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inkykeiji · 3 years

Text

you’re like a drug to me, a luxury, my sugar and gold

character: gojou satoru

genre: smut with a sprinkle of fluff at the end

notes: aaaaah first jjk fic ever!!!! uhhh this is honestly just pure smut and punishment, satoru is a Bad Daddy, and it’s set in a curseless AU | title cred: handclap by fitz and the tantrums

warnings: 18+ minors dni, dubcon/noncon, slight size difference/size kink, belly bulge, spanking with a belt, rough sex, minimal prep, minimal aftercare (at first), toxic and unhealthy relationship (satoru is mean n a bad daddy!), daddy kink/slightly implied ddlg dynamics, praise kink, dacryphilia

words: 3.1k

synopsis:

And although you can—and do—get away with a lot, you can’t get away with everything. A little brattiness he can handle, a little brattiness he thinks is cute. But on the days when you’re really misbehaving, purposefully (or not) breaking every rule, acting out and refusing to listen, rejecting any bargain or compromise with him at all—well, he’s only human.

And he snaps.

Gojou Satoru is a bad Daddy.

He’s a sweet Daddy, a silly Daddy, a Daddy who’s almost incapable of saying no. He’s a Daddy with a massive sweet tooth, a Daddy who frequently allows both of you to have dessert before dinner—sometimes dessert for dinner—and a Daddy who gives his princess nearly everything she desires, weak to your pretty pout and puppy-dog eyes and please, Daddy?’s. He hates to deny you, aches at the thought of you being even just a teensy bit displeased, because he wants his baby happy, always.

It’s his fault, really, you’re saying, insisting, when he calls you a spoiled brat. Because, honestly, it is; Satoru is entitled—he always has been, born with a not silver, not gold, but platinum spoon in his mouth—and his little princess is entitled, too.

Because he gives you anything and everything you ask for the moment the demand leaves your mouth, dotes on you hand and foot, absolutely adores you, lavishing you in the finest silks and prettiest lace, always indulging you just as much as he indulges himself—as much as he has always been indulged, growing up filthy rich.

Because you weren’t always like this; or, at least, you weren’t always this brash about it.

But years of getting exactly what you want, exactly when you want it, has forced your attitude to change, to shift.

You haven’t changed, Satoru tells you one day, a tub full of melty ice cream in his lap as he shovels another spoonful into your mouth, waning sun bathing the penthouse terrace in translucent gold and coral, brilliant colours reflected in his crystal eyes. “I didn’t do anything—I simply revealed your true nature,” A devious little smirk spreads across his lips, eyes glinting in an almost ominous nature, and you shiver. “You’ve always been a selfish materialistic brat, haven’t you?”

Well, you guess he has a point.

And he snaps.

It’s always something little, after a day full of disobedience, that does it, that finally lights the fuse and forces an explosion. Something that would normally be inconsequential, something he’d usually laugh off with a coo and a loving pat to your head.

Because you fought him on bedtime last night, then fought him on going to university this morning. You demanded pancakes for breakfast and when he denied them to you, because he’s got an important meeting in the afternoon and thus hasn’t the time to make them, you refused to eat anything at all—only to whine and bitch and complain about how starved you were for the entire duration of his conference. And yet, throughout it all, he was the perfect picture of patience, endlessly cool and nonchalant in his responses to your multiple tantrums.

Until you rushed into the kitchen in a famished frenzy, diving straight for the cookie jar and shoving three in your mouth.

“Sweets are not an appropriate dinner, baby,”

The words are sighed out in pure exasperation, his thumb and his forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose, lids shut tightly.

Eyebrows furrowing, you tilt your head in confusion, speaking around your mouthful. “Since when?”

His eyes snap open, blazing azure glaring at you with such an intensity it makes you flinch, cookie crumbs turning to ash in your mouth.

“Since forever,” he seethes, mask of impassivity finally beginning to break.

“What?” you laugh around the word, but it trembles. “What are you talking about? You rarely enforce that rule—especially since you don’t even follow it yourself!”

“It doesn’t matter,” he snaps, nostrils flaring with a particularly harsh exhale. “I am the boss, and what I say goes,”

“Daddy!” A sock-clad foot stomps against the marble floor as you whine out the word, arms crossing tightly over your chest. “That isn’t fair! You can’t just—”

“Enough with this attitude!” he snarls, moving like a crack of lighting as he lunges at you, lithe arms embracing you in an iron grip. “I can, and I will,”

And then he’s hauling you over his shoulder, one strong arm wrapped around you and pinning you draped over his body, delivering swift, harsh slaps to your ass every time you kick your feet or beat your fists against his back, while every whine and complaint earns you another spank in his mind, mentally tallying them up and vocalizing the thought a moment later.

“You’re being a meanie,”

“That’s twelve,” he growls.

“I don’t care!”

“Thirteen.”

“So what?”

“Fourteen.”

“That’s nothing,”

“Twenty-five.”

And that—that gets you to pause, but not to halt, not to stop, potent brattiness mixing with fury as it boils in your chest, the need to defy, to disobey, burning through your veins.

“I-I can handle that,”

“Thirty,” his voice is calm—serene, almost—and ice cold. There’s an underlying challenge sown into it, daring you to try him again, to utter another word. He’ll go higher, you can almost hear his apathetic voice floating through your mind; he’ll go as high as he needs to in order to teach such an ungrateful little brat a lesson.

Thirty it is.

The buckle of his favourite belt jingles as he undoes it, that dainty clink! forcing shivers to pebble across your naked skin, pressing your chest further into the foot of his bed, fingers curling in cashmere.

You’ve developed a love-hate relationship with that belt; it’s so fun when you get to undo it yourself, gentle fingers tugging and toying as you squirm eagerly in his lap, yet the clank and clattering of that heavy buckle as nimble fingers skillfully unfasten it and pull it from the loops of expensive trousers is almost menacing, carrying with it portentous threats it fully intends to see through.

He never warns you when the first strike is coming, reveling in the way your muscles are coiled in tension, in foreboding anticipation; basking in the surprised yelp that bubbles up in your throat.

“Relax,” he tells you with a callous chuckle, leather squealing between large, smooth hands as he folds it. “And count,”

It’s his usual response, predictable and scripted by this point, but he never seems to tire of it, notes of delight lacing his voice.

And that first blow never counts.

Gojou Satoru may be a bad Daddy by most standards, but his punishments are harsh, brutal, and cruel, and they happen to be one of the only things he takes seriously in life.

There’s rules to each of his punishments—so many rules he’s made you write them out multiple times, until your hand ached and fingers cramped and the heel of your palm was swollen, so they’d stick in that pretty empty little head of yours, so you never forget—and his spankings are no different.

You are not to move until he tells you to. You are not to speak unless spoken to. You are to count each lash, loud and clear before the next strike lands. Each mistake, each misstep and slip-up and refusal to comply, will earn you one extra slap. The tool is to be decided based on the severity of the offence.

The belt, all rigid rawhide and sharp edges, cuts into the supple flesh of your ass with each easy, nonchalant flick of his wrist, abrasively snapping against you.

Each collision of leather against flesh sears a tingly sting into your skin, biting rapidly rising welts into your ass and sending spiky jolts of agonizing pain bolting up your spine, the pain fading to a dull throb for just a moment before another blow is delivered.

“Gorgeous,” Satoru murmurs to himself halfway through your punishment, the word nothing more than a little huff of breath. You don’t dare respond, simply crying out the next number as he lands another harsh blow to your abused skin. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard a more beautiful sound, he continues, voice appearing faint and far away, mingling with the combined symphony of the crack of leather and pathetic whimpers muffled by sheets.

“It’s incredible,” he says, louder this time, voice dripping with wonderment, as if he can’t believe he’s created such a magnificent piece—the streaks of blood staining once perfect, unblemished skin; the high-pitched whines and sharp cries of each subsequent number; the resounding slap of the belt against your bare ass that evokes it all.

The whole thing sends a surge of intense power rushing through his veins, the tingling buzz it leaves behind enthralling and invigorating. You don’t need to look at him to know this, don’t need to see the way his eyes shine with it, the way his chest heaves with it, the way his entire body trembles with it—you can feel it in the atmosphere surrounding you, can feel the shift as his ego saturates the air, as his pure superiority bleeds into it, dense and suffocating, stimulating and revitalizing.

It infects your body, seeping in through your skin and flooding your veins, re-instills the need to be submissive, the ache to be good, providing you with the strength to endure.

The punishment lasts for forty-five excruciating minutes, accumulating a total of thirty three spanks—the extra three tacked onto your original punishment of thirty, one for each time you broke a rule. He’s on you in less than a second the moment it’s over, belt dropping to the rug-covered floor with a distinct thump as soft, eager palms roam your sweaty body, lips crushed against yours, still trembling as they spill pitiful whimpers into his mouth.

The luxurious bedroom—all cream and gold and drenched in sunlight—is blanketed by backhanded praises, warning you not to be a brat and just take what he gives. He’s sadistic when he gets in moods such as these, a feral glint in crystal eyes as large hands hastily flip you over—so fast it knocks a gasp of his name from your chest—seemingly unconcerned about the fresh blood oozing from the thin swollen welts that embellish your ass staining his thousand dollar sheets.

“Daddy needs you now,” he growls when you try to protest, breathing erratic as fingers flex on your hips, squeezing and kneading before pressing down hard, a silent order to stay fucking put. “And you’re going to be a good little girl for your Daddy now, aren’t you?”

Of course. Of course, because you are a good little girl, his good little girl.

But he’s a bad Daddy.

And, like a bad Daddy, he defers aftercare—it can wait, he practically snarls as he drags you to the edge of the bed, folding your legs up on either side of your body, knees nearly nudging your jaw; and foregoes prep almost entirely—two slender fingers slipping between your slick folds, prodding your hole and deeming you wet enough to take him.

And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t absolutely love it when he gets like this, when that façade of indifference finally shatters to pieces, replaced with desperation, with urgency, with neediness.

Your head lifts from the plush mattress, neck straining a little as you watch him push his trousers down his thighs through bleary eyes, residual dewdrops of tears clinging to spidery lashes. His cock bobs a little as he kicks the pants off, and it’s just as pretty as he is, smooth and symmetrical and perfect in every way.

“This would be part of your punishment,” he pants out, speaking over your cry of discomfort as he begins to shove his cock into you, little cunt aching as it attempts to accommodate the sudden intrusion. “If you didn’t love it so much, fucking slut,”

“Daddy!” The pet name claws its way up your throat in a yelp, hands scrabbling against his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh through his Armani button-up in an effort to steady yourself, eyes squeezing shut against the severe burn that accompanies the stretch. “Gonna—Gonna tear me in half,”

“You’d think you’d be used to this by now,” Satoru muses, voice already returning to its apathetic playful lilt now that he’s half buried in your cunt, breathing already calmed. A malicious little smirk decorates his lips and he observes you as if awestruck, one of his hands moving to trace the curve of your cheek, cold fingertips soft against your scalding skin.

“So beautiful like this,” he whispers as he finally bottoms out, hips pressed flush against the back of your thighs.

And you are, fresh tears that glitter the way his eyes do in the waning sun streaming down your cheeks, leaving the prettiest streaks of salt staining your flesh; lips swollen from merciless teeth sinking into them, an attempt to silence yourself, to keep those whines and complaints of Stop, Daddy! and Hurts, Daddy! safely stored in your throat.

Your little hole flutters around him, still struggling to adjust to his girth, and his head droops forward, long tongue unfurling from his mouth to lap at the bitter water adorning your face, slow languid strokes from your jaw to your bottom lashes, replacing shimmering tears with viscous saliva.

Saccharine sugar stings your nose, sticky toffee bathed in decadent chocolate and garnished with a touch of vanilla enveloping you in a sickly sweet embrace.

Such a scent—his scent—starkly opposes the vicious snapping of his hips, setting a merciless pace from the very start, blunt nails biting deep half-crescents into your flesh as they hold you in place.

But the pain only heightens the pleasure, contradicting sensations clashing together with every one of his brutal thrusts, cashmere feeling as rough as sandpaper against your raw, wounded ass. Thorns of pain pierce through your abdomen and shoot up your spine, back arching off the bed, and the muscles in your thighs flex and clench with every slam of his cockhead against your cervix.

It’s potent and intoxicating, a heady exhilaration clouding your brain and flooding your veins, and soon there are tears leaking from your eyes again, dribbling into your mouth and mixing with strings of drool that coat the words you’re babbling out.

Blood rushes in your ears, procuring a deafening ring, and you’re not even sure what you’re saying anymore, voice vibrating indistinctly in your chest as saliva soaked mewls ooze from your mouth. Your Daddy’s staring down at you, condescension etched into his pretty features, eyes morphing from dainty crystal to the navy of a tumultuous sea, framed by strands of cream and ivory dripping with sweat.

And he’s so big, too big, stuffing you full to the hilt with each ruthless piston of his hips, mattress trembling beneath you from the sheer strength; and it’s so much, too much, you swear you can feel him in your tummy, can see the way your lower abdomen cutely bulges in synchronization with every pounding thrust.

You must say it in some way, in some shape or some form, because the patronization varnishing his features melts away, sharp smirk dissolving into a genuine grin, blue eyes lightening with pure adoration.

“Such a good girl,” you think he’s saying, through it’s hard to tell when your eyelids keep drooping, hard to hear when a symphony of broken moans and hitched whimpers and the sharp slapping of skin against skin blanket the room, reverberating off the walls of your skull. “You’re such a good, good girl for me,”

Yes, Daddy, you want to say, such a good girl for you, only for you.

“Y-Yours,” you manage instead, locking your arms around his neck and clinging to him.

“Mine,” he growls, possessiveness lacquering his eyes, brilliant and bright and shining with devotion. “That’s right, mine,”

It only takes another three thrusts before you’re gushing all over his cock, the intense spasming of your cute little cunt drawing the prettiest whines from the back of his throat as he rams into you.

“Beg for it,” he demands, and although it’s an order, it comes out more like a plead, desperation sown into his voice. “Beg for Daddy’s cum,”

You obey immediately, words spilling from your lips without a second thought, automatic and instinctual. Please, Daddy, gimme your cum? Please, please, pretty please, want your cum, Daddy, fill my belly with it, Daddy, I need it, need it so bad, please?

He gives you what you want only a moment later, cock throbbing almost violently as he fills you with thick, scalding cream—so much that you’re sure it’s dribbling out of you, trickling down your ass and onto his pristine sheets—and you roll your hips up, attempting to milk him for more.

“G-Greedy,” he pants out, but there’s a dazzling smile slapped across his face, and so much love in his eyes it’s nearly overwhelming, a fresh wave of tears casting a gleaming shield across your own.

He notices immediately, both of you wincing a little as he pulls out, a wrecked little whine escaping your mouth.

“My poor little princess,” he’s saying as he untangles his briefs—Balenciaga, this time—from his trousers, abandoned in a heap on the hardwood.

“Daddy,” you rasp, a frown marring his face, fingers encircling your ankles as he helps you unfold your stiff legs.

“I know, I know,” he’s murmuring as gentle hands pull the soft clothing up your silky thighs. “It hurts, I know baby, Daddy’s gonna make it feel better now,”

A shiver courses through your body, and he tuts, nimble fingers making quick work of the buttons on his shirt, shrugging it off before he hoists you up and drapes it over your shoulders, tenderly threading your arms through the sleeves.

It’s cozy, and warm, infused with his scent—melted sugar and expensive cologne—and you snuggle into it, weak arms pulling the material tighter around your body, swathing it in comfort. Tears prick your eyes again, blearily blinking them clear as you glance up to find him backing away. A noise of indignance sounds in the back of your throat, eyebrows knitting together as you make grabby hands for him.

“I’ll be right back, princess,” he reassures you as he laces your fingers together and allows you to pull him back towards you, voice soothing like a lullaby. Fingers trail along the curve of your cheek then trace the line of your jaw, palms smoothing hair back from your face. “Daddy’s just going to go get the first aid kit so he can clean you up, okay?”

“‘N then food?”

He coos with a little chuckle, cupping your head as he tilts it up towards him, eyes overflowing with fondness.

“Yeah, baby, and then food. Whatever you want, it’s yours,”

Gojou Satoru may be a bad Daddy, but he is also your Daddy, and that makes him the best Daddy.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #jjk smut #OKAY I'M GOING TO BEEEED NOW #IT'S LIKE FOUR THIRTY IN THE MORNING #tw daddy kink #tw noncon

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

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Anakin and the Jedi Babies: Where There’s a Whill, There’s a Windu

Context: original post, chrono

(Summary of the AU: Disaster lineage got tossed back in time. Anakin stayed 21-ish, but Obi-Wan and Ahsoka got deaged, took new names for time-travel reasons (Ylliben and Sokanth, or Ben and Soka) and have been officially adopted by Anakin.)

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“You’re attached.”

“You’re just now noticing?”

Master Windu eyes him for a few long moments, and then joins him on the ground. Anakin can’t help but smirk. There’s something gratifying about having respect from the man, in this life.

“The other members of the council are concerned.”

“And you aren’t?”

“I am, but for other reasons,” Windu says.

Anakin doesn’t meet his eyes, doesn’t even respond for a long minute. He just looks out over the Room of a Thousand Fountains, spread out below them like hundreds of jungles pieced together in a jigsaw of flora. It’s been his favorite room in the Temple since he was a child, and it’s always overwhelming.

“Most of them have accepted that you adopted them because of Mandalorian customs, and that you stayed where you were due to the will of the Force,” Windu continues. “But they are… uncomfortable with how blatantly your attachments show.”

“Mandalorians are loud and refuse shame. It rubbed off.”

“You said you would kill for these children.”

“I’m their father. That’s kind of expected.”

Windu’s expression is tired. A little tired of stress, but mostly tired of Anakin’s shit. “You know what I’m trying to get at.”

“Do I?”

“Skywalker.”

“No, I’m serious. I need you to spell this out. I’ve had a million slightly-contradicting lectures on this topic, and I’ve been told pretty clearly that I misinterpreted a solid half of them. If you want a constructive conversation, you can’t be vague. I’m thirty-three years old and a father of two, Master Windu, so yes, I’m attached. What you mean by that word is going to change where this conversation goes.”

It’s gratifying to see the Master actually think it over.

“Ylliben’s tattoos have been causing the most recent stir,” Windu finally says. “They nearly all relate to family, whether new or old, and the symbolism is concerning to those who are already upset about the Mandalorian upbringing. They worry that he’ll remain too tied to people he grew up with, and unable to maintain neutrality in future diplomatic ventures, or at risk of a fall if one of the people he’s seen fit to memorialize is injured or killed. The assume a similar state of mind may be applicable to your daughter and yourself, especially given the off-color jokes about how possessive your children are about each other.”

“They’re worried about emotional immaturity,” Anakin summarizes. He offers a wan, unimpressed grin. “They do realize he’s fourteen, right? Nobody’s emotionally stable at fourteen. The hormones are out of whack.”

“I’m aware,” Windu grinds out. “And I’m aware that your histories, of war and all such things, make your ties much stronger, but you can see why the Council worries, especially those who are wary of the memories your children carry but won’t explain. I’m the only one you’ve told, Skywalker.”

“Plo and Depa know.”

“Plo and Depa aren’t on the council.”

“Yet.”

“Skywalker.”

He relents. “It’s not about Mandalore, Master Windu. It’s about Tatooine.”

Windu lets that sit for a few moments, and then sighs. “I don’t know enough about Tatooine to parse that.”

“Shmi and I are former slaves,” Anakin says, as bluntly as he can. “I was freed at nine, she at eleven, and for all that we are free, we’re not freeborn. We were born slaves, and raised slaves, and we were freed too late to forget that life. The way we think is always going to be affected by the way we grew up. That applies to all sentients, more or less, but it’s… the slave mentality is completely at odds with Jedi teachings, because Jedi teachings can only be taught in a safe environment.”

Windu nods slowly, and says, “That does make sense, but it’s… forgive me, but that’s why we don’t normally take children older than four.”

“From the perspective of teaching cultural values, that makes sense,” Anakin allows. “Teaching a Jedi child that’s cared for with communal resources that they do not need material things to be happy is fine; trying to convince a slave child of the same, someone who grew up being told they do not deserve material things, and that their owner can take anything at any time, including family? I lived that life, trying to adjust to ascetic Jedi values that coincided poorly with slave rules. I know exactly how poorly that transition can go when the person caring for the child doesn’t know how to handle the points of conflict.”

“Do you regret joining the Jedi?” Windu asks.

Anakin shakes his head. “My Jedi master, bless him, cared, and tried very hard, but he wasn’t ready to handle a kid like me and in hindsight, I know that. He needed grief counseling, and I needed therapy, and neither of us was getting it. I don’t… I don’t believe anyone in the Temple would have known how to handle a kid like me.”

“But you don’t regret it.”

“I was meant to be a Jedi,” Anakin says, as firmly as he can without getting unnecessarily bitchy about it. “My struggles with the Code aside, I was meant to be here. But the Temple doesn’t have any resources for children who come older, and I think… I think you do need that.”

“You just outlined why a child can’t follow the Code if they come from a different enough background,” Windu says.

Anakin shakes his head. “No, that’s not—I think a kid like me can learn to be a Jedi, if a little unconventional, if they’re taught correctly. The desperation to cling to anyone and anything you have can be unlearned. It takes time and effort, but it’s possible. Soka and Ben are good at balancing Tatooine care with Jedi control. If you talk to Ben, you get an entire philosophical breakdown about it, but I’m more concerned with the child psychology, because that’s what could have broken me.”

Windu frowns. “You’re building up to something.”

“I think the Jedi need programs for children found older who can’t become full Jedi,” Anakin asserts. “Even those who cannot reconcile what they absorbed growing up with the Code and Jedi tradition… they, we, need guidance. The Council tried to reject me for being too old, and now that I’m grown I understand why, but… Master Windu, what do you think would have happened to me if I hadn’t had my Master to fight for me, and had been turned away?”

“We’d have looked into placing you back with your mother and, upon finding out that she was still enslaved, secured her freedom,” Master Windu says. “Qui-Gon Jinn had taken responsibility for you, and thus you were a ward of the Temple until such a time as you were safe again. It would have been cruel to keep you from your mother if we were not to raise you a Jedi, and crueler still to allow you to return to slavery.”

“And you think I’d have been safe with her?” Anakin asks. He needs Master Windu to understand this. “You think that would have ended well?”

“You don’t?”

“Ventress,” Anakin says. “Maul. Aurra Sing, even.”

Windu considers that. He looks across the grand, green room of the garden, and finally speaks. “You think you’d have been found and corrupted by a Sith.”

“I’d already helped Naboo win a battle. I was a powerful child with no support system in this respect, eager to please,” Anakin says. “Ventress and Maul both got twisted into Sith Apprentices. Aurra Sing was just a bounty hunter, but… even if the Jedi had never found me, and the Sith remained unaware, do you think I’d have ended up better than Sing? Or would the pressures of slavery have led to my Fall anyway, eventually slaughtering my owner, the Hutts, the entire system of Tatooine’s hells?”

Windu rubs a hand over his forehead. “I understand what you’re getting at.”

“It’s not just me,” Anakin says, as carefully as he can. “Even without the Sith, there are plenty of Force-Sensitive children in terrible situations that are liable to Fall just because of how power is wielded by those at the bottom. Refusing to take on students who are already at risk… the Jedi are meant to monitor Force users to prevent Sith and other dark-aligned people from harming the galaxy. It’s one of our primary duties. If the Jedi are allowing darksiders to rise just because of an age limit…”

“I get it,” Windu says, just a little aggressive. “I understand. Give me a minute.”

Anakin tries to wait. He’s older now, he can do that. He can be patient.

He tries to convince himself that it’s true.

“You have a point,” Master Windu finally allows. “And with the knowledge that the Sith are out there, still, it’s a more salient point than most would think. The EduCorps already has a subdivision for teaching meditative techniques to low-level force users who need to learn shielding but aren’t sensitive enough to be Jedi, or are just too old, but I see your point about encouraging a program for powerful Force-Sensitives that aren’t discovered early enough to integrate into the community in full.”

“And a more comprehensive Search pattern for the Outer Rim?” Anakin suggests. He shrugs at the look he gets. “What? You’ve seen my midicount. I was on Tatooine for almost a decade, and the only reason anyone found me was that Qui-Gon had to crash a ship in the middle of nowhere. I’m sure the Force led him to me, given all the coincidences, but that’s still a solid nine years that nobody did, despite how I apparently ‘shine like the sun’ or whatever.”

“Humble.”

“The last time I took a midichlorian test on a portable counter, it literally broke the device. That’s not arrogance, that’s just absurd.”

Windu looks exhausted by the comment. Anakin can’t bring himself to feel too bad about it.

“What about Jedha?” Anakin suggests instead. “Jedi find the kids, but if they’re too old to be Jedi, we could coordinate with one of the temples at Jedha to see about having them raised in the traditions of the Whills? They’re a little less orthodox, aren’t they?”

“In some respects,” Master Windu says. “More constrained in others, but… it’s a possibility. Most of the overlooked children, yourself included, are from parts of the Outer Rim that aren’t part of the Republic, Skywalker.”

Anakin shrugs. “And many of them would have been happy to be found and collected by a Jedi, even if they couldn’t become Jedi. Not the Dathomiri, since they’ve got their own thing going on, but… from what I know about Ventress, she actually did have a Jedi Master before the situation on Rattatak became… what’s the word… untenable? He died and she was left alone, and she’d been a slave already and it just… did not end well for her. But that was a planet overrun by pirates and warlords, and would have been approved as a planet the Jedi could help without it being a weird colonialism thing… if the Senate weren’t made up of cheapskates, at least.”

“Skywalker.”

“My name isn’t actually a reprimand, you know.”

“You’re not supposed to just say that,” Windu groans, running a hand over his face. “The Senate’s choice in funding is not optimal, but insulting them in that way, even in private—”

“They’re assholes,” Anakin says, and doesn’t let his humor show. “Except my late wife, but she’s not part of the Senate in this time, so I feel no shame in accusing the entire shitshow of being cheapskates.”

Windu looks about ready to push him off the ledge.

“You’re never allowed to go on diplomatic missions, are you?” Windu mutters.

“Unless it’s to Mandalore,” Anakin clarifies. “Also, never send me to Tatooine. Ever. Please. I kriffing hate that planet.”

“I’m going to assume you have plans to kill a Hutt if we ever send you to—”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Windu sighs. “I’ll discuss this with the Council, see how they feel about reaching out to Jedha for your suggestion regarding the Whills.”

“And you’ll tell them not to worry about my kids?”

“Skywalker, they are never going to stop worrying about your family,” Windu tells him.

“That’s fair.”

#Anakin Skywalker #Mace Windu #Obi Wan Kenobi #time travel #de aging #Jedha #Jedi #Phoenix Posts #Anakin and the Jedi Babies

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hoedamn-eron · 2 years

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the rogue elf

You want to join Hellfire Club. It's a good job you're in with the leader.

Warnings: Brief mention of drugs. Some swearing. Not proofread. Word count: 1,227 F!Reader, no use of Y/N.

Requested by - @totallyawesomeperson

You were jealous. That was it. None of your friends wanted to play, thinking it was weird you were so into the game. You were so interested in fantasy books and loved escaping to different worlds, that this was another opportunity to try that.

If only someone would take you in.

“No.”

“Please, Eddie,” you plead. “Please let me join Hellfire Club.”

You’d known Eddie since you were kids. He was a little older than you, but his uncle and your father were good friends, and you often saw each other on the weekends. You didn’t like each other much at first, mostly pushing each other into the ground, and when you would play princes and princesses, you always ended up on top of him as he lay on the ground, beating him with a stick (your sword). Your parents and Eddie’s uncle had to pull you apart on most occasions.

You both got on better as you got older. You got your own group of friends and you didn’t need to spend as much time with the adults. But still, Hawkins was a small town, and you couldn’t really escape each other, especially when you started school and saw him in the halls in between classes. Your childhood ‘hatred’ for each other turned into well-meaning teasing and banter.

However, your hatred for Eddie was slowly coming back in this moment.

“I’m sorry princess, I can’t let you join.”

“And why not?” you asked, not even blinking at the nickname. Eddie had called it you mockingly once when he was eight, and now he used it to mostly piss you off.

“Because I need skilled players, and you’re barely a beginner.”

You scowled at him. “How am I supposed to become ‘skilled’ if no-one will let me play?”

Eddie shook his head. “I’m already down one person, I have Wheeler and Henderson looking for a replacement.”

“Then that’s perfect, I can join!”

“Princess, no.”

You glare at him as he glared back at you. You were growing more and more frustrated as the conversation went on. You didn’t know what his problem was. Why wouldn’t he let you join? Was he scared he was going to embarrass him? He was playing with literal fourteen-year-olds, you were sure they wouldn’t care. Why was he being so weird about this?

“Is it because I’m a girl?”

“Absolutely not,” Eddie replied immediately, shaking his head at you as he went around his DnD board, setting up the game that was starting in an hour.

“Then why? Are you embarrassed by me? Is it because I tease you in the hallways, because I thought that was a mutual thing – “

“Jesus, no, it’s not!”

“Then why won’t you let me join?” your close to stomping your foot like a toddler. You could feel the slow rage burning in your chest, your eyes already filling with angry tears. You will not cry over this, but you couldn’t help it, he was pissing you off. Eddie, seeing the look on your face, sighs before taking a few steps towards you, whispering your name. You shook your head, crossing your arms defiantly over your chest. “I can’t believe you, of all people, are rejecting me.”

“I’m not – “ Eddie cut himself off, closing his eyes in frustration. “I just don’t want…this game is…” he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I have a character and everything,” you said, still fighting your corner. “Rogue Elf. I know I’m only level one, but with some experience, I can improve, really!”

Eddie sighed as he dropped his hand from his nose and opened his eyes, looking at you. “No.”

You set your jaw, your gaze burning a hole in his skull. “Asshole.”

“Exactly, it’s because I’m an asshole,” said Eddie, his now own frustrated gaze on you. “I’m failing high school, again, I sell drugs on the side, I hang out with literal children, why would I want you to see me like this?”

You take a step back, shocked at his confession. Your chest tightened and your heart skipped a beat. You didn’t know that Eddie felt like that about himself. You knew these things about him, but you didn’t care. You and Eddie had been friends long before this, even when he went through his terrible buzzcut stage. He was who he was, and you wouldn’t change him for the world.

“Is that what you’re worried about?” you ask. “That I would judge you, and dislike you because of…the circumstances that have been thrown at you?”

Eddie didn’t answer. His jaw tense, he averted his gaze, turning back to the game board and fiddling with the pieces.

“Eddie, I know you.”

“I don’t want to…tarnish your reputation.”

“Eddie, come on,” you say. “It’s a game. It’s something you’re passionate about. If that taints your character or even my character, then that’s not you…that’s them.” Then you pulled a face. “Like I care what people would think of me anyway.”

Eddie snorts a laugh as he turns his head to finally look back at you, a small smile on his face. You always knew what to say, even when you were kids. You were so quick witted, and confident, and you never let anyone hold you back. You’d never judged him (apart from when he shaved his head, you’d told him he looked like a bowling ball), and you trusted him enough to come up to him and ask him to join in with his favourite thing in the world.

Eddie sighed as he looked at you. “You can play tonight, okay?”

You gasped, a large smile growing on your face. “Really?”

Eddie nodded. “Just…don’t mind my attitude, yeah? It’s a part of the game.”

You squealed excitedly, practically jumping up and down as you ran at him, wrapping your arms around him in a hug, knocking the wind out of him. Eddie breathed another laugh as he settled his arms around you, squeezing you back. He was a full head and shoulders taller than you, so you could feel him bury his face into the top of your head. You breathed in his chest; he smelled so familiar and so nice.

You pulled away, looking up at him as he looked down at you.

You stare at each other, so close that you could feel his heart beneath his chest. When did you get so close? Why was he looking at you like that? Why were you looking at him like that? You swallow nervously, going to pull away, but Eddie’s hands tightening on your waist, bringing you closer, stops you. You hold your breath at the look in his eyes. He has really nice eyes. He always has done; your mother called him Bambi, since they were so doe-like and brown.

The heavy footsteps of Gareth and Jeff making their way into the room caused the two of you to pull apart quickly, situating yourselves on opposite sides of the table, Eddie turning back to setting up the board as you watched him set up the pieces in their places.

Gareth and Jeff both greeted you before looking at Eddie with confused looks on their faces.

Eddie merely nodded at you. “She’s playing tonight. We can squeeze another, even if Wheeler and Henderson find someone.”

You smiled softly, taking a seat at the board.

#stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson #joseph quinn #eddie munson x afab!reader

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taestefully-in-luv · 3 years

Text

The Island | KTH (Fourteen)

Summary: You’re just two strangers waking up in a room on a lonely island where a company in the business of love has placed you. They believe that thanks to their in depth research you two are destined soulmates. What happens when your ‘soulmate’ and you want nothing to do with each other but falling in love is the only way to leave?

Pairing: Taehyung x Female reader

Genre: strangers to lovers, very slight enemies to lovers, soulmates au, roommate au, slow burn, fluff, smut, angst, slight crack, and drama.

Word Count: 11.2k

Warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption.

Notes: This chapter took forever for me to write but then suddenly I wrote it very quickly hahaha. Please look forward to the last arc of the story. Enjoy the chapter:) Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist, or send an ask if just want to chat about the stories!:)

Taglist: @ggukkieland @707sblog @peacedreamer14 @dopedreamfireparty @taebae19 @typicalgenzworld @mooniyooni @helenazbmrskai @justinetingball @jpeachytaev @marplest @calling-dips-on-j-hope @lecavivien @fancycollectormoon @mawwnsterr @siredsong @happyhrsme @storms-and-stars-blog @mingi-banana @soeur-de-ame

Previous---Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“A long, sweet night.”

“A long, sweet night.” You decide to repeat out loud. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Well, you know what it could mean. But there’s no way, right? You hold your phone close to your face, your features lit up with the dim blue light. Your eyes squint as you read over his text again and again.

You start to feel the crushing weight of his text, his words causing an undeniable pain in your chest. Your heart beginning to become chipped away piece by piece, each letter of his words cutting at it.

“Now you fight.”

Your mother’s words echo in your mind, her words making you grip your phone tightly in your hand. She’s right. If you don’t fight then you’re running away aren’t you? This is the point. This is the point she is talking about, this is the point where if you do nothing you are now a coward.

“You did the work honey.”

Yes, you did. Growth is forever but you’ve come a long way. You think you have done enough. You are enough. You have done so much and you deserve this, you deserve a happy ending. An ending you have worked for.

You sit at your dining room table, your phone in hand still. You finally click it off and set it down onto the wooden table, it lands with a thump but you don’t even flinch. There isn’t currently anything you can say to him. You have no response. You know that was the end of the conversation. But you know this isn’t the end. It can’t be. It won’t be.

You stand from the table and drag your feet towards the living room and head towards the couch. It’s cold when you plop down onto it, the cushion doing nothing to make you feel comforted. A long, sweet night, huh? Well, you don’t want this sweet night to end.

~~~~~~

“y/n you’ve apologized like 8 times already,” Marcus chuckles, “You don’t have to say sorry anymore.”

“I know, I know.” You bring the croissant to your mouth and take a generous bite. “I really didn’t mean to run out on you though.”

It’s early the next morning, you are treating Marcus to breakfast as a way to apologize for running out on him the night before. He’s kind and understanding as usual.

“So you ever really going to explain?” Marcus murmurs as he takes a sip of his coffee.

“Explain?” You peak over the croissant, your eyes finding his. “Explain what?”

“Come on.” He sets the coffee mug down, “Him. Tell me about the guy who…you know, has your heart or whatever.” Marcus looks down at his hands that are firmly gripping the mug, his cheeks turning a nice, soft pink.

“Oh.” You say, “That.”

Your eyes lower until they are set on the floor, you notice little things like the cracks in the tile. You finally bring the croissant back to the plate on the table, it’s half eaten state taunting you.

“Well,” your eyes find Marcus, “That’s a long story.” You admit softly.

“You gave me a very brief explanation the night I asked you out,” Marcus blinks at you, “But I don’t really understand the…depth…I guess you could say.”

“I kind of told you about the island…” That’s where you decide to start, “But I barely got into my trip to Korea.”

“Right.”

“Well, things didn’t go as smoothly as I had wanted.”

“Are you in love y/n?” Marcus turns redder than a ripe tomato. “You don’t have to an—”

“Yes.” You tell him bluntly. “I am.”

Marcus looks taken aback for a moment, his expression slightly surprised until it’s softening.

“I see. Well, it’s not like I didn’t know. But you two aren’t even talking right?”

“Right.” You admit, your breathing picking up just the slightest. “Barely, anyway.”

“He’s an idiot.” Marcus lets the words spill out between his lips.

“Why is that?”

“I just…I wouldn’t ever let…I would never let you go.” Marcus’s blush deepens as he avoids your eyes now. You can’t help but let a small somewhat pitiful smile paint itself on your lips.

“Well…” you bite down on your bottom lip, “It isn’t that easy.”

“Why not?” Marcus shakes his head. “If he really loved you—”

“Sorry Marcus.” You cut in. “But I think you are overstepping a little bit…”

Marcus scrunches his brows together.

“How so?”

“You don’t know the full story or his perspective.” You tell him, your eyes going back to the floor. “I’m not perfect in this.”

“You are perf—”

“No.” you say sternly, your hard eyes going back to his. “I’m not.”

You push the plate forward on the table, the sound of it gliding against the wood making you shiver.

“You just don’t…you don’t know what I put him through…” you say bitterly, “It wasn’t kind of me, I wasn’t perfect, I wasn’t the best, I wasn’t a lot of things. But I have accepted that and moved forward with that.” You tell him honestly.

“Shouldn’t he try harder…if he loves you?” Marcus raises his voice just the slightest, “If.”

“I don’t know how he feels anymore.” You feel yourself grow tired from this conversation, “But it doesn’t change things.”

“Sorry y/n.” Marcus looks down at his hands again. “I shouldn’t…I shouldn’t have brought this up—”

“I talked to him last night.” You blurt out. “I want to see him. I want to try.”

“But why?” Marcus is growing tired as well. It’s clear he isn’t seeing things the way you do.

“Because he’s my soulmate.”

