#I struggled the most with talking about her in past tense it just didn’t make sense

[timetohealit]

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[valkyriexo]

Silence | Bang Chan

ᑉ³pairing; Boyfriend Chan x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Angst , Smut

ᑉ³warnings; SMUT MDNI ,dirty talk, swearing, Fingering, oral f reciving, begging

ᑉ³Authors Note; 1k event Commisson giveaway winner @chrizzztopherbang (sorry it took so long :((( )

The restaurant was bustling, filled with the chatter of people enjoying their Friday night.

But at your table, a tense silence hung in the air.

Your parents sat across from you, glancing at the door every few minutes, waiting for the man they’d heard so much about. But as the minutes ticked by, Chan’s absence became glaring

Your stomach churned with anxiety, but you kept a smile on your face, holding onto the thin hope that maybe he was just running late. He had to be coming—this was the night you were finally introducing him to your parents, the people who mattered most to you.

Your phone sat face-up on the table, dark and motionless. No missed calls. No texts.

Not even a simple message to say he wasn’t coming.

You checked your phone again, the light of the screen glaringly bright in the dim restaurant. Nothing. He hadn’t reached out. No explanation. No apology. You swallowed the growing lump in your throat, trying to keep the disappointment from showing on your face.

Your mom glanced at her watch, then back at you with a sympathetic smile. “Honey, maybe he got caught up in traffic or something. We can wait a bit longer.”

Your dad, on the other hand, wasn’t as forgiving. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his face a mask of thinly veiled frustration. “It’s been nearly an hour. If he can’t even make it to dinner with your parents, what does that say about him?”

You opened your mouth to defend him but stopped. You couldn’t deny that this wasn’t just an isolated event. Over the past few weeks, Chan had been slipping—forgetting dates, canceling plans last minute, or worse, just not showing up. But tonight, of all nights, was different. He knew how important this was to you. To both of you.

And he still wasn’t here.

It felt like a punch to the gut. You’d been nervous about tonight for weeks, planning every detail in your head. Your parents had flown in just for this. And Chan, the man you’d been dating for months, wasn’t even here

“Maybe something came up…” you offered weakly, though the words felt hollow, even to you.

Your dad sighed, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, a man who cares about you doesn’t let ‘something’ come up on a night like this. He makes time.”

The words stung because deep down, you knew he was right. You’d been making excuses for Chan for weeks, convincing yourself that his work, his schedule, was just overwhelming, and that it wasn’t personal. But this? This felt personal.

Your mom reached across the table, squeezing your hand gently. “We don’t have to stay, you know. We can reschedule, or…”

The thought of leaving without even hearing from him made your stomach drop. You wanted to brush it off, pretend like it didn’t matter, but it did. You wanted your parents to see the man you loved, to understand why you were so devoted to him. But right now, even you were struggling to remember that reason.

The waiter approached, a polite smile on his face. “Are we ready to order, or should I give you a few more minutes?”

You hesitated, glancing at the empty seat beside you, before shaking your head. “No, I think we’re ready.”

The rest of dinner was strained, your parents trying to keep up light conversation, but the tension in the air was undeniable. Every few minutes, your eyes drifted to your phone, but it remained painfully silent.

No word from Chan. No explanation.

By the time you made it back home, the weight of the evening settled heavily on your shoulders. Your parents had been kind—understanding, even—but their disappointment lingered. You could feel it in the hug your mom gave you before she left, the look your dad gave you as he told you to "think about what you deserve."

And he was right. You deserved better than this.

When you finally walked into your apartment, the quiet was suffocating. You dropped your bag on the couch, sitting down with a heavy sigh, staring at the blank screen of your phone once more. A million thoughts raced through your head—maybe something had happened, maybe there was a reason he couldn’t make it, maybe—

Your phone lit up, and your heart leapt for a split second. But it wasn’t Chan. It was a notification from some random app, and the disappointment hit you like a wave.

You leaned back against the couch, the realization sinking in. He hadn’t forgotten tonight. He’d just… not shown up. And the worst part was, he hadn’t even bothered to tell you.

There was no last-minute excuse, no frantic apology, no explanation. He had simply left you waiting.

You didn’t know how long you sat there, staring at nothing, feeling the weight of it all. But eventually, the front door opened, and Chan walked in, looking exhausted but casual, as if it were any other night. He saw you on the couch and smiled, dropping his keys onto the table.

“Hey, sorry I’m late. Long day at the studio,” he said, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t even look guilty.

You blinked, staring at him in disbelief. “Late? You didn’t even come.”

Chan frowned, confused. “What are you talking about? I’m here now.”

“You didn’t come to dinner,” you said, your voice shaking with a mixture of anger and sadness. “I waited for you. My parents waited for you.”

It was as if the weight of what you were saying finally hit him. His eyes widened, realization dawning. “Shit, wait—dinner. That was tonight?”

You stood up, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yeah, it was tonight. The dinner where you were supposed to meet my parents for the first time. The dinner we planned weeks ago. And you didn’t show up.”

His face paled, guilt creeping in, but it wasn’t enough. Not this time. You had waited, excused, and forgiven too many times before.

“I’m sorry, I really am. I didn’t mean to—” Chan started, but you cut him off.

“No, Chan. You didn’t even tell me you weren’t coming. You didn’t call, you didn’t text. You left me sitting there, waiting, with no idea where you were.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but you shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep being the one who waits.”

Chan’s expression crumbled as he stepped forward, but you took a step back. “Please, I’ll make it right. I swear—”

But you’d heard it all before. And this time, it wasn’t enough.

The silence that followed your words was thick, suffocating. Chan stared at you, his face twisted in guilt, but it wasn’t enough this time. Nothing he could say would make up for the way you felt tonight—alone, forgotten, like an afterthought.

"I said I’m sorry, okay?" His voice was low, almost pleading. But the apology felt like it was more for his own peace of mind than for you.

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. "Sorry? That’s all you have to say? You didn’t even care enough to send me a text, Chan! You didn’t care enough to let me know you weren’t coming to meet my parents!"

“I do care—” he started, but you cut him off, voice trembling with the frustration and hurt you’d been bottling up for weeks.

“Do you? Do you really? Because it feels like I’m the only one putting any effort into this relationship!” The words spilled out before you could stop them, years of unsaid feelings finally surfacing. “I’ve been bending over backwards for you, making excuses for you, and for what? For you to just forget about me over and over again?”

Chan’s jaw clenched, his eyes flickering with anger, but he kept his voice calm. “It’s not like I’m doing this on purpose. I’m trying to juggle everything—the studio, the group, the deadlines—it’s not easy.”

“Don’t you dare try to make me feel guilty for that.” Your voice cracked, and you took a step toward him, fists clenched. “I’ve been patient. I’ve understood every time you’ve had to cancel plans, every time you’ve been late because of work. But this was important, Chan! You were supposed to meet my parents! You were supposed to be there for me for once!”

He flinched, as if your words physically hurt him, but he still tried to defend himself. “I know it was important, but I can’t always be everywhere at once. I’m doing my best, and sometimes things slip through the cracks.”

You stared at him, feeling a bitter mix of anger and heartbreak. “I shouldn’t have to feel like I’m slipping through the cracks in your life.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Chan’s face softened as he realized how deeply he had hurt you. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. You could see the guilt in his eyes, but it was too late. The damage was done.

You turned away from him, your arms wrapping around yourself, trying to hold in the tears that threatened to spill. “I need space, Chan. I need to think.”

“Wait,” he said, stepping forward, his voice desperate now. “Don’t shut me out. Please, we can talk about this.”

You shook your head, your voice cold and distant. “There’s nothing to talk about right now. I just… I need time.”

Without another word, you walked past him, retreating into your bedroom, leaving him standing alone in the living room, guilt and frustration etched across his face.

The next few days were a blur of silence. You avoided Chan’s calls, ignored his texts, and when you saw him, you barely acknowledged his presence. The silent treatment weighed heavily on both of you, but you weren’t ready to face him. Not yet. The sting of being let down, again and again, was too fresh.

At first, Chan tried to give you space, respecting your need for time to process. But as the days went on, he began to grow more desperate. The messages started coming more frequently—apologies, explanations, everything he could think of to get through to you. But you remained silent.

One night, you were sitting in your living room, laying on the couch and scrolling through your phone aimlessly, when you heard a knock at your door. You didn’t respond, hoping he’d go away, but then the door opened slowly, and Chan stepped inside.

He looked exhausted, his usual confidence replaced by an unmistakable vulnerability. He stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say, before finally sitting down at the edge of your bed.

“I know you’re mad,” he started, his voice low and hesitant. “And you have every right to be.”

You didn’t say anything, keeping your eyes glued to your phone. But the tension in the room was thick, and you could feel him watching you, waiting for some kind of response.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I messed up. I know I did. And I can’t stand that I hurt you like this. I’ve been trying to fix it, but I don’t even know where to start anymore.”

Still, you said nothing, but your heart ached at the sadness in his voice. You wanted to forgive him, to let it go, but a part of you needed him to understand just how deeply his actions had hurt you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. “I’m so sorry I made you feel like you don’t matter. Because you do. You’re the most important person in my life, and I hate that I’ve made you feel otherwise.”

You glanced up at him, and the sight of him—his eyes red, his face etched with regret—made something inside you soften. But you weren’t ready to give in just yet.

“I don’t know if I can keep doing this,” you said quietly, finally breaking your silence. “I can’t keep waiting for you to show up, wondering if I’m ever going to be enough to make you prioritize me.”

Chan’s eyes widened, and he shook his head quickly. “You are enough. You’re more than enough. I’ve just been so caught up in everything that I lost sight of what’s really important.”

He reached out, taking your hand gently, and for the first time in days, you didn’t pull away.

“I can’t lose you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know I’ve been an idiot. I know I’ve let you down more times than I can count, but I’m begging you… please don’t give up on us.”

Tears stung your eyes as you looked at him, the vulnerability in his expression breaking down the last of your defenses. You could see how much he meant every word, how deeply he regretted the pain he’d caused you.

“I don’t want to give up on us either,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “But something has to change, Chan. I need to know that I can rely on you, that I matter.”

“You do,” he said quickly, his grip on your hand tightening. “I swear, things will be different. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll be better. For you. For us.”

Before you could respond, Chan sank to his knees in front of you, his eyes locked on yours. The raw vulnerability in his expression made your heart ache. “Please,” he said, his voice breaking. “I know I’ve let you down. I know I’ve been a mess. But I’m begging you, please don’t give up on us. I need you. I’ll do anything to make this right. Just give me a chance.”

You stared at him, shocked by his sudden desperation. The image of him on his knees, pleading with you, was almost too much to bear. The hurt was still fresh, and though his words and actions were sincere, you struggled with the weight of what he’d done.

You looked down at Chan, kneeling before you, his eyes filled with a mix of regret and desperation. His plea hung in the air, heavy with unspoken promises and fear. You could see how much he wanted to make things right, but the pain and disappointment you felt were still raw and unsettling.

“I don’t know, Chan,” you said finally, your voice wavering. “I want to believe that things will be different, but I’m not sure if I can just forgive and forget. You’ve let me down so many times. How can I be sure this time will be any different?”

Chan’s face fell, and he lowered his gaze, his shoulders slumping. “I understand if you’re not ready to forgive me. I really do. But please, just give me a chance to prove it to you. I know I’ve been a fool, and I’m sorry. I’ll work every day to show you that I’m worth your trust.”

Your heart ached at the sight of him, so vulnerable and earnest. You wanted to believe him, wanted to reach out and pull him up from his knees, but the scars of past disappointments were still fresh. You needed to see more than words. You needed to know that the change he promised was real and lasting.

Before you could voice your doubts, Chan moved closer, his eyes never leaving yours. The intensity of his gaze was disarming, and you felt your resolve waver as he closed the distance between you. He reached out gently, cupping your face with his hands, his touch warm and tender.

As he leaned in, his breath mingling with yours, you felt a surge of emotion that you couldn’t ignore. You wanted to push him away, to maintain your boundaries, but the vulnerability and sincerity in his eyes made it hard to resist. When his lips brushed against yours, it was soft and hesitant, a plea for forgiveness more profound than words could convey.

You hesitated for a moment, your mind racing with conflicting thoughts, but then you found yourself responding, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was both passionate and desperate. The connection was electric, and for a brief, fleeting moment, it felt like the world outside ceased to exist.

Chan’s kiss deepened, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you closer. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he seemed to pour all his remorse and longing into that single, heartfelt kiss. It was as if he was trying to erase the distance that had grown between you, to bridge the gap left by all the unfulfilled promises.

You leaned back, pulling him with you, your body arching into his touch as his hands trailed over your skin. The sensation was intoxicating, and you found yourself lost in the moment, all rational thought fading away. You needed this, needed him.

His hands continued to trail, and one made its way to your clothed heat.

Your breath hitched as you felt him rub you through the fabric, a delicious friction building.

"Channie..." you breathed out, your voice barely a whisper.

"I need you, Y/N," he mumbled, his lips grazing your neck.

The battle raged on around you. Your body ached for him, for his touch, his kisses. As his fingers slipped underneath your panties, the warmth of his skin against yours, you felt your resolve crumble.

You wanted him, needed him, despite all the hurt and disappointment he had caused. In that moment, none of it mattered. All you could focus on was the way he made you feel.

Chan's eyes were dark with lust as his fingers slipped between your wet folds, the pressure of his thumb on your clit making your breath catch in your throat.

"God, Y/N, you're so wet," he murmured, his voice low and husky. " I missed this.."

As he continued his teasing, you could feel yourself giving in, the pleasure clouding your judgment. Your hips rocked against his hand, seeking more, and a moan escaped your lips as he slid a finger inside of you.

"You like that?" he whispered, his lips ghosting over your ear.

"Yes," you breathed out, your voice shaky.

The feeling of his fingers inside you, curling up just the way you liked, was almost too much to bear. His palm pressed against your clit, the heat and pressure driving you wild, his other hand beginning to slip your clothes off.

Your mind raced, conflicting thoughts tugging at you. Part of you wanted to stop this, to keep your walls up and protect yourself. But another part of you needed this, needed him, more than anything.

"I want to taste you.... To apologize with my tounge in places my words couldnt reach," he whispered against your ear

Chan's voice was thick with desire, his eyes dark and hungry as he looked at you. Your mind was spinning, but all you could focus on was how good it felt.

As he sank to his deeper into his knees in front of you, his face inches from your heat, you knew there was no going back. His breath was hot against your skin as he leaned in, and the feeling of his tongue against your folds was enough to make you moan.

Chan was relentless, licking and sucking at your sensitive flesh, his hands gripping your hips to hold you in place. The feeling of his lips and tongue on your most intimate parts was intoxicating, and you could feel the pleasure building inside of you, a delicious heat spreading through your body.

"Fuck, Y/N," he murmured, his voice muffled against you. "You taste so good."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but let out a moan as he teased your entrance with his tongue.

"Channie..." you breathed out, your voice shaky.

You could feel the pressure building inside of you, your muscles tensing as his tongue lapped at your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you.

The pleasure was overwhelming, and you could feel yourself losing control. Your hips bucked against his mouth, and you dug your fingers into his hair, holding him against you.

"Don't stop," you gasped, the words spilling from your lips without a thought.

You were teetering on the edge, your body aching for release but he wasnt gonna let it end there.

He was apologizing right?

You could feel it coming, the sweet relief just out of reach. You needed more, needed him deeper.

"Please," you moaned, the sound desperate and needy.

Chan responded immediately, his fingers pumping faster, his tongue swirling around your clit. He was relentless, his pace increasing, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Your muscles tightened, and the pressure inside you was almost too much to bear.

Then, suddenly, everything went white. You cried out, your body shuddering as the orgasm crashed through you. Your vision blurred, and all you could feel was the intense, pulsing pleasure coursing through your veins.

As you came down from the high, your breath ragged and your heart racing, you could feel the tension in the room.

But that wasnt the end for Chan

He continued to eat you out, wanting to give you another one.

You were exhausted, physically and emotionally, but Chan's hands held you in place, his tongue tracing patterns across your clit. The sensations were too much, and you could feel yourself quickly building toward another release.

"C-Chan," you whimpered, your voice shaky.

"Let go, baby," he whispered, his words sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. "Come for me again."

As his fingers curled inside you, and as he found that perfect spot, you knew you were done for. Your muscles tensed, and the pressure inside you threatened to burst.

"P-Please" You say without thinking, the pleasure taking over any rational thoughts.

"Oh no, no... this is my apology to you, baby. Im going to make you cum until i'm forgiven"

And then, with one final, torturous swipe of his tongue, you were gone.

Over and Over and Over again, until you could no longer remember why you were even mad at him in the first place.

ઇଓ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Taglist | Thank you for your support ♡ | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like ♡ | © 2024 Valkyriexo 

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[xwritingdixonx]

Is It Better To Speak or To Die? | Daryl Dixon |

----------

Masterlist

Summary: After being rescued from Woodbury by Rick's group, you struggle with living a "normal" life in the walls of the prison. The trauma's inflicted on you at the hands of the Govenour drag you to the deepest depths. A certain archer is the onyl one who can drag you back out.

Warnings: slow burn, language, smoking, grief, depression, talk of body scars, implied smut, implied past abuse, Governor (enough said)

Word Count: aprox. 10k

Era: Prison, Alexandria.

Song Recommendation: Cinnamon Girl - Lana Del Ray, Would That I - Hozier

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The survivors of Woodbury had called The Prison “home” for only a week. The war and downfall of the Governor and Woodbury were still fresh in everyone’s gut, though others were making themselves comfortable very quickly. You were not. It was such an irony to you. Taking shelter in a prison as if this world wasn’t a prison. As if the traumas of the past year of survival didn’t hold you by your throat. Your own mental prison.

The bowl you held still warmed your hands. Though you knew no appetite arose in your stomach, you still took the bowl Carol offered just to be polite. Standing alone, your back leaned against the support beam of the gazebo all the benches sat under for meals. You had been a part of Woodbury...but you certainly hadn’t been a part of the community. Not near the end at least.

Most people steered clear of you. Avoiding your tired hardened eyes and threatening gazes. Avoiding the tenseness in your persona. Completely removing themselves from the possibility of having an interaction with the emotionless shell you had become. Others were compassionate, showing you any empathy they could bear. You’d get a polite head nod and warm smile occasionally, though you never returned it.

In Woodbury, no one asked questions, they talked and gossiped amongst one another but never bothered. But at the prison, you were new. Fresh meat. So in turn, you had your fair share of stares and whispers from Rick’s group.

Carol had become your latest bother. In the mornings, just like today, people would slowly make their way to line up for their share of breakfast. Your desire was to simply come out in the crisp morning air and smoke a cigarette, attempting to forget the night of terrors you encountered when you closed your eyes. You’d be sure to isolate yourself a bit away so the smoke didn’t bother anyone’s morning. But Carol simply wouldn’t accept it.

The last few days she’d noticed the lack of breakfast passing your lips. You’d smoke a cigarette and then wait to eat a proper meal for dinner. Reminding her of another certain someone.

She couldn’t make you line up and wait like everyone else. She couldn’t make you come and sit at a table and be social. So, she’d make you your own bowl and walk it over to you, giving you a polite smile, and then walk away. She did this for the past 3 days, catching onto your pattern early on.

“How’s she doing?” Rick drawled as Carol handed him his own bowl of powdered eggs and steamed potatoes. “Can bring a horse to water but you can’t make ‘em drink.” Carol joked back, Rick nodded in response and thanked her for his bowl.

Rick had been keeping an eye on you ever since you’d arrived. Unlike most of Woodbury, who willingly came running out to be rescued, you were found by Rick. The door to the room he found you in had been locked from the outside.

Everything he found out about you from that point had been from the mouths of others. You hadn’t even used words to tell him your name, he had been told by someone else. “Morning.” Rick greeted Daryl who was already almost finished his own breakfast, “Mornin’.” He stood with Daryl, neither of the men having time to sit with all the plans to improve the prison.

Daryl followed Rick’s gaze, noticing the way Rick seemed to be lost in thought. When the gaze ended on you, Daryl scoffed. “Figured that one out yet?” He asked, shoving a spoon of egg in his mouth. “Not yet.” Daryl had tried himself to scramble for puzzle pieces of you but had no success. You didn’t talk. Not a word, not even a whisper. There was a part of him that was intrigued by you, a part of him that wanted to dissect. But there was the other part that told him to mind his business.

“Good morning.” Riley begins to pass by, greeting Rick and Daryl. If the term Southern Bell was a person, that would be Riley. Blonde hair, dark emerald eyes, sweet smile, curvy in all the right places, and a smooth southern drawl. Smooth and sweet, nothing like your jagged sharp edges. Riley had been brought in with the Woodbury group and quickly made herself useful in running her mouth…but also in learning medical. “Morning.” Riley’s green eyes darted in the direction the men were looking. Because how dare their attention be on anyone but her.

“I feel so bad for her…” She commented, putting herself into their conversation. Rick and Daryl both gave each other a glance. Rick wanted to know about you from you. Not from the gossip and storytelling of others. “I swear it’s like her mouth was sewn into a frown when Jackson died.” Riley actually looked quite empathetic when she said this. “Who was that?”

“Her twin brother.”

Rick took a pause from eating his breakfast to let this new information marinate into his brain. Though neither of them asked for it, Riley continued. “When they first got to Woodbury, everything was fine. But then the Governor wanted Y/n to be one of his soldiers.” Using air quotations at the word soldiers.

“Y/n refused over and over. One night, Governor took Y/n and Jackson for a walk outside of Woodbury’s walls and Jackson didn’t come back…Governor said he got bit but…” Riley’s words trailed off as she looked at your stone-like features. “Y/n joined him after that…some people thought he killed Jackson and used it to force her to.” Her tone was uneasy as if the Governor would come to get her if she dared speak of it.

Or maybe she was more afraid of you.

“After that, I mean..” Riley scoffed dramatically and tried to ease the tension with a laugh, “I-I shouldn’t be talking about this anyway.” She gave the men a sheepish smile before swiftly walking away, joining a full table.

"Forgot how much people love to gossip huh?"

"Hmm," Daryl hummed in response. Rick took Daryl's empty bowl and stacked it on his own. "Gonna go give Judy her breakfast, alright?" As he nudged Daryl with his elbow, Daryl responded with a hum that was accompanied by a nod.

Daryl had learned the art of minding his business a long time ago. He didn't want people in his...so why pry into others?

You had finished your cigarette and smushed it into the concrete under your boot, now aimlessly poking around in the texture of the oatmeal. Carol frequently cooked her oatmeal for a tad too long and with too much liquid, giving it a mushy, snot like texture. It gave you another reason to skip out on breakfast but you at least wanted to try.

Daryl watched as you took a bite from the bowl. You moved around the food in your mouth, chewing slowly. The texture on your tongue was enough to turn you away. You looked in the direction of the bench where all of the younger children sat. Some talking with food still in their mouths. Their chattering stopped when they saw you approach like a dark gloomy cloud threatening rain.

Without saying a word, you placed your bowl in front of Patrick, offering him your share. Behind his thick glasses, he looked at the bowl then at you, and smiled. “Thanks Y/n.” You replied with a nod and walked away. Patrick was one of the few people from Woodbury who was consistently kind to you. He was always polite and never treated you any differently. You had actually heard him defend your name more than once. Perhaps he was just too young to feed into it but it was an act that didn’t go unappreciated by you.

And your act towards Patrick hadn’t gone unnoticed by Daryl. It wasn’t as if you had saved his life but you could’ve thrown your share away. Snuck over to the pig's pen and scraped it in. Instead, you gave it to a child.

Daryl would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't intrigued by you. He had never been intrigued by anyone in his life, though he couldn't deny the itch that was the mystery of you.

Two mornings after that one, Daryl had woken up particularly early. Readying himself to go outside the fences. There was a steady whisper amongst his friends the true reason he wondered out of the safety of the prison walls. The thought of The Governor still being alive haunted Daryl’s mind as it did the others. But no one would do what he did nearly every morning. No one except you.

Not many were typically up at this hour. The sun had barely risen and the morning air was still chilly from the night. When Daryl walked out into the courtyard, he didn’t expect to see you. He knew you were typically up earlier than others but not as early as him, not on days like this. You sat on the top of a picnic bench, feet planted where someone would typically sit. You faced away from Daryl but he could see the puff of smoke that typically followed you.

He could tell you weren’t in your typical nature. Despite the circumstances, you typically kept yourself put together. You wore a black long-sleeve fitted to your body and a pair of old gray sweatpants. Your hair was untamed and frizzy, having not been brushed yet. What had you up this early? What had you out of your cell so disheveled? And obviously, in such a rush?

The drag of the cigarette burned the back of your throat. It wasn’t as if you actually enjoyed smoking them. They tasted bad, itched your throat, and the smoke made your eyes water. But it felt as if holding them stopped your hands from shaking so badly every morning. It didn’t. But you’d keep lying to yourself and saying it did. You had woken up from another devilish dream, jolting you awake with a rapid heart and heavy breathing.

Typically you’d sit on the edge of your bed, head in your hands until your heart rate returned to normal. But on this particular morning, you couldn’t sit any longer in those walls, feeling the tightness of their build.

“Mornin.” He greeted you. What was he doing? Why was he even over here? Daryl’s mind ran with thoughts and questions as he awkwardly disrupted your own running mind.

You glanced over at him, your eyebrows furrowing with confusion. Someone disrupting you at this time wasn’t expected. As soon as Daryl saw the harsh glare hit your features, he regretted his decision. He didn’t know what to say to you or what he was doing. Both of your heads turned at the sound of a door shutting, Carol lugging a big pot over to the serving table.

“Carol’s gonna start setting up soon…if ya wanna get outta here.” Your eyes followed Carol for a second before meeting Daryl’s.

Daryl had never seen you face to face, he’d never even spoken a word to you. Your initial glare wore off your face and you gave Daryl a single nod, standing up from the bench. Daryl caught his bottom lip and nervously chewed at it. “M’going…out” Daryl pointed in the direction of the woods, “If ya wanna come.” You glanced between Daryl and the woods and thought for a second before giving him a proper nod.

“Alright. I’ll wait for ya at the gate with my bike.”

It didn’t take long for you to meet Daryl. You’d switched your pants out with jeans and your bare feet with boots. Accompanied with your backpack and a pair of fingerless gloves to fight the chilly morning. You had obviously run a comb through your hair as well.

Daryl appreciated the space you gave him on the bike. You sat an inch or two back, your arms loose around him. Typically when people rode with him they held on tight, maybe a little too tight and too close for Daryl’s comfort, but you didn’t. A steady routine had been built between you and the archer after that morning. Along with a growing friendship.

Carol had picked up on this growing routine. By the fourth day, she began waking up even earlier, packing both of you lunches and a snack as if she were a mother sending her children to school.

The first few days your silence made Daryl uneasy. But soon, he actually began to enjoy your company. He even enjoyed your silence. It came in handy when he was tracking a deer or bunny.

The two of you had created your own language of looks, touches, and whistles. One morning you had gotten separated from Daryl while tracking and the song of the whistle was born.

The once colorful leaves were now a dirty brown and crunched awfully loud when you stepped on them. The early Fall months were slowly becoming even colder which meant being on the lookout for anything edible became far more important. Especially meat. Daryl had begun to teach you how to track on your own, which meant the two of you could cover more ground on the same hunt.

Your footsteps were steady and quiet, your eyes trained on the consistent tussle of the leaves. There was a specific herd of deer that had been on Daryl’s radar that he’d spotted a few mornings ago. Daryl walked a few feet behind you, checking that the tracks you eyed were accurate.

The leaves began to blend together, and the steady path you found was now lost from your sight. You kneeled down and dug the leaves away from the ground hoping the tracks would be embedded in the dirt. But the ground was too cold and dense to be marked with anything. It was when you turned to face Daryl and accept your defeat that he was no longer there.

A sense of panic seized through you. Your eyes scanned around the surrounding tree lines for a sign of his silhouette but you saw none. You’re fine, you told yourself, but the comfort Daryl’s presence provided was now gone and you were beginning to spiral. You didn’t know these woods well and you didn’t know your way back to the prison from here.

Out of sheer desperation, you brought your lips together and let out a two-tone whistle. You gave it a second of silence and just as you were about to repeat, a long one-tone whistle replied back. Daryl quickly came back through an opening in the trees looking as if he had run back to you. His eyes were filled with panic. “Ya alright?” You nodded, seeing him again immediately put you at ease. “M’sorry. Found the tracks, they go off this way.”

Daryl spent a lot of time studying you. It wasn’t intentional…but he couldn’t help but pay attention to every detail. He knew when something was on your mind by the way you dazed off more or the more cigarettes you smoked. Or the way you fiddled with the sleeves of your shirts and jackets. He understood the different expressions on your face and what every one of them meant. You expressed yourself a lot through your eyebrows and eyes. No matter what expression, your eyes were always filled with such sadness. You never smiled. Even on days when Daryl felt good and felt as if he was going to have some major breakthrough, you never did.

Daryl enjoyed what he’d built with you over these last few months but his mind and body were becoming restless. He yearned for you, he yearned to know you. It was like being covered head to toe in mosquito bites. And then someone tying your hands so you’d never be able to scratch them. He wanted to hear your voice and he wanted to see you smile. He told himself that if he ever got to hear you laugh, he’d start praying and going to the prison chapel.

He realized he’d never even seen your teeth before, though it was an odd thought, it would be added to the pile of things that itched and irritated.

Then there were the other thoughts. The bites that itched but also ached and throbbed. He wanted you to sit closer to him on the bike and he wanted your arms tight around his torso. He wanted to hold your hands and stop them from shaking in the morning. He wanted to keep you close after running away from a hoard.

Daryl had spent his time dissecting you like a frog in science class.

Now, he had grown impatient of dissecting. He’d never wanted anyone how desperately he wanted you. You were his sweet tooth craving, you were his stomach-decaying hunger, and you were his fucking mosquito bite. But despite all of Daryls itches and desires, he'd never try to change you. He'd never push you out of the comfort of your silence though he would always be waiting.

