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residenthughes · 1 month

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coming home - connor dewar

pairing: connor dewar x fem! reader

word count: 11k

tags/warning: friends to lovers, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, slight angst?, mentions of alcohol/drinking, minor swearing

summary: your entire life has entailed having connor by your side, no matter where the universe carves your paths. back home for the summer leading up to your final year of university, there's much to ponder - even your feelings about your best friend.

notes: this is genuinely a labour of love, the longest fic i've written in a long time 😭 i wanted this to be short and sweet, but it's long and sweet and i don't know how to feel about that lmao. but (!!!) i am really proud/happy about how this has come together and i hope you all enjoy this fic just as much as i loved writing it 😇 this is mostly proofread, but it is 5 in the morning, so I'll return to this soon! (apologizes for any errors towards the end!) more dewey content shall be coming soon, hehe! much love! <333

(also! this is very much in celebration of dewey's first goal as a leaf, teehee! 😁💗⭐️)

Summer’s always your favourite time of the year. Tan lines, midnight drives, fireworks, the beach. So much sweetness is in the breezy summer air and you simply can’t get enough. You wouldn’t admit it, but your favourite part of the season is when one of your closest friends, Connor, comes up from his gruelling hockey season and returns to the slow and laid-back lifestyle of your small town. Having grown up next door neighbours the majority of your lives, you quickly became two peas in a pod, always together with laughter following closeby.

Your friendship is something you’ve always treasured, held in some reclusive and special part of your heart that only houses your fated connection. No matter how mundane your time together may be - Connor strumming his acoustic guitar and you reading as the citrus sunset dips into the horizon - it's all so memorable to you and nothing, as you’ve come to experience, can ever replace his place in your life. However, life is a constant cycle of change and that first dose came when you two were fourteen, too awkward for your own good and growing out of your bodies. Connor was selected to play in a high-level hockey league hours away from your hometown and as your fingertips buried themselves into his tear-soaked t-shirt, you swore nothing could compare to this pain. The absolute tear of your beating heart out of your raw chest that ached with every gasp. You were a mess, undeterred by your futile attempt to appear as nonchalant at your silly age, but the second Connor stood on your porch, luggage in hand and the sadest tinge in his sage eyes, you fell apart.

Despite the sheer anguish you experienced that crisp autumn day, you adjusted. Stayed in contact with your best friend and continued to build up your life in his absence. Completed all your teenage rites of passage - took some extracurriculars, went to prom (you wanted to ask Connor, but ultimately decided against it), graduated high school and started attending university in Calgary - nine hours away from home. So many things changed and some still stayed the same. Connor was still as hockey obsessed and through his diligent efforts, he’s achieved his dreams of playing in the NHL night after night. You were there for draft day and there for his first game, university be damned. As was Connor, in the stands during your high school graduation and any time you needed him, whether that was him sitting on the phone with you until four in the morning or meeting up with you halfway across two countries because he felt like it. There was always something so spectacular about you two, your stories detailed by destiny and hung amongst the stars. A divine creation that despite the odds, of paths that have taken you two elsewhere, always merged because that is simply how it’s meant to be.

And, so it is, your last summer before your final year and here you are, fingertips tapping against the wooden bar as your leg jerks in anticipation of a figure that will come through your hometown bar, Punch & Judy’s doors any minute now.

Your best friend, Charlotte, manages to interweave your antsy fingers in between hers, a nurturing smile across her smooth face. “He’ll get here, don’t worry.”

Your eyebrows quirk, your legs stopping all motion. “Who said anything about worrying?”

She rolls her eyes, unamused. “You know what I mean,”

Then, she goes on to untangle your fingers, leaning her crossed arms against the bar occupied by the usual mellow group of regulars, including your own bunch of friends. “Besides, you know him. Knowing you’re here, he’s tryna get here quicker than a New York minute.”

A funny feeling flips in the pits of your stomach, an immediate flush coating the apples of your cheeks as you clumsily grab at your cider bottle. Connor always poked fun at your inability to enjoy a cold one, resorting to fruity flavours of cider. “He’s a law-abiding citizen, he’ll wait for the greenlight even if it kills him.”

“If you say so,” Charlotte casts you a glance out of the corner of her eye, smugness tugging at the corners of her lips as she takes another swig of her beer. The bell signifying the main door opening sounds in the background. “Oh, look. Speak of the devil and he shall appear! Hey there, stranger!”

Suddenly, your attention is elsewhere, eyes pinned to the tall silhouette that struts through the doorway of the LED ridden bar, kind eyes and a kinder smile with his tousled hickory hair and hushed voice finding its way to your eardrums again after so long. It’s like coming home again, watching from afar as close friends fall into endless hugs, your reunion saved for last as you beam a closed mouthed smile, reproduced by your best friend who opens his arms for a hug that solely belongs to you. You fall into him instinctively, inhaling his soft woody scent as you bury yourself in his embrace, the pendulum of your life coming to a pause as your universe centres.

“Get a room, you two!” Connor’s brother, Quinn taunts from over your shoulder, eliciting an exaggerated sigh from you as you’re reluctantly reminded of the lame chirps he seems to be full of whenever you and Connor are together.

You ignore him, savouring the moment for what its momentarily worth before Connor’s pulling away, arms loosely wrapped around the circumference of your waist as he peers down at you with those same green eyes you’ve known your entire life.

“Hi.” you breathe, short and sweet.

He simpers, something coy in the lines of his smile as he replies back, “hi.”

It’s a simple greeting, but there’s so much more in those few syllables - the endless gravity of your shared experiences and fondest memories making their way back to each other. Your eyes linger for a minute longer, taking in each other’s presence that’s long been missed due to your busy schedules leading up to your summer break. You part ways and despite how fulfilled you are to have him here and see him after some time, there’s a small knack that nags at you - hollow and wanting as you venture to a booth nearby, squishing up in between Charlotte and another one of your guy friends, Owen Power, who like Connor has been busting his ass in the NHL and friends with you all for longer than you can remember. You all chatter amongst yourselves with Connor’s brother sitting across from you, a discussion brewing as Connor returns shortly after getting a drink at the bar, sliding beside his brother with a beer in hand.

“Come on, Connie. Help me out here, these guys have lost the plot.” His brother argues, an eye roll your response.

Connor looks between your group, a knit in his eyebrows. “What’s the deal?”

“They’re tryna say, get this - that dolphins are more dangerous than damn orcas. Can you believe that?” Quinn attests, expression pinched as he ruffles the curls of his bleached hair sticking out his snapback.

“Hey! We’re well within reason to be arguing with you. You on the other hand? I don’t think so.” Charlotte proclaims, an accusatory finger directed towards Quinn.

“Yeah, not gonna lie, Quinn. You’re severely underestimating how evil dolphins are,” concludes Owen, his hand raised as he pushes up his glasses on the bridge of his sunkissed nose.

Quinn guffaws, jaw slack as his eyes flicker between everyone’s faces in quick succession, clearly in disbelief. “Are you hearing this right now?”

“Look, Q - we’ve been over this,” you start, hands extending as if to make sense of your proposed point. “You’ve been fed dolphin propaganda. We’ve literally shown you so many resources about their heinous crimes. Take it or leave it.”

Quinn groans, elbowing his older brother who wordlessly listens to the ongoing conversation. “Bro! A little help would be nice.”

A brief pause follows his younger brother’s melodrama, Connor weighing out the arguments of a conversation he hadn’t been here for, his eyes flickering over towards yours fleetingly. An unexplained shiver runs down your spine, the action camouflaged poorly as you appear to distract yourself from the sensation, fingernails scratching against the lines of your neck as you look up at the ceiling.

“Hello?!” hollers Quinn.

You swear he loves to hear himself talk.

“They’re right,” Connor concludes, eyes set on you as he speaks before he takes a swig of his beer, focusing back onto his brother. “Personally, I think you’ve been taking one too many trips to Sea World.”

“The promised land of dolphin propaganda.” mentions Charlotte.

“This is ridiculous!” Quinn exclaims, sending a heavy elbow into his older brother’s arm, all of which barely gains any sort of response from him. “What happened to honour amongst bros, huh? They don’t have that in Minnesota or what?”

Connor scoffs lightly, his smile reading amused as his head turns towards his brother. “That doesn’t mean I have to agree with everything you say.”

Quinn mumbles something under his breath, clearly displeased. “I forget you’re my harshest critic.”

Their double act entices the crowd, your circle of friends laughing amongst yourselves as Quinn folds his shoulders with his usual theatrics. No one buys into it, much less Connor who drapes his arm loosely around his brother’s squared shoulders, leaning in with a tickled pink smile that reflects within your own expression.

“You’re just mad I won’t kiss your ass.”

That earns him a shove off Quinn’s shoulders, sending him into a fit of laughter. Everyone chortles along, basking in the merriment of the moment before you’re delving into other non-controversial topics, indulging everyone in the bits and pieces of your lives they’ve missed and just like that, you're four drinks in and so sentimental it hurts. Owen suggests a walk around the town centre, a tradition you cannot help but all agree to as you all shimmy out of your respective booth, bidding Judy at the bar farewell as you file out of the establishment.

The cobalt sky dazzles with stars you’ve forgotten shine so bright here, the midday heat nowhere in sight as a cool breeze pushes you forwards. You linger behind Quinn as he impulsively hops onto Owen’s back, who stumbles at the sudden weight whilst Charlotte laughs at the unfolding scene. Nostalgia warms your heart at the sight, eyes half-closed and posture relaxing as the warm summer night holds you close and kisses your worries goodbye.

An arm drapes over your shoulders, your slow strides matching up with Connor’s as he looks to you, smile small and earnest as he playfully challenges, “Since when did you know about dolphin propaganda?”

You gasp, humour shaping your lips. “Well, you’ve been in my ear most of my life yapping about it, so…”

“Hey, I’m just saying - was I wrong?” the smirk on his face attests to his unwavering confidence and as you catch a whiff of his woody cologne, you roll your eyes in defeat, smile still on your lips.

“Considering you wore a shark tooth to school, I didn’t think so.”

You have to bite back the wide smile that fights to spread across your face, a few snickers here and there escaping before the loose ring around your shoulders closes in, Connor smushing your face inwards against the strength of his bicep. You can’t help but laugh throughout, swatting away his pesky grip that lasts no longer than a few seconds before all you hear is the echoes of your winded chuckles. In an effort to stabilise yourself from the momentary loss of oxygen, your hand seeks Connor’s, holding onto his larger and warmer as your feet hit the pavement in unison.

“Feels good to be back, doesn’t it?”

You let your head fall to Connor’s shoulder, arm wrapping around his lower back as your steps sync with such ease. A lightness in your limbs and how perceptive you can be to the sounds of downtown - car horns, hushed chatter and the like - let you know there’s nowhere you’d rather be right now than here. Back at home, with your best friends and your partner in crime who you answer in the form of a hum.

Your first few days back in the Pas are slow and uneventful, most of your time spent decompressing from the taxing semester and unpacking your items, all of which you didn’t know just how much you possessed. In an effort to make the most of the sunshine and get out the house for reasons other than your part time job at the local diner, you sign up for community gardening activities and ask the groupchat if anyone wants to come along. Everyone appears to have plans, except for Connor, who in the early hours of the next morning, picks you up from your childhood home and drives into town where for the next few hours, you’re knee deep in dirt under the blaring sun as you plant various kinds of greenery to spotlight the natural beauty of your rustic town.

What is certain, when early afternoon pours in, painting the sky in shades of honey and tangerine, you’re exhausted beyond belief. You have no idea how Connor makes the drive home, yet he does and when you two collapse into the hammock in your family’s backyard, your lips are slack and echoing more yawns than you can contain.

“That was great and all, but that’s knocked me out,” Connor groans, limp body shuffling in the confinements of the cotton hammock hanging off one of the trees in your backyard. The same tree which holds the treehouse you and Connor partially lived in throughout your youth. “That was more tiring than hockey practice.”

You’re tired and easily distracted, your head perched up in a way that puts the treehouse in your direct eye-line. “Remember when we’d watch movies in that treehouse?”

A brief pause follows, occupied by the tranquil chirps and running water from the nearby bird bath. “Yeah, I’d always wanna watch Jaws but you wanted to watch Disney movies.”

You give him a laugh, shuffling yourself in order to get comfortable in the small space. Why did you two think this would work like it did ten years ago? The thought occurs to you, but you brush it off to save yourself additional mental load, making the adjustments to cater to some form of comfortability in the tiny space. Even if that means sacrificing your shared personal space as your body overlaps onto Connor’s strong and firm one.

“Says the guy who knows the all the songs in Lemonande Mouth,” you counter, “And, Let it Shine.”

Without missing a beat, in his sleepy voice, Connor replies with, “kissy kissy, Roxanne, did you miss me?”

Groaning despite the snickers slipping past your lips, you bury your head into Connor’s chest, refusing to hear the rest of his ramblings. “My girl is hotter than your girl, you know it! You know it.”

To get your point across, you unbury your head, wide eyes peering up at your best friend who’s so amused by this all, hair messy and smile stretching from ear to ear. A bright sight. “Can you not?”

“You’re just hating 'cause I sing better than you.” He follows that by sticking his tongue out at you, so mature for his age that you grant him the response of a heavy sigh and an averted gaze, settling back into the peace and serenity of your backyard.

However, the silence doesn’t last long before you’re speaking again.

“Your hair’s getting long,” you observe, fingertips dancing along Connor’s nape as you absently fiddle with the long strands of his hair, silky between your fingers. “You should let me cut it.”

“Name a time and place, and I’ll be there,” he mumbles sleepily against the crown of your head, soothing you further towards a serene sleep. “Unless you fuck it up. Then, I won’t forgive you.”

You give him the satisfaction of a laugh tucked away in your chest, the ghost of a smile dissipating as the aches of a hard work’s start to plunge their teeth into your flesh and bones, body like cement as you sink further into the comfort of the hammock, into the comfort of your calm summer afternoon.

“One of my friends from my team’s supposed to be coming up for a night or two,” Connor croaks, voice hoarse and the gentle breeze of the summer’s day pecking your skin in an act of love. “Think…you’ll all get along with him quite well.”

His point is punctuated by a tired yawn that proves to be contagious as you mirror the action moments after, eyes unbearably heavy as time moves slow like molasses, body further sinking against Connor’s. You don’t even stop yourself from falling asleep, only blinking away the exhausted sting in your eyes to answer your best friend.

“Can’t wait,” you mumble, adjusting your body against Connor as your limbs slot together like puzzle pieces, matched at every curve as slumber envelopes you two in a kind embrace. “It’ll be good - the visit…and the rest of summer.”

Your words trail in a drowsy daze, tone doused in sleepiness as your eyes can no longer keep themselves open, glimpses of hickory branches and pear leaves wishing you peace and serenity as you finally fall asleep.

Your shift at the local diner passes without as much traffic as expected, local patrons ordering their usual with a few tourists dropping by to try the culinary experience of your average but nostalgic diner food. Due to how quiet the establishment is - Mabel, your boss and long-time owner of the diner - lets you off early and with a hug, you scurry back to your family house to get ready for the night's events. After dozing off with Connor in the hammock out back, your mother softly awoke to you with a holler she’s used since the dawn of time.

“Up and at ‘em, kids. Dinner’s ready!” in the distance of your dreams, you hear your mother yell.

With drowsy film still coating your eyes, you and Connor manage to dislodge your limbs from one another, sleepy smiles and croaky chuckles exchanged as you amble inside your house and Connor stays for a filling homemade meal that everyone at the dining table fawns over. Connor hangs back as you venture into the kitchen to wash up, a tradition you two have forged, him washing the dishes and you drying them. Not much dialogue takes place between the two of you and there is no need. For all the instances where you believed the need for conversation, you appreciate this silence so much more - how there’s no urge to talk for the sake of talking and how much comfort there is with simply just being with Connor. After you’ve done the washing up and Connor’s hugged your mother goodbye, fist bumping your father hilariously enough, he’s climbing into his car and wishing you well.

“You sure you don’t need me to pick you up from Mabel’s?” coaxes Connor, the wiggle of his eyebrows offsetting the echoes of titters that leave your lips.

“I’m good, thanks. Need to shower and get ready, anyways,” a gentle gust of wind blows, fallen leaves scraping against the cement of your driveway. “We all know how long that takes.”

“I don’t mind waiting.” Connor simpers, says like it’s the easiest thing in the world and like it doesn’t demand for the city of butterflies within you to soar beyond their ability.

You flash a strained smile, giving the top of Connor’s car a pat as your posture straightens and you step away from the vehicle. “Goodbye, Connor.”

“See you soon.” and just like that, he’s gone with the wind, taking a little piece of you with him.

It’s when you’re strolling your way back inside the house, halfway up the stairs to your bedroom that your mom gives you a gentle call, beckoning you back down the stairs to find her in the dimly lit living room, mahogany reading glasses hanging low on the bridge of her nose whilst the quiet snores of your father and his baseball game fill in the background noise.

She folds her newspaper, crinkles running up your spine as she addresses you. “So good to have Connie over, makes me miss him more when he’s away.”

Connor is like a son to her, the better part of your childhood glued at the hip whilst your parents cooed and awed at your loyalty to one another. He helps around the house with no complaint nor expectation of compensation, buys her favourite flowers every Mother’s day with an additional heartfelt gift come her birthday. He listens, he jokes and he cares. What more could she ask for?

“Can’t imagine how much more you miss him whilst you’re away.” she comments, throwing her denim clad leg over the other, directing all her attention to you, swaying between two feet with your hands behind your back, sceptical.

“Well, we try to meet up when we can, so it’s not too bad,” your hand goes to scratch the back of your neck, chin jutted as your head leans to the side. “…Is that why you called me down?”

Awkwardness rarely rears its head in your household built upon openness and unconditional love, which is why the unspoken truth your mother struggles to vocalise raises a red flag, your skin prickling as you fiddle with your hands behind your back.

She’s looking at you now, a maternal love in her eyes as she speaks up. “Maybe, I can’t really put my finger on it, really. I did, however, want to say that I hope you guys keep each other in your lives, however that may pan out in the future. There’s a special happiness in your eyes I want you two to be selfish with.”

It’s a small thing, she says. A snowflake amongst the pile of snow in the realms of your mind, but as you lay in bed later on that late afternoon, staring at the gold stars Connor helped hang up in your room, your mind wanders places it never conceptualised. Inserts Connor in places in your life where he hadn’t been previously - opposite you illuminated by a candle-lit dinner, dancing in a kitchen as you prepare breakfast and kiss each other in between, above your bare body as he holds you in the palm of his hand like you are the most precious thing the universe has gifted him. It’s a point in time that despite busying yourself with dipping your toes back into your hobbies - heck, even walking your next door neighbour’s golden retriever to clear your head - it never quite leaves you, awakening something deep and dormant in you that never goes away.

Snapping out of your syrupy daze, you adorn yourself in your finest line dance clothing, slipping on your gingerbread cowboy boots before you’re tying bows in the pigtails of your hair. Your mother yells down the stairs for you and you leave in a flash, kissing her goodbye as she drops you off at Punch and Judy’s, your jewellery clinking together as you walk through the main entrance.

Much like your first night back, the bar is illuminated in dim light and sharp LED lights of varying colours. Cowboy hats dominate the sea of customers, the building crowd of the bar dressed in shades of denim and tired leather cowboy boots. Knowing the others have already arrived, saving a spot at a nearby booth, you decide to make your way to the bar first, ordering your signature berries-flavoured cider, to which Punch (co-owner) makes quick work of, the cold beverage in your hands before you can blink.

“Beer not to your liking, sugar?” A smoky, mellow voice grabs your attention.

You spare a glance at the source of the gravel voice, eyes long lingering as they capture the image of a face that stirs a flip in the pits of your stomach. The man stood beside you braces his muscular arms against the hickory brown of the wooden bar, his sleepy chocolate eyes trained on yours as he takes a swig of his tequila flavoured Desperado beer. Locks of umber messily cascade along his face, unless tucked away in his vintage black cowboy hat that ties together the rugged cowboy look he presents with the sweet addition of his light stubble. To make things worse, he’s stupidly fit, his black t-shirt clinging to the curves of his muscles like second skin. If it were up to you, you’d-

“Like what you see?”

The smug comment snaps you out of your hazy olge, a pout forming upon your lips with an accompanying knit in your eyebrows. You make a point to angrily grab at your pint glass, ingesting a big gulp of the sugary alcohol whilst the rugged cowboy laughs to himself.

Even his laugh is attractive. Sick bastard.

“Coming from a man drinking a Desperado? Funny,” you have to laugh at whatever lame attempt of making conversation this man is pulling, Punch masking his misplaced laughter behind a cough as he polishes a pint glass. “How flirtatious you are.”

You admit, your latter remark is more bark than bite, a quick chirp that refuses to feed his ego yet grab his interest all at the same time. The ruse proves to work in your favour as the sexy cowboy gives another one of his huffed laughs, his body turned towards yours.

“Give me a chance, sugar. Just tryna start the night off right,” he counters, so brazenly confident in himself that you don’t know whether to laugh or shy away from his prying eyes. “Tequila beer and beautiful company - sounds about perfect to me.”

You react in a juxtaposition, eyes rolling and cheeks flushing as you divert your line of sight away from the handsome man flirting with you at your hometown bar. Perhaps, he’s some city folk travelling through the town, fancying himself a good time at Punch & Judy’s weekly hoedown Fridays, a little bit of flirting on the side to inflate his ego and keep his blood pumping. Whatever reason explains his presence, you are not one to complain. Your love life isn't very entertaining to put it mildly, so you're willing yourself not to get swept up in his caramel eyes.

Against the wishes of your quickening heart, you decide to give Mr. Handsome Traveller the time of day, body shifting as you face each other finally. “You don’t quit, don’t you?”

He cocks an eyebrow your way, something sneaky and sugary in the lines of his smile. A brief pause follows his actions, the soft rustic sounds of old town country murmuring from the jukebox nearby filling up in the space between your figures. It’s when he’s about to make yet another cocky comment that your conversation is put on pause.

Connor’s voice calls your name, head turning to find your best friend standing in between you and the Punch & Judy’s cowboy of the night, eyes wide and expectant as they shift back and forth in the middle of your standing figures.

“Dew, forget about Desperados tonight. The lady in bows will have your head otherwise.” Handsome Traveller nods his chin towards you, humour dancing in his smile as he snickers into his half-full glass.

Then, it dawns on you. Dew? One of the handful of nicknames Connor’s adopted over the course of his livelihood. So, they’re acquaintances? Or closer? Your eyes frantically search for social clues to point you in the right direction.

“The lady in bows is my best friend,” Connor explains, a bite to his words as his eyes glare a knowing look at Sexy Cowboy. He then goes on to face you, gaze softening almost immediately as his head tilts in his friends (?) direction. “This is Brandon, or Dewey One.”

