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#hopefully she doesn’t get in over her head but seems to me like they’re both setting boundaries and respecting each others boundaries so…
shanastoryteller · 8 months
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Happy Pride! Could you do more of the fem mxy!wwx identity porn? I hope you have a great day 🌻
a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42
Jiang Yanli sees the Lan party approaching and cant help the spike of anxiety that shoots through her.
First is Lan Xichen and A-Yao, who greet Madame Jin and Jin Guangshan formally and respectfully, without a hint of resentment for what they've put them through, for allowing them to arrange this alliance only to yank the promised marriage out from under them.
She knows better than to think there isn't any, but their serene expressions give nothing away. Lan Xichen's amiable mask hides a warm, peaceable center. A-Yao's hides a bitterness and cleverness so great that to this day she thinks it a tragedy that A-Yao hadn't grown up among the Yu.
They make look similar on the surface, but Lan Xichen and A-Yao’s relationship is proof that opposites really do attract.
A-Yao says something that causes Madame Jin’s face to tighten. Then they’re stepping back and Lan Wangji is stepping forward, but he’s not the one she cares about.
Xuanyu stands by his side, back straight and eyes forward, seemingly comfortable and at ease with Lan Wangji in a way that few people manage. Her expression when she faces her father is strained, but she stands close enough to Lan Wangji that their sleeves threaten to tangle together, so she assumes that strain is all that to Jin Guangshan and not Xuanyu’s husband.
“I told you she’s be fine,” Zixuan murmurs.
She wishes they were somewhere less public where she could get away with elbowing him in the ribs or at least stepping on his foot.
“Yanli-jie!” Xuanyu is waving at her, bounding forward without a thought to propriety. Both Lan Wangji and A-Yao are exasperated while Lan Xichen just seems outright fond, which is even more a balm to her worry than Xuanyu’s hopefully good relationship with her husband. A sect leader’s affection is nothing to sniff at, and even if Lan Wangji has little use for his bride, he would not upset his brother by treating someone he’s fond of callously.
“Meimei,” she returns and watches Xuanyu’s grins stretch to almost painful levels as the young woman reaches out to grab her hands. Xuanyu had felt so cold to the touch before, but now her hands are warm, and with several new callouses. She looks stronger too, thicker around the waist and the flesh of her cheeks, and it’s a relief to see her strengthened in both body and spirit.
Her grin eases and she becomes subdued as she inclines her head to Zixuan. “Jin Zixuan.”
He returns it, eyeing her speculatively, but it’s not a surprise. Jiang Yanli’s not sure if the two of them have ever had a real conversation.
“I brought some extra guests,” Xuanyu says. “Sorry.”
She gestures behind her and Jiang Yanli follows her hand and then blinks rabidly, but the vision in front of her doesn’t change. Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen stand there, along with a blind girl that she doesn’t remember seeing before. “It’s not a problem, Meimei. You’ll have to tell me that story of how they came to join you.”
Lan Wangji raises an eyebrow, looking down at Xuanyu who pointedly ignores his gaze. That makes Jiang Yanli nervous, but it doesn’t seem to be tinged with any true animosity. She’s more than familiar what that looks like on Lan Wangji.
“It was uh – recent. So recent that I’m in need of a proper bath and a new set of robes, actually.” She leans in to whisper, loudly enough that they can all hear her just fine, “I switched out my over robe for something less damaged and bloodstained.”
Lan Wangji sighs deeply. Xuanyu rolls her eyes, which seems like a good sign.
“Oh dear,” Jiang Yanli says, affecting wide eyes and a gentle concern that’s only a little fake. For a moment, a smirk steals across Xuanyu’s face before she smooths it out again, which nearly distracts Jiang Yanli from her play here. Not even A-Yao had picked up on her act the first time she used to it. “That sounds so harrowing and awful. Please, let me escort you to my rooms – you can use my bath and I can help you with your hair. We are sisters, after all.”
“Of course, Yanli-jie,” she says, eyes bright with humor. It’s refreshing to do this with someone who’s in on the joke from the beginning and isn’t A-Cheng. “That’s so kind of you, how can I possibly refuse?”
Both of their husbands look put out as they walk away together, arm in arm. Maybe this will finally give Zixuan and Lan Wangji something to talk about.
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probably-writing-x · 11 months
Text
Distanced
Summary: can u write an imagine with reader and drew starkey being at the beginning of the dating stage (met through friends and even though they both really like each other they haven’t revealed their love face to face) so during a party reader saw drew talking with a few actress, influencers, LA girls and she gets jealous and insecure so she starts distancing herself to him thinking that she doesn’t deserve him and she’s too ugly for him but she doesn’t explain herself and drew thinks that he had done something bad and after weeks decide to have a discussion annnnd they both revealed their feelings.
Warnings: Discussions of body image issues, alcohol use, I think that might be everything?
Author’s Note: Sorry this is so long - I started writing and kept going. It’s been a busy few days so I haven’t been writing as much but hopefully I’ll be back to it now :)
———
The thing about being in the celebrity world was that, eventually, everyone was connected. Whether it was a friend of a friend who worked with another guy on a film ten years ago, or it was a neighbour’s neighbour - everyone eventually got to someone else. That’s how you’d met the majority of the people that you considered friends in the industry. You’d released your first album three years ago but it still felt like you were taking your first steps in being ‘famous’. Thankfully, you’d met some good people - Kelsea had become like a sister to you and she’d taken you under her wing instantly. Since she’d started dating Chase, too, she’d been introducing you to more and more people - notably, Drew. She knew that you two would hit it off when she introduced you at a party and you clicked almost instantly, spending the entire night talking in a booth away from the crowd. Since then, he texted you everyday, he’d become the guy you rang when you were walking home or in a taxi on your own, the one you texted to say a quick ‘home safe’. He sent you stupid videos he found online, and facetimed you to listen to him run his lines, or when he needed help with what to wear to an event. Drew was just… nice, you know?
“Okay, sorry, I’m back,” His face pops back into the frame of the facetime call as he sits back down on the couch and picks up his phone from where it was sat pointing up towards the ceiling, “My food arrived.”
“What did you order?” You ask, propping your phone up against the coffee machine on your counter so that you could open your own bag of takeout food.
“I went for chinese food,” He grins, pulling out the boxes of takeout.
“Me too,” You laugh, “But the good place was closed so I had to order from the kind of shitty one.”
“You hate the kind of shitty one, you’re going to eat the chicken and say that it’s a bit dry and that your rice doesn’t have enough flavor, and then you’re going to complain that your takeout night was ruined.”
You narrow your eyes at him through the screen, “That happened one time! How do you even remember that?”
Drew chuckles and sets his phone down so that he can eat, leaning it against the lamp beside his couch so that he’s still visible in the frame, “I remember things (Y/L/N).”
“Okay, which film did you choose?”
“Oh, I picked a terrible one, you’re going to love it. And I think if we try a few times we’ll be able to get the timing perfect this time.”
~~~
“Okay so what are we actually going to tonight?” You ask Kelsea, laying back against the cushions on her bed as she potters around the room, deciding on her outfit.
“It’s a party, I don’t know anything more than that,” She laughs, “It’s meant to be good though, it seems like everyone in LA is going.”
“I don’t like these things, they’re so stressful,” You grumble, pulling the hood of your hoodie up over your head.
“Well maybe if you started getting ready you’d feel more up for it a-“
She’s cut off by the sound of a key in the door, followed by two familiar voices laughing as they walk in. The pair round the corner and you’re met with the sight of Chase and Drew coming into the apartment.
“Hey honey,” Chase grins when he sees Kelsea, going over to kiss her quickly, wrapping an arm around her waist.
“Hey (Y/N),” Drew wiggles his brows, slipping off his shoes and flopping down onto the bed next to you, he looks at you and puckers his lips exaggeratively.
“Grow up,” You roll your eyes, turning around so you can rest your head against his chest sideways, your legs dangling off the side of the bed as he stretches down the length of the mattress.
“(Y/N) I need you to talk some sense into Drew here,” Chase encourages, “He doesn’t want to come tonight.”
“I mean, I’m not up for it yet either,” You shrug, “I need like a shot or two and then I’ll be more in the mood to party.”
“Shots, okay, we can do shots,” Chase nods, “How about you two can start getting ready, and we’ll make dinner, and we’ll get some drinks. Sound good?”
“I didn’t agree to make dinner,” Drew points out, “Frankly I can’t think of anything worse.”
You reach a hand back to poke at his ribs and he flinches back from you, locking an arm around your neck and shoulders to trap you against him. He uses his other arm to tickle at your sides until you’re writhing underneath his touch.
“Drew!” You squeal, fighting to get away from him, your legs flailing.
Chase and Kelsea look at each other with a knowing expression, like they were watching the start of a film they already knew the ending to - a sort of inevitability that it seemed impossible to avoid.
~~~
You spend the next hour or two getting ready with Kelsea, changing your outfit three times before settling on one - a black crop top with spaghetti straps and a pair of wide leg black pants, heels underneath that were practically hidden by the excess length of the trousers.
“You guys ready to go? The uber’s here!” Chase calls out, knocking a couple of times on the door of the bedroom before poking it open just an inch or two before opening it fully, “Alright, good to go?”
“Yeah, yeah, let’s go,” Kelsea nods, smoothing her hands over her dress.
When she goes over to him, he wraps an arm around her and tells her she looks beautiful, kissing her shoulder. You follow behind and see Drew waiting for you as the other two leave just ahead.
“Well don’t you scrub up well,” He grins, reaching out his elbow for you to link an arm with his, still taller than you even with your heels on.
“Not so bad yourself, Starkey,” You laugh, holding your hand around his bent arm to help you walk with him.
“Okay, so, how long do we have to stay at this thing tonight?” Drew asks, stepping forward and reaching out a hand for you to take as you’re about to descend the stairs.
“Come on, it’ll be fine, at least we know a few people that will be there,” You point out, “Can’t be that bad.”
“You’ll be regretting saying that later, I promise,” He shakes his head, waving his hand a little more in front of you, “Come on, hurry up.”
He’s wearing a dark green button up shirt and black carpenter jeans, baggy around his legs. It seems to darken the features of his face, defining the freckles around his nose and cheeks, lessening the normal brightness in his eyes. His hair is growing out now from him shaving it for Outer Banks and you’re sure it gives him an innocence beyond what anyone else saw. You loved it most when it was messy, a hundred directions on his head, a sort of carelessness to it.
“Are you coming or what?”
It’s Chase that calls up from the bottom of the stairwell. And you realise for all of the time you’d been staring at Drew, admiring him, he’d been staring at you too.
~~~
The party is already busy when you arrive and there’s people queuing up outside to try to get in. Drew links arms with you as you get out of the car, like he’s constantly scared you’re on the brink of falling whenever you’re in heels. It’s in a club, already littered with tens too many bodies, and music that pounds from the walls, chatter drowned out by the noise.
“Let’s go get us some drinks,” Drew says into your ear and he moves his hand from your arm to press on the small of your back, guiding you in front of him as if he would shield you from the growing crowd behind.
You slip through non-existent gaps in the crowd until you eventually break through to the bar, waiting in the queue with Drew behind you. His hand falls to your waist, his body towering over you from behind and his eyes seemingly on full alert for everything and everyone around you.
“A tequila sprite and a rum and coke please,” You call over the bar to the server who nods at you with a smile, taking two glasses to prepare the drinks.
Drew shifts into the space beside you and leans his forearms on the bar, “Are you trying to get me-“
“Hey!” It’s a voice from beside him that interjects, a girl.
She’s about your age, you think, with makeup that you’re certain you couldn’t match even with the best products. She must be a model, and her outfit is like something straight from a runway. You’re suddenly aware of how itchy your top feels around your chest, and how your trousers don’t seem to be sitting in the right place on your waist anymore. But you ignore it, turning back to the bartender as he pours in the rest of your drink.
“Have we met before?” She asks to Drew, her hand falling to his upper arm.
He looks at her with a frown, “No, no, I don’t think so. I guess I would remember if we did.”
“Well, yours is a face I definitely wouldn’t forget,” She smiles in return, “Who did you come with tonight?”
“Just a few friends,” He returns.
You pause with the drinks glasses in your hand, suddenly hyperaware of how the condensation seems to scratch with the cold against your palms. A few friends. He wasn’t wrong. You and him were just friends, right?
“Well, maybe if your friends don’t mind you could come and dance with me,” The girl smiles, her hand not yet moving from his arm.
“Yeah, well, maybe I’ll see you around.”
With that, she disappears and Drew turns back in your direction, raising his eyebrows at you.
“Oh, um, here,” You clear your throat, stretching out an arm to give him his drink.
He takes it from you and smiles, taking a sip, “Alright, should we go find the other two?”
You nod and follow behind him in the crowd, he stretches an open hand back as if offering for you to take it but you pause before doing so. It was still undecided in your mind if that was a good thing or a bad thing that he’d been so completely nonchalant. Like that had just happened and it didn’t mean anything. Did it not mean anything because he wasn’t trying to flirt back? Or did it not mean anything because he didn’t think you should care if he was flirting?
After a second too long without your hold, Drew turns back to look for you, eyes flicking between you and his empty hand as if reminding you that he needed to know you were there. You place your hand in his palm and let his fingers wrap around you, not making any move to hold his hand back, just yet.
You meet up with Kelsea and Chase and end up on the dancefloor. Your drink is finished by now and so is another and another, and at some point you’d all done two rounds of shots. Drew is dancing beside you, his arm bumping yours as he moves, trying to make you laugh with every exaggerated dance, or every effort to shout the lyrics of every song he recognised.
At some point, a group of girls are dancing beside you and one of them reaches out to tap Drew on the shoulder. He turns around one another of the girls reaches a hand out for him to take, spinning herself around and starting to dance with him. Chase nudges you and points in that direction as if you hadn’t seen it in the first place, watching as Drew gets engulfed by the group, dancing with them as they laugh at his moves. Kelsea glances in your direction and her brows drop as if concerned, as if worried for your reaction. You force yourself to smile at her and tear your eyes away from Drew, taking a long sip of your drink.
This was silly. You couldn’t keep thinking about this. But the more you thought about not thinking it, the more you thought about it. And you found yourself looking to the group of girls more and more often. They were all in different dresses, and you were sure you recognised their faces from the TikToks that could come up on your for you page of ‘get ready with me’ videos or ‘get dressed with me to go to…’ videos, another two of them you’ve seen at a fashion week before. They’re gorgeous. Their makeup still looks pristine even after hours of being in this hot club. And you’re suddenly aware of how yours is starting to feel more obvious on your face, how your foundation probably doesn’t look as good as it did when you left. How the curl of your lashes has probably dropped by now, your lipgloss non existent. You’re thinking of everything.
When you look back again, Drew’s leaning down to the height of one of the girls so that she can speak into his ear. He laughs at something she’s said and pulls away slightly, his eyes catching yours as his gaze flicks away from her. He smiles but you find yourself looking away before you can think to smile back, feeling slightly less comfortable amongst the party of unknown people.
~~~
You’d stayed at Kelsea’s that night, sleeping in her spare room, and you’re up before she is, a cup of coffee in hand as you’re sat on her balcony.
“Hey, honey,” Her voice cuts in as you’re halfway through your cup of coffee, “How long have you been up?”
“Not long, the pot’s still full if you want some,” You smile, tucking your feet underneath you on the chair.
“I’ll grab some in a minute,” Kelsea responds, sitting down on the other chair, “So, how are you doing after last night?”
You look at her and ponder giving a dismissive response but her face is too genuine to try and lie to, “I- I don’t know how to feel.”
“Okay, well I’m just going to start this by saying you’re allowed to feel upset, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I don’t know if I am though Kels, like me and Drew are just friends - why would I think that I have any place to feel any type of way about him and girls from clubs, you know?” You shake your head, taking a sip of your coffee to stop your bottom lip from trembling, “I just… me and him… I’ve never seen him with girls like that, so I didn’t know what to think.”
Kelsea nods, knowing to let you speak before she says her piece.
“I know we’re friends, and that’s fine. But I just saw those girls and I saw the way they were with him and they looked so… and they had this like confidence and they just…” You take in a shaky breath, “I’m not them. I’m not going to be them.”
“Oh honey!” Kelsea comes off from her chair and crouches in front of you, her hands on your knees, “(Y/N) you don’t need to be them. Drew doesn’t want you to be them. Do you know that? I see the way he is with you, the way he talks about you, that’s not the way you talk about someone if you’re just friends. Those girls, the club, last night, they were coming up to him, he wanted to be with you. I know he did.”
You want to believe her. But even the mention of his name forces the thoughts of last night back into your head, cycling through them like snapshot images, each one a little clearer and stinging just a little more.
“I’ll be okay,” You reach one of your hands down to squeeze Kelsea’s, “It was just one night. It’s okay.”
She furrows her brows and rubs her thumb over your knee, “Alright, I’m going to go and wake Chase up before he’s late for his press stuff.”
Kelsea disappears back inside and you sip down the rest of your coffee, drawing your legs up to your chest and trying to breathe out the tightness between your lungs, blinking away the blur of tears from your eyes.
~~~
It’s a day later when you realise you can only go so long avoiding Drew - perhaps less time than you’d originally thought that it would take. He had texted you a bunch yesterday, originally a good morning text, then turning into a couple of videos he thought were funny, ending the video string with one about when ‘the one person you speak to doesn’t reply’. By the night, he sent you one message saying that he was starting to get worried now that you hadn’t replied, and that he just wanted to check if you were okay. Today, he had called you in the morning and then followed up from his other text saying he was probably just being stupid but he wanted to make sure you were good. You reply with a simple;
Just been busy, got studio sessions coming up. Speak soon
You debate sending a heart at the end but delete it before pressing send. He reads it straight away and responds;
Fuck me I’m just glad you’re alive, felt weird going more than a day without speaking to you!! Hope your studio sessions go well, superstar <;3
You like the message and lock your phone, the same tightness settling on your chest as you’d had at the club, as you’d had yesterday morning. Your breath turns shaky again and you try to ignore it.
The next few days go relatively the same - Drew texts you in the morning, sends you something that reminds you of him or tells you to listen to a song that he’s found. You reply a few hours later with a short response or just react to the message, not wanting conversations to carry on like they normally do.
Another couple of days in, he calls you as you’re leaving the gym and you wait for it to go to voicemail, listening to it as soon as the notification comes through.
“Hey, superstar. I wasn’t sure if I’d get through to you, but I’m guessing you’re busy, um, just calling to say… well, I don’t know what I’m calling to say. Just that I miss you, I mean it’s only been a few days but… I don’t know. Feels weird not talking to you, so call me when you get the chance, let’s make plans or something. Alright, I’ll leave you to… well, I don’t know what you’re doing, which is weird, it feels like I always know what’s going on with you… um … whatever, call me back, or don’t if you don’t want to, I don’t know I-“
It cuts off after that and you’re just met with the monotone voice of your voicemail asking if you want to repeat the message. You listen to it once, twice again, finding comfort in the sound of his voice for those digital seconds.
Your finger hovers over his contact as you think of calling him back but you shift it to the text button instead.
hey! sorry i didn’t get to my phone in time - just been busy with the new album so the days are just going too fast. not sure when i’ll be free, i’m sorry
He reads it instantly and the elipsis bubble appears to say he is typing, disappearing and then reappearing a couple of times.
i told you not to forget me when you were famous (y/l/n). I miss you!!!!
You bite your bottom lip to stop yourself from crying at the words, reluctant to try to come up with any response that would feel fitting.
speak soon !!
~~~
It’s another week later when Kelsea invites you over for dinner, one of those sort of ‘no isn’t an option’ invites. You turn up with a bottle of wine and she wraps you in a bear hug when she sees you, a hand on your shoulder before she lets you come into the apartment.
“What’s going on?” You frown, looking at the slightly panicked expression on her face.
“Okay, don’t be mad,” She winces, “But Chase didn’t realise you were coming tonight and Drew’s here before they go out for dinner with the cast. He’s been asking about you.”
You shrug your shoulders, shake your head, “No, it’s okay, don’t worry. We’re friends, it’s fine.”
She furrows her brows a little, “Are you sure?”
“Of course!” You force a smile that you’re certain is believable enough and she must believe you, leading the way into the kitchen where there’s already a dinner cooking on the stove.
“Hey (Y/N)!” Chase gets up as you walk in, hugging you quickly.
You hug him back and, over his shoulder, spot the sight of Drew standing from his chair at the kitchen island.
“Hey stranger!” He raises his brows, “Where’ve you been?”
“Just a busy couple of weeks,” You nod, tightening your grip around the bottle of wine, “Been a bit M.I.A I guess.”
“Yeah, just a little,” He smiles softly, his eyes seeming to yearn for a little piece of you to come back to him, “Well it’s good to see you.”
You clear your throat, “You too.”
You try not to notice the way he watches you as you cross the kitchen, taking your jacket off and finding a bottle opener in the drawer to open the wine. You avoid eye contact when he watches your move to grab a glass from the shelf, pouring a portion of the liquid into the glass and swirling it around.
When you take a seat at the island, it’s the one furthest away from him. And when his eyes find yours then, it’s like they’re full of worry for his defeat - like this had just confirmed every thought that had been going through his head for the past week and a half. You, once again, find yourself trying to ignore the tightness in your chest, the way it restricts your breath as if he’s pulled it into him. Your eyes turn away from him as soon as you can force yourself to.
You’re just leaving Kelsea’s that night when you see the call come through. You’re almost a full bottle of wine in and it’s late as you’re descending the elevator to get to your Uber.
Your phone buzzes and your lowered inhibitions are the only reason you answer.
“Hello?”
“(Y/N),” His voice sounds slightly breathless on the other end of the phone, “You answered.”
“What’s happening Rafe?”
“Um…” He clears his throat and it crackles down the phone line, “Chase just said that Kelsea texted saying you were heading home. I figured you’d be getting a taxi.”
“I am,” You return, “I’m going down to it now.”
“I always call you when you’re getting a taxi.”
You swallow the lump in your throat, “No, you don’t need to-“
“I always do (Y/N). We’ve known each other for seven months, and I always call when you’re in the taxi, why wouldn’t I?”
“Have you been drinking, Drew?”
“Have you?”
Both of you are silent.
“Is that the only reason you answered?” He asks and you’re sure you can hear a shake in the words.
You don’t respond.
“What’s going on, (Y/N)?” There’s definitely a shake now, somewhere close to a tremble, “Why does it feel like I’m losing you?”
“You’re not losing me I’ve just been b-“
“Don’t say you’ve been busy,” He quips, “You’re always busy, but you always make time. This isn’t that, this is different.”
You’re silent.
“Answer me (Y/N),” He doesn’t raise his voice, but the tension in his words seems heightened, harsher.
“Are you free tomorrow?”
“I’m free now,” He responds, “I’ll be at yours in half an hour.”
It might be the remaining buzz of alcohol in your system, or the sight of your taxi driver turning into the road, your way home, to Drew, but you don’t think twice when you say;
“Okay.”
~~~
A painfully slow thirty minutes later, Drew buzzes your front door to come up to your flat. He lets himself in and you’re sat waiting as if counting the seconds of him ascending in the elevator. You’ve drank a bottle of water by now and the wait has seemed to sober you up quicker than usual. And then there’s a knock at your apartment door and you’re sure your heart stops as you open it.
He’s wearing a shirt that’s unbuttoned at the top, wrinkled around the bottom from where it had been tucked in but wasn’t anymore. He looks disheveled as if he’d rushed to get here before the minutes caught up with him, or perhaps before you changed your mind.
“Hi,”
“Hi,” He breathes out, “You look beautiful.”
You were wearing a baggy t-shirt that hung around your thighs, a pair of gym shorts underneath, your hair pulled back from your face in a bun with strands seeming to fall out on their own accord, no makeup on your face but your cheeks rosy from the wine in your system.
“Do you want to come in?”
He steps through your front door and you step past him to close it. Drew doesn’t make any effort to move further and neither do you. He’s just stood in your hallway looking at you and you’re stood with your back a few feet from the front door, somewhat feeling isolated now you knew he wasn’t leaving.
“What’s going on (Y/N)?” His shoulders drop as if he just needed to get the words off of his chest, a relief slipping over his features to finally say the words to your face.
“I-“ You take in a deep breath, “I just feel like things are weird between us.”
“They’re weird, yeah,” He scoffs, “They’re weird because you’ve been avoiding me.”
Drew laughs then and you find yourself letting out a little laugh too, the two of you gripping onto the pieces of normality that still remained.
“Did something happen at that party? Because I’ve been wracking my brain and that’s the last night I can remember where it felt like things were normal. And since then I’ve barely seen you. Did something happen? Did I do something? Did I say something?”
You shake your head and wrap your arms around yourself as if you’re cowering away from the idea of having to admit to anything.
“(Y/N)…”
“I hated it-“ You stop yourself, letting your thoughts gather, “We were at that party and I hated it. These girls were flocking to you and flirting with you and chatting to you and all I could think about was how much I hated it. Which is stupid because I have no reason to feel like that but I couldn’t help it and then I hated that I felt like that because I-“
“(Y/N), breathe,” Drew steps towards you, his hand reaching out and lacing with yours.
The contact seems to ground you, his eyes burning into your skin but somehow seeming to calm the raging fire of your nerves.
“I know I have no reason to be jealous, I know that, but I just,” You shake your head, “I was jealous.”
“You were jealous,” Drew returns, the corners of his mouth upturning with the slightest glimpse of brightness on his features.
“It’s stupid because I know we’re just friends and I know that I don’t want to lose that and-“
“You were jealous,” He’s really fighting back a smile now, but it seems to fight harder against him as his lips stretch into a grin.
You look up at him then, your eyes locking with his, you’re sure you forget how to breathe for just a second.
“Why didn’t you just tell me?” His brows furrow for a second but he doesn’t seem to lose the joy on his face.
“I just-“ You look down again, “I didn’t want things to be weird between us, or for you to lie and say that you felt the same way.”
Drew moves his free hand up and presses a thumb underneath your chin, his index finger bending around the front to push your chin upwards, guiding your eyes towards him, guiding you back to him. His eyes are sincere, flicking between either of yours.
“It wouldn’t be a lie.”
You open your mouth and close it again, words catching on your tongue as you’re sure your whole body is going to freeze in this exact spot. Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad thing - to stay in this moment.
“But maybe next time you’re feeling jealous, just tell me. Does that sound good to you?” He dips his head just slightly, his fingers not moving from around your chin.
You laugh lightly and nod your head, “That sounds good.”
He chuckles and moves his hand around to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing over the skin, “And those girls? They’re not you.”
You feel your cheeks heat under his touch, his gaze, his words, “Not me?”
Drew shakes his head, “I don’t think anyone could come close,” He hums, dropping his head closer to you until his lips are just an inch from you, breath hot over your features.
In just a second, his lips press to yours, softly as if savouring the feeling of the first time. His hand moves from yours to instead drop to your hip, guiding you backwards until your back is flush against the door. With the contact, he deepens his kiss against your lips, his fingers slipping back into your hair.
When he pulls away, you’re both a little breathless against each other.
“God I’ve waited so long to do that,” He mumbles, pressing his forehead against yours, a smile crawling onto his lips.
“Next time please don’t wait so long,” You laugh, your arms moving to link your hands behind his neck.
“I don’t plan on it,” Drew smirks, dipping his head once again to kiss you, more sure of himself than before.
And, then, you’re sure. You’d stay locked in this moment if you could.
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itsphoenix0724 · 3 months
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Meet Me On The Ice (Azriel x reader)~Chapter 2
Warnings: None!
Word Count: 1.3k
MMOTI masterlist
A/N: Thank you for all the love on the first chapter! I've been working on this series for a while, and I'm glad people are excited to read it! I've decided to make a tag list for this series because so many people asked for it last time. I've never done one before so I hope I do it right <3
DISCLAIMER: I am not a figure skater or a hockey player, so while I'm trying to be as accurate as possible, it's likely some things may not be correct and/or are bent a little to fit the plot!
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You find Azriel on the ice at five pm sharp, his hands tucked in the pockets of a Velaris Univeristy hoodie. His eyes flick over you, almost with disgust, as you approach with a box tucked under your arm. 
“We’re not going on the ice today. Even if we were you can’t wear those.” You gesture to the well-loved hockey skates on his feet, and mark how his eyes narrow. 
“What’s wrong with my skates?” He asks, immediately on the defense, crossing his arms. 
It makes him seem impossibly bigger.  
“Nothing Azriel, if you’re playing a hockey game, but we’re not playing a hockey game.” You shake the box in your hands once before handing it over to him. The pair of shiny black figure skates sit in the box and Azriel takes one skate out running his scarred hand gently over the blade with a musician’s grace. “You should break them in before we actually get on the ice.” 