The time spent with Daryl had put a piece of you at ease. You’d had grown a special attachment while Daryl had practically sewn you to his hip. The only time you weren’t with him was when it came time to shower or sleep.

You met Daryl every morning at the gate, ready to go wandering amongst the trees or scavenging. Some day's you made it back in time to catch lunch together. Especially if you had an early morning catch and had to get back before the meat went rancid. Most days, you'd find a quiet and safe spot to eat the lunch Carol packed and made it back to the prison before sunset and dinner.

There was peace in this routine...but you couldn't live in this routine forever. There were other duties that needed attention around the prison. The early morning adventures had become less but the time together never changed.

When you weren't enjoying the company of Daryl, you enjoyed the company of the garden. And when it was too late in the day for either of those things, you read books about the garden and thought about Daryl. You learned what crops could be grown in the winter and then looked for their seeds in old gardening stores...with Daryl.

Some, Most, Every night you thought of him. You thought of all the things he'd taught you, of his patience with you, and all the stories he told to fill the air. He'd tell you stories of him and Merle. You wanted to tell him that you knew Merle. That when the Governor locked you away, Merle would come visit you and sneak you food. That he was kind to you despite being such a prick to everyone else.

But no matter how much time and peace Daryl provided, the nightmares never left you. You still woke up with shaky hands and a racing mind and memories of your brother. Although you did cut the habit of reaching for a cigarette. Mainly because your pack was running low and it was becoming impossible to find any more.

Unknowing to you, Daryl had been finding them while scavenging and hiding them in spots you didn't look.

You grabbed the carrot at its very base and pulled it from the soft dirt, a soft snap following. The gloves that kept your fingers from freezing were covered in mud and bits of green. It had rained in the night which made the ground perfectly soft to harvest produce. So, instead of going out this morning, you and Daryl were in the gardens. Well, Daryl followed you to the gardens and wouldn't leave.

"This one alright?" Daryl held up a cabbage with his own gloved hand only a few feet away. You glanced over and gave him a approving nod. He tossed it into the basket that already held a mixture of carrots, celery, and fresh herbs for Carol's cabbage soup.

Carol had become less of a bother to you. In fact, you'd actually created a swift routine with her. You read and researched the books about plants and gardening while she read the ones about cooking. You were the farmer while she got to play Martha Stewart.

"How's it going you two?" Rick and Carol approached the gardens with a little extra pep in their step. The rain fall had made this winter day chillier which meant everyone was bundling up and multiple fires were lit in the courtyard and cell blocks for warmth. "S'alright!" Daryl shouted as he fought with a carrot that seemed to be deep rooted in the ground. From your kneeling position on the ground, you watched Daryl with amusement as he struggled. You would’ve thought that carrot was as big as a egg plant with all his pull and tug.

“You got it Pookie?” Carol teased, Rick and her both getting their own dose of amusement. “M’fine.” With one last pull, the carrot popped from the dirt. “Ya gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’” Daryl held up the carrot, it was about the size of his thumb. You heard Rick and Carol have their own set of laughter, “Maybe you should stick to huntin’ those deer.” Rick said between a few chuckles. Daryl scoffed and tossed the baby carrot into the basket, as he kneeled down to continue picking, he caught your expression.

It was so small he could’ve missed it but he didn’t and he was so glad he hadn’t. You looked back down towards the dirt, a smirk tugging up the corners of your lips and poking your cheeks, dimpling them. For a second, it felt as if someone had punched Daryl in the chest. But it was there just as fast as it was gone.

From that moment on, Daryl wanted nothing more than to feel that again…as did you. You felt foolish. There was this awful gnawing inside you that was telling you every day what you already knew within your heart. He was chipping away at every wall you’d built up and beginning to break down the wall to a very soft spot of you. You had begun to feel like a turtle removed from its shell. Mushy, sensitive, and vulnerable. Gross.

"Hey Y/n!" The youngest Greene girl greeted. The community of the prison had begun to warm up to you. They no longer avoided you like the plague opting to actually say "hello" or "good morning" or maybe even a "goodnight." It had become very well known the closeness Daryl and you held and if people knew, people talked.

You looked up from your current book to Beth standing in the doorway of your cell clutching a small pile of tan books to herself. "Can I..come in?" She awkwardly shuffled her feet farther in and adjusted the books, you nodded. Beth let the curtain that covered your doorway drop and happily took a seat on your bed. You sat up straight and set your book of, Wildflowers Of All Seasons, on the bed beside you. While you adjusted yourself, Beth seemed to be studying your room.

It was more decorated than she had imagined. Your cell was on the upper level, one down from Daryl's. You had a very small wooden nightstand beside your bed that had various half-melted candles. Their wax dripped down the sides and embedded itself into the wood. On the wall across from your bed stood a very slim wooden table.

It was decorated with different trinkets and bottles you'd scavenged, a zippo lighter, and a stack of your growing book collection. Shoved underneath was a wire basket that held all your clothes. Your only 2 pairs of boots and bookbag sat beside it. Your everyday black, fleece-lined jacket was hung off the pole of your bed.

"I found these in the library and thought you might like them." Beth laid out the books on your bed, making it a point to show you every single one of them. Peterson - Field Guide to... They all read. They were very small and slim, a pale shade of tan, with various illustrations on the front pertaining to the title. Perfect to slip into your bag.

"I thought they'd be nice for you to carry when you go out in the mornings." Beth watched as you examined each book, "I wanted to grab them for you before anyone else found 'em." Beth held a very innocent hopeful smile the whole time she spoke to you but your silence was causing her to become uneasy. You picked up a specific one, Field Guide to Animal Tracks. You looked up at the girl and gave her a thin-lipped smile to show your appreciation.

A wide smile formed on her face and she left with a very sweet "Goodnight."

Glenn relieved Daryl from watch tower duty later than expected. It had to of been close to midnight when he got back to his cell. As he walked by your cell, he carefully peeled back your green curtain to check on you. You were a restless sleeper, Daryl heard you almost every night tossing and turning or waking up with a jolt.

Most of your features were concealed by the darkness but from what was visible, you appeared to be in a peaceful sleep. There was a veil of softness to you when you slept. A softness and calmness that never graced you during waking hours. He knew it wouldn’t last very long but he wanted to ensure that at least right now, you were okay. But he could not stand and watch all night. He felt creepy enough.

Daryl noticed the little tan book sitting on his bed as soon as he pulled back his curtain. The moonlight slightly gleamed off the sleek shiny cover. Field Guide to Animal Tracks. As Daryl flipped the book open to its title page, he felt his ears and cheeks warm up. Thankfully the darkness concealed his cheeky smile.

To Daryl. Not like you need it. - Y/n.

The group of deer that Daryl had spotted a month ago was still high on his radar. Though he still had yet to actually catch any of them.

The cabbage soup was still hot in your thermal, emitting a cloud of steam when you popped off the lid. You and Daryl sat in each other's company in your typical spot. A large tree had fallen down just at the entrance to a clearing in the woods providing a perfect resting spot. Had it been Spring or Summer you could only imagine the beauty of the green scenery. But this cold winter didn't provide much besides dry grounds, barren trees, and a frozen pond.

There was a peaceful silence that settled, as it always did. You both ate your soups and turned the pages of your books. Surprisingly, Daryl had actually learned a good bit from the book you gifted and he thoroughly enjoyed it.

"Ask ya something'?" You broke your concentration from your book and looked to Daryl. "Ya know why I started coming out here in the first place, right?"

You took a second to think before hesitantly nodding. "Ya never said anything." Daryl truly never understood why. He never hid it from you but still, you never asked questions. You didn't ask what the notes were on all the maps he had, never asked where you were going, or when you'd be back. But he always knew that you knew he wasn't just hunting deer, he was hunting the governor. "What would ya do...? If you ever got to him?"

Perhaps Daryl had pushed too far. Your head snapped back down to your book, though Daryl knew you weren't actually reading anymore. Your eyes were out of focus and your lips formed a frown. You had never taken the time to think about it. You just knew you wanted him to suffer.

Daryl hadn't spoken another word to you since lunch knowing he had poked at a very sensitive subject. "Wait here a second," Daryl said just as you made it back to his bike. He jogged back into the tree line leaving you sitting on the bike, awaiting his return. Daryl returned soon after, a cluster of bright yellow daffodils in hand. You gave him a puzzled glance but as he held out his hand and said, for you, you felt the urgency to cry. Your nose burning up with tingles and your eyes becoming glazed.

"Thought ya might like 'em, I saw them in your book earlier." Your hand gently took them from Daryl's and you stood still. Very still.

Daryl awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. "They're uh...daffodils, right? Start bloomin' late January into March?" He had secretly been sneaking reads of your books over your shoulder. It was so fast it startled him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into you, every muscle in his body stiffened. Daryl was reluctant to hug you back but he gave into his heart and gently laid his arms around your torso. The large jackets you both wore proved to be a barrier from feeling the true touch of the other.

“Thank you.” Your words were raspy and just above a whisper. Had you not been so close, Daryl probably would’ve missed them. “Course.” His words were mumbled against your shoulder, not wanting to make a big deal. A low groan in the distance disrupted your short moment of peace, telling you it was about time to go.

The sun was beginning to set when Daryl’s bike rode up the gravel path to the prison. The smell of a brewing soup hit your nose as the two of you began to walk closer to the dining area. “Find a table, I gotcha.” Daryl’s hand lingered on your shoulder for a second longer than it typically did. Despite wearing such a thick layer of clothes, it was as if you could still feel his touch. Even after he was already at the serving table striking up a conversation with Carol.

You sat your pack down at the usual table. It was farthest to the left, farthest away from all the other tables. “Mind if we join you?” Glenn asked, he and Maggie both holding a steaming bowl. Just as you were about to take your own seat, a loud chuckle sounded snapping you around.

“Oh come on Y/n.” Two men had been walking past on their way to fetch their own dinners. You recognized them, they were commonly on wall duty at Woodbury. The taller one motioned to the flowers that poked out from the front pocket of your jacket. “You can’t be serious.” You could feel your heart drop to the very pit of your stomach. It was as if your body was preparing you for the merciless mocking that was sure to come.

“You’re telling me the Governor’s number one soldier is walking around with flowers in her pockets?”

Stop.

You wanted to say but the words became a ball in your throat. Your eyes darted off to the side. All of a sudden, you didn’t know where to look or what to do with your hands or how to stand properly on your feet. You knew the truth behind their “jokes”.

You are not soft. You are not delicate. You are not loveable.

“The hell are ya doin?” Daryl had practically appeared out of thin air, putting himself between you and the men. You saw this as an opportunity to make an escape for your cell block.

“We were just teasing man. We were friends in Woodbury, just joking around.” They still had slimy smirks on their faces that only poked Daryl even more.

Daryl was fuming. “Didn’t look like she was fucking laughin’.” He took a step closer. “She never fucking laughs!” Before Daryl could unleash his fiery rage, Rick intervened. Rick beckoned Daryl to walk away, mumbling that everyone was looking. “Hell if I care.” Daryl snapped swinging his arm in the air. He turned on his boot and snatched up your pack that you’d left behind before going off to find you.

Daryl hadn’t found you in any of your traditional spots. He checked your cell, the library, the garden, and even the showers. He asked everyone he walked past if they’d seen you but no one had, it was as if you just vanished. And the thought of that was throwing Daryl into a deep pit.

The prison chapel had been restored and decorated by Carol to be used for the grieving prison folk. She had put as many candles as possible on a long wooden table. They had been burned and replaced so frequently that the wax dripped down the sides of the table and dropped dots on the floor. There were many different pictures of lost family members or lovers littering the table…it was quite depressing truthfully. The glow of the candles lit up the room and cast an orange glow on your sad features.

You didn’t look at Daryl as he sat down beside you.

“Didn’t know you were religious.”

“I’m not.”

It was an odd thing…to hear you speak so openly but Daryl wasn’t opposed. “I just…” Your voice was hoarse and low, as low as a whisper. “I find this a way to be with my brother.” Daryl had gotten so used to silence that it almost startled him to hear so many words come from your lips. You shook back the hair that fell on your face and let out a deep sigh, resting your back flat against the wooden church pew. Daryl didn’t want to speak, he didn’t want to scare your voice away, he just wanted to listen.

“I hope that doesn’t sound foolish.”

“It doesn’t.” Daryl shifted himself closer to you. “It doesn’t.” He repeated, his thigh pressed against yours. And for some reason, you felt the need to spill your guts. Perhaps being in a church would drag you to confess. “I-uhmm…I never fought against the prison. I refused to do any of it. I truthfully didn’t care if he killed me for it.” You didn’t have to explain yourself to Daryl but you felt the need to. If what you felt towards him was what you thought, you had to. “But, he just locked me in my room. Wouldn’t let me out.” Somehow, Daryl knew. He never saw you with the Governor, never saw you fighting. And when Rick told him the locked room he found you in, he pieced it together.

“Everything is true though. Everything they say about me, everything he made me do before that.”

Daryl didn’t care, he never had. Daryl cared that you didn’t want to. He cared about the fact that you were forced to. You shrugged your shoulders and looked off, “I’m as guilty as they come.”

Daryl couldn’t stand the sad look on your face, “Alright then…put yer hands behind yer back. I’ll take ya to your cell.” His joking manner caught you so off guard that a laugh escaped you. It was airy and gentle. He truly couldn’t believe it.

You laughed. And Daryl was in church.

Daryl returned to his serious demeanor to reassure you, “I care about how he hurt ya, Y/n. Don’t care what you did.”

Your eyes found Daryl’s in the dimly lit room and for a second you felt it, deep within your chest. And it ached and feared but it also loved. “Good.” You couldn’t fight the smile that squeezed your cheeks as you looked at him. Your eye contact broke allowing silence to welcome itself back. But only for a short time. “Daffodils are the birth flower of March…Jackson and I were born in March.”

After that night in the chapel, Daryl wanted nothing more than to hear your voice. It felt like his ears were filled with honey every time you spoke. It was raspy yet smooth with a hint of a southern drawl from growing up in Georgia. A thick rich honey that he wanted in a cup of hot tea and to take down his throat.

Winter was soon turning to Spring. The sky was bluer and most days the sun shined. The green of the grass and trees were returning. The garden was beginning to look even more promising come warmer weather. And just as the flowers were beginning to take bloom, so were you.

Your hard demeanor had softened, especially for Daryl. You still didn’t talk to many people besides him but you said a word or two when you wanted. Daryl took it upon himself to give Jackson a “grave” where the others were. It was just two pieces of wood, formed into a cross with his name carved in it, planted into the ground. “So that ya don’t have to go down to the chapel. Ya can be outside with him and the garden and stuff.” He had said when he showed you.

“It’s rotten work trying to find these deer.” You and Daryl strolled the wooded area, eyes on the deer tracks that embedded themselves in the dirt. Daryl shushed you and continued his concentration on the tracks. You smiled to yourself and shook your head. “I was rotten work…at the beginning.”

“Nah ya weren’t, not to me.” Daryl didn’t even hesitate, he didn’t even turn look at you. He just continued walking ahead of you, following the tracks.

The two of you settled in your usual spot. Leaning against the fallen tree at the opening to the clearing in the woods. You were right about the clearing looking more beautiful in the warmth of Spring. The trees were plump with fresh green leaves and the water in the pond sparkled under the sunlight. The grass grew tall with a mixture of white and yellow wildflowers. Your fingers ran the edge of the book page as you turned it.

Your current book was, Field Guide to Medical Plants and Herbs. There was some type of cold floating around the prison and finding the medical supplies to treat it was sparse and you’d do anything you could to help.

Daryl was interrupted from tending to his bow by your elbow jabbing his side. Without looking at him, you held up a folded piece of paper and pen. Daryl gave you an odd glare before plucking them from your fingertips. You did this often. When you couldn’t be bothered to use your voice or if you didn’t want to break concentration from a book.

There’s so many things I want to say to you.

Daryl could feel his heart begin to quicken its pace within his chest. He didn’t know what your words meant but at the same time, he did.

The folded paper got tossed back into your lap.

There’s so many things I want to say to you.

So say them.

Just then, a rustling sound sounded from within the trees from across the clearing. You gripped for your blade as Daryl grabbed for his bow. Two deers came through the trees, their white and tan tails flicking back and forth. You could’ve sworn you heard Daryl stop breathing for a second. Daryl slowly leaned up on his knees, bow in hand raising to his eye. Your eye caught it before Daryl’s did.

Another deer emerged from the trees, a fawn close behind her…and then another. “Don’t.” You brought your hand to Daryl’s bow and lowered it to point at the ground. He went to protest but when he saw the twin fawns happily nibbling at the tall grass, he stopped. It was a beautiful sight, as were you.

When your eyes broke away from the deers and to him, that’s when he decided. Daryl cupped your cheek lightly and met your lips with his. His lips were gone just as fast as they were there but his hand didn’t leave. He was still so close that your lips feathered his. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you pulled him down to you again.

What happened that day was never spoken of. But as Daryl sat in the darkness of the train cart in Terminus, he so deeply wish it had been.

But now, you were gone as was the prison. The look on your face, when the Governor stood outside the prison, was burned into Daryl’s eyelids. The way your chest heaved with anger, your hands shook with rage, and revengeful teary eyes stared off. The last he saw was you slipping out through the prison fence to go after him. Daryl yelled at you to not do it, to come with him, but you didn’t listen. You’d let yourself die if it meant you finally got your hands on him and Daryl knew it.

You could be dead. You could’ve died weeks ago fighting the Governor. You could be out there alone and starving and scared. Or you could be just fine. Daryl would never know.

When Terminus fell and he watched Rick cuddle and kiss Judith in his arms, he had a surge of hope. And when he saw Carol alive, he had more hope. As everyone said hello, it was as if he waited, waiting for you to magically appear. “Nobody has Y/n?” A deafening silence followed, quieter than you ever were. “Daryl…” Michonne stepped towards him. As he went to walk away, she stopped him placing a hand on rising his chest. “Darlyl. I’m not saying she didn’t make it. I’m just saying she didn’t look good.”

“Yeah? And you didn’t help her?” Daryl snapped shoving her hand off his chest. “Get off me.” Daryl seethed with hot tears in his icy blue eyes. It became an unspoken rule to not speak your name around him.

Your hand pressed firmly on the wound that oozed blood down your side as you limped your way into the cell block. Your right side was stained in the crimson color, all the way down to the knee of your jeans. You strained and let out a groan of pain as you took a step up the stairs that led to your cell. You didn’t need to look at yourself to know you looked awful. The walkers that completely ignored your existence when you limped by them told you enough.

Your entire torso throbbed in pain. The bruising from the kicks you took to the stomach were forming and it felt impossible to move. Your head felt like tv static and you had an undying desire to sleep. But you couldn’t. You likely had a concussion and knew that if you slept now, you wouldn’t be getting back up. Besides, you had to find Daryl. There was a hope that he’d stayed in the area and you’d find him if you just looked. You knew the woods around here well, you could find him. He was waiting for you, he had to be.

In your fuzzy state of mind, you threw whatever you touched into your pack. You changed out of ruined clothes and into clean ones. When the collar of your shirt dragged down your face, you let out a whimper of pain as it got caught on your bottom lip. There was a cut that dragged from the under your left nostril, across the left corner of your lips, and ended at the bottom of your chin.

It became a blur how you left your cell safely and ended up on the path Daryl and you walked every morning. You had to get to your spot. The spot with the fallen tree and clearing. Daryl would wait for you there. You were sure of it. When you got there and he wasn’t there, it was okay, you told yourself. You just had to wait for him.

You lowered yourself to the ground, a few whimpers of pain escaping your lips. With your back resting against the tree and arm draped over your mid section, you slipped into unconscious. You awoke to the sound of a man’s voice. “Hey, hey.” He said trying to wake you but your eyelids were too heavy to lift and you felt the weight of every muscle in your body. “Heath! Go tell Laura to bring the car around. We gotta take her back.”

“It’s a ten hour drive back Aaron, you think she’s gonna make it?”

“I don’t know.”

You awoke with a slight jolt. Your chest heaved with heavy breathes as your eyes dilated to the bright and unfamiliar room. Your body ached but the softness of the mattress you laid on seemed to comfort it. “Pete, go get Deanna.” Aaron instructed, sitting up in his seat next to your bedside. Your eyes wandered the room, trying to figure out where you were. “Hey. I’m Aaron. You’re in the infirmary in a community called Alexandria.” You looked to the man that sat to your right. He had a very kind face and gentle eyes. His clothes were perfectly clean and his curly brown hair was freshly washed and fluffy.

“Myself and others were on a trip along the East Coast to look for survivors to bring here.” Aaron clarified further, “We found you and brought you back, you were in really bad shape…you still…you still kind of are.”

Aaron could see the confusion and panic drawn on your face. Your head snapped to the door when you heard footsteps on the polished wood floors. “Hi” Deanna gently said approaching your bedside. “We’ve been waiting for you to wake up. What’s your name?”

Your mouth hung open for a second, your mind still wasn’t clear, and you had no clear memory of the last three days. “Y/n” You finally replied, voice hoarse and raspy. Deanna smiled at you, “Where am I?” You asked finally finding your voice. Deanna and Aaron exchanged a glance, “You’re in a safe community called Alexandria in Virginia.”

Virginia?

You could feel your world begin to tumble, a thousand thoughts racing your mind. You were so far away from Georgia. You were away from home. Away from Daryl. “No.” You attempted to pull yourself out of the bed but were stopped by Aaron softly holding you back. “No, no, no.” You repeated and dropped your head down into your hands as panicked sobs racked your chest. “Pete! Go get her something to calm down.”

You didn’t want pills to help calm down. You wanted to go home. You wanted to be with him. You sat yourself up in the bed despite the pain in your torso telling you not to. “Daryl?” You asked Deanna. She could see the desperation in your teary eyes, “I’m sorry we only found you.”

Aaron sat up from the dirt floor of the barn after Rick had knocked him unconscious. Rick’s group continuously went back and forth with one another debating their plan. Once they finally decided and everyone was being assigned a position, Rick turned to Daryl. “Daryl, go keep an eye-“

“Wait, Daryl?” Aaron interrupted Rick’s order from his spot on the floor. He felt everyone’s eyes on him in an instant. “Daryl Dixon, right? Y-you knew an Y/n?” Daryl stomped over to Aaron and gripped him by the front of his shirt, pulling him close. “How the hell ya know Y/n?” Daryl’s tone was threatening yet shaky. Aaron knew if he didn’t start talking he’d end up back on the floor.

“She’s in Alexandria, she lives with me, she’s safe! A-a little over a month ago, myself and others were on a trip along the East Coast looking for survivors. We found her in the woods down in Georgia.” Aaron took a pause, “She was in really bad shape, we brought her back and she’s been there ever since.”

“She talks about you all the time.” Daryl’s hand shook around the fabric of Aaron’s shirt, his eyes studied his face trying to find any indicator that he was lying. ”I don’t fuckin’ believe ya.” The thought of you being alive and safe comforted Daryl but he wouldn’t so easily believe a stranger. “I’m not lying, I swear.” Aaron frantically said, “She-she gave me something to give to you. It’s in the front pocket of my bag.”

Daryl shoved Aaron back to the ground with a thud. Rick tossed Aaron’s bag to Daryl, practically tearing off the zipper getting into it. Daryl’s unsteady hands pulled out the familiar small tan book. As he flipped open to the title page, he read the words you’d written to another that day.

There’s so many things I want to say to you.

So say them.

As Daryl read the new words you’d written, he could feel the lump forming in his throat.

It was easier to die than to say them.

“I probably should’ve led with that, huh?” Aaron joked attempting to lighten the mood. Rick’s gruff voice responded, “Shut up.”

The sun shined in Alexandria despite the rainstorm that came through the night before. You found yourself where you always were, in the gardens. The heavy rain had bent many of the plants out of shape and the raised wooden garden beds were flooded. The mixture of water and grass squelched under your boots as you examined the damage. With a deep sigh, you pulled out a box of cigarettes from your back pocket along with a zippo lighter. It wasn’t a habit you proudly picked back up. But after the fall of the prison and Daryl no longer being there to help you, it found its way back.

You tilted your head up to the sky and blew the smoke from your lips. You closed your eyes and let the sunlight cast its rays onto your face. And as you did, you tried to imagine that you were standing in the garden of the prison again. That Daryl stood only a few feet away, fighting with a vegetable, and cursing as he did.

“Hey Y/n.”

Spencer disrupted your daydream, standing a few feet away and calling out your name. “Sorry,” He jokingly held up his hands in surrender, “Aaron’s back, he asked for you at the gate.” Aaron had returned to Alexandria several times over the past month with new faces. Every time you’d go to the gate and wait for him to return, your heart full of hope. But every time the same disappointment rained down on you. It was never who you wanted, it was never him. So, when Aaron told you about a group he’d been tracking and trying to bring back, you didn’t care to listen. You saved my ass and now you think you can save everyone? You said to him a few nights ago.

“Going.” You replied bluntly. You wouldn’t allow your hopes to grow just to be smashed into pieces. Your eyes were on the ground as you walked to the front gate, cigarette dangling from your lips, and hair falling in your face. Spencer talked his jaw off beside you, every word he spoke going in one ear and out the other. But the sound of a familiar whistle vibrating against your eardrums perked your head up in an instant.

You tossed your cigarette from your mouth and found your way back to him. Daryl met you halfway, his arms desperately pulling you in close. Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, feeling his shaky breaths on the skin of your own. Your hair was soft and smelled of shampoo. Daryl grasped the fabric of your shirt that smelled ever so slightly of cigarettes.

When Daryl pulled away to look at you, he finally saw the fresh scar drawn on your lips. He wanted to scold you. To tell you how foolish you'd been to go after the Governor alone. "Ya got him?" Was all he could bring himself to ask. You avoided answering but you nodded, "Come on, I wanna go see everyone else."

Despite the group still not fully trusting Alexandria, they felt more at ease knowing you’d been kept safe here. After helping Rick settle the group into the Alexandrian homes, you sat on the front porch with Daryl. Daryl hadn’t let you out of his sight for a second. Everything you did and every where you went, he was there. Besides when Carol shoved him away to shower.

The two of you passed back and forth a lit cigarette, comfortable in the silence of the night air. “Tara asked me about the Governor.” Your words were quiet just incase anyone were listening. Daryl looked to you. “Yeah?” With a deep sigh, you blew the smoke from your mouth. “Yeah…asked what he did to me.”

Daryl could see the way the thought of it dragged your lips into that familiar frown. “Told her I didn’t wanna make her guilty conscious even worse.” You said it as if it was meant to be a joke but Daryl saw through it. “It’s gettin late.” Daryl begin to break you from those thoughts. He was right. The sun had set about an hour ago and everyone was setting up their beds for the night.

“Ya ah….Ya gonna go home?” Daryl didn’t want you to leave, he never wanted to be without you again. “I am home.” There was no hesitation in your reply. Daryl’s eyes snapped to yours in an instant. “Ain’t what I meant.” You stood from your spot and reached a hand out to him, “Come with me.” Daryl glanced between your hand and your eyes. The night was dark and the porch light dim but you could see the rosy color blotch at his cheeks. You lightly kicked his foot with your own, “Just wanna show you where I’ve been staying.”

Your room was in the fully furnished basement of Aaron and Eric’s home. Aaron had welcomed you in, knowing you couldn’t be on your own in your condition. The stairs were on the farthest right wall of the basement, leading you down into a lounge like area with tan carpet and white walls. An L shaped leather couch sat in front of a, now useless, flat screen TV. Past the couch, on the back wall, stood two white doors. Daryl presumed behind one of them laid your bedroom.

You walked him over to the left door and pushed it open. There was nothing special about your room. Simply a bed, two nightstands, a dresser, and a bookshelf in the corner. You sat at the foot of your bed, Daryl took it as a sign to do the same. “I’m sorry Daryl.” Your voice was just above a whisper, avoiding his eyes when you spoke. “I should’ve looked harder for him…I shouldn’t of gotten so distracted.” Your head hung low in shame, “I should’ve talked about that day..in the woods.” The dimly lit room hid the tears that fell from your eyes. “I should’ve said everything I wanted to say.”

“We should’ve.” Daryl corrected you, stopping all your blabbering. Your watery eyes met his with a look of confusion. “Everythin’ ya said. I was there too. S’not all your fault Y/n.” The impact of Daryl’s words made you go quiet. “Ain’t yer fault what he did to you either.”

“I love you.”

Daryl had never shut his mouth so fast in his life. You weren’t sure where your outburst of confidence came from but you didn’t regret it. You accepted it every waking day and every sleepless night you were apart from him. “Nah, ya don’t.” Daryl rejects your confession at the grace of his own insecurity. Your hands raise themselves to his face, a stern look gracing your features. “I have since the prison.”

Daryl didn’t know what to do. He could feel his heart pounding against his chest and the warmth from your hand on his cheek. You gently lean in before connecting your lips with his. When you pulled away, you rested your forehead against his own. If you had just ruined everything Daryl and you had, you at least wanted to bask in his presence one last time. “I love ya too.” Daryl leaned back in, capturing your lips in his.

The night you’d spent together was full of gentle touches and whispers. The only time silence happened was the sleep bestowed upon you afterwards. Your bedroom was dimly lit come morning time. The only windows in your room were up towards the ceiling, just above ground level. For the first time since Jackson died, you woke up peacefully. No panic attack awaiting you, no need to run away and fill your lungs with smoke. Feelings of the night before returned to your mind, memories in vivid detail. Daryl awoke when he felt the movement of the sheet from beside him.

With your back turned to him, Daryl took it upon himself to graze the skin of your bare back with his fingertips. He caught a glance at the deep scarring along your side. The gash had turned into a raised, dark pink, bruised color on your skin. Daryl could see shadow of lines covering its length from the stitches that had held it together.

As his fingertips traveled down, they stopped on another scar. The left side of your lower back was imbedded with the letter “G”. The scarring of the initial raised your skin, though it wasn’t pink and bruised like the other. It had healed to a shade paler than your skin tone. Daryl simply couldn’t believe it. Fucking bastard.