Oh. Makes sense, you rationalise. This is Brandon, Connor’s close friend and teammate on his current team out in Minnesota, the one who gets into fights he can’t win on the ice whilst Connor trails nearby picking up his fallen gear. The one he told you a couple of days ago that was coming up to visit. And, of course you were flirting with him.

Of. Course.

“Dewey One?” you ask, minorly deflecting from your embarrassment and still genuinely curious.

Connor inhales, as if to speak but Brandon beats him to it.

“Brandon’s just fine,” he interjects, expression unassuming as Connor’s eyes put his visiting friend underneath a microscope. “Nice to meet you, darling.”

Normally, you’d wrinkle your nose at the sometimes sleazy pet name Brandon casually calls you, except this time round you find it more amusing than cringe-worthy, which is how you find yourself grinning as you two exchange a handshake that testifies to how strong Brandon is. You clear your throat to stop the circus unfolding within you.

“Come on,” Connor gestures over to you to follow suit. “Can’t keep ‘em waiting.”

You call out an agreement over your shoulder as you go to grab your drink, the hairs on the back of your neck stand to attention as a close whisper brushes past your ears.

“I ain’t no quitter, sugar.”

The next couple of hours are spent packed into a crimson leather booth that peels at the ends, going from topic to topic over many a pints. Brandon fits so easily into your group, his infectious energy illuminating as he takes up space without regard, his confidence more enticing than suffocating. Everyone seems to be in good spirits as the alcohol keeps flowing and as you sit back, careful eyes watching your friends engage in conversation, you wish for this to be your forever for as long as you'd like for it to be.

A nudge against your shoulder turns your head, greeted by Connor’s sage eyes. “You ready for Judy’s Line Dance?”

His rhetorical question draws a laugh from you. “You say that like I don’t do this every time I come back.”

“Yeah, but if you were ready then, you would’ve brought your cowboy hat,” comments Connor, his veiny hands grasping gently at the ends of your braided pigtails accented with a bow. “What? Wanted to show off your pretty bows?”

He thumbs the ends of your hair, engrossed in the strands and its feel and for some reason, the casual intimacy of the moment inflates something in your chest, a balloon about to burst as you forcibly breathe in and out, clearing your throat afterwards. “They're my favourite accessories.”

Connor huffs, corners of his lips lifting gingerly as he continues his motions with his hands whilst your body remains rigid with the exception of your racing heart and crimsoning cheeks.

Your mother has definitely planted a seed you cannot unroot.

“Yeah, you’re almost always wearing them in your BeReal. posts. They’re real cute.”

For a fact you know so well, Connor’s confession comes as a pleasant surprise, one that shallows your breaths and quickens your pulse. It makes you reflect back on before, when all was platonic and the comment wouldn’t have made you bat an eyelash. Now, your skin tingles and you’re struggling to find the words to encapsulate your affection past your dry mouth. So, like many others in your position, you settle for a safe reply.

“Aren’t you a charmer?” you roll your eyes, brushing off his grasp because you might combat otherwise, projecting your attention ahead of you to come face-to-face with Brandon, who despite the engaging conversation he shares with Owen, his eyes skirt over to you.

You look away, even more flustered than before.

It’s just your luck when you hear Judy’s tap incessantly against an old microphone that you have something else to hold your focus, eyes brimming with glee as she announces the dances for the night and their updated partner songs. Last time you were here, they were still playing their beloved country hits and you danced along thanks to the amounts of alcohol you consumed, but their new playlist of pop hits within the past decade or so, you’re more motivated than ever to tear apart the dance floor.

“If you ain’t shy to do a little two step, please make your way to the dancefloor please.” Judy grins into her mic, tipping her cowboy hat as patrons make their way over to the illuminated space.

Connor makes way for you to exit the booth, your boots hitting the ground as you iron out any kinks in your outfit. Amidst your actions, you catch other movements out of the corner of your eyes, to which you find Connor playing with the ends of your bow this time round. There’s always been something so sweet and tender about him - in the way clouds are amongst a blue sky, in the way laughter spills over so easily in the presence of a found family and in how harmonies make you feel as if you're floating. But, it’s never been like this before, this intense and vivd. In a way that rids you of all thought and scares you beyond your deepest fears all at once. You’re still finding your footing in this new territory, a plain that speaks to the existence of your feelings but has no road nor destination. It’s a simple plain you seek to find some end to, picking up clues along the way that predetermine what the future holds. At the beginning, the animosity scared you pale and grey. Now, the end is what grasps your fear in a fierce chokehold. To pry yourself from the jaws of unhinged anxiety, you allow yourself to relax, to seep into the present and take it for what it's worth because the end is unknown and you’re not there yet. Not by any measure of time, you hope.

“Kick butt out there, rockstar.” His big smile deepens the soft lines of his face, a pure display of pride in his features as he gives you a pat on the back and gives way for you to shine.

It’s small, insignificant in the grand scale of things, but your smile deepens too and you nearly float to the dancefloor, adrenaline rushing through your body as the DJ prepares the upcoming music.

As you settle in line, you feel a light pressure lay upon the crown of your head, eyes darting to find Charlotte in the line next to you, giving you a wink before she faces forwards, thumbs slotted through the loops of her flare jeans. Her straw cowboy hat no longer, you reach up to find said object upon your head and with a chuckle behind your hand, your thumbs hang on your belt loops and let the music guide you.

It’s only when you’ve done your first turn that you realise that Brandon has also decided to join the line dance, huffs of amusement sounding from you as he glides and slides with a confidence dusted with his normal dash of comedy.

When Judy announces it's time for the partner dance, it’s your cue to catch your breath as you plan to evacuate the dancefloor. As mentioned earlier by Charlotte, the pretty sandy brown haired man who’d bought her a drink earlier in the night circles his arms around her waist as she gives him a smitten grin. You beam at the endearing sight, about to make your way towards your booth but are stopped in your tracks as a calloused hand clasps around your wrist.

Brandon’s expression is more sheepish than you’ve ever seen, his eyes distracted as they wander away from you. You raise an eyebrow.

“Who says the night has to end here, sugar?” His voice trembles partially, its edge lost in the coyness lining his smile as he finally looks at you with a dazzle of hope in his eyes.

A momentary pause delays your response, the moment used to turn the cogs in your head and sneak a glance back at your booth, where Connor was last you saw him, eyes trained on you as he simply watches the interaction. Under the weight of his gaze, a creeping sense of embarrassment climbs up your back, scolding the skin. You’re about to give your reply when the music starts up and Brandon speaks again.

“Put this desperado out of his misery and allow me this one dance?”

It’s so cheesy, maybe even idiotic - the words he proposes to you but he’s trying and that’s what appeals to you most, warms your heart and sways your response as you send him a nod that has Brandon cheesing ear to ear, his hand leading the way as you two fall in line.

You haven’t had much experience line dancing with a partner, the closest experience to this being a night you barely remember, happily back sliding with a fifty year old local in your college town bar who wanted to feel young again. Regardless of the fact, there’s no time to mull it over as the music already starts and your fingers are interlocking, matching up with the rest of the duos as you dance, cowboy boots stomping as you make a scene.

In all the commotion of heavy stops and ongoing thumps of Rihanna’s ‘S&M’, Brandon manages to catch your attention, mirroring your movements to a tee.

“You and Connor don’t do this much, do you?” he queries.

“You kidding me? Connie has two left feet, I’d be left for dead if it wasn’t for Charlotte.” You yell over the blaring upbeat country music, arms extended as Brandon glides you further away from his figure.

“Good thing I’m here tonight.” jesters Brandon, and you laugh along because you’re tipsy and having a lot more fun than you imagined.

Despite your familiarity with the dance routine you two execute to a tee, you’re caught off guard when Brandon brings you inwards, bracing you against his hard chest before his arm circles around the circumference of your lower back, holding you steady as he dips your body slightly. Your foot is kicked out, your (Charlotte’s) straw hat’s fallen to the scuffed dancefloor and you’ve just had the wind knocked straight out of you, eyes feverishly searching for answers as the bar falls to a hush.

You’re looking in each other’s eyes now, chest heaving and high off the adrenaline pumping through your veins from all that dancing. All time ceases to exist and it’s just two of you, sharing laboured breaths and looking for any cues for how this will end. It appears as if you’re in your own head at this point, combing through a thousand possibilities all at once to respond however you see fit. Thankfully for you, Brandon breaks the silence.

“One night and one night only.”

The sentence sends shivers down your spine and you’re pretty sure Brandon feels you quiver in his arms as he gives a brief chuckle, hauling you up onto your two feet and bringing you back to reality. You don’t really find their footing after that.

The rest of your time at Punch & Judy’s passes by in a flash, more pints being consumed over your group’s loud chatter as the night stretches on. Charlotte and her blue eyed companion indulge in another dance before he’s whisking her back to the bar and paying for everyone’s next set of drinks - bless his heart. He introduces himself as Jack, a new face in town and as he and the boys exchange pleasantries, the wild eyed non-verbal dialogue you engage in pieces together Charlotte’s sentiment and if it isn’t enough, when Jack makes his departure, she gives him a kiss on the cheek and bides him a coy farewell, a promise to meet in the next coming days on her tongue. One thing is certain, when Jack makes his exit from the bar, the door shutting behind him, you’re yelling and shaking each other’s shoulders in glee, stupidly happy and sharing that with one another.

Your table has their last drinks and before you know it, you’re being squeezed into the back of Owen’s pickup truck, sandwiched between Charlotte and Connor whilst Owen and Brandon sit up front. Over the murmured sounds of slow alternative music, you get bits and pieces of their conversation, the two excitedly talking about their shared love for Legos and the most they’ve splurged on one set. You shake your head with a laugh, going to share your merriment with Charlotte, only to find her soundly asleep, a light snore bypassing her punch pink lips.

“How you holdin’ up, champ?” Connor’s low voice draws you in, a slight head turn in his direction. “Don’t think I’ve seen you dance like that since we were ten and begging our parents to have a sleepover.”

The image is so vivid in your brain, two wide eyed kids that held hands as they begged and pleaded to have a sleepover, only for their polite request to be refused. Taking matters into your own hands, you dragged your parents’ big hands into the living room, where in front of them and an oblivious Connor, turned on MTV and danced to some popular song of the time. Lucky for you, it worked. Unluckily, Connor would hold that over your head forever onwards.

You’re cringing into your hand, face mangled in discomfort as you wish away the reality of you doing that away. “One of us had to convince them. Plus, it worked, didn’t it?”

“I can’t argue with that,” Connor laughs behind a fist before his hand falls to his side, a moment of quiet between you two. “You and Brandon seem to be hitting it off.”

A single eyebrow raises to express your confusion, perplexed frown prominent not because of his statement which is completely true, but because there’s an edge to his voice - something unfamiliar and cold in the way he says his words - a tone you’ve yet to hear, even after all these years. Uncertain how to proceed, you choose to be cautious about the matter, selecting your words carefully.

“He’s nice,” you state, because Brandon is but something in you twists uncomfortably, feels the recognizable pangs of embarrassment as you’re subjected to uttering this out loud. Or rather, in front of Connor. A betrayal of some sorts. “You were right about him fitting right in with us.”

There’s a strange shift in the air in the backseat of the car, the once peaceful quiet now becoming increasingly heavy and awkward as your words hang in the air like knives. Connor absorbs your words, stare averted as he watches his fingers fiddle with the lock of the door on the windowsill. You run your palms against the material of your denim shorts because you don’t know what to do with them otherwise.

It’s only when you’ve scratched the back of your neck, eyes stiffly roaming the interior of the car that Connor replies. “Yeah..I guess I just didn’t know how well.”

You’re about to ask him what he means by that, going to press him but Owen’s suddenly shut off the truck, his blinding interior lights turning on and him killing the ignition, alerting you of your arrival. Connor climbs out before your vision reverts back to normal, so you put the matter on pause and softly wake up Charlotte who sheepishly wipes away dried drool at the corner of her lips and climbs out the pick-up with you. You’re about to shut the door behind you, though someone beats you to it.

“I got it.” Brandon’s husky voice sounds from behind you, the slam of the door following.

You send an appreciative smile his way, perhaps a bit of timidity mixed in there too, turning to include Charlotte in any possible conversation to come, only to find her halfway up the porch stairs of Connor’s house.

How is it always the two of you left alone?

“Let’s head in, it’s chilly out here.” suggests Brandon, you falling in line with his request as the beginnings of goosebump dot your arms, the roughness of your skin hitting an all time high as Brandon’s large hand falls to the small of your back, guiding you up the stairs into the cosy and quaint house.

Hums of conversation lead from the back porch of Connor’s house, the presence of your friends known as you wordlessly navigate your way through the halls of Connor’s house, hallways and framed pictures you’ve committed to memory. When you’ve made your way to the kitchen, you find Owen nursing a cool bottled water, hair tousled and cheeks dusted in pink.

“There you two are,” announces Owen, fingers threading through the waves of his brown hair. “Everyone’s out back - apparently, Quinn’s out back too.”

You waste no time beelining for the backyard, the sudden weight of your reality dawning on you the second you stepped through Connor’s doorway, a cold shower of water easing you out of the mirage you’ve impulsively floated in. Once you’re outside, the cool air sinking into your skin, you spying the usual suspects - Quinn, Charlotte and Connor gathered together around a fire Quinn boasts about making. His glee is short lived.

“That boy scouts training finally coming in handy, huh?” Charlotte banters, a suppressed smirk sneaking amongst her features as she takes a seat in one of the camping chairs surrounding the fire.

“You laugh now but when you need someone to tie an impossible knot and survive off the land, don’t come running to me.” responds Quinn, taking a swig of his beer as Charlotte holds her hands up in surrender, laughing regardless.

You’re about to turn on your heels to head back inside, retrieving a beverage of your own, but a familiar call of your name is stopping you in your tracks.

“I’ve got your cider here,” alerts Connor, expression indifferent as he approaches you to hand off a can of your favourite berry cider and a bottle of water. “Blankets are on the chairs too.”

It’s embarrassing how much you want to melt into this man’s arms right now. Nonetheless, for reasons you know all too well, you express your gratitude in a toothy grin that he mirrors with a closed mouth, pulling you down into the camping chair beside his.

Soon enough, Brandon and Owen are sitting round the fire too and your night ends like this, light-hearted discussions under the stars as the heat from the open flame soothes your heavy eyelids closed. Whilst you’re mildly awake, you don’t miss the glances you and Bradon trade over the sandstone fire, loaded questions in his eyes. Had this been any other occasion, any other person not linked to Connor, any other reality where your current feelings didn’t exist for Connor, then there would be no questions asked, blossoms of wine doting both your necks come tomorrow morning. Alias, these were not the conditions and simply lounged in your camping chair, hoping Brandon didn’t look your way every time Connor’s hand would play with the bows in your hair.

Arm hanging out of his shiny porcelain white pick-up truck, Brandon squints as the rays from the blistering sun reflect into his eyes. Having said their goodbyes earlier, Connor and Brandon dab each other up with good-natured smiles before Brandon throws his focus over to you, standing with a bit more awkwardness than you’d like.

“Take care, Lady in bows,” Brandon says, a well-mannered nod sent your way with a closed mouth smile. “Don’t give Dewey a hard time. He’ll come round.”

For a split second, you’re eyeing him as if his face contains all the answers, but when he gives you that knowing look, the same one Charlotte and your mother give you any time Connor’s name is mentioned - you know. Know all too well and blush as a result, head snapping behind you to see if Connor’s within earshot. Thankfully, he’s in the middle of chatting with his brother, hands in his pocket as Quinn points off into the distance. You circle back to Brandon, the apples of his cheeks clear as day as he snickers like he’s been told a secret.

It’s as if this best kept secret brings you infinitely closer, your walls falling as you begin to bare the depth of your sentiment surrounding Connor. There’s no more beating around the bush, so you lower your head as you kick at the rocks at your feet. “You think so?”

You hate how small your voice comes out, meek and questioning everything known to man. It’s unfamiliar and not to mention, uncomfortable in every aspect of the word. Alias, Brandon sees you - catches the vulnerability you’ve shared with him and embraces you with a kindness that ushers a relieved sigh from you as he responds back.

“I’d bet my NASA Space Shuttle lego set on it.” Brandon banters, smirk soft and small.

So, he’s serious. Very serious, it seems because you know how treasured the item is to him. You exhale a breath you hadn’t known you were holding.

“Thanks, Brandon,” you breath, coyness coating your cheeks as your hands fall behind your back, your fingers tangling. “Don’t go fighting no alligators.”

“We can only hope,” Brandon gives his side-door a smack, rounding up everyone’s attention. “I’m hitting the road, fellas. Enjoy the fair for me, yeah?”

A chorus of agreements go off from behind you before Brandon gives one more salute, speeding off into the canary yellow sun. The small crowd outside Connor’s house disperses and regroups again later on that day, refreshed and ready to attend the local fair held every summer and the highlight of the year.

The fair lives up to its expectations, grand and joyful with a variety of rides ranging from teacups to a catapult-like ride that swings back and forth and then upside down. You’re distracted by all the colours, the sights and sounds that you’re so oblivious to what goes on right before you, until your vision is shrouded in black and your face is submerged in fluff.

Retracting, you blink your eyes to adjust to the change in lighting, lips parting as you stare at the massive latte-coloured teddy bear that Connor presents to you, the rest of your friends nearby taking their turns at the darts board way ahead of them.

He must see you struggle to find the words, his grin infectious as he jests, “I think I’ve finally out-conned the concessionaires.”

You must look like an idiot, or a deer in the headlights as Charlotte jokes, disbelief strikingly apparent on your face as you reach for the souvenirs, the fluffy animal so cosy in your arms and melting your heart into a big puddle of goo. “Thank you, Con.”

“Don’t mention it.” a smile plays tenderly on his lips, the sheer kindness he captures in his sage eyes enough to make your pulse race and head spin.

After the thoughtful gesture, your high spirits cannot be tamed as you indulge in every little thing your heart desires - laughing a little harder, smiling a little wider and stuffing your cheeks full of hearty food that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. Charlotte basks in your glee, speaking of a glow you radiate as she snaps photos of your stuffed cheeks, a knowing smirk on her lips as she hands you your teddy bear once your food is finished. You don’t reply, exchanging words through your glances as you make your way towards the second bit of rides the boys want to try.

“Wait, isn’t that…?”

As Quinn’s voice trails off into the distance, you find yourself turning in the exact direction where he directs your view, eyes landing on a pair of figures - one being Connor and the other being, Amelia, Connor’s ex-girlfriend from high school and most notably, his last girlfriend. Her waves of blond hair glisten in the sunshine, something like a Renaissance painting. Her smile bright and wide as she greets Connor with an enthusiastic hug, a hug you feel lasts longer than necessary.

They then go on to immerse themselves in conversation, and for the life of you, you can’t look away - pry your jealous eyes away nor dry swallow this bitter pill because she’s still so into him. Hands familiar and all over him, leaning in when she gets the chance and beaming like she’s won the lottery. In all fairness, her life’s been such a tale - excelling academically, incredibly driven in all sports and other extracurricular activities that garnered her attention. And such a kind spirit too, always there to help no questions asked that it made you physically sick that you could foster any ill feelings towards her, because she’s such a light and maybe Connor would see that too. As he did when they were together.

You’re too busy losing yourself in a sea of self pity that you don’t notice Charlotte's attempts to snag your attention nor other things at first, your illegitimate fears getting the best of you but as your posture stoops, your eyes floating everywhere around the busy fair that it pauses on Connor’s figure. Once immersed in conversation, he appears distracted, indifferent somehow as his attention wanders, wanders over to you as his line of sight floats over to you from time to time as the conversation stretches on. At first, you think it’s your mind playing tricks on you, feeding into delusions that’ll soothe your pity party, but at some point, he holds your gaze, giving Amelia a pat on the back before he’s jogging over to where your friendship group is, not even uttering a word as he slots himself between you and Owen.

“What was that about?” Quinn just has to ask.

“Oh, Amelia just wanted to catch up,” he sounds distracted, his mind elsewhere but you don’t dare to indulge, your sight directed elsewhere as you grip onto the plush teddy bear as if it were a lifeline. “She says hi, by the way.”

You don’t do much listening after that, tuning out all the colours and sounds of the fair as you ride the highs and lows of what your life has become.

A sense of urgency plagues you from that day forth, a hurriedness in your actions as your anxieties get the better of you, going from lounging around in day old pyjamas covered in crumbs and mystery stains to getting a head start on your master’s personal statement and running every errand you’ve been procrastinating. Your parents swear you’ve become a different person - venturing outside the house before noon to visit the bank to change your address or go get your car serviced. Perhaps seeing Connor with Amelia was the jump start you needed to stop relishing in instant gratification, distracting yourself from facing any sort of music that pertained to the future and all its question marks. You still hang out with the others, more so Charlotte as you spend a few afternoons at the lake with one another, feet dangling into the water as she updates you on her adventures with Jack.

It’s the first time someone’s pursued her with such sincerity and charm that she’s hesitant about his authenticity. And yet from the sounds of it, Jack doesn’t mind one bit and shows his patience as they get to know each other, the smitten man taking your best friend on dates that further solidify their connection. You couldn’t be any happier for your best friend, this kind of treatment a long time coming, all of which you express just to see her blush and dive into the cold lake water to avoid further talks. You chase after her, teasing her mercilessly as the thoughts still linger at the back of your mind - your own sentiment with regards to Connor and what has come from the change of heart.

Emotional anguish and so much fear you’re not sure what to do with yourself. It takes a week of mulling things over, his missing presence due to off-season hockey training for you to make up your mind, peeling into his driveway and hiding your apprehension behind a strained smile as he greets you at the door. You preoccupy every bit of silence with running chatter, because you don’t want to hear yourself think, a multitude of topics discussed over vodka pasta you make together before you’re finding your way into his bedroom, the early evening sky greeting you as he flicks on his buttermilk bedside lamp.

He brings out his guitar, the same one you gifted Connor two years ago at the height of his newly-found hobby and plucks the strings, creating a melody you compel yourself to relax into, somehow ending up sandwiched in between him and the guitar as he directs your fingers to play one of your favourite songs, just because.

Apparently, your shaky hands don’t make for good playing material.

“You’re shaking like a leaf, you cold or something?” notes Connor, his looming presence over your body sending you into overdrive, your skin feverish and mind imploding from overwork.

“This is different.” you annouce, because it is. Unlike times before, it didn’t mean as much to be alone in his bedroom with him, getting glimpses into the life he’s lived and who he is as a person through all his possessions. You could handle the casual intimacy - the soft spoken whispers, the unprovoked kindness, the skin to skin contact that didn’t send your heart into a series of flutters. Now, all you can do is bat an eyelash, many at that, and this you must make known. For the selfish reasons you can think of.

“What d’ya mean?” he mumbles, clearly distracted and known the wiser to his breath fanning over your neck, goosebumps rising against your skin as your body grows rigid against his.

So acutely aware of your proximity, of the bursting feelings that thud at the confinement of your chest, your thoughts scatter like glass. “This, Connor. Being like this…with you.”

