#I think I'd need to go on for much longer to really hit the end of my point here

[callsigns-haze]

Maybe us one day was absolutely beautiful!!! Thank you so much for your wonderful writing 🙌🏻 would you ever consider a part 2? Possibly with Daddy Xaden and their baby girl?!

Maybe us soon

Pairing: Xaden Riorson x reader

Xaden's life has changed completely. Ever since he became King of Tyrrendor, your lover, overcame venin, his life has been perfect. Hs squad now grows, in many ways, and the old Xaden Riorson would have not suspected this to be his faith, now you, his wife, are pregnant with your daughter but the problem with you is that you can't sit still.

Stand alone but could be part 2 of Maybe us one day

This contains mature themes: mentions of giving birth, kidnapping, blood, injury, throwing up, war I don't think there is any spoiler in fairness, it's just what I'd love the ending to be.

The early morning light hadn’t even touched the sky when the soft rustling of blankets and the shift of weight on the mattress pulled you from sleep. You blinked slowly, still curled in the warmth of your shared bed, the thick blankets wrapped around you like a cocoon. The air was cool—one of those crisp spring mornings in Tyrrendor where dawn always felt a little too early.

You felt him before you saw him.

Xaden.

Moving carefully, deliberately, like he didn’t want to wake you. His scent—storm-washed leather, spice, and something uniquely him—lingered in the sheets, grounding you even as he moved farther from your side.

You made a small, sleepy noise and turned your head, eyes barely open as your hand searched for him in the space he’d just vacated.

His voice was low, soft and gravelly with sleep. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

You whimpered lightly, still not fully conscious, and your fingers clutched at nothing but cooling sheets. “No… stay…”

You felt the mattress dip again as he sat beside you, and a second later, the rough, warm brush of his fingers traced your cheek. You turned into his touch instinctively, still half-dreaming.

“I wish I could,” he murmured, leaning down. His lips pressed gently against your temple, then the bridge of your nose, and finally your mouth in a kiss that was far too soft for how brief it was. “I’ve got council meetings all day. Won’t be back until seven this night.”

That woke you just enough to understand.

Your lips puckered into a pout, eyes fluttering open fully now. He looked so unfairly good for six in the morning—already dressed in his deep black long coat, only the top half fastened, the collar slightly askew from where he’d been rushing. His hair was still damp from the quick rinse he must’ve taken, pushed back with damp fingers, and his shadows slithered across the floor near his boots like they, too, hated leaving.

You pushed yourself up slightly, propping on an elbow. Your shirt—his shirt, really—slipped from your shoulder, and the sight made something flicker in his storm-dark gaze.

“Cancel the meetings,” you murmured, voice still thick with sleep as you reached for him. “King’s orders.”

He huffed out a quiet laugh, brushing your wrist with his thumb. “Is that how it works now?”

“Should be.”

He leaned in and kissed you again—longer this time, slower, like he didn’t want to leave either. Your fingers curled around the front of his coat, holding him there, refusing to let go.

But eventually, he pulled back. “You need rest. Five months isn’t nothing.”

You scowled. “You’re making it sound like I’m delicate.”

His hand smoothed down your side beneath the blankets, finding the gentle swell of your stomach and lingering there. “You’re carrying our daughter,” he said softly. “Delicate doesn’t apply, but important? Yeah.”

Your breath caught. Even now, hearing those words—our daughter—still hit differently. Still lit something warm and wide open in your chest.

You reached for his wrist, holding him there as your thumb traced along his skin. “I’ll miss you.”

Xaden’s expression shifted—just slightly, just enough that you saw the ache behind his eyes. “I’ll be back before you know it. And I’ll bring food this time.”

You gave a half-smile. “Good. If you come home empty-handed again, I’m throwing you out.”

He grinned, but it was crooked and filled with affection. “Noted.”

You pulled his hand to your lips, kissed the knuckles slowly. Then whispered, “Be safe.”

His shadows tightened around his shoulders like a cloak, reacting to your emotion as if they could protect him for you.

“I always am,” he said, leaning in one last time, kissing you gently on the forehead, then again on your belly. “You two behave today.”

You gave a soft snort. “Not likely.”

And then—he was gone.

The door shut behind him with a soft click, his shadows trailing behind like smoke.

You exhaled slowly, sinking back into the pillows, hand splaying over your stomach as your daughter shifted lightly beneath your palm, like she already missed him too.

You whispered to the quiet, to her.

“He’ll be back soon.”

The silence he left behind was almost too loud.

You lay there for a moment, the warmth of his kiss still lingering on your lips, his scent wrapped in the sheets around you. The early morning light finally began to spill through the gauzy curtains, casting golden streaks across the room. Outside, Tyrrendor slowly woke beneath a soft blush of dawn—birds calling lazily from the stone ledges, wind rustling against the tower.

But inside the room, it was just you and her.

You slid your hand slowly over the curve of your belly, where your daughter shifted again—gentle and fluttering, like a ripple across still water.

“Good morning, little one,” you murmured, your voice soft and low. “He didn’t want to leave either, you know.”

She kicked, just once, firm enough to make you blink in surprise.

You smiled, cradling your belly with both hands now. “I know, I miss him too.”

The ache of missing Xaden already rooted itself deep inside you, though it had only been minutes since he’d left. It was ridiculous. You’d spent days, weeks, even months apart during the war. But now, with peace finally settled and life growing inside you, his absence felt heavier—like the bond between you had only grown more insistent with time.

Your daughter rolled again beneath your hands, and you laughed quietly. “You’re just like him, aren’t you? Already making your presence known.”

She didn’t kick this time, but you felt the pressure shift again—a nudge. A reminder that she was there, listening.

With a quiet groan, you sat up and swung your legs over the side of the bed. The cool floor made you shiver, and you reached for the knitted robe slung over the bedpost, shrugging it on with a sigh.

Chaire stirred in your mind, his deep voice crackling into your thoughts like smoke and thunder.

“You mourn a shadow that still walks the halls.”

You snorted, grabbing your slippers. “It’s called missing someone, you dramatic overgrown lizard.”

“Hmph. You sound like him.”

You smirked. “That’s probably why we work.”

Chaire rumbled low with satisfaction, then receded a little, giving you space again, but still there—always there.

You shuffled into the adjacent sitting room, the morning still hush and quiet. The hearth was cold, but the scent of jasmine tea still clung faintly to the stone from last night’s cup.

You stared at the chair Xaden always used. His book was still there, a ribbon marking his place. His cloak, heavy and lined with silver embroidery, was draped neatly across the back. And for a moment, you stood in the silence, one hand on your belly, the other pressed to your lips, still remembering the goodbye kiss.

“I know he’ll be back,” you whispered to your daughter. “But it doesn’t stop me from wanting him here now.”

She didn’t answer, not with a kick or a shift, but the warmth in your chest—the one that grew with every beat of your bonded dragons, every breath of peace you had fought for—wrapped around you and your little girl like a blanket.

You breathed in, let the moment settle, and whispered again—this time to both of them.

“We’ll wait for you, love.”

It started with a slow, nagging pressure low in your abdomen—a gentle but persistent reminder that your bladder was, once again, under siege. You sighed, staring up at the ceiling from where you lay curled in bed, blankets twisted loosely around your legs, your hand resting protectively over your belly.

“Seriously?” you muttered to no one in particular.

Your daughter gave you a solid little kick in response, just under your ribs, like she was proud of the inconvenience.

“Okay, okay. I’m going.”

With another sigh—one that felt far too dramatic for how early it still was—you threw the covers back and swung your legs off the side of the bed. The floor was cool beneath your feet, the room dimly lit by the gentle morning glow filtering in through the tall windows. You shuffled toward the bathroom with all the grace of someone five months pregnant and thoroughly over being interrupted by their own bladder five times a night.

You muttered under your breath as you walked, “You’re lucky I love you, little shadowling.”

She responded with a stretch that made you pause halfway across the room, pressing a hand to your side as you breathed through it.

“Just wait until you’re born,” you warned her softly, groggy but amused. “I’m waking you up every two hours just to say hi.”

The trip to the bathroom was short, but the moment you finally sat down, you exhaled like it was the greatest relief the world had to offer. And honestly, at that moment—it was.

You rested your head against the cool wall for a second, eyes fluttering shut, already counting the hours until Xaden would return. Just twelve more. Twelve very long hours. He’d better come back with chocolate, or pastries. Or chocolate-covered pastries.

Once done, you washed your hands slowly, pausing to glance up at your reflection in the mirror. Your hair was a little wild from sleep, your eyes soft with exhaustion, but glowing in that warm, strange way pregnancy brought. Your hand settled again on the curve of your belly, thumb stroking gently across your shirt.

“Okay,” you whispered to your daughter. “We peed. Can we go back to sleep now?”

Another kick.

You snorted.

“Didn’t think so.”

You padded barefoot out of the bathroom, still adjusting the robe wrapped loosely around you. The sky outside had started to brighten just enough to bathe the room in pale morning light, and despite how early it was, you already felt that familiar tug to do something.

Your eyes drifted toward Xaden’s desk, where a stack of papers sat in their usual, stubbornly neat arrangement—his handwriting sharp and angular across the pages. He’d left them open again, probably planning to finish reviewing them before the council meeting.

“Just a peek,” you murmured to yourself as you passed by the bed and peeled off your robe.

You reached for the long tunic you’d worn yesterday, tugging it over your head with one hand while the other reached for the closest parchment. The fabric clung stubbornly around your baby bump, making you huff and wiggle until it finally slid into place—crooked, but good enough for now.

Balancing on one foot, trying to shove your legs into a pair of leggings, you scanned the heading on the first sheet. It looked like a report from the southern provinces—likely some political reshuffling in one of the border cities. You narrowed your eyes as you tried to tug the leggings higher, hopping once to get them over your hips.

“Why do these feel tighter every single day?” you muttered, yanking them up in frustration.

Your daughter responded with a pointed kick, right against your ribs.

“Yeah, yeah,” you grumbled, glancing down at your belly. “I know. I’m aware of your opinion on leggings.”

You gave up trying to adjust the waistband and turned your attention back to the documents.

Another set caught your eye—these ones detailed notes in Xaden’s handwriting about Tyrrendor’s post-war infrastructure plans. He’d scrawled your name beside a note about “civilian outreach coordination,” followed by a question mark and the word proposal? next to it.

Your heart fluttered.

He hadn’t even mentioned it to you yet, but clearly, he was thinking about including you more in his council work. Or maybe he hadn’t decided whether to bring it up. Typical Xaden—wanting to make sure everything was lined up before involving you.

You leaned on the edge of the desk, fingers brushing the edge of the parchment as you smiled softly to yourself.

“You’re lucky I love you,” you muttered again, more fondly this time.

From the back of your mind, Chaire stirred lazily.

“He’s trying to protect your peace. You know this.”

“I do,” you answered silently, glancing toward the door where he’d disappeared hours ago. “But I’m not made of glass.”

“No. You’re made of fire.”

You smirked, pushing off the desk and finally pulling your tunic into something that resembled a straight line across your body. You didn’t feel entirely ready for the day—but standing there, wearing his clothes, reading his thoughts inked into paper, and carrying the child you created together…

You felt exactly where you were meant to be.

The hallway was quiet as you stepped out of the bedroom, one hand pressed to your lower back, the other resting gently over your belly. You took a steadying breath, brushing a few loose strands of hair from your face as you made your way toward the stairs. The stone beneath your feet was warm where sunlight filtered in through the stained glass windows, casting delicate colours across the hallway floor like a mosaic come alive.

Chaire rumbled faintly at the back of your mind. “You’re tired. Rest would be wiser.”

“I just want tea,” you murmured back, pressing a hand to your side as your daughter nudged beneath your ribs again, as if to echo his sentiment.

The staircase curved gently downward, the polished wood catching the early morning light just enough to make you squint. You gripped the banister with your right hand and started the descent carefully, already envisioning that first comforting sip of something warm and sweet in the kitchen below.

You were halfway down when your foot caught the edge of your too-long leggings.

The slip happened in an instant.

Your heel slid forward, socks offering no resistance against the smooth step, and your balance tilted sharply. You reached instinctively for the banister, but the momentum had already shifted. You let out a startled yelp—less panic, more frustration—as you slid down the last five stairs on your backside, bumping hard with each one.

“Dammit—ow—ow—okay—ow!”

By the time you landed at the bottom with a graceless thud, your hair had half fallen out of its tie, your tunic had ridden up your thighs, and your pride was a little bruised. Your daughter gave a startled kick in protest, and you hissed through your teeth, both hands immediately flying to your stomach.

“I’m fine,” you breathed, more to her than yourself, heart racing. “We’re fine. Just… a very undignified descent.”

Chaire surged into your mind, shadowy and sharp. “What happened?”

“I tripped.”

“You fell.” His voice was ice and thunder now, full of sudden rage and alarm. “Where is Xaden?”

You groaned, sitting up slowly. “He’s not here, remember? Long meetings. Twelve hours of boring king things. I’m okay.”

“You’re not allowed on stairs alone anymore.”

You let out a breathless laugh and rubbed your hip where it had taken the brunt of the impact. “Noted. Add it to the list of forbidden activities next to lifting anything heavier than a pastry.”

You placed one hand against the wall and slowly pushed yourself to your feet, biting down hard on your bottom lip as a sharp throb pulsed through your left knee. The pain radiated outward like lightning beneath your skin—hot, stabbing, and immediate.

You inhaled shakily. “Okay,” you muttered, testing your weight on that leg.

The second your foot hit the floor, a bolt of pain lanced through your knee so fiercely it stole the breath from your lungs. You gasped and stumbled, gripping the edge of the banister to stay upright.

“Shit—” you breathed, squeezing your eyes shut.

The pain didn’t fade—it pulsed, deep and angry, making your vision blur for a moment. Your other leg trembled slightly just from compensating, and your palm was slick with sweat against the wooden rail.

Then Chaire surged into your mind, his presence sharp and immediate, his voice a growl at the base of your skull.

“You will not move. Do you hear me?”

You gritted your teeth. “I’m fine—”

“You are not. I felt the jolt through your entire body.” His voice dropped, like thunder rolling over stone. “I’ve already sent word through Chradh.”

You blinked. “What—wait—Chradh?”

“Garrick’s dragon. He will rouse Brennan.” A pause. “And Mira, likely, though I expect her to arrive with fire and fury once she hears you fell down the stairs pregnant and alone.”

Despite the pain, you groaned, slumping back against the wall. “Perfect. That’s exactly what I need. A full Sorrengail sibling intervention before breakfast.”

“You should have listened.”

You rolled your eyes even as another sharp throb made you wince. “Thank you, Chaire.”

“Don’t thank me. Don’t move.” His voice dropped to something gentler, almost concerned. “Keep your hand on your belly. Let me feel her.”

You did, breathing steadily as your fingers found the soft rise beneath your tunic. Your daughter was still, but there—safe, quiet. You exhaled slowly in relief.

“Okay,” you whispered to her. “Help’s coming.”

The sharp pain in your knee hadn’t dulled even a fraction. Every time you shifted your weight, it shot through you in jagged bursts, leaving you breathless. You let out a soft groan, pressing your forehead against the cool banister, the weight of your body leaning on it as if it could somehow offer comfort.

"Fuck..." you whispered under your breath, fighting the urge to cry out. The discomfort was so intense that it felt like it was seeping into your bones, radiating outward until it was all-consuming. You bit down on your lip to stop from making any louder sounds, not wanting to cause alarm—but it was nearly impossible.

Chaire's presence flooded your mind once again, his shadows tightening around you as though to shield you from the overwhelming pain. “You need to remain still. Brennan will be here soon. Just hold on.”

You clenched your teeth, shaking your head. "I can't just sit here," you rasped, though your body wanted nothing more than to remain immobile. "I can't—"

The shadows around you shifted, dark and protective. “You must.” His voice was firm, but there was a quiet, unmistakable undercurrent of concern that you hadn’t missed. “You don’t realize how much damage you’ve done, but I do. Moving could make it worse.”

The words hit you like a cold slap. You hadn’t thought about it that way. You were too distracted by the pain, by the pressure, by the helplessness of the situation. Your knee had taken the brunt of your fall, and now, even trying to stand still, your body screamed for you to do something—anything.

Another groan tore from you, this one involuntary, a soft but desperate noise as the ache in your knee flared again. It felt like your leg was on fire, the raw, unbearable sensation making your head swim.

You felt faint for a moment, closing your eyes as you leaned a little more heavily into the banister, trying to steady yourself.

“Brennan is coming. He’ll help you.” Chaire's voice was calm, reassuring, but even that couldn't mask the raw frustration behind it. “You’re strong—but this is a different kind of hurt. Don’t fight it. Just wait.”

You nodded slowly, your free hand resting on your belly once more, grounding yourself. It was a strange comfort, the small movements of your daughter inside of you, reminding you that she was there. Safe, still with you.

But the pain… it didn’t let up. It was constant, almost like a beat in your body, pulsing in time with your heart, every throb a reminder of how out of control you were right now. A reminder of how vulnerable you felt.

"Please," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. "Please... hurry..."

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway, and your heart skipped in anticipation, even though the pain hadn’t dulled in the slightest. The shadows around you seemed to tense as they drew closer, a slight ripple of movement across the floor, signalling the arrival of help.

First, you heard Garrick’s voice, sharp and panicked, as it carried through the doorframe.

“What the hell happened?” His boots echoed off the stone floor as he stormed into the room, eyes wide with panic. “Why are you on the ground?” His gaze instantly found you, his expression morphing from fear to frantic concern. “Are you okay?”

You managed a small shake of your head, still clutching the banister for support as you struggled to remain standing, only the wall and Chaire’s presence keeping you from collapsing entirely. “I… I slipped,” you forced out through gritted teeth, trying to downplay the pain, but the tremor in your voice betrayed you.

Garrick’s eyes flicked down to your knee and the way you were trying to hold yourself together, and his face paled. He knelt before you, one hand reaching out, but you could see the hesitation in his eyes as though afraid to touch you. “You’re hurt,” he said, his voice tight. His hands hovered in the air as if uncertain of what to do.

“Garrick,” you murmured, voice ragged from the pain, “It’s fine. Brennan… is he?”

Your words seemed to snap him out of his daze. He immediately looked behind him, just as Brennan and Mira stepped into view. Brennan was already moving toward you with a determined focus, his brows furrowed. He shot Garrick a sharp look, a silent command that told him not to panic.

Mira was right behind him, her expression tight with concern but also full of control. She glanced at you, her eyes scanning your body quickly. “What happened?” she asked, her tone measured, though the worry was clearly there.

Garrick didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached out, his hands shaking slightly as he moved to your leg. “What the hell, YN?” His voice was thick with distress. “You could’ve called for help! Why are you even up right now?” He turned back to Brennan, looking like he was about to explode, and then back to you. “Don’t tell me you’re still going to try to walk on this thing.”

You barely had time to respond before Brennan was kneeling beside you, his strong hands moving to your knee with the skill of someone who’d dealt with injuries more than once. His eyes were dark with concern as he gently prodded at the swollen joint, assessing the damage.

“You shouldn’t have moved at all,” Brennan muttered, his voice low, though still calm. “Let me see—”

“Hold on,” Mira interjected, stepping closer and kneeling beside you. She brushed a hand along your arm, her touch gentle but firm, before she met your gaze. “How bad is it, YN? What exactly happened?”

“It—” you winced, barely able to speak as Brennan moved your leg, his hands steady but still making your knee flare with pain. “It’s just my knee. I… slipped down the stairs. It’s just pain… it’s bad but I—I think I just twisted it—”

“Twisted it?!” Garrick was almost shouting now, panic evident on his face. “Do you realize what you’re saying right now? YN, you could’ve torn something—hell, you could’ve fractured your knee! You need to be on a bed, you shouldn’t be—”

Mira shot him a sharp look, her brows raised. “Garrick, stop. Yelling won’t help.”

