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levi-my-beloved · 3 years

Text

Birds of a Feather

Chapter 5

Pairings: Canon!Levi x F!Reader

Content Warnings: Violence, open wound (minor), smut, oral (m and f receiving), thigh riding, fingering, unprotected sex, masturbation (m), virgin!Levi, virgin!reader, mutual virginity loss, tooth rotting fluff, gets a little angtsy towards the end.

Word Count: 13.2K

Summary: You were the most notorious criminal in The Underground City. With your organisation of highly skilled professionals, only one man could take you down. He also happened to be Humanity’s Strongest... and your ex.

Previous Chapter

First Chapter

Series Masterlist

A/N: oh my god picking out those words and selecting them individually to bolden them cuz tumblr doesn’t know how to copy and paste correctly was TEDIOUS. it gives the effect i wanted but jfc tumblr learn how to copy and paste bold and italics jeez. this was definitely the most fun chapter, as you shall see. this was supposed to contain more than just smut but i got super carried away and it would have been like, 22K if i paired it with the next one, so the next chapter will take a little longer, but i’ll make a post about that separately after this one. hope you all enjoy!

18+ MINORS DNI

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

“Levi?! You fucking idiot, you could have died!” it was the last thing you’d expected to come back to after a few days away. After spending some time with the strange man who took you in three years ago, Viper, he called himself, you were excited to come back to the small house you had with your best, and possibly only, friend outside The Nest.

What you weren’t expecting was to find him, propped up against the small wooden table in the centre of the room, shirtless, slowly bleeding out through his shoulder. You didn’t know where the other two were, and in fact, that was your first question.

“Where the hell are Isobel and Farlan, and why the fuck haven’t they sorted you out?” you stormed across the room, setting your bag down on one of the kitchen chairs before assessing his injury.

“First of all… I didn’t die. Second of all… shit… they’re out buying ODM parts after Isa’s shitty landing the other day, and th-fuck-thirdly, this only happened today. They’d just left when I got back,” Levi grit his teeth as you gently prodded the wound. Shit this fucking hurt. It was a stab wound from a shitty bartender in a shitty part of town who decided he didn’t like Levi’s shitty attitude. Honestly, looking back…

He couldn’t blame him.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair.

“You’re a fucking idiot,”

“You’ve said that already,”

“This isn’t funny, Levi,” you huffed, turning to rifle through the bag you’d haphazardly dumped on the chair. You’d never been so thankful for Viper’s weird yet wonderful survival lessons. Over the last three days, he’d taught you basic medical training. You had no idea how the fuck he knew how to apply a tourniquet or sew wounds, but you never questioned the man. He reminded you of your father in some ways.

Just a little more violent.

“Stay still, it needs to be cleaned,” you brought out a small bottle of whiskey, a gift from one of Viper’s associates. His “Shadows”, or something.

Levi narrowed his eyes as you began taking out various pieces of equipment, and couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows at the expensive looking bottle.

“Where the fuck did you get these things, (Y/N)?” he breathed, glancing between the medical supplies and your face. Levi hated how he didn’t know what you did. He didn’t know where you went for days, and it worried him when you didn’t return when you said you would. He was always worried about you. Instantly missing the warmth of your smile as soon as you left.

“That’s not important right now. I need you to hold still, this is going to hurt,” his face heated slightly as you searched him, that apologetic guilt in your expression made him want to hold you and tell you everything was okay.

But he wouldn’t.

Because you two were friends.

And had been for years.

Despite his budding feelings, he would never cross that line with you.

Unless you wanted to, of course…

“It’s fine. Do what you gotta do,” he responded flatly, choosing instead to find the wooden skirting board incredibly interesting to look at. Much more interesting than your face.

He couldn’t stop the pained hiss that escaped his mouth as the piercing sting of alcohol in a fresh wound clouded his mind for a moment, fist clenching as his eyes screwed shut.

“I’msorryI’msorryI’msorry,” you muttered under your breath, hating every second of pain you were putting him through. But you had to clean the wound, and you had nothing else to use. You silently thanked the man called Wolf for the burning liquor, not expecting to use it in quite a way. Screwing the lid back on the amber bottle, you set it to one side, gently dabbing the torn flesh with a cotton bud.

“Levi, this is going to need stitches. Shit, what were you stabbed with, a fucking sword?” This was one of the things he loved most about you. No matter how dire or stressful the situation, you could always crack a joke, even whilst keeping a straight face.

“Kitchen knife. Pretty standard for the tavern–”

“THAT MOTHERFUCKER AGAIN?” yeah, this wasn’t the first time Levi had been met with problems from that place.

“Yeah, him. Got me good this time,” Levi almost laughed at your look of subdued rage. He knew how much you hated that owner. But that amusement was quelled when your rage was replaced with something he couldn’t quite decipher.

He let the silence drag on as you retrieved a small needle and thread, not even questioning where you learnt how to do this.

“Sorry, this will hurt again, but not as much,” you warned him, your tone having dropped several notches to something almost melancholic. Angling the needle next to the tender flesh, you waited for his nod until you continued, trying to concentrate throughout the whirling guilt.

He’d gotten himself hurt. Again.

And you weren’t there for him.

Again.

“I’m sorry, Levi,” you whispered, pulling the thread through the wound, slowly closing the gaping tear.

“‘S’fine, I didn’t even feel it,”

“N-no, not that. I’m sorry I wasn’t here. Again,” this was the thing he hated most about you. You had a habit of blaming yourself for things you couldn’t control. You always felt like you had to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, and you always felt like you had to do it alone. It always took Levi some time and a long, long conversation to convince you that you weren’t alone.

“(Y/N), stop,” you immediately pulled back, scared you may have hurt him.

“Sorry! I didn’t realise it was hurting, i’ll try–”

“No. Stop,” he took both your hands in his own, making you raise your eyes to him. “You know thinking like that is pointless because I always manage to get it through your thick skull that I am in fact, not your responsibility, okay? It’s my job to get stabbed, to get shot and have random glass bottles thrown at me. It’s what happens when you steal a bunch of shit and sell it on. So quit thinking like you have to look after me. It should be the other way around,”

“Why? Because you’re a man?” your small, mischievous grin told him he managed to get his message across.

“No, brat. Not because I’m a man,” he stopped that sentence there, for he feared if he’d continued, he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from confessing how hard he’d fallen for you over the last eight years.

You took his continued silence as a sign that the conversation was over. He had slightly lessened the guilt constricting your heart as you returned to stitching up the gash. It would definitely leave a scar, since you weren’t exactly adept at using a needle and thread yet, but at least he wouldn't bleed out now.

Finishing the final stitch, you cut the thread with a small pocket knife, tossing the blade on the table whilst you reached for the small roll of bandages. You think Viper would be proud of your work.

“This is about as sterile as we’ll find down here,” you comment absentmindedly, stretching out the bandage and applying it over his shoulder and across chest to secure it. You tried to ignore the subtle blush dusting your cheeks as his hard muscle flexed beneath your touch. You tried to ignore the almost mouth watering sight of his shirtless body when you first entered the room. Fuck, you’d tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach when he took your hands. Tried to ignore how honest he looked.

You tried to ignore how much you’d fallen in love with him.

But Levi was nothing if not observant. He saw the gentle rose petals blooming across your face, smirking slightly to himself at your reaction. Maybe…

Just maybe…

You two could cross that line.

He found himself missing your presence so close to him when you pulled back to admire your work.

“There. All done. Don’t move it too much because if you pull those stitches, I will hold a knife to your throat and you will apologise,” Levi rolled his eyes at your empty threats, internally chuckling at how over dramatic you could be sometimes. “Oh, and rub this salve into it if it starts to hurt. It’s a herbal recipe, supposed to help numb pain,” you left the small tin tub on the table whilst you continued to repack your bag of the supplies Viper had gifted you.

Levi’s eyes followed your movements as you effortlessly reached for the second roll of untouched bandages on the table. It was such a simple movement, but the way your loose shirt untucked from your leather pants, showing just a teasing amount of skin, had him readjusting how he was sitting. Shit you were beautiful. Since you’d both been managing to gain somewhat of an income, you’d been able to afford more food. He marvelled in the way you’d filled out a bit, your own lithe frame rippling with muscle. Granted, you were still dangerously skinny, but that was to be expected down here.

Packing away the final set of stitches, you collapsed onto a chair, once again running a hand through your hair before cringing at the repeated action. You really needed to stop doing that, or your hair would go greasy.

Looking at the small fireplace kettle, you returned your gaze to Levi, who you noticed was still shirtless, and didn’t seem to have any interest in covering up anytime soon. You felt your face heat up for a second, before distracting yourself with something else.

“Tea? I feel like you could do with one,” you grinned playfully, already knowing he would say yes and rising from your seat.

Until you were forcefully shoved back down.

“I’ll get it. You’ve done more than enough,” Levi felt bad expecting you to make him tea as well, but you just didn’t know when to quit. Removing his hand from your shoulder, you stood up, now close enough to either kill him;

Or kiss him.

“Not happening. You almost bled out a few moments ago. I’m not letting you do anything, shortstuff,” you raised an eyebrow, as if daring him to challenge you. Which of course, he did. But not without smirking at the ironic nickname.

“I damaged my shoulder, brat. I’m not crippled. I can make tea for fuck sakes,” there was never really any malice when the two of you argued like this. It was a more playful back and forth.

It was only when the breath of your laugh reached his face did he realise how close you were and the two of you fell into a strangely comfortable silence, subconsciously admiring one another. Only, his view of your face was slightly obstructed.

Levi hesitantly brushed a strand of hair back behind your ear, his hand hovering by the side of your neck. You could see nothing but admiration in his steely, maelstrom hues. Admiration, and something else you were sure you were reciprocating in your own gaze.

It was only then it occured to you.

And you didn’t know how’d you’d been so stupid to miss it.

Levi loved you.

Just as much as you loved him.

“I was worried about you today,” Levi murmured, prying apart the silence as his hand now rested comfortably on the side of your neck. He hadn’t missed what he’d seen in your eyes. A glassy reflection of his own feelings.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to come back late. I just got caught up in some things,” your whisper carried so much tension he was tempted to grab the knife from the table and attempt to slice the air.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he opted to rest his other hand on your waist, gently pulling you closer to his body.

“Will you ever tell me where you disappear off to?” The question held no weight. He knew that if you wanted to tell him, you would. He also knew that you needed your privacy sometimes, and this was just one of those things you didn’t talk about. He just hated how his mind would race when you didn’t come back.

Your heart was almost beating out of your chest, pulse quickening to something you didn’t think possible as the hand on your waist caused goosebumps to prickle your skin. You learnt into his touch as his palm came up to cup your face, thumb tracing the apple of your cheek.

“One day, maybe,” you replied, your hand mimicking his own as you reached up slightly to smooth over his eyebrow, he in return mirrored your response, leaning into your touch. You stayed like this for what felt like years, until he spoke up again with a question that let loose all the caged butterflies in your stomach.

“(Y/N)... can I kiss you?”

Your lips parted as you let out a breath, unable to contain your smile of pure adoration as you nodded a little shyly.

“Yes,” Levi wasted no time. As soon as you managed to form a response, his lips were on yours. You gasped slightly against his mouth, arms moving on their own to wrap around the back of his neck and hold him close.

The hand on your waist extended to embrace your lower back as your lips moulded against one another.

Fuck, he’d dreamt of this moment for so long. And it was so much better than he ever imagined. Levi elicited a breathy moan as you ran your tongue along his bottom lip, silently asking for permission to explore his mouth. Something he was all too eager to accept, eyes rolling as he felt your slick muscle brush against his.

Your hands travelled to thread through his hair as you subtly pushed him back to the chair he’d stood from. He seemed to get the hint, bringing you down with him as he sat, pulling you to straddle his lap.

You drew circles with your nails in his undercut, once again drawing another delightful, gravelly groan from his throat, lips still hungrily devouring his.

It was only until you felt his hardening manhood grind against your slickening folds did a thought occur to you, and you had no choice but to pull back.

“Shit, what about Isobel and Farlan?” it wasn’t a question he put much thought into answering, especially when you were scratching his undercut like that.

“Won’t be back for a few hours,” he mumbled, before reclaiming your mouth in an ever deepening kiss. You whimpered softly as he began to roam your body with his hands, grasping at your waist as you started to rock gently against his tented crotch, relishing the noises he made.

“Ah– (Y/N), sh-shit,” you peppered featherlight kisses along his jawline, stopping briefly to suck his earlobe into your mouth, his soft gasp only fueling your arousal.

His pants grew to whines as you moved down his neck, suckling and biting where you saw fit, leaving purple blemishes across his soft skin. His lengthy moan set your skin ablaze when you found his pulse point, licking a stripe up his neck before sucking on the sensitive spot.

By now, Levi was painfully hard. Wanting nothing more than to free his aching cock from it’s cloth prison. But you were the one in charge here, and he was more than happy to continue at your pace.

As long as you didn’t take too long.

He started thumbing the buttons on your shirt free, dragging it off your shoulders as you continued to leave marks along his collarbones. The clothing was quickly discarded, along with the bralet one of Viper’s escorts gifted you. Levi didn’t have time to admire your breasts within the delicate lace before it was thrown to the floor along with your shirt.

Pride swelled in Levi’s chest as you mewled against his skin, his hands gently kneading your now exposed mounds. He loved how your nipples instantly pebbled beneath his touch, rolling the sensitive nub between his thumb and forefinger, smirking at your hisses.

“Fuck, Levi– shit that feels good,” your praise only made him harder as you sat up, wanting to feel his mouth against yours again. But Levi had other plans.

As soon as you raised your head from the crook of his neck, Levi ducked down and sucked one of your nipples into his mouth. You cried out, back arching into his touch, hips bucking involuntarily. Levi groaned against your breast, the vibrations only adding to the sensation.

Your hands once again found his hair, gently encouraging him to keep going, his own hand rolling your other bud.

Levi switched sides, showing your neglected mound the same kind of treatment, and you couldn’t stop the stream of breathy gasps and desperate whimpers as he showered your breasts in physical praise, making a mental note of every reaction you made to his touch.

Finally you grew impatient, wanting to show him as much love as he was showing you. Your hands withdrew from his hair and you almost laughed at his disappointed huff around your pebbled nipple.

“Don’t worry, I think you’ll like this more,” your voice wasn’t one you recognised. It was lower, breathier. You’d never heard yourself sound like this before.

But what almost broke your resolve was the sound of his voice, showing you just how much your actions had affected him.

“Oh? But I was rather enjoying myself. I think i’ll just continue doing– oh fuck,” Levi threw his head back, eyes screwed shut in pleasure as you palmed his length through his pants. Shit, your mouth watered at the feel of him. Harder than steel and girthy. You briefly wondered how he tasted, that particular spark fueling your next movements.

Slowly sliding from his lap, you left a wet trail of kisses down his chest, careful to avoid the wound in his shoulder. Your lips nipped at each of his abs individually before continuing down to the prominent V in his naval, tongue caressing the small dips directing you down to your goal, Levi encouraging you every step of the way with his sharp breaths and small groans.

Pushing apart his knees, you settled in between his thighs, grinning slyly as he looked down at you, wide eyed. His expression settled for a moment, hand coming to rest against the side of your face.

“(Y/N), you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I’m more than happy with how far we’ve gone today. I don’t want to force you into doing anything with me if you’re not ready,” your heart almost fell to pieces at the sound of his concerned, yet still gravelly voice. Your coy smile softened to something so genuine and loving, Levi thought he had died.

“Trust me, I want to do this. I’ve wanted to do this for so long, Levi,” you gently caressed his thighs, reassuring him that what you were doing, and what you were about to do, was something you’d longed for.

Levi’s smile was nothing short of angelic. He gently stroked your hair, and despite the heat of the moment, he still managed to make you feel so loved.

“Alright, but if you want to stop at any point, please tell me. I don’t want to make you feel obligated to carry on just because of me, okay?” you nodded happily at his words, giving his leg a small squeeze.

“I promise. Now shut up and let me suck your dick,” Levi laughed breathlessly, tilting up your chin as he leant down to capture your lips in a swift, affectionate kiss.

“You’re filthy,”

“Your fault,” you grinned, subtly fiddling with his belt.

“How is any of this my-ah fuck,” Levi cut himself off as he felt your hand gently grind on his length over his pants, the friction causing him to elicit the most gorgeous whimpers. You could definitely get addicted to the sounds he made.

“Nngh– shit, shitshitshit (Y/N) I– a-ah,” Levi stopped trying to form words as you slowly pulled down the offending clothing, leaving him in just his shorts, cock tenting painfully. You helped him kick his pants from his legs, joining the pile of clothes you’d made as you kept palming his dick. Neither of you had done anything like this before, both being too busy to engage in any sexual activity, but you felt like you already knew what to do. Acting off instinct, you adored his little shiver as you finally freed his length, your own folds slickening at the sight of his leaking manhood.

“Shit Levi, you’re gorgeous,” the compliment slipped out before you could rein it in, Levi’s cheeks heating slightly as your words reached his ears.

“Th-thank you,”

Your eyes took immediate interest in a rather prominent vein pulsing along the underside of his cock, and once again you couldn’t help but wonder how he tasted.

Levi couldn’t think straight. He’d touched himself before, jerking himself off when his hormones deemed it necessary, but he’d never felt anything like this. And when you took a hold of his length, he felt as if every nerve in his body had set alight. His eyes screwed shut instinctively, unable to suppress the breathy moan of ecstasy.

You started to slowly stroke up and down tentatively, watching the different expressions he made. You never thought he could look so needy, and yet here he was, mouth hanging open, brows knitted, eyes closed, a gentle flush dusting his cheeks. You smiled slightly at his breathless pants, taking note of how his breath hitched when you circled his leaking tip with your thumb, smearing his precum across his over his pulsing cock.

His hips bucked unapologetically, back arching into your touch as you squeezed him experimentally.

“Fuck…! Fucking— HAH, a-aah, oh my god… (Y/N), what’re you— FUCK… fuck, ‘feels so— nngh, feelssogood,” Levi’s words slurred as his head lolled back, sweat starting to bead on his brow. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, switching between gripping the table next to him and hovering around your head.

You hadn’t even taken him in your mouth yet, and he was already reacting so well to your touch. You watched him physically relax as you let him go, giving him some time to recover before you’d take it further.

“'M’gonna take you in my mouth, okay? Tell me if it’s too much or if you want me to slow down,” you rested your head against his inner thigh, admiring his fucked out expression as he nodded, his bangs sticking to the slick of his forehead. You could stare at him like this for hours, committing every part of his face to memory. But the temptation to show him how good you could make him feel was far too great.

Leaning forward, you gripped around the length of his cock, delivering a few kitten licks to the tip, relishing in the responsive jolt of his sensitive body. Shit you were wet, it was taking all of your willpower not to reach down and pleasure yourself. You knew your matching underwear was likely ruined, quickly lamenting the loss of such an expensive gift, but that thought was quickly extinguished as you ran your tongue along that delicious looking vein you’d clocked earlier.

“SHIT, oh fuck, ohfuckohfuckohfuck, (Y/N)... shit, (Y/NNNNN),” just as you thought your own arousal couldn’t grow any further, he whined your name and you almost came there and then. Smirking against his dick, you leant forward just a little more, and engulfed his tip in your mouth, slowly taking more of him.

Levi’s hips bucked into your warmth, unable to stop himself as his brain was completely consumed by the sheer, mind-shattering pleasure. He’d decided this was nothing like getting himself off. This was something completely different. This was on a whole other level.

When you had taken as much as you could of his length in your mouth, you started to bob up and down, hollowing your cheeks as you pulled back to suck on his tip, before engulfing him again.

You could have sworn he almost screamed.

“Aaa-ah, you’re… you’re so– nngh, so good at this, HAH-aah, w-wait, fuck, s-slow down. ‘M gonna’– AH, ‘m gonna’ cum,” you did as he asked, taking your mouth of his raging length, gently caressing the base with your thumb as you waited for his laboured breaths to calm.

“Take your time, baby. Let me know when you’re ready,” even in his foggy, aroused state, he was still able to squint down at you with a brow raised at the new pet name. He couldn’t say he didn’t like it though, looking at your swollen, shining lips slick with your saliva and his pearly essence.

“Fuck (Y/N), you’re fucking stunning, look at you,” Levi tenderly held the side of your face, thumb smoothing over your eyebrow as he regarded you with such fondness. He hissed as you jerked his length in retaliation.

“Don’t be so cute, it’s not allowed whilst I’m sucking you off,”

“Technically you weren’t, you were waiting for me,”

“Oh is that how you want to do this?” you eyed him mischievously, and before Levi could even respond, you took his entire, swollen length down your throat, gagging a little at the intrusion before slowly getting used to him.

Whatever Levi was about to say died on his tongue as the tip of his cock brushed the back of your throat. He had no choice but to surrender to the pleasure threatening to shatter his mind, his mouth falling open as you swallowed around his sensitive tip.

“Shit…! Oh fuck, oh fuck, (Y/N)– nngh, haaah, ah, fuck, don’t stop. Don’t… don’t stop,” Levi panted, only just able to form cohesive words as you continue to take him down your tight, warm throat. He sandwiched his bottom lip between his teeth, biting almost hard enough to draw blood.

Tears started to line your lashes as you suppress your gag reflex, swirling your tongue along the underside of his length. Your eyes rolled back as his hands found your hair, not to push you onto him, but just so he didn’t completely lose himself in the pleasure.

The vibrations in the back of your throat as you moaned only heightened the sensation, and Levi wasn’t able to take much more.

“Hhhh, (Y-Y/N), m-move away, i’m -shit- i’m gonna cum, i’m gonna fucking cum!” but you didn’t move, instead opting to moan more wantanly, lapping at his cock and swallowing him down your throat, your hands coming up to rub and cup his rapidly tightening balls. His thighs began to shake as he came undone, back arching completely off the chair. His head was thrown back as you watched his Adam's apple bob through wet lashes.

“Ah, hnng– a-AH, FUCK (Y/NNN)!!” Levi came with a broken, desperate cry of your name on his lips, his salty seed shooting down your throat. His hands tightened in your hair, clinging on for dear life as you milked him through his orgasm, sucking him dry.

It wasn’t until he’d completely emptied himself into your mouth did he collapse back on the chair, breathing as if he’d just run a marathon.

You released him from your mouth with a pop, tenderly kissing his tip clean before rising to check the state of your partner.

“Levi?” you giggled, moving to carefully straddle his lap so you could take his face in your hands. He looked completely spent, head heavy as he lazily grasped your waist. “You alright?” you thought your question fell on deaf ears, until he cracked an eye open.

“Honestly? I don’t know. I think you broke me,” you laughed at his tired, satisfied smile, brushing his sweat slickened locks from his forehead to lean against him.

“Was that okay?” you asked, searching his face for an answer. The grin he gave sent butterflies to your stomach and heat to your already throbbing core.

“Are you serious? Yes, that was okay. That was more than okay. It was incredible,” he gently wiped away any salty tears from below your lash line. “You’re incredible,” Levi leant up to capture your lips in a tender, loving kiss. It didn’t quite have the same heat as earlier, it felt more fueled with adoring gratitude. You pulled back a fraction.

“Who knew you could be so vocal?” you teased with a lopsided smirk, earning yourself a small, playful nip on your lower lip followed by a low, breathy laugh rumbling from his chest.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up brat. Not like I won’t get you back,” you hadn’t noticed his hand had trailed down to the crease in your thighs until a bolt of pleasure shocked your system as he slowly pressed his thumb to your swollen clit. “Speaking of which…” –he whispered, dark eyes searching your own– “Would you mind if I repay the favour?” Levi didn’t give you time to respond before his head ducked down below your chin, licking a long, deliberate stripe up the column of your throat. He smiled against your skin as you began to rock your hips against his hand, moaning and gasping with each movement.

“Mmn, Levi,” you breathed his name like a secret, shivering as he decorated your neck and collarbones with red and purple blossoms, leaving his mark on you.

“I liked the sounds you made when I did this,” Levi’s hand left a trail of goosebumps as he travelled from your waist, up you naval to your breasts, the pads of his fingers rolling the pebbled buds. Your needy cry caused his fingers to grind harder on your clothed clit, increasing the speed as you threw your head back, the pleasure consuming you.

“Fuck…! Levi… ‘need more… ple-HAAH, please,” you whined, lamenting the loss of friction as he guided you to stand. Your confusion was short lived when he pulled you back down to straddle one of his thighs, hands gripping your waist and encouraging you to drag your hips against him in a steady rhythm. Levi snickered against your neck as you gripped his shoulders, grinding wantanly against his muscular leg.

“Feel good?” he asked, brushing your hair back behind your ears as you nodded eagerly, too busy whimpering to form words. He could feel your slick soak through the leather of your pants before making the executive decision that you were wearing far too many clothes for his liking.

Levi deftly unclasped the front of your belt, chuckling as you refused to stop chasing your high long enough for him to pull them down.

“(Y/N), you’re gonna need to move,” his husky voice sent shivers down your spine, heightening the blissful sensation of your knot rubbing against his thigh.

“Nngh– can’t… a-aah! Feels… feels too g-good,” you were so close. That coil in your lower stomach tightening and you knew any moment, with just the right movement, it would snap and you would release all over his thigh.

Or at least, it would have done, had his strong hands not stilled your hips.

“L-Levi?! What the fuck? I was right there,” you pouted as he gently lifted you from his lap, tugging down your pants.

You felt a flair of pride as his jaw dropped at your choice of underwear, the deep red, intricately laced material covering only the bare minimum, accentuating the curve of your hips and the lean muscle of your legs.

If only you’d kept the bralet on. You’d give anything to see his expression when you rocked the set together.

“Fuck…” he breathed, standing from the chair and reaching for you as you kicked the pants from your legs. You smirked, seeing his length hardening once again.

“Hmm, like what you see?” you stepped back like a sly vixen, motioning him to come closer with a provocative finger. You saw his dick twitch in response.

“I’m going to fucking devour you,” your breath hitched in your throat as he caged you against the wall with his arms, his mouth hovering by your ear, soft whisper tickling your neck before it was replaced with his tongue sucking against your pulse point. You arched into his touch, smiling as he tried unsuccessfully to repress the small groan when your hips ground against his cock, your own clothed sex throbbing at the touch.

You’d completely forgotten about his hands until they travelled round to cup your ass, squeezing and moulding the cheeks in his palms. Your gasp spurred him on, lifting you so you could wrap your legs around his waist, both moaning as you came ever closer to each other.

Levi held you against the wall, still nipping and biting at the flesh on your neck, sucking sweet bruises into the skin. Hoisting you up with one forearm, he let the other skirt between you, the pads of his fingers finding a home against your damp folds.

“Shit you’re soaked. You’ve completely ruined these, (Y/N),” he teased, gently rubbing your clit not nearly enough for you to find your high, but enough to coerce the most delicious moans from your throat.

“Mmn, worth it,” you grinned, head tilted upwards as he attacked the hollow of your throat with his mouth. His laugh fluttered against your neck, your hands finding purchase in his inky locks.

“C’mere you,” Levi’s playful tone went straight to your heart as he held you against him, carrying you from the wall. His arms braced under your ass as you leaned down to capture his mouth, lips moving in sync against each other.

You hadn’t noticed he’d carried you into his room until you both fell amongst the bed covers, his body covering yours.

You lay there, panting, looking up into those eyes you’d come to adore. The smile so rare you sometimes didn’t think he even could. You certainly didn’t think it would be so beautiful. Your hand came up to cup his face, chest warming as he nuzzled into the touch.

“Hey,” he breathed, kissing the heel of your palm.

“Hey,” you replied with a soft laugh.

“Bye,” you looked at him, your expression puzzled at the response.

“Wha– FUCK!” your hips arched as his fingers once again dipped between your thighs, sandwiching and rubbing your clit between his thumb and forefinger, his head trailing kisses down your front, pausing briefly to pay attention to your breasts before continuing south.

His fingers hooked over your waistband and Levi looked up at you for permission as he settled between your thighs. You smiled at his continued show of chivalry, nodded in confirmation before the cool air caressed your swollen pussy.

Levi must have forgotten how to breathe. That must be why he felt so lightheaded. Why his heart was beating so hard. Why his mind was reeling.

“God, look at you (Y/N), you’re perfect,” if you weren’t so goddamn aroused, you might have shed a tear at the compliment. You’d never had anyone say anything like that to you before. You’d never had anyone call you stunning, or pretty, or perfect. He made you feel so special.

And so fucking good.

Smirking slightly to himself, Levi turned to your inner thigh, biting gently at the supple, soft muscle and relishing how you squirmed eagerly beneath his touch. He was teasing you, and you were growing rather impatient.

But he couldn’t help it. He’d dreamt of this for so long he wanted to savour the moment. Wanted to remind himself that this wasn't a dream. He’d loved you for so long, and he couldn’t even fathom the elation now he knows that you love him back. The sweet scent of your dripping folds pulled him back to reality, like a siren beckoning him to a watery death, he let your essence pull him in, before the tip of his nose rested on the pearl of your clit.

His hands dragged up your thighs, gently kneading the sensitive flesh. He stayed like that for what felt like far too long, until everything happened at once. Throwing your legs over his shoulder, Levi’s tongue lapped a strong, solid line through your centre, sending your mind reeling.

“Aaaah…! Yes, Levi, Levi…!” Levi’s mind could have been a crime investigation blackboard. Making a mental note of every single reaction you were making. The buck of your hips when he kisses your folds. The arch of your back when he suckles on your clit. The hitch in your breath as his fingers came up to slowly tease your soaking entrance. Levi pulled back slightly, peering up at you and honestly, you almost lost control at the sight of him.

His mouth and chin dripping with your juices, pupils blown with pure, hungry desire. You parted your lips to comment on the delightful sight, but were cut off by the rogue moan he dragged from your throat, his fingers gently rubbing your clit, slowly travelling further south until you felt them circling your aching hole. Nerves gently bubbled through your stomach. You’d heard what the prostitutes and escorts said about a woman’s first time. You knew it was going to hurt, if the two of you went that far tonight. You knew it wasn’t going to be amazing the first time.

Levi also seemed to know.

“Hey, I’m not expecting anything after this, okay? I just want to pay you back for earlier, and make you feel… well, good. We can stop if you want,” you whined slightly at the loss of friction against your sensitive bud, but you couldn’t deny the reassurance calming your suddenly beating heart.

“Stop now and I’ll never give you head again,” you grinned, but he could see the sincerity and gratitude behind your mischievous eyes. You wanted this, and he was more than happy to provide.

“Order received,” he chuckled, before returning his mouth to your waiting pussy.

“Fuck, yes…! Yesyesyesyes HAA-AH, L-Levi…! Right there, fuck, fuck! Yes, right there,” Levi smirked as you whined his name, realising he’d never heard a sweeter sound.

Maybe the bubble of your laughter at a close second.

That same scandalous finger still rubbing patterns into your now throbbing clit, bringing you closer to your high. His other hand once again returning to your wanton hole, gently massaging your folds as his tongue darted into your entrance, dragging a long needy moan from your mouth.