That strikes a chord with Connor, his motions ceasing altogether as his hands drop from the guitar and you’re forced to face the music. Sink your teeth into this undeniable truth that’s followed you all these years and you’ve been too blind to see. Confront the holy truth that maybe there was more divine work intertwined in your story with Connor, that maybe the universe wrote you two as one heart as opposed to two. That, as the summer days ticked by, the sun seeping into your skin, your love grew for Connor like molasse - slow and thick and palpable that once you were aware of its existence, that’s all that consumed you. Coated in his syrupy love, an endless desire.

You’re facing your best friend in spite of the hellish screams in your mind to play this off as some random mood swing, a joke even, because laughter follows you two everywhere, right? But, you know. Know better than anybody else that Connor knows you, like the back of his hand. Sees right through any charade you may jester him with, so any attempts to divert the conversation are as pointless as anything. Your confession starts and ends here.

A flicker of concern mixes in the dark of his eyes, hands clasped together with a crease in between his eyebrows. “I don’t follow.”

A full body sigh draws out of you, shoulders sagging and back curving, your hands casting aside the acoustic guitar with caution. You’re back to staring at each other, in the silence of the night, caged in between four walls that burn your eyes white as you once again grapple with your innumerable feelings and the finality of it all - this longing.

“Don’t you think,” you croak, question in your eyes as you look up at Connor, stifling any rise in emotion within you. “-this summer has been different?”

His sage eyes cast away, pink lips settling into a pout as he racks his brain for whatever answer you may be looking for. “No? Maybe? I don’t know.”

He adds on, looking back at you as he leans closer without fault. “Is this because it’s your last summer before you graduate?”

Connor’s got a point. When you’re trying to kid yourself into not having romantic feelings for your childhood best friend, your mind wanders to places where it has more control. Plans for after college, what modules you’ll be taking, what societies you want to join, what last things you’d like to cross off your list before you’re forced into full fledged adulthood. It’s a thought that lingers ever so presently at the back of your mind, like background music stuck on loop, but ultimately, Connor has missed his mark and you tell him so.

“Partially, but,” you wet your lips, struggling to find the words again as the burn against your cheeks proves to be insufferable. “This is what’s been on my mind more than anything else.”

Your point is accentuated by your single finger gesturing between the two of you, a poor attempt at best to foster some sort of confession of your romantic feelings. Because it's so scary, lending these thoughts your voice because they become much more real, spoken aloud for his ears to hear and his heart to see. For his heart to feel and what then? What awaits you once your confession reaches his ears? The unknown is scary, chilling to the bone and you wish to shroud yourself from it as long as there’s daylight.

There’s a beat before you hear Connor’s voice again. “What about us?”

Hearing him vocalise those three words makes the moment so real, so vividly intense that it sends chills down your spine and slows your laboured breath, the thump of your heart all you can hear aside from the ticking clock against Connor’s bedside table. It ticks and ticks, signifying the curtain call to your summer long charade.

“Connor, I..” It’s as if the magnitude of your feelings have manifested into some beast, with razor-like fangs and sharp claws that slash at the confinements of your chest, the words of love dying on the tip of your tongue as the moments hangs over your head like a gauntlet. You’ve never been so scared before, driven nearly to tears as your desperate hands grip at the material of your hoodie to ground yourself in some sort of way whilst you try to push yourself. To see this through until the very end and leave the destination unknown.

“We’ve been friends our entire lives. I don’t know anything beyond being with you and I never wanted to, and I feel like that means so much more than it did years ago,” his eyes are on you, undivided attention served on a silver platter that you turn away from, for its sincerity and shine. “Maybe, I did know deep down inside what I know now all those years ago. Like when I cried and begged for you not to leave the Pas. Or when you held my hand any chance you got when we were kids, or anytime you smiled at me really that let me know I always liked you. Maybe, even love you - I don’t know. But, what I do know is that I just couldn’t leave for Calgary without letting you know. Even if that means…”

You don’t have the heart to utter your next words, a dagger to the heart at even the possibility of losing your best friend and partner in crime. Perhaps, it isn’t worth saying - this whole grand love confession because this is a risk you’re not ready to face. However, despite your thundering heart against your bruised chest and however many times you’re second guessing yourself here, the weight lifted from your words is undeniable. An unspoken truth that had been set free, that needed to be set free - whatever the fallout may be.

A snicker snaps you out of your deep seated fears, your scattered daze settling on the view before you, one you had least expected. Connor, eyes cast away from yours as he huffs into his hands, a laugh you’re undecided where it derives from.

“…Are you laughing at me right now?” You feel awful for even asking such a ridiculous question. At the same time, you’ve just been as vulnerable as you’ve ever been in your entire life - some hesitancy is to be expected.

At your question, Connor’s huffs of delight cease and stares at you at alarm, realising his mistake. “God, no. Fuck, I’m so sorry, I just-”

“You used to rub dirt on me, and now you're proclaiming your love for me,” an airy laugh puffs out of his moving chest, a mixture of disbelief and amusement painted amongst his chiselled features. “It’s a bit of an adjustment.”

He seems…happy? Relieved? You’re not really sure, but what you at least find peace in is that there’s no sunken look about him, no expression worn that conveys disappointment and hurt because that’s all you’d have to see to know where his heart lies.

“Good or bad?” you ask.

His eyes bounce back to yours, those same olive eyes you’ve spent years looking into, glimmer with a sparkle that you’ve yet to see and robs you of rational thinking as your heartbeat picks up the pace.

“Good,” he whispers, like it’s a secret for just the two of you - one that is small and fragile, but so special and cherished that it makes your heart squeeze. “Because, there’s no one else I’d rather be with. Not by a long shot.”

You swear you could cry, burst like a dam and drown in your tears that overflow with such joy and relief because this is it for you. So right and settled, being where you’ve always meant to be - so loved and treasured by the one person who knows you better than yourself, someone who’s seen you at your most awkward and at your worst, and loves you because he has. Because he’s seen it all and wants to spend the remainder of his life doing so, a conscious choice he makes everyday because he loves you and you love him.

You’re unsure how you’ve ended up like this, limbs curled up in your lover’s lap as he cups your cheeks, rough thumb caressing the skin as his love shines through his gaze that blows his iris’ out of view. He looks so beautiful like this, unabashed and vulnerable, secure in love and what destiny holds for you. He looks at you as if you colour his skies and spin his world round and just like that, you lose yourself in him. Thread your fingers through his strands of umber brown and kiss him like you mean it. Kiss him long and hard, and with everything you have because it’s long overdue, so needed that you melt into him, lips overlapping as you taste destiny on his tongue.

The story of you and him, a tale as old as time.

#connor dewar x reader #connor dewar #connor dewar fic #cd24 #minnesota wild #toronto maple leafs #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #connor dewar fluff #dewey 2 #brandon duhaime #dewey 1 #dewey #residenthughes

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ncroissant · 6 days

Note

you can ignore this request but can I ask you to Make a story of Francis mosses and like a housewife reader who has an ignorant husband so when the milkman comes visit she "pays" him very nicely

switch! francis mosses x fem! reader

summary: paying your neighbourly milkman a hefty tip

wc: 2.2k

content warning: nsfw, cheating, double infidelity, masturbation, slight nipple play, soft dom francis energy, slightly subby francis, kind of unrealistic p in v (i was too lazy to write foreplay), creampie, very fluffy

author's note: hii anon, thanks sm for the ask :)) i love this sm and i hope ur okay with some sub married francis teehee >:) this was soooo self-indulgent :O hope u guys enjoy this one !! not proof read, minors please dni!!

your marriage was bland to say the least.

your husband was a busy man, working to provide for you to max out his credit card, but never giving a second of the day. he always blamed his lack of time at home on his job, never taking accountability.

you felt bored. he promised you a life of luxury with no work, but it was boring staying at home all day. weekly visits from cleaners to clean up the apartment gave you absolutely nothing to do at home.

but the longer your husband stayed away, the more time you spent listening in on your neighbors to past the time.

the milkman and his wife were a noisy couple.

you could hear the headboard thunking against the wall, his grunts and her awfully loud moans. he must be so good to her, you thought, feeling your fingers slip down your pj shorts.

you felt yourself passing the time, humping pillows, playing with toys and fucking yourself with your fingers. you could read every book in your apartment, watch tv for god knows how long and still be bored.

but one particular night, you heard a knock on your door.

you perked up, almost skipping to the door in excitement. you haven't had a visitor in ages and it was about time someone kept you some company in this little cage of yours.

"milk delivery." your eyes widened when you fully opened the door, realizing who was in front of you.

the buttons of his uniform were struggling to close, his hands veiny from his grip on the milk box he held in his arms against his stomach. seeing him this late at night was making you think of not so holy thoughts.

"what're you doing here so late? it's almost 9," you peered up at him, unaware of how your breasts nearly spilt out of your lingerie. you were wearing a skimpy little nightgown, forgetful of how you were married and half naked in front of another married man.

he smiled, placing the milk box beside your doorstep. "you're my last stop since we're neighbours. did i disturb you?" he crossed his arms, his biceps bulging.

you felt your heart beating out of your chest, you could feel your fingertips vibrating. "no, not at all..." you bit your lip, feeling your thighs clench tightly.

"i needed some milk for my tea. would you like some as well?" you worked up the courage to ask, looking at him with an expectant look in your eyes. "if you're not tired," you clarified, lifting your hands.

he didn't look like he took much time to think it over, nodding at your suggestion. you didn't wait for a verbal response, ushering him inside, locking the door.

now, here he was, sitting at your kitchen table while you made tea. if only you could see what he could see. the entirety of your back was exposed, a v-cut just above your ass to cover the rest of your lower half.

"chamomile or green tea?" you called out softly, snapping him out of his daze. you looked back at his lack of silence, looking at how flustered he looked for dozing off.

"green tea," he murmured, averting your gaze. he was so comically large, making your kitchen chair look small. his hands were gathered on his lap, his back straight against the backrest, waiting for you to finish making his tea.

you sauntered over to his, leaning your hip against the kitchen table. "n-nice place," he stuttered when he got a closer look of you, trying to break the silence.

you didn't expect him to come in, but now that he was here, you didn't want to waste this perfect opportunity. "mhm...i decorated it myself," you leaned closer, giving him an innocent smile.

"y...you're very good at decorating," he swallowed. his hands were sweating, he felt them grip at his slacks anxiously.

"isn't it so sad that my husband didn't help me decorate at all?" you pouted, puffing out your lower lip. his eyes switched back and forth from your eyes to your lips.

francis mirrored your nod, gulping when he realized how close you were. you placed a hand on his cheek, caressing it with your thumb. "you're very cute, francis," you chuckled as you pulled away.

you scurried away to turn off the stove, watching the water spill out of the kettle. when you reached your hand to grab the kettle, you felt a hand reach over yours to pull you back.

"careful, it's hot." he was pressed up against you, his painfully obvious bulge pressed against your ass. maybe it was because the only thing that was preventing your bare skin from touching his was his shirt, or how small you were compared to him, but he was literally shaking.

you spun around, hands now holding onto his sleeves. "help me onto the counter?" you looked up at him, slowly tugging him towards you.

francis was a loyal man. he was dedicated to his wife, to his work and to everything else. but however wrong he wanted to feel about lifting you onto the counter and smashing his lips onto yours, he just couldn't.

"so pretty," he mumbled against your lips, while your hands found themselves tangled in his brunette locks. "you're so pretty," he was almost whining, brows knit from the intensity of the kiss.

your other free hand cupped his cheek, dragging his even closer to deepen the kiss. his kisses felt even better than imagined. lips soft, tongue warm, sloppy.

you were scared that he would hear the way your heart thumping out of your chest. "f-francis," you'd pant, but he'd be too lost in the way your lips felt against yours to focus on anything else.

he'd pull away to just soak in the sight of you, admire the lips of the woman he just ruined. he'd look at you like you were the most precious thing in the world, watching the way you'd nuzzle against his hand when he wiped away his spit off your lip.

"are we stopping here?" you frowned with a huff, tugging on the loop of his belt. "or can i tip you, hm? for the delivery?" you pleaded, tilting you head to look cuter.

he fell for it, having no intentions of stopping. "yeah, yeah. tip me or whatever, just don't stopping kissing me," he pressed kisses up your neck trailing up to your cheek.

you wanted to chuckle at his neediness, but you were feeling the same. your arms wrapped around his neck, allowing him to effortlessly lift you into his arms.

while you two made out, he carried you to you and your husband's shared bedroom, laying you down. he toppled over you, knee nestled between your thighs and arms caging you in his hold.

"i wish you could see yourself right now," he pulled away, his hand trailing up to your chest. your nipples were poking through the thin fabric of your night gown, his fingers toying with the neglected nub.

you jolted, biting your lip to hide an embarrassing moan. "d-do i really look that pretty?" you hide a moan with a laugh, throwing your head to the side when he pinched your nipple lightly.

"you're gorgeous," he sighed, rolling his fingers under your gown to lift it off your body. you were more beautiful than he had even imagined, waiting so patiently for him to do something.

before he leaned down to kiss you again, you tugged at his shirt. "take this off? 's embarrassing being the only one naked," you blushed, his eyes widening.

for a married woman, you were surprisingly inexperienced. francis never heard you getting railed by your husband. he could only hear your pretty whimpers when you pleasured yourself with toys, but never finishing.

he could only chuckle, reminiscing your frustrated sighs when you couldn't get yourself to finish. he smirked knowing now he could take matters into his own hands.

"whatever you want, sweetheart," he effortlessly tugged at his bowtie, unbuttoning his shirt. he was so handsome. lean, but not entirely skinny. bulky, but not too much. he was perfect.

you wrapped your arms around his neck to press your lips against his. "you're so handsome, francis," you cooed. he felt his ears flush from your compliment, his knee riding higher up your thigh.

you moaned when you felt it reach your core, feeling yourself grind on it for more friction. "make me feel good, hm?" you flicked his loose hairs out of his face, making him bite his lip.

"want it inside, francie," your fingers trailed down to your pelvis, slightly opening your folds. his felt his dick throb, his eyes unmoving from your cunt.

almost immediately, he felt his dick throbbing against his suddenly too tight slacks. he grunted as he finally unzipped to let his cock free, his dick slapping against your tummy.

you gulped at the size, looking up at him in awe. "j-just the tip," he whined, his cock sliding against your stomach. a part of him still wanted to be somewhat loyal, but you so badly wanted him in you, your fingers wrapping around the head.

"you're so big," you gasped, your eyes were still widened. he could only rub himself against your fingertips, whimpering at the friction. "just the tip, hm?" you grabbed the head, dragging it down to your entrance.

when francis felt the warmth of your cunt against his cock, he was almost 100% sure his loyalty would be thrown out the window. "j-just the, hngh..."

he felt himself thrust into your wet, soppy cunt almost too quickly, completely devoid of reason. he was nestled so deeply into your core, allowing you to adjust to his massive length.

"i-i'm suhh...sorry, i said just the tip, but i...mnghh..." he could barely get a word out, too lost in the feeling of your tight cunt sucking his cock in. "y-you feel so, so good. it's so good, so..."

he was chanting it like a prayer, babbling whatever came to find. "francis, can you move?" you bluntly asked, guiding his hands to your waist.

almost like a switch, he thrusted into you wildly. his cock was reaching parts that you weren't even sure were possible to reach, especially with your husband's tiny, flimsy cock.

"am i making you f-feel good?" he asked, his lips just barely ghosting over yours. you felt his breath brushing against your face, the neediness evident on his face.

you nod, pressing a kiss on his lips. you moaned against his lips, feeling so full of him. "p-please say it. please say i'm making you feel good, ngh," he pleaded, pressing kisses against your neck.

your eyes were nearly rolling back, the entire galaxy filling your line of sight. "you make me feel so good, francis," you squealed when he hit a specific spot in you.

satisfied with your answer, his pace sped up. he was entirely bottomed out in your cunt, his pelvis pressing against yours.

you felt yourself getting close when his thumb trailed down to your pelvis to roll it against your weeping clit.

the squelches from him fucking you were so vulgar, it made you remember the sounds you heard when he fucked his wife. and finally you were living in the dream you so desperately wanted to come true.

"'m so, so close. m-might cum," you groaned, throwing your head back against the mattress.

he shook his head, feeling his hips stutter. "no, no. wait for me please. wanna cum together, hm?" he panted, mouth filled with saliva. he had grabbed your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, squeezing your hand tightly.

you could feel the coolness of his wedding ring against your fingers, making yourself get closer. you, a married woman, were fucking married man. the dirtiness of it all excited you so much.

here he was, the man you've been masturbating to for weeks, begging you to cum at the same time. "t-together, right?" he begged, his high coming so, so soon.

his thrusts were getting sloppy and your cunt was getting tighter. you nodded, his lips crashing onto yours, kissing you until you came together.

his cum spilled so deeply into your cunt, filling you generously. "you're so beautiful," he sighed, wiping the sweat soaked strands of hair off your forehead.

he just stayed inside of you for a few minutes, admiring you.

he'd tend to you right after. taking a bath with you, drying your hair for you, cooking you a meal. he did all the things you wished your husband would do for you.

and when it was finally time for him to leave, you'd be in bed sleepily, arms wrapped around his torso, head leaned against his chest. "don't leave," you whined.

he didn't want his wife to question why he came home so late, so staying the night was out of the question. "i'll be back again, okay?" he smoothed out your hair, patting your head.

"i'll be back here tomorrow same time with another delivery, hm?" he smiled, hugging you tightly. you were so cute when you were clingy and nearly asleep.

"i'll tip you again," you yawned, feeling your eyelids get heavier with every blink.

he placed you onto the bed, tucking you in well. he looked at you once more, brushing your hair out of your face. "sweet dreams," he whispered, pressing a kiss against your forehead.

you smiled as you drifted off to sleep, knowing he'd be there same time again tomorrow.

#francis mosses #francis mosses x reader #tnmn #tnmn milkman #milkman #that #that's not my neighbour #that's not my neighbor #thats not my neighbor #x reader #ncrescent asks

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running-with-kn1ves · 9 days

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Sleepy Afternoons

A/N: Teehee ngl I just wrote this as a period comfort fic indulgent for myself. I hope you nerds enjoy it as much as I liked writing it!

CW: AFAB reader on period, jokes of breeding, using a dragon as a heating pad, pretty much just fluff

WC:2000

Synopsis: A lazy Sunday, the perfect start to a week on your period where you'll be constantly pestered by your dragon boyfriend.

A dragon’s hoard in times long before consisted of fine jewels and immense mounds of gold, shiny objects as far as the eye could see. Whether it was stuffed in the depths of a cave or deep in the forest, a hoard barred spikes and “DO NOT ENTER” warnings; whether they were legible or not was never up to the righteous dragon’s responsibility.

Adventurers and bandits never heeded these signs of caution, getting stuck in the narrow holes meant for dragons to shimmy through or meeting their demise through puzzles and endless booby traps-- such monsters were thorough in keeping their treasure safe. Any item that caught the creatures attention could be found in their rich reservoirs, even if they were mere wave-smoothened stones from a lake, an old lover, or a prettily decked-out concubine that was too tempting not to take.

That however, was centuries ago. Dragons, like the rest of us, must conform to modern society, technology too powerful and people too abundant to go around flying and terrorizing just to get one’s hands on a pretty penny.

Your boyfriend, once a ravenous creature with a cave of glittering gems and fine craftsmanship-- that he may or may not have maimed many blacksmiths to steal-- now resided with you in too big of a bedroom. You had argued before buying the apartment; who would need this much space? But his hoarder tendencies clearly made up for the abundance in space. Gaming consoles, silvery granola bar wrappers, aluminum dollar store trinkets, books with glittery covers-- the floor was almost unseeable with his trash and treasure mixed together. He wasn’t necessarily dirty-- in fact every item had its own spot and preferred place, which is why it killed a piece of him any time you threw away something that should not be “decorating” your shared home.

Though as you practically took care of both of you, it was hard to keep up being the caregiver in the relationship. Especially, on your period. Sunday, what a perfect day, to realize you had a whole work week ahead of mood swings and lower abdominal pain, all mixed with the gory massacre you’d face every time you went to the bathroom. Your cramps didn’t usually come in this early of a start, but it seemed like nothing was going quite right today.

“T’s wrong, darlin’?” Your draconic, crusty-eyed boyfriend mumbled into your back. “Somethin’ hurting…?”

He had been asleep since noon, ignoring the stream of yellow shining down on him from between the cracks of the blinds. But with those poor eyes and slightly above average listening skills, he completely ignored the sun and heard your groans of pain as you curled into a ball. The aching in your lower tummy was like hellfire, crisp burning and somersaults of your organs unlike any other pain than usual. Nothing was helping, no cold rags or medicine, it was like your infinite headache and body pains were destined to consume you.

“C’mon baby answer me, I wanna help..” He pouted again.

“Just my stomach..” You downplayed, not sure if you could handle his frantic coddling if he realized you’re period started. The last time you made the mistake of doing so, you had pads stacked to the brim in your bathroom cabinets and tampons in your closets, the mass shoplifting endeavor of his creating even less space in your home. Well, atleast you were set for the next fifty-seven or so cycles.

“I just need to rest n’ I’ll be fine, soon…”

Another wave of pain came through, head ringing as soft nails raked up and down your sweating back.

‘When will this be over,’ you wondered.

Maybe that horrible breeding endeavor your boyfriend was always obsessed with was worth it if it meant you wouldn’t have to suffer through this for nine months. Yeah, just nine months of morning sickness and bloating and growing a whole dragon-human parasite inside of you. But hey… the making part wouldn’t be too bad, and atleast you would be crotch-pain free.

Man, now the pain was really talking through you.

“Yer period, right?” Your dragon wonders, scratching the back of his head. He’s more awake now, and you wish he was still passed out grabbing onto you, even through the sticky sweat from his body heat. “I’m sorry baby…I know it hurts. What’you want me to do?”

“How’d you even know..” You groan, almost annoyed at how keen he is. Next thing you’d know he’d be shoving some pretty pawn shop jewelry for you to hold to distract you from the pain.

“I don’t think.. You want to know. And well there’s the obvious, I noticed you changed the bed covers.”

Oh lord, was he talking about that split tongue-nose smell-ability ‘dragon thing’ again? Could your embarassment get any worse?

“Does that mean you’ve… EVERY TIME? Every time you knew?”

He sheepishly fell into the new sheets of warmth, those dark eyebrows lifted in innocence.

“Sometimes before you knew, I think.”

Officially, you wish your boyfriend was asleep again. Maybe you’d just strangle him to end this mind-numbing conversation.

“What can I do?” He repeated. “Get you more pads?”

“No.” You shut him down as soon as the words left his mouth.

“What then? A snack, more pillows? Now’s the time to be babied, you know. Unless you’d be okay with me coming to work with you--”

You groaned, partly to shut him up and to vocalize the squeezing, contracting inside of you.

His clawed fingers came to cradle your belly, right below your belly button on your pelvic muscle. He rubbed, just gently, back and forth with a slight pressure as your head buried into the sheets beneath you.

