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tteokdoroki · 3 years

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assistance please! | e.kirishima.

♡ pairing: eijirou kirishima x fem!reader.

♡ word count: 6.6K

♡ rating: mature, 18+, mdni.

♡ genre: workplace!au, internship!au, fluff + smut.

♡ summary: eijirou kirishima loved being an intern, he had great co-workers, had a shot at his dream job, his boss had taken quite liking to him and of course, being the favourite intern had many, many perks.

♡ warning(s): please read ! heavy smut, ( kirishima is in his twenties ), power dynamics, sub top!kirishima + power bottom!reader, heavy!praise kink, heavy!miss + mommy kink, unprotected sex ( wrap it before you tap it, kids ), oral ( female receiving ), squirting, tummy bulges, cumplay, creampie.

♡ author’s note(s): hihi everyone!! today i present to you my contribution to the bnharem on the job collab! i had a lot of fun playing with different dyanimics in this fic, i hope you enjoy it nonetheless!! make sure you chek out the other works from the other amazing creators!! <3

♡ masterlist | requests | kofi

“oi! ‘shima! you’re needed in the boss’ office right away, she’s got important business for ya!, wants t’have a word. now.”

eijirou ducks his head politely in a sign of gratitude, thanking his co-worker and superior, keigo— for the heads up. keigo, or better known as hawks around the office ( for his fast speeds in completing work and luring lonely interns into his bed ), was a nice guy— second to the lady in charge and way too chatty. he was a bit of an air head, got the job done when it needed to be but that’s what kirishima was for, the replacement while keigo took his vacation time in the middle of the year like an idiot.

he wasn’t too sure why you kept the blonde around, he supposed it was because he was pretty but eijirou wouldn’t dare question you— he needed this internship if he was going to make it big in the sports news reporting scene. he’d been majoring in sports and healthcare at college, two years away from graduating when the opportunity to work for yn ln, one of the biggest sports journalists in japan had landed right in his lap. of course he was going to take it, of course he was going to do everything he could not to fuck it up.

in the cubicles beside him, the other interns try to muffle their giggles and titters of curious laughter as the red head gathers himself for the meeting.

“oooo, i wonder what you did this time,” kaminari teases from the right, leaning over his side of the cubicle to fiddle with the odd bits on kirishima’s desk. denki kaminari was another person kirishima wondered how the hell he got into the programme, but then again he was pretty to look at and brought a lighter air to boring office days.

“nothing! i’m innocent!” eijirou defends, hands releasing his files to fly up in defence.

the other interns, going by the names of mina ashido, kyouka jirou and hanta sero snicker amongst themselves at the interaction.

“don’t believe it, s’obviously more than nothin’ if you’re always getting called down’ta the boss lady’s office.” bakugou, another intern, grunts out with his nose deep buried in files for upcoming reports. he was a little too rough for the journalism lifestyle but got the job done. his attitude wasn’t for everyone. “they’re probably fuckin’.”

mina giggles and kirishima steps out into the paths between desks. “don’t be such a sourpuss ‘suki, just ‘cause you’re not her favourite.”

a lose ‘shut up’ is huffed, before katsuki turns to face his taller, buffer companion. “just don’t be late, bunch of us are goin’ for lunch later.” he adds and turns back to his paperwork.

“affirmative, catch ya later!”

the group waves the red head off as he heads to the elevator directing him to the main floor— this is where all the higher ups worked. the journey wasn’t unfamiliar to the intern, he wasn’t like the others and had the steps to your office memorised by heart. sometimes it was like walking home, to his comfort and sanctuary away from the stressors of work and the outside world— he knew that was bad, but you were so kind, such a sweet and understanding boss he couldn’t help but develop some level of comfort towards you.

to most, it seemed like eijirou kirishima was just unbelievably close to his boss, that you’d taken him under your wing.

he however, knew what you had, meant more.

a fluttering warmth spreads across the intern’s chest as he approaches the door to your main office and he knocks. behind it lay mountains of secrets upon secrets, things that kirishima knows about you that no one else does. the walls have hidden words, written across them in fonts of passion and admiration and it’s all that he can think about. you’re all that he can think about, and it’s still wrong. there’s a shuffling deep in the room and some flitters of paper here and there before your soft, velveteen voice breaks through the barrier between you. the one thing keeping you apart.

“come in,” you call smoothly and kirishima follows your orders swiftly, if not eagerly, entering the four walls of your office. ruby eyes dart across the room to locate your position and his heart skips a beat when he finds you, body leaning over your dark oak desk, papers scattered across it while you frantically sift through numbers and stocks and nonsense way above the level of a journalism intern. but even amongst the chaos, you’re beautiful— eyes sparkling with productivity, lined in little flecks across the colour of your orbs. the way you dress never fails to steal away eijirou’s breath— a tight fitting leather skirt that hugs your mature curves and a white blouse with the bottoms popped open— just enough for him to get a peek at your cleavage.

the poor intern has to hold himself back from blurring the lines of work and pleasure to shove himself deep into your chest, suck and lick at your plush breasts until he was high off the taste of your skin. but he wouldn’t do that, yet. not without your permission. “oh eiji baby, there you are!” you coo to the red head, bright smile stretching across blood diamond painted lips. you cross the room in three short strides, tall black heels clacking against the smooth white marble until you’re standing in front of and looking up at kirishima. “was starting to think keigo had ditzed like a pretty boy and had forgotten to send you my way, darling.”

eijirou’s cheeks flame at the smoothness in your syrupy voice, like sweet honey to his hears, the pet name striking a familiar heat deep within him. you always had a way with your words— enticing, almost like a siren calling out to him despite the taboo aura that surrounded what you had. whatever it was— he just knew it was more than your typical boss-intern relationship.

“even if he had, ‘m more than happy to be of service to you ma’am,” he responds almost a little too quickly, large hand rubbing the back of his neck and tugging at his baby hairs to ground himself.

you cock your head, eyes sparkling with mischief. “always such a helpful, good boy eijirou,” you hum, lips pulling into a devilish red smile and the praise causing a new spark of lustful electricity to crackle through the air. “i could use a little assistance, please, i have this awful meeting with the board today, spent all night preparing and couldn’t go home, i could use some stress relief,”

kirishima’s gaze becomes hooded as he looks down at you, a familiar and bright desire burning in the pits of his stomach. “oh yeah? sucks that the paperwork kept you up all night ma’am…” he trails off, choosing to let his fingers dance up and down your sides— snaking an arm around your waist to pull you into him. you couldn’t or you wouldn’t go home. he’s not sure if he cares about the answer right now— not when you tremble in his grip, itching for something, anything from him. “how long do you reckon we have ms. ln?”

“ten to fifteen minutes sweetheart, give or take,”

you grin widens, taking an impossibly closer step to your intern— pressing the swell of your breasts against his hard chest. he can feel your nipples pebbling through your blouse, almost visible behind the white fabric and god the way you look up at him— he can no longer wait, he needs you. right here and right now.

“will you be needing my assistance throughout, ma’am?” kirishima asks, voice dropping a few octaves until it falls into a low growl.

“i expect it. you are my intern after all.”

the words laced with deep huskiness, the proximity of your bodies and the rising heat in the room is what leads you both to tumble into the next series of events. before he can’t register it, your mouths are slotted together in a fast paced and sloppy kiss, kirishima’s body manoeuvres you around the office, marking out a familiar pathway to your desk—his tongue remains sliding over yours in rapid movements as he commits your taste to memory, refreshing those from the last time he had you like this. yet every time you kiss and his tongue glides over yours, you taste sweeter than before; like peaches and morning coffee— you feel softer in his grip, every dip and curve to your body like it was built for him.

eijirou can't stop thinking of that last time, tucked away in your office after dark when your dainty hands pawed desperately at his hips to bring him closer or scratched at his back from sheer pleasure— kirishima wants to see you like that against, using his own hands to tear through your shirt and send buttons flying across the room. something in him just wants to do good for you, have you ache for him and earn himself some of your sweet praise. even as you step and stumble towards your work desk, the red-head lets his lips break away from yours, connected by a string of your own saliva before he drops to your neck, lapping tracks over your skin with the temptation to bite down and paint it shades of deep purple and blue.

but there are rules that you both have in place; ways to keep what you have a secret and hidden away from the public eye so that you don’t lose all that you’ve worked for and so kirishima can keep being your precious little intern.

“jump for me, please ma’am,” he whispers heavily into the junction between your neck and your shoulders, breath laboured and warm against your skin that begins to shine with light perspiration. mindlessly, you follow his orders, jumping up while your fingers curl into the mass of red on kirishima’s head and ankles lock around his waist—his hands meet the backs of your doughy thighs, squeezing the flesh between calloused digits while you toe off your heels.

“eiji, you’re so good,” you manage between feather light breaths as they clatter to the floor as the pair of you somehow make your way to the desk chair, pushing and tearing the clothes from one another’s bodies— including your crisp shirt. now seated and left in nothing but your bra, you tug harshly at your intern’s locks and bring his mouth down to yours, allowing them to move together in a dirty, messy kiss. there’s barely any time for you both to mess around, for him to tease you until your limit and you’re crying out for any type of touch from him, so eijirou quickly

flips down your bra, exposing your chest to cool, air conditioned air—not even bothering to unclip the material as his fingers descend on your nipple, pulling and twisting them until your back arches from the stimulation. “hurry, please eijirou,”

obedient as ever, your favourite boy drops to his knees in front of the chair you stay slumped in and with his height, he still manages to tower over you, practically at eye level with hunger framing the ruby of his own. large hands knead at your plush thighs, hiking your skirt up and up to give you room to spread your thighs, cunt growing sticky from anticipation— all from a few measly touches in familiar places. but this is kirishima, and he knows how your body works from countless hours spent after the office closes up— using one another to blow off extra steam. he knows just what makes you tick and moan his name.

logically, eijirou knows that your meeting could start at any minute and even though you’re both in a stickler for time, he still wants to get a taste at your skin before devouring your most intimate parts. he’ll make time to explore every part of you, to assist you in your stress relief. “‘m sorry miss, yn,” he whines needily, watching your chest rise and fall with want, feeling your body heat up and twitch from the ghost of his fingertips across your blemished skin. “gotta have a taste of you before the real deal, hope’ya don’t mind…”

latching onto the left mound of flesh at your exposed chest, kirishima sinks the point of his teeth into the area around your nipple— just enough to graze your skin and pull a sweet mewl from your mouth. you’re both lucky for the soundproof walls, your head thrown back in a lewd moan he lets his pink tongue roll over your bud in vicious circles. heavy, fat globs of saliva pool over the pink muscle, pouring down kirishima’s chin and painting your skin with a slick shine. “h-how...how could i mind angel, not when you treat me s’good,” you heave, vision fading in and out due to the overwhelming amount of pleasure flashing through your body in waves of hotness. “always doin’ so well for me eiji, aren’t you such a good boy?”

“yes ma’am,” the intern confirms with a erogenous slur, pacified and content on his knees for you— sucking, licking and biting at your chest to his heart’s content. “‘m your good boy,” he corrects you, however. eijirou feels most happy when grazing his tongue over the swell of your breasts, watching your face carefully for any twitches of delirium, it lets him know how hot aroused he makes you feel— that knowledge shoots straight to his cock, rock hard in his slacks while the redhead watches his boss writhe in her seat all for his eyes only.

such a dazzling view, and it’s all for fucking him.

your perfectly manicured nails run through red hair, scratching deliciously at his scalp until you’re forcing his head back and pulling kirishima off of your breast with a pop. “as much as i love seeing a pretty boy suck on my tits like a baby, we’re pressed for time angel, gonna need you to speed it up a little,” despite the softness to your face and the sudden evenness to the tone of your voice, the words that you speak to eijirou are vulgar, nasty, and turn him on to his wits end. “want you to eat me out eiji, can you do that for me?”

shaking his head, yes, beautiful claret eyes shining with acquiescence, kirishima wipes the spit from his chin with the back of his hand— like the tainted, dirty intern he is. you sigh down at him salaciously, ready to tear his innocence apart all over again. eijirou was always so willing to please, both in his work and behind closed doors— you would be a fool to not take advantage of that. with brute force, your intern forces your legs apart, eyes rolling back in his skull from the scent of your sex, dripping with your juices right through your underwear and stockings. overexcited, he rips through the flimsy material at your cunt, exposing your panties for him to see.

“you’re so...so wet ms.ln,” kirishima comments observantly, not even bothering to pull your stockings the rest of the way down your legs, instead opting to pull on the whole until it’s wide enough for his mouth to fit. “smell s’good, bet you taste even better,” there’s a patch on the crotch of your panties, darker than the rest of the material from where you leak and without a second thought, the red head instantly surges forward to lick a stripe over it, letting out a choked gripe as the taste of your cream from over the fabric invades his tongue.

you let out a shrill cry, hips jumping up at the first brush of his tongue against your untouched, clothed pussy. you wriggle even as kirishima holds you down, needing the heat of his mouth against you before your meeting starts. but he’s so good, so well trained, reaching up to your hips to yank your panties down in one fluid motion. leaning forward, kirishima savagely buries his face between your doughy thighs, hiking them over his shoulders from beneath the desk. his nose bumps against your clit, swollen from the lack of touch as he greedily inhales your scent once more— without warning, the intern kicks a stripe up the length of your pussy, sucking your juices into his mouth and smiling against your heat.

“d-don’t tease baby, be good for me,” you remind kirishima, your body trembles with anticipation, craving an orgasm to expel the stress of your work days out. the boy between your legs only hums, the sound running straight though cunt and vibrating against it, causing you to gush and spill your arousal out onto the leather seat beneath your cheeks. eijirou feasts on the slick that seeps from your fluttering hole, gliding his tongue up and down your sex, allowing the occasional pressure from his nose to stimulate your bundle of nerves.

the pads of his thighs burn marks into your legs, using them as leverage to pull your heated core further into his mouth, “can’t help it ma’am, y’got such a pretty pussy...s’only right that i worship you…” eijirou breaths right against your puffy folds, eyes trained on the way your hole clenches around nothing. a primal urge flares in his chest, a desire— no, a need— to see you filled with something, any part of him that can make you see stars and fuck you dumb. “‘m sorry, ‘m sorry you jus look s’fucking pretty miss…”

attaching his lips to your clit, the redhead pushes the spit gathered on his tongue right over your sloppy sit, hazy ruby stare watching as his saliva mixes with your juices and slides over your empty hole. he follows the oozing trail with his tongue, lapping it up and spewing it back into your sex until the pink muscle slips past your entrance— slipping inside of you with no prior warnings. your knuckles that grasp the arms of the chair as you’re spoiled between your legs by your top intern, his hands snaking their way around the tops of your thighs to spread your sticky pussy lips apart in order to bring more of you to the cool air of the office.

“you like this don’cha? dirty little boy,” you tease the poor boy, watching as his cheeks flame with embarrassment. “being a naughty little intern between your boss’ thighs all to keep on pleasing her, keep your position at her company, huh? fuck eiji, you just love miss riding your naughty tongue—ohmygod—“

the way you sound, voice smooth like chocolate over the obscene slurping that fills the thats air heavy with the scent of sex and, makes eijirou’s cock jump up, precum oozing from his tip as he begins to rut against the hard floor beneath your desk. he makes an attempt to respond, but your thighs lock his head in place and his words come out muffled against your core. “mph, luh it, you’re s’sexy, please ma’am—“ he mumbles sordidly against you, practically humping the ground at your feet as you pick on him.

for a brief moment, kirishima pulls away to watch you roll your hips into nothing, hot tears beginning to brew into our hooded eyes from the satisfaction he brings you with every flick and flit of his tongue against where you need him most. written in your eyes is the command to keep going, your hands twistingly sharply in red roots to bring the intern back to your sluice, spasming cunt. so he does as he’s told, shoving his tongue deep inside your ribbed, iron hot walls and dragging tip along them to collect and taste strings of your viscous juices.

biting your lip, you do your best to hold back a voracious howl, bucking your hips feverishly into your intern’s face and staining his cheeks with everything that you have— he thrusts his tongue into you to the pace of your own hips, moaning against your slippery slit until your eyes are rolling. “gonna cum from this eiji, from you eatin’ me out like this...jus need a little more— need your fingers pretty boy,” you can feel the twist of the knot in your lower tummy starting to unravel, signifying your oncoming high, and the room starts to spin while kirishima eats you out with new vigour.

“yeah? miss? you’re gonna cum for me?” the intern practically whines and pulls his tongue from your hear, almost crying as his hips thump against the floor desperate for friction. “wanna see you come undone s’bad, please cum for me, please, please—“ eijirou chants, replacing his tongue with two of his thick digits, watching as your slick cunt stretches around them accommodatingly. he jackhammers them inside of you, grunting lowly underneath the slaps of his palm against the meat of your ass, as he returns to your clit to suckle on it hungrily. his fingers curl instantly in search for the spongy spot inside of you— bearing down hard against it once it’s located.

“oh—hah, right there baby— right fuckin’ there—!” you squeal, only egging him on as white starts to cloud your vision, everything sounds so nasty and wet, while eijirou stimulates both of your pleasure spots. it becomes hard to breath, legs wobbling around his broad shoulders, but your intern doesn’t let up, determined to bring you to cloud nine.

“that’s it ma’am, right there—you’re almost there, can feel you clenching around my fingers...please cum, fuck i want your cum, wanna taste you so bad, cum. cum. cum!” and that’s all it takes, eijirou’s pleading voice between your thick thighs to make the coil inside you snap and for your orgasm to wash over you. you convulse in your chair, nectar gushing freely from your raw and overstimulated cunt, spewing all over the redheads face as he continued to lap at your clit to ride out your high.

but he doesn’t stop there, scissoring his fingers deep within your velvet walls as you continue to cum, making you shake your head and wail from the high levels of ecstasy.

“please eiji—n’more, can’t, no—“

“you can miss, i know you can—fuck you look so pretty when you’re about to squirt for me, please…”

as quickly as your first high ended, another one comes crashing over you in harsh waves— rocking your world as clear liquid floods from your pussy— the sheer force of you squirting, pushing kirishima’s fingers out from your tight, sappy hole. your release hits the floor with a crude slap, both of you moaning loudly almost for the whole world to hear. he doesn’t stop sucking, clearing up your pretty cunt even as you fade in and out of consciousness from pleasure— he stays lapping at you with burning, languid strokes of his tongue between your folds even as you weakly attempt to answer the phone now ringing from your desk.

clearing your throat, you muster up the strength to sound professional over the line before picking up the phone and bringing it towards your ear. “good afternoon, this is yn ln of shinku sports reports, bringing you the latest sporting news, how may i help you?”

‘this is the board, we need to discuss this month's stocks and reports.’

from the corner of your eye, you can see kirishima rise from his place underneath your desk— standing tall over you once more while you converse with the directors on the other end of the phone. as quietly as he can, the redhead tears through the buttons on his shirt in a similar way to you, prior to you fucking and unbuckles his slacks. he pulls down his boxers and pants in one go, revealing his thick, hard girth that stands tall and slaps against his stomach— tip an angry shade of red as precum smears across his lower belly.

you nod into the phone, forgetting that the board can’t see you as kirishima lifts you from the chair and lays you on your back across the desk littered with unread papers. “ah yes, i’ve been expecting a call from you…” you whisper so quietly instead, not caring if they’ve missed what you said. you’re hardly paying attention, choosing to wrap a fist around eijirou’s cock, slickly pumping him to prepare him to take you— he parts your thighs, eyes closing and body shuddering above you while you continue to converse with the board.

spreading the droplets of precum across his slit and iron hot tip, kirishima takes his cock from your grasp— heavily slapping it against your sensitive and swollen clit to see you jolt up the desk. “gonna fuck you so good miss, jus’ be good ‘n stay quiet for me okay?” he says, a whimper catching in the tail end of his words. you nod to him, rushed and way too eager, laying your head back on the hard wood your swimming gaze settles on kirishima as he taps the head of his cock against your hole, teasingly pushing it just past your entrance before withdrawing again.

‘ms. ln, are you still there? we really are pressed for time so we would love to start by discussing interviews for the next issue—‘

you forget that you’re still connected on the line, settling for wriggling impatiently underneath your intern, who’s caramel tinted skin glistens with sweat and his cheeks begin to flush with unadulterated desire— all from watching the way your puffy folds lube up his shaft with every push through them. you can see him losing his resolve, just as sensitive as you since he’s been holding back an orgasm and without the hint of a warning, eijirou’s hips jump forward and drive his cock into the deepest parts of your sex— brushing against your cervix. you gasp out in surprise, finally losing focus and barely manage a more comprehensive response to the board you have waiting on the line. “y-yes!— yes, yes, i’m still here… you may proceed with the meeting.”

he’s big, bigger than anyone you’ve ever had— and you’d seen a lot being a woman of your caliber this high up in the industry...but no one could compare to the way your sweet, doe eyed gentlemanly little intern filled you up, fat cock stretching your walls even with the shallow thrusts into your cunt he gives you to adjust. the weight of his girth sits heavily inside you, twitching as kirishima slides into you easily due to the stickiness lining your gummy walls, breath shaky and uneven as he holds out for you during this time. you can tell the poor boy isn’t going to last long, fingers sinking into your thighs with a harsh grip while he tries to hold himself back.

such a good boy, always waiting for your every command.

‘so we’d like to talk about the main feature for next month’s issue, do you have anyone in mind?’

the monotone voice of the board member is drowned about by kirishima’s shaky breaths above you, his pleading puppy dog eyes while he stills himself inside your spasming, puckered hole— he waits for permission, following orders like a trained pet even though he can hardly stand it, overwhelmed by the flutter of your sex around him and heat from your body despite thrown over the desk. “y-you’re s’warm...god ma’am...need to—need to move,” the redhead huffs weakly in order to keep himself quiet, a line of sweat dotting his brow. “please,”

you sit up on the desk, legs locking around his slender waist to draw him closer, sheathing more of the poor boy inside of you until he’s completely bottomed out and balls deep inside your pretty cunt. he drops his neck to your shoulder, tongue lolling over your salt licked skin before biting down to pacify himself, sharp teeth almost drawing blood while you adjust the cord of the phone. “i was thinking…thinking that we got the hockey player— the oylmpic champion…” your eyes drift to kirishima’s complacent face, giving him a nod to start moving while he sucks another bruise further down his onto your collarbone. “t-touya...touya todoroki—!”

you hiccup but play it off with a cough when kirishima pulls back his hips, so far that his girth completely leaves you, before he drives himself forward with one powerful thrust and fills you right up again. looking down, you see him bulge in your tummy, the line of his girth prominent against your body— slightly dwarfed in kirishima’s arms. you rock your hips, coaxing your intern into your warmth to help him build up a momentum of thrusts.

‘sounds like a good choice, do we have anyone who could interview him? i believe we can have PR set up an interview this week.’

the desk creaks below you, hard wood groaning along with the red head who hides himself in your neck, squeaking pathetically as he moves inside of you— precum smearing along your gummy walls that welcome his hardened shaft. your pussy opens up for eijirou like it’s welcoming him home, still growing used to the pleasure-filled burn and stretch of him pushing in and out of you. the nerves on his head catch amongst your inner ridges, making his toned body shake in ecstasy.

“m-ma’am, feel s’fucking good, so fucking good...” your intern hums against your salty skin mawkishly, large palms dropping to the flesh of your ass— kneading it to bring you closer to his body— cock barely leaving you due to your proximity. with slow strokes, eijirou fills you up, painting you with what leaks from his tip— prodding at your cervix and brushing up against your sweet spot in ways that make sweet nectar dribble from your hole.

your digits curl in his hair once more, the phone slipping from between your neck and creating rustling on your end. “eijirou,” you sigh breathily, humping back his cock while you squeeze around him selfishly, keeping your intern inside of you. “i-i mean eijirou kirishima, he’s an intern— such a… a good one at that…”

a immodest whimper brews in the base of eijirou’s throat, bubbling against his bruised lips while you shower him with praise, indirect to him, hand snaking up to the back of your neck— tangling in your baby hairs as he pulls you up to a sloppy kiss, slotting your mouths together and running his tongue over yours. “f-fuck mommy, ‘m i your good boy? please tell me yes, fuck, yn— ma’am,”

kirishima’s voice rises in octave as it does devoir and pathos, vulnerability stays written across his handsome features as he succumbs to the mind break the heat of your damp, creamy core as he fucks into you. you throb at his use of mommy, shakily pulling the phone away from your ear to reach up to his own, nipping the earlobe and tugging on it gently. “you’re my good boy baby, keep being good eiji, be quiet...you gotta stay quiet if you want to keep fucking mommy okay? you wanna cum inside me right?” you say, words aberrant and low toned on your tongue, your intern hisses and whines in response— nodding his head again and letting out a barely coherent ‘yes’. “then shh, baby, let mommy talk yeah?”

“hm’kay,” he babbles, dropping his ruby framed gaze to where your bodies meet, hiking your skirt further up your thighs to get a better view of your cunt staining his heavy balls with a layer of your slick.

‘ms. ln, are you sure that you want an intern to cover this case—’ the board begins to ask you, muffled from the distance away from you both.

picking up the phone again, you pull the line towards you again— mindful of capturing eijirou’s weak little mewls over the device as he languidly pumps himself in and out of you. “i know what i—fuck, what i want. eijirou, will be—oh— on the case. that's final.” you huff, watching your intern fall into a pussyhaze, his precious mind fogging with thoughts of only painting you white inside and out as a reward for helping relieve you of stress. the slow roll of his hips into yours are accompanied by the soft slaps of his skin against your own, wet and sticky— determination to make you feel good crackling across his mind.

‘there’s no need to curse, ma’am, do you need a moment to recollect yourself before we proceed with discussing the other features.’

