why’s that, Riki?”

Riki tilted his head, his gaze burning into you. “Why do you think?”

You tensed, refusing to meet his eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe because you enjoy interrupting my peace.”

“Or,” Riki said, stepping closer, his tone dripping with something unreadable, “maybe because I wanted to talk about what’s been going on.”

You finally turned to him, your expression guarded. “What’s ‘going on’ exactly?” you asked, your voice cool.

Riki raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a slight smirk. “You know what I’m talking about. Don’t play dumb.”

Riki glanced back toward where Jongseob was still standing, laughing with the crew members. “You and Jongseob,” he said, his voice tinged with something darker. “You’re… close.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the statement. “Of course we’re close. He’s my best friend.”

Riki’s jaw tightened, his gaze flickering back to you. “Does he always grab your wrist like that?”

Your eyes widened slightly before narrowing. “Are you seriously jealous right now?”

Riki shrugged, but his smirk was gone. “Should I be?”

“Of Jongseob?” You scoffed, crossing your arms. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” Riki admitted, leaning in just enough to make your pulse race. “But I’ve noticed you haven’t been able to look me in the eyes since our last rehearsal. What’s that about?”

Your breath hitched, and you quickly glanced around the room. “Keep your voice down,” you hissed. “People might hear you.”

“So?” Riki replied, his voice soft but insistent. “What are they gonna hear? That we almost kissed? That you’ve been avoiding me ever since?”

Your face flushed, and you grabbed your drink, muttering, “Not here.”

“Where then?” Riki asked, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and challenge. “Lead the way.”

You led Riki through the quieter part of the studio lot, your heels clicking against the pavement as you brought them to the shadowed space behind the trailers. The air was cooler here, and the muffled sounds of the party faded into the background.

“Okay,” you said sharply. “Talk. What do you want to say?”

Riki leaned casually against the trailer, his hands in his pockets, his posture relaxed but his gaze piercing. “You’re the one who wanted to talk,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “But you’re the one who hasn’t been able to look me in the eyes since… well, you know.”

You flushed, though you quickly masked it with a scoff. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Riki raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Oh, really? So the avoiding me in rehearsals, the sudden ‘I need to leave’ moments, and the way you’re currently pretending I’m not standing right in front of you—that’s all just coincidence?”

“I’m not avoiding you,” you said defensively, though your voice wavered slightly.

“Uh-huh,” Riki said, pushing off the wall and taking a step closer to you. His tone turned teasing, his smirk widening. “You’re blushing, Yn.”

“I’m not,” you said quickly, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks despite your denial.

“You are,” Riki countered, leaning slightly closer. “Fuck, it's cute.”

Your stomach flipped at his words, but you quickly rolled your eyes to cover your reaction. “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” you muttered. “It’s just… warm out here.”

Riki chuckled softly, his voice dropping a note. “Sure it is.”

Trying to regain control of the situation, you straightened your posture and met his gaze head-on, though the effort made your heart race. “Whatever you’re thinking, Riki, just stop. That almost kiss? It didn’t mean anything. Our chemistry is just because we’re great dancers. That’s it.”

“Is that what you really think?” Riki asked, his tone amused but curious.

“It’s the truth,” you said firmly, though the words felt weak even to your own ears.

Riki smirked, taking another step closer until the space between you was almost nonexistent. “Care to test that little theory?”

You blinked, your breath hitching slightly as you instinctively stepped back, only to feel the cool surface of the trailer against your spine. “Riki,” you said, your voice wavering.

He tilted his head, his eyes glinting with mischief as he reached out to gently lift your chin with his fingers, forcing you to look at him. The heat of his touch sent a jolt through you, and your heart pounded in your chest.

“Admit it,” he said softly, his smirk widening. “There’s something here.”

“There’s nothing here,” you said quickly, though the slight tremble in your voice betrayed you. “You’re imagining things.”

“Am I?” Riki murmured, leaning in just enough that his breath brushed against your cheek. “Then why are you so nervous?”

“I’m not—” you started, but the words got caught in your throat as his lips quirked into a knowing smile. “What are you doing?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as Riki leaned even closer, his face mere inches from yours.

“Just testing something,” he whispered, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine.

Before you could respond, his lips brushed against yours softly, tentatively, as if giving you the chance to pull away. But you didn’t. Instead, you froze, your breath hitching as the heat pooled low in your belly, overwhelming every other thought.

Riki took the lack of resistance as permission, deepening the kiss slowly. His lips moved against yours, slow and sensual. He brought his other hand up to cup your cheek, tilting your face slightly as he pressed closer, his body heat radiating against her own.

Your hands, which had been pressed against the trailer behind you, hesitated before instinctively grabbing the front of his shirt for balance. Your mind screamed at you to stop, to push him away, but your body betrayed you, leaning into the kiss instead.

Riki pulled back slightly, just enough to whisper against your lips, “Still think it doesn’t mean anything?”

Your heart raced. His voice was soft and teasing, but the look in his eyes was anything but. You could feel the heat radiating from his body.

“Shut up,” you muttered, grabbing the collar of his shirt and yanking him down into a kiss.

This time, there was no hesitation. The kiss was rough, almost desperate, as if you had both been holding back for far too long. Riki froze for a split second, surprised before he let out a low growl and kissed you back with even more intensity.

His hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer as he pressed you firmly against the wall of the trailer. You gasped against his lips, your grip tightening on his shirt as his body pressed into yours.

Riki tilted your chin slightly to deepen the kiss, his thumb brushing against your jaw. “So fucking stubborn,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and breathless.

“Shut up,” you whispered again, though your voice trembled with emotion.

Riki smirked against your mouth, clearly enjoying your loss of composure. His hands slid to your hips, gripping them tightly as he kissed you harder, rougher. He nipped at your lower lip, earning a soft gasp from you that sent a jolt of satisfaction through him.

Without breaking the kiss, Riki reached behind you, fumbling for the handle of the trailer door. The door creaked open, and he guided you inside, his lips never leaving yours. You stumbled slightly, but Riki’s hands were firm on your waist, steadying you as you moved further into the dimly lit space.

The door swung shut behind you with a soft click, isolating you from the noise of the party outside. Your back hit the wall of the trailer, and Riki leaned into you, his hands braced on either side of your head. His lips traveled down to your jawline, pressing rough, open-mouthed kisses along your skin.

“Riki,” you whispered, your voice shaky but urgent, your fingers tangling in his hair.

“You’re driving me fucking crazy,” he muttered against your neck, his voice low and gravelly.

His hands slid down your sides, settling on your waist as he pulled you flush against him. You let out a soft whimper, your body responding instinctively to the way his hands gripped you, the way his lips moved against your skin. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling slightly, which only spurred him on.

Without a word, Riki’s hands slid to your thighs. In one swift motion, he lifted you effortlessly and set you on the small table behind you. Your breath hitched as your back met the cool surface, contrasting sharply with the heat radiating between you.

“You’re so easy to handle,” Riki murmured against your lips, his voice low and teasing. “Like putty in my hands.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you tried to glare at him, but your resolve crumbled when his hands gripped your thighs, pulling you closer to the edge of the table. “Shut up,” you muttered, you voice breathless.

“Shut up?” Riki repeated with a smirk, pulling back just enough to look at you. His dark eyes glinted with a mix of amusement and desire. “Is that all the words you know now, princess?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the pet name, and you hated how much it affected you. “Don’t call me that,” you said weakly, your hands clutching at the front of his shirt.

“Why not?” he teased, his lips brushing yours as he spoke. “You look like you’re enjoying yourself. Aren’t you, baby?”

Your breath hitched again, and you felt a whine escape your throat before she could stop it. Riki stilled for a moment, his smirk growing into a full grin. “Oh,” he said, his tone almost mocking. “You’re needy, aren’t you?”

“Riki,” you said, your voice a mix of frustration and desire, as you tried to pull him back into another kiss.

But Riki was having none of it. He pulled back slightly, just enough to make you whine again, his hands still gripping your thighs firmly. “Say it,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Say you like it when I call you that.”

You bit your lip, your head spinning as you tried to regain some semblance of control. “I’m not—”

“You’re not what?” Riki interrupted, leaning in so his lips were just a breath away from yours. “Not enjoying this? Because you’re making it pretty obvious, princess.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and despite yourself, she let out a small, needy moan. His hands tightened on your thighs, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was rougher, more consuming than before. You melted against him, your fingers clutching at his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

“You’re so cute when you’re like this,” Riki murmured against your lips, his tone dripping with amusement. “Like I can do whatever I want with you.”

“Riki,” you said again, your voice softer now, almost pleading.

“What is it, baby?” he whispered, his lips brushing her ear as he spoke. “Tell me what you want.”

Your face burned, your mind a haze of want and frustration. “Stop talking,” you muttered, pulling him back into another desperate kiss.

Riki chuckled against your lips, but he obliged, letting his actions speak louder than words. His hands slid up your sides, his touch firm yet teasing as if he was determined to make you fall apart completely. You felt yourself giving in entirely, your earlier resolve crumbling.

Riki pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as you both caught your breath. “Admit it,” he said, his voice low and teasing. "Just tell me you want me as much as I want you right now."

You didn’t respond, but the way your fingers tightened in his shirt and the way your breath hitched told him everything he needed to know.

“Good girl,” he murmured, pressing another kiss to your lips, and the words sent another shiver down her spine.

You were so overwhelmed. You clung to him as if you needed that to stay grounded. Your head tilted back slightly when his lips trailed down to your jawline once again. You moaned, and he smirked against your skin, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat. You shivered, your grip tightening on him as his teeth grazed your skin. He bit down lightly, enough to make you gasp but not enough to leave a mark.

“Careful,” you managed to say, though your voice was breathless and shaky. “Don’t leave—”

“I know,” Riki interrupted, his lips brushing against the spot he’d just bitten. “Wouldn’t want anyone else knowing what I’ve done to you.” He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, his smirk widening as he saw your flushed face and half-lidded eyes. “Though, honestly? I wouldn’t mind.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, trying to glare at him, but it lacked any real conviction.

Riki chuckled, his hands sliding to her waist as he leaned closer again. “You keep saying that, but I don’t think you actually want me to.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat as his lips found your neck again, this time pressing a kiss just beneath your ear. Your head tilted instinctively, and you felt you body betray you, leaning into his touch.

“That’s what I thought,” Riki murmured against your skin. “You like this too much to want me to stop.”

“You’re so full of yourself,” You managed to say, though your voice trembled.

“Maybe,” he replied, his tone playful but tinged with something darker. “But I’m not wrong, am I?” His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you closer to the edge of the table, flush against him. “Look at you. You’re putty in my hands.”

Your face burned at his words, and you tried to find something—anything—to say that would give you back even a shred of control.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” he said, his voice softer now, though the teasing lilt remained. “Especially like this.”

Your breath hitched, and you hated how much your body reacted to his words. “Stop saying things like that,” you said weakly, turning your face away to avoid his gaze.

Riki gently cupped your chin, tilting your face back toward him. “Why?” he asked, his tone light but challenging. “Does it make you nervous? Or…” He leaned in slightly, his lips just a breath away from yours. “Do you like it too much, perhaps?”

You swallowed hard, your heart racing as you struggled to keep your composure. “I hate you.”

“Sure,” Riki said, his smirk widening. “Keep telling yourself that, even if we both know it's not true.”

You didn’t respond—you couldn’t. Your mind was a whirlwind of emotions, and the way his hands gripped your waist and the heat of his breath against your skin made it impossible to think clearly.

“You’re so quiet now,” Riki teased, brushing his lips against yours lightly, barely a touch. “Where’s all that fire from earlier? Hm?”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the whine that threatened to escape your throat. Your body betrayed you again, leaning into him, and you felt the heat pooling low in your belly grow even stronger.

“Look at you,” Riki murmured, his voice low and filled with a mix of amusement and desire. “So needy. And I haven't even touched you yet."

You crashed your lips against his, your resolve crumbling completely. Fuck it. He let out a low growl, kissing you back. His hand find your lower back and he pushed your hips flushed against his. You could feel how hard he was underneath his jeans, and that alone made you whimpered.

You sighed contently, your hands tangling in his hair. He forced his tongue your mouth, tangling yours with his as his hand kneaded at your thigh. He tentatively bucked his hips against yours and you let out a moan. He smirked and did it again, eventually starting to grind his clothes dick against you.

His other hand gripped your hair, tilting your head back so he could nip and kiss at your neck while he continued to ground against you, rock hard. "So perfect," he whispered against your skin.

"Just fuck me already," you whined, surprising even yourself. What just took over you for you to say something like that to your co-mc, in the fucking trailer?

But to your surprise, Riki groaned against your skin, his hand immediately groped your clothed cunt as his lips went against your ear. "Fuck, so needy. Your lucky we don't have much time, or I'd ruin that pretty little mouth of yours with my cock."

You moaned at that, grinding shamelessly against his hand. Riki chuckled and quickly undid your jeans buttons and hooked his gingers in your waistband, yanking down your pants and underwear all at once. He parted your fold with his pointed finger, humming appreciatively.

"You're drenched, baby," he whispered against your ear. Then suddenly, wasting no time, he pushed two fingers inside you, curling them up. You yelped. "I know, I know. But I have to work you open before you can take my cock, and we don't have time."

You moaned as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. You bit your lip hard, knowing you could let any loud sounds out, but the way his long fingers pumped in and out felt so good you almost moaned louder.

He could feel you getting even wetter around his fingers, but he knew it wasn't enough. He added a third finger, knuckles deep, hitting your sweet spot over and over.

"Oh, fuck," you moaned, tears prickling at your eyes from pleasure as your gripped the table so hard your knuckles were turning white.

He kept scissoring you open, hitting deep thrust with his fingers, his thumb presing against your clit, rubbing circled around it. Your vision started to blur. "Fuck, look at you baby. Taking my fingers so well."

You bucked your hips against his hand, your walls already clenching around his fingers. His fingers stilled for a moment, feeling your walls clamp down on his fingers, and he could only think about how good you'll feel around his cock. "God," He muttered before leaning close, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered roughly, "Already so desperate for my cock, aren't you?"

You had no shame left, and you don't know what happened between earlier and now, but your mind was fuzzy and dizzy. You just nodded desperately, bucking your hips again to make him move.

He chuckled lowly, and pulled his fingers out abruptly. He couldn't deny his throbbing cock in his pants any longer, or the zipper might rip. You whimpered at the loss of contact, your skin covered with sweat. He immediately unbuckled his belt and pulled down his pants and boxers in one swift motion. "Please, tell me you're on the pill."

You nodded and he exhaled, "Thank God," he muttered, grabbing your thighs and opening them further, positioning himself between your legs. You both hissed when he pushed the head inside you. His eyes fluttered shut, and he took a deep breath. You felt so good, he thought he could almost come right here and there.

He pushed inside, inch by inch, and you felt every vein of his shaft. Your head was thrown back in pleasure, and you bit your lip, your eyes rolling back. after felt like forever, he bottomed out. he had to brace himself, his hands on either side of your hips on the table, as his lips placed soft kisses to your cleavage.

He gave you a bit of time to adjust to his size, but when you put your hand on his shoulder, he lifted his head to look at you. Your lips were swollen and red, your hair disheveled and your cheeks flushed, and it was the most beautiful and hottest sight he's ever seen. You nodded slowly, informing him you were ready.

He let his instincts take control then. He grabbed your hip, hard enough to leave marks, before pulling out almost all the way and thrusting back hard. You had to muffle your moans with your hand as he set a ruthless pace, his thrusts hard and fast. "Fuck, you're so tight,"

With his hard rhythm, your breath was bouncing underneath his shirt. He quickly put it off your body alongside his shirt and jacket, throwing them carelessly on the floor. It was so risky, but you were both so gone you didn't care anymore. he squeezed and pinched your nipples as he continued to pound into you. "Look at those perfect tits, damn."

You were crying out into your hand, and the sight almost broke him. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, hooking them over his elbow and pulled one of your leg up so he could go deeper, the new angle making you see stars, eyes rolling back.

He leaned so he could bite your neck, still careful not to leave any marks, because one he knew you'd kill him, though you were so gone right now he knew he could do whatever he wanted. and second, because your stylist and manager would probably kill you, and he couldn't let you get in troubles because of him.

Your walls tighten around him, gripping him like a vice and he cursed under his breath. "Shit, I'm gonna come if you keep squeezing me like that," he said breathlessly.

You could only moan against your mouth at his words, your mind filled with pleasure and already gone. He replaced your hand with his, clamping it down on your mouth, as he smirked when you moaned against his mouth. His thrust became erratic, his free hand digging into your hip. "That's right, baby," he whispered in your ear. "Can't even think straight right now, can you?"

Your brain was getting fuzzy as your walls clenched around him so hard he could hardly move. You looked at him, eyes glossy with tears. He cursed loudly and his thrust became uncoordinated.

You came hard around him, your face contorted in pleasure as you let out a broken moan. Your eyes rolled back, your back arching, and drooling against his hand, this was the most beautiful sight he's ever witnessed. The look of pure bliss on your face was one he would never forget and would engrave in his memory forever.

He burried his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his own groans and he felt tipping closer over the edge. He was gonna pull out, but your legs wrapped against his waist. He looked into your eyes and when you nodded, he came inside you with a low moan.

You were both panting, and he was still burried inside you. The trailer was silent except for your heavy breathing. You leaned back against the table, your cheeks flushed, your chest rising and falling rapidly. Riki stood in front of you, his hands resting on the edge of the table on either side of your hips, trapping her in place. His hair was disheveled, and his skin flushed and sweaty.

You both stared at each other for a moment, the weight of what had just happened settling between you. Your lips were still slightly swollen, your eyes wide and filled with a mix of emotions—confusion, panic, and something else you couldn’t quite place.

Riki, on the other hand, looked more composed. He straightened up slightly, carefully pulling out, running a hand through his hair as he tried to catch his breath. “You okay?” he asked softly, his voice low and filled with concern.

You nodded quickly, avoiding his gaze. “Yeah. I’m fine,” she said, though your voice wavered slightly.

“Here,” Riki said, grabbing a tissue from a nearby box and cleaning you up before passing you your disheveled clothes. He was so gentle when he cleaned you up, and he also cleaned the table since some of the mix of both of your cum fell onto it.

You then both got dressed silently. When you were both dressed, Riki grabbed another tissue and stepped closer, his fingers brushing against your chin as he gently wiped a smudge of makeup from your cheek. “Hold still,” he murmured, his tone softer than before.

You froze under his touch, your heart pounding again—not from what had just happened, but from the tenderness in his gesture. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” Riki interrupted, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment before he focused on the task at hand. “You look… shaken up. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I said I’m fine,” you replied quickly, though your cheeks burned under his gaze.

Riki stepped back slightly, giving you space as he nodded. “Okay. But if you’re not… you can tell me.”

You glanced at him briefly, your chest tightening at the sincerity in his voice. “I know,” she said softly.

As he leaned against the table, clearly trying to find the right words to say, your phone buzzed loudly on the counter where you'd left it earlier. The sudden sound made both of you jump slightly.

You grabbed it quickly, your fingers fumbling as you unlocked the screen. Your heart sank when you saw the text from Jongseob.

[Jongseob] I don't know where the fuck are you, but I have to go home. Early photoshoot tomorrow. Your manager's on his way to pick you up. Call me when you can.

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, your eyes widening as you quickly typed a response.

Riki tilted his head, watching you with a mix of curiosity and concern. “What is it?”

“It’s Jongseob,” you said, your voice clipped. You shoved your phone into your pocket and straightened your shirt hastily. “He left already. I need to go.”

“Wait,” Riki said, stepping in front of you to block your path. “Can we… talk about this first?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you replied quickly, your tone sharper than you intended. You avoided his gaze as you grabbed your bag from the chair nearby.

“Nothing to talk about?” Riki repeated, his tone incredulous. “Yn, we just—”

“I know,” you cut him off, your voice quieter now, though the urgency was still there. “It was a mistake, and it can't happen again. I'll...I'll see you later.”

Before Riki could say another word, you brushed past him and slipped out of the trailer, leaving him standing alone in the dimly lit space. The door clicked shut behind you, and the silence that followed was deafening.

He let out a long breath, raking a hand through his hair as he leaned back against the table. His mind raced with everything that had just happened, and the way you had left so abruptly only added to the confusion swirling in his chest.

“Of course she’d run,” he muttered to himself, a wry smile tugging at his lips as he stared at the closed door. But the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

He grabbed a tissue from the box and wiped his hands absently, his gaze unfocused. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between you—something he wasn’t sure could ever go back to the way it was.

Outside the trailer, you leaned against it, trying to catch your breath as you could hardly feel your legs. "What the hell just happened?" you whispered to yourself.

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TAGLIST: @pkjay @d-dilemma @heartheejake @lunaritex @dreeki @inishij @rikirritated @whoiss4m @sleepyxxhead @aanniikkaa @right-person-wrong-time @aespaqq @starry-eyed-bimbo @nerdywitchcrown @yuniesluv @lovestruck-sky @ariluvssssss100 @rei4sunoo @wildtigerlili @jakef3ver @seungminsapuppy @kittsnewera @regalfox @rairaiblog @pairinnn

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self-made-purgatories · 6 months ago

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Feeling trapped, crisis of the self, and the hidden meaning of Spock's two steepled fingers: Thinking once again about this particular hand posture of Spock's and what it means in the kolinahr scene specifically (Part 3 of my thoughts about TMP, this time connected to themes in Plato's Stepchildren).

The first time I noticed Spock using this hand posture was in Plato's Stepchildren, and I wrote previously about how this seemed to me like a very specific self-soothing gesture for Autistic!Spock.

In this instance in Plato's Stepchildren, he is in deep distress over the events of the previous scene, and while, as always, he is doing a fairly good job of maintaining his outward composure, he is completely spiraling internally here, as evidence by the way his very next action is to stand up and crush a cup in his bare hand out of rage and overwhelm.

The way he is holding his hands, each with two fingers extended, reminds me so much of the way his parents hold hands with two fingers extended, and to me it looks like a form of comfort stimming that probably feels very soothing to him, like holding his own hand.

Now, fast forward to TMP, and this is the first glance we have of Spock as he is about to undertake kolinahr and completely purge himself of any remaining emotion or connection. Notice that the hand posture is the same.

