#intentional or not they end up leaving the door open for the argument that humanity could exist just fine as it is without incubators after
maybe some dad eddie taking baby to family video, and playing hide and seek with the shelf’s with steve and robin
eee thank you!! my first attempt at writing eddie, so pls be gentle w me (but also would love any feedback you have!) wc: 1.1k; dad!eddie
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“Alright, c’mon, stinker,” Eddie huffed, hoisting his three-year-old out of his carseat before setting him onto his feet next to the van. It was no longer the same kind of van he had in high school — this one was totally a dad van, and his friends loved to give him shit for it. He stuck his hand out to his side, fingers wiggling at his little boy as he demanded, “Hand!”
Jasper quickly complied and grabbed onto Eddie’s hand, but scoffed in annoyance, sounding a bit too much like his dad, “I not a stinker. You the stinker, daddy.”
Eddie snorted with a shake of his head, shoving his keys into his front pocket with his free hand, and chose not to start an argument with his toddler in the parking lot. Instead, he changed the subject to the task at hand, “Do you think Uncle Steve set aside our tapes for us? Or did he forget again? Maybe Auntie Robin helped him out.”
At the mention of his favorite aunt (maybe his favorite human), Jasper started babbling excitedly, walking as fast as he could to the door, leaving Eddie to follow along and try his best to not trip over his kid. And, before Eddie could stop him, Jasper’s tiny palm was banging on the glass door to Family Video, leaving toddler-sized handprints behind with each smack. Eddie groaned, “Aw, c’mon, kiddo. Uncle Steve is gonna make me clean that. You really are the stinker, you know that?” Still, he pulled the door open and nudged Jasper gently, “Okay, in we go.”
Inside, the store was empty, and both Steve and Robin had stopped whatever they’d been doing at the sound of the smacking on the door. They were both waiting behind the counter, grins on their faces as they watched Jasper toddle inside. His face lit up and he quickly let go of his dad’s hand in favor of running full force at Robin, who had come out from behind the counter and crouched down with her arms open. He nearly knocked her over, shouting her name, though he still didn’t have a grasp on his r’s, causing it to sound more like a w.
“Hey, little man,” Robin laughed, wrapping her arms around Jasper to hug him close as she stood up again, shifting him to rest against her hip. She pressed an exaggerated kiss to his cheek as she carried him behind the counter with her, “Did you come just to see me?”
“Yes!” Jasper nodded seriously, tiny fingers playing with one of the buttons on her vest intently.
“Dude!” Steve scoffed playfully, reaching out to press his fingers into Jasper’s tummy for a few tickles once Robin had set him on the counter, “No love for Stevie?”
Shrieking with laughter, Jasper curled into Robin’s chest in an attempt to hide, which delighted her to no end, “Nope! Jas is mine today!”
“No kidding,” Eddie replied as he leaned an elbow against the counter, hovering his hand just behind his son’s back just in case, “He got so excited, he nearly tripped both of us and tried to break in when I said we were seeing you, Buckley.”
“That reminds me,” Steve held up one finger as he crouched down, disappearing behind the counter, only to reappear with a spray bottle and a rag in hand a second later. He pushed them across the counter toward Eddie, “To clean the monster’s handprints off the door.”
Eddie gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his chest, “My son is not a monster! Except for when he is, but I don’t claim him then.” He reached out with one hand to ruffle Jasper’s dark hair and scooped up the cleaning supplies in his other arm to head back to the front door, “Please don’t let him fall off the counter.”
By the time Eddie had wiped all of the small handprints off of the front door, both of his friends and his son had disappeared from behind the counter. Setting the spray bottle and rag back on the counter, Eddie called out into the store, “Oh god. Jasper turned invisible again!” This was a relatively new game; Eddie pretended that Jasper was invisible, even when he was right in front of him. The first time Eddie did it, Jasper had hated it and panicked, thinking he really had disappeared before his dad’s eyes, but quickly realized the fun in pretending he really was invisible, and loved to think he was getting away with stuff.
There was no reply, only a quiet giggle sounding from somewhere in the store. Eddie would know that sound anywhere. The sound of his baby’s mischievous giggle. Drumming his fingers on the counter, Eddie let out an overly dramatic and forlorn sigh, “Whatever am I going to do?”
Another hushed giggle was followed quickly by some urgent whispering.
Eddie moved towards the rows of movies and surprisingly, didn’t see any toddler feet sticking out of the rows. With the giggling, though, he knew exactly where he’d find his son. Still, he put on a show, yelling out Jasper’s name and making stupid jokes as he popped around corners of shelves, “Jas? Are you in the romcom section? You’re too young for those!”
A few tapes fell to the floor in the second to last row as Eddie approached it. There were a few more not-so-quiet — bordering on angry — whispers from Steve and Robin. He guessed they were arguing about who was going to clean up the mess. Eddie moved as quietly as he could, stopping just before the corner before jumping into view and shouting, “Gotcha!”
Both of his friends and his son screamed in surprise, eyes going wide as Eddie appeared in front of them. Jasper was curled up in Robin’s lap, but as soon as he realized it was just his dad, he huffed, nose scrunching up, “Dad! Too scary!”
“No such thing as too scary,” Eddie argued, plucking Jasper out of Robin’s lap to press a sloppy kiss to his son’s forehead. “We need to get our tapes. Did you ask Uncle Steve for them?”
Jasper wiped his fist across his forehead, trying to get rid of Eddie’s kiss, but looked to his uncle for help answering the question, “Steeb? Muppets?” He hadn’t quite figured Steve’s name out either.
“Give me a second, Munson,” Steve glared at Eddie, a hand over his chest, “You scared the fu— dge. Fudge outta me.”
“Fudge!” Jasper repeated excitedly.
Eddie pointed at his son, trying to be as stern as possible, “Not a word for you, stinker.”
“Fudge.”
“I said,” Eddie started in a mock-angry tone, “Not for you, stinker!” He finished the sentence by attacking his son with tickles and making chomping noises as he pretended to bite his arm.
Out of breath from all of the laughing and trying to wiggle away from his dad, Jasper added one last thing, “You the stinker!”
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A cautious case for Star Peace
Earlier in the season I expressed dismay at the telegraphing of what I would consider to be a bad, even irresponsible war story featuring the Gorn in Strange New Worlds.
It may surprise the reader that after the season finale, I remain at Yellow Alert, but I see signs that my worst case scenario is not what is going to unfold. Spoilers after the jump.
For starters I will acknowledge there are apparently troubling comments about the intention behind the Gorn from the showrunners. Some of these comments are being taken out of context, because they don't fully rule out the idea of an accommodation with the Gorn, but they do have to first play out their role as series antagonists.
Many bits have been spilled over the idea of a villain who is genetically predisposed towards being incapable of empathy and the implication that, not unlike the Xenomorphs that the showrunners are explicitly borrowing from, there is ultimately no solution but a final one. A grim argument that even in a setting prefigured for idealism and the rejection of xenophobia and violence as being preferred, there are some gulfs that can't be bridged. Some peoples whose needs are so profoundly in conflict that there can be no lasting peace.
I think this episode is actually subverting that in not even all that subtle ways that many a web-pundit are missing or dismissing.
To recap, here are some blink or you'll miss it Chekov's phasers that I think will be firing if not in the season premiere then later on in the series.
Juvenile Gorn who are forming packs and cooperating instead of fighting to the death. This was a moderately significant plot point from the last time we saw the Gorn that probably got overshadowed by the episode's tragic ending.
In spite of his tough talk to April, later in the episode after being reunited with Batel, Pike wearily expresses a hope that maybe there's something everyone missed, some way of achieving a breakthrough.
The Gorn juvenile not harming Batel could be read a couple of ways. Either its just a way to telegraph her infection, or its another curious behavior. I honestly do not remember if the Gorn from season one was ever in a position to confront Hemmer and then back down. It seems like if the juveniles are known to fight to the death, its not unreasonable to assume they would normally view a host carrying eggs as competition.
Batel's rescue positions her for Chapel and M'Benga to "science the Bantha poodoo" out of the Gorn egg problem and in the process, learn something critical about the Gorn that might lead to a more peaceful coexistence. Some sort of pheromone that makes Humans read as friends not food, or even the potential to raise Gorn young with a different socialization, proving that heredity isn't destiny.
The abduction of the crew from the planet also seems significant for reasons beyond needing to set up a cliffhanger. This too will provide an opportunity to add complexity and nuance to the Gorn. Perhaps we'll learn they're not actually a single hat species and there are dissidents, pacifists, those who seek to live sustainably and manage their reproduction in a way that doesn't rely on coercion or the violation of others' right to live?
At least some of the Gorn's behavior is apparently tied to solar activity. Although its still squicky from a Doylist standpoint, a Watsonian excuse that external factors flipped the switch on the Gorn and make them go berserk does open the door to analogies to circumstantial hysteria in humans.
Bonus: There have been multiple episodes this season around the theme of biology not being destiny: Una's court marshal for being a closeted Illyrian and La'an carrying the weight of the name Noonien Singh.
Additionally there have been a couple of episodes about the struggle to maintain peace with the Klingons and overcome the trauma and paranoia that follows war (and often incites new ones.) This doesn't feel like the show to leave "nuke the site from orbit, its the only way to be sure" as its only option for dealing with the Gorn in perpetuity.
So there you have it, I'm cautiously optimistic that we could see a shift from inscrutable killing machines to fully developed civilization in the span of a season or two. Emphasis on the cautiously. This franchise has set conditions under which attempted genocide, narrowly averted, is the only way to resolve the conflict on far too many occasions.
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Autistic traits - a lived experience
Perfectionism - this has been the bane of my life; it works its way into every aspect of my day to day experience. I tie myself in knots trying to achieve ‘full potential’ (the 100% outcome) and to be the best at everything and anything I put my mind to. My attention to detail, whilst well suited to certain aspects of life and work, means that some things take twice as long as they might otherwise - like writing the perfect email or the perfect letter (so often a handwritten letter making it as far as the postbox must be the third or fourth iteration. Similarly, with work projects the intensity of effort put in from the start can easily lead to exhaustion and burnout… and the work therefore being left incomplete, unfinished, and calling for attention
Black and white thinking - a bedfellow of the perfectionism. All or nothing. This often means my instinct is to give people only one chance - if they mess up “it’s over”; this is particularly true with those closest to me, as I have invested a deeper level of trust in them. Woe betide anyone who does not treat this open-hearted trust with care. All of this despite my having studied psychology and the notion of ‘good enough’ and the 80/20 approach. If my husband and I have a serious argument then it’s clearly “the end of our marriage” - luckily so far he has managed to talk me around from this extreme! He says I only have two gears… neutral and 6 (in bed or 100 mph)
Taking things at face value - to the point of gullibility. The school bully would tell me I had to sit in the cold changing room corridor until she called me back into the common room or I would have to explain myself to the headmaster for disobeying an older pupil, so out I would go… with laughter emanating from the other side of the door. I have a high IQ, but I trust others implicitly and cannot fathom someone being ill-intentioned; I am easily manipulated and taken advantage of
Executive function challenges - I am intelligent and highly capable of many things I put my mind to, and I am definitely one to call in a crisis (hyperfocus is my superpower). But I cannot for the life of me keep my home organised and the past four decades are littered with ‘the unfinished’ - higher education courses, work projects, baby books for my children, family photograph albums. My master to do list has 221 items on it. Some have languished there for years (even though they require attention and completion). I have 20 different to do lists in a bid to prioritise: today, ASAP, home, work - and so on. Anything with a deadline is assigned a date and automatically appears on the today list as this date arrives; then it just depends how my executive functioning is that day. Some afternoons I’ll exclaim “I am BOSSING life!” (I talk out loud to myself - another autistic trait apparently), others I need to leave the to do lists and reconnect with nature instead
Non-gender conformity - my childhood was marked by Corgi cars and Lego; I loved Sylvanian Families too, but more for exploring psychology and the interplay of family dynamics than for their cuteness. Not for me anything pink or fluffy. I am much more at home in trousers than a dress (I tend to wear the same clothes for days on end, usually a variation of jeans and a jumper), and I like nothing more than geeking out on cars (their aesthetic as important as their performance) and ski equipment. Perhaps unsurprisingly, I drive fast and ski fast. I love fixing things around the house - my one successful contribution to domesticity!
Obsessive interests - for me this has been intense focus on the human experience. The study (over several decades) of anthropology, philosophy, psychology, psychoanalysis, psychotherapy, and neuroscience; also an obsession with medical research and finding the flaws in potential misdiagnosis or malpractice (including cardiology, neurology, psychiatry)
Mental health challenges - I have a history of eating disorders and low level anxiety. The former began at 11 (my arrival at secondary school) and ended at 30. Incidentally, this was when my husband and I embarked on our relationship and was the first time I had felt truly seen, understood, and supported. I am able to be myself with my husband in a way I have not experienced with anyone else (not even my close family); no need for the masking or camouflaging of my true self. However, neither of us knew the full extent of what this actually involved until I was in my 40s and the burden of life demands led to burnout
History of sexual assault (as an adult) - again, I have no doubt that this has to do with taking people at face value, trust and pure faith in the goodness of humans, and being naive to others’ intentions. This has not been helped by my fight or flight response, which turns out to be “freeze” in stressful situations. This has happened on several occasions, and the first experience did not integrate itself into my conscious effectively enough to act as a warning for future occurrences
Direct honesty to the point of bluntness - I am aware of the social expectation to pad brutal truth with niceties, but it depends how I’m feeling on any given day as to whether I am able to offer these platitudes alongside an honest opinion; telling a white lie to avoid hurting someone’s feelings does not come naturally to me, but I can understand the social construct around such lies. Lying feels like swimming against the current, I’d rather be living a straightforward life of full truth
Exhaustion after social interaction - whilst I enjoy spending time with friends, I much prefer these interactions on a one-to-one basis; or at the most perhaps four of us enjoying lunch together. Large gatherings tend to set me on edge even weeks before the day itself, not helped by prosopagnosia which means it is unlikely I will recognise people who know we have met before. I have learnt that it is easier to act as though one has met someone (and confuse a stranger with this) than to offer an acquaintance a hand by way of introduction (to which they then take umbrage). An exception to my social angst - a room packed full of strangers - is a party at which I can dance; I lose myself in the music and it brings sheer joy
Hypersensitivity (sensory processing issues) - I could not swallow lumpy food as a child, particularly if it was soft such as yogurt with fruit in it; the lumps had to be strained out or I would gag. Even the thought of rice pudding makes me anticipate the same sensation. Bright sunshine in my eyes makes me feel anxious and unwell, particularly in winter when the sun is low in the sky. Wrinkles in clothes; labels; certain fabrics; interruptive noise - the buzzing of a fly, the dripping of a tap, a radiator on full, the sound of chewing or swallowing, heavy breathing; there are many more - but all make me want to retreat (or run as fast as I can) to a quiet, darkened space!
Food - as a child I was referred to as being like a hamster; I would sit with food stored in my cheeks. I could not eat red meat and would be left at the table long after Sunday lunch had finished, with a cold slab of lamb or beef in front of me (I later learnt I lack the digestive enzyme for red meat, but I think it was also something about the texture as I could manage spaghetti bolognese and beef burgers. I lean towards crispy foods, and eating the same thing every day is quite usual for me. If left to my own devices I would subsist on a diet of cheese on gluten free crackers (I’m coeliac and have Hashimoto’s thyroiditis, so gluten is out)
Interoception - I can often reach the end of a day and realise I have forgotten to eat anything; it is highly likely that I will have forgotten to drink any water all day either. Even when I manage to eat, the drinking side of things seems to elude me. Due to chronic pain as a backdrop to my every day, I’m also seemingly unaware of certain pain signals (usually caused by acute injury). In the past this has meant continuing a sporting or daily activity with a fractured bone or torn ligaments until it is no longer possible to ignore the injury
Mimicry - perhaps harder to discern in a medical setting, but I will often wait for cues as to how to interact before mirroring the person I’m with; this will often result in my adopting their accent too, which I am fully aware of but can’t seem to curtail. I also often finish a movie and realise that I have assumed the characteristics of one of the fictional characters I have been watching; I need to sit still for 20 minutes to come back into my own space. The only “me” I trust as being truly myself is the one I find at home on a quiet weekend with just my husband, children and dog for company
Sleep issues - where do I begin?! I find it hard to transition from day to night; a natural night owl, I will stay up into the early hours regardless of what my body is trying to tell me (see interoception). I also have little sense of the passing of time; so I can put my children to bed and know that I should be in bed by 10pm or 11pm, but will find myself eventually climbing into bed at 2.30am with no real sense of where six hours have disappeared to. This means I am sleep deprived, often functioning on an average of only five hours sleep each night
A deep thinker and feeling ‘different’ - even when surrounded by loved ones, a sense of otherness prevailed throughout my childhood and into adulthood. I sought safe ground in the form of my journals, writing profusely day in and day out - words spilling onto the page; reams of thoughts on my theory of being. ‘Cogito ergo sum’ my anchor in a sea of uncertainty. Well-intentioned family would urge me to leave my journals and join them in conversation, but in those conversations I felt lost - as though I understood only half the language, grasping at the underlying meaning of it all. On a clear night I would often gaze up at the stars, tears streaming down my face; “I want to come home now, I want to come home” my sorrowful mantra. I had landed on the wrong planet; I was the same, but different
Time alone - no matter how much I love my family, I will always prefer to spend time alone. It is a basic need and how I recharge my batteries. In my mid-20s I was so overwhelmed by life that I booked a flight to Australia (I live in the UK) and moved around various rented beach cottages for a few months, spending day after day on my own, walking on the beach and playing my guitar. I found a small group of wonderful friends who, looking back, were almost certainly the same tribe as me. I would spend time with them, singing and dancing, then time alone - rinse and repeat; this worked for a while and I was genuinely the happiest I’ve ever been, but eventually I bought a 4x4 as an escape route ‘to drive the coast solo’
Emotional fluency - I found myself unable to engage with my emotions, and to understand what they were, until in my late 20s I embarked on an art therapy foundation course and ascertained that sorrow and sadness would pour forth when I listened to music or switched off my analytical brain and created some form of art. At the time I thought these modalities were the whole key and that I had finally discovered how to open the door to myself; the real me, my truth. Looking back with the perspective of hindsight I can see that this was only a glimpse through the keyhole
Social cues and nonverbal communication - to think about social cues brings back awkward memories of incredibly awkward moments. It is as though at birth most people were given an instruction manual for life and some of us missed out. I feel as though I have for the most part made it up as I go along, finding a way to navigate 21st century life with some level of effectiveness and success but often getting it very, very wrong; and then invariably spending far too much energy working out what I should have done differently and kicking myself for “not having known”. This extends to not having a very strong radar for facial expressions - I can see the obvious (rage, abject fear, grief etched on a face) but not the nuances
Inability to edit conversation - if I start talking about an experience, it is likely I will go into every possible detail (even when I try to check in and remind myself that this can bore people and to keep words to the bare minimum for the story being told). If I start talking about one of my favourite topics, good luck to the listener! I would like to think I provide them with fascinating facts they will feel enlightened by and which will prove life-changing for them; however, this rarely proves to be the case much to my bemusement. I find it really hard to understand that some subjects just aren’t as interesting to others as they are to me. Like the risks of anticholinergic medication in the elderly population and those with dementia. Or art therapy as one of the most effective modalities for being able to help children access their emotions. Or the genius of Leonardo Da Vinci. When I was 21, I attended a party and at the dinner sat next to someone who had requested this specific seating arrangement by the host… I figured this out and decided to dazzle him with how amazing Da Vinci was; at the end of the night he told me that it had been the most boring conversation he’d ever had)
Planning ahead - I drive my husband crazy (in general), but specifically because of my need to plan ahead, to manage my expectations of what will take place within the next hour or two; for example, “Ok when we get home I’ll do X, you do Y, and the children can do Z”. Whereas he just wants to… g o w i t h t h e f l o w! But he gets it. In an ideal world I would be appraised of the layout of any new building I need to visit (for work or other); another way to manage expectations and lessen the potential for anxiety. Literally “The main door is here, then you turn left, then you take the stairs, then you walk down the corridor…”
Stimming - these aren’t behaviours I’d ever really thought of as stimming, but in social situations (or the lead up to them) I will subconsciously pick my finger cuticles until one or more are bleeding; while driving long distances I bite at the inside of my lips, usually until they bleed; in moments of anxiety I find myself pacing and/or wringing my hands; I click my fingers repetitively; will always find something to fiddle with, usually a pen to twirl in my hand; repeat “Ok, ok, ok, ok” or “I can do this, I can do this, I can do this, I can do this”; one of my favourite ways to self-sooth is doodling
Selective mutism - at the age of 11, on starting secondary school, I lost my ability to speak to strangers. Which meant almost everyone I encountered on a daily basis. Looking back now I can see that I had gone into a deep state of shock. I stopped speaking and I stopped eating. I withdrew into a limited world of white/beige food (rice, bread, cheese) and silence. I folded my arms across my chest as a barrier. One girl I met recently reminded me of this - she had been in the sixth form when I arrived and remembered me for my huddled posture, crossed arms, and mutism. Only weeks before, I had excitedly asked my father to arrange saxophone and Italian lessons for me. The saxophone teacher turned out to have ulterior motives which sickened me to my core… another shock to the system. I was lost, cast adrift in a stormy sea on the darkest of nights, and I had no idea I could tell anyone. Any sense of self I had developed by then evaporated
Burnout - I look back now and can see the major moments of burnout; when I was in my mid-teens I left school with chronic fatigue and spent a great deal of time in bed; in my mid-20s I packed up and left for Australia for peace and quiet (I even changed my name when I arrived there, creating an entirely new persona); and 2022, approaching my mid-40s (which is what led me to embark on this particular journey). Interestingly, my mid-30s were a whole other level of exhausting, but at the time I had two tiny children depending on me not to drop any balls… somehow I pushed on through
Co-morbid ADHD traits - whilst my attention to detail is to the nth degree, there are times (not least in week four of my hormone cycle) when I make careless mistakes and chastise myself for these; I can be easily distracted - unless in hyperfocus mode on something of particular interest - and it can take me a while to settle back into full focus on what I was doing; I often fail to finish tasks as I forget about them (I describe this as jumping from lilypad to lilypad until the first few lilypads are a distant memory); I geek out on lists and systems, files and folders, creating order from chaos… however, unless a task is aligned with something I love or I’m excited about, I can be extremely disorganised; I will actively avoid things I don’t like doing (think tax return) until the absolute last minute - at which time it is like birthing a baby whale; I often lose things of significance - such as external drives with family photos, my wallet, phone, car keys, house keys
A few other things…
Synesthesia - I have sequence-space synesthesia (see my separate post; I envision the year laid out as an oval with the months at various points, and as time moves forwards I move along the oval)
Flat tone of voice - I have a monotone speaking voice, but I can sing with perfect pitch (and play pieces of music by ear having heard them briefly)
Numbers - I’m fascinated by numbers and patterns; I remember phone numbers, registration numbers, driving license numbers, credit card numbers, post codes, and birthdays with ease
Order - I love lists and plans and spreadsheets, and will spend hours working on data analyses
To be continued…
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Plsss I need a happy ending for 39😭 okay so what if there has been an another animatronic but he didn't pay attention to them that much or he disliked them for whatever reasons..and when that new bish tries to kill him they destroy him when he was distracted:(im:(dying:(
"Inferior design detected. Please leave immediately or you will be escorted from the building."
"W-Wait! What about Plushie?!” 39 shouted as his newer model grabbed ahold of him, forcing him to drop the gun. He thrashed around angrily while being dragged to the exit, away from the corpse of his only human friend.
Sam Clydeson..a man he was just starting to get along with. He hated him in the beginning, especially last night, but he was willing to forgive him before his replacement was scheduled to arrive. All he wanted was for things to end on a good note between them.
But no..they ended on a much worse note.
That goddamn Accurate39 killed Sam before they could reconcile face-to-face. And he was forced to make a choice that no bunny should ever have to make.
He gained a friend and immediately lost a friend within seconds.
The pain he felt was unbearable. It was...almost as worse as the day he died and woke up as this stupid rabbit.
Now everything was being taken away from him again, including his only home.
"You ASSHOLE!! WHY GIVE ME A CHOICE AND NOT HIM?!!” He screamed. “THAT’S NOT FAIR!!”
“Nothing is fair.” Accurate39 pushed the door open, glaring at his counterpart while holding him by the ear. “Now stop resisting and accept your fate-”
“Oh shut up.”
As his ear twitched towards the voice, he looked over just in time to get struck by a large piece of metal, leaving a scar on his face and knocking off his glasses. He yelled and dropped 39, stumbling back before he could finally see who it was.
39 couldn’t believe it either, his jaw hanging open in shock at his rescuer:
You, the only other animatronic active here. All this time he had forgotten you were still around. Last time you two talked--about a year ago--you got into a really bad argument and stopped hanging out, going off to do your own thing and avoid crossing paths with him in the studio.
It was truly the loneliest year of his life until Sam came along.
Plushie tried telling him to stop being a baby and just talk things out with you, as he too was going nuts from the loneliness. But 39 never had the guts to do that, insisting he didn’t need anyone besides his plush-self.
So why did you show up now?
Why would you save him?
He was frozen in shock as you beat up Accurate39 with the ladder, dislocating his jaw and breaking both of his ears. Sparks were flying as he tumbled to the floor, writhing in pain. You still didn’t think that was enough, and so you stomped on his chest and ripped off his face.
“Who’s the “inferior design” now, asshole?!” You spat, before you looked to 39 and then the gun that laid beside him. “Get the gun.”
Finally coming to his senses, he shakily grabbed the weapon and rushed over with the intention to hand it to you. But you shook your head and stepped off of Accurate39. “No. You finish this. Make him suffer for what he did.” You insisted.
“..r-righto..” He loaded the gun and scowled at the broken rabbit on the floor. “You piece of shit..you absolute SCUMBAG!! THIS IS FOR SAM, YOU EMOTIONLESS HEARTLESS WORTHLESS SPINELESS BASTARD!!! DIE!!”
“A-A-Assaulting Fazbear Entertainment property-y-y is-”
Yet Accurate39′s feeble attempts at mercy fell on deaf ears as 39 shot him in his endoskeleton head over and over until no more bullets remained in the chamber.
“I was gonna go quietly, but you fuckin’ crossed the line.” Tears filled his eyes. “Rot in hell.”
“Nicely done.”
He had almost forgotten you were standing right behind him and spun around, holding the gun for dear life. You sighed and calmly put your hand out. “Hey, it’s okay. Let me see it. You’re safe, I promise.”
For a few long moments, he didn’t move. But eventually he handed it over to you, and you stowed it in your chest cavity for safe keeping.
Then all was quiet. He wasn’t sure what to say or where to start.
“You know..you’re a prick for not telling me you were getting replaced.”
At first 39 tensed, though his shoulders slumped as he nodded. “I-I know..” He looked down at the floor in shame. “I’m such a fucking asshole...why save me, [y/n]? Thought maybe..you’d be happier if he was here instead. I mean look at me. I-I’m pathetic..I didn’t even have the balls to save my own skin!”
“But you had the balls to forgive that Sam guy.” You pointed out. “Trust me, I wanted to kill him, too. I didn’t like the guy to begin with. But when you forgave him I was thinking..”damn, that takes guts, dude”. And I knew you were trying to change for the better. I’m sure he forgives you for the seven nights of hell you put him through, and...”
You walked over to hug him, making the teal rabbit freeze in shock. “I forgive you, too. For everything. I never hated you.”
He didn’t expect forgiveness this quickly. It made him tremble as he hugged you back, finally breaking down over all the horrible shit that happened this week.
“[Y/n]..I...fuck, I don’t hate you either!” He sobbed into your shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I’m all messed up..I-I just want everythin’ to go back to the way it was before. Please don’t leave me, too..p-please...”
“I won’t, 39. I’m here to stay.”
“Hey when I can join the hug?!”
Hearing Plushie’s voice, 39 looked up and sniffled, looking at the toy with a smile. “Plushie..get your ass over here now.”
With happiness, he hopped over and hugged both of your legs for a while.
And in that moment, all was well.
"So uh...what about the body in the office?”
39 whimpered at the thought of seeing it again, taking off his glasses to wipe away his tears as he stepped back. “I don’t know..I..really don’t w-wanna see him right now.”
“Then don’t worry about it. Let someone else take care of it.” You smiled and patted his shoulder. “Remember, we’re not responsible for any sort of death or dismemberment.”
“..ahah, you got the rules here down to a T don’tcha, mate?” He laughed softly. “Let’s go catch up.”
He may have lost one friend, but regained an old one.
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Reflection Of You | Chapter 17
Genre: Historical!AU, Timetraveller!AU/ Different Dimension, Romance
Pairing: SUGA x Reader, Yoongi x Reader
Characters: Normal!Reader, Idol!Suga, King!Yoongi, Guard!Seokjin, Guard!Jungkook, RoyalAdvisor!Namjoon, Servant!Jimin, Servant!Hoseok, Prince!Taehyung
Summary: Confirming you were dating the famous Min Suga of BTS, you knew you were bound to make some enemies. But what you didn’t expect was to be cursed, leading you to meet a cold-hearted, arrogant king that shares the same face as your rapper lover.
It’s hard for Yoongi to open up. It’s hard for him to show the feelings that he’s been bottling up all those years. But maybe, just maybe, it’s time to let all of them go.