“i’m fucking fine,” you growl, in anger or need you don’t know. but kirishima frowns, you can feel it as he start nosing up your cheek— swiping his tongue over areas of skin he hasn’t touched just yet— he grunts possessively , unhappy with the use of your title coming from anyone other than him. to prove his point, he pushes your thighs wider apart, letting you drip all over the documents sitting below your ass and ruining the ink— important or not he starts a brutal pace into your cunt and presses down on your tummy so you can feel exactly where eijirou is inside you and know that only he can make you feel this way.

‘ms.ln—‘

“i’m fine. keep going.” you grit your teeth, biting your lip to hold down your panting— again you don’t know who you’re speaking to. your intern who slows the movement of his hips, postponing in and out of your tightened hole, clamping down on him eagerly or the stupid board member giving you grief on the phone.

they proceed to talk, barking out suggestions to your sports magazine, that you hate— even considering bringing in good for nothing athletes who’d treated you like shit in the past, and you’d sworn to never work for them again.

but it’s almost silly, how kirishima lets out small moans of mommy and ma’am, trying to keep your attention on him like you would give up grinding down on your intern’s dick for some prissy member of the board over the phone— but you love the slight possession eijirou has over you, moulding your iron hot walls into the shape of his fat dick that presses up against your pleasure spots, makes you convulse and drawl and become addicted to everything that is him. eijirou kirishima.

“takin’ me so good, so well ma’am...don’t think i can hold on anymore…please,” eijirou warns you, losing control of his body as he takes you for his own like he’s done many times before after hours— your gazes lock, you can see his desperation to ruin you, moan for you despite the people on the phone and the people outside your office.

if he grows too loud, he could give you away— they could be listening in to your poor needy little intern humping you like a feral dog and whining your name. and as much as that thought makes your hole spasm around his fat cock, make his thrusts stutter and eyes screw shut while you moan in sweet, almost silent harmony, you love your job and so weakly, you take two of your fingers, shoving them deep into eijirou’s mouth as it hangs open in heavy pants of warm air. you press down on his wet tongue, fucking into his mouth in tune with the pace of his hips plunging deep within your walls, churning up your syrupy and sticky insides.

“keep quiet, baby,” you hiss to the redhead, who’s eyes start to brim with fresh hot tears from the overwhelming pleasure. “let mommy take care of this, yeah? finish up so you can let it all out on me.”

he sucks on your fingers to calm himself down, shallow breathing while he paws at the flesh on your sides and circles his hips into yours— letting his leaky tip bare down on your sweet spot and forcing the air out of your body. white hot pleasure flashes through your bloodstream, replacing any air of professionalism flooding through them. you can’t, you physically cannot hold back either of your orgasms— you can’t concentrate as your mind starts to fall away with the world and your gaze hones in on the way kirishima takes your fingers in his hot mouth so deep in an attempt to hush himself.

the coil in your tummy begins to unwind and the room swims once more. ‘ms.ln is everything okay over there— we need to progress with his meeting if we’re—‘ the annoying board member sounds underneath kirishima’s sloppy groans, saliva dribbling down the sides of his mouth. your dirty, good boy.

“i’m going to need to take a rain—hah— a rain check on this meeting. you’ll hear from me when my interns and i are ready—“ you huff, cutting the staff off and quickly throwing the phone onto the hook, you’ll have keigo deal with the consequences later but for now you focus on kirishima who picks you up by the ass, lifting you up and down on his cock in frantic movements as he finally loses all connections to his control. “ohmygod—eiji baby, slow—fuck, down—“

he shakes his head, latching onto your collar bone as he revels in the way you leak down his shaft and drip between his balls, lewd squelching sounds fluttering through the air hot, sex scented air at full volume. “‘m sorry ma’am— i can’t… i’m really close, i really need’ta cum...please ma’am...mommy, i’ve been good—please let me cum...“ eijirou groans heartily, from deep in his chest as if he’s finally releasing what he’s been holding back— arms flexing and the sweat from his body slicking up your own.

limbs shaking you wrap your arms around his shoulders and press your foreheads against one another, while you nod. he worked so hard to make you feel good, all day long to do the best job that he can— pressing small kisses to his lips encouragingly. “you can do it baby, one last thing for me— fill me up eiji, cum for me.” you whisper between bites and sucks on his lower lip, lined with a vibrant shade of red.

“cummin’, cummin’...miss yn, mommy—!” and then his hips come to a halt, his dick pulsing as waves of his cream line your insides with an opaque white, thick and seeping down your thighs. his fingers drop to your sensitive cunt, slipping quick circles over your swollen clit to bring you to your high. his cock never stops pumping in and out of you, pushing his seed further into your sex while you writhe and fall over the edge into your orgasm— gushing so hard you force him out of plugged and full hole.

losing his strength, kirishima collapses on top of you, pressing out both to the hard wood seat which you’re surprised is still standing, his lips pressing fleeting kisses across your face and neck while you both come back down to earth.

and then he looks up at you with a weak smile, “did i do good?” he asks you lazily and almost sleepily— refusing to budge from laying atop you and almost crushing you with his weight.

pushing back his hair to soothe him. “always eiji, you’re not my favourite intern for nothing,” you coo at him, pulling him up to press your lips to him in a soft kiss.

“i sure hope you don’t have any other favourites, i want to be the only one who assists you like this,” kirishima says, remaining tangled with you for a moment more in your office, content with snuggling into your exposed and bruised side.

you share a sleepy giggle, intending to clean up later— eijirou completely forgetting about the lunch he’d promised the other interns after your meeting.

oh well, assisting you was a much better treat than spending time with any one else.

2K notes · View notes

pikapeppa · 3 years

Text

Garrus Vakarian x f!Shepard: Crick

Hello friends and loved ones: I am dipping my toe into Shakarian fic. Haven’t quite decided yet how much to commit to writing this pairing in detail, so here’s a little oneshot set just after the Horizon mission in ME2. ~2400 words. (Tumblr only for now, but I’ll post on AO3 if I decide to write more.)

******************************

Garrus sighed as he made his way to the main battery room. There was a stiff feeling in the left side of his neck and shoulder when he tilted his head, and he was annoyed by it. It was his own fault, really; he’d fallen asleep at his weapons modification table again last night and woken with this crick in his neck that wouldn’t go away.

It was one of those times when he really wished he could get a proper hammer massage. There was that one place on the Citadel that did real Palavenese massage, the good kind that you really felt vibrating all the way through your carapace into your bones, but Garrus wasn’t sure if Shepard would be ordering them back to the Citadel anytime soon.

It’s just a crick, he reminded himself. It could be so much worse. The fight they’d just gone through on Horizon had been… a tough one, to say the least. Any fight with an unfamiliar new enemy could be unnerving, but seeing that Harbinger thing jumping from body to body during the fight had almost been enough to make Garrus pause.

Almost, but not quite. Archangel never hesitated or missed his shot.

He stepped into the main battery room and took a deep breath, then released it in a satisfied sigh. The air in here smelled like clean plastic and a hint of metal, and he savoured the relaxing smell just as he did every time he stepped into this room after a hard fight.

He flicked on the monitors and cracked the joints in his fingers, then started his usual routine of checking the gun settings – a routine that was more for comfort now than necessity, if he was being totally honest. Cerberus might be a pack of crazies doing their twisted human experiments, but they sure made a mighty fine canon.

He finished up his calibrating routine, and he was just about to move on to studying the Collector particle rifle that Shepard had salvaged when he heard the distinct beep-and-shunk of the door unlocking. A second later, the doors slid open, and Shepard stepped through.

She nodded briskly. “Garrus. Just checking in. You doing okay after that fight?”

“I’m just fine, Shepard,” he assured her. “I was about to start looking at your new toy here, actually.”

“That’s great,” she said. “It looks like a powerful little piece of tech. Something we can turn to our advantage, you think?”

“I don’t doubt it,” he said. “There’s nothing I find more satisfying than using the enemy’s own weapons against them.”

A small smile crossed her face, just as he’d hoped it would. He hadn’t seen a smile on her face all day, not since the Collectors had gotten away with the population of Horizon’s colony. Kaidan’s angry lecture probably hadn’t helped things, either.

She huffed and leaned an elbow on the weapons mod table. “That’s pretty bloodthirsty of you, Garrus.”

“Bloodthirsty? Me? Never,” he said. “Thirsty for justice, on the other hand…”

She laughed — a husky rolling sound that always reminded him, for some reason, of brandy-filled chocolates. “What a line. Did your time on Omega inspire you to dip your toe into writing noir mystery novels?”

“What if it did?” he said playfully.

“Then I’d tell you stick to your dayjob,” she replied.

It was Garrus’s turn to chuckle. Shepard smiled at him once more, then straightened up and nodded at the particle rifle. “I know you just got started here, but I’m interested to see what you find. Mind if I watch you working for a while?”

“No problem,” he said. “Might ask you to throw up a barrier for your own protection, though. This thing doesn’t use conventional heat sinks. I’m not sure yet if it can even be fully turned off.”

She nodded and cast herself a barrier with a quick clench of her fist, and Garrus got to work studying the Collector rifle. He scanned it to build a schematic and explained the exploded view to Shepard, and she frowned thoughtfully and asked questions about the weapon’s uses and disadvantages, and all the while, as he often did, he wondered what she was really thinking.

By any objective standards, it had been a bad day. They’d just watched most of a human colony get taken away by the Collectors. Her former lieutenant had accused her of crimes against her race right after a really tough fight, and when they’d boarded the Normandy once more, the Illusive Man had told her that he’d actually incited the Collectors to target Horizon.

If Garrus was in Shepard’s place, he’d be vibrating with anger by now. But here she was, watching him dismantle a gun with the calmest look on her face.

A solid half hour later, when he’d finished thoroughly surveying the rifle, he tapped his visor from its analysis mode back into its resting mode and looked at her. “I think that’s about all I’m going to do with this rifle for today. You need me for anything else?”

“Nothing else for now,” she said. “Thanks for the demonstration. I’ll talk to you later.” She stepped back toward the door.

On a sudden whim, he opened his mouth. “Shepard, hang on a second.”

She turned back to him. “What is it?”

He hesitated. Now he was wondering if the question at the tip of his tongue was too personal. He and Shepard were friends, sure, but his question might touch a bit of a sore spot, given what had happened today. If Garrus knew anything about Shepard, it was that she wasn’t much of one for talking about her feelings when missions didn’t go as expected. Not that Garrus was a talky-feely sort of guy, either, but still…

She raised her eyebrows expectantly, and he shook himself. He’d called her to turn around; he had no choice but to ask now. “Are you doing okay?”

Her eyebrows rose higher. “Sorry?”

“This whole Collector business on Horizon,” he clarified. “I know it didn’t go down the way we wanted, and then with the Illusive Man being, you know… illusive.” He lifted his shoulders. “It can’t have been easy.”

Her blue-black eyes crinkled at the corners. “You worrying about me, Vakarian?”

“A little, maybe,” he said. “You’ve only taken a dig at me once today.”

Another smile flashed across her face, but it was gone a second later, smoothed back into her usual businesslike expression. “I’m all right,” she said. “It’s a hit to have lost the colony, but we’ll save the next one. I’ll make sure of it.”

He nodded. “Seeing Kaidan was a bit of a shock, huh?”

She huffed and folded her arms. “It wasn’t ideal, but that’s the way it is. He’s got his mission, and we’ve got ours. We can’t lose our focus over personal feelings.”

Garrus nodded again. Everything she was saying was reasonable and true, and her calm attitude was envious, really. If Garrus was able to keep his calm like Shepard did… well, he’d tried to channel Shepard’s calm while he was on Omega, but it had only gotten him so far. Garrus had never known anyone, human or otherwise, who kept their cool all the time quite the way Shepard did.

And yet, for some reason, he just… he wasn’t sure. Her manner struck him as a little bit off, somehow, like the feeling of the crick in his neck.

She lifted her eyebrows. “Anything else?”

“How do you do it?” he said bluntly.

She blinked. “Do what?”

“Keep it together all the time,” he said. “You never seem uncertain. You always seem to know what you’re doing, even if you can’t possibly know. I have to admit, I envy you,” he admitted. “How is it that you always manage to keep it together?”

She didn’t reply right away. Instead, she just stared at him without speaking, and Garrus started to feel a little awkward. It was hard to tell from the look on her face, but he thought that maybe she was… was she angry? Surprised? Bored, maybe? He couldn’t quite tell. Human expressions were usually easy to interpret, with their fleshy lips stretching and pouting and their eyebrows leaping up and down. But when Shepard was in her ‘commander’ mode, she could be so damned hard to read.

She glanced at the closed door. Then, to his surprise, she walked over to him and sat in his chair.

She raked her long black bangs back from her face and looked up at him. “You want to know my secret?” she said.

“Secret?” he said blankly. “To what?”

“To staying calm all the time,” she said. “Can I tell you my secret?”

“Um, sure,” he said.

She leaned toward him, and he instinctively stooped down a bit to hear her better — a good thing that he did, since her voice was low and conspiratorial when she spoke.

“I cry in the shower,” she said.

His guts twisted in a funny way. “What?”

She leaned back in his chair. “I cry in the shower,” she said. “When something really fucked up happens, I get in the shower at the end of the day and I cry like hell.”

He stared at her wordlessly. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected her to say, but it wasn’t this.

A little smile curled the corners of her lips. “What’s wrong? Not the answer you were hoping to hear?”

“It’s — it’s not that,” he said. “I’m just, uh, surprised. You cry in the shower?”

“Yep,” she said. “Not bullshitting you, I promise. This is not a bet with Joker or anything like that.”

He tried to gather his wits. “So… what, you cry in the shower, and then you just… get back to being Commander Malin Shepard, saviour of the Citadel and resident Reaper conspiracist?”

She chuckled. “Exactly. It’s like a purge. Works perfectly every time.”

He nodded slowly, feeling like he needed some time to process this, and Shepard huffed and punched his arm in a friendly manner. “Not so impressed with me anymore, huh?”

That wasn’t the problem. It wasn’t that he was unimpressed. But now he was actually worried about her. In all the time Garrus had known her, he had never once imagined her crying about anything. If what she was telling him was true, though…

Hang on. How often did she cry in the shower, exactly? No, he couldn’t ask that — it would definitely be overstepping.

He scrambled to find a clever reply. “It’s not that,” he said. “Actually, I’m jealous.”

She laughed. “Jealous? Why?” Then her eyebrows rose. “Wait, can turians cry?”

“Sure,” Garrus said. “But we don’t do it often.”

“Is it hard for you to cry?” she asked.

“Well, the turian military doesn’t exactly encourage you to curl up in the corner for a little weeping time,” he said dryly.

She snorted. “Not what I meant. I was more wondering if, uh, since you have deep eye sockets, maybe your tears collect in there somewhere…?”

He flared his mandibles in amusement. “Tears don’t collect in a little reservoir under our eyes or something, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he drawled. “But yeah, we can cry. It just doesn’t happen much. Which leads me to the jealousy,” he added. “You get to sit in your shower crying whenever you feel like it? Forget the private cabin: that’s the real luxury of being the commander.”

She laughed again, more heartily this time, and the husky warmth of her laughter was such that Garrus could almost taste the sweet bite of brandy and bittersweet chocolate. “Well, if you ever want to try it sometime, let me know.”

“Try what?” he said. “Crying in the shower?”

“Yep,” she said. “You can borrow my private shower instead of using the shared showers down here, if you want. The walls are soundproof, so nobody can hear you wailing.”

For a split second, an image flashed across his mind: Shepard’s private shower. No, not just Shepard’s private shower: Shepard’s private shower, with Shepard in it. Shepard naked in the shower — what did her body look like under those clothes, he wondered? — and he, Garrus, joining her in the shower —

Wait. Wait a second. Why was he thinking about that? He shouldn’t be thinking about that. It was Shepard, for crying out loud: his friend and his CO. Who did he think he was, to imagine his human female CO naked in the shower?

He scrambled to get his thoughts back on track. “I’ll, uh, let you know,” he said. “Might have to train my eyes how to cry, it’s been so long.”

She smirked. “Nice try, Vakarian. Something tells me you’re not quite that heartless.”

He chuckled — a little weakly, to be truthful, but Shepard didn’t seem to notice; she was rising from his chair with a smile. “Well, I should go. I’ll see you later.”

“See you later,” he echoed, and he watched her surreptitiously as she left the room. Once she was gone, he sat in his chair and closed his eyes.

Crying in the shower… he honestly wouldn’t have guessed it. He’d expected her to give him some kind of encouraging advice or bolstering words of wisdom, like the sorts of things she said to the team before they set off on a mission. But somehow, hearing her say she cried in the shower was… interesting. It made him think about her in a different way. He was worried for sure, but also… comforted, somehow, to know that even Shepard got overwhelmed enough to cry. It seemed that under all that heavy N7 armour, she really was a regular person, too.

Under all that heavy N7 armour… A flash of a thought projected itself on his closed eyelids: Shepard stripping off her armour, her slender human fingers raking her sweat-dampened bangs back from her face, the small bare patch at the nape of her neck where her short spiky hair faded into light golden-brown skin…

He snapped open his eyes. Was he drifting off? He must be more tired than he thought. No other reason that he’d keep thinking about Shepard like this.

He rose from his chair and rolled his shoulders, then clicked in his mandibles in annoyance as the crick in his neck announced itself once more. “Really could use a damned massage,” he muttered. Well, he’d just have to suck it up and wait until they got back to the Citadel.

In the meantime, he’d just have to cope with the strange nagging feeling of the crick in his neck.

#garrus vakarian #garrus #shakarian #garrus/shepard #garrus x shepard #garrus x femshep #Fun fact: Garrus is actually my OG videogame husbando from back in the day #but when i first played the ME trilogy i wasn't a writer #so i could not process my feelings like a thirsty madwoman with too many emotions #I AM A WRITER NOW HOWEVER #AND MY FEELINGS CAN ONLY BE PROCESSED BY BARFING THEM ONTO A SCREEN #pikapeppa writes

204 notes · View notes

btsmosphere · 3 years

Text

Across the Tracks | KTH

~summary: Don’t cross the tracks. Never once did you question what you had been told your whole life – at least not until a certain boy makes that a bit more difficult...

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | drabble

~pairing: taehyung x reader (she/her) ~word count: 7.3k ~dystopian au, strangers to lovers, angst, fluff, inspired by lady and the tramp ~rating: pg15 ~warnings: adoption, dystopia, fictional slur, violence, arrest, police brutality, car accidents, near death, swearing

~a/n: the finale has arriiived!! I can’t thank you guys enough for the wonderful comments this series has got, it means so much to me! Please come chat with me about the last chapter🥰and enjoy.. xx

Light streamed into your eyes with the click of the van door opening, but that wasn’t what you flinched back from. It was futile to try and escape the controllers grasp though, and you were soon being tugged out and towards the front gate of a large, grey building.

On the short journey, you had managed to control your tears and your shaking, but your knees felt weak again as you stared up at the looming building.

Your eyes hadn’t even roamed its whole front when a beeping sounded, large black doors grating open before the entrance swallowed you whole.

Taehyung’s fingers trailed over the small metal barriers around every tree he passed. Who put fences around trees?

Huffing, he whirled around for the fifteenth time, ignoring the ache growing in his feet. Surely he should be near your area soon? The problem was, all the houses over here looked the same. Same neat lawns, same cute little window boxes, same front doors-

And a man leaving his front door. Someone he recognised.

“Hey!”

The guy started, alarm taking over his features as he saw the ragged boy barrelling towards him.

“Aren’t you-“ Seokjin spoke as Taehyung slowed in front of him, “what are you doing here? Stay away!”

“Listen-“ Tae panted, holding up his hands, “it’s about Y/N.”

Clattering shut behind you, the door remained steadfast in the face of your pleas.

“I have papers, I promise! I’m adopted by a Mr and Mrs-“

“Spare us the story, we’ll see what happens when we look up your name in the system,” the controller cut you off, not even looking your way as the key clanked in the lock.

“No-“ you clutched at the bars, “they gave me this – mother and father – when I got my papers. I’m not lying!”

Fishing your bracelet, the symbol of your adoption, from your pocket, you held it up-

Only for it to be snatched straight from your fingers. Yelping, you lunged for it back, but the controller held it out of reach.

“Might as well just admit to stealing this,” they smirked, “sentence is the same for strays either way.”

Words could barely form as you gaped, outraged.

“S-stealing?!” you spluttered, “but- that’s mine!”

“Sure it is.”

Losing the patience to hear you out, the controller was already walking away, your bracelet slipping into their pocket.

Jaw slack in disbelief, you stayed on the spot even as they left your line of sight. It wasn’t until the sting in your eyes became unbearable, vision fuzzing, that you clamped your mouth shut to bite down on your lip.

Slowly, you turned inwards to face the rest of the cell.

The other residents looked as shocked as you, staring back.

Hurriedly blinking, you were surprised to find you recognised some of them.

Voice cautious, Namjoon stepped towards you first.

“Y/N?”

“Namjoon?” you whispered, not trusting your voice at a higher volume, “what are you doing here?”

Looking around him, you found the mysterious Yoongi eyeing you. Beside him stood Jimin, with a boy you didn’t recognise.

“They caught onto us stealing the medical supplies,” Namjoon sighed heavily, wandering the few paces to the edge of the cell as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“I’m so sorry…” you winced.

“It’s alright,” he shrugged, looking around, “looks like they had a field day today, half the city’s in here.”

“Our half of the city,” Yoongi spoke drily for the first time.

“But what can everyone have done so wrong?” you frowned. Turning around, even among only those cells that were visible from here, you could easily see they were as packed as yours.

“Exist.”

The small voice came from the boy you hadn’t met.

“This is Jungkook,” Jimin nodded to you, “he was… staying at the restaurant with me. They found out.”

At your puzzled look, he sighed.

“They don’t take too kindly to anyone not paying rent. Any strays,” Jimin scowled darkly.

Pressing your lips together, you were at a loss with what to say. Silence falling stiffly over the group of you again, Jimin sat back onto the small bench fixed to the wall. Following suit, you sunk with your back against the bars, lungs deflating.

“It’s alright,” Namjoon’s hand landed on your shoulder, sending a grimace your way, “we’ve all been in here at some point. Well, all except one,” he added with a chuckle.

“…who?” you enquired.

“Taehyung,” Yoongi chipped in.

“Oh.” You cast your eyes down.

“Wasn’t he with you?” Jimin frowned.

You grimaced.

“Yeah, he was… but I- I lost him.”

“Just like him,” Jimin chuckled. Despite his mirth, you were only confused. “I thought something might be different this time,” he carried on, “but I guess some never change.”

“What are you talking about?” you insisted.

“Well…” Yoongi slid down where he sat, scratching at his ear, “don’t take this the wrong way, but Tae often has girls around, if you catch my drift. I thought you’d know that.”

He looked genuinely curious, tilting his head in the face of your bafflement.

“No.” you spoke. “I had no idea.”

Seokjin had been staring at him wordlessly for a disconcertingly long time. Taehyung was about to open his mouth again when the other man exploded, arms flying as he yelled, making Tae jump back.

“You did WHAT? HOW- HOW DARE YOU?! YOU JUST LEFT HER-“

“I never meant to!”

“-you should have brought her STRAIGHT BACK HERE-“

“She can choose what she wants to do!”

“She should have stayed well away from you! I can’t believe y- I hope you’re happy now-“

“Of course I’m not!” Taehyung pleaded, “just – please – just get her family to call the station and get her out of there.”

Seokjin’s ears were practically glowing red, nostrils flaring as he breathed heavily.

“I will,” he snapped, “but you had better stay away from now on, okay? You’re nothing but trouble.”

Taehyung chewed at the inside of his cheek, heart sinking. Eventually he lowered his head, nodding.

“I will.”

“Are you really licensed, though?” Jungkook asked, steering the conversation back to safer territory after the earlier revelation.

You nodded mutely.

“You don’t have anything to worry about, then,” Namjoon assured you, “they’ll see it on the system and have your family pick you up.”

“What about you?” you looked up then, at all of them.

Exchanging glances with the others, Jimin was the one to reply.

“We’ll figure out something. Maybe if Taehyung wants to show his face sometime, we’ll get out-“

Cutting himself off mid-giggle, he seemed to realise the risky topic he had just breached again. Nonetheless, it peaked your interest.

“Why would Taehyung help?”

“He knows every trick in the book,” Yoongi scoffed, “always manages to get away. Saved us from a lot of trouble, too.”

Simply nodding, you returned your gaze to the floor again when a sharp blow knocked you forwards.

Righting yourself hastily, you found the controller from earlier unlocking the door and throwing it open.

“Miss L/N, we found your file, follow me.”

Startled, it took you a moment before you kicked your body into action, stiffly standing with one more look back at the others. As the bars closed, this time separating you from them, you could only offer them a grimace and a small wave as you were led away.

But soon enough, you were occupied with different concerns.

At the end of the corridor, Sarah was waiting for you. Glaring at you from the moment you came into view, her severe expression twisted your stomach with dread. You forced yourself to keep walking, despite your legs protesting as if you were wading through treacle to meet your fate.

Piercing eyes trained on you to the last moment, she finally turned on her heel, nodding briefly to the controller before walking away. Hurrying to follow, your heart jittered at her silence. You knew you were still in trouble.

Huge globs of water spattered harshly against the windows of the summer house. This small building in your garden wasn’t built for the cold, and if you thought you had had it bad in the back room, it was ten times worse locked up in here.

All you could do was huddle away from the rattling windows and bunch the thin blanket around your shoulders as a meagre shield against the wind. Rubbing your fingers together despite the fact feeling was rapidly draining from them, you stared out into the darkness between you and your house.

The lights streaming from the windows looked so warm, you could almost imagine some phantom of heat wrapping itself around you.

But in the jumble of other thoughts in your head, you couldn’t focus and it would soon fade.

Jostling the blanket around you once again, you were alerted to a movement at the side of your house. Sitting straighter, you squinted into the night as two shapes grew closer.

A breath left you as you recognised them.