“Branding iron.” You begin, voice slightly rasp from sleep. “Never did it to anyone else…just me.” Daryl’s hand fell from your back, “Come here.” You reluctantly did so, turning to face him. His hand found the side of your face that didn’t rest on the plush pillow. His facial expression’s became serious but his eyes remained gentle. “Ain’t gonna let no one treat you like that ever again. Ya feel like someone breathes around ya the wrong way, you tell me alright?” You playfully rolled your eyes, a cheeky smile forming but you still replied “Alright.”

Daryl thumb drug along your bottom lip, stopping at the pale scar. “Promise ya won’t ever stop doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“…Bein’ happy.”

–––––––––––

A/n: I've proof read this over and over so I hope everyone is able to enjoy it and theres no mistakes! If anyone would like to submit a request, feel free too. If it's a project i'd be willing to take on, I will try my best to get to it.

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Hey!!! I just got the most amazing idea ever!! (probably 🤭) I know that Franco had just lose his grandfather and he had to do FP. And basically everyone (the media & paparazzi just decide to hustle him despite him clearly not wanting to talk or do anything for them. Which is why he wears headphones and cap). So this is more of James with a wife reader. She is practically comforted and was with him since she always does that to everyone. Franco was just so young and she wanted to cocoon him in her warmth. From having bad weather to that awful FP which he crashed and later Alex did the same🙃🙃 Everyone especially the mechanics had to double their work because race starts in like 3 hours after quali. And how can they fix two cars in just that shirt period of time??? Being able to fix one was a miracle, but fixing two? They need to call everyone at the factory it seems😮‍💨😮‍💨 And then Alex not starting the race and Franco struggle in the rain because Williams didn't want to put wet tyres and then later crashed making the stewards flagging the race as red. You know, just a shitty day at the office. Williams out of the race:(( Everyone frustrated, tension arises, more work to do with how the race turns out to be. James admired her about that. Keeping calm, composure and bringing in warmth to everyone at the paddock (maybe interactions with drivers). This is the longest I've ever sent you, so it's up to you how it goes. I trust you. Can be anything you want. Fluff or angst or suggestive. Can be one shot or series. Anything. Just a whole lot of thank you for everything you've ever done for me!!! ❤️❤️❤️ Tag me later!! If you have any questions, just ask me!! I'll be happy to help. Thanks!!! :))

Rain, Resolve, and Resilience

word count. 1.2k

Pairing: James Vowles x reader

AN: Thank you so much for your application i really need that.

______________________________________________________________

The Williams paddock was a storm of activity that mirrored the turbulent clouds overhead. Rain battered the track, but it was nothing compared to the emotional storm inside. Franco, one of the team’s youngest drivers, had only recently lost his grandfather, the man who had nurtured his passion for racing from the start. Now, Franco was expected to push through that grief and focus on practice, even as his heart was heavy. The cameras followed his every step, journalists crowding in with pointed questions, ignoring the lines of grief etched into his face. He pulled his cap down low, headphones covering his ears in an attempt to escape, but it was all too much.

Y/n, the beloved wife of team principal James Vowles, saw it all unfold from the edge of the garage. She had spent countless hours at James's side, becoming a quiet pillar for the team in a way only she could. Mechanics and engineers knew they could go to her if the pressure became too much; her presence alone had a grounding, calming effect on everyone. Today, seeing Franco, barely more than a boy, desperately trying to hold himself together as he faced the cameras alone, broke her heart.

She moved toward him gently, slipping past the reporters who still tried to shout questions his way, and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Franco,” she said, her voice calm, almost a whisper. “You don’t have to go through this alone. I’m here.”

Franco’s shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. He managed a grateful smile, his voice barely audible when he replied, “Thank you, Y/n.” He didn’t say more, but she could see the relief in his eyes. Knowing he wasn’t alone in that moment meant everything.

The rain was relentless, and as the team prepared for the practice session, the paddock was tense. Y/n stayed close, keeping an eye on Franco as he prepared to take to the track. She felt protective, wanting to shield him from all the hurt and stress he was carrying. With a deep breath, he climbed into the car, and she watched, fingers crossed, hoping he could find some solace in the race. But as the rain poured harder, the slick track proved unforgiving. Franco’s car spun out on a turn, and he crashed, the impact sending a chill through the paddock. Minutes later, Alex followed, a sickening repeat that left the team reeling.

The Williams garage erupted into controlled chaos. With less than three hours to go before qualifying, both cars were in dire need of repair. Mechanics dashed back and forth, voices rising as they shared updates over radios and called for parts. It felt like an impossible task; fixing one car was a miracle on its own, but two? Every hand was needed, and the tension among the crew was palpable.

In the midst of it all, Y/n was a steady, calm presence, moving through the garage like a breath of fresh air. She approached a young mechanic, shoulders slumped as he stared down at a particularly stubborn part. He rubbed his forehead in frustration, looking close to defeat.

“Take a second,” Y/n said softly, her hand resting gently on his shoulder. “You’re doing amazing. We’ll get there, piece by piece.”

The mechanic glanced at her, finding comfort in her reassuring smile. “Thanks, Y/n,” he murmured, his spirits lifting. She continued to move through the garage, offering words of encouragement to others, giving each team member the strength to push on.

James glanced over at his wife between giving orders, his admiration shining in his eyes. She had a gift, a way of making people feel seen and valued, even when everything felt impossible. He’d often find her in these moments, quietly lifting the spirits of those around her, giving them strength without ever drawing attention to herself. She was the backbone of the team in ways that only he could see.

Back in a quieter corner of the garage, Franco sat alone, hands in his hair as he replayed the crash in his mind. He looked up as Y/n approached, her presence bringing a hint of calm to the chaos within him.

“Do you want to take a little walk?” she asked gently, nodding toward a nearby corridor away from the noise. Franco nodded, grateful for the escape, and they stepped outside into the cooler air.

As they walked, she spoke quietly, her words laced with compassion. “You know, you don’t have to keep this all bottled up. Losing someone you love…it doesn’t go away just because you’re expected to race.” Her tone was soft, non-judgmental, offering him a safe space to express the grief he’d been carrying alone.

Franco took a shaky breath, the weight of the loss settling in his chest. “I just… I wish he was here to see me race,” he admitted, his voice catching. “He taught me everything, and now…” He trailed off, struggling to find the words.

Y/n placed a comforting hand on his back, offering him a moment of silent support. “I think he’d be incredibly proud of you, Franco. You’re out here, giving it everything despite how hard things are. That takes strength,” she said, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

When they returned to the paddock, Franco looked a bit lighter. The time away with Y/n had given him a bit of the peace he needed to keep going.

The rain returned with a vengeance on race day, and the paddock was alive with tension once more. Only Franco’s car had been fully repaired, and the knowledge that Alex wouldn’t be able to start weighed heavily on the team. Despite the pressure, Y/n stayed close, her comforting presence a balm to the team’s frayed nerves.

As Franco took to the track again, Y/n stayed by the garage monitors, her hands clasped tightly as she watched him navigate the rain-soaked circuit. But the track was treacherous, and the decision not to put on wet tires soon proved costly. Franco’s car began to slide, the wet track claiming another victim as he fought to regain control. Y/n’s heart sank as she watched him crash once more, the red flags raised as the race was halted.

The team was devastated. The loss of both cars cast a shadow over the weekend, leaving everyone drained and disheartened. In the paddock, frustration was written across every face, the team grappling with the weight of another painful blow. For many, the temptation to give up felt stronger than ever.

But Y/n, ever the steady presence, moved through the crowd, her calm energy pulling everyone back to center. She listened as mechanics vented their frustrations, offering a word of comfort or a quiet hug to those who needed it most. For the younger team members, she was a constant, a familiar warmth that reminded them they weren’t alone in their struggles.

When James finally made his way over, exhaustion etched into every line of his face, he found Y/n beside Franco once more. The young driver looked up at her, his gratitude clear even in his exhaustion. James watched, his admiration for his wife growing with each passing moment. She was the heart of the Williams family, the one who kept them all grounded when the pressures of racing felt too much to bear.

Y/n looked up at James, catching his gaze with a soft smile that seemed to ease his worries. “We’ll get through this,” she said, as much a promise as a reassurance.

[diazheartsbuckley]

🚫🚫🚫🚫🚫🚫🚫

Hello my dear 💕

A little bit of insomnia fic coming your way 💕

🚫🚫🚫🚫

When Buck realizes that Eddie only sleeps at night if they’re on the phone, he makes it his personal mission to make sure that it happens. He knows that Eddie has admitted that it helps but seeing it in action is another thing. One night in particular stands out to Buck because he catches a glimpse of what Eddie has been trying to handle alone for the past four months.

He sees Eddie stirring in his sleep, tossing and turning in his bed, lips and brows furrowed and even a low whimper escapes his mouth.

Buck never brings it up with Eddie tho, knowing that the fact he has even dared to talk about his feelings is overwhelming enough for him. And they don’t talk about it at work either, not because people can’t know that Eddie is struggling, because most of them have caught on.

But because it feels so intimate. Because it feels like it’s just the two of them in the world when they’re both awake at 2 am, not saying a single word but finding equal amount of comfort in just knowing that the other person is there.

And apparently Eddie talks in his sleep. A lot. Most of it doesn’t make sense but sometimes it does and it’s either immensely heartbreaking or funny. One time, Eddie was mumbling about Shannon’s death and Buck saw his entire body tensing up as it happened.

And Buck wants to ask about it but it hasn’t felt like the right time yet. And although Eddie is the one who often calls him in the evening, even bringing it up feels like a violation of his privacy. Yet curiosity gets the better of him one night when they’re sitting in Buck’s kitchen, Eddie’s fingertip tracing the label on his beer.

“I-…I didn’t really know if this was appropriate for me to talk about but I just couldn’t help but to wonder” Buck starts out carefully, testing the waters.

Eddie lifts his head and tilts it slightly, urging Buck to go on without saying anything.

“You talk about her sometimes in your sleep, you know? Shannon, I mean. And it made me think about how much you must miss her. Everything happened so fast and-..”

“I miss her everyday, Buck. But the reality is that I lost her a long time before she passed away and I don’t know, sometimes that makes it sting even more”

Make me write ✍🏻

Using this as my fuck it friday 💕

Tagged by @tizniz 😘

Np tagging 💕(lmk if you want to be added or removed)

@watchyourbuck, @thekristen999, @theotherbuckley, @wikiangela, @daffi-990, @underwaterninja13, @giddyupbuck, @bucksbignaturals, @bucksbirthmark, @cal-daisies-and-briars, @devirnis, @spotsandsocks, @hippolotamus, @honestlydarkprincess, @namjroon, @jeeyuns, @wildlife4life, @ronordmann, @exhuastedpigeon, @actualalligator, @kitteneddiediaz, @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming, @extasiswings, @princessfbi, @inell, @steadfastsaturnsrings, @actuallyitsellie, @diazsdimples, @epicbuddieficrecs, @pirrusstuff, @elvensorceress, @bidisasterevankinard, @dangerpronebuddie, @jesuisici33, @rainbow-nerdss

[adashoflavendermelancholy]

Hunting

Ace was acting strange. Stranger than normal for him. Which was saying something about the young man. He walked around the ship like a man on a mission. Looking over his shoulder and around corners. Haruta walked up behind him and he leaped out of the way. Leaving everyone confused as to why. Not that Ace answered any of their questions about it. Even when pops asked him, Ace just brushed it off. “Don’t worry about it.” He would tell them. As if that made things easier.

Then it happened. “Strawhats coming in!” The scout called. Marco looked up. Was it time already?

The strawhats pirates had been at sea for a few years now. They had taken the world by storm with all the antics they got into. From overthrowing a government, to stopping someone from taking over a government, they were in the news. Then everything with Nico Robin came to light. Making her one of the most protected women in the world. No one could touch her, not CP9, not any pirate group. The others monsters on the crew keeping them at bay. Whitebeard wanted to meet this Luffy. Might have even wanted to claim him as a son.

When Luffy finally arrived in the New world, things changed. He charged forward to take on another warlord, Doflamingo. From there, he pissed off Big Mom and Kaido. Taking both take on at the same time. With help from Captain Kid and Captain Law. If what the paper said was true. Then it was off to mess with the world government more. As if the world Government couldn’t hate them more.

Marco figured it was going to happen eventually. That he would set his sights on Whitebeard. Being the strongest man in the world, it only made sense. If Luffy wanted to take that title.

Ace, however, showed on deck. Watching the ship get closer, while hiding around a corner. “What are you doing?” Thatch asked, blinking.

Ace hissed at Thatch, waving his hand to get the other to go away. “SHHHHH!” Not once looking at Thatch. Marco braced himself for a fight and for helping Ace get out of trouble. It wouldn’t do to have him running in only to get killed. Based on how he was acting, that was what they were looking forward to.

“Let me goooo~” a voice whined, as they were close enough to see the people on the Thousand Sunny.

“No, we haven’t met Whitebeard. I’m not letting you get us killed!” Another voice called. When an orange-haired beauty showed up on deck. “Can we come aboard?” She asked, smiling at them.

Marco wanted to tell them to get lost. That there was no way they were getting close to Whitebeard. But it wasn’t his call. “Come on.” Pops called back. His hand resting on his weapon as the air was tense. Ready for anything that happened next?

The beauty opened her mouth when something flew past her. “LUFFY!” She yelled.

Fire lit up the deck. Luffy sliding to a stop as he turned. Ace had booked it around using the fire as a distraction. He barely managed to get to Pop’s chair when two arms wrapped around him.

“GOT YOU!” Luffy yelled. Ace was now trapped. By one of the strongest men in the world right now. No matter how close Ace was to Pops, nothing could be done.

“UGH!” Ace groaned, struggling to get free. “That’s not fair, and you know it!”

“Shshshsh!” Luffy laughed, “You’re just mad you lost first.”

The orange-haired beauty walked over to them. Smiling as she did so. “Sorry Ace. We couldn’t talk him out of it. He kept yelling about tradition.”

“It’s fine. I was planning on losing, anyway.”

“Oh?” Zoro asked, from his ship. He didn’t look intimidating, but neither did Rayleigh. “I thought the first loser had to hunt the others?”

Now the Whitebeards were not only lost but very worried. Just what was going on here. “Son?” Whitebeard asked.

Ace turned to them. “Oh, right? Luffy, Meet Whitebeard. I’ve decided to help him become the king of the pirates and not you.”

Luffy turned to look at Whitebeard. They weren’t sure why Ace was trying to start a fight like this. It wasn’t fair. Luffy looked back at Ace. “Okay, but I’m not gonna lose.” He sounded uncharacteristically stern.

Ace smiled, “That’s fine, because Pops will still beat you!” Luffy laughed.

Robin caught everyone’s attention. “Captain, shouldn’t we start the party? It’s been so long since we last saw your little brother.”

The words catching on everyone’s ear. “YOU’RE FIRE FISTS BROTHER!” The Whitebeards yelled. Not sure if they were shocked because it was Ace or if this made too much sense.

Ace and Luffy, for their part, only laughed at them. The Strawhats knowing the feeling. Having been through this several times already. “Just wait until you find out who else is in this family.” Nami said, thinking about the other top names.

Whitebeard laughed, not sure if this was the best day of his life or not. He worried, secretly, about Strawhat coming for his head. Out of all the pirates in the sea, they were most likely strong enough to kill him. Not that he minded that. Dying in battle would be a good way to go, but what of his sons then? Would they be spared afterward? Or killed. There was no telling with them. Strawhat had left many of the crews that he took down alive. But there were a few that didn’t make it.

Still, the more the merrier. “Strawhat.” He called, making the other look at him. Whitebeard and Luffy stared at each other for a minute. Taking in the other before, Whitebeard smiled. “It’s good to have another son.”

Luffy stared at him, then blinked. A smile taking over his face. “Shshshshsh!” He laughed, not telling anything about what he jsut tried to claim. After all it wasn’t Luffy’s fault that two men felt anger run down their backs. Wanting to fight something for overstepping.

“Pops- “ Ace tried to warn. But it was too late. He was swept away in the crowd. Making it hard for him to tell Pops that Luffy was already taken.

[theapangea]

Two First Dates - Part 1

Chapter Title: The Set Up

Pairing/Characters: Steve Harrington x Reader, Eddie Munson x Reader

Word Count: 2205

Summary: After hearing about your date with Eddie Munson, Steve decides to finally ask you out. 

Warning: None.

A/N: A series I wrote a while ago but finally moving it over to Tumblr! Enjoy my loves!

*Also posted on AO3: theapangea*

Part 2 | Part 3

Masterlist <3

Today was weirdly peaceful. Normally, Fridays are busy but today seemed oddly quiet. There were no last minute dads getting off of work trying to figure out which children’s movie to rent or a couple wondering what movie would be good background noise for their make out session. 

The day mostly consisted of you and Steve doing your job’s mundane duties. To be honest, it was a little tense between the two of you lately. Nothing in particular stuck out in your mind, but it seemed like Steve didn’t want to talk to you at all. You would notice that his eyes would linger just a bit too long and he would avoid any and all situations that involved talking to you. Something was bugging him and you just decided to leave it at that. 

You spent most of the day rewinding tapes, stocking, and ignoring Steve. He seems to always spend his days the same, trying to get a date. He hasn’t been all that lucky since high school and sometimes you kind of felt bad for him. He would go out with any girl who happened to say yes to his boyish charm yet come in the next day complaining about their horrible date and her horrible kissing.

You didn’t want to hear about Steve's excuse for a dating life. Not because it wasn’t funny as hell to see him struggle to keep a girlfriend, but because you were somewhat jealous of the other girls he would give his attention to. You wouldn’t dare to ever say this outloud, but Steve was definitely someone you have a major crush on. 

If you are a girl from Hawkins, you have had a crush on Steve Harrington at some point in your life. Your crush just seemed to never dissipate. 

“You’re really going on a date with Eddie Munson?” Steve basically shouted from behind the counter, pulling you from your mindless thoughts.

You look over the rack of movies in front of you, your hands automatically fixing them as you respond, “What…” you pause for a brief moment, “how did you hear about that?”

“Robin.” He chuckled. He couldn’t believe that you would go on a date with that loser willingly.

“It’s none of your business Steve.” You groan while putting another tape onto the shelf. It was true though, you were going on a date with Eddie Munson tonight but you didn’t want Steve’s opinion about the matter.

“It is when you’re going out with that freak.” He cringes at the thought of you and Eddie Munson actually going on a date. You groan in frustration at his comment. Vowing now to never listen to Steve Harrington ever again. 

You put a couple more tapes on the shelf. You could feel his presence next to you before he states, “I didn’t even think he was your type.” It was almost like he was intentionally trying to stand too close. 

“What exactly do you think my type is Steve?” You questioned. 

Steve instantly stands up a little straighter, pulling his vest down a bit. Clearly indicating that he was your type. Where would he even get that idea? You never said anything to anybody about your crush on Steve. Do you think he knows? Do you think he is playing with you to make you confess that you are in love with him?

“You wish,” you scoff at his inaudible comment and push past him. To be honest, you wished you could build up the courage to tell Steve how you really felt. This whole love-hate friendship thing that has been going on for the past couple of months has been torture. You loved the teasing and the way he would wear that cocky smile after a snarky remark made you want to kiss him even more. But you never got the feeling that he felt the same way.

“Come on, go out with me tonight.” He follows closely behind. His request sends shivers down your spine. The words you always wanted to hear were now being spoken yet at the worst possible time in your life. Fuck Steve Harrington for always having the worst timing. 

“You can’t just now ask me on a date because you know I am going out with Eddie.” You turn around to face hime, pointing out his obvious intentions. “Also, you should ask me out because you want to not because it’s to stop me from dating Eddie.” You add, your eyes meeting his and suddenly his presence feels extremely close.

You can see he was examining your face. Examining what you were actually thinking and wanting to take all of you in. You were standing so close that you could see the same razor scars that lined his chin. You could see the slight emptiness in his eyes and the pressure of growing up too fast. 

Your mind racing with all the things you wanted to say to him but never got the chance. Let’s face it, you were so small compared to what he had to offer. You turn back around before he could read too much further into the obvious expression on your face. Your safety behind the counter and computer couldn’t have come quicker. The soft clicking sound of your fingertips typing away filled the small store. 

Steve huffs, his forearms resting on top of the counter, “Y/N, I do want too. Plus you will have way more fun with me anyways.” He adds, his puppy dog eyes tearing a piece of your heart away as you try to stay mad but can’t.

You could feel yourself giggling at his remark. Damn Steve. He had this way of getting under your skin yet also being able to get himself on your good side. He could talk himself into and out of any situation, especially with you. He knew he had you wrapped around his finger, but instead of actually asking you out on a date he would do anything to stop you from going on them. 

He wasn’t as confident as he wanted the world to view him as. He was lonely and heartbroken. Never fully recovering from dating Nancy Wheeler and never fully recovered from all the rejection since. He went from King Steve of Hawkins High to some unknown dude in the video store. How pathetic, his father always told him. 

But he liked it there, he liked hanging out with Robin…and you. Even though he would never confess actually wanting to hang out with you to your face. You were the reason he wasn’t lonely during the week while Robin was at school. You were the person who laughed at his jokes even if they weren’t that funny. Steve couldn’t believe that he was finally able to ask you out, the only bad part was that you were going on a date with Eddie first. Good job, Steve.

You stop typing for a moment and meet his gaze. His mind was trying to find the right words, any words to save himself.

“Eddie and I have a lot in common, which is why I said yes. Plus he had the guts to actually ask me out.” You confess, your words stinging more than you intended. But you were right, if Steve would have actually asked you out any other time than you would be more than willing to go with him. Hell, he was the one putting you in this situation.

“Fine.” Steve groans, his forehead now resting on the counter. You finally thought that you had won, that he was finally going to leave you alone. You go back to the computer screen, inputting the number on the tape cover.

“But we are going out tomorrow.” He demands. His confidence finally finding its voice. 

You giggle again. How could he be so demanding all the time? How could he just keep asking after you basically said no? “I’m not sure if I’m free.” You pretend to think about his offer when in reality you couldn’t believe that Steve Harrington continued to keep asking you out on a date. You almost had to pinch yourself, really hoping this was not some sort of dream. 

“I know you aren’t.” He wasn’t appeased by the joke, “I am picking you up at 5 tomorrow.” 

“Isn’t that a little early for dinner?” A puzzled look landing on your face.

“5 in the morning, duh.” He clarifies. The smile that formed on his face was unlike any other. You were now this big prize that he has won and he was happy to be able to show you off. The fact that he was finally able to go on a real date with you was amazing and nerve-wrecking.

“Morning?” You repeat as he walks away without another word. Why 5 in the morning? Why in the world would Steve want to even get up that early on a Saturday? You wondered what kind of plans he could possibly have at 5 in the morning. 

It was a little awkward for the rest of your shift together. Steve seemed oddly pleased with himself after your little interaction and you seemed completely torn between these two dates. You didn’t know what to do. On one hand, you were going on a date with someone who has actually made it clear that he wanted to date you. And on the other hand, you are going to go on a date with the literal man of your dreams. 

In a way, you felt guilty. You felt guilty because it felt like you were dragging Eddie into this situation. You knew in your heart that Steve was the one, but you weren’t completely sure if Steve really felt the same way. He could just really not want you to date Eddie and would do anything to stop it. 

Eddie has been asking you out nonstop since sophomore year of high school and Steve never gave you a second look in high school. Steve was one of your best friends and Eddie was someone you lost touch with after graduation.

You couldn’t make a decision between the two of them. How could you? How could you pick between them? You never thought in your small town life that two very attractive men would try and date you around the same time. 

The neverending thoughts of the next 24 hours and your next two dates made the rest of the day go by quickly. You had barely spoken five words to Steve since he asked you out. You were speechless. Absolutely speechless. 

When the clock struck 6pm and it was finally time to go home. You couldn’t help but to try and high tail it out the door without so much as a goodbye to your coworker. Coworker, that’s all he was. He wasn’t your knight in shining armor like you wanted him to be. He was a coworker that you see often and there's nothing much to it. You tried to remind yourself but it just wasn’t working. 

“You still want a ride home?” Steve calls while locking the doors and before you are out of earshot.

You stop before your feet leave the short sidewalk. Contemplating if you still need the ride home. In reality, you do, that was the reason you asked in the first place. But after today and your mind going thousands of miles per an hour, the last place you wanted to be is stuck in a metal box with Steve.

You turn on your heels, knowing that if he drove you home it would give you more time to get ready for your date with Eddie. “Sure” You huff.

“Don’t act so sad.” He opens the car door for you. 

Most of the car ride was silent to say the least. Awkward, yes. Uncomfortable, yes. But you liked driving with Steve. He’s given you a ride home a couple of times and he’s always so talkative. But today was different, he seemed quiet and distant. The radio hummed lowly but the silence was too much to bear. 

“You can still go out tonight with me instead.” He finally breaks the tension, before putting the car in park in front of your house.

You continue to look forward. You could feel his eyes burning a whole into your head, trying to figure out what is going on in your brain. 

“Steve, drop it.” You look over at him, his sight almost taking your breath away, “Besides what if I like Eddie more and just don’t want to go on the date with you tomorrow?” You snark.

“That wouldn’t happen.” Steve rebuttals, knowing damn well that he is right. 

The breathy chuckle escapes your lips as you just cannot believe this day. It was so far away from what you expected that you almost don’t believe you are alive right now. You got out of the car not saying another word. The loud bang of the car door echoing for miles.

“Hey,” He shouts, leaning forward over the passenger seat, “I can’t wait for our date tomorrow.”

You try to conceal the smile that has formed. Damn this day, damn the date, and damn Steve Harrington.

~~

Hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think!! <3

[lexicorp]

Transformers Earthspark: Another Place, Another Prison

[Thought about tryna find another tfe screenshot but then this gif has been in my mind and its objectively more funny- clearly since the show links g1 with that history talk from Alex than this is totally canon anyway lmao]

Aww shit a full ass Megatron POV chapter in my Starscream fic? Its more likely than you think-

Megs and Star have their parallels and showing Megatrons wack ass thought processes I feel helps comprehend why they be struggling so much. So this chaps got Megs thinkin bout all the bs and talking it over a bit with Dot. Dude wants to fix shit but more in the sense he wants to just move on, and is frustrated on why tf it's being so difficult with star and navigating his feeling on their fucked up past bs.

Megs has a lot of questionable thought processes, but lawd do he be tryin.

Previous Chapter: Make or Break

First Chapter: The Need For Read

Next Chapter: Not All Scars Can Be Welded

Chapter 13: Obligation

Megatron stared down at Starscream’s unmoving frame. Halfheartedly comprehending the blistering destruction all around them. Many of the trees were either on fire, or fallen. There were scars in the Earth, paired with a crater caused by the explosion. It was a mess. But most of all, was the seeker himself. His arm had ruptured from his servo after the blast, with more of those crimson cracks spread across it. There were far too many fractures and warped plating. It was like what happened when he escaped the brig all over again. Although Megatron felt too, some sense of what the humans refer to as deja vu as he stood over Starscream. Again. Thin trails of smoke twisting into the sky.

Megatron was angry, but also confused. It was absurd that it had escalated as much as it had. Yet even as it felt typical–there were moments when it seemed as though Starscream wasn’t in control, which was certainly more abnormal. In fact, he’d started to make absolutely no sense after the explosion. Rambling about “not being thwarted again”, and how the kid’s wouldn’t be able to stop him this time. It didn’t align at all with what Starscream had been screeching about just minutes before. Was that what Dorothy had warned him about?

When he began retrieving the limp seeker from the ground, the Maltos and Bumblebee came running into the scene.

“What was with that explosion, is anyone dead–Oh my Primus what happened!??” Bumblebee exclaimed with an exaggerated gesture as a twig gave up its fight to cling to the rest of its branch in the background, and plopped weakly against the grass. 

“I’d like an explanation myself…” Dorothy began as she surveyed the carnage, while her gaze ended upon the two mechs who caused it. “I think you did need to be more careful there, Megs. This isn’t exactly what I’d call handling it. I’m gonna need to order so many trees to replant this mess…” She pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head.

Bumblebee had begun directing the kids for damage control; putting out or blocking off the fire until it died on its own. “What’d Screamer do to make this much of a mess? I thought you’d just like, give ‘im a good whack on the helm and drag him back or something, not blow up the place!”

Megatron tensed his grip around Starscream, but loosened it when he felt a dent deepen. “I apologize for…the damages. It was not my intention for it to escalate as it did.”

Twitch zipped up onto his shoulder after she finished assisting her siblings, the little bird leaning in to scrunch her tiny faceplate at the seeker. “Yeesh. Was it that weird chaos jolt junk again?”

“Yes. It was. The EMP Prowl insisted upon certainly took its time in doing its job.” He glared down at the device, “We will need to contact Wheeljack.”

Twitch fluttered into flight again to whirl around in the air in excitement, focusing on the more preferable aspect of the topic. “I’m on it! I’ve been meaning to call Dad 2 anyway–this’ll be perfect! Well–I-I mean not like–the situation of course…but y’know. It’ll still be nice to hang out, and maybe he can teach me how to fix this sorta stuff!” Megatron gave her a small nod of support, and the little bird was off again to make her call.

Dorothy knocked against his ped to obtain his fading focus. “So. What triggered it this time? I know you two have history, but we’re trying to stop these sorts of things from happening, not cause them.”

“Yes. Well. It would seem my mere presence persists on being of great offense to him. I am accustomed to our little spats and disagreements, or his general cowardice when confronted for his actions, not–!” Megatron paused for a moment as his processor attempted to filter his memory banks. “...Not this…” His former second had fought by his side for vorns, and was absurdly resilient. Starscream would often voice his complaints quite openly, but no matter how it was received, he’d swiftly move on as though it was business as usual. The mech was practically impervious to any real damage. He would always be back on his peds being a yappy little retro-rat with a snap of his servo. Had that somehow changed in their time apart? Surely not. 

“...Let's start with getting him back inside for when Wheeljack gets here, and then we can talk it over more while you help me pick up this mess. Alright?” Dorothy turned towards Bumblebee. “You and the kids can continue on with your drills, Bee. Me and Megs can handle the rest around here once I get together the materials.”