My theory is this: in this key moment, just as in Plato's Stepchildren, Spock is distressed. He is overwhelmed. He is spiraling internally. He feels he has something to prove and he is desperately trying to want this, to need this. He is trying so hard to get "a good grade in Vulcan-ness, something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve!" But it's not actually what he needs or wants. It's not actually where he belongs. And, deep down, he knows it. So he holds his own hand for comfort through those feelings.

Let's contrast that hand posture with something similar that we see later in the same movie, after Spock has returned to the Enterprise, but is still acting very cold and distant.

This is a tense moment, in which the ship (and the crew) have purposely breached the cloud surrounding V'ger. One of their crew has just been forcefully abducted by V'ger, from the bridge, mere feet away, and the ship is now being pulled in further, against their will, by V'ger's tractor beam. Decker suggests they attempt to break free, and Spock responds: "Break free to where, Commander? (folds his hands) Any show of resistance would be futile, Captain."

In this case, when he folds his hands together, he only extends one finger of each hand, steepling his forefingers. His other fingers twitch nervously for several seconds, but he never steeples his middle fingers too.

In comparing and contrasting these three hand posture moments, there is a key similarity and a key difference that we should notice.

First, to compare. In all three of these moments, Spock feels trapped. The first and last are obvious: in the first, he is literally trapped by the telekinetics in Plato's Stepchildren, unable to leave, recovering from being forced to act in an embarrassing and potentially violent way in the prior scene, and facing the fear of being forced into that situation again. In the third, he is trapped with the crew by V'ger and suddenly realizing that there is no means of escape.

But, in the second one, the kolinahr one, it's not so obvious. My theory is that Spock feels equally trapped in this situation. Trapped by the unattainable expectations of his culture as a mixed-race person attempting to assimilate. Trapped by his own decision to run away from his love for Kirk, to reject the love of his friends, and to abandon not just his life in Starfleet, but his life as an individual capable of love and connection. Now he is moments away from achieving kolinahr and instead of feeling relieved or accomplished or inspired, he is feeling trapped. So he holds his own hand to comfort himself.

But what about the differences? What is common between the first two that is not in the third? What earns that second finger? Spock's crisis of the self.

In Plato's Stepchildren, Spock is grappling with seeing himself as violent for the first time. He has spent his whole life attempting to purge emotion from himself, specifically in the name of purging the violence of his ancestors, but the telekinetic Platonians came very close to forcing him to hurt Kirk, the man he loves. He is now feeling rage and hatred towards them for making him act that way, and this uncharacteristic rage is not just contributing to that trapped feeling, it is also giving him a further crisis of the self.

Someone (@mama-mia-its-mia) brought up Plato's Stepchildren in the notes on one of my previous posts on the Spirk breakup arc, which got me thinking more about that episode and what it means for Spirk's fight and Spock's internal crisis in the later episodes of Season 3. I do think that the most irreversible damage to Spirk's relationship happens in Requiem for Methuselah. But he faces a related crisis of the self in Plato's Stepchildren, a few episodes prior. Could this crisis ("My love for Kirk has awakened violent feelings in me") be the first crack in the glass for Spock? Is that crisis the very first stumble on the slippery slope into later trying to force himself into kolinahr? And could those feelings somehow be related to the song he sings later in that episode about how dangerous it is to love a man? (A song which he sings while staring at Kirk the whole time, mind you.)

He sings to the women of how the man you love "leaves with your treasure." At first blush, it's a sexual reference. But what if Spock's treasure is his composure, his nonviolence, but he is realizing that his love for Kirk is upsetting that fragile balance within himself?

The third instance, however, with only one pair of steepled fingers, is not a crisis of the self. It is merely that trapped feeling. Distress, yes. But not a crisis of identity. So the middle fingers stay down.

Which brings us back to the second time, moments before kolinahr. Spock is not only feeling trapped, he is again asking the question he once asked when forced to face a rising feeling of violence and hatred in himself: Is this really what I am?

That will still be the same question he is asking later, when he extends his mind to meet V'ger's and finally learns the answer he has been looking for his whole life.

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vettelsvee · 8 months ago

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GOODBYES ARE BITTERSWEET | Sebastian Vettel ✩₊˚.⋆ PART 5: I'LL NEVER LEAVE... NEVER MIND [PREVIOUS PART] [NEXT PART]

goodbyes are bittersweet masterlist | wattpad f1 masterlist | ao3 | ask anything or let's talk!

ferrari sebastian vettel x ex gf!female reader

word count: 4437

summary: after not seeing each other in almost five years, seb and y/n finally meet with just one purpose for her: telling seb they have a 4 year old daughter. will y/n be able to tell him?

warnings: mentions of sex. i think nothing else but i literally cried while writing this. i recommend that you listen to loml by taylor swift while reading this hehe

taglist: [ @saltycomicsanimalssalad @hc-dutch @mycenterfold @simplyamberj @spitesfvl-blog @jaydaaasworld @lottalove4evelyn @zoeyjadetice2010 @jehun @ferralari @cosmoscoffeee @mcmuppet @myescapefromthislife @sleutherclaw @youre-on-your-ownkid ]

a/n: i'm finally back! sorry you had to wait this long to get a new chapter but writers block had me going like crazy, as well as my mental health in general. i had something else planned for today BUT be aware of what I'm posting tomorrow since you might like it! christmas is coming soon and i have a surprise ready for you. let me remind you that feedback and reposts are truly appreciated. and also comment me your thoughts and theories on the story pls! missed you so much guys, thank you for everything, love you all <3

May 15th Heppenheim, Germany

“Y/N, remember that you need to be careful with what you say to Seb. I know you want to tell him about Emily, but also consider whether today is the right time. Imagine if…”

You stop listening to Hanna the moment her lips utter your daughter’s name. Instead, your mind started creating a thousand different scenarios about what could happen when you saw your ex-boyfriend today. Your gaze remained fixed on the mirror in your room.

You only returned home five days ago, but it felt like an eternity.

You knew perfectly well why, or rather, you knew perfectly well who was to blame for your distorted sense of time: Sebastian Vettel, of course.

The trip to London felt like a fresh start. While the main reason to go was your meeting with Capital Records to discuss what your near future might hold, you considered it as an opportunity to rethink what you wanted to do with your life from now on.

You had just turned 30, and the only thing you longed for was to start this new decade with a clean slate in every possible way. That, of course, included facing your past mistakes and recognizing your faults, one of which you might be about to commit today.

Hanna acted as some sort of mediator between you and Seb because, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t bring yourself to send him even the simplest of messages. The driver seemed to understand, as he told Hanna not to worry, that he understood, and that all you needed to do was show up without standing him up.

Despite having agreed to meet at your house, you decided to dress up a little to present yourself in the best way possible. After spending far more time than you’d like to admit choosing what to wear, you settled on a light blue knee-length dress and white Converse sneakers, with a bracelet your daughter made (or better said your mother made, just Emily took credit for).

"Y/N, are you even listening to me?"

The reflection of your best friend in the mirror startled you. You turned towards her, trying to maintain the calm you’ve lacked since returning from London. Exactly five days that have felt like five years.

Like the five years since you last saw Seb.

"Hey, cat got your tongue or what?" insisted the blonde. "Seriously, Y/N, I want you to be speechless, but preferably when you and Seb take the conversation from the couch to the bed and he makes you scream his name again just like he used to do when..."

"Hanna, for God's sake, shut up! Seb and I are only going to talk about..."

"I know, I know, I was just trying to make you laugh. You know I like to..."

Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

If you were restless before, pacing back and forth in your room, checking that there was no trace of Emily in the house for Seb to find, now you were frozen like a statue.

You looked at Hanna, and she looked back at you. You shrugged, but Hanna just put her exaggeratedly unfriendly faces.

"Hanna, no..."

"It's Seb, Y/N! It's just Seb, for heaven's sake," she interrupted, and you cut her off just as fast.

"It's the Seb I haven't seen in five years!" you stammered, feeling the anxiety taking over. "Seriously, Hanna, this was a very, very bad idea. I don’t even know why I asked you to tell him to come and..."

"Because he's the father of your daughter, and your only goal is to tell him!" she yelled, trying not to raise her voice too much but failing miserably. You hoped to God Vettel didn’t hear that.

"Hanna..."

"Since I know you're not going to open the door, I'll do it myself. Stay here or come down, do whatever you want, but I'll tell Seb to come find you because clearly, you can't handle welcoming your guest," she declared.

Without saying anything else, she strided out of your room. You could only follow her, practically tripping down the stairs, legs trembling like a teenager on her first date. Your pulse was pounding in your temples, while your mind kept screaming at your body to calm down.

As soon as you stepped onto the ground floor, you saw Hanna opening the door. Her cheerful voice broke the silence, asking Seb how he was and, to your surprise, inviting him in.

You inched closer, not quite enough for them to notice you. Then you stopped, inspecting Seb from head to toe, as if you didn't already know every inch of his body by heart. Even though you were used to seeing him on TV and social media daily, it felt like you haven’t seen him in all this time you’ve been out of touch. He was wearing a slightly worn-out white t-shirt and jeans. His hair was perfectly trimmed, though a bit longer on top, and his beard, probably several days old, was what caught your attention the most, looking just the way you liked it.

But what really captivated you was the bouquet of yellow tulips he was holding, just like he used to bring you for dates or whenever it was a special day for either of you back when you were dating.

You swallowed hard, guilt washing over you as you thought, for a fleeting moment, about him handing you a flower bouquet before you told him you were having his baby.

"Hi..."

You thought your whisper was too soft to be heard, but it was quite the opposite.

Both Seb and Hanna turned to look at each other, then focused on you, still standing in the entryway. Your best friend tensed up slightly, but you tried to reassure her with a slight movement of your hands. The expression on your ex-boyfriend’s face seemed to light up at your small intervention, even if it was minimal.

“Well, Seb, I'll leave you with Y/N. I have a few errands to run…” Your friend tried to excuse herself, though both of you knew it wasn’t true. “See you later for a drink guys!

She winked and quickly slipped out, shutting the door behind her before either of you could even say goodbye.

Now, it was just the two of you, alone.

Seb looked at you again, and you couldn’t help it but get lost in the blue of his eyes. The situation felt strange. You used to cherish every moment of being alone together, but now you didn’t even know how to say a simple "hello."

You once trusted him completely, and now you were unsure whether to offer him a drink or tell him that you have a four-year-old daughter.

“Hi, sunshine,” he said, breaking the silence.

“Hi, Seb.”

He took a step towards you, slowly moving closer. You noticed how his gaze shifted from the flowers to your eyes, as if he was searching for some kind of answer from you. His eyes reflected a mixture of nervousness and tenderness, stirring a whirlwind of emotions inside you.

He didn’t have to say it, you could see it in his eyes. He was afraid of how you’d react to this gesture, this little detail that used to drive you crazy, but now… you didn’t know how to feel about it.

You, on the other hand, were utterly stunned.

How, after all this time and how cold you ended things, could he still do this? How could he still remember?

“These... are for you,” he finally said, his voice low and shaky. He handed you the bouquet, his hands trembling.

You met his gaze, and the way he looked at you was filled with fear, insecurity, and maybe, just maybe, a bit of tenderness. He didn’t need to say it out loud because you knew him too well. He was afraid of how you’d react to this gesture.

“Thank you,” you managed to say, taking your time to smell the flowers.

You couldn’t hold it in. Tears began to blur your vision, and a wave of embarrassment washed over you.

He noticed. Even though you didn’t want to, even though you didn’t feel capable of getting close enough to give him a kiss on the cheek or maybe even a hug, Seb did it anyway.

“It's okay, Y/N,” he whispered. “It’s okay...”

But it wasn’t okay… it was far from okay.

Sebastian Vettel was here, once again, standing in front of you, and possibly back in your life. The boy you once considered your best friend, the best friend you fell in love with, the driver you always supported, and most importantly, the father of your child, was back in your life in such an unexpected way that it still felt surreal.

“I don’t know...” you tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out. “It feels surreal that after everything, after such an empty goodbye, here we are, together again,” you confessed. “It’s weird seeing you in front of me in the flesh and not as pixels on a screen.”

“Y/N…”

“I’ve missed you, Seb. So much.”

You knew your honesty didn’t catch him by surprise, because he felt the same way. That’s what hurt the most.

“I missed you too, Y/N. I really did...” he said after a moment, wrapping his arms around you, and you pressed your face against his chest.

“Seb…”

“Don’t overthink it, really,” he interrupted gently. “I’m not here to talk about the past or blame anyone,” he paused, letting out a breath before continuing. “I just want us to go back to who we were before we were together. But, if I’m being honest, we’ve been in love with each other for so long that I can’t remember a time when you weren’t my everything.”

Your lips trembled. The weight of his words was too much for you to handle, at least today, in a first encounter where you haven’t even spent ten minutes together.

You felt awful. You felt shattered inside knowing that if you were in this situation, it was because of you.

“Well, Y/N, tell me…”

“No, no,” you quickly interrupted, grabbing his arm and guiding him to sit on the couch. Immediately after, you rushed to the kitchen to grab the drinks and snacks you spent all morning preparing. “You tell me first. Even though I’ve seen you on TV, I know you’re very private about your life, you know... You never share anything with the media, and well, you don’t even have social media so… How are you?”

He let out a short laugh as he picked up a bottle of water and a cheese-and-salmon toast.

“Well, to be honest, I’m doing much better than when you left me,” he revealed. It didn’t surprise you. After all, it was what you expected him to say. “You must have had your reasons for breaking up with me, and after all these years, I’m not going to ask why you did it. But I won’t lie to you… you left me shattered, Y/N.”

“Seb, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“I know,” he cut in softly, making a gentle gesture with his hand to calm you down. “Like I said, I’m not looking for an explanation or an apology. I just want you to know how I felt. Mentally… damn, Y/N, you broke me, and I completely lost myself, but at the same time, that’s what gave me the strength to win the championship in 2013,” he looked away from your eyes, shifting his gaze to the wall. Nervously, he started playing with his fingers. “All I could think about was you and that, maybe, there was a chance you were watching...”

“Of course I was, Seb,” you said softly, trying to hold back the tears and keep your composure. “No matter what happened, I never stopped watching or supporting you. I’ve always been, and will always be, your number one fan.”

He nodded, a bittersweet expression crossing his face.

“That year, everything I did was with the thought in mind that you were watching and, somehow, it helped me move forward. But… 2014 was when everything fell apart,” he admitted. “Red Bull wasn’t the same anymore, or at least, I didn’t feel the same way. I wasn’t winning, Daniel was beating me… I felt like I had lost everything, including you and, with time, I started to feel like I had no reason to stay with the team or maybe even in Formula 1. Until Ferrari offered me the contract.”

You remembered it like it was yesterday. Unlike any regular sports fan, you found out through Heike when you were out for a walk with Emily.

“When I was given the chance to sign with Ferrari in 2015... Y/N, really, that’s when I realized it wasn’t the end. That’s what I needed to move forward. I think I mentioned it to you on WhatsApp, but I don’t know if you remember…”

You swallowed hard. Of course, you remembered. He told you just before the news became public, before his mum told you, but you didn’t know how to answer him or if you really should do it. The demons in your head made you think it was a joke, even just an excuse to get closer to you. And you also felt that if he did sign with Ferrari, it would open a door you had closed because you weren’t ready to face the truth.

Just like you were doing now.

“I remember, yes,” you murmured, unable to look him in the eyes.

“When I didn’t get a reply from you I decided not to push it. That’s when I realized you didn’t want anything to do with me. Yet I kept sending you stuff as you might know…”

“That’s not it…” You could barely speak. You were as broken as he was. “I read the message, Seb, but… I burst into tears and didn’t have the strength to reply. I didn’t want to give you false hope when I wasn’t ready to… I didn’t want to hurt you more than I already had,” you confessed. “I knew that if I spoke to you again, I’d hurt you again. And I’d hurt myself too. I couldn’t do that to you, Seb.”

He nodded, looking for some kind of affirmation in your gaze.

“At first, I felt really out of place on the team, you know? And I felt that way for a long time,” he revealed. “It was completely out of my comfort zone, and I felt like I’d never fit in. But little by little, Kimi, Maurizio, and the team made me feel like family. It’s strange to think about it now, but I can’t imagine being with any team other than Ferrari.” You agreed with him, from what you had seen on TV, it was clear he felt that way. “Fighting for the world title with them this year and having a real shot at beating Mercedes… I never thought I’d get to this point.”

You looked at him with a mix of admiration and nostalgia. This was the Seb you knew, the Seb with ambition, who always desired more and more. The Seb who never gave up.

The Seb who didn’t break down, even when he had every reason to.

“I’m so proud of you, Seb. I’ve always been, and I always will be. Don’t forget that.”

“Of course, Y/N,” he looked uncomfortable. Quite a bit, actually. “Well… enough about me. You know I don’t like talking about myself… What about you? What have you been up to all this time? My mom told me a bit, and I’ve seen you a few times, but…”

More than not knowing what to say, you sensed he didn’t want to intrude too much into your life.

You swallowed, trying not to get more nervous than you already were, because now, you supposed, was the moment to tell him about Emily.

“Well, not much has changed, really,” you started, unsure of what to say. “I’ve been in Heppenheim the whole time, except for a couple of trips to Berlin, but nothing unusual,” you tried to smile, but your mind kept circling around the fact that you had to tell him you had a daughter. “I’ve been working at the bar and writing music. To be honest, since we broke up I’ve had a lot more inspiration.”

And since I gave birth to Emily, you thought.

Seb didn’t say anything. You figured he understood. After all, he had thrown himself into his career to cope, while you had poured your emotions into writing songs about the story you shared to cope with grief.

“Now things have changed a bit,” you continued, trying to sound more upbeat to push away the painful memories. “Ever since Red went viral… I swear, I uploaded it without expecting anything, but the reaction…”

“The song is amazing, Y/N. Of course it went viral.”

“I’ve been offered a record deal,” you blurted out. “A few years ago, I met Niall Horan at the bar. You know, the guy who was on that band, One Direction…” Seb nodded, his eyes wide, encouraging you to continue. “He told me he was traveling to find some inspiration for his solo career, and I guess Heppenheim seemed like a good place for him to visit.”

“Wait, wait… a record deal?”

“Apparently, Niall told his label that I was the voice behind Red, and, well… Capital Records offered me a contract,” you explained. “They called me to have a meeting in London, which is why we couldn’t meet up last time…”

His face was calm, unreadable, though his mouth had curved into a big smile. He didn’t seem surprised, and you knew there was a strong chance Hanna had told him everything.

If that was true…

“I hope you accepted, Y/N.”

“Well… actually, I didn’t. I turned it down.”

His smile faded for a moment, and his expression became completely serious.

“You turned it down? Why? Sunshine, this is an opportunity…”

“Yes, I know it’s an amazing opportunity, but I can’t accept it. Not right now.”

You figured this was the moment you should tell him the real reason behind rejecting such a big deal, which included a tour if you sold a certain amount of CDs.

Sebastian kept staring at you, which only made you more nervous. You tried to gather your thoughts, searching for the right way to tell him you had a four-year-old daughter, but you couldn’t find the moment.

You couldn’t just drop it on him now, after all, this was your first real conversation in almost five years.

“Y/N, darling…”

“I can’t take the risk when the only thing I’ve managed is to get one song out of all the ones I sent to the label to go viral,” you half-lied. It was true that you didn’t want to talk about it yet, but you were also insecure about your music. “As much as I’d love to have an album, to fill stadiums and have people singing along to my songs, I can’t take that risk.”

“But, Y/N…”

“I’m not sure all the songs on the album would be successful, Seb.”

“Y/N, you have no idea what you’re going to regret if you let this go....”

“No, Seb, I know exactly what I’m doing, really,” you shook your head, firm in your decision. “This is the best thing for me.”

And for Emily too, though you didn’t say that out loud.

Seb remained silent for longer than you would have liked, as if trying to process what you’d just told him. Then, he stood up, crouching down to your level, and taking your hands in his, he said:

“Alright. If you think your songs aren’t good enough, sing one of them to me.”

“What?” you asked, confused.

“If you turned down the record deal because you think your songs aren’t good enough for the world to hear, sing one of them to me.”

His tone, though calm, was direct and insistent.

“Seb… I can’t. I’m too embarrassed,” you laughed nervously.

“Come on, Y/N,” he said, gently rubbing your hands with his thumbs, just like he always did when your anxiety was at its worst. “It’s just me. I’m still the same after all these years.”

You sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to let it go until you gave in. It was Seb, and he always got what he wanted from you, even when you didn’t want to. In the end, you gave in, carefully standing up from the couch and heading towards the piano at the back of the room, gesturing for him to follow you.

You carefully slided the bench back, lifting the lid as you sat down. You positioned your hands, starting to play the first few chords to warm up, ensuring your memory flawlessly recalled the piece.

“This is song number 5, like your driver number... It's called loml.”

You continued playing, finally giving way to the song.

Who's gonna stop us from waltzing Back into rekindled flames? If we know the steps anyway We embroidered the memories Of the time I was away Stitching, ‘We were just kids, babe.’ I said, ‘I don't mind, it takes time.’ I thought I was better safe than starry-eyed I felt aglow like this Never before and never since.

Your voice shook as you began to sing, but you kept going, holding on to what your ex-boyfriend had told you about how he knew it was about him. As you settled into the song, you started feeling more comfortable, just like you did when you used to sing for Seb. Though you couldn’t look at him because you were absorbed in the key, your fingers delicately moving over it, you could feel his eyes on you.

You shit-talked me under the table Talking rings and talking cradles I wish I could un-recall How we almost had it all Dancing phantoms on the terrace Are they second-hand embarrassed That I can't get out of bed? Cause something counterfeit's dead.

Tears started falling from your eyes as you approached the final part of the song. Memories of your shared history flashed through your mind like a movie. Your vision was completely blurred, and you felt a tightness in your chest that was overwhelming, making it hard to breathe, almost impossible to keep singing. Somehow, though, you fought to hold it together, just as you did the day you said goodbye to the man now sitting beside you.

Oh, what a valiant roar What a bland goodbye The coward claimed he was a lion I'm combing through the braids of lies ‘I’ll never leave’... ‘Never mind.’ Our field of dreams, engulfed in fire Your arson matches your somber eyes And I'll still see it until I die You're the loss of my life.

Silence filled the room as you played the final notes. With your hands still resting on the keyboard, you looked at Seb. Once again, you didn’t know what to say to him, and you knew he didn't either. He was motionless, running a hand through his hair, probably trying to process what he just heard.

