#youre supposed to argue and flip back and forth one thing and another when one turns to a commercial break

[britneyshakespeare]

hey wait. so if you grow up as an only child or with siblings who like the same tv as you how do you learn tolerance?

[whosashan]

Hi! I love your LADS fics <3 if u dont mind i would love to know how youthink each LI do domestic things like grocery shop w mc, thanks <3

FEELS LIKE HOME

PAIRING: Love and Deepspace men x reader

SYNOPSIS: Your life together, in its quiet, domestic rhythm.

A/N: Hi there, thank you for your request. Hope you enjoy!

Xavier

Ever since moving in with Xavier, even the simplest errands had taken on an air of unpredictability. Grocery shopping was no exception.

Determined to finally stock the fridge, you clutched a neatly written shopping list as you walked into the store, intent on sticking to it. Xavier, on the other hand, had a more relaxed approach—one that involved significantly less planning and significantly more mischief.

It started small. A bag of chips appearing in the cart when you weren’t looking. Then a carton of ice cream. A six-pack of soda. You narrowed your eyes as you plucked out the offending items, holding one up in mild accusation.

"I didn’t make this list just for fun, you know."

Xavier merely smirked, his blue eyes filled with quiet amusement. "We need essentials."

"Essentials," you echoed, unimpressed, holding up a family-sized pack of cookies.

"Exactly." His voice was light, teasing, but there was something in the way he looked at you that made your stomach flip—like he was enjoying this little back-and-forth just as much as he enjoyed sneaking things into the cart.

What started as minor offenses quickly spiraled into an all-out game. You tried to stay vigilant, but Xavier was faster, smoother, slipping snacks and treats into the cart with the precision of a seasoned thief. You had no choice but to fight back, slipping in a bar of chocolate when he turned to examine the pasta aisle.

"I saw that," he murmured, his voice low with amusement. His lips twitched into something dangerously close to a smile as he plucked the chocolate from the cart and placed it back on the shelf.

You pouted in protest. "Oh, but your three bags of chips get to stay?"

"I work in subtlety," he replied smoothly, nudging the cart forward. "You, on the other hand, have all the stealth of a toddler hiding candy under a pillow."

You gasped in exaggerated offense, swiping the chocolate back and tossing it in with a triumphant smirk. "Then I suppose I’ll have to improve my technique."

By the time you reached the snack aisle, your little competition had escalated into a full-fledged debate over which brand of candy was superior. You stood your ground, arguing passionately, while Xavier, ever laid-back, leaned against the cart with his arms crossed, letting you talk—only to counter with a single, calm statement that completely dismantled your argument.

"You realize we could just get both, right?"

You huffed, grabbing both bags and tossing them into the cart. And somehow, as if by unspoken agreement, you both continued, plucking item after item from the shelves until nearly half the aisle sat stacked in your cart.

"You’re a bad influence," you muttered as you surveyed the damage.

Xavier merely tilted his head. "And yet, you’re the one who just grabbed another pack of cookies."

Before you could argue, he did something entirely typical of him—pushed the cart forward, only to grab your wrist and, with surprising ease, hoist you into the basket, careful not to cause any damage to your groceries or you.

You let out a small yelp, gripping the sides as he casually maneuvered the cart down the aisle. "Xavier!"

"What? You fit." He glanced down at you, his expression unreadable as always, but you caught the slight quirk at the corner of his lips. "Besides, this is efficient. You can’t take things out of the cart if you’re in it."

You wanted to argue, but between the sheer ridiculousness of the situation and the warmth of his hand resting briefly on your knee to steady you, you found yourself grinning instead.

That was, until you locked eyes with an unimpressed store employee.

Xavier slowed the cart to a stop, gaze shifting to the employee, then back to you. The moment of tense silence stretched—before you both burst into laughter. You scrambled out of the cart as Xavier muttered something about "killing all the fun," and the two of you made a swift retreat to checkout before you got kicked out entirely.

By the time you stepped out into the cool evening air, arms laden with overstuffed grocery bags, Xavier glanced at you with that signature, unreadable expression of his. And then, with no warning, he took off running.

"Xavier—" You barely had time to react before instinct kicked in, and you were sprinting after him, the two of you racing down the quiet streets toward home, breathless with laughter.

Your carefully planned grocery trip had turned into something else entirely. Chaotic. Unpredictable. Unapologetically fun. But then again, that was life with Xavier.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Zayne

You stirred in bed, feeling the space beside you empty, the sheets cool where warmth should have been. Zayne had already left for work, but his scent still lingered—a mix of clean soap and the faintest trace of a scent that's just him. Instinctively, you reached for his pillow, pulling it close in half-conscious longing. That’s when you noticed it—a small sticky note resting beside it, the crisp handwriting unmistakably his.

"I made you breakfast. It's on the kitchen counter. Remember to take care of yourself. I love you."

The simple words sent warmth through your chest. Zayne wasn’t one for extravagant displays of affection, nor was he particularly expressive when it came to feelings. But it was in the little things—like these notes, like the way he always made sure you ate, like the way he remembered details most would overlook—that his love showed through.

You stretched and finally climbed out of bed, padding into the kitchen to find the breakfast he’d prepared. The eggs were perfectly cooked, the toast golden, and the coffee just the way you liked it. As expected, everything tasted incredible—sometimes you wondered if there was anything Zayne couldn’t do.

As you ate, your eyes landed on another note stuck to the fridge.

"Check the fridge."

Curious, you opened it and were immediately greeted by the sight of a neatly placed slice of your favorite cake, wrapped carefully in a container with a fork resting beside it. You couldn’t help but grin as you took it out, snapping a quick photo before sending him a message.

"Spoiling me, aren't you?" You attached a picture of yourself mid-bite, looking perhaps a little too pleased.

Zayne’s response was nearly immediate. "It is only natural for me to take care of my lover."

A simple statement, and yet, it sent warmth creeping up your neck. Even after all these years, he still had a way of making you blush without even trying.

The day carried on, and you went about your usual routine, tidying up a little before getting ready to step out for errands. As you slipped your coat on, your fingers brushed against something in the pocket. Frowning slightly, you reached in and pulled out yet another note.

"Remember to dress accordingly to the weather."

A soft laugh escaped you as you shook your head. He must have left this here last night, anticipating that you’d rush out without checking the forecast. Peeking out the window, you realized it was colder than expected—of course, Zayne had been right. You sighed, grabbing a scarf before stepping out, a smile still tugging at your lips.

The rest of the afternoon went by quickly, and by the time you returned home, you were met with the familiar sight of Zayne’s neatly arranged shoes by the door, signaling his return. You found him in the living room, his tie slightly loosened, his posture still composed despite the long hours he’d likely endured.

"You’re home," you murmured, leaning against the doorframe.

His gaze lifted from the book he was reading, his expression as neutral as ever. "I am. Did you eat properly today?"

You smirked, walking over and settling beside him. "I did. Thanks to my very considerate boyfriend."

Something flickered in his eyes—an emotion softer than words, yet unmistakably there. You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling the exhaustion of the day melt away in the quiet comfort of his presence.

A moment passed before he spoke again, his voice low, careful. "Did you like the cake?"

You tilted your head up to look at him, your smile turning teasing. "Are you fishing for compliments now?"

His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to deny it, but instead, he simply sighed, shaking his head. "I am simply ensuring you were satisfied."

You chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to his jaw. "It was perfect. Just like you."

For a moment, he said nothing—just exhaled, eyes closing briefly as if he was letting himself absorb your words. And then, so quietly you almost didn’t catch it, he murmured:

"Good."

And that, with Zayne, meant more than a thousand words ever could.

Rafayel

Laundry day with Rafayel was never just laundry day.

It started simply enough—sorting through the mountain of clothes that had mysteriously accumulated over the week. You had just finished separating the whites from the colors when Rafayel waltzed into the room, barefoot, a loose button-up hanging off his shoulders in that effortless, disheveled way of his.

He took one look at the scene before him and let out an exaggerated gasp, pressing a hand to his chest like you had personally delivered a fatal wound.

"You started without me?" he whined, flopping dramatically onto the nearest pile of clothes. "Cutie, I thought we were in this together."

You snorted, tossing a sock at him. "You say that like you actually planned on helping."

"I was going to!" he defended, sitting up. "But now you've ruined my motivation. My artistic spirit is wounded." He pointedly rolled onto his stomach, chin resting on his hands, watching you with an exaggerated pout. "You should be making it up to me, not assaulting me with socks."

"You are literally lying on dirty laundry, Rafayel. That’s not exactly poetic."

He gasped again, as if personally offended by the very suggestion. "How dare you? Everything I do is poetic!"

Shaking your head, you grabbed a handful of warm clothes from the dryer and began folding. Rafayel, of course, made no move to help. Instead, he idly played with the hem of a shirt before suddenly holding it up with an exaggerated grin.

"Ah-ha! Finally, my masterpiece is complete!"

You blinked. "What?"

He slipped the shirt over his head with a flourish, the fabric way too tight for him. "You see, love, I have transcended fashion. This? This is avant-garde."

You stared at him, deadpan. "That’s my hoodie."

"Our hoodie," he corrected, sauntering over to steal another shirt from your pile and drape it over his shoulder like some kind of runway model. "Face it, darling, all your clothes look better on me."

"You are the most annoying person I’ve ever met."

"And yet," he purred, leaning in dangerously close, "you love me."

You sighed, but you didn’t argue. He grinned, pressing a quick kiss to your nose before finally—finally—deciding to be useful.

Sort of.

Because, of course, Rafayel didn’t fold clothes like a normal person. No, he dramatically shook out every single shirt, twirling them through the air before attempting what could only be described as the worst folding technique you had ever seen.

You groaned. "That’s not how you fold a shirt."

"Ah, but is there truly a right way to fold a shirt?" he mused, lifting one like he was contemplating the mysteries of the universe. "What is folding, but the physical manifestation of conformity?"

You grabbed the shirt from his hands, folding it properly in two swift motions. "It’s this. This is folding."

He let out a scandalized gasp. "You just destroyed art."

"Rafayel."

"Fine, fine," he sighed, plopping down beside you. But then his gaze flickered with something mischievous.

Before you could react, he grabbed a sock from the pile and tossed it at you. You barely dodged before retaliating with a towel.

And just like that, the war began.

Socks flew. Shirts were used as shields. Rafayel dived behind the laundry basket, dramatically crying out, "You betray me, cutie!" when you landed a particularly good hit. Eventually, he tackled you onto the warm pile of unfolded clothes, pinning your wrists above your head with a victorious smirk.

"Yield," he murmured, voice dipping into something softer, something almost sincere.

You swallowed, suddenly all too aware of how close he was, of the warmth of his breath against your skin.

"...We still have laundry to finish," you muttered.

His lips twitched, eyes gleaming. "You’re so practical. Can’t we stay like this a little longer?"

You rolled your eyes, but your fingers curled slightly under his hold. "Five minutes."

Rafayel grinned. "Deal."

And if the laundry still wasn’t done hours later… well, that was just another beautiful tragedy in his book.

Sylus

The first time Sylus attempted to braid your hair, you thought you were about to lose a chunk of your scalp.

“Hold still,” he grumbled from behind you, fingers threading through your strands with the delicacy of a man who had definitely never done this before.

“I am holding still,” you shot back. “You’re just yanking like you’re tying up a hostage—ow!”

He exhaled sharply, a mix of frustration and amusement. “Well, excuse me, princess,” he drawled, tugging a little harder just to be a menace. “Didn’t realize I was dealing with such delicate conditions.”

You huffed, swatting at his knee. “You volunteered for this, you know.”

“Yeah, well, I was under the impression that braiding hair wasn’t some arcane ritual requiring years of training.”

“You could’ve just let me do it myself.”

"And miss the chance to watch you suffer? Not a chance."

Despite his relentless teasing, though, he actually kept trying. You caught him watching tutorials on his phone when he thought you weren’t looking, muttering under his breath about over-under techniques and damn YouTube instructors talking too fast.

And after a few weeks of unsolicited (but secretly welcomed) practice, you found yourself sitting in front of the vanity, Sylus standing behind you, fingers surprisingly deft as they worked through your hair.

"Huh," he mused, his breath ghosting over the top of your head. "Not bad."

You blinked at your reflection, reaching up to touch the braid. It was clean, even, woven with precision—shockingly well-done.

"Sylus," you said slowly, turning to look at him. "You actually got good at this."

He smirked, arms crossing over his chest. "I can be gentle when needed, kitten."

You narrowed your eyes, pointing a finger at him. "You’re insufferable."

"And yet, here you are, willingly letting me touch your hair," he shot back, smug.

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest was impossible to ignore. Sylus was like this—sharp words, endless sarcasm, always keeping his true intentions tucked away beneath layers of teasing. But you knew better. You knew the quiet effort he put into things like this, the way he never did anything half-heartedly—not when it came to you.

"Fine," you sighed dramatically, tilting your head in mock defeat. "Guess I’ll just have to keep you around as my personal hairstylist."

Sylus snorted, hands already reaching to undo the braid, just so he could redo it better. "Didn't expect anything less from you, princess."

And as much as he teased, as much as he grumbled, you had no doubt that this would become a new routine—because Sylus, for all his rough edges, was the kind of man who showed his love not through words, but through every little, unspoken action.

Even if it meant begrudgingly mastering the art of braiding, just to spoil you a little more.

Caleb

It started as a joke.

You had been curled up on the couch, flipping through old photos when you stumbled across one from years ago—an old, grainy snapshot of you and Caleb, tangled up in a mess of blankets and pillows, grinning like idiots in the dim glow of a flashlight.

A pillow fort.

You snorted, nudging Caleb’s arm with your foot where he sat beside you, one arm slung lazily over the back of the couch. “Remember this?”

Caleb glanced at the photo, and something flickered in his expression—fondness, amusement, something else you couldn’t quite name. Then, slowly, he smirked.

“Oh, Pipsqueak,” he drawled, tilting his head to look at you. “Are you saying you wanna build one now?”

You scoffed. “I never said that.”

“But you want to.”

“I do not—”

“You so do.”

And that was how, ten minutes later, you found yourself watching Caleb steal every blanket and pillow in the apartment with entirely too much enthusiasm.

He had always been bigger than you—towering over you even as kids—but now, with broad shoulders and an easy confidence to match, he looked even more ridiculous draping a fuzzy pink blanket over the top of the fort like it was some grand architectural achievement.

“You’re taking this way too seriously,” you muttered, watching as he wedged a chair into position for support.

Caleb flashed you a grin. “You say that now, but someone was always the first to throw a tantrum if our forts fell apart.”

Heat rushed to your face. “I was ten!”

“You were dramatic.” He reached over and ruffled your hair, and when you swatted at his hand, he caught your wrist with ease, tugging you closer just to be a menace.

“Still are, actually,” he murmured, voice low as he leaned in. “Kind of cute, though.”

You scowled, pushing at his chest. “Let go.”

Chuckling, he finally released you, settling down inside the finished fort with an exaggerated sigh. The fairy lights you had strung up inside cast everything in a soft golden glow, the air warm and filled with the scent of fabric softener and him.

After a moment, you crawled in after him, adjusting the pillows before flopping down beside him. “Alright, not bad,” you admitted.

“Not bad?” Caleb repeated, raising a brow. “This is my best work yet.”

You rolled your eyes, but the fondness in your chest was undeniable. The last time you’d done this, you’d been kids—sneaking flashlights under blankets, whispering secrets and bad jokes late into the night.

“…Feels kind of nice,” you murmured. “Like old times.”

Caleb’s expression shifted—softer now, something warm flickering behind his gaze. His arm curled around you without hesitation, pulling you into his side, his touch firm but easy.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, his voice a little different now, a little rougher. “But this time, I don’t have to leave when morning comes.”

Your heart skipped.

Because he was right. Back then, your forts had always ended with him sneaking back to his room before sunrise. But now?

Now, he wasn’t going anywhere.

You swallowed, curling into him slightly, fingers toying with the edge of the blanket. Caleb's hand settled at your waist, squeezing just enough to make you squirm, feeling ticklish.

Your face burned. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

And, okay—maybe you didn’t. Especially not when he kissed the top of your head, his voice a little quieter when he added,

“…Love you, Pipsqueak.”

And in the glow of the fort, in the warmth of his arms, you smiled.

[ceo-of-sloppy-women]

No grave can hold my body down; I'll crawl home to her

Chapter 14

read it on ao3

Chapter 16

When morning finally calls you back to consciousness, you wake with Sevika’s arm wrapped around you, holding you tenderly to her chest. You can feel her lips pressed to the back of your neck, a soft, relaxed smile stuck to your skin. Sinking into the moment, you are at ease for the first time in nine years, protected on all four walls guarding the most dangerous woman in Zaun. You rest your hand overtop of hers, slowly lacing your fingers with hers, taking what you can like a starving dog.

Sevika must feel the shift in states, as a moment later she’s yawning against the scruff of your neck. Your hand tenses, worried she’ll pull back, heart thundering in your chest. Yet, her arm remains firmly wrapped around you, thumb now stroking back and forth across your stomach.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Sevika hums, her voice full of gravel from slumber.

“Did you sleep okay?” you ask, resting your eyes in the safety of her watch.

“’Course I did, I –“

A loud crash sounds from downstairs, and both of you bolt up in bed. It’s a mad scramble for pants and socks, feet thundering down the stairs as your hand tenses over your holster. Both of you fearing the same thing: infected.

Sevika’s around the corner first, freezing when a kid loudly shouts her name, giggling happily. You run right into her back due to the sudden stop, nose colliding with hard muscle. Pulling back, you rub your nose with a cranky groan. Sitting in the kitchen are Jinx and Isha, with Isha covered in pancake batter (flour mostly, if you’re being honest) and Jinx holding a flipper, a mess of pancakes already in the pan.

“What are you two doing?” Sevika sighs heavily, like she’s on the verge of scolding a misbehaving child.

“Making you breakfast, duh! Isha wanted pancakes, and then she wanted to share them with you two, so we came here,” Jinx says innocently, as if she hadn’t just broken into someone’s house.

“Why couldn’t you just have invited us over?” Sevika grumbles, straightening out her shirt as Isha launches herself at her. She catches Isha effortlessly, holding the kid on her hip. “You know, instead of teaching the kid to break into people’s houses.”

“Because this way, you can’t say no,” Jinx states matter-of-factly, flipping the pancakes. One of them smears against the pan, making a bigger mess. “Oh, maybe that one wasn’t ready.”

“She has a point, Sev’,” you butt in, walking around Sevika to help Jinx so she doesn’t make a worse mess of your kitchen.

“Don’t agree with her! You’re supposed to be on my side!” Sevika sputters, standing in the living room, flabbergasted.

You shrug: “I want pancakes.”

Sevika groans half-heartedly, trying to put on a show more than anything. You can see it plainly written on her face; you’ve already won her over. Just as she opens her mouth to argue further, Isha taps her on the shoulder, getting her attention.

Isha signs, her eyebrows raised upwards, an anticipatory smile on her face: “Can we draw together? Please?”

Unable to sign back as her only hand is holding Isha, Sevika nods her head and says “okay” as clearly as she can.

Isha grins, clapping her hands and squirming until Sevika puts her down. Then she runs off to grab some paper from the coffee table, stuffing a purple crayon in Sevika’s hand. Sevika chuckles, sitting cross-legged at the coffee table and accepting the paper Isha gives her. Isha rapid signs at Sevika, who does her best to keep up with the kid, asking her to repeat what she doesn’t catch the first time. Isha, happy someone’s playing with her, continues until Sevika understands completely.

“Hey, love-sick, you going to help or not?” Jinx demands after failing to flip another pancake.

Snapped out of your lovesick stupor you turn around, face flushed and take the spatula from her. “Let me do this; you can layout the spreads and syrups.”

“If you want to fail at pancakes, be my guest,” Jinx surrenders immediately, turning around to root through the cabinets.

“I’m going to be the one cleaning up the mess afterwards anyway,” you point out, managing to flip a pancake without ruining it.

“Hey, we’ll help clean up, I won’t leave you with this mess. Not after Isha dropped the flour – not a lot of it, but if you wonder why there’s white handprints everywhere, she’s to blame.”

“Oh? Pinning your butterfingers on a kid now, Jinx?” you tease her.

“Dodging the fact you’re head over heels for my aunt now?” Jinx counters, grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

“Hey!” you hiss, shooting a glare at her.

“Oh, shit you’re not even denying it,” Jinx whispers, staring at you with an open mouth. “You’re fucked, bottle-rocket. Good thing I like you already, otherwise, I would make you go through a grueling trial before I kept your secret for you. But fear not! I shall keep your secret safe and sound.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, ducking your head to focus on the pancakes.

“Don’t mention it!” Jinx giggles, grabbing a wet cloth to clean up the floury mess she’s made all across the kitchen.

By the time you’ve finished cooking the pancakes, Jinx has cleaned up the whole kitchen, making it shine (as best as it can in the apocalypse, at least). Sevika manages to drag Isha away from the coffee table long enough to get a plate in front of her. Isha stops whining the moment she’s presented with sweet, fluffy pancakes, scarfing down at least six (you’re not sure where she puts them all in her tiny body, but you’re not about to stop her; there are a lot of pancakes). Somehow, Jinx manages to wrangle Isha into helping with dishes, the kitchen cleaner than you’d left it by the time the four of you part ways. Jinx is off taking Isha to school, and Sevika’s trailing behind you like a lost puppy as you head to the printing shop. You vow to do laundry that night (hopefully), but today you need clean clothes.

As you walk in the store, you nearly run smack into Grayson. Thankfully, she moves at the last moment and the two of you share an awkward laugh.

“You are now the proud owner of a printing press. Make something good,” she teases you, winking as she slips out the shop. “I’ve got orders to fill, so if there’s any problems come find me!”

“Thank you!” you call after her as she walks off into the slowly thickening crowd of commuters.

“Need help?” Sevika asks, lingering in the doorway as if she’s still not sure whether she’s allowed inside.

“As if I’d say no,” you giggle, pulling her inside. “Come on, I’ll need someone to help me figure out what to print first.”

“Make it something useful – basic first aid or survival skills. Something we can print a lot of to get a hang of the press,” Sevika suggests, following you into the back.

“You’re so smart; what would I do without you?” you ask, beaming up at her as you hold the door to the press room open.

“You’d have come up with it yourself,” Sevika shrugs, stepping past you.

“Maybe, maybe not – who knows? Who cares? You’re here with me now, and that’s much better than doing all this myself. I wouldn’t even have gotten to this part by myself, I’d probably be dead to that horde back when you found me,” you say, taking in the (slightly underwhelming) sight of the printing press.

It’s gorgeously crafted, with carvings in the legs and as accurate to the design as possible. Yet, after weeks of waiting, it felt more like a mute point. You’re anticipating the process far more than the press itself, so you set to work figuring out how to get started rather than staring in awe at the truly gorgeous creation Grayson has delivered to your workshop. Besides, everything pales in comparison next to Sevika.

Together, the two of you spend the next eight hours printing pamphlets, getting covered in ink, and giggling – genuinely, actually giggling. You stop short the first time you hear it escape Sevika’s lips, floored at the beauty of her smile. Your heart swells in your chest, craving to kiss her tender lips – to take her right there and then on the workbench. Yet, you carry on, tucking away your beating heart in the name of art. There’s a time and place to swoon over her, even if that swooning won’t get you farther than a few wayward looks. You’ve come to terms with that. It doesn’t make it hurt any less.

When the sun’s finally setting, Sevika drags you out of the shop and to the grocery store. You pick up something easy to make, taking it home and stumbling through the door, already stoned from the walk over. Sevika had acquired new joints from God knows where, grinning as you tried to drag her sources out of her. No such luck.

“Alright, strip,” she demands the moment you step inside.

“What?” you squeak, face flushing scarlet.

“We need to wash your clothes; it’s disgusting at this point. You get dinner ready and I’ll wash ‘em for you,” Sevika explains, holding out her hand impatiently.

“Oh, right,” you giggle nervously, glancing upstairs at your bedroom. “Here, take this –“ you had her dinner – “I’ll be right back.”

“Be quick,” she grunts, disappointment flickering behind her eyes. You brush it off and race upstairs.

Ten minutes later, you’re standing in her shirt, preparing tacos as she fusses with an old washing machine. In solidarity, she’s stripped down and tossed her clothes in as well, wearing nothing but a white tank top and a pair of plaid pyjama pants now. You admire her back tattoo, wanting to ghost your fingers over it, yet you’re covered in salsa, so you let the feeling pass you by. For now, you lean into the quiet domestic life with her, wrapped up in the gentle current of the universe

Clean clothes have never felt better. You’d nearly forgotten what they felt like all together, but nothing beat the next morning when you slipped into a freshly washed pair of jeans and a bra that wasn’t stiff with grime. Well, almost nothing – it couldn’t beat waking up with Sevika’s arm thrown across your chest, a small puddle of drool soaking into the shirt she’d lent you. As if the universe has finally fallen into place around you, and all you have to do is linger within it.

Unfortunately, Sevika doesn’t join you in the print shop that day. Vander arrives at the house in the early hours of the morning to request Sevika’s help with the windmill. You had almost forgotten about the project! Frankly, you were taken aback that it wasn’t done yet; after all, it has been a little more than four weeks now. Though you supposed building a brand new structure, and all of the pieces that go within it takes far longer when you have to do everything by hand (and can’t import pieces from other sites).

Craving fresh bread made from properly ground flour, you don’t even put up a fight for Sevika’s help. You can work alone if it means the next bun you eat isn’t a little gritty.

Your sacrifice leads to the loss of Sevika’s help for the remainder of the week. It isn’t all bad – Jinx and Isha do stop by occasionally to “help out,” but neither were really all that much help. Mostly, Isha sat on the floor colouring, and Jinx rambled about all the fun things you were missing out on cooped up inside. At least it gave you a distraction while you printed the same thing over and over again – you’d moved past survival pamphlets and onto your first attempt at a book, deciding to reprint the novel you were reading the night Sevika had come to you. Hopefully, Grayson will be satisfied with your selection… but printing a novel meant you had to print several copies of the same page over and over again, fussing over spacing and trying to ensure you had the words spelled correctly. All while Jinx tried to steal pages to read them for herself. In the end, you had to keep two bookmarks in the book, one for your work and one for her reading, as she got far too invested while you were making endless copies of the pages.

Slowly, the quiet rhythm of life began to crawl back into your heart, and you melted into the normalcy that used to pervade your life before the apocalypse. It felt good to finally have the rhythm back – it had tried to return while Sevika was injured but never quite stuck after everything that happened afterwards. Finally, it felt like it’s here to stay; a realization you came to in the middle of printing the heartfelt love confession, swooning over the words as Jinx read them aloud in her giggling mockery that gave away how into the plot she actually was.

Before you headed home for the night, you stopped by the grocery store to pick up something special: steak, baked beans, potatoes and carrots. A dish reminiscent of the first night you cooked for her. You’re giggling to yourself as you pick out a new steak rub, indulging your creativity as you grab a stick of butter. By the time you’ve got everything you need, the basket is nearly overflowing (you might have grabbed an expensive bottle of whiskey and some candles too).

Rocking back and forth on your feet in the grocery line, a voice pipes up behind you: “What’s got you so excited?”

You spin around to see Salo behind you, staring at you with a knowing smile, Mel holding his shopping for him.

“Salo! It’s been too long; how have you been? You haven’t given yourself food poisoning again, have you?”

Salo scoffs and rolls his eyes, his smile refusing to budge an inch. “Occupational hazard. I should be asking you how you’ve been; no one’s seen you all week, except for Jinx claiming she visits you every day in this new… print shop?”

“Oh,” you chuckle nervously and rub the back of your neck. “I guess I’ve been so hard at work I haven’t taken the time for myself. Jinx isn’t wrong; I do have a print shop, though we’re not open yet. I’ve got to get two more books printed before I open my doors, so I have something for all ages.”  

“Please let me know when you are ready; I would love to make a larger announcement to the community on your behalf,” Mel interjects, drawing your attention to her. She holds out her hand: “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Mel. Jayce has told me quiet a bit about you.”

You firmly shake her hand, introducing yourself. “I’ve heard about you too – probably not as much as you’ve heard of me. I’d love the help, a little foot traffic would do the shop wonders when I’m ready to open the doors.”

“Excellent. Have you considered collaborating with any local authors to print their works?”

“I have –“ you begin to place your groceries on the counter for the clerk – “I’m not quite sure how to find them, but when I open, I hope to take applications. Printing is a long process; I want to make sure everyone gets a fair chance to have their work printed.”

“A very good idea. I can work with you to connect with local authors; perhaps you could print one of their books as your remaining two.”

“That – that might actually help me decide. If you find anyone willing to work with me, send them down the street, please.”

“Of course.”

You leave the grocery store with a beaming smile on your face as you rush through the evening crowd to get home. Thankfully, Sevika hasn’t made it back yet, so you still have time to roll up your sleeves and get to work. The old cast-iron pan is put to use to sear the steaks as you toss the potatoes in the oven with the pot of beans. The carrots steam in a pot in the far corner of the stove. Everything is given a hefty helping of honey (and other seasonings) to bring out your desired flavours. As things cook, you set the kitchen up around you, lighting candles, setting the whiskey bottle near two glasses, and making sure there wasn’t any dirt on the floor. You’ve even dragged Sevika’s boombox downstairs, plugging it in and tuning it to a local radio station – you’d overheard a group of friends talking about it in the grocery store and wanted to tune in for its first broadcast. So far the music is energizing, painting the kitchen in bright colours that compliment the heavenly scent of your cooking.

You’re so focused on the task at hand and the music that you don’t hear the backdoor swing open, or the footsteps behind you. Until a hand wraps around your waist, her chest against your back, head pressed into her breasts. You squeak loudly, jerking your head up to see Sevika’s sly smile staring back at you.

“Smells heavenly, sugar,” she hums, making you swallow thickly.

“You’ve gotta be louder, I didn’t even hear you come in,” you stammer, trying to make sure you don’t burn the steaks.

Sevika snorts: “That’s not my fault. I even said your name when I came in, you were just too invested in all this to notice.”

“Oh…” you’re thankful she towers over you so she can’t see the way your face flushes in embarrassment. God. This kind of obliviousness would get you killed these days.

“What ya cookin’ anyway? Smells heavenly,” Sevika continues, oblivious to your sudden embarrassment.

“Steak and baked potatoes,” you admit sheepishly.

“Just like the first night, hm? You trying to tell me something?”

“What would I be trying to tell you?”

“I don’t know, but you should write these recipes down; makes the whole house smell divine. Could turn it into a cookbook for your print shop.”

Your head still spins from what she could have possibly meant earlier, so all you manage is a sheepish head nod. You don’t have the faintest idea of what she’s insinuating – it’s not as if you wanted to do anything more than celebrate the good week you’ve had. It’s not as if anything really happened, beyond Grayson flirting with you, that first day. You’d only made steak so that Sevika would talk to you again! Did she think you were mad at her? Oh, God, have you pathologized her with cooking to make her think steak means she’s done something wrong?