The scout then rallied the others together again, and they all made their way back to the Malto residence. They aided Megatron in finding a trail this time, so the trek was far smoother, with no further path of destruction in their wake. The children had glanced back at him occasionally, but favored talking amongst each other instead. Likely scared off by the heavy scowl that he couldn’t shake from his faceplate. In fact, the thought only made it deepen as he thought about how Starscream had reacted at the sight of him.

Far before Megatron had been forced to unload his cannon upon the seeker in retaliation, Starscream had acted as though it was already pointed at him. All he’d needed to see was Megatron even slightly move it in his direction. Sure, wariness, or fear, was understandable. Even expected. Starscream of course, was supposed to be afraid of what would befall him at Megatron’s servos in the past. It was how Megatron had kept order. A healthy dose of fear had kept his cons in line, and if they didn’t do anything to warrant it, then they had nothing to worry about. Had Starscream really thought that his silly act of galavanting into the trees would warrant such a punishment? Hardly. Which should’ve been obvious. It’d only gotten to such an extent from Starscream’s own overreaction. It would have been far easier if he’d just done the dance of shrinking away and dramatically begging for mercy, if he’d thought such a fate was to befall him. Instead, he persisted on being as unpredictable as ever.

Over these past years alongside Optimus, Megatron had learned the value of perhaps being a touch more gentle with one's subordinates. Words didn’t need to be paired with a fist to force them into the other mech’s helm. At least, they shouldn’t. They were supposed to be exchanged. He and Optimus had plenty of their own disagreements, as he and Starscream had, but they never needed to brandish their weapons. Why did it always seem so impossible to do the same with his former second?

Suddenly, he was standing in front of the barn and heard Twitch’s rotors hum, “Dang. I guess our entrance is just a bit too small…” 

Megatron stared down at the little stairway tunnel they had opened after crouching down to see it through the barn door. “Hm. It would seem so.” He might’ve been able to compact himself to some degree, but he was both too wide and too tall for it to be anything but uncomfortable while carrying his seeker as well. 

Hashtag rolled up, then retracted her wheels to stand before him. “That’s alright! He’s actually not that heavy, I can take Screamer down for ya!”

Megatron blanked a moment hesitantly. She was correct. Yet he felt a touch impressed by her boldness, much like in that moment when she’d stood between him before. Hashtag certainly was a unique kid. “Alright then.” He passed Starscream off into her hold and she tossed him over her shoulder to then swoop down the staircase with ease. 

He hovered outside and watched as the other Terrans began rearranging their obstacle course for their next race. Dot made her calls for the necessary materials before their departure as well, arranging for them to be delivered to them as to eliminate the inconvenience of flying around the city. Then, Wheeljack came barreling into the driveway with his engine revving obnoxiously before he transformed. Stomping over with a glare at the sight of Megatron loitering in his path.

“I hope you realize that I am more than your fix-it hotline Megatron!” Wheeljack noted with a screwdriver pointing up at him, while some sort of patch kit was in his other servo. “I’m an inventor and engineer. I. Ain’t. Ratchet. As much as it might surprise you–I do have projects that require my attention that I’d much rather be giving my attention than being forced to come out here everytime you wanna break that mech of yours for the 25th time!” Upon seeing Twitch come their way, he loosened and gave her a little wave before turning his back to her for a moment in order to give a final gripe about the situation at Megatron. “You’re lucky I just happen to enjoy Twitch’s company.” Then he whirled around to greet her.

“I can be the assistant right!?” Twitch asked excitedly. “You can be all like–scalpel! Or wrench, or whatever–and I can get it, and it’ll be just like in the movies, and I can learn how fix my siblings when they get hurt, and–”

“Woah now,” Wheeljack chuckled, “Slow down there little lady. We oughta save that energy for the action!”

“Right right-” Twitch nodded with her faceplate full of determination as she tried to realign herself to be even minutely professional. It was frankly quite adorable.

Megatron watched them disappear into the barn blankly. He’d faintly processed what Wheeljack had been rambling about. Surely he hadn’t been so drastically inconvenienced since he was now allowed an excuse to spend time with the little bird, instead of rusting away in his lab. That ridiculous fixation on one singular project made Megatron think of Shockwave. He had always had to refocus the scientist away from whatever questionable, or unnecessary experiment he’d gotten in his processor. Mechs like them were certainly always useful, and often brilliant, but tricky to handle with how independent they were. 

Although, he couldn’t understand what aggravated Wheeljack about standing in as a medic. Engineer, mechanic, medic. What was the difference? Shockwave never was opposed to any sort of tinkering, be it with living metal or not. Then again…perhaps it was best to not compare them after all.

Finally, Dot drove up with a trailer and a trail of delivery trucks behind her. The other humans exited their vehicles and she elicited their assistance in moving the materials before asking Megatron to transform into his alt mode. He obliged, and waited stoically for them to load the materials. All this waiting around only allowed his processor to wander in ways he’d much rather it not. He was cycling through his files on Starscream. Once again thinking of the seeker.

 He categorized memories from all points in time, with him increasingly becoming more aware just how many of them had been anything but pleasant. Then, just as he had managed to locate a clip where Starscream had been excitedly relaying a cockamamy scheme he’d concocked against the Primes at an early setting of the war–Dot knocked against the wall of his hull as a signal for him to close the hatch. Megatron lingered in the memory, and that feeling of fond amusement attached to it just a little longer, before storing it away and attempting to refocus his attention on the present. He sealed the hatch and slowly rose into the air as he became accustomed to the extra weight and was careful not to cause too much turbulence. Then began on their way toward the site in need of repair.

“Alright Megs.” Dorothy suddenly started after getting off the phone with her husband. “Are ya ready to talk about what’s really up with you and Starscream? You’ve been awfully quiet.”

Megatron hesitated another nano-klik. “I am still trying to wrap my head around it, admittedly. I always knew our eh…relationship, if that’s what it could be called, was odd to some degree. More so from many others questioning why I even kept him around, than anything else. But I am now starting to question our partnership in other ways.” After hovering a moment, he landed in their ill-created clearing. “As well as my leadership style in the past.”

“That so?” Dot prompted him to continue as she began transporting the saplings out of the way to allow Megatron to dump out the remaining dirt and seeds. 

“Yes,” He affirmed verbally without yet the capability to nod, “When I lead the Decepticons, it was quite common for me to keep them in line with a show of weaponry here and there. In those days, looking back, I also tended to…unleash my frustrations on those around me.”

“Heh, yeah, the military certainly can bring that out in people. I knew this other commander who would constantly yell, or throw the nearest object anytime someone messed up. He never intended to hit any of us, just wanted to scare the newbies a bit y’know–but he did hit this guy Craig straight in the face once. He had to go to the hospital. That was quite the day.” Dot grabbed the last tiny tree and gave a little tap as a signal before Megatron transformed as she stepped out. All the little sacks of soil plopping to the ground beside him.

Megatron’s optical lids lowered as his gaze lingered towards the crater, then he chuckled with a more lighthearted air as he tore open those bags to begin filling it into obscurity. “I once tossed an Energon cube at Starscream’s helm, and it didn’t even phase him! The pouty seeker only looked a touch offended…” His vocalizer trailed out as a clip from a file he’d forgotten to square away from before came to the forefront of his processor. One where he’d catapulted said seeker across their war room with such force that the wall had cracked and crumpled behind him. Starscream had still managed to lift a digit to affirm that Megatron had a good point as a response. Megatron had only found it funny, if a bit impressive, after his initial annoyance at the insubordination. “Although he did frequent the medbay, he more often just dealt with it on his own, as many of us did.”

“You should never leave injuries unchecked Megs.” Dot scolded casually as if he were one of her children. “But I do assume, in correlation to what happened today, you two had moments where it escalated further than just yelling or tossing a cube in the past as well?”

Megatron nodded as he kept himself tethered to this moment by meticulously smoothing out the earth beneath his servo. “We exchanged blows with each other quite regularly, actually. It was…well, I suppose it wasn’t normal, as I never witnessed you or the Autobots behave as we did. I hadn’t given it much thought until this past year, or however long it’s been. Yet now, I can’t even approach him in any manner without him assuming I am immediately intending on attacking him! He doesn’t…he doesn’t feel safe around me. I realize our history has not been the most flowery thing in the worlds, but then why had HE–Ugh….” Megatron growled and rubbed his optics as if the sensation would fix his emotions, but then he only got dirt in them. “AUGH–Scrap!” 

Starscream had attempted to usurp him, or leave him to be offlined, on so many occasions. Was THAT his fragged up way of expressing his thoughts on the matter in the past? Megatron had only seen it as the seeker being a weasley creature that craved any bout of power or superiority. Could it really have been something more than that?

“You alright?” Dot asked with a note of concern as she carefully slid a sapling into a hole she dug.

Megatron shuttered his optics rapidly in an effort to finally rid them of those blasted organic particles. Then he ex-vented as he ran his servo down his faceplate. “Yes, yes. I’m fine. Only this ridiculous material invading my optics, is all. I’m just…frustrated. I have worked for so long to gain what trust I have from Optimus and the Autobots, alongside being forced to stand against my fellow Decepticons, and enduring their anger towards my actions. As they have a right to. Yet, somehow, Starscream seems…different. I just can’t figure out why.”

“It sounds like you two had things a lot more complicated than I thought.” Dot dusted her servos before moving on to the next little tree to plant. “I’d like to say that maybe it has something to do with his issue being more personal than the other cons, but I also know about you and Soundwave, so I’m not sure. But I guess Soundwave didn’t fight with you like that before you joined us though, huh?”

“Hm…No. Soundwave was far more agreeable.” Megatron knelt near her to assist in making an imprint in the earth for the next sapling to be placed inside. “Starscream seemed to always believe he had something to prove, and in our altercation today, he asked me what I wanted from him. He always seemed far more self assured, much like Shockwave, but to a far more problematic extent. I never thought he cared what I wanted him to do. Always going against my orders, or coming up with his own little schemes…”

Dot laughed, “That kinda sounds like a teenager. Breaking the rules to try and prove that they know better than their parents. They wanna act all independent, and will fight you over every little thing. Sometimes, it’s them acting out in a misguided effort to make you proud. Sometimes, it’s them being angry about something, and they don’t know how to handle it. Or, they got something in their head from the internet that makes them think that sleep is a conspiracy somehow, and stay up all night playing a video game–but, I’m getting off topic.”

“Starscream is no human teenager.” Megatron stated flatly, failing to see the comparison relevant. 

Dot sighed, “Of course not. But that never stopped plenty of other adults from acting like kids. Some people get locked in that mindset, and you bots do tend to be forced to grow up pretty quickly. My poor Terran babies are only like, almost 3 years old! I still can’t get over how absurd that is with all we’ve been through…I’m not saying it's the same thing. FAR, far from it. You all have millions or some such crazy amount of years under your belts. Regardless of the numbers, I still think I might get it, at least even just a little. But if you and Starscream also apparently beat each other up like this a lot, then no wonder things are weird with you two.” She patted the dirt around the plant and stood again. “We really need to find a good time for you to actually be able to talk it out with him. It’s not like I can speak for whatever issues that lunatic really has goin’ on.”

“I know that.” Megatron let his ped compact the dirt beneath it with more force than intended. He didn’t want to snap at her. But if he didn’t control himself from taking it out on the ground instead, he’d only ruin their work. “It is not as if I haven’t tried to talk to him.” He grumbled as he carefully retrieved a pack of seeds and snapped it open to allow them to scatter to the wind on their own. “He’s just incapable of giving me a straight answer! All I get are snide remarks, or him starting a fight. Even when he was locked up he found some way to twist the conversation in these odd directions with explanations that didn't match up in any sensible way! I KNOW we need to talk. All i’ve wanted to do since we retrieved him from the Titan, was talk to him. Perhaps more so in the hopes for closure with at least one of my closest Decepticons from the war. But we…have never been the best with that spark-to-spark nonsense.”

“We haven’t exactly been allowed the time to truly process it all with these–constant crises, even after we were supposed to be done with it. I know I still have plenty to talk about with my therapist, with each week's new bout of insanity.”

Megatron’s optical ridges furrowed at the title, “Therapist?”

“Yeah,” Dot shrugged, “I talk to her about things that’ve happened, or what I’m worried about, and she helps talk me through it. Or sometimes gives me homework, which the kids always complain about when they get out of their sessions.” She chuckled fondly at the thought. “My point is, Megs, is that maybe we can help you through it. Instead of leaving you two alone, you could pick someone to mediate. Like me, or Bee, or Optimus.”

“Hm…That might work. Optimus would be the best candidate, but the mech is always far too occupied with other matters. Bumblebee…no. Arcee would only make things more confusing, and Elita is not exactly the master of de-escalation.” He glanced back at her, “So, if you are truly willing to volunteer for such a thing, I would appreciate it. Now it would only be a matter of when. You will let me know when he is functioning again?”

Dot hovered her gloved servo in front of her jaw in thought. “Of course, but for this to work, Starscream will have to agree to it.”

“Uuuugh…”

“Pff,” She smirked at him, “You can’t make him talk to you, or you’ll just run into the same problem again ya big baby. I’ll letcha know how it goes.”

Megatron scoffed, “He’d better not come up with excuses to avoid me like the coward he is for months on end.”

“Oh I’ll keep on ‘im about it, don’t you worry. But these things can take time. We have to be patient. He won’t change in a week.”

“Right…”

They finished up the repairs, collected the waste, and by the time he was leaving her residence again the Earth’s sun was setting over the horizon. 

Whatever was going on with Starscream, Megatron could not let things continue to be left unresolved between them. They were going to have a legitimate conversation. They were going to make real progress, and be able to move on from it all. He was tired of his past coming back to slag him in the faceplate, time and time again. 

He was going to make it right somehow. Even if he had to drag that stubborn fragging seeker kicking and screaming to this “Therapy”, he was going to figure this damn thing out. 

Ah but perhaps…that thought was just the harsh process that got him into this mess in the first place.

[mischiefmaker615]

To Better Use

Rating: R

Summary: Captured, you now find yourself doing anything to protect your comrades. 

You claw at Baron’s wrist as he keeps a firm hand over your mouth while his other holds tight to your wrist pinned behind your back. Your struggling lessened the more you were sure he would break your arm whenever he yanked upon feeling you jerk. Of course you made yourself feel better by telling yourself you merely held back during your capture, he was your friend after all.. was. ‘’she managed to find our location sir, but we’re sure her capture took place before she had the chance to send out a signal.’’ Clint reported as your eyes lift up and widen to find Loki turning towards the both of you with an unreadable look on his face. Or at least, for a moment before what you could read was triumph and hunger as his eyes scanned over your body. Your SHIELD uniform did a good job hugging your figure, something you wished wasn’t existent right now as your struggles began again when he stalked towards you. You had indeed kept the chase up on your own after headquarters sunk into the ground when Loki escaped, and without working equipment, couldn’t risk staying behind with the rest and lose sight of them. Of course, a million of different results popped up in your head on how you could have gone about this differently so you didn’t find yourself before Loki now being held tightly by the friend you used to know and work with. ‘’using your natural blue orbs to blend in with the rest was indeed intelligent on your part, but coming alone was the most foolish thing you could have done.’’ Loki chuckled and flashed his eyes at Barton who understood and uncovered your mouth by relocating his arm across your throat in a hold but didn’t choke you. Taking a deep breath once your airway worked properly again, you dug your nails into Clint’s arm while your eyes glared back at Loki. ‘’you didn’t look much like a threat so I decided to take my chances.’’ You replied with sarcasm dripping in your voice as he merely smirked and placed a finger under your chin, his thumb stroking your skin as he admired your eyes. ‘’Don’t test me Y/N, I can make your life a living hell if I want to.’’ Loki replied, his voice rather calm as his eyes scanned you once more as he seemed to be thinking before his eyes switched to Clint. ‘’take her to the chamber, I shall deal with her myself.’’ Your body tensed at his words but kept your expression almost unreadable as Loki gave you one last smirk before he moved past you to the other fellow agents following under his orders. Before you could question anything, Clint moved forward, pushing his legs and chest against you so it moved you forward with his grip never faltering under your harsh nails you were sure was making him bleed. Dragging you down a few halls and around a handful of corners, he finally released you after shoving you into an extremely small and dimly lit room; with the only thing accompanying the lamp, was a bed. Spinning on your heel to face him, Clint slammed the door shut behind him before you could even try to talk him out of.. whatever spell Loki had him under. This was bad, very bad.. Your eyes scanned for a door other than the one you just came from- a window, a vent perhaps? Nothing.. the only thing you did have currently was the fight to survive and a million things going through your head; first one being, why were you still alive or mind controlled.. Your thoughts didn’t have much time for answers before the door was opened to reveal Loki who wasted no time shutting it behind him and his body noticeably relaxed itself. Trying to take over the world had its stressful moments probably.. “I’m surprised you didn’t try the door darling.’’ Loki smirked as he opened his eyes and turned to face you with a hand going directly to lock the door behind him. ‘’..it was unlocked?’’ you asked, a little surprised honestly as he smirked and took a step towards you in which you offered a step back. ‘’as soon as he left, unless you thought trying the door would be to obvious?’’ he smirked, his hands placed behind his back as if he were observing an unearthly creature. Your eyes flashed him a glare and your posture offered a position where you would try to defend yourself if he tried anything. ‘’did you just come here to make me feel stupid or are you just going to kill me now?’’ you snapped. Loki’s expression softened as he cocked his head to the side in curiosity ‘’kill a fine creature like you? Now wouldn’t that be a great waste of flesh.’’ He chuckled and proceeded to move forward. Your eyes side eyed him as you backed away, your body somehow forgetting your combat skills as you pressed yourself up against the wall before he found himself standing before you. You flinched when he raised his hands but he didn’t hit you, but merely rested his hands against the wall on either side of you, making your blue orbs move to his own questionably. ‘’Afraid I will try to pull something... ungentlemanly? Scandalous perhaps?" he seemed to mock and you gave a slight glare. ‘’why else would you be in my personal space..’’ ‘’you’ve come onto my hideaway, this is all my personal space darling.’’ He smirked and used a finger under your chin to keep you looking at him when you began to look away. Somehow, his gaze seemed to almost make you weak in the knees but.. he didn’t need to know that. ‘’this is not your planet.’’ ‘’ah, so an ambassador i have here’’ he chuckled. ‘’what do you want?’’ you demanded. ‘’oh darling, you know what I want.’’ He smirked. ‘’don’t think I didn’t notice you hiding upon my first arrival to earth. What amazes me the most is how you apparently survived my mild purge. I take it you are grateful he managed to survive.’’ The last part was laced with annoyance in his voice but your look of surprise changed his features. ‘’oh, didn’t stick around long enough to find out? So eager to keep up with me?’’ he smirked and your eyes widened in denial and confusion with your body suddenly feeling small before him. ‘’you.. you knew I was following you?’’ ‘’for quite some time darling, I just thought you’d arrive aster than you had, but I suppose your attempts to blend in took some time before my men finally picked you out.’’ He chuckled. ‘’w-why did you let me follow you?..’’ His chin tilted up slightly with his eyes glued to yours, the silence getting thick as he contemplated a moment before he simply grinned. ‘’It gets awfully lonely in almost an eternity of seclusion.. and a ravishing creature such as yourself needs to be shown the correct way of how to serve and not for these weak mortals..’’ Your back couldn’t have sunk farther into the wall by his words, nor could your eyes have gotten any wider as you came to the realization of what he meant. ‘’..don’t think for one second that I’d ever-‘’ Your words turned into a yelp when he snatched your jaw in his hand and tilted your head up, looking over your face with a mild-serious expression as if inspecting something. Your hands gripped his wrist, a move foolish on your part where he then noticed your trembling and he merely chuckled, eyes softened. ‘’you are shaking way to early darling, but do not fear. Behave and I shall be gentle with you.’’ He said softly and his hand switched to your hair, making you wince and your hands moved to his wrist once more. Once the thought of kicking him struck your mind, he had already shoved you down onto your knees before him, causing you to yelp. ‘’ah ah ah darling, I wouldn’t dare if I were you or I’ll go back on my promise n being gentle. You wouldn’t want your precious comrades getting hurt either would you?’’ he smirked and you glared up at him when he released your hair. ‘’now darling, I will give you a choice. You do it or I will.’’ The last part was a warning tone, somehow making a threat sounding sexy as you glanced in front of you with something catching your eye. His growing erection. Your eyes flashed up at him as he took a seat behind him on the bed, manspreading as you began feeling your limbs ach and shake. Why the hell did you come here alone.. why the hell in another life perhaps you could see yourself wanting this.. why the hell.. ‘’.. I’d rather be mind controlled then do it willingly.’’ You snapped and he merely chuckled as if you told a joke. ‘’you clearly don’t care about the well being of your fellow comrades do you? You saw- what? Dozens out there all under my control and you are telling me you’d carelessly sacrifice all of them all because you don’t wish to take it upon yourself to pleasure your king?’’ ‘’your no kin-‘’ ‘’ill start with Baron first. And I’ll be sure you watch. Every single drop of blood fall as a make his suffering last.’’ Loki said casually, his voice a sigh as if he had no choice but to do the simple chore and that’s what made you stop him. Clearly he showed no emotion or care in killing others, even when he first arrived he didn’t even hesitate.. there was no bluff. He would do it. ignoring the sick feeling in your stomach, you avoided his gaze and eyed his groin, crawling over to him in which you saw his erection twitch by the mere act in doing so. Sitting on the back of your heels, you raised your shaky hands and moved them over his lap to try to find an opening, a zipper, something. You could practically feel him smirk as he made you feel like a fool and in one simple motion, he pulled himself out of his complicated Asgardian attire. By the gods it was huge.. you’ve seen many men before in your lifetime but him.. you truly knew now the difference between a man and a god. Giving a quick glance up at his eyes was a mistake as he gave you a smug and knowing look. Ignoring his cockiness, your eyes moved back to his.. well, more than ready cock as it glistened with slight precum. There was no way you thought you could take it all the way in your mouth but you’d worry about it later as you just told yourself it was all to protect your team. You had to practically use both our hands as you gripped him, feeling his body almost flinch as he sucked in a breath by your touch and you almost seemed to be filled with a sense of power. Despite your situation here, the fact that he was hard because of you, the fact that his breathing and body reacted because of you, it almost made you want to return the smugness back at him. With a good grip on him, you used your hands to stroke him up and down while you leaned more forward to his tip. Taking one last breath, you ran your tongue across the tip and felt him shudder. Keeping your eyes glued to what you were doing, you bent and ran your tongue up his shaft before taking him into your mouth. You took as much as you knew you could handle and your hands cared for the rest and by how much that was, your mouth couldn’t even take half of him. That thought didn’t seem to bother you as it didn’t bother him as you took a quick peak and he was taking deep breaths, his head tilted back with his eyes closed. In that moment, he was the most beautiful being you had even seen.. it almost gave you the main motivation to get you to keep going as you began using your hands to stroke him while your head began to slowly bob up and down. It was hard to concentrate on the positives of why you were doing this in the first place when, to your demies, felt a pool formulate between your legs that almost made you pause. Were.. were you wet? ‘’this is obviously not your first time darling..’’ Loki breathed as he stroked your hair and you almost wanted to hate him. why couldn’t you? You used your tongue to run against him and your throat on the other side of his cock to be what gripped him. most girls you figured spent most of their time trying to be impressive by taking it all in rather than focus on the mere focus of making it feel good. Your knowledge seemed to work on Loki at least as you could hear him let out a breathy moan. Beginning to pick up the pace, you bobbed your head a bit faster while also doing your best to suck on him more. You could feel his leg muscles tighten and you figured he was doing his best not to buck. Hoping what you were doing was just enough, you kept at it before you jumped at the feeling of his fingers in our hair. Starting to pull back a little, his fingers tightened to stop you and took the initiative by pushing your head down more before pulling it back up repeatedly. Trying not to resist so he could understand he didn’t need to force you, it didn’t seem to come across him. hat, or he didn’t care anymore as he began bucking his hips up now to match your throat. With him guiding your head with his fingers in your hair and his hips snapping up, the face now began making your eyes water and your gag reflex to begin to trigger. You remembered a small trick to prevent your gag reflex which was to squeeze your thumb down but his harsh movement canceled that trick out. Panic began filling your chest as you tapped and pushed against his thighs to try to free himself but that just seemed to make him down faster as his heavy breathing and moans filled your ears. The thought of choking to breath flashed in your mind and before you could feel like you’d die if he kept going longer, you felt his cock twitch in your throat and his thrusts slowed. Your eyes widened as your body tensed, feeling hot liquid shooting and running down your throat. Releasing a small whimper, Loki kept your head down and stilled his movement. ‘’you will take all of me little one’’ he growled and didn’t release you until you swallowed every drop. Once you had, he finally released your hair and you fell back onto your rump, taking in generous amounts of air as your hand held your sore throat. ‘’f-fuck you..’’ you croaked, rubbing your neck as your eyes timidly glanced at him and he chuckled, standing up where his hands moved to properly undo his pants. ‘’well what did you think was going to happen next..’’

[oopsiedaisiesbaby]

how are the KMITD boys spending christmas? both in the future as a family and during their first years together🥹

Oooh I haven’t thought about this too much past the one little mention in Ours a Love I Held Tightly, this is fun 😍 I somehow took this too far and not far enough lol

Their first Christmas together, John’s still in HS so they have to spend it apart, Gale and Marge are still keeping up appearances with her family so they have to show face there. Before Christmas they go to a walk through light show in the city together on a date night and accidentally start a tradition of competing to see who can find the most out of pocket light display that they keep up every year after (like someone keeping up Halloween decor but adding Christmas elements). They do sneak away together a couple of days after for Gale’s birthday to stay in a hotel in the city and exchange gifts. John is adamant that he’ll always keep Gale’s birthday and Christmas entirely separate moving forward though (spoiler alert, he succeeds).

When they move away together and it’s John’s first year of college, they haven’t hit their big fight just yet, but things are a little tense by Christmas. John’s still in contact with his family because the money they send him when he asks for it is kind of keeping them afloat and Gale’s dad finds him and starts contacting him again by that point too. There’s tension because John’s family wants him to come home and Gale’s dad is trying to weasel in and Gale’s never spent a Christmas without Marge since he was 16 and they’re still not talking… they finally end up just doing the two of them, no decorations, and nothing Christmasy except that they walk around and look at Christmas lights together with some hot chocolate and things feel okay for the first time in weeks, they see a reindeer with a bikini on it at a frat house that wins the light award that year.

By the next year, Gale has cut off his dad entirely again, John’s gone mostly no contact with his family, and John is determined to make Christmas an experience. It was always so formal and boring with his family. They’re not struggling too bad despite not being supplemented by John’s parents because Curt has moved in and is helping with bills. So, John goes to thrift stores and gets an obscene amount of Christmas decor and decorates the day they get back from Thanksgiving break at the Biddick’s back in Wisconsin. He even gets a fugly little tree and Gale’s never gotten into Christmas because he didn’t celebrate from ages 9-16 and after that it was Marge’s family traditions he had no connection to, but he gets INTENSE about the tree. Curt and John are not allowed to help because they “have no taste.” They walk around and look at Christmas lights together and it’s a tough call on whether their shitty ass lights are the worst or the neighbor with the sexy Santa blow up, sexy Santa wins because Gale doesn’t want to hurt John’s feelings lol

This is the year Gale gets stupidly into baking because he’s started volunteering at an old folks home and his favorite senior mentioned how much she misses decorating sugar cookies. So he perfects his recipe just for her and Curt and John aren’t complaining but the team dietician is. Curt and John start trying to perfect their boozy hot chocolate recipes and they get Gale drunk for the first time because he’s the only one willing to taste their concoctions. They visit the Biddicks for family Christmas with Curt a week before actual Christmas which starts a yearly tradition of that. They get another terrible Charlie Brown Christmas tree, Gale is still stupidly into decorating it and making it perfect. Someone tried to make shrek out of lights and that wins that year.

Things are a bit wild this year because it’s John and Curt’s senior year and they’re both preparing to graduate and get drafted. John proposed that summer, so they’re planning a wedding. John has convinced Gale to start the surrogacy process because “it’ll take forever Gale, we’ll pay off the credit cards when I get drafted” except it goes much quicker than they were expecting and their surrogate is already 2 months pregnant by Christmas. John brings them both back down to earth when Gale gets in a tizzy about perfecting his gingerbread recipe that year for the senior facility to make gingerbread houses and they go look at lights and talk about the traditions they want to start for their kids. There is a twerking snoopy lawn display that wins that year. Curt contemplates his life choices when John drunkenly announces that Gale can’t drink the boozy hot chocolate that year because he’s pregnant and rather than fight it Gale just shrugs.

They’re in NY by this point and it’s stressful. John is drafted to his dream team the Yankees (Curt was drafted elsewhere and they’re devastated) and they’ve got a 3 month old (Maverick), they’re newly married, and Gale is doing his stay at home mom thing and is absolutely thriving by that point while John is kind of struggling because he’s not the best on the team anymore. They still use their shitty thrift store decor but they get a nice tree from a tree farm and Gale insists on being the one to decorate the tree still but he lets John put the star on top this time. Gale has found a children’s home and a senior living facility to volunteer at and creates a red velvet cookie recipe. They walk around with baby Mav to look at lights and John is a little morose but perks up considerably when Gale hands him a thermos of hot chocolate and it is a perfect peppermint mocha boozy hot coco. They’re in the city so the light displays aren’t so elaborate but they do find a Santa riding a dinosaur that begrudgingly gets a win even though it’s not that bad.

