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buckybarnesdiaries · 3 years

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a piece of cake

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

Something happens at Shuri's birthday party that leads to a heated fight.

word count: 3k words. (fuck, it worth every damn word)

warnings/tags: nsfw, +18!!! angry jealous sex, let's start there. unprotected sex, oral sex (face fucking and ridding), fingering, brief daddy!kink, brief praise!kink, language, cursing, handcuffing, mention of bodily fluids, and probably i'm forgetting something else, i just lost my mind. bucky being the cutest and loving man on earth at the end.

author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

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You had never been so quiet, but you knew that opening your mouth only could cause a storm inside the car, on your way back home. Believing you could have a pinch of luck, Bucky wouldn't notice that something was raving you mad since the moment you watched him letting another woman give him a spoon of cake. Straight to his mouth. You almost choked on your drink, talking to Shuri about how excited she was to celebrate her birthday in New York, when you witnessed the scene hearing their laughs and watching how they dared to touch his metal arm constantly. Your boyfriend was talking with some of his old friends from Wakanda, not even knowing he made friends there. He never said a word about it. Even so, they didn't have the right to flirt with him. Unless he didn't say anything about you.

But Bucky wasn't stupid. Or at least, not like you thought. Gazing you by the corners of his blue eyes, he was conscious that something was going wrong. He licked his upper lip briefly, slowly. He tasted the waters putting a hand on your thigh, which was your favorite gesture while he was driving, deriving with your fingers laced and him placing kisses on the back of your hand. But you didn't move an inch, still staring through the copilot's window with your elbow nailed there and your chin resting on your knuckles.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing”.

Your passive tone and the lie as a response caused him to frown, pulling over the car to focus on you. He turned on his seat and placed a hand behind the headrest of yours.

“Spit it”.

You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow ironically, looking at him for a second. If he had to ask it was because he wasn't really seeing the dilemma there.

“I'm just tired and I wanna go home, James. That's all”.

James. James. You did it unconsciously, but he didn't take it as an innocent manner of calling him. Unexpressive, the soldier joined the highway driving faster than he used to. You had pissed him off, but it wasn't your problem. He had hurt your feelings with something he didn't give any importance to. The only thing you wanted was to take a shower, put on your comfier pajamas and go to sleep, probably you'd see tomorrow that situation differently than today and you could move on from your insecurities and the jealousy running through your veins.

You arrived at your apartment in record time, keeping the car inside the parking under the building. You removed the seat belt to wear your leather jacket and grab your purse on your feet, stepping out when you were ready. But Bucky stayed inside, just turning off the engine. He didn't have any intention of leaving it, maintaining his hands tightly gripped around the wheel. You ignored him as soon as you couldn't pretend you were just tired anymore. It was the first time something like that happened and you were having a strong desire to throw your guts up.

Three minutes later you were under the warm water with your forehead resting against the cold wall and your eyes closed. Maybe you were overreacting and the rational, mature behavior would be to go to talk with him, tell your boyfriend what made you feel upset. Sighing as you nodded two times, determined to put the cards on the table, you shut off the faucet and walked out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel.

“Oh, fucking hell!” You growled because of the scare of your life when you found Bucky already in your shared room.

He had his back supported on the wall, a leg flexed, and his hands behind himself. No expression on his face, but expecting an explanation from you. You were hoping for something from him too, maybe I don't know what I've done to make you feel like that, can you give me a clue? He just stared at you in silence, drying the pearls of water decorating your body before wearing a pair of black panties and your forgotten pajamas instead of one of his t-shirts impregnated on his scent.

“Com'ere”. Bucky whispered, stretching his flesh hand on air when you were about to go to sleep.

“No”.

Well, that wasn't the proper way to talk like grown adults. You crossed both arms on your chest, standing next to your side of the bed.

“What'd you say?” He squinted incredulous, slowly standing from the wall, pretending you hadn't uttered that word.

“I said no, you fucking punk”.

“The hell d'you think you're talking to, darling?”

“To the cretin who let other women flirt and touch him”. You replied with evident annoyance. “Why don't you go to show them your daddy's skills, uh? Sure I can find someone who respects me in the meantime”.

Suddenly, a grimace you hadn't seen before on him appeared like a thunderbolt. You weren't sure if you just made him feel more furious or if you just broke his heart. But before you could figure it out, Bucky shorted the distance between both in two fast strides and his hands gripped your throat and the back of your neck respectively, pinning you to the closest wall and tossing the lamp on your nightstand to the floor. You complained slightly —with his tongue wildly invading your mouth— because of the strength he used to put you against the wall.

You tried to push him away, to not fall into his charmings, but he made your mind blank when his fingers were firmly nailed in your ass and his body was accommodated between your legs. Your fiery provoked a bulge under his pants so painful that in every rock against your core he wasn't sure if it hurt or if it was some kind of pleasure he couldn't handle. Out of breath, Bucky attacked your neck, digging his teeth in your neck with so much passion that you screamed delighted his full name while pulling his hair. That gesture drove him insane, losing the less sanity he had at that point. With just a push, your boyfriend ripped off your shirt to strip you, in anticipation of your panties suffering the same fate.

Bucky threw you to the mattress on your abdomen, perfectly positioned to what was about to happen. He was so eager, so desperate for showing you what he was feeling that he didn't lose time taking off his clothes, just undoing his belt and unzipping his jeans to pull them down to his ankles along his boxers. You heard him spitting in his hand to use it as lube, although you were sufficiently soaked and ready for your Buck that neither of you needed his saliva. He rammed his dolorous erection into your cunt, crashing his pelvis and pressing it against your ass with all his strength, causing you to drown a loud cry in the sheets.

Tangling his fingers with yours and lacing your arms around your neck, putting all his weight onto your back, Bucky pounded you with an insanely quick rhythm, not giving you any chance to mold your throbbing walls around his length. Your pleased vocals echoed inside your room in total sync with the hits to your g-spot. Your body received with every one of them soft cramps mixed with pain and pleasure, making you roll your eyes and tear your throat.

“'S that wh— what you wanted, uh?” Bucky snarled against the back of your neck, totally gone, not giving you a break or showing any mercy.

“Fuck, no…” You replied, challenging him.

He swallowed a rough moan, wrapping his cold fingers around your throat while using the other to pull back your hair and arch your body. “Don' fucking… lie to me, doll… You wan— wanted your daddy to make you… feel desired over tho— those women”.

And yes, he was right. More or less. But you didn't expect him to react like that. Bucky was rabidly fucking you, moving the bed from its position with every angry thrust into your pussy. You knew you weren't going to last for too long if he continued impaling you against the mattress, just like that. But you both had to recognize that it was the best session of sex of your life.

“You were… fucking mad watch— watching 'em touch my arm… your arm, right?”

You whined at the brutality he used to push his hard cock beyond your limits, holding it there as he tilted your head to crash his lips on yours. Bucky devoured them until they were shiny, swollen, slightly ached because of the bit he left on your bottom one.

“If you don't tell me… the truth… I swear I'm not gonna let you come”. The whisper fell into your ear with such a raspy tone of voice, conscious of him being very capable.

“It was… your fucking fault, James. Not… Not mine”. You grunted, feeling him going a little deeper. “I di— didn't let anybody flirt with me… as if you didn't exist”.

That was the truth, but the wrong answer for him. Suddenly, Bucky pulled out his dick covered in your arousal, freeing you from any grip. A pause that only lasted the time he took to grab the handcuffs from your nightstand to place them in your wrists and secure them around the headboard. Now you were under his total control, defying him by strongly closing your legs and frowning at him, panting and sweating.

“Lemme tell you something”. Your boyfriend said, dangerously crawling over the bed till reaching your knees and forcing them to be separated, wide spread for him. “If you think I was flirting, but you didn't see… how uncomfortable I was… This situation is not my fault”.

The tables were turned as he finished his sentence, settling himself between your legs yet kneeling to raise your ass above his lap. “Not so mouthy now, are you, doll?”

You wanted to speak back, to say something after having a second to reconsider the reason why you were so angrier at him when Bucky pushed you down and rammed his dick back to the place it belonged. You forced unconsciously your hands gripped, wanting to put them on him —wherever—. As soon as he handcuffed you, your desire for touching him used to be suffocating. But you were the one who played from the start, instead of telling him how you were feeling about that situation at Shuri's party.

Bucky didn't even let you kiss him, stabilizing you on top with an arm around your waist and his cold hand holding the back of your head. His hips rocked straight to your g-spot once and once, making you lose any kind of control over your body as your boyfriend didn't have any compassion, needing to find relief to his sorrowful erection by cumming inside your clenching walls. You were driving him crazy, maintaining your eye contact at all moments and almost drinking your delighted, obscene crying, aware that only him could cause you to be so dirty.

“Feels good, uh…? You like it?” Your boyfriend brushed your lips with his, depriving you of his kisses or any other touch. “Bec— 'cause you take your daddy... so damn good, baby girl… So tight… so tight you could kill me”.

“Yes, da— daddy”. You whimpered nodding your head. “Only you… can fuck me li— like that… Only you”.

“That's it… that's it, oh, fuck… fuck, doll”.

You saw him roll that pair of beautiful blue eyes to the back of his head, feeling Bucky's thighs tensing under your legs. You didn't want anything else than making him cum, after overthinking about how he felt, and not about what you witnessed. He was right, more or less. He was still being so innocent in those kinds of situations that he used to feel like a scared kid.

You suddenly fell back to reality when the emptiness sensation invaded you. Bucky pulled out his length from you again, causing you to beg in silence for not denying you the orgasm you were about to reach. But he warned you. Bucky asked you to tell him the truth and you chose to challenge him. Letting you sit on the mattress, he flexed a leg to guide his twitching cock to your mouth, not needing to tell you what he wanted you to do. You just parted your lips, receiving him without protesting, curling your fingers when he forced your limits, and positioned both hands on your head. Twirling your tongue around his base as you could, with your cavity completely invaded, Bucky provoked you a strong gag. A gesture that led to his warm seed being spilled down your throat.

“Fuck my life, baby girl!” He couldn't help but howl driven by the pleasure as you coughed and made vibrate his sensitive skin.

Just holding his dick trapped by your lips for a second, he freed your mouth, taking his time to admire you swallowing his cum and showing afterward your tongue. God, you looked so beautiful disheveled, with teary eyes and swollen lips because of the effort.

“Want me to tell you something else?” Bucky asked while cleaning the sweat in his forehead with the back of his arm, taking the small key to liberating you with his free hand.

You didn't reply, not needing to, as he rubbed your wrists to comfort your skin before lying by your side.

“Com'ere”. He whispered, yet trying to recover your breathings. Bucky wrapped you with his flesh arm, rubbing his iron fingers up and down your tense belly, creating a contrast that caused you goosebumps. “'M so sorry for making you feel like that”.

He kissed you. Slowly, passionate, tasting his own juices mixed with your saliva. Caressing your tongue with the tip of his, and no rush. You felt his digits touring down your skin, till finding your throbbing and needed clit. You weren't able to hold back a sweet moan when he circled his fingertip over your sensible pearl, gladly drinking your vocals.

“When I wanted to react… she was putting that damn spoon into my mouth. It felt horrible, doll, I promise”. He murmured, venturing his long cold finger to part your folds and sink it inside you —moaning at the fulfill sensation—. “You always save me from those awkward situations… but you were having fun with Shuri and I didn't want to interrupt you”.

You were feeling like shit, looking at him through your eyelids as he curved a second finger into your cunt and increased the pace of the pounds with his hand made of vibranium. Bucky spread some gentle kisses all around your face, ending with a tender bite to your lips.

“When you told me you wanted to go home, I felt a huge relief… 'Cause that was everything I wanted. Go home with you. Maybe watch a movie… cuddle… fall asleep on the sofa”.

“Oh, God, Bucky”. You wept onto his mouth, as soon as a third finger filled you, nailing his hand in the perfect position to be moved up and down. “I'm so— sorry, Buck… I'm sorry”.

“Fuck, no”. He let out, thrusting you harder, faster, creating a melody of filthy sloppy sounds while your moans were louder and louder. “I should stop 'em, I didn't… I didn't. But I respect you more than anything, doll… I love you with all my heart. I care 'bout you, 'bout your feelings… Can you forgive me? Can you… Can you cum for me?”

You nodded your head running out of words, seeing your boyfriend snaking his body down the bed to between your shaky legs, yet having his fingers knuckles deep inside you. “Keep 'em open for your man”.

The blow to your abused cunt provoked you a lash up to your backbone, landing your hands on his head as Bucky sank his face straight to your center. His digits fucked you savagely, while his tongue took control of your swollen pearl —sucking, licking, kissing, pulling it back—. He wasn't going to deny that pleasure to you, quite the opposite. You pressed unconsciously his face a little closer to your pussy, swinging your hips and riding his mouth when his caresses and his pushes became too much for you.

Bucky made you cum harder than ever, crying his name till you didn't have any strength and you were just a sack of bones under his expert mouth, devouring you and drinking your juices as if it was the elixir of life. And when he was satiated, you glanced at him using the tip of his tongue to trail a path up crossing your abdomen, the gap between your breasts, your throat, until kissing you again getting comfortable on top of you. It was a kiss full of love, and guiltiness, and necessity, and pure devotion for you.

“Did I hurt you with what I said?” You murmured, still enraptured by the fireworks fluttering within your belly.

“This isn't 'bout me”. Bucky clicked his tongue, hiding his face into your sweaty neck. “This is 'bout what I let happen”.

“That doesn't answer my question, Buck… I'm sorry about what I said. I was just… I feel insecure". You confessed stroking his scalp and back with your hands, lacing your legs together. “I didn't mean it. I would never try to… find someone who respects me more than you do. That's impossible. And not talking about how much you love me”.

“I love you with every inch of myself”. He swore, he promised, raising his face to look straight at your eyes. “I can't imagine a life without you”.

“Me either… Your love makes me feel alive”.

Bucky left one last tender kiss on your lips before suddenly standing up and holding you onto his arms to carry you to the bathroom and take a shower together —wash your hair, worship your body again as if it was the last thing he was going to do—.

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sukirichi · 3 years

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reckless [02.]

With a lackadaisical playboy as your boss, being reckless wasn’t an option. But on the one time you let loose and made mistakes, your life is shattered, and now you’re playing house with your insufferable boss who is the father of your baby.

✘ cw. angst, toxic situations

✘ note. yes, feel free to scream at me in the asks. but like don’t worry, i promise there’s more to come and there’s more to happen! it’s going to get fluffier as we go hehehehe. ALSO, I can’t help but feel that Zayn’s “Let Me” speaks perfectly to CEO playboy Gojo. hmph.

one ✘ two ✘ three

One glance at the tall man beside you, and you would’ve thought he would pass out soon.

Satoru had been endlessly fidgety hours before the appointment. Flicking from music stations to another, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel or sighing at the sight of you calmly watching the city go by in a flash – it was clear he was restless. Judging from the dark circles he tried to conceal under a pair of shades, he probably hadn’t slept much last night as well.

Now that you were both inside the clinical room, with you laying back down on the reclined bed, belly exposed and all for him to marvel at, his knee hadn’t stopped bouncing. “Satoru, calm down. It’s just a doctor’s appointment.”

“Sorry,” he apologized sheepishly, rubbing his sweaty palms on his pants. “I’m just…excited yet nervous, you know? It feels so real now.”

Real didn’t begin to cover it. Although you masked your nervous quite well, you felt your stomach tighten when a woman came in. Her smile was gentle and comforting enough, talking you both through the process and spilling little fun facts about pregnancy. She applied a cool gel over your belly before turning to a screen, where mixed dots and waves of black and white blurred in front of your visions. Your eyes widened in awe, throat dry from the inability to speak. The baby had always felt real, but seeing it with your own two eyes, a small figure barely even a comprehensible shape in the screen, you couldn’t help but tear up a little.

“That’s mine?” Satoru breathed out, absentmindedly looping his hands through yours. It made you stiffen for a quick second, but your attention was quickly pulled back to the sonogram. “We made that?”

Your heart clenched at his words.

He sounded so happy – like all his dreams came true and you’d just given him a gift that was beyond priceless. You supposed it really was; a baby was always a miracle and joy to have, but this child wasn’t made out of love. How could he have so much fondness for something he didn’t want in the first place?

“The baby is perfectly healthy. This pregnancy doesn’t seem like a high-risk one, but it’s too early to tell so we’ll keep checking in on you,” the doctor pushed her glasses back to her nose, the sound of her cool voice pulling you back from a dangerous path of self-doubt and wariness. “Do you guys want to know the gender?”

Glancing at Satoru, you shook your head. It was amusing that you didn’t need to share words before he got the meaning behind one look, and he squeezed your hand as if to say he understood.

“I’d like that to be more of a surprise. Thank you, doctor.”

“Congratulations on being a father, Sir,” she bowed, and it occurred to you just now she was probably a family doctor. Satoru did end up keeping his promise that your pregnancy be kept private for a while. This little detail made you turn to him with shock written all over your face, though his attention was centred in on the swirling monochrome colours on the screen. Whether the doctor noticed the brewing tension between you two or not, you were still gad when they bowed once more to excuse themselves. “I’ll leave you two to talk now.”

The moment she was gone, you sat up and pushed your blouse down. Satoru’s demeanour had changed as well. His smile was wiped from his face, replaced only by a slight downturn of his lips.

Sighing, you swung your legs over the bed, not minding one bit that he was inches away from resting his chin onto your thighs. “Is there something you’re not telling me? You’ve been so worried since we got here.”

Satoru winced.

“Am I that obvious?”

“Even if you aren’t, it’s not that hard to see through you,” you spoke gently, a spirit possessing you because there would’ve been no other logical reason on why you placed a palm over his. Satoru’s hands were warm and large as he cupped your knee, tracing little patterns over your jeans as he kept his gaze lowered to the floor. It was an odd sight to see; that the Gojo Satoru refused to look a woman in the eye. “Tell me. What’s wrong?”

Satoru’s sigh is painfully drawn out, though his chuckles took the brunt.

“I don’t know what to do – how to be a father, I mean. Don’t you ever get worried…that maybe we might fuck up and ruin someone’s life?”

“Hey,” you cupped his cheek, forcing him to look you in the eyes – which you really wished he didn’t, because you’d never seen such azure this up close before. It was no secret that his eyes alone stole the hearts of people, but you had to remind yourself he broke them as well, so that you pulled away right before he got too close for comfort. It wasn’t what he needed anyway. Satoru simply required reassurance, so you opted for an awkward pat on the shoulder. “Weren’t you the one telling me the other day we’ll work it out?”

“Yeah, but…”

“But what?”

“It’s nothing,” he shook his head, a smile lighting up his features once more. “Are you feeling good? There’s someplace I want to take you, as a celebration for our healthy baby.”

You pursed your lips. As much as you appreciated his enthusiasm, this ‘celebration’ didn’t sound like a good idea. You’ve made mistakes before and now you lived the consequence of it; being reckless was outdated. Caution, wariness, and space were the top three perfect recipes for the complete opposite of a disaster.

“I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“Why not?” he challenged, taking your hand in his as he guided you out the clinic. You made no comment on why he led you out the back where he’d parked his car, even going as far to bow for you as he opened your door. “Liven up a little, we got good news today! Plus, we didn’t both take a day for nothing. Come on, you’re going to have fun, I promise you!”

“And where would we go where people won’t recognize you?”

“Somewhere people are too lost in their own world to focus on others,” Satoru announced before sending you a side glance, smooth hands already on their way to rev the engine.

This wouldn’t go down well. Or at least that was what you wanted to believe, because his smile and excitement were too contagious that you couldn’t restrain the smile you wore.

“A carnival? Really? We’re too old for this.”

“We’re never too old for anything,” he insisted, placing his hands on your shoulders as he maneuvered from stall to stall. Everywhere around you, children and people of all ages milled by, laughter and screams that fading into the distance. One survey at the long, endless lines for the rides and crowded spaces, you grimaced, feeling an uncomfortable weight resting on your shoulders that was beyond Satoru’s hands. “Aw, come on, don’t be such a bore. Day offs like these are rare and think about the baby! Don’t you think they would’ve wanted us to get a long?”

“You’re just using the baby as an excuse to have fun.”

Of course he would – Gojo Satoru was like a man-child. Whether it was someone randomly bringing donuts or puppies into the office, he easily lit up like a firework, seemingly finding joy in every little thing. Being stuck in the office and forced to work his ass off under your supervision must’ve taken a toll on him too.

Add on the fact he hadn’t gone out on dates or parties ever since he found out he was going to be a dad, the desperation to go out and do something was written all over his face.

Satoru pouted. “That’s mean. Take that back.”

“No.”

“And I’m the childish one here?” he snickered. You merely rolled your eyes at him and gave in; too much time spent working and not enough time relaxing (not that being a carnival was your definition or relaxation, but alas, Satoru was dragging you around everywhere like always) wouldn’t be good for the baby.

“You see that bear over there? I’m going to win that for you. It could be my first ever present for our baby.”

There was no stopping him. You didn’t want to, either, because you just stood there, arms crossed against your chest as you let him do whatever he pleased. A literal man-child, a youthful soul stuck in an irritatingly attractive man’s body – these were the thoughts that ran through your head while Satoru kept swinging his arm back and forth. He chose a stall where you had to knock down stacks of cans down with one set of three balls, all because he wanted to win a bear. You would really rather go home than watch him fail four times now, but he wasn’t giving up, only flexing his shoulders before gesturing to the young man.

“Hey man, three more balls please.”

Nothing was funny about it at all. Watching your boss fail miserably even after ten tries shouldn’t have been so hilarious, yet sweat was dripping all over his face and his patience was hanging on a loose thread that you were giggling before you knew it.

His usual confident bravado began to tear down bit by bit, his face flushed from the sounds of your teasing.

“Satoru, stop,” you laughed, “We’ve been here for twenty minutes and your wallet might as well be empty! You can just go buy a bear at the mall.”

“You’re too functional. Where would be the meaning behind it if I just bought a random bear?” he huffed, pushing the sleeves of his denim jacket up to his elbows. Determined now more than ever, he even stretched his long arms side to the side with a shake of his hips. You could tell the young man manning the stall was hiding his amusement by whistling to himself, but Satoru really was such a ridiculous sight you couldn’t blame him. “No, I’m going to get that for you, then I’ll brag to my baby how cool their dad was when he knocked those cans down.”

“You mean, if you knock those cans down.”

His shoulders deflated. “Support me a little bit, will you?”

“Hmm, I don’t know, it might just inflate your ego and you’ll be too distracted by yourself to ever actually knock those cans down,” He threw a ball with a force so strong it hit the curtain above the cans, and it bounced back somewhere below the tables. It didn’t even touch the can by a smidge, and you snorted. “See what I mean?”

Expecting that Satoru would take insult to heart (as his ego was easily wounded, this much you knew when he refused to talk to anyone at the office for a whole day because one of his directors forgot his name) you smirked at him, but that smirk immediately dropped when he grinned back at you. He was no longer wimpy like before, an aura of confidence brimming from him. “That’s like the second time you’ve told me I was distracting,” he mused, leaving you baffled because he was right. “On the contrary, I think you’rea lot more distracting, so I take that back. Just stand there and watch me win.”

“Okay,” you drawled out in faux disinterest, thankful for the corny carnival music and chatter from the crowd that he couldn’t hear your poor beating heart.

You were too focused on pretending to be unbothered by him that you failed to see how the cans were knocked down. The counter guy was already picking them up as Satoru pumped his fists in the air, way too much like a child high on sugar.

Was this really the father of your baby?

“I won! I fucking won! That huge brown bear, please!”Satoru’s smile from holding the bear that was half his size couldn’t even compare to the city lights and sparklers. Even his eyes were lit up in joy as he skipped back to you, happily waving the doe-eyed bear in front of you. At your lack of reaction, he sighed before jutting his cheek out to you. “No congratulations kiss?”

“How about a slap?”

“Kinky,” he teased, sending your brain to overheat when he tapped his chin in thought. “Well, you did make my back bleed so I kind of got the idea you’re sort of extreme in bed – ow! Would you please stop hitting me? I just won you a wonderful prize and your first reaction is to hit me! This arm is exhausted from swinging endlessly, you know.”

“Maybe if you aimed better, you wouldn’t have had to exhaust yourself. Like I said, you could’ve just bought a bear,” you scolded, raising your arm threateningly when he opened his mouth again. Idiot. “Give me that.”

Satoru effortlessly swung the bear until it was under your chins, his white lashes ethereal as he peeked at you through them. He was close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath dusting on your cheeks, that same warmth that had been mixing with yours in a sloppy, heated kiss just weeks ago. “And who said I was letting you carry this?” he taunted, thoroughly enjoying how for once, you weren’t hitting him.“I’m supposed to wave this around proudly then place it in our baby’s room when we get home. Besides, your hand looks heavy already.”

“My hands? Wait, what do you mean our baby’s room?”

At your words and questioning gaze, Satoru did a quick turn, trying to use the bear as a shield.

“Yeah, I forgot to tell you,” he scratched the back of his head awkwardly, “I may or may not have had my parents’ guest room renovated as a baby room, although if you ask me, I think moving somewhere else would be much better. Raising a child in a penthouse doesn’t seem like such a great idea if you ask me,” opening your mouth to scold him, Satoru stopped you by placing a finger on your lips, noses grazing against each other. “Don’t scold me right now; I know that look on your face and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, okay? We can still decorate it ourselves. I just had the beds removed and the space cleaned out. Now stop over thinking and let me help you with your problem.”

You pushed his face away for the sake of your heart. In fact, you should be paid for your acting skills for looking so unaffected.

“What problem?”

“Your hands look heavy,” he beamed, long fingers looping through yours as he swayed them side to side. “So let me carry it for you.”

“Satoru, I—”

“Don’t get me wrong,” he blinked innocently while surrendering his free hand, “I’m not doing this for you, it’s for the baby. Did you know oxytocin is released and makes you feel good and reduces pain, maybe even stress? We can pump your oxytocin levels through touch. It also lowers your blood pressure, and we want you at your happiest and healthiest for this pregnancy, right?”

“Since when were you an expert on this?”

“Since I found out I’m becoming a dad,” his words struck you speechless, mouth pressed into a flat line as you stared him openly. You hadn’t mean to come off as rude in that moment; you were just trying to gauge the sincerity behind his words, to explore the depth in his eyes, but Satoru must’ve took it wrong as he cleared his throat, “I can let go if you really want me to.”

“N-no! It’s fine…can we move? We’ve been standing here for ten minutes now,” Embarrassed, you pointed to the closest thing in your sight – a photo booth. “How about there? That looks fun.”

Satoru followed where your arm was pointed, laughing when a couple exited the red curtains while giggling amongst themselves. The guy even leaned down to steal a long kiss from his lover, and if you were embarrassed before, you wanted to crawl into a hole and never come back again right now. “You know, if you wanted me to be stuck in a cramped space next to you, you could’ve just said so. I didn’t bring the limo with me, but the Audi could be pretty small for us, I guess…”

You hissed at him in warning, “God, you never shut up do you?”

“It made you smile.”

“I wasn’t smiling!”

“Sure, mommy, whatever you say,” bumping his hip with yours, Satoru led you inside the cube. There were a plethora of filters to choose from; ranging from heart frames and ones that placed shades on your face. Not really thinking of what to pick, you reached out to press the frog hats one, but Satoru was swatting your hands away for the effect with heart emojis everywhere. “This is cute. We can show this to our baby once they’re born.”

“They won’t really know what a Polaroid is, Satoru.”

“It’s still sentimental!” he grumbled before clicking the camera icon, a huge smile already on his face until he saw you squished on the other side of the booth. Only one side of your ear could be seen, and Satoru furrowed his brows at you. “Come closer, you’ll be cropped from the frame.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Jesus, Y/N, don’t act shy now, I already fucked a baby into you,” mouth falling open at the vulgarity of his words, Satoru took the chance to drag you beside him. “Relax, you’re always so stiff. Our baby might come out frowning if you keep huffing like that.”

“You’re too close for comfort.”

“My apologies, I’ll try not to be included in the photo when you’re the one who suggested this in the first place,” he muttered playfully, booping your nose before he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. He was close, too close, that his musky perfume filled the close space. You wanted to lean closer to his warmth and sturdiness of his broad shoulders; his mere presence bringing about a sense of tranquillity despite your words. You told yourself it shouldn’t be too bad to lean into him for just a little while, absentmindedly following him as he cheers, “Smile!”

One photo turned into two, and Satoru ended up inserting a few more bills into the slot to take more. He tried out as many filters as he wanted, acting as if you two had been long time friends from how easy it was for him to be around you like that.

You supposed it came from his heavy experience with women. You were so unlike; while he was open to touch and didn’t care too much about space, you craved it deliriously.

It was obvious none of this meant anything to Satoru. You were probably just another woman in his life, with the exception that you had a kid, but you couldn’t mean something more. If anything, he treated you more like an old friend than a lover. He’d said it himself before that you weren’t his type and you didn’t mind, so why did it hurt the longer you mulled about it? Sure, you may not be as attractive or luxurious as his previous lovers, but did you really not even have charismatic pull? Is it because you weren’t his type that he was so casual with you, while you on the other hand, felt like you would lose your mind at every little thing he did?

You watched as Satoru pulled out his wallet and kept the Polaroid of you both grinning at the camera, forming a silly heart shape with your hands per his request. It was silly and platonic – yet the gesture confused you to no end.

“Why’d you do that?”

Satoru’s hand paused. “Am I not allowed to…?”

“We’re not lovers. You can’t just put a photo of us in your wallet.”

As if to prove a point, Satoru pulled out more photos of his wallet and showed it to you. There were several more wallet-sized photos, mostly of his white cat with black shades, another of him and his best friend, Shoko, and the last photo was of him skiing. They were all placed in his wallet along with a small, faded out photograph of what seemed to be his parents from the younger days. You couldn’t understand why he was showing you this, much less how patient he was as he smiled softly at you. “It’s memorabilia. I keep photos of everyone I care about everywhere with me,” he said, pocketing his wallet back before gazing up at the night sky. “I like to think we’re friends, at least. We’re definitely not just boss and employee anymore.”

Then what are we?

There were so many things you wanted to ask. You always knew he was always this overly friendly and nice, but what did make you? What did a friend mean to him? Other than Shoko, who was his lesbian friend who was also the company’s resident doctor, you’d never seen him be platonic with another female before.

The realization made your mood drop.

Maybe you were right. He probably didn’t even see you as a woman, but what did it matter? You didn’t like him. You shouldn’tlike him. Even if he had no intentions of wooing you, Gojo Satoru was far too appealing for his own good. Being around him was dangerous for your heart.

“Wanna ride the ferris wheel? The night city always looks beautiful.”

He was just your boss...and you were just a friend. Things were going to be alright as long as no feelings were involved. You survived seven years of working with him with not a single moment where your heart fluttered when he spoke your name; a baby made between you shouldn’t change anything now. At the end of the day, you were both only doing this out of responsibility. Satoru was trying his best to become a supportive co-parent to you, and that was all it ever would be. Strictly business – purely professional – as it always had been and always will be.

Foolish girl, you could hear a voice whisper at the back of your head, don’t get too lost in his eyes.

“Y/N, are you tired? Do you want to go home now? We can just order dinner to be delivered if you’re exhausted,” Satoru tugged at your sleeve to get your attention, and you chuckled awkwardly, not meaning to have spaced out the whole time. Worry was written all over his face from the way his brows dipped, stunning blue eyes darkening like the night sky you both made memories under.

Don’t look at me like that...

“Are you okay? Do you wanna go home?”

“Yeah,” you chirped far too brightly than you would’ve liked. Right now, it was more of a mission of fake it til you make it. You would just have to keep exerting the same amount of effort into making this work for the baby’s sake. And if that meant pushing aside any budding desire for this to last any longer to focus on your ‘friendship’, then you would do it. Taking Satoru’s hand for the first time since the baby ordeal, you flashed him a genuine smile. “The ferris wheel sounds nice. Let’s do some sightseeing before the night ends.”

Neither of you speak inside the cab. Beautiful the night was as the city shone into awakening illumination beneath you, comforting you with the thought that in the grand scheme of it all, you were small. Insignificant. That somehow everything you worried about wouldn’t matter when there was a much bigger world out there, and you were but a fickle dot in the middle of its entirety. But that was you, and Gojo lived in a much different world than you did. For somewhere in the city, you could recognize several of the sky towers, buildings, and establishments owned by his family. He mattered in the grand scheme; you were a small factor in his world.

Glancing back at the man who’d been silent the whole ride, you smiled upon seeing that he was doing the same. Satoru was practically bouncing in his seat as he snapped several photos of the city, mumbling something about he’d never seen this view before.

He was so innocent yet so out there, igniting within you an urge to take care of him and wanting to be taken care of by him.

You’d already accepted that you may just never have him that way. That small, fleeting crush was like a butterfly – pretty look at, but damn near impossible to catch. You’d already stopped crying yourself to sleep over the new changes brought about in your body, that in a few months’ time, you’d look back into everything and see that everything had changed. The mistakes you made that night were still something you regretted because you wished you could’ve done better, but seeing him right in front of you now, there was only gratefulness blooming within. Grateful that he was right by your side, grateful that at least the father of your child was more than capable of giving them a comfortable life, grateful that he didn’t push you away like you expected.

Acting more on impulse than logic, you leaned over to press your lips on his cheek.“Thank you,” you mumbled, eyes closed as you let your lips stay there for a few more seconds.

His skin was warm underneath your touch, and when you opened your eyes, Satoru was gazing up at you with stars twinkling in the vast galaxy he called his eyes. You smiled at his reaction, watching as he reached a palm out to caress that spot your lips had landed.“For what?”

“For everything,” you crumbled,“You’re not a bad person, Satoru, I know that,” with shuddered breaths, tears sprung at the back of your eyes again. “I’m sorry for being so difficult. I just need time to adjust to…well, all of this.” Your voice cracked at the last sentence and you were crying before you knew it, face hidden behind your palms in fear he’d look at you differently. In his eyes, you were always his stoic secretary who didn’t even bat an eye when people gave you backlash after Satoru hired you despite the lack of a college degree.

This all felt new – to cry, to trust, to rely on someone – and there was a flurry of emotions you couldn’t quite place yet.

Scooping you into his arms, Satoru patted your back as your cries grew louder. “Take all the time you need. We don’t have to rush into anything at all.”

In the harsh world of conglomerates where the laws of business blurred thinner and thinner with each day, it was hard to believe that not rushing into anything would be possible. It was always a flurry of hurried phone calls, frantic preparations for emergency meetings, anxiety over presenting new proposals and hoping that your superiors would sign your documents so you could go about your way. Time was as imperative as money was to them, but Satoru had proved he could be beyond that.

From the moment you met him, he never treated time as if it was something that slipped through his fingertips. He enjoyed every second he had of his life, and perhaps that was why you hated him so much in the first place.

You thought he took everything for granted, when in reality, all he did was bask in the little things life offered.

This much, at least, you trusted him with. If he said there would be no need to rush and you could both take it slow, he meant it. Around him, time felt more like a secret whisper than a treasure you both had to seize to protect. The night drifted off until it was already midnight and the crew was ushering all visitors out. You and Satoru made it home safely and quietly, hands linked together as if it was the most natural thing ever. No rush, you kept telling yourself, and you plopped down on the couch heavily as you let your muscles relax from such a long, eventful day.

You stayed there for a solid minute or so when you felt warm hands take your heels off. Opening your eyes, Satoru kneeled before you, his fingers expertly rubbing and pushing against the sore muscles of your feet. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“Your feet must be tired from all that walking,” he mumbled, looking up briefly to meet your eyes and tease your shoulder back. “Lean back for me. I’ll take care of you.”

Judging by the sentiment behind his smile, you figured it wouldn’t be harmful to enjoy this at least once. You’ve never gotten foot massages before but his hands kneading yours felt heavenly. You knew from experience beforehand that Satoru was quite godly when it came to the skills and magic his fingers brought, though this one was on a different level, and you were sinking deeper into the couch from the bliss. He was right; you were tired, and if having your boss massage you like this every night after dragging you wherever he pleased, then you wouldn’t complain.

The ringing of your phone made you sit up abruptly, surprising Satoru whose head you almost knocked into. “Sorry,” you croaked out sheepishly, “It’s my dad. I need to take this.”

“Do you need me to leave you alone?”

“Uh, no, you’re fine.”

Satoru gestured to your foot as you took the call, mouthing, “Should I continue?”