Seokjin had come to inform you that Yoongi requested your company for dinner in the dining room. He waited for you to freshen up and escorted you and Jimin there. It was like deja vu as you took your seat to wait for Yoongi.
“The great king of Joseon, Min Yoongi, will be making his entrance.” Jungkook announced. Seokjin and Jimin bowed.
“Long live the king.” They chorused. You remained seated this time, not even standing or bowing to Yoongi. Yoongi entered and stared at your still seated form, a small smile grazing his lips. You will never change and that’s what he liked about you.
“Still refusing to bow down?”
“You’ll live long enough, even without my wishes.” You scoffed. Yoongi chuckled and sat down in his spot. He waved at everyone to exit the room, leaving the two of you alone.
“How was gardening?” Yoongi asked as you poured alcohol into his cup.
“It was so fun! I learnt a lot from the gardener! We planted some seeds and some plants that were already in pots.” You rambled.
“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” Yoongi reached out to pat your head. The simple gesture was something he did so often now that it didn’t even seem weird to the both of you anymore.
“And I didn’t know advisor Namjoon is also an avid gardener. Apparently, he waters the garden plants every day and he even has this huge plum tree!” You continued, even using your arms to try and show how big the tree was. But of course, it was an underestimation. Yoongi watched you with amusement, taking a sip of alcohol.
“Is he now?” Yoongi asked. Of course, he knew that Namjoon liked plants and did all that but he thought he would entertain you a little.
“Yeah. Jimin says the plums are sweet when harvested and the plum wine that is made from them is really good. I hope to try it sometime.” You nodded with a hopeful smile.
“I can get it for you now.”
“There’s no need-”
“Namjoon!” Yoongi shouted. As if they were listening in on the conversation, Namjoon immediately opened the door with a bow.
“(y/n) here heard about the plum wine we make from the harvest of plums from your tree. She would like to try some. Fill a bottle for her to have now.” Yoongi said. Namjoon nodded and promptly exited the room.
“I didn’t mean I needed to try it now, Yoongi. Geez.” You scoffed. Yoongi ignored your comment and continued eating. Namjoon returned with a small ceramic decanter. He bowed and knelt by the side of the table to fill the small cups with the plum wine.
“Have some.” You said to Namjoon. Namjoon turned to Yoongi, who nodded his head in approval.
“Thank you.” Namjoon bowed his head as you took the decanter to pour some into a new cup for him. The 3 of you clinked cups before taking a drink. It was sweet and fruity.
“It’s so good!” You complimented. Namjoon couldn’t help but smile.
“I’m happy you like it.” He laughed. When he was done, he bowed his head and exited the room.
“What about you? Did you have a good... meeting?” You asked Yoongi slowly. Yoongi raised an eyebrow at you trying to start small talk with him but he shrugged, being vague with his answer.
“Whether it was good or bad, I hope you feel happy or relieved that it’s at least over.” You smiled. Yoongi stopped and stared at you.
“What?”
“Nothing. Just thinking about something else.” He shook his head and continued eating. You blinked but shrugged and ate as well. Yoongi picked out the bigger pieces of boneless braised meat and placed it onto your plate, surprising you. You looked at the piece of meat as if it was a foreign substance and looked up at him.
“You seem to always struggle to remove the bones. And you give the boneless meat to the other me. I’ll do the same for you.” He excused. You couldn’t help but laugh as Yoongi acknowledged the ‘other him’.
“So you acknowledge that there’s another you somewhere out there?”
“I never said I didn’t. You just don’t tell me much about him, how different or similar he is from me.” He said.
“What do you want to know?” You asked. Obviously, both Yoongis were rather different but as you got to know the Yoongi in front of you, you do seem to find similarities every now and then.
“What can you tell me about him?”
“Hmm... I mean, you look exactly the same, you already know that. You’re both deathly pale and bear resemblance to cats. You both love tangerines and you’re both night people instead of day people. Not that big a fan of sweets...” You listed out.
“I fail to see how I look like a cat.” Yoongi blinked. It took a long while for your Yoongi to come to terms with the whole ‘lil meow meow’ thing too.
“Trust me. It’s there. Oh and you both squint like this when you’re focusing on something.” You giggled, mimicking him.
“You’re finding too much amusement in this.”
“I don’t think I know you well enough to tell the differences. But my Yoongi... When you first meet him, he just seems cold, guarded and introverted. Yes, he is introverted. But he’s not cold at all.” You said, swallowing your food.
“He’s guarded because he had been wounded before by the rest of the world. And even when we got together, I realised that he just isn’t one to really show his feelings, or at least verbally. He shows his love and care through his actions. That’s what I liked about him. He was very comfortable to be around and he made me lower my guard too.” You smiled.
“He sounds like a perfect human.”
“He’s not, he’s far from it. I am the same. We’ve both come to realise it. Sure, we’ve had our fights and arguments but at the end of the day, we work it out. It takes two hands to clap, right?” You looked up at Yoongi.
“You miss him.” Yoongi stated.
“Of course. Even before we were together, he was my safety blanket for years.” You said sadly, looking at your food.
“When I’m sad, he makes me laugh or he cries with me. He worries for me, even when he should be worrying about himself.” Tears blurred your vision. Suddenly, you felt someone pull your head to a chest.
Yoongi didn’t know what to say. Just like your Yoongi, he wasn’t good with words, he only knew how to show he cared with his actions.
“Sorry, I digressed.” You said.
“It’s okay.” Yoongi whispered, stroking the back of your head. He used the end of his sleeve to wipe your tears. Sitting back down, the two of you continued talking as you finished the food. You wanted to ask about Mirae but you knew it was a sensitive topic for Yoongi so you didn’t bring it up.
“Later, can we walk in the garden?” You asked.
“That excited about the garden?” Yoongi teased. You flushed, clearing your throat sheepishly.
“Of course, we can. I can’t wait to see your hard work.” Yoongi finished. That made you feel even more embarrassed. It was like a child pestering her parent to see her artwork.
“I heard the garden was your mother’s?” You gulped. Yoongi seemed to falter for a few seconds before straightening up.
“It’s not hers but she did enjoy maintaining it. She worked very closely with the royal gardener to constantly upgrade it to be better. Kind of like what you did today.” Yoongi explained. You nodded your head slowly.
“Keeping it alive and maintained now is the best I can do for her, even after her death. She would not be pleased with me letting all her hard work go to waste. I’m not really good with plants but I’m glad Namjoon and the gardener take care of it. And now you help maintain it too. My mother would have greatly appreciated that.” Yoongi said.
“She sounds like an amazing woman.”
“Hmm.” Yoongi hummed. You mentally scolded yourself, of all topics, why did you have to mention Yoongi’s mother?
“I felt like I lost the opportunity to get to know her better. My father never let her care for me as a normal mother should. He wanted her to care for him only and that was her flaw, constantly kowtowing to him.” Yoongi continued.
“I don’t think it’s a flaw.” You said.
“It’s not a flaw to give up all free will and follow a man, who’s not even loyal to you, like a dog? That you neglect your kid?” Yoongi raised an eyebrow.
“That’s what you saw, Yoongi. I’m not saying you’re wrong, you could be right but was that how she really felt? Did you ever know her true intentions behind her actions? Maybe she never meant for you to feel neglected. I’m sure you had moments with her where she showered you with love.” You said.
“Yes, I had my moments with her. But they were always short lived because my father ruined it. Every time I tried to tell myself she actually loves me, she proves me wrong.” Yoongi’s fists shook.
“What if she was protecting you?” You asked.
CLANG!
Yoongi stood up with such force that the low table of bowls and cutlery flipped over, spilling food remnants all over the floor. You stared at the mess in shock, looking up at Yoongi. He breathed heavily, standing over you.
“Leave.” He warned.
“I’m sorry, Yoongi. I shouldn’t have-”
“I don’t want your apologies. I said leave.” His eyes flashed anger as he shook. You immediately scrambled to your feet and pulled the door open.
“(y/n) nim!” Jimin rushed to you. They had all heard the loud clash but were too afraid of entering the room. You stared at Jimin, lips pressed into a firm line. Turning away from him, you ran to your room.
“(y/n) nim!” Jimin ran after you, leaving Hoseok, Seokjin, Jungkook and Namjoon. Usually, you would have fought back or argued with him but seeing the resentment and anger in Yoongi’s eyes, you knew he was warning you to leave before his temper took over so you decided to make a break for it. You were actually afraid he would hurt you.
“J-Jeonha-” The 4 that remained bowed but all they felt was the silk of their king’s robes brushing against them as he exited the dining room.
“(y/n) nim.” Jimin stood outside your door, knocking softly. He could hear the soft echoes of your sobs. It was like everything was back to the way it was on day 1 when you arrived.
“I-I just n-need to catch m-my b-breath.” You tried to sound okay to Jimin, who didn’t believe you one bit.
“Can I come in?” He asked softly.
“I’d r-rather you n-not.” You croaked from your dark corner in the room. Jimin sighed. He didn’t want to leave your side, he wanted to make sure that you weren’t hurt, he wanted to comfort you and stop your cries. However, he knew that he shouldn’t force you too.
“Please.” He tried for the last time.
“Come.” Your voice was soft but he heard it. Slowly the door creaked open and Jimin came in to see your huddled figure. Immediately, he went to help you up and led you to the bed to lie down.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you.” Jimin whispered. You shook your head, you didn’t want him to feel guilty.
“It’s not your fault. It’s all mine. I shouldn’t have pushed him.” You said.
“What happened?”
“I brought up his mother. And it just escalated too fast.” You explained, regret written all over your face. Jimin softened as your eyes casted down with guilt. He took a clean handkerchief from the cupboard and gently wipe your face of its tears. He didn’t interrupt you and instead continued to listen as you explained what happened in the room.
“Jeonha’s relationship with his mother was always a touchy subject for him. But you didn’t know that.” Jimin spoke.
“But I knew he was getting angry and uncomfortable. And yet, I continued to question him and doubt his feelings, the feelings he had been bottling up since he was a child.” You said.
“That’s one of the reasons he resents Taehyung gun.” Jimin explained.
“What do you mean?”
“You know how Taehyung gun’s mother is. She was bubbly, kind and loving to Taehyung. She didn’t care that he wasn’t crown prince, he was just her son to her. Jeonha hated seeing them together.” Jimin started.
“Jeonha wasn’t wrong in a sense... They did share their moments, like I said, they would be in the garden together. But all it took was for the king to call her and she would just leave jeonha there to stay with him. To jeonha, who was just a child, that was betrayal. Countless times.” Jimin explained.
“And all I did was doubt him.”
“Not true. You were right too. Jeonha didn’t see the fear in his mother’s eyes. She did try to speak up but what good comes out of defying the king. The king who can hurt your child, the crown prince.” Jimin smiled sadly.
“How do you know all this Jimin? Aren’t you about the same age as Yoongi?” You tilted your head.
“My mother worked as one of the queen consort’s servants before me. She saw everything and comforted the queen consort when she was upset.”
“So Yoongi’s mother was trying to protect Yoongi...”
“Yes. The king was very obsessed with the queen consort. He didn’t want to let anyone else her, even his own child. Yes, he had a harem of concubines but he always kept her by his side and never wanted her away for too long. She was someone special to him and he wanted her to only look at him. He was willing to hurt anyone who took her away, jeonha included.” Jimin said.
“Jeonha grew up hating his mother. But a part of him still held to the few memories he had of her. The garden, for example. His mother is also the reason jeonha doesn’t believe in love.” He continued.
“That’s horrible. He must have felt so much hurt and felt all alone.” You hung your head down.
“But I think you staying by his side has changed him.” Jimin lifted your head up with his finger. You stared at him in confusion. He giggled and just wiped your remaining tears.
“Let’s get you washed up.” He helped you stand up and led you to the bathroom. You brushed your teeth and he combed your hair, helping you change out of your hanbok and into sleepwear.
“Wait, Jimin. What did you mean by-”
“Get some rest, (y/n) nim. I’ll see you when the sun rises.” He smiled softly after tucking you into bed.
“Goodnight, Jimin.” You yawned. Jimin exited your room. He stared at your door for a few seconds before he finally was able to turn and walk away.
-
Yoongi stood in his garden, his anger was slowly starting to dissipate. He scoffed, this dinner was supposed to be relaxing and a chance for him to get to know more about where you come from, ending with the both of you taking a walk in the garden with you showing him your new plants and flowers proudly.
But you just had to bring his mother up.
“You always ruin everything.” He said to no one in particular. Well, he was referencing his mother, who wasn’t even alive anymore.
“Why does it always have to end up this way?” Yoongi was now asking himself. He clenched his fists as the resentment for his mother bubbled within him.
However, what caused his anger to fade was that he couldn’t ignore the memory of your eyes and how much fear was in them. As if you were actually afraid that he was going to hurt you.
“I’m sorry, Yoongi. I shouldn’t have-”
You actually apologised to him. He had expected you to argue back or stand against him but all you did was back away with fear and leave as you are told. What was happening to him? There was a dull ache in his chest that was never there before. When you spoke of your Yoongi, why did a new determination to prove that he was the better Yoongi appear?
Yoongi sighed for the nth time. He lifted his head and stared at your window, which was now closed. Were you asleep? Or were you crying?
“I swear.” Yoongi cursed himself. He subconsciously started walking and now found himself standing before your door. Gently, he knocked but there was no reply. He quietly opened the door to see you asleep.
“Yoongi...” You called in your sleep.
“I’m here.” Yoongi whispered. He honestly didn’t know if you were calling him or the other Yoongi but he was going to assume it was him you were calling out to in your sleep.
“Just let me...” He didn’t know what came over him but soon, Yoongi was in your bed, holding you close to him.
“What?” Your eyes shot open in shock, ready to kick the intruder in your bed. But looking down, you saw the locks of blonde. His face pressed into your abdomen as he held you tightly. You felt his tears wetting your night robe and the skin beneath.
“She told me she loved me. But she never came back.”
“I’m sorry, Yoongi.” You said softly, running your fingers through his locks. Even though Yoongi was slowly letting his guard down around you, this was the first time he let all his walls down.
“I’ll never hurt you.” Yoongi looked up at you, moving up so your eyes met at the same level.
“I’ll never hurt you. I promise.” He repeated, cupping your cheek.
“Please don’t be afraid of me. Please.” He cried. You still didn’t respond but you did wipe his tears, drawing his head to your chest as you comforted him. Now you really saw it. You saw Yoongi as a child that was hurt by the world and just wanted someone to be there for him and tell him that he is loved.
~~
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: ̗̀➛ 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐈𝐓 𝐔𝐏 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐒
𝙚𝙥𝙞𝙨𝙤𝙙𝙚 𝙩𝙬𝙤 ; 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙪𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙜𝙪𝙧𝙤𝙨 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙩𝙬𝙤
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─꒱ in which we peak into how life is as the in-law of the fushiguro family after marrying megumi。
─꒱ feat. fushiguro megumi, fushiguro toji & fushiguro tsumiki
─꒱ warnings ; profanity, chaotic hot shit
─꒱ notes ; OMG SHOULD I MAKE A SPECIAL WHERE YOU GUYS SEND IN ASKS ABOUT HOW THE NEIGHBOURS REACT TO THE FUSHIGUROS EYVBIJX HAHAHA
─꒱ episode one | 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐈𝐓 𝐔𝐏 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐒 | episode three
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꒰꒰ you love your father-in-law, like you really do love toji, but that worm of his needs to be in a fucking cage.
a loud scream comes from the top of your lungs early in the morning, eyelashes blinking to shoo the drowsiness away after it's been awakened by the warm sun rays that lay atop your eyelids. as much as you love waking up in the morning in bed with your husband, you don't get that luxury sometimes.
"y/n?!" hearing the loud footsteps of your husband rushing towards with another scream from your sister-in-law, the both of them slam the door wide open. "what happened?!" toji is the last to appear to the scene, his expression more on the sight of confusion compared to the worried and panicked facials on megumi and tsumiki's face. "what the fuck?"
"get this fucking worm off me!"
꒰꒰ if that worm wasn't adopted by toji it would've been on fucking sight. that shit uglier then sukuna's stock of human girls for his bitch soup.
꒰꒰ after you told megumi what toji had told you when you were left alone with him ( the sex question ), you are no longer allowed to be alone at home with him. megumi made sure that the dogs are around.
꒰꒰ you found out the hard way that toji has some lameass dad jokes.
you and tsumiki decided to order sushi for dinner due to the fact the both of you were too lazy to cook, seeing how you and megumi came back tired from a mission and toji from one as well, you all felt bad having tsumiki cook all on her own so you bought food instead.
"i'd avoid sushi if i were you, it seems fishy." toji says just as you all prepared the table to eat. you and megumi freeze on the spot, the trio of you all turning your heads towards toji who sports a serious face. megumi groans, "don't ever do that again."
"i thought it was pretty good." tsumiki lets out a small giggle, you smiling that toji was now comfortable to even make jokes after everything. megumi turns to counter his sister's opnion, through you all swore you heard a stifled chuckle come from toji.
'he's laughing at his own jokes!'
꒰꒰ the effort is appreciated though.
꒰꒰ sometimes you and tsumiki buy too many stuff at the groceries, you call megumi to summon nue and get his shikigami to carry it for you two.
꒰꒰ toji offered ( jokingly ) to let you guys use his worm as a storage while you went shopping for groceries once, let's just say he got smacked in the face with a pan.
꒰꒰ it's his fault for joking while you were cooking.
꒰꒰ you were used to waking up three in the morning for anything and seeing your husband and father-in-law tying some burglar or assassin up, but no way were the rest of the family used to you doing the work.
"y/n?" megumi comes walking down the stairs with his father, turning on the lights in the dark hour to gain a shred of shine. the two males see in full picture that you had just finished punching someone in the face, the other hand holding them up by the collar as it physically shows that whoever this guy dressed in black had just failed in whatever mission he had in mind.
"who's that?" toji raises a brow, more so on the fact that he is impressed you beat up the intruder without a single sound in the dead of night. the look of displeasure shows you were in no mood, wanting nothing more than what you had walked downstairs for before this piece of shit decided to ruin your night. you throw the man in black on to the floor, scowling.
"all i wanted was a glass of fucking water, not an assassin who can't even use the front door."
꒰꒰ when you and tsumiki make food in the kitchen, expect a knife to go flying at least once.
꒰꒰ you don't know if you should be thankful to have tsumiki as your sister or not, she's unintentionally scary and she's not even trying.
꒰꒰ somehow you always end up walking into an argument between megumi and toji ( usually after leaving the kitchen to get a snack ) but you instantly walk out because the last time you didn't, shit was ugly.
"hey... can we all just calm down?" tsumiki is in between toji and megumi who are constantly throwing insults and such at each other, whatever argument they were having she tries to settle it down without anyone getting injured.
"i can't when this pathetic excuse of a father can't grow the fuck up!" megumi bellows, glaring at the older man who lets out a tsk and a frown. "watch what you're saying, i'll hand down an ass whoopin' on ya."
'this seems interesting.' you sip on your boba after walking out from the kitchen, the bowl of popcorn just beside you as you ate and speculated. it was normal for the father-son duo to have their fights, usually it was fun to watch because it ended up as good entertainment for you. so in result: you have no intention in stopping them.
"no, guys, seriously..." tsumiki pleads, her hands slightly apart to try and force space between them. though her efforts were thrown out the window when in complete sync did they yell right back at tsumiki. "just mind your own business!"
'they punched her!' the boba fell from your hands and the popcorn flew, much like how tsumiki started to fall back towards the couch. it took less than a millisecond for the two to realize what the did, and they knew they were fucked.
꒰꒰ sometimes you still have nightmares about it.
꒰꒰ there are times that toji would be coming home with a woman tailing behind him, and it's somehow always when megumi and tsumiki are out.
"tadamasu." toji greets as he walks in, talking his footwear off and leaving it in front of the door. you pop your head out from the living room into the hallway of the entrance as you greet him on his return, "hokairi."
"who's the bitch?" you notice a woman who had too much make up to show her curstyass in front of you, a click of your tongue echoes through the two meter distance between you and her as you cross your arms. "who's the slut?"
"youー!" her face twists in fury, heels about to click and clack each step to get to you but is instantly stopped by the sound of toji's deep voice. "get out." the girl looks baffled by his words, face contouring into a smile full on uneasiness. "but tojiー"
"i said get out." his voice is much more prominent and demanding, sending chills down her spine as she steps back in caution. you stand here watching as the woman still refused to leave your home, in seconds did toji grab hold of her wrist and threw her out of the house ( much to the woman's displeasure ). you grin from ear to ear, running out to see her limping her way back to her rented car right beside toji. you call her out, the glare she sends your way is priceless as you stand beside your father-in-law with all the glory in the world.
"by the way, i'm his amazing daughter-in-law! and we have decided that a clown lookin' ass like you doesn't deserve the right to fuck a fushiguro!" you wink.
"yeah, yeah. get back inside, y/n. megumi 'n tsumiki 'ill be back home, don't want them nagging that our y/n got into some cat fight again." you hear toji from inside the house, walking away from your figure. you pout your cheeks out, "it's not a cat fight, it's my bad bitch moves!"
"i'll lock you out."
"this is my house!"
꒰꒰ you stopped questioning megumi and toji's cooking skills because the last time you and tsumiki let them cook dinner, they didn't just burn the eggs they were making but also trashed half the kitchen.
꒰꒰ they made an oil fire that time, and no one knows how but toji was able to get the zenin clan to pay for repairs???
꒰꒰ and apparently for the past five months the zenin clan have been paying for repairs and they didn't even know toji was using their money, well until naobito found out and busted your front door on a weekend.
"toji!" you heard the current head of the zenin's clan voice boom through your house, you also watched the white front door fly through the hallway right before your eyes after you have just watered your little cactuses. in seconds you hear the lazy voice of your father-in-law, emerging from the kitchen with a confused tsumiki. "what do you want."
"how dare you use the zenin clan's money on your mistakes!" naobito starts striding towards toji in anger, your eyes glancing over at your now open door to see naoya waving to you. you lift your waterer up in acknowledgment of his existence before snapping at naobito.
"how about your mistake?" you watch naobito grip on to the collar of toji's shirt, the look of fury engraved on his old face as he glares your way. "what?" he says, dropping toji as he complains about
"you broke my fucking door, you wrinkly ass, dusty, decaying ancient artifact. we just installed that three days ago! the zenin clan better keep paying."
꒰꒰ that door never seems to get a break
꒰꒰ the real reason why you and megumi never moved out of the house is because when you two tried, tsumiki and toji invited themselves into your house and said they were living there.
꒰꒰ your father-in-law makes hundreds of millions of yen, you'd think he'd live on his own but instead he lives with his kids.
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The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 25
Original Title: 二哈和他的白猫师尊
Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi
This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.
Chapter Index
Chapter 25 - This Venerable One Hates Him So Much!
Chu Wanning couldn't force a "go away" to leave his throat. There was a long sombre pause before he changed his answer to: "Come in."
"Huh? Your door isn't locked?" They had been giving each other the silent treatment all day. But now, Mo Ran had the intention of reconciling with him, so he pushed open the door as he spoke like nothing had ever happened. Chu Wanning, on the other hand, sat expressionlessly at the table. He raised his eyes and glanced at him faintly.
In all fairness, Mo Ran was incredibly beautiful, and the whole room seemed to brighten as soon as he walked in the door. He was indeed very young. His skin was tight and seemed to exude a faint glow. The corners of his mouth were naturally slightly curled, and he seemed to be smiling even when he wasn't showing any emotion.
Chu Wanning didn't move his eyes off of Mo Ran. His slender eyelashes drooped and raised his hand to pinch out the incense burning on the table. He coldly asked:
"What are you doing here?"
"I came. . . to check your injury." Mo Ran awkwardly coughed. His eyes fell on Chu Wanning's shoulder and he froze. "You dressed it already?"
Chu Wanning faintly said: "Yes."
Mo Ran didn't know what to say: ". . ."
He really hated Chu Wanning, and he was furious that Chu Wanning had hurt Shi Mei. But, after calming down, Mo Ran wasn't completely without a conscience. Yeah, he hated him, but he didn't forget that Chu Wanning's shoulder was injured.
In the claustrophobic coffin, Chu Wanning had tightly guarded him in his arms, blocking the Master of Ceremonies Ghost's claws with his own body. His body had trembled in pain but he didn't let go. . .
To Chu Wanning, Mo Ran was disgusting.
But in addition to disgust, some very complicated emotions were always mixed in with it for some reason.
He was a rude person. He didn't read books when he was a child. Although he obtained some literary knowledge later, he still couldn't grasp many concepts easily when it came to many delicate things, especially when it came to feelings.
For example, when it came to Chu Wanning, Mo Ran rubbed his head and pondered. The back of his head was going to go bald, but he still couldn't figure out what this feeling was.
He can only identify certain kinds of feelings: love, hate, detest, happiness and unhappiness.
If all these emotions were mixed together, the wise and powerful cultivation emperor would get crossed-eyed and really dizzy.
He didn't understand. He couldn't understand. He didn't know. Help, my head hurts.
So Mo Ran didn't bother to dwell on it. Besides, he didn't have time to focus on any details other than Shi Mei.
He didn't hold good feelings for Chu Wanning in his heart, and while secretly plotting when he might have an opportunity in the future, he would make him pay with double the ferocity. On the other hand, he felt guilty. After an internal battle with himself, he finally knocked on Chu Wanning's door.
He didn't want to owe Chu Wanning.
But Chu Wanning was more stubborn and ruthless than he thought.
Mo Ran stared at the pile of blood-stained cotton gauze on the table, the bowl of hot water stained red with blood, and the sharp knife that was thrown haphazardly thrown aside. The tip of the knife was still coated with flesh and blood. His head was spinning.
How did he manage to heal himself?
Had he really cut off the festering flesh without so much as blinking? Just imagining it sent a chill down his spine. Was this guy even human?
He thought about when he had cleaned up Shi Mei's wound. Shi Mei had groaned softly in pain with tears in the corners of his eyes. Even though Mo Ran didn’t like Chu Wanning, he couldn’t help but silently give him credit——
Elder Yuheng was truly a domineering and righteous man, no arguments there.
After standing in place for a while, Mo Ran was the first to break the silence. He coughed, tapping his toes against the floor, and awkwardly said: "What happened in the Chen house. . . Shizun, I'm sorry."
Chu Wanning didn't say anything.
Mo Ran stole a glance at him: "I shouldn't have yelled at you."
Chu Wanning still ignored him. His face was still. As always, he had no reaction, but that didn't mean he wasn't aggravated and just not saying anything.
Mo Ran walked over. When he got closer, he saw the mess of bandages on Chu Wanning's shoulder. The cotton gauze was tied in several different ways. It looked like a group of crabs that were stuck together.
". . ."
Also, for a person who doesn't know how to wash his own clothes, can he really be trusted to treat himself?
Mo Ran sighed: "Shizun, don't be angry."
"Do I look angry?" Chu Wanning angrily responded.
Mo Ran: ". ."
After a long pause.
"Shizun, that's not how you wrap a bandage. . ."
He retorted unceremoniously: "You want you to teach me?"
Mo Ran: ". . ."
He raised his hand. He wanted to help Chu Wanning untie the gauze and wrap it again, but he was observant and felt that if he dared to touch him, he might end up with a lashing, so he hesitated.
He raised his hand then lowered it, and then raised it again, repeating the action several times. Chu Wanning was getting annoyed. He squinted at him: "What are you doing? Do you still want to fight me?"
". . ." He really wanted to fight him, but now wasn't a good time.
Mo Ran smiled sheepishly. Throwing caution to the wind, he suddenly reached over and grabbed his shoulders, dimples appearing at the corners of his mouth: "Shizun, let me help you re-bandage it."
Chu Wanning wanted to refuse, but Mo Ran's warm fingers had already wrapped around the bandage. His mouth felt dry and stiff. He couldn't speak, so his lips moved slightly but nothing came out.
The gauze was peeled off layer by layer. Blood had soaked through it, and when it was all torn back, the five holes were piercingly obvious and hideous.
Just looking at it, he shuddered. It was many times more serious than the would on Shi Mei's face.
Mo Ran didn't know what he was looking at. He was stunned, then suddenly asked softly: "Does it hurt?"
Chu Wanning lowered his long and slender eyelashes, and simply said lightly: "It's fine."
Mo Ran said: "I'll be gentle."
Chu Wanning didn't know what he was thinking, and suddenly his ear flushed a little red. As a result, he got angry with himself again. He thought he was going crazy. All day he had been thinking up such nonsensical thoughts. His expression grew stiff. His temper worsened, and he said dryly, "It's up to you."
The candlelight in the guest room flickered. In the dim light, he could see that he had completely missed some spots with the ointment. Mo Ran was honestly speechless. He thought it was a miracle that Chu Wanning was still alive and healthy today.
"Shizun."
"Hmm?"
"What happened to you today at the Chen house? Why did you suddenly lash out and hit someone?" He asked while applying some ointment.
Chu Wanning was silent for a while, then replied: "I was angry."
Mo Ran asked: "Why were you so angry?"