Levi gently eased his finger into your waiting heat, his eyes rolling at how tight you were. He loosened a groan as he ground his now seeping length into the sheets below, the vibrations from his mouth almost enough to send you over the edge if you weren’t clenching at the strange intrusion.

As if sensing your slight discomfort, Levi latched onto the hood of your clit and sucked, relishing in the desperate cry of his name as the pad of his fingertip started rubbing against your walls.

The clench of discomfort soon turned to a flutter of pleasure as you adapted to having someone touch you so intimately. You started to understand why some women enjoy this, and more so when Levi twisted his wrist, hooking his fingers up and brushing against that spongy spot hidden deep within your folds almost by accident. He was worried he’d hurt you, your reaction was so sudden, but your loose string of breathless moans put him at ease.

“SHIT, there, stay… Nngh, AAH, stay there… that feels, yes…! That feels so good Levi,” you threw your head back against the pillow in utter ecstasy as he continued to massage that spot, easing anothing finger in to add to the now heightened pleasure. Whilst you felt both fingers inside of you, there was no discomfort as his tongue continued to swirl around your pearl.

This was his favourite part. Whilst having you kneeling between his thighs and shattering his control was indescribable, nothing could compare to the pleasure he felt whilst eating you out like a starved man. Fuck it felt good to make you feel good. Levi couldn’t stop his constant stream of whispered groans as his cock contiued to weep precum at the mere realisation he was wedged between your legs, feasting on your sex. He continued to grind against the mattress, feeling his own release start to tighten.

Quickening the pace of his working fingers, you couldn’t decipher the pattern Levi was lapping with his tongue, moving in what you thought was random zig-zags against your almost overstimulated clit.

You felt your thighs start to shake, moans escalating into high pitched, breathy pants as the coil in your stomach tightened to the point of snapping, quivering with tension.

“I’m gonna– fuuuuck…! Levi, Lev-Levi, I'm gonna cum… Yes, oh fuck yes, YES FUCK oh– LEVIIII!” with the continued ‘come here’ motion and mind numbing pace of his fingers against your g-spot and a final, long suck of your clit, you completely came undone with a desperate, lengthy scream of his name. Knuckles draining white with your iron grip on the sheets, your thighs locked around his head as your back arched completely off the bed.

It was all Levi needed to find his own release, hearing you chant his name like a prayer and feeling you convulse around his fingers and gush around his face was enough for him to spill all over the bedsheets, a small needy whine fluttering from his muffled mouth, devoured by your leaking cunt.

You two stayed like that for a moment as you both came down, Levi allowing you to catch your breath before being forced to tap on your thighs to release him, the clamp around his head easing.

“As happy as I would be suffocated between your legs, I don’t think I want to die quite yet,” Levi’s gravelly, gently teasing voice brought your back down from whatever elysium your mind had wandered off to, feeling his breath against your face. Your eyes peeled open, too fucked out to widen completely at the state of his face. Pearly white translucent essence lathered his lips and chin, bathing him in a glossy coat until he wiped it away with his other hand.

“What the fuck was that pattern? The one with your tongue?”

“Something I thought of on the spur of the moment. L-E-V-I, A-C-K-E-R–” your giddy giggle cut him off, hand pushing his face to the side playfully.

“Okay okay I get it, you’re utterly filthy and possessive.”

“Well, I had to leave my mark on you somehow.”

“As if the marks on my neck don’t exist.”

“Oh, they do. I’ll be spelling my name like that next time,” you gaped at his cocky smirk, unable to believe this was the same man you’d spent years living with.

As if inspecting your release on the tips of his fingers, he went to suck them clean in his mouth, but you were suddenly much faster. Grabbing his wrist, you brought his hand to your face, engulfing his fingers and swirling your tongue around the soft pads.

Levi’s eyes widened, a brow raised in incredulous disbelief.

“You brat, that was mine,” he huffed against your neck, looking at his hand with a pout as you took his fingers out your mouth with a small suck.

“Hmm, I don’t taste too bad,” you mused with a smirk, hoping to get some sort of rise out of him.

What you weren’t expecting was for him to roll to the side, pulling you into his chest so you had to angle your head up to peer into his now soft, grey eyes.

“You taste divine, firefly,” your heart skipped a beat at the nickname he’d only called you twice before.

“Why do you call me that? Don’t get me wrong, I love it but– why?” you murmured, snuggling into his warmth as much as you could whilst still being able to look into his loving gaze.

Levi stayed quiet for a moment, almost as if he were contemplating something, before gently tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear.

“Because you’re a light, (Y/N). I was in a shit place, and you were a light. From the day I met your scrawny ass. You shone like some weird, feisty little beacon. You’re my firefly in the dark,” Levi was never good with words. Shit, he didn’t know how many times he’d rehearsed that little explanation, ready for the day when you would inevitably ask, and even then he still got it wrong. There was so much more he wanted to say. How you guided him forward. How you bathed him in your glow. You were so much more than his beacon.

You were his whole heart and soul.

You had been for a while.

Tears lined your eyes. You certainly weren’t expecting that. You weren’t expecting something so tender, even after your lovemaking. You weren’t expecting to see the raw, unwavering devotion in his eyes as he spoke such soft, soulmending words. His arms tightened around your waist as you nestled into the crook of his neck, breathing in his fresh, sweat musked scent.

You were both tired, content from you finding your highs in each other. Administrating pleasure for one another.

You were both happy with how far things had gone.

Then why were you both still awake?

Levi felt you lashes flutter intermittently against his collarbones, his only indication that you joined him in consciousness.

Neither of you said anything. You didn’t have to. Raising your head from his neck, the unspoken want reflected in his own eyes. Your lips joined his, gently moulding against one another in a gentle, passionate kiss. Wordlessly, he rolled on top of you, caging you against the bed with his arms either side of your head as his mouth moved against yours.

“Do you want this?” Levi pulled back just far enough to murmur, his lips still ghosting your own. Your hands found his hair, gently massaging his scalp as you nodded, looking deeply into those stormy eyes, blue and silver swirling seamlessly within his irises.

“I want you, Levi. Always you,” you responded, leaning back up to close the miniscule gap between you. One of your hands travelled down his back, skirting round his hips to his half hard length. You giggled cheekily at his muffled groan when you took him in your hand again, slowly pumping as he continued to harden. You wanted this. More than anything, you wanted him to claim you, and you wanted to claim him. You belonged to each other.

Levi lined himself up with your folds, shivering as his tip grazed your wetness.

“Last chance to say no before I take your virginity,” there was nothing but sweet sincerity in his hushed voice, his thumb caressing your cheekbone.

You masked your nervousness by raising a cocky brow, a lopsided smirk pulling at your lips.

“Right back at you, handsome,” you replied, but Levi could see right through you. Though your tone put him at ease slightly, he could still tell you were anticipating what was to come.

“I’ll be gentle, I promise. I’d never deliberately hurt you, (Y/N),” Levi lowered himself to recapture your lips, hoping to take some of your mind off the pain as he began to ease himself into your slick folds. You were thankful he’d stretched you somewhat with his fingers, but it wasn’t quite enough to quell the pained hiss you elicited as he slowly filled you. He would pause his movements at every sharp inhale, patiently waiting for you to accommodate his girth. It actually helped him as well, the overwhelming pleasure of your walls tightening around his cock almost enough to send him over the edge for the third time. He felt guilty for enjoying it, knowing you were in a lot of discomfort.

“I’ve got you firefly. I’ve got you. You’re doing so well, we’re almost there, I promise, take as long as you need, I’ve got you,” he cooed reassuring encouragement in your ear, letting you know there was no pressure on you. You relaxed a little, feeling the pain ease a tad as you did.

Levi felt your muscles loosen a fraction, and relief washed over him at the mere thought of you feeling a little more comfortable. Still, he refused to move until he’d heard you give him the go-ahead. You were dictating this, and he was once again more than happy to go at your own pace.

“Okay… okay. You okay?” you opened an eye to look up at his strained expression, slightly concerned he wasn’t enjoying it. You knew it would get better for you, but there was no point in continuing if he wasn’t feeling good either. But that thought was quickly extinguished when he nodded slightly erratically.

“Yeah, more than okay. I should be asking you that,” your small, huffed amusement was music to his ears.

“Go on then,” you smiled mischievously, almost forgetting about the tearing pain between your thighs. Your calmed, comfortable demeanor soothed his guilt ridden heart as he smiled fondly.

“You okay?” he gave you an eskimo kiss, gently nuzzling his nose against yours.

“More than okay,” you replied, copying his own response with an earnest grin. “You can keep going, by the way. Sorry, I should have said that sooner,” you smiled, looking away a little sheepishly. He hated how you thought that way. Hated how, even now, you weren’t thinking about yourself. He swept away your expression with a quick peck to your lips.

“No, you shouldn’t have. I want to move with you. This is all about you, don’t worry about me,” you could have cried at his words, feeling his lips against your neck. “You feel amazing,” he whispered, grasping the sheets as he continued to fill you to the hilt. You hissed again, but the pain was lessening to a dull throb now, his entire length sitting snug within your walls.

You both paused again, allowing you to get used to the sensation of being so full.

“Everything alright?” you could have chuckled at the obvious restraint in his voice, heart warming knowing he was doing everything he could to make you feel as comfortable as possible. You loved how he continued to need reassurance.

“Yeah, all good. You can move now baby,” Levi looked back at you, wide eyed and stunned.

“Are you sure? You don’t need more time? I can wait, I don’t want you to think–” he couldn’t finish his sentence before your lips crashed against his, your hips bucking as you feasted on his mouth. His eyes rolled at the friction and you swallowed the groan escaping his lips as he began to pull out, only to slowly thrust back in, his eyes fluttering shut at the sensation of your gummy walls gripping and massaging his length.

“Fuck… god you feel so good,” he moaned, having to remove his mouth from yours in favour of breathing. You gasped quietly, raising your legs to wrap around his waist, encouraging his hips to roll deeper. The pain had been completely replaced by a unique pleasure you’d never felt before.

“Yes… Levi, shit, yes…!” Your breathy moans fueled his gentle thrusts, keeping the pace steady and rhythmic. It worked perfectly for both of you, especially when the tip of his cock grazed the same spot you were sure his fingers were grinding against earlier.

“There! L-Levi, right there, yes oh fuck!” you whined, rolling your hips to meet his. Levi stilled, allowing you to grind yourself on his length, your mouth falling open as he continued to rub against your g-spot, the spongy texture enveloping his leaking tip.

“(Y/N), a-aah,” Levi gave up on forming words for the second time that night, loosening a lengthy, gravelly groan into your ear. You whimpered as he started to thrust again, picking up the tempo as the two of you lost yourselves in the pleasure of each other’s bodies.

He kept the angle the same, heatedly relishing in the high pitched moans with each well placed thrust.

“M-more, Le-vi, Levi, ‘need more,” your heels dug into the small of his back as if he would pull away. Snaking his hand between you, your hips bucked wildly as he started to circle your clit with his first two fingers.

“Yes, yes, FUCK, yes, shit (Y/N),” he couldn’t stop the stream of breathy grunts as your walls contracted around him, sucking him deeper than he ever imagined. “Does it– nngh– does it feel g-good?” he asked, as if you could find a voice with which to reply. Miraculously, you managed to nod frantically, uttering a guttural “yes” as his thrusts swiftened to something a little rougher, encouraged by your continued string of curses, his hips now pounding into you. The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, the continued squelching of his cock entering you repeatedly only heightened the sensation as you walls began to clench, you high fast approaching with the repeated rubbing of your clit and g-spot. Your nails began to claw against his back, scratching lines of fire against his skin.

“Levi... LEVI! Fuck… fuck... I’m gon-na cum. D-don’t stop, feelssogood…!”

“Yeah? C-cum then. Cu– fuck, cum for me,”

“A-ah, Levi, yes… YES…! LEVIIII…!” Levi’s breath hitched as you held him in a vice grip, his eyes rolling back in sheer ecstasy as you came around his dick, back bowed in an arch, eyes closed as your orgasm washed over you in waves Your thighs shuddered and tightened around his hips as he fucked you through you high, fingers still blurring against your pearled bud until overstimulation shattered through your nerves, muscles twitching and clamping as he continued to find his own high.

“Shit…! Shit, oh fuck… Fuck, i’m so close, (Y/N) I’m s-so– so close, ha-ah…! Nngh, i’m gonna– oh fuck, yes… yes fuck…! Imgonnacum, (Y/N)... aa-aah, fuck (Y/N)!” Levi only just managed to pull out before he came across your abs, groaning desperately as his hips bucked into your lower stomach. You reached down through your own fucked out haze to grasp his cock, milking him through his orgasm much like you did early on in the night. Thumb grazing circles across his overly sensitive tip.

“Fuck, (Y/N) stop, ‘s too much… p-please,” you grinned against his neck as he collapsed on top of you, his face turning to the side as he fell between your shoulder and the pillow, panting against your skin.

You both refused to move, limbs too heavy to even think about cleaning up right now.

“Fuck… that was good,” you breathed, arms coming to drape across his marked back. It was only then you realised how painful it looked. “Levi! Oh my god I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” you asked, gently caressing the now raised lines across the muscles on his shoulders and back, hoping to soothe what you had done. He huffed a chuckle at the concern in your tone. If only you knew how much he’d loved feeling you draw white hot lines into his skin.

“Don’t be. I’m fine, I kinda liked it,” he confessed, tilting his head up to look into your shimmering, concerned eyes. (E/C) irises that quickly swirled with cheeky intent. You poked his forehead fondly, raising a brow.

“You little masochist,” your teasing tone made him lift his heavy body off yours, holding his weight a little shakily on his elbows as he leaned down to kiss you gently, his tongue brushing effortlessly against yours.

“Mmm, it was rather good wasn’t it?” he smirked against your lips as you scoffed.

“Rather? Says the man who the neighbours will be complaining about for the next god-knows-how-long. I think even those shit eating nobles above ground heard you,” you teased, smoothing over his eyebrow, his eyes rolling dramatically as he bunched up the sheet to gently wipe his seed from your abdomen.

“Okay fine, it was really good. But you know, you weren’t exactly silent yourself, right?” you’d never get bored of this banter between you. Never get tired of the amused spark in his dark irises, the slight quirked pull of his lips.

“Shut up,” you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him against your neck when you couldn’t keep up the feigned annoyance on your face. He chuckled into the dip between your neck and shoulder before the two of you fell silent, content to bask in each other’s comforting warmth.

“You need to go pee,” and maybe it was his flat delivery breaking the serene silence, but that one sentence broke you. You exploded into fits of laughter, head thrown back in hilarity. Levi looked up in bewilderment, puzzled by your sudden reaction. But you had a certain contagious spark to your laughter, and he found himself joining you in your amusement. You couldn’t tell whether it was the release of all the sexual tension between you, or whether it was the elating realisation that you belonged to each other. Whether it was the relief of finally physically admitting your mutual attraction, or something completely different, but you found yourself unable to stop the bubbles of happiness from escaping your chest, even when you’d calmed down a little.

Levi too managed to control his hiccups of mirth, at least enough to ask you a one word question.

“What?”

You adored the way he looked at you and you were sure only one other person had ever seen him look like that before.

“Nothing, you’ve always got my wellbeing at the front of that beautiful mind of yours, haven’t you?” your hands carded through his hair as he rolled his eyes again. You could tell he was trying to school his smile back to neutral, but found himself unable when faced with your grinning visage.

“Shut up and go pee brat, I’ll clean up here,” Levi reluctantly rolled off you, pulling you up with him because he knew you wouldn’t have moved otherwise. You were shaky on your legs and he held your arms until you’d regained your strength before sending you off with a quick peck on your lips, something you tried to deepen but he caught on to your antics disappointingly quickly. “Go, you insatiable minx,” you laughed again as he gently pushed you, not before glancing at your gorgeous physique.

“Oi, stop checking me out,” you grinned over your shoulder as you left the room to do as he said.

It didn’t take him very long to strip the bed and change the sheets, finding some spare cloth and cases to drape over the bare mattress and pillows, bundling up the dirty bed clothes and dumping them in a small basket to be washed All before you wandered back in. Levi could see how tired you looked as you made a beeline for him, not quite with the same savvy confidence as you had five minutes ago, the night’s activities finally catching up with you. He couldn’t say he felt any different.

“C’mere beautiful,” he sighed as you collapsed into his chest. Levi tightened his arms around your body, pulling you to the bed with him.

Lying down on the fresh sheets, he tucked you closer into his chest, a smile pulling at his lips as you wrapped your tired arms around him.

As if he would ever leave you.

Tilting his head down, he pressed a delicate kiss to your hair, smiling against the faint scent of his soap you usually used.

“I love you, Levi,” Levi’s breath hitched at the three words he’d longed to hear you say. Never in his entire Underground existence did he think he could ever be this happy. The thought provoked a rogue tear to slide down his cheek.

When he’d regained some of his composure, realising he hadn’t moved or even breathed for a little too long, his legs shifted to tangle with yours, simply wanting to feel you against him.

“I love you too, firefly,” he felt your soft, relieved smile against his neck as you both settled into each other, drifting off into one of the longest sleep either of you had managed in a very, very long time. At some point he’d rolled the two of you over, facing his back to the door, caging you in and instinctively protecting you against the horrors that lay outside those four walls.

Neither of you woke when Isobel and Farlan returned to the house in complete disarray.

Isobel immediately suspected what had happened judging by the plethora of discarded clothing and bundled white sheets in the wash basket.

“Oh my god, Farlan look! Is bro okay? Wait, are they both okay?! Look at (Y/N)’s neck!” Isobel gawked in slightly scared awe at her brother and his childhood friend. Well, lover now, they supposed, if the scratches on his back and the hickeys on your neck were anything to go by.

“How long do you think they’ve been knocked out like this?” the taller, sandy haired man asked, raising a brow to the girl as they leant on the doorframe, both looking at your sleeping, barely covered forms.

“Honestly? Beats me. Took them long enough though. If they didn’t fuck soon I would have thrown myself out the window. You could smell the sexual tension between those two,”

“That’s gross, Issy,” Isobel giggled at Farlan’s disapproving look, the dirty blonde clipping the back of her head as he leaned forward to shut the door, giving the two of you privacy.

Levi had been semi-coherent. Too tired and comfortable to throw either of them one of his glares, the sleeping bundle in his arms had softened him to the point of gooeyness. He smiled contently against your head.

Honestly, he couldn’t blame Isobel.

If you two hadn’t done something soon…

He would have thrown himself out the window alongside her.

꧁ꨄ꧂

“So, you did know her?” Levi tried to trace the steps he took that led up to this exact situation. He was always about no regrets, but shit, if he wasn’t starting to have a few. Sitting opposite his Commander, an ankle crossed over his knee, arms folded defensively, occasionally leaning forwards to take sips from his small cup of tea he’d managed to bring with him before being almost dragged into the blonde’s office.

He rolled his eyes, setting down his teacup once again, his arms returning to their positions against his chest.

“No. I already told you,” he’d insisted on keeping up this charade of ignorance, not knowing what it would do to either of you if anyone found out. Although he knew it was useless lying to him, Erwin would inevitably find out sooner or later.

The man across his face rubbed his palm against the side of his face in slight frustration, eyes closing as he took a calming breath. Levi almost felt sorry for him. He knew Erwin was under a lot of constant stress, and he knew he was contributing to that stress right now. If it was about anyone else, he would have caved in sooner. But this was you, and he would go to the ends of the earth to protect you.

“Levi… this is serious. If you know her, I need to know. It could help us protect her–”

“Protect her? Against what? I thought the MPs were done with her now,” Levi’s façade slipped slightly as worry invaded his normally rational mind. Erwin raised a thick eyebrow, clearly noting Levi’s change of tone.

“Just because they’re done with her doesn’t mean they won’t fight to get their way. She killed a lot of their soldiers, Levi. It’s only natural they would want to harm her, and we can only offer so much protection to the criminals we seem to be accumulating,” Erwin explained cautiously, as if realising Levi was a ticking time bomb, and any wrong move could set him off. But the shorter man decided against exploding at that comment, too fixated on the idea you could be harmed further.

“But you struck a deal with Niles, right? Aren’t you commanders supposed to honour deals like that?” the ravenette asked with no small degree of irritation in his tone. Erwin seemed to be slowly understanding what was going on. It was becoming more obvious that Humanity’s Strongest Soldier was perhaps more than familiar with The Raven.

“Levi, please. Who was she to you? An associate? Business partner? A friend? A lover?” Levi’s jaw flickered at the last suggestion, telling the Commander all he needed to know. “Really?” there was no judgement in his voice, only genuine, surprised curiosity. He didn’t think Levi even had it in him to love another, especially since he’s lost so many.

“Tch, so what?” might as well admit to it now he’d already guessed. Levi’s heart clenched with guilt, already trying to formulate some sort of plan. He didn’t know why there would be any repercussions to the two of you having a relationship years ago, but he didn’t doubt there would be. There always seemed to be.

“No, nothing, I’m just… surprised if I’m honest. You’ve never mentioned her before,” Erwin seemed genuinely, innocently interested, rather than that usual tone he took when he was fishing for information. Levi relaxed a tad, reaching for his teacup and taking a good, long sip, providing himself time to think.

“It was a very long time ago now… We haven’t seen each other in a decade or so,” he admitted quietly over the rim of his teacup, attempting to hide his face behind his hand.

“Do you still love her?” Levi almost choked on his tea at the sudden, incredibly personal question. The obvious answer was yes. Yes, he still loved you. He never stopped loving you. He only realised how much he really did still love you when he saw you again.

“No,” his response wasn’t as strong as he wanted it to be, and true to his perceptive nature, Erwin noted his hesitancy.

“I think we’re well past lying now, don’t you think?” Erwin smiled gently, now knowing why this was always such a sensitive subject for Levi. Why he stormed into his office the other day demanding to talk to him. Why he was so beside himself about your treatment.

That was his past lover.

Levi sighed, placing the teacup back on the desk before running a frustrated hand through his hair.

“It’s more complicated than that,”

“It’s a yes or no question Levi,”

“What’s it to you, Eyebrows? Pretty sure my answer doesn’t dictate whether she’s safe or not just because The Raven is an ex to one of your captains,” the venom in his voice was tamed by his obvious fatigue. Erwin could only imagine how much of a toll this had taken on the ravenette.

“No. It doesn’t. But I don’t want you to think you can’t come to your friends about something like this, Levi. She’s–” Erwin cut himself off, internally debating the best way to go about this. “She’s somebody important to you. Incredibly important, if your little display the other demonstrated anything,” Levi rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue at the remark.

“I just don’t want her to get hurt. More than she already has,” it was strange seeing Levi, a man Erwin had known to be incredibly stoic and in control seem so vulnerable. It was strange to think Levi had any weaknesses. But the blonde supposed every man had a weakness. Even him.

However if Levi didn’t want her to get hurt, then he should have spoken up before Erwin struck a deal with the MPs to let her join the Scouts.

“Levi… She's a Scout now. It’s highly likely she’s going to get hurt on expeditions,”

“I KNOW THAT,” Erwin raised his brows at the sudden, raised tone, not expecting something quite that desperate to come from Levi, the smaller man now refusing to make eye-contact. “I know that,” he repeated quietly. It was obvious he was in a difficult situation.

“Then I'll ask you again. Do you still love her?” Erwin’s tone was ever patient, something Levi appreciated as he sat in silence before answering, once again unable to meet Erwin’s piercing gaze.

“Yes. Yes I do. I didn’t stop. I never stopped loving her,” Erwin’s expression softened at Levi’s words, leaning his chin against his intertwined fingers, his elbows resting on the desk.

“Does she know that?”

“Fuck sakes Erwin, are you seriously giving me dating advice?” Levi raised what could have been an amused brow, if only the seriousness of the conversation didn’t convert it into something of irritation. He couldn’t deny this conversation had gone better than he could have expected. He didn’t expect his Commander to be so supportive of a relationship between his Strongest Soldier and The Raven. But, he supposed, as much as he hated to admit it, Erwin was one of his closest friends. And his hearty chuckle only exaggerated that fact.

Annoyingly.

“No. No I’m not. I’m not one to give such advice,” another silence settled between the two men, before Erwin spoke up again. “What would you like to do about this?” he asked, willing to let Levi have some say in how his ex lover was treated within the Scouts.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, how would you like to oversee her training? From what I’ve seen, she doesn’t respond well to… authority,” god, talking about this it was akin walking on a sleeping titan, not knowing what would suddenly jolt it awake enough to lunge and bite. This was more Hange’s field than anything, knowing Levi had a strange soft spot for the scientist. Not that he would ever admit it.

“No. I don’t think that’s a good idea. She’s… well… Yes, she’s difficult. And yes, she doesn’t like authority. And yes, she’s perfectly capable of kicking the shit out of any of us whilst eating a salad as she did it but she’s not impossible. You just have to know how to… work her,”

“Sounds like you do,”

“Watch it.”

“Apologies. That was inappropriate,” Levi could tell there was nothing apologetic about Erwin’s tone. And he couldn’t deny that it was rather funny, conveying his thoughts with a less spiteful eye roll.

Eyebrows’ eyebrows furrowed in thought, wondering who should survey your training, and who’s squad you should join after.

“I can have Miche take her through ODM maintenance, he should–”

“No point. She knows how those things work better than you or I. She was the one who sold to us,”

“Without your knowledge?” Levi stayed awkwardly quiet for a moment.

“She was wearing a mask…”

“Seriously?”

“It’s dark down there, okay? We couldn’t fucking see her face,” Levi spat, only adding to Erwin’s humerous disbelief. “Anyway, she doesn’t need to be taught that shit. She already knows it. She just needs to be taught how to use it. But she’s a fast learner. If she doesn’t surpass Miche’s kill count in her first two weeks I'll be extremely surprised,” Erwin smiled subtly as Levi kept singing your praises, seemingly unable to stop himself from aggressively gushing about how fantastic you were.

“You seem confident,”

“I am.”

“Why?” The question caught him off guard. Why? Because it was you. He was always confident when it came to you. He could always trust you with anything because he knew you.

Or… at least…

He did.

“Look, I know you’re usually the one asking me to trust you, but just this once, trust me,” Erwin had already made the decision to trust Levi on this one. He seemed to know you better than anyone, even if he had just avoided the question.

“I was going to anyway, but alright. Miche for ODM, Hange for titan theory–”

“Terrible idea, but continue,”

“And she can join the rest of the soldiers for hand to hand. Does that suit you?” Levi couldn’t quite understand why Erwin was being so lenient with this.

“I don’t give you orders. If that’s how it is, that’s how it’ll be,” the raven haired man folded his arms once again, leaning back in his chair.

“Levi, I’m trying to be accommodating about this,” Erwin huffed, growing ever more tired with the Captain’s attitude.

“Why? Just treat her like any other cadet,”

“Honestly? Because I don’t want you to be in a constant foul mood if something goes wrong with her training,” Levi scoffed, averting his eyes from Erwin.

“Fine. Yes, that suits me. Whether it’ll suit her or not… that’s a different question altogether,” Levi’s subtle, fond smile didn’t escape Erwin’s ever-searching gaze, the man picking up on all of Levi’s tells.

“Very well. She can join Captain Francis’ squad as a temporary fix until we see where she would fit in–”

“That man’s a waste of air and you know it,” Levi really was behaving like a petulant child, huffing and folding his arms with every idea he disagreed with.

“Whilst yes, I agree with you, he’s also another Captain. You should probably treat him like one,”

“I don’t see him here with us, do you?”

“Levi…” Erwin warned lowly. Though he did sometimes enjoy the smaller man’s sarcastic quips, now wasn’t the time for such things. Before Levi could respond to the warning however, Erwin continued swiftly. “So, you’ll oversee her training?��

“Didn’t I just say that was a bad idea?”

“I find myself disagreeing with you.”

“Tch, fine. ``We done here?” he asked, tapping his foot impatiently as if he’d been waiting to ask that question throughout their entire meeting. Erwin sighed, trying so hard not to roll his own eyes before nodding and waving a hand. But before Levi could even open the door, he was stopped.

“Levi… What's her name?” Erwin asked, peering at him as if he could see right through him. Levi’s expression softened, thinking back to when she asked him to refer to her with her name rather than her alias.

“(Y/N),” he spoke your name as if saying it any louder would shatter it, the delicacy in his tone so unlike the Levi Erwin had come to know. “But call her Raven until she tells you. Hate to say it, but you wouldn’t stand a chance if she decides you have a target on your back,” that alien fondness returned to Levi’s expression, as if he wasn’t talking about his ex lover possibly murdering his commander.

“I’ll take your word for it. Thank you Levi, for being honest with me. I know there’s more to say, but I'm sure you’d rather rest than talk to me about it,” the offer was there, Levi knew it was. He knew Erwin was offering to help sort through his thoughts with him, but he needed time to…

Adjust to this new normal.

So instead he hummed non-comitally and bid the Commander goodnight.

“Night Erwin, don’t strain yourself too hard thinking about this,” it was his way of saying he was grateful for Erwin’s support. Levi always had his own special way of saying things like this.

Erwin couldn’t respond before Levi was already closing the door behind him.

꧁ꨄ꧂

Warm shower. No, hot shower. Fuck it, scalding shower. Levi kept turning up the temperature, the showerhead gurgling with each twist. He usually found, when nothing else could calm his nerves or soothe his head, a scalding shower and a hot tea worked the trick. But every part of him was alight tonight. His body, his mind.

His heart and soul.

His entire being crackled with some sort of energy he hadn’t felt in a while. He recognised it. Of course he did. It was the same energy he’d feel whenever you’d return home from your strange trips away, which he now knew was Viper teaching you how to survive. Was that how you knew how to stitch his wound that night? Was that how you knew how to effectively apply a bandage, how to suture and sew? That night when he’d stumbled through the door to find the house empty. When he’d sat at the table, silently begging you to come back just so he could see you again. Just so he would stop worrying.

That night when he’d first kissed you.

There were a lot of firsts that night, he remembered fondly. The first kiss, the first touch. The first time he’d heard you moan his name. The first time he moaned yours.

The first time he’d felt such utter pleasure, when your tongue swirled around his tip and your lips lapped at his vein. When your throat massaged his length and he spilled into your mouth.

The first time he’d tasted you, delicately kissing your swollen folds and listening to you unravel above him. Your breathy whines playing on repeat in his head.

The first time you two were joined, closer than you’d ever been before.

Gradually, the shower became far, far too hot. Looking down, Levi could both see and feel the result of his little nostalgia trip. The small whimper of his name in the cell had unlocked a torrent of repressed urges that now sprang to light.

In more ways than one.

It was wrong. It was so, so wrong. You were a mere husk of who you were. You were damaged, fractured. Spiderwebbed cracks lined your mind, threatening to shatter and yet, no matter how far down he turned the shower temperature, no matter how much cold water splashed against his toned back, images of your ecstasy creased face still flashed in his mind, his length only hardening further the longer he left it.

“Damnit…” he muttered with a heavy sigh, before wrapping his hand around his cock and slowly fucking into his fist. His hips bucked involuntarily, having not done this in quite a while now. Levi ran his thumb over that prominent vein, remembering how your hot mouth would suckle kisses along the underside. A low moan escaped his throat, lost down the drain along with the filthy cold water.