“Yes, please,” you answered back, palm pressed over the mic before you answered. “Hey, Dad!” Your father greeted you back with much enthusiasm, his energy heard even by Satoru who sent you small smiles and curious glances every now and then. A part of you wanted to ask if he was fine kneeling on the floor like that, but his knees were on the fur carpet anyway that it shouldn’t hurt him. He extended your leg and trailed up your calves, pulling a soft moan from you when he kneaded the flesh and rid it of its knots. His ministrations distracted you until you were nodding absentmindedly to your Dad every now and then, not really paying attention to what he was saying.

Then the call ended, and his last words kept ringing back into your head ominously. Satoru took quick notice of this as he tapped your knee, bringing your attention back to him. “Is something wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I...” you started, helplessly fumbling around Satoru. “My dad is in Tokyo. He said he wants to have dinner with me.”

“You don’t look particularly happy about that. Do you not want to meet your father?”

“I do but...”

“But?”

“I have to tell him about this,” you shivered, refracting your legs back to the couch until his touch disappeared from your skin. For a moment, you had the urge to crawl back to his heat, but you were restless, agitated. “About us. He’s going to want to meet you and I don’t want to hide the pregnancy from him either,” Satoru remained unmoving as you rambled, and you hid your face behind your arms again as you remembered the rules you asked him to follow. “Listen, I’m sorry if I sound unfair right now, I know I said I didn’t want anyone else knowing—”

Warm lips brushed over your knuckles, large hands peeling your wrists to reveal your face. “Hey, it’s fine. He’s family and you can tell him. It’s not like your Dad would ruin your image or something like you expected to happen.”

“He won’t but...” you frowned, “My dad isn’t going to like this. I can’t guarantee he’ll be civil the whole time, especially towards you.”

“You told him about me?”

“A few years ago, yeah, when I still couldn’t tolerate you.”

“So you can tolerate me now?”

“Only a little bit,” you corrected, pushing his hands away as you opened your phone to check your schedule. It was mostly Satoru’s schedule, truth be told, but you were free for the most part tomorrow. Satoru could just longue back in his office while you clocked out early to meet your dad. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. On second thought, he doesn’t have to know at all. I’m only a few weeks in and it’s not like he’ll notice—”

“Y/N,” Satoru interrupted you, rudely snatching his phone from your shaking fingers. You would’ve scolded him had he not sounded so worried. “I did promise I would take responsibility for you, right? I want to meet your dad and introduce myself properly. As a father-to-be, I think I can somewhat understand that he might react strongly to this, but I also need to reassure him you’re in safe hands,” taking your hand in his, Satoru leaned into your palm, the smile he wore way too charming than what your heart could handle. “As long as you’re okay with it, I would like to meet him.”

“I’m sorry if he does something stupid.”

“Don’t be,” he reassured with a chuckle. “I’m sure everything will go well.”

It didn’t go well. Your father wasn’t throwing a fit or causing a scene like you originally feared, but the current situation wasn’t any better either. He looked like he was on the verge of tearing Satoru’s head apart, his grip on the bread knife so tight his knuckles flashed white. Your father was the literal definition of unpredictable and out of nervousness, you held Satoru’s hand under the table for comfort.

In complete opposition of yours, Satoru handled it with class and composure. His head was ducked down in respect, making sure to be curt and precise in counters to your father’s harsh accusations.

“I’m really sorry for everything, Sir.”

“Did you ruin my daughter’s life?”

Satoru finally tilted his head back up to look your father in the eye, both your hands turning cold and sweaty in between the seats. “Pardon?”

“I asked if you ruined my daughter’s life by getting her pregnant.”

“I would never intend for that to happen, Sir,” Satoru straightened up. From your perspective, he looked every bit the man parents would want their children to be with – handsome, elegant, educated, polite, respectful and well-off – but your father was no ordinary parent. He sized Satoru up like a predator hunting his prey even as the latter acted cool about it. “Granted, it was an accident and neither of us are prepared for this, but I promise I’ll take care of her. I take responsibility as the father and you have nothing to worry about.”

Your dad slammed his palms down on the table, the loud smack catching the attention of nearby tables. “How dare you tell me I have nothing to worry about?”

“Dad, please don’t do this.”

“No, he needs to know,” he snapped. Unable to help it, you groaned inwardly and scooted closer to Satoru, knowing where this was leading. “I lost her mother right after she was born; raised her by myself when I was barely out from high school. Rich men like you may never understand the struggles of taking care of a baby all by yourself, but I did everything I could to make sure she grew up well. My daughter had a happy, comfortable life. When she told me she wanted to follow her dreams in Tokyo, I supported her, and then you go take everything away from her because you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself? You dare defile her like that?”

“Dad!” you roared, clutching Satoru’s hand who’d gone limp. “It was equally my responsibility as it is his! I wanted this; we both got carried away but we’re doing our best, so please stop being difficult to us.”

“You wanted this?” he laughed dryly, “A child with this man you kept moaning to me about; the same man who went to clubs every night while he left you all by yourself to work, to clean up his mess from him? You wanted him?”

“Dad,” you gritted your teeth, nails sinking down onto your thigh. Satoru remained silent between you both, although you could feel his burning gaze penetrating through the back of your skull. “It’s both our mistake. But this child...we don’t see it as that. We like to view it as a blessing. It may be true we harbour no affection for one another, but we want to be good parents. That’s all you need to know and I find no reason to explain myself to you. If you have nothing else to say, you can go back home. I’ll pay for your ride,” slamming down a few bills his way, you glared at your father, who shrunk back at the anger radiating off of you. “You’re not welcome here, Dad. Just go back home.”

“I’m just worried for you.”

“You don’t have to. I’m not a little kid anymore.”

“I never said you were,” he sighed, rubbing the sides of his temples. “But he just took all your opportunities away from you! What about your dreams? What about your plan of having your own career once you have enough experience? What about—”

“Are you implying that because I’m pregnant, suddenly I’m not qualified to fulfil my goals?”

“Sir,” Satoru cut you off, releasing your hands as he leaned forwards on the table, becoming more and more like the CEO he was trained to be – all authority and gentle command that won the hearts of multiple investors. “I assure you that I won’t be holding your daughter back from the things she wants to achieve. As her co-parent, I’m perfectly capable of supporting her in the dreams she wishes to achieve. I’ve worked with her for years; I know she can reach for the stars if she wanted.”

Your mind blanked.

“Young man, don’t talk to me as if you know my daughter better than I do,” your father scorned, “I’m not questioning your capability to support her, but what about your credibility? How can you assure me you’ll really be there for her? How can you assure me you won’t leave my daughter stranded in the middle of nowhere? How can you assure me you can protect her from the harsh criticism of society? Money can’t provide nor does it solve anything,” your father copied his gesture by leaning forward, but it was to poke Satoru’s chest. “From what I’ve heard about you, I suppose you understand perfectly well why I don’t trust you.”

“Sir, I do plan on marrying your daughter and to give her the life she deserves,” Satoru confessed, effectively stealing from you the ability to speak as he glimpsed your way. “If she lets me.”

“You’ll marry her? Be faithful to her as your wife and have a family? Are you sure you can do that?”

“Yes, Sir, I’m highly confident I can. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Then that’s all I need to know,” your father leaned back in your seat, arms crossed against his chest and a stern expression on his face. “And if I find out you hurt or make my daughter cry in any way, I’ll beat up that pretty face of yours. I have two more sons that’re willing to do the same, if you don’t watch your actions.”

Satoru beamed at your father’s ‘approval.’ “I’ll face any consequence if I fall short on my duties, Sir, but I assure you, it will never have come to that.”

“So we’ve come to an agreement?”

The two men linked and shook hands across the table, completely disregarding the fact you were right beside him. You were beyond appalled, but mostly hurt that you’d been reduced to this way. And they were unaware of it, too, sickening and satisfied yet tense smiles were masked on their faces as they decided your future.

You stood up and left the restaurant.

You kept walking as fast as you could in the cold night, hands shoved into the coat of your pockets. Thousands of pin needles pricked at your heart and your skin the more you replayed the memory in your head. How stupid were you to think that Satoru would be different? And marriage? Was he serious? It all made you sick to the core to the point you wanted to throw up and disappear, until a heavy set of footsteps echoed behind you and tugged your wrist.

“Y/N, wait!” Satoru panted, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. “What’s wrong with you? You just up and left—”

“Seriously, Satoru, you’re asking me that?” your face fell flat at his cluelessness, “What’s wrong with you? You men are sickening; planning my entire future like that right in front of me as if I don’t have a say in what I want. None of you asked if I’m okay with this. You really went ahead deciding we’ll get married when I told you already, I don’t want to marry you and I never will!”

Satoru brushed a hand over his hair, a hand on his hip. You could tell his patience was being tested – after being verbally harassed by your father and now with you pushing back in the same heat, it was only a matter of time before he lost his cool. Surprisingly enough, however, his voice remained levelled as he sighed. “What did you expect me to do back there? Tell your father that we’re just going to be roommates and raise a child together as if we’re not already family?” he defended, words slow and pronounced with a hint of hurt behind them. “I respect you and I truly do want to be with you, that’s why I wanted us to get married.”

“You respect me?” you laughed incredulously, “Are you hearing yourself right now? No person respects another by deciding what happens to my life without my consent!”

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask, okay? I apologize for it and I acknowledge my mistake that I didn’t give you much of a choice. Me being cornered and pressured isn’t a good excuse, but I wasn’t lying when I said I want to take care of you and—”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Why do you want to be with me?” you demanded, “Why do you want to take care of me so badly? How did you even take this so well? You weren’t even that angry when I told you I was pregnant.”

Satoru paled. “Was I supposed to be? Should I have pushed you away and kicked you out my life? Is that what you wanted me to do, or is that what you expected from me, considering you’ve made it extremely clear I’m nothing but your airheaded boss and a man who always wants his dick wet, right?” the sting of his words pricked you both – you with your guilt, and him with his pride crushed. But he didn’t let on, didn’t waver and didn’t match your anger as his chest shook with impatience. “I’m trying to be good to you; I want to be good for you and the baby because despite what you think of me, I’m not the devil the tabloids make me out to be. I sleep around, yeah, but I wouldn’t go so far to turn someone away especially when I know I’m supposed to be there.”

“Satoru, if you’re only doing this out of obligation, you can be a good father without marrying me. Marriage is not a requirement; I don’t care what people say that I got pregnant without getting married. That’s the least of my concern, I just want the baby to grow up healthy but I don’t want to be involved with you.”

With how stunned Satoru looked, one would’ve thought you slapped him right in the face. That mere sight of seeing your boss tear his walls down in front of you almost made you feel bad, but you had to be strong.

You had to be firm with what you stood for.

“I really don’t want to be with you, Satoru. I’m so sorry.”

“What do you want me to do?” his voice cracked, begging and pleading as he stood before you, looking every bit of a man lost in uncharted territory. “I don’t know what you want me to do, Y/N. One moment, you’re telling me you want me to be a good father, and then the next you’re pushing me away. People are so sure that I’m a man who can never settle down because they believe I have commitment issues, but I’m telling you I can commit to you right now,” he held your hand, rubbing some of his warmth at your comparably cold ones. You didn’t fail to notice that he was trembling, but what about what you couldn’t decipher. “Are you really sure I’m the one here who isn’t capable of that? What are you so scared of that you can’t trust me?”

“Because you’re you! Because you’re a fucking asshole who’s been treating me like I’m an overworking machine and always expects me to undo your shit for you! Because you make me sick and I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t know what love means!” Exploded. You exploded. “I regret everything that happened between us that night. No, in fact, I regret ever meeting you at all.”

Satoru took a step back.

All the light and joy that fit so perfectly with him had now disappeared.

“I’m sorry,” he demurred, “I’m sorry that I’d been so repulsive that you’ve felt miserable for all this time. I’m sorry I haven’t been a decent boss and I’m sorry I’m not good enough for you.”

“Gojo, stop. Stop doing that; stop apologizing!”

“Then tell me what you want me to do,” he barked desperately. “Because I can’t read your mind and I just want to be good for you.”

“What if I don’t want you to? I don’t want you to be good to me, I don’t want you to care about me. Be there for the baby, but don’t involve yourself too much in my personal life. Stop asking me to marry you because you and I would never work out. We’re impossible, okay?”

“How do you know we’ll never work out when we haven’t even tried?” he pushed, “You never even gave me a chance.”

“You’re not worth that chance.”

If someone could receive an award for effortlessly trampling over someone repeatedly, you would’ve been crowned winner a long time ago. You had no idea what came over you as you spat all those hurtful words to Satoru, but did your words bear no truth? The fact that he no longer defended himself meant he also knew that he wasn’t worth it – that he wasn’t someone to be trusted. It wasn’t that you were completely unfair too; of course you considered it. Weeks of living under the same roof as him and you most definitely considered it. Say you did get married and became a real family – what then? It wasn’t a marriage out of love, but rather out of responsibility and obligation.

As much as you loved your child, you couldn’t imagine throwing away your future and living miserable for the rest of your life like that.

A life built on lies wasn’t a life worth living.

“I would never hurt you.”

Your heart cracked. After everything you said, after all your efforts to keep him away from your own safety, after all the hurtful things you’ve done to him, and he was still apologizing? Why did he have to make it so hard to let go? You were tired, so tired that you could no longer refrain your lip from quivering as tears caked your face.

“Gojo, please, don’t—”

“So if me stepping away from your life is what would really make you happy, then I’ll respect it. But there’s one thing I have to ask,” Satoru swiped a thumb under your eye to catch the tear. His smile was forlorn, his touch cold and words melancholic. “Do you want the baby? Do you...want to keep the baby and be a mother? You don’t have to do anything for me, I just want to know if the mother of my child even wants to be one. And please be honest, because everything you say right now are words that I’ll mark seriously.”

The word left your mouth before you could stop it.

“No.”

“No what?”

“I don’t want to be a mother,” you admitted, hands trailing over your belly. It felt like you were betraying your own child, but you hadn’t planned this. “I’m too young, Satoru, I-I’m not ready for this. With you there beside me or not, I really don’t want this.”

“Then,” he cleared his throat, turning his head to the side to catch a moment. You swore you saw his eyes shine under the city lights with tears, but it was gone so soon that you might’ve just fooled yourself with it. Once he deemed himself ready to talk, Satoru took a deep breath. “Do I have your consent that once the baby is born...it’ll be under my care? Would you prefer to reach your own dreams, then? You’ll never have to be a part of the Gojo family if it’s really not what you want, even though I could support you as much as you need me to.”

Your eyes widened at his proposition. “You’ll take care of our baby?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Can I...can I visit them, at least, once in a while?” It was more than just your heart that broke that night. There was no telling whether you’d hurt yourself in the long run with this decision. It was no easy choice to make – to actively pursue your dreams somewhere else more than being a mother. You wanted to do your best, of course you did, but it wasn’t that easy. Gojo didn’t have to tell you for you to understand that once you married him, you’d be expected to run the business with him and be involved in his family and their dramas. Now that wasn’t a life you wanted.

“You’re free to visit them whenever,” he promised, voice fading even lower into the background. “So is this it? We’ll just be living under the same roof until the baby is born and once they’re here...”

“We’ll part ways.”

“We’ll part ways,” he nodded in agreement, sniffling for a brief second before fixing his tie. The Gojo Satoru you got to know for a few weeks had now disappeared. Not even the goofy boss you spent seven years with could be found in the coldness of his eyes, almost as if he’d put up such impenetrable walls around him and nothing could pass through. The sudden shift in aura made your heart clench as he offered his hand to shake. “Okay. Let’s stay professional until then?”

“Yeah, Sir, I can do that,” your hands shook as you enclosed it around his, but now all the warmth had disappeared – from his eyes, his touch, his soul. It hurt, but this was necessary. It was what felt right. “Thank you – for everything.”

“You’re welcome. Anything for you and the baby,” Satoru proclaimed, perplexing you both when he suddenly pulled you in his arms. Just like that, the dam broke, and you were staining his precious suit before you could stop it. His arms rubbed up and down your back the longer he held you there, almost like a final moment to lean on one another before you had to say goodbye eventually. Beneath your palm, his heart beat exuberantly loud, so much so that you might’ve heard the prayers it whispered. “Stop crying now. The baby might feel sad too. We’ll both be alright – we just have to get through this.”

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writingsbychlo · 3 years

Text

sun in the shadows (08)

word count; 12,516

summary; noah does his best to fit in, and it doesn’t quite go as planned, but that’s okay.

notes; it’s finally happening.

warnings; noah is a bit of a jerk, but it’s over pretty quickly.

The sun was out again, the grass was filled with people, and it seems that they had gained the good luck you had missed. This sun was bringing warmth, a radical change from only a week ago, as your sundress today was entirely fitting. With hair clipped back away from your shoulders to keep cool and sunscreen on your bare skin to stop yourself from burning, you were soaking up the rays.

The group you were gathered with had been lucky enough to snag a table to sit out at, blankets laid out and pinned down in the light breeze by picnic blankets, shoes and rocks for those who hadn't made it to a table in time, and you didn’t envy them at all. Despite the warmth, the grass was still a little damp, mud still tar-like as it moved toward drying out, and yet the space was still heaving. It mildly resembled that of a festival or a beach on the Fourth of July.

Leaning back a little, your face tipped up to the sky, the chatter of your friends surrounding you drowning out as warmth washed over your face, lids closed but barely doing anything to block out the light, and you smiled. You loved the summer, always had, it was your favourite season. Something about the warmth, the longer nights and the smoky smell that came with barbecues or the salt of the ocean at the beach. As you sat, face directed to the sky, the sun was suddenly blocked, a cooler air falling over you, and your frowned, cracking your eyes open to see what had happened.

“Noah, hi.” You beamed, sitting up properly to turn around, and the man nodding his head, a hint of a smile on his face. A pair of dark black sunglasses were sitting on his nose, a pretty contrast to dark hair and darker denim jeans, a charcoal t-shirt on his shoulders, but there was no jacket. His bag was slung over one shoulder, and as his presence was made known, several others around the table greeted him, too. He seemed to have a warmer reaction to them, a wonderful smile as he offered his greetings, and your brows furrowed a little.

You ignored the action, despite its unfamiliarity with you. He was treating you once again like he had done months ago, when first getting to know you, a time when there was no trust built between you both. Taking a seat beside you at the table, you only just had a chance to move your skirt out of the way before he was sitting down. Swinging his bag over to the side, you waited for him to say anything else, his hands sitting atop the table as his forearms leaned on the wood, and your frown was only deepening.

Running a finger along his forearm, his face turned to you, brows rising up from behind the glasses, and a smirk on his face.

“You okay, there?” He teased, your eyes narrowing on him just a little, and his arm flexed slightly under your touch, before he was pulling his arm away from you, and the smirk on his face widened. “What? There’s something going on up there, so you might as well spill it.”

“Nothing, I guess.” Your words were mumbled out, and he only nodded, not bothering to wait for a second longer, before he was turning back to the conversation. Something within your stomach twisted. Confusion at his behaviour, uncertainty whether it was something you had done, or whether this was simply who he was when he didn’t let his anxiety get in the way. “I just thought I wasn’t seeing you until later, is all?”

“I thought I’d join you for lunch. Is that so bad?” He was grinning again, a more cocky smile than you were used to seeing from him, and on the few occasions you had seen it, it was never in a setting like this. “I thought you wanted me to get out there, make friends. Is it because I’m not all yours anymore?”

A couple of the other boys around the tables chuckled, various girlfriends and partners slapping at their arms in retaliation for the joke about being controlling, and your lips pursed into a thin line. “No. I just wasn’t expecting you, is all.”

He seemed a little taken aback by your shorter tone with him, one of your brows raising slightly in a challenge to his behaviour. Taking his glasses from the tip of his nose, he folded them in the middle, tucking them into his shirt, to rest on his colour. Sweet brown eyes were searching your own, and you shrugged a little. His smirk lessened, becoming a slight frown, and for a moment, you thought he was going to leave behind whatever it was that was wrong and let you in, but then, he was stolen away into a conversation.

Just a brief mention of his name was all that it took, and his focus was moving away from you entirely. You were glad that he had made more friends, you really were. You’d been working hard to try and introduce him to new people in a way that wouldn't spark his anxiety. Run-ins on walks the two of you shared, people you bumped into while out getting coffee or simply introducing him to someone you knew that you thought he’d get along with.

You’d seen Noah every single day for the last week, there hadn't been a moment that wen toast that the two of you hadn't been in contact, whether in person or via text. For as many days as you could count now, he was the last person you’d spoken to before going to bed, and the first person you had spoken to when waking up in the morning. He was the person who made you laugh when you were stressed, and the man who sent you recipes when you didn’t know what to cook. He was the person who sat by your side doodling on the tops of your work pages while you tried to get some studying done, before eventually distracting you enough to give up.

You couldn’t place anything you’d done wrong. The last time you’d seen him had been the afternoon before, when you’d gotten a coffee together and walked around campus, and you’d spoken to him only an hour or so ago. His behaviour made no sense to you, it was unprompted and without reason, and it was leaving the feeling of a put welling in your stomach.

The thought of it being some kind of reverse attempt at soothing his anxiety flittered over your mind, and so in an attempt to test the theory, you leaned over. Shuffling up close to his side, your arm looped through his, and he paused his speech for just a second. He’d been talking to the boy across from you both, telling them all about the renovation work he’d spent a summer doing with his dad on the house, and he turned to look at you.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting. Maybe for his arm to tighten around yours, to pull you in a little closer. A smile, a kiss to your forehead, something softer than the look you got with an arrogant smirk that made you feel like you were locked out from him, and when he turned back to continue the conversation without any of the options that had run through your head, your discomfort only increased.

Your arm sagged against his, his arm flexing for a second a spike of hope raced through you. But, he was simply shifting, his arm moving away from yours in a way that made you shuffle backwards. Reaching into his pocket, he produced his phone, laughing slightly at a joke that you hadn't caught from someone else around the table, and you pulled your hand back into your lap instead of placing it back through his arm.

Everything about it made you uncomfortable. The wondering, the insecurity, the fear of having done something wrong and forced him back into his shell with you. It was enough to make you feel sick to your stomach, and despite your lingering gaze on him for minutes now, he never turned to you. Checking your phone, the afternoon was tickling on. Your lunch was passed finished, your afternoon wide open with nothing else to do, as it seemed all plans with Noah seemed to have fallen through with his new personality.

You weren’t sure what had gotten into him, the new attitude was like that of half of your exes, or your friends and the people who were around you. You didn’t mind it so much on them, of course, it would the attitude that they would greet you with, because there was nothing deeper between you with them. Every friendship you had was teasing, there was nothing that merited anymore more. With them, your physical contact was limited to that of greetings and goodbyes, hugs and the occasional kiss to the cheek.

With Noah, though, you’d felt like something was different.

You’d felt like perhaps there was something more between you both, something a little beyond simple friendship. Something flirty, the kind of sweet-like-honey feeling that made you get butterflies and have your cheeks ache from smiling, or your eyes sore from staying up late, staring at a screen in the dark just to talk to him.

Clearly, that wasn’t how he felt, too.

You tried to join the conversation, to talk to the girls around you as the men were all sucked into a chat that you evidently weren’t intended to be a part of. You could keep up for a while offering your input on everything they talked about. You liked that about the girls you were friends with, they were easy to skip between topics, moving from one thing to another with ease, and sharing gossip that they had heard.

For a while, it made you feel better, a little more comforted and a little less alone, but despite his presence right next to your side, the warmth from his body and the brief brushes of his shoulder with yours when he moved, but it only made you feel more lonely. You felt shut out, as though the cold wall that you had spent so long breaking down had shot right back up, twice as thick. You couldn't take it anymore.

Packing away your books into your bag, you stood from the table, several pairs of eyes moving to you as you stood, and you offered them all the best smile that you could muster at that moment. Once they were all sealed away, you placed your bag up on your shoulder, and your hands met the wood. Leaning over slightly, the conversation went quiet as you became the centre of attention.

“Sorry to break this up, but I got to go.” Several soft complaints came, attempts to convince you to stay, and you smiled at the effort that at least some of your friends were making. “If anything exciting happens, text me.”

“You sure you don’t want to stay? I was just thinking we should go and get some coffee, or something.”

Laurel was staring up at you expectantly, her eyes a little wider and you sighed, shaking your head. As much as you’d loved to, the bad mood you had gained from Noah’s new attitude was bringing down your social battery, and you weren’t sure how much longer you’d last. “I would, but I have some studying to do, and a couple of other things. I’ll catch up with you later, though, alright?”

There were some goodbyes, and even a hug from the girl beside you, before you were beginning to trail away from them. The chatter around the table was quickly replaced by the groups you began to weave through, a polite smile on your face to everyone you passed by as you tried not to encourage any more conversations. By the time you were reaching the edge of the grass and moving to the concrete, the heavy footfalls of another person moving slightly faster than you were catching you up.

A hand on your shoulder, pulling you lightly to a stop, and as you turned around, you yes scanned up to find the face of a man you were familiar with as your instinct kicked in, accustomed to his height by now. “Where you goin’?” He questioned, panting a little from the effort he’d exerted to catch up with you, and you tried not to scowl at him as he stared.

His face was softer now, instead of the cheeky look he’d been holding all afternoon, it was something much more genuine and earnest, the kind of look you were used to from him. It was throwing you through a loop just trying to keep up with him. “Home. I have some work to do.”

You moved again, walking away from him, and he let out a confused grunt, boots scuffling on the tarmac of the parking lot as he caught back up to you. “Wait, wait, wait. I thought we were supposed to be going to the garage? I’m working on your car tonight, I brought new bulbs for your headlights because they’re kinda’ dimmed, and I don’t want you getting into an accident or anything.”

You frowned, eyes narrowing on him for a second, and your shoulders slumped under his gaze.

“What’s wrong?” His hand reached out, trailing down along your arm towards your hand, and he had the audacity to let a hurt look flicker across his face when you pulled back from him by just a fraction. It was enough, though. Enough for his hand to fall away, his fingertips brushing over your arm, before it fell back to his side, dismay evident on his face.

“What is with this hot and cold act you have going on?” His jaw dropped, no words coming out, and heat crawled up along his cheeks slightly while he gaped at you. Instead, you took the initiative, shaking your head a little at him, and he only sank in on himself a little further. “You were so sweet this morning. The Noah I’ve come to know, and then suddenly at lunch, you’re this different person. Kinda’ a jerk, actually. Now, you’re all gentlemanly again. I don’t get you, but I don’t want to hang out with someone who’s gonna’ pick me up and drop me like a yo-yo.”

His eyes flicked over your face, lips pursing closed in a tight line, and you waited a moment longer. As the silence grew, you moved away from him, taking steps again a little further, and it was a few more seconds before he moved again. He was slower, long strides falling him into step beside you, and he didn’t try to stop you, but his head hung a little, and he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, alright? But when the other Noah shows back up, let me know.”

He chuckled, dry and hollow, before he was rounding in front of you, giving you only a second to stop before you were colliding with him, and there were mere inches between your bodies. Staring up at him, your brows shot up again, and he tried to offer a gentle smile to you. “I just thought that if I acted the way your other friends acted, I’d fit in a little better, and you’d like me more.”

“You were trying to get me to like you more? By acting like a dick, and making me feel weird about ‘us’?”

“Reverse psychology?” He whispered, and he relaxed when the smile on your face came out.

“I’m the psychology major, leave that to me.” You teased, and he nodded his head. Leaning down, his nose brushed over your forehead, lips pressing to your skin in a soft kiss, the act you were used to, and you sighed as he did. “There he is.”

His hands smoothed over your sides, pulling you in closer and your hand came up to rest on his cheek. Stroking the skin across his cheekbone gently with your thumb, his head tipped into your hand.

“I don’t want you to be anyone else, okay? I like you plenty enough just the way you are.”

“You’ll still come hang out with me, then? Because it gets lonely when you don’t keep me company at the garage, now. I’ve become accustomed to having company.” He reached out again, his hand smoothing along your arm, and you didn’t pull away this time. Rather, you let his hands find yours, fingers weaving together until your palms were pressed up to one another. He smiled, something bashful and dopey, and it was an adorable kind of expression. The cold of the band he had wrapped around his thumb today was rubbing against your finger, and you squeezed at his hand. “I’m gonna’ take that as a ‘yes’.”

“‘Kay, I forgive you. Don’t get weird again, though.” He nodded his head, making you grin as he tugged you in a new direction, a ninety-degree angle to head towards the bike. He made his promise, making you grin when he held out a tattooed finger for you to link your own with, sealing the promise together.

Opening up the back-box on the bike, and pulling out your helmet. Letting you settle your things inside, he placed the helmet down on your head, pulling your hair back and out of the way. Leaning in, his lips brushed over your nose, breath panted lightly over your lips, something heavier settling over the both of you, and you couldn’t help the breathy giggle you let out.

You reached for his helmet, having learned where the catch underneath the seat was, and you opened it up to select the protection from inside. Lifting it, he ducked his head to let you place the helmet on his head, brushing back the longer strands of chocolate-brown hair to settle it there. Smoothing your fingers down along his jaw, you fastened up the catch under his chin, his head tipping up to let you do so. Before his head moved down, you shifted upward, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw, and he was beaming when his head came back down.

His finger spinach the tip of your nose, between his thumb and his index, your face screwing up with a soft laugh when he did. “You’re cute, you know that?”

“I’ve been told.” Swinging your leg over the bike, you settle down first, your hands landing on the steering, a dangerous look portrayed him as you smirked. “In a summer dresses and lollipops kind of way, right?”

“Mhm.” He teased, fastening your helmet up and tipping it to sit properly on your head as he stood before you. Moving his eyes further down, his sights scanned over you “You look good on my bike.”

“You should let me drive. I think I’ve got it, now. I would be awesome at this.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as you shuffled back to make space for him. With every catch done up and the boxes sealed, his leg swung over the bike, settling himself down on the leather. With the impact of him sitting, you slid down the seat, the insides of your thighs pressing to the outsides of his own, and your front was pressed to his back. His hand came out, circling behind his body to find your wrists, and he pulled your arms around his body. “If you drove, how would I get you to hold onto me like this? I like the attention, what can I say?”

“You could just ask.”

“Oh, yeah?” He twisted the keys in the ignition, the bike sparking to life underneath you, and your hands tightened a little more around him. Revving the bike slightly, he kicked off the latch that kept it secured to the ground, balancing it between his own feet as you tucked yours away. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You should.” You mumbled, chin tucked over his shoulder to whisper the words near his ear, and you could see the smile stretch on his face. Pulling back, your forehead rested between his shoulder blades, squeezing him once in signal to let him know you were ready, and then he took off.

You’d grown used to it now, the slight grind of the tyres on the concrete as he took off and then the streets whizzing by. You like the sights, the way the lights seemed to become like a blur when you moved, The tips and tilts, the way the bike bounced when you went through potholes or over the bumps in the road, it had all started to feel natural. It was the same when you were with him.

Noah had been a stranger to you, but he was a constant in your life now. He was by your side more than he wasn’t now, and you couldn't deny the bond that you’d formed with him It was like nothing you’d ever experienced before. He didn’t force you to be anything you weren’t, he didn’t make you feel insecure, or less worthy, or like you had to constantly be the best version of yourself to impress him. He didn’t drain you down like others did, he didn’t make you feel less, or like you couldn't be yourself. You loved who you were around him, and how being with him made you feel.

Twisting your head, your eyes closed, cheek resting against his back as he moved. He was going slower than usual today, the journey taking a little longer, and while the quiet was filling the space between you both, it was comfortable. Everything with Noah seemed to be that way, now. The two of you were seemingly opposites, everything about you felt like something that would clash but there was just something between the two of you that worked. Like magnets drawn together, or opposing puzzle pieces, you fit together perfectly.

He forced you out of your comfort zone, to do things like ride a motorbike while you forced him to approach the people he’d seemingly decided hate him, only to discover he was capable of making friends. Each of your downfalls, he seemed to lift up. One by one, he was raising you up, making you a better person, and giving back to you just as much as you gave to him. It was effortless to be around him, something that had happened both slowly and at light speed. Winning his trust had turned into so much more, once the door had been opened, it was like the two of you had moved past acquaintances and friends, to hover on the verge of something else.

He was constantly on your mind, and when he wasn’t, it didn’t take long before you saw something that reminded you of him, a joke or a comment online, even just the way someone would walk across campus or the outfit they’d wear, it all seemed to come back to him.

When the pair of you had finally pulled up to the edge of his garage, he was cruising slowly between the sheds. More doors than usual were open today, the crowds were a little busier, but with the sunny weather, you weren’t so surprised. The tones of different music melded together, more students willing to come and spend prolonged periods of time outside when the weather was warm, and the days lasted longer.

Setting up the stand on the bike, your feet reached the floor, trembling a little still from the vibrations of the engine. The sounds went dead as he pulled the keys from the machine, but neither of you moved, his hands dropping down to find your own for just a second, and you lifted one hand. Your fingers weaved with his, before he was pulling your hand up, kissing the back of your hand gently, and the feeling made something explode within you. Butterflies, a tidal wave, something crushing and exhilarating and racing all in one, your heart beating erratically as he lowered your hand back down. “I’m sorry about before. I just wanted to be more like other people you hang out with, other people you’re friends with, or you’ve dated, or whatever. I didn’t want to be a freak.”

Standing up from the bike, you undid the catch on your helmet, putting it down on the seat as he copied your actions, going from looking up at you to once again looking down as he stood taller than you. “You know, when I’m with you, I feel so much better than I do when I’m with them.”

“I just want to be the right guy, you know? Be someone everyone likes, be someone who can fit in. Stiles does it so effortlessly, I can’t be like that.”

“You shouldn’t have to, because I think you’re great the way you are.” You tapped the tip of his nose, the same way he had done to you, and his face screwed up with ticklish responses exactly the same way that you had. “It’s a good thing you cut that out, though, because I got you something.”

“A gift?” He whispered, and you only nodded. Opening the box on the back of the bike, you swapped the helmet in your hand for your bag, laying it out onto the seat so that you had access to it. Opening up the bag and digging through it, you searched until your fingers brushed the silky material, and you could grasp the small item.

“It’s just something small.” You mumbled, beginning to untangle it from the contents inside, and hoping it hadn't gotten creased. Producing the item, his eyes dropped down from your face to the item in your hands, a neutral expression taking over as he considered it. “I like to put decals on my laptop, and all the ones I had were getting old and peeling. I was ordering some new ones, and I saw this one. It made me think of you.”

“It's a daisy.” He took it from you, thumb stroking across the shining plastic, and you nodded.

“Yeah, from the day that you and I sat in the field, and you let me put daisies in your hair.” You reached up, brushing your fingers through his hair lightly, and fluffing it back up from where it had fallen flat. “I figure you could put it on your laptop, or bedpost, or maybe don’t stick it to anything. You could put it on your pinboard in your room, or use it as a bookmark. I don’t know.”

“I love it.”

“You do?” Your heart had been racing, the uncertain expression he had that you couldn't possibly decipher became something like the sun, a wide smile as his chewed-down thumbnail picked at the edges. Peeling the plastic backing away from the transparent and inked design, your brows raised. He moved, pressing the edge of the plastic onto his bike, and sealing it down firmly, your eyes widening. “Noah! That’s your bike!”

“I know. I’ve never had a decal on it before.”

“But, what if it ruins your paint job, or something? I didn’t expect you to stick it on your bike, of all things!” He smirked, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks as you rambled to him. Your eyes moved to the sticker, your face cupped by warm palms as your finger smoothed over it, the white and yellow standing out prominently against the black. “What if you decide you don’t like it, or you hate where it’s positioned, or-”

Your breath was held in your lungs as he dipped down closer than he’d ever been as his nose bumped against yours. Your lips brushed, his tongue poking out to wet his lips slowly, and you let out a shaky groan as he did. Your eyes closed, lashes tickling against his as he lingered there The tension was palpable, the split second that he lingered there felt like a thousand dragging on, before his lips met your own.

Soft and warm, his lips pressed tentatively against yours at first, a second becoming two that was filled with hesitation. It was simply his pressed to your own, nothing happened for a second, before it did. His lips moved, fingers digging a little more firmly into your jaw, and his palms slid down. His hand was sitting over your neck, feeling the pounding of your pulse under his hand no doubt, and your mind finally seemed to catch up.

Your lips twisted, a smile making itself evident, and your giggle was muffled against his lips as you sagged a little in his hold. His grip loosened a little, his kisses stopped, pulling back enough to press his forehead to your own, taking a breath, before he was pulling away. “That’s not the reaction I was hoping for.”

There was gravel in his voice, and he swallowed thickly to clear it away, pupils wider than you’d ever seen them when he looked back to you. “I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you. I was just caught off-guard.”