His mouth opened in protest, but Brennan laid a hand on his shoulder, his gaze still locked on you. “We need to get her to the table,” he said, voice commanding. “The damage to her knee doesn’t seem to be permanent, but we won’t know for sure until I can get a better look. We’ll need ice, and we need to stabilize it.”

“I can walk,” you insisted, gritting your teeth as you straightened up a little, determined to prove you could handle this. But the second you tried to shift your weight again, the pain flared even stronger, and your vision blurred. “I just—”

“No,” Garrick interrupted sharply. “No, you can’t. Not like this. Please—don’t do that to yourself.” He glanced over at Brennan, who had already started to stand. “Help her, Brennan. Please.”

Brennan nodded, already lifting you carefully, making sure to keep your knee straight. His touch was steady, his grip sure as he helped you move to the nearby chair, sitting you down gently. Garrick hovered beside you, his worry still evident, and Mira stayed behind, eyes calculating as she assessed your condition.

"Just breathe," Brennan said, a slight edge to his voice as he worked swiftly, applying the first layers of care. "We’ll have you taken care of, YN. I’ll make sure of it."

Garrick didn’t move. His eyes never left you, still holding onto the lingering panic. And for a moment, despite all the chaos, you felt like everything was about to be okay—because they were here.

A sharp, involuntary whimper tore from you as Brennan gently pressed his hands against your knee, the pain flaring again. It was so intense that it felt like it was swallowing you whole, making your vision swim and your breaths come in shallow, desperate gasps. Every tiny movement, even the gentlest touch, made the ache shoot up through your entire body.

“I—I’m sorry,” you stammered, biting your lip to hold back the next cry that threatened to escape. You felt so vulnerable, so exposed, and the pain made it harder to keep a grip on your composure.

Brennan’s expression softened, and though his hands were still steady, you could feel the concentration in his movements. “You’re fine,” he reassured you, his voice low and steady, though it held the usual undertone of intensity you were used to from him. “I’m going to fix this. Just stay with me.”

He had the calmness of someone used to being in control of chaotic situations. His hands pressed against your swollen knee, warmth and power radiating from them. You could feel the subtle pull of magic, the familiar sense of healing energy flowing from him, but it didn’t immediately erase the pain. It took time. You clenched your teeth harder, trying to breathe through it as his magic began to settle around your knee.

A sob broke free from your chest despite your best efforts to hold it in. “Brennan—please,” you whispered, a tear slipping down your cheek. It felt as though your knee were on fire, a blaze that would never die down. “It—hurts so much…”

Brennan’s expression softened further, and he shot a quick glance at Garrick, who was standing helplessly off to the side. “I know,” he said quietly, his voice so soothing it almost didn’t match the intensity of the situation. “But I’m here, YN. Let me help you.”

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes as his hands shifted slightly, the light touch of his fingers sending waves of soothing, healing energy through your leg. You could feel his magic, like a warm current flowing through your muscles, coaxing them to relax. For a moment, the worst of the pain started to fade, replaced by a dull ache that was easier to manage. But it wasn’t enough to make the pain disappear entirely.

“You’re doing great,” Brennan encouraged gently, though there was a subtle strain in his voice as he worked through the damage, fixing what he could. “Just breathe with me. Let go of the tension. You’ll be okay.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to breathe evenly, but each exhale came out shaky. The pain ebbed, bit by bit, until it was more manageable. It felt like a steady, pulsating throb in your knee rather than the searing agony from earlier. Even though you still felt weak and vulnerable, the raw intensity was starting to recede, like the worst of the storm had passed.

“Better?” Brennan asked quietly, his hands still on your knee, though the pressure had lessened a little.

You opened your eyes slowly, your body still trembling from the effort to stay still, to breathe through it. “Yeah,” you whispered hoarsely. “It’s not… as bad. But—” You stopped yourself, knowing you didn’t want to push him too far.

“Good,” he said, nodding in satisfaction, though he didn’t pull his hands away just yet. “I’ve stabilized it for now, but we’ll need to keep the weight off of it for a while. We’ll get you some ice and proper support, okay?”

You nodded, still holding onto the chair as if it were the only thing keeping you from breaking into a million pieces. “Thank you,” you murmured, your voice soft, trying to pull yourself back together.

Brennan’s gaze softened, and he finally let go, standing up as he stepped back to let you settle. His hands were warm, the energy still lingering in the air, but you could tell by the slight furrow in his brow that he knew this wasn’t over.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he said with a small, tight smile. “We’ll need to do a full check-up once you’re able to move a bit. But for now, just keep it elevated and stay off it as much as you can.”

Garrick was still watching you, his expression a mixture of relief and concern. “You’re sure she’s okay, Brennan?”

Brennan nodded, but his gaze didn’t leave you. “She’ll be okay. It’ll just take a little time to heal completely.” He turned to Garrick then. “Go get the ice. We’ll need to stabilize it further before she moves around much more.”

As Garrick hurried off to fetch the ice, Brennan met your eyes again, his voice softer now. “You’re going to be alright, YN. I’ve got you.”

You nodded again, still feeling the weight of what had just happened settling in your chest. The pain was still there, but you were no longer alone in it.

You looked up at Brennan, the last remnants of the pain fading into a dull throb, and your voice was quiet, almost hesitant. “Brennan…” You paused, not wanting to sound too pleading, but the thought of Xaden hovering over you made your chest tighten. “Please… don’t tell Xaden about this.”

Brennan’s gaze flicked to you, his brow furrowing slightly in concern. “YN, you know Xaden will be worried. You’re hurt. He has a right to know.”

“I know,” you replied quickly, shaking your head just a little. “But he’s already worried enough. I don’t want him to freak out.” You winced at the thought of Xaden’s ever-watchful eyes on you, his constant vigilance when it came to your safety. “He hovers enough as it is. The moment he knows I’m hurt, he’ll be right there, demanding I stay in bed for days, treating me like I can’t do anything myself.” You let out a soft sigh, almost frustrated. “I just want a little peace right now.”

Brennan studied you for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the balance between loyalty to Xaden and his care for you. He exhaled slowly, his shoulders dropping in resignation. “I get it. I won’t tell him,” he said softly, though there was a note of caution in his tone. “But I want you to promise me that if it gets worse, if you start feeling any more pain or if something feels off, you’ll let him know. No hiding it. He’ll just worry more later if you do.”

You nodded, relief flooding through you. “I promise. But for now, please, just let me deal with it myself. I can handle this.” You glanced over at Garrick, who had returned with ice, and then back at Brennan. “I just… I want to feel normal, you know?”

Brennan’s gaze softened, his shoulders relaxing as he gave you a small, understanding nod. “Alright. But remember, YN, I’m here if you need me. I can help, even if it’s just keeping things from getting out of hand.”

“I know. Thank you,” you whispered, feeling the weight of your request and the comfort that came from his understanding.

Brennan's hands were gentle but steady as he adjusted his focus to your stomach, his fingers barely brushing against the fabric of your shirt. He seemed to sense your tension, the way you held your breath as he worked, but his expression was professional, calm. He wasn’t here to make you feel uncomfortable—only to make sure everything was okay.

"YN, I need to check something," he said quietly, his voice steady but soft, as though trying to ease any nervousness you might have. He didn't look at you directly as he spoke, but his gaze remained intent on his task, ready for anything that might require his attention.

You swallowed, nodding slowly, still feeling the residual unease in the pit of your stomach. The idea of someone examining you made you self-conscious, but you trusted Brennan. You had always trusted him, especially in moments like these when you knew he was only concerned about your health and well-being.

He pulled your shirt up just a little, enough to reveal the curve of your abdomen, and his hands, warm and steady, hovered over your skin for a moment. You could feel the subtle weight of his gaze, and though his focus was completely on you, he wasn’t rushing, wasn’t making it uncomfortable. He was thorough, his touch careful as he gently pressed against your stomach.

His brow furrowed slightly as his hands moved in a slow, deliberate pattern. He wasn't speaking now, his attention fully on feeling for any signs of discomfort or anything that might be out of the ordinary. His fingers pressed in just enough to assess, but not hard enough to hurt, moving over the sensitive skin and the muscle beneath.

It wasn’t just your injury that had him concerned—he’d been worried about you ever since you’d gotten pregnant, constantly keeping an eye on your health, knowing that every little detail mattered, especially now with everything that had happened. His mind was never far from your well-being.

The quiet in the room stretched for a few long moments, and the only sound was the soft rustle of your clothing and your steady breathing. You could feel your heart rate settle, the initial tension of having him examine you slowly easing away. He wasn’t just checking on your injury—there was a deeper concern for you, for the baby, for everything that had happened recently.

Finally, Brennan spoke, breaking the silence. "Everything seems alright for now, no signs of distress or anything abnormal," he said, his voice soft but reassuring. His fingers brushed one last time over your stomach, more for his own reassurance than anything else. "I’ll keep an eye on you, YN, but right now, it’s just a precaution. We’ll need to take it easy, but everything should be fine."

You let out a slow, quiet breath, nodding. “Thank you.” It was more than just for the check-up—it was for him being here, for being someone you could count on, even when things felt uncertain.

Brennan’s eyes softened, and he gave you a small nod before helping you adjust your shirt back into place, his fingers lingering only for a moment longer. "If you need anything, just let me know. I’ll make sure you’re alright."

Garrick entered the room with a purposeful stride, the ice pack in his hands carefully wrapped in cloth, his brow furrowed in that familiar, protective way he always wore. He glanced between you and Brennan, his expression softening slightly when he saw the way you were sitting, the faint relief visible on your face.

“Everything alright?” he asked, his voice thick with concern but also an undertone of the calm assurance he always carried. His eyes lingered for a moment on your stomach, but then moved quickly back to Brennan, seeking confirmation from the mender about your condition.

Brennan met his gaze and nodded, his hands still lingering near you, but his voice was steady. "She's stable now. The leg's been treated, and no immediate complications with the pregnancy or anything else. Just needs some rest."

Garrick seemed to let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his shoulders relaxing just slightly as he moved closer to you. His attention shifted to your knee again, then to your face. "You sure you’re alright? Don’t hesitate to say if something’s off."

You nodded, giving him a weak smile, though the tremor in your voice betrayed the discomfort still lingering beneath the surface. "I’m okay for now… just need to take it easy." Your words were a bit quieter than usual, and even though you were trying to reassure him, you could see the concern that hadn’t quite left his eyes.

Garrick crouched down beside you, his hand reaching out to gently rest on your shoulder. His grip was firm, grounding, but the tenderness in it made the moment feel surprisingly intimate, like a shield around you. "We’ll take care of you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, and then his gaze flicked over to Brennan. "Anything else I can do?"

Brennan shook his head, stepping back a little. "Just keep her comfortable. I’ll make sure we get the proper support in place when she’s ready to move."

Garrick nodded, then looked back to you, his thumb brushing lightly over your shoulder as he stood up. "Alright, I’ll grab the ice and make sure we get everything set up," he murmured, moving to do so. His movements were purposeful, but there was a softness to them that told you he wasn’t just acting out of duty—he genuinely cared.

You leaned back slightly, closing your eyes for a brief moment, feeling the weight of everything catch up to you. It wasn’t just the physical pain that was hard to handle. It was the constant reminder of how everything had shifted, how much more delicate things felt now. But with Brennan and Garrick here, it felt a little easier to breathe, a little less overwhelming.

The evening dragged on slowly, and as the time passed, the exhaustion in your body began to catch up with you. You had tucked yourself into bed, the long, soft sleeping gown you wore flowing over your legs, its fabric comfortable against your skin, but its full length serving as a reminder to keep the swelling hidden. Your knee still ached in the background, but the pain had dulled enough for you to focus on the thoughts swirling in your head, trying to ignore the way your body screamed for rest.

You had convinced Brennan, Garrick, and Mira not to tell Xaden, but now, with each passing minute, the dread of him finding out was gnawing at you. You hated the idea of worrying him even more, especially after everything he'd been through with the revolution and his new role. The weight of his affection, of his constant hovering, had always been something you appreciated. But right now, you needed space, needed time to gather yourself, and you feared what his reaction would be.

As you laid in the quiet, listening to the muffled sounds of the household below, your mind kept drifting back to the moment with Brennan and Garrick. You hadn't been entirely honest with yourself, either. You were scared. You didn't know what would happen next. And as the door to your bedroom creaked open, your heart skipped a beat.

Xaden stepped inside.

The soft glow of the lamp in the corner illuminated his tall form as he entered. His dark hair was tousled, likely from a long day spent with the weight of leadership on his shoulders. He had his usual confident stance, but there was something softer about him now, something that made him appear more human, less like the warrior-king he had to become.

When his eyes met yours, a small smile tugged at his lips, though there was a glimmer of concern there as well. "You’re in bed already?" he asked, his voice low and tired but warm. "I thought I’d find you up and about. How’s the day been?"

You managed to force a smile, trying to keep your voice steady. "It’s been... fine. Just tired. How was your meeting?"

Xaden took a few steps toward the bed, his eyes scanning your face, noticing the way you were tucked under the covers. It wasn't a typical sight; usually, you were already up moving around by this time, but tonight there was something different in the way you lay there, almost as if you were retreating from him.

"The meeting was long," he said, his tone carrying a bit of weariness, but he didn’t sit down immediately. His gaze flickered briefly to the way you were holding your body, the way your legs were tucked in, hidden under the covers. He was careful not to ask questions right away, but you could feel the tension in the air—his senses sharpening, just waiting for a hint of what was wrong.

You forced yourself to sit up a little, pushing down the urge to lay back down and hide everything from him. "I didn’t want to bother you while you were busy," you said, your words coming out too quickly, as if trying to convince both him and yourself. "It’s just been a quiet evening. Resting."

Xaden didn’t buy it. His eyes softened with that familiar intensity as he slowly approached the edge of the bed, lowering himself to sit beside you. He gently reached for your hand, his touch warm against your skin as his fingers brushed over yours.

"YN," he said softly, his voice a low rumble. "What’s going on? You look like you’ve been through something today. Are you sure you’re alright?"

A lump formed in your throat, and you could feel the truth threatening to spill out of you. But instead, you swallowed it down, fighting the wave of emotions threatening to overtake you. The last thing you wanted was for him to carry more burden.

"I’m fine," you lied, even as the words tasted bitter in your mouth. "Just... tired."

He didn’t let go of your hand, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly, but he didn’t press further. Xaden was patient, always willing to wait for you to be ready to open up, but you could see the worry flickering beneath his gaze.

"You know you don’t have to hide things from me, right?" he said softly, his voice full of that rare vulnerability you didn’t often hear from him. "I’m here, no matter what." He paused for a moment before adding with a teasing smile, "Though, if you want to stay in bed all day to avoid me, I’ll have to start getting creative with ways to get you up."

His attempt at humour wasn’t lost on you. It made you want to laugh, but instead, you just smiled softly, feeling a wave of affection for him. "I’m not hiding from you," you said quietly, squeezing his hand. "I just need some rest. That’s all."

Xaden didn’t seem entirely convinced, but he nodded, squeezing your hand back gently. "Alright," he said, his voice a little more serious now. "But if you need me for anything… I’m right here. Always."

You could feel the weight of his words, the sincerity in them. But the knot in your stomach remained, the secret you were holding onto threatening to break free, even though you were doing everything you could to keep it hidden.

As he leaned in to kiss your forehead, you closed your eyes, wishing you could take away all the concern in his expression. But for now, you were too scared to let him in on the truth. Too scared to let him see that, despite everything, you felt like you were barely holding it all together.

As Xaden got up to change, the soft rustling of clothes filled the air. His movements were purposeful, the long day evident in the way he removed his clothes, his tiredness seeping through. You tried to focus on your breathing, calming yourself, but there was a weight hanging between you that you couldn’t shake. He was coming back to bed now, and you'd have to keep pretending, keep hiding the truth.

He climbed back into the bed with an almost serene calmness, his body shifting on the mattress as he made himself comfortable. His warmth radiated, and you closed your eyes for a second, hoping to let the moment settle before he caught onto something.

But then, as he shifted closer, his leg brushed against yours, and his expression immediately changed. His hand froze, his brows furrowing as he gently prodded at your wrapped leg beneath the covers. He pulled the blanket back, exposing the bandage, and his eyes narrowed.

"What the hell is this?" His voice was thick with disbelief, a low growl forming in the back of his throat as he pulled the covers back fully, revealing the wrap and the ice pack that still lay at your knee.

You froze, a pang of panic striking your chest as you scrambled to think of a way out of this, but there was no getting past it now.

“YN," Xaden’s tone shifted from the soft, tired warmth to something far more intense. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?" His words were laced with a mixture of anger and genuine concern, his fingers gripping the edge of the blanket as his eyes snapped to yours. “Did Brennan know about this? Garrick?”

You could see the flicker of frustration behind his gaze, and for a moment, it almost felt like he was on the verge of losing control. His chest rose and fell as if he was trying to control his breathing, but it wasn’t working. He was slipping into that protective mode you knew so well—like a lion pacing its cage.

“Tell me you didn’t let them keep this from me,” he growled, his voice dangerously low now. “I’m not... I’m not doing this, YN. I’m not letting you hide this from me.” His eyes flashed with anger, and you could see his jaw clench, his hands still gripping the blankets like a lifeline.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself. “I didn’t want to worry you,” you said, your voice a little shaky. “I didn’t want to stress you out more, especially with everything you’ve been dealing with—”

“No,” Xaden snapped, his voice cutting you off sharply. His gaze turned into a storm as he leaned forward, his hand moving to your face to gently tilt your chin upward, forcing you to look into his eyes. “You don’t get to make that decision for me. You don’t get to protect me from what’s going on with you. I’m your partner, YN. I’m supposed to know. I should’ve known about this hours ago.” His voice dropped, soft but unmistakably furious. “I’ll kill Garrick.” The words were spoken with such cold fury that you could feel the weight of them in your bones, his protective instincts roaring to life.

You winced as his hands moved away from your face, and his eyes flashed with something that could only be described as pissed-off mama hen mode. He sat up, staring at the ceiling as if trying to gather his thoughts, his fingers tapping against his leg in frustration.

His gaze landed back on you, softer but still filled with that unrelenting concern. “I’m really pissed at you right now,” he admitted, his voice quieter but still edged with irritation. “And I know you’re going to tell me I’m overreacting, but damn it, I don’t care. You didn’t have to handle this on your own. Not when you’re pregnant. Not when we’re supposed to be in this together.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat, the weight of his emotions hitting you harder than expected. You had wanted to protect him, but now, it felt like you had failed in a way you couldn’t explain.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, the weight of your apology filling the room. “I didn’t want to cause more stress. I just... I thought I could handle it myself.”

Xaden’s expression softened just a little, but the anger still lingered in his eyes. He didn’t say anything at first, just leaned back against the pillows, his face still etched with that protective fury. He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

"You think I wouldn’t have noticed? That I wouldn’t have felt you trying to hide something from me?" His voice was less sharp now, more resigned, though you could still hear the hurt in it. "You can’t do this to me, YN. You can’t protect me from everything."

You nodded quietly, still processing the depth of his frustration, his love, and the pressure of his care for you. You could feel the weight of his words, and the fear that came with not wanting him to feel burdened.

He was quiet for a moment, then slowly turned to face you, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I’m not mad about you being hurt, YN," he murmured, the anger finally leaving his voice. "I’m mad that you didn’t let me be there for you when you needed me.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling the warmth of his touch despite everything. “I’ll try not to do it again,” you said softly, the words almost like a promise.

“I hope so,” Xaden said, his voice tender but firm. He leaned down, kissing your forehead gently. "But just... promise me you won’t shut me out. Promise me that you’ll let me be there next time."

"I promise," you whispered, feeling the weight of his words sink into your soul, a promise to yourself and to him that you would never again keep him at arm’s length.