“Just this.. is fine..” You murmur, feeling hot, humid breath exhale against your neck, emerald green slits baring into your twisted expression. He was watching you, the way your body reacted, the little signals of discomfort.

You heard a slight flutter of his wings as they adjusted, his body fitting against yours like a puzzle piece; it was nice to be the small spoon again, rather than cradling your needy dragon lover like a cocoon as he so often desired.

The dragon slowly pushed a leg between your bunched knees that stuck together, getting easier access to your tummy. His palm was so warm, as the torso flushed behind you kept a reassuring prresence. You almost turned on your back to get his palm farther against your stomach, the slight pressure and warm temperature soothing the ache in your lower back and groin.

“You know… I could always breed ya, then you wouldn’t have to--”

“Don’t try to convince me right now.” you spat, turning into him as his hand worked magic, the other brushing hair off of your neck and cheek. “That’s not an option, especially right now.”

“Well, at the very least I can make you feel good. Might ease up some of the pain, yeah?” He laid back down to lean in closer.

You sighed; he clearly didn’t understand the discomfort and embarrassment that his oh-so keen intimacy would bring you right now. You loved the sentiment, and maybe you’d be up for it if you weren’t solely thinking about your physical misery, but you barely had the fortitude to look back toward him.

Your dragon buried his flared nose into the top of your head, lined against you like a perfectly shaped heat blanket.

“You wouldn’t even have to do anything.. I’ll do whatever makes ya feel better.” His other hand snakes beneath your hip against the bed mattress, pulling you back toward his body even closer, if possible. The warm, spiked fingers tapping alongside your pelvic bone made your skin spark, your lower stomach buzzing with numbed pain and a fullness that made you want to sleep for another week. “I don’t like seeing you like this.” He frowns. “Your face.. You look so, uncomfortable.”

“Wow, thanks.” You jab, feeling a heated tail slither up your knee, to your thigh. It almost flicked in apology. “Mm.. Just stay my heating pillow and I’ll be fine.”

“I can do that.” The confidence in his voice worries you, knowing he’ll do an unnecessary load of more than you asked for. Your fetal position was gently yanked free, a pounced creature on your back as you’re forced onto your stomach. “I’ll be the best spiky heating pad you’ve ever seen.”

The strong, scaled forearms of your draconic spouse come to wrap around your hips, a burning touch ringing from his skin, worming his way beneath your comfortable pajama pants and shirt, skin on skin as his body temperature rises to accommodate your desires. His forearms seem to ripple against you, fingers tickling your sides as his legs trap against your thighs from above, most if not every length of his body pulsating against yours like a live, scaly cocoon intent on making you his personal plush, and he your sweet, warm monster.

“Feel better baby…” He kissed at the nape of your neck, sandpapery forked tongue popping out to lick away your sweat. “It’ll be over soon.. I’ma make it all better.”

You leaned deeper into the stuffy mattress sheets, the pressure on your abdomen welcomly encouraged as you push as far as possible into his fiery hands.

“I’m betting on it.” You muffle into the pillows, squirming your hips against his his body, warm chest and carved quadriceps surrounding you. The slight pressure of his inner thighs against your hips was welcoming, his mounted position atop of you seemingly odd to an outsider-- but you didn’t care how weird it might’ve looked, as the calm of your gutted abdomen took over.

You yawned into the side of the pillow as you turned your head, lifting your hips just a little to soak in the heat radiating from behind you.

“Awe’d, so sleepy huh? Need a little nap?” the dragon behind you poked.

Who knew a murderous, millenium-old dragon would be sweet-talking you so gently-- just a few centuries ago he was murdering travelers for stumbling just a few steps too close to his prized hoard.

“But I just woke up.” You protest, upset at the sleepiness of the afternoon that was rubbing off from your draconic lover on you. “Got too much to do, can’t lay in bed all day..like you.”

You groan into the pillow as a wave of cramps hit you, only slightly set ajar by the gentle massaging of the skin above your pelvic bone.

“Hrmm.” Your boyfriend thinks, shoving his warmly snout against your neck. “I guess it’s unfortunate that I’m not going to be letting you go then. Not allowed to get up until you feel better.”

You laugh, taking one of your dragon’s toasty hands to your chest to hold onto.

“I’ll be here all week, then.”

It was here you felt the safest, the warmest, the most vulnerable and easily devourable-- well, thankfully dragon’s didn’t particularly have a taste for the flesh of humans. Shutting your eyes, you let the guttural ‘hrmm’s’ of your dragon lull you to thoughtlessness.

“If that’s what it takes..” He presses a deep kiss close to your forehead, relishing in the sweet scent of your hair. The huffs from his nose tickle the back of your ears, such petrichor warmth and humidity so reminiscent of past lazy mornings. “You’re not going anywhere, my diamond.”

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storiesforallfandoms · 1 month

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freedom ~ oberyn martell;game of thrones

part one

word count: 2608

request?: a single person asked if there would be a part two so yes?

description: in which she finally gets to enjoy her freedom with the man she loves

pairing: oberyn martell x female!reader

warnings: swearing, use of y/n, lil bit of dirty talk from oberyn teehee

masterlist (one, two, three)

The sun shining in through the open window stirred her from her sleep. She wasn't sure what time it was, but judging by how groggy she felt, she had definitely been asleep for a very long time. It was the first night since the evening before Joffrey's wedding that she had slept in an actual bed.

(Y/N) and Oberyn's plan had gone way better than she was expecting. She did as Oberyn told her and packed one bag of her most essential things. Oberyn had one of his men take it to the carriage so that non of Cersei's servants would catch (Y/N) doing it. She sat through the ceremony with the best fake smile pained on her face the entire time. The second the ceremony ended, (Y/N) slipped away while Cersei was distracted and they started their journey back to Dorne immediately.

It was a long journey spanning a number of days. They only stopped to rest a handful of times as Oberyn insisted on going for as long as the horses could stand so the risk of being caught by the Lannister men that Cersei was undoubtably going to send after them. (Y/N) was tense the entire time and wasn't able to relax until they reached Dorne.

Oberyn's brother, Prince Doran, was waiting for them when their carriage arrived. Oberyn had just stepped out when Doran said, "We received a message from King's Landing about the kidnapped Lannister girl."

"I kidnapped no one," Oberyn said. "She came with me willingly because she was being terribly abused by the Queen."

"The former Queen," (Y/N) corrected as she stepped out beside Oberyn. "Now that Joffrey is wed, Cersei is no longer Queen." She turned to Doran and curtsied. "My Lord."

Doran nodded in response. "Lady (Y/N). We hoped my brother wasn't so stupid as to kidnap a Lannister the day of the young kind's wedding."

"What Oberyn says is true. I have come with him of my own free will to escape my sister. She is claiming my capture so that y ou will send me back to her and will punish Oberyn so he cannot come for me again. I do not wish to go back, not ever. I will attest to this myself to my family back in King's Landing if you wish."

Doran looked between the two of them. He took a deep breath and said, "They will come."

"I will speak to them," (Y/N) insisted. "They cannot take me by force."

"They will not take her by force," Oberyn interjected.

Doran nodded. "I pledge my full support to you. I just hope you know what you are doing, brother."

Oberyn had brought her to a room that would be her own for the time being. He had promised her they would share a bed in due time, but he would not do so until they were properly courted. She would have argued further, but she was so tired and her body was aching from the long carriage ride, so all she wanted was to lay down in a soft bed.

Now that she was waking up from such a long slumber, it took a few moment for her to remember where she was. When she did remember, she smiled to herself. She was so giddy with happiness to finally be free and not feel so stuck and trapped in Westeros anymore.

A knock came at the door. She beckoned for them to come in, thinking (or rather hoping) that it was Oberyn. she was surprised when a lady she did not recognize stepped into her room.

"I am sorry for the intrusion, my lady," the woman said, bowing to (Y/N). "My name is Kenziah. I will be your handmaiden. I was told to come prepare you for a meeting in the Prince's throne room."

"Has something happened?" (Y/N) asked.

"Your father arrived early this morning, my lady. He requested a meeting with you and both Princes."

(Y/N) was quick to get out of bed and allow Kenziah to dress her. She tried to keep a brave face as she was led to Prince Doran's throne room. Doran was sat on his own throne while Oberyn was stood next to him. A tall figure was back on to (Y/N) as she walked in, but she didn't need him to turn around to recognize who it was.

Tywin Lannister looked down at his daughter as she entered the room. "My daughter, you have caused quite a disturbance."

"So I have heard," (Y/N) said. "I apologize if I disrupted Joffrey's wedding day. That was not my plan. Truthfully, I did not think Cersei would even notice my absence."

"You severely underestimate your sister then."

(Y/N) brushed past her father to stand next to Oberyn. She held her head high as she addressed Tywin, "I know what Cersei has tried to say about my disappearance. I am saying to you, father, that I willingly left with Oberyn to come to Dorne. I am not under any sort of duress, and I will not be returning to King's Landing with you."

Tywin raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?" (Y/N) nodded. "King Joffrey could order for your return."

"He would have to come take her himself," Doran cut in. "But he would have to go through the Dorne army."

"Are you threatening the king?" Tywin asked.

"No, I am protecting one of my own."

(Y/N) glanced between Tywin and Doran. Oberyn was silent beside her, but he had moved closer, protectively. For the first time in her life, (Y/N) actually felt cared for and safe.

Tywin's gaze moved to his daughter. "Is this truly your wish, my child? To stay in Dorne with the young prince?"

"I cannot go back to that palace, father. It was my prison, and I have finally escaped from it. I will not return to King's Landing willingly, and if you try to force me, I will fight back to the best of my abilities."

Tywin nodded. "I cannot force you to do anything against your will, (Y/N)."

"Will you tell Cersei that?"

To her surprise, Tywin nodded again. "If this is what you truly want, then no one else shall bother you while you're here."

(Y/N) bowed her head. "Thank you father."

Tywin paused a moment as he started to leave. (Y/N) wondered if he would say anything more. But he merely nodded to Doran and Oberyn before turning to leave the room. When he was gone, (Y/N) finally allowed her body to relax. Oberyn took her into his arms and kissed the top of her head.

