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jisungsplatforms · 4 years ago

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[Chapter VI: Girl Talk! And...Uh oh.]

Pairing: Producer/Music Major! Han Jisung x Photographer! fem! reader

Genre: NSFW! Smut; non idol au, college au, strangers to lovers

Warnings: Mature Content! strong language, angst (no smut this chapter!)

Chapter Word Count: 4.5k

Taglist: @hyunjeongins @seungstarss @es-kay-zee @hyunjinsplaything @formidxble @freckledquokka @lbxgsunshine @cartierbin @solistired @rainbowmagicpixecorn @http-hyxnjxn @dwaebinnie @gothmingguk @minniehohos @seoulicitae @delicatemugtreehairdo

Unable to tag: @kayannainsworth15

(want to be added? send an ask or a dm! <3)

It’s been a few days since your date with Jisung and you haven’t seen him since. Was this something you brought upon yourself? Yes.

Dumbass...

You stared blankly at the ceiling, thinking about the last text you sent him. ‘Sorry, I think I caught a cold’? Why would you say that to him?! You were so focused on wallowing in shame that the sound of the doorknob twisting did not register in your mind at first.

“Y/N~! I’M BACK!” a feminine voice yelled out as you watched the door flung open all of a sudden. Forgot she’s coming back, you thought as the face of your beloved roommate entered your field of sight. “HELLO~! Oh…”

“Welcome back, Lia,” you greeted her unenthusiastically, staring at her without any expression.

“Girl,” she stopped, taking in the way your body was splayed limply on the créme-colored couch. “I didn’t realize I took your happiness with me.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Ha ha.”

Lia closed the door behind her, dragging in her large grey luggage. “Looks like I brought your sense of humor too. Do you want me to go back to Canada to find it?”

Groaning, you sat up, staring at her dead in the eye, while she laughed at her own joke. She struggled with bringing in her suitcase while mumbling about ‘how hilarious she is’ and that she should do standup comedy. Once she had successfully hauled her luggage through the cramped hallway, she pushed it to the corner of the living room before walking to where you were at. She plopped down beside you with a bounce, moving the throw pillow onto her lap.

“So why do you look like...that?”

“Boy troubles.”

“Boy troubles?!” Lia said in shock. “Wow, I never thought I’d hear that from you.”

Taking her words to slight offense, you glared at her, pouting. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing! It’s just that—nevermind, continue!”

“Well, okay then... First off, Minho is a menace to society. Never go to a party with him,” you announced, adjusting your position without making any eye contact.

Your roommate chuckled. “What? Why start off like that?”

“It’s an important piece of information,” you waved her off, as if you were telling her to just listen and don’t ask questions. “So, I went to a party with him and Hyunjin a few weeks ago, right?”

“Yeah, how was it by the way?”

“Big. Seo Changbin is a rich motherfucker,” you deadpanned, snapping your neck to finally look at her. Meanwhile Lia laughed boisterously at your unexpected dryness.

“Anyways, Jinnie got DRUNK about thirty minutes later and Minho, being the dear friend he thinks he is, went off flirting with this dude with a red beanie, leaving me to babysit him.”

Lia interrupted. “Hold on, when do these “boy troubles” come in?”

You hushed her, covering her mouth with your foot. She swat your foot away from her face as you spoke. “Wait. I was getting there!” you complained. “So the red beanie dude Min was talking to, the one I mentioned earlier? I thought he was hot as hell, like if I wasn’t so busy dealing with a drunken Hyunie, I would’ve shoot my shot with him but nooo. Minho is a BITCH but it's okay, I still love him, especially since he’s the reason I have a thing now with that red beanie cutie.”

“Girl, really?! How did he do that?”

You sighed, jokingly scolding her, “Maybe if you didn’t interrupt me every damn minute, Julia, I would’ve finished my story faster.”

“It’s not my fault your storytelling skills are horrendous!” she huffed. “But sorry, I won’t interrupt now! Keep going!”

“Okay, so, after a while, I finally got Min to help me, which took like, another thirty minutes, I think? Then fast forward a little, that lazy bitch is driving us home, the drunk bitch is suffocating me with affection, and I’m just wondering why the hell those two are my best friends, but whatever. After Minho dropped me home, I wanted to text him to thank him for helping me wrangle Hyunjin, even though I forced him to, and I thought did, right?” you paused for a moment to see if Lia was still following along. After a subtle nod from her, you continued. “So I thanked ‘him’ then asked ‘him’ if he could give me that red beanie cutie’s number, which, to the total surprise of my dumbass, ended up being him.”

“Ooh...plot twist!” she randomly cheered, making you snort. “Sorry...I just had to add that!”

“It’s okay, that was the perfect commentary for that situation,” you giggled, adjusting yourself on the couch. “But yeah, fast forward again, and we’ve been hanging out, texting, and just recently, went on a date.”

“That’s great, Y/n!” Lia hugged you. She leisurely rocked you until she realized something was wrong with your story. She asked, abruptly letting go of you, “Hold on, why did you leave it at a good ending? Where’s the ‘trouble’?” Before you could answer, the sound of your notifications going off from your phone stopped you. You leaned over to see who texted you, picking it up.

(3) new message(s) from: Hannie Bear 🍯🧸

“Hannie Bear?” Lia giggled. “That’s such a cute nickname. Who’s that? Is that the boy you were talking about?” She proceeded to coo, shaking you around and making kissy noises.

You hushed her, cutely pouting, “Shut up, he gave himself that name.” You playfully pushed her face away, turning to the other side. You tapped on the notification banner to read it from your lockscreen.

Hannie Bear 🍯🧸: hey babe!

i noticed you didn’t come to class today either

are you still feeling sick baby? :( do you want me to come over?

“Huh? I didn’t know you were sick, Y/n,” Lia said slowly. You turned your head to see her looking over your shoulder, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Oh! Uh—That’s funny ‘cause—”

“Y/n, when was the last time you texted that boy?” You stayed quiet, avoiding eye contact with her. “Y/n?” she said sternly.

You sighed guiltily. “3 days ago…4 since I last saw him.” you mumbled, with the fuzz on your socks.

“3!?” she gasped, “Text that poor boy!” You hesitantly unlocked your phone, bringing your phone up to your face.

Me: Yeah, sorry Sung, I’m still kinda sick :( bleh

Please don’t come over! I don’t want you to get sick cause of me

Hannie Bear 🍯🧸: aww but i miss you :((

it’s okay. i won’t bother you now

just take care, okay? Get well soon!

i love you! ❤️

‘I love you’...There’s that stupid sentence again. Why does he keep saying that?

All of a sudden, your roommate pulled your arm towards her, forcing you to show your phone to her. She glared at the screen. “You are a terrible person, you know?” she commented after reading all your messages. You sighed, silently agreeing with her. “Why would you tell him you’re sick!?”

“I don’t know! I’m sorry!”

“Don’t apologize to me! Apologize to ‘Hannie Bear’! Tell him that you’re not sick!”

You spluttered, panicking. “NO! He doesn’t have to know that I’m not sick!” You lunged away from her to move your phone from her as far as you could. Lia payed no attention to your action, a bit confused with your reaction.

“Then why are you lying to him!? Are you avoiding him?”

“NO! I—Y-YES?! I DON’T KNOW ANYMORE!” you yelled, chucking your phone to her lap. You let out a heavy exhale, rubbing your face while you laid half your body down. Lia got up, locking your phone, and walked in front of you.

“Talk to me, Y/n,” she gently said. “What’s wrong? He seems like a nice guy.”

“He is,” you whispered. “God, he’s so fucking sweet and funny and considerate and—fuck. I don’t know…” She squeezed your arm, silently comforting you. You removed your hands from your face and sat up, looking at your sweetheart of a roommate with uncertain eyes. “Lia, I don’t know how to feel. I’m so confused! I think..everything happened so fast that... I-I’m scared...I don’t wanna fall in love with him. I don’t want to fall in love, in general. I-I’m not ready! I’m so scared that—”

“Listen,” she stopped you, moving to sit beside you again to wrap her arms around you. “I know that every single one of your past relationships weren’t the greatest. But that doesn't mean you should NOT fall in love with anyone anymore. I know it’s scary, but at least...try? And if you really don’t think it will work out, then please don’t lead him on like that. That’s just going to make the whole situation worse. It will only hurt more.”

You took a deep breath, calming yourself down. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Lia let go, leaving her hands on your shoulders. “You don’t have to talk to him today but please go to school tomorrow to talk to him, face to face. Deal?”

“Deal.” She brought you back to her arms, hugging you tighter and rubbing your back. You wrapped your arms around her figure with the same amount of urgency. The two of you stayed like that for a few sentences until she let go first.

“Thank you for being here for me, Lia,” you muttered into her neck.

She hummed, burying her head into your neck. “Of course. Whenever you need some ‘girl talk’, you know I’ll always be there for you.”

You released yourself from her grip, sniffling. “Welcome back home, again, Jules,” you grinned. “Wanna tell me about your trip back home?”

You walked through the semi-crowded halls, anxious. I’m getting a serious case of deja vu right now, you thought, quietly snickering to yourself. You gripped your bags closer to you, walking in a quicker pace until you reached your locker. Setting the combination of the lock, you swung the door open, digging through the small storage to switch out your books for the day.

“Hey, Y/n!”

You flinched, hearing someone randomly call out your name. Slowly turning around, filled with dread, you saw Seungmin and Jeongin walking up to you. Your shoulders slumped in relief. “Good morning, Y/n,” Seungmin greeted with a warm smile.

“Morning. Wow, it’s amazing to see you early,” you laughed, referring to Jeongin.

He scrunched his face then laughed. “I’ve been coming early for the past few days already. You would’ve known if you’ve been here.”

“Oh yeah, what happened to you? Are you okay?” the other boy asked.

Your heart stopped, panic surging through you. Why are you so scared? They’re not the ones you’re avoiding! You stared at the two boys like a deer caught in headlights. “Uhm...Sorry about the sudden disappearance but I—uh—caught a cold a few days ago.”

“Oh really?” Jeongin said. “I mean, you do look tired though so I guess that explains it, but good to know you’re good now!”

“Are you sure you’re even fully recovered?” Seungmin gave you a subtle stank look. “You should be wearing a mask, or something! Did you remember to bring some medication with you today? Don’t push yourself too much! We don’t wanna be responsible for dragging you to the clinic.”

You rolled your eyes, scoffing. “Thanks, Seungmo. I knew I could always count on you.”

“I don’t like getting sick, Y/n. Please respect that.”

Jeongin laughed. “I don’t mind!” he chimed. “Come here and spit into my mouth!”

“Jeongin! What the heck? That’s freaking gross!” Seungmin exclaimed in pure disgust.

You and Jeongin roared with laughter; Jeongin hunched over, laughing even harder when he noticed Seungmin taking small baby steps away from the both of you. “It was a joke, Seungmin!” he wheezed. “Don’t run away!”

“Stop, get away from me.” He swatted the younger’s wandering hands away. Seungmin clicked his tongue, “I mean it. Don’t you dare!”

“Aw, no need to be so mean! We’re friends, aren’t we? And friends share everything together!” you quipped.

“Not ‘everything’— Jeongin, stop!” Seungmin groaned, jokingly pushing Jeongin away as the latter started to rub his chest, laughing. “God, why are both of you so irritating? Gross.”

Your laughs started to die down when you remember a key detail. You weren’t actually sick at all; you didn’t like lying to them even if it was just a small one. Eyes scanning through the halls, you checked to see if there were any unwanted eavesdroppers. “Now I feel bad,” you said, “truth is, I—”

“What’s wrong?” Jeongin asked, stopping his annoying advances. Staring at their worried expressions made you remember that these are Jisung’s friends as well-- so that means they might tell Jisung about your troubles, especially Seungmin.

“I..uh—” your voice cracked, “actually, I wasn’t that sick—I mean, I was, i guess. But it was more of a… ‘mental health’ day! Yeah…” I mean, it kinda was though?

The two boys ‘aww’ed in pity. Seungmin was the first to comfort you. “Do not worry about it, Y/n,” he spoke softly, rubbing your back in comfort, “I know this month’s been busy for you, especially with that project Mr. Kim gave you. I think a mental health day was called for.”

Jeongin stepped forward, patting your shoulder. “Yup! Next time you have a ‘sick day’ call me so we can have one together!” he grinned.

“You know, you’re too eager to skip school, Yeni.” You narrowed your eyes, chuckling. Jeongin shrugged.

“No! It’s more so to comfort you at your lowest! I also don’t wanna go to school either....”

Seungmin scoffed, “There it is…”

“But it’s true! I do also want to be there for Y/n! At least I admitted that I’m also just lazy to go to school.”

The two of you snickered at your younger friend as he frowned. Seungmin tugged on Jeongin bag in an attempt to drag him away. “Let’s go now. The bell’s going to ring soon. I’ll see you later, Y/n. Bye,” he said, waving goodbye. You giggled, the sight of him dragging Jeongin the way he was vaguely reminded you of a dog going on a walk. You waved back to the two of them, internally giggling.

“Oh! Whatever you do, please don’t tell Jisung I’m here today!” you called out. They looked at each other in confusion, wanting to inquire about your odd request. Ignoring their puzzled expressions, you turned around to finish switching out your books. Finally grabbing your Environmental Science textbook, you closed your locker, fumbling with your lock to hook it back onto the handle. Getting a strange feeling of someone watching you, you looked over to your right, catching a glimpse of dark blue hair walking away from you.

You laid in the darkness of your room, the dim brightness of your phone bouncing off of your face being the only source of light. You were scrolling through your social media when a notification banner with a message from Jisung popped up.

Hannie Bear 🍯🧸: hey y/n let’s talk

You sat up in agitation, mentally debating if you should answer him or just pretend you didn’t see his message until you were ready. In a state of panic, instead of swiping the banner away, you accidentally clicked on it. Shit! you thought in horror. You already felt guilty enough for avoiding him, leaving him on read would just make you an asshole.

Me: Hi Sung!

What’s wrong?

You drummed your fingers against your blanket, anxiously waiting for his response.

Hannie Bear 🍯🧸: hmm...nothing :))

i just wanted to check up on you

You let out a heavy sigh of relief, clutching your chest; your heartbeat now calming down. You brought your phone closer to your face, thumbs typing away.

Me: Awww you’re so sweet Sungie

How was your day?

Right as you finally calmed down, his next plethora of messages sent you back into a panic.

Hannie Bear 🍯🧸: it was good. but...uhm

hey y/n?

just know, even though we’ve only known each other for a month, i still care a lot about you

if there’s anything that’s bothering you PLEASE talk to me, okay?

that’s all i wanted to tell you. take care, okay?

goodnight.

i love you

Your anxiety levels increased tenfold. Did he know? Feeling more guilty than ever, you read his messages over and over again with a heavy heart. I don’t deserve him…He really doesn’t deserve this!

Me: Of course Sung. Thank you

I’ll see you tomorrow

Looks like it’s time to face him again.

...You had no sleep, whatsoever.

The guilt and anxiety you felt from avoiding Jisung for the past few days was eating you alive. Why am I such a terrible person? You (not so gently) smacked your head into the wooden table, concerning the other onlookers in the library. You wanted to spend your impromptu free period loathing yourself before you had to see Jisung next period; alone. However, that plan was immediately shattered the second you felt a presence behind you.

“Boo!” someone whispered into your ear, slightly shaking you. You jumped, turning around to glare at whoever bothered you, only to see the smiling face of your best friend.

“Hyunie? What are you doing here?” your eyes followed him, watching him take the seat beside you. “l thought you and Lixie were gonna go to the studio?”

Hyunjin threw his back onto the table, resting his head on the table to match you. “We were but Lix left me to help some of his old theatre buddies and I don’t like being alone so now, I’m here! Besides, why would I leave my favorite person alone?”

You gave him a cheery smile. “Thanks, Hyunjin.”

“Mhm! I noticed you looked kind of sad though. Are you okay?”

You scrunch your face with a hiss. “You noticed?”

“Uh? Of course I did!” he drawled. “I’ve known you for over ten years already, Y/n. It’s kinda hard to not notice something like that.” You sat up, grumbling, not wanting to tell Hyunjin exactly why you’ve been so weird lately. He sat up with you, now serious. “Y/n? Is this because of Jisung? Did something happen between the two of you?”

“No!” You boomed. Your face heated up in embarrassment when you noticed the nasty look some people gave you. Muttering a quiet ‘sorry’, you hunched over, leaning closer to Hyunjin. “Jisung did nothing wrong. Actually Jisung is a total sweetheart so there’s nothing to complain about him. It’s just…”

“What? Did you find out about the hentai he watches in his free time?”

“What? No? Hold up, he watches hentai?”

Hyunjin shrugged with his hands up, faking a clueless look. “I don’t really know if he does watch it, perse, but I did catch him watching a softcore hentai before.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Huh? Nevermind. It’s not important whether he watches hentai or not anyways.”

“Good. Don’t let that get in between your relationship! Don’t wanna ruin a perfectly healthy one!” he said with a slight chuckle. Your mood instantly turned sour at the mention of your relationship. Of course, Hyunjin noticed it right away. “Y/n?”

You sighed, biting your lip. “If i tell you, you promise not to tell anyone?”

“Honestly, unless you’re cheating on him or something, then of course I gotta tell someone, he’s my friend too. Other than that, I promise!”

“Okay, great. And don’t worry! I would never cheat! Only on tests though,” you jested. The both of you chuckled before the mood went serious again. “So, you know how Jisung and I went on a date about a week ago, right?”

“Yeah…?”

“That day...Jisung said the ‘L’ word.”

Hyunjin gasped. “The big ‘L’?! He said ‘I love you’ to you?” he queried, mouthing out the ‘I love you’ part. You nodded with wide eyes.

“Yup…A full on Kdrama-inspired declaration of love when we were alone at the park!”

“Y/n, that’s honestly amazing! Did you say it back?” Your face was sullen, slowly shaking your head. “Oh, really? Hm. That’s a little...huh.”

“He says it a lot too.”

“Oh yikes,” he lamented. “No pressure or anything but, if you feel uncomfortable with it, maybe you should tell him?”

“No, it’s not that I’m uncomfortable it’s just that— geez I actually don’t know!” you cried out as quietly as you could, slouching in your chair. Hyunjin pouted in pity, leaning over to pat your thigh.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain yourself if you can’t or don’t want to. But I still think you should talk to Jisung about your stance in your relationship. You know he’s a sensitive boy.”

“I heard,” you sighed. “But I don’t think I have the heart to tell him exactly what I think about him.”

“You kinda have to eventually? Tell him if you want to make it official or if you wanna break it off. The sooner, the better; otherwise you’re basically just leading him on.”

“God, I know, Hyunjin! You think I don’t know that!?”

He patted your head in an attempt to calm you down. “Hey, hey. I know you know. I’m just telling you,” he whispered calmly. “Jisung is an amazing person. He’s very sweet, caring, fun, and honestly just the go-to person when you need a shoulder to cry on. Anyone is lucky to be with him!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know he’s all that. He’s nice and everything but he wasn’t someone I wanted to have feelings for! Jisung was just supposed to be a fuck buddy! No love, no affection, no feelings whatsoever, why did he fall in love with me?!” you wailed. “I was not supposed to fall in love with Han Jisung. To be honest, I kind of wish we never met.”

Hyunjin stared with a sorrowful look, knowing exactly why you’re freaking out the way you are. He was about to comfort you and give you advice when something—or someone—caught his eye. His eyes widened, weakly muttering an ‘oh shit’. You turned around, following his gaze to see…

Oh shit…

You abruptly stood up, mouth opening and closing, trying to find the right words to say to Jisung, who was staring at you with an indescribable look in his eyes. “J-Jisung! I...What are you—”

“I came here to look for some books for a research paper,” Jisung said. You tried to ignore how his cold tone sent a pang of sadness through your chest.

“Oh. Okay,” you awkwardly smiled. “I-I really like the new hair. Dark blue suits you!”

“Thank you...I remembered how you said you wanted me to try dying my hair blue so...I did it...to your request.”