~~~~~~~

You lay on your stomach, the soft feeling of your bed making you feel so warm. Your phone is in your hands as you struggle to press the ‘call’ button. It shouldn’t be such a big deal, it’s just Yuna yet you are having a hard time.

“Come on y/n.” you whisper to yourself. “Come on.”

You nibble on your lips, waiting for your fingers to find the courage to press the god damn button. It shouldn’t be this hard, no. If it’s meant to be it should be easy.

You press the ‘call’ button and wait not so patiently as it rings and rings on speaker. She’s taking too long, you think. Then finally—

“y/n!!!” Yuna exclaims loudly, her voice booming throughout your small room. “What’s up girl!”

“Yuna…” you hesitate to say her name, “Your birthday…two weeks…”

“Yes?” She tilts her head to the side through the camera. “It is?”

“Is that offer still on the table?” you gulp. “For my flight.”

“Huh? You mean to fly you out here for my b-day?”

“Yeah…” You gulp again, “If it’s okay—”

“Wait!” Yuna yells out with an excited smile, “Jiwoo, get over here!!!!”

“Jiwoo is with you too?” You can’t help the small smile. “You should have said something.”

“Jiwoo! y/n wants to come for my birthday!”

“What???” Jiwoo’s voice is heard, “Eh?”

“y/n..” Yuna points the camera at her mouth, her lips curving into a wide smile. “You really want to come here?”

You nod your head eagerly, a timid expression on your face.

“I do. I want to see you and celebrate you, of course…but I also…” your words get quieter and quieter as you speak.

“You want to see him, don’t you?” Yuna asks softly, “I’m rooting for you.”

“Me too!” Jiwoo says with her fist in the air, “You got this!”

“Guys.” You whine cutely, “Thanks.”

You chat with your friends for a little while longer, you tell them all about Taehyung’s song and his words to you through text.

“It’s definitely not the end girl.” Yuna pouts, “You guys still have so much more to give…”

“It sounds like your mom really came through too…” Jiwoo points out, “She makes a good point.”

“Yeah,” you agree easily, “I just have to figure out where Taehyung stands in all of this.” You look down at the duvet that covers your bed. “I’m going to really put myself out there but there is a chance I will be rejected.” You tell them with a softness in your voice. “He is moving forward and that could really mean without me.”

“I hate to admit it but I think you are right.” Jiwoo murmurs, “He’s really put a lot of effort to move past everything.”

“I know.” You bite down on your lip, just hard enough that you feel something. “I know.”

“But don’t lose you momentum girl!” Yuna cheers you on, “He’s going to lose his mind when he sees you.”

“You think so?” You laugh lightly. “I think I might be the one who loses my mind.”

You swing your legs in the air back and forth until you lay them down on your bed. You nibble on your lips again as you think about it, seeing him. “Yeah. I’m going to lose it.” You laugh again.

“He hasn’t RSVP’d to my party yet…I’ll ask him about it this week when we all go out.” Yuna tells you with a tiny smile on her lips. “I won’t say anything about you coming.”

“Thanks…I’ll tell him myself.”

You finally bid farewell to your friends, clicking the end button on your screen and setting your phone down on your cozy bed. You’re really doing this. This is really happening. Does he really believe you two were just ships in the night? Was your time together really just the equivalent of a long, sweet night?

You roll off your bed and head towards your desk, you pull out your rolling chair and take a seat. Your desk is covered in papers from work, your journal, small decorations, a pile of glittery gel pens and a half drank Starbucks drink. It’s kind of a mess. You decide to clean up a bit and then take your journal and a purple glitter pen and start writing.

“Time and timing is everything in this universe. Everything pans out the way it’s meant to…I do believe that. I have to believe that. I have to have that kind of faith. But I can’t just stand by and let the universe do all the work, can I? I should put some level of effort too…right? Is time in my hands?”

You stop writing, the pen staying still, bleeding its purple ink into your paper. Is time in your hands? You bring the pen to your lips and chew on the end, your teeth digging into the plastic.

“Is it?” you repeat out loud.

~~~~~

Wow, you haven’t felt this nervous in a while. Your nerves are absolute killers right now. They are shaking you to your death and throwing you over a cliff, they are slapping you in the face repeatedly, they are making you feel so completely helpless.

Your hand trembles furiously as you hold your stupid phone, your whole body is vibrating in terror. You fly out in the morning and you haven’t told Taehyung that you are going to Korea yet. He has no idea that you two will be breathing the same air soon. You try your hardest to take a few deep breaths but you fall short, your breathing quick and sharp instead.

The boys promised not to say anything and you’re counting on it. Jimin is on the verge of tears from his excitement, he’s been waiting for you to visit for the past year. Jungkook is anticipating your arrival as well, his bunny grin imprinted in your mind when you told them you for sure were going. The rest of the guys cheered and sent you a million texts about how happy they are. Everyone knows about your upcoming arrival…everyone but him.

After staring at his message thread for what seems like an eternity you finally decide to chicken out. You click your phone off and throw it on your sofa, it slides against the cushions and somehow falls between the cracks. But you don’t care. You’re happy your phone is out of sight.

You decide to take a walk in the city, the evening air is brisk and the sky is glowing in pinks and purples. You tug your jean jacket closer together as you walk through a cool breeze, it feels nice actually. Like you can breathe again. Your phone is still lost between your couch cushions and you couldn’t feel happier about it.

You decide to stroll around until you find yourself at Cozy Coffee, the shop making you feel welcomed and at home. You head to the counter and order a latte, the warm drink making you melt into some slightly pathetic puddle. Only pathetic because at the end of the day you know you are just avoiding what you must do. But somehow you approve. You just want to enjoy this evening before your trip to Korea. You have no idea what this trip might hold. You have no idea of the experiences you will encounter. You just really have no idea.

You sip on your latte in the corner of the shop, your mind starting to ease as you down your drink. Are you really prepared for this? Are you ready to face him? To be honest, you haven’t even thought about what you might say…you just know the first step is seeing him. Face to face.

You finally head back to your apartment, the sky now lit up by the illuminating moon, guiding you on your path. You feel relaxed again, the moon giving you peaceful energy. You know this feeling is only temporary so you try to embrace it.

Your apartment is chilly inside, the air matching the air from outside. You head towards the thermostat and turn it up a few degrees. You rub your arms in attempt to warm yourself as you head towards you sofa, you look at it with disdain as you remember your phone hiding in its cushions.

You take a deep breath and lift one of the cushions up and search for the damned thing. Your hand finds it and you throw it on the other side of the sofa as you place the cushion back in its place. You finally take a seat and reach for your phone, you take another deep breath as you click it on, seeing you have a missed called from Jimin and also your mother.

You decide to call your mom first, you video chat her right away, waiting for her to answer.

“Hi sweetie.” Your moms voice comes through your phones speaker. “I tried calling a little while ago.”

“Sorry…” you mumble lamely. “What’s up?”

“I know you leave for your trip tomorrow and just wanted to see how you were doing.”

Your mouth opens a little…like you are going to speak but really it’s just from the pleasant surprise you are feeling from your mothers words. The past couple of weeks you two have been chatting more and more.

“I feel…” you feel your body tense, you try to take a deep breath but it feels mostly impossible. “Mom.” Your bottom lip begins to tremble, “I’m scared.”

“Things like this are scary honey.” She breathes out, her eyes soft and on you. “But you aren’t living life unless you are taking leaps of faith.”

“There is a strong chance he won’t want me.” You tell her, your breaths shaky. “Can I handle that?”

“Honey…” Your mom closes her eyes for a second before they’re back on you. “You can handle anything. I believe that. I know in the past…it might not have seemed that way but you’ve grown so much. You are so strong y/n. And I know you want to make things work…” she pauses as you try to calm your breathing, you are trying not to cry. “But…” your mother continues, “But you are complete on your own too. And you will find some epic love or whatever no matter with who. You deserve it so therefore you will have it.”

“He’s my love, mom.” You finally feel your eyes wet with tears. “He’s been my biggest supporter this whole journey and he doesn’t even know it.”

“Well y/n.” your mom exhales through her nose as she smiles for you, “It sounds like you have an important mission for this trip. I hope you really convey your feelings and most importantly…I hope you listen as well. Really listen. Listen to his thoughts and feelings too and be considerate.” She softly advises you. “Communication really is key.”

“I know…” you sniffle.

“Did you know…” your mother hesitates to continue, she exhales a long breath before setting her lips in a firm line. “Your father and I were close to divorcing around the time you were born.”

“Wait what?” you blink at the screen, feeling caught off guard.

Your mother slowly nods her head and closes her eyes.

“We just…didn’t feel like we were on the same page anymore. I didn’t know what he was thinking anymore and he had no idea what was going on in my mind either.”

You pull your brows together as you listen intently, your mom’s words making you feel a little anxious.

“We just didn’t click anymore, it felt like. We were struggling financially at the time and you were…an unexpected surprise. It truthfully further strained our marriage…” she tells you honestly. “But we loved you so much. It was the only thing holding us together.”

“How did you work things out?” you ask quietly.

“We talked. Really talked. I remember we went out on the patio after we put you girls to sleep and we just finally looked at one another and knew we had to have…you know, an important discussion.” She takes a moment to breathe evenly. “I finally let it all out…I told him about how lonely I had been feeling, I told him how I missed him…he was working a lot you know…I told him I just wasn’t happy anymore.”

You feel your heart ache a bit at her words, you never knew this about your parents.

“He ended up crying…nodding his head over and over and telling me he knows how I feel. Because he was feeling it too. The disconnect was hurting the both of us.”

“I had no idea…” you admit, still sniffling. “You and dad always seemed so…okay, all the time.”

“We didn’t want you girls to ever worry. Your father and I have shared bumps in the road but we found a way to cope. We expressed ourselves honestly, the vulnerability creating a closeness I cannot even begin to describe.”

“So you are saying…me and Taehyung—”

“You need to share everything…really everything. This is how you truly move forward.”

“Thanks for sharing that stuff about you and dad…”

“I want to help any way I can honey.” She smiles a smile you rarely see on her, it brings you automatic comfort. “Get some rest and let me know when you land. Goodnight.”

You agree and say your goodbyes to your mom as you both hang up. You sit on your couch still sniffling as you think deeply about what your mother shared with you.

After a few minutes you decide to clean your face with your sleeve and call Jimin back. The ringing only goes on for a second or two before he’s picking up.

“He isn’t going.” Jimin huffs on the video chat. “Said he isn’t in the mood to party.”

“Huh?” you blink at Jimin a few times before you’re realizing. “Oh.”

“You need to tell him you’re coming then maybe he will change his mind…”

“Yeah y/n!” You hear Jungkook yell over the phone, “tell him already! It’s killing me keeping this from him.”

“Well, first of all, hi guys.” You wave at the camera. “Second…” you chew on your lips. A horrible habit of yours, you know. “I will tell him when I get there.” You mumble.

“Oh my god, are you fucking kidding?” You hear Jungkook groan. “Just do it now.”

“Chill!” Jimin scolds Jungkook, “But he’s kind of got a point y/n…”

“Trust me…just let me tell him when I get there. Also, Jimin.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re sure it’s fine that I stay with you?” you look into his eyes through the camera and you see his thick lips curve into a wonderful grin.

“Of course my bff.”

“I want to stay over here too…” Jungkook grumbles, he finally shows himself on screen. “We can all have like a …slumber party or whatever.” His eyes slide to the side as he grows red with embarrassment.

“A slumber party?” Jimin begins to tease, “What are you, a 12 year old girl?”

“I happen to like the slumber party idea.” You nod your head approvingly.

“Seriously though y/n.” Jungkook’s eyes find yours. “Tell him you’re coming.”

“I will, I will.” You wave him off, “I’ll send a text before I fall asleep or something. Happy?”

“Yeah, a bit.” He smirks at you. “Right, Jimin?”

“Yeah.” Jimin grins again, “I’m really hoping for the best, girl.”

“Me too guys…me too.”

You double check to make sure you’ve packed everything for your week long trip, you then triple check just to be sure. You feel anxious again but somehow you feel okay at the same time. You think the talk you had with your mom kind of helped you.

You had no idea she and your father shared such “bumps in the road” as she had mentioned. Is talking it out really such a magical solution? Will you and Taehyung really be able to share everything…like everything, everything?

You take one huge deep breath as you pull your phone out…you find Taehyung’s name and begin writing your text.

y/n 9:04pm

I’ll be in korea for Yuna’s birthday. Will I see you there?

You quickly click your phone off and toss it to your bed and squeal. Yes, squeal. You finally did it. Now you wait for a response.

It’s 6 am and you are sitting on your flight waiting for takeoff, you stare at your screen as you see the fact that Taehyung read your message several hours ago. He left you on read. You could honestly throw up. You’re anxious all over again.

~~~~~~~

“You belong here!” Jimin is squeezing you so hard it’s almost crushing your very bones. “Just move here already.” He whines into your neck as he continues to embrace you. “Please.”

“My turn…” Jungkook huffs, “I said my turn!”

“Patience, brat.” Jimin teases as he leans away from you, his hands still on your arms. “So how was your flight?”

“You’re really going to try to have a whole conversation with her before I get to hug her? Really dude?” Jungkook shoves Jimin to the side before his arms wrap around you. You return his hug with your own arms circling his tiny waist.

“You missed me, Jungkook?” you inhale his scent, he smells of fresh laundry.

“Whatever.” He grumbles with a toothy grin. “So,” he pulls away from you and gestures you to come inside Jimin’s place. “How was the flight?”

“Long as hell. I’m glad to finally be here.” You walk through, setting your luggage in his walkway. “And I am so damn hungry.”

“Well, we can definitely order some food.” Jimin cheeses, “How does that sound?”

“Sounds perfect.” You take your shoes off and walk further into Jimin’s home. “Smells good in here.” You comment nonchalantly.

“I lit some candles before you got here.” Jimin scratches the back of his neck, “Wasn’t sure if you would like the scent so I blew them out.”

“No, no. I like it.” You find your way into his living room, his black leather sofas taking up much of the space. You find a spot near the window and take a seat.

“So, did you even tell Taehyung? We saw him earlier today and he didn’t say anything so I am assuming you didn’t tell him.” Jungkook says with a serious tone.

“Actually I did.” You pick at your nails, but raise your head as to not look bothered.

“Wait…really? He didn’t say anything?” Jimin questions with the tilt of his head.

“He left me on read.” You say as plainly as possible. “Guess he doesn’t want to see me.”

“He…he left you on…” Jungkook looks over at Jimin, their eyes meeting with curiosity. “But he….?”

“Yup.” You go back to picking at your nails, trying your best once again to look unbothered.

“Well!” Jimin claps his hands together, “What should we eat?”

A few hours pass, night time quickly approaching. You, Jimin and Jungkook wait for Yuna and Jiwoo to arrive at Jimin’s place. You three drinking soju, giggling while resting on the sofas when you hear knocking on Jimin’s front door.

Jimin hurries to answer when you hear the voices of your two friends echoing lightly throughout the place. Yuna appears first, she rushes to your spot on the couch, jumping on you and quickly embracing you. You can’t help but laugh out loud, inhaling her sweet, sweet scent as you two hug one another. Jiwoo joins you both by sitting next to you and wrapping her arms around you.

“H-Hi Jiwoo.” Jungkook quickly stands up when Jimin is coming to his side and nudging his shoulder.

“And Yuna.” He reminds him with his teasing voice.

“Right.” Jungkook clears his throat. “And Yuna. Hi.”

“Hey.” Jiwoo replies cooly, “You guys started drinking without us?”

“You guys took too long!” You slur happily. “We only have had a little, little.” You show her how little with your pointer finger and thumb.

“Sure Miss Drunkie.” Jiwoo laughs, “Yuna I think you can let her breathe now.”

“One more minute!” Yuna rubs her face on your shoulder as she continues to hug you. “Missed my y/n!”

“Yuna!” you giggle. “You have 5 more seconds!”

“Fine.” Yuna pouts dramatically, pulling off you. She sits on your other side and smiles up at you. Her hair is still a pale pink and her eyeshadow is a glittery art work. You look over at Jiwoo with her jet black hair, it’s gotten even longer.

“It’s good to see you guys.” You chirp, “And oh my god, two more days until your birthday!” you point at Yuna excitedly.

“I can’t believe your dad is letting you have your birthday party at the Mondrian.” Jimin takes a seat on the other sofa with Jungkook. “That place is so nice.”

“I’m spoiled.” Yuna sings, “So spoiled!”

“At least she admits it.” Jiwoo deadpans.

You start giggling some more, reaching for another shot of soju. You down it back and smack your lips in satisfaction.

“Yummy!” you sway into Yuna and Jiwoo. “You guys want to play a game?”

“Like what?” Jungkook asks. “I think Hobi said he wants to swing by.”

“Oh! Yay.” You chirp happily, “Can the rest of the guys not make it?”

“We’re meeting with everyone tomorrow Miss impatient.” Jimin takes his own shot of soju.

“But I want to see everyone now.” You jut your lip out. “Jungkook!” you stand up and stumble to where he’s seated. “Call em and tell em to come here. Now.” You plop down next to him. “Pretty please.” You lean into his shoulder and smile for him. Jungkook turns nice and rosy before he’s lightly pushing you away.

“You have to wait y/n.” he reminds you, avoiding your intense gaze.

“Jungkookie.” You whine, “I said pretty please.”

“Wow, she is drunk.” Jiwoo chuckles, “I love it.”

“Same.” Jimin’s eyes turn to crescents as he grins. “She is so…free.” He says quieter, “She’s changed so much.”

“Jungkookie!” You lean into his space again, your big eyes blinking up at him over and over until he’s groaning.

“Fine!” he throws his hands up, “Who should we call first?”

You end up calling the rest of the guys and chatting for a while, your drunken state only worsening. But it’s nothing but a good time. Jimin ends up tucking you in his kind size bed, he brushes the hair out of your face and watches you fondly as you snore in your sleep. He’s so proud of you. Jungkook walks into the bedroom as well and he shares a knowing look with Jimin and Jimin’s smile fades into a frown.

“Want to have a beer on the patio?” Jungkook nods towards outside the room.

“Sure.” Jimin takes one last look at you before he’s leaving you to sleep. Jimin and Jungkook walk past the sofa where Yuna and Jiwoo are knocked out, cuddling each other for warmth. They make their way outside and take their seats on the patios chairs.

“So.” Jungkook pinches his brows together, “He didn’t say anything to us.”

“I know.” Jimin’s frown only deepens. “He’s probably taking his time to process her arrival, you know?”

“Is it that simple?” Jungkook brows pull together even further. “He’s doing so well and maybe he…”

“He just needs time Jungkook. I know him.”

“I know him too Jimin and he acted like she didn’t reach out to him? That’s not…I don’t know, concerning to you?”

Jimin stares straight ahead, bringing his beer to his lips. He takes a few gulps before facing Jungkook.

“Yeah.” He admits. “It is.”

The next morning is horrific, the hangover you have is probably literally killing you. Your head is absolutely pounding and your body feels weak. But you have to admit the sheets in this bed feel amazing so you are tempted to stay here forever—or at least until this killer hangover disappears.

“y/n. It’s like 2pm.” You hear Jungkook’s voice hammer in your ears. “Get up!”

“Nooooooo.” You groggily whine, pulling the sheets up over your head. “Want to stay here forever.”

“Brought you some water girl.” Jimin’s angelic voice is heard, he’s gently pulling the sheets down and exposing your tired as hell face.

“Drink it slowly.” He sweetly advises, “And here’s some pain killers.” He hands you two pills and you eye him up before taking them gratefully.

“Thanks…” you murmur. “Holy hell, soju is no joke.”

“Yeah.” Jungkook laughs. “But you hung in there!”

“Where are Yuna and Jiwoo?” you pop the pills in your mouth and drink back some water. The refreshing beverage already making you feel a little more alive.

“They left hours ago!” Jungkook continues to laugh, “You slept through it.”

“Damn.” You grumble, “Wait!” you suddenly raise your head up. “Aren’t the guys getting here at 3 today?”

“Yes.” Jimin smiles, “So maybe you want to shower….and get ready.”

“O-Okay.” You agree, you pull the sheets back off your body and rise from the bed, the room starts to slightly spin and you whine. “I am not drinking this much ever again!”

“You say that now. But Yuna’s party is open bar so.” Jungkook winks.

You gag just at the thought of drinking more alcohol. You drag your feet towards Jimin’s bathroom and your hand reaches for the shower knob and you turn it on, letting the water warm up.

“Okay, I’ll get ready! You two shoo.”

The shower is exactly what you needed, the warm water making you feel relaxed and comfortable. You’re grateful that Jimin is letting you stay at his place for a whole week…you really wish you saw them more often. You really wish you lived here sometimes.

You admittedly love it here…you enjoy your life back home too, don’t get it wrong but something about this place that feels so fitting.

“Almost done in there?” You hear Jimin softly knock on the bathroom door. “Jin says they’re on the way.”

“Be right out!” you call back out. “Almost done.”

You take a look in the mirror and you think to yourself about how nicely you clean up. You got some ripped jeans and a black long sleeve shirt, some light make up and two clips in your hair. You look cute as hell actually.

“Okay. Time to see my friends.” You give yourself an awkward thumbs up in the mirror before you’re chuckling. “Should I practice my Korean on them?” you ask out loud. Then you nod your head and give yourself another thumbs up before you step out of the bathroom, walk through Jimin’s room and enter the living room.

“About time lady!” Jungkook snickers, “What the hell were you doing in there?”

“You shouldn’t ask a girl that!” Jimin swats Jungkook’s arm. “Feeling better y/n?”

“Loads!” you walk towards them and find a place on the couch. “Are they almost here?”

Suddenly, there’s excessive knocking on the front door. You three whip your heads in the direction and you jump up in delight. You race Jungkook to the door and swing it open and as soon as you do so many arms are reaching out to hold you.

“y/n!!!!” Hobi is the first to wrap his arms around you so tightly, he sways your bodies back and forth. “I missed you so much.” He finally lets go when Jin is automatically pulling you into his chest.

“Your favorite one is here now.” He jokes as he squeezes your smaller body.

“Uh have you guys ever stayed up all night on the phone sharing writing tips for hours? I don’t think so.” You hear Namjoon say teasingly. “Come here you.” He’s dragging your arm until your body is being engulfed by his. “About time you visited.”

“Hey, we don’t have any say on y/n’s timing to come here. What matters is that she is here now.” Yoongi stands to the side, waiting for his turn. “But I would like a hug too.” He smiles that gummy smile and you giggle. You leave Namjoon to give Yoongi a tight embrace, he rocks your bodies back and forth before he’s letting go altogether.

“Good to see you y/n.” he says.

“You too. All of you.” You look at the boys, “You have no idea how much I missed you guys. Talking through the phone just isn’t enough, is it?”

“You could always move here.” Hobi offers with a teasing smile. “But you know that already.”

“She does know that!” Jungkook yells over the chatter. “But she’s a scaredy cat.”

“Hey.” You pout towards Jungkook. “Am not.”

“Then move here.” Jimin gives you his best sly smile, “You can live with me.”

“As tempting as that sounds,” you giggle, walking into the kitchen with the guys following behind you.

“Ah y/n, I think your phone is ringing.” Jin points towards the device on the counter. “Should I answer it?”

You raise your brows and head to the counter to see who is calling. Marcus.

“Oh hold on, let me take this.” You announce to everyone before answering your phone,

“Hello?”

“Hey. Just wanted to check in on you.” You hear Marcus’s raspy voice on the other end. “How is it?”

“Good, good. The flight was good. I’ve just been hanging with everyone. Actually I’m with everyone now…can we talk later?” you mumble into the phone.

“Oh.” Marcus chuckles, “Sure. Call me later?”

“Yeah.” He hears the smile in your voice. “I’ll call you later.” And then you’re quickly hanging up, bringing the phone back to the counter. It’s oddly quiet in the house.

“What?” You ask with big eyes, blinking at everyone. They all give you a curious look before you scoff.

“He’s just a friend.” You say sternly. “So stop whatever ideas your guys are all getting in your silly little heads.”

“Just friends….” Namjoon nods his head slowly. “Right.”

“I’m serious.”

“She’s ‘serious’ mhm.” Jungkook nods his head mockingly. “Right.”

“I am!” you groan, “Seriously.”

“She said they’re just friends, guys.” Yoongi puts a hand on your shoulder, “Right?”

“Right.”

“Right.” Jin nods his head quickly.

“Right.” Hobi gives you a thumbs up before he’s giving you one of his signature grins.

“Well,” Jimin comes up to you and reaches for your hand and squeezing it, “y/n is here guys. Let’s make the most of this week. Tomorrow is Friday, aka Yuna’s extravagant birthday ball and we have a lot of catching up to do.”

~~~~~~~

You lay in bed after a long day of hanging with your friends, your phone up to your face as you stare at the screen that mocks you. He read your message and just…never replied. You are trying your best to feel okay but now that you lay alone you start to feel the loneliness creep up. Does he not want to see you? Is he afraid to see you?

You exit your message threads and go to your photos…you find the selfies from your date and you stare and stare at the screen. He’s so strikingly handsome. You feel your chest tighten as you continue to gaze at the photos, you feel your heart squeeze in your chest. Suddenly there is knocking on the bedroom door and Jimin is walking in…you’re quick to click your phone off and pretend you just weren’t staring at the man you love.

“Hey.” Jimin greets you softly. “You still awake?”

“Yeah…” you turn over to face him, you scoot over and pat the spot next to you and he takes the invitation to slide in the sheets.

“How are you doing?” Jimin asks suddenly, his tone is warm and comforting and you almost burst into tears at his question but instead you clear your throat and nod your head a few times.

“Good.” you lie.

“y/n…” Jimin breathes out slowly, “Really. How are you?” his eyes are full of fucking pity and it’s driving you to feel like a god damn burden.

“I said I’m good.” But your voice cracks, and he’s already pulling you into his chest.

“y/n…” he holds you tight as you try to even out your breathing. “I talked to him today.”

“He’s…” you hiccup, “He’s going to come. I know it.” You say into Jimin’s chest. “I know it. Even if he doesn’t reply to me, he’s going to go to the party.”

“…He…said he isn’t going.” Jimin tells you regretfully. “He seemed pretty serious.”

“No.” you sniffle now, “He’s going.” You feel your eyes sting as you try to blink back growing tears. “He’s going.” You repeat pathetically.

“Okay, okay.” Jimin begins rubbing your back. “Okay.”

“I just need a chance Jimin.” You hiccup again, “A chance to show him that I…” your breathing picks up even more, your sharp breaths concerning Jimin.

“Just relax…” He continues to rub your back, “I’m here.”

“Jimin…” your voice cracks again but this time because of a quiet sob that finally breaks through. “I miss him so much.” You cry.

“I know girl.” His soft voice making you feel comforted. “I’m holding onto hope too.” He tells you, his tender tone only making you cry harder.

“Fuck…” you sob into his chest. “I miss him so fucking much.”

You eventually fall asleep in Jimin’s arms after you spent some time crying it out. Jimin has a hard time knocking out, his mind too busy with thoughts of you and Taehyung.

“You look absolutely gorgeous.” Jimin has stars in his eyes as he looks at you, “Right, Jungkook?” he hits Jungkook’s arm and Jungkook awkwardly clears his throat.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Thanks guys.” You tug on the material over your stomach and frown. “Are you sure though? This dress looks fine on me?”

“Absolutely. Gorgeous.” Jimin repeats. “Stunning.”

“He’s right.” Jungkook shrugs. “You do look nice. Or whatever.”

“Fine, I guess I will have to believe you two. You also look nice.” You gesture towards the two men in suits. “This is about to be super fancy isn’t it?” you pinch your brows together as you chuckle. “Yuna really went all out.” You look up at the building. The Mondrian is a beautiful hotel, very luxurious. You three step through the rotating doors and enter the main building.

“She can go all out when she’s got daddy’s money.” Jungkook big doe eyes look around him, he’s in awe of the hotel, that much is clear.

“Should we find the conference room and find the bar and you know, start drinking?” your eyes scan around, noticing all the people dressed up walking to the elevators. “She said it’s on the 3rd floor right?”

“What happened to no more drinking?” Jungkook nudges your shoulder. “But hell yeah, let’s go.”

“I second that.” Jimin links arms with you and Jungkook, leading the way towards the elevators.

You three find the conference room and your eyes grow twice their size. This room is huge, many tables set up, people dancing to loud music, the bar is poppin with lines of people waiting for a free drink, it’s beyond what you imagined.

“y/n!!!” You hear the high pitched voice of no other than Yuna. She looks so beautiful it actually feels blinding. Her deep green gown, her pale pink hair, her subtle yet gorgeous make up. She looks like a fairy princess. Jiwoo follows closely behind, a bold, blue dress with her hair pinned up. She looks like a model out of a magazine.

“You look amazing.” Yuna points at you, her eyes full of genuine surprise. “Like, what the heck?” she looks you up and down, her hands motioning towards your body.

“This dress is so…” She blinks at you repeatedly, “Do a turn for me!”

You giggle, feeling a bit shy but you do a little twirl. Yuna pretends to faint.

“AND IT’S BACKLESS?! You’re killing me!” she yells out dramatically. “Jiwoo are you seeing this?!” “You do look so pretty.” Jiwoo chuckles. “Yuna, can you ever compliment someone more normally?”

“You like the way I compliment.” Yuna raises her head up. “You know it’s true.”

“You literally pretended to have a heart attack when you saw me tonight.” Jiwoo deadpans, “who does that?”

“Girls who recognize real beauty.” Yuna states matter of fact. “And girl, you are beautiful.”

“Shush.” Jiwoo’s cheeks begin to heat up, you can’t help but giggle at the interaction.

“You both look lovely.” You tell them sincerely. “And happy birthday Yuna.” You lean in for a hug, its tight and quick and you’re pulling away much faster than Yuna’s liking,

“Thanks girl.” She smiles for you. “You really do look so nice y/n…are you hoping to see T—”

“Yuna.” Jiwoo warns, “Let’s get a drink?”

“Yeah, let’s do that.” You say, “Where did Jimin and Jungkook go?” you finally notice they’re absence.

“Probably to their table. With the rest of the guys.” Yuna tells you while she starts leading you girls towards the open bar. “Shots?” She smirks towards you two. “It’s my birthday so you can’t say no.”

“Fine. But you’re trying to kill me.” You laugh, “I’m going easy tonight.”

“One shot.” Yuna pouts cutely, “But you!” She points at Jiwoo. “You have to take two with me.”

“Fine by me.” Jiwoo shrugs. We both know between the two of us, it’s me who’s taking care of you and your drunk ass tonight.”

“Counting on it.” Yuna blows Jiwoo a kiss.

“Ugh, let’s do this.”

You girls wait for the shots, taking them quickly once they’re in your hands. The burn is exactly what you needed to loosen up. You’re nervous tonight. You’re anticipating Taehyung’s arrival. Yes, he never replied to you. Yes, he told Jimin he wasn’t coming. But you feel it in your bones…he’s coming tonight. He wants to see you as bad as you want to see him. At least that’s what you are hoping for.

“You’re too good of a dancer Hobi, I can’t keep up with you!” you whine loud enough for him to hear you over the music.

“You’re doing great!” he tells you, his hands on your waist. “Just move to the music girl!”

“Easier said than done.” You laugh loudly, “Hey, what time is it?”

“Hm..” Hobi lifts his left wrist to look at his watch. “Almost 12.” He tells you.

It’s almost 12? And he’s still not here? No, you know he’s coming. He has to. He will. You feel your chest close in on you, and your heart thumping wildly. You know you’re going to see him tonight. You know it. You excuse yourself and head towards the doors of the conference room. You walk past Jimin who suddenly frowns as he realizes you’re heading out the doors, he tries calling out for you but you ignore him. He doesn’t think Taehyung is going to show up.

But you know.

You stand in the hallway in front of the elevators for who knows how long, you shift from one foot to the other as you wait anxiously. The party is still going hard, but you’ve tuned it all out. The only thing you hear is Taehyung’s deep voice. It plays in your mind, him saying something as simple as your name. You wish you were hearing it for real. You hear the ding of the arriving elevator and go rigid.

The sharp intake of breath your weak body just sucked in has you feeling tense. You knew you were going to see him…you knew this was going to happen but here you are, trying so hard to even out your breathing as you await his arrival. No amount of journaling could calm you, relax you, give you a sense of peace. No amount of alcohol could make you feel looser.

“Jimin just told me…” Yuna catches up to you, out of breath. “y/n…” your name leaves her mouth with pity, “I don’t think he’s going to come.”

“He will.” You say, standing your ground outside the elevator. “He will.”

“At least wait inside…” She gestures towards the conference room, where the party is. “It looks lonely waiting out here.”

Your eyes fall to the tiled floor, the shiny cream colored squares showing a vague reflection of yourself. Maybe it is lonely.

“Okay…” You turn around to face Yuna, a tired smile working itself on your lips. “Let’s dance?”

“Yeah.” She offers a drunk smile.

Then you hear the elevator doors opening, you whip your head in the direction of the doors but inside is only unrecognizable faces.

“Let’s go.” You tell her, trying your best not to feel so disappointed.

You both walk into the room again, the music blaring and the sight of sweaty bodies grinding against one another.

“I need a drink.” You take a deep breath before heading towards the bar. You find yourself downing shot after shot.

“Hey, slow down.” Jungkook’s voice cuts in through the booming music. “Don’t want you to like, throw up.”

“Hey Jungkook…?” You hand him your drink, getting it away from you. “You’re always straight up…”

“Don’t do this.” Jungkook warns you softly, “Not now.”

“Is Taehyung—”

“Is Taehyung…what?” A new voice cuts in, a voice you know all too well. It’s deep, deeper than the fucking ocean. It’s smooth, its charming, You feel your breath get caught in your throat as your ears process the voice they heard. You struggle for a moment, but you finally tilt your head to the side and your eyes narrow at the tall figure.

“Am I what?” he repeats.

Finally, a small gasp leaves your lips as your eyes widen in genuine shock. You knew he would come tonight yet somehow you are as surprised as Jungkook next to you. You don’t notice but Jungkook nods his head towards Taehyung and walks away, leaving you two.

“T-Taehyung…?” you blink over and over, not believing your eyes. “What are you—”

“I’m here to see you.” He tells you bluntly. “And my god woman, you are a sight for sore eyes.” He all but whispers, his expression stiff as he eyes you.

“Taehyung.” You release the shakiest breath as you repeat his name.

“Hi y/n.”

You straighten yourself, trying to show off the fact that you aren’t totally drunk. You look all around the slightly spinning room and search for faces you know. Finally, your eyes lock with Jimin’s. He looks worried but he quickly tries to smile for you. You look panicked to say the least. The room is crowded, loud, hot and sweaty. But all of that fades away when the scent of Taehyung fills your nostrils. You take a second to notice he has stepped forward until he is right in front of you.

“y/n.” he says your name as a command. Your frantic eyes find his and you feel the whole room freeze.

Taehyung studies you, his focused eyes scanning every inch of your body. You watch as he lifts a hand and reaches behind you. Then suddenly you are feeling light fingertips tracing your down your spine. His fingers barely skid across your exposed skin and you slowly close your eyes at the contact. Your breathing slowing as well.

Taehyung’s fingers glide back up your back, his touch so light like he almost wasn’t even touching you. His serious expression beginning to soften as he brings his hand back to his own body.

“This dress is like the one you wore on the island.”

“You like it.” You whisper.

“Yes.” He admits, you two gaze into one another’s eyes until he finally looks off to the side.

“Should we talk?” he asks you, “Or are you too drunk?”

“No, no.” you shake your head, “Let’s talk.”

Taehyung looks you over one last time before nodding his head and turning around to head towards the exit. You gulp as you watch his broad back…you hurry to follow him.

Taehyung glances behind him and he exhales a long breath when he sees you rushing after him, he looks forward again until he’s reaching the elevators.

“Come on.” He gestures towards the open elevators.

You walk quickly, reaching him and the elevator before you’re going inside. He follows you in.

“Taehyung—”

“Wait until we are downstairs.” He cuts you off softly.

“Okay…”

The ride is silent. But your mind is as loud as shrieking ghosts, ghosts that want to haunt and traumatize you. You finally hear the ding, signaling your arrival to the first floor.

“Come on.” He tells you, his voice booming throughout the small space. “Follow me.”

You do as he says, you follow him. Truthfully, you would follow him anywhere. Even to the ends of the Earth.

“Yes, hi.” Taehyung begins speaking to the front desk lady. “I want a room, please.”

Wait, a room? You’d follow him anywhere but a room?

“Taehyung—”

“It’s just so we have privacy.” He assures you, not even looking in your direction.

“It’s expensive…” you slur. “We can just talk outside.”

“It’s fine.” He hands the lady his card, “Which floor?”

“6th floor.” She informs him with a bright smile.

Your eyes find your shoes, somehow they’re more fascinating than anything else suddenly. Then you feel the warmth of Taehyung’s hand wrapping itself around yours, his fingers struggling to intertwine with your own. But then you finally receive the hint and allow him to hold your hand.

“You’re drunk, y/n.” he says, voice laced in disappointment, “I’m sorry for making you wait.” He leads you back to the elevators. You two walk inside and he let’s go of your hand, he runs his fingers through his smooth hair and sighs out in defeat.

“You should just get some sleep.”

“I want to talk.” You slur again, “I have…I have so much to say.”

“We’ll see.” His low voice rumbles. “We’ll see.”

The ride up to the 6th floor is long, but you finally make it out of that small space and stumble towards your room.

Taehyung unlocks the door and you make your way inside…the view is amazing. The city is quite the sight.

“Take your shoes off, I’m sure your feet hurt.” Taehyung loosens up his tie.

“They do.” You admit in a whine.

Taehyung takes a seat on the edge of the made bed and watches you with intense eyes as you get comfortable.

“C’mere.” He pats the spot next to him.

Suddenly you become very shy. You haven’t felt this kind of tension in so long. His eyes boring into every inch of your skin, his eyes trailing along your body and making you feel exposed. Making you feel naked.

“Okay.” You nod your head slowly, “I can do that.” You take your time walking to him, sitting next to him on the bed.

“What is it you want to tell me?” Taehyung gets straight to the point.

“Uh….umm…”

“Words y/n.” he closes his eyes for a brief second, then his sight is back on you. “Why did you want to see me?”

“Taehyung.” Saying his name feels so…exhilarating. You’ve avoided it for so long but now you can say it and it feels like freedom and it tastes so, so sweet on your tongue.

“I don’t know where to start.” You admit. “I didn’t rehearse…”

For the first time tonight Taehyung’s face splits into a small smile as he quietly chuckles.

“Rehearse?”

“Yeah…I didn’t practice what to say.” You slur cutely.

“Just let the words flow naturally.” His eyes light up in slight amusement. “What is it you want to tell me?”

“I miss you.” You blurt out, your hand immediately going to cover your mouth as if you said curse words.

“You miss me?” he repeats your words, “Is that so?”

You slowly lower your hand that covers your mouth and nod your head.

“Yes.” You close your eyes and tilt your head back. “This past year…”

“What about it?”

“This past year I…”

“You?” Taehyung raises a curious brow, “You what?”

“I think I’ve become better.” You slur out your words, “I’m better now.”

“Yeah?” Taehyung asks, his voice low. “I’m happy for you.”

“Taehyung.” You lower your head and open your eyes. They stare straight ahead. “Can we make this work?” your words jumble together as you try to speak. Those last shots sneaking up on you.

“I’ve decided that this conversation is going to have to wait.” Taehyung stands from the bed, “I’m going to get you some water.”

You watch as he walks towards a counter and pours you a glass of water, he comes back and places the cup in your hands. “Drink.” He says softly. “Please.”

“O-Okay.” You bring the cup to your lips, your eyes never leaving his as you gulp back some of the liquid.

“Good girl.” He whispers. “Now, I want you to get some sleep.”

“Are you sleeping with me?” you hiccup.

“No.” he tells you with a tender voice, “But I will stay here until you fall asleep, how about that?”

“Okay….”

Taehyung watches you carefully as you lay down on the bed, your head falling onto the fluffy pillow and your eyes closing almost immediately. He softly groans when you begin snoring only minutes later…his eyes never leaving you.

You’re going to be in Korea? For Yuna’s birthday? Taehyung reads your text like he’s on repeat. He is feeling an array of emotions, he feels good things, bad things, things in the middle. But the bad things…aren’t even very bad. It’s just anxiety…and doubt. Maybe it is that bad.

Taehyung decides not to reply not until he’s talked to his therapist, he wants to thoroughly discuss this over and come to a smart decision. But his heart is fucking fluttering at the thought of seeing you. He really misses you. But are either of you ready to face the other?

The next day Taehyung gets to the old man’s office, waiting patiently outside the door until he gets the signal he can go in. Where does he start? Does he just show the text to his therapist? Does he talk about something else first before nonchalantly bringing you up and this text that is haunting him?

“y/n texted me.” He decides to be straight forward, as usual.

“Ah, really?” the old man peeks at Taehyung through his glasses that rest lowly on his nose. “What did she say?”

“She’s coming here. She asked if she will see me.”

“And will you see her?”

“I…I don’t know.” Taehyung admits between a long breath, “I really don’t know.”

The old man nods his head in quiet understanding, he jots down some notes on his notebook with his pen.

“Taehyung.” The man stops writing his notes to get a look at Taehyung, “What do you want from her? If anything at all.”

“I just want her to live a good life.”

“That’s not what I asked. I asked what you want from her?”

“I don’t know anymore.” He tells the old man, his voice low.

“It’s okay not to know. You don’t have to see her if you aren’t ready, you know?”

“I don’t?” Taehyung asks, but then his lips curve upward like he realizes how silly his question is. “I know.” He nods his head, “But it’s not like I don’t want to see her. I do.”

“Then—”

“But I don’t know how to prepare for that. I don’t know how to face her. What will we even talk about? Why does she want to see me? Is she just being polite because we share the same friends? That she knows she’s bound to run into me? Or is it because she does want to see me? But why? Why?” Taehyung begins to ramble. “Can we coexist? Is this just about coexisting? Is that about us? Her and I? Is this about what we can maybe be? But how do either of us know we are ready for that?”

“Ah, that.” The old man sighs out, taking his glasses off. “I know it may seem like cliché words…but you will just know.”

“You’re right. Those are cliché words.” Taehyung says with a straight face.

“But they are a classic for a reason, you know?” The old man points out with a chuckle. “You will feel it. You will feel it in every fiber of your being of what the right thing to do is. You will feel it. Your bones will tell you. Your heart will tell you. You will realize how simple and easy it is to just know.”

“But I don’t know?”

“Because maybe it isn’t time for you yet to be aware. But the time will come.”

“I think for now…I need time to think. I didn’t have enough time to prepare for this.” Taehyung says honestly. “This is too sudden.”

“You have every right to feel that way.”

“But how does she feel?” Taehyung becomes worried, his soft expression becoming more and more serious.

“We’re here to focus on you.” The old man reminds him gently. “In the end, I believe you will do what you think is best. You will do what you think is right. And coming to those type of conclusions takes time.”

Taehyung sits down in a chair across from the bed, gazing at you as you sleep. He thought seeing you would give him the answers he needs but he’s still lost. It took a lot for him to show up here…it took a lot for him to gather the courage to face you. He thought for sure once he saw you he would know everything. He would feel what to do. But seeing you here only confuses him further. What does he want? What is he ready for? Does he even know you anymore?

Finally, Taehyung stands up from the chair and walks to your side of the bed. He reaches his hand to gently stroke your cheek before he’s leaving the room. Leaving you. He sends a text to Jimin letting him know your room number and that you’re fast asleep. Then he is heading back home.