"You are officially free, little lion."

~~~~~~

(Y/N) was sat in front of a mirror as Kenziah braided her hair. It had been a full day since she had arrived and she was already feeling more at home than she ever had in King's Landing. Oberyn had sent Dornish clothes for her to wear, and she was currently wearing one that was a similar color to the robe Oberyn had been wearing when they first met.

Now that she had been able to properly settle in after their long journey and Twyin's visit, Oberyn had called for (Y/N) to meet him outside of Water Gardens, their palace. She had a feeling she knew what this meeting was about, and the thought alone made her very giddy.

"You are trembling, my lady," Kenziah said. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, Kenziah, thank you," (Y/N) said. "I am just feeling nervous to see Oberyn is all."

"Nervous? But you seemed very fond of him before."

"I am fond of him! I guess nervous may be the wrong word. I feel a number of things about seeing him, because I know he will likely ask me to be his wife today. He said when we returned to Dorne that he would court me and make me his wife."

Kenziah smiled. "He does seem to feel very strongly for you, my lady. I see the way he looks at you."

(Y/N) smiled to herself as well. She had noticed the ways in which Oberyn looked at her, and every time it made her melt a little. She had never felt so infatuated with anyone before. The thought of being so close to him asking her to marry him made her insides feel fuzzy and warm.

When Kenziah finished braiding her hair, she placed a few flowers in the braids. "There, all finished."

(Y/N) moved to look at her hair in the mirror. She was almost surprised by the reflection looking back at her. She looked so beautiful, and she felt it, too. It was almost as if she was meant to be in Dorne, she just had to find a way to get there.

"Thank you, Kenziah," she said.

"You're welcome, my lady."

When she was sure she was ready, Kenziah brought (Y/N) to where Oberyn was waiting for her. He looked just as handsome as ever, almost glowing under the Dornish sun as he looked out at a pond below them. When she approached, he turned to her and smiled.

"You look beautiful, my little lion," he said. He took her hand in his and raised it to his lips, pressing a light kiss on her knuckles. It sent a spark through her entire body and made her hand feel like it was tingling.

"Thank you," she said. "I really love the clothes you sent for me. Dorian wear is so much nicer than what I had back in the palace."

"It suits you better, too. Like you were meant to wear it."

(Y/N) was smiling so much her cheeks were hurting. Oberyn beckoned for her to come closer. She did, moving as close to him as she could dare. She gasped when he put his hands on her hips and moved her so that she was stood right in front of him. His body was pressing against her backside, and she felt like she was weak in the knees from the feeling.

"I wanted to show you what I was looking at," he told her, his mouth dangerously close to her ear. He pointed towards the pond. "Just down there."

She was having a hard time concentrating on what it was he was trying to show her. His closeness was making her very dizzy. But she tried her best and managed to make her eyes focus on the pond. It was full of children, splashing around and laughing. She wasn't quite sure what he was trying to show her, until she spotted a familiar young girl with a head full of blonde hair.

She gasped. "Myrcella."

Myrcella was Cersei's middle child, and only daughter. Cersei adored Myrcella more than (Y/N) had seen her adore anyone in her life. When she had been sent away to Dorne to be a bride to Doran's son, Trystane, Cersei was practically inconsolable. It was the only time (Y/N) had ever seen weakness from her sister.

But Myrcella was also much different than her mother, or her older brother for that matter. She had a heart of gold and she cared very much for the people around her. That included (Y/N), much to Cersei's displeasure. (Y/N) loved her niece dearly. She had almost abandoned hope of ever seeing her again.

"She has been taken care of here," Oberyn assured (Y/N). "We will wait until she and my nephew come of age before they wed. Until then, she gets to live the life of a child."

"Why are you telling me this?" (Y/N) asked. While she was definitely glad to see her niece, this was not where she expected this conversation to go.

"She spoke very highly of you. Ever since she arrived, she has voiced how much she has missed her mother and her aunt. I can tell she is not like her mother, so I figured seeing her would be a welcome surprise."

With his hands still on her waist, Oberyn spun (Y/N) around so that she was facing him. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around his neck. Their bodies were still pressed so close together. (Y/N) found herself feeling something she had never felt before; a tingling sensation between her legs. Looking up into Oberyn's eyes, she wanted nothing more than to start kissing him, and to beg for him to touch her and make the feeling go away.

She had a feeling that he would know exactly how to pleasure her, and that thought made her feel even more weak.

"I want you to be happy here," he told her.

"I am happy," she assured him. "As long as I am with you, I can't be happier. You have saved me, Oberyn. Truly."

He smiled. "And I am glad that I have."

When he lowered his head towards her, (Y/N) wasted no time in closing the space between them. She kissed him so deeply that she made herself dizzy by doing it. His hands had moved from her waist to the small of her back, holding her to him. She could've stayed like this forever if that were possible.

When he broke away, she inadvertently let out a whine. He chuckled at her desperate sound. "I will kiss you as much as you wish, my little lion. But first, I do have a promise to keep."

He stepped away from her. Her body suddenly felt cold without him so close. He held her hands in his and looked deeply into her eyes as he spoke, "I told you that when we arrived to Dorne, I would properly court you and wed you. I believe I have successfully courted you already, so that just leaves us with one last step."

"Yes," (Y/N) blurted. Oberyn was amused by her outburst. "If it was not obvious, I very much want to marry you, Oberyn."

"I had a feeling," he teased. "I spoke with my brother already to get his blessing as well. We will have the wedding in a few days time."

"Can we do it now instead?"

Oberyn shook his head, an amused smile on his face. "My dear, sweet little lion. You must have patience. You must know what it takes to put a wedding together, especially one for people of royal blood such as us. Besides, I do not think you should wish to rush into marriage this quickly."

(Y/N) furrowed her brows at him. "Why?"

He stepped closer to her again. He leaned into her ear and dropped his voice to say, "Because once we are wed, I no longer have to worry about defiling your innocence. I may keep you in my bed for many days and nights before I decide to let you have a break from me, and even then I may only decide that because you are carrying my child."

(Y/N) stumbled a little and Oberyn was quick to catch her.

"You are mistaken, my love," she told him. "That only makes me wish for us to be married much sooner."

Oberyn cupped her face and pulled her for a kiss.

"I promise, my little lion, I will make the wait worth it," he said. "For now, you will just have to settle for stolen kisses."

"I will take anything as long as it is from you."

They kissed once more, and (Y/N) finally got to revel in the fact that she was finally getting her own happy ending.

#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell imagine #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #part two #one shot #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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cyberels · 3 months

Text

sunset//sunrise

𖦹彡⋆｡˚ wanted to write a lil smth about farm ellie x reader but like after ellie leaves for santa barbara so uhhh enjoy 🫶 reader is basically dina lol

(also it doesn’t match the aesthetic so i don’t wanna add the spotify thing but please listen to need 2 by pinegrove while u read teehee)

masterlist

PALESTINE MASTERPOST

HOW YOU CAN HELP

the sun was setting, lighting the sky up in an array of pretty colors.

if it had been a normal day, you’d be dragging ellie outside to look at the sky, taking in the view with her by your side.

but today wasn't normal and things hadn’t been for a long time.

today you were alone and the colors outside no longer held your interest.

you packed your belongings into one bag and took only the necessities, letting go of all that you’ve been holding on to for way too long.

you packed up ellie's belongings as well, arranging them neatly for her.

a polaroid picture you found on the dresser, a picture of you and her, made you pause for a moment.

if you could, you would go back to that day, go back and give her the colors in the sky if that's what she wanted.

if that could’ve made her stay.

now the sky was dark and it was much too late for that.

you leave the polaroid on top of ellie’s belongings, hoping it serves as a reminder of what she lost.

tomorrow you would wake up, soak in the sunrise by yourself, and try to find the peace you deserved.

and if ellie made it back, she could take her belongings.

you'd be okay either way.

#max writes ☆#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #the last of us #tlou #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #wlw #wlw angst #ellie williams angst #sorry if this is gross bad i havent wrote anything in a while

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souperbloom · 7 months

Note

Tours over!! We def need a blurb of the boys coming home. Preferably Ash I swear I’ve read everything written about Ashton :/

thank you for the request, friend! i do agree, we are in dire need of some Ash homecoming content. how about a smutty little reunion? ;0

hope you enjoy <3

————————

honey, i’m home! [A.I.]

🏠 i’m biased towards this photo because i was there, teehee

boyfriend!ash. a reunion, if you will. :)

after a long three months away on tour, your boyfriend Ashton finally comes home.

CONTENT WARNINGS: references to weed, suggestive language, pet names.

WORDCOUNT: 1.9k

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Today was the day.

After three months of an empty couch, an unraided fridge, and the divot on the right side of your mattress growing cold, your boyfriend Ashton was finally coming home.

Today was the fuckin’ day.

You sat on the edge of your seat, literally, barely taking up any space on the couch cushions. Your feet were bolted to the floor, practically ready to blast off into space.

Or, to jump up and greet him.

You’d check your phone every now and then, watching the hours tick by growing later and later, and occasionally seeing your lover’s name light up the screen.

There have been a few updates on his ETA, random photos from his camera roll of the two of you, and even some mindless, lovesick babbling. Rambling on about how much he missed you and ‘couldn’t wait to come home to see your sweet face.’

Each time his name popped up, you’d smile; feeling nothing short of a kid in a candy store. You couldn’t wait to see the look on his face not only after seeing you, but after seeing what you had planned.

You had decided to make Ashton’s homecoming an event, of sorts. A dreamy date night filled with all of his favorite things that you were sure he was missing.

And, of course, being that you knew him better than anyone in this world, you made sure to think of everything.

A fresh bouquet of daisies on the kitchen table, straight from his favorite farmer’s market. A joint, rolled with love, for the two of you to share and smoke out on your balcony. A fridge stocked full of his favorite snacks and foods.

And lastly, the pièce de résistance of it all.

A few days prior, you had gone out shopping on your own at the little boutiques down on Rodeo. You found yourself wandering into a quaint lingerie shop, only to walk out with the most beautiful, most expensive, two-piece set that ever graced their mannequins.

It was an emerald green two-piece, covered in floral lace and complete with its own matching silk slip. You thought it was perfect for the comfortable, homesick-curing aura you were trying to create around you and Ashton’s home.

And green is Ashton’s favorite color, after all.

After a few more moments of quiet, the mellow sounds of classic rock streaming softly out of your speaker, your phone lights up.

ASHTON ❥:

Be home in 5. Love you so much.

Can’t wait 2 see you. xo

It took everything in you not to let out a piercingly loud girlish squeal, rocking back and forth on the couch and clutching your phone like it was just going to just fly right out of your hands. But you didn’t want risk your neighbors thinking you were being attacked—

You didn’t want a repeat of the last time Ashton made you scream.

With Ashton’s messages still shining on your screen, you toss your phone to the side. You decide to stand up from your permanent spot on the couch, and do one last run around of the house to make sure everything was perfect, and in order.

The flowers were still on the kitchen table, yes. The sweets and fresh fruits were all still in the fridge, right where you had left them. Your bed was still made, thank God, and the stick of incense you had lit still had about an hour of life left in it.

Safe to say, everything you had thought of was perfect.

As you walk through the halls of your spacious, yet lived in home, you hear a familiar sound.

A click.

Then, another.

A squeak.

And one last sound that made your heart start to flutter.

"Honey, I’m home!"

Without a second to think, you’re rushing towards the front door. Your socked feet padded along the hardwood floors as you ran, cutting corners and slipping along.

"Baby? I hear you…"

The sweet sound of his voice grew louder, your heart just ready to burst and pop out of your throat into fireworks. You round the corner to the foyer—

And there he was.

"Ashton!" You gleam, finally seeing him for the first time since he had started his journey out of the country and across the world.

He sported unkempt, overgrown curls and a black trench coat, that was tugged off slightly from the heavy duffle bags that sat on his broad shoulders.

It was almost impossible for you not to swoon.

You barrel past his bags as he drops them on the floor, jumping into his arms and practically lifting yourself off of the ground.

"Hi, sweetheart," he hums into your ear with a voice like honey, as your body clings onto his, "I missed you so fuckin’ much."

He holds you tightly, his cologne hitting your nose almost instantly with the way you had your face buried in the crook of his neck.

"I missed you more, baby— fuck— I missed you." Your words are slightly muffled by the material of his coat, not long before he’s pulling away from the hug to get a better look at you.

"Look at you. Fuckin’ look at my girl. Thought I was dreaming when I saw this sweet face again," he trails off, letting his eyes linger behind your head to admire all of the little sweet nothings you had prepared for him, "Is this all for me?"

"Mhm, it is. You are definitely not dreaming," you hum, proudly.

Ashton pulls you in for one last squeeze, then places a sloppy kiss upon your lips.

"I am the luckiest guy in the world," he sighs, adjusting his arms around you, "Think I gotta get a better look at all the stuff my girl did f’me."

"Come in, stay a while." You try your hand at biting back a smile as you pull away from him, but can’t seem to contain the elated expression plastered on your face.

He shrugs off his coat, hanging it on the hook next to yours. Inhaling deeply, he smiles, "Do I smell Paolo Santo?"

"Mhmmm." Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth, with your arms behind your back as you swing impatiently from side to side.

"Good choice," he nods.

"Your favorite."

With all of his bags now on the floor, and his Doc Martens still laced to his ankles, he quietly steps through the foyer to the kitchen. You watch from behind him through adoring eyes, loving every second of watching him discover each and every little detail.

"Daisies—?" He tosses you a sweet look over his shoulder, but stops in his tracks as his eyes meet yours.

He scans down your frame, finally taking in what you had been waiting for. The emerald green silk slip, in all of its glory.

"Holy shit—" he stops himself again, turning all the way around to face you.

"Well, whatdaya’ think of my outfit?" You ask, fanning out your hands and showing off the full extent of the dress and all of its means of hugging your curves.

His jaw hangs open slightly, before he crosses his arms over his chest. That expression of shock melts into a cheeky smile.

"Honestly, now I’m thinking about what it’s gonna look like on the floor."

He starts to walk towards you, his taller frame looming over you as you tilt your head to look at him with a pout.

"On the floor, Ash? This was expensive!"

When his hands find your waist, you freeze. His fingertips dance along the silky materiel that dressed your hips, pulling you into him.

"Money can buy you a new one, sweetheart. But— I’m afraid no money can buy how much I’ve been missing you."

Your lips push to the side, now feeling slightly electric at the feeling of his gentle touch.

"Didn’t know you missed me that much."

"No?" He quips, "Well then why don’t I show you? Show you just how much I’ve been missin’ ya."

Something inside of you snaps, the twinkle in his eyes making you giddy— you reach out to him, slithering your arms around his neck to pull him into you.

When his lips land on yours you sigh, like a forty pound weight being lifted off of your shoulders. You missed the sweetness of his kiss; the taste of his lips, and tongue on yours.

You were a puzzle that had found its missing piece. Whole again.

Ashton’s hands travel down your sides, greedily wandering across each and every part of you that he had been deprived of in the last three months.

The promise ring you had gifted him right before he left was now right back to its rightful owner, scorching your flesh in all of the places you had been dying for him to touch. To see. To have again.

His hands had now found their way to your ass, making you shiver.

"Jump." He mumbles messily into your lips.

You oblige, jumping up and locking your ankles around the small of his back.

As the kiss between you grows hungry, Ashton starts to move you. He walks you past the threshold of the kitchen, and over to the island.

You had already started to feel that familiar, swirling feeling you get whenever he’s around you; let alone the feelings that came with him so effortlessly picking you up and walking around the house with you in his arms.

He releases your lips, brushing his nose against yours as he he starts to walk the both of you closer to the marble countertop.

"I’ve been waitin’ so long to take care of you properly, sweetheart— But at this rate, I don’t think I’ll be able to make it t’ the bedroom."

As he speaks, he lowers you gently onto the cool marble. You let out a giggle at his eagerness. "I don’t mind, baby. You can have me anytime, any place. I’m all yours."

His hands find your waist again, sliding you forward into his hips. He knocks his forehead against your own, before granting you a quick kiss.

"You’re all mine?" He asks again, as if your words of confirmation weren’t enough for him the first time.

"Yes, Ash. I’m all yours."

His lips find their way to your jaw, starting a trail of gentle kisses down towards the nape of your neck. He stays there for a moment, tenderly nipping at the fragile flesh.

"’Don’t know who I bribed in heaven to get sent down an angel as perfect as you— ‘Don’t know how I got so lucky..."

He kisses your neck again as your hands get lost in his lush curls. You can’t help but tug down on them, just the way he likes it.

With one final kiss at your collarbone, he pops his head back up to meet you. But as he makes his way up, something on the counter catches his eye.

His eyebrow quirks, as he reaches behind you and picks up the joint you had rolled for him.

"Now, what’s all this?" He asks, waving the pre-roll in front of your face with a mischievous smirk.

"Just a little somethin’ special," you grin, your tongue darting out to wet your bottom lip, "But we can worry about that later…"

He lets out a breathy laugh, putting the joint down in it’s spot the counter and reaching back up to cup your cheeks with his blistered, earthy palms.

"You really thought of everything didn’t you— my sweet girl."

Your cheeks tinge pink, unable to control your urges as you plant another big kiss onto his soft lips.

"Welcome home, Ashton."

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

#soupster requests #ashton irwin smut #ashton irwin #5sos #5sos fanfic #ashton irwin fanfic #request

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sserajeans · 1 year

Text

i think i kinda, you know?

kang haerin x 6th member!reader

synopsis: it was just shopping. a convenience store run at 3am because the members were hungry. but haerin found herself in a moment of realization.

others + genre: haey/n is a secret, y/n usually initiates affection, y/n is a '05 liner older than dani, FIRST I LOVE YOUs?? + fluff

notes: HSMTMTS REFERENCE!!! if u get it, i love u. this is my first work so idk if i did well in portraying emotion and character... i also had a very hard time picking pics for the row above BUT ANW i hope yall enjoy teehee..

"i'm hungry.."

"me too.."

"three.."

"i could go out and buy some snacks?" you suggested as you stood up from the floor where you were previously helping hyein decorate her journal. "just text me anything specific that you guys want!"

"you are not going out alone at this time." minji looked up from where she sat, her words stood firm, but not too harsh. you didn't argue either, it was 3am, not the best time to be out alone, and you knew better than to argue with minji.

"i can go with." the members who were actually listening (narrowing it down to just the oldest 3) shared a puzzled look between each other before raising their eyebrows at haerin who had just spoken.

after all, she has always been the type to prefer staying in whenever she can.

you didn't take long to grab your wallet and jacket before slipping your favorite sneakers on, haerin following suit. minutes later the two of you stood on the sidewalk outside the dorms.

"you didn't have to, you know?" the both of you started walking along the path on the way to the nearest 7/11; your pinkies naturally finding their way to each other. it was a habit that started during hanni's birthday live. the both of you felt clingier than usual that day so you came up with the "lowkey" solution. smiles covered both your faces; every moment alone was just so precious.

"i know." haerin glanced at you, then your intertwined pinkies before shrugging. "i wanted to."

you chuckled, partly wanting to make fun of your girlfriend for such a line, but partly fighting the blush that seemed to spread through your ears.

you did Not win that fight.

suddenly the touch of haerin's pinky finger had disappeared. you looked up in confusion before realizing she had already rushed into the 7/11 right in front of you.

god she was just so distracting that way.

haerin walked over to the aisles to grab danielle and hyein's snacks, while you stood across her reaching for bags of chips and bread minji and hanni had asked you to buy.

haerin soon hovered beside you with snacks in her arms. leaning right and left, she took a peek over your shoulder, through which she found out you were panicking over which bread to buy for hanni who wasn't responding to your spam of texts.

glancing between you and your phone, another smile found its way to haerin's face as she realized you still hadn't realized her standing behind you.

she looked down at the basket on the floor, easily pinpointing which snacks belonged to which member, then spotted one she didn't remember any of her members asking for.

it was a favorite of hers. a favorite of yours as well. one the two of you would always share with each other, ever since your trainee days. you both haven't had it in a while, but it was clear to her that one of you definitely hasn't forgotten.

and the smile on her face grew even wider.

she remembers...

"oh hey! sorry didn't see you there." you finally shoved your phone in one of the pockets of your jacket before picking out 2 pieces of a specific type of bread. haerin assumed you finally got a reply from hanni.

she just... pays attention to the smallest things...

"ready to check out?"

haerin nodded and handed you the items she got for the other members.

her smile didn't go unnoticed of course, nothing ever does when it came to the two of you. as you reached over to pay with your card and to arrange the items in a tote bag, you caught on to her unusually joyful expression. "someone's really happy, huh?"

how did i get so lucky...

"shut it." you laughed at the playful glare she shot, and led you two to a bench a few meters away from the store, wanting a quick break before you started walking again. but you both knew damn well you just didn't want that moment to end.

and that was fine because haerin didn't want it to end either.

as soon as you two sat, you reached for a different snack you got for yourself, leaving haerin slightly confused.

i thought the other one was her favorite?

the stars seemed to shine unusually bright that night, something you both enjoyed.

and haerin blamed that as a reason for not being able to take her eyes off you because it was so much easier than thinking of why there was something different about you that night.

something about how the moon lit your face, or the way your jacket's hood had ruffled the top of your hair a bit. maybe it was how the glasses you had on, instead of the usual contacts, framed your face a lot better.

but hell it could even be how you put so much thought into the smallest things like snack buying. or even the fact you chose to eat a different snack after whispering "haerin might want this" thinking only you could hear it and she couldn't because you wanted to share that certain snack with her.

it was an endless list that haerin called herself so cliche for even thinking about, but she couldn't stop. she couldn't just tell her brain to stop thinking about all the little things she loved about you.

but wait.

that's exactly it.

"seriously what's up with you tonight?" you finally spoke before pulling a joke in case you sounded too serious. the last thing you wanted was to come off as rude. "you can stare but it's creepy sometimes you know."

oh the blush. that god damn blush haerin hated so much. the blush that made her easier to read than she already was for you.

"i'm kidding you could never be creepy. you're way too cute for that."

"i..." she started, her tone so soft you scooted closer just to hear. she definitely didn't do that on purpose. "i think i..."

you moved your left arm to lay over her shoulders, providing a warmth she couldn't ignore. your eyes looked so patient, and it only made it harder for her to look at you directly.

god, why is she making this so hard...

yet she didn't understand why it was so hard. she was most comfortable around you. when it came to conversations it would always be her talking, an achievement she had no idea how you unlocked. she couldn't shut up with you and could never shut up about you.

then why is it so difficult for her to just say it?

"i think i kinda.." haerin spoke again, a little bit louder this time. she found the playground in front of them conveniently interesting, her eyes locked on a swing. "you know?"

"i really really don't." but the truth is you did. you always do. the light smirk on your face confirmed it too. haerin was a book you could just read so easily.

well that, and the two knew exactly what haerin was referencing.

a line from a show danielle and hanni forced them to watch; something about high school musical but turned into another musical for a series? it was a title you both needed to wrap your head around.

but i think i kinda, you know.

it was a phrase you remembered because it was what the two leads used to confess their love for each other at different times. both not ready to admit such a strong emotion to themselves.

"i think i kinda you know." she said in a more firm tone this time.

you gave her a fake and exaggerated look of confusion, resting your chin on your hand as you looked up at the sky. "i wonder what that means!"

haerin jokingly glared before leaning her head on your shoulder. "you know exactly what i meant."

you chuckled once more, a sound haerin could never get sick of, and delivered a brief kiss on top of her head.

"i think i kinda you know too. should we head home now?"

"can we stay for a while?"

"maybe a few more minutes. minji-unnie will kil- oh speak of the devil..." you held up your phone and showed her the contact name displayed on the screen.

"she's killing you, you're older and supposed to be taking care of me."

"BUT I AM!" you argued before answering the call, a giggling haerin leaning against you.

"y/l/n y/n. if you don't get back in 5 minutes with haerin i swear to god..."

"ahaha... coming unnie..."

you ended the call as soon as you responded before jumping up. the two of you started sprinting, hands intertwined with laughs thrown in the air, maybe a couple of "it was your fault!" lines exchanged in the middle.

it was another night to remember, and not just because minji was ready to yell at you both individually (hanni and danielle ready for interrogation) when you came back.

note: someone's getting their asses beat..... pls feel free to request prompts with other members/idols on my pinned!!

#kang haerin x reader #haerin x reader #newjeans x reader #newjeans imagines #haerin imagines #kang haerin imagines #i need sm1 to look at me the way haerin looks at y/n here...#kinda made me feel single i hope it does the same to yall too!#girlgroup imagines #ren writing debut #im just adding tags as we go

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moonknightshifts13 · 6 months

Text

Fell Out of Love? (Part Two)

Pre-Marriage Steven Grant + Jake Lockley + Marc Spector x gender-neutral reader (Angst)

note: here's part two to my previous story teehee. very sad- maybe lol. Thank you sm for 50 likes so far in total! I'm very thankful and I hope you guys continue to support me! love you lots and I hope you enjoy this one! (also, the point of view switches a lot from first person to third person so I apologize for it!)

It’s been a few harsh months since Jake announced that Steven didn’t want to get married to me. I never questioned him after the sudden outburst…although I did have many questions. I went by the flat once I knew they wouldn’t be home. I’ve been wanting to text Steven and ask if he meant it- but he did, didn’t he? Why would Jake lie to me about something that serious? He wouldn’t lie to me about it. He knows that Steven and I love each other dearly.

I’m on my way to a small cafe shop after getting out of work a bit later than usual. Upon arriving, I notice that there is a long line and I still stand in it. A couple of minutes pass by and the line moves up more quickly. Eventually, it’s my turn and I order my latte. I pay and I go to the side to wait for my order to be called. My order is eventually called and I go for it until I hear the barista say someone’s name.

“Order for Steven Grant!”

I hear his name and I freeze in my steps, too scared to look behind me. I’m holding onto my latte and before I know it, I hear his voice.

“Yes, that’s me- um thank you. Oh, excuse m-”