Chu Wanning didn't want to trouble his disciple, so he told Mo Ran a brief and concise version of Luo Xianxian's story. After Mo Ran listened to the story, he shook his head: "You're stupid. In this kind of situation, even if you're angry, you shouldn't confront them about it to their face. If it were me, I would've made a mess of things and lie to them that the ghost had been removed, and then pat their asses and leave, letting them fend for themselves. Just look at you making a scene over such a rotten man. You knew you probably wouldn't get through to him, and then you missed and wounded Shi Mei--"
Halfway through the sentence, Mo Ran abruptly stopped. He stared silently at Chu Wanning.
He tied the bandage carefully. He was a little forgetful and he was talking to Chu Wanning like he had when he was 32, pretty cheekily.
Chu Wanning obviously noticed. He squinted his eyes, looking coldly at Mo Ran. That look resembled a very familiar phrase - "See if I don't whip you to death."
"Uh. . ."
Before his brain had thought up a response, Chu Wanning has already begun speaking.
He said indifferently: "Is Shi Mingjing the one I wanted to fight?"
When Shi Mei was mentioned, Mo Ran's originally calm mental state started to shift and his tone hardened: "Isn't he the person you hit?"
Chu Wanning did regret hitting him, but he couldn't admit it. At this moment, his face was sullen and he didn't say a word.
Chu Wanning was the stubborn type. Mo Ran was the lovesick type. Their eyes meet and sparks crackled. The atmosphere that had just eased a little became hopelessly stagnant again.
Mo Ran said: "Shi Mei didn't do anything wrong. Shizun, you hurt him by accident. Don't you want to say that you're sorry?"
Chu Wanning narrowed his eyes dangerously: "Are you questioning me?"
". . . I'm not." Mo Ran paused. "I just feel bad that he got hurt but never got an apology from Shizun."
Under the candlelight, the handsome and youthful teenager finished wrapping the last bandage on Chu Wanning's wound and carefully tied a knot. It may have looked like the scene was quite warm, but the mood between them had changed. Especially Chu Wanning; his chest felt like a jar of vinegar had exploded in it. The feeling of sourness was overwhelming and he felt angry and annoyed.
Apologize?
How do you even spell that word? Who'll teach him how to write?
Mo Ran said: "It'll take half a year for the wound on his face to heal. When I gave him some medicine just now, he still told me not to blame you. Shizun, he doesn't blame you, but do you think that justifies what you did?"
This sentence was tantamount to adding fuel to the fire.
Chu Wanning had been enduring it but he finally couldn't hold it back. He suppressed his voice and muttered: "Get out."
Mo Ran: ". . ."
Chu Wanning exploded: "Get out!"
Mo Ran was forced out and the door slammed shut in his face, almost clamping his fingers. Mo Ran was furious. Just look at this! What kind of person was this? All this just to avoid apologizing? Such cherished and treasured pride. What was so difficult about saying sorry? All he needs to do is move his mouth. This Venerable One was the Emperor TaXian, yet this Venerable One didn't hesitate to apologize to others. As for the Beidou Immortal, half of his words were inexplicable, as if he had swallowed them. What a ridiculous temper!
No wonder no one cared about such a handsome face!
It was a waste of time. He deserved to stay single for the rest of his life!
Since Chu Wanning would rather ignore him and give him a closed-door to talk to, then of course the high and mighty cultivation emperor, the emperor of the human world, wouldn't lose any sleep over this. Although he was tenacious and as hard to get rid of as a piece of sticky candy, he stuck to Shi Mei, not his shizun.
He immediately left without a care and went to join Shi Mei.
"Why are you back so soon?" Shi Mei was in the midst of lying down to rest when he saw Mo Yan come in. He froze and sat up, long strands of ink hair hanging all over the place. "How's Shizun?"
"Very good. His temper is as strong as usual."
Shi Mei: ". . ."
Mo Ran brought over a chair and sat on it backwards. His hand rested on the back of the Taishi chair, a lazy smile hanging on the corner of his mouth. His gaze flicked across the appearance of Shi Mei's soft and long hair.
Shi Mei said: "Why don't I go and see him. . ."
"Don't think too much about it." Mo Ran rolled his eyes. "He's terrible."
"Did you make him angry again?"
"He needs someone to provoke him? He makes himself angry. I think he's made of wood considering he's so flammable."
Shi Mei shook his head, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.
Mo Ran said: "Get some rest. I'll borrow the kitchen downstairs and make you some food."
Shi Mei said: "What's the fuss? You haven't closed your eyes all night. Aren't you going to sleep?"
"Haha, I am in good spirits." Mo Ran laughed. "But if you can't bear me leaving, I can stay with you for a while until you fall asleep."
Shi Mei hurriedly waved his hand and said warmly: "No, if you have to look at me like this, I won't be able to sleep either. You should go to bed early. Don't exhaust yourself."
The curvature in the corners of his mouth stiffened slightly. Mo Ran was a little sad.
Although Shi Mei treated him kindly, he always maintained such a distant attitude. It was the attitude of someone who was obviously close at hand, but as the moon in the mirror and the flower in the water, he could be seen but not obtained.
". . . Okay." In the end, he just tried to cheer up and laughed. Mo Ran's smile was very bright. When he wasn't completely evil, he was actually pretty silly and cute. "Call me if you need anything. I'm either right next door or downstairs."
"Okay."
Mo Ran raised his hand, wanting to touch his hair, but he held back. He spun his hand around in the air and scratched his head.
"I'm leaving."
Outside of the room, Mo Ran couldn't help but sneeze.
He sniffed.
Because Caidie Town produced incense, the price of all the different kinds of incense wasn't as expensive, so the inn wasn't stingy with it. Each room was lit with a long branch of special incense; one can ward off evil spirits, another can dehumidify, the last one can give the room a nice fragrance.
But as soon as Mo Ran smelled the incense, it made him uncomfortable. But if Shi Mei liked it, he would endure it.
Coming downstairs, Mo Yan wandered over to the innkeeper, slipped him a silver ingot. He squinted his eyes and said with a smile: "Innkeeper, do me a favour."
The innkeeper looked at the silver ingot and smiled more politely at Mo Ran: "What is this immortal gentleman's request?"
Mo Ran said: "I see that not many people come here to eat breakfast. I wanted to discuss that with you. I want to use the kitchen this morning. Please let the other guests know."
How much money would breakfast make him? It would probably be impossible to earn a silver ingot in half a month. The innkeeper immediately smiled and agreed, leading the swaggering Mo Weiyu into the kitchen of the inn.
"You want to cook by yourself? It's better to let the chef in our inn do it. He's very talented."
"No need." Mo Ran smiled. "Have you heard of the Jade Wine Building in Xiangtan?"
"Ah. . . Is that the famous music performance building that started getting popular more than a year ago?"
Mo Ran: "Yeah."
The boss took a peek outside and confirmed that his wife was busy and couldn't overhear. He snickered and said, "Who hasn't heard of it? It's the most famous restaurant on the Xiangjiang River. It used to have a lead musician there. It’s a pity it's so far away, otherwise, I'd want to listen to her play a song."
Mo Ran laughed: "Thank you for the compliment. I'll pass it onto her."
"Pass it on?" The innkeeper was puzzled. "Do you know her?"
Mo Ran said: "More than just know."
"Wow. . .You don't say? But you cultivators can be. . . well. . ."
Mo Ran interrupted him with a smile: "Other than the lead musician, do you know anything else?"
"Hmm. . . Their food was said to be a must."
The corners of Mo Ran's mouth curled higher and he smiled brighter. He skillfully picked up the kitchen knife and said: "Before I took up cultivation, I was a cook in the kitchen in the Jade Wine Building for several years. You said that your chefs make delicious dishes. Whose is better, theirs or mine?"
The innkeeper was even more shocked, and stammered out: "You're really. . . really. . ."
He couldn't get the words out.
Mo Ran gazed at him with narrowed eyes. His smile was barely holding back his smug and cocky demeanour: "You can leave. This chef is going to cook something."
The innkeeper didn’t know that he was talking to the former Lord of Darkness, and he put on a cheeky expression: “I've heard a lot about Jade Wine House's exquisite desserts. I wonder if you would let me have a bite once they're ready?"
He didn't think this was too high of a request. Mo Ran would definitely agree.
Who would've expected Mo Ran to squint his eyes and say with a smirk: "You want some?"
"Hmph!"
"Really?" Mo Ran snorted. He was bursting with pride. He scoffed: "You think I would cook for just anyone? This Venerable One is doing this just for Shi Mei. If not for him, I wouldn't even be lighting a fire to cook. . ."
He flipped a radish over and started to slice it, muttering.
". . ." The innkeeper slumped defeatedly. He rubbed his hands and stood there awkwardly. He halfheartedly chuckled at him then left.
He was also muttering to himself.
This Venerable One? For someone this young, his spiritual core hasn't even fully formed yet. He thought about his chatter and how he was probably referring to his elder sister disciple, but there was no female cultivator among the group who walked with him today.
The innkeeper rolled his eyes.
This person must be deluded.
Mo Ran stayed busy in the kitchen for several hours. It was almost noon when the work was finished, and he rushed upstairs to wake Shi Mei up.
When passing by Chu Wanning's room, he slowly came to a stop.
Should he ask if he wanted to eat together. . .
Thinking of Chu Wanning's harsh temperament, Mo Ran's heart skipped a beat, his face full of contempt.
No, no, no. He only had a few portions. There wasn't enough to share with him!
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Solace (part 2)
SOLACE (part 2)
A part two but kinda works as a stand alone!!
A/n y’all seemed to like the first one so I thought I’d make a part two :)) This was NOT meant to be a series but now I kind of have an idea to make this a mini series where each part is kind of a blurb that connects to the last part and I think I might do that.
Pairing: General Kirigan/the Darkling x Heartrender! reader
Summary: The day after you go visit General Kirigan at night is also the day he decides he can become more honest about his intentions for you. The softness of it all is starting to get to you but you have a good friend to remind you that it’s okay to feel happy.
--
The sunlight peers into the room shyly. It stirs me awake into a soft bliss. Warmth. When was the last time I woke up feeling so warm? So rested? I squint my eyes open, still calm. But when my vision finally adjusts, I feel like ice all over again. This is not where I’m supposed to be.
Memories of sneaking here in the darkness of night, speaking to Kirigan so freely, and then letting him convince me to stay. He had seemed to want me here then, in the night when loneliness finds easy prey in even the most hardened individuals...but now, in the morning sunlight--he’ll regret it. We made it clear I’d stay only that night--and that night is now gone. Maybe he expects me to be gone before he rises. I know that’s what most men expect after taking company for the night, but we didn’t exactly partake in activities like that. I think what we did is worse.
Relations like that are about desire, falling asleep with someone else borders on intimacy. One misstep and who knows what I’ll invoke? I shift my gaze upwards, careful to not move in hopes of not disturbing the arms he’s draped across my back, holding me to him. Kirigan seems different in sleep, softer. His features are still sharp, but there’s something gentle about seeing him vulnerable. Something about the way his lashes brush against his cheeks and his lips stay parted just slightly. This moment can never repeat itself. It can never happen again, so I’ll have to hold onto this.
Cautiously, I prepare to slip out of his grasp even though it feels like its the only thing tethering me to this world. I touch his first hand, moving it off of me slowly. I wait a second, and when he remains unstirring I move his other hand.
“What are you so eager for, little wolf?” The raspy, tired quality of his voice leaves my stomach fluttering. His words jar me so much I find myself frozen.
He reaches lazily, placing an arm on the center of my back, trying to ease me back into place. “It’s morning now.”
His thumb brushes up and down my back in a way meant to lull me. “I’m the Shadow Summoner, the night lasts as long as I want it to.” He lets out an easy breath, “And I’m prolonging it.”
Ignoring the warmth the implications of his words bring, I decide to focus on how dramatic he is. “Dramatic even so early in the morning.”
Kirigan’s eyes flutter open, the slightest smile playing at the edge of his lips. “Watch yourself, little wolf.” There is no malice in his voice, only something hinting at teasing too humane for me to trust.
I roll my eyes, letting his fingers brush wherever he wants them to--up and down my back, down the arms I am too aware of. The desire to touch him easily, casually, just to prove that I have that privilege. I stretch, pushing down thoughts of rejection as I place a hand on his chest. He pauses, one hand frozen in place on my back. Slowly, he moves his hand away from me. I tense, preparing to retract my hand. He catches my hand before I can pull it away, moving it towards him easily until my hand is against his cheek.
“Y/n.” He’s called me my name so few times, and the restraint in his voice leaves me unnerved. “Will you wear a black kefta today?”
His color. Perhaps he meant the promise of solace more literally than I thought. Anyone who sees me will think I’ve been claimed by him in one way or another. Perhaps I have been. The thought stirs my chest, moving me in a way I can’t distinguish as a positive or negative. I feel myself being ensnared in a lovely trap, but when I look at him, at the honesty burning in his gaze, it’s almost as if he’s asking me to claim him.
“Yes.” Again the word leaves me as if willed by some outside force.
Kirigan’s intensity dwindles slightly. His hand drops from over mine, but I keep mine on his cheek, running my thumb across his skin. “You’ll do good for me today, little wolf.” His words leave no room for argument. I think speaking like that is a talent of his. “You always do so good for me.” The admiration in his words melt something in me, my entire body warmed in a way I don’t understand. Kirigan brushes his knuckles across my cheek again.
I’ve been silent for too long, each second I waste inflating his ego. “You’re suspiciously nice in the mornings.”
“You’re only skeptical because you never let anyone take care of you.” His words are chiding and the implication of them leaves my face warm. “So much promise,” he muses, hand trailing down my jawline, “So much power,” his fingers skim down my neck and across my collarbone. “I wonder what someone like you could do with an amplifier.”
An amplifier. I’ve seen them in use, and knowing what I could do with something that strengthens my already abrasive abilities. I could be a monster so easily. Kirigan must see some of my concern because he’s quick to sit up a little more in order to close the distance between us the way he did last night. He brushes his lips against my collarbone in a way that leaves me distracted by wanting. A wanting for what, I’m not sure. I ease into his touch.
“Today everyone will know what you are.” His voice is gentle against the base of my neck. “And they will know that we are meant to be equals.”
I feel the need to panic rise in my chest, but it’s dulled by the warmth his lips leave against my skin. “I’m only a Heartrender, I can’t be your equal.”
“You are,” he whispers, so assured, “With a heart as good as yours you may even be more.”
His words are too weighted for so early in the morning, but there is always tension with him. Shadows are meant to be weightless but I think they’re like anything else--carry enough of them and eventually you’ll break.
When he straightens I move to follow him, pressing a quick kiss against his cheek. “You’re good, too.” There has to be goodness in him. No one capable of such warmth and gentleness can be made up entirely of wicked things.
“You claimed I was a villain.”
Did my words really impact him so? “My opinion isn’t law.”
Something strange flickers across his features. “It might as well be.”
I swallow back a bundle of nerves. “Sometimes I’m wrong.”
The words crack something vulnerable in me. A part of me thinks he can feel the part of me that’s breaking in hopes of offering him something.
“You really are my solace.” I don’t know how to reciprocate such a gilded sentiment.
I rest my head against his shoulder, taking his hand. “I’m glad to be that.”
He squeezes my hand. “We should go get ready before people start to notice our absence.”
I consider reminding him what he told me last night, but he has a point. There’s a difference between a rumor of me pacing in the night and both of us showing up late at the same time. Still though, a part of me is already grieving this version of Kirigan. Outside of this room his coldness will return. ‘Just for tonight’. We had agreed on that. But when the night ended, and the morning sun colored us both sane again, he had asked me to wear his color.
“I’ll go get dressed,” I stay still.
Kirigan runs his thumb over my knuckles. “I’ll have a black kefta sent to you.”
That has to mean something. Wait--do I want it to mean something? I pull my hand away from his stiffly, standing because I know the longer I’ll wait the worse it will be. “I’ll see you during training.”
“My door will be unlocked after.”
At that, my chest swells. He’s offered me an opening. “Good to know.”
His eyes narrow slightly at my coyness. “Find me after?”
“Only because you’re nicer in here.” He wants me to come back.
--
The black kefta does not feel like my own. The color is too alluring, too dark and enthralling. It is not meant for someone like me. It feels borrowed, but I’m not entirely uncomfortable. It’s almost like he’s still with me, keeping me from being alone.
When I walk down the halls, I feel the stares of the others sticking to me like tar. They barely tolerated me before--the grisha plucked from the slums after a fateful night in which Kirigan saw the extent of my abilities.
“New clothes, l/n?”
Julian’s words coax an easy smile from me. Always so open, so accepting. Even now he doesn’t pester me about the black kefta. “I barely noticed.”
My lack of real response earns me a playful glare. “Is that the only explanation I get? Moving up the ranks without me?”
I roll my eyes. He’s joking, but he’s drawing more eyes to me. “I’m not leaving you, Julian.” He’s been too good a friend for me to leave. “Nothing’s changed except the color of my clothing.”
“Good.” Julian’s lips twitch upwards, offering me the kind of smile that’s earned him many trysts with many women. “I’d miss you too much.”
And while I doubt that my disappearance would do anything else than up his popularity, I appreciate the sentiment. “Oh I’m sure you’d find a way to find company.”
He half laughs, “What are you implying of my virtue?”
Laughing, I roll my eyes as we continue to walk down the halls. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.”
Julian reaches for me, touching my forearm. I stall. “In all seriousness, y/n, I really appreciate your friendship.”
Aw. Never did I think I’d have so many people to appreciate here. I think of Kirigan, of the vulnerability in his words and the new facet of him I saw last night that I somehow always knew he had in him. He may be a villain, or just one in the making, but he is more than a dark shadow. I find myself releasing I appreciate Kirigan too. It’s different than the way I care about Julian, more fragile, but it’s still a relationship I’ve created here.
I look down at the space where his hand touches my forearm. “I really appreciate your friendship, too. You’ve gotten me through a lot.”
“You need to give yourself some credit.” He releases my arm, turning to continue to walk forward.
I turn as well, “You should too.”
I look forward, and there, in the near distance is Kirigan. He’s staring at me, eyes lacking everything he had earlier. I offer him a small smile. He does not return it, his drops slowly to the ground. Weird. I guess he’s just turning on his indifference for a day of training. He asked me to wear his color, he asked me to come back.
Does he regret it? Maybe it was a premature request for me to wear his color so publicly. His gaze finds mine again, and with a tilt of his head he gestures for me to follow him.
--
General taglist: @theincredibledeadlyviper
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Demon Shit [Part 4]
~4000 words
| NSFW warnings: threesome, overstimulation, dabi being a bit of a dick, tomura being creepy and also a bit of a dick, really intense smut
Tomura lead you forward, chuckling when you stumbled in the dark. He pushed you out into the alley as soon as the door was open, making you trip and fall onto your hands and knees with a yelp.
The door slammed and Tomura crouched behind you, pulling up your dress and leaning in to plant a few kitten licks to your still-wet slit. You squeaked, lurching forward before his hands gripped your hips harshly, pulling you back against his face. He groaned, lapping at you and kissing your twitching cunt for a little longer before leaning back, spreading you carefully with his clawed fingers and taking in the sight. You whimpered, and he gave a final light kiss to your clit before putting your dress back down and helping you up.
“Don’t cry,” he huffed, wiping your slick off his face and pressing his lips to your cheek. Keeping in mind what Dabi had said about affection, he wrapped his arms around you, letting you lean into him.
“I’m not,” you whined into his chest, snuggling close with a little shiver as the breeze picked up. He shrugged out of his coat and affixed it around your shoulders, snatching up your hand and dragging you along like an annoyed older brother.
“Food, yeah?” He peered down at you over his shoulder. You nodded, gripping his hand as you struggled to keep up with him. Was it a demon thing or did yours just walk fast?
“Can you slow down a little?” you stumbled, gripping his sleeve with the hand he didn’t have in a death grip, “And what are we eating?” His pace slowed and he gave your hand an apologetic squeeze.
“Uh,” he scratched at his neck, occasionally creating a wound that sealed up as fast as it opened, “What do you want, er, little sacrifice?” Your face warmed a bit at Dabi’s nickname coming from him. You hummed in thought as he guided you out into the main street, significantly less crowded as the sun set.
He got you what you asked for from a food stall and you sat together on a bench nearby, Tomura intently watching you eat.
“Wanna taste?” You offered, holding your food out to him. He took a little bite and grimaced, spitting it onto the pavement as several people sneered at him as they walked by. You giggled, leaning against him as you munched.
“Some human food tastes okay but the stuff with salt is disgusting,” he watched you take another bite.
“Is that a demon thing?” You asked. He nodded, swiping his finger across your lips where some of it had smeared and pressing in, depositing it into your mouth as you obediently suckled on his finger. He licked your spit off the digit and slung his arm over your shoulders.
“I like you,” he murmured, softly kissing the top of your head. You snuggled into him, letting him take the empty food container and throw it into a nearby trashcan.
“I like you too. And Dabi,” your face heated up as you admitted it aloud. He grinned down at you, pinching your cheek,
“Keigo is gonna love you. Might be a little rough, though, cause he’s still mad at Dabs. It’ll still be fun, though.” You perked up, leaning to look at Tomura more directly,
“What did he do?” You asked, scooting a little closer. He squished your cheeks absentmindedly as he spoke,
“They got into an argument over a contract they both wanted and Dabi let him have it instead of warning him when he found out it was a shit deal. He ended up having to hang out in the same place and couldn’t leave for several centuries,” his hands started wandering, toying with the clasp of his coat draped over yours.
“That doesn’t sound that bad,” you said softly, shifting to sit in his lap. He scoffed,
“It doesn’t until you realize he couldn’t go into his pocket dimension and visit his sacrifice in all that time. He didn’t get to tell anyone it was there either so it died. He’s probably still pretty pissed off,” he nuzzled into your hair, sniffing briefly before pushing you off, gently this time so you didn’t fall.
Noticing your slightly upset expression, he quickly added, “You’re gonna have three of us, though. You’ll be fine,” you shuffled a little closer to him.
He stood, taking out his phone and messing around on it for a moment. He took your hand after, pulling you down the darkened, nearly deserted streets.
“Are we going back to Dabi?” You asked, squeezing his hand. He nodded with a quiet grunt, tugging you along for several blocks until you stopped outside ...a lingerie store?
“Why is he here?” Your face crinkled in confusion as the demon dragged you inside, ignoring the greeting from the worker and heading for the back of the store. Dabi was there, comparing a couple of bustiers. You felt your face heat up as he immediately slipped Tomura’s and then your coats off your shoulders, holding the lacy white material up to your chest.
“Which of these do you think will make Kei hate me less?” He muttered to Tomura, shoving the coats in his hands.
“I think you’re going to have to worry about me hating you if you don’t let me shove my cock inside your sacrifice in the next hour,” He growled, jabbing at Dabi’s side with one of his claws. He side-eyed you with his wide grin as your breath hitched, shyly looking away.
“Pocket dimension is open in the back of the store, it’s the permanent one so you can leave your stuff wherever. Doll, did those panties fit okay?” he said in a monotonous string, still holding up various lacy numbers to your chest. You were starting to think he had an obsession with putting you in white.
“U-uh they fit fine,” you said with a slight grimace, shuffling your feet awkwardly as Tomura dug through his pocket.
“Get more like this,” he said, holding them up. You felt a massive rush of blood to your face, desperately grabbing for them and frantically whispering his name. Dabi snatched them up, glanced at the size, and shoved them back in Tomura’s pocket,
“Don’t do that out here, dumbass,” Dabi chided him, shuffling through another rack of clothes with an exasperated sigh, “I’m only gonna be another minute just get out of here,” he sighed, tilting your chin up for a brief kiss and nudging you back to Tomura.
“Whatever, humans are so prudish,” he snorted, pulling you toward the back exit of the store. He stuck your coat around your shoulders and guided you through the door, cold hitting you immediately as you stepped into the pocket dimension.
Snow crunched under your feet as you entered, wind and snow chilling you to the bone instantly and causing you to immediately attach yourself to Tomura. He wrapped his coat around you tightly and scooped you up, trudging through the snow towards a huge house.
“I hate the ones with outside space, why can’t it just open directly inside,” He grumbled, stroking your arm fervently as you shuddered against him, “and why the fuck do they make ones with blizzards like this?” He got up to the door and kicked it open, carrying you in and setting you down as he closed it and shook snow off himself.
The warm air was nice, but you were soaked down to your skin quickly as the snow melted, leaving you dripping cold water onto the wooden floors. The house was big, lavishly decorated, and seemed to have lots of rooms and even more up the large staircase. You caught your demon companion shaking himself off like a dog out of the corner of your eye.
“He must like you a lot, this dimension looks expensive,” Tomura pulled off both your wet coats, sliding his inhumanly long tongue across his rough lips as he took in the sight of your wet dress clinging to your skin, “Remind me to thank Staples for these,” he slid a finger under one of your stockings and let it snap back against your skin. You shuddered, the wet fabric clinging to your skin and making you increasingly uncomfortable.
“Oh yeah, he treats you like a dolly,” he scoffed, leaning down and taking your boots off for you, “sweet and dumb, right? He got so damn lucky,” he came back up and planted a soft kiss to your lips, brushing against them as he spoke, “Or should it be ‘we’ got lucky?” You brought your arms to your chest nervously.
His teeth latched onto the neckline of your dress, shredding it off you in one motion and letting it drop to the floor. Red eyes scanned over your body, now only covered by a bralette, stockings, and your own hands clasped over your pussy. You sniffled, shivering and shuffling a little closer,
“Can we get warm?” You asked, giving him what was certainly a pathetic expression. You probably looked like a wet little rat, shaking and giving him doe eyes as he ran his hands up and down your sides.
“I’ll warm you up,” he grinned widely, pulling your bralette over your head and discarding it on the floor. You winced slightly, pulling him close for warmth and being slightly disappointed he wasn’t as warm as Dabi. The lack of staples scratching against your skin was admittedly nice, though.
He ducked down, sweeping up your legs and carrying you as he tried several doors before finding a bedroom he carried you into. You were deposited on the bed and watched as he peeled his wet clothes off, immediately pushing you further onto the bed and crawling over you until he hovered above your trembling form.
“I’m going to devour you,” he rasped, tongue trailing along your lips before slipping inside and thrusting down your throat. You gagged, struggling to keep your mouth open for him as he fucked your mouth with the wet appendage. He moaned, closing the gap between your lips and pulling his tongue back to kiss you as normally as a half-feral demon could.
He broke off, giving your tongue another flick with his before withdrawing and dragging it along your skin. Rough lips latched onto your neck, suckling over the massive bite wound Dabi had given you. Your head fell back and you gasped as he licked along your breasts, swirling his tongue around your nipples until they pebbled and he popped one into his mouth. Sharp teeth grazed the sensitive skin, making you arch your back.
He licked and bit roughly along your chest, sharp teeth trailing lower until he placed light kisses directly to your cunt. You whined as he forced your legs apart, drinking in the sight of you clenching around nothing with slick coating your thighs.
“Fuck,” he breathed, enclosing your entire pussy in his mouth with and winding his tongue inside without hesitation. Your hips bucked involuntarily as you cried out, gripping his hair. His tongue was so long it was coiled deep inside you, lapping directly at your cervix and writhing against several sweet spots. Rough lips stimulated your still-sore clit too harshly, making you tremble and groan as the painful pleasure rocked through you.
“I,” you gasped, barely able to speak as you squirmed, held in place by strong arms and nails digging into your hips to pin them, “’M’gonna c-” you moaned loudly, head pressed back hard and eyes rolled up. You gasped for breath, twitching as he continued through your orgasm, making you squeal and tug his hair.
“No more,” you cried, trying to crawl away. His grip was like iron, and you couldn’t do anything to escape his torturous ministrations. Turning your head, tears spilled from your eyes and you saw Dabi in the doorway, watching his friend torture you with a faint smirk on his face. Being watched had you flushed and cumming again on Tomura’s tongue, sobbing as he kept going despite your pleas.
“Dabi,” you cried, reaching for him, hoping he’d tell Tomura to calm down, but all he did was saunter forward and hold your hand, pressing his lips softly to your knuckles as his friend coaxed another painful orgasm out of you. Your other hand tangled in Tomura’s hair, pulling hard and eliciting a deep groan from him. He mercifully parted from your slit, crawling back up and giving you a deep kiss, letting his drool and your slick transfer into your mouth.
“That’s nice; choke me too,” the pale-haired demon ordered, pulling your hand out of Dabi’s and placing both around his neck. You tried to squeeze but your limbs felt like jelly. He gave you an annoyed tut, flipping to make you straddle him.
“Do it right or I’ll choke you instead,” he gripped your wrists and you pressed harder, earning a soft moan from him. His hips bucked up, lifting you and making his fat, engorged cock tap against your back, smearing some of his pre on your skin.
You felt the bed dip and turned to see Dabi situating himself behind you, lying with his face between Tomura’s legs. He took his cock in his hand, pumping it and licking at his balls, earning another involuntary buck of Tomura’s hips. You watched him drag his forked tongue up the back of his cock, swirling the wet muscle around the head and even briefly dip into his slit a little.
He took the head into his mouth and teased him for another moment before unhinging his jaw slightly and taking the whole thing down his throat. Tomura groaned loudly, gripping your thighs and digging his claws in until you bled, whimpering and slumping forward to rest your chest on his. His hands wandered frantically, squeezing various places on your soft form as he tried to ground himself, lifting you as he bucked up into Dabi’s mouth.