Y/Ni, this song... it’s about us, isn’t it?”

“It might be,” you admited, unable to lie to him, at least not about this.

He sighed. You could tell he was affected; you knew it the moment his tears began to form, just as yours continued to flow.

“You should rethink the contract,” he said firmly. “This song deserves to be heard by more than just me, your parents, and Hanna.”

“I can’t, Seb. I just can’t…”

“Can I sit next to you?”

You looked up and saw him gesturing to the bench. Confused, not sure what to do or say, you shifted a little, making space, and he sat beside you. Seb didn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around you, offering a comfort that felt wonderful but also caused you to crumble a bit more inside.

You surprised yourself by resting your head on his shoulder.

“Why are you so determined to convince yourself you don’t deserve this opportunity?” His tone was soft, just like the way he stroked your hair. “Do you really think you're not good enough to be a successful singer?”

“It’s not about being good enough, it’s that I’m not,” you whisper,ed your throat tightening. “I’m not a good person, Seb, and it’s only a matter of time before I screw up again and hurt someone, just like I hurt you.”

“Does this… have something to do with the second date in your YouTube channel username?”

You stood your head up, staring at him in confusion while trying not to panic.

“What are you talking about?”

“Your username,” he repeated, moving closer. “I figured out that the numbers represent two dates. I know for sure that one of them is June 15, 2006, the day we started dating, but the other one… I don’t know what January 12, 2014 means for you because we weren’t talking by then, but it must be important. And based on what you just said…”

Your eyes widened in shock. You were paralyzed, not knowing how to react.

How could he have noticed something so… insignificant? How had he connected the dots and figured out the dates you had in mind when you created that account?

You thought this would be the perfect moment to tell him that the second date marks the birth of your daughter, the daughter you had together; that on that day, while you were in labor, he was at the hospital waiting for some exams results and he was talking to your dad, who couldn’t contain his excitement about his granddaughter’s arrival and had to keep it a secret from him.

But you couldn’t. Not yet. You need to regain his trust first. You and Seb needed to rebuild the kind of relationship you had before you became the love of each other’s lives.

“Seb…” you trailed off, unable to continue. “I swear, on everything that matters to you, I’ll tell you, but right now… I just can’t.”

He looked at you for a few seconds that felt like an eternity. You knew him better than you knew yourself, and you knew he was persistent, that he needed an answer, but you also knew he was respectful and wouldn't push you.

“That’s okay,” he said finally, a bit resigned. “I understand, it’s fine. I’m not asking you to tell me now if you’re not ready, but I want you to know that when you are, I’ll be here to listen.”

You looked at him, grateful, and nodded without saying anything else.

You both sat at the piano bench for a while, in silence, listening only to the sound of your breathing and the melody of the song replaying in your mind, as intrusive thoughts overwhelmed you.

“If I waited almost 19 years of my life to be your boyfriend, I can wait a little longer, it doesn’t matter the time you need, for you to tell me,” Seb finally spoke, and his words broke you a little more than you already were. “Let’s be friends again, what do you think?” he offered, giving you a small smile. “Let’s take things slowly, like maybe we should have done when we first started dating. You know…”

“Slowly, no problem,” you repeated, smiling back at him.

You felt a weight lift from your shoulders at his words. Maybe you were not at the peak of your relationship, and maybe you’d never got back there, but at least you were working together to turn your story into something new.

“You know what, Y/N? I’ve always felt like our story wasn’t over. I don’t just mean that romantically, but in a broader sense,” he said quickly. “We have a whole lot of history, and now is when we’re going to start writing our second book.”

“I know, Seb. I’ve been thinking the same thing ever since I said goodbye to you,” you confess. “That day, goodbyes were bittersweet, but I knew it wasn’t the end and that I’d see you again.”

Before the year ends. I’m telling Seb Emily is her daughter before December 31st.

199 notes · View notes

iwantmyprizepet · 22 days ago

Text

𝒱𝒶𝓃𝒾𝓈𝒽 ℐ𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝒴𝑜𝓊 - 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵 9/?

Summary: We got angst. We got tension. We got greek salads. We got a little bit of spice. We got it all in this chapter baby.

18+

A/N: I apologize for the false hope of an earlier release specifically to you dear anon. I pushed through to get this out today just for you. My life is like a tornado right now 😅. If any mistakes linger, please forgive me for I am weary lol. - Mich :)

Word Count: 11.6k

AO3 Previous Part Next Part

My Royal Taglist: @morgananyx @6stolenangel9 @ahintofchaos @coffeemelko @xblinkx2

////

I was so ready to be closed the week of Christmas. Saturday down, Sunday to go.

I greeted Janice with a gift bag when she walked in Sunday morning.

“Why have you gotten me something?” She dramatically asked shaking her head.

I laughed at the sight of her holding two gift bags in her right hand. “And who are those gifts for?” I asked, eyebrows raised knowing they were most definitely for Chloe and I.

“Hush.” Her smile was showing wide now, not an often occurrence.

“I’ll just leave it right over here you grinch.” I joked setting her gift on the bench under the coat rack.

There was still fifteen minutes until open after Janice arrived so I decided to call Agatha.

She answered after three rings. “Good morning, darling.”

Oh, this woman.

“Morning, I hope I’m not bothering you.”

“Impossible.”

I laughed, fingers fiddling with a pen. “I’ll test that theory. I was wondering if you were free later? I mean I know we were together last night so no big deal at all if you’re busy or don’t wanna see me.”

She cut me off. “Again, impossible. I am free for you.”

I could listen to her talk forever.

“I had an idea I wanted to run past you.”

“Go ahead.” I could hear the smile on her words.

I started pacing under my nerves. “I haven’t asked yet so if you don’t want to just say so and we’ll do something else, but I was wondering if you’d maybe like to go grab some drinks with Chloe and Brooks?” A silence settled over the call. I was about to say something else when she finally spoke up.

“I’m not sure Chloe is my biggest fan. I’d wager a guess her boyfriend would be in the same boat.” Her tone was calm and cool. In a way like she was trying to show it didn’t effect her.

“Oh, sweetie.” It slipped out so naturally causing a panic to shoot through me. I moved on quick to try and divert from it. “They aren’t mad about that. Really, I need you to totally forget about that stupid Christmas party. Everything is okay.”

More silence hung from her end.

I continued. “It’s okay. We’ll do something else. I’m not even sure they’re free. Maybe we can plan something after the holiday. I’m sorry I’m not trying to push you.” More silence had my shoulders tensing. “Agatha?”

My mind was racing. Was she quiet because I called her sweetie? Was it because of asking to go out with them? Oh god what if she thought I meant it specifically as a double date.

Finally, her voice filled the line. “If they say yes, I’ll go.”

All the air that had collected in my lungs rushed out at her response.

“Are you sure?” Chloe popped in from the back with a wave right as I asked Agatha.

“I’m positive.” Her voice still seemed off but not as strained as it had been.

“I promise you they are the nicest people in the world. They won’t say anything to make you feel bad about the party. You have my word, and if they do I will not let it slide.” I made sure every word held an assurance on how serious I was.

“My hero.” She drawled it out in a teasing way.

I smiled with a laugh. “I have to go. I’ll text you in a bit okay?”

“I’ll be waiting.”

The usual flutter she sent through me erupted. “Bye.” “Have a good day, darling.”

“You too.”

With that she hung up.

A couple of hours passed with a steadiness before I decided to ask Chloe.

“Chlo, you guys free tonight?” I asked it casually as she walked back over from dropping a cup off at a table.

“I think so. What do you have in mind?” She bounced over leaning back opposite me on the counter. “Did you want to move presents to later?”

We’d planned on brunch tomorrow to exchange gifts between the three of us.

“No, I’m still on for that.” I paused trying to ignore the nerves. “I’m hanging with Agatha later. Wanted to know if you guys wanted to go get drinks with us?”

Maybe she and Brooks did hate Agatha now. I felt panicked at the idea that they wouldn’t see how great she is all because of one stupid miscommunication.

“I’m down. I’ll ask Brooks.” Chloe acted as if it was a totally normal request. Like we’d done it countless times before.

I laughed lightly. “She’s nervous you guys hate her cause of the Christmas party.” Chloe’s smile widened in a mischievous way. “There’s no way she cares that much about what we think.” I folded my arms in leaning back. “Trust me I can tell.” “Well, I did kind of bite her head off the day after so I suppose yeah..” She trailed off.

My face dropped, eyes narrowing at her admittance “What did you say to her?”

“Listen, I can’t see you get hurt. Full stop. I just told her how much you meant to me and so many people. I simply told her she can’t hurt you. I ended it with a hopefulness that we could be friends, genuinely.”

I let out a sigh. I couldn’t even be mad about it.

“I also told her to ask for your fucking number cause that shit was pissing me off.” Chloe added.

I threw me head back with a laugh.

“Thank you. You’re only allowed one shovel talk though.” I glared at her playfully.

An evil smile burst onto her face and I knew I had made a mistake.

“I’m sorry.” She crossed her arms and stepped closer. “A shovel talk? Are you admitting that Agatha Harkness is interested in dating you? Are you finally admitting to yourself that she likes you?” She was annoyingly right in my face now.

I shoved her away laughing. “Shut up.” Chloe clapped her hands with a squeal. “You’re so cute falling in love. All blushy and soft.”

“I’m gonna walk away now.” I said eating my smile. “Oh, and no teasing tonight. Like actually please don’t. I’ll actually be mad.” She held her hands up. “I promise. For now.”

——————————————————————————

I called Agatha as she requested after work.

“Hi, darling.” “Hello, lovely lady.” I was in such a good mood.

I found myself thinking about what was happening between us since Chloe’s words earlier.

Agatha Harkness really truly seemed to have feelings for me. Every time I thought about it it warmed me up.

Allowing myself to fully absorb that had me unstoppably happy. I felt a surge to see her. Felt myself not wanting to hold back as much as I usually did.

A pleasant noise sounded from her that I wanted to wrap me up.

“What time should I pick you up? I’ve already got Randy on call with the car.”

I smiled falling back onto my bed. “We agreed on meeting at seven, but maybe you could possibly come over early? We could maybe eat together first?”

I wanted to see her so badly.

“I’ll head over and pick something up on the way.”

“Are you sure? I can cook something.”

A laugh breathed out through her nose. “I’ve got it, sweet girl.”

“Well.” I trailed off rethinking my words, but went for it. “Hurry up. I miss you.” Nothing came from her end causing me to speak again. “Sorry, I know it’s ridiculous. It’s been less than twenty four hours I just.” Fuck it. “I just do. I miss you.”

There was no hesitation in her response this time. “I missed you the second the door closed behind me last night.”

I was glad nobody was around to see my absurdly wide smile. “I’m hanging up now so you can get here.”

“Yes ma’am.” She purred into the phone before hanging up.

I raced to get ready. After choosing an outfit I spritzed on some perfume, and clipped my necklace on making sure to leave it out loudly on my shirt.

I must’ve looked like an eager dog pacing back and forth between the door and the window.

I decided to slip Fleetwood Mac on the record player just minutes before the Rolls Royce pulled up.

I watched her as she climbed out with a bag of food. The car pulled off and she turned walking to the stairs. I opened the door poking out to greet her.

Blue jeans clung to her legs perfectly, a black short heel on her feet. A black boxy blouse was under her coat. The blouse was just sheer enough that her black bra underneath stood out against the skin of her stomach. My gaze lingered helplessly at her midriff.

“Blink darling.” She teased making me blush and meet her eyes with a bit of guilt.

She moved past me into the house and I followed.

As soon as she placed the food and her purse down she pulled me in. I slid my hands under her coat. The sheer fabric of her blouse was nearly like touching her skin. I snaked my arms around her waist, hands settling on either side warming.

She held me close around my shoulders as I pushed my face into her neck.

I took in a deep breath in and out. “You always smell so good.” I admitted it quietly running my thumbs against her sides. Her hand found the back of my neck tickling her nails across it. Tingles shot straight to my gut.

A grumbly sound released next to my ear. “So do you, darling.”

Eventually we pulled away and Agatha took her coat off. We settled in at the table to eat. It was some sort of eggplant dish that was delicious.

Music played softly filling the room. I’d just flipped the record and sat on the couch, Agatha rolled into me as soon as I did.

We sat cozy against each other chatting about our days easily. I was half ready to call off going out as seven neared. Just to keep her close and to myself right here.

Chloe texted me they were on their way and there was no backing out. Agatha sent a text to her driver and minutes later we were on our way too.

The car rolled to a stop up out front to a waiting Brooks and Chloe.

Agatha tugged my arm to follow her out. She stood at the door waiting for me to climb out. Pressing her hand to my lower back she closed the door behind us and we walked over to the duo.

I could practically feel their thoughts as they watched us. I’d need to give them cookies if they actually managed to keep their mouths shut tonight.

We exchanged greetings, a slight awkwardness floating around. Agatha took the lead in, hand lingering warm against my back.

“Why don’t you find us somewhere to sit, darling. Brooks and I will grab drinks.” Agatha suggested spoken soft against my ear against the loud room.

I nodded and grabbed Chloe’s arm pulling her with me.

She lasted about two seconds before nearly screeching with excitement. “Oh my fucking god. You two are so hot. No actually what the fuck.” I laughed and shoved her. “Relax dude.”

“Ohh the way she had that hand on you. Hot.” She poked my chest as she said it practically vibrating with excitement.

I moved us to a table in the corner and pulled out a chair for her. “Sit down and chill out. I really need you to play it cool.”

“I’ll try.” She dragged it out eyebrows up.

“No, no you will do.” I demanded raising my eyebrow sharply.

She shrugged and I rolled my eyes sitting across from her.

Agatha and Brooks came bearing drinks shortly after we sat. Agatha placed a bourbon in front of me as she sat down. Her left leg crossed over her right pressing into mine. She leaned back with an oozing confidence and draped her right arm behind my chair.

I looked over to her as I sipped my drink letting my eyes trail down her quickly.

“Any other cool cars besides the Rolls and Maserati?” Brooks asked directed to Agatha.

“I have a G wagon, but I don’t care for the way it drives.” I placed my hand against her calf stalling her next sentence. “I’ve been thinking about getting rid of it.” “I’ve always wanted a cutesy yellow VW bug.” Chloe jumped in. “Brooksy here won’t let me.” She playfully glared at him.

“They’re junk cars and I would be the fool working on it when it inevitably breaks.” He booped her nose smiling.

“No fun.” She said scrunching up her face at him.

“You could put those flower stickers on it. Remember those? I had one for my barbie with those stickers.” I spoke up knowing it would rile up Brooks. “Oh my god yes. See, she gets me.” Chloe turned back to Brooks.

“Ya know, you’re not helping me here.” He looked unamused but his smirk sold him out as he eyed me.

“Come on, she’d be so cute with her little space buns. Top down honking to pick you up from work on a summer day.” I winked to Chloe and her jaw dropped in an excited open smile at my vision.

Agatha laughed lightly next to me earning my attention. She was watching me softly. I squeezed her leg and brushed my thumb against it starting a repetitive motion.

“Hmm, maybe. We’ll see.” Brooks said shaking his head taking a sip of his beer.

“Yes.” Chloe exclaimed looking back over to me. “Have I mentioned how much I love you?”

I shook my head laughing.

The table fell into conversation, Agatha even jumping in here and there. I spaced out at some point after Agatha’s hand inched closer to rest on my shoulder.

Every time I looked at her she was already staring back with a soft smile. The way her arm and leg had me boxed in felt like a claim. She was turned in towards me, back straight and confident.

I took the last sip of my drink and reached my hand up to the one she lay on my shoulder. After a few light scratches against it I dropped my hand back to her leg. I watched her out of the corner of my eye attention trained on me. The hand on my shoulder squeezed.

I zoned back in as Brooks spoke. “Game of pool my friends?”

“We’ll go grab another round first.” Agatha stated nodding to Brooks.

I reluctantly removed my hand from her leg. Agatha dragged hers all the way across my shoulders before she stood.

“I know I’ve said it already but ya’ll are so hot.” Chloe gushed as they disappeared from ear range. “The way that woman wraps herself around you and looks at you, hoo baby. Cartoon heart eyes might as well be popping out.”

I turned and got up trying to hide my unavoidable smile. “Come on, let’s rack a table up.”

“Ugh, whatever.”

When they returned Agatha walked right up to me not stopping until my hip was pressed into her front. Her hand slipped to my lower back again after she handed me my drink.

“Thank you.”

She sent a wink in reply as she sipped her drink.

“What do ya say Agatha, team up with me?” Brooks broke the bubble around us.

She looked over to him then back to me, a daring look in her eyes.

“Sure.” She said still locked onto me. Leaning over to my ear she whispered. “You’re going down, darling.” A loud quick breath pushed out of my lungs. She pulled away, a challenging glint in her eyes as she walked over to grab a pool cue.

I caught Chloe’s stare and the look she had on me was all too knowing. I hid behind chalking the cue in my hand.

She did in fact destroy me.

Every time she buzzed past me around the table a little touch snuck with it. Whenever I met her eyes they held me helplessly. Her hands fixed around the pool cue snapping my thoughts into forbidden places with every damn shot. My eyes couldn’t resist following every move her hands made.

I placed myself into conversation as we played, but she distracted every other second.

Of course, she also destroyed us in the game. We went two rounds and her and Brooks won both.

We sat back at our table. Chloe and Brooks lingered behind offering to put what we used away.

“Would’ve been nice to know I was playing against a pool shark.” I teased as she sat next to me.

A beautiful laugh rang out of her mouth. “It’s all just angles and math.” I scrunched my nose smiling. “Smarty pants.”

She was about to say something when Chloe spoke up. “Hey, we’re gonna head out.” Agatha and I turned to her and Brooks.

“Total blast. Can’t wait to do it again.” Brooks added slipping his corduroy coat on.

“Absolutely.” Agatha spoke up filling me with a warmth at all of my favorite people getting along.

“Get home safe guys. I’ll see you tomorrow. Just shoot a text when you’re on your way.” I said referring to our brunch plans.

“Will do, bub.” Chloe said smiling down to us. “Bye Agatha. See you after the holidays.” “Bye Chloe, Brooks. Have a great Christmas.” Agatha said pleasantly.

I wanted to kiss her as they walked away. Right in this loud dimly lit bar.

She turned to me faltering at my gaze. Her head tilted down as she looked at me through her lashes.

“Question.” I leaned closer to her.

A curious hum settled over me and I swear her eyes glanced down to my lips.

I only faltered for a second under the glance before asking. “If we leave now do you have to go home?”

The skin between her eyebrows creased. “Do you think I have a curfew?” She asked it with amusement laced in every word.

I laughed shaking my head. “No, I just wasn’t sure how long you had your driver for. Cause I would really like to go home, but I don’t want you to go.”

“I have him as long as I need him.” Her blue eyes danced across me. “Wait here, I’m going to close the tab.”

I nodded as she got up and walked away.

I had just stood to put my coat on when she returned. I held up her own coat for her to slip into. Fixing her hair I pulled it out from underneath the coat. She turned as my hands dropped and tucked her arm around my waist.

“Let’s get you home.” She lead me out close and warm.

The cozy quiet the backseat held followed us up the stairs and into my house.

We slipped our shoes off side by side at the door. Hung our coats over each others on the hook. It was so easy to slip into the fantasy of this being a regular thing for us. So easy to get carried away in ideas of domestic daydreams with her.

“Can I interest you in a drink, Agatha?” I asked after starting to spin The Firewatcher’s Daughter on the record player.

She was on the couch, elbow on the back of it and resting her head on her fist. Her eyes matched the soft lighting of the room.

“Yes.”

I had made a point to make sure I had everything for a Moscow mule since finding out she liked them. I flitted around the kitchen preparing it.

Walking over with our drinks I sunk in next to her as she took hers out of my hand.

Raising an eyebrow in a perfect point she eyed me taking a sip. It’d been a while since I’d made one and I prayed it was decent.

I watched as her throat bobbed with the swallow. When I looked back up she shot me a wink.

Every time I was around her it was becoming harder not to kiss her. Especially when I’d been drinking.

“Good?” Her arm wrapped around my shoulders as she answered. “Very.”

I kicked my feet up next to hers on the ottoman. Her right leg instantly settled over my left, foot poking up in between the both of mine. She moved her foot into mine rubbing them together. I watched on helpless to the butterflies that came with it.

“You really are into astrology, huh?” She asked continuing her motions.

I looked to her quizzically following her gaze to where I had left my telescope out.

I laughed lightly. “It’s just some cheap telescope. I downloaded this app that tells you about astrological events. I guess it interested me more than I thought it would, but it’s not a huge deal.”

“And the moon lamp?” She teased gesturing to the timed light glowing on one of my bedside tables.

“That was a gift actually.” I turned to her and poked her nose. “From the yankee swap.”

Her arm moved down around my waist and pulled me tighter. “I see.”

Her mind seemed elsewhere and I watched as she very obviously looked down to my lips. There was no denying it this time at all. A panic shot through me and I looked away.

“Let’s go to the roof.” I exclaimed slipping out of her grasp.

I could feel her watching me as I walked over to the telescope.

A quiet sharp singular laugh sounded behind me.

My body felt like I was in fight or flight. Except this was more like let the feelings flow or completely avoid them and run.

Of course I wanted to kiss her. So fucking desperately, but I hadn’t kissed someone in far too long. I was disturbingly out of practice. A woman like Agatha. Gosh the idea of kissing her and it not being good. It made my stomach churn just at the thought of it.

“Always trying to get me out in the cold.” She commented from the couch as I was heading towards the back door.

A hint of irritation seemed present in her tone, maybe upset. I felt my gut sink. Maybe it was just in my head though.

“Ugh, right sorry.” I halted my move towards the back door. “We don’t have to, I’m sorry.” I felt very much so like I was apologizing for something else and it was obvious. Apologizing for the fact that I was too chicken to stay in the moment that had just held us.

I placed the telescope down shaking my head. Panic was starting to rise a little bit higher in my chest.

What if I fucked this all up? Fucked it up before anything even started.

My back was to her as I was trying to reel myself in. I heard her approach, heels now on. My gut sank again.

She stopped right behind me. I could feel her sigh out onto the back of my neck. I saw her out of the corner of my eye reach down and place a pair of slip on shoes I had by the door next to me.