“They’re heavier than I thought they would be,” Az tucks the skates gently back in the box and moves past you to get off the ice. He sits down on the bench, leaning down to undo his laces. “Where are we practicing then, if we’re not going on the ice?’ He looks up at you from under the dark fringe of his hair, and you’re struck with his beauty for a moment. 
“We’re going to the studio in the back.” You make a gesture with your head as he stands, crowding your space. You have to crane your neck to look up at him, and you can’t even see around the expanse of his shoulders. Leading back him to the studio you walk in tense silence. Your coach, a beloved old lady named Alis, waiting infront of the mirror examines Azriel like a piece of meat. 
“So, this is who you’re finishing the season with?” She looks him up and down with mild interest as you dip your chin in confirmation, setting your bag down to start warming up. Alis circles like a predator as Azriel watches with confused disinterest. “Nice build at least, looks strong if a little bulky for my taste,” she mutters. Azriel whips his head back at you in defense, but all you can do is breathe a sigh of relief. Getting Alis to agree to train someone other than Lucien was half the battle. “Alright, stretch, then I’ll see what I’m working with. Hopefully, we can piece together some semblance of a routine,” She shakes her head as you turn to Azriel. 
“Do you want me to help you stretch?” You question and Azriel’s brows raise high, a smirk across his lips for just a moment at an insinuation you didn’t imply. Your cheeks tinge with 
pink, and his eyes dip to your cheeks, satisfaction from rattling you dances in his eyes. “Not like that obviously,” You scoff, rolling your eyes and busying yourself with digging out your water bottle so you have an excuse to turn away from him. 
“I don’t think I need to stretch like this is a ballet class, I can stretch myself” He shakes his head and you roll your eyes. 
“Fine, suit yourself.” Let him dig his grave. You know he’s doing you a favor, but he doesn’t have to be so condescending about it. You fall into a spilt to stretch your legs and Azriel looks at you out of the corner of his eye. You finish your warm-up, and Az remains leaning against the wall, stealing glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking. He stretched his arms out a little and nothing else, so it’s his fault if he’s sore tomorrow. 
“Alright,” Alis claps her hands together once, and both your attention’s snap to her like a knee-jerk reaction. You guess being coached vigorously for years can do that to a person. “Let’s see if we can get something together. Young man, stand here please.” She gestures to a spot on the floor and then calls your name, telling you to stand infront of Azriel. 
You’ve never been so close to him before.
Your entire back pressed against his front, the sight in the mirror sends you a strange feeling in your stomach. His frame dwarfs you easily, the broad planes of his shoulders and the muscles of his arms strain against the compression shirt he had on for practice. 
You could climb him like a tree
The thought hits you so suddenly that you feel the heat flood your cheeks as you finally meet hazel eyes in the mirror. If he noticed you ogling him, he thankfully says nothing. 
You go over some transition moves which go shockingly okay, Az picks up on the rhythm surprisingly quickly body flowing like a river easily through the steps. You make a mental note to ask Rhys if Az plays an instrument. Alis looks impressed for a first practice, and you two were so concentrated you haven’t bitten each other’s heads off yet. 
Until you start to try a couple of lifts. 
Everything goes downhill from there. Az manages to get you in the air a couple of times, but it’s never stable. Either you’re too tense or his grip is all wrong, and you’ve hit the ground and Azriel’s shoulder too many times to count. You both are frustrated and then the harsh words start. 
“Can you just fucking relax already so we can get this over with? Aren’t you supposed to know what you’re doing?” he growls out after Alis calls for a water break. 
“Maybe if you could just get your stupid hands in the right position I could fucking relax,” You glower down at Azriel’s scarred hands and he shoves them in the pockets of his sweats angrily. You feel a wave of guilt instantly because that was possibly the worst thing you could say. 
“It’s not working because you don’t trust each other,” Alis mutters, rolling her eyes as she tries to figure out something on her cellphone. “I’m going to suggest maybe spending some time together outside of this. To build some trust between the two of you.” You and Azriel eye each other with equal distaste. “Think about it, we’re done here for the day.” You’re frustrated, you’re sweating, and you’ve hit your hip enough times you think it’s been permanently bruised. You pack up your bag slinging the duffel over your shoulder, he copies your actions putting his new skates to the bottom of his hockey bag. You leave the rink together in silence, breathing in the chill of the night's dark air, letting it calm the flames of your ever-growing temper. You want to go home, you want to bury yourself under mountains of pillows and ice cream and scream at the unfairness of the world. The last thing you need is a group of drunk hockey players rallying after a loss. 
And of fucking course they’re right next to your car. 
Azriel’s about to walk in the other direction to his car, but you in a blind panic grab his arm. 
“Walk me to my car.” You plead, eyes widening at the sound of a bottle smashing against the ground. “Please.” Azriel's eyes narrow in confusion before they flick over to the crowd of rowdy men. He nods once and you begin the trek across the parking lot with a sizeable distance between the two of you. They still stop and look at you, eyeing you like a piece of meat. Azriel notices, in a quiet observant way of his. He moves closer to you slinging one arm around your waist, it burns through your clothes like a brand. They wisely back off then with all of Az’s towering physique wrapped around you like a guard dog. He opens your door for you and shoves his phone in your hand, still eyeing the group like he’s about to pounce. 
“Put your number in my phone, it’ll be easier for the future.” He’s still looking at the guys out of the corner of his eyes as you type your number. “Drive home safely,” Az mutters. 
“You too,” you respond. You settle into your car, and Azriel waits patiently for you to back out and drive away before walking to his own car.
Taglist:
sidthedollface2, bionic-donut, lyinginameadow, feyretopia, natashachelsea, going-through-shit, mika-no-sekai-blog, hijabi-desi-bookworm, brandywineeeee
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lesserjoke · 15 days
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Book #47 of 2024:
The Emperor’s Soul by Brandon Sanderson
[Disclaimer: I am Facebook friends with this author.]
I’ve read most of author Brandon Sanderson’s published writing, and this Hugo Award-winning fantasy novella from 2012 remains my absolute favorite, a title I’ve returned to and reread on multiple occasions (both as a standalone feature and as part of the Arcanum Unbounded collection). His pet themes are all here: inventive magical systems explained cogently and brought to life with ingenious exploits of the underlying rules, aspirational models of effective leadership, twisty heists pulled off with expert precision, and more. There’s even mention of the tripartite split across the Physical, Cognitive, and Spiritual Realms, a theoretical framework that underpins and loosely connects the writer’s various Cosmere stories (though you don’t have to read any of the others first, or even realize that this one is set on the same world as his novel Elantris). All of that in a slim volume of only 167 pages in my paperback copy.
The distinctive Chinese- and Korean-inspired worldbuilding elements are fun too, but it’s the characters who really make this work shine. We start from the irresistible premise of a con artist given a reprieve from her imminent death penalty in order to assist her captors with a secret task, which turns out to involve healing the empire’s ruler from a head injury that’s left him catatonic. Privately she doesn’t think it can be done at all, let alone in the hundred days she’s been granted, but she gambles that playing along will hopefully give her enough time to plot an escape. As she outwardly complies and talks more with the grandfatherly man overseeing the assignment, however, she reluctantly starts to believe in the good that could come of their project if she could somehow manage to pull off a miracle. Simultaneously, he and the reader are learning more about the prisoner and her art, which is far deeper and more philosophically-minded than the simple process of forgery it initially seems.
In essence, Shai’s hand-carved stamps rewrite the history of the person or object that they mark, for instance convincing a shattered window that it’s instead been lovingly maintained or persuading manacle chains that they contain a flawed link that will break the next time they get struck. The blueprint must be plausibly near enough to an observer’s recognized reality for the change to take hold, so if she’s to produce one that will restore the fallen emperor, she needs to know all she can about him to essentially recreate his entire personality from scratch. It’s a sorcery that the imperial advisors consider to be the utmost heresy, though they’re desperate (and hypocritical) enough to employ her services regardless.
What unfolds from there is a deeply humane tale, about as cozy as the genre can get with a looming execution date hanging over the protagonist’s head. It asks profound questions about art and human intention, and it shows how honest individuals who passionately disagree can slowly find a way to see things from the other’s perspective. Perhaps most importantly, it’s a book that believes wholeheartedly in people’s ability to surpass their limits, rise to a challenge, and ultimately prove better than they ever were before — to become the version of themselves that’s needed to meet the present moment. I’m moved anew by its powerful ending, as I find that I am each time.
★★★★★
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milfandh0ney · 1 year
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I dunno if you’re currently taking requests but if you are, can I request a Melissa x teacher!reader where they sort of butt heads a lot of times but they both have a crush on each other and everyone knows (of course there’s already a bet going on) One day they’re arguing in the teacher’s lounge and the frustration turns into a make out session and everyone watching just passes around money to those that won the bet. I’m rewatching the Carmilla web series so that inspired this request. Thank you!
Shameless
Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x reader
Warnings: sexual themes
Notes: I’ve never seen Carmilla but hopefully I did this justice ☺️
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“Ugh,” you groan, checking the after-school tutoring schedule clipped to the front of the fridge in the break room. Apparently this week it’s your turn to help the kiddos with their math. You curse yourself for not checking it before making plans…but maybe you don’t actually have to cancel.
You sink back into your chair, mussing your hair up on the way. There’s an obvious plan here and you’re going to use it. With your pointer finger, you twirl your hair and sigh dramatically.
The move garners the exact attention you were looking for. “Aww babygirl, what has you so sad?” Ava inquires, laying a hand on your shoulder and squatting near your seat. A little flirt never hurt anyone and the principal always seems to enjoy it. The plan works perfectly.
Your bottom lip sticks out slightly in a pout. “I have plans on Wednesday but I forgot I’m on the schedule for tutoring.” This is the moment to really turn on the charm, so you give her your saddest puppy dog eyes.
Ava strokes your cheek with her thumb before standing to her full height and whipping out a pen. She crosses out your name on the schedule and replaces it with another. “There!” She smiles brightly, turning back around to face you. “All better, baby. Melissa will do it. Your face is too cute to waste on tutoring anyway,” the principal blows you a kiss and struts out of the room with a flourish.
Once she’s gone, you glance towards the woman in question and she’s already glaring at you. You stick your tongue out at her, not caring how childish you might appear. The redhead rolls her eyes. “Fuck you,” she huffs. It’s better her Wednesday night gone than yours, in your defense.
You smirk at her annoyance. “You wish, Schemmenti.” Melissa has always teased you and picked on you more often than anyone else, and you’re glad to finally have the opportunity to get her back. It just gives you that warm fuzzy feeling inside.
She snorts, leaning back in her chair and using an empty one to prop her feet up. “Oh please. I am a catch.” The redhead links her fingers together and rests her head on her palms, leaning back just a little too much causing her to start tipping.
You don’t stifle your laugh as she wobbles, trying to right her chair before she tips over. “Your ego never ceases to amaze me.” The glare she sends you from across the room doesn’t do anything to diminish your shit eating grin.
-
Janine practically skips into the break room, beaming too widely for how early in the morning it is. “What’s everyone doing tonight?” She asks, flinging the refrigerator door open and tossing in what looks too much like a container full of cake into it. Hopefully that isn’t meant to be her lunch.
Maybe her extra chipperness is related to Gregory’s pleased smile. “Oh I have a date,” you say casually, checking to see if either of them reacts. The tips of Gregory’s ears go dark with a blush and Janine smiles at the ground when she tucks a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. Knew it.
Your temporary smugness is quickly cut off with a snort from the other side of the room. “Yeah with who? Hard to believe someone would willingly go out with you,” Melissa flawlessly baits you into an argument while she slurps on her morning coffee.
A shooting pain radiates from your jaw because you’re clenching it so hard. “You sound a little jealous, Schemmenti.” She knows exactly how to push your buttons but sometimes Melissa can forget it’s mutual.
The redhead tosses her empty coffee cup in the trash can without looking. “Whatever,” she grits out, storming off to her classroom. A satisfied smile spreads on your face. One point for you, zero for Melissa.
You remain astoundingly proud of yourself until Melissa pops her head into your classroom towards the end of the day when you know her kids are in music class. “Here to admit defeat?” You smirk as you lift your head from your grading.
She leans against the door frame while crossing her arms, her own smug smile on her face. You flatter slightly at her confidence, wondering what you missed to make her look like that. “No,” she shrugs, her smirk only growing. “I just came by to let you know I told Jacob you were dying to be the guest on his podcast and that you’re an expert on whatever topic he chose for tonight,” she raises her eyebrows at you in challenge. “I told him I’d do the honor of telling you he canceled his other guest so you can be there.”
Your pen clatters to your desk as you drop it to rub at your face tiredly. “Sometimes the urge to punch you is just..unbelievably strong,” you groan as you slump into your chair and turn towards the door. Point for Melissa.
The taps on your phone screen might be a little too harsh as you type out a cancellation message to your date, but you’re not excited to find out what topic you’ll be forced to talk about for a few hours.
Melissa looks all too satisfied as she watches. “And the other times..?” She asks curiously.
Huffing, you stand and walk towards the door. “Less strong, but definitely still there,” you give her a pointed look and close the door with her on the outside. You’ve had enough of her today and you need some alone time before you have to go on the podcast.
-
The day exhausted you and there’s nothing more you want than to be at home in your sweatpants, eating pad thai from your favorite takeout place. It seems though, that the universe has other plans for you. As you round your car to the driver’s side, you notice that it isn’t necessarily…level to the ground. Groaning, you bend over to see one of your tires is flat.
Standing back up, you scour the parking lot for any other cars. There’s only one left—a sleek black pickup truck. Of course, just your luck to get a flat tire when the only other person around is Melissa Schemmenti.
With no other choice, you trudge back into the school and down the hallway towards Melissa’s classroom. Outside of the door, you take a second to check your hair and makeup. You’ll have to muster up all the charm you can for this to work in your favor.
A deep breath and a smile plastered on your face, you enter the room. If you put a little extra sway into your hips when you saunter in, it’s just for the flirtatious effects. Melissa watches you enter with a brow raised behind her glasses. You don’t let your smile falter as you sit on the edge of her desk, your leg pressing against her thigh. “Heyyyyy Mel,” you blink innocently and twirl your hair around your finger. It’s your signature move and it works on everyone, even Ava, so hopefully Melissa isn’t any different.
She sighs and slides her glasses up to rest on her head. “Dear god, not this again.” You pout, trying to come up with an alternate plan. Of course Melissa would be even more difficult than Ava.
You smile at her bashfully, hoping the less direct approach would work better. “You’re so smart, did you know that?” Batting your eyelashes and biting your lip at her better not fail you.
She eyes you warily. “I’m not an idiot. that’s not gonna work on me.” Melissa crosses her arms and leans back in her chair, contemplating you.
There’s one last trick you can use on her. You widen your eyes into the best puppy dog look you've ever done, crossing your fingers behind your back. “What do you want?” She squints her eyes at you suspiciously, glancing you over for any sign of a threat.
You smile in relief. “I need a ride home. My car has a flat,” you gesture with your thumb in the direction of the parking lot. She was going to give in and you knew it.
She relents, packing her bag and throwing her leather jacket back on. “Fine. Even though you hate me,” she grumbles, digging into her bag for her keys.
This time your pout is real. “I don’t really hate you,” you stress. It’s only a little bit. It’s hard to hate someone that makes it so easy to poke fun at them.
Melissa snorts in disbelief. “Really? Name one thing you like about me.” Her eyebrows raise in challenge and she waits for what she thinks will be a bullshit response.
Without hesitation, you dive headfirst into reasons. Only so you can prove her wrong, of course. “Well, you’re resourceful, you never back down from a challenge, you’re funny, your hair is the prettiest shade of red—,”
“Alright enough buttering me up,” Melissa cuts you off and heads to the door. “Let’s go, I’ve got things to do.” She flicks her fingers in a come hither motion and you grin, jumping up to follow her. You never fail.
She inspects your tire when you get to the parking lot. “How are you getting here in the morning?” She asks from her position squatting near your car.
You blink. “I-uh…I hadn’t thought that far?” Damn. An Uber to school would be incredibly expensive in the morning. You briefly wonder whether Janine would be willing to swing by and pick you up before you remember she’s been coming in with Gregory.
Melissa shakes her head and dusts her hands off while standing back up. “Do you have a spare?” She laughs under her breath at your look of confusion and reaches inside the driver’s side door to pop the trunk. Apparently you do have one, because she pulls out a tire and leans it up against your car. “I’ll be right back,” she calls over her shoulder, walking away.
A minute later, she pulls her truck up next to your car and cuts the engine, hopping out. Melissa pulls a toolkit from the backseat and shrugs her jacket off. Her arms are a lot more toned than you recall, muscles taut when she hauls the supplies back to your car.
She talks you through the process of putting on a spare while she works. Not once does she ever use a condescending tone, talking down to you like you should know how to change your own tire. You hate that her babbling is kinda cute, but you hate it more when she takes her shirt off to leave her in only a tanktop. It’s more skin than you ever thought you’d get to see and it isn’t a terrible view if you’re being honest with yourself. She wipes the sweat that formed on her forehead and stands back up.
“Maybe you’re not so bad,” you shrug, hoping she takes your non-thanks as the gratitude you’re otherwise unwilling to express to her.
Melissa wipes the grease from her fingers on her discarded shirt and laughs. “Not so bad? Please. I’m basically Mother Theresa for this.” She lets her hair down from the bun she had it in and reworks it into a ponytail. The move shouldn’t be that attractive, but your mouth goes dry.
Shaking yourself from your thoughts, you remind yourself who you’re talking to. “Right, I forgot about your enormous ego—,”
“—like I'm resourceful, I never back down from a challenge, I’m funny, and my hair is the most gorgeous shade of red you’ve ever seen.” The shit eating grin on her face while she parrots your words from earlier back at you annoys you more than it ever has.
Leave it to Melissa to go from hot to insufferable in less than thirty seconds. “Unbelievable,” you mutter under your breath as her grin grows wider than you thought possible.
She steps in front of you, leaving you backed up against your car with nowhere else to go. “You love it though,” she insists, smirking down at you.
Her face has never been this close to yours before. You can make out all the specks of darker green in her eyes from this distance. They sparkle as she leans her face in closer, leaving barely any room between you two. Your breath catches and didn’t know this is something you wanted until now.
Without thinking, you tilt your head up in effort to connect your lips. Right at the last second, Melissa pulls back out of your reach. You follow her for a few inches before realizing what has happened.
Her jaw drops. “You were actually gonna do it!” You blush hard at the accusation, internally cursing yourself for falling for it.
“Shut up,” is your flustered response.
She eyes you up and down, taking in your red cheeks and nervous eyes. “That was—,”
“That never happened.” You glare at her. The worst case scenario is Melissa broadcasting your almost-kiss to everyone at lunch the next day.
She continues without listening. “I don’t think this ego boost is ever going to fade.”
Groaning, you pinch the bridge of your nose, wondering how the hell you ever got in this mess. You don’t like Melissa. She was just being nice to you for once and it messed with your head a bit. Yeah, that’s it.
“Follow me,” Melissa interrupts your thoughts. “My cousin Vinny has a shop just a few minutes down the road. He’ll hook you up with new tires.” She rounds your car to open her truck door.
Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “But I only need the one!” You shout across the parking lot.
She turns before shutting her car door. “They’re practically bald. If it rains too hard you’ll be spinning out. You need new ones.” Melissa doesn’t wait for you to object, starting up her truck and eyeing you until you follow her all the way to the shop.
She stays while Vinny works on your car, who drops everything to help a friend of his cousin. They bicker like brother and sister the whole time, but you sit there and take it all in. Melissa seems softer around her family somehow. There’s a pizza ordered and the three of you share it, giggling about the delivery boy’s odd haircut.
When your new tires are finally on, Melissa tosses you your keys and walks to her own truck. You shout back after her to ask how much you owe, she turns around and shouts back, “don’t worry about it!”
Vinny watches the exchange with a soft smile. “She likes that bakery around the corner,” he tells you with a wink. He disappears back into the shop. Shaking your head, you drive your newly safe car back home in silence, taking in everything that happened that afternoon.
-
The next morning, you walk into the break room and drop a pink box on the table in front of Melissa. Donuts are a better gesture of gratitude than a muttered “thanks” anyway.
She eyes them suspiciously. “They’re not going to attack you,” you roll your eyes at her. Can she make it easier on you for once? You’re being nice.
Her hand reaches into the box and takes out one of the fritters. After one bite, she hums. “You know, a real thank you would have come from Bianchi’s.”
The nerve of that woman. “If you had any taste, you would know Tony’s is even better than Bianchi’s.” You take a donut from the box and take a bite. If she isn’t going to appreciate them, you will.
Melissa grabs the rest of the fried delicacy from your hand. “That’s mine, thank you very much.” You’re momentarily stunned as she bites your donut.
You scoff, lunging for the box. She’s too quick, pulling it out of your reach and causing you to fall in her lap. “If you wanted to sit in my lap, all you had to do was ask. No need to resort to such dramatics,” she snickers.
Her smirk enrages you. “You know damn well—,” your words are cut off by her lips insistently pressing to yours. She tastes sweet like icing and her hands are warm where they hold onto you. Melissa doesn’t wait long to trace your lips with her tongue, wanting to deepen the kiss. Without any hesitation, you give in and let her explore your mouth.
Someone groans from across the room. “God, can you both get a room already? I'm trying to concentrate here,” a voice that’s distinctly Gregory’s says.
Melissa stands while lifting you with her and you think she’s going to try to carry you to her classroom, but she unceremoniously drops you back into her chair. With one last short and passionate kiss, she stands to her full height and waves her goodbye.
She leaves you flustered and breathless, wanting more. She only gets a five second headstart as you shoot to your feet and follow her down the hallway. As soon as you’re out of the room, Jacob pulls a wad of cash out of his pocket and hands it to Barbara.
You find the redhead waiting for you outside of your classroom, grinning wider than the Cheshire Cat. “You’re shameless, you know that?” With a hand to her chest, you push her against the wall and kiss her. You might have to get a little creative with your payback.
x
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fayes-fics · 2 years
Text
Lessons Taught
Lessons Series Masterpost PREV | NEXT
Pairings: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader (threesome)
Summary: Anthony and Benedict team up to teach some lessons
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Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, threesome, d/s relationships, nipple and clitoral restraint, spanking, impact play, face-sitting, overstimulation, light bondage, vaginal sex, slight voyeurism, slight exhibitionism, masturbation, mention of public sex, no incest.
Word Count: 6.7 k (whoops)
Authors Note: My darling @iboopedyournose has waited patiently for MONTHS while I wrangled this, the third instalment of Lessons. I’m sorry it’s taken so long. I really don’t like it, I think because I have stared at it for too long, but I hope you do <3 . Thanks as ever to my patient and lovely beta @makaylan :) Also please note, Regency era hairpins are not like Bobby pins, just an fyi for this fic lol.
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“Are you seeing this, brother?” Anthony asks discreetly, tipping his head over his shoulder in your direction.
Benedict hums in the affirmative.
“Well, what are you going to do about it?” Anthony challenges.
“Me?” Benedict frowns in surprise, “I thought she was your girl?
“She is. But you said you wanted to be more involved in teaching?”
“Well, yes…”
“Then I think you better be the one to tell her this sort of thing isn’t acceptable to us,” Anthony says pointedly, raising an eyebrow.
Benedict nods, comprehending, “Right, you are, brother.”
“And Benedict…”
“Yes”
“Happy birthday” 
___
All you can think to yourself is this plan had better work. 
It’s been a month since your last encounter with both Bridgerton brothers, and, well, to say you are looking for an encore is an understatement. They’ve both been out here in their country retreat while you’ve been stuck in London. Now you’re here at the fabulous Aubrey Hall for the annual Hearts & Flowers ball, and you’ve come prepared. Or, more precisely, underprepared—-in that, you wear no underwear, chemise or stockings—just your thin dress and stays. An extra frisson of excitement for you and hopefully them too, if they’re amenable.
You're not sure the other part of your plan is working. You’re trying to get their attention. So you’re being risqué with your behaviour. Flirty, laughing slightly too loud at the jokes of men you couldn't care less for, filling your dance card and drinking perhaps a touch too much champagne. Hoping to make them just a little jealous and realise what they are missing out on. Hoping maybe they’ll teach you a lesson not to do this sort of thing in future. God, you really hope they do that. Your mind reels with possibilities of just how you would like them to tell you off and discipline you for such behaviour. You crave it.
However, they seem to have left the room. Disappointed, you take your leave from the main ballroom, heading to reapply your rouge when a hand suddenly grabs your arm and drags you into a hidden alcove in the hallway. Your back is pulled tight against a warm solid mass. 
“What do you think you are playing at?” A familiar voice snarls in your ear from behind.
Benedict.
Oh yes, please.
“I’m not doing anything… Sir,” you answer, pouting to stop the huge grin you feel tugging at your lips.
“It doesn’t look like nothing to me; it looks a lot like you are behaving like a wanton little hussy. Is that what you are?” His voice is a sharp hiss.
“No, sir,” you respond, pressing back against him, already feeling breathy from this encounter.
“Are you sure?” He questions, “if I find your nipples are peaked, I know you’re lying to me,” he argues, sliding a hand into your dress.
Of course, they are—they pebbled the instant he touched you.
“Well, what do you know,” he purrs dangerously as he lightly runs a finger over it, “a liar and a hussy.”
You whimper at his expert touch but make a performance of resisting his hold a little bit, squirming, playing up as if this isn’t exactly where you want to be right now. Your thighs sliding easily against each other, already slick.
“Do you know what happens to little hussies who lie to us?” He questions, banding an arm around your waist to quell your wriggling. Oh, the word us is music to your ears. 
“No, sir.”
“They get taught a lesson,” he slides his hand out of your dress, moving to hold your wrists against your side.
“I don’t need to be taught anything,” you challenge over your shoulder with a brattish tone.
“Like hell you don’t,” another voice cuts in, rounding the corner to stand in front of you. 
Anthony.
Oh, hell yes.
“But I’m a good girl, my lord,” you reply, looking at the new arrival with a challenging smirk.
He tilts his head and gives you a disbelieving look. “You are being the exact opposite tonight. Flirting, dancing with every man in that room like a hussy when you know full well who you belong to,” he asserts, grabbing your jaw and crowding into you so you are pinned firmly between their bodies. You feel the heat of Benedict’s cock nestling between your bum cheeks.
“Good girls get to go back to the party; bad girls get taken elsewhere to learn how to behave.” He continues pressing his pelvis against your lower belly, so you feel the outline of his cock now too. “So, which are you?” His thumb hooks into the corner of your lips and pull down, opening your mouth slightly.
You stay silent and peek out your tongue to lick across the top of his thumb.
“Silence suggests the latter,” Benedict opines from behind you, still holding your wrists firmly locked against your sides.
“Hmmm, I tend to concur,” Anthony hums, watching your tongue lathe against his thumb. “She looks like she needs to be taught a lesson.”
“I know just the perfect place,” Benedict offers.
“Lead on, brother,” Anthony responds.
The moment you are out in public view, their hold changes. It’s a respectful loose arm link from both as if they are helping you to navigate the party. Your gloved hands rest daintily in the crook of their elbows as they guide you up a staircase and along a long corridor. 
As the sound of the party fades further away with each step, their hold changes to a firmer grasp, and suddenly you are spun around and sandwiched between them, Benedict in front of you, walking you backwards against Anthony, bumping into a door.
“Hello, my girl, did you miss us?” Anthony purrs into your ear.
“So much,” you whisper back.
“We missed you too,” Benedict replies, reaching past you both to open the door.
All three of you almost tumble through the doorway, and Anthony kicks it shut as they both back you against the wall, Anthony on your right, Benedict on your left. From a glance, you appear to be some kind of art studio.
“It’s Benedict’s birthday tomorrow,” Anthony murmurs, “and getting to fuck you is my present to him. What colour do you think of that, my girl?”
“Green,” you answer, as they each remove a glove from your arm.
“Do you want me to fuck you too?” Anthony asks as Benedict busies himself kissing down your neck. 
“Yes, please, my lord” you feel Anthony’s hand snake around your back and pull open the buttons on your dress as you kick off your slipper shoes.
You can’t wait to have both of them. 
“Hmmm, thought so, you greedy little thing,” Anthony clucks as you close your eyes to the pleasure of Benedict’s lips.
Anthony pulls your gown off one shoulder and attacks the skin there; Benedict does the same on the other side. These brothers are team-working now—they obviously have something planned together. 