You crawled up slightly, wanting to swallow the sounds he was making and sealing your lips over his to do so. He moaned into your mouth, red eyes rolling back in his head when you licked up the drool spilling down his jaw. He clawed at your back, thighs, and arms, dug his claws into your ass and pulled your hips against him, forcing you to essentially ride his stomach. The friction to your clit had you squirming against him as your orgasm built back up.
Dabi released him with a wet pop, reaching up to spin you around and pull you to his face by your throat. He kissed you, sharing the taste of Tomura’s precum before guiding you to his saliva-coated cock. Tomura’s hands smoothed over your ass, spreading your cheeks and giving him a perfect view of your twitchy, drooly little cunt. He teased your clit with his tongue, flicking it around all over and smearing your juices from there up to your puckered back entrance, making you yelp. If he hadn’t had you locked in place you’d have tried to squirm forward, away from his intrusive tongue as he let you feel just how far it could reach.
“Doll, focus. Use your mouth,” Dabi recaptured your attention, kissing you wetly from the other side of Tomura’s cock, flicking his tongue against your lips as you both lapped at him. You groaned as he thrusted his tongue deep into your ass, fingers carefully pinching at your clit using his knuckles so he wouldn’t scratch you there.
Dabi left you to tend to his cock, lifting Tomura’s legs and spreading them, kissing and suckling at his balls for a moment before diving lower, giving him the same treatment he was giving you. You took initiative, cupping and massaging his balls with one hand and using the other to guide the head of his cock to your mouth to lap at his slit, alternating between licking up the copious amounts of pre he was leaking and kissing his shaft all over. Your other hand stroked over his thigh, threading your fingers through Dabi’s and squeezing as Tomura’s rough treatment of your clit had you cumming, mindlessly humping against his chest as he watched you clench around nothing, withdrawing his tongue from inside you. He gave your ass a smack, squeezing harshly as he bucked his hips.
“Fuck,” he groaned, one hand gripping your hair and pushing you onto his cock, “I know you can’t fit it in your mouth just take the tip, ah,” he moaned, “swallow it,” he grunted when you obeyed. You took his tip into your mouth, stretching your jaw wide to accommodate him and suckling. Dabi’s hand flashed in your peripheral as he slapped his balls, Tomura immediately shrieking and releasing into your mouth. You tried to swallow it all, gulping down the thick, foul-tasting liquid as it flooded your mouth, spilling out the sides and dribbling down his cock where Dabi licked it up.
You kept sucking even after he’d stopped spurting the white fluid down your throat, making him grip your hair and pull you off to keep you from overstimulating him. He brought your back to his chest, having you lie on top of him as his cock deflated slightly between your legs briefly before perking up again. He sighed deeply, pressing a kiss to your temple and wrapping his arms around you, kneading at your breasts.
“We’re cool now,” he muttered, perking up and making you sit up with him, shifting you to sit in his lap, “Can I use her ass?” he asked Dabi, gripping your hips and dragging your cunt along his length to lubricate it, the friction making you gasp. Dabi rolled his eyes,
“You know she can’t,” he ruffled your hair, pressing several soft kisses to your cheek and jaw, “I’ll have to stretch it out first.” You gawked at him with wide eyes as he reached down, swiping his thumb over the spit coated hole. Tomura continued making you hump his cock, watching how sweetly you gazed at his friend despite how scared your expression was. A cruel smirk stretched across his face, catching Dabi’s attention and making him quirk a brow at him.
“Why don’t you start now? Ream her little ass while I take her pussy?” His hips rolled up for emphasis, making you moan as you came, releasing your hips and watching you hump him on your own as you rode out your orgasm, too blissed out to protest his proposal, not that anyone would listen to you anyway. You slumped back against him, resting your head on his shoulder as you panted, coming down from yet another high. He trailed a finger down your cheek, kissing you softly and positioning you to face him on your knees, straddling him and hovering just above his twitching length.
Dabi positioned himself behind you, gathering your slick on his tip and gently pulling you back, impaling you on himself. You moaned, dropping your head to rest on Tomura’s shoulder and nibbling at his rough skin a little. He stroked your hair as the other demon gave you a few shallow thrusts before leaving you empty and lining up at your smaller hole.
“Ever had your ass fucked, little sacrifice?” You panted, knowing you wouldn’t be able to stop him and opting to relax and take it. Maybe if you were good he’d go a little easy on you. You peered at him over your shoulder, lip trembling as you shook your head no. He smirked, slapping your ass lightly and rubbing it, pulling your cheeks apart as he started to press in.
Tomura gripped your face, forcing you to look him in the eye so he could watch your expression as Dabi took your ass for the first time. His mouth opened when yours did, tongue flicking into your mouth and along your face as your eyes rolled back into your head. It was so deep, too big, too hot, too much and your breath caught in your throat, practically choking on the feeling of him so far into your guts. You surprised both of them when you pushed back, eagerly accepting him as your neglected cunt twitched and drooled, slick dripping down Tomura’s cock underneath you.
Dabi grunted, “Good fucking girl.” His hips stilled, watching you pant and get used to the stretch. He pulled out about halfway, then buried himself to the hilt again, gripping your thighs and picking you up so you were leaned back against his chest with him holding your legs up nice and wide. Tomura licked his lips, leaning forward with no hesitation and kissing at your cunt, tongue slipping along your folds and down to where Dabi was pressed tightly inside.
They both stood, allowing Tomura easier access to line himself up, kissing along your chest as it heaved with panicked little breaths. He nudged himself in gently at first, slipping along your walls and fitting several inches inside. Your back arched, babbling pleas and a string of unintelligible gibberish. Dabi made sure he was ready and let you fall forward, gravity forcing you to take both of them entirely. A scream ripped from your throat, arms limply trying to clutch Tomura’s shoulders as they started moving without mercy, quickly settling into a rhythm that made you lose consciousness for a few seconds, stars dancing across your vision as white hot pleasure coursed through your veins.
You choked and sobbed, both holes spasming as pain and pleasure became indistinguishable and you could swear you felt little cracks forming in your psyche. Your whole body both felt numb and pulsed with too much stimulation as you were filled over and over, both of them cumming several times inside you without stopping their assault. Eventually you were reduced to groaning, exhausted to the point of being unable to move as they pawed at you, occasionally grunting praises that seemed to float by you. You weren’t sure how many times you came, abused little clit smacked and pinched over and over again until it hurt to cum.
You’re not sure when they moved or how long you’d been there, but you found yourself flopped back in bed as they both filled you for the last time, locking lips over your spent body. A whimper breezed past your lips as they slipped you under the blankets, kissing various parts along your skin.
“I think we might have overwhelmed her,” Dabi frowned, running his fingers down your cheek. Tomura shrugged, claiming his preferred side of the bed and snuggling in close to you,
“She’s fine she came like a million times,” he affectionately nuzzled his cheek against the top of your head, slinging an arm across your unconscious form and motioning for Dabi to join. He settled in on the other side of you, kissing the back of your head and allowing himself to actually sleep for once. It was a special occasion, after all.
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Let Me In
EZ Reyes x F!Reader
Request by Anon: Can I request an Ez drabble where his relatively new girlfriend slips into an episode for the first time while they've been together? Like one day she just stops responding to his texts and calls, Letty notices she hasn't posted on social media, no one has seen her around town or at the club. He goes to her house to check on her, and she explains that this is something that just happens and people trying to cheer her up just makes her feel guilty. So he offers to be a silent character in her home during her episode, basically moving into her guest room. Like he'll just help out by going grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, etc., so that he can make sure she's nourished, well stocked, and clean. I understand if this is too uncomfortable because it involves mental illness, but if you felt comfortable enough to write it, I would really like that 💜
Warnings: mentions of depression/mental illness, language, EZ being a sweetie
Word Count: 2.3k
A/N: EZ being a mindful partner and caretaker is my jam. Hope you enjoy! xo
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Your phone buzzed again. When you looked down and saw EZ’s name lighting up the screen, you gnawed at the inside of your cheek before turning it back over and setting it face down on the couch next to you. For three days you had been dodging his text and his calls. As much as you hated ignoring him, what you would hate more was dragging him into the mess you felt like you were currently trapped it.
The two of you hadn’t been dating for very long. Things had been going well, and even outside of your new-found relationship with EZ, you had been doing well in general. Until one day when you woke up and started to feel yourself slipping. It’d been a while since you felt yourself spiraling downwards, and part of you figured that you were a little overdue for it, as fucked up as it sounded. You knew what you were in for, what to expect, but you didn’t want to put that on Ezekiel. Things were still so new, and so good—you didn’t want to stain that with the darkness that was swirling around inside your head. Besides, it was better for you to get through your depressive episodes alone. You couldn’t handle other people’s guilt on top of your own depression.
EZ was sat at the bar in the clubhouse, staring intently at his phone. He felt like if he looked at it long enough, your contact photo would light up the screen with a phone call. But he had no such luck. The anxious part of him worried that you had just woken up and decided to drop him and move on, but that just didn’t seem right—things had been going so well. He knew that things were still fresh with the two of you, though, and he didn’t feel comfortable just showing up and kicking your door in, especially when you had been making a point to not talk to him.
“You alright?” Letty approached him, instantly noticing the worried look on his face.
He looked up at her from the screen of his phone, “You heard from Y/N?”
She shook her head, “Not the past few days, why? She okay?”
He sighed, shaking his head, “I don’t know. She hasn’t been answering my calls or texts. Just starting to get worried.”
Letty was already scrolling on her phone to see if she had seen any posts from you the past few days on social media. But there was nothing. She looked over at EZ, “Nothing. Maybe you should go check on her. Can’t hurt.”
He nervously twisted his hands in his lap, “I don’t want to just show up like that. I don’t think we’re really there yet.”
Angel scoffed from the stool next to him, “Don’t be like that, ‘mano. If you’re worried go check on her. She hasn’t been around lately.”
EZ knew that he would never win an argument against the both of them. So with a heavy sigh he got up from his seat and made his way towards the door of the clubhouse. He texted you to tell you that he was on his way, but in his gut, he knew that the text was most likely going to go unanswered.
When he pulled into your driveway, he saw that your car was there. That at least gave him reassurance that you were home, not stranded or lost somewhere. He hung his helmet off the handlebar and made his way up to the front door. Taking a deep breath, he reached forward and knocked on your door.
You’d heard EZ’s bike long before you heard the knock at the door. You contemplated, for a fleeting moment, not answering the door. But you knew that wasn’t fair to him—none of this really was.
You unlocked and opened the door and you could instantly see the relief on his face when he saw that you were alive and in one piece. That relief, however, was brief as his features twisted into a look of concern. He saw the dark circles beneath your eyes, the hollowness in them.
“Hey,” you offered up as you stood in the doorway.
“Hey, um,” he cleared his throat, “sorry to just turn up like this. I just…I got worried.”
“Sorry,” it was hard to meet his eyes.
There were a few beats of silence before he asked, “Can I come in?”
You glanced back over your shoulder for a second. Your house wasn’t a mess or anything, but usually you took extra care to straighten up when you knew that people, especially EZ, were coming over. There was no point in hiding it now, though. It was too late to pretend that everything was normal.
You opened the door and stepped aside so that he could come in. With a deep sigh you shut and locked it behind the both of you. You stayed put by the front door, not quiet sure what EZ was going to say or do. You were surprised that he didn’t seem angrier or upset about you completely blowing him off the last few days.
“Can I ask what’s been going on?” you could tell by the look on his face that he was trying to choose his words carefully.
You gnawed at the inside of your lip for a second before walking towards the couch, motioning for him to follow you. You sat down next to him and pulled your legs up underneath you. He watched your every move, and you could see it in his eyes that he didn’t know what was wrong but he already wanted to fix it.
“I’m sorry that I’ve been blowing you off,” you sighed and ran your hands over your face, “I just, I sort of shut down sometimes. I’m used to how I operate, but I probably should’ve mentioned something about it to you.”
“About what?” he was a smart man, but he still wanted you to be able to tell him in your own words what was going on.
You fussed with the hem of your hoodie, “About my depression. There’s just, you know, never a good time to bring it up,” you let out a hollow chuckle, “Not necessarily the best ice breaker on a first date,” you shook your head, “But anyway. Some days it’s worse than others. It’s always pretty manageable, but when it gets bad I usually just shut down and stay in. I know how to handle myself and it’s easier to just get through it alone.”
“I can help,” his tone was so sincere.
You nodded, “I know you would. But people trying to cheer me up or get me to do shit just…makes it worse. I just gotta ride it out. Things always end up leveling off and going back to normal. I just don’t really have the capacity to handle human interaction.”
“I can help and also not talk to you,” he wasn’t trying to make light of your situation, but you could still see a hint of a smile playing at his lips as he made his offer.
It got you to give a small smile in return, “I’m not going to ask you to do that.”
“You’re not asking,” he scooted a little closer to you, “I’ll stay out of your way. I can crash on the couch, or in the spare room. You won’t even know I’m here. I’ll be like your Alfred. Only better-looking.”
“Ezekiel,” you shook your head, “you really don’t have to—”
“But I want to,” he cut you off but his voice was still gentle, “If you really can’t stand me after a couple days then I’ll pack my shit and leave you alone until you’re feeling better. Promise.”
You sighed, not having the energy to really fight him on it. You gave a slight nod, “Okay.”
“Yea?”
You nodded, “Yea.”
You felt like there was something more that you should say but you couldn’t. Your brain felt like it was coated in a fog. Without another word about it, EZ stood up and gave you a light kiss on the top of your head before heading back out the way he came so he could go pack some clothes and things to keep at your place.
When he got back to your place, you were curled up on the couch underneath your blanket. The television was on despite the fact that you weren’t really listening to it—it just was better than complete silence. EZ toed off his boots by the door, his footsteps surprisingly soft as he made his way through your house to set his things in your spare bedroom.
You looked over at him when he came back down the hall. He looked over at you for a moment and smiled but didn’t say anything as he made his way over into the kitchen. A few seconds later you heard the sink turn on. Propping yourself up on your elbows you peeked to see what he was doing. His back was completely to you as he started to work through the dishes that had been accumulating in your sink. You watched him for a minute, and if you listened hard enough you could hear him quietly humming to himself as he did. You laid back down on the couch, letting your eyes drift shut to the sound of the television and the water running in the next room over.
Ezekiel was true to his word—he didn’t push you to do anything or speak with him. Over the course of the next few days, he kept himself busy. He went to the store, trying his best to figure out what you needed without having to ask you. He cooked for you, silently setting the plate down either on the coffee table or on your nightstand depending on where you were. Occasionally he would press his lips to the top of your head in a light kiss, but he tried never to linger.
Truthfully your house had never been so clean. You were a fairly tidy person when you were in a good space, but EZ’s dedication to cleaning your place far exceeded yours even on your best days. He refused to let himself sit idly by if there was something that he could be doing. You’d grown accustomed to the sounds of him walking through your house, going up and down your stairs to and from the basement as he did your laundry as well as his own. You knew when he was really into his tasks because he would absentmindedly hum little tunes while he busied himself.
The smell of dinner had been filling the house for what seemed like ages. You had strolled through the kitchen a couple times, disguising your curiosity by making it seem like you just wanted to get yourself a bottle of water. EZ was so engrossed in his cooking process that he didn’t even notice. Before this point, you never really thought about if he could cook, but apparently, he could and he was very good at it.
You were sat on the couch, scrolling trying to find something to put on the TV that piqued your interest. EZ came over and set a plate down in front of you. You looked up at him, offering up a quiet thank you. He nodded in response and turned around to go to his room.
“EZ,” you called after him. You waited for him to stop and turn to you, “There something you wanna watch?” you held the controller out to him
He raised his eyebrows, unable to pretend that he wasn’t a little surprised at the gesture, “Yea?”
You nodded, “All the titles are starting to look the same to me.”
He chuckled as he sat down, taking the controller from you, “I get it.”
You watched him as he scrolled through the titles in front of him. His brows furrowed as he read through one show synopsis after another. Despite how heavy everything had felt lately, there was something reassuring about the position you currently found yourself in. Even though you hadn’t wanted him to stay, to see you like this, you had to admit that it was nice to finally have someone around who knew how to have your back when you were going through it. He knew how to be there and not suffocate you.
“Thank you,” you said as you started to pick away at your dinner.
He chuckled, “Picking a show isn’t that hard. Don’t need to thank me.”
You smiled and shook your head, “Thank you for staying with me. I know it’s not exactly exciting but it’s…I kind of like you being here.”
“Kind of?” he playfully nudged your knee with his own.
“Keeping you humble. I’m not that out of it.”
He laughed for a moment before his expression grew a little more serious, “Thank you for letting me stay. I know that wasn’t easy.”
You nodded slowly, “Yea. But, y’know, it was nice for the guest room to finally get some use.”
One end of his mouth curled up in a smirk, “I might show up and stay there uninvited all the time.”
You shook your head, biting back a smile. It’d been a long few days, and it wasn’t over yet. But for a few minutes you got to feel a little lighter and that was a feeling you wanted to hold onto while you had it. You watched EZ out of the corner of your eye as he focused on the television. You weren’t much for company but there was something comforting about his presence. Even if you didn’t want to admit it, you were glad that he’d shown up on your doorstep.
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Temporary Home: Chapter 15
Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!)
Summary: Peter and you have started another prank war. Who will come out on top?
Previous Chapter here | Next Chapter Here
Or click here to: Start From Beginning
Author’s Note: Thanks to anon for submitting this idea for a cute fluffy scene to include in the story! Also, for my records this chapter ends on day 29 of the Guardians living with reader. Enjoy!
Word Count: 6,812
It soon became clear that the prank war was back on.
Just as you had resolved to the previous night, you squirted lemon juice in Peter's coffee when he wasn't looking.
He made a face upon tasting his ruined coffee, but just gave you a look of sleepy contempt as he dumped it in the sink rather than complaining. He knew what he had done to deserve it. However, that didn't mean he wasn't going to get you back.
He had his revenge later in the sitting room. He called you over, stating he had a question about a book. When you got closer to him, he then asked, "Hey, do you smell popcorn?"
You raised an eyebrow, and of course took in a big whiff. Big mistake.
You immediately gagged, your nostrils having been assaulted by the rankest smelling fart you think could have ever been expelled from a human body. It even rivaled Yondu's incident with dairy.
Peter lost it, doubling over with laughter as you backed away with your mouth and nose covered.
"Ugh! You nasty fecker! Oh my god!" you cried out, still backing away. "What's wrong with you!"
Kraglin, Drax, and Rocket were now also laughing from their places near the television. Drax laughed the loudest, saying, "Quill! That was brilliant! I'm not even mad that I lost the bet! HAHAHA! I'm going to try that!"
The bet he was referencing had happened moments prior, when Peter saw you in the hall and hurried into the sitting room whispering to his friends that he bet 20 units he could make you willingly smell his farts. Ah, what an immature lot they are.
You would have smacked Peter, but that would mean getting closer to him and the smell and you thought better of it, instead turning with the intent to leave the room completely, leaving them still laughing in your wake with only revenge on your mind.
You tried to think about what you had at your disposal, and remembered that you still had the whoopee cushion after you had snatched it back from Kraglin during the last prank war. You kind of wish you knew where your spider went though. It proved marvelously effective last time. After Peter threw it at you and it resulted in your arm getting injured, you hadn't really thought about what happened to it afterwards until now. You obviously hadn't taken it, so you just assumed that it must still be with Peter. You momentarily considered looking in his room for it, but the thought of searching through his stuff felt strange to you, even if you would be looking for your own toy.
You remembered the sticky notes in your desk up stairs and thought if worse came to worse, you could always pull a classic "Kick me" sign.
You decided a walk might help you consider your options better and so you collected your earbuds from the hall table and made your way towards the back door. You noticed Gamora in the kitchen on your way, and realized she might actually have the answer to one of your questions.
"Um, hey, Gamora?"
She turned to give you her attention. "Yes?"
"I was wondering..." You suddenly felt ridiculous for asking, but pushed it down, "if maybe you had seen if Peter still had that toy spider of mine? I was wondering if I might have it ba-"
"Nuh-uh. That ain't happening."
You raised an eyebrow in surprise, but not at her, for she hadn't been the one to answer, and she was just as surprised by this sudden third-party interjection.
It had been Yondu who had spoken, and he spoke again. "I'm the one that's got it, and I ain't givin' it back." He sat at the table looking at you with his arms crossed and wearing a smirk, as if daring you to complain about it. He had snatched it the night you dislocated your elbow, around the time he was scolding Peter and Kraglin and calling an end to that prank war himself after it had resulted in an injury.
You raised both eyebrows in surprise now. "Excuse you?" you say, surprised at his boldness and a bit irritated at how he now seemed like a scolding teacher who had confiscated contraband from a naughty child.
"Yondu, you can't just steal her property." Gamora chided.
"Ya heard me. Last time she and Quill had it that happened," he gestured to your arm. "So I'm keeping it since clearly neither of the two of 'em seem to have any sense. She wouldn't be askin' for it back if they weren't gettin' into it again."
You exchanged a look with Gamora. Her expression told you that she seemed to agree with his argument, but didn't want to risk saying so, and that she now seemingly regretted being involved in this situation.
Deciding you were on your own you opened your mouth to tell him off, but before you could he spoke again.
"Don't try denyin' it either. I saw ya putting that sour juice stuff in his coffee. I know the two of ya are back at it again with that prank war stuff," he said almost smugly. "Ya ain't getting it back." He didn't want another prank war to result in more injuries, and if he was honest, he was still slightly salty about having been caught in the crossfire of one of your pranks that had been meant for Peter. He thought outright admitting to confiscating your spider toy would hopefully send the message to you to knock it off before you got started.
You bit your lips and narrowed your eyes at him, half embarrassed at being called out like that. You then shook your head. You were not about to demand or beg for the return of a rubber spider like a child. You straightened your back slightly and said, "Whatever. Keep it then. Don't care." in your best flippant tone. You turned away, putting in your earbuds and added, "Going for a walk. Try not to burn the house down," as you exited out the back door and left the two of them in the kitchen.
You didn't need that spider anyways.
***
It was a cooler day out, overcast in a way that made you think it might rain that night, and you were glad you thought to grab a jacket before you left for your walk. You thought you might visit your old tree, and assess that old door while you were out there. There wasn't a whole lot you could do with your arm still in a brace, but you knew you could still at least open it and give it a general look to see what you might need to build a new door for it.
However, when you got there you quickly realized that the door was simply too awkwardly big and slightly too flimsy due to decay from the elements to risk trying to open it with just one arm. You didn't want to risk falling in it and either causing further injury and/or not be able to climb back out if it turned out the ladder rungs descending into the tunnel were bad too. You were now kicking yourself for not having fixed it months ago when you first noticed how bad it had gotten. At least at that period of time your arm wasn't in a brace and you didn't have eight houseguests to worry about.
You sighed. For now you settled on making a list in your phone of the different materials you'd need to make a sturdier door in the future when you were less... indisposed. No big deal. The world wasn't going to end if you couldn't fix it immediately, and honestly it was probably dumb of you to come out there right now in the first place. Sure, maybe you could get the door built in your current state. Maybe. If no one was around to see you breaking the doctor's orders on the weight restriction and then tell on you to Fury. But that didn't change the fact that you'd then need to carry it out there somehow. Something you definitely couldn't do in your current state. There was perhaps the option to bring the materials out there and assemble them on-sight, but you knew you couldn't carry them out there in a timely fashion either. Could you if you asked for help? Absolutely. Were you going to? Not a chance.
You hung out around the tree for a bit, just listening to music before deciding to head back, and that's when you noticed some pine cones littering the ground.
This gave you an idea. You remembered once when you were little and your dad took you and your brother camping. Your brother had hidden pinecones in the bottom of your sleeping bag. Your feet came in contact with the foreign objects, and being met with weird almost scaly feeling forms instead of the softness of your sleeping bag made you jump right out of said bag with a shriek.
You grinned. You had found your revenge prank. You only hoped that it would have the same effect on a grown man finding these at the foot of his bed as it did on seven-year-old you finding them in your sleeping bag.
Now you had another reason to be glad you wore a jacket. You could hide the pinecones in the pockets as well as hiding them inside the jacket itself and zip them inside.
You loaded up several pinecones. Enough to be sure he'd notice when crawling into bed, but not so many that they'd be noticed as you snuck them into the house.
You arrive back at the house to find the house mostly quiet, and it made you worry that Peter might be in his room and you wouldn't be able to place the pinecones.
However, just to your luck, you managed to catch a glimpse of him and a few others out front through the kitchen window. Perfect.
You quickly make your way upstairs and headed towards Peter's room. The upstairs seemed to be empty and you were just about to congratulate yourself on your good fortune as you already started pulling pinecones out of your pockets, until you noticed Rocket standing in Peter and Gamora's room.
Seeing him caused you to start and you dropped a couple of your pinecones on the ground due to your arm brace hampering your ability to reflexively catch them before they fell. The sound of the pinecones hitting the floor caused Rocket to startle in turn.
"Uh..." you said awkwardly, stepping into the room and picking up your pinecones, "What you doing?"
Rocket, who had been digging through a dresser drawer, responded with, "...Nuttin. What are you doing?" He eyed the pinecones in your hands.
"Nothing." You responded.
An awkward silence fell for a moment. You both knew the other wasn't really supposed to be there, that the only reason for being there right then was mischief of some sort, and you both knew that the other knew that you knew. There was only one thing for it.
Rocket spoke again. "Right..."
You nod. "Yes... good. So... carry on then?"
Rocket nodded slowly. "Yeah..." He turned back to looking for whatever it was he was snooping for.
Taking the hint, the unspoken 'I won't tell if you won't," you carried out your plan, removing the pinecones from your jacket and placing them at the foot of Peter's bed under the blankets.
You finished quickly, catching Rocket's gaze again before you left. A silent nod was all that was exchanged and you were on your way.
***
The rest of the day was mostly uneventful. You read, you listened to music, you got roped into a game of Monopoly that went on far too long because Mantis kept needing reminded of the rules. You didn't entire blame her. It was pretty obvious that it was everyone but Peter's first time playing.
Speaking of Peter, you were surprised he hadn't tried to mess with you the entire game, and you wondered if Gamora might have got on him after hearing Yondu say he could tell that the two of you were starting in on another prank war, or if Yondu had scolded him himself.
Sometime after the game had finished- Gamora won, and Peter pouted- you went to get a drink from the kitchen. When you returned to the sitting room to grab another book to bring upstairs to read you saw Drax approach Yondu and ask, "Yondu, do you smell popcorn?"
Not wanting to sit through another round of what Peter had done to you that morning, you quickly grab a random Sci-Fi/Fantasy book from the shelf and turn to get out of there just in time to hear Yondu reply with, "What the hell is popcorn?"
This was immediately followed by the sound of a very loud fart along with Drax's booming laughter.
In startled surprise you sharply turned in their direction to see Drax laughing and Yondu's face scrunched in both confusion and what was likely disgust.
Peter was laughing too, but at Drax rather than Yondu's misfortunate proximity to his offender. "Drax! Buddy, the fart's supposed to be silent."
Drax didn't seem to mind his mistake, just simply responded with "Ohhh!" and continued to laugh while Yondu shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance.
Taking in the sight you couldn't help but giggle too at just how ridiculous the situation was. You brought a hand up to your mouth to suppress it, but the sound caught the attention of Yondu and Peter anyway. Yondu's eyes narrowed and Peter was pleasantly surprised that you found the situation funny as well.
You broke their gaze and retreated to your room. Better to escape before you risked smelling anything awful.
***
It wasn't hard to tell when Peter found what was waiting in his bed that night. However, instead of girlish screams like the night he found the spider, he let out a cry of, "Gah! What the hell!?"
You grinned as you sat on your bed reading your book. Mantis was already fast asleep in her bed, and she stirred at the sound of Peter's cries just on the other side of the wall. After looking toward you and seeing you sitting calmly she determined there must not be any danger and soon fell back to sleep.
A few minutes later, though, you were surprised to see Peter walking into your room.
Startled at the sudden intrusion you jolted and as he approached you, rather quickly at that, you said, "Hey- what are you doing?"
He stopped in front of you with a smirk and raised his arms. It was then you realized he had been carrying a shirt bunched up as if it were being used as a sack.
Unceremoniously he emptied the shirt/sack over your head, showering you with all the pinecones you had hid in his bed.
"Hey!" you complain, raising your good arm to shield your head from the coniferous onslaught.
Mantis stirred again, lifting her head to see what was going on.
"This is for leaving those in my bed." he laughed, turning to leave. "And don't think that counts as me getting you back!" he added as he stepped out the door.
Mantis yet again laid back down to rest upon seeing the disturbance was just Peter's shenanigans. You got the feeling that she must be used to it.
***
The next couple days were mostly spent with you and Peter battling back and forth via small pranks.
Yondu obviously noticed, and despite him acting like he didn't want the two of you to get started again, he didn't say or do anything to stop it. It was clear it was keeping your mind off what what had been bothering you, so he just let the two of you be. Especially as it seemed to be harmless.
Kraglin mostly stayed out of it this time. Sure, he helped Peter some, but he was still more likely to bend to Yondu's orders of "This prank war is over!" from last time. That, and he still felt bad about what happened with the incident with the spider, even if it had been mostly Peter's idea.
Peter got you with the old 'shoulder tap misdirection' a couple times, where he'd tap one shoulder and either be on the other side when you turned to look, or have walked away completely.