Rushing forwards and letting the blanket flutter onto your makeshift bed, you dropped to your knees in front of a window. The door was locked, but the windows would crack open a few inches. Following your lead, Jin and Hoseok sat down cross-legged on the porch, pushing down the hoods of the coats they were wearing.

You knew Sarah had left the key hanging from the doorknob, but it would be best to leave it locked so as not to risk any more punishments.

Through the raindrops clinging to the glass, you could see the cautious looks on their faces, sympathetic smiles as they tried to look reassuring.

“Y/N, aren’t you cold in there?” Hoseok frowned.

“It’s not too bad,” you lied, “thanks for coming to see me.”

At the sight of your friends, an unexpected lump was welling up in your throat and you surreptitiously swiped at your eyes.

“Y/N, we’re so sorry about what happened,” Jin was saying, “but it wasn’t your fault. They shouldn’t be keeping you out here.”

“When mother and father come back, it should be okay,” you sighed. Folding your arms against the windowsill, you rested your cheek on them.

“Well, if you want to come and stay with one of us, I’m sure you’d be very welcome,” Jin assured, “even if it’s just until then. You know how my parents are fond of you.”

Hoseok nodded vigorously.

“Thank you,” you said earnestly, “I’ll have to think about it. Just- so much happened, and I don’t know what I’m thinking anymore.”

“That’s understandable,” Jin smiled, looking like he didn’t understand at all.

“At least you have a story to tell!” Hoseok changed tack, and you couldn’t stop yourself smiling, dry laugh falling from your lips.

“Yeah, I got thrown in jail, I’m sure everyone would be thrilled to hear that,” you scoffed.

“It isn’t your fault,” Jin insisted, “I knew Taehyung was bad news…“

You stayed silent, biting your lip. Though you knew you shouldn’t, you almost wanted to defend him. He had changed your entire view of where you were, opened your eyes on the short adventure.

The conversation swiftly moved on, your friends dancing around your ordeal, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be annoyed by it. Talking to them brought some comfort, some familiarity that you needed right now.

Eventually, the night had worn colder and you insisted that they get home, especially considering Hoseok was practically falling asleep on Jin’s shoulder.

Giving a small wave as best you could through the minute gap in the window, you watched them stand up and leave, huddling under their coats again to step out into the rain. But barely three paces away, they stopped again.

With a frown, you sat up, trying to make out what was going on from their illuminated silhouettes. It was then that you could make out the shape of another person.

Even obscured as he was by your friends standing between you, it was clearly Taehyung. Your chest felt tight, not knowing what to feel on seeing him again. There was an undercurrent as you looked at him, some bitterness knowing what you did now.

But you wanted to see him again.

“Taehyung?” you called.

The three men all spun to look at you. With a glance between them, Hoseok and Jin started warily forwards to within earshot again. Hanging back, Taehyung waited with his hands folded, fingers fidgeting as he looked between each of you.

Hoseok fixed him with a glare while Jin walked right up to you, crouching so he could speak through the window, voice low enough that the others couldn’t hear.

“If you don’t want him here, Y/N, we can easily get rid of him.”

“No,” you shook your head firmly, “I want to talk to him. Thank you, though.”

Despite his uneasy look, he nodded slowly. Sharply inhaling, he turned back to Taehyung. Without a word, he led Hoseok away, although the two of them sent glares enough for Tae to turn his eyes down to his feet, bobbing his head to them.

When they reached the corner of your house, Tae deemed them far enough away to approach you.

Steeling yourself with a breath, you stayed in place as he pushed his hair out of his face. It was soaking wet, plastering itself to his forehead and sticking up in various directions after he slicked it back. His skin glistened with rain too, and he shook his head lightly to rid himself of some.

“Hey pidge…” he panted, finally sitting down opposite you.

“Hey,” you choked out.

“Listen,” he leaned his elbows on his knees, hands spread open, imploring you, “I’m really sorry for what happened. I thought you were right behind me, and when I saw that you weren’t… well…”

“Thank you for helping me before,” you kept your voice level, “and trying to get me back home, but-but being taken by the controllers-“

“But you’re back now!” his grin showed itself again, “they would never hurt a cute thing like you.”

“A ‘cute thing’ like me?!” you exclaimed, “Tae, I was so frightened! A-and what does it matter, when your friends are still in that awful place? Or do you not care as long as it’s not you in there?”

“Pidge, listen, they’ll be alright, it’s you I was worried about. I swear I never meant to lose you.”

“Like I said before,” you sniffed, “I appreciate you helping me. But if that’s all-“

“Pidge!”

You stared back at his desperate eyes through the flecks of rain on the glass. The ache in your heart wouldn’t let you break away from his wide, pleading eyes.

“Pidge, please,” he begged, shuffling closer, “don’t be like this. Don’t shut me out-“

“And why not?” you swallowed against your voice as it threatened to spill over in tears, “did any of it even mean anything to you?”

“What do you mean, pidge, of course I-“

“Your friends told me all about you. They said I was just another girl to chuck away-“

“No,” his palms pressed together, beseeching, “I’ve been with people before, that doesn’t make you any less special.”

When he broke off, you found no words to speak. Your mind was wrapping around itself as he let out a rough breath, raking a hand through his saturated hair.

When he fixed his eyes on you again, he held them intently.

“I know we’re from two different worlds, but… I didn’t want to let you go. I still don’t. You’re the first person I’ve wanted to chase so bad, and I just- I can’t accept letting you go so easily. I know things can be different, and I want them to be, pidge. I want to make it happen, and I want to make it happen with you.”

As his words washed over you, tears burned unbidden in your eyes. You could barely breathe as he spilled his heart out for you.

Letting his words hang between you once he stopped, he watched you for a reaction.

And you realised as you looked back that his eyes were filled for the first time with fear.

“Okay…” you breathed, cursing yourself at the first word to escape your mouth. Taehyung was still hanging on your every word, and he didn’t look too encouraged by that opener. You tried again. “I… want you too, Taehyung. But I don’t know how we can be together.”

You shared a sigh.

“That’s all I needed to hear, pidge.”

“But right now, I need some time,” you continued, ignoring the way your heart squeezed as his face fell, “and I think you should go.”

He gulped, but nodded, accepting his fate with downturned eyes.

“O-okay. I’ll… see you, then.”

As he stood up silently, you clamped your lower lip hard between your teeth. He walked slowly, but didn’t look back. As carefully as you could, you pulled the window shut, fingers now almost fully numb.

You couldn’t even lift yourself from the floor so you pushed yourself back and away from the window, watching him go with a growing weight in your chest.

He rounded the corner, out of sight, but you stayed where you were. Blankly staring across the garden, the dark stayed still for a short while, besides the rain still streaking through the air. At some point, Sarah’s children must have gone to sleep because the only light coming from the house was now from her bedroom.

A shape darted across the single ray of light.

Blinking, you shifted slightly, some stupid hope rousing within you that it was Taehyung. He hadn’t left very long ago – maybe he had come back?

But as you located the new person, to your alarm you found it wasn’t anyone you knew. In fact, they seemed to be utterly unaware of your presence as they jogged around the edge of the house, looking up at it, all the while clutching at a backpack slung over their shoulder.

Taken aback, you didn’t move for too long, simply watching as the person doubled back around the corner. Their hand was covering something tucked into a pocket.

It was when they stopped, both hands gripping the pipe that ran down the wall, that you finally found your feet.

Eyes widening, you crossed to the door of the summer house, bashing your palm against the window as the figure began to climb.

“Hey!” you yelled, but they only moved faster, looking around in alarm.

Not ceasing in your shouting, you hammered on the door intermittently with rattling the doorknob. Of course it didn’t give way, sending you further into panic, throwing your whole weight against the door when you saw the thief climb higher.

They had made it to the upstairs window. Your brother’s room.

Yelling with all your might now, you frantically bashed at the door. They were getting in! The window wasn’t locked, and the thief had no trouble lifting it open.

Just as they swung their first leg over the sill, footsteps thundered closer. In an instant, Taehyung stood in front of you, breathless.

“What’s going on?”

“A thief, a thief!” you shouted through the glass, pointing urgently at the window.

Spinning, Taehyung immediately found the threat.

“Shit- what do we- how do I-“

“The key!” you exclaimed, quickly hurrying on at his confused expression, “the key, it’s just there-“

While you struggled to point to the doorknob, Taehyung thankfully understood and quickly dived for it, shoving it into the lock. The moment it clicked open, you dashed out, not slowing once as you sprinted to your house.

The thief was now inside, and you wasted no time throwing the back door open, taking the stairs three at a time with Tae hot on your tail. Over the hammering of your feet down the hall, you could hear a crashing from your brother’s room.

Without a second of hesitation, you were inside, luckily finding the thief throwing drawers across the floor in their hunt for whatever they wanted – nowhere near your brother.

Even so, you launched yourself at them, seeing their eyes widen as you crashed against them bodily, shoving them further from your brother. All the noise had woken him, and his screaming joined the ruckus at the same moment Tae joined your fight.

Catching the thief from behind, Tae pulled them backwards in a headlock, grunting as they struggled, face scrunched up.

Meanwhile, you were frantically trying to grab them, to stop their arm that was clawing at Tae.

But you had left yourself vulnerable. Before you could blink, the sole of a shoe booted firmly into your stomach, sending you backwards, lungs suddenly parched of air. Free of you now that you were gasping some distance away on the floor, your opponent dropped their weight, escaping Tae’s grip.

Grappling to tackle them again, Tae was too late to stop the thief turning around. But it wasn’t just fists he had to deal with now. Struggling up from the floor, trying to heave air into your lungs, you caught sight of a silver glint as the thief pulled it from their pocket.

“Tae!” you tried to yell, but could only manage a wheeze.

Instead, you settled for dashing towards them again, but you were too late. The knife escaped your grasp and Tae cried out in pain, the two tumbling to the floor, catching the curtain at the same time, fabric cascading over them as the rail crashed down.

Not giving up, you pulled at the attacker before they could raise the knife a second time, succeeding in dragging them backwards. But they used your momentum, throwing you off them and into the dresser, sending you sprawling with it onto the carpet.

You had no time to extricate yourself before your opponent was back at the window, only just evading a dive from Taehyung as they abandoned ship and fled.

Tripping over the dresser in your haste, you started towards Taehyung. You couldn’t help but notice the hand pressed to his thigh.

Only you never made it another step.

The crack of a gunshot cut through the air.

Instantly crouching, hands thrown over your head, you didn’t initially spot who had fired. The first place your eyes travelled was to Tae, also ducked down, but otherwise unharmed.

Whirling towards the door, your heart dropped through the floor at the sight that met you. Sarah stood in the doorway, illuminated from behind. And in her hand, the gun.

Open mouthed, you stepped forward as she crossed towards the crib, your brother’s wails having doubled in volume since she had fired.

“Get away from him!” you begged.

But her gun was trained on you, and all you could do was send panicked stares between Tae and your baby brother.

“Who are you?” Sarah’s voice was high, wavering wildly as she turned the gun to Tae.

“No!” you rushed forwards, only to be stopped again as the barrel locked onto you once more.

Eyes wide and nostrils flaring, Sarah looked between the two of you, frozen in the wreckage of the room.

“Don’t you know how dangerous these people are?” she hissed, spit flying from her quivering lips.

“No, Sarah- you don’t understand-“ you held your hands up, pleading.

She was having none of it. Marching forwards, you let out a whimper as the barrel pressed briefly against you before she had you in her grasp. Wrestling you back by your shoulder, the pistol’s aim returned to Tae as the distance between you grew.

“Get over there. Hands up,” Sarah spoke, voice calmer now she had Tae at the other end of a gun. Gesturing with it, she pointed Tae in the direction of the wardrobe set into the wall.

Locking eyes with you where you were held in a vice beside Sarah, he silently obeyed.

Sidling through the door without a word, he disappeared from view, making your heart constrict in your chest. With sudden and alarming ferocity, Sarah barged forwards, slamming the door on him. Grabbing the nearest piece of felled furniture, she shoved it roughly against the door.

“Don’t you dare move, boy,” she hissed, “you’ll never see the outside of jail after this.”

But as you opened your mouth to protest, her grip was back on you, yanking you backwards, heels clunking down the stairs as you scrabbled for purchase. With brutal speed, she had reached the rarely used cellar door, managing to rip it open.

And just like that, your back was hitting the dusty floor, another slam ricocheting through the space, lock clicking before you could make it to your feet to pound against the door.

Sarah’s footsteps had long gone. Instead, the muffled sound of her speaking leaked through the door.

She was going to hand Taehyung to the controllers.

Letting your fists fall limply at your sides, your forehead fell against the door as you caught your breath. Sarah wasn’t going to pay any attention to you, no matter how much noise you could make. You had to come up with something else.

Turning your back on the incomprehensible babbling of Sarah on the phone and the screaming of your brother upstairs, you faced the towers of junk in the cellar. You had never been in here much, but you were fairly sure…

Skirting around stacks of things in the dark, inevitably sending some scattering across the floor, you hurried to get to the opposite wall.

Finally it seemed you had found it. Squeezed between teetering boxes with coats slung over the top, your fingers found a wooden surface above your head. Pushing up, it gave way until the clack of a lock stopped you, only a tiny crack of light falling over your face.

But the doors were clearly old and you persevered, jumping up and down to jostle them. They were certainly opening more than before, but you could now make out a chain linking the two trapdoors. It jangled as you shoved at your only exit, until another sound grew, filling the night and drowning out your own struggle.

A siren.

The faint crunch of tyres on the road accompanied what you recognised as the controllers’ vehicle through sound alone, confirmed by flashes of orange light that briefly illuminated the other side of the doors. You were already panting from exertion as it pulled up at the front of your house.

But you didn’t let up.

The sirens shut off. Soon enough you had kicked over the stack of boxes, tentatively stepping up onto the lower two to continue your struggle.

But it wasn’t necessary.

Your heart leapt in your chest when you heard two familiar voices nearby.

“What if it’s dangerous?”

“Then Y/N will be in danger too!”

“Wait. What’s that noise?”

“Jin!” you called out through the gap, “Hoseok! Over here!”

A moment later two pairs of feet were slapping against the ground, drawing nearer until they fell in the thin gap you could see through the doors. Soon, Jin’s face filled the central space, squinting into the darkness.

“Y/N? What’s going on?”

“Quick, help me get out of here,” you urged, leaving his question unanswered.

Not seeming to mind, the two boys’ fingers were quickly hooked over the edges of the doors. Jin unwound the chain that had been stopping you and the trapdoors fell open at last. Each taking an arm, your friends hoisted you out of the cellar. Now they didn’t want to wait any longer for explanation.

“One of my dads saw a burglar jumping from your window,” Hobi was talking immediately, “we came straight to check, but we saw the controllers are here. Did something happen?”

“A burglar broke in, yes,” you were tripping over your words, “but Tae let me out of the shed and helped me, we tried to get rid of them, only, they ran away but then Sarah came in and now she’s calling the controllers for him. And he hasn’t done anything! We need to stop them!”

And with that, you set off for the front of the house.

A bewildered look shot between your friends behind you, before they took off on your tail.

“Y/N!” Jin called, “what are you doing? Are you crazy?”

Catching your hand, he stopped you just behind the corner of your house.

“What?” you tried to pull away.

“What’s got into you!” he gestured wildly, “those are the controllers. We stay away from them.”

“But Tae-“

“Y/N, you need to think about this. You’re putting yourself in danger too.”

Next to Jin’s intense stare, Hoseok looked a little more hesitant, gnawing at his lip.

“Y/N…” he spoke quietly, “does he really mean that much to you? After everything that happened?”

You sighed. Maybe you couldn’t quite explain it, but you had to be honest.

“Yes. Yes, he does. And I’m going after him, whether you two come or not.”

Eyes softening, Hoseok nodded. Both of you looked back to Jin, though you couldn’t help your eyes slipping to the side, impatient to help Tae.

Just as the thought ran through your mind, the slam of the front door.

Jin’s hand dropped away from yours, and you shot a panicked look back at him. His lips were pursed, watching the scene warily, but as Tae came into view, stumbling down the front steps with the force the controllers pushed him, hands fastened behind his back, the reality seemed to strike.

You couldn’t wait to check if Jin was following, stepping hurriedly from behind the wall and rushing towards Taehyung. Two sets of footsteps followed behind you.

The sound bringing his attention, you saw Taehyung’s eyes widen as he caught sight of you, but your gaze was broken as a broad-shouldered controller stepped between the two of you. A shout of your name came from the front doorway, where Sarah stood, but you didn’t even acknowledge her.

“Please, you have to let him go!” you pleaded with the indifferent controller.

“Let’s get him moving,” they growled over their shoulder to their colleagues. The lights of the controllers’ vans were practically unheard of in a neighbourhood such as this, and people were beginning to take notice. Curtains were pulled aside, some stepping from their front doors.

“You can’t!” you cried, the gathering crowd doing nothing to deter you, “he hasn’t done anything!”

“Alright miss,” the looming controller held his hands out, “calm down. We’ve been after this one for months.”

“But-“

“Pidge-“ a low warning from Tae was soon cut off as the officer restraining him shoved him forward, knees hitting against the stone path.

“Tae!”

Outraged, you dived for him, not paying any mind to the controllers until large arms were muscling against you, forcing you roughly away as Tae was dragged from the floor. You were flung back unceremoniously, and would have hit the ground too if you didn’t collide with another chest.

Jin’s arms steadied you.

“Don’t touch her,” his firm voice was loud in your ear as he glared up at the controller.

“Why you…”

Turning on him instead, the controller only got those words out before a new voice was cutting through the commotion.

“What’s going on here?”

Whirling around, you found Jin’s mother storming through the still growing crowd, hurrying up the path, his father not far behind. In shock, her wide eyes moved between her son and the controller berating him.

But as she bustled towards you, Tae was being wrestled further away, a brutal hand forcing his head down and into the waiting car.

“Tae!” you yelled again, ignoring Jin’s parents as you raced towards the gate, ducking under the controller that lunged at you.

But though your feet strove forwards, the engine rumbled, tyres setting into motion. The lights whirred further away, and you couldn’t make it as Tae was ripped away from you…

“Stop!” you were shouting. They had taken him right in front of you! You were so close, eyes fixed on the car, filtering out the shocked spectators who drew away from you, “come back! Please! Tae! No…”

Behind you, Jin’s mother was giving an earful to the controller, his father steadfast beside her as Jin stumbled to meet you.

“Y/N,” his hand landed on your shoulder, light and ready to spring away at any moment, “Y/N, I’m so sorry-“

An ear-splitting screech cut through the cacophony. Eerie silence smothered the scene as a toe-curling crunching filled the air, every eye travelling to the car spiralling across the middle of the road, lights washing like crashing waves over pristine lawns until it ground to a stop.

Gaping, heart in your mouth as you saw the scene unfold, you were the first to recover enough to move. Without your command, your legs were carrying you towards Taehyung. His head emerged in the car window, looking about in alarm. He must have ducked down when they swerved.

Mumbling conversation rushed to your ears again, sparking to life between the onlookers as you finally reached the car, throwing the door open.

“Tae!” you gasped, voice ragged as you pulled him out. Though he looked a little dazed, a soft smile curved his lips as you threw your arms around him. Unable to embrace you in return, he pressed his face into your hair.

“Jin’s explained everything, dear, don’t worry now,” the familiar voice of Jin’s mother approached behind you, “we’ll sort everything out, just-“

“No!”

Silence shot like electricity from the cry. It was Jin, but-

It hadn’t sounded like Jin.

His voice grated with the ferocity of the yell, and you whipped instantly away from Tae, locating your friend.

Only he wasn’t looking at you.

Dread seizing at your being, you dragged your gaze to follow his, looking down the road.

Your throat closed, choking any breath you had been taking.

This time, you found you couldn’t move. Jin’s feet were pounding away on the asphalt, the crowd’s silence not lifting as everyone stared on in horror. Your feet, on the other hand, wouldn’t – couldn’t – move.

Vision funnelling dizzyingly, you watched the stationary figure sprawled on the tarmac.

Your stomach churned, everything lurching sickeningly as you finally persuaded your leaden legs to move, utterly numb as you drew closer, denial running rampant in your mind.

Hoseok lay on the ground, unmoving. There was blood.

That was where the car had swerved. The car. Swerved. Hit him. It must have hit him; look at the way his shirt had torn, pushed along the ground. The way his normally lively eyes were shut in an unusually pale face, arm splayed out at an awkward angle.

“Hoseok…” you tried to say, but not even a whisper made it beyond your lips.

Jin was crouching beside him, saying his name over and over and over… his hand clutching at his friend, pressing at his face, his wrist. Commotion had returned at some point to the street around you, but you could barely hear it, locked in place.

The world shifted around you, people moving, noises and shouts and more sirens and hands on your shoulders until your feet moved, but you could only stare at your friend.

He had done this for you. For you and Tae.

Was he even breathing?

You hadn’t even noticed the brimming in your eyes, hardly blinking when it finally cascaded down your cheeks.

Jin’s mother hadn’t let you go back into the same house as Sarah. She had taken you in with her own son, and Tae alongside. You stayed clutching his hand, readily accepting his warm arms.

Despite the uneasy looks from bystanders, and Jin’s parents themselves, he had stayed by your side, unusually demure as he thanked the Kims for their generosity.

They let you two keep to yourselves. You could hear through the quiet house though, as you curled into Tae’s chest, the two of you trying to take up as little space on Jin’s bed as you could.

“I can’t believe it! That boy got unlucky with those controllers,” you could tell she was shaking her head.

His mother said this a lot. That they were ‘unlucky’. That the controllers were there to protect them, that their behaviour the night before was out of the ordinary, that you mustn’t worry.

“Maybe they didn’t want to listen to him because he was… well, because of where he’s from,” Seokjin’s reply was cautious, much more muffled than his mother’s assurances, “they didn’t want to listen to me either.”

“Don’t think like that,” his father chided, “it’s understandable given what most of the people there are like. They just made a mistake this once.”

A costly mistake, if it was one.

You closed your eyes.

Trailing back into the room, Jin squeezed onto the other side of the bed, sighing heavily.

None of you slept.

The curtains in Hoseok’s house were closed. Since everything had happened a few days ago, you had only caught a glimpse of his teary-eyed fathers, coming home from the hospital.

They hadn’t spoken to you.

You squeezed Taehyung’s hand tighter as you walked past their home.

Mother and father were coming home today. It had been less than a week, but everything had completely changed since you saw them last.

Not wanting to return until Sarah had gone, you waited with Tae by your garden wall. The place you had been sitting when Taehyung first burst into your life.

While you waited, Tae was… quiet. Noticing the pallor of his downcast face, you ducked your head to catch his eye.

“Tae…” you whispered, “Tae, it’s going to be alright.”

“Sorry,” he murmured, then let out a sigh, “I’m… I’m worried- that- what if- they’re not gonna like me!”

“They will!” you hushed him, smoothing your hands down his cheeks, his hair, “and if they don’t, it doesn’t matter to me. We’ve been through a little too much to let go so easily, don’t you think?”

Turning his honey-eyed gaze back to you, a smile quirked the corner of Tae’s mouth, much to your relief.

“You sure, cub? I know I’m not exactly a fairytale prince-“

“Oh, shush!” you laughed, “I couldn’t wish for anyone else.”

Tightening his grip on your hands, he pulled you against him in lieu of a reply. A kiss landed gently on your crown.

Just then, you became aware of voices floating from the garden.

Twirling from Taehyung’s embrace, though you kept a hold of his hand, you steeled yourself. They were back.

Making your way, with Taehyung in tow, towards the front, you ignored the neighbours peering not-so-subtly out of windows at you and your returning family. As your parents stepped through the gate, they noticed you, but the smiles on their faces dimmed when they found Taehyung beside you.

Their frowns only increased as they noticed the way you ignored Sarah, who stood at the door with her two children, already packed. The moment she spotted your parents, she was ushering the children down the steps without a second glance, making her farewells very brief as she hastened to leave.

“Y/N, dear?” your mother tentatively asked as you moved forward to greet them, “what-?”

“I’d like you to meet Kim Taehyung,” you smiled. Hopefully it came across as a smile, not a grimace. “there’s a lot I have to tell you.”

The grass under you was soft, rejuvenated by the sunlight smiling through the smattering of clouds. Your usual park was empty of any others, save for the four of you.

Yes, four.

Between blades of grass and budding buttercups, Taehyung’s fingers danced across your own where he reclined, eyes creased in hopeless mirth at one of Jin’s jokes. Jin was squeaking at his own joke, definitely getting grass stains on his shirt as he fell back, rolling on the ground.

And opposite you, loud, joyous laugh finally filling the space, was Hoseok. Beside the bench he leaned against, a couple of crutches were stacked, but the cast on his ankle was the only reminder left of the awful price he nearly paid that night.

He wouldn’t be able to have full mobility again for a few more weeks, though, which is why you were still here. This park, the backdrop to so much of your upbringing, was no longer where you belonged.

Knowing its emptiness only owed to it being a school day, that the true children of this side of the tracks would always be above you, tinged it with some bitterness.

This place would always be part of your life, but it was somewhere you wanted to move on from. And after learning from you, protesting against their parents, who, it turned out, all held the same beliefs deep down, Jin and Hoseok also felt the need to make their own way. To seize the life they had never been offered.

The way the neighbours looked at you now had certainly helped persuade your parents that it was time for you to fly the nest. For weeks, your scandal had been the only thing on the lips of the gossip in your neighbourhood.

Of course, you would always come back to visit, and to watch your brother grow, but you were ready for your own life.

With Taehyung at your side, of course.

When Hoseok could walk, you travelled to the tracks together, certainly closer than Jin and Hoseok had been before. There weren’t parks here, so you waited on a dusty corner.

“So the days of living free are behind you, then?”

Turning, you found a grinning Yoongi. Pulling Taehyung into a hug, he patted him on the back.