Xaden held you close for a moment, his arms wrapped around you as if he never wanted to let go. The warmth of his body and his steady heartbeat filled the silence, and for a brief moment, everything felt like it would be okay. Even with the complications, the chaos, and the pressure of everything around you, you knew you weren’t alone. And that, in itself, was all you needed to feel safe again.

After a few moments of silence, Xaden’s grip on you loosened just slightly, though he still held you close. He seemed to calm, but the concern in his eyes never fully ebbed away. He sighed deeply, his fingers gently tracing small circles on your arm as if trying to calm himself just as much as he was trying to reassure you.

“How are you feeling?” His voice was soft, but you could hear the weight of his worry in it, the anxiety that had never fully left him even when he tried to hide it. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of pain, any sign that you were still suffering from the fall or the strain on your body.

His gaze softened when he noticed the subtle, protective way you clutched your stomach, as if instinctively shielding your unborn daughter from any harm. His eyes flickered there for a moment, the worry in them intensifying. "And how’s she doing? Our little girl... how is she?" His voice cracked just slightly on the last part, the vulnerability in it catching you off guard.

His fingers brushed lightly over your stomach, as if to feel for any sign of movement or any indication that your daughter was okay. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, and you could see how badly he wanted to hear that everything was fine. The thought of something happening to you or her seemed to terrify him in a way nothing else ever had.

“Xaden…” you started softly, looking up into his face, trying to reassure him the best way you knew how. “I’m okay. I’m sore, but nothing feels wrong. Our daughter... she’s okay. I can feel her moving around.”

He nodded, visibly relieved, though the worry never fully left his eyes. "Good," he whispered, as if to himself. His thumb brushed lightly against your stomach once more before he looked back up at you, his jaw tight with the remnants of his fear. "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overreact. But after what happened to you before… and everything we’ve been through… I just…" He trailed off, shaking his head, unable to fully explain how terrified he had been when he first saw the wrap around your leg.

You gently cupped his face, the warmth of your touch pulling his gaze back to yours. "You don’t need to apologize," you murmured, giving him a reassuring smile despite the tightness in your chest. "I know you’re scared, Xaden. And I’m scared too. But we’re going to be okay. Our daughter’s going to be okay." You pressed your hand over your stomach for emphasis, a quiet promise that you’d keep both of you safe.

His hand rested on top of yours, and for a moment, you both just sat there in silence, the air thick with all the unspoken words between you. Xaden’s thumb traced over your knuckles, his gaze never leaving your face. It was like he was trying to memorize every inch of you, as though he needed to imprint the memory of this moment into his mind in case things got worse.

“I’m just so scared, YN," he whispered after a long while. His voice was barely audible, raw and filled with a kind of desperation that made your heart ache for him. "I don’t ever want to lose either of you. I can’t imagine what I’d do without you."

You felt your heart flutter in your chest, a wave of love and compassion sweeping over you. You reached out, pulling him in for a deep, slow kiss, the kind that reassured both of you. When you pulled back, you looked into his eyes and whispered, “You won’t lose us. We’re right here with you, Xaden. And we always will be.”

He held you tighter, resting his forehead against yours, as if grounding himself in the reassurance you offered. “Promise me,” he whispered urgently, his voice thick with emotion. “Promise me you won’t shut me out. Promise me we’ll get through everything together. I’m not strong enough to do this without you.”

“I promise,” you whispered back, holding him close, your voice steady despite the weight of his words. “We’re in this together. Always.”

The tension in his body seemed to melt away as he relaxed into you, the fear still there but soothed by your words. For now, he could hold onto that promise, and the reassurance that no matter what, you’d face it all side by side.

BONUS- 3 MONTHS LATER

The late afternoon sun cast a warm amber glow through the gauzy curtains of your bedroom, bathing the space in soft, golden light. You were curled up in bed, propped against a mountain of pillows with a book open in your lap, though you hadn’t turned the page in nearly ten minutes. You were too distracted—by the subtle tightness in your back, the persistent ache in your hips, and the odd sensation low in your belly that kept fluttering and pulling in a way that felt… too rhythmic to ignore.

Across the room, Xaden sat in the armchair, shirtless, in worn black sweats, a stack of papers resting on one knee while his shadows flicked lazily at his shoulders and around the edges of the chair. His hair was slightly tousled from running his fingers through it in frustration, and his brow was furrowed in focus as he scribbled something onto the corner of a document.

You stared at him for a moment, watching the slight twitch in his jaw and the way his shoulders tensed every time the paperwork annoyed him. He looked beautiful like this—calm, focused, completely at home. And yet, here you were, heart pounding beneath your ribs.

“…Xaden?” you said softly, almost hesitant.

He glanced up immediately, the furrow in his brow smoothing as his dark eyes met yours. “Yeah, love?”

You closed your book slowly and rested it beside you, fingers fidgeting slightly over your bump as you bit your lower lip. “Do you remember what you told me? That I should always tell you if anything feels off?”

He stilled, eyes narrowing slightly, the papers forgotten as they slid off his knee. His attention sharpened instantly, his entire body alert like a shadow-laced predator. “Yes,” he said, voice low and steady. “Why? What’s wrong?”

You took a shaky breath, trying to find the words—trying to stay calm even as another low, pulling sensation rippled through your body. It wasn’t pain exactly. But it was building. And consistent.

“What would you say,” you began slowly, your voice soft but unflinching, “if I told you… that I think our daughter is coming early?”

The world held its breath.

Xaden stared at you, completely still. His shadows stilled too, like they'd heard your words and froze with them. Then, slowly, he stood from the chair, the papers falling to the floor unnoticed. His expression was unreadable for a long beat—caught between shock, awe, and the sheer protective panic that only came when it involved you or your daughter.

“…What?”

A/N: I was not intending it to get so long but eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek Credit to @empyreanevents for the divider

[scoupsakakitty]

LOOOOOVE YOUR BLOG i'm literally obsessed with idol!scoups fics and u r soooo good in writing them <333

not sure if you are open to requests but in case that you are, i'd love to see an angsty one with idol!scoups, maybe one where they fight ??? and cheol has to go on tour or work or something so they're not okay for quite a while and make up once he gets home :(((

Silent Apologies | idol!Scoups x Reader | angst, fluff

The argument had started over something small—something stupid, really—but it had escalated far beyond what either of them expected.

"You always do this, Seungcheol!" Y/N's voice wavered with frustration as she stood in the middle of their living room, arms crossed tightly over her chest. "You shut me out, and then you expect me to just be okay with it!"

Seungcheol ran a hand through his hair, his patience already frayed. "Because I don’t want to fight with you, Y/N! I’m exhausted, I have so much on my plate, and the last thing I need is another argument!"

"So what? You think I don’t get tired too? That I don’t have feelings?" Her voice cracked slightly, but she refused to let it show any weakness. "You act like you're the only one who has problems, but you're never here anymore!"

His jaw clenched. "You knew what you were getting into when we started this! My schedule isn’t something I can just change!"

"I'm not asking you to change it, Seungcheol! I'm asking you to at least talk to me about it instead of pushing me away!"

He exhaled sharply, looking away. "I can't do this right now."

Y/N scoffed, hurt flashing across her face. "Of course you can’t. You always run away the second things get hard."

That was the last straw. His temper snapped. "You think I run away? I do everything I can to keep this together! I'm trying my best, Y/N! But maybe my best isn't enough for you!"

Silence followed his outburst, thick and suffocating. The words hung between them like a wound neither could take back. Y/N swallowed, blinking away the sting in her eyes. "Maybe it’s not."

The finality in her voice made Seungcheol’s stomach drop, but he was too proud—too angry—to reach for her. Instead, he turned on his heel, grabbing his jacket. "I have a flight to catch."

Y/N watched as he walked to the door. "Fine. Go."

The door slammed behind him.

The flight to Indonesia felt longer than it should have. Seungcheol sat in his seat, staring blankly at the screen in front of him, but all he could think about was her. The look in her eyes before he left. The way her voice had cracked. The way he had let his anger win instead of fixing things.

His chest ached with regret.

By the time the concert rolled around, he was running on autopilot. His members noticed. His energy was off. His mind wasn’t there. Even as he stood in front of thousands of fans, singing and dancing like he’d done a hundred times before, his heart wasn’t in it. Because his heart was somewhere else.

With her.

When the final song ended and the cheers filled the venue, Seungcheol barely let the sound settle before he rushed backstage. He ignored the cameras, the staff, the lingering adrenaline. He needed to get home.

Y/N had spent the last two days drowning in her own guilt. She hated the way they had left things, hated the last words they had exchanged.

What if something happened to him while he was away? What if those words were the last thing they ever said to each other?

The thought alone had made her sick to her stomach. So, instead of wallowing in regret, she did what she could to make things right. She cleaned the apartment from top to bottom, made sure everything was perfect. And then, she cooked. She made all of Seungcheol’s favorite dishes, the ones he always craved after long flights. Because she knew that he would come back to her.

And then, as if her heart had called out to him, the front door swung open.

Seungcheol stood there, exhausted and breathless, his suitcase slipping from his fingers and hitting the floor with a dull thud. But Y/N didn’t care about that.

She ran to him.

His arms were around her in seconds, crushing her against his chest as if he was afraid she might disappear if he let go. "I'm so sorry," he murmured into her hair. "I shouldn't have left like that. I shouldn't have said what I did."

Tears pricked at her eyes as she buried her face in his shoulder. "I was so worried about you. I hated the way we ended things."

"Me too," he admitted, pulling back just enough to cup her face in his hands. His thumbs brushed over her cheeks, his gaze soft but filled with remorse. "I never want to fight like that again."

She nodded, leaning into his touch. "Me neither."

A small smile tugged at her lips as she grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the kitchen. "Come on, I made your favorite."

Seungcheol's eyes softened even more when he saw the food on the table. "You really made all this?"

She bit her lip, suddenly shy. "I just… I wanted to do something for you."

His heart swelled with affection. "You didn’t have to, but thank you."

They sat down together, the tension of the past few days melting away as they ate. Seungcheol kept reaching for her hand between bites, as if he needed to remind himself that she was still there, that they were okay.

And they were.

Because no matter how bad the fights got, no matter how far apart they were, they always found their way back to each other.

[lc-birdie]

What if nurse!reader likes Dennis but is scared to tell him until she overhears him asking Robby for advice on how to ask her out

For once it was an almost slow day. Holidays always were. Small issues could wait another day and besides some burns from first time holiday cooks there wasn't much for everyone to do. Thanksgiving was just one of those holidays.

It left everyone to try and fill the time as the day dragged along with no patients to distract them. Which led to the current situation, small groups congregating around the Pitt.

You were catching up on charting the last patient, an unfortunate soul who didn't fully defrost their turkey and led to some second and third degree burns up his arms. It wasn't the most entertaining way to pass the time, much preferring to hear the latest updates of the ED from Princess and Perlah. However, it did give you an excuse to avoid a certain Med Student.

Dennis Whitaker. A slow growing friendship that had begun to morph in the last couple of weeks of working together into something more. The flutters of an almost school-age crush that made words unobtainable in those brief moments, heart racing to unhealthy paces, and an inescapable heat up your neck and ears.

The way his eyes always seemed to shine with this glint of anticipation and positivity. The way his face seemed to never show the hard lines of negativity or anger. The small quirk of his lips that would turn into an occasional smile. The little face he would pull when-

"Hey," your train of thought was cut off as your name was called. Donnie walked up to you. "Can you help me clean up this patient real quick?"

"Yea I gotcha." You follow him into the room.

"Alright sir we're all done just hit that light if you need anything." You pull off your gloves as you exit the room, swinging the door behind you. Reaching your hand out to get hand sanitizer you freeze mid motion as you catch the tail end of a sentence.

"-and if you're sure that this is the person for you, take the chance. You only have so much longer in this rotation. Don't hold out and miss your opportunity." It was Robby.

"Yea I just-what if they don't feel the same? I don't want to mess this up..." Almost on cue you crane your head around the corner as Dennis continues, "they're just so cool and like good at what they do. They're just incredible and I'm out of my depth here."

You make eye contact with Robby as he begins to fight back a smile. "Well I think the best thing that you can do is just tell them," he states as he slightly nods his head towards you, over Dennis' shoulder.

His head whips back as his face flushes a bright red. "umm-I-uh..."

"I'll leave you two to it." Robby jokes as he pats Whitaker on the shoulder before making his exit.

"I'm sorry-I didn't umm know you were going to hear that." Dennis admitted as he rubbed the back of his neck.

You smiled at him, grin splitting your face. Reaching forward, you brushed your hand up his arm to where it landed on his bicep. "Well if you really mean it, I'm free after work tomorrow..."

"Yea absolutely I'd love to-its-um-its a date then", he stammered out as he smiled.

[lilacs-stars]

aiming for your heart

this is part 1, read part 2 here! pairing: james hook x fem!reader (requested) (note: reader is glinda the good witch's daughter) SUMMARY: you agree to a tutoring session with your pirate classmate, but things end up taking an...unexpected twist. GENRE: pure fluff, a bit of banter CW: nothing much, just mentions of societal pressures WC: 7.9k (they just keep getting longer...)

A/N: I decided to finally do something cute and fluffy after days of working on dark angsty stuff and this felt like a much-needed breath of fresh air. it was so fun to write, so thanks to the anon who requested this for the fun idea! <3 please give me feedback and suggestions, I'd love to know your thoughts!

Up, swish, circle, flick. Up, swish, circle, flick. Up, swish, cir—

“Ahh, oww!” you cry out as a very solid metal object collides with the side of your skull. Your hand instinctively goes up to the spot on your head—which you can already feel starting to swell—as you wince in pain. 

You’re supposed to throw the ring in the basket, not at my head, idiot, you think to yourself as you grimace. 

“Oh my gosh, Y/N, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to hit you, I swear!” you glance around the room, locking eyes with your classmate just a few tables away, whose wand is still poised in their hand and a bewildered expression planted on their face. “I just can’t seem to control…this gosh darn wand…”

You let out a little sigh, trying your best to not be impatient. After all, you couldn’t expect everyone to be as experienced in this field as you are. 

You glance back at the student, who’s rereading their textbook pages for what’s probably the tenth time. As you watch them struggle, a pang of guilt hits you for being so mean and irritable. It’s not like they were trying to hit you, and even though it was just a thought passing through in the privacy of your mind, you still feel as though thinking something mean like that is wrong. 

You push your chair back and rise from your seat, wand tightly gripped in one hand. Walking over to your classmate’s desk, you give a small smile as you ask them, “Need any help?”

They look up at you with wide eyes. “Oh, yes, please! Enchantment of Magical Objects is literally the hardest class ever!”

You grin again, keeping your demeanor light and friendly, like always. “Okay, so first, you go up, then swish, then circle your wand back around, and finally flick, and then…”

You copy the movements with your own wand as you speak, small magical sparks flickering off it at your gestures. After you complete your little demonstration, you both watch as a hand-sized sleek metal ring, somewhat resembling a circular horseshoe, levitates off the desk and neatly lands in a bucket in the center of the room. 

Today’s assignment in your Enchantment class is to use the Aiming Spell to throw the rings into a bucket. Safe to say, it wasn’t really going well for most of the class. 

“Wow, that was amazing! You’re so good at this Y/N!” your now starry-eyed classmate exclaims. “And I can barely get my rings off my desk…”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get there,” you smile reassuringly. “After all, I’ve had a lot of experience around wands and enchantments.”

“Yeah, I suppose that is right. I guess not everyone can be as talented with magic as the Good Witch’s very own daughter.”

A small laugh escapes your lips, and you bid farewell to your classmate as you make your way back to your seat. They aren’t wrong, after all. Your mother, Glinda, taught you how to use a wand as soon as you could walk. You’ve been watching her use magic for ages, so it’s not a surprise to anyone that you’re top of your class. 

You sit back down, getting back to work. Even though you know you’ve already mastered the spell, you still have some class time left, which you decide to use wisely and continue practicing the spell. 

Staring at the pile of metal rings in front of you, you take a deep breath and begin the task of making each one levitate off your desk and make a perfect arch towards the basket. 

Up, swish, circle, flick. Up—swoosh!

A flying ring shoots straight past your face, barely missing you by only a few inches. You stumble backwards in your chair, quite startled. Still, it isn’t unusual to see objects flying around the classroom, or rather, objects flying where they’re not supposed to.

A moment later, another one whizzes past you again. Then a third, which gets so close to your face that you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Annoyed, your head snaps to your right, trying to figure out who keeps nearly decapitating you. 

You glance around, finally locking eyes with what seems to be the culprit. Chair leaning against the wall, tipped back on its hind two legs, sits a figure with deep brown eyes and smokey eyeshadow look to match. A smirk is planted on his face, a mischievous glint in his gaze. He wears a dark red jacket on top of a black dress shirt, the collar disheveled and his tie loose around his neck. Contrary to his tousled outfit, his medium-length brown hair is neatly slicked back. One of his hands leisurely holds a wand while the other rests behind his head, and combined with the way he has a leg crossed over the other, one would think he’s enjoying a nice day at the beach instead of sitting in class at one of the most prestigious academies in the land.

You fix him with a look, your gaze subconsciously morphing into a glare as he jerks the wand up, causing one of the metal rings in front of him to levitate a few inches off his desk. With a flick of the wrist, he sends it flying across the room once again. Having learned your lesson, this time you duck down, eyes following the disk as it soars across the room. You watch as it shoots straight towards its target, who expertly crouches as the metal ring hits the wall behind him with a thud, falling to the ground and joining the previous disks.

The target of these attacks is a boy you recognize to be a good friend of the ring-throwing troublemaker, with light brown hair brushed away from his forehead and dressed in a dark green shirt with a black choker around his neck. Morgie le Fay shoots a glare across the room to his perpetrator, making a face that could only mean “You’ll pay for this later.”

Another disk comes shooting at his head, and he ducks down yet again. This time, the metal hits the wall so hard, you worry it left a dent. Unable to take their child-like behavior any longer, you get up from your seat for the second time and stomp your way over to the disk-thrower.

“Hook!” you say as you reach his table. The man in question tilts his head towards you, looking up with an amused grin.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, lassie?��� he replies, his accent crisp and unmistakable. 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes at him, knowing it would be terribly rude, even if he was getting on your nerves like no other. You settle for fixing him with another look. “Could you please stop hurling those disks around? It’s not the assignment, and you practically hit me!”

“My apologies, love,” Hook replies, still peering up at you, unbothered. You honestly doubt he means it, so you frown and try again. “I’m being serious, Hook.”

“As am I,” he replies, making you want to smack that stupid smirk off his face. Deep breaths, deep breaths, you remind yourself. Violence is never the answer. You find it funny how you can almost hear your mother’s voice as you repeat those words in your head, the ones she always tells you.

“So you’ll stop?” you ask, raising a brow and putting your hands on your hips to show him you’re not messing around.

“Ah, well, you see,” Hook starts, and it takes every ounce of benevolence in you to not internally combust at whatever excuse he’s planning to come up with. “I’m having a tad bit of trouble with this spell, love. No matter what I do, I simply can’t seem to lock on to the right target.”

At this, you raise your eyebrows again, disbelief laced through your every cell. “Why don’t you give it a go,” you say, jerking your chin towards the basket in the middle of the room. “You never know until you don’t try.”

Hook leans forward in his chair, righting it again so it stands on all four legs. He raises his wand, and if you didn’t know any better, you would think he’s actually concentrating on the task at hand. One of the metal disks rises into the air, levitating a meter above the floor.

Hook flicks his wand forward and the disk sails away, missing the basket in an almost laughable attempt at execution. Instead of the proper target, it lands on the edge of a file cabinet in the far corner of the room. You pray for the poor soul that will inevitably open one of its drawers, only to be smacked in the head by a piece of solid steel.

Eyebrows raised, Hook unabashedly turns back around to face you with that grin of his. “So how was that, love? Satisfied?”