He lathered his precum over his sensitive tip, hissing at the friction as he began to pump faster, boney knuckles gripping tighter as he neared his high. His hand didn’t feel like his own. There were no rough callouses on his palms, but rather they were softer. Daintier. Smaller. He couldn’t stop his imagination running wild as he thought of you jerking him off, that playful, fox-like smile pulling at your lips whenever his back arched or his hips bucked.

“Fuck…” he groaned, fucking into his fist with renewed vigor, his balls tightening as he felt his release wash through his body, mouth falling open. Throwing his head back, Levi thrusted his hips into his grip as ropes of white seed spilled from his tip, seeping through his fingers.

He braced his arm against the white tiled wall, watching the water wash away his ivory sins as his cock softened in his hand. Guilt punctured his afterglow, self hatred a constant accomplice as he turned the temperature back up to boiling, hissing as the lava scalded his back, staining his skin an angry red. He wouldn’t have tea after this. He wouldn’t carefully dry himself off, or sit at his desk and stave away sleep.

He would collapse amongst the unused duvet and pillows of his bed, and hope his nightmares carry him to retribution.

141 notes · View notes

mrs-hollandstan · 3 years

Text

Make Me Love You || Frat Boy!Tom [epilogue]

Warnings: sexual comments, pregnancy and children, marriage and weddings, just cuteness, mentions of IVF, mentions of parental issues, language, mentions of marital issues, mentions of fuckboy!Tommo

Word Count: 7,996

Author's Note: Thank you, thank you, thank you, for those that have stuck with me through all of this. It's been a journey and I'm so grateful for those that stayed for the whole thing. This series has been such an important part of my life and writing and I don't know how I'll function without it, but I'm grateful to have finished it and gotten it out there for others to enjoy. 💖

Series Masterlist || Add yourself to one of my taglists

Welcome to Our Forever

Thomas & Y/F/N

August 5, 2023

White roses and eucalyptus line the wooden board announcing your wedding to the man of your dreams. Maybe not the best decision to have a summer wedding, but Harrison and Ivey had only wed some three months before, and you refused to take away her shine. As it was, when she sat beside you in her auburn colored dress to have her hair and makeup done, she was glowing, reminiscing on her big day with a brand new wedding band to go with her engagement/wedding ring, and a new ID showcasing the Ivey Eleanor Osterfield namesake.

It wasn't necessarily the first time you four girls had been together since graduation, but the time that you spent together had dwindled since going out into the real world. Phoebe was making bank as an emergency room nurse at UW Emergency just off campus and she and Keaton had started living together in University District. Cole had moved Scarlett into his apartment once Keaton had moved out and she's been working as a financial analyst the past two years. He'd mentioned proposing to her, but hadn't officially done so yet. Ivey and Harrison were living in an apartment not far from you and Tom, Harrison working at the Seattle Art Museum, and not too far from him, Ivey was working as an editor in downtown Seattle. Still, after two years, the four of you were meeting up for date night often, you and Ivey mostly discussing wedding plans and crazy stories from your day, while the boys talked sports and alcohol.

Since graduation, you and Tom had adopted a little gray pitbull from a local shelter, similar to Tessa, whom you named Rosir. With the help of your dad and the first few paychecks from your therapy office, you were able to purchase a car, a Subaru Crosstrek, which you and Tom used for weekend getaways and vacations. He'd even taken the time to revisit the same house he and the group stayed in in Oregon two springs ago with you.

"You remember how you told me you wanted something like Ivey and Harrison that night shit went to hell?" He had asked you as you lay in bed one night, bare chests pressed together and Rosie laying just off to your side on the floor, squeaking her toy. You had hummed and nodded, leaning on his chest,

"I regret that."

"Don't say that. I just hope that it's been better than what they have. I've tried to make you happy." You smiled up at him and nodded,

"I've never been happier than I am now." You had reassured him. He'd smiled and leaned in to kiss you. You'd discussed the shitshow that was the last two years of your relationship and how now, you couldn't see being with anyone else and you were convinced that your kids wouldn't have what you did, with a fractured family. Most of Tom's wounds had healed and he was focused on you, his career path, and your future. You were putting everything that had happened in the past behind you for the better now, focusing on your wedding, your marriage, the future.

"You nervous?" Phoebe asks as an artist drags a brush with eyeshadow across her lids. You shrug as you're drawn from your haze,

"Less nervous about marrying him than I am about graduation." You admit. She smiles,

"I'm in love with you two. He's fucking lucky to have you." She murmurs, closing her eyes again. Ivey sighs,

"I think you've beaten me out at being the most gorgeous on your wedding day."

"No, don't say that. You were absolutely stunning."

"Yeah, but are you seeing yourself? Tom is going to lose his shit." She explains. You smile, staring at yourself in the mirror as your makeup artist brushes blush along your cheeks. You giggle,

"Okay, fine, I do look hot." You murmur. The three of you laugh along before Scarlett sighs and moves into the room,

"Your dad and Cole are fighting again." You roll your eyes,

"I almost just wish they hadn't tried to reconcile." You tell her. She smiles,

"I mean... at least they're trying for you and all of our future kids." She reasons. You sigh,

"Yeah, I guess." She sits behind the three of you, waiting until you're all finished before she helps you slide into the a-line dress you'd chosen, the girls gasping,

"Oh Y/N, you look gorgeous." Ivey says. Phoebe and Scarlett agree and when Nikki enters the room, she gasps and covers her mouth, tears springing into her eyes,

"Oh Y/N darling..." She mumbles. You smile, taking her hands when she approaches,

"Do you think he'll like it?" You ask her about her son. She nods, sniffling softly,

"Oh I think you could wear a burlap bag and he'd think you were exquisite, but this..." She nods, "he'll absolutely love you in this." She assures. You smile,

"Great. You look amazing yourself." You tell her, looking her over in her maroon colored mother-in-law dress,

"Well thank you sweetheart." She murmurs, a dusting of red coating her cheeks. She clears her throat,

"I uhm, I have something for you." She says. It's only then that you notice the worn black box in her hands. You follow her to the small couch, sitting just beside her before she opens the box and reveals an old pearl necklace, "My grandmother got this as a gift and it's been passed down through our family. My mother wore it on her wedding day, I wore it on my wedding day. If you'd like... I want you to have it, wear it today and any day in the future as my first daughter-in-law." She tells you. You stare at it, mouth agape,

"Oh gosh... Nikki... are you sure?" She nods immediately,

"Of course. They're to be passed down. Hopefully you get a daughter to do the same to and the tradition can continue in our family." She tells you. You dab at your eyes with a tissue,

"Thank you so much. It's beautiful." You tell her, moving forward to hug her. She hugs you back, kissing your cheek softly. She helps you latch it around your neck and by then, the girls are completely ready,

"It's time Y/N/N." Ivey tells you with a cock of her head. You take a deep breath,

"Gosh... really?" She shoots you a sympathetic smile and nods,

"Fortunately." She tells you. You allow Nikki to fasten your veil into your hair and hand you your bouquet, the girls each collecting theirs before you stand before the full length mirror, staring at yourself. You take a deep breath,

"The next time I step foot into this room, I will be Mrs. Tom Holland." You murmur more to yourself more than anyone. You watch Ivey smile in the mirror before you turn to them and nod,

"Okay, I think I'm ready." You tell them. They each nod before leading you from the room, walking the short distance to where the boys are waiting at the end of the hall. Tom had more groomsmen than you had bridesmaids, but you didn't really care. Three of his seven groomsmen were walking alone, his brothers leading the pack down the aisle together. You honestly thought it was cute. Cole maneuvered his way over to you to kiss your cheek as your father appeared,

"You look beautiful." He tells you. You smile, glancing up at your dad,

"Thanks Cole."

"You know mom would be more than proud of you." He reminds you. You nod, indicating to the veil,

"And she's with me." When your dad had offered up the diamond encrusted lacy material your mother had bought for her own special day, you sobbed and agreed without a second thought. It was such a simple yet meaningful gesture, especially coming from your dad and you haven't thought twice about it since. Cole's eyes are glistening as he nods and Scarlett slips her hand in his bicep.

Sam, Harry, and Paddy are the first down the aisle together, Tom's smile wide when he sees them. Ivey and Harrison are the first couple down the aisle with her as your matron of honor. Scarlett and Cole are next with her being your maid of honor, but you told Phoebe she was also your maid of honor. You weren't letting her feel left out in this situation. Gil was last down the aisle, helping your flower girl and ring bearer, both younger cousins of yours, down to their respective sides. You take a deep breath as you watch Tom stand at the head of the aisle, nervously swaying side to side, hands clasped in front of him. Your father flexes his bicep to imitate a squeeze,

"Don't pass out on me. At least let me get you to him." He jokes. You smile,

"Course not. But... this is the last time your little girl will be a Y/L/N." You tell him. He hums, glancing down at you when you look up,

"You'll always be a Y/L/N, but I'm okay with you being a Holland. Tom is a good man." He reminds you. You smile and nod,

"I agree." You murmur before "Canon In D" starts, giving you your cue. You take another deep breath before your father starts the walk, and all of your guests stand. Your dad reaches out and pats your hand as you walk out into the sunlight, your videographer (thank you dad) crouching beside your fiancè to capture his reaction which is quite honestly, the sweetest, most heart touching thing you've ever seen. He reaches up to brush his tears away, pivoting from foot to foot quicker as he takes a deep breath and blinks away the flood of tears that threaten to spill. You smile up at him, walking steadily with your father until you're standing just before him. He takes a deep breath as your minister asks who gives you away. Your father replies and hands you to Tom who helps you onto the small pedestal across from him. He sniffles softly, staring down at you with so much love in his eyes.

The ceremony progresses quickly and before you know it, you're announced as Mrs. Tom Holland. Tom smiles wide before he's wrapping an arm around your waist, the other curled up your back as he dips you, sealing your deal with a final kiss. You hold him to you, staring up into his eyes when he stands you straight before he pivots on his feet, smile as wide as it can get as you're announced as husband and wife. He gives your hand a squeeze and waves it in the air as your guests cheer and clap.

You scurry off, holding onto Tom as he kisses you over and over again and continuously tells you how beautiful you look while your wedding party makes their way back down the aisle, your bridesmaids and his groomsmen all crowding around you with congratulations thrown your way. You flaunt the ring, and before the guests pour from your venue and towards the large brick building for the reception, Tom's family and your dad and Heidi follow your wedding party to the designated picture area.

The pictures, you can tell, are going to be absolutely gorgeous. Harry and Nikki were both more than happy to be the wedding photographers, and absolutely denied being paid for the work. But you'd seen sneak peeks of some of the shots they'd snapped of your wedding party and you were in love. You'd finally sobbed, and Tom had let you when Nikki flashed you a photo of yours and Tom's foreheads pressed together, his hand brushing along your cheek, wedding band shown off blatantly. It hadn't hit you, how serious getting married was and now it was.

You'd been the last to depart the area where your professional photos were taken, Nikki and Harry leaving you for a private moment to yourselves, the first in nearly two days since the boys stole him and the girls had stolen you. You'd stood in silence for a moment, admiring the scenery of the woods around you before he'd untucked a hand from his pocket and reached out for yours. You'd threaded your fingers together,

"Has this been the wedding of your dreams so far?" He asks softly. You smile, nodding,

"Since I was a little girl I dreamed of marrying a prince. Now I have him, and this," You gesture around you, "This is more than I could ever ask for. It's been beautiful so far and merging our families has been a dream." You tell him, taking a step closer to him. His smile widens,

"Good." He murmurs. Standing on your toes, you lean in and kiss him. He hums,

"Can't believe I married the girl of my dreams." He murmurs. You giggle,

"It is all very surreal. All of the times we talked about marriage and kids and now we're here, doing it."

"Hell yeah, I don't fuck around." He jokes. You roll your eyes,

"But... now that we have a moment... what do you think of the dress? Your mom said I could wear a bag and you'd still think I look stunning."

"Oh definitely, but... yes... this is absolutely gorgeous. You look stunning darling. More so than ever." He tells you, holding you at arms length to look you over. You twirl for him, the bodice of your dress flourishing around you and Tom smiles,

"So beautiful." Dragging you back in, he leans in to kiss you, arms bound around your waist, your hands rested on his shoulders, smoothing down them. He hums,

"We should sneak off and have married sex now." You giggle, tipping your head back which draws him in to trailing kisses down your throat,

"Yeah, I'd like to see you try and do a quickie in this dress. You'll get lost in it." You tell him. He chuckles,

"I believe you. You've got a lot of tulle goin on here." Nodding, your rest your hands atop his shoulders, staring up at him,

"You've made me so happy the past four years... I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you." You tell him. He smiles,

"The feeling is so fucking mutual." He tells you, hands curled around your back. He presses his forehead to yours and sighs,

"I promise to make you happy every day of my life. You mean the world to me." He tells you. You sway him softly, holding his waist,

"I promise to do the same."

"And after tonight, we'll go to Fiji and have a good time, just the two of us, and then we'll come back and try for a baby." He starts. You giggle again,

"You have our whole lives planned out then huh?" You ask. He nods,

"Definitely. Won't be long now before we're house hunting and moving a sweet little babe in." He murmurs in your ear. You sigh,

"Is it bad that I kinda wanna stay in the apartment for a little while after having a baby?" You ask. His eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head,

"No, not really. We... did talk about turning that spare into a nursery for her. We could go through with it."

"And we're still stuck on them being a her huh? You do know I'll kill you if we have a boy first and you even think about being disappointed." You tell him. He hums, eyebrows knitting together again,

"No, of course not, I would never. Any baby that comes from you is loved by me darling. You don't have to worry about it." He confirms. You nod, letting the silence permeate between you for a moment before you sigh,

"We should probably be heading back. No one can do anything without us." You tell him. He chews the inside of his lip for a moment before sighing himself and nodding,

"Yeah... let's go get a beer." Smiling, you hold your hand out for his again, lacing your fingers with his. He smiles as the prongs of your ring scrape against the pad of his finger and you give a tug of his hand to lead him up the trodden path towards your reception. Once on the concrete, leading up to the building, Tom squeezes your hand, glancing at the sign announcing you as husband and wife,

"I cannot believe I am Mrs. Thomas Stanley Holland." You say. He chuckles again,

"Sounds so fucking amazing." He tells you. You smile,

"It does. I get to change my nameplate at work. Mrs. Y/N Holland. So exciting." He smiles before you round a corner and your wedding party is there, beers in hand and cheering directed your way. Tom waves his hand, cheeks flushing red and chuckles leaving his lips,

"Stop, stop-"

"You're a married man now Tommo!" Haz starts,

"Yeah, what happened to the forever bachelor thing? Who are you and what have you done with our Tom?" Gil jokes. Tom rolls his eyes,

"A beautiful girl crashed the party and roped my ass in." He admits. You smile and accept a beer from Cole, another handed to Tom,

"Well congrats. You two make a beautiful couple. And... now you're my brother." He tells Tom, dragging him in for a hug. You smile, watching your husband and brother hug before Cole turns to you,

"And you look beautiful Y/N/N. Mom is so so so fucking proud of you. I just know it." He tells you again. He leans in and kisses your cheek. Ivey pops up from inside the venue,

"Alright guys. We're headed inside. Back into formation." You smile, looping your arm through Tom's. You'd chosen to have your DJ announce your wedding party, the group dancing in and once you make your way inside, it leads into your first dance. The other Holland boys lead, both sides of the families laughing at their antics. Ivey and Harrison follow, then Scarlett and Cole, and Keaton and Phoebe, finishing with Gil. Tom squeezes your hand in his arm as the DJ speaks again,

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, the moment you've all been waiting for, I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Tom Holland!" He cheers, the roaring from your guests loud as Tom escorts you in the door, twirling you and showing you off to your family. Your cheeks hurt from the smile you carry and Tom let's out an airy laugh as you hand your bouquet off to Ivey and he wraps you in his arms, holding your body close as the first notes of your first dance song play through the speakers, all eyes on you. But none of it matters. All that matters are the chocolate colored eyes you know every inch of. The ones you've come to love and the ones you get to stare into for the rest of your life. He's yours, and you're his, and this is what forever feels like.

---

You giggle and cling to Tom as he carries you across the threshold of your suite. He gently sets you on the bed, watching you lay out beneath him,

"So stunning." He murmurs. You roll your eyes and sit up a little to pull your veil off,

"I see the cheesiness hasn't dissipated."

"Well no. It'll only get worse from here. Instead of taking it as my girlfriend or fiancèe, you're taking it as my wife. Now you for sure aren't going anywhere. It's so much worse." He tells you. You giggle, kicking your heels off. He sighs, raking a hand through his hair,

"Is it bad if I say I'm glad that part is over?" He asks with a cock of his head. You shake your own head,

"No... it's stressful. Especially for me when there was so much for me to trip over." You tell him. He hums,

"You did great. You looked amazing all night and you were such the little party host."

"I'm the bride, I have to be." He sits on the bed beside you, clearing his throat,

"Yeah, I guess." Sighing, you roll so your body is pressed into his side. He leans back on the bed on his elbow, loosening his tie,

"It was a pretty good night. You did good on the planning love." He chides. You smile,

"Thanks babe. I put my heart, soul, and money into this perfect day." He nods, raising his eyebrows,

"That's for damn sure." He murmurs. You giggle,

"I couldn't imagine any other wedding being more perfect than ours. It was really fucking beautiful."

"To be fair, your dad paid for a lot and my parents contributed too." He reasons with a shrug, staring up at the ceiling when he moves to lay back on the bed fully. You smile, leaning in on his chest. He sighs,

"I loved every minute of it."

"That's all that matters. You only get one wedding and it should be perfect."

"It was. I love you." He smiles and leans up to kiss you,

"Love you too darling." You sit in silence for a moment before you sit up and take his hand,

"Unzip me, I have a surprise for you." You tell him. He hums, sliding the zipper down your back and moving to lean on his elbows again as he watches you slip from the wedding dress, revealing a beautiful set of ivory colored lingerie, an intricate piece that draws Tom's eyebrows up again,

"Well that's one hell of a surprise."

"I had every intention of wearing blue but this is a wedding night set and I couldn't pass it up."

"Yeah, no, you'll have all kinds of opportunities to test out different lingerie. Heaven forbid you pass up this opportunity for wedding night lingerie." He murmurs. You smile, stepping from the puddle of tulle, lace, and satin at your feet and leaning in on his knees,

"So I assume you like it." You coo. He snorts,

"When have I ever not liked lingerie on this sweet little body?" He asks. You giggle,

"Never."

"Exactly." Moving his hands onto your hips, he drags you into his lap, your lips covering his. He hums into the kiss, moving his hands up your back. Your fingers move down to unbutton his shirt. You smooth over his stomach, his hands traveling down to hold onto your hips,

"Shall we try and figure out what's so different about married sex?" You ask him. He smiles, pulling back to look into your eyes,

"I think that'd be quite great actually." He murmurs. You smile down at him,

"Just think... you don't have to worry about getting me pregnant now because we're already married." He chuckles, watching you reach behind you and unclip your bra, tossing it aside. He licks his lips,

"I'd love to know what these'll look like when you end up pregnant." He murmurs, moving to massage your breasts into his hands. You tip your head back, holding his shoulders. You slide your hands beneath his button up brushing it from his shoulders. He sighs,

"So perfect."

"So yours." You murmur. He chuckles,

"You're damn right." You giggle before he's leaning back, pulling you with him. You lean on the bed over his shoulders, leaning in to kiss him,

"I love you husband." He smiles wide,

"I love you, wife. More than you'll ever know." You lean back in to kiss his throat, his hands skirting down to your hips until the cold metal of his wedding ring is pressing into your lower back.

The next night, after landing in Fiji and checking into your bungalow, Tom slides down into the sand beside you. He sighs, squinting in the setting sun and holding a beer out to you. You take it, thanking him softly and sipping from it. He does the same as you look him over. He looks calm for the first time in months. His hair is flat and he's wearing a tee and a pair of cotton shorts, no shoes on. You smile when he looks at you and his eyebrows furrow,

"What?" He asks through a laugh. You shake your head,

"Nothing, I just love you. You look good right now." You move to lay your head over his shoulder. He takes a deep breath, laying his head over yours and reaching out to squeeze your knee,

"Happy first night of forever." He mumbles. You squeeze his body against yours,

"So far, so good." You tell him. He hums,

"Can't go wrong with me." Giggling, you sip from your beer again, leaning your arm on his knee,

"I will admit, seeing "Mr. and Mrs. Holland" on the door was a really surreal thing for me." You tell him. He smiles, moving his hand up into the light to look at the ring on his finger,

"I've always been called Mr. Holland in a professional sense but... hearing Mrs. Holland and knowing that it's in reference to my wife and that you're finally, fully mine is like... insane." He admits in return. You nod,

"I agree." You murmur. Nudging the neckline of his top down, you brush a finger across the hickey you'd left the night before. He smiles,

"The markings of a spoiled little wife."

"I really don't think I'll ever be over the whole wife thing. Like... hearing you say it blows my mind. I definitely thought I'd be your girlfriend for the rest of my life and you'd never be ready to marry me."

"I was ready to marry you the second you came back from New York after Spring Break."

"Liar."

"I did. I never wanted to let you go again. I had fucked up and never wanted to risk losing you again." He explains. You smile, looping your arms under his and leaning your head on his shoulder,

"That's truly adorable. You've still had your moments but... I have no doubt that all the growth you've done since that whole mess has helped you. Really." He nods,

"I feel a lot better, that's for sure." He tells you, sighing. You hum,

"I'm glad. You know... we both have to be in a good mindset to have a baby."

"Speaking of, you are okay with having a baby like... soonish right?" He asks. You shrug,

"Yeah, sure, why not?"

"I just obviously wanna make sure you're comfortable and we're on the same page." He tells you as you move to lounge between his legs. You scoff,

"Bitch I just married you. There isn't a thing you could do to make me uncomfortable. We're one now." He chuckles, laying his hands over your stomach,

"But you would tell me if something is out of your comfort zone right?" He asks. You nod, eyebrows knitting together,

"Course."

"Good." Leaning your head back against his chest, you sigh, closing your eyes. He presses his lips to your temple and leaves them there, breathing you in. The setting sun provides a nice warmth,

"I say we just never go back to America. We just run away and become permanent travelers." Tom chuckles,

"And abandon my very expensive diploma, I think that's a dumb idea love." He tells you. You hum,

"You could very well get a big break in Europe without the degree." You reason. He hums,

"That'd be great to take you back to my home."

"Well since we'll be traveling, you very well could give me a better tour of your little hometown." You confirm. He nods,

"That sounds really good." A silence settles over you, the sound of the waves crashing being the only noise around. He reaches up and rubs over your shoulders,

"I'm glad we're here."

"Me too." You tell him quickly. He smiles,

"I'm really glad you agreed to marry me." He says. You giggle,

"Me too." His smile widens. He leans in and kisses you softly when you rise to your knees and turn to face him,

"I think we should revisit the newlywed sex." He implies with a raise of his eyebrow. You hum,

"Me too. Definitely." He chuckles softly before he's standing and taking your hands, leading you back through the sand to your bungalow, pushing you on the bed softly once he slides the door closed.

---

*Seven Years Later*

"Mia darling, please don't do that." Tom calls to your oldest child, hoisting Harper, your current youngest into his lap with her holding his fingers and climbing his chair. He focuses on the two year old, her hair falling down her back and her legs tangled up in her dress. He rubs her back once she snuggles into him, kissing her forehead.

Not long after your wedding, you were pregnant with Mia. The second Tom found out she was a girl, he couldn't drop the smile, convinced that the talk of having a girl first all throughout college was just divine intervention. Seeing your husband as a father that first time was unlike anything else. He couldn't put his baby girl down. You were his girl, and he followed you around like a lost puppy, but the second you gave birth to little Mia Faye, he was hooked. And the process continued with your first son three years later, Wyatt James was held in Mia's lap, who was always in Tom's lap. And then again with his second baby girl, Harper Monroe. And now here you are, pregnant with your final baby, another sweet boy who Tom talks to daily, first thing in the morning before he wakes your three older kiddos to bring to bed and see you and at night, right before you go to bed, wishing your little wiggly bean goodnight. He already has a name, Oliver Ethan, and you're excited to have a complete family, four kids to grow up together and travel with, something you and Tom have loved doing since being out of college.

Cole sighs as he sits beside Keaton who holds his and Phoebe's daughter, Emma's tiny purse, glancing up at his ex-roommate,

"'S the matter? Being the father of the birthday boy is tiring?" He teases. Cole rolls his eyes,

"Not only that, but when his papa decides it's time to spoil him and he wonders why mommy and daddy don't do the same, it can get interesting." Cole explains. You smile, rubbing the baby bump over your dress. Tom watches you,

"I'm just glad that he has a papa. You and dad have gotten along pretty well since he's moved out here." You tell him, reaching up to stroke through Tom's hair to soothe you both. Cole crosses his arms watching his daughter, Daisy, follow Scarlett around, Logan and Ashton, Ivey and Harrison's older boys by her side like they always are when the group is together,

"I guess so, yeah, it's been... weird. He avoids bringing up mom which makes it awkward but... he's a good enough grandfather. The kids like him and if Scarlett needs help and I'm not available, he's been there." He explains. You nod, leaning into Tom's side. Harper twirls your hair around her finger sleepily, Tom leaning in to kiss her pudgy cheek,

"Regardless, you guys are talking and actually acting like father and son. Now we have like an actual family again." He nods,

"Yeah..." Keaton yawns,

"And what about you Ke? Now that dad's back here and starting that branch of his company here and you're working for him again, how's it been?" He glances up as Phoebe slides into the chair beside him,

"Yeah, it's good. Back to better payment, being the assistant. It's pretty nice."

"And no such luck with the baby making?" You ask. He smiles, looking to Phoebe,

"We're getting there. It's been a hard process but... IVF has been going pretty well."

"I'm trying to calm the fuck down." Phoebe starts, dragging her fingers through her hair, "I know that going through all of this, the IVF'll fail and then I'll get pregnant naturally." She says with a roll of her eyes. Keaton smiles,

"The embryo we transfer next month is a girl. Our little Sophia so... hopefully. Fingers crossed." He says. You smile and nod,

"All our fingers are crossed." You tell them. Keaton smiles, glancing up as Wyatt runs up to you,

"Mommy..."

"Yes my love?" You ask of him as he leans in on your legs,

"Can I go with Mason to his room to see his toys?" He asks you. You brush his hair from his eyes,

"Did you ask Auntie Scarlett or Uncle Cole if you could?" You ask him. He glances around,

"Mason asked auntie."

"If she tells him yes, you can go with him but- hey, Wyatt... but if you go in his room, you need to be careful and don't do anything bad okay? Pick up after yourself like we tell you to do at home." You tell him. He nods before running off to find his cousin. Tom is smiling when you look to him again,

"What?" You ask. He shakes his head,

"You're just a really great mum is all." He mumbles, helping Harper slide from his lap again, "Where are you headed love?" He asks, but she ignores him and runs off towards the jumper. You giggle at the pout on his lips, glancing up when Ivey sighs behind you. Her and Harrison slide in between you and Keaton and Phoebe, the little green blanket she left with half an hour ago to quiet the crying cradled in her arms again,

"He okay?" You ask. She nods and rolls her eyes,

"He's had a little bit of colic so... he's just cranky but... he's fed and asleep. He should be good for a little while now. Logan and Ashton been good?"

"Yup, only pulled Daisy's pigtails once." You joke. She huffs,

"I believe you. Ashton, if you don't tend to him in time, pulls your hair to get up on your chair or whatever he wants. I swear... sometimes if Harrison doesn't collect them while I'm feeding or something, he's sleeping on the couch." Harrison snorts,

"Yeah, we've had to take up stock in ice cream to keep the boys away from mum." He murmurs. You giggle, watching Ivey roll her eyes before she reaches an arm out and rubs over your belly,

"How's this little one? You're about in your eighth month huh?" She poses. You nod, pressing a hand to the base of your belly,

"Yeah... he's doing good. He was super rambunctious last night. We were up all night last night watching him swim and kick. He's gonna be our biggest baby I think." You tell her. You carry a huge smile and taking a glance at Tom, you see he does too. He's so proud of this family you've created. He loves you and all three, almost four kids you have,

"And Rosie is back to being her protective little self with new little man?" Harrison asks. You nod,

"Soooooo much. She's normally with the kids but if I sit down, she's right in my lap, head laid over the bump." You tell him. He smiles,

"She's been pretty great eh?"

"Oh and her and Tessa get along so damn well when my parents bring Tess down." Tom pitches in. You smile,

"They've both been great. We were blessed in a lot of ways."

"That is so good. She's been such a great girl for you."

"She really has, and Y/N never had animals growing up so she's been a great little companion for Y/N's first time." Tom explains. Ivey nods, glancing up at you,

"And she's grown up with the kids technically." You pose. Ivey smiles,

"That Christmas card... so damn cute. You guys with the matching kids and Rose. I can't believe how tall Wyatt is getting. I bet he'll be taller than Tom before we know it." She winks as Tom rolls his eyes,

"Ha ha. Very funny." She smiles,

"You know I'm kidding. He's so cute though. All those freckles. He looks just like you Tommy."

"Well he's lucky then." Your husband murmurs, smiling when you swat at him. He leans over and kisses your cheek,

"He's hooked on his mumma though. Doesn't ask me for shit. Goes straight to her."

"Well you've got two baby girls that go to you. So... I'll keep him." You defend. Tom chuckles

"Who is that? Is that Auntie Y/N/N?" You glance up just in time to see a tan little boy move into your line of sight, giggling. You smile up at him,

"My little Hunter!" Gil chuckles as you take his little boy, laying him in your lap to tickle him. Tom laughs along as the little boy squeals and Gil leans in to kiss your cheek and then Ivey's,

"Bout time you showed."

"Mmm, Minah kept changing his outfit." He mumbles. You hug Hunter into you, smiling as Tom ruffles his hair,

"Why didn't she come?" Harrison asks. Gil rolls his eyes,

"Uhm, her mom's in town. But... I don't think she would've come anyways." He tells him. Ivey cocks her head sympathetically,

"Still having problems?"

"Yes, and she wants another baby like that'll magically save our relationship." He remarks. You smile up at him,

"Well I dunno about you but I think this little one is great." You tease, tickling Hunter again. Gil's smile returns when Hunter giggles,

"He's the only thing that keeps me sane." He tells you. Tom nods,

"That's how it works." Reaching out again, Tom brushes long strands of hair from Hunter's eyes,

"I think Wyatt and Mason went to Mason's room. You wanna go see?" You ask him. He nods, squirming from your arms and running off. Scarlett catches him in the doorway, standing on her toes and pressing a hand to his head. She smiles before walking to the table you all sit at,

"Are we having fun? I see there's only one kiddo here right now. Hi sweet boy."

"He's not so sweet right now." Ivey mumbles as Scarlett leans over her shoulder and coos into the blanket in her lap. Surprisingly, the little one smiles a toothless smile up at his aunt, the smile growing wider when she reaches down and pokes his nose,

"Not feelin good baby?" Ivey shakes her head,

"Colic still."

