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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 5 months

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You don’t get to tell me about sad

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a/n part two! Thank you for everyone who read the first one. So glad some of you liked it so much. 🫧🤍

summary: Azriel gets an assignment he can’t seem to decline. Now he has a princess full of attitude under his protection. The only question is whose cold heart will break first.

warning: past trauma, scars

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“No threats, nothing," Azriel dropped the report down on the table. Rhys had been the one to go meet with Autumn’s high lord. Bringing back the reports of everything that had been happening the past three days. “Eris said that everyone still thinks she’s there," Rhys stated. They planned on spinning a lie about you visiting an old relative, but it was better if the people who had inflicted the first attack would be misled about your true location.

“This could have been a one-time thing," Cassian hums, flipping through the report himself. “Or someone is waiting for the right moment," Rhys links his fingers together, resting his chin on them. “Why her?”, Cassian frowns. Yeah, Azriel asked that too at first. You didn’t seem to be magically gifted. There was nothing special about you, as far as he was aware. “Eris said she’s a weak link," the spymaster muttered.

“They’re close? That would explain things," and Cassian was right there. Love might be the worst weapon to have. Once, it slipped into the wrong hands. Azriel let out a sigh.

“Considering how he delivered the news, he loves her a lot. I believe, besides Lucien, she’s the closest to him." If he was being truthful, he hadn’t given it much thought. Here in Velaris, he could leave you on your own devices for the most part, at least. He didn’t need to trail after you. There was no need. Azriel had eyes almost everywhere.

“We’ll figure something out. I will ask around to see if something is stirring." Rhys leans back, his eyes now fixed on Azriel, “How are you?”. Azriel tries to hold back to not roll his eyes. “I’ve been fine for two weeks ago." And he was. Yes, his left side still hurt. The scar was deep and rather long. Rapping around his ribcage. Not to mention that he had pulled the stitches out way too many times. “Don’t start this," Rhys says bluntly.

“I could be up at the camps doing what I do best," Azriel points out. Itching to pick this topic back up. “Dying in the snow?"—that was a straight blow from his brother. Rhys hadn’t been able to say it out loud for the first couple of weeks. The thought of Azriel dying had messed with his head. “I said no, so it’s a no. Plus, you have a new responsibility," Rhys states firmly, and Azriel knows that there is no use in nagging him any further. “Counting days till she’s out of my sight," he mutters beneath his breath, standing up to leave. He just forgot to mean the words he spoke.

Velaris was different from what you had imagined it to be. In a good way, but it still wasn’t home. The ever-green trees almost bugged you. It was all too alive. Too bright. You missed the deep oranges. The crunching of the leaves beneath your feet. Rhys tried to be a caring host by giving you an autumn-themed room, but that only left a bitter taste in your mouth. So even if you had been advised by their healer to keep all weight off your swollen ankle for a while, you still found yourself, pulling away the decorations and shoving away the autumn theme blankets, the little trinkets.

You tried to keep out of everyone’s hair. Choosing to take your food into your room. But the four walls were starting to drive you mad. You had tasted freedom, and you didn’t want to be back there. Locked up. Hidden. Forgotten. So when your eyes landed on the two males sparing in the front yard, you, of course, first observed them from your window. Watching through the curtains and then pushing back.

“You should be resting your leg," Azriel hadn’t even turned to face you when his voice found you. A slight smirk tugging at your lips. He had been avoiding you. Or maybe you were too full of yourself. Maybe he was just busy. There was no requirement for him to be at your side twenty-four-seven.

“You’re a shit bodyguard if you didn’t know that I've been doing just that for the past three days," you muse, stepping closer to the racks of weapons that line their training ground. Fingers l brushing over a set of onyx black daggers. “Madja said at least a couple of weeks," Azriel points out, reaching to rewrap his knuckles. “And I said that I'm bored, and now we are here," you purr, lifting one of the daggers, feeling out the weight as you twist your wrist. You could feel Azriel’s eyes. Watching you. Following your every move.

“Or you just wanted a closer look at this“, the male next to him, who you had come to learn was Cassian, smirks, gesturing to his bare chest. Abs glistening with sweat. Yeah, the view wasn’t bad. Autumn males, at least the ones you know, didn’t compare. “And I thought this one was full of himself." You hooked your thumb at Azriel, rolling your eyes.

He shakes his head, “Would it hurt you to say my name?”, "Yes, Mr. Tree, trunk up my ass." You give him the most obnoxious smile you could master. Earning a deep growl from the spymaster in return. Until your eyes landed on the wooden bow, neatly placed on the ground by the buckets of water. “I want to shoot arrows," you mutter, pointing to the weapon, making Azriel’s gaze follow suit.

He let out a small snort, “Have you ever held a bow in your delicate hands?”. That prick. You narrowed your eyes at him. "Oh, news flash, he is also a sexist,” you hiss. Rounding his side to reach for the arrows. “I just don’t want you falling and tripping once again, princess," he teases in an almost mocking tone. You step closer to him. You doubt that he finds you intimidating, considering that you need to look up to even meet his gaze. But your face stays ice cold as you point to the bow, “Give it to me." He doesn’t move at first. As if on purpose. Giving you extra time to look at him. His face. There is a light scar over his right eyebrow. It’s not all that visible. Unless you take your time to… but, your little daydream is cut short by a bow being shoved at your chest. You nearly lose your footing. And just like that, you are snapped out of your daze.

“Don’t start crying when you miss," Azriel says, too full of himself as always. Leaning on the side beam like a smug, fucking cat. Too bad you grew up among five arrogant males. Six if you include that sadist of a father. That’s enough for the amber to catch fire deep within your chest. You line the arrow up. Taking a deep breath. Eyes falling to the target at the edge of the field ahead. And then it’s muscle memory as you let it loose. The first one hit the bull's eye. A satisfied smile speeds on your face as you reach for the second and third. You’re petty like that. Not in the mood to give Azriel a chance to call it fool’s luck.

A loud chuckle fills your ears, and then someone is nudging your shoulder. “She handed you your ass on a silver plate, brother." Cassian’s laughter booms, and you can’t help but match his grin. “Choke on the dust," you muse, flipping him off as you twist away from him. But Azriel is quick as always, grasping your elbow as he spin you back. “Know your place," he says through gritted teeth. Nostrils flaring.

“Maybe you should show me my place," you mutter, crossing an x on his chest. You yank your hand from his grip, glancing at Cassian, “Put the dog on the leash." Azriel curses, making Cassian snort, before the general starts barking, moving to the side to tackle his brother. You shake your head, continuing to walk away. Only catching a faint warning from Azriel, “Don’t fucking encourage it.”

Azriel chose to leave you alone for the rest of the day. Yet he could deny it all he wanted, but the shots were clean. Not to mention that he was almost relieved that you had left your room. A burden or not, he didn’t want you just rotting between the four walls. So he’s not all that surprised when your figure steps out onto the balcony. A lantern in your hand. One that you carefully place on the ledge before placing your hand on the stones. Stepping on your tiptoes, leaning to look over the edge.

"Snooping", the sudden sound of his voice makes you jump, your elbow hitting the lantern and pushing it over the edge. “You’re insane. Absolute sociopath," you gasp, hand on your chest as you try to wipe the threat from your face.

“You’re pathetic if that made you scared," Azriel shrugs, stepping out for the shadows. It wasn’t pathetic. He knew that. If he didn’t want to be seen, no one would see him. So blaming this on you was lame, but he could excuse it. For now. “You’re a creep," you hiss, leaning over the edge to look for the broken glass, now scattered on the ground. “Who sits in the dark like that?”, you ask, shaking your head and pulling your ginger hair over to one side. Fidgeting with the ends. That’s a new habit, Azriel thinks to himself, one he hadn’t yet observed.

You just shake your head once you don’t receive an answer from him. Eyes darting up the sky. It’s almost pitch black. The last traces of orange and deep purple are coloring the very edges of the horizon. “The sky is beautiful here as well," you breathe out. Not sure why. It felt stupid to get sentimental with that crazy man behind you. “It is," Azriel admits, forcing his eyes from your frame to lift to the sky. But the stars only manage to hold his attention for so long. Before they glance right back down at you, Azriel can’t tell from your face, but he feels the wave of sadness crashing into his chest.

And not even a heartbeat later you speak up again. “I usually take walks with the dogs in the evening, so... old habits die hard. I feel the itch." It’s an almost bitter chuckle that slips past your lips as you speak. Azriel walks close to the railing. “I feel the same if I don’t get to work late at night," he’s not sure why he’s even saying that. Admitting something that you don’t need to know. Or probably care to know. Your nose screeches up. “That’s a weird thing to like," you mutter. Azriel rolls his eyes, “Stomping through the woods isn’t any better.”

The breeze picks up. Chasing the last bits of warmth away. Making you wrap your arms around yourself tighter, but you don’t step back. Don’t move to head inside. “So, you’re a working late and sleep-in type of guy," you mutter. Azriel realizes it then. You’re here because you don’t want to be alone. Force-pushing the conversation to keep someone else in your company. Flashes of the basement flicker through his mind.

“No, I wake up early," he answers, a heartbeat too late, and yet you’re still nodding along. “So, no sleep type of guy," you mutter beneath your breath. The darkness is now fully draping over you two. Hiding you both from the world. “And you’re a talk just to listen to yourself speak type of girl," Azriel points out, making you huff. “And here, I thought we were having a moment." He watches as you turn around, shaking your head. “Jumping to conclusions kind of girl too," he says firmly, and this time it’s enough to drag a little chuckle from your lips as your head falls back ever so slightly.

But the distant pain doesn’t leave your eyes when you glance back at him. “Did Eris say anything by any chance?”, you mutter. A part of Azriel considers lying. Twisting the truth. A white lie. But he can’t bring himself to. Too many people were already keeping you in the dark, so he mutters a quiet, "No." Watching as you nod way too eagerly at his answer, “Of course, delighted to get rid of the troublemaker," there was that pained smile at the end as you finally chose to spread the distance between you two. “Lucien is coming tomorrow, though," Azriel points out, your tense shoulders easing ever so slightly. You don’t say anything as you reach for the glass door.

“Are you going to sleep?”, Azriel asks, almost cringing himself out. What was this sound of desperation? He didn’t fucking care what you did. “Not yet. I will walk in the garden for a bit." You gesture to the fields wrapping around the house. Azriel nods firmly, “Keep to the upper parts; don’t go past the rose garden if you get by the white... ”, “Okay, okay, mother... Tie me to your chair and watch me wilt away while you’re at it," you huff, your lips thinning into a tight line. “I’ll finish some work and come to do a room sweep," the spymaster says in an almost demanding manner. You simply raise your hand to your forehead, saluting him with a quiet “Yes, sir," before disappearing into the house.

It took Azriel way longer to get through his usual routine. He liked his office tidy for his morning working session. So at night, even if he was tired to his bones, he made the effort to sort through every pile of documents. Arrange them neatly. When he finally made it up to the top floor, where your room was located, it was well past midnight. Azriel knew that he could just drop it. He didn’t have to show up and check the room. Yet he still stood there right by your door.

"Princess," he knocked gently, not really in the mood to startle you once again tonight. You might be small and fierce, but everyone has a limit. When no response follows, he tries again: "Yn, it’s Azriel, can I come in?”, but still nothing. He could just walk in, but you weren’t a prisoner per se. “This is your last warning," he says, waiting for a heartbeat before pushing onto the handle.

It was dead quiet in the room. He would have concluded that you might not have returned yet if not for the mess that your bed was. He frowns slightly. Following the line of blankets that lead to the fireplace. And here you are. Curled by the fire, all the blankets dragged from the bed. Piles of books scattered all around you. He didn’t know that you had gone to the library. Or maybe this was Nesta’s doing. In that case, he didn’t wish to find out what was written in them. Azriel scannes the room. His eyes fell on the pens and pencils on the table. A sketchbook. A strange feeling kindled in Azriel’s chest. He has a pad just like that. Kept it in his leathers. So if he feels the urge or if something captures his attention begging to be sketched, he could easily do so.

Azriel steps closer, trying not to leave evidence of looking through your stuff. It makes him uneasy just how close you are to the fireplace, but then. Flame calls to flame. He knows that he should turn away. Just leave you be. There’s no danger here. He knows it. But he finds himself stepping forward, kneeling by your body. He hasn’t seen you so peacefully innocent before. He only knew the frowning, tantrum-throwing princess.

Tilting his head to the side, he tries to drink your features in. You were a Vanserra. The resemblance to Eris and Lucien was there. But a much softer version. With freckles all over your face. Long eyelashes. Your hair was more ginger than fire-red. But then his gaze halted. Your left shoulder was bare. The very top of your breast... a scar. It was a scare that made him halt. On your collarbone. And then two lines going beneath your shirt. Azriel’s scowl only deepened at the sight of one more white line at the side of your throat. “What did they do to you?", he mutters quietly. But it’s enough to make your eyes snap open as you jolt up. And once again, there’s a dagger aimed at Azriel’s throat, this time from the side. The very tip pressing into his flesh.

“What the fuck?", you huff, lowering your hand. “That’s a much better aim. You’re learning fast, princess." Azriel tries to keep his face cool as he steps back. Standing tall. “Why are you here standing over me like that?”, you scowl, pulling the blanket tighter over your shoulders.

“I just came to check the room," Azriel says, moving his gaze to the window. Anything was better now than looking into your burning eyes. “And decided that you can just let yourself in," you say, pushing to stand up. “You were on the floor by the fire; who knows, maybe you were lying there dead?", Azriel bits back, gesturing at the mess you had created. It was embarrassing that he had seen it. No one was supposed to see it. A bitter laugh slips past your lips, “You wish that would be...", and in a blink of an eye, he is there. Inches away from you. Hand reaching for your hair. No doubt he had thought about just yanking it back but decided against it at the last minute.

“Don’t finish that," he says, opting for a warning finger once more. As if he’s scolding a child. “Or what?", you flash your teeth at him. Pretending to bite the very tip of his finger. “You love picking fights, huh?", he straightens, smothering his hair back. The slight curls falling over his forehead. “You love changing the subject, huh?”, you mock back in the same tone. “You might just be one of the most frustrating things that came out of autumn," and you can see that he probably didn’t even mean to say it out loud. But he did. And now you two were standing in the aftermath of it. Your hands curling into fists. “Thing...", you smile at him, “How sweet of you; ladies probably drop their pants for that," and here it was that cold, cold look on your face. "Out," you hiss, now pointing Azriel to the door. Dismissing him.

The next morning is rather awkward. Azriel finds you in the sunroom of the house. Your legs tugged beneath you. You don’t lift your head, and he says nothing. Taking his usual spot by the window to drink his coffee. It unsettles him. The silence. He doesn’t want you to feel like he’s some creepy stalker. Maybe you both should settle the ground rules. Talk about the situation. But once he finally finds the courage to open his mouth, the door opens. A gasp slips past your lips as you jump up, rushing to the male standing in the doorway.

"Luci," you breathe, wrapping your arms around your brother’s neck. The warmth he carried seeping into your body. “My little flicker," he mutters against your hair, leaving a couple of kisses on the side of your head. "Azriel," Lucien nods in acknowledgment. Azriel follows his movement. “I’ve got it from here”, Luci smiles at the spymaster, rubbing his hands up and down your back.

“What’s going on?”, you mutter against his chest, refusing to let go. “What did Eris say?”, your brother asks, and it’s enough to make you pull back. “I don’t give a fuck about what he said," you grunt. “I want to know what you know," you demand. You have a full right to. Lucien holds your gaze for a moment before letting out a tired sigh, “We will be heading back for a bit." You shake your head, turning away from him.

“I will tell you as soon as I can, I promise," he says as he steps forward, holding you by your shoulder as he lowers his forehead to lean against you.“Why are we going back?” It’s a whisper, but blood runs thicker than water. And you need to stick together, as you always did. Even if you still don’t understand anything, “There is a public outing. He needs us by his side." That makes you chuckle, “I also needed him by my side in case anyone was wondering.”.

"Yn," Lucien sighs, but you shake your head. “You don’t get to make me feel bad for him." It’s selfish, you know that. But they had sworn to protect you, and this feels like the opposite of it. “He’s figuring this out too; be kind," Lucien mumbles, pulling your hands into his and squeezing them. “Come on, you’ll get to watch the joy on Azriel’s face when I tell him that he’ll have to spend a couple of nights in autumn," he nudges you, making you smile ever so slightly, “Now that I can get behind”.

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Taglist: @emryb

#azriel acotar imagine #azriel x oc #eris x azriel #azriel x you #azriel imagien #azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotar x reader #acotar imagine #acotar x you #acotar x oc #lucien vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x you

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poppy-s-rampage · 1 month

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Once a Hero.

-Prologue-

Danny Phantom fought with the knowledge that at any given time he could be stricken dead. With the knowledge that his own parents, the people who brought him into this world, could be the ones to take him out permanently. The Job was already half done after all.

But no matter what, no matter his adversaries, Danny held strong. Despite the constant threat of the GIW and his parents, despites his rogues’ shenanigans and Vlad’s scheming, despite the citizen’s ungratefulness, he held his ground. Always staying true to his beliefs.

Yes, he made mistakes ,terrible ones. Yes, he has done things he would forever be ashamed of. But he never let others take responsibility for his actions. The very proof being his existence as Phantom.

There is no denying it, Danny Phantom/Fenton is a hero.

An existence to whom every victory comes hand to hand with tragedy.

An existence favored by fate.