Now she stood closer holding up the left side of my coat wordlessly. After a pause I slipped my arms in.

“Let’s go freeze for the stars, darling.” She said quietly hand rubbing my back.

I took a deep breath and slipped my shoes on. Grabbing the telescope again I walked to the back door, opening and holding it for her.

She walked out, instinctually heading right up the stairs. My eyes adjusted to the dark roof only lit by the moon above. I opted to leave the switch off for the lights I had strung around, for a better view of the sky.

I walked to the table I had set up and placed my phone down. Standing up the telescope I grabbed my phone again.

“Okay, let’s see what the sky has for us tonight.” I said finally breaking the silence. I opened the star gazer app as she slid up behind me looking over my shoulder.

“Ooh, we can see Jupiter tonight.” I nervously let out switching over to the compass in my phone. I moved until I found north west and tucked my phone into my pocket. I rearranged the telescope in the right direction and started my search for Jupiter. I felt her eyes on me the whole time, stirring me up.

Somehow with slightly shaking hands I found it and focused in. I couldn’t help but smile at the sight of it. I hadn’t had the opportunity to see anything but mars since I had gotten the telescope. I pulled away and backed off.

“Take a look.” I said still smiling.

She examined me with a crooked smile for an unsettling amount of time before moving to look. She leaned into it, wavy hair falling down on either side.

“Very cool.” She said with an amusement as she pulled back.

I snorted and shook my head leaning back against the table. “I know it’s lame. We can go back down.”

The wind seemed to sweep her towards me as I kept my gaze up in avoidance.

“It’s not.” She said as she stilled right in front of me.

She had a knack for making worries I had seem pointless with simple matter of fact statements. Like it was so obvious to anyone but me that it wasn’t a problem.

My head fell down to meet her darkened eyes.

A bit of a vicious gust of wind snapped through the thin space between us. We both winced at it and I laughed head tilting back. “It’s fucking freezing, darling.” Agatha said after laughing along.

“I know. I’m sorry I dragged you out here.” I nudged into her as she was blocking me against the table. “Let’s go back in.”

She tucked her windswept hair behind her ear along side her smile and backed away.

“One more look though.” I said leaning back over the telescope.

“Look as long as you’d like, sweet girl.”

The view of the planet controlled the urge I had to back her into the railing on the edge of the roof and kiss her.

Wordlessly, after a moment I backed up and placed the lens back on the telescope before folding it.

We walked back down in a silence. I expected her to announce her leave as I placed the telescope back at the window near my bed. The sight of her slipping her coat and shoes back off was a delight as I turned.

She finished her drink and disappeared into the bathroom.

I walked over to my bed and grabbed the folded blanket just like the night before. Quickly I flipped the record that had been on to the other side and placed the needle against it.

Walking to the couch, I fell into the corner she usually occupied and expectantly waited for her to return and tuck under with me.

She did just that after walking back. I left my right arm behind her back and tugged her in with the blanket after draping it over us. She pushed into my front resting her head against the side of my own and back into my shoulder. My hand fell against her waist. That damn thin fabric making my heart race again.

The music danced across the moment until she spoke up. “What is it about the stars that you like?” Her gaze held forward, head brushing into my chin as she sunk lower.

I thought about it for a few seconds before speaking up.

“It’s just.” I paused trying to find my words. “It’s honestly amazing to me. It doesn’t feel any less baffling to me as when I was a kid. I mean, during the day it’s just the sun and a bright blue solidness, or dark blue or cloudy whatever the weather holds for that day.” I took a breath and glanced down to her looking at me out of the corner of her eye. “Then night comes and the whole sky just explodes.” I turned away from her looking out the closest window. “All of these stars and planets hidden until the sun drops. Millions of miles and lightyears away and we can just see it. I mean, we just looked at a planet that’s over four hundred million miles away from us as if it was something down the street. I don’t know. I could just stare up for hours at night, and I have.” I laughed and looked down to her. Her head was now fully turned up to me shooting me a look so bright it could put every star out there to shame. I looked away again from the shaking stare. “I just think it get’s taken for granted, what shines above us at night. It’s beautiful and so unbelievably hard to believe that it’s real. Anyways.” I trailed off and lowered my eyes back to her.

If it was possible, she was looking at me with an even gentler lightness than a moment ago. I found my own eyes flicking over hers in search of a reaction apart from her blazing smile.

Her hand reached up out of the blanket, knuckles grazing over my cheek. I Belong to You quietly filtered from the speakers of the record player.

“Your mind…” She trailed off for a second, eyes glistening. “I’ll look at the stars with you anytime.” It came out in an identical brush like the way her knuckles had done over my face.

My eyes closed briefly pressing into her touch before her hand dropped back under the blanket and over my stomach.

“Preferably when It’s warmed up a bit, but I’ll handle the cold for you.” My heart beat in a constant rapid rhythm. Her head fell back to my shoulder releasing me from the hold I had no urge to escape.

“We’ve known each other for such a short time, but I can’t imagine not knowing you now.” I admitted quietly into the top of her head.

She turned her face into my shoulder and I could feel the smile on her cheek. “The feeling is very mutual.”

The night moved on too quickly and the clock now ticked near midnight.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone opening a text thread with her driver. She held it far from her face, squinting. I smiled at her clear need for glasses.

She typed a quick ready whenever and locked the screen. “I do have to go. Early morning. I have to be in the city until Tuesday afternoon.” My heart sunk at her words. The idea of her alone on Christmas Eve and Christmas still left a deep sadness in me. I hadn’t realized this is the last time I’d see her before the holiday.

I thought about the wrapped sweater I had for her tucked way back behind my tree. I decided I wouldn’t give it to her unless she gave me a gift. I thought, maybe she wouldn’t even want a gift for Christmas. Choosing to ignore the whole thing all together. I wanted something to give her though, in preparation if she did. That didn’t seem likely now. I thought about giving it to her anyways, but held back for some reason.

I wrapped both of my arms around her squeezing her into me. “I wish you weren’t going to be alone. I wish…” I sighed into her hair. “I wish I could…” Something was stopping me from saying the sentence.

I technically could bring her home for the holiday, but really I couldn’t. There was too much to explain. Too many feelings to hide. I’d be lying entirely if I said the age gap didn’t scare me. That mixed with the fact nothing had actually happened between us meant she simply couldn’t come home with me. If she’d even want to.

It seemed she understood even without me speaking it as she nodded her head into me.

Agatha gripped her arms around me now too and we fell into a shared embrace. An embrace trying to share all the words we couldn’t

Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

Following a groan she pulled back, halting a couple of inches from my face. I reached my own hand up now to her face and skimmed it gently against her skin. Moving, I tucked her hair behind her ear like she always did. I dragged my hand down to the base of her ear and brushed it between my pointer finger and thumb. Her eyes closed and I traveled my hand further down under her jaw.

The buzzing of her phone opened her eyes. With a reluctance she pulled out of my grip and I followed. I stood next to her at the door as she quietly put her coat and shoes on.

I could see headlights pull up outside as she turned to face me. I pulled her into another tight hug that she returned just as fervently.

“I’ll miss you.” I whispered in admittance. “I’ll miss you too.” Her voice held a shakiness I wasn’t expecting that had me clinging tighter.

“Call me?” I asked.

Her hand brushed against my rib and she nodded. “I will.”

We pulled away at the same time, a sad smile seeping off the both of us. “Let me know when you’re home safe.” “I will.” With that she left taking a specific irreplaceable warmth with her.

A text popped up on my phone from Agatha just as I got comfortable in bed.

‘Goodnight my little star gazer. xo’

My whole chest seemed to move as my heart paced up. A wide smile ate my face up.

‘Night my lovely. xo’

I stopped myself from sending it for well over a minute. The heart that instantly came in reply had my mind racing until I fell asleep.

I woke around eight and hopped in the shower as a pot of coffee brewed. After savoring a few sips, I walked down the stairs to get the mail. A Christmas card from my uncle in Tucson was on top of the pile, a Home Goods magazine that I never subscribed to but randomly got now and again, the bill for electric and at the very back a card from Agatha Harkness. I halted halfway up the stairs taking it in. Her address held my attention for a few seconds. I knew she couldn’t have lived far judging by the shorter amount of time it took her to get home from here. The card didn’t have a stamp leading me to assume she had dropped it off herself.

My face pinched in confusion as I continued up the stairs into the house.

I grabbed my phone from my night stand and realized I did have a text from her. Turning my dnd off I opened the text. A simple good morning darling with a smile placed at the end.

Not a single mention of a hand delivered card.

I took a picture of the card and sent it in our chat.

‘Hand delivery?’

After a second I sent another text.

‘Oh, and Good morning.’

I attached a smiling emoji at the end and sent it. I stared until the typing bubbles appeared.

‘Yes, I meant to give it to you or mail it but had forgotten. I headed into the city early today so I swung by and dropped it in your mailbox.’

I read the text and moved to open the card smiling. I didn’t take Agatha as the type of person to send out what I assumed was a Christmas card.

Picking the letter up, I tore the back of the envelope and pulled out the card.

As expected, a Christmas card. It was a thick white card stock with a simple cartoon tree strung with lights on the front. Merry Christmas was printed in red cursive above it.

I opened the card and froze.

Inside was a stack of hundred dollar bills that fell onto the floor.

It took a second, but I finally read the script inside. Her delicate handwriting swept over the blank canvas.

‘Merry Christmas Darling I hope you have the best holiday with your family’

A heart was neatly signed next to her perfectly penned name at the bottom.

I reached down to pick up the cash. I counted it and totaled one thousand dollars worth of crisp hundred bills. It left something unsettling in my chest. I placed the money back in the card and tucked it back into the envelope. Grabbing my phone I walked to a chair at the table trying to wrap my head around why she would do that. It wasn’t something a normal friend or more than friend or whatever did.

If Chloe handed me a card with a thousand dollars, I’d laugh and call her stupid and give it back to her instantly. My parents never even gave me cash like that.

I hesitantly held my phone up to text her.

‘I’m sorry but are you aware there is a thousand dollars in cash inside of this card?'

I typed it so fast and sent it not giving myself time to think about it. My leg was bobbing, a tension building the more I thought about it. A text popped up in reply.

‘Yes, a little holiday tip for my favorite barista.’

It just made the icky feeling in my gut sink a little deeper and stronger.

I suppose if it was from a random rich customer I only knew through work it would be different. I would still feel extremely uncomfortable taking it, but it would be different.

I considered us growing very close recently. It just didn’t feel like something someone I’m close with should do. It felt transactional and weird. I picked up my phone again to text her back.

'I absolutely can’t accept this Agatha.’

Her reply started typing right away.

‘You can. Don’t think too much on it. It’s really nothing.’

I scoffed as I read it. Maybe to her it wasn’t.

Did she think I needed money? Sure, I am aware I definitely do not live the life she does, but I’m not struggling.

I felt myself stumbling back over every hurdle of insecurity I had at the start.

Locking my phone I placed it face down on the table and stood. I walked the card from her over to my desk drawer and shoved it in right alongside her two notes.

The clock had just ticked past ten. Brooks, Chloe and myself had decided on noon for our brunch. I had to get started on what I was making and push aside any thoughts this had put into my insecure brain.

I started the oven to preheat for a blueberry french toast bake. It was Chloe’s favorite. I’d surprise her now and again with it. She basically begged me to make it for today.

Aside from the French toast I was going to make scrambled eggs, mimosas and a ribeye steak on the grill. I wasn’t personally one for steak, but Brooks loved a good steak and eggs. I was dreading using the grill on the roof as the temperature was showing twenty degrees, real feel eight, but it was better than the house smelling like beef.

After putting the French toast in the oven I prepped the steak with seasoning and set it out to come to room temp. Busying myself with getting ready was really helping distract my thoughts from Agatha. My phone sat glaringly still on the table. I didn’t touch it.

When I made it back in from the roof with the steak my hands were like ice. I thought about how nice it would be if Agatha were here to warm them up. Unfortunately a lingering pang found it’s way in after the pleasant thought of it.

It was so easy to place the vision of her in my house now. I could see her sitting smiling on the couch. I shook it away.

I scrambled the eggs right after the French toast finished and set the oven to warm keeping it all toasty inside.

I changed into a green sweater, a pair of jeans and tucked my feet into my slippers.

Car doors shutting sounded just as I started spinning a Christmas vinyl.

“Merry Christmas.” Brooks nearly shouted as he sprang through the unlocked door.

“Merry Christmas, guys.” I smiled as the two made their way in.

I was very happy to have them here to distract. It felt like a tell tale heart ticking in my desk. Their presence was easing that tick if only slightly.

We settled into the afternoon. Chloe and Brooks dropped their gifts for me near the tree alongside the ones I had for them.

They brought sausage, bacon, home fries and croissants from this place next to their house that made the best croissants you’ve ever tasted.

We set up the spread and dug in. Our usual easy banter mixed over the food. After gifts we eventually picked up the wrappings and moved to the living room. They took the couch and I sat in the arm chair on the side.

We were in a casual conversation about our families when I dared to look at my phone. Two texts and a missed call from Agatha.

My heart jumped and sank at the sight. I shakily opened the texts. The first one came about an hour after the last one I had read and right after the call.

‘I’m free for a half hour. Call me back if you can.’

The next was just shy of that half hour mark.

‘If you’re upset about the money, please don’t be. It’s nothing really. Just consider it a gift.’

I sighed and tossed my phone down next to me in the chair.

“I need your opinion on something, guys.” I admitted staring at the ceiling.

“Shoot.” Chloe replied as my eyes fell to them.

“This morning, Agatha dropped off a Christmas card in my mailbox.” I sighed and stood up walking over to my desk. “Now, I just need to know. Am I being dramatic in thinking this is weird?” I closed the drawer after pulling it out. “Cause it’s freaking me out and I personally think this is very weird to randomly give to someone you’ve well, you’ve gotten closer to.” I handed it over to Chloe. “It kind of left me feeling I don’t know, just really off I guess.”

She opened it with Brooks looking over her shoulder. Their faces both twisted most likely similar to how mine did when taking in the money.

Chloe looked up to me confusion laced on her face. Silently she looked back down then to Brooks, then back down and slipped the card closed and into the envelope.

A silence hung in the air as she placed it on the coffee table.

“It’s a little strange.” Chloe said softly, her mind seemed to be churning behind her words.

“A little?” Brooks asked exasperated. “If you gave me a wad of cash when we started dating I would, I wouldn’t even know how I’d respond to that.”

I sighed and dropped into my chair. “Does she just think I’m some poor thing that needs money?”

I worried my bottom lip between my teeth, foot starting to tap.

“I don’t think so, bub.” Chloe let out a puff of air now. “My best guess? She’s out of practice with any type of relationship and doesn’t realize this is extremely strange.”

“I’ve literally never received this kind of money from anyone. Except that one time I was in a pinch with rent and my parents helped me out, which I paid back.” I rushed out pinching my fingers against the fabric of my jeans.

“Have you talked to her about it?” Brooks asked.

I nodded. “Yes, she said it was a Christmas tip for her favorite barista. Then I said I couldn’t accept it and she said it was no big deal yes I could which, okay maybe not a big deal for her, but it certainly is for me. Then I stopped responding cause I had to get ready for brunch and she’s texted and called since. Told me if I was upset about the money, not to be and to just consider it a gift.” I huffed shaking my head. “I don’t know. I don’t want to make a big deal about it. Especially before the holidays, but I don’t want her to think I want this. That I want any money from her. I don’t want anything about our relationship to feel like a fucking transaction.”

It all came out in a rush and they both listened intently. Chloe stood up when I finished and walked over to me. She held her arms up expectantly and I stood falling into a hug. “Just, have a chat with her after the holidays. Face to face. Not over call or text. Just tell her how you feel. Communication will settle this. I’m sure of it.” She said it gently.

“I second all of that.” Brooks said from the couch.

I nodded shoulders relaxing slightly.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to bring up drama around the holidays. Thanks for listening.” I felt a little guilty. It could have waited.

Chloe pulled back and walked over to sit down again. “Pfft, that’s what we’re here for.” I nodded and sat back down.

I was thankful when the conversation easily moved on to a different subject.

Four o’clock came and the motions of them leaving began.

They planned on being at Brooks’ parents for dinner and it took about an hour to get there. They went to his parents for Christmas Eve then back to Chloe’s parents for Christmas Day.

We shared hugs and thank you’s again at the door as they left.

I cleaned up a bit after the mess of brunch. I slowly decided I needed to go to the mall. I needed to get another gift for Agatha. Something better than a sweater.

Maybe if I could make the supposed ‘gift’ she gave me a little more even, I would feel better.

I paced over it a couple of times before deciding to text her.

‘Can I call or are you busy?’

Her reply came in the form of a call barely a minute later.

I answered right away. “Hi.” “Hello.” Her voice seemed a little tense.

“I’m sorry I didn’t respond for a bit. Chloe and Brooks came over and I had so much to cook and do before they got here this morning.” I didn’t want her to think I was just doing nothing.

“Oh, that’s okay darling.” An uneasiness still seeped out of her words.

I broke the awkward silence that unusually settled over the call. “How was your day?” A long sigh passed from her line to mine. “Long and tiring. I’m back at the hotel now. One more stupid meeting tomorrow and I’m done.”

I smiled slightly at the idea of her tired and sprawled on a hotel mattress as I heard a sheet rustle.

“That’s it for my boring day. Tell me about yours.” She spoke again gently.

“It was great.” I admitted moving to put my sneakers on placing her on speaker. “Chloe and Brooks loved their gifts. The food was good. A very good day.” I started on my second shoe. “Now, I’ve just got to call an uber to make one last trip to the store.” “Why aren’t you driving?” She asked right away. “Oh, we had some mimosas. I don’t want to risk anything.” I replied honestly picking my phone up to open the uber app.

“Well, I’ll send my driver for you.” She easily replied.

“Oh, no that’s okay. You don’t have to bother him.” I brushed her off. “It’s fine. I’m texting him right now. Should he head over or do you need a little bit?”

“Agatha, really it’s okay.” I was almost pleading.

“He’s already on standby, darling. Just let me know when.”

I sighed. “Are you sure it’s not a problem?” It was thoughtful and maybe it wouldn’t have bothered me as much if I didn’t also receive hundreds from her today.

“I pay him a very good salary every year and rarely need rides from him. He’s happy to do it, I promise.” She worked to ease my worries.

I paused another moment longer before closing the app. “Okay. Now is fine.” “Good, he’ll be on his way in a few minutes.”

“Okay. Thank you.” I said quietly.

“You’re very welcome. It’s no big thing.”

I nodded even though she couldn’t see me. “I have to just finish getting ready. Can I call you back when I get in the car? I mean, if you’re tired or busy that’s fine too.”

“Call me. I’ll be waiting.” I smiled wishing I could fall into her right now. I knew being swept in her embrace would fix everything. “Okay, bye.”

“Bye, darling.” I hung up and quickly rushed to finish getting ready. I received a text from an unknown number shortly after.

‘Hello, this is Randy, Agatha’s driver. I’m waiting curbside whenever you are ready. Take your time.’

I quickly responded.

‘Hi, thank you. I will be right down.’

I slipped my coat on, grabbed my keys and wallet then made my way out.

I pushed through the awkwardness and slid into the backseat.

“Hello.” I said to the familiar face in the rearview.

He smiled and nodded his head. He was an older gentleman. Grey but not old enough where I was concerned for my safety.

“Where to?” He asked kindly.

“The mall off of one seventy seven if that’s okay?”

Another nod. “Of course.” With that he shifted into drive and pulled away from the curb.

I lifted my phone up and called Agatha.

“Hello.” Her voice didn’t hold any tension like the start of the last call.

“Hi, just got in the car. Thank you again.” I said it quietly not wanting to disturb Randy.

“Anytime, really.” She paused as a distant knock on her door could be heard. “Hold on one second. Room service just got here.” “Okay.” I heard her answer the door and share pleasantries with whoever had brought up her food.

“Alright, all set now.”

“What’d you get?” I asked quiet again. “Sorry, that’s nosey.” I quickly added.

She laughed and I wished so hard I could see it.

“I fear I’ll share anything with you.” She paused after the admittance that held far too much weight for the conversation being had. “I got a greek salad.”

I pictured her lying back on her bed reading the menu with her glasses on. Thought how fun it would be to travel with her somewhere.

I watched the street lights pass quickly on the highway. I’d always found my thoughts traveled to daydreams in the backseat of a car.

“Sounds good.” I said a little absently with my brain busy picturing the woman on the phone.

“I’m a sucker for a good greek salad.” I smiled at her words. “Where are you off to?” She asked as I heard a clink of metal in the background.

“The mall. I’m actually scared to see how crazy it is.” I laughed nerved up at the idea of a busy loud mall.

“What’s so important?” She asked with a specific interest laced in her voice.

Her teeth scraped on the metal of the fork she was using. “I’d forgotten something for my mom. I love her too much to not risk my life to get it the day before Christmas Eve.” I joked exaggerating the stakes of going.

It wasn’t fully a lie. Where I was planning on going I was getting something for my mom as well. I just held the fact that I was getting something for her a secret. I didn’t want her to think I was only getting her something because of that stupid card filled with cash.

“Well, that’s very sweet of you.” Her voice had a dreaminess to it that I could crawl into given the chance. “Randy can go in with you if you’re nervous.”

Another bite sounded. I’d grown to love watching her eat. Elegant and precise with every bite. So very Agatha.

“Oh, no.” I snorted. “I’ll be fine.”

The exit for the mall came up and Randy took it with a steady ease.

“If you insist.”

“How is your greek salad?” I asked closing my eyes to picture her better.

“Very good.” She said it mouth clearly surrounding another forkful. “Sorry, I’m starving.”

“You’re fine. I like watching you eat.” My eyes shot open at my own words. If Randy heard it he did very well at keeping his eyes to himself and his face neutral. “I mean not like in a weird way. I just like watching you, like exist.” I had to stop fucking talking. “Like, just looking at you but like normally. Like a normal thing.” I tried my best to keep my voice low as I spurted out nonsense after nonsense.

A long pause came from her end before an amused Agatha responded. “Normal, huh?”

I closed my eyes shaking my head. There was nothing fucking normal about what just came out of my mouth.

“Yes.” Was all my stupid bumbling brain could think of.

“Well.” I heard her shift against the bed sheets again. “I very normally like watching you too.”