“Couldn’t have been that off-guard, I’ve not really been subtle, lately.”

“I just figured I’d have to make the first move.” You teased, his eyes rolling, and one hand lowered further. Smoothing over your side, his hand found your hip, rubbing soothing circles through the material and your whole body felt lost. Like you were floating in the clouds, but weights were tied to your fingertips, arms heavy as you raised them to loop around his neck. “Kiss me again. I won’t laugh this time, I swear.”

“If you do, I’m never kissing you again.” He mumbled, dipping down to brush a pout over your lips, and you scoffed slightly, head pushing up to meet him.

“Liar.” Your words were lost, mouth meeting his in a sweet kiss, and he sighed through his nose as you connected with him. This time, you were ready. Your lips moved back with his, a soft and slow kiss that nothing like you’d ever experienced before.

It was like fireworks, every place he touched as the hand on your waist flexed, and the one from your neck smoothed down along your bag to pull him closer. Your fingertips were tingling, one hand slipping to the back of his neck to hold him close as his mouth worked with yours in a way that emptied your mind. You were clinging to him, one hand down over his chest, feeling his heart racing through his shirt, and as he pulled away, one of his hands came up to hold onto your own on his chest.

You didn’t say anything, and neither did he. You didn’t know what to say, and neither did he. In fact, you were both completely speechless, a few more stolen pecks and bumps of your noses, before there was a grin cracking on your cheeks that you couldn’t contain, and he stood tall again, a kiss on your forehead before he was tucking you under his chin and close to his body.

“I’ve been thinking about doing that for a while. I didn’t know it would feel like that, though.” He whispered, hands taking yours on both sides, linking your fingers together as you rested against his, and you could only nod in agreement.

“Why didn’t you do it sooner?”

“I didn’t know you wanted me back.” He shrugged, and you pulled away, shock written on your face when he peered down to see you.

“I’ve not really been subtle, lately.” You threw his own words back at him, slightly pinker lips than usual showing off white teeth in a smile, and you rolled your eyes at him. “Wanna’ fix my car and talk mechanic to me and I’ll pretend I know what you’re saying?”

“I’ll simplify it for you.” He teased, letting go of your hands after one final squeeze to retrieve his belongings. Zipping up your bag and slinging it over one shoulder, he swapped his helmet for his backpack, tucking his keys into the front pocket, and you followed him around to the front of the building. Putting in the code on the padlock, he undid the lock at the bottom, the rickety metal shutter rolling up higher and higher until the whole doorway was exposed.

Your car lay inside, the hood already popped open and the engine was taken apart. Pieces were on the floor and the counters, like some kind of mechanic gore scene, and you jumped a little as he threw the heavy padlock onto the wooden table. Your bag followed, his was dumped by the side of the car, and he pulled it open, producing four boxes of lightbulbs for your car, shaking each one for a second to ensure they hadn't broken. He seemed pleased with what he heard, laying the boxes along the roof of the car.

It was propped up now, sitting on an angle as it was elevated into the air, and the board that he used to slide under it was still on the floor, indicating that it had been recently used. Taking your phone from your bag, you grabbed for the speaker, hidden in the same place you’d put it on your latest session with him, and began to untangle the wire. Once it was set up, pulled out as far from the wall as it would go, you set your phone down, plugging the device in.

The light on the base changed from red to green, signalling that it had connected, and the speaker let out a crackling sound to confirm the volume. Adjusting the dial a little, and being aware of Noah’s neighbours surrounding you, you turned it down a fraction. As you scrolled through the first couple of sounds, beginning to choose a set to start queuing up, a warm body was meeting your back, and hand smoothing around your waist to sit over your stomach, and once again, your mind was going blank.

His chin hooked onto your shoulder, your heart racing in your chest and a flush covered your entire body, somehow managing to feel like you were on fire in your own skin while also shivering a little, goosebumps rising along your exposed arms. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the skin of your shoulder just to the left of your dress strap, and you leaned back into him a little.

Physical contact was nothing new between the two of you, and had he taken these actions only a day or so ago, you probably would have had a calmer reaction than you did now, but there was something more hanging over it now. A line crossed, a new page in the book, something entirely different that made it that much more exhilarating.

You continue your scrolling, the soft melodies of ‘Brandy’ playing across the air, and the man behind you hummed approvingly. “I forgot that this song even existed. It’s a good choice.”

“It’s my favourite song.” You mumbled, your body beginning to sway side to side with his own in a very simple dance. The tune took up, and you sang lightly under your breath to yourself, Noah humming along behind you as you continued to add songs. Occasionally, he would join you, his finger coming out to tap or point at the screen, a silent suggestion on which ones to add, and within a few minutes, the songs were collected. Enough for an hour, at least, possibly even two, and then you could reconsider what to play when the music ran out.

“Your car should be up and running soon, I’ve been making some pretty good progress on it.”

You turned to face him, sitting down backwards on the spinning stool with the wooden top, and he was walking back toward the car, the toolbox on the opposite workbench already open. His back was to you, grey shirt stretched across broad shoulders, the muscles in his back evident when he leaned over and you let your eyes linger a little longer than usual. The blush you got every time you realised you were checking him out was still present, but it didn’t feel as taboo as it had previously.

“There’s something rattling in your engine and I can’t figure out what, I’ve taken out everything he could be, so I’m starting to think it’s something underneath.”

“That why this place looks like a car’s worst nightmare?” You teased, eyes moving across the pieces of removed engine, and he chuckled, sifting through the tools inside.

“Pretty much. I’ll put it all back together, though, don’t worry. I’ll feel better knowing you’re out on the road in something safe.” You cooed a little at him, his sweet gesture making your chest flood with adoration, bursting from the inside out, and he only rolled his eyes at you, glancing back over his shoulder for a split second. “I’m not sure what we’re going to do once it’s fixed, or where we’ll hang out.”

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll figure something out.” Your tone was coy, and he chuckled, turning back to look at you. He had chosen what he was looking for, something that looked like a short and blunt tool. You weren’t sure what the folded end would be used for, but he was straight into action, leaning over your engine and reaching inside. Twisting in your seat, you reached for your bag, pulling out all of your books. Flicking through your notebook to find the latest empty page, your bag sat open. You’d gathered more than enough information from the pair to be able to start making your conclusions now, but you still felt behind.

Stiles was much further ahead, he had started forming his conclusions and searching for holes in his evidence almost three weeks ago, and he was beginning to redraft his final presentations as he produced a first copy. You were still a while off of being at that stage, becoming progressively more distracted by Noah and the puzzle he presented as you deciphered him, but you couldn't help it.

He was rattling around behind you, a sound that had distracted you for a while at first but had become background noise just like the music had, fading into something that helped your mind to work better than the silence ever did. Your notes seemed like they were blurring on the page, your mind far too busy thinking about recent events than the notes you’d taken on the two.

The songs ticked by, the tinkering behind you fading away and starts and ends of your engineer turning on and off, rattling slightly and making the air around you vibrate for just a second. Your pen scribbled song your paper comparing answers and beginning to draw what information you could and in the times that your mind wandered, you doodled borders around the notes that were just for you to see. The notebook that had once been fresh and crisply pressed was now ragged around the edges, worn pages from constant flicking back and forth, filled with ink and your thoughts as you tried to get them all down.

Occasionally, Noah would come over to join you, a half-drunk bottle of water that he was getting through as he leaned don the unit beside you. His notes had joined your one, his thoughts written down onto the paper, sometimes a joke, something with a sarcastic comment about what you had written, and sometimes it was just his one doodles to join yours.

The work was progressively getting done, and while it wasn’t nearly proceeding at the rate you would get it done alone, you preferred working slower and having his company than racing through it but being all alone. It was more enjoyable, especially when he began to relax more, the deeper rasp of his voice like a security blanket that forced your body to relax once he let go enough to start singing along lowly to the songs.

By the fourth one he had sung, you realised you hadn't written anything in almost ten minutes, pen hovering over the page, and it was beginning to feel hopeless. The sweltering heat was beginning to settle over you like a thick blanket on a too-hot summer’s night. As the afternoon moved on, the breeze was dying down, and the once temperate heat was becoming stifling as it sat stagnantly.

Closing your book and folding your pen inside, you called it a day, deeming it a good day’s work as you put your notebook into your bag, zipping it up, and a soft sound of something dropping beside you caught your attention. Turning around, a slightly damp pile of grey sat beside you, and upon picking it up for further inspection, you released it was a t-shirt.

Turning to the car, the man you were with had disappeared underneath, melodic voice bouncing from the metal on the underside of your car, but the happy trail of dark hairs along the bottom of a toned stomach was still visible, and your mouth rapidly dried at the sight. You turned away, feeling wrong for staring, but like a magnet, your gaze was drawn back to him.

Folding the material you still held neatly as something to simply busy yourself, the chair squeaked as you twisted to place it back down on top of your bag, no longer in a crumpled heap, before turning back to the vehicle. With elbows braced on the edge of the wooden counter, your eyes moved along it. Still covered in a layer of dirt and dust, it needed a good wash, but you’d hadn't bothered to venture as far as the carwash in a long time, trying to save the little life it had left for important travel. As soon as it was back in your possession, however, that would be one of your first priorities.

Moving a little further along, your eyes reached the back wheels, new tyres having been one of the first things Noah had done for you the grip on the other’s fading away, and you vaguely remembered him telling you all about the brake-pads at some point. His chatter about mechanics always became a mess in your mind, much like you were sure your psychology chatter became for him, but you listened intently and tried to keep up, just as he did for you. Simply hearing him talk so passionately was a treasure in itself.

“Oh, my God, you got that dent out.” Your eyes honed in on the spot, and while it wasn’t exactly perfect, it was considerably better than it had been. The wheels of the board scraped along the ground, sliding his body out from under the vehicle.

“Yeah, I noticed it when swapping out your tyres.” You turned back up him, the wide beam on your face dimming a little in shock, because you’d managed to forget his shirtless state for just a second, but now, it was crashing over you all in a sudden rush. His hands were stained with oil, and he stood up the folded muscles from his hunched position going taut as he stood, and he grabbed the nearest scrap of fabric he had, trying to wipe down his hands as best as he could. “It wasn’t too hard, I just had to hammer it out and smooth it over.”

“That was there since I got the car, I thought I’d never get it out!”

Your voice was a little shaky, and as he made his way over, your eyes were drawn to the tattoos on his chest. You’d seen him shirtless twice before, but you’d never had the chance to observe the designs up close. Slightly distorted by sweat and the grease from the underside of the car, you couldn't make them all out, and your fingers itched to reach up and trace the drawings that you had yet to discover.

He took the bottle from by your bag, undoing the cap with ease and raising it to take a gulp of the liquid, and every muscle he had seemed to shift and flex under his skin with the simple action. He wasn’t even trying, tired and dirty and sweaty and he was putting no effort in, but you were sure that you hadn't had a coherent thought for hours now. The song playing came to an end, the music fading out into silence, and you waited for the next one to come, but it never did. That was the second loop you’d put the music on, the hours having flown by, and the sun was shining in to leave longer shadows across the floor as it moved across the sky.

“You’re bored, aren’t you?”

“Little bit.” You grinned, holding up two fingers but making sure they were very close together, just to show a small amount, and he chuckled. Wiping the back of a hand over his mouth, he cleared excess water from there, before he was holding the bottle out to you. Taking it gratefully, your mouth had been dry and desperate for a drink since the moment he’d pulled away from you after that first kiss, leaving you dried out and thirsty ever since.

Taking a sip, he stepped away from you, moving to grab your car keys from the side unit and moved to the driver’s seat. The door was already open, and rounding it to the other side, he twisted the key to start the car up. The engine came to life almost immediately, no spluttering or grinding of parts, no multiple attempts needed, and it purred happily as it rotated inside itself, as though it was a brand new vehicle. It wasn’t loud or clunking, and there was no unusual sound being made. Clearly, Noah was just as happy with that result, because he cheered a little to himself.

Shifting inside, he checked various options, everything from the indicators to the headlights and the fog lights. The new bulbs were lighting up perfectly and brightly, clear and start white as opposed to the faded yellow they had been beginning to gather with age. “I am so impressed. Like, awestricken, really.”

“Thanks, kitten.'' Just when you thought you’d managed to put a cap on it, and get your head in a reasonable place, he had thrown a petname in your direction. Once again, you were speechless, thoughtless, and senseless, unable to control the dreamy sigh that was almost a breathy giggle at the sound, trying not to fawn too obviously over the new treatment he was giving you. “I think that pretty much does it.”

“So, when do I get to take her home?”

He was beaming, tapping the roof of the car and killing the engine, before nodding his head at himself. “You can drive her home right now, if you just give me a second to unhook and lower it back to the ground at the back.”

“We’re leaving?”

“You’re bored, and we’re pretty much done here.” You frowned, not having intended to bring your time to an end, as though he could read your mind, he continued on with what he had to say. “Doesn’t mean we have to say goodbye just yet. We can find something else to do.” He rounded the car, hooking a finger under your chin to tip your head up to meet his gaze. He was looking down on you with a sweet smile, nothing but peace and serenity written on his face. “You’re sure you really like me? We’re, like, total opposites.”

“Opposites attract.” You teased, his eyes rolling, and he stepped a little closer to you. The chair made you feel too low, his hair falling into his face as he leaned over you, and you stood to meet him, his gaze following you as he did.

“I thought you were just going to be a burden, you know. I thought that doing this study was gonna’ suck, and I was going to be miserable, but getting to know you has been so different so what I expected.”

Lifting his hand, his palm smoothed over your cheek, letting you tip into his touch. “Yeah, well, first impressions can be misleading. I can be pretty cool.”

“You’re the coolest person I know.” He whispered, gaze dropping down to linger on your lips for a second, and you smiled softly, his face mimicking the notion.

He stared for a second longer, before dipping down. He hesitated for just a second, a laugh carried on his breath that you barely caught, and you leaned up too. Your nose brushed his, nervous breaths shared in the hardly-existent space between you both as your lips continued to brush lightly. He dipped down, his lips pressing lightly to your own as the tension finally came to an end, and there was a smile on his lips as he did. It made it hard, the smiles that neither of you could contain, and your hand roe up to cup his cheek.

Timid pecks, delicate laughs between broken kisses as your noses bumped and lips puckered, trying to contain yourselves. Your heart was racing, he was just as nervous as you were, the new boundary as a friendship turned to a relationship, and it would take a little longer to get used. When he pulled back, a final and longer kiss pressed to your lips, that same sweetly dopey expression was on his face, warm cheeks and sparkling eyes.

“I like that.”

“I got oil on your face.” He mumbled, picking up his shirt from beside you both, shaking it out from its folded position. Hooking the edge of it over his thumb, he wiped at the smear on your face, leaning down to press a kiss to the spot once it was cleared, and your cheeks were almost aching for your smile.

He stepped back from you, lips rolling together to contain his smile, and as he walked, he was pulling his shirt up and over his head. Beginning to pump at the jack behind the car with his foot, your car was lowered back to the ground the back wheels finally touching against the concrete again. With a screeching sound against the concrete, he dragged away the piece of equipment, metal scraping on the stonework floor, and he left it abandoned in the back of the shed.

Reaching for the keys at the edge of your car, he threw them to you, barely giving you a second to catch them before he was snickering to himself at your fumbling, the keys jingling in your touch. “C’mon then. You must be excited to get back in your car.”

You nodded, slinging your bag from the side into the passenger seat, and he was holding your car door open for you, letting you settle inside. Closing it up carefully, you reached for the lever under your seat, adjusting it back to how you liked it. He’d clearly been inside, the distance between the pedals and the seat of legs much longer than yours, and as you adjusted yourself, his arms folded against the edge of the door. Plugging in the key and switching on the engine. As it tumbled to life, you were able to roll the window down, finding it much cleaner and smoother in its movements than it had been.

He leaned in more, bent at the waist as he peered inside, and your fingers flexed on the wheel. “How’s it feel to be back in your car?”

“I feel independent again.” you turned to him, the car still rumbling underneath you. “Thanks to you.”

“Well, try your air-con.” He pointed to the nozzle, all wiped down and polished inside, and you did as told. Instead of sputtering and squeaking, they came on quietly, warm air from the engine turning to cold a second later, and it was a refreshing relief compared to the heat of the day as the sun dared to meet the horizon. “Better, right?”

“Incredible.” You mumbled, daring to mess with the other controls. Your wipers didn’t scrape at the glass, but moved quietly and conveniently, and the windscreen wash was even functional, a little burst of water covering the glass and being quickly wiped away. The gear stick wasn’t so sticky and the pedals were easy to press on once again, just the right amount of pressure underneath. There were no unusual noises coming from your engine. “Almost feels surreal.”

“Yeah, well, the only thing I didn’t do is put gas in the tank, so you’re gonna’ have to do that on your way back.”

“Back to where?” You turned to him, a cheeky look on your face and he smirked, matching you, and settling a little lower until your eyes were level.

“Stiles isn’t home. We can play video games in the main room, and I can do more of this-” He leaned in, pulling you in with a thumb and forefinger on your chin. The smirk he wore became a pout, his lips pressing to your own, and there was more confidence behind it now. All of your kisses so far had been shy and scared, testing the waters and adjusting to how it felt, but now, he was a little more sure of himself. His lips teased over yours, more enveloping than a simple kiss, and you were melting into him. Leaning closer toward the door of the car, your hand was coming to brace yourself against it, finding his arm on the edge of the rolled-down window.

“I like that plan.”

“I’ll meet you there, then.” He stood up, hands patting the edge of the car, before stepping backwards. With a wave before leaving, you undid the clutch, shifting it into first gear, and creeping forwards. Weaving through the boxes carefully, you were unfamiliar with the pathways, making your way towards the road as Noah walked alongside you guiding you to the main quarter. As soon as you knew your way, he was pausing, waving at you in your rearview mirrors and walking back towards his garage shed.

The drive was much easier, a car you felt like you could rely on as you went along, and you were barely along the road before the warning light on your dashboard was flicking on to warn you of a petrol depletion. It seemed that you had only just missed the rush-hour traffic, the roads starting to clear out a thin down, and you were almost disappointed by it. It meant that you didn’t get a chance to test out all your gears and brakes, with how seamless your journey went, but the last thing you wanted was for the car to overheat as you drove along, breaking again already.

Dangling from your mirror as you checked behind, you became aware of the little tree hanging there. A small piece of green felt, the pine smell filling the cabin as you drove becoming less of a mystery, and you lifted your hand to it. Running your fingers lightly over the surface, the cupboards underneath was sturdy, the tree spinning on its string when you let it go.

It was such a small gesture, and yet something so sweet about it as it hung there. Like a permanent reminder of him, something you’d see every time you drove, whether he was with you that day or not. Pulling up into the gas station, your car came to a stop, easy and simple without a lot of stuttering and jerking motions. It was like a miracle. Hopping out, the air-con that had been inside had grown comfortable, the warm air outside was suddenly prickling along your skin, like an itch that you couldn’t get to.

Rounding to the side and beginning to start the pump, your eyes moved over the station. There was only one other car, a mother with two children in car seats in the back, who both seemed to be hyperactive. They were screaming at the top of their lungs, giggling and smacking their hands against the window, and as her eyes met your own, she gave you a tried smile. You offered a little wave, the two small children inside the car reciprocating it too, and only a moment later, her husband was appearing from inside the shop. The bell overhead jingled as he exited, jogging slightly as he put his wallet back into his pocket.

They were pulling out as you finished, letting the nozzle drip clean for a second before you were putting it back on the hook. Locking up the car and making your way inside, there was a swift breeze of air conditioning over the doorway, the air inside chilled, and it was almost a little too cold. Rows full of treats and food for road trips and hungry children, or simply just bored snacking were laid out, multicoloured wrappers that were eye-catching.

Wandering through the aisles, you built an armful of the treats, unable to resist temptations as you bought a range of everything from pretzels and chips to candy and chocolate. The cashier behind the counter was chewing gum, a bored look on his face and you thought that he couldn't possibly be older than Junior year in high school as he rang it up. Packing it all into a bag and adding your tab from the lot outside, your card was pressed into the reader. Punching your PIN in to follow it, the out of date machine took a few extra seconds to go through, before your payment was confirmed.

A full tank and a bag of snacks, and you were back in the car, tucking the recent purchases down into the shadowed footwell and out of the way of the sun that was just beginning to brush the horizon. The clock on your dash told you the veering was rolling in, the night going to be uncomfortably hot and your car started back up with ease. The display flashed for a second as the engine restarted, and then, you were on the road.

Parking up beside Stiles’ building, windows rolled up and your snacks hidden in your backpack, you swung it onto your shoulder. Three flights of stairs, one long corridor, and two knocks on hardwood, and you waited. It was nostalgic to be here waiting for him, but the nerves you’d had months ago when waiting for a boy you barely knew were entirely washed away. Swinging it open, Noah filled the doorway, a smile so bright you wanted to cover your eyes on his face as he greeted you.

“Wow, what a surprise. Fancy seeing you here.”

“Oh, were you expecting someone?” You played along, and he let you inside, closing the door behind you as you toed off your shoes to leave beside the doorway.

“You know, I was. I have a super cute girl coming over soon, so you’re gonna’ have to make this quick.” He shrugged, his hands coming to find your waist and pull you a little closer as soon as you’d put your bag down on the couch. “Oh, wow, super cute girl alert. Hi.”

You’re secretly a total dork, huh?” Leaning up, you pressed a kiss to his cheek, hand sliding down over his chest, and there was the sticky printing of a patch under your skin. Looking down to his shirt, it was navy blue now, a logo for a band you didn’t recognise beginning to fade on the front. “You changed.”

“I was sweaty and oily.” He took your hand, dragging you over to the couch, and pushing you to sit down with the other hand on your shoulder. He moved away, switching on the televisions and the console, two drinks of soda laid out before you, and he slumped down into the couch by your side. Your legs folded underneath yourself, taking the bag from the cushion it lay on, and dropping it into his lap. “A school bag. Thanks so much, just what I wanted, how’d you know?”

“Look inside.” Your eyes rolled involuntarily despite your grin, and he did as told, nimbly undoing the zip on it, and opening the bag up. Pulling out the folded brown pair, he indeed the top, peering inside at the contents.

“Oh, you brought snacks.” He stared in at them, before he was turning to you, a playfully accusatory look on his face as his eyes narrowed. “What did you do? Did you break that car already?”

“No.” You frowned, his finger coming up to poke and smooth at the wrinkled forming o your forehead. “Why do you think I did something?”

“Because all the previous times you’ve brought me food, it’s because you did something.” You scoffed, smacking at his arm and pretending it was an accident as you picked up a candy bar out of the bag, peeling the wrapper down.

“What the hell do you mean ‘all’?” You bit a chunk off of it, and he shook a bag of chips, distributing the flavour inside, before tearing it open. He crunched loudly as he placed one of the triangular chips into his mouth, twisting to face you some more.

“Okay, first time; You bought my coffee after ambushing me in my home and insulting me-”

“I did not insult you, you jumped to conclusions!” He pressed a finger to your lips, silencing your words, and grinning cheekily.

“It’s rude to interrupt people, you know.” He placed another chip into his mouth, chewing happily, and lowering his hand from your mouth. “Second time, you brought pizza after ambushing me on my lunch break.” Your jaw dropped, but you remained quiet, a huff and a scowl on your lips at his words. “Third time, you brought lasagne after ambushing me at the coffee cart.”

“I don’t like the way that you portray me.”

“Fourth time, you forced me to go out to a restaurant, which you technically didn’t bring food to, but it was still overwhelming.” You sighed, taking a bite of your chocolate, and he wiggled his fingers a little as he rode his thumb to create a fifth finger. “Fifth time, you said you were planning to bring me food but didn’t have any after the first time you ambushed me at my garage.”

“Why do you keep saying ambushed?” You scowled, his hand coming down to rest on his knee, and you pushed it away. That only made him laugh, his hand coming back, leaning down to grip just above your ankle at your calf a little more firmly, and lifting your leg up.

“Because that’s exactly what you did.” He pulled you closer, your legs slinging across his lap as he dragged you across the couch, and he looked overly proud of himself for the shocked noise you elicited as he did so. “But, somewhere between the third and fourth times, I stopped being irritated by it, and your continued persistence and unwavering enthusiasm because kinda’ cute.”

His hand came up to brush through his hair, he broke the silence with the loud crunching of another potato chip. “Can I ask you a question, though?”

“Only if you promise to kiss me afterwards.”

“Deal.” You teased, shuffling a little closer to him, and he moved the bag of snacks from leaning on his stomach to sitting beside the both of you. “You know that first time I came to see you here, when I asked you about the study? You said some really mean things about yourself, like ‘criminal’ and ‘lowlife’, what did you mean?”

His lower lip dragged through his teeth, eyes leaving yours for a second, and the sweet and joyful moment between you both came crashing down into something much heavier. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m not actually a criminal. People just started that because one night I was at a bar on the edge of town that seems a little sketchy, and a bar fight broke out, The cops showed up, and a guy got stabbed. I was actually out the back smoking at the time, so, I didn't even see all the excitement.”

“I’m sorry that the rumour started, though.” Your hand sank to his cheek, thumb stroking over his skin slowly.

“Stiles got really mad when he heard that rumour, and he cleared it up on his podcast, but the damage was done. Yet another reason why nobody wanted to be my friend.” You leaned in, kissing his forehead like he tended to do for you, and he tipped up, nose bumping yours in a silent ‘thank you’ for the comfort. “I just saw myself as a low-life. I let the rumours travel, I wasn’t even trying to make friends. I let my whole college experience slip away because I wanted to avoid confrontation or stress. You might have ambushed me, and forced me out of my comfort zone, but I think someday, I’m gonna’ look back on that and be grateful.”

You grinned, forehead resting on his as your hand slipped down, finding his shoulder instead, and his head tipped a little further upwards.

“Now, make good on that promise.”

“Oh, I plan to..” You whispered, lips brushing against his teasingly. You stayed where you were, though, letting him lean in a little closer until he almost had his lips pressed to yours, before you were shifting. He huffed, chasing you again, and you repeated the action, making him groan at the brief teasing. You chuckled, his hand flexing around your ankle, before his hand was sliding up to your knee, and you laughed a little more at the needy action.

“You’re being cruel.” He whined, and you were ready to give in, fingertips pressing into the flesh of his shoulder through the new shirt, before there was muffled shouting from the corridor. Loud, and angry, only getting clearer as the voice moved closer to the apartment, and it wasn’t until there was a set of keys in the lock and the door was opening.

You pulled back, sitting up a little further as Stiles came in, but the man didn’t seem to notice the two of you yet. He was yelling, a series of curse words to whoever was in the corridor behind him, and you recognised the equally angry voice of Derek, before the door was slamming shut. He paused, letting out a loud scream of anger at himself as he stared at the closed door, and you twisted on the couch, kneeling on it with your arms braced along the back to look at him.

Hanging up his jacket, Stiles turned to you both, jumping as he saw you there. The anger remained for only a second, before it was melting away into guilt, quickly followed by sadness. His shoulders slumped, scowl becoming a heavy frown as the wrinkles loosened into something sad, and he was frowning at you both.

“Sorry for all the yelling.” He started at you both for a second longer, his lower lip practically wobbling with his sadness as his hands came up to clutch together in front of himself.

“Is this a best friend or a brother moment? I can’t tell, what did Derek do?” You tried to keep your voice low. Shifting your bag to the floor with a sweep of your hand to make space for Stiles, and shuffling up so that he could sit in the middle of you both.

“If it’s a sex thing, it’s definitely a best friend thing.” Noah added, and you turned to stare at him, incredulous above all, but Stiles let out a weak and watery laugh.

“It’s really nice to have you both here.” He came over, staring at the snacks that were laid out, and your bag on the floor, shoulders only slumping further. “I’m sorry for interrupting whatever the two of you were doing.”

“We weren’t doing much. Yet.” Noah sighed, and you twisted to him, glaring for his joke, and he shrugged, biting the inside of his cheek and trying to keep a serious face. “Okay, fine, I’m sorry. You wanna’ watch movies, or something?”

“Yeah. That sounds nice.” He kicked off his shoes, leaving them abandoned by the coffee table, and he settled down between you both. Placing a cushion on your lap, you patted it, and he shot you a thankful look before moving to lay down. Resting his head against the cushion, his feet landed in his brother's lap. “Will you stay?”

“If you want me to.” You mumbled, nails scraping in feather-light patterns along his hairline.

As you stroked his hair gently, he began to relax a little further, and once he did, he began to spill. He was steady long enough to select a film, one of the Star Trek movies, surprisingly, and he sat silently, eating the snacks that you had purchased, for almost twenty minutes. After the food was finished, though, he broke.

The volume on the television was turned down and he was dominating the conversation, spilling everything that was weighing on his mind and heart. The problems came back to Derek, and the future between the two of them concerning the end of college. Derek had set plans that he’d always been planning on, and Stiles wanted to be more flexible, but neither was willing to budge. The conversation had never come up before, and now, with only a couple of short months left until the decision had to be made.

He admitted how nice it was to have you both here, the three of you sitting in companionable silence to follow his confessions about his relationship, and Noah stretched his arm out along the back of the couch towards you. It wasn’t the night that either of you had expected, and it wasn’t the most exciting, but it was enough. Your fingers wove with Noah’s sitting along the back of the cushion, and Stiles was mouthing along with the words on the screen as the movie came to an end.

It was cooler now, the sun having passed beyond the horizon, and you’d texted Lydia to let her know where you were as dusk was setting in. By the time that the credits were rolling, the man with his head in your lap had fallen asleep, snoozing softly with snores that were barely audible. Noah’s thumb was stroking over your hand, and he leaned over, empty wrappers crinkling as he moved, before the television was being switched off.

“So, that didn’t exactly go as planned.”

“It’s okay. Stiles needed us.” You shrugged, fingers weaving through the sleeping boy’s hair again, and his face had finally gone back to relaxed as he rested. “I should get going, though. It’s getting late. We can just rearrange.”

You yawned, covering your mouth as you did. Using the edges of the pillow, you lifted Stiles' head, enough to slip out from underneath him and you stood up. Your head had gone numb a while back, the pins and needles having passed and you shook your leg to try and wake it back up. Your butt was aching, making you wobble with each step you took, and Noah grinned as he followed your actions.

Grabbing the stray wrappers and putting them back into the paper bag, he reached for one of the spare blankets, tucking it over his brother and making sure he was secure.

“Why don’t we have breakfast together tomorrow morning?”

“I’d like that.” Your arms looped his waist, and his circled your shoulders, pulling you a little closer. “Where?”

“Here, if you stay over?” You studied him for a second, and his eyes widened, a pink colour coating his cheekbones. “Not with me. Not, y’know, I mean-” His blush only deepened, and you chuckled at him. “I just meant that you can stay in Stiles’ room. He won’t wake up until the morning now, anyway, and you’re tired. It’s dark and you shouldn't have to go home alone.”

You smiled, leaving him hanging in the suspense for a second longer, before putting him out of the suspenseful misery. “I think that would work just fine for me.”

“Good.” He smiled, lips brushing over your forehead, before he was straightening up. “Can you get the lights and the locks, I’ll go grab you something to wear.”

He stepped back, letting you do as told, as you moved around the room. Checking the door first, you flicked the catch on the door and double-checked it, before beginning to turn off all of the lamps. Stiles was snoring to himself and rolled over, facing the back of the cushions and clutching the blankets up to his chin. Pressing a kiss to the tips of two fingers, you smoothed it over your best friend’s forehead, mentally wishing him a quick recovery from his broken heart, before turning out the final light.

Noah was waiting in the hallway when you arrived, a pair of sweats, a t-shirt and a jumper in his hands, with a ball of socks on top, and he presented them to you, a shy smile on his face.

“I don’t think I’ll need all of that. It’s the summer.”

“Well, you know, I didn’t want you to get cold in the night, or anything. Now you have options.” You took them from him, tucking them under your arm, his hands went into his pockets. You were both lingering, the darkness only illuminating you both from the light on in his room that was spilling out around him. “Okay, well, goodnight then.”

“Goodnight, Noah.” Despite the words being spoken, neither of you moved, brown eyes with wide pupils sealed on you, searching you for some kind of reaction, and he swallowed thickly. His mouth opened, more words to come, before his jaw was snapping shut again, and his brows furrowed.

“Goodnight. Again, I guess.”

“Goodnight, Noah.” You smiled, humour in your voice again, and he took a minuscule step back from you before pausing again. Taking a step with him, your hand came up, the one not clutching clothes found his shoulder, and you pressed your lips against his in a simple peck. He let out a sound that made your heart flutter, leaning in to return the affection and he kissed you back slowly, before letting you sink to the ground and step away towards Stiles’ room. He watched you go, never moving until you were giving him a final smile, and closing Stiles’ bedroom door.

Resting your back against it once you were inside, you heard his bedroom door close too, and your heart was beating so fast you could feel it all the way to your fingertips. The day had been nothing like what you’d expected, a whirlwind adventure from start to finish, but you didn’t regret a thing.

#nogit-june #nogitjune #SITS #sun in the shadows #void stiles #void stiles au #void stiles x reader #void stiles/reader #void stiles teen wolf #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien #dylan obrien teen wolf #dylan obrien void stiles #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski/reader #stiles stilinski #void month

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bigskydreaming · 3 years

Text

I am once more begging people, BEGGING, to at least READ Batman #416 if you’re going to cite every moment of Dick meeting Jason and then blowing up at Bruce, except in a totally ‘that’s not at all how it happened’ kinda way.

If I have to read ONE MORE sizzling hot take about how Dick blew up at Bruce and stormed off at the end of that encounter, when THIS is how it ACTUALLY ended....

Ah yes, the famous Dick Grayson temper, better described as ‘someone else loses their shit at Dick and fandom twists it into the exact opposite so he’s actually the bad guy all along.’

Was Dick heated before that point? Yup. Did he have reason to be? Also yup. Did Bruce, however, have reason to be heated that Dick had the gall to be coming back to his childhood home to confront him about the fact that after eighteen months of not speaking, when Bruce is the one who CHOSE to not even say goodbye to Dick or make any effort to still make a place for Dick in his life after firing him, with the only possible indication in all that time through which Dick was expected to come up with even an INKLING that Bruce missed him was discovering from reading the paper that Bruce had given his old mantle to a new, even younger partner? Its gonna be a big fat NOPE from me, guys.

There’s an exchange between them a few pages before this that always resonated with me....

Bruce: The truth is, I taught you everything I could. It was time for you to step out on your own.

Dick: So you figured the best thing for you to do was drive me out of your life, right? That’s exactly what you do to anyone who gets too close. Always hurt them before they have a chance to hurt you. It didn’t matter to you that I didn’t have any life other than the one we shared.

Like, I can not express any more clearly why it drives me so B-A-N-A-N-A-S to see people spin this so that it was Bruce that was somehow the victim of his son’s tempestuous, nomadic ways. Like he was somehow left behind, that Dick outgrew him or moved on, and everything Dick felt about Robin after the fact was him throwing spoiled temper tantrums that someone dared pick up something he no longer wanted. Umm. No times infinity and beyond.

Bruce was the one with all the power. Bruce was the one making all the choices. All Dick had, at most, was the choice to either stay somewhere Bruce seemed intent on driving him away from, or go somewhere else. This issue clearly expressed that like. Bruce wasn’t open to talking. Not when he fired Dick as Robin, there was no negotiating that, and even throughout this whole encounter here, where Dick comes here and says “I think you owe me some explanations” because based on everything Bruce was doing and how radically opposed those actions are to the last interactions he and Bruce had, which had a HUGE impact on Dick’s life, yes, he WAS owed explanations here, make no mistake....even here, Bruce spends the whole encounter acting like he’s being unfairly interrogated, like its trying his patience to even have to deal with Dick being there at all....

Phones work two ways, Bruce. There’s two people in this dynamic. If you haven’t heard from Dick in eighteen months, its equally true that he hasn’t heard from you in eighteen months. And if you missed him so damn much, you know what was always a perfectly valid way to express that, which DIDN’T involve anyone else? Picking up the damn phone and calling Dick and telling him that.

Bruce acts like that was never even an option, like HE was the one stuck with limited choices based on Dick’s behavior throughout all this time, and that’s just flat out, unconditionally, one hundred percent, NOT TRUE. Bruce was the one in charge. The one calling the shots. The one with the resources, the power, the authority. Dick was ALWAYS the one who had more to lose, of the two of them.