"The gripe water didn't work?" Scarlett asks,

"Very briefly." Ivey confirms. Scarlett clicks her tongue,

"Damn. Poor thing." Ivey nods, rocking the bundle. When both girls look up, they find you smiling at them. Ivey giggles,

"What?" You shake your head, blinking tears away,

"Nothing... just wondering how we got here. What happened to the girls I was introduced to eleven or so years ago? We were so young and carefree and look at us now. We're all moms. We're all wives and killing it all." Tom hums, reaching out to brush the stray tear that falls away. Ivey clicks her tongue, blinking rapidly,

"Oh babes. You pregnant and me coming down from postpartum doesn't help this shit." She moves in, laying her head over your shoulder. Scarlett whines before she's brushing Tom aside and wrapping her arms around you and Ivey. Phoebe's heeled boots click as she rushes in to join the group hug, Owen, in Ivey's arms cooing up at her too. She smiles,

"I know I was quite the party girl but... these little ones are the best things we could ever do. Ten... almost eleven, twelve when I get a clear head, these are our greatest accomplishments." She tells the three of you. You nod, pressing her hand over your belly,

"Definitely." Your baby boy kicks out against her hand in agreement, making the four of you giggle. Tom smiles too, watching you and the girls hug before you part and you take his hand, squeezing and pressing it to your belly. He hums as he rubs the bump,

"He's gonna be a rambunctious little thing. Reckon we'll be exhausted after chasing just him around." He says, scooting closer to you. You smile, reaching up to drape your arm over the back of his chair, trailing up his back,

"Well you're the one that had the years of experience of chasing girls around so I think you're suited for the job daddy." His smile widens,

"Please never mention that in front of the kids. I don't need my little girls knowing and my little boys thinking it's okay that their dad was a womanizer in this very gender equalizing, accepting time." He murmurs. Leaning into him, you kiss his cheek,

"I promise not to."

"Thank you." Scarlett, who had previously walked away, starts back towards you, wide smile on her face,

"I have another tiny slice of cake. I know you and baby boy want it Y/N." You gasp, holding your hands out,

"Oh my God yes, you're a lifesaver!" You squeal. Tom watches, chuckling softly as you snatch the thin slice of chocolate cake with vanilla buttercream frosting from your sister-in-law. You offer some to him, but he shakes his head. He glances up at the bouncy house, clearing his throat after a moment,

"Uh oh. The sugar monster's coming. You made a grave mistake accepting cake behind her back like that." You glance up, watching Harper trot towards you, climbing back into her father's lap. He holds her steady moving his legs closer to you to allow her to chomp the piece of cake from your fork. He tucks hair behind her ear,

"That's good huh lovey? You are never getting to bed tonight little one." You giggle, watching a sparkle flash through Harper's vibrant brown eyes,

"But with her daddy's puppy dog eyes, no one can resist her." You reason. He nods and leans in to kiss her cheek,

"Well that's for sure." He murmurs. Once you've finished the cake, Tom holds Harper close, the little one allowing her daddy to love on her. He glances at you and raises an eyebrow and you know exactly what he's asking. The second she saw the cookies upon entrance, it's all she was stuck on for a while. She's such a daddy's girl because he spoils her and you just know he's asking if he can give her a cookie because she's been so good with no tantrums. You chew the inside of your lip,

"Just one."

"That's all I'm asking for anyways." He confirms. You nod,

"Fine then. Nothing more though." He nods, pulling her from his shoulder,

"Harp, I have a surprise for you, you wanna know what it is?" He asks her. She nods, standing on his thighs, holding onto his hands. He smiles, "You want a cookie? I know you wanted one earlier." Her eyes light up and she nods, bouncing on his legs gently. He chuckles,

"Alright sweet girl, let's get you one then, yeah?" She nods again, clinging to him as he stands and your heart flutters. To believe that the same man that fought you on a relationship and constantly pushed you away, is now holding your two year old daughter to his hip at a kid's birthday party is beyond imagination, and it is the most beautiful thing ever.

---

You smile as Tom grabs your wrist, pulling you flush to his body,

"I know you're exhausted love, and I'll go get you some ice cream after the kids are in bed but... I missed seeing you with all of our friends. You looked stunning all glowing and pregnant out there." He tells you, pressing a hand to your belly. You smile, reaching up to stroke his cheek,

"You're the sweetest." His smile widens before he leans down to kiss you,

"I've spent a long ass time loving you and it's not going anywhere anytime soon. Especially when you're pregnant with my baby. You and those three... almost four in there, I'd kill for." He reminds you. You sigh,

"I really lucked out in the husband department then huh?" You ask. He chuckles softly,

"Guess so, yeah." Popping open the passenger side door, Tom waits until you climb inside to close you in. He climbs in beside you quickly, turning the car on before Mia speaks up,

"Daddy?"

"Yes love?" He asks, turning in his seat to face her,

"Can we listen to Frozen?"

"No," Wyatt speaks up, "put on Cars."

"How about we meet in the middle and settle for some Brother Bear or... Lion King?" Tom poses, settling the argument your kids'll inevitably have. And it works. Tom finds the soundtrack for Brother Bear in his phone, quickly shuffling it and stuffing the device in the cup holder. His Spotify has slowly become Disney movie playlists since he's become a dad and he loves every second of it. Harper swings her feet, staring out her window as she hums along to a song, Tom watching her in the rear view mirror with a smile plastered on his lips. You reach up and stroke over the back of his neck, leaning over to kiss his cheek,

"You are so perfect Tom Holland." You tell him. He draws his eyes off the road for just a moment to look at you,

"Well that makes two of us Y/N Holland." He says, taking your hand in his and kissing your knuckles. Squeezing his fingers in yours, you sigh and twist in your seat to look at your babies.

Wyatt resembles his daddy the most. He has the same signature curls and eyes and you can already see he's starting to inherit the same nose Sam has and those Holland freckles have emerged. He's definitely a little mama's boy and with the way the girls favor Tom, you hope Oliver will follow in his big brother's footsteps. Mia has Tom's eyes too, but her features resemble you a little bit more. She has your hair type and color, and your nose and eye shape. Tom loves that about her. Harper has more of your features as well, but she's a near perfect combination of the both of you, a gorgeous little girl that Tom coddles the most because she'll let him. He's been in love with all of your babies since the day they were conceived, the most amazing father and husband, getting up at ungodly hours to let you sleep in and him take care of the kids. He's always been an early riser because of golf and now, being a dad, he has the skill to master it like he was never sure he'd be able to. His true calling in life, the cure for his anxiety, has been you and his babies.

Dragging his hand back up to your lips, you kiss it,

"I love you so much Tom Holland." You whisper. He smiles, taking his eyes off the road for just a second to look at you,

"And I love you. More than you'll ever know." He replies, dragging your hand up to kiss it. Tears spring into your eyes again as you stare into his eyes and recognize that boy you met nearly eleven years ago, the one that only wanted to be with you sexually and wanted to avoid you emotionally. You recognize the boy that tore apart your relationship again and again, but always chose to get better for you. And now he's the most perfect husband and father. And that's all that matters to you.

Yes, you were nervous moving to Seattle, starting new, but your friends, Tom, they've made it easier to live. They've changed your life for the better. They’ve given you immense amounts of love and Tom, himself, has given you a love like no other that created four beautiful babies. And you wouldn't change a thing. Moving from Beverly Hills to Seattle, has proved worth it.

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helliontherapscallion · 4 years

Text

Bonding (Adrenaline Junkie Chapter 12)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: nightmares, swearing, mentions of death/injury

Word count: 3,383

(A/N): it feels good to get back to this story

A week and a half went by in a flash. In that time, you and Arthur grew closer. You absolutely loved how he was so interested in innovation and engineering, you felt like he was the perfect choice for your apprentice. To pass the time, you would teach Arthur the basics of redstone working. You taught him everything from how to properly store it to the beginnings of using repeaters. Occasionally, Philza would join you two in lessons.

“Then, you just connect the repeaters together with redstone and set each for the desired times. Et voila! You have properly working timed pistons.”

Looking up from your demonstration, you stifle a chuckle at the two sitting in front of you. Arthur, the ever vigilant student, was frantically scribbling down notes into the journal you gave him, his face scrunched in concentration and his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth. Your father, however, looked downright confused. The poor man was staring down helplessly at the two repeaters in front of him, the whole set up he had looked slightly flimsy in structure. Redstone dust messily formed a line between the iron contraptions with the occasional tiny break in the dust. Judging by the positioning of the repeaters themselves, they were in the right place but they were haphazardly placed. Sure the positioning of the two repeaters relative to each other would work, but it was just something that you wouldn’t do. You always hated clutter in your contraptions. The only true flaw in his build was the messy line of redstone.

You walked over to the table your dad was working at and started to explain why the machine wasn’t working. “So your only mistake here is the cleanliness of your redstone. With it being this messy, there are plenty of potential breakages of the wiring,” you gently swept the redstone into a neat line with your hands and watched as the entire contraption glowed red. Pistons started moving in succession of each other in timed bursts. “One more thing, just a little nitpicky thing, the repeaters are set right, they’re just… messy?” You watched as Philza watched the movement of the pistons with a blank look before he looked up at you with a slightly annoyed look.

“Other than that, the settings of the repeaters were set right!” You sheepishly grinned at him before realizing that he wasn’t going to be reassured by your weak reassurance. You looked over to Arthur, “Arthur buddy you wanna try?”

You watched as his eyes lit up in excitement as he looked up from you from over the brim of his journal. Without a word, he quickly got to work. You and Philza watched him as he continuously looked between his journal and his work.

“I didn’t know working with redstone was so hard. I just thought it was easy with how fast you invent things,” Philza said dejectedly.

You reached over to pat him on the back, “it took me a while to figure it out. I remember four years ago when I started I was completely lost.”

You felt the vibration of his chuckle, “I remember when you almost crushed your wing in a piston. You were so lucky it only caught the ends of a few primary feathers.”

You chuckled bittersweetly, “not that it matters. I lost that wing a few months after that.”

You could practically hear his mind start churning, “but you made a new one, you can still fly.”

“It’s not the same Dad. I hate having to spend thirty minutes putting the sensors on my back. I can’t feel the air moving through my feathers anymore. It feels like a part of me is constantly missing and this hunk of useless metal doesn’t take that feeling away.”

He fell silent as he continued to watch Arthur work. You always felt bad whenever you dumped your trauma on him, he was always looking for ways for you to feel better. But there were just some things that couldn’t be fixed with reassurances and small gifts. He didn’t understand that and you didn’t have the heart to tell him that his kind and caring nature would never get you your wing back. It was gone forever and nothing can bring it back.

You tried to not be bitter about it, it happened three years ago afterall, but you couldn’t help but feel a bitter taste on your tongue and a pang in your heart whenever someone mentions a time when you still had both wings. Whenever someone mentioned you having both wings, you could still remember the feeling of the air working itself through the nooks and crannies of the spaces between your feathers, the way that both wings would hang off your bed because they were too large (you never got to ask Philza about how he covered his wings), the way that they would both puff up behind you when you tried to intimidate your brothers during a snowball fight. You didn’t want those memories, they were of a better version of yourself. You didn’t want to be reminded of what could’ve been if you didn’t go deeper into that damned cave.

“...Sorry, that was uncalled for.”

“Don’t apologize, I should’ve realized how you felt before bringing it up.”

“It’s not your fault, you didn’t know.”

You watched as his eyebrows furrowed and he looked at you with confusion, “why’re you just now-”

“(Y/n) I think I did it! Come look!”

Without a second glance at your dad, you hurried off to inspect Arthur’s contraption. It was perfectly set up; the redstone was in a neat line with no breakages, the repeaters were set perfectly and spaced evenly apart, and the pistons were successfully moving together in timed spurts.

You grinned at Arthur, “well done! This is perfect, you’ll be moving onto making your own inventions in no time. I couldn't have asked for a better apprentice.”

Arthur basked in your praise and listened to your words like they were being sung to him by an angel. He was practically beaming with how proud he was of himself. If the redstone smeared on his cheeks could be activated by emotional response, it would be glowing a brilliant red.

You reached out to wipe away the redstone from his cheek with your thumb, “why don’t you go clean up so we can grab some lunch. I bet you’re hungry.”

“I’m not hungry, I just wanna work with you more!” Arthur tried to convince you, but the rumbling of his stomach told you otherwise. You chuckled as the redstone slowly got camouflaged into his reddening puffed out cheeks.

He looked away in embarrassment as he started to stalk up the stairs, “...I’ll go clean up.”

Alongside teaching Arthur the basics of what you know, you were working on a plan to somehow release the souls from the Warden’s captivity. You felt a sort of survivor’s guilt when you thought about how you returned to your family and Hugh did not. Your family could survive without you, but Hugh was Arthur’s only family. It was unfair that such a kind, loving boy had his only family ripped away from him at such a young age when he needed his brother most. The least you could do for Arthur was free his brother’s soul from it’s endless torment.

You kept a journal that you would write out your plans in. The plans ranged from fighting the Warden with your very limited swordsmanship to blowing the entire cave to smithereens. No matter what plan you came up with, it would always result in you getting seriously wounded or dying for the last time. Most of the plans you came up with wouldn’t work anyways; the Warden was just too powerful. Asking Philza or Techno was out of the question, you didn’t want to risk their lives. That, and they would never let you go kill it. This was something you had to do on your own.

The mere thought of facing the Warden stressed you out extremely, giving you more and more nightmares about the monster.

The Warden somehow entered your house. You could hear it’s booming footsteps working its way through the hallways and stopping at each room. You could hear how it slaughtered your family brutally. You could hear their screams slowly becoming integrated into the horrid cacophony of the souls’ as their souls were absorbed into the Warden’s being. Finally, as the Warden reached your room, you could hear your family’s voices over the harsh screaming of the other souls.

“You promised me that you wouldn’t let it get me.” Arthur.

“I thought you’d always protect me.” Tommy.

“Why’d you let me die?” Wilbur.

“I’ve done so much for you and you just let me die.” Techno.

“It should’ve been you.” Philza.

Just as the Warden’s clawed hand swung down towards your face, you bolted up from your bed and flattened yourself against the wall scanning your room for the Warden. There was not a single thing out of place in your room. You wiped away the tears that were streaming freely down your cheeks and grabbed your automatic crossbow you had leaning against your wall. Grasping it with an iron grip and your finger hovering over the trigger, you reluctantly left your room and made your way down the hallway. You opened Philza’s door and peered into his room. You could see his wings sprawled out behind him and his chest rising and falling gently. He was still alive. You closed the door quietly and made your way to Wilbur’s old room where Arthur was currently sleeping. Bracing yourself to find his corpse, you opened the door. You only saw a mop of brilliant red hair poking out of the blankets. You couldn’t see movement, oh god was he even breathing? You rushed over to his bed and pulled back the covers.

You could see his peaceful face looking back at you. Putting your hand under his nose, you held your breath as you waited for air to hit your hand. Finally after what seemed like forever, you felt a gentle burst of air hit your hand. You covered Arthur back up and stalked out of his room. Your family was alive. The Warden was still in that cave. It was just a dream. It was just a dream.

You glanced at the clock, it was about half past four in the morning. You’d have to wake up in about two hours, so you just made your way down to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of coffee. Not that you’d be able to go back to sleep after that nightmare anyways. Time moved infinitely around you as you became engrossed in your thoughts. You needed to make better plans to kill the Warden. You needed to be better.

You didn’t notice when Arthur and Philza entered the kitchen. You were fully zoned out staring at the now cold cup of coffee in your hands, lost in thought. It wasn’t until you felt a hand on your shoulder that you snapped out of your trance. Recoiling violently and reaching for the crossbow you had propped up against the chair, you whipped around and pointed the weapon at the thing that touched you. Instead of the Warden standing there ready to devour you, you were met with a startled Philza stepping back with his hands in the air. Arthur was hiding behind him fearfully.

Your eyes widened as you lowered the crossbow. You could feel your wing start to puff up and retract itself back in reflecting your horror as you hastily put the crossbow back onto the table. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t- I wouldn’t do that. Shit what time is it, I haven’t made breakfast yet. I’ll start. I'm sorry.”

You pushed passed them as you rushed over to the chest and pulled out the ingredients to make pancakes. Your shaky hands struggled slightly to pour the exact measurement of flour before someone stopped you.

“(Y/n), I’ll make it.” It was your dad once again.

“No, I got it.”

“(Y/n), I’m not asking. Go sit down.”

You sighed as you started walking to the table. You could hear Arthur’s breath hitch in his throat when you grabbed the crossbow and stalked up to your room to hide it. You could feel guilt, shame, and horror rise up from deep within you from what you almost did. You couldn’t believe that you almost just shot them because of your stupid delusion. It would’ve been fatal too, your automatic crossbow never failed to kill. It was one of the many downsides to the weapons you invented, you had to live with the fact that people are getting killed because of your inventions. In a way, you indirectly killed many people per day.

You walked down the stairs as slowly as you could so you could avoid having to face them. You couldn’t forget the look of pure fear on Arthur’s face as he hid behind Philza, you were the cause of that. You promised that you would protect him and he fully trusted you to do so. This morning you took that trust and destroyed it the second you reached for that crossbow.

When you reached the dining room, you sat down as far away from Arthur as possible. You could hear Philza pause his movements when he saw you enter the room before he started stirring again. He was probably trying to see if you came back with a stronger weapon so he could protect Arthur. You were a monster.

Soon enough breakfast was ready and a hefty plate of pancakes covered with maple syrup was placed in front of you. Breakfast went by quietly, the only sound coming from the clanking of silverware against plates. You didn’t eat much of your breakfast, you were too busy trying to think of a way to apologize to Arthur and Philza. In the middle of your thought process, you were interrupted by Arthur’s voice.

“(Y/n)?”

You jumped slightly and looked up at him, “yeah?”

“Can you look at my blueprint? I got an idea for something yesterday and I wanna see if you think it’d work.”

You looked at the young boy in slight confusion, “...Sure just finish your breakfast first.”

“I’m done, I’ll go grab it!”

Without giving you any warning, he jumped out of his chair and raced up the stairs.

“You gave us quite the scare this morning hun. What happened?”

“I’m sorry-”

“Don’t apologize, just tell me what happened.”

You sighed and ran a hand through your hair, “I just had a bad nightmare last night. I couldn’t go back to sleep so I just… came down here to wait a bit so I could make breakfast.”

“Nightmares are understandable, but why’d you have a crossbow?”

“I thought I needed something to protect the house if it came.”

“If the Warden came? I thought you didn’t get nightmares about it anymore.”

“Well, I still do, just a lot more frequently-”

Arthur burst through the door and ran over to you, slapping the paper on the table in front of you. You squinted at it, trying to decipher the messy handwriting. It was a layout of a secret door, which was popular in the world of redstoning. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that though, especially with how excited he was to show you what he made. So, you smiled at him.

“It looks good buddy, do ya wanna try to build it today? I can help you.”

“Yes! I’m gonna go get dressed so we can build it!”

He once again dashed up the stairs, leaving you and Philza alone in the kitchen. Philza chuckled, “he reminds me of Tommy when he was that age. Except… a little more mellow.” When you didn’t respond, he turned to look at you. “What’s wrong?”

You sighed, “he was so scared of me this morning. I promised to protect him and I almost ended up killing him.”

“...Ya know I almost stabbed you and your brothers multiple times when you guys were younger because you guys startled me right?”

You felt the corners of your mouth twitch, “of course I do, and you would always get us ice cream after.”

“Did you ever resent me for it?”

“No, you were just trying to def- oh, I see where you’re going with this.”

“Ever the keen one,” he chuckled. “Arthur’s more understanding than most kids his age, I bet he understands that you didn’t mean to do that. You just gotta make it up to him.”

“Alright, thank you Dad. I think I’m gonna go get dressed so Arthur doesn’t have to wait long. I think if I have him wait any longer he’s gonna explode.”

After you got dressed, you walked downstairs and grabbed the materials Arthur would need and a couple of extra supplies you might need. Walking outside, you were met with an excited Arthur. You two worked on his contraption all day. You knew exactly what he needed to do to fix any problems that arouse, but you only gave him little hints that would push him in the right direction. You wanted him to stop relying on you so much for the little things. Sure, you were always going to be there for him when he was stuck, but you wanted him to be more independent.

Eventually, the sky took on hues of pinks and yellows as the sun started to disappear behind the treeline. “It’s getting late, Arthur. You made good progress today.”

He nodded as he walked alongside you back into the house as you led him to the couch. “Arthur?”

He looked at you, his brown eyes clouded with exhaustion and confusion. “I’m so proud of how fast you’ve improved. I have something for you.” You reached into your bag and pulled out a new pair of goggles and leather gloves.

“I know it’s not much, but-”

“I love it.” He whispered as he stared down at his presents in his hands. Without warning, he flung himself into your side as he tightly hugged your midsection. You froze before you wrapped your left wing around him in a feathery hug. Your hand reached up to stroke his hair as you chuckled. “It’s no problem kid, you deserve it.”

You two sat there for a bit before you patted his back, “dinner’s almost ready. Let’s go clean up so my dad doesn’t throw a fit. You have redstone and dirt all over you.”

After you two cleaned the dirt off from your faces and hands, you led Arthur down the stairs. You nudged his shoulder when you got to the end of the stairs, “race you to the kitchen!”

You broke off into a speed walk as Arthur started to sprint, laughing boisterously as the distance grew between you two quickly. Grinning, you shouted out, “oh no, I can’t go any faster! You’re gonna win!”

You dramatically yelled out a stretched out “no” as he bolted into the kitchen and sat at the table. You sped walked into the kitchen and sat next to Arthur. “How’re you so fast? I couldn’t catch up to you if I tried.”

“Yeah, you’re a speed demon Arthur!” Philza agreed from the stove between laughs. He forgot how much missed having his kids race each other to the dinner table, having Arthur around the house was really refreshing for him. He was ecstatic that you were getting closer to Arthur, it meant that he was going to get another grandson soon.

Dinner went by a lot smoother with laughter and banter being tossed around freely. Arthur would not take the goggles off and wore them proudly at the top of his head. Philza would cast knowing looks over to you when he was sure you were looking at him, which confused you, but you just brushed the feeling aside. You were happy sitting at the table eating with your little family; you couldn’t wait for your brothers and nephew to finally meet Arthur. They’d get along well with your apprentice. Until then, you have a mission to complete involving a certain monster.

General taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@crybabyjabby @izzybobizzy13 @goldenstarofthunderclan @bunnyz-pxstel @averytiredfanfictionwriter @dcml04

Series taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@acecarddraws @ravennightingaleandavatempus @dirtydiavolo @yeiras-world @immadatmostthings @hee-hee-haw @jackalopedoodles @m1lkmandan @vanhakirja @im-a-depressed-gay @coolleviauchihadreamerlove @questioning-sanity @camisascam @bongwaterflavoredgatorade @kakamiissad @jayistrash4 @lifestylesleep @speedymaximoff @sun-shark-tooth @appetiteofapeoplepleaser @lestrangenymph @kinismanditory @dragons-lurk-here @rinzyx05 @the-wandering-pan-ace @sparkling-gayyyy @angelic-scent @shinipii @dont-hug-me-im-a-fander @izzydimensional @used-avocado @laura--444 @wing-non @lovely-echoo @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @mysteryartisticwriter @momo-has-a-gun @mosstea-png @w-0-r-n-n @v-kouya @kusuinko @kiinokochii @cheybaee @dulcedippers @jaciahbabes

#sbi x reader #sleepy bois x reader #sleepy bois inc x reader #philza x reader #technoblade x reader #wilbur soot x reader #tommyinnit x reader #sibling reader #platonic #mcyt #mcyt x reader #tw: nightmare #tw: swearing #tw: death #tw: injury

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 3 years

Note

I would m u r d e r for some tom x reader x pump and skid (platonic of course)

Reader has to babysit pump and skid but they also want they're black eyed boyfriend to hang out with them and tom actually gets along with them.

(also he totally doesn't want kids after that)

- Kneecaps anon

"So...why are your eyes black, mister Tom? Are you a spooky demon?"

"Ah well, it's a long story. You see-"

"Oh, Pump!! The ice cream man is here!" Skid interrupted the conversation, before he turned to you, clasping his hands and giving you the infamous puppy-eyes. "May we have some money for ice cream, pleeeaaaase???"

You sighed, knowing that you couldn't refuse. This kid was just too polite for his own good. So you took out your wallet and gave him and Pump some cash. "Here you go, boys. Get whatever you want."

"Yay! Thank you, [y/n]!" They both shouted in unison before they raced out the door.

After it slammed shut, Tom looked at you with an amused smile. "They seem like good kids. But..are they always wearing those costumes?"

"Yeah. They love Halloween."

"...but it's summertime."

"Doesn't matter to them. Every month is spooky month, according to them." You shrugged as you sat back on the couch, briefly looking outside to see the boys getting their ice cream.

Lila had to work today so she called you up to ask if you could babysit the two. You would've felt bad for leaving Tom all alone, though, and thus you invited him along. They were ecstatic to meet him, convinced he was "spooky" because of his eyes.

You reassured him that wasn't a bad thing. It was their own way of complimenting him, so he felt better knowing that.

Tom looked around the house, noticing a hung family portrait of the kids, Lila, and...a monster with a lemon-shaped head?

"Who's that?" He pointed to the frame.

"Oh! That's Lemon Demon." You explained. "They're not actually married. Lemon just kinda became their dad one day, since Pump doesn't have any parents and Skid's dad isn't around anymore."

"Huh, a dad who resembles a fruit...that's funny....."

Hearing the sad tone in his voice, you shifted closer to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "Hey, I know you miss him.." You kissed his cheek, to which he sighed, frowning a bit.

Of course, how could you forget? His dad resembled a pineapple. He never talked much about when he lost him, only mentioning something about guns and bears while he was drunk one night. But you won't force him to tell you unless he was ready.

In that moment, the door opened and Skid and Pump rushed back in with popsicles. Upon seeing how sad Tom looked, they went to the sofa, climbing onto it.

"What's wrong, Mr. Tom?" Pump asked, concerned. "Did I say something bad about your eyes?"

"No, don't worry about it." Tom slightly smiled at him, patting his head. "You wanna tell me more about your dad? This "Lemon Demon" guy?"

"Oh!!" The pumpkin's eyes lit up. "Yeah! He's the best! And so is Eyes but lemme tell you how we met Lemmy!"

And he explained the story about how this monster tried tricking him and Skid into kidnapping someone's girlfriend for candy. But after some time Lemon became attached to them and felt bad for using them for his own selfish desires. So they introduced him to Lila and the two quickly fell in love.

Tom was surprised by the story--and a bit confused--though it seemed to distract him from the sad thoughts of his own family.

You, on the other hand, were impressed with how humble the kids were. They only met your boyfriend for a short while, and they cared for him so much..even moreso than his lifelong friends Edd and Matt.

Eventually, they both finished and glanced at you. "[Y/n], may we use the Ouija board?" Skid asked. "We wanna cheer up mister Tom by introducing him to our new friend!"

"Sure," you chuckled. "You know where the candles are?"

"Umm...no."

"That's okay. We'll show you."

"...we?" Tom raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. It'll be cool. Now c'mon, to the attic we go!" Standing, you grabbed his hands to pull him up. He complied, knowing there was no way out of this.

"Fine...but I better not get possessed."

...........

Surprisingly there was no destruction nor possession as the spooky skids summoned a demon with the Ouija board. It was just taught the "spooky dance" and seemed to enjoy it a lot before returning to the underworld.

Tom wasn't freaked out--as he's used to seeing bizarre things--only confused at how some silly dance could tame such monsters.

By the time everything was packed up and put away, you heard a car beep from downstairs. "It's mom!" Skid jumped to his feet and dashed off, you and the others following suit.

Once Lila paid you and Tom--who was stunned that he actually got money from just sitting around and watching the kids--you both said goodbye and went on your way back home.

"Y'know they seem spoiled but..they're actually kinda cool." He remarked.

"What?" You gawked at him, putting a hand to your chest dramatically. "Tom doesn't think children are annoying for once?? Who are you and what have you done to my boyfriend?"

He just chuckled at your act. "Yes, yes I admit they're alright. Big deal. I wouldn't mind if my kids ever turned out like that."

"Yeah I don't mind the Halloween obsession--wait..hold the phone." You stopped in your tracks. "You actually...want kids?"

"I-I mean..not now obviously. Just a thought." Pink dusted his cheeks as he looked away from you, slightly flustered. Though you simply smiled and hugged his arm, continuing your walk.

"Well, seeing how you were around Skid and Pump, I think you'd make a great dad."

#wow fnf eddsworld and spooky month #as mr peanutbutter would say: 'what is this? a crossover episode?' ghshgh #clanask #kneecaps anon #eddsworld x reader #ew tom x reader #spooky month x reader #fnf x reader #not rly but eh

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bitsandbobsandstuff · 4 years

Text

Ink on his heart

Summary: Here’s how Bucky Barnes got a haircut and then decided it was about damn time he controlled his own destiny - starting with a bit of ink.

Star Spangled Bingo Square: “A thoughtful gift”

Characters: Bucky Barnes x TattooArtist!Reader

Words: 7,400 Warnings: Tattoo experiences, a couple stories about war. Some swearing. Mostly lots of feels and fluff.

A/N: This one has been in my head a long time, I love tattoos and I love the idea of Bucky getting them! While I desperately wish I could draw the designs in my head, hopefully you get enough of a word picture to imagine. And yes, it is kinda long (I know, I know), but I couldn’t stop myself!

Want to find all my stories? Search #bitsmasterlist or try the link in my bio!

*****

Not that Bucky’s counting, but it’s been three days, 18 hours and 26 minutes and he can’t get over it.

In the damp, chilly hours before dawn, he sits on the floor of the tower living room, watching the marshmallows in his hot chocolate melt in white swirls. Now and then, he lifts his eyes to the windows, finds the faint edges of his reflection in the dark glass, and tilts his head. Tentative fingers scratch through close cropped hair and a slow smile appears. Even now, he expects long strands trailing through his fingers. Believes he can feel the phantom tug of a snarl.

It was just a haircut. What a simple, ordinary thing.

But Bucky Barnes has never been ordinary.

That small act triggered a startling transformation. Decades of heartbreak fell away with that dark hair, revealing the shape of a man he begins to remember, and it makes him think. About small things, about change. About simple acts making an extraordinary difference.

The last haircut Bucky remembers before the beginning of his first ending, was January 1945. The memory came back one evening, of a tent in Austria, the heavy silence of snow drifting down. He remembers Steve with a dull scissors, snipping carefully along his ear, remembers the catch of a knife gently shaving his neck. It was a ritual they shared for years. When pennies were tight and life was tough, they took care of each other.

And then? Then there was after.

After the fall, after capture, after the world went pear-shaped. Hydra wasn’t concerned with the formalities of self-care, a haircut was functional. Sharp scissors biting into his scalp, rough hands tearing his hair, a harsh slap if he considered resisting. Get it done and get it done fast. The Asset has work to do.

