#read is like three weeks ago with the newest chapter

[alonetimelover]

Action! - tolerate it - 2020

Pairings: Harry Styles x Director!Reader

Summary: YN sees how much Harry is distancing himself from her and their relationship. She decides to confront him, not realising the cascade of events about to happen and the feelings she had buried within herself.

Warnings: angst! swearing, mention of unfaithfulness

Word count: ~3,0k

A/N: Another one based on a song, like the title says: tolerate it by Taylor Swift. Hope you enjoy it! x

requested by @abbeyroad069 I hope it meets your expectations 💗

part 2 - champagne problems

series masterlist let's talk about action!universe

20th of June was, like any day in California, warm and sultry.

Sun high above illuminating his face through the dimmed windows. Book that she recommended to him in his hands, flipping pages from time to time, annotating it. Scribbling in his notebook after having found a noteworthy quote. His hair falling into place like dominoes, the pink hair-slide having been forgotten from the gym the other day. Rolled up sleeves, showing his multiple tattoos and shorts, short enough to give her a peak of his Brazil one. 

She was sitting opposite him watching. Observing his head hanging low, reading the book she loved so much. His chest was rhythmically lifting with each of the deep and calm breath. His left hand, folding down the pages he’d already read. The right one fiddling with the pencil. 

She noticed everything he did and didn’t do. 

She sat and watched him. 

“I can feel your eyes on me, baby,” Harry spoke without sparing her a glance. “You’re staring.”

“I’m admiring.” Scrutinising. 

Harry closed the book and turned to her, “are you?”

“Yeah.”

“Not now, at least. Also that plant hasn’t changed since the day we bought it,” he noted, noticing her eyes watching the flower. 

He was wrong. Not for the first and probably last time. That plant was the fourth she brought to their shared house. The first one, that Harry was alluding to, was overwatered, because before it, YN hadn’t known much about plants and had thought they needed water like people, every day. But it was succulent. YN replaced it within two weeks. 

The second plant, a completely different one - a fuchsia, didn’t last longer. This one being unfortunately knocked over by a dog of YN’s friend, and chewed on, leaving just two flowers. Nothing she could’ve done with them, she searched it up. 

The third one lasted the longest - almost three months. She only needed to replace it, having learned she was allergic to ficus. After weeks of a runny nose, sneezing whenever in a living room and lacrimation, she went to a doctor, did allergic tests and wallowed over her proud achievement that a living plant was. However, she gave it to her best friend, knowing it would be in good hands. 

Harry didn’t notice any change. It couldn’t have been easy for him though. Today was the first day in five months that he decided to actually spend time with YN. During those months he was meeting up with his new costars (of a movie YN was a director of), his management (discussing newest album), his bandmates (talking over new tour dates). All of that after having begged YN for moving in with him in LA, due to worldwide quarantine. 

“You know it’s an orchid?” She asked after some time. 

“Sure.”

“And the one we bought together was a crassula.”

“You threw away our Farquad?” He asked, exaggerating the hurt.  

 “Three months - no, wait - almost four months ago. I overwatered it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s not even the funniest part,” YN started to sound sarcastic. “I then bought a totally different plant that Doger knocked over and ate. Then another one that I - how it turned out - am allergic to. This one is the fourth plant here. I bought it two weeks ago. Isn’t it hilarious?”

“You’re being sarcastic. And I don’t even know what for, YN.” Harry reached for his book, attempting to restart the chapter. 

YN was very much surprised by how quickly and drastically the person she loved could change. One talkative person who wanted to discuss the slightest and smallest problem with his partner was not here. One caring person, who was hurt whenever his loved one was, felt absent. One gentle man, who looked after his partner trying to be the best for her lost the title.

“You understand it’s not about plants?” 

“It sounds like it is,” he said dismissively, staring at the book. 

“But it isn’t. It’s about you, about us, Harry.” She emphasised the pronoun.  

“YN,” he sighed, closing the book once again. “You’re starting this pointless argument for the third time this month.”

Fifth, she thought. It was the fifth time she tried to talk it over with Harry. Perhaps, she felt, she was misreading everything. Perhaps, the neglect she felt wasn't real. She must have been exaggerating the situation. Nothing changed. He loved her as much as yesterday or two years ago. It was pointless after all.

She was waiting by the door just like she was just a kid. Waiting, having laid the table with a ‘fancy shit’ as Harry called the tableware that he’d got from his mother. It was their anniversary. YN wanted to celebrate it simply, a cosy dinner with his favourite dish, Harry’s best wine and Phil Collins playing in the background. Nothing over the top. Just them, solemnising their third year together. 

He was late. Two and half hours late. 

Was she mad? She should have been, but was hopeful. Always putting so much faith in him. 

“What are you doing still up, love?” He asked tiptoeing into the house, five hours later.

“Happy anniversary!” 

She smiled from one ear to the other, holding up the cake she had baked by herself that morning. Even though, deep down she was sad and disappointed, celebrating this milestone was more important. They’d forget about this tardiness tomorrow, only remembering what was worth it.

“Oh! Indeed, happy anniversary, babe.” His eyes not knowing where to look. He forgot.

She hated being called babe. 

“Did you have dinner?”

“Yeah, I’m full.” He patted his stomach, simultaneously taking off his black trainers. “We went to this new sushi restaurant I’d talked to you about. It was amazing! The chef was so nice, giving me a tip on how to chop the spring onions correctly.” Oh, how eager he was about it. 

“Exciting. So you won’t be eating any tacos I made?” She asked hopefully. 

“‘M sorry, YN. I’m so tired, I'm just gonna shower and head to bed. Tomorrow’s morning I’m meeting up with Olivia to talk over the few scenes we’ve got together,” Harry said, yawning and already going up the stairs. 

Harry’s and Olivia’s characters didn’t have any scenes where they would talk with each other. 

“It’s not an argument. I want to kindly and calmly talk with you. When was the last time we actually discussed our relationship?” 

“Is there anything to discuss? We’re fine.”

“Harry,” YN sat up straight, giving Harry a pointer that he’d better listen. “You don’t only discuss your relationship when something’s wrong. And,” she paused, pondering about the next question, “you really think we’re fine?”

“Yes!” He lifted up his voice, becoming edgy. “Day after day you’re insinuating something. Just say it fucking straight, whatever that is on your heart, lay it on me.” 

If she did as he had said, would it mean the end? The confrontation was the last thing she wanted. Especially when Harry already was wired. But at the same time, when would be a better moment?

“I don’t think we’re fine. We’re growing apart,” she admitted. 

“It’s your opinion.”

“Yes, it is! Thank you for noticing, Harry,” YN expressed sarcastically. “Don’t you see how much you’ve distanced yourself from this -” She pointed between them. “This relationship?”

“Distanced? I’m working, YN. I’m trying to write an album. I’m working on three films. I’m managing a relationship with you.”

“Managing?” Her voice smaller, the weight of his words landing on her.

“Of course, it’s the only fucking thing you’ve heard. Of course.” He scoffed, shaking his head.

Harry stood up from the armchair, throwing his book on an oaken coffee table. His hands brushing over his hair and then beard, he’d grown over the quarantine. 

“It’s not. You’re working, Harry. I understand that. I see you writing music and preparing for your roles. I’m here. Just like you wanted me to be. How you begged me to be.” She tried staying as calm as possible. “I am here and you’re not.”

“What do you want me to do, YN? Hmm? I can’t be at the two places at the same time. I can’t give you as much attention as you crave. I can’t.” He was throwing his hands up and down, talking with them as well. 

“Is it craving attention by just wishing your partner was there for you?”

“You think I’m not?”

“Stop asking stupid questions, Harry!” She broke her calmness, all her feelings finally having space to leave her body. “You’re not here. Not at home, not in this relationship.”

“I just said, I can’t give you all the attention you crave, “ he repeated. 

“Love?”

“What?”

“What about love? Can you give it to me?”

“Oh, now you’re sounding ridiculous. I’m done with this conversation, YN.”

He moved swiftly over the table and rushed towards the stairs. 

“I love you, Harry. Can you say it?”

He can’t, she said in her mind, observing how his shoulders tensed, halting his movements. Then, her eyes started getting teary. But she wasn’t going to cry in front of him. No. She’d wait and just like over the last two weeks, she’d wait for him to go to sleep, then she’d sit down in the downstairs bathroom and sob. Sob for minutes or hours. Shaking with all the emotions trapped inside, hurting every inch of her body.

She knew her love should have been celebrated. 

“If it’s all in my head just tell me now,” she whispered, knowing he could hear her. “Tell me I’ve got it wrong somehow. Tell me that for the last five months you haven’t lied about where you were going. Tell me that you really didn’t forget about our anniversary. Tell me that she’s not the one you’re going to every day. Tell me I’m wrong. I beg you,” she whimpered. 

Pathetic, she thought. 

He still hadn’t moved. Maybe he was preparing his apology, or a break up discourse, where YN’s thoughts. 

“YN,” Harry sighed, still not looking in her direction. 

“Tell me I’m wrong.” She pressed him. 

“I - I don’t know.”

“You don’t know if I’m wrong or you don’t know what to say?”

“I didn’t cheat on you.” His voice was low, like it wasn’t really his. 

Many would laugh but she had never thought about it. She trusted him too much to even consider it. From day one of their relationship to this day, she’d never believed any rumour, any post on social media, any article, any fan, any ‘friend’. She believed him, she believed his ‘I love you’s, his ‘I care about you’s, his ‘you’re the love of my life’, his ‘you’re the only one for me’. No doubt there. 

What she thought and worried about was him falling out of love.

And there were more and more signs it had already happened.

“I know. It never crossed my mind.”

Harry’s mood was changing constantly for the last 20 minutes. From very relaxed, to riled up, then annoyed and eventually scared. His mind was full of enigmas he couldn’t solve. Mixed emotions and feelings, messing with him. 

“Then what are you accusing me of?”

“Assuming I - we - are fine.”

“YN-”

“Harry. Be genuine. If not with me, then - then just with yourself.” The least she could do was make him realise it.

“I am. I - I am genuine. I -” he gulped. “I love you.” 

It was like a dagger stabbing her in the heart. The sentence, echoing in her brain, quizzical voices talking over each other, ragging on her. 

Where was that man who’d throw blankets over her barbed wire? She made him her temple, her mural, her sky. Temple, she went to ask for advice, direction, forgiveness and adoration. Mural, she appreciated all over and watched being appreciated by so many. Sky, she couldn’t imagine living without, looking up to it, thanking it for its presence. 

“I love you.” 

But this one was full of it, full of actual love. It could say everything just by the way she expressed it, all feelings inside it. No more to add, nothing to cut. Just three words. Three sincere words. 

“Please,” he begged, knowing what was awaiting him. “Can we go to sleep? We’ll talk about it tomorrow, I promise.”

Letting it slide would mean not talking about it until the moment she’d grow some confidence. She couldn’t do it. As much as it hurt her, what was coming, she needed to be strong. She needed to hear it. No matter the heartbreak. 

“You’ll break that promise. Promises about coming home on time, meeting me up for lunch, going with me to that new sushi restaurant, showing me your newest idea for a song. Promises you break, one after the other since February.” She stood up, walking up to him. “Promises about missing me-”

“Stop.”

“Promises about caring about me.”

“I said stop, YN.” His voice slowly gaining power. 

“Promises about loving me-”

“I said stop!” He shouted, making her flinch. “Stop it, YN! The way you feel doesn’t give you a reason to put it on me, making me feel like a monster, like the one responsible for everything.”

“But you promised all those things, not meeting them at the end.”

“So what?”

She begged her brain to play with her. He didn't just say it. 

“Harry, you lied so many times that I don’t know what’s true anymore. Last month, you talked about meeting Jeff for coffee and the next day there were photos of you with Olivia all over the internet. Few days ago you mentioned the trip with Chris and Gemma, but the same day the trip is going to be, are the days Gemma is spending at her parent’s farm and Chris is visiting our house. Today you said you loved me and - and -,” she couldn’t say it. 

This conversation felt like running up to the finish line of the run, you didn’t want to participate in. One that wouldn’t bring you fulfilment. One that would leave you sore all over, but mostly hurting your poor heart. One that the winner - you - would be an actual loser. 

He stood silently, looking down at his white socks. He couldn’t bring himself to look in her eyes. She made him aware of his feelings. Or the lack of them. This whole conversation not only angered or annoyed him but mostly made him think. Why did he lie so many times? Why couldn’t he stop? What was he thinking then and now? When did it all start? When did he lose it? Where was he, not realising he was hurting one person he promised not to lay a finger on? Why wasn't there any guilt? If so, why couldn’t he look into her eyes?

“When was the last time you asked anything about my life? Do you remember what show I’m working on? Do you remember the date we scheduled to fly to London? Do you remember anything?” She started listing everything that was bothering her.

“I told you about that new show,” she started answering for him. “Stranger Things. I wrote that one character, a guy who loves music, is an outcast. Character that is so close to my heart. One, I’m proudest of. Do you remember talking about it? Or rather me telling you about it?”

Silence. 

“What about that one conversation about going upstate to my cabin? We’re supposed to leave in three days. Or are you meeting up with Olivia to discuss scenes that you do not have together?” 

Perhaps she was jealous. And perhaps, deep down, she thought about the possibility. The infidelity. She was so stunned with the love he made her used to be, trust he provided, that the concept of him being unfaithful was buried within other problems. 

“I’ll pack some stuff and leave for a few days.” It was all he said, before moving upstairs, leaving her flabbergasted. 

Like in a trance, all feelings leaving her body, she walked to the couch and sat down. Thoughts were swirling in her mind, making her numb. She looked across the room, finding the photo of her and Harry from their first visit at Anne’s, laughing maniacally because Gemma had said something funny. It was the first time she met his family properly (in real life, not on FaceTime), seven months into the relationship. It was crazy how now she considered them her family too. Even more than her own.

Was it all going to collapse now? 

“Now, lovebirds, big smiles for the family album!” Anne shouted over Christmas music playing loudly. 

The warmth coming from the fireplace behind her, and the one provided by Harry, made her cheeks feel hot. Matching sweater she had bought for her and Harry, tickling her neck, big woollen socks she got from Gemma tucking her. They were right after the big dinner, carols singing and gifts exchanging. It all felt like Christmas portrayed in movies. 

“It’s an honour, you know,” Harry whispered. 

“What d’you mean?” She looked up at him. 

“Mum has a big album with only a few photos from each year ending up there. I think it’s the last vacant space for 2018, love.” Harry squeezed her closer to himself, cuddling her. “Now say cheese or gimme a kiss.”

“I’m not kissing you in front of your mum!” she protested with a teasing smile. 

“Don’t be a prude,” he joked. “One, little kiss?” 

“Nope.” She popped the ‘p’. 

“Don’t make me beg.” Harry pouted, stepping on the dangerous territory. His pointing finger holding her chin, making her look at him once again. 

He smirked, “you look even more beautiful today, my love.” Smirk turning into his winning smile. 

“You are unbelievable,” she shook her head, slightly puckering her lips. 

“Okay, that’s enough flirting!” Gemma yelled. “Mum snap a photo before you become grandma.”

They laughed in embarrassment but underneath feeling peaceful.

With a Gucci suitcase in hand, Harry appeared in a corner of her eye, almost swimming to the front door. 

“I’ll be back in a few days. I - I need to think about it all. I lo - I’ll see you then, YNN.” 

Just that. 

The door closed, soon being followed by the sound of the engine starting and slowly withering. 

She knew her love should’ve been celebrated. But he tolerated it.

And she did nothing.

She sat and watched him. 

[grae-98]

Treatment Chapter 2

Set between 1880-1890, You have been feeling and acting off. After visiting the doctor's he sends you off to stay in Pelican Town where you are set to receive treatment for your condition. Upon arrival you learn the doctor administering these treatments is better than you think.

Harvey/ unnamed afab!reader

2nd pov

3,072 words

trigger warnings: reader is diagnosed with hysteria, mentions of depression, cheating/ adultery, doctor/ patient relationship, mentions of infertility

smut tags: fingering, cunnilingus, grinding

notes: i do have this posted on ao3 if you'd prefer to read it there.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

You were certainly not allowed to think like this. Not allowed to feel like this. ‘You are married, you have a husband!’ you remind yourself after the doctor excuses himself for the evening. You find yourself pacing around your room in circles debating on whether you should admit your wrongdoings to your husband. You felt like a licentious[1] dollymop[2] waiting for the doctor come in and what?

Exasperated you toss yourself onto the mattress you were on just three hours prior. You hear a knock on the door, and you beckon them to enter. Offering you a tight smile its your newest lady.

“Ah, Haley please do come in.” You speak happily as you sit from the bed to meet her.

“Are you ready to start for bed?” She approaches the vanity set where your combs and brushes sit. You nod in the affirmative while sitting on the stool.

“Are you feeling well? I was told that dinner was quiet this evening. Normally you have a lot to speak about.”

“There is a lot on my mind this evening.” She doesn’t say anything to respond but focuses on brushing out the long hair. You look up to see yourself in the gas lamps light, studying your appearance. Haley is beautiful the jammiest bit of jam[3] truly. You study her as well.

“How come you are yet unhappy[4]? You must have come out some time ago now. You are beautiful to say it plainly.” Haley stood behind you pausing in her movements to look you in the eye from the mirror before resuming.

“I have received offers from several, however my sister finds it difficult to obtain any offers. She fears that she is too plain and will suffer to be a burden and a spinster.” She began to braid the locks that falls down your shoulders.

“So, you reject your own happiness for the sake of your sister?” Haley nods in agreement.

“How admirable of you. With the wit about you and the beauty to match you should be able to marry well. Don’t let your sister be in the way to your happiness of that is what you want.”

“Do you regret marrying your husband?” You stop rubbing the scented oils on your neck to turn around to face her.

“I can say that once I was happy. It seems that my husband has grown tired of me after only six years. We married when I was 10 and 9 years, he was 20 and 3 years. We began our courtship shortly after I was introduced; and he was horrifically romantic. It was exactly what I was hoping for, but after the third year of being unpregnant… All I can say is there were very rare attempts to conceive after then.” Eyes falling to your stomach placing a hand on the ‘barren womb’ with a hint of sadness.

“I should have been glad to be pregnant, if I could, but unfortunately I am unable to bare children.”

“I don’t see how that should factor how your husband could or couldn’t love you.”

“Sometimes that is the only way to gain your husbands love.”

The next morning when Haley brought you your breakfast you asked her to bring Robin a calling card for later this week. You decided yesterday that you’d spent far too long without her. Obeying your request, she takes the card that you’d written up shortly after she left last evening. Not much else was left to do aside from eat your breakfast alone in your bed. It was then you decided you will take a walk into town this afternoon.

The weather was wonderful for an afternoon stroll. Thankful that you were able to sneak out of the cottage without notice to wonder as you wished. The town was wonderful in several ways. The small buildings had a particular charm to make it feel welcoming. You feel far too overdressed for the functionality of this humble town. The layers in your dress look far too embossed compared to the other simpler dresses that surround you.

Looking to one of the first buildings upon entering the towns square. A blue cross signifies the building be a medical building. You open the door with a squeak and are greeted by a young nurse.

“Good day to you.” She greets you politely.

“Hello to you, is Doctor Harvey around?” You ask while looking directly at the girl.

“Yes, he is in the back. Ma’am, are you feeling well? You look particularly pale.”

“I assure you I am feeling alright I just wish to speak to the doctor for a moment that is all.” She nods to you as she gestures her arm signaling you to follow her. Trailing behind her as you walk down the narrow hallway. You find yourself in a small clinical office with a desk and a patient bed.

“Doctor Harvey must have taken a break upstairs in his apartment for a moment. Please wait here while I fetch him and say that you are here.” She speaks as you sit cautiously on the bed close to his desk.

“Gladly nurse…”

“Maru.”

“Thank you for your assistance.”

It doesn’t take long before Harvey walks through the entryway. Although you just saw him yesterday it feels like you’ve been apart for ages. The air falls from your breath as when he greets you warmly. You return his kindness with an equally pleasant greeting. Unsure how to proceed you grab his arms much like you did the day prior and close even more distance between you.

“You’ve come here. Why?” Harvey places a gentle timid hand to your waist. Your heart skips when he does so.

“I wanted to see your clinic you speak so highly of, and most importantly I wished to see you immensely.”

“Have you missed me by that much since our meeting only just yesterday?”

“I have thought of only you since the moment I woke it feels like.” He brings you a little closer still.

“What say you if I were to tell you that I have thought of just the same?”

“I would ask you why is it that you’ve only thought of yourself.” You smile brightly. He laughs heartily and with his whole chest, making your eyes sparkle as you look upon him.

“But in full truth I would say that I would be highly flattered that my precious doctor would think of me outside of his work.”

This is wrong a part of your mind beckons to you urging you to break the spell and see yourself out. The thought was expelled out of your mind when he placed his other hand between your cheek and your neck in a soft caress. You press your check into his palm in kind.

“It is too often that I think of you outside of our treatments. And after yesterday I find it difficult to look upon your face, in the throes of your pleasure I saw what I believe to be heaven on this Earth. And now you look at me as though all the stars in the night sky fell to this valley in the mountains to make home in your eyes. The moment you breathe you have stolen the air from my lungs and I will happily give you every breath I have to hear you speak a single word to me.”

Your bodies touch, albeit covered by layers of thick fabrics. Yet you still feel the hammer of your heart against your chest so violently that sounds in your ears, rings through your fingers and settles in your belly.

“Harvey. I-“

“I have given any want in this world away, but I refuse to let my want for you cease. I know that you are married, and I scolded myself each time I found your treatment enjoyable for me as well. It is far beyond me to be able to keep my heart inside my chest when I am near you for more than a moment.” He searches your face for any sign of negative response.

“Then do not keep it there.” He smiles. Leaning down he presses his lips to yours for the second time now. Fire lit in your belly. Your hands squeeze his shoulders as you felt the mildly chapped skin run across your smooth lips. Bringing both of his hands to your waist to slowly begin to snake around your middle.

This is the first time he’s held you. Properly held you in his arms and nothing has ever felt more right. Breaking apart to breath he places his forehead against your own. The metal rim of his glasses pressing to the bridge of your nose. Moving your head forward you reconnect with his lips in a more passionate way. It wasn’t long before you moan into his mouth. Separating once again you speak.

“Doctor, I think I may need to have you visit this evening for another treatment. I fear there is another symptom that I’m experiencing. It is unusual for my typical behavior, but I have become insatiably lustful.” His pupils blown wide as he nods in agreement.

“I believe the best course of action is for you receive two treatments weekly for your newest symptom. I am aware that it can become rather bothersome.”

“Yes, so much in fact there are times I find myself lost in thought thinking of possible encounters and when I come back to focus, I find myself in a state.”

There is a quick hard knock from the other side of the closed door and yet neither of you made any motion to move. Lost within each other’s closeness.

“Yes Maru?” He speaks to the door while still gazing upon you.

“Your appointment with the blacksmith, Doctor.”

“I will be out in a moment.” And with that he gives you one more deep kiss before straightening himself. Fixing his hair and moustache while you fiddle with your dress and your hair pins. Smoothing the dress in the front he opens the door for you to walk ahead of him. As you approach the exit to the clinic Harvey leans to whisper in your ear,

“Wear less, I will help you dress after.”