“O-Oh, really?”

“I wanted to surprise you,” he muttered, pressing his lips together. “But apparently you had a surprise for me too…”

“I— How much did you hear…?”

“Everything, I’ve been here since after Hyunjin came in. Listen. Y/n...I told you, if you had a problem, especially if it’s about me, tell me about it, face to face, instead of talking about me behind my back. That shit is embarrassing, you know? Being talked about like that from someone you thought you could trust.”

“Jisung…”

“I want to hear you out, I really do. But I don’t think I want to talk to you right now, ‘specially after what you said? I don’t think it’s fair to me.” Jisung’s voice was starting to grow loud and desperate, tears forming in his eyes. “I poured my feelings out to you; I told you I loved you. I knew it was too soon to tell you that but I still took that leap, cause I thought we had a connection. I knew deep down you felt the same— at least, I thought I did…I thought you’d say it eventually but not once have you ever said ‘I love you’ back, Y/n! Do you know how much that killed me? I thought I’d be okay with it but everytime I expressed my feelings for you but never got a response back, it hurt! It made me feel like I’m just wasting my time! I-I FELT LIKE AN IDIOT!”

Hyunjin stepped in, hushing the both of you. “Guys, I know this is something between the two of you, but people are watching now. You should take this outside.”

“No. It’s okay, man. I said what I wanted to say,” Jisung said, already making his way out of the library. “Goodbye, Y/n. Take care, alright?”

“No...Jisung, wait!” You forced your shaky legs to chase after him. However, Hyunjin wrapped his arms around you, stopping you.

“No, Y/n. Give yourselves time,” he whispered into your hair, kissing the top of it to calm you down. You turned around and cried into chest, clutching onto him tightly. He tried his best to maneuver you both around to a more secluded area of the library, mouthing out a bunch of ‘sorry’s for the scene that was created. Finding a dark corner between the aisles, he carefully pushed you to it, lifting your head to see your face. You looked up, red faced with tears and snot running down your face.

Hyunjin reached into his pocket to take his handkerchief to wipe your messy face. He held the cloth against your nose, wordlessly telling you to blow your nose. Despite how disgusting he found the sound was, he resisted the urge to cringe, seeing how this was no time to act dramatic. “It’s okay, Y/n. Breathe,” he gently comforted you. He left the dirtied handkerchief on his lap and securely wrapped his arms around you again. He caressed your back, softly humming a sweet song. “Shh shh. You’ll be okay. Just let it out.”

You weakly stuttered, “I didn’t want to tell him like that. I didn’t want him to think I didn’t love him back, Hyunjin.”

“Everything will be okay, Y/n. Just cry it out first, then we’ll deal with this together.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings! This is my fault! It’s because I was a fucking idiot and let my fears get in between us!”

Hyunjin just stayed silent and hugged you tighter, moving his hand to the back of your head to tuck you into his neck. He played with your hair, knowing how relaxing it was to you. He went back to humming another song and held you until you were calm again. You let go of him, still sniffling.

“Feel better now?” Hyunjin asked. You shook your head no.

“Not really. I still feel like shit but not as much as before.”

“I mean, that’s still progress?” he tried joking around to lift your spirits. The joke only went over your head though.

“Yeah. Better than crying,” you agreed listlessly, wiping your nose. He stood up and held his hands out. You took them, hoisting yourself up. “Thank you, Hyunie. I love you.”

“Of course, I love you too, Y/n. Talk to Ji when you’re ready again, okay?” He led you out of the dark aisle to go back to your table. You latched yourself onto his arm, hiding your face.

“Okay. But for now, can you please just take me home? I don’t think I’m in the right mindset now to continue the rest of the day.”

“No problem. Anything for you.”

[PREVIOUS CHAPTER] �� [NEXT CHAPTER]

A/n: i apologize for posting this chapter so late! as i’ve mentioned before, i did get a little busy so i haven’t been able to work on any fics. hope you all understand! <3 AND idk if anybody noticed but i combine chapters 6&7 together instead to somewhat make up for the late update, that’s why it’s a little longer that what i usually write! hope you enjoyed!

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz smut #skz scenarios #skz imagines #stray kids series #han jisung series #han jisung smut #han jisung scenarios #han jisung imagines #Late Night Indulges

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mcmoth · 5 years ago

Text

Reconciled

Tommy was there… sitting…

Suddenly Tubbo realized he may not be ready for this after all.

That feeling only doubled when Tommy turned, and their eyes met. There was an unnerving lack of recognisable emotion in his best friend's eyes. Eyes, that held heavy bags under them. His hair was long and unkempt. His skin bore more scars, His clothes dirty and tattered. He… He looked miserable.

He… He had to talk to him. He won't run away. It was Christmas. He couldn't leave Tommy alone, not today of all days. Not when he looked like this. God, what had happened to him?

***

It was Christmas Eve. And Tubbo was going to see his best friend and apologise.

Read it on ao3

CW: near death expierence, vague mentions to hallucinations, implied manipulation/abuse/neglect (shown in results, not in action)

Sooo, yeah, here's the Tommy and Tubbo reconciliation fic before the streams probably bring us more angst, cause I personally need it :"> (also, a little note, I started this before Tommy rebuilt the bridge, so sorry for that little inaccuracy ;^^ Anyways, onto the fic)

*** *** ***

Tubbo was going to see Tommy.

He considered bringing others with him. After all, it was Christmas Eve. It was the holiday of family, of togetherness. But… he felt like. He needed to… sort things out first.

So, he was going to see Tommy. And he was going to apologise.

With an anxious gait and 2 retrieved disks in his inventory, he pocketed his compass for the moment as he stepped into the purple light of a nether portal. When his senses returned, air thick and hot and eyes blinded momentarily, it took him a bit longer than usual to take in his surroundings.

Oh.

The bridge was gone.

Well, it wasn't gone gone. He could still see it start again a distance away. But… It was taken down. And in it's place was installed a precarious log. It didn't seem stable. It looked dangerous. It kind of made Tubbo a bit nauseous, when he watched the lava bubble just below it. But…

It was no matter. If that was what he had to cross to get to Tommy, he'd take it.

And so, he slowly made his way across, hyper aware of the compass in his pocket, heating up from the nether air. He didn't want to fall and lose it. It's already scratched up. If it made it's way into lava, he would not be able to recover it.

Thankfully tho, before he could realise it, he found his feet stumbling onto solid obsidian again, and he let out a long, relieved sigh.

So that was done. Now he just had to walk his way to the other nether portal, simple as that.

He continued on, eager and nervous, towards his destination. Towards To-

Wait.

Uh….

Tommy was there… sitting…

Suddenly Tubbo realized he may not be ready for this after all.

He… He had to talk to him. He won't run away. It was Christmas. He couldn't leave Tommy alone, not today of all days. Not when he looked like this. God, what had happened to him?

After managing to wrangle air back into his lungs, Tubbo spoke. “H-hey, Tommy.”

His voice was met with numbly shocked eyes and nothing more. Tommy continued to stare. It was… It was unnerving. And only after a minute or so, a response came. A short and quiet, almost unheard “what the shit.”

Tubbo grimaced, trying to not get overwhelmed with nerves. “S-sorry, I know. We… we really haven't spoken in a while, huh...? So I just. Thought. Since it's Christmas and all…”

He watched Tommy, who continued to stare at him. Silently bewildered.

“I would. Finally come to visit you…?” He reached a hand into his pocket, fidgeting with the compass. His voice wobbled. “Sorry that it took so long…”

Still, no real answer came. Tommy just muttered something, now even quieter, and. Then went back to… staring at the lava.

Uh.

If he was to be honest. Tubbo was kind of hurt. He came here to reconcile, and now, Tommy was just… ignoring him? What the hell?

“Tommy?”

When no response came still, he took a step forward, and then another. More until he was sitting next to him. The other boy was tense, refusing to look his way.

“Tommy, c'mon… look at me…”

He placed a hand on his shoulder, but apparently, that was a bad thing to do, as immideately, Tommy was jumping to his feet, startled, and his eyes were wild, and his arms flung around as he tripped on his own feet, and then he was falling-

“Tommy-!”

Quickly, he reached out, both hands grasping at his tattered shirt. Miraculously, thankfully, their center of gravity swayed away from the ledge, and they instead crumpled on the bridge, a mess of limbs and panicked thoughts.

When his head stopped spinning, and his thoughts came back from the pit of dread, of death, of knowing that could be the end, for both of them, he looked and he saw. Tommy stare back at him, from above, propped up on an arm. Shocked and… scared. Confused.

Unbelieving.

An intake of breath. Shaky and shy.

“T-Tubbo…?”

His voice was… so quiet and sad. It kind of hurt to hear.

“Yeah… yeah, I'm here, Tommy.”

Tommy continued to stare at him, looking him over, inspecting his gaze, slipping in and out of his own mind. He raised a shaky hand, carefully, slowly, putting it to Tubbo's cheek. He seemed almost startled when it connected. His fingers were cold despire the warm nether air. Then, a few quiet words escaped.

“You're… you're real.”

Tubbo had no idea what he meant. That scared him.

“…Yeah? Why wouldn't I be real?”

A string seemed to snap in Tommy, a single point of tension, unravelling. “You're real. You… you came to see me.”

Tubbo didn't like how his voice wobbled. Didn't like the disbelief in his voice, how meek he sounded, looked. Tommyinnit was not meek. He was the furthest thing from meek. How had he changed so much in so little time? Was… was it really that long? Was… he should have visited a long time ago, shouldn't he have?

Wrecked with guilt, he clumsily propped himself up, sitting up, and before he could comprehend the flinch Tommy gave at he proximity, he took him in his arms.

Held him tight, close. Willing the shaking away, the fear. God, he hated seeing Tommy scared.

“I'm here, Tommy. I'm here…”

It took a long while until Tommy relaxed in his grip and finally set his head on his shoulder, arms wrapping around loosely as his hands tangled in the other’s shirt. Another bad sign. Tommy was usually so clingy with his hugs. Secure.

Exhaling, Tubbo raised one hand to run through Tommy's unkempt hair. It was oily and long. Why wasn't he taking care of himself…?

“Tommy…?”

Abruptly, he realised Tommy's breathing has been getting slower. Blinking, he tapped the boy's head a few times.

“Tommy? C'mon don't fall asleep on me now, big man…”

When no response came, he hesitantly detangled from the hug and put a little bit of distance to see the other's face. Tommy’s eyes were dull and heavy, and it seemed like he was blinking in and out of consciousness, even as he desperately tried to focus on Tubbo in return. It seemed to be a losing battle.

Sighing, he carefully stood, taking Tommy with him, wrapping one of his arms around his own shoulders. Concerningly, he was lighter than he remembered him being. “C’mon, Toms, let's get back to your bed. You don't wanna fall asleep here.”

Tommy just let out a small noise that Tubbo couldn't tell whether it was affirmative or negative, and then they were on their way.

The cold winter air immideately hit them when they left the heat of the nether, and Tommy instantly began trembling. Well… now Tubbo realized one reason Tommy might’ve been hanging around there instead of here.

Shifting so that he could hold Tommy closer, Tubbo took one look at the small, open tent and turned away, instead making steps towards the log walls. When they entered the house there, it was a bit warmer, but not warm enough by any margin, and Tubbo felt his dread grow bigger. Thankfully, tho, when he turned to the bed, there seemed to be at least 2 warm blankets, with a lighter one on top of those, so he quickly made his way there, unfurled them and sat Tommy down.

Before long, they were both in the bed, under heavy blankets, Tubbo holding Tommy close to help combat the cold. The other's hold felt more like himself, arms wrapped tightly around Tubbo, head buried in his hair. Slowly relaxing and falling to a restful sleep.

Tubbo wanted to talk to him. He had so many things he wanted to ask him, about this place, why his clothes were so tattered, why he was so light, why he was so tired, why he was uncertain that Tubbo was real, what he's been doing here, how he's been spending his time. If he'd ever missed him. If he'd ever forgive him. If there was any information on when he could return.

But… for now. Tommy was exhausted. And the best thing to offer to fix that was rest. So, they'd sleep, and the rest would come in the morning. They could figure it out.

***

Tubbo awoke feeling more rested than he had in… months.

It was crazy. But, He guessed it made sense. His days lately had been very saddled with responsibility. And while it was fulfilling, working towards a goal, building up L'manburg again, it was also… tiring. And, frankly, isolating.

He turned his head to look at Tommy's face. His dumb, embarrasing, sleepy face. He still looked worse for wear, but now, at least, he looked peaceful. That's something he could appreciate.

Seeing as how he could see the last of morning sunlight flitting into the room, he guessed it was a good time to disturb, that, tho.

Shaking the other boy lightly, he had expected him to wake quickly, as Tommy was a light sleeper usually. But, instead, to his surprise, the other took a while to mumble in protest, lazily turning in bed, before he finally opened his eyes.

Chuckling, Tubbo greeted the faded blue lightly. “Good morning!”

Tommy was still slow to respond, tho, blinking copiously as he stared at him and the rest of the room. Then, almost numbly, he uttered, “I'm not dreaming still, am I?”

Tubbo laughed, incredulous. “What??”

Something seemed to click in Tommy's brain then, tho, as his tired eyes suddenly widened and he shot up in bed, tense and overwhelmed, looking at Tubbo with an intensity he doesn't think he's ever seen Tommy display. Not towards him.

Taken aback and out of the peaceful mood, Tubbo shrank into himself, staring him back despite the sudden anxiety.

“Y-you…”

“Me.” Tubbo gulped.

“You…” Tommy's eyes looked sad, more than anything. “You came to see me.” Until they no longer did. “Y-you finally came to see me. Why didn't you visit me before?! Where were you?!”

Tubbo involuntarily trembled, trying to get past the lump in his throat. “I- I was- I thought you-"

“You had all this time to see me, weeks, and you never did! Why did you visit me now? Why now, huh? Is it out of-"

“I-it's- I'm sorry, It's Christmas, so I thought-"

“Ohhh, so it is out of pity, you don't actually care, none of you do, I knew it, you just think ‘ohh, I'm gonna go see the stupid exiled man now, do a good deed,’”

“No-“

“Well yeah, I see right through your shit, you don't care, Dream was right, you don't care about me, none of you do, you all ha-"“

“I THOUGHT YOU HATED ME, TOMMY!”

Everything turned still.

Tubbo didn't mean to shout. Didn't mean to raise his voice, display this vulnerability so loudly. But, when feeling under attack, what's left to do but defend yourself?

Trying to get his heart rate back to normal, he focused warily on Tommy. Tommy, who was slightly trembling, and had a very conflicted, almost confused look on his face.

“I- …”

A breath.

“I don- No, but you hate me.”

It took a bit for Tubbo to process those words.

Brows furrowing, he wracked his brain for clues, trying to figure out Tommy's thought process and how to continue onwards. “N-no? I. Where… where did you get that idea from?”

Tommy seemed very, very lost. His eyes darted from staring, to looking away, fingers tangling in the blanket. His movements were all jerky, his breaths irregular.

“…Tommy…?”

“Y-you. Don't…?”

Holy shit. Tubbo's heart was gonna break. What was happening? When had Tommy learned to speak so quiet, when had he started to think Tubbo could ever hate him?

“No…! Tommy, I… I don't hate you at all, where did you get that from?” He tried to make his voice as soft and as convincing as possible, restraining from reaching towards him, in fear of being overbearing. None of that care seemed to be enough, tho, as Tommy's brows still furrowed, a bitter turn appearing on his lips.

“Oh… I dunno, maybe from how you exiled me? And never came to see me afterwards?”

Tommy’s voice was starting to really crack, and something in Tubbo did as well. “I’m sorry-"

“Not even to show up for that beach party? And- and you. You burned the compass. Wilbur gave it to you. I know…” He lifted his eyes, gazing right back at the other. They were so wide and vulnerable. “I know all about that Tubbo."

Tubbo furrowed his brows, feeling questions bubble up. “Uh… well, I- I’m very sorry about the party, I. I didn't get an invitation, but…” he slid a hand in his pocket. “You mean this compass…?”

He pulled it out, presenting it to Tommy, delicately wiping off a stray bit of dust as he did so.

Tommy’s breath seemed to catch in his throat as he stared at the item, shock clear as day. Carefully, ever so fearfully, he reached out, and when Tubbo gave a nod at his silent plea for permission, he ran his fingers across the ‘Your Tommy' engraving and opened the lid. Once more, he looked up for permission, then took the compass out of Tubbo's hands and stared at the dart move, spinning around, likely checking if it truly pointed to him.

Tubbo felt like he should feel off with the compass being taken away from him, even if briefly. He always had it on him. And the few times he's dropped it, even if it hadn't been damaged during, he’d felt terrible. Like something was missing.

But… the compass was to point at Tommy. And Tommy was here, right in front of him. He didn’t need any more comfort than that.

His thoughts, however, got interrupted, when Tommy let out a sound. It took him a second, but Tubbo did recognise it. Something that he hadn't heard from Tommy in so long. Something that he hadn't realized how much he’d missed.

A laugh.

He watched as Tommy smiled at the compass, his braced teeth showing off slightly. With another chuckle, he turned it towards Tubbo, eyes lighter, even if slightly embarrassed. “What the fuck… did you really choose that picture to put there?”

Tubbo peeked at the ‘jump in the Cadillac’ photo, a laugh of his own bubbling out. “Yeah… That was the first one I could find. It's silly, but… well, you are silly, so.”

Tommy continued to stare at the item, something wistful and tearful in his expression. He let out a small huff. “Thanks…”

Tubbo couldn't tell whether that was meant as sarcastic or not, so he opted not to reply, and simply accepted the compass back when it was offered. Then, they sat.

It was a long drag of silence, of sitting in crumpled blankets, of looking at the dust dance in the morning sun, of shaking ever so slightly from the chill that’s starting to catch up, until either of them dared to interrupt it.

“So…” Tommy hesitantly started out. “You. You said that… you didn't get an invite…?”

Tubbo watched him, apprehension swimming like an eel in his gut. “Yeah…? Was I supposed to get one?”

“…” Tommy inspected the blanket, tearing bits of string apart and wrapping them around his finger until it turned purple. “…Yeah.”

The eel grew bigger. “And… but. I didn't.”

Tommy continued strangling his blood vessels, slipping into his own head.

The eel wanted out. “How…” he gulped past the weight in his throat. “How about others…?”

A string snapped in half, leaving a finger to recover. Tommy took long to answer.

“…there were no others.”

A new string.

“Noone showed up.”

Tommy hunched inwards. Started winding the string again.

“Noone but Dream…”

The eel was big, and it bit, and it threatened to climb out as Tubbo struggled to find a voice. “I. I'm sorry… I'm so sorry, Tommy…”

Tommy narrowed his eyes, exhaustion setting back in. “Don't pity me.”

“I’m not.” Guilt was so much stronger than pity. “I’m sorry. I'm sorry for exiling you. I'm sorry for not visiting you. I'm sorry for not sending you any messages, checking up on you, anything at all. I'm sorry for leaving you here, all alone.” He took in a shaky breath, eyes beggining to water dangerously. “I'm sorry for saying the discs don't matter. I'm sorry for- for calling you a liability… You're not. You're not. You're the furthest thing from a liability, Tommy.”

Tommy refused to raise his eyes, hiding his face behind a long mop of hair and raised shoulders.

“You're my best friend. I never should have done that to you… I'm so sorry, Tommy...”

Tommy was still for a while. Then, he shook his head. “No, Tubbo… You had to do what was best for L'manburg. I understand.”

Tubbo sighed, exasperated. “It didn't even do any good for L'manburg, tho…” he muttered.

A pause. Tommy blinked, raising his head slightly, finally. Quietly, he uttered “What?”

“It…” Tubbo averted his gaze, something like shame and sadness in his eyes. “It's not going good, Tommy. I mean… the buildings are all… nice, but. It's just land. And L'manburg isn't just land, Tommy.” He glanced at Tommy for a moment, looking defeated. “It's the people. And… and lately, everyone's been just… disbanding. Seperating... I can't keep it together.”