He despised those haircuts.

But now, here he is. No more handlers and horrors. No more running. No more hiding. No more ropes dragging him somewhere he doesn’t want to be.

Wresting back his independence was exhilarating.

When Steve had finished this haircut - because Bucky still preferred a Steve Rogers special to anything - he’d dusted off Bucky’s shoulders and waited. Sam stood behind him, and Bucky rolled his eyes, expecting a barrage of sassy comments.

But Sam just ruffled the freshly cut hair and laughed.

“Not bad old man. Still not as handsome as yours truly, but hey - maybe someday.”

Such a simple thing, a haircut.

It makes him wonder what else he might do, just for himself.

Fuzzy and disconnected, an old memory flickers to life. It buzzes in his brain, images and connections filtering through the cracks and Bucky lets out a breathless laugh.

“Yeah,” he murmurs to himself. “Okay.”

He closes his eyes and sips his hot chocolate.

*****

Steve yawns when he answers the door. Blond hair spikes in every direction and he rubs his eyes, looking for all the world like a sleepy, overgrown toddler.

“Hey, man. Everything okay?”

Bucky leans against the doorframe and chews his thumbnail while he gathers his thoughts.

“Sure, just - can I get a favor?”

Bemused, Steve ushers him inside and Bucky plops in the red bean bag chair Steve keeps tucked beside his dresser. Stretching out his legs, he waits for Steve to flop back into bed and snuggle his pillow, before he speaks.

“Remember back in ’37 when we were coming home from that shitty bar in Midtown, and we saw that sailor getting a tattoo?”

Whatever Steve expected, it wasn’t this. It takes him a moment to conjure the image, but when it comes he belts out a laugh.

“That terrified kid gettin’ a big heart on his arm? Looked ready to shit his pants?”

Bucky grins at the memory, a milk-faced kid with hair dark and shiny as an oil-slick.

“Thought he was gonna puke on the guy.”

“Yeah, and didn’t we stand outside that window arguing while you tried to convince me we both needed one? Something about good girls liking bad boys?”

“Hey, I stand by that statement!”

“Oh fuck off, you know exactly what your Ma would’ve said if we’d come home with tattoos.”

“Yeah,” Bucky chuckles. “God, she’d a skinned me alive.”

“Damn straight,” Steve agrees and they fall quiet, momentarily lost in shared memories of a woman with a voice of steel and a heart of gold.

Bucky leans forward and rests his chin on his knee.

“You know, all these years and I’ve never really - done anything like that,” he admits wistfully. “Gotten something done to me, I mean. Something I decided on my own. If that makes sense?”

Controlling his own destiny, choosing to do something by himself, instead of always accepting things done to him - the idea is intoxicating. He remembers the pained grimace on that sailor’s face and he relishes the prospect.

Pain you choose to feel holds a different meaning, than the torture he knows.

“S’never too late, Buck,” Steve says drowsily. “You can do anything you want.”

Bucky contemplates Steve’s words. He can do anything he wants. Heart beating fast, he takes a deep breath.

“So listen, I was thinking -”

*****

For two straight weeks, Steve works on ideas.

The floor of his bedroom is littered with sketches and concepts, crumpled sheets of paper dappled with flowing lines. Finally, after midnight on a dreary Thursday, he knocks on Bucky’s door. The moment it opens, he shoves his tattered leather portfolio in Bucky’s hands.

“So, I guess, uh - here.”

Steve crosses his arms, his toe tapping nervously, and Bucky chokes down a laugh. Some things about Steve Rogers remain comfortingly unchanged. No matter how incredible his work, all confidence seems to evaporate the moment Bucky lays eyes on anything.

—

“Give it back asshole!”

“God dammit Steve, YOU’RE the one who asked me to look!”

“Yeah well, I changed my mind, now give it back!”

—

Bucky remembers laughing while Steve chased him around their apartment. He remembers the neighbors banging on the wall, shouting at them to shut up, and he remembers the smell of their forgotten scrambled eggs burning. But most of all, he remembers that drawing - he tucked that portrait of his mother in his rucksack the day he shipped out and it stayed there, a good luck charm all through the war.

Steve had cried when Bucky told him.

Because Bucky’s opinion was always the one that mattered. Seventy years changes nothing.

Tonight, he opens the leather case, revealing three separate drawings. Outlines of black ink and a rainbow of colors paint over the curves and breaks of a human form and he pores over each page. Each drawing is utterly unique, telling the story of Bucky Barnes in metaphors and moments.

There are no words.

His throat feels suddenly thick, cotton lodged in his windpipe.

“I can redo them,” Steve blurts out. He snatches at the paper, but Bucky spins sideways, blocking the reach.

“The fuck you will. You ain’t touching these,” his voice cracks. Blinking back the flood of emotion, he looks up. “This is - they’re perfect, Steve. Thank you.”

Steve blushes petal pink and coughs to hide his delight. He fails miserably, of course, but that’s one more reason Bucky loves the little punk.

*****

One week later, Bucky stands before a demure brick storefront on a slow Brooklyn side street, the portfolio housing Steve’s three precious drawings clutched tight in a sweaty hand. Glancing at the address in his hand, he looks up to find stenciled letters curving across a glass window.

BROOKLYN INK ESTABLISHED 1973

“Here we go,” he mutters. Before he can lose his nerve, he shoves forward.

Three steps inside the tattoo parlor, he pulls up short.

Wow.

Black iron chandeliers hang from the ceiling, splashing sparkles across plush velvet chairs, rich violet and bright turquoise. The floor is an eclectic mix of reclaimed barn board, full of knots and whorls in every shade of brown. Artwork in black and white frames line the brick wall, tattoo designs, letters and fonts, photos of finished work. The entire space overflows with warmth, and Bucky feels instantly at ease.

The front desk is empty, but he hears someone rattling around back, so he takes a seat. Piled high on an end table are bundles of photo albums, full of work; he sinks into the cushions and starts flipping through.

Immersed in the images, he misses the sound of quiet footsteps.

“Are you James?”

The voice startles him and in one swift move, he manages to throw the album on the floor and tumble from the chair. Pages of photographs spill everywhere and he crawls over, hastily scooping them up and babbling one inappropriate apology after another.

“Shit! Sorry, I’m sorry! Shit, I mean I’m sorry for saying shit. Fuck, I didn’t - oh my god, I’m sorry, I’m not usually so - ”

Soft laughter greets him and he looks up in panic, a more refined apology on his lips, but the words evaporate.

Crouching beside him, graceful hands gather up the mess of photos, slipping them back into the album. Dropping it carelessly on the end table, she bounces back to her feet and offers him a hand.

“No worries,” she says with a breathtaking smile. “I shouldn’t have startled you.”

Although he has no need for the support, Bucky reaches mutely for her outstretched fingers because he can’t help but take them. When she tugs, he allows her to pull him up.

“I’m, um - Bucky. Please, call me Bucky.”

“Hello Bucky,” she says. She shares her name and he repeats it slowly. Clearing his throat, he takes a deep breath.

“Thanks for meeting me so late, I know it’s after hours.”

“Sure,” she says lightly. “So, what can I do for you?”

This is the tricky part.

“On the website, it mentioned you had experience with - with tattooing around scars,” he begins carefully. “Scar tissue I mean. Is that right?”

With his question, her expressions turns serious. She observes him for a long moment.

“Yes, I do. Can I ask how long you served?” she asks delicately and Bucky acknowledges her perception with a short nod. He toys with the zipper on Steve’s portfolio, debating his response.

“Seemed like forever,” he finally says, and it’s the most honest answer he has.

Nodding silently, she motions him behind the counter.

“Come on back, let’s see what you had in mind.”

Hugging the pictures to his chest, Bucky follows, eyes saucer wide as they weave through the work area to her space. The shop smells like the woodsy smoke from the candles sitting along her table, mixed with ink and latex and an odd sterile tang. He inhales and discovers he likes it, the strange scent lighting him up.

Dropping to her stool, she gestures for him to have a seat. Bucky sits gingerly, wide eyes still staring. When she catches his eye, he flushes.

“Sorry. First time I’ve been in a shop.”

“That’s okay, there’s lots to see,” she says easily. Looking at the portfolio still clutched against his chest, she grins. “Did you have some ideas already?”

He thrusts the portfolio at her. Propping it on her knees, she flips it open and he beams when he hears her astonished gasp.

“I like the colors there, if you think they’re possible?”

“Sure, might take some extra time, but I can do it,” she murmurs, pinching her lip. Turning the page sideways, she examines every minute detail, shaking her head in disbelief. “This is exquisite.”

“I’ll tell my artist. He’s a real diva sometimes.”

“I’d say he’s earned that right,” she laughs, tracing the paper with a light finger. She flips to the second picture and tilts her head. “The grays and silvers might look nice with midnight blue for contrast?”

Bucky nods eagerly. “Yeah, I love that idea.”

She looks again, examining the intricate design.

“Can you tell me about your pain tolerance? The designs are beautiful, but they’re complex. Each will take multiple sessions to finish.”

Bucky drops his eyes. He heaves a sigh at the obligatory question.

“It’s high,” he mutters. “Very - high.”

Silence follows his admission. When he dares to look up again, he feels a twinge in his chest at the compassion he finds. He offers a rueful smile and she slowly returns it.

“Would you like to come after hours? It can get noisy during the day, if you prefer things quieter. Most soldiers like that better.”

There is a sweep of relief at her casual acknowledgement. He huffs out a shaky breath.

“That would be great. If you don’t mind, I mean.”

“Not at all. I’m a night owl anyway.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says quietly. “Me too.”

She looks back to the portfolio, carefully shuffling the pages.

The third picture appears.

And Bucky sees it, that precise moment when realization sinks in. When she realizes exactly who is sitting in her chair tonight. There is no doubt the drawing gives that fact away. Heart pounding, he flinches, steeling himself for the inevitable.

But nothing happens.

She meets his nervous gaze head on and yet - that gentle smile remains.

“Bucky,” she repeats and this time she understands. “Oh. It’s nice to meet you, Bucky Barnes. Come back tomorrow night, 9pm. Don’t be late.”

He leaves the tattoo shop feeling lighter than he has in years.

*****

TATTOO 1: FOREARM

“Show me a man with a tattoo and I’ll show you a man with an interesting past.” - Jack London

*****

Perpetually early for everything, Bucky arrives at 8:45pm the next night.

The bell over the door tinkles when he enters, and she looks up from the front desk and waves. His stomach unexpectedly leaps and he thinks it must be nerves.

“Hey, Bucky,” her voice is soft.

“Evening,” he says shyly.

“You ready to do this?”

“Could hardly sleep last night,” he confesses with a grin.

Sliding timidly into her black leather chair, he watches her arrange tools on a shiny silver tray. An arm rest is attached to his right side, and he dries his sweaty palm on his jeans before easing his arm onto the cushion, palm up. When she drops onto her stool at his side, he offers a weak smile.

“You got the email I sent with all the information, right? Did you have any questions?”

He scrunches his nose, recalling the long, detailed summary she shared. For each of the three tattoos he requested, she gave him a detailed analysis of the process for creating each design; broke down how long each session would take; gave explicit instructions on the healing and care process; confirmed each individual color and how it would be applied; clarified the tools that would be used, including their brand names and how each one worked; she even provided floor plans of her shop - outlining entries and exits and bathrooms and locations of fire extinguishers.

It was a novel of information that must’ve taken her hours, and he was inexplicably grateful for the time she spent just to make him comfortable.

“No questions, I just, uh - thanks. For putting all that together. It was helpful to have all the information. Helps me keep my head on straight.”

“Of course,” she says. “So this first design should take probably 5-6 hours. Since you’re new, we’ll start with short blocks and see how it goes.”

Bucky gives a jerky nod and she pauses, pressing her fingertips against the smooth skin of his forearm.

“Here are the rules. You’re in charge, okay? We can go as fast or as slow as you need. This is not a race, and I have nowhere to be but here. Any time you want to stop, you say the word and I stop. We can take a breather, grab a cup of coffee and start again - or we can call it a night. This is your experience, Bucky. You’re in control. Understand?”

There is a fierce surge of gratitude at her words. Gratitude for her kindness, for her acceptance. Gratitude for her.

“Got it,” he whispers.

And with that, they begin.

Bucky follows each step, while she measures his arm, while she considers the contours and angles of his muscle, while she cleans and preps his skin. When she finally applies a stencil, his heart is hammering so hard his teeth are chattering.

The low buzz of the tattoo machine fills his ears with a click.

When the needles touch his skin, sweat instantly beads his neck. Adrenaline drenches his tongue and for one wild moment, Bucky panics. Wonders if this was a terrible idea, because what idiot asks for pain, seriously Barnes, what the hell is wrong with you, why’re you so stupid all the -

And then - oh.

Huh.

Interesting.

Wide-eyed, Bucky follows her careful strokes, black lines appearing on his skin.

It does hurt - sort of. Obviously nothing he can’t handle; in the grand scheme of his life, this would register as a minor inconvenience, but there is a pinch.

But that spark of pain vanishes, when the raw symbolism behind Steve’s design hits him full force.

Holy shit.

How many times through the decades did Bucky Barnes die? And how many times did he rise, born again from the frozen ash of oblivion? It was simply what the Soldier did. But it was a shadow-life, nothing more. Bucky never knew how close he was to giving up, until that day above the Potomac, Steve’s bloody face beneath his furious fists. He was so far gone, so lost and forgotten, until those memories cracked the Soldier’s fierce veneer.

And suddenly he was Bucky again. Awake and alive. For the first time in 70 years he felt fire in his soul. For the first time in 70 years he could breathe.

Tears inexplicably fill his eyes.

“All okay?”

Through a tunnel, Bucky hears her voice. Hypnotized by the metaphor inking itself into his skin, his head feels waterlogged when blinks up at her.

“Sorry?”

She scans his face, her thumb rubbing the pulse thrumming at his wrist.

“Everything okay?” She asks again and Bucky feels a potent rush of euphoria.

“Yes,” he says slowly. The excitement bubbles over and he lets out an ecstatic laugh. “Yes! This is incredible. This is - fucking hell, this is amazing.”

Chuckling to herself, she bends back to her task.

“So I guess we’ll keep going?”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Yeah, let’s keep going.”

Two hours later, the outline of the Phoenix is inked into his skin, crisp black lines like fresh paint. Long tail feathers are curled around his wrist, the lush feathered body splashed over his forearm, her wings spread open and curving around his arm, her head reaching toward the sky.

Born from ash. Alive again.

Bucky hates to cover it up, but she insists.

“Follow the cleaning instructions and it should be fine. We need to wait between the sessions, give you time to heal.”

At that comment, he fidgets.

“Actually, I heal pretty - fast.”

“I assumed you might. Usually I say 2-3 weeks between sessions, so how about you come back in 1 week and we can see. Let’s just make sure. Does that work?”

Bucky glances at the crisp white bandage on his arm.

“Okay, that works,” he says.

She squeezes his hand and he meets her eyes.

“You did great,” she tells him.

Bucky smiles in return. And he doesn’t stop for the next six days.

*****

When he walks into the shop for his next session, he carries a large coffee for himself and an extra large iced peach green tea for her. When he gets to the front desk, he thrusts the cup at her.

“Evening. Um, here. Saw you had one last time, so - anyway.”

“Bucky, thank you. I’ve been craving one all day.” She gives the straw an experimental bite, before taking a long drink and for some reason, the silly quirk makes his heart bounce.

After a quick check on how he’s healed, she declares him perfect and they get started, settling into a comfortable silence. After an hour of buzzing, Bucky clears his throat.

“Is it okay to talk while you work?”

“It is,” she affirms, dabbing at the ink. Glancing up, she sees hesitant blue eyes. “I’m good at listening too. Sometimes it’s nice just to listen.”

Bucky figures that’s a fair statement. He fiddles with a stray thread on his shirt.

“Do you read much?” He asks hopefully, picturing the teetering stack of books beside his bed. She perks at the question.

“I love to read. Have a pile of books on my nightstand waiting for me to find time. What about you? Are you reading anything good now? Any favorites I should know?”

Bucky swallows the happy surprise. If he could, he’d be content to spend the rest of his years with a comfortable chair, a cup of coffee, and an unending supply of stories. He could talk about books for days, he just normally keeps quiet, because most people aren’t interested in that facet of Bucky Barnes.

So he begins to talk.

He tells her how Natasha lent him all her Russian copies of Pushkin and Tolstoy and Dostoevsky, insisting that reading in the original language was infinitely better. He describes how he found a copy of Rumi’s poetry at a yard sale, and what an incredible treasure it was. He flusters recounting how much he cried reading ‘A Fault in our Stars’ and says he was scared shitless to even see a clown for a full year after reading Stephen King.

He talks and talks and talks, and when he finally stops to breathe, she glances up.

“It’s nice to hear a man who’s so well read,” she says and Bucky preens at the compliment. “Do you have an all time favorite? Something you never get tired of?”

A favorite? No question.

“Yeah, I do. Something I read during the war and kinda fell in love. It’s about here, I guess. About Brooklyn.”

At the description, her mouth quirks, but she keeps working.

“Did you ever think about a book quote for a tattoo?”

Now there’s an idea. He makes a mental note to think of a quote he could add as another tattoo. Or maybe another couple tattoos. Hell, one session in and he’s already addicted.

The comment tumbles free before he realizes he’s spoken out loud. He blushes at her laughter.

“It can be addicting,” she agrees. Bucky understands completely, seeing the vibrant crimson ink soak into his skin, painting the bird’s feathers. And then she pauses, meeting his eyes with a peculiar expression. “The right words can make you feel invincible.”

Setting the tattoo machine down, she rolls her chair back a bit and sits up straight. Lifting the hem of her shirt, Bucky sees a line of gold text inked below her ribs, his eyes following the flowing cursive.

“She was all of these things and of something more,” he reads aloud.

“‘A Tree Grows in Brooklyn’ is my favorite book too,” she says quietly. There is a long, unbroken moment where they stare into each others eyes. He should say something, he thinks. Something intelligent or witty or anything, but instead he just thinks about the fact that he found a woman in Brooklyn to permanently carve pictures into his skin and she has the same favorite book as him.

Bucky always was a sucker for fate.

“That’s - that’s really - I love that,” he finally says instead.

*****

A week later, Bucky arrives with a bundle of folders and an exasperated expression.

“This is really annoying, but do you mind if I finish some reports while you work? Got behind, someone’s gonna have my ass.” Bucky raises the papers apologetically.

“No problem,” she says easily. “Let’s keep your ass safe.”

Bending back to her task, Bucky snorts a laugh. They’re just a handful of mission reports, normally he types them soon as he returns, but lately he’s been slacking, because lately he has other things he finds more interesting.

Like the scene in front of him.

Together they work, each with their own pen. Bucky writes, she colors, and the clock on the wall ticks along. After awhile, she takes a break to stretch. Rolling her shoulders, she observes him.

“Are you left-handed?” she asks curiously and it takes Bucky a moment to think.

“Oh. Uh, not really,” he says. “But I can switch. Never been a problem.”

At the confession, she raises her eyebrows.

“That’s impressive. I wish I had a talent like that.”

He ducks his head at the praise. And he keeps writing, of course. Maybe adds a bit more flair. After all, the old Bucky Barnes did like to swagger.

*****

“Well, I think that’s it.”

It takes a beat before Bucky understands what she means. Confused, he peers up at her with a dopey expression and she gestures at his arm.

He feels his heart lurch.

It flames to life along his arm, painted in vibrant ruby red and rich crimson and deep plum, highlights edged in shining gold. Mesmerized, Bucky stares down at the lines of ink and he flexes, the tendons of his arm shifting, and the bird moves. For one wild moment, he believes if he stays still, it could leap from his skin and take flight.

It leaves him breathless.

“God, this is better - fuck, it’s so much better - than I ever imagined. How did you - wow. I don’t know how you did it, but - thank you. Thank you so much.”

Unanticipated emotion makes his voice tremble. Because this is the first time Bucky Barnes chose something permanent for himself. Serums and metal arms and bullets and blades, those were always forced upon him, his pleading refusals met with violence and sneering indifference.

But this?

This.

This is all his.

*****

TATTOO 2: BACK

“Wear your heart on your sleeve in this life.” - Sylvia Plath

*****

“So, uh, how exactly does this work?”

Standing beside the leather chair while she organizes her inks, Bucky wrinkles his nose. She looks up and motions for him to turn, straddling the chair with his chest pressed against the back.

“Are you comfortable completely removing your shirt? Or would you prefer to leave it part way on? I’ll just need it out of the way for the right side of your back.”

Bucky grimaces. Eventually she’s going to see his shoulder - he knows that - but he’s not in the mood to rip that band-aid off yet.

“Uh - let’s do part of the way if that’s okay?”

“That’s okay,” she confirms and he awkwardly tugs his right arm free, baring the broad expanse of his back. Tucking his arms in front of him, he slings a leg over the chair and rests his chin carefully on the headrest.

He says nothing, simply stays still while she absorbs the sight. Littered up and down his back are a litany of scars, puckers from the occasional bullet, thin lines from errant blades, and a few other marks he prefers not to define. His voice is muffled when he warily asks.

“Are you able to - work with it?“

“Absolutely,” she answers firmly and Bucky warms at the decisiveness in her tone. Her confidence makes him feel infinitely more positive.

This is the largest of his three tattoos, stretching from the tip of his shoulder blade and flowing down to his waist. It will also take the longest, but Bucky assures her he has no issue sitting perfectly still for hours.

It’ll be worth it. He can’t wait to show Sam - he’ll get a kick out of this one.

Once she applies the stencil over his skin, she goes to work, dropping into that headspace of deep focus. She works so quietly for so long, he falls into a trance, lulled by the melodic buzz.

When she speaks, it startles him.

“What made you decide you wanted a tattoo?”

He lays his cheek along the edge of the chair so he can see her from the corner of his eye when he answers.

“S’random, but back in ’37, me and Steve were out and I remember walking by this old tattoo shop over in Midtown. They had one of those big glass windows with the chair in front, so people could stand and watch. Anyway, we walk by and there was this kid sitting in the chair, and no fuckin’ joke, he was getting a big heart on his arm with ‘MOM’ written in the middle.”

“Ah yes, the ever popular ‘mom’ tribute. I’ve done a few of those,” she says and Bucky grins.

“Well anyway, I always kinda wanted something, you know? Thought about getting one before I shipped out, but I didn’t, and then it was - “ he pauses for a moment, but she encourages him with a questioning hmmm? and Bucky bravely pushes forward. “I had lots of years where I didn’t get to make my own decisions. And there was so much - bad shit that happened to me. Anyway, I guess I thought if someone’s gonna do something to me, I wanted it to be on my own terms. You know?”

“Yeah,” she murmurs. “I think that makes perfect sense.”

Bucky sits quietly, contemplating. The question has been rattling around his brain for awhile and it spills free before he can stop himself.

“The whole process, it feels sort of - intimate, doesn’t it?”

He flushes at the insinuation, but intimate is the best way to describe it, he thinks, this practice of someone permanently carving their art into your skin.

“It is intimate,” she says softly, leaning closer. “It’s almost like you’re - leaving a piece of your soul under someone’s skin? I don’t know if that makes sense, but that’s what it’s always felt like.”

Bucky nods, watching her capable, artistic, beautiful hands as they move, slowly transferring bits and pieces of herself to him.

What a gift. He holds on tight.

*****

It was bound to happen at one of the sessions.

It’s been dark and rainy for days, buckets dumped from the heavens, the perpetual grumble of thunder always near. When Bucky comes through the front door, he feels like a wet dog. He shakes out his jacket, stomps his boots. He feels off base tonight, the result of bad sleep, bad dreams, and one particularly bad mission. He’s frustrated with himself for bringing it with him, thinks maybe he should’ve cancelled, but the thought of skipping his session - both the ink and her - was too depressing.

So instead of holing up in his room and moping under the covers, he braved the storm.

The one inside and out.

Searching for calm, he licks chapped lips.

“Hey,” he says, cringing when his voice cracks.

“Hey, Buck,” she turns cheerfully, but when she sees him squinting at her through the droplets cascading down his face, his shoulders hunched and tense, she stops. Looks him up and down and her expression softens. Beckoning him back, she digs up a towel and a dry t-shirt with ‘BROOKLYN INK’ stamped across the front, ushering him to the bathroom.

“Take all the time you need. No rush.”

Bucky mumbles his thanks and shuts the door. Gripping the sink, he glares at the mirror, at the smudge of dark beneath his eyes, at the clench of his jaw. Closing his eyes, he breathes slow and deep.

“You’re okay. You’re okay.”

He repeats the mantra, determined to settle. He’s been eager for this session all week, he’s sure as hell not ruining it because he can’t get his idiot brain to stop spinning.

When he finally emerges, he finds her arranging her work space. Halting in front of her, he keeps trembling hands stuffed in his pockets, eyes downcast.

“I’m afraid I’m poor company tonight,” he admits quietly.

“That’s okay. We can reschedule, Bucky,” she says softly and Bucky feels the disconcerting sting of tears. He rubs the heel of his hand against watery eyes.

“If it’s okay, I’d - I’d rather go ahead. Been looking forward to seeing you - uh, seeing you work, all week. It was just - “ he pauses and fights the temptation to spill his guts. No, he snarls internally, she doesn’t need to hear all your shit.

He clamps his mouth shut and shrugs instead.

She says nothing, but when she gives his hand a comforting squeeze, Bucky feels that familiar surge of gratitude. She guides him carefully toward the chair and he slumps into the seat, automatically tugging up his new shirt.

“Just close your eyes and breath. You’re okay.”

Bucky rests his chin on the edge of the chair. Troubled eyes flutter shut, and the comforting buzz of the tattoo machine fills his ears, muting the sound of the storm raging outside. When he feels the prick of the needles, he lets out a weary breath. And when he feels the easy pressure of her fingers, he begins to relax.

For hours, she works. Firm strokes, painting the story across his skin.

The dark night begins to fade before she finally sets her tools aside. When he climbs to his feet, she pulls him into a gentle hug.

Bucky sinks into her arms.

That morning, the sun begins to shine.

*****

Bucky’s been sitting for a couple hours now, eyeing the brick wall behind the chair. A question pops into his head and he feels like a jerk for not asking sooner.

“Hey - all these hours together, and I never asked you - what made you want to draw on people for a living?”

She hums at the question, and he can hear the happiness in her reply.

“Well, I always wanted to be an artist. For my eleventh birthday, my best friend Mike gave me this set of gel pens, there were a million colors. When I told him I wanted to be a tattoo artist, he let me draw pictures all over him for practice. He insisted on being the first person I inked, once I got my license. Would always tell people he was the ‘original canvas’ for my brilliance.”

When she laughs, Bucky chuckles with her; it reminds him of Steve.

“Sounds like a good man,” he says.

“Yeah, he is - he was,” she quietly corrects herself. “He was an EOD specialist in Afghanistan. Right before he left for his last tour, I drew up plans for the arm sleeve he always wanted; he planned to get it when he finished. A month later, he was in a convoy that was moving through the Gereshk Valley in the Helmand Province, when an IED hit his vehicle. He didn’t make it home.”

The story hits home like a kick in the face.

Too many soldiers, too many lives. Bucky reaches back to still her hand. He slowly turns to face her, gently tugging the tattoo machine free and setting it aside. Wordlessly, he offers his hand and she accepts it gratefully, weaving her fingers through his. It takes a few attempts before she speaks again.

“It took me a long time to get through that. One day I met a friend working down at the VA, and I heard a vet talking about the scars on his legs. He sounded so - sad about them, you know? Kept saying he didn’t recognize himself anymore. And I just stood there thinking, maybe I couldn’t help Mike, but I could still do something.” Staring resolutely down, she considers her fingers still entangled with Bucky’s. “I did some research and took some classes and - learned how to tattoo on scar tissue.”

Bucky gazes at her. He feels a sweep of pride at the way she turned her tragedy into something beautiful.

“I’m so sorry that happened,” he says and she finally looks up, meeting blue eyes bright with compassion. “But you should know, what you’re doing for people, it’s incredible. And if you don’t mind me saying, I think he’d be real god damn proud of you.”

A tear slips down her cheek and she ducks her head, her whisper so low he nearly misses it.

“Thank you Bucky.”

*****

Hours later, Bucky hears a clatter of tools and her huff of relief.

“All done.”

Wiping her hands, she pops excitedly up from the stool and Bucky pushes back from the chair to follow. Without a thought, she grabs his metal hand, tugging him impatiently over to a set of floor length mirrors along the wall. Bucky grips tight and obediently follows, his pulse racing. When she positions him at the mirror, she adjusts the panels so he can see himself from all angles.

“There, have a look.”

Along his spine, the single metal wing bursts free, so intensely realistic, Bucky’s jaw drops. It arches gracefully up, curving over his shoulder blade and sweeping down his back, razor sharp feathers tickling his rib cage before billowing out above his waist. Made from silvers and grays and shaded hints of midnight blue, it glows in the light. When Bucky reaches toward the sky, the muscles shift beneath the ink and it creates the strangest sensation of feathers unfolding.

All the scars littering his back, a flesh and bone patchwork of memories left by vicious handlers and fights too close for comfort, have disappeared. Blending into the steel of his new wing, their only purpose is to strengthen the image.

After all this time, he’s come to terms with the metal arm so unwillingly gifted all those years ago. But it’s remained a relic of a past life, something heavy, to drag him down.

But now, he rolls his shoulder back and his new metal wing lifts him higher than he’s felt in a long, long time.

*****

TATTOO 3: SHOULDER

“I can bear any pain as long as it has meaning.” - Haruki Murakami

*****

“So our last session.”

“Our last session,” he murmurs.

Bucky thinks for a moment that she seems glum, but maybe that’s wishful thinking.

“This is a tough one,” she warns, “but I think we can do it in one session. I won’t try and cover them up, it won’t work. The best solution is to incorporate your scars into the design. Make sense?”

Bucky pictures the pattern Steve drew, bright green leaves and vines tracing the seam of his arm, melding with the thick ribbons of raised tissue. It doesn’t matter, but he timidly asks anyway.

“Will it hurt?”

“No,” she says gently. Pressing her hand to his galloping heart, she shakes her head. “It won’t hurt much there, but you need to tell me if it hurts here. You need to tell me if I should stop. Remember, you’re in charge, okay?”

“Okay,” he whispers.

Steeling himself, he whips off his shirt, balling it up in nervous hands. The cool air blowing through the shop is a relief for his overheated body.

“Do you mind if I feel the skin here? So I can make sure I approach it right?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Bucky mumbles. Staring at his hands, he waits.

Leaning close, her fingers brush over him, feeling the lines and ridges, assessing the canvas. For ten minutes, she tests his skin, lightly pushing and pressing, observing the scars and bumps where metal meets man.

“Does it still hurt?”

She doesn’t want to ask, but needs to know what she’s working with. With a grim smile, he shrugs.

“Not really. Aches sometimes, but doesn’t hurt. Can’t feel much there besides some pressure.”

Nodding, she pinches her lip. “I was thinking last night, um - would you want to add anything else into the design? Nothing big, but a few flowers? Some daisies maybe?”