“Hey, you even paying attention?” Sevika asks, pulling you out of your mental doom spiral.

“Huh? What?”

“Don’t space out on me now; you’ll burn the steak,” Sevika chuckles. “I said they’re holding a barn dance in a few days to celebrate the new windmill.”

“We should go,” you say immediately, reaching for a plate for the steaks. Sevika grabs one and passes it to you.

“If you want. I usually don’t go to these things, can’t really dance,” Sevika shrugs, giving you space to plate the food.

“All the more reason we should go – you’ve worked hard to help them put on the finishing touches. You deserve a chance to appreciate your own work,” you insist, carrying the dishes out to the table on the back porch.

“You’re just saying that because you want to go,” Sevika points out, taking a seat at the table. The clatter of silverware sings through the backyard as she sets them in the middle.

“Is that such a bad thing?” you ask, sitting down across from her.

Sevika merely grunts, shrugging her shoulders as she takes a steak from the serving platter.

The conversation dies away as the two of you pile your plates high and devour the delicious meal. You listen to Sevika’s day at work – all the dangerous chances she almost died yet unfortunately survived (in her opinion). She listens to your day at work and how Jinx giggled maniacally through the last few chapters of the novel. An air of domestic joy wraps around the two of you, even as you hurry to do the dishes and grab the whiskey off the counter. Sevika puts her feet up on the table – something you scold her half-heartedly for – swirling her whiskey before taking a sip. A contented sigh escapes her as she melts further into the porch swing. You tentatively lean against her shoulder until she pulls you closer, whiskey sloshing in the bottom of her glass so that you’re pressed up against her side.

“This is the life,” she hums, staring up at the stars.

“Certainly better than where I was this time ten years ago,” you scoff, taking a sip of your whiskey.

“Anything’s better than ten years ago. I could get eaten by infected tomorrow and it would still be better than that shit show.”

“Indeed,” you murmur, staring up at her as her face relaxes from a scowl back into the contented smile. Desperation bubbles up in your stomach, craving her lips. You barely manage to temper it down, sating yourself by tracing the line of her lips. Your eyes catch over the piercing at the bottom, tongue escaping to wet your lips as you stew in your own pleasant puddle of arousal.

Sevika, oblivious to your staring, takes a sip of whiskey and continues to watch the night sky. Finishing her glass, she sets it down and wraps her hand around your shoulder, thumb stroking your shoulder. No matter how desperately you crave her, you’re not ruining this friendship over an unrequited crush. You’ll spend eternity in this pleasant misery if you must.

Even if you wanted her thumb stroking somewhere far lower. At least you have the barn dance – maybe you can sway her toward seeing you in candlelight rather than the daylight.

[httpvomitello]

Hello! I’d Like to make an order, can I get uhhhhhhhh Harry Potter fic with Draco Malfoy x reader, where the reader is everything that Draco is supposed to hate: Gryffindor, muggle born, loud and proud, a fighter,(maybe even an American transfer student OOOO but that’s up to you), and above all else not afraid of him or his family and their influence/wealth. But if he is supposed to hate them, then why does he want to kiss them so badly?!

I just find the idea of Draco having a crisis about liking somebody he is taught to despise and trying to cause it away only for it to come right back funny. Meanwhile the reader is thinking about messing up his perfect hair. Affectionately of course!!

Thank you!! 💚

Oooooh, i love writing those kind of thing! Enemies to lovers are so... *chef kiss*. I hope you like it ~ ♡

(btw guys, i'm also taking requests for the avengers now!)

Something Like Defiance .｡*･ﾟﾟ

Summary: Draco’s meant to hate them. His father would expect him to hate them. So why can’t he stop staring? Why do their smirks make his heart race? Why does he want—so badly—to kiss them?

draco malfoy x gn!reader

It started with a spark. A spark of irritation, obviously.

That’s what Draco told himself.

Because the first time he saw you, you were sitting at the Gryffindor table, laughing loud enough to draw glances from all four Houses. You were new—an American transfer, apparently. Which explained the accent, the attitude, and the utter disregard for the way things were supposed to be.

You sat with your feet propped on the bench, half-eaten treacle tart in your hand, arguing with Seamus Finnigan about whether American or British wizarding candy was superior.

You were grinning. Bright. Unbothered. Infuriating.

“Who the hell is that?” Draco had asked, sneering.

“Transfer from Ilvermorny,” Blaise replied, sipping pumpkin juice. “Gryffindor, obviously. You can hear them from three corridors away.”

“Fantastic,” Draco muttered, turning back to his breakfast. “Another loud-mouthed idiot.”

He told himself that was all it was.

But then there was that first class together.

Defense Against the Dark Arts. You were late, sauntering in with your bag half-zipped and your tie hanging loose around your neck.

“Sorry, Professor,” you said, not sorry at all. “Got lost. Staircases here have commitment issues.”

Snickers echoed around the room. You dropped into the only open seat—right beside him.

Draco stared ahead, jaw tight.

“Hiya,” you said cheerfully. “You always this stiff, or is it just me?”

He turned slowly. “Do you always sound like you’ve had too much coffee and not enough sense?”

You smirked. “Only on weekdays.”

And just like that, it started.

The back-and-forth. The banter. The arguments in class that had the whole room turning their heads. You never backed down. You challenged him. Mocked him. Called him out when he acted like a pureblood prince—and you never, not once, looked afraid.

It should’ve pissed him off.

Instead, it thrilled him.

He caught himself watching you.

Too often. Too long.

When you threw your head back laughing at something Weasley said. When you answered questions in class with way too much confidence for someone who hadn’t grown up with a wand in their hand. When you wore your robes like a second skin, like you belonged here, like you were daring the school to try and say otherwise.

You were everything he was taught to hate.

But Draco couldn’t bring himself to hate you.

He hated that.

“You’re staring again,” Pansy said, dryly.

“I’m not,” he snapped.

“You are,” Blaise added, flipping a page in his book. “If you stare any harder, your eyeballs are going to launch across the room.”

Draco glared at both of them. “I’m just watching the disaster in real time.”

“The ‘disaster’ that helped Neville Longbottom reverse a hex you couldn’t?” Pansy arched an eyebrow. “Or the one that shut down Professor Binns with an actual argument and won?”

He huffed and shoved his books into his bag.

He didn’t want to talk about it.

Didn’t want to talk about how he dreamt about your voice sometimes. Or how he found himself imagining what your hand would feel like in his. Or how your insults felt less like daggers and more like sparks dancing over his skin.

No.

Absolutely not.

It boiled over during a duel.

Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. Professor McGonagall’s “friendly exercise in inter-house teamwork.” Which, in Draco’s opinion, was absolute crap.

Especially when you were standing across from him, wand in hand, grinning like you’d been waiting for this exact moment.

“Scared, Malfoy?” you called. “You look tense.”

“Oh, please,” he sneered. “This won’t take more than five seconds.”

“Bet you five galleons it does,” you shot back.

The duel started with a flurry of spells—non-lethal, McGonagall’s rules. But your magic was quick. Unpredictable. Creative. You nearly knocked him off his feet with a well-placed trip jinx, and he had to duck a disarming charm that singed his robe sleeve.

He finally hit you with a light stunner that knocked you back on your ass. And you laughed. Full-bodied, wild laughter.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he demanded.

“Is that what winning feels like for you?” you grinned up at him. “Must be lonely at the top.”

And that was the moment.

Right there, with you on the ground, flushed, laughing, completely unfazed—Draco knew.

He didn’t hate you.

He wanted to kiss you.

He wanted to shut you up and pull you close and figure you out. He wanted to know if your lips were as sharp as your comebacks. If you'd taste like defiance and fire and everything he wasn’t supposed to want.

After that, he started avoiding you.

Or trying to.

Which didn’t work, because you were everywhere.

And then one day, in the library, you cornered him.

“Hey, blondie.” You leaned on the table where he sat, arms folded. “You avoiding me?”

“No,” he said quickly. “Why would I?”

You tilted your head. “Because you won’t look at me anymore. And you’ve stopped calling me loud, which honestly? Kind of offensive.”

He exhaled sharply. “You’re impossible.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” you smirked.

“Why are you like this?” he snapped. “Why do you—why do you have to be so... everything?”

You blinked. “I don’t follow.”

“Loud. Proud. Brave. Fearless.” His voice dropped. “You’re everything I shouldn’t want. You’re a Muggle-born. A Gryffindor. An American, for Merlin’s sake. You don’t care about bloodlines or politics or any of it. You mock it.”

You watched him carefully. “So why do you care?”

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you,” he said, voice low and broken.

Silence.

Your expression shifted, mouth softening. “Then stop fighting it.”

He looked up, startled.

You were closer now. You reached out, fingers brushing his sleeve.

“You want to kiss me?” you asked, voice teasing—but gentle, curious.

He swallowed. Nodded once.

You leaned in, closing the space, eyes locked with his.

“Then kiss me.”

And he did.

Merlin, he did.

[bunnynoirr]

Twilight x black reader part 3

𝐍𖣠𝐓𝐄 ☦︎📓 ݈݇⎼: exams are over and summers just begun so I’ll be posting faster… yayyy *I say with bags under my eyes🥲*

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔⚠︎: none that I feel like putting.

Part 2💜 <-

The night stretched on at Angel’s house, soft and chaotic all at once. The living room lights still hummed overhead, casting a yellow glow that softened the edges of the four girls scattered across pillows and blankets.

Sophia was rifling through Angel’s massive stash of DVDs like she was preparing for war. Y/N sat cross-legged beside Mia, watching in quiet amusement as the “movie selection process” slowly devolved into chaos.

“Absolutely not,” Angel said, wrinkling her nose as Sophia held up a dusty rom-com.

Sophia scoffed. “Okay, what about this one?” She flashed the cover of a horror film so grisly it looked banned in several countries.

“Nope,” Mia shot back immediately, clutching the popcorn like a shield. “I like sleeping, thanks.”

Every movie Sophia presented earned a scrunched nose, a groan, or an exaggerated gag. Y/N just smiled softly, content to watch the push and pull between her new friends.

Eventually, even Sophia grew bored of the back-and-forth and flopped down dramatically onto the couch. Angel took the opportunity to redirect.

“Ugh, can we talk about Matt real quick? I hate that man with my whole heart.”

Sophia rolled her eyes like she’d heard this monologue too many times. Mia, already mid-popcorn bite, nodded along in solidarity.

“I don’t know why you ever gave him the time of day,” Sophia muttered, flipping over a DVD case lazily.

Y/N looked up, brows raised. “Wait… you and Matt?”

Mia swallowed and grinned wickedly. “Oh, it’s complicated. More like… entanglement vibes.”

“Stop saying that!” Angel groaned, hugging a pillow. “It wasn’t an entanglement. We went on a real date and everything!”

“Yeah,” Sophia deadpanned. “And you let him talk his way into your panties that same night.”

Silence fell for a beat. Y/N blinked and Mia’s mouth hung open in shock before she burst into laughter.

Angel scowled, clearly offended. “You don’t have to be a bitch, Sophia.”

Sophia only shrugged, her tone flat but strangely sincere. “I’m not trying to be a bitch. I’m being real. He didn’t deserve you, Angel. You’re too good for that loser.”

The sincerity stunned the room into silence. Mia was the first to break it.

“That’s… weirdly the nicest thing I’ve ever heard you say in the decade I’ve known you.”

Sophia smirked but didn’t argue.

Angel sulked into her pillow, her voice muffled. “I just hate that he still gets to walk around like he’s hot shit. I wish I could make him hurt the way he’s hurt every girl he’s played, including me.”

Mia perked up mischievously. “Hex him.”

Angel’s eyes gleamed with a dangerous spark. “You know what? That actually sounds doable.”

Y/N and the others blinked, unsure if she was joking.

Without another word, Angel scrambled upstairs. She returned moments later with a ridiculous-looking purple textbook featuring a cartoon witch riding a broomstick. The words “A Witch’s Guide to Magic” glared back at them in bold, glittery font.

Y/N burst into quiet giggles. Mia laughed loudly. Even Sophia cracked a grin.

“You cannot be serious,” Sophia said, laughing breathlessly.

Angel glared, clearly not amused. “You laugh, but this book is legit! My grandma used to use it for spells when she was my age.”

“Your grandma was a Pinterest witch,” Sophia shot back.

Still, curiosity won out. Sophia flipped the book open and a yellowed slip of paper fluttered out, landing softly on the blanket.

Sophia picked it up first. Her face tightened. “What the hell… I can’t even read this.”

She handed it to Mia. Same thing. The letters danced and shimmered, shifting whenever they tried to focus. It was like staring through murky water.

Angel snatched it, but her attempt ended the same, headache and confusion.

“This is giving me a migraine,” Angel muttered, rubbing her temples. “What is this even supposed to be?”

Y/N hesitated, then reached for it. The moment her fingers brushed the paper, everything stilled.

The letters sharpened instantly. The words practically glowed in her mind, whispering themselves like an incantation. Her lips moved without thought.

“May his heart hollow the moment hers broke.

May love turn foreign on his tongue…

May every mirror reflect the absence he planted…”

Her voice wove through the room like smoke, each syllable tightening the air. When she finished, silence strangled them.

No one spoke.

No one could.

Sophia’s face paled. Mia clutched Angel’s arm, wide-eyed.

Y/N looked up, and froze.

Behind Sophia, standing in the darkest corner of the room, was a woman. Eyes sewn shut. Mouth pulled into a jagged, unnatural frown. She stared, or seemed to, with a hunger that made Y/N’s stomach twist.

Y/N shrieked and shot backwards, pointing frantically.

“Behind you!” she gasped, voice cracking. The other girls whipped around, but saw nothing.

“Y/N, what the fuck?!” Sophia barked, visibly spooked now.

Tears blurred Y/N’s vision. “I—I swear. There was a woman—right there—behind you…”

Angel and Mia were already clinging to each other, terrified.

“Okay, no. Nope. That’s enough weird shit for tonight,” Angel declared, grabbing the ridiculous witch book and tossing it across the room. “Forget that stupid paper. Forget all of this.”

Y/N looked down at her hands. The paper was gone. No trace. No evidence.

“Where did it go?” she whispered in disbelief.

Sophia looked unsettled now too. “You read it, Y/N. You had it.”

“Well it’s gone now,” Y/N said, voice shaking.

Angel shoved a random romcom into the DVD player and turned off the lights. “No more creepy shit. I don’t care if ghosts tap dance in here, we are watching 27 Dresses and going to sleep.”

Reluctantly, they agreed.

The night dragged on after that, thick with tension and unsaid fears. One by one, the girls drifted into uneasy sleep.

Y/N stayed awake the longest.

She couldn’t stop seeing that woman. Couldn’t stop hearing the words she’d spoken echo through the hollow spaces of the room.

𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵

Y/N woke first. No dreams of drowning, but her body ached like she had.

Her mind wouldn’t settle. The events of last night tangled like vines in her chest.

She sat up quietly, careful not to disturb the other girls. They looked peaceful, or at least, as peaceful as you could be after reading a curse and summoning… something. She couldn’t stay.

She needed air. Needed space.

Y/N slipped on her shoes and jacket, scribbled a note on a scrap of paper, and tiptoed to the door.

“Went home early. See you Monday. xo”

She stepped into the gray morning, where the cold air kissed her burning cheeks and the trees whispered soft warnings only she could hear.

Then, she walked.

Not home. But toward whatever was waiting in the spaces between last night’s nightmare and tomorrow’s reckoning.

𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵

The walk wasn’t peaceful.

Not even close.

Y/N’s sneakers scraped along the wet pavement, but her mind was too loud for the quiet around her to matter. The cold cut through her thin jacket, but it felt like background noise compared to the thick hum building beneath her skin.

The woman with the sewn-shut eyes.

The paper that disappeared.

The words that had slid from her tongue like they’d been waiting.

It was like her body had been hijacked by something older, something that existed in the cracks of forgotten languages and broken promises.

She pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth, grounding herself the way she always did when she dissociated. But even that felt distant now.

Her fingers twitched as she hugged her jacket tighter.

The path she walked wasn’t random. Not really. She didn’t know where she was going, but her feet did.

The lake.

She hadn’t intended to go there, but when she blinked next, she was already standing at its edge.

The surface was eerily still. Even the birds stayed silent.

Her reflection stared back at her like it knew something she didn’t. The girl in the water looked… softer. Sadder. But powerful in a way that sent chills skittering across her spine.

“I don’t know what’s happening to me,” Y/N whispered aloud. Her voice didn’t even echo. It just disappeared into the gray morning.

But someone else heard it.

𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵

Embry’s muscles tensed mid-step.

He had been patrolling with Jacob’s pack again, or at least pretending to. Their voices had long since faded into background static. He wasn’t paying attention to Leah complaining about the cold, or Quil joking about how boring the night run was.

All he could feel was her.

His imprint.

Her scent came first, faint but there. More potent now than it had been at the lake that day. Sharper. Like her heart had cracked open in her chest overnight and was her essence leaking into the earth.

It hit him like a brick wall.

He staggered, shifting back into human form with shaky hands and shallow breaths. His skin burned. His heart raced. He clutched at his ribs, the pull so intense he nearly hit his knees.

“She’s calling me…” he muttered aloud.

It wasn’t literal, but it may as well have been.

He needed to find her.

His mind screamed for it, claws scraping against the inside of his skull until his legs moved on their own.

𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵

She felt it.

She didn’t see or hear him yet, but she felt him coming.

The back of her neck prickled. Her breath caught in her throat.

And when Embry emerged from the trees, shirtless, barefoot, like he’d sprinted through hell to get here. She took a step back without thinking.

He didn’t approach. Not yet. His chest heaved as if he had run for miles in seconds. His eyes glowed with something wild. Feral, but not threatening.

“Why do you keep showing up?” Y/N asked, voice tighter than she intended. “What do you want from me?”

Embry’s throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly.

“I don’t know how to explain this to you,” he said softly, voice rough and low. “I don’t even think you’d believe me if I did.”

Y/N’s arms crossed instinctively. “Try me.”

Embry’s lips parted, but the words didn’t come right away. He stepped forward slowly, careful, as though approaching a cornered animal.

“There’s something about you that’s… different. And I’m not saying that to be weird or scare you. I’m saying it because it’s true. I felt it the first time I saw you, and I feel it even stronger now.”

Y/N’s face scrunched in confusion. “What does that even mean?”

Embry hesitated. “I’m not human in the way you think.”

Y/N flinched slightly, but didn’t move.

“I’m a shapeshifter,” Embry said simply, like it wasn’t the most insane thing someone had ever confessed to her. “A wolf. It’s… in my blood. It’s part of my tribe. And when we meet the person who’s supposed to be ours, it’s instant. A bond. A pull.”

His eyes softened. “I imprinted on you, Y/N.”

She stared.

Silence stretched long and tight between them before Y/N finally barked out a laugh, small and bitter.

“I don’t even know you,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I don’t even know me right now.”

“I know,” Embry said, voice full of honesty. “But it doesn’t care about that. It’s like something bigger made this decision for us.”

Her lips trembled slightly.

Embry took another step closer, close enough that she could see the cracks in his calm. He looked desperate, but not in a predatory way. More like his soul was starving for something it had never tasted before.

“I’m not going to force you,” he added, softer now. “I swear. You don’t have to do anything or be anything for me. But… I think you’re in danger. And I need you to trust me, even if it’s just enough to let me help you figure this shit out.”

Y/N looked down at her feet, her heartbeat too loud in her ears.

A part of her. The part that had whispered ancient words without thinking, the part that had seen a faceless woman stitched shut, knew he wasn’t lying.

Something bigger had started. And maybe, just maybe, she’d need him to survive it.

“…Okay,” she finally whispered. “You can help. But don’t expect me to just roll over and accept all this yet.”

Embry smiled faintly, like he’d just won the lottery.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said quietly.

As they stood there in fragile silence, Y/N glanced past him.

The vulture was back.

Perched high above in the branches, its eyes burned red against the gray sky, as though it, too, had been waiting for her answer.

𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵

By the time Y/N reached her front porch, her mind felt like a cluttered drawer someone kept slamming shut.

The house was still and dark. Too still.

Thomas’s shoes were by the door. Jack’s keys were on the hook. Evelyn’s purse slumped lazily on the counter.

They’re home, she thought. But asleep.

The silence wrapped around her like a blanket and a noose all at once.

She moved on autopilot, shoes kicked off, jacket draped over her desk chair, light switched off, and slipped into bed without even changing clothes.

The second her head hit the pillow, the exhaustion she had been fighting all day caught up with her in a violent wave.

She didn’t even have the strength to fight sleep this time.

The dream didn’t creep in gently.

It dragged her under.

Water, cold, black, infinite, swallowed her whole before she could even blink.

Her lungs screamed as she struggled, arms flailing in slow motion, hair swirling around her like ink in the void.

But this time, it wasn’t vague.

It wasn’t faceless.

The hands wrapped around her throat weren’t shapeless shadows.

She could see her now.

A girl.

Long, black hair fanned out like dark ribbons in the water, drifting elegantly despite the violence in her grip.

Her face was pale, almost luminescent in the black water.

And her eyes.

Piercing. Unnatural. Blue that wasn’t blue, but like frozen lightning cracking through a storm.

Y/N’s vision blurred from the pressure and the water burning at her eyes, but those eyes burned right through the distortion.

Hateful.

Merciless.

The girl’s lips were twisted into a cruel snarl, and when she opened her mouth, bubbles escaping like tiny silver ghosts, Y/N heard nothing.

But she felt the words.

“Thief,” they echoed, deep in her bones.

Y/N thrashed harder. Her hands clawed at the girl’s wrists, but it was like trying to tear stone from a mountain.

The girl squeezed tighter.

“Stolen,” the word cut through again. Not spoken aloud, but inside Y/N’s skull like a blade scraping against bone.

“No!” Y/N tried to cry, but only bubbles escaped her lips.

She couldn’t breathe. Her vision went white at the edges.

She was going to die.

Again.

Again, the word struck her like lightning.

Like this wasn’t the first time.

The girl leaned in closer, her face inches from Y/N’s as she tightened her grip, her black hair curling around Y/N like vines pulling her deeper.

“You are not yours,” the girl whispered this time, and this time, Y/N heard it.

Heard it in that warped, watery realm.

“You are mine.”

𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵

Y/N shot up in bed.

Her chest heaved. Sweat coated her face and neck.

Her fingers instinctively flew to her throat. No marks.

No bruises.

But it felt real.

Her throat ached from phantom hands. Her ears still rang with that last word.

“You are mine.”

She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes, rocking slightly on the edge of her bed as she tried to shake the terror loose from her muscles.

But deep down she knew…That wasn’t just a nightmare. That wasn’t just a random, bad dream.

Someone, something, had shown itself to her.

Y/N wasn’t sure she was waking up from just a dream anymore.

[qcomicsy]

I have loved reading your comic live blogs and your opinions on characters. Do you have any comic runs that you would recommend for DC or Marvel?

Aw that's so sweet thank you! ♡

And yes I do have! Let's Dive.

Disclaimer: This list doesn't have a particular timeline nor is character driven. It's general runs I had a good time reading it or I find it particularly interesting.

DC

Batman and Associates

Serious Runs.

Prodigal

An old run I cannot recommend enough.

Prodigal is one of the runs entangled with Knightfall¹. It follows Bruce, after being seriously hurt by Bane, Dick and Tim trying to adapt to a new dynamic where Dick fills in as Batman for the first time and Tim works with him as his Robin.

It is interesting because it flips their dynamics for the first time in a long while and has a realistic take on how this affects their psychs but without getting much edgy or losing more light aspects comics used to have. Like the villain of the week and the back and forth where Batman characters thrive when written well.

It's good read if you:

Want to understand Dick Grayson's as character better.

Want to understand Dick's relationship with Bruce/Batman and Tim better.

Want to dive in on the relationship Dick has with the Batman mantle and how evolved over the years.

Like the more easy going aspects of the batfamily with getting too fannon.

Knightfall¹

Another old comic. I don't think you have to read Knightfell to understand prodigal. But I think it helps.

Knightfell is more an event than a comic run, but damn right is worth it.

All you need to know is that Bane hurts Bruce in a way he has to step back from being Batman for a long while, to a point that Bruce considers seriously stepping away from being the Batman all together, and passing the mantle down for other people. It explores how this affects Gotham City, Bruce's personal life and mental health, his loved one's lives and mental health and it has long term consequences in his comic book history.

It's a comic run that can be very overwhelming to read. There's a lot of comics related to it in different places so I'd recommend using a guide.

You don't have to read all of these comics to have the general idea of it. I didn't. Take your time.

It's a good read because:

In my personal opinion shows the exact moment where Bruce actually starts to break down to the character we have today. And this time without going back.

Shows how heroes work can take a tool not only on an emotional and mental aspect but also psychical.

Has a good balance between tragedy and hope that really ties in together. A rare thing in comics these days, respect the characters in their core. Even the ones you aren't supposed to like. Very. Very well written.

Jason's Robin Run.

A controversial comic run and comic era.

Jason's Robin Run is an interesting run, either loved or hated by people since 1983. And if you're a Jason fan I cannot recommend you enough.

The interesting aspect of Jason's Robin run is that the writing of it transcends time and even writers'intent. Where some of them didn't even like the idea of Robin. And yet wrote one of the best poetic ironies that DC Batman's could ever have.

At its worst the writing is classicists and pessimistic. And at it's best turning of your critical thinking is cozy and heart wrecking. It follows Jason's early days from the roots of his character until his downfall.

And I have an unpopular opinion of it.

Personally I think it's a good case study of how DC treats characters who come from lower class and abusive families. It also opens a discussion about how characters that aren't the perfect victim archetype are treated and written, Bruce's different attempts at raising his children and the influence of Mafia Movies from the 80's in western comics. I argue it's absolutely required reading to understand Jason Todd's character and how he works as a person even before the major trauma that changed his life forever.

It's good read if you:

Want to understand Jason's Robin better.

Want to understand Jason's character better.

Want to write Jason Todd, especially as a Robin.

Like Mafia centered stories and not much of large big bad villains.

Likes Bruce as a Good Dad. Or generally Likeable.

Robin War.

Good political commentary. Great Characters. Duke's introduction. Batfamily Shenanigans.

I will always recommend Robin War. It was recommended to me waaay back when I was starting to write the Batkids Podcast (bless you Gotham War anon!). And it's been an all time favorite to me since then.

Robin war is one of the few comics that approaches how Heroes could work as an icon that inspires change not only to individuals but also to social movements and how the youth tend to be on the front lines of change.

It's Duke's major introduction to Batman comics and the kid absolutely nails it. His relationship with Damian is adorable and interesting, so much they deserve more comics together. There are also good moments between the batfamily (Tim, Duke, Damian and Jason) and it tips their toes on how the Government tends to react to political movements from the people in an insightful way I was missing in the comics for a while.

It's a good read if you:

Like political commentary.

Want to understand Duke's character better.

Likes the Batfamily being silly and insufferable.

Want to Write Duke and Damian better.

Red Robin

So good everyone still misses more than ten years from now.

To be honest I don't recommend Red Robin if you're starting to read Tim character. I feel like a lot of people start with Red Robin gets frustrated with his character believe this is how Tim behaves in all times.

And this happens because... Tim is not like that. At least not normally. Red Robin exists after a major trauma that surrounds all the members of the batfamily and even more traumas that surround Tim's life. He had broken up with Steph, His best friend was Dead, Everyone thought Bruce was dead too.

Almost every role of the Batfamily changed at the time, Dick was Batman (not from his volution this time), Damian was Robin, Bruce wasn't there. So it's good to be aware that every character action in this comic will happen in reaction to that.

If you want to understand Tim or learn more about him as a character I recommend you Young Justice early runs or Robin (1993) mind you I am not well read on Tim's cannon.

Disclaimer off? Good because Red Robin is one of the funniest tragedies I ever read. And it's fucking amazing. It has everything. Action, Romantic Drama with Steph (a bit of bitter exes-kind-of-back-and-off-again-thing, Tim being a little shit that bullshits his way out of the most crazy situations he was putting in my himself or other enviroments, Drama, Angst. It's just... genuinely so good. Well written. Oh how we miss well written comics.

Also Tim's narration is so unabashedly funny I kind of wished he had an animated series of this comic except almost like fleabag style.

Fun and Easy reads.

📕 Harley Quinn 52. - One of the few good things to get off from 52. Also one of the first comics that explores Harley as a full fledged character with wants and dreams and aspirations. And the first comics to explore her bisexuality and friendship with Harley into the way we have today. Not all jokes land and honestly most of them aged pretty poorly so I'd read with a grain of salt.

📕 RHATO Rebirth¹. - It's an okay comic, good for a good time, but very hard if you like Bruce or rather him being a better father for Jason. It's a bit ooc, also Jason works too much with luck and plot armor. If you just want to read things without strings and like a more gentle Jason it might be the read for you.

Yet.

¹I don't recommend Red Hood and The Outlaws if you like Roy. Don't recommend if you want to understand Roy. Hell, Don't recommend it if you want to understand Jason.

If you want to understand Jason, write Jason and start to read (In a more serious way) his comics I recommend: Under the Red Hood + Red Hood: The Lost days.

📕 Harley Quinn Road Trip Special - Good if you like the Gotham sirens. Very easy read, unfortunately it's also written by a guy who has no idea how gal pal trips works but really really wants to and his reference was the kind of fantasy you find on AO3 at 3 am. Not much explicit though and I am pretty sure it doesn't pass the Bechdel test. But if you ignore the lack of understanding on how women and women friendships work you can have a good time.

Superman.

I love Superman he and I go way back, though I take easy reading his comics, my love for him comes from many places, and a couple of comics are there too.

Superman All Stars.

Beautiful. Beautiful comic. Changed the way I looked to life. Changed the way I used to see him. Changed the way I saw myself too.

I believe this is the kind of comic the less you know about it the more impact you. So it has no explanation here. Nothing other than it's like falling in love with him and meeting an old friend. Like late conversations on a sleep over. Like looking at Clark and Superman as a character with much deeper sight than people believe. Like seeing a side of him that you only get it if you're open to it.

"Like everything he ever represented and resonate with people. Like getting why he's so beloved. Like never coming back."

Marvel

Deadpool.

I'm going to talk about my wife.

This one is going to be divided by The Good (Comic Runs where I believe understand his character the most and have the best story arcs as well as interpretations and background cast) The nasty (Chaotic, so Chaotic) The dirty (No idea what the hell is happening, will make you laugh tough).

The Good

Comics that took his characterization more seriously and have a slightly more linear written stories.

Deadpool (1997)

Deadpool (2008)

Cable & Deadpool (A favorite by far by far) (2004).

Unfortunately recommended reading with a grain of salt it really really is a product of its time.

Deadpool vs Old Man Logan

This Wade tends to be more heartfelt and compelling, he's also ruthless. And way less likeable. The gags and jokes are more plot devices and aspects of his personality rather than his whole stick.

