#POV Second Person

[leighsartworks216]

You Hate Me

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Sooooo I wrote this one morning when even just laying down had my knees hurting and I was like,, well what if Tav had that too? Also inspired by the fact I get to campus an hour early and still try to rush to the (empty) classroom instead of, ya know, taking advantage of the huge time buffer I give myself

Warnings: swearing, descriptions of joint pain, insecurity, crying, possibly OOC, clown mention

Word Count: 1,545

Masterlist

AO3

Just a bit further. A little further and then you could rest. If you make it to that tree - make it to that tree and you can sit down. Just a bit left to go.

It started almost a week ago. Unable to cope with all the traveling, your right knee started bothering you. With every step you could feel your kneecap shifting back and forth with a dull click. Then, it started to hurt. Nothing serious. If you walked slow enough, you could avoid it. But now every step sent shocks of pain up your entire leg. Your left knee joined the party this morning, removing any sense of relief you had while walking. Even sitting down didn't remove the pain, but you couldn't afford a day off.

Your companions noticed the changes, despite your best effort not to show any outward discomfort. You moved slower, the occasional grimace slipped through, they weren't traveling quite as far. You consider asking Shadowheart for anything that could ease the pain, but you already knew there was little she could do to help. So you grit your teeth and kept going.

Your foot stepped on uneven ground and you nearly dropped from the agony that shot through your whole body. Karlach worried you might actually just collapse. But you kept going.

Astarion couldn't bear it. None of them could - they hated seeing their intrepid leader fight their own body just to go a few more feet - but your struggle settled like a boulder in his stomach. Every time your face scrunched up, every hiss of your sharp inhales, felt like someone had stabbed a knife in his chest and was twisting it ever deeper. He hated the feeling.

With only a few long strides, he slipped from the back of the group to the front, walking alongside you. He had to change his normal gait just so he didn't surpass you. "Darling," he hummed quietly, just loud enough to keep the conversation between you two, "you should rest."

You shook your head. You didn't even spare him a glance. Your eyes didn't shift from the tree. "We're almost there," you dismiss. It's slightly breathless. Despite needing to walk slow to avoid the pain, you were pushing to go faster.

He tsked. "And how far do we still have left to go?" He tilted his head as he looked at you, already knowing whatever distance you said would be too far.

You nodded to a tree dead ahead. "Once we reach that birch, we can rest."

"That birch?" He pointed. "The birch tree that's nearly half a mile away?"

He could feel you bristle with his incredulous tone, but you didn't say anything.

He scoffed. "My dear, I can be stubborn at the best of times, but this is ridiculous! You're barely staying upright as it is."

"I'm fine-"

"No, you're not," he sharply cuts you off. He grabs your arm and pulls you to a stop, holding you there with enough force that you wouldn't slip out and keep going. You refuse to look at him even now. "You're wincing, your hands have been clenched for the last mile, and you keep stumbling. The tree will still be there if you just sit down for a minute."

The rest of the party watches from a distance. Far enough away they can just make out what Astarion's saying, especially as his voice rises in pitch the more frustrated he gets.

Standing still hurts. It's hard to say if it hurts more or less than walking; it just hurts. Your face is pinched as sharp jolts run up through your joints, like someone is poking you with a sewing needle. Walking, you decide, must be better than this.

"It's not that far," you insist, voice low. "And when we get there, we can-"

"Gods above, you're impossible! Fine. Fine! You want to get to that tree, fine." He lets go of your arm.

Before you can even take a step, he's sweeping you into his arms, supporting you with one arm under your back and the other hooked under your knees. The pressure hurts for a moment, but it quickly fades away. The lingering aches are from pushing yourself too hard. He begins marching once more toward your end goal.

You want to shout, to demand he put you down. But when you look up at his face, his eyes are sharper than usual, lips pulled into a tight frown and crease forming between his eyebrows. He's angry.

He's angry with you.

The words die in your throat. You hate being so dependent. You were the leader - you needed to be strong and fearless and without weakness. To receive help feels like someone plunging their hand between your ribs and stealing away a chunk of your worth. But seeing Astarion upset, upset with you, that stings far worse.

You avoid looking over his shoulder. You could just imagine their faces. How Lae'zel would scowl at you for being weak. How Gale's face would turn somber when he realizes you're not as capable as he thought. You couldn't bear it. So you press your forehead to Astarion's neck and stare at your lap.

There's an unwelcome burn at the back of your eyes. Shame floods your chest and crawls up your throat until it chokes you. Water pools along your lower lids and blurs your vision. You can't walk and now you're going to cry. Just how fucking pathetic can you be?

Astarion's head shifts and you can tell he's trying to look down at you. He's trying to see your face. Because he can feel you shaking in his arms. He can hear your lungs quivering as your breaths become uneven and choppy. You press your closed eyes against his throat and he can feel the hot tears against his skin.

His frown softens, though you can't see it. He slows down to a stop and tells the others to go on ahead, to the birch tree just there, and start working on setting up camp, but all you can hear is your heart pounding in your ears. Their faces become fraught with worry; Karlach is the last to go. She still looks back once or twice. Astarion finds a suitable rock and he sits.

"Shh, sweet thing," he cooes, voice no louder than a whisper. His arm around your back pulls you into his shoulder, hand tangling in your hair as he cradles you. His other hand rubs soothing circles along your thigh. You gasp around a sob, body curling further into itself, into him, as you release your emotions. "It's alright."

You strangle out an apology. It's wet and croaky and painful.

"Whatever for?" he asks.

"You're mad at me," you whimper.

He huffs. The frustration from before rises in him again just thinking about it. "Yes, I am."

He feels your breath catch in your throat, and the heaving breath you take after. "You hate me."

Astarion laughs, short and sharp. "Why would I hate you, dear? Because you're too stubborn for your own good?" You don't have a response for him. He kisses your head, wherever he can reach. "I'm mad because you put yourself out trying to solve all of our issues, but the moment you have one of your own, you refuse any help. You're going to tear yourself apart."

He sighs and rests his cheek atop your head. His fingers rub the nape of your neck, gently tugging at the hair there. You carry so much tension, it's a wonder your muscles haven't locked up from the stress.

Time passes slowly in his arms. It seems to take forever before you start to calm down, and even longer before your eyes have dried. He does nothing to speed the process aside from gently hush you when you try to choke out apologies.

You sniffle quietly. Your eyes are raw, and you're all too aware of the stain of water you've left on the vampire's neck. When you speak, it's a painful creak in your vocal chords. "You don't hate me?"

He presses another kiss to your head. "No, love, I don't hate you. Not unless you've done something truly horrific, like invite a clown to show up at camp in the middle of the night." You chuckle weakly. It's such sweet music. "Gods forbid you start donating to charity." You laugh this time, and Astarion's chuckle vibrates against your ear.

His fingers detangle themselves from your hair with one last gentle tug, and his arm wraps around your back once more. As though you weigh no more than one of his pillows, he stands once more with you in his safe grasp, and begins heading for camp. He can see Karlach up ahead light up when she sees you're finally on your way.

"I'm sorry," you whisper. "I just feel so... useless, like this."

"Please, stop apologizing," he begs, dramatically. "Just say 'thank you' and we can move on."

You peel your face from his skin, dried tears sticking you together. You wince at how disgusting this must be for him. You lean up and kiss his cheek. He smiles at the affection. "Thank you."

Softer, he says, "Of course, my love."

[mamsieur]

Don't mess with the Storm | Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Summary : Sometimes, Cyclone could live up to his call sign. Especially when it concerned you, his youngest daughter, his little Storm.

TW : slight violence, mention of alcohol, family/domestic fluff

Length : 6753 words

AN : You can't make me believe that Beau Simpson isn't a family man with lots of kids. That's what he radiates.

posted on AO3 August 21, 2023

Your mom always said you took after your dad, but if he was a Cyclone, you were a Storm ; smaller and less destructive. Storm has always been your nickname. 

It described you quite well as much in your way of doing things than in your personality. You were passionate about everything you did and you often left a mess after you.

Being a Vice Admiral, Beau managed to control himself for his work but when it came to you and your well being, he could literally destroy everything on his way. Not that your father was in any way abusive or violent, but he sometimes could over react.

You were your parents’ precious little baby.

You were the youngest of four children; you had three older brothers, all in the military. Two of them, Nathan and Jamie, were naval aviators, like your father, and one, Aaron, was a Marine Officer. 

Needless to say, you were well taken care of ; you liked to think that you had a small ‘army’ for yourself.

But as much as they thought of you as their little princess, they never treated you like one, and you never wanted to be. You were tough and very capable of defending yourself. Your father always encouraged you in whatever you wanted to do. 

You wanted to join the soccer team? Let's go. Switch to boxing lessons? Done. A new passion for karting? He had your back. An interest in mechanics ? He bought you your first tool box.

As long as you put your heart and soul into whatever you did, your family would support you.

So when you told them you wanted to work for the Navy after your engineering degree, they were as supportive as they could be.

You were a genius engineer - your mom’s word, not yours - and you loved working on jets, inspecting them, gathering as much data as possible to make them as efficient as they can be. Working at Top Gun was heaven. Since the pilots were supposed to be the best, you loved pushing them and their machines to be better and better.

Of course, the fact that you were working on the same base as your father had raised some eyebrows. But neither of you cared, and he got you no special treatment.

After the uranium mission, you were assigned to check the status of the Dagger Squad's F-18s. Everything seemed to be in good shape, and while your computer analyzed the flight data, you inspected the engines. You liked to work alone when you could, it helped you stay in your bubble of concentration.

The sun was slowly setting as you finished diagnosing the last jet. Being alone in the hangar, you took the opportunity to put on some music. You hummed and swayed a little while you waited for the analysis to finish on your screen and inspected the engine.

Your head was - quite literally - in it when you heard footsteps behind you. They stopped a few feet away from you to let you finish what you were doing.

"I'll just be two minutes," you muttered and then shrugged, getting no response. You finished inspecting the seemingly defective part and stood up. Your face was covered in dust and motor oil, and your hair was starting to fall out of your ponytail.

You sighed and turned to your mysterious guest.

"Oh! Good evening Lieutenant Bradshaw. May I help you?" you smiled a little and wiped your forehead with the back of your hand.

"Good evening Second Lieutenant Simpson, to tell you the truth, yes, you may..." he grinned charmingly, crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the plane, "I was wondering if you'd forgotten our date? It's 7:20, and we agreed to meet at 6:30 ?” 

You stopped smiling and looked at the clock. Crap! You hadn't seen the time.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry! I was servicing the jets and didn't realize what time it was! I should have set an alarm, I'm sorry. Jesus, how could I be so stupid?"

You were starting to mumble excuses as you gathered your things when you felt his hand on your wrist.

"It's okay, I know how you get when you're focused on something. We’ll find another day for that. I'll wait for you at the bar, okay?" he reassured you with a grin.

"Uh yeah, yeah okay! I'll be quick!" you nodded and smiled back at him. He tucked a strand of your wild hair behind your ear, a few inches from you, making you blush slightly. His thumb stroked your cheek. He had that cheeky smile he always had when something was on his mind. He took your hand and kissed your knuckles, his beautiful brown eyes never leaving yours.

" Or , I can also wait for you in the changing-"

" Lieutenant Bradshaw, Second Lieutenant Simpson, what are you two still doing here? "

Your father's stern voice echoed through the hangar, taking you by surprise. Bradley took a quick step back and straightened his posture to greet him.

"I, uh-"

"Lieutenant Bradshaw forgot his keys, sir, he was out. I got carried away with the diagnostics, I'm almost finished here," you replied quickly as Cyclone’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Bradley then at you.

"Hm. You better hurry then, Second Lieutenant, overtime is not allowed. You're free to go Lieutenant Bradshaw."

"Yes sir!" you said in unison and Bradley left as quickly as he could, flashing one last smile in your direction before disappearing down the corridors.

As you started to clean up the mess you'd made, you heard an amused sigh.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing. You're still living up to your nickname."

"Ha ha, very funny Dad," you rolled your eyes and closed your toolbox, "Don't wait for me, I'm going out tonight."

"Mmh. Is Bradshaw involved?" he asked as he helped you carry your stuff to the storage room.

"Yes? I mean the whole Dagger team is, I need to get to know them to understand how they work."

That was only half a lie. You knew they most likely were all at the Hard Deck, you'd met them there a few times. You got along well with them, especially Natasha, Bob and Mickey. And of course, Bradley... But it was different with him.

You'd known him for years and your very first assignment had been with him. Your friendship had evolved over the years into a kind of friends-with-benefits/fuck-buddies relationship until a few weeks ago. Since the uranium mission, he wanted more than that, and so did you. You two tried to keep your relationship secret because you suspected it could jeopardize either of your careers, and mostly because you knew your father would not approve.

He always thought the guys you dated were not good enough for you. And as annoying as it was, he was always right. He scared away some of them and when you thought back about it, it's a good thing he did.

Truth be told, you have been in love with Bradley for so long that sometimes it hurted. 

You had tried to tell him so many times in the past, but you were afraid of losing what little intimacy you had with him. So when he asked you out, first thing after the uranium mission, it felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. The hope that your feelings would be reciprocated had invaded your heart and mind, and you felt like it was the first time you were in love. It wasn’t of course, but you were all giddy about it.

You didn’t like to lie to your dad, he knew you too much to know everything in just one look. 

But it was worth it, wasn’t it ?

You hoped it was.

After a well-deserved shower, you changed into clean, comfortable clothes that actually suited you. You put on your helmet and rode to the bar with your motorbike. Your mother hated when you used that ‘death machine’ and your father wasn't really fond of it either. It reminded him of Maverick. He wasn’t fond of Maverick. It always made you laugh watching your dad trying to remain calm in front of the Captain. You’ve never seen a man getting on his nerves that much.

The Hard Deck was already busy when you parked ; a totally normal Friday night , you thought. Looking around, you spotted Natasha’s, Javy’s and Bradley’s cars.

Penny nodded at you with a smile as you entered. The Daggers were in their usual places and Bradley seemed to be winning the pool game against Jake. In a desperate attempt to break his concentration, Jake chuckled, "Your girlfriend's here, Bradshaw”.

The whole team had discovered your relationship, of course, but swore to keep it a secret. You were grateful to them, but Jake being himself, he couldn't resist taking a dig at you. 

You rolled your eyes and took a seat next to Bob, watching the two eternal rivals finish their game. You caught up with Mickey and theorized with him on the last episodes of Kenobi then made your way towards Penny at the bar to buy your round of beers. As you waited for your drinks at the counter, you felt two hands around your waist.

"You're late, Second Lieutenant ."

"Had to fix your teammates’ jets, Lieutenant , tell them to be more careful," you grinned, leaning your back against your boyfriend's torso. You heard him chuckle softly as he whispered that you were an ‘idiot' and kissed the top of your head.

"Sorry about our date, I'll make it up to you."

"You bet your sweet ass you will," Bradley snickered at the squeal you let out as he spanked you a little, “But right now, you owe me a dance to celebrate my victory against Hangman.”

He took your hand as you rolled your eyes but followed him. Your whole body pressed against his, arms around his neck, the room faded away. All you could feel and see was him; one of his hands on the small of your back, the other on your hip, guiding you. The warmth of his body was like a spell that kept you close, not wanting to let go.His hands roamed down your back making you shiver. It felt like you belonged there.

You couldn’t let go of his eyes, hypnotized. He had such beautiful eyes ; those hazel brown orbs were magnetic, so infuriatingly charming. 

One of your hands gently stroked his scarred cheek and he leaned into your touch, smiling like an idiot and humming the song you were slow dancing to. His smile always sent butterflies to your stomach and heat to your cheeks. It was almost annoying how easily you fell for his charms.

The two of you danced until the song ended and you pulled him by the collar to kiss him. You felt his hands slip into the back pockets of your jeans, shamelessly squeezing your ass, and his proud grin against your lips. You bit his as you pulled away from the kiss.

"Okay, lovebirds , get a room," Jake complained and you flipped him off, still in Bradley's arms.

"Don't be jealous Jakey, your time will come," you teased, making your partner chuckle.

"She's right Seresin, just wait till you're a big boy."

The evening continued quietly, with one beer after another, a few games of darts and pool, and a few songs on the piano for Bradley. 

You watched him from the bar, mesmerized, an affectionate smile on your face. You still wondered how you'd managed to get his attention; this man could have anyone he wanted with his smile combined with a little song, the sweetness with which he spoke, his sarcasms, his eyes so soft and intense at the same time, his stupid, stupid, cocky grin... God, you were definitely and undoubtedly under his spell, mind and heart.

Your eyes never left his form for more than five seconds. You looked at him as if you wanted to learn every aspect of his physique; but to be honest, you already knew him by heart. 

You could locate every beauty mark, every scar - and tell its story - and where his birthmark was. You could describe every shade of brown in his eyes, depending on the light or his emotions. You knew every expression on his face; when he was angry, frustrated, sad, or playful. You knew exactly where and how to touch him to make him putty in your hands, every positively sensitive area and those to avoid.

And yet, every time you looked at him, behind the piano, laughing with his friends, you discovered a new detail that made you love him even more.

The way he cared for all of them - even Jake, his "archenemy" - and knew just what to do to make them feel better and laugh. How he always listened to what they had to share, good or bad, and offered to help. How he'd always protect them as if they were his siblings, his rather hazardous family.

Speaking of hazardous family, it always made you laugh how Bradley could be so like Pete and like your dad. It was sometimes a mixture of arrogance and calm, defiance and seriousness. Part of you was sure that if they tried, your dad and Bradley would get along. But were they willing to ?

As you were lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice a man, a little younger than you, sitting next to your stool. He started talking, trying to flirt, but you didn’t really pay attention, still absorbed by your boyfriend’s silliness, until he clicked his fingers in front of your face.

“Hey, ‘m talking to you doll. You should really pay attention when someone is talking to you, got it ?”

You sipped your beer and looked at him out of the corner of your eye. He continued his flirtatious attempts, bragging that he was one of the best in his class at Top Gun. He kept trying to get your attention by snapping his fingers or grabbing your arm. His breath was clearly too close to your face and stinked a mixture of beer and chips. 

It really started to annoy you, so it was your turn to snap your fingers in his face.

"I'm not interested,” you snapped your fingers again, “If a girl ignores you, it's because she doesn't want to talk to you, got it ?"

You got off your stool, ready to join the Daggers by the piano. But a hand gripped your wrist and the man pulled you close to him. You could see a hint of anger and annoyance in his eyes, but it didn’t scare you. You were used to guys like him, thinking they own every woman they see. 

“Listen doll, I was nice until now. Give me your number and I’ll forgive you,” he grinned, his buddies sneering behind him, as if they were proud of him. You couldn’t help but giggle at the scene. What kind of bad joke was that ?

In one swift motion, you released your wrist and pinned his arm behind his back. You bent him violently over the bar and locked him in that position, pressing down just enough to hurt and immobilize him. 

"One false move and I will dislocate your arm," you threatened in his ear as a few glances turned in your direction. "Now listen to me carefully. This is the last time you'll talk to me or any woman like that. Understood?"

He grunted and struggled a little. You pressed harder and repeated, "Understood?"

"Okay! Okay, I understand! Get off me!"

The man growled again and you finally let go. Penny gave you a look that you understood as a warning and you smiled innocently to her. The man and his group walked away with a grunt, giving you one last murderous look. You smiled broadly and made a mocking curtsy. 

Bradley raised an eyebrow as they passed him, muttering that you were a "crazy bitch". You joined him with two beers, one for him and one for you.

"What happened?"

"Nothing to worry about, just some big macho guy. He didn't like that I wasn't paying attention to him. I just put him in his place."

You shrugged with a smile and Bradley shook his head, laughing a little, knowing exactly what you meant. He put his arm around your waist and kissed your temple. 