And Bruce knew all this when he took Dick in. He knew all this when he took Robin away from Dick while the latter was still a teenager, still living at home. And he was the one who failed to even so much as OFFER Dick an alternative take on how he could still be there, still be in Bruce’s life, part of his family, still share in being part of his life, the life the two of them had shared, now that Bruce had made the choice that Dick no longer had the option of living out his part of that life in the manner they’d BOTH built up for him originally.

And yet for so many years, fandom has added insult to injury by acting like the cherry on top here, Bruce giving away the very mantle he took from Dick, like this was somehow completely reasonable because in comparison, Dick is the one being unreasonable. People completely gloss over that little act of Bruce’s to focus instead on how Dick reacted, instead of giving that betrayal of trust its own fair due and focus, and the problem is....they don’t even actually focus on how Dick actually acted! Again, notice it was Dick who approached Bruce, and Bruce who told Dick to leave. It was Dick who had actual cause to be angry, but Bruce who blew up and broke shit because Dick dared demand answers.

And this is the way Dick leaves things with Jason, btw. I know people know this part by now, mostly at least, about the phone number and such, but how many people have actually SEEN how that played out rather than just heard it summarized in a dry recitation of events that underplays just how that interaction went?

Like, that wasn’t just Dick acting like this was being FORCED upon him and bleeding reluctance at every turn. He went above and fucking beyond to make Jason feel welcomed and secure in his position as Robin. But that’s not how the narrative goes in fandom, is it? Even when acknowledging this part, people act like Dick was at most doing the bare minimum, instead of acknowledging that Dick didn’t owe anyone this at all. No, it wasn’t Jason’s fault he became Robin, but NONE of this was Dick’s fault, Dick’s choice, or Dick’s RESPONSIBILITY. He wasn’t living at home, in Bruce’s life, and he wasn’t adopted yet let alone even still Bruce’s ward at this point. He’d aged out at eighteen. Dick had NO actual ties to Bruce and by extension Jason at this particular moment in time, and thus no ACTUAL obligations to either of them, no matter how much fandom harps on him having failed Jason as a brother back during this time when more accurately, Bruce was actively failing Dick as a father - as in not even being one, but Dick’s responsibilities towards a family he didn’t have at the moment are supposed to be still intact? NOPE. Don’t think so.

But Dick, INSTEAD, puts Jason FIRST, puts him OVER his obviously hurt and bitter feelings to focus on what’s best for Jason here, and gives him literally everything he CAN to do right by Jason here. He gives Jason his own old costume and clear approval, cementing Jason’s place as Robin in a way not even Bruce could when giving it to Jason, because it was never Bruce’s to actually pass on. Jason even wonders earlier in the issue if Dick might want his old role back, and Dick puts that fear to rest, without any hesitation or doubt.

In addition, Dick offers up support and solidarity he doesn’t owe Jason, doesn’t owe anyone, because its HIS time, HIS support, its not something someone can take for granted and yet too many people do....especially considering that in the hyper-fixation on how much support and time Dick supposedly DIDN’T offer or grant Jason, most people pay next to no attention to the fact that it wasn’t like Dick was being given time or support by Bruce, ie Dick is going out of his way to offer stuff he’s not even getting himself, because he RECOGNIZES from that what its like not to have it. Basically what I mean is all that talk about Dick being a hypocrite for doing to others what he complains about Bruce not doing for him? Patently untrue, as we see here, because this is Dick actively acting upon what he’s missing out on by making sure that others don’t miss out on it because of Bruce’s failings or emotional repression.

And look at the end result.....Jason’s enjoying his teamup with Dick, these aren’t two people who look pained at being forced into proximity or acting like the other is a burden to be around or thinking the other doesn’t really want to be here. They were comfortable from practically the word go, because Dick knows how to make people uncomfortable but he also knows how to make people comfortable, and he made the CHOICE, the INTENT to make sure he was someone Jason felt WANTED to be there with him, the complete opposite of someone who is taking out their bitterness or resentment on their replacement or at least not trying to hide it very well.

So my question is.....what the hell else is it people wanted Dick to do? When they cite this issue specifically, at least, when they talk about the time Dick went to Gotham to confront Bruce about Robin, when they talk about the phone number or the costume or the teamup or the things that so often get mentioned in passing like they’re insignificant or the bare minimum or mere formalities that do nothing to take away from all the supposed OTHER asshole behavior that Dick allegedly heaped on Jason despite never actually happening anywhere, even a little bit, and thus that some people claim is just an extrapolation of how Dick PROBABLY acted off the page, given his clear resentment and jealousy....umm. Huh? Based off THIS? Seriously, I mean it. What ELSE was Dick supposed to have done, to counter that take, what else could he POSSIBLY have done to do right by Jason here, that he didn’t actually already do? What exactly did people want from this character, in order to not hold this eternal grudge they have against him for what a big old jerk he was to Jason, who did nothing to deserve it - with that part being true at least, and literally WHY Dick made the point to recognize that and not take out his feelings on Jason?

Like, this will never not be an axe for me to grind because like. The SPIN fandom always gives all this, when look at the last page of this issue......Bruce is watching from a distance, and even he’s like thanks Dick, and that honestly bugs me so much. Because in the end, the only one of these three characters who DIDN’T get what he wanted here, was Dick. Jason got the validation and security as Robin he was looking for, the approval of his predecessor, and words of advice and an offer to listen and be there should he ever want to talk. Bruce got Dick’s validation of the actions Bruce took that he had no right to take when giving his old mantle to Jason, but that Dick ratified all the same, even if it was for Jason’s sake and not Bruce’s. Bruce still got the closure on that particular mistake of his, with the evidence that Dick was willing to see past it for Jason’s sake rather than drag it out....like. Dick is the only one who didn’t get what he was looking for there, he didn’t even get an apology from Bruce for overstepping when he passed on Dick’s mantle, an acknowledgment that this was WRONG, the most Dick got was Bruce admitting for a single panel that he missed him.....before telling Dick to leave and get out and effectively taking back anything Dick could have possibly taken away from that admittance. Because what the fuck does it matter if someone misses you if even though they finally have you right there in front of them, they still tell you to leave again anyway?

In conclusion, I hate this issue, lol, because everybody seems to know what’s in it and yet practically nobody ever seems interested in referencing what’s ACTUALLY in it. Instead just forever playing telephone with the most bad faith interpretation of Dick’s actions possible.

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shorkbrian · 4 years

Note

Any chances you'll write for Levi again? It's his birthday so i was scrolling and saw your drabble for him.

I missed his birthday FRICK. Well, I have a song that makes me soft and is a vibe while reading this. https://open.spotify.com/track/68XhCrBajUR64h6wv4eYYW?si=M4wxQMwiRnqGrvn2uPlUqw

and happy holidays to everyone lol

(Warnings - NSFW, no penetration, dubcon, gratuitous blowjob scene.

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He’s called for you again.

You fix a cup of tea, just how you know he prefers it, trying to hurry through the motions, pouring the boiling water, steeping the leaves, adding the slightest touch of honey.

When you reach his room, you’re glad you’ve brought the tea. Upon opening the door, you can see that tonight will be rough, full of jealousy and unintended pain.

Levi has thrown things to the floor in anger, books, candles, paper and pen. He hardly ever leaves a mess, is meticulous about cleaning them up as soon as he makes them. It’s unlike his normal demeanor to be so disorderly.

The man is slouched in a chair by the wall, barely raises his head when you enter. He twitches despite the care you take in shutting the door, trying your best to close it quietly.

“Captain Levi? Sir?” You held in your gasp as he lifted his head. The captain looked awful - dark circles hung under his eyes, his posture was hunched and tired, and worst of all, his eyes were red and puffy, as if he’d been crying.

Captain Levi hardly ever cried.

“(Y/N), go sit on the bed.”

Without a word, you did as you were told, placing his cup of tea on the nightstand as you sat. Levi slowly stood, straightening his back out as he did.

“I’m....” He trailed off, stepping towards the bed. His eyes were kept downcast, unable to meet your questioning gaze.

You were aware that something had probably happened on today’s push beyond the wall. Less than half of the group that had gone over had come back, Erwin and Levi grim-faced at the head of the group. Too many deaths.

“Captain… tell me-tell me how to help?” You were used to it by now, pushing aside discomfort and embarrassment to cater to your captain.

He was a harsh man, face always lowered into a disinterested scowl, not hesitant to snap at anyone who irked him or raised his ire. He made crude jokes when he was in a good mood, swearing and letting a cruel smile cross his lips.

The man had a reputation - intimidating, rigid, competent and unwavering. But with you, the menacing Captain Levi was… different.

You weren’t sure when it had started.

All you had wanted to do was provide a small bit of comfort on what had seemed to be an awful day for the Captain, much like today. He had stormed through the mess hall, ignoring the cadets shrinking away at his prescence to march straight to the kitchen. Only higher ranking members could enter the kitchens, other than staff, so it wasn’t busy.

He had grabbed a plate from the cleaned rack of dishes, dished out food, then swiftly headed for the kitchen door again, only to snap at the first staff that got in his way; you.

Feeling awful as he stormed past you, committing nothing more than the crime of standing in his way for more than a mere second, you had tried to make amends.

It was common knowledge that the Captain had an affinity for tea. A nice cup offered to the man would perhaps lift his mood. At the very least, it would soothe your conscious - you felt guilty for worsening his evening.

So that’s what you did.

He had let you in his room with a curt “come in”, and you quickly explained what the tea was for, quick to set it on the small table he was seated at before the Captain could snap at you to leave.

“Drink it if you find it satisfactory, if not, feel free to dump it out the window. Again, so sorry for disturbing you Captain, sir, but I hope your evening goes well.”

And then you had left.

And Levi’s curiosity was piqued. Who were you, to be so bold as to feel entitled to his time? A lowly kitchen staff? You thought of yourself so highly, thought you knew him well enough to know how he took his tea? Pretentious.

But still, he found himself raising the cup to his lips, taking a sip, testing the taste. And admittedly, you didn’t know how he fixed his own tea. You had made it too sweet, with too much honey. The sweetness burned his tongue, scorched his throat far worse than hot water ever could.

He liked it.

Levi found himself seeking you out, finding out from the head cook who the kitchen staff were, who you were. When you worked, which barracks you stayed in, if you were always kind and sweet to rude people you didn’t even know.

You were surprised when the head cook had told you that Levi asked for more tea.

Of course, you brought it to him.

And at first, he never talked to you. He just watched you set down his tea, watched you give a small wave and a friendly, respectful curtsy before leaving.

Then he asked you to bring yourself a cup the next night, to sit with him.

Since it was Captain Levi, you couldn’t refuse.

Of course you were a bit intimidated - had you been doing something wrong? Was he going to fire you? But the man had said few words, just sipped his tea, watched as you blew at your own steaming cup.

It was an uncomfortable affair, at least for you, so it was surprising to you that he kept asking you to sit with him.

You start to see him often, more often than you previously had. He lingers in the mess hall, taking meals at the high ranks tables, and you always feel his eyes on you when you bring out more food to place on the buffet-style tables at the front. You often found him heading for seconds when you were adding food to the table, and he often said hello in his gruff, curt way.

Captain Levi was seen patrolling the area near the staff barracks, checking windows, checking doors, making sure everything was proper and safe. You could feel his presence, see his shadow sometimes when he passed by the window.

Between mealtimes, when you weren’t washing dishes or helping to prepare for the next meal, you were allowed breaks. You spent these breaks reading, or taking short walks along the inside of the garrison walls. It spooked you when you began seeing Levi nearby, apparently deciding to train the cadets near your common reading spots, or sometimes appearing suddenly during one of your walks.

He’d walk with you, not uttering a word, just strolling beside you in silence. You didn’t try to speak - he didn’t seem to be looking for conversation, simply companionship. And his presence, while unsettling, wasn’t entirely unwelcome - you knew that Captain Levi was one of the most capable fighters in the Survey Corps, and no Titan nor human would be able to hurt you unless he allowed it.

Despite his bitter demeanor, it was easy to see how much Levi cared for his underlings well-being. Always trying to make sure they were safe, risking his own life for them, pushing them to the brink and beyond during training so he could ensure that they could defend themselves during an attack.

The awkward tea-time turned into small chats, were Levi asked you about your home, your hobbies, your likes and dislikes.

Surprisingly, Levi didn’t shy away from answering when you yourself asked the same questions.

You became privy to his rough upbringing, the tragedy of his mother, the few friends he had made and lost.

The more the two of you talked, the more you understood his rough exterior, why he was cynical and brusque and mean.

But he became softer with you.

You weren’t sure when comfortable companionship, tentative friendship, had turned into unpleasant touches, quiet confessions, time spent together that you began to loathe and tried to avoid.

But some part of you understood, and felt bad.

Levi had never known someone in an intimate sense. Not like this, not like you. He could force you to submit to him, it could be an ordeal of tears and blood and despair for both of you, but if you went along with his whims willingly, the both of you were spared the pain.

Yes, you experienced discomfort, and unease, and you weren’t entirely happy about some of the things Levi asked of you, but you knew the man was tired, and hurting, and desperate for soft words and kind touches.

The man had wanted simple favors at first. A touch here, a light brush of his hand on your shoulder or a lingering caress of your hand if it rested on the table. Then it was sitting closer together, letting him brush your hair away from your face, his hand finding a home on the plush skin of your thigh as you two talked.

Then it was his late-night confessions, when he kept you past curfew, after the tea cups had long been dry. He told you how he wanted…. You. He wasn’t sure what it was that he needed, but it had to be from you.

He would take it, force it from you, whether it was sex or feelings or some twisted desire. He could, and both of you knew that he had the skills to completely subdue you.

But you caved immediately, feeling like a crumb of bread in the face of a raven.

Satisfied with your answer, the man had taken you that night, slowly peeled off your clothes and laid you on his bed like a lover. He had noticed your trembling, the tears clouding your vision, and he could tell this wasn’t something that you wanted to willingly give to him.

But he took anyway.

He had never allowed himself to be selfish, to want things for himself, to afford thinking thoughts of a loving partner, kindness and gentle treatment with his rude and brash personality.

Levi had made it good for you - he had bedded women before, to sate his physical desires when they so rarely arose. But with you, unlike those other women, he wanted you to stay in his life, be there for him when he craved the sweetness you provided in your tea, in your body, in you. He wanted you to be his constant, the person he could turn to, always.

And so you where.

You were when he pulled you into his quarters at odd hours, just to share heated kisses and let his hands wander across your flesh.

At times when he was frustrated, angry, and needed a rough fuck to find his calm again.

Whenever Levi needed to feel the heat of another’s body, to experience pleasure and love and feelings of warmth and desire, you were the person he turned to.

It’s why he turned to you now.

“I’d like to hold you.” It was more of a command, an order, than a question.

Shuffling on the bed, you scooted back so he could sit down, so he could gently push your shoulders so you fell back onto the pillows. The man crawled closer, flopping down beside you with a tired, wretched sigh, one that made your bones ache in sympathy.

You were so used to the Captain taking what he wanted, you didn’t even cringe when an arm was slung over your chest, grabbing you, pulling you close to him. He buried his face in your neck, throwing a leg over your hip and an arm over your waist, completely plastering himself to your side.

The sounds of your breathing filled the room - your uneasy, disturbed rhythm accompanying his rapid, shuddering breaths.

It was only when wetness smear across your neck, did you realize that the man was crying.

You knew how that could feel, lungs burning, shoulders aching, heart squeezed and deadened in your chest. How you longed for comfort, for someone to hold you and soothe the pain.

So you tentatively drew your own hand around his slim shoulders, your other hand rising to play with a strand of thin hair, drawing him closer to you.

In some twisted, pathetic turn, you felt sorry for the man.

Sorry that he felt such pain, such anguish. Sorry that so much responsibility rested on his shoulders. The responsibility of keeping his soldiers alive, of protecting humanity, of fighting in life-or-death situations where he was forced to watch his comrades be torn to shreds. Sorry that he was stressed, that the world had beaten him down and never allowed him a quiet, easy life.

Most of all, you think you were sorry that he asked things of you that you weren’t comfortable in answering.

How do you tell a killing machine no? How does one go about turning away a sad, lost soul looking for company and warmth? How would you live with yourself if you put your own comfort higher than a man who was so integral to the continuation of humanity’s existence?

You could deal with the gross feelings in order to be of service.

It always surprised you, how a man so interested in cleanliness could make you feel so dirty.

Considerable time passed before Levi’s shaky, silent sobs evolved into normal breathing. He had cried his tears, let his sadness overflow in the safety of your arms.

Now he was content to hold you, to grip your form with such intensity that you were sure you’d have bruises along your waist.

You feel asleep like that, his arms tight around you, trapping your body close to his, making you feel every rise and fall of his chest, every steady beat of his heart.

——-

You woke up to movement.

It was still night, it must be, with the lit candles still burning at the bedside.

Levi was slowly grinding against you, his leg still slung over your hip, hard length rubbing against your stomach. You could feel a tiny hint of wetness seeping through your shirt, meaning Levi must’ve been at this a while to have leaked enough to soak through not only his own pants, but your shirt as well.

“(Y/N)…” He breathed, noticing you had stirred awake. A breathy sigh escaped the man, before his hips stopped moving. “Suck me off.”

Still half-asleep and blinking your eyes, you only managed to look at your captain, dazed.

A slow smile spread across his face as he took in your sleepy expression, but then he nudged your side again, insistent. “Suck me off, you got me all hard and now I’ve ruined my pants.”

As if it were fault that he was like this.

Finally registering his request, you moved down the bed to the man’s crotch, helping him shimmy off his sleep pants and underwear as you did so.

His cock wasn’t girthy, nor particularly long. It was pretty though, with a flushed tip, a pale base, and fat, firm balls underneath.

Without further ado, you set your mouth on him, gathering spit to slicken his length (not that you needed to, not with how much the man had leaked) before slowly making your way down. Drawing back a bit, you sucked at the crown, cringing a bit at how Levi’s entire cock twitched, the man drawing in a sharp inhale.

He was particularly sensitive there, just under the head, so you flicked your tongue against that spot a few times, heard him hiss in pleasure, before slurping back down along his length, taking him as far down your throat as you could manage.

Levi couldn’t help the rocking of his hips, the twitches of his cock. “Touch my balls (Y/N), please.”

You were surprised to hear him say please. He only offered such niceties when he was in a vulnerable, soft mood. His balls were plump, round, full to bursting with sperm. The skin was velvety soft as your rubbed at it, massaging the mounds with your palms, before rubbing over them quickly with the tips of your fingers.

Levi groaned, a hand clutching at the strands of your hair to anchor himself.

It was an uncomfortable feeling. You never liked when he touched you, and you never enjoyed touching him, but you bore it with no complaint, let him do as he pleased without a fight. Submission was easier.

His cock kept pulsing in your mouth, making you gag and choke around his length, which only seemed to draw him more pleasure. Despite the discomfort, you still did your best, hollowing your cheeks out to suck, hard.

Levi’s hips bucked up unexpectedly, hitting the back of your throat so quickly that you almost threw up with the intensity, immediately pulling off of his length with a hacking cough.

You let it rest against your cheek as you regained your breath, feeling it drool and twitch as if it were alive and hungry.

Levi let you rest; he knew you’d take him back into your mouth in a second, always eager to obey him.

And you did, sucking him with renewed vigor. The taste of his cock wasn’t entirely unpleasant, Levi kept himself clean and trimmed, so there was only the slightest hint of natural musk, but that was easily overwhelmed by the bitter taste of soap and the salty taste of sweat and skin.

Then Levi tugged your hair a bit, drawing your attention away from his cock and up to his face. “Slow down, I don’t want to cum too soon.”

He was in the mood to draw this out it seemed. You eased up on the suction of your cheeks, letting your cheeks go with a smacking sound. Apparently that felt good, since Levi sighed, rolling his head back to rest on the pillows.

The picture of relaxed pleasure.

Going slower now, you paused to let his length slip out of your mouth, giving the sides long, sensual licks, digging your tongue into the slit at the top.

You’d suck him back into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his length, before popping off again, this time going for his well-groomed balls, slathering them with spit as you lapped at the skin.

Eventually, you grew tired, your jaw sore. It’s not like you wanted to do this in the first place, but now you were physically feeling ache-y.

Taking him into your mouth one last time, you dug deep, sucking vigorously at his length, drawing him down your throat, trying to get him to the edge as quick as you could.

And it worked, because the next thing you knew, a spurt of cum hit your tongue.

With a gag at the taste, you whipped your head back, Levi’s cock falling out of your mouth. But with his grip still in your hair, he kept your head close, watching his cum stripe across your face with satisfaction.

Levi was breathing heavily, almost panting as he finished, and you were glad you had closed your eyes - you didn’t want to see the look on his face, eyes filled with an emotion you didn’t want to label.

At least he was kind afterwards, helped you clean it up.

His tea was still sitting on the nightstand, long gone cold. Levi offered you a sip still, and you readily accepted the liquid, soothing your throat

When you settled down again, face now washed and free of cum, Levi once again pulled you close to him. This time, his chin rested atop your head, his hands cradling your head to his chest.

You felt gentle vibrations as he hummed softly, and you internally thanked him for small mercies - not having you strip tonight, not fucking you, not making you feel good.

There was such guilt when he pleasured you. How could something unwanted feel so good? There must be something wrong with you, to get off on his ministrations.

It was easier for you to not dwell on those feelings.

Easier to just lay in Levi’s arms, and listen to the beat of his heart.

#levi ackerman #yandere levi #yandere Levi Ackerman #levi x reader #captain levi #dark levi #levi aot #dark aot #tw Dubcon #yandere #levi heichou #idk tags lol #Yandere aot #yandere attack on titan #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #ackerman

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Too Loose And You’ll Lose It

Ch8: Same Old, Brand New You Co-Written with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Summary: Jake and Stella spend a bit of time together at home, rekindling their same old, brand new romance.

Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson

Warnings: Bad language, Smut (NSFW, 18+) Word Count: 6.5k ish

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. We do not own any characters in this series bar Stella Stevenson and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N: So enjoy this fluffy smutty chapter as from the next one, shit starts getting real...

TLAYLI Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 7 Part 3

Jake woke a few hours later, his face buried in Stella’s hair, one arm draped over her waist, the other was beneath her, laying just below the pillow. He shifted slightly, before he sighed a little at the pressure in his bladder telling him he needed to pee. As gently and as quietly as he could, he untangled himself from Stella, who was sleeping soundly and turned, swinging his legs off the side of her bed.

The clock on the dresser was telling him it was only five minutes to midnight, but all things considered they had gone to bed fairly early, both of them wiped out after an emotionally and physically charged few days, or weeks even, since Pooch’s wedding. He cracked his neck, rolling it across his shoulders as he padded into the bathroom, yawning. Once he’d sorted himself out, he washed his hands and ran them through his messed up hair, scratching at his bare chest, before he made his way to the stairs. He headed down, blinking himself awake as he went. He couldn’t see particularly well without his glasses which lay on the bedside table, but it wasn’t like it mattered all things considered. He knew his way around the Stevenson house with his eyes closed. However, as he reached the bottom he immediately noticed the sliver of light coming from the kitchen meaning that someone was in there, and given that Stella was in bed, it could only be her mom.

Unless they’d been broken into. But then, what kind of burglar turns on the lights?

Jake opened the door and peered in. Sure enough, Jules looked up at him from where she had just finished folding some ironing and she smiled.

“Hey, Jake. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just wanted to grab a drink.” He nodded. “That okay?”

“Course it is. In fact, I was just about to make myself a camomile tea before I headed up to bed. Do you want one?”

Jake could have quite happily grabbed a bottle of water, he wasn’t all that bothered about the tea, but something on Jules’ face as she waited for his answer told him to take her up on her offer. So he did with a thanks, and she then nodded to a smaller piles of clothes on the table. Jensen noticed that in true mom form, she had indeed washed and dried their soaking clothes from before.

“Put your T-shirt on.”

“Me being topless in your kitchen making you nervous, Jules?” He grinned as he reached for it and she scoffed, folding away the ironing board.

“The pair of you came back soaked before, I don’t want you catching a chill.”

With a smile Jake pulled it over his head, the familiar smell of Stella’s laundry detergent hitting his senses. It was one she used herself, she’d never changed it, not once, always saying it reminded her of home.

The kitchen fell silent as Jules boiled the kettle and made them the tea, before she returned to the table and placed one down in front of him.

“Thanks.” He smiled at her as she sat in the chair opposite him. He yawned a little before he took a sip of his drink.

“Am I keeping you up, sweetheart?” Jules asked and Jensen shook his head.

“No, it’s just been a long few weeks that’s all.”

“Yeah, I know.” Jules looked at him. “Stella’s been exhausted.” She took a sip of her drink, her eyes not leaving him. “And upset.”

Jake sighed, “I know.”

Jules studied him again for a moment before she leaned back in her chair. “Suppose it doesn’t matter, it’s done with for now but, are you sure the pair of you know what you’re doing?”

Jake frowned a little. “In what way?”

“Well, I mean she was with Evan for six months,” Jules held her hand up to stop Jensen as he was about to cut in, “she might not have loved him, yes, I heard all about that, but she was fond of him. To be honest we all were and I certainly don’t approve of her cheating on him with you in Mexico.” She looked at him, her eyebrows raised and Jake felt his cheeks flushing with heat. “You should know by now, Jacob, there are no secrets between me and my girls, well, not many that is.”

“I’m not sorry about that night.” Jensen shook his head. “I mean, I’m sorry it upset Stella as much as it did and I’m not particularly proud of my behaviour, any of it over the last few twelve months or so if I’m honest but…”

“What’s done is done. I guess I’m just a little worried that she’s finished it with him and barely a fortnight later the pair of you are back together.”

“I know how it looks, Jules. Honestly I do. And I’m not stupid enough to think that things can just go back to how they were. We got a lot to talk about, a lot to work through, but I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t try again. And she’s given me a second…or third…whatever, she’s given me another chance here and I wanna give it the best shot I can.”

“Well, Jake, you never do anything half-cocked that’s for sure.” Jules gave him a soft smile as she sipped her drink. “And I don’t need to ask you if you love her, because I know you do, you always have. But please, show it to her. Don’t take her for granted. Ever again.”

Jensen sighed and looked at Jules. “I know, I fucked up and if I was in your shoes I wouldn’t be happy about her taking me back either…”

“I’m not unhappy about it.” Jules cut him off. “How can I be? She loves you, and you make her happy. But I just don’t want to see her hurt again. Because if you do, Jake, then we," she pointed between the two of them, "will fall out. Big time.”

The threat might have appeared to anyone else as innocuous, but Jake knew the undercurrent it held. He’d never fallen out with Jules before, even when he and Stella had split up, and for her to threaten that made him uncomfortable. Momma bear was in full on protective mode over her cub, and he couldn’t blame her one single bit.

“I promise you, I don’t ever want to lose her again.” Jake shook his head, giving a little shrug. “She’s my Stel.”

“Good because you’re my little boy, you know this.” Jules smiled. “I watched you grow up as much as I did her, and I didn’t like seeing you both fall apart.”

“I know. And that’s on me.” Jensen hung his head a little, his hands wrapping around the now almost empty mug in front of him on the table as he swallowed and raised his head to look Julie in the eyes. “But if I have to spend the rest of my life making it up to her, I will.”

At that Julie smiled, and nodded before she cleared her throat and made a point of looking at the clock on the wall. “It’s late.”

It was her way of telling him the conversation was over, Jake knew Julie well enough to understand that, so he nodded and stood up as she did the same, collecting his mug. He watched her deposit them in the sink and as she turned back to him he cocked his head slightly to one side.

“Jules?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I hug you?” He grinned, holding his arms out.

The woman chuckled, “there’s always a Julie hug waiting for you, Jacob.”

With a grin Jake stepped towards her and wrapped his arms tight around her as she did the same, her hands softly rubbing at his back in the maternal manner she had off to a tee.

“Now, go on.” She stepped back as he released her. “And take those dry clothes up with you.”

With a smile, Jake collected the items in his arms and looked at Julie. “You know, it’s only since leaving home I actually appreciate how great moms are.”

“Huh,” Julie gave a low huff of a laugh, “you’re growing up my dear Jacob.”

“Had to happen eventually I suppose.” Jensen wrinkled his nose.

“Well, better late than never.” Julie arched her eyebrow, the resemblance between her and Stella in that moment was striking, even though from photos Jake had seen, he’d always thought Stella took after her dad mostly. Same colour eyes, nose shape, hair colour, but now…well, there was no doubting Julie was her mom.

With a smile he patted the jeans on the top of the pile in his arms. “Night Jules.”

“Night Jake, oh, usual for breakfast?” She asked and Jake paused in the doorway, turning to face her.

“You know, I was actually thinking I’d make Stel toast in bed, it’s been a while since I have.”

Julie smiled “Well you know where it all is.”

“I do. Hey, might even make you some, you know I’ve always wanted to get into your bedroom.” He quipped and at that she laughed.

”Get lost before I slap you.”

Chuckling to himself, Jensen headed back upstairs and into Stella’s room, placing the clothing down on the dresser. Stella had turned over whilst he’d been gone, facing the side of the bed he’d occupied half an hour or so previously and with a smile he pulled off his tee-shirt and slid back into the covers, as Stella gave a little murmur and reached out for him. He slid his arms around her, pulling her close, her head tucked under his chin as one of her legs slipped in between his, wrapping herself round him with the manner of a koala bear.

“Where did you go?” She asked, her voice rough with sleep, her eyes not opening.

“I was reconnecting with my future mother in law.” He replied, dropping a kiss to her head.

“What?” she asked, giving a little yawn and Jake chuckled.

“Nothing, go back to sleep.”

Jensen closed his eyes, his hands softly rubbing at Stella’s back over the top of the thin camisole top she had on, and eventually he felt her completely relax in his hold and it wasn’t long before he too drifted back off into a peaceful sleep.

****

When Stella woke up the next morning, the sun had barely started to peek over the horizon. Her face was pressed into Jake’s back, her arms wrapped around him from behind as she curled around him, her leg tangled between his. She pressed a soft kiss on his back before she stirred, stretching a little.

Jake gave a soft sigh as she moved a little behind him, his arm reaching up to hers which was slung over his hips, hand resting on his abs. “Morning, Stelly.” His voice was raspy, thick with sleep as he raised her hand to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to the inside of her wrist.

“Morning Jakey. Did I wake you?”

“Not really.” He yawned. With a stretch of his limbs he moved and Stella shuffled back a little to allow him the room to roll onto his side, facing her, that adorable goofy grin spreading across his face.

Stella gave him a shy smile, her cheeks tinged ever so slightly with pink. “Hi.”

“Hi, baby.” He chuckled, instantly understanding why she was feeling that way. Whilst this sure as hell wasn’t the first time they’d woken up together, it felt different, like this was something new that was just starting. And in a way it was, their second shot at something serious. And just the mere thought of that filled his chest with warmth.

“You sleep well?” She continued and Jake smiled softly, reaching up to tuck her sleep mussed hair behind her ears.

“I always do when you’re with me.” He whispered and her eyes sparkled in the early morning light as she looked at him, a soft expression on her face as he felt her react to the intimate touch, her body shivering ever so slightly, her chest hitching. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Sorta, I erm, I was dreaming all this wasn’t real, that you and I had fought really hard and had gone our separate ways and... I was so relieved when I woke up next to you.” Her words were hurried and Jake shook his head, his eyes locked into hers.

“Not a chance, Stel. I told you, I’m not gonna let you go again, I love you.”

At that he leaned in, his lips pressing to hers in a slow, gentle kiss as his strong arms wrapped around her, one sliding under her neck, the other over her waist.

She grinned against his mouth. “Say it again, I like to hear you say it.”

“I-“ kiss, “love-“ another kiss, “you.”

Her body melted into his as his tongue dipped into her mouth. With a soft, yet strong movement he rolled them gently so Stella was on her back, hovering over her, caging her with his legs as his arms continued to hold her close.

“I love you too, Jake.” She whispered as she broke the kiss, her nose bumping his gently and he smiled, his lips gently pecking hers again before he moved down, nipping at her jawline softly.

His lips softly moved down her neck, gentle kisses, like the flutter of a butterfly's wing. Jake wanted to enjoy each and every place on her body, from her cheeks to her sweetest parts, he wanted nothing more than to feel the way her body would cling to him. To feel something more than what he'd been feeling for so long. And he was going to take his sweet time in showing Stella just how much he truly loved her.

His gentle kisses moved back up to that spot where her jaw met her ear and he softly nudged it with his nose in between kisses. "Let me love on you, Stelly."

Stella gave out a squeak at the deep baritone of his words, the hot breath in her ear and she tilted her hips into his as he led over her. Jake pulled away, a slow and soft smile spreading over his lips.

His arms moved from where they had been holding her and his hands gripped at the hem of the oversized tee she was wearing and he tugged it upwards, Stella arching her back, just enough so he could pull it over her head. Caging her in with his arms, he bent his neck down and captured her lips again in a kiss, long and languid, slowly rolling his tongue around with hers. Breaking free, and using his strength to stay over her, Jake continued to kiss down her neck, reaching her collarbone and giving the protrusion a nip, before kissing the sting away.

One hand covered a breast, kneading the flesh with his palm while his mouth took in the opposite nipple. His warm tongue lolled over her hardened peak and he gave a little tug between his teeth, drawing a quiet groan from her mouth. He kissed between the valley of her breasts and up her sternum before his mouth replaced his hand and paid the same attention to her other nipple and breast, his opposite hand now kneading the other.

Stella's breathy, soft moans were music to Jake’s ears. Her noises were soft, delicate because they both knew where they were and how quiet they had to be. As Jake took his time with her, Stella relished on this soft moment. Her skin felt like she was in a bath of fizzy bubbles, tingling and popping with each touch or stroke.

Her hands gently gripped at his spiky, sleep messed hair as she sighed with pleasure, her head tipped back against the pillow as she arched off the mattress into his touch.

Jake continued to make moves downward along Stella's body, her tummy his blank canvas to work her over with. Sporadic kisses over her taught middle, a dip of a tongue in her belly button had her whispering for release but Jake wasn't through with her, no, this was all about Stella and giving her all he could and more.

He was rock hard, his dick visibly straining his sweats and he was grateful he hadn't worn his boxers to bed thanks to them being in the laundry due to them being soaked to the skin the previous night. His body moved along the mattress, as he moved downward over Stella's body, his broad chest now hovering over her hot and wet centre as his lips kissed in a horizontal pattern along the waistband of her panties.

Thick fingers curled around the hips of Stella's underwear and pulled the material away, Stella tilting her hips upward to assist. Jake sat back on his knees as he finished the task, tossing the panties to the floor of her room. It was now, when all he could do was fight back the knot in his belly, the swell of his chest, that his deep blue eyes looked at all of her. And suddenly, he was a little nervous, but desperately needed to feel her.

He toyed with taking his time with her or just going for it, and when Stella spoke to him at just above a whisper he knew his answer.

"Jakey, please."

His sweats were down to his thighs in a snap and he palmed his cock in hand, stroking himself just a little as he lined himself up with her. The feel of her wet outer folds against the velvety head of his cock felt so good and with a brush of pressure to her throbbing clit, Stella gasped and bit her lip.

Jake slipped right inside of her, his arms coming to rest on each side of her head as he pushed deeper in. Both emitting a moan louder than they should have.

"Shhhh," Jake whispered, hovering above her lips. "We gotta be quite, Stelly."

She nodded underneath him, and his hips pulled back and thrust forward, a slow and lazy roll to them. His movements were deep and strong, her body moving with his as his chest slid along her skin with each powerful drive into her he made.

Stella tilted her hips upward along with her head, capturing Jake's lips so they could swallow each other's calls of desire. With her hip tilt, Jake was able to rub the head of his thick cock against that soft spot inside that made her melt.

There was no hurry but there was a deep intensity to the way they continued to connect. Thrusts and breathy pants, moans swallowed by deep kisses. Stella's walls began to flutter around Jake's shaft as he began to pulse against her insides.

"Oh fuck, Stella," he croaked at her ear. He was close and so was she.

"So close," she whimpered, as if to affirm what he was already feeling as her hands ran over his spine and back up his neck, her fingers scratching at the base.

They came together with a white hot flash, stars flooding their vision, their cries of love crashing over that cliff swallowed up by a beautiful kiss.

As Jake emptied inside her, he buried his face into the crook of her neck, thankful for the ability to mask the pooled eyes he squinted shut. When he felt he could, he leaned back and saw the two tears that leaked from her own eyes and with the cradle of his palms against her face, his thumbs wiped them away.