And fate is known to be a cruel mistress.

~~~

He should have known something was up. It was too good to be true. He should have trusted his instinct. But he ignored it, choosing hope instead of the very thing that kept him alive all these years. All it took was one mistake for everything to domino into a nuclear warhead that quite literally took his everything.

And now, there he is on all four in the middle of a crater of what once was Amity Park and its surroundings. His ears ringing only able to hear the sounds of his own screams.

The once menace, once protector of a city too soon departed wailed in agony. Clutching at his wounds with a strength that reopened his sloppily made stitches. His devastated wails, only interrupted by his sobbed breath and hiccups. His throat was ripped to shreds, tainted ectoplasm pooling into his mouth and lungs while some got projected out with each wail.

Rivers of tears cascaded down his face burning his already bloodshot eyes. His unstable form glitching from ghost to human to something in between.

His once healthy balanced core was now struggling to remain whole. Cracks appearing all over, life and death fighting to preserve their precious Halfa’s existence. Danny felt his body and core beginning to give out. His consciousness finally fading. His body slowly being engulfed into the cold familiar embrace of death.

He fell on his back. His wails dying to choked wet sobs and coughs. Through his tears, Danny could only vaguely see the smoke covered nightsky. Ash falling slowly around him like snowflakes.

He could feel the cold creeping up his limbs then gripping his chest. His already dying heart being embraced by a type of cold even his core couldn’t dream to reproduce. Phantom finally fell silent, his unseeing eyes staring at the starless sky above.

Danny in his last few coherent thoughts felt the pain of his core shattering and reforming itself. It felt like his entire being was set on fire before being melded back together. He felt familiar arms cradling him close to their unbeating heart. The familiar ticking of a clock luring him into a dreamless rest.

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Masterpost!

Chapter 1!

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Author notes:

My brain vomiting this at 3 am. I am sorry for any catastrophic grammar and english, that would be my brain short circuiting from lack of sleep. I intend to hopefully continue this story wherever it may go. You’re welcome to suggest anything or add yourself something to it.

#dcxdp #dp x dc #dpxdc #angst #i wrote this at 3am give me some slack #Let's see how much trauma I can fit in such a small body #How much emotional damage can I inflict to almost every character of his story?#Fluff becomes sweeter after some gut wrenching angst #Don't worry I am not anything near Gege or Spider-man writers #I am shit at writing #There needs to be an equilibrium between angst comedy and fluff.#I like happy endings but I need to make it worth it #I need your tears laugh or smiles to survive #My brain chose depression deal with it #That aside hope you enjoyed the read #once a hero #prologue #Poppywrites!

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starcrossedxwriter · 3 months

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Wicked Fantasies Part 11.2 (MBJ x Black OC)

A/N: Long awaited and well over due. This is basically chapter 12 but it really connects to 11.1. Nothing to say except enjoy!

“Michael, stop messing with the fuckin’ cuff links!” Alex called over to him from her spot on the couch. “I thought you weren’t nervous??”

Michael cut his eyes toward his agent before forcing his fingers away from the gold cufflinks near his wrist. That had been his original claim when he arrived at his suite to get ready, proudly boosting that he did not feel nervous at all. And some part of him had believed that was true. But as makeup ended and he got dressed, the nerves started to settle in. Tonight was no longer some distant potential achievement. It was here and now. And his shoulders were starting to feel the weight of that pressure. He tried his best to remain excited and upbeat but there were some ticks he simply couldn’t hide.

“Ha ha. I’m just… you know, already ready for it to be over. Gotta sit through 100 fuckin’ awards before they get to mine. Just gonna be a long night.”

“Whatever you say,” she muttered, her face scrunching up at her phone for a minute.

“Somethin’ wrong?” his antenna going up immediately, anxiety that something had already gone wrong seeping into his confident facade. “Fuck… You think we should’ve gone with the other suit, don’t you??”

“Nigga… they’re both black tuxes, calm down. No one’s ever looked at you to be the pillar of fashion. You look great, that’s all that matters. Just taking care of some last minute details, boring shit you wouldn’t be interested in.”

Michael knew not to press any farther as she immediately changed the subject, standing up and starting to walk over to him. He watched as she studied the time on her phone screen for a moment as his stylist’s assistant slid on the tailored jacket for his suite.

“Can someone check on his mom? Jason went to check out the space and it’s ready for photos. We gotta start in 10 though if we want to make it to the carpet.”

“I’ll go.”

He was thankful his mom agreed to accompany him on such a momentous occasion, she was the only date he could fathom taking as the woman he wanted was unavailable.

Raven.

Some fantasy that she would call or text him good luck drove him to check his phone every 20 minutes or so, praying for anything that signaled that she thought of him as he did her. She tortured his every waking thought, even after agreeing to give her the space she desperately wanted and needed. But his soul did not want space, his soul wanted their better half, the person who made all of this worth something.

He shook his head for a moment and forced her to the back of his brain, where he knew she would only stay for a short while. No more than 10 minutes would go by before someone or something reminded him of her. But when he thought of her too long, the sparse stitches holding those wounds together tore open and blood flowed earnestly from them. And such emotional agony would not stand on the biggest night of his career. So he forced a smile onto his face and thoughts of a love he would likely never have again behind the barriers around his heart and knocked on the door to his mother’s room.

However, he was not prepared to find her still clad in the lounging set Raven and he had bought her for Christmas, completely unprepared to attend the biggest night in Hollywood.

“Ma, what’s wrong? We gotta leave soon. Why aren’t you dressed?”

“Well I didn’t want to worry you while you were getting ready but I’m just not feeling well. I don’t think I can make it all evening. I’m sorry, baby.”

Michael’s face fell ever so slightly at the disappointment, though he tried his hardest to hide it. It was not his mother’s fault that she was not feeling well and even he knew the rest of the day would be tiresome and exhausting for even those in good spirits. So he did not want her trying to suffer through on his account. However, he would not pretend that it did not sting, to know that he would not have anyone there to support him, hold his hand. That he would spend tonight… completely alone.

Her renewed apologies made him fix his face immediately, knowing that she likely already felt badly for canceling on him. He had no interest in making her feel any worse.

“I really am sorry, baby. But I wasn’t the date you wanted to take anyway,” she chuckled, her eyes filled with sympathy.

Those makeshift barriers dissolved into nothing stronger than paper at her words. And as flimsy as they originally were, they were all he had to hold onto to get through tonight.

“Don’t apologize, ma. Really no big deal at all. You should rest. And you know you’re always my favorite date. Besides, your love is the reason I’m here. You’ll always be my #1,” he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. When her eyes, unsurprisingly, filled with tears, Michael chuckled a bit. “Don’t cry on me. Alex will kill me for messin’ up this makeup.”

She took a tissue and whisked away the pools of tears in her eyes before adjusting his bowtie.

“You know how proud I am of you? How lucky I am to be your mom? I thank God for you, your sister, and your brother every day. And all I’ve ever wanted for each of you is to live out your dreams and be happy. No matter what you do or who you’re with. Just that. Tonight you’re seeing God’s manifestation of your dreams and win or lose, I couldn’t be prouder of you. But even I know, only one person could make you truly happy tonight. That facade might fool the world but not me. I saw how happy she made you, Bakari. How she turned my scared little boy into a brave and vulnerable man without even trying. I may have gotten you here but her love and adoration and the love you have for her will keep you here. Will help you reach dreams I couldn’t even comprehend for you. And that’s a woman I’ll happily step into the #2 spot for any day.”

“Thanks ma… but I don’t think she wants that spot anymore… wants me anymore. Hell, I don’t even know where she is in the world.” The resigned smile on his face and the humorless laugh could not hide the depths of his sadness as he recalled the message he received from David letting him know that Raven boarded a flight to only God knows where. He had failed and even tonight could not take his mind off the 101 ways he failed the love of his life. “I screwed up. Gotta accept the consequences. I wanna be the man you raised and the man she thought she fell in love with. Even if I don’t get to be that for her.”

“Give it time, Bakari. You know what I always reminded you three. Everything meant for you will come to you or find its way back to you. God never denies what he ordained as yours, sweetheart. Something to remember for more than one reason tonight.”

There was a certain mischievous glint in her eyes that did not match the typical motherly tone in her voice. “More than one reason” stuck out in his brain.

What the fuck does that even mean?

“What do you me-?” he started to ask when his mother cut him off.

“Oh gosh, you know I didn’t even notice the time? You should go, dear. Don’t wanna get in trouble with that Alex, do we?”

Realizing that it was almost showtime forced his confusion right out of his brain as he forced himself to focus on the moment, his moment.

“Nah we don’t. She’s terrifyin’,” he admitted. “How about you lay down and rest for a while and Allen can take you home when you feel better? Or you can enjoy the suite for the night? Totally up to you.”

“Thank you, baby. I’ll hang out here, let the traffic clear a bit then head to your sister’s. Everyone’s watching there. You look amazing. Can’t wait to see you shine tonight ”

“Thanks, ma. Aight, I should head down to take pictures. Love you.”

He squeezed her hand before she turned around and closed the door of her room behind her.

He walked back to where his team was waiting. The lack of noise and hustle and bustle in the space caught him off guard as he expected to return to the same chaotic space with his team racing around him. However, only Alex stood waiting on him.

“Where’d everybody go?”

“Oh I sent them all downstairs. Figured you wouldn’t mind a couple minutes of peace before the longest night of your life.”

And that was why, of everyone on his team, Alex was one of the few that stood the test of time. She knew him, truly knew him and what he needed.

“Thanks.” He paused as he studied her. “You good?”

Alex had been in the wings of every major career moment in Michael’s life and she typically brought an air of assurance and confidence that put Michael at ease. She was a staple calming force that kept his own anxiety in check. However, tonight? Everything about her seemed off, distracted and anxious in a way that made his empath sensors go haywire. She seemed utterly engrossed in her own phone, which was not unlike Alex but typically she cued Michael in, if nothing else. But tonight, she offered him no insight.

“Yea… just a big night. Want to make sure everything’s perfect,” she muttered. “Come on… Jason says they’re ready for us.”

Michael did not need to be the smartest person in the room to immediately recognize that she was hiding something from him. He knew he would never get it out of her as she was the world’s most secure vault for secrets. And there was a part of him that did not even want to know for fear that it would scare him into skipping the night altogether. What if she already found out that he lost? If anyone in his orbit was part of some dark Hollywood back channel, Alex would be it. Or something happened to Raven and she did not want him to lose his shit right before the event. Because they both knew he would drop all of this in a heartbeat for her. Foolish? Perhaps but that was how he knew he had found true love, his soul mate. Because nothing in this life was as important as her and he would drop all of it to rush to her side if she asked. But she would never ask, because she did not consider herself worthy of sacrifices, which only served as fuel to spend everyday proving to her that she was.

Why did he even try not to think of her? Somehow, every thought was merely the first step down a path that led right to Raven’s doorstep.

He trailed slightly behind Alex as she led him to the elevator. However, before she hit the button, she stopped.

“Oh shoot. I need to stop by my suite. Forgot somethin. It’s just down the hall, it’ll take two minutes. Got a gift for you for your big night. A little good luck charm.”

“Alex, you know you didn’t need to get me shit.” And he truly meant that. He was just grateful to have Alex in his corner, her presence and commitment to his career was a gift in and of itself. “And send me the bill for your suite. Would’ve just gotten it for you.”

“Nah, it’s all good. It was last minute and I only got it for convenience, really.” She used her key to open the door and held it open so Michael could walk inside.

However, as she opened the door, her usual resting bitch face (Alex’s words, not his) turned into a bright grin, one that she clearly tried desperately to minimize but couldn’t. And while Michael had expected flowers or a gift basket or even a bottle of his favorite rum, now he wondered if the gift was something far bigger than that. What he did not expect, when he turned the corner into her suite’s sitting area, was to find Raven awkwardly fidgeting with her gown as Jason made last-minute adjustments.

“Wha…” His words died in his throat as she turned to face him, his stride stumbling backward in shock as he drank her in.

He could have stood there and stared at her for the rest of the night and it would not have been enough time. Several lifetimes filled with millions of minutes and seconds would hardly scratch the surface of how much time he needed to simply consume her presence, to refill the parts of his soul that had depleted without her.

Beautiful was a gross understatement for her. She was stunning, a goddess plucked from the heavens and placed among lesser men. Michael did not think he had ever laid eyes on a more radiant human being. But it was not her stunning beauty that caused tears to spring to his eyes. It was the look of renewed hope in hers, the smallest flame reignited after it had been utterly extinguished the last time he laid eyes on her. And fuck, that could’ve ended him right then and there. To see hope and light in her again, to see the Raven he had fallen so deeply for, she was all consuming.

She had not even said a word yet but the impact of her choice to be there, to show up for him and choose him after everything conveyed a love words would not be sufficient enough to. The silence stretched on as he studied all the things that had made him fall in love. The soft expectant smile painted on her face as she stared at him that only solidified that she was willing and ready to rebuild with him. The anxious way her eyes glanced down at her own dress and her hands fidgeted that told him she was searching for his confirmation that he still wanted her here or that she looked beautiful, that reminded him of her awkwardness and endless humility that made him fall in love with her in the first place. The way her eyes, the most expressive aspect of her, somehow told him everything he needed to know without uttering a word.

“I-I hope this is ok?” she asked quietly as she broke the silence and expectant tension that blanketed Alex’s suite, snapping Michael out of his speechless trance. “Admittedly, I only gave Alex and Jason like 24 hours notice. So our options were kind of limited b-but they said it would compliment yours a-and likely get me on a best dressed list, which d-doesn’t really matter but could be nice? I dunno though… think I’ve had enough publicity for a lifetime,” she laughed anxiously. “But I don’t know what’s appropriate to wear to the Oscars with the 2023 Best Actor and they do. But I know this probably isn’t what you envisioned when you invited me in January. But don’t blame them. It’s definitely my fault. Lost weight so my measurements weren’t quite right and the time thing. Honestly, give them a raise… well I can’t tell you what to do with your money. But you should…” she glanced over Michael’s shoulder at Alex who was staring at her with a look that simply said, ‘speed the reunion up, sis.’ So Raven cut herself off, her last rambling words falling off. “Consider it…”

“You… you came?”

“I heard you needed a date?”

Michael rarely experienced true speechlessness, the right words rarely eluded him. He usually always knew what to say. His brain was on the verge of explosion with all the things he desperately wanted to say, his deepest proclamations of regret and love sat on his tongue but he just did not know where to start, could not find the place to start.

Meanwhile, Raven had an entire soliloquy of how she was ready to forgive and move forward because she loved him planned out in her mind. But every painstakingly chosen word evaporated from her mind as she looked at him, as she stared at the man her soul had come to recognize as her safest place to be. The one place that did not demand she provide her most perfect words or anything from her at all. It simply demanded, insisted, that she just be.

And now, the words that sprung to her mind were not perfect at all. They were raw, they were broken… they were her vulnerabilities, her fear, her pain, and they were her hope. Her wildest fantasies and her dreams. And she was no longer afraid to express them loudly here. Because he was the one place where she could.

“You remember when I woke up in the hospital and the first thing I said to you was apologizing for not being the girl you wanted? For not being good enough? A-and you told me not to compare myself to h-her… or anyone else. B-”

“Because you’re one of a kind,” Michael finished simply.

“That was one of the nicest things a man… anyone had said to me in so long,” she admitted, her head bowing slightly. “And I didn’t believe it. I wanted to be loved by you so badly, Michael. B-But I couldn’t believe a man like you would ever think I was enough because I wasn’t enough for anyone. I wasn’t right for anyone. A-And I had internalized this narrative that I didn’t deserve love o-or to be happy. That I just deserved some second-rate, half life filled with disregard and pain because other people told me so. A-And when we s-started dating, I finally started to believe that all that hope had been worth something? That maybe I deserved something… better? A-And w-when I saw her, my heart immediately felt like… you were finally admitting it. I wasn’t enough for you either.”

Every punch and injury he sustained playing Adonis Creed paled in comparison to that. He did not know if it was possible to feel worse about what he had done.

“Rae… baby, you gotta know that-“

She held up her hand to stop him, Michael immediately falling silent.

“I know… at the time though? It felt like God confirming everything everyone w-who knew me ever said, t-the fuel for that voice in my head that told me I would never b-be enough, w-was right. And all the ways you showed me I was enough, all the ways you showed up for me… didn’t seem real anymore. And that broke me. So I left, gave you the out I thought everyone who knew me wanted. T-this nuisance out of their lives. But you… you didn’t leave.”

Michael could hear the pure perplexity in her voice, as if the competing voices in her head could not square why he kept reaching out, kept showing up even as she pushed him away.

“Because I love you.”

“Because you love me.” Raven repeated it but Michael could hear it, the recognition that his words were the truth.

“I… um. I don’t believe I deserve you,” Raven said simply. “But for the first time, I know that I want more than whatever life in the shadows I thought I had to have. I know that I don’t want to push away love a-and happiness anymore. A-and I don’t want to push you away anymore. B-Because you are love, safety, comfort… happiness. I want to believe I deserve better? I want… to believe I deserve you. Because when I’m with you…”

Raven let out a shaky exhale that felt like her body starting to expel all those tormenting thoughts she internalized as she finally admitted out loud that this love was everything she always wanted.

“When I’m with you, all I feel is joy. A joy so pure that only something hand crafted by God himself could feel so good. You’re every fantasy I dreamed of but never thought I could have. Since the moment I fell off that damn table like a clumsy fucking idiot, you’ve been my safest place, you’ve been home, and you’ve been one of the few people in my life who’ve loved me unapologetically and loudly.”

She finally closed the space between them, putting herself within arm’s length of him.

“And I owe you an apology for… letting my exhaustion and pent up pain blind me to all the ways you’ve loved me loudly since the day we met. Regardless of how tired a-and exhausted I am from falling and crashing into the rocks, you were always worth climbing back up that mountain. You were always worth a second chance. And I should’ve recognized that far earlier.”

A pressure valve Michael did not even know had formed in his body released at her words. It felt like being able to take a deep breath again.

“So I’m here and I’m still hurt a-and exhausted but I’m ready to do something different, ready to run toward the cliff and take the leap and fall again. And I want to do that with you… If I’m not too late?”

Michael did not even command his legs to move as her confirmation hit his ears. Before either of them could utter another word, she was in his arms. A sweet giggle erupted as he pulled her unexpectedly toward him and crashed his lips against hers. And the peace that brought was unparalleled.

Raven could have melted against him, her soul at ease for the first time in too long as he held her tightly.

The rest of their small audience melted away as their hearts and souls sought to reclaim their other half, their kiss spelling out every ache and pain their brief separation caused. His lips felt so familiar, so much like home, that it almost hurt. Every second in his arms felt as if it mended the fissures of Raven’s heart one by one, stitching her back together intentionally and with such care that it made her want to sob.

Her own foolishness baffled her. How could she have denied herself this? This ethereal, otherworldly type of love. She would never find something comparable with another living soul. Because this insanely perfect man in front of her was it for her. She had never had a real family but in his arms, she could see one and it was everything she had ever dreamed for herself. The emotions of finally accepting, even in objective disbelief, his love for her hit her in waves that gently crashed over her one by one. But she was not overwhelmed like before, drowning beneath them as she fought for air.

This was serenity, gentle waves blanketing her in warmth and care. Such care that it was painful to pull away to catch her own breath.

Was breathing really a necessity right now?? She demanded of herself as his touch set off heat and flames of desire as he touched her. Weeks and weeks of deprivation meant she needed this more than she could describe, needed the physical representation of his love. His touch, his kiss, his devotion to her needs.

She did not even look away from him but her next words were for the pair awkwardly lingering in the room, long forgotten.

“We need 10 minutes.”

Alex groaned, breaking the sexual tension in the room with her annoyance, though she acquiesced far faster than Raven expected. Though she suspected his longtime agent could see a losing battle from a mile away.

“Fine but you really only get 10 minutes. Fuckin’ Oscars not a goddamn industry party. Can’t just roll in whenever we feel like it. And I swear to God… if you fuck on my bed or fuck up your outfits and make up, I’ll spend the rest of my life breaking you two up again.”

And with that, she grabbed Jason by his sleeve and marched out of the suite, leaving the two of them alone. Raven did not even wait for the click of the door to launch herself back into his arms, her fingers working faster than her mind could direct to undress him.

If anyone could see them, she imagined their movements were feral, so frenzied with their carnal instincts that it looked purely chaotic. Raven’s dress was in a crumble at her feet, his suit jacket was somewhere Raven could not even see. Her fingers rushed to undo the buttons of his shirt before abandoning the task for his pants.

“Fuck, why are there so many buttons??” She came up for air long enough to moan in frustration as Alex’s warning rang out in her head.

Only ten minutes. How was that enough time? That was not even a fraction of the time she required to do all the things her brain demanded she do to feel all of him and ensure he felt all of her too.

“Fuck I missed you,” he uttered between kisses as he tried to take her incredibly tight but effective spanx off.

She prayed Alex’s threat was a joke because she did not need a mirror to know her makeup would indeed need more than a light retouch. His kisses were unyielding, sloppy and utterly unrestrained. Their need for each other simply fed off the others and she knew neither would be satiated in ten minutes.

We need to stop, she thought. It was the biggest night of his career. She should stop so he could focus on that, right?

But she couldn’t, didn’t want to.

“I need you,” she whimpered, her desire to be filled far louder than the time clock in her head.

And her voice was so needy that Michael, whose self-control was hanging by a thread, almost gave in.

The only thing that gave him the strength to stop them before neither of them would be able to stop was the knowledge that she deserved more than a 10-minute quickie. She deserved to be devoured with every ounce of his being devoted to and focused on her. No interruptions, no distractions. She was a goddess to be worshiped with every stroke in her heat and that was not a process that could be rushed.

“Baby, baby, baby,” he gently cradled her neck, forcing her to slow down and look at him. His resolve was tested at the lust in her eyes, how her entire body was suddenly flushed with heat. “Fuck…” the words were agony to push out but necessary. “I want you so bad. But not like this.”

Raven, still a work in progress, could not stop the immediate intrusive thought that he did not want her, that she had misread everything. Michael could see it, how her eyes flashed with that fear and insecurity. He would never not want her, he would happily remind her of that every day if necessary. But he knew himself too well. Once he found himself trapped inside her, he would not be able to stop himself. And he wanted to take his time.

“It’s not you. It’s never you,” he brushed her hair behind her ear. “I just… I want more for this than a 10-minute quickie in a hotel room that isn’t even ours. You deserve more.”

Her heart swelled at his words, realizing that he was not even thinking about the clock. He was merely thinking about her. That forced her to calm down a bit, her lust still red hot and flowing but the logical part of her brain was taking control again.

The slight pout on her face made him chuckle and pull her in for another kiss. It was deeper and more sensual, a quiet plea to trust that he would always give her what she needed. Even if not in the exact timing her body desired it.

“Every moment with you counts and I’m not lettin’ anymore pass that I don’t treat you like you deserve. Trust me, I’ll give you what you need, baby girl. It’ll be worth the wait.”

Raven knew he was right. Despite the persistent ache in her core, she knew she could wait for what he planned. It would be far better than a rushed reunion on a couch anyway.

“I trust you. Just make sure your team knows to clear your very packed schedule for the next couple days,” she teased as she stole one last kiss before she tried to put some distance between them. Her body still wanted him desperately and while she trusted him, she was not sure she trusted herself.

But Michael merely pulled her back in and held onto her tighter.

“Oh the world ain’t gon’ see me or you for more than a couple days. I’m all yours.” He winked at her before helping her get her dress back on and his own suit back on. Once he opened the door to let Alex back in, both of them looked exactly as the two had left them, not a hair out of place. Save Raven’s lipstick, which was completely gone.

“Damn… three minutes? Knew you couldn’t be worth the hype,” Alex immediately said as she breezed back into the suite, utterly unbothered by the idea that the two might have fucked just moments prior.

“You always got jokes.”

Alex immediately fired off last-minute directions to the makeup team to fix Raven’s before they prepared for photos and to leave. Though Raven had endured the tedious process of getting ready for awards and premieres before, today was the most hectic yet. But she was not panicked because she stuck close to Michael, who was the picture of ease and calm. He was the eye of this hurricane, the small world that was him purely at ease even when he should not be.

“You nervous?” she asked as the photographer directed her to perch on Michael’s knee before going to switch out the lens on his camera.

He offered her the most sincere smile, his eyes glimmering with all the love and adoration he felt toward her.

“Nah. Why would I be? I already got the most important thing I needed today. Tonight’ll just be a cherry on top.”

***

Raven was beginning to wonder if her return had turned Michael’s hands into magnets. He barely let her go since they walked out of Alex’s suite. She could not help but laugh when Michael only allowed the photographer two minutes of individual photos before he pulled Raven back into his arms. It was not as if she minded one bit, she had so missed this, missed his touch. It was addicting.

“You stare at me any harder, I’m gonna combust,” she joked as they sat in the back of his limo, Raven leaning into his side as she had done so many times before. .

“My bad, my bad. I’m just fuckin’ shocked you’re here.” He weaved his fingers among hers, bringing her hand into his lips. “You know I’m gonna spend everyday making all this shit up to you, right?”

“I know and I also know it’s unnecessary. I won’t lie, I’m still hurt and confused by what happened. But I know we can fix it. I don’t need you to feel guilty for the rest of our relationship either.”

“The rest of our lives,” he softly corrected with a playful shove to her shoulder that made her giggle. Fuck he missed that sound, missed her smile.

“The rest of our lives,” she repeated. “I just need you to love me. That’s it.”

“That’s a given, baby girl.”

She leaned over and pecked him softly on the lips before settling back in his arms.

“So… Can I read your speech?” she asked sweetly, knowing there was a terribly crumbled piece of paper stuffed into his jacket pocket.

“Nope.”

Raven immediately pouted, putting on the playful sad puppy eyes that always got to him.

“Those ain’t gon’ work today, baby. But only cause I can’t show you a speech I don’t have.”

Raven’s eyebrows creased in confusion, immediately assuming that his lack of a prepared speech meant he did not think he would win. How could he think such a thing?

“Michael… You know you’re gonna win. And you’ve scripted all the others. Why didn’t you write one for tonight? I can jot you something down real quick?” she immediately started to look around as if her cell-phone-sized clutch was big enough to secretly contain a pen and paper. “Allen!” She leaned toward the front. “Do you have any paper? Spare receipt?”

“Baby, BABY!” Michael called, gripping her hips to guide her back to her seat and calm her panic. “I didn’t say I didn’t write one,” he clarified. “I said I don’t have it. I just realized that… the scripted speeches are not what I want tonight. Need a different direction. So I gave the speech to Alex before we left.”

Though Raven could guess the reason for a sudden need for a new direction in the 11th hour. But she still found herself asking anyway. “Any reason for this different direction?”

“Just think I should speak from the heart if I win, you know? Like I did in that interview. If I get to go on that stage tonight, wanna do it as the man I’ve become. Dunno if I have your way with words, though. Not nervous about losing but I’m nervous about fuckin’ up up there, not sayin’ the right thing, you know? Or everyone hating it?”

Raven’s eyes softened a bit, always appreciating this vulnerable side of him. She knew how difficult and painful it had been to reveal that side to her and to the world. But she knew he was better for it.

“You don’t need my way with words, baby. You just need yours and yours is poetic, it’s kind a-and loving and true. That isn’t a new direction o-or a new man, Michael. It’s just you. Every moment I’ve known you, that’s just you. You just let me see it and I’m so grateful for it. And you’ve let the world see glimpses of it in the last few months a-and if the response is any indication, the world is grateful too. You’re not nervous about saying the wrong thing. Going out there without the armor you’ve built to protect yourself is just scary. But it’s worth it. You taught me that. Don’t think about the right or wrong words. Just what you want to say about this moment. Whatever words you have will be right.”

“Feel like you got more poetic on me since January.”

Raven chuckled and shook her head. “Still only minimally poetic… and I can’t take credit for that one.” But she stopped herself before she said more. Now did not feel like the best moment to drop emotional bombs.

“We’re here, Mr. Jordan. About three cars in front of us,” Allen called out from the front seat.

He glanced at Raven, her eyes suddenly swimming with panic that he could tell she desperately wanted to swallow. He could almost see the realization hit her like a wall. She was about to walk out into the public eye for the first time in months at Hollywood’s most significant night of the year. And Michaell had been so elated to have her back that he had not considered how emotionally overwhelming that had to be.

Raven was determined to hide it as best and long as she could. Tonight was all about Michael and his career. And she had accepted being in the public eye when she decided to go back to him. She knew it would be difficult but he was worth it. They were worth the sacrifice. But her brain assaulted her with every possible name she would be called, the headlines that would materialize tomorrow. And all of that would reflect poorly on him. What if she ruined his life… again?

“Hey, hey, Rae. Baby girl. Look at me,” his hands gently framed her face to force her eyes to him. “Don’t worry about them. It’s just you and me, aight? Tonight’s ours. The first night of the rest of our lives, showing up 100% in our truth. None of this other shit matters. So just focus on me. I won’t let you go, I promise.”

“Just you and me,” she repeated, nodding slightly.

And with that, he opened the limo door, standing tall as crowds shouted his name and the chaotic sounds of the carpet filled their ears.

First night of the rest of our lives. And she was ready.

***

Though she had not been to many award shows with Michael thus far, she learned one key thing. They were just as boring as they looked on tv except when you were the date of a popular nominee, you did not have the luxury of letting that boredom show.

Will my jaw ever recover, she wondered as it ached from smiling through three hours of devastatingly mediocre jokes and long-winded speeches. At least the carpet was exciting and thrilling, as daunting as it was. In fact, the carpet was actually fun for the first time.

The chaotic jungle was its usual frantic chaotic place, not any different than she expected. But perhaps it merely felt different because she and Michael were so different from who they were the last time they were out together. They had stripped themselves bare and had shed their armor. They were standing decidedly in their truth and the immense love they shared. And that felt like a new world.

And she noticed so much more than her self-pitied colored glasses allowed her to see. Every protective touch, every studious glance to ensure she was still smiling and well, the well-timed playful remarks or jokes he whispered in her ear right when her nerves started to encroach, every gentle kiss that still held his endless passion for her. She finally saw it all and felt it. And it was everything.

Michael straightened up next to her, pulling Raven out of her own daydreams. Robert Downey Jr. made his way to the middle of the stage, an envelope labeled Best Actor printed boldly across it.

She tightened her grip on Michael’s hand. She had a good feeling about this.

“A leading man is more than an attractive face, though I’m sure every woman would agree that all five men in this category have that quality in common as well. But what they also have in common is vulnerability, empathy, and the courage to search for the humanity and depth of their characters to embody their wants, their fears, their grief, their sorrow boldly and bravely. These five performances are exemplary and remind us all just what a leading man is. Here are the nominees for Best Actor in a Motion Picture.”

The room dimmed ever so slightly as the reel started to play, the seconds that passed felt more like hours as they watched snippets of each performance. Michael’s was last, Raven’s free hand gently rubbing his arm as she felt his nerves finally kick in. She was impressed he only felt them now, she would have been an utter mess all evening.

“And the winner is…” the Marvel actor did a little fist pump that immediately gave the winner away, deafening applause almost drowning out his name. “Michael B. Jordan, Waves.”

Michael’s head fell into his hand for a moment, genuine shock coursing through him. He had convinced himself that he would not win to minimize the disappointment. But he had not really considered how it would feel to actually win? To actually receive this honor. And it was more than he could have hoped it would be.

Raven pulled him into her arms as they stood, tears swimming in her eyes.

“I’m so proud of you,” she whispered before he kissed her.

He honestly would have been fine to simply revel in this moment in her arms but he knew the clock was ticking on his speech.

He finally let her go and jogged up the stairs, giving RDJ a hug before stepping in front of the mic. The entire theater was still on their feet applauding and cheering as he stared out into the crowd.

“Wow. Thank you so much for this. As a kid from New Jersey, you just don't really ever expect your dreams to take off like this, to end up in a place like this. This is just… more than I could’ve ever dreamed for myself. So thank you. There are a million people for me to thank and not enough time before they play me off. My family and friends, my team and manager, the cast and crew who poured their hearts and souls into this film… Without all of you, I wouldn’t have made it here tonight and I’m grateful for your constant support.”

He glanced down at the trophy in his hand before continuing. “Umm… But there’s one person I do want to thank though and that is the love of my life, Raven Turner. When I look at you, all I can think of is how rewarding it is to be loved by you, to be chosen by you. That makes every day feel like I’ve just won an Oscar. I feel so blessed to be given the opportunity to love you, to stand in your light, and to live everyday working to be the man worthy of your love. Getting to share this moment with you goes beyond anything I could’ve imagined. Thank you for seeing me for all that I am and loving me for it. Thank you for falling with me, baby and I hope I make every day of our lives together worth it.”

She knew that the tears that streamed down her face were not attractive or good for the camera that was surely about to pan to her but she could not have hoped to care.

“I love you,” she mouthed though she doubted he could even see her from up there.

“I love you. Thank you!” He held the statue up in his hand before turning and walking off stage, his standing ovation renewing.

***

Michael wanted to laugh at how Raven stretched her body like an adorable kitten after sleeping like the literal dead for most of the daylight hours. He did not blame her, they did not stumble back into his house until after 4 am. Once the show ended, the pair bounced from after party to after party drinking, smoking, and dancing the night away. He had not had that much fun at industry events and parties in so long. And it had been so much fun that he was *almost* sad it was over, a perfect final night of an insane run in his career.

But then he remembered that closing that chapter meant he could focus his attention on the perfect and hopelessly exhausted woman rousing in his arms. They could heal without the distractions of events and the public eye. They could build their lives together officially. The joy of that instinctively caused him to pull her into his chest, pressing his lips to the top of her head.

“Mornin’ baby,” he whispered, his gruff voice filling her ears as Raven slowly opened her eyes.

Peace and contentment gently glided through her frame like a light summer’s breeze, easing all the aches and pains she had felt before. She had missed this… falling asleep snuggled in his arms, wrapped lovingly and tightly in his scent. She would have been inclined not to move until she caught a glimpse of the time on his iPad.

She let out a soft gasp as she tried to shoot up, shocked at how late she slept. However, his tight grip stopped her from lifting much beyond her head and chest.

“You gotta let me go, baby. We should get up. It’s almost 3 pm… sorry, don’t even know how I slept that fucking late. I know you got shit to do.”

“We had a late night and there ain’t shit to do today. And if there had been, I would’ve told you. Rest.”

She used the back of her hand to rub her eyes as she glanced at him, studying how his eyes returned to a script on his iPad that was highlighted to death. She merely rolled her eyes. Of course he would be working right after the biggest night of his career.

“How long have you been up?”

“Since 11 or so?” he shrugged. “Figured I’d relax and read some scripts my team pulled for Outliers. Been so crazy, they’ve just been piling up. Grabbed a snack bout an hour ago and made you some tea but it’s definitely cold. I can make you more if you want.”

“Why didn’t you wake me??”

He merely shrugged with his unbothered charm, his hand gently rubbing her back, which lulled her into laying her head down on his chest again despite her brain’s alarm bells to get up.

How am I so tired?? She wondered as her eyes threatened to fall shut again. All her body wanted to do was fall asleep in his arms.

“When you didn’t even move when I got up, it seemed like you needed the rest. And still do.”

“I’m good.”

“Those bags under your eyes say otherwise.”

“I know you ain’t talking…” she offered back, glancing pointedly at the equally stark dark circles under his eyes.