Steven’s sentence is cut short as he sees me just frozen there. I make eye contact and I realize something. It’s not Steven, but Marc imitating Steven. I just stare at him and he stares at me, both of us realizing that we’re literally just..there. I blink and I quickly look down as I exit the cafe. I hear footsteps behind me and my name being called out.

“Y/N wait-”

Marc says softly and my body involuntarily stops. I feel my breath quickening and I’m scared. What’s he going to say? Is he going to want me back? Is he going to tell me about the new girl he’s in love wit-

“y/n?”

Marc says softly and more faintly now. I turn around and I look at Marc. Oh, my precious Marc. My precious Jake….my precious Steven. I just stare at Marc, and I don’t say anything. My mind still going crazy as I finally see my fiancé- well ex-fiancé in front of me after all these months. Marc looks at me with soft eyes and he reaches a hand out to me, but I move back a bit.

“y/n-”

“Why?”

I say sternly and this catches Marc off guard.

“What?”

“Why? Why wasn’t I good enough for Steven? For Jake- for you? Just…just tell me why and I won’t bother you again”

I say faintly and scared, not wanting to know the true answer. Marc just stares at me, not knowing what to say because what can he say? He wasn’t the one who ended things. It was Jake and Jake did it to protect his brothers…in some way. Marc didn’t want to end things with them. Marc and Steven were in love- they are in love with them, how could they ever end things with them? They’re sweet, wonderful, kind, caring partner? They are the world to them. Marc stares at me and he just looks at me.

“You are good enough for us, y/n. I promise. We didn’t end things with you-”

Marc’s sentence is cut off as Jake takes over the body naturally but I don’t notice it at first. Jake grips his drink a bit tightly and stares at me. Marc yelling at Jake, demanding to know why Jake took over the body and what he was going to say. I finally recognize that it’s Jake in front of me and I open my mouth to say something but Jake speaks.

“Lose our number, okay? We found someone better. I’m sorry”

Jake says and I feel my heart break even more than it did the night ‘Steven’ proclaimed to end the marriage.

“Jake- you don’t mean that. What was Marc saying? Please-”

“It doesn’t matter, okay? We found someone better and we’re very happy, so- lose our number and stop bothering us.”

I feel myself get teary eyed and I just nod softly. I clench onto my latte, and I turn away from Jake, walking away from them. From us. Jake stares at me as I walk away, and he can hear Marc screaming at him. Another opportunity where things could’ve gotten fixed was not ultimately broken. Jake broke every chance they had to fix his mistake. Marc wouldn’t ever let this slide from Jake, now knowing that Jake was really the one to end things with Y/N. After all this time, Jake just wanted quiet and peace from a hectic life hence why he ended things with Y/N and Steven. It was to protect his brother’s heart but to also keep the peace between them all. Marc swore on his life that he would never front until the day that I came back or the day that Jake would apologize to me for everything. Jake knew that day wouldn’t come so he accepted the quiet in his mind. Oh, how the peace and quiet in his mind was slowly killing him as he accepted that he was finally alone…just not in the way that he wanted to be. His brothers long gone and now…you were gone too.

#moon knight #moon knight fanfic #moon knight x reader #steven grant x reader #moon knigh angst #angst #not a happy ending lol

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yourboopyboop · 24 days

Text

FANGS AND BULLETS

A very dissatisfied y/n leaves their army to join KorTac, with plenty of operators around to meet and connect, she finds herself dragged around with the battering ram of the group, König.

Check the end of the post for more information.

Stepping out of the damn office was just as hard as joining the KorTac forces. It wasn't like you were a weak operator, or that you had no value. It was the sheer pressure of being in those installations what made you shiver. Yet, you were accepted by them. Never knew how they found you, or why they reached. But you hated the army you served, and the deal was too good to let it slide. You just had to fake your death. And so you did, on a normal deployment on Iraq. Nothing too flashy, just another pawn with a name on it that fell in the hellfire of those lands. And now there you were, nervously rushing your steps towards what was supposed to be your new room. After years of sharing a bunk with your mates, you finally got four grey walls to give you privacy. The hallway was illuminated by long lights on the ceiling, it was unusually well kept, although a little sad in color, the walls seemed thick enough- Bump

"Oh, sorry!" Took you a little bit to realize that you had not bumped into one of those walls, but against a broad and geared chest. "N-no...it's my bad, I wasn't looking-" Oh The voice you had heard first did not fit the man that towered you like a Gulliver. And it did not fit the ragged and loose mask that covered his face, only blue-grey eyes piercing through it. He shook it off with a anxious laugh. "You must be the new operator! Heard a bit from my freund Horangi." Was he leaning away? You took a step to give both of you some space. "Yeah just got out of the main office... got the keys for the room... 023?" The man tilted his head. "023? That's close to Valeria's, I could take you there, if you wish." What kind of gentle giant was this? It didn't fit well with that hood and that build... yet you nodded. "I would really appreciate that, thank you." The walk was in utter silence. None of you talked, he seemed too closed to even try to start a conversation, and you were still too nervous and hyper-aware of your surroundings. Trying to take in as much as information as possible, memorizing the route back to the office. You spotted some signs that opened up to spaces such as a common room, some showers, and the meal hall. "This should be it, Valeria's 025, couple of doors to your right." You nodded in response, fidgeting with the keycard before swiping it on the pad that locked the door. "T-thanks..." When you turned around to thank him again, he had already vanished.

This is a TEASER, a prologue of some idea I had in the back of my mind. It will have some TW, to be specified in each chapter depending on the content (expect military inaccuracies and all of those tiny little mistakes we make teehee). It is female-focused, this means the MC, or y/n will mostly be represented by she/her pronouns. Many of the characters that will be named on this work are part of the actual KorTac group in the MW games.

Hope you all enjoy this little introductory bit (I know it's short), have some patience and I'll steadily update it 🫡

#könig x reader #konig x reader #cod x reader

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ithaquakisser · 1 year

Note

It took me hours to think but What if WHAHJA E Ithaqua X reader fic where the reader had a nightmare n he comforts or smth 😭

I don’t mind if it’s established relationship or friends to lovers or Can be interpreted platonic or romantic Btw! :3

Teehee⭐️

With You

Synopsis; Ithaqua comforts you after a nightmare.

CW; Asphyxiation, depictions of anxiety

WC; ≈893

Note; I had a hard time writing this one because I was suddenly hit with writer's block. This is a short piece I hope this is okay! Enjoy! 🫶

These endless nights of terror were everlasting.

You huffed and puffed as you sprinted down the seemingly everlasting halls of the manor. An ominous figure stalked after each step you took, leering through the halls. Its face appeared to be distorted, incomprehensible. Piercing silver orbs burnt into the back of your head, leering over you. Exuding feelings of disconcertment as it stared straight through you, long, slender arms reaching out to you as if it yearned for an embrace.

Your heart hammered vigorously against the confines of your ribcage as you panted heavily. You dare not look back. Not even once. The figure called out your name repeatedly, low groans emitting from it as it spoke your name like a chant. “...Y/N…” The tall silhouette croaked. You halted in your tracks, your heart skipping a beat, for you could not bring yourself to move a single limb.

Adrenaline coursed through your veins, your heartbeat battered rapidly in your ears. Your breathing became labored as your heart threatened to burst out of your chest. The willowy figure approached you and towered over your small frame. Its eyes peering into yours, lengthy and slender fingers enveloping your neck. Tears of dread streamed down your face as the figure sunk its nails into your throat. You cried for help, unable to utter a single word. You gasped for air, struggling under the grasp of the towering silhouette.

You tightly squeezed your eyes shut whilst you wept, the inky silhouette pressed down onto your throat and tightened its grasp. You choked out pitiful attempts of cries, struggling under its grip. “Help… Me…” You yawped, gasping for the slightest bit of air. Hot tears spilled from the corners of your eyes and you pleaded. Slim fingers tightly wrapped around your throat only grew tighter with each passing moment, you cried and begged pathetically.

You awoke with a gasp to a sweet, gentle nudge and the serene voice of your lover. With a hand on your chest, you panted. Your flushed face was soaked with salty teardrops. Ithaqua tenderly wiped away your tears with the pad of his thumb as you sobbed. “Y/N… breathe.” He whispered as he sat beside you, offering his hand out to you.

You took in a deep breath as you hesitantly placed your hand over his, you fixed your e/c eyes on his next move. Gently, he ran his thumb over the palm of your hand. He traced miscellaneous symbols for a brief amount of time. With time, your breathing slowed. Your heart meeting with peace once more. His almond-shaped eyes locked with yours, his lips curling into a fond smile.

“Do you feel my touch?” Asked the hunter. You nodded in response as he traced hearts on your hand. “Good.” He murmured. “Your hands are cold…” You remarked. His face shone a faint scarlet hue upon your remark as he averted his eyes from yours. “I should be the one protesting. You woke me up after all.”

“How so?” “You kicked me. Twice.” He deadpanned. “S...Sorry…” You muttered, lowering your head in shame. Ithaqua placed a hand on your cheek and traced a line along your cheekbone, his eyes fixated on yours as he lifted your chin. “Don’t apologize.” “I disturbed you though…” “Don’t you fret. There is no need to. What matters is that you’re okay.” He reassured, placing a tender kiss on your forehead.

Both of your hands intertwined, his onyx eyes glistened under the moonlight as he proceeded to trace the stars on your palm. His soothing touch brought peace to your heart as you began to relax. “I too was tormented by night terrors when I was a child.” He spoke, lowering his gaze. “As a way to calm me down, mother would take my small hands into hers and caress them.”

"It'd... always calm me down. The moment she took my hands into hers, I felt at ease." His eyes linked with yours as he raised your hand to his lips, gently placing a kiss on your knuckle. "Your mother certainly is an angel." The hunter smiled sweetly as he held your hand in his. "She was... Definitely." He murmured. "How are you feeling?"

"A lot more at ease." You replied breathily. "I mustn't stay here for too long. I'm certain you'd be reprimanded for having me here." "The baron does not need to know. After all, it's merely one night." Ithaqua replied as he pulled you into a warm embrace. You melted into his touch and rested your head on his chest. The soothing sound of his heartbeat echoed into your ears, pounding in serenity against his chest under your presence.

"Would it be okay of me to stay the night?" You questioned, furrowing your eyebrows in worry. "There's no need to fret. You were planning to after all were you not? You had fallen asleep prior." You let out a sigh as you proceeded to wrap your arms around his waist. "I suppose you are right..."

"Will you be alright?" Inquired Ithaqua as he ran a hand through your hair, twirling a strand between his fingers. "With you here, I'll always be okay." The male beamed in response, lightly resting his chin on your head as he held you in his arms. Rays of moonlight shone upon the two of you as you slipped into slumber.

"Rest well, Y/N."

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deva-arts · 3 days

Note

Has Vincent ever truly broken down and admitted to having real feelings? Every facade's gotta crack at some point.

Vincent likes to pretend he's uncaring and unempathetic (especially regarding Sera,) but he's surprisingly protective of others, regardless of who they are.

...

...In his own way, of course.

Teehee so I wrote something about this um I never post any written oc stuff so enjoy

Sunlight wafts through the curtains where the couple lay peacefully atop the bed. Nathaniel was finally home from a long shift at the medbay, and Seraphina had decided to take a break from tuning her weapons to stay with him for the day. Birdsong filled the room, and they savored the soft, sleepy embrace they were in; life pried them apart far too much to be wasteful with quiet moments.

Nathaniel pulls her a bit closer, then freezes, mental gears whirring. Seraphina noted the pause right away.

She pries her eyes open to squint at him. “What’s wrong.”

He still has the face on- the face that says he is trying to understand something absurd yet concerning. “I-…” As if trying to prove himself wrong, he feels for her ribs again over her shirt, following the curve as his hands enveloped her torso. Oddly enough, he even motioned to count each one, only to halt in yet another worried pause, lips pressed into a thin line.

Seraphina quietly observed him, raising an eyebrow. “…Hugs exist, Nathaniel. No need to reinvent the wheel with whatever this is."

Nathaniel stops, nonplussed, then he breaks into laughter, forgetting his previous alarm. Success. "Hah... Ahah.. No, it isn’t that…” His face falls back into a placid smile, and he pulls his hands away to sit up beside her.

Blast it all.

“It’s just that… Something is-“ He makes a vague motion with his hands. “-Different with your bone structure, but I wouldn’t be able to tell just what without proper scans.”

She blinked, sitting up to meet his expression. Were they really going to talk about this now? “Ah. Well that was kind of obvious, wasn’t it? I wouldn’t be able to function if I were a normal human with wings slapped on me.” …Was that wrong? Did he have some odd hope dashed regarding her skeleton of all things? Was he weirdly fascinated about skeletons???

He gave her a concerned, humorless grin. “I know that… But… Ser…”

Seriously? He was weirdly fascinated about skeletons?

Seraphina was unimpressed. “I fail to see how this is important at the moment, Nathaniel.” And right when they got some quality time...

Nathaniel didn’t respond. He looked away, his expression unreadable while he softly wrung his hands in thought. …She never liked when he got quiet like this. It always tugged her heart wrong.

Well, whatever it was, it was certainly worrying him to this point. Might as well hear him out. Sera gave his shoulder a light squeeze in an effort to be consolatory. This usually helped, right?

“… I was being... Harsh. What’s wrong, Liebe?”

Nathaniel hugs an arm around her shoulders, keeping her close by. So it’s a hug that works in this situation. Duly noted. She hugs him back, sweeping a wing over his shoulders.

He hums. “I…I don’t think I could practice on you and your brother with the same confidence as before.” He pauses. “All this time, I’ve been working under the assumption that you were just atypicals... But… No common atypicals have genetic variations that run that deep. They usually follow similar ‘rules’, so to speak.”

He drops his gaze to look at her. “I don't know how I've missed this, but I found something entirely different with a cursory check. Which means that I was operating on you with no clue about your bodily composition. All this time.” …Oh. Nathaniel remains ever pensive, even a little guilty.

…That...

"It also means that you've got a more heavily manipulated variation. At least enough to alter things to this point while still retaining humanoid anatomy."

“…I see.” She says, hugging him a little tighter. His face softened a bit, which Seraphina took as a win as she considered his words. This was certainly a cause for concern... But… She also knew Nathaniel had a tendency to bear his responsibilities on himself rather harshly. He was probably beating himself up about it even now.

"You couldn't have known, Nathaniel." She says, trying to keep her tone easy.

He exhales. "That's the point."

Sera rests her cheek against his shoulder. “…Well. Even then. We’re alive, aren’t we?” Something told her this wasn’t the best way to lift his spirits. And she was right- he frowned in record time.

“You’re alive, until the next time you two inevitably get yourselves hurt, that is.” Nathaniel muttered. “What would I do then? Improvise if I encountered a new organ? use my imagination?”

“I doubt it’s to the point that I have new-“

“You doubt, but you don’t know.” He looks at her again. "And I don’t either.”

“…”

“…Can we please take a few scans in my office?”

They remained silent.

…

"...You won't let up about this, will you?"

"It's kind of important, Ser. We can cuddle later."

Seraphina huffed and kicked away the covers. “Never a dull moment…”

Nathaniel followed suit. “Let's be honest, who’d want a dull life, anyhow?”

---

“You aren’t doing shit to her.” Vincent sneered.

Nathaniel sipped some of his tea. Wow. So much for asking him for reference. He decided to waste his breath a little more. “For the nth time Vincent, I’m trying to see how her anatomy works, and that info would be really useful so I-“

Vincent loudly interrupted him. “So you can what, you lanky fuck? see how different you are? Find excuses to— to break her down? Gut her like a fish?”

Sera walked into the room in some light sportswear. "Vincent, what are you talking about-“

“NO.” He snaps at her, then turns back to Nathaniel. "Fuck you, Sasquatch. You. Aren’t. Doing. Shit. To. Her. I’ll make sure of that.” Nathaniel kept watching on as he continued the insults. Hum. Sasquatch was a pretty genius insult, actually.

Seraphina rolls her eyes. “While I appreciate your sudden and unneeded sense of protection, I’ll remind you that Nathaniel is my partner.” She said. “I don’t need your approval. Stop harassing him.”

Vincent rolled his eyes. “You don’t know— You don’t know this. You say it’s okay but then they—” Seraphina interrupts him."There is no they, Vincent. There’s only one person here that will be doing this, and you’ve known Nathaniel for years-“

“I knew them for my whole life.” Vincent balled his fists until his knuckles popped. “My whole life. They only got worse, their ‘questions' became worse, and they never stopped, even though they knew me. There was always a reason to… To…!” He looks down, making a strangling gesture with his snarled hands, eyes filled with emotions she's never seen him express.

“So don’t blame me for seeing this as another obvious excuse. That’s what they all say- that— that they need answers, and then they WRECK you.” Vincent’s usual rasp of a voice almost seemed shaky for a moment.

Nathaniel sets his mug down. "I'm not doing any of those things, Vincent."

"YET."

This was new. It was odd to see any sort of empathy displayed by Vincent, especially towards her of all people. Sera didn’t know what to say. Where were his complaints about her? the out of pocket comments? the impromptu call to something she’s inferior for?

…Why did it almost seem like he cared?

“It should’ve been you." He says between bloodied coughs as she pulled off the last wire relays. He had no more energy to keep fighting, nor stimulants to keep him moving. He sucks in another ragged breath to speak, eyes brimming with pure hatred. "All this time… You got to have everything. Everything, when you should’ve been hacked apart with me. You should've been in hell with me. I wish you were. Then they would have realized you’re nothing special, 02. Nothing worth missing. You’ve always just been a cheap replacement.”

...Right.

Seraphina scowled. There was no way in hell that this cockroach was going to act chummy with her of all things. That bridge was burned the day they met.

“Look, you—“ Sera started to respond, but was met with Nathaniel’s “cut it out” face. Bother. She crossed her arms and let him handle the rhetoric.

“Alright Vincent, are you really convinced that I’ll hurt your sister somehow?” Nathaniel asked, crossing his arms with an odd, almost knowing glint in his eyes. So he did have a plan... But what was it?

“…There’s always an opportunity. ” He said lowly. If looks could kill...

“Fine, how about you stay in the room, then? You’d be able to see firsthand that it’s nothing to worry about.” Nathaniel gave him a bright smile. It was almost enough to make her forget what he just offered. Seraphina glared at him. “What.”

Vincent eyed him, judging him under criteria she couldn’t guess if she tried. “Alright, Sasquatch.”

WHAT.

"If you do something funny I’m destroying your clinic. Then you.”

Nathaniel didn’t hesitate to reply. “Sounds good.”

Sera gripped her crossed arms while Vincent took a seat on the opposite side of the room. Nathaniel grinned at her, shooting her a goofy two-eyed wink.

“Relax, Ser. It’s only some scans, your privacy won’t be violated if he’s there. I'm also making sure my clinic doesn’t get destroyed.” She hated how casual he sounded about this.

“I’m starting to hate your improvisations.” She grumbled.

“You forget that he lives with us.”

—

Vincent was… Honestly surprised after everything was wrapped up. It was like being shocked— no, wrong word— surprised, but in a good way- he didn’t have the term for that feeling yet.

His idiot knockoff was perfectly fine. Sober. Painless. Not even the slightest bit uncomfortable. Possibly a little awkward since he was there, but he had to be there, otherwise-

…

Otherwise…

…Really, what would that beanpole have done?

Vincent really didn’t know what he was so upset about. He did know Nathaniel for a long while, but... He also didn’t know what separated their coats from his. He wouldn’t risk it either way. Ever since the first day he looked into Sasquatch’s eyes, he knew there was something fucked up underneath.

...It didn't sit right with him.

Hell, he didn’t even have a word for a check this boring. Nice words? Gentle handling? No shoving into scanner machines? no electrocution? No VAST tech remotes? Not even the slightest threat or restraint? As Nathaniel promised, she was okay and unmoved as ever, staring at him with the sort of look that said “I told you so.” What she would never know is that he had no grounds to believe him before this. He’s never seen tests like these before.

It was eventually finished in around three hours time. Nathaniel had made a catalogue of important scans, cross-referencing whatever he found with some basic physical inspection that culminated in checking her range of motion, doing a modest external examination, and being overall professional. Vincent thought that being professional meant being extra good at being heartless, like knowing how to keep working for hours to the sound of blood-curdling screams. Or making deep, precise cuts even when the subject is moving.

...His chest aches.

Vincent was certain that Nate was going to pull out earplugs at some point and was ready to wring his neck like a towel.

...

But he didn't.

He didn't do any of those things.

It was there that Vincent realized another thing. If this was all Sasquatch needed to piece together what was going on inside of her, then why did they do so many procedures to him under the pretense of doing the same? He expected force, vivisection, grueling trials, and humiliation. He expected to see suffering, gritted teeth, and uncaring faces. But none of that was supposed to happen. Only a light exam with happy words, full consent, and a sunlit room.

Vincent felt something overwhelming for a moment- the sort of emotion he would’ve immediately attributed to harrowing jealousy. But no, now he finally found the word for it. The word he never understood how to convey, since he felt it all the time and no one would listen.

Vincent felt hurt; unbelievably so.

Was he just dealt a shit hand at every turn in life? Why couldn’t he have nice things? Why was everything so fucked for him from day one?

Why could no one care?

He realized at that moment, that everything he was forced to learn was a mere casualty.

—

Seraphina walked out of the scanner’s range and walked up to him. “See, Vincent? There was nothing you needed to break into histrionics about. I’m fi-“ “Shut up.” He cut her off, and shoved a data-port into Nathaniel’s hand. “You’ll find a better use for this.”

Nathaniel briefly looked it over. “What is-“

“You two proved me wrong. Good. I’m out, now.”

Before Nathaniel could even call for him, Vincent was already out of the circular window and speeding between the clouds. A trail of mist was left in his wake until his silhouette was too far to be seen.

Seraphina took the port from Nathan’s hands and observed; on it was a familiar logo- Venus Inc.

The organization that had apparently made them both. Whose existence Vincent loathed acknowledging, even in passing. The ones that nearly got ahold of her too, had she not been taken into hero work.

“Nathaniel.”

Nathan looked back at her, still looking out the window. “Yes?”

“Your insistence on him being there… You knew there was substance to his fear, didn’t you?”

“…More than you would think.” There was something unidentifiable in his eyes. She already knew it meant nothing good.

Sera held his gaze for a moment, then pocketed the port herself. She would have to look into this later. But for now…

She rubbed Nathaniel’s back a little, offering a small smile. “Tell me what you learned from these scans of yours.”

The wave of darkness lightened up a little, and he smiled back. “Well… It’s… I can’t say I know everything yet, but for one your arterial mapping is entirely different.”

Oh.

Oh no. She legitimately could not care less.

He was bursting at the seams to speak about it though. His eyes were twinkling about the wondrous joys of… Anatomical function…?

…Perhaps it would benefit from a tactical perspective…

“Arteries? Do tell.”

"See, when we were still getting to know each other, I patched you up under the assumption that you were an atypical or something of that nature-“ He starts, activating the hologram projector in the ceiling.

“Yes, you’ve said that.” She says, eyeing some of the scan results that come out.

...Hm. Maybe it was a little interesting.

Nathaniel smiles at something, and starts to gesture towards some of the stills. “But in truth-"

#seraphinatag #nathanieltag #vincenttag #ARK_SYSTEMA #DevaWrites #wah I hope this is nice #Behold #the pocket imager! Nate uses it a lot especially out on the field #it's not too efficient when it comes to in depth scans but boy is it helpful #it utilizes the same liquid crystal projection that's found all around their base and in modern tech. just for a different function.#a peek into vincents fucky lil brain just for you tolkien

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starz222 · 1 year

Note

teehee hi

nebula w kazuha?? mayb

congrats on your milestone bby!!

"the moon is beautiful, isn't it?" — ft. kazuha

cw not proofread notes sorry this took so long alyssa! this is kind of short, nevertheless i hope you enjoy <3 thank you for requesting MWAH 200 milestone event can be found here !

the waves crashing into each other filled the silence of the night. the wind whistling and covering your face with strands of your hair. the cold air brought shivers up your spine, and yet because of kazuha, you felt warm.

after walking along the shore of inazuma, you decided to take a rest on the docks. it was a beautiful moonlit night— and it was more peaceful having kazuha by your side. his presence was incredibly comforting. his words would warm your heart up, not only that but the way he said it. he had a way of getting under your skin and making you flustered with the slightest grin.

your sleepiness was getting to you. you’ve been yawning and your eyelids have been closing longer than they should. barely having any energy to think, you rest on kazuha’s shoulder. indeed, the action makes him flinch. the sudden weight on his shoulders caught him off guard. but it was you, and his body tensed up. he would want anything but to disturb you.

before you close your eyes shut, you feel a cold sensation on your hand. you blink many times to get your sight to be focused again, and you see a bandaged hand, kazuha’s hand. he intertwines his fingers with yours, and caresses your hand with his thumb. “the moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” a poet’s way of professing their love to you. they put them into riddles to mask the meaning. but it’s all the same. no matter what words he’ll say, or how he says it, it’s undeniable. he loves you.

you bury your face into the crook of his neck and mumble, "it is."

#genshin x reader #kazuha x reader #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kazuha kaedehara #kaedehara kazuha #kazuha #kazuha x you #kazuha x y/n #genshin fics #genshin fluff #genshin impact #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #genshin fanfic #genshin drabbles #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #milestone event #requests

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junkissed · 2 years

Text

sunshine café

member — cafe owner!seokmin x gn reader genre — fluff, strangers to (implied) lovers, cafe au word count — 1.3k warnings — food mention (he owns a cafe...), seokmin is the actual sweetest person on earth, seok is shy teehee, a pinch of idiots to lovers notes — lowercase intended, starbucks pls don't sue me, i hope it's not obvious i don’t understand how coffee machines work lmao i am a tea drinker. hope you enjoy!

one reblog = one warm cinnamon muffin

"hey, seok! what's on the menu today?"

the day you decided to walk home from work instead of taking the bus was the day you discovered the sunshine cafe. it was also the day you met seokmin, the cafe’s cheery owner and sunshine personified.

cherry blossom petals scattered the ground and a light mist of fog had hung in the early morning air on that spring day. you yawned, fighting to stay awake from the graveyard shift you’d just left. maybe the bus wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

so when the cafe’s bright sign and cozy feel caught your eye on the way home, you figured, what could it hurt? sunshine was probably the exact thing you needed to cheer you up after an exhausting night.

and when you walked into the cafe, doorbell jingling airily behind you, sunshine was exactly what you got.

“hi, welcome in!” you heard a soft, cheerful voice call out. “what can i get for you?”

you looked up. the prettiest man you’d ever seen in your life greeted you from behind the counter, waving in your direction.

“hi,” you said, suddenly feeling shy as you walked closer. “um, what would you recommend?”

he smiled, his eyes scrunching up so much they almost seemed to disappear. his smile was contagious; although you were the only two in the cafe, he lit up the room and made everyone around him want to smile too.

“well, our signature drink the sakura latte is here for the season!” he beamed, seemingly proud of himself. “it’s pretty popular.”

“i’ll take your word for it,” you giggled, pulling your wallet out of your bag.