Stella saw nothing but tenderness and true love reflected in Jake's eyes. This moment would forever be in her memory bank. Sleeping and being together had been a common occurrence for the two of them, even when they weren’t a couple, but this had felt as intense as it ever had. The way she felt, the way he made her feel, it was her Jakey. The goofy, weird, sarcastic beautiful Jake Jensen she had always loved. The man who made her feel things she could never with anyone else, no matter how hard she'd tried. He was home, he was safety, and his promises for forever had re-stolen her heart.

"I love you." Stella whispered to him.

"I love you, too." he replied softly.

With himself still inside her, he managed to roll the two of them so he was on his back and she led over his body, her knees in either side of his hips. Stella laid her head against his sweat sticky chest, her cheek pressed right against his heart. His fingers ran through her hair as they both fell back asleep for just a little while longer.

****

Later that day, just after lunchtime, Jake walked the short distance back to his parents. He hopped up the steps to the front door and removed his keys from his pocket and let himself in. His timing perfect, as ever, saw him step into the hallway at the exact moment his dad walked down the stairs.

“Oh, you decided to show up then?” John scoffed as he stood looking at his son.

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, you little shit, your sister told me everything.” John replied, his voice carrying a hint of amusement as he folded his arms.

“Define everything.” Jake grimaced a little and his dad snorted.

“I know exactly what happened in Mexico and why you came home.” John shook his head as he walked past Jensen into the lounge. “Don’t worry, we’re not offended in the slightest you didn’t come here first.”

Jake rolled his eyes as his dad sank into the arm chair, reaching for the TV remote. “It wasn’t on purpose Dad. In my defence, I didn’t really have a grand plan. I had like an hour to make the flight, I didn’t even bring a bag.”

“Yeah, well, by the expression on your face I assume it went well.” John looked at him, a smirk flickering across his face and Jensen grinned.

“Yeah, yeah it did.”

“So, when are you heading back?”

Jensen shrugged. “Not sure, probably in a few days or so.”

“Great.” John pressed a button on the remote, waving his hand towards the door of the room. “Now go tell your mother, she’s gonna be over the moon when she finds out.”

“You didn’t tell her why I was here?” Jake frowned, removing his jacket and tossing it over the arm of the sofa.

“Nope.” John shook his head, his eyes fixed on the Sunday Lunchtime show on the TV. “I didn’t want her to be disappointed if you fucked up. Again. I told her you were doing exercises nearby.”

“Nice to see you had so little faith in me, Pops.”

“Yeah, well, you have a history of colossal fuckups.” John mumbled.

“I know.” Jensen scratched at his chest over his T-shirt. “Hey, Is this the part where you give me the big father-son talk. Again?”

At that John laughed. “I will give you the talk as many times as needed, which in your case is a lot.” His eyes flicked up to Jensen’s and Jake sighed a little.

“I know I was a dick, I still am but I don’t wanna fuck this up again, Dad. She means the world to me and she’s given me a second chance. There won’t be a third, not least because she wouldn’t give me one but she’s not gonna need to.

John turned his eyes to Jake and levelled him with a stern look. “I hope so, son. Your mother and I love that girl as if she was our own kid.

“I love her too.” Jake shrugged. “And that’s all I can say.”

“That’s everything, Son. I’m happy for you.” John smiled, before he nodded towards the door. “Now go tell your mother.”

“She’s totally gonna slap me for not coming here first and going straight to the fake exercise, isn’t she?”

“Straight up murder you.” John nodded. “You know,” he rolled his eyes, “mothers.”

Jake grimaced. “Say nice things at my funeral.”

With his dad’s chuckles ringing in his ears, Jake headed into the kitchen and through to the small laundry room where his mom was busy shoving clothes in the dryer.

“Hey Ma.” He said and she gave a little start of surprise before she spun round, pointing at him.

“Jacob Calvin Jensen!” She blazed and Jake recoiled a little, wincing at her tone. “Why on earth you didn’t come see your mother before going to Exercise? And why aren’t you wearing your uniform?”

“What, why would I be wearing my uniform?” He frowned. ”That’s…whatever, that’s not important. Look, Mom, I didn’t come for an exercise.”

“You didn’t?” His mom frowned as she folded her arms. “Then where the hell have you been?”

“With Stel.” He replied simply.

“Stella?” His mom’s frown deepened. “So is all the team in the area?”

“No, just us.”

“Jake, what’s going on?” His mother demanded, her tone laced with frustration and he sighed.

“I err, well something happened when we were in Mexico and I had to make it right so, I did.”

“In Mexico? What did you do this time, Jake? And what is that you had to make it right? Oh my GOD!” She stuttered as she pressed her hand to her mouth. “Tell me you didn’t get a random Mexican girl pregnant, Jake!

“What? No!” Jake exclaimed, shaking his head. “Besides I was there like two weeks ago, how would I even know if I had?”

His mom immediately started rambling on about him being a dirty little shit and Jake let her continue for a while as she railed at him for whatever imaginary sins he had committed, but when she started on some long winded accusation about him sleeping his way around Cancun he groaned.

“Mom, you’re…you know what, the only person I slept with out there was Stella!”

At that his mom stopped dead, her eyebrows shooting up into her hairline. “What? I thought she was dating that guy she brought for New Years?”

“Look, it’s complicated but I made it right.” He shook his head, wanting to avoid that particular line of questioning. “I told you I came to fix something and I did. Stelly and I are back together.”

Instead of the smile he’d been expecting to spread on his mom’s face at that revelation, instead her brow furrowed once more into a frown and she shook her head, holding up her hand.

“Wait, wait. Back up!” She shook her head. “So you went to Mexico. Had sex. And now you’re back together?”

Jake groaned, “Mom!”

“Don’t ‘mom’ me!” She hissed. “You slept with her whilst she was with that other guy?”

“Yes, but they were breaking up, they have broken up!” He implored, dropping his head a little. “I thought you’d be pleased about it.”

“Of course I am, the pair of you belong together but that doesn’t mean I approve of what you did! You broke them up, on purpose?”

“Oh my God, are you even listening to me?” Jake looked at his mom, shaking his head and at that her face softened a little and she laid a hand on his arm.

“I’m sorry, yes, I am listening to you sweetheart, I’m just a little confused.”

Jake wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, it is…it’s complicated but, well, it doesn’t matter how and why, Mom, it just happened and, well, I love her. I love her so damn much and she took me back.” His voice dropped a little as he gave his mom a smile, popping one of his shoulders and to his relief he saw her finally smile back at him.

“You’re a lucky little shit you know that?”

Jake grinned. “Yeah, I do. Jules pretty much told me the same thing.”

“And did Jules tell you that if you fuck this up again she’ll kill you with her own bare hands?” His mom looked at him and he nodded.

“Yup. Dad also made his feelings perfectly clear a moment ago and I suspect you’re gonna join the club too.”

“You guessed right.” Janet raised her eyebrows. “And it won’t be a quick death either. It will be slow, and painful.”

“Gee, thanks.” Jake looked up at the ceiling before his mom scoffed a little.

“Well then for your sake you better heed said warnings then, hadn’t you?” She demanded and Jake dropped his eyes to hers before she smiled, and held her arms open. “Come here.”

******

The next day, Monday, was Jules’ birthday. Both families celebrated together as they always did, this time with a meal at an Italian joint and a chocolate cake Stella had made with Janet’s help. They had all chatted and laughed cheerfully over dinner, everyone trying to convince Jules she wasn’t hard to look at for her age and Gracie giggling every time Jake stole a kiss from Stella. Aubrey, however, spent most of the night shooting daggers at Jake before she collared him again when he emerged from the bathroom to issue one final threat. When he assured her said threat was received and understood she’d merely eyed him for a second before she shrugged and wrapped him up into a hug.

Tuesday was a bright sunny day and Jake suggested to Stella that they head out with Sirius for the afternoon and then caught a movie, just the two of them, later that evening before getting an early night ready for their morning flight back to Virginia. As such, the pair of them made their way to the park not far from Jake’s mom and dad’s, Sirius happily trotting besides them until they reached a less busy area and Jake let him off his leash for a run.

“You finished packing, baby?” Jensen asked, before throwing a stick for the large, black dog to fetch. He watched the dog sprint over the lawn of that side of the park before he turned to look at Stella who had remained silent.

“Yes, I guess I am.” She replied softly once she realized he was waiting for her answer.

“You guess?” Jensen wrapped his arm over Stella’s shoulder, pulling her to him before leaving a gentle kiss on her head. “What’s bothering you? You seem concerned about something.”

When she hesitated, Jake suddenly found himself worrying a little as he saw she was clearly unsure of what to say.

“Are you not ready to go back to base again?” He asked, trying to coax the answer out of her, trying to keep his face passive as he asked her out-loud what he was thinking. “Are you worried about Agent Shit-Name?”

“No, not really.” She answered, not a flinch at the mention of her former boyfriend, nor did she bother to pull Jake up on the use of his shitty nickname for the man. Instead, she took a deep breath. “Does this feel different to you? Like us?”

“Different?” Jensen frowned as he looked down to her. “In what way?”

“I really can’t explain it.” She shrugged, her eyes still fixed on a spot beyond the path ahead of them. “Like… there’s more riding on it maybe. If it doesn’t work out this time, then where do we go from there?”

“Is that what is worrying you?” Jake looked at her and she shrugged again and he sighed. “Hey, look, don’t think it won’t work babe, please. I promise you if it comes to me, it will.”

And it was then that Stella looked at him finally, his arm still curled over her shoulder as they walked round the lake with Sirius prancing and sniffing every tree, rock and creature a few meters ahead.

“I mean it, Stelly.” Jake pressed, desperate to get his point across that he wasn’t going to let her down again, to reassure her. “I love you baby and I wouldn’t do anything that risked what we’ve got.”

“I just don’t want this to go the way it did last time, and I believe you, I really do and I love you too.” Stella paused and swallowed before continuing, her eyes studying Jensen’s features. “It’s just, well the reason me and Evan didn’t work was because of you.”

Jensen then opened his mouth to protest but Stella cut him off with a movement of her hand. “I had no chance of being happy with anyone else not whilst you were there and this, well, if we end up that way again then…”

Jake needed no more words, he understood instantly what she was saying. That that was it. If they ever fell apart again, mind you, if he ever fucked up again, there would be nothing left for them. No friendship, no working partners, nothing. And, if he was being honest, that scared the shit out of him.

“This really is our last chance Jake. And that kinda freaks me out.” Stella continued, her voice bringing Jake back from his own thoughts. “But, we gotta try right?” She shrugged, making it look like a casual comment and trying to appear as collected as possible, but her eyes filled as she spoke that last sentence, telling Jake she was anything but.

Jake then stopped them both, and shook his head as he turned to face her. “Then don’t think about that happening.” At that he took a deep breath and cupped her face in his hands. “Look Stel, if anyone’s gotta be scared that would be me.” He felt his voice beginning to crack so he paused for couple of seconds as he softly rubbed Stella’s cheekbones with the pads of his thumbs. “I fucked up so many times before. I know that much and I also know I am a lucky bastard because you took me back.”

Stella shook her head, making him drop his arms to his sides. “We both did stuff that, well, with hindsight was dumb. But, it’s not even like we can take this slow, is it? Not with everything that’s happened, all the history we’ve got.”

“Why not?” Jake shrugged. “Let’s do exactly that. Let’s go right back to the beginning. We’ll date, do fun stuff, build it back from scratch.”

She chuckled, her features finally softening and her eyes sparkling at Jake’s so familiar giddiness. “Back to when?” She grinned. “To you helping me with my books the day we met?”

“Well... maybe not that far.” He grinned back at her as the memories of that day so many years ago warmed his chest. “But, let’s look at this as new. I kinda feel like it is anyway, I mean the other morning…” he trailed off and Stella watch him swallow hard, his throat bobbing slightly. “Fuck Stel, I can’t even begin to tell you how amazing that was. It just felt so special and that spark was there and…” he then paused to take her hands in his. “I don’t know, let’s work with that.”

“It was special, Jake.” Stella nodded, her eyes boring into his. “It was just us loving on each other, knowing that was where we belonged.”

“Exactly.” Jake breathed in as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and made them start moving again. “So let’s just run with it. We can’t keep dragging over all the shit that’s been before if we wanna make it work.”

“I do, I do wanna make it work.” Stella assured him, looking up at him. Her face split into a smile and she beamed at him, all traces of her trepidation seeping away. “Me and you, Jake. No matter what.”

He nodded as he grinned before leaning down to gently capture her lips on his, thanking his lucky stars that conversation had gone the way it had. “Now, I don’t know about you but I’m starving. Wanna head to the bakery and grab some food? I’d kill for a slice of red velvet cake.”

“You’re obsessed with that stuff.” She chuckled as she rolled her eyes.

Jensen shrugged and gave her his signature cheeky grin. “My two weaknesses in one place babe, you and cake.”

He watch her smirk from the corner of his eye as he called Sirius back and clipped on his leash. They headed out of the park and walked a few blocks down to one of their favourite bakeries in their town. The main lunchtime rush was over so thankfully it wasn’t busy and Stella didn’t have wait long outside with Sirius whilst Jensen headed in and grabbed them a sandwich each and then a large piece of his favourite cake and an eclair for her.

Once they’d got their food, they headed back to the park and found a little spot on one of the lawns and settled down to eat. They made small conversation as they ate their sandwiches, which they split as was usual when they were together the first time, Jensen commenting on how he had called Clay that same morning to tell him they were heading back the following morning and to fill him in with the latest update on the so-called “Operation Petunia”.

Despite their earlier decision to start new, they spent most of the meal reminiscing about the highlights of their relationship beginning with the day they met and ending with one of the most infamous moments they had lived together.

And no, contrary to what anyone who knew them might pinpoint, it wasn’t their first break up or any of the last month’s events.

“You have no idea how embarrassing it was to see photos of my boyfriend all over the fucking Army College campus wearing a whipped cream bikini with a banana up his ass.” Stella groaned at the memory, as she unwrapped their sweet treats.

“Oh, for fucks sake, Stel! How many times do I have to tell you it was a bet?” Jensen protested as he lay back on the grass as he thrust his arms dramatically in the air, making Stella roll her eyes.

“How would you feel about seeing photos of me like that?” She smirked as she leaned to poke her index finger on his chest as he cringed at the thought.

“Stel, just don’t, baby.”

“Yeah, exactly.” Stella grinned.

“You would have looked better than I did though.” Jensen quipped as he raised his head and chest, using his elbows now to rest the weight of his body upon, propping himself up.

“Well that goes without saying.”

“Okay, let’s not talk about my most embarrassing moments anymore.” He sat up, reaching for his cake. He took a large bite and groaned, swallowing, before he shoved more in his mouth. “By the way, this red velvet cake is delicious.”

“Is it?” Stella swallowed her own mouthful of éclair and nodded to the cake in Jake’s hand. “Let me try.”

Jensen broke a piece off for her and held it up as if to put it in her mouth but then before thinking twice he shoved it straight at her, mushing it round her nose.

There was a moment where Stella blinked, before she gave a shriek and grabbed a napking. “I fucking hate you.” She spluttered, wiping at her nose.

Jensen was cackling, but he soon stopped when she rammed what was left of her chocolate éclair into his face.

“You know, Estella,” he began to say as he wiped his face and licked the cream off his finger, smirking a little, “you really shouldn’t play with your food.”

“Oh, fuck off Jacob!” She snorted, using his full name as well.

“Oooh so angry, baby.” He mocked her as he dodged the napkin she threw at him.

“Shut up!”

“All right, all right.” He laughed and then looped his arm round her neck pulling her down with him as he leaned back on the grass again, his lips catching hers in a searing kiss.

“God, I love kissing you Stelly.” Jake sighed once they broke the kiss.

“Yeah?” She smiled. “Kinda like kissing you too.”

**** Chapter 9

#too loose and you'll lose it #jake jensen #jake jensen x ofc #jake jensen x original female character #the losers #the losers fan fiction #chris evans #chris evans characters

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iam93percentstardust · 3 years

Text

Fireflies

I wrote a little ironfalcon & sarahbucky fic! Thank you to @warmachinesocks for sensitivity reading it for me, I really appreciate the help!

This fic is also on ao3 but tumblr hates links so no links for you

The first thing Bucky sees when he walks through the door of Sarah’s house—Sarah’s house! He gets to stay with Sarah!—is Tony Stark washing the dishes. He stops in the doorway, not sure why he’s so surprised to see Stark there—he’d known that Stark had retired somewhere quiet after the battle with Thanos—but he definitely is. He hesitates, not sure if he can—or should—say something. Sure, he and Tony had talked things out after the battle, cleared the air between them, but he’d assumed that was based on them never having to see each other again.

“It’s rude to lurk in doorways,” Tony says, before he can think of anything to say.

“Uh,” Bucky says intelligently. Then, “What are you doing here?” He winces. His ma would absolutely have something to say about how rude he’s being if she could hear him.

Fortunately, Tony just chuckles and says, “I live here. What are you doing here, Freezer Pop?”

“You live here?” Bucky asks.

“Yes,” Sam says from behind him, startling him enough that he jumps. “Now get out of the way, Barnes. You’re blocking the door.”

Bucky steps inside, clutching his overnight bag in front of him like the shield he hadn’t thought he would need. Sarah and the boys are right behind Sam, and Bucky gives her a shy smile. She smiles back at him before ducking her head, and now that she’s turned away, Bucky looks back at Sam, who has made a beeline straight for Tony.

“Hey sweetheart,” Sam says in the softest voice Bucky has ever heard from him.

Tony leans over to kiss Sam’s cheek. “Hey, honey. How’s the boat?”

“Looking good,” Sarah says. “No thanks to you.” Bucky starts to get a little worried, but Sarah is grinning as she says it and Tony’s expression is one of mock outrage so he relaxes again.

“Excuse you,” Tony says in a faux-offended voice, “I was busy for five years.”

“Yeah, taking care of my boys and being an Avenger, so you’ve said many times. But what, you forgot about my poor boat?”

“Hey, I did offer to help pay for the repairs.”

Sarah’s face softens and she walks over to rub Tony’s metal shoulder, uncovered by the sleeveless shirt he’s wearing. “And that was sweet of you,” she says. “But I could told you I could—”

“—take care of it,” Tony finishes. “Yeah, you said.”

Sam rejoins Bucky by the door and tugs his bag from Bucky’s limp hand. “Come on,” he says, jerking his head toward the living room. “They’re gonna be at it for a while. I’ll show you where you can put your stuff.”

As they’re heading into the living room, Bucky quietly asks, “So how long have you and Stark—”

“Don’t let him hear you call him that,” Sam interrupts. “Just call him Tony, he hates Stark or Mr. Stark or anything else like that. And since 2005. We met working on the EXO-7 project. He was my technician. Got married right after he came back from Afghanistan.”

He remembers Steve telling him about Sam taking the plea deal after the Avengers split. Steve hadn’t been able to understand it, but he thinks about how they’d all understood Clint and Scott taking the same deal for their families and wonders if it was something like that.

“And how did you handle the—uh—”

Sam gives him a flat look. “With a lot of communication and a little bit of make-up sex,” he says. “When you’ve been together as long as we have, that’s something you learn.”

“What, that make-up sex helps?”

“That communication is important. And trust me, it can feel like pulling teeth, trying to get Tony to talk, but it’s worth it.” He plops down on the couch and motions for Bucky to sit down next to him, waiting until Bucky does before he continues, “Speaking of communication, a couple things about Sarah since you’re clearly going to ignore the Bro Code.”

“The Bro Code?”

“Yeah, don’t date sisters of friends, that kind of thing.”

“I don’t think that was a thing in the forties.”

“I’m pretty sure it was.”

“No, I think I’d remember that.”

“Steve didn’t have a sister, why would you remember that? Besides, your memory is as good as swiss cheese, and don’t think I missed you not arguing with me about that friend thing. Anyway, the Bro Code, since you’re ignoring it—”

From where they’re sitting, Bucky can see Sarah in the kitchen, putting away leftovers that someone had brought them while they’d been working. She looks real pretty with the evening sunlight lighting her from behind, making her glow like an angel. Bucky smiles a little, thinking about the way she’d laughed at his horrible jokes.

“Seriously man,” Sam interrupts. “Smitten-with-a-capital-s. Now look, Sarah’s had it rough these last few months. Blipped just like you and me, only she had to come back to a rundown boat and her boys all grown up. Tony did what he could around here, but he was grieving too and he had the duties of being an Avenger on top of taking care of AJ and Cass. He forgot about taking care of the boat and Sarah’s paying for it now. She’s been hurt a lot, so if your intention is something quick and then leaving her just like her husband, it’s not just me you’ll have to answer to. It’s Tony too, and the whole town on top of us. We look out for each other around this area.”

“Yeah, I got that today when the whole town showed up to help out.”

Sam grins and shakes his head, seemingly awed that he and Sarah would inspire enough loyalty for people to come help them. Bucky doesn’t get it. Both Wilson siblings are absolutely incredible. Hell, only a few weeks ago, he himself thought he’d be happy if he never had to deal with Sam ever again and now he’s staying at the man’s family home.

“My point is—” Sam begins.

“Samuel Thomas Wilson, I know you’re not giving that man a shovel talk,” Sarah interjects, coming into the living room, drying her hands on a dish towel. “You’re gonna scare him off, same as you did to all my boyfriends back in high school.”

Sam holds his hands up. “I’m just making sure he knows to treat you right.”

“Believe me, the poor man knows. Besides, I don’t need you to do that. I’m more than capable of making sure he treats me right all by myself.”

Bucky thinks about what that might mean and shivers pleasurably.

“Look at him, you broke the poor guy’s brain,” Tony complains. “AJ and Cass Wilson, can the two of you set the table?”

“Aww Uncle Tony, do we have to?” AJ complains.

“Hmm, how about you set the table or I’ll sell all your toys.”

“You wouldn’t do that,” AJ says, but gets up anyway and joins his brother in the kitchen.

“I might if you keep challenging me,” Tony shoots back, but there’s no heat to his voice and AJ is still grinning as he grabs plates out of the cupboard so Bucky turns back to Sam and Sarah, who have gotten quieter now that they’ve got an audience beyond just him.

“—want to see you taken care of the way you should be,” Sam is saying.

Sarah’s face softens. “Thanks. I don’t need it—”

“—but you should be anyway. After all you’ve done for our family, you deserve it.”

They both glance at Bucky, who smiles quickly to try to assure them that he’s a great option for Sarah. He’d heard some of the things the townspeople were saying about her while they were working on the boat today: she’s an impressive woman and all he wants to do right now is to prove that he’s worthy of her.

“Well,” Sam says eventually. “I guess there are worse people you could go for.”

“Gee, thanks, Sam,” Bucky says flatly.

“No problem, man.” He looks back at Sarah. “Fine, I’ll lay off of him. But the first time he hurts you—”

“—you’ll let me handle it like the grown-up I am?” Sarah finishes firmly, hands on her hips. She seems to decide that the conversation is clearly over because she heads back into the kitchen, swatting Tony away from the sauce on the stovetop with a wooden spoon.

Sam deflates. “Yeah, okay,” he calls after her. “I’ll let you handle it.”

“Hey, I get it,” Bucky offers quietly. “I had sisters too and they hated it when I got involved with their relationships.”

“She deserves the best. And I really hope that you can be the one to give it to her. I saw how she looked at you. I haven’t seen her look like that since high school.” There’s a pensive look in his eyes, his hands clasped together in front of him. “I didn’t realize how much I missed seeing that look.”

“I like her too,” Bucky tries to assure him. “I don’t want to hurt her.” He hesitates, then adds, “I don’t want to hurt anyone. Except maybe Walker.”

Sam laughs. “You and me both.”

“I’ll toast to that,” Tony says cheerfully, coming back into the living room. “Sarah says it’s dinner time.”

Dinner is a loud affair, full of the boys talking about what they’ve been up to with their friends, Sam and Sarah bickering about repairs that need to happen on the boat, Tony and Bucky comparing their prosthetics (Tony’s arm is Stark Tech and he’s curious about how it compares to Bucky’s Wakandan one), and Sam, Tony, and Bucky discussing what’s going to happen with Walker now that the shield’s been taken away from him.

“I don’t think this is over,” Tony says, and Bucky agrees with him, remembering how much more determined Steve had gotten every time an opportunity had been taken away from him, but Sam is less sure.

“He’s grieving. I don’t think he’s in any state to be trying to take the shield back,” Sam argues.

“Grieving men can be unpredictable. You said he didn’t catch Karli, that’s got to be weighing on him,” Tony replies. He eyes the shield in its leather case, leaning up against the wall. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt because he decides the shield is still his. Him with that serum, it concerns me. You don’t have that kind of advantage.”

“I don’t want that kind of advantage,” Sam says, surprising Bucky. He’d known Sam is leery of the serum, not nearly as bad as Zemo but still uncomfortable with it. Tony doesn’t seem surprised though, just nods understandably.

“I know,” he agrees. “But I still worry.”

Bucky interjects, “Hopefully the suit the Wakandans made will help even the playing field some.”

Tony blinks.

“You got a new suit?” Sarah asks.

“And I didn’t make it?” Tony asks.

“I haven’t seen it yet,” Sam says, “but yes. Bucky asked for a favor after Walker destroyed the old one.”

“Hmph,” Tony says grumpily, softening only when Sam leans over to kiss his cheek. “Well, I guess I can’t blame you. Shuri’s tech is incredible. The things that girl can do with vibranium… blows that shield out of the water.”

“Is she still refusing to let you take a look at T’Challa’s suit?”

“Yes.”

“They’re very protective of it,” Bucky says.

“And I don’t blame them,” Tony says quickly. “It would just be nice.” He glances at Sam pleadingly, who laughs.

“I’m not gonna let you take a look at it either.”

Tony grumbles wordlessly, but doesn’t complain any further, instead turning to Sarah to ask her about something with the boat. Bucky eagerly joins in, interested in hearing more about Sarah’s life. It’s so different from his, even before the war. He wants to learn everything he can, both about the boat and about her.

By the time dinner is over, he’s stuffed, something that rarely happens. The serum means he has a higher metabolism than the average person, which also means that he’s typically hungrier, and when he’d been with HYDRA, they hadn’t worried about making sure their Asset was well-fed. He offers to help the boys clear the dishes, hoping that will impress Sarah. She smiles at him, but heads out to the porch. The sun is setting over the bayou, and Bucky can just barely make her out through the glare from the sun.

He watches her a little wistfully until Tony comes up beside him and passes him two glasses of sweet tea. “What’s this for?” he asks.

Tony jerks his head toward the door. “She likes to watch the fireflies.”

Sam passes him with an armful of plates on his way to the dishwasher. “Better make sure you grab some bug spray. The mosquitoes are vicious at this time of day.”

“I heal fast,” he says confusedly.

“But it’ll show you’re thinking of her,” Sam says as Tony grabs a can from under the sink and slaps it into Bucky’s empty hand. “Go on, we’ve got this.”

“You’re sure?”

Sam and Tony share a wordless glance. Bucky can’t quite tell what they’re thinking. “Yeah,” Sam says after a moment. “Really, man, get out there.”

So Bucky gets.

Sarah glances up at him when he steps out onto the porch, smiles, and then moves aside on the swing for him to join her. “Let me guess, Tony told you to come out,” she says dryly.

“How’d you know?”

“He likes to think of himself as a matchmaker.”

Bucky hesitates in passing her one of the glasses. “Is that a problem?”

She takes the glass out of his hand, deliberately brushing her fingers against his. “Only if you think it is.”

In answer, Bucky hands her the bug spray too. Her smile broadens.

“Thanks,” she says. “You ever watched fireflies before?”

He shakes his head. “We didn’t have them in New York.”

“That’s a shame. They’re one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”

They’re silent for a moment, both sipping from their glasses. Then Sarah says, “You can put your arm around me, you know.”

Bucky glances at her quickly and then slowly puts his arm around her shoulders. She leans into him, warm and perfect and slotting just right beside him. It’s nice, he thinks, and he leans his head on top of hers. She makes a pleased sound and snuggles just a little bit closer. He lets out a long sigh, feeling the tension drain out of him as the first few fireflies twinkle in the gathering dusk.

#ironfalcon #sarahbucky #alle writes #if you like please consider reblogging

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danny-chase · 3 years

Text

Dick Grayson Week Day 4

Prompt: Bruce hits Dick and doesn’t get away with it

Summary/Notes:

A Spyral fixit where the family finds out about Nightwing 30. Perspectives are from Tim and Jason, but Steph, Cass, and Damian make an appearance. Quotes taken from Forever Evil 7 and 8, and Nightwing 30. Tw for swearing, angst and domestic/child abuse (because canon is terrible and I can’t leave it the way it is).

Edit: I have an AO3 account now yay! Read here

“I’ll be right back.” Tim chirped as he left to pull some files out of his room. He could feel his friends’ gazes lingering on him as he left. He had to suppress an eye roll. He was fine. Your pseudo-dad/adopted-father-before-you-emancipated-yourself loses his memory and suddenly everyone thinks there’s something wrong with you. Figures. Bruce was happier this way. And maybe, one day, he’d be able to get to know him again. Maybe not as sorta-father and son. But Bruce 2.0 liked volunteering with kids, running charity events. Maybe they could be business partners, or coworkers. It wasn’t like last time. But that didn’t mean Cassie, Bart and Kon weren’t worried. No matter how many times he tried to explain, they wouldn’t listen. It was better this way. Bruce was happier without them. Without him. It stung at first sure, but he was over it. He could handle it. Even if the knot in his stomach told him otherwise.

His fingers brushed the lines on the hallway as he strode through Titan’s Tower. The halls seemed so much smaller than they used to be. Logically, he knew they were the same size. But they weren’t the same walls as when he’d first visited. And those hadn’t even been the first wall either. “We’ve had to rebuild this place like at least a million times.” Dick had told him. The knot tightened. Don’t think about it, he reprimanded himself. He’d been having a nice afternoon. It was relaxing, staying with his friends. But he couldn’t walk through the halls without feeling like a trespasser. This was Dick’s team. This was his home away from home. Who was he kidding? He was no Dick Grayson. Dick’s friends used to look to him for guidance, for advice, for help with problems, personal and business related. Tim used to look to him for guidance, advice and help. Stop thinking about him, he tried again. Forget the Crime Syndicate. Forget the funeral. Don’t stress, repress. He paused for a moment, stared aimlessly out the window, took a few deep breaths, cleared his mind and continued on his way.

Climbing the stairs, he decided it was better to use his mental faculties to go through the case he was working on. Jason had called two days ago asking about some of his old informants in Gotham, Penguin was apparently moving back onto the scene and reorganizing the structure of some of the newer gangs. Cleaning house. Informants were switching names, following their own protocols. Bruce had written some contingency in a classified file somewhere. The issue was where. The damn batcomputer had like a billion files on it. And Barbara knew the system, but was busy coordinating for the JLA and had put them on “Do not Disturb” mode for the foreseeable future. He could write a program to search for it. Stupid Bruce and his stupid files that he’d kept secret from them. “It was on a need to know basis.” He could almost here the defensiveness in Bruce’s voice if he tried hard enough. He nearly face planted as he miscalculated the number of stairs. Maybe they should just go back to their old Young Justice base. Or wait till the building inevitably explodes again and just make it better. That would be fun. Designing a Teen Titans base with slides and escalators. Bart would be thrilled. Bart could probably build it in 5 minutes. Dick wouldn’t approve, his brain felt the need to remind him. Tim nearly huffed. Well Dick is de-.

He abruptly lost his train of thought. There was noise coming from his room. Someone was sniffing, was someone crying in his room? Who was even in his room? Everyone was downstairs. Cissie and Steph were visiting in the lounge, Greta left a few days ago, the new kids were in the gym getting a feel for the equipment. The hell? His heart pounded a bit louder as he silently slunk towards his rooms. If Dick decided to haunt him from beyond the grave this was not cool. The lights flickered. Tim nearly screamed. He could feel cold sweat gathering in his palms, his heart racing, thoughts pounding in his skull. It’s just one of Bart’s pranks, no one can get in without access. He slid next to his door and pulled up the camera feed on his glove’s embedded computer. They weren’t in lockdown, but it couldn’t hurt to check. Few clicks here, few taps there and…Damian? Tim burst through the door, half relieved and fully confused.

“What are you doing here?” Tim half yelled, Damian startling on the bed as he burst into his room. Tim flicked the lights on as the gremlin crossed his arms in response. Tim shut the soundproof door, no need to bother Kon with this.

“I was given access to the tower as well.” He stated monotonously. Tim frowned; something was off. Damian didn’t just show up in his room. Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen the kid in weeks. Not since Bruce went all amnesiac on them. Where was he even staying. Damian shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. There were dark circles under his eyes, he was paler than usual, but flushed, his eyes bright. Had he been crying in here? “Quit gawking at me, Drake.” He spat, jolting Tim back into reality.

He almost opened his mouth to throw some insult back. Almost. He saw the kid’s lip tremble just so slightly, and he bit his tongue. The kid’s hands were shaking. “What’s up?” He replied cautiously. Keeping the demon brat in line wasn’t in his job description. But the kid had had a rough couple months. Dying, coming back to Dick being dead, Bruce losing his memory. He could help with whatever this was and-

“Grayson is alive.”

-send the kid back to Alfred, he knew the kid better than he did. He had his pets at the manor to keep him company, maybe he’d see if Jon would be willing to have a sleepover or something. Spring break was coming up soon, maybe he could take a trip out to Kansas-

“Drake!” Damian was waving a hand in front of his face. Tim blinked a few times. He hadn’t said…had he? That wasn’t right Dick was-

“Richard is alive, I can prove it.” There was desperation in the kid’s voice, water in his eyes. The trash can was filled with tissues, it had been empty when he left. His shirt was on inside out. Tim inhaled sharply. Fuck. Tim had been there. He’d done that. Denied reality. Gone on a wild fairy tale goose chase. Chased insane dreams. Sure, it had worked. But this was different. They had a body. We had a body then, his mind helpfully supplied. There was no real evidence. It had worked hadn’t it? Denying Bruce’s death out of reality? But Dick couldn’t be alive. Bruce had seen him die. Clark saw Bruce die, his brain again helpfully supplied. Tim studied Damian’s face carefully. He looked two steps away from a mental breakdown. Was that how I looked? He wasn’t exactly looking in any mirrors at the time. Dick had try to talk him back down, that was the wrong move. He’d doubled down. But Damian wasn’t him and Tim had no idea what to do. Damian stared at him, studying his face carefully. Tim could feel his palms sweating again, when had he started clenching his fists? His brain was ticking through options, tell Damian he believed him – high chance of heartbreak, low chance of kid running off and doing something stupid on his own. Try and talk him down – still some heartbreak, but can mitigate, medium to high chance of him running off. Call Alfred – should he really do that though? The kid came to him. Alfred’s busy dealing with amnesiac Bruce. Call someone else? Why did the kid come to him in the first place? Damian hated him, he wouldn’t come to him unless he was really sure, or really desperate. Does he think I can replicate what happened with Bruce? Time seemed to move like molasses. Tim swallowed. Now or never.

“I believe you.” He replied. Damian’s eyebrows furrowed, but his shoulders fell ever so slightly, and he rocked back on his heels, uncrossing his arms and leaning into a less defensive stance. Mixed results. He prayed he sounded convincing enough. If he was going this route, he had to go all the way. It didn’t matter that he’d seen the body. It didn’t matter that Bruce saw. He needed to be on Damian’s side with this one. Just like he’d needed somebody on his side back then. Even if it was a crazy side. Even if it was a leave everyone behind and run around on a whim side. Even if it doesn’t work out, at least the kid would have someone to catch him at the end. Why did it have to be the brat though?

“You do not. But you will.” Damian said solemnly, a bit of an edge to his voice. He pulled a laptop out of a bag on the floor and hopped up on the foot of Tim’s bed. Tim quietly settled next to him, careful to not touch him. He was careful. The kid didn’t appear to be looking for a fight, but you never know. Tim glanced at the laptop screen.

“DAMIAN NO WHAT THE-” He screamed. Damian nearly leapt of the bed. His face turned red.

“-tt- Grow up Drake, this is for research purposes only, that is not-” He started mumbling.

“You’re on DICK GRAYSON THIRST POST WEBSITES for RESEARCH!” Tim half screamed, attempting to lower his voice. Damian flushed harder.

“SHUT UP DRAKE!” He countered. Tim took deep breaths. Dear god, he needed to bleach his eyes after this. He did not need to know these threads existed. Fucking reddit. Humanity has gone too far. There were 20k followers. He peeked over again, the latest posts were from this morning. His mouth was dry. These people were lusting over his dead brother. It was sick, it was fucking disgusting it was-

“Wait what’s that picture?” Tim asked.