“Touche. But no actor gets enough sleep. Early call times, global press tours, events and after parties. It’s the name of the game. You haven’t been taking care of yourself?” His annotation was that of a question but they both knew the answer. “How much sleep you been getting since we-” Michael stopped himself, the words he held back still hanging heavily in the air. There was still so much they still had to discuss, wounds that were still unhealed and unresolved.

While Michael thought Raven was always stunning, he could not ignore the obvious toll the events of late had taken on his girl. He thought it had just been emotional but he had not seen her long enough to notice the physical strain his actions had caused too. And while she had told him not to feel guilty, he did. So he was not going to wake her up or bother her when it was clear she required a reset. And while he would always adore her for rallying for him last night, today was a new day. And she deserved to be catered to and have someone take care of her for a change.

“Couple hours a night… Between the break up and the paparazzi during the first couple weeks… and then all the shit on social media, I was just on edge 24/7, my brain couldn’t shut off long enough to sleep… or sleep well. I had some old sleeping pills I used some nights when I was desperate but… it was hard not to think about everything over and over and over again. And then wallow in it.”

“You stopped eating too? You lost weight.”

Raven chuckled. “You know most men wouldn’t have a problem with their girlfriend losing a couple pounds. Wasn’t like I didn’t need to.”

“You’re fuckin’ sexy at any weight but I gotta problem with anything that means you ain’t taking care of yourself. Especially when it’s my fault.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose and it’s no one’s fault. I just… didn’t really have an appetite a lot. But that’s starting to come back. I’m fine, Michael. Truly. We’re still celebrating you, can’t end that early just to fuss over little ole me.”

Michael knew she wanted him to pretend he believed her for the sake of not discussing this right now. But what was the point in that? He would not pretend he had not been terrified for her. That he was not still terrified at how all of this had worn her down. And he knew it was not just what he did, it had just been the final straw in a life-long list of painful experiences. But one thing Raven had always had when he looked at her was hope, even if the flame was as small as a dying candle. There was always an air about her that let him know she genuinely believed things would get better one day.

But when he saw her at her apartment, the night at that bar? That was gone, completely extinguished. Her eyes, his favorite part of her, held nothing but sorrow. He would not be able to live with himself if he ever saw that look in her eyes again.

“You aren’t fine, Rae. I know that shit. And I’m allowed to worry about you. I mean shit, how you looked after that video was bad enough. Then the bar?? Not gon’ forget that shit happened just cause we’re back together. And I’m not gon’ pretend you’re fine when you aren’t either. You’re not gonna keep sweeping your needs under the rug. We can lay here all day and sleep if that’s what you need.”

“You have better things to do, Mr. Academy Award Winner then watch me sleep. I can take care of myself.”

“What if I like watching you sleep??”

“Then that would be kinda endearing and… kinda creepy?” she mused. “But mostly endearing.” Not that she would ever admit it but she enjoyed watching him sleep too.

“Well I might be creepy then,” he admitted. He did genuinely love watching her sleep, when she was in his arms, there was just a rare peace about her that he loved to see. “The outside world has gotten too much of me lately. Now, the only thing I wanna do is take care of you. Not cause you can’t do that shit yourself but because you shouldn’t have to. Everyone needs to be taken care of and I’m not letting the next 30 years go by without you knowing what that feels like. Now you’re gonna feel it. Every single day. Rest, Raven.”

His words tumbled through her brain as she stared at him for a moment, her eyes brimming with tears. She was exhausted and not just physically. But of carrying the weight of every problem on her shoulders, of being alone in crafting solutions. She was so often consumed by pure survival and it had made her resourceful and smart. There was not a problem that life threw at her that Raven had not figured out a way through. She was stuck in survivor mode 24/7. But the problem with survival is that it was an all-consuming task. There’s no opportunity… no room to rest. And no one to take on the burdens for her so she could.

“I just haven’t h-had anyone… who cared enough to worry… in a long time, no one willing to share the load,” she offered simply, sniffling lightly. “Until you hired David… I didn’t think you cared what happened to me after we… I ended things.”

“I did. I do.” His hand gently cupped her cheek, his thumb whisking away the tears that slowly fell. “Fuck, I thought about you every minute of the damn day, Rae. You had me over here losing my damn mind. I care… I love you so much, it fucking killed me. And scared me. And I deserved it, to worry and stress and flip shit because I fucked up… I hurt you.”

“You did. But it wasn’t just you. Life’s been shit before and I could always, you know, keep going? It was just the final blow to the little bit of hope I had? And I just didn’t see the point in getting back up again. That was my best… the bare minimum needed to keep breathing. The heartache… I knew I could get over that eventually. One day in the far fucking future, I could… would force myself to get over you. Or just accept that I could never have you. It was the ache of losing hope that killed me. It was like my soul ached? And there were moments, like the night of your premiere, that I just thought that would never heal?”

“So you got wasted? To forget?”

She chuckled. “Alcohol is a great temporary solution. When you’re that low… shit gets desperate,” she admitted. “Anything to numb the pain for a short while. But it always comes back.”

“How often?”

“Rarely and that was the worst night, I promise. Honestly, wasn’t sure I’d ever want to touch alcohol again after that.”

“And now? How do you feel?”

“The wounds in my heart still need mending but every second back with you has healed parts of my soul. I’m… not ok,” she admitted, Michael immediately empathizing with how difficult it was for her to say those words. “You’re right… it doesn’t just go away. But I will be ok.”

He nodded. “I know you will be. I’m gonna make sure of it. Raven… look, I know this shit is scary, giving up control when you’ve been the one driving for so long, the one responsible for everything for so long. But I’m here, I’m not going anywhere and I’m not gonna let go again. It’s safe to let someone else behind the wheel for a while. Rest for me, baby girl. Please.

As if she was light as a feather, he shifted her so her body laid on top of his chest, his strong arms anchoring her in that spot. She buried her face in the nape of his neck, breathing in the perfect scent that her heart recognized as him.

Even as her body resumed its pliant posture in his arms, Raven realized she did not want rest. No, she wanted to feel him in the very depths of her. She knew they had to talk, knew there were conversations to be had. But fuck, she could not wait. She wanted to revel in this moment, of finally being with someone who genuinely loved her and cared. And she needed to feel it on a cellular level.

Raven forced herself to sit up, quickly straddling his hips and giving him a quick but tantalizing grind against him. That turned his frown into a mischievous grin, though she could still see the concern in his eyes.

“This is the opposite of rest, baby girl.”

“I’ll rest as long as you want after. I need you.”

“We still got a lot to talk about, Rae. I just don’t want you to get caught up in the moment ‘n not really want this yet. ‘N I…” Raven should have been put off the pure animalistic look simmering in his eyes. But instead it just made the desire grow stronger, long tentacles stretching out to every pleasure zone in her body. Demanding he touch, bite, slap, caress… literally do anything to satiate her. “I’m not sure what you need, what we both need.”

Her palms cupped his face, guiding his eyes to hers. “Then don’t be sure. I love that you take care of me, Michael. But taking care of me isn’t having the perfect thing to say or do for me. Sometimes, it’s just being you and figuring it out as we go. I know I need you. And that’s what I want, to feel every part of you… whatever you have to give me. And everything we need to talk about will still be here when you’re done with me.”

And with her permission, the reins holding him back evaporated and he pounced. Raven was on her back before she could blink, Michael capturing her lips, reminding her of the dominance she missed. And desperately craved it.

“Tell me what you need, baby,” he whispered in her ear.

“Everything. All of you.”

Michael would happily oblige. He licked his lips as he stared down at her. Where would he even start?

Some part of him wanted to render her utterly immobile as he usually did. But a more significant part of him just wanted to savor her. Wanted to feel everything she had to offer and bask in having her back with him. And while he loved the fast-paced dominant sex they were used to, it did not always allow for that. And he knew in his heart that they both needed more than fast and furious today.

His hands gently ran up the smooth skin of her thighs, gathering the oversized t-shirt on her frame in his hands and sliding it off. Her nipples pebbled slightly at the cold air against her warm skin.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful. You know that shit right?” he asked as he pressed soft kisses against her neck.

“Y-yes,” she whispered, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as he sucked on a particularly sensitive spot before moving down to her collarbone.

“You know how much I love you? What I’d do for you?” he continued a slow but intentional path down her body, lingering on her chest as he engulfed each of her nipples between his lips. He took his time there, remembering how much she enjoyed nipple play. His mind called back to the numerous times he put clamps on them. His tongue licked her nipples, Raven whimpering and squirming beneath his hot mouth.

Soon, they would reacquaint themselves with those roles, he thought. If she was up for it.

Her body was ablaze as his lips and tongue found their home on every inch of her skin he could get to. Down he trekked, only slowing when he got to the paradise between her thighs. He knew her inner thighs were a weak spot, something he learned long long ago. He knew it was the teasing that got to her, being so close to where she needed pleasure the most but not exactly there yet.

“Fuck I missed this,” he whispered. “Those little moans you make, how I make you squirm and beg and plead. The taste of you on my tongue.”

“Michael… please,” she whimpered. “I need…” the words were lost on her, her brain was no longer in the decision-making business. Her body, the pleasure sensors that lived beneath the surface of her skin guided every feeling, every filthy thought, every base desire and need. “C-Can’t wait.”

He lifted his head from between her thighs, his breath teasing her core with heat that turned her into putty in his hands. She could not wait, she needed to be connected to him. To feel their bodies become one again in the most intimate and carnal way.

“You trust me, baby?”

“With my life,” she answered truthfully.

While his actions had shaken that trust, when it boiled down to it, she would never trust her body with anyone as she did with Michael. She was his and he had never harmed her or made her regret handing over the reins to her pleasure to him. He had proven himself worthy of it tenfold.

“Then trust that Imma take care of you, princess. Always.”

Princess… fuck was it possible for her heart to literally explode? Or for her to be anymore wet than she already was?

His poor sheets, she mused.

He resituated her legs on his shoulders and grinned up at her as he continued nipping at her inner thighs, Raven’s soft moans only spurring him on. She was already a mess… a delicious, delectable mess to be sure, her juices glistening and begging him to lick, suck… devour her.

“Fuck… all this for me, baby?” he smiled as his kisses and bites grew closer and closer to where she desired, where she needed his touch the most.

“Y-yes…” Her body had missed him more than she realized.

“I missed you.” And with that short statement, devour her, he did.

Bliss.

Ecstasy.

Fucking nirvana.

He made her feel all of it with one masterful flick of his tongue against her bud, her back arching off his mattress and a guttural moan rising from her belly. He proved within minutes that he had not forgotten, forgotten what buttons to push, what spots to focus his attention, how she liked to be pleasured.

He did not let up or come up for air as his mouth savored every inch of her that he could, spelling out his adoration and love for her - not with his words - but with his tongue and his two fingers buried in her heat. There was a sensual pace to it that she was not used to with him. Typically, sex was deliciously punishing and unyielding. It was rooted in his care and gentleness for her but the pace left no time to breathe. Not that she minded.

But today? He took particular care, the march up to her peak was tantalizingly slow but perfect all the same. There was no rush between them, despite Raven’s original desire to fit almost 2 months of lost time into this one moment. But Michael understood that they had time. There was no invisible clock, nothing rushing them. He could savor the little gasps of pleasure when he sucked her clit gently, the way her legs clamped around his head when she was close, how her pussy clenched around his fingers as he increased his speed to exactly where she liked, how her hips rocked to meet every thrust.

Every plea, every moan, every scream for more. He wanted to hear all of it. And he wanted her to savor the feeling of being taken care of, because she would need to learn to get used to it. He could do this every day, more than once a day to be honest.

“So… close,” her moans grew louder and louder as he took her to the edge of the cliff of pleasure.

She allowed herself to fall as she felt the pleasure in her belly snap. Her mouth simply remained agape with a breathless scream on her lips as she fell into the depths of ecstasy. The crash didn’t feel like one at all, but a soft landing as he continued his ministrations against her clit, drawing out her orgasm for as long as he could. And it was pure bliss, warm waves of pleasure continuing to crash over her until he finally extracted himself from between her legs.

“That was…” Being at a loss for words was commonplace when they fucked. But Michael understood as he pressed his lips to hers, allowing her to taste herself briefly.

“Fuck!” she cried out as he immediately started to sheathe himself inside her, a welcomed surprise. She tried to hide it as her face screwed for a split second, her body becoming reacquainted with his girth and size. The stretch he provided today in particular, given their stint apart, was a short-lived sting of pain that managed to take her breath away.

He immediately stilled.

“Talk to me, Rae. You good?”

Her eyes were still shut tight as she waited for a moment for her to get used to him again. So she merely nodded.

“Words, baby.”

“Y-Yea I’m good. J-just been a minute a-and you surprised me.” She let out a content sigh as pain gave way to mind numbing pleasure, giving him the directive to move. “A-and t-that’s not… fair,” she moaned. “W-wanted… to taste… you too.” She wanted to force her lips into a playful pout but the only facial expressions her muscles could conjure up were those of passion and pleasure.

“Next time, princess.” He sucked on the soft skin of her neck as he drove into her.

Raven could only see the darkness of the back of her head as her eyes rolled back with every rock forward of his hips, sending his dick right into her g-spot. His thrusts were relentless, Raven’s nails digging into his back as she held onto him for dear life.

“Fuck… I-I love you,” she panted, unable to form any other real sentences worth anything. That was all that needed to be said in her mind.

“Say it again,” he demanded, gently biting her neck as her declaration of love only spurred him on. He grabbed her legs and pulled her ankles to his shoulders.

“I love… FUCK! Fuckkkkk, j-just like that!” She cried out, abandoning the words originally on her lips for completely incoherent ramblings of a woman who was being split into two but loved every single second of it.

Did he just kill me?? Am I dead?? Because this no longer felt of this world? No human being should be allowed to experience this sort of pleasure. Or be able to give it… was the man above her even human?

“You feel so good, baby. You like how I’m fuckin’ this pussy??”

“Yes! Yes! Fuck I love it so much. Don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

Stopping?? An utterly foreign concept to him at that moment. And he did not. Raven barely could breath as Michael moved her into position after position, fucking her into oblivion.

Tears sprang to her eyes as he fucked her from behind, his teeth biting gently into the skin of her neck.

“Where you want it, princess??” he demanded as he felt himself getting close.

“Cum inside me,” she gasped, not wanting their union to end any sooner than it needed to. This was as close as they could get and for some part of her, it still was not close enough.

More, more, more, her soul seemed to demand. More of him.

“Don’t say that shit to me if you don’t mean it?” he warned, those few words causing a fever to settle over him, his hips snapping forward into her ass with a force that jolted her further into his mattress.

“Please, baby,” she whined desperately, unable to find any other words to assure him that was what she wanted.

Euphoric was the only word that came to mind as he pulled her flush to his chest and emptied his cum inside her.

“Thank you, thank you,” she panted, her pussy clenching around him as he pumped in and out of her slowly.

Michael gently let her body fall into the mattress, Raven’s eyes already starting to flutter closed as he went to grab a warm towel. Another whimper escaped her lips as he cleaned her up.

“That was… whew. I missed you.”

Michael did not bother putting his own clothes back on but instead slid into bed with her, cuddling her body against his.

Of course now, sleep was not something Rave could avoid, her body spent as it always was after their time together.

“ Give me an hour and then my legs will work again. And then I’m taking over,” she muttered as she yawned.

He merely laughed and nodded, pressing his lips to her forehead.

“Wouldn’t bet on it. I only made you cum four times.”

Raven lifted her head to look at him incrediously. “Only four??? I can’t feel my legs, babe.” Her jaw dropped at the slight frown creasing his lips. “Oh my God… you’re actually upset,” she laughed. “You’re insane.”

“I have a reputation to uphold, babe. Six minimum every time.”

“If you wanna kill me, just say so,” she joked.

“Just tryin’ to put you to sleep without a fight,” he offered with a smile. “I give it five minutes before you’re out like a light.”

“Very mischievous but effective.”

Raven did not understand how she could even require more sleep, even after a palty (as Michael would complain) four orgasms. But he had accomplished his goal, her entire body was boneless and pliant in his hands. Everything in her told her she was finally home and safe to let go of everything else for the first time in her life. So she welcomed the coming rest, allowing her eyes to drift closed. However, before she fully gave in, she whispered.

“You should rest too… you’ve been going and going since the top of the year. You’ve earned it too.”

“Deal.”

The life of an actor was defined by sleep deprivation so Michael had learned the important trait of falling asleep literally anywhere and anytime. Because his body was on his press tour schedule, he had felt wide awake after a few hours of rest this morning. But he knew if he closed his eyes for 5 minutes, he would pass out again.

“I love you,” he offered quietly as he shifted them both so he was laying down again.

“Not as much… as I love you,” she mumbled back as her eyes fluttered closed.

Tag list: @readinghere2023 @blackerthings @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @physicxal @purplehairgawdess @miyuhpapayuh @rueruesclues @geemamii @certifiedlesbianbaddie @pipsqueak-98 @nyifly22 @destinio1 @twocentaur @gopaperless @musicisme333 @majesticbrown @roguekiki @taurusqueen83 @mysteryuz @miamormilan @itsknor-thedeep @naj-ay444 @mads-grace4 @nayaesworld @kholdkill @msniaimani @nccu-rnc @apenasumlug4r @dezzy154 @munchsa

***

A/N: Whew ok y'all do not know how much I agonized over this chapter LOL but our babies are backkkkkk and we have maybe two chapters left and an epilogue. Thanks so much for sticking by my slow writing ass. Drop a comment and let me know what you thought!

#black writers #michael b jordan #michael b jordan x oc #mbjordanedit #black panther #michael b jordan fanfic #michael b jordan x reader #creed 3 #adonis creed #creed iii #fic: wicked fantasies

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fourstarsoutofnine · 1 month

Text

To get away

Chapter 4: stay with me, now.

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 3.5

Warnings:fear, anger, infighting…delirium?; mentions of blood, needles, description of inserting stitches, said stitches being ripped out

“Oh Hylia—Din, Nayru, Farore—please, please don’t take her—“ the vet gripped your body tight, tears blurring his vision as everyone ran up, stepping around the bodies of the monsters that surrounded the two of you. He was so sure he failed again. Memories of koholint flooded back to him.

“Vet—sweet Hylia…” the captain’s shout turned to a mere mumble as he ran over, seeing you in the vet’s arms. And almost as disturbing, the vet sobbing over you.

The rest of the team made it to your location, the traveler, the old man, and the captain stood around you and the vet.

“Here, son, let me take her, we need to get her somewhere safe so the traveler can—“ the old man started, but jolted back when the vet whipped his head up, a crazy look in his eyes.

“No! Don’t touch her—she’s hurt!!”

“Vet we need to take her, I can heal her—“ the traveler knelt down and got closer.

“Stay back!!! You don’t—I can’t let her out of my sight again she’s gonna get hurt worse!!!”

The old man took a deep breath and looked at the captain and traveler. The sailor turned his face into the champion’s chest and hugged him tight, tears welling in his eyes. The champion hugged him back tightly, trying to close his ears off to the scene.

“Traveler. Give us a hand.” He said, and the vet looked extremely panicked. His head whipped around to each of them as they closed in on the two of you.

“What—no—what’re you doing—get back!!” He shouted.

“I’m sorry.” The traveler said and put a hand on his head, a pink, sparkly, dusty magic flowed from his hands and the vet’s eyes got heavy before he fell asleep. The traveler caught him and the captain picked you up.

“We’re losing time, we need to get her back to the inn.” The captain said, keeping pressure on your wound.

“Right. Hurry, everyone!” The old man said, picking the vet up. “Back to the inn!”

The chain booked it back, running faster than they felt they ever had before. The captain laid you down in a bed and the traveler got to work healing you. The vet was laid down by your side, nearest the wall. You wouldn’t be out of his sight when he woke…

Now, we play the waiting game.

. ݁₊ ✶. ݁ ˖ˎˊ˗ . ݁₊ ✶. ݁ ˖ˎˊ˗ . ݁₊ ✶. ݁ ˖ ☾ ˎˊ˗ . ݁₊ ✶. ݁ ˖ˎˊ˗ . ݁₊ ✶. ݁ ˖ˎˊ˗ . ݁₊ ✶. ݁ ˖ˎ

The traveler had worked over you for hours, healing magic flowing from his fingertips, but he could only exert so much energy for so long. He’d exhausted himself just as your wound was stitching itself closed.

“I—“ he stuttered out breathlessly. “I can’t—“ he braced himself against the side of the bed. The smith pulled a chair up for him.

“It’s okay. You did what you could. I can get the rest.” He pulled a little sewing kit out of his bag and grabbed some fishing wire from the rancher’s bag. He went to heat the needle up to sterilize it. He crawled up onto the bed, keeping the needle steady in his hands as he did, and sat between your legs to stitch up the wound on your side.

He leaned over you and carefully pushed the needle through, trying to steel his nerves. He’d sewn things up before, but never a person. Safe to say he was terrified. Vio and Green tried to concentrate, blinking away the tears Red had welled in his eyes, and Blue had don’t mess up don’t mess up repeating in his head. He got a few stitches in before a loud gasp was heard.

You sprang back to life and sat up, eyes wide.

“Y/n—its—it’s okay lay back down—“ he stuttered, but you didn’t listen. You were in a state of shock. Pure, pain filled panic. You pushed him off of you with your foot, managing to rip out the stitches in the process. A scream bubbled up in your chest, tears streaming down your face as you grabbed your side tightly. The others in the room moved to subdue you so the smith could finish up, albeit crudely, stitching you together. But when they pulled your hands back, there was no wound there. Just a bloody spot where it used to be. The blood looked to be mainly from your hands, where you’d grabbed it in the first place.

“What—??” The captain muttered confusedly

“Please—get off of me—“ you struggled under the rancher’s grasp, eyes a bright green. Almost neon. He gasped and backed up.

“How did you do that? How did you heal?”

“I-I don’t know, I just—did?? I put my hands on it and when you guys took them off I was fine—“

“Your eyes are glowing green!” The sailor grinned, amazed.

“What..?” You got up to look in a mirror. You caught just the tail end of the glow before your eyes turned back to their original color. When you looked down at the triforce mark on your hand, it had been glowing as well.

“Must have something to do with this…” you showed it to them.

“Has to be.” The old man said. “Seems we have yet another mystery to solve.”

“Add it to the pile.” The smith sighed. The vet turned over in bed and opened his eyes before realizing what had happened. His eyes widened and he sat up.

“Y/n?? Where is she—“ his eyes settled on you and he breathed a relieved sigh. “You’re alright…”

“I am..” you smiled nervously. Last thing you’d heard from him was him wanting rid of you…

“…good.” He cleared his throat. “Don’t wander off again, that was stupid. You’re smarter than that.” He looked away from you.

“…thank you..?” You huffed a confused laugh. The air in the room got lighter as everyone laughed along—but they knew. They knew how he really felt. It was only a matter of time to see if he’d make it known to you.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #lu four #lu legend #lu hyrule #lu wind #lu twilight #lu sky #lu time #lu wild #lu wars #Lu warriors #farore au

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dancingtotuyo · 3 months

Text

14. in the cold light i live to love and adore you

Woman | Joel Miller X Female Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: you adjust to life with a newborn. Joel finally gets to tell you something

Tags: Joel Miller X Female Reader. Age Gap (13/14 years). HBO Characters. Mostly cannon compliant for show & game. Timeline is changed. Spoilerish for TLOU 2

Chapter Warnings: fluff, angst, hurt and comfort, TLOU SPOILERS

Notes: To my beautiful beta readers @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin and @janaispunk, I adore you both with my whole, entire heart!

Words: 3931

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Playlist

The winter winds blow in with gusto, granting one of the coldest you’ve seen in Jackson yet. The ground freezes in October and it stays that way into the next year. Reports say you lose more patrolmen to cold than infected even with the uptick in sightings. The brutal winter is relentless, keeping its freezing claws in the world well into the new year. You think if Al Gore is still alive, he’d be happy to see this kind of freeze, but Jackson keeps turning despite it.

Rachel Perkins organizes a play for the kids. Willa is assigned the part of a butterfly. She has all kinds of ideas for her costume, continuously searching for items to assemble it. Joel shapes some old wire into wings and you manage to wrap them with pink and purple scraps of fabric.

Someone gifts Willa an old tutu that needs mending in about three different places, but it’s easy work. Except once her ensemble is put together, you have no success convincing her to wear anything but the wings and sparkly pink tutu requiring another two mending jobs. On the third straight day, her wings require readjusting after they got bent out of shape during a game of tag.

A few people decide there should be a dance, so within a couple of days, the Tipsy Bison is packed with dancing bodies and music and life. Carter finds his friends in a quiet corner. Willa runs, weaving through the crowd in her butterfly costume despite numerous attempts to talk her out of it.

“At least it makes her easy to spot.” Joel winks at your side, whiskey in his hand.

“Finding Willa in a crowd has never been an issue.” You laugh, taking the glass from Joel. He smiles as you take a sip before handing it back to him.

“No, I don’t suppose it has.” Joel laughs.

“There you two are. About time you showed up.” Tommy grins, walking toward you with Maria at his side.

Joel rolls his eyes but it’s all in good fun as he clasps hands with Tommy.

“I see Willa is practicing for the recital,” Maria laughs, her eyes pinned to her niece.

“Haven’t been able to get her to wear anything else,” you sigh, rubbing your forehead. “I’ve already mended the damn tutu three times, it’s hanging on for dear life at this point.”

Joel chuckles, arm threading around your waist. “Can’t beat the smile on her face though.”

“I’m handing you the needle and thread next time she comes in with a tear.” You roll your eyes in playfulness.

“Hey, I’ve fixed those wings several times now too.”

“Sounds like I need to send Elias’s pants over to your place,” Maria says. “I think every single pair needs patching.”

“I remember when Carter was in that phase. I gave up there for a while. Let him run around with holes. He didn’t seem to care.”

“I’m about to resort to that.”

“Get Tommy to do it. He had to sew me up a couple times. Did a damn good job,” Joel grins. “You know that one scar.” He looks at you.

You know it. It runs across the side of his torso, the scar so thin and faded, you thought it was from a surgery before the outbreak. You nod.

“Tommy stitched that one.”

“Damn,” your eyes flicker to him. “I can hardly stitch someone up that nicely.”

“Luck,” Tommy shrugs.

“Skill,” you correct.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” Maria jabs her husband with her index finger.

“Ow! Have not-“ Tommy says, but Joel is tugging you away from them before you can gather the rest of their argument. His deep chuckle settles in your ear.

“What are you doing?”

“Takin my woman for a spin on the dance floor. What does it look like?” He grins, guiding you into the sea of dancers in the middle of the floor.

You suppose you should hate it when he calls you his “woman.” There was always something about it in the world before that felt derogatory, like men were trying to claim women as property, reducing them to a single component. It sounds cliche you know, but it’s not like that when Joel says it.

You don’t have a title on your relationship. For you, to be called his in any capacity is an honor, just as he’s yours. Your partner, your co parent, your lover, all of those and more encompassed into the title “your man” and “his woman”

My Girl plays over the record player bringing a smile to your lips. The first of many songs you and Joel danced to both in the public eye and the quiet of your home.

He smiles down at you, eyes shining in deep, dark pools under the flicker of the lights strung from the rafters. You're drawn back to that first dance, the one you almost skipped out of but your feet carried to anyway. The way he held you. Kissed you, claimed you in front of Jackson without fear of the future even when you couldn’t do the same for him. Yet he stuck with you, waited for you

Moisture gathers in your eyes as you lay your head on his chest as he rocks back and forth.

“I know, Sweetheart.”

Your chest tightens with love for him. It’s not scary anymore. It hasn’t been for a long time.

Willa runs into your legs, demanding a turn with Joel before the song is halfway over. You oblige as Joel picks her up. She laughs, arms tightening around his shoulders. You watch them from the sidelines, wishing you had a camera to capture the identical smiles on their faces, the curls that fall on their foreheads, Willa’s fairy wings, Joel’s broad shoulders. It’s a perfect moment. A slice of heaven on earth you think.

Willa insists on a second song since they didn’t get a full one the first time. Carter dances a two step with you, his smile beaming the whole time as he masters the steps. Tommy pulls you out at some point- spinning you until you’re so dizzy you need to sit down. He finds it funny.

The air buzzes with electricity throughout the whole night as you let your kids run around on their own accord in games of tag, sardines, hide and seek, and whatever else their brains concoct.

It takes some time before Joel tracks you down again, pulling you away mid conversation with Rachel and Lindsey. He’s not the least bit remorseful.

“You're in high demand tonight. I didn’t have another choice.” He winks at you as the music slows to a soft instrumental.

“Did I protest?”

He laughs, placing his lips firmly on yours. “I love you.”

You can’t help the smile that appears every time he says it. You settle against him, letting the soft music settle over your bones. “I love you too.”

You don’t speak for another minute, too wrapped up in him, listening to the steady thrum of his heart beating in time with yours.

You catch Ellie and Dina on the dance floor together. There’s an extra reach in your smile. They’re out of your sight when Dina kisses Ellie. Then, Joel’s muscles tighten around you.

Your brow furrows as your head lifts. “What is it?”

Joel doesn’t respond, eyes locked straight ahead. You know that look and follow it straight to Ellie and Dina and Seth. Your stomach drops

Dina says something, a smile on her face before it fades and she walks away, Ellie’s hand in hers.

“Remember next time there’s kids around,” Seth calls after them.

Joel tugs you behind him. You catch the vein in his neck popping out. He's ready to pounce, to protect Ellie at the first sight of danger.

“Yeah cause you’re setting such a great example,” Dina retorts as she heads for the door.

“Just what this town needs, another loud mouth dyke!”

It cuts through the room like a knife, drawing others’ attention.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Ellie spins on her heels, heading straight for Seth. Dina fights to hold her back, but it’s useless.

“Hey!” Joel surges forward, pushing Seth backward. “Get the hell outta here!”

“Get your hands off of me!” Seth shouts back.

Maria and Tommy rush toward the commotion as Maria steps between the two men.

There’s a soft thud and the firm pressure of two small hands against the back of your thighs. You twist around, finding a mop of dark hair and eyes to match staring wide eyed at the scene unfolding before you. You run your hand over Willa’s head, encouraging her to keep behind you as Maria and Tommy usher Seth out of the Tipsy Bison.

Then your eyes follow Joel. He’s not coming back toward you, but toward Ellie. You barely manage to keep the cringe at bay. Not here, you plead internally.

“You alright, Kiddo?”

“What is wrong with you?”

Some people have the decency to turn their heads, to act as if they aren’t listening in. Others just gawk, trying to glean any answers they can from the cold shoulder Ellie has given Joel over the last few years.

“He had no right-”

“And you do?” Ellie asks, anger shaking her words. “I don’t need your fucking help, Joel.”

Joel’s eyes cut from hers, finding yours in the small crowd. You see the way it stings in his eyes, and then he looks away from you both as he slowly eases backward.

“Right…” He says, so quiet you barely make it out as Joel turns away, walking out of the building on display for everyone to see. The door slams shut behind him, ushering in a cool gust of wind.

Pairs of eyes flash to Ellie. Some find you. There are a few mumbles exchanged between people, but they quickly die down as the music turns up and people return to their own lives. Your eyes find Ellie’s as people begin to fill in the dance floor once more. She seems more vulnerable now, more like the young teen you remember. The one who put on a big front, but wore her emotions so clearly on her face.

“Mommy?” Willa tugs at your shirt. “Why were Ellie and Daddy yelling at each other?”

You snap around, picking her up, the fairy wings she wears making it more difficult. “People fight sometimes.”

She seems to contemplate the words, her forehead crinkling with consternation, like she’s trying to remember all the fights she’s ever witnessed. It tips your lips upward. She looks so much like Joel when she does that. Sarah used to make a similar face.

“You fight with Carter and Elias sometimes.”

She sighs exasperatedly, pushing her hair out of her face. She’s so much sass and thought wrapped into a tiny package. “Yeah, but they ‘noy me.”

You laugh this time, kissing her head. Ellie and Dina are gone when you look toward where they were. Willa yawns, laying her head on your shoulder. You suppose it’s time to go home anyway.

You pull Carter away from a game of marbles happening in the corner much to his dismay, but he's all too proud to show you the new green one he won tonight on the way home.

Joel sits on the front porch, cup of coffee steaming in his owl mug. He still uses the one you got him for his birthday, but try as you might, you can’t make the damn owl disappear. Nonetheless, it’s reassuring to find him in such a natural position after tonight. To find him waiting for you, for his family, to come home. Carter rushes ahead, eager to show off his new possession. Joel listens to him with rapt attention.

Willa wiggles in your arms, sliding down to the ground and rushing for the front porch, no doubt jealous of the attention her older brother is receiving. Joel pulls her into his lap, eyes never diverting from Carter. It amazes you how easily it comes to him, balancing both of their needs for attention, making them feel so seen and loved at the same time.

You hang out at the edge of the front porch, back resting against the railing simply observing. Joel glances up at you, offering a brief wink before he’s pulled back in by Carter. He lets it go on for a few minutes before reminding both children that it’s time to get ready for bed.

A chorus of groans fills your porch. You push back a smile. It’s endearing tonight. It isn’t always.

“Get it done and we’ll have time for a bedtime story,” Joel says.

“And a song?” Willa asks.

“Only if you’re snappy.”

It’s a bold face lie and you both know it. All Willa has to do is ask, and Joel is humming opening measures, but it works nonetheless. Both kids are racing inside. He eases up, staking over to you. An arm wraps around your waist, tugging you closer. His breath is warm across your face in the cold of the winter night. He kisses you, soft but possessive, like he needs to assure himself you’re still here. That you’re not going anywhere.

“Wanna talk about it?”

He shakes his head. “Later. We got kids to put to bed.”

He presses another kiss to your lips and then you’re both inside, ensconced in the bedtime routine. The four of you settle on the couch, a kid tucked into both of his sides, story book in hand. Reading glasses rest on Joel’s nose. Something you had admittedly teased him about. Old Man, you had called him more than once, but you like them.

Willa falls asleep before the last page. It doesn’t keep Joel from singing her a song when he tucks her into bed. His stripped version of Monday Morning drifts down the hallway HIs voice accompanied by Willa’s. Then he goes to Carter’s room. You catch a few words spoken between them, but can’t make them out. He sings to Carter. It makes you smile as you top off Joel’s coffee mug, the owl one. You hold the routine, the peace near. You doubt Carter has many bedtime serenades left before he decides he’s too old for them.

When he comes out, Joel tucks his head into your neck. “Sit outside with me?”

“It’s freezing.”

“Please?” He kisses your neck softly. “I’ll keep you warm. Wrap you tight in a blanket. The wind ain’t bad tonight.” He tugs you closer and you sigh, knowing you’ve lost the fight already.

“Fine, I’ll grab my jacket.”

You sit next to Joel on the porch swing as he plucks at the strings of his guitar, gleaning whatever body heat you can from him. His cup of coffee warms your hands. You turn the owl so it faces outward. The porch light casts a bluish hue over you. He still hasn’t said anything about tonight, hasn’t opened his mouth, but he continues pulling a melody from the instrument on his lap.

You enjoy the moment for what it is. You take a single sip of his coffee, the substance bitter in your mouth as your eyes drift shut, head resting on Joel’s shoulder. There’s no pressure to say anything. You can just exist with each other in the freezing winter. It’s more than enough.

The guitar rings, but Joel stops playing, body easing forward. “Hey…” He says.

Your eyes open as he sets the guitar aside. Ellie stands at the opposing end of your porch, eyes focused on Joel. You sense their silent exchange, a long pause before either looks away. Ellie gives it another second before moving forward, resting her hands on the bannister. You immediately feel like an intruder. You’re not meant to be here for this.

You lean over to Joel, kissing his cheek, handing him his mug without another word. You reach out, squeezing Ellie’s shoulder lightly as you pass by. She gives you a tight lipped smile. The front door clicks softly behind you, giving them their privacy,

Joel stands, cautiously joining her as the railing.

“What’re you drinking?”

He lets out a little huff. “Coffee.”

Ellie watches him as she tries to think of her next words, formulating what she wants to say to him, what’s been building inside of her over the last several years. She’d held on to it for so long, and it’s all led her here. “Where’d you get that?”

“Those people who came through last week.” Another awkward pause. “A little embarrassed as to what I had to trade to get it, but…” he pulls the mug to his lips. “It’s not bad.”

Ellie looks out, studying her house across the street. Joel follows suit, allowing her to direct things. Let her take the lead, it rings in his head. Sounds like you even.

Joel focuses on his coffee mug, The steam that rises and dances up toward the sky until it disappears in thin wisps never to be seen again. The fog of his breathing joins it from time to time, creating a new dance, intertwining with each other only to separate.

“I had Seth under control.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“And you need to stop harassing Jesse about my patrols.” She stands up straighter, looking at Joel as she gains her confidence back.

He nods, keeping his focus on his mug. “Okay.”

Ellie shuffles a bit, trying to decide if she’s going to leave it there or push. She expects more from Joel. She wants more from Joel.

“Dina… is she your girlfriend?”

Ellie’s mind races. She shifts more thinking through her response. “No.” She shakes her head. Finally, Joel looks her way. Ellie’s eyes are all squinted up. “No, she- that was just one kiss. It doesn’t mean anything. She just- I don’t know why she did that.”

“But you do like her.”

Ellie takes a deep breath, trying to work through it all in her mind. She feels silly over it all. Looking away, she almost buries her head in her shoulder as tears well in her eyes. “I’m so stupid.”

Joel feels the fatherly instincts kicking in right away, “Look, I have no idea what that girl’s intentions are, but I do know that she would be lucky to have you.”