With a tug of both their hands, your dress falls. And they both reel back in surprise.
You are entirely naked save for the smallest stays you could find. They don’t even cover your nipples; they just provide the uplift you need for the neckline of your dress. You breathe heavily as they stare at you, eyes so hungry.
“How dare you attend a ball in my house, so scantily clad,” Anthony growls. 
“How dare you flirt with other men with your cunt exposed,” Benedict adds. “You need to be taught a lesson about how to dress as well as behave.”
“Go right ahead, brother,” Anthony cedes, enthralled he gets to watch you be disciplined.
Benedict advances on you. “A good girl keeps her nipples inside her underwear,” he opines, “otherwise look what could happen.” He suddenly pinches both nipples and pulls them upright roughly, so you are forced onto your tiptoes. “Any stranger could grab them and touch you just like this.”
Gasping at the sensation, you look over at Anthony, now casually leaning against a column, arms crossed, watching you being taught your lesson. “You won’t find any sympathy here, girl. He’s right.”
“Sorry, sir,” you say through clenched teeth, looking back at Benedict, “I won’t let it happen again, sir.”
“See that you don’t,” he demands, releasing his hold so you sag back against the wall. Your nipples ache from his rough treatment as he walks away and picks up a paintbrush from a nearby table.
“A good girl wears a chemise, so all of her skin is not exposed,” he tutors, as you feel the bristles of the paintbrush feather against your ribcage, swirling patterns over your ribs and belly, your nerve endings fluttering and goosebumps erupting in its wake. A laugh bubbles up in your throat. “Stay silent while my brush is on you. If you make a sound, there will be consequences,” he warns.
The brush runs teasingly up your side, and you writhe and bite your lip, fighting the urge to giggle—it’s where you are most ticklish. You manage to hold it together until he does the same on the other side, snagging against a weak spot, and you can’t stop the little burst of laughter. You instantly tuck your lips under your teeth and bite down, knowing you have broken his rule.
“Can’t even obey a simple instruction, can you?” he sighs, his eyes glittering with a heated menace. “I forbade you from making a sound, yet here we are.”
“I’m very sorry, sir,” you rush out. “It tickles.”
“Hmmm,” he runs an appeasing eye over your hair, swept into an updo. “What do we have here?” his voice silken as he runs a hand up the nape of your neck and pulls out a hairpin, then another two.
“Should I take my hair down, sir?” You query, confused by his apparent change of direction, one eye on the paintbrush now snagged between his knuckles.
“No need,” he replies. “I have what I need right here.” 
You have no warning as he drops his head and sucks on your left nipple, pulling it between his teeth. You cry out at the sudden, fierce sensation. Before you have your bearings, he backs off, and with a dangerous smirk, he slides one of your hairpins down over the damp pebbled peak he just created. It pinches and burns, the ache a direct line down to your clit. You hiss at the feeling as he does the same to your right nipple, diving in with teeth and suction, trapping it between the metal prongs. 
“Hmm, maybe this will teach you…,” he flicks at one prong, “to follow…”, then the other, “my orders….”
With each flick, you gasp, the snag against your skin just the right side of painful. 
“And maybe now you’ll remember to wear your chemise,” he surmises, admiring his handiwork.
“Yes, sir, I will,” you demure, adjusting to this new continual sting.
“Don’t her nipples look so beautiful like this, brother?” Benedict opines over his shoulder, “I’ve half a mind to leave them like this all night.”
“Oh, you definitely should,” Anthony agrees from a few paces away.
Then the paintbrush is back on your skin. Lower this time, sinking beneath your belly button. You know better than to make a sound now, biting your lips and fighting the tremble from the ticklish sensation, heightened all the more by your aching nipples.
“A good girl wears undergarments in public,” he lectures, the brush now smearing down the furrow where your leg meets your body. Your breathing speeds up as he flicks the lightest of touches against your clit hood with the bristles. It’s not enough and too much at once. “Otherwise, any man could touch you here,” the brush teasing as he strokes agonisingly light over your clit.
Cresting a moan, you arch your back, desperate for friction. 
“Please, sir,” you breathe, trying to appeal to his good nature, to touch you properly and give you what you crave. 
You look over at Anthony, who is watching you with hooded eyes, palming his obvious erection in his trousers. The fact that he is so turned on watching you get disciplined makes you mewl, your trapped nipples burn, and your cunt clenches around nothing.
Benedict drops to his knees before you hook your left leg over his shoulder and then buries his face between your legs, sucking your clit so firmly that you see stars.
“Oh god, yes, sir,” you call out, “that feels so good. Thank you, thank you.”
You feel him laugh almost menacingly against your heated flesh as he teases your bud outwards with his pursed lips. Then you sense it, a squeezing pressure as he slips the final hairpin he stole right over your distended clit—it throbs instantly.
“Oh, that’s just perfect,” he preens, “look at your poor little pearl all swollen and trapped. Gosh, if we so much as….” he spears the lightest of touches with the tip of his tongue and makes you squeal. ”Maybe now you’ll remember to wear undergarments in public,“ he counsels, dropping your leg to the floor and standing back up, nodding to Anthony.
“Yes, sir,” you stutter, fighting the strong urge to whine as your clit starts to pulse with every heartbeat.
Anthony steps forward. “Well, now you have learned how you should dress; perhaps now you need to learn how to behave.” 
His arms wrap around your waist, and he walks you into the room. With every step, the pin over your clit snags against your flesh, and you moan at the sensation.
“Oh, my poor girl, all pinned and aching,” he whispers in your ear as you reach an oversized velvet chaise longue, obviously placed in the centre of the room for live art modelling. He walks you around to the tall end. “Hold on here,” he instructs, encouraging your feet apart. 
You obey, fingers sinking into the plush velvet at hip height as he stands behind you, smearing a hand roughly down the length of your back until it rests warm and foreboding on your bum cheek. 
“What do you think you were doing out there tonight? With all those men, hmm?” His voice is pitched low and with a hint of menace.
“Nothing, my lord,” you answer, trying your best to hide your smirk.
“She is lying to you, brother,” Benedict warns from a few feet away, his turn to watch now, “the little hussy has a smile on her face.”
“Is that right?” Anthony clicks his tongue disapprovingly, grabbing your jaw and moving your head to the side a little. “Then maybe this little hussy needs to learn how to behave.” 
Benedict barks a laugh and rolls up his sleeves at that.
“Does a proper lady flirt with strange men?” Anthony interrogates, rubbing his hand over the swell of your bottom.
“No, my lord,” you respond, breathless with anticipation.
“Hmm, correct. And does a proper lady fill her dance card with all sorts of cads and bounders without a care for her reputation?” his fingers kneading the flesh of your bum.
“No, my lord.”
“Then you are not a proper lady, and you need to be taught to be one,” he snarls. That’s all the warning you get before his hand lifts and then descends roughly onto your cheek.
“Owww,” you wail. That was a harsh first blow; your trapped nipples and clit thrum in time with the spank of his hand.
“No! You don’t say oww, you thank me for teaching you a lesson in appropriate conduct,” he lectures. When you don’t respond, he crowds against you and grabs around your throat, “I'm waiting….”
“Thank you, my lord,” you grit out.
He pulls your head back a little further, and his lips land on yours. His kiss is possessive and bruising, as if he is branding you as his. Plundering your mouth, the hand curling strong around your throat, you feel the vibration of your groan against his palm. 
As he pulls away and you breathe heavily, he spanks the same spot again, his grip lingering and grabbing your flesh. “I need to hear it again, my girl.”
“Thank you, my lord,” you gasp; the hand at your throat is not restricting your breath but a constant pressure that reminds you who is in charge.
He spanks your other cheek open-handed, his fingers splaying out wide. “Again”, he orders.
“Thank you, my lord.” It's a breathy plea against his lips as he holds your head back, staring into your eyes.
He releases his hold from around your throat and then uses both hands to spank your cheeks, the sound ringing out around the room with your panting. The burn makes you writhe. The ache throbbing in your nipples and clit.
“Do you think you’ll remember your lesson?” Anthony demands, his breath hot on your cheek.
“Yes, my lord,” you stutter.
“Hmm, it's funny, but I don't believe you. I don’t know that my hands are enough for this lesson,” Anthony wonders aloud. “I think we may need something stronger; what say you brother?”
“I think you might be right; you once said she has never learned a thing from all the spankings she’s had. I kept a leather strap from a shipment of art supplies,” Benedict voices, “I think that might make a useful tool.”
“Excellent choice, brother,” you hear Anthony agree. 
You crane your neck to try and see what they are talking about, nerves flaring in your body at the thought of being struck with something. Benedict pulls you back against him with a strong arm around your waist. You feel his cock branding against your lower back, knowing he will be fucking you later.
“You see this, my girl,” he runs a tan leather strap between your breasts, ”what colour for this?”
“Yellow,” you waver, being honest.
Instantly his hold softens. “Okay, darling girl, don’t be nervous. I’ll go gentle, I promise,” he whispers and kisses your cheek, “you’ll tell me if you want me to stop, won’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” you sigh.
“You are such a good brave girl for us,” he compliments, “we want you to feel pleasure from this.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Are you okay to continue?” he checks.
“Yes, sir,” you nod, and he pulls away again.
He wraps the leather strap around his hand and confers with Anthony quietly. You smile softly, knowing they are planning to ensure your comfort and well-being. Anthony moves to lay on the chaise, and Benedict takes your hand and guides you lightly to straddle him.
“We think this could be a good oral lesson for our naughty little pupil,” Benedict tutors softly, “so why don't you take a seat here, right on his face?”
You gasp and flood down your thighs, the idea of being eaten out while you are disciplined so utterly appealing. You feel Anthony's breath warm on your inner thighs as you settle over him, Benedict guiding your hands to grasp the top of the chaise above Anthony's head. 
“Come here,” Anthony's honeyed voice drawls from between your thighs as he kisses the sensitive skin where your leg meets your body, “are you ready to try this, my brave girl?”
“Yes, my lord,” you assure, nerves melting a notch with his sweet attentions, pulsing with anticipation that he will remove the hairpin and give you a reprieve.
“Oh darling, no,” he teases, reading your mind, “this stays in place.” He tugs on the metal, and you cry out. “For now, at least, it's only coming off when we fuck you.”
With that, he flattens his tongue, lapping against your distended swollen clit, the heat and delicate tease of it hurtling you so close to orgasm it's startling, the sensation so magnified.
“My lord,” you gasp, “I'm going to come already.”
“So soon, my girl,” he huffs, “oh darling, I'm not going to stop just because you come. I'm going to keep going until you cry pretty tears all down your lovely face,” his voice a dangerous promise.
He licks again, allowing the end of his tongue to morph into a point that lingers and flicks against you. You whine, thighs already shaking as the approaching orgasm flickers at the corners of your mind.
Just as your focus is wholly on Anthony and his tongue taking you into oblivion, there's a snap of leather against your butt cheek. You squeal in surprise, having almost forgotten Benedict's plan. It drives you over the precipice, and you scream, convulsing hard against the hairpin, panting breaths. Your vision whiting out as you collapse forward over the end of the chaise. 
“Oh, that's it,” Benedict gruffs, “scream for me,” but it sounds so distant behind the rush of blood in your ears.
Before you’ve had a chance to recover, there’s another jolt of leather. Slightly stronger than the last aimed directly over where Anthony's hand had spanked you earlier. Your hips stutter, and you collapse onto Anthony's face, his tongue questing inside your channel. It's too much sensation.
“Oh fuck,” you exclaim loudly, overstimulated, as once again you feel a sting on your cheeks.
“She is loving this brother,” Benedict glowers, watching your mouth fall open, and your eyes roll.
“More, sir,” you implore; you don't recognise your own slurred voice. 
“You want me to flog you again, my girl?” Benedict's voice is gravelly and laboured.
“Yes, please, sir, give me more,” drunk on the utter tide of sensations, Anthony's tongue swirling inside you, spiralling you again, your clit and nipples throbbing in their bindings, your bum glowing.
Benedict growls, and the next blow feels wonderful; you scream thank yous as you move on instinct, grinding down onto Anthony, his tongue a sinful swirl of wonder, tears prickling your eyes as the pleasure and pain meld into one intoxicating pulse over your body.
You are floating now, leaking into Anthony's mouth as he mumbles praises deep into your cunt, Benedict panting as he reigns in the desire to flog you senseless, his arm shaking from the restraint and the unbridled lust of watching your skin bloom and you experience one long extended orgasm, fracturing while overwrought - a creature of lust and submission. 
“She looks fucking beautiful, brother,” Benedict gasps, dropping the strap, pulling your hair until your head tilts back and smashing his lips onto yours. His kiss is desperate and plundering; his hand descends to flick his thumbnail against your nipple. To have both their tongues inside you at either end pushes you over the edge even more, screaming into his mouth and shaking and crying.
Benedict sweeps you off Anthony and into his arms, still kissing you as you curl up into his hold, not fighting the blissful state you are slipping into.
You don't recall the next few moments; all you hear are soothing voices and soft touches. You come around, wedged between their bodies, as they kiss your face, shoulders, and neck.
“Well done, our wonderful precious girl,” Anthony praises, and you twist around to curl into his chest, familiar and so warm. “You took your lesson so well”. 
“Are you ready for your next?” he whispers warmly.
“What else did I do wrong, my lord?” you ask.
“Oh, nothing at all, my darling girl; you did so well taking your punishment. Now it's time for your lesson in pleasure.”
“Mm, that sounds wonderful, my lord.”
“Indeed, you have two teachers to please and please you.”
“As a treat, who do you want first, my good girl?” he nuzzles against your cheek, “I think you want to try Benedict's cock don't you?”
You bite your lip and nod meekly.
“Well, there's just one more surprise. Recline back on the chaise, my love,” he instructs gently, knowing you are still coming down from your intense experience.
Holding his hand gingerly, you crawl into place, hyper-aware of your nipples and clit. It feels like anything could make you scream again. You slowly settle down in a mostly reclined position. They are both watching you, unwinding their cravats. 
“Open your legs wide,” Benedict orders softly, and you obey on instinct. “Well, would you look at that brother? That truly is a work of art,” he adds, both of their gaze heavy between your legs.
They round different sides of the chaise and grab an arm each. You lay legs splayed as ordered, watching as they both loop their white evening cravats around a wrist each, tying a bow. They both kneel, and Anthony grabs your chin, his thumb swiping over your lips.
“We are going to tie you up, my darling, so you are completely at our mercy while we fuck you. What say you?” He asks.
“Green,” you enthuse, and he smiles warmly at your response. 
“And how are your nipples and bud, my darling?” he inquires sweetly. “I bet you are positively aching.”
“Yes, my lord, please make it better”, you beseech, writhing very slightly.
“Just a little while longer; it will be worth the discomfort, my darling,” he promises with a smile before leaning in to give you a soft kiss.
Benedict takes your arm to the side, bending it slightly above your head and loops the other end of his cravat around a brass ring at the top corner of the chaise; Anthony does the same. It is not uncomfortable, and you have room to move your arms a little but not much.
“I wish we had two more cravats,” Anthony contends. “We could tie her legs open too.”
“That's okay, brother; she can't close her legs with that pin on her body anyway,” Benedict points out, leaning down and pulling on it slightly.
You instinctively tug against your binding, crying out at the sensation it causes, gasping a breath. Benedict winks and moves away, pulling off his shirt.
Anthony hovers over you and kisses you, pulling your focus solely on him. 
“Oh, my darling girl,” he traces the contours of your face with his fingers, “I’ve never shared you with anyone like this. I trust you and my brother more than anyone; we make a beautiful team, don’t we?”
You nod.
“I’ve fantasised about watching you get fucked right before me. But don’t forget who you belong to,” he sighs, and you see the vulnerability in his eyes, a fear this step might change your dynamic.
“I’m always yours, my lord,” you breathe, reaching forward against your binding to chase his lips. He places a quick kiss, then pulls away slightly to your right. 
Your line of sight is now full of one thing. A very imposing, very naked Benedict, standing at the foot of the chaise looking down at you hungrily. He stripped while you had your moment with Anthony. Your breathing speeds up, realising what is about to happen. Your eyes fall to his cock, which he squeezes slightly in his hand. Memories of taking him down your throat flood back as he crawls slowly over your prone, tied body. 
His lips land on your neck, surprisingly tender, and your whole body lifts, chasing his. As his lips drag down onto your breast, your gaze falls to Anthony, 
“Does that feel good, my girl” Anthony’s voice is gruff, his hands busy undoing his shirt.
“Yes, my lord,” your answer morphs into a scream as Benedict teeths your trapped nipple. A large hand smears down your stomach between your legs and cups around your flesh.
“I think it’s time to remove this pin, don’t you, my girl?” Benedict’s voice is low and sweet against your breastbone.
“Please, sir,” you implore.
He gently eases the hairpin up and tosses it aside. The rush of blood to your clit is instant and shocking. You gasp, your eyes going wide.
“Oh, you feel that, don't you, my girl” Benedict gloats as he shifts between your legs.
“Yes, sir.” 
“What about this?” His tone is dangerous.
It’s the last thing you hear before he suddenly invades your soaked cunt. One strong, swift thrust buries himself deep inside you, a stretching, all-consuming invasion, your fingers and toes curling. 
“Oh fuck,” you and Benedict exhale almost in unison.
He feels different to Anthony seated inside you. You can’t articulate it; it’s just… a different stretch. No less intoxicating, though. 
“How is that, my girl?” Anthony pants as you stare over at him. He’s shirtless now, and his hand is at his trousers, roughly undoing buttons.
“So good, my lord,” you answer honestly, watching him undress as Benedict kisses your neck softly, your swollen clit pressed against his public bone. It won’t take much to make you come again.
Benedict cups your jaw to draw your attention to him, moving his face closer to yours. “I’m going to move now, my girl. Are you ready?” he whispers against your lips.
“Yes, sir,” you nod, meeting his hazy blue eyes.
He withdraws slowly, and you inhale, anticipation burning. He surges back into you, going even deeper this time somehow. As he makes contact with your clit you groan loudly.
“More, sir, please,” you petition, desperate to have him repeatedly slam against your swollen bud.
“Not yet,” he smirks, curling himself into the left side of your neck as you notice Anthony is now naked and taking a seat in a wingback leather chair a few feet away. Your skin prickles with excitement at the sight.
“Look at me, my girl,” Anthony calls as Benedict takes another stroke into you. You watch as he leans backwards and fists his cock. Oh god, he is going to touch himself while watching you get fucked. “You look so beautiful. Beg for him, beg for him to fuck you harder; I love to hear you desperate,” he implores. You are entranced by his hand moving steadily on his cock. You long to touch it, taste it. “Beg my girl,” he reminds.
“Please, sir, please fuck me harder,” you entreat to Benedict, your eyes pinging between him and Anthony, your voice cadence rising and falling with the roll of your body as he fucks into you slow and deep. The drag of him against your insides is so intoxicating.
“Oh, I love it when you beg,” Benedict gloats, a thumb sweeping your lips. “Do you like being tied up like this, my girl?” He questions, spearing into you more forcefully, smiling as you nod and moan. “Tell me how much. Tell me everything you like about this.”
“I love being at your mercy, sir,” you whisper, meeting his gaze and briefly sucking the thumb at your lips. “I love that my nipples are aching because you did this to me, sir,” you burble around his thumb. He growls at that one and moves to bite your earlobe. “I love that we are being watched, sir,” you confess breathily.
“Oh, does my dirty girl love an audience, hmm?” Benedict asks, cupping your jaw. “How would you like to be tied up and fucked outside, my girl? Where anyone could watch?”
“Yes, please, sir,” you enthuse, the thought making you gush more around him. A new thing you never knew you wanted until he said it.
“Do you hear that, brother?” Benedict says louder as he keeps pushing into you. “Our precious girl wants an audience watching her be pleasured.”
You look at Anthony and watch him lick his lips, moving his knees wider, his hand speeding up around his cock. “You filthy little girl”, Anthony growls approvingly. 
Benedict’s lips descend onto yours, and he captures your mouth as he increases the strength and pace of his thrusts; you are panting and whining into his kisses as he hits your distended throbbing clit more and more. It propels you fast towards the edge. You hear Anthony groan, knowing he is watching you, palming his cock. But you can’t see him as Benedict surrounds you, his arms encasing you close against him, the heat of his body intense, his chest glancing against your restricted nipples, aching so badly.
“Oh god, you are going to come, aren’t you, my girl,” Benedict moans, feeling your flutter around him.
“Yes, sir,” you grit out, writhing and chasing your peak, your grip wrapped around the cravats tying you down.
“Do it, come on my cock,” he commands, and all you can do is obey. You tussle against your bindings as you tense all over. The white-hot throbbing in your clit fanning out across your body, a static buzz at the back of your head, your toes curling, crying out as you pulsate hard.
“Oh fuck,” he exclaims, “you are like a vice, my girl; I can’t last.”
He groans deeply and suddenly withdraws from your body, spilling onto your belly, shuddering.
“You are amazing,” he pants as he grabs your face and kisses you some more.
“Happy birthday”, you whisper to him,  and he breaks into a killer smile.
“Thank you. You are the best gift I could receive,” Benedict compliments with a quick final kiss.
He moves gracefully off your body but twists to sit on the floor next to the chaise, reaching under it and grabbing some cloth, tenderly cleansing the mess he made on you. 
“I'm not going anywhere,” he assures, as you see Anthony rise from his chair and stalk over to you. 
Still quivering from the orgasm, you need a little time to reset. As he often does, Anthony senses that and lowers himself onto you gradually. His cock nudges against your body as he covers you, but he does not push in. Just resting against you. A hot solid weight against your inner thigh.
“You look so beautiful being fucked, my darling girl,” he gusts and runs his nose tenderly over your cheek, kissing along your jaw. Gentle, calming sensual movements.
Sitting beside the chaise, Benedict grabs your bound hand and holds it sweetly, pulling it towards him and kissing your knuckles, almost chaste. 
Anthony slowly kisses a trail down your neck as you sigh and feel his smile against your skin. He works his way lower, peppering your skin with little kisses until he reaches the swell of your breast and your breath a little more ragged; he’s skating close to your nipples, still throbbing within the hairpins.
He faintly holds his tongue against one, and you inhale sharply and let out a long whine. The lightest of touches feel like liquid fire searing you. 
“God, I've never seen you like this,” he groans and surges his hips against you, his tip nudging your entrance. “This was a genius idea, brother,” he concedes without looking at him.
Benedict just chuckles, looking up from kissing your hand. “You wait until we take them off”, he crows.
“When will that be, sir?” you ask.
“When he’s inside you, and it’s time for you to come again my girl”, Benedict replies with a crooked grin, kissing up your bound forearm. “I'll decide when that is,” he adds with heated mischief. 
Anthony huffs a laugh at that and takes himself in hand, lining up and pushing into you just a little bit. You sigh and close your eyes as he slowly slides into your body, Benedict's lips warm on your arm. 
“You are soaked, my girl”, he growls as he pushes into your hilt. That familiar feeling of being so held open by his warm solid cock is something you always treasure.
Anthony moves slowly at first, whispering gently into your ear about how good you feel, how it’s been too long, and you moan in agreement, wishing you had your hands to run into his luscious hair and grab hold; that always makes him buck a little hard inside you. 
Benedict shifts to sucking each of your fingers in sync with Anthony’s thrusts into you, his eyes trained on the movement of both your hips. The swirling of his tongue makes you long for the next time he goes down on you as he did before, holding you down forcefully. There is so much more you want to do with these talented boys and revisit—you will never tire of them.
Anthony increases the pace of his thrusts, hands smearing down your body to your knees, hitching your legs up and wider apart, making you gasp, moan, and writhe under him. You are fighting against the silky cravats' hold against your wrists, desperate to touch him, feel his warm skin under your palms.
He changes position, sitting up and hauling you bodily onto his thighs, hands wrapped around your hipbones as he pulls you onto him, hitting a new angle inside, the head of his cock spearing against that spot which drives you to madness.
“Please, sir, I need more,” you plead to Benedict between moans.
“What do you need, my girl?” he questions, licking his lips and scanning your body, watching your back arch, shoulders dragging against the velvet of the chaise. 
“Whatever you can give me, please, sir,” you implore, desperate for more sensation—a tide to sweep you away again.
“Hmm, then I think it's time for this…” is the only warning you get before he reaches and slides one hairpin off your nipple, immediately sucking it deep into his mouth as it revives. You scream loud at the rush of blood and sensation; clenching tight around Anthony’s cock he cries out.
“Fuck darling, do that again.” 
“Oh, she will.” Benedict gloats and switches attention to the other nipple nearest to him. Discarding the hairpin and enveloping it in a hot strong pull of his lips. His fingers snagging against the nipple that his mouth abandoned.
Anthony groans loud, fingers digging into your hips so hard he will leave marks as you scream and bear down on him again. Benedict surges up and captures your lips with his as he pinches both nipples, swallowing your screams and cries. For all the punishment you were metered out, there seems to be a balance more of pleasure as you climb quickly towards another orgasm. 
“Do it,” Benedict orders quietly against your lips, knowing you are so close you just need something to push you over the precipice, and he's decided to use his voice and hands.  “Do it now, come on his cock just like you came on mine, our beautiful filthy girl.”
Anthony's fingers find your clit, and it's too much at once. You stop hearing their voices and encouraging sounds; it all fades into black as a rush of blood fills your ears and your eyes close. You are swept away by the strong palpitations of your core, tensing and releasing all your muscles, notching up your spine, curving off the chaise, pulsing hard in your aching nipples.
Anthony grunts loudly and loses all finesse in his movements as he stutters and growls, pulling out just in time to spill himself onto your public hair. He collapses on top of you, gusting breaths, his head resting on your breastbone, your thighs still draped over his legs.
“Fuck. I’d forgotten what that feels like,” he pants. “We can't go so long without our girl again,” he admits quietly between deep inhales. 
Benedict kisses the dewy skin of your shoulder as you shudder delicately, sensations still rippling across your skin.
“You should never be out of our beds,” Anthony states, rubbing his nose unhurriedly over your swollen nipples, making you moan again.
“Our beds?” Benedict queries, a tinge of something hopeful in his voice.
“Yes, brother,” Anthony sighs, “I trust you with our girl. She's ours now, if the lady permits, of course,” he demures.
“Hell yes, she does,” you murmur. They both laugh warmly in response. 
“And yes, that means I permit you to spend time with her too, without me, on occasion, just as I do,” Anthony says sincerely, untying one of your wrists.
Benedict swallows heavily and nods his thanks as he does the same to your other wrist, freeing you completely.
“But I want both of you,” you pipe up, moving your arms to run your fingers into both of their hair, “all the time.” You add as they both sigh heavily at the sensation of your fingernails scratching their scalps.
“Well, that certainly…. can be arranged,” Anthony smiles up at you from your chest as Benedict nuzzles against your neck.
Your beautiful boys.
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Anthony & Benedict taglists: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @wysteria-clad @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @chaoticcalzoneranchsports
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hockeyandhrsepwr · 1 year
Text
How on Earth?
*The boys try to embarrass Eddy, but things don’t go the way they expect*
The hockey boys are at a house party and have decided to spice the evening up with a little game of truth or dare.
“Eddy, your turn” Luke says and the boy rolls his eyes. “Dare.”
“Okay, think of the cheesiest pick up line you can, then say it to a girl of our choice & try to get a date.” The boys start snickering and looking around the room. “Her!” Duke points to a group of girls chatting in the corner “Bruh there’s four of them. Be specific.” He rolls his eyes. “The redhead in the black top. 20 bucks you can’t get her number.”
“Ooh, 30 he gets shut down right away.” Luke pipes up.
“15 he can’t get a dance with her” Comes from Mark
“Wow guys, thanks for the support.” Eddy flips them off as he makes his way towards the girl.
Duke snickers and the guys ask him what’s funny “She’s in my management class. Ive asked her out before but she said she doesn’t like athletes. And she definitely saw him over here with me.” He rubs his hands together. “There no way he doesn’t get shut down.”
Y/n POV
You’re standing chatting to a few friends that lived in your first year dorm, when someone taps you on the shoulders. Your friends are smirking and you turn to see Ethan Edwards, one of the hockey players. You know a few of them from classes but haven’t met him yet. You can see Dylan over his shoulder smirking. Oh shit, he’s wearing glasses. They’re my weakness, especially given how cute he is even without them.
Ethan POV
Holy shit she’s hot. The girl looks up at me questioningly. I’ve forgot what I’m supposed to say.
Y/n POV
He clears his throat
“Sorry, I just had to come over & say, my eyesight may be crap, but I can still see you’re an absolute catch. “
It takes a second but you laugh. “Really?”