John has become fast friends with another player, Brady, and Gale has become besties with his husband Benny, so they were already doing better mentally despite the continued stress. The cherry on the Sunday is that Curt has been drafted to the Yankees so John is reunited with his best friend. Gale has really hit his stride now and is in all kinds of things with baby Mav along for the ride. They start a tradition of buying an ornament for him as a Christmas Eve gift and plan to continue it for all of their future kids. They also decide to try for another baby that Christmas because John is getting more playing time which means more money. Gale makes a pink velvet cookie recipe to take to the children’s home, senior living facility, and library because John wants a girl and he’s being indulgent. They bring Curt, Benny, and Brady along to look at Christmas lights and decide to drive out to the suburbs this time. They all unanimously agree that the Rudolph with the shot gun wins because why does that even exist?

The twins, Bennet and Knightly are a couple of months old, so it’s a bit hectic but at 2, Maverick understands a lot more so John makes a whole production about Santa that year even though Mav doesn’t fully understand (taking bites out of the cookies, leaving a foot print by their fake fireplace… etc). Gale is pressed about it, but he lets Mav decorate the bottom of the tree and just redoes it when he’s down for a nap. They continue the ornament tradition. Curt has started an elicit affair with the team’s head athletic trainer, Ken, and they invite him along to look at lights with them and he and Gale get along like a house fire because he likes to tease John and Curt just as much as Gale does. Also, Gale loves how good he is with the kids. He loves Brady but he acts allergic to them and Benny is just clueless. The display that wins that year is a blinking light show with words, expect the people messed up and it’s all gibberish. Curt and John make everyone (except Gale) ill with their latest boozy hot coco concoction.

John’s really hitting his stride this year so they’re a lot more financially comfortable and contemplate taking a trip but when Gale points out they wouldn’t be able to pull of the Santa stuff, John vetoes it. Gale makes lemon blueberry cookies (on top of all of his other now famous recipes) because someone in his and Marge’s (she moved to NY after her and Lil split) book club said he couldn’t beat hers. Gale once again redecorates after Mav and the one year old twins ‘help’ decorate the tree because he can’t have his tree looking like shit. One of John’s presents to Gale that year is a key to a house (fake one, he’s not buying a house without Gale’s input) and one of Gale’s is a onesie for a little girl because he knows how much John still wants a girl, so they agree to try for another. Ornaments are still a thing for the kids. They look at lights just them that year because Curt and Ken have adopted Olivia and are adjusting to being parents and Brady and Benny dipped to go somewhere tropical with their families. There is a whole beach scene with Santa and Mrs Claus that wins that year and John made a horribly disgusting hot butter rum hot coco that Gale dumps out immediately to John’s chagrin.

They now have 4 kids, 4 and under because Charlie (“Goose”) was born around Thanksgiving. Things are chaotic because they also just moved into their new house. They are thriving in the chaos though. John has to hire someone to help him decorate because it’s their first year with extra extra money in a house they can decorate the outside of since they moved to New York. Gale has started a bake sale/drive thing that the team has to work and donate the money to a charity and Gale perfects his cowboy cookie recipe that year much to the team’s delight. John is ‘yes and’ing’ himself with the Santa bit much to the kids’ delight. Someone has an anti Yankees light display that makes John and by proxy, Maverick, so upset that it wins by default. Gale and Ken do not let anyone try John and Curt’s coco recipe that year because they saw what they put in it and “no jungle juice hot coco is not a funny idea.”

John is a star player by this point, they’re already trying for baby #5, and Christmas is somehow simultaneously a production but not a source of stress in the Egan household. Christmas Eve ornaments are very much still a thing, everyone gets to decorate the tree, but now Gale gets to put the star on top since he doesn’t get to make the tree perfect anymore. The Biddick’s actually come to NY that year and they have family Christmas all together at the Egan house and it becomes a permanent tradition after that rather than everyone packing up to go back to Wisconsin. Gale thinks John has lost his mind with the Santa stuff but the kids love it so he lets it slide. The Yankees cookie drive is a staple of the community despite it only being year 2 and Gale has to have help baking his established recipes if he wants to perfect his chocolate peppermint cookies… he’s a little miffed about having to let other people cook his famous recipes because he knows they won’t be as good but he’s got 4 kids 5 and under, PTA shit, various sports and activities for the kids to worry about, his book club, his volunteer stuff at the library, children’s home, and senior facility, his personal yoga class… etc. and John gently bullies him into slowly giving up some control on running some of it. The winning Christmas light display that year is someone who made it look like the reindeers were having an orgy and everyone’s wondering if they need to cover the kid’s eyes but they’re all just kind of in shock. Gale lets himself get tipsy on John and Curt’s boozy orange hot coco that’s actually pretty good.

They’ve now have 5 kids with Cassiopeia in the mix and this is the year they have the bright idea to surprise their kids with a dog (enter: Waffles the Golden Retriever). Gale finally doesn’t feel pressed anymore about not having the perfect tree because it brings the kids so much joy to decorate it with their shit and special ornaments plus he still gets to do the star. John has gotten insane about the Santa stuff. Footprints by the fireplace, having the kids spread ‘reindeer food’ in the yard, eating the cookies, stomping on the roof in the middle of the night (Gale has to convince Bennet and Knightly to not investigate or they’ll end up with coal lol)… it’s beyond extra but they love seeing how excited the kids are about all of it. Ornaments for Christmas Eve are still in full swing, the Biddick’s still come for family Christmas the week before, Gale still runs the cookie drive and he destroys everyone (it’s not actually a competition but it is in Gale’s mind, he wants to be the #1 WAG) with a pecan cookie recipe he invented. They have to throw away the pot that John and Curt tried to make their boozy hot chocolate in that year because they catch it on fire. The winning light display that year is a house that spelled out “send nudes” in lights, not because it’s more absurd than previous ones but because of the lack of pizazz put into it that could’ve made it truly funny.

I’m gonna stop here but they def keep their traditions going, even when they have another big fight and when things start shifting around as they grow and adapt as a family 🥰

[randomnonsensedragonage]

Chevalier No More

Avenie Caron & Jean-Marc Stroud - 1464 words

CW: Canon-typical violence

Summary: Avenie, a trainee at the Academie des Chevaliers, discovers the dark side of the path she's chosen. Then a mysterious Grey Warden offers her a new way forward.

A/N: Slowly working on uploading some of my Ao3 only fics to Tumblr as well. This one was originally published in 2019.

Read on Ao3

“No,” Avenie said. “I won’t allow this.”

Her hand rested on the hilt of her blade. Behind her lay the gates of Val Royeux’s Alienage, and ranged in front of her were several of her fellow trainees at the Academie. Her friends. Or so she’d thought.

“Come off it, Avenie.”

“Allow this? Is she serious?”

“It’s just a bit of fun.”

Avenie gritted her teeth. Chevalier training may have been a lie, but it hadn’t been useless. She was surveying the situation as she’d been taught, looking out for ways to defend herself and get the upper hand if they decided to fight their way past her. The street they were on was open, big enough for fighting, and though many of them were tense as though ready for battle, they seemed caught off guard, not as ready to attack as she was. But the fact remained that it was six against one, and most of them had had more training than her. She might be able to stop one or two of them, but the rest would either overpower her, or simply leave her to fight while they ran to the Alienage. She would have to talk them out of it.

“Attacking elves is not the purpose of our training,” she said, heart racing. “We-we must protect the weak, not prey on them.”

A few of her companions exchanged looks. There were titters. Eyes were rolled. Ariel, the tallest and most charismatic of the group, spoke.

“Avenie, it’s tradition,” he said, voice reasonable. “Practice. Elves today, Orlais’ foes tomorrow. Generations of Chevaliers have done the same.”

“The tradition is wrong,” she said. How could she make them see? She was a fighter, not a diplomat, and her voice shook even if her hands didn’t. She could only think of one more tactic.

“Julien, please.”

He was at the back, almost hidden in the shadows and head hung, but he looked up when she spoke. His black curls framing his face, eyes that same blue that always made her heart pound.

“You cannot agree with this. Please, make them see reason!”

He looked at her, blinked. Then, he looked at the ground. Her heart felt like it would tear into pieces.

Ariel drew his sword, the ring of steel echoing on the quiet street.

“This grows tiresome. Chevaliers, with me!”

Avenie drew her own blade, a noise echoed by the drawing of five others. They ran at her.

Avenie ducked, dodging out of the path of the sword that had been aimed at her chest. She came up and rammed into the nearest attacker’s chest, knocking him back. Someone tried to grab her from behind, and she spun, catching them in the chest with the flat of her sword, then lashing out at fighters to her right, to her left. She spotted Karine, one of the only other women in the group, attempting to get past her, but she leapt to the side and blocked her, at the same time kicking the man who tried to stab her in the side.

Bad idea. He grabbed her leg, pulling her to the ground. Her face hit the dirt, and she struggled to free herself as he dragged her across the dust. With a roar, she twisted, turning herself on to her back and jumping to her feet, knocking Ariel back at the same time. Righting herself, she wiped the blood from her nose, spat out the dirt, and held out her sword. But they were surrounding her, coming from all sides. Ariel’s grin was wolflike, and even Julien’s gaze was intense and cold. She stepped back. She would keep fighting them as long as she could. Even if they killed her, at least she would die defending others.

Then Karine cried out, doubling over in pain. Someone had slashed her in the back, and used the opening to break through the circle surrounding Avenie. A man ran to her side. All she could tell about him in the dark was that he was tall and solidly built, and he had a sword.

“With me,” he said. “We can take them together.”

Avenie nodded, not really having any other choice. He moved so he was at her back, facing those who were behind her. They separated.

Swords clashed in the night. Avenie was taking on Ariel and Julien, the strange man the three others. Karine was nowhere to be seen, must have stumbled off back to the Academie. Avenie hoped this meant she’d learned something.

As she knocked Julien’s blade aside, she glanced over her shoulder at the battle behind her. Though he was outnumbered, the strange man was fighting well, expertly dodging the three trainees’ thrusts and slashes. She saw him knock big Octave aside, slash a wound down his breastplate. The man stumbled and fell.

Before long, the battle was over. Several of her former friends lay on the ground, and the others had run back to the Academie. Avenie wiped her sword and re-sheathed it, noticing that Julien was not among the dead. She felt numb.

“Come on.” The man’s voice. He reached for her wrist, holding her steady. “We ought not to linger here.”

Too exhausted to do anything else, Avenie went with him.

The man’s name was Stroud. He was a serious looking fellow with dark hair and a handlebar mustache. Not the type you’d forget, but Avenie didn’t realize who he was until they were already speaking over drinks at the tavern.

“Jean-Marc Stroud?” she said. “The former Chevalier?” No wonder he had fought so well. “I thought you were exiled from the empire.”

Stroud took a sip of his drink, then shook his head.

“No, not exiled. I left by choice. But I do return from time to time.” His eyes twinkled. “You likely don’t remember, but I was among the Grey Wardens who visited your class at the Academie.”

Avenie did remember. Several weeks back, when they’d been learning how to fight Darkspawn, the Warden Commander had visited along with several others, who’d remained at the back of the hall. Stroud must have been among them.

Stroud set his stein down and wiped foam from his mustache. He was looking at her seriously.

“What are you going to do now?” he said. “You fought with your fellow trainees, and not, from the Academie’s point of view, over a point of honor. Things will be difficult for you after this.”

Avenie nodded. She ran a finger along the rim of her wine glass, but didn't lift it. Her stomach still felt too hollow for drink.

"Do you regret it?” Stroud said.

“No,” Avenie said immediately. “What they were trying to do was wrong. I’m just… disappointed.”

“Disappointed?”

“In the Chevaliers,” she said. She reached for her glass. Perhaps she needed the alcohol after all. “I thought… I thought Chevaliers fought for others, not just themselves. I thought they protected people.”

“Some do,” Stroud said. “Not all participate in the so-called tradition your friends were emulating. But protection is not a priority of the order.”

Avenie blinked away the blurriness that was starting to obscure her vision. “I… I don’t know what I’m going to do now. But I will not go back. I will not serve an order that places honor so highly above anything else.”

“So, you became a chevalier because you wanted to protect people?”

Avenie nodded.

“And because of that you stood up to your comrades in arms, your friends, even though you knew they might kill you?”

She nodded again.

“May I make a suggestion?” he said. “The Grey Wardens would welcome you as a recruit. Bravery and tenacity are things we admire. Not to mention the desire to protect. And we could use someone with your combat skills.”

Avenie took another sip of her drink, thinking.

“Is the training difficult?”

“Not nearly as difficult as training at the Academie. But it does require sacrifices. Your life won’t be the same after you join.”

“But I could do good.”

“Our purpose is to fight Darkspawn and stop Blights. So, yes, you would be doing good. You would also be able to move much more freely and widely.”

Avenie didn’t answer, so Stroud cleared his throat. “Well, perhaps you should take time to think about it. I’ll be—”

“I’ll do it,” Avenie said.

Stroud blinked. “Really? You’re sure?”

“Yes. I can’t be a chevalier anymore… but as a Grey Warden my skills wouldn’t go to waste. I’ll do it.”

Stroud smiled. He reached out and shook her hand. “Welcome, Avenie Caron,” he said. “The Wardens will be glad to have you. I’ll speak to the training master, and we can go to Commander Clarel in the morning.”

Avenie nodded. A Grey Warden. Somehow it felt right.

[parttimepuff]

Oh no rev has to talk about his extracurricular activities

"Why would Rev talk about his boyfriends?" Beep asked, tilting her head to the side. Her father wore the most deer in the headlights expression at that while his brother visibly and audibly struggled not to laugh. "And girlfriends, too, I guess." She added, almost as an afterthought. "B-beep-" Reverie muttered in hushed tone, trying to stop her. The king snorted. "Snrk. Yeah, ah don't think we need to go into that." Dedede stated, trying to move on for his sake. The Dream Fae, thoroughly embarrassed, had buried his face in his wings, halo burning hotter.

"You never talk about them!! What else do they mean about extracurricular activities!!!" Beep protested regardless. "Beep, I am Begging you-" Reverie pleaded. "You share that kinda stuff with yer kid?" Dedede half asked, half teased, not able to help messing with him just once. "Oh my god, no-" The Dream Fae insisted, despairing. "What? No? He keeps hiding certain memories from me." The Matter explained, miffed about it. "They are private-" Her father defended.

What she'd said caught the penguin's attention more than the banter. "You can look through memories?" Dedede asked. "Yeah, let's stick to that question." Reverie grumbled, wings crossed. "Yeah, but only if he’s not trying to hide them from m-" Beep began, then stopped abruptly, realizing exactly what she was explaining and to who, her eye wide. "…not feeling like either is a welcome topic, huh?" The king guessed. Moving past his embarrassment, the Dream Fae, too, understood what they'd landed on. "A-ah, well…" He tried to think of something to say. "I mean, I didn’t think you wanted to, talk about, that-" The Matter struggled to say. Now it finally dawned on the penguin how she managed the feat. "…ah. Yeah, maybe… maybe not." He mumbled.

A tense silence fell over the room which was broken by knocking from the front door. "Um, can I come back in yet?" The muffled voice of Kirby called in. Reverie wasn't sure if he was relieved by that or not. It might be the worst of the three topics they had now. The king stood up. "Can ah let him back in? Or, well, actually, we can both head out at this point." Dedede offered. "nnnn…" Beep groaned. She couldn't bring herself to decide one way or the other. By no means was she fully used to the hero's presence.

Seeing no one else making a move, Gremlin spoke up "…it's been a long day. I think we could all use a break. We can always meet up to talk more later, right?" He thought, looking around the room for agreement. "Y-yeah." Beep agreed hesitantly. The penguin nodded. "Alright, then. Ah'll see y'all later. And uh…" Dedede paused, looking between the father and daughter, mustering a small smile. "Welcome to Dreamland." He said, turning for the door. The Matter's eye welled up. They'd done it... It wasn't over, but they'd done it.

[aly-writes]

hi hi, if youre still taking requests (i wanted to ask bc ik u have very specific rules for sh) if i could request a one shot for sangwook feeling insecure abt his burn scars, maybe one of the others said smthn abt them, so reader shows him their old sh scars as like solidarity, 'we all have smthn going on' kinda thing🥺 bonding moment

this request is super cute and comforting, i'd be very happy to write it for you anon<3 sorry for the wait, lot's has been going on, but i'm glad i was finally able to get to this. i hope it lives up to your expectations!

word count: 1,774

warnings: mentions of self-harm, lots of mentions of self-harm scars, mentions of suicide and past suicidal tendencies, a little bit of comfort at the end

silent solidarities — pyeon sangwook

If there was one thing you learned from your stay in the green home, it was that everyone had something going on in their lives. The problems varied. It could be considered something low on the scale, such as not being able to afford an extra pack of their favorite treat. On the other hand, it could be something much more serious. Financial issues, mental health issues… the list could go on. Either way, it didn’t matter. No matter the seriousness of the issue, if it negatively affected somebody, it was worth taking a look at.

You liked to help people with their problems. Maybe—just maybe—it was because you understood the struggle of not having anyone to rely on. Feeling like you’re alone with no one to turn to. Thinking your issues were a burden, something that was up to you to carry by yourself and only yourself.

The few residents that remained in the green home thought that you were a beacon of hope. You were someone that they could vent their frustrations to when needed. You were a great listener, they all agreed on that. You were always so understanding and positive, it was almost like you weren’t even close to experiencing the stress that they did.

You helped with dinner, you did daily check-ups on those that would welcome them, and most importantly of all, you were a friend to anybody who needed one. And that was why you couldn’t leave Sangwook alone at dinner for the second week in a row.

Most of the other residents didn’t want to be around him. He was intimidating—you could understand that. It was natural to be scared after watching a man brutally murder another man with nothing but a hammer. Despite these common fears among the group, you knew he wasn’t as bad as they presumed. Call it a hunch.

Initially, you were only going to bring him his dinner and move along. He wasn’t one for talking and you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. It was a surprise to many when he decided to show up and get his own dinner for once. You gave him a friendly smile and served up the food as he straggled behind the rest of the line.

Everything was going smoothly. At least, it was. A single comment was what made him turn around and go to his normal spot. Away from everyone else. Alone.

“Look at those scars, isn’t he aware that they can scare people?”

The comment came from one of the residents. Son Hyein, to be exact. She had a knack for gossiping and could never keep her mouth sealed when it mattered most. You had to resist the urge to roll your eyes, and were about to go on with cleaning up the meal like normal.

But as you glanced up at Sangwook, you saw how his head tilted towards the ground. His feet were dragging just a little more than they usually were, and his shoulders were just a tad too tense. You were sure that people made comments about his scars before. They were such a prominent feature, after all. But that doesn’t mean that the occasional comment can’t get into his head.

You sighed softly, turning to Yuri and letting her know that you wouldn’t be able to help her clean up today. She thanked you for letting her know, and before you knew it, you were out the door. Following in Sangwook’s exact footsteps.

It didn’t take you long to find him. He was in his usual spot as you had predicted. Back leaning against the wall, his tray of food resting next to him. His head was down and his hair was covering his face. If you looked closely enough, you could almost see his eyebrows pinched together and his lips twitching downward.

You kept your footsteps as quiet as possible until you reached the spot next to him, sliding down the side of the wall. The only thing keeping your shoulders apart was the tray of food between you.

The atmosphere was quiet. It wasn’t tense, nor was it completely comfortable. Just quiet. There wasn’t a single word said between the two of you, and for a moment, you weren’t entirely sure if he had even noticed your presence. But that thought was irrational, you knew that he had, so you finally spoke up.

“Are you okay?”

It was a simple question. One asked so often, in fact, that most people had automatically come up with their own default answer. More often than not, it was a lie. Similar to the classic, ‘How are you?’ Most of the population would respond with a response that goes along the lines of, ‘I’m good, how are you?’

More often than not, these specified people were not doing good. But it was programmed into their brains to say that they were. That’s why you were expecting the answer that you received, his gravelly voice responding with a simple:

“I’m fine.”

You knew his tone all too well. It was the same one you used in the past, the one that you would muster up when someone was annoying you about your condition and you just wanted to be left alone. But if there was anything you had learned over your healing process, it was that things turned out better if you had company.

You didn’t want to force him to say anything, but you had some experience of your own when it came to the topic of insecurities. With a soft sigh, you gave him a glance.

“I think they’re kind of cool. They make you look strong, like somebody I’d trust to protect me.” You watched his posture loosen up a bit, and you quickly clarified your statement. “Your scars, I mean.”

“Your thought process is rare,” he responded blankly, keeping the scarred side of his face hidden from you. While it was a small statement, and frankly one that not many would be satisfied with, it was better than nothing.

You knew what he meant by it. Most people were scared of the way he looked, not welcomed by it. They didn’t have the most open minds.

You looked down at the sweater clamping around your torso. It was your favorite, it always had been. It was comfortable and oversized. You never had to worry about the sleeves slipping up a little too far or being too tight on your wrists.

The only time you ever took it off was to shower yourself and wash the piece of clothing. It was the perfect way to hide your vulnerability and an even better way to hide your insecurities. Nobody was aware of the marks on your arms. Not even your own parents.

You pursed your lips. Was now truly the time to do this? To a man you barely knew? But the little voice in your head was making a convincing argument.

The world has ended. What better time than now?

And it was right. You gripped your sleeve and gently rolled it up, allowing your wrist to come in contact with a human gaze that wasn’t yours for once. He hadn’t looked over at you yet, his gaze still fixed on the ground.

“I like to think of these as a sign that I’ve gotten stronger,” you stated proudly with a soft voice. Your eyes trailed over to him and you finally saw him look up at you. More specifically, your wrist. The widening of his eyes was so subtle that it was nearly impossible to notice.

You continued.

“I really wanted to die back then. Nothing seemed worth it, and the comfort of death sounded more appealing than the pain of living.” Your finger came up and traced the deepest scar of them all. “It took a lucky chance for me to realize that there was more to my life than I first realized.”

You turned towards him, watching as his eyes gazed up and down your arm. His gaze was so gentle. Looking at you as if you were glass and one wrong look would shatter you. You gave him a weak smile.

“Everyone has their own struggles and sometimes forget to think of other people,” you said, making it quite obvious who you were hinting to. You cleared your throat before bringing up your next point.

“Stuff like this—” You gestured to the many scars lining your wrist. “—can be hard to accept. I hated them. I hated them for years. But now that I look at how old they are, I realized that they’re a physical milestone. They show how much I’ve grown.”

You noticed that he was no longer covering his face with his hair, and you took the chance as it opened up. Your hand traveled up to his face and you gently traced his scar. His body tensed up as if he was in danger, but relaxed seconds later.

“It must have been rough,” you whispered, frowning. You weren’t sure how his scars came to be, but you could only imagine there was some type of story to it. You brought your hand down and gave him a soft pat on the shoulder. “I’m sure there are days where all you can think about is your story… but your scars show that you’re surviving. That you’re strong enough to keep going each day.”

And for the first time, he looked you in the eye. You weren’t sure of the emotion behind his gaze, but you knew that it wasn’t anything hateful or angry. He didn’t say anything and neither did you, but at that moment nothing needed to be said.

Your work here was done, you had said all that you thought could be spoken. You gave him one last encouraging smile before standing up. You brushed off the dust that had gathered on your pants and pulled your sleeve back down.

“Don’t forget to eat, you need to keep your strength up,” you called out.

As you traveled back to the rest of the group, you heard a faint voice call back to you. It was quiet, and you were convinced that he thought you wouldn’t be able to hear it. But you did, and what you heard was enough to bring an even bigger grin onto your lips.

Sangwook was a man of little emotion. But around you, it was different. And even if it took you a few more months, you’d do anything you could to hear that phrase be spoken to you over and over again in his voice. His warm, gruff voice.

“Thank you.”

[sukirichi]

— out of reach | gojo x reader

request: Girllllll I just read your jealous gojo fic and my heart went 📈📈📈📈💥💥💥 youre now one of my fav writers 🙏🧎‍♀️And the spicy parts 😫😫😫 💖 If your asks are still open, could I please request a fic where GOJO has a size kink 🥺🥺🥺 my 5’1 ass is obsessed with that shizzzz 

pov: you’re gojo’s childhood friend and roommate – which leads to utter chaos – or perhaps utter bliss?

warnings: size kink, lots of teasing, lots of cursing, dirty talk, choking (probably not in the way you think), body worship, lots of size difference scenes, slight manhandling, overstimulation, thigh fucking, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (don’t do this irl guys) + unedited fic :D

notes: idk what happened here LMAOOO but i loved writing this one because i’m short as hell too lol. thanks for this request anon, i hope you like it! <3

word count: 10.5k

masterlist ! 

If you’re going to be honest, having Gojo as a roommate is something completely unexpected.

Not only are you two from entirely different worlds – him as a jujutsu sorcerer and you as an average human who can’t see curses – but he’s also just someone who is entirely out of your league. He’s respected and looked up to in his field of work, while half of your co-workers don’t even know your name, much less notice you in function parties where you mostly just nibble on sushi before calling it a day and turning back home.

You and Gojo met in elementary school. You could tell from the way he’s surrounded by servants and stern looking adults, firm hands on his small shoulders, that he was different from everyone else.

Apparently, he comes from one of the three big clans in the jujutsu world or whatever. You honestly don’t care about any of that, because Gojo refuses to act maturely about his role in the clan. You still remember how quiet he was on the first day of school, never smiling and keeping to himself despite your persuasion to eat lunch with him or play with him after school in the courtyard.

You miss that Gojo Satoru – the quiet, serious kid who was far too gentle in his actions yet firm in his words and beliefs. When you were still a little girl, you admired how he seemed older than his age, a wistful look in those azure blue eyes of his that you’ve always loved.

To you, Gojo Satoru was your hero. You’ve always been one of the shortest kids in class, and it didn’t help that you really loved pigtails all the way until middle school that made you an easy target from immature people who’s being hit way too fast by puberty and growing each passing day. You never minded your short stature because really, it’s just height, but you couldn’t ignore how your confidence dwindled each day when they called you several array of nicknames.

Too shy to fight back, you’d laugh it off or force a smile.

Gojo wasn’t having any of it. He’d break his silence and immediately pull you to his side (which only made things worse because Gojo was one of the tallest kids in class, further emphasizing how small you are right next to him) before threatening to smack the kids right in the face.

The threat should be enough to land him detention, but because he’s Gojo Satoru, the golden kid everyone loved, they took his word seriously.

At the age of eleven, you started seeing your best friend as your knight in shining armour. Gojo basked in this, growing protective and always glaring at whoever snickered when you walked past them. Sometimes he even bared his teeth to hiss at them, which was honestly so ridiculous now that you think about, though the message – the threat – always came across loud and clear.

So yeah, you love Gojo, you still do.

Years flew by and the two of you grew apart due to work and also as a part of growing up. You still kept in contact, messaging each other once a month to ask the other how they’re doing. His work kept him extremely busy though, and Gojo didn’t want you involved in the dangers of what he’s doing, so he makes sure to keep a safe distance.

Until six months ago, you hear a banging on your door. You’re just about ready to throw hands because your former roommate moved out to live with her stoner boyfriend, leaving you to shoulder all the bills and responsibilities of maintaining a two man apartment.

A sneer forms on your lips as you swing the door open, a scowl already on your face. You assumed it was your roommate who returned to get the pair of lace panties they left in their room, but instead, your childhood friend stands before you, taller (seriously, how has he not stopped growing?) and definitely a lot hotter than the last time you saw him.

One thing leads to another, and now it feels like there was never such distance between the two of you with how easily you both fell back into a comfortable – yet chaotic – rhythm and routine of being each other’s roommate.

Not that you mind, of course. Gojo’s definitely changed a lot from when you were kids. He’s no longer that stiff or sensitive when it comes to others. In fact, it seems like he loosens up a lot more with age, because you can barely recognize the man living under the same roof with you now.

For one thing, Gojo is loud. Like really talkative, won’t shut the fuck up and speaks like he’s in a screaming contest with someone. It doesn’t matter if you’re taking an important phone call or sleepwalking at three in the morning to pee, Gojo is always creating some sort of ruckus.

You’d never admit it out loud, but you loved it. You love him.

He’s definitely a lot more enthusiastic and fun to be with now that both of you have grown up, or in Gojo’s case, simply aged. His maturity reversed backwards because it feels like you’re taking care of a little kid.

Not only does his body clock is practically non-existent, he’s also horrible when it comes to taking care of himself and being punctual with work.

Fortunately for him, you love him, and you both leave for work at the same time. You always wake up earlier to prepare breakfast so you’d both have energy to start the day – although you highly doubt there’s really anything that depletes his endless source of one.

Sleepily walking through the kitchen with your fist rubbing at your eyes, you rummage through the refrigerator for some eggs when you realize there’s none.

Huh, you think to yourself, scratching your scalp. You’re sure that Gojo went grocery shopping last week since it’s his chore to do the outside stuff like buying groceries and throwing thrash, so where did it go?

You open shelf by shelf, checking each corner and shoving cans aside to look for the tray. With a glare, you stand on your tiptoes to pull the pantry open, only to have your mouth fall aghast because it’s all there – right at the back where you can’t reach it!

Fucking Satoru, you grit your teeth while heaving your body up onto the counter. It’s a struggle because not only are your muscles still half asleep, but because the shelf is right in your face, and if you’re not careful enough, you could hit it right with your face and fall over. Of fucking course you know Satoru did this to make fun of you – and now you retract your statement over your best friend.

It’s all a lie.

He’s a pain in the ass. Why do you even bother cooking for him and letting him live literally just a room away when you know he won’t stop pulling shit like this?

Because, the nagging voice in your head tries to mock, he’s your best friend and you can’t really say no to him. This makes you huff as you carefully pull the tray towards you, hooking two fingers at the edge while your other palm grips at the end of the counter for support. No thanks to your short limbs, you’re practically hogging the shelf by now in an attempt to reach it. You look ridiculous, that’s for sure, and you make a mental note to keep Satoru’s windows open tonight so he freezes to death –

“Aw, cupcake,” a sing-song voice emerges from the other side of the room. “You look so adorable. You should’ve woke me up if you need my help.”

“Fuck off, Satoru,” you flip him off. The man only laughs, the rambunctious sound echoing off the walls. It’s way too early in the morning and he’s already so damn loud; something builds up at the back of your head out of frustration already. His grin only gets wider when you finally got the eggs and clutch it your chest, setting it down on the counter while wiping your sweat away from your face. “Freeloader,” you mutter under your breath, ignoring him when he happily skips over to you.