Tommy… didn't know how to process that. L'manburg… seperating? Dissipating? Such a concept had never occurred to him as a concern before… There had. They had always fought for L'manburg. Right? And didn't Dream….

“But… Dream said it was going great without me, tho…”

Tubbo was suddenly zeroed in on him, and… and in his eyes was anger. Startled, Tommy quickly scooted back, curling up more, not letting himself take his eyes away as his breath catched.

“Well, Dream is a bitch.”

Tommy was… Tommy was burning. His feelings were torn, fleeting from anger at Dream apparently lying, to his mind shouting that Dream was his friend and he wouldn't do that, between wanting to believe it and not believe it in equal amounts, of not being able to believe, his instincts still running high at the intensity of Tubbo's stare, wishing the blankets could wrap around his head and suffocate it all out.

“B-but…”

However, Tubbo came back to his senses as he realized Tommy's distress, and quickly the anger evaporated, in it's place fleeing worry. He took a breath to collect himself before continuing on, voice softer this time. “Tommy, Dream is full of shit. I should have realized that earlier.” He glanced to the side. “Well, I mean, I'd known that, to an extent, already, but…” he sighed. “I… You were right. I… still can't tell you whether exiling you was necessary at the time or not,” Tommy felt a resignated ache. “But. What I do know is that I acted impulsively and like an asshole. And… big part of that, I think, is that… Dream drove us to that point.” Tubbo looked up at Tommy, leaning his head to try to meet his eyes. Hesitantly, Tommy obliged, gazing back warily.

Tommy has looked miserable ever since he saw him again. Still, Tubbo didn't think he could get used to it if he tried. It still hurt to see him so beaten down. And… based on what he's heard from him, he guessed he knew who was to blame, besides himself. “Tommy, Dream has always had a vendetta against you. You know not to take anything he says to heart.”

Tommy straightened, a retort on his lips, but, it never came. Instead, something very conflicted flashed across his face.

“I…”

I know, he wanted to say. But, that wouldn't be entirely true, would it? He didn’t know. He didn't know why Dream had seemed to care for him so much, and, with these recent revelations, he didn't know how much Dream had lied to him about. He didn't know anything. He used to be so sure about his allegiances, about how Dream, despite the occasional out of character support, was his enemy first and foremost, but… This exile had forced him to confront a lot of things about himself, and others. And now it was all getting questioned again.

It was all… so confusing. Maddening. To the point of a headache, splitting his brain, as his body shakes, cold and worn down. From the frost on the windowsill, from the countless nights spent restless and alone, from the tears in his clothes and soul, made from damages he could not yet comprehend, much less accept.

Before he could take the blanket, tho, use it as a defense, it was taken by a different pair of hands and snugly wrapped around him, warm and secure. Taken aback, he stared at Tubbo, who viewed him with kind eyes, a pleading raise to his brows. Patient and gentle, looking at him like he was the most precious thing in the world.

“Remember, you can't trust Dream. Don't listen to him. It's you and me, right? Tommy and Tubbo against Dream, against the world. We can't let him convince us otherwise. Just you, and me, big man.” Tubbo smiled. “Always.”

Tommy blinked. Then blinked some more. And continued blinking, a familiar itch welling up in his eyes, only this time, his chest felt full with something else.

This time, when he allowed the tears to fall, free and unhidden, his forehead falling against a familiar shoulder, familiar small hands resting against his back and running through his hair, a familiar, comforting hum of his best friend echoing in his mind, his heart swelling up, he felt okay. He felt loved.

He felt at home.

“Thank you.”

Everything was far from over. Tubbo still had many, many questions. Tommy still had a difficult recovery to await. They still had a major obstacle to overcome and a long, winding road ahead of them. But, for now, just sitting in each other's embrace, warm and breathing and reconciled, was all that they needed.

They will be okay.

#dream smp #tommyinnit #tubbo #fic #fanfiction #protective tubbo #hurt/comfort #angst #exile arc #my writing #mcyt #my own post

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jessiewritesthings · 5 years ago

Text

Saudade - Epilogue

Prince Zuko x Reader

Here she is!! Saudade is my baby and i’m so happy and so grateful for everyone that has taken the time to read this, i love you all! thank you thank you thank you x

Part I - Part II - Part III

168 AG

Izumi smiled softly, flipping through the pages of the family album. Black and white photos dotted the pages, documenting the life you had shared with Zuko for more than seventy years. Images of you and Zuko at the helm of numerous Fire Lily Festivals, visiting Fire Nation Citizens, meeting with delegates from all over the Four Nations. The images Izumi liked the most were the ones with all your friends in them – as a child she had thought it was just the coolest thing that her parents were best friends with the Avatar.

She also particularly loved the photos you would take on your vacations to Ember Island – loved how proudly you held yourself, scar and all. Most people would take to hiding away, a scar so bad as yours was enough reason to, Izumi had figured. She knew her father struggled with it every day – no matter how many times you tried to comfort him, he always saw it as a sign of his weakness, a reminder of the cruelty that Azula and Ozai, and the rest of his predecessors had put the world through.

Your life with Zuko hadn’t always been easy, though it had definitely been worth it. Numerous assassination attempts on the both of you had plagued your first few years together, and the backlash from Zuko’s advisors as he proposed and promptly married you, crowning you his Fire Lady, hadn’t gone down particularly easy. Nonetheless, you were stronger together, and in time the Fire Nation grew to love you, just as they did Zuko.

Izumi sighed, a tear rolling down her cheek as she closed the album, placing it on the corner table before joining her father on the balcony.

“Izumi, my dear,” Zuko murmured, reaching for her hand as she placed it on his shoulder.

Izumi stood silently with her father, watching as their guest’s ships began to depart. If she squinted, she could see Katara with Tenzin and Pema, waving as Pema wrangled with Jinora and Ikki, young Meelo clinging to his father. Raising his hand to wave in return, Zuko thought about how desperately he wanted Aang, or his Uncle Iroh around – someone that could help him come to terms with the most devastating blow he’d been dealt yet.

It had been two weeks now, since Zuko had woken to find you cold, yet soft and peaceful in his arms. Your arms had still been pressed across his chest, the same groove you always found yourselves sleeping in, legs pushed together like you were two halves of a whole – which, in a way, you were. Zuko had swallowed down his fear, and his cry for help, as he looked at you, softly brushing your white hair from your face, his fingers delicately running the beads along the strands.

“Oh, my sweet y/n,” he had whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his tears starting to fall over your face. He stayed there with you, unable and unwilling to move, as if he stayed still forever you might open your eyes and greet him. His eyes didn’t move from your form when his attendant, Mira, entered the room, a tray of hot breakfast and steaming tea in her arms.

The tray was quickly placed on the side table as Mira rushed to the bedside, gasping in shock.

“Lord Zuko,” she started, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Mira, please.” He let go of you now, gently removing himself from your bed, as if trying not to rouse you.

Mira came to his side, placing an arm on Lord Zuko’s shoulder before he smiled softly at her and pulled her into a hug. Zuko continued to cry, comforted by Mira. You had been loved and admired by all of the palace staff, and many of them had requested to follow you and Zuko when you had moved to Ember Island following Zuko’s abdication as Fire Lord.

“The Lady y/n will be remembered fiercely, Lord Zuko. The Fire Nation’s most delicate flower.”

Zuko smiled, fondly remembering the first time he had introduced you to his dragon, Druk. Zuko had the utmost confidence in the dragon, and you had been positively terrified – not because he was a giant fire-breathing dragon – you’d proven yourself more than capable of handling fire by now – but he was just so big. Nonetheless, you had mounted Druk, and shrieked in surprise as Zuko leapt off the dragon, watching as you soared into the sky, your wild hair flowing as you clutched onto Druk’s scales. Zuko was positively enamoured – he’d already spent a lifetime loving you, but seeing you ride Druk with such tenacity and grit had sent him straight into the past, flying through all your history until you were both back in the Crystal Catacombs in Ba Sing Se. Zuko was enchanted by you, and he knew he would be until his heart stopped beating.

You were beaming as Druk had landed, your hair windswept and your blue robes loose, exhilarated. Leaping off the dragon, you ran to Zuko’s arms, flinging yourself to him as your arms found their natural home, your lips pressing to his scar.

“Zuko, that was incredible,” you’d exclaimed, astounded.

“Mmm, it certainly was.” Zuko smiled – watching you ride Druk was better than being in the reigns himself.

“My Dragon Queen,” he murmured, pressing soft kisses against your neck, the spot he knew you loved the most.

_____

Zuko sat with his daughter until the sun had entirely disappeared, and then they sat together for longer, watching the night as the stars began to dapple across the sky, the moon incandescent in its beauty as it graced the sky. They sat silently, hands clasped together, tucked into a patchwork quilt you had made for Izumi’s birth – a delicate, stunning piece of work that seamlessly incorporated both sides of you and Zuko, magical swirls of red and blue speckled with gems and beads.

Izumi twirled the blue beads adorning the quilt through her fingers, recalling the countless nights that she would rouse you both from sleep, claiming to be plagued by nightmares. You never complained, always opening your arms to pull her in, letting her nestle in-between you and Zuko where she would sleep freely. Sometimes, before sleep took her, Izumi would feel your fingers drifting through her hair, and she would fall asleep in such a tranquil, safe space.

Eventually Izumi heard stories about her grandfather Ozai – horrifying stories of what he’d done to the world, his nation, his family. She’d never asked her father about his scar – in-fact it never occurred to her as a child that it deviated from malicious intent, because her mother had one too. In Izumi’s young mind, she used to imagine that the two of you being scarred was just the spirits way of making sure you found each other, as if your scars acted as magnets that would bring you together wherever you were.

“I was so lucky to have her love me, Izumi,” Zuko hummed, voice raspy. “I always knew I would love her, after we first met. Your mother, she was magic. Ethereal. It has been the greatest honour of my life to love her, and that love brought me the greatest gift: you.”

Izumi smiled fondly at her father, leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead.

“She was lucky to have your love, too.”

Lord Zuko turned to his daughter, a soft smile gracing his face. She was an excellent Fire Lord, and he recalled the time Ursa had told him that a Fire Lord producing a nonbending child was a disgrace in Ozai’s eyes. Of course, Ozai was wrong. Izumi was not a bender, but Zuko constantly found himself in awe of his daughter’s calm demeanour, and when he abdicated his throne, he had never been prouder of Izumi as she was crowned Fire Lord.

Izumi’s birth had not been easy for you – she was a stubborn babe, and you’d been in labour for hours – days actually, as you later found out. Katara was assisting you, and Aang had taken Zuko away to keep him distracted – it was awfully improper for a husband to be present at a birth of course. Naturally, that didn’t deter you, and you constantly pleaded with Katara and your handmaiden to please, please, please get Zuko. As Zuko and Aang returned to the palace, Fire Lord Zuko was informed that your child still had not been delivered. Anxiety consumed him, and to the horror of his advisors he’d dashed to your chambers, grasping your hand and whispering sweet nothings into your ear as you finally delivered a healthy, beautiful, precious baby girl.

Zuko was enamoured with Izumi immediately, and would often be found after a particularly highly-strung meeting with his advisors sitting on the balcony in Izumi’s nursery, holding his soft, sweet girl in his arms. Before Izumi was born, Zuko had confided in you that he wasn’t sure about his ability to be a father – he wanted to be a good father so much that it overwhelmed him, and he wasn’t able to comprehend it. He’d blurted it out in the middle of a game of Pai Sho, neither of you knowing that you were in-fact already carrying the Crown Princess of the Fire Nation. You’d reached your arm across the board, hand gently caressing Zuko as you gave him a reassuring smile.

“You will be magnificent, my love. Any children we have will grow to see their father the same way I do – brave, intelligent, loving and kind.”

Zuko took your hands, pressing them to his lips as he watched you, shadows from the flames flickering across your face.

“Have I told you that I’m madly in love with you?” he replied, a cheeky grin forming. Forgetting the game of Pai Sho, you crept over to his side, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Not nearly enough,” you answered, your lips pressing together as Zuko put his hands in your hair, pulling his fingers through.

“I’m madly in love with you, y/n. Every minute of every day.”

175 AG

Lord Zuko stirred softly in his sleep, out on the balcony as usual – you had spent most of your time here curled up together, after all. He was smiling softly, thinking of you as he always did. It had been an interesting few years without you, but nothing could fill the void that was left inside Zuko after you left. He would often wake from a restless sleep, desperately clutching the sheets as if you were there, only to be disappointed every time. He played many games of Pai Sho with Mira, and she would sit with him each evening, enjoying a cup of tea on the balcony as they kept each other company. Most often, Zuko would sit on the loveseat in the balcony, your favourite blanket draped across him for comfort instead of warmth. He’d sit there with his tea, usually forgetting it as he would drift into a deep sleep, visited by you and your memories together.

“Come, Zuko. Let’s go down to the beach,” you urged.

The sun was setting on Ember Island, and you were due to return to the palace tomorrow, Fire Lord duties to be resumed. Iroh had graciously stepped in in place of Zuko to allow the pair of you to have on ‘official’ honeymoon, something you were both incredibly grateful for.

Slipping your hand into his, you’d made your way down to the beach, both barefoot and revelling in the soothing nature of the sand. You’d let go of him now, running through the waves as they crashed on the shore. Zuko couldn’t do much more than stare at you – your hair shined in the fading sun, the red hues making you look delicious and warm. Your gown wrapped around your waist, unravelled slowly, revealing your scar. Zuko grimaced, a flash of pain echoing on his face. Seeing this, you ran to his side, placing your hands in his.

“I just…,” he started, swallowing. “I just wish I could take it away, for you.”

“Don’t, my love. It is as much a part of me as yours is you. I am proud to have this scar. Proud of what it represents for us, for all that we’ve been through. I don’t want you to feel this way every time you look at me.”

Zuko smiled softly, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“I look at you, and I am alive.”

Zuko placed his hands on your waist as you wrapped yours around his neck.

“Dance with me,” you whispered. Zuko blushed – forever the one with two left feet – and the two of you danced, softly, delicately, holding each other as if all the love in the world had been given to only you both in that moment. Water rushed over your feet as you moved across the sand. A laugh escaped you as Zuko caught his foot on yours, accidentally tripping you up as you both fell into the sand, water lapping at your feet. Sighing, you ran your fingers through his hair as you rested on top of him.

“I think I loved you the moment I saw you. Even if I didn’t know it then,” you’d whispered, gazing into his eyes. Zuko had raised his head slightly, watching you carefully, almost as if he didn’t believe you. “We will be remembered, Zuko. For the right reasons.”

Pulling himself off the sand, Zuko lent back, allowing you to shuffle into his arms. You sat silently together, watching as the stars began to dot across the night sky, peaceful and content like neither of you had ever felt before.

Zuko woke slowly, the first rays of the new day dawning. You stood before him, hazy and radiant and celestial in your beauty, before reaching one hand out to him.

“Come, Zuko. There’s still so much more to see.”

Zuko’s eyes closed, a long, deep breath escaping for one final time. He was in his dreams now – dreaming his dreams with you.

_____

“Lord Zuko,” Mira called, unsurprised to find the elderly Lord had once again slept on his balcony.

Mira approached him, a gasp of shock leaving her as she realised just how peaceful he looked. In his hands he held a small, silver hair clip, adorned with white and blue gems and beads.

Ah. Together again.

_____

oddment-niwit-blubber-tweak

eridanuswave

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lammello

whalerus

astroninaaa

lil-lex1

zukosvice

darkskin-buttercup

yiyibetch

#mywriting #zuko #prince zuko #zuko x reader #zuko x you #prince zuko x reader #avatar: tla #avatar imagine

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solalunar-eclipse · 5 years ago

Text

Team Dark: A Holiday Special

Chapter Three: Rouge

One | Two

Word count: 5900 words

Warning: entomophagy again (more eating bugs)

Author’s Note: I believe it’s the winter solstice today, so happy winter solstice! I heard once that there used to be a holiday around this time called Saturnalia to celebrate this solstice (way cooler than my holiday name which definitely wasn’t borrowed from a game)

Thank you to everyone who read this fic, but in particular to @maddgirlzartz, @feliner, and @teamxdark for your wonderful comments! I always love to see what people have to say about my writing, and it was great to read what you thought of this little holiday story I wrote.

...

Rouge was the first person to wake up on the third morning, which was a surprise in and of itself. Normally, Shadow or Omega would have gotten up by now, but she figured that watching movies until late last night had made both of them need some extra time in bed (or at the outlet).

The bat crawled out of bed and flapped her wings, coming to hover silently above Shadow’s bed. She watched him sleep for a moment (and briefly entertained the notion that this might be creepy before deciding it was his fault for falling asleep in a room with her). All of the stress and worry that normally lined his expression was gone right now, making him look so much younger as he lay curled up underneath a thick quilt.

She almost felt bad about what she was going to do.

Almost.

Folding her wings tightly against her back, she crashed onto Shadow’s suddenly no-longer-asleep form and screamed, “Happy Wintersday!”

Shadow gasped and flailed under the covers for a second, before realizing that it was just Rouge and they weren’t, in fact, under attack. He struggled to catch his breath, wheezing, “Why...the heck...would you...do…”

“Because it’s a holiday, hon!” she chirped, grinning wickedly down at him.

The hybrid resigned himself to being Rouge’s new bed. “...happy Wintersday.” he muttered, looking significantly less upset than he should.

Omega had powered on in a rush when Rouge had yelled, and he was now staring at the scene in front of him with something akin to resignation. “What in the name of Chaos are you two doing.” he said flatly, in a tone that suggested that he really didn’t want to know what they were doing.

“Happy Wintersday, Omega!” Rouge said brightly, deciding not to respond.

Shadow said the same, but his statement was rapidly followed by a very loud growling noise.

Omega looked slightly confused, but Shadow just sighed. “Rouge, that was you, wasn’t it.”

“What can I say, hon? It’s wintertime- time to eat!” she said a little too loudly, ignoring the spreading pink blush on her face.

“Sure.” Now it was Shadow’s turn to smirk. “You’re hungry because it’s wintertime.”

“Shut up!” she huffed, smacking his arm. “Anyway, we’re not ready for breakfast yet. I bought something for the two of you first.”

“I thought we were exchanging our presents tomorrow before the party.” Omega said skeptically.

Rouge grinned. “I know. This is something extra.”

She enjoyed their expressions of dread following this statement immensely.

…

A minute later, Rouge had dug out the crux of Operation: Festive from her suitcase, only to be met with decidedly unappreciative stares.

Omega was the first to realize what was going on. “Oh. Oh no. No way. There is a zero percent likelihood of me wearing that ever. I will not compromise my coolness.”

“What is that?” Shadow asked, using a tone that implied that he was looking at something disgusting, not Rouge’s awesome plan.

“That is what you are going to wear.” She smirked.

His eyes widened in horror. “No.”

“Come on...won’t you please just do this one thing for me?” Rouge asked, using her warmest, gentlest voice. She knew for a fact that neither of them could resist that.

Shadow trudged forward, accepting the offending item as Omega reluctantly snatched his from her hand. The bat felt just a tiny bit guilty, but not enough to make her regret this.

Specifically, buying the three of them matching ugly sweaters.

“Matching as a team can be cool, but never like this,” Omega sulked as he put his on (it had taken a miracle to get one in his size).

“It’s clashing with my stripes…” Shadow muttered unhappily.

Then they both began to glower at her, for some reason. “And yet you still manage to look decent in it somehow.” the hybrid grumbled.

Rouge glanced in the mirror. She supposed it wasn’t unflattering, per se, but it definitely didn’t complement her body type like most of the clothing she wore did.

“Come on…” she said, honestly pleading with them. “If you really hate it I won’t make you wear it, but I was looking forward to this…”

Both of them immediately looked anywhere except at her.

“I guess it’s warm enough.” Shadow conceded reluctantly.

“I will tolerate it for one day and no longer.” Omega informed her flatly.

“Yesss!” Rouge cheered, smiling brightly at them. “I so owe you guys.”