“I’m still living free,” Tae winked at him, “free to be where I want, with who I want.”

He pulled you into his side as a startled laugh escaped you.

“So cheesy,” Jimin grumbled next, embracing you both all the same.

Namjoon and Jungkook were also introduced. Taehyung so wanted your friends to get along with his, and you were overjoyed to see him grinning the whole time. Just as you suspected, they all fit right in together.

“You’ll come and visit us, right?” you made them promise as you left.

“We’ll join you as soon as we can,” Namjoon assured with a smile.

You weren’t sure if you should feel sad.

Turning your back on the car that pulled away after a brief final wave, you found nothing holding you back. Light as a feather, you raced up the steps, breathless by the time Taehyung reached you. A few strands of his midnight hair fell into his eyes as he laughed at you, that stunning grin lighting up his whole face.

But you were the same, unable to smile any wider.

“Here we go then, pidge,” he spoke, sweeping forward to press a kiss to your forehead.

Grasping your hand, the two of you stepped further onto the platform side by side. Every glance at your wonderful boyfriend showed his exhilarated grin never let up.

The train rolled in, hissing to a stop. For most of the people bustling along the station, it was as ordinary as anything, but you were practically bouncing, eagerly awaiting as the doors groaned open.

No sooner had you stored your small case overhead, Taehyung was tugging your hand. Falling onto his lap, neither of you wasted a moment finding each other’s lips, all smiles and hands on your cheeks and in his hair as the carriage heaved into life.

The tracks whizzed by below you, taking you to a city where they wouldn’t divide you.

Thank you so much for reading!💜let me know if you enjoyed it!

This series is done, but if you like my writing I have a permanent taglist too! Contact me to be added😊

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the-silentium · 4 years

Text

A story of freezing cold and scorching heat

Masterlist - A story of shirts - A story of having each others back

Pairing: Crosshair x Reader

Words: 2748 words

Warnings: Fluff for today only ~ (I know, how unusual)

Request:

A/N: Generously brought to you by my baby of 6 years that offered me roses, cookie dough, ice cream and a romantic dinner. To all those missing such a loveable man/woman, please have this piece of fluff to keep you warm 💜

Taglist: @haloangel391 / @clone-rambles / @mandaloriandin

"Are you serious right now?" The only answer you got was a snicker from the other side of the door. "Wrecker I swear! If there's only cold water when it's my turn, I'll eat all your secret stash of cookies!"

"You wouldn't dare!" He yelled, slight panic wrapping his words.

"Don't challenge me." You crossed your arms on your chest even though he couldn't see you from his spot in the shower.

A silence passed before he tried to hit you under the belt.

"You wouldn't because then you'd be fat."

You rolled your eyes at his poor attempt. You knew his stash had a big total of two and a half boxes of cookies, nothing to transform you into a Hutt even if you ate them all in one evening by yourself. Maybe you'd puke, but this wasn't the matter at hand.

"Nooo because I'd share with everyone but you." You childishly replied, hoping that this would finally scare him enough to get him out of the shower and let you some hot water.

"I'll hurt you." He threatened.

"No you won't. One, because you're not like that, and two, because there's the 'no hurting your teammates rule'. Hunter would be really disappointed." You chuckled at his frustrated groan.

More time passed and you had to hit the door a couple of more times to get a reaction.

"Okay. I'm getting out." He said it so innocently, not at all defeated to have his pleasure ripped away from him. No, you weren't falling into that trap.

"I'm not dumb Wreck. There's already no hot water left."

The silence told you all you needed to know.

"Cookies for me it is!" You yelled as you dashed to his bunk where he tried to hide his sweets in the empty grenade box he kept under his boxers. How you found his stash in the first place was a story for another time.

As fast as lightning you ran out of the barracks to jump out of the Marauder just as Wrecker emerged from the fresher with only a towel around his waist, water still running down his bare torso.

"They're mine!" He desperately yelled after you, not daring to follow, not when the ship was based on a snowy planet.

"Wrong! They're mine now. Fairtrade for hot water must I say!" You bragged, stuffing one cookie into your mouth, ignoring the cold snaking its way into your clothes, and freezing over your feet in seconds. Damn you. Barrelling out without your boots.

Your smile grew at his apparent anger that built at each chocolate cookie passing your lips. You were at your fourth when he snapped.

"Fine! Hope you like the cold then!" He pressed the button to close the door and smirked as he watched you try to reach the ramp in time.

"Wrecker!" You pounded on the door, already feeling your resolve crumble as shivers ran up your spine. You tried hitting the opening button from your side but it came without surprise that it didn't work. He had locked the commands from inside. "Open the door!"

"No."

"Please open the door!" Your feet were already tingling at this point. Cursing your low-temperature intolerance, you continued to hit the door with the bottom of your fist, the cookies still safely stacked under your left arm. "Wrecker, please!"

You really were getting desperate fast whenever cold was involved.

You stopped pounding at the lack of answer, instead leaning your head on the cold metal to hear his faint footsteps walking away. You yelled his name again but it quickly became evident that it was no use.

Tech was aboard the ship but had plugs in his ears to muffle the sound of yours and Wrecker's singing earlier, and Maker knew that Tech could work on his prototypes and equipment enhancements for hours on end. He was the one that had the least chance to let you in.

Then there was Hunter and Crosshair who went into the nearby village to get some medical supplies after someone used all the bandages to prank another someone by tying them to a chair in their sleep.

They were gone for a while now, hopefully, they were on their way back and would make it before you froze to death.

Resolved to your fate, you crouched in a tight ball under the ship where the wind was blocked by the big boulder nearby and munched on more cookies. If you were to die on a snowy planet, better be with your stomach full of sugar.

You finished the already half-eaten box and used the cardboard to protect your feet a little of the snow by stepping on it. It didn't help much as your socks were already soaked but it did alleviate some of the cold.

You had to admit, the cookies were delicious and you would have felt really bad for eating them without Wrecker if only he hadn't locked you out.

Half a payback plan later, footsteps crunching on the snow reached your ears and you suddenly lifted your head to pinpoint the location of the newcomers.

A yelped escaped your throat as you hurriedly jumped to your feet when your eyes found the two dark helmets walking your way, hitting your head on the underside of the ship. You winced, immediately returning into a fetal position to grad at your head, dropping the boxes to the ground.

"What are you doing outside?" Hunter reached your position in a light run, his gloved hand reaching for your tingling cheek.

"Wrecker locked me outside." You groaned, still massaging your scalp in hope that maybe the attention would appease the pain.

"Because you ate his cookies?" Crosshair pushed the discarded container with the tip of his boot.

"Ya. Because he used all the hot water." As the pain faded away, you lifted your head to meet their impassive helmets and offer a quivering smile to the two commandos.

"Not again." The sergeant growled before passing his own supplies to Crosshair in favor to carry your shivering form in his arms to the ramp.

With the push of a button on his vambrace, the door opened and in a second you were out of the biting cold and melting in your boyfriend's arms, warmth finally coming into contact with your skin. The relief was short-lived as the hot air worsened the tingling in your hands. You winced in silence, although it clearly didn't go unnoticed.

"Cross," Hunter started as the sniper dropped the supplies on the nearby table, "cuddle duty. Gotta have a talk with Wrecker."

"With pleasure." You chuckled as you were passed from one clone to the other like you were about to break. Well. Maybe you were.

The 5 steps separating you from the barracks seemed endless now that you had the opportunity to cuddle with a sniper that radiated warmth as much as a high performing furnace. The best in the situation was that he couldn't deny your freezing hands and gods, they were ice cubes.

You got carefully laid on your bunk in which you sighed because it was warmer than the cold composite armor that was pressed against you seconds ago. Your fingers gripped the covers thrown on top of you to pull them all the way to your nose, leaving your eyes out of your cocoon to admire the soldier stripping from his armor.

A smirk stretched his lips as he caught you staring. He then proceeded to keep eye contact the whole time he removed the pieces of armor, trying to make you squirm under his gaze.

It was something he did often now that you passed more time together and that he allowed you to be in his personal bubble more often. His new goal now that you were aware of his feelings was trying to make you blush and avert your eyes with a gaze that told you everything that passed through his head. And he had a really, really filthy head.

Soon the heat on your cheeks was too much, prompting your fingers to pull the cover higher over your head to create a barrier between his heated thoughts and your fragile mental state.

It took a bit more than 30 seconds for him to be in his blacks and slide under the covers to wrap his arms around your shoulders, pulling you to his comfortable chest. The abrupt change in temperature hurt for a couple of seconds but faded quickly in favor of a pleasant feeling of finally thawing onto this armless container of condensed fire.

"You two really have to stop messing around." He whispered into your ear, causing a shiver to run up your spine.

"He started first." You snuggled into his neck, careful to keep your hands off any patch of unprotected skin. You didn't want to bristle him with a sudden icy touch to the sensitive skin of his waist even though it was what you desired the most at the moment.

"You're childish." He sighed into your hair, a small pressure onto the top of your scalp made you perk up in wonder.

Your eyes met his, the dim light passing through the crack of the barely open door allowed him to find your gaze in the dark. A quick flicker of his eyes to your lips made you grin to cover up your accelerating heartbeat.

"But you like it." You held his gaze this time, not flinching like your body wanted to.

"Wrong." You frowned, genuinely confused and a bit hurt. "I love it."

His fingers caressed your cheek and with a really slow movement, brought his face closer to yours. You had plenty of time to pull away or hide in his neck or pull the covers over your head but you didn't. You couldn't. Not when this was what you wanted for weeks now but was too coward to ask or initiate the move.

His chapped lips met yours tentatively. It was a simple ghostly feeling like he still wasn't sure if this was fine until you reached for his cheek to pull him to you and the dam broke.

You followed his rhythm, more than happy to follow his lead because you couldn't think at the moment. It was happening. You were kissing the grumpiest clone of the GAR and Maker does it felt good.

It wasn't rushed, this first kiss was to be perfect, an exchange of silent words and repressed feelings that finally got to be acknowledged and heard.

Reluctantly you pulled away to allow air in your lungs again, the lightness from the lack of oxygen mixed with the excitement of the moment left you drained. Your breath mended with his as he kept hovering over your face, following your lips when you finally let your tired body rest onto the pillow for support.

He stayed close, merely an inch away, breathing in tandem with you until you captured his lips again in a more demanding rhythm that he happily obliged. This time you needed more and more you got. More pressure, more speed, more tongue. Although it was never practiced before, the kiss never became sloppy and you felt it, Crosshair was focussed on your own movements this time, adapting himself to your needs.

Huffs escaped your lungs as you separated yourself from him to hide in the crook of his neck and calm yourself down in the safety of his arms.

Unbeknownst to you, his hands had entangled themselves in your hair and your shirt, the hand on your lower back gripping the fabric to keep himself from going further.

He rolled from his side to his back, pulling you with him. Your cheek rested right above his heart that was amazingly steady although a bit fast, nothing compared to your frenzy one.

You moved slightly to put you more comfortable, one leg found its home between his and your left hand dared to reach for the hem of his shirt to touch the skin hidden under the layer. A kiss on the forehead along with the acceleration of his heartbeat pushed you to sneak your hand further up, palm fully touching the bottom of his ribs and thumb moving along the top of his abdomen.

You thought he would hiss because of the difference of temperature that was still apparent but no. A sigh filled your ears and it almost made you sigh in turn, he really was warm and shit, these blacks were warmth blocking you!

"I've heard you talking to Tech a bit ago." You hummed as your brain tried to remember what you discussed with the engineer 'a bit ago' but couldn't remember. Hell, you talked so much with Tech that you couldn't tell what you talked about during lunch yesterday.

"What about?" His hand in your hair moved from the back of your head to the space between your shoulder blade, right under the collar of your shirt as you did with his.

"A holiday on your planet. One where lovers exchange gifts to express their feelings." Oooh.

"Valentine's day." You nodded, knowing where this was going. Could he really know that the V day was today? Did he consult Tech?

"I got you something." He whispered like admitting this too loud was going to create a catastrophe.

You whined as he slowly untangled himself from you, already missing the warmth and comfort of his slim body.

"Won't be long." He chuckled while replacing a strand of hair behind your ear.

"It's already too long." You pouted, hoping that your bottom lip poking out would make him stay. Your eyes saw the hesitation in his as he glanced at your mouth. You almost cheered, but then he turned away and exited the room.

Huffing, you pulled the cover over your head to enjoy in the warmth left behind by his furnace of a body.

Valentine's Day has never been a holiday that you liked very much, mainly because you were alone and seeing everyone around with their partner made you angry and envious. You tended to hide in your tiny house or pass the day roaming around the jungle, away from the affection that was never directed at you and all the words of love spoken with a passion that always made you ache.

A forced cough caught your attention, breaking your dangerous train of thought. The light illuminating the room was totally unexpected, causing you to wince and squint your eyes to see what was happening. There before your bed stood Crosshair with three flowers in his hands, their blue petals faded into a soft white towards the middle. They looked almost made of snow and ice, their extremities catching the light to sparkle like tiny diamonds.

"I know the holiday wants lovers to exchange red roses but there aren't any he-"

You cut him off by jumping at his neck, hugging his body tightly as tears ran down your cheeks to wet his shirt. The hand not holding the flowers moved upwards to gently stroke your back.

"I love them." You pull away, still crying but smiling brightly.

In the snap of a finger, he became very serious, his eyes almost hard on you, although you came to read this expression as 'I'm not messing around right now so listen'.

"I love you."

And you knew he did. Crosshair wasn't a teller, he showed people how he felt. You're an ass? A punch in the face will do perfectly. Overconfident? He'll make you doubt yourself with a simple gaze. You mean the world? Suddenly you had a buddy to hear about your fears and nightmares, a steaming coffee was always ready for you whenever you woke up from a hard night, reassurances would be whispered in your ears when you started doubting yourself, you would always have someone to make you smile at the end of the day and many more good thing meant to make you feel valued, wanted, loved without even asking anything. Yes, Crosshair talked through actions and you noticed every single one of them.

"And I love you too." Hands reached for his cheeks once again to stroke their skin while your lips met his in a new dance.

Without watching, the sniper set the flowers on the nearby bed to return to the comfort of the covers where you passed the rest of the evening on cuddling duty, occasionally throwing some kisses into the job.

#crosshair x reader #bad batch x reader #wrecker x reader #hunter x reader #tech x reader #sergeant hunter #star wars #clone wars #clone force 99 #murphy day #fluff

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stillebesat · 3 years

Text

Christmas Eve (4/5)

Sanders Sides: Janus, Patton, Roman, Virgil Pairings: Past Roceit (was toxic), Familial Moceit (Dad Janus, Son Patton) Blurb: Of all the barriers that Janus expected to have to overcome in order to get his son a pet for Christmas, encountering his Ex, Roman, working in the pet store had never once crossed his mind. Fic Type: Christmas!Eve Fic, Past Lovers to Enemies to ??? trope, Dad!Janus, Kid!Patton, Frogmin!Virgil, MythicalMin!AU, Frogmin!AU Overall Fic Warnings: Past Toxic Relationship Talk, Manipulation/Lying Talk, Human-ish Creatures kept as Pets Taglist in Reblog

To Catch Up: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Roman regretted the words as soon as they left his lips.

The Dameon he knew could spin the truth like a top. His stories sounding so believable that even now, years later, Roman still had very little idea what he actually knew about his Ex...besides the fact that he was a slimy no good lying viper. If he wanted to get a Frogmin for his kid, then Roman was sure Dameon could point to any cage on the shelf, and despite Roman’s years of experience, convince him that whatever cage he picked would be perfectly adequate to hold the Frogmin.

Oh Crofters, would the Frogmin they picked out be okay going home with them?! He couldn’t remember Dameon being cruel to animals, but the guy had never shown an interest in them either. Sure, Pattey seemed sweet enough but if Dameon was his actual dad then what if it was all just an act. What if--

Dameon huffed, running his fingers through his curly hair, messing it up in a way that Roman had never seen him do when they’d been together. He straightened, briefly meeting Roman’s eyes as he slipped a hand in his pocket, moving a couple of steps down the aisle to give his kid some space to interact with the Frogmins without them hovering.

Reluctantly Roman followed, his attention split between ensuring Pattey wouldn’t reach into the cage and terrorize the Frogmins...and watching his Ex’s every move.

“You and I both know that I could just point to a random cage and convince you I’d bought it elsewhere, but I hope that the picture I took will be more than enough proof that I have the proper setup?” He asked, pulling out his phone and fiddling with it before holding it out to him.

Well...pictures could be faked….but considering Dameon had obviously not expected to see him here...would he have gone so far as to fake a photo? It was possible. He’d done it before to fake several incidents at college parties they’d gone to...but a cage for a new pet for his son? Who would think to fake that?

Roman exhaled. No. He’d think himself in circles until well past midnight if he tried to read too far inbetween the lines. It was Christmas Eve. Dameon wanted a Frogmin for his son and Pattey seemed genuinely excited to have one. It had to be the truth. He had to believe that.

For now.

“If you’ve bought some dinky little hamster cage, Dae, I’m not letting you leave here with any creature until you have a proper setup.” He said, taking the phone from him.

Dameon’s eyes flashed, his mouth quirking up in a half smile as he glanced over to his son who’d somehow managed to cox basically every Frogmin in the cage closer to him.

Impressive for a child. It must be those soft honey eyes.

“I did do some research beforehand.”

“You know can’t trust everything on Google right?” Roman asked as he zoomed in on the image of the kid, Pattey, standing next to a cage as tall as he was. He had to admit. It was a nice setup. Not the most expensive home for a Frogmin he’d seen, but it was a good middling sort of cage. Multilevel, plenty of foliage, there was even a mister visible from the side to keep the place humid.

“I did ask multiple store employees as well...but I got differing answers.”

Typical. Ask more than one person and you’d get more than one answer. Still. It looked like Dae had managed to get the proper stuff. “What sort of pond do you have within? A bowl?” People always tried to use cheap tupperware to make a pond for their Frogmins, but it never worked out well in the long run.

Dameon scoffed, taking his phone back, fidgeting with it as he turned his head away to stare at a nearby cage of little Nagas. “As if. It’s a filtered thing. Not a waterfall, I couldn’t risk the splashing, but it has running water. Fresh. Takes up half of the floor of the cage, the rest is moss and dirt.”

Huh. Despite his reluctance to give his Ex any credit...he really hadn’t done half bad. Roman crossed his arms. “Hideout?”

Dameon shrugged. “There’s a rock cave on the ground, a wooden one higher up, and Pattey had me grab a moss hammock four stores ago. Just in case.”

Four? “....And just how many stores have you been to today?” On Christmas Eve. Shouldn’t he be like...going to some big fancy party or something? Or…at least getting ready for Santa’s arrival?

Dameon grimaced, slipping his phone back in his pocket. “Fifteen.” He admitted, keeping his attention firmly on the cage in front of him.

Roman whistled. Talk about dedication. “Ouch.”

“Mmm.” His fingers twitched as he glanced to his son, wearing that half smile of his. “No one else in a hundred and fifty miles has them.”

Roman’s eyebrows shot up. A hundred and FIFTY miles? Dude. Good news. It meant there was a low chance of him ever having to encounter his Ex again after tonight if he drove this far. But Dude. He drove this far? For his son? The Dameon he knew wouldn’t have gone through half as much effort. He would have convinced someone else to do all the work for him instead and then take the credit.

“Talk about a Hail Mary then coming all the way out here without calling first.” Especially since his store was closing like...right now. “The Mythical Mins have been quite popular this year. You’re lucky my store had the foresight to quadruple our orders.”

“I did try calling.” Dameon said, holding out a hand to the Nagamins, a flash of wistfulness crossing his face as he watched the minis leisurely slither about within. “After the first two failures...I called the next--oh, six?” He grimaced. “Those who actually answered assured me that they had them in stock--only for us to find that they’d sold out by the time we showed up. I stopped calling after that point. Just looked up the next pet store and drove.”

Wow. That was--- “I didn’t think you’d ever be so persistent. Especially for some kid.” Wait. Roman blanched. That came out so wrong--

Dameon’s eyes flashed with all too familiar anger as he whirled to him, his hands clenching. “He’s not some kid, Roman, he’s my son. And as cliche as it is...I would move heaven and earth to make him happy.”

Roman jerked his hands up. “I didn’t mean--” Yeesh. And he was hoping to avoid triggering Dameon’s temper. He just hadn’t expected his Ex to be...that protective. Of course, he just hadn’t ever seemed the type to...settle down either. “That came out wrong.” His words were usually wrong in some fashion when Dameon was present. “Honestly, I’d be more surprised if he wasn’t.”

Dameon exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck, the anger unexpectedly vanishing as quickly as it had sparked. “The eyes right?” He raised a hand to his own golden ones.

“Well...yah. They’re practically the same.” Unfortunately. Though on the kid it was cute instead of terrifying.

He dropped his hand. “Yah...well you saw it quicker than I did.” He looked back to Pattey.

Roman blinked. “Wait. You--”

Dameon huffed, shaking his head. “It took me...a bit...to believe he was mine.” He said in a low voice.

Roman scoffed “You saw his eyes and you didn’t--weren’t you expecting him?! Weren’t you there for his birth?” Hadn’t Dameon just said he would move heaven and earth for the kid? He would have thought--

His Ex ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up further before he gestured to himself. “Do I look like--No. I--I’d--I’m---” He exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You know how I was, Ro--I didn’t--”

Was. Roman raised an eyebrow. He’d never heard Dameon stutter this much since...well, their first meeting. “And you were always so eloquent.” Flowery words, hidden meanings, barbed compliments. He’d lost more sleep to figuring out just what Dameon had actually said to him and what potential meanings his words held during college than he ever had over studying for finals.

Dameon rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

“Make me.”

Those were fighting words, Roman knew.

Yet his Ex didn’t rise to the bait. He hunched his shoulders, visibly taking a deep breath before relaxing his hands. “I’m not like that anymore. I’ve chan--” He cut off grimacing.

“....You’ve changed.” He’d heard that particular phrase a dozen times in college. Yet this time...it seemed just a tad more...believable.

Dameon exhaled, giving a slight shake of his head before meeting his eyes. “I’m trying to be a better person...and even if I wasn’t,” he gestured to his son, “I would much rather walk out of here with a Frogmin than without one for his sake.”

Wouldn’t any parent? At least the ones who wanted to prevent a meltdown. Roman tilted his head to the boy. “He is a cute kid.” Despite who his Father was.

“He is.” Daemon said, that fond half smile appearing on his lips again without any sign of the malice Roman was familiar with. “Some days...I wonder how I got so lucky.”

Yah...karma had obviously gotten mixed signals there.

Mentally Roman kicked himself. And that was how he’d end up getting the three Christmas ghosts visiting him tonight. Sure. He was still obviously bitter about his Ex. But he knew people could change. Just because he couldn’t picture Dameon being a good Dad, didn’t mean it wasn’t possible. Not when the apparent proof was standing right before him. “Well...it seems like Fatherhood has done you some good.”

Red tinged Janus’s cheeks as he raised a single eyebrow. “Is it really that hard to believe? That I could be a good dad?”

Had he ever looked back on their college years? The list of why he wouldn’t be a good dad could easily fill three books.

But. Roman tilted his hand back and forth. “I only ever knew Liar Dae.” He said simply.

There was still a chance he was still talking to him right now, though from what he’d seen so far he’d like to believe otherwise.

Dameon grimaced. “Right.” He ran a hand through his hair again. “Right. I--”

“DADDY!! PRINCEY!!!” Pattey squealed as he rushed towards them, his hands held up high to show them a tiny figure with purple and black spots hanging on to his fingers for dear life. “I GOT MY FROGMIN!”

Roman blinked, mouth dropping open as he recognized the rebelliously reclusive Frogmin who had sworn over a year ago that he would never go home with any human.

“Virgil?” He whispered taking a half step forward as Dameon dropped to his knees in time to catch his son before he could run face first into their legs.

“He picked me, Daddy!!” He picked me!” Pattey cried, practically vibrating with excitement as Dae quickly brought his hands up to surround his son’s, keeping the little emo Frogmin from being jostled further.

“That’s great, Pat!” His Ex said as his cool golden eyes gave the Frogmin a once over, his fingers twitching on his son’s hands.

Roman made a soft sound in the back of his throat as the Frogmin hissed, ducking down out of sight.

Yah. That was Virgil alright. The hiss was his trademark sound after he’d learned it from Roman’s own Min, Logan. But why would he come out of his dark little corner to--how had Pattey even convinced him?! Roman himself had tried every trick in the book to warm the dark and stormy emo of a Frogmin up to the idea of being owned by a human.

Nothing had worked.

Though Roman couldn’t remember ever offering spiders as a bribe before. Was that honestly all that it would have taken? A different food source?

“Virgil?” He asked again, biting his lip as his voice elicited another hiss from the Min and the unwelcome attention of his Ex.

Dameon looked up, eyes flashing. “Is there a problem?” He asked in such a Karen tone that Roman automatically bristled at it.

“Ye--No? NO!” He said slashing his hand across his chest in denial.

Dameon huffed, his hands remaining steady on Pattey’s as he half turned to him, giving him the look. “Roman.”

Roman glowered at his name, baring his teeth in what could barely be called a smile. “I said, NO, Dameon.” He said working to keep his tone even and obviously failing by how his eyes sharpened. “It’s just that Virgil’s never wanted to go home with anyone before. I’m--” Worried. Surprised. Concerned. Curious. The list could go on forever. He knew Virge after all. And there had been plenty of kids just like Pattey -besides the golden eyes- who’d wanted Frogmins before and Vee had never shown himself to them.

A variety of emotions flashed across Dameon’s face too fast for him to process as his Ex tilted his head, staring at him in such a way that Roman was sure he was analyzing every word he used and movement he’d made. “Worried he won’t be a good fit?” He asked, his tone more mild than Roman had been expecting as he dropped his hands from his son’s, though he could hear a hint of bitterness to it.