You hit back by turning the batteries backwards in the remote, knowing he'd likely be the first to use it that morning.
After he finally figured that one out, he decided he'd retaliate by turning all your books backwards on the shelf. When you walked in that evening to see him mid-prank, you simply sighed and rolled your eyes. Seemingly embarrassed to have been caught mid-prank he laughed nervously and straightened up, rubbing the back of his head.
You rolled your eyes and left the room, hoping that since he'd been caught he'd then turn them back right way round. Knowing it was unlikely, you decided to shove some newspaper in his shoes. You could hear Drax in the background laughing at Peter for getting caught as you walked away to retrieve an old newspaper from the table in the hall.
He clearly must have found it at some point the next morning because he got you back around lunchtime by pouring just a little bit of water in your seat right before you sat down to eat.
You jumped from your seat the moment you felt the cold water soak the left side of your ass and after a few seconds of reaching back to feel the wet spot and checking the chair you looked over to where he was sitting and narrowed your eyes.
He simply grinned at you like he had pulled the best prank ever.
Taking a breath, you straightened and just shook your head, warning him that he shouldn't escalate unless he wanted you to do the same.
He didn't seem to take your warning seriously.
***
The next morning when getting ready you saw that Peter had struck again. You didn't know when, or how he had managed to find the time to both sew a pair of your socks shut halfway down with sloppy grey stitches and place them back in your dresser (on top so they'd be first picked, of course) without you noticing, but you did know that this meant double war.
He had pranked you twice in a row, without waiting for you to have retaliated against his last prank first. Or, more likely, he had set this prank and then pulled another without waiting for you to find the first one. Tsk, Tsk, Peter. Bad form.
You found another pair of socks, luckily he had only bothered to adulterate one pair, and then went to confront him.
"You're really asking for it." you say, thrusting the socks towards him in the hall.
"What?" he asked. Trying to act innocent, no doubt.
"You sewed my socks shut. I warned you, don't escalate unless you want me to do the same."
There wasn't really any anger in your voice despite your warning tone, which Peter took as a good sign. "I didn't escalate-"
"Oh-ho! Don't try that with me! You double pranked!" As the words left your mouth you internally cringed. This reminded you of how the two of you had bickered like children in the grocery store. You pushed the feeling that you sounded like a teenager in a Disney sitcom aside for now.
Peter eyed you for a moment before crossing his arms and smugly replying, "Technically no. You interrupted my book prank and then stuffed paper in my shoes. So, because I technically didn't finish my prank, you double pranked."
"No-" you started.
"Yes." He laughed. "So if anyone escalated, it was you." He said in a teasing voice, aiming a couple pokes to your abdomen and making you flinch back at the touch.
"I did not!" you argued, smacking his hand away.
"Eh... ya kinda did..." he drawled out with a grin. "So, I think that means you gave permission for all unwritten rules of pranking to just be thrown out the window." He chuckled, a mischievous glint to his eyes.
"No-" you said warningly. "I did not." You could tell he was just trying to piss you off, but you weren't going to let him win.
"Yeah, I think you did..." He lightly laughed. "So anything else that happens... you'll only have yourself to blame." He said the last bit in a sing-songy voice and went to walk into the kitchen. He stopped momentarily and turned back to you with a grin. "However, you can always avoid any further annoyance by just declaring me the prank master..."
You blinked at him. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me. Declare I'm the prank master and you won't have to worry about what I'll do next."
You scoffed at him. "You're dreaming."
Peter grinned wider. "Nope. I'm just 'The Prank Master.'"
You narrowed your eyes and walked past him into the kitchen. "You're gonna regret that," you warned, earning only a chuckle from him. There was no way you were going to declare him master of anything.
You made your way to the pantry to find something quick for breakfast and Peter went to pour himself some coffee.
That's when you found it. Your next prank idea. And boy, was it going to be good.
While grabbing a pop-tart from the pantry, you happened to notice a certain box of gel food dye sitting next to your spices. Your eyes lit up, knowing exactly what you would do with it. You quickly pocketed the blue vile and hid the rest of the box behind the spices where it couldn't be seen for security purposes, just in case Peter would happen to have the same idea. You weren't going to do it right away, but knew it couldn't hurt to have the little bottle on hand just in case...
***
After breakfast you decided to head out to the shed to survey the pile of spare wood you had.
In the shed you found Rocket. This wasn't surprising as he spent a decent amount of time tinkering in the shed since you showed him the workshop. You still hadn't gotten around to finding the spare key for him, just letting him continue to use yours since there wasn't a lot you could do out there anyway until you got the brace off anyway.
You greeted him with a simple, "Hey," that Rocket returned as you made your way back to the spare wood to look over what you had on hand as far as repairing the old tunnel door to get an idea of what might you need to pick up from town.
Was it useful to look now seeing as you likely wouldn't get the brace off for at least a couple more weeks? No, but you were restless and you were really just looking for an excuse for something to do until that night when you could enact your prank.
"Whatcha doing?" Rocket asked, barely looking up from whatever plans he was drafting up on the old pad of paper you left out in the workshop.
"Nuttin," you reply, finishing up your shifting around of the wood and determining that you might have just enough of the right cuts already out there to make a full door, but you might need to pick up some more wood for it, as well as some brackets, later.
Rocket grunted in response and you start to walk back out when something caught your eye over by the long workbench.
You looked down to examine it, and a slight smile played on your lips.
"Did you fix my stool?" you asked, turning to him.
He didn't look up. "Nope."
You raise an eyebrow, mouth twitching upwards in humor. "Oh really? Then who did, if not you? Other than me, you're the only one who comes out here."
Rocket's gaze remained on the notebook. "Dunno. Must have been a 'stool fairy.'" Those last two words were laced with sarcasm.
You smirked. "Ah. I see. Well if you happen to see this 'stool faery,' be sure to tell him I said thank you." You turn and begin to walk out of the shed.
Rocket's ears twitched back for just a second and he grunted out in response, "Uh huh. Sure thing."
***
Unfortunately the stars didn't align that night for you to use the gel coloring on Peter. You had to time it just right to both make sure no one got caught in the crossfire and to not make it obvious you were up to something.
This, however, was probably for the best because Fury's visit the next day caught you off guard. You had been so busy pranking and being pranked and researching door construction and tunnel maintenance that you had managed to lose track of the days and didn't realize it was time for another weekly check-in until you heard him knock at the door that late afternoon. The sound actually startled you at first, and you mentally cursed him for insisting on keeping the times he'd show up a surprise.
Again, probably for the best you weren't able to pull that prank. You weren't sure how pleased Fury would be with you if he saw what you had planned to do to Peter if you had succeeded in going through with it.
The visit was brief. Same old news about the Guardian's situation; nothing changed, little to no progress made. It was time to re-stock the rations again and the guys helped Maria with that like last time. The doctor also accompanied them, and of course he ignored your case for removing the brace and instead just set the hinge to a slightly increased range of movement. He did say that as long as you continued your 'good behavior' it might be ready to come off the next week. You weren't going to hold your breath. Oh, and he also increased your weight restriction to ten pounds. Yay...
At one point Agent Hill pulled you aside like last time, wanting to check in to see if matters regarding your mental health had improved since the last visit.
You answered honestly that they had, but didn't bother to mention that the reason why was likely because Peter had managed to keep you annoyed enough that you didn't have time to dedicate enough thought to what had previously been bothering you.
She tried to pry more, but you weren't really giving her anything, so she just resigned that what she had been able to garner was good enough and the two of you rejoined the group just before Fury announced they would be leaving.
***
It didn't take long after they left for Peter to resume being his annoying self.
You were in the sitting room trying to read, but Peter kept singing along to a song on his Zune that he had come to realize you absolutely hated. To make matters worse, it seemed that he was intentionally singing as poorly as he could just to annoy you. He even got Kraglin to join in with him.
How could you tell it was just to annoy you? Well it didn't start with the singing. It started with tapping. Constant tapping. With his foot on the floor. With his knuckles on the coffee table. He even came up behind you at one point after you refused to react and started tapping you on the head as you sat curled on the sofa attempting to read. That one finally got you to react and scold him to knock it off, and that's when he switched to singing.
Of course, you told him to take it somewhere else. Did he listen? No. He instead moved to sit right next to you and sang louder.
You threatened to chop him in the throat if he didn't take his annoying self somewhere else, and while that got him to stand up, he didn't leave. Instead that's when he recruited Kraglin, who had walked in just a few moments prior to see what all the racket was, and who also didn't hesitate to accept an earbud from Peter and follow his lead.
You tossed your head back on the sofa in frustration and let out a growl as you gritted your teeth.
Peter broke his singing to laugh and tell you that he warned you, all you had to do to make it stop was admit his was the master.
And that's when you threw the pillow at him.
Well, you had been aiming for him, at least. You would have hit him too, had he not dodged at the last second, allowing for the pillow to instead smack Yondu, who no one had noticed had walked into the room, right in the face.
Your eyes widen, as do Peter's and Kraglin's. Only they're trying not to laugh as Yondu's stony face stares at you.
In your startled shock you stammer as you attempt to make an apology, but as he picks the pillow up from the floor all you are actually able to get out is, "I- Uh- I didn't mean-" and a nervous giggle.
Yondu stands back up, pillow now in his hands, and cocks his head at you. "Oh so ya think that's funny, huh?" He starts to walk towards you.
You of course deny it, trying to set the record straight that it had been meant for Peter, but the glint of a playful grin mixed with his grouchy façade made you unable to suppress a nervous grin as he approached. He then tossed the pillow back at you and you deflected it back onto the sofa.
"Nah, I think ya thought that was funny, even if it was meant for my boy." He was standing over you now and Peter and Kraglin were snickering as Peter encouraged him, saying that he thought you definitely thought it was funny to have hit Yondu with the pillow.
"Looks like someone needs to teach ya a lesson in manners, missy." Yondu said as he reached out and squeezed rapidly right above your knee.
Caught off guard you instantly throw back your head and cackle, your hands instinctively reaching for his as you kicked out. "No! Stop it!" you cry out between giggles before managing to free yourself and stand up from the sofa.
Abandoning your book you attempt to escape, but Yondu just grabs you by your good arm and pulls you back, effortlessly succeeding in securing you in a headlock and purposely arranging it so that your good arm was between the two of you and your braced arm was out to the open. He knew with the limited range of motion the braced arm had available you wouldn't really be able to use it to help free yourself in any meaningful way. He then proceeded to give you a noogie.
"Hey! Cut it out!" you complain, uselessly pushing against his shoulder from behind with your good arm. You cursed your arm brace. Without it you could have gotten out of this hold in 3 seconds tops. You still technically could, but didn't want to use that method unless you had to. You didn't want to risk hurting the older man, after all.
Yondu paused a moment and pretended to think. "...Nah. I didn't get an apology yet."
"Ugh! Fine! I'm sorry about the pillow! Happy? I already told you I meant it for Pe-TER!" You squeaked when Kraglin cheekily couldn't resist coming up to pinch your ribs in your current vulnerable state. "Knock that off!" you ordered. It of course only earned you another tickly squeeze from the first mate and the three men to laugh as you commanded Yondu to let you go before you made him.
"Ya ain't gonna make me do nuttin, missy." Yondu laughed, clearly believing he could take you in a fight any day even if your arm wasn't injured. "Where's my apology for when ya pranked the sink and it sprayed all over me?" Yondu asked with a mischievous chuckle. He then pinched your nose shut just to mess with you further. This prompted you to smack his shoulder with your good hand, but he did let go, laughing about how you were a 'feisty one.'
"Yeah," Peter egged on for the sink comment, laughing. "He yelled at me for that!"
You huff out a sigh. "Fine. Sorry for that too. Now this is your last warning to let me go!"
This only made Yondu and the other two laugh and Yondu went to noogie you again. Clearly they were underestimating you. Well, you did try to give him a warning...
In one quick motion you positioned your foot between his so that your leg was locked behind his thigh, reached your good arm up to rest your hand on his forehead, and threw your weight backwards, sending you both to the floor.
Yondu went easily, clearly having been caught off guard and landed on his back with an "oof!" and subsequently released you. Surprisingly though, he didn't seem angry about landing on the floor.
As you both sit up he was actually chuckling, to your surprise.
"Damn, didn't think ya had that in ya." Yondu laughed as he stood up.
Peter and Kraglin, who had went momentarily silent when the two of you fell, were now laughing again. Kraglin made a joke about how he didn't know you could actually fight.
You just grumbled and grabbed your book, deciding you would retreat to your room to finish reading for the night where you were less likely to be annoyed.
Ironically, the whole ordeal actually caused you to forget about the prank you had intended to pull on Peter until you again missed your chance to do it. Oh well, there was always tomorrow, right?
***
The next day you announced to those in the kitchen that you were making a run into town and told them if there was anything they needed to let you know now while you were making a list.
They didn't list-off much. Again, SHIELD provided them with pretty much everything they needed. Some razors, hair conditioner, lotion, and a couple requests for some Earth snacks they had come to enjoy were among the items requested. Simple stuff.
Then Yondu decided to be cheeky and claim his request was for you to take Peter with you again.
"No way," you say flatly, remembering the last run into town. "Not happening."
Yondu just grinned and leaned against his chair. "Fury said ya got to. Ya can't leave without a buddy 'til yer arm is healed up." He elbowed Kraglin and added, "Didn't he, Krags?"
Kraglin, clearly not expecting to be suddenly roped into the conversation said, "Uh, yeah. When you was in the other room talking to that Miss Agent Hill lady when they was here yesterday. He-uh- he told us then." He wasn't exactly the best liar.
You narrowed your eyes. "He did not." You looked to Gamora, who seemingly then immediately realized she had anywhere else to be before you could ask her to confirm.
"Ya can always ask him yerself." Yondu smirked, sure that like last time you wouldn't dare call Fury to confirm.
"Or I can not do that because I know he didn't," you countered.
"I wouldn't be too hasty girl," Yondu drawled. "'Cause what if I'm right? Ya leave without a buddy, and we can just call him and tell him ya broke his rules... and well, we all know what he said he'd do with ya if ya did that."
"You know, I didn't really take you to be such a snitch." You say, irritation clear in your voice. You knew it was at best childish, and at worst fighting words, but you were too frustrated to care.
Instead of being offended, Yondu just laughed and leaned back with his hands folded behind his head. "Gotta do something to pass the time. 'Sides, I think 'blackmail' has a nicer ring to it than 'snitchin'."
You glare at him, not giving him the satisfaction of telling him that he was technically right. This wasn't him being a snitch. This was blackmail. You just didn't understand why this was the hill he decided to die on.
He continued. "Yer better off to just save yerself the trouble and take Peter."
You eye him for a bit before deciding this time you would call his bluff. Partially because you knew he was lying, but also because a tiny part of you was afraid he wasn't, and you knew what would happen if he wasn't.
You dialed up Fury, knowing that the consequences for possibly annoying him with a dumb phone call were vastly less than what they'd be if you disobeyed an order, especially since you were already skating on thin ice. He also seemed to be less upset with you lately due to your 'good behavior,' so at least you had that going fo you. You almost thought you saw Yondu's smirk falter when you started dialing. Almost.
To your surprise, Fury answered after only a couple rings. You put the phone on speaker, and inform him your reason for calling was to confirm something that had been said.
"They're trying to tell me that when Agent Hill pulled me aside yesterday you instructed them to tell me that, under your orders, I am not allowed to drive into town without taking someone with me until my arm heals. Is that correct?"
Fury was quiet a moment before he answered, his voice seeming neutral. "I did not say that."
Yondu and Kraglin's faces fell slightly, and like a child you made a quiet, "Ha!" noise and stuck your tongue out at them, but before you could thank him, Fury spoke again.
"But I am now."
Your eyes widened and shot back to the phone, as if you'd be able to see your director in there. "I'm sorry, what?"
Yondu burst out laughing at your expression, and Kraglin joined in with a grin.
"Effective immediately I'm requiring you to bring a companion on any trips you make into town. Mr. Quill would be the safest choice, but as long as they pass for human, I don't care who it is."
You tried not to sputter. "Sir-... that-... Why-??"
"It's not a bad idea," he said cooly, adding, "and if you're gonna call me to settle a petty squabble then you better be prepared to get an outcome you aren't going to like." He didn't sound angry, more just matter-of-fact.
You blinked. Did he really just imply he was doing this just to annoy you? "Sir, I ask you to reconsid-"
"If you want to keep going, Agent, I can easily make this decision permanent."
This set off another round of laughter from the guys, including Peter from behind you who had walked into the kitchen with Gamora at some point. You didn't know how long they were standing there, but it seemed he had also heard Fury's decision.
With slight heat in your cheeks, you respond to your director. "No, sir."
"Good. Have a good day, Agent." Fury replied, and then hung up. If you didn't know better, you'd say his tone sounded almost amused.
You put the phone back in your pocket and rubbed your hand over your eyes while the others teased you.
"That's what ya get for not just listenin' to me in the first place, girl. Now ya really do have to do it!" Yondu laughed.
"I hate you," you say bluntly.
He only grinned in response and called over to Peter. "Ya heard the man, boy! Looks like yer takin' a trip!"
Peter grinned cheekily at you and you roll your eyes. "Fine. Get ready," you order as you walk past him and out of the kitchen. Then, seeing an opportunity to let out some frustration (probably misplaced in this instance, honestly) you turned back with a smirk and added, "This time don't forget to go potty before we leave!"
You turned away again, but not before being able to see the cheeky grin fall from his face and hear him yell back, "Not cool, dude!" along with some snickering from the others in the background.
Little did you know, though you probably should have, that decision to embarrass him would seal the fate of your nerves, and possibly your sanity as well, on the trip to come.
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Hii if your requests are open can u do one where the reader and draco are married and he wants to have kids but she keeps avoiding it and saying they should wait a bit longer. And then they end up talking and the reader confesses she scared of going through pregnancy because it just sounds so painful and that when she was younger she was a little chubby and it took her forever to lose that weight so she’s also scared of gaining weight and being undesirable after? Just some cute fluff and maybe dad!draco
founding of a family | draco malfoy
pairing: draco x reader
word count: 1,7k
summary: where draco wants to have children, but y/n doesn’t
a/n: uni starts again next week so i try to work on as many requests as i can before that! <3
warnings: angst, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of insecurities regarding weight
universe: harry potter
Draco’s return is announced by the opening and the following closing of the front door and not a second later, he walks over to you into the kitchen, where you are currently busy preparing your dinner. When you hear his footsteps behind you, you turn to him with a smile on your face, even though you briefly get startled at the sight of him. It must have been a very tough day considering the exhausted expression on his handsome face.
“Good evening, darling”, you greet him warmly and put your arms gently on his shoulders, looking deep into his gray eyes that are surrounded by emerging dark circles. Despite everything, he smiles back, exhausted but genuine.
“Hi”, he softly whispers to you and gives you a kiss to greet you while his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him, the tips of your noses almost touching after the kiss.
“Exhausting day?”, you carefully ask, already searching for an answer in his eyes.
“Yeah, you could say that”, Draco sighs but quickly puts a smile back on again in order to not unsettle you in any way. “Do not look at me like I am about to pass out. Don’t worry, I really am fine. At least now that I am reunited with you. I will be better in no time.”
“Then I will do my best to fulfill my job as a wife today”, you playfully tease him and give him a quick kiss before you go back to making dinner for the both of you, giving him the time he probably needs for himself after a tough day, letting him arrive at home entirely.
He has been coming back stressed and tense from his work as a healer for several weeks now. Apparently, it is the month when most magicians decide to get involved in accidents or need medical treatment. In any case, you do your best to at least relieve him of the burden in the short time you have together.
While you are serving the dinner for tonight – Draco’s favorite meal – he quickly sets up the table and lights the candle in the middle of it next to the bouquet he brought you last week. Even when he is not feeling well, he still manages to bring a smile to your face every day.
You sit down together and enjoy your time, in which you try to not remind him of his work. At least at home he should be allowed to relax and calm down after a stressful day.
“Now that you mention it.. Unfortunately, Harvey is absent next week and I have to double my shifts in the hospital”, Draco explains after listening to you intently about your plans for the upcoming week. The name makes you widen your eyes slightly since Harvey is one of the leading healers at the St Mungo’s Hospital, who has also become a good colleague and friend of Draco.
“Oh, why is that? Is he alright?”
“Yes, his wife is pregnant and they will probably welcome their newborn next week”, Draco says, finishing his plate while noticing out of the corner of his eye how your fork immediately sinks down.
There it is again: the topic. The topic that you absolutely want to avoid, but it feels like you get confronted with it every single week. And each time it ends up with two people getting hurt.
“Oh.. how-how nice”, you put on a fake smile and poke around your food, breaking eye contact with your husband.
“Right? Next week their life will change forever. I bet they can’t wait to welcome their child. Just imagine how their son or daughter will frolic around them, learning something new every day”, Draco enthuses and you can’t tell whether he even notices how much this topic bothers you. Did he not learn anything from your last arguments about pregnancy?
“Draco, please.”
“What?”
“Please stop talking about this again”, you almost beg him, and your heartbeat accelerates in fear that this conversation will soon escalate again.
“What is wrong about it? Every time I want to talk to you about it normally, you immediately become so dismissive, Y/N”, Draco confronts you and you can feel his piercing gaze on you, your hands clenching into fists under the table.
“That’s exactly it! We have talked about it a lot, it is enough”, you counter him, your words coming out harder than you expected.
“We have been married for two years now. Do you not want to see little versions of us walking around here? Or do you just.. do not want to have children with me?”, Draco asks and your head shoots up in an instant, your eyes meeting.
“What? No! It is not that, Draco.”
“Then what is it? I do not feel like arguing about it every single time. I do not want my parents to ask me whether you are already pregnant every time we visit them!”, Draco’s voice gets louder all of a sudden and you can no longer hold back the tears that are forming in your eyes.
“Because I am not ready!”, you yell at him and angrily get up from the table, tears now streaming down your cheeks as you run out of the dining room and into your shared bedroom, loudly slamming the door close behind you. Laying down in bed and snuggling under the thick covers, you let your tears and sobs run free. You press your trembling hands against your chest, feeling your pounding heart against it from the other side. Your blurry gaze falls on your bedside table where your moving wedding photo is placed. Grinning broadly, your former self smiles at the camera and you remember that this must have been the best and happiest day of your life so far.
With a loud sniff, you reach for it and lay it down to save yourself the sight of it. Then, you turn on your back and blankly stare at the ceiling. Until you hear a gentle knock on the door and quickly turn your back towards it.
“Leave me alone.”
“Please, babe. I am sorry.”
The quiet squeaking of the doors tells you that he has come into your bedroom nevertheless, and shortly afterwards you can feel the mattress next to you sink as he sits on it. Not giving him an answer, you hide your face in your hands.
Draco’s heart, on the other hand, breaks at the sight of you. He did not know that this topic really did bother you this much. To say he feels bad is an understatement.
Not quite knowing what he should do, he strokes your back very slowly and carefully, trying to calm you down somehow. While doing so, he does not miss that you turned your wedding photo around.
Although you do not want to admit it and he is actually the person you want to see the least right now, he manages to calm you down and your loud sobs slowly disappear. After he has handed you a handkerchief, you sit up and lean your back against the headboard while his guilty gaze follows your every move.
“I did not mean to hurt you”, Draco begins and even though you avoid his gaze on purpose, you can tell from his voice that he is serious.
“I know. I did not mean to freak out, but this topic.. I am just so incredibly scared, Draco”, you admit, nervously fidgeting with your fingers on your lap, not sure how he will react.
“What? You do not need to be afraid, baby. I am with you”, he assures you and takes your hand in his, briefly letting your wedding rings meet.
“You do not know how a pregnancy works. How much pain and problems it involves. The thought of being pregnant scares me. I can’t take responsibility for such a small human being, I am not in the right position to do so. I know how much you want children, but I just can’t”, you sob, suppressing your re-emerging tears.
“What are you even talking about? Are you listening to what you are saying? Of course you can! You are such a strong woman”, Draco reassures you, but his mere words can’t calm your thoughts either.
“Even if that is the case. Even if I get pregnant, Draco, it will not get any better after that. Then I have to put this tiny little being first and even if I can cope with this, then my body would still be deformed. Pregnancy can do so much damage to the body and.. what if you do not want me anymore? What if am undesirable for you afterwards?”, you explain to him honestly and he listens to you very carefully, now understanding your inner conflict much better than before. He knew about your insecurities.
“You are afraid that I would not love you anymore?”, he repeats your words, not understanding them correctly. “If you would get pregnant, I would love you even more afterwards. I could not think of anything more beautiful than you, no matter what. The way you would hold our child in your arms. It would be the most wonderful moment and you would look gorgeous and so stunning.”
When you suddenly throw yourself around his neck in relief, Draco can barely keep his balance and falls back onto the mattress with you on top of him. He hugs you tight, so tight that he is afraid of crushing you.
“I love you”, you whisper in his ear and by your soft voice he notices that you feel much better than before. Now that you have finally told him. Taking your face in his hands, he looks you straight in the eyes.
“No matter what happens, I will always love you, do you understand?”, Draco makes clear and you nod with a small smile on your lips before gently connecting your lips in a kiss.
“Maybe I am ready for it after all”, you say against his lips and the sudden speechless expression on Draco’s face that follows your words makes you giggle and blush. He crashes his lips against yours right away and turns you around, you now lying under his body. Feeling his smile against your lips, the heavy burden suddenly vanishes from your shoulders and the thought of pregnancy no longer scares you. It suddenly sounds more like something you really want to experience.
With Draco by your side.
Together.
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The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 25
Y/n puts an end to everything.
@dovahdokren @deadman-inc-bikeshop @lov3vivian @wisesandwichshark @scpdragon
⚠️HUGE⚠️ trigger warnings: rape, drugging, sex trafficking, VERY graphic descriptions of violence, physical violence (please let me know if I leave anything out)
Hannibal could walk through a valley of human suffering and not even flinch. You couldn't tell if that made him subhuman or superhuman. You, however, were just human.
You wanted to be a badass. You wanted to kick the door down and make a scene. But one woman was enough to break you.
She was wearing only a large t-shirt. A cloth bandage covered in blood covered her pubic area like a makeshift pair of underpants. She laid limply against a stone. Her arms were punctured where needles had been.
"I don't..." she mumbled, clearly intoxicated beyond function. "...don't make me..."
You knew you couldn't afford to stop. But compassion kept your feet firmly on the ground in front of her.
"What is Chase making you do?"
"I can't-" She said, pressing her forehead against the rock. "I can't be an unwoman-"
She began to slam her head against the rock with clear intent to take her own life. Without thinking, you grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her into the grass. She sobbed, a bloody, but thankfully, survivable, gash on her forehead.
"Tell me your name." You demanded, squeezing her shoulders.
"...Tiffany." She said with a sudden lucidity.
The name unlocked a memory in you. It was the still image of a sunny young girl, immortalized on a faded missing person's ad hung up at the grocery store. Tiffany Rose Pierce, it read.
"I'm gonna get you out of here, Tiffany." You whispered. "I'm gonna get all of you out of here."
"Vanguard won't like that." She said, slipping back into a state of minimal consciousness.
"Stay here." You instructed, pushing yourself back to your feet.
You readied your gun and slowly, carefully pushed the cabin door open. Suddenly, the stained glass window was the least of your worries.
The entire area was lined with cheaply-constructed bunk beds, like an overgrown henhouse. Women with distinctively long hair were shackled to the lower bunks. Their shaven counterparts, the unwomen, were forced to be the slavedrivers. They held the chained women down.
You heard the rattling of chains coming from the right. It was accompanied with screaming and wet slapping.
"Take daddy's cock you filthy fucking broodmare." A familiar voice grunted.
The only way you could look at him was behind the barrel of your gun. He was exactly how you pictured him while listening to his voice in the car. Unremarkable, middle-aged and serpentine.
"Pastor Armitage!" You yelled.
To hear someone call him by his title in the midst of violating a person was enough to send him into a panic. He sputtered and his entire face turned red.
He didn't suffer for long, though. A 12 gauge shell right through the face took care of that. Fragments of his head, his blood and brain matter splattered everywhere. His knees buckled and his limp body collapsed.
The room fell silent. Smoke trickled out of your barrel.
"Where's fucking Chase?" You asked the room.
Someone weakly pointed up the stairs. You met her eyes and nodded.
"Sorry about the mess."
Now you knew how Hannibal felt. Blowing someone's head off made you acutely aware of your own head on your shoulders. You held it higher. You felt no remorse as you ascended the staircase with your gun blazing.
You came across a room with some words etched in the door. 'Skin room'. You launched your foot squarely into the door, causing it to violently swing open.
You examined the room from behind the gun. Chase had done a hell of a job dressing up this cheap cabin bedroom like a hotel suite, but the smell hit you before you could be fooled. A brick chimney, a wine cooler and a mahogany desk were positioned so the eye would gravitate towards the luxury while the nose picked up the brutality. The stained glass window was suspended in front of the real window, absorbing the mid-morning light and giving the room an eerie sepia tint.
You cocked your gun to announce your presence. You heard the sound of running water, and then a side door swung open.
“You’ll forgive me a couple minutes to freshen up.” Chase said, shaking his hands dry. “Cleanliness is close to godliness, after all.”
You said nothing. You didn’t want to dignify him with a conversation.
He bent over and pulled a bottle of wine from his cooler. He placed it squarely on the desk. You looked at it, then did a double take. He grinned sadistically.