I almost groaned at her words. A mix of embarrassment and a surging want for her.

Randy pulled up to the main entrance of the mall and came to a stop.

I sat up straight, unbuckling. “Oh, should I just text you when I’m done? Or you just park and I can find you I won’t be long. Whatever you prefer is fine with me. I can just walk to the car when I’m done if that’s easier.” I was fully aware that I was babbling nonsense again, this time to Randy.

I had pulled the phone away from my face, but I knew she’d still be able to hear me.

“You just text me when you’re done. I’ll pick you up right here.” Randy said kindly smiling in the rearview.

It released a slight bit of the tension I was holding. “Thank you. I won’t be long.” “Take your time.”

I opened the door and got out closing it behind me.

“Sorry.” I said into the phone for some reason alerting my return. “You don’t have any reason to apologize, sweet girl.” An amusement was still attached to her voice.

I could only focus on the butterflies her words gave me for a moment as I walked into the main entrance.

“Holy fuck. It’s like an ant farm in here.” I muttered quietly as a family of three brushed past me.

Agatha laughed brightly.

“I’ll call you back when I’m done, okay?” I said as I weaved through the crowd.

“I can stay on with you if you’d like.” She offered kindly.

I paused considering it. “No, it’s probably best if I hang up so I can focus.”

God, was I digging myself deep tonight.

A long pause followed my words before she spoke, voice still dripping in amusement. “Okay, you call me if you need me.” “Okay, call back soon.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

With that I hung up and started to dodge around people who thought standing in the middle of a busy mall was acceptable.

Finally, I reached the second floor and got to Lush. I thought maybe it wouldn’t be fancy enough for her, but Lush products seem to be a universally enjoyed thing. I decided along with her sweater I already had, I’d get her stuff for a cozy night. Lush was first on the docket. Judging by the picture I saw of her house, I’m certain she had a nice bath.

It took way longer than it should have trying to find a scent that suited her. Our local Lush was tiny and full of people which only made it more overwhelming. I ended up getting her a rose jam bath bomb and a twilight gift set. Also, picking up a random gift set for my mom.

Next I quickly rushed off to find a blanket. She’d mentioned how much she liked the blanket I’d draped over us on the couch a couple of times. Besides the line wait, it didn’t take me long to grab and pay for the same blanket just in a different color. It was between purple or an awful blue so I decided on the dark purple.

I was almost back to the door I’d entered through. Phone in my hand to call Agatha, when I spotted a mannequin in a window. A dark silk robe with purple and green florals hung on the mannequin.

I decided without hesitation it was perfect for Agatha. I rushed in finding the rack that held them right at the entrance of the store. The register was free of any other shoppers and within minutes I was calling Agatha heading back to the entrance.

“Hello.” She sounded tired.

“Hi, that took so much longer than I thought it would.” “All done now?” She asked with the softness of a cloud.

“Yes, thankfully.” I adjusted the bags in my hands. “Oh shit, I have to text Randy hold on.” “I’m on it.” Came from her cooly.

I halted for just a second. “Thank you.” A gentle hum came from her leaving me to picture her sleepy eyes. “You sound tired, lovely.” It felt weighted on my tongue saying it out loud and not just over text. A shuffling sounded alongside her pause. “A bit.” Her words came out like a breath, barely there. I nearly walked into a stranger, focus too far gone to the woman on the phone.

“I’m sorry.” I called out to him as he brushed past me annoyed and fixing a glare as he did. “Ugh, get me the heck out of here.” I grumbled mostly to myself.

“Are people being rude to my sweet girl?” Her purring words had my legs halting again in a brain breaking way.

A millisecond of a whiny pathetic noise escaped my throat. I just hoped the buzz of the busy mall masked it. A sharp breath I couldn’t decipher sounded from her end.

The door was in view now and I pushed myself to start walking again.

“Uhm.” I cleared my throat regaining myself. “To be fair I almost walked into him on accident, but he didn’t seem receptive to my apology.”

My words came out in a dragging way as I still couldn’t get her own out of my mind.

“If I was there I’d have him on his knees apologizing to you.” There was only a hint of joking in her tone.

I laughed approaching the door. “No you wouldn’t.”

“Maybe not, but I’d fix him a stare that would have him thinking he should.” Again, just a hint of joking.

I sighed wistfully picturing it. Maybe her arm would pull me close around my waist as she shot him daggers.

“My hero.” I said it like a rescued damsel as I pushed through the doors.

Randy was pulled up waiting. I opened the door and slipped into the backseat. “Hi, I’m sorry I took longer than I thought I would.” I felt the need to apologize as I closed my door.

“Not a problem. Any other stops?” He asked as he started to drive.

“One other if it’s alright. Can you stop at Leann’s on Spruce Street?” I asked and he simply nodded in reply.

Agatha’s voice broke through. “If you apologize one more time I’m going to…” She trailed off.

My heart leapt. It felt like I should be able to see it pop out of my chest.

The silence was almost comical. “Well?” I questioned daringly. “I’m waiting.”

With bated breath I waited for her response. My free hand was white knuckling the leather seat underneath me.

“I’ll think of something before I see you again. So watch your tongue.” The low warning her voice took on had me feeling way too hot.

Her words shot low in my gut leaving me slightly dizzy with an overwhelming want.

Barely above a whisper I uttered. “Sorry.”

A shaky breath released from her only fueling the fire.

“Behave.” She tried to mask the word with a confidence but I could still hear the up and down of her breathing. It didn’t make the word any less of a problem for my current state.

I felt stupid now. I should have kissed her last night. I should have let her kiss me last night, whichever.

The phone call moved into an exchange of breathing. I felt like I had moved through a time warp as spruce street came into view.

“I wish I wasn’t in this stupid city right now.” Her voice had gathered up an annoyance that turned gentler as she continued. “I wish I was right there with you.”

“Agatha.” It came out on a needy breath.

“Here we are.” Randy called back disturbing the atmosphere between the two of us.

“Oh.” My head popped up to him. “Hold on, I’ll call you right back.”

“Okay.” She whispered softly.

I hung up and looked to Randy through the rear view. “I’ll be just a few minutes.”

He nodded and I hurried out the door and inside the liquor store. It didn’t take long for me to grab a bottle of red and white for Agatha’s gifts. A modest selection, middle of the road. I couldn’t decide on one so I settled on giving her the option.

I was holding the paper bag in one arm and holding my phone up with the other calling her back as I walked out. I slipped into the backseat just as I heard her pick up.

“All set, ready to go home.” I called over closing the door behind me.

Another nod and Randy pulled off.

I heard a sigh break out of her. The phone call carried a weight over from the last one.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked after a long silence.

“You.” Her simple response stoked the fire in me again.

Randy turned on to my street and the cafe came into view. Spruce street was only a short distance from my own. Wordless, the three of us as he came to a stop outside of my house.

I grabbed my bags awkwardly after tucking the wine into the bag with the blanket. Shouldering the phone I grabbed the handle opening my door.

“Thank you, again. You’re a life saver.” Slipping out I leaned back in. “Enjoy the rest of your night.” “You too.” Came his simple reply before I closed the door and started up the stairs.

The absence from her end lingered and I checked to make sure the call was still going.

The silence carried me inside. I placed the bags on the couch and removed my shoes and coat. It didn’t make sense but I could just feel her listening to everything I was doing.

It was almost seven now and I realized I was starving. My hunger almost distracted from the feelings she’d left in me that I was trying desperately to push aside. “Still there?” I added a light laugh at the end of my question. “I am.” Simple and short.

I walked over to the fridge popping it open. I ventured again to lighten the mood. “Hmm, grilled cheese or a salad from the grocery store that says it’s not expired but looks questionable?”

Her laugh eased the tense air, finally. “I think I’d go for the grilled cheese, hon.”

The names she had for me were proving endless. “Yeah, probably for the best.”

I placed my phone on the counter changing her to speaker as I gathered everything. She remained speechless as I clanked through the kitchen.

“If you’re tired I can let you go.” I stated as I placed the sandwich on the hot buttery pan.

A tired gravely hum rang through. It only added to the hard to ignore ache she had pushed down into me.

“I’m okay. If I fall asleep you can just hang up.” Her voice was deep with a sleepiness.

I held back a groan.

“Am I boring you?” She added smirk showing through her words.

“Not at all.” I flipped my sandwich searing the other side.

I finished cooking the grilled cheese, placed it on a plate and switched the burner off.

Moving to the table I pulled out a chair to sit. We held bits of chat as I ate. Mostly it was quiet. Just the two of us enjoying the others distant company. Any of the teasing charge that lingered from the car moved to the back burner.

“I should let you go sleepy head. I still have to shower and wrap a few gifts.” I said after washing up my dishes quick.

“Call me tomorrow?” She didn’t give me a second to respond. “That’s right, you’ll be with your family.” I smiled mildly enjoying the disappointment she held. “I will find time.” “Yeah?”

“Always.” I assured her.

She let out a sigh through her nose. “Alright. Enjoy your shower, darling.” And just when I thought I’d made it out alive. The way she said it held a suggestion behind it. My thoughts instantly went back to the car ride home. I was glad nobody was here to see the blush that creeped up.

“I will. I’ll text you. Bye.” My voice came out matter of fact and almost robotic.

“Bye.” She sang it out and I knew that she knew where my mind had gone. I hung up and groaned head falling back.

I tried to ignore it. I really did, but the warm shower ignited all of the embers she’d placed over the phone. She consumed every inch of my thoughts as I allowed my hand to travel low under the warm water, dipping between my legs. Images of her hands and how they move in the air when she speaks lolled my head back along with my own hand. I slipped into a well practiced repetition. The desperation grew quick at the thought of her, almost overwhelming.

The word behave replayed in my head and it didn’t take long at all before I’d reached a peak whispering her name after I did.

To my disappointment it didn’t ease any of the need. It just made it worse to the point where I’d wish I had ignored it all together. I felt more frustrated and turned on than before.

After I’d grumpily dried off and put pajamas on I slunk to the couch to sort and wrap her gifts. I almost felt guilty having just touched myself to the thought of her.

I knew deep down if I told her what that shower just held, I’d hold the possibility of breaking her.

That very thought had the frustration building again. I had to shake my head clear of the wild ideas I was stacking up.

I decided to grab my phone and shoot her a text asking if she was still awake. She replied a minute later saying yes. Her typing bubbles appeared again and in a blink there was a question from her asking how my shower was.

I felt like I was going to explode. I thought long and hard about my reply. I decided on telling her it was nice and warm and let it hold whatever it was meant to hold. Five minutes passed without a reply. I let my phone lay on the couch cushion trying not to worry about it.

I’d finish meticulously wrapping a couple of her gifts and still no reply came through. Maybe it held too much of a suggestion. Maybe I should have said it was a bit cold. Maybe, the mild suggestiveness of it all led to her breaking down like I had in the shower.

That idea alone nearly drove me to madness. I pushed it away telling myself there was no way. Ten more minutes passed when my phone buzzed again. I snatched it up like a woman gone crazed.

‘That’s good.’

I blinked at the basic reply realizing I’d probably just put way too much thought into what was taking so long.

‘Thought you’d fallen asleep.’

A reply came right away this time.

‘Had something I needed to take care of.’

And that had my desperate head right back in the gutter. Thoughts of her clutching hotel bedsheets. The sounds she would make out of her pretty mouth. Her perfect hair messing against a pillow. That crease between her eyebrows showing above panting breaths. I pinched my eyes shut trying to will away every bit of it. I felt so helpless to it, to her. My phone alerted another text.

‘I am about to doze off now though. Goodnight my darling.’

I huffed as I typed back.

‘Goodnight my lovely.’

I added a heart and she was quick to send one back. Somehow I found enough focus through my frazzled state, and finished wrapping gifts. It struck me after I placed them under the lit tree that I’d need to find a way to get them to her. I hadn’t thought much about it until now. I was only free tomorrow morning and she wasn’t going to be around until the afternoon. Maybe I could drop them off at her house for her.

I decided I’d ask her tomorrow and not stress about it.

Eventually I fell asleep, both hands balled up safely under my pillows.

#agatha all along #agatha harkness #agatha x reader #agatha x you #soft agatha #agatha harkness fluff #agatha harkness x reader

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oliversrarebooks · 2 months ago

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The Rare Bookseller Part 96: The Maestro's Ultimatum

Previous > Masterlist > Next

tw: mind control, body control, abuse, violence

December 1925

This was it! Oliver was certain he'd found the very passage his master had been searching for. He was so pleased to be useful for his learned skills, and not merely for his blood and warmth.

With the page number noted and the book safely tucked under one shoulder, Oliver picked up his crutch and stood up as carefully as he could. Even with his crutch, and even with his master dulling the pain, his injured leg was still weak and didn't respond as it should. Still, Oliver had been determined to walk again, even if it was with a cane. He slowly made his way over to the other end of the library, where Alexander was pulling book after book from a shelf, skimming them and putting them in piles.

"Master, I've found the passage."

To his disappointment, his master scowled. "You needn't exert yourself like that, Oliver. All you have to do is call for me, and I can walk to you."

"I only wanted to practice walking, sir. It's no trouble," said Oliver, a bit deflated as he sat on a bench. He only wished that his master would praise him for his attempts, instead of seeming so upset. "And I think you should look at page 243 of this tome."

"So you did find it?" Alexander softened as he took the book from Oliver. "Let's see, page 243… aha!" His eyes darted back and forth as he quickly read the page. "Yes. Yes! Oh, good work!"

"That's the right one, sir?"

"Indeed. It's rare to find texts describing defensive or beneficial spells being placed on vampires, given how witches and vampires are so often at each other's throats, but this -- yes, I think this will hold some important clues." He ran a hand through Oliver's hair fondly. "And I am sorry I snapped at you. I've only been frustrated over the lack of progress. The book you've just found will certainly help, though."

"I only want to be useful to you, sir."

"And you are, most certainly. You're useful to me in many ways. That's why it worries me to see you strain yourself needlessly."

Oliver looked down at his knees. "Perhaps it is selfish of me, but… I wish to walk again, sir. I do very much appreciate all the help you've provided to me, but… I just…"

His master was gathering him into his lap. He'd become far more eager to hold Oliver close ever since Oliver's capture. "I know you don't mean anything by it. And I would like to see you walk. I just can't help but worry. It's my fault that you were injured."

"I don't blame you for it, sir," said Oliver. "I could've… I shouldn't have…"

"Shh, none of that. You're fine." Alexander hummed a few soothing bars, but even that didn't fully quiet Oliver's mind. "Something is troubling you, isn't it? Something other than your leg."

"Well, yes, sir. I can't stop myself from being worried about this plan," said Oliver, fidgeting. "I know you've put a lot of thought into it, and that you're going to take precautions, but will it truly work? What if something happens to you, sir?"

"I wish I could tell you that it was certain to work… but I can't. I have to try anyway," said Alexander. "If I do nothing, if I give up on trying to rid myself of my sire, as I've done in the past, then he'll no doubt rule me forever. I'd have to allow him to do as he pleases with you, and that's the last thing I want."

"I don't want that either, sir." And truthfully, that was his biggest fear about this entire endeavor. Despite all of his master's reassurances, he knew that if Alexander failed at his attempt to kill his sire, then Oliver would end up at his mercy.

"It will be all right, Oliver." His master pulled him closer. "We'll get through my sire's awful ball, and soon, Fitz will arrive. He'll help me try out my theories. If none of them work out, then I won't risk it. I'll find another way."

"I hope they do work, sir." It was almost too much to hope for, a future where Alexander's plan had succeeded, where they were all free of the doom hanging over their heads. Mr. Fitz and Roger would come live with them, and his master would finally be happy and satisfied, and Oliver could make a good life here.

"As do I." Alexander looked thoughtful. "My sire once told me that hope is the worst punishment of all. But I don't think I believe that, not truly. If it weren't for hope, I would have given up long ago, and I would never have met you."

His master began to sing in earnest then, a song of safety and comfort to help Oliver relax. He was counting on Alexander to keep him safe, and that scared him, but at times like this, in his master's arms, he could believe that it would all work out. He wanted to feel safe, and that helped his master's song take root in his mind, soothing him almost to sleep, drifting off as the clock struck the hour.

On the twelfth chime, there was a sharp, rhythmic knock at the door.

All safety and comfort was lost as his master tensed. "No, it can't be."

"Sir, is it --?"

"He has no reason to --"

Another sharp knock.

"Damn it to hell," said Alexander. He picked up Oliver and placed him in his wheelchair. "Oh, we both look a mess. God damn it, why tonight…"

"Sir, is it truly your sire?"

"It's all right. I'm sure he only wants me to run some errand for his party, fetching humans for him or such. I'll agree to it and he'll be on his way," said his master, his shaky tone indicating his fear despite his confident words. He pushed Oliver out of the library and into the entrance.

"Can't I hide, sir?"

"He won't abide by that. No, better to have you out in the open." Alexander ran a hand through his messy hair and tried to smooth down his rumpled shirt as a third knock echoed through the entrance. He opened the door, and Oliver felt sick to see Alexander's sire standing there in the shadows, illuminated only by the weak gas lamp in the hall. Perhaps it was Oliver's terrified imagination, but he seemed to simmer with fury.

"It took an excessive amount of time for you to let me in." Despite his clear anger, his voice was still strangely musical. "Did you suppose that last minute preparations would disguise your glaring flaws?"

"No, sire." Alexander stood up straight. "I have nothing to say to excuse the fact that I wasn't prepared for your visit tonight."

The Maestro's sneer turned to Oliver. "I see that your thrall didn't answer the door."

"He's recovering from his injury, sire."

"You coddle him excessively, of course."

"If I don't allow his leg to properly heal, then he'll never be able to walk, sire," said Alexander evenly.

"Hmph." The Maestro handed Alexander an envelope. "I will require refreshments for the upcoming ball. You will provide me with at least a dozen humans of adequate blood and docility, as is customary. Your requirements are further outlined in these instructions."

"Yes, sire," said Alexander meekly. Oliver couldn't conceal the horror on his face as he looked back at Alexander. Was he truly going to kidnap that many people for his sire? To protect Oliver?

"In the meantime, since your thrall is too weak and feeble to be left to care for himself, I will most graciously take him into my care for the next few days. I expect you to be grateful for this."

Oliver's heart clenched. The thought of staying with his master's sire for even a few days was unbearable. He could, and would, inflict so many unspeakable torments on Oliver in that time. Alexander thought that the time he had blinded Oliver was going easy on him -- what would happen to him if he committed some worse transgression than defending his master? He looked back to his master, hoping for some reprieve.

"That won't be necessary, sire," said Alexander.

The fury threatened to boil over. "I will decide what is and isn't necessary."

For a moment, Alexander was cowed, his face like a kicked puppy, and Oliver was filled with dread that he might not be protected after all.

"No, sire."

"No?" The Maestro imbued the single word with an ocean's worth of contempt.

"I will obtain your refreshments, sire, but there is no need to leave Oliver to stay with you. If I decide that my thrall needs additional care, Lily would be happy to take him in."

Alexander hit the wall with force, the sound of his sire's backhand ringing in Oliver's ears, the violent action so quick that Oliver barely had time to react.

"You still defy me," he said, punctuating every word with rage. "I have given you every, every chance to make up for your myriad shortcomings and you still see fit to try my patience."

"I promised Oliver that I would protect him, sire," said Alexander, struggling to his feet.

"Promise. What do you know about promise?" Grabbing Alexander by the shirt, his sire threw me to the floor. "I have suffered for too long under the delusion that you have promise, infected by the disease of hope ever since I made the poor decision to sire you. Hope that you would rise to your station, that you would make something worthwhile of yourself, that you would use your innate talents to command and subjugate humanity. Instead, I find myself in possession of a vampire so feeble that a mere hunter bested him. I've realized that hope has left me blind."

"Have you finally realized that I'm never going to be what you want me to be?" asked Alexander with a mix of fear and relief.

"Yes, perhaps I finally have. And that means I have little use of you."

"Are you finally going to stake me, sire?" His tone was resigned, as though he knew this day would always come.

Oliver wanted to cry out, but terror stifled his voice into no more than a whimper.

"Stake you, and afford you the release of death? No, I think not."

The Maestro picked up Alexander once more. He struggled and kicked out, but it was to no avail, despite his sire's frail appearance. Alexander was backed into one of his bookcases as his sire grasped his face, forcing him to look into his eyes.

"Sire, what are you…"

"Silence."

Oliver watched helplessly as Alexander's struggles ceased, his sharp eyes growing wide and dull. He was being mesmerized, Oliver realized with a shock, falling under his sire's power just as Oliver once had. The thought of his master's mind being so compromised was terrifying beyond reason. He tried calling out, and realized that he was being kept still by the Maestro's power. He'd been so focused on his master's dire straits that he hadn't fully noticed the control wrapping around him.

Alexander fell into a deep daze, his lips parting slightly as his face and body went slack. Oliver could all too easily recall the bleak and empty hell of the Maestro's mind, where his master was now trapped.

"Lose yourself."

"Yes, sire." Alexander's voice sounded strange and unnatural, stripped of its power and its music.

"You will fetch the humans I need. You will attend the ball with your thrall, both of you appropriate in dress and behavior. You will not humiliate me."

"Yes, sire."

"And if you do humiliate me, you will never leave my manor again," said the Maestro, pressing Alexander into the bookcase. "Perhaps I will wipe your mind, as I should have done years ago. As I should have done even before siring you."

"S-sire…" One of Alexander's hands came up to grasp at his sire's arms, a feeble spark of defiance.

"If I so choose, I will wipe you clean of every memory, every emotion, every scrap of resistance and disobedience, every vestige of personality. You will be the docile spawn you were always meant to be. Agree."

Alexander made a pained choking sound.

"You will obey. You will be my docile spawn. You will agree."

"Yes, sire," said Alexander, the words pulled from his throat.

"This situation is my fault for expecting you to be something more. If I had recognized your worthlessness earlier, it would have spared us both a great deal of pain. However, now that I have recognized this mistake, I will swiftly move to correct it."

Oliver felt himself tilting forward, caught in the Maestro's power even if it wasn't directed at him. Darkness was closing in on his mind, the ticking of a metronome growing louder and more insistent. He needed to obey. His master was obedient, and so Oliver would also fall in line.

"You will never be able to defy my commands again."

"Yes, sir," Oliver mumbled in tandem with his master.