His face falls, so you rush to finish “It was cute!” And his face perks back up. “So if I asked you if you want to grab a drink?” “Now or another time?”
He smiles “hopefully both?”. Damn he’s cute. You smile back.
“How about coffee tomorrow morning?” You wink
“That sounds good! Can I get your number so we can sort it out?”
“I’m thinking more we could maybe grab one now at my place and then see…” you trail off, hoping he’s picking up what you’re putting down. It takes a sec, but he seems to get it & blushes. He nods, dopey grin on his face. “I’d like that”
“Okay, Why don’t you give me a few minutes to tell my friends I’m leaving & then ill come grab you”
He nods & heads back to the boys as you walk off in search of your party buddy.
No one POV
Ethan walks back over to the boys, getting razzed because he didn’t get her number. They ask what pick up line he used, and the response is overwhelmingly “what the hell?” “Please tell me you didn’t”
Duker starts up “God thats embarrassing man. Of all the possiblities, you come up with that? No wonder it didn’t work!” He finishes just as someone approaches the group
Y/n POV
You sling an arm around Dukes shoulder as you say hey to him, Mackie & mark, who you’ve had classes with at some point over the last 2 years.
“Sup boys, having fun?” They nod. “Cool, Eddy you ready?”
He nods & extends a hand. You grab it and pull him towards you. “Bye boys” you call over your should as you pull Eddy away “see you Monday Duker.”
You head out and start the walk back to your apartment.
Back at the party
The boys are speechless. “How in the fuck did that work?” Mackie muses
“Guess its not that she’s doesn’t like athletes, she just didn’t want you” Luke laughs as he nudges Duke, who’s still staring at the front door.
“Legend” Mark says, as some of the junior guys make their way over. “Did Eddy just take a girl home?” Jacob says, and the boys relay the tale. “Alright! He’s got game.”
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brokenjere · 2 years
Text
stick season (c.f)
AN: so i was inspired by the song stick season by noah kahan and as much as i'd like to gatekeep the song, please go listen to it. there will be a second half to this, it just got way too long way too fast. hopefully you enjoy it. please let me know if you did and reblog to share it with your friends.
Summary: the Conrad you loved was fun, adventurous, and loyal. he had a fierceness that you could not escape. you were certain he was the one. forever. you didn't expect that Susannah's death would change him in all the worst ways.
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Spring, 18 YEARS OLD 
The day Conrad told you Susannah was dying, it was gloomy. The sky was too dark, much like the cloud that lived above your boyfriend's head lately. He was cold and withdrawn, and he had quit football just a few weeks prior. You didn’t know what was going on with him. You sat on the steps of his back porch and begged him to tell you. “Con, please talk to me. Something’s wrong,” you pleaded.
“I’m fine,” he belted. You had been arguing for what seemed like days, weeks maybe, about his attitude shift. It didn’t feel like he was even Conrad anymore. He was someone new living in his body. Someone you didn’t know if you liked very much. 
“You’re lying,” you sneered. “I know you. Better than anyone. Even Jeremiah can see you’re all fucked up lately. Quitting football? Are you crazy?” Football was his thing. You knew, deep down, football was more about Adam than it was about Conrad, but the smile on his face every Friday night made you wonder if he secretly loved it just as much. 
“Oh, screw Jere.” 
“You don’t mean that.” It was starting to rain. You could feel the droplets of rain on your feet as they stuck out over the porch roof. The rain clouds were moving in quickly but you didn’t care. You two used to dance in the rain and now you were on the verge of a screaming match. 
“I do mean that. Screw him and screw our father. They’re both the same,” he grumbled. His hands were itching at his jeans like he was feening for something you couldn’t see. “I’m sick of them both.” 
“What the hell has gotten into you?” You asked again, knowing he would explode. Sometimes, pissing him off just enough was the only way to get him to tell you what he meant. It had taken you nearly ten years to get him to open up to you, three to learn how to pull it out of him, and one to learn that if he didn’t want to talk: he wouldn’t. 
“Mom has cancer again, okay?” He snapped. He used the falling-apart railing to pull himself off the step and when he looked down at you, you barely recognized him. Cancer. Susannah. “I don’t know how long she’s known but she hasn’t told anyone. I found out because I was checking her email for something behind her back and saw something from her doctor.”
“Con,” you trailed off. What more was there to say? You could bounce up and hug him, but he’d hate that. You could say you were sorry, but that word felt like used-up tissue after she was sick for so long all those years ago. You could tell him she would be okay, but that would be a lie. “I can’t believe I didn’t know.”
“How could you?” He asked. You stood up and put your hands on his cold cheeks. You wished now it wasn’t raining. That it was sunny and could warm his face. “Jere doesn’t even know. I think maybe Dad does, but she’s been pushing him away for weeks now. I think they’re going to split up.” 
“Why?” Adam and Susannah were in love, you were sure of it but you didn’t live in that house. Fake smiles could be put on when you arrive and they could disappear when you left. Maybe that’s why Conrad always preferred that you visit him. 
“He cheated on her the first time. When she was in chemo. I didn’t know until recently when they started arguing about it. I guess she just,” he paused and searched your face for something. “She just doesn’t want him there in the end.” 
Your heart cracked open and spilled all over the steps. 
18 was too young to bear this burden alone. How had he done it for so long? You felt miserable that you didn’t know until now but then you thought, how selfish? “You don’t have to do this alone,” is all you said. 
Summer, 18 years old 
Keeping Susannah’s sickness a secret was hard. It was time-consuming, sad, lonely, and just plain hard. You wanted to visit more, drive the extra hours just to see her for one extra day. You made the trip from Vermont to Boston almost every week now. You and Conrad used to split it up, he’d come to visit you one weekend and you’d go visit him the next. It was the same routine since the two of you could drive but now it was different. He needed to be home. 
“Just till after summer,” Conrad said one night. I think she'll tell Jeremiah after summer. 
“You think,” you clarified. “He deserves to know.” Conrad nodded his head in agreement but never told Jeremiah. You dodged all the what’s going on with him questions and pretended like he was fine. Even after he had started smoking pot and drinking too much. There wasn’t much for you to do anymore except be there for him. 
That summer wasn’t the same. It was the last summer. And Conrad ruined it with his big dark cloud but that wasn’t fair of you to think. You stayed up too late in your summer bedroom, kicking off the sheets as it got too hot, and hated yourself for being mad at him. He was grieving. But she wasn’t gone yet. She wasn’t gone and he was acting like she was. 
One night, you snuck out of your house and walked the half block to the Fisher’s, and snuck through the back gate. Conrad was sitting on the edge of the pool, smoking a joint. You kicked off your flip-flops and he turned at the noise. He couldn’t help but smile at you. “What are you doing out here so late?” 
“It’s only 11 pm,” you told him. He laughed as you tested the water with your toes before committing to sitting on the edge of the pool with him. The second you sat down, his hand grabbed yours. 
“Thank you,” he said. 
“For what?” 
“For being here for me. With this stuff with my mom. I know I’m difficult and I know it’s hard for you to keep it to yourself. I know you love her, too,” he said. You squeezed his hand three times to let him know it was okay, but you didn’t say it out loud. “I love you, YN. You know that?” 
“Forever,” you replied. 
That was your thing. I love you. Forever. You promised him forever when you were only sixteen years old. You promised him forever every time you take the 4hour drive to Boston. You promised him forever every time you kissed his lips. 
“Forever,” he repeated. 
The drinking got worse. He was throwing punches at bonfires, slamming Chardonnay at book parties. He was becoming relentless and you couldn’t stop him. “Please don’t drink too much,” you asked him, fluttering your lashes because that usually worked. 
“I don’t drink too much,” he said, after three glasses. It had only been an hour. “I just wanna go.”
You grabbed your purse hastily from the couch you two were sitting at and stood up. Conrad didn’t move, move, instead, he reached for your wrist, grabbed it, and stopped you from moving. “What?” You snapped back at him. His face twisted into an even mixture of sadness and regret. Maybe even slight distaste. 
“Nothing,” he whispered, shaking his head. “Nothing. I want nothing.” He let go of your wrist and his hand dropped into his lap. He tapped the side of the wine glass with his finger and stared off in the distance. Susannah was mingling with people, smiling and laughing as if everything was fine and Jeremiah was picking at the snack table for something other than stale crackers and salami. 
You sighed and sat back down next to Conrad. “I’m sorry,” you told him. “I shouldn’t have just snapped on you.” Conrad shrugged as if he didn’t want to hear what you had to say and finished off his wine. 
“I’m over it,” he said and got up, walking into the party and disappearing into the crowd of book lovers and loyal family members. 
Conrad was right about one thing, and that was that at the end of the summer Susannah would tell the rest of the family. You didn’t want to be there, so you stayed home and cocooned yourself in your old summer duvet and tried not to think about it. 
Conrad called you late that night and you talked on the phone until the sun came up. Hours felt like minutes and all you wanted was to hold him but instead, you listened to his breathing and noticed when he sniffled and prayed that he didn’t have a headache. 
Eventually, Conrad fell asleep. You stayed up, listening to him sleep. Sometimes he muttered half-eaten words and you would smile to yourself. When the corner store opened, you rode your old bike and got a box of the good muffins. The ride there was muscle memory. Your feet peddled and your handlebars turned almost on their own as if the bike had a mind living in the basket and remembered every time you had ridden it down these streets. 
You saw the old tire tracks, like a path laid out for you. One set for you, and one set for Conrad. You rode those bikes endlessly through Cousin’s, taking all the hidden paths you could find. Never stopping. Going until your knees hurt. You’d crash somewhere on the beach, throwing your bikes in the sand and collapsing on top of each other.
“Surprised those old shoes are holding up still,” Conrad teased, kicking your old pair of Nikes with his fresh new ones. 
“Hey, they’re sturdy,” you defended, laughing as you looked down at them. The white soles were discolored a nasty grey color and the laces were turning black but they were still holding up and you would wear them every summer until they fell apart. 
“They’re nasty, that’s what they are,” Conrad laughed, rolling over and sitting up in the sand. He began untying your shoe and you kicked, begging him to stop. “Take them off,” he said. 
“How will I ride home?” You asked, raising your eyebrows but no longer fighting him. When Conrad said something, you did it. He had a way with his words that made them all seem just so matter of fact. He got that from Susannah. It was why you fell in love with him. 
“Barefoot. You’ve done it before.” That was true. The two of you rode your bikes down to a different part of the beach you had never explored before in your swimsuits. You were fourteen and lucky your mom let you go off to a different stretch of the beach other than your own and the Fisher’s and the sand in between, but she always agreed when Conrad was around. 
“That was different.” 
“No it’s not,” he said. He took off both your shoes and then your socks. You took them from him and tied them together, throwing them in the basket of your bike. You dug your heels in the hot sand. “I’m getting rid of these things, let’s go.” 
You stood up and followed Conrad back to the bikes and didn’t question him when he rode off back down the way you came. When you reached the Fisher’s house, Conrad got off his bike, letting it slam on the cement. You set yours down nicely and he was already tying the laces of your shoes together. “What are you doing?” You asked. “You said you were going to get rid of them.” 
“I am. But I also want to keep them forever,” he told you, tossing a smile over his shoulder at you. Once they were tied, he tossed them up into the sky toward the telephone wire that ran through the neighborhood. They came crashing down around you. 
“Well, that was almost murder,” you commented.
“Let me try again,” he said. He threw them up again, and again, and again, until the fifth time, they wrapped themselves around the wire and hung there in the sun. “There. Now they will never leave us.” You loved him at that moment. You were fourteen and you loved him. 
Now, you set the muffins down on the counter of the all too quiet Fisher kitchen. Susannah never locked the back door, so you let yourself in. The sun was bright against her white kitchen counters and you grabbed her pastry display case from next to the fridge and arranged the muffins in the circle perfectly before putting the lid back on and leaving it in the center of the island counter. You filled a vase with a bouquet of daisies next to it. 
You tip-toed up the stairs and down the hall, away from Susannah’s master bedroom and toward Conrad’s room. His door was shut but you opened it anyway. His body was under the covers and all you could see was his messy hair. You didn’t really want to wake him, but he was a light sleeper. You kicked off your shoes quietly and lifted the covers, tucking yourself under them and into his chest. He smiled in his sleep and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. You could pretend, under these covers and engulfed in his scent, that Susannah wasn’t sick. 
You kissed his nose and then his cheek and then his sleepy, chapped lips. “Hi,” he whispered. 
“Hi,” you whispered back. “I brought muffins.” 
“I love you,” he sighed. What he meant was I need you. 
“Forever.” What you meant was until death due us part. 
Spring- 19 years old 
Conrad wore a blue tie, a loose-fitted tuxedo jacket, and Adam’s old shoes to the funeral. You wore a black, lacy dress, with spaghetti straps and your mom's old high heels to the funeral. You both cried. 
During the wake, at the Fisher’s house in Boston, you made pleasantries with people you didn’t know but talked to you like they did. “She was a wonderful woman, wasn’t she?” “She did amazing things for this community, huh?” “How are the boys?” Adam was nowhere to be found. Your mother was hosting more of the same, and Conrad, well, he was hiding in the basement.
The light was off but you could see his figure from the light coming in from the main floor. “Are you going to come up?” You asked him from the doorway. 
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to,” he replied. Curt. Short. 
“Do you want food? My mom made lasagna,” you asked. 
“No.” What he meant was go away.
You left, shutting the door behind you. What you meant was please come back. 
Summer - 19 years old 
The summer house was a mess. It was a collection of Susannah’s life, the better parts of her life, littered between the walls. No one wanted to go. It was going to sit there and collect dust until the grief finally settled to a gentle roar and you and the boys could stomach the smell of sandalwood and dying flowers in the kitchen. 
That’s not how it happened, though. Conrad decided to do a summer program at the local college for pre-med. You were excited that he seemed to know what he wanted for his future so young because you had no freaking idea. It wasn’t that much further than his home in Boston, so you still drove up during the weekends. Your heart used to lurch at the thought of packing your weekend bag and starting your drive to Boston. You used to sit on the porch when Conrad was still an hour out of your hometown in Vermont and wait for him. Now, you had to drag your ass to the gas station to fill up enough to even make it halfway and convince yourself you didn’t want to turn around. 
He didn’t take the summer program as seriously as you had hoped he would. He was drinking all the time. He was doing drugs all the time. Susannah took all the best parts of him. He was no longer the Conrad that you fell in love with but he was the Conrad you committed to and forever meant forever and you would forever hope he came back. 
Conrad called you one night, the jeep roaring in the background. “I need you to meet me in Cousin’s,” he told you. 
“Why?” You asked. He hadn’t asked much of you lately. Since Susannah, he didn’t ask much of anyone. He was a recluse. You don’t even think he talked to Jeremiah much anymore. 
“I just need to be back.” 
The shoes were still strung up in the telephone wires when you got there. Last summer felt like forever ago and the beach didn’t smell the same. It was quiet, not quite yet the summer season, but it still looked the same. The house looked untouched. You wondered if there were some things Susannah left behind. Still in the spot where she accidentally left them. 
As you walked in the front door, you hoped that maybe this was it. Maybe this was the moment Conrad became Conrad again. Maybe he’d start laughing again and playing guitar. When you found him, he was packing a box in the living room. “What are you doing?” You asked. 
He popped up, looking over at you. A grin grew on his face, one that you had committed to memory. He closed the gap between you two, wrapping you up in his arms and twirling you around. When he set you down, he cupped your cheeks and kissed you. “I missed you,” he said. 
“You saw me last week,” you remind him. He saw you, as in, he laid his eyes on you. You slept in his bed. He fed you microwave ramen noodles. He didn’t really see you, though. He didn’t see that you grimaced every time he lit a joint. He didn’t see you stick your nose up when he asked you to come to a party with him. He didn’t see you cry when he went without you. 
“I’m just happy to see you,” he said. “Is that okay?”
“Yeah, that’s okay.” You looked behind him at all the boxes. Most of them were empty, but he had a few things packed away. Candlesticks that lined the fireplace, weird decor that Susannah had thrifted years ago, old electronics from under the TV console. “So are you gonna answer my question?” You asked. 
“I don’t know. I just got here and I don’t know. There was too much stuff.” 
“What about school?” You asked quietly. You had thought about his summer school courses your whole drive there. After you left last week, he told you he was going to drop out. You knew he waited until you left because you’d have thrown a fit. And a fit you did throw, but in the end, you gave up. His final tests were coming up and you didn’t know if he was even going to go back. 
“Whatever, it doesn’t matter,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. He went back to the boxes and pointed toward the bookcase. “Do you wanna go through that or do you want me to?” 
“Did I come here to help you pack?” 
Conrad looked at you. He rubbed his hand over his face and then sunk into the couch. “No,” he said. “No.” 
“Then why did you come here?” You sat down next to him. The boy that once opened up to you had been so closed off for the last year, it was hard to see him still in there but if you looked hard enough, you could see him swimming in his pupils. “Why don’t you talk to me anymore?” 
He didn’t look at you. “It’s just hard. I just want to be around her and this is the only place I can do that. All her stuff is gone.” You put your hand on his shoulders and he started to sob. “She’s not there anymore.” 
He cried into his hands and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into your chest. You could feel your shirt soaking already, but you held him as he cried. 
For the next few days, you tried to keep Conrad away from all the boxes. You unpacked the one he had thrown together when you got there while he cleaned up the kitchen and went grocery shopping. You wondered if this was what it was like being domestic. Grocery shopping, housekeeping, late-night swims in the pool. Conrad was the one. You knew that. 
When he came back with his first grocery haul, you were appalled at the collection of junk food and fruit he had in the bags. “Where’s all the food?” You asked him. He pointed toward the bags as if that was a stupid question and you blinked. “To cook.” 
“Cook?” 
“We can’t survive off of,” you started and then dug through the bags pulling out bags of chips and powdered donuts, “Cheetos and Little Debbies.” Conrad laughed and it was beautiful. His smile was beautiful. “We gotta go back.” 
Conrad pushed the bags of groceries out of the way and grabbed your hips, hoisting you up on the counter. “Right now?” He asked. He leaned forward, brushing his lips against your jawline. You had never had the entire summer house to yourselves before. There was always someone lurking around. Even at yours, your family was always home. 
“On the counter?” You asked as his lips trailed kisses down your neck. He moved the strap of your tank top out of the way and kissed the skin under it as if it were a sacred place. He nodded. “You’re insane,” you teased but it was nice. Him being his old self again. Sometimes, there were moments when it felt like Susannah never died and Conrad never changed and you were both sixteen again sneaking around your houses during the weekends. Always being too invested in each other to care about your friends. 
His hands found their way up your shirt and you would have let him keep going. Take you right there in the kitchen. On top of the donuts. But, you weren’t as alone as you thought because someone cleared their throat from the other side of the room and Conrad jumped back, leaving your skin cold. Adam. 
“Dad?” He asked. “What the hell are you doing here?” 
“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at school?” 
“It doesn’t matter,” Conrad snapped. “What are you doing here?” 
“I’m selling the house. Pack your things.” Adam looked between you and Conrad and his eyes trailed down your body. You suddenly felt very self-conscious. “Both of you.” 
Conrad and Adam went at it for another 10 minutes about the house. Conrad lost, in the end, but he was given the grace from Adam to stay until the end of summer. Come September, the house would be on the market and Susannah would be gone forever. You thought that was a win, but Conrad had thought the same. 
He sat outside on the porch, when it was too dark to even see the stars, and downed a bottle of red wine. “Why do you drink so much?” It was a question you’d wanted to ask for so long. Long before Susannah died. It was like he needed it to keep himself afloat. 
“I don’t.” His voice was hoarse and raw and you thought maybe he had been crying. “I drink exactly the right amount.” It was his attempt at a lame joke, you knew that much. 
You sat down next to him. The pool moved slowly with the wind and you could hear the ocean in the distance. This was Cousins late at night. This was peace. If you pushed away the rest of it. 
“You know that’s not true,” you said. He was drinking right out of the bottle and he took a swig and set it back down without offering you any. “When will it end?”
“When will what end, YN? The pain? The suffering? The fucking grief I feel?” His words cut through your skin like a million little razor blades. Suddenly, the salt air was suffocating. “I drink so I don’t feel that. I smoke so I don’t think about that. But you’re always here. Nagging me.” 
“You don’t mean that.”
“There you go again, telling me what I mean,” he scoffed. “You don’t shit about it, YN. You didn’t lose your family.” 
“You didn’t lose your family either,” you snapped back. You finally looked at him and he didn’t bother looking back. “You lost your mom, I know. I lost her, too. We all did. But you still have me and you still have Jeremiah,” you reminded him. Jeremiah, who he had not called since he started living in the dorms. Jeremiah, who didn’t know where his brother was or about the summer house being sold. 
Conrad stood up then, throwing the bottle on the patio. The bottle shattered, leaving a huge red mark that was sure to stain. Pieces of glass flew into the pool. He didn’t say anything as he walked back into the house. You slept on the couch that night. 
The next morning, you woke up early and tried to hose off the wine from the patio and sweep up the glass so no one stepped on it. The wine did stain just a little bit, like a bruise on porcelain skin. Susannah would be pissed, you thought. 
“I’m sorry about that,” Conrad’s voice came out from behind you. You were shocked he was up this early, but maybe he never went to bed. You didn’t ask and you didn’t reply. Scooping shards of glass out of the pool was like finding a needle in a haystack. A stupid cliche for a stupid thing to have to do. “YN,” he said again. 
This time you looked at him. He had bags under his eyes bigger than a crescent moon and sleep in his eyes. His hair was a mess. He shoved his hands in his jeans and kicked rocks off the porch. “You’re sorry?” You asked and he nodded. Instead of starting another fight, you said, “okay.” He grabbed the other pool net and started scooping for the glass, too. 
That night, you taught him how to cook chicken, and this time, you drank the wine with him. It was nice, just the two of you. You sipped on the wine and told him when to check the chicken as you stirred the rice and he turned on the music too loud and danced around the dining room table, pulling you around with him. That night, you made love in his old bedroom like you had done many nights before, but this night, he felt like Conrad again. 
“Maybe you should call Jeremiah,” you said to him the next day over the good muffins and coffee you had brewed while he was gone. “Tell him about the house.” 
“Why?” Conrad asked, furrowing his brows. “I’ll get my dad to change his mind. There’s no reason to tell Jere.” 
Conrad had it in his head that he could save the house now. You didn’t know how he’d do that and you didn’t think he had a plan, but in his head, he had all summer. “You should tell him because it’s his house, too. And you have to go back to school in a few weeks. Finish your exams.” You tip-toed around the words, hoping they wouldn’t crack the fragile foundation your relationship was on right now. 
“I told you I’m not going back to school and I’m gonna save the house,” he repeated a little more firmly this time. He stabbed his muffin with a fork. “Eat your food,” he said. You looked down at your untouched muffin and pushed the plate it was on away from you. 
“I’m not hungry.” Conrad chuckled and shook his head. “What?” You asked. 
Conrad pushed out of his chair, the feet scratching the hardwood floor. “Nothing. I
gotta go.” 
���Go where? We’re eating breakfast.” 
“I was eating breakfast. You were nagging me,” he said. There he was again. This Conrad was mean, petulant, and grieving. He was not the Conrad that you fell in love with but he was the Conrad that you had committed to every time you said forever.
“How am I nagging?” You asked. The fight you wanted to avoid was now bubbling up in your throat. “Because I want you to be successful? Want you to go to school and talk to your brother?” 
“I’m fucking grieving, YN. We all deal with it in our own way, can’t you just let me be? First the drinking and now this? Will it ever stop?” 
“Will you?” You stood up now, the feet of your chair making a more horrific noise than his did. Conrad walked around the kitchen island until he was by the sink. With the island between you two, there was a sea of unspoken words. “I think you need to really look yourself in the mirror and decide if this is who you want to be. You’re pushing everyone away. When was the last time you even spoke to Jere?” 
“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “He’ll be there when I need him to be.” 
“You think that because he’s your brother he won't give you the finger?” You asked, laughing a little under your breath. “Is that why you’ve been treating me like this? Because you think I won’t leave?” Your heart was racing and you were saying things that needed to be said but things that would probably be better left unsaid. A small roar of a fire that expands with every word. 
“You said forever, remember?” He slammed his hands down on the counter and searched your face. His expression didn’t change even after you felt a tear roll down your cheek. “You said forever so that means forever. Through this hard time and the next, right? That means you’re gonna stay and help me get the house back and everything will be fine. Right?” 
All you could do was shake your head. You didn’t like this Conrad. You didn’t want forever with this Conrad. You wanted the Conrad that would pull you outside in the darkness when it was raining just to dance with you. You wanted the Conrad that would let you win when you raced to the ocean. You wanted the Conrad that tied your laces together to keep your memories safe in the clouds. 
“No,” you said and you grabbed your purse and walked out of the house and did not look back.
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kaziee2 · 1 year
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Family? | Chapter 1 |
Summary: Natasha and Yelena will not rest until they find you along with Alexei and Melina
Warnings: Mentions of Redroom
Pair: [Natasha x sister!reader] [Yelena x sister!reader] (+Avengers)
[Words: 1.5k] [A/N: Not ultimately proofread, so sorry this took so long, I'm already working on other stories and hopefully can post them soon, just so I can get back writing]
Masterlist [Likes and reblogs are always appreciated]
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Natasha couldn’t rest and she really wasn’t until she could find some kind of clue into finding you, it was more difficult more than she realized, there was no data that could give her any information and she was very close into finding some way to bring back Dreykov and torturing him into telling her where she could find you. Everyone was starting to worry, even Yelena who was also trying to find you and she knew this, but she wasn’t willing to take-a-break until she finds something.  
‘’Nat, when was the last you slept?’’ She looked up from her computer to find Wanda standing in the doorway of her office with a concerned look. She was trying to find an answer to Wanda’s question but couldn’t find any, she then realized that she hasn’t had any sleep after making it her mission to find you.  
“Everybody is worried, you know? They’re worried for you, hell! even Yelena is worried and she’s just as bad as you are right now.’’ Wanda crossed her arms over her chest, her face laced with an angry expression but also in concern. ‘’I can’t rest Wanda, not until I find her. She’s out there somewhere, probably still under the control of that fucking bastard!’’ Natasha remarked as she stood up from her desk, staring directly at Wanda. She can’t rest now, when she could be using her time to find you. ‘’And when you find her what are you going to do, huh? You think when she sees you, she’ll just run up to your arms and hug you? Just like you said Nat, she could still be under the mind-control.’’  Natasha knew Wanda was right, but she always put the thought of her fighting you at the back of her head, she didn’t want to fight you, she wanted to find you and finally complete her lost family.  
“I- ‘’ She tried to reason with Wanda again, but someone entered the room. “Sestra(Sister), have you found anything yet?’’ Yelena asked her sister as she walked into the room. Natasha could see the small eye-bags in her sisters' eyes and how exhausted she was. 
“Ok, That’s ENOUGH!’’ Wanda shouted at the both of them, red wisp showing at the top of her fingers. Wanda used her magic and grabbed both Natasha and Yelena then made them both face her, restricting their movements with her magic. “You both will get sleep and nothing else,’’ They tried to protest but Wanda shut them up again “Everybody is worried, most especially Kate and Maria. Kate even started begging me to use my magic on you Yelena, but I never did, but now I am freaking considering it. And Maria doesn’t even need to ask me, her thoughts are loud enough.’’ Both sisters looked at Wanda sadly, her words finally sinking in. They were both still being held by Wanda’s magic but then suddenly the magic disappeared, and they were free.
Silence rang around the room until Natasha finally spoke up. “Ok, we’ll put this on hold until Yelena and I get some sleep.’’ Natasha spoke softly. Wanda eyed her intently, checking if she was lying or not. Seconds after she nodded, satisfied that she was able to finally get through their thick skulls. But just as before any of them could make any movement a knock was heard at the door. 
Clint was by the door which was still open when Wanda first entered. “Uhm... I hope I’m not interrupting something important – but Fury’s got an incoming mission, and it seems pretty important... so everyone is being called.’’ Wanda looked back at Clint with a deadly stare, she did not just spend all that time convincing both widow sisters to go to sleep only then for an incoming mission to happen, where they definitely would want to go. Clint was so scared and only thinking of the most common thing to do when Wanda was mad, was to run away quickly – and so he bolted away from the room only screaming to go to the conference room in a few minutes.  