“Sure, I’d like that. Any reason for daisies?” Bucky asks curiously.

Pulling out a few additional bottles of ink, she absently touches the necklace at her throat, and Bucky sees a silver daisy spinning.

“Daisies represent new beginnings. Thought it might be a nice way to end, if you like?”

Does he like it? The idea of having this small thing in common?

Hell yes he likes it.

Maybe - maybe he even more than likes it?

“Yeah. That sounds perfect,” he says softly. He swallows hard and she nods encouragingly.

“Okay. Remember - stop me if you need a break.”

This one, Bucky knows will be hard. It was the reason he left it to the end - the mental fortitude required here is much different.

As she begins, he contemplates the pink furrows gouged into his skin. The memory of how they got there flashes before him, a sick image of shredded skin raked bloody beneath his blunt fingernails. Faint screams of a past life echo in his ears, the smokey cry of his own voice desperate for relief from the pain.

Cold sweat slides down his face and he slams his eyes shut, but that seems to make it worse. The images glow technicolor bright, and he grunts a frustrated breath.

And then, through the thin latex of her glove, he feels her cool hand press against his pounding heart. Cracking an eye open, he finds her calm face and he focuses on her, until his breathing begins to ease. Blinking rapidly, he drinks in the curve of her nose, the shape of her mouth, the beauty of her eyes.

His heart stutters, stunning him into a different kind of breathless.

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, wide eyes locked on hers. “Yeah, I’m okay. You can keep going.”

When she bends back to her task, Bucky melts. It occurs to him, that perhaps if she might let him, he could be content watching her forever.

But for tonight, this forever lasts only a few hours before she’s done.

And there it is.

Shades of green line his shoulder, the vines curling and winding around his scars, blending them seamlessly into the foliage covering his skin. Spidering vines trail across his chest, and it seems incompatible in a way, something alive bursting from the stark metal, but the leaves look so real, he swears they flutter with each breath he takes. Strewn throughout the greenery, small splotches of yellow and white reveal her daisies and he sucks in a breath.

For the first time in his life, Bucky stares at his scars and a foreign word comes to mind, one he never, ever thought to use.

“Beautiful,” he breathes. “They’re beautiful.”

*****

And so, after 3 months and 30 hours together, they were done.

Hands in his pockets, Bucky gazes at her. Ink on her hands, ink on his heart. It hits him then, this is it. They shuffle, making small talk, neither ready to say goodbye.

“Promise you’ll come back if you decide on anything else. Tattoos, piercings, anything,” she teases and Bucky laughs.

“Told you, I might be a little addicted,” he admits, knowing full well he means to tattoos and to her. “Soon as I can think of a reason, I’ll be back.”

“I hope so,” she says. There is a brief moment where she seems to gather her courage and then she leans in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “You’re a work of art, Bucky, but - you were before any of this. Remember that.”

Dazed, Bucky touches his cheek.

Indelible and perfect, the tattoo of her lips inks itself straight onto his heart.

*****

When she arrives at the shop the next day, there is a new sight sitting on the front desk.

Daisies, their white petals and yellow faces as fresh as the afternoon sunshine filtering through the window. Bemused, she looks around the bustling shop and spies the card propped beside the overflowing vase, her name scrawled across the front.

“When I got home, I stood in front of the mirror for hours, staring at your artwork. Every time I told myself to go to sleep, I found something new I loved. The tail feathers on my Phoenix or the petals of your daisies. What you’ve given me is more than I ever hoped - I can never thank you enough.

But anyway, I remembered what you said - how this kind of art is like leaving a piece of your soul under someone’s skin.

Well, I won’t lie - you must have done, because I miss you already.

So at the risk of being forward (although I did break into your shop and leave this, so maybe this won’t seem that forward), would you have dinner with me?

I think there’s another new beginning waiting out there, if you’d like to find it with me.

Yours,

Bucky”

At the bottom of the note, a phone number is printed.

Brushing her fingers over the delicate white petals, she pictures him, that dark haired man with eyes like blue ink, so heartbreakingly beautiful inside and out. She feels the unconscious pull of her heart, telling her all she needs to know.

A new beginning.

She says yes.

*****

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #SSB2020 #bucky fic #bitsmasterlist #tattoos #tattoo trope

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bokettochild · 3 years

Note

That drabble was amazing, I love it. I'm also a greedy little crow and want to see the rest of the chain reacting to Leg's insane Leg Strenght. You don't have to make an entire drabble for it unless you want to, I'm just curious.

Not exactly where I was headed with this, but it happened, and I like it well enough.

I hope you enjoy, Anon!

Legend Thunderfoot Part 1

Four hasn’t stopped grinning like a mad man ever since the Yiga incident.

They have switched Hyrules twice since then, and Four still can’t look at him without a grin stealing over his face.

He’d like hat to stop.

So what, he can kill a man with his legs, everyone can do that! Okay, maybe not Four, but the smithy is short (Legend is too, but that’s beside the point) so it makes sense that he hasn’t done so before. But Twilight? The man who could probably sling Epona over his shoulder and still manage a light jog? Legend has no doubt in all of Hyrule and the lands beyond that Twilight could probably kill him just by knocking into him wrong.

Oh heavens, the mere thought of Time or Twilight accidentally knowing into him when they’re in battle is something he fears more than anything. He knows he’s weak, knows that he can’t lift a pot of soup or basket of washing without the use of an item. He knows that every muscle in his arm will scream if he picks something up, knows to never let the others touch his sword because they’ll probably launch it into space just by trying to pick it up.

But Four seems convinced that this isn’t the case. The smithy doesn’t even know how weak he is, in fact, he’s convinced himself that Legend is strong, for whatever reason, and as much as it’s nice not to have any of the others mock him, and to have someone admire him, he knows it will only last so long.

He hoped it would last a little longer though.

“Seriously?” Warriors rattles the bar of their cell. “Why even- why?”

“The royal guards hate me.” Legend drawls in response. He doesn’t even bother looking up from where he’s seated on the stone floor. “It happens from time to time.”

There are looks sent his way, but they aren’t anything he hasn’t seen before. “How do you get out?”

He shrugs. “Wait for them to be stupid, an item, sometimes I just chill until Ravio bails me out, it’s the closest thing you can get to a vacation around here.”

And he’s going to ignore the concern and pity in the gazes of the others as Twilight and Time both make worried noises.

“Considering those are not options,” Time muses. “What else do we have?”

The rancher kneels before the door, looking across the floor and the door itself. Legend wonders what he’s looking for; a passage? A dropped key? Such things aren’t likely in these circumstances, and the last time it had happened it had been because his guard dropped a lockpick for him on purpose (heaven’s bless Raven).

“No good.” Twilight sighs at last. “Last time I broke out of prison I-” The rancher cuts himself off sharply as heads spin his way, and Warriors graces him with a disbelieving and yet also disappointed look.

“Prison? You too, rancher?” Warriors crossed his arms and leans back on his heels. “I thought better of you honestly. Why?”

Twilight’s face says everything and nothing, eyes exhausted and full of regret as Wild and Wind both stare up at him with curiosity. “War of Twilight. I was captured in the war. I wasn’t in prison for committing a crime, Warriors, honest.”

“What kind of lock do we have?” Wind interjects, only for his face to fall and a light swear to escape at the answer he’s given. “I haven’t learned that one yet.”

Disregarding that statement, one that’s both worrying and comforting (because kids shouldn’t need to know these things but he’s glad Wind does anyway) he turns his gaze around them to stare at the rest of the cell. It’s been a while since he’s last tried to escape one of these, and the castle guards haven’t actually caught him in years, so things have changed since the last time.

His attention is drawn back to the group when Warriors shakes his head and motions at the bars. “Any chance of budging those? Smithy, you know about metal and stone, right? Care to take a peek?”

Never mind that Four isn’t the only smith in their group, but honestly, he doesn’t need that title as well.

“It’s moveable,” Four responds, after a few minutes of poking about and peering closely at where the metal rests in the earth. “A hard enough blow and it should move.”

He hates that Four’s eyes travel to him, but the others don’t seem to notice, instead each taking a turn and trying their hand at pushing and pulling against the metal bars. There’s harsh screeching as the metal drags across the ground. Slow, oh so painfully slow as Twilight pushed with all his might, only to fall back with a strained frown on his face and sweat pouring off his brow. “Anyone else got anything?”

Four’s voice is slow and expectant and, at the moment, entirely unwelcome. “Legend, how about you try?”

And seven sets of eyes turn to him expectantly, joining with the weight of Four’s blue as Legend glares back at all of them, a flush rising up his neck and dusting his cheeks as an irritated squeak escapes (he hates not being able to growl like Twilight can, he really does).

“Can’t.”

“Why not? Can’t hurt anything.” Wind pushes, oblivious to the shame that’s overtaken his companion.

Legend glares at Four, who looks positively smug as he grins back. “I’m-” He hesitates to say it, he really doesn’t want to admit it, he really doesn’t. But there are eyes on him, and they are waiting, expectant and not a little frustrated as they wait for him to answer already.

A huff breaks past his lips as he pointed grabs at one of the chains lying loose on the floor and fails to effectively pick it up.

He hates making a display of it, hates showing how weak he is, but it’s better than admitting it out loud, even though his face reddens and sweat beads as he finally heft the links of chain up a few inches off the ground.

“Har har.” Warriors mocks. “We’re being serious, Legend, we need out There's a whole camp of monsters we left unattended to out there and the longer we’re in here the more work it will be to find th-” Indigo hues cut him off as Legend glares.

He hates being weak, but being disbelieved is arguably worse. “I. Can’t” He raps out, sharp and pointed and angry. “I’m freaking incapable of lifting Wind, much less moving that shit. I-”

“Kick it.”

Sven sets of eyes and Time’s single eye all turn to a very smug looking Four, who has eyes only for Legend as he motions towards the bars.

“What?” He has no words, no answers, why would Four tell him to kick a bar he’s already said he can’t move?

“There’s no harm in trying, right?” The smithy presses, eyes twinkling indigo themselves, the faintest hint of plum at their edges. “Kick it.”

And, well... he can’t really compete with that.

It’s embarrassing as shit to walk up to the bars he can’t move, that he knows he can’t move, and still know he has to try. It’s worse that the others are watching, but Legend has never been one to do things half-assed, so he swings all the force he can into his kick and watches in absolute astonishment, along with all the others, as the bar comes crashing down to the ground with an echoing clatter.

Eight heroes stare in shock as Four calmly makes his way through the new exit, a smirk on his features. “See? Told you it would work.”

Legend appreciates the confidence Four has in him, but the ‘have Legend kick it” jokes didn’t stop for weeks and he’s going to make sure Four knows just how irritated he is with him for that.

Drop kicking the smithy across a cavern makes up for it though.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu legend #lu four #paradoxal strong legend #idiot writes crack #asks and answers #asks

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extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years

Text

innocence - 27

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: none

A/N: my god i really took a whole month to write this. i am sooo sorry, but i was a bit stuck with the narrative. thankfully it’s moving forward. hope you enjoy xx

NEXT CHAPTER

Y/N watched him walk up to his bag to removal a navy blue square box. She furrowed her brows, leaning on her hands on the worn out duvet from her teen years as he sat by his side. His cheeks were dusted pink, lip stuck between his teeth as he handed it to her. Y/N merely looked at him like a child who knew nothing of the object that had been placed on top of her hands. All she knew was that it was in her hands and felt more expensive than the homemade present she had manage to hid under all her chunky Christmas outfits Bucky deemed unnecessary. He was nervous, heart pounding under the several layers of clothing he was wearing to protect himself from the cold. Rebecca had warned him to be careful, maybe to thread around lightly as she could be freaked out. His pace seemed to slow down as he walked up to the bed were she was so innocently and calmly looking at her. It’s gonna be fine, Barnes, man up, he told himself.

- You don’t have to accept it. I just ... I thought you might want it.

- Bucky, you’re rambling. - she cocked her head to the side, giving him a teasing smile as he sat by the bed. - The only reason someone should be so nervous is if they’re proposing.

- Uhm ... - he rubbed the back of his neck as he set the box on the bed. All the colour drained from her face and she put her hands in front of her mouth.

- Are you proposing? Gosh, did I ruin it? Oh my I ruined a proposal, again.

- Not quite. - he gave her a toothy grin. - And when did you ruin a proposal?

- Long story. - she rested her chin against her hand.

- Well, when my ‘ma died she left me and Rebecca a lot of stuff. - he opened up the old blue velvet box to show a small pearl necklace laying against the padded black satin fabric. - She left me this ... outta all things. Said I should give it to a nice girl someday but I’d never met a nice girl until I met you ...

- Bucky. - her lips almost pouted as she tried not to get her emotions get the best of her. It was nothing special, it was really nothing special but to hear him, the man she was so hopelessly in love with, say she was a nice girl was making her heart beat faster.

- You don’t have to wear it ... it’s probably too old and ... well I just wanted you to have them. My dad gave it to my mum before he got shipped off and I thought I’d give them to you ...

- Wait, you’re not being shipped off, are you? - she wrapped her arms around his neck. - Because if you did good news first and bad news last, I’ll be very upset.

- No, no, no. I’m not being shipped out ... I think I’m to old for that. - he chuckled. - The point is, he gave it to her as a labour of love and I want it to give it to you as a labour of love too. Except without the shipping off.

- Bucky, it’s beautiful. - she looked down at the box. - And it’s not too old.

- It’s over a hundred years old.

- You’re over a hundred years old. - she gave him a teasing look, kissing the corner of his mouth. - Maybe I fancy things over a hundred years old.

- Yeah? - he smiled at her. - Do you wanna put it on?

- Can you help me? - she handed him the pearls, turning around to face the mirror in front of her bed. Bucky draped the small pearl string around her neck, clasping it at the back before putting his hand on her shoulder, his head resting in the curvature between her neck and shoulder. Her finger traced the imperfect circular shapes of the pearls, soft smile on her lips. - Bucky, they’re beautiful. Thank you.

- Thank god you like them. Sam’s been in my head all day sayin’ you’d think they’re too old. - he kissed her neck as she laughed. - Besides, I didn’t really know what to give you. I can’t really give you the moon.

- The moon sounds like it’d take too much space in the house. Can you imagine? I live in a one bedroom flat, I barely have space for me and my thoughts.

- Stop it. - he held her chin to turn her face so he could kiss her. - You know, missy ... you still owe me for that stunt you pulled in the airplane.

- You know I would love to finish it ... - she threw her legs over his. - But I have to go with my mum tomorrow morning to pick out last minute gifts and she is an early bird.

- Uhm ... you torture me. - he wrapped his arms around her. - But I’ll let it slide this time.

Bucky couldn’t sleep that night, he stood up all night looking at her; the way the moon illuminated her skin against the dusty blue sheets, the pearls drapped over her beautiful skin. Bucky thought in that moment he was the luckiest man in the world and that maybe it was all worth it. Maybe falling from the train, becoming HYDRAs fist, Zemo, wars, everything ... maybe it was worth going through all of that because if he hadn’t gone through all of that, he wouldn’t be what he was today and he wouldn’t have met her. It was worth knowing it, it was worth having her. He remembered his mum reprimanding him every time he’d break up or start seeing yet another girl “James Barnes, you gotta stop playin’ around and find yourself a nice girl who you love and loves you back for who you are”. He didn’t believe her, he knew why girls were into him, or into the uniform so he didn’t really believe someone would want to stick around with him being a soldier. But Y/N, Y/N loved him with that and even all his nightmares and trauma. He couldn’t help but want to keep her safe despite that being what his job entailed, and it made his blood boil whenever he thought back to how someone had broken into her place, into her safe space. It made him more upset he hadn’t figured out who done it. Not even Steve or Natasha found any clues, it was almost as if it never happened but he had pictures, he had pictures of that word written across the mirror.

He could not stop thinking about it, he couldn’t sleep about it. He hadn’t been able to sleep in a while, afraid something would happen to her while he was asleep. He had failed to protect her, someone had gotten into her home and god... something could have happened and he wasn’t there, he wasn’t there to defend her. He couldn’t even do his job right. He couldn’t protect his girlfriend.

Bucky stood up all night until the early morning when the clock shone 7:30 AM. She moved around, signalling she was more awake than asleep. He smiled, kissing her forehead as she opened her eyes.

- Morning, princess.

- Buck, you need to sleep. - she said in her cute sleep filled voice. - It’s too early for you.

- I don’t need sleep. Super soldier, remember, doll?

- That can’t be right. - she rose up from the bed, rubbing the sleep off her eyes. - You sure you’re okay being alone? I could ask my mum ...

- Go have time with your mum, princess. I’ll be fine, promise you.

- Do not let my sisters give you any trouble. Or my brother ... or any of my sister’s husbands. You know what? You’re allowed to cuss them out if they do.

- I’m sure it’ll be fine. - he watched as she got dressed and covered into layers upon layers. He had forgotten how cold England was. - You don’t have to worry.

- Yes I have. They’re very persuasive, they’re lawyers. They will convince you to do things you don’t even want to do with you noticing.

- I’ve been through mind control before, I’m sure I can handle it, doll face.

- Doll face? - she smirked. - That’s a new one. You sure you’re not trying to butter me up so I finish what I started.

- Nonsense. - he got up from her, slowly walking up to her, hands resting upon her waist as he whispered against her ear. - It’s not like you need any buttering up isn’t it, princess?

- I ... - her face grew warm at the thoughts that filled her head.

- Y/N! Honey, are you ready? - her mother’s knock on the door, followed by her opening it just the slightest bit interrupted her sex filled thoughts. - We don’t wanna catch a confusion.

- Yeah, mum. Just saying bye to Bucky.

- Oh, Bucky ... there’s breakfast downstairs if you want. The boys are all up, maybe you can socialise.

- Mum ... - Y/N said through a tight smile as the three walked from the bedroom into the hall.

- You worry too much. - her mother ushered down the stairs to the door where her father was leaned against, waiting. Y/N kissed Bucky goodbye before being pushed out of the house.

Bucky couldn’t say he was particularly comfortable. It wasn’t that her family wasn’t nice, they were as inviting as one could be but he barely knew them and the last thing he wanted was to scare them off or leave a bad impression. After all, there wasn’t a lot of his family Y/N had to impress and whatever was left of it she had left a great impression but her family, well, her family probably did not expect a 100 year old soldier bodyguard dating their actress daughter. Yet again, who does?

He walked into the dinning room where most of her family was sat down happily eating breakfast until they became aware of his presence. Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, ready to mumble an apology before Aunt Petunia was grabbing him and seating him down on one of the free seats.

- So, Bucky, what do you want to eat?

- Uhm ... just black coffee is fine. - he spoke and as fast as he did, a cup of coffee was in front off him.

- Don’t you want anything to eat? Oh, is this a super soldier situation where you cannot eat? Is it because you’re a 100? Honey, do you need any medication?

- No, no, m’am. I’m just not a breakfast person.

- Uhm, I see. Did you sleep well? I couldn’t sleep all night with Sophie ... - Petunia looked at Claire who rolled her eyes at her. - Crying all night.

- I’m sorry that we can’t control when a baby cries, Aunt Petunia. - Claire replied before returning to feed some crushed banana to her baby.

- Babies. - the old woman rolled her eyes, before redirecting her attention towards Bucky. - Do you want them?

- Pardon?

- A baby. You want a baby right? Y/N has always wanted babies ... of course she keeps forgetting she won’t be fertile forever.

- Uhm ... I don’t know, Y/N and I haven’t really discussed having a kid.

- I don’t wanna know about that. I wanna know if you want a baby.

- I don’t know if I can have a baby. - he sighed, looking at any of Y/N’s siblings for help.

- What do you mean you don’t know?

- Bucky. - Claire interrupted her aunt. - Do you mind getting the mail? We haven’t checked our post box since we arrived and it’s probably pilling up.

- Yeah. - he got up from his chair before he could be asked any more questions.

Could he have a baby? He didn’t know; Steve couldn’t and Steve hadn’t. gone through all the brainwashing and shock therapy he had gone through. Besides, he refused to know and he didn’t really care about it. Why would Bucky Barnes, an ex murderer for HYDRA, want to bring a kid into this world? No, the world was better off this way and he did not want to know the answer anyway despite the idea of a family haunting his fantasies. Thankfully Claire had saved him and for that alone, he was almost certain she was his favourite sibling out of all. Checking the post wasn’t too hard and surely no one would ask about his family planning on the way to the post box.

He let the door behind him as he passed through the snowy ground until the postbox which, despite most of Claires belief, was quite empty except for a few postcards, bills and a particular letter that caught his attention. He looked around before putting the rest of the mail under his arm and started to inspect the letter. It had no stamp, no sender, not even an address, just Y/N’s name in the front written in cursive. Bucky knew he shouldn’t open her mail but he just didn’t trust it and as he ripped through the envelope, his suspicious heightened.

You cannot hide, whore.

taglist: @disasterbii @lookiamtrying @buckysteveloki-me @americasass81 @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @lostinthebeans @mariahthelioness29 @bbabysbaby @peaches-roses-sins @theadorasabditory @sipsteacasually @saiyanprincessswanie @booktease21 @noiralei @learisa @everythingisoverratedbutgreat @uglipotata72829 @naturalthrone22 @husherstan @mandiiblanche @vicmc624 @newyorkgoddess @itsallyscorner @chipilerendi @emzd34 @writerwrites @bluevxnus @that-girl-named-alex @captnrogers @nsfwsebbie @sarge-barnes-sir

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

HASO, “In the Ambience.”

Had a conversation on discord last night where I became aware that I left Sunny and Adam’s interactions at a place where it was sort of nervous and awkward. So thank you DZ for talking that through with me.

I am not really well versed in writing relationships, and I didn’t want it to overshadow the rest of my writing, so I pulled back from it, but I think I pulled back too hard. So if you care about the Sunny/Adam dynamic, I wrote a story this morning to acknowledge that. Hope you like it, and I hope you all have a great day.

She got up in the dark, with only the dim ambience of soft blue lighting to accompany her. She stretched all four arms, and rolled her neck. It struck her as mildly interesting in that moment, how something so small could connect them to humans, The thought was fleeting as she took another step forward to kneel down on the floor. There, in a little alcove in the wall, she had set a volcanic rock from Anin, dried moss, and other paraphernalia from her home world. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath resting her hands together.

Praise and respect to the spirits of Anin. Praise the fathers and mothers of war gone to their rest below the moss and the earth. Praise their spirits that watch from the sky and peer through the ether down upon us.

She continued the slow mantra in the style of Prayer learned from Naktan and pulled her concentration to her core ignoring anything and everything around her. A deep state of meditation overtook her. She would never have done this if she thought there were any chance that she was in danger, but below she knew Earth glowed like a sphere before their orbiting ship. There was no worry of invasion.

She thought she heard something at one point, but chose to ignore it as she continued her mantra.

Eventually, and after an unknown amount of minutes, she stood and turned slowly to find-

She stopped, and crossed her arms over her chest.

“What are you doing.”

Adam burrowed his way further down into her blankets nuzzling his head up against her pillow, “So warm, and comfy!”

She tried not to smile, “You dumbass.”

He pulled the blankets tighter around himself, “You know, I did come here to talk to you, but I actually really am comfortable, so come back in two hours.”

“I-”

He closed his eyes and pretended to snore loudly.

She rolled her eyes as she watched him theatrically pretend to sleep. She looked around mildly for a moment before picking up another pillow and glancing at the door. She casually walked over, dropped the pillow on his head and then held it down as if she intended to smother him.

That got him up and moving.

Before long the two of them were grappling for the upper hand, him trying to put her in a choke hold, and her using her lower arms to pinch him.

He yelped, “Ouch! Pinching is illegal.”

“SIssy.”

He clamped his legs around her lower arms pinning them in place. SHe struggled for a minute and then went limp.

SHe could feel his smug smile, “I win, I beat the saint of Anin. Everyone bow at my feet.”

“You say that, but if this were a real fight, you’re the one with a self destruct button.”

“Self-destruct button…?”

“Meaning if this were a real fight, I would have punched you in the balls.”

“Please don’t”

Finally he let her go, leaving the two of them to lay on her bed, sheets scattered on the floor around them, and her pillows in disarray. Adam put his hands behind his head and sighed.

She glanced over at him, “I don’t suppose you came to just hang out. Here on Admiral-ly business?”

He groaned pulling one of her pillows over his face, “Please smother me for real this time.”

SHe leaned up on one of her elbows, “Why?”

“I don’t wanna be an adult anymore,” She tilted her head to the side watching in amusement as he attempted to throw a childlike tantrum, but only really had the energy to kick his feet once, “It’s boring and lame and they wont let me wear heelies to important meetings…. Children don’t have to pay taxes.”

She laughed, pulling the pillow from his face, “Adam you are many things, but ‘adult’ is not one of them.”

He grinned slightly, “True enough.” He sighed again and rested his head back against the pillows, “I just want to get back to what we are supposed to be doing, exploring the universe and making cool alien friends.” He threw up his hands in frustration, “But Suddenly I find myself embroiled in stupid annoying politics that I don’[t understand, being used by people who are, lets face it, WAY smarter than me, constantly finding myself getting manipulated.”

She huffed, “They aren’t smarter than you Adam, they’re just manipulative, and you aren't.”

He sighed, “Fair enough.” Then he looked at her, bright green eyes reflecting the soft ambient blue light, “I just, I miss this, I miss us, I miss hanging out and doing stupid shit, and all of the things I could do when I wasn’t so important and this operation was smaller.”

She smiled rather sadly reaching one hand over for his, lacing the four of her fingers through the five of his, “Well someone has to do the hard things, who better than you.”

He glanced over at her raising an eyebrow, “Or you, miss saint”

She rolled her eyes again, “Can’t seem to get you off of that. I’m still the same person I used to be.”

“But with power.”

She elbowed him gently and he grinned, “But really, I am proud and impressed and…. Let's be honest super super smug that ‘I’ know you personally.”

“I know, I am pretty terrific.”

The two of them laughed for a minute before settling down again. He glanced over to her little shrine on the wall, “What were you doing just then?”

She looked up at the ceiling, following the lines of metal and rivets with her eyes, “Praying to the spirits of Anin.”

Embarrassed, he shifted, “I didn’t know you were….. Well I didn’t think you were all that religious?”

SHe shrugged, “Don’t feel bad, it’s sort of a new thing. Back before all this, it was sort of just stories to me. Like I believed it because that was what everyone believed, but I didn’t really accept it, or feel it the way I do now. After everything with my mother, it was hard to feel connected to something I felt I wasn’t a part of….. But then after visiting my mother, after becoming a saint for a religion I never really followed…. Well it started to make more sense. It feels real now in a way that it never did.” She turned to look at him, finding him watching her, the UV blue stripes in his skin glowing blue.

“I believe in the spirits of Anin more than I ever have.”

He smiled at her and squeezed her hand, “I’m glad to hear it.”

They lapsed into silence for a long moment staring up at the ceiling before, inevitably he broke it, “So this makes you like, space Moses.”

She frowned and turned to look at him, “What is a Moses?”

He grinned, “A guy from one of the Earth Religions. You know guy follows god’s directions to lead his people away from slavery, climbs a moutain, recieves the word of god, comes down to give it to the people, that sort of thing.”

Sunny tilted her head slightly to the side, “Are you religious?”

He paused, frowning, “I…. well I…. don’t really know. My family has been some flavor of Christian for a long time.”

“Christian?”

“Uh yeah, The general idea is that there is one all powerful deity who created everything. He has rules and laws that you are supposed to follow, The general tenants of this specific religion mostly boil down to, love everyone and don’t be a dick, which humans are notoriously bad at. You sin you go to hell, a very bad place after you die, and if you are a good person you go to heaven. Problem is everyone is a sinner and breaks the rules, so really no one was going to get into heaven.”

“That sounds bleak….”

“Well that's where the other stuff comes in. Basically this all powerful deity sent down his son in human form to live a perfect life, so when he was martyred he took on the sins of all of humanity and paid for them in the greatest act of mercy to open the gate for the rest of us into heaven.”

Sunny shifted as he tilted to the side to lay in the crook of her arms, “Of course that is just one religion among tons on earth, we aren’t really as cohesive in our beliefs as Drev are….. As for me…. I’m not really sure.”

She tilted her head to the side, cheek resting against his hair, “After seeing space, I become more and more convinced of some….. Thing that created everything, but beyond that it's sort of a tossup.”

She ran one hand through his hair, course but still soft somehow.

“You know my name comes from that religion.”

She turned her head to look at him, “Oh.”

“Adam was the first man.”

“WHat do you mean.:”

Adam shrugged, “He was supposedly the first man that god created, from the dust of the earth…. I think?”

She gave him a sidelong glance, “Look, and you get to be the first idiot in space.”

He snorted and poked her in the ribs.

“There were PLENTY of idiots in space before me, believe you me.”

“Mmm I don’t know, you are pretty dumb.”

He laughed, grabbing a pillow and hitting her with it. She rolled over so she was lying on top of him and then went limp.

He struggled, “Get your big ass off me.”

“Oh no, I have been attacked by a sudden acute case of the, my spine doesn't work anymore disease.”

“If you don’t move, you’ll suddenly find yourself with a case of fist in your face disease.”

She laughed and rolled off him, making su7re the hard parts of her carapace were sticking down for maximum discomfort.

He grunted.

They returned to lying down next to each other in the half darkness. Sunny reached over and turned on some quiet music in the background as the two of them sat and talked, and laughed.

“I can’t wait to get back to deep space.” He closed his eyes and hummed softly at the thought, “Just the crew and the darkness and nothing ahead of us but an endless frontier.”

Surprisingly, she found the thought to be more than a little comforting, and closed her eyes thinking about the vast reaches of blackness and the endless spinning galaxies.

“And while we are out we can drop Conn into a pulsar.”

He snorted,

“That billowy bastard would survive and you know it.”

She huffed, “Still though, if I have to hear one more smug lecture how he has a child with you, I’m gonna wring his scrawny neck.”

He grinned teeth flashing blue in the light, “Is someone;.... Jealous?”

Sunny laughed, almost tipping him off the bed and onto the floor with her mirth, “Yes Adam, I am totally jealous, really I am. I mean who wouldn’t want to have a child with YOU, big dumb, dork. Really the perfect place to put my superior genes.”

“Superior genes, says someone who can’t reach the top shelf.”

She kicked him foot clanging off his prosthetic, “I am a foot taller than you.”

He placed his hand next to his ear, “What was that, I can’t hear you over how short you are.”

Sunny shook her head, “At least I have binocular vision and both my knees.”

“And weird neck nostrils, don’t forget about those.”

“Oh yes so I can house them on my face like you and your bigass nose.”

“Low blow, low blow.”

“There are…. Lower things…. I could make fun of.”

He snorted, “Can’t make fun of it if you’ve never seen it. You on the other hand, walking around in the nude.”

“You’re welcome. Who wouldn’t love.” Sse gestured to herself, “This.”

“Mmm yes,.... chitin , very sexy.”

“I am a gift to the universe, and should be appreciated by everyone.” He brushed a hand through his hair, “Well I find that real gifts are gift wrapped, so jot that down.”