It also explores more heavy topics and if you're not in a good mental state I don't recommend Deadpool (2008). And works with his character from neutral point of view with a look into his morals and actions with way more depth and thought how that impacts himself and others.

The Nasty.

Comics generally after the movie where the joke matters more than the character, it's written by people who want to make him more likeable because his game flopped or had Ryan Reynolds voice in their head while writing it.

Deadpool vs. Hawkeye

Deadpool / Spider-Man.

The rise of living Deadpool.

He's kind of cute in some of this. It's nice for a good laugh. But background characters, characterization? All over the place. Sometimes I can't even look at it.

The Dirty.

Have no fucking idea why the hell would someone write this. This is not my blorbo much less my baby. I still care about him though. Flandarization from Flandarization. Will make you laugh though. Or at least, it's compelling.

Deadpool vs Carnage.

[petertingle-yipyip]

DEVIL ON MY SHOULDER - MATT MURDOCK

seven- only love can hurt like this

tags: @ironprincessstranger @dusstory @americaarse @johnmurphys-sass // six // eight // masterlist

Pairing: Daredevil x Exodus (Matt Murdock x Livia)

Word Count: 9,239

Summary: Nelson and Murdock finally falls, leaving a cracked friendship in its wake. With a new development from Frank Castle, Livia and Matt go to visit an old… adversary.

“Sorry I’m late!” Karen burst through the door in a hurry.

You sighed heavily and pushed yourself up, meeting her by her desk. You waved slightly and took a seat on the edge while she brought Foggy out. He offered you a small, sad smile and you returned the gesture.

“I’m glad you guys are both here. I wanna show you something.” She said quickly, rummaging through her bag. “Matt here too?”

“About Matt…” You trailed off sadly. “Karen, we gotta talk.”

“Let’s all take a long lunch today, hmm? There’s a lot we have to talk about.” Foggy added.

“You guys remember John Doe? One of the falsified reports.” She answered, not really hearing what you and Foggy were saying. “I think I found something.”

“Who’s house you break into this time?” You teased as you came around to Foggy’s other side so you could see better.

“No need.” She smiled slightly. “Just press passes and NYPD files and… Anyway, these pictures are all from the day Frank’s family was killed.”

“I’ve seen enough bloody bodies to last me a lifetime. Can we please just-“ Foggy tried again.

“Hang on. Just let her finish.” You said softly, putting a hand on his arm.

Maybe if Karen really was onto something, you’d have something that could distract you.

“Look at these two pictures. See this guy?” She pointed at one of the photos. “Now look.” She slid the photo to reveal a very similar one, only the body was gone.

Your brows furrowed as you reached for the photos. You flipped back and forth, comparing the two photos. You were hoping it was maybe a clear doctoring but the officers in the background were in different positions. What you did notice was that there had been another body, also removed, but the evidence tag number was only there for one.

“Maybe he was bagged and tagged already.” Foggy reasoned.

“That’s what I thought too but I couldn’t find any death certificates or anything. It’s like he was never there.” Karen continued.

“The evidence tag number is gone, too.” You pointed out, dropping the photos on her desk. “The body next to him is gone too but the little card isn’t. I’m pretty sure those don’t get picked up until the entire scene is cleared. Could be something..”

“What if he’s our John Doe?”

“Just… Let it go.” Foggy said, trying to remain calm though you could tell the topic grated his already sensitive nerves. “The trial is over.”

“But-“ She argued, following behind him and grabbing your wrist to bring you with her. “No. There’s still a conspiracy. This guy could be the key to the cover up!”

“Maybe.” Foggy shrugged. “Somebody else’s problem now.”

You leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms and fixing your eyes on the ground.

“But- Just like that?” She tried desperately. “I- I don’t get it.”

“We’re lawyers and I have bigger things to worry about.”

“Like what? Like.. like getting Nelson and Murdock back on top? This would do that!”

“Just tell her, Foggy.” You sighed, rubbing your tired eyes.

“Tell me what?” She insisted.

“There is no Nelson and Murdock. Look around.” Foggy explained, gesturing to the empty office space.

“Matt told us he doesn’t want to be a part of this anymore.” You said sadly. “He said Foggy should replace him with me or just close the office completely.”

“And you’re going to? What about helping people?”

“What else am I supposed to do?” You lifted your head. “I can’t make him be somewhere or do something he doesn’t wanna do.”

“But he listens to you!”

“Not anymore… When I talk, he just hears her. And I don’t know when that changed.”

Her eyes widened slightly in realization.

“Okay… Okay. You guys all fought at the courthouse a couple times but, you know, you weren’t your best selves. None of us really have been for a long time so-“

“I was my best self that day.” Foggy shrugged before gesturing to you. “Livia was her best at the courthouse, covering for him. And so were you. You’re eerily good at this but Matt has-“

“He’s made his choice.” You shrugged. “He picked what he wants to prioritize and it’s not this firm. It’s not us. I’m sorry, Karen. Trust me. I know how you feel about him but…”

“The woman in his bed…” She turned to you. “The other night when we tried to get him to come back. Is this about her?”

“She knows how to get to him…”

“Okay, whatever.” She shook her head. “Whatever is going on with Matt, whether he’s not willing or not capable of making room for anything else in his life, it’s just right now.”

“You weren’t there… You didn’t hear the conviction in his voice when he told us to leave. I did.” You added.

“I should’ve warned you.” Foggy said kindly to Karen.

“No, you shouldn’t have.” Karen shook her head, though you felt that disappointment. “If Matt doesn’t want to share his life with me, that’s between me and him. The same way your friendship with Matt is between you and him. I don’t need to be warned, Foggy. I just cannot be lied to anymore. All I want is the truth about something.”

“I get it…” Foggy nodded. “I’ll give you a call if something changes but for now, I suggest we all start thinking of a life outside this office.”

“Gimme a second and we can work on that together. Maybe we can still find some closure for Frank..” You nodded at Karen as she backed out of the room. You pushed yourself up and shut the door behind you. “Can I ask you something?”

“How did you know?” Foggy asked instead. “About Matt… You called him Red and he said that Castle started calling him that. I heard you say it before we left.”

“The night at the hospital, when I had to leave because the plumbing… Turns out, I don’t even have an upstairs neighbor. Elektra set it all up. She wanted me and Matt to go to some gala, said she needed someone pretty and someone that can throw a punch… I thought I was the one to fight but, turns out I was mainly the pretty one.”

“Did he know you were gonna be there?”

“I doubt it… I didn’t say anything until we were already there. But the way he moved and fought, he didn’t care. The entire way he handled that night wasn’t very Matt Murdock. From there, the pieces kinda fell into place and everything made sense. He’s yet to actually say the words and I haven’t said anything to him yet but I think he knew I would figure it out.”

“You weren’t supposed to find out like that. He was supposed to tell you himself.”

“I never would’ve found out that way though, would I?”

“Livia, I’m so sorry.”

You shrugged slightly. “I knew he had his secrets. I have mine too so I couldn’t judge him. I can’t even judge him for this but… Foggy, I understand why he never told me. Really, I do. But why do I feel so…”

“Betrayed.” Foggy finished knowingly as he came closer. “Lied to. Because you care about him, even when he doesn’t deserve it. Even when he doesn’t want it. You’ve been there for him in every way you could since we all met… You still love him, don’t you?”

“Only love could hurt like this, I guess.” You shrugged sadly. “I don’t want to feel like this, Foggy.. I don’t want to look at him and see a different person. I- I don’t want everything to change because of a stupid costume. I just want Matt back.”

Foggy was quick to come around from behind the desk and wrap you in a tight hug. That embrace was enough to break every wall you had, allowing every ounce of pain and loss and regret and sadness that you’d been keeping out for weeks crashed into your chest with a force that was enough to buckle your knees. You sunk into his hug and cried quietly, Foggy rubbing your back gently. As you sobbed gently, you realized that it was the first time you could remember crying in front of Foggy. The first time you had shown any sort of vulnerability around him. And that only made you cry more.

Once you managed to pull yourself together, you headed back into the main office. You found Karen was already gone, a text waiting on your phone that told you she went to the Bulletin. You blew out a sigh and told Foggy you’d catch him later before walking out and aimlessly wandered down the street while trying to clear your head. Though nothing was going to be figured out anytime soon.

It was late by the time you got back to your apartment, the sun having gone down while you were out. You were drained by the time you flopped onto your couch. Out of habit - or maybe some twisted sense of desire - you reached for your burner. You checked the calls and found two missed from Matt. You almost smiled when you thought of how he still went to you for help, but it quickly faded as you chopped it up to Elektra being gone.

Ignoring it, you went to sleep. If it was that big of a deal, he would’ve left a voicemail or called more than twice.

All units, suspect Frank Castle, believed to be armed and extremely dangerous.

The words ringing in your brain the next morning made you jolt upright, nearly falling off the couch. You reached for your regular cell phone and found no new messages or calls. You hurried to turn on your TV but there was nothing on the news about it.

Maybe it was a dream. Maybe it was your brain trying to piece together something to make you feel anything other than empty. But would Frank be the ticket item?

Before you could think more on it, your phone rang.

Unknown number.

“Hello?” You answered quickly.

“Miss me, Princess?” Frank replied and you felt every muscle in your body tense.

“You’re insane, yknow that?” You chuckled and shook your head. “And I’m still pissed at you for blowing your trial so this better be good.”

“Yeah, I figured.. Listen, I’ll tell you everything, okay?”

“You’re goddamn right you’re gonna tell me! Because you don’t get to go on some bullshit rant - that not only closed your case but practically blew my firm apart - and expect me to just forget about it and be friends again.”

“I know, Livia. I know, just.. Just gimme a chance to explain, okay?”

You sighed and rubbed your eyes, pushing yourself up to go get ready.

“Cops know you got out.” You said simply. “Heard it on their radios not too long ago… Thought I was hearing things at first but then you called and now it all makes sense.”

“I need you to hear me out.”

“I will… Just not right now. Stay out of sight - somewhere safe - and I’ll meet up with you later tonight.”

“No, it can’t wait that long.” He insisted.

Your phone buzzing in your hand made you pull away and check it, seeing a call from another unknown coming in.

“It’s gonna have to wait a little bit, at least. Something else just came up and I’m betting it has something to do with you. Just hang tight, alright?”

“Alright… Call me back when you can.”

You ended one call and accepted the other.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Yersova?”

“Speaking.” Your brows furrowed.

“We need you to report to the courthouse immediately.”

“May I ask what this is about?”

“DA Reyes has requested the presence of the entire Nelson and Murdock firm. That’s all we can say at this time.”

“Hmm… Okay, I’ll be right there.”

You rushed through a shower and got ready before grabbing a taxi and getting to the courthouse. You were met by a federal agent and led through the crowd until you reached Karen and Foggy.

“Hey. You guys alright?” You asked as you joined them.

“Security is nuts.” Karen commented. “Are you-“ She looked back at you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You just look a little tired, is all..”

“Few rough nights.” You shrugged.

“With Frank Castle on the loose, I wouldn’t expect nights to get any better.” Foggy said as he glanced around, clearly looking for Matt.

“No, it’s too soon, even for Frank.” You shook your head and looked at all the commotion around you. “Something else has to be going on.”

“Guessing that’s what the DA wants to ask us about.”

“Okay but… What if-“ You began, trying to figure out the best way to word it without sounding like you knew something. “What if Matt was right? After the trial, when he said someone got to Frank… What if they did? What if someone helped get him out?”

“But who’d be able to do that in a day?” Karen asked but all you could do was shrug.

“Mr. Nelson, Ms. Page. This way please.” An agent came and ushered your friends away, leaving you on the stairs.

Just in time for Matt to get dropped off.

“Surprised you came.” You commented as he made it to where you were waiting. “After that very moving confession of not needing us anymore.”

“Livia? You alright?” He asked gently.

“No, I’m not. One of my best friends turned his back on me and now…” You sighed and collected your thoughts. “Now, Frank is out and I’m pretty sure Reyes is gonna blame us.”

“But there’s no way you could’ve-“

“What do you know?” You cut in.

“Excuse me?”

“About this.” You stepped closer so you could speak quieter. “About Frank. You have to know something.”

“I don’t.” He answered with a shake of his head.

“Don’t bullshit me right now, Matt. You always know something.”

“Not this time.”

“Ms. Yersova, Mr. Murdock. We’re ready for you.” The same agent that took Foggy and Karen guided you and Matt through security.

Soon, the four of you were being led down the halls to Reyes.

“Livia, Karen.” Matt called. “You two spent the most time with him. He say anything at all that could help us right now?”

You laughed once and shook your head. Matt knew damn well from the conversation you had just moments before that you didn’t know anything, yet he still felt the need to ask.

“Nothing about an escape.” Karen answered for you.

“Here, take a look at these.” Foggy said as he passed you a folder.

“What am I looking at?” You took the folder and flipped it open.

“Castle’s transfer paperwork. It’s not like he was waltzing into some country club. They were burying him in their highest security unit…”

“With all the other heavy hitters on cell block D.” You commented as you glanced through the pages before handing it off to Karen.

“Matt?” You said quietly.

Glancing to the side, you saw his head tilt but no other acknowledgement. “Frank wasn’t in the same block as Fisk, by chance, was he?”

You turned your head, making the gesture look like you were just reading signs on the hall, but you caught Matt’s reaction. His brows furrowed and jaw tightened. You could see the anger begin to seep off him before he cleared his mind.

That was all the answer you needed. And it let you piece together what Frank wanted to talk to you about.

You had to quickly swallow your anger for the time being. You knew the moment you got ahold of Frank, you were going to make it known just how pissed off you were with him.

“О, черт.” You sighed as you were all ushered into the DA’s office. (Oh shit.)

“Cell block D?” Matt asked as you three were left alone.

“Yeah… Why?” You feigned curiosity.

“That mean something to you?” Foggy piped up.

“Yeah, well I like to keep track of people who want to kill us.”

“The fact there’s a list is startling but go on.” You joked and Karen smacked your arm. “Only other person I could think that has it out for us - other than Reyes - is Fisk.”

“Exactly.” Matt nodded.

“Frank blows his trial and ends up on Fisk’s cell block?” Karen repeated.

“And a day later, he’s back on the street.” Matt finished.

“You were right. Someone got to Frank..” You said through your sigh. “Question now is what did Fisk have that Frank would want.”

“Hold on.” Foggy cut in. “Those are two very different dots. You can’t just connect them.”

“Come on, Foggy.” Matt urged. “I’m right. Fisk made this happen.”

“Look at how everything lines up, right.” You spoke up, knowing it would only come across as Matt’s ego talking if he kept going. “We put away Fisk so he has a vendetta against us. The Punisher case is plastered literally everywhere so he had to have heard about it and who else is on the front page? Nelson and Murdock. He has enough money left over to buy a couple guards, so he buys a guard that can get close to Frank. When Frank came into court that day, something was wrong and that guard was off. They end up in the same cell block and now he’s out. And how much you wanna bet I can request some records and find some sort of a trademark Punisher style brawl not dated that much earlier? As much as I hate him right now-“ You pointed to Matt.

“Hurtful.” Matt nodded.

“But warranted.” You countered. “Regardless, there’s some merit to this theory.”

The door opened and your conversation was as quick to halt. As you were ushered into Reyes’ office, her frazzled state jarred you. You had to take a step back because it hit you so suddenly. It was unexpected from a woman who had a stare so hard it could cut diamonds, so cold it could freeze Hell.

Your group took their seats, Karen and Foggy on the ends with you and Matt in the middle. You let out a deep breath and let it serve to blow the buzzing from the air.

“Let’s not bullshit, hmm?” You spoke up, leaning back in the chair and resting your elbows on the armrests. “You brought us here to try and bully privileged information about our client out of us.”

“Yes… if it helps.” She admitted easily.

“It doesn’t.” You smiled sarcastically.

“We have to get Frank Castle off the street before anyone else gets hurt.”

“We?” You scoffed and shifted to lean forward, causing her to lean back. “You think we’re going to help you after the stunts you’ve pulled against my firm?”

“If you want our cooperation, then we need to know what you know.” Matt interrupted.

Though you didn’t appreciate him cutting in, you could see what he was doing. He was thinking as Daredevil, as someone who promised to keep Fisk away and handle the Punisher. So far, Fisk was only physically away but his influence was still reaching. And Frank was right back, calling you like he hadn’t just escaped prison with multiple capital crimes against him.

“Everything.” You added firmly. “Or we don’t even consider it and we walk out that door.”

“I’ve made mistakes.” She said hesitantly.

You rubbed your fingers together and focused on her doubts, hoping to crumble them and leave her more open to talking. You felt her uncertainty wavering, cracking apart until it finally collapsed. You smirked slightly as she continued the story.

“Central Park.. Castle and his family. I screwed up.”

“Frank Castle’s family being gunned down is not a mistake. It’s a massacre.” Karen insisted and you nodded, pointing to her to show you agreed.

“Wait.” Reyes defended. “I swear to God, if I had any idea that people might get hurt, I wouldn’t have done that!”

“That doesn’t matter!” You said firmly. “Because at the end of the day, rather than make things right with Frank, you wanted to put him in the ground to cover your mistake.. You put the DNR to save your career. You don’t get to trade lives!”

You mentally facepalmed as soon as the words left your mouth. You sounded exactly like Daredevil and Matt knew it. He was practically glowing with pride.

“You don’t get to pass your consequences off on someone else because you’re afraid to own up to them.”

“Why am I not surprised your office was part of it?” Foggy said simply.

“They were more than part of it.” Karen said knowingly. You leaned around Matt to hear her better and she looked to you in return. “It was a sting.”

“How do you know that?” Reyes panicked.

You discreetly waved a hand to wipe the tension away and allow the information to keep flowing.

“I’ve gotten really good at digging up shit people like you wanna keep buried.”

“Probably not a good idea to..” Matt leaned over and whispered to Karen.

You watched as Reyes turned around and let her assistant tell the story. You scoffed quietly at how pathetic it was.

“Last year, the DA’s office learned there was a new player in the drug trade. Calls himself the Blacksmith. He wasn’t gonna flood the market, he was gonna be the market.” He explained. You didn’t have to manipulate anything to keep him talking.

“We were tracking kilos but he was dealing in metric tons. Volume like that should’ve made him easy to find but the guy was a ghost. No sign of how he was getting the product into the country, nothing. Then one of the cops we planted deep undercover got word that the Blacksmith was arranging a meet between three unaffiliated gangs.”

“Let me guess. Kitchen Irish, Mexican Cartel, and Dogs of Hell.” You said sarcastically.

“He wanted to broker a deal, set a meet for midafternoon in Central Park. Our guys were there and ready but the sting just went south.”

“Went south?” You laughed bitterly. “Went south is what you say when your drunk uncle starts a fistfight at the family reunion, not when a mother and her two children are gunned down in broad daylight! When you try to murder their father just to keep it quiet!”

“You didn’t clear the park, did you?” Matt challenged.

“I thought about it.” Reyes nodded, as if that would make it okay. “But I decided an empty park could show our hand. So yes… I greenlit the operation, civilian traffic and all.”

“You put innocent kids at risk.” You emphasized.

“Yes, but-“

“There is no but!” You cut in quickly. “You cannot justify something that hurts kids! You could've had officers in positions posing as civilians. Did you even think about that?”

“And then it all oh-so-predictably went to shit.” Foggy continued.

“Blacksmith didn’t show.” She continued and that time you did scoff.

“The gangs got rattled before we could move in and they opened fire on each other… Our undercover was killed and Castle’s family.. Goddamnit.”

“After that horrendous decision, you tried to make it worse. You tried to kill him and ruin us to save your own political ass.” Foggy shook his head in disbelief.

“Maria Castle. Frank Castle Jr. Lisa Castle. Frank Castle. All of them paid a price just to save your pathetic little career in this office.” You said viciously, venom lacing every syllable.

“You know what, lady, you’re on your own.”

“Wait!��� Reyes insisted as you and Foggy began to stand. “This isn’t about me anymore.”

Slowly, you sat back down.

“I found this in my daughter’s backpack before sending her off to school.” Reyes explained and showed Frank’s cranial x-ray.

“Once he gets his sights on a target, he never stops. You know that.”

“So what? You think he’d hurt your daughter?” You asked seriously. You were almost offended that she would insinuate that.

“Where is she?” Matt asked.

“Upstate. Somewhere I can never know about. She’s surrounded by men with guns… Assigned to protect her.”

While you felt sympathy for her in regards to her daughter, you were still irritated since she thought Frank would hurt the girl.

“Frank wouldn’t target your family.” You said simply. “None of you will get this but he’s not heartless, alright? He’s not a monster. He has morals and a- a- a code, I guess, that he operates by. He only hurts people who deserve it.”

“And I’m supposed to trust that?” She scoffed. “What happens if he decides she does?”

“He won’t.”

“Look, I don’t care how much time you spent in an interrogation room with him. He’s coming after my child.”

“You don’t know that!”

“And you do?” She yelled.

“The man lost his own daughter!” You shouted and stood, slamming your hands on her desk. “He knows that kind of pain and grief. You really think he’d want that for anyone else?”

“Didn’t seem to stop him before “ She said, trying to mask her fear with anger.

“What do you want from us?” Matt asked, reaching for your arm but then deciding otherwise. Instead, Foggy reached forward and pulled you back.

“If he contacts you, just let us know.”

“You want us to break privilege?” Foggy asked, clearly insulted.

“I wanna make sure nobody else gets hurt.”

“Only because it’s someone you care about.” You pointed out, scooting forward to the edge of your seat but Foggy and Matt both put arms out to keep you from standing again. “If you weren’t scared for your daughter’s life, we wouldn’t be here. Would we? You’d go on some other crusade to take him down with another shoot to kill in place. And it’s funny that you didn’t mention or take responsibility for the DNR you ordered. You can’t even say their names…”

“I know what I’ve done here but…” Reyes began again but Matt grabbing your forearm distracted you.

He leaned over to speak quietly and you leaned into him to hear him.

“Get down.” He muttered.

You were quick to move to your side and take Foggy down with you while Matt dove to cover Karen. You kept your friend down until the bullets stopped then you slowly got yourself up. The only problem was that when you leaned your weight on your right arm, your arm collapsed and you fell back on the floor.

Frank was right. You don’t hear the ones that get you.

You rolled to your back and glanced down, seeing a bloody line carved into your shoulder and a red soaked bullet on the ground. You cursed softly and scooted up to lean against the wall. You clamped a hand over your wound and dropped your head against the wall, clenching your jaw tightly to keep the groans of pain quiet.

“Foggy.” You managed and tried to reach for him, though moving the arm with the bullet caused you to cry out loud. “Foggy. Foggy, Foggy, Foggy.” You repeated quietly as he knelt by your side.

“I need you to-“ You winced. “I need you to tear the sleeve off, okay? And I need you to tie it so the knot is- Ah! So the knot is over this.”

“Livia, I can’t..” He tried but you shook your head quickly with your eyes closed.

“I need you to do this.” You whined. “Please.”

“I-“ He sighed and you felt his hands grip your sleeve. “Ready?”

“Just do it.”

You cried out as he pulled the sleeve and it ripped free from your shirt. You bit your bottom lip as he maneuvered your arm and tied the sleeve, squeezing the wound with the knot.

“Я убью Фрэнка, если он это сделает, клянусь Богом!” You muttered through heavy breathes as Matt came over to help you to your feet once he knew Karen was out safely. (I’m gonna kill Frank if he did this, I swear to God!)

Matt held you up as you all were ushered out of the courthouse. You were glad you had Foggy tie it off when you did, otherwise the blood loss would’ve been more catastrophic. Your footing slipped every now and then, but Matt was right there with arm around your waist to catch you.

EMTs were quick to the scene and rushed to check you out. They explained things you already knew. It was a clean shot, in and out. There was no bone damage but the muscle damage was deep, cutting right through your deltoid muscle and narrowly missing the bone of your upper arm. They recommended stitches but you adamantly refused, not wanting to waste anytime getting to Frank. Hesitantly, they told you to avoid strenuous lifting and movements for a few weeks. They cleaned and dressed the wound instead while they offered to take you to a hospital of your choice just to check and offered a few treatments but you refused.

You had to find Frank before the cops did.

“How do you feel?” Matt asked after the EMTs left you.

“I’m angry.” You said honestly, feeling the heat of your anger pulsing in your new wound. “But I don’t think this was Frank. He wouldn’t do that so recklessly when the four of us were in the way.”

“The man just shot you.” Matt scoffed.

“No, he didn’t. He wouldn’t hurt me!”

“Why do you still defend him?” He tried to walk away but you hurried to follow him.

“Why did you always defend Exodus?” You shrugged your good shoulder.

“They’re not the same.”

You thought about how that was a blatant contradiction to what he told Elektra, that all three of you were the same. But you knew better than to make a big deal about. However, it didn’t stop you from pointing it out casually.

“Maybe, maybe not, but that’s not what you told Elektra.”

That earned you a scowl.

“Point is, you saw something good in her at the beginning. You believed in her at one point, right? Well I believe in Frank. He’s not a bad guy, just been through so much trauma and grief and pain. Everyone has failed him but no one wants to make that right. No one wants to fight for him!”

“So what?” He urged. “You gonna pick up a gun and go shoot down people that piss you off, too?”

“Frank Castle isn’t the Punisher by default and no one understands that! Reyes created the Punisher through her own selfish decision. Why don’t you believe there’s some merit to him?”

“Why do you?” He stopped and grabbed your hand to stop you. You felt the heavy pulse of his next question roll through you. “Honestly. Why do you care, Livia? Do you.. have feelings for him?” He finished carefully, as if he was afraid to hear the answer.

“No.” You laughed slightly. “I’ve only loved three men in my life and Frank Castle is not one of them.”

He let out a small breath of relief.

“I just know what it’s like to be so full of rage and pain and grief and not know what to do with it. He knows where to direct it and all he wants to do is hurt the people who hurt him.”

“That’s not justice, Livia. It’s vengeance.”

“Sometimes they’re not so different.” You shrugged, which made his jaw drop slightly and his brows furrowed.

“What I’m trying to say is that he’s still a man. He’s a husband and a father. He’s strong in his beliefs and he’s honest. Everyone wants to criminalize him. I know he acts like some idiot with a gun and he’s supposed to be treated like a lost cause and even by the Devil’s rules, he’s a villain. I know what everyone believes and I know what I’m supposed to say but I just don’t see it.”

“I don’t get it.” He said softly. “How can you see so much good in him?”

You shrugged.

“He’s protective and he cares about people. He reminds me of someone else that I kinda know.”

“Don’t say Daredevil.” He scowled and you cracked a small smile.

“In some ways, he does.” You said honestly.

You hadn’t even realized it until your latest rant but it was true. Frank wasn’t all that different from Daredevil. The biggest and most obvious difference was the blood on their hands, or lack thereof. But the similarities were more noticeable now.

They both were protective of you while respecting you completely. They didn’t want you to get hurt but they both knew you could handle yourself. They stood strong in their beliefs, refusing to back down against anyone, and they weren’t afraid to take responsibility for what they did. They weren’t afraid to challenge you either.

At the basest level, the deepest core level of their activities, they were practically the same.

“I need to find him, Matt. I know you can help me.” You admitted.

“Why?” He asked simply.

“Because I want to ask if he shot me. I want to know why he worked with Fisk… And I want to hear it from him.”

Matt waited there for a moment, processing your words. You could tell he wanted to do this alone. He didn’t want you tagging along so you didn’t get hurt. But he also liked that you were going to him for help. He liked the idea of chasing a lead together outside the masks.

“Alright, come on.” He jerked his head for you to follow. “I know where to start.”

“I need a new shirt first.”

You two ended up at the prison after a quick detour to your apartment. It was easy enough to get in to see Fisk, though his own lawyer seemed to hover. He shoved affidavits into each of your hands and Matt signed his easily. You hung back and read it over while Matt was led in to talk to him. You leaned against the wall and tapped your pen against the paper in thought.

“Kinda extensive, huh?” A man asked as he came to your side.

“Yeah.” You laughed slightly. “Makes you wonder who’s really in charge around here…”

“I hate coming to deal with this guy.” He shook his head. “But everyone’s gotta draw the short stick every now and then.”

“You from his legal team?”

“God no.” He laughed. “FBI. You?”

You hummed and turned to face him.

“Part of the firm that got him locked up in the first place.” You smiled.

“Really? I am impressed.” He smiled slightly. “Harvard? No. Princeton?”

“Columbia.”

He clicked his tongue in disappointment. “That was my next guess.”

You laughed.

“So what brings you in?” He asked casually. There was a bit of suspicion in his voice but nothing that you couldn’t talk around, likely just part of his job.

“I got shot earlier and the prime suspect is a guy I think Fisk helped get out. Came to find out what he knows.”

“You got shot and the first thing you do is come pick a fight at a prison?”

“Pretty much.” You shrugged your good shoulder. “Why? Is that not the normal response?”

“You’re one tough cookie, aren’t you?” He smiled lazily.

“Oh yeah.” You nodded and gestured to yourself. “I’m a regular badass.”

“I bet.. I’m Dex, by the way.” He held a hand out for you to shake.

“You always introduce yourself with a nickname?” Your brows lifted as you shook his hand. “Alivia.”

He rolled his eyes in amusement. “Ben Poindexter. That better?”

“Very.” You nodded with a grin. “Think I can get away with signing a fake name?” You shook the papers from Fisk’s lawyer.

“Something tells me you can get away with a lot more than that.” He chuckled.

“Ms. Yersova.” His lawyer came to ask. “Have you signed it?”

You glanced between the man and your new friend before pushing off the wall. You shot Dex a quick wink and handed the papers back to Fisk’s lawyer. He skimmed them and scowled when he saw no signature.

“You don’t care about the affidavit.” You said convincingly, waving your hand to dismiss his intent. “You’re not worried about me or what I came for. Fisk is more than happy to talk to me.”

“I think it’ll be fine, just this once.” He nodded before going back, you assumed for Matt.

“Okay.” Dex came to your side with a chuckle. “Now I’m impressed. You ever get bored of this legal stuff, I bet you’d be great at the FBI.”

“Yeah?” You turned to face him.

“Yeah. Something tells me you’d make a kickass special agent.”

“Y’know, that may not be a terrible idea…”

“Here’s my number if you ever wanna try it.” He smiled and handed you a card.

“You just keep these on hand?” You laughed and tucked the card into your pocket.

“It works, doesn’t it?” He defended with a chuckle. Someone called for Dex so he offered a quick apology before taking off. You decided you needed to make a quick call so you weren’t walking in with nothing.

You stared at the contacts in your phone, two numbers shining back at you.

moon man<3

even steven<3

One number would lead you to the man you needed. The other would take you to someone who had no idea. You knew who you should call first, but you found yourself wanting to talk to them both. You let out a small sigh and clicked one at random, letting fate decide who you would talk to first.

“Hello?” He said carefully, a clear accent in his voice.

“Hi Steven.” You said softly. “How are you?”

“Alivia…” He breathed. “Hi.”

You chuckled gently. “Hi.”

“I- Uh. How- How have you been?”