“Is that...” You leaned in to get a closer look. “1907 Heidsieck Monople Gout?”
Chase shrugged. “You tell me. You’re the wine expert.”
You’d heard many a conflicting story about the legendary 1907 Heidsieck. Some said as many as 2,000 bottles were pulled up from the depths of the freezing Baltic sea. Some said a single bottle could go for half a million dollars. With that kind of precedent, you never thought you’d ever have to worry about it. Yet, there it was. Right in front of you.
“I’m saving it for a special occasion.” Chase said, suddenly reminding you where you were.
You returned to your gun. “For when you kill me?”
“For when I save you.” Chase smiled, his unnaturally white teeth glistening in the sepia light. “See, Miss [F/N], you survived two of my attempts on your life. God has smiled down on you.”
“Or, maybe,” You interrupted. “You’re just horrible at killing.”
Chase raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.
"A knife through the hand hurts like a bitch, but it isn't fatal." You shrugged. "And you didn't do a good enough job beating the fear of death out of Catherine. Else she might have actually gone through with it. Maybe if you'd sent Tiffany-"
"God loves you." Chase interrupted before you could poke more holes in his attempts on your life. "Why you're still alive when so many less deserving of death have died is beyond me, but god works in mysterious ways, doesn't he?"
"She sure does." You smirked.
Chase cleared his throat. You'd pegged him as the type to get irrationally angry at the implication of god being a woman, so his reaction surprised you.
"Well, let's get down to business, shall we?" He gestured to a seat across from him.
You narrowed your eyes. "I don't think so."
"Pity." He pouted. "Not even for poor Mr. Graham?"
It dawned on you that he probably still thought he had Will, and you could use it to your advantage.
You held your gun at your side and hesitantly sat down in the seat. A gluttonous smile spread across Chase's face.
"So it wasn't wine after all." He said. "It wasn't even your own life. You're only willing to save your soul for the sake of your precious Will Graham."
"What do you care?" You growled through your teeth. "This is just a power grab for you. You wouldn't know what genuine empathy for another person feels like."
He grinned, as if someone had just flipped his 'on' switch. "Jesus does."
"Did Jesus use his influence to lure teenage girls into a sick breeding ring?" You sneered. "I don't remember that from VeggieTales."
"Genesis 1:28." Chase said. "And God blessed them, and God said unto them, be fruitful, and multiply."
"I suppose you also don't eat shellfish or wear mixed fabrics." You rolled your eyes.
"It's always the same arguments from you atheists." Chase scoffed, adding a distinct bite to the last word. "When are you going to show some actual proof that the bible isn't an infallible model for human morality?"
"Maybe when you stop eating shellfish and wearing mixed fabrics." You repeated.
"They are minor sins at best." Chase grimaced. "I have gotten right with Jesus. You, on the other hand, oh, you. Your sins are weighty."
"I did just blast a rapist's head off." You admitted. "And it's going to be two very soon if this one doesn't get to the fucking point."
"I know about your exploits." He squinted. "With Mr. Graham and the man with the Nazi accent."
"He's actually from Lithuania, which, if you wanna be technical," you corrected, just for the sake of being annoying. "Is an ex-Soviet state, but whatever."
Chase tensed up at being corrected. "I know about your hedonistic sexual activities with two men, your exploration. But in the bible, Satan approaches these two people called Adam and Eve..."
"No he didn't." You shook your head. "It was a serpent. The devil wasn't a concept when Genesis was written."
Chase gritted his teeth. "God made one man and one woman. Each to fill each other's sexual desires, within the context of marriage, entirely-"
"But Adam had two spouses, didn't he?" You cocked your head and smiled. "Eve wasn't even the first woman in Adam's life. That was Lilith."
Chase heaved a frustrated sigh. "How do you know that?!"
"I was raised catholic." You said in the tonal equivalent of smacking him upside the head. "I was forced into religion at a young age and brainwashed to hate myself."
"See, that's where we agree." Chase tented his hands, thinking he found a genuine point of connection. "Organized religion is a cancer on society. Christianity is fundamentally about a relationship with god."
You laughed. It was the first real, good laugh you had in a while.
"Don't laugh." He scolded. "I am sorry that that was your experience with religion and that the Catholic church modeled a false teaching of who god is and what he wants. Not all christians-"
You wiped a tear from your eye. "Homie, you killed four people in front of me."
He placed his hand over his heart. "And christ forgave me. And he can forgive you too."
"Alright, this has been fun and everything," you said, standing up. You aimed your shotgun and cocked it. "But, I did come here to kill you, so, open wide."
Chase put his hand squarely over the barrel and pushed it out of the way. "You don’t have the guts to pull the trigger."
You pulled the trigger and blasted his hand clean off. Any hope of reattachment was shattered, as bits of his hand painted the walls and floor.
You opened the gun and let the two empty shells fall to the ground while Chase screamed in agony.
Instead of going through the motions of reloading, you smashed him over the head with the gun. He wrapped his good hand around the barrel and attempted to wrestle it away from you. You took this as an invitation to corner him against the wall with the still-hot barrel against his neck. He smashed his forehead into your nose, sending you tumbling backwards.
The shotgun fell to the ground. You pinched the bridge of your nose to control the blood flow. Chase wrapped a champagne towel around his stump and picked up a small revolver on his desk. He let off a shot, which lodged itself into your shoulder. By the time he let off the second shot, you were on the ground. The third shot didn't fire, just let out a flash and a bang.
"Goddamn blanks!" He cursed.
He tore open a drawer and rummaged around for bullets, giving you a window to come up from behind and gouge your fingers into his eyes. He screamed, dropping a handful of bullets. He flailed aimlessly, then charged backwards, slamming you into the cheap drywall.
He felt around for the bullets without the advent of eyesight. You knew you wouldn't be able to take aim with your shotgun with a bullet lodged in your shoulder, so you dove for the revolver.
Chase grabbed you by the ankle and dragged you down. You hit the floor with a thud, the collision making the bullets jump. Chase grinned, using the sound to place them. He turned around and reached for one, while you scooped up another that had rolled under the desk.
You scrambled to your feet. Chase's hand was just centimeters from the revolver. Thinking fast (but not so thoroughly), you grabbed for the revolver. You wrapped your hand around the barrel, putting yourself at a disadvantage if he fired off another blank.
Chase, however, wasn't that forward-thinking, and opted for a childish game of tug-of-war instead. Knowing he had the brute strength advantage, you waited for him to pull back and released your grip. Chase tumbled, cursing on his way down.
With no thought on your mind but ending this, you launched your foot into his sack, causing him to scream and drop the gun.
Just as you thought it was over, just when the gun was in arm's reach, he kicked your knees backwards and you fell. You swallowed the pain and army crawled for the revolver.
"I don't think so." Chase spat, smiling like a maniac. He grabbed your face with his good hand and his fingers slithered down your throat.
"Choke..." he demanded. "Choke, demoness."
Strengthened by animalistic instinct, you crushed his fingers under your teeth. The sound of snapping bone filled the inside of your head and a sudden rush of blood flooded into your mouth. He withdrew his hand, leaving a finger behind to limply fall down your throat.
You coughed and gagged while Chase screamed. A single bloody digit dislodged itself from your windpipe, flew across the room and landed on the desk.
Chase sputtered something resembling a laugh. "Maybe you're not such a dumb bitch after all."
You grabbed the gun and pushed yourself up with the help of the desk. The finger stared up at you as you loaded the single bullet.
You positioned the finger onto the trigger and guided it with your gloved hand. Then you aimed it at his forehead. Dead by his gun, by his trigger finger. Bleeding on the ground in his private bunker while the empire he built collapses around him. A coward's death. It was poetic enough an end as he deserved.
"You want to say a prayer before you meet god?" You offered.
"My soul is saved." Chase said through ragged breaths. "My place in heaven is secured."
Bang. One bullet, right between the eyes. A bloody fingerprint on the pistol. You dropped the revolver and collapsed. You just laid there, listening to your phone buzz.
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Sealed Fates
This blog has no followers b u t this is my secret writing blog, where I have not posted any works....until now.
Simps, I present to you; Tobirama Senju.
Part 2 can be found here!
Word count: 3023
You burst through his office doors, not bothering to knock or give any announcement of your arrival to his household despite the late hour. You knew he wasn’t asleep; the man only slept when exhaustion won the battle against his mind and body.
Surely enough, there he sat at his oak desk, gracing you with a rare display of surprise upon his face.
“Tobirama Senju.” You growl, gritting your teeth.
He quickly collects himself, his surprised expression disappearing as though it was never there. He now looks tired—How many days has it been since he truly slept?
“I do not recall inviting you into my home.” He says pointedly, as his eyes fall back on to the papers in front of him. He begins scribbling on them, probably updating notes on the newest jutsu he’d created.
His lack of urgency towards you only makes you more annoyed; you thought the two of you were finally getting somewhere, after Tobirama saved your life from the clutches of death a mere month ago. You quickly learned that you were wrong, as he became more reclusive than ever following your discharge from the hospital.
You had every intention on broaching this topic with him in a professional manner, even going so far as to schedule a meeting with him—a meeting, with the man you served as some sort of assistant for a better part of your career as a shinobi.
All formalities went out the window when you quickly caught a glimpse of a very specific marking on the small of your back; one you knew quite well, but had no recollection of getting.
“How long have you had the seal on me?” You bark, taking one step closer to his desk.
He stops scribbling for a moment, considering your words carefully.
You don’t give him a chance to defend himself. “At what point did you decide to brand me with your jutsu?”
You take another step closer to him, and slam your hands down on the desk to get his undivided attention. You won’t let him get away with this without some sort of consequence; he may be above you in the world of shinobi, but he was not above you as a human being. It is time he was reminded of that.
Tobirama gives you a low sigh and then sets his quill aside. He leans back in his chair, lacing his fingers together in his lap. He looks at you with narrowed eyes, silently telling you to tread carefully as you speak. You ignore his warning, and more forward with your wrath.
“I have given you more than adequate work; I’ve dedicated my entire life to yours and Hashirama’s dream for this village. I have fought beside you, and for you without ever asking for anything in return.”
You notice your arms have begun to shake, so you grip the edge of the desk to stop yourself. Tobirama’s eyes have not left yours since he looked up at you, and you find yourself suddenly wishing he would look away. His stare is penetrating; making you feel as though he sees right into your very being.
Despite this, you continue with your rant. “Using this seal to spy on me, whenever, wherever you want—that is your payment to my loyalty, my blood, sweat, and tears?”
Your voice is bordering on shrill as you speak. Tears threaten to spill over your eyes, and you curse yourself for such a display of weakness in front of Tobirama.
“I have forgiven you for many, many, unspeakable things, Tobirama, but this crosses the line.”
He scoffs at you, while giving you a heated glare.
“You think I would place the Hiraishin seal on you with malicious intent?” He asks in disbelief.
His voice is lower than usual, cloaked in anger, as though he is offended by the accusations you are making against him.
You give him a humourless chuckle, “You would do anything if it meant furthering your goals.” You spit back at him.
You can feel the pressure of your chakra rising in the air around you, as you find yourself getting more and more upset with the man in front of you, and for once you think you will get the better of this stubborn man. Of course, he is one always one step ahead of you—his significantly more powerful chakra is threatening to squash yours as soon as the words are leaving your mouth.
Though you know it is a losing battle, you do not back down.
“I will not be insulted in my own home.” He states.
You’ve never seen him this angry before; not even with Madara. You have seen a lot of Tobirama over the years—one would argue that, aside from Hashirama, you know the younger Senju brother better than anyone. This anger you are seeing is entirely new to you though, and if it was not for the rage that burned within your soul, you might have even felt bad for invoking it.
“I will not be disrespected—not by you, or anyone else.” You reply, leaning into his personal space.
You have known Tobirama for too long; you know how to play to his weakness’. The pressure from your chakra, though significantly weaker than his, mixed with a newfound rage, and your close proximity, should be more than his sensory skills can handle at the moment. It would throw him off, and that is what you need right now to get a win.
“I will not tolerate being berated by an insolent girl, on a subject she knows nothing of.”
He surprises you by moving himself forward, sharing a space with you without a second thought. You are eye to eye now, his piercing gaze striking through you that much more. Your chakra’s shove against each other, battling for dominance.
You wonder why he doesn’t just end it; he is more than capable of doing so. Why drag it out for longer than necessary, especially when it is causing this much anger inside of him?
“This is my body, Tobirama!” You snap. “You do not get a say in this, no matter your excuse!”
Your proximity does not bother him, and it annoys you greatly. Even when you have the confidence to be this close to him; to challenge him—he is throwing you through another loop. When will you ever win with him?
You grit your teeth, breathing slightly heavier than you would normally. You continue to hold his gaze, though you feel like it is killing you from the inside out to keep doing so. You can’t back down from him this time; Tobirama has long ruled over your heart and mind far too easily. Now was a better time than any to prove to yourself that you can no longer be easily swayed by the younger Senju brother.
Tobirama narrows his eyes at you, lifting himself from his chair, pushing you out of his space with the sheer force and pressure of his chakra. You stumble backwards a bit, your stance falters for a moment as you are in awe of the raw power he possesses. You do not see it often, as he makes sure his power is stored away for only those who deserve it.
For a moment, you think you have gone too far.
You quickly regain your composure, and use your chakra to force his right back at him. His lips twitch upwards slightly, like a smirk was threatening to pull at the corners of them.
Was he...enjoying this?
It is gone as quickly as it appeared. You convince yourself that you imagined it.
“That seal saved your life.” Tobirama argues. He rounds the desk quickly, leaving you with no time to move with him before he has you trapped against the desk, facing him.
He leaves enough room for you to escape, if you feel the need to but you know you won’t. You are aware of what he is doing—forcing your hand to make you submit to him in this argument. He’d done it time and time again, though never with malice. Tobirama has spent his life being in command, never one to give up the control unless absolutely necessary. He understands that the presence of his chakra is intimidating, and he often uses that to his advantage. Clearly though, he has yet to realize that the threat of his chakra doesn’t work on you anymore.
“I don’t care.” You respond, your grasp on the desk behind you causing your knuckles to turn white. “I’ll never be able to remove it. I’m tethered to you for the rest of my life.”
You don’t mean for your words to sound so delicate, as though they were a confession of your soul. It doesn’t particularly bother you, because you have no intent on leaving his side any time soon, but your poor choice of words change the nature of the argument to an area you did not prepare yourself for.
Tobirama’s chakra stutters before the pressure of it dies off completely. Your own chakra is now powerful against him, causing it to forcibly push him away from you.
He is no longer glaring at you, but staring at you with eyes wide, and a slack jaw.
Perhaps your words affect him more than you can comprehend.
You retract your looming chakra, and step towards him, but he takes one step back for each foot you move forward. He is quick to hide his emotions again, replacing the softness he held in his eyes for you with a drawn out and irritated sigh. With closed eyes, he turns away from you.
You watch in complete disbelief. Tobirama Senju has just backed down from you; he submitted, and in turn, admitted to his defeat. You did not expect this from him.
You open your mouth to speak, but the lax of his shoulders stops you.
“I thought of it as a means to protect you.” Tobirama says gently. There is no trace of anger, or annoyance in his tone anymore.
You feel your resolve crumble at his tone, and your heartbeat doubles in the confines of your ribcage.
You hate this.
You hate how he renders you like this so easily.
His hands ball into fists at his sides as he lets his words hang in the air, allowing you the time to process them.
“You do not need to protect me, Tobirama; You have so much more to take care of in the village. You should have complete faith in my abilities as a shinobi to take care of myself.”
He scoffs loudly at your words, and shakes his head from side to side but he refuses to look at you.
You want to question him—make him tell you out right that he doubts your skills and has no faith in you at all; that your stint in the hospital and him saving your life were all the signs he needed to change his mind about you.
But seeing him this way leaves you with no other choice other than waiting it out.
Minutes pass as you both stand there in silence. Tobirama is seemingly struggling to find the words he has been looking for, and you are just waiting for him to speak them. You decided that one way or another, the two of you would settle whatever this is before either of you leave the room.
You only hope it won’t end with him saying all the things you can’t bear to hear; such as how useless you are, or how much he doesn’t need you anymore.
If that is what it came to though, so be it. If it meant sorting this out, you would take his words with your head held high.
You rest your hips against the desk, folding your arms over your chest.
“Tobi,” You say gently, to serve as a reminder that you were still here with him. You know, of course, that he can’t forget that; he is especially strong with his sensory skills—almost always aware of everything around him without meaning to be.
He turns to you and your breath catches in your throat. He looks utterly defeated and exhausted. His hard, pensive gaze turned in for a much softer one and lips parted slightly. The tension in his forehead usually caused by having his brows knitted together in concentration is gone, and it makes him look much younger.
Tobirama was either always dressed in his armour, or kimonos since they had established the village; it helped maintain an almost royal like status to the clans who joined the founding of Konoha.
But he is just a man—still so young. War often aged people much further along than they really are; something you often forgot.
You find yourself then wishing, if only for just a moment, that you can take it all back. You wish you were easier on Tobirama, and gave him more of the support he needs without question.
But you knew, as Madara once said, Tobirama Senju will always listen to you. Though you would never take credit for the accomplishments he succeeds in, you are aware that you have an influence on decisions he makes from time to time. The two of you are a team, always; even in your stubbornness and anger, you worked together like it was second nature to you both.
Damn him for doing this to you. Damn him all to hell.
“I have lost almost everyone I have ever loved.”
He says it slowly and carefully as though he is not sure if the words will scare you away.
He takes one step closer to you, and stops as though he is unsure of what to do. Words bubble in your throat, but no matter how much you will them from yourself, they do not come out.
“I refuse to lose you, too.”
The words are spoken so quietly, but they ring loud and clear in your mind. The doubling of your heartbeat from earlier now tripled as his voice echoes off the walls of your brain. It’s just like him to confess such a thing behind a wall of pride, but the fact that he said it at all meant that he is serious.
Your balance on the desk gives out, and you quickly slam your hands into it to catch yourself from falling completely. Tobirama steps closer to you, his eyes searching your entire self, up and down. The words are caught on your tongue; a lump forming at the base of your throat prevents you from breathing.
Tobirama’s voice fills the silence. “Putting the seal on you without your knowledge was wrong, I will admit that much.”
He sounds stronger now, more determined than you have ever heard him before.
He takes one more step closer to you. Your knees grow weak.
“But it was the easiest decision I have ever made. I will continue to stand by that decision until my very last breath, even if it means you hate me for it.”
Those words manage to snap her out of her dream like state. Does he think getting rid of you will be so easy? It is just like him to do something like this—damn him. This all could have been avoided if the two of you had just told each other sooner.
You lean forward, slowly raising your hand to the side of his face. You give him ample time and room to inch away from your contact if he wants to, but he does not move. You cradle his cheek in your palm, fingers hooking behind his ear, thumb gingerly brushing against his cheek bone.
It is to your surprise that he leans in to your touch, and closes his eyes. Your heart pulls in your chest.
“I could never hate you, Tobi.” You say softly.
This is the truth; no matter how idiotic he is, the harder he pushes you away, giving you the Hiraishin seal—you could never hate Tobirama Senju.
“I am tethered to you for the rest of my life,” You repeat. In a moment of boldness, you grab one of his hands and slowly drag it to settle on the seal that is placed on the small of your back. You hear his breath catch.
“—By something much stronger than this seal.”
You love him, more than he will ever truly know.
You ghost your lips over his, waiting for the moment he will push you away, but it never comes. His grasp on you only tightens as he pulls you flush against him, capturing your lips in his.
He is soft, at first; gentle with you as he engulfs your body in his arms. The palm you had on his cheek slides down to his neck, lazily clinging to the ends of his hair.
You both pull away, only leaving a breath of space between the two of you. Your eyes meet briefly, before he is on you again, kissing you harder than before, with a certain finality burning through. You only return the kiss with as much passion, scared that Tobirama will be gone the moment you stop.
You pull him closer; he grabs you by your hips with a bruising force, walking you backwards into the desk before lifting you with ease to sit upon the edge of it. He kisses you harder than the other times, rutting himself between your legs.
It is all lips, teeth and tongue with the two of you; low and heady sighs escaping your mouth when he pulls away from you, leaving trails of kisses and bites down the side of your neck. Gasps leave you and you encircle your legs around him, securing him to you. Hands tugging at his hair, causing salacious groans to seep through his tentative mouth.
You say his name sinfully, and before you can register his firm grasp on you, he is lifting you up off the desk, and moving you from the office, to his bed room.
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Coming Home
(photo courtesy of IMDb)
Pairing: Leonard “Bones” McCoy x Reader. Other Characters: Captain Jim Kirk, Sulu, Uhura, Spock, Scotty, Nurse Chapel, Joanna McCoy and Jocelyn McCoy
Word Count: 6594
Warnings: A bit of angst as there usually is with exes, medical incident, topped off with fluff and a little implied smut.
Prompt: “Did you ever plan on telling me?”
Summary: Reader left Dr. McCoy and the Enterprise eight years ago for reasons unknown. Captain Kirk has decided to get her to come back, so he offers her a position in the ship’s Botany Department and Lab. How will her ex-boyfriend and CMO Dr. McCoy react to seeing her after all these years?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Jim, I just don't think it's a good idea," you told him, shaking your head. Captain James T Kirk was in your apartment, trying to convince you to rejoin him on the USS Enterprise.
"Why not? It's been, what, eight years now? Surely he's forgiven you by now," Kirk replied.
"Even if he has, which I doubt, I haven't forgiven me yet. We haven't even spoken since I left. No, I can't come back, Jim. You need things to run smoothly on that ship of yours. I would only upset the applecart," you affirmed.
"Please? You're the best botanist in Starfleet, and we really need you. Sulu can bring you up to speed on all of his latest findings with the plants we've catalogued in the past few years. Besides, there are others who would be happy to see you return to the ship," Kirk pressed.
You bit your bottom lip in concentration. Jim could tell you were close to cracking under his persuasive argument. You missed your 'girl talk' sessions with Uhura, even though monthly subspace messages have kept you in touch. They just haven't been the same as being together in person. If you came back, you might even start a lively discussion with Spock on Vulcan vs. Human philosophy.
If you went back, you know Jim would make your return as smooth as possible. He was right, that others would be happy to see you again. However, there was at least one crew member that you were fairly certain would not share in everyone's enthusiasm at seeing you back on the Enterprise.
Dr. Leonard. McCoy.
The two of you had been in a relationship for about four years prior to your departure. You shared the same quarters, during which time you were blissfully happy and in love. Leonard was the light of your life, and you saw him in every scenario in your future. Marriage, family, retirement from active duty, maybe eventually a house somewhere.
All of that came crashing down the night of his daughter's birthday party, when Joanna was turning 13. Two weeks after it happened and without explanation, you left Leonard and the Enterprise.
You had no intention of ever returning to the ship. You were content in your teaching position at Starfleet HQ and to stay at home, maintaining your garden. That is, until a blonde-haired, blue-eyed captain came knocking on your door, asking you to come back.
"So?" Kirk asked.
"I'll need to pack a few things, make some arrangements," you sighed.
"Ship leaves here in five days, will that be enough time?" Kirk inquired.
"I suppose it'll have to be, won't it. You're not exactly leaving me with much choice," you retorted. "Don't worry, Jim. I'll be there, ready to assist you however I can," you promised. I just don't know if I'm ready to face him again, not after all these years that have gone by, you thought to yourself.
As if he heard you, Jim nudged your arm. "Maybe this is just the opportunity you two need, you know, to clear the air. Much as you may not think so, the two of you belong together," Jim concluded softly.
"I have a feeling that one way or another, the situation between Len and me will soon be resolved," you replied.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
When you re-materialized on the transporter pad, you were surprised to see so many of your friends waiting to welcome you back. Sulu, Chekhov, Scotty, Uhura and even Spock had made the trip down to Transporter Room #3, along with the captain to await your return. The only one absent was Dr. McCoy, but you didn't expect him to show up. Not willingly anyway.
You stepped down from the transporter pad and were immediately engulfed in Uhura's embrace. She rambled on about when the first 'girl talk' night should be while you traded hugs with Sulu and Chekhov.
"Hello, Commander. It is agreeable to see you again," Spock greeted you.
"It's nice to see you, too, Spock," you smiled as you pulled him into a hug before he could stop you. "Mr. Scott, always a delight," you gushed.
"Aye, lassie, it's good to have ye home again," Scotty beamed.
"Thank you. It's good to be--" your greeting was interrupted by the transporter room doors sliding open. The moment of truth had finally arrived, where the next few words spoken would set the tone for the time to come.
"God in Heaven," McCoy whispered. His mouth suddenly went dry at seeing you again after eight years. He could see that the years had been kind to you, because to him, you were even more beautiful than before. His heart did a mini-flip in his chest, but almost immediately afterwards, his brain and his memory re-engaged.
McCoy coughed and cleared his throat in an effort to regain his composure. "Commander," he said gruffly, nodding his head sharply at you. "Jim, a word please?" he asked, then turned and left the transporter room without sparing you a second glance. Tears sprang to your eyes but did not fall.
"Excuse me, everyone," Kirk replied. As he passed by you, he caught your hand and squeezed lightly. "Don't worry, remember what I said about opportunities?" he asked and you nodded. "Don't waste 'em," he said with a wink.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"How could you do this, Jim? How could you allow her back on board after what happened between us? The woman I love broke my heart when she left me--the ship!" McCoy thundered.
"Well, Bones, let's start with the fact that we need someone to head the Botany Department and Lab, and she's the best. Then we'll fill in the middle with how I don't think either one of us knows exactly what happened to make her leave. And we'll end with, oh, because it's my ship, I'm the captain and if I say we need her, then she re-joins the crew," Kirk concluded.
"Fine. If that will be all, Captain?" McCoy replied, voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Yes, Bones, that will be all," Kirk responded. McCoy turned to leave when Kirk briefly called him back. "For what it's worth, you could look at this as an opportunity to clear the air between you. At least you'd know, once and for all why she left, instead of always assuming it's your fault."
McCoy mumbled something under his breath as he walked out of the captain's Ready Room. Kirk shook his head at his CMO's antics when it came to you. He knew the two of you still loved each other, and firmly believed that you belonged together.
Kirk wished he knew what happened all those years ago to make you think your only choice was to leave your family and the man you loved. Something told him that whatever it was, it was bound to come out into the open. Hopefully when it did and the dust settled, everything would return to some semblance of normal.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The first few weeks aboard ship were a bit awkward. You were trying to get used to a working schedule again, and on top of that, trying to avoid the CMO at every turn. It didn't help that you had mutual friends who didn't hesitate to offer their advice on how to resolve things. They all swore they only wanted what was best for you and the good doctor. However, only the two of you could decide what that looked like, and at least for now, that meant avoiding each other.
One day, you were in the lab, cataloguing plant samples gathered during an away mission to Taegus-3. You made sure your team was taking extra safety precautions when handling the samples. "Be careful around these plants, some may have thorns. We also don't know yet if they're poisonous, so for now, use the bio-suits and the thick rubber gloves."
You were walking through Station #2 where a member of your team was performing tests on one of the samples. The young ensign turned away from her station, while you made notes on your clipboard about the plant she was working with.
As you were asking her some questions about her work, you felt something snaking its way around your exposed forearm. By the time you realized what was happening, the plant had started to apply pressure to your now vine-wrapped arm. Sulu heard the commotion and rushed over with a knife, which he then used to cut the vine from your arm. The vine fell away, but left red burn marks in your arm wherever the vine had come into contact with the skin.
"You'd better head down to the MedBay and have someone take a look at that," Sulu advised.
You looked at Sulu like you'd rather have the vine back on your arm, squeezing the life out of it until it snapped off than deal with Dr. McCoy. Eventually you relented and left the lab to get yourself checked out in the MedBay. You only hoped that it was Dr. McCoy's day off, because you didn't think you could deal with him at the moment.
Unfortunately, luck was not to be on your side today. Nurse Chapel called for him as soon as she saw you walk in the door. She had you sit on the biobed and started to check your vital signs. While she was discussing them with Dr. McCoy, a wave of dizziness crashed over you. It was also getting harder to breathe, which was detected by the biobed and it started sending out alarms.
McCoy and Nurse Chapel came racing over to you. "Damn plant must give off some sort of toxin when it wraps around its victims. Hold on, sweetheart, stay with me. We'll get you taken care of, don't you worry," he soothed.
As comforting as his words were, you knew he was in 'doctor mode'. It came naturally to him to use soft terms like 'sweetheart' to put his patients at ease. You knew those words didn't hold any affection towards you anymore like they used to. Whatever feelings may have been implied towards you by his words were likely to be a thing of the past.
"Hold still now, we're going to give you something to counteract the toxin," McCoy explained. He attached a hypospray to your neck and pressed the button to release the medication. Almost immediately, your breathing became easier and the dizziness slowly dissipated. In the meantime, he took the opportunity to bandage the vein-like burns in your forearm.
Once your condition seemed to be stabilized, all you could think of was to get out of the MedBay and back to your quarters. You eased yourself down from the biobed and took a few tentative steps towards the door.
"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute, where do you think you're going?" McCoy demanded.
"Back to my quarters, Dr. McCoy. I thank you and Nurse Chapel for your assistance, but I can take care of myself from here. I hereby relieve you of your obligation to monitor my health any further," you retorted.