“Don’t forget it.” the robot remarked.

…

Overall, the morning was really nice- although Rouge’s family was horrified when Shadow chose to eat his hot chocolate by alternating spoonfuls of cocoa mix and drinks of boiling water instead of out of a cup like everyone else. She loved seeing her family’s reactions to the various gifts she’d brought, since she’d spent quite a bit of time picking those out. Omega was the center of attention, as always, and every child was vying for his opinion on their specific gift.

As Rouge relaxed next to the fireplace, sipping her own steaming mug of hot chocolate (with the powder and water combined, thankyouverymuch), she felt someone tap on her shoulder.

The bat turned to see her mother sitting down next to her, looking very tentative.

“Honey?” she said softly. “I know I mentioned this yesterday, but...would you ever feel comfortable telling me about how you met your friends? I’m not asking because I’m judging them,” she added quickly, holding up her hands, “I just...want to know who they are to you. And you don’t have to do it right now, either, just maybe someday?” She’d begun to rush her words out at the end, clearly feeling at least a little nervous.

“Aw, Mom, you know I’ve been having fun telling stories this whole time!” Rouge got into a more comfortable position. “Oh, but these are some of the craziest ones I have. Promise not to freak out, okay?”

“I’ll do my best…” her mother said cautiously.

Rouge took a deep breath to get started. “Alright, so, I met Shadow when he was trying to blow up the planet with a giant cannon-”

“You what?!”

“You said you wouldn’t freak out!” Rouge protested good-naturedly.

“Yes- but- a giant cannon??” her mother gasped.

“Mom, seriously.”

“Fine…”

…

Rouge was halfway through her story about “that time with Infinite” when it happened. She was leaning extremely far forward- which didn’t happen unless she was truly invested in what she was saying- and holding her mug of cocoa off to the right to keep it out of her way.

Unfortunately, to the right was exactly where the fireplace was.

And since she was wearing a dangling sweater… the end result was a lot of shrieking from both Rouge and her mother as she swatted furiously at her sleeve in an attempt to keep the fire from burning her arm.

The younger bat frowned at the end result, though, which was a very scorched and blackened sleeve that did not match the green sweater at all.

Her mother looked rather frightened at this, but Rouge assured her that it was nothing bad, she’d been through far worse- hadn’t she just said as much?

Eventually, after some more questions along the lines of “are you sure you’re alright?”, the two calmed down enough for Rouge to resume her story.

Her mother was clearly fascinated (and slightly horrified) by her tales, although she seemed particularly sympathetic to her daughter’s predicament of “I’m the only one with a brain on this team so I’m holding everything together like ninety percent of the time”.

Once she was finished, though, Lila looked at her nervously. “You won’t be too busy with all this work to come visit us...and maybe call occasionally...will you?”

Rouge smiled warmly at her mom. “No way. I love hanging out with you guys! Just because I have Shadow and Omega now doesn’t mean I’m ditching you guys- it just means more family.”

The older bat looked relieved. “That’s good to hear...I love you, sweetie. And I’m so proud of you.”

“...thanks, Mom….” Rouge said, ignoring the tight feeling in the back of her throat.

They hugged again, of course.

…

When Rouge finally caught up with her other family, though, she found an absolutely hilarious sight.

Somehow, two of her uncles and several kids had managed to wrangle Omega into allowing himself to be decorated with tinsel and lights, so he looked less like a carefully engineered machine of destruction and more like a very expensive Wintersday decoration. Shadow was hiding in a corner, meanwhile, and growling at anyone who dared to come within ten feet of him with any decorations.

Which happened to be just about everyone.

Rouge was determined to see her friends properly decorated, however- and hopefully tease them in the process. She started the process by sticking a poinsettia plant on Omega’s head and draping a strand of lights over his shoulders. He glared at her, but refused to move, likely making sure not to drop the plant on any of the various young children swarming around him. “The pot’s plastic, but you’d better not move anyway.” she warned him, earning an even more intense and furious glower in return.

After that, she rushed upstairs to grab a couple of special items, including one for her makeup kit. She’d dismissed it as unusable and too childish before, but now? Now it was perfect.

Smearing a copious amount of both items on her hands, she walked into the living room (after stopping to grab one other thing from a box just outside the door) and made a beeline for Shadow. He hissed at her, his teeth bared.

“Stop right there.” he growled menacingly.

“Come on, hon!” she protested, fighting her ‘mischief smile’ down. “Do you see any decorations in my hands?”

“No…?” Shadow answered cautiously.

She frowned just the right amount, leaning in slightly to inspect his quills. “Hang on, Shadow, you’ve got something in your quills right there…” she said, trailing off as she began to brush at his uppermost quills.

“What? What is it?” he barked, and she struggled to keep from bursting into laughter.

“There, I think I got it.” she said. “Probably just a-”

Omega interrupted her, his eyes switching to their half-moon shape. “Shadow. You have been pranked most egregiously.”

He looked shocked. “Wh-wha-?” he stammered, reaching up to touch his quills.

The bat grinned the moment his hands came away sticky with glitter gel.

“Rouge…” he snarled, a murderous gleam appearing in his eyes.

She patted him on the head once, slipping a holly sprig out of her glove and tucking it next to his ear simultaneously. His expression morphed from furious to perplexed to- when he saw his reflection in the window- straight-up deathly angry. “There you go, all festive now!” she chirped in a manner she just knew would irritate him.

Five seconds later, a scream that was very much ultrasonic rang through the house, followed by a wild-eyed bat and a hedgehog blazing with chaos energy. A faint shriek of “not the carpets!” came not long after.

Eventually, though, Shadow settled down (after cornering Rouge on top of a bookcase and attempting to climb said bookcase for revenge). He accepted that ‘okay, maybe it doesn’t look completely terrible’, and at least allowed the bat to spread the glitter around evenly.

“None of those moronic hats.” he’d snapped at Omega, who was trying to put a pointed red hat with white trim on his head. “I don’t care if they’re historical or traditional or whatever, I have heard far too many comments regarding my quills and starfishes already in my lifetime.”

Rouge cackled. “Ahah- starfish. That’s too good!”

“Don’t you start-!”

...

Not long after, though, he seemed to have made peace with his fate, as Rouge caught him curled up like a cat in front of the offending fireplace from earlier, a blanket draped over him and his eyes closed peacefully.

She didn’t really want to disturb him, but by the time she’d walked over he was already up. “What now?”

“Lunch, then the video call.” she said.

“Oh right- I nearly forgot. You did pack the presents, right?” Shadow asked her.

“That was Omega’s job.” she said, before giggling at the flash of panic that appeared on his face. “Don’t worry, I made sure they came with us.”

“You’d better. I didn’t bring a Chaos Emerald and there’s no way I’m wearing myself out with a Chaos Control for Sonic and his sunshine crew.”

Rouge snickered again. “I’m sure Knuckles and sunshine have never ever been compared before in the history of this planet- he’ll punch you out if he ever hears that.”

Shadow rolled his eyes. “Fine. I know you’re trying to be more friendly with him, so I guess I’ll be decent so your sweet-talking doesn’t fail.”

“Good!” Rouge clapped her hands together once. “I still can’t believe Sonic was so impatient he insisted we do this a day before- we’ll all be exchanging presents at the party tomorrow anyway.”

“You can’t believe Sonic was impatient?” the hybrid scoffed. “Please. He’d fail the marshmallow test every day.”

The bat hid a grin behind her hand, before walking off. “Come on. Lunch.”

Shadow grumbled something about “but I’m warm here”, but followed her anyway.

…

Later, after some frantic rushing-upstairs and fumbling with phones after lunch ran just a little bit too long, the video finally clicked on.

“Hiiii!” Sonic called brightly once they could see each other. “Happy Wintersday!”

After the various exchangings (and re-exchangings when people got mixed up) of “Happy Wintersdays”, the blue blur got right down to business.

“So. Presents.” he said, rubbing his hands together with a broad grin.

“Oh, chaos, you wouldn’t believe what I’ve been through just trying to keep his hands off your gift.” Tails groaned, looking tired at the very thought.”

“He wouldn’t let me touch mine!” Sonic whined.

Knuckles sighed and rolled his eyes. “Sonic, you’re not supposed to touch them. It’ll ruin the surprise. You know, he’s spent at least an hour total staring at your present today, Shadow.”

The hybrid smirked. “Did he really.”

“No!” Sonic shrieked through the connection, his face turning slightly pink.

“Yes.” Tails said smugly, clearly wishing for some revenge after dealing with the energetic hedgehog.

“Ugh, fine, whatever, now can we just open them already?” Sonic huffed.

“Yeah...but you can open yours last.” Knuckles added, earning a horrified look from the hero.

“I’ll go first, then~!” Rouge sang, tearing into hers. The bat let her eyes burn a mocking hole straight through the camera and into Sonic’s disappointed pout.

When she pulled out the present, though, her smirk faded as she gasped happily. “Knuckles! You didn’t!” It was a small white box with golden embossed letters spelling out the name of a well-known jewelry store.

She didn’t fail to notice how Knuckles averted his eyes, looking tense and...slightly upset?

But by then, she’d opened the box and her attention shifted again to the gorgeous diamond necklace inside. It was fixed onto a fine silver chain, and the diamond itself was held in a swirl of more silver.

“I mean...I guess it’s okay…” the echidna muttered weakly.

That was when Rouge noticed the little slip of paper inside the lid: 100% Cubic Zirconia.

So it wasn’t a real diamond- why should she care? It was beautiful and shimmery and a very thoughtful gift, which all counted for plenty in her books.

“It’s wonderful, hon!” she said cheerfully, putting it on.

“Sorry about, you know…” He sighed, his pride clearly wounded. “Guarding the Master Emerald’s a full-time job...and it doesn’t exactly get you the big bucks, you know?”

Rouge smiled warmly and reassuringly at him, making the echidna blush. “It’s nothing to be sorry for. I love it.”

“That’s good, then.” His shoulders sank slightly with relief.

“Now you open yours!” she insisted, changing the conversation. “It took me some serious work to find, so I want to see your reaction.”

Knuckles tore the paper and opened up the cardboard box….

His silence spoke volumes as his eyes widened considerably.

The echidna pulled out a pair of high-tech sunglasses, all points and cool colors. Then a sort of-necklace, made mostly out of metal. Some steel covers for his spikes. A pair of gloves with more steel woven into the fibers….and a long, thin crystal.

He put on all of the gear and grinned at Rouge. “Remind you of someone?”

“As a matter of fact…” she said, watching comprehension dawn on everyone else (except for Omega, who she knew would have some questions later), “...I do recall a certain echidna who saved me from a rather fiery doom…”

“And I,” he added, smirking now, “remember getting called a creep who just wanted to hold a specific bat’s hand.”

They both burst into laughter at the memories, looking back on them now with fondness and a touch of embarrassment.

“Is it my turn yet?” Omega asked impatiently, already holding his present.

Not waiting for an answer, he ripped open the long cylinder, revealing a cardboard tube with something inside. Shaking it out, he found...

...blueprints for a giant cannon. Specifically, a cannon to be installed in his chassis.

Omega’s eyes sparkled- literally, they turned into sparkles. “Yes.” he said, sounding pleased. “Yes yes yes. This will be very good.”

“It’s all ready, too!” Tails exclaimed. “I just need to wire it into you.”

“Do it tomorrow.” he insisted.

The kitsune seemed pleased with the reception of his present, but was all too eager to get to his own gift.

Opening the box a moment later, his eyes also widened to double their usual size. “Wh- what!? An antimatter injector? Some new chaos drives? You can’t get those anymore! And- is that nanotech assembly gear?? Where did you find these?”

“Oh, you know.” Omega said nonchalantly, pretending to examine his steel fingers. “Places.”

“Very top-secret places.” Rouge said, her face hurting from grinning so much.

Sonic was the only one who looked even remotely distressed. “Isn’t...isn’t that illegal?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve become a G.U.N. sympathizer now, Sonic.” Shadow said teasingly.

The blue hedgehog scoffed. "As if! If it's G.U.N.’s stuff then it's totally fine."

His pretense of sulking completely dropped when Shadow began to carefully unwrap his own present. The hybrid, unlike his friends siblings, tugged carefully at each corner of the box, making sure not to tear any of the (slightly crumpled) paper.

Once it was finally open, his expression became softer than usual. "You remembered."

"Of course I did!" Sonic chirped. "Can't leave a friend in the lurch, now can I?" he added with a wink, smiling.

Shadow lifted the box out of the paper to reveal a small makeup kit- no, make that two, Rouge realized. One had some eye shadow in several shades of black, silver, purple, and red, as well as a black eyeliner. The other, which she noticed he was hiding slightly, had what appeared to be some jewel-tone and pastel colors in eyeliner, not eye shadow.

So that was what Shadow had meant by ‘you remembered’. Rouge remembered too- specifically, she remembered Shadow griping loudly because he wasn’t allowed to use her makeup kit when she needed it. It was hers first, after all.

Rouge smirked. "It looks great, hon! I might need to borrow that sometime…" She trailed off, her knowing grin growing to blatantly wicked proportions.

"No!!" Shadow and Sonic yelled simultaneously.

"Dude, I literally got him this so he wouldn't steal yours! Don't you dare!" Sonic gasped, looking more than a little frustrated.

"Relax, boys, it's alright." Rouge said calmly- which only served to rile Shadow up further. "I'm only teasing, you know."

The hybrid scowled and clutched the boxes possessively, making Rouge smile again. He could be such a little kid sometimes, but she preferred it infinitely to the grownup facade he liked to project.

"Alright, Sonic, now you can go." Tails sighed, with the air of someone who had almost given up trying to impose rules on a hyperactive toddler.

"Allllright!" the hero whooped, ripping into his gift with no mercy.

Once it was open, though, he frowned, seeing only a dark wooden box. "Uhhhh...what kind of present is this?"

Shadow leaned forward in anticipation. "Open it and find out."

Sonic flipped open the lid- and froze, eyes shining in shock and pure joy. "No way…" he breathed.

Tails's fur bristled. "Oh, no."

"What? What is it?" Rouge strained to see. "He didn't even tell us, what is it?"

Sonic grinned. "Candy!" he gasped, sounding like an excited little kid. "Loads of it!"

He turned the box around to reveal several rows of neatly stacked candy bars, including several 'extra large' ones.

Knuckles's eyes widened, the echidna having just gotten his first good look at the contents of the box. "Oh chaos…Shadow, he'll be bouncing off the walls!"

"Yes, but that's your problem, not mine." Shadow sounded sarcastic, but Rouge could see the happiness in his own expression- clearly Sonic's joy was infectious.

"Hold up- why's the bottom so loose?" the hero asked suddenly.

Shadow's smile became almost predatory. "Open it and find out."

Sonic lifted the tray...and his smile grew to rival that of the sun’s rays themselves. “Bro! Dude! You did not!”

“What?” Rouge shrieked, feeling irritated and left out.

“Dude, there’s, like, so much chocolate in here! Where’d you get all this??”

Shadow looked like he was physically forcing down a grin by now. “Places. Also, there’s no dark chocolate, so I’d better get a great thank-you card considering that I decided to cater to your trashy tastes.”

“Yeeeee- wait.” Sonic frowned. “Hold up, I don’t trust you just yet…” he said, glowering at the box. Apparently he was talking to the object, not the hedgehog.

He rattled the tray.

“What the heck, man?” The hero stared into the camera. “How much more is there?”

“You know what I’m going to say.” Shadow answered, raising a brow and looking pleased with himself.

Sonic lifted the tray very cautiously this time, as though there were a bomb underneath.

“Yo! Yo! Yo! You got- you got it, how’d you find this, where’d you get it? I saw it, y’know, on TV, but I thought it was a scam!! Dude! Is this real life??”

“Apparently,” Shadow said, finally giving in and smiling as proudly as he could, “foot-long candy canes are in fact a product that you can buy. Consumer culture has truly come a long way.”

“A foot long?” Omega asked, looking far too interested to have any healthy thoughts about it. “Show us.”

Sonic reached into the box, mumbling something about how his face was starting to hurt, but he didn’t look upset in the slightest. He pulled out a candy cane that was as long as his leg, letting out a little giggle as he did so.

“Look at this! Holy chaos, it’s so big!” He held it up to the light and stared, his eyes bright. “What the- it’s literally, like, the same distance round as my arm!”

Rouge cackled. “I need to get some of that, hon!”

“No.” Sonic hissed, but he was still smiling. “Mine...all mine…” He began to pet the candy cane, cradling it in his arms, and Rouge heard a soft snicker to her right, where Shadow was.

The blue hero had clearly heard it as well, his head snapping around to the camera in time with Rouge’s to see Shadow hiding a laugh behind his hand.

The bat noticed that Sonic’s jokes were more effective than Shadow let on...

As it was, though, they had to say goodbye soon. “We’ll see you guys tomorrow for the party, right?” Sonic asked hopefully.

“Of course. We would not miss it.” Omega folded his arms. “How could you ever think so low of us.”

Tails giggled.

“Well…” Knuckles said reluctantly, “I...guess we’ve gotta go for now.”

“Us too,” Rouge muttered. “People are gonna start a search party if we don’t head down soon.”

“See you tomorrow, right?” Sonic added hopefully.

“Yes.” Omega confirmed. “Tomorrow. When I will get a cannon.”

“I’ll make sure to do it ASAP!” Tails chirped.

“...happy Wintersweek.” Shadow said, far more warmly than usual.

After another round of well wishes, Rouge shut off the call.

Immediately, Shadow took his treasure and escaped into the bathroom, while Omega began to pore over his blueprints, probably processing (read: fantasizing about) how best to integrate the cannon into his fighting style.

Rouge flopped back onto the bed and sighed, a small smile remaining on her face as she played with her necklace. Shadow and Omega had both looked so happy...and she felt great, too.

Chaos, she was getting sentimental. A far cry from her early hardened days with G.U.N.

Far better than those times, too, she decided. Far better.

...

It was the Final Dinner Of The Family Reunion, and Rouge was so ready.

Everyone banded together in the kitchen throughout the afternoon, slicing, basting, cooking, and otherwise handling food to prepare a fantastic, show-stopping feast that all of the family would be talking about for weeks. Rouge had needed to fry, bake, and mash different kinds of potatoes and sweet potatoes, set up a casserole, make half the macaroni and cheese, prep some kind of gravy...and she got a light load.

The best part was when Omega was roped into helping and ended up wrist deep in a bowlful for crickets mixing them with seasoning, she had to admit.

Shadow didn’t give her any dirt at all (something she was still sulking about a little), just generally being quiet and going exactly where he was needed when he was wanted most, sometimes even showing up right before someone called for him.

Rouge groaned internally. It was some weird sort of Ultimate Lifeform stuff, she was sure. (His quiet, antisocial nature probably meant that he wanted attention to be called to himself as little as possible, too.)

But now, her mood took a sharp turn for the better, as the food was finally ready. She practically launched herself into the dining room, vaulting over the back of her chair to sit down.

This was the hardest part, though.

Now, the bat had to literally sit on her hands to keep herself from tearing into the food that was right in front of her. The smells of the various different dishes floated through the air, many of them were placed perfectly within reach, and they looked so good…

And she couldn’t touch any of it until every. Single. Person. Sat down at the table.

“Ugh…” she groaned, attempting to vocalize her discomfort to her companions.

Sadly, when your best friends/idiot brothers are a robot who doesn’t need to eat and a hedgehog who barely needs to eat, you get absolutely no sympathy from either of them. Immature and rude. She huffed quietly to herself.

Thankfully, the promise of a giant meal brought everyone together quickly, they all raised their glasses, and then-

Slamming her glass down, Rouge snatched a serving spoon millimeters from another bat’s fingers. Shadow and Omega watched, their faces morphing into something akin to an awestruck expression as the table exploded into chaos. Rouge filled her plate through sheer cunning and- in one case- a vicious staredown and tug-of-war for control of the meat knife (which she won).

“Remind me never to get between her and food, Omega.” Shadow whispered behind her back.

“Affirmative.” the robot muttered.