"I know you can defend yourself, but don't get yourself in trouble, Stormy."

"Don't worry, if I get in trouble, my knight in shining armor will come and rescue me, won't he?" you teased. He chuckled but nodded before taking you on his lap at the piano. He started a new song that had the remaining customers singing and dancing.

***

The end of the evening was a bit hazy.

You'd had too much to drink to get back on your bike, so it was Bradley who drove you home. You pulled your boyfriend into your small house - he offered no resistance - and kissed him as if your life depended on it, as if that simple contact made your heart beat. His hands roamed your body with hunger, and yours tore his Hawaiian shirt from his back. You thought of nothing but Bradley, his soft lips devouring your jaw and neck, leaving a few marks where he passed, his hands so warm on your skin, his breath making you shiver. 

You wandered back to your room, kicking off your shoes, and your clothes ended up in a pile at the end of your bed. 

You loved doing it with Bradley. He gave you everything you wanted and so much more. You'd never been as fulfilled as you were with him. It was as if he knew everything about how your body worked, that it held no secrets for him. 

Your nightly activities have drained you both of what little energy you had left, and you fell asleep hugging each other, as if afraid the other will evaporate.

The next morning, it was not your massive headache that woke you, but the sound of several cars and children laughing outside your house. What day was it? Was it Saturday? It was Saturday!

You jumped to your feet as Bradley mumbled something unintelligible.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" You shook your boyfriend and wrapped yourself in a blanket as you heard the sound of a key turning in the front door lock.

"Bradley, get up!"

"Mmh, five minutes..." he mumbled, burying his face in the pillow. You heard the door open and small footsteps running toward your room. You panicked and shook him harder.

"We don't have five minutes! Get your ass up!" 

You grabbed the first thing you could get your hands on: panties and Bradley's tank top. You stumbled to your bedroom door to get out before one of your nephews’ innocent eyes discovered their aunt and a man they didn't know naked as worms in her bed. You tried to look as natural as possible as you quickly closed the door behind you. Standing in front of you was Jack, your three-year-old nephew. He was Nathan’s, your oldest brother, son. He laughed as he threw himself on your legs to give you a hug.

"Oh my God, hi sweetie! You're early!"

"Dada said we'd surprise you, Auntie! And Pop-Pop is here too!" the little boy laughed.

"What a nice thought!" you tried not to sound too ironic as you picked him up to give him a kiss and rearrange his wild blond hair. "Auntie needs to get dressed, okay? Go wait with your dad in the living room!"

You gave him one last kiss and made sure he ran to the living room before storming back to your bedroom. How could you forget that your brothers were visiting today? You were so screwed! A million thoughts went through your head and one thing made you snap out of it; Bradley yawning and taking his sweet time getting up. You grumbled and attacked him with a pillow.

"Hey! What was that for?"

"We're in deep shit Bradley! My whole family is here! They weren't supposed to be up this early!"

"What?" he blinked and narrowed his eyes, trying to process what you'd just told him. You started to rattle on about how your brothers got their permission for your mom's birthday, but your brothers were here super early with their wifes, their kids, and your mom and dad. Bradley had trouble following what you were saying because you were talking really fast. 

“Babe,” he tried to interrupt you, but you kept mumbling and pacing next to the bed, “Y/N, baby, calm down!” 

He grabbed your wrist, pulling you to sit in front of him. His free hand cupped your cheek tenderly as he guided you into breathing to calm yourself down.

“Okay… mind explaining slower what is happening here ?”

You sighed and nodded before re-explaining the whole situation to him. “But they weren’t supposed to come here this early ! The surprise lunch for my mom was supposed to be at home, not in my flat ! And my dad is here. My dad ! What are we going to say ?”

You cursed again, rubbing your temples. Bradley took your hands in his to make you look at him and stole a kiss from you. You sighed against his lips, your tension going away slightly. He then pressed his forehead to yours, stroking your cheeks to soothe you.

“How about we get dressed and just… join them in the living room ?”

“You really want to face my dad ?” you raised one eyebrow, surprised but really relieved that he didn’t propose to just sneak out.

“Yeah ? I mean, the man already has doubts, you’ve said it yourself… and it’s your mother’s birthday, your whole army of men won’t be able to kill me. Not today at least.”

You chuckled at his joking tone and at the silly smile he has on his face. You pecked his lips with a grin. “Okay then Lieutenant , let’s get dressed.”

“Yes ma’am!” 

He gave you one last tender kiss, and when the two of you went to get up, a little giggle made you both freeze.

“Auntie who that ? And why he nakey ?”

Your nephew’s voice asked. He was standing by the door, a playful smile on his chubby face, and his little finger pointing at your embarrassed boyfriend. Bradley quickly covered himself more, lifting the sheet at his chin, and you ran to get little Jack in your arms.

“How did he get here ??” Bradley scream-whispered at you, hiding himself while trying to get dressed.

“I don’t know !” you scream-whispered back before turning your attention back to the toddler who was babbling in your arms, “Jack, honey, why aren’t you with your dad and pop-pop ?”

Before he could answer, your sister in law was by your bedroom, apologizing. She didn’t notice Bradley right away, but when she did, a small cheeky smile curled on her lip.

“Hi there, sorry to have him interrupted you two.”

“Annie, it’s not what it looks like-” you blushed when you understood what she implied but Bradley interrupted you by presenting himself and shaking her hand with a wide smile. They chat while you put on a pair of jeans, keeping on Bradley’s tank top. Never in your life had you been this embarrassed.

Little Jack looked at your boyfriend with wide-eyed wonder. He loved meeting new people, and Bradley seemed fascinating to his young eyes. It was no wonder when every time Annie spoke to you, Bradley would make faces at the little boy and make him giggle. 

Bradley already had him in his pocket, so that was a good thing. Annie seemed to like him too, at least you thought so from the mischievous looks she gave you. 

As you crossed the hallway to join the rest of your family, a wave of nervousness ran through you. You grabbed Bradley by the sleeve of his Hawaiian shirt and turned him toward you. You pulled him into a hug to relax and to give yourself courage.

"Promise you won't hate me?"

"Why would I hate you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"They'll probably try to impress you, my brothers I mean... and my dad... you know how he can be..."

"Oh honey... It takes more than that to scare me. I'll be fine."

He kissed your forehead and you walked into the living room.

You greeted everyone, your father not immediately aware of Bradley's presence. You introduced him to your brothers first, Nathan, Aaron and Jamie, and they didn't do anything strange at first; they were probably waiting for you to introduce him to your father to see what sauce to cook him in.

Beau and Vivian, your mother, were too busy admiring your niece, five-month-old Juliet, to notice Bradley's presence. She was fast asleep in the arms of Jamie's fiancée, Alice. She greeted you with a smile when you waved.

"Awake at last, Stormy?" your father asked before freezing and losing his smile at the sight of your boyfriend, " Lieutenant Bradshaw. ".

His cold, hard tone made you sigh a little as the two men shook hands in greeting. 

“Good morning Vice Admiral Simpson.” 

They were way too formal, it was ridiculous. Your mother had the same reaction as you and introduced herself to Bradley with a warm smile and a hug.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Simpson."

"Oh, please, just call me Viv!" she laughed a little, waving her hand. Then she turned to you, discreetly gave you both thumbs up and winked at you. 

Good. Bradley seemed to have charmed your mother with just a smile.

Still, you could feel your father tense up behind you as Bradley got to know everyone. He remained very polite and smiled, even letting Jack, Oliver and Tommy - Aaron's twin sons - pull him out to play in the little garden. Your father grabbed your arm. "Kitchen. Now. We need to talk." He seemed a little upset, and you could understand; you'd lied to him.

"Care to explain yourself?" He crossed his arms on his chest, a stern look on his face. 

You didn't like that look. He used to have it when he scolded you when you were a teenager, when you would sneak out of the house to go to a party or to meet up with your then-boyfriend. For a moment, you were 16 again, caught in the act.

You sighed at his insistent and questioning look.

"I uh... He’s... we’re... we've been seeing each other for… a few weeks..."

"A few weeks? So you've been lying to me for weeks?"

"I haven't lied! At least not completely..." you mumbled, biting your fingernail.

"Y/N. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Seriously Dad? You've made it pretty clear that you don't really like him, I mean outside of work."

"I never said that."

You widened your eyes, shocked at his bad faith. 

"Are you kidding me? You've made it clear that you don't want me around him because he's too much like Maverick! Every time I mentioned him, you made your… disapproving face. The same one you made every time I mentioned my old boyfriends, or when I wanted to get a motorcycle, or when the boys tried to bleach their hair in high school !"

"I don't have a disapproving face," he grumbled, "and it's not because he’s like Maverick that I don't want you around him, it's because he can be called back on a mission at any time. I don't want that to break your heart."

"Oh ! But it's okay for Nathan, Aaron, and Jamie to break the hearts of their partners? Of their children? It was okay for you to risk breaking Mom's heart and ours? What kind of cardboard argument is that, Dad?" You raised your arms in disbelief as you started to walk out of the kitchen, but you stopped and turned back to face him. "I know you want to protect me, but... you can't do that about things like that. I know you know better than anyone the risks of this job, the sacrifices it requires. But Bradley knows them as well, if not better, than you do. And as much as it scares me, as much as it scares us... we want to try… And even if you don't like it, we'll give it a try. Because I almost lost him once without really being able to be with him..."

Your father sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. From the kitchen window you could see Bradley playing with your nephews, under your mother's and in laws’ amused and tender eyes. A small smile crept across your lips as the little ones called you over to help hold Bradley down. You hurried to join them, and your mother joined your father.

"Our boys and the little ones seem to like this Lieutenant…”

“Seems like it…”  

“He reminds me a little of you when we first met..." Vivian chuckled to Beau as she hugged him. 

"Really?" the man wondered, "and how?"

"Well, he has that same sparkle in his eyes... the one that calls for adventure, that gentle and loving look when his eyes land on our Storm... and he's also very good with children," she laughed at his slightly embarrassed expression, "You should give him a chance... our princess looks so relaxed with him... look at her… look at her smile…"

He lifted his head and watched the two of you having fun with the three little boys and sighed. His wife was right. You looked so happy in Bradley's arms, waltzing and laughing with the kids. He'd never seen you look so radiant, as cliché as it sounded. Your brothers also seemed to have accepted the newcomer without too much fuss. So Beau seemed to be the only one who was uncomfortable with the whole situation.

He nodded and kissed his wife on the forehead. "Okay, I'll try... but I'm not promising anything."

Vivian rolled her eyes with a smile on her face. She knew for a fact that your father would quickly accept Bradley as well.

Lunch went off without a hitch, Beau swallowing his pride not to be as awkward with Bradley as possible, although he did draw a few murderous looks from your father when he put his hand a little too high on your thigh or lower back. After dessert, he helped your brothers put the kids down for a nap and let them share the convertible bed in your little study. Your sisters-in-law and your brother-in-law, Evan - Aaron's husband - helped you with the dishes. They gently teased you that Bradley was a very handsome young man and that you had chosen well. 

"I know I did. Look at you all, we Simpsons always have good taste," you sniped back with a wink and a teasing smile, making them laugh.

"Wait, wait, wait... So he was your regular booty call after your first assignment?" Evan seemed to realize. You shushed him and made sure that your parents didn't hear him say that. Annie laughed a little and grabbed your shoulder, making you look into her eyes. 

"I can see why you qualified him as the best sex of your life after the upper body I saw this morning," she teased you again, making your face completely flush. You practically begged her to stop talking about your sex life, very embarrassed. But the three of them could be little bullies and they loved to tease you sometimes.

"Guys, please stop. If my father hears you-"

"Hear what, Stormy?"

You turned and paled a little under your father's cold gaze and tight smile. Your sister-in-law and brother-in-law took the opportunity to run off like teenagers, and of course Bradley arrived just then, smiling carelessly. 

"The three cataclysms are finally asleep. Is everything okay in here?" he asked as he joined you in front of your father. He immediately wiped the smile off his face when he saw the look on Beau's face.

"You're lucky it's my wife's birthday, Bradshaw," he growled, his eyes staring straight into your souls, "but if I hear one more detail about your... nocturnal activities, I'm going to make sure that the two of you are as far away from each other as possible, even if it means sending one of you to Japan or Korea. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir," Bradley replied promptly, "Clear as day.”

"For God's sake, Dad, aren't you being a little extreme? I'm a responsible adult-"

"I'm warning you, I don't want another grandchild too soon. Keep it in your pants."

"Dad!!"

Just when you thought you couldn't get any more embarrassed, your dad had the right words. He left the two of you in the kitchen, muttering that he was getting too old for this. 

"Oh my God..." You cursed as you hid your face in your hands and turned towards the sink. Of all the weird things that could happen, you'd really hoped no one would mention your sex life. You felt a little angry, but more than that, you were extremely embarrassed. You let out a shaky breath, your hands gripping the counter as you lowered your head. You felt the warmth of Bradley's body enveloping you as he wrapped his arms around your waist, his front against your back and his chin resting on your shoulder.

"I'm so sorry..."

"Why are you apologizing, babe? I told you it would take more than that to scare me off... Maybe your dad hasn't fallen for the Bradshaw charm yet, but I'm working on it..." he tried to cheer you up, "And now I have an army of kids who love me, I can order them to defend me."

You smiled, amused at his silliness. "You're really good with kids, but I think it's them who will command you..."

"Maybe you're right," he laughed a little and kissed the hollow of your neck, his mustache tickling you, "but your mother has already adopted me. I'm protected."

You laughed with him, your embarrassment and anger disappearing. You leaned against him, enjoying the hug he offered you. These simple gestures were so comforting that it was almost frightening how quickly he could soothe you. You closed your eyes as he hummed and softly danced with you in the kitchen. It was so cliché, right out of a rom-com, but you couldn’t care less.

After a few minutes, you regained enough courage to join the rest of your family in the living room. Your in-laws gave you apologetic looks, and your brothers were a little lost, but didn't dare ask. 

For the rest of the afternoon, Bradley learned every little anecdote your mother had to share; whether it was about your brothers, you, or even your father, she was more than happy to share with him. Jamie and Alice had fallen asleep in the garden, making your mother smile in awe. Nathan laughed a little with Aaron. "We warned them that a newborn was exhausting, but they insisted on coming here their own way...". 

You laughed a little too, it was true they looked exhausted. But little Juliet was so cute that they forgot how tired they were. 

Speaking of her, the baby phone warned everyone that she was waking up. You volunteered to warm her bottle and Bradley went to get her. Alice had put the travel crib in your room so the other three children would not be disturbed if Juliet woke up. 

When the milk was at the right temperature, you joined Bradley in your room. Your cheeks flushed and you felt butterflies in your stomach when you saw him holding the little one. He rocked her gently, stroking her cheek with his index finger. He seemed so natural that it made you fall even more in love with him. 

You shook your head, your father's voice echoing in your head: "No more grandchildren for now.”

You joined him and let him gently place the baby in your arms. You smiled and fed the hungry five-month-old in your arms. Bradley leaned against the doorframe and watched you with a soft smile. You, too, were a natural with children. Juliet seemed so comfortable in your arms and you seemed so relaxed. He found himself daydreaming about the two of you having children together. He blushed as he imagined you pregnant with his baby... and Nathan giggled behind him. "Calm your horses Bradshaw, you're not putting a baby in my sister anytime soon."

Bradley's face turned as bright red as yours. "Nathan, shut up!" you yelled-whispered at him, careful not to disturb the eating baby in your arms.

“What? You heard our old man, "No more grandchildren for now!”” Nathan grinned and put his arm around Bradley's shoulders.

"I can't promise that..." Bradley mumbled softly, mesmerized by the sight of you holding Juliet against you as you burped her after she had finished her bottle. Nathan's eyes widened and he tried his best not to burst out laughing. "What did you say, Brad’ ? I think I misheard you?"

You blushed as you realized what your boyfriend had just said.

"I... Nothing!" Bradley defended himself weakly, very embarrassed. Nathan teased him until your mother told him to stop, threatening him with no cake after dinner. He immediately stopped and went to get his son after whispering to Bradley that he wouldn't forget what he had just said. You decided not to talk about it, feeling a little embarrassed as well.

It wasn't long before dinnertime arrived, and your father was relaxed and talking with Bradley. You even caught them laughing together. This interaction was reassuring for the rest of the evening.

As usual, your mother had cooked for a regiment, and your refrigerator was full of leftovers. She made Bradley promise to stop by the family home and look at the family albums and your childhood bedroom. He laughed a little but agreed. 

You walked everyone back to their cars, helped them with the kids' stuff, and your dad gave you one last hug and said good night. He said goodbye to Bradley with a slight smile and a quick hug. 

When everyone was gone, you collapsed on your sofa, drained of all energy. Bradley joined you with a smile and pulled you right into his arms.

"That didn't go so badly after all..."

You nodded, yawned and put your arms around him. You thought back to the day that had just passed, to that roller coaster of emotions, and laughed a little.

"So... eager to put a baby inside me Lieutenant?"

"Oh my God Y/N!!" Bradley blushed, hiding his face behind his fists in total embarrassment. You laughed and teased him about it. You preferred to take it as a joke because neither of you were anywhere near ready to have children of your own, you both agreed on that. Or did you?

He turned to you, a serious expression on his face.

"And what if I am? Would you... would you be on board to have kids with me? Not right now, of course, but... I... I can't imagine a future without you in it, and I'd like to have kids with you. I know we haven't really been together that long, but we've known each other for a long time... and oh my God, I'm rumbling," he groaned, rubbing his face before looking back at you. "What I mean is that I love you and I don't want to live without you. Maybe it's rushed, maybe you-"

You interrupted him, pulled him by the collar and kissed him. You didn’t know what came over you; maybe it was the fact that he had just admitted his feelings, or the fact that he was already planning a life with you. Maybe both. Certainly both.

"I love you too," you whispered between two kisses, "and I don't want to be without you either... and I would love to start a family with you someday, Lieutenant Bradshaw..."

You smiled, your forehead pressed against his, and he chuckled in relief.

"Today was really like you... a storm..." he sighed, smiling and stroking your cheeks.

"I know... are you sure you can keep up with my family?" you teased, "Now that you've messed with the storm, the cyclone will never be far away."

"Wouldn't have it any other way, Stormy."

[umbrify]

Your name is FailWhip. Second child of the Grimlands royal family. Your older sister’s name is GeminiTay. She will become the Countess. You will not.

Growing up, your sister Gemini was always held to high standard. She had special classes and tutors, she had a schedule and a calendar with which to keep track of it all. She had training in sword fighting and archery, as well as leadership and diplomacy.

You did not.

When you were very young, you asked Gemini why she was always so busy. She told you that she was gonna become the ruler of the Grimlands. She seemed excited.

You once asked your parents why she was so busy and you weren’t, why couldn’t you go with her? They waved you off, told you that you had no business getting in her way.

Spending time at the forge became a welcome reprieve from your home. The blacksmith seemed willing enough to ignore you, and you tried to stay out of the way. You enjoyed watching them work, occasionally tinkering with some loose scrap metal, when you could.

(You’d always wondered why you were named that. You could never bring yourself to ask, not wanting to hear the answer.)

When you were nine, Gemini called you into her room, late at night. She looked tired. She said she’d thought of a fun nickname for you, asked if you wanted to hear it. From then on, she called you fWhip. You started calling her Gem, and it seemed to make her smile.

She started looking more… exhausted. All the time. It looked like she hadn’t had a good nights sleep in weeks. You started doing her chores for her.

You’d gotten pretty alright at working the forge, over the years. It was better than staying in the castle— you always felt like you were in the way, at home. Like your parents wished you weren’t there.

(It wasn’t hard to figure out.)

When you were home, you tended to stay in your room.