"You will obey my every order without question or hesitation."

"Yes, sire."

"You will cease to hold unauthorized thoughts and beliefs."

"Yes, sir."

The Maestro snapped and released his grip, allowing Alexander to crumple to the floor. He blinked, trying to shake off the trance, as he struggled to his feet. Oliver came to as well, the darkness in his vision receding, the metronome ticking fading but still present.

"I have one more thing for you, child," said Alexander's sire. "Fitzwilliam's invitation."

Even through his daze, there was fear in Alexander's eyes. "He won't be here, sire."

"Yes, he will be." The Maestro advanced on Alexander again, who was once more backed into the bookcase. "Do you think I don't know of Fitzwilliam's comings and goings? I unwisely tolerated it because I thought it would provide incentive for you to behave properly. Perhaps the worst of my unfortunate mistakes -- giving you enough freedom to create a failure of a spawn. It's time to rectify that as well. He will be taken into my fold and wiped clean, taught to mind his place at the feet of his betters, redoing all of his training."

Alexander trembled. "Sire --"

"Perhaps if I am pleased with your behavior at my gala, I will spare you your mind and your memories," said his sire. "But your worthless spawn will have no such reprieve."

"He won't come to you, sire," said Alexander meekly.

"He will, because you can compel it. I will compel you to compel him. There has never been any escape for either of you."

"Sire, if you do this, if you erase both of our minds…" Alexander flinched. "I think you will regret it."

For a moment, the Maestro looked as if he were going to backhand Alexander once more. "I hold uncountable regrets. What's one more?" He spun on his heel and grabbed the handles of Oliver's wheelchair, pushing him towards the door.

"Master!" Oliver called out, turning towards Alexander. "Master, please!"

Alexander took one step towards Oliver before crumpling to his knees.

The Maestro looked back at him. "I will return in five nights for my refreshments, and will temporarily return Oliver so that he can be prepared for the gala. If I detect even the smallest hint of insubordination, I will be forced to revoke even this small leniency and will take possession of you immediately. Is that clear?"

His master's voice was so small and hollow. "Yes, sire."

As Oliver was pushed out into the night, he thought desperately of anything he could do. Attempting to struggle out of the wheelchair would be futile -- even if he were fully able-bodied, the Maestro could so easily put a stop to that by taking control of his body. He thought of the rune, of how he'd trained with Vivian, the scar sore on his arm. But he had no knife, and no way of creating the rune without the Maestro's attention, and any real attempt at struggle would no doubt seal his fate and his master's.

He would have the Maestro's full attention on him now, without even his master to try and defend him, or offer him instruction. There would be nothing, nothing at all, to prevent him from inflicting torment as he pleased.

Previous > Masterlist > Next

Thanks for reading! Next week, Oliver is a guest in the Maestro's manor.

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#whump #whump writing #vampires #mind control #vampire whump #rare bookseller #alexander #oliver #maestro

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marvelfilth · 2 years ago

Text

Off the deep end 3 (18+)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Pairing: ghostface!Sam Carpenter x f!reader

Warnings: canon typical violence

Summary: Ghostface strikes again and you decide to take matters into your own hands

Masterlist

You're met with chaos when you enter the living room. Mindy is pacing, her hands up in the air as she explains something to annoyed Tara. Chad is talking to someone on the phone, his brows furrowed and his knee bouncing up and down rapidly. Anika sits still, her eyes locked on the TV and you follow her gaze, stopping in your tracks when you see the scene.

Ghostface mutilated two men, boys, from your class. Greg, the guy you've helped with multiple assignments is now dead, his fucking head detached from his body. Your eyes are pinned to the reporter at the scene as he continues on the details of the murder.

You fight the urge to throw up.

Sam turns you away from the TV and holds your hands tight, rubbing her thumb over your knuckles. "It's going to be okay," she whispers, "I won't let anything happen to you." She places a kiss on your open palm, and then leads it to her cheek, nuzzling.

But you're not listening. You're far too lost in your thoughts. Sam's here, with you. She was here the whole night and the day before.

Why would you ever think she'd take on the mantle of Ghostface, the very thing that almost ruined her life? It's so obvious now, no matter how hard she tries to hide it, you can see she's shaking ever so slightly. You see her jaw clench.

You see how hard she's trying to hide her emotions.

You pull her in a fierce hug, clinging for dear life, feeling her burrow her face into your neck with a heavy exhale. She's trembling with fear or rage - you're not sure.

You're forced to pull apart when Quinn bursts your bubble, phone in a hand. "My dad wants to talk to you." She glances at your joined hands, but doesn't comment.

Sam pulls away and steps away to a corner of the room, a crease forming between her brows as she listens to whatever detective Bailey has to say. You fight the urge to follow her to ease her worries.

"Are you okay?" The redhead asks.

You nod dazedly, not looking away from Sam.

"Do you want some water? You're kind of really pale," she mumbles.

You shake your head and finally look at her. "I'm fine. Do they know who did it?" You ask, gesturing to the TV.

She sighs. "No. There was only a mask."

You bite your lip, nodding.

Sam appears by your side a minute later, looking more pent up than before. "I need to go to the station," she says, giving the phone back to Quinn.

You knew to expect this, but still, your heart clenches painfully. This is really happening.

"What? Why?" Quinn asks, looking between the two of you.

Sam sighs, running a hand through her hair. You can tell she's conflicted, and the way her eyes keep flickering to the TV makes you reach out to her and grab her face, pinning her with your eyes. "Do you want me to go with you?"

"No. You'll stay here. It's safer." She looks around, her eyes lingering on Chad and Ethan. "Don't leave the apartment, okay?"

She waits for your nod and leaves in a hurry, Tara hot on her heels, and you're left to worry in the company of your friends. Mindy spews out theory after theory, each one wilder than the previous

They get positively horrifying after the fourth one, and you decide to tune her out to keep yourself from spiraling.

Ethan keeps sending you worried looks to which you always smile. The boy is way too sensitive and kind to be caught in this mess. You just hope he'll make it out alive.

"Let's go to my room," Quinn whispers, nudging you subtly.

You mindlessly follow her, eager to get away from the overstuffed room. She pushes you to sit on her bed and pulls out a bottle of cheap gin from her nightstand.

"Don't ask," she mutters.

You keep quiet and take a swing, sinking against her pillows. She joins you on the other side, throwing a hand over your shoulders.

"So what's the deal between you and Sam? You guys finally got your shit together?" She asks out of blue, taking away the bottle so you couldn't stall.

You're thankful for the distraction.

"I don't really know."

"Come on." She clings to your arm. "Give me the deets."

You laugh, but shake your head. "No deets, sorry."

She groans, pushing you away. "Fine. Keep your secrets."

You take back the bottle and take a big gulp, wincing at the taste. Quinn's eyes linger on you, but you pay her no mind, worriedly fiddling with your phone, waiting for Sam's call.

"Who do you think it is?" She breaks the silence before taking a swing.

The hair at the back of your neck stands at the way she looks at you, her eyes dark and pupils blown. A side of her mouth quirks up in a subtle smirk, but you catch it even in your inebriated state.

"What?"

"Oh, come on. You must have a suspect," she presses.

You gulp, sitting up straight. "I don't know, Quinn. I don't think any of our friends are capable of that." You shudder, looking away.

"Well, it's someone who's close to the Carpenters, that's for sure," she mumbles, putting the bottle away.

You don't like where the conversation is heading. The thought of someone close to you slicing people for fun makes your heart drop to your stomach. You think about Chad and Mindy, the way friendship with them came so easily. You think about Anika and her unwavering belief in everything that's good. You think about Ethan and Quinn, two completely opposite people who manage to make you feel welcomed, with the same crooked smile on their lips.

You shake your head. "Maybe it's different this time. Maybe-"

Your phone starts ringing, effectively cutting you off. You glance at the screen.

Unknown number.

Gulping, you look at Quinn, who looks back at you with wide eyes. It's probably the first time you see her unnerved, her hands shaking as she gestures at you to pick it up.

"Hello?" You answer.

You hear a click of the voice changer before the person on the other side speaks.

"Hello, Y/n. What's your favorite scary movie?"

×××

Each of Tara's muffled sobs feels like a stab to Sam's stomach. She tugs her sister closer, looking between the shelves to check where Ghostface is. She still can't believe he attacked them like that, in the middle of the street, and followed them to the store, killing everyone in the way.

She looks at Tara to see her own expression mirrored in the brown eyes, determined and focused.

"Sam?" Her sister mouths, to which she shakes her head, nudging her forward.

They need to get out right now.

She picks up a can from the floor and throws it with all of her might to the other side of the bodega, moving the second Ghostface turns around.

She doesn't flinch when the shotgun fires at the shelves across the room, only tugs Tara harsher, almost dragging her along. They're so close to the door they only need to take a few steps, but that means being seen and she can't afford that, so she waits with a baited breath for a perfect opportunity.

Ghostface moves almost silently, inching closer with each step. Sam knows she's almost out of time, she can see the looming figure in the crack between the shelves. She acts without thinking, pushing as hard as she can against the shelf and burying the masked figure under it.

They waste no time running away, not looking back to see if Ghostface is following them and getting the hell out of that store.

Police sirens greet them at the entrance and Sam exhales with relief, only now allowing herself to look back.

The store is a mess. The mask is left on the floor.

Her ears ring and her hand goes numb from how hard Tara grips it. Her chest heaves with each breath and all she wants to do is go back home, put on the mask and find that motherfucker.

And then a figure rounds the corner and crushes straight into them.

"Oh god, Sam. You're okay," you gasp, clinging to her. "Fuck, I thought-" that's the moment you look back to the store, your mouth dropping open at the sight. You jump back then, looking them both up and down until you're certain they're fine.

"What are you doing here?" Tara asks, her voice wavers. "How did you know?"

You look back at Sam, your eyes wide and watery. The anger in her chest gives way to something warm and tender, and she doesn't resist the urge to scoop you into her arms and drown in your comforting scent.

"I got a call," you hesitantly speak up, voice muffled against her jacket.

"No, we got a call," her sister's voice hardens as she rises to her towering five feet and zero inches.

"Tara, there's no need for this," Sam butts in, pulling away a bit and putting an arm around your shoulders. She senses the change in her sister, the way her shoulder tense even more, the way her eyes stay rooted to yours. "She just got here."

Tara's eyes snap to look at her sister. "And how did she know where to go?"

"Ghostface told me. Tara, I swear." You don't dare to look away from her. You need her to believe.

She nods tersely, but suspicion lingers in her eyes. You sigh in relief. That's all you can ask for.

You turn in Sam's arms and burrow your face into the crook of her neck, adrenaline finally leaving your body as tears start to roll down your cheeks.

You were terrified.

"It's okay. We're okay." Sam reassures, enveloping you in her arms.

You nod, choking on a sob and cling to her even more. Her hands circle your waist, pushing you snug against her as she whispers sweet reassurances into your ear. Tara steps back, her eyes narrowed as she keeps glancing between you and the store.

"Sam." Detective Bailey comes from behind her, making you jump in surprise. "I need you to come to the station with me." His tone is apologetic, but firm. He waits for Sam to nod before walking away to speak to other police officers.

"Go home, okay? I'll get back as soon as I can," she whispers against your temple.

You grip her tighter, but eventually nod.

×××

You wake up to the sound of your alarm. You open your eyes slowly, blinking against the rays of sun that managed to sneak past the heavy curtains, and curse when you realize it's already morning.

So much for staying up and waiting for Sam.

Sighing, you check your notifications and groan when you see thirty texts from Mindy. You text her to let her know you're on your way, putting on some fresh clothes and hurrying out of the door, already late to your class.

You spend half of the day dozing off, empty space next to you signaling that Sam and Tara are still at the station.

"What the fuck, Y/n? First you run out the door like a maniac, and then Tara and Sam get attacked at a bodega. Where were you?" Mindy asks the second you get close enough to hear her, and pulls you along to push you down on one of the benches in the park, Chad glaring at you from behind her shoulder.

You take a moment to respond, gulping at the outright murderous look on Mindy's face. "When Sam left I got a call from Ghostface," you start, and Mindy already opens her mouth to give you a piece of mind, only stopping when Anika tugs her down on her lap. "You probably know the script by now, but they said… well, they said they know Sam's secret and she's going to pay for it, like, right now. So I ran to warn her because she wouldn't pick up her phone, and when I got there it was already late. Ghostface left, but Sam and Tara were fine, thank god." You shudder at the memory.

It's quiet for a moment as Mindy contemplates your answer. "What secret?"

You wince, knowing you're probably a suspect now. "No idea."

Mindy blinks and then nods to herself. "Congratulations, dear Y/n, you just dethroned Ethan as my top suspect."

"Why am I a suspect?" Ethan shrieks, looking up from his book.

"So she's your suspect just because she got a call? Solid evidence." Anika mumbles, earning a withering glare from Mindy. "Babe, I appreciate your input, but it's totally not needed, I'm the expert here."

You sigh, but decide to stay quiet for your own sake. Whatever you say will undoubtedly make you even more of a suspect in her eyes anyway.

You check your phone, biting your lip at the lack of messages from Sam. Quinn looks over your shoulder, a smirk pulling at her lip when she reads some of your texts. You elbow her harshly and she rolls her eyes, scooting away from you.

"Y/n."

You jump up, face heating up when Sam pecks your cheek. You face her slowly, raising a knee to your chest. "Morning, Sam. Tara." You try to smile, but all you can manage is a grimace.

She looks tired, dark circles under her eyes tell you off the night spent in the interrogation room and you wish you were there with her. She moves slowly, looking you up and down. "You-"

"No need," Mindy swiftly interrupts the older girl, jumping up to her feet and pushing Sam and Tara to take a seat. "The interrogation has been taken care of."

Sam rolls her eyes, but doesn't say anything else, nudging Ethan to switch places with him. She settles, sighing deeply and leans on your shoulder, closing her eyes. You bite back a smile, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"Did you get home safe?" Tara asks, voice laced with suspicion.

She looks even worse than last night, her hair a mess, her eyes tinged red. You're ready for her to chew you out, no doubt she spent the night overthinking your every word.

You gulp, feeling Sam stiffen. "Yeah."

"So you get a call, they tell you exactly where to go and then you appear right after Ghostface leaves, when it's safe. Convenient," she grumbles, shaking her head.

"Can you leave her alone?" Ethan exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. "She's your suspect, we got it. Let's just move on."

Quinn nods, "You should've seen her face when she got the call. I thought someone died or something."

Tara sends you one last shrewd look before huffing and crossing her arms with a pout.

You curse yourself for being so stupid yesterday.

Sam's lips brush against the crook of your neck, muttering, "She'll come around, don't worry."

You nod stiffly, nose burrowed in her soft hair. Her lips leave a quick peck on your shoulder before straightening up and poking you in the ribs teasingly. You can't help but admire her strength - she was attacked mere hours ago and now she's back to her usual self.

Either her therapist is working overtime or she's found some way to let all that pent up anger out.

"You're protecting her, how sweet," Mindy coos before schooling her features into her best bad cop look. "What a coincidence that you two are my suspects too. Ethan. The shy and dorky guy who no one suspects because he's so shy and dorky. And, oh wait, you're awfully close to my main suspect." She rolls on the balls of her feet gesturing wildly, as she goes off on a rant.

It goes on for ages, making Ethan uncomfortable and squirmy.

"Mindy," you butt in, yearning a glare from Tara, but it gets her to stop and finally move on to the next suspect.

Quinn.

You stay quiet this time, listening to every word Mindy says. You've had this nagging feeling about the redhead ever since you saw that smirk on her face. It still sends shivers down your spine.

Sam notices the way you seem to shrink into her and sends you a questioning look, but your attention is on Quinn.

Mindy mentions something about cops and you perk up. "Why is your dad on the case?" You hurriedly ask.

Mindy's mouth snaps shut mid sentence, but she seems to appreciate the question, turning to face Quinn properly, hands on her hips.

Quinn rolls her eyes with a huff. "You think I know? It's literally his job, but he probably did it to keep an eye on me."

Mindy shakes her head, musing about the conveniences of having a cop dad. You tune her out, basking in the warmth of Sam's embrace. She smiles softly, and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. In this moment, no matter how short, you feel blissfully content.

When Mindy is finally done with her rant, Anika reminds you of your last class, speaking softly so as not to ruin the moment. You groan and untangle from Sam, making the older girl pout. Your lips meet in a chaste kiss before Anika finally tugs you away, too afraid of your new professor to be late.

You look back one last time to see Sam angled to your friends, giving them a piece of her mind by the looks of it.

It's not until you're done with your last class that Tata finds you in one of the halls.

"Y/n! Wait," she calls out, jogging to you.

You fiddle with your fingers, not really prepared for the conversation that's about to take place.

"God, you're fast," she gasps, using your shoulder for support as she bends over.

She takes her time getting her breathing under control and her hand feels scalding hot on your shoulder, making you squirm uncomfortably.

Finally, after a long moment, she looks up, a guilty look on her face, "I'm sorry," she starts, worrying a strap of her backpack. "For earlier. For accusing you and being a bitch."

You want to protest - you don't think she was being a bitch - but she stops you with a pointed look.

"Let me apologize." She waits for your nod before continuing. "You didn't deserve us jumping you like that, it's unfair to you. I just… It still hurts, you know? My best friend made a pin cushion out of me, and this situation is just a big fucking reminder. Because… you're my best friend, okay? You're like a breath of fresh fucking air and I love you for it, but every time someone gets attacked my brain just immediately goes to the worst case scenario and I can't help it." The words rush out and there's a steady stream of tears running down her cheeks. You desperately want to pull her in a hug, but she has your hands in a vice grip, keeping you in place, needing you to listen. "But I don't want to lose you. Not to Ghostface, and not because I was too afraid to trust you. So please, please, don't hurt me, okay? And don't hurt Sam. Don't you dare hurt Sam."

You barely manage a shaky nod before you're pulled in a bone crushing hug. You hold her close, blinking away tears as she cries freely into your shirt, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs.

"I promise," you whisper, a plan already forming in your head.

×××

In your defense, you've sent Sam a text the second you stepped inside your apartment.

Bailey called later in the evening, apologizing profusely and claiming he needed her at the station again. She left only after you promised her you'd stay home this time, no matter what. As expected, Tara went with her, leaving you with Quinn who invited yet another fling to the apartment.

So you took your chance and rushed to your place. You did cross your fingers when you made that promise, after all.

You don't want to unnecessarily worry Sam and you're sure she won't be able to read the text until she's done at the station, so you hide a knife under one of your cushions and settle on your couch to wait.

You're sure Ghostface will show up.

You ignore the rising panic in your chest. You know you have to do this for your sake and for the sake of your friends, no matter how scary it is.

You've had an urge to do this for weeks, but you were never brave enough, preferring to stay in the safety of Sam's room. Now it's necessary. Now it feels like your only option. And your conversation with Tara only spurred you on.

You don't know how many of them there are, but you know that the one you need will show up sooner or later.

Minutes tickle by and you grow restless, shifting unnecessarily and looking at every visible corner, jumping up every time a car passes by your apartment.

Eventually, your exhaustion from the night before spent running around and panicking catches up to you and you nod off, falling into a deep sleep on your fluffy couch.

You wake up to continuous tapping against your coffee table.

You yawn and rub your eyes, before groaning and stretching your stiff neck. You blink, adjusting to the darkness in the room, your hand nudging against something sharp, and that's when you fully wake, jumping up in alert and grasping the knife in a tight grip. You slowly turn to face the source of the sound.

Ghostface sits on the loveseat, her legs crossed and her posture entirely relaxed as she playfully taps her knife against the glass of your coffee table.

You take a second to gather your courage and lunge.

_________________________

Literally Sam when R did that:

#sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter x reader #ghostface!sam carpenter #ghostface!sam x reader #ghostface!sam #melissa barrera x reader #off the deep end #sam carpenter smut

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benevolentcalamity · 9 months ago

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Beautiful Little One [Dad!Mihawk x Fem!Reader]

A quick note before we get started, I am only at a certain point in Enies Lobby. (You may know the one.) So like with Crocodile, please refrain from spoilers/fan theories.

Kay thanks, enjoy! Also hot diggity dog I vibe with this aesthetic so hard.

Btw I'm not confident in writing Mihawk since I haven't seen much of him, so pointers would be appreciated. Thanks fam! ^^

Content warning: Childbirth, breastfeeding (I don't know if that needs it, just in case.)

CURTAINS!

Labor was long and torturous.

Blinking in and out of consciousness, you don't recall if you've seen the sun rise and fall even once. The days leading up to this point have all raced together, melted like wax until they're indiscernible. For all you're aware, this baby had been ready to come out since Roger's execution.

A nurse takes the little red mass from beneath your hips, carrying it over to the bucket. Wearily you attempt to lift your head, squinting to see it through the fuzzy world of colors. Violent tremors overtake your body, forcing you back down, another nurse at your side in seconds.

Light pierces into your eye, your lips parted and your tongue pulled out. Your neck and wrists are prodded along the faint sensations of wiping along your legs. Sucking in a breath through your teeth, your one hand comes up to your forehead, eventually your arm falling across your eyes like limp noodles.

"Congratulations, Miss [Name]," You hear through the haze. "She's a healthy little princess."

Eased upright and propped against some pillows, you tear your eyes open, finally beginning to regain focus. Reaching out, you watch the little red blob being carried back to you. As the fog clears, you gaze upon her face, calming from cries you could not hear, and her little hand grips your awaiting pointer.

"... Is he still outside...?" You vaguely recall him coming, or trying to.

"Hawk...eye?" A nurse trembles. "Um... let me go look..."

Your gaze falls to the baby. She's calm and serene, finally in your arms. As her soft coos fill the air, the previous days become but a fleeting dream... No, the pain and sickness of pregnancy is all beyond you, all of it having lead up to her being here. It's all worth it - she's here, and both of you are fine.

Her eyes slowly pry open, gazing up at you. Their amber hue doesn't pierce you at all, but rather it's a warm glow. Not as sharp, not as striking as her father's, but one day, they will be as strong. If she's anything like him... which is quite the opposite of a far cry.

creak

Your head lifts back up, turning towards the opening door. Shadowed by the trembling nurse, Mihawk comes in a bit slowly, as though waiting for you to tell him 'not right now'. To be frank you'd be chuckling if you weren't absolutely drained right now. Gently stroking the child's head you manage an assuring smile.