~~~~

“A movie night?” you tilt your head to the side, “I don’t know…can we just—”

“It’ll be a good way for everyone to unwind from last night’s partying!” Jimin whines, “Please! I promise you can choose the first movie.” He offers with a sweet smile.

“Jimin I don’t know…if I’m up for this after last night…”

“Oh? Didn’t I tell you?” the corner of Jimin’s mouth curves upwards. “He said he was going to come tonight.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, said he wanted to hang with everyone. Guess that includes you.” Jimin points out knowingly. “You said you guys didn’t really get to talk so maybe…”

“I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

“But you said you were going to give it your all right? This is an opportunity.”

“Oh…” you start pulling at the ends of your hair, “That’s true.”

“So movie night?”

“Movie night.”

You and Jimin clean up his place as you wait for everyone’s arrival. Hobi and Yoongi show up first, then Namjoon and finally Jungkook and Jin. Taehyung still hasn’t shown up and you guys are about to play your first movie. You wonder if he is really coming.

“He’s coming, I just talked to him on the way here.” Jungkook assures you. “Relax.”

“I am relaxed.” You lie, “You relax.”

“He went last night…that’s a good sign, right?”

“I don’t know.” You admit honestly. “We didn’t get to talk.”

Suddenly, you hear the front door unlocking and opening up. You guess he has a key. You freeze on the sofa, you can hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears. He’s here.

“Hey guys.” You hear his deep voice rumble. “I’m here.” He announces but you keep your eyes on the TV. You feel his footsteps get closer and closer, the pitter patter against the wooden floors making you so anxious.

Then you see his figure in your peripherals, he’s standing on the side of the couch, facing you.

“Hi y/n.”

You gulp, your eyes still on the TV when you remind yourself you’re a brave girl. You slowly turn your head to face him, your wide eyes finding his face. His hair is shorter than you remember, still a bit wavy and still dark. He looks so handsome, so mature. He’s got on some comfortable looking pants and a printed button up, his hands in his pockets as he looks down at you.

“Hi.” You squeak.

“Can I sit next to you?” he asks, his low voice barely heard by the others. “If it’s okay…”

“Yeah!” you rush to scoot over, making room for him. “Sit, sit.”

Taehyung gives you a wide boxy grin and nods his head quickly, he takes a seat next to you, his shoulder bumping yours. Fuck, you feel like you’re in middle school. His shoulder is like, fucking heaven or some shit.

“What movie did you guys decide on?”

“I don’t know, something random.” You tell him nervously. “It just started. You haven’t missed much.”

“I don’t think I’ll be paying much attention to the movie anyway.” Taehyung whispers, his warm breath fanning your cheek from how close he is.

“Oh?” you gulp. “Jimin says it’s good though.”

“I’m not really here for the movies, you know?” He leans into you a little bit and you feel a harsh, harsh blush creep up on your heated cheeks. His fingers find your knee and he taps against your jeans. “Can we talk outside?”

“The—The movie….” You whisper, pointing at the screen. “Let’s just watch the movie for now.”

Shit, you haven’t felt this nervous under his gaze in his long. His eyes study you as you watch the film. You can feel his intense gaze. You can feel how he just stares at you from time to time.

You aren’t sure why you are chickening out…maybe because you’re embarrassed about being drunk last night. How you asked if you guys could work on it, but he said he wanted to save this talk for later. It’s just making you more and more nervous.

“This movie is boring.” Jin yawns. “Let’s pause and order some food? Also let’s go to the store and get some beer?”

“Dude yes!” Hobi agrees, “I’ll go. Who wants to come with me?”

“I’ll go with you.” Namjoon raises his hand.

“You’re right I need your muscles to help me.”

“I’ll order the food!” Jimin offers but Jungkook is quick to volunteer as well, something about not trusting Jimin to get all the good meats.

“Sounds good.” Yoongi brings out his phone and starts playing on it.

Taehyung glances over at you and nods towards the patio.

“Shall we?” he begins standing up, he faces you and extends his hand out for you to take. You hesitate but you take it. The warmth of his hand sending tingles all throughout your body, you wonder if he feels it too.

He leads you out to the patio and you both take a seat across from one another. You nervously shake your knee up and down and Taehyung can’t help but chuckle.

“Will you calm down?” He insists, “You’re the one who wanted to talk, remember?”

“I know.” You find his beautiful, brown eyes. “I do.”

“Then talk.” He gestures for you to go on.

“Taehyung.”

“Yes?”

“How has your year been?” this is where you decide to start.

“Hard. Good. Worth it.” He leans back in the chair, “I struggled some days more than others but mostly…really good.”

“Do you think you could…be honest with me? Be open with me?” you nibble on your lips, your knee continues to shake.

“How so?”

“Can you tell me all about your year, what you went through, how you felt. Your feelings in general. Could you do that? With me?”

Taehyung blinks at you in surprise for a few seconds before he is closing his eyes altogether. He leans even further back in his chair and takes a deep breath.

“You want to know me again?” he whispers out. “You want to know me?”

“Yes. And I want you to know me in return.” Your shaking knee finally comes to a stop as you drag your chair closer to his. “I want to…really talk. About everything. I want to understand you. I want…”

“I understand.” Taehyung nods his head before opening his eyes again, they find yours and you’re intimated by his gaze. He observes you for a while, his serious expression making you nervous again.

“What do you want from me?” He asks bluntly. “What is your ultimate goal here?”

“You.” You reply just as straight forward. “I want you.”

“I don’t know.” He says quickly, you feel your heart squeeze in your chest. He doesn’t know?

“I think…” he sighs out, “I don’t think it’s that simple.” And what the old man said is starting to make sense. This is a moment where Taehyung feels it. He feels what the right thing to do is.

“I don’t think we can jump into something like romance, y/n.”

You brows pinch together as you listen to him speak, but you relax your features and nod in understanding,

“Do you want to be friends with me, Taehyung?”

“I think that’s a place we can start.”

#bts #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #bts fanfic #taehyung fanfic #taehyung x reader #kim taehyung #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #the island chapter 14

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darklydeliciousdesires · 2 years

Text

Paradise Circus - Chapter Fifteen.

Surprise update time! I was feeling generous 😊 I hope you all enjoy it!

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 2,420

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. NO MINORS, PLEASE!

“Can you move?” Tommy asked, standing above Darla as she lay on the grass, breathless, aching and utterly ruined, and none of them in the way she liked to be when Tommy was involved. Saturday had come, and with it, another boot camp session.

“No. You’ve finished me.”

He smirked, extending his hand and pulling her up. “Not yet, I haven’t. Give a man time.” Winking, he waited for the naughty grin he usually got in reply, except none came. Weird, he thought.

“Yeah, about that.” Finally, after her contemplation over the last week, she’d made a decision there, arriving at the thought that their continuing with a sexual relationship likely would cloud her judgement.

No matter how much she didn’t wish to cease it, how conflicted she’d felt, especially after Thursday, it was likely better if she did. “I don’t think we should have sex any longer, or at least, not for the moment. I think it might cloud my judgement, trying for us to get along as friends first, for us to make what is ultimately a very difficult decision, over whether we’re bringing a child into it. I’m eight weeks now, so we need to get to decision making soon.”

He nodded, a range of emotions flickering across his face. The one he did well to hide though, was the immediate feeling of rejection. Also, he was pissed off, but not necessarily at her. What she said made sense, and he couldn’t be mad at her about it. Yet, there he was, feeling anger churn in his belly.

“Alright, no problem.”

“Are you sure? From the look on your face, it kind of looks like it could be a problem? Do you want to talk about it?”

“It isn’t, so therefore no, I don’t. Look, I have a lot of shit on today, so I’m gonna go. Call me when you want to talk more about the maybe baby.” Making a start to leave, he was prevented, Darla grabbing his arm.

“Hey, stop,” she began gently. “Tell me what’s wrong about what I requested. Because we’re supposed to be spending time together in order to make that decision, and now you’re all surly and attempting to run away from me.”

“I’m not fucking surly, Darla! Jesus fucking Christ, just leave it!” And there it was, the blow up from his temper that she’d been wondering whether she’d receive, contemplating over which one of them would crack first, if it did become heated. She was only surprised that it hadn’t been her, for once.

“Oh, what, so now you can’t fuck me, you don’t even want to be around me? Are you really that kind of guy, Tommy?” It was her immediate reaction to being told such, because it certainly seemed that way, for him to cut her off because he wouldn’t be getting to take her to bed.

“No! That isn’t it at all!”

“Tommy, calm down. Stop yelling at me. We have to talk, and I hear you, if you say it isn’t that then I believe you,” she began.

“How could you even think I’m that kind of bullshit guy?” He was still no calmer as he cut her up, but she wouldn’t rise to it. One of them had to keep composed.

“Well, to be fair, you weren’t giving me a whole lot of explanation to the contrary, so try now.”

Her words were met with stony silence, Tommy like the water of a lake as he regained his composure, calm on the surface, and his depths swirling darkly.

“It’s fine, and I agree. Look, let’s just forget anything else and be friends, alright?” he began, chewing his lip with apprehension. “I really don’t want you to get an abortion either, if you want the truth. I want you to keep it, and we’ll raise it as friends, but nothing else since that isn’t what you want. That okay?”

“Do you want something more, is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

He shook his head. “It’s too difficult between us, and we’re fools to ever think it’ll be different. Look, I gotta go. I’ll call you soon, or you call me, whatever.” He was gone before she could halt him, standing there open mouthed and stunned. There, she’d gotten her answer, that he wanted them to be parents, but things now couldn’t have been more messed up after the extremely visceral reaction he’d had at being told she wanted to cease having sex with him.

He appeared to be hurt by it, but wouldn’t confess to such. He also had no intention of sticking around and talking more about them being parents, wanting her thoughts on it, hearing her views. He wanted it, and that, as it seemed, was that. She was stuck between empathetic to his reaction, and angry at him for stonewalling her.

Maybe he was right. Maybe it was better for them just to remain friends. No sex, no anything else. Just two people raising a child together. Perhaps anything else would just further complicate it, but she couldn’t know for certain, since he’d walked away from her. She moved to a nearby bench and sat down, watching the dot that was Tommy’s car in the distance drive away, sighing.

Within his car, Tommy raged at himself, slamming his palm against the steering wheel three times as he fumed, self-loathing creeping over him like a mist. He was angry because he couldn’t hold his temper, because he felt shunned by her, and all because he couldn’t articulate that no matter their differences, no matter anything else in the crazy equation that equalled them, he’d begun to find himself open to wanting more.

Her wish to cease anything of that nature had just shot all of that down in flames, though, as far as he was concerned. He knew he should go back and talk to her, that it wasn’t right to have just left her there, but he was so embarrassed that there was no way he was going to put himself through that. She didn’t want him. End of. It would only make things worse to return to the scene of his monumental loss of composure.

What pissed him off the most though was the fact he’d gotten it so wrong. Even though she’d been busy all that week, they’d spoke on the phone almost every night, and he’d thought, especially after the Saturday before, and the following Thursday, that she might have been warming to the idea of something more as well. Well, there was that door firmly closed.

He’d become so flustered by it that he’d blurted out in the worst, least mature way too about his feelings over wanting her to continue with the pregnancy. He shouldn’t have told her like that and then just absconded.

“Man! When are you gonna grow the fuck up?” More hits to the steering wheel followed, glad he wasn’t far from home. He was much too agitated to be behind the wheel of a car. Once he’d arrived, he took a shower and threw his workout kit into the wash, slumping down on the couch and retrieving his phone. He at least had to try and make amends with her. Predictably, though, the call wasn’t answered, neither was the second when he tried half an hour later. The third when straight to voicemail. He couldn’t blame her for being pissed off with him, but still, he hurled his phone down to the other end of the couch in a fit of temper all the same.

Perhaps it was better they just stay friends. Heck, maybe it would be more sensible if there was no baby, and no them at all. All she’d brought to him was drama, something he absolutely didn’t wish for. Two months, and Darla Cooke had turned his life upside down. It wasn’t just her, though. It was him when he was around her.

He felt frustrated over it for the rest of the day, still unable to reach her via phone. At 7pm, after he’d had a few other training sessions, done his grocery shopping, cleaned and tidied his house and was on the way to his gym, he figured that perhaps making the effort to see her face to face might be the answer.

She saw his car pull up just as she was about to walk through from the kitchen, Darla darting out of the way of the window and into her bedroom, hoping he hadn’t spotted her. She was in absolutely no mood to see him, speak to him, anything at all. All day, she’d tried to reason his behaviour away, but in the end, her anger had won out, and boy, was she angry at the way he’d blown up at her that morning.

“Darla, you home?” she heard him call from the other side of her front door, frozen to the spot in her bedroom, chewing the inside of her cheek with apprehension. The mature thing would have been to go and see him, let him in and hear his thoughts now he’d obviously calmed down enough to talk. It would likely lead to the resolve that she sorely needed, that they sorely sought, but yet she paced until she heard the engine to his car start, only leaving the safety of her bedroom once she was sure he’d driven away.

What a mess. What an absolute, huge, stinking mess it had all become.

He’d told her he wanted them to keep the baby, but truly, what kind of fractured state of affairs would she bringing her child into with him? Or would he calm down eventually and they could perhaps find some way through?

“He likely had calmed down, and you just ignored him. You’re not stupid, Darla, yet you participate in behaviour directly to the contrary.” She told herself, lying flat on the couch, furious at her own actions in all of this. It was giving her a headache, the entire thing. If only she didn’t have such a penchant for coffee, none of this would have happened, their paths would not have crossed again and she’d be blissfully living her same old life still, Tommy Conlon but a distant memory.

She lay there for what seemed like a long time, closing her eyes for a few minutes, or what felt like that at least, opening them again to find that two hours had passed by, as well as the arrival of a message on her phone.

‘Hey, look I’m sorry for earlier. I came by a while ago but I don’t think you were home. We need to talk, though. Get this mess sorted out once and for all.’

He was right. They did. Where oh where to begin, though?

‘You’re right, we do. Can you come back now?’

She knew such was wildly optimistic, but his reply surprised her.

‘20 mins.’

Exactly twenty minutes passed before he knocked her door for the second time that day. She opened it, finding him looking just as brooding as he had in the park, letting him in and willing herself to keep cool, no matter if he lost it again.

“I really am sorry about earlier, I don’t know, you just touched a nerve with me, that nerve being that I’m apparently selfish in the face of suddenly having amazing sex taken away from me. You’re right, though. You say it might cloud your judgement, and I think it’s clouding mine, making me think things that probably aren’t real. I mean, we’ve always maintained we don’t work, we’ve proven it enough times, and now it isn’t just us to think about. It’s them in there, too,” he told her, pointing at her stomach. “But if you didn’t want to go ahead, I’d understand. Like I said back when you first told me, I want to be respectful of you.”

“Is that the complete truth, Tommy? You don’t want us to be anything more?” she asked tentatively, watching him think on it for a moment, looking like he was mentally wrestling with her question for those moments of silence that followed.

Ultimately, he knew honesty was the best policy. Also, he had to do more thinking with his head, and not anything else. Time to grow up. “I thought I might have wanted us to, but I think it’d put too much pressure on us, don’t you?”

She nodded. Those little fleeting moments of peace she found with him might have felt good, but what he’d revealed to her was a simple truth she couldn’t fight. There’d always be a clash there with him, always something about him that sparked her to act in a certain way, like hiding from him earlier rather than facing the music, or in her less composed moments, relishing in the heat of their ire towards one another.

Keeping it simple would be more conducive to a longer lasting existence of peace, because she knew deep down of another simple truth, and that was no matter how illogical it sounded to proceed, given their circumstances, she really didn’t want to get an abortion.

“I think you’re right. If it was meant to be, it’d be easier than this.”

Her words hit him profoundly. She was absolutely right. When people were destined to be together, they didn’t have the kind of issues they had. They just didn’t.

“It would. Look, I’m glad we came to some resolve, I really am. Now we can just focus on being excited that in just over seven months, we’re gonna be mom and dad.”

She smiled at that, his words making her feel warm inside. “Yes, yes we can.”

“So, when is your first scan and all that? I wanna be there,” he asked, Darla smiling wider.

“I have to go to the doctor again first and just make sure everything is okay, but I think twelve weeks.”

“I’ll be there for that, too. If you want me to be?”

“I think that’ll just be something routine and not too exciting, blood tests and the like, but you can if you want to?”

“I do.”

With that, two parents were born. It felt good, for them to finally come to something clear with one another at last. Their focus was now exactly where it should have been all along, upon their child, and nothing else.

If only the irrational little voices in the backs of their minds didn’t protest their sensible decision quite so much.

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barry-j-blupjeans · 3 years

Note

#9 in the nonverbal ways to say I love you list with blupjeans? 👀

9. buying something that reminds you of them

((non-verbal ways to say "I love you" - no longer accepting))

The Starblaster crew had a kind of... on and off relationship with Candlenights. It was great to celebrate when they could, of course, but even then, there wasn't always a way they could celebrate. Most of the time, it was meal-oriented, if they could. Food was something they typically had and even if not, the twins could conjure something up. After the beach cycle, it was pretty much unanimously decided to not do gifts anymore.

Which was why Barry really fucking hoped Lup wouldn't mind getting one because they hadn't done gift-giving in at least five cycles now and he might actually die if she rejected this. Like. Goodbye Barry, see ya next cycle, or maybe not, because you were embarrassed so bad you just turned to dust. That kind of die.

And the worst part? It wasn't even Candlenights anymore. Nope! Candlenights had come and gone and come and gone and come and gone and now it was twenty years later and Barry had the stupid little giftbox tucked under his bed and he had forgotten about it completely until-

"Babe, what's this?"

Barry looked up from the box he had been packing. They were doing... construction, he guessed? Readjusting how the room layout was, so he and Lup could have their own room without having to sleep on bunkbeds. Because, y'know, that's not how couples usually slept in bed together.

Lup had been pulling stuff out from under his bed and chucking it towards him to put in the moving box. He hated it. He loved her so goddamn much. But now, she had the gift that Barry had neglected to give her for the past twenty years. It was tiny, small enough to fit in her hand. The top of the box was dusty and he still felt embarrassed looking at the wrapping paper (the store had only had one left- red, with cartoon candles all over it saying "light me up, bitch! It's Candlenights!")

"That's-" Barry started, not really sure how to explain it. "I, uh. It's a gift I got you. In, uhm. In cycle fourteen? Maybe? I don't know."

"Babe, that's-" Lup laughed a little, dusting off the top of the box. "That's sweet, I think? Also, like- if you got it in cycle fourteen, why-"

"No gifts at Candlenights," Barry said as a way of an explanation. Lup laughed again and his chest clenched, in a good way.

"Care-Bar, I'm ninety percent sure we've all been giving each other gifts behind our own backs-"

"And," Barry pressed on, already knowing all about the not-so-secret gift exchanges. "I thought like. You're, uhm. You were too cool to want it, so I just. Didn't give it to you? I didn't wanna like. Die. Of embarrassment. Like I'm doing now, do you see the problem?"

"You're doing fine, babe," Lup assured. "I'm sure I'll love it- if, that is, I'm allowed to open it now."

"Go for it, I guess," Barry said. "I don't even really remember what it is."

He did remember. Vividly. She ripped off the wrapping paper and popped off the lid and Barry's chest clenched, in an unsure way, when she made a small "oh!" sound.

And yeah, it was exactly how he remembered it. Inside the box was a necklace, resting carefully on black velvet. It was a circle lined with gold- real gold, Barry's pretty sure, it was so goddamn expensive, and Barry's pretty sure he must have fucked up some part of their economy by conjuring up a few hundred dollars to buy it. The inner part was made of stained glass, red and orange and yellow, forming a phoenix wreathed in flames. Barry looked up from it to watch Lup's expression nervously.

"Barry..." she said softly, lifting it out of the box. He swallowed, hard. "This is fucking rad, dude."

It felt like an entire universe had been lifted off his shoulders. Barry exhaled, smiling, and asked,

"Yeah? You like it?"

"I love it, Bar, holy shit." She lifted it up to the light and it sparkled. "Can you- I'm shit at putting necklaces on myself, can you help?"

"Yeah!" Barry said. His hands were shaking just a tiny bit as he took the necklace and she shifted her hair aside. He struggled a bit, too, with hooking the clasp. But when it was finally in, Lup turned back to him with the biggest smile on her face and his chest ached, in the best way.

"I can't believe you were holding out on me this whole time," Lup said, sounding so goddamn genuine that he kind of wanted to cry. "Thank you, Bar. Really."

"No- no problem," Barry said, flushing.

#barry bluejeans #lup #blupjeans #mine #ise cube writing #asks #tentatively-positive-3 #:D!!!!

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years

Text

Time After Time | dark!Neil (Tenet) x reader

summary: it’s tricky when feelings get involved in an organization like tenet. still, you’ve never been happier than you are with your boyfriend Neil, even if he’s a bit elusive and a very erratic coworker. for all his secrets, you never expected what he would tell you the day he finally proposed.

word count: 5.5k

warnings: smut!! (dub con, for extremely complex reasons), almost kinda stockholm syndrome?, yandere/soft!dark neil, breeding kink, confusing time travel stuff

"What are we doing here?” you asked as you looked around the safehouse— like any secret Tenet hideaway, it was sleek but sterile, nestled in a historic neighborhood in southeastern Moscow. It was sort of how you remembered from the last time you’d been here for work, but somebody had rearranged the living room and changed out the rug. (Knowing the nature of your business, you were pretty confident you knew why the rug was replaced.)

Neil had made it clear that you weren’t coming here for a mission, but never said what you were here for, and had kept up the veil of secrecy all week long. At first, you had assumed that since tomorrow was your four-year dating anniversary, it must have something to do with that, but the more you pondered the potential options, the more you were unsure.

You turned to look at him and found him wearing his signature smirk, the one that made you sure he was up to something— but you still didn’t know what.

“Seriously, Neil, just tell me!” you pleaded with a laugh, shoving him playfully.

“We’re here,” he explained slowly, “because I need to ask you something.”

He sank down onto one knee, clutching your hand in his, as you looked down at him with wide eyes. "Oh— oh my god,” you barely managed to stammer, entirely breathless.

“As soon as I met you, I knew you were the love of my life,” Neil began with that smile of his that always melted your heart. “I knew that I had to do everything in my power to make you as happy as you make me, to have you with me until the end of time— whenever that actually comes.”

You laughed a little, but it fell into a sob of joy as he reached into his jacket and pulled a ring out of his pocket, brandishing it to you.

“Darling, will you be my wife?” he asked, almost sounding like he was a little nervous that you’d say ‘no’, for some reason.

“Neil,” you whispered, “of course— yes, yes!”

He popped up and kissed you, smiling too hard for it to be a very effective kiss, though it was a perfect one nonetheless. You felt him slip the ring on your finger and you felt like you were floating on air. It was even more surreal than the first time you were inverted.

“I’m so glad you said yes,” he admitted with a sigh of relief against your lips. You pulled back from the kiss and looked up at him, bewildered but overjoyed.

“Were you really worried I’d say no?” you scoffed incredulously.

“Terrified,” he laughed, and you laughed too, kissing him again quickly before launching into the first of so many questions you wanted to ask.

“When did you— how did you—?”

“I got the ring last month,” he explained. “I thought about waiting longer but I was so tired of hiding it from you. Then it was just a matter of getting you here.”

“Don’t take this as me criticizing your proposal,” you giggled, “but I have to ask: why here?”

He sighed a little, smirking slightly, and looked away before catching your gaze again. “You’re gonna think I’m a bit crazy—”

“Already do, continue,” you winked.

“But this is where we first met.”

He was right; you did think he was crazy. You furrowed your brow and laughed nervously. “Neil, we met at a coffee shop, the one by my old apartment. I didn’t work here then, you recruited me yourself.”

He chuckled slightly, turning your confusion into an eerie sense of nervousness. “Sometimes you amaze me with your naivete, darling. This is where we first met, the first time.”

Gingerly, you pulled your hands away from his.

“I didn’t recruit you, originally. I was here, working, when a close friend of mine came in and introduced me to the newest member of the team. It was you… and you captured my heart, instantly. Only problem was…" he trailed off, chewing his lip as he glanced away.

“Tell me, Neil,” you demanded quietly.

“You’d captured someone else’s heart, too. And he had already married you.”

You stood up instantly, walking away a little before turning back to stare at him in bewilderment. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing; you could hardly stand on your wobbly legs anymore. “I… I had a husband?”

“Yeah, met him once; seemed like a nice guy,” he shrugged. “But he wasn’t right for you.”

“And how’s that?”

“Because he wasn’t me.”

You shook your head, terrified to imagine the ways Neil had tampered with the flow of time for something as trivial as an infatuation with you.

“I tried to hide my feelings for you, darling, really; we were just coworkers for a long time, I kept it strictly professional. But the more I got to know you, the more I grew to love you. I knew I couldn’t be happy just being your friend— you’re my everything. I tried to tell you— but you wouldn’t listen,” he shook his head. “You told me you loved your husband. You told me you had just found out you were pregnant.”

His words hit you like a train and you stumbled back slightly, bracing yourself against a credenza to try to keep from falling to the floor.

“I realized I had to go back,” he continued, becoming a bit more passionate as he explained his plan. “You couldn’t be convinced if you were pregnant with his child. But if I was going to invert myself to try to confess my love for you sooner, I figured it would be easiest if I took it a step further and avoided the whole marriage itself. You had told me once about the day you met him. So, I went and found you in that coffeeshop, the day before. And I recruited you to Tenet. Truth was, we could’ve used you a lot sooner, so it was advantageous to the organization as well— which is why I got approved to be inverted by the boss himself.”

That hurt. He was Neil’s friend, but he was your friend, too. Had he known that when Neil went back to recruit you, he would irreparably alter the course of your life? Or had he only realized later and decided not to try to correct it?

“Don’t look so heartbroken, darling,” he pouted, stepping forward and reaching out to gently rub your shoulder. “We’re finally together. Things are finally the way they should’ve been from the very beginning.”

You pushed his hand away and averted your gaze, unable to look at him anymore. "I'm sorry, Neil, I can't do this— I can't live a lie," you shook your head, beginning to step away.

“No, you can’t go,” he breathed, desperation apparent in his tone along with his expression. “You can’t go! I finally got it right this time!”

“Is that why you were afraid I’d say no?” you realized with wide, watery eyes. “Because I said it before?”

“Yes,” he admitted, faster than you expected. “But—”

“How many times?”

There came the silence, his nostrils flaring as he crossed his arms and looked away.

“How many times did I reject your proposal, Neil?”

“...Fourteen.”

“Oh my god,” you sobbed, “Neil, you— you never gave me a choice, did you? From the beginning? Every time I tried to get away from you—”

“You always knew you belonged with me,” he posited fiercely. “You always knew, it was why you kissed me that night, a year from now, on the bridge in Oslo.”

“That wasn’t me!” you cried. “I was never married, Neil, I was never pregnant, I never kissed you on any godforsaken bridge! You undid it all, and now you’re holding what I never did against me?”

“Even then you knew we were meant to be together,” he explained, stepping a little closer; out of love for the man you thought he was, you had a moment of sympathy for the man he had become, and let him pull you closer and cradle your face in his hands. He wiped a stray tear from your cheek as he smiled down at you.

It almost felt right for a moment, but you couldn’t trick yourself into believing this was anything but wrong. "I'm sorry, god, I'm so sorry," you whispered hoarsely as you turned to walk away— but he chased you and spun you back around, overpowering you as you tried to wriggle from his grasp.

“After everything I did for you,” he growled, grabbing your wrists tightly when you tried to get away, “you can’t just walk away from me.”

“You didn’t do any of this for me, Neil,” you spat as you struggled, “you did this for yourself. You stole my life!”

“I saw your life, it was shit without me, okay?”

"But at least it was mine!"

He grabbed you by the shoulders and pinned you to the wall, making you yelp as he glared at you, eyes wild and teeth bared. “I’ll just go back and do it again. I’ll do it a million times until you stay with me forever, I swear. So what’s the use in fighting me? You’ll say yes, eventually. Why don’t you save us both some time— in a sense— and just accept it now?”

This was a side of Neil you hadn’t seen before. He wasn’t livid, he wasn’t violent (at least, not to the level you knew he could be), but he was undoubtedly threatening you… and you knew that he was right. More than ever you were sure that he was going to keep doing this, keep taking you through the same loop until he got the outcome he wanted. It was horrifying to imagine, but at least this way you could know the truth. Maybe you could even find a way to escape him someday— you couldn’t even imagine how, but you might come up with something later. You had all the time in the world, after all.

He softened slightly as he must have realized you were considering it, reaching down to pull your hands into his. You glanced over at the sparkling diamond on your ring finger, remembering how ecstatic you had been to wear it just a few minutes ago. Now it was a tiny gold shackle, each glimmer of the stone like a silent taunt.

Devastated, but with nowhere else to turn, you began to sob and allowed him to embrace you and pull you into him. He held you close as you cried into his shoulder, terrified and confused and seeking comfort even if it was from the man who had imprisoned you in time.

“Shh,” he soothed gently, “it’s going to be alright, darling, take some deep breaths for me. Can you do that? In—” he inflated his chest, guiding you to breathe with him, which you did to the best of your ability—” and out…”

Smooth breaths were difficult with sobs vibrating your lungs, but you eventually managed to stabilize yourself as he guided you through a few more. You resented that he knew you so well to be able to calm you down; you resented that your body trusted him enough for it to actually work.

“That’s it,” he praised softly, “you’re okay, it’s okay…”

You stared at yourself in the mirror, contemplating the way your face looked through the lacy white veil. Silently, you wondered if this was how you looked at your first wedding; the one that never really happened, to the man you never got the chance to meet. You liked to imagine that you looked happier than this, that your eyes were filled with excitement rather than resignation.

A knock at the door didn’t even tear you from your trance, nor did the sound of it opening; only Neil’s reflection appearing beside yours in the mirror made you snap back into reality, if only slightly.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your ear.

“Bad luck…” you mumbled. “It’s bad luck,” you began again, “for the groom to see the bride before the wedding.”

“I think we’ve had enough bad luck for a lifetime already,” he joked, making you furrow your brow and turn around, looking up at him.

He bore a startling resemblance to the man you’d fallen in love with, to the man you’d been ecstatic to marry when he got down on one knee for you in a nearly-abandoned safehouse in Moscow. Even the way he smiled at you, his gaze so gentle as it scanned your face, was exactly the way he’d looked at you a thousand times— when you first met, as well. The first time for you, at least. He’d known you for years then; it was no wonder that he looked at you with such love, struck up a conversation that perfectly targeted your interests. He must’ve spent years practicing to be your perfect man, until he finally got tired of the lie and trapped you in his twisted idea of the truth.

It made you question his motives for appearing suddenly and spoiling the surprise of you in your wedding gown— a sight he must have been dreaming of for years.

“Did I leave you at the altar?” you asked, below your breath. “Is that why you’re here? You came back to stop me?”

He chuckled lightly and brushed his fingers over your face. “I don’t know yet. This is the first time.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “How can I trust you? How can I know you haven’t said that every time?”

He didn’t answer, instead leaning in to kiss you gently. You closed your eyes, accepting that you could never really know the truth anymore. Maybe someday you would become comfortable with unknowing, or at least complacent enough to tolerate it.

Walking down the aisle felt sort of like walking toward the gallows, but instead of death waiting for you at the end, there was a life of futility, an existence guided not by destiny or decision but by derangement: one man’s fight, against God and nature, to keep you to himself and steal you from the life you were once meant for.

You managed to keep your footsteps steady, glancing briefly to the pews scattered with parse friends and family— wasn’t much time for either of those with the kind of work you did. All the time in the world, but not enough time for a real life. That was why it had been so easy to fall for Neil, since he was one of a few people you spent significant time with. Had that always been the nature of the job? Or an orchestration by Neil himself, separating you from others until you couldn’t choose anyone but him?

Thankfully, you managed to get through the wedding without crying more than was appropriate or screaming at him or trying to run away. You exchanged the vows and the rings, you kissed each other, the whole shebang. Occasionally you actually managed to enjoy yourself, in those moments that you forgot this was all a hollow facade, greeting guests and listening to toasts and dancing with Neil— your new husband.

You forced yourself to keep up the image of a happy bride for the sake of your friends, and everyone who came here in expectation of a fun wedding. It was what they deserved, even if it was costing you everything.

But once they were gone, you didn’t know how to play the part anymore. You didn’t know how to swallow down the sick rising in your throat as Neil led you to the honeymoon suite, how to smile back at him when he looked at you with so much joy.

You didn’t know how to prepare yourself for what you knew he expected.

“I… should change out of this dress,” you realized once you were alone in the hotel room together, and he nodded his approval. You knew if you looked at yourself in the mirror, you would cry, so instead you focused on getting out of your uncomfortable gown. The lacy white lingerie underneath was intimidating, not for what it was but for what it symbolized. You couldn’t go back out there like this, obviously— so you grabbed one of the puffy white robes, the hotel’s logo stitched onto the breast pocket, and you threw it on as you stormed out of the bathroom and directly to the balcony.