Ellie can barely get through his words, choking back the tears that form in her eyes. “You’re such an asshole.” It comes out almost like a whisper.

“I’m not trying-”

“I was supposed to die in that hospital,” Ellie says, hand hitting the railing. “My life would have fucking mattered, but you took that from me!” She looks down at her feet, trying to reign in her emotions.

Joel says nothing, racking his brain for the right words to say. All this time, and they still didn’t exist, but he knows he wants to stop her pain.

Joel eases up, straightening his back. The mug settles atop the banister as he inhales deeply. “If somehow the Lord gave me a second chance at that moment…” He thinks through his words, wonders if there's a better way to say it. “I would do it all over again.” He meets her eyes, determination set in his.

Ellie doesn’t move, just lets it sink in. Her face softs almost and then a flash of annoyance, acceptance maybe as he catches tears glistening in her brown eyes. She gives a slight nod, rocking back and forth, trying to figure out if she can actually do this. “Yeah…” The words are a tangle in her head, will and want at war with each other. “I just… I don’t think I can ever forgive you for that.”

Joel eases back against the banister, feeling as if she’s slipping through his grasp again, as if he hadn’t known those words would keep her at bay, floating around his orbit but never in it.

Ellie contemplates her words. She reconciles her feelings. She misses him too. “But… I would like to try.” Her face twists up as she fights the tears.

Moisture instantly pools in Joel’s eyes, emotions over taking him. He doesn’t like to show this side, he rarely does, but the relief that washes over his body is all consuming. He thought he’d lost her for good, and now here she is telling him she wants to try. She wants to forgive him. That’s enough for him, more than enough, and more than he deserves.

Ellie lets out a long breath, tension easing from her body, like a weight was lifted, extracted from her. She feels lighter.

“I’d like that,” Joel says, getting caught up on the words.

They both nod slightly, almost in unison, like they actually share genetics.

“Okay,” Ellie says, almost like she doesn’t know where to go from here. She rocks back on her heels, catches Joel’s profile in the light. “I’ll see you around.”

“Yep.”

Joel clears his throat as Ellie turns to leave.

She’s at the bottom of the steps before he manages to pull it out. It’s not overly affectionate or loud, but it’s warm, solid. “I love you, Kiddo.”

She turns, surprised. There’s a brief uptick in her tightly drawn lips, but it’s a smile nonetheless. “You too, Old Timer.”

You’re half asleep when Joe crawls into bed next to you. You let out a soft sigh, hand falling to his chest. “How’d it go?” you ask, eyes opening to mere slivers.

Joel kisses your head. “Said she wants to try to forgive me.”

A sleepy smile finds your face. “Good.”

Joel chuckles, kissing your head. “Goodnight, Sweetheart.”

You smile. “Love you.”

“I love you too.”

You let out a soft sigh, letting sleep take you under.

Joel lays awake that night, staring up at the ceiling, hand tucked under his head. His body is weary from the night, the dance, is confrontation with Seth and Ellie. He feels the ache of his 63 years in his joints, his back, but nothing covers up the deep seeded contentness that settles over him.

He turns his head to look at you, fast asleep on your side facing him. You’re not quite tucked into him, arms and legs pressing against him. The exchange of body heat beneath the sheets is enough to stave off the winter chill. His lips tip upward.

He’s happy, undeniably so. Here with you next to his side. With the knowledge that Ellie wants to forgive him. With His two other children sound asleep in their rooms, tucked into beds where they feel safe.

He pulls his hand from under his head, tracing the soft lines of your face, the bow of your top lip with his fingertips. You bristle softly, like his touch tickles, but you don’t stir. Joel knows you’re out for the night.

He kisses your cheek, takes your free hand in his and kisses your knuckles before placing it over his beating heart, your hand sandwiched between his chest and palm. He should go to sleep. He has an early patrol with Tommy in the morning, but his mind buzzes with a quiet joy, keeping his eyes wide open. So he lays there, intent on memorizing the sound of your soft breathing, the warmth of your hand on him, and all the other little moments that lead him to this place in time.

It’s some time before sleep tugs him under, but his eyes flutter shut with you in his periphery, lulled to sleep with the assurance he’s where he’s supposed to be.

Tag List: @pedrotonin @amyispxnk @joeldjarin @ilovepedro @justagalwhowrites

@missladym1981 @jessthebaker @annieispunk @ashleyfilm @moel-jiller

@eloquentdreamer @lizzie-cakes @hiroikegawa

#joel miller #Woman (Joel miller)#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou hbo #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #ppcu fanfiction #pedro stories #pedrostories #pedro pascal

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simping-overload · 6 months

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ᴀ ᴛɪᴇꜰʟɪɴɢꜱ ᴛᴀɪʟ - ᴄʟᴏᴛʜꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴀɪʟ (ᴀꜱᴛᴀʀɪᴏɴ)

a/n: a tieflings tail is a 10+ chapter series involving bg3 men and a variety of scenarios with tiefling tavs tail

tags: gn tav, tailor astarion, fluff, 531 words

synopsis: Astarion makes you a sleeve for your tail to keep it warm during the winter months.

『read on ao3』

ヾthis is a multi-fandom blog that is designed for mlm/nbmlm identifying readers! so if you're female or fem please do not follow or interact with my mlm related post!! you will be blocked if you do not heed this warning ゛

Over the course of your adventures with your ever-growing group, Astarion appointed himself as the tailor. Stitching together any holes and tears, he’d find in someone’s clothing.

According to him, he refuses to allow himself to be seen with people who look like disgusting hobos.

He’s mainly self-taught, but after Halsin joined the party, he’s learning from him as well. Halsin himself was taught by his mother and, along the way, picked up more unconventional tricks when he looked after the children of the Emerald Grove.

You are his test dummy to try his newly found tricks on. Though, not only because you’re his lover, but because you’re usually the one who ends up with the most tears and holes in your clothes.

Just as you were now, standing in Astarions’ tent as he patches up your clothing. Some are from old tears, and others are from completely new ones in different places.

Astarion, per usual, grumbles out his disappointments. “By the gods’ love, can you ever just not rip your clothes to shreds anytime you leave camp?”

You suppress your shrug, wanting to avoid getting jabbed with a needle again. “Sorry, Star, we both know that isn’t possible.”

Astarion scoffs, rolling his eyes as he completes the last stitch. Stepping back, he tugs on the fabric, making sure his stitches are secure, and hopefully won’t be teared for at least another few weeks.

It doesn’t seem he’s done as when he stepped away to rummage through his belongings. You stay in your spot, tail curling in curiosity. He turns back around with a long piece of cloth in his hand.

“What’s that?”

“I’m not sure what to name it but, it’s for your tail. Since winter is nearing, I wanted to make you something for your tail. Just to keep you warm.”

You don’t have the heart to tell him that you don’t need one. Since you're a Tiefling, your body heat was more than enough to keep you warm during the winter months.

“Thank you, Star.”

He hummed in response, pulling the long sleeve up your tail and fastens so it won’t fall off. He left a small hole in the end for the tip of your tail to poke out, since you’ve told him before you don’t like that part of your tail being surrounded by anything since it’s the most sensitive there.

You looked at yourself in the mirror. It didn’t look bad at all. The color compliments your skin tone. Twirling and moving your tail around, you get a feel for it. It’s quite comfortable against your skin and were you more susceptible to the cold, you’d for sure be able to keep warm with this.

You hop down from the stool, turning to Astarion. “I like this a lot, love and rest assured I will keep it intact.”

Astarion snorts, grabbing your hand and pulls you to him. “You better, or I’ll make sure you wake up bloodless the next morning, hm?” He teases.

You fake an offended gasp. “You wouldn’t dare.” Leaning down, you press your forehead against his.

“Oh, love, but I would.” He giggles and places a soft kiss on your lips.

#bg3 #bg3 x tav #bg3 x reader #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion and tav #astarion x tiefling #astarion x tiefling reader #tieflings #tielfing #tieflings tail #x gn reader #x male reader #astarion x male reader

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 10 months

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SINS OF A LAUGHING SKYLARK (XV)

|| COV MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER XVI ||

PAIRING: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 5.0k

WARNINGS: Blood, wounds, angst, use of guns & weapons, military operations, death, shootings, interrogation tactics, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Sitting in a guarded building halfway across the base, your ears twitch at every little sound from beyond the door.

Alex is here—so are three other men who fiddle with the guns in their hands and try not to stare at your deathly still face. You haven't spoken a word, and your mother, who sits with a medic stitching up her arm, calls out quickly.

“I-I don’t even remember what he looked like,” she breathes and Alex has a hand on her shoulder, squeezing while his blue eyes dart back from the door to her tear-stained face.

“It’s alright, Ma’am. We have cameras all around here. No worries.” He smiles tightly. “Let’s just focus on gettin’ you stitched up.”

The words are so similar to what Kyle would say to you that your hands clench under your chin, your body leaning forward in the chair. Your elbows dig into your knees harshly, and your unmarred leg quivers to jump up and down, restrained only by your iron will.

It was supposed to be me.

Your tongue pokes out to lick your lips, a slow breath pushed out on tight lungs.

It was supposed to be me.

Lowe is dead—Laswell had been brief in her explanation. Shot between the eyes. Your mother's attack had been a distraction, and while people had been rushed to her location, someone had gone in and killed Joey just as you’d seen someone do in the execution videos.

He’d warned you, too.

“I’m not someone's pawn,” you mutter under your breath, only heard to your ears. It was getting harder and harder to deny that every win on your part had been a set-up. Laswell had told you that you knew the answer already, you just couldn’t admit it to yourself—what did that mean? All you had were fractions; moments that were slowly piecing together.

“Shooter coming in from the East,” Alex’s radio buzzes, just as all the others do. From what you’d learned when Kate had pushed you in here, there were a handful of hired guns that had broken past the checkpoint only minutes after Gaz’s plane had taken off.

“How are there so many threads,” you grunt. “Why is there so much going on right when I’m at the edge?”

At every instance, all progress was halted.

“Bar the door. You,” Alex motions to one of the soldiers. “With me.” All in the room are more tense than lions. Alex and the rest rush to the door frame, leaning against it as the third man barricades the door with a chair under the handle.

“It’s like I’m being…watched,” you whisper, brows furrowing. “Even down to when the reporters had shown up at the mansion right after I found the journal—”

“Sweetheart,” your mother calls quickly, worriedly. “Get away from the door.”

You ignore her, your face grim and your pulse echoing.

“Ex-military being used as mercenaries. Leverage.” Your eyelids flutter. “Lowe said Samson had girls; a family. Could that have been something to use against him? Is it being used against other people now? A trail like this leaves behind blood—was Samson killed to try and cover it when it went South?”

And again, the biting question even you turn up blank on—

“Why was he told he had to kill me? Why was he told he had to kill anyone?”

Forget drugs; weapons. If you had to guess…Yaromir Osipov and Mala Kham weren’t even involved in this as much as everyone else believed. A setup? A lie?

By who? For what?

“What does this mean,” you growl, hands moving up to grasp the back of your head, your skull tilting forward. “None of this is adding up.”

Gunshots ring in the hallways outside of this room.

Only desperate men and women would storm a military base knowing that nothing they did would assure their victory. It was stupid. Reckless.

It was utter fear of something far larger than themselves.

This was never about your father’s smuggling business. This ran deeper than you could have ever anticipated.

Your mother’s voice calls your name harshly. “Over here. Now!”

“You need to stop lying to me,” you stand and hear your cane clatter to the floor. Your leg shakes, almost sending you over when you press your full weight on it, but nothing compares to the fire inside of your breast.

You walk over to your mother and stare into her eyes.

She startles, blinking quickly; taken aback.

“W-what are you talking about?”

“You know what dad did, don’t say you didn’t.” Your face burns—lungs fast-paced. Alex calls to you from behind, but even the medic who pauses at your sudden hostility doesn’t interfere. “You can lie to everyone else, but you can’t do that to me. You fucking knew.”

“You watch your language,” she snaps, eyes going enraged. “What are you even saying to me? Your father? What does he have to do with this?”

Your hands jerk, taking the woman by the tops of her shoulders. She yelps, surprise alighting in her expression.

“What are you—?!”

“Tell me the truth!” You yell. “You knew he worked in the smuggling business this entire time—you knew about his dealings with Yaromir and Mala before I was even born, admit it! The drugs, the weapons; his damn dock with all of his goods! You’re not being honest with me, even three years after he’s gone.” Your face is hot with anger. “If you didn’t see the traces of it, you’re blind.”

The room is utterly silent.

Your mother opens and closes her mouth, face open to the air like she’d seen innocent people get shot in front of her—like she’d had to run for her life because of someone else’s sins.

“Tell me what you knew,” you hiss, grasping her shoulders tighter. “Tell me what you hid.”

“You’re sick,” she breathes, looking around at the others. But Alex will be no help, nor the soldiers. They guard the door, eyes snapping back and forth. The medic only watches, unprepared for your outburst. “She hasn’t been feeling well lately.”

“Tell me!”

“Spitfire,” Alex’s yell makes your body pause, eyes narrowed in distrust as the sounds from outside get louder. Blinking out of whatever stupor you’d been in, your face freezes at the nickname, and your subconscious flashes to Kyle.

Stepping back quickly, you drop your mother’s arms and look away; shame settling in the lines on your forehead. But you pointedly don’t apologize, only moving back quickly and moving to press the heels of your palms into your eye-sockets.

Kyle. The shootings. Lowe. Samson. Blood on your hands, blood on your hands, blood on your hands.

It was supposed to be me.

You take a quivering breath, spine bending forward.

Gunshots continue to boom, on and on, and you feel your mother's eyes on you; unwavering in her constant attention.

There isn’t a single part of you that can look back.

—

You stare at the phone as it sits in your hand, your limping leg walking slowly along the tiled floor. The entire building was set on lockdown—along with the base. This place, however, was now filled with trusted personnel; soldiers that had served for far longer than you’d just learned Joey had.

Only one deployment had been under his belt, but that was enough to meet Samson. It was enough to know his character.

Maybe everyone involved in this plot hadn’t suspected the Private because there was never anything to be suspicious about.

Your face hadn’t let up on its tension, not for a minute, but in this tiny instance of relative calm—in some devoid hallway—you slipped into a storage room and stopped. Taking down a deep breath, your eyes flutter as your phone illuminates cleaning supplies.

Tapping into your contacts, your thumb hovers over one of the only icons set there.

Swallowing down saliva, your fingers twitch before, without enough time to tell yourself to stop, you press harshly and move the device up to your ear.

Standing in the darkness, you let your eyes slip closed.

The ringing persists, putting you into some kind of trace the longer it goes on.

Ring…ring…ring…ring. Nothing.

You scoff, eyes opening as the phone dips down. Your hands shake over it.

“Figures.” Shrugging, your heart sinks heavily in your chest. Taking a firm step forward, your hand moves to let the device slip into your coat’s pocket before the sudden buzzing of it startles you. Head snapping down, your face blanks as you stare at the incoming call.

‘Brit’

Only a moment passes before you take a deep breath and settle the phone back at your ear, tapping at the green button.

There’s a long second of silence before a soft clearing of a throat.

“Sorry, Love. Was getting ready for bed.”

You forgot the nine-hour time difference. Mouth opening and closing, you ignore how your body sags at the smooth tone—that accent. He sounded tired, and in the background, you could hear the rustle of sheets. You had a sneaking suspicion he’d, in fact, been in the bed instead of getting ready for it.

“I can call back later,” you mutter, already pushing off the awkwardness that perpetuates the line. Hell, he didn’t even know about what happened when he left. Do you tell him?

“Woah, woah, hey.” A small chuckle. “No, it’s okay. Good to hear from you.”

“...Yeah,” you grunt, feet shifting.

Another long silence permeates like a lingering curse.

“...Everything going alright, then?” Is the slow and even question; a bead of hesitation. He wasn’t sure how to speak to you like this, and, neither did you. “No messes I need to clean up?”

Your body stills.

“Only the ones you make yourself,” you sigh, huffing. A slow infection of guilt hits you. “I don’t know why I called…this is stupid.”

Kyle makes a noise over the line. “You want me to hang up?”

“No,” you whisper after a second, head moving along the walls to look at the various items slowly. “I…I just don’t know. Things are weird.”

Feet shifting, your eyes lightly flinch at the pull of your stitches. While you’d been feeling slightly better physically, meaning the vomiting and the lightheadedness, there were still aftershocks. You were well enough to grab your own food now, and when you made your own coffee, you weren’t shocked at all to find it tasting better immediately.

“You?” Your voice asks.

“Nah,” Kyle mutters. “Have nothing to do besides talk—been running around ever since I got here. Good to see the boys, though.”

“I’m sure they’re thrilled to have you back.”

“As thrilled as they’re able to get, eh?” Your lips quirk at that. The near-kiss in your room strikes you in the stomach like a knife. “But it's been nice, minus the whole…being away part. Still don’t like how far away I am from you.”

“Careful,” you breathe. “Starting to sound like you like me over there.”

“Shit,” he laughs, and you fight the softness that washes your face at the sound. “You’re right. Better cut it off while I’m ahead.”

But the way his words still hold that serious edge makes your lips thin into a line. You wondered what your conversations would be about if you ever had the chance to calm down.

“The talk with Lowe? How’d it go, then?” A deep breath, trying to be casual. “Be honest with me here, Spitfire.”

Your eyes flinch a bit, your body shifting around as you tap your foot for a moment. People will look for you soon—you have to keep this quick. You’d just needed to hear his voice.

“It was another piece I can’t put together.” You end with that. “I feel like I’m running in circles over here, Garrick.”

Sheets rustle once more, a throaty grunt before a low breath. “I said it’ll all work out, yeah? You have to believe it will, Love. We have to keep pushing until it breaks.” A smirk is easily heard. “We all know how you like breaking things, Sweetheart.”

You raise a slow brow, smiling even if he can’t see your expression. “You know I like having you over a call—it means I can stop hearing your voice whenever I want.”

“You going to hang up on me?”

“You know, I might.”

“Nah, you wouldn’t,” Kyle teases. “You called me, remember that?”

“And now I’m regretting it,” your voice is low and sly; face hot.

Gaz chuckles, and your own mirrors before your heart slows to a steady pulse the longer this conversation moves on. You’d called him for a reason, and, steadily, whatever this was doing…it was making your mind slip back into a tranquil state. Part of you wanted to sit on the floor—roll up in a blanket and talk. About anything; about everything.

But you really needed to see his face, too.

Your tongue skates over your teeth, and you hum under your breath. “I’m thinking about asking Laswell for the USB. Try that code one last time. Think she’ll give it to me?”

Kyle’s sound momentarily stops.

“Spitfire…”

“Don’t try to talk me out of it,” your voice is low. “Please, Kyle, I just need someone on my side with this. Will Kate give me a chance to crack the USB?”

Perhaps sensing how off-kilter you are, the Brit relents with a tiny sigh and a slow response.

“I can call her—try to get on her good side.”

“Does she have one?” You quirk a brow.

“Classified.” Chuckling, your eyes stare off, delicate in every sense of the word. Like an arachnid, you dwell in this back room waiting to be caught—if only a few more moments to try and make your web; a small silk hammock of brown eyes and smooth words.

“Thank you,” your voice whispers. “Sorry for waking you up.”

“If I didn’t want to talk, I wouldn’t have called back.” He huffs a few laughs, sheepishly admitting to you. “Accidentally slapped the phone to the floor, actually.”

An unexpected laugh is pushed from your lungs.

“Why the hell would you do that?”

“Wasn’t like I meant to, Love. Startled me.”

Your eyes roll, amusement in your tone. “Startling the SAS Sergeant—I should get a medal for that.”

“Not until you get me the one you were talking about before. Still waiting for it.”

Your legs shift over the floor. “The one with ‘idiot’ on the plaque?”

“That’s the one.”

Your expression goes to exasperation, but the smile doesn’t leave. “Why would you want something like that?”

“Well, you’re the one giving it to me, aren’t you?” The deep tease strikes you in the throat, and you have to discreetly clear your throat so he won’t hear the heat rising to your face.

“Cheeky,” you, dryly, state.

“I liked it.”

“Go back to bed, Sergeant,” your grinning face is stuck to the door’s face, trying to study the woodgrain in the darkness.

“...Yes, Ma’am.” There’s a pause where you wait for the other to hang up, though the cut of the line is absent from both parties. Kyle’s voice smoothly comes back to grace your ears. “Call you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, okay,” you nod, knowing he can’t see you.

“Okay…try to get some sleep tonight, Spitfire. I’m one phone call away if you need me.”

“I—” You cut yourself off, the strange sentence being choked down in your throat like a cinder block. Eyes blinking, you partially startle at the words that nearly slipped out of you to the awaiting ear on the other side.

“Right,” you quickly move the phone from your ear and hang up.

Standing stiffly in the storage room, your blank eyes dig ahead, and with a shaky breath, you stumble forward.

Moving out into the hallway, you swiftly backtrack to your room.

—

Sitting in your room, you insert the USB into a new laptop and lick at your lips.

“I’m sorry about…before,” your mother walks over, placing a plate of food down in front of you along with your coffee cup. You blink up at her, a sheen of embarrassment layering itself like paint along your eyes. “I was just overwhelmed. It isn’t an excuse, I know, but…I,” you pause. “I feel bad.”

Your mother sighs, and her hand comes up to rest on top of your head. “I knew.”

Eyes snapping up, you freeze.

“I never told you about it, because I knew it would ruin how you saw him.” She breathes lowly. “You don’t get to choose who you end up loving. It happens and then it sticks until something else pries it loose. You don’t have to apologize to me.”

Watching her, your fast words fumble over themselves. “But what about the drug—”

“I only knew the surface,” she backs up, shaking her head. “I would appreciate it if we left it at that, please. Even if we had our problems, he was the love of my life; when he died, I shut it all out. I had to.”

You look away swiftly, but it’s a long time before you can answer her. You had no reason to think she was lying about this. All of it added up to you.

A kiss is pressed into your scalp. “Eat up. Keep your strength.”

Watching her walk out of the room, your attention is torn away by the laptop booting up, eyes darting to it.

Questions on questions on questions.

Taking up your coffee, you sip at it slowly. Setting it down, you cringe at the taste. Stifling a cough haggardly into your arm, you rub at your thigh before getting to work.

—

Kyle rubs his face, sighing deeply. “This is all we've got?”

“And that’s being generous,” MacTavish mutters, sending a slow glance. “Laswell wasn’t lying to you—we have shit-all.”

“How is that even possible,” the Sergeant mutters, standing straight once again. He’d been bent over the countless mission reports for more than an hour, all fruitless beyond thin leads to individuals connected to your father’s business dealings.

“Rats are used to staying in their holes,” Ghost grumbles from the other side of the table, dark eyes shifting to where their Captain comes in from the main door to the meeting room.

A hand is slapped on Gaz’s shoulder.

“Good to have you back, Sergeant.” Brown eyes glance at him, a smirk flickering Kyle’s lips.

“Good to be here, Sir. Let’s get this finished.”

Price nods firmly, a hard expression on his bearded face. With strong legs, he moves to the head of the table and grunts his orders.

“Current HVT is in Tula,” he utters in that gruff accent. “It's the only lead we have—this isn’t something we can miss.” Gloved fingers reach out to the interior blueprints of a small townhouse. “Two teams will move interior and connect the dots. If this target is in possession of any intel involving Osipov and Kham, we need to find it. Soap, you’re with Ghost, Garrick you stick with me. Total, we’ve got two teams of five involving local assistance.”

The Scot knocks forearms with his silent counterpart, and Gaz nods at the Captain in understanding. “Time frame?”

Blue eyes glance at the Sergeant. “We have a window of thirty minutes for prep and transport. We need to move fast.” Price huffs, fixing his hands onto the collar of his combat vest. “There’s the possibility of non-combatants on site. Check your shots.”

The debrief is quick and thorough, and that night everything comes to a head.

Kyle’s body soon sits in the back of an armored vehicle, a night-vision rig on his head, rifle in his arms, and his body hunched forward on the seat. In the back of his pocket, his phone sits—set to mute even if he yearned to take it up and see if you’d called him.

Being away made him nervous for you. Such relentless pursuers…but he had to believe that the actions he’s taking here will make all the difference in the end. Keller can watch after you and your mother; he placed his faith in the Agent before, and he can do it again.

But there was an ever-present pressure on his chest that won’t leave. A weight. Some kind of fishing hook stuck into the back of his brain that pulls every so often, dragging him back to the pole.

He needed to get this over with as quickly as possible and try to find a way to get back to you. Even that first phone call had been layered with hesitation—you weren’t telling him something.

That only made him more worried.

“Garrick,” Price’s voice snaps him out of it, brown eyes snapping up from where they’d been spacing out. His Captain’s voice is low. Steady. “On you.”

The vehicle had come to a stop. Blinking, Gaz nods quickly. “Right.” Hand reaching out, it settles heavily to the side door and pushes after a glance to everyone in the seats.

Boots hit to concrete in muffled thumps, bent knees taking weight as eyes scan relentlessly like wolves.

It was deep night—a night where the air is even still in slumber. Mist hung like a pale shroud, and over puddles in the potholes, Kyle’s focus instantly hardened as he splashed through them.

Now wasn’t the time to think, it was the time to act.

He hurries down a long stretch of alley between the target’s house and the one beside it, slinking along with his rifle’s stock pressing into the clutch of his shoulder. His cheek rests against the side, breathing slowly.

Adrenaline overtakes his heart.

Conforming to the side entrance of the townhouse, he waits as Price moves past him to the other side. They look at one another, the bodies of the other soldiers surrounding them. Over the coms, Ghost’s voice comes through.

“In position.”

“Let’s do this,” Kyle grunts, intent on Price’s expression. A moment of silence passes—only the anticipatory carnage that’s to follow; unthinking minds as fingers pull triggers. Instinct.

The Captain gives a quick nod, and the hunt starts.

After a quick breaking of the door, they all move interior. The skeletal-faced Lieutenant and the Demolitions Expert take the upper floor working down with their team, and below, Garrick and Price do the same, going up.

Sneaking nearer to the kitchen, Gaz lays eyes on two men taking near the dining room. Body flattening against the door frame, his Captain mutters to him as he passes the opening undetected. “Drop ‘em.”

It’s a quick end—the only sound is the metallic clink of shell casings and the thump of bodies. Behind the Sergeant, one other soldier follows at his six.

Dead eyes stare ahead as Garrick passes, and he glances at them only once before moving on.

Waiting at the stairs, Kyle re-joins the main unit, and after a quick once-over, they all begin ascending as more sounds from the level above are picked up on twitching ears. The sharp hushing of civilians—the drop of bodies. It’s all familiar, but somewhat jarring after being away from it for so long.

Part of him had gotten used to the trials of VIP work.

There’s a shout from just above, and the rush of the job comes in a fast wave. The coms alight.

“We’ve got the bastard.” Soap’s sharp voice bounces off the walls and their ears, going through the house.

“Good,” Price barks. “Stay where you are.”

Cautiously, yet quickly, all of the men regroup where their HVT is being held—in his office near the South corner.

“Shura Makarovich Agapov,” the Captain’s voice is a low rasp as his body thumps forward. It was plain to tell that this game was getting on his nerves. Lead after lead drying up more than water in a desert.

This man was all they had.

Gaz blinks at him as the other soldiers move about the office, grasping papers with quick fingers and looking through them—looking for anything of importance. Lowering his rifle back to his chest, the Sergeant studies the walls; eyes slipping over hung-up maps.

“You’re going to tell me about your superiors,” Price’s voice lowers to a harsh whisper as he nears the man.

Shura Makarovich is a large man. Sure of his body so much so that Ghost had tightened the restraints until he saw the Russian’s hands start to go blue. Johnny’s grip never leaves his weapon.

“I do not speak to men who follow orders,” the man eases out casually as if not at all disturbed by the death of his friends and the arrest of his family. “Only the ones who give them.”

“I’d say I’m giving more orders than you right now, eh?” Price taunts, head tilting as he addresses the squad. “Anything?”

“Nothing yet, Sir.”

Price’s jaw clenches. “Yaromir Osipov. Where is he?”

“Yaromir Osipov?” Shura Makarovich’s face twitches. He seems confused for a moment, and Gaz clocks it instantly. The Sergeant’s brows pull in slowly as the hostage flips his tune. “...Why would I tell you that?”

He doesn’t know him, Gaz knows.

Price kneels down as papers are tossed and pushed to the floor; Kyle’s brain working overtime.

If he doesn’t know about Yaromir, then why was he an HVT at all? Why did the thread lead to him? His boots take him across the floor, moving to the papers on the desks, moving them as Soap asks a low question as to what he’s doing. Kyle shrugs him off, looking for something that could explain things.

“Ghost,” Price mutters, and the Lieutenant moves out into the hallway quickly. The Captain looks deeply into Shura Makarovich’s eyes before standing.

There’s a commotion from outside; yelling, before Ghost returns with a woman in hand, harshly pulling her over the ground until her feet stumble.

Gaz’s eyes shoot up, and he goes deathly still.

The woman only speaks in Russian, glancing at her confidant quickly and calling his name. Shura seems taken aback, blinking rapidly.

“What are you doing?”

“Where’s Yaromir?” Price gets up and moves back. Shura makes a play to bolt up, but Soap’s hand shoves him harshly back down.

“Stay the fuck down,” the Scot growls.

“What is this?!” Kyle watches, stiffly standing from a few feet away. All of it was…your face flashes through his mind, and before he can tell himself to stop, he’s moving over to Price on heavy legs.

“Captain,” he slips beside the man, his voice nothing but a murmur but the sharp shock is no trick on the senses. “What’s the play here?”

Blue eyes move slowly his way, face twitching.

“Sergeant, set aside,” Kyle’s expression tightens, dark eyes darting to the woman that Ghost holds.

“Price, I can’t—”

“You can leave if you need to, Garrick.”

“This isn’t the way we have to do things,” Gaz’s voice lightly raises, and that’s all it takes for Price to grasp his shoulder and take him out of the door firmly.

Getting lightly pushed out into the hallway, the Captain’s grim face swivels as the door is tapped closed with a boot.

“Are you in or out, Sergeant?” Is leveled at him without emotion. “We don’t have time to play morality games. You’re either in that room with me, or you aren't. Which is it?”

“We can’t have a repeat of three years ago,” Kyle’s expression is troubled, his once sure mind fracturing.

This wasn’t right.

“Price, there has to be another way.” Blue eyes don’t blink at him, but the Captain’s low sigh and the fix of his feet are all the words needed.

“Stay out,” Price eases, eyes moving over the Sergeant’s face. A hand pats Gaz on the arm, and soon the Captain disappears back into the room, closing the door behind him.

It wasn’t disappointment that the man had given Kyle—it would never be that. But some things had to be done.

Some people had to get dirty to keep others clean.

“Fucking…” the Sergeant trails, head moving in aggression and his legs shifting. His hand comes up and rubs at his chin, eyes half-closed in concern.

You’d gone and messed with his head.

Kyle’s mind flashes to you—the way your eyes had gazed into his as your lips had been so close. Your breath over his face. Even the pound of your pulse when he’d put his hand to your forehead to check your temperature.

How your body would melt when he pulled you out of nightmares.

This wasn’t right.

It had all been his fault. It was the type of guilt that he’d carry to the grave with him; one that would never leave for as long as he tried.

What he’d done to you…

“It’s fucking unforgivable,” he whispers under his breath, fingers tapping his rifle’s stock. He can’t let it happen to someone else.

“What am I missing,” Kyle urges himself, feet shifting along the floor. “There’s something there—what is it?! He doesn’t bloody know Yaromir, what does that mean?”

But what if Yaromir was never involved in this cell in the first place?

Brown eyes spark as a sharp scream echoes from under the door. Barreling through with a slam of wood, the words coming out of Gaz’s mouth are loud, but oh so steady.

It’s as clear as day.

“We know about the location in China.”

Wide eyes from all around jerk back to him, and Price’s face slashes from shocked to enraged in a mere second.

“What the fuck are you—?”

“Chiyou,” Kyle barks, moving closer on fast feet until he’s taken Shura by the collar of his shirt and forced him to his feet. The Russian’s eyes are jumping, his mouth opening and closing.

Gaz’s face leans in close, searching for it—for the one emotion he needs from him to prove the lie he’s spewing from your hypothesis is correct. Behind him, the tiny sobs from the woman are muffled by her hands.

“We know all of it is centered in Eastern China.”

At the fast sweep of fear, Garrick already knew he had won.

You’d been right.

Without another word, the Sergeant lets Shura drop and walks out of the room—already on the phone with Laswell.

TAGS:

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benevolentcalamity · 7 months

Text

Code: S.O.S [Epil.][Xenomorph x Fem!Reader]

Hey, I'm back, did you miss me? I felt this needed an extension since cliffhanger endings in... Really anything are the worst if there's not gonna be a sequel.

And for you thirsty bitches that wanted monsterfuckery with the Xenomorph - are you okay by the way - you get a one-shot. If it's popular enough, I'll make a full-fledged series. Scout's honor.

Also, I had an anon before that was digging this series. I hope they come back to see the redone Chapter 3. (Yea I think about anons that give me genuine criticism, what about it)

CURTAINS!

"Vitals are stable, and the medicine's been administered. [Last Name], can you hear me?"

Through the shining haze, you find Yutani's face, squinting as even the minute aches in your legs are ground to nothing. As the anesthesia courses through your blood, she tugs a clipboard and writes on it with precision and speed inhumanly possible. Before long she's finished four forms and put the clipboard back aside.

Comforting, her gloved hand reaches and undoes a few tangles in your oily hair. "How are you feeling?"

After a moment your lips manage to part. "... Hungry..."

A soft chuckle, and she pats your shoulder. Looking over to another crew member, she raises her head. "Tran? We're still well-stocked on supplies, right? Please make sure we have some stew, if possible, after the surgery."

"Understood, Doctor." Some footsteps, and your chin is lifted from your head falling to your chest - and the moving equipment.

"Don't look at the surgery, look at me, alright?" She instructs. Once she has your full attention she sighs, relieved. "I hope you don't mind, we managed to clean out the rest of that ship. The Far Reach is lucky, to have had only one of those creatures on it. You're very brave, to have fought it on your own."

Swallowing, you manage a nod. "... Anderson...?" Your eyes are too tired to move.

"Anderson is okay." She accompanies this with a minute glance toward the door. "... We're very lucky we found you so soon. The alien inside your chest isn't big enough to be a risk to your life during the surgery."

You lift your head, and she stops your motion of looking once more.

"... Do I smell bad?" Maybe a dumb question would help lift your mood.

Yutani chuckles deep in her chest, patting your shoulder. "Like you just crawled out of a bonfire on a carrier ship." The jovial tone in her voice helps you relax further, with her eye flickering towards your chest, and then the monitors. "... Here, allow me."

Before you can question her, her hand sets the pen aside, and rests over your eyes. Harshly you drag a lip between your teeth, inhaling sharply. Weirdly no pain, but you feel the sensation of something clinging onto and then being forcefully removed from near your heart. For a moment your chest spasms from the feeing, with a grotesque squelch and a series of hisses to follow.

Right when you can bear the mystery no more, the machine makes a buzz and a few harsh clicks, before something wet snaps in two. By the time Yutani lifts her hand, the machine is beginning the process of stapling and stitching you back together.

"Not a minute too soon." A relieved sigh makes her heave.

"... Have you done this before?" You ask, eyes falling to the process. By her reaction, the worst part of it is over, and you have no reason to really be scared. Apart from, well, surgery being something you'd rather not be awake for.

"Mhm. This was made... shortly after the discovery of the Xenomorphs," She replies. "We're approaching the finishing of backbursters as well."

What? "Back... bursters...?"

"Oh. There's a mixture of Yautja and Xenomorph out there. While few, we must be prepared for every kind we meet." She taps the pen to her brow along this train of thought. "The only way to win is not to meet them, but should we, well, we're prepared now."

The intercom beeps, both of you raising your heads. An instinctive wish to not be alone has you reaching for Yutani as she retreats to answer it.

Pressing the button, she clears her throat. "Yutani."

"Yutani," Tran's voice rings through. "A call came in for you. It's her."

"Right, send her through." A few seconds after Yutani's go-ahead, her phone rings. In one quick motion it's at her ear. "Hello? Yutani speaking." Then her lips curl upward. "Yes, she's awake and stable - being stitched up as we speak."

Her eyes flicker to meet yours, and the assurance calms you once more. With a nod and a tacit farewell, she passes the phone to you. Swallowing, you pray you don't sound raspy.

"Hello? [Last Name]."

"[Last Name]. My name is Ripley. Ellen Ripley." Her voice carries strength and resolve, like she had fought a thousand battles and remains who they made her into. "Do you have time?"

"Yes, absolutely. It's nice to meet you, Ripley."

#xenomorph #xenomorph x human #xenomorph x reader #i felt unsatisfied with not extending the ending hahaha #writers of tumblr #my writing #alien #alien vs predator #ellen ripley

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feyhunter78 · 2 months

Note

I’m actually DYING for part 14 of the Dreadful Need of the Devotee, like my pain is clinical and your writing is the only thing that will cure me 🙏

No rush of course, I’m just in love with this story!! (But please, I need it badly)

I got you babe!!!! Enjoy <3

Chapter Fourteen - Ser Arthur Dayne has returned to court. Ch 15

Jon sits in Tyrion’s solar, the small table that sits between you all laden down with breakfast foods and teas. He is seated across from Tyrion, while you are seated next to Jon across from Ser Arthur, your soon-to-be good-father.

Introductions had gone well, you complimented his father, he complimented you, your betrothal was announced, and Jon had to keep himself from kissing you. The joy that radiated from you was so intense, he could not help but smile like a lovesick fool. But now, now the doubts begin to creep in.

If he had been told at the age of two and ten, he would be sitting with his soon-to-be wife a Lannister, the Imp Lannister and Ser Arthur Dayne the Sword of the Morning who was also his true father, Jon would not have believed whoever spoke such things to him. Truly he would have thought them playing a cruel joke, but now he sat in that very position wondering if it would all be revealed a horrid prank. A test to see how much the bastard boy could be convinced to believe.

You place your hand atop Jon’s where it rests on his knee, your brows furrowing in concern, and he waves you off, focusing on the meal set in front of him. You and him often broke fast together, and it was not too uncommon for your father to join the both of you, but this time it was different.

“Lady y/n, your father tells me you are a talented seamstress.” His father says, cutting into his sausage, his eyes, those dark purple eyes, so like Jon’s in the right light, observe you with an oddly formal air.

“I am, in fact the tunic Jon is wearing this morn is one I made myself.” You say, gracing Jon with a smile so bright it rivals the sun, and he turns further towards you following it as crops do, ever reaching, ever seeking your warmth and light.