Several minutes later, Rouge’s plate was filled to her liking and she began to devour her food, as did the rest of her family. Some of the relatives who were significant others, not related by blood, watched with an equal mix of fascination, morbid curiosity, and horror as the bats at the table scarfed down the food as though there was no tomorrow.

Eventually, Shadow took some food, but Rouge didn’t look at what. She had more plans in mind for the other member of Team Dark.

When Omega turned his head for a couple of minutes to display the various hilarious robotic spinning motions he could perform, Rouge snagged several pieces of food and rapidly arranged them on his plate.

The robot returned to the table to discover a giggling Rouge, a smirking Shadow, and several slices of meat, some green beans, and artfully placed ketchup that, among other things, formed two circles on the top of the placement and an omega logo on the upper right part of one of the meat pieces.

Essentially, it was a food Omega.

Rouge had expected some irritation on his part, a shout of “THIS LOOKS NOTHING LIKE ME”, perhaps, but instead Omega took several pictures.

He fiddled with his phone for a few minutes (tiny phone + giant robot hands = lots of difficulty), before sliding it over to the bat.

All of his profile pictures, on every social media site and all of their group chats, were now displaying the same image as his plate.

“Yes! He appreciates art!” Rouge yelled, showing Shadow, who promptly snickered behind his hand.

“Excellent. Let’s go hang it in a museum.” he remarked dryly.

The rest of the dinner passed relatively without incident (although one of Rouge’s uncles and one of her aunts had to be pried off of the fruit platter after both refused to let go).

When dessert showed up, however...things changed.

The main creation that Rouge’s mothers had brought out was a three-layer chocolate cake made with lots of icing. Various other sweets surrounded it, and Rouge noticed several members of her family looking at it with a near-vicious gleam in their eyes.

She was definitely surprised- but pleased- to see Shadow’s reaction, though.

He stared at the cake like it was a Chaos Emerald and he’d just fired a few hundred Chaos Spears without a break. Rouge grinned as she saw him lean forward slightly in his seat, never breaking eye contact with the sweet confectionery.

“You like that, hon?”

Shadow jolted back to reality, clearly unaware that he’d just been eyeing the cake with an expression normally reserved for feral lions when they’d spotted a particularly plump zebra.

“It seems...well made.” he conceded.

“Okay, so in Shadow-speak that means ‘I want some and I want it now’.” Rouge corrected, smirking at his indignant expression even as she turned to her mom. “Hey Mom! Can Shadow have some cake over here? A big piece?”

Within seconds, a large slice of cake was handed over and Shadow was left speechless. He blinked, then picked up his fork and poked it once, as though he expected it to disappear.

“Are you going to eat it? You can’t do that with your eyes, you know.” Omega remarked from Rouge’s other side.

Shadow glowered at him and stabbed the fork into the cake, bringing up a piece and shoving it contemptuously into his mouth. The glare faded the second he tasted it, though, his eyes widening again.

“What’s in this?” he asked, the moment he’d swallowed his slice. (Rouge cursed to herself again at the loss of teasing material. Maria had really taught this guy his manners when he was young...)

“It’s nothing much, honey.” Rouge’s mom said warmly. “It’s just a lot of chocolate and cocoa.”

“It’s amazing.” he said quickly, before turning his undivided attention back to the cake and scarfing it down in a manner that made Rouge proud.

Halfway through the piece, the younger bat grinned at him. “See? You’re practically related already.”

Shadow looked like he didn’t know whether to scowl or keep eating, so he settled for a rapid glare in between bites.

Rouge laughed for a full five minutes after that.

…

Late at night, after her shower, Rouge walked back into their room only to see Shadow sitting upright, his silhouette framed by the rays of the moon. Omega was still awake, too, just two red circles of light showing and the rest of his body shrouded in darkness.

“You two okay?” she asked carefully.

“I’ve been thinking…” Shadow said quietly. “...about how much you’ve had to do for us. You single-handedly built this team up from the ground, even as Omega kept on going off to do his own thing and I dealt with...various issues. I wish there was some way I could express...how much...” He trailed off, clearly unable to find the right words.

Rouge felt a big smile grow on her face. “Awww…” she said gently. “I did this because I wanted to, don’t you know that? Sure, I wanted you two to stop fighting, and sure, I figured it just made sense at the time, but in the long run...we really work well together, you know?”

Omega spoke up next. “Regarding what you said yesterday, Rouge...I do believe that I am better off with you two than alone. Mostly because it enables me to achieve my-

“-actually, forget that. Never tell anyone else that I said what I am about to say. Or…or else. I have, for a while, had one goal: to destroy Eggman and his inferior creations. However...I have also had, for a somewhat shorter amount of time, a second goal: to...protect and...help, in whatever way they require, my...teammates, or friends, or siblings, whatever you call it.”

He had trailed off into mumbling by the end of it, clearly disliking how much his little speech had contradicted his usual ‘big bad robot’ personality.

The only noise after that was a high-pitched ‘aaaaaaaa’ from Rouge.

Shadow smirked faintly at her reaction. “Do I need to make a dramatic announcement as well?”

“Shut up.” Omega muttered petulantly. If the robot could scowl, Rouge knew he’d be doing so.

“No, hon. Only if you want to.” Rouge said to Shadow, ignoring Omega’s comment.

“Then I suppose…” He clutched one inhibitor ring for a moment. “....I will simply say that I am...happy. Here. With both of you.”

After a couple minutes of comfortable silence, Rouge and Omega both made their way over to the middle of the room, where Shadow’s bed was. Somehow, they worked it out so that all three sat on the mattress and the bat and the hybrid each leaned against one of the robot’s sides, their arms meeting around the back of his metal casing.

It would have made a strange silhouette if anyone could have seen them then, a spiky head and a bat wing the only defining features next to the bulk of a giant robot. But they didn’t give a single thought to how anyone else viewed them.

They were good for each other, even if nobody else had the sense to realize it. All their rough edges and jagged pieces from their pasts just meant that they understood what it was like to go through difficult times and come out the other side.

All three had been alone at some point.

But none of them would have to go through that again.

And Rouge decided on something as she leaned against Omega, her hand on Shadow’s arm.

The family you find is just as important, and just as real, as the one you’re born with. Many people have one but never the other, but Rouge realized that despite all the terrible things she’d been through…

...somehow she’d been lucky enough to have both.

#team dark: a holiday special #team dark #rouge the bat #shadow the hedgehog #e 123 omega #hope you enjoyed!#hopefully the ending conveyed the right amount of emotion #i'm bad at endings #thanks again to everyone who read this!#i hope that you have a happy holiday (whichever one you celebrate)#and a great winter!#*blows confetti*#sol's fanfiction

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nikki-writes-stuff · 5 years ago

Text

Sweet As Sin (Part Two)

Summary: After losing your job and having to spend all of your savings, you find yourself completely broke as you desperately search for a job. On a whim, you join a website for sugar babies and sugar daddies can meet, and you’re surprised when you immediately make a connection with Captain America, of all people. But as you grow closer to Steve, you start to realize that there may be a dark side to America’s golden boy.

Pairing: SugarDaddy!Steve Rogers x Reader, with eventual Dark!Steve Rogers

Read part one here!

Read part three here!

You stared at the man in front of you, your eyes narrowed and your hands planted firmly on your hips. Your mouth had been opened for a few seconds now, but no words had come out of it, and you eventually let it snap shut without uttering a word.

“…I can understand if you’re upset,” Steve started. “I really do. I wanted to tell you, it’s just-“

“You,” you interrupted. “…are Captain America, correct?”

“Um…” Steve rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean… Yes? But I don’t, you know… I don’t want you to see me like that. I’ve liked being just ‘Steve’ to you.”

You nodded your head.

“I… I’m not mad,” you assured him, and his shoulders visibly relaxed. “I just… I’m a little shocked, I suppose.”

“That’s completely understandable,” he assured you. He set his hand on your shoulder, leaning down a bit as he looked into your eyes. “How about we get some breakfast and just…talk for a little bit?”

You gave him a small smile, still reeling from the surprise, and nodded. He flashed you a small grin before leading you to the counter, keeping his hand on your shoulder the entire time. You felt your cheeks heat up, and you didn’t even notice that you were leaning into his touch.

Steve let you order first, and you got a blueberry-cinnamon bagel with your favorite warm drink. Afterwards, Steve ordered an everything bagel with a coffee for himself and paid, not even giving you an opportunity to take out your wallet.

“I could’ve-“

“Doll,” he interrupted. “I take care of you.”

Afterwards, the two of you went back to his table, and you sank down into the seat across from his. For a moment, the two of you just looked at one another, and after a beat you both looked away and chuckled.

“I… This is a very strange experience for me,” you giggled. Steve nodded and fiddled with a packet of Splenda that had been laying on the table.

“I can imagine,” he murmured. “But… I want you to know that I’m really glad you came to meet me; you’re even prettier in person.”

You shook your head and looked away.

“I…can’t believe that America’s heartthrob just called me pretty,” you joked.

“I really wouldn’t consider myself a heartthrob.”

“How about a dreamboat?”

“Ah, no.”

“…Sex symbol?”

Steve’s cheeks were bright red within seconds, and his head tilted back as he laughed.

“I mean… I wouldn’t mind if you considered me to be all of those things,” he chuckled. “But I’m still not really used to all the…fame. I guess. That sounds really self-absorbed now that I put it that way-“

“No, I don’t think so,” you assured him. “I mean, I just saw you on the news last night. Any time someone’s on the news I think they’re at least some level of famous. …It also doesn’t hurt that you have your own action figure.”

He laughed again, trying to rein in his chuckles when the waitress came back with your breakfasts. You were slowly feeling more comfortable with him – as you watched him devour at least a fourth of his bagel in one huge bite, he was becoming less and less of a world-famous hero and more and more the Steve you’d been talking to online. Down-to-earth, polite, funny. Old fashioned, of course, but now that you knew who he was and what decade he was born in, it seemed to be expected.

“So,” you said between bites, “how was Moscow? I imagine that it was hard to enjoy the culture what with the uh…bombs. And all.”

Steve smiled and sipped his coffee (black, you noticed, with no sugar) before answering.

“From what I saw, it was beautiful,” he remarked. “I’d like to go back there sometime on vacation. Whenever I’m able to snag one, at least. And the food was really good; spicier than what I’m used to, but good.”

“Do you have a favorite kind of food?” you asked, leaning your chin on your palm as you listened to him.

“Uh…” He thought for a minute. “Lasagna is pretty good. I grew up in the Depression, so I only got to eat it on special occasions. My mom used to make it for me on my birthday.”

You smiled.

“I would love to make it for you sometime.”

“If you did that, doll,” he grinned, “you’ll never get rid of me.”

“Who said I wanted to?”

He blinked, furrowing his eyebrows.

“You mean… You still wanna continue this, uh…thing we have going on? You’re not mad that I didn’t tell you who I really am?”

You took a bite of your bagel, turning over his words.

“Well, I can see where you were coming from,” you assured him. “Although… Just a tip for you, next time you meet a girl online, don’t wait to spring your real identity on her at the first date.”

“Hopefully, I won’t meet another girl online, but that’s only if the one I’ve already found sticks around.”

You grinned and sipped your drink.

“I don’t think she’s going anywhere any time soon.”

_________

You yelped as you felt hot tomato sauce hit your tongue, and you hurried to take a sip of water to soothe the burn. You blew on the spoon and tried again, and a smile stretched across your face from the taste; it was delicious.

With a grunt, you pulled the heavy lasagna out of the oven, and you smiled at the sight of the gooey mozzarella baked overtop of it. You’d been nervous about cooking for Steve at first, but now you were feeling more confident in what you’d made.

You’d spent hours at the bagel shop, just talking and laughing with one another. Before you knew it, he’d been getting a call from Tony Stark (the Tony Stark), and through the shouting on the other line you’d gathered that Steve was late for some kind of Avengers meeting.

“I’m sorry, doll,” Steve had apologized. “I didn’t even realize the time; I have to head in for a debriefing. I’m so sorry to cut this short-“

“Don’t be,” you’d interrupted. “I had…an amazing time with you, Steve. This might just be the best date I’ve ever been on.”

Steve had smiled so softly, so genuinely, at you, and you’d had to look away before you melted into a puddle at his feet.

“You really mean that, doll?” When you nodded, he’d reached across the table and let his hand rest over yours. “Then I’ll have a tough act to follow next time, won’t I?”

“We’ll have to wait and see. When can we do this again?”

That had been two days ago; Steve had informed you that he would be busy with “business” for a while, but the two of you had been texting almost constantly during the day. At night, he would call you and talk until your eyelids felt like they weighed a ton each. But you didn’t mind; the best way to fall asleep was to the sound of his voice.

Today, though, he’d called you in the morning, and when you’d picked up the phone you’d been afraid of him telling you that he’d been called out on another mission. To your elation, however, he only wanted to ask if you were free that evening.

And so now, you were standing in your kitchen in your best dress, checking once more over the food you’d prepared. A salad and some garlic bread were already resting on the table, and by the time he arrived, your lasagna would be cooled down enough to eat. Your hands fluttered up to your hair, making sure it was still pulled into the neat style you’d wrangled it into, and you fought the urge to run back into your bathroom to check yourself in the mirror again.

You felt your heartrate spike when you heard a knock at your door, and you forced yourself to take a deep, calming breath before walking over to open it.

Roses were the first thing you saw on its other side; the deep red blossoms were tied together in a beautiful bouquet, and if the sight of them wasn’t enough to make your toe curl, then the man who was holding them certainly was.

Steve’s hair was brushed into its signature neat look, and he was wearing a soft blue button up with a charcoal grey tie. His muscles bulged against the fabric, hugging him tightly as he straightened up and smiled down at you.

“Hey, doll. You look beautiful.”

Your cheeks were on fire as you ushered him into your apartment, and you took the bouquet of flowers into your arms when he held them out for you.

“Steve, these… They’re beautiful,” you gushed. “Thank you so much. God, I hope I have a vase for them…”

You scurried into the kitchen, searching through your cupboards and cabinets until you were able to locate a vessel to put the flowers in. All you had was a large pitcher that you hadn’t used since the previous summer to make lemonade in, but it was the only thing big enough to hold the huge bundle of roses.

“You have a, uh…real nice place, sweetheart.”

After placing the flowers in some water and setting them on the table, you turned to see Steve standing with his hands in his pockets, looking around at your space. It really wasn’t an impressive apartment, and you’d never deluded yourself into thinking it was, but it seemed even more drab and small with Steve standing in the middle of it.

His eyes were trailing along the ceiling, and you looked up to the various water stains dotted across it. You bit your lip and followed his gaze as it flitted over the old futon that served as your sofa, into your matchbox kitchen, and then further past the doorway to your bedroom. Your full-sized mattress took up most of the space, and you carefully positioned yourself in front of him so he couldn’t see any more of your poor furnishings.

“It’s not much,” you admitted. “But it’s enough. I’ve never been one of those people who feel like they need a big, nice house to be happy. I’m perfectly fine here.”

Steve smiled fondly and nodded, leaning down to peck your cheek.

“I know, doll. That’s one of the things that I like about you.”

You grinned and looked away bashfully, still able to feel his soft lips against your skin. You wondered what they would feel like against your own, and for a brief moment the image of Steve kissing you flooded your imagination.

“U-um… I made your favorite!” you hurried to say. “Lasagna. I hope you like it; if you don’t, we can always order pizza. Or there’s a Chinese place just-“

“Doll?” he interrupted. You paused in your ramblings and looked up to see one of his eyebrows raised in amusement. “I’m gonna like whatever you cook, ok? I’m sure its fantastic.”

You felt a fluttering in your chest, and for a moment all you could do was look into his kind eyes. He was so sweet; how had you gotten lucky enough to have someone like him interested in you?

“Well… Go ahead and have a seat,” you told him. “I thought we could start with some salad?”

“Sounds good to me.”

Steve folded his tall, broad frame into one of the two dining chairs you owned, and you reached over him to grab the empty glass resting next to his plate.

“Would you like some wine?”

“I’ll have some if you’re having it.”

You smiled and walked into the kitchen, pouring each of you a glass before coming back to him. As you leaned down to put his glass back on the table, you saw him glance at your cleavage out of the corner of your eye, and you had to bite back a satisfied grin. The neckline of your dress had been one of the reasons you’d chosen to wear it – it wasn’t deep enough to be obscene, but it gave off a classy, subtle hint of what lay beneath.

Steve’s eyes popped back up to yours sheepishly as you sat down at the chair across from him.

“See something you like, Captain?” you teased. You were just joking around, but your pulse jumped when you saw the dark look that appeared on Steve’s face.

“Maybe I do, doll,” he purred, leaning one of his elbows across the table. It swayed with the movement, and his sultry look was quickly replaced with one of surprise.

“Oh, sorry,” you chuckled, pouring dressing over your salad. “It does that. One of its legs is all wobbly, so just be careful with it.”

“I could try and fix it for you,” Steve offered. “I used to fix stuff for my mom all the time growing up. Or I could just buy a new one for you.”

“You don’t have to do that! Honestly. I make do with what I have just fine.”

“But I don’t want you to just ‘make do’, doll. I want you to be well taken care of.”

“I promise it’s fine, Steve,” you smiled. “But you’re sweet to offer. Now tell me about how work has been over the past few days. I know they’ve been keeping you pretty busy at the compound.”

After that, Steve and you talked about his job, if being an Avenger could even be called that. From what you gathered, Tony had been teasing Steve incessantly about texting you all the time; Steve had even found him trying to unlock his phone so he could see who he was talking to.

“He’s not gonna leave me alone until he meets you,” he chuckled. “Tony keeps trying to get me to introduce you to the team.”

“I mean, I definitely wouldn’t be opposed to that. I don’t think anyone would pass up an opportunity to meet the Avengers.”

“Well, you say that now, but just wait until you have to spend an evening listening to Bucky and Sam fight like an old married couple.”

“Are they really that bad?”

“Doll, name a topic, any topic, and they’ll find a way to have a disagreement about it.”

You were nervous when it came time to serve him his lasagna. You scooped out a slice at least twice as big as your own for him, and you were on pins and needles as you watched him bite into it. But you really had no need to feel worried; the moan he let out upon tasting it was borderline pornographic.

“Doll, this is… amazing.”

“You mean it? You don’t have to just say what I want to hear.”

“Baby, this might be the best lasagna I’ve ever tasted; stop doubting yourself.”

You’d been too flustered from hearing him call you ‘baby’ to say anything else for a few minutes, but you found that, when the two of you were done eating, you didn’t want him to go just yet.

“Hey, Steve?” you asked hesitantly. “Would you like to stay and watch a movie with me or something?”

He’d smiled and placed his hand over yours on the table.

“I’d love that, doll. But first let me help you clean up.”

He stood up, taking his plate into the kitchen, and you hurried to do the same.

“Oh, no! Steve, you don’t have to do that! Just leave it in the sink and I’ll take care of it later.”

He’d arched an eyebrow at you, taking your plate from your hands and setting it with his in the sink. He ignored your protests and turned the faucet on, reaching for the dish soap after rolling his shirt sleeves up.

“You were kind enough to cook for me; it’s only fair that I help clean up. How about I wash and you dry?”

You did as he said, an almost goofy smile on your face as you dried the dishes before putting them away. He was so polite; you were almost convinced that he’d been created in a computer.

“What’s that look for, doll?” he asked, handing the last glass to you.

“You’re just… I really like you, Steve.” You put the glass away and turned to him with a smile, drying your hands off on your towel. “Thank you for coming over tonight.”

He took the towel from you and dried his own hands before setting them on your hips.

“Sweetheart, there’s nowhere I would rather be,” he murmured. He leaned down, his nose almost brushing yours, and you were sure he could hear how fast your heart was beating. “I know it might be a little soon, but…can I kiss you?”

You laughed, taking hold of his tie and pulling him down, closing the gap between your lips. He kissed you gently with a smile to match your own. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your chest against his as his hands slid up your back. When his tongue darted out, seeking entry into your mouth, you gladly parted your lips for him, not able to hold back the tiny moan you made as you felt his tongue brush against yours languidly.