Wanda looked back at the sisters, ready to tell them to go straight to bed but Yelena beat her to it “Let us go to the meeting, Barton did not say there was a mission, so it is fine. Let’s go sestra(sister).’’ She waves Wanda a goodbye before leaving the room. It was only Natasha and Wanda that was left at the room again, Wanda was about to speak again but was quickly shot down again by Natasha “Yelena is right, it's just an incoming mission which is technically not a mission. So c’mon, we better not be late.’’ Natasha then starts to walk out of the room, Wanda grumbled something under her breath before following behind her.
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All the Avengers were seated around the table of the conference room, even including Peter. They were all waiting on Fury to come and discuss the incoming mission they were going to have. A few minutes later, Fury entered the room with Maria. Just as he entered everybody could suddenly sense the change of atmosphere around the room. Fury coughed clearing his throat “As I told you already, we have an incoming mission that needs all the Avengers present.’’ He looks back to Maria and nods at her direction, to which Maria displays in the middle of the table a rectangular hologram with various pieces of information.  
On one side of the table, Kate was basically shaking in excitement, seeing as this is her first ever Avenger meeting and mission (she hopes to be assigned too). Yelena, already knowing what’s going on, places a hand on Kate’s knee gaining her attention, Yelena then shakes her head gently, silently telling her to calm down. To which she nods in understanding, but her legs continue to bounce.  
They’re attention was quickly placed back to Fury, “Only a few of you would be assigned for this mission but I need all of you to be aware of the situation,” He glances around the room before continuing “Hydra is back up again and we have no idea what they’re up to. We have footage of what we can see is a Hydra operative. Breaking in abandoned warehouses and buildings that we suspect to be old Hydra bases.” He motions to the Hologram to show various blurry photos of what appears to be a person in a black tight suit (which Natasha and Yelena noticed was similar to the red rooms) and mask that covers the bottom part of their face.  
Everyone’s faces contorted in anger and frustration, just when they thought they’ve dealt with Hydra they come back with another soldier under their control.  
 “They’re breaking into Hydra bases, for what exactly?” Tony asked. “I’ve sent highly trained agents into one of those bases they’ve already broken into and did a quick search to know what they stole and to find out what they’re planning,” Fury looked down and sighed. Tony was getting impatient and asked again but his voice was laced with annoyance. “So...What happened to those agents? What did they find out? C’mon Furry, we don’t have all day.” He puts one leg over the other and crosses his arms. 
Fury then displays a series of photos that was taken when the agents first infiltrated. The Avengers looked at each photo and they could see that in the building was a lab with a big glass tube in the middle, but what scared them was that it was broken and empty, there were glass shards littered around the floor and old water marks surrounding it.  
“What happened to the agents you sent there, Fury?” Steve hesitantly asked, something wasn’t feeling right, he could tell.  
“There were... complications during the mission,” He pauses looking at everyone “Not everyone made it out.” He simply states.  
They were all stunned and confused. What could have killed those agents? What was inside the tube? Was it a soldier that killed them or the thing that came out of the tube? All their minds racing with questions.  
“We don’t know what was in the tube, nobody could find information about it. The base was wiped clean with any documents or files, but we do know that it was their super soldier who killed those agents.” He hunched over the table, placing both of hands on it.  
“This is your mission Avengers. Find that Hydra operative and take them down.” he stands straight before walking out of the conference room.  
Silence was placed over the room. All of them taking in the information and some already thinking of a plan to take down (and capture) the Hydra soldier. They had to act quickly before Hydra could do anymore damage and harm. They just can't believe it; all those agents were all killed by a single person, all (probably) highly trained agents.  
Steve was the first to take initiative “We have to stop Hydra!” He raises from his chair reaching out for the file on the table. “Bucky and I will take the lead and infiltrate the base along with Clint and Kate as our look out. Tony-” He looked in the direction of where Tony was seated. “You and Bruce will try and figure out where they’ll strike next.” His face was stern, and his voice was serious.  
“Don’t worry capsicle, we’ll find our target and capture their ass, then we could celebrate another success for the Avengers!” Tony remarks while clasping his hands together.  
“Hold on a minute! What about Yelena and me? We should be on this mission too. You’ll need more than just you and Bucky, no-offense but I don’t think the two of you are enough to beat this person.” Natasha angrily spoke, crossing her arms over her chest.  
“Natasha, you and Yelena are not fit to join this mission. Once Tony finds the base, we’ll head out as soon as possible. You and Yelena need rest, you both will be liabilities in this mission if you're not focused. Wanda will be here to watch you both.” Steve explains carefully to try and not aggravate the Widow sisters.  
Everybody watches as the two sisters think it through, and soon enough they both relented and nod in understanding. “Don’t worry widowers, we got this.” Tony smiles smugly to himself.  
“Good. Does everybody agree with this plan?” Peter raises his hand. “Yes Peter? Do you have any questions?”  
“Uhm... Mr. Rogers sir? What about me, can’t I help with anything for this?” Peter asked, he wanted to help them as best as he could. If this soldier is a threat, then he should be able to help them in any way he can.  
“I’m sorry Peter but this mission is too dangerous for you, and you can seriously get hurt or even worse — Hydra is tricky and smart, and if not careful enough. There will be dire consequences for those mistakes.” Steve softly replies.  
“But- Mr. Stark?” Peter looks to his direction as if asking for help. “Sorry kiddo but I'm with the Captain on this one, I’m not willing to listen to your aunt screaming at me again. But don’t worry, you can help Bruce and I in the lab, if that makes you feel better.” Peter sighs and nods in understanding.  
“That’s it for this meeting. Bucky meet me in the training room, so we can start discussing a plan. Everyone else get some rest.” Soon enough, everyone begins to stand up and leave the room.  
Maria begins to walk out of the room but stops abruptly in-front of Natasha “Don't worry Nat, I’ll meet you in our room in a few minutes. I’ll just finish these reports.” She kissed Natasha on the cheek before walking out. “-cough-soft-cough-'' Yelena comments on the sideline but receives an upward slap on the head by Kate “ow!” She gasps out and Kate playfully rolls her eyes and walks out with Yelena following.  
Natasha was the last to leave the room and headed out to get to her room.
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“Bist du bereit, Soldat?(Are you ready soldier?)'' A man wearing a white lab coat said in a gruff voice, looking straight ahead at the girl in front of him. 
“Bereit, Sir zu erfüllen(Ready to comply, Sir)” the girl, not looking more than 20-years of age, stood at attention with her hands behind her back. The man grinned wickedly walking to look back behind him where a photographic picture of the Avengers was being displayed on a big computer screen, “Get ready or not Avengers, Hydra has come back to play.”
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artsywriter25 · 3 months
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Let’s talk about the Kung Fu Panda 4 Trailer 
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Okay, we finally got the trailer after waiting for so many months! 
First things first, my reaction to the trailer. I thought it was decent, I didn’t react too much but that doesn’t mean I didn’t like it. I couldn’t stop smiling seeing Po again, I was expecting to see more but this is just a tease. There probably is more that they can’t show us just yet. I watched this trailer multiple times. I’m gonna go on and talk about the things I like and things that I didn’t like. 
=
The Pros: 
- The animation looks great as always. I was hoping they add in the hybrid animation but the one they’re using is still amazing. 
- Po is now using his jade staff to make combo moves which is awesome and I can't wait to see the creative battles. 
- I like Zhen so far and Aquafina’s voice fits her. I know people are saying her design looks weird but I think it looks fine, and I have liked Aquafina since seeing The Farewell. 
- The Chameleon looks beautiful! If you pause during her transformations she actually looks scary. DreamWorks made a frecking chameleon scary, how do they do that?!
- I like how they kept the animals at their accurate heights like it took me the fifth watch to realize how small Chameleon was compared to Tai Lung yet she took him down easily. 
-Speaking of Tai Lung, he is so back! The fact that he is on the poster could be hinting at a possible redemption arc so for those die-hard Tai Lung fans out there, I’m happy for you. 
-I’m also happy they even got Ke Huy Quan to join the cast. I grew up watching The Goonies and after seeing him in Everything Everywhere all at once, I said that he should be in a KFP film and I’m glad he is.
The Cons:
- The jokes are okay, the only one that made me laugh was Po choking on the flower petals. I hate fart jokes, I know that’s what made DreamWorks famous like Sherk but it doesn’t fit well with KFP. Hopefully that’s the only one and there are not too many gross jokes. 
- I like we’re getting new characters but I’m afraid they won’t be complex characters with arcs of their own but just there as comic relief. 
- I’m already annoyed by those crazy rabbits. 
- Tai Lung cannot catch a break. First, his chi was taken from Kai and now the Chameleon took his chi, I hope he doesn’t end up as a punching bag for the rest of the film. 
-I noticed there is a lack of a color theme, I had always theorized it would be purple but I keep seeing gold, green, and white. That’s not a good sign.
- Okay this is just my nick-pick but I was shocked to find out they got Viola Davis voicing the villain. I like her in some movies but she gives me this impression of those actresses with big egos. Honestly, her voice is nice but I need a full clip of her to get a full impression. 
- Lastly, there is no Furious Five. I saw how the fandom is freaking out about this, but I think they are in the movie, just not for long. While I’m sad we don’t see them, the reality is there really is no other purpose for them but to help Po. I still think they may show up at the end for the final battle. I don’t know what the actors are doing right now, but Seth Rogan came out with his movie this year, TMNT: Mutant Mayhem, so he’s probably busy writing the sequel. As for Tigress, I won’t be surprised if she doesn’t have speaking lines because Angelia Jolie is too busy dealing with her personal issues and her divorce right now. 
=
Okay I got the pros and cons out of the way, now I want to talk about what I think may happen in KFP4. There are some things I’ve noticed in the trailer and I have too many theories and so many questions running in my head and I need to write it out. 
So Po’s Jade staff is definitely going play an important role in the story, it seem to have a connection to both the living world and the spiritual world. My guess is the Chameleon wants the staff for a higher purpose of her plan or she needs it to travel to the spirit world herself. We can see her summoning spirits over to the living world, capturing them, and literally eating their chi away. Chi is what helps the spirits stay in living world but Tai Lung’s chi was taken and we don’t know how this will affect him. He may be stuck there until he can get his chi back. 
I noticed in one shot of the trailer there are these strange boxes in the room where Tai Lung was fighting and I realized those are cages. The Chameleon is probably planning on keeping the villains as prisoners to take more chi from them. Knowing Po, he’s going to see this as wrong and wants to save the villains. I know it’s a stretch but I think it could happen. It would be so cool seeing Po, Tai Lung, Shen and Kai working together to take down the Chameleon.
But the question is what is her motive in all this? Why does she say to Po ‘we are not so different you and I’? If she is a powerful sorcerer then why does she need his staff? They better not say that she was never taken seriously enough, there’s gotta be more to it.
And there is Zhen, who I want to know the most. I’m sure they would show some flashbacks to her story and show why she became a criminal. For some reason, I keep thinking she maybe leading Po to a trap, which I hope that’s not the case, but she seems to know more than she lets on. Po didn’t know who the Chameleon was until Zhen explained to him and she knows where she lives. I hope she doesn’t end up being a backstabber because this character is supposed to be the next Dragon Warrior, it would be hard to forgive her if they went that route. 
But these are just my theories and questions that I have. There’s really nothing else to say other than despite my cons, I’m still hyped to see this film and praying to god this will be still good. They may put up another trailer later on, if it’s good enough I’ll write my reaction to it too.
But tell me what you guys think? 
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A Need For Defensive Weapons Part 2
Chapter One
Chapter Two:
“So,” Jazz says when Danny manages to tell her what happened later that evening.  “So tell them.”
Danny stares at her.  “Now?  Are you crazy?”
“Are you?  It seems like the obvious and only way to fix this is to tell them both what was going on,” Jazz says.
“Yeah, and that’ll go swimmingly,” Danny says.  “‘Hey Sam, you know that ghost that tried to kill you?  Well guess what!’”
“Except you didn’t try to kill her,” Jazz says, crossing her arms.
“Which I have no way of proving!  The crystal ball is in pieces, remember?  Besides, I… don’t know if she’d hear me out.  She still seemed really scared and angry.”
“Danny, she trusts you,” Jazz says.  “I’m sure she’ll hear you out if you try and explain it to her.”
“Or she’ll immediately leave in anger or fear and tell Mom and Dad in revenge who will then dissect me molecule by molecule,” Danny says.
“Danny.”
“I’m not saying I don’t want to tell her,” Danny says, holding his hands up.  “I’m saying not right now.  After things calm down.  And I can shift my public image a bit away from ‘horrible hypocritical villain.’”
Jazz gives him an uncertain look.  “I don’t know, Danny,” she says.  “I’m not sure putting it off longer will help matters.”
“Well I am,” Danny says, trying to convince them both.  “I don’t want to give her more to figure out right now.  I’d rather try and get things back to normal first.”
“Did you like normal?” Jazz says hesitantly.
“You bet,” Danny says.  “Sneaking around and hiding my identity from everyone important to me was the best.  I can’t wait to do it again.”
Jazz sighs and shakes her head, but doesn’t say anything.
“Look,” Danny says.  “I want to tell her.  Really.  Just not right now.  I want her to know that she can trust me, all of me.  Let me prove it to her as Phantom first.”
Jazz looks at him for a minute.  “I wouldn’t ever tell anyone without your permission, Danny,” she says.
Danny breathes a relieved sigh.  “Thank you.”
Jazz doesn’t say anything else, and then their mom calls them for dinner and they both go downstairs.
Danny does feel ready to deal with the idea, after some sleep and a bit of time to come up with a plan.  He can do this.  He was always going to have to prove himself to Amity Park eventually.  He’d kind of expected to have Sam and Tucker at his back when he did, but no big deal.  He has Jazz instead, and she’s actually really good at this kind of thing.
Unfortunately, no one will actually stop and listen to him speak long enough for explaining his side to be an option.  They’ll have to settle for displays of character.  So they start planning ways to minimize things like destruction of property or collateral damage, while of course still putting protecting living people and animals above that.  But it’s definitely possible to make some headway if they strategize some— hopefully enough to get to the point of someone actually being willing to hear him out.  (Maybe if they’re really lucky, that someone is Sam.)
Jazz spends a couple days looking through Danny’s ghost files with him, and then comes up with some thoroughly impressive analysis that makes Danny regret not telling her sooner.
“Okay,” Jazz says, from her spot sitting in his desk chair, with Danny leaning over her shoulder.  “So different ghosts have different styles you’ll have to work around in order to avoid damage.  Skulker uses all of the blasters and guns that are part of his suit, so upping your shield use instead of blasting back is a good first step.”  She scrolls down.
“Technus uses objects to enhance himself a lot of the time, making avoiding property damage a little harder, but if we can find a way to disable the objects or dismantle them without destroying them, that would be a good start,” she says.  “I don’t imagine that one will be easy, but we can work at it.
“Spectra does a lot of emotional attacks, and seems to be weaker if she can’t get to someone, so you should invest in some earplugs.”
“The actual plan is to stick my fingers in my ears and go ‘la la la I’m not listening?’” Danny asks, raising an eyebrow as he looks down at Jazz.
“Just for long enough until I can show up with the thermos,” Jazz says, turning to face him from the desk chair.  “Which is the key to a lot of these, actually.  That or you can start bringing a thermos around more often.  Probably both are good ideas, actually.”  She turns back again and scrolls further down the files.
“We still don’t know much about Freakshow, but he shouldn’t be showing up again now that his crystal ball is broken and he’s stuck in prison,” she says.
“Good riddance,” Danny mutters despite himself, and Jazz pauses to look at him for a moment.  Thankfully she seems to see on his face that he doesn’t want to talk about it, and moves on.
“There are a lot of ghosts that you don’t see quite as often, like the Fright Knight or Desiree,” she says.  “So I’m gonna work on those a little more as we go on.  We also don’t have quite as many examples of their fighting styles, so it’ll take a bit longer.  And then there’s like, you know, the Box Ghost.”
“And who cares about him,” Danny agrees with a nod.  He glances at Jazz a second later with a curious look.  “What are we going to do about Vlad?”
“We’re going to hope he doesn’t bother us!” Jazz says with a faux-brightness in her voice and a weak smile.
“What?  Jazz.”
“It’s not— okay look,” Jazz says with a sigh, pulling up Vlad’s file.  “Vlad’s way more experienced than either of us.  He’s been doing this since before Mom and Dad got married.  He thinks things through way in advance.  If he decides to make you look bad, it’s… probably gonna work.”
“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, Jazz,” Danny deadpans.
“I’m not saying we won’t try something!” Jazz exclaims, holding her hands up.  “I just don’t think there’s much point to planning stuff in advance.  We can’t know what he’s thinking.  Our best option is probably to be unpredictable.”
Danny sighs.  “Yeah, that’s probably fair,” he says.  He glances back at the screen for a second before turning back to Jazz.  “Okay, unless you’ve got other stuff, I’m ready to be done with ghosts tonight,” he said.  “I’m gonna call Sam and Tucker and see if they want to play video games.”
“Sounds like fun,” Jazz says with a smile, standing from the chair.  “I’ll leave you to it then.”
Danny takes a seat in the chair as she heads for the door, and is about to pull up Doomed to see if Tucker and Sam are online when Jazz calls, “Oh, and Danny?”
Danny turns around and finds Jazz giving him a pointed look.
“What happened with Sam isn’t your fault,” she says.  “You know that, right?”
Danny swallows.  “Yeah.”
“Promise?”
Danny doesn’t say anything, which apparently is enough of an answer.
Jazz sighs.  “Okay,” she says.  “Expect some reminders then.”
“Jazz—”
“Sorry I can’t hear you, I’m too busy leaving your bedroom so you can hang out with your best friends that you have never willingly hurt,” Jazz calls, though not loud enough for their parents to hear.
Danny rolls his eyes fondly as Jazz leaves, then turns back to the computer and boots up Doomed.  He needs to get ghost stuff out of his mind tonight.
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janiceisbored-blog · 11 months
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It was good while it lasted
Continuation of Enchanted. I'm hoping to make a few more of this. Hopefully, I could commit and finish them. I just had to get this out as a sequel!! Let me know if you liked this one.
CollegeStudent!Mark Lee x OC (placed as blank).
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It’s not like you were avoiding Mark, you just saw him less and less as the days fly by. The two of you used to have lunch with your other classmates but as the last day in university is fast approaching, you find yourself eating alone in one of the outdoor benches in the university park. It really didn’t bother you that you were eating alone, you’ve done this before, it’s just you were missing Mark a little bit more than usual. Sure you see him in class, you still sat together, you still exchange silly jokes, you two still talk to each other, the dynamic didn’t change. He was just hanging out with you less outside the classes. And it’s not like you were asking him 24/7 to hangout with you. “You don’t have the right to do that.” You sighed to yourself. Out of respect for Mark and Grace, you stepped back, texted less, asked for hangouts less, even minimized the usual “platonic skinships” the both of you had. You’re wondering to yourself if it’s only you who noticed, but Mark didn’t seem to mind the distance. The cool breeze snapped you out of your trance and you looked at your phone
(1) Notification
“I’m having lunch with Grace and then drive her home. Do you want to hang out, ___?” – Mark
“Do I look like a side chick to you?” You mumbled at yourself as you dust off the crumbs off your clothes. How could he ask things like this? How is he still expecting you to say yes to his hangout requests after having a girlfriend of his own.
“No, I kinda want to take a nap at my dorm tho. You kids have fun~”
SENT
You put your phone back into your pocket, hoping that he takes your no for an answer. You do not really want to hang out with him as if you were an afterthought. It used to be the two of you against the world, playing videogames together or just lounging in each other’s dorm room. But after what happened to Chenle’s party, you don’t even try to have more lazy day hangouts with him. The last time you both did, Mark was sat in his computer chair, toying with his guitar and you were just either doom scrolling on your phone, but this one time he caught you staring outside his dorm window next to his bed. “What you thinking?” Mark asked while he was plucking chords in his guitar. “Nothing.” You looked at him over your shoulder and looked down on your phone that is now charging in his bedside table. “Nah, you’re always thinking of something.” You felt his bed dip as he sat next to you “Come on, let me in.” Your arms touching each other, and you try your best not to choke on your words or stop tears forming from your eyes. He did appear a little bit concerned now as he waits for you to say something. “I miss Aeongie.” You lied and smiled at him. Aeongie was the cat the two of you fostered not too long ago. Of course you miss the little guy, but just this one time you used him as an excuse to avoid Mark’s question. You hugged one of his pillows next to you as you bring your knees and legs closer to your body. “Ah the little guy. I miss him too. But the couple that adopted him seems to know what they’re doing. I’m sure he’s fine.” He's now laying down next to you in his bed, legs dangling on the edge. “What do you think about Grace?” He tilted his head to meet your gaze. “Oh, her. Grace? Yeah, I think she’s cool.” Your posture stiffens and you put the pillow down to your lap. “I mean, she checks all the points you want in a girl, right? Oh and she’s in the volleyball team, so I’m sure she’s fit and what not.” Your voice was a little bit nervous, you just prayed that he doesn’t notice. “Yeah she’s super pretty, right?” he shot another look at you, as if waiting for a reaction, you just nodded in response. “You like her? You know, for me?” You looked back at him, your eyes getting heavy with every blink you take, fighting the urge to cry in front of him. “Mark, of course I like her for you! What kind of question is that?” You playfully slapped his shoulders, trying to fight the emotions that are now taking over your whole body. “Good. I want to take her seriously. No more flings, no more random girls for one night stands. I feel like she’s really endgame material. I just don’t want to fuck it up, you know?” Each word that left Mark’s lips were making your heart swell. If you could just gather your feelings in one coherent sentence, you would, but you can’t. You can’t just pour your entire heart out to Mark. He’s not just looking for hookups anymore, he’s looking like he wants something serious and committed, and he found that with Grace. How could you deny him something that makes him happy? “Yeah, go for it lover boy.” That’s all you had to say to him as you distract yourself with your phone. Mark seems to be satisfied with your answer as he did not ask more follow up questions. He sat up and grabbed his phone from his sweatpants. You sneaked up a glance to him, he seems to be texting Grace now, the way he beams up with each notification sounds coming from his phone. You just looked away and fixated your attention back to his window as you get a whiff of his cologne when you squeeze his pillow firmly to your body. What else were you supposed to say?
---
The walk back to your dorm room was a long one. You hated yourself for eating your lunch from the other side of the campus, your feet sore from all the walking you just did. As you plop your body on your bed, your phone rang it’s notification tone a couple of times.
(4) Notifications
“Are you ordering delivery? I’m bringing chicken wings.” – Mark
“I want to play videogames or maybe watch a movie! I’m coming over.” – Mark
“I’ll be there at 6!” – Mark
“Grace is having girls’ night with her friends. Jeno is busy with reviewing for his finals soooo I’m coming over!” – Mark
You really didn’t want to reply. The thought of you being his hangout plan B is really irritating to you. As much as you wanted to hangout like the two of you used to do, you know you can’t and it’s hurting you that he’s not even trying to maintain his distance away from you. You don’t plan on replying, to him, you don’t even mind that you’re leaving him on read. A small tear leaves your eye, and you wipe it away before it becomes a full sob. Changing into something more comfortable as you get ready for another nap. You don’t really care if he comes to your dorm, maybe he’ll take it as a hint that you don’t want to hangout if he sees you sleeping and leave you alone. It is already 3pm and all you wanted to do is take a nap.
“___, wake up. I brought chicken.” You heard a voice next to your ear and your eyes shot open, pulling the covers close to your face. “Mark! What the hell are you doing here?” obviously startled, you see him chuckle and settle the paper bag down to your desk. “I was sleeping!! Couldn’t you knock?” you sat up on your bed, still looking around your surroundings and back to yourself to see if you were decent. Good thing you’re wearing a hoodie this time.
“Hey I texted you! Besides your roommate was just about to leave when I got here. So, I definitely knocked.” He started pulling out the food containers out of the paper bag he just brought. “You left me on read, you know?” he sat next to you, with the food container in his other hand, offering you what it seems to look like chicken wings. You pulled the blanket off of your body and sat next to him, grabbing a piece of chicken from the container. “Yeah sorry, I was really tired today.” You said while yawning. “I walked from the other side of the campus back here. Some of us here don’t have a car.” You continued. Mark just laughed at your expression, he’s still his usual giddy and cheerful self. You plan to continue more and say that you were sorry that he got stood up by his girlfriend, but you don’t even try to mention it and you just want to enjoy the spontaneous time he fixed for the both of you. “Well next time, you should just let me know so I can drive you back here.”
“Yeah, Mark you could definitely do that for me.” Your thoughts were at it again. You brush it off as you fix the small flat screen TV you and your roommate shared for when you had movie nights with other people. Mark on the other hand was looking for movies to watch or series to binge. When he finally did, he handed you your laptop to be connected to the TV screen. You turn off the lights, only the light from the projector illuminating the room. You and Mark sat on your bed, your back against the headboard and his back against the wall next to your bed. You hoped that Mark doesn’t notice that you were keeping distance from him. His eyes were fixated on the screen as he seems to be fully engrossed with the film he selected for the two of you to watch. The butterflies in your stomach are restless and the way he looked tonight seems to fuel them more. His hair was a little bit messy, his side profile was highlighted by the TV light, and the way he looks with his glasses on just drives you wild. You don’t know how he does it, but he seems to pull you in deeper with how he looked tonight. Mark was just there and the vibe right now seems to be right, if you could just grab him, give him a kiss and call it a night, you would. But you’re scared. You don’t want him to leave or jeopardize your friendship. You’ve been meaning to move on from him ever since he announced his relationship with Grace. You even installed dating apps in desperation on finding someone who can give you sparks. But none of the matches were even clicking. They’re either down for a quick fuck or just plain weirdos. You don’t even know what you want, you just wanted to move on.
“Hey sorry for waking you up. If I knew you were that tired, I wouldn’t even have gone here. I just got nothing to do tonight when Grace brought up that they’re having girls night.” He said while his gaze is still fixated on the screen.
“Oh yeah. No worries. I got nothing to eat as well so good thing you came over with chicken. I was about to make myself ramen if you didn’t come.” You laughed at the thought of having another ramen for the 4th consecutive night now.
“That’s not healthy! If it weren’t for me you would be eating another pack of ramen.” His chuckle was like melody to your ears. He has always been bubbly around you and you were upset with the fact that you’re going to be seeing his bubbly self around you less. “But the chicken is good though?” Mark asked as he smiled at you.
The movie ended after what seems to be forever. The ending was just bad and you let Mark know how his movie taste sucked as you stretched your arms and legs.
“I didn’t know it would be THAT bad! I swear.” He laughed as he clean the food crumbs off of his shirt. “But take a look at this though.” He handed you his phone and you saw a picture of you staring intently at the TV screen, your hoodie covering your head, but showing enough your illuminated facial features. “Tsk, so serious as always.” Mark chuckled as he type something in his phone
DING!
1 Notification
Onyourm__ark tagged you in a story! See now.
You looked at your phone and saw the notification. He posted a story of the photo he just showed you with the text “Chicken and this dork. @____”. You’re definitely confused. Does he know? Is he doing it to you on purpose? Your mind cannot wrap around the fact that he’s doing this. What if his girlfriend sees this and comes for your jugular the next day? You don’t want to dig yourself a deeper hole, but everything Mark is doing right now is completely giving you mixed signals. Your phone rings again, this time it was from Haechan.
2 Notifications
“I saw his story, ____.” – Haechan
“You okay? Is he there with you? Are you going to tell him?” – Haechan.
“Who’s that? You got a date?” Mark tried to peek at your phone screen but you just swiped your phone closer to you hoping he didn’t see what or who was it about.
“Just Haechan. He texted me.” You said nonchalantly.
“Ew. Are you guys like… Dating?” Mark scrunched his face is disbelief, disgusted at the thought.
“Also, ew. He’s just asking if I returned the extra controller that I borrowed from him the other day.” You punched his arm playfully and he ended laughing at the thought of the thought of you dating Haechan.
“Damn, if I didn’t know that you had a thing with Hyuck.” He continued to tease and you just laughed it off.
You don’t really have anything to do with Haechan. But he figured out that you liked Mark from the time he made his announcement. After he saw you downing shot after shots when most of your friends left (including Mark and Grace) or passed out. Haechan tried to squeeze every bit of information out of you and he listened to you while you rant your heart out to him. Hell, you even ugly cried in front of him, confessing every heart wrenching feeling you had for Mark. He just looked at you with sorry eyes as you begged him to keep this as a secret between the two of you. Haechan was sitting next to you while he gently caress your back as you continue to pour out sobs.
“We’re not dating, okay? Can’t a girl borrow things from her friends?” You raised a brow to him. It’s true, all you and Haechan had was platonic. Your dynamic with Haechan was more like bickering siblings. Close, but not the same one you had with Mark.