You took a second and thought, drumming your fingers against your lips before answering.

“I’m doing okay.. You?”

“No you’re not.”

“What?”

“That little pause.” He noted. “You do that when you wanna keep something to yourself.”

“Almost forgot how attentive you are.” You smiled to yourself. It was different compared to the way Daredevil was attentive and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss it. “I’m struggling a little bit but I’ll figure it out.. I always do.”

“You don’t have to do it alone.. You could always come back. I don’t even really know why you left..”

“To take my Bar exam.” You nodded, leaning against the wall and chipping at the paint slightly. “I told you that.”

“Yeah.. But you didn’t say you weren’t coming back.”

You sighed and closed your eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry, Steven. I never wanted to hurt you. Staying in New York was never the plan. You and M- … You were one of the very few ‘what if’s I wanted to come back to.”

“You still can.” He said softly, so gently that you barely heard him.

“I can’t.”

“Alivia…”

“I’m so sorry…” You sighed. “There‘s too much going on to just up and leave now.”

“I never stopped loving you. I’ve thought about you almost everyday.” He spoke quickly, as if there was a timer ticking down on your conversation and he wouldn’t get another chance to tell you that.

“I don’t deser-“

“Don’t do that.” He cut in quickly. “Don’t even try that. You deserve everything good, Love.”

“I’ve missed you.” You laughed sadly.

“Wait. Why did you call?”

“I don’t know… I just wanted to talk to you, I guess.”

“You’re a terrible liar, yknow that?” He chuckled sadly.

“So I’ve been told.. I’ve gotta go, okay?”

“Right, well, don’t be a stranger then. Laters, gators.”

You ended the call and held the phone against your chin. You felt the tears welling in your eyes and you hadn’t realized just how much you had missed him. Leaning your head against the wall behind you, you closed your eyes and sighed inwardly. As innocent as the conversation with Steven had been, you needed Marc.

You pushed yourself up and were using your phone as a mirror to check your eyes when you received a call back.

moon man<3

You cleared your throat and buried your sadness as you answered.

“What kind of trouble are you in now?” He said quickly, though any hint of an accent was now gone.

“Nice to hear from you too, Marc.” You rolled your eyes slightly.

“Cut the shit, Liv. Where are you? I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

You could hear things rustling around in the background, and you figured he was hurrying to pack a bag and gather together whatever he thought he would need. It was nice to know he still cared.

“I’m not in trouble.”

“Liv.” He said firmly.

“Marc.” You mocked his tone.

“Seriously?” He scoffed.

“I promise I’m not in trouble.. But I do need your help. I just need you to help me find someone.”

“That’s all you need?”

“Yes.” You chuckled.

“Okay.. But you gotta answer one question.”

“Go ahead.”

“Why didn’t you come back?”

You sighed. “They found me. There were at least three of them and one of them might’ve been Yelena… I had to get them away from you but I wasn’t going to go after my cousin so I left.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“If I came back covered in blood, how do I explain that?”

Silence.

“I didn’t know if I would come back to you or Steven, but I knew the best way to keep you both safe was to leave. I came back to New York and took my Bar Exam. That wasn’t a lie. Like I told Steven, I didn’t plan on staying here.”

“So why did you?”

“Things got crazy and then Matt-“

“Matt?” He scoffed. “Your ex-boyfriend from college?”

“We never dated.” You corrected.

“Sorry. Should I have said ‘your first love from college’?”

“Are you done?”

“You seriously stayed for Matt, the guy you said picked some other girl over you, when you had me? And Steven?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Then what else kept you there?”

“Y’know, when I’m not talking to you from inside a prison, I’ll gladly answer that.”

“Goddammit, Liv.” He sighed.

Silence passed over the conversation for a second.

“You ever get the envelopes?” He asked instead.

“Yeah… You’re talking to a fully licensed lawyer.”

“That’s my girl.” You could hear the smirk in his voice. “And I heard about your case, that guy Frank Castle. Hell of an ending.”

“Ha ha.” You said sarcastically. “Can I ask you something now?”

“Yeah.”

The memory flashed in your mind, laying on your back in some abandoned temple. Sand sticking to your body and your blood pooling around you. There was a voice, deep and rumbling and taunting as it tried to get you or Marc to agree. You remembered seeing Marc stand and then you woke up in bed and you almost convinced yourself it was just a dream.

“That night in Egypt, when we both almost died… How did I get out?”

“That’s when I started with Khonshu, remember?”

“Yeah but how did that help me? I remember seeing you get up and the suit but after that… Next thing I know, I woke up in the safe house.”

“I told him I wasn’t leaving you… He showed me that there’s certain instances where the healing from the suit can be used on someone else. Haven’t been able to do it since though. Guess it hasn’t mattered as much as it did with you.”

“You saved me…” You smiled softly.

“Cause I loved you.” He said simply, as if it was obvious.

It was your turn to be quiet for a minute as you thought about the past tense of the word. It stung a bit when compared to Steven’s confession just moments ago.l, but you recognized it was selfish to assume Marc would hold out feelings for you.

“I planned on coming back after my exam. You were the person I wanted to be with when everything came in. I just figured it was safer if I stayed away for a while longer and then I got caught up here…”

“I could’ve handled it.”

“Maybe… But I can’t change what I did. I can just say I’m sorry, which truly I am. You’re the only other ‘what if’ I wanted to chase… I’m not asking you to forgive what I did. I just need you to try and find someone for me, Marc.”

“Yeah, okay.. Give me a name and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Vanessa Marianna. She’s really into art but is probably gonna be somewhere around Europe without extradition. She’s also probably moving around a lot, high security.”

He chuckled. “She a contract for you?”

“I don’t take contracts anymore.. I’m working a case and I need leverage against someone to get information.”

“Just use your little tasers. That usually works.” He joked.

“Oh yeah.” You smiled. “I’ll walk into a courtroom with those and see how far I get.”

“Y’know, I’m proud of you, Livs.” He said softly. “I really am.”

“Thanks, Marc… That means a lot.”

“I’ll see what I can find, alright? And if you’re ever in London again…”

“You’ll be the first person I visit. I promise.”

“Talk soon.” He chuckled.

“Bye.”

You turned back to see Fisk’s lawyer guiding Matt out and you could see the blood on his teeth. You shoved your phone away and hurried to him, tilting his head up and to the side as you checked on him. He gently

pushed your hands away, which was a good thing given how hot they were already getting.

“Let’s go.” Matt told you and you could tell his pride was a bit bruised.

“No, I’m going in there.” You said angrily, trying to push past him but an arm came across your chest. “Don’t do this here.”

“Let’s go.”

“No.”

“Woah, woah.” You heard the familiar voice at your side and you smiled to yourself. “Let the lady go and let’s talk about this.”

“I need to talk to Fisk.” You said simply. “He’s in my way.”

“You won’t get anything out of him.” Matt reasoned.

“I can be very convincing.”

“Livia, come on.”

“Don’t worry about it, man.” Dex stepped in, patting Matt’s arm while you pushed him away slightly. “I’ll go with her. Nothing’s gonna happen.”

“If Fisk touches her, I swear to God.”

“Scout’s honor, buddy. Nothing she can’t handle, right?”Dex nodded and gestured for you to go ahead.

You waved your hands at the guards, watching white haze cover their eyes as you cleared every feeling they had. They had no loyalty, no sense of purpose. No anger or worry or even interest. They were simply bodies at that point, though you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

You entered the small interrogation room and set your shoulders back as you got close to Fisk. You glanced back and found Dex nodding, gesturing that he’d wait for you in the hall.

“I knew our paths would cross again, though this isn’t how I imagined it.” Fisk said as you reached the table. “How’s business nowadays?”

“Why let Castle out?” You asked simply, pressing your hot palms against the cold table.

“Yes, I heard you were involved with Mr. Castle. The question is if you are involved in all aspects of his endeavors?”

“What do you gain by helping the Punisher?”

“I did no such thing.”

“Bullshit. You two ended up in the same cell block. You telling me that was an accident?”

“Must’ve been. It’s rather interesting the way fate has brought you to Castle, brought Castle to me, and now… It’s has brought you back to me.”

“What about the way no guards stepped in when you beat the shit out of Murdock just now?”

“The guards must’ve-“

You slammed a fist down onto the table, making Fisk flinch just the smallest bit.

“You can talk anyone else in circles but not me. I know your games and they’re pathetic. What. Did you want. Castle for?”

“Nothing…”

“Oh, man.” You stood tall and sighed. “I don’t know what Vanessa saw in you… But I guess I can ask her when I find her.”

“What did you say?” His anger finally sparked.

“I have eyes everywhere, big guy. But I bet you knew that. I have people in every country looking for her, but you were probably counting on that since you have her moving every so often. I’ve taken it upon myself and blasted her name, photo, and basic information to all of my contacts so it’s only a matter of time before she’s found… Do you wanna know what I’ll do to her when I find her?”

“You don’t hurt women.” He tried but his uncertainty only pushed your taunting further. “You protect them.”

“Maybe I’ve changed.” You shrugged. “But I’m sure Matt has already talked about Vanessa, pulling her Visa and all that legal stuff, right?”

Silence.

“You know what the Punisher has done. I guess you’d have to if he caught your attention. His work is gonna look like a children’s cartoon when I’m done with her. Her own mother won’t be able to recognize her… I’d recommend a closed casket.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Maybe letting out the one man who’s just as lethal as I am wasn’t the best idea, was it? Who's gonna stop me, hm? Unless you got Castle on your payroll somehow.”

His jaw clenched but he said nothing.

“Then I guess I’ll have to beat it out of you via Vanessa.”

He stood suddenly and grabbed your shirt front with one hand and locked the other around your throat. You smiled wickedly and grabbed onto his wrist. Your hands grew hot with a fierce heat that you pushed forward and he winced as you locked your fingers together. You hopped up, angling your feet against the edge of the table, before kicking off and tucking your knees so you would fall backwards. His face slammed the table and he dropped his hold, making you hit the concrete ground roughly. You rolled to your back and spun so your feet were at the table again, but when you kicked off, you pushed the table into his stomach and pushed yourself through a tumble. The impact worked in shoving him back into his chair so you stood proudly, rubbing your aching shoulder and feeling your sleeve grow damp with the blood of a reopened wound.

“You think you have power? You think you’re earning anything back?” You laughed as Fisk looked to the door you came in from. “Let me show you power.”

You shot your hand towards the door and closed your fist, picturing you were grabbing the controls of the guards. You twisted your hand over, raising their interest and concerns. Only they weren’t worried or interested in what you would do to Fisk. You made them worried about you.

You felt Fisk begin to panic as the guards turned towards the room and leaned in closely to watch. You flattened both palms again and leaned in. He reared back and threw a fist at you, his broad hand slamming into your jaw and causing a small pop to sound at the joint.

You couldn’t hide the manic laughter as you pressed the other side of your jaw and felt the grinding of your bones back into place.

“You can think you’re in charge here but you need to remember that I can dismantle everything you build.” You smiled wickedly as he slammed your face against the steel table.

“You’re weak.” You spat before you slammed your face again to prove a point.

“You’re insane!” He yelled.

“No, I just play this game better.”

“I should’ve killed you in that alley!”

“But you didn’t!” You shouted before another slam.

One final slam gave you the crack you were hoping to hear. You stood straight and smiled, knowing how unsettling the image would be as the blood poured down your face before you took a couple steps back and feigned panic.

“Help! Help, he broke my nose!” You cried and lifted your hands towards your cheeks shakily. “Please!”

Dex and two guards burst in quickly, slamming Fisk against the table. You leaned over and braced yourself against your knees as you taunted him one last time.

“Why let Castle out? Distraction from what you’re doing here? Or you just need him to do your dirty work?” You asked and he growled at you in answer.

“Second one it is.” You nodded and stood up. “You want him to clear the way so you can get back to the top with as few obstacles as possible. You can hope and plan to get out of this place… But just know, the minute you think you’re safe in your little penthouse, I will find you. And you will regret ever having contacted me in the first place.”

You locked your fingers and placed the heels of your hands against either side of your nose as guards hauled Fisk away. You yanked the cartilage back into place with a groan as Dex came to check on you.

“You really are crazy, aren’t you?” He asked as he gestured to your now bloody face.

“Still think I’d be good for the FBI?” You teased and wiped your sleeve across your face.

“You’d be one hell of a partner.” He chuckled and led you back to Matt.

“It was nice to meet you!” You called over your shoulder as you and Matt were leaving.

“See you ‘round, Alivia.” Dex saluted and you had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time you’d see him.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Matt scolded as he dragged you out of the prison and into the cab that waited for you two.

“What now?” You groaned, using the cuff of your sleeve and your phone’s camera to try and clean the blood off your face.

“You instigated him into putting hands on you.”

“Didn’t you do the same thing?”

“No.”

“The blood still on your teeth says otherwise.” You answered in a singsong voice. “You can’t stand on the high ground when you did the same thing.”

“Difference is, I can handle it.”

“And you think I can’t?”

“Livia, he broke your nose.” Matt scolded and you scoffed.

“I broke my own nose.”

“Excuse me?”

“I broke my own nose.” You repeated. “He wasn’t gonna hit me hard enough so I did it myself.”

“Why would you- Oh my god!”

“I needed to prove a point. I proved it. Can we move on? I don’t need you to protect me from everything, Matt. You have to understand that.”

“I know.” He sighed, though you knew he didn’t mean it. He knew you weren’t helpless but he didn’t think you could take the bigger, more dangerous situations. “I just-“

“I’m not helpless. I appreciate your concern and I love you for it. But I need you to trust me a little bit more than you do now.”

“I love you too. Livia… And I do trust you.”

[happy-pencil]

**For Readers 18+ 😊

You tried so hard to keep the noise down.

And things weren’t suppose to end up like this.

It all started when you were put on the same team as last year’s Beans Day event. Things having stayed the same since last year, you tried finding Cater and Jade to team up. Much to your disappointment, you weren’t able to find the two of them. You did however end up finding Floyd in the deep neck of the woods sleeping in a tree away from the other students.

You called out to Floyd, hoping that he’s at least seen his brother around the area. The only response he gave you was a disgruntled huff in annoyance before he told you to leave him alone.

Before you both knew it, you both were being ambushed by the opposing team -who were watching you and Floyd bicker previously. Luckily, you ended up fleeing the area before the Monster Team could make their move- with a now very annoyed and angry Floyd following behind.

Floyd, as usual, wasn’t in the mood to play these games hence why he was sleeping in the tree to begin with. He would obviously love to get the chance to play with the other guppies and smaller fish but he knew that they wouldn’t stand a chance to him or his brother. There was no real competition to this silly game even if the opposing team had more of a chance to win.

This bummed Floyd out to no end.

And what bummed him out more is that he was put on the same team as last year’s game.

However it seemed that this year would be a little different now that his Koebi-Chan has seemingly decided to team up with him to his amusement. At least they were always fun to hang around with.

But right now he was moodier than ever.

“Koebi-Chan, why are you so adamant on winning this year’s game? If anything, it’ll be like last year’s game...” Floyd asked and gave a frustrated sigh in disapproval of your previous actions.

You had to stop walking and turn to face Floyd behind you, who was looking down at you with annoyance and curiosity. Calmly, you told him that you had a plan to beat the Monster Team but had to find Jade and Cater to have them execute the plan. Floyd argued again that it was going to be futile and the same thing will happen just like last year. And so, you both then started to bicker back and forth with each other.

What then started as bickering turned into playful bantering -to a now heated and steaming session underneath a tree with the tall second year.

One thing lead to another and now you were underneath Floyd -getting pounded to oblivion by his massive cock. Every thrust of his length sinking deeper and deeper into your hole to the point where you were seeing stars beyond that of the cosmos.

You want to cry, sob even from the amount of pleasure Floyd was giving you. But any sound you produced had his hand covered around your mouth, keeping you muted from anyone that could’ve been within hearing distance.

Floyd let out a quiet , child-like giggle which only could’ve been heard by the both of you. 

“Koebi-Chan~ You have to keep it down~ The other fishes are gonna hear you from here...~”

His warm, hushed whispers ghosted your ears as the sound of wet skin frantically slaps against your exposed area. Your face flushes a deep red from the sensitivity of his voice and hid your face between the crook of Floyd’s neck. Whimpering and moaning quietly only for him to hear.

Floyd takes this as an opportunity for him to go faster. Without hesitation, he hurriedly took out his cock and flipped your body over. Your face was now pressed against his soft Beans Day Uniform placed underneath you. Your ass on the other hand was in the air, full and plump, giving Floyd a lustful view of your behind.

Without a second thought, Floyd took his girthy dick and aligns it to your wet hole before slamming all of him back in. A loud moan gurgled at the back of his throat as he started to go at a pace even faster than when he fucked you before. You laid underneath Floyd helpless and needy for more.

You were trying so damn hard to not moan as loudly as Floyd.

But anyone within 100 feet would’ve been damn sure to have heard the sinful intimacy between the both of you.

The fucking hypocrite.

It was when you accidently yelped out a loud cry did Floyd smacked your ass hard enough to leave red handprints.

You tensed up from the pain of the slap and sharply turned your head as much as you could behind you to face Floyd. He stares you down cheekily as he rubs the exposed red area where he has slapped. 

His other hand pushed your head down to his jacket to muffle any sounds you were making. His other hand takes a hold of your arm and pulls it back for leverage as he thrusts in you at an deeper angle with thoughts of needing more. Having you beg for more.

Your face contorts into ecstasy as you whimper into Floyd’s jacket to go harder. He chuckles into the air as he looks at you taking in his member. 

“Hehe~ Koebi-Chan makes the cutest faces when they take my cock in just like this~”

He then takes both of his hands and places them on both sides of your hips. He readjusts his stance before he starts to pounder even harder than a few moments prior. Gritting your teeth, you take in the waves of pleasure Floyd is giving you. 

“Ne~ Koebi-chan~ I think I’m gonna- Fuck-”

He moans loudly as he shakily lets out a breath. 

That’s sure to have alarmed someone that was within the area. 

“I think I’m gonna -fill you all up~ Doesn’t that sound nice?~”

You moaned in response to his question. Floyd huffs in annoyance as he takes his hand and shoves it down onto your head once again to mute your sounds of ecstasy. 

“And that’s exactly what I’m gonna do...so you better be prepared ♡ ~”

You felt your body then being lifted off from the ground by Floyd’s strength as you felt your back being pressed against his chest. Your legs being gripped by Floyd’s hands as he realigns his cock to brutally fuck any sense or thought out of you. 

It didn’t take long for your legs to start spasming. You let out a few whimpers of pleasure-begging for more from the merman before you unraveled against his chest. Your fluids gushing out of you and onto Floyd. Floyd followed suit as he places his mouth against your neck in an attempt to keep quiet. His razor like teeth biting gently enough to graze your skin to let out a harsh whimper. Floyd’s movements then start to gradually slow down as thick sperm spilled inside of you. 

Coming down from his and your high, Floyd gently lays your body onto his jacket before he crashes right down beside your naked body. Dazed, and out of breath, you turned your body to face Floyd to make sure he didn’t pass out from the gratifying session.

To your relief, Floyd calmly looks up at you with flushed cheeks and a small smile on his face -panting from the sexual encounter both of you partaken in. It was rare for you to see Floyd look so at peace. Dare you’d say he looked so ‘in love’ with the dopey sided grin he was giving you.

However, that peace was shattered.

Smirking, Floyd grabs hold of your body with one arm and pulls you close against his chest. His other hand slowly gliding its way down to your stomach to play with your now drenched hole oozing with his love. You gasped from the sudden pleasure he was giving you and whined from the overstimulation.

Floyd giggles sadisticly and hugs you with his arm. This causes you to look up at the boy with confusion. He simply smiled that damned innocent smile.

“Eh? I don’t wanna stop playing with Koebi-Chan. You make funny faces and silly noises when I touch you like this!”

He presses his fingers to your lower half and plays with your genitalia. You grit yourself teeth in the process and tried to free yourself from his grasps. This causes him to squeeze you even tighter. He brings his mouth to your neck and quietly mutters promises only for you to hear.

“Hey~ Since this stupid game is taking forever to play, I can just play with you instead! But I don’t want a~ny little fishies to hear my Koebi-Chan moaning like a slut! ”

His soft expression quickly turns intimidating and aggressive.

“So be a good little Koebi-Chan and stay quiet.”

Oh my.

This would be something you’d remember for a lifetime.

:)

[ravennm84]

Of Moldy Bread and Cockroaches

I’ve seen a few fics where Lila reports the bakery to the health department and then plants bad pastries and pests just as the inspector arrives and gets the bakery shut down. I started wondering, what would happen if she got caught doing that? Warm-Fuzzies and please enjoy!!

Lila kept watch as she waited for the health inspector to finally arrive. She had made multiple fake reports about the bakery over the past week to get someone to come out, but no one had come yet. And she had found the perfect spot to make sure she saw the man arrive, too! She was in disguise in the park, on a bench that had a clear view of the bakery entrance, the side entrance that went to the Dupain-Cheng home, and still let her stay hidden. She didn’t have to worry about school at the moment since her stupid class and teacher thought she was visiting the royal family in Spain, and her gullible mother thought school was out for another akuma attack. Both of which gave her an alibi so no one would suspect her when Maribrat and her goody-goody parents were humiliated and lose everything.

She was almost too distracted by her daydream of Marinette crying and homeless to see a very professional looking man step out of a taxi in front of the bakery. He looked at the display with a very critical eye before writing some things down on his tablet. That had to be the health inspector she had been waiting for. Once she saw him entering the front, Lila hot footed it to the side entrance to sneak in. 

The door was locked, but she had come prepared with a lockpick set she had gotten a couple years ago. It was really too easy to get inside. In fact, it had been much harder to get the fake evidence she would need to shut the place down. She discovered while going through the dumpster for old pastries that the bakery didn’t throw away much of anything. They sold out most of the time, and the things that didn’t were donated to a local homeless shelter. It took three days of dumpster diving to find anything, which ended up being a single batch of croissants that had burned in the oven. Heck, collecting some cockroaches from a restaurant dumpster down the street had been easier; albet, a lot more disgusting.

Once inside, Lila crept towards the door as she heard Mme. Cheng speaking to the man. He was, in fact, the health inspector. A malicious grin stretched across her face as she put the first moldy croissant on the counter next to the-

“What are you doing here?” A deep voice growled behind her.

Lila froze for a moment, suddenly realizing that she had heard Mme. Cheng speaking with the inspector, but not M. Dupain. She couldn’t let herself get caught! She was facing away from him and he hadn’t seen her face yet, so there was still a chance. Grabbing the first thing she could, she didn’t even look to see what it was, she swung it around at the towering man before trying to run past him. 

Despite hearing him curse in pain, Lila didn’t make it two steps before the man grabbed her by the collar of her jacket and lifted her off of the ground. She swung her object at him again, only for the enraged man to grab her wrist and twist, forcing her to drop it with a shout as it clanged to the floor. 

The noise drew Sabine and the inspector to the back where they say Tom holding Lila off the ground. Furious and still trying to escape, she tried kicking at him only for him to release her wrist, grab her ankle, and then release her jacket so she was hanging upside down. More items hit the floor as her hat fell off, a couple of croissants and the tupperware container of cockroaches fell from her pockets, and landed next to a bloody knife…

Uh-oh.

Looking up, she saw that his right arm was bleeding from where she had slashed him with the knife, which had her fingerprints all over it. She was going to be in so much trouble unless she could think of a way out of this!

“What happened, Tom?” Sabine asked, worried when she saw her husband’s bleeding arm and was slightly confused by the girl hanging upside-down in their kitchen. It took a moment before she seemed to recognize Lila as the girl that had gotten her daughter expelled a few weeks before.

“I was coming down to meet Inspector LaStare with you and caught this girl putting bad pastries with the others.” 

“That’s not it!” Lila yelled in a panic and she wiggled in his grip, resembling a fish on a hook. “I-I-I was- I was getting rid of them! I was taking them off the counter to throw them away!”

“And your container of cockroaches?” Asked Sabine, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring dubiously at the girl.

“Those aren’t mine! I swear! If you would just let me explain-”

“I’ve already heard enough to recognize your voice, young lady,” the inspector snapped as he stepped closer to glare at Lila. “I bet you weren’t paying attention when you called the health department all those times and the recording told you that your call would be monitored and recorded. And when a single business gets over twenty complaints in less than a week, it gets some attention. But when we listen to the recordings and hear the same voice for every message, we figure it’s someone with a vendetta against the establishment. Still, we do our do-diligence and inspect the establishment, but I had no idea how stupid a person would be to attempt to plant fake evidence while I was here, in full view of the security cameras.”

She couldn’t help her surprised gasp as she, while still hanging upside down in the hulking baker’s grip, looked around the kitchen ceiling until her eyes landed on the cameras. One pointed at the side door she had picked open and the other pointed at the counter where she had put the moldy pastry.

Sabine leaned in close, glaring straight into Lila’s upside-down eyes. “Young lady, what is your mother’s phone number?” It was clear that it was more of a demand than a question, but she was still trying to think of a way out of trouble before Sabine grabbed her face and forced Lila to look at her. “You can either tell me her number now, or you can tell the police so she can go pick you up at the station while they tell her all the crimes you’re being charged with.”

Angry at being caught and forced to call her mother, Lila thought of what she could do as she tried to look and sound pitiful as she recited her mother’s number. Not difficult since she was red-faced from hanging upside-down for so long. She might not be able to get out of trouble, but she’d be damned if they didn’t pay for humiliating her.

After Sabine stepped into the front of the bakery to make the call, Lila tearfully looked up at Tom. “Can you please put me down? I’m getting really dizzy.”

She could tell that the man was tempted to drop her on her head, but he was too much of a goody-goody like his daughter and he eased her gently to the floor. As soon as he let go of her ankle, Lila’s uninjured hand snapped out and grabbed the tupperware of cockroaches, ripped off the lid, and flung the insects across the floor. 

Tom and Inspector LaStare yelled in surprise and disgust as Lila attempted to escape, this time running for the front of the bakery. She actually made it out of the kitchen, but ended up face to face with Sabine. Without a word, the woman grabbed Lila’s by the arm, flipped her over her shoulder to the floor, and twisted her arm to where she couldn’t move.

“Are you okay, Tom?” Sabine called, her voice eerily calm to Lila’s ears.

“She flung those cockroaches across the kitchen! They’re everywhere!” Tom yelled as he and the inspector scrambled to try and kill or capture the insects.

“I’ve already called her mother and the police, they’ll be here any minute.”

Lila’s struggles doubled when she heard that. “You said you wouldn’t call the police if I gave you my mom’s number!”

Sabine merely twisted the girl’s arm a little more, halting her struggles rather than letting her arm break. “I said no such thing. I only said you could choose whether to talk to your mother here or at the police station. And I promise you, young lady, your mother is going to hear everything you’ve been up to. Including what you’ve been doing Marinette.”

~oOo~

The fallout had been epic after the police and Lila’s mother arrived at the bakery. 

Greta Rossi had been in denial at first, not wanting to think that her daughter was capable of such terrible behavior. But it was hard to argue with the video evidence and eyewitness accounts of Lila attempting to plant moldy pastries, vindictively releasing the cockroaches in the kitchen, or attacking Tom Dupain with a knife, which would require stitches. 

It got even worse when school let out for lunch and the majority of Lila’s classmates came rushing over when they saw the police and ambulance at the bakery. Mme. Rossi had asked them why they were all out when there was an akuma on the loose. The class asked her why they were back in Paris since she was supposed to be in a meeting with the royal family of Spain. It became apparent after a few more minutes of back and forth that Lila had been lying for the entire time they’d been in France and Greta would have to meet with M. Damocles and Mme. Bustier soon about her daughter’s absences and failure to contact her.

When the police were placing handcuffs on Lila, she started shrieking. “You can’t do this to me! I have diplomatic immunity! Let me go or I’ll get you fired and Italy will invade France for what you’re doing to me!”

“Wrong!” Greta spoke over Lila as she approached her daughter. “I’m a secretary at the embassy, not a diplomat. Only I have immunity, you don’t. I was lucky to even be able to bring you on assignment rather than leave you with your Zio and Zia in Italy. But I see that was a mistake, and now both of us will have to pay for that mistake!”

Lila continued to shriek and curse as she was forced into the back of the police cruiser and taken to the police station. 

In the end; Lila was charged with corporate sabotage, breaking and entering, assault with a deadly weapon, and slander by Tom and Sabine. She was also charged for truancy, forgery, bullying, slander, and cyber bullying for what she’d done to Marinette at school. Lila’s mother was forced to pay for an exterminator to take care of the cockroaches, as well as all of the supplies and pastries that had been at the bakery and had to be thrown out due to the infestation that Lila had attempted to cause. But the worst was having to pay restitution for the time the bakery was closed. Turns out, Tom and Sabine’s bakery really was the top bakery in Paris and had the receipts to prove it.

There had been some worry that the temporary shutdown would hurt the bakery’s reputation, but Inspector LaStare, with the help of Nadja Chamack, had seen to it that none of the problems would blow back on the Dupain-Chengs. Inspector LaStare had gone on record stating that it was a rare occasion where an establishment was completely innocent of the accusations brought against it, but this was one of those times. He then showed footage of Lila planting the moldy pastry, assaulting Tom with the knife, and flinging the bugs into the kitchen before attempting to escape. He also stated that he was personally working with the Dupain-Chengs to make sure that the bakery was up to code and open as soon as possible so all of Paris could get back to enjoying their favorite pastries.

Viewers all over Paris were appalled at the actions of the teenage girl,discovering her vendetta was against Marinette since she knew about Lila’s lies. While laughing at her as they watched Tom hold her upside-down by her leg and Sabine flip the fleeing girl over her shoulder via security footage. The footage ended up being shared by people all over YouTube and gained millions of views, showing their support for the Dupain-Chengs and humiliating Lila on a now global level.

There was also sympathy towards Marinette and outrage towards the Francois Dupont administration when Nadja reported how Lila had also been bullying Marinette without receiving any help from the school. This would result in both Damocles and Bustier being suspended from their jobs until they completed training in regards to handling bullies.

With all the publicity against Lila Rossi, Gabriel Agreste had been left in a difficult position since Lila had only recently been named a new spokesmodel for his brand. Adrien, however, offered a solution to save face and help the brand in the future. So, when Nadja was doing a followup on the story the following week, Gabriel did a video interview where he very publicly announced Lila’s termination from the company for her actions and announced that he had offered Marinette an internship and a scholarship to the fashion university of her choice, so long as she was accepted. This caused a slew of universities to scout Marinette themselves, as it wasn’t every day a fashion mogul does a public shout out to a girl in college. And just like that, sales and public opinion of the Agreste brand went up.

Lila watched all of this unfold from her prison cell outside of Paris. She had been tried as an adult and was caught committing perjury during her trial, which prompted the judge to give her the maximum sentence for her crimes. She couldn’t even enjoy the pleasure of being akumatized anymore since she was so far out of the city. All she could do was sit in her cell eating moldy bread with cockroaches as her only friends as she sulked on the fact that she had failed, and the entire world was laughing at her.