Both of you were breathing heavily when you pulled away, and you gasped when you felt your leg brush against his hard cock. You bit your lip as your fingers played with his hair, dragging your nails softly against his scalp.

“I… I know that it’s impolite to ask on a second date,” he murmured, “And if you don’t want to, then its completely fine. But could we-“

“Steve?” You leaned up, pressing your lips against his ear. “Please make love to me.”

You let out a squeak when you felt him pick you up, and you clung to him for dear life as he carried you into your bedroom. He was gentle when he set you down onto your feet though, and he had an almost reverent look on his face as he reached down to grab the skirt of your dress.

“Can I take this off of you?” You nodded, lifting your arms up to help him get it off. You were wearing your nicest set of lingerie, and even though you’d got it from the bargain bin at Victoria’s Secret, you felt stunning as Steve’s gaze raked over your body.

His fingertips traced the hemline of your panties, toying with the sky-blue lace before making a path up to your bra. You bit your lip as he cupped your breasts, rolling them in his palms. Meanwhile, you were undoing his tie, sliding it out of his collar and letting it fall to the floor beside your dress. As he reached behind you to unclasp your bra, you popped open his buttons, one by one, until both of your chests were bare.

“Sheesh, doll,” he breathed. “You’re so gorgeous.”

“You’re not too bad yourself, Captain.”

That same dark look from before crept into his eyes, and suddenly you were in his arms again, clinging to him as he lifted you onto the bed. Your head hit the pillow, your hair splaying out wildly as he kneeled in front of you. An impressive tent had formed in his trousers, and it took all of your concentration not to lick your lips as he started pulling them off.

When the both of you were back to just your underwear, he leaned down to kiss you again, resting his weight on his forearms on either side of your head. This time, his kiss was insistent, rough, and it sent waves of anticipation down to your core. Your lips were slick as he pulled away, a string of saliva connecting them to his until he looked down. His large hands cupped your ass, kneading the flesh before gripping the lace of your panties, and you gasped as you felt the fabric being torn away from your body. You were about to complain, but before you could, Steve leaned down, his beard tickling the insides of your thighs as he pressed a kiss to the top of your mound.

“I’ll buy you another pair just like them,” he promised, tossing the useless lace behind him.

Any words you might have spoken died on your tongue when you felt his finger brush against your slit, running up and down your entrance.

“You’re so wet, doll,” Steve sighed. “Tell me how bad you want me.”

Your fingers gripped his hair as he leaned down, tongue gently brushing against your clit. You keened, spreading your legs as wide as you could for him as his thick finger penetrated you, curling against your walls as he licked slow, delicate circles around your bud.

“I-I want you so bad, Steve,” you moaned. “Want you to make me cum…”

“I will, sweetheart. Don’t worry.” You gasped as he added another finger, hissing a bit at the sudden stretch, but his tongue once more lapped at your clit, soothing the ache in your core. “Told you I’d always take care of you, didn’t I?”

You closed your eyes, relishing the sensation of his tongue lapping at your bud. Your hips were moving of their own accord, rising and falling in time with the thrusts of his fingers. They kept brushing at that spot deep inside of you, turning all of your thoughts into white noise. The noise of the traffic outside faded away, as did the sensation of your sheets rustling against your body. There was only Steve; all you could hear were your moans and the lewd sounds of his tongue gliding against your flesh. Your pussy was clenching around his fingers, trying desperately to draw them in deeper, and you were so wet for him that there was no pain when he added a third. You just knew that you wanted more; you were so close to your peak, so desperately close.

“Steve-!” You panted, pulling his hair as your hips rolled upwards. “Captain, please, please-“

He groaned, flicking his tongue one last time over your clit, and you were gone, your back arching painfully as you found your release. You were barely aware of your own broken moans as you rode out your climax, your body slowly turning into putty as his tongue gently worked you through it. You lay limply against your mattress, only moving when your pussy became too sensitive to his touch. You tried to pull away from him, to close your legs, but he held you firmly in place, ducking down to lap at the cum leaking out of your entrance.

“Fuck, baby, I could spend an eternity between your legs,” he mumbled. “Taste so fucking good. You’re just sweet inside and out, aren’t you?”

You hummed, smiling lazily up at him as he crawled up your body. His beard and lips were slick with your juices, and you could taste yourself on his tongue as he kissed you. His hands slid up your thighs, gripping and kneading at the flesh of them.

“I’ve thought about this since our first phone call, you know,” he whispered, tracing a path with his lips down the column of your throat. “It’s been a long time since I’ve like this about a dame.”

“I feel it, too, Steve.” You smiled, tightening your legs around his waist and flipping him onto his back. “It’s like we’re…”

You paused, reaching down to lace your fingers through his.

“Connected.”

He smiled, lowering his lips back to your neck, and you let out a moan as he started to suck a hickey into it. You rocked your hips, grinding your pussy against the bulge in his boxers, eliciting a choked-off moan from him.

“Please, doll,” he whispered. “I’m so hard for you – please…”

You rose up on your knees, gripping his boxers, and his hips lifted to help you tug them down. Your eyes widened at the sight of his cock – you’d never taken anything that big before, not even when you got adventurous with your toys. You gulped, looking back up to Steve, who held a small smirk on his lips.

“It’s ok, sweetheart,” he assured you. “We can go slow.”

You nodded, rising up on your knees again, gripping him in one hand and guiding him towards your entrance. You bit your lip, looking up at him one more time. He was watching you, tenderness glittering in his eyes. You took his hands, placing them on your hips, before slowly sinking down onto him.

“O-oh, my god-!” You whimpered at the feeling of him stretching you, letting your forehead rest against his. You took a deep breath, sliding down further until you felt him brush against your cervix.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured. “Just like that. Knew you would feel perfect.”

You moved your hips, wincing at the sensation, but the look on Steve’s face was enough to keep you moving. His moans sent shocks of electricity straight to your pussy, and you felt the pain start to blend beautifully with the pleasure he was bringing you.

“Steve…”

You sighed, starting to roll your hips in a fluid rhythm, bucking against him. His hands came up to cup your breasts, teasing your nipples with his thumbs.

“O-oh, baby,” he grunted, starting to rock his hips up. “Yes, fuck-“

You whimpered, moving your hands to the headboard behind him. Your arms bracketed his head as you used the leverage to keep thrusting your hips, bouncing up and down on his cock until the bed was shaking beneath you.

Suddenly, though, his hands wrapped around your hips and flipped you over, pounding into you as you yelped in surprise.

“Sorry, doll, it’s just-“ He grunted, gritting his teeth together. “Fuck, I just can’t help myself.”

You nodded, hands coming up to grip his hair. You pulled it roughly, arching your back up until his chest was pressed to yours. His thrusts were hard enough to knock the breath out of you, and the springs in the mattress screamed in protest.

After a particularly brutal thrust, you felt something underneath you give way, and you gasped as the bed slouched on one side, sliding the both of you to the left. You caught yourself against the bedsheets, looking over Steve’s shoulder; the man had broken one of the legs of your bedframe.

“I… Shit, doll, I’m sorry-“

You broke out into a fit of giggles, covering your face with both of your hands as you laughed.

“Oh my god, Steve, it’s ok. Please, don’t stop fucking me.”

He grinned, chuckling under his breath before starting to move his hips again. Your laughs soon turned into moans as he once more started hitting that spot inside of you, and you let your eyes close as you felt your pleasure starting to crest once again.

“Steve, fuck, I’m gonna cum-“

“That’s right, baby,” he groaned. “Cum for your Captain.”

You gasped, clawing down his back as you bucked against him, chasing your release desperately.

“Captain! Captain, oh my god-!”

Your lips parted in a silent wail as you came, your pussy spasming against him. You felt his breath, hot on your neck, your name falling out of his lips over and over again as he grew closer to his release.

“Come on, Captain Rogers,” you moaned, biting your lip. “Cum inside of me.”

He needed no further convincing; within a few seconds, you felt him spill his hot seed within you. His eyebrows were pinched together, his hips stuttering in their rhythm, lips parted in a long, low groan.

He was beautiful.

The two of you lay there, catching your breaths, for a long moment. Your sweaty skin stuck together, and you felt his cum leaking out of you around his cock. When he finally did pull out of you, you both let out a hiss of sensitivity.

Steve rolled over onto his back, pulling you against him with an arm around your waist. You looked up, sharing a smile with him, before you shifted your focus down to the dip in your bed.

“You…you really did break my bed, didn’t you?”

He laughed, and you could see a faint, red stain grow over his cheeks.

“Yeah… Yeah, I guess I did,” he sighed. He pressed a kiss to your temple, squeezing your hip. “I’ll buy you a new one tomorrow, I promise. And a new dining table.”

“Steve, no, I don’t need a new table.”

He looked down at you, cupping your chin and tilting it upwards to him.

“Hey, listen to me doll,” he murmured. His voice was warm, but it had an underlying stern edge that made your eyes widen. “I wanna take care of you, and you’re gonna let me, ok? Let me spoil you; even if you don’t technically need it. Understand?”

You gulped and nodded, and a pleased smile spread over his face.

“Yes, Steve.”

“Good girl.”

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #sugar daddy!steve #sugar daddy!steve Rogers #captain america #captain america x reader

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userarchive · 5 years ago

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Unexpected Circumstances, Ch 1

Rating: 18+. Warnings: Language, talk of the job, sex trafficking, smut in future chapters. Summary: Sonny Carisi x Reader. Sonny thought you were dead for the past 7 years, the truth starts to come out as you turn up in an SVU interrogation room. A/N: I did give the reader a name in this one, just to further accent moments of nicknames vs first vs last names used, but the rest of it is all written as a reader insert.

••

It was a hot night in June and the SVU had busted a sex trafficking ring, there were barely any underage girls, but it seemed to be a good bust so far, they’d arrested a number of pimps, John’s, Martha’s and who knew what else. You, however, were stuck in an interrogation room, pacing back and fourth waiting for a detective to actually show up. You were annoyed to say the least, having already ruined your night, someone really should have at least come in to start questioning you, some common decency, you thought.

Carisi had not only been frustratingly called in in the middle of the night, much to his dismay, but he walked into the precinct hoping for somewhat of an easy case, which it clearly wasn’t going to be. It was late, SVU at least thought they knew what they were doing, Olivia briefed him on the case, pointing out the specifics of who they figured they had in the rooms already, mainly John’s, people who had something to make a deal with as soon as someone started to question them. He only heard about half of what she was telling him, his mind clouded with the fog of sleep, trying to focus on thinking clearly. When they got to interrogation 3, his heart nearly stopped. Sonny took a moment to view the scene behind the glass, his eyes absorbing as much as he could, his chest felt tight, shocked tears nearly sprung into his eyes, though anger boiled in his stomach, he didn’t know how to feel, every emotion coursing through his veins. There was no way it could be her, right? Liv barely noticed the change in him as she rattled on about the sex ring, his ears pounded, not hearing a word the captain said, his palms felt sweaty, his gut felt sick, and his heart ached like he never knew it could. The woman on the other side of the glass was pacing slowly across the room, clad in a skin tight hot pink dress, a deep neck line, and the highest of leg lines, her feet in a pair of matching stilettos, she looked frustrated to be there, and a moment later, there was nothing stopping him from bursting into that interrogation room, not even Olivia’s surprise, emotion had taken over, he had no control anymore.

Your head shot up when the door finally opened, “Fuck.” You thought your stomach dropping when you saw the man in front of you, you felt like you might puke, might cry, you might scream, you’d known this had potentially been a possibility, but you had hadn’t prepared yourself for this. You were supposed to stay in different jurisdictions, but the moment Manhattan came into play things changed slightly, once he became an A.D.A. things were supposed to run as normal. You held back a sob, not prepared for the million emotions running through your brain, shame, love, sadness, anger, you nearly felt tears in your eyes as the man approached into the room. 10 years of handling rather stressful intense situations, and you had absolutely no clue how to deal with this, how to cope.

Sonny was silent, slowly taking you in, as if you were some kind of mirage, which, considering the circumstances, made complete sense, his heart hammered in his chest, there was no way this was real. He felt tears spring into his eyes as he tried to deal with the thousand emotions coursing through his body. He stuttered slowly, trying to form a sentence as you tried to coerce some kind of truth out of your head.

“It’s really you?” Sonny finally spoke, the words barely a whisper thinking that something too loud would scare you away.

“Dominick…” You trailed off, not even knowing quite what to say to keep him from going off the rails.

“”Sophie…”

“Yeah…” You replied, looking down at your heels, guilt reeling through your veins. His face was a mixture of anger and sorrow, and a little bit of delight, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint the main emotion.

“You’re alive.” It was a monotone statement, you gave no response. You knew he was the A.D.A. working Manhattan Sex Crimes but you didn’t think they were gonna call him in at this late hour, you’d hoped to have a little time to reappear literally anywhere but an interrogation room. “It’s been YEARS,” Sonny stopped abruptly maybe giving you a chance to defend yourself, maybe trying to figure out what angle he was going to work and when your heart clenched, and you barely choked out a vowel, he started his assault. “How dare you!! Ya’ wanna explain what the fuck you were doin’ in the middle of a sex trafficking ring? They said YOU’RE in charge?! You been workin’ with them for years, you’ve sold and bought girls, you’re a fuckin’ criminal!” Anger seemed to be the primary emotion that he decided to go with, clearly he’d heard at least part of what Benson had said.

“What do think I was doing Dominick?!” Your anger started to show, blood boiling in your veins, your brain clouded with the thought that Sonny could actually believe the hate he was spewing. Fighting like this, when emotions were as tense and high as they were was never a good idea, anger met with anger never ended well. “Seriously, you’re going that route, you think I’m fucking criminal?! REALLY?!”

“So? WHAT?” Carisi was right up in your face, which egged you on even further, it was only a matter of minutes before you were both yelling in Italian, “Ya’ decide ta walk out on everything and go….go, live the hard life, ruin your entire career just to be some drug addicted whore, fuckin’ your pimp every night?! THAT’S the life you wanted? You’re a disgrace Soph, no better than your low life of a father!” Carisi was beyond angry, and you were past the point of thinking straight, the comment about your family was too far, too close to home, Sonny knew exactly how hard you’d worked to differ yourself from their life, how you’d left before they could suck you into all of their demons, escaping out to Staten Island to finish off school. You didn’t even realize your hand was moving until it hit Sonny square across the face, he tried to wrangle your hands behind your back, but you were faster, wrenching his arm behind his back, pushing his torso in the interrogation table. Within seconds, Benson and Fin were in the room, you raised your hands in defeat, backing up from Carisi.

“Chartreuse.” You stated clearly, partially annoyed at the interruption, partially relieved you could finally clear things up.

“What?” Fin cocked an eyebrow in confusion.

“It’s the colour of the day.” Liv replied, you nodded towards her, dropping your hands to your sides.

“Detective Sophie Montgomery, badge number 37852.”

“What unit?” Benson wasn’t going to let you go that easily,

“Staten Island Vice as of 7 years ago, got transferred to Manhattan SVU about a year ago,” You gestured down to your outfit, “For obvious reasons, I couldn’t exactly show up at the precinct. Talk to Captain Campbell, he was my check in despite the transfer.”

Carisi stared back at you with a complete look of disbelief on his face, his stomach in knots, his brain not even knowing what to truly think. He wanted you to answer a million questions, but not here, not with everyone at SVU around. He knew you’d been gone, but some part of him always believed that you weren’t actually dead a sliver of hope for him to hold on to. 7 years was so long, but he’d clung on, praying that, somehow, you’d been alive the entire time, even though he knew how unrealistic it was, but as it turned out, his hoping and praying was right. He also felt like a complete idiot for getting so enraged at you, of course you were working a UC op! The first time he’d met you was at a party, arresting you while you were barely out of the academy. Though that didn’t mean that he wasn’t conflicted, he was confused, and the anger still sat in his chest, trying to truly figure everything out. Benson sighed heavily, breaking his concentration before you spoke again.

“I need to keep my cover, please.” Your voice was much softer this time, sighing gently you gave Dominick a subdued glance the apologies glittering in your eyes, before your detective voice came out again, “We had a bust that was going to happen next month, we had everything planned and now you’re going to have to wait six months until the ring leaders come out of hiding.” You nearly scowled at the detectives, “Put me back in holding. I’ll spend the night there, Alejandro can think I’m arrested and I’ll report for duty as soon as I can in the morning Captain.”

Olivia glanced between all the detectives in the room quickly, before nodding to Fin, “Alright, bring as much information as you can, we’re gonna need everything you can give us to charge these guys.”

“Thank you.” A satisfied smile swiftly graced your face as you turned around to be put back in cuffs before Fin led you out of the room.

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stardustndice · 5 years ago

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——A Fire Exit. A Sword-Fight. An Overdue Discussion.

Part 2 of 2 of an FBI AU Obi Wan Kenobi x Reader Story. Read Part 1 Here.

a/n: It’s finally here! I’m so sorry this took so long, everyone. I’ve been so busy figuring out plans for my freshman year of college and I graduated high school! Very exciting. Anyways, please enjoy the final part, I’m very proud of it. Props to @hellotherekenobi for spawning this fic. Couldn’t have done it without ya.

tag list (either you asked to be tagged or I like your writing a whole lot): @kaminobiwan @karasong @morganas-pendragons (if you want to be tagged in future fics, lmk!)

warnings: mention of blood, minor violence, some hot stuff near the end ;)

“Because she isn’t you.”

You thought it was impossible to have the air knocked out of your lungs without having been pushed onto the ground. Evidently not.

Your heart feels like it’s about to tear itself out of your chest and blood is rushing to your cheeks as thousands of possibilities sprint across your thoughts. Every time you’d seen him in the past, scanned his face, or gazed at him when his back was turned, you always assumed he didn’t feel the same way, that you didn’t deserve someone so kind, so hardworking, so passionate about protecting the innocent. To your surprise and excitement, you were wrong.

Another shriek from the hostage wrenches you out of your daydreaming. The Negotiator steps into view of the abductor, but not before nodding at the collection of terrified patrons huddled near the bar and meeting your eyes. You get the gist and begin to step towards them, avoiding the neon spotlights shining from the ceiling. Scanning the room quickly, a fire exit catches your eye on the other end of the bar, just a short distance from the room Orwen expected you to ‘service’ him in.

“Rheva, I need you to talk to me,” you hear Kenobi say calmly. His shockingly calm demeanor when negotiating never fails to shock you but you still feel an ounce of worry at his seemingly nonchalant tone in these situations. “What happened?”

You can’t afford to turn around as you begin leading partiers out of the exit. You don’t want to know the possible carnage that could ensue in the event that such a delicate position is compromised.

“You think I’m an idiot, Kenobi?” someone sneers, you assume Rheva. “No one wears a fucking suit and tie to Kina’s, not unless they’re looking for something.” You hear an exasperated sigh from your partner and you suppress a giggle. As they continue speaking, a Togruta gives you a look of shock, probably at your giggling during a hostage situation. You shoo him to the exit. Once everyone besides a few stiff, armed guards remain, you turn to see how Obi Wan is doing, moving silently until you’re merely a few steps behind him.

“I know you’re looking for me. You and your pretty little friend,” Rheva spits, gesturing to you with her knife. At this point, the hostage, a girl who looks to be in her early twenties, is hysterical. Tears are streaming down her face and she’s frantically looking between you and Obi Wan, desperate for eye contact. Despite his deescalation expertise, you see Obi Wan tense slightly at Rheva’s not-so-fond nickname for you.

“Rheva, we’re looking for Sarek, not you. Has he done something to you?” Obi asks softly, cautiously taking a step forward. Almost imperceptibly, Rheva starts to shake, her grip on the knife becoming weaker. Both you and your partner notice. Your partner’s patience is thicker than yours, though, as he spots you itching to quickly diffuse the situation.

“He can’t...if I tell you, I’m dead!” she shrieks. Obi Wan’s brows furrow. This is new information. If Sarek has been telling whomever he sleeps with about his plans, then you’ve had everything you need without even knowing it.