"Dracule..." You murmur, the nurses leaving to give you some privacy. "Come here... hold her..."

Picking up the pace, he leans over to kiss your brow. "Forgive me, that I wasn't here for the whole thing."

Shaking your head, you maintain your smile, delicately passing her into his awaiting arms. At first it's hard to gauge his expression even with his hat off. His one hand comes up, stroking her little head as her eyes gaze curiously up at him. With a coo from her he brings her up to his face, peppering her little cheek with tickling kisses.

"Hello, little one..." He breathes, an uncharacteristic softness in his voice.

Through her giggles you sigh, relieved. "Isn't she beautiful...?"

He nods, holding her to his chest. "She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." Given how much he's seen on the seas, that's a hard accomplishment, surely. "... We haven't decided on a name for her."

Simpering, you reach to put a hand on his arm. "Well, you have so many good ones."

"As do you." He kisses her forehead. "... I've had Lenore in my mind."

Your senses return fully. "That's a beautiful name. I like it, too."

Holding her up, you notice his cheek crease with a smile as his beard tickles Lenore. For a moment he's completely lost, taking all of her in. From how his head tilts to foil her attempts to grab his beard, to the way his poking fingers tickle her belly, he's spellbound by her. Bringing her close, he kisses her forehead, noticing her beginning to fuss.

Delicately he passes her back to you, and for what must be the first time, a genuine smile is on his lips as you tug the blanket down to breastfeed.

"... Thank you."

Your eyes flicker up to him from her latching. "For what?"

"For the love you've given me, for the light you've brought to my heart..." His hand reaches forward, scooping yours up. "... And for Lenore."

"You..." You falter. "... Dracule..." Lucky you, Lenore has eaten her fill, drifting back into slumber.

"Oh." He notices your exhaustion, kissing your forehead. "I'll find the nurses, worry not. Here, allow me..." Gentle he pulls her from your lap, helping you lie back down. "Get some rest. You've done well."

As you drift off into the stillness, you feel him pull the blankets over your shoulders.

"... So long as I live, you and Lenore will be safe. I promise."

#anime #one piece #one piece fanfiction #one piece fic #one piece fluff #dracule mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #one piece mihawk #mihawk x reader #op mihawk #op hawkeye

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astroboots · 2 years ago

Text

Every You Every Me | Issue #7

COLLABORATED WITH @thirstworldproblemss

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You finally get some answers out of Miguel about who you are to him.

Word count: 5,700 words.

Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | thirstworldproblemss' Masterlist

[Previous] [Next]

"So let's take it from the top," you tell him, as you sit down and put down the Trenta-sized caramel flavored hot chocolate with extra whipped cream and chocolate syrup in front of the man named Miguel O'Hara.

The two of you are sitting across from each other at a small booth at the nearest Starbucks you were able to find, seeing as you're homeless now, and there's nowhere else you could think of to go.

He's dressed in a large fitted hoodie that drapes down to his thighs. Where he's managed to find something that is oversized in length on him, you don't know because he's not exactly short.

"I'm from a dimension known as Earth-928," Miguel says.

Before he can continue, you raise one hand, and you can see his right eyebrow twitch unhappily at the interruption.

"Yes?"

"Just to clarify, so we don't have another ‘coffee cake’ misunderstanding. When you say Earth-928, do you mean a different version of the Earth we’re on now? Or is this a habitable planet in another galaxy that happens to be partially named Earth?"

"It's a parallel universe characterized by distinct physical parameters and initial conditions, accounting for the diverse manifestations of our observable universe. So still Earth," he says, sweeping his gaze across the café, nose wrinkling the way one does when there's something off-putting in their vicinity. "Just a little bit less primitive."

Of course he would say that, wouldn't be able to resist the jab would he.

You peer up at him across the table. He is very technical and thorough with his explanations. But as grateful as you are for him finally being willing to answer your questions, you hadn't expected those answers to be quite so information dense. You need to pick your questions more carefully or you are going to have to go down the street to buy yourself a notebook in order to keep up.

"How did you end up on this Earth?" you ask.

"Where I'm from, I'm a scientist, a researcher. One of the things I studied was the theory of physical cosmology and the existence of the multiverse. My work was concentrated on the theoretical ability to navigate between distinct universes within a hypothetical multiverse–”

Ah shit, you should've been more narrow in your question. Should have asked him to simplify it a bit more for you. Because now you're sitting here blinking up at him, pretending you understand half of what he's saying.

It makes sense that he’s STEM. He speaks like the type. Smart as hell with none of the social skills to gauge whether the other person is following the conversation.

Listening to him reminds you of that time in college, when you'd walked into the wrong lecture hall, wound up in advanced chemistry instead of your math class, felt too awkward to leave and just sat there drawing doodles with an attentive expression until the class was over.

And he’s still at it, “– employing advanced mechanisms that manipulate or transcend conventional spacetime frameworks, enabling exploration–"

"Okay, wait, hold on a sec," you interrupt, once it becomes obvious he’s not going to stop any time soon on his own. "Can you... simplify, please?"

He stops mid-sentence, taking a deep breath as he looks up at the ceiling and considers your request, with a serious expression as if he's thinking really hard on it. "I’m a scientist. I study the multiverse. I built a parallel universe traversal device, it allows me to visit different dimensions." Your brain feels insulted that it clearly took more mental effort for him to dumb it down for you than to just give the supergenius version.

“So… a machine that allows you to jump between alternative universes?”

“Yes.”

There’s a pause between you as you run through the questions in your mental list you want to tick off now that he’s turned cooperative and talkative. But with everything that’s happened in the last handful of hours, a lot of the questions you previously had seemed outdated. The one question, the most important one, you’ve wanted to ask from the start though remains.

"Who am I to you?"

Miguel takes the large sized drink in his even larger hands and somehow this big paper cup still manages to look tiny in his grip. "You and I were... involved," he says.

You frown. ‘Involved’ is such a vague term. It belongs in the trash with other useless terms to describe relationships: “situationship”, “complicated”, you hate them all.

"So I was your girlfriend?"

"Yeah, something like that," he concede, fidgeting with the thin gold chain looped around his neck, his eyes not quite meeting yours, like he's embarrassed to use the term.

‘Something like that,’ you chew on his answer unhappily, sympathizing with your other dimensional self and how the other you seemed to have snagged a commitment phobe.

Other-you, who isn’t here in this dimension with Miguel. You wonder why that is.

"What happened to me?" you ask.

His eyes are glued to the table, not looking up at you as he answers you in a voice so quiet you can barely hear it. "She died."

"Oh."

The revelation shouldn’t take you by surprise.

Every time Miguel’s brought up your other self, it’s been tinted with earth-shattering sadness. It's not hard to put one and one together and come to the conclusion that whatever happened to you in this other dimension didn't end happily.

Still it's an odd feeling to know that out there, somewhere, a version of you has died. A version of you that was clearly very important to the man in front of you.

"I'm sorry," you tell him.

It feels silly to say. It's bizarre to give your condolences over your own parallel death, but Miguel looks so heartbroken. He’s slumped in his seat, large shoulders rounded until his frame looks so much smaller than you're used to, and you don't know what else to do.

"So what is happening to me now," you start, not sure how to word what the phenomena that you're going through is, "these continuous near-death experiences, is that how she died?"

"Yeah."

"And do you know why that... kept happening to her? Why is it happening to me?"

"I don't, and I don't know how to stop it. Believe me I tried."

He cradles the paper cup in his hands, the grip a little bit tighter now until he's creasing the paper and the caramel liquid oozes and leaks from the top.

"What I do know is that the universe isn’t going to stop trying to kill you, no matter what you do. And with every near death incident you manage to survive, these incidents will escalate in nature, until..." he stops, eyes flickering away from the cup to meet yours, but it's like he loses courage and doesn't want to say the last part.

"Until, what?" you prompt.

"Until your dimension collapses."

The blood freezes in your veins. "Wait, collapses!? What do you mean?"

"I can't guarantee it will happen again. But that's what happened last time. When the other you kept cheating death, the universe eventually started to collapse in on itself."

You slump back in your chair, trying to process what you've just been told. What does that mean? That even if you managed to defy all odds to survive, doing so would doom the rest of this universe as you know it?

"When will that happen?" you ask, and you're surprised you manage to get the words out because there is a hard lump in your throat that makes it hurt to even swallow.

"Judging from the trajectory and escalation of events, you have about three months give or take."

The two of you sit in heavy silence, for the moment you're not sure what else to ask him. Because it feels like you are trapped in a building looking for an exit sign, but all that’s tacked onto the brick wall is your death certificate, waiting to be signed and formalized.

There’s no way out. Nowhere to go.

"Give me your hand," he says, breaking the silence.

You give it to him without hesitation, watching, puzzled, as he takes off his watch and secures it around your wrists.

"Why are you giving me your watch?"

"It's not a watch," he says, then he presses something on the face of it, and an image of a young woman flickers into existence in the space above your wrist, vaguely see-through. A hologram!

"This is Lyla," he introduces.

Wait, wait? Lyla? As in your mom Lyla? You watch the tiny woman floating above your wrist. Short bob-cut, and flashy heart-shaped sunglasses, with a twinkle in her eye.

The hologram looks nothing like your mom. You part your mouth, about to ask about the name but you're interrupted by the energetic buzz of a female voice greeting you.

"Boss-girl! Long time no see. Want me to catch you up on the latest multiversal gossip? I compiled an edit of highlights set to Despacito."

"Lyla," Miguel warns, tersely. "Not now."

"Ruuuuude! You're the one who woke me up you know."

"Lyla, go back to sleep."

The female avatar grumbles, but then her image flickers away and the watch turns back into, as far as you can tell, just an ordinary watch.

"Why did you name the watch Lyla?"

"It's not a– " He cuts himself off, sighing with exasperation. "Lyla is an advanced A.I. she's going to be with you at all times. She's an added layer of security, built to protect you."

He didn't answer your question. Completely sidestepped it as if the two of you are having two different conversations.

Built to protect you, he'd said. Does that mean he still intends to do that?

"So you're not going to leave?" you ask him.

He leans back in his seat, eyes drifting towards the table. "No."

You look up at him, stumped. Not sure you're understanding what he's saying. Because not even a few hours ago, when the two of you were in your apartment, this man was adamant there was nothing to be done to save you. That he was going to leave and you were never going to see him again.

Right now though, his actions seem to be contradictory to that. You can't make heads or tails of him. Hot and cold doesn’t even begin to cover it.

"Why not?" you ask, "I mean, not that I’m not grateful, but you seemed pretty set on the whole ‘I can’t save you’ thing. What changed your mind?"

“You did.” His eyes narrow as he looks down at you, crossing his arms ever his chest, "You told me you wanted to live. Have you changed your mind already?"

“Wha– NO! I just want to know why you changed yours.”

“I–” He hesitates, another wave of sadness passing over his face. “I’m a superhero. I save people… or try to. It’s what I do. I’m not gonna just leave you to die after you tell me you want to live.”

It’s a good answer, even if you don’t buy that it’s the whole truth.

You look down at your wrist, and the shiny chrome of the not-watch he's just gifted you winks back up at you. "Do you think I have a chance of surviving all this?"

"It's pretty hopeless," he says, and there’s no break in his expression as he continues. "Your chances of making it out alive are pretty much mathematically impossible."

It's odd though. Even though he's outlining the futility of your situation, basically telling you to raise the white flag and surrender, there's something contradictory in the tone of his voice.

"What do you want to do?" he asks you.

It’s a challenge, you realize. An encouragement. He has faith in you. It's all of these things rolled into one. As if he's telling you to prove the universe wrong.

"I want to live," you answer. "If the universe collapses in three months, then please stay with me. Give me time to solve this and find a way to stay alive."

His mouth curls into a hint of a smile. The very first you've seen from him since you've met. It's bright and boyish, erasing the harsh lines of his stern expression until it gives way for something much softer underneath that makes your heart leap in your chest with triumph.

You grin, a strange elation of happiness buzzing in you as you stretch out your hand to him, in an invitation for a handshake to seal the deal.

"Deal?"

Miguel leans over the table, clasping your hand in his much larger one as he squeezes it back gently.

"Deal." That small smile from before is still there. "So what's next?" he asks.

The thing you never realized, being an ordinary person bereft of super genes or other superhuman powers is just how convenient commuting can be if you have them.

No longer do you have to brave the Lynchian nightmare that is the NYC subway system. Half-naked manic street preachers giving sermons as you’re held hostage, with nowhere else to go in the carriage. Being chased down by a drunk trumpeting Mariachi band. Instead, all you need to do to get from point A to point B (A: being the Chrysler building and B: the building formerly known as your home) is to hold on tight to Miguel as he swings you both above the city gridlock.

You imagine that this is what paragliding must feel like, except it's so much better because here you don't have to do the safety training beforehand or pay $3,000 for the privilege.

The city skyline is a dark evening blue, dotted with the sparkling lights of office buildings, cab roof lights and street lamps, as the wind ruffles through the fabric of your clothes.

It's such a different sight when you're flying above instead of walking on the streets below, that you don't even clock that you're in your neighborhood, until you see a building with a collapsed wall that's been blocked off, looking like a crash site. Only then do you realize... you're home.

Miguel carefully sets you down on your feet on a small patch of concrete that is clear of the rubble and destruction.

"Why did you want to come back here again?" he asks.

It’s a good question. Now that you're here, standing in the middle of charred debris and cracked bricks, you're not sure either. You had some vague plans of seeing what you could salvage, hoping for some clothes, maybe your electric toothbrush, or really just any of your stuff. Something that’s yours, no matter how small, to hold on to after the events of today have ripped away life as you know it.

But there’s nothing left. The furniture, all your books and knick knacks, and even your dirty laundry piles have been demolished. Your home as you know it is gone. There's only piles and piles of rubble and traces of white fire extinguisher foam on the ground. The fire has been out for hours, but the pungent smell of smoke and sulfur still pervades the air.

"You okay?" Miguel asks.

He's still standing at the outer edges of the apartment, close to where your window would have been if a helicopter hadn't crashed through it.

"Yeah... I guess the silver lining is that I didn't have anything expensive. Though it'd been nice if I could've saved my mom's Le Creuset set or at least the nanny-cam so I could return it and get a refund," you joke glibly.

You nudge aside some concrete rubble with the cap of your shoes. There's nothing under there, no treasured memorabilia that's still miraculously intact. Just more burnt concrete and rubble.

"Why did you have a nanny cam?"

You turn around at his question, to see him hovering close to you, one eyebrow raised with an unhappy set to his jaw.

From the displeased expression on his face, he's probably misunderstanding something here. Probably thinks you're operating a very unlucrative Onlyfans business, when what you've really been doing is spy on him and his nightly visits. You don't know which is worse to confess to, so you don't confess to anything.

"No reason," you say, ignoring the way his already raised eyebrow twitches with irritation at your lack of an answer.

"Come on, let's go," he says, and he waves towards you in a come hither motion like he's commanding a dog.

"Go?" you ask him. "It's past midnight. My place, as you can see, is wrecked. Go where exactly?"

Miguel shoots you a strange look. "A hotel," he says, like it's the most obvious thing, and– okay, he's not completely wrong in that assumption.

Problem is, you didn't have time to pick up your wallet or phone before your impromptu interdimensional visit. They’ve been incinerated along with all the rest of your worldly possessions, which means you don't have any way to pay for a hotel.

Plus Manhattan hotel prices average $400 a night. Even if you still had access to your debit cards, your budget’s pretty tight right now after all the capital you invested in your unhinged quest to trap the superhero before you.

"In the city? I don't have that kind of money and it will take months for any insurance payouts to come in."

You should know. As an insurance claims adjuster, you know you’ll be lucky if your claim is processed before the end of the year. And, ugh, just the thought of the paperwork you’ll have to fill out is enough to give you an anxiety migraine.

"I’ll cover the room," Miguel says casually before holding out a hand to you, "Come on, let’s go."

When Miguel said he’d cover it, you expected a reasonably-priced room at one of the Days Inn across the river or the like. Hopefully a place with no rats or bed bugs, and maybe clean bedding over a somewhat comfortable mattress for you to pass out on if you were lucky.

You didn't expect this.

Standing in front of the Midtown Four Seasons, you find yourself on sleek marble so polished you can see your own reflection. You haven't even stepped a foot inside yet and there are two old fashioned doormen, wearing immaculately fitted suits, with an even more impressive posture opening the majestic double-set doors for you as you approach.

It's swanky as hell, and you can’t help gawking like a tourist, eyes glued to the decadent carved ceilings that must be at least 30 feet tall, soaring above you. Honey-colored limestone that looks like it’s been looted from Ancient Rome.

You feel more than a little bit out of place. This is way outside of your budget. You could probably work your job for a lifetime, and not have enough disposable income to stay the night at a place like this.

"Uhm, Miguel... this place is way too–" you start, turning towards him.

But as you were busy lamenting the state of the housing market, he's already walked away from you (for such a bulky guy, he moves swiftly and silently) and as you whip your head around to find him, he's already standing in front of the receptionist.

Damned antelope legged man, would it kill him to wait up for you once in a while? You run up after him and have to tip-toe in order to see over his shoulder because the giant mammoth is blocking the check-in counter.

And wow, even the receptionist here is of a different caliber than the ones you'd find at Holiday Inn. A fashionable bob-cut with razor sharp edges, looking like a model cut out from a Vogue cover.

"Do you have a reservation, Sir?"

You half-expect him to say no, and that the two of you would have to tuck your tail between your legs and walk out of here to the backdrop of a sad trombone playing.

To your astonishment he says your name. The receptionist tip-taps away at her keyboard and then she nods and smiles gracefully at you both.

"Yes of course. After reviewing your reservation details, I am pleased to inform you that all necessary arrangements have already been made, including advance payment and verification of your identification. Your room is ready for you, we trust you will enjoy your stay."

She flashes you a pearly white smile so shiny it's almost blinding and hands you a hotel key card.

When you turn around, to your confusion Miguel is no longer next to you. How does he keep disappearing like this?

"Cielito," Miguel’s voice calls. The nickname doesn’t register at first. It doesn't even occur to you that he’s referring to you, until he barks it out a second time.

Your head darts up to see him standing by the elevator, tapping his feet impatiently as he waits for you to make it over to him.

"How did you do that?" you whisper loudly to him as you step into the elevator. "Where did you get my ID? How did you make a reservation? How did you--"

He takes your hand, mid-sentence, turning your wrist upwards and taps the watch.

"The computer systems in this universe are child's play for Lyla to manipulate. Reservations, money, ID, she can take care of all of that easily," he explains.

"She can do that?" you ask, and Miguel merely nods at you as the elevator closes behind the two of you.

You tip your head down to inspect your gifted watch. In awe of this technical marvel that would make Siri look like it’s from the stone-ages. You wonder if she can boost your credit scores. She could probably hack any wi-fi password so you'd never have to worry about data throttling again. She could get you table reservations for Libertine! The possibilities are endless!

You turn to Miguel. "Can Lyla get me Beyoncé tickets?" you ask.

He just shakes his head at you with what almost qualifies as an amused smile.

The room upstairs is massive.

It’s easily three times the size of your little studio apartment, and the ceilings are twice as tall, with a hanging glass chandelier that’s sparkling bright enough to blind you. It looks like one of those places featured in Architectural Digest.

Everything is in an art deco style, with expensive looking furniture and even more expensive art hanging on the one spare wall that isn’t covered in floor to ceiling windows. There are large shelves and a sleek looking kitchen, complete with an opulent looking velvet lounge chair of emerald green that looks like something a Roman emperor would be fed grapes on.

In this colossal space of a room, there is only one bed. One colossal, plush-mattress-topped, goose down duvet and probably 1,000,000,000 thread count sheet covered bed.

You tense up, not sure what the arrangements Miguel had in mind. Did he want the two of you to sleep in the same bed?

Miguel did pay for the room, so you’re not going to start voicing objections. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time in the short time span that you two have known each other to do that. This bed is also a lot wider than your tiny double bed, so it wouldn’t be the cramped disaster it was last night. You’d just have to make sure to use the bathroom before bed this time so he doesn’t jab your full bladder in the morning again.

Without saying anything, Miguel strides across the length of the room with impatient and determined steps. His hand reaches for the balcony doors and slides them open.

"Wait wait, where are you going?" you ask him as you run up to the middle of the room.

“I’m sleeping outside,” he says over his shoulder, and your mind boggles with that.

“Why? Isn’t it better for you to stay here?”

"This is the 62nd floor. That’s about as safe as you’re going to get. I’ll keep a lookout to make sure no more helicopters come crashing in.”

You’re not sure if he means the last part as a joke or not, but as you watch his broad back retreating as he walks away from you, a sickening sort of the deja vu twists through your chest.

I can’t save you, he’d said back in your apartment, Nothing can.

The feeling clawing at your chest feels alarmingly like panic. It screams that he’s leaving you. That he’s never coming back. That you’ll never see him again.

You’re being irrational, and you know it. You remind yourself that he wouldn’t have done this much for you only to bail in the middle of the night, but that doesn’t stop the fear that’s festering, sharp and urgent, under your skin, or the way your heart races, your whole body flashing hot and cold at the same time.

You want him to stay.

“Miguel,” you call out, and he immediately stops and turns to look back at you, one eyebrow raised in a skeptical question.

Please stay.

You open your mouth, but the words won’t come out. You can’t ask this man—this big, sarcastic, rude hulk of a man—to have a sleepover with you because you’re scared to be alone in the dark. He would laugh you out of the hotel room.

“Uhm… thank you,” you say instead, but it’s no less sincere, “For everything.”

His eyes soften, the sharp narrowness of them easing up. “It’s fine,” he mumbles, and despite the cold chill of the evening, you think you can see a faint flush blooming in his cheeks, before he quickly ducks his face from you. “I’ll be right outside if something happens.”

He turns back around and walks out, closing the patio doors with a gentle click behind him, leaving you by yourself.

It’s quiet.

You survey the empty room you’re in. Without Miguel’s large frame taking up space, it seems even bigger than it did before.

It’s a beautiful room. Something that you’re pretty sure you’ve seen in a movie set. You don’t know why you’re not as excited as you were before. This is you living your Pretty Woman moment. You should be filling up the big jacuzzi tub you saw with bubbles. Heck, maybe ask Lyla to order you a bottle of champagne from room service.