he waved your hand away. “on the house,” he said, his smile still sparkling. “you look like you need a little bit of sunshine today.”

and somehow, your new friend seokmin knew exactly how to turn your day completely around, with just a few words and a pink latte.

you pulled out a chair from a table near the counter so you could be near him while he made your drink. he had such a warmth about him that drew you in, making you want to be around him all the time, even though you’d only just met the man.

“did- did you come up with the menu?” you asked.

he nodded before pressing down on the handle of the espresso machine. “yep, all my own recipes. this cafe’s always been my dream.”

you watched him maneuver around the bar with practiced ease, his long apron fluttering around his legs as he moved.

after a minute the machine quieted, enough for you to talk over it. “what other recipes do you have?”

he stopped, thinking. “hm. well, my favorite thing to make is cinnamon muffins. they only come out in september for our fall menu, though. you should try them sometime,” he added quickly, and you didn’t miss the blush creeping into his cheeks as he hurriedly turned his attention back to making your drink.

“i will.”

he paused, his gaze shifting back up to you. “i’ll save a special one just for you, fresh from the oven,” he said, his smile growing.

you grinned. “i’m gonna hold you to that, you know.”

he popped a plastic lid on your drink and you stood up, pushing your chair in before you walked over to him.

his eyes twinkled as you took the cup from his hands, fingers brushing for just a beat too long. “i hope you do.”

the sound of the bell on the front door alerts seokmin to someone entering the shop, but he doesn’t turn around from the oven. the cold autumn wind whistles into the cafe for a moment, then stops suddenly as the door shuts. there’s only one regular that comes in this early in the morning, one that never fails to brighten his day.

“hey, seok! what’s on the menu today?”

your cheery voice fills the room, and a smile spreads across his face at the sound. he opens the oven door and carefully pulls out a tray before finally turning around.

“well... we have a new item today,” he grins, waiting for the words to sink in.

you gasp, unable to contain your smile. “is it finally that time?”

he can’t count how many times he’s had to stop himself from making a batch over the past few months, just because he wanted to make you happy. and, a part of him that he didn’t want to acknowledge, had thought that you might not keep coming back until then. but, no, you had showed up at five thirty on the dot every morning without fail, asking him for his recommendation of the day and chatting with him in the same chair right by the counter. the cafe was almost always empty at that time of morning, especially after the new starbucks opened up around the block, but you were always there; by now, you'd probably tried every recipe he knew how to make. except one.

some days there’d be a few other customers in the cafe, stragglers getting up earlier than normal for their morning coffee fix. he always dreaded those days, because he wouldn’t get the chance to talk to you. running a cafe practically by himself wasn’t an easy task, but you made him excited to show up to work every day, and looking forward to seeing you made each task seem a little less difficult.

little did he know, he had exactly the same effect on you. he made you excited to get off work every day, and even after the longest and most exhausting of shifts, you could always count on him to bring the light back into your eyes.

he slips the oven mitts off his gentle hands and takes a muffin from the tray, carefully picking the best one for you. he grabs a napkin from the holder at the counter and wraps it around the muffin before handing it to you gingerly.

“careful,” he says, cheeks rosy from the oven’s warmth- or maybe, from something else. “it’s hot. fresh out of the oven, just like i promised.”

the smile on your face as you take the treat is bright enough to power the whole world, he thinks. and the way the happiness seems to radiate off of you when you finally take the bite you’ve waited months for must be enough to power the world ten times over, he’s sure of it.

“this is so-”

“do you-”

you giggle, still chewing. “you first.”

his face flushes. “well, um... i was just gonna ask, uh...” he clears his throat and starts again, regaining his confidence. “do- do you maybe wanna go get lunch sometime? my shift ends at 11,” he says quickly, his eyes darting to the floor and back up again.

you swallow your mouthful of muffin and clear your throat, too, bringing his attention back to your face.

“i’d really like that, seok,” you say, barely able to contain your smile.

you stare at each other for a moment, wrapped up in each other's happiness and warmth. time seems to stop for a second as you gaze at him with such a fondness, there might as well be little pink hearts floating around your head.

suddenly, seokmin stands up straighter, remembering. “what was it you were going to say?” he asks, clasping his hands together as he bounces back around to the other side of the counter, a new skip in his step.

you laugh, and it sounds like music to his ears. “the muffins are really good. i’m glad i waited.”

and he has a feeling you're talking about more than just his baking.

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it lets me know this is something people want to see more of and it helps a ton with being motivated to write. thanks for reading!!

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soupgoose · 7 months

Text

Unimaginable

Summary : Life never gets easier for them, in fact it only seems to get worse. Ever since Mark and the Captain landed the Invincible II, a hellfire of war has constantly bombarded the young colony. Having been kept inside the safe confines of the base, the Captain is ready to participate in this war, and Mark has a horrible feeling about it. Turns out he was right.

Genre: Hurt/Little Comfort, Angst, some Fluff

Word Count : 10,040 (teehee)

Paring: Captaineer (Captain/Head Engineer)

TRIGGER WARNING: This text contains the mentions of, War, gunfire, blood, knives, injury relating to gunshots and knives, and major character death!!! (Epilogue Includes mention of cremation and making things from ashes). While there is no mention of heavy gore or heavy descriptions of injuries other than the fact that they are there and ouchies; If any of this upsets you or makes you uncomfortable, read at your own discretion!!

A.N: I’ve returned back from the dead! …Again! I do apologize for not existing for a while, college has been a bitch, but hey, we’re still going! This work has been baking in my brain for quite a while so I’m glad that it’s finally out and finished! It’s definitely…long…but I just couldn’t stop myself.

There is an optional Epilogue at the end, mostly because I couldn’t let it be hurt with NO comfort, and also because I wanted to cry some more.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

Happy reading! -Soup

Screaming and yelling erupted from around the corner. Startled by the sudden commotion, Mark and Gunther rushed to the sound. Rounding the turn they witnessed the Captain and an assailant thrashing and writhing around. The individual was trying to push them to the ground, light reflecting off of the metal blade in one of their hands. Their only advantage for the ambush they tried to pull, was that the Captain’s back was turned. They didn’t make it very far, as the Captain managed to overpower them and throw them off.

Gunther sprung in from behind them, tackling and holding them to the ground. His gun pressed into the back of their head.

“Gunther. Don’t.”, they wheezed, gasping for air. Their left hand pressed firmly against where the attacker managed to reach. A dark red stain had begun to form from underneath it and they could feel the tinge of pain begin to spread.

Reluctantly, Gunther did as he was told, picking up the perpetrator with another security officer to carry them away to be dealt with. They screamed profanities and obscenities as they were dragged away.

“It’s all your fault! We never would have been here if it weren't for you!”

Mark rushed to their side, worriedly checking them over for any injuries.

“Holy shit, are you alright?”

The Captain shrugged him off, insisting that they were fine.

“Just a little shaken, Mark.” They gave him a pained reassuring smile before their expression soured again, an audible wince as they sucked the air in through their teeth.

Mark watched as the Captain's hand gingerly massaged the growing bruise on their shoulder where their assailant had viciously grabbed them.

“Are you sure you're alright? We can run you by the med bay just-”

“No. There's injured people that need it more than myself, especially for a small bruise.”

Mark wanted to protest, but the argument fell dead on his tongue. His eyes drifted down their arm, where he took notice of the dark spot growing larger on their sleeve.

“Crap- Cap, are you serious?! We have to get you to inferm now you-”

“Mark-” they chuckled dryly, “I’m fine, I’m fine. See?”

The Captain pulled themself away from their worried friend, trying to appear unaffected by the cut, but ultimately staggering in place before regaining their balance.

Unconvinced, Mark frowned. “Just a ‘small bruise’, huh?”

“Inferm?” They sighed

“Inferm.”

They walked slowly and apathetically, leaning up against Mark as he tried to support the Captain’s body weight. The movement in their arms when they walked caused the fabric to rub against the wound, causing them to wince with every step. The pain was beginning to become nauseating, and as the adrenaline wore off they found it more and more difficult to keep walking.

“Mark, wait for a sec. I need to sit down.”

He helped lower them to the ground, kneeling by their side as they rested the back of their helmet against the concrete wall.

He watched intently as their chest rose and fell with each breath. He could make out the vague shape of their eyes behind the tinted glass in this lighting. They looked to be closed, or at least close enough. Their eyebrows were tightly furrowed, knitted together as they tried to regain what little balance and composure they had left. Mark began to grow more worried at the significance of the injury, especially if it had the Captain tap out.

A cacophony of chaos raged outside. Yelling and banging seeped through the fortified walls, reminding them of the hell that they were trapped in.

“How is it going out there?” Their voice tense.

“Nothings changed. The barricades and walls are holding strong, but we’re still being attacked from all around us. It’s unclear how long this attack will last. I’ll give them this, their species is persistent...” he said, chuckling dryly to himself. Not really amused at his attempt at bringing some lightness into the horrid situation. But humor was still a coping mechanism, even now.

A moment of silence passed.

“Have we tried the turrets? The ADS?”

“We can’t. Too many of our own are out there, we’re guaranteed casualties if we try.”

“Damn it.”

He looked towards the horrible sounds on the other side of the wall, flinching, at a blood curdling scream.

The Captain looked at their beloved partner, observing his exhausted appearance.

Mark was horribly disheveled. His uniform, which used to be covered in grease stains, was now tattered and drenched in dirt, mud, and most likely some blood. He looked beyond stressed, heavy eye bags hung above his scratched and dusted cheeks.

The Captain’s eyes analyzed the cuts across his face, as a pang of guilt shot through their heart and sunk into their abdomen.

‘It’s your fault we’re here…’ they thought.

“Are you alright?” they asked. The Captain spoke in a gentle tone, hushed as to not startle the already jumpy engineer.

Mark looked over at them helplessly. His glossy, tired eyes almost reflected their image back at them.

“I’ll be fine.” He started, despite his eyes reflecting another answer. “We need to get you patched up first though. Do you think you can stand yet?”

They nodded weakly, “I can give it a try.”

Attempting to get up, the captain's head filled with a fog, immediately being met with an intense dizziness. They used their hand on the uninjured arm to try to push themselves up from the wall, only to quickly lose what little balance they had regained. Mark’s hands quickly moved to brace them as they began to tip forward, helping them sit back against the wall.

“Hah…I don’t think I’ll be able to do much yet…”

“Hey, that’s alright Cap, I’ll just give Celci a call to come meet us here.”

The Captain sighed, “I really don’t want this to be a whole ordeal Mark.”

“Too late for that, Cap.”

As they waited they noticed that the sounds outside began to move further and further away. Fewer yells and screams. Gun fire became less audible as the time passed.

The two grew more confused, neither of them had heard any updates on the situation outside, though both of the comms on their wrists had become fairly unreliable.

“How far?” Mark asked hopefully, the news temporarily distracting him from the worries that previously plagued his mind.

Celci rushed in with another crew member, as if she had heard the two's confusion.

“We’re pushing them back! They’re retreating!” She called out.

“Not sure, the furthest group appears to be currently little more than a few miles away, and they’re moving fast to get out. At this rate, we should have enough time to make repairs and regroup before they decide to come back!”

The news wasn’t great, but it was still good, or at least better. Which was something everyone needed right now, no matter how small.

A brief wave of relief hit Mark and the Captain, however it was quickly replaced with a surge of determination.

A few miles bought them a few hours, depending on how interested the army was in coming back. And if the lookout was correct about the retreat, hopefully they wouldn’t be back until sometime the next afternoon. Regardless of how much time they had, no one was planning on wasting any of it.

The moment of relief was cut short when Celci saw the Captain's condition.

“Holy shit! Dr. B, get over here with that first aid kit! And someone, notify the other leads immediately!”

“So much for not making it a big deal.” they sighed.

The cut was much deeper than the Captain let on, as it definitely caused damage to their bicep. The bruise on their shoulder was less concerning medically. Celci wrapped their arm tightly with a bandage, holding in place a fresh pad of gauze covering the recently stitched wound.

However, for the leads, the dark red hand print was horrifying.

“Who managed this?” Celci asked in a hushed voice.

“Some asshole slipped in, a very angry colonist.” Gunther started, “They jumped the Captain from behind, the coward couldn’t even take them on in a fair fight. I didn't even get to take my shot-”

“Gunther, that is besides the point.” The Captain interjected, a low annoyance obviously present in their voice. “I let my guard down, there was an attempt on my life, and they were not successful. It's over. I’m fine.”

“The bastard tried to kill you! This is not “fine”!”

“We have much bigger things to worry about than some stupid attack! I would be a lot happier if everyone would stop treating my life like it's something to fuss over!” The Captain said bluntly.

“I’ll come back to checkin in a while.” Dr. B left quickly, picking up on the group's growing tension.

“What exactly do you mean by that, Captain?” Celci asked after a moment.

“What they’re trying to say is that they would much rather be outside gettin’ killed than being inside where it is safe.” Gunther snapped.

“Gunther!” Mark and Celci gasped in unison.

Their helmet kept the majority of their furious expression hidden, but everyone felt the glare that was directed at the gunner.

“You know what Gunther, looks like you’re finally right about something.”

“Captain!”

“No, you know what- I have been through just as much of this shithole as anyone else in this colony. I am not a delicate person. A cut and a bruise is the least of the colony's problems!” The captain grew more agitated, “It was voted that I stay inside the base, for my safety. How is that fair? My crew is dying under my command and there is nothing I am allowed to help with. And even if I was fine being tucked away, someone still managed to attack me today. God forbid I help with repairs, or with recon, or sitting in a look-out tower. Literally anything would be just as safe as sitting inside of this death trap!”

The 5 fell silent. Taken aback by their Captain’s rage, not one of them could think of a thoughtful response. The Captain’s eyes glanced around the leads, seeing as all of them shared a similar horrified and shocked look. Their glaze finally fell to Marks, their expression softening before they looked back at the rest of the group.

They sighed, “I… apologize for my outburst.” Their words carried a weight of guilt. “Please, everyone try to get some rest tonight. We have no idea what tomorrow has in store for us. And if you’ll allow me, I wish to meet you all in the morning to go over your plans.”

The group hesitated before beginning to leave the small gurney, looking amongst each other in silence, finally making their ways to their stations and duties.

“Gunther, if you have a moment.”

He sighed, “Of course, Cap’n”

Mark tried to linger before his Captain gestured to him to follow the others, leaving Gunther and them to talk. A little while later, Mark watched as Gunther and the Captain emerged from the infirmary a while after, before going their separate ways.

Everyone got to work quickly that evening. Burt and engineers began preparing for repairs for barricades and covers with anything they could find. Celci went with the medics, looking for the injured or dead. And Gunther took everyone else inside to regroup and organize a new plan.

The Captain stood silently, adorned with a stained gauze bandage, almost uncomfortably tight underneath their torn suit. They heard Mark approaching them from behind, jumping slightly when his boot crunched on a small gathering of rubble.

“Cap?” Mark spoke hesitantly

“You should go with Burt tomorrow.” The Captain had their back turned to him, looking out across the scene in front of them ignoring his concerned tone.

“I was actually going to stay with you.”

“That won’t be necessary, Mark. Burt will need your assistance more than I will.”

“And where are you going to go, Cap?”

They hesitated before speaking, “I’m going to walk the perimeter with Gunther’s group in the morning.”

“Woah, hold on. You know that’s dangerous Captain, I’m sorry but I can’t let you do that-”

They interrupted him, their voice serious. “Mark, I am no more important than any other crew member in our fleet. We’ve already been over this once today. Besides, I’m more than qualified in doing a perimeter check.”

They turned to face him, still wearing the chunky helmet that everyone became familiar with. He couldn’t see the details of their face with the setting sun's glare, but he knew the look they were giving him.

They sighed, “Gunther and I agreed that if he wanted to keep me safe, and I wanted to be useful, the best place is with him and the rest of the gunners as a type of body guard system… I’m not completely happy with the arrangement, but it’s something.”

“Besides, I’m not any safer in here than I am out there. I want to be more than an action figure. I want to be out there where I can do something helpful, Mark.”

“But-”

“Please. Let me at least pretend that I am some kind of help.” Their hand rested firmly against his shoulder, squeezing it in reassurance.

‘You are to me Cap’ he thought, helplessly watching as they walked away to the meeting room. He knew that he wasn’t able to change their mind, despite how desperately he wanted to.

He followed shortly after them.

That night Mark and the Captain made it to their shared quarters, it wasn’t a lot but it was enough. Many people had either gotten into pairs or groups for sleeping cabins. It was important that everyone had at least one other person to get help if the moment ever arises.

A Buddy System of sorts.

The leads insisted to the Captain that they needed to have their quarters surrounded by guards. Their counter was that Mark would share the room with them as their buddy. No need for guards, no extra fuss.

The two had shared sleeping arrangements before, so this felt like a weirdly comfortable spot, at least considering what the situation was. If they ignored what was happening outside, it was almost nice to get a chance to spend a quiet moment together. They never knew when their last time would be together, so they tried to enjoy what time they did have.

Every light in the fortress had to be turned off by nightfall. No one could risk the enemy being able to see them from above ground as an illuminated target. Mark had already gotten ready for bed. He could hear them rustling around, changing in the dark nearby. A click followed by a sharp hiss signified that the Captain had removed their helmet. He could barely make out their silhouette in the dark. Their features hidden in the shadows. He didn’t need to see them, however, he knew what they looked like. In past lives he found himself staring at them whenever they were not wearing their Captain’s Helm. He loved them, the way they looked he meant…not “love-love”... To him they were the essence of perfection. Both the most handsome and the most beautiful being, all at once.

‘That’s so corny…’ he thought.

“Did you say something, Mark?” They asked suddenly, the blanket shifted as they got into bed. He inhaled sharply, wondering if he had actually spoken. “Nope,” he yawned, trying to cover for his fumble, “probably just- breathed weirdly, haha.”

“Whatever, dork.” They teased. “We’ve got an early morning…try to get some sleep.”

He hummed in response, internally scolding himself for acting awkwardly around his friend.

They shared one large bed, using separate blankets to keep a barrier of professionalism.

Neither of them would really care if they had to share one. However, it was never brought up in conversation, and neither of them wanted to make an awkward situation.

The cold was hard to ignore during the night, as Mark shivered silently to himself as he fell asleep, wishing to be able to scoot just a little closer to the other body behind him.

‘That’s a horrible idea…but it would be nice.’ That was the last thought he had before he drifted off.

In the night the Captain woke drenched in a cold sweat, gasping for a solid breath. The pain in their side felt so real… The dream itself had begun to fade, along with the imaginary injury. That was until the sudden jerk pulled at the stitches in their arm, which was actual pain. They winced, as all of their attention was moved from the fictional wound in their abdomen to the throbbing ache in their bicep. “Shit…” they muttered under their breath.

Beneath them something shifted and groaned, mumbling into itself. Looking down, their eyes focused on the sleeping form of their engineer. Their heart fluttered for a brief moment. He looked just so peaceful and happy in the low light. His arm was draped across their lap, and his head was buried into their side. He stirred slightly at the Captain's sudden alertness, propping himself up on one of his elbows. “is it time to wake up yet?” he asked groggily, obviously not fully awake.

Their gaze softened, “No, not quite, Mark.”

“why are you up then”

“Just a bad dream.”

“lay back down- I’ll keep you safe Cap’n”

They couldn’t say no to their engineer. He was so cute, cuddled up to them, yet he still was trying to be protective even though he was half asleep.

Laying back down, Mark pulled them in, tucking their head underneath his chin and resting just above his chest. His arms held them close, subconsciously careful of their injured arm.

“I’ve gotcha cap” he hushed, hugging them closer. It took them a second before they were able to calm their racing heart. But the warmth that encompassed them was hard to resist, and they snuggled closer, burying themself into the arms of their friend.

Despite the hell that surrounded them, and the nightmares that plagued their rest; The Captain fell asleep in the safest, most comfortable place in every existing universe.

When Mark woke first that following morning, with his Captain in his arms, and them buried into his chest, his brain completely malfunctioned. Not wanting to move, but also not wanting them to wake up and realize the position the two of them were in, he froze.

Their injured arm was loosely draped around him, with their other being squished between their abdomen and him. The hand grasping at a piece of his night-shirt. He felt a small swarm of butterflies travel upwards from his stomach to his chest.

The small window provided, let in a small ray of light, which cascaded over the pairs bed and lit the side of the Captains face in a beautiful golden glow.

With the majority of their face being buried in his chest, barely half of it was in a position where he could take a good look at. Still, his brain felt a lightness as their features were complemented so wonderfully by the sun, and he hesitated taking in a deep breath for the fear that he'd wake them and subsequently end the moment of bliss.

Carefully, he craned his neck backwards as much as he comfortably could, studying the way the Captain’s features were smushed against him. They wore a small expression, an odd mixture of something he wasn't fully sure of. Their eyebrows had a small crease to them, and their mouth was stuck in between a smile and a grimace, their lips parted ever so slightly for them to push out little puffs of breath.

There was a fondness that spread like a wildfire through his mind and body. Daring to acknowledge how adorable they were when easily curled into him.

‘I could totally just kiss their forehead right now.’

He blushed at the sudden thought, furious with himself for wanting something so silly. It wouldn’t be appropriate for him to do that as the Captain slept. Then again, it also probably wasn't appropriate for him to be cuddling them either…

’It’s not like they’d know what happened, and a small kiss on their forehead wouldn’t be weird since they’ve done it to me before…’

His heart got away from him as he leaned forward.

The moment was so short in retrospect, but it was perfect. He couldn't quite reach their forehead, instead opting to press the gesture closer to their hairline. He had wanted this domestic bliss for so long, it almost didn’t feel real. They hummed in response, burying their face deeper into the flustered man’s chest. Despite his overall desire to pull them in closer, he refrained. Certain that he'd be unable to let them go when they finally began to stir.

That didn't exactly stop the unconscious party from doing it themself though. Mark let out a sigh, giving in just a little more.

He adjusted himself slightly, so his chin rested atop the Captain's head. A muffled half-put-together- giggle hummed against Mark's chest as their hair lightly moved against their face. He melted more, a fond smile spreading across his face, and he pulled them in just a little closer. Every moment cataloged at the forefront of Mark's brain.

Not long after, the Captain began to wake, but they were so out of it they said nothing more that a mumbled “g’d mornin” before getting up. Mark tried not to scramble away as they did so, trying to untangle the pile of limbs without drawing more attention to their previous position.

As they left his hold, Mark frowned at the lack of contact and warmth. He understood the importance of needing to get prepared for today, with that weight once again settled against his shoulders. However, his desire to pull them back, wore heavier on his heart.

Mark caught another small glimpse of the Captains face as they lowered their helmet over their head. He must have been staring, as they turned to look at him as the helm was fastened. “Need somethin’, Mark?” He quickly looked away, a small blush growing on the poor man's cheeks.

“Oh, no Cap. Just staring into space I guess.”

A small smile made its way across their lips. That and their blush thankfully hidden behind the dark glass of their helmet.

Barely after dawn, the Captain met with the leads and the other gunners, to go over the day's plans. As the sun rose from behind the hills and mountains in the distance, everyone began hurriedly working. The Captain followed Gunther and the gunner party, after some reassurance for Celci and Burt.

The Captain looked back towards Mark before their figure dipped behind the hill, waving at him.

Mark followed the other engineers, hoping to provide some help for his friends and team. Subconsciously, he’d look back at that hill, hoping that they’d pop back up the next time he’d look over.

“The bird must first fall from the nest before it may soar through the clouds.” Burt approached from behind, offering one of his confusing poems.

“What?”

He sighed, “The Captain isn’t a child, they are one of our strongest fighters, and they are the best person to be our leader.”

He sighed, “I know they are…”

“Then trust them. They know their limits, they wouldn’t put themselves at risk if they didn’t understand that.”

“But they’ve pushed those same limits too far before, I’m just-”

“Worried about them?”

“I- I just don’t want to lose them, Burt. They're my closest friend, my partner…” Marks voice wavered, “I don’t know what I’ll do if they get hurt.”

Burt gave him a sympathetic look. Mark had confided in Burt, he was one of the only people that Mark had shared these feelings with. One of the few that knew truly how close the Engineer and the Captain were.

It was well known that Mark and the Captain were close. No one quite knew how close though. Some assumed that they were married, or at the very least engaged, with how comfortable they were in each other's presence. Many felt that they were in the early stages of dating, which would explain the occasional awkward moments. Everyone else was confident that they were just really, really, good friends.

In truth, Mark also had no idea where the two of them stood. He had fallen head over heels for his Captain years before, during one of their many lifetimes together. They had spent eternities by each other's sides, in every type of way. However, neither of them ever addressed it directly, there was no time to. They were just together, no label required.

This lifetime was no different, and it went unmentioned once again. In the past, this didn’t bother him as much, so long as they had each other by their sides, the details didn’t matter.

However, he felt different this time, he wanted to know for certain where he stood with his beloved Captain.

Burt gave Mark a firm pat on the back before returning to his work, leaving Mark to watch the hill.

Around 3 hours had passed with no sign of the party, and with no new intel of the enemy’s position. Mark had finished what he could outside, now sitting at the top of one of the tall watch towers. His eyes skimmed across the grounds.

A shape came over one of the dirt hills in the distance.

“What is that…”

It gradually grew larger, then larger… and what he saw terrified him.

He called out to one of the watchmen, hoping that he was seeing things and that wasn’t really there.

The watchmen froze in place, cursing to himself before yelling to the others.

“Start the sirens and rig the exterior walls! We’ve got a wave coming from the East!”

Panic ensued, as people rushed to their positions and into buildings for cover.

“No no no, wait! The guard party hasn’t returned yet, if we shut down then they’ll get trapped out there!”

“Sir, we don’t have any choice. We’ll keep an eye out for them, but we cannot risk the fate of the rest of the colony.”