“Tell us what?” you chime in, taking a step to stand at Kenobi’s side. You hear a clatter behind you and you turn quickly, pistol drawn. A trandoshan hisses and licks his fangs, the last thing you glimpse before someone hits you in the back of your head and the world goes dark.

Someone poking your cheek gently rouses you into the conscious world. You groan lazily until a harsh slap hits your cheek. At that, the world rushes into your brain like ice water dumped on a drunk sorority girl. After several rapid blinks to clear your cloudy vision, you whip your head towards the source of the hit.

Sarek grants you a sinister grin, his lizard tongue darting out to sound a signature trandoshan hiss. It doesn’t take long for you to realize that your hands are tied behind your chair with zip ties. A spark of hope flies in your chest.

Sarek will regret not using handcuffs later.

It’s not long before that spark is snuffed out and replaced with a venomous anger. A grunt sounds from behind Sarek and your eyes dart away from his pale golden eyes. Obi Wan is in the same predicament, although his left eye is now outlined in a garish, swelling plum. As your blood boils you look around for an escape route. Nothing adorns the dusty concrete walls besides cracks and mold, so you assume however Sarek entered the room is out of your line of sight.

“Maybe your friend isn’t as tight-lipped as you, Kenobi,” Sarek drones, and you wrench your head away when he drags a claw down your jaw. A cry escapes you when he grasps your hair and yanks your head back towards him. It’s truly painful, though, when he steps aside, still holding your hair, to show your partner. When you make eye contact with him, ashamed, his eyes widen and his mouth opens barely, only to be replaced immediately by an angry mask. “Don’t touch her, Sarek.”

“And why not? What exactly are you going to do about it tied to a chair?” Sarek giggles maniacally, his back to you but you’re sure he’s baring his teeth grotesquely.

As quietly as possible, you begin to shimmy your hands, now in fists, out of the zip tie. It stabs into your wrists, but adrenaline and determination push you to keep pulling and twisting. Your partner notices your efforts and focuses on Sarek. He takes a leap of faith.

“We have Kaiela.”

For a moment you pause, your head shooting up to raise a shocked brow at Obi Wan, but he doesn’t return your gaze, and you quickly resume your task, praying that his risky bluff won’t get the both of you executed. You’re not too worried; Obi Wan has a 100% success rate at life-or-death mission improv thus far.

“If you let us go, we’ll give you two a happy little reunion,” Obi snarks. Time passes as Sarek stares down at Obi Wan, who huffs a strand of hair out of his eyes, all the while maintaining Sarek’s gaze. You’ve nearly wrangled yourself out of the zip ties when Sarek’s cackle makes your heart drop. “Oh, Kenobi, you handsome idiot,” he drawls and leans forward, whispering loudly “she’s with me.”

Everything happens at once. The zip ties snap apart and you lunge for Sarek right as he turns to smirk at you. His smile vanishes and you deliver a powerful blow to his solar plexus and he crumples gracelessly to the ground. Your eyes narrow when you notice an empty sheath for a small knife on his waist and look at Obi Wan. The world screeches to a halt for the second time tonight when you see a knife sticking out of his stomach. You spring up to inspect his wound and he winces when you touch the handle. Taking it out would make matters much worse. “Christ, I’m glad you never became a doctor,” he mumbles while you snatch another knife from Sarek’s inventory.

“We don’t have much time. He’ll only be out for another minute or so. We have to leave. Were you conscious when he dragged us in here?” you ask. Obi Wan nods and looks somewhere behind you. Once you follow his gaze after cutting him free, you see a large metal door. It takes some effort, but you manage to help him limp out the door only to groan upon seeing Sarek’s garishly-decorated office. A gold chandelier hangs from the marble ceiling and plush fur rugs are piled on top of each other in a seating area by the exit, you assume to whatever ‘jail’ the two of you were dragged here from. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer a view of the starlit harbor, the ocean peacefully rolling into wooden pillars holding up the dock.

Halfway across the room: that’s how far you get before you wince upon hearing a metal slam and reptilian growl from behind you. You’re surprised when Obi Wan stands on his own to turn to Sarek, determined. Sarek, however, is not nearly as composed. Both of you sidestep Sarek’s messy charge, but you tense when he quickly pulls out...a sword? If it wasn’t for your partner slowly bleeding out and how painful your heels are getting, you'd laugh, but Sarek holds the blade to Obi Wan’s throat and backs him into the burgundy wallpaper in front of you.

By the grace of the gods, you spot an atrocious-looking display to your left, holding a gaudy and intricate broadsword. The rug helps muffle your footsteps, and the sword smoothly slides out of its mount. It’s surprisingly light and you whirl around to see Obi Wan struggling to push Sarek away. With all the strength of an MLB pitcher, you hurl the broadsword into the wall to his right. The blade sinks into the wall with a solid thunk and the practically-bedazzled handle wobbles back and forth next to Kenobi’s head. He then offers a sly grin that releases a cage of butterflies in your abdomen and yanks the sword out of the wall and brandishes it out in front of him. Sarek leaps back in the nick of time, nearly getting sliced in the belly.

You suddenly get an odd feeling of déjà vu.

Stress festers in the pit of your stomach as you watch Obi Wan and Sarek dance around each other, composing a metal rhythm as they lunge for the other’s vital organs. Sarek’s knife is still lodged in Obi Wan’s stomach and you fidget. “Please be careful,” you yell halfheartedly over the clanging, “You do remember your stab wound, don’t you?” Obi Wan glances over at you for a split second and gives you a cheeky grin. “Are you sure I’ve been stabbed? I hardly feel a thing!” he puffs, ducking under a particularly clumsy swing from Sarek. You roll your eyes but the duel escalates quickly when the exit bangs open harshly, and in piles an assortment of trandoshans, each of them wielding a firearm of some kind.

A snicker sounds from Obi Wan’s opponent. Kenobi drops the broadsword and backs away from Sarek and his rapidly-advancing cohorts. Tension has clogged the room at this point. It’s silent until Obi grabs a heavy-looking vase and unceremoniously chucks it at the window. Before you know it, he’s wrapped an arm around your waist and takes one, two, three steps and leaps out into the air above the water. You shriek and clutch at the back of Obi Wan’s suit jacket, shutting your eyes tight and bracing yourself for the icy plunge.

It never comes. Instead, a loud thump rattles your bones and forces your eyes open. The first thing you notice is that Obi Wan is still holding onto you. More importantly, he’s rubbing circles into your back to try and help you relax. You scramble gracelessly off of him and look around. A consistent dripping noise echoes around the space and you discover that somehow you’re in an open space under Sarek’s office, which was sticking out from the building and over the water like a sore thumb. Your eyes trace a long black wire leading from the edge of the building to your location. You squint at Obi Wan. “There’s no way you could’ve known that wire would be there.”

He chuckles. “I was fully prepared to go for a swim before I spotted it. It would’ve been a pity to ruin such a nice dress.” You stick your tongue out at him and he softly jabs you in the waist, eliciting a very mature squeak from you. Once he winces from laughter your face softens. “Let’s get you to a corner store and grab a first aid kit. If you’ve gone this long without passing out from blood loss the knife must not have punctured anything vital,” you tell him, gently touching his abdomen. He’s silent and you look up at him to see him...avoiding your gaze? You realize you’re still touching him and jerk your hand away like you’d just burned it.

“Are you worried about me?” he laughs, beaming. In retaliation (and to hide your glowing cheeks), you move to support Obi Wan and begin to lead him out towards the street, purposely looking as far away from him as possible.

“We can buy a first aid kit at the corner store and perhaps grab a bite to eat at Dex’s?” Obi Wan suggests. You nod and the two of you walk/limp to your destination.

On the sidewalk outside of Dex’s Diner, Obi Wan sits patiently, waiting for you to bring out food. You both had decided not to eat inside the restaurant and scare the customers with Obi looking so banged up. You’d carefully cleaned and stitched up his wound, and all the while he stared down at you, bewildered by your concentration and skill.

He’d come to terms with his feelings a long time ago, only now he’s scared you don’t feel the same way. You’d always treated him like a brother, as much as it irked him sometimes. Too many times you’d come very close to catching him gazing lovingly at you while you cut down mobsters and the like. It was becoming more difficult by the day to keep his heart from tumbling out of his lips, to keep the dam shut.

His chest clenches as the memory of your pained and frightened face in Sarek’s grasp resurfaces. It cleaved straight through his soul. At that moment, he gives himself a task: he’ll make sure that you never have to be that scared again, even if it kills him.

He is torn from his thoughts when the bell at the door of the diner chimes and you take a seat on the curb beside him, a hand offering him a Shawda club sandwich. He groans in happiness and you laugh, watching him dramatically savor the first bite. Peaches and purples swirl together in the sky as the sun begins to peek over the horizon. Its rays are cut into pieces by towering skyscrapers and buildings, the pieces hitting the sidewalk around you. The moment is peaceful but you have something to get off of your chest, you just don’t know how.

“Obi Wan-”

“I-”

You both startle. You gesture to him to speak and all at once the words he was going to say are absent from his tongue. An awkward pause fills the space between you.

“What I said at Kina’s...I wasn’t lying,” he says firmly. “I’ve never met anyone who comes close to you. I’m sorry if you don’t feel the same way but I need to tell you this before something happens to me again. You’re everything to me. You’re strong and capable and you deserve the world. I just hope you can settle for me.”

When you don’t move his heart sinks into his stomach. His hope tarnished, he begins to ramble. “If you don’t want to work with me anymore, I understand. I just hope we can-”

The defeat laced in his voice breaks you out of your shocked stupor and you whirl around, planting your palm on his mouth. He quiets, his eyes searching yours for an explanation. You press your forehead to his, giggling from relief and the last of your adrenaline. Your hand falls to cup his jaw, his beard soft under your fingers.

“Shut up and kiss me, you reckless dork.”

Obi’s face splits in a grin as he finally kisses you, pulling you closer at the nape of your neck and his other hand tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Your other hand is splayed on his chest as you break for air and you initiate the next searing kiss, tugging him with both hands by the collar of his torn dress shirt. You hear his muffled chuckle at your unbridled enthusiasm.

You push him away to make sure it isn’t some kind of twisted dream, but you’re instead greeted by a rather attractive sight. Obi Wan is panting, his cheeks dark and one button undone on his dress shirt, revealing his collarbone and the top of his chest.

“I’m offended that you called me a ‘reckless dork’ when you just aggressively made out with me,” Obi Wan snarks, grinning.

“Oh shut it, you loved it.”

“I suppose it was alright…although it wouldn’t hurt to practice.”

#Obi Wan Kenobi x reader #fanfiction #star wars #Star Wars prequels #star wars the clone wars #Star Wars AU #fanfic #Obi Wan kenobi #ay it's Dex #userxkara #writing #obi wan #Obi Wan x reader

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citrinekay · 5 years ago

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ooh! i was just thinking of a fic where holden has been running a fever all day and keeps trying to work through it even though it's obvious he's miserable. cue protective bill dragging his ass home and putting him to bed. later on, when holden wakes up, bill is wrapped around him, and holden feels real warmth and bliss for the first time in his life. i figured you'd be the perfect to ask bc all of your writing is utterly beautiful!

This is so sweet! Here you go:

It starts as a headache and a nagging fatigue that doesn’t improve even after Holden sleeps for twelve hours each night over the weekend. By Sunday night, his throat is hurting, and an annoying cough tickling the back of his throat keeps making it worse. On Monday morning, he swallows down some Ibuprofen and shoves a handful of cough drops in his pocket.

It’s just a cold. He thinks, ignoring the exhaustion tugging at his limbs as he drives into work. I can work through a cold.

Arriving in the BSU basement, he drops down at his desk with a heavy sigh, and rubs both hands over his face before turning to his messages. Bill comes out of his office a few minutes later to grab a cup of coffee, and Holden acknowledges him with a forced smile.

“‘Morning. Is Gregg here yet?” He asks, nodding at the empty desk across from him.

“Nope. Called in sick.” Bill says.

“Oh. It must be pretty serious, then.”

“The flu, I think.” Bill says, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

He pours in no less than five sugars before approaching Holden’s desk again. Holden can feel his gaze bearing down on the back of his neck, silently assessing him.

“You good?” Bill asks.

Holden glances up from the case file in front of him - the police report he’s been staring blankly at for the last few minutes - and musters a cavalier reply. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just sound a little hoarse, that’s all.” Bill says, “I hope you don’t have what Gregg does.”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Okay.” Bill says. His eyes are wrinkled with lingering concern, but he lets the conversation go.

Holden sighs as Bill retreats back into his office. Despite the cup of coffee he’d had this morning, he still feels unbearably tired and a dull headache is beginning to grip his temples. He grits his teeth, and glares over at Gregg’s vacant desk, silently wishing he would have called in sick too before quickly squashing the thought.

His parents had always been strict about illness and school attendance. If he didn’t have a fever or was throwing up, he was in school. And if he complained or tried to make out his condition to be worse than it was to avoid going, his father would bark at him to “suck it up.” The frame of thinking is too ingrained to call in sick for a headache and a little bit of a cough.

Holden turns his attention back to the case file in front of him that he’s supposed to be formulating a remote consult for. He has to wrangle his mind to focus on the details a few times before he can start retaining the information and arranging it into a suitable analysis.

For the next few hours, Holden toils over the single case file. His thoughts are sluggish and disjointed, the details of the murders swimming in the fuzzy haze inside his brain. The headache that had started out in his temples encompasses his skull, and the pain is radiating down his back, working into the joints as if his ligaments are being slowly ripped apart. He doesn’t realize that he’s shaking until his jaw begins to ache from clenching his teeth so hard.

He pops a few more Ibuprofen, and takes off his jacket. The basement is usually on the colder side, but he’s sweating underneath the taut collar of his shirt.

Around eleven, Wendy comes out of her office, and asks everyone to meet in the conference room so that they can work on the analysis for the study. They finished up the interviews a few months ago, and all that’s left is synthesis and publication. The analysis is currently in outline form with bullet points in three-ring binders that they each have a copy of. Holden pulls his binder out of his desk, and gathers himself with a deep breath before heading for the conference room.

Bill sits down next to him, and lights a cigarette. The smoke curls from the burning tip, fumigating the air with the sharp odor of nicotine. Holden closes his eyes as his throat tickles and his lungs constrict. Unable to suppress the reaction, he coughs into his elbow.

“Are you okay, Holden?” Wendy asks.

“Yeah, fine.” He whispers.

He catches Bill’s sideways glance as Wendy clears her throat and launches into a summary of what they’ll be discussing today. His brow is furrowed with a concerned frown, and his eyes keep wandering from Wendy.

Holden rubs his fingertips across his forehead, trying in vain to massage away the dizzy haze and the dull ache. Wendy’s voice fades out of focus, melding into the high-pitched buzz gaining volume in his ears. His whole body feels like it’s balanced on white-hot pins and needles, alternating between flashes of hot and cold. And then, as if he couldn’t feel any worse, a wave of nausea hits him in the pit of his stomach.

Do not throw up. Do not throw up. But the desperate mantra only seems to encourage the nausea churning in his belly.

Holden opens his eyes to see his fingers wrapped white-knuckled around the arm of the chair, visibly shaking. He leaps to his feet.

“Excuse me. I need to go to the bathroom.”

Wendy pauses from her spiel. Everyone glances up at him, confused and concerned.

Holden bolts out of the conference room, and staggers across the bullpen. He shoves past the door and into the hallway where the temperature is only slightly cooler. His stomach clenches, threatening to deposit his breakfast on the grimy tile, but he swallows it down forcefully. Making his way down the hallway to the bathroom, he slips inside where the harsh, paneled lights overhead cast his sallow pallor in white.

Holden leans over the sink, and cranks the faucet on cold. Cupping his hands under the faucet, he splashes his face with cold water. The shock of the cold water seems to cut past the nausea, so he stays bent over the sink, rubbing it across his burning cheeks until the urge to vomit abates.

Behind him, the door squeaks open, and thuds shut again.

Holden slowly lifts his head from the sink, and peeks up at the mirror.

Bill is standing behind him, his brow creased with a frown, his mouth set into a narrow line.

“This doesn’t look like ‘fine’.” He says when Holden turns off the water.

Straightening from the sink, Holden grabs a handful of paper towel with trembling fingers, and presses them to his face. When he dries his face and balls the towels in his fist, he opens his eyes to Bill’s stern gaze.

“It was just a cough this morning.” Holden says finally, his voice a meek, raspy whisper.

“Well, it’s more than a cough now.”

“I know.”

“You look like shit. Are you going to puke?”

“No.” Holden says, tossing the napkins in the trash can. He turns to brace his hands against the sink, and lowers his head.

“I think it’s time for you to go home.” Bill says.

“But Gregg already called off, and-”

“Come here.” Bill says, his hand already closing around Holden’s elbow.

Holden’s eyes spring open as Bill pulls him gently around to face him. He opens his mouth to argue, but Bill cradles his nape, and presses the back of his other hand to Holden’s forehead.

“Jesus, you’re burning up.” Bill says, his eyes flashing with concern.

Holden closes his eyes as Bill’s knuckles shift down his temple and against his cheek. The caress is cool and gentle, soothing the waves of heat rolling up and down his body. For a moment, he forgets how badly every inch of him is aching.

“Come on, I’m taking you home.” Bill says.

“What? No, I can drive myself-”

“You’re in no condition to drive.” Bill says, “What if you get sick on the way home?”

“No, Gregg is already out, and without me and you that would just leave Wendy and the interns and-”

“Holden.” Bill says, firmly.

Holden glances up tentatively to meet Bill’s somber gaze. “What?”

“Shut up, and do what I say.”

“Okay.” Holden whispers.

“Come on, let’s go.” Bill says, his voice softer this time.

They walk slowly back down the hallway to the BSU offices. Bill ducks back into the conference room to let Wendy know what’s going on while Holden gathers his things from his desk. While he’s relieved that Bill is taking the decision out of his hands, there’s still some part of him that feels guilty for not being stronger. If he’d felt just a margin better, he might have been able to argue about working through it, but he’s feeling on the verge of a collapse.

“Come on.” Bill says, nodding for Holden to follow him as he strides across the bullpen.

Holden follows him out to the car, and they quietly climb inside. Holden sinks down against the seat as Bill steers them out of the parking lot and down the road.

“When’s the last time you took a sick day?” Holden asks, peeking up at Bill’s stoic profile focused on the road ahead.

“I don’t know.” Bill says.

Holden frowns. Does he get sick? Ever? He doesn’t want to sound silly by asking, and even sillier by comparing their tallies. It’s not a competition, he can hear his mother saying. Not everything is a goddamn competition. He just wishes he could be an unmovable rock the way Bill is.

Once they reach Holden’s apartment building, Bill walks them to the elevator with a hand curled tightly around Holden’s elbow. It stays there until Holden lets them into the apartment, and Bill steers them directly to his bedroom.

“Put your P.J’s back on, and get in bed.” Bill says, “What medicine have you taken today?”

“At least four Ibuprofen.”

“Okay, so none of that for a few hours.” Bill says, “You need to get hydrated since you have a fever.”

“Bill, it’s okay. Thank you for taking me home, but I can take care of myself from here. I’ll be fine once I rest and-”

“What did I say?” Bill interrupts. His tone and gaze are stubborn, brooking no argument.

Holden shuts his mouth. He changes into his pajamas while Bill retrieves a glass of water from the kitchen. When he comes back into the bedroom, Holden is snuggled down under the sheets. The suffocating heat has turned to chilled shivers.

Bill sits down on the edge of the bed while Holden gulps down the glass of water.

“You’re shivering.” He says, his tone dropping to a concerned whisper that Holden has never heard before.

Holden sets the glass on the nightstand, and wipes his mouth. “I’m really cold.”

Bill reaches out to feel Holden’s forehead again. His palm is warm and big, covering Holden’s forehead and temple.

“It should start breaking soon.” Bill says, “Here, lay down.”