Tears threatened to burn your eyes as you looked out over the London skyline. It was stunning, and it made you appreciate that you should be thankful for the freedoms you did have. There was a big, beautiful world out there and you had the means and the motive to explore it all, if you wanted— you’d already seen more than most.

But you still mourned for the life you never lived. Some would argue that in an infinite number of alternate universes, you had the choice to leave him if you wanted to; and apparently, from what Neil had implied, you usually took it. Yet, that was useless to you now. The irony was not lost on you that you would be so spoiled as to hate your life when you were standing on the balcony of a luxurious hotel, in a gown that cost more than your first degree, with a gorgeous new husband and more money than either of you would ever have any use for. You knew you were being petulant. But something deeper longed for freedom, with everything it cost. Does it matter how decadent a cage is, if you are still trapped in it?

The balcony door opened behind you, and you defiantly sniffled, quickly wiping a stray tear from your cheek.

“Darling?” Neil gently called to you. “Is everything alright?”

You didn’t answer, fearing the waver in your voice would give you away.

“I know it’s all a little… overwhelming,” he relented, his voice coming closer along with his footsteps. “But you really have nothing to worry about. I think you’ll rather like it.”

“Like what?”

He paused for a bit before he replied. And when he did, he said it like it was obvious: “Being my wife.”

You turned to face him, expecting rage in your voice but hearing only sadness. “And if I don’t? You’ll just… go back, and do it again until I do?”

He sighed a little, seeming hurt by the question. “Please, darling, it’s our wedding night,” he cooed, “you can’t hate me. Let me remind you how good we are together…”

His touch was distantly familiar, and against your better judgement you relaxed a bit and let him pull you closer, his cheek brushing against yours as he spoke beside your ear.

“I never inverted for this,” he explained with a whisper, fingertips grazing over your arm. “I didn’t learn your kinks, memorize your body and then go back to impress you from the beginning. The first time we were together… it was the first time for both of us. And it was perfect. Do you remember?”

You nodded.

“Tell me,” he instructed, lifting your chin to tenderly kiss your neck.

“Paris,” you sighed. “We were posing as lovers to check in to a hotel without arousing suspicion. I’d been enamored with you since I first met you and I thought maybe you felt the same way, but I told you we couldn’t be together because of Tenet…”

“But I kissed you anyway,” he reminded you.

“And I didn’t care about Tenet anymore,” you remembered. “I just needed to feel you. And we made love for hours— nearly missed our signal to get out of the building.”

He chuckled lightly against your skin, his fingers leaving goosebumps where they travelled across your back. “It was worth it,” he decided. “It was beautiful.”

You pulled back and looked up at him, finding so much love in his eyes, and you searched desperately within yourself for a way to love him in return again after what he’d done.

Swallowing, you slid your fingers into his hair and examined his face one more time, illuminated in the faintly bluish glow of the city lights.

“Go back,” you whispered.

“What?”

“I need you to go back,” you repeated. “To the day you proposed. Don’t tell me the truth this time.”

Realization dawned on his face, somber but calm.

“I’ll be yours, Neil,” you promised, “forever, like you wanted. But I can’t live like this. I can’t live knowing what you’ve done. And I can’t live with myself if I know that I gave in to you.”

“I hate to leave you on our wedding night,” he argued, turning away slightly— but you held his face and pulled him back to look at you.

“Do this for me,” you pleaded. “Consider it a wedding present.”

He gave you a small, sad smile before he embraced you again. "Anything for you," he whispered as he kissed you on the top of your head.

Neil all but kicked the door down as he carried you in his arms, unable to break the kiss even for a moment to open the door properly.

He stumbled around the room a bit before he finally tossed you onto the bed, eliciting a girlish squeal as the puffy layers of your wedding gown's elaborate skirt flipped up over your head. Growling playfully as he climbed atop you and slotted himself between your legs, you pushed your dress out of the way to look up at him.

As your laughter died down and you examined his face, you were compelled to reach up and hold his jaw in your hand; he turned his face slightly to kiss your palm as you caressed his cheek.

"I love you," you sighed as you brushed a stray strand of hair back out of his face.

"I love you too," he smiled, "more than you could ever know."

You rolled your eyes. "There goes my husband with his crypticness again."

He hummed at the title, kissing you again. You figured you were lucky he didn’t rip the dress as he got you out of it, growling when he saw your lacy white lingerie underneath. “You really are too good to me, darling,” he purred, leaning down to capture a nipple between his teeth through the fabric until your back arched. “All wrapped up for me like a pretty little present…”

You whined when he slipped his fingers down between your legs, toying with you and refusing to just pull the panties aside and get on with it. Of course he had to draw it out, savor every inch of you, but did he have to drive you so crazy along the way?

"Neil, please," you whimpered, "need you…"

"I know," he soothed between heavy breaths, kissing down your chest and stomach until he reached where you'd nearly soaked through your flimsy lace. He kissed your swollen clit right through the fabric— damn him that just that little touch made you moan and grab his hair. He loved seeing the effect he had on you, it was clear by the way he grinned and did it again, a little firmer, relishing in the way you squirmed.

Finally, he pulled your panties aside; although of course he did it tantalizingly slow before sliding his tongue through your folds, moaning lowly when you accidentally pulled his hair a bit.

He looked so damn good with his face between your thighs, staring up at you and holding you in place with his petrifying gaze. His eyes were always uncharacteristically dark when he did this to you, like he'd been waiting all his life for this moment. Like the taste of you drove him wild.

You shuddered when he pushed his tongue inside you, instantly putting pressure against the most delicate places inside you. When the pleasure threatened to become too intense and you instinctively tried to squirm away, his strong hands gripped your thighs and held you down nearly effortlessly, likely leaving marks on your skin for you to notice tomorrow, to remind you that you were his. As if the ring wasn’t enough.

“Fuck,” you groaned, “please— please let me come.”

You didn’t always ask him for permission, but he always gave it when you did. So you weren’t expecting him to grin and stop his task to suck a hickey onto your thigh. “Not quite yet,” he purred. “I need you to ask really, really nicely…”

“Um,” you stalled, distracted by watching him leave a trail of marks along your skin with his teeth, “please… don’t stop, Neil, please let me come… I’ll do anything, you know I will.”

“That’s already true,” he reminded you, snarling as he gave your pussy a sudden spank; you yelped and jolted from the impact, but it ended with a moan and more wetness gathering at your hole. “You can’t be so obedient all the time and try to use it as a bargaining tool, darling. You know better than that. Offer me something I don’t have.”

“If you let me come,” you pondered your potential options as you bit your lip and rocked your hips up in hopes of friction, “I’ll… make dinner, every night, for a week—”

He quirked an eyebrow.

“A month!” you blurted out instead.

“You’re negotiating against yourself,” he chuckled, slapping you right on your clit and making you cry out. “And you’re not much of a cook.”

You were teetering on the edge, desperate for any leverage you could grapple onto, keening for just a touch more stimulation to bring you the rest of the way— and you were so fucking close. You could only think of one thing Neil wanted, that he didn’t have, that you could give. And it was a stupid idea, but you needed to offer him something fast before those dreaded spanks between your thighs made you come before he’d given permission.

“We can fuck on a mission,” you announced through your teeth. Finally, you felt like you had his attention. The only time that had ever happened was the one time you let it happen— the first time. The next day you’d had a long conversation about how you weren’t going to let feelings interfere with the job; he agreed, and since then the two of you had done a pretty good job of separating business and pleasure. Although he did occasionally get irritated with your work in the field and take it out on you that night in bed, but that doesn’t count, right?

“Really?” he mused. “Whatever happened to boundaries? What happened to ‘respecting the other team members’?”

“They don’t need to know,” you explained. “Please, Neil, I really really need to cum.”

He pressed a thumb to your clit and drew slow, relaxed circles— just slow and relaxed enough to make sure you couldn’t come from it. You sobbed and let your head fall back, exhausted of his teasing. “How can you be sure you’ll be discreet enough? You’re not exactly… subtle,” he smirked, your moans now exactly proving his point.

“Can’t be loud with my mouth full,” you countered, and his smile finally fell. You finally had a bit of power back.

“You’d really suck me off on a mission?”

“If you can promise to keep quiet,” you chuckled.

He growled a bit as he dove back in, the sudden pleasure forcing a deep moan from your lips. “Fuck,” he mumbled against you, “so dirty for me, huh?”

“Yeah,” you agreed as you bit down on your lip. “God, I’m close, just don’t stop…”

“As long as you keep up your end of the deal,” he smirked, and you nearly forced his head back down between your legs but thankfully, he kept his mouth shut after that— well not quite shut, just busy, and before you knew it the pressure that built in your gut finally flowed over and you sobbed his name at the peak of your orgasm.

He kept going for just a moment too long, sending white hot shocks up your spine from the overstimulation, but thankfully he slowed down and pulled back, licking his lips and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

With that out of the way, and you nearly melted into the bed at this point, he sat up and hastily opened his belt and fly while he gazed down upon you with a burning hot stare.

"I should return the favor," you offered, sitting up slightly and reaching to wrap your hand around his length, but he shook his head.

"I’ll get my chance, but right now I just need to be inside you,” he explained gruffly. “Can’t spend another moment without being buried in this gorgeous cunt of yours; I might die if I can’t have you now.”

"Well, if it's a matter of life and death," you grinned, poorly faking indifference as he shoved you back and caged you in, guiding his cock to your dripping wet entrance.

“Ready, darling?” he prompted quietly as you felt the head of him prodding at you. You nodded, and yet you still gasped and clutched his forearms when he pushed into you. It was like the first time every time, with the way his thick length speared into you and stretched you open, but you craved it regardless; by now it wasn’t even pain, just raw sensation that pushed your limits in all the right ways. He sighed a bit when his hips met yours, already pulling back and setting the pace of his thrusts.

Even with how wet you were, there was friction just from the size of him, but it was the right kind of friction— a smooth, slow drag against your walls that compelled you to wrap your legs around his hips and hold him deep inside you.

“Is that how you want it?” he interrogated. “Deep?” You nodded and he chuckled a little. “I can do that.”

He stopped moving only for a moment to grab your legs and push them up, such that when he thrusted again, the tip of his cock hit the furthest places inside you and you choked on your own moan. "Fuck!" you croaked, eyes shooting open and hands reaching out to clutch his shoulders.

"How deep am I inside you?" he asked coyly, well aware of the answer already.

"So deep,” you slurred, barely able to form words with a heavy tongue and empty lungs, “all the way…"

"Good." He leaned down and growled against your ear. "I hope I knock you up tonight."

His words shocked you, in the best possible way. You surprised even yourself with the way your body reacted, and your hands were almost moving of their own accord as they grabbed his face and pulled him into a deep, needy kiss.

“Neil,” you mumbled as you broke it just enough to look up at him, “put a baby in me.”

“Fuck,” he hissed, thrusting into you faster than ever, “I will, darling…”

He was unstoppably filthy after that, relentlessly pounding into you, claiming your entire body as he whispered unimaginably dirty things in your ear.

"I know you want it so badly, darling, I know you need to be filled with my seed… can't wait to see you all round and glowing with my baby in you."

You didn't understand his emphasis on the word "my,” as if it could ever be anyone else's! But you didn't really notice that very much, too busy crying out at the feeling of him stretching you out and reaching the deepest places inside of you. “Neil, please— I’m so close, want you to come with me,” you whimpered.

“Yeah? Wanna squeeze my cock with this pretty little cunt while I fill you up, darling?”

“Please,” you sobbed, and you were sure you’d never needed him this bad; never needed anything this bad.

Deep little growls coming from between his teeth signified that he was close, and you felt your body tightening around him as you reached your peak one more time, much more intense than before and so much louder than you meant for it to be. He finally spilled inside of you, painting your walls with his spend as you whimpered and began to descend from your high. His body relaxed atop yours, though his arms wrapped around you to hold you close. After a few moments of that, he fell onto his back and you laid your head on his chest, humming happily at the feeling of his warmth seeping out of you. You were confident you’d be sore all over tomorrow, but you couldn’t feel it now as the afterglow served as a painkiller, keeping you numb and happy while you cuddled into him.

His arm around your shoulders pulled you closer so he could kiss your forehead. You looked up at him, admiring the way he looked horribly disheveled and yet entirely perfect; he looked back at you, smiling softly.

"Can't believe you're finally mine," he sighed wistfully, "forever."

#tenet fanfic #neil tenet x reader #dark!neil tenet x reader #neil tenet dark fic #robert pattinson x reader #robert pattinson dark fic

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wickedw3asleys · 4 years

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Hi, can you make Fred or George, that reader is talking about they crush on Fred/George with their friends, and they think that nobody heard it, but then, Fred/George tell them, that they heard the conversation, and they love them? Fluff

Oh, Honey, Honey... (fluff)

(Fred Weasley x female reader)

AN: Thank you for being the first one submitting something! 🥰 I hope it will be up to your expectations and I hope you'll like it as much as I like writing it!

Also, if anyone wants me to do an equivalent to a male reader/non binarie reader, I can do it too! I wrote it as my point of view, as something I'd like to be part of, so that's why the reader is a female...

(This literally how I've been imagining him in this I want to die)

"UGHHHHHHHH!!!!!", you threw your books on the nearest tables and crashed on the couch in front of the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room

"Well... Good evening to you too...", Hermione says, lifting her head from her potions book.

"What's wrong with you?", asked Ginny.

You straightened up on the sofa, putting your face in your hands. "What is NOT wrong with me?!", you sighed, "Sorry girls, good evening..."

Hermione closed her books and sat next to you, putting an arm on around your shoulders, "Come on, what happened?", she asked, worried.

"The thing is that it's not even THAT deep, y'know... UGH! I'm just so cringey and awkward"

Ginny also sat next to you, a hand on your other shoulder, "My brother, again?"

"YES! Your brother! AGAIN!", you exclaimed. You started whining as a little kid at the though of your awkward actions of earlier that evening...

Whenever you saw Fred walk in, you never knew how to act. You knew him since your first year at Hogwarts, but since he is a year older than you, he always intimidated you. And then, after some years, you started to fancy him... let's say, a little too much for your taste...

You sighed once again, "I can't even think straight or form human words or sentences whenever he asks me something! He's going to start thinking that I'm completely mad! You'll see!"

"Y/N, you used to be good friends with him, how is that you're feeling this way now?", Hermione laughs.

You turned to face her, pouting, "I don't know! I just can't act normal around him!"

"Why don't you talk to him already?!", Ginny asks.

"Are YOU mad?!", you get up from the couch, outraged.

"I mean... He's not going to bite you... And you visibly have a BIG crush on him, so... She's not wrong...", Hermione says.

You cross your arms, trying to look though, "First of all, I don't have THAT big of a crush on him... I just think he's attractive..."

"Yeah, that's why you spend your day drooling over him and not being able to talk to him as a normal human being...", the girls laugh.

"Okay! Okay!", you lift your hands in the air, defeated, and let your body fall on the couch again. "I don't know what do to! He's so bloody handsome, I want to cry!"

"As much as I'll never be able to understand your opinion on my brother... I think you should talk to him anyways, what's the worst thing that can happen?", Ginny gently says as she strokes your hair.

"I could get humiliated for the rest of my life, since your mom practically adopted me and I spend every bloody holiday at the Burrow, and I would never be able to look at Fred anymore..."

The girls laugh again at your nonsense. You knew it wasn't that big of a deal; you've had other crushes before Fred and sometimes the crush was mutual, or not, and nothing bad really happened because of that. You just continued on with your life, and the same was for the other person. But something about Fred was different, a way bigger crush than the other ones, and you were deadly afraid of him rejecting you, because you knew it would completely hurt you to the soul.

Hermione and Ginny spent the next fifteen minutes trying to cheer you up and convince you to finally talk yo Fred about your feelings, but no success.

"You're so stubborn!", Hermione exclaims, "If you don't talk to him, I'll end up doing it for you!", she says as she starts getting up from the couch.

"NO!", you say in a high pitched scream, and you took her by her robes as your life depended on it, making her fall on you and Ginny.

You three girls looked at each other and started laughing so hard that Ginny fell down from the couch and you ended up crying of laughter.

"I c- I can't!", you half laugh half scream.

"Hey, what's happening in here?", you hear a familiar masculine voice behind you, making you jump.

To your surprise, the twins and Lee had joined you in the common room and were ready to sit with you.

"Oh, nothing... Y/N is being stubborn... She thinks she's extremely awkward", Ginny says, wiping a tear that was about to fall from her right eye.

"Why is that?", asks George, taking place on the couch next to you.

"Nothing! Don't worry about it!", you quickly say.

The boys let you breathe for a second and calm you down from the laughter you've had before.

"Well, I don't think you're awkward..."

Everybody turns their head to the person that spoke. You couldn't help but blush seeing that it was in fact Fred.

"Thanks Fred! You should tell her that more often!", says Hermione, discretely elbowing you. "Right, Y/N?"

You could feel more blood rushing to your cheeks as you felt Fred's eyes on you.

"Uhm...", you cough, "Y-yeah... Uhm... W-wh... WOW! I really have to go to the bathroom right now!"

You mentally slapped you on the forehead for doing that in front of everybody. He didn't think that you were awkward? Well, now he was going to believe it!

You made your way up to your dorm, where you crashed on your bed and started throwing hands and feet like a baby, again, mentally slapping you for what happened.

You were in the middle of whining when a knock startled you.

"Hermioneeeeeeee, I hate youuuuuuu!", you screamed at the door, not even lifting your head from the mattress.

"Uhm... Sorry, not Hermione...", says the voice, entering the room.

WHAT. You opened you eyes in seconds and got up on your feet.

"Fred! Hi!"

"Are you okay?", he asks, laughing at seeing you all red and hair messed up.

"Y-yeah! Totally fine! Excellent! Why?", you say, trying to fix your hair and clothes.

He laughed and started walking around your dorm. "I don't think I've ever been in this dorm before... Looks pretty good..."

"Yeah... S-since I share it with Hermione... s-she really takes her time to-

"So you have a crush on me, huh?"

You froze in place, really not expecting that question.

Apparently you started to blush again because Fred started laughing again.

"Me? What? No!"

"You sure about that?", he crossed his arms, smirking. That damn smirk of him. "Because I'm pretty sure I've heard you talking with Hermione and my sister not even twenty minutes ago..."

You stayed in place, not able to form any type of words to defend yourself.

Fred started walking around again, touching the things around your dormitory. "I'm so bloody handsome you could cry?"

"Oh Merlin...", you lift your hand to your mouth, not believing that he actually heard everything. Your body started to shake a little, slowly getting more nervous about the situation. What is he thinking? Was he about to humiliate you? Reject you?

"Don't worry, Y/N! I'm just messing with you!", he left the little music box he was playing with on Ginny's dresser and made his way to you, all smiley.

"I feel like I might faint...", you whispered, but it sounded more like a question.

"Hey! Don't worry, sweetheart! It's okay!", he chuckled, stroking your head. "You're not bad yourself..."

"I'm not WHAT?"

Your face and answer made Fred crackle the most beautiful laugh you've ever heard before.

"That's my way to tell you that, well, I sort of like you too"

Were you dreaming? Or was this another of his pranks?

"You what?", your eyes opening as big as plates, not believing what he just said.

"Yeah! I mean... You're very a nice girl and I think you're extremely gorgeous! We were even friends a few years ago, remember?"

"Yeah, but... What? I mean... I never knew you..."

"That I was feeling the same towards you?", he chuckled again, lifting your chin up. "Darling, I've been since I was fourteen..."

"Oh wow... Th-that's a long time...", you whispered.

"Yes, it's it!", he laughed.

You didn't say anything, too shocked to be able to say anything else, so you just laughed, joining him in this awkward moment.

"Well, I'm not going to bother you any longer, love. I'm heading down with the others, come with us when you feel ready, okay?", he gently says, caressing your cheek with his thumb.

He started making his way to the door when a wave of courage invaded your body, "Fred, wait!"

He turned around just in time to catch you in his arms, throwing your arms around his neck and plant a quick kiss on his lips.

"I'll be down in a minute...", you say.

This time, he was the one to blush and for once, speechless.

"You look good blushing, too", you laughed.

He kindly smile at you, placed a kiss on your forehead and left the room with a wink.

You couldn't believe that THE Fred Weasley had such a big crush on you for probably the same time as you have had one on him. And that you just had kissed him.

You tried to stop a big smile from erupting your lips but no success. You made your way to the nearest mirror to fix yourself up and with a deep breath, opened the door and happily walked to the common room, thinking about what kind of things the future had prepared for you and Fred...

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elizabeethan · 3 years

Text

Overboard: 1/1

Emma Swan spends years trying to find her parents, and when she finally does, she gets more than she bargains for

A Silver Hook AU for @the-darkdragonfly

hours of watching Wicked Tuna has ruined me and thus this AU was born. Sorry...

Thank you to @the-darkdragonfly, @donteattheappleshook, and @xhookswenchx for listening to my ramblings

Rated M

Read on Ao3

Read my other stuff

~~~~

The sun pours through his blinds, assaulting the lids of her eyes as she squeezes them shut. Delicate fingers dance across the expanse of her bare stomach, making her giggle before she even has the wherewithal to stop herself. As sleep leaves her assuredly, she should feel irritated, but she feels nothing but comfort in her bedmates arms.

“It’s rude to wake people up,” she chastises, and his answering hum is deep and rumbling against the skin below her ear. “Shouldn’t you have learned your manners by now?”

“Are you making fun of my age?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she whispers back, giggling as he pokes his tongue against her skin and then nips at it lightly.

“That’s good. Because one mustn’t disrespect one's elder.”

“And you are quite a bit older than me,” she points out in jest, rolling onto her right side to face him straight on, her smile beaming as the sun lights her golden hair. He distracts himself from their morning banter to run his fingers delicately over her temple, tracing over the shell of her ear as he tucks a wayward strand behind it.

“I seem to recall you being a bit more appreciative last night. What was it you said? Something about my extensive practice?”

Emma hums softly, nuzzling her face into the skin of his palm as she recalls their rather satisfying evening. “It’s true,” she tells him. “With great age comes great experience.”

Killian laughs, refusing to let his thoughts of being too old for her taunt him. “I can assure you, I’m not nearly as experienced as you may believe.”

With a small shrug, Emma wriggles under the thin sheet that covers them until she can sling her legs over his own. “You’ve got a good decade on me. And trust me, you know what you’re doing.”

Killian falters, holding her cheek with his palm again as he pushes away more thoughts of self doubt. He stops himself from correcting her- fourteen years, love- and chooses instead to lift his head high enough to meet her lips with his. In the six months that he’s known her, he’s been endlessly fascinated by her free spiritedness. And in the four months since she joined him in his bed, hardly giving him much of a choice to deny her of what she so desperately wanted, he’s been unable to go much more than an hour without thoughts of her plaguing his mind. Thoughts of her body and her mind and her most alluring personality.

He’s falling for her, of this he is completely certain.

She grins against him in response to the groan that escapes his throat, her tongue lightly tracing the lines of his collarbone and making it that much harder for him to consider getting out of bed. “I’ll surely have a mutiny on my hands if you don’t stop now, love.”

Humming in question, Emma sits up and gives him a look of disgruntled confusion. “Your crew is going to be mad that you’re getting laid?”

With a smirk, one that he tries to fight, he shakes his head and says, “my crew is going to be mad if I miss another day on the water.”

Rolling her eyes, she responds, “I suppose I can’t keep you from your livelihood forever,” in concession.

He rolls them easily, Emma much lighter in weight than his usual catches as he flips her onto her back and latches his mouth to her neck. “That’s very considerate of you, siren,” he says against her warm flesh.

“I told you, I’m not a damn mermaid,” she says, likely rolling her eyes before she lets out a soft sigh.

“Aye, but I find myself struggling to believe you as you continue to seduce me with your wicked ways.”

Snorting softly, she meets his mouth with her own, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth gently and tracing her tongue along the tip of his own. She lets her hands wander, careful not to get too explorative with the knowledge that he should be getting up soon as she scrapes her fingers down the taute skin of his back. Despite her jokes, she really doesn’t want to keep him from his vessel. She knows his crew relies on their captain to bring them out each day, especially as the season comes to a close and the pressure to catch becomes more and more. But the way he kisses her gives her other ideas all together.

“I think one day I’d like to go out with you,” she hums thoughtfully against his mouth, and he stills anxiously. When they first met upon her first coming to town, Killian was almost embarrassed to tell her what he does for a living for fear of her judgment. Her genuine grin as he explained the way his family has been fishing for generations quelled his nerves, but still it felt like his profession wouldn’t be good enough for the likes of her.

“It can be quite dangerous,” he tells her instead, wanting not to dwell on the twinge of embarrassment that sits in the pit of his stomach at the thought of her watching on as he battles each and every paycheck he earns.

“I’m sure you’ll keep me safe,” she flirts, tenderly stroking her long fingers through the hair at the base of his scalp and smiling softly up at him. The sun catches her eyes again, the emerald reminding him of the warm ocean water stirred up after a rough storm.

His smile is sad and awkward as he turns his face from hers, glancing out the window at the horizon. “I’m sure there are better ways for you to pass your time visiting our sleepy little town.”

“Killian,” she says more firmly, moving her hands to cup his cheeks and encourage him to look back down at her. “You know I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon.”

The look in his eyes when they finally meet hers cracks her hardened heart, his anticipation of rejection something she knows all too well. “No one would blame you for heading back to Boston, love.”

She shakes her head. “I came here to meet my parents. To get to know them. And while that’s still important to me… they're not the only reason I’m sticking around.”

He feels selfish, foolish, as he gazes into her deep, soulful eyes. Of course he knows that Emma has a reason to stay in town, but when she says that he’s a part of that, he becomes consumed with a sense of desperate want. A desire to become all of that for her. An insatiable craving to become everything to her.

Of course, he’s never had much of a way with words. Thoughts, that’s a different story. But getting those thoughts out of his mouth and into the air between them is almost impossible. So, rather than express himself to her in the way that any mature adult should be able to, he leans down and captures her lips with his in a kiss that he hopes tells her everything that she deserves to know.

“You're going to be late,” she murmurs against him. “And as much as it would be nice to meet your friends, I’d rather not do so while I’m naked in your bed. I have a feeling they’re going to come knocking down your door if you don’t get to the docks.”

“Aye,” he agrees. “Hopefully we get lucky today and I can come back in relatively early. Will sometimes loses the plot if we come in empty handed.”

She rolls her eyes, prepared to make fun of how painfully British he sounds as he crawls over her to the edge of the bed, giving her a rather distracting view of his ass. He may be quite a few years older than her, but the physical nature of his work, and his devotion to his crew leading to him doing as much work as they do, gives him a physique that she isn’t shy about ogling.

“Will you tell me when you get in?” she asks shyly, the two of them playing off of the others insecurities without meaning to. “I mean, you don’t have to. But I’d like to see you--”

He cuts her off with his mouth on hers, leaning over her so that the stubble on his chin scratches against hers. “Normally, if we catch something, we bring it to the harbormaster to have it dressed and weighed. Perhaps I can inform you when we’re there? And meet you afterwards?”

She smiles up at him, careful not to let his words stall her as she considers their content. Perhaps it should have been obvious by now, that a local fisherman should have to deal with the harbormaster on a fairly regular basis, but the topic has never come up and so it’s stayed far from the front of her mind. “Okay,” she finally chokes out nervously. She’s always been good at hiding the intricacies of how she’s feeling, but given the way his eyes narrow at her, she wonders if she’s losing her touch. “I look forward to it.”

“Very good. Perhaps you’d… that is… I wonder if you’d be amenable to--”

“Killian.”

He clears his throat, standing from the bed and stepping away from the mattress to grab one of his aged knit sweaters. He’s rather old school in his techniques, she’s found, and the old fisherman sweaters that he wears out on his small fishing vessel are no exception.

Watching as he wrestles a pair of jeans over his legs, she giggles and sits up, bringing his thin sheet with her to cover her breasts modestly. Finally, while he stands by the door and fascens his watch to his wrist, he asks, “I simply wondered if you’d perhaps be interested in joining me for… a meal.”

Emma sits stoically still under his sheets as he fiddles around the room anxiously, refusing to look her way out of embarrassment and fear of rejection. She knows the feeling well, so she sits and waits for his eyes to dart in her direction before she gives him a soft, encouraging smile. “Are you asking me out?” she finally asks, and she watches his throat bob up and down before he turns to face her.

Clearing his throat, he says, “ah, I suppose I am.”

Really, it’s about bloody time he asks. Each time they’ve been together-- each time they’ve been anywhere near each other-- it’s been with her making the first move. He should be grateful for her willingness to take the leap that they both want to take, but after four months, he figures he’d best put his fears aside and grow a pair already.

It’s not that he thinks she’ll say no, although rejection is painful enough. His worry is that she’ll say yes, and eventually realize how much better she could have it. He’s a forty-year-old fisherman, for goodness sake. At only just twenty-six, she could certainly land a man with a more respectable, more lucrative, less deadly job, and that fact isn’t lost on him. It hasn’t been since the moment he first saw her at The Rabbit Hole six months ago.

She hums happily, smiling up at him and nodding. “I guess this means you’ll have to come in tonight. Better catch a good one, Captain.”

~~~~

“Oi, he lives!” Will calls from the dock next to Killian’s small boat, grinning and shoveling a pile of ice into the compartment under the deck. “We were worried you’d forgotten about us.”

“No,” Killian replies simply, shaking his head and climbing aboard. He makes his way into the wheelhouse, dropping his bag and turning the engine over. “We’ll need to get fuel before we head out.”

“Something you forgot to do last night? Perhaps you were too busy?” Robin asks, winking at his captain.

He rolls his eyes rather than responding, turning the engine on and checking the gauges as he listens to his mates making assumptions about his whereabouts.

When they finally get out onto the water, they avoid the other boats in the fleet in favor of finding solitude. A lot of the other captains think that Killian has some secret knowledge about the best places to drop anchor, but really, he just listens to his gut and gets lucky most of the time.

“So,” Will starts once they’ve put their lines out and chummed the water. “The blonde?”

Killian glares at his deckhand and friend, unwilling to give him much information about what he gets up to when they’re not at sea. He knows they did a piss poor job of keeping things quiet when they started up… whatever it is that they’ve started up, what with Emma practically jumping him after a few too many flirty comments were exchanged between the two of them. Everyone in the Rabbit Hole saw them that night, Emma’s fingers tightly gripping the lapels of his jacket and his sliding under her shirt and into her hair. Everyone saw them leaving together, too. His desire to hide her away and ensure that no one ever finds out about them is wholly unreachable at this point. He only wishes that he could quell his own fears about the judgment that the townsfolk must be passing on them. Emma is young, Killian is decidedly not. Emma can do better, Killian is batting far out of his league. Emma is an energetic young lady with her whole life and an endless amount of opportunities in front of her, Killian is a mildly successful fisherman. He can’t ever hope to be good enough for her, and the whole town knows it.

“Aye, the blonde,” he finally mumbles, wishing he could dive into the waves and never be heard from again.

“She’s quite something.”

“Aye.”

“A few years younger than you, if I had to guess.”

He glares to his left as Will continues to reel in some herring to use for bait, catching five at once without even blinking. Their age difference isn’t a secret, and it isn’t difficult to pick up on by simply observing the two of them for a few moments. The wrinkles around Killian’s eyes and the gray peppered throughout his hair and concentrated at his temples makes his age quite obvious. Meanwhile, Emma’s flawless physique and supple skin gives way to her youth, although her maturity is observable as well. One couldn’t possibly guess her to be a day over twenty-eight, and even then, she may seem too young for him.

Finally, he agrees, “aye.”

“Well, I think they make a lovely couple,” Robin supplies, poking his head out of the wheelhouse. “Sorry sod deserves a bit of happiness, finally.”

Rolling his eyes, Killian can’t help but agree with his friend’s sentiment. Despite the awkwardness and the assumptions of others, he can’t deny how happy he’s been since she rolled into town. And he definitely can’t deny how much happier he’s been in the last four months since she went home with him.

“I’m not sure she’ll be in town much longer,” Killian finally says after too much silence passes between the three of them, their lines quiet and the ocean seemingly empty below them.

“Didn’t she come searching for her parents?”

“Aye, she found them when she first arrived. But I can’t imagine her sticking around… I believe she simply wanted to get to know them a bit and then head back to Boston.”

Will and Robin must read the shift in his mood easily, the obvious disdain for the idea of her leaving Storybrooke and going back to the busy city where she could so easily meet someone worthy of her time. Perhaps he should let her go himself, be the one to make the difficult decision for them so as to not drag things out too long, but he’s a glutton for punishment and can’t possibly consider the idea of being separated from Emma Swan for a second longer than he absolutely has to be.

Rather than continuing the topic and torture Killian with thoughts of Emma inevitably leaving him, they change the subject to something equally as painful when Will jokes, “I’m sure her parents love you, aye? That age difference must have gone over well with dear-old-dad.”

Killian cringes and shakes his head. “I doubt they even know about me. I certainly don’t know much about them, aside from what she’s told me.”

“So she talks about that stuff with you?”

“Aye.” Will make a face, clearly surprised at his statement, and glances over at Robin suspiciously. “What?”

Robin shakes his head, casting another bait line, and says, “Nothing, we both just assumed it was just sex, that’s all.”

“What do you mean?” he asks curiously. It’s not because this is just sex to him, but because he’s curious about what they seem to think makes it not just sex for Emma.

Will laughs lightly, cheering when he brings in another line full of herring. “Mate, if she’s talking about her family, it’s not just sex.”

He hums thoughtfully, supposing that must be true. Emma wouldn’t confide in him about her upbringing— and her trauma, and her fears of abandonment— unless she was comfortable with him, would she? She wouldn’t have tried to process her feelings surrounding her adoption if she didn’t trust him, would she? She wouldn’t have agreed to a date with him tonight if some part of her didn’t like him, right?

“I love the look on his face when realization strikes,” Will jokes, bumping Killian with his elbow. He looks like he’s about to say more, perhaps another jest, perhaps something that will give Killian more insight into his companionship, but the radar starts marking fish and they each stand still and silent in anticipation.