“Oh yeah, like a prank gift when you put something lame in a box for something cool.”

He frowned at her, “You wound me,. My feelings are so very very hurt. I might even cry.”

“I drink human tears.”

“That, that’s really gross.’

She laughed and then they lapsed into silence. She could hear him breathing quietly next to her in the darkness, his chest rising and falling under the ambient blue light. She looked across the room to where her saint armor was hanging in it’s climate controlled case illuminated to a pearly sheen.

“Adam.”

“Yeah.”

“You know I’m just kidding about calling you dumb riught.”

“Yeah I know.”

“I’m proud of what you’ve been doing.”

Adam turned to look at her rather incredulous, “Me, of what? I haven’t been doing shit.”

“So we are just going to ignore you overthrowing a maniacal politician while simultaneously piloting a 2,000 year old spacecraft?”

“That was more Conn and Eris than it was me,”

“It was your idea.”

“Lets not forget Admiral Kelly.”

Sunny pulled him closer, “I am sorry, I will not be accepting anything other than you acknowledging that you did a good job.”

“Screw you.”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you.”

He sighed, “You’ve been talking to Ramirez WAY too much.”

She was only slightly smug as she rested her head back against the pillow, “I really should get up and train.”

“We should.”

Neither of them movies.

“Alternatively we could just…. Lay here…. All day and do… nothing .”

She looked up at the ceiling for a long moment and pretended to be in deep contemplation before “Well it’s official, you have convinced me. You and your silver tongue.”

“I am a master negotiator.”

He shifted position putting one arm behind his head, “Think about it, by this time tomorrow we will be back to space exploring and doing what we should have been doing all along. I can’t wait.”

“That makes two of us.”

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solangelover · 3 years

Text

"Look Both Ways First, Kids!”

Submission Prompt: Hello…I just thought of this prompt and love the way you write. Will is an elementary school teacher as a side job and his classroom habits slip out while talking to Nico and the others. Like when they go out in a group, Will is like: ‘Okay now everyone hold your buddy’s hand.’

A/N: I’m going to tweak the prompt a bit since like, elementary school teacher is not a side job LOL. So now we have a mortal AU with teacher!Will, grad student!Nico (not that it matters), and they’re hanging a mix of friends (I always do Cecil and Lou Ellen so I’ll try to mix it up more haha). (YO I’VE HAD HALF OF THIS WRITTEN FOR AT LEAST A YEAR SORRY)

Read on AO3 or FF.Net

“Bye, Mr. Solace!”

Will enthusiastically waved goodbye, his last student filing out of his classroom. Man, second graders were really just adorable. Also, very messy. Will turned his gaze upon the desks covered in glitter and paper scraps and sighed. Nico did tell him that this particular art project was a bad idea, but how else was Will going to teach the kids about the states in the US if they couldn’t cut them out and color them?

Will began the arduous process of cleaning up, humming lightly to himself. He had to actually get his gum scraper (yes, he always had it on hand even if gum was not allowed in school) to get glue off the desks. After vacuuming as much glitter out of the carpet as possible, Will dusted himself off and headed to a faculty meeting.

He came back to his room to find his boyfriend wiping down his desks. He let out a noise of surprise, startling slightly in the middle of the doorway. Nico looked up, a slow smile spreading across his face as he stood up from where he was leaning over a desk.

“Hey, Sunshine,” he greeted. “I see you went ahead with the glitter.”

Will rolled his eyes but didn’t respond to the jab, electing to walk over and throw his arms around the dark-haired man. “What are you doing here?”

Will leaned back to see Nico’s face as he started speaking. “We’re going out, aren’t we?”

“It’s like 4:00! Isn’t it kind of early?” Will untangled himself from his boyfriend after giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

Nico shrugged. “Jason said I should just get you from school. You know how he’s like an old man now and he sleeps early.” They both laughed in agreement. Jason got some government job out of college that fit his regiment of rising early and hitting the ground running. While he used to be able to hang with everyone late into the night, starting his career flipped his “adult switch” and he became “less fun,” in Leo’s words. Piper doesn’t mind much since Jason’s routine has helped steady her often turbulent schedule. She had started a small fashion company in college that really took off in the past year, meaning she had meeting after meeting with various people and often had no consistency between her workdays. Jason and Piper’s daily lives were drastically different, but they did good to balance each other out and keep each other grounded.

“Did Leo say he was coming?” Will asked as he began putting things away and shutting his windows.

“Yeah, I think so. And he’s bringing Calypso too.” Leo’s small mechanic shop had a few loyal customers, which was enough to make Leo content with his life. Then, as he tells it, a beautiful goddess waltzed into his garage covered in grease and dirt smudges, claiming to have broken down nearby and was in need of help. Leo said she gave him a decent rundown of what she found wrong with her car and was ecstatic to find that she was spot on. He was in love and, while it took a bit of charming and annoying, Leo convinced her to go out with him a few months ago.

“Oh, that’s good! I like her,” Will replied enthusiastically.

“I can’t believe she puts up with him,” Nico said in a flat voice.

“Don’t be so mean, Neeks,” the blonde said as they made their way out the door. “They’re good together and you know it. Besides, she teases Leo just as much as he does to everyone—“

“Probably why he’s whipped,” Nico cut in.

“Oh my gosh,” Will rolled his eyes as he grabbed Nico’s hand, swinging it between them.

They continued to talk and joke as they got into the car and drove downtown, where they were meeting their friends for dinner.

Once they parked and were getting out of the car, they heard a shout behind them. “Looks like the love birds finally made it!”

Nico rolled his eyes and replied without even turning around. “Don’t even talk, Pipes. You know you’re the queen of sappy romance.” Will could see the smirk on his boyfriend’s face as he rounded the car to stand next to him.

They turned in time to see the Piper’s offended expression as she strode up to them. “Excuse me,” she scoffed. “How dare you make such an accusation against me when we all know Jason is the mushiest one and he’s standing right here.”

The aforementioned blonde only sighed exasperatedly, knowing he never wins this argument. Then, a shameless grin grew on his face as he snaked his arm around his girlfriend’s waist, tugging her toward him. He shoved his nose in her face and crooned, “And don’t you forget it.”

“Woah, Jason, where’s my loving embrace?” an indignant voice cried out to their right. Will turned to see Leo walking hand-in-hand with a beautiful girl, her caramel-colored hair blowing back lightly in the breeze. Her cheeks were tinted pink as she giggled, watching her ridiculous boyfriend ramble on about being Jason’s first love and how no one cared about him around here.

Jason, ever the gentleman, immediately turned to Calypso to introduce himself, prompting everyone else to do the same.

“Leo’s told us a lot about you,” Will said politely. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you.”

“I’m glad to be here,” she said good-naturedly. “Leo’s told me many stories about you all, though I feel like they were a bit… embellished. I know for a fact that he isn’t a smooth, suave hero at all times.” She shot Leo a look that caused his cheeks to darken, even as he placed a hand on his chest in mock exaggeration. Nico was right—he was whipped.

“Oh, don’t worry. We have an endless list of embarrassing things Leo has done. We’ll fill in the gaps he probably left out,” Nico cut in. In all honesty, getting back at Leo for anything and everything he’s ever done to him was probably what he had looked forward to most about this dinner. Will couldn’t hold him back if he tried.

Before things could escalate any further, Will gestured toward the road. “Let’s head toward the restaurant before we spend the whole evening insulting each other in a parking lot. I like to have food with my entertainment.” He winked at Calypso, who laughed as she nodded in agreement.

The group mingled together, conversing loudly as they made their way toward the edge of the lot. Nico had clearly considered jaywalking across the street to the restaurant, but one stern look from his boyfriend had him pivoting to the nearest crosswalk.

Will pressed the crossing button and turned toward the group as they waited. They all continued chatting, not really paying attention to where they were going. He glanced at the crossing sign, hoping everyone could at least look forward when they stepped into the street.

When the sign lit up and his friends hadn’t moved, he spoke up on instinct. “Everyone, grab your buddy’s hand; we’re crossing the street!”

The chatter stopped, and Will blinked as all eyes stared back at him. “Um…” He glanced again at the sign, which was now counting down their seconds. Technically, you weren’t supposed to enter the road at this point, but the timer was still high. However, none of his friends seemed poised to move, so maybe he’d have to hold them back before they ended up sprinting across the street. “Are we—?”

A loud snort to his right cut him off. Will turned his head to see Nico doubled over in laughter. “You—” he tried to start, but he couldn’t hold his laughter in long enough to even form two words.

Soon enough, the others started laughing too—Leo and Piper, rather loudly, and Jason and Calypso, a bit more politely, the latter holding a hand over her mouth as her shoulders shook. Will continued to look confused, part of his mind still preoccupied with the light they were missing.

He replayed the last few minutes in his head, then promptly turned red as he groaned. His friends only laughed harder when he buried his head in his hands.

“I just want to cross the street,” he lamented through his fingers.

“But, Mr. Will,” Leo exclaimed. “You forgot to tell us to look both ways first!” He had tears gathering in the corners of his eyes from how much he was laughing. Honestly, Will thought they were all overreacting.

“Oh, come on! It wasn’t even that funny!” he cried.

“Will,” Jason started, in a consoling tone that the teacher did not think was warranted in this situation. “You didn’t hear it like we did.”

“You used your teacher voice!” Nico finally caught his breath enough to speak, though Will kind of wishes he hadn’t. “It was all high and cheery and—” He wiggled his fingers in an effort to express Will’s tone.

The blonde man turned back to see the light had changed, the red hand now mocking him and preventing him from leaving this conversation.

“You’re a teacher?” Will found Calypso looking at him with genuine curiosity in her eyes as the other four calmed down from their fits of laughter.

“Yes,” he sighed heavily. “And we had a field trip the other day. And I came straight from the classroom today.” He gazed at the others around him. “I guess I forgot I wasn’t dealing with second graders.”

Calypso carried on over the noises of indignation from the others. “Aw, second graders, how cute! Tell me about it!” Bless her, this saint of a woman, engaging in conversation and pushing Will’s slip-up away. It was a kind gesture and Will ran with it.

He quite literally turned his back on the others as he described what his day of geography and glitter was like to the woman.

In the next minute, when the light changed and the crossing sign lit up once more, he felt a hand slip into his. Nico was staring up at him, a grin on his face. “I call you as my crossing buddy.”

Will rolled his eyes. “Yeah yeah.” He looked to his other side to see the other couples also holding hands and smiling at him. The teacher rolled his eyes again and, before he stepped off the curb, brightly called out, “Look both ways first, kids!”

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bbyboybrock--archived · 4 years

Text

The New Hampshire House (Trap House Imagine)

Summary: You and the trap house boys decided to travel to New Hampshire for a week to film Sam and Colby’s new series. Trouble arises on the first night.

Written: 2020

Word Count: 2,250

Warnings: Swearing, murder, haunted house

Masterlist

Slowly sliding through the mist came a faint human-like figure and went into the new house. I shrugged it off as my imagination and helped the guys carry everything inside.

When Sam, Colby, Jake, and Corey invited me on this trip, the last place I expected to be was in a haunted house in the middle of nowhere in New Hampshire. I knew we would be doing the typical stuff for the week: haunted overnights, explore videos, and midnight rituals. What I didn’t know is that they lied to me about our lodging situation. I was told we were going to be staying in this nice Air BnB in a cute little neighborhood. They even showed me pictures. But when we flew in Colby announced to me, because he had already talked to everyone while I was asleep on the plane, that there was a problem with the original house and he had to book this one last minute. We’ve been at this house for about 20 minutes and let me tell you, Bradford, New Hampshire looks and feels creepy.

“Y/N, come in the living room, we have to talk.” I heard Sam shout from probably the living room.

“Coming!” I exclaimed. I walk into is what I think is the kitchen and spot Colby walks into a different room. I follow him and find everyone sitting around together.

“Y/N, we have to get a few things for this week and we need you to stay here and set up some stuff,” Sam explains when he sees me.

“What? No way! I am not staying in this creepy house by myself! Why can’t we all go or one of you stay we me?”

“We’re going shopping for food and supplies for the week. The rental is small and we need to get a lot of things.” Colby explains, patting the seat next to him for me to sit.

“Sure leave the four of you in charge of getting the food we’re going to be living on for the next week. You know what, I’m willing to put feminism back a few years for this. I’m the woman here and I’m probably going to be doing all the cooking anyway. I’ll go grocery shopping, Jake can stay home.” I sit on the armchair by myself and cross my legs; I’m not going out without a fight.

“Y/N, you know if we leave Jake, we’ll never get the deposit back.” Corey jokes.

“Fine, then you stay Ye Rock.”

“Fuck that, I’m not staying here.”

“Then why do I have to?”

“Please, Y/N, we’ll all owe you big time. We’ll be gone for an hour—two hours tops. We just need someone to charge the equipment and double-check that we have everything.” I throw my hands up and sink into the couch. There is no way I’m going to win this argument.

I wave goodbye to everyone as they pull out of the driveway. I scan the street one more time before locking the door. We’re really the only house out here. Nothing but dirt and trees for miles. If I didn’t know any better, I would think we were in the middle of the suicide forest. I check all of the equipment that Sam and Colby left behind for me to charge. I stay downstairs for 20 minutes after that before going upstairs to my room to unpack a bit. I close the door and start putting my clothes away.

Knock, knock, knock.

I go and open the door, knowing that I’m the only one home, to find nobody there. It’s probably just one of the guys trying to scare me. Maybe they wanted to get a prank video done and make me the subject of their torture. I close the door and go into the closet to start putting some clothes on hangers again. I see a box probably, from the owners, tucked away in the corner. I know I probably shouldn’t open it, I’m a guest in this house. But my curiosity gets the best of me and I get the desk chair and climb on it to reach the shelf. After a few misses, I grab the old dusty brown box. I blow the dust off and open it to find old newspaper articles about this house.

THE DAILY NEWS: MAN MURDERED IN HIS OWN HOUSE

Mark White (Age 37) was murdered in his home today. He suffered head wounds and had multiple stab wounds. His wife (Arianna White, Age 35) found him dead in the family room with the possible murder weapon. Police officers found no fingerprints on the evidence…

Out of all the houses in the area, Sam and Colby had to choose the murder house. They probably did this on purpose. I go through the box I see pictures of a man and a woman, probably Mark and Arianna, standing in front of the house. Then I pick up another newspaper article.

DAILY NEWS: WOMAN MURDERED IN HER HOME

Arianna White (Age 35) was murdered in her home today. She has suffered gunshot wounds to the head and chest. Mrs. White’s husband was murdered last month in the family room and his wife was found there dead. Her children found her dead when they came home from school and called 911. The family was in the process of moving.

They have to be fucking with me. There is no way that this group of people, the group that is always doing spooky shit, just happened to book an Air BnB where two—possibly more—people have died. On top of that, them leaving me home along with wouldn’t be a coincidence either. There have to be hidden cameras around the house. How did I find the one room in the house that conveniently just had this box in it?

“No, absolutely fucking not. Nope. Fuck you guys. I’m over this, you picked the wrong bitch.” I shout to nobody in particular and put the box back. I grab my laptop and head to my bed to binge the series I started yesterday.

I must have been tired because I fell asleep while watching the show. It’s dark now and the house is unusually quiet. I sit up and turn on the light to look for my phone. I grab it and unlock my phone to a text from Colby saying that they dropped off the groceries but had to head out for something. He said that they didn’t want to wake me up, so they left without me and would come back with dinner. I rolled my eyes and head downstairs. I pass by the thermostat on the way down and turn on the heat. For the middle of summer, it’s oddly cold.

When I get to the kitchen I check to see what the four dumb asses managed to get us for provisions. Surprisingly, they got things that we can have for actual meals, on top of snacks. I grab the stovetop popcorn and begin to make it. I turn around and hear a loud crash behind me. The bags on the dining room table were now on the floor.

“Y/N,” I heard a faint voice say. This has to be a prank. They guys have to be home and hiding filming me somewhere.

“Get out of our house, Y/N.” Now I hear two faint voices one sounded like a man and the other sounded like a woman. This getting weird. Maybe they hired a woman to help prank me. Or maybe one of them finally nailed their fake woman voice.

“You guys can stop now! I’m actually scared so you won. You come out and welcome me to the prank war.”

“Nobody’s here, Y/N. No one is going to help you.” The voices are getting closer.

“I’m never doing another video with any of you, ever again. If you don’t— if you don’t come out right now I’ll move out.”

“Then leave!” Something else falls somewhere else in the house, causing me to scream and jump back into the hot stove. If it’s not the guys, then the ghosts of this house are still here holding a grudge against their killers. I start getting goosebumps and the hair on the back of my neck as I turn off the stove.

“Sam, Colby, Jake, and Corey you better fuck off right now!” I yell as I start running to my room. This house is huge it’s easy to get lost.

While I’m running things are flying and falling behind me. I’m going to kill them when I see them. After what seems like forever I finally get to my room. I lock the door and slide my back down it. I grab my phone from my back pocket and dial Colby’s number. As I call, I feel things getting thrown at the door.

“Hello—”

“Are you guys fucking with me right now?” I ask as I move myself to the closet.

“What do you mean? We’re not even home right now.” He sounds only mildly panicked, I don’t even know if he’s faking or not.

“Cole Robert Brock, are you and your asshole friends somewhere on property pulling a prank on me?” The banging on the door stopped and I poked my head out of the closet door.

“No, we’re on our way home from a witchcraft store for some ritual ingredients that we couldn’t find at the store. What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know, things are weird here and I’m over—” A loud bang at the door causing me to scream louder than I think I’ve ever done in my entire life.

“Oh, shit. Okay, we’ll be right there.” I hear Colby and everyone else running in the background. I don’t know if it was my scream or if they heard the bang in the background, but now they’re done fucking around.

Colby stays on the phone with me while I go back to hiding in the closet. A few minutes later I hear footsteps approaching my door. When the footsteps get close enough, that when the loud banging started up again, causing me to scream.

“Oh, fuck, sorry. Y/N, it’s just us, open the door.” Colby says on the other line.

I take a few deep breaths and open the door to reveal my idiots, scared out of their minds. I drop my phone and wrap my arms around Colby. I didn’t even realize I was crying until Colby hugged me back and started stroking my hair. Normally, I hate it when he does this because his rings get stuck in my hair, but right now I just need this hug from my best friend.

“What the fuck happened to the house?” Jake asks, breaking the silence.

“What do you mean? It was your guys’ prank.” I pull away from Colby and look at the four of them in disbelief.

“Uh, not it’s not. The box in your closet, the stuff in your bathroom, and the two dummies outside are our pranks. All this other shit was all you.” Corey says, picking up broken glass and dropping it on the floor.

“No, it wasn’t. Do you honestly think I’m that good of an actress? I broke character like two months ago when I tried to convince Sam that Colby fell into a ditch the last time we did an overnight. Do you genuinely think I could sit here, screaming and crying for fun? Or that I would somehow have the time to break all that shit and stage the knocking on my door.” I wipe my face and step back to finally let the boys in my room.

“She’s not wrong guys, she does share a brain cell with us. I don’t think she could pull this off. She didn’t even know we were coming here until this afternoon and she can’t think that fast.” Jake says before flopping himself on my bed.

“You know what Webber, I may be scared, but I’m not scared to throw these hands—”

“Guys! Let’s think about this. Couldn’t it have been an earthquake or something? Or the movement of Y/N running. It’s a pretty old house.”

“It can’t be an earthquake dude, I’m pretty sure New Hampshire hasn’t unlocked those yet,” Corey explains.

“Okay, first of all, Sam I’m pretty sure you called me fat but I’ll deal with that later. Second, Corey, you’re so fucking stupid, I swear to God. I’m constantly worried about your well being. And thirdly, Colby either you’re sleeping in here with me or I’m sleeping in your room with you because I refuse to sleep alone tonight.” I explain, sitting down on the floor.

“Wait, can we talk about this seriously. If none of us set up this prank, then who the fuck did. Do you think the owners of this house are doing this? Because if they are, I vote we get the fuck out right now.”

“Why would they even do that?” Sam asks, now joining me on the floor.

“To scare us before they murder us, brother,” Jake says jokingly from my bed.

“Will you shut the fuck up?” Corey says from the door.

“Can we be serious for one second—” Sam is cut off by the lights going out, covering us in a deep velvet of pitch black. Not even the windows are helping. All five of us scream but dare not move.

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

62. you set off the fire alarm and I have a test tomorrow, and I might strangle you

Sternclay, sfw, please!

Why do fire alarms only go off in March? The one time Stern set one off (he fell asleep studying and the dinner he was reheating started smoking) it was in that endless stretch of time where the snow is no longer festive but will keep falling for at least two more months.

More importantly, who is responsible for interrupting his carefully planned out six hours of sleep before his midterm at eight this morning?

He stands in the freezing cold with the building’s other three occupants; the single man who looks like he stars in lumberjack porn and the girlfriends who live on the ground floor.

“Sorry” The other man mumbles, “I was making doughnuts and the oil I was using got too hot without me noticing.”

Stern runs a hand through his hair and keeps his voice low, “Why were you cooking with hot oil at three in the morning?”

“When I can’t sleep, I bake.”

“Can I suggest a less flammable hobby in the future?”

“Hey man, it was an accident. And it’s not my fault they stuck the fire alarm too high up for me to get to it before it called the fire department.”

“Too high? You’re taller than I am and I can reach mine.”

“My ceilings are higher and it was tucked between the cabinets and the roof.”

“Oh yeah, ours is in a super-weird place too.” Aubrey, one of the ground-floor neighbors, pats the offenders arm, “it’s okay Barclay, it’s just a little smoke.”

“That may be the case for you three, but I have an exam that’s worth thirty percent of my grade in six hours and I need my goddamn sleep.”

“Yeesh, man, chill out. They’re already waving us back in.” Aubrey points to the door of the three story house.

“I timed everything to optimize my sleep schedule so it actually is a big deal.”

Barclay glowers at him, “Look, I said sorry. But maybe get used to the fact the world doesn’t run on your schedule, mr. control freak, and fucking get over it.”

Stern keeps a smile flat as he bites out, “go to hell” and heads upstairs to salvage what’s left of his schedule.

-----------------------------------------------------------

The crash from downstairs comes at nine p.m; he has a huge day at his internship tomorrow, but Stern doesn’t hear any sounds after it, and he is not about to let a neighbor die on his watch.

“Barclay? Are you okay?” He puts his ear to the door, the heater drowning out all ambient noise.

“Nope, not really, agh, fuck, the doors locked, lemme try to stand-”

“Stay put.” He runs upstairs, grabs his wallet, and uses his debit card to trick the lock, “Shit, what happened?”

Barclay is clutching his forehead, blood between his fingers, and his ankle is swelling. “I got really dizzy, caught my foot on the couch and then my forehead on the table on the way down. Ow, fuck, it better not be broken” he growls as Stern kneels to look at his foot, “I’ve got a shift in six hours.”

“I can’t tell. You should get to a hospital; if it’s injured and you try to work on it, you might have an even worse fall.”

“Fuck, I’m not even sure I can afford the ambulance, let alone the fucking E.R.”

He knows Dani and Aubrey are out, “Any family in town, or a boyfriend?”

“No, if there I woulda called them.” He snaps, then tries for a slow inhale, “sorry, it just, it hurts-”

“I can take you in my car, that’ll be one less worry.” Stern helps Barclay up, gets him to his sedan, then tells him to hold tight while he gets something for his head. He ends up grabbing the first clean fabris he finds, which is how Barclay ends up in the E.R while holding a “Roswell, NM” tank-top to his forehead.

“Sorry to ruin your, uh, souvenir?” He mumbles as they wait for the doctor.

“It’s for a good cause. Besides, I know how to get bloodstains out of fabric.”

“That...that makes you sound like a serial killer.”

“If I were a serial killer I would wear things that could stain.” Stern winces, “sorry, I read too many true crime books.”

“I just don’t have the stomach for them. I like fictional mysteries but real ones?” he shivers, “makes me think an axe murderer is gonna break into my place. I mean, you did it with a credit card.”

“If you’d had the chain thrown it might have been another story. “

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Barclay shifts in the plastic seat, “you, uh, you don’t have to hang around. Know you got a rigid schedule.”

Joseph runs a hand through his hair, “I’m sorry for being so annoyed last week when you set off the alarm. I’m not always great at handling changes.”

“To be fair, doughnuts probably weren’t the best stress baking choice.”

“Did they turn out?”

“Nah. I’ll have to try ‘em another time. Did, uh, did your test go okay?”

“Yes. I, um, I got a perfect score.”

Barclay laughs, the sound like warm honey, and Stern blushes at looking so deeply nerdy in front of someone with a smile like that.

“Mr. Cobb? We’re ready to see you.”

The bearded man gives an slightly awkward wave as he follows the nurse through the double doors. Stern returns the gesture, pulls up the chess app on his phone, and settles in to wait until his neighbor is done.

-------------------------------------

Barclay comes out his nap the scrchh of a brush on tile. His first thought is that he’s so late for work he’s unavoidably fucked. His second one is who the fuck is in his bathroom?

His ankle twinges, jogging his memory; he got back from the hospital at 11:30, no stitches needed on his head but bedrest required for his ankle. He’d been contemplating how to convince his manager to let him shift from the warehouse to somewhere he could sit. Joseph raised an eyebrow and asked for his phone while telling him to go get into bed. All Barclay overheard was a polite, steely voice mentioning the labor laws in Dane County and how it’d be a shame if someone were to arrange an OSHA spot check. The last thing he recalls before falling asleep was Joseph telling him he had the next day off.

That doesn’t explain the cleaning sounds, though.

“Oh, you’re up.” Joseph pokes his head in from the hall. His hair is coming loose from his usual slicked-down style and he’s in a V-neck and sweatpants instead of the suit Barclay sees him in most days, “I hope I didn’t wake you; since you gave me the spare key I thought I’d check on you when I got back from my internship and leave you some take-out from the Thai place around the corner--you said the green curry was your favorite--but then I thought I should wait until you got up to see if you needed anything, so I, um, I cleaned your tub while I waited for you to wake up.”

Barclay isn’t sure what part of that is the most baffling. Or the most touching.

“Why the tub?” He eases his legs over so he’s sitting on the edge of the bed.

“It’s satisfying. And I, um, I clean when I’m stressed.” He wipes his hands on the rag in his front pocket, “I was worried about you, and my internship was murder today. They’re mounting a case against one of the biggest employers in the state and everyone’s on edge.”

“Heh, kinda makes me glad I work at WalMart.” Barclay takes the crutch Joseph offers him and hobbles into the kitchen, “oh, uh, if you want to try some cake, there’s leftover cinnamon spice cake in the fridge.”

“I think I will, thank you.” He bends into the fridge and wow has his ass always been that nice, “can I grab you a drink from in here?”

“One of those pre-bottled Kahlua things in the door; have ‘em for a friend but one sounds good right now.” He watches Joseph open it for him, setting it down before he pulls out Barclay’s chair for him. Normally, the kind of fussing and light ordering around Joseph has directed at him makes him bristle. This last day, it just made him feel safe and cared about.

He could get used to this.

----------------------

“Good lord, we’ve even got a flood warning.” Joseph sets down his phone as rain attempts to pummel the house to dust, “Some days I wish we lived closer to one of the lakes but this is not one of them. Should we check to see if Dani and Aubrey need any emergency supplies for if we have to shelter here? I always keep more than I need.”

“Nah, Dani’s got a strong self-sufficiency streak; got her a bucket emergency kit for Christmas last year.” Barclay pops the cork on the Pinot Grigio they got for dinner, “and I don’t think they forgot your semi-drunk promise that if they ever had to run from a flood they had full permission to break open your front door to be safe on the third floor.”

“I meant it, drunk or no.” Joseph takes down the plates and portions out the carbonara; he’s been trying to cook when he has time, both because he likes it and because it gives him and Barclay something to talk about. Not that they need the help.

Things changed after the trip to the E.R; Barclay would bring Joseph fresh cookies or pie. Joseph would offer Barclay rides when their schedules overlapped. Barclay introduced him to his favorite trivia night spot. Joseph took some of his cookies to a worker-owned bakery where a former co-student worked, which led to Barclay getting a new job.

Now they see each other almost every day, whether that’s watching movies on Barclay’s cramped couch or joining Dani and Aubrey for board game night.

He’s pleased with how the pasta turned out, even more so with the fact that when their legs bump together beneath the table, Barclay doesn’t pull away.

They’re on the couch, chatting about the recurring themes in ghost movies, when the storm starts in earnest. The sky is so dark it may as well be nine at night, the lighting and thunder performing a cacophonous two-man show across it. The closer the thunder gets, the more Barclay tenses.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah” a thunderclap makes him jump, “I know it’s silly but I fucking hate thunderstorms, I have since I was a kid.” He chuckles, “my mom would always end up making a pillow fort for me to hide in.”

“We could do that now.” He offers, tapping his foot against Barclay’s own.

“Know this might be hard to believe, but I wasn’t always six-two.” The other man teases.

“Don’t count me out just yet. Wait here.”

It takes some precarity and most of his thumb-tacks, but soon he’s waving Barclay to come join him.

“Holy shit” Barclay laughs as he sees the bed and part of the floor in Joseph’s tiny bedroom are curtained in blankets, “do you ever half-ass stuff?”

“No one can ever prove I haven’t.”

“Uh huh.” Barclay climbs into the fort, “that’s Joseph speak for ‘no.’”

Joseph plugs in his UFO lights and follows him in, “I’ve failed plenty of times.”

“Not on this. Man, this is gr-” A thunderclap makes him jump, nearly knocking one blanket down, “uh, maybe if I…” He lays on the bed, Joseph deciding it’s the least awkward option to join him in that position.

“You really didn’t have to do this.” The green of the lights add a charming tint to Barclay’s eyes.

“I wanted to.”

His friend looks away, keeps his gaze on his feet as he murmurs, “How come you’re always so nice to me?”

“Because we’re friends.”

“It’s, uh, it’s not because you want something from me?”

“Of course not. Barclay,” he touches the cooks arm, “anything you’re thinking is a favor with an ulterior motive....well, it isn’t. It’s something I did to look out for you.”

“What if I, uh, I didn’t think it was favor hunting and was, uh, a different word that started with “F’?”

This time, when the thunder sounds, Barclay nestles closer to him.

“Oh, Barclay” he drapes a protective arm over his waists, “I didn’t mean it to be. At least, most of the time. There were, um, sometimes when I was more flirtatious than I’d have been if it were anybody else.”

“Do you...want to flirt more?” Barclay mumbles into his shoulder.

Joseph tips Barclay’s chin with his hand, brings their lips together as lightning flashes through the window. When he pulls back, Barclay’s eyes are wide. He kisses him once more just to see if he can make them entirely pupil, then whispers, “I hope we can do more than just flirt.”

“Joseph” strong arms slip below and across him, “fuck, babe, if it’s not flooded tomorrow, promise you’ll let me take you out tomorrow?”

“I’d like nothing better, big guy. In the meantime..” he rolls so Barclay is atop him, “I have some thoughts on how to keep your mind off the storm.”