“Not quite,” you huff, shaking your head at him. “Honestly, I haven’t seen anyone make such a…uh, interesting attempt at this assignment.” Deep down, a little part of you really wants to say much meaner things, but you bite back your words, knowing that showing contempt never did anyone any good.

“Interesting, eh?” Hook’s smirk grows, and you can see him already scheming inside that villainous little mind of his. “Say, Y/N”—he uncrosses his legs, leaning in your direction—“you’re the top student of this class, are you not?”

You narrow your eyes at him, but refrain from saying anything you know you’ll later regret. “Yes, and?”

“Well, as you can clearly see here, I require a bit of assistance with this assignment. After all, not everyone grew up waving wands like you,” he quips, flourishing the wand in his hand as if it were an ordinary stick. Abruptly, he stills his movements and drops the wand on his desk, before turning to face you directly, locking eyes. “Would you be so kind as to teach me a few things?”

You quirk your brows, albeit attempting to keep a straight face. “Are you asking me to…tutor you?”

Hook grins yet again. “This evening, 7 o’clock, the common area in the East Wing.” He puts his hand on his knees as he gets up, now leering a few inches above you. Still holding your gaze—although he has to tilt his head down to do so—he asks, “I’ll see you then?”

You blink twice, mind replaying the events that led to you getting yourself stuck in this situation. On the one hand, you definitely don't want to have a one-on-one study session with a villain—and an annoyingly smug one at that. Honestly, the few interactions you are forced to have with him in class are far enough for you. 

But on the other hand, he is asking for help to improve his grades…after all, it’s not every day someone the likes of him shows interest in learning. Plus, you know that it’s not right to turn away a person in need of your help, no matter how insufferable they are. Especially if they’re always flashing you a smile filled with shining white teeth and full, plump pink lips.

A sigh escapes your mouth before you can stop it as you resign yourself to your fate. “Alright, I guess. But come prepared to learn. That means you need your wand, your textbooks, notebo—”

He cuts you off with a passive sweep of his hook, much to your annoyance. Leaning in just a little closer to you, enough to make your palms slightly sweaty, his face tilts down even nearer to yours. “It’s a date, then,” Hook says, his voice soft but still with that teasing tone it always seems to carry.

“It’s not a date!” you call out as the bell rings, but he’s already making his way out of the classroom, sauntering off to do who-knows-what.

Heavens, what have I gotten myself into, you think, placing a hand on your forehead as you breathe out a long, heavy sigh.

The evening rolls around far too quickly for your liking, and before you know it you’re making your way out of your doom room and up a set of stairs.

You keep on thinking about how you had ample time to back out of this arrangement; plus, you would be lying if you said you didn't consider it a number of times. But each time, you remind yourself that you are doing a good deed for someone obviously in need of a good influence. That you have to be selfless and put aside your personal feelings to serve a good cause, as all heroes do. That your opinions don't really matter—after all, the best heroes are the ones who make the deepest sacrifices, right?

So that’s how you find yourself dragging heavy feet across a corridor, a tiny voice in your head begging you to turn around, as you finally reach the common area set as your meetup spot. You glance at your wristwatch, which reads 6:55. You had decided to leave a bit early so you could arrive with a few minutes to spare. As your mother always reminds you, “It’s better to be an hour early than a minute late.”

Pulling out a chair at a nearby two-person table, you sit down, plopping your bookbag next to you. You had stuffed it full of your personal notes, your wand, and several textbooks you thought could help Hook. 

Tapping a pencil on the wooden desk, you sigh, glancing at your clock again. 6:57. Thinking back on your previous decision, you wonder why you left so early. After all, you have Hook down in your mind as the type to be extremely unpunctual. Leaning back in your chair out of sheer boredom, you start to clearly picture Hook showing up a good hour late. Heck, you’d be surprised if he even shows up at all. 

The clock hits 6:59, and you begin to debate how long you’re willing to stay here before giving up and returning to your dorm. Would ten minutes be enough? Fifteen? Thirty? The more you think about it, the more you can imagine this being some sort of elaborate prank to trick you. After all, why would a delinquent villain like Hook ever be interested in planning a tutoring session?

You sigh once again, angry at yourself for being so naive as to fall for his little trick. Drumming your fingers on the table as you put your head down, you mentally punch yourself for your gullibility. 

Which is why you nearly jump out of your own skin at the sound of a loud thud sound from in front of you. You jerk back into your chair, arms flailing as it tips, causing you to nearly topple backwards. With your reflexes kicking in, your hand latches onto the edge of the table—thankfully—and you manage to pull yourself back to a more stable position.

Hand clutching your pounding heart, you roll your head back to be greeted with that stupid little smirk that haunts your thoughts. “I didn’t mean to give you a fright, love. After all, we were planning to meet up, were we not?” Hook says, tone extremely smug and a tiny bit pitiful at your frightened state. 

You raise your arm and flick your wrist, reading the time displayed on your clock. 7:00. He…he showed up exactly on time, you think, praying that your shock isn’t displayed on your face.

As if he can read your mind—and in all honesty, maybe he can—Hook says, “You didn’t doubt me, now, did you, darling? How could I skimp out on our little date?”

“It’s not a date,” you tell him once again, not even trying to hide the annoyance in your voice this time.

“Whatever you say.” Hook gives a little grin as he raises his eyebrows for a second. Before you can continue to argue, he pulls out the chair across from you and sits down. You eye a small black leather satchel that dangles from his hook as he drops it down on the floor. Huh, he even came prepared.

He leans in, arms resting on the table, as he fixes you with a sly grin. “So, Miss Teacher, what are you going to teach me today?”

You hate to pass on the opportunity to make a snarky remark, but you know that rubbing Hook the wrong way is not going to make these next few hours any less sufferable. Instead, you simply go for a “How about you start by getting out your materials?”

“As you wish, m’lady.” An irritated sigh escapes your lips, and you realize you’ve been sighing a lot more than usual ever since you got in this…predicament. You watch, somewhat impatiently, as Hook reaches down and draws a single notebook and his practice wand out of the leather satchel. Glancing at his materials, then back at yours, you realize that you came a lot more prepared than he did, even though you’re not the one trying to learn here. Well, I guess him putting in some effort still better than nothing.

You pull out one of the thick textbooks from your bag, the used animal skin cover peeling at the edges and the pages yellowed from the wear of time. 

“First, we’re going to get started with the theory of enchantments and spells.” You flip through the pages until you land on the first of many detailing the basics of spellcasting. “Even though we’re going to be focusing on the Aiming Spell, the underlying principles are pretty much the same for all spells you use. Now, you see here, highlighted in the chart are the five main…”

You chance a glance over at Hook, voice trailing off when you realize he isn’t listening. In fact, he's not even looking at the textbook placed in the middle of the desk. Instead, his gaze is fixed on…

…you?

“Hey! Why are you staring at me like that, you weirdo!” you exclaim, pulling back from the table. Hook remains unflinching, his chin in his good hand as he stares up at you with a sparkle in his eye. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it, love. You’re just so…so entrancing.”

You blink hard, recoiling at his words. He’s not flirting with you…is he? No, there’s no way. Don’t be overly arrogant, you convince yourself. This is just his personality, how he usually acts. The same way he calls everyone “love” and “darling.” There’s absolutely nothing more to it than him saying anything he can think of to fluster you and throw you off track.

…Right?

You ignore the stupid little flutter your heart does at not just being called pretty, or beautiful, or any of the normal compliments. No, you aren’t normal, you’re entrancing…

Snap out of it! you internally scold yourself. This is just another one of his little antics. You’re just letting him win by getting in your head. 

“Look, I didn’t come here and set aside this chunk of my valuable time to tutor you, only for you to not listen. If you came here to mess around—” you rant, but you’re cut off before you can get everything off your chest.

“I apologize, lassie. I promise, I’ll focus from here on out,” Hook vows. You eye him with a glare, feeling very distrustful, but you’re only met with his rather sincere gaze.

You let out another breath, once again regretting agreeing to this. “Fine. Get out your notebook. You’re going to want to take notes on this.”

Hook nods and reaches into his satchel, which is still lying on the floor. “If I’m being completely honest—which I assume you must hold in high regard, being a hero and whatnot—I really didn’t expect you to be so…irritable.”

You shoot Hook another glare, before realizing that you’re just proving his point. You give a brief roll of your eyes as you attempt a smile. “I’m not usually like this,” you say, fighting to keep a decently pleasant expression on your face. “You just really find a way to, how should I put this, you really—”

“Push your buttons?” Hook finishes for you, raising his eyebrows.

“I was going to say you really find a way to get on my nerves, but that too,” you respond, with obviously forced cheerfulness. “Whatever, we need to get back to studying. For real this time.”

Hook replies with an “Of course, m’lady,” before you begin your lecture again on the foundation of enchantments. This time, he makes sure to periodically glance down at the textbook pages and occasionally nod or ask a question, all to ensure that you don’t catch him staring at you again. Unbeknownst to you, adoration shines bright in his eyes as he studies your features, committing them to memory every time you’re not looking his way.

You spend some time going over theory with Hook, until you can feel him growing restless, causing you to start wondering if people like him have a capacity for how much information they can absorb at one time. Deciding that theory is no good if it’s not put to practice, you slam the textbook shut once you reach the end of a page, standing up.

Hook looks up at you, a slightly startled expression on his face. “Come on,” you say. “Now we’re going to see how much you paid attention by putting your lesson to good use.”

You hope to see a look of fear flash across his face, but his demeanor stays completely even. Feeling a bit let down, you remind yourself that he still has to actually cast the spell. Watch him mess it up, you think. Let’s see how smug he is then, huh?

Reaching down into your bookbag, you pull out a small bundle wrapped in a piece of cloth. You open it to reveal a handful of metal disks, similar to the ones you had used earlier in class. You empty them out on the table before walking over to the middle of the room and placing the cloth down on the floor, a good number of meters away from your table. “This is your target area,” you explain. “Stand by the table and get those rings to land within the borders of the cloth.”

Let’s see how well you fare now, pretty boy.

“Aye, that’s not fair,” Hook says, scrunching his brow as he gestures towards your setup with his hook. “That cloth’s much smaller than the basket we used in class. And the distance is far greater.”

“Well, if you learn how to get the spell right with tougher constraints than the requirement, you’ll be sure to do great for the real thing.” You flash him a wink as you watch his jaw part slightly, an incredulous expression painted on his face. “That’s how I always ace my exams.”

Hook draws in a breath, putting his ever-famous smirk back on his face, although you can feel his unease this time. He picks up his wand, turning around to point it at disks on the table. 

Up. He rolls his hand upwards, and one of the disks starts to levitate a foot in the air.

Swish. Hook jerks his wrist to the side, causing the disk to start gently vibrating with potential energy. 

Circle. He rotates his hand counterclockwise, drawing a circle with the tip of the wand.

Flick. You watch with bated breath as Hook flicks the wand towards the cloth in the middle of the room. 

Both of you follow the disc’s arc through the air with tense anticipation, as it soars, soars…

…and ends up missing the cloth by a good three feet.

Hook gives a small, halfhearted laugh, trying to keep up the suave facade. Yet you notice the way his shoulders slump forward, the way his body stiffens in an embarrassing shock. 

Part of you feels a wickedly twisted satisfaction at his failure—but as soon as you recognize it for what it is, you shove it away, repulsed at the thought of you even coming close experiencing such an emotion. Plus, the majority of you feels rather disappointed at the undesirable outcome. Whether it’s Hook’s chagrin rubbing off on you, or the voice in your head whispering that you, as his teacher, failed at your job, you can’t help but feel a bit let down at his messing up.

“Hey, it’s fine. Let’s try again,” you say softly, your usual eager-to-help manner coming back at the sight of someone needing comforting.

And so, Hook tries again. And again. And again.

Finally, after the seventh or eighth try, he puts the wand back down on the table. “I don’t know what to tell you, love. No matter how hard I try, it’s simply not working.” You sigh, looking at the floor before you, which was now littered with disks. “Hey, at least you got closer each time! That’s still progress.” You attempt to raise his spirits a bit, but he just fixes you with a look that tells you he’s not one to fall for your false positivity.

“Uhm…” You hesitate, not quite sure what to do next or how to fix this. “How about you see how I do it, and try to copy that?”

Hook gives a small nod and you fish out your wand, pulling up your sleeves and taking a deep breath to prepare. Focusing on one of the disks on the table, you start the particular movements. Up. Swish. Circle. Flick!

Both of you watch in somewhat astonishment as the ring curves perfectly through the air, flying with grace, as it lands directly in the center of the cloth.

Hook looks at you with raised eyebrows. Although that little part of you wants to rub it in his face, the fact that a hero, out of all people, bested him, you decide that torturing him with your teasing is only going to make him less likely to get the spell right.

“You see that? Now, try to copy it yourself,” you instruct.

And so, Hook makes a few more attempts, landing closer to the cloth each time, now only a couple inches away—yet never actually making contact with it.

You study his movements carefully as he casts the spell, trying to figure out what he’s doing wrong. After a few more of his failed attempts, you decide to try a different approach.

“Okay, watch me do it again, but this time come hold my wand from behind so you can get a feel for how I cast it,” you say, glancing up at Hook. “After all, it’s all in the wrist.” You recite a line your mother always says, one that often replays in your mind as you cast a spell. In your opinion, her guidance is the main reason that you’re so good at spells.

You’re still sitting down in your chair, pushing it in a little to provide room for him to come up behind you and reach your wand. 

You were expecting Hook to get rather close; after all, there aren’t many ways for two people to hold the same wand in the position you were in without a tight proximity. What you weren’t expecting was the way he comes up from behind you leisurely, deliberately. The way his chest presses into your back as he leans in, arm brushing against yours as he extends it towards the wand. The way you can feel his exhales on your skin, breathing down your neck—literally—causes goosebumps to rise up and down your arms. The way his natural aroma engulfs you completely, overwhelming your senses all at once. How his large hand feels on yours as he places it on top, curling his fingers around the wand—and yours, as well. The way you can feel the smirk dancing on his face, looking down at you with what you expect to be half-lidded eyes. 

And the way your heart races, good heavens. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought you just ran a marathon. Your body simultaneously heats up and freezes at his touches, no matter how small, your mind becoming overly aware of every point of contact you have with him. You fight against the overstimulation flooding your senses, resisting the urge to wipe your sweaty palms on your legs, while hoping that the wand doesn’t slip out of your hand as perform the incantation. 

Truth be told, although you definitely won’t admit this to anyone: you really haven’t had much experience with romance, or anything of the sorts. All your life, you’ve focused on doing good deeds and keeping up with your studies, aiming to be the best of the best in the hero world. Which is probably why no boy has ever taken interest in you; instead of going to dances or out on dates, you've always spent your Friday nights locked away in your room, studying hard to make sure you ace your exams. Plus, with your goody-two-shoes streak, you aren't exactly the most sought-out person in your class.

Which is why with the way Hook flirts with you, and now, the way you can feel his inhales and exhales against your skin—subconsciously trying to match the rhythm of his breathing—your brain is short-circuiting. The lack of romantic attention you’ve received your whole life is behind why you don't know how to react to Hook's antics, while still internally freaking out at his movements and words.

You inhale a shaky breath, trying to steady your quivering hand and hope that Hook doesn’t notice your reaction. But after the amused little hum he gives, your embarrassment grows by the second. Trying your best to focus on the task at hand, you say, “Okay, here goes.”

Up. You feel Hook’s grip tighten around your hand, just a little bit but still enough to make your heart skip a beat.

Swish. The disk vibrates with extreme intensity, to the point where you’re afraid it’ll break apart, despite the metal structure.

Circle. As you circle your wrist around, you feel Hook’s arm rub against yours even more, causing your breath to hitch in your throat. Gods, the things this man is doing to you.

Flick. You flick the wand towards the cloth yet again, jerking your head sideways to follow it as it flies across the room. Agonizing in how it ignites every nerve in your body, you feel Hook’s head brush against the top of yours as he follows your movements, watching the disk soar.

It seems, for a minute, as if it’s going to land right on top of the previous one. But to both your shocks, it falls just outside the borders of the cloth, barely touching the edge.

Your face absolutely burns in embarrassment, palms dripping with sweat now. Hook tilts his head towards yours—which you feel all too well—as he says, far closer to your ear than you would’ve liked, “Well, it seems like even the master makes mistakes, love.”

Fuming, you finally give into the urge and drop the wand to wipe your hands on your clothes. Screw him, you mentally curse. It’s all his fault. I’ve never messed up this spell before.

And as much as you want to blame him, you know that it’ll do you absolutely no good to tell him the fact that he was so close to you made your brain short-circuit to such an extent that you messed up a spell you could do since you were five.

You shake your head, refusing to accept your failure. “No, I…I don’t know what happened. It must have been a faulty disk. Just…I’m going to try again.”

Hook raises his eyebrows at you—or at least, you’re pretty sure he does, as you can’t see him from behind. You grab your wand again, and without even telling him to do so, Hook leans in and places his hand back over yours, your fingers trapped between his and the wand.

Internally, you find yourself growing impossibly more annoyed at him. Honestly, did he really have to go back to that position, the one that made you mess up the spell in the first place? You take a deep, steadying breath, forcing away all thoughts of Hook and how his dark brown eyes, beautiful and rich like the bark of the trees back in Oz, are boring into your skull right now. You simply can’t afford to get distracted again. Messing up the spell once is one thing—sure, everyone makes mistakes, don’t they? But twice? It would be absolutely inexcusable.

Twice would mean that you are not as adept as you thought you were, not talented enough in the one thing that you've been sure of for your whole life.

Remember the words.

Up, swish, circle, flick!

Fueled by your self-directed rage, you ensure that every movement you make is precise, sharp, and without a single tremor going through your hand. This time, the disk slices through the air with a clean, aerodynamic curve, and lands…

…right on top of your first one.

You beam, regaining your former confidence in your spellcasting abilities.

“The master may sometimes make mistakes, but they’re still the master,” you gloat. “Now come on, you need to practice till you get as good as that.”

You and Hook spend quite some time on practicing the spell, with you giving him pointers and him—surprisingly—improving. It seems as though your hands-on demonstration really helped him, as his skills greatly improved. 

Soon, in every set of ten rings he practiced on, he was consistently getting six or seven of them within the boundaries of the cloth, with one or two more landing on the edge, half-in. 

After one round where he managed to get nine of the disks touching the cloth—his personal best so far—you decide he needs something even more challenging.

“Woah, that was a really good round,” you praise. Hook turns to face you, and if you didn’t know any better, you would say that his normal smirk seems a little less snarky and a little more…genuine. 

“Still not as good as you, though, love,” Hook replies. You can tell he’s trying hard to maintain his nonchalant front, especially when it comes to academics, but the pride in his eyes and the earnest grip on his wand tell a different story. Honestly, you like him better this way. Less of him pretending to be a bad boy villain, and more of his real personality.

And in this moment, as you subtly study his features and think about his change in behavior over the past few hours, a thought that’s never even come close to crossing your mind suddenly pops up. What if villains, just like heroes, feel pressured to uphold a certain facade? The same way that you’ve always felt like you just have to be good, no matter the cost, no matter how hard it is for you, maybe villains feel the same way. Maybe they believe they always have to be bad, troublesome, and cruel. Even if that’s not who they truly are.

And through the lens of your new insight, you start seeing Hook in a different light. Just like how you feel as if being good and helpful and cheery all the time is a burden, how sometimes you wish you could just let loose and be selfish, maybe villains feel like being evil is a burden. Maybe Hook feels compelled to act smug and suave, even though that isn’t who he truly feels like being all the time. 

You begin to feel a deep sense of guilt for judging him based on his demeanor and criticizing his performance in class. Reflecting back, you realize that you had been unnecessarily harsh on him for something that is likely beyond his control. Gosh, I'm such an idiot, you think, shame burning your cheeks.