"I really don't think that's a good idea, sweetheart," he replied. "You could have a relapse, or develop a complication, or--" he started.
"DON'T. You don't get to call me 'sweetheart', or 'darlin', or anything that would indicate you remotely have any feelings of affection for me anymore," you shot back. Tears began prickling at your eyes, threatening to fall. "Ever since I got here, you've been avoiding me. In the mess hall, the rec area, even the turbolift for goodness' sake," you explained.
"Me?!? As far as I see it, Commander, it's been mutual avoidance. This is as much interaction as I've had with you since the day I saw you in Transporter Room #3. So, don't pin all of this on me," he snapped.
"I'm pretty sure you're not happy that I'm here, so I figured I'd stay out of your way as much as possible. To that end, I'm leaving and going back to my quarters," you informed him calmly.
"Yeah, that's right, I almost forgot. Leaving, that is what you do best, isn't it?" McCoy sneered.
You stopped walking towards the door, overcome by a sob too painful to hold in anymore. After taking a deep breath, you turned your tear-stained face to Dr. McCoy. "I suppose you're right. I've had that coming to me for the last eight years, haven't I?" you asked tearfully. You turned back towards the doors then left the MedBay and headed straight for your quarters.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
After you left, McCoy stood there, with his hands on his hips and shaking his head. He wondered how the situation with you ever got to this point. He remembered how much in love the two of you were, sharing quarters, intertwining lives. For him, you were his whole world, the one he saw his future unfolding with. You loved him despite his flaws and the fact that he constantly thought that he didn't deserve you.
Your mutual friends were rooting for you both, and Joanna loved you as well. The two of you got along well, no hint of jealousy from her when it came to spending time with her father. He remembered how flattered you were when Joanna had once asked for your advice on something.
Jocelyn didn't seem to like you, but then again, she didn't love much of anything to do with him, except Joanna. On more than a few occasions, he'd heard Jocelyn throw snide remarks your way. But as was your nature, you took the high road, and Leonard felt you had handled his ex-wife with grace.
Then came Joanna's birthday party. He'd seen you and Jocelyn talking about something, then when you left her, you looked a little shaken up. McCoy didn't think much of it at the time, but you seemed a little distracted after the encounter. He tried to get you to talk to him about it, however, you assured him that you were tired and just needed some rest to feel better.
Two weeks after the party, without any prior discussion, you had left the Enterprise for a teaching position. Just like that, you were gone from his life, but not remotely gone from his heart. He'd met other women over the past eight years, but none of them could ever hold a candle to you. And deep down, Leonard McCoy knew that no one else ever would.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Back in your quarters, you went straight for the bathroom to splash water on your face as a way to calm down. How dare he! you thought. You had stayed away from him because you thought that's what he wanted. After all it was you who left him. Even though in your mind you knew it was for a good reason, there were still at least two broken hearts at the end of it.
You suddenly remembered what day it was, so you finished drying off your face with a towel. Today was Joanna McCoy's birthday, and she was turning 21, an important milestone. You hoped she was available to take your call, but if not, you would leave a birthday message for her.
Despite no longer being together with her father, you still kept in touch with Joanna over the years. She was a ray of sunshine in Leonard's life, and in yours as well. The last you had heard, she was participating in Starfleet's medical program, thus following in her father's footsteps.
You opened up the comms to send your message request to Joanna. A minute or so later, your video screen lit up with her smiling face and frantic waving at the camera. "Happy Birthday, Joanna!" you grinned.
"Thank you! It's so good to hear from you," she exclaimed.
"I sure wish I could give you a hug for your birthday, sweetie. How's school going for you?" you asked.
She launched into a few tales from her classes, with you nodding and smiling. One of her stories had you busting out in laughter so hard that tears were coming out of your eyes. For the most part, she had achieved the right balance between school and having fun, not an easy task.
"Hey, so Uncle Jim told me you're back on the Enterprise, is that right?" Joanna asked.
"Yes, that's right. Your uncle visited me about six weeks ago and asked me to run the Botany Department and Lab. I wasn't sure about coming back, but he eventually wore me down," you gave a small smile.
"Has he....has Dad seen you? Have you talked to him?" she asked carefully.
You nodded. "I had to go to the MedBay today, due to an unfortunate encounter with a plant from Taegus-3. It wrapped around my arm and wouldn't let go. I had to get a hypo for an allergic reaction, and bandages for my arm. Your dad patched me up just right," you explained.
"Good. Um....I have to ask you something. Do you remember my 13th birthday party?" she inquired.
"Joanna....," you warned.
"Do you remember it?" she tried again. You nodded and she continued. "I know something happened there, because two weeks later, you and Dad weren't together anymore. Why? You two were so happy together, and then you left. What happened?" Joanna demanded.
"Something I can't talk about, Jo, but my leaving was for the best. The best for you and the best for your dad," you replied.
"Best?!? How could it be best for you and Dad to be without each other for this long? Didn't you love him anymore? Was it my mom? Did she say something to you at that party?" Joanna persisted.
At her question, you looked away, and you knew you'd only fueled her curiosity. "Of course I still love him. I told you Joanna, I can't talk about it. Please don't push me on this. Listen, sweetie, I have to go now, but I wanted to wish you a happy birthday. Take care, honey," you said.
"But---" was the last you'd heard of her voice before you terminated the connection. In the reflection of the view screen, you could see tears sliding down your face. You decided that you needed a drink, so you left your quarters and headed for the recreation area.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Well, well, well, who do we have here?" Captain Kirk said as he saw you sitting at the bar.
You groaned at his presence, only wanting to be left alone. "Oh, god, Jim. What are YOU doing here?" you retorted.
"I heard you got hurt and went to MedBay today. Then I went by your quarters to check on you, only to find out you're not there. Figured I'd get a drink, and here you are," he replied.
"Jim, don't take this pershonally," you slurred. "But I want to be left alone. M'kay? Been a rotten day and I'm jusht done," you remarked as you drained your glass and signaled for a refill.
"What happened today?" he persisted.
"You think that just because you have that perfect hair and those bright blue eyes that I'm just gonna spill my guts?" you asked. A smirk crossed his face as he waited expectantly. "Fine. I'll tell you, you insufferable man. I called Joanna McCoy today, since it's her 21st birthday," you started.
"Thanks for the reminder, I'll have to call her later," Kirk interjected.
"Anyway, the topic of conversation got around to her 13th birthday party. She asked me why her dad and I aren't together anymore," you explained, tears threatening again.
"What did you tell her?" Kirk asked.
"I told her the same thing I'm going to tell you. I can't talk about it, but I did what I thought was best for her and for Leonard," you replied. "Now, drop it, Jim," you warned.
"Sorry, no can do. Bones and I both saw Jocelyn talking to you at the party, then the rest of the night you seemed a little upset. Don't get me wrong, you put on a brave face. You fooled most everyone, but Leonard and I knew that something wasn't right. Look, it's been eight years. Don't you think it's time to spill the beans?" Kirk wondered.
"Jim, no good can come from this. Best just to let sleeping dogs lie," you said as you tried again to shut him down.
"Please, let me in. I can see how much this is hurting you, and I think Len finally deserves to know the truth. Don't you think so?" Kirk pleaded.
A few tears had slipped down your face, and you nodded, your resolve having broken at last. "It started when I was in the kitchen putting candles on Joanna's cake. I thought I would do that to make myself useful, help Jocelyn so it was one less thing she had to worry about. Wrong move, because she read me the riot act about how it's her job to do that and I should just back off," you said.
"Ungrateful b....please go on," he prompted.
"I apologized, but she refused to accept it. Instead, she gave me an ultimatum. I had to stop seeing Leonard or she would refuse to let him see Joanna. At first, I couldn't believe she was serious, but one look in her eyes and I knew she was. That's why I was so distant the rest of the night. I tried to put Leonard off by saying I was just tired, but I don't think he was convinced," you remarked.
"Why didn't you tell Len? Or me? We would've found a way to fight this," Kirk insisted.
"I know you would have, and I love you both for it. She said if I told anyone, her next stop was the courthouse. Don't you see? She held all the cards, and I had nothing," you explained.
"You didn't have 'nothing', you had Len and me," Kirk replied.
"Think about it. If I fought her, then she took Len to court and he lost, it's my fault. If I refused to stop seeing Leonard, she would not let him see his daughter. My fault again. Either way, Jim, Leonard and Joanna lose. I couldn't bear for that to happen, so I left. As much as I loved him, and still do, his relationship with his daughter is and always will be more important," you finished. Tears were now streaming unchecked down your face.
"Whoa. I knew she was a piece of work, but I didn't know exactly how much. Bones would be livid if he found out that Jocelyn is the reason you're not together," Kirk replied.
"And that's exactly why I didn't want to tell you. Jim, please, I'm begging you. Let this go," you implored as you slid off your barstool. Jim turned to you and pulled you into his comforting embrace. "I'm going to go sleep this off, okay? I'll be taking a sick day tomorrow," you added. "Goodnight, Jim."
"Goodnight," he called after you then returned his attention to his drink.
"Poor kid. Hate to see a pretty girl cry. So, knowing you, I'd bet that you have no intention of letting this go, do you, Captain?" Tony, the bartender, asked.
"Nope," he replied, downing the rest of his drink. "I gotta find a way to make this right if it's the last thing I do. Thanks, Tony," he said before leaving to go to his quarters. Once there, he opened a comms channel to send a message to his niece. The video screen popped up with Joanna's picture.
"Uncle Jim!! So great to see you," she gushed.
"Happy Birthday, honey. Listen, I know about a conversation you had earlier, that involved a certain someone and your dad," Kirk remarked. "I finally got her to tell me what happened at your birthday party."
"She told me she couldn't tell me, but she could tell you?" Joanna asked angrily.
"Hold on there, sweetie. In her defense, she'd had a lot to drink by the time I caught up with her," Kirk explained.
"Oh. Well, I asked Mom about it, but she wouldn't tell me either. Please tell me what happened, I want to know," Joanna begged.
"Sure thing, kiddo. Then we're going to brainstorm on how to get the two of them back together," Kirk winked.
"Ooh yay! So, tell me," she persisted.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Dr. McCoy trudged into his quarters and sat down on the couch. He grabbed a communication tablet and sent a signal to his daughter, to wish her a happy birthday. Unfortunately, Jocelyn picked up the tablet and answered.
"Joanna's busy right now, Leonard. Call her back later," Jocelyn replied curtly as she moved to disconnect the call.
"Wait, Jocelyn! Will you please let her know that I called to wish her a happy birthday?" McCoy asked.
"Your girlfriend already called earlier and spoke to Joanna. I just assumed you were in the room at the time," Jocelyn remarked.
"What girlfriend? I don't know what you're talking about," McCoy replied. He was starting to get an uneasy feeling the more he talked to his ex-wife.
Jocelyn made a tsking sound of disgust. "The same one that was here on Joanna's 13th--" she broke off and a smug smile crossed her face. "Never mind. I guess she took my advice then."
McCoy's face drained of color. "And just what advice was that? It's been eight years, Jocelyn, you'll have to refresh my memory," he retorted.
"What difference does it make? She must not have been as devoted to you as you were to her. She left you, therefore, you got to keep seeing your daughter," Jocelyn shot back.
The pieces started to come together in McCoy's mind, and it was showing him a pretty ugly picture. "You threatened her. Didn't you?" he seethed. "Why, Jocelyn? What has she ever done to you?" he demanded.
"Joanna called her 'Mom', that's what!" Jocelyn exclaimed. "When Joanna came home from that week-long vacation with the two of you, she was telling me about how much fun she'd had. She slipped and referred to your girlfriend as 'Mom'. I am her mother! I will not be replaced by some flavor-of-the-month!" she shrieked.
"ENOUGH, MOM!" Joanna's voice came through clearly. "Hi, Dad," she greeted McCoy.
"Hiya, pumpkin," he drawled. "Happy Birthday, sweetheart," he replied softly. "Did you know about this?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at his daughter.
"Dad, nobody knew anything about it until she told Uncle Jim tonight. And he said that it was only after a lot of alcohol that she would even tell him. She's kept this horrible secret for all this time, because she wanted you to be happy and able to keep visiting me. She still loves you, Dad, I know she does. Please tell me you still love her," Joanna pleaded.
McCoy turned his face away from the view screen, but not before his daughter caught a glimpse of his watery eyes. "I never stopped loving her, Jo. Not even when she left. I was angry and hurt, but....yes, I still love her," he declared, his voice thick with emotion.
"Then you know what you have to do, Daddy. Go tell her," Joanna whispered the last part. "Consider it my birthday present," she grinned mischievously. "I love you."
"You got it, sweetheart. I'll let you know how it goes. Later, though," McCoy promised with a grin of his own. "I love you," he told her before the call disconnected.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The view screen clicked off, while McCoy digested all of the information he'd just been given. All these years, he mused. The two of you could've been happy together, maybe even engaged or married. Instead, his ex-wife and her jealousy got in the way of that with her threats of denying him visitation rights.
He'd been so wrapped up in his own emotions since you've been back, that he hadn't stopped to consider how you may be feeling. He had been convinced that the reason you left was because you didn't love him anymore. Now he knew that the exact opposite was true. You loved him so much that you sacrificed your own happiness with him so he could continue to see his daughter.
Leonard knew that he had to make things right between you. It couldn't have been easy to come back to work on the Enterprise, knowing at any moment you could run into each other. But, you pushed those feelings and worries aside to help Jim by running the Botany Department and Lab.
He had to admit, it's been awkward since you've been back. He didn't expect the old feelings of love to come rushing back at the first sight of you that day in Transporter Room #3. As much as your leaving had hurt him and the radio silence throughout the years, he still loved you. And now, he grinned to himself, it was time to do something about it.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
You left the rec area and had gone back to your quarters for the night. When you got back, you changed out of your uniform and put on your pink plaid pajama pants and an oversized T-shirt. You made sure it was short-sleeved because of the bandages on your arm from the Strangling Vine Incident earlier in the day. After grabbing a glass of water and two pain meds, you settled into place on the couch. "Computer, illumination at 30% please," you requested.
What a day. First you were attacked by an alien vine, forcing you to get checked out in the MedBay by your ex-boyfriend and CMO. Later, you couldn't even find peace in the rec area. The CMO's best friend and captain of the ship kept hounding you about something that took place eight years ago. You'd told him to drop it, but he refused until you spilled that horrible secret.
Now Jim knows, but knowing about it didn't change anything. No matter how much you still loved him, Leonard surely didn't love you anymore. He'd made that quite clear today with his parting remark as you left the MedBay. You continued to sip at your water, each tilt of the glass with a shakier hand than before.
Off in the distance you heard your door chime, indicating someone at your door. "Come in," you called. You were shocked to see Dr. McCoy walk in. "Excuse me for asking, Doctor, but what the hell are you doing here?" you demanded, arms crossed over your chest.
His eyes locked with yours and you almost gave in to the softness you thought you saw, but you stood your ground. He cleared his throat before speaking. "I'm here to check your bandages. You left the MedBay so quickly, I wanted to make sure that the wound was still covered," he explained.
You rolled your eyes. "Really, Doctor? Is that the best excuse you could come up with? You didn't even bring your medkit, and I really don't have time for this. Goodnight, Dr. McCoy," you retorted.
"Now wait just a minute. As Chief Medical Officer, I am responsible for the health and safety of all crew members. I can see right now that you look a little flushed, which could mean a fever and possibly an infection. Just a quick exam. It'll be painless, I promise," he pleaded, his hands raised.
You arched an eyebrow in skepticism but finally relented. "Fine. A quick exam, then I'm going to bed and you can see yourself out," you muttered.
He stood in front of you, first looking at the bandaged arm, then sliding his hands up your arms to rest on your shoulders. He peered into your eyes and could see how bloodshot they were, probably from the tears you'd been shedding lately. He checked the lymph nodes on your neck to see if they were swollen, but they were fine.
He patted down his uniform, checking his pockets. "Hmm. I don't have a tricorder with me, so I'll have to check your temp the old fashioned way," he remarked. Before you could utter a word, his lips meshed with your forehead.
The second his soft lips touched your skin, something inside you fluttered. You closed your eyes and gave a sigh of contentment before you could stop yourself. "Doctor....," you whispered.
"Shh. Still checkin' your temp, darlin'. And it's Leonard, by the way. You used to call me that, remember?" he murmured against your skin.
Your eyes flew open and you stepped back. "Wait a minute. Why are you really here?" you asked.
"I already told you, to check your bandages. Besides, I want to apologize for what happened earlier in the MedBay, as you were walking out. I shouldn't have said that," McCoy started.
You backed further away from him as the realization sunk in. "Oh no, no, no, you've been talking to Jim, haven't you?" you replied. "I told him to drop it, that no good can come from dredging up something that happened eight years ago. Dammit, does that man ever listen?" you ranted, pacing the floor.
"Hold on there for a minute, sweetheart. I didn't talk to Jim, I called Joanna to wish her a happy birthday. Jocelyn picked up because Joanna was busy. Jocelyn was the one who admitted what happened, not Jim," McCoy explained.
"Leonard, I'm so sorry about what happened all those years ago. I truly thought I was doing the right thing by leaving. But all I've done is cause tremendous heartache for the people I love," you admitted, breaking down into tears yet again.
McCoy walked over and put his arms around you, holding you close to his chest. His hand came up and stroked the back of your head. "Shh, it’s okay, darlin'. I just wish I had known about it then. You never should've had to shoulder that burden all by yourself. Did you ever plan on telling me?" he asked.
You leaned back just far enough to lock eyes with him. "I couldn't, Len. Jocelyn said if I did, she would take you to court and fix it so you couldn't see Joanna at all. I know that custody hearings can go either way, and there's no way I could take the chance that you might lose. So I thought my only option was to step aside. I'd rather have you hate me but keep visitation rights for your daughter, than to love me and not have her," you said as you broke down again.
"Oh, Sugar, I could never hate you," he replied softly, brushing your cheek with the back of his hand. "When I found out that you left, I was so angry and hurt. Mostly because you'd made a decision alone that affected both of us. But when you came back and I saw you on that transporter pad all those weeks ago, I thought I had a second chance. Probably screwed that up too, though, haven't I?" he chuckled and so did you.
"Nah. You haven't done anything of the sort. I have missed you so much. After enough time had gone by, I thought about reaching out to you. Then I figured that too much time had gone by and you'd be with someone else. Which would've been fine, as long as you were happy, that's all that would matter to me," you remarked.
"Well, I haven't exactly been living like a monk, you know. I've met other women over the years, but none of them compared to you and no one ever will, either. Which is good, because I don't want any pale imitations or substitutions. I only want the real thing," he admitted just before crashing his lips into yours.
You felt the depth of his emotion poured into that first kiss and returned it with equal fervor. The apologies, the regrets, the longing for each other you still had after all these years. And the love you'd been keeping hidden from each other but never fully let show until now.
"Oh, my love," you whispered. "I've missed you so much, Leonard," you replied hoarsely.
"I've missed you too. I love you so much, Sugar. Can we please agree to not ever be separated like that again? I don't think my heart can take another minute without you," he remarked.
"Mine either. No more separations like that, because with you is where I belong. I love you, Len," you declared. You ran your hands up his arms and cradled his neck between them. Your fingers slid through his jet-black hair, smirking as you teased the short hairs at the base of his collar.
"Oh, there's my naughty girl, I wondered where she'd gone," McCoy growled playfully as he tightened his embrace.
"She's been right here, all along. Just waiting for the right time to come home," you replied softly, then tugged him closer for another kiss.
This kiss was different than before. This one was slow, sensuous and held the promise of a new beginning. As your mouths moved against each other, there was just enough of an opening between you for Leonard's tongue to slip through. He took full advantage of the opportunity, and when your tongues met, a moan of pleasure escaped from you.
Leonard's hands roamed up and down your back as he nudged his way to your neck. "Darlin', you're so beautiful," he murmured against your skin. He left a few open-mouthed kisses on your collarbone, nipping as he went and ultimately leaving his mark on you for all to see.
Layers of clothing were shed one by one. Little by little, Leonard nudged you backwards until the back of your knees hit the bed. You climbed up onto the mattress, crawling until you reached the middle where he soon joined you and leaned down to kiss you.
His hands and mouth took their time in worshiping every inch of your exposed skin, as if re-committing it to memory. Your mouth and hands were doing the same, reacquainting yourself with every muscle, every detail of his exquisite bare body.
The silence of your room was punctuated with breathy words of affection and moans of ecstasy from the two of you. Layers of passion were built higher and higher as you both chased your release. Finally, you both tumbled over the edge, one after the other, each whispering declarations of love.
Later, after you both got cleaned up, Leonard came back to bed and settled under the covers with you. He wrapped his arm around you so that your head rested on his chest. You could hear his steady heartbeat, which brought out a sigh of contentment from you.
"Len?" you whispered. He hummed in response, drawing random patterns on your shoulder. "Is this okay? I mean, what just happened, I don't want this to be a one-time thing. I'd like us to try again. I-If that's what you want," you hastily added.
He shifted so that he was propped up on his side, looking down at you. His hand cupped your face, while his thumb caressed your cheek. "Sweetheart, I've wanted that ever since you set foot back on this ship. I may be a little late in sayin' so, but I never stopped lovin' you. If you'll have me, I would love to try being us again," he replied softly.
"I would love that very much," you answered. "I love you, Leonard."
"I love you too, darlin'. Welcome home," he whispered, pulling you in for a long, slow kiss.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Tags: @marvelouslytrekking @spacedancer1701 @anna-phora
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Behind Closed Doors
Summary: The light sides are still learning how to help Virgil recover, and Virgil is still learning how to ask for what he needs.
TWs: past abuse, blood and violence mention, past manipulation, yelling, arguments, misunderstandings
Notes: This chapter literally would not exist without @self-taught-mess they’re amazing I love them - sympathetic light and dark sides, taglist at the end
Masterpost
It wasn’t like he’d never had any privacy before.
Virgil had spent most of his life alone, and as much as he’d hated it, the isolation had been preferable to the beatings.
Everybody had wanted as little to do with him as possible, and he’d understood perfectly. The only time any of the Others would enter his room was when they were furious, throwing open his door without warning, slamming it against the wall so loud it sent Virgil’s anxiety skyrocketing before a hand was even put on him.
Now...just like with so many other things, the rules around his privacy were proving to be different.
The light sides actually came to see him. He spent less time cooped up in his room now that he was gradually starting to feel welcome, slowly learning not to be so terrified to just walk into a room.
If he tripped or stumbled, if the floor creaked under his weight or if he talked just a little too long...they wouldn’t hurt him. They’d promised they wouldn’t, swore to him no one ever would again, and Virgil was beginning to trust them. Slowly. It was still...hard to believe that things could actually be this nice for him.
And when he was in his room, safe and closed off, he quickly realized how much...calmer it was when people came to see him. Virgil was always hyper aware of movement outside his door, of footsteps in the hallway coming closer, of someone angry storming towards his room. He was still working on memorizing each of the light side’s footsteps, but it soon proved unnecessary.
They seemed to understand he liked his space, but when they did come to find him in his room, Patton and Logan always knocked. Other than the few times Deceit had needed to speak to him, no one had bothered to do that before.
Then again, before the light sides no one had come into his room with any intention other than to punish him. There was no need for knocking when he was in trouble anyway.
Patton’s knocking was slow and gentle, and the moral side would always call out to make sure Virgil was alright with company before opening the door.
Logan’s knocks were quick and curt, but there was no aggression or impatience to the sound, and he always waited until Virgil said it was ok to come in.
Roman had been careful to give Virgil his space when he was up in his room, but the two of them had gotten closer in the recent weeks, and there had been a few times Roman would come to him for help with an idea or an invitation to movie night.
It didn’t take Virgil long to realize that Roman...didn’t knock.
Which shouldn’t be a big deal. At all. Of course Roman didn’t knock- he was Roman. He was grand and dramatic and he liked to make an entrance, barging into rooms with dazzling smiles and powerful words.
And of course it didn’t matter to anyone else, because no one was pathetic enough to dwell on meaningless things like that. God- this was why people wanted to hurt Virgil. He was annoying and panicked over stupid little things like the way someone entered a room.
Nobody had ever knocked on his door before. So Roman not knocking shouldn’t be fazing him in the slightest.
Except...except before, whenever someone would enter his room without warning, it meant they were angry enough that the beating couldn’t wait until Virgil came downstairs.
He knew Roman wouldn’t hurt him- he knew that. Roman had been the first one to promise him safety, to hold him and tell him he didn’t deserve that, to swear to protect him as vigilantly as Virgil protected everyone else.
But every time Roman would barge into his room, footsteps thundering in the hallway just seconds before the door flew open, Virgil had a hard time remembering that.
The sickening panic would return each time, defenses raising automatically, Virgil hunching his shoulders and tensing, waiting for screams and punches that of course didn't come.
He always missed the first few things Roman said, busy fighting to calm himself down before the Prince could notice his distress.
Because how pathetic would that be, if they found out a door opening was enough to make him want to throw up? Each time he had to fight to keep himself from scrambling under his bed in a desperate attempt to hide from a punishment that wasn’t going to come.
So he stayed silent. They already had to be ridiculously careful around him, he didn’t want to risk pushing his luck by asking for something else.
He should have known that plan was bound to go wrong. Most things in his life always seemed to.
Virgil was already tense and on edge from a particularly bad nightmare, hiding out in his room all morning, still too anxious to go to anyone for help despite them assuring him it was alright if he needed it.
So when Roman burst into his room, calling his name with his usual extravagance, it was of little surprise to Virgil that he snapped before he could stop himself.
“Jesus Christ, will you just knock?”
Roman froze, smile dropping slightly as he furrowed his brow at Virgil. “Well excuse me, Doom and Gloom. You wouldn’t hear it anyway if you have your headphones in.”
“Yes I would,” Virgil argued. Unless he needed the noise to drown out rising panic, he always kept his music quiet enough to hear movement outside his door. “But still, it doesn’t mean you can just barge in like you own the place. What if- what if I’m changing or something?”
Roman scoffed, and Virgil suddenly felt small and cornered. “Oh, please. You mean the two seconds it takes to snap our fingers to switch clothes? Wanna try another excuse, Stormcloud?”
Even the familiar nickname, usually gentle and endearing, felt cold and patronizing now. Roman smirked and crossed his arms, and Virgil knew the Prince was just teasing him. He’d been a dick, and Roman was responding with their usual banter.
Virgil swallowed, frantically trying to come up with an excuse. ‘I blindly panic every time my door opens because I think you’re going to beat me’ would just make things awkward, and Roman would probably laugh and call him ridiculous. Or get angry. “Well...what if…”
He trailed off as Roman raised a cocky eyebrow. “Yes?”
“Well maybe I just don’t want you in my room, Princey!”
He shouldn’t be getting defensive, he shouldn’t be lashing out to combat the sudden panic in his chest. He should just tell Roman he wasn’t in the mood- tired from another round of nightmares- and if the Prince didn’t leave right now, things would only escalate.
“Oh, please,” Roman scoffed. “Of course you do. You need something to lighten the mood in here. Were you planning on sitting in the dark all day?”
He had- at least until the tension in his muscles had seeped away, the nightmare becoming nothing more than a faded memory, and he could function like a human being again. He really, really was not up for company, and he would have said as much if Roman had just knocked.
“Maybe,” Virgil snapped. “I didn’t realize that was a problem.”
He tried not to think about how if he’d ever dared to speak this way to one of the Others, he’d have already been a bloody mess on the floor.
“It’s not a problem,” Roman replied instantly, his voice a bit too sharp for Virgil’s liking. He won’t hurt him, he would never hurt him. He had to keep repeating the mantra in his head.
Roman continued with a quick flip of his wrist, moving his hair from his face in usual dramatic fashion. It really shouldn’t have put Virgil so on edge. “I just can’t understand why you always hermit away in here. I’m just coming in here to say hello, and personally I think you should be honored that I actually want to step foot in here at all.”
Did Roman sound angry? No. No, he...he was just annoyed. Irritated and judgy, maybe, but not angry.
So there was no reason Virgil should be curling up just a bit tighter to try and hide how bad he was shaking. He really needed Roman to leave before he noticed.
“Yeah, okay, well maybe not everyone thinks the way you do, Princey,” he snapped back, voice just as sharp as Roman’s had been, if not more so. “Maybe if people wanted you in their rooms they’d invite you.”
Roman scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous, Knight in Shaking Armor. If we waited for an invitation we’d never see you.”
Ok, ouch. It wasn’t Virgil’s fault he’d spent his entire life thinking that everyone would try to hurt him if he stepped out of his room. (Yes it was. It was his fault, he was the one stupid enough to believe it.)
“What’s your deal?” Virgil demanded, ignoring the dark, terrified thoughts telling him to just shut up before he got hit. “Jesus, I just asked you to knock! I didn’t realize you had such a problem with privacy, Princey.”
“Well maybe I’d respect your privacy if you weren’t being such a jerk about it!”
Virgil reared back like he’d been struck, stomach dropping as his heart began to pound. He knew he was pushing Roman unfairly but he hadn’t thought...he’d just kind of hoped the light sides would be more gracious about this sort of thing.
A naive part of him had hoped they hadn’t had rules like that at all.
Virgil was still the embodiment of anxiety, still wired to respond solely with fight or flight. He was already in his room, practically cornered, which meant there was nowhere else to flee for safety.