Coming back to the cottage just in time for tea you sit on the couch.

“My lady, where have you been all morning? The boys were looking for you frantically. “

“What have I said to you Haley?”

“Apologies Ma’am it just feels a little disrespectful to not call you ‘my lady’.”

“You may be forgiven this time. But if you must know I had got the morbs[5] so to speak and I wished to seek Doctor Harvey’s council. Speaking of which he will be here later to administer another treatment.”

“Is it alright for you to have as much as you have been getting?”

“I suppose so. It seems because of my state as of now he feels I am regressing in my recovery and has suggested that I have them twice a week.”

“Oh!” Haley blushes.

“I know what you think, but it doesn’t hurt I promise.”

“I didn’t think it hurt.” She smirks before walking away.

As the time for Harvey to arrive drew near you informed the staff that he is to be sent to your room. You will not be greeting him there as you were going to bathe beforehand. The two men exchanged a glance that was not missed by you, but you chose to ignore it all the same. It felt like a perfectly reasonable excuse for you not to greet him in the now familiar combination drawing/ parlor room.

Making your escape towards your room you began to undress yourself. A much more difficult task than previously anticipated. Your hair that was done so ornately earlier in the day was taken down for something simple. Still effective enough to keep your hair from falling into your face or to brush against your neck. Opting to exchange your chemise for a simple shift seemed more apt for the meeting of which you were to engage. Bare feet patting against the floor as you check the pocket watch for the third time in less than two minutes.

‘Any minute now he will be here. Should I be on the bed? Or should I greet him here? I am tremendously underdressed, but there is nothing I can do now.’ A soft tap sounds followed by the turn of the door handle.

“Darling?” He begins to enter through the partially open door.

“Harvey.” You breathe a sigh of relief when he locks the door behind him. He faces you to rake his eyes from your ankles to your neck. Feeling overexposed you shift nervously. He crosses the short distance with ease when he captures your lips. Pressing his mouth hard against yours you can feel the scratch of his moustache against your upper lip.

“I missed you.” You say into his mouth.

“And I you.” He wrapped his arms around your middle again to lead you to the bed. Kissing on the way there while taking backward steps. As soon as your legs touched the mattress, he pulls away from you. Laying in your usual spot he tisks you urging you up towards the pillows. Harvey removes his shoes and vest coat before making his way up the bed to lay his body against yours. You giggle feeling his body weight pressed against your own. You reach a hand up to smooth your hand through his hair. Harvey closes his eyes to appreciate the feeling of your affection.

“My own darling doctor.” You speak full of admiration as you lean up to kiss the man hovering above you. He hums happily against your mouth when his hands began to wander. Only one muslin layer separates the two of you from feeling his hands on your skin. The only other person to touch you like this had been your husband but you quickly try to shake that thought out. Harvey felt the shift in you and began to slide the shift up your legs.

He began to kiss your neck to travel down to your collarbone.

“I was told to kiss your chest my dear, and yet I find something in my way.” He speaks looking up to you as he pulls the shift higher. Exposing the softness of your belly. Gliding his had further up he stops below your breasts. The only thing shielding you’re entire being from his view is the cotton left on your breasts. You nod to him giving him your full permission and he acts quickly. He has you sit up enough for him to slip the rest of the under dress from your body. He stops when you lay down once more to look over you fully.

“Do you remember what I said earlier about you being a gift from the heavens?” You nod your head. “I lied to you. You are something more spectacular that could ever be created on earth or in heaven. Open for me I wish to taste you again.”

You oblige opening your legs as he moves back down the bed. Curling his left arm around your thigh he dives in once more. This time there is no hesitancy as he consumes you. You push his head down but he comes back up to throw off his glasses and dives headfirst back in. Moaning thank you upon mild curses when he dipped his fingers into you. Although you felt this only just yesterday it seems like your body is experiencing it for the first time as your legs began to shake around his head. This was by far the quickest completion you’ve had. Pushing his head against you further rocking your hips against his face.

“There should be no reason you are as good at that as you are.” You breathe deeply trying to steady yourself onto your elbows. He licks his lips as though he’s enjoying the remnants of a decadent dessert.

“If I told you all my secrets then how are you left to be surprised?” You hum in acknowledgement, but you find yourself distracted as he runs his hands over your nude skin.

“There are so many things I would care to do to you right in this moment, but I need to exercise some type of restraint.”

“Harvey, I would let you do nearly anything to me in this moment.”

“Temptress. Do not speak those words or I will make them come true.”

You reach your hand to his bulge giving it a soft squeeze as you say, “Will you let me try something? It’s something I’ve wished to do for quite a long time.” Harvey nods his head yes but you look for any sign of no across his face.

You easily remove his trousers and what is beneath them as well. His hardened anatomy lays heavily against his clothed stomach as you lay him against your pillows. You push the end of his shirt up slightly to sit halfway up his torso. Swinging your leg over him you sit nicely against his cock. Unclothed sex to unclothed sex you shift yourself forwards. Grinding against him you hear him moan beneath you. Placing your hands on his chest to offer better leverage to angle better to move only your hips. You look down to see the tip of him peek out every sift of your hips backwards. With every move you make the brush of your nipples against the slight hair of his chest.

“My darling, please take mercy on me.” He cries into the air. His hands finding purchase on your breasts stilling them in their swing.

 It was on another backstroke that the head of him caught against your hole. Simultaneously moaning in surprise you stop moving. Feeling the tip of him at your entrance, you have a decision to make.

Officially become an adulteress or be happy.

[1] Lacking restraint especially in sexual conduct.

[2] Way of saying a prostitute.

[3] A beautiful young woman.

[4] Unwed or not engaged

[5] A feeling of melancholy.

[makeste]

Loving the return of the BNHA reactions - any further updates since vol 36?

yes, actually! so there has been a change of plans! here's the deal:

so as you're probably aware, after all of my fuffering two weeks ago about whether or not to skip ahead to the newest chapters, I decided to roll with the majority of people who advised me to keep plugging away at the old chapters first.

HOWEVER, I'm sad to report I only made it up to chapter 370 before I was waylaid by unforeseen circumstances. said circumstances being that my almost four-year-long streak of being Covid-free finally came to an end last week. 😭 it was good while it lasted. but yeah, that kind of took me out for a solid chunk of days. thankfully I'm feeling better now!

then a couple of days ago, I received an ask from a kind individual who informed me that there were in fact a lot of things happening right now in the manga which are very pertinent to my interests, and which I probably would want to experience and enjoy here in the moment alongside my fellow fans!

so after some consideration I took their advice and skipped ahead to read chapters 404, 405, and 406. and having now done so, I can say with certainty that it was the right call for me and I do not regret it whatsoever! because holy shit, these chapters are life.

so, long story short, I technically still have 33 chapters to go (which I will be resuming this weekend). but also, there's going to be a full-blown chapter 406 recap going up in like an hour or so from now lol. that's just how the dice fell. blame it on the coronavirus sapping away all of my remaining willpower. and Horikoshi for writing three back-to-back wish fulfillment chapters seemingly especially for me. what a generous man.

[thatbanditqueen]

Basic Training Ch 3

A response to the prompt: "You're staring." Thanks to my harem cohort @vintageshanny @missmaywemeetagain @ellie-24 @from-memphis-with-love @be-my-ally @powerofelvis and @whositmcwhatsit

Summary: Bess heads to the dance the Morale, Welfare and Recreation Committee for the 37th armored tank division is throwing, and manages to avoid dancing with the most notorious soldier on post, who cannot seem to take his eyes off her.

Warnings: None! Wait, kissing. Swear words. This may be the slowest burn yet. Probably typos, I wrote about 1K words over the last three days and then the rest in a fever dream. So.... may not make sense. Also I am pretty sure the first phase of basic training would not have them in tanks yet, but....I am playing fast and loose with Army life in this one.

Word Count: 5. 3 K

This is my newest WIP, please like, comment, reblog and tag and let me know what you think. Thank you for reading.

You can catch up on the previous chapters here

Basic Training Chapter 3: Just Kiss Me

Saturday, April 5, 1958

7:30 p.m.

The Schwartz Residence, Killeen

Just as her shoe hit the bottom stair, Bess realized she had left her lipstick in her room and was turning back around to grab it when she saw Kay sitting in the living room, dressed in a pink cocktail dress. Her puffy crinoline skirt was gathered in a heap around her as she shifted in place, adjusting her pearl necklace.

“Um, where do you think you are going?”

Kay looked up, tucking her brown hair behind her ear as she eyed the tight, fitted sheath dress Bess was wearing. She smiled at how the white sequins and embroidered red flowers glowed iridescent in the dim light and whistled low.

“Who are you dressing up for? The guy who you snuck in last weekend?”

“What makes you think there’s a guy, Katherine, honestly. I don’t sneak men into our house.”

“Uh huh,  so you’re all gussied up in your favorite dress just for a bunch of enlisted soldiers?”

Kay grabbed her purse and followed her sister to the door.

“Why are you being weird Bess, I always come with you? You’ve been going to army dances since you were sixteen. I’m about to graduate, plus, I told Dickey I’d meet him there.”

Bess sighed, thinking of Kay’s latest boyfriend. She supposed that she should be happy because he seemed like a harmless nerd, and, according to the files she had pulled on him, was not married, inbred or bankrupt.

“I just - we - I didn’t invite you to this dance because it’s an enlisted platoon. I didn’t think you were coming.”

“Wow, you must really like who ever it is, if you don’t want me to see you with him. Too bad. Dori called earlier and told me to come. She’s been trying to reach you all day, by the way.”

Bess locked the door, and they got into her car.

“Can you believe her date?”

“Mmmhmmm.”

“Of course, then it all made sense why you guys would be messing around with an enlisted tank unit. How did Dori even get involved with their MWR Committee.”

Bess rolled up her skirt so she could comfortably drive, and shifted into reverse, arching her eye bow at her younger sister as she did.

“How do you think? She asked to be reassigned to it two weeks ago.”

“Man oh man, she really is lucky. I wonder if we’ll all get to dance with Elvis?”

“Look, Kay, they sent out a memo to everyone, do NOT make a spectacle over Private Presley. Just act like he’s any other solider”

“Of course Bessie bushka. I’m on my best behavior.”

Bess looked Kay in the eyes as they pulled through the base gate.

“I am just going because I told Dori I would, I don’t wanna stay too late. So maybe Dickey Rooney can drive you home if you wanna swing all night?”

“Yeah, sure, ja volt. You don’t have to be ein klafte, Elisabet.”

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

The tight cloth of her dress didn’t have much give, and Bess regretted her choice as she tried to keep up and hold on as she danced

“Look, this is tactical move that requires delicate maneuvers—”

“I’m not spiking the punch, Jim.”

Bess huffed and got into her rhythm as they kept up with the band’s rendition of “Tutti Fruity.”  If she let her self relax and swing into each step, it was almost like old times when she, Jim and Ben used to go out dancing in Austin or Killeen and she’d take turns dancing with her fiancee and his best friend all night. They had been the three musketeers. But that was last year, when she had a fiancee. And a different future peering back at her from her crystal ball.

The music brought her out of her silent reverie, and Bess looked to her where the band was performing on stage. The lead singer’s voice reverberated through the building, echoing up into the tin ceiling and back down again, making the room buzz with energy. There were six people in the all-Black Flapjacks: drums, guitar, bass, trumpet and then a male and female vocalist. The men wore matching silver dinner jackets and black bow ties, and the beautiful, Black woman had on a gorgeous silver dress with tulle flowers at the bust.

Bess took a deep breath, her attention shifted back to Jim, whose hands were always steady, but never needy. She was grateful he had agreed to come when she called last night and asked. A year ago they had spent almost all their free time together. Stalwart, an honorable prankster, Jim wasn’t shipping out to the Army Intelligence station in Heidelberg for another two months and Bess wondered if their friendship would end. If Ben’s new German wife would win him over and, like his friend before him, Jim would forget all about the last three years of shared adventures and promises of a lifelong friendship. Men mean it in the moment, Bess thought, I suppose women do to. Forever. What a meaningless word. How can we plan forever when we cannot know the future? The song ended and Jim escorted her off to the side. She looked for her sister, and found her swaying with her beau towards the back, hands clasped together between the lock-eyed look of first love.

“I forgot how good a dancer you are, Schwartz. And in that dress, whoowee! You’re a knock out tonight.”

“You can cut the flattery, Jameson, still not spiking the punch.”

“S’not flattery, how dare you insinuate that I would be disingenuous? You look good all dolled up, s'nice to see you this way. It’s almost like fun Bess is back, though a year ago she wudda helped me spike the punch.”

He took out his large, dark leather flask and handed it to her after taking a nip. Bess’ face scrunched up in distaste as the vodka burned down her throat, but she greedily held on and took another long drink.

“A year ago I didn’t work here, I was just hanging out with some of the reprobates from the German language division. Now it would be bad form for a Front Office secretary to spike the punch.”

“Look around, Bessie, this crowd needs to relax. They’re alllllll keyed up waiting for that Hound Dog.”

Jim was right, a heightened sense of anticipation pervaded the warehouse, even the strings of colorful paper lanterns seemed to sway with anxious excitement above them. Bess looked over at the big bowl of punch, next to the trays of deviled eggs, brisket sliders, the lime jello mold filled with seafood salad, pineapple upside down cake and more. She was sizing up the punch and checking her breath as they waited for the next song when she heard a wave of hushed murmurs ripple through the large room and turned to see Elvis, Dori and a few other soldiers in dress uniform enter the dance together. Bess’ eyes narrowed as Elvis’ looked at her.

Jim followed her gaze, then met Bess’ eyes.

“There he is, as handsome as he looks in the movies.”

Bess’ grimace could have cut through glass as she turned to her friend and elbowed him.

“Not you too?”

“What, art thou so high above us mere mortals that you don’t find Elvis Presley attractive, Schwartz? To gouache for a scholar like you?”

“It’s Private Presley now. And I’m not made of marble, Captain. Of course I recognize his attractive features. He just isn’t my type.”

She sniffed, and grabbed the flask from inside Jim’s uniform, the breath coming out of her nose forcefully as she drank a long draught.

“I’ve met him, actually, already. I was there.” Bess took another drink, tipping the flask back again and noticing that the liquid didn’t burn so much this time. “When he asked Dori out. I’m happy for her.”

Elvis and Dori began walking toward them, and Jim noticed how Bess’ stance changed as she crossed her arms and pursed her lips, suggesting that she what felt was the opposite of 'happy for Dori.'

“Well, I was at the press conference his first day here, at least four reporters asked if he has a girlfriend. Said he was playing the field so many times, sounded like a broken record.”

Bess straightened as she watched Elvis’ hand tighten around Dori’s waist and push under her bust while the blonde leaned into it and introduced Elvis to some of the eager MWR committee members who had stopped them.

“Yeah, that would be the alternate version of Hound Dog, it’s on the B side.”

Jim chuckled at Bess’ joke, but she didn’t notice, she was busy watching the Hound Dog himself, and caught Elvis glance over at her and give a little nod before his lips bent into a smirk. She realized she was frowning and plastered a big smile on her face. Jim watched this exchange with interest as Bess turned back when he spoke.

“Yeah, I see what you mean. Definitely not your type.”

Bess scowled and whispered for him to stop as Elvis, Dori and another soldier approached them.

“Why Captain Daniels, how nice to see ya over at this little ol’ dance for the 37th, are you Bess’ date ta night? Or sneaking in to try and meet you-know-who?”

Dori giggled and playfully tapped Elvis’ chest. In case, you know, they didn’t get whom she was referencing.

Jim nodded and shook his hand to stop Elvis and the other soldier from saluting him.

“Oh, neither, actually, I’m just here to make sure Schwartz doesn’t spike the punch.”

“Don’t believe a word the Captain here says. This is a great introduction, by the way. Captain Daniels, meet Private Presley, you know Doreen of course, and then, well, I cannot say we’re acquainted.”

The liquor had loosened Bess up and she giddily put out her hand to the other soldier, as Elvis fiddled with the blue dress uniform cap under his right arm and took charge of the conversation.

“This is Rexadus, I mean, uh, Private Mansfield, he’s in the 37th wit me, another Mephisss boy, we were inducted ta gather, actually." Now Elvis was turning his hat over and examining it, speaking with confidence, almost as if from a script he had rehearsed in his head. "He’s a solid, solid, guy. He really is. Guess I’m lucky, since he’s spending all his time stuck in a metal box with my ass - I mean stuck with my behind.”

Rex her shook their hands with tight, swift grip and a warm smile. Jim raised his eyebrows at Bess.

“And how do you find the Army, so far, Privates?”

“Well, it was easy ta find, just follow all the tanks.” Elvis  smiled and  looked down. “Nah, well, speaking’ jus for me, I mean, I was real honored when President Eisenhower sent me an invitation to this here costume party, and all the boys are real nice."

There was that scripted voice again, Bess mused. She had seen under the hood and Elvis' attitude toward being drafted had not struck her as honored and grateful.

"It’s not easy, golly, I tell you, it’s really whooping my - uh - caboose. But I never felt I earned my supper so well, that’s the God’s honest truth.”

Dori giggled like Elvis was the wittiest man in the world, but he barely noticed, his eyes were focused on Bess and she coughed, uncomfortably. It was hard not stare back. She almost forgot to breathe, and exhaled deeply as she forced herself to look over at the band.

Her eyes trailed over to the food, and she looked back at Elvis with concern, knowing he rarely actually went to the mess hall. He had been meeting her at her back stairwell every evening at 5:15, opening her car door and getting in without even asking. As if it were his own car and sliding across her seat was the most normal thing in the world. It actually did seem normal now, and had become part of her daily routine these last three days. They sat there in their own private enclave, and every time, as he laid his head between her thighs and rubbed her waist, she told him that they were just friends hanging out. Yesterday they’d talked past dinner hours and she’d ask him if he didn’t want to go to get food, prompting Elvis to share how someone had yelled out in line at him Monday, asking if he missed his teddy bears, and he hadn’t gone back since. Sergeant Norwood’s wife, apparently, was providing him with a loaf’s worth of peanut butter sandwiches every night. But that wouldn’t have happened this evening and Bess thoughtfully looked over at the food table.

“You must be hungry. All of you, I mean.” Bess stuttered, trying not to stare at Elvis, which, for some reason, backfired, because consciously trying not to made her think about him even more and she failed horribly at being able to stray from his blue eyes for very long. “Because you just got here. Of course.”

Dori smiled and took this as her cue to play hostess and lead Elvis away to the refreshments.

“Yes, of course, of course, y’all must be hungry, doing those tank exercises all day. I made the seafood dip over there in the jello mold, it’s a recipe from Ladies’ Home Journal, you simply must try it and tell me what you think.”

“Aw, darlin’, I don’t, don’t eat seafood.”

“The brisket is pretty good.” Bess chimed in.

Dori smiled even deeper.

“Hmm, well, I suppose it’s probably ok for a Yankee like ya self, Bess honey.”

She pulled her arm tighter around Elvis, leading him to to the brisket as Bess heard her say, “Personally, I find Millie’s brisket a little bland and dried out, but come on, you’re a growin’ boy, need to refresh ya energy.”

Dori’s giggle trilled back as she walked him away and Bess frowned again when Elvis turned back over his shoulder, clearly grinning deeper as he took in Bess’ eyes following him.

She made small talk with Rex, mentioning how the last time she had heard this band, The Flapjack’s, they had played all of Elvis’ big hits and there had been none tonight.

“He bribed them.”

Rex whispered, looking over at where Elvis and Dori stood, as she fed him a deviled egg and then a brisket slider, sticking her finger in his mouth to lick the barbecue sauce off. Her high laugh echoed all throughout he warehouse, prompting Bess to roll her eyes.

“Bribed them?”

“Yeah,” Rex continued. “Not to play ‘Hound Dog,’ not to play any of ‘em. And he bought cases of cigarettes for all the guys in our unit. He wants to make sure tonight is nice, smooth, and normal. As it can be for him, I suppose.”

Before she had the opportunity to inquire further Bess was distracted by the band as they started up a new song, a rendition of Johnny Mathis’ “Chances Are,” and she watched Dori squeal that she loved this song.

 Bess smiled at Rex.

“Well Private, want to cut a rug?”

He hesitated. “Uh, I think -" he looked over at Elvis, who was making his way to the corner of the dance floor. “Probably better if I don’t, gonna go check out the chow.”

“C’mon, you little Yankee, I’ll dance with you, even if you have no taste in brisket.” Jim took her hand and raised his eyebrow. “By the way, Elvis Presley is in love with you Bess.”

“Stop it, Jameson.”

“Did you see how his buddy hardly touched you?”

“How would he know? These boys don’t talk about their crushes in their bunks at night. ‘Sides,he is here with a date.”

“Oh fooey! Elvis doesn’t have to tell him anything, all Rexadus, or anyone need do, is clock how that boy looks at you and, man, that’s all she wrote. You don’t dance with another soldier’s girl, it’s the code. Dori doesn’t stand a chance, honey, he’s just too polite to turn her down. I bet his mama is just like her. Which is probably why he likes you.”

Bess gave him a stare.

“Ok, maybe not exactly like Dori. I cannot see the good Mrs. Presley making you go all the way to Dallas so she can dress shop at the boutiques. They were share croppers, right?”

Bess nodded at Jim as she swayed with him, attempting very hard not to look over at where Elvis and Dori slowly danced.

“Something like that. Very very poor. But Jim, you dance with me, and I was your friend’s girl for two years.”

“That’s different Bess, I hate most women.” Jim looked back over at Rex and his voice trailed off. "Most people, actually. You are saving me from all the eager beavers here looking to snag an officer as a husband.”

“Well, looking around, some of them would probably settle for snagging just a night with an officer.”

They laughed and Jim led her around the dance floor in perhaps the most chaste slow grip of any of any officer or gentleman that danced a slow dance that evening.

The song ended, and the band kept going with their version of Sam Cooke’s hit “You Send Me.”

Bess could not help herself, and found her eyes move to watch Dori press her cheek to Elvis’ and it made Bess’ stomach clench inadvertently. Elvis’ eyes locked on hers while he pulled Dori tighter to him, tilting his head with a smirk. Something in his eyes told Bess he could tell how much she envied her girlfriend, a fact she refused to even concede to herself as she looked away, scanning the room for her sister. To her dismay, Kay was now kissing her dweeby young lieutenant toward the back of the warehouse, not so much dancing as staggering back and forth in place.

Hitting someone’s shoulder, Bess turned to apologize until she saw Elvis had moved Dori right behind them. She stepped hard on Elvis’ foot, then apologized loudly and profusely. That didn’t get him to scout off and they remained dancing next to each other as Jim ignored Bess’s pinches at his wrists clearly signaling for him to lead her away.

“Why hello there, Moo Moo, fancy bumping into you here?”

Dori smiled big and pushed her hands further up around Elvis neck as she swayed to the rhythm.

“Moo Moo? Y’all are gonna havta tell me bout that” Dori giggled. “And look at you Bessie, honey, I just LOVE your dress.” Her eyes moved to Jim. “Y’all having fun?”

Bess stepped closer to Jim, nodding and avoiding the coy irreverence in Elvis’ dark blue eyes as she slyly tried to navigate her partner away from them. She kicked Jim’s shin to let him know that if he did not politely guide her away this very instant she would begin to kick harder.