“Ouch,” he places a palm over his chest, although you both know he’s never really affected by anything. “So what’s for breakfast today? You?”

“You know, I can kick you out anytime I want. I’m being extremely nice even going as far to cook you breakfast before you leave for work, so don’t test my patience.”

“Exactly, my best friend is so kind,” Satoru grows the audacity to rest his arm on your head. This triggers a reflexive response from you; shoulders tensing up and hands curling into fists beside you. “I would totally date her if she wasn’t such a temperamental little devil,” you nearly stab him with a fork with his statement, which he thinks he’s being so sly for but you heard it, and you’re most definitely not pleased with it. “Okay, I’m kidding! I’m going to go shower now!”

You roll your eyes at him and heat the pan over with some oil, muttering under your breath that you’re really going to kick him out soon. As if things couldn’t get worse – as if Satoru couldn’t get any worse – he smacks your backside in the process before darting to the showers.

“Gojo Satoru!”

“Morning, best friend, love ya!”

You were right. He is a pain in the ass.

“You don’t always have to walk me to work.”

“I know.”

“So why’re you still here? I’m not a little kid anymore,” Contrary to your words, you stick closer to Satoru when the morning rush of workers and students begin to crowd the streets. Your best friend notices this with a small smile, his hand resting on the small of your back. “Don’t even try, Satoru.”

“I wasn’t saying anything.”

“I know that look on your face,” you fiddle with the buttons of your uniform, sighing when Satoru follows you inside the bus after tapping your phone for two seats. It’s not a surprise to you anymore that most of your expenses are spent by him, for him, and he lazily sprawls his long limbs across the seat before you pulling you down right next to him.

As much as you hate this man, especially because he smirks at the attention he’s receiving from women – even men – in the bus, you have to admit he’s warm and smells damn good. You bite the inside of your cheeks, looking around in slight self-consciousness before inching a little closer, just to feel his warmth. He’s comforting – irrationally so – so you set your bag between the both of you to keep your sanity. “If you keep doing this, Principal Yaga might fire your ass because you’re never on time.”

“Trust me, cupcake, he won’t. I’m too valuable for that.”

How you saw that coming – you can’t tell anymore. The bus ride is relatively quiet and eventless, with you dozing off every now and then because you’re never a morning person. Thankfully, Satoru is more respectful this time around, lolling your head until it drops to his shoulder. After that, he snakes his arm around your waist before resting it on your thigh as a way to say you don’t have to head bang every damn second and just sleep.

On any other occasion, you would’ve hated it. You always look so small whenever you’re in Satoru’s presence. It doesn’t help that he’s long and lanky, either, his slender fingers effortlessly caressing your thigh while almost your entire body is flushed next to him. But right now, he’s too warm, too soft, and you’re too tired that for just a little bit, you allow yourself to relax.

A beeping wakes you up a moment later. Opening your eyes, you push yourself off Satoru when you see an old lady reaching for the handles. No one gave up their seats for her even as the bus driver asked her to find a seat lest she’d fall.

“Grandma, here, take my seat—” You’re about to stand up and offer it to her when Satoru tugs you by the wrist. Because of your small, wobbly composure, pulling you to him takes little to no effort. You end up on his lap, sitting on him as if you’re nothing but a small, dainty schoolbag. Satoru is clearly enjoying this because you feel him breathily laugh on the back of your neck, charming – annoyingly so – as he gestures to the now empty spot beside him.

“It’s no worries, Grandma. She’ll be fine,” he gestures to you, patting your head like you’re some puppy. “Please, take a seat. The bus is already moving.”

“Satoru, get off me,” You wriggle yourself from his hold, which only ends up in wasted effort because this big oaf doesn’t even budge. He even bounces you on one of his thighs, and you dig your nails into his arms as a silent plead for him to stop. He ignores this, ignores your small whines and the apparent embarrassment that has you debating whether to punch him or hide yourself in the safety of his uniform.

“She’s a feisty little one, isn’t she?”

The old lady watches the two of you banter, giggling behind her wrinkled hands. “You’re an adorable couple.”

“I think so too!”

“You’re so going to pay for this, Satoru,” you grumble, face planted onto your palms. This is it – the worst day of your life. It’s even worse because despite your protests, you have to admit his lap is actually comfortable. You’ve already known this before after countless times of cuddling with Satoru during movie nights, but its different when you’re both out in public. It feels...oddly intimate and maybe even romantic when he rubs soothing circles at your back, almost as if apologizing for this event. Most of all, you just hate the way something pools beneath your stomach at having him so close to you like this. “This is so embarrassing. I’m practically crushing you with my weight.”

“Please, cupcake, you barely weigh anything. I could easily lift you off with just my finger,” when you elbow him in the chest, Satoru only laughs, raising both hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’ll stop teasing.”

You give up. No one seems to be paying much attention to any of you anyway, so you sigh, letting yourself hide in the crook of his neck as you watch the city pass through the windows. Your body moves as his chest rises and falls from his breathing, the movement oddly comforting. It’s embarrassing – it really is – but at least the grandma was comfortable until Satoru drops you off near your building.

“You don’t have to walk me all the way there.”

“Why not? You don’t want people to see us together or something?”

“No,” you stare at him from the corner of your eye. It’s no secret Satoru is attractive. This bastard knows it too, judging from the way he confidently and arrogantly swaggers next to you, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he walked with no care in the world. “My co-workers keep asking me for your number every time I tell them we’re not dating. It’s getting annoying at this point how they go Satoru this and Satoru that.”

“Am I hearing it right? Is cupcake jealous?”

“I’m not jealous, I’m disgusted,” you correct, “They don’t know how much of a pain you are to have around. They’re so focused with your looks that they completely overlook the fact you can’t even wash your dirty underwear!”

Satoru frowns at this, pointing his finger to you as if you’ve accused him of a huge crime. “Hey, I wash my underwear.”

“Yeah and last time you did, you mixed it with whites! My work uniform turned a stupid shade of blue! Now I can’t picture the colour of your boxers out of my head and it’s giving me a headache!”

“Wow, Y/N,” the smirk on his face and the sudden drop of nicknames lets you know you’ve said something wrong. Even behind his blindfold, you could tell his eyes are just sparkling with amusement. He’s enjoying this way too much. “I never thought you’d ever picture my boxers. I mean, I don’t mind showing it to you if you ask nicely—”

“Ugh, you’re so hopeless. I’m going to work.”

Gojo laughs when you jog away from him. He catches up with you in a matter of seconds, only having to take a few steps forward before he’s right beside you again. You’re unsure if you should be annoyed it’s so easy for him to always be right next to you, and how he almost always is right next to you while you prefer running away. It muddles with your heart and mind so much you pinch the bridge of your nose, trying not to be swayed by the sickeningly sweet sound of his laughter. “I can’t pick you up later, okay? I might work overtime!” (that’s a lie since Gojo prefers shopping and sightseeing)

Both of you know that’s a lie. Gojo never works overtime. He’s going to work for a few hours and so and call playing around with his students as “on-hand learning” before he goes shopping for stupid souvenirs and wild-flavoured mochis, then end his day by sightseeing and coming back home.

“Wasn’t expecting you to,” you mumble, waving goodbye to him as the office doors close. Slowly, Satoru’s grin and enthusiastic farewell fades into view until nothing but the pale, silver walls of your office greets you.

Funny how you claim to hate this man so much, yet the moment he’s out of sight, everything becomes dull and pointless.

It’s an absolutely shitty day. Your equally shitty boss blames you for something you didn’t even do, all because his incompetent secretary – who you’re sure he’s sleeping with – lost this month’s report and claimed she handed it to you last week when you’re not involved in that kind of work. Logic doesn’t come by them because your boss publicly humiliates and scolds you, calling you all kinds of names until tears are streaming down your face.

You slam the door shut the moment you get home, kicking your shoes off as you head straight to your room. You don’t bother taking your makeup off anymore as you change into a loose shirt and floral cotton shirts, padding to the kitchen after seeing Satoru is well nestled into the couch.

At least someone’s had a good day.

Seeing as the sink is empty, he probably hasn’t eaten dinner. This makes you sigh, because when will he ever learn to look after himself? He’s literally like a child.

Satoru pauses whatever he’s watching before he hovers over you, head tilted to the side as he gazes at you with curiosity. You ignore him and begin to set down some bowls and chopsticks for dinner, all the while Satoru is studying every inch of your tightly pulled face. “Bad day?” he concludes.

“Hmm.”

“Bad day it is then,” he nods to himself. “I can cook dinner, if you want.”

“And have you burn my apartment? No thanks,” you scoff, pushing him aside to retrieve the pans when you see that he’s placed them above again, even after you’ve reminded countless times to just leave it near the holders in the sink. “Ugh, why do you keep putting the pans in this shelf? You know I can’t reach this. I’ve had enough with you pulling pranks on me, and don’t think I’ve forgotten you placed my shampoo above the shower head today, you idiot,” you snarl and hop over the counter again to get the pans, trying your best to fight back the tears that are threatening to fall. “You’re really bothersome, you know that?”

“Then why don’t you kick me out?” he challenges, completely oblivious to how you’re struggling – both physically and emotionally. “You always complain about me being a nuisance here, but you’re not really doing anything to keep me out.”

“Because where else would you go?”

“Technically, I have a room back at the Institute.”

“Yeah, but because you’re so stupid and reckless that you got kicked out of your own home,” you spat out, and you watch as Satoru raises a brow at your statement. Banter is common between the both of you, but something about the intensity of your gaze lets him know you’re serious this time around. “I don’t even know how Yuuji puts up with you. That poor Megumi is right when he says you’re insufferable. You’re good for nothing!”

Satoru scoffs, “Fine, if you hate me that much, why didn’t you just say so earlier? I could easily pack my bags and go since I’m just making everything harder—” Satoru doesn’t get to finish what he’s saying when your hand over the counter that acts as support slips under you, and you fall, legs bent awkwardly while you scream, preparing yourself for the impact. The pan is long forgotten, your only thought was oh my god, so this is how I die.

But it never came, and you keep your eyes shut tight even as warm hands cup your ass. Satoru is breathing hard under you. Finally gaining the courage to crack an eye open, your breath halts when you see that he’s sitting on the floor, with you safely nestled between him.

Satoru has always had pretty eyes, but it’s rare he takes off his blindfold off even when he’s home. This is one of those rare occurrences that he seems like a normal human, dressed in a gray sweatshirt that hands low from his collarbones and magnetic blue eyes staring right back at you. His touch is gentle, almost as if he’s afraid to hurt you, and his voice that is usually loud and teasing comes out breathy and hesitant.

“Are you okay?”

Your gaze drops down to his lips. He’s close, so close, that if you just lean a little closer you could – you snap out of your daze. “Get off me.”

“Cupcake, you’re the one who’s on top of me,” his voice falls an octave lower, eyes flitting down to your clothing – or rather the lack of it – before Satoru takes a deep breath. “Did you really have to wear that?”

“I have the right to wear whatever I want in the comfort of my own home.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” he raised a brow, this time completely in control of himself as he gazes back up at you with a burning gaze. You see nothing but the way one corner of his lips tilt up, almost teasing, and he looks so much like a shit-eater that you feel heat crawl down your spine.

You push yourself off him but your bent foot behind you slips, and you fall forward with your hands clutching his strong shoulders. Satoru catches your leg behind you, drags it forward until your knee is pressed in between one of your warmth, very much still enjoying the way you wriggle away from his hold. He knows his effect on you – but you deny this wholeheartedly.

“Careful, cupcake. This isn’t a slip and slide.”

“I hate you so much,” you bare your teeth at him, slapping his chest until he finally lets go of you. Turning your back to him, you pick up the pan and begin preparing your dinner, muttering curses under your breath as you heat up the stove. “I’m kicking you out tomorrow.”

“Why not now?”

“Eat your damn dinner first.”

Dinner after that is awkward. Although Gojo is someone who can wolf down his meal in three seconds, he takes his time in eating to start conversation with you. Sometimes he asks decent questions like how your day was or he’d talk about something stupid, but he’s quiet the whole time. He even volunteers to do the dishes before retreating to his room, coating the house in silence.

It almost feels like you’re all alone over again.

You’ve gotten so used to him being an utter mess everywhere that when he’s not trying to piss you off and actually giving you the much needed peace, you begin to hate it. Memories of the rude things you’ve said to him a while ago play and in your head, and you bang your head against the wall repeatedly.

How are you supposed to apologize to Satoru now?

The answer doesn’t come until you stare at your walls, wide awake at midnight. The house is still eerily silent and you don’t stop shuffling around your bed in discomfort. Many times, you wished that Satoru would shut up and leave you alone, but now that he’s actually done that, it feels weird. Uncomfortable. It feels wrong.

With a grunt, you kick off the sheets and carefully tread to his room, knocking lightly in case he’s already sleeping. “Satoru?” you call out, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “Are you awake?”

You’ve seen Satoru angry as kids before, but what would he be like now? Would he still want to be your friend? Would he still annoy you by hiding your things somewhere you can’t reach? Or would he be the who is now out of reach? If he leaves...who’s going to walk you to work? Who’s going to complain he doesn’t want to do groceries but buys you things you don’t ask for but want anyway? Who’s going to keep teasing the living daylights out of you if not him?

All these thoughts claw at the back of your mind until your bottom lip trembles. You hate how weak you feel; how you’re never careful with your words.

You never meant it when you said all that.

Your train of thought is cut off when the door swings open, revealing an equally tired-looking Satoru. At the sight of you peering up at him with glossy eyes, he pushes the door wider and steps closer to you, his large hands cupping your face as he leans down in worry. “Cupcake,” his brows pinch together, “Did something happen? Is something wrong?”

“I just wanted to apologize for everything I said,” you blurt out, “I was just tired from work and my boss was being shitty, so I wasn’t totally myself that time and I’m really sorry I took my anger out on you. I didn’t mean it when I said you’re insufferable and that I’m kicking you out so – yeah,” you breathe out, trailing your gaze downwards to stare at your feet instead. It’s difficult to look him in the eye right now. When you finally gain courage to speak again, it barely comes out as a whimper, your hands delicately tugging at his shirt. “Please stay. I like having my best friend around here.”

Satoru doesn’t answer.

You’re about to look up at him just in case you’ve said something wrong, or worse, he refuses to forgive you, but then – “Yeah, I know you wouldn’t kick me out. You’re too much of a darling to say no to me.”

Sigh. Satoru laughs when he sees your shoulders deflate, absolutely shattered in exhaustion. Hiding your smile to now show him you’re relieved, you punch his chest that really feels like a fly had accidentally flew into him. “Way to ruin the mood, Satoru. And here I thought I could have a serious conversation with you for once.”

“Apology accepted,” he beams, tilting your chin upwards so you could look at him. Even in the darkness of his room, his eyes glow, leaving you hypnotized in its beauty. “Plus, I think I’m the one who should apologize. You’re right; I haven’t been the best roommate and I am a freeloader,” he scratches the side of his head in thought. “But I do buy you food all the time though.”

“Yeah, with my money,” you counter, but you don’t really care anymore at this point. You’re beyond elated you’re both fine now, and you shyly gesture to his big, warm bed that suddenly looks so comfortable. “Can I stay here for tonight?”

“You want Satoru’s bear hug?”

“Yes, I do.” There’s no hesitation in your words and you don’t complain anymore when he easily picks you up like a ragdoll using only one arm. He’s surprisingly gentle when he places you both down on the bed, sheets warm and soft as it blankets over you.

It would be perfect – except it’s so damn awkward.

Gojo’s long limbs are everywhere. Your face is pressed into his chest, both your legs tangled together. His arm is sprawled over the curve of your hip, his hand nearly grazing your ass that’s barely covered by the thin material of your shorts, but if he shifts, he’ll end up cupping the back of your thighs which is equally uncomfortable.

He seems to be stuck in the same position because you’re so small, and your knees are grazing his groin. Had he known you’re going to sleep with him, he would’ve worn underwear or even boxers under his sweatpants.

He’s never told you before, but he prefers to sleep in the nude. Satoru only picked up the nearest pair of pants when he heard you knock, and even then, he didn’t have the time to wear a shirt.

Your breath is hot on his skin and he’s so sensitive and aware of all your movements. Satoru clears his throat awkwardly, shifting until his arm lightly holds your back instead, but then he pulls away as if he’s touched fire when he’d unknowingly fiddled with your bra clasp instead. It’s so painfully awkward that Satoru chuckles above you, while you scrunch your nose, silently praying to the heavens above that he won’t hear how loud your heart is beating right now.

“Why is it so hot in your own room?”

“Maybe it’s time you get me an AC.”

“You wish, Satoru,” you mumble beneath him, making yourself as comfortable as you can with your cheek resting on his bicep. It’s not the softest pillow considering he’s pretty muscular, but he’s warm and smells like mint spice nevertheless. “You’re really not going to put on a shirt?”

Satoru sighs, a long and loud one that is extended for dramatic purposes. Suddenly, he pushes your knee off of him, grimacing and thanking the darkness that you can’t see how much he’s struggling right now. “Cupcake, this is hard for me as much as it is for you. You’re barely wearing anything.”

“Since when have you cared about what I wear?”

“I’m a man, Y/N,” is what he reasons with, “You’re lucky it’s me. Had it been someone else and you crawled into their bed wearing these—” Satoru pinches the waistband of your shorts, and you squeal in protest, only making him laugh afterwards before he lets it go and the material snaps back at your skin, “—poor excuse of what you call shorts, I can’t guarantee they’ll give you a peaceful night.”

You know exactly what he’s trying to hint at. Still, it’s hard to believe that Satoru is capable of seeing you that way.

It’s not that you feel you’re unattractive. You know you’re pretty and have been out on many dates, but it’s easy to feel that you’re not sexy when you have the height of a thirteen year old and you’ve been constantly chastised about it.

Satoru’s not-compliment compliment has your heart skipping a beat, and you scoff in response. “Shut up,” you warn lamely, “I want to sleep.”

“Then let’s sleep, cupcake.” You don’t know if it’s because you’re utterly exhausted that you doze off seconds later or if Satoru’s words just held power in them, but soon all thoughts of anything unwanted drifts out the window, his arms keeping you close, completely safe and sound until the worst nightmares couldn’t even come close.

Hot. It’s extremely hot.

You crack an eye open to try and find the source of this uncomfortable heat, but you freeze when you realize you can’t feel your muscles from the chin down. Panic rises in your throat once you see the current predicament you’re in, and a scream rips through your throat so loud that the birds outside scurry away in a flurry.

You’re wrapped in Satoru’s blanket and comforter, rendering you unable to move because of how he’d treated you like a burrito wrap. Even your toes are captured inside this hell, and only your head is able to wriggle side to side.

“Satoru!”

The culprit comes out of the shower a split second later, his hair dripping wet and only a towel hanging low from his lips. If you weren’t so hell-bent on killing him, you would’ve been speechless at the way water drips from his hair down to the curves of his abs, going down down down into a place only your darkest imaginations could take you.

Satoru bends over in laughter as he whips out his phone, jumping from angle to angle and side to side to take photos of you. “Fuck,” he howls, slapping his thigh while you snarl in an attempt to break free. “You’re a lot cuter than I thought you’d be.”

“Satoru! Get me out of here!”

“No, this is way too gold. I’m sending these to my students.”

“Satoru, I’m serious!” The devil incarnate himself falls deaf to your please.

Maybe it’s because the violent intent has coursed through your veins so strongly that a surge of energy and strength overcomes you, and soon, you’ve rolled out of the blanket. The fresh air nipping at your heated skin is most welcomed, but right now, you had a mission to fulfil: obliterate Gojo Satoru.

The platinum haired man is still laughing to himself, too distracted in scrolling through the best photos to send to his students that he doesn’t notice you escaping and zooming straight right at him.

The momentum is enough to catch him off guard until you end up on top of him, short arms clawing your way through to snatch his phone. Satoru yelps when his phone lands out into the living room and your hands come down to choke him. You don’t have plans to kill him, but you want to hurt him enough to remind him you’re not someone he can fuck with.

You’ve just about had enough of this man and you’re so sick of him!

Satoru yells out a “Hey!” when you let out a battle cry, using your legs to kick him back when he tries to sit up. Your plan backfires when your hands slip down his wet skin and you fall face forwards, hands barely touching the ground for support when your lips come crashing down on his.

He stills underneath you. It takes a moment for you to realize that holy shit, you’re kissing him and his lips are so soft that has you scrambling back, but Satoru doesn’t let you.

His large hand comes up at the back of your neck to pull you forward. The sudden movement makes you gasp, and Satoru slips his tongue inside when you do so. You no longer remember how you got here or try to make sense of what’s going on, because he feels so good, tastes so good that you bury your nails in his hair while he ravishes your mouth.

You’re so tiny that his hand cups your entire buttcheek almost possessively, a low growl emanating deep in his throat when your tongue eagerly intertwines with his. Satoru tastes like heaven and everything about the kiss is sloppy – tongue clashing with one another and teeth nibbling at the other’s lips. It’s clear both of you can’t get enough of one another as you moan in his mouth, shamelessly grinding on his crotch, suddenly thankful that you’re always wearing thin clothes when you feel him harden underneath you.

“Fuck, baby,” he pulls away to breathe, a string of saliva connecting the both of you. “Yeah, just like that,” There’s something empowering about the way he pants at your ministrations, especially when you roll your hips faster across his erection. “Keep going, baby, you’re doing – fuck – so well.”

You smirk at his praises, latching your teeth on his neck to suck marks on them. Satoru groans at the same time you muffle your moans through his skin, his hands sliding under your shirt to tug the cups of your bra down. You nearly lose it when he pinches your nipple, bolts of electricity running down your spine at the contact. A moan breaks through your lips just as you come right there and then, the wetness of your sudden orgasm barely hidden in your flimsy underwear.

“Feel good?” he teases and drags your shirt down to the other side, but the post-nut clarity hits. And when it does, it hits hard.

Fuck. You just came from Satoru’s simple touches, and he’s so unsatisfied, still painfully hard underneath you but nothing but panic and regret washes over you like a strong tidal wave. Suddenly, you grow lightheaded as you push yourself off him, fixing your bra while ignoring the confused and hurt look on his face.

“I gotta go to work,” you run out the room, feeling your body tremble as Satoru runs after you. “Make yourself breakfast. I’ll eat on the way out.”

“Y/N, wait!”

You know you’ve just ruined everything – that nothing will ever be the same after that – but you’re scared, utterly and remorsefully so, that you slam the door right in his face as if you don’t have any idea how much you broke him.

You’ll never forget the way Satoru’s face fell when you left.

Just as you thought, nothing is the same after that. The tension is so thick around the apartment you make an effort and go out of your way just to avoid him and the apartment completely.

It’s cowardly – you know this much – but do you ever try to fix the friendship you cherish but shattered completely? You don’t. You don’t because it only crashes down onto you now that maybe your feelings for him aren’t just platonic, after all. It’s even worse because you touch yourself at the thought of him filling you up when he’s asleep, all because you want him so bad and the mere presence of him has your brain malfunctioning.

It isn’t entirely sexual either. Yes, you want to fuck him badly, but it scares you down to the core even more because you want so much more than that.

Now you understand why you always say he’s a bother but never asked him to leave. It’s because you like him, actually romantically interested in him. It makes sense now why you always felt so annoyed whenever your co-workers asked for his number, or how you’re immediately pissed off when Satoru talks about this hot woman he saw at work. You always chalk it up to an excuse you just hate how he can’t keep in his pants, but it isn’t true at all.

It’s because you actually like him – and you’re at a loss on what to do or how to deal with it.

The next few days feels like hell. Satoru isn’t stupid; he knows you’re avoiding him. He stops teasing you eventually and even buys takeout all the time when you lock yourself up in your room right after work, refusing to cook dinner or even eat all so you’d be spared the torture of looking at him.

He’d knock at your door and ask you to eat, but other than that, he’s respected your distance.

You feel like the most terrible person on earth. You don’t miss the way dark circles line under his eyes or how he’s lost his spark, barely even speaking to you when you’ve come or about to leave for work.

You’re alone the whole ride, as well, and it only dawns on you how lonely you are when Satoru isn’t always annoying you all the time.

But it doesn’t make sense. Why is he so bothered by it? Didn’t he regret it? It’s painfully clear you’re not Satoru’s type. You’ve seen the women he dated before, and you’re not close to them so why does he seem like he’s struggling with this as well? Or maybe...he’s just sad that his friend is avoiding him.

Yeah, that has to be it.

Satoru is a man. He was probably turned on at that time, but after giving some thought about it, he probably wants to keep his distance too. He’d be insane if he ever actually wants to date you – his best friend out of all people – because he’s Gojo Satoru and he could literally have everyone else.

You don’t care that you’re a coward.

You don’t care that Satoru is sad to see you this way.

You don’t care because you know he’ll reject you, you know he’ll be weirded if you admit your feelings for him. To him, you’re like his little sister. There’s just no way you two would work out. For now, you have to get comfortable with the uncomfortable. You just need some time to get over your feelings for him, and when you’re confident you won’t fall for him again, you’ll mend your friendship.

You just need time.

“So, Y/N, you still don’t want to give us your friend’s number?”

“Yeah, Y/N, you should share it,” your co-worker encourages by jabbing her shoulder to yours. It’s a lazy Friday night and the staff went out for dinner. You don’t usually come to these hangouts since dinner with Satoru is always much more fun, but he’s the last person you want to think about now, so you happily join them. Now, though, you’re starting to regret ever coming here. “If he’s really single like you said, then it shouldn’t be a big deal to ask for it.”

“Well, since you want it so badly, why don’t you ask him directly for it instead?” you snap, feeling anger begin to trickle. All you wanted was just one day where you don’t have to think of him, but of course they had to bring him up. It’s also annoying how they can never seem to get the message across that you don’t want them dating him. “Why do I have to be the messenger?”

“We haven’t seen him much. Doesn’t he always walk you to work?”

“He’s been busy with his job, that’s all.” And also because I’m avoiding him – so now he’s avoiding me too.

“He’s a teacher, right?”

“Oh, come on, guys, don’t be so dense,” your senpai chugged her drink rather loudly, catching the attention of your nosy co-workers who wouldn’t stop pestering you for his number. “Look at how uncomfortable she looks. It’s obvious she doesn’t want you guys to be involved with her friend for a reason. Think of how weird it is for her too if ever her co-worker and best friend dated. She’s going to feel like a third wheel.”

“I’m not—”

“That makes sense,” your co-worker nodded beside you, “Are you sure you just don’t like him though?”

“Ew, why would I?” the food began to taste bitter through your lies, “He may be tall and attractive, but as his roommate, I’ve seen his ugly side. Satoru is a complete slob and can’t even cook to save his life.”

“I don’t mind cooking for him all the time if I were to be his little housewife.”

“That’s never gonna happen,” your words came out harsher than it was, and you laugh it off with a wave of your hand when your co-workers’ eyes widened. “I’ve been living with him for six months and he’s never brought anyone home or told me he’s going on a date. I told you already, he’s a no strings attached kind of guy. He’s nothing but a one night stand.”

“You have to admit he’s still sexy though.”

Right. You hide your groan through another shot because there’s no way of convincing them otherwise. As much as you hate to admit, you’re actually jealous on how freely they could talk about him like that, but then again, it’s not like you and Satoru were dating – or would ever date, for that matter.

They start to leave one by one when it starts to get late, leaving only you who’s still desperate to avoid Satoru. Nothing prepares you for when the sky darkens and a storm comes pouring just as you’ve left the closing shop, the rain drenching and soaking your clothes through and through. Running under the nearest tree for shelter, you shiver. It’s cold – way too cold – and curse yourself for not bringing a darned umbrella.

The nearest bus stop is like what, fifteen to twenty minutes away? Your teeth are chattering and your legs are shaking, and you fumble through your phone as you dial a number you know by heart before you even realize what you’re doing. “S-Satoru?”

“Y/N,” the surprise is unmasked in his voice, something shuffling in the background before it falls silent. “Is everything okay?”

“Uhm, are you busy right now? It’s fine if you are, I’m just—”

“I’m training with Yuuji, but what is it?”

“Listen, I,” you inhale sharply when coldness bursts through your body, making you shiver and press yourself closer to tree to get away from the rain. Above you, thunder crackles before the rain grows heavier and angrier. “I forgot to bring an umbrella and I’m absolutely soaked right now. The nearest bus stop is fifteen minutes away and all the buildings here look so shady—”

“I’ll be on my way. Text me where you are,” You nod and thank him, too cold and numb to realize you’ve just broken days of silence. You lose track of time under there, hugging yourself until your lips turn blue. It doesn’t take long before Satoru shows up minutes later, his hair equally drenched and sticking flat to his eyes free from his blindfold while he pants, hand on his knees. “Thank goodness you’re safe. I rushed here so fast I forgot to bring an umbrella.”

After seeing Satoru drenched like that, something snaps within you. He doesn’t seem bothered by the fact the rain is unforgiving as it slaps the pavement, and your heart breaks when you see that he’s more concerned for you – even after you’ve given him the silent treatment. “You idiot! Now you’re soaking wet too, you’re going to get sick!”

“Highly unlikely,” he shrugs. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

“But what about—” Satoru suddenly carries you before draping his coat over your head, running until he found a cab to hail. He immediately asks the driver to turn up the heater while you tremble on top of him, not caring anymore that you’re sticking so close to him for heat.

Satoru doesn’t let you go all the way inside the apartment. He sets you down on the couch where you take off your wet clothes in haste, too cold with teeth chattering that you silently take the hoodie and boxers Satoru offers you, making sure to keep his gaze averted the whole time. Once fully dressed, you snuggle back into the sofa’s comfort, stiffening when the couch dips beside you.

Not a moment later, Satoru towel-dries your hair, leaving your mouth and throat dry with guilt. Even after you’ve unnecessarily been a bitch to him, he’s still so kind with you.