Instead, your eyes linger on the glass patio doors leading to the balcony terrace. You walk over to the bed, perching yourself down on the edge of the mattress, then flop down.

Might as well try to sleep, you think to yourself as you climb under the covers and switch off the light. The best thing you can do right now is catch yourself some rest so you’ll be alert while trying to figure out your next steps tomorrow.

3 months… That’s what Miguel told you.

That’s all the time you have left.

That means you don’t have time to waste, but you also have no idea where to start. The local library doesn’t exactly carry any resources on how to stop the universe from trying to kill you.

The Universe.

An infinite cosmos, grander than any human being can possibly comprehend. This vast space containing all the galaxies with its billions of stars and planets, where an individual being does not even register as a speck, and it wants you dead. How can you possibly fight against those odds?

You lie wide-eyed and awake staring into the dark of the room, and the feeling of dread gnaws into you.

You don’t want to be alone right now. Turning in the bed, your eyes find their way back to the blank slate of the pitched night outside the balcony doors.

You really wished he had stayed with you.

Sitting upright in the bed, you consider your options. You can lie back down. Suffer insomnia and the existential horror of knowing the universe is trying to murder you. Or you can man up, swallow down whatever tiny morsel of your pride you have left and ask Miguel to come back inside and stay with you.

Flinging the duvet from your body, you get up to walk over to the balcony. You hesitate for a moment before tapping the window pane the way you might knock on a door, giving a polite head's up before you slide the balcony patio open. But when you poke your head out, turning your head left and right, Miguel's nowhere to be found.

Okay, that’s weird. He said he’d be right outside if you needed him. You walk up to the ledge of the balcony terrace, leaning over the rail and peer down to see him dangling upside down, from the ledge of your balcony. The sight nearly makes you scream.

"Miguel!”

At you calling his name, he pulls himself up, one clawed hand gripping at the concrete wall as he climbs his way up and over to you. He makes it look easy, as if gravity does not exist for him, and it’s only a moment until he’s perched on the ledge of the balcony, facing you.

“What’s wrong?” he demands, eyes concerned, and you’re suddenly aware of how very close he is. His face mere inches from yours, your noses nearly touching.

“What’s wrong? You’re hanging upside down from the 62nd floor! What are you, a bat?!"

“Why did you come out here?” he clarifies, and his words give you pause. You try to gather your thoughts after the bizarre sight you just walked into and remember what you came out here for.

He’s still looking at you with his full and intense concentration that makes your skin prickle with warmth.

God, it’s embarrassing to ask. You feel like you’re five years old, asking your parents to turn the nightlight on, even though you know you’re a big girl now and aren’t supposed to be afraid of monsters hiding under your bed any more.

You look down on your hands, where you’re wringing them together, then back up at him, and make yourself spit it out, "Could you… maybe… stay with me tonight?"

His eyes widen at your question, but he doesn’t actually answer you and gives you no physical indication one way or the other.

"I feel safer when you're with me,” you admit.

“I am with you out here,” he counters, because of course he can’t make this easy for you.

“I can’t see you out here.”

The line of his shoulder eases, and he ducks his head down with a resigned sigh. "Fine. Get back inside, Cielito. You're going to catch a cold like this."

You shuffle back inside to your bed, watching out of the corner of your eye as he follows you inside and settles himself on the lounge sofa. He’s so tall that his feet are sticking out over the armrests, like a long-legged stork.

Hiding a smile, you climb back into bed, wrapping the bedding all around yourself.

“Good night,” you call out, and he makes a grumpy noise of acknowledgment.

Your head drops back onto the soft pillow, and you close your eyes, ready to sleep. It’s such a nice bed. The sheets are cool and soft against your skin and smell of fresh eucalyptus. The mattress is the most comfortable you ever remember resting on, firm but somehow soft at the same time. You feel like you’re sleeping on a cloud.

Moments go by, and you revel in the sumptuous bed, waiting for the best sleep of your life to claim you.

Except it doesn’t.

Somehow… you still can’t fall asleep. Is it… too soft maybe? You turn in the bed, twisting your torso to get into a position you can comfortably sink into, but something doesn’t feel right. There’s no lumpiness like at home, but that should be a good thing.

Except… despite the decadent softness of the bed. Despite the fact that the sheets probably have a thread count with more zeros than your checking and savings accounts combined. Despite all of the luxury that surrounds you, you still find yourself tossing and turning and wide fucking awake.

The bed is too big. You don’t know what to do with all this space. Your body is not accustomed to this sort of decadence. What if you suffocate sinking into this soft fluffy pillow in your sleep? What if you toss and turn until you fall off this massive bed and break your neck? Maybe that’s how out of all of the universe’s attempts to kill you, you end up dying?

Fuck!

You can’t sleep.

You turn to your side and stare into the velvet lounge chaise on the opposite side of your room, where Miguel is.

Quietly, you pad up to his still form until you’re standing in front of him and hunch over, trying to decide how rude it would be to wake him up again when there's nothing he can do about your stupid insomnia anyway.

In the dim light, you spot something glinting at you. Looking closer, you notice that the thin chain looped around his neck has escaped his shirt to pool on the fabric of the sofa cushion under him. You gently drag the loose end of the necklace toward you, and find a smooth golden band threaded onto it.

Picking it up cautiously, you flip it in your hand and find that there's something engraved on the inside. It's hard to see in the darkness, but when you lean closer and squint your eyes, you can just make out what it says.

'MO'—undeniably the initials of one Miguel O'Hara.

Twisting the ring slightly, you find a tiny plus sign followed by your own initials, and your heart drops into the pit of your stomach.

Oh.

The memory of sitting across Miguel at Starbucks returns to you, when you had asked him who you were to him. You think of the avoidant gaze and how he couldn't look you in the eye.

‘Something like that,’ huh?

Guess the other you wasn't just his girlfriend after all, you think, chest drawn so tight it’s painful.

Holding the wedding band in the palm of your hand, you slide down to sit down on the floor with your back pressed against the chaise lounge.

Your heart aches for the man in front of you and everything he's lost. You really, really hope you're not going to end up as just another regret on his list.

~ Next Issue

Dedication & Credits: As always to my best friend @thirstworldproblemss I am half asleep and running on fumes. I'm wording things poorly but I just want you to know that I am very happy I have you. Thank you for being my friend and for the time we get to spend together. I have the most fun when I'm with you.

Also to @guruan who is my muse, my source of inspiration. This chapter is dedicated to her because have you seen this beautiful piece of artwork she did for EYEM?!

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderverse #oscar isaac #across the spiderverse #marvel #spiderverse fanfiction #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x you #marvel mcu

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1moreff-creator · 9 months ago

Text

Corrigendum - Literature Girl Insane Analysis

Updates After CH2 PT2

More than a year ago, the entire DRDT fandom was thrown on its head when the Literature Girl Insane David MV dropped. And with the help of DRDT Tumblr for mystery finding and interpretations, about a year ago I made “A Full Vivisection of the David MV,” a two and a half hour video going over everything I could. While I still think the video mostly holds up even after CH2 PT2, there’s quite a few things that require an update. Let’s go over them, shall we?

(Is this a correct use of the word "corrigendum"? I don't know, but it's close enough for me to use given the connection to the book theme we got going on :v)

As a warning, though, this post will more or less assume that you’ve watched Vivisection, as some sections might be complete gibberish without the context of my previous interpretations of this thing.

Spoilers up to CH2. CW: Suicide, murder, hanging, CH2 execution, gun violence, blood

I’ll go through the recontextualizations in order of appearance in the MV, though first:

Footnote 14 Solution, Tally 5 Correction

So these two things aren’t related to Part 2, but instead codes already in LGI. Since Vivisection came out, the footnote 14/Roman numeral I code got solved, and I’ve been informed that the solution for tally 5 I hinted at in the video was, while not wrong in the sense that you could arrive at the code using it, not the actually intended solution. Basically I said to pay attention to line breaks, when you’re actually supposed to ignore them, and that meant that one character had to be ignored when in reality the real solution works perfectly fine without ignoring it. Sorry, the line break thing was just commonly repeated advice given on Tumblr at the time and I don’t know why I never double checked how accurate it was :v

The proper solutions can be found in my Secrets Masterpost, so I won’t repeat them here. The Roman numeral I code, attached to Xander via crosswords, returned “I have always looked up to you,” which is perfectly in line with both the things David states in 2-12 and the conclusions drawn about how he feels towards Xander from the MV. As for tally 5, that will be addressed later.

Yoidore Shirazu Lyrics

Another thing that happened was the release of the Elliot MV, Yoidore Shirazu. While the MV itself is not particularly for our purposes, I'm bringing it up to double check a thing with the lyrics.

You might remember that a big chunk of Vivisection was informed by "Language Theory," the idea that some lyrics' translations were specifically changed to fit better with David. This was supported by footnote 5, "As the translation has been intentionally botched in many parts, it should not be considered accurate," as well as the fact that Coleena Wu was listed in the credits, meaning her translation was used as a base for the David MV even though there were many differences between the David MV's lyrics and her version.

Thus, when I saw that Yoidore Shirazu credited Magenetra for the English lyrics, I figured I'd check if it happened again. And yes, there are a few lines here and there where the Elliot version is slightly different from the original translation. While I won't get into all of them in this post, a particularly notable change is "my muddy, obstructed and broken vision of the future, it's not half bad" in the original changing to "my muddy, obstructed, broken future, it's not half bad" in the Elliot MV, for example.

What does this tell us about the David MV? Well, I would argue that if dev decided to change a few lyrics in an MV where word placement isn't as important as in LGI, presumably just to make them fit better with Elliot or because dev just prefers certain wording (I don't see any other reasons the translation would be different), then it's very possible that they also consciously changed a few LGI lines to fit better with David. Maybe. In other words, I believe this is an extra argument to the validity of Language Theory, though I could also see it as an argument against ("maybe dev just doesn't care about sticking so close to the translations they use") :v

Now let’s actually go from the start of the MV to the end, shall we?

Color Connection Theory: Orange

In Vivisection, I said (words more words less) that while in a vacuum orange would probably go to Ace, the context of some of the lines seemed to fit Xander better, with the argument that the trailer for the series assigns orange as the color of the first letter of Xander’s name in a hypothetical class trial. The main argument was that Orange “that guy” appeared next to Green “this guy” (Hu/Teruko, leaning Hu) and Black “you” (possibly Mai), and lumping Ace in with characters who seemed much more important than him at the time seemed… strange.

Since then, Ace has gained a notable amount of importance to this particular part of the story, given the whole blackened thing. As a result, I would argue his inclusion as Orange is now more likely than Xander’s. Take a look at the start of the first chorus, for example, and you’ll see that putting Xander as red (which would be redundant if he’s also orange) makes for a nice, neat reading in the context of this trial.

[Literature Girl Insane] Even if you cry, make noise, shout, go mad the world won’t change!

Arei: “Even if you cry about hurting Eden, you’ll still always be a horrible person.”

Hu: “Even if you make noise to make yourself useful, you’re still the same hopeless child who attempted suicide three times.”

Ace: “Even if you shout, you’ll always be a coward.”

Xander: “Even if you go mad, you’ll always be a good person at heart.”

“No matter what, you people (the world) won’t change.”

What a lovely worldview David has!

There’s also this instance, "let's play!":

[Literature Girl Insane] With anonymous hopes let's play!

Which makes sense given Ace is “playing the killing game” by… killing in the game. Foreshadowing or am I insane? These are not mutually exclusive.

Hand Holding

dev why /affectionate

So, yeah. Arei holds David’s hand the same way Ideal Country Woman does. At least we’ve got near 100% confirmation that the weird line of white pixels is not a glove or anything, but rather a bend of the wrist as expected.

Now we have to ask what Arei’s connection to this mess is. Thankfully, I can at least draw a connection between Arei and the surrounding context of the scene, so we’re not going in completely blind. As a reminder, here’s the interpretation I arrived at for the “tunnel scene” that directly precedes Miss Hand Holding’s appearance.

[Extract from Vivisection] David gives Xander the order to "escape the tunnel," so open himself up to love others. However, "but," loving David is a bad idea, because he's a monster who's better off dead. His opinion, right? So he asks himself, where should Xander escape? "Where to?" In other words, who should Xander like and be friends with?

The connection to Arei should be more or less clear, provided you replace Xander's name with her. There’s two ways to take it. Arei opened herself up to David, “escaped the tunnel on his direction” per say. And given what happened directly after, you could say it led to a “disastrous scene.” Alternatively, if David genuinely wanted to accept Arei’s proposal to be “less shitty together,” if he “escaped the tunnel in Arei’s direction,” that too could be considered a “disastrous scene” because Arei died. That one’s admittedly a pretty big if, butconsidering some of the stuff David says…

David [2-10]: Unless, of course, you were Arei. That girl wanted desperately to prove herself as a "friend" to Eden. And yet she completely lacked any experience with what "friends" were actually like. [...] What could she know about "friendship," after all? Someone like her, who had not once experienced kindness in her entire life up until now? [...] [Breaking down] It's... It's so... Ahaha. It's just so foolish. For someone to take advantage of Arei like that... It's absolutely unforgivable. All she wanted was to change. What a reprehensible person this killer is. I look forward to seeing their painful execution.

Yeah he might have cared.

So, okay, Arei can be connected to the surrounding context so this isn’t completely out of left field, but we still have the possibility of a further connection to the Mystery Girl. As you might recall, this girl is either Diana Chiem (based on certain similarities with David and because revealing Ms Naegi like this would be weird) or Ms Naegi (because Diana isn’t in the Cast List, while Naegi is). I don’t see any immediate connections to Naegi, so we’re left with Diana, who also has little connection.

Of course, the number one takeaway is that Arei reminds David of Diana (or Ms Naegi) in some way, so we can infer Mystery Girl might have supported David despite knowing about his manipulative nature, especially possible since she's positioned in the MV in a way where she's the "(so-called) ideal country." I'm about to ramble a whole lot more about other possibilities, but this is probably what we're meant to get from this.

If we’re allowing a small amount of unhingedness, another connection that could be drawn is between Arei’s family situation and David’s. Arei also had sisters, but they treated her horribly until Arei ruined their lives. Translated to Diana, this could mean that David treated her badly, that she did something to harm him, or both. If their relationship turned bad during Hope’s Peak time, it could explain why Footnote David, presumed to be David before losing his memories, claims she doesn’t exist, when Killing Game David speaks about her openly. Did he try to cut ties with her or something, and tries to pretend she doesn’t exist? Again, unhinged and probably not what the takeaway is meant to be, but we know less than zero about Diana, so it's not impossible.

Alternatively, though, it's worth noting that Mystery Girl and Arei tilt their heads in opposite directions, which could symbolize they're opposites in a way. Taken with the previous interpretations, this could mean either Mystery Girl supported David without knowing about his motive secret (opposite of interpretation 1), or that Arei's family situation is opposite Diana's, aka David had a good relationship with his sister (opposite of interpretation 2).

But speaking of insane, would you believe me if I told you that this visual similarity could, alternatively, be evidence for literally the most unhinged theory in the entire Vivisection? That is, the ridiculous deduction which is arrived at by analyzing the objects in the “suspicious gaps” attached to footnote 11, “I admit to lying. There is no one named OOOOO OOOOO. I am, and always have been, an only child," as well as the Catch-22 quote that comes directly after. Full explanation in Vivisection, but here’s the theory.

[Extract from Vivisection] So, first, I think the footnote is a double lie. David's lying about lying. He does actually have a sister but, for some reason, he's trying to deny it. He's pulling an Arturo: something happened with his sister, and he's trying to distance himself from it. That's where the snake with the blood and the safe come in, with the rope possibly implying a suicide. Remember the family history of depression? [...] So, it's possible Diana died. [...] It's also possible that whatever happened to Diana would have been hinted at in David's motive video. [...] Yeah, that's my explanation for the TV. But, why would this bad thing which happened to Diana be in David's motive video? That would imply David doesn't remember it. That's what the Snowden line could mean. [...]

Yeah remember that insane thing? Well, Arei died by hanging, so it’s possible Diana also died by hanging, aka suicide. This connection doesn’t make the theory any less unhinged, but it’s there.

I hate the things I love, and I love the things I hate

As a refresher, this screen is about Xander, indicated mainly by the references to electrocution literally framing the scene. Nothing’s actually changed here, mind you, I just wanted to point out that it’s interesting that so far, we’ve only seen David talk about Xander with love, and we haven’t really seen the whole “I hate” part yet. Curious to see how that will develop later.

suspicious gaps

Still zero clue, I’m just putting it here because it’s still killing me.

V. Right now, why do you go insane? [Ace's numeral]

We should’ve known, guys… Ace’s numeral is literally right next to Arei’s (IV), not just in song position, but numerically. Incidentally, that means both killers so far have been in multiples of five (Min with X, Ace with V), so, uh, Whit (XV), anything you wanna tell us about CH3?

(I don’t think he’ll be the CH3 killer I’m just being silly :p)

Anyways, the big update here is related to the background text, “a cat has 9 additional lives.” This was already pointed out by treescanfly, and that is that Thanatophobia, Ace’s execution, featured 9 different execution methods (scythe - illness - fire - falling - murder - drowning - lightning - firing squad (execution)). Looks like horseboy really was a catboy all along!

XIII. or [not to be?] [Teruko's numeral]

The interpretation of the quote itself, that it’s a reference to Teruko’s suicidal tendencies, hasn’t changed. It’s only gotten more explicit.

Teruko [2-16]: Killed? I doubt it. As if something so kind could happen to me.

Not much else here, though it seems Teruko might start rejecting the suffering associated with being the Omelas child given her talk with DefaultTV, so that’s fun.

Footnote 6, “[Prayer]”

So what I’m about to say is technically a connection that existed since LGI’s realease, but was just a bit too insane for me to even think about back then.

Basically, you know how Mai is referred to as a “God” in this video, because of her numeral and the arrow? Well… what if that’s connected to this footnote? And, I don’t know, Min is praying to Mai?

Again, unhinged even for my standards, but with the confirmation that XF-Ture Tech is in some form behind the killing game… anything that puts Min in a weirdly plot relevant position (such as inexplicably having a Mai connection beyond what we saw in Bonus Episode 1) should be at least written down for posterity, if nothing else.

That's my way of saying- Please write about Min, guys. I miss her :(

Footnote 12

“Majority rule” is known to be the fairest method of making decisions for a group. That's why murderers never complained when we voted for them to die.

In Vivisection, I primarily argued the meaning of this footnote through the lens that David may have genuinely believed he had driven Arei to suicide, and thus believed he was the blackened. This turned out to be horribly wrong, so we course correct.

Instead, this simply seems to be what David was hoping would happen when he pulled out the magical girl transformation, albeit stylized with an impossible 16 people vote. The screen that flashes after just seems to reflect what David thinks would actually happen if a blackened won, or just what will happen by the end of the killing game no matter what: “Everyone will be executed.” That’s based on this line:

David [2-12]: 15 lives. Some of them are very dear to you. And your own life as well. Is there anything at all that could be more important to you than those 16 human lives?

Where David talks about sacrificing the full 16 lives of the participants, seemingly without taking into account that the blackened wouldn’t actually die in his plan. Because of that, it’s inferred that David doesn’t actually think the blackened would survive even if they won the trial.

Other than that, the footnote seems to just be a direct reference to what Teruko says in the trial:

Teruko [2-15]: We determine who lives and who dies by a majority vote. In other words, the opinion of everyone who *isn't* you.

Which, uh... makes things easier, so I'm not gonna read into it much further :v

“What is the most important thing?” / Mistaken alphabet

Still no idea what these two things are about, that’s why I’m bringing them up :v

Original

[Extract from Vivisection] So, what I think is the best idea is that all the characters [referring to Color Theory] got the word. [...] I think it makes more sense to relate them to the meaning of "original style" under my interpretation, where "original style" means a change of heart.

The interpretation from Vivisection seems to hold strong, as MonoTV did actually have a “change of heart” of sorts, albeit brief. Hey we take the Ws where we can get them >:D

Two Eyed Xander

The theory discussed in Vivisection that David might hold memories from Hope’s Peak times was seemingly debunked by a tweet from the dev, even if the thread referenced in the link was later deleted. I did say in Vivisection that I didn’t believe the theory even if it was cool, so… we’re chilling.

Of course, though, we did get confirmation that David knew about Xander before Hope's Peak, so the appearance of Xander with two eyes was meaningful! Cool!

Correct/Incorrect (Tally 5)

This is going to discuss the unlisted video linked in the footnotes of Vivisection, which I am well aware most of you probably didn’t watch given the view count. In any case, the thing I said there, which I also said in my Mai post, was that tally 5 could imply David had been involved in the weird revolution against Hope’s Peak that Xander and Mai had going on. While this is still certainly possible, given what was said in 2-12, it seems more plausible that tally 5 actually references David taking on Xander’s dream during the killing game.

David [2-12]: I don't care how low I'll sink, or how despicable I'll have to become. I'll do anything to carry on Xander's ideals by ending this killing game, even if it means I have to dirty my hands.

Yeah, the dream of killing everyone, that one. I say this not only because we know David “threw away his humanity” for it, but also because the image itself shows David holding Xander’s jacket, which would imply this is being said after Xander’s death. Thus, during the killing game.

Numeral IX - Look, aside from that, give me the usual medicine [Levi's numeral]

Well, he sure needs medicine alright! Yeah that’s the best answer I currently have about what in the hell this numeral means, so we’re going with this.

That said, points to Vivisection me, because the “Levi is Jupiter protecting Earth from asteroids” interpretation ended up being pretty solid.

Clock Fork

You know, the theory that Eden was the one to rip out Xander’s eye based on the clock in LGI existed before I made Vivisection, I just… didn’t invlude it. The one unhinged theory I don’t mention ends up being true, huh? Well, there’s that. Not much else to say, if you're deep into DRDT lore you already know the implications of a bloody fork.

And… that’s about that! Although I had quite a few comments to make and things to add, actual corrections were few and far between, which I’m happy about! Mind you, there's probably a few Vivisection statements here and there I'm forgetting about, but still. Hope you enjoyed this little corrigendum, and if you made it this far, you deserve your own Jupiter-Levi to defend you in your time of need! See you later!

#drdt #danganronpa despair time #drdt spoilers #drdt theory #david chiem #arei nageishi #ace markey #i think those are the characters i talked about the most #lgi mv

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