Gem started sneaking out at night. You noticed, of course. You never said anything. Sometimes she would give you things, when she got home, in the early hours of the morning. Usually, the things were just little trinkets or machine parts.

The last time, she gave you a small purple crystal.

When you were fifteen, she ran away. Only a year before she was to become Countess.

All at once, the entire empire’s eyes were on you. You started taking all those classes that you wanted, all those years ago. You didn’t want them anymore. It didn’t matter what you wanted.

At sixteen, you got a nasty gash on your arm, from the sparring you were forced to do. You could feel the disappointed gaze of your parents constantly on your neck for the next week, while you recovered.

You always hoped Gem would come back, keeping that last gift tucked away safely in your nightstand. You were beginning to understand why she left. You couldn’t blame her for it.

At seventeen, a terrible sickness ravaged the Grimlands. You recovered. Your parents did not. The funeral was in the depth of winter, the ceremony long and cold. The whole empire mourned.

At seventeen, you became the youngest ever Count of the Grimlands. You were never supposed to. You sat upon one of the grand thrones, and wondered how you were supposed to do this alone.

At seventeen, you had to prove to the world that you were worth it. You didn’t even know where to start.

[lilacxquartz]

Those Late Summer Nights | Chapter 14

Satoru Gojo × Fem!Reader × Suguru Geto

ABOUT: You moved to Tokyo over the summer to take a teaching job. As you get settled in, you find yourself entangled in a toxic dynamic.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Suguru begins his first training session with you. Shoko in the meantime begins to piece things together while Satoru settles on a troubling decision.

< Previous Chapter • Next Chapter >

14. Fight, No Flight

You woke up on the sofa the next day alone.

The smell of fresh brewed coffee and eggs filled your senses, pulling you awake. Your eyes then fluttered open, jolted awake from the sound of dishes being placed on the coffee table right next to you.

Slowly stretching yourself awake, you continued to try and wrap the last month or so around your head.

What exactly did you get yourself into…?

Suguru crouched down to meet with your line of sight, his dark eyes studying yours before pulling back and glancing at the contents that lay spread out on the table.

“Training begins today, but it can’t happen on an empty stomach,” he said, breaking the silence at long last.

You blinked as you stifled a yawn, “D-do I still have to go through with that?”

“Yes,” he firmly replied, silencing any shred of doubt that still lingered in your mind.

“But-“

“—you’re doing this,” he interrupted, “besides, this isn’t just about self defence, this isn’t even about me teaching you how to hurt people. It’s about me teaching you how to not let anyone touch you ever again.”

You couldn’t help but feel a wave of unease wash over your body as he told you this. sounding so serious and almost cold. His words carried spite and almost resentment in them.

You wanted to reply but you couldn’t form proper words just yet.

“You’re going to be responsible for the first year kids this year anyway, aren’t you?” he asked, thinking of a way to get you motivated.

You finally got something out at last; a questioning hum as you made eye contact.

“You can’t look weak in front of your students,” he clarified.

“I-I guess not,” you replied, letting out a resigned sight. He was correct about that much.

Suguru pulled you upright into a sitting position to further wake you up, “The cursed spirits that reside in the cities are probably nothing like the ones you know back home,” he paused as his expression turned slightly bitter before continuing, “this city is so full… of hatred and it shows.”

Gulping, you understood what he was trying to get across. Your eyes focused once again on the food right in front of you; coffee and a rolled omelette, looking surprisingly good to your exhausted mind.

“Eat up,” he said, attempting to be strict yet comforting at the same time, “muscle needs protein and I’m going to make you strong.”

You nodded as you ate the meal in silence while he left for the bedroom. You could hear shuffling and the creaking swing of doors before he emerged with a duffle bag, chucking it right next to the front door.

You warily looked at it, hearing some sort of wooden clattering as the bag settled.

“Don’t worry about that just yet,” Suguru reassured, “it’s equipment, but you won’t need it today.”

He wanted to get you into using swords to fight with, but that much was for deep into the late stage of training. For now he wanted for you to learn the basics.

You settled into the coffee and sipped it, his eyes trained on you as you finished every last drop.

You couldn’t help but look less and less forward to this session.

Once you were ready, he unfolded his arms and took the dirty dishes away from you without making a fuss, “Go get dressed; something ideally comfortable, loose fitting maybe.”

“A-all of my clothes are at-“

“—oh right,” he replied before you could finish your sentence, forgetting that you didn’t actually live with him full time just yet and you were just existing in a series of t-shirts he kept giving you to wear, “…One moment.”

You nodded as you observed him slip away off to the bedroom again, watching as he came back with a change of clothes that he then threw over to where you sat.

“These should be fine,” he said, “they’re my old workout clothes, used to wear them when I was a bit younger so it might be closer to your size.”

You hesitantly picked up the change of clothes, intending to go and change in the bathroom but Suguru stopped you in your tracks before you could go anywhere else.

“You can get changed right here, can’t you?” he asked.

You stiffly nodded in response, reminding yourself that he had already both seen and touched every part of you already so technically it was fine. The problem was everything else that had happened before that threw you into an uncomfortable loop.

Also, just the fact alone that he was already fully dressed and behaving a certain way while you slowly took your clothes off and the way his eyes settled on your exposed skin left you feeling deeply uncomfortable. It was as though there was some sort of power imbalance going on, especially with how a subtle smile tugged at his lips.

Once you were fully dressed however, he pulled you away from your troubled thoughts and towards him instead; taking the strings at the waist of the sweatpants you wore, tying them tight against your hips.

“There we go,” he said, his gaze softening before turning around, swinging the duffle bag over his shoulder, sticking out his other hand out for you to take, “now come along.”

You took hold of his hand as he pulled you closer to him, gradually walking you out of his apartment building and into his car. He threw the bag into the back seat while opening up the front passenger side for you to get into.

Driving this time with Suguru felt less heated, perhaps more settled even. He didn’t attempt to feel you up even if you did remain tense the entire ride. Your eyes drifted off to the side of the window either way, paying attention to where you were going—the city becoming less and less busy as he parked into a sleepy neighbourhood.

By the time you were outside, he led you into a private studio of some kind with tinted windows while you reluctantly stepped inside the second that he left you in.

Throwing the bag onto the floor and kicking it underneath a table, he locked the door to the studio once again, ensuring zero interruption. As he led you into the main area just beyond the door, you were met with an airy interior that boasted cedar panelling along the sides of the room, high bordering windows and dusty mats that concealed what seemed to be a hardwood floor.

“Nobody else uses this place or knows about it,” Suguru broke the silence as he watched you take it in, “I haven’t been in here for a while either.”

As he took a few steps away from you to stretch and crack his neck, you warily anticipated at what he had in mind for you. Your unease only continued to grow as he positioned himself into a defensive stance, his eyes intently focused on yours.

“Try hitting me,” Suguru instructed, his tone deadly serious.

You blinked, “What?”

Suguru smiled in response, amused by your hesitance, “Try it. Hit me.”

For some reason, this whole situation felt strangely humiliating. You already knew that he wasn’t going to let you do so and you didn’t want to lose whatever shred of dignity you had left in life.

“…Do I have to?” you asked.

“I’m not letting you leave until you land a hit on me,” he said as his smile grew wider.

Resigning into a sigh, you entertained his request as you tried to land a punch in what you determined was a vulnerable spot. However, he caught onto your attempt right away and stopped you before you could even get close.

Not only did he block it with ease, but the retaliation hurt.

“The problem with fighting is that people tend to fight back,” he said, giving you a window to listen.

“What if I simply just don’t pick fights?” you asked with some hope, fully well understanding that you would need to train at some point regardless if you were to protect your students on field trips.

He titled his head off to the side playfully, “That’s not always up to you though, is it?”

“So why am I not learning self defence instead?”

“Because that’s just prevention,” he replied, his smile slowly fading away as his expression darkened, “I want you to learn how to kill.”

“And this isn’t extreme in any way?” you asked, feeling that all too familiar feeling of wariness flood your body.

“I don’t think so. This world is cruel, so you need to be cruel back,” he said, repositioning himself to a defensive posture once more. “Now, try again.”

With a heavy sigh, you tried to do so again and again. The experience as a whole was starting to exhaust you, both physically and mentally as his reflexes were driving you almost to the brink of insanity with his resistance.

If this was simple, as he called it, then you could only begin to imagine what he had in store for something intermediate.

This wasn’t even fighting either, this was just prolonged humiliation; this was that same sort of power imbalance you felt from him earlier being practised in the most brutal form.

But then to your surprise and also his, you finally got a hit on him.

His eyes widened with excitement as you finally breached his defensive barrier and to an extent, you felt accomplished as you did so too.

He relaxed after that, seeming to be done with you for the day.

“Good job,” he praised, “although, next time you’re gonna block a hit from me.”

“I-I am?” you asked as you could feel the blood drain from your face.

“When you hit me again, I’m gonna hit you back.”

You stood still and simply blinked.

“I’ll be gentle though,” he assured you, “just for you. I’ll only go as rough as you can take it.”

His tone was almost flirty as he spoke to you, some genuine playfulness cracking through what you perceived as a cold exterior. The warmth that he shared with you felt nice on the inside, but left your heart feeling all the more confused.

“Anyway,” he settled a little, redirecting your attention to more important matters, “we should get something to eat.”

“R-right,” you nodded, feeling the hunger boil within you again. You worked up such a sweat that it felt like you hadn’t eaten all day even though you knew that much wasn’t true.

You continued to feel confused as he led you elsewhere now, the kindness in his personality finally showing itself to you, the playfulness that he kept from you.

It was so confusing, it all hurt so much.

He hurt you so much.

But you couldn’t help but feel a certain way.

Was there something wrong with you for being like that?

***

The following night, he decided that it was fine to take you back home to Shoko’s apartment. The food that you both shared after that session was absorbed almost instantly into your body as it was a type of hunger you had never felt before.

You were so hungry, so sore.

He hovered right outside of the door before he let you go on without him.

“I’ll give you a couple of days to recover,” he said as he thought about what else to say, “if you need to go out, text me and let me know where. If you’re still feeling sore on the day we have to train next, don’t be scared to tell me so I don’t talk you into something that could potentially be harmful to your body.”

You nodded as he spoke, finding his requests surprisingly reasonable.

“Promise me?” he asked.

“Yeah, I-I will,” you confirmed.

Suguru smiled as he now left you to enter your apartment at your own will without saying another word. Earlier on in your friendship, back when you were still trying to properly get a read on him, you would have seen this action as quite rude.

Slowly but surely however, he was becoming the easiest one to understand out of the three of them though. He never once hid his intentions from you, even when he hurt you.

Actions always spoke louder than words, for better or for worse.

“Aah, you’re back,” Shoko greeted you as she ate something at the table, her eyes squinting as she recognised the old Jujutsu High gym clothes, recognising a particular tear on the collar of the t-shirt that sparked a memory in her mind, “…and wearing Suguru’s clothes?”

“Uh,” you faltered, feeling embarrassed as she could recognise them.

“Hey, I mean, it’s not my business to judge what you get up to,” she replied in a neutral voice, even if her face did seem a little curious, “you look kinda rough. Was that him too?”

“N-not in that way,” you stammered as you scrambled your words, hoping that she didn’t register the muffled talking outside and the weary look as being dropped off after a hookup.

“Hey, I mean, I’m not judging~” she smiled as she teased you just a little. She seemed to not poke as much fun at you as she did when you admitted to kissing Satoru.

“H-he um, was teaching me to fight and-“

“—how to wrestle~?”

“No, like, actually.”

“Oh… you’re being serious,” she understood as she finally recollected herself and toned down the teasing. She then poured herself some red wine, pointing the bottle at you since she figured you might want to relax.

You nodded as you took a stemmed glass out of the cabinet, grabbing a seat with her as you poured some for yourself too.

“Tell me all about it?” she asked.

You stared at the drink and considered the thought; you were definitely in some dire need of relaxation because you were surely burnt out from everything that had happened up to this point. At the same time though, you couldn’t tell her completely everything so you settled on a controlled amount just so that the surface of her curiosity could be answered.

“Y-yeah… yeah, alright, why not?” you said at last.

She leaned over the table as she gulped down a sip. The red wine left a hint of redness on her cheeks as she got started earlier on without you, appearing to be properly relaxed and without under eye bags for once. You wanted more of that for her since she seemed to be in a much better state than usual.

“So,” she continued, “fighting?”

“Yeah, um, he said that I needed to know how to fight back against certain situations so that what happened before doesn’t happen to me again,” you explained, thinking it made enough sense.

“That’s nice of him,” she considered, “I suppose you might as well though, can’t look weak in front of those kids you’re gonna be overseeing.”

You let out a gentle snort, finding yourself experiencing indirect deja vu, “He said the same thing actually.”

“Would you look at that, my wisdom is finally rubbing off on him,” she beamed as she leaned back, her wrist swirling around the glass as the wine sloshed around, although she started to notice some details.

From the way you looked tired to the way your eyes looked blank. There was something off about you in a way that didn’t point to something healthy going on at all.

A moment of tense silence brewed between the two of you.

Shoko suddenly seemed serious, leaning forward and setting her drink aside on the table, “[name]?”

“Yes?” you asked, shaking your troubling thoughts away.

“Did something happen?” she asked, taking hold of your wrist and rubbing it with her thumb, her gaze softening as she read more and more into the way you presented yourself.

“N-no, it didn’t,” you tried to retaliate, desperately hoping to not talk about it.

Shoko didn’t want to push you, but she could read between the lines and tell that something was amiss. You weren’t really acting like yourself anymore and it seemed to always get worse after you spent time with Suguru, therefore, he was clearly doing something you didn’t like.

Still, she dropped the topic for now. Deciding to take matters into her own hands the next time she saw him, because if he was doing something genuinely wrong, then regardless of how close they both were, she couldn’t let something potentially abusive continue.

“Ah, it’s alright,” she sighed, forcing a smile as she reunited with her drink, “think I just missed a spot on ya, let me know the next morning and I’ll fix your face up properly.”

You nodded along, thankful for her attempt at normalcy even though you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed that you were so terribly easy to read. In a way, you wanted for her to find out, just so that you didn’t have to carry the weight of this whole thing alone.

The conversation otherwise continued like this for a while; you explained as much as you could while leaving out the problematic details while she listened, choosing to bite her tongue when she heard something that didn’t sit quite right.

You both drank on into the night. Even if you did leave a lot out, it was still nice to talk to someone who didn’t pressure you on other sorts of topics.

For the most part, she was curious about his feelings towards you and whether or not he was being stupid. She wasn’t going to pressure you for the details if you didn’t want to give them though.

It was mostly just that Suguru was seldom interested in long term relationships and if he was helping you learn how to defend yourself, that meant he was acting out of care. At the same time though, if you felt bad after spending time with him, then he must have been doing something wrong.

As his friend, she always wanted for him to actually find that special someone and you weren’t a bad person in her eyes—although she did have a slight concern with how much you’re tolerating. You still had a problem with standing your own ground and she hoped that he was being decent to you, but who really knew what went on behind closed doors?

Eventually however, the two of you did start to feel rather drowsy as the night grew late and the warmth from the booze began to hit.

You both quietly stumbled off to your rooms, ready to end the day at last.

You closed your eyes to surrender to sleep while Shoko gave into a deep thought, convinced that there was something you weren’t telling her.

***

Satoru meanwhile simmered away in his penthouse, overlooking the night skyline with flickering golden lights moving along busy roads.

Having spent the day earlier on with Suguru, had still been left with more questions than answers, not quite buying what his good friend had been telling him. It felt almost a little like a lie…? To think that Suguru had made a move on you and you just accepted over the course of time seemed a little unrealistic to him, especially how you reacted to that little kiss.

Especially to how you reacted when he let slip of his composure and did something he almost regretted back in the alley. He was confused, mostly. He didn’t understand why it all seemed to go wrong from the moment you left the town with him, as if being in that place all alone with him had been the binding glue.

He knew that deep down, Suguru might have talked you into something that he shouldn’t have done. Satoru knew you pretty well by now and how you wouldn’t have dared to even spend a night away from Shoko’s if you could help it.

While Satoru himself did coax you into spending the night with him in that guest house—spending a night in a place like Suguru’s literal apartment, seemed not like you at all.

In the midst of his overthinking, his pocked buzzed. Shoko’s name lit up with a little text, asking if he knew anything about the relationship between you and Suguru, that she’s thinking it seems a little too off.

Another text came. Something about him teaching you to fight, although the words were scrambled. Shoko was likely drinking again so that was the cause, but he didn’t want to deal with that just yet. Maybe tomorrow when he had more time to put his personality back together.

Not while he was going through something.

He didn’t reply, pretending to be asleep instead. He felt conflicted, mostly. Knowing properly well that there must have been more behind this whole thing than what he was seeing and in a way, succumbing to jealousy the more he thought about the whole situation and just how messed up it truly was.

No, he was livid. His supposed friend, his best friend who had gotten to you in a much more sinister way, all the while he had been trying to be good. The thought in his mind had settled—Suguru must have done something to you, but rather than fight for you, he chose to give into something he usually didn’t bother with for once.

Satoru hummed as he considered it, slinking off back to bed, eyes drifting off to the dark ceiling. He could absolutely talk you into something too, probably could be just as convincing if not more.

Suguru didn’t want to share, but no matter what—he’d get his way, he’d sample just a little more to call it even.

Even if it hurts you.

[blackholelynn]

I DO NOT KNOW IF YOU TAKE REQUEST BUT I SAW UR WRITING FOR TWILIGHT AND IM BEGGING YOU, CAN YOU DO LIKE THE READER GETS DRUNK N EDWARD HAS TO TAKE CARE OF THEM OR SOMETHING !! I LOVEE YOUR WRITING BTW

Princess Carriage

Summary: You have a few too many drinks while out with Angela and Jessica, leaving Edward to be the one to take care of you while you sober up.