Shaking off your remorse, you put on another bright smile and try to respond as cheerfully as possible. “Hey, it’s still a huge improvement from sending the rings flying on top of a filing cabinet in the corner of the room. Or at innocent bystanders’ heads!” This time, you don’t encourage him because you feel pressured to do so, or because that’s who you know you’re supposed to be. You do it because deep down, in your heart, it’s what you feel like saying.

“Hmm, true,” Hook replies, angling his head to the side as he considers your point, the smallest of smiles still dancing on his lips.

“Now, for your final test.” At your statement, Hook raises a brow. “You need something different, something truly challenging. Something to prove your mastery of the Aiming Spell…”

You rack your brain for ideas, but nothing comes to mind. After a moment in silence, Hook speaks up. “I may have an idea.”

Glancing over at him, rather surprised—you were the teacher, after all—you gesture for him to go on. 

“Go stand over there by that wall,” he instructs, motioning with his hook to the wall opposite you two. “And put your hands up.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, fixing him with a look of wariness and doubt. You don’t move for a second, still too distrusting of him as you try to imagine what standing in that position has to do with casting a spell. Noticing your hesitation, Hook nods towards the wall again. “Well, go on, love.”

Still suspicious of him, you cave in and walk over to the far side of the room. Pressing your back against the wall as you raise your hands up, the position makes you feel as if you've just been caught red-handed in the midst of a crime. Hook still stands by the table, waiting patiently. You try to think back to the textbook pages you went over with him, wondering if you had accidentally taught him some sort of attack charm that he was planning to use on you.

Feeling your anxiety build, you wriggle your left fingers, wrapping your thumb and middle finger around the base of your pointer. You always wear a special, very pretty ring on that hand, a gift your mother gave to you a few years ago. Fiddling with it while twisting it around and around helps to soothe you, especially when you feel nervous.

But this time, when you go to repeat the same movement you always do, you feel the absence of the familiar metal surface and engravings etched into it. Glancing up at your hand, you confirm that your ring is indeed missing. The only trace of its former presence is the two parallel, circular indents in your skin from wearing it for so long.

Your panic skyrockets now at the loss of one of your favorite possessions, practically forgetting about Hook and the unease that accompanied his bizarre request. That ring had come with a special message; the night you got it, your mother had told you, “Remember when you were younger, and I told you that people are either good or bad? Well, that’s not quite true. No one is really black or white. We’re all just shades of gray. Some people are lighter gray, and some people are darker gray. And although we might be different shades, we all fall under the same color. Remember that, Y/N.”

And you have remembered it. Every time you go to toy with your ring, those words echo in your mind. Your mom had embedded the ring with a marble featuring a swirl of many different shades of gray, a reminder of the message that came along with it. You were too young to truly understand her words back then, but now, especially in these recent moments, you think you’re starting to fully grasp what she meant.

Snapping back to the present, you realize the serious problem you have at hand. “My ring!” you cry. “I could have sworn I had it when I came here…”

“Looking for this?” Hook’s smirk is back in full force. His left arm is raised, and on the crest of his polished metal hook, your precious ring glimmers under the golden lights projected from the ceiling.

“You…! When did you even…” your voice trails off as your mind catches up to your mouth. It must have been when he leaned in, while you were demonstrating the spell. That was the only time he had gotten close enough to you, although you don’t know how in the world he nicked it off your finger without you having the slightest hint.

Then you remember, quite painfully, how flustered you had been in that moment. If you were so distracted that you couldn't even cast a simple spell right, then you certainly wouldn’t have had enough brainpower to notice a skilled thief steal from you.

“Hey! Give that back!” you exclaim, huffing angrily, a frown etched deep into your face.

“I will, darling,” Hook replies smugly. “Now, raise your hands up again. And don’t wiggle your fingers around this time.”

“Give me my ring back first!” you demand, your previous annoyance towards him coming right back.

“Let me do this first, and then you’ll get your ring. Hands up.” At your glare, Hook tilts his head to the side and gives you a look. “Don’t you trust me?”

Well, of course not, is the first thought that pops into your mind. You’re a liar and a thief, and above all, a villain.

But then you remember your mother’s words, your earlier revelation and how, just for a moment, you glimpsed Hook through a different light. So, although you definitely won't go as far as saying that you trust him, you still empathize with him enough to give in to his request.

Wordlessly, you raise your hands back up to your sides, palms facing in front of you, while fighting the urge to fidget again. You debate whether or not it’d be best to close your eyes for this, but you ultimately decide that if Hook does try to pull any more of his little tricks, all your senses should be sharp and aware.

And so you stand, frozen, as Hook raises the wand. For a second, you think he’s going to cast the spell on you. But instead, he uses his good hand to remove the ring from where it’s stuck in his hook, instead placing it dangling from the tip. He points his wand at the ring, repeating the maneuvers you two practiced so many times.

Up. The ring lifts off his hook and levitates just in front of him.

Swish. It starts vibrating like the disks, but due to its small size, your cherished ring begins to rotate on its axis.

Circle. With Hook’s circular movement of the wand, the ring’s spinning accelerates, locking on to its target—whatever that is.

Flick. For one final time, Hook flicks his wrist, this time towards you.

You watch, your heart pounding as fast as ever, as the ring—your ring—curves through the sky as it falls, getting closer and closer to you. You slam your eyes shut for just a beat, unable to bear the anticipation, before remembering your earlier rationale again.

Eyes flying open instantly, you regain your vision just as the ring falls, falls, falls, landing…

…directly on your finger.

But not the finger that you previously wore it on. Your eyes widen again in disbelief as it slips perfectly around your ring finger.

“Uh…I…uhm…” you stammer, confused and shocked and overwhelmed with far too many things at once to form a coherent sentence. How in the world did he cast such a precise Aiming Spell, in a situation where it wouldn’t have succeeded had he been even a centimeter off? And if he was so precise with his location pinpointing, then why in the world did he put it on your left ring finger??

“Come on, spit it out, love,” Hook replies teasingly. “You can say it, don’t be afraid.”

Your mind is working far too hard for you to shoot him a glare, but you mentally do it anyway. “That was…impressive,” you finally admit, although you wish you didn’t when Hook’s smug grin grows twice as wide. Ugh, his ego is already big enough. I did not need to inflate it like that.

“Could you always cast the spell that well?” you ask, still stunned at his precision. You honestly couldn’t see how anyone who had been sending disks flying all across the room a mere few hours ago was now casting spells with the accuracy of someone who had been doing this for years.

“Why, of course not. You saw how I was earlier.” Hook’s grin grows even wider as he adds, “It’s all because I had a wonderful teacher.”

You still frown at him skeptically, walking back towards the table where he stands. “I highly doubt it’s because of that. I mean, I don’t know if even I could pull something like that off with such little practice.”

At this, Hook gives a little laugh. “What do they say, the student exceeds the teacher?”

You roll your eyes at him. “No, they call it ‘beginner’s luck.’ You should be happy you got it right this time, because you might not get so lucky on your exams.”

Hook grins again, and as much as you detest the pleasure he gets from teasing you—and though you’d never admit it—a small, dark gray part of you enjoys the playful banter between you two.

“That’s why I have you, darling. If I ever need more help, I’ll know who to run to.” He leans in close to you, so close, until his mouth is right next to your ear. You start having flashbacks to your previous experiences with Hook being in a close proximity, and the combined feelings from both your memories and his current actions causes your body to heat up in a way you didn’t even know was possible. 

He tilts his head down ever so slightly towards you, his lips feathering across your ear. “And you won’t be able to get out of helping me, my little goody-goody.”

Your mind is absolutely spinning at his words, his touch, his presence, his everything. You desperately struggle to formulate some sort of response, but just as you open your mouth, ready to question his choice of ring placement, a deep, low horn sounds, reverberating off the walls.

Curfew.

Hook breaks away from you as you glance down at your wristwatch. The clock shows exactly 10:00. Gods, how did the time pass by so quickly?

You glance back up at Hook, deciding to ignore the way he so alluringly whispered in your ear just seconds ago. “Well, uh, we have to get going, then,” you awkwardly say, scratching at your neck.

Hook stands there for a moment, staring at you whilst completely motionless, making you wonder what he’s thinking and what he’s planning to do. Just as you’re about to bid him a goodnight and turn away, he reaches his good hand out, grabbing your left one. He holds it delicately in his hand, his palm cupped upwards with your fingers resting gently on top.

Slowly, and while keeping his head up just enough to maintain eye contact with you the entire way down, he bends into a bow in front of you. Only does he avert his gaze when he finally reaches your hand, looking down at your ring, which still sits on your ring finger, as he places a kiss on the bright stone.

He peers back up at you, deep brown eyes wide and expressive.

“Until we meet again, m’lady.”

on to part 2! ->

taglist: @4ng3l-ch1ld @astrynyx @0strawberrysorbet0

just leave a comment if you want to be added to the taglist!

a/n: the demons I had to fight to not name this "if you like it then you shoulda put a ring on it" haha. anyways thanks for reading!

do not plagiarize, translate, remake, or copy my works, including my writing and images, in any way.

[letstalkaboutfandomsbaby]

╔══•.·.☆.·.♥︎.·.☆.·.•══╗

buff guy

╚══•.·.☆.·.♥︎.·.☆.·.•══╝

ʚ Part 5 ɞ

❥ CW: chubby fem reader x buff guy, LOTS of dialogue, a little bit on innuendo

❥ A/N: hello!! This chapter got LONG sksksk but it was fun to write and I hope you all enjoy it!!

You go to work as usual on Monday. The day is normal, save for the several texts you receive from Guy throughout the day. It's on your break when you're finally able to see all of them.

Guy: Hi

Guy: It's me

Guy: 1 Attachment

Guy: This was my breakfast

Guy: Do you like photos of food? Would you like me to send more of them?

Guy: 1 Attachment

Guy: This was my lunch

Guy: I hope you are just busy with work and are not ignoring me. That would hurt.

Guy: Please let me know when you get this

"Jesus Christ," your coworker says, scrolling through the messages again. "He's clingy. The food does look good though."

"What should I say?" you ask.

"Well, I would say 'hi', and then maybe 'I am at work, I can't talk right now', and then maybe 'I will text you later'."

You sigh, taking your phone back and writing him what your coworker suggested.

Guy: I understand. Can we talk tonight? I would enjoy speaking with you on the phone

Y/N: Sure, we can talk tonight. Maybe we can chat while I make dinner

Guy: I would like that

You put your phone away, taking it out again once you get home.

Y/N: Hey, I'm home if you want to call

Almost immediately after you send the text, your phone rings, 'Buff Guy' showing up on your screen. You bite your lip, flicking the 'answer' button.

"Hello?"

"Hey." His voice is so deep over the phone, making you shiver. "How was your day?"

"It was fine. Nothing exciting happened. What about you?" He sighs.

"It was boring. I hated it." You hum.

"The mystical life of a CEO, huh?" He chuckles and your stomach flips delightfully.

"Yeah, exactly." The two of you go quiet before he clears his throat. "I... I missed you today." You arch your brow.

"Oh really?" He hums in agreement.

"So much."

"Hmm."

"Did you miss me?" he asks. You pause, thinking.

"Actually, yeah. I did. I missed seeing you when you come in for coffee. I missed making your drink like usual. I spent all day making dumb cream-chinos and lattes."

His breathing turns heavy. You can even hear him swallow.

"Guy? You okay?"

"Yeah, uh... I'm really sorry but I need to go."

"Need to go? Already? We've only been talking for five minutes."

"I know, I'm sorry but... something's come up."

You pout, but you're thankful that he wasn't there to see your sad expression.

"Okay, I understand."

"Wait."

"Mm-hm?"

"Can we please talk tomorrow? I'm sorry for cutting things short tonight, but I promise tomorrow will be different."

"Hmm... okay. But don't make this a habit."

"I promise I won't. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Okay."

"Goodnight."

"Night."

You pull the phone away from your ear, hitting the 'hang up' option. You find yourself alone, disappointed that your call couldn't go on longer than you wanted.

The next day, Guy calls again around the same time.

"Hi."

"Hey, Guy."

"I'd like to apologize again for last night." You hear shuffling on the other end of the line. "I didn't want to end the call so suddenly, but I had things to attend to."

"It's okay."

"What are you up to?"

"Well, I was going to make dinner."

"What will you make?"

"Baked spaghetti," you say with a smile.

"That sounds really good."

"Mm, well, maybe if you play your cards right, I can make it for you some day."

"I would be honored." You laugh, pulling out a pot.

"Hold on, I gotta get some water. I'm gonna put you down for a bit."

"Okay."

You place the phone on the counter, beside the sink. You fill the pot with water, taking it to the stove and turning the stove on. You picked your phone back up again.

"Hey, I'm back."

"I missed you." You snicker.

"It was, like, two minutes max."

"I still missed you." You hum, waiting for the pot to boil.

"So, what exactly do you do as a CEO?" He grunts.

"Nothing important. I mostly hire people and encourage them to actually do their job right."

"Ah, okay. So why did you have a business trip?"

"I am hiring an executive to represent our company in this city, so I'm interviewing people this week."

"Ooooh."

"It's all very boring. Tell me about your day." You scoff, grabbing the spaghetti from the pantry.

"It wasn't anything special. Just made drinks, like usual."

"Was anyone mean to you?"

"No, everyone was nice. The crockety old man who comes in for an extra-dry cappuccino made with almond milk was actually pretty decent today. Apparently today is his anniversary."

"Oh, that's nice. How long has he been married?"

"I didn't care enough to ask."

He laughs, deep. It makes you smile as you add the pasta to the water.

"What did you eat today?" he asks.

"Hmm, I had two coffees at work and..." You think for a moment. "Oh! Yeah, I ate half a sandwich from the shop next door. I'm saving the other half for lunch tomorrow."

"That doesn't sound like much."

"It wasn't, but I wasn't that hungry."

"Please take care of yourself," he continues, "at least while I'm not there."

"What are you, my dad?" There's a pause on the other end of the line.

"Do you want me to be?"

"Oh my god, WHAT??" Your eyes are wide, staring into your living room. "Are you being serious right now? Please tell me you're not being serious."

Laughter erupts on the other end of the line and you groan.

"You're fucking with me, huh?"

"Exactly."

"Fuck you."

"Some day you will."

"EXCUSE ME?! HELLO?! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU'RE SPEAKING TO?!" He laughs again, louder this time and you growl. "If you keep this up, I'm just gonna hang up."

"Haha, no, no, I'm sorry. I'll stop." You sigh, pressing your cool hand against your warm cheek.

"What did you eat today?" He hums in thought.

"I had egg whites for breakfast with some avocado. I had a turkey burger for lunch. And then for dinner I had salmon and a salad."

"Hm. Can I be honest with you?"

"Always."

"That sounds boring as hell." He laughs at that.

"How so?"

"Egg whites? Turkey? Salmon? Where's the fun in that? Eat some carbs."

"The turkey burger came with a bun."

"And I bet it was whole wheat, huh?"

His silence answers your question and makes you laugh hard, throwing your head back.

"Oh my god, I'm right aren't I? Oh my god, that's so funny."

"You're very smart, you know that?" You hum, pulling the spaghetti sauce and shredded cheese from the fridge.

"I'm just good at predicting things."

"And yet you couldn't comprehend that I like you?" You pout.

"That's different."

"Not really." You hear some fumbling and a distant sigh. "I'm sorry, my coworker is calling me. Can I call you back?"

"Yeah, sure. I gotta put my spaghetti in the oven anyways."

"Alright. I'll talk to you soon."

"Bye."

You hang up, sliding the phone across the counter. You strain your cooked pasta, adding sauce before pouring it into a glass dish and covering it with a layer of mozzarella cheese. You put it in the oven for thirty minutes.

Guy: I'm sorry. My coworker got so drunk that now they're sick. I have to attend to them. Can I call you tomorrow?

Y/N: Yeah, that's fine :(

Guy: I'm so sorry about this. Please believe me when I say I would much rather be talking with you than dealing with a puking coworker

Y/N: I understand. Goodnight

Guy: Goodnight

You eat your baked spaghetti in silence.

Wednesday comes and goes, but before you can go to bed, Guy calls you.

"Hey," he begins, "I'm sorry about last night. I hope you can forgive me."

"I guess I can. It was just lonely." You hear him sigh deeply.

"I am so, so sorry for doing that to you, Y/N. I'm so sorry I put you through that. I hate disappointing you."

"You've only done it a couple times so far," you admit.

"I know, and each time is torture."

Silence fills the line before you hear him shuffling on the other end.

"Are you done with me?" he asks. You sigh heavily.

"No. I just need to lower my expectations, I guess."

"Please don't," he pleads. "I promise this isn't normal for me. I don't want you to ever feel like you're settling with me. I want to give you everything you want and need, I want to make you the happiest woman in the world, I—"

"You know," you interject him, sitting up in bed, "you're much more talkative over the phone." You hear him huff.

"It's easier to tell you how I feel when I don't have to face you."

"That's really weird."

"I know," he sighs. "I just... you know, my throat closes up when I'm around you. I feel like I'm going crazy when you're in front of me, especially when I smell you or see you smile. I feel like I'm losing my mind."

You cross your legs into a sitting position.

"Keep going," you say, and he takes a deep breath.

"When I first saw you, I thought I had met an angel. My feelings cemented themselves almost immediately. And then you smiled at me and took my order and your voice was so sweet."

"Are you attracted to me?"

"Immensely."

"In what way?"

"Do you want details or should I be generic and just say you're beautiful?"

"Details."

You hear a deep breath, then a sigh.

"You're radiant," he begins. "You're starlight. I look at you and I see a goddess. Your hair, your eyes, don't get me started on your body."

"Talk about my body."

You hear him swallow.

"Have you seen yourself? You're gorgeous. I love your body, your curves. I can't stop staring at you no matter how hard I try. I..."

"You what?"

"...I think about you, a lot, late at night. I want you so badly sometimes it makes me feel insane."

"You want me... sexually?"

"Isn't is obvious?"

"You're hard to read." He chuckles.

"You know, I get that a lot, actually."

"Gee, I wonder why." He laughs louder.

"I like how sarcastic you are. It's cute."

"Be honest with me." He goes silent as you speak. "Are you interested in me just because you want to fuck me?"

"No," he says sternly. "I could never have you in just that way. I need all of you, every last bit. I want to make you mine."

"Ah, so you're possessive."

"Only of you."

You glance at your clock, realizing the time.

"Oh, shoot. I'm sorry, I gotta go, it's getting late. I gotta open tomorrow."

"I understand. Can we continue this conversation tomorrow?"

"Sure, if you want."

"You say that a lot, you know that?" You pause.

"Does it bother you?"

"No, but I don't want you to do things just because I want to. I want you to do the things that you want to do."

"Trust me, I do. I'm just trying to be considerate."

"I appreciate that." You hear shuffling on the line. "I'll let you go. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Guy."

You hung up, plopping back down into bed, snuggling into your sheets after plugging in your phone. You think about Guy, about the things he said, as you drift off to sleep.

Thursday seems to go by slower than the rest of the week, probably because you were opening. Guy doesn't text you very much either, which you find disappointing.

You initiate the call tonight.

"Hello."

"Hey."

"Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, everything's fine. I just wanted to talk to you."

He gives a breathless laugh.

"Really? You did? You're not fucking with me?"

"No, I'm not fucking with you."

"Wow..."

"What's 'wow'?"

"I'm just... I thought I was annoying you. I didn't expect you to want to talk to me. I felt like you were doing it just to be nice, not because you really wanted to."

"Oh..." You think for a moment. "I'm sorry I gave you that impression, Guy."

"It's okay. I was the one who assumed you weren't actually into me." He clears his throat. "You... are into me, right?"

"Surprisingly, yes."

"'Surprisingly'? What does that mean?"

"Well, I thought you'd be shallow and selfish, because I assumed all gym guys were like that, but you're pretty down to Earth. You're sincere."