“Yeah, but just don’t fuck around without me knowing! If you guys break up or something, I don’t want to pick sides. I can’t be a child of divorce.” He’s now lying back on your bed, completely laughing his ass off.
“Get out of here Mark!!” You said to him as you throw a pillow right to his face and laughed with him.
You seriously didn’t want the night to end. As if your old dynamic came back just tonight. With looping arguments and bickering, it feels like it’s just the two of you. No Grace, no final days, nothing in between. Once again, you found your comfort in Mark.
The two of you were in the middle of a conversation when Mark’s phone rang.
“Yeah, I can come pick you up. I’ll be there soon. You’re taking cutely when drunk. Yeah, I love you too.” Mark pocketed his phone back to his pocket.
Your heart sank when you heard him say “I love you” over the phone to his girlfriend. “Tsk, boyfriend duties?” you got up from your bed and started clearing up around your dorm as you anticipate him leaving.
“Yeah, she’s drunk. Also, it’s 1:15 AM. You should also get some rest. I completely lost track of time.” He said sheepishly as he watches you pickup the food wrappers scattered around the floor.
“It’s fine. Could you just take the trash on your way out. The disposal is on your left.” You said as you handed him the plastic bag.
He took the bag and settled it down the floor as he dives in for a hug. This took you by surprise and you froze on your spot as you register what is happening.
“Thanks, ____. I had fun today and I missed hanging out with you.” He said as he rested his chin on her head.
“Yeah, me too. I uhmm missed hanging out with you too.” You fought back the sobs that are forming on your eyes and You wrapped your arms around him. “Now go to your girlfriend. Her knight in shining armor awaits.” You opened the door for him and handed him the trash bag.
“Take care, Mark!” you grinned at him as you walk him to the door.
“You too.” He smiled back as you saw his silhouette take a turn in the next corner.
You can’t help but sob behind your door. That’s all that you can do now.
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WIP Middas
Thank you @skyrim-forever for the tag! I spent most of my creative juices this week on the first chapter of my 3rd era au (shameless plug sorry it just hasn’t gotten any reads yet) but I did get randomly compelled to write some of a post-game Tilia and Lae’zel AU for I’m not sure what reasons. So here’s that! Big BG3 spoilers relating to Lae’zel’s personal quest.
Tagging @thequeenofthewinter @umbracirrus and @throughtrialbyfire
“Who’s the devil child?” he asked in Githyanki. Tilia would pout about that description, but there were no other words for tieflings in our language.
“Her name is Tilia.” I gave my response in Gith’s tongue, too. Upon hearing her own name, Tilia looked up. “She doesn’t speak Githyanki. You will address her in the common tongue or in Draconic.”
He scoffed, but I held his gaze. “Fine.” He scanned Tilia again. “You speak Draconic, istik?”
She broke into her usual sincere smile. Chk. Should have coached her against that. “I do! My name is Tilia of Tragedy.” She shot me a joking side-eye, probably for not having given her full name.
He rolled his eyes and turned around. “Follow.” He repeated it in Githyanki for the other soldiers around us, who complied. I held a hand in front of Tilia’s chest, waiting until everyone was a few steps ahead to whisper to her in Common. She opened her mouth before I did.
“Does he not speak Common?”
“No. All githyanki do.” She looked confused at that. “He intends to test whether or not you truly know the language.”
“Does he know I speak it instinctively?” she asked.
“Likely.” I checked to make sure we were out of sight of the other gith, then grabbed Tilia’s chin to kiss her. She giggled and gently ran a scaled wrist across my forehead, placing her other hand on my chest as if to try to find a heartbeat through the armor.
“Are you nervous at all, Lae’zel?” It was a question she clearly knew the answer to.
“No. I have earned my place in this council,” I responded. Both of her arms were now around my neck, placing her chest close to mine.
“And me?”
I let my hand glide over the scales on her cheeks. “Are half of why the Prince of the Comet is free. Now come. We are falling behind.” I broke out of the embrace. The gap between us and the others was sizable, so my pace had to be quick to try to close it.
Tilia seemed to run out of breath after a few
minutes and eventually resorted to flying to keep up. I noticed a few of the other githyanki shooting her looks, but I wasn’t sure of the emotion behind them. There was likely to be some distrust of her devilish appearance here, but none that she couldn’t counter. Tilia was nothing if not persistent.
When we eventually caught up, I scanned the unit and our surroundings. There were six soldiers, plus the kith’rak, all of whom appeared to be carrying both crossbows and various melee weapons. The meeting hall we were heading towards was visible, but still distant, and the terrain seemed otherwise empty. Tilia tapped me on the shoulder.
“This is a lot of people for an escort, isn’t it?” She sounded nervous.
“The creatures of the Astral Plane often prove to be fearsome foes. We typically travel in large groups.” 
She was still anxiously tapping her staff against her hand. “We’re just sure they’re not here for… us?”
“Are you expressing distrust in my people?”
She seemed to consider. “No. I think I’m just nervous.”I tried to think of a way to reassure her that wouldn’t outwardly portray any romantic intent; eventually I settled on gently patting her between the wings. She smiled. “I’ll be good to see Orpheus again,” she said.
“Prince Orpheus,” I corrected.
“Prince Orpheus. Hopefully he’s not still mad at me. He seemed to cool off after we actually took down the brain, though.” I snorted. I was sure Tilia would get the prince to enjoy her company- it was her strongest skill. And any battle alongside her would quickly make him respect her capabilities. I realized it was strange for me to consider those two different things.
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skyfallslayer · 1 year
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The Daughter of The (Dare)Devil - Story 9 (Part 3)
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Series Masterlist
Series Summary: A Series of stories revolving around the MCU timeline of Matt Murdock and his Daughter, Kaila. Being the child of a vigilante can be hard and scary at times, but it doesn’t mean she ain’t going to enjoy the most of it.
(Can be read as Y/N if you’d like)
Story Summary: Part 3 - Matt, Karen and Foggy scramble to find out who their “official” first client was in an attempt to find their missing teenager; Meanwhile, Kaila finally sees what her father sees in her darkest time in Hell’s Kitchen, making her question everything she believed in (Set shortly after 2x03). 
Date: 4/5
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 13,243 (Super Long, Ya'll)
Warning: Possible OOC (?); Karedevil; The Murdocks Are Stubborn People; Talks of Child Neglect; Attempted Murder; Allusion To Murder; Brief Allusion To Rape; Major Blood; Self Blaming; Heavy Guilt; Non Consensual Touching; Heavy Angst; Heavy Language; Crying; Mental Break (Down (?); Karen and Foggy Are The MVPs Here Again (Frank & Brett Are Added To That List); Possible Identity Reveal (?); Kidnapping; Allusions To Mental Illness; Bullet Wound; Child Abuse; The Murdocks Could Use All The Hugs In The World; I'm Going To Hell By Putting The Adults/Kaila Through The Wringer; Fluffy Ending (?). READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!
- Let me know if I missed anything, please.
A/N: Yeah... still going to hell for this. But I swear their lives will get better maybe. Anyway, sorry for the wait, I had writer's block halfway. Hopefully this is to ya'll's expectations. As always, enjoy!
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“Kaila.” He said, smiling. “Kaila… Jackie Murdock.”
.
.
“What a lovely name.”
.
.
“Kaila Murdock.” Fisk tests it out. “You’ve got a lot… history in a name like that.”
.
.
She said with a little smile. “I’m assuming you’re Matt’s daughter?”
.
.
“And when you have no tears left to shed, then…” He sends another glare that sends a shiver down her spine. “Then we’ll come for you, Miss Murdock.”
.
.
She opened her tired eyes slowly, her spinning world coming to an abrupt stop. 
The teenager finds herself standing in a dark abyss, making her drugged induced self suddenly more aware of her surroundings. She finds herself looking around in a worried state of confusion. She saw and heard nothing in the void. It was just her in this room that didn’t seem like reality.
She tries to recall what happened last but is met with a splitting headache. She winces at the pain with her eyes growing shut, craning her neck down and gritting through her teeth.
Jesus. What… what happened? She fights herself to pry open those chocolate orbs with the blown out pupils, finding herself staring at her attire. She had on what looked like a blouse and a pencil skirt, something she didn’t even possibly remember owning. 
She frowns as that sets in before she starts to notice something else different. The hair on her head felt lighter than ever, a sensation she doesn’t remember ever feeling. She wanted to touch her locks, but couldn’t. When she looked at the source that had bound her wrists together she couldn’t believe it. It was stringy and white, and sticky like glue. It was–
Spider webs? She brings her hands closer to examine, ignoring how the hairs over her body stood straight up.
.
“They’re all gone.”
.
She jolts in her stance, jerking her body around to behind. She swears she could see some kind of dust lingering in the open air, some even brushing by her like a taunt or a warning. Or…
Maybe it was both.
What in the hell…? 
“What are you doing?” A familiar voice asked, sending her spinning on her heels again.
She shouldn’t be surprised but she is; Especially when her friend looks older than before. Jayden was taller, more defined in her arms, his hair a bit longer in the face. She blinks again, and tries to say his name only that she couldn’t. It felt like someone had jammed something into her throat.
He looked just as panicked as she was feeling, and took a step closer with his hands up defensively. “You know I can’t help you right now. That’s why I told you to wait until I felt better.”
She tilts her head, scanning him over again. None of this made any sense whatsoever, especially when she saw tiny little sparks of fire resting on his fingertips. All she could do was stare as he seemed unbothered by it.
He sighs. “I should know better by now. You Murdocks sure are stubborn.” He said that with a small smile. “But you need to get out of here. You’re needed out there tonight.”
What? What is he talking about? She tries to speak his name again. Nothing.
“Here, Kai.” 
She felt him shove something into her suddenly freed hands, something that felt oddly like… 
She gasps.
My dad’s helmet? 
“Can’t forget that. You’ve been holding off for a while.” He said, a look of pride on his face as she shakes her head.
Jayden… what are you… what is he talking about? She felt him step closer, his face practically hovering above her.
“The devil of Hell’s Kitchen’s been gone long enough. These people need you. You got this.” 
She looks at him before looking down at the helmet, looking polished and brand new. It didn’t look like it was shot through with a bullet. Her brows pushed together, perplexed.
This is my dad’s helmet, but… it… it doesn’t feel like it. She clenches the sides, a shiver running up her spine again.
What is going on–
.
“Ah, you’re awake. Good.” A slimy hand roughly grabs her chin, forcing her to open her eyes. “We can have a chat about how your father and his partner ruined my life.”
.
Her breath hitched itself in her throat as she stared at her capturer. His creepy stare seemed more intense than before.
“Come on, little devil, show me what you got.” 
.
.
.
She awoke with a muffled scream. Out of instinct she tugged on her restraints, wiggling in her chair. The thick ropes dug into her skin, irritating it in a way she never felt before.
Fuck. Fuck. What the fuck is–
“So you’re finally awake.” 
She froze again.
The man was sitting in a foldout chair, he had a pocket knife out that he was using to cut a bright red apple. Kaila watches him smile towards her before moving his seat in front of her, retaking his spot.
“Sorry if you feel cold. I had to use your shirt to clean up your head.”
Kaila pinches her brows together, looking down at herself. Her band shirt was gone, laying somewhere in this warehouse covered in blood, which left her just in a bra. Her cheeks flushed as she started to grow self conscious, but the man didn’t seem to either not mind or care about the state she was in (emotionally and physically).
“You bleed a lot. Which is good. Means you’re healthy, and I need you to stay healthy.” He continues, and cuts up a huge slice, letting it fall onto the plate in his lap.
“Hungry?” He asked, reaching over and pulling the gag off, watching her stare in discomfort. He stabs one of the slices of apple and holds it close to her mouth. She continues to stare, making him tilt his head. “I know it’s a little weird, but I can’t let you starve, you know? Come on.”
She felt her heart about to burst out of her chest. The sickening feeling was brewing in her gut. But there was something heedfully telling her to just play along. She opens her mouth, allowing him to slide the apple slice in. She carefully crushes it between her teeth, slowly chewing it.
“Good, right? Gala’s were always my favorite.” He boasted with a chuckle. “You got a favorite?”
She shakes her head leisurely at… what should she call him? Baldy? Yeah, Baldy would work. She shakes her head at Baldy.
“No? That’s surprising. I won’t take it personally if that’s what you’re worried about.”
No, not exactly. She thought, watching him eat a slice himself, and gaze around the room full of metal shipping containers (she was assuming they were at the port). Strange.
He’s acting paranoid, but he certainly doesn't look it.
Baldy seemed to catch her wary gaze in the dim lighting, and locked in. “This too weird?” He said, with a dry chuckle. “Don’t be shy. You can speak freely.” That spine chilling grin returns. “I don’t bite.”
You sure look like you do. She holds her tongue at the spicy words. She starts spinning the wheels in her head, trying to figure out what she can and cannot (or should not) say.
I’ve got to do this carefully.
“W-Who are you?” Kaila manages to say, which makes him straighten up in seat, expression fading away.
“Me?” He asked, voice low and cold. “I’m the brother of one of Nelson and Murdock’s clients they failed.”
She tilts her head, puzzled. “Failed?”
Baldy hums. “You got that right, sweetheart.”
She swallows, and starts feeling a sense of déjà vu from this. “You’re… you’re going to have to be more specific. My Father and Uncle can’t exactly… help everyone.”
“That’s true, but–” He sighs. “They could have helped him.”
She furrows her brows. “And… who’s your brother?”
“He was their first official client.”
First official client? Now she was even more confused.
He said he had a brother, right? And Karen was their first client who had a brother. She starts remembering the story the blonde told her after the whole Wesley thing.
Yeah… Kevin. Yeah, that’s right. But he’s dead. This doesn't make–
“Not clicking with you, sweetheart?” Baldy asked, interrupting her thoughts. “It’s probably hard keeping track of all your Father’s clients. And that’s okay, I didn’t expect you to know who I’m talking about.”
She gives him an odd look again. “Then…” She pauses. “Why am I here?”
He shrugs. “Ransom. Bait. My… personal punching bag.” He laughs at how pale she got. “Don’t worry, I won’t do anything… too reckless. Unless, you give me any reason to do the opposite.” Another laugh. “It’s just the Boss’ orders.”
Boss? So this isn’t independent. He’s tied to someone. But who? All she could do was wonder as continues to lose color in her face.
“Awe, don’t be so scared. Besides, you’ll be fine. You’ll be fine as long as you behave. Mmm, okay?” He brushes some of her hair from her face. “But if you don't… I’ll have to listen to my Boss anyway. Trust me. You don’t want me to follow his instructions.”
She bites the inside of her cheek hard to keep herself from trembling at his words.
Oh, god… please let this be another dream.
•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°
Foggy dumped another box of files onto the table, tossing it aside before sitting down again.
“Okay.” He breathes, mentally preparing for another round. “There’s gotta be something in this one.”
He didn’t even acknowledge his two partners nodding before they all dug into it, their minds were all in overdrive trying to find something useful. Their bloodshots orbs scanned the pages, their small, worried panting brushed against the ink, turning the inky fragrance into coffee. And they were all dealing with the excess jittery energy in different ways. Like Foggy was lightly bouncing his left leg under the table, and Karen was gnawing at the fingernail on her thumb, while Matt was almost still like a statue, except for the occasional twitch in his lip or hands.
Silence carried on again and again, but just like with every box they shifted through, one of them would break the focus eventually. This time it was–
“This is going nowhere.” Matt said, dropping his half of the file that was transferred in braille. He didn’t care if the pages were slipping out of the yellowish folder, and scattered across the table. Organization was not on his mind.
Foggy frowns, concernedly. “Matt–”
“No, he’s right, Foggy.” Karen said, also dropping her half. “This is hopeless.”
Foggy looks between the two. “Guys–”
The blonde shakes her head, stopping him. “No. It’s going nowhere. We’ve been through ten boxes already. Nothing is matching up with the ransom note.”
This got him to sigh, and rub his face into his hands. “Okay…” He rests his palms in the back of his head. “Okay. What have we got so far?”
Matt clenches his jaw. “All we got is some guy claiming we… failed helping his brother. Who so happens to be our first client.” He explains, hearing him nod, taking it in. “However, from our knowledge, Karen was our first client.”
“Right.” Foggy said, and focused his gaze on the woman across from. “But you told us you don’t have a brother who could have done this.”
Karen nods. “Yeah. I-I had one, but he’s… passed.” She replies, getting teary eyed.
“And… you’re not aware of having any others? No half siblings or…?”
“No. My father’s… life, after my mother passed, he practically just lived in the diner we owned. Never really doing anything outside work.” She shrugs. “I mean, if he had other children somehow I would’ve known since I was with him all the time. And then I’ve lived here for about… three years now, so if he had a kid after I left he would be about that old.”
Foggy hums. “And I doubt a toddler could commit a kidnapping.” He scratches his chin. “But it has to be you. You were Matt and I’s first client.”
She shrugs again. “Then I don’t know what else to tell you…”
Matt lets out a sigh, standing up in a way that makes his chair scrap across the floor. “I need more coffee.” Was his reply, and grabbed his empty cup. He leaves the office for their kitchenette, ignoring the two pairs of eyes on him.
Once he left, Karen made a move. “Go talk to him.” She said, quietly.
“Me?” Foggy said, surprised. “I don’t know, maybe you should–”
“If I really am somehow connected to this, maybe I shouldn’t be talking to him.”
That made his heart break a little. “Karen–”
“Please.” She begs, her blue orbs glassing over.
Foggy stayed quiet, only replying with a small shake of his head. He stands up and leaves the room, faintly hearing her sobbing. He finds his partner bracing himself against the counter, the coffee pot and lights weren’t even on. Foggy didn’t even correct that, instead he just came and silently stood next to him.
It wasn’t until the clock on the microwave turned from 11:38 to 11:50 when he decided to crack the ice wall his friend was putting up.
“What’s going through your head?” Foggy asked, voice strained with all sorts of emotions he tried to hide. 
Matt inhales slowly, blind gaze still on the countertop. “Guilt.”
“It’s not your fault, man.”
“You don’t get it.”
“Then explain it to me.”
“I did.”
“Explain it to me more clearly then.” Foggy rephrases, watching him closely. “What happened?”
Matt finally looks in his direction, thinking. “After the… you know…” He lowers his voice. “You guys found me on the rooftop. After you left, That's when things got… tense between me and Kai. I-I just wasn’t thinking about hers, or yours, or Karen’s feelings. I was just… pissed that I got hurt. Pissed that I didn’t stop the Punisher.” He swallows. “I… the gunshot made me… lose my hearing.”
Foggy’s eyes widened immediately. “What? You went deaf?!” He said just as Matt shushed him quietly. He quickly winces and takes a look to make sure Karen didn’t hear that. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. Just… keep it down.”
“I will, but… you lost your hearing? What the fuck, man?”
“Only… only temporarily. I promise.” Matt reassures, truthfully. “Anyway, She, Kai, helped me but um… I was being stubborn as usual.”
“Shocker.”
“I know. Afterwards, I went to this guy who owed me a favor, said he’d fixed up the helmet and that’s when I got a text from her. It said it was an emergency, told me to get home quickly, so I did.” Matt sighs again and continues, “She… she lied to get me to come home. Begged me not to go out there to look for the Punisher. I told her it was my job to stop him, then that’s when everything went downhill.” He frowns. “She brought up an agreement we made after Fisk was put in jail.”
Foggy cocks his head, intrigued. “What agreement?”
“That she’ll help me balance my two lives. Which I… I didn't want to listen to it. And instead, I flipped it around on her.”
“How so?”
Matt's gaze flickered to their office, the one that Karen was in, pausing to hear if she was eavesdropping (She wasn’t from what he could tell). “Remember our argument after you found out my secret?” He asked, turning his attention back to him.
“How could I forget?” Foggy said, gloomily.
“Well, Kaila said she needed a break, so she decided to go stay at Karen’s for the night.” Matt replies, shifting his stance. “Remember when you went to find Kaila at her favorite coffee shop, did you notice anything… ‘off’ about her?”
Foggy ponders on that for a moment. “Actually… yeah. I did. She seemed down and in her head.”
Matt nods. “I noticed that, quickly for obvious reasons. When I asked what happened at Karen’s, she told me she’ll tell me when she’s ready. And… I respected her decision, and it became part of our agreement.”
“So… instead of listening, you try to turn it on her?”
“Yeah. I thought it should be a two way street. We went back and forth for a few minutes, eventually she accused me of the suit having a possession over me. I told her that the devil was a part of me, then she asked me if I was worried about not coming back to her. Then I…” He trails off.
“What?” Foggy asked, heart already aching before the answer. “What did you say?”
There was a small pause, and then– “I said, ‘Well maybe I wouldn’t have to worry if you weren’t here’.”
Foggy closes his eyes with a inhale. “Jesus, Matt…”
Matt swallows, throat closing up. “She told me she fucking hated me, Foggy.” He said, sounding so small and fragile.
Foggy sighs. “Matt, she didn’t mean that. Nor did you mean what you said.” 
“It doesn’t matter if I meant it or not, Foggy.” Matt says, looking down. “I thought she wanted space, so I gave her space. And the time she called for me was the first time I didn’t answer.”
“First off, she tried to call you, so it’s not like you ignored her call.”
“But–”
“And you were just respecting her wishes. What happened to her was not your fault.”
“But she’s my daughter, Foggy.”
“And we’re going to get her back.” Foggy touches both his shoulders. “I know it’s hard, but let's put this guilt aside and figure this out.” He lets a tiny smile on his lips. “And when this is officially over, we're temporarily closing up shop and going to Hawaii.”
That got Matt to chuckle a little. “Hawaii, huh?”
“Never been, and would love to go. We'll probably have to start a go-fund me to get the money, but we’ll make it work.”
“Yeah.” Matt’s face fell again. “Wait… you said ‘officially’?”
Foggy raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, I did. Why?”
Matt’s confidence started to come back at a realization. “Because I just remembered what the ransom note said. It says that we failed our ‘official’ first client.”
“Yeah… and…?” Foggy trails off, not following his partner’s lead.
“If it’s saying ‘official’ in the way I think it’s referring as, then…”
“Then…?”
.
.
.
“Then that means Karen isn’t our first client.”
•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°
Kaila silently watched him eat another apple by himself before leaning back in the chair, eyes glued to his phone. The volume was low, but she swears she can hear some kind of sports game playing. This causes her to pinch her brows together and get the gears in her brain to start turning once more.
None of this… this… 
Well…
Could she even call this a kidnapping? Could she tell herself over and over again that’s she being held for ransom? 
It sure didn’t feel like it. Sure, this guy was clearly unhinged to a certain degree, but he didn’t exactly (at least her in mind) scream kidnapper. I mean, her last one didn’t exactly fit the description either. James Welsey was just a right hand man with the best poker face on this side of the hudson. 
Maybe I’m just watching too many cop shows. 
But that’s besides the point. She was just waiting and waiting for something to happen. Like maybe he’ll start recording her for the news media to share, or maybe he’ll talk on the phone to negotiate with the cops. She didn’t expect him to feed her an apple and watch sports. 
This is really, really odd. But she can’t just sit here and keep guessing. Besides, he said that she was allowed to speak freely, and she might as well use this privilege to get some answers.
She swallows the heavy bile in her throat first. “So… a-are we just waiting for money to be brought?” She asked, carefully shredding the unclear water.
Baldy sighs. “No. No money. Boss didn’t want any.” He replies, still looking at his phone.
What? She blinks as her interests peak. He left a ransom note about her. How could he not want money?
“Then… w-why did you grab me if you’re not using me for money?” Kaila asked, confused.
Another sigh, but this time he looks up. “Look, sweetheart. I’m just following my instructions.”
“But you’re holding me hostage. What’s the point in you doing this if you aren’t going to get anything in return? Am I just some… some trophy at this point or–”
He suddenly kicks the chair he was sitting in over, the metal rattling against the concrete flooring, startling her. His nonchalant mood changes drastically as he strolls over. “Are you questioning my mission, sweetheart?”
She clenches her jaw. “You told me I could speak freely–”
“Are you–” He roughly grabs her chin, throwing her head forward. “Questioning my mission, sweetheart?”
She gulps down the urge to wince in pain as she keeps her confident gaze. “W-Who’s your Boss?”
He scoffs in disbelief. “Excuse me?”
“I said… who’s you’re fucking Boss? And what does he want with me?”
His lip twitched, and he found himself closing his eyes to take a deep breath. “I really wish…” He opens them. “I really wish you didn’t ask me that. I thought we had an understanding.”
Before she could say anything his whole palm covers her mouth, and he pushes her head back until it's against a crate, her chair tipping back along with her. 
What the fuck is he– Her thought died on her lips as she felt something cold against her thigh, followed by a small click and a loud bang. Pain ripped through her body as she let out an animalistic scream. Of course that sounded like she was underwater by his hand, which became even more when he squeezed down.
He shushes her soothingly. “I warned you, sweetheart. Now I gotta play into my Boss’ rules.” He said, holding up the gun to her watery view. “Don’t ask me questions like that. Okay?” He pauses to see if her scream had subsided, which it did (Now it was just really heavy panting). “Got anything to say for yourself?”
He removes his hand, letting the chair level back to the floor as she takes in a shaky gasp of air.
“Y-You’re…” Kaila chokes, and tries to give him a cold look. “YOU’RE FUCKING INSANE!!!”
Baldy shakes his head. “Me? ME?! I’M INSANE, HUH?! I’M THE CRAZY ONE?!” He starts laughing with hysteria. “Oh… I guess I am. Huh?” He scoffs and cups her face, ignoring how she tries to jerk out of his touch. “Oh, Miss Murdock, what am I going to do with you? Hmm?”
He uses his thumbs to wipe her stained cheeks cleaned, and earns another flinch. He then stands up to fetch his chair to plop down in front of her again.
He sighs. “Alright. Let’s have a look at this.” He starts touching the wound he caused on her thigh, and she whimpers loudly at the touch. “Alright. You know what? Let’s…” He reaches for the gag around her neck, placing it over her mouth and tying it roughly. “Let’s put that back on.”
He starts touching it again. “Well, the bullet’s still in there. But–” He gives her a smile. “You wouldn’t want me to go digging for it, would you? Don’t want to cause you any more pain, right?”
Kaila closes her eyes, more tears falling as he pats her cheek in his attempt to ‘soothe’ her. She wishes she had the power to burn that disgusting hand from his arm.
Suddenly, off in the distance of this gigantic building, you could hear a door closing loudly.
The two of them perked up for different reasons. One annoyed and one (slightly) hopeful. Could you guess who was who?
Baldy hums. “I don’t remember expecting anyone yet.” He quickly pulls out his phone, turning on the screen. He frowns. “Hmm… nothing.” He stands up once more. “I’ll be right back. ‘Cause last time I checked, Boss was supposed to call me before picking you up.”
Picking me up? She wonders as she watches him walk away while whistling some tune. She could only hope whoever came in was on her side, but she was scared for them. She now knew that Baldy was a lot more crazy than she thought, and didn’t know what he was fully capable of.
She closes her eyes and starts quietly crying.
I really hope that’s my dad…
•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°
She promised herself she wasn’t going to cry again, not unless they were happy tears; But here she is, doing the opposite. Karen had her face buried into her hands, feeling like the weight of the world was crushing her form. Unlike Matt and Foggy, Karen knew really what this kidnapping was (probably) doing to Kaila.
Although, the more she thought about it, the more she didn’t like the outcome. When the teenager stumbled to her door after killing Wesley, it sure felt different than now. Karen knew what killing another human being feels like. She knew how to handle the situation, knew how to comfort like nobody else would.
But this was different. They didn’t know who this kidnapper was. And even with the note they left there was no clear MO. Was it just revenge? Did they want money from Nelson and Murdock? What was it? And why was this person’s brother their first client? She was their first client. She remembers that day as crystal clear as it could get. And it couldn’t be her beloved brother Kevin because she killed him he died. Or…
Do I really have more siblings than I thought? That thought made her skin crawl, and Karen couldn’t help but choke down another sob.
Oh, god… what if I got that poor child killed?
“What exactly are you saying? Matt?!”
The sudden voice makes her look up, finding her colleagues coming back in.
“Matt?” Foggy tries again, but the blind man isn't listening as he sets another box on the table, opening up and digging inside.
“What’s going on?” Karen asked, wiping her eyes clean as she stood up.
Foggy jerks his finger towards their friend. “He just said something weird and won’t elaborate on what he meant.”
She looks his way. “Matt?”