The line starts clicking with the indication that something may be going for the bait, and when the reel begins screaming as the fish in question tries to escape, they jump into action. There’s shouting and running and fierce reeling, and it’s almost enough to get Killian’s mind off of Emma bloody Swan.

~~~~

Emma tries not to drag her feet as she makes her way down the main dock, the chilled ocean air sending a shiver down her spine despite her borrowing Mary Margaret’s windbreaker. With the season coming to close in a few weeks, the late fall weather sends a damp chill through her bones that she isn’t used to despite growing up in Minnesota.

It’s not as if she isn’t excited to see David this evening. She’s been spending time with him and Mary Margaret, and their son Leo as well, fairly regularly since she’s come to town. But things have been awkward to say the least.

She didn’t know about her brother when she arrived in Storybrooke. Finding out about him, finding out that he’s just turned eighteen, making them almost eight years apart, hurt a bit. Of course she understands that people change a lot in eight years. But the fact is, her parents had her and gave her away. They had her brother and raised him. It stings.

It stings. But it isn’t something any of them can change now. So she puts it behind her, just like Ingrid taught her.

If she wasn’t raised by such a soft, caring woman for most of her life, Emma’s certain she would be a different person from who she’s become. She had every chance to build walls as high as the eye can see, but Ingrid broke them down little by little from the day she welcomed Emma into her house when she was eight years old. After being given back by two families in a row, she was seen as broken, as damaged goods, as a stray no one could truly want. But Ingrid saw through her trauma and her bad behavior and welcomed her with open arms.

When she became sick, Ingrid gave Emma all of the information she was able to dig up on her parents. It wasn’t much to go on, and Emma initially refused to use any of it for fear of hurting her mother’s feelings. She didn’t want to make Ingrid feel like she was trying to replace her by finding her birth parents. But as Ingrid lay on her deathbed, the ovarian cancer too much for her frail frame to fight any longer, she begged Emma to seek her parents out, telling her that she deserves answers. That no matter the choice they made all those years ago, they deserve to know the beautiful woman they brought into this world.

She couldn’t exactly turn her down. So, traumatized and heartbroken, she put all that she had into expanding upon her mother’s research until finally, almost two years later, she found them.

David and Mary Margaret Nolan. She found them in a small fishing town off the coast of Maine, well known on the East Coast for their lucrative bluefin tuna fishing season.

It wasn’t exactly what she expected. And when she knocked on their door and a gangly teenager answered, she’ll admit to feeling slighted.

Okay, perhaps irrationally angry is more accurate. And if her method of coping was to go to the first bar she could find and get completely obliterated, so be it. The handsome man in the soft, cream colored sweater helping her to her room at Granny’s was an added bonus.

“Hey, Ems,” David calls from his makeshift desk where he does all of his accounting and paperwork. She’s sat here a few times before, but found herself bored out of her mind in a matter of minutes as she watched him work over his ledgers.

“Hi,” she greets back. She’s found that she doesn’t really call them anything. It doesn't feel right to call them mom or dad, because she had a mom. And while David may be her biological father, he isn’t really her dad. So instead, she doesn’t address them as anything.

“I’ve got a couple of boats coming in,” he informs her. “Season’s almost over, so the fish are big this time of year. You may get to see some record-breakers.”

“Cool,” she smiles, taking a seat on the folding table he sits at all day, cringing as it creaks under her weight.

“I think your… I think Mary Margaret is gonna come out tonight too. We were thinking of grabbing dinner. You know, celebrate the weekend, and all that.”

With a small grin coloring her features, her heart skips a beat at the thought of the sailor hopefully making his way to shore as they speak. She doesn’t doubt that he’s on his way, but she isn’t sure how happy he’ll be if he comes in empty handed and with an angry crew. “I actually have plans,” she tells him with a blush.

“Dinner plans?”

“Yep,” she answers with a nod. “A date.”

“A date,” David says, his brows drawing close together as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Who are you--”

He’s interrupted by his wife, her excited voice carrying across the length of the docks as she hurries towards them. “Emma!” she shouts as she gets closer. “Hi, honey!”

She tenses slightly at the title, still feeling uncomfortable when she hears words of affection coming from the woman who gave birth to her. She smiles anyway, waving softly and hopping off of the table, letting the woman embrace her briefly before pulling away. “Hi.”

“Did your father ask you to dinner? We figured we’d celebrate the weekend starting. Plus, it seems like the fleet did really well this week, doesn't it, David? The buyers are always more generous at the end of the season--”

“Emma has plans,” David cuts her off. “A date.”

“A date?”

“A date.”

“Do you guys mind?” she asks, only half joking. It’s been hard enough opening up to them and letting them into her heart and her personal life. She does try to not use humor as a way to keep them at a distance, really.

Mary Margaret clears her throat, smiling at Emma sweetly and only a bit awkwardly. “Who is your date with, sweetheart?”

“Well,” she starts turning to face David, “you might actually know him.”

“Oh, hold that thought for just a second, Ems. A boat’s coming in.”

She turns to face the water below them, noting the modestly sized vessel floating towards the loading dock. Two crewmen stand outside, grabbing for ropes as they pull themselves against the dock while the captain stands in the wheelhouse, diligently watching as he guides the boat. She smiles at the sight, taking in his ruffled appearance and the fact that he’s changed his sweater, wondering what happened out at sea to make the other one unwearable.

“Evening, Dave,” one of his mates calls, waving in their direction once the boat is secured to the dock. “We’ve got two big ones for ya.”

David praises him, watching as they open up a small hatch in the floor of the boat and reveal two massive fish. Emma’s never seen anything like it, the tunas taking up the entire space below the main deck. They must be almost twice as long as she is tall. “Think we’ve got a good thousand pounds here,” the other man calls as he wraps a rope around one of the tails. “Hope we can lift it.”

Killian trips and stumbles when he sees her, the blush on his cheeks spreading to his ears and down his neck and reminding her of how he looks when he’s about to finish inside her. The thought makes her blush as well as she grins down at him, giving him a small wave. He’s been quiet and shy for as long as she’s known him, but he’s also professional, and his silence and lack of greeting is almost concerning.

He climbs off the boat, hoisting himself easily onto the dock as the muscles under his sweater ripple with the effort. Clearing his throat, he finally makes eye contact with her, smiling awkwardly as his blush deepens. “Evening, Miss Swan,” he says sweetly, reminding her of when they met months ago. She’s not sure she likes it.

“Hi, Killian,” she responds with a smirk, making his blush deepen and heating him to an uncomfortable temperature in his dampened sweater. The first fish they caught was barely above the length requirement and relatively easy to hoist onto the deck, but the second has to be one of the largest they’ve ever gotten, and it put up one hell of a fight.

“You two know each other?” David asks, glancing between him and Emma, and it strikes Killian that she isn’t here waiting for him like he thought. She’s standing by the harbormaster, relatively close to his wife and child, and things start to fall into place in his mind.

They’ve talked about her parents briefly, about how they were young when they had her and made the decision to give her up at the persuasion of both of their parents. She told him about how they had a son a few years later and raised him. She just never told him that her father is the bloody harbormaster.

“Yeah,” she answers finally, giving David Nolan a smile that Killian recognizes. It’s the same one that David gives him when he catches a big fish; friendly and necessary but not entirely genuine. She doesn’t expand upon how they met, or how they know each other, or the nature of their relationship, and the harbormaster looks at Killian suspiciously as the machinery lifts his second fish onto the dock.

David evaluates each fish and offers him a hefty price for the both of them. The second one, the one that gave them such trouble, is over a thousand pounds, just like Will had guessed, so they make out very well after just one days work. Normally, their undeniable success would be enough to erase any negative thought floating around in Killian’s head, but all he can focus on is the fact that he’s pretty sure he’s standing beside the father of the woman he’s sleeping with.

He tries to be an adult about it, ignoring the awkward air that has settled between them as David’s family watches on happily, but when Emma asks, “are you ready to go, Killian?” everyone’s eyes dart up immediately.

Thankfully, the check had already been cut and handed to Killian, because he’s almost certain that he wouldn’t have gotten his hands on it if Emma’s question had come any sooner. He watches as David’s eyes grow twice their normal size, his wife’s mouth falling agape as she turns to stare at Emma in complete shock.

“No,” David says immediately, shaking his head in denial and turning to face his daughter. “Absolutely not.”

“Excuse me?” Emma asks, raising both brows in challenge and taking a step away from her mother and towards Killian. She sees his eyes widening and darting between the three of them nervously as the exchange becomes more and more tense.

The man, only slightly older than Killian, clears his throat and looks at his daughter again before saying, “please tell me you're not dating him.”

“How dare you,” she accuses immediately, stepping back once more until she stands beside Killian, his warmth radiating off of him and comforting her just slightly in the wake of her anger. She doesn’t even know why he would say something like that, what would make him feel the need to say that, but she’s quick to become defensive. She knows Killian is a good person, and she feels immediately as if this man has no right to dictate who she dates.

“Honey,” Mary Margaret starts, stepping closer to her and placing her hand on her elbow just as Emma pulls away. She looks in Killian’s direction awkwardly and tensely before trying again. “It’s just… he’s a bit older...”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” she says angrily, and notices David stiffening beside his wife.

“Emma, please. He just catches fish for half a year. You’re too young to be thinking about settling down with someone who doesn’t have a stable career. Not to mention, he’s almost the same age as me and your mother.”

She senses him becoming rigid beside her, his shoulders rising slightly and his jaw clenching in tense discomfort at the accusation. They’ve had this conversation briefly several times, sometimes jokingly and sometimes out of his own insecurities. He’s always seen himself as too old for her-- too old, too common, not good enough-- and the confirmation from her father surely hurts him.

Of course, they’ve never talked much about who her parents are. They’ve had their share of conversations about her past and why she’s here, so he knows plenty about the things that she’s been through, but she never felt the need to tell him who they are. She never even put two and two together that he may know her father until this morning. And now she’s hurt him by keeping this from him.

With shock and anger, she answers too loudly. “Well, it’s not my fault you guys had me at 17, it is? And are you really judging him for his job? He works hard every day!”

“Emma,” Killian tries softly, placing his hand on her elbow, but she pulls away in the same way that she had with her mother.

“No! They have no right to judge you for what you do for a living. Or us for our age difference. This is completely ridiculous.”

“It’s alright, love,” he says, resigning to the fact that he’s likely going to lose her. Her parents are right; his job is seasonal and not always as lucrative as he would like, and he’s closer in age to her parents than he is to her. It was bound to end eventually, he tells himself sadly, as she deserves so much more than he’s able to give her. “I’ll go.”

“You’re not going anywhere unless you're bringing me with you,” she gripes angrily, grabbing his hand in her own and yanking him away from where her parents are standing. He lets her pull him along, looking back nervously at the harbormaster and his wife as they gape at the two of them.

~~~~

“How dare they,” she grumbles, slamming his front door harder than he thinks she means to. “I mean, they barely know me, never mind you.”

“Emma,” he tries, but she refuses to let him get a word in edgewise as she continues her venting.

“It would be one thing if they had actually raised me. If they instilled in me these values that they seem to think puts them on a pedestal. But they gave me away.”

He guides her gently through his small cottage, the weight of his hand on the small of her back serving as a reminder that he’s here for her.

“Emma,” he repeats once they’re sitting and she’s able to hear him. “You know I understand.”

She does know this. He told her one night, while their legs were entwined and their arms were around one another, about the way his father abandoned him and his brother when he was just a boy. “I know,” she confirms softly.

“And you also know that I hate the idea of getting in between you and your family. They’re the reason you’re here in the first place, love.”

She stares at him for a moment, taking in the meaning of his words and angering when she realizes that he thinks he’s the problem here.

“Stop,” she insists suddenly. “If you’re making me consider them my family, then I’m going to consider you my family, too.”

“Love--”

“I’ve known you the same amount of time as I have them. And you’ve never once judged me, or let me down, or made me feel… like I’m doing something wrong.”

His face drops slightly in response to her words as he saddens. It kills him to know that she’s been made to feel this way. “I appreciate hearing that, love. But at the same time… they have a point. I’m closer in age to your parents than I am to you.”

“Please,” she says, rolling her eyes and pushing his shoulders until he’s lying down and she’s lying across his chest. “You should hear about some of the other guys I’ve dated. You being old is nothing.”

He pinches her hip in response to her jest and says, “I dare not hear about them, or else I may leave here and start a fight with each of them.”

“You’re too old to fight.”

“Aye, that’s right.”

They lie in comfortable silence, Killian’s tired arms running up and down along her spine until her breathing evens out. It’s either an indication that she’s feeling less angry, or that she’s fallen asleep, but he knows it to be the former when she speaks up.

“Do you know that you smell really bad? Like… I mean really bad.”

“Thank you, darling.”

“You’re welcome,” she says, and he can hear the sly smile in her voice without needing to see her perfect face. “You know, I could probably help you with that.”

“Is that so?” he asks in falsified surprise.

“Yes,” she nods. “A nice hot shower is just what the doctor ordered.”

“Oh, are we playing doctor now, Swan?”

“Ugh, no, Jones. It isn’t 1950 anymore, old man. Kids don’t play doctor. Now come with me if you want me to soap you up.”

She yanks him from the couch, guiding him through his small space until they reach the shower. It’s a tight fit, squeezing the both of them inside, but she somehow manages to get on her knees before him and quell his anxieties that he’s not good enough for her. Her mouth is useful when it’s using words to comfort him, and it’s just as useful when she’s using it to worship him until he can finish in the back of her throat.

As she stands slowly and salaciously, the warm water trickles down her face and into her hair, dampening the flawless length of her body as she reaches behind him for the body wash. “Does this mean you aren’t going to leave me?” she asks softly as she squeezes some soap into her palm. He can barely stand straight, leaning against the wall of the shower as she begins to lather the soap over the coarse hair on his chest.

His thoughts finally return to him and he says, “please tell me you didn’t just give me the best blowjob of my life as a means to convince me.”

She snorts, wrapping her arms around his waist and running her hands up and down his back. He knows she’s trying to follow through on her promise to soap him up, but she grabs onto his rear and he isn’t sure if she’s cleansing him correctly. “No,” she responds, pressing her lips to his neck and licking along his racing pulse. “But... did it help persuade you?”

He hums, not trusting his own voice and nodding. “It did,” he breathes, then he rights himself and remembers how imperative it is that he get his point across. “Emma, I don't want to leave you. I don’t think I’ll ever be happy if you aren’t by my side. I just… I only want to do what’s best for you.”

“You are what’s best for me,” she says, her voice barely audible over the sound of the running water. She finally looks up, releasing her lips and tongue from his skin and meeting his eyes with hers. “I never… I mean, I didn't grow up with a family. I know how to get by without my parents. But it’s-- It’s different with you. Ingrid always said that I need to fight for my happiness. I finally understand what she meant now that I’ve met you. I can’t lose you.”

Her words are so soft, so small, that he could have missed them. If he wasn’t watching the way her lips moved when she spoke, he would have. The way that she’s able to perfectly express how she’s feeling, while also giving words to the way that he feels about her, makes his heart practically jump out of his chest.

“Love,” he breathes, his voice gruff and barely audible as he cups her cheek with his palm. “I can’t lose you either.”

“You just mean a lot to me,” she whispers.

“Aye. You mean more to me than I could put into words.”

“Then please don’t leave me,” she mouths. He knows she had the intention to say the words aloud, but it’s as if she isn’t able to.

He’s unable to form the words that he so desperately wants to, either, so he leans in close to her and captures her lips between his own, molding their mouths together as if they were made for each other. And she kisses him back in a way that conveys how she feels about him.

Her fingers slide through his chest hair, scratching along his skin as they glide up towards his neck. She grips the back of his hair with her fingers, grounding herself through the emotion of the entire evening. It was hard enough on her when she learned her parents disapproved of her lover. Harder still when she found out he was considering leaving her for what he assumed was her own good. Now, she can’t get enough of the soothing comfort that comes from being with him.

He reaches behind himself, easily shutting off the flow of the water so that the silence of the room consumes them. The only sounds between them are the weakened, aged fan and the sounds of their heavy breathing.

“I’m— I—.” She starts speaking, but cuts herself off in favor of kissing him again.

“Aye,” he agrees, and although he doesn’t know what she was going to say exactly, he has a hunch and hopes to any god who may be listening that he’s right.

“Take me to bed,” she asks against his mouth. “I need you.”

He doesn’t waste a moment; when Emma Swan tells him to take her to bed, he knows he’d better listen. Pushing the curtain aside, he holds it open for her and allows her to step out of the shower, holding onto her elbow in hopes that he’s offering her some semblance of support. It’s entirely unnecessary, though; Emma Swan is the strongest person he’s ever met. She gives him a soft smile in thanks, grabbing his towel off of the hook and using it to dry herself quickly before turning it towards him and tossing it into his hair. She scrubs the towel through the gray and black locks playfully, giggling when she lifts it over his eyes and smiling at him so brightly that he finds it impossible not to grin back. “Thank you,” he says softly, and she leans forward, holding the towel around his head and using it like a hood to pull him into a kiss.

What starts as chaste and gentle turns heated and passionate in second, her tongue sliding against his and her hands lighting a trail of fire as they scratch down his back. He picks her up easily, her slender frame much less heavy than the monsters he battled earlier, and carries her bridal style over the threshold of the bathroom and towards the bed they’ve been sharing. The bed in which he hopes to never sleep alone again.

He presses her down into the mattress, making her groan into his mouth and wrap her ankles around his hips. She’s desperate to pull him closer to her, to have him inside her until she’s seeing stars behind her eyelids. He never fails to bring her ecstasy, each time they’re together fighting for the title of ‘the best time’. When his fingers find her sensitive and soaked for him, he smirks against her lips and kisses her harder. When he slides into her, making her gasp with the welcome ache as he stretches her, they press their foreheads together and breathe each other in. He rocks into her slowly and gently, exactly as she needs him. He reads her effortlessly and flawlessly, stroking her above where their bodies join until she’s powerless to stop the desperate noises from filling the room.

She squeezes her entire body around him as they finish together, and she cries out his name in loving praise as he spills himself into her. He can’t get enough of her, the high of being with her is like a drug from which he will never be fully sated, and he will never stop trying to bring her pleasure and joy and contentment for as long as she allows him to stay by her side.

The hum that leaves her throat as they come down together relays exactly how he feels as well. They’re sated for now as they embrace each other, although he knows that his longing for her is only slightly extinguished, only to be fueled again with just the slightest encouragement from her.

“That was nice,” she breathes nonchalantly, making him smile softly through hooded eyes as he rolls onto his side to look at her longingly.

“That’s one word for it, I suppose,” he concedes, running his hand up and down along the length of her waist. Her eyes flutter shut at the tickling sensation and she leans close to him to press a soft kiss to his lips.

“Very excellent? As if I was being fucked by a savant? Is that better?”

“No,” he whispers, “I think you’re just making fun of my age again with that one.”

With a soft grin, she says, “you’re pretty slick for an old guy.”

“Hush.”

She snuggles into his chest, resting her head under his chin and kissing against his collarbone before uttering, “a quick nap, and then you’re taking me to dinner.”

“Your heart’s desire, Swan. I promise that’s all I want you to have.”

~~~~

There’s an old wives tale, apparently, that tuna are more active during a storm. At least, that’s what Killian told Emma when he left that morning with the sky bright red. She was expecting him to heed the weather advisory and the warnings given by the coast guard that it isn’t safe for small crafts to be out during the oncoming storm, but of course, he’s as stubborn as she is and dedicated to his career and to his crew. They all want to go out and catch fish, so that’s what they do.

It’s not like she doesn’t trust his abilities as the captain, because of course she does. And it’s not like she’s naive enough to think that he’s never been out in bad weather before. But they’d just had a heart to heart a few nights ago, and if she loses him to a storm, she’s certain that she’ll lose what’s left of her sanity as well.

The fact is, she loves him. She knows she does, and she knows that she has since the moment she met him. She doesn’t care that he’s older than her, or that he works seasonally, or that he considers himself to be not good enough for her. What matters is that he’s the kindest person she’s ever met. He’s the most generous man who’s ever been in her life. She’s never met someone so gentle and caring and utterly perfect, and she feels physically sick at the thought of losing what she has with him.

He makes her want to be a better person. He makes her strive for patience and understanding, rather than impulsivity. He makes her rethink her tendency to shut people out before they can hurt her. She’s better for having met him, and she fears what she could become if she loses him to a crashing wave or a sinking ship.

After he leaves, after she watches as he sets off into the open ocean, she heads to Granny’s, the wind already strong enough to push her in that direction. She has a room rented out, but she hasn’t been in it in days in favor of staying with Killian, locking themselves away from the world and letting themselves be consumed with one another. She dreads the idea of going to her empty room, the one that isn’t hers and Killian’s, but she’s in need of a good facemask after neglecting her routine for days on end, and she could use a change of clothes that don’t belong to him.

After showering and, admittedly, taking an unexpected nap, she wakes ready for an order of grilled cheese and onion rings. The bell above the door chimes when she opens it, and Granny gives her a quick yet welcoming smile. “Afternoon,” she calls from behind the counter. “Want a seat with your folks?”

Emma groans internally as she turns and sees her parents and brother sitting in a booth, each of them giving her a kind smile. She returns it, although hers is much tighter than theirs seem to be, and says, “sure,” in a less-than-convincing tone.

“Hi, honey,” Mary Margaret says when Emma approaches them reluctantly, and she tries (and probably fails) to hide her cringe.

“Hey.”

David slides over towards the wall, offering her the only available seat beside him. “Been a few days, huh? How’s it going?”

“Fine,” she shrugs. “I’ve been staying with Killian.”

She watches as her parents stiffen, her brother obviously indifferent to her dating life. “That’s… nice,” Mary Margaret forces out, her discomfort so plainly written across her face that Emma has to stop herself from rolling her eyes. She didn’t come here to start anything, and she didn’t sit with them because she wanted to argue, but it’s becoming more and more difficult.

“Yes, it is nice. Killian is nice. And polite, and compassionate, and perfect in every way. So yes, it’s been a very pleasant few days.”

“I’m glad you’ve… I'm glad that you’re happy,” Mary Margaret chokes out.

“I am.”

They’re silent. Emma’s lunch is delivered to the table and they eat quietly, the only sounds between the four of them the bustle of the diner and the appreciative hum that David gives with each bite of soup. The wind whips outside, rattling the windows violently and blowing over a table on Granny’s patio. Many of the patrons stand, David and Leo included, and hurry outside to right the fallen piece of furniture, and Emma begins to gnaw at the short nail on her left thumb.

“It’s bad out there,” she remarks obviously, her leg bouncing up and down in quick, anxious succession. “I hope--”

She notes the way Mary Margaret looks out the window with wide eyes, realization setting in as the source of her daughter’s fear becomes obvious. “Emma, is he out there? In this weather?”

Emma looks at her mother and, for the first time since they’ve met, finds comfort in her eyes rather than a reason for distrust. “Yes,” she chokes out in a whisper, sucking her lips between her teeth. “He said he’d be fine, but…”

Mary Margaret nods in understanding. “It’s kind of bad out there.” Emma nods, too. “I can see why you’re so worried.”

“His boat is pretty small,” she explains, her voice shaking. “But he said it’s the best time to catch the fish.”

“That’s what your father always says, too,” Mary Margaret responds, reaching across the table and giving Emma’s hand a squeeze. For the first time since she’s met her mother, she doesn't pull away. “I’m sure he’ll be alright. He’s a knowledgeable captain.”

“He has been doing this a while,” Emma reasons, mostly with herself.

Mary Margaret sighs, giving Emma’s hand one final squeeze before letting go and leaning forward towards her daughter. “Sweetheart,” she starts, pursing her lips together thoughtfully. “I-- I’d like to apologize for the way your father and I reacted the other night. It wasn’t fair of us to judge your… relationship.”

Emma looks up into the eyes of the woman who gave birth to her, the woman who gave her away, and sees truth behind them. “It wasn’t,” she agrees.

“I can tell now that you truly care for him.”

“I do,” she nods. “Very much.”

“It’s just that,” she starts slowly, noticing her husband and son reentering the diner. “Well, you’re our little girl. It was surprising to find out that you’ve been seeing someone, never mind someone so much older than you. We just want what’s best for you.”

David sits beside Emma again and Leo takes his seat next to his mother, both of them looking as though they realize that they’ve walked into a pretty serious conversation. Emma thinks about holding back with their arrival, especially considering the presence of her brother, but she simply can’t.

“No offense or anything, but… I'm not your little girl. I never was. I never got the chance to be. And Killian’s age means nothing to me because he’s the best person I’ve ever known. No one else I’ve dated has ever treated me nearly as well as he has; no one listens to me or cares for me or loves me the way he does. And as terrifying as it is, because my dating history has seriously sucked, I know he loves me without even hearing him say it. And I… I love him too. And I’m really going insane right now not knowing if he’s alright out there, and you judging me for being with him isn’t helping how crazy I feel.”

The table is silent for an uncomfortable amount of time, and Emma chooses to go back to eating her onion rings and nervously bouncing her feet against the floor. Mary Margaret gulps, David’s wide eyes look between Emma and his wife, and Leo awkwardly eats his fries in the same way that Emma does. It’s the most painful silence she thinks she’s ever sat through.

“I’m sorry,” David finally says softly, turning his entire body so that he can face Emma. “It startled and surprised us when we found out, but you’re right. It isn’t fair for us to judge you. We’re clinging to the hope that you’d be, well, our little girl. But it’s time we realize that isn’t realistic and celebrate the time that we do get to spend with you. No matter who you choose to spend your time with.”

“Thanks,” she mumbles. She appreciates the sentiment, truly, but she gets the feeling there’s a but coming.

“I just hope that he feels as strongly for you as you clearly do for him.”

She tries her hardest to ensure that the look she gives him from the corner of her eye is not a glare, and she nods. “He does.”

“Alright, then,” David says casually, folding up his napkin and placing it on his plate before grabbing for his wallet. “Let's head to the docks and check the radar, then, shall we?”

Her eyes widen with anticipation and relief as she asks, “can you do that?”

“I’m the harbormaster. I can do whatever I want,” he says with a smirk and a wink shot in her direction. She follows him out of the booth with more enthusiasm than she’s felt all day, practically skipping out of the diner behind her father.

~~~~

“I can hear all of the long-range radio communications on here,” he explains once they arrive at his makeshift office. He pulls out his chair for her and lets her sit while he adjusts the receiver. “You’ll just have to listen out for him. So far, no distress signals or anything, though.”

“Good,” she agrees. She jumps in excitement when she hears a message coming through, and even though it isn’t from Killian, she knows he’s out there with this other captain.

She listens in silence for a while, David leaning against the table beside her and Mary Margaret and Leo standing off to the side and talking quietly. She hears many messages come in, many captains talking back and forth about the storm and the choppy waters and the dangerous conditions. A few of them have caught some fish, so she supposes it was worth it to them, but she hasn’t heard anything from Killian.

Eventually, after what feels like far too much time has passed, she hears someone ask for him. Emma desperately wishes there was a transmitter that would allow her to speak to him, but all she can do now is sit by and listen.

“Jolly, you still on?” the man asks, and David translates to let Emma know that they're wondering if Killian is still reeling in a tuna.

There isn’t a response, though. David explains that each captain should let the others in the fleet know when they’ve caught something, and Killian’s lack of response probably means that he and his crew are still wrestling with the giant beast. At least, that’s what she tells herself.

“Jolly Roger, come in. You guys still on?”

“Guess that means yes,” another captain responds after a moment. “‘Less he went overboard.”

Emma pales, putting her hand over her mouth and biting her lip until David places his hand on her shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. “He’s joking,” he tells her. “They’re all like that. A bunch of ball-busters.”

She nods and gulps, listening on as the fleet’s captains joke with each other as if there isn’t a nor'easter threatening to capsize each and every one of them. As if it isn’t possible that it’s already taken the man she loves away from her. She hears one of them saying that they’re on their way back to the docks, having caught a fish big enough to justify ending their trip, and she silently begs anyone who might be listening that Killian is finishing up catching something big and will do the same.

Eventually, after far too long, someone speaks up and says, “I’m going in, too. Anyone hear from Jones?”

“No,” another answers. “He was fighting something big; hopefully they catch it soon. Gettin’ bad out here.”

Emma knows she can’t wait at the docks for him forever. It’s unrealistic, and she’s going to freeze to death. It’s nearly winter, and the mixture of snow and rain and heavy wind that assaults her in the scarcely covered dock is starting to soak down to her bones. But she can’t leave. She still hasn’t heard Killian’s voice over the radio-- it’s been pretty silent for the last hour-- and she can’t get herself to leave before she knows that he’s alright.

Mary Margaret apologizes as she leaves, bringing Leo with her to get warm. She says she’ll have a mug of cocoa waiting for Emma at Granny’s, but she isn’t sure when she’ll make it over there. Despite how cold and wet she is, she can’t leave here until he gets back. She can’t even think of the alternative to him coming back.

David waits with her for another hour. They’re fairly quiet, hardly any words exchanged between the two of them, but after some time passes, he starts to open up to her in a way she never expected. He tells her how grateful he is that she found them. He tells her how impossible it was for him and Mary Margaret to give her up, and that both of their parents essentially forced their hands due to their young age. He tells her how painful it was, finding out about Mary Margaret’s unplanned pregnancy and being faced with the reality that they could keep this child and they couldn’t keep her. He tells her how badly he wanted to try to find her, considering breaking the terms of the closed adoption that fell through for years. He had no idea that the family who adopted her initially had sent her back because once they agreed to place her for adoption, they gave up their right to know anything about her.

Tears spring into his eyes when he talks of wanting to give her her best chance. When he admits to her that giving her away was a mistake-- “the biggest I’ve ever made.”

When she was young, this is what she’d hoped for. She dreamt of her tortured parents, broken because of their decision to give her away. She’d hoped that they realized their mistake and regretted it every day. But now, seeing the way that the decision they made 25 years ago hurts her father, she wishes she could take his pain away. They didn’t have much of a choice at 17, what with having no income and no support from their families. They thought they were doing what was best for her; they can’t help that it didn’t work out that way.

“It’s alright, dad,” she finally says after some silence passes between them. She notes the way he looks up at her hopefully, his eyes still glassed over, and she realizes why. She’s never called him that before, never thought she ever would. But in this moment, with the support and honesty and love he’s shown her, she can’t think of him as anyone other than her father. Her dad.

She sniffles as she steps towards him, her eyes beginning to match his own, and she embraces him. It feels exactly how she’d hoped hugging her father would feel. It feels true, and loving, and she’s at peace here with him.

“I love you,” he says into her hair, his hand cupping the back of his head. “I always have, since the moment I found out about you. I’m so sorry I couldn’t give you the life you deserved.”

She doesn’t even think before she says, “I love you, too.”

A boat comes in and David buys their fish. When asked about the Jolly Roger, the captain shrugs and says he hasn’t heard from Killian since he got a tuna on his line, but that was hours ago. “Sometimes it takes a whole day to get them on the deck,” David tells her after the captain leaves. “With the weather, I'm sure they’re being challenged out there. But we would’ve heard a distress call if anything was wrong.”

She tells herself that he’s right, and that he would know, and sits back down at the table. She can’t torture herself standing by the entrance of the warehouse, getting soaked and becoming even more frozen as she stares out at the horizon. She distracts herself with her phone, trying to keep busy as she waits, wishing he would call or text her to let her know that he’s alright.

It’s nearly dark when David calls her over, and when she looks up, she sees a small vessel backing up towards the dock, Will and Robin tossing some rope around the post to keep the boat from floating out to sea. She stands with such force and hope that she sends the chair crashing to the ground, but she hardly notices as she starts running towards the stairs. It’s still windy and cold, but the snow and rain has slowed, making it just a bit safer as she sprints down the wooden stairs and across the dock where he’s landed.

“Killian!” she calls as she gets closer, and she sees him poking his head out from the small cabin at the sound of her voice, shutting off the engine and hurrying towards the edge of the deck. She doesn’t let him disembark, choosing instead to jump onto the deck and nearly shoving Will to the ground as she fights her way towards him, crashing into his sturdy arms.

“Bloody hell,” he whispers into her hair as he holds her close, his arms wrapping tightly around her and warming her in a way that nothing else possibly could. His sweater is damp, and she’s soaked to the bone, but neither of them care. She can finally breathe again with her nose against his neck and her arms around his waist, squeezing him close to her.

“Are you okay?” she finally asks against his skin. She pulls away so that she can look at him, holding his head in her hands and bringing his lips to hers in a relieved kiss. “Fuck,” she breathes when she pulls away. “I thought… I was so worried about you.”

“I’m sorry--” he says against her mouth when she kisses him again. He chuckles softly and tries again, “I’m sorry, my love. I didn’t mean to worry you.” His hand leaves her hip and brushes her wet hair out of her face, his fingers returning to trace gently over her cheek.

“We listened to the radio, but we never heard from you. I thought something was wrong, or--” she cuts herself off, biting her bottom lip and staring into his eyes, as deep and blue as the ocean.

“The radio went out with some lightning. If I’d known you were listening… bloody hell. I’m so sorry, Emma.”

She tries to kiss him again, their lips touching for just a single, unsatisfying second before they're interrupted by Will. “Oi, you’re standing right over the fish, mate. You lot can canoodle after we get the check, aye?”

They caught three giant fish, the maximum they’re allowed to have on their boat at one time. She supposes he was right about a storm being the best time to go fishing, but she doesn’t think she’d survive if he went out in this weather again. She wonders in the back of her mind if the hefty paycheck David gives them for their catch is influenced by her in any way, but she tries not to dwell on it. Afterall, it could be worse. At least her father somewhat approves of him now, or at the very least, tolerates the fact that they're together.

When they're done, he hands the keys to his mates and squeezes her hand. “I promise I’m not going out there in this weather again, love; not if it’s going to worry you. It isn’t worth putting you through that again.”

“Good man,” David says softly, nodding to himself as he packs up his supplies. “Ems, I’ll meet you at Granny’s? We should probably dry off.”

“Sure,” she responds with a nod and a smile. “Tell-- tell mom I’ll be there soon.”

David blushes and nods back at her, giving her a shy smile. “Will do, kiddo.”

They walk away hand in hand, both of them damp and freezing and in desperate need of the embrace of the other.

“‘Mom’?” he asks her when they're out of earshot, trekking towards the small cottage that’s been in his family for generations. She can hear the smile in his voice over the whipping winds, and can’t help but to smile as well.

“I had a very interesting day,” she explains casually, looking up at him and smiling before looking back down, careful as she navigates over the bumpy stone path that leads to his front door. It’s a very short walk; his house beside the lighthouse is prime real estate in the small fishing town. “Little heart to heart with my parents.”

“That’s wonderful, love,” he encourages, squeezing her hand as he fiddles with the lock with his other. When they finally get inside, out of the storm and into the warmth of his small living room, he says, “I’m happy for you.”

She hums and smiles softly, turning to him and wrapping her fingers around the neck of his rain and ocean soaked sweater. “You should start a fire,” she suggests in a whisper. “And get out of these clothes.”

“Aye, same could be said for you, angel. How long were you by the docks waiting?” he asks, running the tip of his finger along her temple and down her cheek.

“I don't know, it felt like hours.”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t realize you were waiting. I would've tried calling, but there was spotty reception.”

“It’s alright,” she whispers back, pushing her forehead against his and cupping the back of his head with her hands. “I’m just glad you're alright.”

“Aye.”

“And there's… there’s something I have to tell you.”

“What’s that?”

It doesn't matter that they're both nearly dripping on the floor of his entryway, or that her hair resembles a birds nest, or that he smells like fish. None of the imperfections matter because when they're together, they disappear. Everything that could make their moment together feel amiss fades into the background when she smiles and whispers, “I love you.”

His heart stops beating. He wonders if he’s old enough to have a heart attack. It doesn't matter, because Emma admitting her love for him will surely keep him alive if he is. He chokes slightly, swallowing and taking a deep breath and then laughing and shaking his head in disbelief. Emma Swan loves him.

She giggles, too, her nose brushing against his as she asks, “are you in there?” and taps her fingers on his temple.

“Aye, I’m just… bloody hell. I love you.”

“You do?” she asks happily, her smile nearly blinding.

“Yes,” he responds. “Unequivocally. More than I ever thought it was possible to love a person. My life was so mundane and futile until you came into it, but Emma, you’ve given me so much hope. You’ve made my life… worth it.”

She breathes out a laugh and sniffles, scratching her fingers along his scalp and shaking her head. “You old sap,” she chastises playfully, making him laugh too. “I couldn’t agree more.”

Their kiss is perfect. They don’t need the heat of the fire to warm them up because the energy between them is enough. He doesn’t feel the need to strip off his clothes because of how soaked through they are; moreso because of how badly he needs to touch her. All he can think about is her body on his and the cursed amount of layers he’s adorning. He feels slightly less suffocated when she strips him of his thick sweater, but only slightly.

She moans as she pulls at his trousers, popping open the button and sliding the zip as far down as it’ll go. Reaching inside, she palms at the contours of his hardened length over his underwear. She giggles, the sound ringing through his ears joyously, when she tucks her fingers under his long underwear and is met with even more fabric. “You really layered up, huh, Captain?”

He nearly chokes at her use of his title, never liking it falling from anyone else’s lips as much as he does hers, and nods. “A winter storm requires prep-- preparation,” he stutters.

His eyes grow about twice their size and his breathing completely stops as she sinks to her knees before him, making her smirk as she looks up at him through her lashes in a way that she knows drives him mad. She’s practically buzzing as she looks up at his bare chest, the veins in his arms popping out tantalizingly as she runs her nose along the soft fabric of his long underwear.

The sounds he makes are unintelligible, and she’s found that that is exactly what she seeks when she gets on her knees before him: to have him in such ecstasy that he can hardly make sense of his words. She bites at the fabric so that she can pull it down, his cock springing free so that she can lightly scratch her fingers through the hair at the base. She loves the way he’s peppered with white all over, and she knows he likes her appreciation for it. The fact is, she can’t get enough of his perfectly sculpted body, the spatterings of silver and black making her heart skip a beat each time she thinks about him.

She can tell when she’s about to take it too far based on the way he struggles to keep his hips still, so she slows her movements and releases him with a pop, licking her lips as she looks up at him seductively.

“Do you want me?” she asks in a low, growling whisper that’s only just audible over the sounds of the wind picking up just outside the door.

“If I ever don't immediately say yes to that question, please smother me with a pillow. It means my age has caught up to me.”

“Impossible,” she chastises, standing slowly and removing her own sweater. “You may be old, but I know you’re young at heart.”

He shakes his head at her, moving quickly to scoop her into his arms until her ankles are locked around his waist. “What did we say about respecting your elders?” he growls into her ear, biting at the lobe as he walks them towards the bed.

With a hum, she asks, “are you going to punish me, Captain?” and he tosses her gracefully onto the mattress in response.

“Perhaps I'll simply make you beg.”

“Oh, I'm not above begging. I happen to know you’re quite the catch, so it'll be worth it.”

“Are you making fishing jokes while I’m trying to seduce you?”

The smirk she gives him is telling as he pulls her leggings over her hips and bites into her flesh, making her jump slightly. “Oh! I thought I was supposed to nibble on your rod?”

“Emma,” he laughs breathlessly.

She breathes out a laugh as well as he drags his tongue along her folds, not quite touching her where she needs him. “You really know how to lure me in, what can I say.” He bites the inside of her thigh silently, making her laugh aloud and then stutter as his tongue finds her clit. He keeps it there only momentarily, moving away in favor of peppering soft kisses around her thighs and over her hips. “Stop teasing,” she whines with her eyes squeezed shut, and he can see her smile growing before she says, “or should I say… baiting.”

He growls playfully as he hurries up the length of her body, decidedly punishing her by refusing to put his mouth on her center, although he doesn't think she minds as his lips collide with hers and his fingers plunge into her entrance. “You’re quite funny,” he says against her mouth as he expertly curls his fingers up against the sensitive spot inside her.

“Tha-- thank you,” she says, struggling to get the words out around her gasps and moans. “W-will you-- mmm, Killian.”

“Yes, my love?” he whispers as he sucks a bruise into her neck.

“Fuck me.”

He hums thoughtfully, slowing his fingers and pulling away from her so that he can purse his lips in pensivity. “No, I don’t think I will,” he tells her, his tone serious but the sparkle in his eyes anything but.

“Killian,” she whines, giving him a pout and gasping as he flicks his fingers over her clit.

She’s about to go mad, both with need and with absolute irritation at him, before he places his lips at the shell of her ear, lining his hardened cock up to her entrance, and whispers, “I’d much rather make love to you,” as he thrusts inside.

Emma doesn’t even have time, never mind the wherewithal, to berate him for his jest. She clings her fingertips into the backs of his strong shoulders, weathered by the sun and battered with the exhaustion of his livelihood. Their mouths fuse together tightly, neither of them willing to be any further from the other than they absolutely have to.

She whimpers against his lips as he strokes his fingers against her expertly, touching her exactly as she needs him to. He pulls slightly from her kiss, his mouth hovering over hers, and she knows he’s going to ask if she’s alright without him needing to.

Rather than wait for the question, she says, “I love you,” into the barely open space between them.

Killian doubles down on his efforts, driving into her with passion and love, the likes of which she’s never felt before. He breathes his love for her into every inch of her skin, his movements echoing his words until she gives him one last warning whimper and they fall apart in each other’s arms.

“I love you,” he whispers against her skin. “You mean everything to me.”

She gives him a soft smile, running her fingers soothingly into his hair as he collapses against her chest, his own heaving with each breath. “I certainly got more than I bargained for when I came here.”

“Aye.”

“Before I came,” she whispers, pausing to collect her thoughts. “Before I met you, it was like I was sinking. Like I could barely stay above water and I was one big wave away from capsizing.”

He smirks against her skin, chuffed at her nautical references despite his teasing earlier, and says, “I believe I know what you mean, angel.”

“And then I met you, and it was like I jumped overboard.” Turning his head so that he can look up at her, he raises a brow. “I was clinging to this dinky little boat that was sinking, you know? I was clinging to this idea of how my life couldn’t have gone. But I met you and you showed me that it’s okay when things don’t go the way we hope they will. You helped me see that it’s okay to let go, because…” she shrugs, busying her fingers in his hair. “Well, I guess because there was a life raft waiting for me. You.”

With a deep blush, he shakes his head in disbelief of the woman before him, pressing a kiss to her chest before pressing up onto his elbows and finding her lips with his. “I love you,” he whispers. “You’ve changed my life for the better, you know. I was quite the half-drunken recluse before you came to town.”

“I know,” she whispers with a satisfied smile. “We make quite the pair.”