"Do you—"

"Yes, Guy. I like it." He chuckles.

"You know me so well already."

"I know some of you."

"I want you to know all of me one day. I want you to know me in your bones."

You gulp, clearing your throat.

"Well, aren't you the romantic."

"Can I ask you something?"

"What?"

"What do you like about me?"

You don't expect the question, but you think about it regardless.

"Well... I've told you before, but you're very handsome. I like your muscles. You're strong, so you can protect me from big scary monsters." He laughs, and it makes you smile. "I like your laugh, and the way you smile. I like that you're straight-forward, because I need that sometimes. I'm not always the brightest."

"Don't say that. You're very smart."

"I didn't realize you liked me for the longest time."

"That doesn't mean you're not smart. I don't like when you talk like that."

You huff, rolling your eyes.

"Say you're sorry."

"What?"

"Say you're sorry to yourself."

You glance around the room.

"I'm... sorry?"

"That wasn't very convincing."

"What is this? 2nd grade? Why are you—"

"Y/N."

You sigh, tossing your head back and staring at the ceiling for a moment before recovering.

"I'm sorry for not being nice to myself."

"Good. Thank you."

"Are you done parenting me now?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Good. I don't need to be scolded anymore tonight."

"I wasn't scolding you."

"Sure, Dad."

"That's 'Daddy' to you."

"OH MY GOD, NO, STOP." He's laughing, loudly. You imagine him throwing his head back, a hand coming to his chest to steady himself.

"Messing with you is so fun." You grumble.

"Meanie."

"Aw, don't be like that. It's all in good fun."

"I know, I know."

The two of you go quiet again. You yawn audibly.

"Tired?"

"Yeah. I was up so early today."

"I'll let you get some sleep. I hope you have a good day tomorrow."

"Thank you."

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

"So what exactly are we?" you ask as you answer the phone on Friday night.

"What happened to 'hello'?"

"Please just answer me."

"I thought we were dating."

"Like, exclusively?" He pauses.

"Have you been seeing other men?"

"No, hell no. Have you been seeing other women?"

"Of course not."

"Then are we exclusive?"

Silence, again.

"I'd like to be," he whispers. You twist your mouth before pouting to yourself.

"I'd like it too." You hear him exhale.

"Then we're on the same page."

"I guess so."

"Y/N?"

"Yes?"

"I wanted to ask you properly in person, but I'll ask now: will you be my girlfriend? Exclusively?"

You feel butterflies in your stomach. God, you felt like a teenager again.

"Yes. I'll be your girlfriend." You hear him grunt, and you twist your face in thought. "What was that?"

"Oh, uh... I did a fist-bump."

You laugh, loud and joyful, and he laughs too.

"Alright, boyfriend. Tell me about your day."

"Ugh, it was boring. I found the proper candidate and offered them the job, but they haven't replied yet. They're going to say yes, but I hate having to wait to make everything official."

"I would hate to have your job."

"Thanks. That makes me feel so much better."

"I'm sorry!" you giggle. "I would just hate to be at the top of a company and have to make all these big decisions and being bored."

"Congratulations. You just summed up my whole job." You laugh again, and you imagine him smiling. "Tell me about your day."

"Ah, it was fine. I have tomorrow off which is nice. I'll sleep in and hang out at home and just relax." He hums.

"Can I take you out tomorrow?"

"Hmm, where you wanna take me?"

"Honestly?"

"Yes, honestly."

"I'd like to go with you to the gym." You furrow your brow.

"The gym? Why the gym? Are you trying to tell me to lose weight?"

"God, no. I like you the way you are. But I like the gym and I would like to spend time with you doing something I enjoy."

"Did you not enjoy dinner or the movie?"

"I did, I did. Please don't get the wrong idea. I just... the gym is a big part of my life and I want to enjoy it with someone I care about. It would be a lot more fun than going alone."

"Hm. I guess I can see where you're coming from. But I'm not going to the gym to 'lose weight'. I'm gonna go there to take care of my health. Got it?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Good. What time were you thinking?"

"Well, I usually go in the morning before work, but if you want to sleep in we can go a little later, since I also don't work tomorrow."

"Soooo what time?"

"What time do you want to go?" You hum.

"Maybe after ten. I'd like to sleep in until at least nine thirty."

"How about you wake up at ten and I pick you up at ten thirty?"

"Oh my god, that would be perfect."

"Good. Can I take you to lunch afterward?"

"I would like that."

"Where would you like to go?"

"Hmmm, I wanna go somewhere to get a sandwich. Do you know any good places?"

"I know just the place."

"Awesome. Sandwich city, here I come." He chuckles at that.

"Are you going to get ready for bed soon?"

"Oh, I'm already ready for bed. Just need to turn off the light and I'll go to sleep."

"Sounds nice. I need to finish unpacking and then I'll get ready for bed."

"Would you like me to let you go so you can unpack?"

"...Not really. I wish I could just talk to you forever."

"Talking to you this week has actually been really nice. You're fun to talk to."

"Thank you."

The line goes quiet before you yawn.

"Someone's sleepy."

"Can't help it! I'm all snuggled into bed."

"Hm, then I'll let you go. Then you can sleep and I'll pick you up in the morning."

"Okie dokie artichokie." He laughs.

"Alright. I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Guy."

You hang up the phone and plug it in, turning out the light and rolling over.

[lisacameron99]

Second (JJ x reader) (outer banks)

warning: angst, fighting, fluff, fluffy ending, feelings of insecurity, nakedness but no sex, illusions to sex

“I’m late, I know I’m late,” JJ said, rushing into the house. You stayed silent. There wasn’t much to say. “You’re soaked… did you walk?”

“Yeah, JJ. I didn’t want to stay on The Cut all night.” You deadpanned.

“Why didn’t you call somebody?”

“I did JJ! I called you! Pope! Kie! Johnny! Even Sarah. But nobody answered. Too busy helping John B find dad!”

“… Y/N…” JJ said, guilt swimming in his eyes.

“I mean, God, JJ. I don’t think I asked a lot when I asked you to pick me up.” JJ swallowed hard. He knew he fucked up. He knew he did. But they were so close on finding Big John, “And you don’t have anything to say because you know I’m right.” There was a beat of silence. “I’m going to shower. You should go back to Johnny, because he clearly needs you more than you think I need you.”

“Babe,” JJ ran a hand through his hair and over his jaw.

“Just - just - don’t.” You were growing more frustrated. “I’m going to take a shower.” You dragged yourself to the bathroom, piling you clothes by the sink. Stepping into the shower, you had it on the hottest setting your body could handle. The water pressure wasn’t the best, but you loved your little shower. Tears ran down your face, but you knew JJ wasn't going to be able to tell the difference between the tears and the water when it was on your face.

You prolonged your shower, longer than you normally would have, just so you could think everything through. Johnny was just going to have to suck it up and pay the water bill. JJ was sitting on the toilet, fiddling with his hat. He just wanting to be near you. You knew he did it as much for himself as he did you. You both thrived on both quality time and physical touch.

He handed you your towel when you opened the old curtain. “Thanks,” you muttered, squeezing your hair out and watching the drops hit the floor. You wrapped the towel around your body, drying yourself off.

You guys both made your way to the room you shared, and JJ threw an old shirt of his at you. Because you weren’t paying attention, it hit you smack in the face and fell on the floor. You stared at it before looking back to JJ. Your e/c met his blue and you both burst into laughter. JJ snagged it off the ground and pulled it over your head. A smile graced both of your faces as your eyes met.

“Hi,” you said softly.

“Hey.” He returned the gesture. You blinked, still keeping your eyes on his blue ones. After a few beats, he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry I wasn't there."

You shrugged, trying not to think about the stinging feeling in your chest. "It's fine." You said shortly.

"It's not." JJ said, rubbing your arms. "It's not fine. I told you I'd be there and I wasn't. I'm sorry."

"Well, it's done and over with now." You shrugged again before sitting on the bed. "No sense in dwelling on it."

"You think John B matters more than you do. And that's just not true." JJ responded. "I love John B, he's my brother. Always has been, always will be. But you matter to me. I love you. And I'm sorry that I made you feel as though you are less than him."

Tears welded up in your eyes. "I'm just very tired of this happening. JJ, I literally called you five times. I called Kie twice, Sarah twice, Pope twice, and Johnny three times and none of you answered. I mean, I work all the time because I have to keep groceries in the house, and the mortgage and the electricity bills paid for. Johnny takes care of the water and gas and what not, and you always, always, always do what you can, but I'm tired of being made second best just because I'm keeping us afloat."

"I'm sorry." JJ whispered, beginning to pace around the room. "I'm so so sorry." JJ sighed, mad at himself for making you feel low about yourself. "I love you, Y/N. More than I've ever loved anybody. I'm sorry that I'm bad at showing it, and I'm really sorry that I left you at The Cut today."

"I love you too, JJ. But we need to be better at being there for each other when we commit to each other." JJ pulled you to your feet and hugged you too him. Face planted against his shoulder, you wrapped your arms tightly around his waist. He threaded one hand through your hair and the other around your shoulders. You stood there hugging each other tightly for a few moments before words came to JJ.

"You don't need to be better at it, you already are great at it. I need to be better. And I will be."

You nodded slowly. "Okay."

"Let's go to bed, yeah?" JJ asked you, gesturing to the bed.

You nodded, flopping on the bed. JJ went to go on his side of the bed, but you dragged him to be on top of you.

When his eyes glanced up at you, you gave him a soft smile. "Hi."

"Hi yourself." He placed his mouth on yours and kissed you deeply. You both pressed into each other, trying to feel as much of each other as possible. Your hands ran through his hair, clutching tightly while his rans down your sides and planted themselves on your hips.

You finally pulled yourself away from JJ, panting as he kissed down your neck. What a perfect way to end the night, you thought to yourself, as JJ kissed further down. Make up sex was so underrated.

End.

lmk if you all want a part two!

[steviewashere]

I'd Like For You and I To Go Romancing

Rating: Teen and Up CW: None apply Tags: Post-Canon, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst With a Happy Ending, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Sex, Self-Sacrificing Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Love Confessions, Lover Boy Steve Harrington, Sad Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart For @steddieangstyaugust Day 21 Prompt: "Please." Title taken from "Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy" by Queen.

💕——————💕 “Please.”

It’s said to him so quietly, Eddie almost doesn’t hear it. The same way he can’t really see, can’t make out the shapes in the room despite the one light through the window. Maybe it’s the panic in him, while he’s trying to fight his way through tears as he pulls his clothes back on. But the word whispered at his back makes him take pause.

A desperate little word. He wants it to mean something.

Eddie swallows. Quickly, he goes back to shimmying his jeans back on. Hits his rings on the belt buckle currently hanging loose from the loops of his pants. 

It’s not that he wants to go, but it’s that he should. He’ll give some lame excuse later. Something about Wayne needing him back home—despite it being late at night, despite the fact that everybody knows Wayne works the nightshifts. He’ll say it’s because he gets anxious sleeping in other people’s beds. That he even wets the bed sometimes, even if he stopped doing that more than a decade ago. Gets nightmares so violent and lurching, he’s afraid he’ll hurt somebody. He could say that he actually hates sleeping with another person in his bed.

Despite everything in him screaming that he needs it. Because he’s a lonely, lonely person. And always wanted somebody there, needed them so close they could almost climb inside his ribs.

But he fastens the buckle of his belt and continues on with finding his t-shirt.

“Please,” whispered again, so singular, yet so drawn out, and so heartbreaking. The word pierces through Eddie’s back, kills his heart on impact, and exits his chest in one clean pass. It makes him stop searching again. “Don’t go. You don’t have to go.”

Oh, but I do, Eddie thinks, because if I let this go on any longer than it already has, I’ll have to admit how much I love you. And if I admit it and you say nothing in response, I’ll implode right on the spot. I’m saving myself. I’m saving you.

He sniffs. Grabs a random t-shirt from the bedroom floor and begins to pull it over his heavy head of curls. It’s not his shirt, he comes to find, but isn’t surprised. It’s loose on his chest, but tight on his biceps. The shirt is lightly worn. Smells like amber, like cinnamon and vanilla. Not his cologne. Not like cigarettes or marijuana or citrus-bergamot from his Irish Spring. Eddie plucks at the fabric, pulls it farther away from the skin of his chest, where his heart—resuscitated—tries to kiss the shirt with every beat.

If he doesn’t get out of here, he’ll do something stupid like break down into tears. If he doesn’t get out of here, he won’t save face. And if he doesn’t get out of here, he can’t move on.

A pleading, “Eds, please,” hits him. “Please don’t go. Don’t do this to me, too. Please, baby, come on.” Then, the bed behind him shifts. And there’s warmth on his back. A gentle brush of lips to his neck.

Steve wasn’t as sleepy as Eddie thought. Go figure.

“I…I gotta go, Steve,” Eddie states quietly, “I checked my watch. Gotta be home for Wayne, y’know?” He remains as still as he possibly can. Because Steve can read him, he’s come to find. He’ll know that Eddie’s lying if he shifts from foot-to-foot even an inch.

“He’s not home right now,” Steve immediately points out, “it’s dark out. And it’s a weekday, he’s working.”

Eddie swallows again. “I just have to go, Steve.” He doesn’t face him, doesn’t think he could. Doesn’t move, also doesn’t think he could. Just hopes, beyond all else, that Steve will just accept that and go back to bed and forget this night ever happened. That he ever touched Eddie that way. That he ever let himself get involved with a person like Eddie—not because he’s a freak and not because he’s in a different tax bracket, not that he’s above Steve, not that he’s below Steve…because he’s just him.

He hears Steve heave a deep breath.

Then, soft and tiny, “I was going to make you breakfast,” Steve says, “but this doesn’t have to…we can forget this happened if that’s what you want to do.”

“I…Steve”—

“It’ll be hard for me to let go, but I can try.” That makes Eddie turn to Steve. To see him. His limp, sweaty hair and the fact he’s only wearing boxers. The downcast eyes and twisting, nervous hands in front of him. “You’re not the first, so I’ll be fine.”

Eddie’s stomach churns and his palms sweat and he swears that his heart is the loudest thing in this room—screeching and beating and crashing straight out of him. But he brings himself to meet Steve’s volume, to ask, “What do you want, Steve?”

“I want you to stay,” Steve immediately responds, “I want you to stay in bed with me. And…and I’ll wake up first and maybe I’ll find out that you drool in your sleep and then I’ll brush back a stray strand of your hair and I want to get up and make you breakfast and then you’ll be over the moon when I hand you a cup of coffee and it’s made the exact way you love it and then we can…we can…you can…”

He blinks. Blinks again. Harder the third time. “You can…?” Eddie prompts.

“You can find somebody worth loving out of me,” Steve timidly answers, “because I already love you.”

Unable to hold himself back anymore, he takes the few steps forward to put him face to face with Steve. And, in a moment of bravery, holds Steve’s head between his hands and kisses him. Soft and exploratory. Then, passionate and disbelieving. And another, for good measure, that’s in the shape of all the words he wants to say.

“You want that with me,” Eddie states, though it sounds more like a question. Steve nods anyway. “With me. Wow. I…I wish I was better at this part, at saying the good shit. But I do love you, Steve. I’ve been in love with you since we started this whole thing between us but I…I’ve never had something like this and it terrifies me the way you’ve nestled your way into my brain.” He runs his thumbs under Steve’s eyes, catching tears he won’t acknowledge, because he’s sure he’d start crying, too.

“Do you still have to go?” Steve asks quietly, small in a way that’s unlike him. “I don’t want to keep you here if you don’t want to be”—

“I’ll stay, Steve. I’m sorry that I…I’ll stay, I promise. Let me just—let me get dressed down again and I’ll make all this up to you, swear it.” He’s jittering out of his skin; he wants to run laps through the whole house, wants to climb the walls, scream if he has to. But, in a way that’s unlike him, he continues to cradle Steve’s face in his palms and with languid, thoughtful movements, he kisses Steve between his eyebrows, under his eyes, the tip of his nose, and again on his mouth. “I’ll stay as long as you want me,” Eddie promises, “you won’t have to worry about somebody leaving ever again.”

Steve smiles sticky sweet and soft like a stack of pancakes. “Good,” he whispers, “because I never want to let you go.”

💕——————����

[orchidniins]

Craving Your Touch | Arthur Hill

Summary: Where after a long day of filming with the boys and the whole day away from you, all Arthur has been craving is your touch. Pairing: Arthur Hill x afab!Reader Warning: Fluff, Smut Word Count: 3.7k A/N: Thanks for the request anon! This turned out to be a lot longer than I had planned. I hope all my Arthur Hill girlies love this!

Masterlist

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You managed to pull yourself out of bed after a particularly long day at work, making your way to the train station. Shivering as you stepped out of the car, you pulled your jacket closer to your frame and shoved your hands into the pockets, trying to stay warm. 

'I won’t get that drunk' he had said. 'I can get home on my own' he had insisted. But you knew better.

Every time Arthur, George, and Arthur(TV) went off to some random city or town to film another platform roulette, your boyfriend would inevitably be incapable of standing upright by the end of it.

Tonight in particular, you had hoped that he would go a little lighter on the drinks so you could head to bed early and finally get some much-needed rest. But the night had other plans for you.

Not that you were complaining; you loved taking care of your boyfriend. Arthur was always super adorable when he was drunk, but he was also incredibly clingy. Cuddles, head scratches, undivided attention—he would demand it all tonight. And from the last few messages and the FaceTime call you just had with him, it was clear he was completely sloshed.

You waited at the platform where the three of them were supposed to arrive. It was way past 11 PM at this point, and the platform was basically empty. After a minute or so, the train came in, and out stumbled the boys and their videographer. ArthurTV had his hand draped across your boyfriend's shoulder, and they were singing the lyrics to "I Want It That Way" at the top of their lungs as they walked along the platform. You stood there, amused at the sight in front of you, and laughed a little at their antics.

Arthur's eyes lit up when he spotted you waiting for him. "Y/N! My love!" Arthur shouted, stumbling towards you with a wide grin on his face. He nearly trips over his own feet as he reaches you, arms wide open to engulf you in a hug. You caught him just in time as he almost tripped over his own feet, his sudden weight making you stumble back slightly. The strong scent of beer and alcohol hit your nose as he pulled you closer, kissing all over your face.

You giggled, trying to push him off gently. "Arthur, stop! You're going to knock us both over!" you laughed, smiling at his adorably drunk state.

Meanwhile, George and ArthurTV were chasing each other around like a couple of golden retrievers, occasionally bumping into each other and stumbling off balance. George gave you a playful salute when he saw you, while ArthurTV flung an arm around George's shoulder, waving enthusiastically and nearly toppling them both over in the process.

You wrapped your arm around Arthur's waist to steady him. "Hi, baby. Just how much did you drink?"

Arthur looks at you, his eyes half-closed but filled with adoration. "Just a little," he slurred, holding his fingers close together to emphasize his point. "But it was good fun… please film with us next time." 

You laughed and shook your head. "I think I'll leave the chaos to the three of you. Someone has to stay sober to pick you up."

Arthur's expression softened, his eyes twinkling with affection. "You're the best, you know that? I don't know what I'd do without you." he says, before placing a soft kiss on your lips.

You turned to George and ArthurTV and waved them over. "Come on, let's get all three of you home." Seeing just how drunk they were, especially ATV.

"Nooo, I wanna go with you," Arthur protested, clinging to you, his arms wrapping around you tightly. "I missed you," he whines, nuzzling his face into your neck. 

"I missed you too, but we really need to get you home," you said gently, trying to move him forward so you could start guiding him towards the parking lot.

George, who seemed slightly less drunk than the other two, came up behind you. "Don’t worry about us, Y/N. We’re fine. Just worry about him," he said, nodding towards Arthur. "He had to drink a bunch extra because of some forfeits and stuff. I’ll make sure Mr.Television gets home."