Taglist:

@2confused-2doanything @7-sage-7 @aadnrsstar @abrx2002 @awkwardromances @bayball @babylovebug18 @botanicalfoxx @back-cats-and-broken-mirrors @caffeinetheory @cheshire5210 @chocolateherringtacofan @city-of-all-tunas @classycollectorreviewworld  @corabeth11 @chocolatechipcookiesandcamembert @darkened-flame @delightfulcookiesrecipespizza @fandom-trapped-03 @ghostmaster @iamblinkmarvelarmy @interobanginyourmom @izang @jesussavedevenme @kazedancer @kitten12113 @lady-phoenix-of-tardis @lilypotter2018 @lunataravler @ladylupuscrow @maskedpainter @miraculouslydumb @nerd-nowandforever @ola-is-dead @pandacatxd @plushbookworm @plz-excuse-my-inner-ravenclaw @pheonix-biach @pandora-fucking-box @raiderofthelostbooks @ramos123 @rowanrouge @rowanyx @ren121 @seesea22 @seraphichana @sashakoi @shypeacekitten @tazer6787 @that-girl-sakea @thecrazyfantrollshasmoved @the-smallest-kittenz @tishwinchesterannabethjackson @t1dwarrior-of-earth @ulmban @with-forward-motion @wonderbat91939 @zoiechance

[sukunarii]

Pairing: Yandere! Sukuna x Reader

Warnings: (Sukuna’s Era!) Yandere | Unhealthy relationship | Murder | Blood| This fic is much darker than my usual style! Please beware when you read it. 

Synopsis: In the early morning, you would play your koto in your garden. It was a show for one audience: a stranger that refused to step out of the shadows. A stranger that perhaps grew too fond of you.

Wordcount: 3.0K

A/N: A koto is a Japanese instrument kind of like a harp. Also this fic might be very historical inaccurate. This fic is inspired by a poem by William Blake titled “Song:  When early morn walks forth in sober grey.” 

The sky was gray on the day you first spoke to him. It was early morning, you were in your garden, under the gazebo as usual where you go to practice playing your koto. You enjoyed it, for it was one of the only times where you could feel absorbed in your own world, in your own solitude and tranquility. However, you have noticed that lately, you were not so much alone.

"Behind the willow tree, I know you're there," you called out. You could see the shadow shift, but the person behind did not step out into your view.

"I see you have noticed me," a masculine voice replied. It carried a hint of playfulness.

"Of course I have, you've disturbed my peace for a few mornings now," you replied.

"Am I not welcomed?", he asks.

"What brings you here?", you asked back immediately.

His answer did not come as quick as yours, as if he chose his words carefully  "I was captivated by the music you played," he complimented you.

You were flattered, you had to pause and recollect your thoughts for a moment. If he is just here to listen....well there's no harm, right?

You let out an airy laugh, "As my only audience, I supposed you are welcomed to stay." 

You resumed to playing your koto. From behind the willow tree, Sukuna stole a few glances at you. Along with the beautiful music you created, you looked so effortless and absorbed in your own world while playing. A world that Sukuna could step a foot into by observing you from afar but felt too delicate for him to disturb. You were like an angel while he was a curse— a monster. He shouldn’t have any business with a girl like you. 

Yet you called him, 'My only audience'...he liked the sound of that.

You were playing for him only, and he was glad that he did not even have to capture you for this. After all, a caged bird does not sing the same.

However, the serenity of dawn was disturbed by the loud and abrupt chime of the bell.

With a jolt, you stopped playing.

"Ah, that was the wake up call for the village, I got to go now," you said and got up.

From his shadow, you see him stand up too. You hesitated but decided to ask anyways, "Will you tell me your name?"

He laughs lightheartedly, "A musician does not need to know the name of their audience."

The buds on the dull brown branches were blooming into beautiful flowers that decorated the garden. Summer was approaching. It became routine, he would come to your little concert every morning. It was romantic even. You did not know who he was, but sometimes you would carry little conversations with him. You knew that he was not from the village, he said he travelled up from the valley every morning to visit you.

Knowing that he was not from the village also gave you a sense of security as you could tell him anything and everything without worrying that he would spread rumours. Afterall, you were the daughter of the richest man in the village, from suitors to enemies to your family's reputation, there was so much that you had to keep to yourself. You've learned to express these thoughts into the music you played, but being able to say them out loud in words was relieving.

He was your audience and you were his musician.

Nonetheless, most of the time, very few words were exchanged. It was just you, him, your music in the air and the garden in the surroundings.

You were wearing a purple kimono the day you asked him if you could see him. He gave you the same response as the day you asked him for his name, "A musician does not need to know the appearance of their audience."

You sighed, disappointed, "How about if I ask you as a friend?"

From the flickers of his shadow, you could tell he hesitated. Your heart started racing, in hopes that you will finally see your mysterious friend. But, you were left disappointed, "Not today, my darling. You're still not ready yet."

You looked at his shadow quizzically, what did he mean by not ready? Did he have self-esteem issues? Or a scar? Or was he really ugly...? Not that you would have minded of course, you pouted, "That's not fair. You get to see me all the time."

He chuckles, "I think this is for the better."

The urge to show himself to you or even take you for himself was very strong. However, he had to hold himself back, he didn't want you to be afraid of him. For one, you just called him a 'friend'. And he knew that if he did show himself however, this friendship would be over. You were an angel. He was a curse. Sometimes fate was cruel that way.

The green leaves that fell from the trees were fluttering in the summer breeze. Lately Sukuna has been observing you more and more throughout the day. Instead of rampaging the nearby villages, he would spend more time observing you from the outskirts of your village.

The more he observed, the more he noticed the amount of unsolicited male attention you get when you stroll in the village. Had he not been a curse, he wished he could be strolling by your side and indicating to all of those nuisances that you were his.

The village was not very large, thus, Sukuna has come to recognize most of the faces. However, one time there was a strange man with black hair that appeared in the village. Not that Sukuna cared much as long as he didn't try to flirt with his little darling — except the man did this very thing: he stopped you.

Sukuna could not hear what the man said to you, but he could certainly feel the rage rising in him. The urge to kill this man was very strong. In fact, in the heat of the moment he feels like he could kill everyone in this village to prove his point. Seeing another man try to talk to you so intimately enraged him. He has held himself back multiple times from rampaging your village and taking you home with him. Taking you as his. But for your sake, he has managed to suppress these dark thoughts. But not this time.

He approached you, or specifically the stranger menacingly...with killing intent. But once he was in hearing distance, he heard you tell the man firmly,

"I'm not interested."

The man paused. But insisted again, "Why not? I can treat you right."

"I'm interested in someone else," you told him.

Sukuna paused. Were you talking about him?

"What? No way, who might this be and how come I've never heard of this before! You're just making up lies to turn down my love," he argues back condescendingly.

You shot him a dirty look and you tried to leave but he grabs your arm, “Hold it there girl, I’m not done talking yet.”

That’s it. You slapped him. Not a weak slap, a hard one. The man's face flipped towards the other side.

"That is none of your business. Now if you would excuse me," you said angrily and turned around and left.

Sukuna smiled, 'That's my girl.'

He didn't even have to do anything.

You ran your hand through the calming blue water of the pond in your garden. You have strained your hand from playing on the koto for too much, they were sore and calloused. You tried inviting your friend to come feel the water too but he refused, insisting on remaining well hidden from your view.

"He is from this powerful family, the Zenin clan I believe. And he seems really interested in me."

Sukuna didn't answer.

"But I'll keep rejecting him, I don't like him and don't care for his advances," you rambled on, then sighed, "However I can't say the same for my parents. They are interesting in getting a hold of the powers of the Zenin clans."

"Why don't you leave the village with me?" he finally answered you.

You didn't think he was serious, but you entertained his idea, "They're not just your normal powerful families. They are very powerful as in even if we leave the village, there's nowhere left to run."

"Then I'll just kill them. Everyone of them."

You laughed bittersweetly, what could he possibly do against them when he was too shy to even show himself to you? The Zenin clan was one of the most powerful sorcerers of the eras!

"Haha, yeah that would be nice. But with all of the curses rampaging the nearby villages, we really need the Zenin clan's protection. It really sucks but they're powerful jujutsu sorcerers, it's a miracle that our village is not destroyed yet unlike the our neighbouring villages,” but swiftly, your fake optimism fades. You couldn’t play your koto today, but this stranger was your friend and talking to him gives a sense of comfort. He was listening to you and he was trustworthy.

You say softly, “If only something happened to their third son so that he would stop trying to woo me all of the time...." then, you laughed sheepishly, "Of course I'm just joking haha, I mean it's awful to wish death on someone..."

But Sukuna only heard the first part.

With summer abruptly coming to an end and winter approaching, sunrise came later every day. The sky was still black the morning you broke down crying to him. It was moonless.

"I-I know I said I wished he was d-dead, but I didn't mean it f-for real," you said between your sobs, "I just didn't w-want to marry h-him, but he got killed by a curse and I f-feel like I cursed him."

"Wasn't that what you wanted?", the intonations of his voice came out as cold as the autumn air. However, you were too absorbed in your sadness to pick up these nuances.

"No! I would never truly want anyone to die! That’s awful!”

“Now you won’t have to worry about unsolicited attention anymore,” he answered briskly

You hugged your knees closer to your chest and buried your face into them, “It didn’t make a difference...the Zenin offered their s-second son instead..., so it wasn't cancelled regardless..."

"What wasn't cancelled?", Sukuna asked.

"The wedding...”

Sukuna's jaw tightened. He was upset. Furious. You’ve mentioned that the Zenin family was interested in you but you’ve never mentioned that there was anything official. He didn't like that you didn't mention this to him at all. 

"Leave with me."

This time it wasn't a question. It was an order. Yet, you refused it again.

"I can't. I can't leave my family behind like that...if I run away, the Zenin clan would bare a grudge against them, who knows what they’ll do..."

For the first time, Sukuna finally stepped out of the shadows.

But you didn't notice, nor did you see him, the obscurity of the lightless sky hid him from your vision.

"Pathetic, why would you care about family that are selling you off to strangers? This is why you humans are so weak. Being emotional for things that do not matter," he says, words dripping with menace.

Your eyes widened, alerted by the swift change of mood. Tension high in the air. He did not sound like the friend that you knew. It’s as if he was a real stranger.

"That's not true! It's wrong to be selfish, they're my family. I have to listen to them and it's for the best of the village," you tried to reason but you were worried that he could hear the slight fear in your trembling voice.

"Oh yes because the Zenin clan will protect your village from curses. You think too highly of them. When I killed that nuisance, he was crawling and crying, begging for his life. He may be a little stronger than your average jujutsu sorcerer but he was still a weak human." Sukuna was tired of keeping up his calming and human-like demeanour. He topped off his statement with a sadistic laugh.

However, you didn't answer him. Not immediately at least, you were soaking in the words he just said. You gasped.

"Y-You mean you killed him?!"

You took a step back in shock and fear. You were told that he was killed by a curse...if this stranger you've befriended was a curse and one strong enough to kill someone from the Zenin family....you were in deep trouble.

Sukuna continued laughing, "Ah, yes I killed him. I sliced his body into pieces but I preserved the head so he could be recognized. It was a masterpiece, you should of seen the expression of anguish on his decapitated head!"

All of his efforts of wanting to preserve this friendship, fearing to taint your innocence, and scared of not being delicate around you, all thrown away in the heat of the moment. It didn't matter anymore, not when annoying jujutsu sorcerers were going to get in the way and take you away from him.

You screamed, "Get away from me, you monster!"

Your fight or flight instincts kicked in, this man in front of you— no this curse in front of you— was not a friend. You have befriended something much more sinister, he was a killer. A powerful killer and from the enthusiasm in his voice, he was a sadistic one too. You turned to run back to your house.

To your surprise, he didn't follow you. He watched you and even if you can't see him, you can tell that he was smiling.

You didn't dare to leave the house the days before the wedding. You were also too scared to tell anyone about your foolish encounter with a curse. Instead, you urged your parents to push the wedding earlier. The earlier the better, much to their delight.

Luckily, you did not hear about him and it seems that things have returned to normal. But your instincts say otherwise. If you play with fire, you ought to get burned. And you seemed to have attracted the attention of something very ominous.

You were wearing white on the day of the wedding. A veil covering your face. As per tradition, you were patiently waiting for your groom in another room, waiting for him to lift the veil off your face and take you to the main ceremony room to present you to the invited guests and families. Then allow the head of the households to pronounce you as husband and wife.

Maybe it was your nervousness, it seemed that every minute went by slower. Almost as if the ceremony has been delayed. But with your eyes covered by the veil, all you could do was wait.

Then finally, you heard someone approaching you. You feel a hand gently lift the veil off your face. To your surprise, the person who brought you out of the darkness was not the second son of the Zenin family. There he was, the powerful curse that rampaged villages: Sukuna. You might be the only person who has seen all four of his arms and eyes up close and lived to tell the tale. Not that you would have anyone to tell this to.

He was covered in blood. You were not sure who's but from the silence and the lack of wounds on him, you can formulate a pretty good guess. You drew in a sharp breath and jerked away from his touch, hoping to crawl away even.

"Help!", you shouted out hoping that anyone would hear — anyone at all....wasn't half of the Zenin household here? What were they doing?

"Shh, I was late because I had to take care of some trash, but don't worry, I'm here now," Sukuna says to you. You recognized his voice right away.

You were so terrified that you didn't even notice tears started coming out of your eyes. You struggled to get away from him, you clawed at him, tried to push him away, but it didn't work. He didn't even flinch.

"(Name), stop that before you anger me," he warned you.

You didn't listen.

"You're a monster," you spat at him and you tried to slap him but he stops your hand midair, the blood on his hands imprinting onto your white kimono.

"I'm not like those pathetic Zenin, you'll have to try harder if you want to hit me," Sukuna says with a taunting voice.

Despair washes over you. He was right, if even the Zenin couldn’t win against him, then what could you do? There was no way you could win this nor escape him.

When he carried you bridal style out towards the main room of the ceremony, you’ve stopped struggling. The room was plastered with blood. You recognize some of the body limbs on the ground, the remains of the guests, of your family, of the Zenin family. They were barely remains, mostly just little pieces. You had the urge of throwing up. No one was coming to save you.

It was just you and Sukuna.

Sukuna laughs, he can hear the whiplash of the puddles of blood as he steps over them. He was proud of his work, "Just like usual, only you and me. I'm your only audience."

The blood that covered him stains onto your previously white kimono.

Sukuna always compared you to an angel. And he was a curse—a monster. You two were not meant to be, fate was cruel like that. But Sukuna can be even crueler.

You are his bride.

And it was a red wedding.

[hwascripts]

Masterlist

WC: Unknown

TW: Swearing, mentions of murder, a bit of angst, I think that’s it!

This is heavily unedited because it’s my Levi simp hours and I need Dad!Levi headcanons. Also your kid and Eren’s kid are gender neutral

Levi as a father 

-I honestly don’t picture Levi as someone who planned on having kids but rather someone who ends up having kids by complete accident. Living in the walls during a war is absolute hell and he doesn’t want his kids to suffer the same way he did growing up.

-Whether or not the kid is adopted or his biological kid- it doesn’t matter to him, he couldn’t give less of a shit about the parentage of his kid...if he raises the kid then you better believe it’s his kid.

If your kid is adopted then here’s how I picture you guys becoming their parents

- During one of your expeditions beyond the walls you find (what you think is) an abandoned cabin in the woods. When you point it out Levi just tells you to ignore it and focus on the task Erwin gave you, but you have this weird gut feeling that someone is in there. While Levi is distracted you go off to the cabin and peek inside and to your horror- there is a small child, no older than a few months crying in it’s deceased mothers arms. You run over and pry the crying baby from the mother’s hands and immediately start trying to hush it’s cries

-Levi notices the fact that you’ve left his side after a few minutes of silence and he pinches his nose in frustration- of course you went to check out the cabin he told you to ignore. He flies away from the tree he was perched on and makes his way to the cabin to look for you- upon reaching the cabin his eyes widen from pure shock. Where the hell did you get a crying baby from? he can’t help but be filled with sorrow when he notice’s the child’s dead parents on the ground behind you- bandits had probably murdered them.

-The two of you have a huge argument about what you should do with the orphan child and this results in the two of you not speaking for over a week. But as the week goes on, he realizes that him and that baby are more similar than he thinks. Levi never had a father- the closest father figure in his life being Kenny who abandoned him at a young age, and his dear mother Kuchel who died of sickness when he was just a boy. Both Levi and the child didn’t have parents in their lives, fate cruelly ripping that away from them. He see’s himself in that baby.

-After a week of silence Levi storms into your office only to catch you asleep with the baby on your chest, his heart softens just the slightest bit at the image. He sits next to you and gently shakes you awake- careful to not wake the sleeping baby. Before you can even say anything he quietly states:

-”we’re not abandoning the baby, we can raise them together”

-All the worry and stress you carried melted away after hearing his words.

If your kid was biologically his, this is how I picture it turning out:

-The day Hanji informed you that you were pregnant was quite possibly one of the worst days of your life (sorry to be angsty) how the hell could you have gotten pregnant? the amount of stress, physical strain on your body and sleepless nights is not ideal for fertility- so how the hell did this happen?

-How the hell would you even tell Levi? The topic of children has never once come up and you’re sure he would never want to raise a child in the walls while titans destroy and kill everyone in sight. Besides- the two of you already have enough on your plates as it is.

- You’d tell him straight out that you were pregnant during your nightly tea time before bed, just straight up dropping the news on him. It takes a few seconds for him to fully register what you just told him but once he finally understands he drops his teacup, the boiling hot tea staining his jacket. All he can do is sputter like a fish out of water and aggressively try to clean the stain.

- I’m going to be realistic here- the last thing he would do is jump for joy and kiss you. I hate to be angsty again but realistically he’d probably storm off and go for a walk around the town while he tries to take in the news. I see him unintentionally ignoring you for a few days while he tries to accept the fact that the two of you are bringing a child into this world.

-After about a week he’s finally calmed himself enough to talk to you about the situation and what the best thing for the two of you is. Again, he isn’t happy that you guys are bringing a kid into this- but who the hell would be? but he sure as hell won’t take that out on the kid, he thinks that’s the most pathetic thing you can do as a parent.

-”look, our situation is shitty but I’m not leaving you to raise the brat on your own”

How he is as a father

- I’m not going to lie to you, he is not the type to coddle his kid or show them a lot of affection. To be honest he doesn’t know a single thing about parenting, the only “parent” he had taught him violence and then left Levi to fend for himself- but he does know that most children don’t grow up around violence so he refuses to be even the slightest bit like his uncle Kenny.

- 100% calls his kid brat, ankle-biter, kid...you name it- but he doesn’t mean it in a derogatory way because deep down inside he still has a soft spot for the kid. 

-He rarely ever shows physical affection to the kid because he just doesn’t know how, he never knew the affectionate touch of another human until you came along. That’s not to say that he doesn’t love his kid- he would sacrifice his life without second thought to protect them.

-He doesn’t realize how distant and cold he can be to his kid until he overhears them crying to you about how “daddy doesn’t love me” and his heart just shatters into a million pieces because he DOES love them but for the life of him he just can’t find a way to show it.

-Levi ends up sitting down with the kid and having a conversation that was long overdue (for reference the kid is now 7 years old) and he admits that he loves them more than anything for the first time.

-Your kid just stares at him for a second and blinks because this is the VERY FIRST TIME they’re hearing their dad say I love you- Levi nearly has a heart attack when the kid launches themselves into his chest and starts sobbing.

-For the very first time in 7 years this kid is finally experiencing the love from their father (besides awkward headpats) and the feeling is just so foreign to both of them that even Levi sniffles a little bit

-Levi silently rocks them back and forth while he rubs their back, the child’s sobs turning into soft sniffles. But what Levi says next shocks all three of you.

“I’m sorry for being a terrible father. forgive me little one?”

-You don’t know what shocks you more- the fact he apologized or that he called your child “little one” instead of the usual “brat”. The kid looks at him while wiping their tears away.

“you’re not a bad daddy. I love you papa”

-To this day Levi swears he just had watery eyes because of the dust but you know damn well they were fat tears rolling down his face

-After this incident Levi swears to himself that he’ll be a more affectionate father, a father who tells his kid that he’s proud of them, a father who their kid can rely on.

-He’s tough on his kid and never lets them slack off, he scolds them whenever they make bad choices and sometimes your kid says he’s got a stick up his ass (you lightly scold them but the two of you always end up laughing because it’s true) but your husband deeply cares for your child and does it so they can grow into the best version of themselves.

-Did I mention that he absolutely flips the fuck out when your kid brings home Eren’s kid to introduce you to them? You have to sit on him to make sure that he doesn’t strangle the poor bastard. 

“If that son of a bitch is anything like his father then they’re going home in a bodybag!” “Levi you can’t threaten them just because they’re Eren’s kid!” “Like hell I can’t! nobody is good enough for our child”

-Your kid quickly learns that they can’t bring their significant other home while Levi is there- unless they have a death wish. The two of you team up to keep Levi distracted for a few hours while the couple chills in your living room

-Your kid swears like a sailor (just like their dad) and Levi swears on his life that he’s not the one that taught them that.

“What the hell do you mean? I didn’t do shit! I don’t fucking know where they picked that up from!” *cue you looking into the camera*

-He’s so damn proud when he see’s his kid graduate at the top of their class. He doesn’t scream at the top of his lungs when your kid walks across the stage but he pulls them to the side after and congratulates them with a small smile on his face

“Good job. I’m proud of you, damn brat”

-Gives them one of his rare Levi hugs and the kid nearly drops the diploma in shock because “wtf dad never hugs me”

-You have to pinch his side multiple times during your kid and Eren’s kids wedding because he won’t shut the hell up with snarky remarks

“Say no goddamnit!” *you pinch him* 

“Ow son of a bitch! what the fuck Y/n?”

 “Would you shut the hell up and be happy for our child on their wedding day?!” 

“I would if our child had taste and picked someone el- OW FUCK!” 

“Shut the fuck up already and behave, Levi!”

-He grumbles while the rest of the former cadets and captains laugh at his sour look

Silly headcanons

-God could you imagine Levi and your kid sitting at the dinner table, it’s almost midnight and they’re arguing over a homework question neither of them understand. This is the night both of you hear your kid swear

“What the hell is this shit? Improper fractions are made-up bullshit”

“If you don’t know then how the fuck am I suppose to know?”

-It’s so silent you can hear a pin drop

“Levi come here for a second”

“Shit...finish this while I’m gone, brat”

-Your kid laughs their ass off while you pull Levi’s ear and drag him to your shared room

‘Yeah keep fucking laughing at your dad, brat!”

“LEVI!”

-An absolute nightmare when it comes to cleaning oh my god both you and your kid wanna kill him sometimes

“This shit isn’t clean, you wipe it down six times and then place it at an angle”

“Levi it’s a fucking T.V. Remote”

-The war ended years ago now and he tells your kid about all the titans he killed and the ass he kicked

“And then I sliced that ugly bastard titan’s head clean off!”

“Levi for someone who’s a clean freak your stories sure are gross”

-The noise the toaster makes when it’s done scares the shit out of him. He’ll be in the middle of scolding your kid and then he jumps because the toaster is done and your kid just thinks it’s comedic gold

“I fucking told you not to do that shit but you went and did it anyways, do you know how irresponsi-FUCK! damn toaster- Hey stop laughing brat I’m not done yet!”

That’s all I’ve got for now- stay tuned

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 5,229 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria Warnings: Language, typical TWD stuff A/N: This is Part 7 of a series! Find the previous parts on the Masterlist! Summary: Daryl continues to worry about Y/N and wonder about her past, but they continue to bond inside the safe walls of Alexandria.

Your name: submit What is this?

From that day forward, you and Daryl were almost inseparable. The growing closeness between you was obvious and spending your time together was like a subconscious habit you couldn’t break.

When he wasn’t around you, Daryl felt like something was just missing and it seemed you always ended up together, even if it was just to do nothing.

Not too long after your last bad run-in outside the walls, Deanna insisted on having a town get-together as a morale booster. There would be food and a bonfire and supposed comradery. You were lying on your couch when there was a knock on the front door earlier in the day. You winced from the continued soreness in your ribs as you climbed to your feet and when you rounded the corner into the hall you could see Aaron on the front stoop.

You immediately gave him a look when you pulled open the front door.

“Y/N,” he said with a smile. “How are you feeling?”

You nudged your head as a way to say “come in” and Aaron stepped inside. You walked back up the hallway and stood in the kitchen, waiting for him to follow. “I know that isn’t why you came by,” you said.

“It is too!” he argued. “Well… it’s at least one of the reasons…”

“Uh huh.”

“Tonight—”

“No,” you interrupted.

“But just—”

“Aaron, you know I hate this pretend bullshit…”

He sighed heavily. “It’s not pretend. It’s real. This place is real.”

“And so is what’s out there!” you argued back. “Daryl and I just almost died. That just happened! Am I supposed to forget about my busted ribs or this,” you asked, gesturing to the bruising on your neck, which thankfully was starting to fade at last.

Aaron’s face softened and turned apologetic. “No. Of course not. But if we stop trying, if all we do is think about what’s out there… what’s the point of living?”

Goddammit. He had a damn point. You sighed heavily and closed your eyes for a moment. You shook your head. “I hate you,” you said sarcastically.

He smiled. “Love you too. Starts at 7. I’ll wait for you to show up, and if you don’t, I’m going to come get you, okay?” He started to head toward the front door but turned around halfway. “Oh—and hey, maybe think about bringing Daryl with you?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “…what’s that mean?” you asked suspiciously.

“What? Nothing! Just—you two are kind of alike in some ways. You know he won’t go unless someone drags him,” Aaron said.

“Uh huh…”

Aaron only grinned back at you. “I’ll see you tonight,” he said. You heard him open the front door and returned his shouted goodbye.

“Fuck,” you said aloud. You needed a shower and something to wear that would hopefully cover up worst of the bruising on your neck… At least you could count on dim lighting conditions since it was a bonfire.

That evening, Daryl was sitting on the steps of the house hoping, waiting to see if you would step outside. Finally, he saw you coming out onto the porch, shutting the door behind you. You were wearing a long sleeve thermal, with the sleeves partially pushed up to accommodate your wrist brace and the still balmy evening air. You had a light scarf looped around your neck, and Daryl knew that was purposeful. He got up as you came down the stairs and strode toward you.

You saw the archer and couldn’t help but smile at him as he approached. He had that stride, leading more strongly with one shoulder and foot than the other.

“Hey.” There was something about his deep voice that instantly put you at ease and you paused in the middle of the street.

“Hey,” you returned. You noticed again that his hair was shiny and looked soft, clean. He’d obviously cleaned up. “You going to this thing?” you asked.

He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and shrugged. “I dunno. Was thinkin’ about it. You’re goin’?” he asked.

You nodded. “Gonna try. I guess,” you said with a laugh. “Aaron talked me into it…”

“Yeah, uhh—yeah, he came by here earlier, too.” Daryl rocked on his feet a little bit. He wished he was better with words because he really wanted to tell you that you looked beautiful, even just in your jeans and thermal, bruises and broken wrist and all. “Well, if you’re headin’ there I’ll walk with ya.”

You nodded and Daryl fell into stride beside you. As you approached the center of Alexandria, you could already hear loud laughter and conversation and there was a warm glow from lanterns and the bonfire. Kids were running around playing the kinds of games you did when the world was free—Ghost in the Graveyard and Hide and Seek. You shook your head as you took in the scene, your feet faltering a bit. “Surreal, isn’t it?” you said vaguely. Daryl couldn’t help glancing at your expression. Far from looking content or like you were enjoying the domestic scene, your brow was furrowed and there was a faraway look in your eyes.

“Mhm,” he acknowledged. “C’mon. Let’s get a drink at least.”

You followed him through the crowd, feeling somewhat more at ease, more okay with him beside you. Daryl handed you a cold beer and grabbed one for himself, nudging his head over toward the reservoir just outside the circle of firelight and bubble of conversation. As you left the refreshment area you snagged a bottle of whiskey too. You collapsed down onto a wooden bench with a sigh and stared toward the water. You took a long drink from your beer and drummed your fingernails against the glass. Daryl was standing nearby, his blue eyes narrowed as he stared out over the water.

“Hey,” you said, drawing his attention. “Come on and sit by me at least. Then they can’t accuse us of being totally anti-social.”

He let out a small snort in place of a laugh and rolled his eyes. His stomach fluttered a little as he complied and took the other seat next to you on the wooden loveseat, spinning his beer anxiously in his hands. The bench was small; your shoulders were almost touching.

“Look what else I got,” you said, reaching down and lifting up the bottle of whiskey. Instead of the reaction you expected, Daryl just gave you a calm but perceptive glance.

“Ya plannin’ on gettin’ drunk?” he asked sharply.

You stared down at the bottle in your hand and your eyes fell again on the brace on your wrist. “Maybe,” you said quietly, not even really sure you had said it aloud.

Daryl’s brow furrowed more deeply. “Why?” he drawled.

You shrugged. “Does there have to be a reason?”

He licked his lips and leaned back in his seat. “Usually is one, whether or not there needs to be.”

He was annoyingly observant. You’d known him a matter of weeks and he always seemed to see right through you. But you simply uncorked the bottle and took a pull. It burned your lips and left a warm trail all the way down into your stomach. You chased it with another sip of your beer and tried to distract yourself by just staring out at the water again, looking at the glowing orbs of porchlights in the distance reflecting there. Every so often you could feel Daryl’s eyes on you.

“What?” you said, finally turning to face him. You were only a few inches apart. You thought you saw his cheeks grow a bit pink for a moment, but in the dim light you couldn’t be sure.

“Nothin’,” he said, turning away and gazing out across the water the way you had been just a moment earlier.

You sat together in silence for quite a while and although it felt tense at first, both of you relaxed into it. You alternately sipped from your beer and took pulls off the whiskey, a dangerous pattern because you weren’t paying any attention to how much you were drinking and you were a lightweight even before alcohol was a rare commodity.

But the longer you sat, the more you felt like there was a bubble in your chest, growing bigger and bigger and waiting to burst. Finally, you couldn’t hold out in the strenuous anticipation any longer and spoke what was on your mind. “You ever wonder how this place is going to fall?”

Your words were quiet and definitely a bit slurred. Daryl’s eyes snapped over to yours which were already on his face, surprising him as they flickered back and forth between his, holding his gaze steadily. He gulped and nodded. “Yeah,” he admitted.

“Or when…” you added.

“Yeah…” he agreed again. “I do.”

You sighed and turned back to look at the water. “I think about it all the time,” you said softly, and Daryl thought he heard your voice break. You stood up abruptly and whipped your empty beer bottle into the water, watching the ripples expanding across the small pond. You wavered a little on your feet and Daryl jumped up, hands extended in case you needed to be steadied.

“I think ya better slow down on that booze,” he growled.