His father hums in acknowledgement, examining every stitch of his tunic. “It is well-made; and the embroidery is quite detailed. It is not what one would think a sworn sword would be given by his charge.”

“He is my champion, seen as an extension of myself, I would never leave my chambers in rags, or dull, dreary clothing, so why should my sworn sword?” You say, taking a sip of your tea, sizing the man up.

“An interesting perspective.” His father comments, his eyes flickering to Jon.

“I suppose so.” You respond, dabbing your mouth with your cloth napkin.

“She is also a wonderful dancer.” Jon adds, unsure of his place in the conversation. He has never before been privy to these situations, and it is both exhilarating and terrifying.

“I am only wonderful because I have such an excellent partner that allows me to keep my skills sharp.” You smile prettily at him, and he watches the mask slip into place, you are attempting to charm the father by charming the son.

“They are a most excellent pairing, even Robert before he oh so tragically passed said they would make a good couple.” Tyrion says, spreading strawberry jam onto a thick slice of bread.

If I were not a bastard. He said we would be a good match if I was not a bastard. Jon thought bitterly.

“It pains me to know my son had love within his grasp for so long and could not claim it, I would soon see that rectified.” His father says, pulling a folded letter from his pocket. “I have kept this for you, it is a signed statement from the septon that presided over your mother, and I’s wedding. It was quick, not the lavish affair I would have wished to give her, but it was true in the eyes of The Seven.”

Jon feels you lean into him, reading the letter along with him.

“I fear it will not be enough. Aunt Cersei tore up Uncle Robert’s will, what if someone does the same to this?” You ask.

“Your Uncle Robert was dead he could not defend his will, but Ser Arthur is here, in the flesh.” Tyrion says.

Jon folds the letter and returns it to his father. “When would this take place? I would like to inform my siblings; they should not hear it from strangers or gossip.”

“They know, Lord Stark told them and Lady Stark once I had confirmed Ser Arthur was alive and wished to see you.” Tyrion assures him.

Jon pokes at his eggs, the yolk running, yellow-orange liquid tainting the white outer edges. He is glad the truth is known, but will this change how they see him? Will little Arya no longer trust him, will she keep him at a distance as Sansa had now that he is revealed as an impostor, a stranger? And Robb, his brother, will he still call him by that name, will he still hold the same love for him? At least Lady Catelyn will no longer have reason to hate him, he is not proof of her husband’s indiscretions, but his love for his sister.

“Where does Jon fall in the line of succession for Starfell?” Y/N directs the question towards his father, bringing him out of his gloom-stricken thoughts. “I know Lord Edric Dayne is your eldest brother’s son, but he is still a child close to Arya’s age, and your sister does not yet have children, does this not make him third after you?”

His father smirks and leans forward, placing his elbows on the table. “Do you wish him to be second?”

You mimic his posture, voice deadly calm, face unreadable. “I do not condone the murder of children, even if it would catapult Jon to heir of Starfell. I was merely asking a question.”

His father laughs, the sound warm, boisterous, filling the room as he leans back in his chair. “Your father has taught you well, lioness. But yes, Jon is third, if Edric, Seven forbid, were to die then I would take the seat, and Jon would follow after me.”

“We need not worry about that though, he will be by my side at Casterly Rock, is that not right, Father?” You hold your position, eyes still on Jon’s father.

“I have not yet heard word back on our family’s succession, your grandsire still holds out hope that Jaime will leave the Kingsguard and return home.” Tyrion drawls, before taking a sip of his tea.

“But he will not, and even if he did, would it not be shameful?” You venture, stirring your own tea with the tiny spoon provided.

“We shall see what options lay before him when our new king takes the throne, he could take Jaime’s head.” Tyrion says, his eyes on his bread, he has still not taken a bite, Jon feels confident that Tyrion will not be eating this morn.

“I am sure Robb will be merciful to Uncle Jaime, perhaps he could send him to the Wall? As loathe I am to think of him being sent far away, I imagine his skills would be of good use there?” You turn to Jon for confirmation.

Jon’s stomach churns, he wishes to tell you the truth, that it matters not what Robb thinks. “Yes, they are always in need of skilled and hearty men.”

“Oh, and then we could visit him, could we not?” Again, your question is directed at him, and he fights back the bile rising in his throat. He did not like this new weight, this new secret he must keep from you.

“The Wall is a long journey, even from Winterfell.”

“No journey is too long when it comes to family.” You say, dismissing his spoken worries with a smile and a wave of your hand.

“Little lion, perhaps we save our travel plans for after the new king arrives?” Tyrion suggests, seeming unfazed by the half-truths that roll off his tongue.

“Of course, Father.” You say, giving him a smile and tucking back into your breakfast.

Jon cannot eat, he can barely swallow. He wants to tell you the truth, wants to throw you over his shoulder and run, run all the way to Winterfell and hide you there until all this chaos has subsided.

“I think a wedding in Dorne is completely out of the question Ser Arthur, do you really believe people would attend a Lannister wedding that is not held at Casterly Rock or the Red Keep?” Tyrion says, pulling him back into the conversation that had proceeded without him.

“But it is not a Lannister wedding, it is a Dayne wedding.” His father smiles, sending Jon a wink.

“My daughter is a Lannister, in the eyes of Westeros it is a Lannister wedding, and truly it must be held at Casterly Rock, gods know the Red Keep has seen enough weddings.”

“House Martell will not attend if it is at Casterly Rock, which means Myrcella will not attend.” His father reminds Tyrion.

“Father could it not be held somewhere more neutral? I so want Myrcella to be able to attend.” You ask, looking at him pleadingly.

“I am sure once the new king comes into power, the Martells will not hold the same anger towards our family as they once did.” Tyrion reassures you, reaching across the small circular table to pat your hand.

Yes, because all who they hold anger towards will be dead. Jon thinks solemnly, guilt eating him alive.

“I will trust you then.” You say, before turning to Jon’s father. “Ser Arthur, are there any marital traditions that you would like us to observed for the wedding?”

He thinks for a moment, resting his hand on his chin, the dark stubble so like Jon’s but flecked with gray. “There are none that come to my mind at the moment, but I will think on it and if any return to me, I will inform you.”

“No bedding ceremony.” Jon says, he will fight for this, not only to spare you the brutality, but as an apology for the secrets he must keep.

“I will not argue with that.” You laugh, picking up two strawberries and handing one to him as you bite into the other one.

Jon takes it from you, his teeth breaking the delicate flesh, the sweet juice tasting like ash on his tongue.

The look upon Cersei Lannister’s face when his father steps into Highgarden’s Great Hall, is enough to make Jon forget why he is even standing before the royal family. His father wears a cloak of lilac, the white sword and falling star crossed in the center proudly displayed, Dawn strapped to his side. His curls are cleaned and styled, his beard trimmed, his armor and boots shining. When he takes a knee bowing his head to Tommen, Jon does the same, feeling a flicker of excitement when their knees hit the floor at the same time. Perfect synchronicity.

“Ser Arthur?” The startled exhale of his father’s name escapes Ser Jamie’s lips before he can stop it, his conflicted expression betraying far more than simply shock. There is grief, rage, longing, and confusion all whirling within Ser Jamie’s widened emerald eyes.

“My King, I have come to ask that you legitimize my son. I have brought the parchment signed by the septon that married myself and Lady Lyanna Stark. Jon is not a snow, he is a Dayne, my trueborn and only child.”

Tommen does not move, does not speak, he looks at Margaery who has her hand in her grandmother’s.

“Let us see this parchment.” Lady Tyrell says, holding a wizened hand out.

His father rises, and Jon does as well, watching as he delivers the paper to Lady Tyrell, who shares it with Margaery.

“You were thought dead Ser Dayne, why did you not return to King's Landing to take up in the service of your new king when my husband ascended to the throne?” Cersei asks, her jade eyes alight with rage, sparking like wildfire.

“I was badly injured at the Tower of Joy and was unable to make the journey for many years.”

“Unable to make the journey and to retrieve your son, it seems.” Cersei drawls, skimming the parchment, then handing it to Ser Jaime.

Jon can see how his hands shake, the color draining from his face.

“I was told Lord Stark treated him kindly, as if he were his own son, it was better for him to remain there than at the bedside of a nearly crippled man.” The shame that colors his tone clearly tugs on Tommen’s heartstrings.

He has not dared to think what his life would have been like if he had lived with his father. All he knows is he would not have met you, and he does not consider that much a life at all.

Tommen clears his throat, looking at Margaery once more, she nods.

“Ser Dayne, you swore an oath, Kingsguard cannot marry or have children.” Cersei cuts in, stepping forward, her head held high.

Jon bites his tongue hard. The irony in her statement…

His father fares better, nodding his head towards her, his tone steady. “I am no longer a whitecloak, I lost the right to that title when I aided Prince Rhaegar in stealing away my dear Lyanna. I am only a knight of the realm now, Queen Mother.”

Tommen goes to speak, surely in agreement with his mother, but Margaery puts her hand on his arm and leans down to whisper in his ear.

Jon tries not to fidget, tries not to look at you, you who sits beside your father, dressed in a well-tailored gown the shade of pomegranates, your hair swept away from your face, a golden pendant around your neck. He will ruin it all if he looks at you.

His father puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly.

“In honor of my queen’s nameday I will grant her request. Ser Jon Snow, you shall no longer be a Snow, but a Dayne, Lord or Ser Jon, whichever you would like, of House Dayne, son of Ser Arthur Dayne the Sword of the Morning.” Tommen says, smiling brightly when Margaery plants a chaste kiss of thanks to his cheek.

His father gives his thanks, bowing low. Jon follows his example, keeping his expression grateful but neutral as they return to the sidelines, ducking behind the crowds of nobles as Tommen and Margaery begin to leave the hall. It is only when they have disappeared from view that his father embraces him, crushing him to his chest.

Jon returns the embrace, joy running wild through him.

His father pulls back, a wide smile on his tanned face. “My son, oh, it is good to say that aloud, to say it where anyone can hear. We must celebrate, do you have a preference for wine? ”

“No, Father.” Jon tests the word out, rolling it on his tongue, it feels strange but pleasant. “I do not.”

His father smiles. “We shall soon fix that, but first, you must return to your duties, no?” He jerks his head towards you.

Jon nods. “I must.”

TL: @mostclevermiss, @solacestyles, @2valentines, @sharknutz, @idohknow, @bdudette, @pluraldoggo, @legolastheleafyelf, @faerie-film, @wifiatthetrainstation, @duskypinki, @tartine-de-pain

#meg's writing #jon snow x reader #jon snow x y/n #jon snow x you #lannister!reader #jon snow imagine #got fanfiction #jon snow #Jon Dayne

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noxturnalpascal · 8 months

Text

Devotion 🖤 I. Stronger Together (Ch 3)

CultLeader!Joel x OFC!Reader

Series Summary: When is it enough? When is it too much? When does Devotion become Obsession?

Visit the Series Masterlist for series warnings, cult info, timeline info, and HCs on ages. Reader has a nickname and some minor physical descriptions - is an OFC from Reader POV.

*This series is 18+ MDNI. I will not be listing individual chapter warnings as I don't want to spoil the plot of each chapter. Please see the series masterlist for entire series warnings to decide if this is for you.*

LAYOUT OF JOEL'S HOUSE PREVIOUS

I. Stronger Together

CH 3 (5.3k) One afternoon you come back with Bianca from your baths and Tess informs you that you’ll now be accompanying Joel to one of his weekly community meetings. There are the three nights a week that you all leave the house, but Joel also goes out after dinner the other four nights of the week, interacting with different groups in The Valley. Tess has always accompanied him to his Thursday meeting and she lets you know that you’ll be taking her place.

At the meeting he introduces you to the group, which is comprised of farmers who live further down the Valley, outside the safety of the town. You learn that they come together every Thursday to bring in the animal products, take away food, trade supplies, discuss safety issues, and spend some time socializing. The evening meeting with Joel is the last thing they do before they head back to their land.

With each passing week, he watches you come out of your shell more and he’s impressed by your demeanor. You assist the older folks with getting a drink and a bite to eat. You make conversation with them, easily giving them your time and attention. You nod and listen when they speak with Joel about their concerns. Most importantly, you don’t overstep. You allow him to speak, giving them his practiced lines, finding solutions to their issues and pacifying their fears.

You however, feel like you’re struggling to find your place at the house. In your attempt to fix the holes in Joel’s socks you accidentally sewed the socks shut, leaving Tess to pull the stitches and mend them properly. Tess gives you some rags and asks that you clean all of the surfaces in the house. She stops you ten minutes later when you can’t stop sneezing from the dust. She assigns you to the laundry instead, but the cold, soapy water makes your hands break out in hives. She makes a joke about you being allergic to hard work, but she doesn’t laugh. You think she was joking.

Sometimes you work outside with Rosie in the mornings, but you hate getting all dirty and smelling like earthworms. You pull up too many weeds that aren’t weeds and she sends you inside, urging you to use your talents elsewhere. What talents? You tag along with Sasha sometimes, and listen as she tells you how to set a trap for small animals, but you feel completely useless at her side. She’s good at so many things and you feel like a clumsy oaf, even more so when you trip in the woods one afternoon and scare off the deer she’d been tracking for an hour. She doesn’t attempt to hide her irritation the way Rosie did.

Kerri and Bianca try to use your help in the kitchen, but you burn all of the chicken on the grill your first night cooking. They switch you to helping with preparing the meals, but you cut yourself so badly with the knife that Joel threatens to take you back to the clinic and give you more of his blood. You stand against the doorframe with your arm above your head for forty five minutes before it stops bleeding and he calms down. No more kitchen work for you, he mutters as he holds you on the couch later, letting you rest while everyone else cleans up the meal.

All of the women are too nice to give you the dirty looks that you think you deserve. They all earn their place here and what can you do? Nothing. You try not to be sad the day that your only friend at the house, Bianca, moves out. Is she actually your friend, or is she just too timid to tell you off? You go up to the attic to help her pack up her few belongings before Tess sends you downstairs to help Kerri pack up to leave the room she’s been sharing with Sasha.

You’re nervous that with Bianca gone you’ll be expected to take over her chores, which are a little bit of everything. You seem to mess up every chore you’re assigned. What the fuck are you supposed to do with yourself? As you walk down the stairs you hear Tess tell Bianca that this is for the best, and that she’s just getting bigger. You’d noticed Bianca gaining weight but you didn’t know that was a problem. Did Joel say something about her weight gain? Why would he care?

You let your thoughts spiral a bit, wondering if Joel cared about your weight, if he would ask you to leave if you put on more pounds. Fat and useless, what a combo that would be. You’re not exactly skinny as it is, and you’re not even as nice looking as Bianca, with her kind, warm, brown eyes and her long, chestnut hair. She’s very shy and nearly silent but she’s very pretty. You see men look at her. Most people don’t give you a second glance, but that’s the way you prefer it. There’s a reason you chopped all your hair off and wore tight bindings across your chest for months.

You don’t want men looking at you. When a man looks at you he’s only thinking about one thing. He’s thinking what he can get out of you, what he can take from you; except Joel, you tell yourself. Joel doesn’t look at you like that. Joel doesn’t take, he wouldn’t do that. He still looks at you with wonder. He still has so many questions in his eyes about you that you’ve been slowly trying to answer. Maybe if you let him in, show him you’re trying to trust, he won’t care that you aren’t as useful in the home as the other women.

–

Joel’s schedule is packed, making up for meetings he missed while he visited with you all day, every day in the clinic for nearly two weeks. It means you have less reading time together during the week, so your time together dwindles to holding hands under the table at mealtimes, quick smooches as he pulls you into his office between meetings, and nuzzling into each other outside your bedroom door in the mornings.

Your only real alone time now is walking to and from the meeting on Thursdays. Each week after the meeting ends the group members filter out, some staying back to help you put away the folding chairs. As a group, you all walk together to the town square before splitting up; them heading out of town while you and Joel head back to the house. Each of these evenings allows you two a few stolen moments alone on the porch of the house before returning inside.

First you just spend them with your foreheads touching, noses brushing, and shared giggles between your pressed together lips. The second week Joel drags you onto his lap on the front porch bench, kissing and licking at your neck while you card your fingers through his hair. You start to panic when you feel him getting aroused underneath you, but the terrified voice in the back of your mind is muted when the front door opens and Sasha comes out for firewood, interrupting and ending your time alone together.

The following week is Thanksgiving, one of the few holidays The Valley celebrates. Joel makes sure you’re sitting next to him at the head table. There is so much going on, almost every single person – save for a small patrol – is gathered together for this feast. Everyone joins hands above the table while someone makes a prayer, but Joel doesn’t let go of yours for a long time afterward.

Even though you haven’t been getting as much alone time together, Joel feels like you’re still growing ever-closer. He has you next to him for this holiday meal so he can show you off. He wants everyone in The Valley to see that you trust him, that you’re becoming his. He notices your wide eyes scan the room, overwhelmed by the very large crowd of people and the raucous event. He leans over and whispers in your ear.

“What are you thankful for, baby?”

He sees your eyes cast down, trying to hide a shy smile. You squeeze his hand and meet his eyes. He squeezes yours back to ground you, to reassure you, like he’s taming a feral little animal.

The following week as you and Joel put away the chairs after the meeting, you hear a man call out a goodnight and you look up just in time to see the last farmer heading out the door. You turn in a circle to confirm there is no one else in the room with you and Joel, and your eyes come back to the door just as it clicks shut. The silence that follows is deafening. You’re completely alone with Joel. Completely.

What strikes you is not the all-encompassing fear that grips you; what strikes you is how this is not the usual fear you have come to know from being alone with a man. For once, you’re not scared of what Joel might do – by now you trust him not to hurt you. You have been mostly alone with him so many times in the last two months and he has always been gentle and respectful, never crossing your still-unspoken boundaries.

After he told you about his daughter, something inside of you shifted. For the first time in your whole life you thought that perhaps you belonged somewhere. Being here with him feels right, it feels like your destiny. You’re not scared of him doing something, you’re scared of him doing nothing. What if he doesn’t want you as badly as you want him? What if he got tired of waiting for you? What if he rejects you?

Joel sees you staring at the door with that look in your eye, the look like you want to run right through it, leaving behind a cartoonish hole in the door in your wake.

“PJ”, he says, and your eyes find his, “Let’s put away these chairs and we can go.”

–

He doesn’t try to hold your hand on the way home, worried that you’re too skittish for him to touch, sure that you’d bolt if he tried. You’ve never done that, you’ve never run from him and yet it’s always in the back of his mind. He’s so worried about losing you. He thinks about it all the time. It terrifies him.

The hour is late when you return to the house and you find it dark, everyone already in bed. You both head upstairs but instead of heading into his room as he usually does, he turns with you and stands outside your door. You tilt your head back to look up at him. Your hair has been growing out, looking more like a pixie cut now. He can just see the wet of your eyes twinkle in the darkness.

“Do you wanna come in?” you ask, your voice faint even in the silent house.

A deep rumble emanates from Joel’s chest. He can’t enter your room. It’s been one of Tess’ rules since the beginning and it’s very important to her. The position he holds in The Valley, the way that everyone looks up to him, she said they’ve put him on a pedestal. And once on a pedestal you have to be very careful because everyone can see you.

Everyone knows he lives with all of these women, and everyone knows that he sleeps with most of them. Everyone but you. He’s kept this knowledge from you on purpose. They are consenting adults, they each have their own space and their own autonomy. If they want to initiate sex with him, they come to his room. He doesn’t go to them, keeping it entirely on their terms.

But how does he reject your offer to come into your room without telling you the rest? Without revealing all of his half-truths and omissions. It’s taken so long for you to trust him, he can’t destroy that trust. But won’t saying no hurt you too? He wants to say yes but he can’t. How the fuck does he say no to you? Shit. He’s already waited too long to answer, his silence has gone on for too long.

“We could… close the door,” you offer. His eyes clench shut.

Jesus Christ you’re going to kill him. His dick is aching in his jeans right now. He’s been waiting for you to make an offer like this for so long. Waking up every morning hard, having to jerk off like a teenager before he can even start his day. None of the women have even tried to come to his room for sex since he brought you down off that mountain. He didn’t ask but he’s sure they see him preoccupied with you. Hell, he’s damn near drowning in you.

He’s never been like this with a woman he’s brought into the house. Never kissing them in the kitchen or touching their knees under the dinner table. He’s never made out with one of them in his office between meetings or woken up early just to smell their hair in the hallway. He’s gone off the fucking rails and it’s all because of you. But he can’t break the rule, he can’t accept your invitation into your room. He also can’t tell you about the rule.

Your heart is going to beat out of your chest, you’re sure of it. Joel reaches one hand forward to grab yours, finally touching you. His calloused fingertips trace the inside of your wrist, gently moving across the delicate skin. You can barely see in the dark but you know he’s moved closer because you can smell him, feel the heat of his body radiating off him. His clothes smell like sunshine, line-dried in the crisp autumn air. You smell the day wafting off his skin, a hint of sweat and leather hits your nostrils.

Your knees begin to knock together and you’re so afraid that they’re going to give out under you when he rejects you. You reach your free hand up to brace yourself, placing it on his chest, feeling his own heart thumping wildly underneath. You barely hear him say not tonight PJ over the pulsing beat in your ears, but before you can react to his refusal you feel his arms snake around your waist and he’s pressing his lips onto yours, hard.

He pushes you up against the open door frame of your room, his feet planted securely in the hallway. You immediately grant his tongue access to your mouth and he begins to explore it, for the first time. You’ve never felt his hot wet tongue against yours, and you think it just might be the thing that kills you. You moan into his mouth as you throw your arms around his neck.

He continues to kiss you with moving lips and licking tongue, your hands moving to twist in his curls – curls that are a bit longer than when you first met him. His arms roam freely up and down your back, pulling you close to him and pressing your hard nipples against the broad planes of his chest. You’re lost in the heat of him, the taste of him, the feel of his body pressing to yours. You’ve waited so long for this. You don’t know how long it’s going to last but you never want it to end.

Driven by lust, madness, or both, you cup your hand over the zipper on his jeans, palming his erection. It feels so big in your hold. He exhales a moan into your mouth and clutches his hand overtop of yours, pressing you into him more firmly, curving your fingers around the heft of it. Fuck, it’s so hard. You feel wetness dripping out of you into your underwear. Holy fuck you’re getting dizzy.

Unable to even think straight, you don’t notice he’s let go of your hand until you feel it cupping the front of your jeans, and the noise that leaves your mouth is sinful. He slams his mouth overtop of yours to muffle your wail but it still echoes down the silent hall. You know he must feel the heat radiating off your core, he must already feel how embarrassingly wet you are. He brings both hands to the front of your jeans and undoes the button, pausing to look you in the eyes and wait for you to nod him on further. You do.

As he takes down the zipper you close your eyes and think this is finally it, you’re finally going to feel him where you need him the most. But instead of feeling his fingers skirt along the waistband of your underwear, you feel them touching your lips. You open your eyes and his face is inches from yours. He nods his head and tells you to open, and lets his index and middle finger pass over your lips and touch your tongue.

He doesn’t have to tell you to close your mouth, you do it on your own, closing your eyes again and letting your pooling saliva coat his digits. You lick your tongue between them, along his knuckles and the pads of his fingers, then you gently suck, running your tongue flat along the underside as if it were another part of him in your mouth instead. You wish there was more light in the hallway because when you open your eyes to look at his face you’re pretty sure he looks the way you feel.

He takes his fingers out of your mouth slowly, a trail of saliva connecting them to your tongue briefly, before he dips them into your underwear and slides them right over your clit. He wouldn’t have known of course, but he didn’t need you to wet his fingers, you were already soaking wet from just his touch. The state he finds you in sends jolts of electricity surging down his cock.

He gently rubs his finger alongside your bundle of nerves, dragging them down to collect even more of your ample wetness. You scramble your hands up the front of his shirt, longing for skin-to-skin contact with him. You shuffle your fingers through his sparse chest hair and drag your nails over his hardening nipples, causing him to crash his lips against yours to silence his own groan this time.

He pushes his middle finger towards your hole and feels you nodding as he does it. His finger slides inside you so easily; you’re so fucking wet. He’s never felt anyone this wet before. You reach around behind him and shove your hands down the back of his pants, grabbing handfuls of his ass, squealing against his mouth when you discover that he’s not wearing underwear.

He continues to work his middle finger in and out of your tight hole, spreading his index finger to run it up alongside your exposed clit. He knows you like it because you’re whimpering and clawing at him non-stop. It’s so loud in the otherwise dead-silent house but he can’t bring himself to give a single shit who else can hear you. Every sound you make goes straight to his leaking dick.

He pulls his mouth off yours and brings his face to your hair, inhaling deeply. Today was your bath day and your hair smells like soap and lavender. He likes it but he prefers when it smells slept-in, smells like you. He lowers his mouth and sucks a dark mark into your skin just below where your neck meets your shoulder, then he brings his lips to your ear, biting and kissing your earlobe.

He whispers in your ear; you’re so fucking wet baby, you’re so tight, can feel how wet you are, can you feel it baby?, I’m gonna smell like you after this ya know, you’re all over me, can you hear it?, you’re gonna feel me for days baby, for days.

You yank on his arms, pulling him as close to you as possible and orgasm with a squeal, shuddering in his hold and panting his name over and over into the hollow of his neck. He takes his hands out of your pants, glistening with your release, and greedily shoves his fingers into his mouth above your head. Once clean he brings his face to the side of your neck, nuzzling you and nipping at your skin there and breathing in your heady scent.

Before either of you get a chance to give any due attention to his painful, raging erection, Tess’ door opens and she comes out of the room to head towards the bathroom. You yip in embarrassment and cross into your room, closing the door in Joel’s face. Joel shoots Tess a pissed off look and Tess shrugs her shoulders.

“Sorry, it sounded like you guys were done,” she says flippantly as she closes the bathroom door.

Joel knocks lightly at your door a few times and you open it a bit, mortified at being caught acting like a couple of horny teenagers.

“Don’t be shy, baby,” he coos. “We didn’t do anythin’ wrong.”

That’s true. He made sure to stay outside of your room so Tess has nothing to be upset about. He leans his face into the crack of your door and you give him several kisses on the lips but then you hear Tess coming back out of the bathroom and you shut the door in his face again, muttering a flustered goodnight from the other side of the wood.

He turns to Tess again, visibly angry and she suppresses a smile. She resists teasing him verbally and instead kisses him on the cheek and wishes him a goodnight also, closing her door behind her. Joel takes himself into his room and fucks his fist – again – to thoughts of you.

–

The week passes quickly, alone time together still nonexistent as Joel’s responsibilities increase. He always seems to be out of the house on patrols, having meetings, and visiting community members. He argues with Tess about his schedule being too full and she tells him winter is hard, and that people need extra reassurances to make it through. She also reminds him, in a whisper, that he has spent a lot of time focusing on one person and ignoring the rest, and he needs to make up for that. His only response is a growl before he leaves the room.

Joel finds you outside the bathroom door one morning and you blush, realizing you’re wearing one of his button-up shirts, ready to defend yourself for pilfering it off the laundry line. Instead of admonishing you, he wordlessly pulls the open collar over your one shoulder a bit, observing the fading mark he’d sucked into your skin. He kisses over it gently and you think he’s having regrets about marking you like that, but you say nothing, a little embarrassed by the fact that you stare at it every morning in the bathroom mirror.

When Thursday comes around again you find yourself alone once more after the meeting, entering a house that is dark and quiet. Instead of going upstairs you both go into the kitchen for a glass of water, slowly taking sips from your glass before you lose all control and launch yourself at him. This might be your first time instigating this kind of behavior but your need for him fuels your boldness.

You grab at him everywhere you can reach, pulling him tight to you, feeling the hardness of his shoulders under your hands and the softness of his belly against yours. You pull on fistfulls of his hair and shove your tongue into his mouth, eliciting groans from him. You don’t even care how desperate you appear as you writhe against him, whimpering. You are desperate for him.

You need him to hold you tight, to kiss you hard, to make you feel like a woman. You need to belong to him, to matter to him, to make him happy. You need him to give you purpose, to bring you joy, to make you whole. You need him to make you forget every man that came before him, every hand that touched you with bad intentions. You need to feel his body enveloping you. You need him to consume you.

He pulls you into the dining room and lifts your legs up to place your butt on the table’s edge but instead you wrap both legs around his waist. He growls at your aggressive move and pushes your back down firmly on the dining table, keeping himself against you. He begins to grind himself against your core, unable and unwilling to hold himself back.

Feeling like feral animals, you lick and moan into each other’s mouths as the table creaks beneath you. You shove your hands up the back of his shirt, clawing marks down him. He moves his face along your neck, taking deep inhaling breaths and nipping at your skin, debating on whether to give you a fresh mark. Fisting your hands in his hair, you tug on his locks and interrupt his thoughts, earning groans that he muffles into the crook of your shoulder.

Suddenly the lights in the kitchen flip on, and Tess is standing in the doorway.

“Please,” she says calmly, “Not on the table where we eat.”

You clap your hand over your mouth, silencing your loud yelp. Joel pushes himself off the table, also startled by her appearance. You take the opportunity to scramble away and run up the stairs. Hearing your door slam closed, Joel turns to Tess, snarling.

“What the fuck, Tess? What the fuck,” grabbing the edge of the table in a splintering grip.

“Why don’t you two just fuck already?” she chuckles, trying to rile him up.

“That’s what I’m fuckin’ trying to do,” he growls, slamming his fists down several times.

“Don’t break my fucking table,” she snaps at him.

Joel grabs her by the hips and pushes her face down bent over the table, slamming his body into her ass. Tess just lays there, letting him rut into her for a moment. He grabs her by the hair, yanking her up, and takes a big inhale into the back of her head, continuing to grind his pelvis into her. He takes a few more breaths and stops moving his hips, calming down. Eventually he releases her, pushing her away from him harshly.

“Yeah, I don’t smell like her, do I?” Tess says.

He mutters something she can’t quite make out, still pissed off. She can see his softening erection but a wild fucking look remains in his eyes. She watches him point to the table several times before he opens his mouth.

“That’s my fuckin’ table. I’ll do whatever I fuckin’ want to it,” and with that he goes up to bed.

He jerks off in his room alone. Again.

–

Once again the interim week is relatively tame, as you don’t have much chance to be alone together. You manage to sneak in kisses and touches when you can, but your stolen moments are no longer innocent. There’s no more playful giggles or gentle caresses. You exchange lustful glances over the table, your kisses are laden with tongue and your touches are now groping and needy.

You wake up every morning having dreamt of him all night, and spend every day wet and wanting, full-body shudders running through you at the memory of his hands and lips on you. Everytime you pass him in the hallway you ache for him, fleeting touches never fulfilling the longing you feel. You can’t get to sleep at night without touching yourself, covering your face with your pillow to muffle your pleasure.

You don’t remember being this wound up over anyone in your whole life, especially not since the world ended and every day became a fight to survive. Touching yourself never brought you such relief before, but imagining it’s Joel touching you ignites a spark deep inside and your desire is driving you mad. Joel makes you forget how miserable things are, how scared you’ve been. He makes you feel safe.

The next Thursday you come back from the meeting much later than expected, Tess is waiting up – drinking tea in the dining room, a bit concerned. She sees you both enter, him practically carrying you inside and up the stairs. When he comes back down she goes to make some commentary about you two “finally” doing the deed when she sees a fresh wet stain high inside the thigh of his pants. Did he come in his pants?

“What the fuck?” she can’t help it from slipping out.

He doesn’t meet her eyes, just shrugs his shoulders and shuffles into the kitchen for a drink. He doesn’t seem agitated like he was when she interrupted him before so she thinks he must at least be satisfied with whatever happened tonight. He passes back through the room and mutters a goodnight, heading upstairs without elaborating on the state he’s in or what kept you two so late.

She’s known Joel for many years and has felt a lot of things for him, but at no point did she let herself believe that he felt anything close to love for her. She had actually convinced herself that he was incapable of feeling love, and is pretty sure he’s convinced himself of the same thing. But what is this if not true intimacy?

She wasn’t sure about you at first, especially given your penchant for fucking up your chores. But you are friendly to your housemates and giving in the community. You’re kind but reserved, and although it takes you a while to warm up to people, Tess firmly believes that you’re a genuinely good person, and – most importantly–- could be truly good for Joel. She sees that Joel lets his guard down around you, and that you like Joel for who he really is, which is something he doesn’t show to anyone.

She knows he’s kept things from you, and wonders how much he’s been manipulating you in-between letting his true self show. Maybe that’s not the right word for what Joel does, manipulate. It doesn’t feel like that’s what he’s doing when you’re the target of it. It feels good, amazing even, because when Joel makes you feel like you matter to him, it’s intoxicating. It’s the best fucking feeling in the world.

She wonders if things are going to change, and how they might change. She thinks that if Joel can admit his true feelings and commit, then his relationship with you could change the very trajectory of this community. She and Joel worked very hard to build this community up but she knows that it’s stable enough now that a change like this won’t topple it. She quietly hopes it will change significantly.

She doesn’t love how subserviently women are treated in this community and has always wondered if it would transform if Joel took a partner. For a while she hoped that partner would be her, but that thought died out long ago. If Joel is seen in public showing love and affection for an equal female partner, it could benefit women and the community as a whole going forward.

She lets herself envision that future, where Joel embraces his feelings and makes changes in his home and the community, and the positive effects are felt all across The Valley. But the biggest hurdle will be getting Joel to admit to himself – and everyone else – the softness and vulnerability that you bring out in him. Letting himself love someone means opening himself up to loss, and if there’s one thing that Joel Miller does not do, it’s lose.

🖤

Thank you endlessly to @papipascalispunk for helping me with this series and listening to me rant about Cult Leader Joel. 🫂 I appreciate you SO much.

TAGLIST (lmk if you wanna be added or removed) @strang3lov3 @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @covetyou @iamasaddie @sr-lrn @clawdee @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @merz-8 @speckledemerald @alltheseperfectimperfections @survivingandenduring @afraidtofear @millennial-teenybopper @missladym1981 @xdaddysprincessxx @lumoverheaven @ghoulettesinspace @brittmb115 @wintersquirrel @obscurexsorrows @littlevenicebitch69 @lulawantmula @pedroswife69 @joeldjarin

#devotion series #cult leader joel miller #noxturnalpascal #ofc!reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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meownotgood · 2 months

Text

let us live, if we must die. / chapter two: of blood and fire

You are a witch, and since the purging of all magic, you've been forced to live a life of solitude and secrecy. Your destiny was always beyond your control — until, by a pure twist of fate, you unknowingly fell for the kingdom's only prince.

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pairing: prince!aki x witch!reader

word count: 6.6k

tags: fantasy au, royalty au, reader is fem, tending to aki's wounds, but things don't all go to plan. warning: a few small mentions of blood / wounds / a knife

notes: we're in aki's perspective this time! reader & aki's relationship is off to an interesting start... hope you enjoy this one hehe. next chapter will be a bit longer and include multiple scenes!

masterlist read on ao3 join the taglist here!

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Aki awakes to the sound of a crackling fireplace.

He blinks, his eyes still tired. His blurry vision slowly begins to come back into focus. When it does, he is met with an unfamiliar ceiling in a room he doesn't recognize. Candlelit shadows dance above him. The cottage, right. Relief washes over his mind, his body, and his weary muscles, the sensation as strong and comforting as the warmth from the nearby fire. The forest was cold. Rain soaked into his bare skin, until every droplet felt like ice in his bones, bitterness in his boiling blood. But now, he is warm. Safe, at last.

He remembers first spotting the cottage in between dense trees and pouring rain. Every step grew harder and harder to take, his legs becoming heavier by the second. By the time he reached the doorstep, he knew he was at the end of his rope. Now, his fate was no longer in his own hands. He recalls knocking on the door, seeing it open, falling, fading —

Yeah, he needs to apologize for that. He has a lot he probably needs to say to you, actually.

Aki listens to the fire flicker and fizzle, while he continues to idly watch the ceiling's pirouetting shadows through heavy eyelids. He's alive. His heart pounds forcefully against the caged walls of his chest, as if reminding him, taunting him. Attempting to recall the moments before he lost consciousness, his thoughts can't help but wander back to you.