He’d be lying if he said the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. But--- Roman exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck as he held out his other hand, tilting it back and forth. “Honestly...Virgil probably likes me about as much as I like you.” He said, watching as Dameon winced.

“And that means...?”

What else did Dae expect him to say? Their relationship had been toxic. Before ten minutes ago, Roman would have said that all he felt for Dameon was utmost hatred.

Now though?

It was...it was all so muddled. He was seeing a side of Dae that he’d never seen before. He didn’t know what to think. “Soo--”

“It means we’ll be besties!!” Patton cried, honey eyes positively lighting up as he bounced in place, eliciting another hiss from the Frogmin. “I’ll be the Prince and Virgil will be the Dragon Witch and together we’ll defeat the evil Aaraog and we’ll all live happily ever after! Right Prince Roman?” Pattey beamed at him, holding his hands out, fingers uncurling so that he could see Virgil.

The Frogmin growled, dark hair falling in front of his mismatched eyes before he adjusted his legs, jumping to the boy’s shoulder.

Pattey let out a giggle, scrunching up his shoulders. “Vee, that tickles!!”

Roman let out a breath as Virgil ducked down into the collar of the boy’s jacket. A Happy ending huh? “...Right….That.”

Daemon’s own smile was rather brittle as he stood, ruffling his son’s hair. “Soo…” He said echoing Roman’s tone of voice as he looked up, eyes for once not looking cold and calculating, but...resigned? “It looks like Virgil here wants to come home with my son.” He said, gesturing to the Frogmin peering out from Pattey’s jacket. “Is there paperwork or something I need to fill out for him or--?”

Right. No need to drag out this conversation any longer now the kid had chosen his new pet. “Yes. You’ll need to fill out forms and Virgil--” He cut off as the Frogmin hissed giving him the middle finger. He tsked. Now that wasn’t appropriate for a child to see. “Virgil.”

The Frogmin shook his head, spots slightly glowing as he glowered at him. “No Box, Princey.” He said, with a slight echo to his voice.

Princey? Roman pursed his lips together. Of course the Emo Nightmare chose to finally speak to him now that he was leaving the store. Typical. A true Christmas Miracle. Logan would be so proud to hear that the little EmoFrogmare had finally broken his silence to Roman.

Pattey reached up, cupping his hand protectively around the Frogmin as he gave Roman the saddest puppy dog look he’d seen this holiday season with the watery eyes, trembling lip and everything. “Vee can stay with me right? I’ll keep him warm.”

Yes, but-- “You know that’s not our policy, Vir--” He exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose as Virgil let out an even longer hiss sounding like an agitated rattlesnake. “Fine. Fine. But if you fall and break your leg it’s not my fault.”

Dameon coughed into his hand, doing a poor job of hiding his smile as Virgil flashed him a thumbs up, curling up against Pattey’s neck as the boy gasped, eyes going wide.

“No! No breaking! He’ll stay Safe!! Virgil is MY PROTECTOR!! He’s eating the spiders!” He said, shaking his head hard enough that the Frogmin would have fallen if the kid’s hand hadn’t been right there for him to cling to with his little sticky fingers. “Promise!”

And this was the boy EmoFrogmare wanted to go home with? Roman didn’t understand at all. He raised an eyebrow as Vee settled once more on Pattey’s shoulder. “That’s good. Just be careful alright?”

Virgil hissed in response, baring his teeth at them.

“He really doesn’t like you does he?” Daemon commented in a low voice.

Roman rolled his eyes, gesturing for his Ex to follow him to the checkout counter so he could grab the proper forms. “Nope.” He said, popping the P. It was kinda irritating too. He could charm all the other Mins in the store and get them more comfortable and out of their shells before going to their new homes, but Virgil had never warmed up to him.

Dameon gave him a crooked smile. “I’m sorry.”

Roman stiffened at the unexpected third apology falling easily from the snake’s lips. How could he say it now for something that wasn’t even his fault when he couldn’t even apologize for--for...everything that had happened between them back in college?

He shook his head, waving it away. “Don’t be--well you can be once you pay for him.” He said, jabbing a finger in his Ex’s direction before pulling out the forms and a pen. “Then his bad behavior is on you, not me.”

To Be Continued. Part 5

#Christmas Eve #stillebesat #Sanders Sides #Roman #Janus #Patton #Virgil #Creativity #Deceit #Morality #Anxiety #Dad!Janus #Kid!Patton #Frogmin!Virgil #MythicalMin!AU #Frogmin!AU #past toxic relationship talk tw #manipulation talk tw #lying talk tw

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janekfan · 4 years

Note

for the bingo prompts could i request 'unexpected trigger' for martin? you don't grow up in a home like he did without occasionally unlocking repressed memories.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28963869

Here we go!

Shake it off. You’re alright. Nothing you haven’t dealt with before. You made it through then! You’ll make it through now!

Martin let his consciousness stream with all the tricks and coping mechanisms he’d ever picked up from his brief time spent in various support groups with their stale biscuits and cold, bitter tea. It had been a bad morning, his mum’s cross mood from the night before carried over into the early hours and Martin got very little sleep. He’d made her a rubbish breakfast that she tossed in the bin before slamming her mug into the floor--

And it was.

Fine.

Everything was fine because he would make it be fine.

He’d do his job and make Tim and Sasha and Jon tea that would be appreciated and they would smile, well Jon wouldn’t but he would find an empty cup an hour later and that was almost as good, and the others would thank him. Martin was good at taking care of people. It’s what he did best and he couldn’t let one bad day ruin that for his friends no matter how brittle his nerves were.

“Oi, Marto.” Apparently he hadn’t schooled his expression as well as he thought. “You alright?” The concern put him on edge, the soft tone a niggling itch in the back of his mind and filling his stomach with a churning unease. Flee. Run. Escape. Nothing good ever came of being burdened by him.

So he laughed lightly, hitching his messenger bag a little higher, subconsciously placing it between them. A barrier. Ridiculous. Like Tim would ever--

“Martin?” The hand on his shoulder wasn’t unwarranted and he barely contained the flinch. Wouldn’t do for Tim to notice how his worry, his kindness was clouding his reality, every inch of Martin’s skin screaming for contact and isolation both. He shook his head to clear it.

“Sorry, Tim. Didn’t get much sleep.” He offered up a hollow smile, knowing it wasn’t enough to fool him, praying it was enough to get him to drop it because all he wanted to do, needed to do, was get away.

“Okay, well. Lemme know if you wanna skive off.” Lopsided, his grin didn’t seem real and Martin couldn’t stop himself from reading into it. “I’ll cover for you.”

“Thanks Tim.” Exhaled on a stagnant breath and finally allowed to retreat, Martin tried in vain to slow his racing pulse, burying himself in his translation.

He waited patiently as Jon flipped through his pages, brow creased in the familiar way that meant he was about to be scolded. Martin knew it wasn’t his best, far too distracted by Tim and Sasha’s questioning looks to truly focus. Jon was quiet. Pensive. Fastidiously tapping the papers together and clasping them together with a binder clip; something Martin forgot to do. Any moment now. Meticulous, Jon set the packet aside, on one of the many piles he had to sort through. Piercing, his brown eyes met his own over the rim of his glasses.

“Your work rarely contains this many errors, Martin.”

Jon might as well have struck him, the calm, calculated words so much like a physical blow, and salt flooded his tongue, filling his mouth with a handful of coins like copper choking him, choking him, choking him. It wasn’t right. Jon wore his everything on his sleeve. Easy to trust, to read, predictable. He was supposed to yell. Speak harshly and honestly and just on the edge of too mean.

“Martin?” There was that concern again, soft and false and sounding a warning so deep in his veins he couldn’t ignore it, rabbiting heart squeezing hot blood through his body and urging him to disappear. “Are, are you alright?” He was coming around the desk, the barricade between them smaller, smaller, smaller, no longer there as Jon stood with some distance between them, arm held out, reaching, but hesitating, face twisted up in fear(?).

“I’m sorry. Yes. Of course, I’ll fix those files for you.” He was crying, not even trying to stop because he was suddenly in the room with his mother of all people and she didn’t care if he was upset. Only cared if the job was done so he’d do it. He’d do it. And she would love him and mechanically he felt himself move as if someone else was pulling his strings and it was easier to let it happen.

“M’Martin, wait.” There was a hand on his arm, tentative and light and Martin looked up into Jon’s concerned face, snapping suddenly back into the reality of the Archives and catching himself in time to not shrug away. The touch was barely there, easy to remove, not grabbing, gripping, grasping his clothes and hauling him towards-- “Take a moment, here, here, sit down. Catch your breath.” Guided, not dragged, to Jon’s chair, still warm, grounding, and from seemingly nowhere, Jon produced a handkerchief, passing it to Martin and letting their fingers touch just slightly. “There now, alright.” Fingertips ghosted between his shoulder blades and he tipped forward under their silent suggestion, burying his flushed face in the clean cotton, drawing inwards enough that he only heard Jon come back from wherever he’d gone. The door was closed, the shade drawn, the lamp turned low, and the desk between them again as Jon worked on the other side of the desk. Martin groaned, chest aching when he straightened up.

“Martin?” Firm. Not demanding, but not leaving much room to stay silent and he appreciated it more than words could explain.

“I don’t. Jon.” He waved away his words and the knotted tangle of anxiety began to loosen.

“No need to apologize.” Their eyes met and Martin saw understanding reflected back. He could explain or not. There was a choice, but no pressure and the next breath came easier. “Now. I’ve marked the passages that don’t make sense. I’d like this back first thing tomorrow morning, if that’s agreeable, Martin.”

“‘Course, Jon. First thing.” He accepted the bundle with Jon’s neat cursive blue in the margins and stood, shaky but no longer overcome with the desire to run as far and as fast as his legs could take him. “I’ll be around with tea in a bit.” Jon had gone back to his work but he nodded.

“Thank you, Martin.” The scritch of his pen didn’t slow and Martin let himself out, closing the door behind him.

Jon’s handkerchief still clutched tightly in his hand.

#TMA #the magnus archives #panic attack #martin centric #martin blackwood #jon sims #martin has childhood trauma #implied child abuse #implied child neglect #Emotional Hurt/Comfort #angst #fear #anxiety

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ruewrites · 3 years

Text

I Wanna Hold Your Hand

AO3

TaBoL

Ship: Solomon/Asmodeus

Word Count: 2082

Warnings: Mild Violence

A/N: Day 4 of Solodeus Week! I decided to mix Royalty!Au with Curse. I will be updating TaBoL again after this week, but I hope you enjoy the lightness of this oneshot with the heaviness going on in the main story right now!

Asmo was more than delighted with their little predicament. Solomon, however, didn't exactly share his enthusiasm.

"Asmodeus, my palm is getting sweaty."

"But we get to hold hands!" Asmo squealed, "You love holding my hand!"

"True, but I also love to do things with my hands."

It was incredibly hard to read his spells right when the fifth born prince of Arcadia was on top of him and in his lap. It was incredibly hard to focus when he was also moving his hips against him and kissing along his neck. He was lucky that it hadn't been a more dangerous spell. But he also couldn't blame Asmo. After all, he was more than happy to be an active participant in his actions.

It wasn’t that he was unfamiliar with curses, no, in fact he was very familiar with them. Some minor ones could be useful for catching thieves, or wiggling the truth out of liars, but he never imagined that one like this would stick him to Asmodeus. Perhaps he should be wiser when choosing readings in Asmodeus’ company.

With a sigh he grabbed his book with his free hand and dragged Asmo with him to the edge of the bed. There had to be a way to undo this spell. Not that he didn’t like holding his hand, he loved holding his hand, but certain situations would call for him to use both of his hands. Not only that, but he and Asmo couldn’t always be together, and being stuck together when they needed to be in two places at once was rather inconvenient.

Asmo leaned against his shoulder, eyes glancing down to the book and back up to Solomon. Solomon’s lips moved ever so slightly as he looked over the words, trying to make sense of the text before him.

“This is nice,” Asmo chirped, interrupting his train of thought. “I like watching you read, you look very attractive when you’re focused.”

Solomon couldn’t help but roll his eyes, “Well thank you, but focus requires quiet, and I’m going to need that in order to figure out what we need to do to fix this.” If he was able to poke Asmo’s nose he would have. So instead he placed a small kiss on it.

“I don’t think we need to fix it so quickly. I don’t think it’s that big of a problem."

"You'll think differently when we have things we need to get done, I don't think it is incredibly possible for us to function like this."

"But-"

"Shhhh. We'll be holding hands while I figure out what we need to do.”

Asmo seemed slightly satisfied with that answer and remained silent as Solomon continued to scan through the book.

***

“Solomon! Slow down!” Asmo squeaked, stumbling along behind the king. He’d called a carriage to take them to the outskirts of the kingdom. Just as their luck would have it, it appeared that Solomon was only missing one singular ingredient needed to fix their little screw up.

All the sudden he felt himself jerk back as his fiance dug his heels into the earth, “Asmo-”

“You almost took me through a mud puddle Solomon. A mud puddle! Do you realize how hard that would have been to get out of my clothes? You’re being such a reckless man!”

“Alright, alright, I apologize,” Solomon said, “But darling, you need to keep your voice down, we don’t know what could possibly be prowling around these parts.” As he spoke he noticed Asmo’s eyes go wide, fixed on something behind him.

Great.

Perfect.

Did he dare turn around or should he just curse his luck further?

Before he even had the chance to turn around, Asmo was yanking him out of the way. His eyes just managed to catch quills slicing the air where his head had been moments ago. The two of them stumbled off into a tree where Solomon finally got a glance at the creature. It had a humanoid face, surrounded by sharp quills, it’s body was that of a large cat, and it’s tail was spiked, thrashing widley. It’s fangs were bared towards them as Solomon tried to put himself in front of Asmo.

“I can’t get to my dagger,” Asmo whispered, “Not with my dominant hand anyways.”

Because Solomon was currently glued to it.

His eyes never left the beast. He couldn’t risk it pouncing and catching them off guard.

Being stuck together wasn’t too bad.

But being skewered together wasn’t something Solomon was looking to try.

“Just stay close,” Solomon whispered, bringing Asmo closer to him, “Listen and do exactly what I say when I say it."

Asmo's nod was so slight that Solomon barely registered it. They waited, letting their hunter circle them. Swaying back and forth, looking for an opening. This was the downside of being stuck like this. Yes Asmodeus was strong, and Solomon knew he could take care of himself, but he didn’t like the idea that he was the one putting him in danger. He should never intentionally be putting him in harm’s way.

He would put himself down first, but if something happened to one of them, they were both doomed. Asmodeus would have even less of a chance of surviving if he was stringing along his corpse. The stakes were higher than they normally would be.

His eyes drifted downwards to those sharp talons, the way they curled in the soil. He just needed the right moment, an opening.

Then the beast stopped.

"Left!" Solomon didn't give Asmo time to respond, yanking him along as the beast lunged for them. They stumbled onto the ground together, narrowly avoiding being slashed open.

But the beast was quick and agile. Solomon barely had the time to raise a shield above them before it pounced again. He could feel the strain on his body with each blow that came down onto the barrier. This creature really wasn’t going to give up until it had them both between its jaws.

He’d failed his kingdom.

He’d failed Asmo.

He’d failed.

At least he could die in his love’s arms.

“Solomon-”

“Asmo, I’m so sorry that things are going this way. I-”

“That’s great darling, but look underneath us,” Asmodeus sounded oddly calm. Solomon debated if he should take his eyes off of the furious creature before them.

“Darling,” he could hear the exasperation in Asmo’s voice, and soon a flower was in his line of vision, “While I love the dramatics you’re putting on, isn’t this the little flower that was in your book?” If they weren’t about to be eaten by a giant beastie, Solomon could have kissed him. His absolutely wonderful Asmodeus.

Solomon’s grin was wider than the maw of the creature, “Perfect! That is exactly what I was looking for, now put a petal in my mouth.”

“Excuse me?”

Solomon hissed as the creature threw itself against the shield once more and his magic flickered. “Asmodeus please just do it.”

Asmodeus quickly placed a petal on his tongue and Solomon started to chew. Then, once he thought it was good enough, he spat it onto their hands.

“Ew Solomon!” Asmo screeched, but Solomon would make it up to him later.

Their hands were now freed, but Solomon wasn’t sure how much he would be able to do after he drained more of his powers trying to keep the beast at bay. All he knew was that he’d do anything in his power to keep Asmodeus safe, even if that meant providing a distraction long enough for him to run. All he had to do now was prepare himself to take the wall down. All he had to do was breathe and think of Asmo’s wonderful smile.

But he didn’t even get to think too much about anything aside from that.

As the beast reared, Solomon lowered the shield, and then a figure darted past him. A terrible screech echoed all around them as Asmo plunged his dagger deep into its chest and twisted. He didn’t let up, didn’t let go. Even as it toppled backwards, Asmo pressed forwards staying on top of it until it’s thrashing movements came to a halt.

Asmo’s back rose and fell as he removed his dagger. Blood splatter sprayed his front and his arms, his dagger glistened a dark crimson. His hand raised to his head, and then he hesitated, a look of disgust crossing his face.

Solomon wasn’t sure what it was, but something about the image sent a wonderful red color straight to his cheeks. Something inside of him wanted to ravish the prince. But Asmo smacked his hand away as soon as he went to reach for him.

“Oh no. Nuh uh. Who told you it was okay to spit on my hand? My husband should know better! That was absolutely revolting,” he snapped. The tip of his dagger rested on his chest, but Solomon didn’t even flinch. Instead he brought his hands up and gently cupped Asmo’s face.

“I’m sorry my love, I did what I had to, but I promise that I can make it up to you.”

Asmo raised an eyebrow.

“How about a nice warm bath where I tend to you and spoil you?”

Asmo’s eyebrow raised a little higher.

Oh he was insatiable.

“Perhaps I could call the tailor in? I could get new clothes made and ordered for you, maybe even get your crown shined?”

Asmo let out a sigh and dropped his dagger from Solomon’s chest, “I suppose we can talk about it.”

He was forgiven.

Solomon took that moment to press a kiss to Asmo’s lips, “Good. Now, why don’t we head back and get you cleaned up before more trouble manages to find us.”

The walk back was a lot less eventful, and Solomon could feel his bones start to ache. His eyes glanced over to Asmodeus, his hand gently laying by his side. He couldn’t help himself. Testing the waters, Solomon moved closer to brush their fingers together. Asmo glanced at him and Solomon repeated the action before intertwining his fingers with Asmo’s.

“Now King Solomon,” oh Solomon loved the way he said that, “I thought you didn’t want to hold my hand anymore.”

“Of course I want to hold your hand. I do love how soft they are, and I love how your fingers look wrapped around your dagger.”

“Oh you would love something so brutish wouldn’t you?” Asmo teased, “Refined King Solomon, who is always so deep in his books, loves watching the delicate little Arcadian prince slaying a big ugly monster because of how his spit-covered hands look wrapped around a dagger.”

Solomon wrapped himself around him, not caring in the slightest if blood got on his cloak, “And if I do?”

“And what if you do?” Asmo challenged.

There was so much Solomon loved about him, and that fire in his eyes was one of the things he absolutely adored. Asmodeus was strong in more ways than one, and Solomon knew this to be true. All he could hope was that he helped Asmo flourish and grow.

“Isn’t that the question,” Solomon said leaning in, “But now all I wish is to hold your hand.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“But will you let me?”

Asmo met him halfway, letting his lips meet Solomon’s. His heart soared at the tiniest bit of contact with Asmo, and when they pulled apart, Solomon could feel his body begging for more. He could never get enough of Asmodeus, and he would never get enough of Asmodeus. How could he? He was beautiful and powerful all in his own right.

“So may I hold your hand?” Solomon asked again.

“You said you would attend to me in the bath as soon as we got back?” Asmo asked, leaning in close.

“That I did.”

“Then I suppose I could let you hold my hand. Perhaps I’ll even let you hold it the rest of the way back.”

“Oh my Asmodeus is too kind to me.”

And so they walked back to the palace, hand in hand. Solomon didn’t intend to let go any time soon. Asmodeus always had a grip on him. His hands held his heart so tenderly, and his very presence always had him in such a captivating grasp.

Asmodeus was wonderful, and Solomon considered himself lucky that he had the honor of holding the Arcadian prince’s hand. It was one he didn’t deserve, and yet Asmo blessed him every day.

#TaBoL #ruewrites #SolodeusWeek2021 #obeyme #obey me solomon #obey me asmodeus #solodeus #soloasmo #asmosolo #asmodeus x solomon #royalty!au #arranged marriage!au

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keijikunn · 4 years

Text

Memories ─ part i

── A @celestialarchiveshq collab “Connected by fate”

Pairing: Semi Eita x fem!reader Tags: college!au, kinda angst i guess, fluff, SLOW BURN, maybe strangers to lovers!au Summary: On the last day of the year, you dream of your soulmate’s most impactant memory that happened within the year. Each memory will be different each year. Word count: ~3.6k

Author’s note: I’m late and I’m so so sorry! I said I’d comeback by the end of January, but here we are in March lol. I can explain why I took so long in another post, if you want, but anyways. Here’s my piece from the soulmate!au collab from @celestialarchiveshq ! I decided to break it into pieces, because so far I have 9k words and you don’t deserve this. Anyways, hope you enjoy and stay tunned for the next part!

WARNINGS: insecurity, mention of injury (it’s a broken arm), self-esteem issues, let me know if I forgot anything

MEMORIES’ MASTERLIST

You didn’t know who your soulmate was, the little information you had about them was that you only knew they were a boy and had a huge passion for volleyball and music. But one thing that you knew for sure about him was that he desperately needed a hug. Not because he’s supposedly your partner for life, your one true love, your missing piece. No. Your soulmate mark taught you things are more than that, that there’s more colours than just black and white, more than just simple and exact definitions.

Being able to access his most important memory of the year through a dream was both a blessing and a curse. The first one is quite obvious, it meant your soulmate had overall a good year, no bad day overshadowed the good ones. However, when the second case occurred, it pained you to know that he went through a lot, and you couldn’t do anything.

It was hard to predict how much a couple of consecutive bad memories could have changed your soulmate. Knowing only an hour or so piece of the 8760 hours of the last year, let you little to no room to guess how he coped with it. You couldn’t help but think what did he do to deserve all the insecurities and self-doubt he’s been receiving. What happened to the sweet boy that still believed hard work was worthy?

2004 (age of 10)

Your soulmate was running towards his front door, ignoring his young sister’s whines to slow down, but he didn’t pay attention. He was eager to see what was the surprise his father told him before he left for school. What could it be? Your soulmate’s voice, a pitch higher due to his age, resonated inside his head.

“Mom, dad, I’m home!” He exclaimed, kicking out his shoes to quickly enter the living room; only to receive a stern look from his mother, pointing with her fingers his shoes, indicating he had to organize it. “Okay, I’m doing it.”

“Mom! Nii-chan didn’t wait for me when I asked!” His sister, Aime, complained, closing the door behind her.

The older woman scolded the young boy, who scratched the back of his neck, apologizing to his sister next. The feeling of excitement filled his body once again when his father, still wearing the shirt and pants from his suit, appeared in his vision, holding a large package.

“Welcome back, kids.” He grinned, placing the mysterious box on the floor to spread his arms so Aime could jump into his embrace. Your soulmate did not waste time to approach his father, who messed up with his hair. “Son, are you ready for your surprise?”

“It’s not fair that nii-chan’s getting a present! It’s not even his birthday.” Aime whined, both parents exchanged a brief smile, before the mother held onto her shoulders, guiding her to sit on the sofa next to her brother. He was almost jumping on his seat, bouncing his legs as if that motion would stop him from throwing himself at the box to open it.

“The reason why me and mama decided to gift nii-chan is because he listened very well to us,” the older man started to explain. “Do you remember what he asked us a few months ago, Aime?”

“I asked if I could get my own guitar!” Your soulmate piped in, almost bursting into happiness as he connected the dots.

“And we talked to you two about it, right?” Their mother continued, instigating her children to remember the topic of that conversation.

“Mama and papa said that if we dedicate ourselves to something we really want, they could get us what we asked.” The young girl replied obediently.

“Nii-chan has been dedicating himself to his guitar lessons, so we thought about rewarding his hard work.” Their dad finally announced what your soulmate had guessed all along, a smile spreading on his face. After receiving a light nod from them, the boy immediately put his hands on the wrap, tearing it apart to reveal a beautiful guitar. “We’re expecting extra hard work from now on, buddy.”

“I will!” He exclaimed, hugging both parents tightly, cheeks hurting from his large grin. “Thank you so much!!”

September, 2017 (current time, age of 23)

The memories were blurred in your mind, though all feelings and sensations burned in your heart whenever you remembered it. You always saw them in your soulmate’s perspective, being privileged enough to have a piece of his happiness - or cursed to feel the sadness that washed over in other years.

It was perhaps his fault that you got so hooked on music and learned how to truly appreciate it, you somehow felt connected with him, as if it was a language only you two knew. It didn’t really matter the genre of the music, you could listen to an indie band from your college or a worldwide superstar; your heart knew how to stay tuned to different frequencies, absorbing the perfect high notes to the bass riff that made your bones shake.

That was how you met this eccentric lead vocal and guitarist from a rock-ish band in your college department, a guy with ash blonde hair, narrowed eyes and a voice filled with unsaid emotions. Semi Eita appeared to be angry at anyone at any time of the day, quick to offer snarky replies with his sharp tongue. It could be just a persona he created as his band progressively became well-known around college, or could be just himself and his lack of interest in people in general.

You got to know him through your friend - and the band’s drummer - Akihiko, after one of their performances on a local live-house most college students go on a Friday night. Semi sat far from his bandmates, who were talking excitedly with each other and a couple of friends, with the same scowl you’ve seen in a picture Akihiko once showed you.