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

Leaning against the wall during a ballad, Bess found herself making a mental note that Elvis’ seemed to avoid dancing to the faster songs. During this one, he had gone off to get some punch and then started walking in her direction only to be assaulted by a troop of MWR committee members, offering him samples of the desserts they had baked as a pretext to come and talk to him. Bess smiled as one asked him to dance, then turned at Mabel’s voice, observing the rosy glow of the other secretary’s cheeks.

“Mhmmm, the punch is good tonight.”

Bess smiled, then leaned in to smell Mabel’s glass.

“How many of these have you had, Mabel?”

The older woman replied without missing a beat. “Five.”

“I’m cutting you off, I think it’s been spiked.”

“Of course it has. By me.” Mabel took her glass back, gulping the rest down with a wink. “Someone needed to liven up this funeral. Hold this for me, won’t you?” She asked, and Bess’ jaw dropped a bit as she watched Mabel cut in on Dori.

Bess wondered if Mabel still preferred Burt Lancaster to the movie star she currently leaned her head against, happily watching her colleague cozily nuzzle into Elvis tall frame. He was a good sport, joking and swaying with Mabel for a second dance,  then stepping to the side and chatting with another swarm of woman who tried to contain their eagerness as they brought him another tribute of dessert platters.

Bess danced to The Flapjacks performance of “Jambalaya,” but quit as the music turned toward more and more ballads while the night went on. It was late, the people on the dance floor seemed to have coupled up and the decorum had slowly fallen to the wayside as the senior personnel disappeared. The air fell thick with a heady, hazy lust provoked by the swell of sweet, slow rhythm and blues and the release dancing provided from the stress of barracks life. Jim had ducked out, and Bess wished she had given Kay her keys and gone with him. She managed to stay as far away from Elvis as she could through he evening, which wasn’t hard. If Dori was not monopolizing him, he only made it a few feet before another woman tapped on his shoulder. During this time, Dori had cornered her and begun drilling Bess for information, asking why she didn’t pick up her phone anymore, and what the deal was with Elvis.

“Moo Moo? Is that a nick name? Are you sure y’all are just friends? Honey, say the word, and I will be on my way. I do not throw myself at men.”

Thinking of their double date last week, Bess restrained herself from explaining that this seemed to be Dori’s primary hobby.

“I promise, it’s a silly nick name, Moo Moo is what he called his childhood cow named, get this, Bess. I’m telling you, Doreen, we’ve just accidentally stumbled into a very casual friendship.” She rubbed her friend’s shoulder, and looked out at Elvis laughing with his dance partner.

“He's lonely, and just jives more with women. You saw him with Mabel in the office. I’m not saying I see wedding bells in your future either. But then again, Dori, you don’t want to get romantically involved with Elvis Presley, do you? I can only imagine the havoc he is going to wreak on the girls in this town once he gets his bearing and into phase two. That boy is a fast operator, so fast you don’t even know what happened and boom, you’re asking him out.”

Dori narrowed her eyes. “Mmmhmm. Well, honestly I don’t want to marry him, Bessie Boo. I just want to experience him. He is so soft, Bess. That jaw! And those eyes. Ufffff. And when he kisses you, oh, it’s like having lightening strike your cheek. I’m fixin’ to get more before the night is over, hopefully with my mouth.”

She winked as the song ended, and strode off to get him back. Bess had to giggle at the glare Dori shot a younger girl from the switchboard office who looked like she was about to ask Elvis to dance.

Lonely, awkward, and ready to be done, Bess rolled off the wall and told Kay she was ready to leave. Her sister politely told her to get bent, promising Dickey would drive her home. So Bess subtlety slipped out of the side door next to the stage and made her way towards her car, ambling slowly in the cool evening air. Bess found it a sweet respite from the crowded, stuffy ware house stuffy. Out here, it was peaceful, and she savored the darkness as she looked up into the black sky. The stars and moon were hidden by some clouds, and Bess tried to get lost in the murky shadows as she wandered away from the sounds of the dance. She begged the wind to tamp down the anxious buzzing in her head. It was then, when she paused in the passage way between two tall buildings, that she heard the sound of footsteps following her, and turned to see a tall, dark figure striding toward her with purposeful, swift steps. His shoulders were back and his hands were out and he slowed when he heard Bess speak.

“All dressed up and marching in a hurry, huh? Loose your parade, Tupelo?”

Elvis’ gait turned into a wide swagger and Bess stumbled into the building backing away from the force of Elvis’ magnetism. It was not a smart escape strategy because he followed in step, his hands on his waist as he looked her over.

“Al - al - always, the smart ass, huh?”

“I’ve been a smart ass my whole life, Tupelo. Try to keep up.”

Elvis shook his head, chuckling low.

“You’re staring. Stop it.”

“Honey, if you didn’t want me to stare at you, shoulda worn a different dress.”

She gasped, and Elvis stepped closer, his right arm up against the wall while his left moved over her waist and he whispered into her forehead, his voice was low, teasing, almost babyish.

“Be honest, Moo Moo, did you come out here cuz you wanted me to chase you?”

Bess looked at the eaves of the building above her, she could hear the faint sound of the band back at the dance playing “The Girl Can’t Help It” and Elvis hips swayed very slowly at half time with the beat.

“Nope, I, I was leaving, actually.”

“How could you leave without dancing with me, baby. Not even once. An ya hardly even talked to me all night. Every other girl in there is ready and rearin' ta pounce on me, but you make me come chase after you?”

“I’m - I’m not like very other girl, Elvis. I’m not trying - trying to ….”

The way his thumb trailed up her arm made Bess shudder and she lost her train of thought.

“Hmmm. Not tryin’ to what, Moo, huh?”

He leaned into her ear as he spoke, and the skin on her bare shoulder prickled as his thumb rubbed over it while he whispered softly.

His voice was warm on her neck, and it reminded her of the first summer Mama drove her and Kay down to Galveston spontaneously for a week. They had stayed in a cheap motel across from the beach and enjoyed the warm Gulf water while eating fried shrimp and hush puppies and getting sunburnt. There, in the golden sun of the Texas Gulf, Bess had forgotten how uncomfortable it was to move through the world. No, standing where the sun met the surf had set her free, and she had become a wild animal dancing in the water and screaming into the waves while the sand crabs tickled her feet.

Elvis’ breath on her neck had the same effect. She felt wild, relaxed, totally at the whim of her body as she bit her bottom lip and looked up at his half-lidded eyes. She wanted to pull him close and scream into his mouth, howl at the untamed force of nature that rippled beneath his cheeks. He tightened his hand at her waist and kissed her neck, but then stepped back at her shudder.

“Ya scared not scared of me, Moo Moo, are you?”

She shook her head, but trembled as Elvis fingers feathered lightly down her arm.

“You don’t never have to be scared of me, baby, I won’t ever hurt you.”

“Elvis, I -”

He kissed her neck again, murmuring into her skin. The top of his cap rubbed into her hair. “Wanna get out of here? Go somewhere we can jus… Talk?””

Just as Bess began to answer, she felt a light sprinkle of water on her nose and looked up as it started to drizzle down on them. The rain brought her wits back to her and she gently pushed Elvis away, feeling the water increase and her hair slip down over her face. She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek.

“You are here on a date with someone else, and I have to go home.” Squeezing him in a tight hug, she kissed his cheek one last time as he nodded, before removing her heels and sprinting off through the puddles to find her car.

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

Bess had managed to wash her face and get her dress off before she succumbed to the extreme need for a pot of hot tea. Now she stood in her kitchen, towel drying her hair and shivering as she waited for the kettle to boil. Hearing a knock at the door, she yelled out hurrying to the front of the house.

“Kay, the door is open! Or is numbnuts a catching disorder -  shit.”

There was Elvis, hat in hand, on her front doorstep.

“Numbnuts?”

She swayed to the side, watching the back of a white Studebaker whirl around the corner. A white Studebaker very much like the one Mabel owned.

“My sister’s boyfriend is not the sharpest shooter in his platoon.” She held her robe closed as she looked down at her thin, white silk night gown. The thin matching robe didn’t do much, but she felt more decorous pulling it over herself.

“Did Mabel sneak you off post?”

Elvis grinned mischievously and strode past her into the house

“Hello to you too, Bessie, whatcha cookin, good lookin'?”

Closing the door, she shoved him as he walked backwards down the hallway.

“Don’t you hello me, what are you doing here?”

Elvis unbuttoned his jacket, and draped it around her shivering body.

“Still cold honey?” He drew her in, rubbing her shoulders. “Let me see if I can warm ya up.”

His jacket was still cozy with the heat of his body as he drew Bess into him. Breathless, she let him enclose her in his embrace, folding her arms into his chest as she lifted her chin up to gaze into his eyes.

“There she is, there’s a good lil Moo Moo.”

Elvis leaned down to bundle her further into him, his hands moving inside her open robe to caress the sides of her body, his nose stroking hers as she closed her eyes and whispered into his jaw.

“Elvis, you shouldn’t be here.”

“I know honey.” He pulled her closer, kissing her cheek at the fold of her earlobe as Bess crushed into his.

Her mind was racing, racing the with knowledge that at any moment her 17 year old sister would come home and probably know how to work the door knob. Racing with the knowledge that her father and mother were flying back to Waco tomorrow and she needed to be rested and alert when she drove to pick them up. Racing with the knowledge that Elvis Presley was the absolutely worst choice for a romantic entanglement or fling, not just because he was famous, handsome, rich and probably already dating any number of women in Los Angeles, Memphis and God knows where else. And therefore, an unimaginable person to be seen with publicly or explain to her family.

But it was worse than that, she could already tell, from the way her mind bent towards him all through the day when he wasn’t around, and directed itself to him with an intense, buzzing focus when he was. For these reasons, she knew he would be the worst kind of all-consuming distraction that she could possible let herself get involved with right now.

Her mouth had other plans. Namely, how could it find his mouth?

“Elvis.” She mumbled as her lips brushed the nape of his neck and her hands wrapped around his body.

“Yes Bess?”

He looked down at her as she tried to find the words she wanted to say.

“I - I - I”

“I know honey, you don’t date soldiers.”

She smiled a lazy, goofy half smile.

“Mmmhmmm.”

He gripped her tighter, pinching the flesh at her sides.

“Honey, dating is not the word on my mind right now. I am not interested in asking you on a date.”

He kissed her forehead.

“I do not have no intention of driving up to your house in my pink Cadillac.”

He kissed her nose.

“I don’ wanna have to come meet ya mama and shake your daddy’s hand.”

He kissed her cupid’s bow.

“And I definitely ain’t about to take you out to fancy restaurant and buy you dinner.”

He kissed her lightly on the top of her mouth, his teeth grating over her lip.

“I do not want to date you, Bess.”

“Good, because I don’t want to date you either.”

“So don’t date me, baby. Jus kiss me.”

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

Click here to read Chapter Four: Dance

@eliseinmemphis @moonchild-daniella @tacozebra051 @ab4eva @kingdomforapony @everythingelvispresley @richardslady121 @dkayfixates @artlover8992 @peskybedtime @freudianslumber @amydarcimarie @toreigh @notstefaniepresley @18lkpeters @yynneessmons @lookingforrainbows @prompted-wordsmith @ashtag2887 @waiting4brucewayne2adoptme @returntopresley @girlblogger2002 @rjmartin11 @bigromansgirl-blog @literally-just-elvis-fics

Let me know if you want to be tagged. Feedback, suggestions, thoughts and questions always appreciated.

[starglitterz]

serendipity. (i)

─── chapter 1 ! ~ a fresh start (and a terrible first impression)

summary; when you, a waitress at the local coffee shop, are paired up with the new recruit scaramouche, you’re pretty sure both of you are going to get fired within a week. he’s just quit being a social media influencer and after being forced to work here to make ends meet, he’s ready to let everyone there know how much he hates it. the worst part? you can’t shake the feeling that you know him from somewhere. but as he slowly warms up to you, scaramouche realises that having a fresh start isn’t that bad after all, and perhaps the two of you meeting like this was pure serendipity.

a/n; tumblr doesn't let me fit 6 million pics per post so everything is collaged :) it reads in the direction

1 2

3 4

reading on mobile is recommended bc it might be easier to zoom in! i'm really really really excited for this series AHAHA it's a bit longer than my previous smau so i can't wait for you all to see how things turn out >< hope you enjoy the very first chapter of serendipity!

masterlist.┃next.

please reblog ! it helps a lot :)

groupchat !

irl !

it’s been a pretty relaxed day at komore teahouse, with a steady stream of customers who weren’t anything you and yoimiya couldn’t handle. dusk has already fallen, and you’re all closing up the shop while also preparing to meet the rookie. to be honest, you’re pretty surprised ayaka was the one brought up hiring someone new; komore rarely took in new recruits, and the business was small but well-run as proven by its popularity, with all the employees treating each other like family. hence the reason for your excitement, as the only reason ayaka gave you for the sudden decision was a cryptic explanation of ‘a friend called in a favour’. 

the familiar chime of the entrance doorbell reverberates throughout the empty cafe just as you finish wiping down the last table. yoimiya turns to you, eyes lighting up at the sound, “he must be here!” ayaka and thoma both rush to the front as well, with ayaka smoothing invisible creases from her perfectly ironed skirt and thoma dusting off crumbs from his apron. he beams and gives you a thumbs up, “nice work today,” to which you smile and return the gesture, “same to you, i swear the desserts smelled even better than usual.” “shush, he’s coming in!” ayaka hushes the both of you like a mother reprimanding her noisy children, and yoimiya can’t help but snicker, prompting you to shoot her a joking glare.

the man who appears in front of you is nothing like what you imagined. to be totally honest, you yourself aren’t sure what was your first thought when ayaka mentioned a new colleague, but it certainly wasn’t this. his shockingly purple hair is cropped right above his ears, and his eyes are outlined in red. his outfit is stylish, and you think you recognise some of the clothes from a fashion magazine you were browsing a while ago, which begs the question; if he’s rich enough to afford those, why is he working at a cafe? what shocks you the most, though, is the slightest hint of displeasure on his expression, with his lips already downturned into a frown as he scans the room. you think you might just be reading too much into it, he probably just has an rbf.

his gaze travels uninterestedly over the three of you before finally settling on ayaka, “you must be the one in charge?” the way he phrases it comes off as more of a statement than a question, as if he hadn’t even considered the possibility that he may be wrong. that already rubs you the wrong way, but you try to convince yourself not to let your opinion of him be swayed too quickly - maybe he’s just awkward. though you’re quite sure ayaka is surprised by his demeanour too, she manages to maintain a warm smile and reply, “yes, i’m kamisato ayaka, the owner of komore teahouse. and you must be scaramouche, our newest recruit. welcome to the family!” 

the three of you echo the sentiment with matching grins, but his fiery stare stops you short as you’re about to introduce yourself. “i have no interest in being part of this…” he waves his hands in the air to illustrate his point, “so-called family.” to say your jaw drops would be an understatement. “i’m only here because i need a job. i will do what my contract requires and collect my payment, that’s it.” his continuation only serves to make you more confused, but also lights a fire in you. this stranger has no right to come into your cafe and act this selfish and entitled and rude and- you already have a long list of choice adjectives you’d use to describe him. 

yoimiya is gaping openly at him, not even bothering to hide her shock, and so is thoma. you’re not sure what you look like right now but you’re pretty certain you’re mirroring their expressions. ayaka is the only one who still remains calm and collected, the very picture of demureness. “understandable. we all have bills to pay,” she smiles, but it doesn’t meet her cold eyes, and her tone is edged with ice beneath the friendliness, “but i expect you to do this job to the best of your ability, or you will be dismissed. you will start from monday.” he tips his chin up, jutting it out slightly as if to grudgingly accept her win this time, “fine.”

without another word, he turns around sharply and walks out, exhibiting not even a hint of hesitation. as the doorbell jingles once more to signify his exit, the entire quartet is so quiet you could hear a pin drop. until yoimiya, the bravest among all of you, breaks the silence with a “what on earth just happened?”

twitter !

groupchat !

twitter !

taglist (open) ; @kunikuzushiit / @scarakitty / @xiaophobic / @sashiette / @van-chii / @killuixz / @afchicken / @mikctp / @boba-is-a-soup / @sakushoujo / @achy-boo / @dee-zbignuts / @milza12 / @r0ttenhearts / @arraxthatsonjah / @abvolat / @elixirthe3rd / @beriiov / @kye-co / @2dmenarehot / @plinkuro / @infinn-toru / @boochandesu / @linn-a-a / @layla240 / @i23kazu / @chuduchok

urls in bold can't be tagged. send an ask to be added !

© starglitterz 2022. do not repost or modify in any way.

[rascal-xo]

RED WHITE & BLUE

Chp. 1: All Roads Lead to Perseus

FrankWoods × FemaleReader (Kind of reads like an OC but there’s no detailed description)

Chapter Summary: You’ve talked the talk with Adler, Mason, and Woods. Now you’ve gotta prepare to walk the walk…

Warnings: eventual SMUT, age difference, descriptions of gore, sex, and violent military actions/CIA stuff, trauma, strong language.

Tags: Slow Burn (sorry lol)

Word Count: 777

Series Masterlist

A/N: This is just an idea I had for a story but if y’all like it I will definitely continue :)

————————————————————————————

You sit in the cool air conditioned briefing room, your eyes darting around as you take in the faces of the other operatives seated at the table with you. This was your first briefing as part of the CIA's clandestine task force, and you couldn't help but feel out of place amongst the seasoned veterans.

What if they think you’re too young or under qualified? The thoughts occupied your head the entire time

Your thoughts are interrupted as the door opens and three agents walk in. You recognize them almost instantly. Russell Adler, the leader of your team. Through his aviators he nods curtly in your direction, before taking a seat at the head of the table. Alex Mason takes his seat across from you followed by Sgt. Frank Woods, who catches your attention embarrassingly quick. You shake it off and turn to face Adler.

He begins to speak his voice gruff and no-nonsense. "I'm sure you’re all thrilled to be here.” He reaches into the pocket of his leather jacket, pulling out a package of cigarettes.

You swallow unknowingly, feeling the weight of whatever task was ahead of you. You were a cargo pilot, not an active combat soldier. But the CIA had to have seen something worth their time to have picked you to be here.

“6 weeks ago 3 sleeper agents were discovered somewhere in the San Francisco area” Adler continues. “None of which were names on the list that was retrieved from the Lubyanka building, last year.” You lean forward, listening intently as Adler distributes files and photos across the table. The images show three seemingly ordinary individuals, but you knew better. They were highly trained operatives, trained to blend in and cause chaos when needed.

“All roads lead to Perseus.” Agent Mason speaks up. You recognize him from the files you had received upon speaking with a lead agent.

“Exactly. Except now, Perseus lives on as a network of people under the Soviet government. After the mess we caused last time its gonna be tremendously more difficult to get in and out of Soviet airspace under cover.” Adler suddenly turns to you. “That’s where you come in.”

“Gentlemen,” He continues. “This is Lt. Y/N L/N, callsign ‘Red’. She is an Air Force pilot and our newest recruit.”

You nod your hellos around the table, stopping a beat too long when your eyes stop at a pair of bright blue ones; Sgt. Frank Woods. You can feel a flutter of attraction in your chest. He lets his gaze wonder a bit farther, taking in the way you sit in your seat, almost crossing your legs a little lighter. You try to shake it off, reminding yourself that this was a professional environment and you couldn't afford any distractions.

Adler clears his throat, bringing your attention back to the briefing. “Red here, created a way to advance an aircraft to be flown without being detected by radars, regardless of stealth capabilities.”

“No offense Lieutenant, but is that even possible?” Agent Mason adds, looking over to you. Alder nods to you, giving you the floor.

You take a deep breath before answering. “It is. I developed a system that manipulates the aircraft’s radar signature to mimic or disguise a flight. It's a combination of software and hardware modifications and it’s been successfully tested in simulations as well as physical flight.”

The room falls silent for a moment as everyone processes your answer. Mason nods thoughtfully, “That could be our way in.” He says.

“We need to infiltrate the Soviet airspace undetected, and my system could give us the advantage we need.” You add, now more confidently.

Woods leans forward, looking at you with a raised eyebrow from across the conference table. “How do you plan on flying this mission? You're a cargo pilot, not a fighter pilot.” He almost sounds like he’s testing you.

You meet his gaze steadily, feeling a flicker of irritation at being underestimated. “I can fly whatever is needed of me, Sgt. Woods. I’m here because I have skills that can contribute to this mission, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to succeed.”

Wood’s dark eyebrows rise, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Good stuff, kid.” You can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at his approval.

Turning your attention back to Adler, it's clear that the stakes are high, and failure is not an option. “Tonight, get all of your affairs in order. We load up 0600 tomorrow.”

As the briefing comes to an end, you can't help but feel a mix of excitement and nerves.

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: "Darkness Before Dawn (Leave Hope's Light On)"

This week's Self Promo fic is another older chaptered CS story that I am bringing back “out of the vault” lol ;p.  Though there will certainly be some angst this time around, there is also a happy ending - I promise. This one is a post-Christmas/New Year's themed one, and it takes place between the 4a and 4b timelines of the show (i.e. after the defeat of the Snow Queen, but before Gold returns with the Queens of Darkness) and diverges from there.

Summary: A lovely holiday season has come and gone, and Emma hates to see it end. However, much more pressing concerns quickly take precedence when she and Henry are in a wreck. Now the Savior is fighting for her life, and those who love her can only hope she'll find her way out of the darkness one more time...

*Also available on AO3 and ff.net, if you would prefer...

(I've posted all five parts in this Tumblr post for ease of reading)

by: @snowbellewells

i. prologue

Only three days after Christmas, and Emma Swan finds herself driving Henry back to Regina's where he will stay until New Year's Day. She can't help but feel that the holiday has passed her by in a flash, and she is loath to give up the sense of her first real Christmas with her family, and especially her son, around her. Though she is ridiculously grateful that she and Regina have worked out a schedule agreeable to both of them and Henry; now she is afraid that with Henry gone for several days, all the leftover bits of holiday magic, pure, innocent joy, and the light that might still be lingering, will go with him.

Shaking her head, Emma sighs as she glances across at her son in the passenger seat, lost to the newest app on his iPhone and luckily oblivious to her gloomy thoughts. There is no doubt in her mind that she is being more than a bit silly, but that doesn't make the feeling disappear. Realistically she knows that Regina truly needs Henry right now; he is the one bright spot in a horrible time of loss for the formerly Evil Queen. Emma doesn't want to begrudge the other woman what little joy she can find. Yes, Henry needs to spend the time with his adoptive mother, but Emma still hates to see him go, even for a few days. So much of Emma's life has been spent alone, with no one to care about her, much less be there to share Christmas traditions, and she feels a near-insatiable need to horde the precious moments now that she has them.

It has been more fun that she could have guessed taking Henry to her mom and dad's to help them trim the tree, watching F rosty the Snowman and How the Grinch Stole Christmas , helping Snow bake dozens and dozens of sugar cookies, both to decorate and eat themselves, and then passing the rest out to seemingly everyone in town. She wants to make the warm and jolly December evenings they've spent laughing cozily together last forever, so she will never lose the feeling of being curled up between Killian, whose arm stretches lazily along the back of the couch and over her, and her father, chuckling at Henry as he makes faces to entertain his baby uncle and exclaims over his presents. Emma knows they all felt similar emotions at times, like when her watery eyes met her mother's over the boys' heads and a lump rose in her throat. This year has brought her more of a holiday that she could have ever imagined having a part in as a cynical, unwanted foster child years ago. Killian's arms have tightened around her numerous times in the last few days, and she has known that he understands all too well from the life he had lived. Her father seems to find every possible moment to squeeze her hand in his, as if reminding her that they had always wanted her with them like this.