His palm guides Holden’s head down against the pillows, but it lingers, thumb running through the sweaty curls at Holden’s temple.

Holden resists a moment before closing his eyes, and allowing the sensation to soothe the pain gripping his temples and joints. Bill’s fingers sift through his hair and down against his neck, between his shoulder blades, rubbing gently.

The shivers gripping Holden’s insides linger, but he’s so exhausted that he can’t keep his eyes open any longer. He falls into a fitful sleep where it’s dark and silent, yet his mind is still fighting against the severity of the illness.

He wakes up some time later to utter darkness. Hours must have passed, but he can’t remember them. He isn’t shaking anymore. He’s curled up in the fetal position with the covers tucked under his chin, and his body is warm and relaxed. Warm breath tickles his nape, alerting him to the weight clinging to his back.

Holden comes fully awake as realization washes over him. Bill’s body is cradling him, keeping him close with an arm wrapped securely around his chest. Under the sheets, their legs are entangled. He can smell Bill’s aftershave.

A cold slice of panic cuts through him, and on impulse, he thinks of extracting himself from Bill’s embrace and fleeing the bed. Maybe it’s the lingering haze in his brain, or the threat of reviving his headache by moving that keeps him still. Maybe it’s something else, something deeper, something buried low in his chest where he shoves all the tiny, flinching things that long for everything he thinks he hasn’t earned. He’s too sick to tell, but he relaxes down into Bill’s arms before he can reconsider.

In the silence, a distant siren wails out into the night. Holden counts the seconds while he lays still, absorbing the weight and warmth of Bill’s body. It seems like an infinitely long time before the ambulance comes and goes, its scream fading away until it’s all quiet again, and there’s just the rhythm of their breaths matching up. For a while, the rasps of their breaths is all he can hear. He keeps thinking he should move, or at least try to put a little bit of space between them. Each time the thought arises, he tells himself he’ll enjoy five minutes more. Then five minutes - or what he thinks might be five minutes according to the swollen, syrupy seconds of nighttime - passes, over and over again. Finally, he feels himself drifting off again, too content to follow through. Right before he hits dreamland, he thinks he’s never felt this warm, but he’s already asleep before his logic can tell him that it’s only the fading cusp of a fever.

#bill x holden #mindhunter #my writing #Anonymous

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orderofindomitus · 6 years ago

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Running Events

Many women contact me and ask my advice on running BDSM events. I have run many events in my career so far from general fetish parties to private femdom parties, wild CFNM parties, The Order Of Indomitus which is a 3 day event, and Eden, also a 3 day event which takes place at a private beachfront mansion. I have a lot of advice to give for people who want to try to run an event themselves, from my own experience personally running events, as well as attending many other events that went great and also went sour that were run by other people.

KNOW YOUR KINK THEME INSIDE AND OUT. Is your party themed? Is it CFNM? Is it a slavery event? What kind of event are you throwing? If you do not have an expert grasp on the theme of your event, you are not going to be successful with that theme. You cannot do 30 professional sissy sessions and run a sissy event successfully, or run a slavery event without understanding slavery inside and out. People have had parties and events turn terrible when they do not have a deep understanding on what it is that they are trying to do but only a very surface grasp on what it is, or no grasp at all. Do you understand that many people can be sissies but have different ideas of what that is and means for them? Not everyone in every “theme” is the same type of submissive. Do you know how to structure your event to allow for diversity within your theme?

In order for people to have a good time, you have to understand why they would want to come in the first place. What are people looking for? I went to an event once that was full of public humiliation that was not told to the subs who signed up beforehand, or the attending Mistresses. Not only did most of them find this to be absolutely horrifying, but some of them were scarred from it. I took an uncomfortable submissive out of the party myself and removed both of us from the awful situation to damage control this as best as I could and several other women there followed suit. The person who threw the event, did not grasp why this was not ok and when we tried telling her this, she didn’t want to listen. I went to one where randomly, everyone was put in a rubber maid outfit. This was not OK with most of the people there, as they were not sissy maids or into latex and they didn’t understand why they were all made to do this.

This is the number 1 reason why events/parties fail. Most often the person running them has barely any knowledge of the kink they are trying to do at the actual event.

DESCRIBE YOUR EVENT ACCURATELY. I have been invited to so many events and also entire destination trips which were nothing like what were described to me. I was not only disappointed, but so was everyone else, subs and Dommes alike. You need to be completely transparent about what people are getting themselves into, or else you are going to wind up with a lot of angry and upset people and waste everyone’s time and money. If someone does go to an event and they are not that happy with it, it is usually because despite the description, they thought they could handle it but it turns out they are not into that kink as much as they thought they were, or not quite into a group setting after all. You never want someone to attend and not have a good time because you are a liar, or because you are not describing your event enough to have someone make an informed decision on attending. BE HONEST and you will attract the type of people who are “all about” that kind of party, leading to EVERYONE having a good time and not just a couple of people.

HAVE SAFETY EXPERIENCE WITH BDSM ACTIVITIES. Can you spot if a sub is or isn’t have a good time from across the room just by watching a scene for a minute? Can you tell if someone is being put into a situation that would not be good for them? Is that rope bondage not done safely on that sub? How long has the guy in the corner had his arms above his head in that scene? Can you keep track of many people at once by glancing around and checking on them mentally, and tell if they are or are not having a good time or not? IF YOU CANNOT, you should never do a BDSM event. You can hire experienced Mistresses to help, but you still need to make sure that even those very experienced Mistresses are doing a good job. I went to an event where many women there were not experienced and the person running the show was not checking in on everyone. You could tell that a few people were not in happy situations and there was no one to check on that. Thankfully, none were dangerous situations, but they could have been. This is why the person running the show needs to be able to notice that everyone is having a good time and that everyone is safe, and do this THE ENTIRE EVENT by glancing around and checking in on everyone, even just from a distance.

HIRE ONLY VERY EXPERIENCED STAFF. Are you going to bring in a few pro Mistresses or lifestyle Mistresses to co-host things with you? Are they extremely experienced? Are they safe players? How do you know? We often let fancy imagery and video sale fame get in the way of our logic in terms of skills experience and safety. Women are hired to do events based on being HOT and not being skilled. You can have hot AND skilled, but being skilled, safe and sane is what you need over all. While you should have your eyes on everyone at all times, you also can’t put subs and slaves in the hands of idiots. Your Mistress co-hosts should be trustworthy, dependable, and genuinely happy to be there. They should be truly caring about the experience being fun and memorable FOR ALL, and not there for a paycheck, to have something to brag about, or there to show off in front of other women by how cruel or loud they can be. Hire experienced, reputable women, so all you have to do is glance around the room and see that everyone is having a good time, instead of running around like crazy having to put fires out and yank people out of scenes, and damage control all 30 people around you.

EXPECT TO NOT SLEEP. Get as much sleep as you possibly can, but expect to not have much. Noise, stress, anything can mess up your sleeping during your event if it is multiple days, or the night before your event. If you cannot run on little sleep for a few nights, you should not take on large multi-day events.

HERD CATS. If you are running an event, you have to be a bit of an organized person and keep everyone around you on-point. You have to keep your event guests on schedule in terms of being in a certain location for the event at a certain time-frame, and also if you have a staff, keep those ladies on-time as well. Sometimes professional Mistresses who are excellent players, safe, sane, and nice to be around, are not always organized and on-time, all of the time. You are often trying to round up people to be ready on time and at a certain place on time, or to wrap things up on time. This is not easy to do, and you cannot ever rely on people being places and ready at the times you tell them to. People chat and lose track of time, constantly. You need to be able to wrangle everyone and keep things running smoothly, even your staff of professional ladies.

STAY COOL UNDER PRESSURE. You can and will encounter things that will not go right, despite all of your efforts. Sometimes a Mistress and a sub clash personality-wise and someone misunderstands a command and takes it the wrong way. Many people in this life have some emotional baggage and in the BDSM world when under the pressures of performing as a submissive, a lot of these things come out at this time, unfortunately. People who have things going on back home, tend to bring it to the party emotionally, not meaning to. A divorce. A death. We deal with all kinds of things. A tiny thing at the event not going right, will suddenly send someone into a bad emotional downward spiral of pain. Can you calmly and effectively deal with a situation like that? Are you able to have a chat with someone and effectively calm down the situation and figure out what the best course of action is? Sometimes that is them taking a break from the event and getting their head together. Sometimes it’s them being OK and jumping right back in, and sometimes they simply shouldn’t be there at this time. Can you handle this happening twice at your event? Three times? Can you handle this on top of running your event based on everything I said above? If you can’t, you should not be running an event. Human beings are flawed and we go through bad things in life and we are all walking around with some sort of baggage. Be prepared for things to go wrong here as something can and will trigger these emotions to come pouring out.

SOMEONE BECOMING INJURED. Do you know CPR? Do you have a first aid kit? Know where the nearest hospital is? Do you know who would be available to take someone to the nearest hospital? Are you in tune with everyone’s health issues and medications they might be on? If someone sprained an ankle, can you handle keeping them calm and the party still going should a situation like that happen? What if someone started having chest pains? What would you do? If you can’t answer this, you should not be running a BDSM event.

PAY STAFF FAIRLY AND BE HONEST ABOUT THE EVENT. I have gone to many events where we were unpaid or the pay was very little. When the event was not as advertised to us, not one of us was enthusiastic to work the event and give it our all, because we were lied to and tricked into going to work something awful for almost no money, or NO MONEY! Always be honest to your staff about what they are going to get themselves into and pay them fairly for it. This way they never feel lied to, and they will always do a fabulous job for you, and will want to return!

HAVE A PLAN FOR YOUR STAFF. Have a plan for your staff for what you want out of the event and give it to them ahead of time. Then have time before the event starts to go over that plan so it’s fresh in everyone’s minds. Not having a set plan will lead to disaster.

ALLOW SUBS TO COMMUNICATE. Never make the subs or slaves at an event feel like they cannot come and tell you if something is wrong. When something is bothering them, it will only get worse if it cannot be resolved right away.

CHARGE REALISTICALLY. What are your paying guests getting out of the event? Is this fair with what you are charging? Being greedy will not get you very far as you want people to return again and again to your events and say good things about them, not that they paid a lot of money and felt ripped off.

PROVIDE A COMFORTABLE ENVIRONMENT. Air conditioning or heat at a good temperature for everyone. Cleanliness. Space. Nice atmosphere. Put yourselves in the mind of the person attending. Should they be wearing shoes? Would this floor hurt their feet from standing on it all day without supportive shoes? I went to an event where people were standing on hot pavement in mid summer burning their feet on the ground because they were not told they would be doing this and all let outside for the afternoon naked. There was also no sunblock.

DEALING WITH A WEIRDO/NOT SCREENING YOUR GUESTS. You should always screen your guests very well so you never have to deal with anyone coming who is a lunatic. What if someone slips through and is a lunatic despite your efforts? How do you deal with a mentally unstable person at your event? How do you get them to leave?

Never run something that could never have a handle on. It will potentially hurt someone, and it will ruin your reputation as a professional. If you are dying to do something, it’s always best to wait until you have a lot of experience and start small to see what it is that you can handle.

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mrsbenedictbridgerton · 8 years ago

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Not because I love you, just because I care (Part 5 of 7)

Her visa was up. He offered to help. That's what friends are for -right?

Also on AO3 and FF.NET

Leaving work early midweek was a luxury for Killian. Usually he found himself chained to his desk until at least 6pm, especially now that he had begun his new job and was getting up to speed with everything at Mills Media. As it was, this Thursday he had made it to the small block that housed his flat just after 5pm, with grand plans for a takeaway and an evening of trash tv.

Which was all fine and well until he actually reached his front door and saw his brother standing outside, a duffel bag at his feet.

“Liam?”

The other man turned, his face lighting up as he saw Killian. “I was just leaving you a note to say I’d be at the pub!” he grinned, tucking the notepad in his hand back in his jacket pocket.

“But… you’re here? Why? I thought you didn’t get leave for another three months?”

His brother shrugged, “I was needed ashore for a meeting and I managed to wrangle in a few days of leave into the bargain.” He took a step closer. “And I have a bone to pick with you.”

“You do?”

“What’s this bollocks about you getting married?”

Killian stared for a moment, his mouth open, brow scrunched as he tried to think of a suitable excuse for not telling his brother.

“Err…”

Liam smiled, “Look, I know we’ve had our differences since you came out of the service but I can’t deny I’m a bit hurt that you could do something like this without even telling me.”

“It wasn’t meant as a slight,” Killian admitted - which was certainly true, “I just… wasn’t sure you would understand.”

“That you had some whirlwind romance and got hitched?”

Killian shrugged. Liam was answering his own questions with surprising accuracy.

“Well I’m here now.” He placed a hand on Killian’s shoulder. “When am I going to meet my sister-in-law?”

Emma had kept a tactful distance from Killian since their wedding. Just enough contact - the odd dinner, an occasional text - to get the balls rolling on sorting out her visa situation but not enough to risk the return of any of the thoughts she’d had about him. That was too complicated even for her to figure out. Deciding you have the hots for a friend was always a little weird, but a total no-no when you’d just married them.

Luckily, they were both pretty good actors when it came to the few times they had been around their friends. A little hand holding, a chaste kiss or two - they were easily placated and other than that, things seemed to go on as they had before. Until Emma received a whispered phone call from Killian as she made her way home from work.

“Your brother? I thought he was on a ship in the Pacific ocean!”

“He was, but he’s been called back for at least a few days - some Navy business.”

“Okay, well, you’ll just have to keep him busy and away from the guys this weekend - I’ll come up with an excuse for Belle’s birthday party-”

“That’s just it. Bloody David had mentioned something about me getting married - I forgot they keep in touch - and now I’m getting the third degree.”

Emma sighed softly. “And he’s expecting me to be there. In your apartment.”

“We’re married, he’s assumed we live together.”

“Fuucccckkkk,” Emma groaned into the reciever, ignoring the looks of her fellow commuters. Of course after the wedding they had both went back to their respective homes - for appearance purposes they lived in Killian’s flat, but neither of them ever entertained visitors so it had been easy to keep up the pretence with their friends. But this was a different kettle of fish. She had no choice than to play along lest this whole thing blow up in their faces in quite spectacular fashion. “I’ll be there as soon as a I can.”

“Thanks love. I - I am sorry.”

The sincerity in his voice was actually really sweet. He was the one who’d gone the extra mile for her. Now she’d have a chance to pay some of that back. Kinda.

“It’s fine, we should have really planned for this. Don’t worry, he’ll believe I’m the best wife in the world.”

And boy did he.

From the minute Emma rolled into the flat (with her large-enough-to-hold-a-change-of-clothes-without-raising-suspicions-that-that’s-what-it’s-got-inside-it bag) she had been charm itself. She’d hugged Liam tightly, telling him how excited she was to meet him and teasing Killian that she might have chosen the wrong brother.

Killian had ordered his desired Indian takeaway, but enough for three, and they had chatted over the food. Liam asked a million questions that Emma answered with grace - being sure to keep a hand on Killian’s shoulder or leg. She’d perfected her loving stare into his eyes and the perfect moments to drop kisses onto his cheek that Killian was pretty damn sure that Liam could be in no doubt of their ‘love’.

It was an Oscar-worthy performance for sure, and Killian merely had to follow her lead and play the part of the smitten suitor - not exactly difficult under the circumstances. In fact, Killian wasn’t sure he had ever managed to pull the wool over his brother’s eyes with such effectiveness.

By eleven, Liam was showing signs of tiredness and jetlag, his eyes struggling to stay open. He bid goodnight to Emma before Killian took him through the the tiny spare room that he usually used as an office and prepared the futon in there for Liam to sleep on whilst he unpacked his bag.

“Killian,” he asked as the younger brother was placing a blanket over the bed, “There’s one thing I don’t understand. If you’d known this beautiful woman for so long why the hell did it take so long to ask her out?”

Pausing, Killian turned around. He thought a moment, before shrugging. “I’d never seriously considered it.”

“Really? She’s fantastic.”

Killian nodded. “I completely agree. And I see that more than ever now. But she was a friend and I didn’t want to screw that up.” That much was true - Emma was a friend and had became an even closer one over the past couple of months. He valued her too much to risk that and that’s why she’d always been off limits.

“Or maybe it’s sometimes hard to see what is in front of you?”

Oh, Liam had always been an insightful one.

Turning back to the futon, Killian smiled. “Maybe.”

So they were sharing a bed - again. But this time Emma wasn’t as tired and using sleep as an escape from the situation wasn’t an option. Instead she was thinking about what a great evening she had had while staring at the ceiling in the unfamiliar room

“You’re brother is fun,” she whispered once the lights had gone out.

“He’s a character.”

Emma smiled at his tone. You could hear the affection he had for Liam, even though he had spent a lot of time teasing him.

“I like him. You’re a lot alike.”

Killian chuckled. “So you find him devilishly handsome then?”

She shuffled uncomfortably, her feet pulling up to tuck under her legs. Every meeting she had had with Killian since the wedding had reconfirmed just how handsome and charming she thought he was.

“What?” he asked, a concerned tone to his voice that had her squirming even more.

“Nothing,” she hummed.

“Emma… Spit it out.”

She spun onto her side to face Killian, staring across the darkness at him.

“I was just thinking the other day - why did we never, you know, do anything before? I mean, you never hit on me and I know you’re not exactly a monk. David likes to regale Mary Margaret with tales of your exploits.” Emma cringed. Out loud that sounded a lot more pathetic than in her head.

“David has a big mouth. And exaggerates my prowess.”

He turned his head so they were eye to eye. He wasn’t smiling.

“I wasn’t trying to say you were, you know… Sorry, this was a stupid thing to bring up.”

But then his hand was reaching across the small chasm she had tried to place between them when she got into the bed.

“I did fancy you, Emma. Of course I bloody did.”

That nugget of information gave her pause.

“Maybe then I didn’t give off the ‘ask me out’ vibe.”

His hand found hers.

“I think it was because I valued your friendship. Friendships haven’t always come easy for me. I was a bit of an ass in my younger days and I’m trying to atone for it.”

“And a fine job you are doing.”

He sighed softly, “I think Liam still sees me as that stupid 25 year old who got kicked out of the Navy. Doesn’t help that I only see him in person about once a year. Hard for him to see how I’ve grown up.”

“I may have just met him but I think he sees you much more positively than you do yourself.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, his fingers dancing over Emma’s hand. She had to admit, she kinda liked him holding her hand.

“Killian, you’re a good guy. Accept it.”

Now that made him smile. Emma liked his smiles. (She liked being the source of his smiles.)

He cleared his throat. “About what you said. I have to confess, I wish I had asked you out.”

“You do?”

“When something is off the table you can realise what you are missing.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Had he been having the exact same thoughts as she had? Feeling brave (or stupid) she replied, “Is it off the table?”

In the half-light - she saw his eyebrows raise before he shifted a little closer to her.

“You tell me,” he whispered, tossing the ball squarely in her court.

Her breathing faltered in anticipation as she gave him a flirty shrug.

Clearly, that was enticement enough, and a few seconds later his lips were on hers, their legs were tangled, his hand was in her hair and hers were around his neck - he pulled her close by the waist until their bodies were flush and they became a heaving, mess of limbs-

Until Emma pulled away, taking a deep breath, the consequences of what they were about to do hitting her.

“Shit, sorry, I-” he mumbled.

“Don’t apologise, I encouraged you.”

They stared at each other for a moment more.

“This is a bad idea.”

“It is complicated,” he nodded.

“Your brother is next door,” she pointed out, her eyes not leaving his lips- “But I can be quiet…”

Then she was kissing him again, pulling one of his hands under her shirt and onto her breast as her teeth tugged at his bottom lip and her fingers dipped beneath the waistband of his pants.

“This is just a one time thing,” she panted into his ear as he tugged off her shirt.

“Sure,” he nodded, before disappearing to pressing biting little kisses down her body. “One time.”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading and reviewing this baby fic! BIG thanks to my beta and all around fab friend @nickillian

#cs ff #captain swan #cs au #cs ff au #fake marriage #Jill writes things

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