“-tt- If you would allow me to explain instead of losing your head, I can show you.” Damian grumbled. He clicked on the picture to enlarge it. “I’ve run the calculations, biometrically, the body shape is a 99.97% match.” Tim let out a low whistle. It wasn’t much to go on. You couldn’t see the figure’s face, he was turned away from the camera. Whoever took it was definitely aiming for a certain portion of the man’s body.

“Have you talked to the poster?” Tim inquired. Damian nodded.

“This subreddit is dedicated to…” Damian made a revolted looking face, “capturing casual images of Grayson in unsavory positions.” He nearly squirmed as he finished the sentence. “I was attempting to research the details of Grayson’s perceived passing and came across this website.” That was a different kind of trauma in Tim’s opinion. “The image caught my eye. He has fans in Ireland, that is where it was taken. These fans are apparently experts at picking him out.” Damian scrolled through some earlier posts to prove his point. “It is odd.” He added pointedly. Tim’s mind was racing. It was hardly evidence. It could have been anyone. But he was right. The perverts were good. They even had a few of Dick in disguise doing undercover work, none of his face of course. But Dick couldn’t be in Ireland. Tim went to the funeral. Bruce went to the funeral. Bruce saw Dick die. Bruce wouldn’t lie about something like that. He never told you about the Joker. His mind supplied. No. Bruce wouldn’t. Bruce couldn’t. He wouldn’t put them through that grief. Not after Damian. Not after all the lies. He promised he wouldn’t lie to them like that. The picture couldn’t be real. But Damian kept scrolling. There were more. In multiple countries. It couldn’t be possible. There was no way. People joked his brother’s butt was iconic but this was ridiculous.

“Drake?” Damian sounded so cautious. Tim was confused. The pictures all looked so real. So accurate. Could they be photoshopped? That could explain it.

“Did you get any of the original files?” He asked much too hastily to appear calm. A smile flicked on Damian’s face for a millisecond.

“You believe me.” Damian stated, half disbelievingly. Tim bit his lip. He didn’t want to. He couldn’t. If he did, then he didn’t believe Bruce. Damian cleared his throat. “I have already examined a few of the original photographs. Their phones were laughably easy to hack.” He looked smug for a mentally unhinged eleven-year-old. “They do not appear to be tampered with.” Tim could feel his heart thudding in his chest. Dick couldn’t be alive. It wasn’t possible. He saw the body. Bruce was in the cave for a week going over it. Not allowing anyone in. No… Fuck…

“What did you do?” He muttered under his breath. Damian looked at him inquisitively, a determination burning in his eyes. Tim hadn’t seen any of the proof himself. And he believed Bruce unquestioningly. That was the opposite of what the man had taught him. But there was still something off. He looked searchingly at Damian. “Dick wouldn’t do that to us.” He couldn’t. Dick would never do something like that. He would tell them. He wasn’t like Bruce, he was reliable. Dick didn’t keep secrets like that. He wouldn’t fake his own death and leave them to fend for themselves. Not after Damian died. After everything they’d lost, after everything he’d lost. Dick wouldn’t do that to him. Damian’s eyes flickered toward the ground, and he frowned.

“Maybe he can’t tell us.” Is all he had to offer. It seemed like a sore spot. Tim didn’t push it. It was probably driving the kid insane. Dick, galivanting across the world, not checking in, not coming back to tell them he was okay? The odds were astronomically low. Dick was a constant. He was their brother. He was a Robin. Robins don’t do that to each other. Steph did, his brain helpfully supplied. But that wasn’t Steph’s fault. Tim dug his nails into his palms. He needed to know. He needed proof. He needed to see the footage, go over the evidence. He didn’t doubt Dick, but his mind was itching. He wouldn’t be able to sleep unless he knew for sure. Hell, Damian probably couldn’t either.

“Look, here’s the plan.” Tim said, his mind racing. Damian stared at him intently. Wow the kid really was desperate if he was willing to listen to him. “I’ll tell Kon I’m taking you home, that you need some help on a case, then will slip out. Maybe, maybe someone close to the family is compromised.” He said, a bit unsure. That could explain the lie. If there was one. Please let there be one. Damian nodded, stuffing his laptop back into his backpack. Tim crossed the room and grabbed the door handle.

A barely audible “Thanks.” reached his ears as he flipped off the lights.

Jason groaned as he checked his messages. He really didn’t want to go through the batcomputer files. It would be faster if Tim did it, plus he had a lower chance of accidentally messing something up. Not that the file system wasn’t already a disaster. Touch the wrong button and you’re locked in the cave till Alfred realizes something’s wrong.

Tim had stopped responding to his messages two days ago, and well, he couldn’t wait any longer. And so, he found himself zipping through the tunnel systems that led into the cave. It was better to avoid the manner if possible. Happy Bruce wasn’t high on the list of people he wanted to see. That dude was fucking weird. It made him feel weird. It did feel good to cross amnesia off his yearly family bingo though. Now he just needed someone to trip during an interview and he’d break Cass’s winning streak. At the rate they were checking things off, maybe he should start a second batch and make it biannual. That or change the prompts. They were getting predictable.

He rolled to a stop inside the cave, and nearly rolled his eyes seeing the mess of skid marks on the floor. Seriously, tires are expensive, why his siblings couldn’t park like normal human beings was beyond him.

Someone was clacking away on the upper platform. Oh, thank God Tim was probably here, figuring it out before he could mess everything up. Cass poked her head over the railing, Jason cocked an eyebrow at her as he removed his helmet. She grinned and jumped over it, catching the fireman’s pole and sliding down. Someone was going to break an ankle doing that, could he add that to the bingo cards? Stupid non-work related injury was already on there, maybe upgrading it to stupid broken bone would suffice. Dick broke his nose outside Denny’s at 3am last year during a post mission party. Hands down one of the best nights of Jason’s life. Too bad his family members decided to die at least once a year.

“I’m about to win bingo.” Cass whispered as she brushed past his shoulder. That jolted Jason out of his bittersweet thoughts.

“Bullshit.” He growled back, bingo was his this year. She smugly wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“Sorry brother.” She said sweetly, leaning her head into his shoulder. She let out a long sigh. And then Jason finally remembered that it most the squares weren’t exactly fun.

“Wait, the fuck’s going on?” Fuck, he really didn’t want to deal with this right now. Nobody could have died Dick checked that off, amnesia was gone, Gotham destroyed was gone, natural disaster was checked, Joker breaks out and does dramatic shit was gone too. But that wasn’t a good sigh, that was a ‘I’m so tired of this family sigh’, which could narrow it down a bit. Cass squeezed his shoulder.

“Family secrets.” She admitted, giving him a melancholy look. Jason groaned. This family was the fucking worst. Bruce wasn’t even really part of it right now, who the hell was keeping secrets? Damian. Had to be Damian. Little monster was just like his dad. Fuck. Dick taught the kid better than that. What kind of mess was he in?

Cass took him by the wrist and started dragging him towards the stairs. He resisted briefly as they got to the base. He needed to know. “Who’s is it?” He asked, planting his feet on the ground.

Cass bit her lip, looking extremely uncomfortable. Jason pulled back his arms and crossed them, keeping his expression as neutral as he could, but she could probably read his mood anyways.

“HA. HAHAHA HA. FUCK YOU BRUCE! TAKE THAT SHIT-COMPUTER!”

Jason nearly jumped out of his skin at Tim’s screeching from upstairs, Cass was running up the stairs, not waiting to see if he was coming. Jason sighed. It was going to be on of those days. He took a deep breath and headed up behind her.

Tim was doing a victory dance in front of the computer. Damian was crawling out from under the computer, a shit eating grin on his face. They both looked (and smelled) a mess. Definitely neither had showered in a few days, probably hadn’t slept either.

“Todd, you are just in time to witness our victory over father.” Damian greeted, formal as ever. The brat didn’t even through an insult in there. Must be in a good mood. Well that at least explained who was keeping secrets. Stupid Bruce, keeping secrets even while an amnesiac. Screw him.

“Shall we?” Tim asked, offering a hand to Damian, which shockingly the kid took. The fuck did he miss?!?

“Uh, what the fuck?” He managed to get out. There was cowl footage pulled up on the screen. Cass was pulling chairs over from the table. He tiredly took the seat she offered him.

“Waaaaiiiiiit I have popcorn!” Steph called, pounding down the stairs.

“Steph no!” Tim moaned. “This isn’t a joke!”

“What’s family drama without popcorn?” Steph sung back. Damian huffed. Cass snickered. Jason had to smirk to himself. Dark humor was the best coping mechanism in this family. “Besides you haven’t told us what this is!” She accused. Well at least Jason wasn’t the only one who didn’t know. Tim shifted guilty at the computer, his eyes darting from Damian and then back to the group. Damian responded by huffing and crossing his arms.

“Drake did not ‘want to get your hopes up’.” He began, mimicking Tim’s voice perfectly, “-tt-His concern is unfounded, my research has been impeccable, Gr-” Tim shoved a hand over Damian’s mouth. Damian looked downright murderous.

“Look we want to watch the footage beforehand it might be-” Tim squawked as Cass lunged off the table, hopped over his shoulders and hit play on the batcomputer. “Cass wait!” He got out as the video began to play. Steph grabbed Tim from behind and dragged him into a seat.

The screen showed footage from a first-person perspective, they were walking through a doorway into a large room.

“I’m tired of secrets.” Muttered Cass as she slipped in a chair next to Steph. Damian staid standing, glaring intensely at the screen, looking strangely anguished.

“Hey, kid you can…” The invitation died in his throat. The camera moved forward into the room, revealing a beaten Dick Grayson in the center, hooked to countless machines, suspended in a metal cocoon, only his face and chest peeking out.

“Oh my God.” Came a familiar voice from the screen. A growl reverberated in the cave.

“Well Batman…” Luthor materialized on the right, “…You’ve found Nightwing.” He said, stalking forward.

Something clattered on the floor. The camera was rushing forward. Voices from the cave mixed with voices on the screen.

“Why would you want to watch this!?” shrieked Steph.

“Dick? Everything’s going to be all right. I’m here.” Bruce’s gruff voice sounded oddly strained.

“Shut up Brown!” Came Damian in a high-pitched voice.

“He never showed us the evidence.” Tim’s voice squeaked. “We have to watch till the end?”

“I’m sorry I shut you out. All of you. I didn’t want you getting hurt…I’m going to get you out of this.” Came Bruce’s shaking voice. Jason could feel a lump growing in his throat. He didn’t want to see this.

“Fast-forward?” Cass suggested, her voice equally shaken. Jason could barely see the others in the cave, his eyes were glued to the screen.

“No…You need to…leave.” Came Dick’s horse whisper of a voice. “You need to go…”

Damian made an inhuman noise, which allowed Jason to tear his eyes off the screen.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Muttered Tim. “We can’t fast-forward we need to know what happened.” He forced a sense of determination into his voice. “This is why I didn’t-”

THOOM. The sound rumbled through the cave. Jason jumped out of his seat. The camera whipped around revealing the exit sealed off, with Luthor, Selina, and Bizzarro trapped inside.

“-you guys can still leave.” Tim said shakily.

BA-DEEP. Blared through the speakers. BA-DEEP.

“What is that?” Came Selina’s voice, her usual smooth and silky persona dropped. BA-DEEP.

“It’s a countdown. This isn’t just a fancy pair of handcuffs, Catwoman. It’s a bomb.” Came Lex’s gruff voice. The camera turned again showing a timer counting down from 5 minutes. Jason’s stomach painfully twisted at the reminder of another countdown in another sealed building.

“We’re staying.” He managed to get out. He might have heard noises of affirmation.

WHAM. “The door. The walls. Why can’t we break through them?” Came Luthor’s voice.

“This cell was designed to hold Doomsday, Luthor.” Came Bruce’s voice again. The camera showed him messing with the panel. BA-DEEP.

“Is the countdown monitoring his heart?” Selina asked from seemingly far away.

“Yes.” Boomed Bruce’s voice. BA-DEEP.

“Why?” Replied Selina.

“The detonator is hooked into it.” Bruce responded. Jason’s heart sunk. “He died in a death trap. There was no way out.” Bruce had told him before the funeral. BA-DEEP.

“Batman…The bomb…” Dick whispered. BA-DEEP. Jason spared another glance at Damian. There were tears beginning to form in his eyes, but he stared, glued to the screen all the same. “…It only disams…If my heart stops.” Jason could feel his chest tightening painfully. “I die…or we all die.” BA-DEEP.

“Maybe Bruce had a reason for not showing this to us.” Steph said shakily. Jason glanced over. She looked green. Her sleave and eyes were both wet. The sounds of the heart monitor echoed in the cave.

BA-DEEP. “Please…Listen to me…” Dick’s horse voice started again. Tim was muttering frantically to himself. “You still have time to get yourself out of here.” The camera was so close. Jason could see every cut on his brother’s face, could see the sweat on his brow, the blood trickling down from his nose.

BA-DEEP. “I am not leaving you, Dick. I am not abandoning you.” Bruce sounded much more confident that Jason felt. Too bad Bruce didn’t sound confident.

“You aren’t Bruce. And you never have.” Dick replied. Jason’s vision was blurring. All he wanted was some stupid computer files. He didn’t come to the cave to watch this.

BA-DEEP. “The only way we’re getting out of here is together…No…The wires…” Jason dug his fingernails into his palms. “…Every time I disconnect a relay, it fixes itself.” Jason bit his lip.

BA-DEEP. At some point those in the caves had gone silent. “Then there’s only one way to disarm this bomb, Batman.” Came Luthor’s voice. The video jolted violently and Bruce’s cry reverberated through the cave. Chaos erupted on the screen. A cacophony associated with their customary brand of violence echoed through the speakers, obscuring some of the voices.

BA-DEEP. “I’m saving our lives.” Jason made out. The screen was black. Jason glanced around the room. Everyone was tense. Damian was crying. Tim looked horrified. Cass was perfectly still, her expression blank. Steph looked one step away from throwing up in the empty popcorn bowl that lie on the ground at her feet.

BA-DEEP. The camera was moving again. “LUTHOR.” Boomed Bruce’s voice again. Jason caught a glimpse of the man pressing a hand over Dick’s face. “LUTHOR, YOU HURT HIM AND I WILL KILL YOU.” Cass let out the faintest gasp. Bruce wasn’t lying. How the hell was Luthor still alive? The heart monitor was stuttering. BA-DEEEEEP

“Nonononononononononono.” Came Tim’s voice. “It wasn’t supposed to-”

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

“DICK.” Screamed Bruce. The camera rushed forward.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

“NO!” Yelled Bruce and Tim at the same time. Damian had sunk to the floor.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

A fist kept pounding Luthor in the face relentlessly. “Batman, wait-” Luthor pleaded. This was not how Jason had wanted Bruce to break his code.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

“YOU MURDERER!” Screeched Bruce, righteous fury echoing in his voice. The heart monitor cut off. A hand reached down to cut off Luthor’s windpipe.

“I have this…” Came Luthor’s strangled voice. He looked terrified. “Under control…Grayson…” The hand squeezed harder. “-kk-!” The man chocked. Bruce lessened up slightly. “It’s not too late, you idiot.” Spat Luthor. Bruce was apparently passed the point of listening.

“YOU MURDERED NIGHTWING.” He growled, tightening his grip once more. Luthor was going bug eyed. The man was going to actually die if Bruce pushed it much harded.

“Batman-” Came Selina’s voice.

“Luthor killed Dick, Selina.” Bruce said, his voice strangled.

“You said this lightning rod was from the future! Maybe we can use it to save him or something? I don’t know-!” She cried desperately.

A flash of light and crackle of electricity resounded through the cave. The screen went black for a moment.

Jason could hear metal clinking on the floor.

“Why are we still watching this?” Jason asked hoarsely. Tim looked at him palely.

“I need to know what happened next.” He whispered.

“If I hadn’t stopped Grayson’s heart, this ‘Murder Machine’ would have detonated and we all would have died. I had to make a choice, Batman. I made him flatline…after I forced him to swallow a cardioplegia pill.” The camera slowly tilted back up to focus on Luthor.

“A what?” Asked Steph and Selina at the same time.

“A drug that paralyzes the cardiac muscles surrounding the heart.” Replied Tim and Bruce in sync.

“Then…” Trailed off Damian. The boy looked up hopefully at the screen.

“And if this boy’s heart doesn’t get a shot of adrenaline right this very second he’s going to stay dead.” Luthor finished.

*kaff*

That small cough was the best sound Jason had heard in his entire life.

“YES!” Shouted Tim.

Damian swallowed. “As I expected.” He said shakily. No one called him out on it.

“Dick?” Came Bruce’s voice from the screen.

“Batman?” Dick’s wobbly voice whispered.

Cass tackled Steph into a bear hug, and Steph laughed widely as they clattered to the floor. Jason just sighed deeply and let his head drop into his hands in relief.

“Drake-” gasped Damian, “-get off.”

“You were right! Damian was right! Dick’s alive. HAHA Dick’s ALIVE!” Jason glanced up to see Tim squeezing the crap out of Damian who was going slightly blue in the face. There were words coming from the speakers still but they fell to the wayside in the celebration. Jason walked over and turned the volume down.

“I’m going to kill them.” Jason muttered under his breath. But he’d save that for later, for now, he just paced back to his chair and sunk into it. The cave was quiet for a few minutes, Dick and Bruce continued on whatever the fuck adventure they were on was. The rest of the video was a blur. By the end, Jason’s racing heart had settled, and the kids had stopped clinging to each other.

“But wait.” Said Steph as the video ended. “If Dick’s alive, where is he? How did you even know to look?”

Jason turned to see Tim babbling. “Well I have a few theories, we recovered more footage as well, you know? Like Damian found pictures of him all across the world so like, we don’t know for certain where he is, but like I don’t know for sure what happened, but maybe someone was compromised so like, he had to stay hidden or like…” Tim continued babbling as the next video began to play. It was once again footage from the cowl. “Bruce shut off all the camera’s in the cave for the next week, I thought he was sulking but like we were able to find some cowl footage that he deleted, and like hopefully from that we can figure out what happened and how to track him down-”

“Turn up the volume.” Demanded Cass from her seat. She was looking at the screen with an odd expression. Damian moved without hesitation. Jason’s eyes followed up to the screen. Dick was glaring into the camera his fists raised and wrapped.

“So, one more time Dick. But now there’s only one rule…You have to win.” Came Bruce’s gruff voice. The pair was in the cave. Dick lunged towards the camera. “You let the crime syndicate capture you. Let them torture you. You let them give your secrets to the world.” Bruce accused.

“Bruce man, what the fuck!” Steph yelled, masking Dick’s response.

Bruce continued “You let them turn you into a bomb. You let them kill you. Before Luthor rescued you, you let everyone WATCH YOU DIE.” He boomed.

“YOU GOTTA BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!” Jason bellowed, knocking over his chair as he stood. He walked away from the screen. Only fucking Bruce. Only fucking Bruce would blame someone for their death. Jason knew that all too well. He walked away from the screen, giving himself distance to clear his head.”

“I trained you to LIVE, and I watched you DIE!” CRACK. Jason flipped around to see Bruce elbow Dick in the face, drawing blood. Bruce’s words cut like a knife. It wasn’t Jason’s fault he died. It wasn’t Dick’s fault either. Neither Steph’s or Damian’s. Damian had unconsciously taken cover behind Tim, who was standing between Damian and the screen with an arm hovering over the kid’s shoulder.

“WHAT THE FUCK BRUCE!” Screamed Steph at the screen, she was also on her feet at this point. Only Cass’s hand prevented her from trying to fight the digital apparition. “WE DON’T JUST GO AROUND DYING WILLY NILLY, IT’S NOT MY-, IT’S NOT HIS FAULT!” Her voice shrilly echoed around the cave, drowning out the audio temporarily.

Dick was on his knees, wiping his bloody nose, looking up confused. WHACK. A powerful kick sent him flying off the platform, crashing into a costume display case. “I have a mission for you, Dick. I need you to do something that will hurt your friends. Your family.” Bruce commanded. He could hear Damian inhale sharply. Tim stopped hovering and pulled Damian tightly into his chest, rushing forward to pause the video, with the boy in tow. His hand was over the button before Cass sprung forward and grabbed his wrist. Jason had never seen Cass look this angry without the mask.

“I deserve to know.” She said with conviction, anger deep in her voice. “I deserve to know what kind of father he is.” She spat. Jason wasn’t going to touch that with a ten foot pole.

“But he shouldn’t, I mean I don’t know if, I mean I don’t know what, I mean-” Tim sputtered glancing from the screen to Damian and back again.

“I want to know the truth.” Came Damian’s tiny reply. He looked so young, he pushed away from Tim’s chest, but leaned into his side.

Cass pulled Tim’s hand back. “I fought him once.” She admitted. “I need to know.” She repeated.

Tim looked at her pleadingly. Bruce and Dick raged at each other on screen. Blood flowed from the cuts on Dick’s back. “I…I…” Tim stammered.

“We all deserve to know.” Steph piped up, leaning against the side of the computer.

“Fight like you’re alive!” Bruce yelled on the screen. CRACK. An oversized die broke on impact with the back of Dick’s head. Dick retaliated, throwing a question mark back.

The words were blurring in Jason’s head, his rage clouding his thoughts, and overtaking his senses. The rest of the world was disappearing, leaving only the screen behind. His vision tunneled. He crossed his arms as tightly as he could, willing himself to stay in place. Stay calm. His hearing cut out. But he could still read his name on his brother’s lips just before Bruce delivered an uppercut powerful enough to knock Dick off the dinosaur.

The next thing Jason knew Cass was sitting on him. People were yelling at him.

“-on’t break the screen-”

“-up I need to see-”

“-op fighting-”

Cass smiled apologetically before tapping a pressure point. Jason allowed himself to fade into the darkness.

He came to in a medical bay of the cave, with an intense desire to get out. This place was cursed. He needed out, he needed to think, he needed to process, but he needed to get out. He pushed himself up and swung his legs off the bed.

“Wait.” Came a voice from behind him. He spun off the bed to see Tim, awkwardly standing on the other side of the cot. Jason edged towards the door. “We know where he is.” Tim offered. Jason glanced at Tim, and back to the door.

“Can we talk somewhere else?” He asked quietly. He didn’t want to be in the cave for this. Tim awkwardly bobbed side to side.

“Uh about that. We’re moving out.” He said quickly. Jason opened the door.

“OMGIT’SREDHOODHIMR.REDHOODSIRPLEASEDON’TKILLTIM-”

Jason slammed the door in the kid’s face. He stared at Tim, who was banging his head into the wall with a hand covering his eyes.

“Do I even want to know?” Jason asked. Tim groaned.

“I called my team to help us move out, we’re going to use the bunker for Gotham operations from now on.” Tim explained. A loud crash came from outside. The door whipped open.

“Heythegiantpennyisn’t-” The kid started. Jason growled at him. “-nevermindbyebye.” The speedster zipped away and slammed the door.

“You decided this without me?” Jason asked, raising an eyebrow at Tim. Tim looked back at him sheepishly.

“You’re already out voted. Besides you really want to stay here?” He replied evenly. Jason shrugged, that was fair. He’d already tried to leave. “I know you said you don’t want to talk here, but I don’t know when I’ll get you alone again.” Jason sighed. That’s valid, he was planning on avoiding the family for a bit. “Please don’t pull a disappearing act.” Jason looked up at him.

“Why not?” He challenged.

“We don’t need Bruce to be a family.” Tim replied. It sounded rehearsed. That was also fair. “And we need each other too. We found some communications from Dick, Bruce left him stranded when he got amnesia, he’s coming back in a few days.” Jason couldn’t look Tim in the eye anymore.

“I don’t know what to do.” He said honestly, looking at Tim’s shoes. What do you say after something like this? After watching something like that. After knowing the truth.

“Neither do we, but we’ll figure it out together.” Tim offered. He looked sad, tired, his face fell before he spoke again. “He…he misses us.” He spoke softly. “On the recordings. I, I don’t think Bruce even told him about Damian.” Jason swore softly under his breath. Bruce was one fucking piece of work.

“Is there anything else I should know?” Jason said after a moment, catching Tim’s eye once more.

Tim shook his head. “The rest of the tape was mostly the same.” He said quietly. “He won.” He added as an afterthought. Jason snorted. Tim gave a warry smile. None of them ever won. Not in the ways they wanted to. Only when the prizes were more pain, more guilt, more heartbreak.

Jason leaned back against the wall. How was this the way things ended up? Was Bruce always this cruel? The man was unrecognizable to Jason. It was inexcusable. After Willis? After Cain? After Brown? Hell, even Tim’s father was emotionally abusive before he died. Why couldn’t any of them have a normal father? A stable parental relationship. It wasn’t fair. And it hurt more because he didn’t even know where it started. Bruce had been a good father to him. Had that been a lie? He’d never looked to closely at why Dick had left home, could it be that…that…? Had Jason missed something like this? Would he ever even know what he’d missed? They didn’t have as many cameras back then.

Tim had crossed the room and put a hand on his shoulder. “He’ll be okay.” He said confidently. “As long as we have each other, we’ll all be okay.” Tim squeezed his shoulder gently before disappearing through the door into the chaos that used to be his childhood fantasy. When had it all gone so wrong, he had to ask himself. He hated that he knew the answer. His death was this fucking family’s original sin. But you know what, that wasn’t his fault. Even if it felt like it. Even if Bruce still blamed him. Dick didn’t look at him like a ghost, he didn’t look at him like a kid in over his head, like a regret, like a mistake. It was time for Bruce to grow the hell up and move on. Bad experiences don’t justify beating your kids. Maybe from here, they could move on. Maybe from here on, they could heal. Maybe they could start over. Maybe they could make their own new family. Bruce had abused them, lied to them, manipulated them enough. It was time to rise from the ashes like a phoenix and fly again. He wouldn’t know unless he tried. He didn’t have to give up on Gotham. But maybe it was time to give up on Bruce.

Jason swung open the door, descending into a future unknown, diverging from the circle of heartache and abuse. He had broken the cycle once before, on his own, with a new family made of friends, one of his choosing. And now he chose to break it once more, and this time he resolved not to leave his siblings behind.

#dickgraysonweek2021 #dickgraysonweek #dick grasyon #nightwing #batfamily #my writing #tw domestic abuse #tw child abuse #tw swearing

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moonbeam-mothling · 3 years

Text

Fishtank Ch 2

Mina was very comfortable and snug. Not wanting to open her eyes, she nestled further into the plush surroundings with a contented sigh. But, ugh, something really stunk. What in the heck smelled… like a soggy ditch? She turned to lay on her other side, shifting and resting her head on her arm.

…Oh. She found the source of the stench. Realizing she was what smelled terribly funky, her recollection struck and Mina stiffened in her cozy cocoon. This most definitely wasn’t her bed. She kept her eyes closed, doing her best to feign sleep while mentally trying to get herself together.

Mina fought off a shudder; recalling that not only had she been seen by a human, but actually HELD in their HAND! Her entire being easily fit in a single human hand… Everyone knew humans were enormous, their heavy footfalls enough to rattle any borrower’s whole frame with ease…

There came a gentle pressure on the material covering Mina, causing her to flinch instinctively into a ball, hiding completely beneath the plush fabric. Had she not clasped both hands over her mouth, she might have let out an involuntary noise with how fast her heart pounded from the shock.

“Frick, sorry! Sorry! Just another blanket! You were shaking again…”

Mina remained curled in a ball within the soft material, no clue what she should do. In all her 26 years she had never before been seen by a human, only observed them from afar. Honestly, the most contact she’d had with humanity was from what she’d seen on TV, or read in human books. What’s more, this particular human had only moved into the building maybe five months ago and Mina had only been able to catch enough glimpses of them to get an idea of their schedule.

“Uh… Are you alright?”

Having NO IDEA what to do, Mina wouldn’t consider herself to be “alright” at this moment. Anxiety fueled her imagination. She remained curled up defensively with her eyes shut tight, jaw clenched, and mindlessly feeling her own soft, still damp hair for some semblance of comfort. Her eyes were wet, entire body tensed and dreading the worst.

Surely a span of time had passed, yet nothing happened. What could the human want with her? Mina’s stomach dropped. Could she already be in a cage, the human marveling at her like one of their pet fish? She needed to know. Reaching in minute increments, Mina carefully lifted the material covering her to cautiously peer out at her surroundings.

Beyond the relative comfort of her plush shelter, Mina recognized the linoleum and tiling used uniformly in each kitchen throughout the apartment building. Damn, she realized her bag and gear were probably still on the shelf above the goldfish tank. Unless, had the human found those as well? Mina took a deep breath to try and steady her nerves and concentrate; it didn’t look like she was in any sort of cage at least.

Mina realized she hadn’t heard the human for a while. Could they have left? She didn’t think so; she would have felt, if not heard, the giant footsteps. No, the back of her knee still itched and the hairs on her neck remained on end; she could feel those eyes looking on her, like before. Still nothing happened, the human made no movements, yet Mina was tense all the same.

She REALLY didn’t want to reveal her presence in any capacity, but her usual body heat had returned before waking, though she was still damp. By now her blanket shelter was uncomfortably stuffy and she was nearly sweating. Taking a deep, reassuring breath, Mina carefully lifted the covers with an arm. The fresh air was pleasant, though not the usual cool Mina had expected.

Mina took another steadying breath and, forcing herself not to think, she held the material over herself like a cloak as she sat up. Willing one of her eyes to peek open, she only saw more of the kitchen counter. Cautiously turning her head, Mina’s breath caught as the human’s abdomen came into view, then becoming her entire view. Mina’s heart felt like it was trying to run away since she couldn’t, held in place by dread. Every fiber of her logic and being screamed against it, but her gaze crept higher, almost against her will.

How could two creatures, two beings be so alike, yet simultaneously so vastly different? Mina felt frozen solid, eyes wide and locked with those gargantuan, unreadable brown ones. She almost forgot how to breathe, stunned as she was reminded just how GIGANTIC humans are. Both just stared at the other, Mina keeping a careful watch as the human tilted their head.

“Are… are you alright? Like, not hurt?”

The human asked after a pause, Mina jumping slightly when their hand came into her view, but it was quickly hidden as the human rubbed the back of their neck. Mina couldn’t respond even if she’d wanted to, her heart felt like it was stuck in her throat. Unable even to tear her gaze away to look for possible access to the walls, or anything that could help her.

The human being’s eyes barely moved, looking her up and down for any sort of response. When she gave none, they let out a heavy sigh, looking around and leaning back in their creaky wooden chair. After a pause, they scratched their chin stubble, gigantic features hard and unreadable.

“…I’m Ashley.”

The human offered flatly, crossing their arms and shifting in the old chair once more. Mina elected not to talk, even if she could right now she didn’t want to; which for her that was saying something. Right now she just wanted to be anywhere else, away from the view of these unnaturally large eyes.

She needed to think, to ignore her panic and figure out how she might get to the safety of the walls with no gear, no clear course of action, and this giant watching her every move. The tension was practically palpable, Mina felt brain dead and unable to think coherently, panic rising once more from the core of her being.

The human’s gaze fell as they took another deep breath, turning their head away a little with their exhale.

“Right… I know when I’m making someone uncomfortable…”

They started softly, still a little gruffly, eyes returning back to Mina.

“I think I need some air, um, so if there’s anything you need, or I can do… I guess let me know now? Otherwise, guess I’ll be back a little later.”

They waited for any kind of respond from Mina, but she was still processing what the human said. Surely this was some manner of trap. The borrower flinched more than she would like to admit as the human slowly stood up, chair creaking, and took a step back, distance Mina appreciated greatly. They glanced around the countertop like they were searching for something.

“Hmm… maybe…?”

Slowly, the human moved their chair so it’s side was flush with the counter, then awkwardly moved back a couple steps.

“Uh… you’re welcome back whenever. I, um, hope to see you around.”

The human said awkwardly, offering a slight wave before looking around, then grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. With a few strides the human went from their kitchen to the living room, footsteps pausing, then shuffled and came a rustling sound, then the apartment door creaking open then closed, and finally the keys in the lock.

Mina’s heart still pounding, her brain struggled to process just what in the hell was going on. Ears perked for the slightest sound, the borrower took calming breaths, mind still frantic as racing dragonflies. Stiffly she looked around, then stood tentatively and stretched, joints cracking, muscles grateful for the relief. Ever weary of her situation, Mina cautiously explored the portion of the countertop she could access.

As she thought, no sign of exits into the walls from up here on the counter. She had ventured into this apartment through a hidden door on the topmost of three shelves on the wall above the goldfish aquarium. Her gear was on the middle shelf, quite far away and requiring climbing gear to reach it, too. Given, of course that it was even still there. Mina reluctantly pushed this out of her mind, no help to her at this moment.

The human’s chair seemed like Mina’s best bet down from the counter, at least she was dry enough the rubber band grips of her gloves and boots held steady. She climbed from chair back to the seat, to a leg and finally the floor. Cautious, listening for any sign the human could be returning, Mina sprinted for a gap where the wall had shifted away from the tile floors just enough for the borrower to slip through flat on her stomach.

Mina brushed herself off, picking dust and cobwebs off her clothes and out of her hair in the seemingly brief span of time it took to get back to her home. With restless hands, insides and thoughts, she struggled to understand the day’s surreal events.

She had been seen.

#fishtank #ch2 #chapter 2 #mina #g/t #g/t community #giant/tiny #borrowers #borrower #borrowersona #giant tiny #my ocs #oc #my writing #g/t writing #Mina meets Ashley #love a slow burn friendship

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kanmom51 · 3 years

Note

I wouldn’t say that JK was uncomfortable in that clip but he did look like he wasn’t in the mood to me & that’s ok imo !!! lol I’m a hardcore Kookmin lover and that’s what I saw in his face. Everyone can see and interpret different things. Couples or people that are super close with each other are allowed to be annoyed with each other every once and a while.

I’m a firm believer that small instances like that don’t disprove anything for me as much as the super close moments they have-often might I add- don’t necessarily prove anything for some other people.

I, for one, still think they have a really close relationship that goes beyond just friendship & a 1 second clip of Jungkook looking like he wanted to say ‘Really Jimin??, we’re doing this right here and now???’ does not mean that they aren’t close or that Jungkook is ‘uncomfortable’ with Jimin touching him or being close to him. Now THAT narrative is absolute bullshit.

I have received many asks like this or similar to this or just all up about JK's reactions, so I will answer them all in one ask, because I don't want to repeat myself. These are the asks I received (all your voices will be heard):

Ask2:

u cant blame people for thinking jk is not comfortable with jimin because everytime jm does something with him he looks annoyed as hell

ask 3:

Look I've been a supporter since 2017 and Jikook has never once made me cringe or feel awkward. JK has literally almost kissed JM and brushed lips with him and just smiled and never looked awkward. Whatever is happening with Jikook the last several months JK looks stiff and odd anytime JM interacts with him. If he is with JM, then they need to have a talk, cause All I've seen all day long is people calling JM an assaulter and homewrecker and they all say its because of JKs reactions every time.

Ask 4:

If they are broke up, JM needs to learn boundaries. If they aren't, then JM needs to have a long serious talk with JK, cause new army's coming in are already convinced JM makes JK uncomfortable. JK shouldn't have to change to please others, but if JM is his boyfriend, he needs to stop acting repulsed or annoyed or stone faced when JM touches him, cause people feed off his reactions. He fuels it. It really looks like he doesn't want JM touching him if thats the case he needs to leave JM alone too

Ask 5:

JM has looked like an extremely clingy boyfriend lately and usually I love that, I love it even more when its JK being bold and clingy, but the last several months JK's reactions make me cringe for JM. I definitely think JM is over the separation shit, the way RM rolls his eyes or they have to lie and he's probably over everyone shipping his boyfriend with his best friend, but JK isn't going a long with his boldness cause he probably is worried. I just hope this doesn't cause them more problems.

Ask 6:

Either they broke up or JK has become more private about their relationship, because there is no more excuses for JK's reactions toward JM anymore. He KNOWS JM is being hated on every single time they interact, esp here lately and he is doing NOTHING to change the narrative. Therefore its either cause they really aren't together and JK really is uncomfortable or the company told them to tone it down and JK's worried and stiffens up around JM. Its not funny anymore JM is getting formal complaints

Ask 7:

I'm tired of jikook interacting thing when it's only jimin interacting with jungkook and jungkook looks like he's in a funeral. I believe jm likes him but the narratives y'all create about jungkook are so different from his actual reactions and everyone can see that and it's the only reason jimin gets so much hate.