“Thank you for coming.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Satoru...” you twiddle with your thumbs just as he starts to ruffle the towel in your hair, making sure to squeeze water out of the strands as he dries it. “About what happened the other day—”

“It didn’t happen if you don’t want it to,” his voice is cold’ monotonous and so emotionless you’re rendered speechless. “You can forget about it.”

“I...”

“You regret it, right?” he’s done with drying your hair, and he stands up to place the wet towels in the sink as you watch him stride all the way there. He’s changed his clothes too; looking comfortable in a plain white shirt and some grey sweatpants, looking every bit the domestic boyfriend you’ve always wanted but can never have. “It’s fine. We can forget about it and go back to normal,” to emphasize his point, Satoru winks at you, though it does nothing but make your heart sink.

“What if I don’t want to forget it?” your voice is small; hesitant and wavering with fear. “What if...the only reason I pulled away is because I wanted more of you?”

Satoru’s back freezes as he sets the towel aside. At this point, your heart is pulsing on your tongue, and you dig your nails onto your thighs when Satoru sits down next to you, right next to you. He’s silent the whole time; eyes calculatedly piercing through yours. Your breath hitches when his hands that are burning hot against your cold skin cups your jaw before his thumb runs across your lips, his eyes turning dark at your reactions.

“And what if I said I felt the same way?”

“I,” you gasp, closing your eyes because it all feels so surreal. “I like you, Satoru. I like you a lot and I—” he doesn’t let you finish. Soon, you find yourself in his lap with his hands cupping your cheeks while he smashes his lips onto yours.

Satoru is absolutely feral. He’s breathing hard and almost angry, even, with the way his teeth are biting down to nibble on your lips. You moan when he drags you closer, your clothed centre rubbing on his thigh with delicious friction. “You have no idea,” he rasps down on your lips, “how much I’ve fucking liked you ever since we were kids,” Satoru pushes his hoodie aside, revealing your sweet neck to him, and he doesn’t waste his time in sucking and abusing the poor flesh so he can mark you as his. “I’ve always wanted you, Y/N, it’s always you, always you.”

You fist his hoodie when Satoru sinks his teeth down into the juncture of your neck, his hands curious and exploring every inch of your body. He knows you’re naked underneath his clothes, but it’s a different thing when he actually feels your breasts right on his palm. Satoru tweaks the hardened bud in his fingers, growling when you moan at the contact and use his thigh to get off.

“You—” you gasp as you expose your neck to him, wild and needy as you keep rubbing your heat over his thigh. “—talk way too fucking much,” you scold, finally pushing his lips away from your neck. Satoru chuckles at your eagerness but you silence him by flinging his boxers off of your body and somewhere far away, exposing your heat slick with arousal right in front of him. His pupils blow in excitement, hands coming up to grab at your hips, but his attention is taken away when you nibble on his ear to whisper, “Shut up and fuck me.”

The simple command is enough to make his patience snap. In a flash, you’re pinned underneath him, whining and moaning when his finger meets no resistance as he slips it inside. “You’re that needy, huh?” he laughs even louder when you lose it, humping yourself on his finger because it’s not enough.

“Satoru,” you beg, clutching his bicep when he adds another finger in. “More.”

His fingers are so long, hitting places that your small ones could never reach. He begins to scissor his way in, his fingers deliciously rubbing against your velvety walls while pumping them inside and out in a speed that causes you to squelch around him.

It’s absolutely lewd how you’re eagerly spread out before him, but your head is clouded with lust, no longer hindered by shyness out of your need to cum. Your chest is rising heavily, his thumb now rubbing against your clit as he coaxes you to cum. “Tell me what you want, baby,” he kisses your cheeks, eyelids, nose, anywhere but your lips, his voice so gentle and innocent as if he’s not knuckle deep inside you. “Tell me how you want me.”

“Inside,” you whine, gasping when he brushes against a really sensitive spot that has you clamping down on him. “‘Toru, fuck, just fuck me.”

“Beg for it,” he smiles against your skin, relentless and harsh as he keeps pushing inside you. You feel him everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Another finger adds in until you’re dripping enough on his palm and staining the couch, but neither of you care. “I said, beg for it.”

“No,” you hold back, nearly crying out when he pulls your fingers out of you. That sudden emptiness is back again, but you don’t want to beg. You’ve never begged another man before, and this won’t be the first time you’ll be doing so either. You refuse to let him have the upper hand despite the crystal clear fact you’re already soaking wet for him, but because you’re stubborn, you only fumble with his sweatpants to spring his cock free.

He’s already dripping with pre-cum from the slit, his cock hard and angry. Despite his arousal, Satoru stops you from going further, using only one hand to trap both your wrists. “Beg for it,” he demands again, his other fist already pumping down on his shaft.

You nearly cry at the sight. Both of you are aware that Satoru is capable of pleasuring himself, but it’s not that easy for you. Your small, dainty fingers will never be parallel to the pleasure his long cock could give you. All you had to do was beg for it. He’s right there, within reach, if only you’d just –

Impatient for your answer, Satoru takes you by the hips and discards your hoodie in the process, sinking you down his cock, inch by delicious inch. You don’t hold back from the sensual and high-pitched moan that leaves your lips. He’s long, and the tip of his cock just about brushes your cervix when he bottoms out. He feels so good, so warm and huge and filling you up right where you want him to be. Your head falls down on his shoulder as you begin to roll your hips, but Satoru has had enough.

“Fuck, look at you,” he presses on the bulge of his cock visible through your abdomen. “You’re so fucking small – how do you take me so well? I could ruin you. Do you want that? Do you want me to ruin you?”

“Yes, yes, fuck.”

“You think you can just leave me hanging like that, huh?” he slaps your ass, eliciting another moan from you and making you clench around his cock. Satoru falters for a moment. Before you can react, he stands up, your legs wrapped around his waist with nothing but his tip hitting inside you. “You’ve been so fucking mean – leaving me wanting you like that and ignoring me for days. Do you think you deserve this, huh?” Satoru kicks his door open at the same time he loosens his hold around your ass, making you slide down his length the next second.

“Oh, fuck,” you cry out just as Satoru begins to bounce you, your breasts following the motion of him fucking deep into you. “Fuck, Toru, that’s too—”

He’s so eager to fuck you, to make a mess out of you and have you losing your mind over his cock that he doesn’t even wait until you’re both on the bed. You no longer register when your back hits the pillow, or how your arms are frozen when he pins it above your head.

“You’re so beautiful,” he praises as he watches you clench around him. You’re so small and his eyes zero in on the way your abdomen bulges then flattens again every time he pounds into you, rolling his hips in a way that has you screaming and thighs quaking. “Beautiful, beautiful, perfect,” the moment his hands grip at your hips to pin you down, you know he’s not going to stop. And you don’t want him to.

Satoru latches his lips around your right breast, gently grazing his teeth over it while his other hand pinches and rolls the pebbled nipple between his fingers. He feels so good – and you’re crying already by the time you wrap your legs around him to pull him closer.

The room is filled with the smell of sex, the sound of skin slapping against skin combined with his breathy grunts and your moans like heaven on his ears. Satoru wants you to feel how much he loves you – how much he adores you – and the pace he sets is torturous. He snaps his hips against yours and presses down on the bulge of his cock through your belly, chuckling when you tighten more around him.

Your head lols to the side, tears falling down your pretty face because of how rough he’s being. But you don’t complain, not when he’s filling you in so deep and he’s kissing you everywhere, touching you everywhere, making you feel nothing else and nobody else but him.

“You’re amazing,” he rasps, watching the way your tight cunt sucks him in greedily as if you don’t want him to go anywhere else. “You take me in so well – you really want me to destroy you, huh?”

“Satoru, please,” you finally plead, “I-I’m cumming, I want you, I need you, oh,” you squeal when he finally lets your arms free. You look so precious, so innocent, and he doesn’t let up his pace. He plants his feet into the ground and his strokes begin to grow sloppy, your tight walls encouraging him to go faster, go deeper.

If possible, Satoru is only even more fuelled with the way you look so precious and innocent in that moment. His touch is gentle in comparison to the way he’s mercilessly plowing into you, using his thumb to wipe away the tears streaming down your cheeks. He knows he’s too big for you, that much is obvious from how much you’re already overstimulated just by his size, but your nails sink down on the flesh of his ass as a silent plead for more.

“Fuuuuck, I’m so close!”

“Yeah?” He fondled your clit, loving the sight of your small body creaming down on his cock. “Come for me, sweet girl. I want to feel you coming on my cock. Come on, tell me you’re mine. You’re made me for aren’t you?”

“Yes, Satoru, fuck,” you squeal, throwing your head back for a second when he keeps hitting your g-spot that has you seeing stars. Your toes curl and your hands fist the sheets behind you as he keeps impaling you with his cock right then and there.

You looked perfect; so perfect to him that he’s basically using you for his own pleasure at this moment. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, back arching and nipples brushing against his chest.

In that moment, you grow needy to have him even closer, tilting up to blindly search for his lips. Satoru complies; leaning down and leaving open mouthed breathy kisses that’s a mix of you moaning and crying around him, while he struggles to do so when he’s cursing at the feeling of you coating his cock with your juices. Satoru looks down at your tiny frame trapped in his arms, his voice husky as he groans once he saw both of your arousal absolutely leaking out of your wet cunt.

He’s so close but you’re already over the edge, scratching at his back at the overstimulation. You’re still so sensitive from when you came and Satoru doesn’t slow one down one bit. He loses his rhythm as his thrusts go sloppy, and Satoru buries his face in your neck as his cock twitches inside you until he bursts with his cum leaking out of your hole.

Satoru’s arms give out beneath you, his chest colliding with yours but not enough that he’s crushing you with his weight. You’re both breathing hard and panting, his dick softening inside you.

He pulls back a moment later to slide out his sensitive cock, wincing while he watches pools of cum gather in your pussy before it drips out. It isn’t until he’s witnessing the mess he’s made he realizes how you’ve been so good for him; taking him all the way in despite your quivering frame. It dawns on him now just how tiny you are when he pulls you close to him; you’re practically hanging off his chest with how small your body is.

He wonders how you’re able to fit all of him, but he’s grateful nevertheless. Satoru shows his appreciation by peppering kisses all over your face, his hand snaking down to caress your inner thighs.

“Hmm,” you moan into the kiss, jolting when his knuckles brush against your sensitive clit. “Satoru, no,” you whine while pushing his hand away, and he shushes you with another kiss. “’M too sensitive, please...”

“It’s fine, cupcake, it’s fine,” his nickname for you is back again, and you lean closer to him just as he begins to massage your sore legs. “You did so well for me, cupcake, you know that? You’re such a good girl for me,” too fucked out to have a comprehensive answer, you only nod in response, spreading your legs open again and ignoring the warm stickiness between your thighs as Satoru kneads your abused flesh. You feel him kiss your temple before he leaves to get a towel and cleans you up. Meanwhile, you’re so tired you’re about to doze out in his bed.

“Hey,” he soothes, bundling you up in his arms until you’re tucked in the safety of his body. So small, he coos inside his head, watching as you fold yourself even smaller while your eyes flutter. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you sigh into his shoulder, “I feel good. Thank you.”

Satoru doesn’t really know what you’re thanking him for. He feels like he’s the one who’s mostly indebted to you after everything you’ve done for him. You’ve already fallen asleep before he gets the chance to tell you how he feels, so Satoru only covers you both under his blanket, making sure there’s no more space between you out of fear you’ll distance yourself from him again.

But he doesn’t have to worry about that because you’re right next to him, and you’re never out of reach.

[randomwriting-misc]

Endangered | Chapter Eleven

Paul Lahote x OFC

Endangered Masterlist

Summary: Vampires and wolves are not the only supernatural creatures to walk the earth, and they are certainly not the only ones in Forks, Washington when Charlotte Annabeth Swan, “Anna”, moves in with her uncle after the unfortunate demise of her parents.

Some may misidentify her as a witch, but that’s fine, she would rather them think that anyway. But the Volturi know the truth, and they are closing in on her.

December

December 16th

“This is past the point of ridiculous,” Paul says as I drift off on his shoulder for the second time. We are sitting in the living room of his house, a movie playing lightly in the background, one that I am struggling to pay attention to as I am snuggled into him. It’s a comfort so natural I don’t even realize I am falling asleep until I am awakened by Paul.

“The nightmares were bad last night,” I say groggily. Paul’s face is hard, and I already know what’s coming before he says it.

“They aren’t YOUR nightmares, Anna,” he tenses, voice harsh.  

“They feel like it sometimes,” I admit.

I can’t pinpoint what was the straw that broke the camel’s back, but Paul is over Bella’s mood. Maybe it was when I was so sleep-deprived, that I sobbed into his shoulder after school, unable to focus on anything as exhaustion took over my body. Maybe it was when I fell into such a deep sleep, he couldn’t wake me up, which terrified him. Whatever it was, he wanted it to end.

“She’s being selfish,” he hisses.

“Don’t say that.”

“She’s been ignoring everyone for months, and you are bending over backward to make sure nothing happens to her.”

I still hadn’t told him about the Volturi, that it wasn’t just about protecting Bella and Charlie anymore. It was about avoiding being hunted down. I knew it would just add fuel to the fire. The boys were already working themselves to the bone, just the three of them.

I also hadn’t told him about everything my parents left me in their will. It was still overwhelming, and Charlie and I had yet to go through all of the paperwork, but the assets and money alone were insane to think about. I never really thought about how old my mother was, not after she started aging normally with my dad, but it was old enough to have a great amount of wealth apparently.

“I think Charlie sees how bad she’s getting,” I provide, hoping that will quell his anger.

“It’s been bad, Charlie has been suffering too.”

“I’ll talk to him, okay? Get her help,” I say, hoping to move on.

“Or a psychiatric hospital.”

I flick his arm, “Seriously Paul, don’t say that about her. She’s family.”

He tsks and leans back on the couch, this time staying silent as I drift off. Before I am lulled off completely, I feel Paul kiss my temple tenderly.

I smile softly, he can never keep up the asshole schtick for long.

----------------------------------------------------

December 21st

After months of practice, my magic felt easier now, more natural. I had pretty good control of it, even fire was less terrifying than before. I got to use my abilities around the pack and Elders more as I trusted more people to know. If they could keep the boy’s secret, I knew they could keep mine. Slowly, I started speaking to individuals about it, and most reacted with a simple nod and a smile. Harry jokingly named me the official fire starter for the meetings.

Kim had been the first one we clued into my abilities. The girl had fallen into our routine well. It was often that Emily, Kim, and I found ourselves together as our respective partners roamed the woods. Another hiker had gone missing, and we had a sinking feeling they wouldn’t be able to find them alive.

She handled it in stride, just like she had Jared’s shifting. She didn’t ask too many questions, which was a relief. Most of the tribe had the notion of “less is more,” when it came to me and my nature.

All except for Billy Black. He asked more questions than even Sam did in the beginning. Knowing my father and mother personally, he drilled into me one council meeting. It took a promise to come over to his house the next day to quell his curiosity for the time being.

That’s where I found myself now, staring at the front door of the Black house, hesitant to knock in case Jacob would be the one to answer it. Our friendship was tentative still.

Taking a deep breath, I knock. To my relief, Billy answers.

With a smile, I greet him, “Hey Billy.”

“Anna, come on in. I made coffee.”

“You know the way to my heart,” I joke, following him to the dining room table. Two cups already sat in the middle. I sit down, holding the mug for warmth.

“Is Jake…”

“Out with friends,” he says, and I nod. There’s a beat of awkward silence before he begins to speak again.

“So, Will and Aurelia… they left Forks for a reason?”

“I can only assume so, they didn’t really talk much about it in detail, at least not to me.”

“What was she?”

I flinch, “Faerie.” I say simply. Billy just nods.

“I guess that makes sense, there was always a feeling around her, something not quite human, at least in the beginning. I thought I was just paranoid, especially when I stopped feeling that sense so strongly.”

“She gave it up to be with him,” I say, “When she got pregnant, they told me they were worried about vampires, she might not register as a Fae creature as strongly, but I would. That’s why they moved.”

“Anna, I hate to ask this but, do you know how they died?”

“The official report is a break-in gone wrong. But… I was the one who found them,” I choke, tears welling in my eyes, this was a detail I don’t talk about, with anyone really, “It looked like a massacre. I don’t think whoever was responsible was human.”

Billy grasps my hand on the table for support as a stray tear falls down my face.

“My mom thought it would be safe here, I don’t think she knew about the Cullen’s”

“She didn’t, they only moved back a few years ago. Until Sam shifted, we weren’t entirely sure that the stories were just that, stories,” he solemnly says, “I wish I had known, to warn them.”

Something in me breaks as the weight of the situation falls onto my shoulders.

“There’s something else, about their murders, but you can’t tell anyone yet, not even Paul.”

Billy gives me a skeptical glance but nods.

“I think the people that killed them, the vampires, were a group called the Volturi. They are some weird leaders in their world, who are old enough to remember the Fae. My mom was trying to through them off our scent, but I think they caught her up to her. I’m worried they will eventually catch up to me. I wasn’t home that night, but unless they didn’t go through the house, they know another person lived there.”

“You know we won’t let anything happen to you.”

“That’s the thing, Billy… if it comes downs to them tracking me here. I don’t think you or anyone else should try to protect me. It’s not worth losing the lives of many just for mine. Especially the boys, I don’t think it’s fair of me to ask that.”

“Anna, you are a part of us now.”

“I know you all have welcomed me with open arms, but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if anyone died for me. I can’t. It’s not my right to expect that of you all.”

Billy’s lips are pressed in a tight line, and I can see he is struggling not to argue. In the end, he gives a curt nod.

“This seems like a conversation we should all be a part of, and we will have. But for now, we can table it. I would still like to talk about Will and Aurelia a bit, I have plenty of embarrassing stories about your father for you if you like to hear them.”

I wipe the tears away from my cheeks, happy for the break, “I would love that.”

-------------------------------------------------------

December 28th

I walk into the house after spending the day with Angela and Jessica. Over Christmas, they had gotten some money and gift cards and wanted to go shopping in Port Angeles before school started up again. Charlie’s car is gone, so I knew it was going to a “fend for yourself” night. Paul was with Sam and Jared, so I was alone for the first time in a few weeks. Throwing my keys onto the entryway table, I turn and jump to see Bella sitting on the couch.

She’s wrapped in a blanket, with deep bags under her eyes and sullen cheeks. She seems dim. The life and color sucked out of her. The tv is off, there’s no book in her hand, and she is just staring, eyes glazed over.

I take a breath to prepare myself and step into the living room, she doesn’t even look at me.

“Mind if I sit?”

She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t even acknowledge me. I sit next to her, and she does something that surprises me. She moves the blanket to cover me as well.

Tentatively, I wrap my arms around her in a hug, instead of pulling away, she leans into me, her head on my shoulder.

I rub circles on her back and brush her hair back. It’s not until I feel wetness on my shirt that I realize silent tears are falling from her eyes. A deep sigh releases from me, but I don’t say anything.

We stay like that for a while, Bella is desperate for connection, and I’m desperate to have her back. Exhaustion takes over her, and I gently move her, so her head is laying on my lap before I fall asleep too.

Bella does not wake up that night.

------------------------------------------------------------

December 31st

“Have I ever told you that I hate the cold,” I say wrapping a blanket closer around me as I sit on the edge of Sam’s truck bed. The beach is frigid, especially at night, and would normally be empty, but everyone is out preparing for New Year’s fireworks. We all brought pillows and blankets and chairs to watch them all together, turning the bed of a truck into somewhat of a pillow fort.

“Yes, my love, you’ve told me every day since the snow started to stick,” Paul says adjusting the beanie on my head, so it covers my ears. I press my cheek into his warm hand. He smiles at me, laughing at the number of layers I have on.

“There’s too much snow,” I mutter.

“It’s normal for this time of year.”

I roll my eyes, “I’m not doing any more outdoor activities until it’s at least 70 degrees. You can tell Emily.”

“So, I guess we will see you in May?” He lightly taps my nose and I pretend to try and bite him.

“May! Jesus, I miss when my winter was a cool 50 degrees,” I groan.

“You know there’s a simple solution here,” Paul smirks.

“Don’t say it.” I point a gloved finger at him. He throws his hands up like he’s innocent. I had convinced him to at least try and blend in, with a hoodie and jeans on instead of his usual cut-offs. I would be stealing the hoodie later tonight. The one I was wearing now was already too cold.

“What’s the point of having a supernaturally warm boyfriend if you don’t take advantage of it.” He jumps onto the bed of the truck and slips behind me. He removes the blanket around me, ignoring my cry. He put it around him to get closer to me, wrapping my back up, this time in his arms. I lean into him as he peppers kisses on the side of my face, arms squeezing me close.

“Because you get handsy,” I point out as fingertips lightly lift my hoodie and graze over my skin, leaving goosebumps.

“I do not.”

I give him a look.

“Okay maybe a little,” he gives, “I can’t help it, I feel like I’ve barely seen you lately. I’ll be happy when we catch the leech killing all of the hikers.”

“I will too, I miss you,” I say kissing the back of his hand.

“I miss you too.”

The moment is interrupted by Jared jumping over the side of the truck with a bang, followed by him is Kim, who he lifts up easily.  

“Okay love birds, break it up,” he says, and I roll my eyes.

“Big talk from the biggest sap here,” I joke.

“No, that title still goes to Paul, you should hear him, all night it’s “I miss Anna, I hope Anna is okay, Oh, I wonder what Anna is doing right now.” It’s incessant-“

Paul throws a pillow at him to shut him up, but I’m already laughing.

“Cute,” I whisper to him, and a blush creeps up onto his face.

“Ready for fireworks?” Sam says, walking up to the truck hand in hand with Emily.

“I’m ready for a space heater,” I groan. Emily laughs at me.

“My poor girl, you’ll acclimate eventually," she says tenderly.

“Honestly, I don’t want to, out of spite really. It is a crime for this to be normal weather. One day I’ll take you all to one of the places I grew up, you’ll see then.”

“Looking forward to it,” Paul says into my ear, his head leaning on my shoulder. Even through about four layers of clothing, he really is helping with the cold. His arms are still around my waist, hands resting on my hips.

We all settle into comfortable positions, Paul and I move so he is leaning against the back wall, with me still in between his legs. Jared and Kim have taken our place on the edge, sitting side by side. Emily and Sam sit in the chairs they brought, Sam playing with the ring on Emily’s left hand.

“Any New Year Resolutions?” I ask Paul, who thinks for a moment very seriously.

“Keep you safe, spend more time with you, figure out if there’s ever an end to all this,” he shrugs.

The confession weighs more than he lets on, you can feel longing from him. Tuning in a little more to the connection, you feel a bit of fear and a lot of weariness.

I turn to face him and place a hand on his face, “I’m sure there is an end. You deserve an end. To do whatever you want.”

“We don’t all get what we want though do we?”

I sigh, “Maybe not, but we can figure out what we want together. Maybe it’ll be easier that way.”

“Everything is easier with you.” He meets my gaze earnestly. I smile softly. It pulls on my heartstrings when he is so sincere like this.

“Well, there you go.”

“What about you?” He asks, and it takes me a moment to think.

“I hadn’t really thought too hard about it, but they are probably the same as yours.”

I don’t know how well he believes me, but before he can say anything, murmurs of the countdown to midnight begin, and his attention is pulled away from me.

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1!

As the fireworks begin, I pull Paul into a kiss, it’s a little desperate. I kiss him like it might be the last time, even though I know it won’t be. He matches my intensity as his hand holds the nape of my neck, the other wrapping around my waist to pull me onto his lap. My hands travel up to his neck and face, and I try my hardest to enjoy this feeling, committing it to memory.

The one true thought I have about the next year screaming in my head.

Stay alive.

Tagllist: @abaker74 @adaydreamaway08 @forkscult @eat-cake @sapphireplums @xcastawayherosx @smol-scream @sunsetevergreen @flacalatke

AN: If there is a strikethrough I was unable to tag :(

[imaginingmarvelandeverything]

The Foundations of Decay - Part 2

Request: Maybe can we see Jason return and be mad at his dad and trying to approach his mom but won't since he is mad at Bruce?

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x F!Reader

Warnings: Pretty comic accurate, beating with a crow bar, physical assault, accidental injury, torture descriptions, night terrors, Jason is very angry, Bruce is not helpful, reader is constantly on the verge of a breakdown, so, so, so much angst

Word Count: 8404

A/N: As you can see from the word count, I got carried away again. I wrote most of this during my exams so I gave reader all my stress and subsequently she spends pretty much the whole time on the verge of a mental breakdown. This also has a lot of references to The Killing Moon parts 1 and 2 in it, just as a warning if you haven’t read those yet. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the angst!

Ko-Fi

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Headcanon Requests Open!

Part 1

Y/N groaned as Bruce swiped her legs out from under her and her shoulder hit the sparring mat, yet again.

“You’re distracted.” He stated.

“No, I’m not.” She retorted through gritted teeth, ignoring his outstretched hand and pushing herself back to her feet without his help. She knew he was right, her mind felt like it was a million miles away, but she was not about to let him know that. She was angry at herself more than anything, which was why she had suggested sparring in the first place in an effort to try and work it out of her system before he noticed.

She swung at his head, but he ducked under her easily and connected his elbow to her back, clearly not using all his strength because she only stumbled forward a step. She spun around and managed to land a kick in the back of his knee, causing him to drop to one knee. But he caught her foot when she tried to kick him again, making her twist away from him to stay standing. She could tell he was barely trying, letting her wear herself out before he made a decisive move. And it only took two more moves for him to do so.

She swung at his head again, but instead of ducking under it this time, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back against his chest. He crossed her arms across her chest, pinning them with his hands on her wrists. Her attempts to kick him were futile as he locked her into him to stop her struggling.

He hooked his chin over her shoulder. “Anger’s a good motivator, if you know how to use it. But you’re not angry at me, so it’s only working against you here. Talk to me, what’s wrong?”

She went limp in his grip and he lowered them both to the floor, letting go of her wrists in the process and wrapping his arms around her waist instead. He kept his chin on her shoulder as she leaned back into him and rested her hands over his.

“I-I just-I feel like I’m losing my mind.” She confessed in a whisper, not missing the way he tensed behind her.

“Why?” He tried to keep his voice calm.

“I keep seeing him everywhere.” She did not need to say his name. Jason. He knew who she meant. It had been almost two years since she had stood on that rooftop and watched him die in her arms. “Every time we leave the house I catch glimpses of him, but when I try to get a closer look, he’s gone.”

He sighed. “Have you mentioned this to Dr Kline?”

Dr Kline, her therapist. The one she had been seeing for well over a decade now, ever since the Joker had grabbed her. “She said it was normal, a delayed grieving response. That it also doesn’t help that we’re nearing the anniversary.”

“How long has this been happening?”

“A few weeks.” She traced patterns on the back of his hand with her fingers.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He sounded hurt.

She sighed. “I didn’t want to worry you. Dr Kline said it would probably stop once we were past the anniversary anyway.”

He nodded, pressing a kiss against the scar on her shoulder. “I don’t want you to worry about telling me things, okay?”

“Okay.” She agreed. “I’m going to go to his grave tomorrow.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

She shook her head. “No, I need to go alone. But I’ll call you if I need anything, I promise.”

***

Y/N shut the mustang’s door softly, the red paint gleaming in the mid-morning sunlight. She locked the doors and pressed the keys into her palm, grounding herself as she took a deep breath and started walking. Gotham Cemetery looked better in the sunlight than it did in the city’s usual rain. She was not the only person taking advantage of the weather to visit a loved one. People were milling about among the graves, fresh flowers and other tokens of affection in their hands. But Y/N’s hands were empty. She knew Jason would not appreciate his gave being covered in meaningless things, no, he was never that kind of person.

The Wayne plot was near the back of the cemetery, up in the trees with the rest of Gotham’s oldest families. It was morbid to think about, that one day her and Bruce, Grace and Dick and any family they might have, would end up there.

Jason was next to Thomas and Martha, Bruce had insisted. She crouched down in front of Thomas’ grave first, clearing the debris away that had accumulated since she had last visited. Then she did the same for Martha’s before finally stopping in front of Jason’s. She could not believe it had almost been two years. Two years since she got the message meant for Bruce. Two years since she pleaded with the Joker for his life. Two years since she watched him die in her arms.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, wiping at the tears that slipped down her cheeks.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

The voice made her jump and she shot to her feet, turning around to face her visitor and automatically slipping into the fighting stance Bruce had shown her. She looked at the man standing a few steps away from her and was convinced that she had finally cracked. He was much taller, there was a white streak through the front of his hair, and a long scar down his left cheek, but it was uncannily him.

“Jason?” His name escaped her before she could stop it.

“Hi, mom.” He smiled shyly, taking a step towards her.

She took an automatic one back, her hands fumbling to pull her phone out of her pocket before she hit her emergency contact button. “I’ve finally lost it.” She whispered, her eyes never leaving him as her phone started ringing.

“No, it’s me. I’m right here.” He took another step forward, and she took another step back.

“No, I watched you die. I-I buried you.” She choked out, trying to force air into her lungs.

“Y/N?” Bruce’s voice came from her phone.

She took another step back, not paying attention to where she was and the back of her legs collided with Jason’s headstone. Her phone fell from her hand and hit the floor, but she did not. Jason moved forward and caught her by her forearms, keeping her standing. His touch on her arms seemed to make everything compute in her brain and ground her in reality, convincing her that this was really happening.

“You’re really here?” She was vaguely aware of Bruce’s panicked voice calling out from her phone as Jason reached down and grabbed it off the floor once he was sure she was steady on her feet. But instead of saying anything, he just hung up and dropped it back into the grass. She looked up at him with confusion before she had another revelation. “I wasn’t losing my mind! I’ve been seeing you for weeks.”

“I know. I’m sorry, I just had to see you.” He told her, even though he was older, all she could see was the little boy, her boy.

“Why- Why didn’t you come home? Or approach me?” She could not figure out why he would practically stalk her for weeks but never try to make contact.

“Because you were never alone, you were always with him.” The venom in Jason’s voice surprised her.

She studied him and noticed something was off, but she could not quite put her finger on it. “I don’t understand.”