Matt didn’t answer until he found the file he’s looking for. He holds it close like it’s his last life source. “In the ransom note, It states that we, Nelson and Murdock, failed to help the kidnapper’s brother. Which is…” He trails off for them to finish.
Foggy and Karen share a look of confusion.
“Which… is your guys’ first client.” She replies, stating the obvious.
“Which is Karen.” He adds.
“Correction. It says our ‘Official First Client’. That’s not Karen.” Matt said, getting even stranger looks thrown his way.
Foggy shakes his head, holding his hands up. “Hang on a second.” He said, processing. “What?”
“It’s not Karen.” 
“Explain.”
“Okay…” Matt nods with a small sigh. “Do you remember the beginning for us? We met Karen on the first day we opened after Brett gave us that tip that we desperately needed. Without any questions, we went down there with hope. However…” He cast his gaze at the blonde. “Karen. What did you say to us that almost made Foggy walk out the door?”
Foggy cocks his head in confusion again, as the gears in Karen’s head start to turn.
She pursues her lips. “That…” Her eyes widened. “I didn’t have any money.”
Matt points at her. “Exactly. Now, of course since you were our client, regardless if you paid or not, we still would have a file on you. However, since you never gave us any money, besides that one file, there’s nowhere else to tell anyone that Karen was a client of ours. Which means…” 
Now it was Foggy’s turn to understand. “It wouldn’t be something we write on our taxes. Or better yet, there’s no check from Karen in our bank account. There’s no statement backing her up as our first client other than word to mouth.”
Matt points to him now. “Now you’re both getting it.”
“Okay, okay.” Karen begins, holding up her hands, thinking. “So… your first client was a paying client. Something that you can prove. Who?”
“Yeah.” Foggy says, nodding. “Who? We did a lot of charity work before we started making bank, Matt.”
“Agreed. We did.” Matt admits, nodding as well. “So I really had to think about this one. But then it hit me. Our first client was someone who gave us a lot of money that day. And that was–” He flips the file over, showing off the name. “John Healy.”
Foggy cocks his head again. “John–” He gasps. “The bowling ball dude! Prohaszka’s killer.”
Another nod. “Exactly.” Matt said, setting the folder down. “He was our first paying client, which–
“W-Which we, quote-on-quote, failed… when he committed suicide.” Karen said, piecing it all together.
“Also correct.”
“B-But…” Foggy stutters into a sigh. “That doesn’t make any sense. Didn’t we learn later on that he killed himself because of Fisk?”
“Yeah.” Karen replies, pointing at her colleague, agreeing. “H-He killed himself. W-We didn’t have anything to do with that.”
“Obviously Mr. Healy’s brother didn’t see it that way.” Matt said, somberly.
“But I don’t remember seeing in the reports that Healy had a brother.” Foggy said, thinking again.
“Doesn’t mean that he doesn’t have one. Also, who knows…” The blind man shrugs. “John Healy could have been a pseudonym for all we know.”
“True.”
“Wait.” Karen said, holding her hand up. “M-Maybe it’s true. Maybe he really does have a brother. However, we can’t forget that John Healy was hired by Fisk to assassinate Prohaszka so that the Russians could take over his territory. What if… Fisk is behind this?”
Foggy looks at her with bewilderment. “Karen, Fisk is in jail, we put him there.”
“I know, but…” She bites her lip. “Once a mob boss, always a mob boss. Even if he’s in jail, it doesn't mean he doesn’t still have eyes and ears everywhere. Right?”
The question made the room fall into darkness. The silence was almost hard to bear as they all mentally trembled at the mere thought of Fisk coming back into the field.
Matt clears his throat. “So… we have two options, I guess. One, is that John Healy had a brother who blames us for his death. Or…” The next sentence felt ill on his tongue. “Wilson Fisk… is coming back with revenge for putting him behind bars. Both unfortunately seem likely.”
“So what do we do?” Karen asked, hugging herself.
“We call Brett.” Foggy replies, sounding more confident than before. “Tell him what we found. Maybe he could use it to find her, and hopefully he has leads already.”
She nods at this. “Hopefully. D-Do you want to call him or–”
“No, No. I’ll call him. I got him on speed dial anyway.”
“Really, Foggy. I can do it.”
“No. I got it. Don’t worry.” 
She tries to convince him again, damn well knowing what he was doing, but already left the room with his phone in his hand. She bites her lip.
Damn you, Foggy. She cusses and hugs herself a little tighter. Maybe if she stays quiet, he wouldn’t ask–
“Hey, Karen?” Matt said, which makes her close her eyes out of frustration.
“Y-Yeah, Matt?” She stutters, quietly.
“Are you okay?”
She opens her eyes to look at him, and even with his shades on she could see the genuine concern on his face towards her. For being a blind man he sure knew how to read people.
Karen finds herself shaking her head, getting teary eyed again. He seemed to figure that out as well.
“Karen?” He begins, but she finally replies.
“No… I’m not.”
And that was the absolute truth.
•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°
The door creaked open louder than he wanted, and cussed under his breath when it closed the same. The Officer had his gun trained on something imaginary infront of him, eyes carefully looking around the warehouse. A simple task of checking the port for anything out of the ordinary took a turn when heard a single gunshot. Just a single sound of one could mean a lifetime of choices. 
The man in blue started taking a slow and steady stroll, peeking around corners on the metal crates, listening intensely for anything out of place. Well…
He certainly found something out of place.
He lowers his gun slightly, eyes full of surprise. “Oh my god.” He mutters, his presence making the girl meet his gaze. “You’re that kidnapped girl.”
Kaila’s heart sank, and she swears she probably became even paler than she already is. The Officer obviously didn’t see that her expression wasn’t out of surprise but rather out of fear for him.
He uses his free hand to touch his radio, the device making a tiny crackling sound. “This is Officer Carmichael. I was at my post when I heard a gunshot, seeked it out. I’m at a warehouse, one closest by the water, I have a hostage situation. The hostage is the abducted girl we’ve been looking for.”
He lets go of the button, face softening on his strong features. “You okay, Ma’am?” He asked, taking a small step forward. She starts shaking her head, muffling saying something. “Don’t be scared. I’m here to help.”
She repeats the same motion again, praying he’ll get the message.
{Copy that. Is the hostage injured?}
The radio crackled again, and the Officer paused his steps to answer. “Hostage is…” He trails off to do a head to toe scan. “Hostage appears to be–”
She never knew metal hitting bone would sound so terrifying.
She had so desperately tried to say something before she watched the man get struck in the side of the head by a chair. Baldy had come out of nowhere, a rageful look in his eye as he knocked the officer down. She screamed as he hit him again, and again, and again until the man in blue stopped moving.
Baldy let out a sigh, dropping the chair painted red with a loud rattle, making her sob loudly. 
{-Carmichael? Officer Carmichael? Do you copy? Sir?}
Another sigh. “Stupid cop. Almost ruined all the fun.” He grumbled, and stepped on the radio a few times until it stopped spewing feedback. 
•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°
Frank’s been called a lot of things his entire life. Some of it was true, some of it was just a meaningless taunt, and some of it was just to get under his skin. But there’s one name that he’ll have to take to heart, one that he just has to accept.
Monster.
He was a monster. He knows what he’s done. From here to the war. A monster. But even this monster knows when to take a minute and show some kind of mercy.
He heard stories about a man in a mask long before coming to Hell’s Kitchen.
The Man in Black. The Man without Fear. The Devil. 
He heard stories about people fearing him. People fearing that they’ll end up getting thrown off a rooftop, or having both their legs broken by just robbing an old lady for her purse. He was the vigilante protecting this city, and it wasn’t until he stopped Wilson Fisk from escaping that’s when he started to earn some respect. They called him Daredevil. A hero. But one that people still needed to fear despite the good stuff seeping through the cracks.
But Frank didn’t care when he came to do his job. He didn’t care if he would get a visit from someone who plays dress up. And, to be honest, Frank wasn’t at all impressed. This so called… Devil of Hell’s Kitchen was a prissy.
Sure, I guess he’ll give it to him that he knows how to put up a fight, but that’s it. Just the man talking wanted Frank to melt his own ears off. That shit about hope made him want to strangle Red until he stopped moving. 
These vile people needing redemption is a bunch of bullshit. He scoffed.
His plan was just to let Red hear his voicemails before shooting up the gang’s hideout, letting Red listen to the scum crying for help as he couldn’t do anything but just sit there tied in chains. But plans change. He’s a soldier, he expects the unexpected. Yet…
None of that training could prepare him for what happened next.
Red had a friend. A friend who sounded hysterical, one who was begging him to answer the phone. And slowly those pleading voicemails turned into every parent's worst nightmare. 
Red’s child was missing -no- taken. Taken by some… low life prick in this city. It wasn’t just Frank’s exterior that changed, but Red’s did. His whole hero front fell as he started to beg, beg him to let him go and find his child.
Now Frank may be a monster, but he loved nothing more in this world than his children. 
And from the sound of it, so did Red. And what kind of father would Frank be if he didn’t let him go?
The police radio he had started crackling, a new signal coming through. Frank paused his task of cleaning his rifle to listen, silently hoping that this is the lead he needs.
{S-Shots were fired. Officer Carmichael is not responding after sending in his call. Calling all available units to the port. The Officer states the kidnapped teenager is at one of the warehouses closest to the water.}
{Copy that. Did the Officer state what’s going on with the teenager?}
{Nothing to be reported. The teenager, Kaila Murdock, is five-four, one hundred and ten pounds, with brown hair and brown eyes. The suspect charged with her abduction may be armed. Proceed with caution.}
{Copy that. Heading over there now.}
Frank takes the information in, thinking his plan over extremely carefully.
The port, huh? He stands up from the ledge he is sitting on, turning off the radio.
Time for me to pay Red a visit.
•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°
Matt could hear the hurt in her voice. The guilt. The pain she was feeling from all of this. He finds himself standing in front of her, smelling the new and old salt on her delicate cheeks.
“What’s wrong?” He asked, gently. He heard her lip quiver as she said,
“I really thought it was my fault, Matt.”
“Karen–”
“I really, really thought this was because of me.”
“Karen, Karen.” He tries to soothe. “Even if it was your brother, I could never blame you for this.”
She shakes her head. “But Matt, It’s your kid, I can’t–”
“Karen–”
“I really love her, Matt.”
Of course she does. Matt knew this. He senses this. However, her confession felt… different then when Foggy says it. Why would it be–
“She’s an amazing kid.” Karen continues, oblivious to his overthinking. “She’s been nothing but nice to me. Polite. I always have good conversations with her and… I love her. I love her enough that I don’t want anything happening to her. So… If this really is my fault then… I don’t know what I’ll do to myself.”
All of a sudden, her confession reminded him of a case he took early in his career. It was a custody case, one that Matt knew right away that the father wasn’t going to win; But his client, the mother who he knew would win without any worries, broke down in the most painful way. The love she had for her son was off the charts, she would do anything to keep him in her arms, even if it was only for one more night. And that woman… reminded him of the blonde standing before him. Matt came into a sudden realization that Karen–
Loves my daughter. And that was like a one and million chance for him. His past few dates or people who were almost his girlfriend never stuck around when he told them he had a kid. Now it’s not like he expected them to be a mother to his daughter, but all he asked was a little respect that none of them could provide.
Until now.
“Karen, That’s–” Matt begins, a little smile growing on his lips. “The nicest thing that anyone has said to me about my daughter.” He felt her look of surprise, and slight confusion.
“Wha– really?” She asked, getting a nod.
“Yeah.” He couldn’t keep the happiness off his face. “Thank you.”
“Matt–”
“Relax.” He takes her by the hand. “Everything’s going to be fine. We’ll get her back.”
She squeezes his hand as the words sink, her red lips curling into a smile. 
Foggy suddenly comes back in, cell phone in hand. “Alright, I called him.” He said, expression somber.
“What did he say?” Matt said, hopeful. 
“Well, Brett didn’t take the call, someone else did.” He frowns. “I told them what we found but they didn’t have any updates yet.”
Matt’s face falls and Karen squeezes his hand.  “Of course…”
“I’m sorry, Man.”
“No. It’s fine.” It’s not but, “I can just–” He was cut off when his phone started to ring. He digs it out with his free hand, listening to the automated voice.
.
[Unknown Number]
[Unknown Number]
[Unknown Number]
.
“Excuse me.” Matt said, swiping the screen and bringing it to his ear. “Hello?”
‘Didn’t think I’d ever get your attention, Red.’
He felt the wind get knocked out of him. “Frank?” He said, and immediately felt eyes on him.
‘Don’t sound surprised. Listen, Red. Take a left out of your building, and I’m on the roof of the coffee shop.’
“Frank–”
‘Don’t waste any more time.’
The call cut off and Matt was just left standing there with disbelief. 
What the fuck is he–
“Who’s Frank?” Foggy asked, already sensing something is off.
Matt starts conjuring up a lie on the fly as he puts his phone away. “Uh, that was a police officer. They found something at my apartment that they wanted me to look at.” He replies, letting go of Karen’s hand.
“An officer?” 
“Yeah.”
“But you called him by his first name?” Karen said, suspicious. 
“I-I did.” Matt said, shifting his weight. “I became acquainted with him a while ago. So, um, I… gotta go.” He starts shifting past them.
“Go? Do you want me to drive you?” 
“No, No. I’ll be good.” Matt touches Foggy’s shoulder he passed, a silent message that he’s got Daredevil business to deal with. “I’ll give you guys a call afterwards.”
Foggy nods, playing along. “Okay, man. That sounds good.” He said, watching his friend gather his things by the door. “Keep us in the loop.”
Or that was loosely translated to, ‘Be careful or I’ll kick your ass black and blue.’
Matt gives them a nod before heading out the door. Foggy inhales the breath he was holding, and starts rubbing his face with disbelief.
“Foggy?” Karen said, staring at the now closed door.
“Yeah?”
“Wasn’t that strange?”
He stares at her. “Wh-What do you mean?”
She gives him a look like he has two heads. “Did you not see what I see? He’s hiding something.”
“I-I didn’t see anything.”
Karen crosses her arms, looking stern. “Foggy.”
“What?” He raises his hands. “I didn’t see anything.”
She frowns and starts looking around for her belongings. “Well, I’m going after him.”
Foggy felt his stomach drop. “What?” He said, confused.
“He shouldn’t be walking alone.” She explains, grabbing her purse. “I’m going to find him and drop him off at his apartment.”
“What?” He starts following her as she heads for the door. “Y-You can’t.”
Karen sighs as she opens the door. “Why not?” She asked, looking his way.
Now he was like a deer in a headlight, and for some reason he couldn’t come up with a good lie. “Uh…”
She cocks her head, realizing something. “Wait. Do you know what’s going on with him?”
“Uh, well I, um–”
“Oh my god.” She mumbles before hustling out the door, enough to shock Foggy out of his state.
“Wait! Karen!” He yells, quick to snag his keys and runs after her. “Karen! Hold on! Karen!”
But he knows he’s not going to catch up with her in time.
•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°
All her hope was squashed like a bug.
Crushed like a can.
Stepped on like trash.
Every little bit of hope she had of getting out of here was discarded out the window now.
Kaila trembles under his gaze after Baldy uses the front of his shoe to touch the officer’s back. The little movement didn’t even seem to faze the cop who was either unconscious or–
Oh, god. Is he…? 
He seemed to have read her mind as he grins and says, “Don’t worry sweetheart, he’s fine. He’s breathing.” He shrugs. “Barely. But it’s there.”
And you’re okay with that, you sick fuck.
Baldy starts walking over to her, and with little movement she had with her hands, she ends up gripping the chair. She casts her eyes to the floor, too scared to even look at him. Of course he didn’t seem to like it as he tilted her chin up at him.
“Did you say anything to him?” He asked, curiosity and cold make a terrible mix. She shakes her head eagerly. “Good.” He ruffled her already tangled locks. “Good job, sweetheart.”
And she started to cry.
•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°
Matt finally climbed up the fire escape once he knew the coast was clear. Throwing his walking stick aside, but kept the bag he was carrying on his shoulder as he speed walks towards the figure staying in the shadows.
“You got a lot of guts calling me on my phone.” Was his reply, watching the Punisher look at him calmly, despite the large sniper rifle in his calloused hands.
“Well, you didn't look like you were going to be leaving that office of yours any time soon. I had to get your attention somehow, Red.” Frank said, serenely. “I’m surprised you’re not out here with your costume looking for your daughter.”
Matt frowns, hurt. “The devil is the reason my daughter’s in this mess.”
Frank scoffed. “Really? ‘Cause in the police reports I’ve read, it sounded like it was your job that got your daughter in this mess–”
“What do you want, Frank?” The blind man asked, quickly. He just wanted some straight answers at this point. No run arounds.
Frank straightens his stance off the wall. “Followed a police call. An Officer found your kid down by the ports.”
Matt’s heart skipped a beat from the news, his tough exterior cracking immensely. “What?”
“Yeah. The report says the Officer became unresponsive, so they don’t know what’s going on. But your daughter’s there, Red.”
Someone…
.
““Your daughter’s there, Red.””
.
Someone found his kid.
Someone found his kid while he was–
“And…” He almost laughed with disbelief . “And you went through all this trouble to tell me that?” He asked, still not fully processing this yet.
Frank nods slowly. “I expect you to do the same.” He admits, with a sadness in his undertone. “Father to Father.”
Matt cracks just a little smile on his downcast. “Father to Father.” He said, and gestures to the open air without any hesitation. “Lead the way.”
I’m going to save my daughter.
Frank chuckles under his breath, fingers tightening on his weapon, a sign showing he's open for business. “Let’s go get your kid.” He replies, pushing off the wall and heading in the direction with Red right on his–
“Matt?”
The two grown men stop in their tracks, a cold sweat on their necks.
Shit. Matt felt his stomach drop.
He swears he didn’t even hear her following. He was so caught up in his own thoughts he didn’t even get the chance to slow down and really listen. He turns around, hiding his surprise as senses Karen standing at the top of the fire escape; He could almost picture the look on her face. The look of shock, confusion… betrayal(?). All of it. And all of it made his throat tighten up.
She seemed to realize she was just staring, and started moving to stand on solid ground. “W-What are… what is this?” She asked, looking between him and the gunman she quickly recognized. “W-What’s going on?”
Matt wants to bow his head in shame, he wants to start running away but he couldn’t. His feet felt glued to this rooftop. 
This is not how I want her to find out. He must have stayed quiet for too long because she started shouting his name.
“Matt!” Karen said, arms moving in frustration, enough to make the heels in her hand start thumping loudly together. “What is this? What’s going on? How’d you even get up here?”
Matt takes a deep breath, coming up close, careful not to step on her bare feet. “Karen. Don’t get mad, I–”
“Mad?” She said, almost scoffing. “I-I f-find you with the criminal that is after our client a-and you’re telling me not to get mad, and–”
“Karen.” He said, calmly enough to cut off her rambling.
“What?” She said, a hiss in her tongue.
“He…” He swallows. “He found Kaila.”
She stares, stunned. “What?”
“He found Kaila. He’s asked me to come with him.”
Another long stare. “What?” She shakes her head. “C-Come… come with you? Matt, are you crazy?! You can’t go with him! You’re not–”
Her words die quickly when he opens up his gym bag. 
Shock was probably not the strong enough word to describe what she was feeling all of a sudden.
Inside she saw a very familiar looking helmet. Painted a nice shade of red and black with a stitching mark near one of the eyeholes. The mask that’s…
Oh my god, He’s–
“I know this is a lot to take in right now, and I’m really sorry.” Matt says, getting her attention. “I-I promise… I'll explain everything later, But right now… I need to go get my kid.”
Karen tilts her head, trying to make sense of this. “Matt–” She croaked.
“I know.” He whispers softly. “I know. But I need to go. The officer who found her non responsive, so I don't know what's going on. But my daughter's in danger, and I need to go get her.” He swallows. “Okay?”
Matt was ready for her to counter back, expecting her to. But she didn’t. He heard her nod very subtly as she sealed her lips, hiding what she had to say. Yet, that was enough for him to take it as a sign to leave.
He closes his bag, and with every promising bone in his body he replies, “I’ll be back.”
Then he left, following the Punisher in the direction of the ports.
Karen was left just standing there, standing there wondering what she should feel. Anger? Sadness? Shock? She wasn’t sure. She wasn’t pulled from her thoughts when she heard someone calling her name very faintly. Somehow she found herself back on the ground floor, briskly strolling out of the alley and onto the sidewalk, not even bothering to put her heels back on as she stared blankly in the open space.
“K-Karen!” Foggy shouts, with a heavy underline of breathing. “K-Karen…” He starts slowing his pace upon seeing her. “Jesus, you walk fast.” 
She stayed quiet as he stopped to put his hands on his kneecaps, taking a moment to breathe some air. Once he started to cool down, that’s when he realized how silent she was being.
He looks up at her with a slight tilt in his head. “Karen?” He asked, straightening up. He then takes this chance to look at her, quickly noticing the shoes were in her hand and the torn gaze in her eyes. It took all his strength not to let his heart drop to his ankles.
Oh… His hazel eyes widened slightly, pursing his lips.
“Oh.” He mumbles verbally. “So… you know.” He watches her meet his gaze and nods. He inhales loudly. “Okay. Um–” He runs his hand through his hair, thinking. “Y-You–”
“Matt was with that…” She bites her lip. “That Punisher guy. I asked him what and why, and…” Karen throws her open hand in the air. “H-He showed me his costume so… yeah.”
“Oh.” He blinks. “So that’s how– wait… The Punisher?”
“From what I gather I think he’s that… Frank fellow on the phone so… um–” She sighs, throwing her head back. “He told Matt he knows where Kaila is.”
Foggy felt his eyes widen again. “What?” He perks up at the news. “He does?” He waits for her to nod once more. “T-That’s great! Oh my god, that’s…” He felt his joy burn away instantly. “Karen–”
“How long have you known?” Karen asked, locking her blue orbs with his. She was starting to look torn between two worlds again. “How long have you known that Matt was… that.”
He frowns, a bitter memory coming to haunt him. He takes a deep breath, and takes a small step forward. “Do you remember around the time before we took down Fisk, and Matt and I were… resenting one another?”
She copies his expression. “I do.”
“Well… it was around that. Uh, Matt had uh… tried to go after Fisk when he killed Ms. Cardenas. Uh–” Foggy starts waving his hand around, like he was trying to conjure his thoughts. “I-I got… drunk at Josie’s if you remember. After that, I went to his apartment. I wanted to talk to him about getting justice for her. Before you know it, I find him in his black outfit, bleeding to death. That’s when I realized why Matt looked so… used all the time. He had another life.”
Karen lets out a sigh, closing her eyes to take a moment. Once she opened them again she started shaking her head. “And… y-you argued with him, after that?” She asked, trying to make sense of this all.
Foggy nods eagerly, hiding no shame. “I was angry at him. I mean, we’ve been best friends since College, to find out that’s what he’s been doing every night just… baffled me. I couldn’t believe it.” He replies, sounding hurt just by talking about it. “I said things that should be said, and I said things that I probably shouldn’t have said to him. It was just… hard seeing him like that. Hard to see what he was becoming and what it was doing to his life and his family.”
“Wow…” She whispers, before paleing. “Wait. D-Did… Did Kaila figure that out that night? Or…”
“Oh! No, no, no.” Foggy chuckles dryly. “She found out… about a year before me.” He almost shakes his head again upon picturing Matt’s face. “In fact, he told me once he tried to hide that from her.”
That actually got Karen to snicker a little. “Oh my god, that sounds like something he would do. I mean, I guess I could understand keeping it from his friends, but his daughter? How would he be able to do that?”
He gestures at her. “Right! God, he’s so… stubborn, it’s ridiculous.” He listens to her laugh, showing off her pearly whites which lifted his spirits. It was only for a minute or so before he had to break this emotion. “So how do you feel about this?” 
She shrugs. “Honestly… I don’t know. I really don’t.” She looks at him again, her mixed expression resting on her features again. “What do we do now?”
Foggy frowns, hurtfully. “All we can do right now is wait. We did our job. Now it’s Matt’s turn to finish.”
Silence came again, but it was one that was going to stay until they got that important phone call.
•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°
“Great news.”
Kaila looks up at him with bloodshot eyes. Baldy seemed so bubbly now, like he had just won the lottery or something big like that. She knew whatever he was going to say wasn’t going to be good despite his appearance. 
Unfazed by her disheveled appearance he continues, “Boss is sending someone to come get us.” His reply makes her body grow cold, shaky fingers gripping the armrest. “Awe, don’t look so down. It’ll be fun.”
The dim lights above them suddenly went out, and with them, so did Baldy’s happy-go-lucky attitude. 
He points at her furiously, rage filling his already dark orbs. “You.” He snarled, preying closer. “You told me you didn’t say anything to the cop.” She tried shaking her head but was met with his fierce back hand, causing a small whimper. “Fucking bitch.”
The same door from earlier slams shut, echoing off the wall and scaring him straight.
“Fuck.” He grumbles, pulling out his knife. He starts cutting her free of the ropes, looking around worriedly. When the last limb was free, he pulled the disoriented girl to her feet by her hair. “Come on.”
Kaila would have toppled over from her injured leg if it wasn’t for his arm wrapping around her waist, keeping her upright as they moved. The whole moving process became a blur from the pain. She knew she was wincing every time they abruptly stopped to hide behind a crate, or to make a jerky turn somewhere; Every time they did he would curse something under his breath, occasionally looking around again, knowing someone was in this warehouse hunting them down. Who though? That’s the sketchy question.
Somehow, she knows the direction he wanted to go was inevitable, judging by the way he reacted. This hunter of theirs was trying to cage them in, keep them in one place for who knows what reason. So he chose their detour to be some stairs leading to the roof. What was going through this crazed man’s head was beyond her, as she stared at the dark river and city skylines that had started to become really fuzzy.
They got close to the edge, stopping right before their toes went over. Dread crept up their spines, and Baldy spun them both around, pressing the gun into her temple making her whimper. She shuts her eyes out of instinct, afraid to see who was following them.
“Looks like this is the end of the line for you.” 
Kaila shot open her eyes at the familiar voice, and never has she been so relieved to see him in that suit. He really looked like the devil was out hunting by the way he was illuminated in the moonlight, which was showing off just the right amount of rage he didn’t dare to hide this time. She called out his name, but of course it was muffled.
“Quiet.” Baldy hissed, pressing the barrel in more, making her sob (and her father clench his fists). “What the fuck do you want, freak?”
The fact that Matt could smell his daughter’s blood and taste the salt on her skin was enough to make him boil. “I want you to give me the girl you're holding.” He said, low and cold, enough to rattle anyone in their boots.
“Not a fucking chance, Devil Boy.” Baldy snaps, squeezing her around the waist tighter. “I’ve got orders.”
“Orders which you’re going to disobey. Give me the girl.”
“Not a chance.”
Matt grits his teeth. “Listen to me. I’m giving you one chance to do this on your free will. I suggest you take it.”
“Bite me.”
“Listen–” Matt begins to take a step but that seemed to be the wrong move at the moment.
“Don’t you fucking come any closer!!” He yells, taking a step backwards so that his heels are off the ledge… and that Kaila was being held over.
Her scream was enough to make Matt’s skin crawl. He holds up his hands defensively. “Whoa! What about your orders?!” He asked, urgently (alarmed).
“These are my orders! If anything gets in my way I can get rid of her.” Baldy explains, disgusted. “I-I mean... I get paid more if I deliver her alive though…”
“Then keep her alive!” Matt shouts, hearing the way this man was loosening his grip on his kid. “Just give her to me.”
Baldy shakes his head. “No.”
“Last chance.” Matt replies, hearing a certain someone starting to press their finger on the trigger. “Give me the girl.”
He shakes his head again. “I told you. I’m not–”
The vigilante remained as still as he could to let the bullet rip by and lodge itself in the man’s skull.
Kaila finds herself screaming again as the floor gave out and her captor started dropping too. She closed her eyes out of fear again just as she felt a familiar grasp. She felt his hands around her forearms as her body scraped against the side of the building, slowly rocking back and forth from the sudden momentum. 
Matt dug his feet into the roof, grounding himself enough to pull his kid up with all his might. The impact of his daughter to his chest made them both stumble to their knees. He could finally let out a gasp of relief feeling her in his arms. He never thought he would be happy to feel his daughter shaking uncontrollably in his embrace. It almost felt too good to be true.
“Kai. Kai.” Her name felt like heaven on his lips as he used one hand to hold her upright, while the other was used to discard his helmet. He could feel her shocked expression on him as he removed her gag. “Kaila?”