Without realizing it, Emma lets her mind wander and loses focus for the briefest of instants. It happens so quickly that cause or fault will never be clear. Emma only glances at Henry beside her for a moment; takes her glance off the road no longer that she would need to adjust the heat or the radio volume. Yet, somehow, they hit an unseen patch of black ice on the wintry road, going at full travel speed. The Bug skids, back end fishtailing out one way, and then almost up even with the front, putting the vehicle perpendicular to its original path on the pavement. Emma scrambles to right them, and Henry calls out a warning, but it happens too slowly and isn't enough. Their little yellow car shoots offcourse, seemingly flying from the road and directly into a pole at the shoulder.

Mother's instinct makes Emma's arm dart out in a desperate effort to shield her son, and she feels – with both hope and fear – some of her magical energy leaving her fingertips almost like second nature, in an attempt to protect him. It is the last thing she feels before impact, and then her world goes dark.

ii. the call

"Mom! Mom!" Henry snaps out of the daze he hovered in after the sudden stop and the settling of the car. He can see snowflakes falling thickly through the cracked windshield, and bitterly cold air is filtering in, though he doesn't remember it snowing before they skidded. If his mom had not told him the Snow Queen was dead, and actually hadn't been evil, he would blame the unseen ice and strange drop in temperature while they were vulnerable on her. It doesn't really matter now, but he is still trying to get his bearings and stop his head from spinning. For an odd second or two, it’s like he is in a vacuum; roaring in his ears and dizziness makes him off balance and sluggish, but when his mind clears and he sees his birth mother slumped over the steering wheel, a thin line of blood trickling down the side of her face, eyes closed, not moving, his concern bursts through the haze.

Henry realizes that she must have used her magic to cushion him somehow and didn't have time to do the same for herself. Yet, even as he registers what she has done, the air around him seems to waiver, flicker, and whatever shield she put in place weakens and fades, allowing him to reach beyond it and touch her carefully, worriedly, enough to see that she makes no response.

"Mom…can you hear me?" he tries again. When he still gets no movement or reaction, Henry begins scrabbling around in the seat, then on the floor, until he finds his phone where it has fallen in the confusion. Swiping the screen quickly, Henry calls his other mom, then his Gramps, in rapid succession – once he has gotten an ambulance on its way.

As far as the teen can tell, nothing seems to hurt and he is completely uninjured. The car is caved in clear to the windshield from where it smashed into the pole head-on, but his door isn't blocked. He can get out, but is determined not to leave his mom until help arrives. Whatever Emma did to shield him came at the expense of her own safety, and Henry swallows back both guilt and fear for her at that knowledge. He is momentarily glad to be alone when he feels tears welling in his eyes.

Reaching over the console to grasp his mom's fingers in his, Henry threads them together and forces himself to hope it will all be fine. Her skin feels cold to the touch, and his brow furrows in concern. "Come on, Mom. Hang in there," he murmurs to her fervently, leaning in as though he can assure that she will hear him. "Please."

For some reason, as the silence stretches on and Henry worries more the longer she remains still, he realizes who he has forgotten to call in his anxiety. Killian will have to be told and will be crazed with worry for his mom. How he didn't think to call his mom's boyfriend until now baffles him. Killian will be frantic to get to Emma, to help, to see that she is okay, and he deserves to be with her. Henry genuinely likes the reformed pirate. He has more than earned his place at Emma's side. Hating what he knows it will do to the Captain, Henry also can't put this call off. Dialing once more, the young man waits as he hears the phone ring two, then three, times before Killian Jones picks up, sounding half-confused, half-exasperated at the modern contraption in his hand.

His accent is clear through the wire as he asks, "Henry? What is it, lad? Are you alright?"

"Yes, Captain, I'm fine. Just listen to me, okay?" Henry swallows hard, not sure what to say, how to deliver what he knows will be an awful blow. Yet, one glance at his mom's still, expressionless face, and he knows he has no choice … Killian might even be able to reach her. Henry is no fool. Both sets of his grandparents are True Loves – and he sees something just as deep and strong, if not as clearly understood, between his mom and Killian.

"Aye, lad," the Captain's voice breaks back in to agree. "My apologies. I will simply listen then."

Henry draws in a deep breath. He hates having to put this into words, but then blurts it out in a pained rush, not trailing off until the end. "Mom and I had a wreck. The ambulance is on its way, and they'll help, but Mom hasn't woken up yet. She's hurt, and I thought you should know what was happening. …I'm sorry…"

Drawing in such a sharp breath it sounds like he has taken a physical blow, Killian is stunned by the news. His chest tightens at the mere thought of Emma and Henry in pain or danger, and his mind is already racing to where she is and how quickly he can get there, what he can do. Yet, in the next moment, he knows there is something else he must take care of first. He can tell immediately by the lad's tone that he is already feeling guilt at being alright when Emma is not, and also at having to be the bearer of such awful news. He speaks firmly, and with intent when he responds. "No, lad, none of that. You need not apologize. You did not cause this, and you should not feel sorry at being unharmed. I have no doubt that is how Emma wanted it. Understood?"

Henry nods reluctantly before realizing that Killian can't see him, then manages a begrudging, "Understood."

"Where are you?" Killian asks, already moving around his rented room at Granny's to throw on his coat and grab the grey knitted scarf that Emma had brought him just a few days ago with a gentle smile and concern that he would take a chill. He is already reaching for the door as he adds, "I'm on my way to you, just tell me the direction."

"Head to the hospital – that's where we'll be."

"I will see you there, lad. I'm starting off as we speak."

"Killian," Henry breaks in again, strangely sounding as if he wants to reassure his mom's boyfriend, even though he is the one who has been in the wreck and is sitting beside his unconscious mother, "I know you were there once. Remember, they patched you up, even though you'd been hit by a car. They kept my gramps alive when he would have died for sure in the Enchanted Forest. They kept me stable when I ate the poisoned apple. They'll help Emma too. They have to! She's going to be alright. Just…I'll see you there, okay?"

"Aye, of course, lad," Killian assures, hearing both the pleading note in the boy's voice and the need to have his hope confirmed. The pirate already feels himself growing more frantic every second, wondering just how bad it is, but he can still try to give her boy a bit of comfort before he gives into his own fear. Though he speaks calmly to Henry, the desperate thoughts are already swirling inside his head. 'What if she doesn't wake? ' His beautiful, blunt, brave sheriff-princess, and he might never speak to her again, nor see her lovely green eyes sparkle with mischief. Killian shakes his head roughly, forcing that line of thought away. 'Not again. Not this time. Swan is strong. She will come back to me.' Killian has to believe that he will not suffer the loss of someone else he loves; even his life cannot be so cruel. "I'll be there as fast as I possibly can," he finishes saying to Henry, hoping the boy will be somewhat appeased; it’s all he has to offer.

"Good. Come find Gramps and me when you do, alright? ... And Killian?" Henry's voice fades for a moment, then adds, "You be careful. Mom will need you when she wakes up."

~~~~~000~~~~~~~~000~~~~~~~~~000~~~~~~~~~000~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After hanging up the phone, Henry lets out a breath of relief. Things aren't really any better, but the part he had been dreading is done. He looks back over to Emma, covering her hand with his own still-growing one, trying not to dwell on the chill to her skin. "Killian's on his way. Neither one of us want to lose you, Mom. I know you've had to do it a lot, but keep fighting. Stay with us."

Soon he hears sirens blaring, and then his grandpa peals up behind them in the town's outdated patrol car and runs to the Bug, ambulance wheeling in right behind him. Next thing Henry knows, David is jerking open the door and crushing his grandson to his chest. "Henry! Are you alright?!" he asks, drawing in a sharp breath as he sees his injured daughter over Henry's head. The EMTs are already easing her out of the car and onto a backboard for the trip to the hospital, and all he can really do is clasp Henry to him more tightly and watch. He feels the boy shaking slightly, even as he tries so hard to be strong. As a father, he wants to ask so many questions about his daughter. 'Has she spoken at all?' 'Opened her eyes?' 'What made her lose control of the car?' But he holds back, comforting his daughter's child instead. There is nothing he can do to help beyond that anyway.

Easing Henry out and guiding him with a hand around his shoulders, David ushers his grandson into the cruiser, studiously ignoring the sniffles the teen is trying to hide. He rounds the front of the vehicle, sliding behind the wheel and immediately turning it around to follow the ambulance. Still, he brakes for a moment, making eye contact with Henry and holding it determinedly. "She’s going to be fine. Trust me," he vows, knowing he shouldn't make such a promise, but unable to believe anything else. His daughter has been through so much to find her happy ending; it cannot be taken from her now. He hears Snow's eternally optimistic voice in his head, telling them to keep hoping, and he will not do anything less.

Henry merely nods in acceptance of his words though, and silence settles over them again as they make their way to the hospital.

iii. keeping vigil

Killian Jones cannot turn off the fear that has overtaken his mind – the worries for her, and the feelings of helplessness, that there is nothing he can do for Emma. He spends the whole walk – more run really – to the hospital with his heart in his throat, feeling it trying to choke him, in almost as much agony as when the Crocodile had held the organ and squeezed it in torture. His heart might as well be ash without her.

Unwanted visions of Emma lying pale and cold, as Milah had in death so long ago on the deck of his ship, flit across his brain – vicious waking nightmares that he cannot seem to banish. It pains him that he is already thinking the worst, when he knows he should not. Just as he once told Emma himself, his Swan too is a survivor. She has been proving so her entire life, and certainly as long as he has known her. Still, Killian cannot quell the near-paralyzing fear; he has lost everyone he ever loved, and he will not survive the loss of Emma as well, nor does he wish to.

Upon reaching Storybrooke General, Killian barrels into the ER, searching for Henry and David anxiously, and finding them in hard, plastic chairs in the waiting room to the right. "Henry! Dave!" he calls out, rushing toward them even as he gets their attention. "Have you had any news? How is she? Can we see her?" He does not mean to deluge them with questions, or to seem frantic in front of her worried son and her father, but he must know.

"Easy, Hook," David cautions, reaching out to place a steadying hand on his shoulder, "take a breath. We'll tell you what we know, but it isn't much at this point. We're going to have to wait."

Killian gives a curt nod and does try to draw in a deep, centering breath. He dearly wants to yell at the Prince, to rail at him for his seeming composure and for telling him to wait on word. Emma cannot wait; he needs to reach her. Instead, he forces the words down, blowing out a tense breath, reminding himself that David loves Emma as well, and is trying to help. "Fine," he grits, making his voice as controlled as possible, though still aching for something to hold onto, practically trembling with the effort of holding his body still, to appear calm. "Just please tell me what you know."

David nods, motioning for Killian to take the empty seat between himself and Henry, after moving their coats off it. "Emma's car hit a patch of ice. There didn't seem to be any others on the route they were traveling; it was just a freak chance of nature as far as anyone can tell. It was cold and starting to snow, and it just happened. They were traveling at road speed, so it's really a miracle Henry isn't in worse shape too."

"No miracle," Henry mutters, looking at his shoes forlornly, bitterness in his tone as he interrupts. "She threw her hand up, used her magic on instinct somehow to protect me, and she let herself get hurt."

Realization dawns on the Prince's face, as if he completely understands something that had been puzzling him. He doesn't comment on his thoughts though, instead moves as if to get up and embrace Henry. Killian jumps in first, getting Henry's attention and making sure the teen is looking at him. "Henry, what did I tell you on the phone? You can't blame yourself. Emma loves you more than anyone else in this world. She would never want to see you hurt if she could prevent it. There is no shame in that. She is your mother and will feel that way whether you are 13 or 33. She would not want you burdened by this, that I know."

"Hook's right," David seconds, making sure that his grandson knows no one believes Henry could or should have done anything more than he has.

Henry doesn't speak to agree or argue, but he seems less angry at any rate, and Killian's worry finally urges him to ask David to continue with his news of Emma.

Sighing, David does as he requests. "Regardless, Emma sustained a serious blow to the head, most probably from the dashboard, on impact. She almost certainly has a concussion, and she hasn't shown any signs of regaining consciousness. They have her in a private room under observation, monitoring to make sure she doesn't develop any subdural hematoma that puts undue pressure on the brain. If that happens, they will have to go in to surgically relieve it…" The Prince's face is grim as he tries to explain what he has been told, and Killian does not like the troubled expression the royal's eyes take on.

"Let us hope it does not come to that, mate," he offers awkwardly, not sure how else to provide comfort.

They sit in silence for a time, until Regina arrives. She and Henry leave to walk elsewhere in the hospital for a bit. Killian is honestly glad that Queen is here; she loves Henry dearly, and has raised him. She knows as well as anyone could what to do for him and what to say to him in this situation.

He clears his throat once they are alone and asks, "Is anything else being done for her? Can we see her? Sit with her? Anything?"

David shakes his head, trying to dissuade Killian before he goes up against the doctors and the hospital itself. "Right now, they aren't letting anyone in. She needs to be in a quiet, non-stimulating environment. When the doctor spoke to me, they didn't even want her to have visitors. After that, Dr. Whale assured me he would see what they could do. He said that her pulse was slow and a bit thready, while her blood pressure was up, and that her pupils were somewhat unequal in size. Both are concerns if she doesn't wake soon, and could indicate her unconsciousness deepening."

Thankfully, David pauses to draw breath and let that much settle in. Killian honestly does not know how much more he can stand, picturing Emma alone and helpless in such a fragile state. He wishes to be at her side, even if merely to hold her hand. She might have no awareness of him at all, but if there is any part of her which senses that she is alone, he would rather believe that she could sense if he were near as well. Killian knows that Emma's father is about to finish giving him what information he has, and is steeling himself for it, when they are interrupted by Regina and Henry's return and the arrival a few moments later of a harried-looking Dr. Whale.

"Any news on Miss Swan?" Regina asks brusquely of the doctor, cutting across both Emma's love and her father. Her voice sounds sharp and matter of fact, but Killian senses more care under the surface than he imagines Regina intends to show. She may be here for Henry's benefit most, but over time the Captain has seen her come to hold a grudging respect for his tough, no-nonsense Swan. They are qualities the former mayor has as well, and appreciates in others.

Whale looks startled by this new person firing questions at him, but as the prince does not seem to object, he answers anyway. "Not much has changed since I spoke with you last. Ms. Swan has withstood a significant blow to the head and is dealing with a concussion as a result. Her unconsciousness is a serious issue and must be monitored, but is not uncommon with this sort of injury. As long as her pulse returns to normal and her other vital signs remain stable, we are cautiously optimistic that she will wake once her body has had time to recover. If she remains unconscious through the night, we will make sure she is equipped to receive adequate nutrition intravenously in the morning. She will also need to be watched for respiratory difficulty or inability to swallow. However, we will deal with those issues if they arise. In the meantime, I am prepared to allow one visitor at a time, as long as each visitor remains quiet and calm."

Emma's four gathered visitors assure him that they understand all he has said and will abide by his orders; then they are led to the room where Emma rests. Killian is more than willing to allow Swan's father and her boy to each take their turns before him; he is so relieved to see her at all. Besides, once he reaches her side again, he has no intention of leaving.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~000~~~~~~~~~~~~~~000~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~000~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nearly two hours have passed when Killian Jones is finally allowed to slip into the silent room Emma occupies and be near her at last. It is nearing 9 o'clock in the evening, and he knows he could not have stood being kept from her much longer. David has gone home to update and reassure Snow, who had stayed with the baby, and all three of them will be back bright and early in the morning. Henry has left as well, with Regina only minutes ago, surprising Killian by wrapping his skinny arms around the pirate's waist in a tight, wordless grasp and furtively wiping a silent tear from his face as he pulled away. "Take care of her, Captain," he had murmured lowly, making Killian aware that the lad knew his intention not to leave her.

"Aye, lad," he had responded in a voice equally low. "Have no doubt of that."

Moving across the room dimly washed in the moon's glow through the blinds, he tentatively reaches Emma and looks down on her before sinking into the chair nearby. For a moment, words are lost to him as he wonders how to reach her. He studies her beautiful, pale features, unable to stop gazing on her as his hand comes up to lightly trace over her cheek.

Speech seems pointless in the stillness of the room and her unflinching slumber. He only wants Emma to know that she is not alone, that she is loved, that he would do anything to bring her back. Bending to place a kiss upon her brow, Killian only whispers, "Darling, if you can hear me…please come back to us, Love. I need you. Your boy needs you. I promise…I will be right here when you wake." He threads his fingers with hers, leaning over the bed rail to keep his face even with hers, to watch in hopes of seeing her eyes flutter open again.

And so he begins the vigil he will keep, no matter how long, until she returns to him.

iv. drifting

Unbeknownst to Emma Swan, New Year's Eve dawns clear and bright, a brittle chill in the air, but a piercing sunlit sky overhead as well. Her son, her family, and her devoted pirate captain have all been waiting, watching, hoping she will wake, wishing each time a new sun rises that her eyes will open to see it and return to them. With a little one at home, David and Snow take turns visiting the hospital in the morning and afternoon while the other stays home with the young prince. As they do everything, the two royals work it out seamlessly between them, an unbreakable team. They set a routine of arriving at 7:00 a.m. – coffee and doughnut in hand for Killian – and never fail to carry on hoping, letting not a single moment of weakness show or a second of doubt that any day now their daughter will be awake to return their morning greeting.

Killian has not left Emma's side since he was allowed in her room that first night. One determined night shift nurse had attempted to shoo him out at midnight, but the words had died on her lips as she entered to find him seated at the sheriff's bedside – silent as stone, fingers of his one good hand tangled with hers, hook resting on the covers where the metal gleamed sharply in the dim light. He had raised a dark brow in questioning challenge, but had not moved or made a sound. No direct threat had been uttered, but it was clear he was not going anywhere without a fight, and from then on they had allowed him to remain.

Regina brings Henry faithfully as well, timing it so that Emma and Killian are not alone long after whichever of her parents has made the afternoon visit is gone. In truth, Killian is grateful for the company. He can only sit so long talking to Emma with no response – no twinkle of her laughing eyes, no sassy comebacks for his best witty flirtations – without wanting to beg her to return, to collapse to his knees, to give into the tide of despair he feels hovering in the back of his consciousness as each day and then night goes by with no change in her.

An IV has been put in, to get fluids and nutrients to her, and though he knows it was necessary, Killian feels a sense of nausea climb up his throat at the thought of her being so helpless, how much she would hate not even being able to feed herself or take a drink of water. His Swan is stubborn to a fault, not willing to give up an inch, wanting to handle all that life throws at her with her own strength and her own two hands. If she were aware of what was going on around her, it would be driving her mad. What really sends him over the edge though is the confirmation that she truly is not present with him; she doesn't know what is happening around her and she can't do it for herself. He continually has to push down the fear that she will not ever again.

After the first two days, it is determined that there is no further swelling or dangerous intracranial pressure. Continued observation reveals Emma's pulse and blood pressure regulating back to normal and her pupils' return to near equal size. Each note is received gratefully by her loved ones, but Emma remains in her distant, suspended state. Dr. Whale tries to caution them all that the brain has its own way and time frame for healing. They need to stay positive, keep visiting and talking to her. He assures them that he has no indication she will not come out of her coma once her body is fully healed and ready, but he also cannot explain to them why it has not already occurred.

A feeding tube is mentioned on the night Emma has been in the hospital a week, and Killian is more relieved than words can say when her father protests rather strongly, asking them to give her a day or two more to wake up before taking that step. The process would not have driven Killian away; he would have been there at her side, squeezing her hand in his, trying to offer her comfort whether Emma was aware of it or not, but seeing plastic tubing forced down his love's throat while she is unaware and can't fight back or speak for herself on the matter – even if it is meant to help her – seems somehow cruel and barbaric to him. Killian honestly is not sure he has the resolve to stand by and allow it without falling apart, much less to be present and watch.

Gradually, with his extended constant presence, the former pirate has grown on Emma's two regular nurses. Though both the day and night nurses had been disapproving at first of this dark, forbidding man disregarding all their rules and haunting their halls, his obvious devotion, his desire to do anything he could to help, and his charming nature had won them over. The day nurse now greets him as she arrives each morning, giving him a maternal smile and encouraging his hope by asking if there has been any change in Emma over the night. The night nurse has more than once covered him with a blanket upon her arrival, finding him asleep in the chair right next to Emma's bed. She cannot help but admire a man who loves that deeply and holds on so tightly; she finds herself anxiously awaiting their little town's sheriff waking to see who she has in her corner.

As Emma's unconsciousness stretches beyond a week, and then two, the hospital staff watches more carefully than ever for respiratory distress. Due to her inability to swallow, they begin suctioning her mouth and trachea when necessary, wanting to prevent any chance of aspiration. After failing to get Killian to leave while the procedure is accomplished, they show him how Emma must first be turned to lie on her side, and he then gently holds her in place while they carry out their task. Emma's pirate remains undeterred by anything she needs from him, only wanting to aid in her comfort, to do anything that might help, might keep her safe until she returns to them. His hands are steadying on her shoulders; he can tell that even unawares the suctioning must cause discomfort from the crinkle that forms between her brows, which he lovingly smoothes with a tender touch. He aches to take the distress from her, and so he watches over her religiously, brushing her hair back from her clammy forehead, watching for even the tiniest hint of movement.

Once all visitors and staff have cleared out for the night and they are alone again, that is when Killian Jones can do nothing more than pull the blankets back over her, take her hand once more, kiss her palm, and whisper to her. "Come, Love, surely you've had more than enough of this. Open your eyes, Darling…please. I am not giving up on you. I know you can find your way back. You are too stubborn by half to let this beat you. This…cannot…be your end."

It is only then, as darkness falls in the middle of the night, the halls are quiet, and Killian is sure no one will see, that he lets his strength crumble. His weeping is silent and fleeting, but his shoulders shake, unable to throw off the fear that his princess has finally gone where he cannot follow.

~~~~~~000~~~~~~~000~~~~~~~~~~~000~~~~~~~~~~0000~~~~~~~~~~~~

Emma feels as though she is swimming through a hazy dream world, floating unaware and unconcerned by any of the worries, any of the cares that normally tie her down. She feels no pressure, no impending doom from some new villain, no worry over whether she is doing right by her son, spending enough time with her new baby brother and her parents, serving her newfound home as both sheriff and princess the way all expect of her. No sounds disturb the easy quiet surrounding her, wrapping her up like a warm, soft blanket. It almost feels as though she could close her eyes and sleep for hours, days even, and it wouldn't matter at all. There would be nothing to stop her.

As quickly as that thought comes though, her calm is somehow shaken by a tremor of fear. Sleep for days? No one there to notice or worry about her? No sounds, nothing to see, nothing to do? Something isn't right, and on the heels of that realization comes the awareness that she cannot seem to open her eyes to see where she is or what is happening. She cannot make her arms and legs move or respond to her gradually growing distress. Emma wants to open her mouth to cry out, but her lips don't part and no sound escapes. The cozy grey haze that had seemed so comforting mere moments ago has become a thickening fog strangling her and pulling her down into its depths.