Ask 8:

JM deserves someone who treats him equally. Its clear JK has tapped out of whatever they have and JM isn't letting go. 2017, 2018, 2019 JK would not treat JM this way. In fact, it seemed like JK was ready to tell the world he was dating JM. His boldness in front of cameras, then. He never shunned/made JM look bad. If I did not know Jikook's relationship, I would think JM was an aggressor who makes JK uncomfortable cause that is how it reads no matter how hard we defend it. JK doesn't deserve JM.

Ask 9:

i cried so much today, honestly fuck jungkook. i hope jimin realizes how their "interactions" look on camera and sticks to his word of not even talking to him

ask 10:

JM is telling us one thing, JK is telling us another. Every time something happens with Jikook, its usually because of JM and JK looks uncomfortable, then JK will wear green & purple. JM leans on JK butter pic, JK wears green & purple shirt next day. JM trying to have moments with JK at muster, net day, JK wears purple & green earrings. I'm guessing JK will wear purple & green together soon again. JM deserves better, cause that's not cool if JK is his boyfriend and its not cool of JM if Jk's not

Ask 11:

It's not the same anymore with Jikook and Jk is the main reason. His actions towards Jimin is why its hard to continue defending Jikook. If they're together, then JK needs to treat him better period. I'm not saying he has to kiss his boyfriend in public or shout he's mine, but stop flinching, cringing and sitting there with a pissed look when he interacts if he's your boyfriend. If he's not, set boundaries and leave JM alone and stop leading him on. I'm scared for JM. BH might let him go.

Ask 12:

Genuine Q, why does everyone say jungkook is clingy with jimin? Even always behind the scenes is jimin clinging to him, looking for the tiniest way to interact with him and jungkook is always a passive receptor of all his affections. I like them together but seeing so many people say things I have never seen makes me confused and it's frustrating. Even lee hyun hugged jimin today more friendly than jungkook ever has. ANd I don't mean a 'backhug'.

Ask 13:

If he's going to be fond of JM, I'd rather he show it rather than leave JM out to dry.

So, here we go.

First thing I have to say is, please everyone take a big breath, let it out and lets start talking here.

I will start by saying that neither JK nor JM ow us a thing!! JK doesn't have to prove to us he likes or loves or wants JM, and visa versa.

If they choose to show us, every once in a while, it's their prerogative, not our right.

So, if JK loves JM, if they are in a relationship, it's JM he has to show he loves him, not us.

Where were all of you when JK was practically forcing his arms around JM to hug him after the recording of the Black swan performance? JM clearly didn't seem pleased at that moment. Were you discecting his reaction then? Either way, if your answer to the question is yes or no, you need to stop for a second and think why you were.

Moving on.

JK is not impassive to JM. JK is not hating what JM does. JK is being JK.

I have said this soooo many times before. JK in control of a situation is not the same JK caught off guard or surprised.

When JK is caught off guard he goes into a panic mode of sorts. Many times it looks like a total shut down. Freeze mode, if you wish to call it that. Resting bitch face is also good here.

When JK is in control of a situation he is happy, he is bold, he, in his mind, knows what he’s doing, where he is taking things and f**k the consequences, as far as he is concerned (at least for that split second he decides to do his crazy).

When JK is not in control and caught off guard he loses it. This is a shy introvert that suffers from anxiety. Please don’t let his stage persona confuse you.

JK isn’t uncomfortable with JM. He loves him. And even if you don’t believe they are a couple, I’m sorry, but that is something no one can deny, JK’s love for JM.

JK is an adult, he can be pretty assertive when he wants to. Yes, there is the age hierarchy, but he has shown us on more than one occasion that if he doesn’t want someone to hug him or touch him, he will push them off. We need to understand this. If JK didn’t want JM to touch him, he would push him off. If JK didn’t want JM to jump on him, he wouldn’t have caught him, it’s not like JM would have fallen on the ground. Do I have to remind just how many times JK has lifted JM and loved every single time he has done it.

But you ask, why a big smile on his face then and not this time?

Again, he knew what was coming then, he had control over the situation. He wasn’t caught off guard.

That’s JK, that’s who he is, and you cannot expect him to change who he is, how he reacts, how his face looks just because it doesn’t look good on camera to you, just because fans will dissect it to pieces and then go all nasty and turn it against the one person he loves most.

You can’t turn it on him.

It’s on the fans that as far as I am concerned shouldn’t be even called fans. The haters that instead of loving BTS and all their members are busy trying to break them down.

I will say this both to JM and JK stans:

Those are your bias, each one of them. And you bias loves the other one, JK loves JM and JM loves JK (no matter the level of love, friend, boyfriend, partner, they love each other).

You claim to love them, so how can you point so much anger and hate towards the one person they love so much????

If you don’t have something good to say, don’t say it. Because, saying something bad about the one your bias loves, well, don’t you think it would hurt them too???

Your bias, the person you claim to admire, care for, support, he chose to love this other person. Why don’t you give him some credit that he knows what he’s doing? That if that other person was treating him badly, he would no longer be with him, no longer gravitate towards him. No one is forcing him to always, always, be by his side, rub his neck, hug him, talk about him (always positive things, at that, unless it’s giving us information we didn’t really need to know about the other, like how long they shower, how loud they snore, who they were with at 4 am etc.).

PLEASE give your bias the well deserved credit that he knows what his wants and needs are. If JM didn’t want to be with JK, if he felt his needs weren’t being met, he wouldn’t be with him. Same said about JK.

They know how to disconnect, how to distance themselves and still stay professional, and yet, they choose to be at each other's side. That should say something to you.

So, my suggestion to you is to just leave them alone. Yes, I said it.

Let them be who they want to be. We cannot impose our needs for JK to show TKK’s he likes it when JM goes on the way he does on JK. He is who he is. If JM is unhappy with it, well he won’t put up with it, believe me. He is not a damsel in distress and doesn’t need the fans to save him from mean ole’ JK. JM is a strong ass man, I’ve said this many times before. He can take care of himself, and believe me, if he had a problem with JK’s reaction, the boy knows how to deal with it without fans coming to his rescue.

Fans need to stop inserting themselves into these young men’s lives. We are spectators, no more no less.

If you can enjoy them while understanding that, great. If not, well maybe the right thing is to take a breath, re-evaluate things and then come back.

#ask #anon

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rolandtowen · 3 years

Text

Prince Zuko was a harsh, entitled boy.

Firelord Zuko is a ruler who makes amends. - a study in the various side characters that Zuko came across in his banishment, and how he repays his past actions.

Read Chapter One on ao3 or under the cut! TW for referenced non-con and colonialism

[I believe @flamehotman and @flameomcfirey wanted to be tagged?]

Chapter One: Song

We will get there when we get there, don't you worry Feel bad about the things we do along the way But not really that bad We inhaled the frozen air Lord, send me a mechanic if I'm not beyond repair

- The Mountain Goats

It happened on a Tuesday afternoon.

Zuko was meeting with the agricultural council, a collection of both scholars and farmers, to discuss best practices for renewing the Fire Nations agricultural trade. For so many decades, the Fire Nation out-sourced its agriculture to land in the colonies and imported much of its food. But with the land being given back, the Fire Nation was either going to have to begin growing its own food again, or import their food at a fair price. The economic committee decided on Monday that reviving the Fire Nation farms would be far more cost effective - and of course, would create more jobs in the Fire Nation. With the war over, the number of soldiers that the military required had dropped dramatically, and there were many citizens without work. Zuko had instated severance benefits for unemployed soldiers - the ones not found guilty of war crimes of course, mostly the young recruits - but it couldn't last forever.

It was maddening. Every time Zuko unraveled one problem, he undoubtedly found or created another one. He was trying, really trying, to keep his people safe. But he also had a duty to the rest of the world. The nations that his lineage colonized, pillaged, and destroyed. He resists the urge to write to Aang, to ask him how he does it, how he balances all of the nations in every action he takes. But Aang is busy, all of his friends are, spread thin to the four corners of the world.

Uncle visits him occasionally, when the letters from staff concerned about Zuko's health pile up on his desk. One too many servants have found him, asleep at his desk, face down in treaty papers. But Uncle has his hands full. He already splits his time enough between the Jasmine Dragon and Ember Island, looking after Azula.

Azula.

She was improving, and that's really all Zuko can ask for. He sees her a couple of times a month, pours her a cup of tea, and they sit on the balcony of their vacation-house-turned-mental-retreat. Most of the time, they don't talk. Zuko won't push her; he remembers his silence in his first few months of being banished, how Uncle had to coax him to say anything at meals. Sometimes the only words he uttered in a day were in prayer before meditation. Zuko had thought to himself, speaking out got me into this mess: I'll never speak again.

He's not sure what words were exchanged between Azula and Ozai before he left her and went to burn down the Earth Kingdom, but he can guess it wasn't good. Few of his father's words were.

So they sit and drink their tea. Sometimes, on a good day, Zuko will fix up Azula's hair for her, and she'll reveal some bits of information that he files away for future examination. Something like, I saw Mom before you came with Master Katara. Or she'll double check her reality, asking, you let Ty Lee and Mai out of jail, right? and Zuko will say yes, her friends are safe, they should be visiting any day now.

As painful as seeing her may be, spending time with Azula is far preferable to sitting through an agricultural council meeting.

He looks down at the paper in front of him, a comprehensive budget list for all of the supplies needed to revitalize the Fire Nation's agricultural sphere. Dozens of machines that he's sure Sokka had a hand in inventing, hundreds of varieties of seeds that Omashu is generously selling to them, and -

Thousands of ostrich-horses.

"Councilor Yichen, can you elaborate on the number of animals in this budget? Certainly with the machines we'll provide, farmers will not need so many working livestock."

Councilor Yichen stands, giving a little bow in Zuko's direction. "Of course, Lord Zuko. While the machines will certainly boost productivity, we only have enough for one per farming village at this point. Each family needs at least one working animal, if not to plow the fields, then to transport goods. We decided on ostrich-horses on a recommendation from farmers in the Earth Kingdom colonies, who found them to be invaluable. An ostrich-horse is, in many ways, more valuable than a machine."

Zuko's stomach settles uncomfortably, but he isn't entirely sure why. "Thank you, Councilor. I understand now."

Yichen gives another little bow before he sits, and the rest of the meeting goes as planned, with the exception of a strange seed of unknown guilt now growing in Zuko's stomach.

"Uncle, do you remember when you made tea out of that poisonous plant?"

Uncle laughs, hands faltering as he pours Zuko a cup of jasmine tea. "I remember, Nephew. How could I ever forget?"

"Do you remember the girl who helped you?"

Uncle takes a sip of the warm tea. "Song. Her mother made the best roast duck." He looks at Zuko out of the corner of his eyes. "Why do you ask?"

Zuko looks out over the gardens. He's able to see the whole palace grounds from where they're seated on the second-floor balcony, watching the sun rise. As far as the eye can see, Zuko is upheld as a flawless ruler, his word taken as law. He's sick of it.

"I stole her ostrich-horse," he murmurs into his tea, taking a sip to calm his nerves. "I just remembered, in that agricultural meeting a few days ago. I - I never knew how essential those were to farmers, I just thought I was taking their ride." He turns to fully face his Uncle. "But I think I took a lot more than that."

Uncle meets his eyes with understanding. "And now you want to give it back."

"I know there's no way for me to fully apologize for how I acted in exile, but it feels like I have to try." The cup quivers a bit in his hands, and so his hands drop to his lap. "I'll need someone to watching over the Nation while I'm gone."

Uncle places one of his warm hands over Zuko's shaking ones. "I'm sure I can deal with your advisors for a few days." He squeezes his hand just slightly around Zuko's. "I'm proud to see that even in a few short months, your wisdom as a ruler is growing. Go, make your amends. The Nation will be here when you return." Uncle calls for Zuko's secretary and tells her to clear as much of the Firelord's schedule as she can for the next week. Their voices fade into the background as Zuko stares into his tea, wracking his brain to try and figure out how to track down just one girl in the entire Earth Kingdom. Sending scouts or soldiers from town to town is a recipe for disaster, and the Earth Kingdom villages have been traumatized enough. He supposes he could always call in a ride on his favorite air bison but - this feels like something he should do on his own.

If Song hates him, it might be hard for her to show it in front of the Avatar.

So he'll go alone. No friends, no royal guard. He'll come into Song's town the same way he came last time - defenseless. She can hate him if she wants, he'll give her that.

And he'll try to give back what he took from her.

He packs light, pulling an old tunic and boots from the back of his wardrobe. Though they've been thoroughly cleaned by the palace staff, the scent of campfires and smoke linger upon them. He grabs a cloak - the Earth Kingdom will be starting to chill at this time of year - and he slips out of the palace, using the servant's entrance to get onto the streets unseen.

Autumn comes quietly in the Earth Kingdom. The trees slowly lose their color, giving the last of their strength into vibrant leaves. Soldiers previously conscripted to fight in the war have either returned to their families or have gone to tend to the scorched earth where the Phoenix King made landfall. They clear the debris of fallen airships, making room for the earth to slowly restore herself.

Song envies those soldiers.

Their lives have changed with the ending of the war, but Song's life continues on, its mundane routine continuing over and over again. She cares for a small garden, crafts herbal remedies for her neighbors, and tries to make her mother comfortable. She curses the Spirits for their cruel sense of humor - her mother survives the greatest war ever seen, lives through the attempted invasion of her homeland, only to be struck down by frailty months after the end of it all. Hasn't she suffered enough? Song has whispered those words to the woods on her way to the well time and time again. Now, her body is just - stopping.

Her mother is dying and there's nothing she can do.

Song knows all living things have their time. And she's seen too many living beings go before their rightful time. But she never imagined her mother's time would be in a time of peace. Wasn't ending the war supposed to stop all this pain? Apparently not. She tries not to become bitter, knows that that's the last thing her mother would want for her, but - it hurts. And there's not a damn thing she can do about it.

The leaves from dying trees crackle under her feet.

She arrives at the well, alone. Her hometown is just barely beginning to wake up, rising from its slumber as mothers bring in dry clothes from the clotheslines and fathers begin to toil in the fields. Children run freely from street to street, with a joy that was forbidden during the Fire Nation's occupation. They're kicking at a ball, passing it from one pair of bare feet to another, and Song smiles at them. Someday, maybe.

She sets her water jug on the stone wall of the well and begins to lower the bucket before hearing the ball make impact and a man's voice grunt, "oof!". She spins rapidly around to see a young man, rear planted firmly in the dirt, one hand rubbing at his forehead while the other wipes at a watering eye. The group of children stand, frozen, and she gives them a look, and unspoken command to stay and apologize to the man they just hit with their ball.

"Here, take my hand," Song holds out her right hand, and the man takes it. When the young man meets her eyes, she almost drops him back in the dirt. He has those amber eyes, and she can just see under his loose hair - a burn scar. "Lee?!"

He stands, brushing dust from his cloak, and she catches the hints of red fabric that lie beneath. She recoils. He sighs. "Um, about that." Song sees his hands tremble against his cloak. "My name's not Lee - and I'm from the Fire Nation."

Song reacts as if she'd been slapped. She trips backwards, away from Not Lee, landing hard against the stone of the well. Her leg is aching, feels like its on fire all over again, looking into those amber eyes.

"How could you? I let you into my home." She braces her hands against the well, her leg threatening to give out at any moment. "Now it all makes sense, that you stole from me. That's all you ashmakers are good for." She spits, and it lands on his scarred cheek. "You take land that isn't yours, take women that aren't yours, you take lives!" Her leg finally collapses, and she sinks to the ground with her back against the well. Not Lee makes a move, and she throws her hands up. "Don't you touch me," she grits out, clutching at her leg. He stills, and she wraps her arms around herself, bringing her knees to her chest. "I pitied you, you know? I thought your mother must've been - I looked at your eyes and thought you were a victim like me, like my mother." Her whole body is trembling, but she doesn't care. "But I bet you know who your father is, I bet you're proud to have his eyes."

Not Lee mirrors her, curling in on himself, not even bothering to wipe his face clean. "I do know who my father is, but I'm not proud of him." He looks up to meet her eyes, and Song is struck by how young he looks. When she'd last seen him, he'd looked gaunt, malnourished, with sharp cheekbones. Now, his face had filled out and he looks - young? The scar makes him look older as well, but when you look on the opposite side of his face - all she can see is a kid, couldn't be older than a teenager.

And he was crying.

Stubborn as he is, Not Lee is resolutely ignoring the tears slowly falling from his eyes, but nevertheless - they fell. Song didn't expect that reaction. Tears are not what she expected from a Fire National. Anger, rage, violence - those are the things she's tasted at the hands of firebenders, but this? This is new.

"I'm sorry," Not Lee whispers, looking at his feet. "I came to apologize, I wanted to repay you for your kindness and return what I took. But I think I've overstayed my welcome." He scrubs at his face roughly with the heel of one hand. "But I am, truly sorry. I acted selfishly the last time I was in your home, and I took advantage of your compassion. And I understand that my nation has done even worse. I'm trying to make it better." He pulls his hair back with a band. "I know you have no reason to trust me, but I would like to purchase you a new ostrich-horse. And anything else you or your mother may require."

Without warning, Not Lee shifts from his seat position to a bowing one, kneeling with his head pressed to the dry earth. Song stares at him for a small eternity, before realizing that he's waiting, unmoving, for her response. For her judgement.

She lets out a small breath. "Okay," his eyes flick up to hers and her stomach twists. The way he bows is so precise - it must have been drilled into him hundreds of times before. Another thing she wouldn't have expected from a firebender. "Come to dinner."

He stands after she does and gives another slight bow. As they begin the walk back to Song's home, he offers to carry her water jug, and Song feels more weight than one lifted from her.

"What did you say your name was again, young man?" Mei pokes at Zuko's shoulder as she hobbles to the table.

"Mom, I'm sorry about her, she's getting older," Song sets a bowl of fragrant roast duck in front of him and Zuko feels his mouth begin to water.

"No, it's okay, I don't think I've actually properly introduced myself." He takes a quick sip of tea - bracing himself for whatever will happen next - and calmly sets the mug back down. "My name is Zuko," he begins slowly. "AndI'mkindoftheFirelord."

There's the sound of Song dropping a bowl in the kitchen, and Mei leans in a bit closer to Zuko.

"Sorry, dear, could you say that again? My ears aren't what they used to be."

Zuko opens his mouth to respond, but Song slowly enters the room, her eyes narrowed in on Zuko. "You said - you're the firelord?" He nods at her, waiting for her to swing a knife at him, kick him out of their home, call some earthbenders to rough him up -

Before his panic can start to set in, Song runs out the front door, slamming it behind her.

Zuko looks helplessly at Mei.

"Give her a moment." Mei brings her pair of chopsticks to her mouth. "Hmm, she still doesn't make it as well as I used to."

"What about you? Do you hate me?"

Mei sighs, putting her bowl down. "I'm too old for hate, dear. My time in this world is almost over. I can't spend it hating world rulers." She takes a sip of her tea. "But Song? She -" Mei sighs again. "She's been hurt deeply by the Fire Nation, in more ways than one. And it isn't just you. But for a long time, the monarchy has been the embodiment of everything terrible that's ever happened to her. And now you're here, standing in front of her."

Zuko nods. "I understand. And I am sorry, to you as well. I don't think I fully understood the reach of the war. I was always taught that the army acted with honor, that women and children were untouchable." He looks down at his folded hands. "I can see that was false."

"Unfortunately, you are correct." She reaches between them to refill Zuko's cup, then Song's, and hands them both to him. "Go to her. A bit of tea should help bring you some good favor."

The screen door opens and closes, and Zuko finds himself out on the porch. Song sits on the edge, absently massaging her leg, peering into the darkness of the forest.

"Can I join you?"

She shrugs, and he takes that as a yes. Handing over her tea, Zuko sits besides her and tries to find what she sees in the darkness.

For a few minutes, the only sounds are those of them drinking and crickets chirping. Then Song speaks.

"His name was Bao."

Treasured. Precious. Rare.

"That's a lovely name."

"What happened to him?" Song turns abruptly to look at him with shining eyes. "Did he...?"

Zuko shakes his head emphatically. "My Uncle and I traded him to a florist for safe passage to Ba Sing Se. The florist seemed like a good man."

"You went to Ba Sing Se?"

Zuko runs one hand down the back of his neck. "I might have conquered it, actually?"

Sing snorts. "That part I've heard about. You've lived an interesting life, Zuko."

"If by 'interesting' you mean messy, then yes." He sighs. "You had no reason to trust me. Why did you let me back into your home?"

Song laughs, tinged with bitterness. "My mother says I'm too trusting, too gullible." She swirls the dregs of her tea around the bottom of her cup. "But I think there's strength in being kind. And I really did want to forgive you. But you have to be ready."

"And do you think I am?"

She smiles softly at him. "For me, yes. But my guess is I'm not the only person you hurt in exile." She gulps down her remaining tea. "They may not be as forgiving as I am."

"I'm preparing myself for that possibility."

"Does it scare you?"

Zuko ponders it. "I think it does. The idea that I've hurt someone innocent so badly that they may never be able to move past it... that keeps me up at night."

Songs turns towards him, tucking her knees up to her chest. "We can't control how other people see us in this life. How they react to our actions is up to them - all that we can control is our response. You have to be ready to accept that someone may not be ready to forgive you, and you can't let that eat you up." She stares at him intently. "You have to confident that your own actions are enough. That they're good."

It's Zuko's turn to laugh sourly. "Easier said than done," his hand wanders to his scar. "Sometimes I'm still not sure if what I'm doing is right."

"You don't have to do it alone, you know," Song gives him an understanding look. "You need other people around you, Zuko, to remind you what's good."

He huffs, looking down at his hands, folded in his lap. "Do you want to be one of those people?"

"I think you have more than enough goodness surrounding you already. You just have to be confident enough to ask." She sighs, looking back out into the darkness. "Besides, I have to stay here with my mother. She doesn't have long."

"Are you sure there's nothing I can do? I could send my healers -"

She shakes her head, cutting him off midsentence. "It's her time." She begins to rub at her scars again. "I just didn't know how much it would hurt. We finally have some peace, and suddenly it's her time."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, not for this. It's due to you that she'll be able to die during peacetime." Her hands come to her eyes, wiping tears away before they can spill down her cheeks. "Her biggest fear was that she'd die and leave me alone to fend for myself during the war. You released her from that fear. Of course I forgive you, Zuko. My mother's no longer scared of dying because of you."

The two of them are silent for a long time, watching fireflies flicker off and on in the trees, listening to the crickets sing.

"I'm going to find Bao for you."

Song looks up in surprise. "You don't have to-"

"I want to, I'm sure he's still out there somewhere." Zuko rises from his seat. "If you ever need anything, anything, you write directly to me. I'll tell my staff that you're a priority."

"Are you leaving?" Song stands as well. "You could stay, if you want."

Zuko shakes his head silently. "I have to get back, and travelling by night is best for a Firelord who doesn't want his identity revealed," he smiles, his scarred skin relaxing into it. With that, he pulls his hair out of its topknot, grabs his pack and swords, and starts to disappear into the night.

"Firelord Zuko?" He stops and turns back at the sound of Song's voice. She makes the sign of the flame and bows. "Thank you, for everything." He bows back, lower than protocol dictates, but he doesn't care.

Three weeks pass, and the air has turned bitterly cold.

Song again makes her daily trip to the village well, with snow crunching under her feet instead of dead leaves. The soldiers have returned from their work in restoring fields for the season, and so the village feels alive when she steps into it. Despite the chill, children still run in the street, under the watchful eye of their mothers and fathers. Song feels a twinge of longing, but she tries to focus on the happiness she feels for the children instead. Song sets her water jug on the side of the well, breathing hot air into her palms to warm her hands after touching the freezing stone.

"Excuse me, miss, are you Song?" A voice comes from behind her, and she turns to see two men dressed in red tunics.

"I am," she replies, tucking her hands into the pockets of her hanbok. "And you are?"

They bow to her. "We come on behalf of Firelord Zuko, to deliver a gift." A third man rounds the corner with an ostrich-horse on a tether. "We found him at a desert settlement, he's been well taken care of, but if there's anything you need -"

They're cut off as Song runs to throw her arms around the neck of the ostrich-horse. "Bao!" She strokes his beak, looking into his eyes. "Do you remember me?"

Bao cocks his head to the side, pupils widening as he chirps softly, and then he lets out a loud whinny, pushing his head into Song's chest. He purrs, closing his eyes and relaxes against her.

"Sweet Bao, it's really me, you're really home," Song can feel her eyes dampening, but holds it together as one of the men hands her a bit of parchment.

"A note from the Firelord. He wanted us to remind you that you can write to him anytime you need anything."

Song nods. "And tell him I said 'thank-you' again." Bao whinnies loudly again, and she adds on, "Bao says 'thank-you' too."

"Of course, miss." With a synchronized bow, the men depart, and Song unrolls the parchment.

Song,

I've followed your advice and surrounded myself with good people. It helps.

Give my best to your mother - my Uncle still talks about her roast duck sometimes. I've established a fund specially for women and child victims of the war, inspired by some of what you and Mei shared with me. Write me if you feel like you or anyone in your village wants to apply for it.

And, thank you for trusting and forgiving me. I'll try to keep earning it.

May the Spirits continually bless you,

Zuko

She tucks the parchment into her pocket, fills her jug, and finds herself back in Bao's familiar saddle after more than a year. "Come on, Bao," she says as she takes the lead into her hands, guiding them back to the empty farmhouse.

"Let's go home."

[if you read through this whole thing, go drink some water! I'll know if u don't :) ]

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sleepyjuniper · 3 years

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Ghost Stories - A Bugsnax Short Story

Hey guys, so this is a little thing I was suddenly inspired to write after watching Vinny's playthrough of Bugsnax, which I whipped up and left in the comment section of the campfire cutscene video. I figured people would come across it there, but I'm not so sure now, so I'm posting it here for anyone who cares. (It's not going anywhere else because I'm so embarrassed by my extreme inexplicable obsession with these characters that I can't bear anyone I know to read it fhdhdhsjsj) either way, it's just a fun first person practice piece that takes place in the canon game where everyone is telling scary stories around the campfire! It's under the cut, because I ain't a barbarian. I hope you enjoy!

There's funny moments in life sometimes, where you notice things that would normally go unnoticed unless paid close attention to. This was one of those moments. As I sit gathered around the campfire with these other grumpuses I hardly know nor do I particularly care about, the soft flicker of the campfire warming only my face and a bit of my limbs but doing nothing for my cold back, I simply stare into the licking flames and get lost in a trance. I notice how the dry logs glow and curl into themselves where the fire touches them. I sit mesmerized by the bright colors, while around me the grumpuses chat about the island and swap conspiracies. Gramble's nervous voice is mostly lost to me as he lays claims that something lurks beyond the woods at night.

Triffany's story about disappearing ancient grump bodies helps to drag my attention back to the current moment, and as she talks, I look around the rest of the quiet village. I almost thought I heard something walking around behind me, but when I looked, there was nothing.

I turn back to the campfire, and just then, a cold breeze picks up, and the fire dies out. The demeanor changes drastically, instantly, as everyone seems to get a bit more nervous in the dark. Filbo tells me to get some more firewood, and as I'm shuffling away from the campfire, I definitely hear something walking around. I turn on my heels to look for the source of the noise, but again see nothing. Before I go to the mill, I quietly tip toe around the houses and look in every crevice, but there's no grumpus, bugsnax, or alleged monster to be found. I find the wood and return to the campfire so everyone can continue chatting.

As everyone starts talking again, Beffica stands up and launches into a theory so wild and disturbing that it keeps me from drifting off again. Wambus is the first to contradict Beffica, saying grumpuses couldn't possibly cannibalize each other, and Filbo suddenly looks uncomfortable (or nervous, I'm not sure) and excuses himself. I watch him go, regretting that the most tolerable out of the colorful group of grumpuses is leaving, and force myself to endure and listen to the conversation. Yet another argument begins, and I can't help thinking that this is getting old. Beffica claims that not only is someone cannibalizing grumpuses, but that it's Floofty, and she saw them eat a grumpus with her own eyes. I share Gramble's anxiety for once, and then everyone stops talking at the sound of Filbo's far off scream. Everyone looks to me, and I think, what did I do to deserve this?

Clearly no one else is getting up, so I reluctantly rise from my seat again, and head off cautiously towards the bathroom.

I approach the outhouse, and there's a split second where I hear a noise and think oh it's just Filbo, and also ewwww, and also this is way above my paycheck. But then the noise gets louder and more guttural, and I don't think I've ever heard that noise come out of a grumpus before. Something about it is unnatural. Despite myself, I inch closer, feeling my fur begin to stand on end, feeling cold dread pooling in my stomach. Then Filbo's voice sounds behind me, and I swear I could've leapt three feet in the air from how much it startled me.

"Oh, hey buddy!" He exclaims with a friendly wave, then looks somewhat abashed. "Uh, sorry, I uh, I got a little too spooked and I came here to calm down."

I look from him to the outhouse, my fur once again standing on end, as I realize he was never in there in the first place.

"Wh- who's in the bathroom?" I question him, and he looks confused.

"Huh? I-I-I don't know what you're talking about, Buddy. Are.. you feeling okay? You look like you've seen a ghost!" He concludes with a chuckle, and I get the sense it's because my own nervous state is making him nervous, and he's trying to lighten the mood with jokes. I don't respond, so he clears his throat and speaks more decisively. "Well uh, let's keep it together and get back to the fire!"

I start to follow him, feeling distraught, but then I stop and decide to hang back for a minute. I turn around, walk back to the outhouse, and after a brief moment of collecting myself, I open the door, prepared to clear my conscious about the weird sounds I'd heard.

But when I do, there's nothing there.

I look all around, but I don't see anything out of the usual. I finally lean forward and look into the ominous hole, but it's too dark to see into its depths. And I feel pretty stupid after I do. I'm literally looking for clues inside a toilet. Frustrated, I leave the door open so nobody mistakes it for being occupied, and find my way back to the group.

After that ordeal, I simply don't have it in me to tolerate Wiggle's singing monologue, and it's all that I can manage to stay quiet and not explode while this ridiculous grumpus with a pineapple for hair sings about a supposed 'Queen of Bugsnax', while everyone miraculously listens in complete silence.

Just as she's finishing, there's a loud crash that has everyone jumping to their feet and staring in the direction of the noise. All except Wiggle, who STARTS SINGING AGAIN for some GRUMPING REASON. Everyone is too occupied to even notice.

After there's no further noise, everyone turns back to look at each other and figure out what to do next. I'm itching to figure out what the grump is going on, so I listen carefully as they debate. Filbo takes the lead, assuring everyone not to worry and that we'll check it out.

"If something goes wrong, sacrifice Filbo first." Is what Beffica says before we set off towards the mill, and also what I ignore.

I take the lead, and we make our way through the fog, to the millhouse, which now has a huge and jagged hole in the side, like a spuddy rammed straight through it, leaving it in splinters.

We step inside, and then venture up the stairs, and I stop short at the sight of a random green grumpus standing in the room. Filbo continues towards them.

"Chandlo?!" I hear him exclaim in disbelief, and I realize oh, this is just another one of Filbo's 'friends'.

So that explains some of it.. I think as I notice the extremely muscled nature of this grumpus, and recall the state of the millhouse's doors. Kind of barbaric to just barrel through it, though.

Apparently this grumpus is another of the pre-Lizbert-dissappearing villagers, and he introduces himself to me before him and Filbo continue talking. Apparently his name is Chandlo, and I gather that this is where he used to stay before Lizbert vanished. He's only come back to grab something he left in the house. Plus he mentions someone named Shelda? Then he reveals he's taking the stuff he came back for to someone named Snorpy.

My mind starts trying to piece together information about these new grumpuses he's named from the way he talks about them, while Filbo tries to convince him to come say hi to everyone else.

Chandlo rejects the invitation, saying if he does, they'll want him to stay, and promptly leaves with a cheerful "Catch ya later, bros!"

"But I- but I DO want you to stay!" Filbo yells after Chandlo, but the mysterious grumpus is already gone. "Oh, darn it!" He mumbles dejectedly, before turning back to me. "Oh well, let's get back and tell the others."

Back at the campfire, everyone is waiting for us. "Don't worry folks, I'm fine!" Filbo announces with a light-hearted chuckle. This is met with silence, until Filbo says "Oh, and the noise was just Chandlo." Everyone responds with a sigh of relief, and begins chattering again.

"But wait," Gramble says, "what if Chandlo WAS the Queen of Bugsnax?" Aaaaand there they go again. I slump into my seat again with an exhale, letting the chatter continue on while I rest my chin on one paw and zone out. As they talk however, I remember the whole bathroom encounter, and realize something.. doesn't quite add up. The noises hadn't been Filbo, but they couldn't have been from ANY grumpus. And on top of that, I hadn't heard anyone leave the bathroom afterwards. Whatever it was had simply.. vanished.

Unnerved, I try not to think about it, and for the first time, I'm comforted to simply be surrounded by these other grumpuses and just listen to them go on and on about their silly feuds and wild conspiracies.

Either way, there's definitely more to this island than meets the eye. And I'm going to get to the bottom of it.

#bugsnax #fanfiction #bugsnax fanfiction #bugsnax fandom #filbo fiddlepie #the journalist #beffica winklesnoot #triffany lottablog #wambus troubleham #gramble gigglefunny #wiggle wigglebottom #chandlo funkbun #snorpy fizzlebean #shelda woolbag #campfire stories #ghost stories #first person pov

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98prilla · 4 years

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Heat Stroke

I’ve seen a lot of “deceit is cold blooded so he gets cold easily” and I decided to flip the script. Too much heat is just as problematic for reptiles as too much cold. Read on A03 Here

He was warm. Not unusual. He tended to burrow under blankets while he slept, making more of a nest out of them than anything. He rolled over and yawned, about to go back to sleep, but he frowned. It was bright. He could see the light through his eyelids, it was far too bright in his room, he never left the lights on when he slept.

He realized with a jolt of panic that he wasn’t lying in bed, either. He didn’t feel the soothing weight of his blankets atop him, nor the softness of his mattress below. Instead, he felt hard ground.

He shot to his feet with a hiss, instantly awake and on guard, quickly taking in his surroundings with a sinking heart.

He was on a large, smooth rock. Before it was what looked like mulch woodchips. But beyond that….

He was in a cage. A terrarium, more accurately, he imagined Logan saying with an adjustment to his glasses. That brought a smile to his face for a moment, before it slipped away.

The glass sides of the tank extended upwards, so high and smooth there was no chance he was going to be able to climb them. The tank itself was a decent size, long enough it took him forty paces to reach from one side from the other, and twenty paces wide.

The most concerning part, besides having been somehow caged in the first place, was the light, and the heat it brought with it.

Looking up, he could make out what seemed to be a uv light, mimicking the sun and its rays, as well as its heat, along with a heat emitter bulb.

He was already growing uncomfortably warm. He could feel sweat starting to slick his skin, and he desperatly realized there was no shelter from the “sun", not shade, no water, anywhere to be found.

This was bad. This was beyond bad. This was awful.

Without realizing it, he reached for his power, trying to sink out, panicking further when he realized he couldn’t. He could still feel Thomas, but something was keeping him well and truly trapped here.

He started pacing furiously, knowing it would only make this worse in the long run, but he supposed it didn’t matter.

None of the so called light sides would trap him in this manner, no matter how much they disliked or disagreed with him. They were too fundamentally caring to put him through this. No, if they had the nerve to want to kill him, it would be a blow from Romans sword, not… not this.

Which meant it was one of the others, one of his… no. They weren’t his people anymore, were they? Hed given that up when he appeared to Thomas, when he’d made himself known, inserted himself into the equation after denying the rest of them that very thing for years.

He'd be lying of he said everything was fine over on the dark side of the mind, if he denied it was all falling apart, he’d known sooner or later there would be a price on his head. Because he was the only obstacle between them and Thomas.

And they were tired of waiting.

Suddenly furious, he glared at the glass. He took a breath, retreating as far as he could, before he took a running start, slamming his shoulder against it.

He fell back with a pained cry, gasping as he tried to push past it. He only fell apart more as he looked up, realizing his attempt hadn’t even left the faintest trace of a mark against the glass.

He growled, getting to his feet, winding up before charging again. And again. And again. And again. And-

He screamed as he felt something in his shoulder give, his arm hanging limply at his side, the smallest twitch of his fingers sending agony coursing through his entire left side.

He slumped to the ground, head pressing against the glass as he tried to contain his sobs. He couldn’t cry. He couldn’t afford to lose any more water content.

He was hot. He was so hot. It felt like he was slowly burning, from the inside out, any moisture on his skin had already evaporated, and he could feel himself starting to get lightheaded, the world spinning ever so slightly.

No. No! He wouldn’t give up, he wouldn’t die here, he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of killing him.