“Guys, this is my friend Y/n,” he introduced you as soon as you two entered the small backstage room reserved for the performers. “She’s really into music, so I decided to invite her to one of our presentations.”

“It’s nice to meet you all!” You exchanged greetings, while you noticed the lead vocal just rolled his eyes and busied himself with his phone. “I enjoyed it a lot today! I could feel every instrument resonating through my body. Please invite me for your next performance!”

Throughout the whole night you hang out with the band, Semi stayed quiet on his own, enjoying a bottle of beer too lost inside his head. His bandmates reassured you he was fine, the guy wasn’t a fan of gathering with friends or any sort of social contact - which was ironic to say the least, after all, he spends his free time entertaining people.

Despite the singer’s wish to avoid contact, many girls - and guys - approached him perhaps to initiate a small talk, or maybe to end up on a secluded corner of the live-house with their mouths on his. His quite mysterious façade was intriguing, you even admitted it to yourself, as a possible explanation to his “fame” around people, and maybe that was the reason he attracted many people.

You only got the chance to have a proper conversation with him on the next band rehearsal, which Aikihiko invited you per the other’s request. Inside the soundproof studio, you sat on a chair across Semi, who was too busy tuning his guitar to care about your gaze on him. He still sported the same scowl in his face, however, this time you could notice a hint of excitement - maybe even a silent love towards his instrument and what he was able to do with it.

“Are you done staring at me?” Semi asked angrily, lifting his head from the tuning keys he had just finished adjusting. “Why are you here? Aren’t you Akihiko’s hookup or something?”

“First of all, ew!” You exclaimed, face contorting in a grimace at the thought. “I know him too well to feel attracted! Besides, he permanently smells like cigarettes, it’s awful.”

“Just wait until he arrives, the studio will be infested by this shit.” He replied with a huff, rubbing his hand against his face. “For real, though, why are you here?”

“The other guys invited me to watch you practice,” you said, then leaning down to grab a notebook from your bag by your foot on the floor. “They think watching you play will help me with an activity I have to turn in before the winter break.”

“What is it?” Semi seemed interested, you noticed, putting his guitar on its support, crossing his left leg. Although you two were talking for a couple of minutes, you still felt a cold barrier between you two. It was quite noticeable as how the lead singer guided the conversation, questioning you and your reasons to be there.

“I attend the music course as an extracurricular activity, and I have to produce a song by the end of the semester.” The room fell in silence, but you could almost hear the gears in Semi’s head turning. “And I’m also here to convince you to sing for my project.”

“No.”

“Expected.” You laughed amused as Semi’s eyebrow twitched at your response. “Do you like barbecue? I can take you to an expensive restaurant as a payment.”

“You’re not gonna bribe me.” He stated, narrowing his eyes to send you sharp looks. In response, you smirked at his reaction. Just like Akihiko told me he would react.

“You’re right, I’m not gonna bribe you,” you mirrored his posture: left leg over the right one, arms crossed on the chest. But, contrary to him, you opened a smile, though your eyes screamed at the challenge in front of you. “I’m going to make you agree with me.”

October, 2017 (current time, age of 23)

A month has passed since your very first talk with Semi Eita, and although you didn’t make any progress regarding your project, you’re getting to know a bit more about the real Semi - not just the cold façace he shows. He is indeed quick with comebacks, hot tempered - especially when he’s talking about music, the boy stands still for his beliefs in what would be better for the band - but, Semi seems to have a huge wall separating his deepest sides from his friends. As if something holds him back from being true to his feelings.

“C’mon, Semi, we’re having a movie night,” Akihiko whined once again. “Stop watching this volleyball game and let me start choosing the movie!”

“He won’t budge Akihiko, it’s his friends playing.” The bassist, Takeshi, laughed at the rather unilateral discussion: the lead singer’s eyes were still trained on the screen, watching carefully every movement; while the drummer tried to snatch the remote control from the other’s grip. “You should know by now that he analyses carefully every Ushiwaka’s movements to scold him later.”

“I don’t do that!” Semi spoke up, diverting his gaze from the TV, proceeding to push Akihiko away from him. “Ushijima doesn’t need my comments. He never did, anyways.”

“So, the famous Semi Eita is also a sportist?” You teased him, nudging his left left leg with your foot, since you were half laying on the couch. “And has his phone number? Impressive.”

“Our lead singer had the honour to play on the same team as Ushijima Wakatoshi.” Akihiko threw his arm forcefully around the ash blond haired boy, earning a groan in protest. “And played against the Adlers’ setter, right? And you lost, right?”

“You don’t have to remember me, Akihiko-san, thank you very much.” He removed his bandmate over himself to look at you. “And I’m not a sportist.”

“How come not, Semi?” Takeshi retorted rhetorically, the smile on his face gave away his enjoyment in teasing him. “You had a sport scholarship in Shiratorizawa, you have to be at least great in volleyball!”

“Yeah…” Semi muttered lowly, lowering his gaze to the wooden floor of Akihiko’s apartment, clearly bothered by the turn the conversation took. “Choose the movie, I’ll make the popcorn.”

As he left the room, the other two guys exchanged looks, and you kind of deduced they went too far in this topic. To say you were curious about why him attending such a powerhouse school was delicate was an understatement, the urge to get up and follow him to the kitchen and shoot him questions was undeniable high - but you weren’t a senseless person.

Another part of Semi Eita’s personality presented itself to you, holding as many secrets as the façade he shows to everyone else does. You couldn’t help but think about how many experiences he went through to close himself like that, but more than that, you tried to imagine what kind of story Semi could tell through a song. That was the reason why you wanted so bad his participation in your project.

Semi Eita could tell a great story if he wanted to. And you would try your best to make it happen.

2008 (age of 14)

Your soulmate slowly dragged himself back home from school, body sore and longing for a long hot shower to relieve the stress of his muscles. Finals were taking a toll on him, especially when he was about to graduate middle school and needed to pave his way to good high schools. The sidewalk was slightly slippery due to the recent melted snow, droplets of water occasionally hitting his uniform’s pants near his ankles.

Soon enough, he found himself opening the front door, being welcomed by a warmer environment. The young boy removed his shoes and heavy coat, greeting tiredly his mother and sister, who were both in the kitchen making dinner. Your soulmate headed to his bedroom ready to throw himself on his bed, wishing the mattress could swallow him. However, as soon as he turned the lights on, a white envelope with a familiar purple logo on the table caught his attention.

His hands worked quickly in tearing the material apart, removing a single sheet from the inside. The euphoria already dominated his senses, eyes barely proceeding to read the name of the institution at the top of the paper - but he knew which one was. His eyes scanned the words, eagerly searching for what he was wishing to himself for the past few weeks.

“Mom!” He screamed at the top of his lungs, running out of his room to find her. “I made it! With a sports scholarship!”

“Oh my gosh, congratulations!” The woman cheered, drying her hands on her apron to involve her son in a tight embrace. His cheeks hurt from how wide he was smiling, but the bursting sensation of pride in his chest made up for that.

I am good at something, after all. I made it to a huge school through my volleyball abilities.

I’m not replaceable.

Mid October, 2017 (current time, age of 23)

“What the heck happened to you?” The words left your mouth before you could even think after you entered the usual studio the band usually rehearses. Akihiko was seated behind his set of drums, scrolling aimlessly through his phone; and Takeshi finished setting up his bass on the amplifiers. But what surprised you the most was the cast on Semi’s left arm, holding it in a position he couldn’t stretch it.

“Hi, Y/n,” Semi waved cynically with his right hand, “I am fine, thank you for worrying about my well being.”

“We need your help.” Both Akihiko and Takeshi said.

“Why do I feel it’s related to the fact Semi broke his arm?” You questioned, glaring at the lead vocal suspiciously.

“The band has a presentation in a week and Semi can’t play the guitar for obvious reasons,” the bassist started approaching you, offering you a bright yellow pick - which you accepted, still not sure about the end of the conversation. “We’re lacking a guitarist, but Akihiko said you’re pretty good, right?”

“Uh… maybe?”

“What Takeshi is trying to say is,” Semi cut his bandmate, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. “We need you to play the guitar as support for our next concert.”

It was unexpected, you thought with yourself, by the little you knew about Semi and his relation to music, you imagined he would ask any close friend of his that he trusted. Perhaps Akihiko mentioned you know how to play, he could have even shown him a few recordings you did in the college studio. Either way, hearing Semi inviting you was a surprise.

“Sure, I guess?” Your answer sounded more like a question, evidencing your state of confusion and unsureness. “Wouldn’t you guys want someone else, though?”

“No.” The ash blonde hair boy answered without hesitation, once again surprising you. “You’ll do it just fine.”

You quickly exchanged looks with Akihiko, in hopes to discover that it was a huge prank or even a childish comeback from Semi regarding your stubbornness of having his vocals on your project. However, the drummer nodded his head; his facial expression didn’t give any sign of mischievousness like it usually does.

Semi stopped in front of you, handing you his own guitar. The instrument felt foreigner in your grasp, as if a simple guitar held secrets and hidden feelings of its owner - and it might do. You felt oddly connected to the guy in front of you, the same one who denied every invite of yours to sing for a couple of minutes for an extracurricular project.

As your fingers strummed the strings, you noticed how perfectly tuned the guitar was and you were quickly to mentally facepalm yourself. It’s obvious Semi Eita would take such a good care of his guitar, the boy loved music after all. After adjusting the strap over your shoulder to fit your much smaller stature than the owner’s, you played a couple of chords to make the final adjustments on the amplifiers.

“So, tell me the setlist I need to work on.” The three men smiled gratefully at you - though Semi’s looked more like a grimace, but you understood. They proceeded to fill you up with plenty of songs and minor details you should be aware of about their style, rearragended chords.

The hours flew by while you were in the studio with the band, the four of you fell in a good synchronization - if an outsider saw the rehearsal, they would never guess you weren’t the main guitarist. Playing with them felt familiar, all your frequencies merged into one smoothly, even easily. You adapted yourself to Akihiko’s excitement and Takeshi’s quirks during his solos, but the easiest one to work with was Semi.

His style of singing fitted perfectly with your own strumming habits, even the occasional exchange of looks was easily understood between you two. He seems to be too arrogant on stage, pretending as if he was the best amaetur performer in college - but in a sense, Semi could think like this. The way he easily went with the flow with a new element in the studio, someone he has never seen playing before.

“Great job, guys!” Akihiko exclaimed, clapping his hands a couple of times. You put the yellow pick on the top of the amplifier and cracked your knuckles, feeling your fingers a little stiff from the almost two hours rehearsal. And you did well, Y/n, you even remembered all the chords!”

“Akihiko!” Your whine made both the drummer and the bassist laugh. “I can remember things, okay?”

“Then tell me why can’t you remember your soulmate’s memories?” He wiggled his eyebrows, daring you to answer him. When you didn’t reply, he snorted. “You can’t even defend yourself on that! Anyway, we rented the studio for another hour, but I have some business to solve at home. Feel free to stay until the end, okay? Thank you for the practice!”

“Thank you.” You smiled, sending off the drummer. While you quietly went through the songs you weren’t familiar in the setlist, Takeshi bid farewell to you and Semi - leaving you two alone. “If you wanna leave, just let me know and I’ll stop, okay?”

“You are good,” Semi complimented you, not answering your statement. “Akihiko-san wasn’t lying after all, you are indeed good.”

“Why do you sound so surprised?” The studio was filled with rhythmical strums, following your favourite song of the list while you quietly hummed the lyrics. “I suppose Akihiko showed you a few things I did for the course.”

“Actually, he didn’t,” His response caught you off guard, your right hand stopping its motion in the middle of the song’s bridge. “And I suggested your name as support. I kind of wanted to see what’s up with you and music.”

“And what do you think, Semi?”

“Why do you want me to sing your song for the project?” He asked, ignoring your question completely. You arch your eyebrows in surprise, earning the same gesture - as if he was inciting you to answer him.

“I strongly believe that music has an unique power to deliver messages. It could be the lyrics, the instrumental or just the performance… everything has a meaning.” You stated, adjusting the guitar in your lap properly; eyes fixed on the man in front of you. “From my point of view, after watching you perform and how you interact with music, I imagined you have some deep feelings buried inside of you that could be delivered through a song. Somebody could relate to you and feel grateful for you expressing something they might couldn’t.”

“I’ll do it.” Semi said after a few seconds in silence, surprising you. When you looked at his face, a small smile adorned his features. You mirrored his expression, though yours were much larger in order to convey your happiness.

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blissfulalchemist · 4 years

Text

“Your task is not to seek love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.”

- Rumi

Thank you to the wonderful and oh so talented @minilev for bringing to life the first face to face meeting of my girl Catlina and @risenlucifer’s Rafael. It came out perfect and I could not be happier! Thank you Kate for creating your boy and helping in creating this piece! 💜 Below the cut is the scene itself from their shared universe.

There was only one location in Hope County that became true neutral ground, and managed to stay that way even after the reaping began. The signs that stood outside the doors were the only indication of where the initial funding came from but nothing else that leant itself to associating itself with Eden’s Gate, just how Catlina wanted it from the start. Her outreach center was created to help all residents of Hope County have their needs met, not recruitment as some assumed. In recent weeks becoming a safe haven for those that didn’t ask to be caught in the crossfire of the holy war. Though Catlina was finding it harder to offer up something as someone kept stealing the wrong trucks. Didn’t matter how many times she tried to make them as distinct as possible from the other ones the deputy was allowed to take from Eden’s Gate he still managed to find a way to hit her trucks now and again.

Cat was lucky that the truck that brought about her special order had survived, all the items planned to be a gift for the fabled friend of Deputy Wes. It's not that she wanted to be a creep, but sometimes it was hard to not overhear the conversations he and John would have as she waited for him to leave or at least make her presence known. It was nice to just hear someone else’s voice in the house that didn’t seem to spout the same notions as everyone else, so she’d prolong the amount of time they had together. It was during one of the times she’d opted to sneak back into the house that she heard the passing comment and joke about his friend’s complaints of not being able to make any sort of decent meal with the food that was offered in the Whitetails.

No surprise to her as that was the place hardest to get any kind of supplies, seeing as Jacob took most of it. Her heart went out to Wes’ friend and she had the means, so she compiled what she could based on the conversation Wes and her husband had, leaving it on the doorstep of the deputy a note attached specifying its intended recipient. That was over a week ago and she hadn’t heard anything about it or related to it. She hadn’t put a name with the note, maybe that was the problem, just the location of the outreach center in case they wanted more and Cat held hope that she’d get to meet them, maybe make the first real connection with someone on the other side of this war.

Each swinging of the door had her looking up, heart racing only to be met with disappointment when it was someone she recognized. “You know you don’t even know what he looks like right,” Lance teased, smirking as he leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

“Well do you know what he looks like?” She asked, waving to one of the locals that came by weekly, “Because maybe then you can give me a hint or a name?”

“Firstly, Wes could have had a change of friends since I last remembered,” he pushed himself off looking out the window at the cars driving by, “Secondly, if it is still the same guy he was a bit scrawny still last I saw of him.”

She rolled her eyes, “Did you just become a hermit or something at some point? Cause you said the same about the deputy,” Cat moved back behind the counter leaning her elbows against it, “and we both know how he turned out.”

Lance gave a small laugh looking back at Cat, “You starting to feel jealous?”

Cat narrowed her eyes, “No,” she let out a sigh, ”I just want friends. Or some way to not feel so lonely.” She looked at Lance’s hazel eyes, “Not that you’re not my friend it’s just-.”

“I know. Want people your own age,” Lance’s eyes moved to the person walking through the door, locking onto the holstered handgun, “I was a young man once too.”

Catlina’s eyes followed the patron around the store too until their items were brought up to the counter. She helped him get settled, taking the little money he had to offer before watching him make his way out of the building, leaving her and Lance alone.

“How late are you wanting to stay today?” Lance asked, stretching out his arms, “I don’t think we have to worry about interrupting anything back at the ranch.” He took his seat in the front corner of the store, hands picking up the latest in his engine projects John had given him, “Besides you have to go to the service in the morning, can’t be up too late.”

She gave a small eye roll, “I just want to make sure I don’t miss him. Maybe he can only come later in the day.” Or maybe he never planned on showing.

“So a bit after sundown again?”

She nodded, making herself busy with the smaller inventory behind the counter, “I might have to give up after this week though.” She tapped the pen on the table, “I shouldn’t be holding out too much hope. Not like many people trust me nowadays.” She looked up to the sound of a car pulling up to the building, shoulders sagging letting out a breath, It probably wasn’t him. I really need to stop hoping at this point, “Well outside Eden’s Gate at least.”

She rested her forehead against the counter, the sound of the bell announcing the person that just pulled up, their footsteps filling the space of the small shop. Cat didn’t look up as she traced his movement in the building from the sound of his shoes against the old wood alone. There were a few pauses as he seemed to look around, Cat moving to lay her head against her arm, writing out the list of what may be needed soon.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” the shopper called out in a voice clear and deep, “there are no prices on anything.”

Cat lifted her head, giving a smile glancing his way, “Its because this is a pay what you can center. It can range from zero to full price.” She turned to face him head on, eyes locking with his, her heart stopping a moment before starting to race. He was new and she couldn’t look away from his brown eyes, warm, inviting, and a bit playful. His dark curls falling perfectly framing his face, accented by a neatly kept beard. His clothing, while simple, appeared to be of higher quality than other residents of the county. The dark blue cardigan over his burgundy shirt, and silver necklaces catching in the light, bright, though not enough to outshine his smile. His smile, how assuring it made her feel. All of him….perfect.

Well that’s just unfair, she thought as her mouth went dry, trying to gain some semblance of composure. Cat cleared her throat, smoothing out her dress hiding the reddening of her cheeks as he walked closer. “Just like that? I could take whatever I wanted,” he asked, Cat nodding in response, “However much I wanted?”

She started to nod again, stopping, “Erm, well within reason. Wouldn’t be really fair if you took all of a supply that was needed by everyone, you know?”

He gave a small nod, “So you run this place based on trust and merit,” he leaned on the counter, Cat taking a step back, “Seems a little bold in a place like this.” She gave a shrug, “Looks like you’re running a bit low though,” he gestured to the store around him.

“I know,” she let out a sigh, “My trucks have been getting snatched up.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Oh?”

“I mean, yes it's bad for me and the center but I can’t blame him for taking them,” she stammered out, “He’s been giving them to those that need the supplies, so in the end it’s serving their purposes. I just wish he’d have thought to ask or target the other trucks.”

“The deputy?” Cat nodded in response, “He’s been taking your trucks?”

“Yeah,” she waved, “but it doesn’t matter if the supplies are serving those that need them.”

“But if he asked, you’d just give them to him,” Cat found herself locked in his gaze once more, They feel so much like his eyes. How’s possible?, “Why do that?”

Cat looked down stuffing the memories back into their box, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear, “It’s the right thing to do. There’s a lot of people willing to fight and defend their homes, but what about the people that didn’t ask to be a part of any of this?” She met his eyes, “I know it's hard to believe but there are people on both sides that just wanted to live in peace. Some just want to worship a faith without the violence and not to mention the locals that never sold their homes but couldn’t afford the means to leave. A sort of stubborn pride in its own right.” Cat looked around the center, smiling, “This place is for them. It's for anyone really, I fight hard to keep this place a sanctuary for anyone that needs it, no matter where they come from.” She met his eyes rolling her shoulders back, nothing that his posture had never changed, “Everyone is worth saving and helping when in need.”

His face unreadable he studied her, standing straighter, “Guess what they say about you and this place is true,” Cat tilted her head, brow furrowing, “The signs though,” he jerked a thumb to the front of the building, “well that kind of makes it hard to believe.”

Her shoulders sagged, “I know,” rolling her eyes letting out a breath, “It was either those or some audio played on the speakers. I’m contractually obligated to have one or the other.” He laughed, startling her before she felt herself loosen up, laughing along with him, “You think I’m kidding?”

“Yeah I do a bit,” she smirked, pulling out the copy of her outreach center contract with John, dropping it in front of him. His laughter stopping, the smile remaining as he looked it over, “Never mind, guess I was wrong,” he flipped through the pages, “Even got it notarized I see.”

“Mhm,” he passed the papers back to her, “I had to make it as official as possible. If I’ve learned anything it's that the best way to beat a lawyer is using their own tricks against them.”

“Clever,” he gave a light bang of his hand against the wood of the counter, “So tell me, what would one owe for these items,” he pulled out a slip of paper, “They got left with a friend of mine and I want to make sure I’m not in debt.”

Cat’s eyes went wide as she looked over the list, each item one that she left on Deputy Wes’ doorstep. It’s him. It’s really him. He came by and I….feel unprepared. Her hands started to shake, trying to refocus her brain on what was happening. “Oh right uhm, noth-nothing,” her words tumbled out, “Nothing. First one is uhm, first one’s free.”

“What if I want to give a little something for it,” he had his wallet out, “It is a pay what you can center as you said.”

“I- I uh, I did. I said that,” she cleared her throat, “Besides the point. I think I heard mention that it was a gift and you don’t pay for gifts, that’s just rude.”

“Then a donation?” He placed a few bills in her hands, Cat pushing them back over into his, electricity coursing through her with each touch, shaking her head. He was so easy to talk to, why does this feel so normal and so scary? Am I dreaming it? Probably. “We’re not getting anywhere with this are we,” he laughed, Did he just have to be so charming? He has to be this way with everyone.

“No. It’s because I insist,” she took a deep breath, “It was a gift. You don’t owe me anything.” Cat snapped her jaw closed, wincing at revealing herself to be the gift giver.

He stopped, “So it was you? You’re the one that gave me the basket.” Cat’s cheeks burned, nodding slowly, “You didn’t leave a name on the note. Why is that?”

“I-,” Cat stopped, she didn’t really have much of an answer, “Names are complicated and besides I didn’t need to be thanked for doing something nice.”

“Well I’m going to thank you,” he held his hand out to her, Cat taking it gingerly, “You made my meals feel decent for once.”

“Oh did you use everything already,” her hand shaking his still, “I can get some more on the list for you, for next time you come around.”

He shook his head, “No I’m okay for now. I will, however, keep you in mind when I want to indulge.” He let go of her hand humming in thought, “You don’t get a lot of people from the Whitetails do you?”

She shook her head, “No, that seems to be the hardest place to make a dent in anything getting up there. And if I’m being honest I think people are scared to leave their homes.”

“I tend to do a bit of work up there, maybe I can help and be a sort of liaison. If you’d like,” her heart fluttered at the idea of seeing him more and talking to him and working with him. Just the idea of him.

“I assume you and the militia up there will help in distribution,” he gave a curt nod, Cat looking at Lance who just gave a shrug in return, “Only if you promise that it just be you guys giving it out, that it’s done fairly, and maybe put the word out to some of the locals that this really is a place they won’t be harmed.” She took a breath, her rambling stopping before she could make it worse.

“Sounds like we’re making a tentative partnership,” he smirked, some curls falling out of place, “Should I get the local public notary?”

Cat laughed, shaking her head as she looked down to the old wood, “No. I think we can settle this on our own….for now at least.” She stood straighter, holding her hand out to him, “So what do you say mister….?”

“Rafael,” he clasped his hand around hers, “or Raf as some people call me.”

“Raf,” she repeated, “Unique name nowadays.”

He nodded, giving her a pointed look, “And what shall I call you, Mrs. Seed?”

Catlina’s face turned in disgust, “Anything but that really.”

“Well I can certainly call you Mary if you like,” he smirked, “though something tells me you don’t like that name either.”

“It’s not the worst name out there,” she mumbled picking at the wood, “It’s just-.” How does he feel so easy to talk to?, she thought looking over at Lance. He gave a slight shake of his head, “You know why don’t I let you just decide what to call me.” Cat gave Lance a small shrug, “I don’t think you’ll give me something I’ll hate to be called,” Raf’s dark eyes regarded her, “Just don’t use my height as a nickname please if you decide to go a nickname route. That’s my only rule.”

Raf chuckled, “Might need a little time to come up with that. For now, why don’t I just call you,” she braced herself at his pause regretting his offer to just call her Mary, “conejito.”

Cat blinked back in surprise, “Conejito,” she repeated the word sounding familiar. The recollections she could muster never put the word in a bad light, many in her family always calling others by that name with affection, even though she never really bothered to ever ask what it meant. And she wasn’t going to start now. It sounded sweet and the flutter in her chest brought about the feeling of normal she’d been missing, or the flutter came from the way the evening sun hit his eyes just so, paired with the smile he gave. “It’s acceptable for a temporary name Rafael,” Catlina returned his smile, cheeks burning. Her heart thumped in her chest only managing to focus on his eyes, she looked away clearing her throat, “So, uhm, when will I see you again to discuss more details of our partnership?”

“Few days,” his eyes glanced outside the window, “I have to talk to some people up there, see what they need and want from this partnership.”

“Oh,” Cat’s heart fell, “I mean, well that makes sense. I should uhm, well I should prepare and look into what I can offer, so we can get to a middle ground,” she stammered, stopping herself as she twisted the tips of her fingers.

“That sounds like a good plan. How late are you normally open?”

“I’m pretty flexible,” she said, Lance giving a snort, “Well uhm, I mean whenever you need me I can be there however you need me,” Cat shut her eyes letting out a breath, Raf laughing softly, “Well you get what I mean.”

“I do, Conejito, I do,” Raf shook his head, running a hand through his hair, “I’ll try to come later in the day, but I’ll try to give you a bit of a warning.”

“Yeah, yeah. That works,” Cat bounced on her toes, “I’m sure you have to be uh going I assume. Do you need a ride? Cause we can give you one?”

He pointed to the car still parked outside the building, “I brought my own ride,” Cat gave a slow nod, “Thank you for the offer though.” Raf took a few steps back, raising his hand, waving, “I’ll see you in a few days, Conejito.”