You looked between them, unsure. "Are you sure? I can give you a ride back." During this time, Arthur’s head was nuzzled into your shoulder, mumbling about god knows what, and you were doing your best to keep him up on his feet.

ArthurTV shook his head. "Nah, we’re good. We can manage. You just take care of our boy here."

Arthur's eyes lit up as he pouted, his arms still wrapped around you like a koala. "That’s settled, let’s go back to your place," he said, his voice full of neediness.

"Alright, alright," you laughed, balancing his weight as you waved goodbye to George and ArthurTV and made your way to the parking lot. "Say goodbye to the boys, babe."

"Bye, boys!" Arthur shouted, waving dramatically. "Love you!"

As you finally reached the car, you removed your arm from around him and dug into your jacket pocket for your keys. You clicked the button to unlock the door and looked up to see Arthur leaning against it, his head down and eyes closed. The two of you were only illuminated by a streetlight a little distance away, casting a soft glow on his features.

Despite his drowsiness and evident exhaustion, he looked incredibly handsome. His tousled hair fell over his forehead, and you couldn’t help but smile at him.

You gently touched his cheek. "Hey babe, Arthur, you feeling okay?"

He opened his eyes, looking back at you with a drunk smile on his face. "Yes, baby, I'm great," he murmured, his voice thick with affection. He grabbed your waist and pulled you closer, and you settled into the space between his legs.

"I love you," he said softly, his warm alcohol scented breath fans against your skin.

"I love you too," you replied, smiling up at him.

He leaned into you, quick to close the gap, kissing you. His lips moved against yours with a mix of need and tenderness, the taste of alcohol lingering between you. Your hand came up to rest on his chest, feeling his heart pounding beneath your fingertips.

The kiss deepened, becoming more passionate and urgent. His hands slipped under your shirt, his warm touch sending shivers down your spine as he gently rubbed your bare back.

You found yourself leaning more into him, welcoming the heat of his body against yours. His lips were insistent, and you felt a rush of desire as his tongue brushed against yours. You stayed like this for a while, lost in the moment, the intensity of the kiss making you forget the cold air around you.

Finally, you were the one to pull away, his lips chasing yours as you rested your forehead against his, taking a moment to catch your breath. The cold air filled your lungs, a stark contrast to the warmth of his embrace.

"I love when you take care of me," he whispered against your lips, his hands tightening around your waist. His hand moved up, his fingers brushing against the back of your bra.

You placed your hand on his forearm, stopping his movements. "Arthur, let’s get you home first," you said, trying to pry his hands off you.

He whined a little, not loosening his grip on you. "But I want to stay close to you," he pouted, nuzzling into your neck again. "I need you baby."

You playfully scolded him, "Arthur, it’s almost midnight. We should get home. And I have work in the morning, so will you please let me get you in bed?"

He smirked at your words, his eyes filled with longing. "As long as you're in bed with me, I wouldn't mind," he replied cheekily, his voice dripping with playful suggestion.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help but smile at his response, “Just get in the car…”

You managed to get him into the back seat of the car, fastening his seatbelt before getting into the driver's seat. As you started the car and began the drive home, you glanced back at him through the rearview mirror, finding him already half-asleep.

You managed to get Arthur home and into your apartment, his weight leaning heavily on you as you guided him to the bedroom. He was still buzzing from the alcohol, his steps unsteady but his grip on you firm. The warmth of his body pressed against yours, and you couldn’t help but smile at his tipsy antics.

"I missed you so much," he mumbled, his face nuzzling into your neck as you walked. You chuckled softly, feeling his warm breath against your skin. "Yes, yes... so I’ve been told," you teased gently.

Arthur mumbled something into your neck, his words slightly slurred. You couldn't help but giggle. "What was that?" you asked with a grin, leaning your head closer to catch his words.

"I missed your touch," he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. His words carried a vibration that resonated through your body, emphasizing just how much he craved your presence and affection.

Once inside the bedroom, you gently guided him to sit on the edge of the bed. “Okay…let’s get you out of these clothes” He gave you a lopsided grin, lifting his arms to make it easier for you to pull his shirt over his head. You gently pushed him back onto the bed, and he watched you with half-lidded eyes as you undressed him down to his boxers.

You changed into your sleepwear, a comfortable oversized shirt that barely reached your thighs, and you could feel his eyes on you. He watched intently as you moved around the room.

As you tried to walk past him towards the kitchen to fetch him some water, he sat back up on the bed, reaching out to grab your hand and pulled you closer. His eyes pleading, "No, don't go," he murmured softly, his voice tinged with longing. "I need you…close to me." 

His hands slid around to the back of your thighs, pulling you closer with a drunk grin on his face. And before you knew it, you were on his lap, straddling him. His hands roamed up your back, sending shivers through your body.

As soon as you settle onto his lap, Arthur leans in eagerly, his lips meeting yours with a hunger born from longing, mingled with the effects of alcohol.

His fingers tangle in your hair, gently tugging as he deepened the kiss. You melted into him, your hands resting on his shoulders, feeling his muscles tense under your touch. His movements are more sluggish than usual, yet hasty and rushed at the same time.

He deepens the kiss, his tongue fervently exploring your mouth. His hands begin to roam over your body, one kneading your thigh while the other slips around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. 

You can feel the hardness of his cock pressing against your increasingly wet core. As you grind against him, the friction sends waves of pleasure through you, getting you just as horny and desperate as him.

"God," he groans, "You feel so good against me." His words were slurred, still under the influence, but the desire in his eyes was clear. "You're just so...so beautiful. I can't get enough of you. I need to touch you."

You slightly pulled away, dazed from the intense kiss. "Like what?" you asked breathlessly, your chest heaving.

He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire. "Please, sit on my face," he pleads.

A rush of heat surged through you at his words, your heart pounding in your chest. "Arthur, you're drunk."

"I know," he replied, his voice barely more than a whisper. "But I need you. Please."

You hesitated for a moment, but you’ve never been able to say no to this man. 

Arthur's hands moved to the hem of your shirt, hesitating for a moment as if seeking permission. You nodded, and he slowly lifted it over your head, discarding it onto the floor. His eyes roamed over your exposed skin, filled with adoration.

"God, you're perfect," he breathed, his hands moving to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples through the fabric of your bra. A soft moan escaped your lips, and you arched into his touch, craving more.

His lips left yours, trailing a path of fiery kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking at your sensitive skin, leaving small marks along your neck.

Arthur's hands trailed up your back, fumbling with the clasp of your bra. After a couple of attempts, he finally managed to unhook it, tossing it aside. His lips continued their trail along your collarbone, down to your breasts, capturing a nipple in his mouth. Sucking gently and teasingly flicking with his tongue, his other hand kneading your other breast. 

Your hands trailed down his chest, fingers lightly brushing over his hardness, as you peeled yourself off him. Hooking your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, you pulled them down. His erection sprang free, and you couldn't help but admire how needy he looked, his cock already leaking precum.

You can’t help yourself as you move to touch him, but he gently stopped you, "No, you first," he begged. 

You agreed with a teasing smile. "Okay, lay down."

You slipped your panties off, sliding them down your legs and kicking them to the side. 

Arthur’s eyes don’t leave you, hooded with desire, his cock hard and glistening with precum.

You climbed up the bed, letting out a shaky sigh as you positioned yourself over his face. Hovering above him, your thighs on either side of his head, you could feel your heart pounding in your chest. 

His fingertips caress your thighs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. His lips followed, kissing each inch of your skin, nipping lightly with a teasing heat. He sucks a hickey onto your inner thigh, making your whole body tremble with anticipation.

As you hover just above his mouth, you feel his breath hot against your core, the heat of his desire palpable. Arthur's impatience grew, his eyes dark and filled with need.  “Just sit, love,” he urged, his voice desperate.

His hands gripped your hips, digging into your skin and guiding you to sit on his awaiting mouth. He looked up at you with a mixture of adoration and lust, licking his lips in anticipation.

Suddenly, he placed a kiss on your clit before his tongue slipped out to lick a wet stripe through your folds. He groaned into your clit, sending a shockwave through your body, a soft moan falling from your lips. 

“Oh fuck, Arthur,” you groaned. You let your hands fall in front of you, gripping the headboard almost immediately at the feeling of his hot tongue swirling over your wet folds.

"God, I love you," he breathed, before his mouth immediately latched back onto your clit. You gasped, your hands flying to his hair to steady yourself as he began to eat you out intensely.

His tongue worked with expert precision, flicking and circling around your clit before dipping into your entrance, poking and prodding at your gummy walls. Each movement sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You arched your back, your moans growing louder.

The sight of Arthur underneath you was honestly one of the sexiest things ever. His dark, hooded eyes watched your every reaction, drinking in your pleasure. Your head fell back as you felt your walls beginning to quiver on his tongue.

“You taste perfect, love,” he moaned, sucking on your clit and making you whine. He hooked his hands under your thighs, digging into your flesh as he pulled you down even closer. You worried that you might end up suffocating him, trying to push up off of him, but Arthur was completely pussy drunk and did not let you budge.

“Oh, Arthur... don’t stop,” you moaned, your voice shaking with desire. “Just like that...”

His tongue was relentless, sucking on your clit, lapping away at all your juices. He meticulously tortured you with his tongue, switching between long licks and quick flicks, dragging his tongue between your slick folds. The feeling was almost overstimulating, and you felt the knot inside you building up, ready to spill at any second.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you gasped, your thighs trembling as one hand gripped the headboard for support, the other tugging harder at his strands. He only responded by sucking harder, his tongue pressing against you in just the right way, pushing you dangerously close to the edge.

“Arthur, baby... I can't anymore,” you cried out, grinding your hips down onto his lips, his tongue sliding over your swollen clit. His mouth never ceasing its relentless assault, driving you wild with pleasure.

“Cum, baby, use my face,” he groaned between licks, his voice muffled but urgent. And use his face you did. Arthur’s eyes never left your face, watching every expression of pleasure as your juices spilled all over his face.

“Oh God, Arthur!” you moaned, the intense sensation overwhelming you. You felt a mess as he tried to lap up every drop, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm. You really felt like you were suffocating him now, but his strong grip still held you in place.

You moved off of Arthur’s face to sit on his torso, still trembling from the intensity of your orgasm. He used one arm to sit up while the other squeezed your thigh reassuringly. Your eyes settled on his face, his adoration for you evident in his gaze.

"God, you taste incredible," he praised, his fingers tracing lightly along your thigh. "I almost came just from the taste of you."

Arthur leaned in to kiss you, his lips hungry and demanding, letting you taste yourself on him. The intensity of the kiss made your mind go blank, lost in the sensation of his lips and the mingling flavors. He pulled away slightly, running his finger along his lips.

"You have the most intoxicating taste," he murmured, his eyes dark with desire. "But what I really want..." He paused, his gaze smoldering as he looked at your lips. "I want your lips on me."

You gave him a mischievous smile, your own desire stoked by his words. With deliberate slowness, you slid down his body, your hands trailing over his chest and torso, feeling the heat radiating from his skin. You positioned yourself between his legs, your fingers wrapping around the base of his throbbing cock. It was angry red from arousal, pre-cum glistening at the tip, and you licked your lips in anticipation.

“You look so fucking good right now,” Arthur groaned, his voice husky with desire. You responded with a teasing smile, leaning down to place a soft, lingering kiss on the head of his throbbing cock.

You took him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head before slowly taking him deeper, savoring the taste of him. The saltiness mingled with the heady scent of arousal, driving you to continue. Arthur's breath caught in his throat as you worked your tongue with expertise, your hand stroking the parts of him that couldn’t fit in your mouth. He moaned softly, his hips bucking up into your mouth instinctively, pushing himself deeper into your eager mouth.

Arthur's fingers threaded through your hair, his gasps growing louder with each skilled stroke of your tongue.

“God, Y/n,” he breathed, his hand tangling in your hair as you began to bob your head up and down. His moans spurred you on, your mouth working eagerly, hollowing your cheeks to create a delicious suction that made him curse under his breath. With each movement, he struggled to hold back his release, his hips trembling as he approached the edge.

You moved your hand in tandem with your mouth, stroking the base of his cock while your tongue danced along the sensitive ridges and veins.

"I'm close, I’m not gonna last love." Arthur groans, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

You looked up at him, your eyes locking with his and the sight of you with your lips stretched around his cock, your eyes full of lust drove him absolutely wild.

“I’m gonna… oh fuck, I’m gonna cum Y/N,” Arthur warned, his grip on your hair tightening.

You hummed in response, the vibration sending shivers through his entire body. You could feel him throbbing in your mouth, his release imminent. You increased your pace, your hand and mouth working in perfect harmony to bring him to the edge.

You glanced up at him, your eyes locking with his as you continued to pleasure him. But despite his efforts, Arthur couldn't hold back any longer. With a sharp intake of breath, he tensed beneath you his eyes shutting tightly and he releases into your mouth.

You swallowed him eagerly, your tongue swirling around to catch every drop of his essence.

"I think that's the most I've ever cum," Arthur murmured, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. You chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Same," you replied with a light laugh, the shared moment easing the lingering tension from your passionate encounter.

For a brief moment, you both gazed at each other, the air filled with unspoken affection. Arthur broke the silence, his voice filled with warmth. "I love you," he whispered, his hands gently caressing your sides.

"I love you too," you replied softly, meeting his gaze with a smile that mirrored his own.

Once you two get cleaned up settle back into bed. "Now come here. I want to hold you," he says before moving to lay down and pulling you gently onto his chest, pulling the covers over both of you.

He softly brushes his fingers through your hair, pressing a tender kiss to your temple.

"I can't believe you're mine," Arthur murmured, his eyes tracing your face lovingly.

"And I can't believe you're mine," you whispered back, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead.

"Now, let's get some sleep, okay?" you suggested, and he wraps his arms around you snugly. He pulls you close, his lips brushing against your forehead.

"Okay, darling. Goodnight," Arthur whispered, his eyes growing heavier with the comfort of your presence. 

"Goodnight," you murmured back, feeling a sense of peace settle over you as you listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Contented smiles graced both your faces as you drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other's arms.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A/N: Thanks for reading guys! I'm trying to get through all my pending requests now that I'm back.

Check out my other fics and oneshots here. Not working on any new requests currently but feel free to drop into my asks for a chat! 😊

[hqwkeyes]

The Devil You Know (Part 2/2)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader Word Count: 3k Warnings: mention of drunkenness, matt is giving therapist, slight angst, emotional vulnerability, only reread this once while editing so maybe typos (i think that's it?) Summary: Now that you know Matt's secrets, you need to discuss how it all makes you feel. You both get vulnerable with each other, and it brings you much closer than you thought it would.

Part 1 // Masterlist // Buy me a coffee!

The morning comes too quickly. Your alarm rings out like a siren, stirring you from a dreamless sleep. The idea of resting a bit longer is all too appealing, and you consider snoozing for a few minutes before getting ready for work. And then you remember. Work. With Matt.

The events of last night come flooding back, and suddenly, you would rather crawl under the covers forever than have to go in today. You're still not sure where you stand with each other. Matt is your friend and you still want him in your life, but you think you're going to need some time to process all of this—time that you don't have before work. You can understand why he kept his identity as a vigilante from you—it's kind of necessary to keep it a secret—but you can't help but feel a little uncomfortable knowing that he can read you like a book without even being in the same room as you. Although he was able to do so since you met him, you know it's going to make you feel even more self-conscious around him. You know you should probably sit down and discuss this with him again, but after the way things ended last night, you really don't want to face him.

Your face flushes at the recollection. And there's another thing to be self-conscious about. Maybe he was just trying to be playful and lighten the mood after all that had happened. There's no time to think about it now, though, because as much as you want to hide in your apartment today, there's plenty you have to get done at work before the weekend.

Lost in thought, you get ready on autopilot, and you're at the office before you know it. You take a long, deep breath before you head in, steeling your nerves in case Matt made it in earlier than you today. To your surprise, you're the first one in, having to unlock the doors. It becomes less surprising when you remember how plastered Karen and Foggy were last night as you straighten things up around the office. A few minutes later, you hear the tapping of Matt's white cane nearing, so you busy yourself with some paperwork.

"Good morning," he says upon entering. "You're here early today."

Upon glancing at your watch, you realize that you really are early.

"Thought I'd get a head start on some of this paperwork so I won't have much left on Monday," you explain, and then the scent of coffee hits you.

As if he knew you could smell it—and maybe he did—Matt places a cup of coffee on the desk in front of you. You glimpse up at him for a moment, and he's wearing a small smile.

"I thought you might need a pick-me-up after I kept you up so late last night," he says casually, but his phrasing has your cheeks turning all rosy.

He continues. "And I also wanted to thank you for keeping an open mind about all of this. I know it might be hard to trust me, but I'm willing to prove myself to you however you need me to." At this, you smile to yourself.

"I really appreciate that, Matt, but after some thinking, I don't think that's the problem I'm having with all of this." His nose scrunches at that.

"Do–" he hesitates. "Do you want to talk about it?" He asks, and there's something in the tone of his voice. It's a mix of curiosity and something almost like desperation, but not quite.

"I'd like to, yes, but–"

"But not here," he finishes.

"We're at work, Matt. Anyone could come in here, and even if Foggy and Karen know your secret, I don't want them knowing about this until I know how I feel for sure." Matt stands there in silence, thinking. As the moment stretches on, he grows antsy before nodding.

"I can respect that," he says, then promptly plucks your coffee cup off your desk and strides toward his office.

"Hey," you call after him, quickly getting to your feet. "I thought that was mine!"

"Then you can come get it from me in here," he calls back, a bit of amusement laced in his voice.

You follow him to his office, standing in the doorway as he sits at his desk.

"Would you feel better if we talked in here? There's more privacy, and you can lock the door if you'd like."

You let out a sigh, considering the option. As much as you like to try to maintain a sense of professionalism at the office—which can be hard since you're all friends—you suppose you would rather clear the air sooner than later.

"If I say yes, will you give me my coffee?" You ask jokingly. He smiles, letting out a little laugh, and you turn to shut and lock the door before taking a seat across from him.

"So tell me what you're feeling," he says as you settle into your chair. At that, your nerves return. He's so good at disarming you, making you feel comfortable and relaxed. Now, though, as soon as you remember his abilities, you can't help but squirm. He senses it.

"You're uncomfortable," he states, his smile falling into a thin line.

"I am," you tell him tentatively.

You let out a sigh again before continuing. "At first, I thought the big issue for me was the dishonesty, and I guess a small part of it still is. Since we met, you've always looked out for me. You've never done anything to make me feel like I couldn't trust you, which is why I don't think trusting you will be a problem in the future."

It feels good to be telling him all of this. You've thanked your three friends countless times for how they have continued to help and support you, but it feels different being open like this with Matt now. He's sitting there across from you, hands folded on his desk, his head tilted slightly in a way that lets you know he's listening attentively.

"I know you can't help it," you say, "and I get that this has been going on the entire time and things were fine before, but now that I'm aware of it, I feel even more self-conscious around you. I guess I just feel like I'm involuntarily sharing so much of myself with you, the way you can read me."

Even saying all of this, part of you feels a little guilty because you know this isn't really his fault.

You lower your gaze as you continue, your voice quieter. "It's one thing for someone to know you so thoroughly because you've shared yourself with them, but it's another when you can hear my heartbeat and smell my hormones. I just– I don't have that choice with you, and I guess knowing that is a little disconcerting for now."

He nods, removes his glasses, scrubs a hand over his face, lets out a breath. Your eyes are trained on the desk in front of you as you wait for him to speak.

"I understand that it must feel invasive," he finally says.

"A bit, yes."

"Is there anything I can do to make you feel more comfortable?" His expression is so soft, so genuine.

"I'm not sure," you start. "Like I said, I feel safe with you. You've never done anything to make me feel uncomfortable before."