Because unless he got out of here soon, he was going to die. His reptilian traits went deeper than the surface, after all. He’d always had trouble regulating his body temperature. With no shade, no water, no respite to the endless, aching brightness, he was going to overheat. He was going to be cooked alive. He was going to die.

It was slow, and cruel, because he knew exactly what was happening, he was lucid and aware as he staggered back from the glass, searching for something, anything, he could use, common sense giving way to terror.

His only hope was to buy time. Time for the lights to find him, as slim a chance as it was they would even notice, much less care.

Wincing and swearing with every step, he made his way to the edge of the rock, praying it didn’t go down too far, that it was just settled in the dirt, and started to dig.

It felt like hours. His forehead burned and his hand shook and he could feel his heart pounding too hard and too fast, like it was trying to claw its way out of his chest. He kept stopping to cough, so hard he thought his lungs would burst, so short on breath his body was convinced he must be choking, but the air scalded his insides, sent pain blazing down his throat.

Finally, he was down deep enough, down was the hard part. The mulch down here gave way to soft earth, still blessedly moist earth, and he widened his hole until it was just big enough for him to fit, if he curled up his tightest.

He’d made a burrow, digging out a small shelter underneath the basking rock, out of the light and the very worst of the heat, though it wasn’t enough.

He shivered. He knew that was bad, shivering. It meant his temp was hotter than that of his surroundings. Down here was cooler, only slightly, but cooler, and that meant he was already as hot as the surface of the cage, he guessed 101 or so, and rising.

He curled tighter, head against his knees as dark spots danced before his vision. He counted his breath, trying to slow his racing pulse, trying to breath in air, but his heart was so, so loud, it drowned out even his thoughts as he felt his muscles go limp.

What did it matter, anyway? No one was coming. No one cared. What did it matter, if he burned to death on his own heat, here?

It didn’t, he supposed. He let out a dry laugh, his tongue sticking to the bottom of his mouth, so dry he couldn’t even make spit anymore. It was like the sahara, in his mouth. He couldn’t speak now if he wanted too, which was somehow the most terrifying thought of all, because words were his weapon, his armor, his defense. Without them, he was nothing.

He was nothing.

He was…

Virgil was in the midst of the worst panic attack he’d ever had in his life. His knees were curled to his chest and he was rocking back and forth, unable to focus on anything else besides the noise in his head, screaming at him that it wasn’t safe, wasn’t right, wasn’t good!

He couldn’t see anything through the black and white spots peppering his vision, his breath coming in too short, unsteady gasps, that tore at his lungs and throat, that burned his chest and screamed in his ears.

He couldn’t hear anything over the blood rushing, pounding in his ears, his hands gripped his hair, he could vaguely feel his nails digging into his scalp, pricking fine points of pain, he could feel his teeth biting his lip so hard it started to bleed, but that pain wasn’t enough, it wasn’t grounding enough, he could taste the copper on his tongue, and it only made him gag, made his pulse rush faster. He knew someone was counting, someone was trying to reach out, but it was too hot, too hot, too hot!

“He can’t hear me.” Logan stated, withdrawing his hand at Virgil’s strangled noise at his touch, shaking his head hard and fast. Logan had stopped his counting. “He’s too far in his panic spiral.”

“So what do we do? Just leave him?” Patton asked, fear pitching his voice higher than usual. None of them had ever seen Virgil quite this bad, he looked to be on the edge of passing out.

“Where is he?” Roman yelped, jumping as Remus launched himself over the couch and into the common area.

“What the lemony snicket!? What are you doing here?” He asked, but Remus’s gaze had locked on Virgil. He walked purposefully towards him, before being blocked by Logan.

“Move.” Remus growled, glaring up at Logan, who’s arms were folded, letting his fierceness drop when he found no suspicion or hate in his eyes, only concern.

“I don’t know if given your turbulent history with Virgil, you should be interacting with him in his current state.” Remus shook his head, and Logan was surprised to find tears forming in his eyes.

“I can, I can, I need to, you don’t understand, it’s not him, it’s not-” Remus’s fists clenched and unclenched as he let out a breath from between his teeth, struggling to keep his words in order, to keep everything from spilling out, he was shaking, he couldn’t stop shaking.

“Please! Pleasepleasepleaseplease...” Logan heard Patton’s sharp inhale of breath as Remus broke into tears. He looked over Remus’s shoulder, seeing Roman speechless, gaping like a fish. Patton looked shocked, and he nodded once, towards Virgil. Logan frowned, but nodded back, looking down at Remus.

“ok. Just... just be careful with him.” Logan said softly, squeezing his shoulder as he stepped aside. Remus nodded, taking a few steps forwards, before kneeling in front of Virgil, who still rocked, breath catching and heaving, eyes covered by his bangs.

“Vee.” He said the old nickname, and instantly Virgil froze, head jerking up, eyes blown wide with panic as they met Remus’s.

“R...r...ree...” Remus shook his head, moving closer.

“It’s ok, stormy, don’t try and talk. It’s him, isn’t it? It’s Dee?” Virgil nodded so fast his head spun, and he closed his eyes against the wash of dizziness.

“Feel it. Bad, is bad, too hot, too hot!” Virgil cried, hands digging deeper into his scalp.

“None of that, now. Squeeze my hands ok? As hard as you need. You’re not gonna hurt me.” Remus said softly, surprised as Virgil instantly let go of his hair and clutched Remus’s hands as if they were his only lifeline, so hard Remus could hear bones popping.

“Good. That’s good, Vee. I know it’s hard, but I need you to focus. I can feel it too, he’s in trouble, bad trouble, right?” Virgil nodded again, and Remus could feel him calming somewhat.

“I need you to tell me what you can feel. What he can feel. We need to find him.” He could feel Virgil trembling, shaking as he started coming back to himself, rocking a bit faster on his heels. “I know its hard, I know it doesn’t feel good, I know it hurts, but you’re the only way we have to find him. I need you to try. I’m right here, I’ll be right here. Okay?” Remus reassured. Virgil bit his lip, wincing at the pain.

“O... oh... okay. Cl-closer? Pl-pl-please?” Virgil asked, breathless and shaky. Remus scooted closer, surprised as Virgil climbed onto his lap, letting out a trembling breath. Hesitantly, Remus let out his tentacles, wrapping them around Virgil to keep him steady on his lap, so he didn’t have to let go of his hands.

“Too much?” He asked, feeling Virgil shaking in his grasp.

“N-no.” He mumbled. “G-g-good.”

“Okay. Are you ready?” Virgil nodded. He took as deep a breath as he could, before squeezing Remus’s hands tighter, closing his eyes.

It was hot, it was far too hot. His throat was dry, scorching air in and out. It was dim, but not dark, he could feel something soft and dry on either side of him, dirt? Hopeless, he was hopeless, he was sure no one was coming, no one would find him, the others had done their job well, caging him in this glass prison like the snake he was, light and heat and rock and it was hot, hot, hot!

Dying, he was dying, he could feel it. His heart pounded too hard and too fast, his breath was shallow and quick, his vision was failing, his senses shutting down, he was burning, every inch was burning, and he was giving up, it was too much, his eyes slipped closed and-

“No! Nonono n-n-n-no, D-d-dee, Dee, d-d-d"

“Virgil. Virgil, where? I need to know, where?” Virgil was hyperventilating, on the edge of breaking down again, but he knew Remus was right, they needed to know where. He squeezed Remus’s hands harder, it hurt, it hurt, he couldn’t hold it much longer, but he needed to know, which one, which one, where...

“Wrath!” He gasped out, slumping against Remus, exhaustion cresting over him. “it was wrath.” He whispered, feeling the tentacles retract, only Remus’s arms left holding him, his hands having let go at some point, but he was too worn out to care, to open his eyes. He felt Remus press a soft kiss to his forehead, the tip of his nose. It reminded him of when Remus used to put him to bed at night.

He would always tell some rambling, nonsense story, it didn’t make any sense, and it didn’t have to, it kept his brain occupied, trying to decipher the words, letting his worries fade and allowing him to get some sleep. Before he drifted off, Remus would always tuck him in tight, whisper words of love, kiss his forehead, his nose, his cheek, before turning on his nightlight and gently shutting the door.

“Thank you. You did so good, my little storm cloud, my dark night. You are so, so, good, love. I’m so proud.” Remus murmured in his ear.

“Dee... y-you need to g-get Dee.” He felt a gentle hand brush his bangs back from his face, caress his face softly, and he shuddered, leaning into the contact.

“We will, Vee. I’ve gotta let you go, okay? We’re gonna go get him, right now.” Virgil clung to him tighter, shaking his head. For the first time, Remus looked up at the others.

Logan was looking at the two of them critically, no doubt trying to decipher what was going on, what had just happened, and Remus thanked his lucky stars that he had let Remus through, none of the others would have known what was happening, much less how to calm Virgil from an attack like this one. They’d never had to.

Roman was looking at him with wide eyed surprise and suspicion, a frown on his face, but Remus didn’t care what Roman thought at the moment, he had more important things to worry about.

“patton. I’m leaving you with Patton, ok? He’ll take care of you, you know he will. And... and I’ll be right back, ok? I’ll be right back with Dee.” Remus promised, shifting Virgil in his arms as he stood, passing him to a surprised looking Patton.

“He needs to sleep. Lots of sleep. And he usually gets cold, after this. And... and he might have nightmares. He will, until I get to Dee, but even after that, so be careful if he wakes up in the next hour or so, he won’t be here, fully.” Remus listed off, turning away with fire in his eyes.

“Remus. I would like to come with you.” He stilled at Logan’s words, turning to face the logical side, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Why?” Logan adjusted his glasses.

“because from what I heard just now, it seems Deceit is in some sort of mortal peril, and I have the most medical knowledge of anyone here. Whatever the situation, I will be able to assist.” Remus didn’t have time to argue, and truthfully, he didn’t want to.

“I’m coming too.” That was more surprising. Roman and him were on ok terms, but still, Roman kept his distance, thought Remus was weird and gross. Roman softened at his brother’s gaze. “I know we don’t always get along, but I don’t hate Deceit. We need him, as much as we need you, as much as we need any of us. And if it is wrath, you might need the extra sword.” Remus nodded curtly, running a hand through his hair.

“Ok. I can take us directly there, take my hands.” Remus ordered, smiling just a bit as he felt two hands instantly hold onto his. He let out a breath, steeling himself. “this might be a bumpy ride.” Then he closed his eyes and the three sank out.

Logan and Roman staggered as their feet touched solid ground. It had felt like they were falling for eternity, swirling around and around until they hadn’t known up from down, until their minds spun and they feared they’d never make it out.

Then it was suddenly over.

“Um... you alright? I did say it was a bumpy ride.” Remus said sheepishly as Logan straightened his glasses, and Roman stood up from where he’d been hunched over, trying not to hurl.

“Fine. I’m fine. Let’s just... get a move on.” Roman replied, glancing around. They were in a hall with doors, much like their hallway on the light side. Remus stalked over to one painted brilliant, crimson red, flame decals across the bottom. With a battle cry, he kicked the door in, mace in hand as he prepared to swing. He froze instead, mace dissepating in the air as he ran to the glass.

“Dee! Snake face, can you hear me?” He shouted, pounding against the glass. No response. He swore, mace appearing back in his hands. He wound up, and swung forcefully. It bounced off, but left a hairline crack. He screamed, and hit it again, fractures spiraling up the glass. One more swing, and an explosion of glass shattered inwards, sending him stumbling forwards and onto his hands and knees. He barely noticed the glass cutting into his knees, scratching his hands and cutting into his skin. It didn’t matter.

Dim, not dark. That’s what Virgil had said, so he wasn’t above ground, somewhere, there was no shade to be seen. He noticed the heat next, it was hot, easily over a hundred, probably more, and he cursed again. Too hot, burns, Vee was right yet again.

He scanned the mostly empty area, noticing a strange pile near the large rock in this... god, he hated to call it an enclosure, but that’s what it was. He sprinted towards it, feeling himself sweat. He ran hot, if he was already sweating from this, and Dee had been here long-

The pile wasn’t Dee. It was dirt. But next to the pile was a shallow hole. He dropped into it, looking around, dim, not dark. And there he was. He sucked in a breath, cursing in a nonstop rant as he reached in, gently extracating Deceit from his clumsily made burrow.

He was burning hot. He was so hot his skin was red and burned, his scales were dry and flaking. His breath was far, far too fast and shallow, rapid breaths against his too quick heartbeat. His head lolled against Remus’s chest, completely limp in his arms, and one arm hung at an unnatural angle. He was too hot, too dry, his fever was up to 110.

“The fuck are you doing in my room?” His voice was hot and scorching, raspy and burning. Remus turned, glaring just as hard as Wrath was, feeling his tentacles sprout from his back, his mouth twisting into a snarl. Surprise flashed across his face as Roman and Logan stepped between him and Wrath, Roman’s sword drawn, and Logan’s hands glowing a deep green.

“Oh come on, you brought the lovey dovey squad with you? How pathetic.”

“Not pathetic. Strategic.” Logan replied. Wrath rolled his eyes.

“Please. How’d you even know he was here? I made sure he couldn’t call for help.” Wrath stated, leaning casually against the wall, making Remus growl deep in his throat. “Was it that little tattle tale wannabe light side? I’ll have to pay him a visit, teach him a lesson.” Remus moved to step forwards, but Roman did before he could, eyes aflame.

“You won’t be going anywhere near him. You won’t be going anywhere near any of them, ever again.” Roman growled, flames erupting from his sword, and with a slash, they sprung from the ground, surrounding wrath in head tall, burning blue flames. For the first time, fear sparked in Wrath’s eyes as he pressed back against the wall.

“you wouldn’t.” Wrath hissed, and Roman’s eyes narrowed as he leaned through the flames, which didn’t singe a hair on his body, pressing his blade to Wrath's throat, just hard enough to draw a bead of blood.

“I fucking would. And if i ever see your face again, if you ever threaten my family again, if you ever hurt any of them again, I will. I’d lay low for a while, if I were you.” Roman hissed, twisted smile on his lips as flames danced in his eyes. ”Otherwise, who knows what unfortunate accident might befall you?” With that he turned on his heel, walking back to Remus, Logan already examining the unconcsious Deceit with a frown on his face.

“He’s gotten heatstroke. A very acute, severe case, as well. The best thing we can do is get him back to the commons and work on cooling him off, slowly, so as to not shock his system. If we do this carefully, he should be alright. I can tend to that arm there, as well.” Logan reassured lowly. Remus nodded, glaring up at Wrath once more, hoping he conveyed all his hatred and ire in that one look, succeeding, if the shudder Wrath gave was any indication. Then Logan and Roman each took hold of one of his arms, and they sunk out.

Hot, hot, burning. His scales were flaking, falling off, his skin was peeling, turning red, his breath was short, his heart was failing, he was dying, Dee was dying, he couldn’t hold on any longer, they were too late, and he was gone-

He shot awake with a wild sob, hands covering his face as he shook, unable to shake the vision of Dee from his mind, unable to tell if it was true or not, but he could still feel the residual pain, the fire that crawled through his veins, that burnt him up from the inside out, that devoured his breath and his lungs.

He jerked as he felt a hand on his shoulder, meeting Patton’s eyes.

“Kiddo? You okay?” Virgil shook his head, arms wrapping around himself. It was still too hot, too hot, but something else, something good. Safe, he was safe, they had him!

He scrambled to his feet just as the others sunk back in, everyone staggering except Remus, who had a determined look on his face as he set Deceit down on the couch. Instantly, Virgil was on the couch, Deceit’s head in his lap, stroking his hands through the side’s hair, tears falling silently down his face.

“Roman, get me a box fan, something that can blow a steady stream of air on him, and the aloe from the bathroom. Patton, a bowl of cool water and a washcloth, as well as the ice packs. I’ll get my medical supplies. Remus, stay with the both of them.” Logan ordered, everyone splitting up on their respective quests.

“Vee? How you doing?” Remus asked softly, sitting on the arm of the couch behind Virgil, wrapping his arms around Virgil’s middle.

“good. Bad. I don’t... it’s all... still see it.” Remus nodded, tucking his chin against Virgil’s shoulder.

“It’s ok, stormcloud. Can you breathe with me? Just try to match me, okay?” He breathed in deep, mentally counting, emphasizing each step, feeling Virgil begining to copy his rhytm. By the time the others returned, he’d slid off the arm and into Virgil’s seat, Virgil curled on his lap, arms wrapped around his neck, face pressed against his chest in sleep, Dee’s head in his lap.

“We need to remove his layers, it’s only hindering him at this point. Roman?” Logan asked. Roman nodded, and with a snap, Deceit was in a soft tee shirt and pajama shorts. It was strange, seeing him so exposed, and a bit unnerving. It frightened him, seeing the usually suave and smooth side so unguarded and unresponsive, Roman realized, and looking at the others, he could tell they felt the same.

Quietly, Roman plugged the fan in, turning it on low and setting it on the coffee table, blowing air at Deceit’s torso. Logan took the ice packs, and positioned them under Deceit’s armpits, under his knees, and behind his neck, setting the arm in a sling, frowning as Deceit didn’t react at all to what would have been a very painful jolt. Patton carefully, gently, rubbed in the lotion and then the aloe onto his skin, wincing at the burns and dryness, at the flaking scales, at the heat still emenating from his body. Remus took the rag and started dabbing at Dee’s forehead, trying to cool his temp.

“Now what?” Patton asked, slumping back on the opposite end of the couch, looking to Logan for answers.

“We can do nothing but wait. Now that he is out of there, and cooling down, his pulse and breathing should start to return to a steady and normal level. He will be exhausted, his skin will hurt like a severe sunburn and take some time to heal, but he should be stable in only a few hours, awake a few after that.” Logan said, falling into his armchair. Roman was the only one who couldn’t seem to settle, pacing the floor.

“Remus, what...what was happening? With Virgil?” Patton asked, concern in his eyes as he realized Virgil was still shaking, face scrunched tight in his sleep.

“He sees things. When... when one of us is in trouble, he can sense it. Usually it’s not much, it’s small enough it doesn’t affect him at all. Like when Roman’s stressed over a video deadline, or Logan can’t solve an equation, or you can’t find the recipe you’re looking for. He feels it, the... stress, the anxiety, he can tell where it’s coming from and who. This... this was so strong, I could feel it. I knew he must if I could. When it’s that strong, he can’t separate what’s happening to the person he’s feeling and what’s happening to him. It’s like he’s there. That’s how I knew he could find Dee. He could see where he was, feel it, though it’s hard to focus enough to see details through someone else’s perspective. Between pushing himself to see, and the panic attack, he’s completely wiped out.” Remus answered, rubbing Virgil’s arm as the side started to whimper in his sleep.

“There’s only been a handful of times it affected him this badly. The first time was me. I got into a fight in the imagination I couldn’t win. I managed to get away, but I didn’t have the strength left to heal myself or shift the enviroment. I was bleeding out on the forest floor. Scared the hell out of Dee, but he caught on pretty quick that Virgil wasn’t just panicking, something was up. Enough details spilled out, Deceit realized what was going on, managed to find me based off his descriptions. I’d be dead three times over it weren’t for him.”

“And the other times?” Logan asked. Remus scowled, face darkening.

“What, can’t deduce that? Most of the others have never been fond of Dee. He’s the only thing keeping them away from Thomas, the only obstacle in their way to running rampant. I at least have the sense to see he’s right! I hate it, but he’s right to keep me from Thomas, to keep me away, to keep my presence to a minimum. I hate... I hate how I am, but that’s not his fault, has never been, and he...” Remus stopped, too choked up for a moment to continue, his gaze resting on Deceit’s too pale face. “The other three have been traps. Set for Deceit. To kill him. So the others can run free.” Remus laughed hollowly, shaking his head. “How funny, right? He plays the villain, puts on the façade, so you all don’t have to face the real monsters in Thomas’s mind. He’s spent every second of his existence protecting you all, keeping them away, almost dying for you and your precious standards of purity and light, and you couldn’t give less of a damn if you tried.” Remus closed his eyes against the grief and sadness and futility overwhelming him.

“I... I didn’t know... I’m sorry, Remus.” Remus shook his head, laughing bitterly at his brother’s words.

“You didn’t care to know. There’s a difference. Whatever. It doesn’t matter, it’s not the point.”

“Remus. It does matter. I mean it, I didn’t think, and I’m sorry. How... how long has it been like that?” Remus shrugged.

“It wasn’t so bad. We were never as close as you guys. But it only got worse after Dee revealed himself. It made them mad, why should he be able to show himself, but keep them all hidden? Who was he to hold that power? It had always been him, me and Virgil, against them. We both understood Dee, agreed with him. Virgil is fight or flight, anxiety, after all, he knew it was a bad idea. And I... well. Look at me. I know I’m not good. I know I’m just... just an illness. Then... then Vee left. We both helped push him out the door, pushed him to show up and make himself known, we knew what would happen, we knew he would leave, but we knew it was for the best. But it got harder, after that. They got stronger, and madder, and Virgil still stepped in, if we asked, but we didn’t want to drag him back into it, so we didn’t as much as possible and it was only a matter of time until something like this happened and I-” He caught his breath, gently stroking Deceit’s scaled cheek, cracking open his tear streaked eyes as he felt Deceit lean into his touch, though he still showed no signs of awakening. “I tried. I just... I can’t be everywhere at once. And he doesn’t tell me everything. He goes off on his own sometimes, and Wrath must have nabbed him then. Probably ambushed him, else Dee would have bit his head off.” Remus said fondly, dabbing the cloth over Dee’s scales, trying to get some moisture on them.

With his normal outfit gone, it was easy to see why Dee wore so many layers. Scales in varying colors, from the gold on his face, to deep silvery blue along his arms and pale lilac on his hands traced patches and lines across his body. His nails were sharp, reminiscint of talons, and he was thin, but his muscles were toned, no doubt allowing him more strength than he seemed capable of, and his whip fast speed. Along with the scales, they could see lines of old scars on his skin, no doubt a testament to all the scrapes he’d gotten into with the others.

“We’re moving you. If... that is, if you want. I’ll move your rooms up here right now. Then they can’t get to Deceit, and he can keep them contained using his power from a distance. If he has to go down there to handle them, at least he has a safe place to come back to up here.” Patton’s voice was gentle but firm, and Remus was left speechless at the offer. He opened and closed his mouth several times, taken aback.

“yes. Please.” He finally managed to spit out, spurred on by the concern on Patton’s face. Patton nodded with a small smile, closing his eyes. He felt out their rooms in the mindscape, in the downstairs, and pulled, with all his might, feeling them settle in the hallway, opposite each other, next to Virgil and Roman’s rooms, respectivly. He staggered as he finished, Roman stopping in his pacing to catch him, keep him upright.

“Okay, padre?” He asked, Patton clutching at his shirt.

“Yeah. I just forgot how much energy that takes. The last time I did it was Virgil, I don’t think I’ve ever moved so much at once. I maybe got a little ahead of myself, there.” Patton said, trying to step away from Roman. His legs buckled from under him, and Roman swept him up off his feet, leaving Patton giggling and smiling sheepishly at the bridal hold, Roman equally as flushed at his own instincts.

“Er, sorry. I’ll settle you down on the other recliner, yeah?” Roman asked, chuckling as Patton yawned, shaking his head.

“Nah. You’re cozy...” Patton murmured, tucking his head against Roman’s chest, arms wrapping around his middle in a hug as his eyes drifted shut. Roman rolled his eyes fondly, kissing the top of Patton’s head, smiling as Patton let out a soft happy noise, nuzzling closer as he sat down in the chair and tucked a blanket around Patton.

“Guess it’s naptime. Wake me up if anything happens, Lo.” Roman said softly, settling in and closing his eyes, starting to snore softly almost immediately.

Logan’s full attention turned to Remus. Despite Deceit in his lap, and Virgil koala hugging him, he was tense, eyes roving over Deceit’s face as he dabbed at him with the cloth, frowning at every tic of his eyelids, every twitch of his fingers. Occasionally he paused to smooth back Virgil’s hair, murmur softly in his ear when he made a distressed sound or squeezed him a little tighter, no doubt having a nightmare, as Remus had said to expect.

His mind turned over and over all the things Remus had said. He should have realized sooner that the others would not be friendly towards Deceit, and it was not a large jump to violence, for those sides, anyways. But that’s not what his mind was stuck on.

“Remus. You... do you believe, what you said, about yourself?” He asked, watching Remus flinch imperceptibly, sink back into his seat, brows furrowed as he looked at the floor.

“yes. It's... it’s true! I’m just the screw up, the bad part of creativity, the part Thomas didn’t want, and all I do is drive him up the wall and none of my ideas are good, and Deceit was right, to keep me locked away. Cause look what happened when he let me out. It’s like you said. It’s better... it’s better to just ignore me until I go away.” Logan softened as Remus’s voice cracked, the creative side still refusing to look anywhere near him.

“Oh, Remus. That’s not what I meant at all. And you’re forgetting what else I said. That you would help Thomas if he chose to pursue more adult themes, which we all know he is going to. Perhaps not dolphin sex or whale genetelia,” That got a snort of laughter out of Remus, and Logan adjusted his glasses, pleased, “but the topic of depression, which has already been lightly touched on, the topic of suicide, of self harm. And that is just as you pertain to Thomas. Not as you pertain to us.” Remus looked up at him, hope and puzzlement warring on his face.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, we care about you, as Remus, not just as creativity. Patton doesn’t shift the mindscape lightly, and surely you’ve noticed Roman trying harder to spend time with you, to get to know you again. I had been trying to be welcoming as well, though emotions are... hard for me to express in the way I would like. You are not an illness. You are not a disease. You are useful, you are needed, you are loved.” Logan said the last sentence with a rush, already embarased by what he’d said, but the broken, shattered look on Remus’s face stopped him. He took a breath, and crossed the few steps to where Remus sat, crouching so he was at eye level with him, holding his gaze steadily.

“Remus, you are needed. You are loved. You are wanted.” He repeated, slowly, wishing he could chase away the doubt and fear on Remus’s face.

“Truth.” Came a quiet, rasping whisper, making the both of them jump. Deceit’s eyes were open a slit, though he didn’t seem to have the strength to move, to even turn his head.

He felt awful. His limbs were like noodles, his head lolled against Remus’s knee, and he tried, but he couldn’t even shift his neck to get a better look at Remus, who was hovering over him like a mother hen. His vision was blurry, forms too bright and fuzzy at the edges, he couldn’t even open them all the way. He only knew it was Remus because of the streak of grey that stood out against the dark, and his voice. He tried to speak again, to reassure Remus, but his words caught in his throat, and he ended up coughing, his mouth desperetly searching for moisture, but it was dry, dryer than it had ever been, his tongue swollen and thick against the roof of his mouth. By the time the fit had passed, he was wheezing for air, air that burned his too dry throat and nearly sent him into another round.

But then someone was helping him to sit, and there was a glass of water to his lips, and he tried to drink slow, but it felt so good. It was like a cooling breeze in the midst of a muggy summer day, like rain over a forest fire, the sweetest, purest, relief he’d ever felt in his life, and he let out a whine as the glass was taken away.

“Easy, Deceit. Too much at once will make you sick. You can have more in a few minutes.” Logan’s voice reassured. He cracked his eyes open further, squinting against the brightness that seemed to be everywhere. “How are you feeling?”

“tired. Cool. It's... h-how did you...” He swallowed, trying to get the lump in his throat down as it all came rushing back. The heat, the fear, the surety that this was it, this the end, no one was coming, he could still feel the earth under his nails, the heat all around, the fire eating away at him-

“Dee! Deedeedeedeedee-” Then there was a bundle of warmth throwing itself at him, sending him sprawling back across the couch, and it took him a moment to recognize the splash of purple against the darkness of his jacket. Without pause, he wrapped his arm around Virgil, pulling him close, realizing the other was bound in a sling against his chest, aching dully. Virgil didn’t seem to care, he wrapped his arms around Dee’s neck, burying his head in the crook of his neck, legs wrapping around him in a koala hug, pressed so tight against him Deceit could feel every tremble and breath and heartbeat against his skin, soothing something inside him, warming him in a good way from the inside out.

“Shadow, little shadow, you found me. You did it, you found me, dearest, it’s going to be ok now.” He murmured, feeling Virgil’s tears against his shirt. “so brave, you’re so very brave, dearheart.”

“W-w-wrath had you, h-h-h-ot, saw it, can’t, c-c-can't st-st-stop-” Deceit shushed him, pulling back, pressing a kiss to Virgil’s forehead, his cheeks, finally resting his forehead against Virgil’s, all he could see those dark, violet eyes.

“I know. But I’m here, dearest, because of you, I'm here. I’ll be right here. Go back to sleep, lovely.” Deceit murmured, watching as Virgil struggled to keep his eyes open. “I’ll be right here.” He kissed Virgil’s eyelids as they fluttered shut, and Virgil let out a soft sigh against him, curling into his chest and somehow holding him tighter. Deceit nestled his head atop Virgil’s, and let his own eyes slip closed once more.

“Dee?” Remus, voice worried. He couldn’t find the strength to peel his eyes back open, not with Virgil hugging him tight, filling him with warmth.

“M’fine. Tired. Lil dizzy, yet, but m’fine.” He mumbled, slipping into darkness once more.

With those two curled up together on the couch, there was room for Logan to slip into a seat beside Remus, hesitantly, carefully, pulling him into a tentative hug. Remus froze at his touch, and he worried he’d overstepped, then Remus let out a soft wail, hugging him back, letting his stress and worry and fear drain out of him in his shaky, quiet sobs.

“You meant it. You meant it.” Remus said breathlessly, wiping away tears and snot on his sleeve. Logan frowned smally.

“I did. I think it is safe to say Deceit will be alright. He has clearly recovered from the heat, if not the exhaustion. Meaning you should get some sleep, as well.” Remus looked like he wanted to protest for a moment, before slumping into Logan’s arms with a sigh.

“Alright. Only for you, Lolo.” He closed his eyes and started snoring just as fast as Roman had. Logan chuckled, taking off his glasses and setting them on the coffee table, before settling back in his seat. Some sleep would be good for him.

Virgil woke first, slowly, sleep trying to tug him back into its warm embrace. He was still tired, no, exhausted. It reached to his bones, the weight trying to tug him back down, and blearily he thought he hadn’t felt like this since-

His eyes shot open, breath speeding for a moment as he saw only black, before he felt the warm exhale of breath against his hair, and realized he was being held tight, entwined with another side. Shifting, he felt everything inside him loosen as he saw that half-scaled face, as he felt Dee’s heart beating, his breath coming in and out, his skin still looked red and flaky, but far less angry than the day before. As he watched, Deceit let out a soft groan, his own eyes slowly flicking open, resting on Virgil’s, a soft smile quirking his lips.

“Hi.” Was the tired word that escaped his lips, but it was enough, because Virgil was hugging him again, so tight he could barely breath for a moment, before his hold loosened and he pulled back, a fierce look on his face.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again, Dee. Don’t... don’t scare me like that.” He muttered furiously. Deceit sighed, shifting to sit up, Virgil following and settling beside him on the couch. Deceit ran a hand through his hair, looking around the room, surprised to see Logan curled up with Remus in his arms, less surprised that Roman and Patton were in the same position on the recliner.

“Oh yes, because I very much wanted to get trapped in a container like I was some kind of pet and then boiled to death from the inside out. That was exactly my intent.” He replied, unable to help the sarcasm that slipped into his voice. He smiled as Virgil let out a breathy laugh, resting his head on Dee’s shoulder.

“Okay, fair. You’re just lucky Remus was around.” Deceit frowned, turning to look at Virgil.

“How are you doing, dearest?” Virgil let out a breath, fidgeting with his hoodie sleeves.

“Alright. Still... worn down. Remus helped. God knows I wasn’t making sense, but he calmed me enough I could focus, I could see... I was scared...” Virgil said softly, so softly, and Deceit reached out, tucking Virgil’s bangs back, stroking his cheek.

“I know. But you did such a good job, shadow, little shadow.” Virgil rolled his eyes, but shoved his head against Deceit’s hand much like a cat demanding pets. He laughed, and started massaging Virgil’s scalp, the action soothing both him and Virgil, it had been so long since he’d had this much contact with anyone, he realized.

“Mhph. Virg? You up?” Roman grumbled, stretching and yawning hugely as he blinked open his eyes. Deceit froze, flinching back, expecting Roman to shriek or summon his sword, and he was too tired to deal with his theatrics and put up his usual façade. Instead, Roman’s eyes widened, and he gently shook Patton.

“Pat! He’s awake!” Instantly, Patton was on his feet, crouching before Deceit.

“Oh, goodness, I’m so glad you’re up. Logan said you’d be fine and just needed to sleep, but you had me scared, kiddo. Um, we have some lotion and aloe here, for you, but I don’t know if you use something else on your scales that might help, they’re pretty bad, too. Do you want something to eat? Oh, and I should get you something to drink right away, you’re still really dehydrated, water? Or would juice be better, it has more sugar and stuff?” Patton rambled.

‘Patton, you’re crowding him. Juice would be preferable, and something simple, toast and scrambled eggs, if that’s acceptable?” Logan asked, looking to Deceit, who nodded.

“Yeah. Sounds... fine. I have some oil, in my room, Remus knows where.” He said softly, realizing Remus was awake and staring at him as if he hadn’t seen him in years. Abruptly, Deceit realized his normal outfit was gone, leaving his legs and arms exposed, and he shivered.

“We changed you out of your clothes yesterday, to aid in your cool down. Your temperature is sufficiently lowered now, if you wish to change back. We also have moved your and Remus’s rooms up here, with Remus’s permission.”

“You don’t have to do that.” He answered softly. Logan cocked his head.

“But we have. What I said to Remus applies to you as well, Deceit. We should have worked to make that clearer, sooner. Please, let us help.” Deceit blinked slowly, before nodding, settling back on the couch.

“Ok.” He snapped his fingers, and his outfit changed into soft fleece pajamas, patterned with dark scales. It felt good against his sensitive skin. Remus popped back up, a bottle in his hand, which he passed to Deceit.

“Let me help. I can reach the ones on your back.” Virgil said, gently taking the oil from him, waiting for a reply. Shakily, Deceit nodded, feeling his aching muscles start to relax as Virgil carefully rubbed his back. He realized Remus still hadn’t said anything, an unusual occurance, and met his gaze, tilting his head in a silent question.

Remus let out a breathy laugh, sitting on the couch cross legged before Deceit, taking both of Dee’s hands in his, simply staring at his face as if he couldn’t get enough of it, searching it for something, though Dee couldn’t pinpoint what.

“Ree?” He asked, gently, and Remus squeezed his hands.

“What if I hadn’t noticed you were missing? What if they distracted me enough I didn’t come after you? What if I didn’t feel your panic? What if Virgil hadn’t been able to see? What if no one realized what was happening until it was too late? What if we found you and you’d shriveled up like a prune, crumbling to dust before our eyes? What if we watched your heart slow and stop and your breathing stutter out and your eyes close and they never, never opened up again? What if-” Deceit gently extricated one of his hands from Remus’s, and guided it to his chest, over his heart. “I can’t stop, can’t stop, it’s so loud...” He muttered, Dee rubbing circles against his knuckles.

“I know, love. But you can feel that, right? Tell me what that is.” He asked softly, earnestly.

“You’re heart.” Came the mumbled response.

“Yes. And what is it doing?” Remus’s eyes flicked to his for just a moment, before looking away again, though he could see the thoughts starting to slow, his eyes starting to clear.

“Beating.”

“Good. Now, what about this?” He asked, moving Remus’s hand so it was over his diaphram. “What is that?” He could see the small smile starting to grow on Remus’s face.

“You breathing.” He murmured. Deceit smiled.

“Indeed. Do you know why, my heart is still beating, I am still breathing?” Remus didn’t respond, but he was looking at Deceit now, meeting his affectionate gaze. “Because you did notice I was gone, you did feel my panic, you did find Virgil, you did focus him enough he could see, you did find me in time, you did get me help and you did make sure I was alright. That’s what matters. Can you remember that for me, Ree? Can you focus on that?” Remus’s smile was bright as he nodded, tears in his eyes as he wrapped his arms around Deceit, who laughed as Virgil was pulled into the hug by Remus’s tentacles, grumbling but making no move to escape the hold.

He could hear Patton in the kitchen, the smell of eggs starting to waft through the room. He could hear Roman talking softly with Logan, who was already flipping through whatever book he was reading, trying to find the page he’d been on. And he could feel the warmth from his two best friends surrounding him, filling him with a soft joy he hadn’t felt in far too long.

And he wondered if nearly dying was maybe the best thing that had ever happened to him

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