A soothing croon breaks through the darkness surrounding her. Emma cannot immediately place the speaker, but she knows instinctively that this is a voice she loves, a voice she feels comforted by amidst the nothingness surrounding her. "Open your eyes, Darling…please…" the lilting voice pleads, and desperately, painstakingly, with every bit of determination and energy she came muster, Emma moves toward that sound – or at least she attempts to. She surfaces from the sea of swirling fog and finally opens her eyes.

v. welcome back, love

Joyous pandemonium is not an exaggeration for the scene in Emma's room just an hour after her waking. Despite Dr. Whale and the nurses' repeated cautions that they are still in a hospital, that the other patients should not be disturbed, and that Emma should not be overexcited after being unconscious for so long, Emma's family can't help their enthusiasm and relief. Henry is unable to cease motion; one moment he practically bounces on the balls of his feet at the foot of her bed, and the next he shuttles forward to hug her again, as tightly as he dares, and then backs away as if afraid he will break her.

For her own part, Emma never wants her son to let go, but she is still dazed and can barely speak around the lump in her throat, so she wordlessly lets him do as he will. She catches Regina's eye over his head more than once, and though the queen only gives her a silent nod of understanding, Emma senses that even her former adversary is relieved at her return. David keeps bringing her water, trying to smuggle snacks to her, and pestering her for anything else she might need which he can fetch. Snow simply stands at her shoulder, looking at her with a teary smile, and bouncing Emma's baby brother gently in her arms. It is more than a bit chaotic after the absolute peace and quiet Emma has been stuck in for so long…and she loves it.

It had been a different matter when she first opened her eyes an hour ago. Relief had flooded through her upon finding Killian there, fingers of his good hand wound up with hers, speaking to her through the quiet dark. Emma had been so glad she was not irrevocably lost in the grey vacuum of her subconscious that it had taken her a few stunned, blinking moments before registering her sailor's motionless shock, and how he could not cease staring at her with wide, disbelieving eyes over tear-streaked, unshaven cheeks - drinking her in as though she might vanish from his sight once more and trying several times to speak before finally stuttering out her name. "Em – Emma? You can hear me?"

She wanted to tease him, to break the tense emotional stakes and make him laugh the hearty, uninhibited guffaw she had only recently learned he possessed. Instinctively though – knowing what he must have gone through if he was sitting there looking as bedraggled as he did while she found herself in a hospital bed – Emma bit back any smart retort on the tip of her tongue and squeezed Killian's hand gently, merely nodding her head in response to his question. She realized just how dry and unused her throat felt anyway; speech seemed a bit more of a challenge than she had expected.

Killian had not seemed at all disappointed by her stillness. The smile that crept over his face at her barest of responses was near blinding and adorably accented by the laugh lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes. Leaning over her, he delicately cradled Emma's face in hand and hook, then kissed her forehead. It might have appeared awkward to an outside observer, but Emma found the gesture immensely comforting. Still gaining her bearings, she swallowed hard, looking up to him for answers.

Her captain seemed to understand, as he always did, what she was thinking. "You've been out for more than two weeks, Swan. And…I will admit…you had me worried." He paused, seeming to need a moment to rein in his own reaction, brushing his fingers through her hair as he did. When he continued, his voice was suspiciously husky. "I must go find your doctor. He will no doubt want to check you over now that you're awake. I shall call your boy and your parents too; they have missed you tremendously."

She nodded her agreement, sensing that Killian hesitated to leave her alone, and gave him an encouraging smile. Secretly, she was thinking how good it felt to wake up to someone looking on her with such love. It was something she had been missing her entire life, and with him, it had been there the whole time – she had only needed to finally see. Twice in the last month, she had nearly lost this; first to Gold's attempt to crush Killian's heart, and now to her accident. Suddenly, Emma was clear on just how much she would be missing without this man in her life, how much she wanted to rest in his adoring gaze every night and wake up to it each morning.

His small upturn of the mouth showed once again that Killian possessed the ability to read at least some small portion of what was on her mind. "I will be but a moment," he assured her as he stood, then leaned back in with a whisper in her ear and teasing glint of white teeth in a happy grin. "Welcome back, Love."

Now, in the midst of the rest of her loved ones, and the night nurse who Emma can immediately see has fallen right under the spell of her pirate's irresistible charm, hugs are flying non-stop, and everyone seems to chatter and laugh at once, both in trying to fill her in on all that she has missed, and back and forth with each other. Emma feels wrapped in a warm, noisy nest of chatter and touch and genuine belonging, and instead of feeling smothered or pressured to respond in the right way, she simply feels happy and grateful to be back.

Killian is still hovering at her elbow. He smiles and nods along with what is said, responds when he is spoken to, but she can tell he is still shaken, still anxiously watching her, making sure she is alright. It is as though he had sat beside her standing guard for so long, fearing she was about to be snatched away from him, that he cannot yet relax and believe the ordeal is over.

As their miniature party breaks up and the rest of the group files out with embraces and promises to return in the morning when she is at last released to go home, Emma finds herself wondering how to comfort him. It was not so long ago that she had been standing frozen in the clock tower, powerless to do anything but watch as the Dark One prepared to kill her pirate. The anguish on his face when their eyes had met in that terrible moment; the corresponding pressure gripping her own chest as his heart was squeezed, and the irrevocable knowledge that Killian was slipping away from her against her will, were still incredibly fresh. The memory haunted her in ways she did not know how to express or assuage. Emma was all too well acquainted with how Killian might be feeling now, but what she didn't know was if she could provide any comfort when she had been the reason for his pain.

"Hey," she whispers, holding out a hand to him, urging her pirate closer to where the bed was raised for her to mostly sit up and interact with her guests more easily, "come here, Captain." Her voice is still a bit hoarse and strained from disuse, but Killian hears it immediately and is at her side almost before she has finished speaking. He had still been at the door from seeing everyone off, but upon her request, he is with her in an instant.

"What is it, Love? Are you in pain? Do you need something?" His hand hovers over her anxiously, smoothing back her hair and brushing over her shoulder, not sure where to settle.

If she doesn't stop him, Emma is pretty sure he will dart away again, off to fetch her something she doesn't even want, when all she needs is him – to draw him close and let him hold her. She isn't sure which one of them needs the contact more, but it has become a desperate necessity. "No! Killian, wait…" she swallows and licks her lips, trying to make her voice sound less scratchy and to gather her nerve. It may be the lingering weakness in her system, leaving her feeling raw and vulnerable, but she finds herself needing to take the leap, to let Killian know he is as important to her as she is to him. "I'm fine. It's just…I just…I need you."

His gaze, as deep and blue as the ocean he loves, depthless and encompassing, warms her as he takes her in, almost as though he cannot believe her confession. "Of course…Emma. Anything you want, I will do. I promise, Darling."

Emma's throat nearly closes up at the glassiness of his eyes and the way his voice goes raspy with feeling. She knows by now that Killian Jones does not make a vow lightly, and her yearning surges even higher at his words. Biting her lip, she reaches to take his hand once more, tugs gently, and pats the space beside her on the mattress, before whispering, "Then come here…please…I need you to hold me. I…I th-thought you were gone…"

The hesitant look on her pirate's face is so worried and careful that it makes Emma want to giggle. If anyone who had known him as the fearsome Captain Hook could see him now, it would be hard to believe he was the same man. Yet, Emma can see the truth; his strength and daring have never faded, nor his dashing looks and unwavering air of command, but the drive and determination which had twisted into hatred and pursuit of revenge were once again fixed on heroism – and his commitment to her. "I don't want to unknowingly do you harm," he says anxiously, while refusing to meet her eyes.

"You won't," she breathes, pleading in her gaze when he finally meets it again, "unless you don't get in here." She gives him a playful wink as further reassurance and scoots over until she lies on her side, facing him with her back against the bedrail. She moves the IV so he won't pull it from her arm accidentally and then watches him and waits.

Heaving a sigh, Killian acquiesces, and though he wants to be sure not to hurt her, she knows he is craving the closeness as well. After shrugging out of his jacket and dropping it on the nearby chair and removing his shoes, he finally clambers gingerly up onto the bed next to her. Stretching full length on his side facing her, Killian leans in, nuzzling his nose gently over hers and kissing her lightly, still chaste and soft, but full of intense care. "Alright now, Swan?" he asks.

"Nearly," she responds a bit breathlessly. She reaches out to curl her fingers around the metal curve of his hook, taking this moment to make clear something he should already know. She is not repulsed by or fearful of his appendage – it is merely an extension of him. Pulling the blunted limb toward her body, Emma rests the arm on her hip, letting the hook wrap around her back. Then, she snuggles closer, fisting her hand in his shirt and burying her face in his warm chest.

They lie together like that for some time, comforted by the quiet closeness, heartbeats fitting to one another's rhythm. Finally, she pulls away just far enough to look him in the eye. Her words are fierce with passion when she speaks again. "I love you, Killian Jones. Don't you ever doubt that again."

He pulls her back, fervently ghosting his response with his lips at her temple. "You must know I feel the same, Emma. My love for you will never change – as long as either of us live."

The kiss that follows soothes both their fraught, churning hearts and finally brings the peace that both of them seek. Emma's hand finds the short hair at the nape of Killian's neck and begins to stroke through the dark strands. Killian's fear and sleepless vigil catch up to him in her embrace, and he soon drifts off to sleep. It isn't long before his warm, solid presence curled around her protectively does the same thing for Emma and she follows him into slumber.

Anyone else in Storybrooke General that night who peeks into Emma Swan's room cannot help but be touched by the sight of the lost princess- savior and her pirate prince finally at home…with each other. Right there for all to see is a vision of two healing souls finally granted a miracle.

Tagging a few who might enjoy (or have never seen this oldie!) : @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @laschatzi @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @drowned-dreamer @xarandomdreamx @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @xsajx @bluewildcatfanatic @stahlop @motherkatereloyshipper @statustemporary @booksteaandtoomuchtv @kazoosandfannypacks @zaharadessert @lfh1226-linda @wefoundloveunderthelight @mie779 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @bdevereaux @justanother-unluckysoul @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @ilovemesomekillianjones @thislassishooked @grimmswan

[multi-fan-dom-madness]

Chapter 7: Jehaat (Second Chances - Hunter x reader)

Jehaat. n. lie; untruth.

Summary: A few things come to light, things you're sure would rather stay hidden in the dark.

Chapter Warnings: more nightmares; canon-typical cursing; Nav continues to lie to themselves and to the boys; Crosshair mentioned; if I missed any please let me know!

Word Count: 4,895

Read it here on AO3!

< Previous chapter | Next chapter >

Thankfully, your plan works. You drop out of hyperspace just outside the gravity well of the Junk Moon, maneuver down into its sickly yellow, choked, smoggy atmosphere, and land the Redthorn close to the rendezvous coordinates. Echo elects to stay with the ship, not wanting to be mistaken for a droid again—you vow to get that story out of him soon. With minutes to spare, you and Hunter make the drop-off, get the credits for Cid, and make it back to the ship. 

The O2 scrubbers whir to life to clean the contaminated air as the ramp seals behind you. With a deep breath in the comparatively fresh air, you can’t help the way your upper lip curls in distaste. Your skin feels like it has a layer of sticky grime just from a quick jaunt outside. Hunter lifts his helmet with a faint hiss. Face still pinched in pain from his headache, he waves away your concerned expression. 

“I’ll be fine in a few hours,” he assures you. “The worst has passed.” 

“Assuming, of course, we can make it back without being shot at again,” you say. 

He sighs, shoulders slumping just a little, exhaustion creeping into his expression. “Assuming.” 

Echo’s feet appear on the cockpit ladder as he descends, saying, “I got in touch with the others. Cid has them out on a mission already—we’ll have to be smart about how we go back.” 

“I’m not—”

“—leaving your ship here,” Hunter finishes your sentence for you. “We know. We may as well sit tight until they get back. We’ve got rations for a few days, at least.” 

You exhale slowly, nodding. Lowering yourself into one of the jump seats—the one in front of your locker, you gesture to the free spaces around the cargo bay. “Make yourself comfortable. Since we’re gonna be here for a while....” 

Hunter shuffles to the rack you’d prepared for him just a few hours ago and perches on the edge of it, while Echo drapes himself across two seats across from you. The three of you sit in silence for a few minutes. With how hectic the past few weeks have been, you suddenly feel lost without something to do in the immediate moment. You fidget with the hem of your tunic. 

“Hey, Echo,” you say, remembering, “how about that story, the one about being mistaken for a droid?”

Hunter’s face splits with a grin at that. “Stars, that was so long ago.” 

Echo grimaces. “Well, if you must know...” 

Your sides hurt from laughing by the time that Echo’s story ends, and you’re delighted when Hunter, pulling himself up into the rack with crossed legs, offers another tale from one of their many, many missions on deployment. Wrecker’s mishap on Yalbec Prime, the flubbed sabacc game on Rodia, the one and only time Tech met his intellectual match—a story, you learn, he hates recounting: you catch glimpses of the blood-deep bond of these men, and your heart swells.

Hunter trips over his words occasionally—you sense the details he’s leaving out, the holes in the stories, but you don’t push. Sitting in a ship that shouldn’t even be yours, you know better than most when to leave well enough alone when it comes to the past. 

And you’re more than happy to regale your captive audience with stories of your own. That one time in the orphanage, you’d been maybe twelve, thirteen at most, and were hiding from the newest bully, and managed to steal a fresh-baked meiloorun pie to shove in his face. Hunter and Echo roar with laughter as you mime shoving the pie into the poor kid’s face; in hindsight, you didn’t have to solve the problem like that—Maker knows you’d gotten two weeks of probation for that—but a smoldering sense of satisfaction at their laughter makes itself home in your chest. 

By the second night, you’ve run out of safe stories to share. The rest of your memories are landmines. Dust them off too quickly or too roughly, and they’ll detonate in your mind, leaving you shaking and anxious. So you content yourself with listening, letting Echo cheat at sabacc, and with sharing companionate silence in the cockpit with Hunter. 

Despite your best efforts, your nightmare finds you again that night where you’d fallen asleep curled up in the pilot’s seat. You wake with a start, cold sweat clinging to your skin, chest heaving with panic. The dim glow of the ship’s consoles does little to relax you—this is exactly where you’d been after she died. 

“Nav?” Hunter’s voice is quiet, and when you spin, heart in your throat, you find his head peeking through the hole to the cargo bay. 

You gulp down a lungful of the cold, recycled ship air and push shaky hands over your face. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

“It’s alright,” he says. “You okay?” 

You chew your lip and shake your head. “Not really.” 

“Can I—” He cuts himself off, expression morphing from concern to anticipation. “Can I come up?”

“Y-Yeah.”

He pulls himself into the cockpit and hits the button to close the camera-like door. Hesitant, he lowers into the seat behind yours, his eyes glittering faintly in the dark. You’re suddenly grateful for the low-power setting the ship has, aware of the clamminess at the back of your neck, the tears welling in your eyes, the goosebumps that refuse to go away. 

“Your heart is going crazy,” he says, quiet, soft. “Nightmare again?”

You nod before realizing he might not be able to see the action. “Yeah. Kriff, I’m sorry I keep waking you up like this.” 

“Hey,” he says, “don’t be. Your safety and wellbeing are...important. To me.” 

“Oh.” You blink through the blur of tears. “Can I- Can I sit with you?” 

His arms open wide, and before he can even verbally consent, you’re up and lowering yourself gingerly into his lap, tucking your head beneath his chin. He is warm and sturdy and safe. After a moment of hesitation, he wraps his arms around you, careful to only touch where your clothing is, cradling you to his chest. His warmth seeps into you, chasing away the icy terror of the nightmare, soothing your panicked heart. You sigh. 

“You don’t have to tell me about it,” he says. “But we all get them. We understand.”

You heave a shuddering breath, blinking away fresh tears. “I...lost someone I cared about. Recently.” 

He looks down at you, but you can’t make yourself meet his gaze. Instead, you turn your face further into his chest. 

“A lot of people have been lost recently,” he says, not unkindly. “I’m...sorry to hear that one of them was yours.” 

In another circumstance his words might have upset you, but as Echo’s words from a few days ago repeat in your mind—we were born soldiers—you feel like you understand what he’s saying. “Thank you.” 

He just nods. 

Out the viewport, clouds of smog and ash drift by, barely illuminated by the ship’s internal lights and the stars beyond the thin atmosphere. Under your ear, Hunter’s heartbeat is strong, steady, comforting, and you find yourself breathing in rhythm with him. But every time sleep slinks into your brain, you jerk back to full consciousness. 

The third time this happens, Hunter shifts. “How can I help?” 

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you grimace. First you wake him up, now you keep him up. But he squeezes his arms just a little tighter as if to remind you that he’s choosing to be here. 

“Teach me Mando’a?” you ask. 

He chuckles, the sound deep against your ear. “Alright. Fair warning, though, it’s a bitch to learn.” 

“I’m persistent,” you say. 

“Of that, I have no doubt,” he says. “Alright, let’s see...” 

By the time the sun comes up, you feel moderately in control of the very basic components of the language. You appreciate the simplicity of it all, the use of one word for multiple meanings, even the harsh pronunciation of most of the words. Hunter’s patience feels bottomless, and for your part, you try to be patient with yourself, dutifully repeating the correct pronunciation until Hunter is satisfied you’ve got it right. 

“Gett’se. Get-say,” he corrects, placing more emphasis than you think is really necessary on that first syllable. 

“Get-say,” you repeat. 

Your stomach flutters at the proud smile that breaks over his face.

He says, “One more for now. What’s it gonna be?” 

With furrowed brow and sluggish brain, you run back over the list of words you’ve already specifically requested to learn. You come up with straws, though. “I dunno. What’s the opposite of ‘courage’?” 

He snorts. “Hut’uun. Coward.” 

A yawn interrupts your attempt to repeat the word, and you slump against his chest again as exhaustion finally pulls at your eyelids. Hunter squeezes your upper arm where his hand has been resting. “Rest now.” 

“Stay?” 

“Of course.” 

The next several missions take you far beyond the Junk Moon, much to your relief, and you’re able to leave the Redthorn behind on Ord Mantell yet again. There’s an easier sense of camaraderie you have with the squad now, a barrier that was broken somewhere between swapped stories and bleary-eyed language lessons. Most of the time, you’re still stuck in the pressing silence of hyperspace, breathing stale, recycled air, and sharing too little space with five other people. The days blur together. But this new routine is beginning to feel normal now. 

Pressing send on your datapad, you smirk at the hyper-distorted holoscan of a Bantha, captioned simply “chonk,” and count to three before Echo’s groan reaches your ears. Chuckling, you set the datapad to the side; yet another mission accomplished: find the exact kind of humor that Echo enjoys but pretends to hate. 

“Hey, Nav,” Wrecker says, squeezing out of the cockpit. “Question for ya.” 

“What’s up, big guy?” you say, swiveling the data center seat with one foot. 

He beams at the nickname you’ve chosen for him. “We were wonderin’—okay, I was wonderin’ if you know how to cook?” 

“I know a bit,” you say with a nod. “Why you ask?” 

“Well,” he says, shuffling his feet awkwardly, and the action makes your heart melt. “I know we don’t got a kitchen or anything like that on the Marauder, but if we got some supplies, do you think you could make some things? Or teach us?” 

You flush with a strange feeling; it takes you a moment to recognize it as feeling honored. Standing, you grin up at Wrecker. “I can do both, sure.” 

He scoops you into a bone-crushing hug, and several of your vertebrae pop. With a groan, you pat his side as best you can, your arms pinned to your side as he sways back and forth. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! Oh! Here.” He sets you back down a little too roughly, and you just manage to catch yourself as your knees buckle under the sudden weight put on them. Wrecker laughs and helps steady you. 

“Let me know what kinds of foods you want to try making,” you say as soon as your breath returns. “I don’t know much, but—”

“Whatever you make will be great!” 

“Thanks, Wreck,” you say. “Does Tech know about this plan?” 

He gives you what you suppose is meant to be a conspiratorial wink—but he doesn’t seem to have ever mastered winking, and just blinks really slowly at you with a massive grin, the scar on his head rippling with the movement. 

“Alright,” you say. “Maybe he’ll take it better from me than from you. I heard all about the last time you tried to convince him to store new technology on board.” 

“You’re the best, Nav,” Wrecker says, and then he continues past you to the racks where Omega sits, frowning at the datapad in her hand. She’s no more a patient student than you are. 

Tech is in his usual spot in the pilot’s seat, his back turned to the doorway, silhouetted by the cool wash of hyperspace. He acknowledges your presence with a nearly imperceptible turn of his head in your direction. 

“Hello, Nav,” he says. 

“Tech,” you say, taking a seat behind him. “You ever let anyone else fly? I don’t think I’ve seen you actually rest since I joined.” 

His usually nimble and deft fingers pause in their actions over the mess of wires and circuit boards in his lap. “I prefer to pilot the ship. Most of its modifications are my own, so I know it best. The only person not technically allowed to fly it is Wrecker. And Omega, of course, as she has not started lessons.” 

“And me,” you say with a teasing smile that he can’t see. 

He hums thoughtfully. “That is a different matter. You are a nat-born.” 

“‘Nat-born’?” you repeat. The term isn’t familiar to you, and you can’t imagine Tech saying anything quite so obviously offensive to your face, so confusion tilts your head to the side.

“Yes,” he says. “Someone who was naturally born. All of the clones came out of test tubes, and as such we technically weren’t ‘born’ the way you were.” 

You frown. “Okay, first of all, just because you weren’t ‘born’ from another person doesn’t make you any less of a person. I know that tone, Tech. And secondly, why do I get the sense you think me being a nat-born is some kind of issue?” 

He finally looks up from his project for a brief moment, his eyes meeting yours and then flicking away. “I did not say clones are any less of a person. And it is not so much an issue as it is a scientific fact: clones, even regs, are genetically modified to be stronger, more resilient, faster, and better in almost every capacity to nat-born soldiers.” 

That leaves you with a lot to ponder. If clones were so advantageous as troopers, why had you been part of an all ‘nat-born’ cohort in the academy? The sudden memory of the academy surprises you, and you’re halfway out of the cockpit before you remember the reason you went in there in the first place. 

“Oh, Tech, by the way,” you say, and when he hums in acknowledgement, “we’re planning to pick up some small kitchen appliances to have on board. Just thought you should know.” 

And the cockpit door closes on the beginning of Tech’s protest. 

“Kark it all,” you grumble, kicking at a loose rock in the middle of the dirt path. Except it isn’t a loose rock, and pain flares in your big toe even through the sturdy leather of your boot. “Kriff!” 

Ahead of you, Hunter’s helmet turns. “You alright back there, Nav?” 

Stifling yet another swear, you wave his concern away. “Fine. Doing great.” 

He grunts, but you’re too frustrated with yourself to care whether he believes you or not. By this point, even Omega is beginning to doubt where the squad’s string of bad luck will come to an end, and the rest of you are reaching the end of your fuses. Hot tendrils of frustration coil in your stomach as you limp at the back of the squad. Maybe, you think bitterly, the problem isn’t us. Maybe it’s Cid. 