You simply gave him a defiant look and took another pull from the bottle. You held it out to him but he only stared you down.

“Nah. If you’re gonna be stupid, then I’m gonna be sober. And I’m gonna get ya some water,” he said, turning to leave. His momentum stopped when he felt your hand gentle on his arm. He looked back at you in shock and couldn’t help the kneejerk way his body stiffened. But it was only from surprise. A split second later his stomach flipped at the feeling of your hand there and he wished you would never take it off. But you had obviously perceived his tension and you withdrew it quickly.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, sinking back down onto the bench, wanting to kick yourself for grabbing onto him.

The archer was left puzzled and chewed his bottom lip as he considered you a moment. “I’ll be right back.”

You were alone on the bench, waiting for Daryl to return, your head more than a little hazy from the whiskey, when footsteps approached. You knew they weren’t Daryl’s. They didn’t have his cadence and his footsteps were almost silent, even when he wasn’t hunting or tracking. You turned to see Spencer and internally groaned.

“Isn’t right that you’re over here all alone,” he said, walking around and sitting in the seat that was Daryl’s without any invitation.

“I wasn’t,” you snapped, leaning away from him.

“Look pretty alone to me,” he said, downing what was left in his drink glass and actually taking the bottle of whiskey from you to refill it with a healthy share.

“Yeah, well, that seat—the one you’re in—it’s reserved. Already taken,” you said, snatching the bottle back.

He scoffed. “What? By that redneck? Seriously?”

You shot a sharp glare at Spencer, but knew the sting was likely diminished by the glazed look in your eyes on account of the booze. “You know his name. It’s Daryl Dixon. Not ‘that redneck’.”

“Whatever,” Spencer laughed. “Guy’s a nobody. Who cares?”

“I care. Now get the fuck out of his seat,” you growled.

Spencer only smiled back at you. “I think you’re just afraid that if you let me sit here, something might actually happen between us… Come on. You know there’s something here—as much as you fight it. Some spark.”

You stood up abruptly and stepped away from him, scoffing. “What the hell is wrong with you? I feel like I’ve been perfectly clear with you over and over again. Did you forget that I punched you out?” He seemed impervious to your refusal and only stood up too and stepped closer to you.

“Come on, Y/N. You know you want this,” he said, reaching a hand out and trailing his fingers down your arm.

You shrugged him off. “Don’t. touch me. I won’t tell you again.”

He soured somewhat immediately. “What is your problem? Is it seriously something to do with that hick you’re always hanging around? You have something going on with Daryl?” he said, mockingly. “Seriously? What a fucking joke. He’s a mess. Just some—dumb redneck. You deserve way better than him. You deserve someone with their shit together, someone who will string together more than two words at a time. Someone like me.”

You physically recoiled from him again. “You’re a fucking joke. Everything you’ve ever had in life has been handed to you and you’ve turned out to be a spineless, spoiled dick. You have no idea what’s out there and you wouldn’t last a day. You’d be lucky to ever be even a quarter of the man Daryl is.” Your jaw was set. “Now fuck off and go find someone else to bother,” you growled. “Try one of the other sheltered suburbanites. They’d probably fall for your bullshit.”

“I can’t believe this shit,” he muttered angrily, but you heaved a sigh of relief as he stalked off, hopeful that he would finally get the fucking hint for once and leave you alone for good. You turned back to stare at the water in front of you, gentle ripples still bouncing off the shore from when you’d tossed your bottle in. Your uninjured hand went to clasp around your wrist brace absently.

You didn’t know that Daryl was only a few feet away, returning with some water for you, and that he had been watching the entire interaction. And Spencer’s words had stung. Sure, Daryl knew Spencer was an idiot and he certainly had no high opinion of the moron but Spencer had also just verbalized some of Daryl’s own deepest insecurities about himself and even… about you and how you felt about him… and that had stung him deeply. But then came your words… and he felt complete disbelief, sure he had misheard. He felt paralyzed for a long moment as he puzzled over what you had said and how you had said it. But you had been forceful and purposeful. Daryl hadn’t imagined that.

He was so shocked that his boots were rooted in place. He stood there with that cup of water in his hand, dumbfounded, before he finally snapped himself out of it and went around the bench to stand beside you. “Hey,” he said, holding out the water. “I just, uhh—I just saw Spencer stalk off. He looked pretty pissed. Was he botherin’ ya? Are ya alright?”

You accepted the glass and drank deeply from it, suddenly realizing that you actually were pretty thirsty. You rolled your eyes. “I’m fine. And maybe now that fucking asshole will finally leave me alone… Idiot,” you mumbled, looking back at the water.

Daryl shifted awkwardly on his feet. His heart was racing as he thought about what you had said. He watched with concern as you took another drink of whiskey from the bottle, this time grimacing a little at the burn. “Would ya quit that?” he asked, drawing your eyes to him.

You studied him for a moment. “Wanna get out of here?” you asked, glancing back at the crowd around the bonfire. Daryl followed your eyes and then looked back at you. His expression was unsure. He was trying to guess at your meaning. “Just—go for a walk or something. We can at least tell Aaron we came,” you said.

He chewed his bottom lip for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, alright. Somebody oughta babysit ya anyway,” he snarked. You pulled a face at him in response and one corner of his mouth twitched up.

“Alright then, chaperone. C’mon,” you said. Bottle in hand, you started to follow the edge of the reservoir, moving away from the glow of the bonfire and the loud laughter and conversation. Daryl walked next to you, content just to walk quietly. You ended up on the other side of the pond from the party, leaning on the railing of the dock and looking back across the water. Daryl walked past you to stand at the end of the dock. You meandered over to him and took in his broad shoulders and muscular arms. You couldn’t help biting your bottom lip. Oh, fuck You are in trouble… you thought to yourself. “Can you swim, Dixon?” you asked him suddenly. He had just enough time to snap around to look at you before you were grinning at him and pushing him hard, your uninjured hand flat in the center of his chest. He went plummeting into the water backwards and came back up gasping as you laughed hard at his expense.

“Are ya frickin’ kiddin’ me?! The hell is wrong with ya?!” he barked at you, treading water. His long hair was plastered to his face. “Oh, yer dead,” he growled at you.

“I’m dead? What are ya gonna do?” You slowly paced backwards on the dock, a wide, genuine smile crinkling your eyes, and the sight of that was enough to make any real annoyance Daryl had evaporate. He couldn’t resist that megawatt smile. “You made it so easy! You were just standing right there at the end!” you said back. “What, I was supposed to just not take that opportunity?”

Daryl let out a chesty growl and pointed a finger at you. “You and whiskey should not mix.” He pushed his wet hair out of his face and swam back to the edge of the dock. “Well…” he said expectantly, staring at you.

You laughed again and shrugged. “Well?”

“At least come help me get the hell out of here,” he rumbled.

You let out a loud laugh. “How stupid do you think I am? I know you just want me to come over there so you can pull me in or splash me or something! Besides, I can’t pull you out. Wrist? Ribs? Remember?”

Daryl muttered under his breath and pulled himself out on the dock, his wet clothes sticking to him, complete with sopping wet boots. He stared down at the water pouring off him onto the wooden deck.

You pressed your lips together in a pleased attempt to stifle more laughter.

“You’re dead,” he growled again, looking up at you. “I ain’t babysittin’ your ass no more. I dun care if ya do fall in and drown,” he barked, starting to stalk toward you to leave the dock.

“Oh, come on, Daryl. It’s pretty funny. I mean, if it were reversed—”

“My damn boots,” he interrupted, giving you another glare.

You stared down at his feet and grimaced. “Right… well… come on. I’ll walk you back to your house so you can change. It’s the least I can do,” you said, trying hard to stifle more laughter at the glare the archer was giving you.

“I should throw ya in right now,” he said. “Maybe it’d sober ya up,” he said, shaking the water from his arms.

“Hey—I probably shouldn’t be swimming! I’m a cripple, remember?”

“Uh huh. Convenient,” he muttered. He started down the sidewalk, leaving wet footprints. You jogged a little to catch up with him and although he could feel your eyes on him he was determined not to look at you, trying to pretend he was still mad. It didn’t last long and when he next looked up you saw that one corner of his mouth was quirked up in a half-smile. Your grin widened. “Ya are gonna pay for this eventually, ya know,” he said gruffly.

“Worth it.”

You walked with Daryl in a comfortable silence all the way back to the house he was sharing with many of his group members, although some had split up and moved in to the other house by now. You froze suddenly at the bottom of the stairs as Daryl climbed them.

“Woah,” you said. You pressed a hand to your head.

Daryl glanced back at you and rolled his eyes, letting out a sharp exhale. “Whiskey?”

“Yeah, it’s like it all just hit me at once.”

He let out a gruff laugh. “It ain’t hittin’ ya at once. Ya been slurrin’ for over an hour now.” He came back down the steps and gently grasped your elbow, his heart jumping as his fingers made contact with you. “C’mon. Let’s get ya some more water.”

You smiled at him a little abashedly as he led you inside. It was the first time you’d ever been in their house and you looked around, taking in Rick’s spare pair of boots by the front door and Judith’s high chair at the table.

“Here,” he said, shoving a full water glass into your hands. “I’mma get some dry clothes and rinse off this pond smell all over me. Thanks to you…” You laughed again and shrugged.

“You look good all wet though,” you said, the words surprising you even as they slipped out.

Daryl’s blue eyes narrowed and he ducked his head, mumbling a gruff “whatever” before disappearing downstairs to retrieve some clothes, completely baffled and unable to come up with any response to that. He hoped you hadn’t been able to see the warmth he certainly felt in his face. He came back quickly with a towel over his shoulder and some clothes under his arm and pointed at you vehemently. “Now just sit down and quit with the damn whiskey. Don’t go anywhere.”

You saluted him and affected a serious face, resulting in him rolling his eyes at you again. But you left the whiskey bottle on the counter and took your glass of water into the living room with you. As you sunk down on the couch, you heard the shower turn on. You unwound the light scarf from around your neck and tossed it down carelessly. Daryl’s crossbow was sitting on the coffee table and you picked up one of the spare bolts from where it was laying on the table and spun it absently between your fingers. You collapsed back on the couch so you were laying out flat and stared up at the shapes of the shadows on the ceiling. They shifted a little as your vision seemed to spin. You planted a foot on the floor to ground yourself.

You knew it was stupid to get drunk… but sometimes you just wanted to try to forget.

That’s where Daryl found you when he came back out, now in his change of dry clothes. “Y/N?”

“Over here,” you said, still spinning his crossbow bolt between your fingers. He looked over the back of the couch at you, leaning on his forearms.

You smiled up at him, just a small one, but it sent his heart fluttering. He was always amazed that that smile was just for him.

“Well, I think I smell a bit less like pond now,” he drawled.

You leaned up on your elbow a little, ignoring the twinge in your ribs. You dramatically sniffed in his direction and he gave you a look. “Less pond,” you said. “For sure.”

Leaning up closed half the distance to Daryl as he looked down at you and you felt suddenly like the air was charged. Probably just the alcohol, you thought to yourself, gulping at the sudden lump in your throat.

Daryl felt it too and he suddenly couldn’t hold your gaze any longer, running away from the feeling. It was magnetic. But he told himself there was no possible way you were feeling the same thing and he straightened back up and just like that the electricity, the heaviness in the air evaporated.

You glanced down at his crossbow bolt in your hands with a fluttering in your chest. “Probably shouldn’t leave these lying around with a baby in the house, ya know,” you said, waggling the bolt at him.

“She ain’t crawling much yet. But yeah… you’re probably right.”

“It’s pretty amazing, isn’t it?” you said. Daryl gave you a questioning look, one eyebrow raised. “Judith.”

Daryl smiled and looked down at his hands on the back of the couch. “Ya. It is.” You liked the way his expression softened at the thought of her.

You strained to sit up straighter, an arm wrapping around your ribs. Daryl watched the tight expression of pain take your face over and then pass and he felt another hot flash of rage about what had been done to you outside the walls. And he had so many questions he wanted to ask you, so many worries… but you were so closed about it…

You spoke again, interrupting his thoughts. “You’re lucky. You have so many people, good people, and—they all obviously care about you. A lot.” Your voice was soft and Daryl finally looked up again and met your eyes with his. He felt a rush of nerves.

“Ya. Don’t make any damn sense, really,” he drawled.

“Makes perfect sense to me.”

Daryl felt those annoying butterflies flit to life in his stomach again. God, you hardly had to say anything, do anything for that to happen. What the hell was wrong with him? “Ya got people, too,” he said. “That care about ya.”

You let out a somewhat wry laugh. “I’ve got Aaron and Eric. Aaaand… that’s about it,” you said. You discarded his bolt back on the table.

“Nah. Ya got more than that.”

Daryl’s response drew your eyes back to his in surprise and you swore that his gaze was flitting between your eyes and your lips. Your lips parted slightly of their own accord. You felt suddenly breathless and the space between the two of you was charged again.

You gulped at the tightness in your throat suddenly and looked away, running scared. “I’m just—I’m not good at letting people in,” you whispered, not meaning it to come out so softly.

“And ya think I am?” Daryl laughed gruffly. “People have a way of gettin’ in anyway. If they want to.”

You were struggling to come up with something to say to that when the front door suddenly opened. Daryl straightened up and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. You suddenly remembered you weren’t the only two people in the world.

“Oh, good! Daryl, you’re—oh!” It was Carol. “I didn’t realize we had company!” Her voice had been much more relaxed, much lower when she first spoke, but her tone and face suddenly brightened when she realized you were there.

You climbed to your feet and gave her a tight smile. “I was just heading out actually. It’s late,” you said, shooting a glance over at Daryl. He rubbed a hand awkwardly over the back of his neck.

“Ya, alright. I’ll walk ya out,” he murmured. He could feel Carol watching the two of you all the way across the kitchen and up into the front hall.

You stopped in the entryway to turn and give him a small smile. “Thanks. For tonight,” you said quietly. He gave you a dumbfounded look.

“I didn’t do anything,” he murmured. “’Cept not kill ya after ya pushed me in the damn pond.”

You laughed at his confusion. “Yeah. You did.” You turned to leave but froze once again with your hand on the doorknob. “Oh—and you can tell Carol she can knock off the suburban sweetheart act with me, okay? I’m not buying it. I’ll see ya, Daryl. Goodnight.”

Daryl spun around to see Carol standing at the end of the hall, her eyes narrowed as she stared at the space you had just occupied. “Did ya hear—”

“Huh,” Carol interrupted. “Yeah. She’s the only person to figure that out so far.” She crossed her arms over her chest and nodded before looking back at the archer. “I like her.”

Daryl rolled his eyes. “Ya, she’s annoyingly observant. Rick tell ya she knew he was a cop immediately, too?”

“Well, sorry to interrupt your date,” she said with a small smile. “She didn’t have to leave just because I showed up.”

“Would ya quit?” he rasped gruffly. “Wasn’t a ‘date,’ alright? We’re just—” he shrugged and Carol raised her eyebrows at him knowingly.

“Wait—why is your hair all wet?” she asked, moving closer to Daryl.

He groaned and rolled his eyes again. “She fuckin’ pushed me into the damn pond,” he admitted in a low growl. Carol let out a loud guffaw.

“Oh, yeah. I definitely like her,” she said with a grin. “You should bring her around more often. Let everyone get to know her.”

Daryl rolled his eyes again and headed for the living room to collect his bow. “Quit tryin’a meddle, would ya?”

Carol laughed and tried to look affronted. “I haven’t done anything! God, you’re so sensitive,” she teased him. “What’s that?”

Daryl’s hand closed around your scarf, which you had discarded carelessly on the floor. “Y/N’s.”

“Little warm still for scarf weather isn’t it?” Carol asked, peering at it curiously.

“Ya. She was—she was wearin’ it because of the bruises on her neck. One of those assholes was—” he broke off as he remembered turning the corner and seeing the guy on top of you with his hands around your neck. He felt another hot flush of rage. “When we were outside the walls, one of ‘em was choking her. She’s got marks all around her neck. Probably didn’t want anyone else seein’ em.”

“God. I couldn’t see them in here. It’s too dark,” Carol muttered. “That’s horrible,” she said. Daryl nodded, feeling the soft fabric between his fingers.

“Mhm.” He gave one more nod to Carol. “G’night,” he said, heading immediately for his space in the basement, the scarf still dangling from his hand. He flopped down on his back on the bed, running the soft fabric between his fingers. His stomach was turning as he thought of you, that brilliant smile you gave up so rarely staying in his mind’s eye. He squeezed his eyes shut and chewed his bottom lip, trying to banish it. The hell were all these damn feelings? The archer finally let out a frustrated sigh and set your scarf down on his bedside table before putting out the flame of his lantern and rolling onto his side, chasing sleep.

[writertitan]

Midnight Snacks

pairing: eren x reader 

words: 2058

themes: college au, lots of fluff, eren being a little embarrassing with his gas station order 

requested by anon

Finals week had both you and Eren on high alert and in high panic. Truth be told, you didn’t need to really worry that much; you had prepared yourself for this all semester and had really kept up with your workload. Mostly, you were just stressed about the finals themselves and how, well, final they were. And so close together. A gift and a curse. You’d be done before finals week was even over. 

What really had you in a panic was Eren. The boy, bless his heart, was not apt for cramming. He’d kept up with his work like you had, but you knew him like the back of your hand; he was prone to leaving the harder things until the last minute. 

You glanced at your phone to check the time as Eren flipped back and forth between a page in his biology textbook, grumbling to himself under his breath. It was almost 12:30 in the morning and both of you had been at it all night, cramming and rememorizing things just to be prepared, and Eren especially was deep in concentration. You smiled to yourself as you watched his brows furrow even more than they already were, a feat you thought impossible. Just as you set your phone down to continue your own last-minute preparations, Eren sat up straight with a growl and pushed his textbook off your bed with his knee. 

“I feel like my head’s about to explode,” he complained, flopping over onto your lap. His eyes found yours immediately and he pouted as he reached up to stroke your cheek, then turned his head to glare at your textbook, as if personally offended by it, and pushed it off your bed to join his own. 

“Eren,” you whined, about to push his head off your lap, but he stopped you by reaching both hands up to cup your face. 

“C’mon, let’s just take a small break. We’re probably gonna be at this for a few more hours,” he said, fingers lightly caressing your jaw to entice you into going with his plan. You pondered it, then thought about arguing back with him about needing to study, but then realized he was probably right. All of this endless cramming with no break was just going to end up in you not retaining any of it. 

“Just a small break,” you relented, giving him a warning stare. He sat up, much brighter now, and pulled you off your bed immediately. He stretched his legs out and then reached his arms up to the ceiling for a full body stretch, already in a better mood. 

“Let’s go buy some snacks,” he suggested, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to pull you in. “That’ll help with the brain juice.” 

You hated Eren’s term, brain juice, but you knew he had a point. You had to keep up your energy. 

“Okay, let’s go to the vending machines and pick something out,” you said, moving to put some shoes on. 

“There’s a convenience store just down the street, babe. Please can we go? Your dorm’s vending machines aren’t gonna cut it,” he said, the pout back again. You rolled your eyes playfully but again relented, happy to just get out of your dorm room for a second. 

“Okay, fine. But you’re not supposed to be here, remember? It’s way past visiting hours. We have to be so sneaky,” you said, voice already lowering to a whisper. If you’re RA found out you’d been holing Eren up in your dorm well past 10pm, she was going to lose her mind. 

Eren made a show of zipping his lips and acting stealthy, which made you snort. You grabbed his hand after putting on shoes and jackets, and carefully slipped out to start your trek to the convenience store. 

You had to admit, it was a nice idea. And Eren was right, your vending machines didn’t hold a candle to all the other savory treats you really wanted. 

The night was a little breezy, but the impending summer weather kept the spring chill at bay. Eren had your hand engulfed in his, fingers laced as he swung your hands lightly, other hand messing with his loose bun. The night wrapped around him beautifully, streetlights casting glows that defined the most handsome parts of his face. 

He caught you staring after a minute of him being deep in thought, and you flashed him a mischievous grin which he returned.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he teased, the lame phrase making you giggle. 

“Okay,” you said cheerily, which took him off guard. You pulled your hand from his and giggled again at his confusion, before moving to stand behind him, hands reaching up to grasp his shoulders and give a small tug to make him stop walking. He knew immediately what you were getting at and crouched down enough to let you hop on, catching you easily and gripping your thighs as you wrapped an arm around your shoulders. Your other hand reached into your pocket to pull out your phone and you wasted no time in pulling up the camera app, jutting your arm out so you could capture Eren’s face right next to yours, the two of you flashing cheesy and ridiculous smiles as you snapped the picture. The automatic flash activated due to the low lighting and Eren whined and blinked, squeezing his eyes shut as the flash went off. 

When you looked at the end result, you showed Eren with a pleased laugh. You looked fine, all smiles and bright eyes. Eren, on the other hand, had blinked a little too soon. His eyes were shut, eyebrows raised, a dopey grin on his face that matched yours. 

“Delete that,” he complained, letting go of one thigh to try to reach for your phone. You were too fast, however, and eased it back into your jacket pocket. “Babe, delete it!”

“Nope! That’s my new favorite picture of us.” 

“I’m not buying you any snacks once we get there.” 

A lie, completely. If anything, Eren would play the little devil on your shoulder and egg you on in just a few minutes, into making not-so-smart choices. Why choose between the chocolate and the gummies when you can have both? 

You moved to hop off once you were in front of the store, but Eren’s grip tightened on your thighs. You angled your head to give him a confused glance, which he ignored, but he turned his head to peck your lips. 

“We’ll be quick. You’ll be my hands,” he said, and you rolled your eyes at his words, but hid your big smile into his shoulder. You knew he could feel the way your lips turned up over the thin fabric of his jacket and even thinner shirt. 

“Alright, what do you want?” you asked him, letting him lead you where you knew he’d go first: the Lunchables. 

“Ham and cheese and crackers, please,” he requested, but you already knew that and were grabbing at it with one hand. He kissed your wrist as a thank you and then asked, “Okay, what are we getting you? The usual?” 

“Yes, please,” you hummed, nuzzling into his neck as he made his way over to your preferred snack of choice. And, after grabbing two drinks, your hands absolutely full, you made your way to the counter to pay. The clerk gave you a bored look, not at all interested in the sight in front of him, and rang up your items slowly and announced your total. 

A contest as always, you and Eren both reached for your wallets. He somehow managed to be quicker, mostly because you were trying your best not to lose your balance as you held onto him with one arm and fished around for money with the other, and you grumbled as he paid for both of you. 

You held onto the bag as you exited the convenience store, again trying to hop off, and again being secured in place by Eren’s tight grip. 

“Aren’t you getting tired?” you asked him, genuinely curious, but Eren nearly guffawed at the question. 

“Are you joking? I wouldn’t even consider this a warm-up, babe. Carrying Jean’s blacked-out ass home after a party, though... that’ll make me break a sweat. I don’t know how he’s so fucking heavy.” 

You giggled, vividly remembering one of those times, and you rested your head on Eren’s shoulder after letting a yawn slip out. 

“I wish we didn’t have to go back to studying after this,” you pouted, pressing a pouty kiss into Eren’s shoulder. “I hate finals.” 

“Let’s eat our snacks before we get back to it,” Eren compromised. “My brain still feels heavy with knowledge. I gotta let it soak it all up.” 

“Always saying the weirdest things,” you teased him, squealing at the pinch on your thigh. 

Sneaking up to your dorm room was as easy as sneaking out, and you pulled Eren for a quick kiss as soon as the door locked behind you. You tossed the bag onto your bed and then began fishing your snacks out once your shoes and jacket were off and you were both able to situate more comfortably on your bed. Eren held you in his lap as he leaned back against your wall and browsed through his phone, the two of you watching dumb compliations on YouTube while you snacked. It was nice to turn your brain off just for a while, to rest up and come back to studying rejuvenated. 

His hand would occasionally sneak up your neck and grab at your hair, lightly massaging your scalp as he pressed tender kisses to your temple. You shared your snacks and really took your time with finishing, letting yourselves soak in your study break. 

“Thanks for making me take a break,” you told him, leaning your head back against his chest. “I forget sometimes.” 

“I know you do,” Eren chuckled, squeezing you into a hug and pressing you into his chest even more. He noticed yet another suppressed yawn from you and hummed in acknowledgement, and you knew what he was going to say before he said it. 

“I can’t go to sleep, I have to keep studying,” you said, beating him to it. 

“You’re studying for your final tomorrow and it’s not even until noon. You know a really important habit before taking a big test is to get enough sleep before it.” 

Damn it. You hated when he used logic against you. 

“Fine, but just a nap,” you grumbled, sitting up to grab at your trash and discard it in your bin. You set an alarm and gave Eren a tired smile. “I’m gonna drag you down with me, though. You need to sleep too.” 

Eren scoffed, his voice a little panicked when he spoke again. “No way. Unlike you, I have to cram. I’m nowhere near ready for my final tomorrow.” 

“Yours isn’t until the afternoon,” you pointed out, hitting him back with the logic he’d used on you. “Like you said, a good habit is to get plenty of sleep before a test.” 

Eren sighed, but you could tell he wasn’t going to argue with you. He looked just as tired as you and the two of you arranged yourselves in your cramped bed to doze off, if only for a little bit. 

His hands found your hair and he played with it softly as you both curled up into one another. 

“Love you,” he murmured, drowsy already, and you smiled to yourself, head on his chest with your hand tracing loving circles at his torso. 

“Love you too,” you answered, warming at the soft touch of his hand on your chin. He tilted your head up to steal a quick kiss to your lips, then to your nose. You closed your eyes and let yourself relax, about to really drift off when you felt Eren shift under you. 

Your ears picked up the quiet sounds of Eren taking your phone from your nightstand. You peeked an eye open, careful to stay quiet lest you arouse suspicion, and resisted the urge to let a huge grin overcome you as you watched him go to your camera roll, tap on the ridiculous picture you’d taken earlier, and send it to himself. 

[delimeful]

to taste your beating heart (5)

warnings: blood, miscommunication, imprisonment, arguing

-

Logan met Virgil-- Anx’s eyes over Patton’s shoulder, and watched as his gaze went from bewildered to guarded in half a second.

In the next moment, Anx had shoved out sharply, pushing Patton away from him hard enough to make him stumble back a few steps-- just far enough to be outside the protective ward, Logan noted. 

As though to cover up the fact that he’d just stripped himself of a potential hostage, Anx stiffened up to his full height, fangs bared at them all.

“Careful!” Roman snapped in an eerie parody of Virgil’s normal catchphrase, rising to his feet as Patton narrowly avoided overbalancing.

“No, no,” Patton said, wiping at his eyes without any shame, “it’s my fault, I should have asked first. I always get kind of emotional after thralls break. My apawlegies, Anx.” He accented the words with a flap of his cat hoodie sleeve.

Logan had time to notice the way Anx’s face twisted-- a mix of confusion-amusement-wariness that was familiar from Virgil’s first weeks working with them-- before Roman cut in with a startled shout.

“The thrall is broken?!” he squawked, head whipping back and forth between Patton and Anx. “Since when?”

“None of your business,” snapped Anx.

“Pretty much as soon as I walked in!” cheered Patton, at the exact same time. He paused. “Whoops, sorry, Anx! Did you want that to be... confangdential?”

“Boo,” Roman called, instantly distracted by the bad wordplay, “That was a reach.”

Logan let his audible facepalm speak for itself. “Out of the way, please, Patton.”

Patton obligingly shuffled to the side, and with every step closer Logan took, Anx folded inwards like a snake rearing back to strike. Seeing Virgil’s body bracing for the worst at his approach made something in Logan’s chest pang oddly, but luckily he was well practiced at ignoring such things.

Once at the edge of the circle, he crouched and inspected the activation key. As expected, nothing was out of place. Logan doubted Anx had been awake long enough to even consider tampering with the circle, let alone attempt it.

Now that the ash had cooled, the spell would be vulnerable to outside influence. It wasn’t as big of a concern anymore, seeing as the thrall on Patton had been removed, but Logan wasn’t one to leave things half-done.

… Also, if left unattended, Patton would probably free the vampire without telling anyone even without being under thrall.

Logan set his palm on the activation key and nonverbally cast a warming spell, reactivating the part of the spell that singed any unauthorized fingers messing with his circle. He could add the warming charm into the circle’s layout later, when there wasn’t a twitchy vampire watching his every move.

Despite his efforts to make his spellcasting subtler than usual, Anx still seemed to go still and stiff like hunted prey when the change in the spell sent a mild warmth into the air around them. Those uncanny purple eyes flickered between all three of the hunters for a moment, and then seemed to settle for glaring at nothing.

“So, Draculame, what prompted the sudden change of heart?” Roman asked, arms crossed over his chest.

His tone wasn’t as accusatory as before, but Anx’s bristling only increased, likely at the nickname. It had taken a while for Virgil to realize Roman’s ruder habits weren’t mean-spirited. It seemed like Anx would have to relearn that.

Provided they got that far.

Shaking the rather grim thought away, Logan tilted his head at the vampire. “I’m admittedly curious as well.”

Anx hissed at them, which they probably should have expected. It probably said something about their friend that this had already been standard Virgil behavior before he’d been turned. It was almost nostalgic.

“Now, kiddos, let’s not vamptagonize him!” Patton cut in firmly, ignoring their groans. “It’s almost dawn, so how about we call it close enough to morning and have some breakfast? I’ll make pat-cakes!”

He swanned out of the room without waiting for an answer, nearly hip checking the doorframe as he went. For a moment, Logan half-expected to see Virgil fall in a half-step behind him, like a particularly emo shadow. The absence was jarring.

“He hasn’t slept tonight,” he finally said, capturing Roman’s attention. “Make sure he doesn’t use salt instead of sugar?”

“And meanwhile you will be…?” Roman prompted doubtfully. Logan rolled his eyes.

“Figuring out a way for Anx to safely move to the kitchen, as Patton no doubt wants him there,” he replied, raising a hand to forestall any protests. “I took precautions.”

Roman threw his hands up dramatically, shot Anx a warning glare, and then turned to leave.

“Ugh. There goes my appetite,” he grumbled as he stormed out the door.

Logan allowed himself a sigh and then turned to face Anx. The vampire was still staring at him oddly. “I will be placing a pair of enchanted cuffs on you. They have no chains and they will not hurt you, but if you move against any of us with malicious intent, they will freeze in place.”

“And what am I supposed to do if you move against me?” he challenged automatically, lip curling. “Stand there and take it?”

“The cuffs will not stop you from running or hiding,” Logan told him, “and you’ve proven yourself to be skilled at both of those things in the past 48 hours. None of us are planning on attacking you, but you will have options regardless.”

This wasn’t how he would have reassured Virgil, but this wasn’t the Virgil he knew, the one that trusted him. He couldn’t soothe Anx’s cognitive distortions, not when he was barely more than a stranger.

He retrieved the shiny black cuffs from a nearby cabinet. They hadn’t had a thrall aggressive enough to use them on in months. “If you’ll put your wrists forward, we can proceed. Otherwise, Patton will be bringing breakfast to you, and I’d prefer not to get syrup or blood all over this room.”