Pairings: Edward Cullen x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol/drinking

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: Thank you so much for this request! I ended up getting caught up in some stuff irl which meant I couldn't finish the Twilight Appreciation Week event that I was hoping to keep doing, but I will take any excuse to write more for Twilight! And I am finding myself loving writing for Edward!! So I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it 🥰

~~~

Bass boomed around you, filling your chest with a dull thrum at every beat. The lights above you pulsated with different colors. Your arms felt sticky with a mix of sweat and whatever had spilled on the bar earlier in the night. The small glass pinched between your fingers held a pink liquid that you didn’t remember the name of, but it tasted like sweet berries and nothing like alcohol. That might have been why you had drunk three or four in the last hour without a second thought.

The sound of garbled speech hit your ears, and you turned in bewilderment to Jessica, standing beside you with a large grin. “What?!” You had to scream to be heard over the music.

“I said!” she started, grabbing your glass out of your hand. “I think you’ve had enough.”

A childish pout formed on your lips as you reached for the glass, but no matter how many times you thought you had grabbed it, you must have missed it by an inch. “Please! I paid for that!”

“Actually, a guy paid for it before getting shot down so hard I thought he might cry.”

“I’m taken, but that doesn’t mean I won’t accept a free drink.”

Jessica tried to stifle her giggle to remain stern but failed. “Okay, I’m just as guilty. But seriously.” She regained her disciplined facade as she put the drink back down on the bar and hooked her arm with yours. “I think it’s time to get some bad food and call it a night.”

You hadn’t realized how drunk you were until the mention of food made your stomach do a backflip, and you shook your head adamantly. “Maybe we just go home.”

“Yeah, I think that’s for the best. Let’s go get Ange and blow this place.”

You followed closely on Jessica’s very high heels, making sure to keep a hold of her. The staggering amount of people you had to walk through hadn’t fazed you before, but now that your head was spinning, it felt like walking through a fun house.

When you reached Angela, your head was swimming so much that you couldn’t concentrate on what your two friends were saying to each other. You only registered Angela’s relief at the prospect of leaving, and then you were all bee-lining it to the exit.

Once you got outside, the cool air quelled the nausea that started crawling up your throat. Angela and Jessica helped you into the passenger seat, and it was obvious to them how awful you were feeling. Jessica got in the back seat behind you and put her hands on your shoulders.

When Angela started the car, she quickly glanced in your direction. “Are you feeling alright?”

You silently shook your head, groaning a bit when the motion caused your nausea to come back. A rustling noise came from the backseat before Jessica handed you a plastic bag.

“Always prepared,” Angela quipped with a sheepish smile.

You leaned your head back against the headrest as the car started moving. “Thank god for that.”

Angela dropped Jessica off first, considering her house was the closest of the two. However, when she started turning around in the driveway, you realized that you shouldn’t go back to your house like this. You were sure that your house would be in an uproar if you arrived home close to being blackout drunk, and in the spur of the moment, you made an alternative decision.

“Ange,” you started, still hesitant about the choice. “Do you mind driving me to Edward’s place?”

She stopped mid-turn, raising an eyebrow at you. “Are you sure? I don’t know…”

“I don’t want to go home like this.” Seeing she was still not convinced, you added, “And I know he wouldn’t do anything. I’ll even call him to make sure it’s alright.”

She took some time to contemplate before she relented and nodded. You pulled out your phone and called Edward, already having him on your speed dial. It only rang once before he picked up.

“Is something wrong?” His voice seemed erratic, and you could only imagine what was running through his head. You had never once called him at this hour of the night.

“No,” you assured him, “I just wanted to know if it was alright if Ange drove me to your house. We were…out. I don’t want to go home.”

The silence signaled that he had the whole situation figured out. It wouldn’t be hard, considering your slurred speech. His lack of response started to create dread within you. Was he upset? How could he be upset with you for having fun?

“Do you need me to get anything for you? How are you feeling?” But he wasn’t upset. His voice was tender and soft as he asked.

You let out a small sigh of relief. “No, you don’t need to get anything. I’ll feel better when I see you. Ange is driving me there now.”

“I’ll meet you both at the end of the driveway and drive you the rest of the way.”

“That’s probably for the best.” You were about to hang up before you tacked on, “Thank you for this. I love you.”

He let out a light-hearted chuckle on the other end. “Anytime. I love you too.”

Your head felt airy when you hung up your phone, holding it to your chest with a dopey grin. The car started moving again, slowly inching towards the road.

Finally, Angela spoke up. “I’m taking it I can drive you over there?”

“Yeah, he’ll meet us at the end of the driveway. Oh, take a left here.”

Angela heeded your directions, and you couldn’t miss the smile on her face. “I’m glad you have him. You practically light up just by talking to him on the phone.”

You sheepishly put your hands up to obscure your face. You were sure you still looked like someone in an ad for a dating app with how wide your grin was. It wasn’t anything that could be helped, though. Edward always had that effect on you.

You continued to give directions (the best you could, considering how drunk you were), and after only a few wrong turns, you managed to pull up to the Cullens’ driveway, where Edward’s silver Volvo sat waiting for you like a carriage. He wasted no time coming to your door and helping you out into the cold night, thanking Angela profusely.

“Just make sure she’s sober enough for our brunch tomorrow, or Jessica will kill me,” Angela pleaded through her open window.

You gave her a weak thumbs up with the arm that wasn’t clutching Edward’s middle for dear life. With that, she seemed assured enough to drive back onto the road and into the night.

Lowering yourself into the Volvo, you looked at Edward with a smile, “You’re my knight in shining armor.”

“I would give that honor to Angela since she got you here safely, but I’ll settle for being your prince,” he answered cheekily. He kissed the tip of your nose as he leaned over to buckle your seatbelt.

You snorted and swatted him on the shoulder. “Don’t get too far ahead of yourself. You’re making me want to take back all the nice things I was going to say about you.”

“I could drive you home inste–”

“No! Nope, you’re absolutely the best anyone could ask for. Just get in here and drive so I can sleep.”

He laughed and got into the driver’s side of the car. The short ride back up to the Cullens’ house was long enough that you started to nod off, so when the car stopped, you didn’t even want to get up.

Edward opened the door for you, and he effortlessly scooped you into his arms when he saw your drowsiness. “You’re acting like a cranky child. You know that, right?”

“Mmm,” you muttered, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. “Don’t care.”

“I don’t even want to imagine your headache tomorrow morning.”

At this point, his amused words fell on mostly deaf ears as you fell deeper asleep in his arms. You didn’t even register how fast he had you into bed, with mere seconds passing before you were safely tucked away under the covers.

He was just about to leave to get you a glass of water when you clutched his shirt sleeve. “Don’t go.”

“I won’t be long. I promise.”

“You better,” you mumbled, reluctantly letting go. It was always interesting that he would let you hold him still, and he didn’t just break free from your grasp. He could do it easily enough no matter how hard you held on, but nevertheless, he would always stay until you let go.

Edward was only gone for the time it took you to blink, and he was back in the room, setting down the glass of water and a bottle of over-the-counter pain medication on the nightstand beside you. “I always keep my promises.”

“Yeah, just shut up and cuddle.” You pulled your arms out from under the comforter to make grabby hands at him. You were sure you looked ridiculous, but you couldn’t be bothered at that moment. Honestly, it was a miracle you were still awake and coherent.

He didn’t protest or say anything else, aside from laughing a bit, and crawled into the bed beside you. He made sure to lay above the comforter in the hopes that it would keep him from making you too cold throughout the night. You draped your arm over his middle and latched onto him before immediately falling asleep.

And he was right. Your headache the following day was truly awful. It had to have been the headache from hell because you could hear everything as soon as you woke up. And all that noise hurt worse than anything you’d felt in a long time.

He noticed as soon as you stirred in your sleep, noting the scrunched up expression on your face. “What’s wrong, love?”

“Headache,” you rasped out. You didn’t realize how dry your mouth was until you tried to talk. Before you could ask, Edward handed you the glass of water he had prepared the night before. The cool liquid soothed your throat instantly. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And here, take some of these.” He gently laid two pills into your hand. “Those should help with the headache.”

You quickly took them, grimacing once they were down. “I don’t think I want to get out of bed at all.” You reached across him to set the glass back on the nightstand before deciding that you’d like to stay like that, so you laid across him lazily. “Everything hurts.”

“Too much alcohol will do that,” he teased, rubbing your temples with his cold fingers. The relief was instant, and he had a self-satisfied smirk on his face after your hum of approval. “You do remember that you have brunch with Angela and Jessica?”

You groaned and turned over onto your back, turning your face towards him. “I don’t want to go. Jessica’s the one that dragged me out last night.”

“I don’t think it’s fair to blame her for how drunk you got.”

You frowned but conceded, “No…it’s not. But I still don’t want to go.”

“Angela was adamant about me getting you to that brunch.” When he still hadn’t convinced you, he added, “I can drive you there.”

“In the Volvo?”

“Yes, in the Volvo.”

You playfully pretended to think about it. “Hmm…so you’re telling me I get to spend extra time with you and show up in an expensive car? I don’t know…”

“Come on,” he chuckled, picking you up as he escaped from the warm confines of the bed. You giggled as his cold hands held your waist, and he set you down in front of the dresser that had some of your clothes in it. “Get dressed, so I don’t have those two angry with me.”

You laughed even harder at that statement. “You’re afraid of Angela and Jessica? You?”

“Yes,” he answered with finality. “They’re intimidating.”

You both were now laughing before Edward finally calmed down enough to leave the room, allowing you to change. You opened a drawer of the dresser, your drawer, and picked out the outfit you wanted to wear for the day. Your whole body still felt like you’d gotten hit by a truck, but you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face. Even when you overdid it, Edward was always right there by your side. Through thick or thin, he was there. How had you gotten so lucky?

The honk of the Volvo’s honk snapped you out of your daze, and you looked out the window to see Edward leaning against the car. When he saw you through the window, he motioned towards the car as though it were a carriage. You rolled your eyes and made your way downstairs, endlessly happy. Edward truly was your prince, although getting you to admit it to him would take a bit more work.

[ss-shitstorm]

Writing erotic reader-insert fanfiction is so bizarre bc you’re basically fucking hundreds, if not thousands of strangers better than they’ve ever been fucked IRL but you had to use their blorbo as a strap-on to do it.

[phantomstatistician]

Fandom: Homestuck

Sample Size: 17,527 stories

Source: AO3

NOTE: This chart only includes fanfics between 4/13/16 - 2/29/24, as requested.

[minzart]

His trusted collector

Pantalone x reader

childhood friends, gender neutral reader, debt collector reader, no warnings worth mentioning yet, may have planned 2 more parts in this one

Ao3 version

" "Oh, it's you… you are earlier for once" he gives you a small smile with open eyes "so I take it was a good journey back was it?"

And for a moment, you remember the boy you unlikely met. "

(1) A strange boy who grows to be a peculiar man (2)

You remember how you two met, or better saying, how he was annoyingly... persistent

You walk pass the massive doors of the northland bank, the freezing cold being melted by deceiving warmth of this place, but you don't mind, it is comforting nonetheless  , and familiar yet different, you have been away for months now and again the place changed. Perhaps for security reasons, perhaps a new interesting client has come visiting, perhaps your boss was just feeling rarely generous with the renovations. Either way it's not your business to pry, not today, today is a day of good news, a mission successfully fulfilled in more ways than expected.

A polite smile greets you by the main hall's secretary, young, newly employed, one of the few lucky to enter by her own volition rather than a debt or being "properly" fatui, which means…she does not know you, a blessing you think. "Good evening! How may I help you?"

You smile back "thank you, for you as well. I'm supposed to have an appointment half an hour from now if I'm not mistaken" stating your name with a patient smile you see the girl take a notebook from her desk and rise looking through the many drawers behind her desk "with Lord Regrator"

She immediately freezes and goes back to her desk, another notebook opened, a small one, one you know will be burned by tomorrow. She smiles and confirms your name, giving you unspoken permission to enter, she, however, still gives you instructions to get to his office, not that you would need, but you listen anyways.

You have picked, by the years, his subtle way of decorating the path he takes every day, so even if he changed his office location you would be able to track it down, it was the bare minimum, after all that was your job as his debt collector, tracking others down. The higher you go the more guarded it gets, Fatui agents now on each door, some greet you with a nod, others stay frozen in place, and some, bow. Lazy steps you take until his door, pompous like the ego he pretends to have and has, to others, decorated with intricate carvings and his symbol at the center, if in doubt, look for the most expensive; and heavy, so heavy, why does he torture you so with this heavy ass door; door you could imagine.

You knock on that door since the agents beside you decided that bowing was a good idea instead of asking who you are, you don't hear anything, but you feel the confusion inside of it, after all people were announced to him, and your knock was purposefully made without gloves, a rarety among the fatui's wardrobe.

"Enter" you hear his voice, laced with fake politeness, a dose of caution and a sigh of tiredness before it that only sharp ears could hear.

You do so "Lord Pantalone, I believe we have an appointment" you close the door behind.

For a moment his eyes open in surprise and you fight to suppress a chuckle, his hair is done, clothes expensive, skin perfect and glasses slowly sliding down from its place because of his slight slip of mask, his hand slowly putting away the gun you knew he had taken thanks to the unusual knock.

"Oh, it's you… you are earlier for once" he gives you a small smile with open eyes "so I take it was a good journey back was it?"

And for a moment, you remember the boy you unlikely met.

It was a peacefully busy day at the market, a perfect day for your tiny hands to get the food you so desperately needed after two days of starvation and spoiled trash. You made sure to put your good clothes on, even if they are still worn, those are still your best pair, one you make sure to always hide carefully in places you hope never to be disturbed, you need to look comum, you need to blend in, and you need an opportunity.

And an opportunity was blessed to you, a skinny boy with worned out clothes, squinting eyes and pleading voice as the owner of the bench raised him up from the ground with a crushing grip in his fists, the boy held on to the three apples he hoped to run off with for dear life. The boy was like you, and like you he would take any chance like this if he wasn't the one who got caught first, so you run, grabbing one single apple and running off, the adrenaline pumping your veins and fear driving you forward, but you make one mistake, you look back.

Locking eyes with the boy, his gold, frustrated, painfully tired and angry, eyes, that for a second… you bump into the bench, a strong bump… you pushed the bench, it falls… it breaks, the fruits scattering the owner screams in rage at your direction, you don't look back anymore.

Your tiny footsteps with full velocity automatically guide you back to relative safety, you jumped and skipped and dogged, until finally sliding down a cold wall, devouring what would be your weekly heathy meal, perhaps you would get lucky and it wouldn't turn into a two week healthy meal. Your accelerated breath forming puffs of white steam out of your mouth, your hot insides clashing with the cold outside, you sit there, looking at it, letting your mind be momentary mesmerized by it's patterns in the air before disappearing again, letting yourself feel momentarily like the age you are, the smoke spirals up and away from your hands.

"What do you want" you hear a scratchy voice beside you, you jump up and face the kid who found you… how did he find you and why was he here…

"What?" You try your best poker face, you noticed him doing the same, but his squinting eyes make him look angry more than neutral.

"Why did you help me? Back there. What do you want from me?" His eyes continued to pierce you, you start massaging your temples.

You knew paranoia when it confronted you face to face, many wanna-be nine-year-old-"tug lords" had it and looked for a reason to indebt you to them or feared they were somehow indebted to you, which, no, they weren't, you didn't had the patience for that shit, that, however, never meant you didn't knew an opportunity when it was smacking you in your face as well "I dunno, what do you think I want from you?"

"You tell me, it was you who helped me back at the market" ah… you… had forgotten his face already, alright you can work with this, you think… you hope.

"You had three apples didn't you?"

"I only managed to get two"

"I saw three" His left eye twitches ever so slightly, you smile and continue "you were holding them tightly too, you have experience in this I can tell" you couldn't, but his eye twitches again so you assume it's correct "scared little poor boy voice isn't gonna work with me if I have heard it plenty of times you know… besides…" you remember one clear thing about him, his eyes, now not even a glimpse of that boiling anger at that moment "you got the eyes of someone like me"

You two continue in silence for a moment, him probably trying to see what you meant, you just waiting for his response, worst case scenario he's got a gang and is gonna beat you up, best case scenario you gain one more apple. So you wait… and wait… and… ok this is ridiculous "look, I didn't mean to help you I was just clumsy and you got lucky or whatever, can you go away now? I wanna go rest…"

His firm eyes comically wide before you, his mask totally broken "Clumsy?!"

"Yeah, now shoo, I don't want anyone knowing where I sleep" you take this as an opportunity to push him out of the way and go.

He has other plans tho.

"I don't buy it" he runs to your side, matching his steps with yours "The look on your face said it was a calculated mistake "

And he was pouting now, Archons give you patience he was an annoying one "what look?"

"A knowing look"

"And what does a "knowing look" looks like?" You badly mimic his enfasis voice "if you didn't notice I don't look at many mirrors" you show an old stain in your clothes, and make a point to pull the threads that are slowly being undone by time in your sleeves.

"Listen just tell me what do you want as payment and you will never see me again" he growls in frustration, to anyone of the outside you two looked like two friends bantering "I hate being indebted"

"You aren't indebted, leave me alone" you roll your eyes guiding you two in circles through the street, just hoping for this brat to leave.

"Yes I am" if looks could kill you would be burning alive now "I don't have any proof that you won't hunt me down and ask for favors later so just say how to repay you already"

"I won't hunt you down later" you state as a matter of fact "is that proof enough for you?"

"Absolutely not" he looks offended "word of mouth has no value at all!"

"What do you want me to do? Write a contract?" You laugh "I don't even know how to write my name"

"There!" He holds you in place, determination shining in his eyes, an all too proud smile blooming in his red cheeks "I can! I can teach you!"

"..." You look at him with a deadpan face "or you can just give me one apple"

"What?!" The boy looks mortified "you are gonna let this opportunity pass?!"

"That's an unfair exchange" you lock your eyes again "too generous"

You see his eyes wide a bit, a small oh showing his shock, caught in the act "I don't like being indebted either golden boy" you finish.

He looks at you, truly, acknowledges you, his eyes loose spark, mouth in a thin line "what do you mean?"

"That I don't have any guarantee that you wouldn't guilt me in being indebted to you because of this, extremely generous offer"

"I wouldn't-"

" "word of mouth has no value at all", you said it yourself" you hold his gaze a bit more, then you blink and shake your head, tired from the day "just… let me be. I have no interest in being one more of your peons or whatever you call your gang"

He looks sincerely puzzled, you would give him an Oscar if you weren't broke and homeless. Taking the opportunity you slide around him and leave that strange boy behind.

That boy grows to be the man sitting in this fancy desk, with piles upon piles of paperwork, old name long casted aside for a theater character's one, not that it wasn't in brand for him to change it before. This one just stuck the longest of all names he ever took upon tho. And the most important one as well, and here you are, despite a rough first encounter you stuck by his side.

An unknown memory of a past no-one is supposed to know as deeply as you do, and despite the odds, he still lets you live. A gamble he makes every day, and every day you make sure to prove him wrong and stick to his side, over and over again, loyalty unmatched, eyes knowing and efficiency letal.

"A good journey indeed" you make yourself comfortable in the assigned client chair "payment and debt collected, a favor waiting it's orders from that noble in mondstad… milord"

He rolls his eyes in amusement, focusing back on his so loved papers "anything worth noting?"

That was your cue to over-explain a boring journey with details and names you had to write down, else you forget , that's how he does things, names and places, always one thought away from information, always one eye ahead to potential investments and clients. Generous offers exchanged for generous opportunities.

By the time you end your tale one third of his work is done, and he looks at you, attention not completely there, lost in thoughts, you don't mind, it's to be expected he was bored and you, being his little distraction, is already losing his interest. You look at him in return, comparing the skinny little boy to the healthier man in your mind, the only thing you miss is how more spontaneous his expressions were, but you also understand why they needed to go. Business.

"Your glasses are falling again" you point out casually, playing with one of his pens to distract yourself.

He blinks to awareness, a small glimmer of disappointment passes through the corner of his lips as he adjusts his glasses, and frowns a bit noticing they were perfect in place already "yes, here is your files, I expect your report by tomorrow at this same time"

You pout at him "at this rate you are going to work me dead"

He chuckles "you had worse deadlines than that"

Yes. You had. But still ten pages minimum to tomorrow was a pain in the ass "fine, it's not like I need to rest or anything"

You rise from your seat, taking the files with you, and dramatically walks to the door.

"Welcome back"

You stop by the door, that was more of a whisper than a sentence, and yet it stopped you faster than any barked order. You fit the door's handle, the piles of accumulated paperwork that he hates, the dark circles barely visible through his carefully applied foundation, the small tint of red in his ears.

"I missed you too" you answer walking off, not looking back.

[w1ngedv01d]

"Where are we going, Bishop Shamura?" the softer kit asks, eyes wide with a hope that has not yet died.

You keep walking, the other toddler clutched under one of your arms. He has tried to bite you. It is out of curiosity, so you don't stop him.

The softer kit is holding your hand and walking along side you. He is scared, but doing an impressive job at maintaining calm for a five year old boy. You think of Narinder when he was young, before age and greed stole his softness away.

You do not answer the question.

You arrive, now: You are at the place of the sacrifice. The kit in your arm is crying. The one clutching your hand has gone pale.

You are doing the right thing.

You Are Doing The Right Thing.

[yanara126-writing]

The Words We Speak

Corvo finds Jessamine's letter to Emily.

-

Read here or on Ao3 (1008 words)

Have fun! Comments always welcome! :)

-

You don't expect it, that is the worst part. Weeks later in retrospect, when things have calmed down and you down a drink too fast you know you really should have. You know this room. You have been in it many times before. Truly you don't know why you came in here. Strategically it was a mistake, the hidden door is the fireplace is clever, but extremely visible when open. Leaving again without being seen will be a challenge. Yet something has drawn you here, something that has nothing to do with the bone charm somehow hidden on the cupboard (and how did it get there? You know it wasn't there before). Was it fate? Was it the Outsider? Or was it just the desperation for something, anything familiar, comforting? You don't know and the drink in a few weeks time will give you no answers.

What you do know is that the unexpected sound of her voice breaks you, demolishes you so thoroughly you drop to your knees in front of the desk. The audiograph plays and her voice sounds through the room (and you are so very glad for the room's noise cancelling aspects. Not for the first time.) Not disembodied, confused, and detached like the wretched thing in your pocket speaks, haunting your every step. No, she sounds just as you remember her. Loving, hopeful, and so, so sad, drenched in a deep sadness you've never been able to bear seeing her with and have yet never been able to truly shake it for her. She speaks to Emily, of her hopes for- for your child. She speaks of you in the only way you've ever been able to speak of each other, indirectly, hiding their meaning behind plausible deniability- "Corvo, who was always dear to my heart."