“Why would I want to see him after what he did?” Jason scoffed.

“It wasn’t his fault.” Y/N said automatically.

“Not my death, mom. Although I do blame him for not being there for you, for letting you come alone. The Joker could have killed you too.” He looked pained at that thought. “No, I blame him for letting the Joker live.”

Her confusion grew. “Jason, you know his code-”

“That means he doesn’t avenge the people he loves?” His voice got louder and he took a breath. “And not even just because of me. The Joker hurt you too.” He noticed her confusion and explained. “You know Bruce keeps files on us all?”

She shook her head, she had no idea what he was talking about.

“Well, he does, and I found them one day. I know what the Joker did to you, when he grabbed you when Grace was a baby. What he let him do to you.”

“It wasn’t his fault.” She repeated as she screwed her eyes shut, trying to block out the memories of the pain and fear.

“That’s not what he wrote in the file.” Jason told her, his voice suddenly softer. “I wish you hadn’t called him. We both know he’ll already be on his way here.”

“Come home with me.” Y/N opened her eyes to see the look of pain on his face. “Jason, come home. You can see Grace and Dick.”

“I can’t, not until I do what he couldn’t.” He stepped forward and hugged her.

She wrapped her arms around him, conscious of how much he had changed.

“The suit will be gone when you get home.” He said into her ear before he pulled away and pressed a something plastic and square into her palm. “Don’t follow me, I’ll be in touch.”

He walked away and her legs gave out. Her brain was still trying to compute everything that had just happened as she looked down at her hands. He had given her a burner phone. It hit her then, Jason was alive. He was alive. And he hated Bruce for not killing the Joker.

“Y/N!”

She was vaguely aware of Bruce’s voice calling out for her, but her thoughts continued racing.

He appeared at the crest of the kill and made a beeline to her once he caught sight of her. His eyes scanned the area for any immediate threats before he dropped to his knees in the grass in front of her. “What happened?” He cupped her face in his hands before immediately checking her over for injuries. He found none and noticed her phone lying in the grass. He grabbed it before turning back to her, noticing the way she was blankly staring at a point over his shoulder. “Y/N?”

She shifted her gaze and looked at him. “Jason was here.” Saying it out loud seemed to make it even more real.

“Y/N,” Bruce’s voice was soft. “Jason’s dead.”

“No, he’s alive. I don’t know how, but he was right here. He was taller. There was a white streak in his hair and he had a scar on his cheek, right where he did that night.” She knew how she probably sounded. “I’m not crazy, he was right here.”

“I didn’t say you were crazy, but you said it yourself yesterday, you’ve been seeing him everywhere.” Bruce shifted forward and cupped her jaw again with one of his hands.

“Because he’s been following us, trying to get me alone so we could talk.” A few tears slipped down her cheeks and he brushed them away with his thumb. “He gave me this.” She showed him the phone, the only tangible proof she currently had. “He said-” She stopped, words clicking into place in her mind, as her eyes got wide.

“What? Y/N, what did he say?” He was looking at her with worry written all over his face, clearly believing she had finally lost it.

“’The suit will be gone when you get home.’ Bruce, he’s going to the station.” She shot to her feet and was halfway down the path before Bruce realised what she had said.

People were staring as she ran past, but she paid them no mind. Even though she knew there would probably be a headline the following day about the Waynes sprinting through the cemetery.

She made it back to the mustang and was in the process of opening the driver’s side door when Bruce caught up with her. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her back against him, his other hand covering her hand that was holding her keys. “Let me drive.”

She was still shaking, so she relented and gave him the keys. They both climbed in, and he shot off down the road. Neither of them said anything, but she was aware of the glances he kept throwing her.

He had barely pulled the car to a stop in the garage before she was out of the door and running for the elevator. She pressed the button impatiently as he joined her. They climbed in as soon as the door opened and he hit the button for the station. She knew he was just humouring her, that he did not think anything was actually going to be missing when they got there.

When the doors opened, they both went in two different directions. She ran over to her work bench in the far corner as he made his way to his desk. She knew before she got there Jason’s suit was gone because the dust sheet was lying on the floor. She rested her hands on the table where all the pieces had been and she wished she had actually mended the suit, like she had always meant to but never got around to. She took a few steps backwards before turning on her heels and walking over to Bruce.

He was pulling up the stations security camera feed and rewinding through it. She knew he was holding his breath as a hooded figure walked in through the tunnel door, setting off none of the alarms in the process. The figure checked several of Y/N’s workbenches before finding the one he was looking for. He dropped the dust sheet onto the floor and crammed all of the suit’s pieces into a bag. He seemed to look around for something. The mask Y/N realised; no one had ever found it. He seemed to realise it was not there and turned to walk out. But when he reached the final camera before the tunnel door, he pulled his hood back and smiled up at the camera.

Bruce hit pause on the video, staring at the picture with wide, disbelieving eyes. “That’s not possible.”

She watched him and remembered what Jason had said about the files. She took a step back from him before speaking, not because she was scared of how he would react, but because she knew if he touched her, her resolve would crumble. “He said you keep files on us all.”

“What?” He dragged his eyes away from the screen towards her, the gap she had created not escaping his notice.

“He said you had files on us all.” The look of guilt on his face told her all she needed to know but she needed to hear him say it. “I knew you had one on Dick, because of his parents. But not on the rest of us.”

“Y/N, I-”

“The journals are one thing, but actual files.” She took another step back from him as he turned fully towards her. “He found them, Bruce. And read them, because he knew-” She stopped, biting her lip in an attempt to rein in some control over all the emotions raging in her chest that were threatening to completely overwhelm her.

“What did he know?” Bruce was still looking at her guiltily, the distance she had created between them weighing on his heart.

“He knew what the Joker did to me.” She covered her face with her hands, trying not to remember. “He’s mad at you. That’s why he didn’t approach until I was alone.”

“He has every right to be mad at me.”

The tone of his voice broke her heart and she suddenly realised what had been different about Jason. He had reminded her of Bruce. Bruce before Gotham Square Garden, before he realised he was not helping anyone as vengeance. When he was still full of rage at everything.

“He’s not mad at you because he died.” She moved her hands away from her face and met his confused eyes. “He’s mad at you because you didn’t kill the Joker for killing him. And-and for hurting me. He blames you.”

“So, he should. You should as well, it was all my fault.”

“No it wasn’t!” She buried her fingers in her hair. She was teetering on the edge of panic, she could feel it. “I can’t do this right now.” She walked straight to the elevator and he made no move to stop her.

Alfred was sat at the table in the main room going through some documents. He looked up as she walked in. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She caught the look he sent her. “I-I just need some time on my own. Can you tell him that if he comes back up?”

Alfred nodded and did not press her further.

She walked upstairs into their bedroom and ditched her coat and shoes before climbing into bed. All the emotions seemed to catch up to her at once, she clutched a pillow to her chest and started sobbing. She eventually exhausted herself crying and dropped off into a restless sleep.

***

Bruce replayed the security footage too many times. Everything Y/N had said to him was running through his mind. She needed him, and he had managed to fuck it up again. He knew he should never have kept the files from her. They had only been his way of keeping everything in order in case something happened to one of them. He never imagined anyone else would find and read them.

But Y/N was not his only concern. Not only was Jason was somehow alive, he was completely hellbent on killing the Joker. He was tempted to not try and stop Jason. Things would be easier with the Joker completely out of play, and he deserved to pay for what he had done to Jason and Y/N. But he would not let one of his kids be the one to do it and he knew Y/N would never forgive him if he did not try and intervene.

He sighed and stood from the desk chair, he believed he had given Y/N long enough to calm down. They needed to have a proper conversation about everything that had happened. He walked over to his shelves and pulled out three boxes. But the one he was looking for was behind them, hidden away at the back. He pulled it out and opened the lid, checking that all the files were still there. They were, so he picked the box up and made his way to the elevator.

Alfred was sat at the table in the main room, working through some documents. He looked at Bruce over the top of his glasses as he put the box down on the table. “What did you do?” He sighed as Bruce shot him a confused look. “I’ve not seen Y/N like that for a very long time. She asked me to tell you that she needs some time alone. Don’t worry, she hasn’t left, she’s upstairs.” He added as Bruce’s eyes got wide.

“Where’s Grace?” Bruce asked, unwilling for her to overhear what he was about to tell Alfred, not yet at least.

“She’s in the living room, catching up on her homework while watching TV.”

Bruce glanced in the direction, knowing she would not hear them from here if they kept their voices down. “Jason’s alive.” He watched the way Alfred’s mouth dropped open and his eyes got wide.

“That’s-”

“Not possible, I know. But he approached Y/N in the cemetery and broke into the station earlier to take his suit back.” Bruce swallowed thickly. “He’s mad at me, for not killing the Joker-”

Y/N screamed.

Bruce’s heart dropped and he glanced at Alfred. “Keep Grace down here.”

He was halfway up the stairs before Alfred was even out of his seat. She screamed again as he hit the landing and sheer terror started clawing up his throat. He threw their bedroom door open, prepared to fight whatever was causing her to make those sounds. “Y/N?”

There was no one else in the room, but she screamed again as he tried to comprehend what was happening. Then it hit him. It had been so long since she last had a night terror that it never even crossed his mind. He was at the side of the bed in an instant, taking in the way her eyes were screwed shut and she was writhing like she was in agony. He steeled himself for what was about to happen and grabbed her arm.

She sat bolt upright and screamed again. She attempted to hit him, but he was ready. He climbed on the bed behind her and pulled her back against his chest. He locked his hands around her wrists, pinning them across her chest as she fought against him, just as he had done the day before when they were sparring.

“Y/N, you’re okay. You’re safe. Y/N, you’re home. You’re safe.” He kept repeating it over and over again until she stopped struggling against him. Sobs broke free from her chest and he moved her so she was sat across his lap. Her head tucked under his chin as she grabbed at his arm that was around her, trying to ground herself. He rocked them back and forth as he tried to bring his own heart rate back to normal.

“I’m sorry.” She choked out.

“You don’t have anything to apologise for. It makes sense that everything that happened earlier would trigger one.” He tightened his grip on her.

“It was so real. The pain, his voice.” Her own voice cracked.

His heart ached, he wished he could go back to that night and stay in, let the city deal without Batman for one night, so she would have been safe. “He can’t touch you. He’s locked up in Arkham.”

“But he’s going to be able to get to Jason.” She whispered, her fingers digging into his arm.

“No, I won’t let that happen.” He assured her as he remembered Grace and Alfred downstairs. He sighed. “I need to go and sort something downstairs, but I’ll be right back. Okay?”

She nodded and moved out of his grip, standing on shaky legs. He kept a grip on her arm to stabilise her and stood as well. He pressed a kiss to her temple and let go of her as she walked into the bathroom. He watched her with worried eyes until the door shut and he walked out of the room.

Alfred stood from the sofa as Bruce walked into the living room, but Bruce’s focus was on Grace.

“Mom?” She asked, her blue-grey eyes wide with fear.

“She’s fine.” He sat down on the coffee table across from her as Alfred sat back down as well. He paused before continuing, trying to find the right words to say. “Grace, when you were a baby, something bad happened to your mom. I won’t go into details, it’s her story to tell, not mine. But for a long time after, she used to wake up screaming. Something happened this morning that dragged it all back up. But she’s okay. She just might be a little detached for a little while.”

Grace nodded, taking in everything he had just told her. Bruce did not miss the look Alfred sent him, but he knew it was not the time to come clean about everything. He would not make the decision to tell Grace everything without Y/N.

***

Bruce left at dusk. Y/N had tried to activate the tracker in Jason’s suit, but either it had been damaged when the Joker had beat him, or he knew enough about the tech to disable it himself. She wanted to go with him, but Bruce would not hear it. She knew she had terrified him today, worse than she had in years. He told her what he had told Grace when he reappeared in the bedroom carrying the box of files for her to read. He had promised he would back her with whichever version of the story she chose to tell Grace. She knew they were cutting it close. Grace was thirteen now, and she was not going to be oblivious about her parents’ involvement in vigilantism forever.

But Y/N had already lost one of her kids to this life, and while Dick might be alive and well in Bludhaven, he was still following in Bruce’s footsteps, even if he was Nightwing now and not Robin. The promise she made Jason still stood; she would not let Grace follow them.

“Mom?”

It seemed Y/N’s thoughts had summoned her, because Grace gently pushed open Jason’s door the rest of the way and looked to where Y/N was sitting on his bed.

“Hey, sweetheart. Everything okay?” Y/N tried to put a smile on her face, but it was weaker than she intended.

Grace walked in almost nervously, sitting on the bed next to Y/N. “Dad told me some things earlier.”

“I know. He told me.” Y/N took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was about to be said. “When you were about a year old, me, you and Dick were home alone. Your dad and Alfred had gone out for the evening, I can’t even remember where they went. But I had put you and Dick to bed and was sat in the living room reading when I heard footsteps in the main room. I went to investigate, and the Joker and four other men were there. He said he wanted to talk to me but then Dick came downstairs. The men were armed, and I didn’t know what else to do. So, I told him I would do whatever he wanted, as long as he left you and Dick alone. He agreed, so I told Dick to go back upstairs, and he locked himself in the nursery with you.

“I asked him what he wanted to talk to me about, but he didn’t want your dad or Alfred coming back while he was still here. One of his men grabbed me and I had to go with him, because if I hadn’t, he would have done something to you and your brother. They took me to a building on the outskirts of town. He wanted my help. He knew I was an engineer and he wanted me to help him disable Batman’s tech. But I told him I had no idea, that I had only met Batman once and didn’t exactly have time to check out his tech. But he didn’t like that answer. So, he-” She cut herself off and bit her lip to stop her tears falling.

“He hurt you.” Grace finished for her. “Like he hurt Jason.”

Y/N reached out and took Grace’s hand. “Yes, not exactly the same way he hurt Jason, but he hurt me. Batman found me and he made sure I came home. But for a long time after, I would dream that I was back there, with him. The only way I wouldn’t was sleeping in the nursery. But your dad helped me, even sleeping on your nursery floor just so I didn’t have to be alone. Someone brought up what happened this morning and it all came back to me. And then me and your dad had a disagreement and it made everything worse. I wasn’t planning on falling asleep, but it happened, and the dreams came back.”

“But you’re okay now?”

“Yes, I’m okay now.” Y/N smiled. “And it’s almost your bedtime.”

Grace groaned. “Do I have to?”

“You’ve got school tomorrow. Go on, off you go.” Y/N said, her smile getting wider.

“Fine, good night.” Grace said as Y/N kissed her forehead.

“Good night.” Y/N watched Grace skip out of the room and sighed. She really needed to have a conversation with Bruce about telling Grace about Batman.

It was not long after Grace had departed that Alfred stuck his head into the room. “How are you?” He asked as he walked in and took the spot next to her on the bed that Grace had vacated.

“He asked you to keep an eye on me?”

“He did. But I would have anyway.” Alfred said, looking around Jason’s room. They had not changed it since the night he died, much like Thomas and Martha’s room, it was still waiting for its occupant to return.

“How much did he tell you?” Y/N asked, keeping her eyes on the window.

“Enough.”

“Why do these things keep happening to us?” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and burying her head in her hands.

Alfred sighed. “You and Bruce have gone through more than two people ever should. But you should remember that you have come through it all.” He rested a hand on her shoulder. “Come downstairs. You haven’t eaten all day.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Come downstairs.” Alfred’s tone left no room for argument as he stood and walked out.

Y/N wiped a hand over her face before getting up to follow him. She twisted her phone in her hands as she made her way to the kitchen, debating about whether or not she should call and tell Dick the news. She sighed, knowing he would most likely already be out on his own patrols. She walked through the kitchen door to find Alfred already halfway through making her a grilled cheese sandwich. She sat at the kitchen table and turned on the TV that now sat on the set of drawers in the corner. They had brought it for Grace because she had taken up baking as a hobby and liked following baking shows while baking herself.

She thanked Alfred as he set the sandwich down in front of her and took a bite as he started making a pot of tea. He joined her at the table when he was finished and fixed them both a cup. They sat in silence, only half paying attention to the news playing in the background.

Until the breaking news infographic flashed across the screen.

The TV had their rapt attention as the news reporter came up on screen.

“This just in, a masked man has broken in to Arkham State Mental Hospital. It is believed this as yet unidentified man has freed the serial killer whose real identity has still yet to be discovered, but is known as the Joker.”

They showed the security camera footage of the masked man dragging the Joker out of one of Arkham’s side doors. There was no denying it was Jason. He had poorly patched up his suit and had ripped the insignias off, but Y/N would know her own work anywhere. Instead of a mask like the one he used to wear, he was wearing a kind of red ski mask.

Y/N barely managed to set her teacup down without scolding herself because her hands were shaking so badly. She pushed herself to her feet, meeting Alfred’s worried gaze. “I just need to talk to Bruce, I won’t do anything else, I promise.” She explained.

“I will be coming to check on you.” He warned her.

She nodded before retreating out of the room and practically sprinting for the elevator. Seeing the patched-up suit had reminded her about the secondary tracker she had installed after he had once lost the primary one halfway through a patrol and Bruce could not find him.

The elevator doors opened, and she went straight for the desk, bringing up the tracker programme. She typed in what she needed, and felt her heart jump as a red blip appeared on the map of Gotham. Jason was moving, and fast.

She moved over to her workbenches and pulled a box out from underneath the one by the far wall. Bruce was not the only one keeping secrets in the station.

She pulled out the pieces of body armour and stripped out of her clothes. She pulled the armour on. It was nothing like the suits she had made for the others. It was light weight protection, bullet and knife proof, but would not do much against heavy blows. It was also thin enough for her to hide it underneath the tactical trousers and shirt she pulled on over the top. She laced up her boots, pulled on a coat, similar to the one Bruce used to own, and filled the pockets with the gadgets she might need. She grabbed a prototype box and threw it into her backpack. She pulled out a handheld GPS and connected it to the computer, downloading Jason’s live location. She wiped the location off the screen and left her clothes and phone on the desk. She scribbled a quick note for Alfred.

I’m sorry, but I know what I’m doing.

She pulled out a spare pair of the contact lenses and managed to get them into her eyes after a couple of attempts. She walked over to Bruce’s old motorbike and attached the GPS to the handlebars before pulling on the helmet and climbing on. She kicked up the stand and kick started the engine as she pressed the button for the tunnel door and shot out into the night.

***

Y/N tracked Jason to an abandoned, half-built tower, much like the one the bat-signal was built on. She pulled the bike to a stop and climbed off, wheeling it into a shadowed passage near a skip where no one would be able to see it. She pulled her helmet off and left it on the seat. She looked up at the tower and took a deep breath before walking towards the steps.

It was dark and she really wished she had a torch, but she knew that would just give her away to any unsavoury characters that might be lurking. She kept her guard up as she ascended through the building’s levels, keeping one hand in her coat pocket at all times. When she reached the second floor, she could hear voices above. Jason was screaming something she could not make out, and the Joker was laughing manically at him. The voices were broken up by hard thumps and grunts of pain. She threw caution into the wind and ran up the last flight of stairs.

The light of the city through the glassless windows was the only thing illuminating the two figures. The Joker was on his knees on the floor, Jason stood above him with a crowbar in his hand.

He was badly beaten; we believe with a crowbar.

The words snapped through Y/N’s mind, temporarily stealing the air from her lungs. But she forced herself to breath as Jason raised the crowbar again.

“Jason!”

The crowbar clattered to the floor in shock as he turned to look at her. “You shouldn’t be here.”

She came to a stop several steps away from him, trying to supress the memories that threatened to overwhelm her at the sight of the Joker. “Jason, don’t do this.”

“Why, hello, princess. Didn’t expect you to be my saviour.” The Joker cackled.

“You don’t get to speak to her.” Jason’s fist connected to the Joker’s face, blood spraying from his nose. “How did you find me? I disabled the tracker.”

“You disabled the primary one, you forgot about the secondary one I installed that night we couldn’t find you.” She told him.

“Is he here?”

“No. He doesn’t know I’m here either. Although Alfred will probably have noticed I’m missing by now and will have told him. He can’t track me tonight. He has no way to find where I am, I made sure.” She confessed, watching as Jason’s eyes widened at how she was willing to let Bruce lose his mind trying to find her, just to stop him from doing this.

“What did he say, when you told him what I was planning to do?” He reached down and picked the crowbar back up.

“He said you have every right to blame him for what happened to both of us. But he’s wrong, Jason, it’s not his fault.”

The Joker laughed again, and Jason went to hit him. Y/N stepped between them at the last minute, the crowbar connecting with her forearm with a sickening crack. It hurt like hell, and she knew that if she was not wearing the armour, he would have broken her arm.

Jason seemed to realise that as well because he stumbled back, the crowbar slipping through his fingers as a look of horror crossed his face. “Mom-”

“I’m fine.” She pulled up her sleeve to show him the plating along her arms. “Jason, I’m fine.”

“This has been an interesting turn of events.” The Joker said behind her.

Jason went to lunge forward again but she caught his shoulders. “Jason, this isn’t you. You’re not a killer.”

“He deserves to pay!”

“He does! But not at your hand! I know you’re angry, and you have every right to be, but please, for me, don’t do this.” She pleaded.

His shoulders dropped, his resolve waning.

“I knew you enjoyed our time together, princess.” The Joker was taunting them both.

Y/N pulled the gun out of her pocket, turned and fired a round into the Joker before Jason had even comprehended what the Joker had said. He stared at her with his mouth open as the Joker crumpled to the floor. “Mom?”

“They’re sedatives. I built it for Bruce, but his aversion to guns apparently extends to the non-killing kind.” She explained, choosing not to mention the live rounds she had slipped into her pocket in case she changed her mind.

“I’m sorry.” His voice cracked and suddenly Y/N was back on that roof, holding him as he bled out in her arms.

She pulled him into her, running her fingers through his messy hair as he buried his face into her shoulder. “You don’t have to apologise. Jason, come home.”

“I can’t.” He pulled back; heart break written all over his face. “Mom, I can’t. Have you told Dick and Grace?”

“Not yet.”

“Don’t. It’s better that they don’t know.” He whispered before turning back to the Joker. “This isn’t finished. Mom, I will finish this. But what happens tonight?”

“I’ll sort it.” She noticed the look he sent her and slipped the small, silver remote out of her pocket and held it for him to see. “I won’t be doing it alone.”

“If you ever need me, the phone I gave you only has one number in it.” He told her.

“I know. Jason, the door is always open if you change your mind.” She said, her heart breaking at the thought of him walking away for good. “This might help with whatever you have planned.” She pulled the prototype box out of her bag and handed it to him. “The mask you were wearing tonight didn’t look very bulletproof.”

He pulled the helmet out of the box and studied it before throwing his arms around her again. “Thank you.”

“Look after yourself.”

“I should be saying that to you.” He pulled back and shot her a smile. “I’ll see you soon.”

She nodded and watched him leave. He took part of her heart with him, the part that she thought had died two years prior.

When he was down the stairs and out of sight, she practically flung herself away from the Joker, her fingers hitting the panic button as her legs gave out and she collapsed to the floor. The tears came again, and she fought with everything she had against the voice in her head telling her to load the gun with the live rounds and kill the Joker then and there. She dropped the gun to the floor, kicking it out of her reach as she buried her face in her knees.

She had no idea how long she spent on the floor before she heard the tell-tale growl of the charger’s dual engines in the alley below. It cut out, the silence deafening before she heard the heavy thud of boots against the steps. She could not bring herself to lift her face from her knees, but she heard Bruce’s footsteps stop a few steps away from her and knew he was taking in the scene in front of him. The gun and the Joker’s still form in particular.

“Y/N?” The suit creaked as he dropped to his knees in front of her. “Y/N, are you hurt?”

The question made her aware of the throbbing in her arm where Jason had accidently hit her with the crowbar, but she still shook her head into her knees. She heard him shuffling around and then felt his bare hands over hers.

“Honey, can you look at me?” His voice was soft, clearly scared of setting her off like he had earlier.

She forced herself to unwind her arms and lift her head from her knees. He was knelt in front of her, his gloves and cowl on the floor next to him. The black smudged around his eyes just highlighted the worry in his blue irises.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m okay.”

He let out the breath he had been holding. “Alfred called me, said you went down to the station to call me but when he went to check on you, you were gone. And you left everything there that we could have used to track you.”

“I had to come alone; he wouldn’t have listened if I didn’t.” She explained.

“Looks like he didn’t anyway.” Bruce sighed, glancing behind them.

“The gun’s mine.” She whispered and his head snapped back to look at her, his eyes widening again. “It was a sedative, he’s not dead. But I brought these.” She pulled the live rounds out of her pocket and showed him. “I wanted to do it. Even as I stopped Jason, I wanted to do it.”

He took the bullets from her, throwing them behind him. They listened as the metal clinked against the concrete before they rolled to a stop. She was absentmindedly rubbing at the ache in her forearm and he noticed. His fingers closed around her wrist and she let him take it from her. He slipped her sleeve back, his eyebrows pinching together when he laid eyes on the armour plating covering her arm.

“You think I built all that stuff for you, but never built anything for myself.” She sent him a half-smile, glad when he returned it.

His fingers made quick work of the clasps; they were no different from the ones on his suit. He pulled the plating away and set it on the floor before inspecting the bruise that had already began to form.

“He didn’t mean to.” She caught his eyes as he looked up at her again. “The crowbar, I stepped in between them.”

He nodded, not saying anything as he picked up the plate and secured it back around her arm.

“He said he plans to finish it.” She glanced over at where the Joker was still lying.

“We’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t.” Bruce told her. “How did you get here?”

“The bike.”

“Where is it?”

“Behind the skip in the alley.”

He stood up offering his hand to her and pulling her up when she took it. He pressed the charger’s keys into her palm. “Take the car home. I’ll sort this out and then meet you there.”

“I can take the bike.” She protested.

“Please, do this for me. You don’t know who is out on the streets. I’ll feel better if I know you’re safe.”

She nodded. “Okay.” She reached down and picked up her gun, not missing the emotion that flashed through his eyes as she pocketed it again.

“Take your helmet. I won’t need it.” He pressed his lips against her forehead, keeping her against him a moment longer than he normally would, before he reached down and grabbed the cowl off the floor.

She watched him pull it on before she started walking away, listening as he pulled out his phone and called Gordon.

***

The pain radiating from Y/N’s arm was agonising. She knew she should go upstairs and let Alfred have a look at it, or at least ice it. But she could not uncurl her body from where she was perched in Bruce’s desk chair. The footage from her contact lenses was playing on a loop on the screens and she had no energy to stop it. Her head nodded forward but she snapped it back up. She would not fall asleep. Not right at this moment. She knew if she did, she would be back there. Hanging by her wrists from the ceiling in that barren room. Trying not to scream as the Joker touched the picana against all of her bare skin he could reach while telling his goon which voltage to set it at. Feeling the ice-cold water rush over her skin as they increased the voltage further until she screamed Bruce’s name.

She was so lost in her own mind that his hands on her shoulders made her jump up and throw an elbow at his head. Bruce caught her arm, letting go immediately when she cried out in pain and cradled her arm against her chest.

“You need to go and see Alfred about that.” He said with a sigh.

“I know.” She said, her voice thick as she watched him strip the suit off.

He pulled her contact lenses off the upload plate and replaced them with his own, hitting the upload button on the computer. He turned back to her and offered her his hand. She took it, letting him pull her up before he led her towards the elevator. She curled into him once they were inside, trying to use his warmth to banish the images that would not stop running through her mind. He pressed his lips against her temple as the doors opened. He led her into the kitchen and assured her he would be right back as he went to wake Alfred. She sat down and watched him go, the pain being the only thing grounding her in the present.

When they walked back in, Alfred sent her an exasperated look but did not comment on the way she had lied to him and ran away. “Let me have a look.”

She let him take her arm and roll up her sleeve. He sighed as he looked at the forming bruise. He poked and podded at her arm, watching her reactions carefully. He turned to Bruce. “Get her some ice and painkillers.” He did as he was asked as Alfred turned his attention back to Y/N. “It’s not broken. But it’s going to be sore for a while.”

She nodded as Bruce walked back over and handed her an ice pack wrapped in a tea towel before grabbing her a glass of water and a pack of paracetamol. She took the painkillers and set the glass on the table.

“Right, if I’m not needed anymore, I’m going back to bed.” Alfred told them.

“Thank you.” Y/N said, and he shot her a small smile before walking out.

“C’mon, we should go to bed too.” Bruce said, but his eyebrows scrunched together when she did not move and avoided his eyes. “Y/N?”

“If I go to sleep, I’ll be back there.” She whispered.

“If I could go back to that night, I wouldn’t leave you alone. I would make sure he never laid a finger on you, even if that meant killing him.” He confessed, crouching down in front of her and resting his hands on her knees. “But I can’t go back. I can’t change what he did to you, or Jason. But I will be there for you, no matter what. And, honey, you need to sleep.”

“He asked me not to tell Dick and Grace, said it was better if they didn’t know.” She was stalling and she knew he could see right through her.

“He’s right, but we can have this conversation when we wake up tomorrow.”

“Bruce-”

“I’ll be right there with you.” He assured her. “If you don’t want to sleep in the bedroom, we can sleep somewhere else?”

She moved her hands to his face and leaned forward until her forehead was resting against his. “I don’t think that will make a difference.”

He sighed, his thumb tracing her jaw as he moved a hand to her face. “Okay. Come upstairs with me then?”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before nodding. He pressed a chaste kiss against her lips before pulling back and standing up. She took his offered hand and let him lead her up to the bedroom. Neither of them said anything as they changed and got ready for bed. Once they were settled, he pulled her flush against him and she buried her face in his t-shirt.

“I think we need to tell Grace everything.” She murmured, already feeling her eyelids getting heavy again.

He hummed in agreement. “I was thinking the same thing. The sooner the better.”

“And I know what he said, but I think we have to tell Dick that Jason’s back. Just in case we end up needing his help.”

“We can call him in the morning.” Bruce said, already sounding half asleep. “Go to sleep. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I love you.” She whispered.

He pressed his lips against her hair. “I love you.”

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