Anx eyed him warily for another few moments, but eventually Logan’s patience paid off, and he stuck his wrists out with a growl. Logan reached past the barrier without any trouble and clicked the first one into place. Before he could proceed with the second, Anx’s hand flipped around and grabbed onto Logan’s wrist tightly.

Logan’s head jerked up to meet Anx’s gaze, already shifting his weight to counter a pull, but the vampire didn’t move further, just stared at him intently. “I know what you are.”

He clearly expected some kind of dramatic reaction, but Logan wasn’t in the habit of those, particularly not for such vague accusations. “If you’ll specify?”

“You’re a witch,” Anx said. “I saw you tamper with the circle without any instruments. You have natural magic.”

Logan felt his stomach sink slightly. Logically, he knew that this wasn’t the Virgil he knew, but it still made something in him twist to think of any version of Virgil blackmailing him over his magical heritage. “And what of it?” he asked, as lightly as he could.

“You’re living in the same house as hunters. You’re doing magic right under their noses, you’re going to get yourself killed!” Anx scolded, sounding more like Virgil with every word. “Do you need help getting out?”

Logan wasn’t entirely sure what sort of face he made in response to this endearingly dense offer, but it was apparently enough to make Anx frown with uncertainty. He held a hand out for his other wrist and clicked the cuff on it without any problems, and then deactivated the circle with a simple gesture of his hand over the key.

Anx’s eyes flicked to the door, and Logan tried not to think about him darting out into the early morning sun. He turned and headed to the door.

“Follow me, and you’ll get your answer.”

While traversing the halls, Logan resisted the persistent urge to check behind him. Gone were the slight shuffled footsteps that had previously accompanied Virgil’s presence, replaced by Anx’s supernatural silence, as though he was gliding over the floor without even touching it.

He entered the kitchen, where Patton had evidently wrangled Roman into setting the table. Whether the four plates set out were out of habit or Roman reluctantly accepting Anx’s presence at the table, Logan wasn’t sure.

He cleared his throat, making both of them look up from attempting to draw funny faces with the pancake batter.

“Observe,” he instructed, and then drew a sigil in the air and lit a simple flame in his hand. Behind him, he could practically hear Anx go as stiff as a board.

“Are we showing off?” Roman asked, a bit excited but completely unsurprised. “Should I perform a monologue?”

“Great spell, Lo! No arson in the house, though,” Patton added in a bright chirp. “After all, I have enough ar-sons here already!”

Logan doused the flame by clenching a fist, giving Patton a Look that went blithely ignored. “You two are incorrigible. That was a simple demonstration.”

He turned to Anx, who looked a little shell shocked.

“As we’ve informed you, ‘hunter’ is a title that we use mostly for convenience and ease of access to jobs. We help magical beings just as often as average humans, if not more frequently.”

“We tried out ‘Protectors of the Innocent’ for a while, but it never really caught on for some reason,” Roman added, subtly sneaking a piece of bacon from the serving plate while Patton’s back was turned.

“Perhaps it would have worked better if someone hadn’t only put P.I. on all the business cards, resulting in us being mistaken for Private Investigators and all of our calls being about spousal infidelity for a solid two months,” Logan snarked back, moving past them to retrieve the orange juice from the fridge.

“The printing office charged by the letter!” Roman protested, and then recoiled from the countertop as his next attempt at sneaking ended with his fingers smacked mercilessly. “Augh! Forsaken by those dearest to me! What cruelty!”

“No sympathy for bacon thieves,” Patton chided, wielding his spatula like an instrument of mass destruction. “Go sit!”

Logan seated himself as well, and turned to Anx, who had been watching the banter play out from the doorway with a somewhat dazed expression. “You’re welcome to sit. Patton will likely insist on it, actually.”

“You people,” he enunciated slowly, “are crazy.”

“You get used to it,” Logan assured him with the certainty of someone who had heard this exact phrase from Virgil before. He checked his watch. “It has been some time since you last ate. I can retrieve some stored blood from our refrigerator.”

“Actually,” Patton set a plate stacked high with pancakes in the center of the table with a plonk, “I figured I could just be Anx’s donor for a while!”

Roman, who had just stolen a sip of Logan’s orange juice, did a movie-perfect spit take, and Patton slid the pancake stack swiftly out of range of the spray.

“It will be 55 days before you are viable for another blood donation,” Logan recited the fact automatically, but he was just as thrown off as Roman.

“Not if he drinks from me directly!” Patton retorted, a beacon of cheerful composure.

“What?” All three of them replied, at varying levels of screech.

Anx shot a wild-eyed look at the room at large and took a step back, as though physically distancing himself from the idea.

“Patton, you can’t be serious!” Roman pushed his chair back and stood, looking distraught. “Fangs For The Memories over here might look like Virgil, but he’s proven quite thoroughly that he’s not! We just got you un-thralled, clearly he can’t be trusted not to take advantage of you!”

Logan noticed Anx wince, though he couldn’t tell whether it was from the harsh assessment or Virgil’s name being spoken.

“Me not being thralled anymore is exactly why we can trust him not to hurt me,” Patton said, chin tilted up stubbornly. “He doesn’t know what he did wrong, but he fixed it anyway! That’s more than good enough in my book.”

“Well, maybe your book needs some copyediting!” Roman snapped back, exasperated. “So his unbeating heart isn’t as completely shriveled up as it originally seemed! So what? That doesn’t change the fact that he was the one who thralled you in the first place!”

Logan cut in, physically moving between them to break up the beginnings of a shouting match.

“I have to agree that this is a bad idea, for a multitude of reasons,” he started, raising a quelling hand before Patton could protest. “The matter of Anx’s trustworthiness aside, you shouldn’t be directly donating blood to any vampire. It is an unnecessary risk to your mental and emotional well being.”

“Thank you,” Roman said, apparently keen to seize allies where he could. He gestured expansively, looking at Patton with earnest eyes. “You’ve come so far, Pat. We don’t want to see any of your hard work undone. Virgil wouldn’t want that either; you know he’d fight this harder than any of us.”

Patton’s face had softened at their-- Roman’s sentimental worrying, but even bringing Virgil into it couldn’t sway his determined course.

“I know you guys just want me safe, but this is something I need to do. Even if it is a risk, I can’t be held down by this fear forever. And who better to help me than Anx!”

“Literally anyone who hasn’t threatened to kill everyone here in the last 48 hours,” Roman moaned, dragging his hands down his face.

“Besides,” Patton continued, undeterred, “this way we don’t have to worry about our emergency transfusion supply going low! It just makes sense.”

Logan had to begrudgingly agree. Between the hassle of trying to explain why they suddenly needed significantly more blood and the fact that a vampire drinking directly would replenish blood cells at a much higher rate than drawing blood, the best option really was to have a direct donor. He simply didn't want it to be Patton.

Unfortunately, his odds of actually being able to stop Patton were quite low.

“Nothing about any of this makes sense,” Anx grumbled, having retreated to the hall like a skittish feral cat.

The vampire seemed almost more unsettled by the idea than either of the other objecting parties, despite being the only one who directly benefited from the hypothetical arrangement. Nervous about their responses if he agreed, perhaps?

“We can at least give it a shot!” Patton insisted, coming a little closer to Anx and reaching out to gently pat his shoulder. It spoke volumes that the touch wasn't brushed off or rejected. “It could end up helping us both! And if it doesn’t, we’ll just find another way! You won’t be in trouble for messing up, okay?”

Anx blinked, slowly, still looking somewhat unconvinced that this was reality. Still, after a few moments of exposure to Patton’s encouraging smile, he dipped his head in a nod.

“Okay.”

[inyourwildestdreamslove]

Tell Me No Secrets: Chapter 9

Pairing: Steve Harrington X Reader X Billy Hargrove

Begins in Season 2.

Summary: You thought you escaped the world of science experiments and torture when you walk out of that lab. However, high school has other plans, somehow you end up as unlikely friends and love interests to the two most desired boys in school. Not to mention monsters from another dimension and a little girl named El from your past that just won’t seem to leave you alone. Maybe that lab wasn’t as bad as you thought, at least there people left you alone.

Masterlist

Chapter 9: The Captured

The trees are a blur as the car roars forward. The bewildered and angry faces of Dustin and Steve in the rearview mirror sparks a twinge of guilt. It’s better this way though, they don’t need to be involved. It’s bad enough that Max and Billy are involved. Groaning as the two men in the car pull out behind Billy but in front of Steve. You can feel how startled Steve is and his growing panic as he realizes what’s happening. 

Billy glances behind him and growls out, “Friends of yours?” 

“Something like that…” you say absentmindedly as you assess the situation behind you. 

Realizing that they have far more information than you would like punches you in the gut as town quickly approaches. 

You make a decision.

“Pull over.”

The order hangs in the air. 

“Are you crazy?!” Max yells, pulling herself forward in the seat, “They’ll catch you!”

“That’s the point,” you say emotionlessly as you regard her. 

“No!”

“What is going on here!?” Billy yells angrily beside you.

“They’re going to take her!” Max screams turning to Billy, “You can’t stop! She’s going to give herself up to save us!”

“Fuck that,” Billy says as he revs the engine and makes an abrupt turn to the right. The car behind you all skids but makes the turn at the last minute. 

“You need to let me do this,” you say calmly. 

“Like Hell I do!” he says rage in his voice. 

You huff in annoyance, “They will succeed, if not today, someday.”

“Then it’s not going to be today,” Billy says, taking another abrupt turn trying to throw them off your trail. 

“You need to let me do this,” you say matter of factly.

The alleyway you find yourselves in is a dead end. Billy curses and slams his hands on the steering wheel as you get out of the car. 

“No!” Max yells as you exit the car, Billy reaching for you a moment too late. 

You turn to the men, each of them pointing a gun at you. Steve pulls up behind them a moment later and grabs his bat from the back seat. 

“Steve… Don’t…” you murmur tiredly. 

“They can’t have you!” Steve yells.

“It’s okay…” you soothe them.

“So you’re coming quietly?” questions one of the men. 

“Yes.”

“Good choice,” the other murmurs as he pulls the trigger. 

The panic from those around you is palpable as you fall to the floor the dart sticking out of your neck. Steve and Billy make to run towards you before they turn to the men and to rush them. 

With the last of your strength your message echoes in their minds, “Don’t forget…”

***

Horror fills them as they watch her fall to the ground. Her eyes roll back into her head and everything goes silent before the rush of rage brings everyone snapping back to reality. Billy pulls back and punches the nearest man as a tranquilizer dart flies towards him. Steve falls next his bat rolling uselessly to the side. Max and Dustin panic and scream as they rush to Steve and Billy. 

Max whips around in just enough time to see the two men haul her up and throw her limp body in the back seat of the car. Methodically, as if kidnapping is second nature to these monsters, they move Steve’s car. Dustin is struggling to pull Steve out of the way. 

Max cries out in sadness, feeling helpless, as her friend vanished from sight around the bend. She’s left with her unconscious brother and a panicking Dustin.

“What do we do!?” Yells Dustin snapping Max from her shock.

“I don’t know!” She yells back, anger masking her fear. 

“We have to do something!” Dustin yells as he paces back and forth. He would periodically rake his fingers through his hair. 

“Like what!?” Max screeches back fists flying to her side in rage and frustration.

With no small amount of effort the two preteens drag their older and heavier brother figures into Billy’s car. The two young men are slumped together unceremoniously in the back seat as Max takes the wheel of Billy’s car. 

“Are you sure about this?” Dustin asks, hesitation clear in his voice. The memory of the last time Max drove clear in his mind.

“Zoomer. Remember?,” She says pointing at herself in confidence, “Besides, you didn’t die last time,” she says flipping her hair over her shoulder.

“It was dark last time! No one was on the road! It’s the middle of the morning!” Dustin argues crossing his arms.

“Stop being such a baby! It’ll be fine!” She exclaims, frustration seeping into her voice. 

With that, she starts up the car and nervously pulls out onto the road. Slowly the preteens make their way to the police station. Not without many near misses and loud honks of other drivers. 

The preteens jump from the vehicle and rush into the police station yelling for Hopper as they do so.

“What are you two doing here? Why aren’t you in school?” Hopper asks in bewilderment coming out of his office. The receptionist unable to control the duo before her. 

“They took (Name)!” Both Max and Dustin yell in a panic turning towards the confused chief of police. 

***

When you wake up you are strapped to a chair with a helmet over your head. Your head is completely silent for the first time in your life, and if you weren’t concerned with figuring a way out of this, you would be enjoying it more. The room is dark save for the single fluorescent light in the very center of the room. There are one-way windows on one side of the room and you can practically feel the eyes of the people on the other side. 

A man that you recognize from your childhood enters the room and regards you as a science experiment. He’s wearing a brown suit with a cigarette dangling from his mouth. He hasn’t changed much except for the now graying hair on his balding head. 

“Three… How have you been? You are quite the sneaky little thing aren’t you?” he asks conversationally as he sits down across from you at the table.

Your answer is an emotionless gaze. You can feel yourself retreating back into your mind as the man in front of you regards you the same way as so many years ago. Like an experiment, as if you are less than him. 

“Where have you been hiding all this time, hmmm? With Melanie Snow perhaps?” he quips pulling the cigarette from his lips. The smell burns your nostrils as he releases a puff of smoke. 

You feel your chest constrict as he mentions her name. 

“I see you’ve made friends with a Steve Harrington? A Dustin Henderson? A Maxine Mayfield? A William Hargrove?”

“They aren’t my friends, they are annoyances,” you answer monotonously. 

“Annoyances?” he sounds almost amused.

“Yes… If it wasn’t for them your lackeys would be dead,” you spit the words at the man fire in your eyes as you regard him coolly. 

“Dead, you say? You would do that?” he asks leaning forward on his elbows.

“I’m not a child anymore,” your voice is ice.

“No… I suppose not… However, we will be picking up where we left off. Perhaps we will see the results that we want after all this time.”

With that, he gets up and leaves the room. You keep your mind calm and clear as you access the situation you are in. 

It’s not long before a couple of men in white come into the room and push you from the chair. Their handling is far rougher than it should be as you walk down the hallway. You can hear the cries of a few children, but you keep your face void of any emotion. The room they take you to is the same one from your childhood. You see the number three on the wall and suppress a shudder. You are shoved inside, but before the door is shut you turn to the man behind you and lock eyes with him. 

“You know… cheating on your wife when she’s pregnant with your child is disgusting.”

The look on his face as the door closes is priceless.

***

“We have to help her!” yells Dustin as he paces the living room floor of (Name)’s house.

“Can Elle find her?” questions Steve his hand in his hair as he sits on the couch. 

“Damnit!” curses Billy as he punches the arm of the chair he’s in, “What good is this?” 

Steve and Billy had woken up in a panic upon realizing what happened. They had given their statement to Hopper, who had been very displeased that Max had driven to the police station while the boys were unconscious, but that’s a talk for another day. They went to break the news to Melanie which is how they found themselves setting up camp in the Snow living room. 

“Hey just calm down man! We’re going to figure something out!” Clenching his teeth against the pain in his head. The tranquilizer making his head pound with the leftover drugs still coursing through him. 

“Well, what can this Elle girl do?” he rounds on him anger radiating off of his person.

“More than you!” yells Dustin.

“Hey! Yelling about everything isn’t going to solve this!” yells Max. 

“She’s right…” laments Melanie, “She’s going to have to get herself out of this.”

“But Elle can-” Dustin begins.

“She would be putting herself in danger!” Hopper interrupts, “You don’t know how they found her, they could do the same to Elle.”

“We can’t just do nothing!” yells Billy as he stands up from his seat and takes a step towards Hopper. 

“I’m not risking Elle being found. That doesn’t mean we aren’t going to do anything.” Hopper holds his stare until Billy backs down. 

“Why do you care anyway?” Dustin asks looking over at Billy in confusion.

“Why do I-?” he looks angrily at Dustin, “Because-” He trails off looking unsure of himself for just a moment before his anger covers it up. “None of your business twerp!” 

“Will everyone just calm down?” Yells Hopper trying to maintain peace. 

“How?! How are we supposed to do that?” Asks Dustin shaking his head in frustration.

“Can someone just do something?!” screeches Melanie before she collapses to the floor crying. 

Everyone is silent as they regard her, each of them thinking the same thing...

‘But what can we do?’

***

The next few days you sit quietly in your old room listening. Your powers while not entirely snuffed out are muffled and it isn’t long until the helmet is replaced with another stronger one. You don’t mind as much they think you do as you feign sleep all the while listening. 

It’s in sleep that you feel him though. He’s frantic and angry and feels very alone. 

You can’t blame yourself for this. You say calmly regarding him. 

His eyes widen when he sees you sitting there on his bed. 

“You got out?!” he says getting up and coming towards you.

No… I am still there…

“How are you able to…?”

We have a connection Billy… Perhaps it’s our emotions that bind us… We understand hurt better than most…

“You let them take you!” he explodes, “You could have fought them! We could have fought them! Max is… Max is really upset! And damn Harrington! He- Damn it!” He yells angrily picking up a can of hairspray and throwing it against the wall.

It had to happen…

“No, it didn’t! I could have… done something... protected you…” He sits down on the bed defeated, his elbows resting on his knees.

You’re silent for a moment, ‘There are bigger things at play than you understand. They would not stop and I had to think of more than just myself…’

“Bullshit.”

Tell them not to worry… 

“Not to worry?!” he yells, “You’ve been captured by some freak show scientists, and no one is supposed to worry?!” he jumps up from the bed and towers over you breathing heavily in his rage.

You regard him silently with the same patience that you always have. 

Trust me…

With that, you vanish from his mind. Blinking you are abruptly woken up by the sound of a little metal flap swinging as food is shoved into your cell. You sigh as you glare at the hard bread and porridge that is sitting in the bowl. It’s important that you keep your strength up though it’s imperative to your plan. You pick up the tray and begin to eat.

***

“What do you mean you saw her?” Steve asks, disbelief clear in his voice. He hadn’t been sure what to think when Billy asked to meet him behind the school, but this wasn’t what he expected. 

“I told you! I saw her okay?! I don’t get it either!” Billy yells all while trying to keep his voice down. He doesn’t need anyone seeing him and Harrington talking behind the school, too many questions. 

“But why did you see her and not me? I’m her friend!” Steve says defensively and maybe a little jealously. Why were you talking to Billy and not him?

“I’m her friend too! You aren’t the only one!” 

“Yeah right! What have you ever done for her huh?” 

“She-” Billy looks away from Steve. He can’t know…

“She what?” Steve presses, voice going lower in a warning. 

“None of your business! Look, I just wanted to know if that makes any sense to you!”

“I mean… she’s special… you know…” Steve says uncertainty clear in his voice. 

“Yeah, I know she is…” Billy says remembering the day you casually told him you were going to help him.

“So what do we do?” Steve asks.

“She said to trust her…” Billy says trailing off in thought. 

“If she contacts you again see if she knows where she is. We’re going to get her back,” Steve says with finality. “Truce?” he asks holding his hand out to Billy. 

Billy regards it for a moment before he nods, “Truce.”

The two young men clasp hands in a firm handshake, both trying to have a tighter grip as they shake on it. 

“What are you trying to do? Break my hand?!” Steve yells.

“You’re such a wuss Harrington!” Billy laughs as he pulls back.

“Wuss?! You face a Demogorgon and tell me who the wuss is!”

“What the fuck is a Demogorgon?” 

“You have a lot to learn Hargrove. A lot.”

***

You feel yourself growing stronger every day. And among the quiet in your mind, you’ve noticed something else. You can tap into emotions and you spend the next few days wreaking havoc on the workers of the lab. You cause anger outbursts, crying spells, and lust to run rampant. Papers are thrown to the floor in a rage and balled up in fits of uncertainty. You plant lies in their minds with the simplest of sentences. If you didn’t know any better you would say you’re having fun. 

“It seems we’ve underestimated you…” Carl Watt says from his position in front of you. He adjusts the button on his ugly suit jacket as he sits down before you.

You just regard him blankly as silence rings throughout the room.

“You have caused quite a few problems for us. Are you having fun?” he asks patiently as if speaking to his six-year-old daughter who made a mess in the kitchen. 

You gaze down at the steel table in front of you, eyes unseeing as you creep in his mind. 

“If you don’t cooperate there will be consequences.”

Again you are silent at his threat. 

“After all we wouldn’t want anything to happen to your friends would we?”

You fight the reaction. The flinch. The twitch. The way your mind screams at the man before you in rage. You give him nothing as you continue to gaze down at the table, the silence stretching long and cold in the sterile room. 

“You think you’re fooling anyone? Teenage girls are so easy. You all have the same weakness. Emotions. Boys. Attention. You are not nearly as complex as you believe you are.”

You finally raise your head to look squarely in his eyes, your own void of any emotion as you regard him. 

“You think you’re fooling anyone?” You mimic, “Men are so easy. You all have the same weakness. Power. Lust. Control. You are not nearly as complex as you believe you are.”

Carl looks enraged as his fist flies onto the table. Instead of flinching as he wanted, you merely tilt your head to one side and regard him in boredom. 

“And you said teenage girls are emotional. You should really have better control than that,” you say calmly. 

“Get her out of here,” he says through clenched teeth. 

Walking back to your cell you sense it suddenly. A tickle in your mind. You snap your head to the side and hear it plain as day.

They know.

They found it.

The door. The door. The door!

There is panic in the words and in the mind. 

He’s fourteen with dark hair and wild green eyes. You remember him vaguely from when you were here before. 

Show!

You collapse as the boy enters your mind and you are thrown into a dream. 

Billy is in a car accident. He’s pulled into a void. The screams are too much. 

You try to pull away from him. To break away from his hold on you. 

Bait.

The creature that fills the sky is terrifying. Black and everywhere. It fills your mind and you know in your heart that this isn’t over. That the Upside Down is beating at the door. 

Wait…

You gasp as you are thrown back into your head. The haunted green eyes of the boy down the hall filling your vision. 

“Get up!” yells the guard. 

You are kicked roughly in the side as you double over again. The other reaches down and grabs your hair dragging you up to your feet. 

“Not so tough without your powers are you?” spits the guard.

You blink and reorient yourself before you wipe the blood from your nose. You can feel him at the edge of your conscience. 

Bad men… bad…

‘Yes…’ you think to him, ‘Bad men…’

Out?

He pauses for a breath as you are thrown back into your cell. 

Out out out???

‘Soon.’

The thought seems to soothe him as his mind quiets and he drifts off to sleep. Vaguely, you wonder if he even knows how to talk. His mind is less fragmented than you originally thought though. You can use that to your advantage. 

 ***

Billy opens his eyes to see you standing before him.

I need you to be ready.

“For what?” he asks instantly alert and sitting up, “Ready for what?”

The moment I expose them…

“What do you need us to do?”

The old base is where I’m being kept. Elle knows where. I will need a distraction in precisely three days’ time. You need to listen very carefully to my instructions. In a glass bottle mix carbon disulfide, phosphorus, and sulfur with a metal lid. This solution is highly flammable if exposed to air.

“What do you want us to do with that?”

I want to burn this place to the ground.

Notes:

I know! Such a long time coming! Concentrating has been difficult even with inspiration for this story! The next chapter will probably be the final chapter for this story, but never fear! I'll begin work on "I'll Tell You No Lies" the sequel to this story set in S3 of Stranger Things! There may be a little short in between this story and that one because I have such affection for this weird triangle between MC, Billy, and Steve. Please drop a comment to tell me your thoughts!

[moldisgoodforyou]

home again

wordcount: 7.9k

warnings: brief smut moment, mentions of sexual content

________

Rafe double, triple-checked their plane tickets when they went back home from Rome. They’d bought them separately but somehow he was convinced he’d screwed it up again - when he reached for his phone a fourth time on the train to the airport, Sophie reached over and took it with a shake of her head.

After making it through security and buying two breakfast sandwiches for them, Rafe tucked his backpack under her feet. “Can you watch this for a second?”

“Yeah, where are you going?” Sophie asked curiously.

“I’ll be right back.” He answered vaguely, kissing her forehead. When he returned, he had an entire bag full of Italian snacks and candies, all indecipherable except for a small bag of dark chocolate M&Ms that he tossed at Sophie. Her face lit up as she caught it and realized. “Oh my god, I missed these.”

He grinned and slid into the seat next to her, dumping the snacks into his backpack. “I know you did. I figured we could try these on the plane, for some entertainment.”

“I’m not gonna be able to sleep.” She tore open the packet and poured some into her hand before offering it to him.

He accepted a few, but not too much more. “Good, you said we weren’t supposed to sleep. We’ll be all jetlagged.”

“But I’m tired.” She whined, dropping her head to his shoulder.

Rafe pressed a kiss to the top of her head, lowering his voice. “Maybe you shouldn’t have convinced me to sleep with you last night then. Until 3am.”

She blushed and shot him an indignant glare. “You started it in the shower.”

“You dropped to your knees in the shower first.” He smirked. “This is your fault.”

“Nothing is ever my fault.” She declared. “You’re just too hot, that’s all.”

“Uh huh.” The airport called for boarding over the speakers and he hauled her up, pulling out their passports and walked with her to the line. He paused when she moved forward. “Wait, Sophie, aren’t we sitting together?”

“No, I’m 23A.”

“And I’m 23B - wait, no, shit, I’m not.” He frowned and glanced down at his ticket. “I’ll fix this.”

“Rafe, you don’t have to -”

Her argument fell on deaf ears as he went forward, glancing at people’s tickets. She held back a smile as he put on his best southern drawl and his most charming grin as he talked with the woman in 23B, convincing her eventually - with twenty dollars - to trade seats once they were on the plane. Once they boarded, he gave her a smug smile as he sat next to her, putting up the arm rest so she could lean into him.

“How much did you bribe her with?”

“Bribe? I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never bribed anyone in my life.”

_____

The entire ride home, he didn’t sleep at all. Sophie fell asleep on him within minutes, curled into him comfortably, and he didn’t dare move and wake her up. When they made it back to Columbus and James and Colin picked them up - with a ‘welcome back from federal prison’ sign. Sophie just grinned and greeted them both with a big hug, giggling when James kissed her cheek and Rafe socked him in the arm. The whole drive back, she chattered excitedly, filling the boys in on all her adventures while Rafe barely stayed awake, his head slumped onto her shoulder.

They went straight to Rafe’s senior house to relax and she gave herself a tour right away, impressed by the clean house and lack of lewd decor. (It was going up next week, anyways.)

She wasn’t tired at all as she strolled into his room, making a big deal of the newly painted walls and a few plants scattered around on shelves. “Check it out! This looks so good, Rafe!”

He yawned - again - and flopped onto his bed. “Shh.”

“Didn’t you sleep?” She did the same, sprawling out on his bed. “I can’t believe you have a king-sized bed, I’m never staying at my place.”

“No. Couldn’t sleep.” He stretched his neck uncomfortably, groaning. She nudged him over, tugging at the hem of his shirt, and he shook his head. “Nooo. I’m too tired for sex.”

She giggled and tugged again. “It’s not that. Sit up, I’ll rub your back.”

He sat up just enough to tug his shirt over his head and flopped back down to the mattress on his stomach. She crawled onto him and straddled him to massage his shoulders, digging her thumbs into the base of his neck. He groaned, twisting a little. “Lotion. In my nightstand drawer.”

“Ew, is that for -”

“My hands get dry, dummy, get your head out of the gutter.”

She flicked his neck. “Be nice or I’ll leave you alone.”

“No, baby, stay.” He whined, flexing his back a little as she stretched. She smiled to herself, appreciating his muscles and traced a finger down his spine. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

“Watch your hands.”

“I’m just touching your back.” She dug in a little harder into his shoulders, grinning when he groaned in appreciation.

“Yeah, and I know how touchy you can get.” He quipped, closing his eyes and letting her continue the massage. “Handsy.”

She teased his fingertips under the waistband of his shorts. “You’re gonna have to shower anyways.”

It took about two seconds for him to change his mind. “Hmm….fine. But I’m not gonna do any work if you start something.” He yawned. “And you’re not done on my back.”

She rolled her eyes and got back to work, pleased by his little satisfied noises. She was just about to roll him back over and tug down his shorts when James slammed his palm on the door. “Shut the fuck up, Rafe, we don’t want to hear you jacking off!”

“Jesus Christ, James, come in!” Rafe yelled back with annoyance lacing his tone. James came in to see their (mainly) innocent position. “Oh. It sounded like you were doing something else. Hi Sophie, I didn’t know you were still here.”

She giggled, crawling off of Rafe. “Hey. We weren’t -”

“Yeah, I can see that. My bad.” He went to leave and paused, sticking his head back in the door. “You should know, though, my room’s right below his. And we all share that bathroom, so I’d prefer things to be cleaned. Regularly.”

“Get out, James.” Rafe pointed with a glare. James nodded with a grin and left, the door clicking shut behind him. Sophie gave him an apologetic smile. “He’s really just below us?”

“Yeah. I don’t fucking care, I told him I’d buy him a white noise machine. C’mere.” He flipped over and pulled her up to his hips, groaning obnoxiously loud when his hard cock brushed against her core.

She giggled, rocking back and forth on him. “Now you’re just being annoying.”

“Good. He’s been worse, bringing home a different girl every weekend for a straight month before I left. Colin says he’s going through his hoe phase.” He yawned, tugging at her shirt. “You have about ten minutes to fuck me before I pass out in this bed.”

Sophie rolled her eyes, pulling off her shirt. “That’s it? Sure it’s worth it?”

“Angel, please.” He nearly begged, pulling her down to kiss her desperately, grinding his hips against hers.

“Okay, okay, you’re so needy.” She teased. “Let me just take care of you.”

“No, I want -” He started, cutting himself off when she pulled out his hard cock from his shorts and stroked down his length, making him hiss. “Okay. That’s fine.”

She rolled her eyes and ducked down to take him into her mouth, not giving any warning. He nearly groaned again until she reached up and slapped her free hand over his mouth. “Shh. Stay quiet or I’ll stop.”

He let his head fall back so she couldn’t see him and fisted the sheets, bucking up into her mouth. “So good. So fucking good, baby.” He mumbled against her hand, just loud enough that Sophie could hardly hear.

It didn’t take long for him to come, especially with the way she sucked on him and twisted her wrist at the same time. When he did, her hand still clapped against his mouth, he let out a satisfied sigh and grinned down at her. “You’re incredible.”

She removed her hand and gave him a quick kiss. “You’re too easy. I think that was four minutes.”

“Can’t help it. You were all touchy, you know what that does to me.” He tried pulling her close, all sleepy, and she gently swatted her hands away.

“No, baby. I gotta go home and shower, then unpack. And I want to get dinner with Allie and Jules.”

He frowned. “What about me?”

“I’ve been with you nonstop for three whole weeks.” She grinned and gave him another short kiss. “You’ll be okay. We’re gonna have to go back to sleeping apart sometimes.”

“Noooo.” He grumbled, reaching for her as she stood and tugged her shoes back on.

“Welcome back to reality, Cameron.”