Scratch that. You know it’s Cid. Her intel is never right, she doesn’t seem to care whether or not any of you eat or are well, and these days she barely even addresses you, in holocalls or in person. 

So wrapped up in your brooding, you nearly walk into Hunter where he’s stopped. Blinking, you catch yourself just before impact. His hands rest on his armored hips, his head tilted back to take in the mossy tree branches and glimpses of dazzlingly blue sky beyond them. Swatting at a bug buzzing in your ears, you come alongside him, concerned. 

“Something the matter, Sarge?” you ask. 

He shakes his head, tipping his helmet toward you. Try as you might, you can’t see past the dark reflective visor to his gray eyes within. “Walk with me?” 

You bite down the urge to snark that you’ve been walking, and instead simply gesture ahead. Falling into step beside him, Wrecker’s broad shoulders become more and more distant through the thick undergrowth. Worry is on your mind, but not for getting lost; with Hunter at your side, you don’t think you could ever get lost. No, you’re worried about what Hunter might want to chat about. 

Heart squeezing in anticipation, you nervously pop your knuckles. You’re not used to this slow dance, this slow orbit as your gravities continue spiraling you closer and closer, but never as close as you want. You’re used to hot sparks and deep-cut emotions and high-strung expectations—but as he lifts his helmet, his eyes finally meeting yours, you allow yourself to breathe. You’re not just building a relationship with one person, you realize: you’re building a family. 

“I think it’s time we talk about some of those things that are ‘on your own time,’ Nav.” He holds your gaze for a moment, his expression softening. “I don’t want to push you, but I—” He shakes his head. “I can’t trust you until you trust us with your past.”

Ah. You swallow thickly. He’s comforted you through several more nightmares since Quantxi, and you’ve never revealed more to him about the details, the raw edges of loss still too sore to probe any deeper. And your traitorous mind immediately scolds you. You’re not worthy of his trust even if you tell him about Arien. You’re a fraud, a liar, and a danger to every single one of them.

“Nav?” he says. 

You blink and shake your head, dislodging those thoughts, guilt pooling in your fingertips. “Sorry, yeah, of course. Tonight, after Omega goes to sleep.” 

Part of you expects him to move ahead again, to catch up to the rest of the squad. To your surprise, he stays by your side, matching your pace as you trudge between massive ferns and over muddy puddles. Neither of you speak again, but you find you don’t mind, even with the impending conversation looming darkly in your thoughts. 

You’ve taken to tucking Omega into bed at night. Sometimes, you sit with her; sometimes, you simply hand Lula over and pull the curtains shut. Tonight, she grabs your hand as you turn to leave, her wide, innocent eyes silently pleading for you to stay. You offer her a comforting smile. Crawling up into the gunner’s mount, you lean back against the cold, curved wall, and Omega curls against your side with Lula in her arms. You gently stroke her hair the way she likes. Most nights, she’ll fall asleep if you do this long enough, but tonight, she seems...restless. Anxious. 

“Nav?” Her voice is small, timid, and so unlike her usual boisterous confidence that you look down at her in surprise. 

Her blonde curls splay over your thigh where her head rests. Twirling a strand in your fingers, you say, “What’s up, kiddo?” 

“Do you ever miss the orphanage you grew up in?” 

Not what you’re expecting. You immediately open your mouth to answer no, why would you miss that place? But something stays your tongue. She’s got to be asking for a reason, you figure, so you take a moment to actually consider the question. “Not...often. I feel like I was a different person then. And that’s not a bad thing, but I prefer who I am now.” 

She just nods and hugs Lula tighter. 

“Meg?” you say gently, squeezing her shoulder. “Everything okay?” 

She nods again, but a soft sniffle reaches your ears. 

Your heart breaks. Without a second thought, you scoop your arms under her small frame and bring her into your lap. She buries her face against your tunic and, after a moment, her shoulders shake with quiet sobs. 

You rock her and continue stroking her hair. “Hey, shh, it’s okay, sweetheart. I’m here. You’re safe. It’s gonna be alright.” 

As she cries quietly into you, slowly soaking your front with her tears, your entire heart shatters with each sniffle. You want to fight who or whatever made her feel like this. You want to hold her for the rest of her life and protect her. And, in a calming realization, you understand that you’d even die for this child. 

The cockpit door slides open. Hunter emerges, then immediately halts upon seeing you and Omega. Shock and concern flicker across his face, but when he takes a step forward, you shake your head at him. 

“She okay?” he mouths, his brow furrowed. 

You shake your head again. With a jerk of your chin, you silently urge him back into the cockpit. I’ll fill you in later, you try to convey. 

After a moment’s hesitation, he returns to the cockpit. In your arms, Omega begins to calm down, her sniffles becoming less frequent. She eventually raises her head to look up at you, her eyes red-rimmed and face splotchy. 

“Sorry I ruined your shirt,” she hiccups. 

A soft smile tugs at your lips. “S’okay, bug. Just a piece of fabric. You wanna talk about what’s going on now or later?” 

Her face screws up and fresh tears well in her eyes. You cradle her closer. “Shh, shh, I’m sorry. We’ll sit here as long as you need, kiddo. I’m not going anywhere.”

She sobs and wraps her arms around you, smushing Lula between your bodies. “Promise?” 

You chew your lip and close your eyes. Leaning your head down, you press a kiss to her hair. “If you wake up and I’m not here, I’m only going to be in the cockpit.” It’s the best promise you can make right now. 

“O-O-Okay,” she sniffles. Her voice is muffled against your chest, but she takes a deep breath and says, “I f-found a holoscan of the squad while I was looking for- for clean clothes. And the holo— it had—” Sobs overtake her again, and you resume rocking her, whispering sweetness against her hair. She can’t tell you the rest of the story, you realize. 

You hold her until she falls asleep, only moving when you’re sure she won’t wake. Despite your physical stillness, your mind whirls at the speed of hyperspace with emotions and thoughts. What was in that holo that made her so upset? Your mind flashes to a million possibilities—none of them particularly child-friendly—and as you slowly extricate yourself from her sleeping grasp, you determine to ask the boys as soon as you’re in the cockpit. You draw Omega’s curtains closed out of habit. 

You nearly collide with Hunter standing in the doorway, his face drawn with worry.

“Kriff!” you both curse. 

“Sorry,” you say at the same time, and you shake your head, gesturing to him. “You first.”

“Is she okay? What happened?” he asks, looking past you to her closed curtains, then down at your tear-stained tunic. 

You gently usher him back into the cockpit. The other three men have similarly worried expressions, and Wrecker hugs his knees to his chest. Tech even sets down his project, devoting his entire attention to you. Hunter drops heavily into one of the open seats and rubs his face. 

Crossing your arms, you rub the skin of your bicep with your thumb, a self-soothing habit. “She wouldn’t tell me what happened. Not fully, anyways. She said something about a holoscan of the squad?” 

All four men exchange an inscrutable glance. Wrecker lowers his head, a sad frown pulling his face down. Genuine concern flashes through you.

“What is it?” 

Hunter sighs. “Seems like we have a lot to talk about tonight.” He gestures to the last open seat, next to where Wrecker sits on the metal floor. 

You draw your feet up underneath you and swivel the chair to face them all. “Do you want to start, or should I?” 

His eyes flick around the room before settling on yours again. His bandana is coming loose, you notice distractedly, and stray curls fall into his face. He visibly swallows and just gestures limply at you. 

“What do you want to know, then?” you ask. And even to your own ears, your voice sounds so very tired. 

“What’s your deal with the Empire?” Echo asks. His tone isn’t accusatory, but you still grimace. 

Aiming for a joke, you say, “What, I have to have a reason to dislike fascism?” 

Your attempt at humor falls flat. You cast around for a moment, so used to lying, to deflecting, to protecting yourself. Then you land on a half-truth, like you’ve done so often to this point. “The Empire killed my former partner.”

Several nods of silent understanding. Hunter says, “That...explains some things.” 

The words are unsticking themselves from the roof of your mouth now that there’s a crack in the dam. The blood of your bruised heart flows more freely, yet more painfully. “She was... smart. Quick as a whip and hit twice as hard. We’d known each other for...for a long time. Arien was my best friend. Probably my only friend.” 

“That was her name?” Tech asks, voice softer and more contemplative than you’ve ever heard before. 

“Yes.” You muster a smile, tears clouding your eyes. You avoid the heart of the truth still, the reason for her death, because the pain is too much to bear, even now. “After she, uh, well.... Afterwards, I took her home to her people so she could be buried.” 

“Where was she from?” Tech asks.

“Iridonia.”

“Ah. A Zabrak. How interesting.”

“That’s one word for her.” 

Wiping the tears from your face, you meet Hunter’s eyes. His brows are furrowed, but there’s a well of concern in his gaze. Offering a tight smile, really more of a grimace, you say, “What else?” 

“Your background,” he says. “What happened after you left your orphanage? How do you know how to fight the way you do?” 

You drop his gaze, twisting your fingers over one another, heart beginning to thud harder in your chest despite your best efforts at breathing deep. “I... I have some military training. From during the war.” 

“Formal training?” Echo says. 

You nod. “The war ended before...” 

Again, another half-truth. The war had ended before you were sent into the field—and the Republic fell before you realized the might of the Empire supplanting it. 

You expect one of them to press you on that, and you’re surprised when instead, Wrecker sniffles. “There was one of us who reacted to Order 66.” 

Pain settles onto all four of their faces at his words. You nod at Wrecker so he can continue. 

“Crosshair,” he says. “He...turned on us. And the Empire has just made him worse. So we know what it’s like to lose someone to the Empire.” 

His words are nearly a direct echo of Hunter’s on Quanxi, and you flick your gaze to him. He’s looking out the viewports, though, and you turn back to Wrecker. 

“I’m so sorry. Is he..?”

“Last we saw him, he was alive,” Echo says, voice gruff. “But he made his choice to stay behind.” 

He shares a look with Tech that you can’t quite decipher. When you study Hunter again, he seems more withdrawn, the furrow in his brow deeper, the shadows playing over his face darker. Your heart, already bruised and aching, breaks just a little more for them. It’s one thing to lose a close friend, and another to lose a family member. 

“The holoscan,” you murmur. 

Wrecker pushes himself to his feet, and returns a few moments later with a holoreader in his hands. The device is cold in your palms. Peering up at you from the screen is your squad—but no, it’s not quite the same. Crouched in front is Tech, his face bare; behind him are Hunter, Echo, Wrecker, and an unfamiliar fifth, posed with a sniper rifle.

“This is Crosshair?” you ask, not looking up from the scan. You sense more than see them all nod. Trailing your fingertips over the screen, you trace the outline of Crosshair’s figure. “She misses him.” 

“We all do,” Wrecker says. 

You return the datapad to him. He cradles it to his chest.

“Have you tried—”

“Yes,” Hunter cuts you off, voice sharp as the blade tucked into his armor. You nod once and drop the subject. 

An uncomfortable silence falls over all of you for several minutes—or several hours. You’re not sure which. One by one, though, they rise to crash on the racks, until it’s just you and Tech left. 

He’s since resumed fiddling with a project. Without looking up, he says, “You should rest.” 

“You too, Tech,” you say with a yawn.

“Hm.” He exchanges tools. “Technically.” 

“What?” 

“My name,” he says. “It is technically, ‘Technically.’ Tech for short. Like yours is Nav for short.” 

You gape at him in wonder. “I had no idea.” 

“Well, it’s quite a simple contraction of ‘Naviga’—”

“No, not that,” you laugh. “Your name. Technically. I thought—”

“Technology?” he offers. 

You can only nod. “I mean, it also fits, all things considered.” 

“Perhaps,” he says, rising. He holds your gaze now, for longer than he’s done in the weeks—months?—since you’ve joined this squad. Your breath catches. And you nod in understanding as he retreats with a quiet, “Goodnight, Navigator.” 

“Goodnight, Technically.”

Taglist: @the-hexfiles

[what-if-queen-camilla]

Chapter 32

1st December 1995 - part 2

"After further testing has been undertaken and professionally evaluated in accordance with the latest and newest scientific research, His Royal Highness The Prince of Wales cannot be excluded as and is therefore considered the biological father of Ms Theodora Elizabeth Anne Parker Bowles, born on 4th August 1987. This may not affect the line of succession in any way.", the official announcement from Buckingham Palace read and, somehow, Camilla felt dehumanised, not only on her own, but also on her daughter's behalf. It sounded like a random scientific discovery, completely disregarding the fact that all of this was about an innocent, eight-year-old child who's world had been turned upside down within the blink of an eye only just about a week ago.

"Don't worry, darling, that's just the official announcement.", Charles had tried to prepare her on the phone earlier that morning. "My statement will follow about five minutes later and Granny tells me she's got something to say as well…"

And, this time, the heir to the throne did, indeed, release a statement, breaking with all old traditions and values of "never complain, never explain", completely u-turning his attitude compared to the interview he had given one-and-half years ago, freely and proudly stating:

"I am delighted to officially acknowledge Ms Theodora as my daughter, happily taking on all rights and obligations that paternity brings about. Mrs Camilla Parker Bowles, Ms Theodora's mother, and I, have been knowing each other for over twenty years and she has been my best friend for almost two decades; she has always been the one person who understands, supports and encourages me when nobody else does; and, eventually, after both our marriages to other people had already broken down irrevocably, we realised that we were more than just friends, we fell in love and became a couple and our wonderful, sweet, little daughter is the most beautiful product of the greatest love of my life.

I know that not everybody in this country will approve of this, I am well aware that these revelation will undoubtedly cause controversy - but today I'm not only speaking to you as the future monarch of a country that needs to be guided into the 21st century - today I'm also speaking to you as a father, who loves all of his three wonderful children equally, as a man who just wants to be with the woman he loves - the one woman who's been my strength and stay through some really tough times, who's suffered all different sorts of scrutiny, judgement and humiliation - though the majority of you have never even met her. So, today, I'm kindly asking you - the people of the countries I have always loved so much and of which I - God willing - one day shall have the great honour to be King: have compassion. Together, let us follow the holy commandment of forgiveness, let us 'charity' be more than just a fine word; together, let us create a society in which nobody has to be afraid or feel ashamed or excluded because of whom they love.

As announced by the Palace Office earlier, this will not affect the line of succession in any way. But it will affect my life and those of the people I love, including all of you, but I trust that, together, we can find a way to cope with these things as best as possible, not only for my and my family’s own sake, but for everybody in our society who already is, or might one day find themselves in a similar situation. It might not be ideal, it's not what anyone ever would initially plan or wish for, but it's what happens, in the United Kingdom, across the Commonwealth and, eventually, the whole world. Last but not least, I'd once more like to appeal to your sympathy; sympathy for my three children, their respective mothers, and my partner's children from her first marriage. Be compassionate, be kind. Don't blame them. None of this is any of their fault. I can only hope this will not affect your trust in me and my connection to all of you across our beloved Commonwealth."

He closed his statement with "Your always loyal servant Charles"; he had recorded it himself, his soft, vulnerable voice only further underlining the pain he was feeling on behalf of everybody involved, and listening to him caused Camilla more than just a few tears: it had been broadcasted on the BBC, followed by "Everybody hurts" from R.E.M., (obviously, in order to create the most dramatic atmosphere imaginable), before the moderators started analysing it all "exclusively" in an "exclusive" special, where people from across the country were invited to join via telephone and share their thoughts and opinions; and to her very surprise, apart from a handful of negative comments, the majority of reactions were actually… positive. "I think it's a good move of him to be honest!", one person said, and another one agreed: "He's been very brave and we should appreciate that". Someone else added: "I've never heard him talking so passionately about anything or anyone. It must be real love, and who in their right mind could ever be against that?" And, eventually, before they closed the programme with Phil Collins' "Against all odds", somebody else concluded: "I think he'll be a good King! Just what our country needs." Camilla had been following it all on her own in the guest room at Annabel and Simon's house she was currently living in, only just accompanied by a Gin and Tonic and a few cigarettes to prevent herself from losing it completely; she couldn't deny that it'd done something to her, that she was touched, beyond moved, if she was honest, that she'd never loved him more and wanted nothing more than to fall into his arms, hold him tight and kiss him as if there was no tomorrow…

As if on command, somebody knocked on the door at that very moment. "Yes?", she asked, rushing over to open it. "Milla, here's… a visitor for you…", Annabel explained and, before she could've added something, the door flung open and Camilla was in Charles' arms. "Oh my God, darling!", she sobbed, almost forcefully pressing against him. "That was brilliant. You were brilliant!", she praised him with a teary voice, between desperate kisses and heartbreaking sobbing. "I love you, darling.", she whispered into his ear, a mixture of pride, adoration and lust in her voice. “I love you, too, darling,” Charles replied, his eyes full of love for Camilla. He could easily get lost in her bright blue eyes and her wonderful face, framed by her cheeky blonde curls. It had been quite some time since he’d last seen her so unbothered, almost happy and cheerful. Maybe, after a long, dark winter there’d finally be a wonderful spring and a warming summer for them, filled with sunshine and bees and happiness. Maybe, after all they’d gone through, their time was finally about to come. They both were surely hoping so.

[greetings-inferiors]

give me manga reccommendations (please)

i think i'm gonna start reading again

i'll start with the classics like tokyo ghoul and black butler and death note because i did already read the first few volumes of them (like 2 yrs ago tho so ill have to reread)

but i want reccommendations :3

Why are you awake at 3am

Anyway my actual recommendations -

Tokyo ghoul and death note are GREAT starting points, two of the best mangas ever written.

The middle of death note does drag a bit, but the ending makes up for it imo. And obviously the first half is some of the best manga ever written. It’s also really short so you may as well, you won’t regret it.

Tokyo ghoul is fantastic, and I really recommend it, ESPECIALLY if you haven’t watched the anime. I wish I read the manga first every day. One of the most beautiful manga I’ve ever read.

I’ve never read black butler but I’ve heard good things.

Now, for my new recommendations (from least to most recommended)

One punch man is gut achingly funny, though I haven’t been keeping up with it

If you get into one piece you won’t run out of entertainment for months, what I’ve read it pretty good and apparently it just keeps getting better.

Spy x family is similarly gut achingly funny, but with a fantastic and gripping plot, especially the newest chapters. It’s one of two mangas I still keep up with for every chapter.

Assassination classroom is hilarious, but heart wrenchingly sad. It’s fantastic. It was my favourite manga for a long time.

And, of course, the big one. Jojo’s bizzare adventure is my favourite manga of all time. It’s one of my favourite pieces of media ever made. There’s genuinely nothing like it. Every part is completely unique, from the martial arts of part 1, to the murder mystery of part 4, to the heists of part 9. I am not kidding when I say that every part is its own genre. It’s also all really good. There’s an argument for all parts to be the best. And the title isn’t lying. In fact, it may be lying by omission. It’s not just bizzare - it’s batshit. In the best possible way. The only problem is that part 1 drags a bit, even though it’s short and imo still really good, so it’s a bit difficult to get into (and you are NOT part skipping, I WILL DISOWN YOU). It’s better than the anime though, so if you’re going to do jojo it’s best to start with the manga (the first three parts are MUCH better as mangas). But once you get to the end of part 1, it’s non stop PEAK. The ending to part 1 is phenomenal. Part 2 has one of the best jojos. Part 3 is a great journey and villain of the week format (along with having the best fight in the entire series). Part 4 is some of the best slice of life I’ve ever read??? Part 5 is basically an anime of the godfather and it’s brilliant. Part 6 is a jailbreak movie, with one of the best endings to anything ever. Part 7 is out of nowhere a literary masterpiece, unironically one of the greatest works of art I’ve ever read (it’s the second highest rated manga of all time for a reason). Part 8 is the pinnacle of Araki as a writer, storyteller, and artist, with a great coming of age (I guess lmao) story. And part 9 is thrilling heists with (imo) the best jojo in the series. The worst part is really fucking good, and the best part is one of the greatest pieces of fiction ever written. I truly cannot recommend it enough. It’s not everyone’s thing - the title is NOT lying, it is weird, at times nonsensical, but never uninteresting. Give it a shot, at least the first 3 parts, they’re not long and if you’re not interested by then you’re not human I think (/j). Once you get to 4 and onwards they keep getting longer, and while they do keep getting better and better, if you’re not into the vibe and stands then you don’t want to read 800 ish chapters more. Oh yeah it is long tbf, the first 3 parts aren’t that long, the next 3 parts are decently sized, then the next 2 alone are longer than a lot of the other manga I’ve recommended lmao. But that’s kinda what happens when you release a manga without any major hiatuses for 30+ years. He only started releasing it monthly in about 2008, so it would be way longer lmao. But the monthly releases are worth it, it instantly gets wayyyyyyy better. You’ll notice it in steel ball run (part 7). And once you’re finished you’ll be able to wait with me for part 9, which has been FANTASTIC so far, and I’m really excited to see more.

The only problem is: how do you read it? Answer: I don’t know. Probably mangadex? Don’t read the official translations, they change almost every name in the series due to copyright (every stand and a lot of characters are named after songs and bands) and it a.) works way less and b.) will make communicating with other jojo fans really difficult. I read the first 8 parts using Jojo’s coloured adventure (though I don’t recommend the coloured manga, the black and white is much better), which was an all in one place fan translation, but I don’t think it exists anymore. I recommend researching which translations are the best and then reading them on mangadex. The thing about it is that the translations I read are only for the newly released chapters I’m pretty sure, so giving you their names wouldn’t help at all. I’ve read a few chapters of phantom blood on mangadex and like… it’s alright. The phrasing is a bit clunky, but overall it’s good.

Some last things: the early parts are a bit sexist at times, the women are still really well written like erina, Lisa Lisa, and suzi q, but the first 3 parts have the odd “beaten by a mere woman!!?” And stuff. But even then there’s a lot of subversions of sexism, like Lisa Lisa being really fucking strong (and even then Araki regrets having not written her as more of a main character). But once you get past part 3 it basically stops. Araki is really progressive with his writing, he wanted part 5 to have a female jojo, but his editors didn’t let him, but once part 6 came around he put his foot down and made half of the cast women (and even then he still was forced to change someone to a man). I’m pretty sure he even said the quote “the fact that readers don’t want the jojo to be a woman is exactly why she needs to be a woman” or something similar. Part 8’s best written character is a woman, and in part 9 we’ve got a weird genderqueer thing (I love dragona but it’s really hard to say whether they’re trans or not lmao. Imo they are, but obviously you shouldn’t assume. At the very least they aren’t out yet. Tho they take hrt. Lmao). Basically what I’m saying is it gets a lot better.

Once you’ve caught up I really recommend the anime! The first 3 parts are a downgrade imo (especially part 3, yikes they completely massacred it. The beginning is great and the last fight is phenomenally done though), but part 4 is an upgrade, especially since they had the hindsight of the villain (Araki originally wanted 3 to be the end, so part 4 didn’t really have a plan for the first half of its story) and could sprinkle him throughout. I haven’t watched 5 or 6 yet, but apparently 5 is fantastic and 6 is really good. But I’d definitely recommend reading it first, and then watching it once you’re obsessed.

If anything you should read the first 6 parts as homework for steel ball run. I love the first 6 parts to death, but 7,8, and 9 are so so so good, and steel ball run is, like, a classic manga. It’s the fucking great gatsby of manga. Or maybe to kill a mockingbird? Idk.