You were moonlit, the serene glow of the stars shining in your eyes and your panicked expression. Aki felt his throat go dry. His hands shook. His breath took on a tender hitch, despite the pain still splintering through him. He plays that moment over and over again in his mind, and Gods, he knows he's already messed everything up. He probably scared you. No, he definitely startled you. Arriving at a stranger's door all blood-soaked and weary, before proceeding to pass out on them doesn't make for the most positive of introductions.

Of course, all things considered, getting off on the wrong foot with you was perhaps inevitable. He can only wonder how long it might take now, to try and get the two of you on the right foot.

With a steady breath in, and a moment to prepare, Aki pushes himself up. Instantly, he winces, grunting in pain. The still-fresh wound on his side sends pain tearing through him like sharp, icy daggers. A heavy ache settles over his spine, then his limbs.

He glances around; you have him resting next to a stone fireplace, on what seems to be a makeshift wooden cot. His shirt is laid out, drying by the fire. You've washed the blood from it, for the most part. When he examines himself, he sees his torso wrapped in cloth, torn and tied together to make bandages, fabric closest to his side stained a dull, dried red.

"Don't move."

The sound of your voice gets him to glance in your direction. With your back turned towards him, you're standing at the kitchen counter. You are preparing something, your knife chopping smoothly, echoing a firm noise each time it hits the cutting board. Aki huffs the start of a rebuttal, but you don't let him get very far.

"I'm fine, I-"

"You risk tearing your stitches if you move," You scold, tone stern, your movements halting. Aki feels the anticipation heighten in his veins, the room briefly going silent, save for a persistent echo of rain hitting the roof.

You glance over your shoulder to look at him, and proceed to shoot him a particularly harsh glare. "So please, lay back down."

The intricate features of your face are just as captivating as Aki remembers.

Slowly, without taking his eyes off you, he leans back, the cot creaking once he's settled. You breathe an annoyed-sounding sigh before returning to your work. A drizzle hums outside steadily, softer than the earlier downpour. The storm is passing, thankfully.

Your stone pestle knocks and grinds against a wooden bowl. The fireplace crackles, calm flames flooding Aki's body with a comforting sense of heat. It casts him in gentle light, lambent sparks reflecting off his eyes, and in the smooth metal of his earrings.

Once you've finished grinding the herbs, you unscrew the cap of a nearby flask, and you pour a generous amount of water into the bowl. Each scrap of vegetation dissolves almost immediately, leaving behind a thin mixture, colored in shades of green and muddy purple. You have the bowl held in both hands when you finally walk over to him, careful not to let anything spill.

You kneel down beside the cot, eyeing him nervously. Your lips press together to form a taut line. Awkward seconds pass in droves, before you manage to say something at last.

"Tilt your head up," You're instructing. You have the cadence of someone who isn't used to their own voice leaving their lungs, Aki notes. When he does so, propping himself up a bit, your free hand hesitantly shifts to rest underneath his head for support. He swears he can feel your uneasiness.

"Drink this."

You've let his hair down, and the long, messy strands brush your palm; they lightly tickle the back of his neck, and fall to frame his pointed ears. Orange light caresses him, flickering over old scars and freckled skin. Aki breathes deeply, his gaze locked with yours. You're so close. Close enough to make him feel as though the stars themselves are burning in his heart.

There's fear in your eyes. The sort of fear he's come to recognize on others, countless times before. The same fear that would've taken over him when he was much younger. But there's gentleness, as well. A genuine concern, as you watch the choppy rise and fall of his chest from the corner of your eye.

He owes you everything, and more than that, still. If it wasn't for you, he surely would have died out there. When he was running, rain pelting his back while he sprinted as fast as his weak legs could take him — fruitless, for the devils were already following his blood trail — he thought he was definitely going to.

What a terribly awful, terribly stupid death that would be. Aki always imagined his end would come at the clawed hands of a devil. It was the fate he accepted, when he swore to hunt them. With no mercy, they will end him someday, just as they've taken his family, and each of his peers. Yet, to die there, from such a foolish mistake, to perish because he merely fumbled with his weapon when he should have been focused — In whatever afterlife he stumbled into, kind or cruel, he would never have forgiven himself.

His mind has been wandering elsewhere quite often, as of late. From now on, he needs his focus maintained if he wants to survive. Between his troubles, his training, and his responsibilities, it's like his brain hasn't rested in weeks. And then there's this damned forest, the devils, and you. Something tells him he won't be finding his composure any time soon.

Aki's nose wrinkles up on instinct when you bring the bowl to his lips. You tut, shaking your head.

"It smells bad, I know," You're scoffing, "But it isn't going to taste any better. Drink it all, it'll help."

With his eyes screwed shut, you begin to tilt the bowl back, and he forces himself to down the entirety of the mixture. It sticks to his throat, thick and unbelievably bitter; it makes him cough once he tries to breathe. He swallows dryly, allowing the taste to gradually dull. Satisfied, you rise to your feet. Empty bowl in hand, you're finally heading back towards the kitchen.

"Demons got you good," You hum, sweeping stray scraps of herbs from the counter into your palm. Glass jars line the back edge of the counter, and you pop the lid on one, carefully brushing the corresponding traces inside. "You'll heal though, in time. Shouldn't be left with another scar, unless you keep messing with your stitches."

Aki leans back into the cot, his messy hair fanned out around him. He runs his fingers over his torso, feeling the outline of the ragged bandages. They're wrapped tightly to protect the wound on his side. The gash underneath stings slightly when he touches it, still.

"Thank you," He murmurs, turning his head to glance at you. His voice is low, breathy. Honest. "If you hadn't brought me in, I think I would have bled to death."

"You definitely would have," You grumble under your breath, a bit louder than intended. You exhale a small tsk, your nails rhythmically tapping against the side of the glass jar. "You're heavy, very heavy. I had to practically drag you inside. And you talk in your sleep, too."

Aki snorts, breathing something of a dry laugh. He props his head up, resting it on top of his arm. "What was I talking about?"

Briefly, you hesitate. "How am I supposed to know? It was gibberish." You set the jar back into place, and carefully straighten the entire assortment. "At least I knew you were sleeping and not- you know. Dead."

At last, you're starting to sound sure of yourself. He hardly minds your harshness; he's the one who nearly barged in, he certainly deserves to be met with a hint of vitriol. Aki finds your sudden ray of confidence to be pleasant, in fact, like standing in the shimmer of a rising sun. Perhaps he can make amends with you after all.

"I was lucky," Aki starts. "I wasn't expecting to find anyone all the way out here. You saved my life. I don't plan on forgetting that."

Busying yourself with cleaning your kitchen knife, you pour water onto a towel before using it to hastily polish the blade.

"Where are you from?" You ask him, changing the subject entirely. "The city?"

He shrugs. "I suppose you could call it that."

"The city's awfully far from here."

"It is," Aki responds calmly. He distracts himself by watching you, his gaze flickering over your form: bathed in shadow, and touched by the slightest lamp glow. Your back is facing him again, and your shoulders are tense, wound up. Your hooded cloak has holes here and there, with the bottom edge of your cape distinctly ragged from tear marks. The deep blue color of the cape's fabric matches the makeshift bandages around his torso.

"But you're from there," He continues, eyes narrowed, "Aren't you?"

You pause. Just barely, he hears you take a shuddery, uncertain breath. "I've never been."

Aki concentrates on the idle drum of raindrops — tapping against the roof, the windows, and the ground outside. Nourishing each blossoming tree, and every overgrown blade of grass. The sound is low, yet calming.

"That's a shame," He says. "The weather in the kingdom has been so much nicer."

Suddenly, in one smooth, quick movement, you're turning around. You're dropping the towel and the knife down on the counter with a faint clatter, and you're twisting to face him head on. Your cold glance is immediately interrogating him, flickering up, and then back down.

"Has? So you've been there recently?" You snap, the bridge of your nose forming a disgruntled knot. Your arms cross tightly over your chest. "Thought you were an adventurer. The kind that doesn't like to stay in one place, the kind that goes out searching for treasure and jewels and monsters- that sort of thing. Why don't you explain what you were doing in the kingdom, then?"

Aki frowns. "I was born there, if you must know."

"Yeah, I must," You counter sharply, a brow raised. "And that still doesn't answer my question."

Aki's teeth grit slightly when he sits up, a hint of stinging pain promptly sparking in his side. Firelight frames his face in amber hues and pockets of shadow — his expression is unreadable, but soft. Desperate, almost. If you were planning on telling him he should lay back down, the annoyed twitch in your brows is the most you let on.

"I'm an adventurer, just not the kind you're thinking of. I'm… I'm a devil hunter. That's what the people in the kingdom call it," He explains; the ache spreading through his body leaves him a tad out of breath, and his next words are spoken between a subtle wince. "I'll venture far from the kingdom to kill them, but I also take care of anything lurking too close to the city's outskirts. I came here to practice. The devils in this forest were reported to be weaker. At least, compared to the hunts I usually go after."

"Really?" You roll your eyes, huffing in exasperation while your arms go loose at your sides. "And I'm supposed to believe you came here to fight demons, without a weapon on you?"

"Devils, you mean."

"Whatever you call them."

Aki presses a palm against his side, and matches your stern gaze with a composed one. "I had a sword. The devils disarmed me, and when they did, they all but destroyed it. I left my things behind when I ran, to make it easier to escape. Hence why I showed up empty-handed."

You're quiet as you think, eyes glancing between him and his torso. "You're awfully terrible at coming up with excuses. Either you're a trained demon hunter, or you're an idiot who nearly lost his life to a bunch of demon-sprat. So, which is it?"

"Devils are ruthless," He explains hastily, "They can easily overwhelm their target if they attack in numbers, and I know you're aware of that, you must be. The storm- I think it was causing them to flock together. I'm telling the truth, there's no need for this. You don't have to keep trying to intimidate me."

"Shut up," You mutter through a scowl. Your hands have clenched into tight fists. Your brows are furrowed, and your jaw is locked tight. "You already deceived me once. I'm not going to sit idly while you do it again."

"I'm not lying. If you would just listen, please just calm down and-"

Quickly, without tearing your fierce gaze from his, you're reaching behind you to snatch the kitchen knife. You point the sparkling, sharpened end right at him. Thunder booms, and the sky alights with sparks that fleetingly bathe the room in a blinding flash. Aki goes quiet, his heart in his throat. In the darkening afterimage, he finally sees the whole of you — A raging flame, a thorned heart. The fire in your eyes is near engulfing. Your fear runs far deeper than he ever could've known.

He watches, as your arm trembles just barely, unease concealed behind a struggling steadfastness. You gnaw anxiously on your bottom lip. Your knuckles protrude from your hand, your grip on the leather hilt rigid and unacquainted.

Aki lets go of a long, deep breath. "Put that down."

"Give me one good reason, then." Your gaze is sharp, honed enough to cut through him all on its own. "Give me one reason why I should believe any word that comes from your filthy mouth."

Allowing his palm to slip from his torso, he carefully puts both hands up. It seems to do little to put you at ease.

"The knife," Aki murmurs, his gaze darting to you, then to your unsteady hand. "You don't know how to use it."

"Would you like to put that statement to the test?"

Aki tenses. "Devil hunter sounds far more intimidating than adventurer. I was trying not to scare you, that's all there is to it."

"Liar," You chide, "Serpent."

"I'll show you, if you'll let me." He speaks in a level tone, attempting to stay collected. His voice comes out quieter, his words are slow and deliberate, and he remains as still as he can possibly manage. Regardless, his chest gently rises and falls, falling in line with the relentless pound of his heart inside. Low light dances across his bare skin and faded scars.

"Once the storm clears," Aki continues, "I'll head back out, and I'll retrace my steps to find everything I dropped in the woods. You can come with me. Hold a knife to my throat the whole time, if you must. I'll lead you right to where the devils attacked me. My sword will be there, and my bag. Devils like to snatch whatever shiny gold pieces they can get their hands on, but if there's any gold left in my bag when we find it, it's yours. How does that sound?"

A conflicted expression dawns on your face — your brows knotted, eyes dark, lips pressed together. You stay focused on him, not yet answering. You're refusing to look away, with stress present in your form, stiff like a statue. Aki's chest aches, from something other than the wound's persistent pain.

"I'm sorry," He apologizes, mumbling earnestly, his voice soft. "I shouldn't have- I'm not dangerous. I won't hurt you. I promise. I'm just-"

"Don't." Your next breath trembles, it is shaky, weak. The knife's silver point, aimed towards his chest, glitters with his own reflection: warm and fire-lit. "Don't make promises you can't keep."

Through your frail gaze, locked with his, Aki can taste the bitterness on your tongue. You remind him of the wolf, and the deer. The spark to ignite the flame, and the pyre, woefully made to be burned upon. You are shrinking up, your hand shaking ever-so slightly — and he can't help but feel as though he has just taken one step forward, and a thousand steps back.

He should feel frightened. Anyone else in his shoes would be. Truthfully, he doesn't think you'd hurt him; it's this keen intuition he's held onto, ever since he first wound up at your doorstep. And although he knew it was foolish of him to push his luck, to underestimate you, when you helped him, when you saved him, he realized he was always right.

Just like when he found himself deep in those devil-filled woods, he's come face to face with something — someone — who he's sure could destroy him. Everything he's ever known is telling him you could do so quickly, fiercely, in a tempest of crimson blood and vivid ash. He'd be lucky if he managed to take one final breath, before the heavens came down to greet him. Or, perhaps, you'll opt to destroy him slowly. Softly, waves of built-up hopes and intentions building until they're complete, deep enough to drown him in a sea he could never escape from, because he's never quite learned how to swim.

Fortunately, Aki isn't frightened by fate. Nor has he ever been scared by the things he really ought to be scared of.

Silence stretches on, and so too does the hum of the rain. All at once, you break it; Aki glances at you with a little less apprehension as you turn away, clumsily tossing the knife back onto the counter. You sigh listlessly, and you rest your elbows on the surface, leaning against it.

"This is pointless," You scoff, seeming defeated. "We're never going to get anywhere."

Aki slowly drops his hands into his lap. He swallows, Adam's apple bobbing. He almost speaks a handful of times, before finally settling on something to say.

"I've- I've made a mess of things, haven't I?" Glancing down, he doesn't meet your eyes. "For what it's worth, I am grateful for everything you've done for me. I know this is my fault. I won't take advantage of your kindness or your hospitality. It wouldn't be right. Come morning, I'll leave as soon as I can."

"No, you can't," You're suddenly arguing, turning around to face him. As he expected, your words sound sharp as ever, but your gaze on his is different, somehow. "You need to rest, for at least a few more days. Otherwise, your wound might leave lasting damage. You'll have to give up your whole demon hunting thing for good."

"I'll be fine." Aki stretches, bringing his arms over his head, then rolling his shoulders back. He rests his palm back on his side, and he uses his free hand to push his bangs from his eyes. "I've been through worse. Besides, I think whatever you gave me is working already."

You roll your eyes. "It's just numbing you, you fool. Please, didn't I already tell you to lay back down?"

Aki tries not to let too much guilt show on his face. With a hand on your hip, you glare at him expectantly, until he's slowly settling back into the cot. Once he's fully lying down, you take it as your cue to snatch the flask and towel from the counter behind you; the knife is distinctly pushed away, out of your reach, and out of the realm of worry. You make your way over, kneeling down next to him. After quickly unscrewing the cap, you reach out to offer him the flask.

"Here," You hum. You gently shake it, making the liquid inside slosh back and forth. "It's just water. Prop yourself up a bit, so you don't choke."

Hesitant at first, Aki props up slightly on his elbow. He takes the flask from you, careful not to let your fingers brush. He only has a few small swigs, but it's plenty refreshing. It immediately relieves the dryness in his throat, and chases away the last few bitter hints of medicine.

Once he hands the flask back to you, you're pausing, taking a moment to get a clear look at him. You focus on his face, his ruffled hair. His pointed ears, decorated with sparkling earrings. He can't help but feel his chest tighten, your gaze locking onto his. You hold his stare for merely a second or two, but your eyes; they transfix him, like they're a sanctum he should be praying to.

Then, you're looking down, and Aki watches while you silently inspect his torso. Idly, he wonders what you might've seen to make your brows furrow, and to cause your lips to form the slightest pout.

"You were angry enough to hold a knife to me mere moments ago," Aki murmurs, before breathing a short, light-hearted sigh. Your gaze meets his own once more, your brow raised in curiosity. "And now, you're asking me to stay."

"Yeah, I am. Would you prefer I toss you out?" You proceed to pour a generous amount of water onto the towel. You set the flask aside, and then, you reach up, bringing the towel to his nape. "Hold still."

Aki tilts his head to the side, the water cool and damp when it touches his skin. "Not really," He answers; you dab the towel onto a small, fresh scrape just above his collarbone, and you wipe off the traces of dirt and dried blood. "Unless you think that'd be best."

You lean over him a little, giving a quick once-over to his adjacent side and shoulder. "Your legs, let me see them."

Aki shoves the thin blanket you'd covered him with aside. The moment it's gone, you're rolling up the legs of his trousers. You clumsily push them up to his knees, until he can feel the warmth of the fire, lapping at his bare skin.

Both legs have a few sets of scrapes, but his knees are the worst offense. They're bruised and raw from falling, firstly after those stray devils had managed to topple him. He recalls rushing through the forest, hearing their howls from behind him as they gathered in numbers. Vision growing dizzy, he tripped over overgrown roots and rocks obscured by the darkness, just to force himself to his feet over and over again. The sight clearly displeases you, getting you to breathe an annoyed tch, and you press your damp towel to the knee closest to you. It stings, slightly.

"I wasn't going to hurt you, just so you know," You huff, focusing on your work. "My mind was made up from the moment I brought you in. There would be no sense in going back on that now."

"I know. But I wouldn't have blamed you," Aki remarks. "You have good reasons not to trust me."

Those words get you to freeze, briefly. Aki eyes you, calm and straight-faced. Diligently, you apply water to a new corner of the towel, and you reach over to clean the scrapes on his other leg.

"You're to stay right here for the next few days, and not move. Got it?" You instruct; you lean back, and he nods, pulling the legs of his pants back into place. In spite of your assuredness, you seem to falter, staring down at your hands and pondering to yourself. As if, while you think, you've momentarily forgotten he's even here. Each breath, once, and then another, you take on edge. He almost asks if you're alright — before abruptly, you return to busying yourself.

Your towel is discarded onto the floor, as you murmur, "Sit up. Slowly, please."

Aki pushes up all the way, straightening his back. You shift until you're able to reach his side. Your touch is gentle, and your fingertips begin to softly evaluate the bandages around his waist.

When he fails to hold back a wince, you ask calmly, "Does the wound still hurt?"

"A little," Aki manages. He keeps most of his weight rested on his arms, his palms pressed flat to either side of the cot. "The pain is dull, though. It isn't as strong as it was before."

Your touch is feather-light and foreign. He isn't used to being fretted over like this; his shoulders and the back of his neck feel hot, and he can feel the delicate brush of your fingers faintly, even through the fabric. The weak ghost of your touch on his sensitive skin is enough to make his spine tingle.

"You've got those herbs to thank for that," You remark, pulling away. "Once you're rested and healed, and only then, you'll be free to leave. I'm not sending you back out there just to be demon food. Not after I've used a month's worth of medicine on you."

There's a small beat of silence, as you search for the cap you'd set aside, carefully screwing it back on the flask. You rise to your feet. You neatly spread the damp towel out by the side of the fireplace, next to Aki's drying shirt, like it's a task you've performed a thousand times before. He grinds his teeth together — an action you don't notice — but inevitably, he isn't able to stop himself from speaking.

"If it's alright," He starts, waiting until you've turned back towards him to continue. "Could I ask you something?"

Your arms cross. "Possibly."

"Why did you help me?" Aki swallows, and he feels his jaw start to grow tense. His gaze wavers, shifting between you and his lap. "You could've turned me away, thrown me out, swore at me- You could've done anything, besides what you did. I hardly understand it."

Expression softening, you laugh — You actually laugh, lips upturned, the corners of your eyes crinkled, and Aki fights against his own heart as it threatens to burst from his chest.

"I wasn't aware I needed a reason," You retort, shrugging.

"You don't need one. I was just wondering if there was one."

"If you must know," You mumble; mocking him, he thinks, as you put on some horrible, deep impression that he can only assume is meant to be his own voice. You clear your throat after that, glancing away, quieting. You hold your own arm, and you rub it in a nervous sort of motion. "I wanted to, I suppose. End of story."

"You- You wanted to?"

"Of course," You're answering dryly, "What, are you saying you don't believe me? I can't save some stupid lying adventurer out of the goodness of my own heart?"

"No, I believe you." He answers you calmly, smoothly. "That's a fine reason."

"Is it?" You hesitate, gaze tearing away from his own to focus on the ground. Aki watches you take in a subtle, steady breath. "Sorry, I didn't expect- I'm not sure how I should explain it. I think I…" Suddenly, you sigh, letting your arms fall limp at your sides. "I guess I've seen too much death to just… let you die."

I've seen too much death to let you die.

Oh. Aki stalls, the sound of his own heartbeat and the echo of steady raindrops working in tandem to play a tune in his ears. Your previous lightheartedness dissolves with the room's building silence, and with those words. They remind him of himself. You remind him of himself — Scared and alone, a herald of death, despite all your efforts to wash its stench from your skin. And Aki, he has been followed by so, so much death.

It's impossible to know exactly what you're burdened with, but he knows what that sort of weight feels like. Death is a heavy thing. The tolls of both people and devils alike have long since sunk into him with fangs bared. Necessary evils, his colleagues would say: the men who trained him, the men who died beside him. To meet your end protecting this land is an honor, to slaughter devils is an accomplishment. By now, blood and death and slaughter are practically burned into his palms and the back of his eyelids. Grasping the hilt of his sword feels as natural as breathing. He can't remember the last time he dreamt of anything pleasant.

In the quietness to follow, Aki tries to picture himself in your place. How much have you lost, to make you so distrusting? How strong and how good is your heart, to still have offered him a safe place to land? Sure, if you were dying, bleeding out, the sight filling his lungs with embers, his head enveloped in the scent of blood and petrichor — Even if you needed him, he shouldn't be saving you. Saving you would go against everything. But he would. In much the same way, he wouldn't let you die. And he knows he wouldn't hesitate.

When it was all said and done, his path at your side would have led in the same direction. Perhaps because it was meant to. Perhaps, if he defies everything, he can keep that path on its course, and he can deserve your efforts to save him.

Realizing you've opened up a little more than you would have liked to, or maybe discerning that you've been standing there gawking at the puzzled, wide-eyed look on his face for far too long — Abruptly, you stand up straight, righting yourself. You stride over to him, taking quick, certain steps. Aki can't help but tense when you put a hand on his shoulder, keeping him steady. Your eyes narrow, your glance traveling over him with quiet contemplation.

"And if we don't want you to die," You start; you're standing up again, with liveliness finally returning to your tone. A faux liveliness, maybe. "You need more medicine. I'm fresh out, so I'll need to gather more if you're to fully recover. Damn," You study him, your hand coming to your chin. "Bandages, too. I almost forgot. I'll need to substitute them- Leaves? No, I'm sure there's some clothes I don't need somewhere…"

Aki's brow raises once you start to trail off. "Are you sure I should stay?"

"Yeah. Of course I am, I already told you."

Leaving it at that, you head back to the kitchen, taking care of the last few steps needed to clean up. While you're busy, he decides to have a proper look around for the first time since he awoke.

The cottage is small, but well lived-in. There's a bowl of chopped fruit, and a vase of fresh flowers sitting atop a rickety-looking dining table. Asters: flowers with purple petals, and a bright yellow center. A few candles line the table and the kitchen counter, flickering with light and dripping with wax. The shelves in the living room are filled with dusty books and interesting nick nacks. He recognizes various creatures hand-carved in wood: a bird, a Great Elk, a kelpie. You've carved lots of birds, actually. You have a whole shelf dedicated to them, large and small and mystical alike.

A book is left sprawled open over the arm of a wooden rocking chair. As if whoever was reading it needed to mark their page in a spur of the moment, and they'd left it there, planning to return to it shortly.

Aki recognizes the cover; a knight, with armor and a shining sword, holding the blade up to a painted sun. The Holy Knight, the story is called, if Aki remembers correctly. Some tale about a knight rescuing a princess, saving the land from a curse, and marrying her to become the king — awfully traditional, for a fairytale.

Not that he minds. Books rarely interested him when he was a kid, but his brother loved those sorts of stories. Aki would read them to him, when their parents were away. Have you read this one as many times as he has, he wonders?

"You're sure I'm not- ehem," Aki clears his throat, turning his attention back towards you. "Overstepping? Feels like I'm intruding on your home."

Your response is quick, sharp, and immediate. "This isn't my home."

"Really?" Aki questions innocently.

You freeze up for a moment, before returning to washing the bowl in your hands, scrubbing the inside with a tattered rag. "I mean- for now, it is. This place was abandoned by the time I got here, I'm only passing through. I'll be leaving once I'm done gathering what I can from the forest. The demons are becoming too much lately."

Immersed in thought, he can't help but restlessly chew on his bottom lip. He won't press you, it'd be best not to. Although, the current plan he's thought of isn't exactly the smartest of choices, either.

Damn it all.

"I understand," Aki hums. He brings a palm to the back of his neck, nervously running his fingers over a mismatch of scars there. "We should leave together, then."

Immediately, you turn around on your heels, your cape fluttering, and give him your most agitated glare yet. "Why are you so insistent on dying?"

"I didn't mean 'leave right now,'" Aki corrects, matter-of-fact. "We can head for the kingdom once I'm healed, and once you've taken care of everything you need to do here, however long that might take. I can keep myself busy. You said you've never been, right? I know the way, I can take you."

You scoff, shifting your weight from heel to heel, "They aren't letting anyone in unless you come with a letter of admission. It's been that way for years now."

"I grew up there. I know how to get you in," Aki replies. Firelight dances in his eyes when you catch them: blue hues, warm and earnest, sparkling like sapphires. Such riches have always been out of your reach, until now. "I can show you around too, if you'd like. It'll be to repay you. For everything you've done for me."

"I don't have any interest in going to the kingdom."

"Why not?" Aki shrugs, tilting his head. His pointed ears give the slightest curious twitch. "It isn't as bad as you might think. If you'd let me talk to you about it, maybe I could end up convincing you."

"You'd sooner convince me to toss myself to the demons." You half-roll your eyes, leaning against the edge of the counter. You turn to watch the dying rain pelt the dining room window: cascading droplets on colorful stained glass.

"Either way," You're continuing, "I have plans. There's somewhere else I need to be, somewhere far away from here- Close to the north mountains, that's where my hometown is. The kingdom is in the exact opposite direction, if you recall."

"That's fine," Aki pivots, after a slight pause. He follows the line of your gaze, trying to discern what you're looking at. Droplets race on the window, before disappearing once they've chased each other too far. "You're still welcome to leave when I do. It'll be safer that way, traveling out of the forest together. As long as you're alright with that, of course. By then, I'm sure I'll be fine enough to head out alone. I want you to be safe. But I don't want you to… feel like you have to listen to me. Or something like that."

He feels like a damn fool, stumbling over his sentences as if he's got no clue what he's trying to say. Aki's jaw tenses, but thankfully, you don't seem very fazed.

"Let's just figure it out later," You huff, "Alright?"

Aki eyes you, up and down. You stand in place, your arms crossed, tapping your foot. Finally, you quit leaning on the counter, standing up straight, and you approach the dining room table. He watches as you reach up, deftly untying your cape and pulling it from your shoulders. You drape it over the back of a wooden dining chair.

"I should introduce myself, shouldn't I?" Aki starts; you stare at him from the corner of your eye, and you're moving in his direction while he's continuing. "You can call me Aki. I'm glad to be acquainted."

He has his hand extended for you to shake by the time you're stopping in front of him. Though, instead, you give him a once over, before immediately striding to the nearby fireplace. Aki awkwardly lowers his hand into his lap, and you proceed to grab a log, tossing it into the fire, where it becomes swiftly accepted by the flames.

Aki clears his throat. "Could I know your name, as well? I'd like to know who I have to thank for saving my life."

You dust your hands. Without giving him a passing glance, you head towards a door on the room's opposite end. The wood is engraved with an intricate design: twin birds, and blossoming flowers.

"I'm going to bed," You tell him, and Aki stares at your back and tensed shoulders, somewhat dumbfounded. You turn the doorknob slowly, allowing the door to open with a creak. It's far too dark to make out anything inside, besides the light of the moon, shining onto some shelves from a small set of windows.

Tone unreadable, you spare him one last look from over your shoulder. "I'll be waking up at sunrise to gather herbs for your medicine. I'll try not to wake you when I do. If you're hungry, I chopped some apples for you earlier. They're on the dining table. I suggest you get some rest, you won't regain your strength without it."

He still doesn't know your name. He still doesn't have your trust — but that's alright. The kingdom is days away, isn't it? And besides, if anyone followed his trail, he doubts they'd be able to find what they're looking for. This cottage is well-hidden. Nearly too hidden for him to find, actually. As long as he's here with you, treading this line, there's time. Plenty and plenty of time.

The Gods can watch, as he defies everything his wretched people once prayed for, once sought to destroy, while letting himself get swept under.

"Goodnight," Aki murmurs, before you can finish closing the bedroom door behind you. "Sleep well."

The fire crackles. Rain taps against the roof in fading whispers, and Aki watches your door shut with an inferno in his heart.

#aki hayakawa x reader #aki x reader #chainsaw man x reader #csm x reader #aki hayakawa x you #aki x you

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juletheghoul · 20 days

Note

Not sure if you have been tagged in WIP Wednesday, but if not do you have any tidbits to share about The General? I am obsessed with him. Thank you lovely 💕💕💕

Hi girlie!💕

omg I'm so glad you wanna know about him- I've been working on a chapter and they are getting into their feelings lol. Here's a sneak peak:

Warnings; 18+ no minors, *feelings!!* vague but big-legal age gap, dirty talk, violence (Marcus is wounded), hurt/comfort, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance), Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus, let me know if I missed any!

Unbeta’d, any mistakes are my own!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

You wake with the sun, the first few rays sliding across your skin like water and it’s hard to move from your place. In the night, your body had brought you close to his body, seeking out the warmth of him. He was still asleep, but his legs had tangled up with yours and it was strange to lay with him like this, both of you nude as the day you were born, yet incredibly comforting.

You took the time to check over his wound, and were pleased to find it looking much better. The edges of it stitching together, thankfully without corruption.

“It does not hurt as much as it did before.” His voice was sleepy, “I will be back on my feet soon enough.”

“Let me dress Dominus, and I will fetch you something to break your fast.”

“Not just yet.” He shifted, and although you helped him, he didn’t struggle quite as much. “Come, lie with me.” He held out his arm, and you went to him, trembling like a leaf to rest your head on his shoulder. “Gods, I missed you, girl.” He buried his nose into the mess of your hair and something inside you grew and swelled, fed and made strong by his words and by his skin.

“I missed you, Dominus.” Truer words had never been spoken by you, the ache for him had been unbearable.

“Did you?” There was something underneath, something desperate and had it not been so early, so peaceful, he might not have asked.

“Desperately Dominus, I feared you had abandoned me, I feared you no longer desired me.” You pressed your face into his neck, breathing him in, his scent, his warmth, him- sustenance

“Come now, girl, you know of my desire for you, it is like a thirst I cannot quench. A hunger I cannot satisfy, despite my dark moods, despite my sour face, you are a source of joy and pleasure I have not known in some time.” His hand brought your face up, his gaze burned into yours and his words affected you so that tears welled in your eyes. He wiped them away, and the tenderness was too much, a sob clawed its way out from your throat. All of the worry, all of the fear that he might have left you alone in the world, to be sold to another bubbled up and he held you as you cried.

“Do you wish to be free of me? Is that why you cry?” Something in his voice broke your heart.

“No Dominus, no-“ you wiped the tears away, moving to look him in the eye and the expression you saw in them was almost too much to bear. “I have never been so happy in all my life, I have never felt about anyone, the way I feel for you.” You press your lips to his, petal-soft. “Sometimes, the things I feel for you are almost too big for my body, I want to be with you always, I want to feel you always. I feared so much while you were gone that I could barely eat, barely sleep-” Your words were frantic, so many things to get out that you could barely speak and he pulled you close, shushing you softly.

“My heart swells to hear you speak this way.” He reaches down, sliding his hand towards the hinge in your knee, to pull it over his thigh. “Peace, let us just enjoy the silence.” You nodded into his neck, letting go of a great breath in your lungs. “If I was myself, and whole, I would be pulling every ounce of pleasure from you now.”

You laugh at the annoyance in his tone.

“Soon enough Dominus, I would have you healthy and healed.” Your hand slides up the smooth expanse of his chest, threading through the curls at the base of his skull.

“Once your wound has healed, you can have me any way you’d like.”

“Any way?” His tone darkens, and your body responds, thighs clenching, heart racing, nipples hardening. “Any way I want? And what if I want you for a day and a night? What if I want you wet and spread for me in this bed until you’re so full of my gift it spills all over my linens?” His hand that had been softly stroking your back moved down and grabbed at your backside, pulling until the lips of your sex spread open. You moaned, and he all but growled. “Do not make those noises girl, not when I cannot fuck you how I wish to.” He pulled your face up, licking into your mouth with a hunger you could not satisfy, not in his current state.

tagging just a few I think would want to read

@221bshrlocked @artsymaddie @xdaddysprincessxx @foli-vora @absurdthirst @604to647

#julesanswers #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #marcus acacius #marcus acacius x reader #general marcus acacius #marcus acacius x you #the general #marcus acacius fanfiction

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ginnsbaker · 1 year

Text

In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships (9/22)

Chapter summary: Several weeks later, an unfortunate situation drives Wanda to seek you out, only to be met with someone she least expects.

Chapter word count: 9k

Pairing: Wanda x Reader, Yelena x Reader (heavy in this chapter)

Author's note: And we start the second phase :)

Next chapter: Ten

AO3 | Masterlist

Nine

Five Weeks Later

“By the power invested in me, by the State of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The minister reads from his pamphlet without as much as a glance to the enamored audience.

Wanda hadn’t known that she was going to attend a wedding near the start of autumn; if she had, she’d have been more than ready with an ensemble that’s appropriate for both the event and the cold season. To be fair, Pietro hadn’t known either. Just a week ago, Shannon surprised him with a date, a venue, and a business card of some designer that she commissioned to provide Pietro’s suit for the ceremony. Wanda might have considered it a trap if it hadn't been for the fact that Pietro was the one on his knees with a ring a year ago. Shannon had simply grown tired of his excuses and took matters into her own hands. Wanda still thinks it’s a colossal mistake but his history with women and commitments tracks. She just wants to know how many more of these she’ll have to attend for the rest of her life.

“You may kiss the–”

The minister is cut off by Pietro diving in for a sloppy kiss, and the small crowd of thirty people cheer the newly weds. Wanda claps for the sake of being a good attendant. She almost feels sorry for Shannon, but if she wanted this, she probably wanted it for the wrong reasons.

And, well, karma is a bitch.

Having been sober for exactly thirty-two days, Wanda’s been nursing the same mocktail she’s had before the start of the program, and she finds it difficult to enjoy anything that’s watered-down. A longing to light a cigarette tugs at her, but the establishment's strict no-smoking policy extends even to the outdoor gardens. Pietro asked that she stays until the party’s over, and knowing how much her presence means to him, she reluctantly agreed.

“Stop brooding at my wedding, for god’s sake.”

It’s Shannon, dressed in her second gown, a simpler one that makes it hard to tell her apart from her bridesmaids.

"Hi, Shannon," Wanda drawls, swirling the tiny ice left in her rocks glass.

"It's Mrs. Maximoff now," Shannon mutters proudly, displaying both her wedding and engagement rings.

Wanda hides her grimace behind her drink. “Try not to get used to it though. I’m pretty sure you’re aware that there had been two other Mrs. Maximoffs in his past.”

“Don’t sass me on my wedding day, it’s just disrespectful.”

“Point taken. I’d offer to get you a drink, but I think that’s just gonna push the stick further up your ass.”

Shannon sourly responds with one of her signature fake smiles, but Wanda can see through the facade. She takes pride in having hit a nerve.

Taking the seat next to her, much to Wanda's dismay, Shannon changes the subject. "Anyway, your ex-wife is doing exceptionally well at our company. She's managed to turn around all the bad practices that have been going on for ages."

Wanda’s brows stitch together in confusion. “Your company?”

“Stark Industries.” Shannon says, taking a sip of Wanda’s untouched water.

The revelations throw her off. You didn't appear too thrilled when Wanda saw you right after your interview, so she had assumed you either didn’t get the position or you passed up on the opportunity. But what surprised her even more was discovering that someone like Shannon held a high-ranking position at a popular tech company–which now explains where the extreme confidence comes from.

Shannon smirks. “Don’t look so surprised that I work for the number one company in the world.”

“Number one?” Wanda scoffs, rubbing her nose with her middle finger. “Hardly. And why are you keeping tabs on her?”