#sternclay #agent stern/ barclay #meet ugly #taz amnesty

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hellowkatey · 3 years

Text

Ghosts of the Past: the continuation

A continuation of what happens after Obi-Wan sees Nield twenty years after Melida/Daan. Anakin finds out his former master's rough apprenticeship beginnings, Obi-Wan faces some unexpected consequences of his past when Ahsoks gets hurt, and Nield addresses some regrets.

Read ch. 1 here | Read it all on AO3

Anakin is in the middle of combing droid parts and blaster dust out of his hair when there's a knock at his door. Considering Ahsoka is having a sleepover with Barriss, he just spoke to Padmé and she is at her apartment waiting for him, and Obi-Wan is supposed to be on a campaign, he has no idea who could be showing up at his door this late at night.

Watch it be a council member giving me some random task that'll ruin my night with Padmé.

The door buzzes open, and he's surprised to find it is indeed a council member ready to interrupt the night with his wife. The council member being Obi-Wan.

"Obi-Wan?"

"Hello to you, too, Anakin."

"Aren't you supposed to be in the middle of a battle?"

It looks like he's just walked off the battlefield. His robes are dirty and singed in places where blasters blew right through the material. He at least took off his armor, but from the dirt still smeared across his cheek, that's pretty much all he's done. Anakin's confusion quickly turns into concern. It's unlike Obi-Wan to show up anywhere looking rough for wear, even if it's just to see him. The knight's worry raises as he realizes his master grips a handle of Corellian whiskey in his right hand.

"Ended the battle early," he says distantly. His eyes are a little glassy and cheeks tinged pink. "Are you going to invite me in or do you want your dinner in the hallway?"

"Dinner?" Anakin looks to his former master's other hand and realizes he's also holding two bags of Dex's take-out. "Oh. Right, sorry," he steps back, and Obi-Wan strides into his apartment.

He's acting weird. That as much is obvious. Anakin tries to brush up against his master's shields to get a feel for his mood, but they're tighter than usual. Another red flag.

"The 212th was granted a week of leave before our next campaign," Obi-Wan explains, setting down the bottle and bags on Anakin's table. Anakin slips into his usual chair as Obi-Wan sets a bag of food in front of him. "Their's starts tomorrow, but Cody took over the debriefing so I could make it back early." Obi-Wan sits now, unwrapping his own burger. He stops when he realizes Anakin is still staring at him, food untouched. "What, do you not order a double burger and curly fries anymore?"

"What's going on?"

The Jedi Master raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean? Can I not come visit my former padawan?"

"Are you seriously going to act like you aren't being weird right now?"

"I'm acting as I normally do, Anakin."

"You left the front early and you started drinking without me. What's wrong, Obi-Wan?"

Anakin expects him to get defensive. Expects him to turn on Master Mode and lecture him about respect or whatever. But instead, Obi-Wan sighs and sets down his burger.

"I want to tell you a story, Anakin. A story that..." his eyes flicker to the bottle of whiskey, "requires a little bit of loosening up on my end."

Somehow him being honest is more worrisome than if he did get defensive and lie about it. So Anakin stops arguing with him, nods, and goes to the kitchen. He takes the moment to send his wife a quick message that he would probably not make it over for the night since Obi-Wan needs some company. Padmé will understand. Anakin returns with two cups, one with ice and the other with ice and some cola. He hands the one with only ice to Obi-Wan.

"You're freaking me out," Anakin says as he adds a small amount of the whiskey to his soda. How the hell can he drink this stuff straight?

His former master smiles. "No need to freak out."

"What is it about?"

"Well if you allow me to speak—"

"Okay, okay. Let's hope this story lives up to the suspense you've created."

Obi-Wan grimaces, taking a long swig of his drink before clearing his throat. "When you were a padawan, you used to always ask me about what missions I was going on when I was your age. Do you remember?"

Anakin leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "Yeah, but you never actually told me."

Obi-Wan shakes his head. "No, I didn't, I know. I always felt bad about not telling you. You were quite the pouter. But I convinced myself that telling you about my early missions would do more harm than good."

"You're freaking me out again, Obi-Wan."

"Just listen. Before the war started, there was a rule that younglings had to be chosen by a Master by the age of thirteen. If not, the youngling was reassigned to one of the other Jedi corps."

"Okay..."

"In my case, I was assigned to the AgriCorps."

Anakin leans forward as disbelief courses through him. "Wait, wh—"

"I aged out," Obi-Wan interrupts, not meeting his eyes anymore. Instead, he stares out the window beyond Anakin. "Qui-Gon considered taking me as his padawan but decided against it. In his words, I had too much anger within me. So the Jedi reassigned me to the AgriCorps on Bandomeer."

Anger? Obi-Wan? "That doesn't make sense."

"It's what happened," Obi-Wan whispers. "I began as a Jedi farmer, and Qui-Gon coincidentally came to Bandomeer for unrelated Jedi business. That in itself is a long story, but I was captured and Qui-Gon came to save me. He then decided to train me."

"Obi-Wan why didn't you tell—"

"This is the preface of my story. So you understand the context of what happens later." Anakin leans back again, biting on the inside of his lip with nervous anticipation. If this is just the background, how bad can the actual story be? "So Qui-Gon and I did not start on a good note. He had no interest in training another student. His last padawan fell to the Dark Side... and was actually the one who captured me on Bandomeer. Needless to say, he was wary of me in the beginning."

"But he warmed up to you, right? You and Master Jinn were close when I met you guys."

Obi-Wan presses his lips into a thin line, finally looking Anakin in the eye again. "Eventually, yes. We found common ground and he grew to be like a father to me. But due to my actions, that did not happen for a few years."

He pauses, taking another sip of his drink, and then gesturing to the untouched Dex's bag. "Your food is going to get cold, you know."

"I know." Anakin ignores the food.

"We were sent on a mission to Melida/Daan," Obi-Wan continues. "It was a planet in the midst of a civil war. The Melida vs. the Daan. Or, so we believed. We were there to retrieve a Jedi that had failed to check-in. She was trying to negotiate peace between these groups, but we discovered it was not just the Melida and the Daan fighting one another. There was a third group. All the children from both sides had left their families and formed their own side. The Young, they called themselves, and their mission was to bring and end to this multi-generational war."

Anakin vaguely recognizes the name Melida/Daan from his history classes but remembers nothing else about it.

"We found the missing Jedi. She was hurt, so Qui-Gon was eager to return to the Temple. But the Young were pleading for our assistance. He told me we couldn't help them. I disagreed, and we had an argument. So he gave me an ultimatum. Either I come with him, or I stay to fight with the Young."

Anakin's eyes grow wide. "Master, you didn't—"

"I stayed."

"But he came back right? He dropped off his friend and came back to help you!"

The silence that falls over the room says what Obi-Wan doesn't. The Jedi Master resumes staring out of the window.

"I fought with the Young for nearly a year."

"How old were you?"

Anakin doesn't like the pause that comes before his master's answer. "Thirteen. Fourteen by the end."

"You were a kid," Anakin mutters in disbelief.

"I was, but... I was one of the eldest. There were seven-year-olds who were wielding blasters. Eleven-year-olds were dying in bombings. Friends that I loved dearly died in my arms, and other friends found ways to blame me for deaths I could not control." Anakin can see the tears brimming in his Master's eyes. His own hands are shaking.

"Qui-Gon did come, though, didn't he?"

"We were so close to peace, but we were only kids. Warfare and diplomacy require different types of decorum. I called the Jedi to help us finally end things. The council sent Qui-Gon."

Anakin deflates.

"We negotiated peace. This time I returned to the Temple with him, but he was not pleased with me. I had made almost all of his worst fears about taking another padawan come true."

"You didn't turn to the Dark Side or anything, though!"

"I left the Order, Anakin," Obi-Wan lets out a shaky breath. "The council was reluctant to accept me back, but thank the Force they did. Qui-Gon on the other hand... He took me on a whim, and when I defied him it was like a slap in the face. I was placed on probation while he decided if he was going to continue as my master. Evidently, he eventually did forgive me, but it was a long, painful road."

Feeling constricted in his seat, Anakin stands, pacing into the living room. He's learned so much information so quickly. That his master almost wasn't a Jedi? Obi-Wan Kenobi, council member and Jedi Master was almost a farmer? Qui-Gon Jinn left his thirteen-year-old padawan in the middle of a war for a year?

It doesn't make sense yet he can feel his former master's anxious energy clouding the Force. He isn't lying. Anakin turns to the man waiting quietly for him to say something. Though he has so many questions, the first that pops out of his mouth is: "Why are you telling me this now?"

"We had a diplomat make an emergency repair stop on my flagship just before this last battle. A representative from what is now Melidaan."

"The... unified planet, then?"

He nods. "His name is Nield, and I fought alongside him in the war. It was the first time I'd seen him since. It was also the first time in years I'd really talked about the war out loud, and... I realized I've been ignoring this for almost twenty years now. I avoiding telling you because I didn't want you to be disappointed in me like Qui-Gon was—"

"Master! Disappointed in you? I would never—"

"You are so much like him, you know," Obi-Wan says with a wistful smile. The glossiness in his eyes is even more prominent as the alcohol starts to settle in.

"You think I'd leave you in a war zone?"

A soft smile appears on his master's face, "Technically you have. On a number of occasions, actually."

"Those were sanctioned abandonments."

Obi-Wan chuckles, wiping his eyes on the back of his sleeve. "You have all his best qualities, Anakin. And some of his more annoying ones, but I've chosen to forgive those."

The knight walks over to the window with his back to Obi-Wan, arms folded across his chest. He's still overwhelmed by this new information. Unsure of how to feel. Sympathetic? No, Obi-Wan hates it when people pity him. Angry? He has the right to be frustrated that Obi-Wan has been lying to him for years. Letting him believe that he was this perfect padawan with a perfect apprenticeship...

But the overwhelming emotion that is hitting Anakin is not pity or anger, but guilt. Because a part of Anakin has always held onto the secret belief that things would be different if Qui-Gon Jinn had lived. That Master Jinn would have understood him in a way that Obi-Wan just can't because he was model Jedi.

He's been wrong all this time.

Anakin is suddenly thrust back to a time when he himself was a padawan feeling the galaxy pull him in a different direction. He told Obi-Wan he was going to leave the Order after their mission. And Obi-Wan still stayed by his side. Still treated him the same and protected him. It was ultimately Obi-Wan's unconditional support that persuaded Anakin to stay with the Jedi. Would Qui-Gon have done the same for me?

For the last ten years, Anakin has told himself that Qui-Gon would have stayed by his side. Now, he isn't so sure.

"I'm sorry," Anakin finally says, slowly turning around. Obi-Wan is quick to rise from his seat and approach him.

"I did not tell you this so you pity me—"

"I'm sorry I doubted you," Obi-Wan falls silent. "And for all the times I pushed you away because I didn't think you understood what it was like to feel like a screw-up... Force, I was horrible sometimes! Why didn't you ever tell me?"

The Master steps closer, placing his hands on Anakin's shoulders. "I truly did not think it would help. Or that you would think I was discounting your feelings, and I would never want to do that."

"What about your feelings?" Obi-Wan swallows hard, obviously not expecting this sort of question. He squeezes Anakin's shoulders, smiling softly.

"I am still learning how to confront them. And this— confiding in you— is part of that process."

Anakin can't hold himself back anymore. He closes the gap between them, throwing his arms around Obi-Wan and hugging him tightly. And Obi-Wan does not hesitate to hug him back.

There was a time when Anakin was a young padawan when he believed his Master was the greatest Jedi who ever lived. Sith Killer with a silver tongue, Obi-Wan Kenobi. A valiant knight and an even better teacher. He's always looked up to Obi-Wan. Saw him as a father figure. Though that giddy feeling of pride for his Master faded as he grew, Anakin feels it now just as he did when he was ten. Obi-Wan is by no means the perfect Jedi he's always believed him to be, but Anakin prefers it that way. Somehow it makes him even better.

______

Waging battles in desolate landscapes was one thing, but when the fighting spreads to urban areas, Obi-Wan is always on edge. There is something fundamentally wrong with tearing through the middle of a city with tanks and cannons. It's so easy to distance oneself from the reality of war. Easy to see the tall buildings and duracrete streets as either cover or a tactical liability. Obi-Wan just sees family homes left vacant. Stores and restaurants ransacked and abandoned. The amount of desolation depends on the length and amount of resistance the locals put up against their Separatist occupation.

And this city has been under the thumb of the droid army since the beginning.

Tesha Prime was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Nestled in the middle of Separatist-controlled planets, it stood no chance of maintaining its independence. It's estimated they were under secret occupation as early as the Trade Federation blockade of Naboo, but their pleas for assistance were stifled until recently.

Obi-Wan one came to Tesha Prime as a padawan. One of Qui-Gon's side missions-- he enjoyed their specialty textiles and made a detour to purchase a friend a throw blanket. Its capital of Taloona was a beautiful city, advanced in technology but maintained the vintage glamor and elegance of their Old Republic architecture. Walking the streets now, it pains his heart to see crumbled buildings and durasteel military structures taking over the once picturesque skyline. War has tainted the rich history of this planet. Basically erased it. As the Jedi General moves swiftly through the waves of droids, diverting blaster shots from his valiant soldiers trying to free this city, he cannot help but be reminded of Melida/Daan.

Melida/Daan was an urban planet much like Tesha Prime. Completely different in their architectural inspirations and cultures, but violence does not discriminate. Rubble looks the same no matter what it used to be. He remembers Melida/Daan in the hastily painted graffiti urging for resistance against their aggressors. In the sound of bombs causing duracrete walls to collapse. In the yells of pain and the shouts of orders as medic clones traverse the battlefield to pull their fallen brothers out.

Obi-Wan grimaces, biting on his bottom lip so hard he tastes blood.

Seeing Nield and telling Cody and Anakin about his early exposure to war has brought about an unexpected consequence. Remembering. The nightmares of seeing Cerasi's murder and holding children as their life Forces faded away plagues his nights. Sometimes he will awake with a start, his first instinct to reach beside him where Nield used to sleep an arm's length away. When he doesn't feel a warm presence nearby, Obi-Wan begins to panic until he turns on the light and realizes he is not in the barracks of the Young, but in his quarters aboard his star destroyer. He's not thirteen, he's thirty-six.

Try as he might, though, the memories of his youth are not leaving him alone. He's been distracted by the flashes of Melida/Daan in battle before, but Taloona is messing with his mind more than usual. The city air smells the same. The wrecked streets feel the same beneath his boots. Obi-Wan is just thankful that his training allows him to shove his anxiety aside. He releases it into every moment of calm he can find. He must stay on his game for his men. For the people of Taloona and Tesha Prime.

But it's a shrill gasp of pain exploding through the Force that makes Obi-Wan tunnel. He whirls around from his place atop a fire escape and can see Ahsoka on street level with the 501st's battle route. Her eyes wide and arms wrapped around her chest as her knees buckle and she falls to the ground. The air leaves his lungs as though he's been punched.

"Ahsoka!" he yells as he leaps from the fourth story of the fire escape. The 501st has begun to regroup to compensate, Rex barreling through the crowd to reach her. Obi-Wan gets to her first, pulling himself between her and the front line and tucking her into his lap.

She's so small, he realizes. So young. Barely older than I was.

"You'll be okay," Obi-Wan says, cradling her head in the crook of his arm. He blinks and there's blood everywhere, dear Force, where did this blood come from? He presses his hands to the center of her chest where the blood seems to be pouring out.

"Obi-Wan?" the voice calling his name is distant, but he ignores it. I need to stop the bleeding. He squeezes his eyes shut to keep himself from vomiting.

"Do you hear me? You'll be okay, Cerasi," he whispers.

"Master Obi-Wan?" Louder this time. Closer. A warm palm rests against his cheek and when he opens his eyes Ahsoka is staring up at him with deep concern laced in her features.

She's awake? That can't be! The blaster shot... the blood... No, there is no blood. There never was. Ahsoka is lying in his arms, a scorch mark on the breastplate of her armor, but it didn't go all the way through. He blinks through the tears in his eyes. This is not Melida/Daan. I'm not there anymore. I'm thirty-six, and the war is over. This is the Clone Wars. Ahsoka is Anakin's padawan. I'm not thirteen. Melida/Daan is at peace. Nield is alive and well.

"General?" Another voice. He looks up and realizes he isn't alone. Captain Rex is giving Ahsoka a stim, glancing up at the High General every so often. Cody kneels next to his brother, more focused on Obi-Wan as reality slowly creeps back. Though he cannot see his face beneath his helmet, he can feel Cody's patient understanding. These men unfortunately know the look of someone lost in a time other than the present. And Cody is one of the few that knows exactly where his mind has gone.

"General Kenobi, are you alright?" Cody attempts to get his attention again. This time Obi-Wan nods, trying to relax the tension in his muscles.

"Yes... of course," he looks down at Ahsoka who's hand slips from his cheek. It reminds him too much of the way Cerasi's hand dropped like dead weight as her heart stopped. He shakes away the memory. The stim is setting in, clearing the cloudiness of shock from her eyes. "Are you alright young one?"

"Yes, Master Kenobi, it just surprised me. It's a good thing I had on armor for this battle."

Obi-Wan swallows thickly. The Young never had real armor. On such small bodies and without adequate medical attention, nearly every hit was a lethal one. He smiles, slowly sitting her up. "A very good thing indeed."

The battle felt like it droned on for days. Perhaps because a rotation on Tesha Prime is thirty-four hours. Or because Obi-Wan completely immersed himself in the Force, letting his instincts take charge over his mind. Obviously, his mind was not to be trusted. He's just thankful his brief blur into the past didn't cause more of a scene.

Obi-Wan walks through the aftermath now. The shooting and the bombings have ceased, but sometimes silence isn't any better than the sounds of war. At least focusing on the battle kept his mind occupied. Now he buries himself in his cloak, tucking his hands away so nobody can see they're still shaking.

"Master Kenobi?" the voice is soft, unimposing. Obi-Wan turns to find Ahsoka standing a few paces away. She's out of the armor now and in her usual clothing. Like Obi-Wan, her cloak is draped around her as the night finally settles in to cool the heat of the day. Despite the scare from earlier, she looks unharmed.

But she looks younger than Obi-Wan usually notices her to be. Maybe it's the too-big cloak that swallows her lanky adolescent figure. Or the timidness on her face that is not characteristic of his grand padawan.

"Yes, Padawan? How are you feeling?"

She catches up to him and matches his pace. The Togruta shrugs.

"Tired. A little sore, but Kix says none of my ribs are broken. Just a little bruised."

"And Anakin, have you seen him yet?" Anakin took charge of the air raid, leaving Ahsoka to command the troops from the ground. Obi-Wan hasn't run into him yet, but he expects his former padawan to come looking for him once word gets around about Ahsoka's close call and Obi-Wan's... strong reaction.

Ahsoka shakes her head. "No, but he commed me. The fighters are just going to go back to the hangers. The battle went on for so long they need to refuel."

Obi-Wan pinches the hairs on his chin. "Of course, smart of him. No need to waste fuel to land and take off again," he glances over at the padawan with a playful smirk. "Though don't tell him I said he was smart. After the stunts he pulled in the air, the last thing he needs is an ego boost." The padawan chuckles softly, but her smile fades quickly. They walk in silence for a few moments before Obi-Wan rocks into her to nudge her to the side. "I can tell something is troubling you, young one."

"Master Kenobi... who is Cerasi?"

Obi-Wan's own smile disappears. "Where did you... hear that name?"

"You called me Cerasi... when I was shot. I didn't even realize it at first, but I remembered and... I don't mean to pry, and you don't have to tell me, I was just curious--"

"It's alright Ahsoka," he stops her rambling, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. They stop walking in the middle of a market square and he leads her to sit on the edge of a large fountain. It has long run dry and is half-decimated, but it is a place to stop. "Cerasi was a good friend of mine. And she... was hurt in a very similar way to you, but unfortunately, she did not have armor to protect her."

"So she's..."

Obi-Wan nods.

The padawan exhales shakily, her fingers brushing against the place the blaster would have hit her. "Were you... there when it happened?"

He nods. "I was."

Her hand rests over his and she squeezes his fingers. "I'm sorry about your friend, Master Kenobi."

"It was a long time ago. I'm not sure why I said her name."

"It happens. Sometimes I almost accidentally call you Master Skywalker. Or I call Anakin Master Kenobi."

Obi-Wan smiles. "Oh, I bet he hates it when you do that."

"I keep telling him it's a compliment but he doesn't want to hear it."

They both laugh. Obi-Wan lets the peace and lightness of the moment settle around his body like a warm blanket. While he hates the fact that padawans are fighting in this war, he also loves their resilient presence. Ahsoka never fails to make him feel better, even when she isn't actively trying to.

"I'm glad you're okay, Ahsoka. Though I will be more insistent you wear that armor from now on. We can send your measurements to have you properly outfitted in gear that won't hinder your saber technique."

"But Master, then I won't have a good reason to not wear it."

"But it'll make your Grandmaster worry about you less."

Ahsoka sighs dramatically. "In that case, I guess I could learn to work around it."

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes and tucks his hands back into the sleeves of his cloak. "I swear, you and Anakin are going to be the death of me one day."

"Not if you wear your armor, Master," she says with a wry smile. Ahsoka glances at her comm and stands.

"Is Anakin asking where you are?"

"Rex. I told him I'd help with the med evacs," her blue eyes flicker up. The universal silent plead for dismissal.

"Go on," the general nods.

"Are you sure you're okay, Master Kenobi? I can tell Rex I'm sitting with you."

He stands and places a hand on her shoulder. "I am. We can talk more after dinner."

Ahsoka smiles and takes off running back toward the evac zone. Her cloak billows behind her as she disappears around the corner. The Jedi Master exhales a deep breath he wasn't aware he was holding.

_______

Nield, two drinks already warm in his belly, walks into the quiet cantina with the perfect amount of confidence to get through what he's about to do. It doesn't take long for his gaze to rest on the two cloaked figures seated at the bar. Before he can convince himself otherwise, the diplomat crosses where the two men are seated.

When he ran into Obi-Wan Kenobi two standard months ago, Nield was shocked at how the scrawny Jedi had changed after so many years. While it should not have been a surprise— he himself had changed quite a bit as well— in his head, Obi-Wan was still a thirteen-year-old with a horrible haircut and a pretentious amount of self-importance. (Nield has been to enough therapy since his warring days to realize his hatred of the young Jedi was a lot of his own projection. It did not change the way his mind remembered the boy that was once his companion.)

But alas, Kenobi grew up into a Jedi Master and a High General. When they spoke those months ago, Nield congratulated him on achieving his Jedi rank. They spent many nights during the war talking about the people they wanted to become once the fighting was resolved. Nield remembered Obi-Wan's anxieties over whether or not he would try to return to the Order that left him behind.

He questioned the second rank he had achieved, though. High General of the Grand Army of the Republic. Nield wasn't questioning his qualifications— Kenobi was a natural-born leader, even as a kid. There was no doubt he excelled at his position. What he questioned was why. Why would he want to take on that role again?

That led to a much longer explanation. One that Nield walked away deciding the answer his old friend was avoiding was simply: I did not want to go to war again, I had to.

Obi-Wan, of course, had the same question for him. Travel the galaxy was his previous answer to the question: who do I want to be when I'm not fighting a damned civil war? It wasn't what he told the others of The Young, but a secret desire he confided in Obi-Wan while they chatted to keep one another awake on watches. Nield wanted to be a nomad. He wanted his home to be among the stars rather than a planet or civilization.

"And you became a representative for the very planet you wanted to put behind you forever," Obi-Wan had said with the same smugness Nield gave him.

"I do get to travel."

"I suppose. But it isn't living among the stars."

They ended the night with the conclusion that they both failed their childhood dreams in some ways. But what is adulthood, if not living to find things to regret?

For Nield, he ironically walked away from his reunion with Obi-Wan with new regrets. Which is what brings him to this random cantina on Keitrum.

He doesn't need to try and get the attention of the Jedi General— as he approaches, Obi-Wan Kenobi's stool swivels around. There's confusion in his tired eyes and furrowed brow, and then he relaxes, a small smile on his lips.

"What a surprise," he muses, causing his companion to also turn around. Nield recognizes the shaggy dark hair and piercing gaze of General Anakin Skywalker almost immediately. "What brings you to Keitrum, old friend?"

"Definitely not the same reasons as you," Nield says tightly, eyeing the armor they were keeping hidden beneath their billowing robes. Well-used armor, tainted with dried blood and oil stains. Obi-Wan is clad in a more complete ensemble of shoulder, chest, arm, and leg pieces, while the younger General appears to only sport the shoulder and chest armor. Oh, the false security of youth. They look as though they came straight from the battlefield to grab a celebratory drink. Nield suspects that is exactly the case.

"Friend of yours, Master?" Skywalker says, curious eyes flickering between the two of them.

"Something of the sort," Obi-Wan replies, leaning back so they can see one another. "Anakin, this is Nield, a Representative of Melidaan. I met him—"

"When you were part of The Young?" The wide-eyed General finishes, suddenly looking his age. Nield raises an eyebrow at Kenobi. So you told him after all.

"Yes, we... fought together."

"And against one another," Nield adds.

"Yes, that too, I suppose."

Nield settles down on the opposite side of Kenobi and listens as he explains to the young man the nature of their... history. Though Obi-Wan gives him a charitable amount of leeway and understanding for his actions, Nield can't help the guilt that builds as the story goes on.

Especially as Skywalker keeps looking his way with increasing outrage and obvious protectiveness over his former Master.

"...after Cerasi... died," Obi-Wan says in a softer voice. "we had very different approaches on how to proceed."

"You wanted revenge?" Anakin asks Nield with off-putting intensity. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

"I was angry," he glances at Obi-Wan. "I thought about it a lot, though. How the people who killed her needed to pay. Obi-Wan had to help me get out of that mindset. It wasn't what she would have wanted."

Now it's Obi-Wan's turn to look surprised. They'd avoided recounting the specifics of the war when they last talked, and that's exactly what Nield regretted. He never got to tell Obi-Wan he's sorry for the way their friendship splintered back then. The war, the death— it changed him for the worse. It aged his soul, made his heart turn to stone. It took many, many years to come back from the shell of a person he became.

"We were kids," Obi-Wan whispers, a creak in his tone.

"I'm still sorry. You did nothing but help us when nobody else would. You were always one of us, no matter what I said as a punk kid. You were one of us, and honestly, the best of us. Your name still comes up among those of us that remain."

The Jedi Master stares at him for a long moment before staring down at his drink as he swirls it. Skywalker assumes being a wallflower, switching between fiddling with the commlink on his wrist and monitoring his Master's facial expressions.

"How many?"

"About half from when we last saw you." A moment of silence. Nield lets out a breath and then continues. "Not all gone, just not living on Melidaan anymore. They attended university. Traveled. Got married and moved away."

Neither say it, but he knows they both are thinking it. We fought so hard for a peaceful home. Leaving seemed like a dishonor to those who died with the dream of growing old on the land they left their family for.

But Obi-Wan left too. And Nield does not actually blame him nor anyone else for leaving.

"I hope they're well."

Skywalker's hand suddenly clasps Kenobi's shoulder. "Ahoska and the men are here. I'm gonna go tell them to put their drinks on your tab."

"Anakin, don't you dare, the accounting department was so angry with me last time!" he calls after him, but the young General has already disappeared into the thickening crowd. Obi-Wan sighs and looks back at Nield who can't help the amusement on his face.

"So that's Anakin Skywalker."

"In all his glory, yes."

"He reminds me of you as a kid."

"Oh Force, don't tell him that. I'll never hear the end of it."

Nield laughs. "I'm glad I got to meet him. Put a face to your stories."

"I take it meeting my former padawan is not the reason you have come out of your way to find me. Nor is this the coincidence you make it out to be."

"Perceptive as always. I just realized we skirted around the obvious when we last spoke. Pretended that I didn't alienate you from the Young after you devoted everything to help us."

"Like I said earlier, we were kids, Nield."

"And like I also said earlier, I'm sorry. That's why I wanted to see you again."

Obi-Wan smiles, holding out his hand. Nield shakes it. "I'm sorry too, old friend. I'm glad we got to see one another again because I needed to thank you. You and one of my officers convinced me to finally tell Anakin about the war."

"How'd he react?"

"Better than I anticipated. But now every free moment has turned into storytime."

Nield recalls the few fond moments of the war when Obi-Wan would sit in the center of the room and tell all the younger kids a bedtime story. An attempt to thwart the nightmares away. "You were always good at telling stories."

"Apparently so. I usually draw quite an audience."

"It helps though. Talking about it. Doesn't it?"

The Jedi General nods. "For the most part. Though I see our war everywhere, now."

"The dreams?" Nield asks. Obi-Wan frowns. That's a yes. "The war can't be helping. Every time a speeder backfired I thought I was..."

"Back there again," The Jedi finishes for him. "Yes... Our recent terrestrial battles have not been helping."

Nield cannot imagine what it must be like to be back in the middle of a warzone. The fact the galaxy is at war at all was enough of a trigger for the flashbacks to his youth. It's why he takes his duty as a representative so seriously. He will do anything and everything to keep his home away from this conflict.

But his friend does not have that luxury. Nield waits for Kenobi to meet his eyes again.

"It still affects me, too. Bad days come out of nowhere. No matter how many times people tell me 'recovery isn't linear' it still surprises me. But before I knew it, I had more good days than bad and even the bad days didn't compare to what they used to be. It'll get better, Obi-Wan. I promise you it will."

Obi-Wan holds his stare. He's harder to read now than when he was thirteen, but Nield can still recognize the look in the Jedi's eye when he trusts someone. Though Nield doesn't feel he deserves this trust, for Obi-Wan's sake he's glad he's willing to listen.

"I will remember that," the Jedi says softly. "Thank you."

Nield raises the drink that was placed before him at some point. Obi-Wan does the same. The words come tumbling out before he can think of anything else to say. "To our brothers and sisters in the trenches... and the pursuit of peace."

The chant feels acidic on his tongue.

"We fight for our future, and the lives those who have died deserved," Obi-Wan continues. He hasn't forgotten it either.

"To unity."

"To freedom."

"To the Young," they say together, voices barely carrying beyond the space between them. Their cups clink together, and for a moment they're back in the lookout station. Kenobi, Nield, Cerasi, and half a bottle of red wine they found when pillaging an abandoned home for supplies. They didn't actually drink the wine-- it was obviously rancid. But that cheer they made up between giggles and dares to taste the sour beverage became their battle cry.

He tries to sip his brew but it tastes like that damn expired wine. For some reason, that makes him smile. Somehow the moments Nield cherishes the most lie among the worst points of his life. Perhaps because Cerasi never made it past the war to record over the old memories with new ones. Perhaps because Obi-Wan disappeared before Nield could come to his senses.

But for some reason, he's been granted another chance. Nield isn't sure what he did to deserve such a gift, but he'll accept it. Kenobi sits next to him, washing away the bittersweet chant of their youth with a brew.

Another survivor, and now, a friend once again.

#ghosts of the past #anakin #jedi apprentice #melida/daan #if you saw this saying im gonna post it in 3 parts no you didn't #i figured out the problem

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