Anyway I’m sorry this is long I really really really like Jojo. Like I said, it’s my favourite manga of all time, and one of my favourite media franchises in general. I could gush about it for hours (and I guess I just did whoops lmao).

Also if you read it you’ll get the jojo references (important)

[cas-backwards-tie]

is hog discontinued ?

Not at all! Nope 💕 the newest chapter I just posted maybe two weeks ago now?

I just have been struggling at lot this year, tbh. Like my whole life got upended in February (sadly my birthday month too 😭🙈) and since then I have found out I have more chronic illnesses than I’d thought. My health has been declining since then 😅 and finally I got to see a doctor in July who scheduled a lot of tests… etc etc. I have another appointment in about two weeks to find out all the results but based off our primary discussion I’m pretty sure what they’re going to tell me I have.

Long story short if you don’t wanna read all that- I’ve been struggling with chronic illnesses that I’m only just learning how to deal with/fix/remedy, and while I’m not out of the situation causing my illness, I’m hopeful I will be soon! 🙏🏻💖🫂 so please stay with me and be patient.

I have (approximately) three more chapters of HOG and then I also have a spin-off / continuation series that’ll be a ‘part two’ if you’re interested in that! 🥰🙌🏻 but tbh almost all the rest of the chapters have tidbits written here and there, but I’m working on adding the rest and then editing so it’ll be great 💕

Hope this helps shed some light and answers your question! Thank you for asking, Anon 🫂

Read Heiress of Gotham’s Newest Chapter Here

[wiispywitch]

" A Terror-Stricken Doe "

Fandom: Attack on Titan

Summary: It's the first day for the new recruits of the 104th Cadet Corps, among the members being siblings Nathanael and Taylor Schuyler. The siblings already have their hearts set for the Military Police, however Taylor begins to wonder whether she truly knows if she can handle what will be the next three years of hellish training. However, she runs into a familiar face she didn't expect to see again.

Word Count: 4,501

Characters: Keith Shadis, OCs {Tay Schuyler, Nathanael Schuyler, Mel Oglethorpe, Sam Dossam}, Eren Yeager, Mikasa Ackerman

Warnings: Depictions of a panic attack, emetophobia/vomit warning, heavily implied OC x canon interaction, major changes in canon

Divider cred: kimjiho1

Author's note: I split this into two-parts otherwise this post would be too long, and that will be posted very soon! Thank you for reading my fic, I'm not really the best writer but I hope that you enjoy it🖤 Edit: I rewrote Mel's scene where she has more interations in the story (she'll give Shadis hell later😚), and I feel like the rewrite is much better. Sorry for any confusion!~

Next chapter~♡

848.

The brutal sun’s intense heat was beating down over the newly recruited cadets of the 104th Cadet Corps. Led by the strict Instructor Keith Shadis, he was determined to whip these children between the ages of twelve to fourteen into shape and turn them into titan-killing machines and take back the land that was taken from them just three years ago when the Colossal first showed itself. The fear remained that the Colossal would return someday, so everyone was doing whatever it took to prepare for when and if the next titan attack would come. Some had made the choice to pursue a career in the military, a more promising idea if it meant they wouldn’t have to work in the fields, and others were there because their families had sent them away to fight the war against the titans. It was an uneasy time, yet many of the new recruits felt a sense of strength and purpose.

There were those who were there that day to see Wall Maria fall under attack that were now wishing to seek out revenge against the titans within the Scout Regiment, then there were others who were interested in the other branches in hopes to give themselves a better life, those options being between the Military Police Branch and the Garrison Branch. The rest that wouldn’t make it through even the first week would be sent out to work in the fields and help provide food for the remaining population; if it meant not having to face the titans up close, it seemed like the better choice.

Amongst the new recruits, standing tall with her hands behind her back facing the sun, stood a young baker from Windsor Village, a small village just on the outskirts of Wall Rose. Any breeze against her newly short hair sent a very slight shutter down her spine despite the intense heat. She just reached the age of thirteen, and she felt a mixture of pride to be standing alongside the newest generation of soldiers that were ready to dedicate their hearts, and yet she felt paralyzed with fear when she realized how real this was starting to become. 

Because of the incident with that strange girl choosing now of all times to eat a steamed potato, Shadis was a lot more irritable and the tension between the cadets waiting for him to scream in their face for an introduction was very high. At this point, she began to mentally prepare herself on what she would say when Shadis asked her name and why she was there.

“My name is Taylor Schuyler, sir! I’m from Windsor Village, and I am here to join the Military Police and dedicate my heart to my community and the king!”

And do not forget to salute with the right hand, she thought repeatedly. The right hand. The right hand. 

“You there! State your name, Cadet!” Shadis shouted. How he hasn’t lost his voice from shouting for this long was a miracle.

“Nathanael Schuyler from Windsor Village, sir!” replied the light-brown-haired boy. At fourteen, he had already begun to look a little older and had almost grown a bit of facial hair on his chin. He stood tall before the instructor, almost just as tall as him.

Shadis seemed to pause for a brief second, and that made Nathanael’s heart skip a second, but he continued as though nothing happened. “Schuyler?! I never thought I would hear that name again! Have you come to follow your father’s footsteps to slaughter the titans?!”

Shadis noticed Nathanael’s fist clenched at the mention of his father, but he kept his composure as he replied loudly, “Actually, I have my heart set for the Military Police, sir! My goal is to give my family a better life whilst I dedicate my heart to serving my great community and the king!”

“Good God, Schuyler, you seem to be quite the nobleman!” There was a hint of sarcasm in Shadis’s response as his tone and face remained unchanged. “Do you really believe the interior would be so generous to allow a spineless maggot like yourself in just because you want to play nice?!”

“That’s what I’m hoping for, sir! I’ll do whatever it takes to get into the interior even if it kills me!”

“Then that shouldn’t be much of a problem!” Keith Shadis turned to approach the next cadet, but he stopped for a moment, and he lowered his voice as he looked at Nathanael. He said in a more quiet voice but sternly said, “Don't expect me to go easy on you because of your reputation around her, Schuyler.” 

Taylor’s eyes shifted over just as Shadis, now back to shouting at another cadet. He wasn’t standing next to her, so it was hard to tell exactly what Nathanael was thinking when Shadis said that. Now shouting at the next cadet, a boy named Sam Dossam, Taylor felt uneasy realizing how much closer he was getting. Her eyes began to wander to the other row of cadets. Some she could see by the looks on their face they made up their mind that they wouldn't stay long, and others she could tell that they would be staying to train.

She just hoped she could prove herself just as much as everyone else here.

As she observed her surroundings and took in what would be her home for the next three years, her eyes had caught sight of a familiar face she never thought she would see again. She was so deep in thought she had forgotten that Shadis passed by this cadet and didn't ask for his name, because he already knew from the look on his face why he was here.

A boy close to Tay’s age stood firmly with his hands behind his back, his eyebrows furrowed into a permanent scowl. She remembered him because there was something in his eyes that she was fascinated with: Breathtaking, yet filled with rage.

The memories of the day she had met him and his friends immediately came flooding back. With everything happening all at once—from her mother struggling to keep the bakery afloat, having to raise four children on her own, and struggling food on the table so her children wouldn’t have to go to bed hungry—Tay’s mind had been so occupied that she hadn’t thought of that boy, Eren Yeager, in quite some time. The last time she saw him was that night she caught him trying to steal food when she was out on her first bread-run alone through the town. He was so skinny and his cheeks were sunken in as though he hadn’t eaten in days, but he wasn’t taking the food for himself; rather, he was only worried about bringing food for his two friends. She could’ve easily alerted the Military Police to have him arrested, but instead she chose to do something Eren didn’t see coming: She just gave him the basket.

Tay wondered if he remembered that day. Based on the glance he gave in her direction, he probably did. 

“EYES FRONT, CADET!”

Taylor suddenly gasped as she quickly focused her eyes forward to be face to face with the piercing copper eyes of Keith Shadis. At that moment, Taylor froze up like a deer who was just spotted by the hunter. She felt the urge to flee, but she forced herself to speak, forgetting to salute. “Ta-Taylor Schuyler from Wind—”

“SPEAK UP, CADET! I CAN'T HEAR A DAMNED WORD YOU'RE SAYING!”

Taylor shook when Keith Shadis shouted in her face. She was so afraid, but she didn’t want him to see her fear. She puffed out her chest, and saluted with her right fist slammed against her chest. “MY NAME IS TAYLOR SCHUYLER FROM WINDSOR VILLAGE, SIR!” she shouted. 

“Another Schuyler, I see?! Did you come here to waste my precious time standing around daydreaming or do you have a good reason to be standing here?!”

“I’M HERE TO GET STRONGER SO I CAN JOIN THE MILITARY POLICE!...SIR!”

“The Military Police?!” Shadis said loudly. “You have quite the ambition for a soldier who can't even pay attention for more than a second! Do you really believe someone so small and meek like you has what it takes to join the MPs?!”

Taylor felt a jolt of anxiety in her chest. Her hand was beginning to shake, which she tried her hardest not to let Shadis take notice. (Unfortunately for her, he did in fact notice.)

“I-I am determined to do whatever it takes to earn my place and dedicate my heart, sir!” she stammered.

“Well, answer me this, Schuyler.”

Taylor’s heart began to race much quicker and the knot in her stomach got worse. She tried to keep her composure the best she could as Shadis got close in her face, so close that she could practically smell his breath. She so badly wanted to look away from those daggers that were his eyes, but she knew if he did Shadis would bite her head off, so she was forced to stare look into those eyes despite her discomfort.

“I can see right through you that you won't even last till the end of today before you throw in the towel and quit, so let me ask you this again, Schuyler, do you believe that you can really become an MP if you can't handle the pressure?”

Shadis could see Taylor was trembling and her eyes looking glossy. She was fighting hard to find a response whilst also holding back tears. She had the same forest green eyes as his comrade Dawson Schuyler, one of the greatest captains Shadis had the honor of fighting alongside. A bit of a nitwit who talked about his family too much, sure, but a hell of a fighter. The last people Shadis expected to see here were both of Dawson’s oldest kids. With that in mind, he was determined to push them hard, especially his daughter.

“I-I…I want to try—”

“So that’s it? You think you can get into the interior because you want to? Here’s a reality check for you, Schuyler, the interior isn’t going to want a bellyaching crybaby like yourself just because you want to. You can’t handle that fact, you’re better off getting out of my face and not wasting my time.”

Taylor was left petrified after Shadis had finally gotten out of her face and made his way down the row to the next cadet. She stifled holding back tears, not wanting to show the other cadets that she was surrounded by that she was a weakingly like Shadis had said. But in her head, it suddenly crossed her mind that him screaming in her face wouldn’t be the worst of it—from here on, it would get much worse, and if she couldn’t handle even him screaming at her, what good would she be for the Military Police?

Eren Yeager had briefly caught a glimpse of her. He remembered her all too well, the daughter of the baker from that village they stayed in when they were evacuated. He had thought that night in the rain would’ve been the last time he ever saw her instead of a place like this, shaking like a leaf as her face reddened from fighting the urge to break down crying. She may have the passion, but there was no chance she would even last a week in a place like this. Even he could see that.

~

By the time the cadets were dismissed and evening was beginning to fall, Nathanael, changed out of his uniform and into his normal clothing, had walked outside his cabin to find his little sister and their friends that had come along with them into the military. He was hoping Taylor would be in higher spirits after their little introduction with Shadis, but Nathanael was determined to show him that he would work hard to prove he had what it took to get into the interior. And he would gladly rub it in his face when he made the top ten.

Outside the mess hall, he spotted his best friends—Sam Dossam and Melody Oglethorpe, his best friends from early childhood that he had shared dreams of joining the Scout Regiment with many years ago—times had changed ever since Nathanael had since given up on the scouts. Sam was more interested in the Garrison Brigade and had no interest in taking part with the Military Police or, understandably, the Scout Regiment. Mel, on the other hand, was the only one who was still interested in joining the scouts, and her reasoning was because she wanted a chance to see the world and have a grand adventure before she died. 

Sam and Melody were sitting on the steps of the mess hall as several other cadets passed by, also changed out of their uniforms and into their normal clothes, as Nathanael approached them as he whistled his favorite tune. 

“Well, that went well,” he said, leaning against the wooden stairwell.

“As well as it could’ve been,” Sam said, sighing as he sat down next to Mel.  “I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life.”

“He wasn’t so bad,” Mel said. “Besides, it’s the first day. He’s only trying to scare us into soldiers.”

“Well Shadis is gonna learn fast that we can be quite a handful,” Nathanael chuckled, gently nudging his fist on Sam’s shoulder. “Especially you, Mel.” He pointed at the redhead.

Mel smirked as she shrugged.

Nathanael happened to glance over, looking around to see where in the world his sister was and if she was coming to join them. Just as he noticed the hill, he spotted a couple of wagons going up the hill, some of which carrying a few people he could’ve sworn he saw earlier that day.

“Hey, what’s that?” he asked.

“Dropouts,” Sam answered.

Nathanael was surprised to see two wagons passed by. He had also seen a couple more, so he had to assume there were more dropouts that were either returning back to the comfort of their homes or being sent off to work in the fields.

Then a thought crossed his mind. He hadn’t seen Taylor since they were dismissed. As soon as introductions were over, she had just vanished out of nowhere.

“You guys seen Tay around?” Nathanael asked, uncertain.

Sam and Mel both looked at each other, then back at him with their heads shaking.

“Not since earlier today, no,” Sam replied.

“I haven’t seen her,” Mel added.

That answer didn’t sit right with Nathanael as he looked back at the wagons. He didn’t think she would up and leave without saying anything. But he remembered that look on her face. She probably wanted to run away and hide, much like she always did when she was scared. This was exactly what he was afraid of, her getting her hopes so high only to be let down.

“I don’t think she’s on one of those wagons, if that’s what you’re so afraid of,” Mel said.

Nathanael tensed up. Mel was always so good at reading people. Sometimes it was scary how accurate she was, and she wasn’t entirely wrong in this case.

“Just give her some space for a minute. She’ll show up soon. After today, I think she just needs to let out what she’s feeling.”

Nathanael took a sigh of relief, feeling a mixture of relief at knowing his sister didn’t leave without as much as a goodbye, and dread knowing of what was to come with the harsh training she would have to endure.

“You know, I hate to say it, but maybe Sarge is right,” Sam said.

Mel turned her head towards him, her eyebrow raised “About?” 

“About Tay not being able to handle the pressure.” Sam felt Mel’s harsh gaze hit him like a dagger. Mel was very protective over Taylor, almost as much as Nathanael was. She was sweet, sure, but she was also the type of person who would bawl over the sight of a dead squirrel in the forest.

“I agree,” Nathanael said, much to Mel’s surprise. “That's what I've been worried about since she came along.” He crossed his arms as he paced around.  “I mean, we’ve talked about this day for years, but we were just kids, you know? She hates being yelled at and isn't the best fighter. I mean, thank God she’s not joining the scouts anymore—no offense, Melody”—He noticed Mel put her hands on her hips—“but still…I dont think I can see Tay lasting the first year. I just don't want to see her disappointed.”

Mel sighed heavily as she shook her head. “You guys really underestimate her,” she muttered. “She's not some fragile little girl who needs to be protected all the time.”

“Yes, but you know better than us that Tay is too soft for her own good,” Nathanael told her. “Sorry, if that's harsh, but it's the truth.”

“That’s not your damn decision.” Mel stood up, standing tall to where she was close to Nathanael’s face. Now Nathanael felt a bit uneasy, knowing how easily angered Mel could be. “She’s the one who signed up, so she gets to decide whether or not she can do it, regardless of what you guys or Shadis say. Now leave her alone, she’ll talk when she’s ready.” She turned her back and made her way up the stairs. Nathanael opened his mouth to say something, but Sam had immediately held his arm out and shook his head. The big blond brute watching the sunset glanced at Mel, and hearing what she had to say had caught his attention.

Nathanael sighed, sitting down on the steps next to his friend. “I didn’t mean to make her mad.”

“Well, Mel is protective of her,” Sam stated. “You think she can make it the first week?”

“I would be surprised if she made it past the altitude test.” Nathanael looked over at the wagons, feeling torn on what exactly he wanted for his sister. Nathanael wanted to believe Mel was right, but something in his heart still told him that Taylor would break so easily under the pressure. As young kids, Nathanael and Taylor always had big dreams of joining the Scout Regiment together and fighting the titans alongside each other and seeing the world. But those were just childish dreams. Now that this day was here, Nathanael thought differently.

Behind the girls’ cabin, Taylor, still in her uniform, held her arm against the wall as she spat bile onto the ground, her other arm clutching onto her stomach. She wanted so badly to stop the feeling in her stomach, but she couldn’t stop herself from gagging until, finally, it was all out of her stomach. Now she was left feeling weak with tears streaming down her face, and turned to have her back up against the wall as she slid down to sit to calm herself after an episode. Her hand was placed over her fast-beating heart as she was trying so hard to calm her intense breathing. Her eyes stung from the tears that fell down from her cheeks and her legs felt so weak and wobbly, and now she could feel her head starting to ache from the crying. Looking at herself now, Taylor began to wonder why she had even come here in the first place. These were big dreams all she and Nathanael talked about, but now it’s all changed and she only agreed with the Military Police so they can give their family and the twins a better life. Deep down, Taylor didn’t care for the Military Police. Why was she here? Was this even worth it? 

“You can't let him tear you down so easily. It'll only show him you're weak like he said.”

Taylor gasped as she looked up, and she met the neutral gaze of the gray eyes belonging to the beautiful black-haired girl. She tried to catch her breath and made herself stand up, despite her wobbly legs.

“If you want a chance to get into the Military Police, it's not going to be easy, and you crumbling so easily as you are now is only going to prove him right. Is that what you want?”

Tay quickly shook her head. “No!” she said. “As much as I want to, I don't want to just give up and leave so soon…I…I don’t want to just be seen as weak. I want to get stronger so I can help support my family, that…that’s the only reason why I want to join the Military Police so badly…I can’t let them down…I don’t want that.”

“Then you're going to have to learn to get thicker skin if you want any chance of succeeding.”

Tay’s face turned red as her bluntness. “What, you don't think I can do it?” she muttered.

“To be truthful, I don't think so.”

Tay felt a bit hurt by that and her face morphed into a scowl.

“But I can see in your eyes that you're determined to keep going. And I could be wrong. You may just exceed my expectations. But if you leave, then I guess it's just a waste.” She turned around. “I can't decide that for you. You can either get back up and get stronger, or you can walk away without having accomplished anything. That's up to you.”

Taylor glanced over at the cliff side where the wagon carrying the drop-outs had just finished loading up. There was one final call for anyone else who would be returning home to their families or would be sent off to work in the fields to provide more food. Taylor remembered the words her mother had told her. 

“If it ever gets too much to handle, you can always come back home.”

That offer began to sound more and more tempting to take, to come back home in the protective arms of her mother, the sweet aroma of the bakery giving her a sense of comfort. But deep down, Taylor knew that she wouldn’t be happy with herself if she just gave up so easily.

“I'm not quitting.”

The black-haired girl stopped walking and glanced over at her.

Taylor wiped the tears off her cheeks and straightened herself up. “I don't want to just give up on the first day. I want to keep going and prove to Shadis that I can get stronger and he can’t break me so easily. I’ll…I’ll show that bastard what I’m capable of.” Taylor exhaled, that being the first time she ever uttered a curse word.

She turned towards her, and it was a little hard to tell from the shadow of the cabin, but from the look on her face she seemed to be impressed with what she’s hearing.

“Thanks for telling me what I needed to hear, Mikasa,” Taylor said.

Mikasa closed her eyes and sighed. “I'm surprised you remember me.”

Taylor smiled. “How could I forget? I've thought about you guys often. I was hoping you and Eren…” Tay stopped herself from saying what she was about to say. She shook her head and cleared her throat. “You got tall.”

“So did you,” Mikasa said, “...sorta.”

Taylor chuckled. “Why are you here anyway? I mean…I didn't expect to run into you and Eren again after—...Oh, right.” 

Taylor couldn’t help but smile as she remembered the first day she visited Shinganshina. It was just three months before Shinganshina fell under titan attack. As children, Eren, Mikasa, and Armin showed her around the town; she had clicked more with Mikasa and preferred to stick with her since the only girl friend she knew was Mel, Armin was definitely more talkative and had a lot to share in a very cool book that she swore to keep secret but Eren mostly kept to himself and seemed to be a grumpy little kid until the bell tolled that alerted them the scouts were coming through. Eren eagerly wanted to see them.  Upon seeing those battered soldiers again, Tay was reminded of that day her family received the news that her father was killed on duty. They didn’t even have a body to recover. Not wanting to be reminded, she quickly ran away until the scouts had passed by. Tay remembered Eren feeling guilty for reminding her and him apologizing to her, but she was able to tell him about her father and all the good he did and how much of an admirable captain he was. That's how Tay found out about Eren's desire to join the scouts.

Tay sighed. “Nice to see he hasn't changed…” She frowned and looked at Mikasa. “Does that mean…you too?”

“Yes,” Mikasa stated, nodding. “I've already decided that I'm joining the scouts.”

“Does he know?”

“Not yet, but he should figure as much. Wherever he goes, I'll go with him.”

Tay sighed, smiling. “You guys really are stuck together like glue. It's nice to see you guys have each other, really.” She grabbed her wrist, still feeling clammy. “Would you be opposed to me sitting at the table with you and the boys, maybe do a bit of catching up? I’d feel weird just sticking around with my brother.”

“I don’t see why not.”

Taylor smiled. “G-great! I, uh…just gotta get changed. I feel sweaty. I’ll meet you in the mess hall.” As she walked, she about walked into the barrel that was standing behind her but managed to catch herself. She looked at Mikasa, flustered. “I…I’m just gonna go.”

“Wait,” Mikasa said. “There’s one more thing. I wanted to thank you for what you did for us.”

Taylor looked back at her. “I couldn’t just let you guys go hungry.”

“You saved us by doing that. I don’t know what I would have done had Armin and Eren starved to death. But you helped us.”

Taylor smiled. “It’s the least I could do. Besides, your dad saved my brother. I owe it to you guys.”

She couldn’t tell, but she thought she saw Mikasa smile.

Feeling much better about herself, Taylor made her way back into the cabin to change out of her uniform and into her casual clothes: A shirt with poofy long sleeves (she adored big sleeves), a brown skirt, and a nice black corset. Looking at the mirror, Taylor began debating on wearing pants more often since it may be easier to change out of. Before leaving, she reached into her satchel and took out her most prized possession: Her gold locket carved with the Wings of Freedom.

She sighed, holding her locket close to her lips. “I made it through the first day, Daddy,” she whispered. “I’m not gonna give up. I’ll keep fighting…”

[empressofthesunwriter]

Kill La Hero: 20

In the lottery of Quirk’s Michi got on really special and annoying one. A living, sarcastic ribbon named Ares, who puts her into superpowered revealing outfits. But this won't stop the girl from fulfilling her dream of being a hero! Just watch her!

(But not too closely please!)

MHA MEETS KILL LA KILL!

Hello, my loves!

I finally watched the Movie Two Heroes and I loved it :D

So the movies will be added to the fanfic too, I have Two Heroes and the newest on DVD I just need Heroe Rising I think?

So yeah, I hope you like my decisions.