Every word sends lightning to your heart and through your limbs. It hurts, it hurts so much, so unreasonably much to know that she is no longer here. That you will never hold her again, see her, even hear her speak of her hopes for Emily. You've seen her death again and again for the last months. In Coldridge there was nothing else, only her death over and over in front of your eyes, even as the torturer did his best to distract you. The dead man in the basement had no hope to ever eclipse the pain you feel now as it really, truly sinks in. That it's over. That Jessamine will never see Emily grow up. That she will never see the end of the plague.

No sound comes over your lips as you kneel on the cold ground in that hidden chamber you've spent so many hours in before. At first it's because you cannot bear to drown out even the quietest of her sounds as the audiograph runs. And then, when it pings back out, no more of her words to give, you find you still cannot sob. Your shoulders are shaking and your eyes are hot as tears are burning their way down your cheeks, as if trying to rip your face apart and melt the mask hiding your face. Your knees give out as well and you end up on the ground, fingers clawing and scratching at the stone, begging for some kind of support, something to hold onto, but the smooth stone knows no mercy for you. For once the silence is deafening in your ears, her words as gone as she is, and you cannot even fill the quiet with your tears for her. Perhaps this is your fate, silent for too long, never to be able to sound your grief again. First you were silent at her side, her guard, her protector, her love. You were happy with that silence and would have happily endured it until the end of your life for her. Then you were silent in Coldridge, six long months spent more in the torture chamber than in a cell. You did scream then, how could you not have, but never talked, never gave them anything. You had no dignity left to give, but at least you didn't give them the satisfaction of breaking you. Tragedy and helplessness had left only spite behind. And now, now you are silent for their sake. At the pub no one truly wants your words, and that is fine. You have never been one for many words anyway, and they give you something to do. They gave you Emily again. Outside you are silent to keep people alive. You cannot afford to fail, you will kill if you have to, but your silence may just buy their lives.

And so you lie here, prostrated before the ghost of her voice, sobbing silently as the spectre of past happiness tries to suffocate you.

You don't know how long you cry in that old, familiar little room and once you pull yourself up from the ground, feeling older and more ungainly than you ever have before, you don't find the energy to care. You probably should, after all you have a mission to complete, a regent to dethrone, a lie to correct. You should care about this chance to wash your reputation clean, even if only so you can stay with Emily, protect her from whatever threat will rise up next without the need to hide.

As you open the secret door, using those damn powers of the self-righteous prick using you for entertainment to get rid of the guard walking right at you, you do not care. As you drag his unconscious body behind a close by curtain you cannot care, because caring would only bring back the audiograph's voice ringing in his ears so loud and all-encompassing no alarm could ever hope to break through it. You have to succeed, so you don't care, you don't think, you don't feel, you simply stay silent and unseen, a shadow haunting the Tower, a ghost of past happiness who would suffocate the lies now living where your heart used to be.

[chronicangelca]

404

Link to this fic on AO3. Words: 1410 Date posted: November 19, 2020

Summary: “Sollux,” she murmurs, tone low and warning, when after a minute of not answering her you finally start to type your fourth message draft to your boss. That’s twice as many message drafts as you’re normally willing to type. She slides one hand down to gently rub your chest, and your fingers pause mid-word on the keyboard. “Come back to bed.”

You want to launch your laptop across a room. Whether that’s due to an error you’ve just made in your code (no, an error you’ve just corrected in someone else’s code, for the millionth god damn time, you really wish this guy would just give it a fucking break already) or the fruitless conversation you are having in another window is hard to say. Either way, there’s a migraine throbbing behind your temples and not for the first time you contemplate swallowing a whole bottle of Tylenol and just being done with this shit for good.

The same thing that pulls you out of that mindset every time pulls you out of that mindset this time: Aradia wraps her arms around you from behind, draping herself against your back and murmuring something in your ear that’s not quite audible. You guess your increasing volume and frequency of frustrated groans has woken her up. This is not the first time this has happened and you are sure it will not be the last.

“That same guy again?” She murmurs after a little while, when you guess she’s woken up more. You’re grateful that she’s not angry with you for sneaking out of bed to do more work. She never is, though it would certainly be justified. You grunt a confirmation and delete a third message draft because you think your tone is still much too aggressive. Best not to call the guy paying you to fix his work the sort of nincompoop who pulls the pin from a grenade and just holds it because he’s too stupid to observe what it does, loses his hands, and then has to write all of his code with his perpetually bleeding wrist stumps because there is clearly no other way he could have fucked up this badly-- no matter how much you may want to say that.

“You could always give up and come to bed for the night,” she murmurs, and this concept is laughable. You laugh at your girlfriend. Her mouth presses into a thin line but she is gracious enough otherwise not to comment on your poor manners. “I’m sure if you told your client what time it was here they would understand that you can’t work right now. The madder you get the harder it’s going to be to explain why the code is broken and the more times you’re going to have to fix it,” she says, which is mostly correct though not entirely so. She’s very logical. You hate how logical she is sometimes.

You glance at the clock for a moment rather than answering her immediately. It’s a little past two in the morning, your favorite time to work. Since moving in together, she has been a lot more on top of your awful schedule, which mostly means that she gets you to go to sleep with her for two or three hours before you wake up in an insomnia fit and sneak out of bed to get more work done as long as you’re going to be up anyway. In the morning she will always assure you that if you just stayed in bed, you would probably get back to sleep, and you will always argue back that you work best in the middle of the night, which is probably only true because you work most in the middle of the night, and that’s how samples work.

“Sollux,” she murmurs, tone low and warning, when after a minute of not answering her you finally start to type your fourth message draft to your boss. That’s twice as many message drafts as you’re normally willing to type. She slides one hand down to gently rub your chest, and your fingers pause mid-word on the keyboard. “Come back to bed.”

You swallow. Fuck her for being stupid and sexy and persuasive. She’s not even using her sexy voice though, just her regular exhausted scolding voice, but it stirs up images of Aradia laying in bed alone staring at the ceiling and waiting for you and you can never forgive yourself when you find her like that, just knowing that it is fully your fault that she’s awake at that point. Usually that’s when you go to code in the living room. You think your furious typing may actually help her stay asleep almost as much as cuddling her does.

“Fine,” you huff, snapping your laptop closed without another word to your employer. You will likely get reprimanded for this later, but you are not paid by the hour, so it doesn’t actually matter that much. Plus, you fixed his issue already. It’s not your fault if he breaks it again-- or rather, it won’t be your fault when he inevitably definitely does break it again.

Your desk is simply tucked into the opposite corner of your now-shared bedroom from your bed, so you only have to cross about six feet of wire-laden, empty-Mountain-Dew-bottle-filled, laundry-carpeted floor before you flop down ungraciously onto your bed. It’s a queen-sized bed that you’ve had for years now, long enough that the very middle of it where you used to sleep before you were sharing it with another person is a little bit sunk in, and Aradia keeps nagging you to get a new one, perhaps a king-sized one so you’ll stop complaining about all of the space she takes up when the two of you sleep, but you’ve told her very sternly about a million times now that if you got a new bed, it would still be a queen-sized bed, because queens are infinitely better than kings and that’s basically all there is to say on the matter. She always rolls her eyes and says you need to take this apiculture thing less seriously, or perhaps more seriously and make that your career if that would mean you started keeping half-decent hours. ( Keeping half-decent hours? Like beekeeping? Yeah, it was funnier in your head. Fortunately it never left your head!)

She pokes you in the ribs until you scoot over enough that she can also clamber into bed, and then you burrow yourself in her side. Your girlfriend is almost a foot shorter than you, but if you could bury your whole body in her you definitely would. As it stands, your face finds a spot in one of her shoulders and you cross one of your long legs over both of her short ones (well, really rather average ones, you know you’re the string bean here).

Her hand comes up to start gently brushing her fingers through your hair, pushing your bangs away from your face. Her skin feels flushed against yours, but it always does. You don’t know where this girl generates body heat from but you’re pretty sure she’s in the running for “hottest things Sollux Captor has ever interacted with”, in leagues with that shitty 2010 laptop you held onto for way longer than you should have and your father’s shitty smoke used for rounding up his bees. (You have fond memories of the bees. You have much less fond memories of your brother nearly lighting himself on fire every other week in the attempt to beekeep and impress your dad, who you suspect didn’t even actually like bees all that much but rather defaulted to a mild interest when none of his larger ones panned out. You admire that about him.) You push your hand up her shirt, just enough to rest against her stomach and sap the warmth from it to return some life to your fingers as long as they aren’t typing. She sucks in a sharp breath at how cold you are, but otherwise says nothing.

It doesn’t actually take you long to doze off when you’re all snuggled up like this. Aradia is a good pillow, and her fingers massaging against your scalp make the last traces of your migraine evaporate, and when you’re warming up on her like a lizard on a rock in the desert you don’t even need to get under the blankets. Her legs are tangled up in the comforter which means that it’s around your leg, but otherwise your body is basically blanket-free. As you’re in the final stages of passing out, you murmur against her skin, “Love you, AA.”

It’s a dumb nickname. She should laugh at you. She doesn’t, but you think you can feel her smile into your hair. “I love you too, dummy.”

[leighsartworks216]

For A Cuddle?

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Wrote this this morning bc the brainrot is real

Warnings: mentions of dried blood, referenced blood drinking and hunting

Word Count: 535

Masterlist

AO3

You're so tired. Your eyelids droop, almost fluttering shut, before you blink them open once more. It's late at night. You haven't slept at all. You certainly could, if you allowed yourself to give in to the warm embrace of dreams. But you didn't.

Astarion went out to hunt a while ago, and hasn't come back yet. This was completely normal. Sometimes he'd be out all night and only come back in the wee hours of the morning. Other times he was gone for just a few hours. You don't recall when exactly he left - so you can't really tell if it's been a couple hours or several. All you know is you feel wrong laying in your bedroll without him. There is an emptiness that could only be filled by him.

You were so tired - you didn't need him to be there to sleep. You could sleep now. And tomorrow you could ask him to lay with you until you fell asleep, before he goes hunting. But tomorrow was so far away. You wanted him beside you now.

"Still awake, darling?" Had you been more lucid, his voice would have startled you. He'd have laughed and remarked on your lackluster performance as a lookout. "I thought you'd be asleep by now."

You hummed noncommittally, rolling over toward the sound of his voice. He was kneeling by your bedroll. It was extremely reminiscent of the time he tried to sneak a bite. Now you freely allowed him a drink whenever he wanted it. "S'waiting for you," you murmur. He almost can't make out the words.

"Why is that?" he asks softly. His voice is so nice... His hand brushes through your hair. "Why did you stay up, my dear?"

"Lay with me?" It's almost a whimper. A plea.

He huffs a laugh. "You stayed up for a cuddle?"

You nod, leaning into his fingers as they gently detangle knots and massage your scalp. "Please?"

He doesn't say anything for a moment. He watches you force your eyes open repeatedly, trying to keep them trained on his face even as exhaustion blurred his features into a pale blob. Every time he runs his fingers from the crown of your head to the nape of your neck, they fall shut just a little longer. When he's quiet for too long, lost in studying your face, you make a sort of whining noise and reach clumsily for him. His cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

"Calm down, love, I'll stay."

You watch as best you can as he shuffles to lay down beside you. Before he can get fully comfortable, you're pressing your face into his neck and wrapping your arms around him. You don't complain when he continues to shift and get settled in. Once he does, however, he can feel your body fall slack in his arms. Your breath evens out against his neck; your heart slows to a steady thrum.

He presses a kiss to your head. Your hair is greasy, with flecks of dried blood scattered throughout, and you didn't smell too pleasant either. But you were soft and warm, and he couldn't find it in himself to care otherwise.

"Sweet dreams, my love."

[mamsieur]

Used to it | Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader

Summary : Being Pete Mitchell's daughter has never been easy. But maybe one mission could bring you back together ?

TW : angst and fluff, angst with a happy ending, mention of alcohol, panic attack, canonical character death, age gap (reader is 27 and Bradley is 35)

Length : 7156 words

AN : I'm sorry for making Pete seem like a bad father but that man is not stable enough to handle a child in my opinion.

posted on AO3 July 12, 2023

You were 7 when your mother left your father, Pete Mitchell. 

You didn't have many early memories of him. There were only the arguments with your mother, his departures on missions that left you in tears, the missed birthdays and Christmases. It’s all you’ve ever known so you were used to it and being a child, you found it normal.

You were 7 when your mother decided to move out, leaving your whole life behind. You remember crying your eyes out in protest. As your mom tried desperately to get you out of the house, you clung with all your might to Bradley. Bradley Bradshaw was 15 and your regular babysitter, though your mother thought of him as a son, Carole and her were really close. They liked to remind you that when you were 4, you proudly announced that you were going to marry him. Bradley was almost always around, and Pete was his godfather, and they had a bond you envied. Despite the eight-year age difference, you remember being very close to your "Bradbrad" . He never pushed you away, was always ready to play Lego or other board games with you. He even took you to the park or with him when he went to the theater with his friends - when the movies were kids friendly -.

You were 7 , and your whole world shattered. No more Bradley, no more hanging to the naval base to have a glimpse of your dad and his incredible plane, no more aunty Carole and her sweet singing. You had hated your mom for years before understanding you left for the best.  She was finally happy ; not completely, she missed her friends and sometimes your father, but you could feel that she was happier away from the hustle and bustle of the navy, of your dad. You were not used to the strange calmness of the city, but your grandparents made it easy to adapt. Soon enough, you got used to the loving cocoon your mother succeeded to create around you.

You were 16, at your mother's funeral, when you had to accept the fact that you had to go back to live with Pete. When the two of you finally found each other in the crowd, he didn't say much, just gave you a few brief updates. You asked him about Bradley, a bit sad to not have seen him here, and he didn't have much to say. Only that the two of them were no longer as close as they had been.

The silence between you was uncomfortable. 

Of course, Pete had kept in touch over the years, calling on your birthdays, sending a little something. You spent some Christmas with him when he wasn't working and a few days during the summer break ; but Pete Mitchell loved his work too much to focus on you. As long as you lived with your mother, Pete's absence from your life wasn't something you suffered from, at least not really. 

You were used to it. Used to the absence, used to the missed calls, used to the Christmases with the attention of other aviators and their families but the ignorance of your dad, used to the unanswered phone calls.  Used to his silence.

But now your mum was dead... and you were dreading having to join your father in California.

You were 16 and you didn't want to live with him, you already knew what would happen ; he'd go flying, on a mission or for his own pleasure, leaving you alone at home - if you could call it home. The hangar where he lived now was something you'd always hated . It had no place for anything or anyone other than his passion for the sky, for planes and speed. You didn't want to leave your new life, even though you loved California. Your school, your friends, your family, your routine. But you didn't really have much of a choice. You were 16. He was now your legal guardian and you didn't want to drag your grandparents into a custody battle.  Even though part of you told yourself that your dad would probably agree to let you stay with them, you didn't want to take that chance. And you hoped he'd be more present, that you'd finally have the father you'd dreamed of, that your other friends had. If other military parents could be there for their children, why couldn't Pete?

Perhaps because Pete loved flying more than anything else in the world.  The sky was his one true love.

Even though you knew it, you held out the faintest hope that he would finally take his responsibilities as a father. Unfortunately, Pete was still Pete. He wasn't cut out to be a father. A fun uncle, maybe. A parent, no. The fact that Bradley no longer spoke to him proved that.

You were 18 when you packed your bags and headed off to the naval school in Maryland. You wanted to be a pilot too. And you wanted to get away from that bloody hangar, so empty, so alone.

Pete wasn't there when you left.  Not even a message or a note. Nothing at all.

You weren't even surprised.

It was Tom Kazansky - Uncle Tom - who had taken you to the airport. He had been more present in your life than your own father, even though you rarely saw him. You knew your relationship with Pete was a sensitive subject, and you knew when Tom gave him a hard time. Pete was suddenly more present - too present . He'd pop into your life for a few days, trying to be the cool or bossy dad, but it always ended in a fight. 

You hated it when he did that. You hated the way he would act like your friend, or like a strict parent, talking about curfew and how no boys were allowed in his 'home'. You hated the way he would try to be the father that he had never been in your whole life. You hated the way he tried to convince you that he was trying to change, that he'd be there for you.

But you couldn't blame Uncle Tom for trying to shake your father. He had children too, but despite his love of the air, he had been a present parent to them.  

But some days were not as bad as others. Sometimes, when he was in a good mood, Pete would take you flying. And even though it was hard to admit, you were a bit of a flier yourself. The feeling of freedom, of being alone in a comforting way. It was mesmerizing.

So, without him knowing, you decided to join the navy after graduation. You took your mother's name, Evans , so that you would not attract attention. Only Tom knew, so your dad wouldn't and couldn't pull your papers like he did with Bradley. 

You found out that he had done this when you saw Bradley one day in the summer before you made your choice. At first you did not recognize him.  He was 26 now. He was taller, more muscular and had a 80s mustache that suited him well - puberty had treated him really good. He was the spitting image of his father, whom you'd only seen in photographs and heard about when Tom and Pete reminisced over drinks about the past.

But Bradley had the same look in his eyes as his mother, Carole. 

As a child, you adored Carole. She was always there to comfort you when your parents were at odds, picking you up from kindergarten when your father was on a mission and your mother was at work… She was kind of a second mom. You went to her funeral with your mother eight years ago, you never cried so much.

The summer of your reunion with Bradley had been the summer of his return from the Naval Academy, which he had graduated from with honors. He was a very good pilot and would soon be going on a mission. The day before he left, you snuck out of the hangar to meet him at a nearby bar. He had celebrated his departure with you and a handful of friends, promising to keep in touch as often as possible.  As he left, you realized how much you'd missed your Bradbrad.

You were 18, and you remembered how quiet the ride to the airport had been. Part of you wanted to stay.  You loved California. It was close to the ocean, the people were friendly, and at the Navy base everyone knew you.

You'd even earned a nickname, the call sign you hoped to use soon : Tempest .  It was a bittersweet memory of a stormy night when Pete "forgot" to pick you up from baseball practice. You had landed on the base, mad as hell, soaked to the bone. You'd yelled at your father as hard as the storm had raged. It had been a huge fight. And of course, everyone had heard. Surprisingly, many had defended you rather than your father. You were relieved then. And to cheer you up while your dad was embarrassed, Tom took you to your favorite fast food and laughed with you about the scene. "You walked in there like a damn storm, a tempest ! Heck, that should be your call sign when you join the ranks !" You smiled as you remembered his raspy laugh and all the stories he told you about his days at Topgun . 

It was through those stories that you learned a little bit more about your father, The Maverick . His accomplishments, his reckless attitude in the air, his urge to always define what’s possible and pushing the limits.  Your desire, your need , to join the Navy to become a pilot only grew, digging a hole of longing for the sky deep inside you.  You wanted your father to see you, to acknowledge you. You wanted to be more like him.

You were 27 years old when you were called to the NAS North Island for a "top secret" mission that required "the best of the best". To your surprise, you were one of the youngest and one of the only women. But you'd missed California too much to worry about such details.  Like many pilots, you had joined the Hard Deck for a drink the day before training began. You soon met Natasha "Phoenix" Trace and Jake "Hangman" Seresin. Two strong personalities. Then came Javy “Coyote” Machado and Robert "Bob" Floyd. He was discreet, a bit shy. And before you could introduce yourself to the others, someone entered the bar and caught Jake's eye.

"Bradshaw. As I live and breathe."

"Hangman. You look... good." His voice was behind you and you didn't dare turn around to see him. 

"Well, I am good. I'm very good Rooster ."

You let the two men talk, then Bradley greeted Natasha and the others. At last, his gaze landed on you. You couldn't help but smile stupidly. He looked so surprised and happy. "Y/N Tempest Evans?!"

"Hey Bradbrad ..." you smiled and happily accepted his embrace. He squeezed you against him and asked you all about your journey, which you happily did, while in the distance the bell rang, indicating that a customer couldn't pay his bill and had to be kicked out. Out of the corner of your eye, you thought you recognized your father, but Jake and Javy had already grabbed him by the arms and dragged him outside. You didn’t have the time to really think about it, Bradley taking you by the hand to sing with him at the piano. You laughed and followed him with the others in his Great balls of fire ’s reprise. It had been a great night.

The next day, at the first meeting, you thought your heart stopped when you saw that your instructor was actually Pete... and from the look on his face, he wasn't happy to see you there. Before the meeting was over, you heard his voice call your name ; it had a barely disguised note of anger. "Lieutenant Evans. You’ll stay after training, we'll have a word."

Bradley looked at you, concerned. He knew that you had never told Pete about the Navy, but he didn't know that even after nine years, your father was still unaware of your career. The others were confused and you could feel questioning gazes on you. Great way to begin this thing , you thought.

You were 27 and a very good pilot. An excellent one. One of the best. That's why you were here after all, wasn’t it ? You walked in your father’s footsteps, perhaps as talented as him at that age. But you were also as reckless as him, living up to your callsign. A tempest was never soft or delicate, neither were you. You had risked your life so many times in your five years of service. Tom often told you that you were just like your father and that it scared him. You didn’t think, you just did , you wanted to go faster, higher and further. Acting like the storm that you were, leaving your enemies confused by what had just happened. The adrenaline, the speed, the immensity of the sky, the feeling of freedom... you finally understood why Pete loved being in his plane so much.  You felt a little closer to him in those moments.

And yet, in nine years of absence, he had never once contacted you. You had disappeared one day and he hadn't even looked for you.  Your uncle had promised not to say anything about your career, but Pete hadn't even been interested in why or where you were going.

Seeing him angry made you furious . How could he have the nerve to be mad at you? 

After the training and the 200 pushups you had to do because - of course - you didn't beat your old man, you stayed on deck and waited for the others to leave. Bradley gave you a little squeeze on the shoulder, as if to give you strength, and reluctantly left. You heard Hondo telling Pete to calm himself before saying things he might regret out of anger.

Once again, the silence between you and your father was heavy. 