“That we do.”

They lie in comfortable silence for a few more moments, Killian’s arms wrapped around Emma and his head on her chest as her fingers continue their ministrations through his hair. Eventually and reluctantly, they remember that they’re meant to meet her parents at Granny’s for dinner, and peel themselves off of one another just long enough to make it to the shower. They clean each other, after dirtying themselves once more under the water, and resign themselves to the difficulty they have keeping their hands off of one another.

Once at dinner, they tame themselves as much as they can, but neither of them miss the narrow-eyed looks being shot their way by David and Mary Margaret. Killian can’t help himself, though. She makes him feel alive; like a teenager in love for the first time. At the end of the night, after his confession that he plans to never sail through a storm again if it will ease his love’s worries, David shakes his hand and claps his shoulder wordlessly.

Three months later, after they’ve moved the rest of Emma’s things into his small cottage, she walks into the kitchen and catches him laughing elatedly with her mother before being pulled in for a tight hug. She wants to ask what they’re so excited about, but stops herself to take in the sight of the two of them finally getting along. It means so much more than her mom liking her boyfriend.

Their life together is perfection-- everything they could have hoped for and more-- and he can’t wait to ask her to spend the rest of it by his side.

~~~~

Tagging: @courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschatzi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18 @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89 @swampmedusa @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @ouatpost @daxx04 @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @therooksshiningknight @eeteeaytay @xsajx @itsfridaysomewhere @alexa-fangirl-forever @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight @qualitycoffeethings @rapunzelsghosts @spaceconveyor

#cs au #captain swan au #captain swan modern au #Overboard #Cs smut #cs angst #mildly I guess #silver fox Killian #older Killian #cs ff #overboard ff

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shatouto · 3 years

Text

bare his neck on the execution block

[gen fic, 2.5k. obi-wan and anakin discusses ahsoka’s apprenticeship early on. vent fic + character study, sort of. read on ao3]

“…I can’t do this anymore.”

Obi-Wan glances up. Anakin has uttered those words so quietly, so unlike his usual tone of voice when he is upset in some ways. There is none of that off-kilter lilt of minor irritation, nor the somber reverberation of suppressed but boiling rage in his voice. He sounds… defeated, the resignment almost nothing like Obi-Wan has heard before – and that is saying something, considering the ten-odd years they have broken bread and shared quarters and matched blades. Concern sinking coldly in his stomach, he stands up, paces over and settles beside his former apprentice, setting a hand on Anakin’s back in a tentative offer of comfort.

Anakin doesn’t really respond, just slumps lower, his forehead propped against his fingers, his face hidden behind his hands. Obi-Wan keeps his frown to himself, merely brushing his hand up and down Anakin’s back. He has a thousand guesses as to what Anakin means exactly, and no less than nine hundred of them would pertain to this grueling war that has covered their life in a grey pall. But assumptions are the enemy of comprehension; one who speculates will judge instead of listening at all, whereas Obi-Wan strives to be a good listener first and foremost. So he merely asks, “Would you like to talk about it, Anakin?”

Anakin lets out a slightly shuddery sigh. Obi-Wan studies him for another few moments of a silence that is not quite tense, just somewhat suffocating, like the humid air before a rainstorm. His eyes wander from the guarded curve of Anakin’s shoulders to the exhausted slouch of Anakin’s back. Between the back armor plate and ringlets of baby hair at the base of his skull, a pale strip of skin is exposed where his neck slopes like a prisoner bowing over the execution block. Obi-Wan shudders and pushes the intrusive macabre image all the way down to the bottom of his mind. He must focus on the here and now, especially the irregular pulses that spread from Anakin’s signature into the fabric of the Force around him like the throb of a dull ache.

“Ahsoka…” Anakin trails off just as he begins, but the fact that he opened up at all is already a relief. Obi-Wan says nothing, only brings his hand up to cover Anakin’s nape, giving it a grounding squeeze, in a way shielding it from the phantom blade that still haunts his mind’s eye. A minuscule intake of breath – too sharp, too much like the ghost of a sob for Obi-Wan’s liking – preludes Anakin’s wavering voice.

“I can’t—can’t train her, Master.”

Obi-Wan blinks, brows shooting up in surprise. Anakin and his own Padawan haven’t had the easiest of beginnings – what with Yoda’s doublespeak orders that led to misunderstandings and unpleasant surprises on the part of young Master and Padawan both – but Obi-Wan was almost sure that they have smoothed things out between them since. He doesn’t doubt Anakin’s care for his apprentice and Ahsoka’s respect for him likewise.

“I was under the impression that Ahsoka has been making great progress under your tutelage,” Obi-Wan says in a hushed tone, tilting his head down a little, not to force eye contact with Anakin but simply to suggest Anakin to turn to him. “What makes you say so?”

“Everything,” Anakin grits out at once, his voice taking on a watery edge. He slumps down lower, full on burying his face in his hands now, and Obi-Wan’s heart twists. “She’s been making progress because she’s just that good, Master. I didn’t do anything… She’s already trained in the reverse grip before I even taught her anything, remember?” Anakin gives a brittle laugh, breathless and humorless and fooling no one, least of all himself.

Obi-Wan bites the inside of his lips, his forehead creasing deeply in frowns as he shifts closer and slides his arm around Anakin’s shoulders in reassurance. “Lightsaber techniques are not nearly everything about being a Jedi, and you know it, Anakin. She needs a Master—”

“Then I’m not what she needs! I’m not a Master!” Anakin’s voice climbs to a near-cry. He takes in a shaky, stuttery breath and suddenly turns towards Obi-Wan, his eyes red-rimmed and downcast, a miserable frown etched into the downturned corners of his mouth. “I can’t pretend to be one anymore. I can’t take this anymore!”

Anakin’s pain pierces through his word and lodges into Obi-Wan’s heart as well. “Anakin…”

“There’s so much to do. I have to lead my battalion, I—I have to fight this war. We all have to, but I… I don’t know! I can’t do so many things at once! I can’t do right by her like this,” Anakin continues, sniffling, his flesh hand clawing into his gloved one so hard that his fingers blanch from the pressure. “I’m just—I just got Knighted this year, I don’t know anything about this. Aayla is even older than me. Why did <i>I</i> have to be the one to take on a Padawan? What, am I the only Knight in the Order who’s available to take an apprentice? I don’t get it. Anybody could have taught her better than I do.”

“Anakin, that isn’t true—”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” Anakin unceremoniously cuts him off, his voice dripping with dismissal and disdain – at himself. He glares up and flinches back as soon as he meets Obi-Wan’s eyes as though only realizing then what he has been trying to hide. His gaze immediately drops, but by then Obi-Wan already saw the furious tears in his eyes. “Don’t lie just to reassure me,” Anakin mutters, roughly dragging his hand over his eyes. “Anybody else would’ve been better for her. You know that, the Council knows that, Ahsoka knows that.”

Anakin droops completely, and Obi-Wan finds it somehow both relieving and alarming that Anakin isn’t pushing off. Anakin’s need for comfort – physical comfort, especially – is nearly always at war with Anakin’s need to prove himself capable of handling everything on his own. This certainly isn’t unique to him; what is unique to him is the intense manner in which he feels, no less aggravated by the expectations that he carries on his shoulder and his incredible attunement to the Force. This is not the first time Anakin has broken down in tears from the stress of it all – his words, in fact, distinctly remind Obi-Wan of that one occasion, years ago, where he begged Obi-Wan to quiet the noise in his mind and take away the burden of being the Chosen One – but the pain it brings to Obi-Wan’s chest is the same.

“I’m sorry, Padawan mine,” Obi-Wan murmurs, squeezing Anakin lightly. He regrets making light of it when it turned out that Ahsoka was to be assigned to Anakin instead of him, to the young Knight’s surprise. He regrets taking it for granted that Anakin would just find a way to get along with this fourteen-year-old Padawan – an adolescent chock in the middle of her rebellious years and prone to challenging any authority, especially the one closest to her, the most insecure and inexperienced figure of authority, the easiest one to snip and quip at. At least when he took on Anakin as a Padawan himself, Anakin was only nine – unsure and outright frightful of his new life, but sweet and earnest – which allowed Obi-Wan a period of respite before the boy’s childish idolatry turned into a teenager’s testiness and brooding.

It’s easy to see Anakin as older than the nineteen-year-old he is; easy to believe him as capable and competent as he tries to prove himself to be; easy to consider him as bearing the full responsibility of a Jedi Knight and more, for being a prodigy, for having accomplished what he had. It’s much harder – and much more painful, especially for him who loves Anakin so – to dwell over and over on the fact that Anakin struggles in ways that one can neither fathom nor help with. There are burdens Anakin cannot share with him, phantom blades that will hurt Anakin only even if Obi-Wan volunteers to bare his neck on the execution block in his stead.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan repeats. “I did not know you were suffering. I should have stood up for you – and I would, had you objected the apprenticeship.” He pauses for a moment, rubbing up and down Anakin’s arm in soothing motions. “Why did you not say anything?”

Anakin leans limply against him, the remaining tension in his body suggesting exhaustion rather than relaxation. Obi-Wan simply holds up that weight with his own. He has always thought of it this way: if he cannot bear his former Padawan’s burden for or with him, then the least he could do is to provide shelter, absorb his hurt, cushion his fall. He would embrace Anakin’s fire with both arms until all the stars in the universe have burned out, and even then.

“I didn’t want to,” Anakin shudders out the words, turning and hiding his face in the crook of Obi-Wan’s shoulder like he’s a Padawan again and Obi-Wan welcomes the gesture like ocean waves cradling the setting sun. Anakin often hid in closets or even cracks in the wall as a child – until he apparently discovered that the safest hiding place in the universe was where he could tuck his head under his Master's chin and let himself be covered by Obi-Wan's great billowing sleeves. “Didn’t want to hurt her feelings. She’d feel rejected,” Anakin mumbles. “And… I don’t know. It felt like a mission – being her Master, I mean. I don’t—I don’t want to refuse a mission.”

“Anakin, you…” Obi-Wan lays his cheek atop Anakin’s head, letting his eyes fall shut for a moment in frustration at himself. Inane question, Kenobi. Of course he would not even try to say no to the Grandmaster’s order. This is not the time to think about who to blame, yet Obi-Wan cannot help feeling immediately at fault. He knows and has always known Anakin to be this way, ruled by not only pride but a deep-seated fear of being seen as anything less than utterly competent and fearless. He knows better than most, and so he should have known better. Of all people, he should have been the one to check on Anakin, discuss his feelings with him, speak up for him.

And how hard must it have been? How hard was it to earn the respect of someone barely five years your junior? How hard was it to assert your authority over someone you would rather just be a good friend to, just because you need to prove yourself to the authority above you? How hard was it to do all of that while trying to grow into the too-large mantle of General of the Republic, at the age of nineteen?

“Forgive me, Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispers, shattering inside out – from guilt and in empathy. “You are not wrong – it was a difficult and awkward situation you were in. I’m truly sorry. I wish I had come to your aid sooner.”

“I feel like I never got to be a Knight,” Anakin mumbles into the crook of his neck, his voice nasal and dangerously close to cracking. The confession is a bolt to Obi-Wan’s heart. It was how he’d felt as well, when he took Anakin under his wing immediately after his hasty graduation that followed Qui-Gon’s death. But at least it was a choice he made himself – a choice he doesn’t at all regret, looking back. He can say so with surety and fondness. Can Anakin even say so about his own apprentice? Anakin didn’t have any say in the matter to begin with. Even if he has grown close to Ahsoka, he is clearly tormented by the responsibilities that have been thrust upon him.

“It’s not like I don’t like her,” Anakin adds all of a sudden, shuffling up a little bit, clearly disquieted by Obi-Wan’s pensive silence. “She’s brilliant, I just… I’m going to fail her. I know I will. I’m not you. I wouldn’t have been able to do this even if I were twenty-five and she was nine.”

“Anakin, no,” Obi-Wan firmly hushes, frowning. Comparisons hurt. A comparison without context can poison self-perception like nothing else. He wraps his arms tighter around Anakin. “Please do not say such things. We are different – because we are different people. Look—Can you look at me, Padawan?”

He cradles Anakin’s face, and Anakin looks up through matted, darkened lashes, slightly biting down on his lower lip. With a tone as gentle as he can possibly muster, Obi-Wan speaks.

“If you’re thinking you aren’t capable of being a Master, or a good Master, then I assure you that isn’t true. I have seen your capacity for teaching, both in your methods and the results thereof. You have made progress just as Ahsoka did. I have faith in you, Anakin. However”—Obi-Wan absentmindedly wipes half a droplet of tear at the corner of Anakin’s scarred eye with the pad of his thumb—“what matters is whether you want to continue this apprenticeship. You are capable, but being capable of doing something doesn’t necessarily mean you have to force yourself to do it. Do you understand?”

Anakin watches him with a wariness that has Obi-Wan’s heart aching almost physically. It pains him so, when Anakin feels the need to tread carefully when speaking to him; he’d rather Anakin balk and brag and act brash than this. “I do, Obi-Wan,” Anakin utters syllable by syllable, chewing on his lip. “I just—don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”

His voice is rough and fragile at the same time, tearing at the raw edges like a gauze that Obi-Wan wishes he could singlehandedly hem. Anakin looks drained, with circles under his eyes that suggest he would’ve looked ashen if it wasn’t for the flush of fury and frustration from earlier, and puffed-up eyelids that look ready to shut for the rest of the day. Obi-Wan holds back a sigh and brushes Anakin’s hair from his face, tucking it behind his ear.

“That’s alright, Padawan mine,” he says, prompting Anakin to draw closer to him with a light touch. Thankfully, Anakin does, and finally wraps his arms around Obi-Wan in a returning embrace this time. “That’s quite alright. You don’t have to decide everything right now. You can take your time and rest – you’ve done enough.”

Anakin lets out a sigh so deep that Obi-Wan can physically feel the way his chest constricts against his own body. He wraps Anakin’s signature with his presence in the Force, lighting up candle after candle in the gloomy aftermath of the hurricane. Anakin shudders, and whispers. “Thank you, Master.”

“Anytime, dear one,” Obi-Wan says against the crown of his head, softly stroking his hair. “I’m here. I’ll be here.” And I will stay by your side for as long as you will have me. Here I am and here I shall remain, be it to hold up the night sky before it crumbles in your chest or patch up the stars that burn and bleed from invisible blades. I will, until the day I cannot do it any longer.

#anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #shatou writes #star wars prequels #canon is indeed questionable don’t you think

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babymetaldoll · 3 years

Text

Danger Days - Chapter seventeen: “Falling into pieces”

Word count: 7,8K

Summary: Joey talks with Matthew for the first time ever since breaking up. Gerard opens up with Mikey about his true feelings for Joey.

Warnings: Cursing, angst, mention of sexual assault.

A/N: Do you think Matthew is gonna be excited to be a dad?

Masterlist

Matthew kept asking his mom what time it was. He had been doing the same ever since he woke up around ten in the morning. He was anxious. His whole body hurt; he was suffering from several wounds, but still, what hurt him the most was not being able to talk to his girl.

- "Hey"- Paget whispered as she walked into the room with two cups of coffee- "Hello Marilyn, I brought you this."

- "Thank you, honey"- the two women hugged for a second, then the actress walked to her friend.

- "How do you feel?"

- "Like I was in a car crash, literally"- he answered and smiled- "I'm ok. My knee is still in place, which is amazing. I thought I was going to return to the crutches for another six months."

- "You are very lucky, your car is smashed... I can't believe you don't have a scratch."

- "I have many, many bruises, doesn't that count?"- Matthew whispered, still in pain.

- "I think it does"- his friend joked- "I got you these"- Paget opened a bag and put on the bed all the stuffed animals the young man had made- "I took all the stuff from your car, I had the feeling you might need these."

- "Thank you"- he softly smiled and looked at the handmade toys.

- "Everybody says hi"- Paget tried to take Matthew away from any sad thoughts he had- "Do you know when you will be discharged?"

- "No, the doctor said a couple more days."

- "Again, a car crash."

- "Yeah..."- Matthew smiled at his friend, and she smiled back- "Thank you for being here."

- "That's what friends do... hey, can I get you something to eat?"

- "I'm ok."

- "I'm not coming until tomorrow, so I'm gonna go get you some candy for later"- Paget turned around and left the room for a few minutes.

- "What time is it, mom?"

- "It's noon, baby"- she answered and walked to him, kissing his forehead- "Try to sleep a little more, I'll wake you up when she calls, ok?"- he nodded and closed his eyes. He really couldn't wait anymore.

Gerard looked at Joey warming up at the other side of the room, her eyes closed, her headphones on. He sighed, thinking she wasn't in love with him. She had never been. Not like he was, at least. She wasn't going to be his. Not without a fight. Could he win a battle against Matthew? He was a cheater, but Gerard was married. That made him a cheater too.

- "Hey!"- Mikey's hand smacking his arm took him from his thoughts- "Why are you staring at her?"

- "I was just... thinking about... nothing, I guess."

- "I'm starting to think maybe Frank is right"- and Gerard turned to his younger brother pretending to be insulted.

- "Don't be stupid."

- "Then stop drooling. You are not fooling anyone!"

- "Come on, kids! It's showtime!"- Jeffrey walked in clapping his hands- "Joey! You too!"- he yelled, and the girl took out her headphones.

- "What?"

- "Show, now! Come on!"

- "Sorry"- the girl smiled and sprinted over the band. Frank's arms locked around her as he stood in the hallway next to the stage and kissed her shoulder upon her Megadeth t-shirt.

- "Take care"- and the drummer rolled her eyes.

- "I'm gonna be sitting moving my arms. I don't see the danger."

- "I'm just saying"- she smiled, and she leaned to kiss his cheek.

- "You make it so hard to hate you, Jersey."

- "That's what my wife always says."

- "I love your wife so fucking much."

- "I love her too"- he chuckled- "Have you ever noticed our conversations always end up being weird?"- and she smiled.

- "That's 'cos you are so fucking weird, Frank"

Joey couldn't help but laugh in deep joy for a second. She loved her job and her bandmates. She was finally where she always wanted to get as a drummer. Her personal life was a mess, though. Was that the price to pay to be successful? Getting a shitty love life and a whole mess in your head?

- "I finally get what happened with Andy, in Devil Wears Prada... I hated that fucking movie, but shit, I feel just like her now."

The kids at that show were on fire, which helped the weary band perform better. It was getting harder and harder to keep on playing after all those months of touring. They all needed to get a few days off to sleep and do nothing. Traveling was exhausting. Joey had never thought about that until this leg of the tour.

- "Danke Germany!"- Gerard yelled, and the crowd yelled right away. Mikey turned his back to the kids and looked at Joey smiling. She looked happy when they were on stage. That's why he always kept an eye on her when they were performing.

- "Give me all your fucking money!"- Gerard shouted, announcing the next song- Well, are you ready, Ray?

- "Yeah!"

- "How about you, Frank?"- and Iero made the weirdest noises on the mic

- "How about you, Joey?"- and the girl widened her eyes smiling as Gerard stood in front of the drum, reaching out the mic to her.

- "Yeah!"- and Gerard grinned.

- "How about you, Mikey?"

- "Fucking ready!"

- "I think I'm alright! One, two, three, four!!"

It felt for a minute like she wasn't the supporting drummer but one of the band. And it felt incredible.

The hospital was busy. Nurses and doctors walked outside in the hallways. Matthew was trying to concentrate on anything, but he couldn't take his eyes off his phone. They had brought him lunch already, but he wasn't hungry- and Paget had left him an obscene amount of candy- so he left the tray untouched. He only had the jelly. And only because his mother forced him.

He was weary though, he felt hurt, physically beaten. He was taking it like a champ 'cos he didn't want to scare his mom, but in reality, he was shocked. He had never realized how short life could be. He had never had any kind of experience like this before, and this one showed him one thing: the important things in life are the simplest. The ones you take for granted.

- "What do I love the most in life? My family, watching my nephews grow up, my mom... Yami, my Yami's smile, her voice... everything about her"- Matthew's eyes were stuck in his cellphone's screen as he thought about everything that had happened in the last days- "If there is one thing I need every day for the rest of my life is having her next to me. I'm not gonna let her go, no matter what".

If he could travel in time and slap himself, he would. He would also kick himself in the nuts and never go to that party at all. But he couldn't. And he had to live with it. Somehow.

Joey yelled goodnight to her friends and ran out of the van to her room before anyone could say anything to her. On the ride back to the hotel, they had all been briefed about the next day. They were leaving at seven in the morning. They had to meet in the lobby. They had press and a radio interview in Copenhagen at one. And Joey had the chance to stay at the hotel and rest. Everybody told her to do so. And she didn't argue with that, she wanted to rest, and most of all, she didn't want to be at any interview or close to Gerard.

- "Goodnight, kids!"- she yelled and waved as she ran to the elevator. Gerard looked at her with a sorry glance, and his brother caught it right away.

- "Are you ok?"- Mikey asked and raised an eyebrow.

- "What? Yeah, I'm just tired"- the Way brothers looked at each other, both of them knowing the oldest was lying.

- "Sure... just don't let your exhaustion get in the way"- Mikey stated and walked away.

- "Wait, what the fuck?"- Gerard asked, making the, most likely, wrong decision to follow his younger brother.

- "Come on, Gerard! Stop denying it! You have a crush on her"- and Gerard groaned, exhausted from the same conversation. Mainly because he was running out of excuses to prove people wrong.

- "So do you! So does everybody! 'Cos you are all telling me the same shit over and over again when I don't!"- the brothers got into the elevator on their own and continued arguing.

- "I fucking know you! And I can't believe I didn't see it before! You are fucking drooling all the time! You look like a fucking teenager!"

- "Oh! shut up!"- Gerard frowned and crossed his arms on his chest- "I don't have a crush on her. I am a happily married man! Just because you have been obsessed with her ever since you met her doesn't mean so am I!" They stayed in silence for a couple of minutes until the door opened on their floor, and both stepped out of the elevator.

- "Have you tried to get anything with her?"- Mikey asked and followed his brother to his room.

- "I don't wanna talk about this"- Gerard simply answered.

- "Which means yes."

- "No, I haven't 'cos I don't like her! I have no feelings for her!"- stains of red hair dye were on Gerard's neck as he scratched it, tired of the conversation, and at the same time tired of denying the truth. One part of him wanted to tell his brother, to have someone to finally open up.

- "I don't want you to hurt her, Gerard."

- "Thank you for being concerned about her the most, instead of your brother"- Gerard snorted and opened his door, followed by his brother. He took out his shoes and laid on his bed like a dead man.

- "I care about her, and if you have feelings for her, you are fucked up!"

And suddenly, it was just too much for Gerard.

- "I know"- the singer whispered, and his brother's chest tightened at those words- "Do you think I want this? It's fucking agony! She stays as far away from me as possible, and she rejected me when I told her how I feel"- Gerard chuckled at his words- "Can you believe that? It's high school all over again! She keeps pushing me away each time I try to get closer to her, ever since the beginning."

Mikey widened his eyes, listening to his brother's confession, as he stood in front of him in shock.

- "You told her you like her?"

- "Yeah"- Gerard whispered and sighed, defeated. It was useless to deny the truth anymore- "I told her I loved her from day one."

- "Did you try to... kiss her?"

- "I succeeded, actually. After months of longing and thinking about it, I kissed her...."

- "What did she do?"- Mikey was whispering, not believing a word. Had Joey kissed his brother?

- "She stopped, told me to get away from her... and when I tried again, and she kissed me back. I thought, "Shit Gerard, you nailed it, she likes you too!" but then she called me Matthew"- Gerard's voice shook, and his brother looked at him, nearly shocked. Was he going to cry? Was he that affected by the drummer?

- "When did you..."

- "After the show in Valencia."

- "You sick bastard! She was drunk!!"- the youngest Way nearly yelled and kept walking across the room, brushing his hands against his face and making a serious effort not to hit his brother- "What the fuck Gerard?! She was intoxicated, and you tried to kiss her?"

- "I didn't try. I told you I succeeded! It was so good, it felt so fucking right"- the singer made a pause and wiped off the few tears that fell from his eyes.

- "I can't believe it! You abused her when she was drunk!" - but Gerard ignored the accusation and continued talking.

- "She wasn't drunk the first time, by the way"- and Mikey frowned.

- "You kissed her more than once!"

- "Yeah, that day you left me alone with her... it was so sweet, so tender..."

- "She was fucking depressed, crying, and affected by her boyfriend!! Gerard! What the fuck is your problem!! It's the sickest shit I've ever heard you do!"

- "Don't you think I feel like the shit too? I know I fucked it up! I just couldn't help it! I love her! I can't stand the fact she is suffering for an asshole who cheated on her! I need to fix her! I needed to..."- but Mikey didn't let him finish.

- "You are married. You don't have the moral to judge Gubler for cheating!"

- "I know"

- "And you love her? You are married! Don't you love Lynz anymore?"

- "I love her so much, Mikey! That's what's killing me too! 'Cos I love both of them! I wanna be with both! I need to have them both!"

- "Dude... that shit is sick!"- Mikey was shaken.

- "I know! That's the worst part. I know what I feel is wrong! I can't love Joey. I can't mess things with her 'cos she works with us and is fantastic as our drummer. But at the same time, it's like she is a magnet I can't keep away from! Like she is my earth, and I'm her moon, orbiting around her!"

Gerard sat down and started crying.

- "I don't know what's wrong with me! From day fucking one! I looked at her, and I knew she was going to be the end of me! And I've been dealing with this all along..."

Mikey had no idea what to do. He was in shock. Sure, he knew Gerard was weird around Joey, but he never thought it would be this bad. He always thought he didn't like her. And it turned out to be the complete opposite.

- "Until this morning, I was sure she was going to leave, not only for her stupid boyfriend but because of what happened..."

- "That's why she had been giving you the cold shoulder"- Mikey whispered, thinking out loud.

- "And I deserve it, I guess. I kissed her and told her I loved her... what the fuck is my problem?"

- "I don't know, but you really fucked it up"- Mikey nodded in silence at his statement and finally sat next to Gerard. His older brother brushed his hands against his face and wiped off the tears.

- "I feel I love her, you know? Like... a fucking piece of my heart I never knew was missing just appeared, and I need to keep her close, no matter what, 'cos if I don't, I'm gonna die."

- "Well, you are gonna have to learn to let that part go, 'cos there is no way, and I mean it, no way she is ever going to be with you."

Mikey was brutally honest, in part 'cos he was mad at Gerard, but mostly because he knew it was the truth. Joey wasn't in love with him. And even if she was, she would never let him leave his wife for her.

- "I know... and yet, I can't stop trying"- Gerard made a pause- "I hated you so bad for being so close to her... you are all so fucking close to her."

- "I always thought it was weird you were so distant."

- "I didn't know how to act around her. She smiles, and I have no fucking clue what to say."

- "You are fucked."

- "Yeah"- the two of them made a long pause.

- "You are gonna have to get rid of your feelings, Gerard."

- "I know... any clue how?"

- "No..."

- "And knowing right now she is talking to him, that shit kills me"- Mikey sighed. That was killing him too. But he didn't say a word.

The computer was on the bed. Joey sat in front of it, FaceTime was open, but she still couldn't find the guts to press "call." She just stared at the screen and sighed. She wanted to know about him, she was worried about his health after the accident. But she didn't know how to deal with it. With the whole "you broke my heart" part of the conversation.

- "Ok, let's do this. And you are not talking about any feeling, just about his health. It's gonna be a short call."

And not thinking about it again, she started the video call.

- "Hello baby!"- Marilyn's face filled the screen, and Joey's body shook with fear, anxiety, and excitement.

- "Hi! How are you?"

- "Great! How was the show?"

- "It was amazing! The kids were nuts today!"- and Joey yawned- "But I am dead, sorry. I just showered and put on my pajamas."

- "That's ok..."- there was a silence, Joey knew what was gonna happen, and she decided to treat it like a band-aid

- "And how's Matthew?"- she just ripped it off, pretending it didn't hurt

- "He is right here. He has been waiting for your call all day."

- "Mom!"- he whined, embarrassed. Joey had to bite her lips not to smile as she heard his voice somewhere near the phone. She felt her body shaking at that sound.

- "I'm gonna let you two kids talk. I'll be outside, bye honey!"

- "Bye Marilyn!"

Joey waved at the screen and noticed all the movements when the phone left the woman's hand. Two seconds later, Matthew's face filled the screen, and her heart stopped. He was bruised. He looked severely hurt. And yet, he had a massive smile on her lips as soon as he saw her.

His heart started beating so fast on his chest as soon as he laid eyes on her, he was sure one of the machines around him was going to start beeping. Neither of them said a word for a moment. They just stared.

- "FaceTiming him was a mistake. A normal call would have been so much better,"- Joey thought and took a deep breath before saying- "Hey, how do you feel?"

- "Good... I'm good. It looks worse than it is, maybe 'cos I get bruised a lot... 'cos I'm so white and... I'm a peach"- Matthew started rambling.

- "What happened?"- Joey stopped his rambling 'cos she knew he could go for hours.

- "A truck missed a red light and hit my car, but I'm ok, really... not even a broken bone."

- "What about your knee?"

- "It's still in place."

- "Now that's a miracle!"- Joey chuckled and regretted it right away, she was melting, and hearing Matthew's laughter like a cascade of joy didn't help either. Her heart kept racing, and her palms were sweating.

- "Yeah! I thought I was gonna have to spend another year in those crutches."

- "It's a good thing they are still in your closet."

- "A part of me knew I was stupid enough to injure myself again"- the actor smiled and shrugged. However, that movement hurt, and he involuntarily winced in pain.

- "Are you ok?"

- "Yeah, I just... forgot that hurts"- Joey nodded and looked at him. She wanted to end that call before she would burst into tears, which was about to happen any second now.

He was the father of her child. They were having a baby together, and he had no idea. All the thoughts spinning around her head were too much. It scared her to think about how everything was going to be when it came to the moment to talk about it, and she was sure that the moment wasn't that one.

- "Well, you should rest. I just wanted to know if you were ok, and..."- the girl started saying, but Matthew stopped her.

- "Wait, no... don't hang up yet"- his voice was a plea, and desperation came from each word he spoke, even his eyes looked at her with sadness and longing- "Please talk to me."

- "We are talking. You are clearly in pain. Maybe you should rest."

- "Please, don't go. I needed to talk to you for so long."

- "No, Matthew."

- "I need you to listen. I need you to forgive me."

- "No, Matthew, I'm tired; I don't wanna do this, not now, not ever. I just called to know if you were ok. I can see you are not half as bad as I imagined, which makes me happy. But I don't wanna talk about us."

- "Fine, that's ok, we don't have to talk about us, let's talk about anything else."

- "Matthew"- Joey knew just talking to him about the weather was a threat. Why? 'Cos he was charming, and she loved him. She didn't want to forgive him, and seeing his face wasn't helping in keeping that resolution.

- "Please, tell me, how was your day?"- she sighed and looked away, locking her eyes in her nails- "How was the show?"

- "It was good"

- "When do you leave for Denmark?"

- "Tomorrow at seven."

- "It should be a long drive from Hamburg"- Matthew was honestly desperate to make conversation, and the subject made it obvious.

- "Jeffrey said four hours, time I plan to spend sleeping."

- "Are you doing any more press with the band?"- at that minute, anything that came through Gubler's head that could help him keep her in line was a good subject.

- "I hope not, at least not tomorrow"- Joey kept staring at her nails, avoiding his eyes. Matthew couldn't stop staring at her, sitting on her bed, in pajama, obviously exhausted but still talking to him. That was a good sign, right?

- "You looked gorgeous at the Valencia show"- he sort of whispered and saw her cheeks turning red of embarrassment- "I told you that was a great outfit."

- "Yeah... I remember"- she sighed and looked at him, raising an eyebrow- "So, did you actually watch it? I thought you would be working at the time."

- "I stopped everything and forced them to watch you play"- Joey chuckled at those words, and Matthew felt he was a tiny baby step closer to win her back- "I wasn't going to miss it. It was my chance to see you live, and you kicked ass." The girl felt the blush in her cheeks as she looked at her fingers again, playing with them on the blanket of the bed.

- "Thanks..."- Matthew stayed quiet for a moment, just looking at her.

- "You look so beautiful tonight"- but she raised her eyes and frowned

- "Don't"

- "Sorry"- he whispered and sighed- "So... Paget came to see me today"- that was the only thing that came to his mind

- "How is she?"

- "Good, she bought me so many candies I'm gonna have a sugar rush until Halloween"- and he chuckled.

- "I'm jealous. Mikey took away all my candy today."

- "Why?"- the boy frowned.

- "He said I can't have that much sugar"- and Joey bit her tongue. She couldn't eat that much sugar being pregnant. She was pregnant with Matthew's baby.

- "What is he? The sugar police?"- and the girl slightly smiled.

- "Yeah, I guess he is."

- "How is he?"

- "He hates you."

- "I guess everybody hates me, I hate me... mom hates me."

- "I surely doubt it."

- "Believe me, she does."

- "Anyway, we are not talking about that..."

- "Are we ever going to talk about that?"- and Joey knew the answer to that - "Yes, I guess we will... we have to talk, "But not about what you are thinking, cheater."