“She works in my department and I interviewed her. She was a disaster, by the way,” Shannon says. “But her references were solid. I mean, Scott Lang? I hired her solely by his recommendation.”

Wanda can't help but smile at the mention of Scott, reminiscent of the old days when she used to host dinners for your boss and your co-workers. She doesn’t, however, dwell this time about the people you’ve brought with you when you walked out of her life. The reality is, people take sides, and rightfully, they have chosen yours.

"I'm happy for her. She's brilliant and hardworking. You won't regret having her on your team," Wanda says softly, her voice a little bittersweet; she remembers a time when she used to be the first one to know every little thing about you, and it's a feeling she misses.

“Why do I get the feeling that you’re hearing this just now?” Shannon smacks her lips together and then fixes her lipstick that has stained the rim of her drink. “I thought I saw you at our lobby right after her interview.” Shannon gives her a knowing look, her eyes filled with a mix of satisfaction and malice. It's as if she's perfectly aware of the unspeakable things you did to Wanda that day.

"Y-You did?" Wanda stammers, her blood rushing to her face.

“I assumed you were seeing each other again. You looked like a lost little housewife in your little jeans and little shirt.”

“I stopped by to bring her food. I didn’t know I had to dress up for that.”

“How sweet,” Shannon says, though her tone is barely mocking. “Well, if you’re not back together, then I have a piece of information you might find useful.”

Wanda leans back on her chair and crosses her arms in front of her. “And what makes you think I’m interested?”

“Because despite my wrong assumptions earlier, it’s clear that you’re still head over heels in love with her,” Shannon says. “Or am I wrong?”

Wanda looks away and takes a sip of her watered-down mocktail and tries to hide the displeasure on her face.

Shannon takes this as her cue to continue. “She recently changed her address in our database. I know because those things usually undergo my approval.”

You moved out? Wanda hadn't attempted to contact you, but while running errands for her cafe, she had found herself in your area a couple of times. Each time, she observed that your curtains were drawn and the lights in the living room were always turned off.

Wanda looks on quietly as Shannon reaches into her purse, retrieves an eye pencil, and grabs a napkin from the table. With deliberate movements, she begins to scribble on the napkin.

“Here,” Shannon hands Wanda the napkin with your address scrawled neatly on it. “You’re welcome.”

Wanda hesitantly accepts it, and then asks, “Why are you doing this?”

"Maybe I'm a hopeless romantic," Shannon shrugs, though the glint in her eye betrays her nonchalant demeanor. It almost penetrates Wanda’s defenses, but then she says, “Or I’m supporting your unhealthy obsession knowing it won’t lead anywhere.”

Wanda finds herself laughing. Unlike Pietro, Shannon had never treated Wanda delicately, even after her hospitalization. She finds it oddly refreshing and, in a peculiar way, endearing.

Shannon adopts a small, awkward smile herself.

“Fair enough.” Wanda says, folding the napkin carefully before putting it inside her bag.

Shannon gets up and runs her palms over the creases on her gown. “Good luck, Wanda. I’m sure you’ll be needing a lot of it.”

Pietro finds her in the gardens, rubbing her arms to keep herself warm. The nighttime breeze isn’t particularly chilly, but Wanda’s always been susceptible to the cold regardless of the season. He looks particularly dashing in the dark blue suit that Shannon picked for him; and with his hair back to its natural brunette color, the similarities between them have become uncanny once again.

“Sorry about that.” Pietro mutters as he approaches.

Wanda tilts her head at him, a playful smile dancing on her lips. "Sorry about what?" she quips, her voice laced with humor. "You mean this wedding?"

Pietro laughs and then shakes his head. “I saw you talking to Shannon and I could tell you weren’t having the best time.”

Wanda doesn't hold back as she speaks her mind. "She's still a bitch," she says bluntly, not mincing her words. "No offense."

“Do I hear fondness in the way you said ‘bitch’?”

“Not a chance.”

“Between me and her, you forget I’m actually the asshole, right? I know she told you I cheated on her countless times.” Pietro says, somewhat seriously.

“You are,” Wanda says. “But I stand by what I said.”

Pietro sighs. “Anyway, I’m not here to negotiate how you feel towards my wife. I’m here to say goodbye.”

Wanda sobers at that. She’s been so used to having her brother in the same city, a call and a cab away.

“You’re returning to LA?”

“The day after tomorrow.” Pietro confirms with a nod.

“Doesn’t she work at Stark Industries?”

“Oh, did I tell you that?”

“She told me a while ago.” Wanda says.

“She can work remotely,” Pietro explains. “And she prefers doing that from our home in LA.”

The wind begins to pick up, its gentle breeze evolving into a stronger gust. The air becomes alive, stirring the surroundings and causing leaves to dance and swirl in a mesmerizing display.

Wanda sweeps her hair back from her face, and asks, “Tell me, honestly, why did you stay here for so long? Even before the–” Wanda finds herself having difficulty naming the accident she had more than a month ago.

But if there’s something she’s learned from therapy so far, it’s that confronting her inner demons requires acknowledging their existence.

“Before my overdose.” Wanda finishes, managing to keep her tone even.

Pietro regards her with a tender look that conveys his immense pride in her recent growth and progress.

“At first, I just wanted to check in on you,” he says, fiddling with the cuffs of his suit. “And when I saw you and the cafe, I thought ‘see, she doesn’t need you’. But at the same time I also realized it was me–I needed you.”

Pietro pauses and rubs the back of his neck–something he does a lot when he’s trying not to be emotional.

"I missed you, Wands. These past few months, I've felt more like myself than I have in years. I know I'm free to visit you anytime, even when you and Y/N were still together, but it's just not the same when–"

“–when it’s just us.” Wanda finishes for him, her voice thick with emotions that her brother is trying so hard to hold at bay.

“Yeah. I had a really great time with you here, it was good to be home after so many years.”

“LA is your home.” Wanda reminds him.

"You're my family, Wands," Pietro says, wrapping an arm around her and giving her a warm side hug. "You're my home too."

“I love you, Piet.”

“I love you too, sis,” Pietro says. “I’m rooting for you–your happiness. Whether it’s with Y/N or someone else or no one. You deserve to be happy. You have a big heart–I know this because you love me just as I am.”

“Then why don’t you just stay here so we can be close to each other all the time?” Wanda sniffs. So many losses. So many changes. Wanda craves normalcy and consistency–things you used to provide in her life with your steady presence.

“Shannon’s family lives in LA, and we’ve already talked about settling there once we’re married.”

Wanda shakes her head, smiling in contempt.

Pietro notices the change in her demeanor and starts rubbing her arm in comfort. “Don’t blame Shannon for this. I suggested it because she’s more comfortable living there if we’re going to start a family.”

“You’re already talking about babies? Piet, that’s a huge step.” she says.

Pietro falls into a thoughtful silence, weighing the decision of whether to share the news with Wanda now or wait a little longer. However, the anticipation and joy of becoming a father soon overpowers his doubts.

With a burst of excitement, he finally speaks up. "Actually, she's pregnant."

"Wow," Wanda exclaims, embracing him tightly, more than thrilled at the news. But as suspicion creeps in, she pulls away abruptly. "Hold on, is that why you rushed into marriage? Because she's pregnant?"

“No. She actually just told me last night, as a wedding gift.” Pietro says.

“I’m going to be an aunt?” Wanda giggles. “I mean, congratulations! You’re going to be a dad!”

"Thank you, Wands," Pietro says, returning the hug.

Wanda pauses for a moment, a realization dawning on her. "I should stop being mean to her," she admits.

Pietro chuckles. "My advice is to take everything she says or does with a grain of salt."

Wanda's expression softens. "I'm going to miss you, you know? Your future kid, and, fuck it–even Shannon. I'll try to visit this Christmas, okay?"

"You better. I already got you plane tickets."

“Oh, and Piet?”

“Yep?”

“I’ll cut your balls off if you cheat on your wife again this time. Not because she’s having your child, but because it’s… not normal. It’s fucked up. We’re fucked up. The stakes are higher for you now, but even if it wasn’t, it just ruins everything in its wake. it's the biggest regret of my life," Wanda states firmly. Although she feels like a hypocrite as the words escape her lips, she feels compelled to express her feelings in the hope that it carries some weight.

“I know,” Pietro says, looking down at his feet. “I’ve been seeing a professional for two months now.”

“You are?”

Pietro smiles and takes Wanda’s hand, leading her back inside the reception. “Where do you think I got your therapist from?”

***

"You've really nailed it with this restaurant choice," Natasha exclaims at you, her fork stabbing into the juicy medium-rare steak. Her mouth waters as the meat releases its flavorful juices. She’s sitting to your left and Yelena’s right, and when you haven’t developed a psychic link with your partner yet, navigating a delicate situation feels like a sailor and a pilot has come together to figure out how a tractor works.

Natasha had phoned you earlier today, informing you that her flight from Washington D.C. was scheduled to depart in a mere two hours. This left you with approximately three hours to prepare for her arrival, as well as to have a conversation with Yelena on how you’re both going to break the news to her unsuspecting sister. However, due to Yelena's demanding work schedule, it was difficult to abruptly pull her away from her assignment and so you took it upon yourself to organize this impromptu dinner.

Your girlfriend, in a state of panic, had only just read your texts an hour ago and arrived late. Since then, there has been absolutely zero opportunity to discuss what your relationship entails for Natasha.

Delaying the inevitable, you focus on other topics.

“So, how was your flight?” you ask Natasha.

“Quick.”

“When did you find out you’re coming home?” you inquire, eyebrows wiggling at Yelena, attempting to seek her support in engaging in the conversation

“The other day.” Natasha says.

“How do you like your steak?”

Natasha gives you a funny look.

Shifting in your seat uncomfortably, you try to think of more questions to ask, but Yelena beats you to it.

“We’ve been seeing each other.” she announces over her plate of untouched meatballs.

Your eyes widen in alarm as you look at Yelena, but she nonchalantly shrugs at you, then whispers, "I thought that's what you were trying to tell me with your eyes."

Natasha serenely savors her steak, taking a graceful sip of wine before responding, "Yes, I'm aware."

Surprised, you murmur, "How did you...?"

With a hint of amusement, Natasha replies, "If I were to reveal my skills, I would be violating at least ten pages of a non-disclosure agreement."

"Right," Yelena huffs, a feeling of ease finally settling over her. She indulges in her own plate, eagerly digging in and savoring each bite.

“You know,” You start, shoulders dropping and feeling some of the tension leave your body. “I thought I’m used to what you do, but it’s still weird that you disappear for several weeks and then you come back like,” you snap your fingers. “And we can’t ask you questions.”

“It’s why I love my job so much. People are literally not allowed to ask questions,” Natasha says with a satisfied smirk, dabbing her lips with a napkin. “But I can. So, how did this happen?” she says, motioning between you and Yelena with her finger.

“Didn’t you already know?” you say with a teasing smile.

Natasha fixes you with a piercing gaze, the kind she typically reserves for her job, making you retreat but not before a nervous gulp catches in your throat.

"Yelena?" she prompts, noticing the uncharacteristic silence.

“I, uh–”

"Hotdog sandwich," you blurt out abruptly, interrupting Yelena's non-existent train of thought, while your mind drifts back to the night when you and Yelena officially started dating. Two pairs of eyes fixate on you, their faces a mix of surprise and bewilderment, as if questioning your sanity. Realizing the awkwardness of your outburst, you quickly clear your throat and gather yourself to continue, "I asked her out one night, shortly after I started my new job, and we kind of just decided to give it a shot while eating a hotdog."

When you look up, Yelena’s eyes carry a fondness, effectively deepening the blush on your cheeks.

“That’s a nice story, Y/N, but I didn’t mean literally. More like… how did you arrive at the decision to be together?” Natasha says, her gaze on you unwavering. You avoid her eyes, suddenly determined to finish the remaining vegetables in your dish.

“It came to us organically, Nat. I don’t know how to explain it without sounding a bit cheesy.” Yelena says.

“I don’t mind cheesy. Cheesy is good. Love is often cheesy, right?” Natasha says, her gaze directed at you. The mention of the word 'love' catches you off guard, and you almost choke on your peas. Although you feel it deep in your heart that you love Yelena, neither of you have actually said those words to each other.

Yelena nods, her expression serious. "Okay, then. It happened because we still have deep feelings for each other, and we felt it was necessary to give it a chance."

You smile, fully understanding and appreciating Yelena's sentiment. "I agree."

“Can I speak to Y/N in private?” She tells Yelena, who just shrugs, and then turning to you, Natasha says, “Is that okay?”

“Sure.” you reply, rising from your seat.

You and Natasha emerge from the cozy Italian restaurant, deciding to take a leisurely walk through the neighborhood. The rain has just subsided, leaving behind glistening streets and puddles that dot the pavement, making each step a bit precarious. The dampness in the air seems to mirror the tension in your chest, and you can't shake off the feeling that this walk holds more weight than just enjoying the post-rain atmosphere. The droplets on the ground reflect the streetlights, creating a mesmerizing shimmer that momentarily distracts you from your unease.

Yet, as you walk alongside Natasha, the silence between you only heightens your anticipation for the impending "sister talk."

You value your friendship with Natasha deeply, and the prospect of jeopardizing that bond fills you with uncertainty.

Just as your pulse falls into a steadier rhythm, Natasha breaks the silence, her voice filled with a sense of pride. "I'm proud of you," she declares. "Honestly, I half-expected to return and find you still unemployed, living in my apartment. But look at you now: a new job, a new place... and a new girlfriend," she adds, without a trace of animosity in her words.

“I was the crutch you had to get rid of after all.” Natasha says.

You laugh nervously at the ‘girlfriend’ remark, appreciating the genuine support from your best friend. "I suppose I relied on you heavily after my divorce," you admit. "It was easy to succumb to self-pity and a meaningless routine because you were there to take care of me. Eventually, I knew I was rotting away no matter how indulgent these Netflix shows are,” you laugh a little. “And well, things simply worked out, you know?”

“Yeah, I can see that it worked out pretty well with my sister.” Natasha quips.

"I care about her, Nat. I always have." you say, coming to a stop to face Natasha and properly look her in the eye.

Natasha nods and takes hold of your elbow, urging you to continue walking. "I know," she acknowledges, a knowing smile touching the corners of her lips. "She may not have shown it earlier, but she’s giddy as fuck. Kind of grosses me out seeing her eyeing you like a piece of candy.”

“But kidding aside, you have my blessing.” Natasha says, and you give her a soft smile in return.

A slight pang of guilt tugs at your heart as you decide not to mention your encounters with Wanda. You understand why Natasha requested this private conversation, and you don't wish to complicate matters by bringing up the brief rupture caused by your connection with Wanda. You and Yelena had reached a mutual understanding regarding Wanda, recognizing that your current relationship should not be overshadowed by your past with your ex-wife.

Besides, you haven’t talked to Wanda since you and Yelena entered into a relationship. Things have been going well; consequently, you see no justifiable reason to stir up any unnecessary complications or rock the boat.

But nobody reads you the way Natasha does, as she brings up the person you’ve been trying to forget all this time.

“And Wanda? Is that over?”

Lying to Natasha is akin to attempting to deceive a lie detector machine; there’s just no way out of it but the truth–or at least some of it.

“We were briefly in touch,” you admit, carefully filtering the story in your mind as you speak. "Coincidentally, she happened to be at the same club where Clint organized your going-away party."

Natasha raises an eyebrow; you read her well enough too, and it tells you that she hadn’t had an inkling that Wanda had reentered your life at one point.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Natasha asks, the level of her tone masking how she feels about that new information.

“Because you hate her?” You say, daring her to deny it but Natasha only rolls her eyes. “And, uh, I don’t know… Maybe because I knew you’d be disappointed?”

Natasha takes a deep breath, the crisp evening air filling her lungs as she gathers her thoughts. "Did I," she begins, "did I push you into making choices in the past that you weren't entirely comfortable with?"

"Why would you say that?" you inquire, puzzled by Natasha's question.

Natasha's gaze softens, and she replies with earnest sincerity, "Because I never wanted you to feel like you couldn't be completely open with me about anything. I never wanted you to fear my judgment regarding your decisions."

You wonder if Natasha would say the same thing if she knew you had fallen into Wanda’s bed post-divorce. You think about how Natasha urged you to file for it in the first place, how she helped in preparing everything from finding a suitable lawyer to ironing out the details of the agreement. Despite your emotional state during that period, you acknowledge that you made those decisions and chose to take responsibility for them.

“You’re like family to me, Nat. Of course your opinion of me will always matter.” you say.

“I’m happy you stood by your decision without me,” Natasha says. “I was worried you’d go back to her as soon as I was gone.”

A nervous smile tugs at the corner of your lips as your eyes flit to anywhere but your best friend; the weight of deliberately concealing a significant portion of the story makes you want to crawl out of your skin. Now more than ever, you regret being with Wanda that way. It had every potential to jeopardize your friendship with Natasha.

“How about you and Bruce?” you say, taking the spotlight away from yourself.

Natasha’s smile is sad as she shakes her head. “That ship has sailed. For good.”

“I’m sorry.” you say.

“Don’t be. He can finally allow himself to be happy. He’s a good man. He deserves more than I can give him.”

“What about you?”

“I’d like to believe I deserve more than he’s willing to give,” Natasha says, her voice not harboring any resentment; but it’s clear that she has accepted the fact that their desires and needs diverged, leading them down separate paths.

“Are you happy?” you ask suddenly, widely curious.

Natasha takes a moment to reflect, her eyes scanning the surroundings. "As happy as I can be," she contemplates. "I've learned that life shouldn't solely revolve around falling in love, you know? I have my work, my sister, my friends, and well, you're not that bad either," she adds with a light-hearted chuckle.

Turning the last corner back to the restaurant, you both bump into Yelena who’s wearing a frown after being left for so long.

“You were both gone for a while already so I thought I’d settle the bill and join you guys for a walk.” Yelena says. “You guys are okay, right?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t we be?” you say, taking her hand and interlacing your fingers together.

Natasha ignores Yelena’s question and says, “How much do I owe you for the food?”

Yelena pushes the receipt in her sister’s hand and says, “Everything.”

Settling beside Yelena on the bed, you reach for the lamp on your nightstand and switch it off. The room is cast in a soft, bluish glow, as the moon's radiance filters through the blinds. It hasn’t been too long since you and Yelena started sharing this room, and despite initially intending to take things slow, the pace of your relationship accelerated naturally. With busy careers, it felt right to embrace the opportunity to spend more time together without the added complexities of planning and scheduling dates.

“It was weird introducing you to Nat as my girlfriend,” Yelena says, turning on her side to face you as soon as your head hits the pillow.

"I think you handled that quite smoothly," you say with a quiet chortle, the sarcasm failing to come across as strongly as intended.

"You were absolutely perfect though," Yelena whispers, her hand gently cupping your cheek as she pulls you in for a kiss. It begins with a slow, tentative pace, reminiscent of the other kisses you have shared since becoming a couple.

Tonight, however, there's an undeniable intensity in Yelena's kisses that sends a fiery sensation rippling through your body. Her touch, tracing the skin below your belly button, ignites a rush of heat that intertwines with the passion of the moment. With your hands threaded in her hair, you boldly deepen the kiss, your tongue exploring the depths of her mouth, eliciting a surprised moan that you eagerly swallow.

As Yelena's fingers venture past the waistband of your underwear, a sudden jolt of surprise shoots through your body, causing you to abruptly sit upright. In the process, Yelena loses her balance and falls back onto the bed.

“Y/N?”

"Sorry," you stammer, attempting to calm your nerves and the racing of your heart. "I just remembered I have an important work email I haven't sent yet and..."

Yelena nods understandingly. "Yeah, sure. Go ahead. I've got some editing to do anyway."

You offer a grateful smile and lean in to press a tender kiss on her forehead. Then, you trail another moist kiss just below her ear, eliciting a soft sigh from Yelena's lips.

“I’ll wait up, okay? Hurry,” Yelena purrs against your neck.

“I’ll be back.” you say.

At half past midnight, you return to a snoring Yelena, her arm sprawled over the empty spot where you’re supposed to be. It was one email and you got carried away. And even if Yelena’s awake, you’re too exhausted to continue earlier’s steamy exchange.

Carefully, you remove her arm from your side of the bed and mold yourself to Yelena’s sleeping form.

You haven’t had sex with her yet. The desire is there–a hot burning coal of it–and you have entertained the thought numerous times, but each time the moment draws near, you find yourself hesitant and not quite ready to take that step. It's a decision you have consciously made, respecting your own boundaries and wanting to ensure that the timing feels right for both of you.

Kissing the back of Yelena's head, you savor the softness of her hair against your lips. With a contented sigh, you nuzzle your nose into her locks, finding comfort in her presence as sleep gradually envelops you.

***

“Ms. Maximoff? Over here.”

Wanda looks up to find Sparky’s doctor motioning for her to come inside the check-up room. She gets up and hurries to where Sparky has disappeared into for almost twenty minutes now, and sees him hooked up to an IV, dozing off on his side.

“Is he going to be okay?” Wanda asks immediately.

“The results of Sparky’s blood test don't look good. His liver is significantly higher than the normal range, and that could be the cause of his recent vomiting. For now, we’ll keep him confined here for one or two more days, depending on his condition, and if he’s responding to medication, you can continue giving them at home.”

“And what if he doesn’t respond to his medication?”

“We will conduct further tests to see what’s going on there. Surgery could be an option, depending on the outcome. While liver diseases in dogs can be treated and managed, there is always the possibility of expiration, I’m afraid.”

Expiration. Dogs have significantly shorter lives; Wanda knows this. But hearing it spoken so soon directly shatters Wanda’s heart. “W-What could have caused this?” she asks.

This is her fault, Wanda makes the conclusion, even before the doctor is done explaining the common causes in detail. She successfully fucked up another important thing in her life.

In the absence of a little furry baby wagging its tail to greet her, Wanda returns home to a dark and empty apartment. Seeking solace, Wanda clings to the hopeful possibility that Sparky may return home in the next few days.

Without bothering to turn on the lights, she kicks off her shoes and curls up into a ball on the couch. Her eyes slowly adjust to the darkness, eventually focusing on the small desk where the potted chrysanthemums you gifted her rest. The faint light casts a peculiar shadow on the wall, capturing her attention. Yet, it is the piece of napkin discreetly slipped beneath the pot that her mind is apprehensively fixated to; a thin, fragile thing that would ultimately lead her to you.

It has remained tucked away in Wanda's study, for a month now, as she couldn't bear to disrupt your life once again. She imagines that you are likely doing well, leading a quieter and less tumultuous existence without her. As for Wanda, she has been diligently working on herself, taking each day as it comes. However, the passage of time hasn't diminished her feelings for you, not even in the slightest. The void in her heart, shaped by your absence, remains steadfast, but she has learned to adapt and coexist with it, allowing herself to grow while carrying its weight.

And she wouldn't—not even for a moment—consider disturbing your peace if it weren't for the dog. If your roles were reversed, and you were the one keeping him, Wanda would undoubtedly want to be informed if his brief existence was endangered by an illness.

But then again, you've made your choice. You didn’t want anything to do with her. It was evident in your absence, when you stopped your visits to her apartment, her café; when Wanda's phone could no longer detect any recent online activity from you. You had simply vanished without a trace.

It would be unjust to intrude on your decision when you clearly didn't want to be found.

…And she’s still, quite literally, debating it when she finds herself at your doorstep an hour later.

Your new building looks lavish, Wanda can only imagine how much you’ve spent on the deposit alone. It was a little intimidating when she was asked to leave an ID and the receptionist had to ring your unit to inform you that you had a visitor–dropping her name to you in the process. More interesting than that, however, is that she gave Wanda the go signal to proceed to the elevators, meaning that you gave your consent for her to see you.

There's a sense of relief in realizing that you wouldn't go to the extent of turning her away just to avoid her altogether. She sets aside the questions that her heart desperately wants to ask, knowing they would only thwart the initial intention she has of seeing you.

She is fully aware of how guarded and cautious you were the last time; memories of her well-crafted plans to lure you and get close to you for the obvious reason of winning you back are still fresh in her mind. Wanda understands that she needs to approach this meeting with sensitivity and genuine concern, keeping her intentions clear and focused on Sparky's well-being.

But as she’s about to knock, the door swings open.

“Hi, I–” Wanda’s words die on her tongue and the nervous smile on her face fades into uncertainty.

Standing there, clad in nothing but a t-shirt (which she recognizes having bought it for you) that goes past her thighs, is the woman from the club. The woman who drew the curtains for you in your living room. Her blonde hair cascades in messy beach waves, framing her face and reaching her shoulders.

She is breathtakingly beautiful.

But what strikes Wanda the most is how effortlessly the woman seems to blend into the space, appearing more like a tenant than a mere guest who just happened to visit you at this particular time.

Does she live with you?

“Is Y/N home? I’m Wan–”

"Wanda. I know. I’m Yelena," Yelena interrupts, her tone firm yet not unkind, like she’s struggling as much as the brunette. "She's still at work. Is there something you need from her?"

“You’re Yelena? Natasha’s sister?” Wanda asks.

Yelena nods tentatively, her eyes studying Wanda's reaction; she was surprised to get a call from the reception that a certain Wanda Maximoff wanted to come up to her unit. Despite the nagging question of whether you've been seeing Wanda all this time behind her back, she makes a conscious effort to maintain her composure in front of your ex-wife.

Meanwhile, something in Wanda's mind clicks. It's Yelena, not you, who allowed herself to go up to your floor. It's her, not you, who wanted to meet her. Wanda's mind races with questions. Does Yelena know about her? Did Yelena feel the need to introduce herself to your ex-wife?

"Uh..." Wanda's voice trembles with the onset of a panic attack. It turns out, coming here was a mistake, and she’s just grateful you’re not around to witness it. "I'm sorry. Please forget that I came here. Don't let her know I was here, please? I'm really sorry. I'll just go."

Yelena sucks in her cheeks as she reads into Wanda’s sudden panic. "Sure," she replies before softly closing the door on Wanda.

The nights are longer at Stark Industries. You knew what you signed up for when you accepted the job, but now you're starting to feel the repercussions. The stress is taking its toll not only on your work-life balance but also on your relationship with Yelena. You haven’t had dinner together recently, much less a conversation that lasted longer than a few exchanges of “how are you” and “I’m fine”. There’s a lot to make up for, but no date in sight to actually start doing so.

The office is empty except for you and the maintenance worker assigned to the night shift, so when your ringtone cuts through the stillness, the sound of it reverberates off the walls of the empty room, making it too loud for you to ignore.

With your eyes concentrated on a formula on your spreadsheet, you answer your phone without looking at the caller.

“Hey, I’ll be home soon.” you say, assuming it’s Yelena on the line.

“Y/N.” A vaguely familiar voice that’s definitely not Yelena greets you. That’s when you remove your phone from your ear and notice the unknown number on the screen.

“Who’s this?”

The caller doesn’t answer right away. Instead, you can hear rain pouring heavily in the background, something you haven’t been aware of due to the thick windows of the office blocking out outside noises.

“It’s Vision,” The voice cracks over the speaker before you can decide to drop the call. “Wanda needs your help.”

The rain had been relentless throughout the day according to the weather app on your phone. You’ve just been too busy to notice, and so you find yourself without an umbrella. Thankfully, by the time you arrive at the location Vision instructed, the downpour has subsided into a gentle drizzle.

“Jesus, it’s freezing.” you mumble to yourself, wrapping your jacket tighter around your body.

You recognize this part of the city, having gone here numerous times in the past to visit your favorite dive bar where you, Natasha, Clint, and Wanda would hang out for hours just talking and having a good time. Although Natasha and Wanda don’t really talk, they engage in group shots, and Wanda would always challenge you to a game of pool, and you would win one or two matches in a best of seven, because your wife–ex-wife–is just so gifted in just about all kinds of sports.

However, it's not the same bar where you find Wanda. Instead, it’s near a dead-end street and you stumble upon her slumped against a light post in a sorry state. It's obvious that she has consumed a significant amount of alcohol, leaving her almost blacked out. It makes you suspicious if this happens often–Wanda getting shitfaced in random places with Vision in tow.

The sight of Vision doesn’t bother you as much as before, but it still leaves a bitter taste in your mouth to see them together in the same place. Vision, to his credit, keeps a respectful distance, yet the yearning in his face is unmistakable. It's a familiar look, one you've witnessed on Wanda's previous boyfriends when they believed you weren't paying attention.

As you draw closer, Wanda's head tilts back, and her intoxicated eyes, heavy-lidded and unfocused, widen ever so slightly in recognition as they lock with yours.

“Y/N? Is that really you?” Wanda drunkenly slurs, her struggling eyes attempting to focus on your face. “If you’re not, please tell Y/N that I’m not with him,” Wanda says, pointing her thumb in his direction, refusing to even look at Vision. “He just showed up out of nowhere and I told him to stay away. I swear, I’m telling the truth. Vision, tell her, please. Tell her to tell Y/N.”

The street lights become too much for Wanda to bear, and she buries her head into her arms, her knees drawn to her chest. She looks so small and insignificant against the backdrop of a vibrant metropolis.

Steeling yourself against her sorrowful pleas, you turn to Vision instead. “How did you find her?” you demand.

“I was out with my friends, and happened to pass by this area on our way back,” Vision recounts. “I saw two men trying to take her home, and we intervened. I tried asking Wanda where she lives so I can take her home myself, but she refuses to tell me. I tried calling you using her phone, but I think you blocked her number, so I tried calling you myself.”

You’re inclined to believe him, but there will always be bouts of suspicion lingering on the surface when it concerns Wanda. Though as your eyes return to Wanda’s shivering form, you can’t help but wonder if she would truly rather die in the ditches than accept help from him. For the first time, you find yourself contemplating the possibility of believing her, although a part of you wonders if it's simply your enduring soft spot for her attempting to sway your judgment.

“Thank you,” you say to Vision, surprised to find a little sincerity in your voice.

“If I find out you’re the reason why she’s this miserable, I’m putting everything on the line to make sure you stay away from her.” he declares, igniting a cigarette as you support Wanda, draping one of her arms over your shoulder and lifting her up. In that moment, she feels noticeably lighter than before, and your hand can discern the protrusion of her ribs as you secure her against your side.

“Is that a threat?” you say, clenching your jaw, your own clothes getting soaked fast, not realizing early on just how drenched Wanda is from the rain.

“It’s a warning,” Vision answers coolly. “As far as I know, you haven’t atoned for anything. And it’s not because you don’t deserve it. It’s because of her.”

He’s right–you walked out of that bloodied room unscathed from the law. All along you thought the consequences of what you’ve done to Vision just miraculously resolved on its own with the help of Natasha, but if Wanda had anything to do with how you’re not being served with at least damages for physical assault, what price did she have to pay in return?

It’s a conversation for later–you don’t need Wanda to protect you, especially if it means being coerced into complying with Vision's demands.

“I’m ready for anything,” you tell him, goading him with a smirk as you feel Wanda nestle closer to you, seeking your warmth. “Now, get your jacket off her and I’ll take it from here.”

As Vision gently takes off the garment from Wanda's shoulders, your eyes catch sight of a distinct mark on her finger, a faded indentation left by a ring that she no longer adorns.

Upon arriving at Wanda's place, there is no sign of Sparky. You feel a twinge of disappointment, as you had been somewhat anticipating him despite the circumstances. However, your attention swiftly turns to Wanda, who appears even worse now that you have brought her home: her lips are dry and pale, the flush all over her face down to her neck is still there, and she feels excessively warm to touch, almost as if she is–

“Shit, you’re burning up,” you mutter as you place your hand on her damp forehead.

Then all of a sudden, Wanda forcefully pushes you away, her hand covering her mouth, as she rushes towards the bathroom. In her haste, the straps of her sandals snap, breaking under the pressure. Swiftly, you trail behind her, conscientiously removing your shoes along the way to prevent leaving any dirt tracks on her pristine floor.

When you enter the bathroom, you find Wanda hunched over the toilet, emptying her stomach. Grimacing at the sight, you kneel beside her and carefully gather her dark hair, holding it up while you wait for her to finish. Once she's done, you flush it down for her. Wanda, seemingly drained, rolls away from the toilet and crawls towards the shower where she simply sits in one corner, closing her eyes with the clear intention of settling down for the night right there.

Faced with a decision, you find yourself contemplating your next course of action. You weigh the responsibilities you had undertaken which was to get Wanda to her apartment safely. What happens to her thereafter should no longer be your concern. After all, Yelena is most likely still waiting for you back at home.

Home. A year ago, the extent to which your definition of it has changed would have been unimaginable.

“Y/N,” Wanda’s weak voice draws your attention away from your thoughts. “You should g-go.” she says hoarsely.

Your fingers close around the doorknob, silent and unmoving, as anger wells up within you; Anger at Wanda for getting herself into this mess. Anger towards Vision for asking you to come to her rescue. Anger at yourself for feeling unable to leave Wanda behind, despite everything.

"Did she tell you about me? I told her not to, Y/N. I'm so sorry..." Wanda's whisper reaches your ears, her eyes remaining shut and her head tilted back, revealing the graceful column of her neck. You instinctively avert your gaze.

“What are you talking about?” you ask.

“I-I went to see you. But she said you were still working. I didn’t mean to intrude, I just wanted you to know about Sparky…”

She? Yelena? You didn’t think Yelena would allow Wanda to go up to your apartment just like that.

"He's not well," Wanda continues, her gaze focused on your face as she takes in every detail of it, as if trying to capture the memory of you in case this is the only opportunity she gets.

Your grip on the doorknob tightens. So that explains why Sparky is nowhere to be found.

“I’m sorry to hear that. What happened? Is he okay?”

Wanda hiccups, thoughts too jumbled to put together anything coherent. "Liver–not normal," she manages to say, her voice trailing off. She had convinced herself that she wanted to see you for a legitimate reason, but as she gazes at you now, it becomes painfully clear that it was her deep longing for you that has ultimately prevailed.

"Is there anything I could-" you start to offer your help, your concern for Sparky overriding whatever tension lingers between you and Wanda.

"You should leave, Y/N," Wanda interrupts, mustering the strength to open her eyes and meet yours. The shame and despair swirling in those green orbs are hard to ignore, but you try to remain steadfast. "She's probably worried about you."

You chew on your lower lip for a moment, and then, instead of doing as she says, you close the door behind you. Silently, you begin removing your own clothes, stripping down to your underwear.

"I have to dry them anyway," you mumble after feeling the weight of Wanda's stare. "Come on, let's fix you up and get you ready for bed."

Wanda reaches for the hem of her shirt, her hesitation evident as she refrains from removing it. Sensing her struggle, you take the initiative, hoping to expedite the process so you can attend to her needs and leave soon. With gentle care, you lift her shirt up and over her head, exposing her trembling form.

That's when you notice it–her wedding ring that Wanda used to wear on her finger, even after your divorce. But now it has taken on a new form, transformed into a pendant hanging delicately from a chain around her neck. It rests there, nestled between her breasts, a symbol of a past chapter in her life–and yours–that she carries with her, in a different way.

Wanda notices where your eyes are lingering and removes the necklace herself when you remain passive and unmoving.

The next task is unclipping her bra, and as your fingers reach for the hooks, Wanda's hand covers yours, halting your actions.

“Is this–I mean, do you think should…?” she stammers out, and you’re unsure if the blush on her face is still from the alcohol.

"It's nothing I haven't seen before," you say, feeling your own face heat up. "I think you have a fever. I need to get you out of these wet clothes, is that okay?"

Wanda nods meekly, giving her consent.

A few seconds later, Wanda is naked except for the pink she wears on her cheeks. You help her get up and move under the shower. You twist and turn the knob of the shower until you find the desirable temperature, and then start shampooing Wanda’s hair.

As the water cascades over her and rinses away her self-loathing, Wanda finds herself surrendering to your care, allowing her to cherish this rare, tender moment she never knew she’d get to experience again. She is grateful for the water, realizing how weary you must be of seeing her cry; it’s just not possible to restrain herself from it when you’re this gentle with her.

“Can you handle the rest?” you ask Wanda, putting your hands under the shower to get rid of the soap.

“Yes,” she answers.

“Okay. I’ll go get some towels.”

Collecting both yours and Wanda's clothes from the floor, you quickly step out of the bathroom before you can start processing what you’ve just done.

Don’t think, just do, you say to yourself as you put the clothes in the dryer.

Don’t think, just do, you repeat as you get fresh towels from the cabinet.

Don’t think.

When you’re both dry and you’re back in your work clothes and Wanda in her pajamas, you accompany her to her bedroom. You tuck her in and touch her forehead once again to check her temperature. The heat still radiates from her body, and it becomes clear that her fever isn't letting up soon. It won’t go down unless she takes something, but with alcohol still in her system, you don’t think that’s a good idea.

Here, drink this," you offer, extending a sports drink to Wanda.

"Thank you," Wanda murmurs, taking a generous sip before returning the bottle to you.

"Try to finish it. You're likely dehydrated," you suggest. Wanda, acknowledging your advice, obediently continues to drink.

“Better?”

Wanda nods with a small smile. “Thank you, Y/N. I’m sorry you had to go through all that trouble. I didn’t think Vision would–”

“You’re welcome,” you interject as soon as she mentions his name. “We’ll talk soon.”

Wanda's gaze remains fixed on her folded hands in her lap. "You don't have to," she whispers. "You don't have to talk to me or see me if you don't want to. I'm sorry. This doesn't happen a lot anymore—not as often as you might think. Just something happened, and... I didn't mean to involve you, Y/N. I'm really sorry."

Something? What exactly happened? Regardless, you don't think it's healthy for Wanda to subject herself to such a high level of intoxication, no matter what the circumstances may be.