You couldn't take your eyes off him, waiting for him to finally speak. You could see that he was trying to stay calm. But you already felt like exploding . You could feel the reproaches, the so-called concern. You could feel that he wanted to push you away . 

"Y/N... how did you... you went to the Academy behind my back?!"

"Iceman," you replied simply, your eyes and voice cold. "And you never asked where I was either."

"You-?! I should have known, you lied to me." 

“It’s not lying if you’re not asked.” you mutter, “You taught me that.”

“Now’s not the time to play that game Y/N,” he snapped, "you can't be here."

"With all due respect, Captain, that's not your call."

You really tried to remain calm, knowing that the others must have been listening nearby - especially Jake. You didn't want to draw any more attention, but you felt your blood boiling under your skin.

"I will talk to Vice Admiral Simpson about this. I don't suppose anyone's made the connection between us. But now there's clearly a conflict of interest-"

"You have no right to take this mission away from me. It's not fair," you gasped, eyes wide.

"I am your father ! I can and will do it."

"What ?! No ! No, you can't ! 9 years of nothing but silence and now you're acting like a worried father ?!" you snapped, moving towards him and pointing an accusing finger. A nervous laugh escaped you and you sighed, pursing your lips. "Why do you always have to act like this ? You've never acted like a father to me, except to get in my way !"

"Get in your way ? No ! I care about you-"

"Really ?!" you cut him off, raising your voice, "Then where have you been for 9 years ?! What did Tom have to say to you that you weren't even lookin' for me ? Where was all this care when I left and you were not here ? Where were you huh ?! Where was all that concern ?!"

Pete's eyes widened and he searched for words. He should have known that he could not argue with your point so he just huffed then scolded. "I'm your captain, Lieutenant Evans ! Keep your voice down !"

"Oh, now it's not my father talking ?!" you couldn't hold back a nervous, fake laugh. "You see how you are ?! Always twisting things your way ?! Why are you avoiding that conversation ? Why are you running away again ?!" you’re almost screaming, inches close to him, eyes locked in his.

"Lieutenant Evans !" he growled. You grumbled and let out a heavy sight, calming yourself. You stepped back and clenched your fists along your body.

"Will that be all, Captain Mitchell ?"

You clenched your fists even harder, your knuckles turning white. You wanted to physically shake him to finally have answers. But you couldn’t, at least not here, not now.

"Y/N..." he huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Will that be all, Captain ?" you repeated, your voice slightly trembling. Tears of rage threatened to fall. You held them back, too proud to cry in front of him. Pete looked at you and sighed quietly. 

"You're dismissed Lieutenant Evans..."

You left the deck with a quick stride. Your heart was pounding in your chest, a mixture of anger, frustration and sadness. Of course, the rest of the squadron was there, already clean and changed. Seeing the anger in your eyes, no one said a word, not even Hangman. He just stared at you, confused, as you slammed the door of the changing room. 

Later that evening, as the squadron relaxed at the bar, Jake couldn't help but bring up the earlier scene. 

"So our dear Tempest's dad is the famous Maverick?"

" He's not my father ," you muttered, finishing another beer. "My genitor maybe. But he's not my father."

"Why Evans if Mitchell's your old man?" Jake insisted. 

You could hear Bradley and Natasha telling him to drop it, but he kept coming back. You could feel your anger rising again.  You downed another beer and slammed the empty bottle down on the table. 

"Tell me, Bagman , weren’t you taught to keep your mouth shut about things that don't concern you? I'm sure your mama taught you some manners, didn't she? Now shut up before I put my fist through your face," you growled, half drunk, half angry. Jake scoffed and held his hands up in defense while Bob stopped you from approaching him. Seeing your father enter the bar only made you feel worse. And it took all your patience not to slit Jake's throat on the spot as he continued his overly curious and unpleasant comments with his snide attitude.

Bradley went with you to get some fresh air as he wasn't too keen on seeing Pete either. When you arrived at the beach, a wave of sadness washed over you. You knew that your father would do everything in his power to get you out of this mission, but what was worse was that he didn't even try to talk to you, to reconnect. Your shoulders shook and you couldn't hold back the tears any longer. Only a sobbing hiccup betrayed you and Bradley rushed to take you in his arms. You felt the strength leave your legs and the two of you ended up sitting in the sand, crying your eyes out and clinging to Bradley. "I've got you... Let it all out..." he murmured between two kisses on the top of your head. His big hands gently stroked your back, letting go of all your pain. "It's okay, baby girl... it's okay..." 

Bradley and you practically lived together now. You’ve inherited your mom’s old house by the ocean and it’s confier than being on base. So those kinds of pet names were almost common now. But this time you didn’t blush at it, your emotions a mess.

You cried against him for a long time, as you hadn't done for many years. Rooster held you until you calmed down.  "It's not fair..." you whispered, sniffling. "He's going to take me off the mission..." 

"He won't be able to... Ice recommended you... there's nothing he can do about it..."

You shrugged, not really sure if Tom could help you. He was very ill and you didn't want to tire him out with your disagreements with your father.

“He’s just an old dickhead, don’t worry…” Bradley tried to cheer you up but you’re too distraught to play along. After a little less than an hour later, you find the force to get up and you head home with him. You fall asleep in the car and wake up the next morning in your bed.

There wasn't much time left before the mission. Training sessions were coming up and so were your fights with Pete. Cyclone hadn't pulled you out of the mission, but you weren't sure if it was to spite your father or because he felt you were capable of succeeding, just like your comrades.

Days passed at an alarming pace. The team slowly bonded through group exercises and moments of relaxation, especially with the game your father had invented: dogfight football.

You couldn't lie, it felt good to have such moments. But your father still didn't talk to you and you were still angry. You remained professional, but you couldn't stand his fatherly attitude towards you.

All your hopes of renewing real ties disappeared when you learned of Tom's death. You had seen him the day before and he had made you promise to try to take care of Pete. His funeral was one of the hardest moments of your life.

And because bad news never comes alone, the mission was moved up by a week. Pete was temporarily relieved of his duties, as Admiral Simpson still believed his plan of attack was doomed to failure. Of course, your father, in his legendary arrogance and cockiness, proved him wrong with an unauthorized flight. Hope rose in the team but it was still a very risky plan. 

Cyclone decided to make Pete team leader, and not surprisingly, he didn't choose you as his wingman. Part of you was angry because you felt you could do it, and another part of you was mortified when he announced that his choice would be Bradley. This mission was suicide, and you couldn't afford to lose them both. You couldn't afford to lose anyone in the squadron, but these two, it was just too much.

You didn't catch up with Pete as much as you wanted to, there were still so many questions left unanswered, so much time to make up for… You hadn't been able to make things right with your dad, you hadn't been able to tell him that you had this passion for aviation because of him. You hadn't been able to tell him that you regretted not telling him about the academy, that you regretted the 9 years of distance between you...

And you didn't spend enough time with Bradley.

Sure, you were always glued to each other in your free time, taking walks on the beach, talking and singing together at the Hard Deck piano, having movie nights... but you didn't want it to stop. Not after you'd half confessed how you felt about him after a few too many drinks, telling him that your 4-year-old declaration still stood. He laughed and told you that he hadn't forgotten either.

On the day of the mission, you barely managed to find your way to your father. "Captain?" your voice was louder than you had expected.

"Lieutenant Evans?"

"I... Before you go, I'd like to talk-"

"We'll talk when I get back."

"... Promise me you'll come back." 

For a moment, you were that five-year-old girl again, watching her father leave. Pete must have seen it in your eyes and climbed down from the cockpit to take you in his arms. "I promise I'll come back in one piece, kiddo..." You hugged him tightly and nodded in agreement. After a few seconds, you let go and let him settle down.  You ran to Bradley and made him promise you the same. He smiled confidently, even though you knew he was stressed. "Don't worry, we've got a Star Wars marathon to watch," he smiled before gently and discreetly kissing your forehead. You blushed and nodded, a worried little smile on your face. 

Reluctantly, you left the track and joined Jake. You were glued to your radios, following the progress of the mission.  Everything was going well until two enemy fighters spotted them. 

You stopped breathing. 

First they had Bradley in sight and locked on. 

The enemy fired. 

But your father took the brunt of the missiles and saved Rooster.

Your brain didn't know how to process all this information and shut down when you heard Bradley's decision to go after Pete before getting shot down too.

You don't remember much else. All you knew is that Jake had to leave in a hurry to find and rescue them. When they landed with that really out beat up F-14, you rushed out on deck to greet them, swallowing all your worry and anger at their unconscious behavior for the moment.

Once ashore, the entire crew decided to celebrate their success at Penny's Bar, dragging Pete with them. You stayed close to Bradley, as if afraid that it was all a dream and that he wasn't really there. He wouldn't let go of you either, his arm tight around you. You felt like a schoolgirl, it was stupidly comfortable. You looked at Pete, who was happily chatting with Penny and other members of the team. You didn't want to spoil the evening with a discussion that was out of your control…

Around one o'clock you went out for some fresh air, leaving Bradley to play with those who hadn't returned home yet ; Reuben, Natasha, Mickey and Javy.

As a cold shiver ran through you, you felt a heavy jacket on your shoulders. You immediately recognized the peculiar smell ; old whiskey mixed with motor oil and a hint of cologne.

" Dad ? "

"I thought you wanted to talk ?" he asked quietly, moving toward the beach. You nodded and took his pinky with yours like a child, searching for your words.

"I'm sorry..." you breathed, holding back your tears. "For going to the Academy behind your back and not telling you… not talking to you for almost ten years... I know that giving news is supposed to go both ways and all, but... but you weren't even there when I left... and I guess... I guess I resented you as much as I wanted you to be there, you know ?" you sniffed before continuing your monologue. "I just wanted you to see me��. ‘Cause… it’s because of you I wanted to go down this road, you gave me this love for flight, for speed, for the sky. I... I just wanted you to be happy that we finally had something in common, but... but you had already pulled Bradley's papers, so I didn't think and I just did what seemed most logical and easiest. Take Mom's name, ask Ice not to tell you. I know it was stupid… but I also know it would have hurt too much if you had stopped me. And... And then no news for nine years... It hurt even more. The Academy and my first years of service weren't what I thought they would be... it was rough and sometimes I just… I just wanted to call you to come and pick me from there… but… but I wouldn't change that for the world. Because I’m still a Mitchell and Mitchells never quit right ?” You took a few seconds, your gaze meeting his, to see if he wanted to intervene but he didn’t. He just looked at you, taking all the information you gave him. You let out a shaky breath, playing with the sleeves of his jacket nervously. “And I know you must and may resent me for the rest of my life, but… but I just wanted you to be proud of me and... and for us to finally be a family." You bit your lip, trying to calm the flow of emotions that came through.

The sky began to rumble and your father remained silent after your speech. A few tears rolled down your cheeks as he couldn't find the words.

"Please, Dad, say something..." you sighed, your voice breaking.

The rain began to fall slowly and Pete's silence was too much for your heart to take. He couldn't even look at you anymore. You thought you could take it ; you were used to his silenced treatment, used to the fact that he couldn’t express his feelings. But right now, you needed him to speak, to ease your worries, to confront you.

"Dad... please... I'm begging you... talk to me…" you repeated desperately.

You broke down again and cried like a little girl in front of your mute father. You hated that he couldn't open up to you and you hated that he saw you so frail, so fragile.  Your sobs mingled with the rain, which grew heavier, the wind and waves making the silence deafening. You bit your lip and wiped your eyes with the back of your hand, in vain.

"I know I'm not... I know you didn't plan… you didn’t want to have me with mom-"

"No, it's true... I never planned to be a father... The very idea of having children terrified me and still does," Pete interrupted you, "but... you're one of the most beautiful things, if not the most, that has ever happened to me. And I'm petrified of anything happening to you, I'm helpless on so many levels... and I... I didn't know how to be there when you needed me... I know I must have let you down a lot..." He sighed, catching his breath and holding back his own tears. "I thought... it would be best for both of us to let you have your freedom... but the weeks, months and years went by and I didn't have the guts to try to contact you. I was too ashamed... but Y/N, I never stopped loving you... you're my daughter... and even if you have my damn temper and your mom’s stubbornness," you couldn't hold back a little laugh and a slight smile despite your tears, which your father tenderly chased away with his thumb, "you'll always be my little girl, too eager to get on our little plane for a ride, passionate and fierce… I don’t resent you… I think I would have done it your way if my old man put me in this situation…" He allowed himself to cry as well as the two of you finally hugged each other, relieved of an enormous weight.

"I love you too, Dad... sorry for everything..." you mumbled against his shoulder.

"No, no… I’m sorry… It's my turn to apologize, sweetheart..."

The two of you lay embracing in the rain for a while, making up for years of distance in a few minutes. You were the first to let go. You once again took his hand like a child.

"We better get back before Hangman starts gossiping..."

"Or before Bradley starts worrying," Pete teased. You blushed and looked at him with wide eyes. "What? Like I haven't noticed the way you two look at each other. I'm not that blind kid!" He laughed “Ah… your mom and Carole would have been thrilled !”

You returned to the bar, soaking wet, chatting about anything and everything. Seeing you, Bradley's expression changed from worried to relieved, then back to worried as he noticed you were shivering a little from the cold. He politely left his conversation with Mickey to join you.

"Are you okay? Do you want to go home and change?"

"That would be a good idea..." you smiled at him. You had to admit you were exhausted from this rollercoaster of emotions. You said goodbye to the others from a distance, then to your father in a final hug, and followed Bradley back to his old blue Bronco. The two of you made your way to your small house. 

Bradley was a good roommate. You each had your own room, but you often fell asleep together in front of the TV or on one of your beds after long late-night discussions. You liked the routine you created. And you hoped with all your might that nothing would change. But your feelings for him were becoming more and more obvious in your mind and heart. You wondered how much longer you could hide it.

Seeing you so silent, Bradley placed his hand on your thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Are you all right, lil’ Tempest?" 

His eyes never left the road as his thumb traced small circles on your jeans. A shiver ran through your entire body and you wished this contact would never end.

"Everything's fine Roo... don't worry..."

"Okay..."

He squeezed your knee again and left his hand on your thigh. The warmth of his palm made you shiver and you placed your hand on top of his shyly. Once again, you felt like a teenager. It was stupid.

The ride home was rather quiet, in a comforting way, Bradley driving carefully in the pouring rain and humming the song that passed on the radio. When he parked, you stayed in the car for a moment. You sensed that he had something he wanted to say to you, and he sensed the same thing on your side. After a few minutes of silence and shy glances, he smiled at you, got out of the car, and you followed. He ran to unlock the door and waited for you under the porch.

You wanted to run as well, but your legs felt heavy. That's when your anxiety decided to take over. The stress and worry of the past few days were finally catching up to you. As you saw Bradley step out into the rain with a worried expression, the conversation on the radio played in your head. Your father's F-18 had exploded, and Bradley was on his way to pick him up. And now it was his turn to go down. A huge pressure on your chest stopped you from breathing and new tears rolled down your cheeks. You couldn't move, pinned to the pavement. Silent sobs shook you as your vision blurred. You couldn't see or hear Bradley any more. You felt so alone, so cold. Your panic attack froze you under the heavy rain and you couldn't get out of it. You couldn't hear anything except the intense ringing in your ear. You wanted to throw up. The world spun around you as your mind screamed what the communications officer had said earlier, "Maverick's down ! Rooster's down !" 

They were dead. 

For the long forty minutes or so that followed, they were dead .  And you were stuck in that loop. One minute everything was fine, the mission was a complete success. The next, the last two most important people in your life were dead. The ground began to feel strangely unstable as you fought harder to breathe. Eventually your legs gave out and you felt yourself fall, but you didn't hit the ground. You felt two arms around you, holding you securely but not too tightly, then lifting you up as if you weighed nothing. The buzzing in your ears slowly faded away and you didn't feel the rain on your skin anymore. You gasped for air when you finally heard Breadley call your name, concern in his voice. As you raised your eyes to look at him, a sudden relief washed over you and you couldn't help but sob again.

He was home. You were home. With him.

"What's going on, Y/N? Hey... Breathe... breathe and talk to me..." he said quietly.

"I thought... I thought you and Dad... you... you were dead..." you managed to say between sobbing hiccups. You clung to his shirt, afraid he would fade away. He smiled a little and kissed the top of your head as he cupped your cheeks with his calloused hands. Then he took your hands and laid them flat on his heart. You could feel it beating at a regular pace.

"I'm here. I’m okay. You're okay. I'm very much alive, Mav is too, and you're stuck with me, with us, little Tempest..."

"Yeah ? Promise ?" you sniffed, your lower lip still trembling.

"Yeah... Promise." he smiled at you again then hugged you tightly. 

He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, the bristles of his mustache tickling you a little. One of your hands reached up to his neck, your fingers brushing his little hair. The two of you stayed like that for a moment, absorbing each other's presence. You felt so relaxed in his arms, as if you belonged there. Your heart fluttered as you heard him hum one of your favorite songs and then felt him beginning to slow dance with you, taking you peacefully to the bathroom.  You were too exhausted and shaken from your panic attack to even ask him what he was doing. You just obliged and listened to him, hypnotized. He declared that you needed a long relaxing bath and in the meantime he would order pizza. He helped you take off your shoes and socks, then your hoodie. He kissed your forehead and let you finish undressing, leaving the bathroom to give you some privacy. 

You couldn’t stay too long in the bath, your mind being too loud. You knew you would break down again if you weren’t close to him .  Bradley made you feel safe, secure, grounded. That was what you needed to relax. You were so used to being alone before, used to the silence, the empty rooms. But since he decided to kind of move in with you, you couldn’t bear the loneliness. The house was so warm now, so welcoming and comfy.

As you crossed his room after you’ve washed, you noticed that old hoodie you bought him one Christmas when you were in naval school. It’s a silly one, the hood designed to look like a rooster. An amused sigh escaped you and you took it to wear. It was still as soft and comfy as the day you bought it. 

“Stealing my clothes I see ?” he chuckled when you joined him in the kitchen.

“Stealing my beers I see ?” you teased him back, pointing at the bottle in his hand, “I thought cranberry beers were for chicks ?” 

“Mama Carole didn’t raise me to be picky” He scoffed in défense, with a smirk.

“Oh I know she didn’t. And my mama didn’t raise me to steal, I’m just borrowing that hoodie.” you smiled, putting the hood on. “Look, we’re twins now, Rooster !”

The both of you laughed at that stupid joke. He then smiled at you and put a strand of your hair behind your ear. 

“Feeling better sweets ?”

“Yeah… sorry about that I… I think these past days were a bit too much for my brain…”

“Don’t be sorry… it’s normal to break sometimes… everyone does.” 

You hummed and nodded, but before you could talk, the doorbell rang. “Must be the pizzas ! Get yourself comfortable on the couch and choose a movie Y/N, I’ll be right back !” He kissed your cheek, close to your lips - too close - and ran to the door. You stood there for a moment, cheeks and heart warming up, before doing what he asked you.  Once again, you felt like a schoolgirl at her first sleepover with her crush. You couldn’t help but feel butterflies fluttering in your stomach and your face turning a bit red. 

You should tell him.  But you risked losing that friendship you had. And at the same time, you wanted more than that. You wanted to feel his arms around you, his lips - oh those lips - on you, to wake up next to him each and every morning in your bed… You fantasized about a life with him for a minute, not noticing him getting back with the food. You jumped slightly when he waved his hand in front of your eyes to snap you out of your reverie. Your gaze locked with his as he asked if everything was all right.

"Yes, yes... I was just lost in thought..." you smiled shyly, your cheeks flushed, letting him settle in beside you. He took the plaid to cover both of you, then put his arm around your shoulders.

"And what were you thinking about? Or who?" He teased.

"About us, actually..."

"Us?" He said, a little surprised.

Your cheeks were crimson. You'd said too much already. You couldn't run anymore. You just nodded, not daring to meet his gaze.  You felt him come closer and turn a little towards you after a few seconds of silence.

"Me too, I have to admit..." 

"Really?" you almost whispered, looking up at him. He smiled and nodded.

"Yeah... to tell you the truth, I like it here, but... I don't want to be just another roommate anymore. We're pretty similar in a lot of things, Phoenix even says we look like an old married couple that's always jammed together." You chuckled a little but couldn't help but agree. Bradley smiled a little before continuing, a little nervously. "And... the crash, almost getting killed... It made me realize a lot of things... like the fact that I didn't want to lose you. And that... maybe... the fact that I felt so comfortable with you meant... meant more than friendship..."

Your heart raced in your chest. Was he going to confess what you were thinking? You bit the inside of your cheek to prove to yourself that you weren't dreaming, and before he could continue, you pulled him by his collar and crushed your lips against his. The kiss was desperate, as if you needed it to keep on living. Bradley didn't waste a second in responding, one of his hands sliding up your cheek and the other down your back to press you against him. You would have liked that moment to last forever, but the lack of air forced you to pull away a little. He pressed his forehead against yours and let out a small laugh. "I guess it's mutual, then?"

"You're a little genius aren’t you ?" You couldn't help but tease him before kissing him again.

You felt so good against him, kiss after kiss. You felt complete, soothed. 

And you could easily get used to it .

[umbrify]

It can’t be your fault.

They tell you it was. They’re wrong. You tell them it was Etho’s own fault, that he was foolish.

“I just wanna know who put the egg down,” Scar asks. It feels like an accusation.

“I did,” you reply, lacing false confidence into your voice.

“Oh, Grian,” Scar says, and it feels like resignation. Like an understanding that’s all too intimate.

“And there’s— there’s more, where that came from,” you insist, pretending not to hear him. Pretending that Etho did that to himself, pretending you don’t feel like you’ve done something horrible.

You regroup. Your numbers are dwindling, lingering here like sitting ducks, waiting to be picked off one by one. You plan to get closer to the horde, try to gain any information you can. A very risky mission, surely.

Going alone might be a death wish. You ask someone to come with you. Skizz volunteers.

You sneak up close, just in time to see the horde chasing Joel. He’s one of your own. He’s alive. The horde didn’t see you. You could help Joel.

Skizz looks at you.

You run.

Skizz chases after you. “We gotta help our buddy, dude!”

“No,” you say, frantic, “we can’t help him!”

You keep running. Skizz follows. “We just left Joel, man!”

You know. Gods, you know.

“Should we help him?” You ask. It feels like a stupid question. “I did— I took the cowardly route, I let them run right past—“

Skizz takes your shoulders. “Come on— hey, come on, let’s go, let’s go help him!”

It’s too late. You don’t even see Joel die.

Skizz leads the two of you through the woods, back towards home. “We could’ve saved him, maybe,” you say. It feels like betrayal.

“Or we could’ve all died,” you offer instead.

“Yeah yeah, probably that,” Skizz says.

You almost hope that would’ve been the case.

It can’t be your fault.

[lilacxquartz]

Blood Thicker Than Honey | One Shot

Suguru Geto x Fem!Reader

ao3 link | masterlist

Summary: Suguru was drawn to you from the start, however your lineage shared a similar flaw to his own and in his perfect world, there were no exceptions.

W.C: 4.3k

Themes: (warnings in red) one shot, dark, dead dove lite, some smut, references to murder/death, reader insert, second person pov

A/N: After the break of the first half, it’s a slight time skip, just a year. This nightmare of a fic is short and sweet, but a lot happens.