- "Good, great, yeah, awesome, we have to talk, I need to..."- but Joey stopped him again.

- "Not now, not today. When I come back to Los Angeles, we can meet, have a coffee and talk about it." Matthew nodded. He didn't have another choice but to agree with her terms. He wanted to talk to her, and he had to go along with her flow to win her back. Not along with his desires.

- "Do you want me to pick you from the airport?"

- "No thanks, I can take a cab."

- "You are gonna bring a million bags..."

- "I can handle it, don't worry"- her voice was so serious. Matthew knew he shouldn't insist.

- "Ok... how's your mom and dad?"

- "They are ok. They miss me."

- "I miss you too, so fucking much."

- "Ok, gonna hung up now."

- "I'm sorry, I just.... needed to see you."

- "And you saw me, and I wanted to know if you are ok, and now I know you are, so... I guess we are both..."- but no word came from Joey's lips for a second. She just zoned out, looking at Matthew- "I guess I should go, I have to get up real early, and I'm tired."

- "Of course, I don't wanna keep you up."

- "I'll call you when I get to Los Angeles."

- "Yes, please, let me know you are ok."

- "Do you know when you'll be discharged?"

- "In two days."

- "Good"- she nodded and bit her lips- "Ok, so, talk to you in a few days."

- "Yes... well... would it be ok if I called you sometime?"- she didn't know what to say- "Or text you, or something... just to make sure you are alright."

- "I'm alright."

- "I still get worried about you... traveling and all"- she looked at him, there was so much sorrow in his eyes, in his words.

- "You can text me if you want"- and a sigh of relief left his lips.

- "Thanks... now go to sleep."

- "Yeah, I will."

- "I love you"- he said, knowing those words might upset her, but he wasn't able to keep them in his chest any longer- "And I swear I'm gonna do whatever it takes to show you how sorry I am for fucking things up."

- "Bye, Matthew. Take care and say hello to your mom from me"- Joey ignored his last words and watched him for a few more seconds.

- "Talk to you later"- he murmured, fighting the tears that kept coming to his eyes

- "Bye"- Joey hung up and shut down the computer. In less than a second, she started crying, her heartbreaking and beating filled with love at the same time. Seeing him, hearing him. It was all too much.

- "How can I stop fucking loving you?! How on earth can you stop loving someone?!"

And as odd as it might be, Gerard was asking himself the very same question a few rooms away from her.

::: Denmark, March 15th, 2011 :::

Ray's arm felt numb underneath Joey's neck. But he didn't want to move it and wake her up. They were at the back of the bus, probably an hour away from Copenhagen. The girl had slept most of the trip after puking breakfast. The two of them had spent the whole journey there, with Mikey, mostly sleeping. They were all exhausted.

- "Hey guys!"- until Frank walked in and woke Mikey and Joey up- "Sorry, I didn't know you were sleeping"- he stood at the door with a sorry glance- "I wanted to ask you if you wanted to do the setlist now, 'cos we have been playing the same one for the last three shows, and it would be nice to make a few changes"- Ray nodded as Joey sat down, yawning.

- "Are we there yet?"

- "Not yet, Bug"- Ray smiled and moved his arm, feeling numbness and tingling- "Do you feel ok?"

- "Yeah, I'm hungry."

- "Here"- Mikey quickly grabbed a bag and gave her a cereal bar- "I got you healthy snacks when we stopped a while ago"- and he smiled, showing her a paper bag- "We've got everything you need to keep my nephew growing healthy."

- "Thanks"- she whispered, feeling awkward still just talking about her pregnancy like a common thing. She still didn't (or couldn't) believe she was pregnant.

- "So, setlist"- Frank sat next to his friends and started writing. They were halfway there when Iero turned to Joey and smiled- "Bug, pick a song"- and she frowned.

- "Why?"

- "We've been shitty friends. We never ask you what you wanna play."

- "That's 'cos I... you know, that's not my job, you are the band, you choose your songs."

- "And I choose you, like a Pokemon"- Frank grinned- "What would you like to play?"- Joey scratched her eyes and yawned again.

- "Vampires."

- "Done!"- and Frank wrote it down- "What else?"- the girl thought about it for a second

- "House of Wolves"- Ray smiled.

- "Loving your choices."

- "Thank you"- Joey finished her cereal bar and smiled- "Thank you, Mikey."

- "You are welcome, Bug"- a hum on the girl's phone caught her attention. It was a text from Matthew.

- "Hope you are having a nice trip"- and her heart raced, her cheek blushed, and her friends frowned.

- "Are you two in better terms?"- Ray asked, knowing neither Mikey nor Frank was going to ask without insulting Matthew.

- "Let's say I'm wrapping my mind around the fact I have to tell him he will be a father. I talked to him about his health, and that was it... nothing about us."

- "But he is texting you"- Mikey pointed out the obvious.

- "Yeah... but we are not back together. And I don't want to forgive him, so I'm ok"- the all nodded- "I just know I'm gonna have to deal with the whole baby thing with him, and I don't know if I wanna be mad at him the whole time"- they all nodded again- "I don't know what I'm doing"- she whispered.

- "If you want, we can say it's my baby"- Frank said with an honest smile- "I give them my last name. Matthew won't have a reason to be close to you, and everything will be awesome"- Joey chuckled at the idea.

- "You are so funny, Iero."

- "I wasn't joking. I can convince Jamia to go through the whole thing."

- "Shut up!"- Joey punched softly Frank's arm and smiled.

- "She wants to talk to you, by the way. Jamia"- the guitarist said and kept writing down in his notebook, avoiding making eye contact with the girl, just in case she would get upset.

- "That's cool."

- "I mean about your baby, in case you need any help... if you want to ask her things... she is there"- Frank finally looked at Joey and bit his lips- "I'm sorry I told her about that"- he made a pause, and Joey shook her head.

- "It's ok. I love Jamia... and I'm sure I'm gonna text her with a million questions in the next nine months, so... thanks"- the girl smiled and messed with Frank's hair. The four of them stayed quiet. Mikey was stuck at his book, Frank looked at the setlist and Ray at their schedule for the day.

- "Where's Gerard?"- Toro asked and looked around. Joey turned to the window, Mikey's eyes stuck at her. He was dying to talk to her about what had happened with his brother. He wanted to know her side of the story.

- "He is at his bunk"- Frank simply replied- "He has been there since we got into the bus."

- "Good, stay away from her,"- Mikey thought and went back to his book. Maybe his brother was doing the right thing for once.

It was three in the morning, and Matthew woke up for the hundredth time that night. It was hard to sleep at the hospital. There were many noises all night long, and nurses that came to put an eye on him. Just two more days, and he could go home. That idea made him happy. Six more days and Joey was going to be back in Los Angeles. The hum of his phone took him from his thoughts, and a smile lodged on his lips immediately.

- "Already in Denmark"- Joey had answered his earlier message.

- "How was the trip?"- he quickly typed and waited, staring at the screen. Joey looked at her phone and held her breath. She was lying on her bed, knowing she wasn't going to get any sleep. The tv was on, the sound in the background of her room made her feel a little less alone.

- "I slept most of the way"- she simply replied and closed her eyes. She felt like a schoolgirl talking with her crush. Decided to avoid her phone, the girl surfed channels for a while. But an incoming text took her complete attention. She wanted to read it so badly, but she didn't want to want to read it. If that made any sense at all.

- "I'm jealous. I can't sleep in this hospital,"- Matthew wrote and sighed. He looked around his room and his eyes laid on the stuffed animals still on the couch by his bed. The ones he had made for her. He just hoped she would like them.

- "Hospitals sucks,"- Matthew chuckled. He could almost listen to her voice saying that as he read it.

- "Food is the worst. I've been living on Paget's candies,"- but that message, Joey didn't reply. He waited for at least ten minutes, but no answer appeared on the screen. He closed his eyes and sighed. He didn't want to push things too fast, but at the same time, he couldn't help it, he needed to talk to her for hours, like before.

Joey was curled in bed, surfing channels, her phone hidden underneath a pillow. She knew talking to Gubler was a bad idea 'cos she loved him. So instead, she hid her phone from her and glued her eyes to the screen. Bad luck for her, "The Aquatic Life with Steve Zissou" was on. It was like life wasn't helping her at all. Matthew was everywhere. Including the movie she watched.

- "I should go get something to eat,"- she typed, giving up at the temptation. Gubler opened his eyes. It took the girl over half an hour to reply.

- "With the guys?"- he wrote quickly

- "No, I'm alone today, they are doing their band shit"- she sat on the bed and put on her shoes- "Talk to you later"- and finished the conversation.

- "Take care,"- Matthew answered quickly. He smiled and closed his eyes, sighing- "Baby steps, Gubler. Baby steps."

- "What the fuck are you doing, asshole?!"- Joey slapped herself mentally- "Stop giving him hopes. You are not getting back together."

Mikey wasn't himself that day. He wasn't mentally there at any of the interviews. His brother was in love with Joey. The thought of Gerard trying to kiss her was hunting him. It was sick. And when she was drunk, when she was sad. He even felt guilty for leaving her with him. Like he was responsible for his mistake.

- "And why the fuck didn't she tell me?! This is huge?! Doesn't she trust me? Isn't this important? I thought we were brother and sister! This is something you share with your brother!"

- "Mikey?"- Frank moved his hand in front of the bassist's face and frowned- "Are you here?"

- "Sorry, I spaced out... what is it?"

- "The interview is over; we can go"- Mikey looked around. He was the only one still sitting at the radio studio.

- "Right."

- "Are you ok?"

- "Yeah."

- "You are quiet."

- "I don't usually talk a lot in interviews."

- "Touché"- Iero chuckled and tapped on his friend's back- "Tired?"

- "Weary"

- "Just a few more days, hang in there"- Mikey nodded and walked with his friend. Gerard looked at him and raised an eyebrow. He didn't reply, not even with a gesture. Mikey just continued walking. He knew what he had to do. He just found it weird.

- "Hey"- he whispered, making sure his brother wasn't going to overhear his conversation and held his cellphone close- "Are you feeling good?"

- "Yeah"- Joey rolled in bed and sighed- "I already had lunch half hour ago, and it's still in my stomach, so I guess I'm awesome"- Mikey smiled.

- "Were you sleeping?"

- "No, just rolling in bed and coloring mandalas from time to time, watching tv."

- "We are going to the hotel now."

- "Great! Are you gonna nap?"

- "I wanted to hang out with you."

- "Great! Bring candies."

- "I'll bring healthy snacks for my nephew"- Joey sighed at those words. She wasn't ready to start talking about her baby.

- "A tiny little Snicker, for Christ Sakes. For your niece."

- "I'll think about it."

Joey watched The Nightmare Before Christmas, trying to wrap her head around the fact she was going to have a baby. Sure, she always thought about it, but not at twenty-six. Yes, she wanted to have a baby with Matthew, but not under those circumstances.

- "I guess I'll have to make the best of it"- she sighed, rubbing her belly sweetly- "You are gonna have Halloween every day, I swear"- Joey whispered- "I'm gonna make sure you've got everything I never had. Your dad is gonna go nuts when we tell him... I still don't know what kind of nuts, but I guess we'll have to figure it out."

She made a pause, thinking about Matthew telling her he wanted to fill their house with babies. Maybe he was going to be excited after all. Maybe.

- "Your uncle Mikey is gonna spoil you, that I am sure about"- the knock on the door took Joey from her conversation with her belly. Mikey stood at the other side, smiling and holding a fun size Snicker bag.

- "I'm going to give you one every day. That's gonna be your only candy, ok?"

- "Thank you!!"- Joey walked in, jumping in excitement, making her friend chuckle. He was slightly mad at her, but still, he couldn't be mean to her- "How was work?"

- "Boring, I think I fell asleep during most of the interviews"- the girl chuckled and sat indian style on her bed- "I can see you are watching kids movies already"- the bassist raised an eyebrow staring at the screen.

- "I happen to love this movie... I'm a Halloween kind of girl."

- "Yeah, I know"- Mikey stood in front of Joey, chewing a Snicker.

- "Aren't you going to sit down and watch this masterpiece with me?"

- "I need to talk to you about something first."

- "Shoot"- but Way didn't know how to start that conversation. He thought about it the whole morning, but he still had no clue. So instead, he mumbled some unintelligible words- "What is it?"

- "I just..."

- "Is it because I've been wearing a lot of your hoodies? I'm sorry, the ones I brought are Matthew's, and I don't feel like wearing his clothes."

- "No Bug, it's not that."

- "'Cos I'm wearing Frank's too... which is pretty weird 'cos he is my size..."

- "No, Joey. It's not about that."

- "Then why are you so serious?"

- "'Cos you never told me you kissed my brother"- and Joey's face fell.

- "Did he tell you?"

- "Clearly... what the fuck?"

- "I don't know!!"

- "Why didn't you tell me?!"

- "'Cos if I never told anyone, I could pretend it never happened! And I wish that never happened!"

- "What the fuck was that about?!"

- "I don't know, I felt like the shit, he kissed me, I didn't stop him right away..."

- "Do you like him?"

- "No!"

- "Do you love him?"- Mikey was serious about his questions- "'Cos he is sure he loves you."

- "I don't love him, Mikey. We both know there is only one shitty person I love"- Joey laid back on the bed and covered her face with her hands.

- "Do you think I'm proud? I should have never done that! and I definitely shouldn't have let him get to the point he got"- Mikey frowned.

- "What?"

- "So he didn't tell you he wanted to fuck?"- the girl simply replied- "When I was drunk... we kissed, at a certain point we made out, but I wasn't very conscious of what he was doing... I just... in my intoxication... I thought he was Matthew."

- "What the fuck?"- Way wide opened his eyes and turned to his friend in shock.

- "Yeah, it was sick..."- she whispered, embarrassed.

- "Joey, that's abuse!"

- "What? no!"- the girl gasped.

- "Joey, my brother tried to abuse you"- Mikey yelled- "You were drunk!"

- "Yeah, but..."

- "You were nearly unconscious, and he tried to make out with you?"

- "No! No! I mean, a part of me knew what I was doing. I just... didn't know who I was doing it with."

Honestly, that didn't sound like an excellent explanation of the facts. Joey was in denial of how bad things had gotten with Gerard.

- "Bug, that's not right! He knew exactly what he was doing, and he shouldn't have done that to you if you were drunk!"- Mikey's words resonated in Joey's head.

- "He didn't try to rape me. I mean, he stopped when I realized he wasn't Matthew... and honestly, I'm not trying to defend him, but I was pretty disgusted by my actions right away!"

Joey stood up and looked at her friend right in the eyes. At that moment, she decided the best she could do was take the pushy scene from the story, when Gerard didn't want to let her go. It was better to forget that moment and pretended it never really happened.

- "The first time he kissed me, I thought making out with your brother was the perfect revenge against Matthew, mostly 'cos he was always saying Gerard had a thing for me"- the girl sighed and pouted at her friend- "Who was ever going to think he was right?"- Mikey wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of your head- "I just didn't know that one kiss made him think we could do it again when I was drunk."

- "Please don't do stupid shit like this again"- she nodded

- "Your shirt stinks"- she joked, making her best to stop the serious conversation 'cos she couldn't stand arguing with Mikey, and less talking about that subject.

- "Sorry, I ran out of clean clothing 'cos I've got a friend who keeps wearing everything I own"- he chuckled, and Joey smiled, letting him go slowly to go back to the bag of candies- "I said just one a day."

- "Can I get an extra one today? Please?"

- "No, you are grounded, 'cos you did something incredibly stupid"- they stared at each other in silence for a few seconds, until Mikey smiled- "Fine, but only today"- she girl smiled and landed a kiss on Mikey's cheek.

- "Thank you. Besides, Ray is the only one who can ground me around here."

- "Right"- Joey chewed her Snicker and laid back in bed, tapping the spot next to her- "There's still one more thing."

- "Oh shit! I don't want to have more serious conversations. We've had enough of those already."

- "He claims to love you"- Mikey just said, and Joey closed her eyes, wincing.

- "I know! And I find it as stupid as false! We've barely talked this whole time! He has no idea who I am, what I like, or anything! He is just talking with his cock!"

- "And what are you gonna do about it?"

- "Stay as far from him as possible"- Mikey laid next to Joey and held her hand- "Do you think the others suspect anything?"

- "Frank, for sure. He has been arguing about it for days now."

- "Shit!"

- "But hey, hey, don't worry"- Mikey tapped on Joey's hand- "It's gonna be ok."

- "Bróðir"- the girl made a pause and never unglued her eyes from the screen- "I'm gonna have to leave."

- "No!"- his voice sounded serious and certain- "You don't have to!"

- "I'm nothing but trouble! This tour is more a soap opera than a job at this point! Breaking up with Matthew and having all of you taking care of me, now I'm pregnant, your brother claims to love me." Joey turned to Mikey and cut him a shy smile. - "Face it, if you had hired a male drummer, you would have had a quiet tour. Nothing to worry about, not all this fucking drama to deal with."

- "If we had hired anyone else, I would have had a miserable tour"- Mikey simply replied and messed with Joey's hair as the two of them returned to watch the movie- "So stop saying nonsenses."

- "I'm so sorry..."

- "Knock it off"

- "And I don't want you to be mad at your brother."

- "I'm not mad"- Joey raised an eyebrow and looked at Mikey- "Fine, I hate him right now, 'cos he has been acting like a fucking crazy jerk, and honestly, he nearly abused you, Joey!"

- "Don't hate him... let's pretend none of that weird shit ever happened, which is what I'm planning to do."

- "Fine"

- "And don't get all weird."

- "Fine"- Mikey sounded a little annoyed.

- "And don't make a fuzz if I stay away from him."

- "I'll support you, I'll even stay away from him myself."

- "Don't. He is fucked up. Maybe if he opened up with you, it's because he needs company or someone to help him overcome this... madness."

Mikey turned to Joey again and sighed. He disagreed with her, and he was planning to stay away from his brother and keep him away from Joey as well.

- "And how was your talk with Matthew?"- Joey's heart raced just by hearing his name- "The red cheeks are giving you away."

- "It was... ok, I guess."

- "And now you are texting"- she sighed and huffed.

- "I'm gonna have a baby with him, Mikey. It's hard."

- "And you love him."

- "Not the point... and that's all I'm saying about that subject."

- "Ok"- Mikey wrapped an arm around Joey's neck, and she rested her head on him- "Let's watch the movie before we have to leave for the arena."

Mikey wasn't mad at Joey. He was scared she might consider leaving the band. He loved having her there. She was honestly his anxiety shield, and he couldn't deal with that tour without her. Not at the moment. He was alone. He felt alone, and she was the one with him always. Ray had Christa, Frank had Jamia, Gerard had Lynz (and it was now obvious: he also had a stalking problem).

Mikey had Joey. At least when they were on the road. Hiding in their friendship and brotherhood was the only way he could handle loneliness. Or to avoid it.

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n0irrrr · 4 years

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e m p t y / 14

shingeki no kyojin | series [various x male!amnesiac!reader] summary: [Name], an amnesiac boy awakes in a unknown place – trying to remember anything makes him have horrible headaches. Who is he? And why he can’t remember his own face? masterlist

chapter fourteen

seek

“Nothing is going to work, XXXXXXX.”

”Don’t speak so negatively— this kid is our future.”

”Our future? XXXXXX, we have no future! Yeah, he controls it, then what? Can we return from the death? Of course fucking not!”

”I believe in him. He will be one of the people who free us all— you heard him, didn’t you? This kid is strong.”

”Is that what you call strong? The brat can barely handle a headache, and that’s where he cries like a goddamn baby. This kid is not going to be a hero, nor a savior. This world is condemned to fail like in the beginning.”

”He wouldn’t suffer much if you weren’t so intrusive onto him,” they sigh, “the XXXX may have kill us all, but our destiny made us stay together— we have to protect this child.”

“How the fuck can we protect if we’re not there, and this kid doesn’t bear a damn headache?”

”He won’t try to remember— he knows the pain well.”

”That’s right, XXXXXXX. W——, stop being like this— [Name] will get a concussion or get ill like before. The child has had enough already.”

”As if I care. It’s not as if I have faith in the first place,” he sighs, “we should have stayed hidden... the X?#! was a son of a bitch for doing what he did. Why the fuck did we returned?”

”We can’t let the past repeat again— this world doesn’t deserve that.”

”Humanity deserves it.”

━━━━━━✧♛✧━━━━━━

"—me]! Enough sleep!"

"Hmn...?" He opens his eyes slowly, recognizing Jean with an annoyed expression— [name] noticed he was already ready for training, "how tiring..."

"If you don't wake up now you will in three hours— so get dressed already,” he helps [Name] sit, getting his messy hair out of his face and talking to him to not fall asleep again. Marco was near to learn about how to wake up [Name] properly, as he was his partner. He didn't say it out loud, but [Name]'s sleepy and messy hair was a pretty cute and funny look.

The thought made him blush, looking at the side in shyness, "What I'm thinking?!" He smiled sheepishly, rubbing the side of his neck.

Successfully making [Name] getting off the bed, he stretches like a cat. Looks like Jean has already placed his uniform on the bed to not make it more difficult to him. "Thank you, Jean."

His friend sighs, gritting his teeth. Irritated by such careless attitude, Jean ordered him, "just dress already, okay?"

"Aaaah? Jean looks like a mom! HAHAHA!" Connie jokes, laughing with everyone else. This makes Jean's blush worse, not liking the spotlight one a bit.

This is what I was trying to avoid!!! DAMMIT!

"S-SHUT UP!"

“You are talking too loudly,“ [name] rubbed his eye, frowning. They were so loud in the mornings— he couldn’t wait for their day off to sleep as much as he wanted.

“That will be necessary to make you stay awake, don’t you think?" Marco chuckled sweetly, helping [name] to button his shirt. “[name] does look as cute as a kitten, but he is strong, or even stronger than Annie... For some reason, I feel... safe,” he thinks with a tint of scarlet on his face, finishing his actions. It was true— [Name] wasn’t an idiot, much less clueless. Marco believed his friend stood his ground with whoever, and if [name] noticed the true dark intentions of others, they would pay a big prize for it. He had to be just waken up from that slumber in which the freckled boy wouldn't leave him alone.

“That's annoying,” he yawns, "I can't wait to sleep in the woods again..."

“The woods? Wouldn't that be dangerous? You don't know how many wolves can be there! Or even bears!!"

"Bears are cute," [name] blinked, "I wouldn't mind."

"Don't say that!!! They are dangerous!"

"But cute," he chuckled, "do you think Reiner would win a fight with a bear? Bertolt is huge, but I think Reiner would win."

Marco blinked a few times as he processed the sudden question. Laughing, the freckled boy imagined such scene. "What was that question for?"

"Dunno— just thought about it," he stands up, seeing Marco finished buttoning his shirt. "What are we doing today?"

"Oh—! We are doing a training in the woods! I think it's a survival thing— so maybe we would be there for two days," he smiled, "isn't that exciting?"

"The woods?" [name] grinned.

"You won't find a bear, [name]!"

"If I'm lucky maybe I would be paired with Reiner..." he mutters, tapping his lower lip with his finger.

The freckled boy sighed, amused by such interesting person. [Name] could be incredible when he wanted— he sure said silly things, but when the situation was needed he was responsible and took things in a serious manner. Analyzing him was interesting and funny— it was as if Marco was watching a deer from a hide place, observing and taking notes. [Name] was sure different, but Marco couldn't pin point what was the thing that made him who he was— his unusual eyes? the mark he had on his shoulder? the stuff he said? his motivations? He couldn't describe it, but it was pleasant to spent time with him.

"—co. Marcooooo..." [name]'s voice filled his ears. He didn't even notice him losing himself in his thoughts, "what were you thinking about? Are you sleepy?"

Marco gently laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry— I was just thinking," he looks at [name], "we should go for breakfast— there's still time, so let's go!"

[name] blinked, tilting his head. It wasn't often Marco got lost in his thoughts, "...okay," looking at Jean, who was still fighting with Connie, [name] spoke out of him, "we are going to breakfast, Jeanbo!" and with that, [name] took Marco's hand to leave with a grin on his face. He didn't want to stay and hear Jean's yells at him— he could hear Connie's laughter as he repeated the nickname. Jean is going to be angry at me... Oh well.

Marco just laughed, amused. He really never wanted training days to end.

━━━━━━✧♛✧━━━━━━

As breakfast finished, Marco left first to get ready with Jean— the both of them were eager for today's training. [Name] took his time to finish, leaving the barrack to find the others. Unfortunately, some other thing made him remember how unlucky he could be.

He bumped into someone else, making the poor victim fall on the ground.

"I'm sorry— I didn't see you," [Name] spoke with worry, offering his hand to the other to take— it was a petite blonde girl. The boy blinked, tilting his head as he saw the resemblance of a pretty doll. Hmn... I know her. What's her name...?

But when their hands touched, an electrifying sensation passed trough arm to his eyes, making them freeze in the spot. It seemed the girl felt it too, because her friend quickly hushed [Name]'s hand from her, making them wake up from the strange daze.

P̷̟͑r̸̨̢̛͙͕͈̲̻͓͔͍̣̮͋̍͒̃̈́͜x̴̧̘̯̹̦͙̭̜͉͔̙͍̫͆͑̉#̴̨̢͉̲̥̞̤̣̦͕̹̙͌̾̅̏́͂͋̅ë̶̙̭͔̞̥͌̇̇̄͝x̷̮̺͍̗͍͖̟͙͛͜ͅx̶͙̭͗̂͛̌͝ ̵̢͚͍̙̪̜̙̜̣̭̮̦̠̅̑̅͋̈͌̈́̄ͅẍ̶̧̨̢̮͉̻̮͍̳͔͚̺̖̝̮́̂̄̋͌͆̏̆!̶̪͉̞̲͍͙̟̮͈̫̗͖̔̀̕#̴̱̠̄̑̂̈̍̈́́ ̷̨̡̢̧̥̜̼̪̐͌̂͊͊̐͌͘K̶̞̤͚̗̳̈́̏͗̚͠į̶̍̐̽͐̐ņ̶̝͕̮̺͓̄̋̊͜͝g̶͈̗̹̑͋͠ ̴̢̱̹̳̹̠̱̖̪͆̓̀̎̓̕f̵̳̤̮̒̇͂x̸̧̗̦͓̱̖͙̞̩̤̤̠̦̜͆̃̅͗̑̂̕x̶̧̤̖͈̥̰͎͇̻̙̰͇͇̠̉̂́̓̍͊͂͘͜͝x̵͈̲͖͕̺̘͎̤̠̳̪̋͌̃͑̉̈͌̃̍̚͝ ̵̛̪̝͔̖̖͓̠͖̖͕͒̎̏̐̽̀M̴̘͕̲̥̯̍̈́͗̒̃̑x̷̟̳̄̔#̴͔̣̺̭̯̪̒̄͌͋̔̃͐̓̍̃̊̽̚͝%̴̧̧̣͔̻͎̳̉̎͐̃̍͐͊̈̽͗̉͘̕͠͝x̸̛̦̬̦͇͙̲̙̻̙̜̊̈́͛̋͆̂̓͜͠ỵ̸̡̣̖̟͈͂͋̏̈́̑̓̈́̚!̷̢͉̰̯̳̺̪̟̪͓̰͚̖͖́͠

"What the hell are you two doing? You look like weirdos," she narrows his eyes to both of them, curious about such strange interaction, "is this a secret code to make me not know what you are talking about, Christa?"

"Of course not! We just..." She sees [Name], who has the same unnerved aura she has. What was that? “We had an electric shock!” she chuckles awkwardly, trying to light the mood.

It was strange, yet familiar. He had felt the same thing when he met Reiner back in the refugee— he had small electric shocks with other people before, but these two interactions felt much different. Nevertheless, [Name] doesn't think much of it and looks at the two girls who are staring at him intently. Blinking, the boy scratches his neck a little bit, feeling unnerved by the stare of the brunette girl. It looked like she was observing— it was an intense stare. [name] wanted to leave.

"Sorry, again," he speaks in a gentle tone, dusting the girl's clothes for her. Not liking him touching her one a bit, the tall girl slapped his hands off of her, surprising the boy by such rejection and force.

"Hey! Hands off of my Christa!" She spoke loudly, tightly hugging the blonde girl.

[name] frowns. ”Yours...?”

"Ymir! He's just helping out, let him be!" she spoke with a pout, turning to [Name], "don't mind her, she's always this dumb,"

"You break my nonexistent heart, my love,"

Ymir... What... a peculiar name was that... Ymir, Ymir, Ymir... Ymir?

W̸̗̼̖̯̲̠͙̐ė̴̪̜̥̔͐̂̔̂̅͒̒͑̍͘͠͠ ̸̣̥͒͌̀͌͋f̵̣̫̥̼̠̟̪̏͒͆̃̏͒̈́̋͒͠͠ì̵̠̥̺̹̦̈́̅̊̽͒̐͝ͅġ̷̢̲̥̤̱̦̳͎̭͉͓̠̖͛̒͛̄͝ĥ̵̺̻͓̻̼̳̟̫͆̃̂͐̿̊̔͗̉͌̅̂̚͝t̵̢̞͚̥͎̭̗͍̖̂̿̆̉̆͛̕̚̚ ̴͉̣͕͍͇̎̑̋̓̽͆̋̾̓̈́͠f̴̺͎̦̖͕̪̳̹̅̒̒͌͆̆͗͑̊̂͋̽͒ǫ̶̲̰̣̣̤̩̈́͜͜͝ŗ̸̳̀ ̷̨̢͚̮̯͎̫̹̞͓͕̝̠̬̻̀̿̏̊ǭ̸̨̼͚͈͕̯̲̭̄͜͝ͅu̷̢͉̟̮̝̖͎̗̙͌̓̕͜͠ͅṟ̸̳̥̟̹̦̲̺͖̲̺͂̐͛͒̂̈̅̓̕͝ ̷̢̡͈̯̗͙̄̓̄̂̈́͘͜͝ͅğ̵͎͔̝͇̥̰̭͕̘o̷̡̳͌̍̓̓̅̍̆̆ḑ̶̹̬̯̿̆̐d̸̼̞̩̝̪̱͔̥̪̩̈ȩ̴̢̝̖̺̫̦̠̪̫̅̈́̅̀́͋͋͜͠͝s̶̲̜͕̓͌̕͝͝͠s̶̛̟̰͉͍͇̰̰̖͎̹̣̮̗̩͋̀̓͆͂̈̕ ̸̢̭̯̳̜̣̯͓̘̣͛̈̀̈́̑Ỹ̶͚͉̀͜m̶̡͖̜̤̻͉̟͂̉͐̈́̎̄̎̚͘ǐ̷͇͉̯̣̉̔r̷̢̧̛͇̬͖̫̝̤̞̦̲̥̱̃͊̒̎͝—̸̗̲̞̺͇̥̬̝̼̩̻̓͌̈̓̓̎͝͠͠ͅ ̵̮͖͈͕̹̈́O̴̟̜̳̰̹͕̕͘ų̴̛̣̘̘͇͆͆͌̐̌͗̃͊̏̔͋͠ȑ̷̡̳̺ ̷̻̈́̏̔̂͒͗͗͋̓̕c̵͚̮̠͍̹̠̲͙̞̱̬̞͜͝r̵̨͈̗̰̞̳̤̰̦͇͎̥̱̮̦͒̅̄͑̕e̷̡͖̲͓̺̳̺̪͚̼͋̌̈́̃͒̏͒͒̐̀͑̎̆͜a̵̛̤̙͚̹̞͇̩̤͚̞ţ̸̛͔̤͖̺̖͇̀̀̇̐͊͑͒̎̎͒̕͜͝o̷̢͓̤̠̓̈̈͆̽̆̓͊͑͘r̸̢̼̈̎̐̒̋̊.̴͇͔̻͕̖̤̥͙̩̟͈̹͙̾ͅ

There was an inexplicable feeling— he didn't want to leave them. No— not them, but her. The feeling told him to stand by the blonde’s side and protect her for any threat, even if they were in a safe place. [Name] didn’t understand— what threat would he protect her for? Why would he? Frowning, [Name] decided to just ignore these thoughts, not pleased by another weird thing happening to him once more.

”See you around, I guess?” He tilted his head, feeling the urge to leave already. He didn’t like this feeling— something inside his chest revolted, as if it wanted to be freed. Something whispered over his ear, a bodiless voice with no gender nor soul— something and not someone.

”Oh, okay! See you around!” The petite girl gave him a beautiful smile, and if [Name] could guess, it looked like one of his mother’s. The brunette frowned at him, narrowing her eyes and staring over her nose. Seemed she was observing whatever he was trying to hide— [Name] just wanted to flee, and that’s exactly what he did.

Already leaving, he clenched his shirt, frowning. His unnerving feeling didn’t go away— his chest felt like burning, the tip of his fingers shaking; almost feeling as if needles pinch trough his skin. What was that feeling? If [name] could describe it, he didn't feel himself. Or to be more precise, his thoughts and mind didn't feel his'. It was strange— he felt as if those thoughts had been forcibly inserted into his brain by someone else.

"I don't like this. It's scary," he muttered to himself, moving the tips of his fingers in nervousness. "Creepy, creepy, creepy..."

Ț̵̛̰̥͔̞̪̱̈̔͋̽̈͑̈́͑͝h̸̡̛̤͚͉̞̠̦̠̞̹̥̞̽́͊͒͆̒͒͛̈̈́̚͜͝ḯ̴̥̗͋̋͋̉̃̓̆̃͜ͅs̴̨̳͚̮̯̰̻͈̥̤͈̐̿̃͌̐͘ ̶̻͎͗͌̒̌̎͋͑̊̋͒͠g̶̦̙͇͕̜̤͚̥̥̍̒̾̔̑͗̕͜e̶̫̰̿͋̈́̍̊̒̋͜t̵̨͇͕̯͖̬̮̞̙͔̬̖͖̺̉͒͒̈̑͌̉ͅs̵͖̞̭͇̑̾̃̍̈́͛̚ ̸̢̨̪͓̠̘̻̗̠̙͐͐͆͒̊͌̏͑̇́͋̇̓e̶̡̘͔͙͕̪̳̟̯͙͙̺̦̎̑̋̓͌͋͜v̷̰̫̼͎̝̾̂̊e̷̢̛̟͍̠̗͈̱̺̒̄͒̿͂͗̆͌̇̾͒̌̚͝ͅͅń̵̜̤͓͔̲̽͊̎̈̋̇͒̔ ̶͓̋͌̇͒̉̃͗̈́́͋͠͠͝b̸̛̺͇͖̙̟̹͎̫͔̮͎͉̒ề̶͈̮̱̞̚t̵̮̫͕͒̎̐̄̆̒͋̄̍͜ţ̵̧̢̫̭͓̼͕̲̜̼̪́̔̈́͆͒͐̓͑ę̸̢̯̮̓̇̅ͅr̸̥̰̭͐̏̓̊̂̅̑̐̏̀͒̈́̾͘͠ͅ,̸̡͕̲̱͍̭̩̲͍̯̙̈͂̏̂͠͝ ̵̢̤̳̬̺͙̙̳̣͚̺̟̘̂̆͗͋̇͑̽͌͛̏̈́͂͠ͅ—̵̖̱̪̳̦̅̄̔͠ͅ.̸̟̈́͂̄̓̑̋̃͘̚̚̚

━━━━━━✧♛✧━━━━━━

"Today's training is simple— as simple for maggots like you. First, you and your team will have to go to point A to B to collect a flag, then C to A again. Teams are already been done, and if I hear you want to switch places I will throw you to the ground and make run laps until you pass out," the taller man watches, "the teams will be maximum of three— a backpack will be given to each member with different utilities. The test should be done in two days or three days, depending on how incapable can you be. Someone has to keep a record of any circumstances going on during your training. Now, we will say the teams, so pay attention— SPRINGER! STOP LOOKING LIKE AN IDIOT AND LISTEN!"

”Jean Kirstein, Eren Jaeger, Thomas Wagner,”

”Fucking hell!” [Name] could hear Jean cursing.

[Name] hides his grin. ”Fucking.”

”Stop!”

”Mikasa Ackerman, Annie Leonhardt, Mina Carolina,”

"Daz —, Marco Bodt, Sasha Blouse,"

”Bertholdt Hoover, Reiner Braun, [Name] Knight,”

[Name] blinked, looking for Bertholdt’s face in the crowd. When he spotted him, he waved enthusiastically with sparks on his eyes. Bertholdt gulped, returning the wave weakly with a nervous smile. The taller boy could notice [Name] seemed... a little eager when they paired up in training. He had deduced it was his height, since [Name] always liked to ask about how he got so tall. It was a weird topic of conversation, but that's how he was— an unpredictable and a bit strange guy. Nevertheless, the tall boy was lucky enough to have Reiner by his side this time.

As the teams were together, the three teammates took their backpacks as they conversed. Bertholdt took a look at the map, analyzing the directions they had to take.

”Looks like we are together this time,” Reiner speaks to him with a grin, “heard you got second place the other time, tho.”

”I think we were lucky,” [name] scratches his neck, “I don’t know how will I go with directions...”

The three of them walk trough the woods, Reiner sparing a glance at the other teams taking other directions. ”We are going to be just fine— leave it to me and we’ll be safe and sound.”

[name] tilts his head, staring at Reiner with fake innocence. ”And if we encounter a bear? Maybe wolves? If it rains?”

”Fortunately, it will rain before any of the others appear.”

”What if... the titans appear? What then?”

Reiner and Bertholdt quickly share a look, before turning to [Name]. The boy’s eyes stare at nothingness for a moment, awkward silence prevailing. Neither of the two say anything— it sounded... almost cryptic, if he was hiding the real meaning of that question. Bertholdt felt a shiver trough his whole spine, creeped out by the tone [name] used. It was quite frightening... how someone so... like him, used such tone at them.

“That’s too dark,” [Name] yawns, breaking the horrible tension as they walked again, “hope we can see a bear. They are cute.”

”You... can say pretty scary things, uh, [Name]?” Reiner laughs nervously, sharing a look with Bertholdt. That was... strange.

”Sometimes we have to imagine every possible outcome, don’t you think? We have to be prepared,” playing with his hair lazily, the boy looks at the sky, “mmmh... the sky... it sounds different.”

”Different...?”

[Name] hums, “raining’s coming, possibly.”

”How can you tell?” Reiner stared at the sky, looking as bright as ever. There was no difference from other days— it had stayed sunny.

[name] shrugs. “Dunno— it’s just sounds different. As if I was hearing... steam.”

”You really are something else,” Reiner laughs, amused by such ability. “How much can you hear anyways? Are you nosy, perhaps?”

”A lot, actually. And no, if I’m not paying attention I don’t understand what others are saying— if the topic takes my attention, then I would know many secrets others have,” [name] answered indifferently, taking a closer look at the map as he rested his head on Bertolt's arm. The taller boy blushed by the proximity, a bit intimidated and uncomfortable by the statement.

The last sentence did sent a shiver down their spine— [Name] could have spoken with such a laid back and careless tone, but the two couldn’t help but feel something personal against those words. Sharing a quick look, Reiner chuckled to lighten his own mood and relax his tensed shoulders.

”Are you willing to blackmail? A such cutie and small kitten like you?”

“Well, this small kitten made you scream in combat training,” [Name] stuck out his tongue, narrowing his eyes in an offended way. “Blackmailing is bad anyways. I’ve read in novels that’s just the lowest of the low, and it’s such a pitiful tactic to use. So I will never use it. Roderick taught me that," [name] proudly spoke— as if he was telling them the entire truth of the world.

Reiner blinks, “you know, I’ve hearing you say a lot of things you learn on books— isn’t that a bit... unusual to say at our age?”

”Why? Books have a lot of answers I can learn. They speak the truth,” he puffs his chest in pride, “also they never disappoint.”

Reiner stares at him with narrowed eyes, debating what to ask. Should he go deeper or touch the surface...? He was kinda curious of [name]'s mind— he had heard him speak like this before, and his unusual behavior made him conclude something. Nah, let’s go in. “What’s sex?”

Bertolt chokes on his own saliva, calling Reiner’s name in a flustered tone. "R—Reiner! W—What?!"

As the blond expected, [name] said the same exact explanation he spoke to Jean back then. What he noticed was how sure [name] looked, not even embarrassed or unsure about the answer. Bertolt widened his eyes, blinking in amazement.

”...for the walls,” Reiner can’t help but laugh at such childish answer— where the hell was he in class? How could [Name] in this age say something like that? It amused him; even Bertolt averted his blushy face to hide his smile by such answer. It was a funny situation, really.

“Why are you laughing?” Jean didn’t laugh— well, his reaction wasn’t better. [Name] felt personally attacked by such reaction— was he really wrong? And for them laugh at him like that!