"We'll talk soon," you repeat, keeping your tone firm but gentle. "Take care, Wanda. Good night."

Yelena is wide awake in the living room, her attention focused on a book resting on her lap as you arrive home. The soft glow of a lamp illuminates her features, casting a gentle light on her face. There's a stillness in the room, interrupted only by the turning of pages and the sound of your footsteps.

You hesitate for a moment, taking in the sight of her.

"Hey," you greet her wearily. "You're still awake?"

“I couldn’t sleep without you,” she says, somewhat bashfully. "There's salad in the fridge if you haven't eaten." she offers.

You pause for a moment, and then meeting her gaze, you ask, "Do you have something to tell me?"

Yelena levels you with a look, putting her book down, she says, “No. Do you?”

Taking a deep breath, you tell her you do. “I took Wanda home,” you declare, bracing yourself for Yelena’s reaction but her face remains stoic. There's a flicker of something in her eyes, almost as if she had been anticipating your words.

“Can you clarify?” Yelena finally speaks up when you make no further effort to elaborate.

"In the office, I received a call from Vision," you explain. “He said Wanda needed my help. She was in no condition to go home on her own so I took her.”

“Why didn’t he take her home himself?”

You shrug slightly. "Wanda refused to go with him.”

There's a quiet intensity in her eyes, a depth of emotions that she holds back, yet you can sense them lingering beneath the surface. And then, she asks, “And nothing happened?”

“I helped her get change and manage her fever,” you say. “Nothing else happened.”

Yelena's gaze softens, and any trace of her being bothered by your confession finally reveals itself in the form of a soft sigh that escapes her lips.

"Thank you for telling me," Yelena says, wrapping her arms around your neck. "In that case, I should have mentioned that Wanda came by, and I let her come up here."

"Why didn't you say anything?" you ask curiously.

"She told me not to let you know," Yelena reveals quite casually. "And I didn't think it was important anyway."

You hum in response, grateful for her honesty and openness at least. Although, you sense that there might be more to the story than meets the eye.

"Aren't you going to ask me if I've been in touch with her?" you inquire, unable to ignore the nagging curiosity in your mind. Yelena's seemingly mild reactions in response to her encounter with Wanda is slightly unsettling.

“I wasn’t going to,” Yelena confesses, lowering her gaze before they come back up with a vulnerability that wasn’t there before. “But have you?”

You shake your head in response, indicating the truth. Yelena’s shoulder slackens and she steps closer to you. “I don’t want to talk about her anymore. I missed you,” Yelena mumbles the words like a secret, before capturing your lips in a short, sweet kiss, effectively stealing you away from your thoughts.

"Me too," you whisper back, feeling the day's events weighing on you, you take her hand and guide her towards the bedroom. "Let's go to bed."

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #ifiss 2 #ilgoss #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction

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echantedtoon · 3 months

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Ocean Deep Ch14 Mers And Ladies

(Warnings: Mentioning of killing/blood/murder/wounds/drowning/bloodloss, Y/n does have a stab wound but it's NOT serious and doesn't really affect her too much. Mentioning of yn being stabbed with a knife.

NOW SOME IMPORTANT INFO FOR THIS CHAPTER!! I have three things to announce.

Firstly just a quick recap of mer Tengen's design-

Tengen would be a white butterfly koi fish mer and would look like the linked post below except less eel and more butterfly koi also below.

Merman Tengen( minus the eel like features)

his tail would be more like this instead

Secondly the QnA from last chapter. If any questions are lumped together then it's because the same person asked more than one question.

*Is Y/n still alive?

Obviously yes. And she's ok.

*Do mers have jobs or just chill in the ocean? Is there a mer equivalent to the demon slayer corps? Is there a reason why the wives chose to go by Tengen's last names and not Rengoku's? Why does Rengoku still go by his own last name? Is polygamy more common among mers?

They just chill. No not really. Usually only the lady mers change their last names but this isn't always the case, but they love Tengen very much. Rengoku is still attached to his family name. Not really. Some mers are poly some aren't.

*How many chapters are left?

Im not sure. I already have the plot in mind, it's just a matter of writing it out.

*Was Tengen's parts near the end a flashback or happening in the moment?

In the moment. No flashbacks that chapter.

Thanks to everyone who asked questions! Now that's over with-

Thirdly, I made a small side story for Ocean Deep containing Mer Douma x Reader. The link for anyone who wants to read it is below I also read you can replace a pint of blood after donating it within 24 hours if this is inaccurate I apologize.

taglist: @six-eyed-samurai @lavenderdrxp @jjamsbangtan @camilo-uwu @hopefulworld1

@shadyd3ar @amypop122 @azuredragonstrike

@mimisweetz @chaoticoperatorduckhairdo @staarflowerr @aleee-386

Remember if you want to be added to the tag list lemme know.

"Leave her on the beach! Someone will find her or she'll wake up and go home herself!"

A voice..Male. Deeper. Different. Unfamiliar.

"We can't just abandon her! She's wounded! LOOK FOR YOURSELF!"

Pain. Numbness. Cold black closing in.

"....."

"Tengen, please."

"....Press down on the wound tightly. It's a long trip and if she's going to make it then she'll need all the blood she can keep in her body."

Where are you?

.. Everything is so dark.

What happened?

Why isn't there anything here?

We're you dead? Did you finally die? Is this what being dead was? Nothing but black abyss where you couldn't feel anything? ...It was ..oddly peaceful despite being so eerie.

"-likeliness to survive is guaranteed I'd say."

Huh? What was that? It sounded like the second half of a sentence you only just now noticed. Was there other spirits here with you?

"That's a relief. I was worried about the stab to her shoulder there. I do hope she's not too hurt."

"Don't worry yourself too much, Koyuki. It was a rather small blade and it only stabbed some fat and muscle. A few stitches and some rest will have her healed up within a few months!"

A small sigh of relief. "Oh thank goodness. I'm sure everyone will be relieved to hear that."

"How about you? How are you feeling today? That sudden fever came out of nowhere."

"I feel much better but Shinobu says I should stay in bed today."

"That's good. Did she wake up while we were gone?"

"No but she did move in her sleep."

"Ah. Good. That means she might wake up soon. I'll just take your temperature and leave you two to rest for a little while."

There was the sounds of retreating footsteps and maybe a door squeaking shut. Did the afterlife even have doors? You didn't get a chance before the world fell into unconscious again- The next time you regained consciousness, you opened your eyes only to blink suddenly as a harsh light beamed down on you. Was that the fabled tunnel? We're you going to heaven?! A few blinks more had the harsh light evening out into other less harsh colors of browns and beige. You didn't know heaven had an oak ceiling-...

Wait. Ceiling?

F/c eyes blinked and eyebrows scrunched in confusion as your vision ever so slowly unblurred and you found yourself staring at an oakwood ceiling. There was silence as you continued to stare at it for the longest time.. before your head tilted to the right. The light source was discovered in the form of an open window. The sight of a calm blue sky and fluffy white clouds greeted you and a nice warm breeze bringing the smell of the salty ocean came through...Wait. This wasn't the beach. Could it be-??

Your eyes shifted down to your body and you only now felt the soft warmth hugging your body. Clean sheets covered your body as you lied upon your futon and a nice thick and warm blue blanket covered you from your feet to your neck. You were..in bed?? Could it be that this entire thing was just a dream? Only a silly dream about mermaids and jewelry and Akira that felt like it lasted for months but was really only a night or two?

Slowly you willed your arm to move. Your right arm pushed up, up, up. You felt heavy, sluggish, and every movement was a pins and needles tingling feeling. The blue blanket fell away partially as your hand extended to the ceiling and wriggled all five fingers. Your other hand went to do the same thing-

UNTIL A WHITE HOT PAIN SHOT FROM YOUR SHOULDER AND DOWN YOUR SPINE-!!!

"AH!!"

You couldn't help but cry out from the sudden throbbing pain that shot from your shoulder and throughout your body. It was a burning throbbing pain that pulsed out from just behind your left shoulder. Your teeth gritted as you hissed, body contorting in pain and then there was a sharp gasp-

...Wait. That wasn't from you.

Your head turned to the left in the direction of the sound and froze as two pairs of eyes met. A pair of pretty cherry blossom pink eyes and equally shaped pretty white flower shaped pupils stared down at your confused orbs. For a moment there was nothing but silence as your brain processed the other person in the room looking at you- Before she jumped as your body moved quickly.

Pink eyes blinked watching the other woman quickly flip onto her right side and struggle to push herself up onto numb arms and legs. "W-Wait! Don't do that! You'll hurt yourself!"

The other paid no mind to her warnings as she proceeded to crawl like a rapid animal desperate to get away from here. Falling onto her face after getting entangled in the sheets and letting out a yelp of pain. A rush of adrenaline shot up into your veins as you forced yourself back up and, although probably looking ridiculous, you crawled desperately for the door despite the emense pain in your shoulder and how tingly and weak your limbs were.

"Please stop! You're making it worse!"

Ignored. A desperate churning voice pounded at your skull. Run! Run! Run! Get out! Get away! It shouted that over and over, and like a scared injured rabbit you obeyed that. Legs unready for walking were forced up- only for you to fall back onto them with a thud.

"Shinobu! Kanae! Somebody help!"

More people?! SCREW THIS!! In some adrenaline fueled strength, somehow your foggy mind was able to get up onto your legs shaking uncontrollably like you were a bare in a blizzard! You ran! Throwing yourself at the door and throwing it open with a slide! A loud thudding sound reverberated throughout the hall and room as you threw yourself out- Only to collide almost collide into someone carrying a bowl. The pink haired girl squealed as you knocked into her, knocking the bowl of soup outta her hands. The distant sounds of spilling liquids filled the air behind you as your body collided with a wall so wobbly and unstable that you fell over onto your stomach. If your head wasn't blank from the pain, you might've heard the thud of the bowl and the clattering of a spoon somewhere behind you. Scrambling, clawing at the floorboards, and crawling like a desperate animal just turned free you carried on. Looking like a crazy person. Freedom! Freedom! To freedom you nearly were-

Until hands grabbed you.

You squealed out as two pairs of hands grabbed you by the arms on either side of your body and pulled you backwards and away from the door with a window in the middle showing the outside world and your near freedom.

"Fast one aren't you?"

"LET ME GO!," you shrieked kicking out weakly no avail.

Whoever it was was physically stronger as you were dragged across the floor back towards the room, and you were too physically weak to fight them off. Your shoulder still throbbed in pain but that didn't stop whoever they were from pulling you back into the room past the pink haired girl who tilted her head and looked worried with a hand to her face. You cursed pushing and pulling until you were plopped down onto something soft and you were finally released, falling backwards onto the soft bed- Your body said screw it and pushed yourself back up to snarl at your captors-...Only to be taken aback by what..Or better yet WHO who saw surrounding you.

LADIES!!

There was five other women in here staring at you. And all of them were fairly beautiful. There was the girl still sitting in the futon a few feet away from you, her long black hair flowing around her nightgown and an open book she had presumably been reading open wide on her lap. A second figure was worriedly shifting from one foot to the other looking the most worried and had long pink braids that faded to a lime green at the ends. But the two you REALLY noticed was the two looming over you. The one to the right was the most beautiful. Pretty pink eyes, tall, and long black hair that swayed when she tilted her smile at you. The second one was more around your height, and just as pretty with black hair with purple ends pinned up and lavender orbs gazing down at you. She also wore a smile but it looked more..blank than the first one. And then finally you caught a fifth person's gaze. Young. So young that she could've been your little sister if your parents had anyone children. She peeked around the doorframe curiously with pink eyes a similar shade to the tall girl but in design more to the purple eyed one. All three having a similar facial structure.

You stared at everyone around you bewildered before scowling. "Look- Just take what you want!" You held up a hand. "I don't have anything valuable on me anyways! Just let me go and I promise you I won't tell anyone!" The two smiling people exchanged looks above you. "I'm not worth the trouble anyways!"

There was a moment of silence still before Ms. Tall-With-Pink-Eyes chuckled holding a hand to her face. "I think she's mixing up the situation as something else."

"Well can you blame her with what she went through last night?," Ms. Lavender Eyes answered back before they both looked at you again. "I think we got off om the wrong foot." You jumped as with without warning she grabbed your eye forcing it more open as she peered at you. "Her eyes aren't clouded so that must mean she's completely lucid. Are you feeling light headed or anything similar?"

"Ow. " You pulled away from her shaking your head and scowling. "Just who are you people!? Where am I?!" Obviously you weren't home and you weren't on any beach. So where was this place?

"Forgive us. You must be very confused." Ms. Tall-With-Pink-Eyes spoke again before Ms. Lavender Eyes moved beside you. "I'm Kanae and that's my sister." She gestured to said sister who picked up your wrist to feel for a pulse as you were distracted. "You're here because you were hurt. Do you remember anything about what happened last night?"

"Last..night?"

She nodded as her sister went to your back. "Don't push yourself if you can't but can you tell us if you do remember what happened?"

Your eyes blinked. Mind going off in thought. What did happen last night? ..You remembered arriving at the beach- "I..remember the beach. It was so big and full of wreckage." Just thinking about all of those broken ships, some being where the men of your village spent their last living moments, sent chills down your spine. "And it was just turning sunset." You remembered how beautiful it was. You've never seen the sun make water sparkle like that. "Then I-" You opened your mouth but quickly stopped and closed it.

YOU COULDN'T TELL THEM YOU WERE HELPING MERMAIDS!! They might think you were crazy or having bad hallucinations! Or they might turn on you for helping nonhuman creatures!

"I was...releasing some fish back into the ocean I didn't want," you settled on. Technically it was the truth. Mermaids were part fish after all. "And then-"

You fell silent once more. A rock settling in your stomach. Akira. Knife. Stabbing. Everything going black!

"Akira!" The women jumped as you looked around wildly. Fear etched into your features. But there was no man amongst the women still amongst you. "Where is he?! H-He was on the docks with me when I passed out!"

"The man who stabbed you?" You flinched at Ms. Lavender Eye's blunt tone but she waved you off pulling the back of your collar to peek at your back. "..Hmm. The bandages are still clean and tied. I don't think she tore any stitches from her earlier stunt."

Your head craned behind you to raise a brow at her. "Stitches?"

She nodded. "You're extremely lucky! Your wound isn't very large or deep despite requiring stitches. You should be fully healed in two maybe three months. Obviously whoever tried to harm you was stupid in his selection of weapons!"

....You didn't know whether she was being serious or sarcastic with the bluntness of her words but you did frown. "Well thank goodness for that. I was worried about the size of knife that nearly killed me! Thank goodness for stupidity." Your eyes rolled. "But that still doesn't answer my questions. Who are you people and where am I?"

"Forgive us." Kanae(why does that name sound familiar?) smiled wider at you. Maybe to try to comfort you? "You're on an island a few miles off the coast you described. You were brought here by a few friends to have your wounds treated." She held up her hands. "But don't worry. As long as you take it easy, your wound shall heal in the timeframe my sister described." Well that's a relief. "However you lost some blood."

The blood drained from your face. "How..much?"

"About a pint I'd say. Don't worry. Usually the human body replaces that amount within twenty four hours but I want you to rest for at least two or three days before you try walking just in case."

"Oh...Will I be able to walk normally then?"

"Certainly."

You gave a sigh of relief. "Good. Then I can finally be able to go home." Kanae lost her smile for a moment giving a glance at her sister. "Then who are the rest of you?" You gave another look around the room. The other girl in bed was dressed a similar way to you in white nightgowns. We're you in a hospital? "Is she a patient too?"

"Oh. How rude of me. That's Koyuki. She's just running a fever. She's Shinobu, Mitsuri, and that is our younger sister in the doorway." Kanae pointed at each person as she told you their names with a smile. Mitsuri? Shinobu? Kanae? Koyuki? Why did all of their names sound familiar to you? You blinked as the blue blanket was pulled back up your body by Kanae. "Your body needs rest. Try to get comfortable and we'll bring you some food. You'll be needing lots of liquids and try to relax. Ok?"

You didn't know what to think really as you were made to lay back down and watched as they left. Where were you? Where was Akira? Where were your friends? We're they ok?....Your brain answered two of the four questions. Your friends are back in the ocean now safe and sound at last where they should be. By now they were probably already far away from here reuniting with Tengen(whoever he was) and they'd all be happy again.

...

A tiny smile formed on your face at the thought. It didn't matter if you were hurt. Your mission was successful and over with. Your friends were safe and home at last, you were no longer baring any burdens, and you were alive. Even if your current state was less than ideal, you didn't have to worry about anything else. Finally after so many months, the best kind of relief filled your body and you allowed yourself to relax. There was still the matter of Akira ..and Niko's horse but you'd happily deal with both of those later. With any luck the ships will be spared now and things could go back to the ways they were. Maybe people could even move back to town!

Oh how fate loved to throw boulders at you.

The Mitsuri girl had stayed to clean up the soup you made her spill (oops) and then two of the three sisters returned carrying trays of more soup. Kanae and her younger pinked eyed sister. The young girl couldn't have been older than fifteen or sixteen years tops. Both you and Koyuki had been given this crab soup and something dawned on you. The spoon lifted to your face but never touched your face as you froze up staring wide eyed. Footsteps softly thudded towards the doorway on their way ou-

"Kanae Kocho."

The footsteps stopped just shy of the doorway, back to the f/c eyes that now looked at her in familiarity.

"You're Kanae Kocho aren't you?! And your sisters are the same ones that disappeared last year!"

The realization had finally struck you. THESE REALLY ARE THE KOCHO SISTERS!! They'd disappeared last year and vanished without a trace! You weren't particularly close to the Kocho family but being in the same town you'd see them walking around from time to time. It just took you a while to recognize them!

"And you got kidnapped the year before that!," you accused pointing at Mitsuri who only blinked, "And you're the girl that was rumored to have drowned two years ago!" Koyuki blinked at the pointing hand. "What are you all doing here?! Don't you know your families are worried sick about you all?! What gives?! How did you escape that Naga?! Did you all just fake your deaths or something?!"

You couldn't help the rapid firing of questions that left your mouth under the mountain of realizations. These girls were apparently alive, not dead, and seemed in your point of view to be doing so well for themselves. What the hell gives?! No one answered. Giving you wide eyed silent stares until Kanae turned to you still with that smile which had now turned sad.

"Get some rest. Everything will be answered in time."

You were left just like that. Left with the weird sea food tasting soup to eat and with more questions than answers.

...

WHAT THE ACTUALLY HELL WAS GOING ON HERE?!

First all these girls disappear, then a couple merman destroy your town and way of life, then a merman shows up, then you get wrapped up in kidnapped mermaid drama, then you get stabbed while releasing said mermaids, and now the girls that are supposed to be dead... Aren't dead??? Just what the world did you get yourself into!? It was like just when you got yourself out of one mystery you fall into another! You tried talking to the other two remaining girls but Koyuki didn't say anything and Mitsuri squeaked out some excuse to leave quickly. It almost felt like you were back to square one... Y'know what? It's fine. If they ran away from home then that wasn't any of your business but you'd send some anonymous letters to the families (if you could find them) and let them sort this out. You didn't think they deserved to believe their daughters were dead.

You had enough things to worry about without getting involved into anymore drama.

Like getting back home and getting your life back in order. So you didn't mention anything about disappearing or mermaids for the rest of that day, and the next day either. Shinobu had shown up to look over yourself again and you only remained polite and short.

"Do you feel better today?", she asked you.

"Yes. Thank you ..And sorry about yesterday."

"Don't worry about it. I'd act the same way if I was you. Any pain or numbness?"

"Only in my shoulder."

That was it. Only a few sentences before she left again and you were left in bed to rest with nothing but more of that fish tasting soup to eat. You get that they wanted you to have more liquids but couldn't they at least give you better tasting soup?

You couldn't take it the third day. You awoke pretty early in the morning, in fact the sun was barely even up when you woke. Taking a moment you stared at the ceiling for a few minutes before glancing over to Koyuki. She was fast asleep softly snoring and turned away from you.. Everyone else was probably most likely still asleep this early as well.

NOW WAS YOUR CHANCE!

Slowly the blankets was peeled off your body and in the same manner as two days ago, you rolled onto your unhurt side to push up onto your hands and knees. Biting your tongue to not groan in pain that still lingered. Hurt or not you were leaving. You had done your duties, now you could just move on and never look back! Ever so slowly you pushed yourself to your feet which were still a bit wobbly but not as bad as it was two days ago. You should be able to walk now though if you went by what Kanae said. Tip toeing your way over, you slowly slid the door open only looking behind you once to make sure Koyuki was still fast asleep before popping your head into the hallway. It was quiet and no one else was around.

AND THE DOOR TO FREEDOM WAS STILL THERE DOWN THE HALL.

You slowly stepped out into the hall closing the door back behind you quietly. You still couldn't run with your wobbly legs so you instead wobble walked down the hall quietly and made for the door. You had a head start! If you hurried then you'd be able to get away without anyone noticing that you were missing. The front door was upon you. It slid open. You stepped out and quickly slid it back shut. You turned around-

AND THEN YOU WERE MET WITH THE OCEAN!

You stopped stunned by the long stretch of sandy beach only stopping when it collided with lazy waves rolling over the soft sand and wetting any shells under it. The silence was only broken by said waves and the soft footfalls of your feet taking a few steps in the squishy sand. The wind blew send stands of your messy hair flowing about and the hem of your long nightgown flowing. A few seagulls cried out in the distance excited to have some food and leaving you to stare.

"...Where am I?"

F/c orbs scanned the horizon where the sunrise was rising from the horizon. Nothing but blue water was in every direction you looked in. Not a sign of other land anywhere!...You were probably taking further down the beach! There wasn't any wreckage so that must mean you were taken further away from the docks. So if you just started walking then you'd soon come back to the graveyard of ships! Perfect! You hoped the horse was still windering where you left it. With a breath you began walking along the sandy shore and away from the house to get away before they could wake you up and drag you back to the room again.

So you walked. Wobbly along but you walked. And walked. And walked.

YOU DIDN'T SEE THE RED EYES WATCHING YOUR EVERY MOVE OR THE WHITE MASS UNDER THE WAVES FOLLOWING YOU.

Slowly the sun rose higher and higher in the sky making it warmer and brighter. Huh. You knew the coast was really big by the stories the fishermen told but you wondered how far up the beach they took you. Your right side was nothing but beach and ocean. Your left tropical forest you didn't want to go explore. The house was out of sight now, but you couldn't tell exactly how far away you were from it.

"I'm starting to get beat."

Your body still might've not have been fully recovered because you were quickly getting tired with the want to rest. You usually could go on for longer but you were in condition to fight your body's limits. So you stopped and looked around. There wasn't anywhere in sight that could be a suitable place to sit down and rest, until you spotted a large flat rock leading off the shore and into the water a little bit. The waves sloshing on the sides but not wetting the top. Seemed like a good of a place as any to sit down that wasn't in danger of sharp seashells or whatever dangerous animals might be in the unknown woods behind you. But it was smack dab in sight for all to see.

"..Ten minutes," you told yourself tiredly wobbling towards it, "It's only for just ten minutes. Then I'm leaving."

The squishy sand laced with sharp shells scraped under your tired legs soon replaced by warm but smooth rock as you stepped onto the flat stone and sighed. It felt nice. Magenta eyes watched the way you smiled beautifully at your feet and stepped further to the edge of the rock. Drifting closer the eyes came as she slowly lowered until she sat down submerging her legs to the knees and sighing in the relief the cool water gave her sore body. The bottom of her nightgown bunched up just above her kneecaps. A giggle escaping her as the waves rolled over her skin. She looked pretty.

You sighed in the relief your legs were currently getting hugged by the water. "This feels nice. It's too bad my shoulder is killing me."

Bubbles streaming to the surface got closer and closer to you as a white mass got closer and closer until a webbed hand silently reached out to grab the ledge of the rock behind you-

"Ah!" You hissed and gently reached a hand behind you to gentle rub your shoulder with a wince.

"Back pain? I hate that."

"Tell me about it. So annoying."

"I know right?"

"Yes."

"......"

A GLASS SHATTERING SOUND WENT OFF IN YOUR MIND.

Your eyes comically went wide as an owl's as you froze. ...And then you slowly turned around. A man with red wine eyes and white hair was staring at you from the Water's edge.

"Hey."

You squealed leaning back- S P LA S H!!

"SHIT!"

He cried out when her form disappeared under the waves and a second later he dove right back under after her. Silence claimed the area once more before you broke the surface of the Water gasping and clawing at the stone for dear life like a drowning cat desperately pulling yourself up with help from two large hands pushing you up by the waist. Scrambling and crawling onto the once nice dry rock spitting out nasty too salty water before coughing and hacking.

"'Eeehhh. Not really the flashy introduction I was hoping for."

You looked back up and yelped as a head was poking out of the water right in front of you. "Don't fall in again!" It- He shouted with an annoyed frown. "That's how you weak humans drown!"

"Wh-Who the hell are you?!" You leaned back leaning an arm up in case you had to defend yourself.

"You don't recognize me! I literally saved you like three days ago! Do humans really have that bad of a memory or what?!", he barked.

....Now you scowled. "Now see here you overgrown sea mule!" The man whoever he was blinked once taken aback by the sudden scowl and bite you gave him. "I'm too dam tired to be talked to like a brainless rock! I've been drained, stressed out my dam mind, attacked, and nearly drowned TWICE now! The last thing I need right now is the ocean equivalent of a donkey shit talking me! If you want to bother someone, go find a shark to antagonize!"

The man blinked once. Twice. Before he slowly hummed looking you up and down all drenched like a wet cat. "Well...The weren't wrong when they said you were certainly different."

"They? Just who are you?"

He hummed again crossing his arms over the rock's edge. "I thought you already knew...but then again you never met me personally and when we did you were already passed out." A giant smile of ABSOLUTELY LARGE FANGS made you give pause and gulp. "Allow me to actually give you a flashy introduction worthy of my status!"

Two clawed hands dug themselves into the rock and your jaw dropped in fear as an absolutely massive body hauled itself out of the water and onto the rock. A large shadow loomed over you.

He was-..massive!

Even larger than freaking KYOJURO!! And Kyo was bigger than Akira! A body beautiful sculpted by rippling muscles and scars sat itself upon the rock. Scattered purple scales glistening with water droplets aligned in a strange pattern you've never seen on any other mer across the torso and around the waist where his human half blended into a absolutely BEAUTIFUL shimmering white koi tail similar to Makio's only BIGGER and SHINIER! A rainbow pearlescent effect it had has the light bounced off his large koi tail. The fins large and flowing in the water like the fabric of beautiful silk in the wind. But that wasn't all.

A small jingling noise arose with him. The source being from the hoops dangling from his wrists. However you didn't notice that. Only the strange Mitch match of green and red sharp claws sticking out from hands large enough to crush you. Larger golden bands were tightly wrapped around his upper forearms as he flexed them out to you. But the thing was-

HE WAS ABSOLUTELY ADORNED IN JEWELS!!

A series of golden earrings were embedded into his ears, a similar piercing on his bottom lip. Across his forehead was some kind of large silver headband with three beautiful glimmering large diamonds in the front. Remember how Kyojuro's hands had a few rings? Well this guy had LOTS of rings! Some fingers having more than one on them. A long strand of shiny silver rocks clinked together and dangled from his headband. At least three different necklaces were wrapped around his neck with different valuable stones. Down his sculpted figure was a few various chains with a thick single silver one wrapped around his middle with a few polished seashells dangling from it's heavy bulk. But what really stood out was the large red and dark pink polished gems and stones pushed into his scales and embedded permanently into himself. The piercing wine red eyes crinkled up half lidded in a wide fanged smile at you- Holy shit! THOSE FANGS WERE LARGER THAN KYOJURO'S! His pure white hair falling down framing his face and for some reason a strange red birthmark over his right eye.

"I am Lord Tengen Uzui of the Western Isles! But you can call me Lord Tengen! And you have the honor of being in the presence of the God of Ocean's Deep!," he loudly announced out. Bold, assertive, and powerful enough to be feared by all who see him!

You only stared at him wide eyed. Holy shit...HE WAS BEAUTIFUL-!!

You immediately shook your head chasing away any of those thoughts. "...I don't believe it."

"Heh. Having a moment processing my flamboyant stature are you?"

"No. I can't believe the person responsible for half of my suffering is an over dressed full of himself watered down peacock."

"WHAT?!," he shouted turning towards your deadpanned face. "I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT I'M THE MOST FLASHY AND STRONGEST MER THIS SIDE OF THE WEST COAST!!" He shouted in your face pointing a sharp red nail at your face, the bracelets around his wrists jingling with his movements.

".....I still don't see it. How'd you manage to beach all those ships? Flex and blind the captains with your over dressed scales?"

"HAVE SOME RESPECT FOR ME, GIRLIE!! I SAVED YOUR LIFE!!

"Right.." You glanced at the claw pointed at you, and then his large fangs as he gritted his teeth together annoyed. ..And just remembered how much bigger he was than you. On second thought it probably wasn't a good idea to argue with the guy that caused so much damage single handedly. You sighed with a breath. "Right. ..You did do that. Thanks for that." He huffed a sound. "No. I mean it. Thank you. And I'm sorry for being rude earlier. I'm just really on edge lately. A lot of bad stuff has happened recently."

"I've been told." He still looked and sounded annoyed but leaned back up from where he was sitting and recrossed his arms making his biceps and arms flex automatically. ".... You're going to live?"

It was a statement but the way he said it sounded like a question so you nodded. "Yes. I was told my shoulder isn't serious and it'll heal within a few months. I can live with that."

He hummed again. "I guess it's a good thing I got to you when I did then."

"Yes. Yes...So.. You're the famous Tengen Uzui I've heard so much about?" You took a moment to glance over this mountain of a man again. If he was human you estimated he'd he OVER six feet tall. "You're certainly a lot taller than I expected."

..That smile from before was back. "In the flashy flesh!" He winked and shot a one handed finger gun at you which in turn made you giggle. "And you must be Y/n. My wives' told me all about you."

"Ah. You mean Hinatsuru?"

"And Makio and Suma. And apparently Kyojuro.." His gaze peered off for a second. "He told me that you saved him after he stopped breathing. Is that true? Did he stop.. living?"

He was asking you about this now? You tilted his gaze to try to see his eyes but they were firmly set to where his tail met the water. "No. He never stopped living really." The eyes looked back to you. "He just needed a helping hand is all. So did everyone apparently...Are they alright now?"

He slowly nodded. "Yeah. Yeah they're fine." Both arms raised to hold the behind of his head. "They're all still asleep or just waking up by now. I know Suma is probably still sleeping in." He chuckled at nothing dryly. "It's so surreal to have them all back."

"I'm just glad they're alright. I can't imagine what you all went through was anything but terrifying."

"Tell me about it. You have no idea what it's like having every person you love tipped away from you with there being nothing you can do to prevent it. Never knowing what's happening to them or where they are." ... His eyes narrowed down at nothing. "Knowing if they were dead or alive."

"... You're right."

Tengen paused. Blinking. "What?" He looked at you arms falling to his sides. "What did you say?"

"I said-.. You're right." F/c eyes looked away guiltily from him. "You're right. I don't know what it's like to lose family, at least not in the way you did and Kyojuro did. ..My parents died when I was really young but there's a big difference between loosing someone to natural causes and loosing someone to someone's else's own selfish intentions. If my loved ones were kidnapped by someone and taken somewhere I could never get to-...I would have probably felt the same unbridled anger and fear you must've had." ...You looked up at him after he remained silent and found him staring at you with an absolutely shocked expression. "Um..Did I say something wrong?"

Tengen slowly shook his head no. "I-..N-No. it's not that. I-I-...Well to be perfectly honest with you I was actually waiting for you to start cursing me and tearing me apart with what happened to your life."

You blinked. "Oh. I guess they really did tell you everything about me huh?"

He nodded. "Yep. Completely everything. We're very honest with one another. I don't believe in keeping secrets from one another."

Oh gods. If they told him about the effects his actions had on your town and everyone's livelihoods- Then did that mean they literally told him about them kissing you?! And Kyojuro proposing?! And- Oh god. You hoped Kyojuro didn't tell him that-

"So.." A cheeky smirk crossed his face. Leaning closer to your reddening face. "Do all women have this magical power of medical kissing?~"

"UUUUUUGGGHHH!!" You shouted into the open air making him burst into loud laughter as you raised your hands and loudly facepalmed. "FOR THE LAST TIME! IT! WASN'T! A! KISS!! IT'S C! P! R! IT'S A MEDICAL TECHNIQUE EVERYONE IN MY TOWN WAS TAUGHT!"

"Ooh.~ A secret excuse for kissing your neighbors. How flashy.~"

Your madly blushing face snapped to him. "ONE MORE JOKE AND I'LL TURN YOU INTO FISH BAIT!!"

"HAHAHAHAHA!!" His loud laugh and large smile made the seemingly narcissistic personality and the scary persona before that seemed non existent. Melting to a joyful painting that had tears forming at the corners of his eyes. "I wouldn't expect anything less! You certainly exceeded my expectations of you."

"Well..Who did you expect me to be?" You changed the topic feeling your face burning up.

He shrugged still chuckling and shoulders shaking. "Well..I know I wasn't expecting an innocent angel, not with your attitude. But I also wasn't expecting you to literally agree with what I had done so easily."

"I don't agree with what you did." He blinked as you held up a hand. "Not fully. I said I understand why you did what you did and I can sympathize with everyone of you, but I can't forget the damage it caused everyone who wasn't responsible for what you all went through. I DON'T!!" You quickly held up a hand when he opened his mouth. "Blame you. I really don't. But I can say what you did didn't just affect me either."

.. Tengen slowly closed his mouth letting a sigh through his nose. "You-..Have that right, and I can't deny you're right. But you sound almost guilty."

You blinked surprised. "You can tell?"

"I have very good hearing. Sounds and tones tell me a lot. It's how I heard you leaving the house you were in." Ah. That explained the sudden appearance. "Is there a reason to that?"

"I-..*sigh* I dunno. I guess I feel guilty because I did kinda blame you for a lot of what happened for a while but-..I don't know." Your hand held your head again. "A lot of things have been complicated for a long time."

"I- Yeah. I know that feeling."

Silence followed. Nothing but the soft waves sloshing on the shore and a few seagulls cawing in the distance.

"...So why did you follow me?" You peered at him from the corner of your eyes. "You said you followed me from that house."

He shrugged. "Curious about ya I guess. And if I'm being a bit honest, I wanted to be sure they weren't being tricked by anyone. No offense."

"With what you went through it's understandable. I'd do that to if I was you."

"There was another reason why I followed you though. Well two reasons really."

Oh? You turned raising a brow. "Really? And what are those reasons?"

"Well Firstly I wanted to see if you were ok or not. I was told you were fine by those girls-" Wait. Tengen knew Kanae and the others? "-but I had to see for myself. The second reason was to thank you."

"Huh? Thank me? For what?"

"Everything. You willingly put yourself in danger for someone who wasn't even the same species. Do you know how many humans would literally do that willingly? Humans are selfish creatures who-" He paused as your brow rose higher. "Uh- *AHEM!* I mean the bad humans are selfish creatures."

"Nice save."

"I'm serious though. Every human I encountered would've never done something like that. So..Why did you get involved?"

You took a moment to pause. "..I don't really know. I guess it's because it was wrong? Maybe because I would've felt guilty if I didn't do anything? I don't know for sure but in the end it was the right choice wasn't it? I mean-" You gestured to him. "You're all back together and alright. That's what matters."

"Right, right. ...But what happened to you-"

"Wasn't your fault. Sure what you did had an effect on my life but none of this would've happened at all if those people didn't kidnap your wives. You were just trying to get them back. Maybe not the way I'd go about it but again I'm not you."

"Right. So is this the part where I apologize for everything or do humans do the whole emotional talking first?"

You snorted. A smile on your face before you turned to him again. "How about we both just forgive each other and call it even?"

He smiled wider. "Thank Posidon. I thought I'd have to spill every emotion I feel before we get here." You chuckled more. "Seriously however. I am grateful for what you did. Don't think I can repay you for that."

"Actually you can." His head tilted interested. "Don't sink anymore ships and we'll call it even. Alright?"

..Tengen smiled widely. "You got it. I don't think I have any more reason for that anyways."

Relief filled you. At least that was over with..You blinked at something the two of you hadn't noticed. Tengen blinked as you slowly got up and a hand gently grabbed the side of his face so gently. A second later a wet sleeve ran over the underside of his eyes.

"You're crying. Here. You'll be fine now..Sorry if it's not dry. Water will do that to you."

He didn't say anything. Only staring wide eyed at nothing until you backed away from him..and a hand slowly touched his cheek where your hand had previously been.

"Now then." You placed your hands on your hips and looked around. You've been walking for at least an hour now and there was still no sign of where you first started out from. "Can you tell me how far it is back to the docks?"

Tengen stared wide eyed at your form-

"Tengen."

"Huh? W-What?"

"I asked how much farther do I have to walk before I reach the docks again. I've been walking for at least an hour now."

He blinked again before looking confused. "Docks? You're not on the west coast anymore."

You stared at him. "...Beg pardon?"

"You're in my territory. This island here." A hand patted the rock you both stood on. "This is mine. So are the other two islands off the coast and the coast I claimed during my skirmish there."

You stared at him wide eyed. "Wait..Are you saying that Im actually stuck on a deserted island?"

"It's not deserted! Everyone's mates live up in the house there. That's why you were brought here. It has everything you need to stay."

You continued to stare at him. "...WHAT?!"

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