Also, I already draw Michi in her clothes for Two Heroes take a look at Deviantart or Wattpad ^^

Also, I admin this is probably my weakest chapter but Michi and Ares are so powerful it didn’t make sense to make a long fight with Stain and I wanted this chapter out as soon as possible.

Maybe one day I will rewrite it.

Anyway!

Now on with the story!

Chapter 20: Hero Killer

Sooner than the young heroes-to-be know the day of the workplace field training arrives. 

Aizawa-Sensei is at the station to escort them to their workplaces safely.

All are packed for a week and have even their hero customs with them.

"You all have your costumes, right? Remember, you aren't allowed to wear them in public.", reminded Aizawa-Sensei. "Don't drop them or anything."

"Yessir!"

"Speak clearly! It's "yes, sir," Ashido."

"Yes, sir..."

"Make sure you mind your manners with the heroes at your internships! Off with you, now."

"Yes, sir!", chorsed the whole class.

Some already got moving, while others had things to clear before they could go.

Izuku, Michi and Ochaco raced after Tenya, who was on the way to the terminal to Hosho.

"Tenya!", called Izuku. "If you ever feel hopeless, make sure you let us know."

"You can tell us anything.", added Michi. "This is a judgement-free zone."

Ochaco nodded in agreement.

"We're friends, right?", said Izuku.

During the whole conversation, Tenya didn't even turn around to face them, but when he answered with a soft yeah he finally looked at them.

The bad feeling in Michi's stomach just got worse.

The look in Tenya's eyes was so strange!

Their friend left them and the three looked at each other lost.

"Well, I have to join Shoto-San.", signed Michi. She hugged first Ochaco, then Izuku. "Have an awesome time at your internships."

"You to Michi-Chan!"

"Stay in contact, Michi-Kun."

"Of course, I will send you text messages!"

With a last wave, she joined Shoto, who had waited a bit further away from them.

"Ready to go Michela-San?", asked Shoto.

She nodded.

"Let's go Shoto-San."

/*/

Michi read a book about Greek Mythologies and Shoto was staring out the window of the train.

Soon they would reach their internship place.

The agency of the number two hero Endeavour, also known as Shoto piece of human dumpster fire father.

When Michi saw a few days ago how Endeavour offered her an internship, she was conflicted.

She didn't want to do anything with such a vile human being, however, he was the Number Two!

The second strongest hero and also the one with the most solved case.

She and Ares would be stupid if they didn't learn from him.

Even if he was a human dumpster fire!

At least Shoto was with them.

They would have each other back and Michi hoped they could become friends.

Already there was a lot of respect on both sides.

"Michela-San?"

"Yes, Shoto-San?"

"Can I ask why you chose my father's agency?"

Michi closed her book and said drily: "Your father is a human dumpster fire, but he IS the number two hero, getting nominated by him is incredible, I think I can learn from him a lot."

Something like an amused smile formed on Shoto lips.

Huh, he was actually quite handsome.

He gave her Zuko from Avatar the Last Airbender Vibes. When she was little she had a huge crush on Zuko, before she met Izuku and was ruined for everyone else.

Anyway, Shoto agreed with her and told her he chose his father for the same reasons.

Both silently agreed to be subtle little shits to Endeavor.

He deserved it!

Soon their train arrived at his destinated and they made their way over to Endeavour Agency.

The Number Two Hero waited for them in his office and there was a hungry in his eyes.

He probably thought Shoto would finally bend to his will.

Ha, good luck with that, dumpster fire!

"Get ready, you two. We're going out."

What already?

"Where? To do what?", wondered Shoto.

"If this incident follows precedent, then the hero killer will appear in Hosu City again. We will go to Hosu for a time on a business trip and work there.", explained Shoto's father, before he called his sidekicks to contact Hosu City.

Surprised Shoto and Michi shared a look.

Then he shrugged his shoulder and she nodded.

They did as Endeavour told them.

/*/

For the first one and a half days, nothing happened in Hosu City.

It was calm.

To calm for Michi's taste.

When they were on patrol she also looked out for Tenya, but she didn't even see a glimpse of her friend.

Maybe she worried so much, yet the feeling that something big was about to happen, didn't leave her.

The night of the second day, chaos broke out in Hosu City.

Something was attacking the city!

Shoto and Michi followed after Endeavour, as their phones told them they got a message.

It was from Izuku!

A map with his coordinates!

The two young hero-to-be started to race towards the coordinates, ignoring Endecover's shouts.

At least Shoto told them to send Pro-Hero to the address.

When Shoto and Michi finally reach the alleyway Izuku sent the coordinates to, their hearts stop for a second.

Izuku, Tenya and a Pro-Hero on the ground, bleeding and a guy with a Katana raising it to kill Tenya!

This must be Stain, the Hero-Killer.

Not wasting time Shoto sends his flames and ice and Michi her Thread Storm.

It gets Stain away from Tenya, but he can dodge their attacks.

"One after another...", growls Stain. "There are a lot of people

getting in my way today."

"Midoriya. You need to give more details in times like this.", says Shoto.

Michi gets her Scissor Blade ready, she got permission to use it before she began the internship, and adds: "You made us late, Izu-Chan!"

"T-Todoroki, M-Michi you too?", groaned Tenya painfully.

"Why are you guys here...?", wonder Izuku. Shouldn't they be at Endeaover Ageny? "And Todoroki you are using your left side...!"

"Izu-Chan really? You sent us a random location, this is not you, so it meant you were in trouble. So Shoto-San and I came as fast as we could to help. Don't worry the Pro's will be here soon.", explained Michi.

Shoto uses his ice to lift up the injured and slide them closer and away from Stain. Both promise to protect the other and not let them get killed by Stain.

Izuku warns them about Stain's quirk, they can't get cut or they will be immobilized like them, while Michi runs up to Stain.

"Shoto-San give me cover me!"

"On it, Michela-San!"

Michi attacks with her Scissors Blade and Stain contours with his Katana.

They engage in a fast sword fight, as Shoto shoots his ice and fire before Stain can even cut Michi.

This girl...she is good with her weird sword and with the boy backing her up...this could be interesting.

"Why are you three...Why...Please, stop!", cries Tenya. "I've inherited my brother's name. I have to do it...That guy's mine...!"

Shoto answers him since Michi is too busy sword-fighting with Stain. "You inherited it? That's strange. The Ingenium I saw before didn't have that face, though. You've got a lot going on behind the scenes in your family, too, huh?"

Meanwhile, Stain and Michi clash their sword against each other, trying to overwhelm the other.

"You are good, girl, I give you that!", tells Stain. "But not as good as me!"

Fast he jumps away and throws a knife at Michi.

She just stands coldly there as the knives reach her...and bounce off of her!

"What?! How is this possible!"

"My suit may look flimsy but it's harder than any known substance!", smirks Michi.

This shocks Stain so Michi takes the opportunity.

"Ares let's do it!"

"On it Michi!"

Together they shout: "Sciccor Blade, Decaption Mode!"

The blade gets bigger and Michi runs up to Stain.

Like Mei had told her, all his clothes get cut away and with it, even all his weapons fall on the floor.

Naked Stain twirls in the air, before he lands hard on the ground knocked out.

"So much for the Hero-Killer.", huffs Michi and returns her Scissor Blade to normal.

"Who the heck is this girl, she beat him in what a minute?!", shouts the Pro-Hero.

"Only Class 1A strongest Quirk User and winner of the Sports Festival.", explains Shoto drly.

Michi binds Stain with her threads before she helps Izuku up.

"Izu-Chan all good?"

"Yeah, thanks to you, Mei Scissor Blade is amazing!"

Shoto helps the Pro-Hero and Tenya up.

The Not-Couple listens to how Shoto tells Tenya he understands his resentment and hunger for revenge against STain, but it is not him.

Izuku and Michi agree and tell him they are sorry they hadn't been better friends for him, they should have known better.

Tenya just cries and admits he really lost sight of what it meant to be a true hero.

He would do better from now on.

In the distance, you could hear how people ran up to them.

/*/

In the end, and after for a short moment where one thought Izuku would get kidnapped by a Nomu, thanks to Michi's fast reflexes she saved him, the four teenagers were admitted to the hospital.

Yes, even Michi, they didn't care how she said she was not injured, she had to stay the night.

So all four shared a hospital room.

They all talked the whole night, barely sleeping.

It helped to talk.

Tenya seemed again to be his normal self.

He swore from now on to be a better hero.

Then they fell asleep as the sun slowly rose.

Since Michi was the least with injuries, she was about to be dismissed as the Police Chief wanted to talk to them

As it turned out they did something illegal apprehending the Hero-Killer without a license, but if they agreed to tell the public it was Endeavor who won over Stain, they had nothing to worry about.

Had they really a choice?

After this was out of the world, Michi hugged and kissed Izuku goodbye and even Tenya and Shoto got a hug.

The girl joined up with Endecoever to continue her internship.

She hoped the rest of it would be much calmer.

[bsdtakanenohana]

Takane No Hana │ 高値 の 花

Summary: (n.) someone or something one desires but is far away or unattainable; lit. "flower on a high peak” If you love long, drawn out stories and other people’s BSD OCs you’ve come to the right place.

Rating: T (will probably change in later chapters)

Relationships: Osamu Dazai & original female character, Chuuya Nakahara & original female character

Other AO3 Tags: Developing Friendships, Platonic Relationships, Friends to Lovers, Lovers to Enemies, Slow Burn, the romance is a lot later on when I say slow burn I mean slow burn, you get to find out which relationships develop which way(s), Pre-Fifteen Light Novel

AN: originally posted to my AO3 thedragonandthewolf, I’m also posting it here to reach a different audience.

Chapter Two

Shinitai No Ka? │ 死にたい の か？

“You want to die?”

WC: ~2.3k

“Again?” Oleander asked herself as she read through the newest volume of a shoujo manga. This MC had managed to fall into yet another love triangle. Twice was odd but believable. But three sets of love triangles with six different boys before the age of twenty-two? Preposterous. She set the book down under the desk and went back to translating documents for her job.

This was one reason her boss, Masato, had found Oleander valuable. YYRGK was trying to expand their business outside of Japan. Being a port city made this a somewhat simple task despite being a small group, and now that they were subcontracted with the Port Mafia, it only made things easier. The current Lingua Franca of the world was English, but the average Yokohaman criminal couldn’t speak it, and fewer still could read and write it. However, Oleander’s first language was English.

The papers were stacked higher than normal because she had been putting them off to read the manga. She rushed to translate the English documents into Japanese. A few of the workers came in to grab water from the fridge, laughing at some weird joke and complaining about some smugglers before walking right back out. They ignored her, like always, but she liked it that way. It was just another reason why she pretended to be a boy.

There were only two pages left to translate when Masato walked in. “Boy,” he addressed her. Nobody called her “Oleander” so she almost wanted to stop introducing herself with it. Maybe “Boy” could be her name.

“Yes, sir?”

Her job as translator was to be put aside in favor of becoming a messenger-boy again. It was time to deliver money to the smuggling organization the workers had just been making fun of and pick up a permit from the Port Mafia. It wasn’t until she was forced into this life that she learned how similar running a gang was to running a business. When she was a child, she imagined criminal organizations just being slightly more organized versions of what the average lone criminal did. She had no idea the underworld was, well, its own world.

A few minutes later Oleander was out on the busy streets of Yokohama. She hadn’t been used as a messenger since the first time she had gone to the Mafia headquarters two weeks ago. She wondered, if she had emotions would she be scared or excited to go back?

The day was clear with not a single cloud in the sky. The first stop was by the bay, so Oleander stood on a dock and admired the sparkling water. It looked cleaner than the bay of a big city had any right to look.

As she continued to walk along the waterfront she passed by a group of four shady looking men, probably not in any gang but just random thugs who happened to be grouped together, clustering around a fire in a metal bin and roasting meat over it. They didn’t ignore her like everyone else did.

“Hey you!” The tallest one called out.

Oleander turned to look at them. Two were already approaching.

It’s because of this briefcase I carry. It wasn’t hers but the boss’s. It was a lot nicer than everything else she owned and looked like it had valuables in it. And of course today was the day it actually did.

“What do you have there?” the same man asked. The other three were fanning out now. They were going to surround her.

In the blink of an eye she activated her special ability.

Starbound!

The plasma that was in their metal bin shot out towards her outstretched hand, burning one of the men in the process. He collapsed to the ground trying to put out his smoldering shirt and hair.

She would have to be careful to not burn her clothes. She had a cream-colored, flame retardant serape she normally wore over her clothes, but it was too humid to wear today. The flames were in both her hands now and growing in size and heat as her ability fed them.

Already another man was backing away, leaving her to deal with only two, including the tall man. She waited for a second, just to see if any of them would reveal an ability. Then she shot a fireball at the closest man, who dived into the blast. She had thrown it slightly to his right, knowing he would try to duck in the opposite direction from his acquaintances.

She didn’t look at him as she faced the other two and divided the fire into both hands once more. It wasn’t as hot, she didn’t want to feed it more than necessary. It would be better if there was more fire nearby. Once this was gone, she was out.

“Stay away,” she warned, holding her flaming hands out to each man, warding them off.

The shorter man looked to his two injured companions. “I doubt there’s anything in there worth getting this burnt over.” He told the tall man.

“Why else would he fight so hard to protect it?” the tall man asked.

Good point. She shot the remaining fire at him and took off running. The smugglers’ building was just a few dock’s down. If she reached their sight they would fight these men off to keep their payment safe. Nobody followed.

Unorganized, desperate, street thugs. She thought, now knowing she had correctly characterized them from the beginning. Exactly what she had thought all criminals were like before becoming one. She knew she was lucky that she hadn’t run into any real gangs. Or other Gifteds.

The Mafia’s five black towers looked even more ominous in the sunshine. One expects dreary days to be filled with dreary sights. The bright day contrasted sharply with those evil buildings. It was as if the very skyline of Yokohama was saying “here is a place so full of corruption, even the most wanted criminal group does not hide!”

Of course, the city did not celebrate crime. The constant work of the police, private agencies, and even the military was a testament to that. It was just an unfortunate reality that organized crime was so powerful here. A more unfortunate reality that this was because of Gifteds like her.

The lobby was busy but everyone ignored Oleander once again. This time it was the twentieth floor and she was visiting someone new. The elevator doors shut and jazz music began playing. She found it odd that somewhere in this Mafia, someone had been paid to sift through music for the elevators. She only made it to the fourth floor when the cab stopped. Someone was getting on.

The doors opened to reveal the bandaged boy she met last time. He looked exactly the same, only there was a more haunted air about him. When he recognized her, his face changed slightly to mirror hers. Expressionless.

“What a coincidence,” he said somewhat cheerily as he stepped in beside her. “Seeing you here again when there’s so many who work here that I’ve yet to see twice.”

“You weren’t there after my meeting even though I hadn’t been gone long.” Oleander saw no point in not cutting to the chase.

A wry smile appeared on his face before melting away. “I was called to other things.”

There was something amiss with this boy, she could sense it. He wasn’t a mafioso yet he hung around here, he was covered in bandages, he wasn’t like other teenagers her age. The human duty to protect flashed through her mind.

“Did someone here do that to you?” Oleander whispered while gesturing to his injuries. “I could get them to stop, if it isn’t someone high ranking.” Immediately she silently chided herself for offering that. Protecting others led to emotions and she didn’t need them trying to come back. Not yet.

The boy shot her a look that would have sent any girl with emotions running out the elevator as soon as it came to her stop. But he answered calmly, “I did it to myself.”

“Why?” was all she could say. What was one supposed to say to that? She wish she knew. Perhaps having emotions would help her in this case. Maybe then she could relate to him. But it’s not like people wanting to hurt themselves is a normal emotion.

She stayed in the elevator looking at the boy, waiting for him to answer.

Unknown to her, her lack of emotion made the situation better. She had asked why in a calm, non-judgemental voice with no worry or pity in it. This completely neutral, innocently curious question had shocked him silent.

“Because I was trying to kill myself.”

The door dinged giving a warning it was closing. It was darker again and the music paused as it changed songs. They stared at each other in the dim silence.

“But why?” she said again. Her dark eyebrows knitted together in confusion, not knowing what to think.

“Haven’t you reached your floor?” the boy questioned. His eyes were such a dark brown, if Oleander hadn’t been so close to him she would have thought them to be black.

She hit the button again. Never before had she met someone who was suicidal. Slowly she stepped out of the elevator but kept looking at him.

“I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m sorry.” She was not. She could not feel sorrow or regret. The wish to not insult others and cause them emotional pain was entirely different.

The doors began to close once more. She thought he was still upset with her and she would never see him again. It wasn’t a good thought. The past two years had been incredibly lonely.

But the boy quickly hopped out into the hallway with her. “You don’t sound sorry.” He was toying with her, he didn’t care if she was sorry or not.

“I don’t sound like any emotion when I speak, now, or for the near future.”

“And why is that?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Why would I tell you? You didn’t answer my question. And I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Dazai. Osamu Dazai.”

So he wanted to be addressed by his surname, like a lot of adults did when they wanted respect or to keep a relationship formal. “Nice to meet you. I have to get going now,” Oleander said and tried to be on her way. But the sullen boy only walked with her. “Weren’t you supposed to get off on a higher floor?”

Dazai said, “I’ll get back on once I see where you’re going.”

She stopped and looked at him. “What’s going on with you?”

He tilted his head to the side innocently. “What do you mean?”

“If you were trying to kill yourself, you clearly don’t care about your life. Yet you’re following me around, asking me questions. I’m a total stranger. You seem awfully curious for someone who doesn't care if they live to see tomorrow. And I still don’t know what you’re doing at the Port Mafia headquarters if you’re not in the mafia. You don’t make any sense.”

“It’s incredibly boring in the places I have to be,” was his somewhat whiney answer. As if he were a normal teenager talking about being bored of his classes or social life.

Oleander looked at him, her mind racing. Under more normal circumstances she would want to make a friend, it had been so long since she had experienced friendship.

“I have no time for this,” she started off again. “I have business to attend.” He was no longer walking with her as she went down the hallway.

“Can I at least know the name of the girl I’m talking to?” Dazai called.

Oleander stopped in her tracks. “I’m not a girl.” Nobody had questioned her before. In fact, she rarely ever had to say she was a boy, people automatically assumed by her clothes and hair.

“Yes, you are. But I understand why you’re disguising yourself.”

She debated on if she should turn to face him and keep arguing that she was a boy, or if she should just walk away and let him accept the truth. Before her indecision became awkward he said, “Maybe I’ll see you again,” and his footsteps grew quieter as he walked away.

[ginnsbaker]

So the comment section is no longer enough for me so I have to comment in this form but I hope you don’t mind. So first of all thank u for a new update. Even tho it started weeks ago, this updates remain as my highlights of the week 💕

When it comes to the newest chapter…well each time I think it can’t break me more, you are sure to prove me wrong. Wanda fucked up first and she fucked up bad so the way Reader treated her in the beginning brought me some kind of sick joy.

However the fact that Wanda, now at that point in the story is willing to go so far…that she is thinking that everything Reader did to her is something she deserves, something that will bring her at least some version of Reader back, something she has to endure because her mind says so…it makes me truly sick to my stomach.. I’m really looking forward to Wanda in therapy and I truly hope Reader finds out what she did so they can go straight to therapy too.

I said it before and I will say it again but you are an awesome, god tier writer and I’m thankful that you are willing to share this story with us. 💕

Of course I don't mind! I read every line, don't worry ;)

"It"Wanda fucked up first and she fucked up bad so the way Reader treated her in the beginning brought me some kind of sick joy." - I think a lot of you (and me included) was enjoying a form of "justice", not necessarily the suffering of someone. Because the world is so unfair, and IFISS showed reader being too soft on Wanda. And in ILGOSS she finally broke and experienced the extent of the effects that Wanda's cheating brought on her-- and for us who are following the story, that's not right. And I think us, realizing that is a good character development, no? :)

"I’m really looking forward to Wanda in therapy and I truly hope Reader finds out what she did so they can go straight to therapy too." This is mainly the reason I divided the story into three parts. I was planning like a 10-part story but it grew on its own, and I hope you guys stay til the end, cause I have seen it.

Btw, I don't know if you're a masochist like me (lol) or is actually looking forward to lighter chapters, but beginning of part two (chapters nine, ten, eleven) is going to be lighter, as we will build again towards another angsty peak. So yeah, sharing that with you so we can all be prepared :D

As always, I look forward to hearing your feedback, and thank you for sticking with this story for more than a month now :)Hope you see it to the end! Cheers!

[love-bokumono-fics]

Fresh Crops! May 15 - May 21, 2023

This week's newest stories and chapter updates for Harvest Moon and Story of Seasons on AO3

10,000 Hours - by Chibimiie; Complete, 1/1, 2.2k

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: F/M Fandom: Animal Parade Relationship: Angela/Luke; Characters: Angela the Farmer, Molly the Farmer, Luke the Carpenter, Owen Additional Tags: the chapter in which nothing really happens, you ever just start writing something and can't stop, that's filler babeyyy, luke is very much in love with angela and i love that for them Summary: A day in the life of Luke. :)

Not Seeking Parental Approval - by Bluebellbun; WIP, 2/3, 5.9k

Rating: General Audiences; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: F/M Fandoms: Friends of Mineral Town, Back To Nature Relationship: Gray/Mary the Librarian | Marie; Characters: Gray, Mary the Librarian | Marie, Saibara, Basil the Writer Additional Tags: three-shot, Headcanon, mary has braces, gray is tall, saibara is a sweetheart i swear, shoutout to my illiterate friends for beta reading this, eavesdropping basil Sumary: And still getting it in a discreet way.

Sugar and Spice - by Chibimiie; WIP, 56/?, 148k

Rating: Mature; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: F/M Fandoms: Animal Parade Relationships: Chase/Molly the Farmer, Angela/Luke; Characters: Molly | Hikari, Angela the Farmer, Chase, Luke, Kasey the Farmer Additional Tags: Slow Burn, oh god how do you tag fics, mentions of eating disorders, alternating povs, Friends to Lovers, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, bumped up the rating because i honestly should have a little bit ago, burn so slow it's honestly a simmer Summary: Wanting to get away from past hurts of the city, sisters Molly and Angela decide to respond to a flyer advertising an abandoned farm on the faraway island of Castanet. Leaving behind their closest friends and brother Kasey, the two take a chance and move to the tiny island hoping for a new chance at life.

The Heart of a Westown Cowboy - by Mya_Stone; WIP, 21/?, 29k

Rating: General Audiences; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: F/M Fandom: Trio of Towns Relationship: Female Farmer/Wayne; Characters: Frank, Ford, Carrie, Brad, Megan, Hector, Colin, Daryl | Darius, Marlena, Lynn, Wayne, Miranda Additional Tags: Slow Burn, Romance, Romantic Friendship, Guy Falls First, famiy drama, I Wrote This For Me But I'll Share It With You Summary: Wayne is Westown's perpetually single lady's man. He'd like to settle down but he just hasn't found The One and he's fairly certain he's met everyone in town. Then Melody moves in, taking a plot of her uncle's ranch to fulfill her dream of being a rancher. A college-educated business woman, Melody doesn't accept failure - especially not her own. As Wayne falls hard for her, she struggles to return his affections until she has what she came for - and when she continually comes up short at the cow competitions, she begins to wonder if Westown is really the place for her.