“But you - you need your turn -” He tried arguing helplessly and she just grinned.

“I own a vibrator, remember?”

“Fuck. That thing.”

“Don’t worry.” She leaned against the wall with a smirk, arms crossed. “I’ll let you borrow it sometime. Can you drive me?”

Rafe sighed but ambled out of bed, tugging his shorts back up and pulling his shirt on. “This is not how I expected the night to go.”

“We both know you’re gonna pass out in bed the second you get back. Hopefully after a shower.”

“Yeah, probably.” He yawned, stretching. “If I’m not texting you by one in the afternoon tomorrow please check on me.”

She nodded seriously and shook his hand, making him laugh. “You have a deal. Don’t forget you have to pack though, we’re going home in two days.”

“We are home…?”

“Home home. Remember? We booked the flights yesterday in Rome?”

He nodded in recognition, casting a glance at his stuffed suitcase on the ground. “Right. Remind me why I couldn’t just ask for the plane?”

She scowled before she could catch herself. “I thought you didn’t want to see your dad when you were home.”

“Touché.” Rafe noticed her scowl but didn’t mention it, not having the energy to persist. He grabbed his keys and took her hand, bringing her out to the car. “C’mon, my chariot awaits.”

____

The two of them spent their two days before going home very differently - Rafe slept nearly the entire time, woke up at night to go get tacos with the boys, then went back to bed. Sophie decorated her entire room within four hours, set up her senior architecture studio, and had meetings with a professor, an advisor, and the co-president of the alumni mentorship program. (Rafe was exhausted just from seeing her texts about her schedule.)

The girls dropped them off at the airport only forty five minutes before their flight, despite Rafe’s protests that it wasn’t nearly enough time and Sophie’s argument that she’d made a flight with less time on a tiny airline in Spain. Their flight was inconvenient, as always - they had to fly into Virginia and take a 2.5 hour ferry to get back home. When they finally arrived, greeted by the familiar summer humidity and the smell of the sea, her brother picked them up to bring them to Sophie’s.

“Soph!” He yelled out the window from the pickup line. Rafe noticed immediately and straightened up, grabbing her bag as well as his to walk to the car.

She beamed, waving as they came closer, and slid into the front seat while Rafe put their suitcases in the back. “Carter! Hi! I thought you were moving this weekend?”

“I pushed it back a couple weeks, wanted to see you before I left. How was Barcelona?” He glanced back and nodded at Rafe briefly in the backseat. “Rafe.”

“Hey. Thanks for picking us up.” Rafe smiled politely, nearly crammed into the backseat because of how far back Sophie’s seat was. He assumed Carter had moved it before he came to pick them up, but didn’t dare say a word.

“Yeah, no problem.” The rest of the ride was just the two siblings talking, mainly Sophie telling him about her study abroad and the trips she’d taken with Rafe. Carter kept his eye on Rafe in the backseat at a few parties of her story, especially when she stuttered over talking about swimming in Nice and Rafe’s birthday. (Rafe very pointedly looked out the window to avoid his eyes.)

They were greeted by Sophie’s dad when Carter pulled the car up in the driveway. He wrapped Sophie in a tight, smothering hug when she jumped out of the car, the two of them sharing matching grins. “Hey, Sophie girl.”

“Hi Dad.” She mumbled against his shirt, hugging him tight. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too.” He finally let her go and welcomed Rafe in for a hug too, ignoring his handshake. “Nice to see you too, kiddo.”

“You too, Mr. Flint.” He beamed and excused himself from the hug quickly to get both his and Sophie’s suitcases, ever the gentleman in his presence. “Thank you so much for letting me stay here, I really appreciate it.”

Her dad nodded with a smile, taking Sophie’s bag from him. “Of course. Come on, I’ll show you to your spot in the guest room. Soph, your mom’s out running errands, I thought we could all head out to the course for a round if you’re not too tired?”

“Sure, that sounds fine. Dad, did you forward that study I emailed you about using filtered stormwater for the course to the groundskeeper? So it’s more eco-friendly?” Sophie asked over her shoulder, leading the way inside and upstairs.

Jeff sent Rafe a knowing smile behind her back, shaking his head. Ever since Sophie really got into eco conservation in high school, she’d been pushing more and more for the entire family to make small changes. Her efforts got more and more involved as she learned more in college, and she’d had meetings with the groundskeeper at the country club no less than five times - he listened politely as a favor to her dad, but that was all. “I sent it, yes. I’m not sure how well it was received.”

“Oh, well, I can send you some more resources. It’s good to at least provide the options, you know?” She turned back and took her bag into her room, automatically going for Rafe’s as well.

Rafe smiled, subtly pulling it away and tried to redirect her dad’s attention. “Um, which one’s the guest room?”

“Other end of the hallway, just opposite Carter’s room.” Jeff gave him a pointed look and he nodded quickly. “Great, thank you.”

“Dad, you’re not seriously making him stay in there.” Sophie argued, giving her dad a pleading look.

“No, it’s fine! I’m sure it’s perfect, I’ll go make myself at home.” Rafe quickly excused himself, heading down the hall and just barely stayed in earshot of the two.

Her dad regarded her carefully. “Sophie, you can’t really expect me to believe you two had been in separate dorms that entire trip like you’ve been telling your mother, can you?”

She grew embarrassed, leaning against her doorway. “Dad...”

“I’m not oblivious, honey, I just hope you’re being safe -”

“Dad! Please. I don’t want to talk about this with you. Ever.” She told him with wide eyes and red cheeks, backing into her room slowly.

“Alright, just. Be careful. Both of you.” He warned her, patting her shoulder before heading back down the stairs, calling out loudly over his shoulder. “Be ready in fifteen!”

She just groaned and flopped back onto her bed.

“Ready, kids?” Jeff called up the stairs, exactly fifteen minutes later. Sophie was in the guest room with Rafe, sporting a golf tank from high school and a matching skort. The tank was a little tight across the chest and she’d flaunted into his room with it unbuttoned to completely show off her boobs, showing him exactly what was underneath.

“Yes sir!” Rafe called back, a little higher pitched than normal, and shoved Sophie’s shoulder lightly. “Button that up,” he hissed.

“You’re a prude.” She rolled her eyes, buttoning it back up to her neck but adjusted her skort to sit a little higher. (Nothing too inappropriate, but it was just enough to drive Rafe crazy.)

“I’m not - we are going golfing with your father, baby, and you look like several dreams I’ve had in high school. Do not pull something. Fix your skirt.”

She perked up, taking a step closer. “You dreamed about me in high school? What kind of dreams?”

“No. We’re not doing this.” He told her, but she didn’t miss the way he reached in his pocket and grimaced for a moment. “Behave.”

She grinned and practically skipped downstairs, with Rafe following close behind. “We’re ready! Dad, can we just play 9 today? I wanted to go hang out on the beach with Rafe later.”

“Our reservation’s for the full 18. What, you don’t want to play a full round with your old man?” Her dad teased, but she could hear the tiny tone of hurt underneath.

“We can go to the beach another time, the full 18’s perfect.” Rafe interjected. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep up with you though, Mr. Flint, I haven’t really played since last year.”

“Oh, you’ll be fine, I saw your form earlier this summer.” Her dad replied cheerfully, not noticing as Sophie mouthed “suck up” to Rafe behind his back.

They all drove to the course and split into carts, her dad in one and Rafe and Sophie in the other. As they rode to the second hole, Sophie kicked her feet up on the dash, ignoring the golf etiquette standard. “Hey, Rafe.”

He instantly reached over and shoved her feet off, casting a glance toward her dad to make sure he didn’t see. “Yes ma’am.”

“You think we could pull off a quickie tonight?”

He fixed her with a glare, unamused. “Sophie. Do not.”

She just smirked as she skipped off the cart to the hole, club in hand. She didn’t quit the entire rest of the game, murmuring little dirty things into his ear on the cart or pretending like she was going to flash him, bursting into giggles as he nearly wrecked the cart trying to lunge across the seat to keep her shirt down. Rafe was entirely distracted the whole game, trying to stay as civil as possible around her dad while also keeping Sophie in check.

Her competitive streak kicked in around the sixth hole, when she was losing by just enough. Jeff kept pointing out little imperfections in her form - her arms were bent too far, her hips didn’t rotate enough, her head wasn’t down for long enough - and Rafe winced nearly every time. Sophie took it all in stride though, and he had to remind himself that criticism from a parent was fine when it was paired with constant encouragement after she improved.

Her dad was a little more sensitive to how Rafe responded to criticism, starting everything with a compliment first and then phrasing the critique as a suggestion. At the end of the game - despite Rafe barely losing to Sophie, Jeff coming in first - he nudged Rafe and gave him an encouraging grin. “You’re looking good, kid. Might beat this one if she wasn’t so annoying.”

“Dad!” Sophie exclaimed. “I didn’t do a thing -”

“I raised you better than to whistle on the golf course, Soph.” Her dad pointed out as he poked her in the leg with his club. “Breaking every single etiquette rule out there.”

“It’s a simple distraction technique.” She protested with a sheepish grin. She had whistled at Rafe when he bent over to place his ball on the tee - twice - and thought her dad hadn’t noticed either time.

“If you’re using distraction to win the game, maybe you aren’t good enough.” Her dad retorted, laughing as Rafe’s eyebrows shot up at the same time as Sophie’s. “Go drive the carts back, I’ll meet you two at the car.” As Sophie grinned and started toward her dad’s cart, he called after her again. “No racing! Not again!”

She just ignored him and Jeff turned to Rafe with an exasperated grin. “I’m not sure how you kept up with her for that long in Europe.”

“I’m not entirely sure either, sir.” Rafe told him with a smile.

____

When they came back to the house, all a little sweaty, her mom had a tray of lemonade and snacks set out for all of them. “Mrs. Flint, hi. Thank you for this.” Rafe thanked her immediately, wiping the sweat off his brow.

“Rafe, it’s good to see you, thank you for keeping an eye on my child the past few weeks.” Her mom greeted with a teasing grin. “Sophie, Angie is coming over with the twins any second now, can you two watch them for a couple hours?”

Sophie scowled, flopping back into her chair and only straightened up instinctively when her mom tapped her shoulders. “Rafe and I were going to -”

“No, that’s fine, we don’t have plans.” Rafe cut her off quickly, nudging Sophie’s foot with his. “Who’s Angie?”

“Angie’s my older cousin, she just had her babies around February.” Sophie informed him. “They’re kind of cute, I guess.”

“They’re very cute, and it’s just so Angie and your aunt and I can go shopping for more baby clothes. You haven’t met them yet, you should be excited to see them.” Her mom chastised with a shake of her head. “You’ll have your own soon enough, so this’ll be a learning experience.”

Sophie nearly spat out her lemonade, affronted. “Mom!”

“Don’t be dramatic, Sophie.” She tutted and went back inside.

Sophie gaped after her, shaking her head. “Ignore her. Go shower, I’ll shower when you’re done.”

He wasn’t entirely sure what to make of that exchange, always a little confused by her mom’s well-intentioned insults. “I thought the kids were coming…?”

“Yeah, I can handle them and then we’ll swap.” She grinned, lowering her voice. “Or we could shower together and it’ll be faster.”

Rafe practically scrambled out of his chair to go shower, pointing accusingly at her. “Stop that.”

“Stop what.”

“You know - that.” He gestured wildly at the way she’d leaned forward, undone a button and bit her bottom lip. “You’re teasing. Just wait until we’re back in Ohio, please.”

She just smirked and leaned forward to kick his ass lightly. “Go.”

____

When she came back down after her slightly-too-long shower with damp hair, she stopped in her tracks at the base of the stairs. Rafe had one of the babies napping in the play crib and the other asleep on his chest, tiny fingers curled around his pinky as he carefully rubbed her back. Sophie took a quick photo before he could notice and approached quietly, combing her fingers through his hair affectionately.

He lifted his head to smile at her, whispering. “She fell asleep like this, isn’t she sweet? I think this one is baby Ava.”

She laughed quietly, shaking her head. “That’s Amelia. Ava’s in the crib, she has more hair.”

“Oh. Look at her tiny fingers, Sophie.” He murmured, so proud that he was able to get them to stay asleep. When Angie had arrived, she’d brought in both car seats and set up the crib, then handed off both still-sleeping babies to him with only a short introduction. She’d nestled Amelia on his chest, telling him she slept better that way, and thanked him profusely before leaving with Sophie’s mom.

“Babies are so weird.” Sophie replied, a little too loud. “At least they’re starting to get cute.”

He shushed her immediately with a glare. “They’re not weird.”

“How are you so good at this?” She cocked her head, considering picking up Ava from the crib but not trusting her skills.

“Dunno. I like kids.” He traced small circles on Amelia’s back, quietly shushing her when she cooed a little. After a few moments, he glanced up at Sophie with a smile. “How many do you want?”

“I’m not giving you a baby any time soon.” She told him pointedly, leaning into him a little. “But I guess if you really want, I could start calling you daddy…”

He shuddered, his whole face scrunching up into a scowl. “I hope that’s not a kink of yours because I’m really not sure I could entertain it.”

She giggled, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “I’m just kidding. Um, I don’t know that I’ve thought about it. I’ve only ever thought as far as my job.”

“Wait, really? Never?”

She shrugged. “Nah. I liked having Carter growing up though. You’ve thought about it?”

He nodded confidently. “Yeah. Two or three’s perfect, I think. Not too much of an age gap in between. A good mix of girls and boys. I want to...yeah.”

Sophie furrowed her brow, turning to face him. “You want what?”

“I want to be a good dad. To do it right.” He told her, a little shy. “I’m not sure I could, but -”

“You will.” She interrupted him, firmly. “I know you will.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do, baby. You’re going to love our kids so well -”

“Our kids?” He interjected with a small grin, making her blush as a matching blush crept up on his cheeks.

“Sorry, did you plan on having kids with someone else?” She raised her eyebrows.

“No. ‘Course not. Just didn’t know you planned on having them with me.” His grin grew to split across his cheeks, beaming.

She shook her head, feeling herself grow bright red. “Well, yeah. Later, but yeah. You’re it for me, Rafe.” She told him, her voice going a little soft.

He nodded, reaching out to grab her hand and kiss the back of it, the most movement he could make without disturbing the baby. “Good. My favorite.”

“My favorite.” She echoed softly, leaning back into him. As the garage door opened and both babies startled, Ava starting to wail, she scowled and stood to pick her up, holding her out at arm’s length as she began to scream. Amelia began to wake but stayed quiet, her little fist tightening around Rafe’s finger.

“Actually hold her, Soph.” He told her with a skeptical glance at the way she was clearly uncomfortable around the baby. She moved her grip to be able to rock the baby but Ava kept screaming, sensing Sophie’s lack of experience.

Just as Sophie was about to place her hand over Ava’s mouth, Angie came in with an exasperated sigh. “Oh, baby, it’s okay, did the garage wake you?” She cooed, immediately soothing her daughter.

Sophie’s mom followed, smiling at the sight of Rafe completely comfortable with Amelia quietly on his chest still. “Look at that, you’ve got the natural instinct.”

“Oh my god, can I take you home with me? Sophie, I’m stealing your boyfriend.” Angie joked, winking at Rafe.

He laughed, getting up carefully so he didn’t shift Amelia too much and carefully placed her back into the crib. “I wouldn’t mind a little babysitting, but I’ve got to go back to Ohio for our senior year at the end of the weekend.”

“Right, of course.” Angie nodded, giving him a grateful smile.

Sophie rolled her eyes at Rafe behind Angie’s back. “Thanks for letting us watch them for a bit, Ang, they’re adorable, but we kind of have plans…”

“But you'll be back after dinner?” Her mom asked. Sophie resisted a scowl while Rafe just gave her an eager smile. “We’ll be back for dinner, no worries.”

“Okay, see you later!” Sophie practically dragged him upstairs, pulling him into her room and shutting the door before he could protest. He immediately reached for the doorknob, but she grabbed his hand and leaned up to kiss him, hard.

Rafe kissed her back for a few moments before he was reminded where he was and pulled back quickly. “Soph, we can’t.”

“I just want to kiss you.” She argued with a pleading tone, pouting a little.

“I thought we were leaving? Going to the beach?” He dodged another attempted kiss from her, easily slipping out from where she had him pinned against the door and stepped away from her.

“Right. I have to change.” She pulled off her shirt and bralette in one fell swoop, then kicked off her shorts too before he could blink.

He gaped for a moment when he realized she was completely naked, his voice lowering a little. “Baby.”

“Yeah?” She strolled over to her dresser, pretending to rifle through her drawer of old swimsuits, and settled on a hot pink string bikini. She’d bought it in high school and kept it in her car to change into for pool parties, because if her mom ever caught her in it she was sure she’d be transferred to a Catholic boarding school immediately. She knew for a fact Rafe had seen it before, even complimented her in it back in high school, and was hoping he’d recognize it.

He did.

Right away.

“Soph, not - not that one.” He implored, voice cracking. He could feel his throat going dry as he fought every urge in his body telling him to go over to her and have his way with her right that instant, trying to remind himself that her parents were literally right downstairs.

She held back a grin as she shimmied into the bikini, tying it up behind her neck. “What’s wrong with this one?”

“I’m getting you back for this. All this teasing today. I swear. I - I -” He couldn’t even come up with a decent half-hearted threat as she strode closer, letting her hair down from her claw clip, and a big whiff of her shampoo overloaded his senses.

“You’ll what.”

“You’re going to regret this.” He told her, and she swore she could hear the way his voice was shaking.

“What are you gonna do? Punish me? Tie me up?” She teased, and the hint of a laugh in her voice was enough to break his spell.

“Sophie, please. No more. I’ll do whatever you want the second we’re back in Ohio, but I am really trying to make a good impression on your family.” He pleaded, eyes trained intensely on hers - though she was pretty sure it was just so he wouldn’t be able to look down at her tits.

“Okay, okay.” She grabbed her shirt from the bed and pulled it on over the swimsuit, her shorts following. “You don’t have to try so hard though, you know?”

“I know, I just. I want to do this right.” He relaxed a little once she got dressed, but was still mainly tense. “Can I, uh, use your bathroom?”

Sophie sat back on the bed, sending him a confused glance. “No one uses the one out in the hall by the guest room, just use that.”

“That one doesn’t have a shower.”

“You just showered - oh.” She realized as soon as Rafe’s slightly pained expression set in and she noticed the bulge in his shorts. Sophie grinned, satisfied. “I could take care of that faster, y’know.”

“I think I’d still be hard after.” He confessed with a shake of his head, quickly letting himself into the bathroom and ignoring her giggles as he locked the door.

____

They were only out at the beach for a couple hours before they had to return home, but it was like she could see the tension literally unraveling from Rafe’s body when he wasn’t under the pressure of impressing her parents. They laid out their towels with a little overlap and she had her head on Rafe’s arm as they sprawled out on the beach, uninterrupted. When his phone chimed, he nudged her a little. “Can you grab that?”

Sophie sat up to get his phone from her bag at their feet. “Your dad texted.”

“What does it say?”

“I don’t know your password.”

“You did the Face ID thing for it in France, remember?” He didn’t move a muscle, halfway to falling asleep out in the sun.

She cocked her head, surprised when the phone unlocked. “I thought you would have taken it off, thought it was just for traveling.”

“Nope. I have nothing to hide.” He nudged his sunglasses down and squinted up at her. “What does it say?”

“Oh, right.” She opened his text, frowning a little. “Um, he said he saw you leaving the country club the other day and wants you over for lunch tomorrow.”

“Fuck.” He muttered, sitting up with a sigh and took the phone from her to read over the text to see if there were any undertones of him being in trouble. “Okay. You’ll come, right?”

“What - me? I don’t know if that’s really necessary -”

“I’ve been with your family all weekend.”

She frowned more, tucking her knees up to her chest. “I thought you wanted to stay with my family.”

“I do, I do!” He backtracked quickly, reaching out and skimming his hand over her arm. “But I want you to come with me.”

“Rafe…” She started, hesitant, but gave in once she saw his pleading look. “Alright. I’ll go, but I doubt he’ll want me there.”

“He’ll be fine.” Rafe shot off a quick reply to his dad, satisfied when Ward liked the message in response. “It’ll be fine. It’s just lunch.”

“Mmhmm.” She didn’t bring up how he sounded like he was reassuring himself more than anything. She stood, offering her hand. “Come on, swim with me.”

He kissed the back of it before taking it and hauling himself up. “I love you. You know that?”

“I know, baby. I always know.”

_____

Later that night, Sophie sat across from her dad as they got dinner ready. She’d informed him she and Rafe were going to Ward’s house tomorrow for lunch and her dad had merely replied with a noncommittal hum, asked her how she felt, and nodded again when she replied with a wary shrug.

“I never liked the idea of you dating.” Jeff told her as he sliced up watermelon for their dinner that night. Rafe paused around the corner, sent to the garage to grab charcoal for the grill, not wanting to interrupt.

“Dad.” She whined a little, embarrassed, but didn’t move from her spot across the kitchen counter.

“I didn’t, you’re my little girl. But I like Rafe, a lot. He’s a good kid, Sophie, keep him around.”

“I’m planning on it.” She murmured.

“You love him?” Jeff inquired, pausing his cutting of the watermelon for a moment. She merely nodded to respond with a blush and a smile and Rafe nearly walked out then just so he could see the look on her face, desperately craving the confirmation.

“He makes me...I just…” Sophie tripped over her words a little, tugging at the loose threads on her jean shorts. “I feel safe with him. With Luke, or Peter, you know, I -”

“I try not to remember them.” Her dad quipped with a smile, making her roll her eyes. “Go on.”

“Just, with them I didn’t really see much past what we had. But with Rafe, it’s different. Like, I know he’ll stick by my side. For...a while.” She decided, giving her dad a shy but eager smile.

“Well, when that time comes, I’ll be happy to have him in the family.” Jeff told her decisively.

“Me too.” She murmured, then hopped up from her chair. “I’m gonna go find him, he’s probably still rooting around the garage for the charcoal.”

Rafe carefully stepped back a few steps, just enough to quickly shut the door to the garage loudly and stroll in with a sense of purpose like he hadn’t just overheard the whole conversation. “Found it! Sorry, took me a second.”

“I thought you got lost.” She beamed at him, seeming to regard him in a different light for a moment.

He stood taller under her adoring gaze, smiling back. “Nope. Where do you want this, Mr. Flint?”

“Backyard’s fine. Know how to work the grill, Rafe?” Jeff set down the knife and pushed the watermelon toward Sophie so she could take over.

“Uh, not sure, I’ve only ever used electric.”

“C’mon then, let me show you how it’s done.” He clapped a hand on Rafe’s shoulder as he passed to lead the way out to the backyard.

____

Sophie was hardly able to sleep all night, so she crept into Rafe’s room around 1am, careful to only open the door just enough so it wouldn’t creak. “Rafe?”

He was awake too, just barely, and rolled over to greet her, whispering. “Hey. Why are you still up?”

“Can’t sleep.” She mumbled and crawled into his bed without invitation, laying on top of him and placed her head over his heart. He hesitated for a moment but eventually wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. “Me either.”

“Are you nervous?” She asked.

“For lunch? A little, yeah. But I don’t sleep well without you anyways.” He confessed, playing with the ends of her hair.

“That’s no good.” She traced little patterns on his chest. “Your dad hates me. Right?”

“I don’t think so.” He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, not bothering to add that he wasn’t sure she was even enough on his radar for Ward to consider hating her. “You need to sleep, sweet girl.”

“So do you.”

“You’re not supposed to be in here.”

She raised her arm with her watch aimlessly. “I set an alarm for six. I’ll go back to my room then.”

“Okay. Sweet dreams, angel.” He kept playing with her hair until he heard her breathing slow and deepen, and only let himself fall asleep an hour after, once he was sure they wouldn’t be caught.

_______

Later that day, after anxiously pacing the house all morning, Sophie was squeezing the life out of his hand as they walked up to his front door. He pressed a kiss to her temple before letting them in. “Soph. It’s okay.”

“Your dad hates me.” She told him with a straight face.

“He - I don’t think that’s true.” He faltered, punching in the code to the front door and toed it open when it unlocked. “This isn’t fun for me either, can you please help me out and not break my hand?”

“Right! Right, sorry.” She let go of him right away, letting him shake out his hand. “Here, let me -” She reached up to fix his hair and he jerked away, startled.

“He says it looks better gelled, don’t -”

“I’m not, I’m just fixing -” She carefully pushed a stray strand back into place and he gave her a grateful smile when he felt it. “Okay. We’re okay?”

“We’re good. Go ahead.” She nodded and followed him in, taking his hand when he reached out for hers.

Ward spotted them first, coming in from the kitchen with two wine glasses in his hands. “Rafe! Do you want wine? Um...Savannah…?”

Rafe’s face fell and his shoulders dropped as he clutched her hand a little tighter. “Her name is Sophie, Dad. I’ve only told you that at least ten times.”

“It’s okay.” She excused quickly with an overly polite smile. “We’ve only met once, at your Christmas party.”

“Right, right, I remember.” Ward nodded and set the glasses down at the table. “I’ll get you both a glass, hold on. Rose!” He called out, going back into the kitchen.

Rafe gave her an apologetic glance and she shook her head quickly. “It’s fine. Doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter.”

“Yes, well, it’s fine. Are Sarah and Wheezie here?”

“I already asked, Sarah’s back at school and Wheezie got out of this to hang out with some friends.” He had texted them the night before for support, but had no luck.

“Okay.” She reached up and stroked her thumb over his cheek, whispering. “Relax your shoulders for me, baby.”

“Right.” He nodded, but stayed tense. Rose returned with Ward a few moments later, with the whole bottle in hand and two empty glasses. “Rafe, you’re here. Sophie, hello, are you still jetlagged from your trip?”

“Um, no.” Sophie replied curtly. “We’ve been back for a few days now.”

“Oh, you just looked a little tired. Maybe it’s the lighting.” Rose gave her a sweet smile and gestured around, although the entire dining room was filled with natural light.

“Maybe.” Sophie forced herself to agree, sitting after Rafe pulled out her chair for her. All their plates were already set out with individual portions, and she noticed there was more salad on her plate than anyone else’s, but didn’t dare say a thing.

“Tell me about your internship, Rafe. You didn’t leave early for the trip, did you?” Ward asked, starting to eat and Sophie took that as an invitation to start as well. When she reached for the wrong fork, Rafe tried to subtly reach out and push the other one toward her.

“No, I finished it then went out to Spain. The internship was good, I learned a lot. I have a job offer from them.”

“You’re not accepting, of course.” Rose replied, then raised her eyebrows at his pause to answer. “Right? Aren’t you coming home after graduation to work with your father?”

“I have a couple options.” Rafe replied vaguely, taking a larger sip of wine than what was considered polite.

To his surprise, Ward nodded in agreement. “You can explore a few things before you come home, it’ll give you more experience for joining the board. A year or so after graduation, that’s fine.”

“You’ll let him swan around instead of doing his job?”

“A couple years won’t hurt anything. He’s in supply chain, Rose, it’s relevant work.”

Rafe had a small smile as he picked at his food with the fork, then lifted his head. “What if I didn’t get a job in supply chain? To start?”

Ward fixed him with a stern gaze. “If this is about your minor, I don’t want to hear it.”

His smile dropped as quickly as he’d found it. “No, yeah, supply chain is smart.”

Rose glanced between the two of them, then cocked her head at Sophie. “What are you studying?”

“I’m in architecture.” Sophie replied, tensing a little.

“Oh. That’s cute. I’ve been looking to hire someone to help decorate our parlor, actually -”

“It’s, um, designing buildings, not interior decorating. It requires a master’s.” Sophie cut her off, with a little more edge to her voice than necessary.

Rose nodded. “Right. What’s the starting salary, around 30k? It’s a good thing you’re with Rafe, you won’t have to sacrifice for a tiny apartment once you graduate.”

Sophie flinched, stabbing her fork into the salad harder than necessary. “It depends on the firm.”

Rafe stayed silent, staring at his wine glass. They all sat there quietly as the clinks of their forks and their glasses echoed in the room for a few moments as they all ate, or pushed around the food on their plates.

“Rafe.”

His head snapped up at Ward. “Yes sir.”

“Are you still wanting the plane and the house for your fall break?”

Sophie didn’t dare look up to show the surprise flash across her face.

“Yes, sir, if that’s alright. It’s just a small group.” Rafe replied, nodding quickly. “I’ll do that remote work like you asked, call into the meetings if you need me to.”

“That’ll work.” Ward nodded. “You haven’t taken Sophie down there, just Brooklyn, right?”

“Mm. Yeah. That was a while ago.” Rafe sighed. “I haven’t dated her in over a year.”

“You’ll love it, Sophie,” Rose smiled at her. “It’s the best, so luxurious. You’re probably not used to it so it’ll be a treat.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, hard. “Right.”

Rafe glanced down at his watch as he briefly squeezed her knee under the table. “Thank you for having us over for lunch, Dad, Rose, but we have to catch our flight tonight and haven’t packed up yet. Sophie’s dad is driving us to the airport.”

“Alright.” Ward rose from his chair at the same time as his son, nodding. “Call me, okay? Check in once in a while?”

“Yeah, Dad, of course.” Rafe relaxed into the hug with his dad, pulling away with a broad smile. “Maybe you could come up for parent’s weekend this year.”

“I’ll check the calendar. Sophie, it was nice to see you again.” Ward walked them both out and she was unbelievably stiff as she shook his hand, her jaw set. When they walked out hand in hand again to her dad’s car, parked at the very end of the drive, she stayed quiet.

Rafe slid into the car with her and gave her a grin, like the weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “That wasn’t bad, right? I expected much worse!”

“Yeah.” She nodded weakly, staring ahead at his house out the window. “Can we go?”

He started the car with a frown, reaching out to place his hand on her thigh but she shifted away. “Sophie. What’s up?”

“Let’s just get home.” She offered a fake smile that he saw through right away, but he didn’t press it.

The rest of the drive was quiet as Rafe turned the radio up and tried to ignore her leg jittering anxiously and how she kept switching her ring from finger to finger, a constant nervous habit of hers. When he pulled into the driveway at her house, he reached out again and stilled her leg. “Sophie.”

“You didn’t say a thing.” She murmured to herself, not looking at him.

“What do you mean?” He frowned and reached out to take her hand.

Sophie pulled back a little, but turned to look at him. “Nothing, it’s fine. I’m glad it went well with your dad.”

“But…”

She leaned forward and gave him a short kiss and a smile to match, shaking her head. “You said it yourself, we have to go pack. Come on.” She got out of the car and didn’t give him a second glance backward as she strode into the house.

Rafe sat there and watched, dumbfounded and unsure of what he’d done.

taglist: @whoeveniskendall @kkmaybank @karsinner @outerbanksbro @outerbankspreferences @randomficsandshit @jailcalledlife @tovvaa @moniamaybank @illbesafeforyou @dontjinx-it @freddymaybank @jjmaybankzz @g4bster @oopsiedoopsie23 @babygal-babygal @thecuthoney @babeyglo