Cat waved back, “See you.” She watched as he made his way out of the building and into the car, looking back inside of the building once it was out of sight.

Cat groaned, lying her head against the counter, “Not as scrawny anymore,” Lance said standing from his chair, “Guess you were right.”

Cat looked up, narrowing her eyes, “That your way of telling me I told you so?”

Lance smiled, “No,” he chuckled before his face grew serious, “You should be careful though.”

“What do you mean?” Cat asked, raising a brow.

“He’s not just the deputy’s friend,” Lance moved locking up the windows, “He’s pretty well known in the mountains, call him the Saint.” Cat stood straighter, crossing her arms as she looked at the ground, “He’s got a target on his back, pretty big one if I’m not mistaken. Might be a little dangerous to work too close to him.”

“I have the sway to keep this place and my work in the middle, not on either side.”

Lance hummed, “Hm, I just wouldn’t count on that staying for very long. Just in case.” He turned to her, holding his hand out for the keys as Cat tossed them his way, “Don’t want to see you get hurt, is all.”

“I won’t be. I got you here,” Cat moved to stand next to him, bumping his arm, “and he seems trustworthy enough.” Lance put an arm around her, “Who knows this might be the best thing for us. We could do more good around here, get this whole war ended sooner.”

“Get you out sooner,” Lance whispered, “I’ll look into him more see where he stands on things. Just to be on the safe side.” He rubbed her arm, patting it as he moved to lock the front door, “Let’s get back to the ranch shall we?”

Cat nodded, grabbing her sweater, “Yeah, let’s go. I have to distract myself anyway.”

“Not gonna be able to get his eyes out of your mind for awhile are ya?” Lance laughed, leading them to the car, Cat giving him a shove, “Hey you were the one that was kind of obvious in your drooling over him.”

Cat rolled her eyes, “You were real popular with Sage when she was in high school, weren’t you?” Lance laughed in response as the two pulled out onto the road to drive them back. He was right, and that didn’t make it any less appealing to Cat to want to get to know Raf and hopefully become close to him. No matter how their relationship played out, part of her just knew she wanted him in her life and that nothing was going to be the same now.

#x: top chefs #commissions and gifts #captain xwing #brains and disaster #I just absolutly love them so much!!!! like it's just so perfect!!!!#and yes we be knowin that counter has a little step for her to see over it #I just love it so much oh my god!!!#So happy to share it with you all after all this time!!!!

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gendercraft · 3 years

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Outlast: Revisited [Chapter Two: Waylon]

Read on ao3

Synopsis: I’m rewriting Outlast where the first game and Whistleblower are combined, Miles and Waylon are more connected, and also they kiss

Trigger warnings: Sexual assault plus everything already in the game

Subtlety was never Waylon’s strong suit.

He was good at getting himself into trouble—irreparable trouble that couldn’t be damage-controlled. He had thought he was being smart for once, that the onion router and firewall patch would be enough for him to finish up his last shift and leave the state with Lisa and the boys before being caught.

He didn’t mean to leave them.

The restraints were way too tight, and the men were only pulling them tighter. Waylon was drugged all to hell; his head was fogged and heavy, his eyes pulling closed, his entire body numb and achy.

“Open your eyes,” one of his past higher-ups purred. He was an ugly man with pronounced features, dressed in plastic, named Andrew. He’d always been condescending, a little too touchy. “You don’t have to wake up, but open your eyes.”

Waylon moaned in protest, his head dropping.

Sharp pain exploded on his cheek. He groaned and lifted his head, his eyes snapping open.

“Oh, what’s the matter?” Andrew pouted. “Somebody hit you? Here, let me help.”

His tongue scraped along where Waylon was hit, slimy and heavy and warm. It soothed the pain but made Waylon’s skin crawl as Andrew’s hand fit between his legs.

“Andrew, are you getting these alerts?”

He scowled. “Kinda busy here.”

“It sounds like real trouble.” The man’s voice barely penetrated Waylon’s drugged brain. “At the engine. They said Hope made a lateral ascension.”

That was enough to get Waylon fighting against the hold. The Walrider escaped. We’re all going to die. He blinked his eyes open, stretching them and staring at the bright light.

“Billy Hope?” Andrew straightened up, his hand disappearing. “Shit. And they’re not happy about it?”

“No,” the man said dryly.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Come on.”

He left, leaving Waylon to watch the screen. The images burned into his eyeballs, dragging him further and further down into his pounding head. The pressure increased, grew tighter, bigger, pushing against his skull, his head was going to explode, he opened his mouth to scream— His restraints popped.

He stumbled out of the chair and fell to his knees. Screams sounded behind him. Footsteps, sprinting. More yells. Something splattering. He glanced around through the glass walls to his fellow ‘volunteers—’ they all gripped their heads and struggled to their feet.

“You hear that, don’t you?” The one to his right asked blearily. “Do you hear it? Oh— AH! FUCK!”

Waylon’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head as the Walrider, black and smoky and nearly translucent, slipped into the cell and grabbed the man by his ankles. The Walrider yanked him into the air and through the vent. He was gone.

Fuck. Fuck. Waylon’s abdomen burned, his chest constricted, his heart raced. He was going to die in this cell. He was never going to see his family again, he was never going to see anything again, he was about to disappear—

The Morphogenic images flashed across his face and he fell over as his ears rang. They resembled rorschach images, beige and moving, flowing in and out of each other. He staggered, struggled back to his feet. A camcorder sat on a tripod, meant to record his reactions to the Morphogenic program. He snatched it and held it up.

Squeezing his eyes shut, panic welled in his chest, burned behind his eyes.

I fucked up. Hours could have passed, or weeks. He reached a hand up—his head was shaved like all the other prisoners, but he couldn’t remember when they did it, nor when they dressed him in the beige jumpsuit. He was reduced to 2536. Have to call for help. Lisa, I’m sorry.

If I die, I know you’ll find me. I hope you find this camera with my body. I hope the evidence on it does what I couldn’t, exposes the truth.

I thought I was doing the right thing. But I fucked up bad.

“You think you’re safe in there… wall flower… pretty flower…” A voice rasped in the darkness, growing closer. “...fucking… I’ll open you up… open you up and show you… make you purr… you wait right there.”

Waylon looked around frantically. The darkness choked him. He raised the camcorder and flicked on the nightvision, and a man appeared in the darkness—another patient. He strolled towards the control panel, glinting eyes on Waylon, mumbling to himself.

Waylon’s gut clenched. Andrew’s hand between his legs was back, and he couldn’t breathe. The minute the door opened he sprinted, out of his body and watching himself dash down the hall as the patient stared after.

He slammed the door shut behind him and skidded to a stop in the hall. Through the plastic of an examination room, three patients stood on an observation table, kicking and choking and beating the shit out of a security guard. Waylon recognized where they were now—the underground lab.

“You!” One of them pointed at him. “No observers. Come in.”

He swallowed. They were all staring at him now—five of them, actually. They shifted in anticipation, one with their arms crossed and back straight, one of them rubbing their hands together.

Waylon shook his head and ducked forward, intending to hurry down the hall and find his way out when his ears started ringing. The Walrider loomed over him, claws curled, staring Waylon down. It didn’t have a face. Waylon would give anything for it to have a face, to know what it intended.

Waylon stumbled back. It raced forward, flying towards him, arms out. Waylon whipped around and vaulted over a crate. The plastic blurred past as he skidded around the corner, the Walrider roaring behind him, right behind him, its breath was on his ear. He slammed the door.

Outside, footsteps raced past, someone yelling, “THE WALRIDER!” Their screams carried down the hall.

His vision was blurry. Sweat dripped into his burning eyes.

“Here.” One of the patients brandished a knife at him.

The guard was dead now, laying limp on the table. He was pale, his arm hanging off the edge, fingertips cracked and red. Blood oozed out of the wounds on his chest, dripped down his sides and onto the metal slab. The dim light in the room coloured him yellow. Waylon covered his mouth and looked away.

“Take the blade,” the patient demanded. “Dig around in our friend here, get a little red on your hands.” He grinned. “It’s always healthy to express yourself.” The body gushed as he slammed the knife into its chest. “You keep it bottled in too long and you might do something you regret.” Squish, squish, squish. Waylon was going to throw up.

He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.

“No? You’re one of those? Too good for the likes of us?” His voice rose the more he spoke. “Think you’re different. Something special. There are no observers here!”

Waylon stumbled back. The patient slammed the knife into the corpse over and over again, squishsquishsquishsquish, and everyone else just stared, just watched him mutilate the body.

“Now. Get the fuck out of here before I change my mind!”

He hurried through the other door, out into the hall, away from the Walrider. It was cluttered, shelves and boxes tipped over and clogging the path. A patient sat in a chair, head in his hands. As Waylon passed, the patient leapt to his feet and pushed Waylon by the chest.

“The fuck are you trying to go?” He demanded.

Waylon held the camcorder against himself, heart beating so hard it hurt. “Don’t fucking touch me, man!”

He stumbled back and the man followed.

“Come back here!”

The man balled his hand into a fist and whammed it into the side of Waylon’s face. Waylon gasped and raised his hands. One leg flailed out in a shitty imitation of a kick, and the patient just laughed, so Waylon ducked the next blow and shoved forward. Another hit to the back of his neck, and it throbbed as he sprinted away.

He could not fight these patients. He was weak from the drugs, from the malnourishment, from the torture. From whatever else they could’ve done to him while he was out of it—what Andrew could have done to him. If he wasn’t fast enough, he would die.

He slammed through a wooden door into a room and passed another patient hitting at— hitting at something, and ran until he found an air vent he could jump into. He grunted as his weak muscles strained, trembled, screamed at him while he struggled into the vent. He flopped onto the metal and dragged himself the rest of the way in. Just as his feet crossed the barrier, someone rushed in the room, screaming something Waylon couldn’t make out. He held his breath and stayed deadly still. They poked around, looking under shelves and in cabinets, mumbling to themself. Waylon pressed his forehead to the metal, his face crumpled. They left.

He dragged himself further into the vent. He was covered in a thin sheen of cold sweat, his hands shaking horribly. He raised the camcorder and flicked on the nightvision. Voices carried up into the vent.

“...bad idea. We get out of here through reception and let Murk Tactical clean it up.”

Stopping at a grate, Waylon turned off the night vision and zoomed into the lit hall below. Two security guards stood, looking around with paranoia as they talked quietly.

“If they get here in time,” one of them insisted, eyes wide. A smattering of blood covered his face. Waylon couldn’t help but wonder who it came from. “We need help now! If we get them on the radio, the National Guard could be here within-”

“We don’t even know if the radio works,” the other one snapped.

“It’s short wave! If the prison’s got electricity they’ve got signal. And the lights are on.”

“Murkoff has it under control.” He glared.

“Yeah, I noticed,” Bloody-Face said sarcastically. “We need to get to that radio.”

“Outside help doesn’t come without outside attention,” he whispered harshly. “You want to take responsibility for every legally shaky thing you did on the Murkoff company payroll? I know I don’t.”

Bloody-Face started to walk away. “It’s too late to worry about that. This just has to stop.”

He grabbed Bloody-Face’s arm. “You’re scared. You’re not thinking straight. Let me make something clear.” He lowered his voice and got in his face, eye-to-eye. “You try to radio outside for help, I’m gonna give you a whole new something to be scared of.”

Bloody-Face’s eyes widened. “Are you threatening me?”

“Yes.”

Waylon lowered the camcorder as they hurried away. He panted, his breathing slowly calming down, his heart rate slowing.

There’s hope, Lisa. I’m coming home to you. I can’t die. Not before I reach that radio. They can’t cover this up now.

He would have to cross a good bit of the asylum to get to the prison. He couldn’t fight. He could barely run. He had no idea if he would survive.

But he had to try.

He dragged himself over to the edge of the vent with shaking hands, and prepared himself to jump.

reblog if you enjoyed <3

#outlast #outlast whistleblower #waylon park #camerashipping #outlast revisited

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tact-and-impulse · 4 years

Text

Shinkane Week 2021 Day 1

For this prompt of ‘roommates’, it’s a sequel to Propriety! Let’s see where Miss Tsunemori and her faithful former chauffeur have ended up, now that they’re on the run…

Runaways

“I’m so sorry, but we only have one room available.”

He clenched his jaw. Gino would have his hide if he found out, but it seemed there was no other choice. “We’ll take it.”

Beside him, Miss Tsunemori was feigning interest in the worn floorboards. The innkeeper handed over the key and directed them to the room. It was terribly cramped, with only one futon. Extra blankets would be brought for the other to make do.

As soon as the innkeeper left, he insisted. “You can take the bed. I’m used to sleeping on the floor.”

“But you must be tired too. You drove the entire time.”

He did, because it was the middle of the night and she didn’t know the roads. He wasn’t even entirely confident they were safe yet. He had driven until the fuel ran out, and then decided to ditch their vehicle on the side of the road. It had been a harrowing twenty-four hours, and her entire life had been pulled out from underneath her. “Don’t worry about it. Besides, I’m the servant.”

“Not anymore.”

That was true and he abruptly turned away. “Get some sleep. We’ll think better if we sleep.”

His blankets were then delivered, and afterwards, neither of them spoke. As he attempted to find a comfortable position, he couldn’t help hearing her light breathing and knew she was just as restless.

***

“I’d like to see the ocean.” She had said, when he asked for a destination.

So, here they were, in a harbor town. They had watched the sun rise over the glittering water, and Miss Tsunemori had darted to the shoreline. He followed her prints, hiding them under his, and joined her at the breaking surf. She was standing just shy of the approaching foam.

“See any monsters?”

“Kougami-san!” She admonished but laughed. She could laugh when they were alone, without worry that someone would overhear and realize that it wasn’t two young men staying in the last room. “No, I haven’t.” She bent down, untying her shoes and removing her socks. After placing them on higher ground, she dipped her toes in. Just as she did, she made a startled sound and retreated.

He took her arm, steadying her. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I didn’t expect it would still be cold.” She pressed her feet into the darkened sand. “I suppose that makes sense, it’s early.”

Letting go, he copied her, tossing his boots closer to her belongings. He stepped into a wave, the ocean surging around his ankles. “It’s actually not bad. Once you’re in it, you’ll warm up.”

She splashed towards him. “If you say so…”

For a few minutes, they didn’t move. He crossed his arms, breathing deeply of the salty air. “So…where to?”

“I’m not sure.” A frown had settled upon her face. The reality was kicking in, that there was no plan other than running as fast and far as they could.

“We need to decide. Every minute we stall, we risk getting caught.”

“You’d be arrested for kidnapping me.” She had already reached that conclusion, and despite that bleak possibility, he felt a twinge of pride. “And I don’t want that to happen.”

“Maybe, you’d see me again when I’d leave jail in twelve years.”

“Please don’t joke about something like that.”

He glanced at her forlorn expression, her downturned lips. “Sorry.”

A breeze swept through, and she held on to her hat. “If I can keep up this disguise, I wonder if I can study law.” She mused.

“Maybe.” He conceded. His skin itching with the need to move, he walked away from the ocean and grabbed his boots. She followed suit, and they slowly crossed the beach.

“Kougami-san?”

“Yes?”

“How do we get rid of the sand?”

***

Her question also brought up the issue of hygiene, so they concocted an excuse that “Akio” had a skin condition and couldn’t go to the public bathhouses, unlike “Satoru”. The story bought them a large basin of water and coarse soap. Miss Tsunemori was eager to use them, and to secure her privacy in this small room, he made a suggestion in case the innkeeper knocked.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, go ahead. Don’t worry, I won’t peek.” He held up the sheet, turning his head to the side. “Let me know when you’re done.”

“Alright, thank you.” There was rustling, as she removed her clothes. He tried to ignore the soft sounds and the liquid sloshing as she dipped below the surface.

He clenched the cotton, searching for a topic of conversation. “We can keep to the coastline, and there’s the option of leaving Japan.”

“I’m not sure if I want to, or even if you do.”

“Why not? There’s jungle out there, hidden temples.”

“Hmm. But you wanted to go to the mountains.” So, she remembered.

“Yeah. I had a teacher once, who said he wanted to live in the shadow of Mount Fuji. To us kids who only knew the rowhouses, his idea of a peaceful life was something we couldn’t really imagine.”

He could hear her smile in her reply. “But you liked it.”

That phrase, accompanied with the fact that she was naked in a tub just below him, caused him to waver. He renewed his grip on the sheet, his reply harsher than intended. “Well, runaways never have peace. Do you want to go home?”

Long moments passed, before she quietly replied. “I think we’re past that point.”

It wasn’t a denial. Before he could say as much, she announced that she was finished. He lifted the cover higher, while she dressed. It didn’t take long before she popped up on the other side, her face flushed.

“Thank you so much.” Her smaller fingers reached up, pulling the cloth barrier down. This close, he could smell the soap, and underneath, the lingering traces of sweet citrus that hadn’t been entirely removed. “Your arms must be sore. Do you want me to rub them?”

They did ache, but her offer was far too tempting for his fraying self-control. “That won’t be necessary. I’m going to the public baths. Keep the pistol, you know how to use it.” He was about to take the basin with him, but she protested.

“I can empty it, don’t worry.”

“…Thanks.” He couldn’t resist ruffling her short damp hair. His hand tingling, he hurried out of the building and down the road.

He was one of the few patrons at the time, and he was grateful. As he quickly scrubbed off the grime, he had an intrusive thought that she would be gone when he returned to the inn. It wouldn’t be surprising; being a runaway wasn’t nearly so glamorous, now that the initial adrenaline had faded.

However, when he knocked on the door, her lowered voice answered. Upon his entry, she sat up in her futon, clearly relieved. “Welcome back.”

And he smiled. “I’m back.”

***

They kept moving, never staying in a town longer than a few days. Kougami maintained a close eye on their surroundings, but he didn’t spot anyone tailing them. If Tougane was still persistent, he might have lost their trail. They traveled inland, running errands for money; he usually did manual labor, while she was a good scribe.

In one of the larger markets, there was a stall selling books. Her interest couldn’t be concealed, and he encouraged her to peruse, while he bought the remainder of their supplies. She had found one in particular and her gaze was bright as she skimmed through the book.

“Is it about law?” He asked over her shoulder.

“History, actually. But it’s well-written.”

He approached the vendor. “How much?” They spent a minute bargaining, but he was going to pay regardless.

As they headed to their lodgings, she humbly said. “Kougami-san, you didn’t have to.”

“Hey, it’s a gift. That’s what roommates do.” He smacked the spot between her shoulder blades, and she startled. For a moment, he wondered if that was too forward, but she didn’t mention it.

“Well, then I need to return the favor. Let me know if you really want anything.”

There was, but it wasn’t the time, place, or situation to ask for it. He didn’t speak again, trying not to think of a sweltering night that seemed like years ago.

In the evenings, he pored over their maps, marking the places they had left. It was still warm, and he left the window open. The sound of cicadas also distracted him from the fact that he was really itching for a smoke.

Then, there was a slight tap against his upper arm. Miss Tsunemori had set her book aside, holding out an open box of rolled papers, pungent and familiar.

“Here. I bought you a new pack, since you ran out.”

“You noticed.” It was the same brand he liked too. Touched, he accepted the cigarettes. He picked one, lighting it. Noticing that she was watching, he asked. “Want to try one?”

“No, thank you. I’ve gotten used to the smell though. Now, it reminds me of you.”

“Does it?” He regarded her, the smoke weaving around them. She blushed but didn’t look away.

At that moment, a cicada flew into the room. She clamped a hand over her mouth to stop from screaming, and he bit off a curse as he extinguished the cigarette in the ash tray, before grabbing his boot to kill the invader. A few good hits, and he tossed the body out before she closed the window. Damn bugs.

Shocked laughter bubbled from her lips. “That was…scary.”

“I wasn’t expecting that.” But he began to laugh too. It was the first time, since they’d driven away from Tokyo.

After recovering, it was quiet again. Even the cicadas must have tired out. For a second, they stared at each other.

“Well…it’s late.” She slowly said, wrapping up in her blankets. “Good night.”

In every room, they’d been sleeping on opposite ends, but this one was the smallest so far. If he could, he could roll over and close that distance. But he only answered. “Night.”

***

The final summer days gave way to autumn, and the mountains were abundant with color. Unfortunately, the scenery was the only enjoyable thing. Influenza was spreading, from beyond the borders. The numbers of infected and dead were rising fast. It was recommended to cover their faces with muslin layers, and the masks also served in laying low. However, it wasn’t enough, because he fell asleep one night with a dry throat and woke to feeling cold under his blankets.

She took over, ignoring his attempts to convince her that he should be left behind. She kept their brazier lit, measured his medicine, and even wiped him above the waist. He felt terrible and weak, but he had to rely on her. From morning to night, she looked after him, her brows drawn together in perpetual concern. He wasn’t getting better, not as quickly as he thought, and he knew it.

One morning, she wasn’t there when he opened his eyes, and he made an effort to sit up. The room spinning, he swayed, and his hand landed on the note she had left. She was buying more tea for him, but she would be back soon. And just like that, he was reassured. He didn’t stir again until he sensed her presence.

“I’m back. I’ve brought someone who said he could help. Can you hear me, Kougami-san?” She squeezed his fingers.

“Mm.” He grasped back, comforted by her touch.

“Kougami? Is that you?” The voice was familiar, and he thought he was dreaming as he looked up into the surprised, bespectacled eyes of the man who held weekly lessons for the rowhouse children.

“Saiga-sensei…please help.” Then, he spiraled into delirium.

***

“Young lady, what is he to you?”

“He’s-”

***

Just as he was beginning to crest over the worst, her temperature spiked. He blamed himself. Staying in one room together this whole time, breathing the same air. She deteriorated fast, struggling with each inhale. Her skin was burning, despite the growing chilliness.

He didn’t leave her bedside, giving her water and broth and the little medicine he was able to buy. Saiga said he had seen other young women survive this, but his expression was serious. Kougami was afraid. Afraid that she was going to die, and he couldn’t do anything about it.

In her fever dreams, she called for her parents. Her grandmother. Her friends. And for him. “Kougami-san! Don’t go!” For whatever reason he was, it brought her to tears, because they spilled down her face, onto her sweat-soaked pillow.

“I’m here.” He hushed her, pressing his hand to her forehead. “I’m here, Akane. I won’t leave you.”

He wouldn’t, because she believed in him. In the silent spaces between her coughing, her words haunted him.

He’s the person I trust most with my life.

***

“So, you ran away together?” Saiga summarized, as the two of them sat on the back steps of his house. “I admit, I’m not sure what to make of your decision. You must have had your difficulties.”

“It wasn’t easy, but it had its kinder moments.” Footprints in the sand, pages in the candlelight. A sheet between them.

His old teacher smiled. “That’s how life is. It was lucky that I was passing through. I was sick earlier this year, so I’ve been helping out. Kougami, don’t underestimate this flu.”

“It’s going to get worse, isn’t it? Winter isn’t even here yet.”

“You assume correctly. But at the very least, you’re both alive. I’m glad.” Miss Tsunemori’s fever had finally broken, though she was still weak. Kougami was better, but not by much. He still couldn’t bring himself to light a cigarette yet.

“Me too.”

“Whatever you decide next will be crucial. Snowy roads are harder to traverse, and with the infection rates, I’d be surprised if any small town will welcome outsiders. As long as you hold on to logic and clarity, you’ll find a solution.”

“I won’t forget. Thank you.”

With that, his teacher excused himself to obtain groceries, and Kougami went inside. She was reading the newspaper, looking lost.

“Miss Tsunemori?”

“Oh, Kougami-san. Um, sorry.” She hastily wiped at her eyes. “All the news of cases and deaths made me think of Obaa-chan. If we were this ill, then what about her? Masaoka-san too, and everyone else.”

“I know. Even Gino is only human. But if we go back…”

“We’re immune though. We can offer to nurse the sick, in exchange for clemency. We can negotiate.”

“And Tougane?”

“I can always use the pandemic as an excuse for delaying a wedding.”

“I don’t like the idea of you marrying him.” Saying that aloud felt like drawing to the edge of a precipice, that he knew he couldn’t turn back from.

‘I don’t either. But I’ll find another way.” Of course, she would say that. And he had faith in her.

He smiled bitterly. “Alright. Let’s return to Tokyo.”

#shinkaneweek #shinkane #psycho pass #i hit a block and then thought 'i wonder what else happened in 1918'#*googles*#oh #uhhhhh #that's appropriate

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kikis-writing-world · 4 years

Text

Who’s The Boss

Summary: Max has a late night meeting with his boss to discuss his recent poor performance. She might have an idea or two on what he can do to keep his job.

Pairing: Max Phillips x F!OC (It is written third person, but there are very few descriptors. Could be read as F!Reader)

Word Count: 3.8k

Rating/Warnings: 18+ SMUT! D/S dynamics (sub!Max, use of “ma’am” and “good boy” honorifics), abuse of power (consensual boss/employee,) oral (f receiving,) squirting, fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, role playing, established relationship, aftercare conversation (he’s a vamp and doesn’t really need any, but it’s brought up CUZ ITS IMPORTANT!) Swearing. No beta/editing. As always, if I miss a tag please feel free to let me know! I wanna keep my bbys safe <3

A/N: Idk why I thought I should write Max being dommed? I guess I wanted our vampire frat boy to be put in his place?. Anyway... here it is, I’m only mildly ashamed lol

Max watched as the final person boarded the elevator, finally leaving the office. He’d been anxious all day, uncharacteristically so, for the rest of his coworkers to leave for the night. He nearly felt like shooing Elaine out of the office by the time she was packing up. With the floor empty, he finally turned towards the closed door of the office.

She’d disappeared into the office about 40 minutes ago. The door was closed but the light was on, bleeding through the crack under the door. He steeled himself, not truly knowing what he was going to meet on the other side once he knocked. Grabbing the nearest file folder off the nearest desk, he shook his arms loose and crossed the room. His knock was answered by a clipped voice, calling for him to enter.