~~~

It had been just a couple of years since the day that Suguru last said goodbye to his old life and chose to walk down his own path. No regrets, he thought. His life should have been his own from the very start and it was a cruel joke with what jujutsu society had initially planned to do; to script a predetermined fate for him instead, to force the shovel into his hand and to dig the same early, shallow grave as his friends would have done.

It was sickening, in its own right. To take a canvas so perfectly untouched and mar it with ink from a well that wasn’t his own and he couldn’t help but want to spill the pot. If it were up to him, regardless of the mistakes he’d make, then it would still be his own story to tell at least. What felt more cruel was to be left behind as just another tool to use, another weapon in a limited arsenal yet discarded as soon as the value was lost.

(Except for the blue-eyed ghost from his past, they’d use him until there would be nothing left.)

He simply couldn’t set an example with that, at least not for the two girls he had adopted. After all, what good could possibly come from anything at all when the only lesson that such a society taught was that sorcerers were born to be led to slaughter? No, Suguru wanted something different for them, something that should have been given to his old friend in fact; the freedom of an actual childhood.

Despite this, he was still sure to remind them that they were simply better unlike the filth that had otherwise locked them away before. The non-sorcerers, who hurt what they couldn’t understand, that abused them and refused to see beyond their own ignorance. He would remind them whenever they showed even a flicker of empathy for the ordinary people of the world, quick to extinguish such a silly thought away from their still uncorrupted minds.

Perhaps it was cruel to do so, but they didn’t know any better.

Reminding them as many times as he had to do so, again and again, that if the regular people of the world knew about sorcerers and what they were capable of, then their own history risked repeating once more.

After all, humans loved to destroy what they couldn’t understand, blaming themselves later on in history books when the apologies didn’t have any weight to them any longer; when the lives that they destroyed were buried long ago, forgotten and already lost to time.

He would remind them of how he slaughtered—massacred—those who dared invite such cruelty in the village they were kept in and how he struck down every last one of them. How he dipped his hands into their blood and wore the stained aftermath like a badge of honour.

Maybe the world didn’t deserve to understand, he thought. It was true that the ordinary people could earn their place and even worship the strong as their gods if they were given a chance to do so, but they’d always remain beneath them all the same. If he was willing to sever his own parents from the world for their own flawed existence, then there was nothing left in the world that could stop him alone.

And while taking a trip to the city, all these thoughts festering in his mind, trying to push them away for just a moment. Trying to give the girls a childhood worth remembering and looking back on, that’s when he spotted someone unfamiliar but captivating all the same—you.

Sporting an all too familiar work uniform, it seemed that you were in the midst of having just completed a mission of some sort, evident from how worn out you looked. He watched as you slipped into a nearby cafe, clad in layers of dust that hung onto your frame.

What a sight for sore eyes, he thought.

“Maybe we’ll stop somewhere and get something sweet?” he announced to both Mimiko and Nanako, both of his hands occupying their own. He didn’t personally care about interacting with the common people, but he bit his tongue for certain moments.

He wasn’t going to make them miss out on life just because of the prejudices he had.

And as he followed you in, his eyes focusing on you and how you acted, he found a certain charm behind your actions. Maybe it was the way your eyes seemed to convey exactly what you were thinking—fumbling your order with wide eyes and reluctantly accepting the fate of your new name, when called out to be known as “Kaka” in the busy joint. Standing just a few people behind you, he very clearly heard you say “Keiko”, though.

Maybe it was also the way that you didn’t seem to push his girls away when he instructed them to infiltrate your table and to steal your attention for a little bit while he ordered. Watching as you instead accepted your fate to entertain the two young siblings that took over the seats opposite with what he concluded to be genuine kindness. He glanced on and off as you smiled and you wowed at whatever it was the girls talked about you with.

Suguru of course, shamelessly played his way over to the table, feinging both ignorance and concern over his “lost” girls, handing them both a pastry each accompanied with hot chocolate. There was something endearing with how you interacted with them that he couldn’t just shake away; the first impression already made and set in stone.

“Ah, there you both are,” he said, ruffling their as they smiled at one another—so young and yet already understanding of his intentions, keeping their mouths perfectly zipped shut as they stifled giggles at the idea of him having a crush (and one so obvious, too.)

You blinked at the guy before you, flashing a glance at his features. He seemed significantly older than the two but not enough to be their father.

“Oh, are you their brother?” you asked.

“Not exactly, I see them more as daughters,” Suguru replied, his lips easing into a friendly smile, “you could say that I saved them from a bad situation so it’s been just us three for a while.”

You smiled in understanding while maintaining a polite tone, “How kind of you.”

Extending a hand that you were still cautious enough to not reciprocate to, he clicked his tongue in resignation and introduced himself anyway, “I’m Suguru by the way and these two are Mimiko and Nanako,” he paused, studying your reaction, “and you are…?”

You were about to introduce yourself but then your eyes narrowed as he spotted your name scribbled incorrectly on the paper cup, reaching out to turn it towards him. With embarrassed haste, you attempted to blurt it out in an effort to correct him, “Kei-“

“—Kaka?” he couldn’t help but snort, the two girls giggling beside him. He didn’t mean to bully you, but he did want to have a silly story to introduce you with in the future.

“It’s Keiko,” you muttered in a resigned tone, taking the cup back and gulping down a sip.

Suguru leaned back as you did so, studying the way your lips pressed against the slotted lid. You seemed tired from the way you glanced at him, but not bothered enough to push away his company completely. Maybe you wanted to be alone after what was likely a busy day but didn’t have the heart to say something rude in front of children. He knew just how intensive those missions could be and considered leaving you alone, but he didn’t want for you to just slip away either.

To lose you to the city, to allow you to fade away as just another fleeting face in the crowd, never to be seen again.

Tokyo was like that, after all. Maybe to an extent, all major cities were. You’d see someone and you’d bond with them in your mind, maybe spin a whole fabricated story riddled with what-ifs and maybes, only to never see them again. He didn’t want to reduce you to just another ghost that haunted his memory though (he had enough of those already) and besides, he could tell that there was more to you than just being a pretty face.

“So, you’re a sorcerer, aren’t you?” Suguru was quick to ask, his eyes locking in on the uniform you wore. He needed to keep your attention for just a minute longer, if he could help it. He knew how this looked too and didn’t want to come across as an out-of-touch person trying to hit on you without knowing anything about you (even if he did have the girls help him out in that regard).

You nodded as you took yet another sip, recognising right away that this was no ordinary encounter, “Oh, yeah. Just moved a here couple of weeks ago from Osaka, actually.”

Suddenly, your interest was piqued and you couldn’t help but wonder what exactly he wanted from you. The very act of jujutsu was rightfully concealed from the prying eyes of the public and for obvious reasons, so he had to either be involved or was a sorcerer himself to have made such a conclusion. Lowering your cup and studying him, he seemed to be laughing at something in particular. Your eyes settled on the darker-haired girl, (Mimiko, was it?) sitting opposite you, her fingers dabbing at her lips while she stared at yours. Quickly, you wiped off the foamy residue left from your latte, thankful that at least someone let you know.

Suguru leaned in closer as the girls tucked into their pastries, his elbows resting on the table, “So, what brings you here?”

You considered how to respond to his question as your fingertips drummed around the paper cup. There was nothing rude about the way he asked it, but you were still wary about being too honest. You didn’t mind the company that the three offered you, but your reasoning for coming to work in Tokyo was shallow at best.

“The pay is better here,” you admitted, reading his reaction carefully. You had a mixed bag with admitting such a thing; some people cared a great deal, immediately making assumptions about your character while others didn’t care at all.

“Hm, but the spirits are a lot worse around here, no?” Suguru asked, his tone sounding curious but laced in bitterness. “The pay is great, but it comes at a cost.”

He didn’t want to admit it too soon, especially since he didn’t even know you existed until just ten minutes ago, but he didn’t like hearing that someone that he harboured a potential interest in was doomed to be just another cog in the machine; another part to be replaced rather than repaired.

It wasn’t your fault, many were just simply too blind to see just how disposable they really were in the shackles of jujutsu society. Not to worry though, he thought, he would help bring you to the light.

You tilted your head to the side as you hummed, finding his reaction interesting but fair, “I mean, yeah? I suppose they are, but not everyone has a choice in how they earn their living, you know? I’d rather have a fighting chance to live a better life if I can help it.”

Suguru nodded, continuing to chat with you while both you and the girls ate and sipped on whatever you had left. Again, you didn’t mind, finding the company interesting and almost pleasant in a way. Maybe his words might have seemed blunt and maybe even rude to others, but you appreciated that he didn’t mince his words.

You did find it curious, though, that he remained somewhat cryptic about what he truly did. You didn’t know all too much about him just yet, but his name did ring some sort of bell, seeming familiar in your mind—maybe you heard it in passing? The big shots of Tokyo were rampant here and in your short time spent in the city, you had already shaken hands with your fair share.

And maybe, just maybe, it was poor judgement on your end to have followed him back so soon, but the shyer sibling of the pair insisted that you did so and being a once quiet kid yourself, you weren’t one to dampen someone’s spark, no matter how faint. Mimiko seemed to have taken a liking to you and wanted to show you just about everything that she thought you’d like—mostly drawings but also a plush doll similar to the features you had. You did find it amusing though, that Nanako’s side of the room in contrast, was more orderly and even composed, more like an actual preteen’s room seeking independence more than Mimiko’s side.

Suguru in the meantime watched on from the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the frame. He brought you here partially to entertain Mimiko’s request but also to prove a point to you, that he wasn’t after you as a caretaker. Admittedly, this was an insecurity he had, needing to prove to you for some reason that he wasn’t just some lost kid barely breaking into his twenties with two extra mouths to feed, but someone reliable.

He walked you back after meeting with you either way, already convinced that you might be the perfect one for him which was admittedly, a rare moment of clarity for someone like him. Suguru was very selective with the company he chose to keep and even while his found-family was growing in steady numbers and there were already suitable candidates to consider, this also meant nothing if the girls he sought to protect didn’t think the same.

No, it had to be someone that they all liked. Strangely though, he didn’t resent this sort of system. Perhaps the sisters were a blessing of some sort, acting as some sort of filter to determine who was worthy and who wasn’t. Mimiko, so kind-hearted, would settle on someone gentle. Nanako, more guarded and even selective, would only allow those who didn’t pose a threat to get close.

And as he walked you back in the slowly darkening skies, the golden hour hues soon to be replaced with blanketing darkness that threatened to sweep over, he couldn’t help but already fall for you. He admitted more than he should have, telling you about the girls and allowed you a glimpse into his idolised perfect future, but he didn’t reveal too much too soon.

Not yet.

You parted from him with more questions than answers, just as he had so intended, wanting nothing more than to write you into his own story. Leaving you behind with just a name and a phone number, daring you to contact him again if you too, had felt something in between the lines.

Indeed, it wasn’t the last you saw of him as you met with him a second time after that, and then a third time and soon a fourth. Slowly, but surely, he entangled you into a mess that he spung with his own matter yarn, expecting you to navigate through the knots with no needle in place. It was by sixth meet or perhaps the seventh, that you learned just how cruel he could be but also just how kind—especially so as the city continued to break you down just as it did with everyone else, just as he predicted it would with you too.

(And at your most desperate, he offered you salvation. Happy to break you away from the predetermined mundane, eager to welcome you into a life where love didn’t have to be hidden—a place where you didn’t have to pretend.)

It was though his words slowly poisoned you into a sweet surrender, spreading venom through your once hopeful mind, keen to rid the idea that the world deserved to be helped at all. He reminded you that cursed spirits were a result of human negativity, so therefore the problem lied within people, not you, not him and certainly not the girls. He convinced you with carefully curated words that you could be so much more, planting the seeds of his own personal hatred into the core of your mind—sprouting what he thought to be a justified blame.

People weren’t worth fighting for, he would tell you, repeating it as many times as he had to do so before it would echo as an innate truth in your thoughts.

Lingering, festering. Settling into a known truth.

Yet, at the same time, it didn’t feel like a forced decision on your end to surrender to his will when you packed up your old life behind to see a promising future with him and the girls. If was with your own pledge that you vowed to not become another body in a casket, be it figurative or literal.

No, this was something you grew to want as well.