Fight took over Virgil’s instincts. He could feel adrenaline start up through his veins as he moved to the edge of the bed and sat up straighter, glaring at the Prince still in his doorway.
“Roman, I swear to god it’s not that difficult to knock on a freaking door. I do it before bursting into your room, but you can’t return the favor?” Virgil gripped his bed sheets to hide how bad his hands were shaking. He suddenly couldn’t convince himself he wasn’t in danger.
“Seriously, I thought you were supposed to be a Prince.” Virgil’s own voice was reminding him of the growl of a frightened animal, guarded and too aggressive for this to still be considered friendly banter.
“Oh, forgive me for not obeying your every command, Virgil. I came in here to be nice. I didn’t expect to be shouted at the moment I stepped inside! You’re being utterly uncouth!”
“Uncouth?” he echoed. “Roman will you stop being a child and just get out of my room?”
Roman rolled his eyes but at least took a step back out into the hall, not bothering to close the door as he went. “Fine. I’ll just go tell Logan and Patton how ridiculous you’re being.”
And then he was gone, storming down the hallway with an undeniable air of anger and frustration, and Virgil was left completely frozen on his bed with the dawning realization of what he’d just done.
Maybe...maybe he was overreacting. Maybe he didn’t have to panic yet. They’d stopped themselves from hurting him, even weeks after their promise, so maybe they didn’t have any plans to use nonviolent punishment either.
He...he knew better than to really believe that. But maybe if he hurried, if he explained himself, they would understand and give him another chance. Because for the first time, he had people who actually accounted for his feelings before making a decision.
Looking back on the way he’d just treated Roman, he didn’t understand why they didn’t just grab him by the hood and slam him against the wall until he couldn’t see straight.
He scrambled off his bed, squeezing his eyes shut and taking a moment to breathe, to will himself to stop trembling. Nobody was screaming for him, nobody was marching up the stairs to tell him of his punishment yet. He still had time to fix things.
Roman’s remark about earning privacy was still ringing in his ears, an unfortunately familiar warning, and Virgil knew all too well what that would entail. But maybe he’d take it back if Virgil just swallowed his pride and apologized.
He made his way down the hall, silently hoping he could make it downstairs before everyone decided it was best to go back to treating him like the villain.
Those hopes quickly vanished when he made it to the bottom of the stairs and was immediately met with three pairs of eyes, all with varying levels of confusion and annoyance.
“Oh, look who it is,” Roman announced and Virgil flinched, gripping the railing like a lifeline. “Patton, will you tell our local hermit to please control himself?”
“Kiddo,” Patton warned, but quickly turned his gaze back on Virgil, frowning slightly. “Logan and I could hear you two yelling from down here. What’s going on?”
Virgil shrugged, suddenly intensely focused on his feet. “Nothing.”
“He wanted me to knock,” Roman explained with a huff. “Which of course I would have done, if he had asked politely.”
Logan raised a curious eyebrow, briefly glancing between the two. “Virgil, if there are boundaries you would like us to be aware of, you only need to say. There is no reason for a request like that to turn into an argument.”
“Yeah,” Virgil muttered, fighting against the urge to flee. “I know.”
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Roman cross his arms, and he had to remind himself over and over again that no one was going to strike him. Even if they should. “Then why are you so worked up about it?”
And Virgil had fully intended on explaining, on getting across to Roman that he knew it was stupid and selfish but when his door opened without warning it was impossible to see through his panic, to convince himself he wasn’t about to be left bleeding on his floor for the next few hours.
But now, with everyone staring at him expectantly, cheeks burning red under the attention, he...he couldn’t. “I’m...I’m just tired.”
Roman laughed, short and void entirely of any humor. “He was tired. Well that excuses everything, doesn’t it?”
Patton was watching Virgil with something much too close to pity. “Kiddos--”
“You used to lock yourself up in your room all the time,” Roman complained, and Virgil felt that same spike of defensive anger. Because that hadn’t been his fault. Wasn’t that what they’d been trying to teach him to accept? “We just don’t want that to happen anymore!”
Virgil tensed, holding the railing so tight his knuckles turned white. He...he hadn’t been trying to isolate himself again. Being welcomed and openly tolerated for the first time was one of the best feelings in the world. He wouldn’t trade his newfound family for anything.
“Just...why are we even still talking about this? Why are you two involved?”
He risked a glance up, wincing at the cold glare Roman was giving him, and the obvious confusion from Patton and Logan.
“Because anger is not an effective way to communicate,” Logan said. “I understand that it is what you are used to, but it needs to be--”
“Don’t say that to me,” Virgil snapped because- because no. No. He wasn’t doing that. He was not acting like the Others. He wasn’t like them. “Don’t ever say that to me, Logan.”
Logan tilted his head, clearly a bit irked at the interruption. “Apologies, Virgil. But am I...incorrect?”
“Yes! N-no...I- I don’t--”
“Alright,” Patton mercifully interrupted, but his patience sounded forced. Virgil briefly wondered which one of them would lose their temper and advance on him first. “I think we all need to settle down.”
Roman waved a hand at the stairs, and Virgil was glad no one was looking to see him flinch.
“But it’s his fault,” the Prince argued. “He got mad first! For no reason!”
“I just-” Virgil groaned, running a shaky hand through his hair. “Look, just knock. It’s not hard.”
Roman whirled back around to face him, eyes brimming with exasperation and anger. “But it doesn’t matter!”
“Yes it does!”
“Why?”
Virgil opened his mouth to answer, but the words got caught in his throat. God, he was shaking so bad. Why couldn’t he just shut up and let them do whatever they wanted? They already put up with so much.
The amount of pain he should have received as punishment for this conversation alone-
He couldn’t think like that. He couldn’t let himself panic. It wasn’t like that anymore.
“Look, it’s...it- it’s not…” He found himself glancing at Logan, who always seemed to somehow know what Virgil needed, but the logical side just raised an expectant eyebrow. Virgil groaned, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “You- why are you being such an ass about this?”
“Me?” Roman demanded, and if he noticed Virgil flinch back at the sudden rise in volume he didn’t say anything. “You’re the one getting worked up over something useless! I’m not going to adhere to your every wish, Virgil! Why does it matter?”
“Because maybe I’m convinced everyone who comes into my room wants to kill me, Roman!”
The outburst was met with silence, unreadable expressions on the other side’s faces. Roman opened his mouth to respond but Virgil wasn’t done. Anger had reared its head like an ugly beast, taking control in one last desperate defense.
“Maybe if you all bothered to tell me otherwise sooner, I wouldn’t be such a- a hermit or whatever. I didn’t know it was such a problem- you never bothered to talk to me until I was useful, anyway!”
That wasn’t fair, he knew that wasn’t fair. That hadn’t been their fault. He’d been horrible, a villain they all hated. It was his fault. It always was.
The living room was silent now, all eyes on him, and Virgil fought the urge to pull up his hood and risked a cautious glance at Roman, who no longer looked quite so angry. Shocked, definitely, but not necessarily mad.
Which was weird. Virgil was almost positive that if he’d taken that kind of tone with any of the Others, he probably wouldn’t be able to walk ever again.
Logan cleared his throat and took a step forward, and Virgil instinctively flinched back with his arms raised to shield his face.
“Virgil--”
“Whatever,” he practically growled, and dammit his voice was shaking too much for them not to notice. “Just- forget it, guys.”
And before anyone could call him back he stormed up the stairs, shoulders hunched and hands stuffed in his hoodie. He was still fuming, shaky and unfocused, and he channeled the rest of his anger into grabbing the handle and slamming the door to his bedroom as hard as he possibly could.
It was hard enough to make the walls quiver, the sound like a gunshot ringing through the halls of the mindscape, and it made him feel better for about two seconds before he realized what he’d just done.
Oh god. Oh god they were going to kill him.
He’d started a pointless argument because he was too pathetic to get over something simple, and then he’d stood there and yelled at everyone like they had done something wrong.
They weren’t going to hit him. They’d promised, and they’d proven over and over again that they didn’t intend on breaking that promise, no matter how horrible he was.
And he’d certainly shown them just how horrible he could be today, hadn’t he? Maybe now they would finally understand why he’d been put through all those punishments for so long. It was so much easier to deal with him when he was in pain.
The argument could be worked through. Maybe. But then he’d slammed his door and...and he knew what the punishment was for that. Roman had confirmed it himself.
Virgil understood that. His room was a safe space, somewhere to stay when things got too overwhelming to manage, and for the most part the other sides understood that.
So taking privacy away entirely was the most effective punishment they had access to since violence had already been taken off the table.
It was preferable to the beatings, obviously, but it still made sickening panic coil in his gut at the thought of it. At least they seemed to be giving him some time to cool down before his punishment, the hallway outside completely silent.
God, he was an idiot. He was so stupid. Why couldn’t he do one thing right? Why couldn’t he just be grateful for what he had and not ruin everything for once in his stupid life?
He squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to cry over his own mistake. That had always just gotten him in more trouble.
Virgil pulled up his hood, breaths still short and shaking as he crawled back into bed where he’d already spent a majority of the day. Maybe the longer he stayed cooped up in here, the longer he could avoid the repercussions.
It was unlikely. Punishments were never on his terms.
He kept his eyes firmly shut, wrapping his blanket around him and burying his face in the pillow in a desperate attempt at letting everything fade for the time being. He was exhausted, both from the nightmares and the fight, and all he wanted to do was fall asleep and never wake back up.
-
He didn’t get his wish, unfortunately, but it was clear he’d at least managed to doze off for a couple hours, his room much darker than it had been before he’d shut his eyes, faint sunlight no longer shining through his curtains.
At first he wasn’t sure what had woken him, everything still and silent, but then he heard the quiet knocking at his door again followed by a gentle voice.
“Kiddo?” Patton called from the other side. “Can I come in?”
Virgil groaned, still groggy and disoriented, wondering why Patton was still bothering to knock. He knew better than to push his luck by turning him away, taking a steadying breath before calling back. “Yeah. Come in, Pat.”
Virgil pushed himself up into a sitting position, pulling his knees up to his chest as Patton slowly pushed open the door, hesitating in the entrance.
“Hey,” he said softly, and Virgil wasn’t sure if he was supposed to answer or not. “Did I wake you?”
Virgil shrugged, eyes on his rumpled blankets. “It’s ok.”
Patton continued to hesitate in the doorway, and Virgil scrambled to figure out why the moral side was still being so courteous. Was it some kind of trick? Was he trying to figure out how to best explain what the punishment would entail?
“You up for talking, kiddo?” Patton asked, and Virgil knew better than to think he actually had a choice. “It can wait if you need some more alone time.”
Virgil shook his head, heart beating frantically in his chest as he willed himself to stop trembling. The weaker he looked, the worse it always was. He cautiously raised his head to glance at Patton, a silent invitation.
The moral side took a step forward before pausing again, hand hovering over the doorknob. “Do you want the door open or closed?”
Virgil blinked, glancing between Patton and the hallway behind him. He didn’t...look angry, but the idea of having an accessible escape route set him at ease just a little.
He couldn’t meet his gaze, fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie. “Can you leave it open?”
“Of course.”
Virgil watched with tense shoulders as Patton, true to his word, left the bedroom door open and carefully made his way over to the bed where the anxious side was miserably hunched over and waiting.
“Kiddo--”
“I’m sorry,” Virgil said, cringing when he realized he’d interrupted. “I- I’m sorry for- for fighting with Roman and- and for yelling and...and for saying those things about you guys. That wasn’t- that wasn’t your fault. I- I should have tried harder but I was stupid, and I just didn’t--”
“Slow down, Virgil,” Patton said softly, and Virgil instantly fell silent. “You’re not stupid. And we know you didn’t mean what you said.”
Patton had slowly lowered himself down on the bed, keeping a few inches between them. He reached forward, slowly, and Virgil flinched back before he could stop himself, eyes going wide.
Patton quickly pulled his hand back. “I’m not gonna hurt you, baby. It’s ok.”
Virgil looked down at his lap, squeezing trembling hands into fists. He was hard enough to deal with normally, but he’d been awful today. He couldn’t imagine how much Patton was regretting his decision right now.
“You...you can if you want,” Virgil said quietly. “I won’t- I won’t say anything.”
Patton made a choked sound, eyes wide in disbelief. Virgil wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong this time, but he’d made him upset and all his defenses were suddenly up.
“Sorry!” he said quickly. “S-sorry, I was just trying to--”
“No, it’s alright,” Patton said, and Virgil jumped at the feeling of warm hands suddenly covering his own. “But I don’t want to hit you, sweetheart. I will never want that.”
Virgil’s head was starting to hurt, spinning in the way it usually did whenever they had discussions like this. “But...but everyone’s mad.”
“We had a fight,” Patton agreed, looking unbearably sad. “It got a little out of hand, and everyone needed some time to cool off. Do you think Roman should be hit?”
“What?” The panic hit full force again, but for an entirely different reason, protective rage and disbelief clouding his vision just at the thought of the Prince being treated like that. “Jesus- no! Of course not!”
Patton tilted his head slightly. “Then, why should you?”
“Because…” Virgil trailed off, almost certain Patton wouldn’t like any answer he came up with. His voice was small and unsure when he spoke again. “I...I deserve it?”
Patton shook his head, and Virgil wondered if he was even more annoyed at him for not understanding.
“You don’t,” he said. “You don’t deserve to be hurt any more than me, Roman, and Logan do. You’re always gonna be safe here with us, honey. Even when we fight.”
Patton looked genuinely hopeful, his hands still gently holding Virgil’s own, and even though it didn’t really make sense, Virgil found himself relaxing. Patton wasn’t going to hurt him. No one was going to hit him for this.
“Ok,” he relented. “I’m...I’m still really sorry. For- for yelling and...and slamming my door and stuff.”
“I appreciate that, kiddo,” Patton said. “And you and Roman need to talk this out when you’re ready. But first...can you tell me what happened?”
Virgil shrugged, figuring it was fairly obvious. “I was being an ass.”
Patton didn’t even correct his language, just squeezed his hand slightly and leaned forward to try and meet Virgil’s gaze. He suddenly felt like he was being read like an open book.
“You lashed out,” Patton said, and Virgil winced. “And...while it’s not an excuse, you don’t do that unless you’re already on edge. So what’s going on?”
Virgil swallowed, suddenly feeling trapped despite Patton’s gentle encouragement. “I’m just...I’m just tired and anxious. I get short tempered sometimes, you know that.”
Patton was silent, clearly waiting for him to elaborate, and Virgil had a second of blind panic when he realized he wasn’t sure what the other side wanted him to say.
Did it sound like Virgil was making excuses? Did he think he was lying? Was he expecting a different answer?
Patton sighed, but he didn’t sound annoyed or impatient, giving Virgil’s hands another gentle squeeze. “Can you tell me why the knocking matters so much to you?”
Virgil tensed, resisting the urge to pull his hands away. “It...it doesn’t.”
“It does,” Patton said. “It obviously matters a lot.”
“It doesn’t,” Virgil snapped, and- great, he was doing it again. “It- it’s dumb and selfish and I shouldn’t have yelled at Roman over it. I can- I can get over it.”
He was absolutely not going to start crying over this. He didn’t think Patton would snap and hit him over it, but he knew how obnoxious it was to listen to.
“Honey,” Patton said, in that gentle, understanding voice that could always coax Virgil out of his spiraling panic. “Can you please tell me what’s wrong?”
Dammit. Patton really sounded like he cared, like nothing could convince him that it wasn’t just another one of Virgil’s useless problems that he needed to get over by himself.
Virgil groaned, pulling his hands free despite the way his chest ached at the loss of comfort, instead moving to run them through his hair.
“It...it’s just…” He closed his eyes again, deflating, suddenly too tired to keep fighting. “This- this is the first time anybody has come into my room because they wanted to. You guys- you guys want to see me when you come in here.”
Patton was watching him carefully when Virgil opened his eyes, looking a little lost but beginning to understand. He nodded, gently urging him to continue.
“Nobody...the Others never came to see me unless they...unless they were mad. And they- they didn’t bother to knock, obviously, if they were just- just going to h-hurt me. And then you and Logan knocked and- and I know it’s dumb but it just...made me feel like I had some control, you know?”
He took a shaky breath, once again refusing to meet Patton’s eyes. “When Roman kept...walking in without warning I just...forgot. I kept forgetting I was safe. The only time someone had done that was when they were...you know. It’s stupid, I know it’s stupid and I can’t expect to--”
“Kiddo no.” Patton’s hands were suddenly slipping into Virgil’s again, and where he’d expected resentment or annoyance, Virgil found only quiet concern. “It’s not stupid! Not at all. Kiddo...Virgil, why didn’t you tell us?”
Virgil shrugged again, hating how obvious his trembling had become. “Because it’s just...it’s just knocking. I shouldn’t...I can get over it, it’s--”
“It’s not just knocking to you,” Patton said. “It might be small to us, but that means it’s something we can easily do to make you feel safer, Virgil.”
“But it’s stupid!”
“It’s something you need,” Patton corrected, continuing over any halfhearted protests. “Remember what Logan said about your recovery? We’re all doing our best, but we’re gonna end up stepping all over your triggers sometimes. You don’t need to feel bad for helping us learn. You never should be afraid to ask us for something that makes you feel better.”
Virgil couldn’t bring himself to pull away from Patton this time, just miserably curled in on himself and frantically tried to think of an acceptable response. “I...I’m sorry. For turning it into a fight.”
“It’s alright,” Patton promised. “But you need to tell Roman and Logan why this is important to you, ok?”
Virgil pushed down his panic, knowing he wouldn’t be able to get out of this. “Is Roman mad?”
“Not anymore,” Patton said. “He knows he pushed you a bit, and he’s a little worked up about it. But he’ll be ok after you come down.”
“It’s not his fault. I’m the one who--”
“Placing blame isn’t important.” Patton slid off the bed, still holding Virgil’s hands, and carefully helped the anxious side to his feet. “Are you good to go downstairs? We can always wait.”
“I’m...I’m good. I need to apologize.”
Patton didn’t argue, just gave him a small smile and led them both out into the hall, hands still interlocked as they made their way down the stairs.
Logan and Roman were in the living room when they arrived, sitting in silence on the couch and clearly waiting for whatever awkward scolding was inevitably going to occur after Virgil worked up the courage to properly explain himself. Great.
“Hi,” he muttered, not sure how else to start, hesitating at the bottom of the stairs. He felt like a child, small and defenseless. “I’m...really sorry, you guys. All of you. I shouldn’t have snapped at you and- and I shouldn’t have said those things. I didn’t mean it.”
Virgil heard Roman sigh, tensing on instinct until he glanced up to any anger or annoyance completely drained from his expression, his posture almost relaxed.
“It’s alright, my Starry Night,” he said softly, and Virgil wanted to sob in relief. “I shouldn’t have gotten so defensive over something so silly.”
And then the relief was gone, replaced with something cold and painful, and he suddenly remembered what had made him lash out in the first place. Because it...it wasn’t silly. It mattered to him.
Luckily, he didn’t have the energy for anger anymore and Logan was speaking up before he could let himself say something stupid.
“I also feel as though I should apologize,” he said, which was not what Virgil had been expecting. “While I was only attempting to decrease the tension, it appears I may have misspoken and succeeded in doing the opposite.”
Virgil wrapped his arms around himself, trying not to dwell on the way he’d blindly snarled at Logan. “It’s fine, Lo. You didn’t do anything.”
“Still,” Logan said. “I want to make sure you are aware that it was not my intention to make any sort of comparison between you and...the people from your past. You are nothing like them, Virgil. And you never will be.”
Virgil swallowed against the lump in his throat and quickly looked away, eyes suddenly embarrassingly wet.
Roman made a sound that Virgil would have killed him for if he wasn’t suddenly so grateful for every person in this room. Even if he’d still lost the right to his privacy for however long they deemed appropriate, at least no one hated him.
“Kiddo.” Patton was suddenly putting a gentle hand on his shoulder, and Virgil remembered they weren’t nearly done here. “Can you please tell them what you told me? About why it’s important to you?”
Virgil thought he might actually prefer to fling himself into the sun than to admit it again, but Patton had said please and Roman was looking at him curiously, no judgment or tension to be seen.
Besides, Roman deserved to know why he’d practically been screamed at out of nowhere, as shitty of an excuse as it was.
“I still shouldn’t have yelled,” he said. “It’s just...before- before you guys, people only barged into my room if...if they were mad and didn’t want to wait until I came out to...do whatever they were gonna do to me. And I know it shouldn't be a big deal but- but when you open th-the door without knocking I just...panic. I- I forget that I don’t have to be afraid of you.”
His words were met with heavy silence, and Virgil’s legs suddenly felt weak, knees wobbling under his weight. He dug his nails into his hoodie sleeves, refusing to meet Roman’s eyes, not ready to face any scorn or disbelief.
“Virgil,” Roman said, barely a whisper. “Oh, Virgil I’m so sorry.”
What?
Roman stood from the couch, but he didn’t approach or yell or call Virgil ridiculous. His eyes were wide and he looked...distressed?
“I-I had no idea...Virgil I’m so sorry! I should never have gotten so angry with you, I...I should have just listened.”
“What?” Virgil hadn’t actually meant to speak aloud, but Roman was slowly walking forward, brimming with regret and hope as he reached for Virgil’s hands, which he numbly offered. “No, Roman don’t be- you literally couldn’t have known.”
“No, but I should have listened to you! I...I just thought...God, we always tell you to let us know how we can help you feel safe and- and I just got mad at you for it. I’m...Virgil I’m so very sorry.”
“I should have just told you.” He’d messed up. He’d messed up, he’d lost privacy privileges and he’d made Roman upset. “I- I should have known you wouldn’t be mad. I don’t know why--”
And then Roman had his arms around him, pulling him close in his familiar embrace of warmth and safety, and Virgil practically melted against his chest, returning the hug almost desperately.
“Group hug!” Patton cheered, hurrying over to join as Virgil laughed. “You too Logan!”
There was a sigh from the couch, though Virgil knew there was no real resentment from the logical side. “If I must.”
The hug only lasted a minute or two, but Virgil let himself close his eyes and relax under the knowledge that he was still safe. Even if he’d messed up, even if he still needed to be punished, they weren’t going to hurt him.
When they all pulled back, Roman lingered a moment with his hands ghosting over Virgil’s arms, smiling hopefully down at him. “Are we...good?”
Virgil matched the smile, fighting to push down any thoughts of future punishment. “We’re good, Princey.”
Patton actually clapped, grinning as he reached over to ruffle Virgil’s hair while Logan squeezed his shoulder, and Virgil was suddenly reminded that he was surrounded by the biggest dorks in the universe.
“Thank you for informing us of the trigger, Virgil,” Logan said, blunt as ever but somehow...Virgil didn’t really mind. “You deserve to have control over who enters your room, and we will all be careful to respect your privacy in the future.”
Virgil stepped back, a panicked ache returning to his chest at the reminder of what was coming. They were going to be careful in the future, which meant the world to him, but…
But he knew how this type of punishment went. He knew that he’d be suffering sleepless nights of staring into an empty hallway, always on edge and constantly looking over his shoulder, feeling miserably exposed and vulnerable.
“Virgil?” Patton asked softly, and Virgil abruptly realized how tense he’d gotten, jaw clenched tight because he refused to cry over a punishment he deserved. “You ok?”
They were all so...nice. They were so, so kind to him. Maybe...maybe they’d be a little more lenient with this too? Maybe they’d at least tell him how long it would last in advance.
“I- I know it’s kinda selfish to ask,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry, but...how- how long until I can have it back?”
His question was met with silence and blank stares, and he saw Patton frown and glance curiously at Logan, who furrowed his brow in response.
Virgil flinched, even when no one moved, because he’d just managed to repair the damage he’d done, just gotten them to stop being angry with him, and now he’d messed everything up again-
“Virgil,” Logan said slowly, and Virgil warily met his eyes. “Until you can have...what back?”
Virgil blinked and glanced briefly at the others, wondering if this was some kind of trick. But all he was met with were confused, worried stares, and he was painfully reminded of the first time he’d asked when they planned on hitting him.
“My...my door?”
He immediately regretted saying anything when Logan’s eyes went wide. “Your door?”
“Wait, you think we’re going to take your door?” Patton asked, sounding oddly alarmed. “Why on earth would we do that?”
“Because...because I have to earn privacy,” he said, like it was obvious. He sort of thought it was. “I was loud and I- I yelled. And I slammed my door, so obviously--”
“Did they do that to you?” Patton asked. “Did they...did they say you had to earn your privacy?”
“I- I mean, yeah. If I was too loud and they didn’t think I learned my lesson with...you know...the usual stuff, they’d take it down for a while.”
“Kiddo--”
“Only sometimes, though,” he added, like he needed to defend them. “They- they knew I got really on edge when I couldn’t...uh, close myself off. I- I can’t really sleep without my door, so could it...maybe only be a couple days? I promise I won’t ever--”
“We are not going to take your door,” Logan cut him off, watching Virgil with something unreadable behind his glasses. “That was yet another form of abuse, Virgil. You do not have to earn your privacy.”
“You don’t have to earn anything,” Patton jumped in. “Your door isn’t a privilege!”
Virgil shook his head, that same lost, hopelessly confused feeling returning with a vengeance. He wondered why it was always so hard for him to understand kindness. “But I thought...Roman said I had to earn my privacy, I thought--”
“What?” The Prince looked affronted, taking a startled step back. “No I didn’t! I would never imply something like that!”
“You...y-you did.” He wasn’t trying to argue, he just...didn’t understand. “You said...you said you wouldn’t respect my privacy if...if I was a jerk. After...after I yelled. I thought that meant--”
“Oh, Virgil no.”
And then Roman was pulling him into another hug, and as confusing as it was Virgil couldn’t find it in him to complain.
It only lasted a few seconds, the Prince pulling back to cup Virgil’s face in both his hands, forcing him to look Roman in the eyes.
The Prince gave an almost lopsided smile, his hold gentle. “I really need to start thinking before I speak, huh?”
“What?” Virgil couldn’t shake his head without risking dislodging Roman’s hands, only able to stare with wide eyes. “N-no, it was my fault. I’m the one who--”
“I’m the one who ignored your discomfort, Virgil. I wasn’t thinking. If anyone’s at fault here, it’s me.”
“But I--”
“I do not believe blame is important,” Logan spoke up, and Roman and Virgil quickly turned to him, the Prince’s hands dropping to his sides. “And we definitely do not need another argument over who is at fault.”
Virgil winced, hunching his shoulders even if Logan sounded more amused than annoyed. “Sorry.”
“No more apologies necessary,” Logan said. “We are all still learning to respect and understand each other. It will take some time and a lot of work, but today was a good learning opportunity. For all of us.”
Virgil didn’t quite relax yet, still reeling from the revelation that he didn’t have to worry about losing his door now or ever, and entirely unable to comprehend how today could be anything other than exhausting for everyone. “How?”
“You did really well explaining to me what was wrong,” Patton said, quickly continuing before Virgil could argue. “It took a bit of coaxing, but you’ve been taught to be scared of opening up, kiddo. That’s not gonna go away overnight.”
“But you did it,” Roman added. “You were brave, Stormcloud, and I’m proud of you. And...and now I know what you need, and why I hurt you. I...I should have realized sooner, but--”
“It’s ok,” Virgil said quickly. “It’s...it’s ok. You...you know now, right? And I- I know you won’t get mad if I tell you the truth.”
“Of course,” Roman promised. “Of course I won't be mad at you. I- I know I messed up today, but I swear to you I’ll do better next time.”
“We all will,” Logan agreed. “There will be misunderstandings and mistakes, from all of us, but they can always be worked through. You’re safe here, Virgil. That will never change.”
They...they meant it. All of them, watching him with unabashed hope and adoration, wanting him to believe them. And he did. Even when a part of him, the parts that had been hurt over and over again, screamed at him not to.
“Ok,” he said, still quiet and unsure, but steady all the same. “And I...I get to keep my door?”
He was almost afraid to ask, like maybe he’d crossed some sort of line by bringing it up again and all of their kindness would be abruptly ripped away. But Patton just smiled sadly and took his hand.
“Nobody’s gonna take your door away,” he said. “Privacy isn’t something you earn, you don’t ever need to worry about that. We won’t hit you, kiddo. But we’re not gonna take away the things you need to feel comfortable, either.”
Virgil’s throat felt tight, vision blurring as tears gathered against his will, but something loosened in his chest. “Oh.”
He felt lightheaded, far away and a bit dizzy, and he was suddenly reminded of how little sleep he’d gotten, how endless the miserable night had been.
“How about we move over to the couch?” Patton suggested, running his hand through a teary eyed Virgil’s hair. “I’ll get us some food, and you can doze off when you’d like, Virge.”
Virgil nodded, not able to do much else in the moment, smiling when Roman began to lead him over to the couch, gently rubbing his back. “Sounds good to me, Padre.”
Patton had sandwiches and chips on the coffee table in a matter of minutes- or maybe time was starting to move in a distant blur now that Virgil’s exhaustion was starting to catch up with him.
They ended up curled up together with a vaguely familiar movie in the background, Virgil rested against Roman’s side with his head on Logan's shoulder.
“Thank you.” It was nothing more than a quiet murmur, and he didn’t bother to wait for the response before shutting his eyes, letting himself drift away.
He didn’t have any more nightmares that night, waking up the next morning tucked into his bed with his bedroom door closed.
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