“D-Dad…?” She said, throat all scruffy from the hours of yelling.
He lets a smile play on his lips from hearing her speak. “Kai.”
“D-Dad.” She sobs, eyes trailing to his mask. “Y-You’re helmet, you–”
“Hey. Hey.” Matt cups her face gently, making sure she was looking at him. “It doesn’t matter.”
Kaila starts looking puzzled. “But… you’re identity–”
“I don’t care.” He shakes his head. “I don’t care about that right now.”
“Dad…”
“Listen to me, Kai. I am so, so sorry.” Matt almost broke right here. “I am so sorry. I should have never said what I said. I never meant it. I swear. I am so sorry.”
Kaila's lower lip quivered. “Dad.” She sobs. “I’m s-sorry too.”
He shakes his head once more. “You have nothing to be sorry about.” And he meant that. “You hear me? Nothing at all.”
She makes a sound between a laugh and a cry. “D-Daddy…”
Matt’s heart broke all over again before pulling his daughter closer, showering her face with kisses. He only starts silently crying when she does, which makes him pull her back into his arms, carefully cradling her head into his chest. She starts wailing, tightening her grip on him like she was afraid he would disappear.
Matt shushes softly, rubbing soothing circles on her bare back. “It’s okay. I got you. You’re safe. You’re okay.” He said, which was supposed to be for her but to put some comfort in himself too. “You’re okay…”
She’s okay. She’s fine. She’s in my arms. He closes his eyes, pulling her closer.
She holds back a sob a few moments later, feeling like someone was watching them heedfully. Kaila nestles her head, looking over her father’s shoulder to someone off in the distance. She didn’t recognize the man with the large rifle, and although he looked pretty threatening with it, his face was holding onto the emotion of relief; He looked satisfied with his mission. She opens her mouth to question who he was but ends up whimpering in pain when her father moved her the slightest.
Matt pulls back, worriedly cupping her face again. “What’s wrong?” He asked, scared. He wasn’t mentally prepared for what’s next.
She lets out a shaky breath. “L-Leg…”
He pauses to figure out what she meant, using his senses to figure it out. It didn’t take him that long to figure out why he smelled so much blood on her. He could even hear the tiniest sound the bullet made when she moves.
“I-I…” Kaila begins, trembling again. “I-I said something I shouldn’t have and… h-he s-shot me and–”
“Oh, Kai.” Matt said, quietly. He should have prepared for something like this. He shouldn’t have suspected she was going to be in some kind of painful state. “Oh, Baby girl.” She freezes under his touch, and Matt fears he did something wrong. “What?”
“You… haven’t called me that since I was kid.”
Matt chuckles at how surprised she sounded. “Ah, well… maybe I didn’t call you that enough.” He admits, sensing her smile. Now it was his turn to pause, tuning in on something loud nearby. “The police are here. In the distance.”
“I honestly didn’t think they were coming.” Kaila said, sounding small.
“Well there’s ten of these warehouses by the water so…” He trails off, the guilt returning again. “Listen, I can’t… I can’t take you home with me. I have to hand you over to them.”
She nods slowly. “I know. I suspected.”
“Good. But I’ll be there when they call me. Okay?”
“You better.” She teases, getting him to laugh again.
Matt plants another kiss in her hairline. “Alright, I’m going to pick you up, okay? It’s probably going to hurt. You ready?”
Another nod. “I am.” But before he did, she carefully reached over for his mask, holding it towards him. “Helmet, Dad.”
He takes and slips it on, then carefully takes her in his arms bridal style. She cries out weakly, shutting her eyes when he tries to adjust the injured leg somewhere comfortably. 
He apologizes which she tells him off politely. Matt begins carrying his daughter towards the roof’s entrance, listening to the law enforcement get closer to their location.
“I want a vacation after this.” She says into his neck, dead serious.
Matt finds himself smirking at a fresh memory. “You know, funny thing, Foggy mentioned something like that earlier.”
“Well he’s not wrong.” She smirks too. “I mean it, I want to go to the beach, do absolutely nothing while drinking something fruity.” She tilts her head enough to look up at him. “Does Florida do fruity drinks too?”
“Your Uncle was thinking more like Hawaii.” He explains, shifting his weight to open the door without jostling her.
Her eyes widened. “Hawaii? Can we even afford that?” She scoffs playfully. “Well, this can be one hell of a Go Fund Me story.”
Matt shakes his head. “Okay, you two are scary.”
•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°
Officer Brett Mahoney rolled his vehicle to a stop, quick to get out. Flashlight in hand he strolls over to what he thinks is a person on the ground. He sees a small pool of red around the man’s head, eyes closed and limbs spread around. He had a feeling he knew who this man was, but it was still his job to check for a pulse. He puts two fingers to his neck, feeling a very, very faint flutter underneath them.
Brett shakes his head. “You lucky, lucky bastard.” He mumbles, bitterly as he comes to a stand. Then he hears someone walking towards him, and out of instinct his hand goes to his holster. He honestly shouldn’t be surprised that he was there, but still was. 
“Mr. Daredevil.” He said, eyeing him as he came into view, the flashlight shining upon him to give him a better look. He perks up what’s in the vigilante’s arms. “You found her.”
“She’s injured, and the officer who found her is inside. He’s unconscious, but breathing.” Matt explains quickly, feeling his daughter shift her head to see their acquaintance. 
“I’ll send some men over.” His eyes land on the teenager, softening slightly. “You alright, Miss Murdock?”
Kaila nods. “I’m better now.”
“Good.” Brett gestures to the man behind him. “I’m assuming this ain’t your doing.”
“You know me well then.” Matt said, grateful that he wasn’t going to be pinned to that (despite him being okay that that vile man got a bullet to his head).
Brett hums, thinking. “Then who then?”
He shrugs. “Your guess is as good as mine.” He replies, playing dumb.
Brett says nothing more on that, instead taking care of what he was here for. “I’ll take Miss Murdock now. Get her some help.” He says, putting away his flashlight.
Matt nods and starts slowly setting her down onto her feet, just as she grabs him by the wrist.
“Thank you.” Kaila says, which was underlining the real sentence: ‘I’ll see you soon’.
Matt’s serious exterior melted visibly. “You’re welcome.” He helps her grab onto Brett before backing away. He stays for a few seconds just until he knows she’s settled in, then he turns on his heels to disappear into the night.
Brett stared with knowing eyes in the direction he left in. “He seems different.” He says, as Kaila looked at him funny.
“How?” She asked, confused.
But he shakes his head, getting a good hold on her. “Nevermind. Let’s sit you in the car. Ambulance’s on their way.”
•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°
Three sets of footsteps came bursting into the room, the heavy door practically came off the hinges from their impact. They shouted the girl’s name who immediately looked up from her gaze at the nurse who was changing her IV.
Kaila smiles, only twitching a little from the bruise on her cheek. “S’up?” She asked, the woman in scrubs slipping away.
“K-Pop!” Foggy said, coming over to give her a bear hug. “Holy fuck, that was scary.”
Her happiness sounded more like a groan when he gave her a tight squeeze. “Uh, Foggy, my leg, please.”
He pulls back from confusion. “What?” He watches her lift the sheet up showing up the bandage job. His eyes widened. “What the fuck happen?!”
“Eh, kind of my fault. I said something I probably shouldn’t have.”
Karen came up next, giving her a more mild version of his hug. “Hi, sweet girl.” She said, earning a hum.
“Hi, Karen.” Kaila's facial expression grows upon seeing her dad (again). “Hi, Dad.”
“Kai.” He said, cupping her cheeks carefully and kissing her forehead. “How are you feeling?”
“Honestly… nothing. This pain meds doing its job.”
“Good. I would hate seeing you in pain.” Foggy said, truthfully.
Her face falls into something bittersweetly. “It is what it is.” Kaila sighs. “The police come by yet?”
“Not yet. Brett mentioned something about giving you some time.” Matt explains, a slight anger in his undertone, not directed at her.
“That’s… honestly surprising. I’d thought they would want answers on a looney like that.”
“Well, that looney of yours is in a coma right now. So I doubt he’s going to try to run anywhere any time soon.” Foggy replies, frowning bitterly.
“Exactly.” Karen said, nodding. “Just don’t worry about him and just focus on recovering.”
“Agreed.” He smiles. “We’re just happy you're okay. I’m glad that the Punisher guy gave Matt a tip to save you.”
Kaila felt herself lose air from that sentence, stiffening immediately. “Wh-What? W-What are you talking about? M-My… My d-dad didn’t save me, i-it was Daredevil and…” She trails off when the three of them looked away from her, making her realize–
“Wait.” She points at the blonde. “You know?” She watches Karen nod before she points between her and her Uncle. “You both know?” Another nod, and Kaila let her tense body relax. “Oh, thank god.” She breathes, throwing her hands up. “Do you know how hard it was to not say anything to you about it?”
Karen laughs. “Oh, I can imagine.” 
“Wow.” Kaila said, taking it in. She looks at her father, curious. “Did you tell her, Dad?”
“Uh…” Matt shifted his stance before giving a half shrug. “Well–”
“She walked in on him talking to the Punisher, then to clear it up, your dear old dad showed her his suit.” Foggy clears it, Matt nodding along.
Kaila raises both eyebrows in shock. “Accidental? Again? Dad, you got to work on that.”
Matt chuckles dryly. “I’ll… I’ll try.”
“Well, I guess that’s a better way to find out.” She said, now gazing over towards Karen. “At least you didn’t find him bleeding half to death.”
Her blue eyes widened at the news. “What?!” Karen snaps her neck towards the blind man. “She found you bleeding too?”
Matt holds on hand up in defense. “I have no comment.”
She sighs. “Oh my god…”
Suddenly there was a light knock on the open door, a nurse poked her head inside, holding a clipboard. “Mr. Murdock?” 
“That’s me.” Matt said, turning his attention towards her.
“I just need to go over a few things with you.”
“Okay. Um–” He cocks his head towards his friends. “Hey, can one of you help me to…” He makes a writing motion with his hand.
“Yeah, I’ll come with you.” Foggy said, and placed a hand on the man’s shoulder to guide him away.
Now it was just the two girls looking in their direction they left in, both having different thoughts running through their heads. Their brewing minds were put to the stop soon enough when one of them finally broke.
“Now you see why I didn’t want to tell him.” Kaila suddenly says after she watches them step into the hallway, quietly talking.
The older woman turns her attention to her, confused. “About what?”
The teenager frowns. “About the incident. What my father does, that’s the main reason why I have trouble telling him.”
Now it all makes sense to her. Karen now realizes why it was so hard for the kid to come clean about Wesley. She was afraid of…
“That’s why you were afraid.” Karen begins, piecing it together. “You aren’t afraid for your father, you're afraid of what your father’s going to do.”
Kaila nods. “Yeah. You’ve seen him in action. You know what my dad can do.” 
“But, Kai, your dad wouldn’t go that far. Would he?”
The teenager’s frown deepens. “You haven’t seen what I’ve seen. My dad he’s… he’s got this… darkness inside. He tries to hide it from me but I still see it sometimes.” She explains, sadly. “Like, I-I think if… the situation with me earlier was different, like if he found me tied to that chair and not dangling over the edge of a building, I think I would have seen that side of him tonight.”
Karen copies her expression, coming closer to sit on the side of the bed. “Listen, your father really loves you and what I think you’re describing is just a normal feeling for a parent. No parent wants to see their child get hurt by anyone else.” 
“Yeah, I understand that. However if my dad–” Kaila lowers her voice. “Kills someone because of me, not only will I feel guilty, but I might lose him.” She starts to get a little teary eyed from this. “Don’t get me wrong, I love you and Foggy, and I wouldn’t mind living with you guys, but I still want to be able to live with my dad until I’m that age. You know?”
“Kai–” Karen takes her hand. “Don’t worry about this too much. We’ll figure something out, I promise. But for now, just focus on getting better, okay?” She waits until the girl shakes her head, satisfied by it. “Okay. Are you hungry at all?”
“I could eat.” 
“Alright. I’ll go get you something.” Karen stands up and makes her way to the door just as the boys were coming back.
“Where you heading?” Foggy asked, curious.
“Cafeteria. I’m going to get her something to eat. You hungry?”
“Famished, actually. Matt?”
“Yeah, that sounds good.” Matt replies. “You know what I like.”
“Yes! Hospital food! Here we come.”
Karen snorts. “Come on, Cowboy.” She starts tugging him along. “We’ll be back.”
When they left Matt made his way over, taking the same spot Karen was sitting moments before. “How you feeling?”
“Fine.” Kaila said, truthfully. “I wish I was in my bed though.”
“We’ll get you there soon. You just need to rest.” He said, grabbing her hand gently. 
She inhales through her nose quietly, almost afraid to say what she was thinking. “Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“I think I finally understand why you do what you do.”
He tilts his head, confused. “You mean with Daredevil?”
“Yeah.” She swallows. “That man was crazy. Unhinged. I don’t think I ever… felt evil like that, despite that one time I met Fisk. I understand why you… want to protect this city now. I can see the… the void that’s suffocating this place.”
His heart broke hearing how scared she sounded, and started to become mad at himself over it. He sighs. “I didn’t want you to see that side.” He replies, coming up to wipe a stray tear off her cheek. “I wanted to keep that from you as much as I could.”
“B-But why?”
“Well, you’re daughter. You’re the only good thing that’s come out of my mistakes over the years. Even though I never had a good thing going with your mother, she still gave me something I’ll cherish until I die.”
“But, my m-mother–”
“Enough about Mary. I’ve long forgotten about her.” He said, squeezing her hand delicately. “My only priority in life right now is keeping you safe as long as I can. And…” He smiles. “I’m going to be better about listening to what you have to say. So promise me you'll help me out with that.”
She raises an eyebrow. “You’re actually willing to put your pride away?”
He chuckles. “What can I say? I’m stubborn.”
Kaila couldn’t hold back a fond grin. “Well, you know what my great-grandma says…”
“‘You gotta watch out for those Murdock boys’.” He replies, remembering her saying that like it was yesterday. “Lucky for you, you seemed to escape that.”
She hums in disagreement. “I don’t know. Just because I’m not a boy doesn’t mean I escaped the ‘Murdock Curse’. I’m still stubborn as hell and looking for trouble.”
“Don’t do that.” He lightly pinches her in the arm.
“Ow. Okay, I won’t do that.”
“Good.” His smile faltered slightly. “Are we good now?”
“Dad, I couldn’t stay mad at you if I could.” Her expression grows. “I love you too much.”
He squeezes her hand again. “And I love you more.”
They sat in a comforting silence for a few minutes before the others arrived, plates and drinks in hand.
“We got food!” Foggy announced boisterously. “Frankly it looks like prison food, but it’s edible.”
Kaila laughs loudly at his childish antics. “I’ll eat a sauce packet at this point I’m so hungry.” 
“What do you got?” Matt asked, shifting his weight on the bed to sit straighter.
“Well, let’s see…” The man begins, drifting off into one of his colorful rants.
Kaila’s got a lot of questions about tonight. Some thoughts she needs to share. Some things that need to be done. The first thing she promises herself is she’s going to find out what that dream meant, and who really was that guy who took her away. But her family’s right, she needs to take it easy, relax, heal. She’ll worry about that later.
Right now she’s just going to enjoy the nice moment the universe has granted for her.
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A/N: Jesus that was a long one! Hopefully ya'll enjoyed it... and paid a little attention to some details. Trust me, they'll come handy later. If you think you happened to catch one, let me know, I would love to hear it! :D
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A short one shot fic about Bob’s disguise as Barbra.
Check it out under the readmore.
Alright, moment of truth. Time to see if all the practice and costume tweaking would pay off.
While the possession amulets were extremely handy for going out in public without anyone getting suspicious. 
Since when Bob hid inside her, he was totally hidden from the world. And when she was hidden in Bob, so long as no one saw them switch, their association with each other would be similarly hidden.
It had been getting increasingly clear that this "only one of them existing at a time" thing was not without its own inconveniences. 
In particular, feeding into Bobs cabin fever. 
Cabin fever makes him want to go out more. 
And going out more means more cannibal serial killing.
She doesn't have access to drugs or jail bars to hold him. Her capacity to protect people from him is painfully limited.
So she's been trying to get creative with the damage control.
So came the idea for Barbra.
And the disguise has been made, and the acting has been practiced. The backstory, hopefully memorized.
Now all that was left was a test run.
They parked the truck in front of a small, nowhere sort of bar. Place where there shouldn't be many people, generally a bit more rough and tumble group without super easy targets, and especially no kids that could get caught in the crossfire.
Though her mind and nerves were still buzzing with everything that could go wrong.
"Alright, tell me again the number one rule of this whole scheme."
Bob rolled his eyes from under his sunglasses, but was more amused at her stressing out than annoyed.
"Don't try huntin or hurtin people while playin Barbra."
"Right. If you act suspicious as Barbra, it puts both of us at risk, because people can use me to track down the house to catch us unawares. Then we're either in prison or on the run with no money. Or possibly dead if someone tracks us down who doesn't care to take you in alive."
They start walking towards the bar as she continues.
"So remember, you're Barbra Freeman, a butch lesbian truck driver, but you got in a car accident awhile ago, and had been recovering for a few months. You're wearing sunglasses even while indoors cus the accident left you with a light sensitivity. Just, smalltalk, and not being suspicious."
"Sugarcube, I spent years playin innocent with nobody suspecting a thing. I know how to play nice."
"Yeah and that was awhile ago and you're clearly years out of practice, because in all the time I've known you, you've just been a deeply weird and unsettling person.
Also you're in public in costume Barb, Use the Barbra voice, don't break character."
Already she was losing confidence in Bob's ability to follow the plan. Though Bob, if anything, seemed overconfident. He switches up his tone to a more feminine sounding one, snaking an arm over her shoulders and teasing.
"Right, I'm supposed to be your hot piece of arm candy today. Well, I wouldn't want to deprive ya of a bit of extra time alone with your girlfriend."
She had liked how he hadn't had any problem with disguising himself as a woman. After all it'd be a pretty big insult to write off your whole gender as something gross and embarrassing. Though him being a bit too into it is something her asexual antisocial ass doesn't really know what to do with. 
Least beyond getting embarrassed by it. Which in turn gets a chuckle out of Bob. 
They head in, and Bob confidently goes to take a seat at the bar, while she takes a moment to nervously scope the place out. There were a few people, not too crowded, not to empty. And they don't seem to be turning many heads.
Before going and taking a seat next to him.
Where Bob puts his arm back around her to mumbles in her ear.
"Loosen up honeymuffin, or you'll be the one making us look suspicious."
Yeah, he's right. They're supposed to at least be friends. Even in a relationship in order to explain away if Bob gets too affectionate. 
She tries taking a deep breath and calming down.
Just order something nonalcoholic and chill for awhile. Try to make some small talk. 
Despite how terrible she is at small talk in general.
Though Bob was already well aware of her not being the chatty sort. So he takes more the lead for talking with the bartender, and with her.
Though really that more ends up with him teasing her while she tries not to look too embarrassed.
At least Bob could do a pretty convincing imitation of a tough middle aged southern woman though. 
Still a relatively deep voice, but not so overt that it couldn't be passed off as "Barbra" having just being a big woman who used to smoke.
She had the feeling he'd gotten some first hand experience learning a number of nuances, and was probably doing an impression of female relatives or family friends or something from his past. 
Probably from where he'd gotten his own accent, but she didn't like to pry. 
And if she did, now wouldn't be the time for it.
Her head was still on a swivel, despite her attempts to keep it casual. It was hard not to be paranoid. Too many things that could go wrong. Bob was keeping up a conversation with the bartender, so might be a good time to stretch her legs a bit.
"I'll be right back, don't get too crazy without me Barb."
"Heh, you got it darlin."
She went to the back, and thankfully the women's bathroom was empty, so she took a moment to try and calm her nerves and catch her breath. 
It's one thing to be around Bob, worrying what he might do. But it was another to put on a cheerful facade on top of that, instead of being her usual irritable self.
She really didn't want to go back out there, and her mood is only worsened as she mentally scolds herself for her hesitancy.
It's unpleasant, but this is the better of her options. The longer she can keep Bob busy the less time he'll have for killing.
Come on.
Get back out there. 
You have to supervise the serial killer. This is your idea he's going along with. 
Just gotta have him keep his word. Shouldn't be that hard.
And even if it is, no amount of discomfort is worth an innocent persons life.
Suck it up.
She looked at her reflection in the mirror and tried smiling. It didn't last long before her face quickly sunk 
"Uggh, this is what I get for not putting any effort in with those customer service jobs when I had the chance."
Maybe she can still keep attention away from Bob and not clue people in that she's basically a hostage, while still acting like a miserable unpleasant person who'd rather eat gravel than chit-chat about the weather or the news or some shit.
She leaves the bathroom. 
“!!!!” Shit!! Someone's gone to sit with Bob! Looks like some kind of biker guy, on the big and tall side, kinda weathered looking. The kind of guy who could probably take care of himself. Her panic spikes nonetheless. 
Ok, calm down, he's out in public, he's gonna talk to some people. It's expected. Doesn't mean the worst is gonna happen yet. 
Sure he can always just overpower her if he decides to change his mind and not go along with the plan. But that hasn't happened yet.
She goes to sit down at the bar, on the other side of Bob, not interrupting his conversation with the biker guy. Just quietly listening. Supervising.
And…. Dang this dude really is just outright flirting with Bob. Guy must be into large women. 
And Bobs rolling with it. Just liking the attention and teasing the biker guy back.
Well, it's better than Bob getting offended, and he's having fun with it, so this is probably fine so long as it doesn't go anywhere. 
And she expects that this is a pretty solid bit of evidence that the Barbra disguise is working. So guess the experiment is a success. They could probably be seen in more crowded locations without people recognizing Bob.
Get him out wasting time doing random stuff so he's too busy to stalk victims.
Uggh, this means she'll have to get out of the house more to do random stuff too and - HOLY SHIT BIKER GUY JUST ASKED BOB OUT.
She'll have to mourn the loss of her weird hermit life later, because NO WAY IS SHE LETTING BOB TAKE THIS GUY TO NO SECONDARY LOCATION!!!!
Shit! How the heck is she supposed to play this off??? Uuuuuuuggghhhh this is gonna be so embarrassing. 
She puts on a pissed off face and threatens.
"Excuse me pal, that's my girlfriend you're hitting on, and believe fucking me, this…"
She gestures up and down at Bob.
"This lady right here is a lot more than you're prepared to deal with. Come on Barbra."
She grabs Bob by the hand and starts tugging him towards the door, to which Bob smiles and lets himself be led out, while the biker guy just looks kinda flabbergasted at what just happened as they quickly leave the bar.
She walks for a moment, heading towards the truck, still holding onto Bobs hand. 
Before Bob interrupts her anxious mood, saying in his normal voice, though with an additional low suggestive tone layered on, rather than his Barbra affect.
"Yuh know, I think I like you gettin jealous over me for a change."
Her face goes red. And she lets go of Bobs hand.
"Shut up Barb, it's not jealousy and you know it. I just didn’t want you hurting that man."
Bob grabs her hand again to pull her into a hug.
"Fightin over me for other reasons ain't half bad either."
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paalove · 4 months
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just reread nothing to lose and i am once again thinking about "pran doesn’t listen to his parents about much, right?" pran doesn't listen to his parents about much... pran doesn't listen to his parents about much... AHHHHH!!!
also thinking about how the week I finished bad buddy I was like PRAN ELLA ENCHANTED AU and just rotating this in my mind along with that concept. idk if you have read ella enchanted but as a possible prompt— a bad buddy, pran cursed with obedience! au
HEY. YOU SENT THIS MONTHS AGO AND I'VE THOUGHT ABOUT IT WEEKLY SINCE. 🥰
first: thank you ily, im glad you like that tiny little au it's one of my favourite pocket-universes <3
second: main fic coming in... hopefully the next couple of weeks? meanwhile here is a scattered little multi-pov intro to the fic i HAVE been calling "ella enpranted" xoxo
...
“Listen to me, Pran,” his mother says.
He does, because she’s his mother, and he does because he has to.
Concern etched into the lines of her face, deep deep worry and upset in her eyes, she orders him, “Stay away from that boy as much as you can,” and Pran will, because he has to.
As much as he can.
It’s hard to track him down this week – sometimes Pran gets skittish – but Pat finds him on Wednesday! It’s just been art, and Pat is taking the not-allowed-but-whatever shortcut that goes behind and around the weird little separate building that’s been used for art since they switched where all the languages rooms are, and there-
“Pran!” he calls, running over.
As he does, Pran’s head jerks up and he looks over and his eyes go wide, face startled, but he doesn’t look mad so Pat knows he’s only stashing his books away because he likes an escape route, he’s not mad at Pat.
So, Pat grabs the folder furthest from Pran and picks it up, flipping through and seeing a bunch of physics notes in Pran’s neat handwriting and smooth, black ink, because Pran never seems to have a pen go dry in the middle of writing anything, it’s all so even and careful.
Pran reaches out for it, then his hand freezes like an inch away from it and he says, “Pat, give that back.”
“No,” Pat says, but he’s smiling at Pran and Pran smiles back.
Shaking his head and turning – saying with his shoulders I’m not waiting for you and saying with the half smile but you can follow me if you want, I guess, it’s whatever – Pran says, “I need the folder back at some point.”
“I’ll give it back later,” Pat agrees.
Pran runs off when he doesn’t have something hostage, but he’s never mad about Pat taking his stuff. It’s just a game they play.
“Has someone told you to do something you don’t want to?”
She’s genuinely concerned, he knows that.
But she hasn’t ordered him to be honest, so he’s got enough leeway to not say you, Mae, it’s always you, because that would hurt her feelings and it wouldn’t change anything anyway, and Pran instead says, “The teacher assigned us both to be in the band,” and lets her remember all that trial and error, years ago, when they had to figure out how the orders worked.
Pran’s parents know that his too-powerful, too-flighty aunt’s gift was for them, so their orders normally take precedence over anyone else’s; they also know that their later orders take precedence over earlier ones, unless they specifically build something in, like telling him to disregard later ones that contradict the one they’re making right now. This pause is, he’s sure, letting his mother remember telling him to always consider teachers’ orders to outweigh all but a select few of her own.
Of course, most of what Pran’s figured out, he hasn’t told them.
Or even written down.
It’s safer to keep what he knows to himself.
His mother closes her eyes, nods, and says, “I suppose it couldn’t be avoided at that school.”
Pran wishes he had any way of stopping what comes next.
Dissaya’s son is honest, kind, and good.
Those are things she knows about him, things that she needs to protect and nourish and help to grow, and things that can’t be poisoned in him the way they were in her. She doesn’t like making him sad, dragging him away from his friends, but Pran is so vulnerable.
Moreso because of the gift.
It made her heart freeze in her chest the first time she saw him on the playground, some smaller child cheering him on, Higher! Higher, and the face of frozen fear on Pran’s face not even slightly getting in the way of how high he was swinging-
She still shudders to think of it.
Her sister-in-law was unrepentant when she called. Of course a gift of obedience doesn’t stop at the walls of their household, she’d laughed, but it’s always going to be stronger for family, isn’t that nice?
It’s not in her nature to yell, really, especially not at her husband’s beloved little sister, but she made an exception that day.
And then she had started to plan.
The idea that her careful planning and careful instructions to Pran haven’t been enough, haven’t kept him safe…
She’s never a coward except when it comes to Pran.
Dissaya sends him away.
It’s not written down, not anywhere, but Pran has a list of things he knows to be true about his gift.
His parents’ gift.
If his parents tell him, directly, to do something, he can’t help but do it. There’s no resisting directly, from the second he hears the order he begins to carry it out.
Physically impossible orders are an absolute exception – they arrive at Pran’s ears like normal, non-magical words, just the way a normal sentence works for anyone else on earth. He won’t try to fly if someone tells him to.
If anyone outside his family tells him directly to do something possible, it depends on what his parents have said first, but normally… he has to do it.
Pat telling him to race counts.
Pat whining at him to stop ignoring him also counts.
Pran has some leeway in deciding what counts.
In fact, Pran decides what an order means. He can know his parents meant one thing, but if the actual words they used mean something else… Pran can pick, kind of. Only kind of. He’s been experimenting with those limits for years.
The final part of it, the part that he’s known from the start and can never let himself forget or forgive, is the part that’s least useful and most essential.
8. It’s not a gift.
Because Pran has those old orders – keep yourself safe, don’t hurt others, and always prioritise teachers over other kids – and they make something like a shield, but one that it hurts to hold. The order to ignore other people’s orders no matter what never, never worked.
They must be physically impossible. Or something like that.
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