(A sweeter existence without the bitter aftertaste that followed.)

~~~

“We both share the same flaw, you know,” Suguru gently murmured, half asleep on the bed that you both now shared. His black hair loose, cascading against his sharpened features.

“We do…?” you asked, meeting his longing gaze. The skies outside were dark by now and the girls were sound asleep in their room down the hall. A bedside lamp offered a dim light, offering just enough of a glow to illuminate the troubling thoughts brewing on his face.

Suguru gently cupped your cheeks before answering you, fully understanding that you simply just didn’t get it yet. Not fully, at least. His touch brushed against your flesh like cushioned silk against his own skin, his barren eyes desperate to find life within yours.

It was ever since you told him that your parents weren’t sorcerers either, that he felt an even stronger connection to you. Something that flipped a switch in his mind as he became fully convinced that this was his true fate—one where he had to liberate you, to erase the imperfections that held you back.

In his vision for a perfect world, there was simply no room for mistakes and that included ordinary people. Including your parents. Even if your family did manage to somehow create art from unskilled hands (just as his own had done so too), then that still didn’t make them artists. The world was corrupted with negativity and they deserved to meet their end the very same way.

“Maybe it was meant to be this way,” Suguru mumbled again, sounding even more cryptic than before, “both sorcerers born from nothing.”

“…Suguru?” you asked, your voice laced with a hint of caution, unsure whether or not you should have been trying harder to break him away from his nonsensical thoughts. His expression was so serious, so angry and yet, he looked at you with such love, almost unconditional.

(You were his future.)

“I want to protect you,” he concluded, taking both of your hands and pressing them to his lips. His eyes were dead set on you as you watched him move back, ready to take a break from whatever darkness festered in the back of his mind.

He kissed at your shoulders, silently announcing to you that he was back to normal again. He peppered love bites along your neck and down to your collarbones, a little ritual that he spent the last year or so carefully defining. Suguru was territorial and his lips bruised you in places that were visible, where the ending cuts of clothes didn’t fully cover or reach, as if to show you off in a way that others couldn’t even dream of having.

He wasn’t shy about how much he loved your body either, with how his hands constantly roamed around your flesh, mapping out every single inch of your skin with such tender love and care.

It didn’t take too long for you to learn that his sexual appetite was insatiable either with most nights ending with him spearing his cock in-between your legs, pounding you into a flustered state as if his life depended on it.

Each night would start similar; so deceptively gentle. Soft kisses and careful worship, but if your body was his temple then he only saw it as right to be the one who got to ruin you as he pleased.

You’d surrender to him nightly, with your hands wrapping around his back and pulling him down by the shoulders. You’d hug his taut body flat against yours, rubbing flesh and skin alike into sweating passion.

And this night should have been no different, yet something about it felt off. As if he made a decision just now with you, perhaps for you… without you?

But you didn’t think too much of it for now, your mind melting at his touch as his tip teased at your entrance. Suguru loved to take his sweet time with you before he claimed you every night. He loved nothing more than to rub the head over your clit, testing the waters with your slick heat tempting him inside just below.

“So fucking perfect,” he would say, an unending cycle of varying praise remixing at his lips. Sometimes he would simply whine, so intoxicated before entry and desperate to stake his claim.

He pushed himself in when he couldn’t take it anymore, swiftly easing himself into your glossed sex, so ready to take him in. Every time he plunged into your core and every time he felt your walls tighten and your thighs clench around him, he could feel himself being driven to madness from just lust alone.

You cried his name as he impaled you and as his hips bucked against yours—your fingers desperately grasping at his back to gift you comfort. His relentless rutting driving you almost manic, but unchanged from his usual pace. Sometimes, he worried about being too vanilla for you as his desires were admittedly simple, but just from hearing your aching screams and needy moans and the way your breathing seemed to shudder from when he slammed into you from impact alone, he knew that he permanently had you; you were his and he was yours.

And as he emptied himself into you yet again, he pushed himself into you until the wave rode itself out completely. It was almost mesmerising of a sight, to see you so flustered and slightly tinged red, salted beads of sweat prickling down your body; your pretty pussy so full of him and perfectly spent.

Pulling away from you, he concluded something darker, promising you something you didn’t yet understand, “I’ll do it for you. Just for you.”

~~~

Perhaps you should have seen the warning signs with just how erratic he was acting just a couple of nights ago. Since then, the sex had died down in intensity and the words he drove himself insane with were no longer uttered, but his passive claim on you felt almost personal. It no longer felt as though you were simply his lover nor just a girlfriend, but someone who had intertwined with his very own soul.

So, at the mention of him cheerfully suggesting to meet with the people responsible for bringing you into the world, perhaps you should have read more in between the lines. Maybe you should have deflected his direction or even lie about their whereabouts, but you didn’t.

Deep down, you knew what he was up to. The the man you fell for—the very same who confessed to razing villages and killing their residents, the one who killed his very own kin for the sake of a better world, free from humanity’s own doomed confinement, was now driven to dip his hands in even more blood.

(And for your sake that time.)

It was almost sickening to hear; with his smooth words falling onto your corrupted ears, with how he truly did believe that it was all for a greater cause.

“You’d still choose me in the end, right?” he asked you, holding your hand as you faced your family home. He was about to go in, to do something unspeakable but all for you.

You nodded, albeit cautiously. Accepting that the world was simply just too cruel. You felt as your own tears spilled from your eyes, salting your cheeks while your heart fluttered in your chest; fully understanding what it was that he was about to do.

You knew better than to stop him.

You’d be a hypocrite if you called for exceptions.

It was a maddening sight, all things considered as you watched the loveless walls of your childhood interior, devoid of happy memories that could have been photographed and adorned around the various rooms, decorated by Suguru in the heat of something terrible. Ivory white concrete, splattered from the aftermath of crimson slashes, like sprayed ink from the finest well—blood that was spilled again and for your cause.

Suguru only ever wanted to liberate you.

To free you.

So maybe that’s how it all had to be.

You watched as the life disappeared from the faces of those who raised you a final time, like a light giving out. Deep, dark blood pooled at their heads, almost void like, the reflected lights overhead seeming almost like stars.

Blood that was thicker than honey and yet it didn’t feel so sweet.

A part of you however felt troubled as the death finally settled, something that you couldn’t quite shake off. You started to feel it at first in the mornings, just maybe a week ago. A sweeping nausea that would overcome you; a sickness that was perhaps too telling, too frequent by now to be written off as a coincidence.

You couldn’t help but wonder…

If you were both born from such equally flawed lineages, then what if the unborn child you carried was woven from the same sort of cloth?

What if they were born simply… ordinary?

Would he accept it… spare it? Or would he…?

You clutched at your stomach, almost sickened by the thought.

You already knew the answer.

(No exceptions.)

[blackholelynn]

Summer Chases Away the Cold

Summary: The sunny summer weather makes it hard to see your boyfriend when he's a vampire that sparkles in the sunlight.

Pairing: Edward Cullen x Reader

Warnings: None. Kissing but nothing too heavy I don't think

Word Count: Just over 3k

A/N: My first Twilight fic!! I have been an avid consumer of the Twilight Renaissance for I think a year or two now? And don't even get me started about how obsessed I was when I experienced Twilight for the first time!! So I'm very happy to contribute something, and I'm especially happy that it's a contribution to the Twilight Appreciation Week being done by @twilightsaganetwork! Day 1 is "favorite character" which was a really hard ask, but after some deep digging, I settled on good ol' Eddie boy. So please enjoy!

~~~

School is an ever-present aspect of your life, no matter how much you wanted to escape it. The impending end of the summer and the summer weather brought with it only seemed to complicate matters. All of your friends were already planning vacations and activities for the three-month break. Jessica was especially trying to coax you out of Forks for a vacation to a warmer climate, like California.

You had made excuses after excuses, but you couldn’t manage to tell her the real reason behind your refusal. The only one that knew was Bella, who could see your melancholic demeanor from a mile away. It wasn’t until one fateful Wednesday that she cornered you in your shared study hall to get to the bottom of your sadness.

“Are you okay?” she blurted. It would have been silly to expect any kind of soft approach from her.

You plastered on a fake smile and attempted to hide your expression by turning back to your open notebook. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be? School’s that much closer to being over.”

“And the sun has the Cullens hiding away.”

The Cullens.

Or, more specifically, Bella was pointing out the absence of your Cullen: Edward. You had never thought that a partnered project about The Odyssey would lead you to form such a deep connection with someone, but in each other, you both found a place of solace.

Edward had been a hard person to read with how high his walls were. He was like an impenetrable fortress, and you couldn’t even tell if it was to keep people out or to keep him in. He had even offered to do the project himself to avoid having to listen to your inquisitive thoughts, but you stubbornly refused. From there your forced proximity wore down Edward’s walls bit by bit, and the rest happened the way any relationship would – with the added element of vampirism.

“You and I both know that they have to,” you sighed, relieved to be able to at least talk to someone about your issues. Her friendship with Jacob also made her privy to the existence of vampires, considering the complications between them and the pack. She was really the only friend you could confide in regarding anything supernatural.

“I know…and I know that you’re mopey when he’s not around.” Bella bumped your shoulder with her own, trying to get you to actually look at her.

You bumped her back and chuckled, “Am not!”

“You are too, and I think you should do something about it. It’s not like you haven’t been to their house before.”

“I have, but never without being invited.”

“So?” The bell rang and Bella began packing up her supplies. She slung her bag over her shoulder and got ready to leave, only saying one last thing before she left. “I have to get to my next period, but I say just go over. He can’t be mad about you wanting to see him. He’s your boyfriend.”

Bella’s words lit a fire of indignation inside you. Why had you gone over a week without seeing Edward simply because of a little sun? You were going to march right over there as soon as school let out and demand to know why you hadn’t seen each other.

That is, you were going to do that until you found a piece of paper folded and stuck under your windshield wiper. You surveyed the parking lot carefully but only saw the typical students rushing to their cars at the end of the day. Gingerly opening it, you read the tell-tale writing of Edward.

Meet me at my house. I have something to show you.

Just his writing was making your heart thump, and it made you feel utterly stupid in the best way possible. You threw your bag in your backseat without regard and raced out of the parking lot towards the Cullens’ house. Luckily, none of the police force were out or you would’ve had to explain why you were going twenty above the speed limit in a school zone. Even being friends with the chief’s daughter wouldn’t have gotten you out of that.

As you flew down the road in your car, the trees sped past, and your tires squealed when you peeled into the Cullens’ driveway. You nearly forgot to shut off the car’s engine as you sprinted towards the door.

Alice was already there and opened it for you, a small frown on her face. “You were driving awfully fast.”

“Where’s Edward?” you blurted. When Alice’s frown grew deeper, you nervously began to play with your fingernails. “Sorry, I just…I really need to see him, Alice.”

“He’s up in his room.” She stopped you when you turned to leave with a cold hand around your forearm. It was a gentle grip in contrast to the strength you knew she possessed. “I know it’s hard to remember when you’re surrounded by vampires, but you’re still mortal. Don’t be wreckless.”

Your expression softened at her concerned words and you nodded. “Sorry if I worried you.”

“Well, you’re in one piece, so just make sure you stay that way.” The smile had now returned to her face, and she wordlessly gave her blessing by letting go of you. Alice’s footsteps were light as she skipped further into the house.

As you hurried to his room, your mind was consumed by Edward. He would inevitably comment on your infatuation, as he loved to do so. The one bad thing about him being able to read your mind was that he could always pry into your thoughts when he wanted an ego boost, as then he wouldn’t have to rely on your words alone to convey your feelings for him.

When you arrived upstairs to his room, his door was already ajar, as was his window. He was standing by it and staring out towards the forest surrounding the house. The summer sun streaming through the trees created dapples of sparkles across his skin. Your breath caught in your throat when you saw the sight.

“Do I get to see you or are you just going to oggle me from outside the room?” he teased, not turning around to look at you.

Your face heated up in embarrassment, and you took a few hesitant steps into his room. “What was with the cloak and dagger note? You couldn’t have called?”

“I thought the note would be more…interesting. Considering how fast you got here, I would say you thought so.”

“You’re teasing me an awful lot when I’ve barely seen you,” you pouted. You now stood beside him at the window, searching for whatever he was looking at. There was nothing out of the ordinary, nothing other than trees and the occasional bird. Your eyes moved back to him to get a better sense of where he was looking, but his focus was now solely on you. In an instant, your head snapped back to stare out the window. “See? I’ve got to get used to this again.”

Edward chuckled and held your chin between his thumb and forefinger, guiding you to face him again. “Well, it’s nice to know that I still have an effect. A pretty strong one at that.”

His eyes flitted around your face, searching for something. You knew that look. He was making himself at home in your brain and taking it upon himself to indulge in your thoughts. By the grin that plastered itself on his face, he liked what he had found.

You puffed out your cheeks and swatted at his chest. “No fair! No poking around in my mind like that!”

“Is it because it’s unfair? Would you like me to tell you what I’m thinking to make it up to you?” He leaned in so he was only a few inches away from your face. “Even the playing field a little?”

“Um…” His words and his close proximity made you go dumb, and your entire mouth went dry. You licked your lips to try and introduce some moisture back into them, but your saliva only made it worse.

He ghosted his lips over yours which sent shivers up your spine, and he whispered, “I’ve been thinking about this the whole time we’ve been apart.”

You weren’t sure who made the first move to close the distance, but in a surge, your lips met. The iciness of his skin felt like it was consuming you. You forgot how much you missed the feeling of being close to him until you had been deprived of it for so long. It was so overwhelming that you completely forgot yourself, hungrily trying to get even more of him.

You should have known better because with a sharp inhale, he took a step back with a sharp inhale. “The time we’ve spent apart has made me forget how hard it is to control myself around you.”

“Ditto,” you replied out of breath, although you knew he was talking about a different kind of control. With the space between the two of you now a chasm, it felt a little easier to breathe. You suddenly remembered why he had asked you to come in the first place. “I hope the thing you wanted to show me wasn’t your kissing skills because while I am absolutely not complaining, you didn’t have to create a pretense for that. If you had written a note that you wanted to kiss me, I would’ve raced over here just as fast.”

“I know,” Edward said cheekily.

You shrugged and leaned against the window sill. “Alright, then spill.”

In the blink of an eye, Edward had positioned you on his back, hanging out of the open window. “It would be better if I showed you.”

You couldn’t help but look down below, and your stomach dropped at the height. Your arms wound tightly around Edward’s shoulders as you held on for dear life, trying desperately to keep your grip as he jumped from tree to tree. He moved so fast that the leaves and branches of the forest became blurs of green and brown. You couldn’t say how many times he’d shown how fast he was or how strong he was, but every time felt like the first. It was always so thrilling.

Finally, his journey through the brush came to a slow halt once he had broken free from the tree line. There was a clearing that had a small hill in the middle of it. The trees encircled it like it was a forbidden place for them to grow. Even the noises of the wildlife seemed far away, which made it feel like a pocket of the world where it was just you and Edward.

He gently set you on the ground, and you took a few wobbly steps into the clearing. “Wow. It’s beautiful. Did you find it while you were hunting?”

“I wanted to bring you here as soon as I found it,” he replied, following closely behind you. His hand intertwined with one of your own. “We’ve only been able to see each other at school, but on days like today…”

“We could come here,” you finished with a grin. You felt like you were floating on air as you looked around the clearing. Your very own little paradise to share with Edward. A place that was yours. You spun around and put your arms around his shoulders, playing with his hair. “It’s perfect.”

He placed a small kiss on your lips, much more chaste than the last, and led you to the middle of the clearing. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Once you got to the middle, just at the top of the slight hill, he gently guided you to lie beside him in the grass. The chill of his body was a welcome contrast to the humidity of the summer weather. You rested your head on his chest to avoid the feeling of the grass against your skin. Despite how much you two had to catch up on, an easy silence stretched between both of you, and you basked in his presence, thankful to finally be near him. The sun set low in the sky and cast a golden border of light around the dark clouds that started to roll in the sky.

“It looks like it might rain,” Edward pointed out, sitting up.

However, you refused to move. “Mhm…let’s just stay until it starts. I don’t want to leave yet.”

Normally, he wouldn’t indulge you. He would insist on leaving so that you didn’t catch a cold or slip and fall. He always was hyper-aware of your humanity and how “fragile” that made you compared to him. However, this time he settled back and brought his arm closer around you.

The clouds rolled above you creating a canopy that the sun cast beautiful colors on, creating a natural light show for the two of you to watch. It slowly grew darker and darker until there was barely a shadow of the clouds against the inky night sky. The nightfall caused you to sit up and dust off, fully ready to make the trek back to Edward’s house and your car, when he tugged on the hem of your shirt to get your attention. He pointed towards the sky again without a word when you looked over.

You looked up and were in awe, and this time you were the one to settle back into your previous position. Although there was no rain, a distant thunderstorm was lighting up the sky in flashes every time lightning striked. The thunder was a gentle and quiet roar when it reached you and Edward. You had seen heat lightning before but seeing it with Edward’s arms around you seemed to make everything look better.

“Wow,” you breathed out in awe.

“Wow is right.”

When you turned your head to look up at him, you found that his eyes weren’t on the sky but on you. They were filled with adoration, a small smirk resting on his lips. A giggle bubbled from you as you hid your face in his shoulder.

“It looks like that storm is moving towards us, so as much as I want to stay here…” Edward picked you up as he stood, holding you close to his chest. “We should get back to the house.”

“I know. I should be getting home too since it’s getting late.”

Like a gentleman, he whisked you back to your car and kept you safe from the rain, and he opened your car door for you. The warmth of your car beckoned you against the chill settling in the evening air due to the impending rain, but you couldn’t manage to bring yourself to separate from who was in front of you. Despite his chilling touch, despite his self-loathing tendencies, despite the contrast between your mortality and his immortality – he was who you wanted to be with until the end. You always had an inkling, but the soft, easy moments like this only made it that much clearer.

“I don’t want to go,” you blurted out.

Edward’s mouth turned up in a rueful smile, amused at your sudden and unimportant confession. “And I don’t want you to, but you have to get some rest for tomorrow.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Seeing Edward’s confused and worried expression, you rested your arms around his shoulders to assuage his anxieties. “I meant it in more of a long-term way. I don’t want the time we spend together to be so deliberately orchestrated to avoid it being by happenstance. I don’t mind waking up next to you every morning.”

“Are you…proposing?” And with the way the tone of his voice seemed to waiver, you knew that if he still breathed, the breath would’ve caught in his throat. The vampiric perfection that was always surrounding him crashed down to reveal him in his most vulnerable state. He waited in apprehension for your response.

“Yup. You’re stuck with me, lover boy. Forever.”

His amber-colored eyes lit up with glee, and the dark sky behind him flashed a bright white from the ever-approaching lightning simultaneously. You squealed when his strong arms wrapped around your middle so he could spin you around. As soon as your feet touched the ground again, his lips were attached to yours. Droplets of cold rain fell around you, but neither of you cared about the rain anymore.

However, the moment was abruptly halted when the scenery changed around you in a flash, and you were suddenly sitting on the couch in the Cullens’ living room as Edward draped a blanket over you. “I nearly forgot that you’d catch a cold in that weather.”

You puffed out your cheeks in a pout despite snuggling deeper into the blanket's warmth. “You know, we’ll have to fix this whole ‘sickness’ thing. It’s inconvenient.”

“Believe it or not, Carlisle does that for a living.”

“Haha,” you responded sarcastically to his cheeky comment. “I said forever, and I meant it.”

Edward’s jovial exterior was disrupting for only a moment before he tried to plaster it back on. “Maybe we should just celebrate an engagement right now and worry about everything else another time.”

You were about to argue when a loud clamor from deeper in the house made you startle. Esme and Rosalie were now in the middle of the room grilling you about the engagement they had known nothing about, and Alice stood behind you talking over them about wedding ideas she’d been bursting at the seams to share.

Edward smiled happily to see how well you meshed with his family. It wasn’t perfect (nothing really was), but it was more than he felt he ever deserved. You were more than he deserved. Yet, you wanted to throw away your humanity and devote yourself to him for the rest of eternity. The thought terrified him and instilled a deep sense of guilt, but for now, he would focus on the elation of the love you two shared.

Your laughter carried across the room, and he didn’t know if you were redeeming him to heaven or damning him further to hell.