”I can’t believe this,” he passed a hand trough his face, “[Name], I’m not going to teach you something like that in a deep explanation. But I will say what you imagine what sex is goes much deeper than that,” even if he could be a horny teenager, no way in hell he could take more advantage than simple kisses [Name] gave him. Even when he looked so cute the other day— if [name] didn't even know what he was doing, then there was no fun in doing it. So that's why you don't fluster! Got you.

”Why won’t you?” [name] frowned, crossing his arms in irritation.

“Grab a book about the human’s anatomy and then we’ll do the adult talking,” Reiner smirked, walking ahead of him without saying another word.

As the amnesiac concluded he wasn't going to cooperate, he turned at Bertolt, who blushed like crazy because of the topic. ”Can you tell me why I’m wrong, Bertolt?” [Name] blinked repeatedly, trying his charms to get out an answer out of him.

“I—I will just say you are not entirely wrong, but not right either,” covering his mouth to stop a chuckle, the brunette couldn’t imagine [Name] being this clueless. Sometimes looking so tough, nobody could imagine such ideas from him— hell, he looked terrifying when fighting Reiner, so this situation was hilarious to him.

[Name] pouted, switching his attention to the path ahead. Was he that wrong? But he couldn’t just believe «Amelie’s Crown» lied with what it was... He had put his faith in Amelie! She couldn’t just betray his trust like that! How could you, Amelie?!

”I won’t believe Amelie lied to me...” he spoke to himself, lost in his own world filled with flower fields and frogs. His depressing aura was noticed clearly, confusing his two companions.

”Uh... you okay?”

[Name] huffed, irritated, "anyways," he turned his head to his companions, "who will take record of our training?"

"Ah! Good memory, [name]!" Reiner clapped his hands, "what do you think Bertolt? I can have the map and you can take record? Whatever you want, man,"

Bertolt timidly nodded, handing him the map. It was a nice change— the brunette didn't feel suitable for commanding directions, so silently taking record of what was going on was ok with him. [name] could just help Reiner in the leadership, but since his behavior went annoyed they weren't that sure anymore.

Nevertheless, a long day awaited them.

━━━━━━✧♛✧━━━━━━

[Name] nose crinkles, looking at the sky. He stares at the grey clouds, “I already smell the rain. We should find somewhere to stay before we get wet.”

”Can find another way to get you—“

”Don’t finish!!”

Eventually the teenagers found a cave deep in the woods, decently spaced to let them lay down. It was pretty wet— they couldn't find the cave before raining, so they were a bit soaked. At least they found a refugee; being under the rain was dangerous, even more with the chilly air. Reiner had [name]'s headaches in mind— breathing in cold was something bad for the head, and he had noticed [name] like rain, but acknowledged it was dangerous to his health. Both Reiner and Bertholtd could see annoying the headaches got at the point of being pretty mortal when doing training.

Placing his backpacks on the floor, the soldiers took out what was enough to do their beds and eat their packed food. Thankfully they wore their green caps this time, just because [name] warned them about the weather. Their clothes were not that soaked, so [name] being with them was pure luck.

”Sasha almost eat my stuff, man. One cannot know with that girl,” Reiner said, taking a bite of his bread. The gluttony girl went for everybody before training— they all knew food was precious this time, but Reiner had remembered the girl stated she was a hunter, so stealing other people's food was... a bit too much.

[Name] took his boots and jacket off, sighing in relief as the tight and wet fabric was off of him. He laid them on the floor, making sure they didn't get stained or ruined. He starts to unbutton his shirt, shaking a little bit because of the cold.

Reiner almost chokes on his food as he sees [name]'s exhibitionism, but coughs casually to stay unbothered. ”Hey, hey— you won’t strip, would you? I mean, I have no complains but Bertolt here will have a heart attack.”

”I’m just going to take this off. They are tight and that irritates me,” he answers, but stops midway to stare at the tall brunette, “didn't think it was death needed," Bertolt blushed, averting his eyes from [name]'s body, noticing the small drops of water falling on his flesh.

"What is going on with me?!"

”Anyways, I’ve been pretty curious when we fought. You seemed to know what you were doing— who taught you?” Reiner stared at him in interest, remembering his movements back then. He had beat his ass with no much effort; even Annie lost against him. And that, was something amazing and incredible— a stance he never saw before in a fight.

Nobody, he wanted to say. But deep down he knew someone have taught him everything— or at least he could say that from his short memories. “...Someone.” He opted to say, neither a lie nor a truth. Someone had done it, but he didn’t know who. He didn't know when, where— he didn't know anything about how he could fight like that.

”And that someone is?”

[Name] shrugs, taking a bite of his bread. ”Dunno.”

Reiner raised an eyebrow, confused. ”Dunno? You don’t remember or you don’t wanna say?”

Swallowing his food, [name] answered unbothered. ”I don’t remember.”

Reiner frowned, trying to recollect something— he heard something about his situation back then. ”Ah, I remember. Connie had said you hurt your head, right?”

Was everyone this nosy? “Yeah. I don’t know many things about me.”

”Not even where you are from?” Reiner asked, getting more interest by the individual in front of him.

Where am I from...? “...I’m from Shiganshina. I was raised there,” that was his home, thanks to Beatrice.

The blond raised an eyebrow, perhaps not believing the answer. ”All your childhood?”

”...Part of it.”

He wasn’t going to try and remember. The pain was very well known, making him stay away from even trying or think about it. He was tired of the same fate, and if nothing good came out of it, then it wasn’t something important to do.

”What do you mean part of it?”

Would he be able to explain? Beatrice had told him to not say the truth about his whereabouts, since it could bring problems. But could he trust in Reiner and Bertolt? The only person he had tell the truth was Jean, and he didn’t say much about it... Well, it wasn’t as if the two companions were some infiltrates of the Military Police, could they? Perhaps answering something small wasn’t dangerous— maybe... they were friends? They were... nice, after all.

“I...” he blinked, “I was from somewhere else.”

The blond hums, interested about the answer. ”Somewhere where?”

He began to feel irritated. "Aren't you noisy?" Reiner seemed too curious about it— or maybe it was just to pass the time. Either way, [name] didn’t like talking about his blurry past. It was a reminder of things that were never returning, and being the center of attention wasn't something he enjoyed either.

The blond laughs awkwardly, rubbing his neck. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just that... you seem mysterious, and that cute face you wear doesn’t help my curiosity from stopping.”

[Name] stays in silence for some time. Now that he thought about it, if he ignored Reiner’s forced flirty behavior, he radiated a... strong, brotherly aura. He had read about human’s auras— some radiated confidence, some others terror, vileness. [name] wondered what kind of aura he had, but the reminder of his situation build that doubtfulness of himself, making him thought about that so called aura being nonexistent for him. “...My past... is foggy.”

”Wait, so you do have memory loss?”

”I guess.”

"How much you can’t remember, then?"

The amnesiac tilts his head, scratching the tip of his fingers gently. "The first thing I remember is about me waking up in a forest, then my mom taking care of me."

That made some sense, at least. "Then... you were raised in Shiganshina but not born there...?" he blinks, "and there’s no recollection of anything about your past... damn, that’s... a little upsetting, but you seem unbothered by it."

"It’s not that I’m not... But trying only hurts me, and the doctor who helped me said if I over-did it, my mind could collapse and I would have serious injuries, so my mom made me stop doing that," he closes his eyes, "well, it isn’t as if I’m missing something— the people who have been around me... have helped me a lot. And if I can’t remember my past, the present is more important."

Reiner smiles. "I’m... glad you are handling it well. You seem to be filled with courage— no one needs to give you the 'you can do it' talk, uh?"

[Name] gently chuckles, amused. That wasn’t true— if it weren’t for Beatrice’s help, he wouldn’t be here right now. Even now, the need of someone helping him to stand on his feet was important. Being truly alone was something scary, and dealing with heavy stuff alone was something [name] wasn’t sure of. "Sometimes. Receiving help... is important."

Reiner hums. Bertolt looks like he wants to say something, and himself decides to spit it out before regretting it. "Why... why do you want to join the Survey Corps? Even with being face to face with them... you want to fight them..."

The amnesiac scratches his neck this time. "That’s because..." don’t. You think giving your trust isn't idiotic, you idiot? But before he could answer, he frowns. His answer isn’t all genuine— the true meaning of joining is hidden, because of someone else shutting his mouth. "I just want to bring my home back. Being trapped and cornered... is unfair."

[Name] can notice how Bertolt shifts uncomfortably with his usual nervous expression. The boy narrows his eyes, and the taller boy can notice being under such scary stare. The unknown voice is right, but [name] doesn’t want to listen. What could they do anyways? They were comrades, and for years they had to gain each other trust. Why would he suspect...? It was... ridiculous— uncalled for.

They were friends.

V̶͚͚͖͔͚̂̏̉͋̌̑͘ņ̶̱̻̱̝̠̞̣͙̱̿̆̑̓̒͜͠ĕ̴͍͔̺̲̲̝̲̲̣͙͋͐͝ǎ̸̢̡͎̻̖̲̫̜̩͆̕h̶̋̎̽͗̊͐̓͛͂̋͆͜t̷̜̪̳͍̰̞͕̐̑̓̀̽͒͜͝ͅc̷̹̱̤̠̩̭͎͍̹͂̽̄̆̀͊̀̈́̑̋̈́̄́͜͝ ̷̢̣̰̲̦͛̈̇̐̊̾̊̏̎́͠͠ỹ̷̢̧̡͍̣̘̼̪̫͔͖͎̗̙̓̈́͛̾͒͜͝n̴͇̲̪̤͇̼͙͜͜͠͠ą̵̘̳̦̘̙̫̣̘͇̬̤̞͉͜ ̷̡͚̰͎͕̜̤̻̮̼͊̿̀͗͐̿͘͠s̶̡͓̺̜̬̼̪͕͗̈͂̐̉͐̏̏́̀͒â̸̡̛͔̩̥͉̬̺̏̎̈́̊̐͂͌̈̇͌͒͂ͅy̶̡̗͎̱͓̦̫͙͕̺̍̿͒̒̅̕ḣ̵̯̀ḙ̸̢̛̺̝̝̎̆̄͛̾̋͝͝͝ͅh̵̜̩̤͕̖͕̺̔̎͂͌̈́k̵̙̙̻̺̮͇͉̞̋̊͝m̶̧̛̩̞̬̮̰͖̰̞̃̔̐́͋̄̍͂̋̂͒̍̈͜a̷̬̓̐̉̊̇̄̒͂̑͛c̵͙̭̰̞̻̗̯͇̦͒̈́̄̈́͆͜c̴̳̖͂̾͌.̷̤̔̒̈́̇̓͗̎̅̈́̅̅̓͘V̶͚͚͖͔͚̂̏̉͋̌̑͘ņ̶̱̻̱̝̠̞̣͙̱̿̆̑̓̒͜͠ĕ̴͍͔̺̲̲̝̲̲̣͙͋͐͝ǎ̸̢̡͎̻̖̲̫̜̩͆̕h̶̋̎̽͗̊͐̓͛͂̋͆͜t̷̜̪̳͍̰̞͕̐̑̓̀̽͒͜͝ͅc̷̹̱̤̠̩̭͎͍̹͂̽̄̆̀͊̀̈́̑̋̈́̄́͜͝ ̷̢̣̰̲̦͛̈̇̐̊̾̊̏̎́͠͠ỹ̷̢̧̡͍̣̘̼̪̫͔͖͎̗̙̓̈́͛̾͒͜͝n̴͇̲̪̤͇̼͙͜͜͠͠ą̵̘̳̦̘̙̫̣̘͇̬̤̞͉͜ ̷̡͚̰͎͕̜̤̻̮̼͊̿̀͗͐̿͘͠s̶̡͓̺̜̬̼̪͕͗̈͂̐̉͐̏̏́̀͒â̸̡̛͔̩̥͉̬̺̏̎̈́̊̐͂͌̈̇͌͒͂ͅy̶̡̗͎̱͓̦̫͙͕̺̍̿͒̒̅̕ḣ̵̯̀ḙ̸̢̛̺̝̝̎̆̄͛̾̋͝͝͝ͅh̵̜̩̤͕̖͕̺̔̎͂͌̈́k̵̙̙̻̺̮͇͉̞̋̊͝m̶̧̛̩̞̬̮̰͖̰̞̃̔̐́͋̄̍͂̋̂͒̍̈͜a̷̬̓̐̉̊̇̄̒͂̑͛c̵͙̭̰̞̻̗̯͇̦͒̈́̄̈́͆͜c̴̳̖͂̾͌.̷̤̔̒̈́̇̓͗̎̅̈́̅̅̓͘

”U—Uhm, [Name]...?” Bertolt timidly asks, gulping. [name]'s stare was lost— as if he was lost in the wonders of his mind, finally giving in into his wonderland. The taller wondered if the question was wrong to ask— after all, titans were a sensitive subject for some comrades.

[Name] just blinks, staring at Bertolt. He finally hums, laying on the ground and turning his back on them. “I’m sleepy. Good night.”

”[Name]! But we haven’t finished talking!!” Reiner whines, but there’s no response. It seems [name] fell asleep as soon as his head rested on the ground, or maybe he refused to answer more of the interrogation, “unbelievable. How can you fall asleep so easily? I wanted to ask more...”

After falling in silence, the two remaining look at each other without saying a word. Their connection and bond is already deeply formed, as a look exchange communicate whatever they want to say.

[Name] is someone much different than them— he may appear just like them, but those eyes... those memories he has locked deep inside his wonderland... those actions, defined who he was going to be in the future. What was he going to face along with them— a future no one wanted, but was necessary to happen. Actions nobody wanted, but were destined by fate to get done.

The rain fills the silence, drifting them to sleep.

T̴͉̤̬̝̃̄̅͐͜͜h̷̡̳̓̓̽e̷̛̛̹͖̜͈͕̾ỹ̸̧̌̔̍͑̅̇̆ ̶̧͍̙̣͚͚̟̙͇͠x̷̡̛͎̓̔̄͑̕͝ͅx̸̧̪̪͉̜̅̊̅̍́̕͜x̷͓̻̬̺̄͆̈́̐ ̸̨͖̝̗͆̾͛̌j̶̢̨̛͈̫͔̞̭͉͐̎̎͂̉̐̈́͋!̴̭̯̐͌#̵̝̫͉͇̰̦͈̝̇ͅ$̶̧̘̠̥̑̍̂̈͝ ̴̫̖̻̦͍͌͘̕c̴̡̬̯̻̦͚̠̯͗̈́̑̽̒́h̶̞͂͐̎̈́̍͠i̴̱͎͈̱̋l̴̯̽̎̉̒̈d̵̻̈́̾̑͛͆͠ŗ̸͔̪̖͒̿͋̊́̇̈́̇ḛ̵̝̪̄͊̐̽̅͊̕n̴̤̰͍̜͓̫͌͂̕ͅ!̷̡͔̍́̽̿͂̈́͌

x̴̡̓̋́̑̔͒̀͘͝x̷̨̹̫̳̗̙͈̠͚̿̏x̶͙̓̚͝͝͠ ̷̬͚͖̒͒̀ṭ̸̨̲̳̤͌͠!̴̻̲̯̠̘̪̩̈́͑̋͘͝͝0̸̧͉̤̞͊̽̈̓́͆̃̌́2̴̛̗͔̰̃̇̎̾̓ ̴̡̨̘̻̭̞̯͕̀̍̈͗͗͌̚͝w̷̫͎̯̫̌́́̃̽̉͒̾͌è̴̘̤͈̫̻͎̄̃ ̴̙̣̙̭̫̄̌̍̈́#̷̡̙̼̈́͆̈́ͅ!̴̡̬̣̜̜͚͐͗̋̍̂0̵̛̯̰̹̰̯̄̏̉̀͝e̴̲̙͒͑́͝ ̵̡̻̘̣̝̙͎̇͐̍́͑͆̓͑͋͜a̴̫͉͉̟̼̮̙̿͐̊ ̸̛̛͙̹̜̳̣͔̝̞͐̽̂͛̽͘͜ć̸̹͇͔̼̜̮̥̤h̴̛̤̄̂ǫ̶̨̼̗̮̔͑̓̉̚ï̷̧̪̹͂c̶̗͆̓͌͑ḛ̴͗̒̐̽͘̕ͅ?̴̥͇̳̘̗̩̲̇̒!̶̲̣̯̰̙̈́̇̋̈́͛

━━━━━━✧♛✧━━━━━━

“There should be a flag around,” Reiner spoke, looking at both sides. They were already awake and ready for the day— it would be a long one, so they had to be prepared. Waking [name] was the hardest thing in the morning— Bertolt was easy to handle, thankfully. Nevertheless, [name] looked like he was in a deep slumber— an unconscious state that nobody knew how long would he be in if let alone. One of these days it could be a nice experiment to see how much he could sleep.

“You seem well prepared,” [Name] stated, noticing how independent and useful Reiner could be by himself. He seemed capable of doing anything— alone or with someone. It looked like he already went into some training before enlisting.

“What does that mean?” the blond raised an eyebrow, amused by the observation. He knew [name] was someone blunt and spoke his mind, so hearing his thoughts about him interested him.

”I can see you can do anything— are you going to the Military Police?”

”I’m that obvious?” Reiner chuckles.

”Not really. But it looks like you don’t have a hard time with anything, and many others want to get into the top ten,” he tilts his head, "I think everyone want to, so I guessed it..."

”Well, if it’s with you of course I will have a hard time,”

”And with Annie,” Bertolt interjected, holding his laugh.

"And, with Annie," Reiner roll his eyes, "that's my goal for now— just want to be... safe, working with the King. That's all. Hope you don't get bothered like Eren does."

"I don't judge," [name] speaks, "you can do whatever you want— Eren... is an idiot for telling others they are cowards for joining the other branches. Why would you fight something you don't want to? It's your life, so you are the one deciding. Not some ball of anger with spiky hair yelling like a crazy idiot..."

"Damn, that was something," the blond laughs, "ball of anger? haven't heard that before."

"But he's my friend, even when he's wrong sometimes," he looks at the sky, "have to make him don't forget where he is..."

The blond stares at him. The last sentence almost made him laugh— who guided who? He couldn't deny the strange friendship these two had; at first, it seemed as if Eren despised him by the amount of glares he sent to him. Then, something had to happen, since he saw the two sleeping together one night. He didn't strike Eren as someone needy, but Reiner noticed certain actions and expression only appeared when being with [name]. It was as if those actions were only for the privilege of [name]; things as holding hands, stare at his sleeping form, not shouting as loudly as he did... staring at him as if he was the most precious thing in the world...

Reiner could understand Jean's jealously at Eren, since it was obvious how the horse-face acted around the amnesiac boy. If Reiner was honest, [name] was... someone interesting to be around, and knowing him more was something Reiner wanted to achieve. After all, making him flustered was one of his weird goals too— [name] never flustered, nor looked embarrassed. That, was something Reiner was going to change.

"Ah— I see the flag!" Bertolt interrupts, pointing at his left from behind his two companions. Both of them instantly turn their heads to confirm, and indeed, there was a red flag proudly standing in middle of the forest, intact.

"Good eye, Bert! Almost got away without it," Reiner begins to walk to the direction of the flag, "hope this is over with today! The rain did make me more tired, so—"

As Reiner talked, [name] deeply frowned. Just as that time, he heard something— heavy steps along with grunting. It obviously wasn't a person, so his conclusion was that it was a creature of the forest. Perhaps they went out of bounds here, stepping in a territory they didn't belong. It was far but it was coming closer— [name] stayed frozen as he stared at where he was hearing the thing, while Bertolt, far behind him, looked at him in confusion.

"Hmn...? [name]...?" Bertolt wondered, worried.

"Wait!"

[name] eyes widened— it sounded big. As fast and quietly as he could, he ran where Reiner was. “Get down!” He pushed Reiner down with him, both of them harshly falling on the ground. [Name] gritted his teeth as he felt Reiner’s body over him, and the blond shifted his position by placing his two arms at both sides of [Name]. Without [Name] knowing, the blond did have a tint of scarlet on his face. The amnesiac laid on his back, patting a little bit. Reiner averted looking at his exposed neck, trying to think about something else. There was an open area above, in the trees, letting the rays of the sun hit [name]'s body.

”So cute... adorable, even. Is this what a god looks like?”

Thankfully they were in the middle of the woods, where a lot of plants and bushes were a good hide place. [name] aimed to fall into bushes, a decent yet fast place to not get caught. “Don’t move or talk,” he whispered, covering Reiner's mouth with his hand.

This time both of them heard it— heavy steps approaching where the flag was. Time seemed to freeze as a deep grunt was heard, and it's cause came into view. At first glance it could be said it was a bear, but such... dark face and huge body said otherwise. It had black fur, and a red eye— his left eye was scarred, adding more terror into it's appearance. It's face was almost skeletal; long nails, broken horns? no tail... what the hell is that?

Reiner tried to get something out of his backpack— but the minimal movement made the creature alarmed.

The bear? stopped it’s tracks— it seemed it was smelling something. [name] took Reiner's arm tightly, not knowing what else to do. He hoped Bertolt was away from here— he couldn’t hear him anyway.

"We should do something against this bear— how can we get away?" [name] tried to whisper as lowly as he could, not even hearing himself.

“That ain’t a goddamn bear!” Reiner harshly whispered, scared to the bone.

Unfortunately for them, the bear had as excellent hearing as [name]. The creature turned at where they were, grunting lowly as it quickly approached the area.

Oh, FUCK!

”Damn— Run!” [Name] helped Reiner get up and started running. Whatever that thing was was fast and it was just on their toes— none of them dared to turn around to see it’s terrifying stare. The only way they knew that thing was behind was because of it’s grunt sounds— as if someone was breathing right over their ear.

”Any ideas?!” Reiner yelled, not daring to turn around.

”You think I have one?!” There was no plan— the only thing [Name] could think of was running as fast as he could. Good thing to not have their equipment this time around— it could have been a fast way to end this situation, but they had nothing on them that could help.

“[Name]! If that thing gets to us we are dead!”

”Really?! Is that obvious?!”

”There’s no time for you being sarcastic!”

”Then don’t state the obvious, Reiner!”

They knew running wasn’t going to work forever. Eventually tiredness will overcome them and then they will get in trouble. [Name] had no idea what to do; if they took at least one second to do something else then that thing would get to one of them and surely die by being eaten alive. That didn’t sound pretty at all.

There was no other way— someone had to be the bait.

Reiner gripped his hand, eyeing it cryptically. “Okay, [Name]— I need you to—“

”I will run with it,” [Name] tried to speak between breaks, “I’m faster than you; I will lost it somewhere far away.”

Reiner blinked, dumbfounded. Trying to process such absurd words, the blond’s eye twitched in irritation, desperation and fear: he couldn’t help but scream. ”What the hell are you saying?! You can’t lose this shit anywhere! Look how close it is, for god sake!” The plan sounded stupid and worthless— it didn't solve nothing at all. If only Reiner got alone, then maybe [name] wouldn't get hurt.

”You think I don’t see it?!” The [hair color] haired yelled irritated, taking his backpack and throwing it carelessly to the creature’s head, successfully angering the creature by hearing a grunt, or whatever it was sent to him. “We’ll find each other somehow! Look for Bertolt!”

And with a last look, [Name] changed directions as quick as he could. He ran trough the woods, ignoring Reiner’s yells calling for him in desperation. His mind was going overdrive— he didn’t have a clue on what to exactly do against the scary creature.

Until he didn’t pay attention and his foot step on the weak ground, losing his balance and falling on some cliff. He tried to get a grip on anything, but he only hurt his fingers in the process. Nothing could be done as he fell over a small hill, until some bushes helped his fall at least a little bit. [Name] looked up, meeting the red eye of the creature who stated at him chillingly— the boy couldn’t ignore the chills on his spine, but eventually they broke connection when the thing turned and left, leaving [Name] alone in the forest as if he was unworthy of being eaten by it.

Breathing erratically, [Name] rested his head on the bushes, closing his eyes. “What the... hell...” His whole body hurt— his right foot, his left side (maybe bruised ribs?), his throat burned and he was sure there were many cuts and scratches all around his body. “How... unlucky...”

Laying there, [Name] changed his position to stare at the sky. It was orange, signaling noontime. He didn’t know how much time he was running from the thing, but it felt a good three hours.

He got up, and then he froze as he understood the situation he was in.

There was no backpack; so no supplies.

No map.

No food nor water.

No nothing.

He felt a laugh resonating at the back of his head; making fun of his situation— a laugh sounding so far yet just over his ear, as if someone was just behind him.

He remembered Jean’s words when something didn’t go as planned, or when he was stuck in a shitty situation—

“I’m fucked.”

Y̴̢̦̫̞̦͔̅̾͋̄͗̊e̸͙̘̭̝̩̦̣͌̆̿̋̾͊̋͌̉͐̕̕͘ş̶̖͕̫̗͙̳͔̥̤̙͖̗̰̫̔͑̄̅̆͂̕̚͝ ̵̲̠̟̦͕̙̥̲̲̥̜̞͊͋̓͋̐̈̂̈̈́̑͋̈̕̕ỵ̶̖͈̱̝̯̳̞͈͍̼̯̟̆̐̄́̎̏ő̸̢̧̟̭͔̮̱͔͖̪̞̙̮̈́̾̚͜ȕ̷͎̤̱̱̬̻͛͂̇̈́̐̈́͝ͅ ̵̢̛̤̹͔̰͙̙͈̰̙̳͎̮̽̈̓͗̔̄̑͘a̴̢̪͍̫̫͔̹̫̱̹̩̓̃̒̊́͋̈͜ŗ̴̬̘̣̬̗̻̩͗̒̊̍͋͐͛̓̈͆̈́͘ͅë̸̛̛̙̥̤̥̑̓͗̊͐̆̂̋͝��̰͇̬̰.̵͖̰̲͍̲̱̠͙̭͈̒̂̋̋̆͌̓̕

♛

#shingeki no kyojin x male reader #eren jaeger x male reader #armin arlert x male reader #jean kirstein x male reader #reiner braun x male reader #bertolt hoover x male reader #male reader #male!reader #marco bodt x male reader #e m p t y

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burnedbyshoto · 5 years

Text

m a s t e r l i s t (n - z)

updated: 9/27/2020

▹ - sfw

▸ - nsfw

notes: this list is put in alphabetical order by last name and then from oldest to most recent fic. please do not judge any of the older pieces too harshly as they were pretty bad! as of january 2020, drabbles will no longer be added to masterlist.

this is the masterlist for characters with last names n - z

masterlist for characters with last names a - m

do not repost any of my fics without permission.

sero hanta

▸ pocky challenge — kinktober day 10 (scenario)

▸▹ alphabet hc’s — nsfw and sfw alphabet (hc)

▹ colors — you can see peoples colorful auras (scenario)

shigaraki tomura

▹ kitty cat — shigaraki is a cat hybrid with a rash (hc)

▸ ready player one — kinktober day 5 (scenario)

▸ ahegao face — his reaction to your ahegao face (drabble)

▸ power — you were known to bring powerful men to their knees (scenario)

shindou yo

▸ twice — kinktober day 30 (drabble)

shinsou hitoshi

▸ cat lingerie — shinsou catches you in cat shaped lingerie (hc)

▹ ignored — in which he doesn’t acknowledge you anymore (drabble)

▹ don’t do this — being a hero means making hard calls (drabble)

▹ blood — please don’t close your eyes (drabble)

▸ torture threesome — in which shinsou is your third with bakugou (drabble)

▹ soulmate shit — you two just can’t be seperated can you (drabble)

▸ fantasy — you’re hot and you flaunt it (drabble)

▹ heartbreak — shinsou’s hiding a secret from you (drabble)

▸ here, kitty, kitty — kinktober day 9 (scenario)

▸ trust — kinktober day 25 (scenario)

▸ dom!shinsou — what’s he into when he doms (hc)

▸ orgies — more todobakukiri now with shinsou action (hc)

▸ scarves — using a capturing weapon in bed is a thing (drabble)

▹ study dates — studying with shinsou is always a trip (drabble)

▹ distractions — you can never focus when you study with him (drabble)

▸ jealous — when men touch you, shinsou gets jealous (drabble)

▸ sensei — being a pro hero means having a will of steel, too bad for shinsou that will of steel has one major kryptonite: a schoolgirls skirt. (scenario)

takami keigo (hawks)

▸ situational — you two are stuck together and tension rises (drabble)

▹ phoenix — you have a quirk that gives you the hero name phoenix (hc)

▸ caught in the act — kinktober day 15 (scenario)

▸ heats — how takami is during his heats (drabble)

▸ his ahegao — you react to his ahegao face (hc)

▸ ahegao face — takami reacts to your ahegao face (hc)

▸ overstimulation — how he overstimulates you (hc)

▸▹ alphabet hc’s — nsfw and sfw alphabet (hc)

▸ booty — slap his ass (drabble)

▸ dorm room — in which takami sneaks into your dorm room (drabble)

▹ asexual — he finds out you’re asexual (hc)

▸▹ dating — hc’s for dating takami (hc)

▹ because I love you — he broke up with you to save you, but he still wants you (scenario)

▹ frosting mishaps — baking with takami is disastrous as always (scenario)

▹ do you trust me — will you take the birds hand or die? (drabble)

takeyama yu (mt. lady)

▸ lingerie dreams — kinktober day 21 (scenario)

todoroki enji (endeavor)

▸ seven — rich and powerful men can marry seven different women in a wild attempt to produce the perfect heir. todoroki enji is one of these powerful men, and you’re his seventh bride. (scenario)

todoroki touya dabi

▹ stronger than you — dabi is a dad now and his son is just like him (scenario)

▸ dominate him — you’re a lady in the sheets and a freak in the sheets (hc)

▸ werewolf lover — they’re horny and you’re asexual (hc)

▹ stay in bed — dabi doesn’t want to let you go in the morning (drabble)

▹ wedding date — youre desperate for a date, and dabi wants a kiss (drabble)

▸ louder — make dabi a subby bitch (hc)

▹ 2 am call — you need dabi at two in the morning (drabble)

▹ laughter — dabi’s laugh is not cute but thats okay (drabble)

▸ scream my name — dabi won’t stop until you’re screaming (drabble)

▸ add another — how many fingers will fit in you (drabble)

▸ blindfolds — with no sight you sit and wait (drabble)

▹ glass doors — you run into a glass door (drabble)

▸ no boundaries — dabi will fuck you anywhere no matter the mood (drabble)

▹ you missed — getting stuck in a closet is always weird (drabble)

▸ 4 times dabi wanted you; 1 time he got you — kinktober day 1 (scenario)

▸ piercings — what piercings does he have? (hc)

▸ ahegao face — dabi reacts to your ahegao face (hc)

▸ size — dabi with a size kink (hc)

▹ happy birthday — sometimes dabi just needs a hug (drabble)

todoroki natsuo

▹ todoroki-sensei — todoroki natsuo is an esteemed trauma surgeon, and you’re the volunteer that won’t leave his mind (scenario)

▸ study breaks — natsuo needs a break and you’ll give him one (drabble)

▸ mamihlapinatapai — mamihlapinatapai: the wordless yet meaningful look shared by two people who desire to initiate something, but are both reluctant to start. (scenario)

todoroki shouto

▹ strawberry milk and watermelon seeds — first piece on tumblr (scenario)

▹ childhood lover — going from childhood friends to lovers (hc)

▹ seven days late - part two— shouto leaves for seven days and has nothing to say for it (scenario)

▹ sleeping — how the two of you sleep together (hc)

▹ not ready — shouto reveals the horrors of his childhood (scenario)

▹ welcome home: the series — part one part two part three part four part five the adventures of your family with shouto and your baby, kaito. (scenarios)

▹ captured — in which youre captured by villains and chaos starts (hc)

▸ and they were roommates: the series — part one part two part three modern!au. there are many issues when getting a new roommate. you just never expected your issue would be fucking your hot roommate every chance you had (scenario)

▹ i love you? — shouto realizes he’s in love with you and needs help (hc)

▹ lip synch queen — you enjoy lip synching songs to shouto (hc)

▹ I think I’m pregnant — you believe you’re pregnant with your ex’s baby (hc)

▹ meeting the todorokis — shouto introduces you to his family finally (scenario)

▹ concerts and songs — shouto takes you on a date to a concert (scenario)

▹ staying home — you like to stay home and thats okay (scenario)

▸ I hate you - part two — shouto is a villain and you’re the one he’s after (scenario)

▹ gone for too long — long distance relationships suck sometimes (scenario)

▹ hollow — youre an assassian; shouto is your target (hc)

▸ dominate him — you’re a lady in the sheets and a freak in the sheets (hc)

▸ my girl — jealous lovers and work don’t mix (scenario) part two

▹ drinks — shouto is upset and you are on the receiving end (drabble)

▹ confessions — you’re dying and you have to confess (drabble)

▹ come back — shouto doesn’t want to leave the bed (drabble)

▸ fuckboy — in which shouto is a fuckboy and you’re his target (drabble)

▹ dumbass — you threaten shouto with a good time (drabble)

▹ you never came — shouto never shows up to a date (drabble)

▹ apologies — shouto apologizes for being mean (drabble)

▹ hold me — shouto’s quirks come in handy to keep warm or cold (drabble)

▹ what’s happening — shouto bangs his head really hard (drabble)

▸ broken hopes — makeup sex is bittersweet (drabble)

▸ dirty talk — you help shouto improve his dirty talk (drabble)

▸ spring showers — bodies slick with rain, lips dancing with passion (oneshot)

▹ sickness and affliction — shouto burns you (scenario) part two alt ending actual fluff ending

▹ believe in me — all you want is for shouto to believe in you the same way he believes in momo (scenario)

▸ body swap — you trade bodies with shouto, hormones ensue (drabble)

▸ shut up — shouto fucks you on the common room couch (drabble)

▹ tsundere — you’re a bit of a tsundere (hc)

▹ done — theres always bitterness in cheating (drabble)

▹ my heart — shouto is a fighter and youre the girl who cant watch him dance with death anymore (drabble)

▸ like ice — you’re as cold as ice and shouto has to warm you up ;) (scenario)

▹ cupcakes — you make cupcakes with shouto (hc)

▹ gone — youre gone and shouto is not okay (drabble)

▹ drinking — you get drunk with shouto (hc)

▹ phoenix — you have a quirk that gives you the hero name phoenix (hc)

▸ awaken — kinktober day 4 (scenario)

▹ faint — you wont let shouto die, not now (drabble)

▹ trust me — kissing a pretty girl is always a good distraction (drabble)

▸ orders — shouto orders you to touch yourself (drabble)

▹ ships — you make a cardboard ship with shouto (drabble)

▹ because of you — shouto gives a lovely speech about you (scenario)

▸ attraction — kinktober day 27 (scenario)

▸ sugar daddy — shouto as your sugar daddy (hc)

▹ of love and flowers — you’re in love with shouto, but is it a tragedy? (scenario)

▸ usagi and hito — kinktober day 31 (scenario)

▸ foursome — todobakukiri foursome (hc)

▸ sub — how he is as a sub (hc)

▸ ahegao face — how he reacts to your ahegao face (hc)

▸ orgies — more todobakukiri now with shinsou action (hc)

▹ happiness: the series — soulmates have the name of their other half inked on their wrists on the youngest eighteenth birthday, but why is yours rejecting you? happiness part one bravado part two amelioration part three

▸▹ alphabet hc’s — nsfw and sfw alphabet (hc)

▹ marshmallow kisses — roasting marshmallows with shouto (scenario)

▹ fools — shouto is in love with you, but no one wants to confess (scenario)

▸ bathtub memories — you masturbate to an old memory (scenario)

▸ under the mistletoe — the mistletoe tradition is known by all, and if used correctly it can end in a sweet moment. too bad shouto believes that people fuck under the mistletoe and not kiss under it.

▹ distractions — you can never focus when you study with him (drabble)

▹ tortillas — you use shouto to make tortillas (drabble)

▹ writers block — you have writers block and shouto comforts you (scenario)

▹ replacement — momo dies and you and shouto try healing together (scenario) renewed part two

▹ love letters — shouto writes a letter for every day the two of you are together (scenario)

▹ fifteen kisses — fourteen different kisses you give shouto; the one different kiss he gives you (scenario)

▹ exchange — shouto would do anything for you, even dying for you (drabble)

▸ desperate — shouto takes teasing to the extreme (drabble)

▹ too late — shoutos realization is too late (drabble)

▸ please leave — you wake up to see pro heroes shouto and ground zero naked in your bedroom (drabble)

▸ house sitting & concupcience — in which Endeavor asks Shouto for a favor, and Shouto decides to take his payment by fucking you on his bed.

▸ winner takes it all — shouto wins a contest where the grand prize is getting to have you sit on his face.

▹ memories — shouto loses his memories, and you can’t do anything but watch as your world falls apart.

▸ wall fucks — shouto fucks you against a wall in endeavors agency.

▸ seven minutes — shouto signs up to have anonymous sex; you’re the lucky bitch who gets him.

▹ a brush of luck — in a world where soulmates exist you can communicate yours with a brush of a pen. It just doesn’t help that you are a certified idiot with a skill in misplacing things.

▸ forehead fantasies — you can’t help but fantasize on your boyfriend’s forehead that always remains hidden.

▹ pay attention to me — you want shouto’s attention, but he’s a bit too occupied with trivial things.

▹ shallow or deep — “why would you want a guy with such a large and disgusting burn?” he whispered, his tone thoroughly rejected, broken. it was then that it hit you: did he think he wasn’t good enough for you?

▹ model-worthy — sleepy mornings in with shouto.

▸ deception — “don’t you see what he’s doing to you?! he’s hurt you way more than what’s acceptable in a sparring march! you’re bruised and hurting, and he sure as hell doesn’t seem to care that this is the state he’s left you in.” — or in which, hawks manipulates how you view your boyfriend, shouto.

▸ aphrodite — “aphrodite is just a stage name, but the persona is still you. you might be a total dork, but the person you think you present has always been apart of you.” — or, in which pro hero shouto falls in love with a dominatrix cam girl, only to find out that she’s quite a weirdo in real life.

▹ eternal love — a simple love story between a tattoo artist and a flower shop owner.

▸ taoreta — the world is in ruins, but there’s beauty in everything. shouto is reminded of that when he crosses paths with a survivor who kisses him at the first meeting.

▹ strawberry milk and strawberry milk (rewritten) — how to get through the worst summer heat: have a sweet drink, eat sweet fruit, and have someone with the sweetest kiss around.

▹ before you go — before you go, tell me this meant something to you.

▸ hole in the wall — in a party for the ages, Shouto comes across a room with holes in the wall that has him coming back for more.

togata mirio

▸ teasing — touching yourself means teasing mirio (drabble)

▹ dead — you died and now mirio can’t live (drabble)

▸ until the last one comes — kinktober day 7 (scenario)

▸ ahegao face — how he reacts to your ahegao face (hc)

▹ sunflower — mirio tries figuring out a nickname for you (oneshot)

▸ the big three — they want you (hc)

▹ asexual — he finds out you’re asexual (hc)

▸ itadakimasu — mirio always says one thing before eating, yes that includes you (drabble)

▸ doggy style — mirio fucks you good (hc)

▹ christmas morning — mirio gives you a wonderful christmas morning (scenario)

▸ unbreakable — mirios afraid to hurt you, but you want more (drabble)

▹ soulmates — soulmates don’t exist, but mirio thinks youre his (drabble)

toyomitsu taishiro (fatgum)

▸▹ alphabet hc’s — nsfw and sfw alphabet (hc)

▹ mornings after — taishiro always knows how to make mornings the best

uraraka ochako

▸▹ villain uraraka hc’s — nsfw and sfw alphabet (hc)

usagiyama rumi

▹ that final phone call — miruko is one tough rabbit, but eventually even the toughest of people need a helping hand. (scenario)

utsushimi camie

▹ home for the holidays — camie meets your family (scenario)

yagi toshinori (all might)

▹ years — youre sir’s sister who was in love with all might for years (drabble)

yamada hizashi

▹ back off — even aizawa is prone to jealousy (scenario)

▹ ice skating — you go on an ice skating date with hizashi (scenario)

▹ swimsuit tops — losing your bikini top is never a good memory (scenario)

▹ sweater — you lost you sweater, you wonders who has it (drabble)

▹ laughter — hizashi has never heard you laugh before (drabble)

▹ under the mistletoe — holidays are for lovers, and you’re married (scenario)

▸ sexy times — just some headcanons (hc)

yaoyorozu momo

▸ never have I ever — kinktober day 11 (scenario)

yoarashi inasa

▹ passion, passion, and more passion — childhood friends to lovers (hc)

▸ too hot — you play a game where you’re only allowed to kiss (drabble)

▹ laughter — inasa’s laughter is loud and contagious and you love it (drabble)

▸ sensitive — inasa exploits your sensitive nipples (drabble)

▹ pounce! — inasa jumps on you (drabble)

▹ stay warm — please don’t pass out, please don’t... (drabble)

▸ fantasy — you make his wildest dream come true (drabble)

▸ bday fun — you let inasa have fun on his birthday (drabble)

▸ high sex — high sex with inasa includes (hc)

#masterlist #burnedbyshoto masterlist

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