“God dammit- The Captain’s out there! Without them, there won’t be a colony!”

Mark spoke desperately at the man.

The watchman gave a horrified look before muttering, “god help them.”

Mark looked hopeless as the watchman ran off, frozen to his spot in front of the large window. His mind raced in terror, the worst-case scenario playing in his head.

Sirens blared and the scrambling of hundreds ensued within the walls, many reaching for weapons and rushing to their positions. Mark, scrambling through the crowd, raced to the comms room, which was outfitted with extensive maps and radar of the area.

‘If anything can locate them, it’ll be here.’

A few operators jumped at Mark's demands, as he accidentally shoving someone out of the way to get to the screens. He frantically searched for the parties location, desperation growing after every second.

Starting to assume the worst, he saw something.

A white dot, dangerously close to the enemy, is pinned between the base and the oncoming assault.

It sat there, unmoving.

“Come on, come on…” Mark quietly pleaded under his breath, waiting to see some sort of life from the signal.

The screen lagged, and the dot moved. Mark let out a relieved sigh, pleased to see that the party was still active, and the mark wasn’t showing casualties.

His relief was cut short.

“They’re still out there.”

He quickly thanked the crew before rushing out the door, he had to get a team out there to bring them back in.

“Celci! Where are the recovery trucks?”

“Good lord Mark, what's the rush, we’ll need those for injured soldiers-”

“The scouting team is still outside the gates, inside of the abandoned fort field.” He gasped for breath.

“They’ll have to wait out the attack then. They’ve got Gunther, he’ll keep them safe. We can't risk the colony-”

“That’s the party the Captain’s in Celci.”

The improvised medic’s face went pale. “They didn’t make it back in?”

“No. The party must have seen the attack coming, they must have known that they wouldn’t be able to make it back in through the main gate without being detected.”

“What can we do?”

Neither of them had an answer. The team needed to be retrieved, but with the proximity of the enemy, it was impossible.

“That’s risky…” She hesitated for a moment, “But we can give it a try.”

“We open the gate, just one. Have an arsenal waiting at the top of the wall and at the entrance. We have them rush in, and open fire on anything else that follows. It should be a straight shot to the gate, all they need to do is sneak behind cover. That field is covered in abandoned tents and small buildings. We could have a party distract and draw the attack to a secondary wall. They should be able to make it.” Mark announced determined.

“Wait. How will we be able to inform them of the plan? We've already tried to contact their comms and we couldn’t get anything through.”

Mark hadn’t considered that. He stood and thought for a while. In the corner of his eye he noticed an old damaged recovery truck in front of one of the discontinued “garage like” doors.

“I’ll go out.” He said suddenly

“Mark. Listen to yourself, thats suicide-”

“Mark no-”

“I’ll drive one of the recovery trucks, they’re reinforced, so oncoming fire won’t take it out right away. And that way, I can drive them back. There should be one of the vehicle bay doors on the eastern wall.”

“Celci, it could work! I’d keep the engine power on low so I’m not making too much noise, and that way we wouldn’t have to open the main gate. It’s a better plan!”

Celci gave Mark a desperate look, wordlessly begging him to not go through with this.

“Please let me do this. Please don’t stop me.”

Her heart broke. Mark looked so desperate to do this. The Captain meant everything to the team. They meant everything to him.

“Be careful.”

Burt walked up to the truck before the bay door opened.

They didn’t hesitate to gather a team. Celci informed a large group of colonists and had the larger half assemble a distraction on a wall away from the vehicle bay. The other group laid low near Mark’s exit, to give him cover in case the truck was spotted.

He didn’t have anything poetic to say, just a simple, “Bring them back.” and gave Mark a small smile before signaling the door controller.

Mark drove carefully. His foot just barely resting on the throttle. He tried his best to stay out of direct line of sight, knowing that if he were to be spotted this mission would be over.

It was distressing for the engineer to see so many fallen comrades and abandoned stations.

It reminded him of a much simpler time, before all of this started.

‘This isn't the time to reminisce.’

He drove for a short while, before he saw a familiar figure up ahead. It turned to face him, shocked and relieved at the rescue.

Gunther and a few others moved quickly towards the vehicle. Mark was relieved to see Gunther alive. However, he couldn’t help the feeling of dread that stewed in his gut.

“Holy shit, you’re alive you crazy S.O.B.” Mark laughed, “Seriously though, man, I’m glad to see everyones alright. Where's everyone waiting?” He said climbing out of the tall truck.

The gunner's mouth opened to say something, but no words came out before he closed it again. “Gunther…What happened out there?”

Gunther’s face didn’t reflect the normal smugness that it normally carried.

“Woah come’on man, is everything alright?”

“They got separated from the group Mark…No one knows where they went.”

Mark’s world shattered, “what?”

“We were evading the enemy. I got distracted looking for somewhere to wait it out. I didn’t notice them leaving. Their out there-”

Mark ran off, ignoring Gunther's plea for him to come back.

‘They're out there…’

They weren't sure what exactly caused this.

Bullets and some sort of alien ammunition whisked past their body as they darted from cover to cover. The Captain manages to duck behind the remnants of what appeared to be the crumbled and destroyed remains of a wall. They didn’t want to stop moving, knowing that the second they allowed their body to take a break they wouldn’t be able to get back up.

Everything was going so well…

Gashes and cuts littered their body, as dark crimson stains seeped from underneath the tattered uniform. The current of adrenaline kept them from noticing the severity of the injuries that lay hidden underneath the fabrics, but the ones that they could see were deep. As they stood behind the wall, waiting for a chance to return fire, they felt the warm trickle of blood, only some of it being their own, flowing from their forehead and down their cheek. Maybe it was the shock or that the adrenaline was more powerful than they had initially thought, but the throbbing in their body and head should have been debilitating.

Everyone was so careful. They took every precaution possible.

Keeping their breath low they heard their chance, as the cracks and bangs from behind them stalled for a moment. Peeking their head just slightly above the wall's lip they fired back towards the enemy line. Now, they couldn’t call themselves a bad shot, but they definitely needed practice. But at the moment, their current abilities would have to do.

Apparently not all space faring species could be reasoned with through words.

With a few well placed shots, the Captain took out the small resistant group of them, or at the very least caused them to retreat further back. The momentary break in immediate danger granted them a second to view the carnage that surrounded them. Scattered across the ground lay many fallen friends and foes. The lives of so many had been snuffed out like a used match. During their training they had been briefed on situations like this one, played out so many times in a simulation that they could have beaten them in their sleep. However that didn’t insinuate that they enjoyed this. The Captain had tried so desperately to avoid having to spill any unnecessary blood. Sure in a simulation winning over a fictitious enemy was easy. But taking lives, real lives, was so much harder.

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

Their legs hung from the end of the table, sitting as straight as they could.

“Captain, I-”

“Please don’t apologize, Gunther. We both let our emotions get the better of us. And as much as I don’t want to admit it, you had a point.”

He gave them a stunned look, “Now hold on Cap’n-”

“I do want to be out there. Not that I want to die, not purposefully if that's what you’re worrying about. I just can’t stand being cooped up in here while others are out there dying. And today just proved that it’s not any safer.” They paused. “I had some of the best combat training the academy could offer, I am experienced in a war zone.”

Gunther didn’t speak.

“But I can understand your concern. Everyone’s. I would just like to be more of a help during this fight.”

“You’ve got a spirit I’ve rarely seen Cap. I wish my team shared the same sentiment.”

They laughed. “Sounds like they need a pep-talk.”

“Definitely wouldn’t hurt Captain.”

The moment lightened both of their moods, and it faded out naturally.

“I wanted to properly apologize to you, Gunther. You’re a great leader, a great friend. And as much as I complain, I really do appreciate the concern.”

“And I truly appreciate all that you do for us Cap’n. And I also apologize, I know I can be a real ass. I just don’t want to see my friends get hurt if I can help it. ‘Seen too much death over the years, I’d hate for you to become a memory.”

“The feeling is mutual Gunner.”

“I also wanted to ask if I could attend the scouting party tomorrow afternoon. I know it's a hard ask for you, and I am well aware that the others wouldn’t approve, but I trust in both of our abilities. Before you say anything, no this is not a death wish. It’s more of a compromise, in a way. And you have full control over the conditions.”

Gunther visibly looked conflicted, but he held his tongue. “Now you know I don’t think that’s a great idea.” He struggled to find his words, “I-�� he sighed. “It would not be a long trip, not over a few hours. It’d be like a walk around the perimeter, and I’d want you and the rest of the party to be armed in case of an attack.”

“Of course. All of that sounds reasonable.” The Captain was surprised at his willingness, trying not to show their eagerness.

They watched as Gunther thought, seeing how hard of a decision this was for the normally erratic gunner.

“While we are outside the wall, I ask that you follow my exact command. I don’t want you straying from the group, and if something starts while we’re out there, I want you to fully listen to me. I will not have you dying out there because you’re stubborn. Understood?”

They saluted the man, “A hundred percent, boss.”

He sighed, “The others are not going to like this Cap, we’re taking a huge chance that could cost a life.”

“Every mission does. Let me talk to them.”

The two approached the exit of the small med-bay. Before they left the Captain turned to him,

“Thank you for making me feel like I can be of some help Gunther.”

He only nodded before walking away.

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

They hadn’t realized how far behind they had become. The dust from the attack had made it so difficult to see much of anything. The group that they had fought off hadn’t returned, and the area around them fell into an uneasy peacefulness.

Their whole body froze. In their disorientation, they had stumbled into the original landing site.

Memories came flooding in from that day. So much relief, pure joy and pride that they had finally made it to their new home.

After everything. Eternities. Life times.

They finally made it.

‘oh’ a realization dawned on them.

‘this is it…’

At once they understood why he was so afraid to lose them.

They wouldn’t come back if they died here. There shouldn’t be another try once things fade to black.

An unfamiliar emotion flooded their mind, as a tear rolled down their face.

The world looked dark through their visors. The tinted glass normally went unnoticed, that’s just how things looked. They had forgotten that there was a world that looked different from what they were used to seeing. A crack slipped down the front of their helmet, negating the pressurizing properties.

It slipped off of their head with ease, showing their horribly disheveled hair and face.

Their helmet hung limply in one hand, with their pistol in the other.

‘No more hiding then.’

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

Mark ran through the barren field, hoping to catch a glance of their uniform.

He left the truck with Gunther and his team so they could take the wounded back to base. He would then come find Mark with the other leads and a medical team.

He stopped hoping that they were alive, the mere thought of anything else crushed him.

He wasn’t sure why he was running this way, but something inside of him knew that he had to.

He approached the old landing zone.

When they first abandoned it, he became emotional. Too many memories associated here. Too many feelings he didn’t fully understand.

Re-entering it now he felt nothing, other than the desperation to find them.

He halted abruptly. Their uniform stood out, their whole presence seemingly glowing. His mouth went dry, and his eyes welled with relief.

There they were.

His chest rose and fell, trying to catch his breath. Their hair was a mess. Their uniform was tattered with tears and scrapes. And their face was covered in dust, sweat, and blood.

But never had he loved them more.

He called out to them, catching their attention before running to them.

Their shocked smile was brilliant, making the destroyed scene around them fade away.

He hadn’t even made it halfway to them.

A loud bang ricocheted around the open area, the sound bouncing off the walls and rubble. He hadn’t been able to move fast enough, he hadn’t seen what had happened, nor the assailant a few yards behind them.

Their body froze in place. Their face now a ghostly pale, and they wore a blank expression.

His scream must have shocked some life back into them, as their eyes drifted between Mark and the dark red wound in their abdomen. Their hand touched it gingerly, pulling back to see their stained glove.

Looking back up at him, they felt their body give out from under them as they fell to their knees. Their helmet crashed against the ground, the crack growing and shattering upon the impact.

Mark’s knees skidded against the ground as he crashed into the ground next to them.

“No no no nono, you can’t do this- this isn’t happening.”

They reached for him before they collapsed further.

“M-ark-” they said breathlessly. "Yo-u came ba-ck". They spoke with a pained smile, tears streaming from their eyes.

His arms wrapped around them, holding them upright in a determined embrace.

“You’re going to be fine Cap- You’re gonna make it out of this. You've survived way worse.”

The Captain gasped under him, not fully able to catch their breath. They had begun to go into shock as the pain in their body slowly went numb.

“I’m not sure I can”

“Do not say that- I forbid you from saying that. Everythings going to be fine and we’re going to make it through this- You are not going to die out here.”

“Mark, it’s okay-”

“I can carry you back to base, there's still time-”

He scrambled to press on the wound, hoping that the pressure would halt the bleeding.

“Mark- I understand now–”

“Stop Captain, just breathe.”

“Mark, s-stop. Let me say this. I understand why you were so scared, I get it now.”

“No you don’t, just stop- please Cap.”

“You’ve always been an- amazing- friend. And I would never trade everything we’ve been through if it meant losing you.”

“And I’m so sorry I didn’t understand it sooner.”

Mark's tears fell from his face onto the Captain’s, combining with their own.

He sobbed.

“Please stop-”

“You’re my partner, my best friend. And I’ve never held what happened against you. I never blamed the warp core on you, I couldn’t. Despite all of the pain and heartache we went through, I know that I never would have gotten to meet the person you are.”

Their mind began to slip away from them as they paused, their breathing became less labored.

"I'm so happy that I got all of those eternities with you, I wish I was able to love you for a little while longer.”

“Don’t” he said, “please don’t say that.”

“I love you, Mark.” their vision began to go dark in the corners. “I always will. And I think I always have. Remember that for me, okay?”

It hurt him so much to watch them die in his arms. But no matter how much it did, he wasn’t going to miss his last chance to tell them.

He couldn’t respond. Couldn’t confess while they lay dying in his arms. He so desperately wanted to. But he couldn’t.

”Promise-" he choked back a sob, "to wait for me, okay?”

“I will.”

They weakly reached their arm up to touch his face, forcing their body to move up slightly.

Their eyes looked deeply into his, swirling pools of color and memories reflecting admiration and love that words could never describe.

He leaned down to meet them where they were, their foreheads pressed against each other.

The kiss they shared wasn’t anything amazing, it wasn’t earth shattering or magical like in fairy tales. It was short, and weak. The Captain had so little left, and they wanted to give all of it to him.

When their eyes closed, they didn’t open again. That moment had been the last thing they were going to do in their life. As their body relaxed and a final breath slipped from their lips, a smile was present on their face as they let go.

When the rescue team finally reached the two, it was far too late. No technology they had could fix them. Gunther had returned with the group, only to find Mark cradling the Captain in his arms. Celci and the medics rushed over, only to discover there was nothing more that they could do.

“they’re gone.” he mumbled quietly.

No one could believe it. Celci crashed into Burt, sobbing violently into his chest. Gunther had stumbled backwards, and the two medics caught him before he fell.

Mark hadn’t looked away from them. They didn’t look dead, they looked peaceful and like they had just fallen asleep in his lap. Their face was still pressed to his chest as it had been that morning.

His body refused to react to what was happening around him. Not to the CC’s cries, or Gunther mumbling to himself, or to the cheers of victory in the distance.

Burt and Gunther approached Mark after a while.

Burt spoke softly to the broken man. “We have to move them. They deserve a proper send off, Mark.”

“I don’t want to let go.”

They knew it wasn’t going to be easy for him. It wasn’t going to be for anyone. But they needed to get back to base.

Gunther kneeled down on the other side of the Captain, “then let me help you carry them.”

Mark sat silently for a second, before nodding. Gunther carried most of the Captains weight, as Mark wasn’t mentally strong enough at the time to support them. Despite how difficult it was to carry them while having to account for the weight while Mark was still there, he didn’t rush him. It wouldn’t be fair to.

Once they made it to the back of the truck, they rested the Captain’s body on the makeshift gurney that was set up. Mark sat the closest, still holding their hand as they laid dead.

Celci had to ride up front with the other medics, as she couldn’t hold herself together when she saw them. No one could blame her.

Burt and Gunther climbed in the back with Mark. As Burt sat down, he placed their helmet to the side of them.

The ride back was almost silent. What could anyone say in this situation? Mark was so fragile, their reality had not fully hit him. He knew, and at the same time he didn’t.

Gunther wanted to apologize, for letting them leave with the party, for giving in to their idea. However, before he could, Mark finally spoke.

“They were happy. They smiled as they..." He looked up at the other two, his brown eyes, red and glazed. “They're happy.”

Epilogue:

*Contains mentions of cremation and ashes and things made from them. If this makes you uncomfortable, continue at your own discretion. This is not crucial to the story*

A week later the colony held a ceremony, partly to celebrate the end of their war with the species, and to celebrate the life of the Captain and all who also fell during the attacks.

The aliens, or the group that was left of them, announced their surrender. One of their members had spoken out against the rest of the arsenal days before the final attacks, as they saw how there was no point to the incessant fighting as it was just out of rage, and believed that it would just result in their extinction in the end. They were not alone in their belief, and they gathered a large following of those who believed that they could no longer afford the battle and refused to continue. The rest that still wanted to fight, did so until there was no one left.

Mark didn’t speak for days. He rarely left his quarters.

The Captain’s body had been cremated, as there was no place to properly bury them. There was a final viewing, one for the colonists, and a separate one for those closest to them.

The leads had to gently coerce Mark to join them, not wanting him to regret not seeing them in the future.

He would come to appreciate it years later.

Each of the leads had been given a trinket or piece of jewelry made from their ashes, a project set up by Burt and some of the other engineers. A few colonists had been jewelers during their lives on earth and offered to help out.

Celci received a necklace with a small star as its charm, made from the compressed ashes. She rarely removed it even years later.

Gunther was given a fake bullet with some of the ashes contained inside and the nickname they had given him engraved on the side. He kept it at his residence, inside of a memory box with pictures of the group and a few other trinkets.

Burt asked for a simple container charm which he kept in a small box along with other things that the Captain had given him or reminded him of them.

Mark’s piece was the largest. A matching ring set and a similar necklace to CC’s, just with two stars instead of one. He was also given the rights to the remainder of the ashes, seeing as he was the next in command and their closest friend, so that he may choose what happens to them.

He held onto them for a few years before he decided to spread them outside of the newly built capital building. He also spread some at the park which was built in the original landing site.

Lastly, he kept the small amount that was left. Placed in a small urn shaped like a helmet. He kept it by his front door so he could always greet them and say goodbye before he left. A small portrait hung above it. It wasn’t anything professionally done, as the professional photos taken by the academy was of a much younger Captain. Instead, it was a picture of them and the other 3. It was slightly blurry, and CC and Mark were glaring at each other while the Captain and Gunther were laughing at them. It was taken the first day the team had met.

While Mark was going through their files he found a picture of just himself and them. It was after the conference where they had been assigned to captain the Invincible II. It was an impromptu selfie taken on their personal phone after they had met at a bar to discuss more details. He remembered it being so awkward until they realized that they were both dorks and dropped the whole professional act. They both looked so excited for the upcoming mission.

He found hundreds of pictures, some of themself, some of him, mostly of things that were going on. He was surprised to find pictures from loops that had happened during the warp core incident. When he brought it up to the lady from the USA she was equally shocked, but thankfully didn’t ask that Mark delete them. Very few remembered all that had happened, and she decided that no harm could happen so long as the pictures didn't get out.

Mark trained the next generation of Captain’s and Crew leads. And when they were ready he was excited to pass on the torch.

“Captain Mark-”

“That’s never been my title kid, try again.” he teased.

They sighed, “Head Engineer…”

“What’s going on kid?”

“I’m nervous.”

They stood behind a curtain on a stage in front of the colony.

“I’m nervous that I’m not going to live up to them, that I won’t be enough.”

“Believe in yourself. There’s no instruction manual to do things perfectly. You just have to believe that you can do it.” He looked at the young Captain, “Because I believe that you can. I see so much of them in you, it's shocking at times.” He said, chuckling lightly.

He placed his hand on their shoulder before making his way out to the podium, “You’re going to do great, Captain.”

The crowd cheered at Mark’s appearance. Quite a few had remembered what he had done for the colony on a first hand account, many others had only heard stories. Celic, Burt, and Gunther were sitting behind him on stage, after announcing the young successors who would take their title. As he began to speak, the stadium went deadly quiet. He rarely did speeches, and all wanted to know what their “Head Engineer/Co-Captain” was going to say.

“I’ve previously shared how I feel about this new generation, how I am ready to see what they’ll do and how they will lead. I’m excited for this colony. This is a new chapter, a new beginning. We’ve grown so much these last few decades. And we’ve lost a lot as well.

There is no beginning without an end. There can never be growth if we do not fall at times. Change is inevitable, and it is scary, but it should be welcomed. As I pass on my standing as head engineer, and pass on the title of Captain, I can’t help but grow a little emotional. My Captain was…the best person I could ever have asked for. They were remarkable, kind and intelligent in every situation. However, I look forward to seeing what our new Captain will bring. They have a fire comparable to my dear friend. They have a drive so powerful and determined, and a compassion that makes me sentimental. And I am certain that they'll do amazing things.

So, it is my honor, and privilege to introduce them to you all.”

The young engineer stood waiting at the other end of the stage waiting for her partner to be announced on stage.

Mark gave her a look as the new Captain crossed the stage to speak. The two shook hands before Mark went to join his successor.

As they spoke, Mark whispered, “You two have a connection. Never let that go, but also remember to not let it get in the way of things. I made that mistake.”

“Of course Sir.”

He chuckled, “I tell you this because I see a lot of myself in you, try not to give them too hard of a time alright? But also, be an absolute ass, trust me it’s incredibly fun.”

Cheers shaked the stadium, and Mark couldn't stop the pride growing in his chest, even if he wanted to.

She laughed, “Oh absolutely. Thank you Mark.”

“Good luck, Head Engineer.”

More time had passed, and Mark was now retired, living out his remaining days recounting stories of the past. Books had been written about their journey, about the Captain. He was happy that their story was being told.

Few of the original crew remained, although Mark was the last of the crew leads. Celci and Gunther visited from time to time until they passed. Himself and Burt enjoyed the end of their engineering career before Burt had died.

And when it was his turn, he was no longer afraid. Dying over and over again desensitized it to him a long while ago. Years passed, and Mark never took off the ring, as he wore the other one around his neck hanging from the simple chain. It still hurt that the Captain was no longer there. That they couldn’t see what the colony they loved was becoming. But as time came and went, he began to accept his reality. And as he grew old, he hoped that he wouldn’t wake back up in his cryo pod. He was content with where this lifetime had taken him. He was happy.

Besides, someone was waiting for him on the other side. He held their helmet between his hands as he began to drift, ready for whatever was going to happen next.

He awoke surrounded by a white mist. An initial worry echoed through him that they hadn’t been successful in the destruction of the Warp Core; he began to expect the worst.

Thankfully, this wasn't his cryo pod. However, he wasn't really sure where he was at all. Looking down at his hands he noticed that they were no longer wrinkled and worn. His beard had returned to its original dark brown.

“Took you long enough huh, asshat?”

Mark whipped around. Before him an uninjured friend stood expectantly. Their uniform was pristine, and their face was everything he had remembered. They held their arms out wide. He stood frozen for a moment, finding it impossible to believe that they were really there.

“Come on slowpoke,” they joked, “I’ve waited this long, I don’t want to have to wait any longer.”

Their laugh filled his chest with a long forgotten fondness.

Crashing into their arms, he couldn’t stop the flow of tears that poured from his eyes.

With his head buried into the nape of their neck he could feel the flow of their voice against his ear.

“Don’t worry, Mark.” They shushed, “I’m not going anywhere.”

They stood together like that for an undetermined amount of time, until he was certain that they wouldn’t disappear if he let go. He still didn’t, and he probably would never let go of them again, but he did take a small step back. Enough to look them in the eyes, a small tearful glaze enhancing their vibrant color. Never had they looked more alive than right now.

"I love you too, Captain." he said after a while, “I wanted to say it then, but I couldn’t find the words.” The confession pulled more tears to the corners, bubbling emotions finding their way to the surface.

They smiled at him. The captain’s hand reached up to hold Mark’s cheek, brushing the tears that were streaming down Mark's face away with their thumb.

“I know.” they confessed. “I knew then too.”

“I wish you would have said something sooner you ass.” He jabbed.

They brought his head down to their lips, so they could plant a soft kiss to his forehead, before bringing theirs down enough to press their own forehead against his.

“I knew long before, I think. I was just afraid I was going to lose you again.”

They pushed themself away before dramatically gasping, “The nerve! And I thought we were having a sweet moment!”

Neither of them were able to keep a straight face for long, laughing at their own stupidity as they pulled each other back in. Their toresos fit seamlessly together as though they belonged there. Mark's hands held the backs of the Captain's arms, as their hands rested along the front of his uniform. After a moment, they pulled themselves the rest of the way in.

The movement was slow, but it was nowhere near hesitant. They both understood that they had all the time they needed. Nothing had to be rushed. No one was going anywhere this time.

Though not spoken aloud, they shared one thought.

“This was worth the wait.”

Either of them could have said it, but they didn’t need to.

The kiss shared between them made that clear.

When the two separated, their faces didn’t stray far from each other. Simply pressing their foreheads back together. There was no war to fight. No colony to command. No wormholes. Just each other.

And, for the first time in years,

They were happy.

A.N: Thank you for reading! This was definitely labor of love, and I will still probably want to add and change thing, but I'm posting it as it is for now. I hope you've enjoyed! Don't worry, I have some other ideas cooking up so I shouldn't disappear again for a while.

Till next time! -Soup

#in space with markiplier #iswm #markiplier #head engineer mark #iswm captain #captaineer #fluff #major character injury #major character death #hurt/comfort #hurt/little comfort #angst #angst with a happy ending (Epilogue)#no i am not sorry #yes I did cry #soup stories

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