She was sitting behind the desk, looking over various papers and reports. Her bottom lip, perfectly painted bright red, was caught between her teeth. The cardigan she’d worn earlier in the day was draped over the back of the chair. The top two buttons of her tight blouse were undone, the third looking ready to pop open over the swell of her breasts. He cursed the desk from blocking his view of her lower half. He’d seen the pencil skirt she was wearing as she walked the office earlier and he would love another look at her bare legs.

“Can I help you, Mr. Phillips?” She drawled. Her voice oozed with boredom and she didn’t even look up at him. Something about his disinterest had him aching to catch her attention.

“Uh, yes, Mrs-”

“Miss.” She cut him off with a sharp glare before he even had a chance to say her name. It was so abrupt, he almost felt like he was slapped with the syllable.

“It’s Miss.” She repeated, eyes boring into him. “I’m not married. What use would I have for some useless husband?” She scoffed, sitting up and giving him her full attention. His eyes dropped to her chest, seeing the way the movement put even more strain on the fabric covering her.

“Well? Are you wasting my time for a reason, Phillips, or are you here to stare at my breasts?” She snipped, eyebrow quirking up in challenge. Her lips pursed, proud of herself for catching him. He might have blushed if he was physically capable.

“It’s my sales numbers.” He grimaced. She was already in a bad mood and it was about to get worse.

“I’ve already seen your numbers, Phillips.” She sighed, standing up. His eyes followed her hands as they smoothed down the front of her skirt. “Have a seat,” she ordered, gesturing to the chair opposite her. He sat as requested, keeping the folder in his lap as she rounded to the front of the desk. The red patent stilettos she wore nearly made his mouth water.

“Now Max,” she paused to perch on the edge of the desk. He fought to keep his eyes on her face and not the long legs on display in front of him. “May I call you Max?”

“Of course.” He nodded, desperate for her approval.

“Max, we had very high hopes for you when you came to us but lately your numbers have been dropping. You’re not quite up to par. What’s going on, buddy?” She asked with an exaggerated pout.

He struggled to answer, not only because he was scared to disappoint but also because she crossed her legs as she spoke. Any thoughts he had about defending himself disappeared, the only thoughts on the smooth inner thigh and scrap of red fabric she’d flashed him.

She tsked, stopped his ambling for a coherent thought. “That’s a shame. You had good credentials, good references, you did amazing in your interview.”

She leaned back onto her desk, both arms stretched behind her to keep herself propped up. He wished beyond wishes that button in the center of her chest would finally give way.

“If you don’t start impressing me, we’re going to have to let you go.” She stated.

Max’s eyes widened, tearing his gaze away from her body to her eyes. “There has to be something I can do. I need this job. I’m better than these numbers, I promise.”

“Hmm,” She hummed, biting her lower lip as she thought. Despite the worry over losing his job, he wondered how it tasted. “There may be something you can do for me, Max.” She decided, uncrossing her legs.

“Anything.” He breathed, and by god did he mean it.

The last thing he was expecting was for her to lift her leg, resting the arch of her foot on his shoulder. The overhead lights bounced off the shiny material of the shoe as it found its perch, the thin heel pressing not uncomfortably into his collarbone. His mouth ran dry as he followed the line of her leg up from her foot to where it disappeared under her skirt. The skirt that had ridden up her thighs as she lifted her leg high enough to pin him in the chair.

“Why don’t you show me that silver tongue you bragged about when we hired you.” She purred.

Max’s jaw dropped and it took his brain a second to catch up. It didn’t help that what little blood he had coursing through his vampiric veins was entirely focussed below his belt.

“Yes ma’am.” He breathed. He tried to move forward, but her leg kept him in his seat.

“You can start there.” She instructed, very glib for what she was asking him to do.

“Yes ma’am,” he repeated. He cupped her calf in his hand, pressing his lips to the inside of her ankle. He kissed it tenderly, eyes on her to see if he was pleasing her. Her lips quirked up, almost imperceptibly so but it egged him on regardless. He kissed her ankle, licking the soft skin. He tested the pressure against his shoulder, moving his lips farther up her leg. When he met no resistance, he continued upwards.

He nipped at the skin of her calf, worshiping every inch of skin she permitted him to reach. When she felt his teeth against her skin, she didn’t jump, but warned him not to bite. He glanced up at her, trying to show his apology in his eyes. She seemed appeased and didn’t say anything more, letting her leg drape over his shoulder as he moved higher.

He reached her thigh, looking up for permission to push her skirt out of the way. Instead of verbalizing a response, she hooked her other knee over his shoulder. Trapped between her soft thighs, he could already smell her arousal. She lifted her hips from the desk, pushing her weight onto him. He slid the skirt up to her waist, revealing the lacy red number that she had been hiding all day. He moved to pull the garment down over her ass, but she stopped him with a hard pull of his hair quickly grabbing his attention.

“Do you really think you’ve earned that yet?” She asked. He could tell it was rhetorical, that he hadn’t earned it. He responded by releasing the lace, which earned him a good boy. He didn’t have a chance to preen under the praise as she pushed his head forward to her core.

He gripped her thighs as he licked at her through her panties. The fabric was already damp and tasted of her. He groaned, gripping her plush thighs tighter.

She sighed above him, releasing her tight grip on his hair to stroke it instead. Her nails dragged along his scalp in the most delicious way.

The lace grew slick quickly, his own saliva mixing with her arousal as he worked at her. It clung to her skin, almost showing him what she looked like underneath. He longed to taste her without the damn barrier between them.

Her hand left the back of his head, but having received no further instructions, he kept licking and sucking at her. He pushed his tongue as deep into her as the underwear allowed, swirling his tongue against her walls before focusing back on her clit. Chancing a glance upwards, he saw that she had unbuttoned her blouse, her hands playing with her nipples through the matching red lace bra. He moaned at the sight.

“Focus.” She chided, although her tone was breathy with pleasure. He obliged, hoping that if he made her feel good enough, she’d give him more. “So easily distracted.”

“Sorry, ma’am.” He muttered, not daring to move away. He heard her breath hitch as his voice vibrated against her. He hummed against her, hoping to recreate the sensation.

Her hips bucked as she gasped. He smirked proudly against her, but a moment later she was pulling him away by his hair again. He looked up at her, licking her taste off his lips as he wondered what he’d done wrong.

“Take them off.”

He barely stopped himself from ripping the delicate fabric into pieces, instead sliding it hastily down her legs. He dropped the red lace to the ground, diving back into her core. He moaned at the taste of her with nothing blocking his way this time. He devoured her like a man starved.

His increased efforts seemed to be working for her, as she leaned backwards onto her elbows with a moan. He wanted to tell her how exquisite she tasted, but was worried taking his mouth off of her to do so would just annoy her. He tried to convey it with his actions, licking as deep into her as he could. He groaned as her juices coated his tongue, dripping down his lips and chin.

Her hand was back in his hair, firm grip directing him up to her clit. He obliged, circling the bud with his tongue. He tried different motions, listening for her reactions to find what she liked best. Anytime she moaned or gasped, he tried to make her do it again and again. His chin was soaked, but it felt like she was growing wetter by the second against him.

“Fingers,” she breathed, a pleading tone to her voice. The sound made him ache in his pants, her in-charge facade losing power as he pleasured her.

He plunged two fingers inside her, her walls fluttering around them as she whimpered. He worked them in and out, crooking them upwards against her muscles as he searched for the spot that would drive her wild. He knew he found it when her hips jerked against him, heels digging into his back as her grip on his hair grew near painful.

“Right there,” she confirmed, voice breaking. “Oh god Max, right there.”

He thanked whatever evil magic behind vampires that he didn’t need oxygen to live. Even if he did need to breathe, he wouldn’t have been able to pull out of her tight grip as she came. As her taste flooded his mouth, he acknowledged that this would have been a valiant death indeed. She ground her hips against him, using him to prolong her pleasure.

He only pulled away as her body went limp, her hand releasing the back of his head as she reclined against the desk, panting to catch her breath. He sat up, devouring the sight of her splayed out in front of him as he licked her from his lips. Her lipstick was smeared so slightly from biting her lips, her skin shimmering with a sheen of sweat. He could see her nipples peaked against the lacy bra. Her legs were still propped on his shoulders, giving him an exquisite view of her twitching pussy. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her as he began undoing his pants.

The sound of his belt clanking open had her looking down at him. She frowned, despite her relaxed stance.

“Oh no, no, no.” She practically sang, stopping Max in his tracks. “You think one little orgasm and I’m going to let you fuck me?” She laughed, breathless. “It’s going to take more than that. Especially if you want me to forgive those awful sales numbers.” She sat up, chest still heaving. She fanned her blouse, trying to cool her body.

When Max’s voice finally returned to him, he asked “What do I need to do?”

She cupped his chin, making sure he kept his eyes on her face. “Such a good boy,” she cooed, caressing his cheek with her thumb. He leaned into the loving touch, craving more of it. “If you want to make me forget those numbers, you better make me soak this desk. Make a mess of those reports and I won’t be able to read the numbers, will I?”

The grip on his chin tightened as she leaned forward, holding in place as she stared him down. “And then maybe I’ll let you fuck me. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am.” He gulped, staring deeply into her eyes.

“Good boy.” She smiled, giving his head a quick shake before she released her grip and laid back against the desk once more.

Max didn’t need to be instructed further. He wanted to fuck her. Wanted to prove that he deserved to fuck her, that he could make her feel so good if she let him. The second she laid back, he dove between her thighs once more.

She was still sensitive from her first orgasm, if her twitching muscles and breathless moans were anything to go by. He eased two fingers back inside of her, searching once again for that spot. She was tighter but wetter than moments before and he throbbed in his pants. He could feel his dick leaking with excitement, but he had to ignore it for now. It would be worth it if she finally let him fuck her.

He sucked her clit gently to start, easing her back into the sensations, but worked up to a feverish pace quickly. She was writhing under him in no time as his fingers twisted inside of her.

He heard objects falling off the desk as she squirmed. She was making a mess and he loved it. Anything that could serve as proof that he was rocking her world was good in his book.

“M-Max, I’m-” She moaned as something heavy clattered to the ground.

He growled against her, massaging and pressing inside her. If she wanted to make a mess, he’d make a mess of her.

He felt her whole body tense up and shake before exploding as she cried out. Her convulsing walls pushed his fingers out of her as she came, warm and wet against him. He moaned as it soaked him, drinking up as much of the sweet nectar as he could as he circled her clit with his fingers. He felt his shirt sticking to him as her cum dribbled down his chin and neck.

As quickly as it happened, it was over. She lay whimpering and twitching on the desk as he sat back against the chair beaming with pride. She didn’t even look up at him as he gently lowered her legs from his shoulders, bringing them into his lap instead.

He caressed her lower legs, grounding her and letting her know he was there as he waited for his next orders. He was almost painfully hard as he waited for her to come back to him, to finally give him the permission he craved. If he didn’t get to fuck her, god he was going to kill something tonight.

She sat up slowly, her hair a mess. She looked like the perfect centerfold of the dirtiest magazine he could think of, eyes hooded and dark. She reminded him of the MTV video vamps he jerked off to as a teenager, only hotter. Teenaged him would have blown his load twice-over by now.

“So, you can follow directions then.” She hummed.

Max couldn’t stop the laugh from bubbling in his chest. “When there’s an incentive.”

She chucked with him, leaning towards him. She reached out to wipe his face, collecting her juices on her fingers. “The carrot instead of the rod then.” She smirked before sucking her fingers clean.

“Whichever one gets to fuck you.” He shot back, adding a ma’am as he remembered himself.

“Don’t get cheeky,” she warned although she grinned. “But you’ve earned it.”

Max thought he might faint as she crooked her finger, beckoning him forward. He stood so quickly the chair toppled behind him. He stood between her legs, pressing as close to her as he could. He could feel his pants dampening across his thighs where he leaned into the desk under her. He was trembling with anticipation, but he waited for her permission to go any further.

She caressed his cheek, tiling her face in thought. He nuzzled into her hand, aching for more of her touch, to please her.

“You want me?” She purred.

“Please.” He nearly whimpered.

“How do you want me?”

“Anyway you’ll have me.”

“Good boy.” She grinned, patting his cheek twice. She turned his head, pressing her mouth to his ear to whisper “bend me over the desk and fuck me like your job depends on it.”

He was never so glad for super-human speed. She was bent over the desk, ass on display in a second. He heard her gasp as she was laid flat over the top of the desk, but he could hardly care. He was too busy pushing his pants down his thighs, finally freeing his cock.

He lined himself up, not daring to ask if she was ready lest she take back the permission she’d given. He thrust into her, groaning loudly as he finally sank into her warmth. She moaned, back arching under him. He had to pause, already so close to cumming after the long wait.

“Fuck, Max.” She panted as she adjusted to his size. It only took a second until she was wiggling back into him.

He gripped her hips tightly. Not having been able to bite her, mark her up, he hoped her hips bruised. Hoped she would have a lasting reminder of him taking her over the desk in the days it took to fade.

He thrust in and out, hearing the breath punched out of her lungs with every stroke. Her hands were scrambling for purchase, looking for something solid to hold onto as he fucked harshly into her. He grit his teeth, trying to stave off his own increasing pleasure. He had to make this last. She moaned beneath him, pushing back into his thrusts once she gripped the edge of the desk for leverage.

He was glad he’d had the patience to wait until the office was empty. There was no doubt what was happening in this room from the lewd sounds. Skin slapping skin; moans, grunts and cries. Watching her ass bounce against him, he was glad he hadn’t died between her thighs. He wouldn’t have wanted to miss this.

Feeling bold by the noises she was making, he reached forward and gripped her hair, pulling her head back. She whimpered before moaning his name loudly. He felt her tighten impossibly around him. Taking that as approval, he kept the grip tight.

“God, Max,” she moaned loudly, voice echoing off the walls. “If you could make sales with your dick, we’d be rich.”

He growled through clenched teeth, eating up the praise. Releasing her hair, he wrapped his hand around her neck, pulling her flush against his chest. She whimpered as it changed the angle inside of her, her eyes fluttering closed.

“‘S’at mean I’m keeping my job?” He huffed into her ear before licking a stripe up her neck.

“Seal the deal first.” She shot back. He nearly laughed that she was still trying to hold authority over him in such a vulnerable position. Her legs were shaking, her voice trembling and hoarse.

He released her neck to palm her breast. He squeezed at the soft skin as he nosed along her shoulder. She smelt like sweat and sex, her typical perfume all but faded. He swore he could even smell the blood in her veins, flowing so fast, so hot.

She cried out his name as he pinched her nipple. He pushed her back over the desk, feeling her legs close to giving out. He could feel her getting close to her third orgasm, her walls fluttering around him. He stopped holding back, ready to chase his own release. Sneaking his hand beneath her, it only took the barest flick to her sensitive clit until she was wailing beneath him.

His eyes rolled back as her walls clamped around him. Feeling her walls fluttering around him, convulsing with release, it only took him a few more shallow thrusts until he was joining her. His loud groans bounced off the walls of the small office as he buried himself deep within her. She whimpered softly, reaching back to hold the hand that was clasped around her hip.

As he came down from his high, he pulled his softening length from her. He watched her walls flutter against nothing, his seed dripping out of her. He gripped a cheek in each hand, massaging them. It made the milky liquid drip out of her quicker, spreading over her lips. It was hypnotic.

He stopped himself before any could drip down onto the carpet. He took a kleenex from the box that had miraculously stayed on top of the desk throughout the encounter, using it to clean her up. She whined softly at the touch, overstimulated and spent. He threw the used tissue in the bin with perfect accuracy.

Lifting his pants back to his hips, he rounded the desk to sit in the rolling chair she had occupied when he entered. He couldn’t help but laugh at the goofy sated smile on her face as she remained on the desk. She looked up at his laugh, eyes bright but tired.

“So, do I keep my job?” He asked with a grin, smoothing down her hair.

“Mmhmm.” She nodded, closing her eyes at his touch. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

He laughed heartily at that before pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Another round, maybe.”

“Ugh, vampire.” She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I mean, I didn’t say anything-”

“No, you were perfect.” He promised her.

“‘Kay. Good.” She sighed. “Cause if you needed, I’d move right now. I would.”

“I believe you.”

She groaned as she stood up, stretching her tired muscles. She kicked her shoes off, legs shaky enough without the heels, and padded slowly around the desk, leaning heavily on the furniture for support. Max watched with a smug grin.

“Shut up.” She pouted, sitting delicately in his lap.

“Didn’t say anything.” He argued, wrapping his arms around her.

“You were thinking it. It’s not my fault I can’t keep up with you.” She complained, nuzzling into his neck.

“Nope.” He denied, letting the word pop. “I was wondering if I get to be your… what did you say, “useless husband” again.”

“I was getting into character.” She laughed softly. “You’re always my useless husband, Mr. Phillips.”

“Don’t you forget it, Mrs. Phillips.”

Tagging @wickedfrsgrl @din-damn-djarin @thisisthe-wayson @vonschweetz @insideafictionaluniverse @driedgreentomatoes @computeringturtle @gorgeousgrogu (you replied to my post about writing this, but I can remove the tag if you’d like)

#Max Phillips x OC #Max Phillips x Reader #Max Phillips x F!OC #Max Phillips x F!Reader #Max Phillips imagine #Max Phillips fic #Max Phillips smut #Bloodsucking Bastards fanfic #dirty writings #Lemony fresh #WookieTales

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fe-semi-decent-scenarios · 4 years

Text

FE3H: Felix x Reader {Territorial}

Premise: This war won’t take another thing from Felix, at least not on his own soil.

Part: (2/2) {Previous}

Warning: Angst, Loss, a lil fluff in this one

A week ago, all Felix knew was anger. It was not a village he spotted but the remnants of what remained of the army’s forces. They had driven off the Empire from assaulting further into Fargeus territory, but the battle overall was a massive loss. The list of casualties was long, and if they hadn’t remained to scout the are then perhaps two generals would be on it as well. He had failed.

The moment he arrived at the encampment (Y/N) fell into a deep slumber. In the care of whatever healers that had survived, she managed to survive the trip back to the monastery without issue. He was grateful, but the words caught in his throat. He watched as a collective sigh of relief overtook the camp when word of her stabilizing spread. To be respected by one’s subordinates was expected, but she had earned their companionship. He felt a surge of pride that soon turned to self-hatred. A moment later and these troops would have lost their leader.

He had no need to deliver news to the Professor or the Boar. They met him at the gates and their expressions said they knew it all. Instead of standing around for a useless pep talk, he pushed through to the training hall. No one followed or tried to stop him. At some point Ashe came to inform him of (Y/N)’s care status. Still asleep, and now in Manuela’s clinic. Pitiful.

“Felix, will you not join us for dinner?” after two days the professor came. Despite his own healing injuries, he still trained. For hours, until he’d go sit outside the clinic overnight. The guards on duty weren’t enough in his opinion and no one dared to argue.

“No”

He swiped at the training dummy, adding another to a collection of many gashes.

“I understand that you’re worried about (Y/N), but you can’t neglect yourself. She wouldn’t want this,” They said, and Felix felt the hatred from the week before resurface. With a strangled grunt he threw the sword down at the ground. They had no right to put words in her mouth, especially ones he knew were true. True, and that was the issue.

“Don’t act like you understand when you don’t! You will never understand until-” He caught himself. Byleth remained quiet in wait for his answer, but he could only clutch his head in frustration. This wasn’t a talk to have with his teacher.

“Never mind,” he sighed, “I’m out of here, don’t follow me,” he stormed past before they could say more. Instead of heading to the mess hall, Felix walked straight to Manuela’s clinic. He ignored any who tried to speak with him, and honestly didn’t have it in him to feel even remotely guilty.

Just as he was about to enter the clinic his steps halted; one hand outstretched towards the handle. Despite the battle being over for over a week not once had he visited her. He tried. Each night Manuela would leave the door open for him, and each night his hand would hover near the doorknob. Something about seeing her so lifeless, so fragile; it stopped him every time.

He almost turns to sit on the floor again, but the door opened without him needing to do so. For a second Manuela gasps at his unkept appearance, before grinning and yanking him inside.

“Felix dear! I was just on my way to find you. (Y/N), he’s right here!” She sang out while pushing him towards a cot hidden behind a screen-divider. There was a faint shadow on it illuminated by candlelight. She was awake, and he didn’t know how to feel.

“You two lovebirds take a moment to talk. I will be in professor Hannamen’s office if you need anything,” Manuela said, leaving and shutting the door behind her. He needed to leave before something bad happened. He wasn’t ready to face this yet. Not only mentally, but physically. He hadn’t shaved since the battle and was sweaty from training. She was the last person he would want to look at him.

“Felix? Why are you so far away?” his heart thumped in his chest. Any tension he was feeling before faded away at her voice. The last time they spoke it was laced with death. It haunted his dreams to where he almost forgot how beautiful the sound was. Escape was impossible, something he realized as the shadow moved. Before she could get up, he crossed the screen barrier.

“I was just man-handled by Manuela. Even I need time to recuperate sometimes,” he grumbled and stood at the edge of her bed. At the sound of her laugh his gaze drew to her face. Dark circles painted her eyes despite being asleep for so long, and she had a bedhead worse for wear. It reminded him of when they would study together for tests as teens. He’d complain about the hassle, she’d force him to stay, and somehow, they both would end up not learning anything. Simply aggravating the librarian and losing sleep over nothing.

“Sorry,” her laugh ended. He didn’t know what else to say. What else could he say in a situation like this? His face soured, something she clearly took note of. He averted his attention to the low-burned candle.

“Well? How do you feel?” he asked, albeit in a less sincere tone than he felt.

“Alright. A bit stiff and sore, but nothing too serious,” she stretched while speaking. Felix was not stupid. A wound like hers would not go without side effects. Despite the lie he tried to remain neutral.

“Good,” and so a pregnant silence overtook them. He closed his eyes, resting for what felt like the first time in weeks.

“When I woke up, Manuela said a week had passed. Is that true?” She asked, and he could sense her nerves. The familiar bubbling in his gut began to appear, and he clenched his fists.

“Yeah,”

“…my soldiers?”

“Alive, they were relived to see you safe. You have a good platoon,” He did not lie. His men were not his friends, and he liked it that way. Comradery was not his strong suit, but to know she had people at her side put him at ease. He peered an eye open in time to see her slouch against the bedframe. No doubt they were first on her mind after awaking.

“I know. They’re good people,” She smiled. A faint one, yet still enough to almost make him mimic it. He was close until his eye caught the bandages around her neck. Most were hidden under thin sheets, but he knew. He knew what was there and did not know what to do. They were a reminder, and the scars underneath a forever momento. She caught his glare, and instinctively reached to cradle them. The bubbling grew to a boil.

“Could you say something? Anything?” she burst out in the silence, “Yell at me, scream at me, tell me I’m stupid or that you hate me? I don’t regret what I did Felix, but you need to talk to me,” her words were desperate and broke his stare from the bandage. He watched her form tuck in as she took a deep breath, yet he still could not find the right words. She knew how he felt about other people protecting him. That was his kill, his fight, and his wound. She knew, yet she went and did something so-so her.

“You want me to talk to you?!” he seethed and pushed off the wall, “Do you-“She shrunk back into the bedframe but he couldn’t stop. Not on his own.

“Do you have any idea what you put me through?! That was not your place! You are not allowed to die!”

His words caused her to pause. She unfolded, and he knew that look after so many arguments together. Her eyes squinted at him as she raised to sit straight on her knees. Fire that made her the fighter he fell for, and one the soldiers obeyed.

“And how is that fair?! I’ve said it before, and I will say it again: we are a team

Felix! If I can’t die, then you can’t either! Do you honestly think I could have lived with myself if you disappeared?!” she yelled. Their voices echoed on the clinic’s walls and bounced around the room. Rebuttal after rebuttal they continued to argue until the candlelight had dimmed to nearly visible. He watched as tears pricked her eyes and wondered how his own face looked. At some point she had moved closer to him, to where he could almost smell the medicinal herbs used in the various treatments she’d undergone. Over and over she insisted on his importance. Of how great a warrior he is, how his friends needed him, how the country needed him; she didn’t understand. What about him? What about what he wanted? He did what he chose, not what was expected. He’d sooner die for himself, then let her die because of other people.

He would not let his father say those words again. Not for himself, and surly not for her.

“You would have gotten over it. Everyone does, death is natural,” his voice calmed as she grew even nearer to the bed’s end. The bubbling simmered, and he reached out towards a strand of her hair. Matted, a bit worn, but soft.

“…Felix?” his hand soon moved to her cheek. One he caressed many times over in private. Her lips drew taught, yet she still leaned into his touch.

“If I die, I will do it fighting for what I believe in (Y/N). Not as a mindless solider,” he said, ending the argument. Normally he would leave her to think on her own, just as he’s done with everyone else. He doesn’t like explaining himself and has always thought people were too self-absorbed to understand his way of life. His father for one barely tried beyond pleasantries. Yet, he wanted her to. The way her hand came to rest over his own showed that she did too.

“I did what I wanted. I fight because I love you, I love our friends, and I love our home …not for anything else. You know that” she whispered. Her arms came to wrap around his neck, and he pulled her in. He did know and it made his gut wrench. It twisted in fear for losing her like he lost his brother and for failing himself; yet, at the same time hearing her words made him happy. Her wounds may have been because of him, but they were partially for the same reason he fought. Maybe she didn’t enjoy the excitement of battle like he did, but her cause was her own, not of a higher power.

“I love you, and I would do it all over again”

“Stupid…I love you too”

#felix x reader #fe: three houses #fe3h #fire emblem x reader #fire emblem three houses #fe3h imagine #fe3h imagines #fe3h fic #felix hugo fraldarius #felix hugo fraldarius x reader #blue lions #fire emblem #fire emblem fanfic #Female reader

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