He feels the urge to move closer to you, so he does. He gets to his feet and begins moving his chair around to your side of the desk.

"What are you doing?" You ask, brow furrowed in confusion.

He stops the chair beside you and sits down again before spinning your chair so you're facing each other. He reaches out, hesitates, then takes one of your hands in both of his.

"I made a lot of mistakes when it came to sharing my abilities and my identity as Daredevil with Foggy and Karen. I almost lost them both as friends, and I'm so lucky that they stuck around. I really don't want to make those mistakes with you too. I know–" he stops, takes a breath, then slowly releases it. "I know I wasn't upfront with you about this, and I should have been, but–"

His voice, the way he's holding your hand—like it's something delicate, fragile—it's all in earnest. You've never seen Matt like this, and the vulnerability of it all nearly moves you to tears.

"I just– I don't want to lose you," he breathes, his voice breaking.

And at that, a tear slips free. You use your free hand to hold onto his, gazing up at him with watery eyes.

He takes both of your hands now, gently brings them towards him, and presses them to his chest as he whispers, "This is how I'm feeling right now."

Beneath your fingertips, Matt's heart is racing, thumping hard against his chest. It makes you wonder how loud it must be for him. Another tear slips down your cheek, and one of his hands comes up to swipe it away, his fingers lingering for just a moment before returning to your hands on his chest.

Several seconds fall away before Matt finally speaks again.

"I sort of lied to you again last night," he starts, his voice still quiet. "Not intentionally, of course; I've only just realized it now. But when I told you that I didn't tell you about Daredevil because I enjoyed the normalcy without you knowing, it was only part of the reason." He turns his face away from you at that, looking almost a bit bashful. You begin to pull your hands away from his chest, but he stops you.

Your brow furrows in confusion again as your gaze moves from your hands on his chest to his face, which he's still hiding.

"So," you begin. "What's the other part?"

A beat passes.

He lets out a tentative breath. His pulse is thundering under your palms.

"In all honesty, after all you were going through when we first met, I was afraid of scaring you off. You had been through so much, and then we got to know each other and we grew closer. I– I had seen the way he had scared you, and I could tell that you felt safe with me—with all of us—and I didn't want to jeopardize that. I wanted to tell you, and I kept telling myself that I would, but I just–" he sighs. "I kept pushing it off, telling myself it wasn't the right time. You've been building this new life for yourself and working so hard towards your new career, and I didn't want to risk scaring you and making you feel like you had to run again. I couldn't risk taking that away from you."

You've been staring at him, lips parted in something akin to shock. Tears fall freely now, streaming slowly down your cheeks. The Matt you know isn't usually so open about these sorts of things. He isn't very touchy-feely or outwardly emotional. So right now, with his heart pounding in your hands, you're finding yourself speechless.

You pull your hands away from his chest, and his quickly follow, lacing his fingers through yours as if to grab your attention and pour his sincerity directly into you. He leans in closer, his knees slipping between yours.

"I'm not very good at talking openly like this, and I know I haven't given you a reason to believe me, but I promise I'm–"

"I believe you." The words are barely a whisper, but from the way his head tilts slightly, you can tell he heard it.

"You do?" You've never seen him so unsure.

"Your heart was racing, Matt," you say, "but I didn't need to feel it to know you were being sincere. I just–" You shake your head in disbelief. "You really do care about me, huh?"

At this, he releases your hands, and his own come up to cup your cheeks. He wipes away the lingering tears.

"I do," he says, his voice hushed, fingers brushing up and down your cheeks. Your heart is a raging storm in your chest. You glance up at him, finding the slightest glimmer of tears in his eyes.

"How loud is my heartbeat right now?" Your voice is quiet, your tone slightly amused. A bashful smile finds its place on your lips, and his thumb comes down to trace the edge of it.

"Very," he says with a breathy laugh before sniffing away his unspilled tears.

The two of you stay that way for a few moments before Matt slowly withdraws his hands, but he remains close.

"So, earlier," he starts. "What did you mean when you said I make you 'even more self-conscious' now?" His grin turns devilish, and you know he can hear the nervous flutter of your pulse.

"Well, you know, you're just so– so put-together. It's just a little intimidating sometimes," you stammer. "And I guess I also admire that about you. I want that for myself too."

"Oh, that's it?" The corner of his grin quirks up into that signature smirk of his.

You manage an "mhm," not fully trusting your voice.

"That's a shame," he drawls. "I thought maybe it had something to do with my 'cute grin." He looks so satisfied with himself.

"Oh quit it," you say, playfully shoving his shoulder, and his chair rolls backwards an inch or two as he lets out a lighthearted laugh.

You join in his laughter as he stands up and returns his chair behind his desk.

After a moment, you both settle down. He stands behind his chair, hands resting on top of it.

"Are we okay?" He asks. His tone is more serious again.

"We are," you affirm.

You get up and start making your way toward the door, but you pause halfway.

"So uh," you start with a smile on your face. "What are the odds that my coffee's still hot?" At this, Matt lets out another laugh.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have held it hostage on you," he says, picking it up and bringing it over to you. It's only just now that you realize it's from your favorite café, which isn't exactly on Matt's way to work.

You gasp. "Wait, you didn't have to–"

"I wanted to," he states, one corner of his mouth lifting as if he's trying to suppress a smile.

"I'm going to drink it anyway," you tell him.

"No, no, you don't have to do that."

At that, you take a sip of the beverage, which is now leaning more towards cold than room temperature. Your eyes widen—he got your favorite drink order perfect.

"God, that's awful," he says with a laugh, shaking his head.

"I'll just imagine it's iced," you tell him, laughing as you take another sip.

You hear the main door to the office open, along with talking outside. Foggy and Karen must have shown up at the same time.

"How about I get you another one tomorrow?" He suggests, taking a step closer to you.

You let out another laugh. "Matt, tomorrow's Saturday. Do you expect me to come in on the weekends now?"

He snorts, smiling at the floor before facing you again, then takes another step toward you.

When he speaks again, his voice is low. "No, but I was hoping you'd have coffee with me anyway? If you aren't busy, of course."

You and Matt were pretty close, but you've never really gone out together before, just the two of you. There was the occasional lunch when assisting him on a case, but that's been the extent of it, and you've done the same with Foggy. The four of you mostly hung out as a group, or you would spend time with Karen on your own.

The look on his face is growing bleaker by the second, and you realize he's been waiting on a response while you've been lost in thought.

"I'm free tomorrow, actually." You say with a smile. "And I'd really like that."

"Great. It's a date then." Your head snaps up at that, butterflies a fluttering tornado in your chest.

"Unless, you'd prefer–"

"No, that's fine," you say, cutting him off. That little smirk of his returns once more.

"Perfect," he says softly before leaning in closer.

A spine-tingling feeling takes over you, making you shiver. One of his hands is coming up to caress your cheek when a knock comes at the door, startling you. Suddenly, the two of you are across the room from each other.

You move to unlock the door, and when it swings open, Karen and Foggy are standing there.

"Oh, we didn't know you were here yet," Karen says to you.

"We had a few things to discuss," Matt explains from behind his desk, leaning back against the windowsill.

"Is everything okay?" Karen asks. You glance back at Matt, who raises a eyebrow, then back to the pair in front of you.

"Well," you start, your voice trailing off for a moment. "I know," you tell them, gesturing towards Matt.

"Oh thank God," Foggy blurts. "You finally told her you're into her!"

Your eyes widen, and when you look back at Matt, his hand is covering his face, cheeks reddening to a shade that currently matches your own.

"I um– I meant I know about Daredevil." Karen claps a hand over her mouth, and she and Foggy dissolve into laughter, gripping the doorway for support.

"Yeah, thanks, Fog," Matt says, shaking his head.

"You know," you turn to Matt with a smirk. "I had an inkling, but I wasn't sure. So, I guess now I know."

Matt's wearing a shy smile, the tips of his ears still tinged red, and he nods. "Now you know."

Foggy and Karen are in tears, nearly on the floor now. You step around them as you leave Matt's office, then turn back to him. He's shaking his head at the ridiculous pair, and you know these two will have so many questions once they've collected themselves that you won't be getting much work done today. To be honest, though, you probably wouldn't be getting much done anyway with tomorrow's coffee date already on your mind. You're about to sit at your desk when you peek back into Matt's office, finding him sitting in his chair, facing away from his desk, lost in thought. It seems he won't be getting much done either.

Part 1 // Masterlist // Buy me a coffee!

If you want to be added to any of my taglists, check out this form!

A/N: Please let me know if you'd like to see more within this little universe. I have fun writing it and would be interested in maybe continuing this storyline if anyone would want to read that!

[thezombieprostitute]

Your Champion: Changes

Summary: Steve takes you somewhere safe.

A/N: Reader is female. No other physical descriptors used.

Warnings: Implied violence, Manipulation. Please let me know if I missed any!

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Steve did end up taking you out of the apartment, but not as payment for your father's debts. He tells you it's because he wants to keep you safe, to get you away from such a dangerous man.

You fight the urge to laugh at the absurdity. Steve literally burst into your life and started hitting your father. From what he's told you, he hurts a lot of people, even enjoys it! But sure, he's "rescued" you. If there's one good thing your father taught you it's that you don't argue with people who can hurt you.

So when he told you to pack your things, all you could think to do was comply. All of your clothes and your only photo of your mother fit into a single garbage bag with room to spare.

Your face burned with embarrassment when he asked, "is that really all you have?" But when he followed it by grumbling, "should have finished him off," you go cold. Your best option is the same as always: be quiet, be good.

"I'm gonna take you somewhere safe," Steve informs you in the car. "It's a halfway house, but it's still safer than living with your old man." You nod, relieved he isn't taking you back to his place.

"I'll also be driving you to and from work from now on."

Your eyes widen as you turn to look at him.

"I'm going to worry about you otherwise," he explains. "It'll be a longer trip to work than you're used to and I'd rather give you a ride than put you on the bus with a bunch of strangers."

Your eyebrows furrow on confusion. Does he not realize he's also a stranger?

"You are not to leave the house or the grocery store until I pick you up," he orders. "Do you understand?"

No, you think. But you nod your head yes, trying to placate him.

"If I had things my way you wouldn't even be going to work," he continues. "You'd be kept somewhere safe while you healed up from living with that monster for so long. But I've been told that routines can help and having a job can help your sense of worth. So I'll abide by Boss's rules and take you to Nat. But so help me, you need anything you tell me, ok?"

Again you nod. You don't understand much of what he's talking about, but you know what he wants from you. He's just like your father, he talks you listen.

"If your dad is smart he'll stay away from you. But I'll do some security checks around the halfway house and the grocery store from time to time. Just to make sure he's not lurking."

There's a long silence before he shakes his head at you. "Too in shock to even say 'thank you.' What the hell did he to you?"

"I'm sorry, sir," you blurt. "I didn't know you wanted verbal responses."

He huffs through his nose and places a hand on your knee. "No need to be so formal. Just call me Steve."

"Yes, Steve," you quickly reply. Anything to keep him happy, calm, placated.

When you finally reach your destination your somewhat grateful for Steve's insistence on driving you. You have no idea where you are in relation to Pete's Grocery, let alone where the bus stops are. You'd never had need to know any routes outside your normal ones. You've never been so far away from the familiar buildings.

A redheaded woman steps out the front door and she smiles at you.

"Hello there! Steve texted me that he was bringing another rescue."

Your shoulders relax a little. Maybe he does this a lot. Maybe he's just overly helpful to new "rescues". In any case, this woman seems to be used to him so maybe she can help you with him.

"She's agreed to let me take her to and from work," Steve interjects. "That should make things easier for you."

"Is that true?" Nat gives you a meaningful look.

You should tell the truth, that you didn't know you had other options. But it's also the truth that you agreed to his escorting you. And you were just thinking about how grateful you were to not have to ride the buses.

"Yes, ma'am, it's true."

"Okay then," she smiles. "Let's get you set up here, ok?"

Steve tries to follow into house but Nat stops him.

"Don't you need to report to Barnes?"

He sighs angrily and you freeze up. You wish you were strong like Nat clearly is. You can't imagine standing up to anyone like Steve but she's acting like it's not a big deal.

"I'll make sure she calls you before her next shift," Nat reassures him. "But I need to get her feeling safe and you can be quite intimidating."

Steve looks hurt. "I would never!"

Nat raises her hands in a placating gesture. "I know." She points to the house, "they probably know." She points to you, "she probably knows, too. But you can't always control yourself and I don't need you accidentally triggering these poor people."

He looks at you, "you know I'd never hurt you, right?"

"Yes, Steve," you quickly reassure him.

The response seems to soften his look from angry to grumpy.

"Ok. I'll be back to take her to work around 6 tomorrow."

"Sure thing, Champ," Nat smiles.

As Steve gets in his car he smiles and waves to you. You wave back but your brain keeps thinking, how does he know when my shift starts?

Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @darsynia; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @kmc1989; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63

[larluce]

Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU

LINKS TO THE OTHER PARTS OF THIS AU HERE: PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , PART 5 , PART 6 , PART 7 , PART 8 , PART 9 , PART 10 , PART 11 , PART 12 , PART 13 , PART 14 , PART 15 , PART 16 , PART 17 , PART 18 , PART 19 , PART 20 , PART 21 , PART 22 , PART 23 , PART 24 , PART 25 , PART 26 , PART 27 , PART 28 , PART 29 (You're here), PART 30

Gaius: (sighs) My boy, I don't think crying for your life to the King is going to work.

Merlin: Is not him I'm going to cry to.

Gaius: ...

Merlin: I know, I know. This is so absur-

Gaius: Brilliant! 😃 How didn't I think of this before? (quickly looks for some medicine and gives it to Merlin) Here, a couple of drops in your eyes should be enough.

Merlin: I can't believe you're really supporting this madness.

Gaius: Madness is what Arthur will do if you don't change his mind soon. (starts pushing Merlin out of his chambers) Now go, I can't keep the King assleep much longer. (ends to push Merlin outside and closes the door)

Meanwhile in Arthur's Chambers.

Arthur: (on his desk with a bunch of parchments with names, strategies and possible scenarios, thinking) This was not supposed to happen so soon. I had I plan goddamit! (sinks his face in his hands) Why father? Why do you always want to take away everyone I love? First Gwen and now...(sighs and gets the hands off his face) I hate you, so much... but I don't want to kill you. I don't want to do any of this, but I have to. You'd do the same for my mother. I hope you understand, because even now I can't bare the thought of you not forgiving me.

Merlin: (enters hanging his head)

Arthur: (letting out his frustration) May I know where have you been? 😡 This room is not going to clean itself. I have a lot of work to do and you are-

Merlin: (lifts his head to reveal two rivers of tears under his eyes, face red, hiccuping and whining)

Arthur: Merlin! (jumps from his sit and runs to Merlin, almost in panic) What is it?! Did something happen? (checks him, worried) Are you hurt?! Tell me!

Merlin: (thinking) Me eyes hurt! 🥺 Why does it have to burn this much? 😭(says) Please, Arthur, stop this! This is your fault! (hits Arthur's chest)

Arthur: What?! What did I do?! 😨

Merlin: (thinking) Shit, I did it backwards. (says) I mean, MY fault! (hits his chest) It's all my fault! (hits his chest harder) My fault, my fault!

Arthur: (very concern) Will you stop that?! You'll hurt yourself! Merlin! (grabs Merlin by the wrists) What's gotten into you?

Merlin: Please, Arthur. I can't-(thinking) Wait, I forgot to kneel. (drops to his knees)

Arthur: What the- 😨

Merlin: I can't live with myself if blood is spilled because of me! 😭 (tries to hold Arthur's hands, but can't see well through the tears so he ends up pulling his trousers in a crying mess)

Arthur: (definitely in panic now) What are you doing?! Merlin, stand up! My trousers are going to fall. Merlin! (kneels too and cups his face, comforting) I get that you're scared, but everything will turn out alright.

Merlin: (thinking) Nooo! It's not working! And I can't hug his legs now! (says) No! No! You have to stop this-Argh! (thinking) Damn it! It's burning too much! I can't open my eyes! (hides his face in his hands, pretending he's crying harder)

Arthur: (even more worried) Merlin look at me, please.

Merlin: (thinking) No! He'll realise I'm faking if I can't open my eyes. What do I do? What else was in Morgana's script? Oh, right! (says) If you do this, I… I'd rather… disappear! (faints dramatically)

Arthur: (catches him before he hits the floor in reflex) Merlin? (pats his face) Merlin! (shakes him) Merlin, open your eyes.

Merlin: (thinking) I can't. I fainted.

Arthur: Wake up, come on. Merlin! (Shakes him harder)

Merlin: (thinking) Ow! There is no need to be so rough. 😠

Arthur: (concern) He fainted.

Merlin: (thinking) Don't say!

Arthur: I need to take him to Gaius. (carries Merlin bridal style)

Merlin: (thinking) Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait! why are you carrying me like this? 😳😫

Arthur: (Runs outside with Merlin in his arms and yelling) Gaius! (Runs through the castle staff) Everybody, get out of the way! It's an emergency! Gaius!

Merlin: (thinking) There's no need to be so dramatic either! 🤦‍♂️

In Gaius' Tower.

Arthur: (enters kicking the door open) Gaius!

Gaius: (looks Merlin in Arthur's arms, alarmed) What happened?!

Arthur: I don't know! He-

Gaius: Lay him on the bed first. I need to examine him.

Arthur: (Lays Merlin on the bed quickly)

Gaius: (while checking Merlin) Now explain.

Arthur: (paces, anxiously) He came to my chambers crying and saying that this was all his fault, hitting himself like a madman. Then he begged me to stop the rebel-the back up plan and he kneeled, Gaius, he KNEELED before me! When has he ever done that? I tried to calm him, but he just wouldn't stop crying! And then suddenly he fainted!

Merlin: (pinches Gaius subtly)

Gaius: (realices he's faking) I see... (gets an idea) Oh, my poor, poor boy.

Arthur: (stops pacing) What? What is it?

Gaius: It seems that Merlin is in a very bad state of... anxiety, Sire.

Arthur: Anxiety?

Gaius: Yes, that! He fainted from the anxiety. I know he doesn't show it always, Sire, but Merlin is very... sensitive. Sometimes his heart cannot bear strong impressions and, apparently, the approach of a rebellion was too much for his... delicate heart.

Merlin: (thinking, offended) That's not true! 😠

Arthur: (thinking, between concerned and confused) How can this be? Not even when his father died I've seen him so distraugh. Does the rebellion really worries him this much? (says) But he'll wake up, right? He'll be fine.

Gaius: He will, but I fear that... (dramatic pause)

Arthur: What? Tell me!

Gaius: If he continues receiving news that could cause him any anguish he could become seriously ill to the point his heart could... stop beating completely.

Merlin: (thinking) Really, Gaius? 🙄 What was the need of making up this diagnosis?

Arthur: (desperate) No... No! there must be something you can give him! Some medicine, a treatment, ANYTHING!

Gaius: The only thing that can help Merlin now is rest and tranquility. ABSOLUTE tranquility.

Arthur: (sinks in a chair nearby, filled with guilt) This is my fault, isn't it? He's like this because of me.

Merlin: (thinking) No, no, no. Don't think that! ☹️

Gaius: You had no way of knowing this would happen, Sire.

Arthur: What do I do now? If I keep up with my plan I lose him if I don't I lose him too. (looks up at gaius with watery eyes) I can't lose him, Gaius. (thinking) Not again, not again. Please.

Merlin: (thinking, his heart beating like crazy) He... He never cared for me like this in my other life. It feels... nice.

Gaius: (puts a comforting hand on Arthur's shoulder) Rebellion is not the only answer. You said yourself it was just a back up plan. You can still reason with the King or we can put Merlin safe somewhere.

Arthur: But he'll be away.

Gaius: But safe. Isn't that what's important?

Arthur: ...

Gaius: Whatever it is you'll do, I know you'll make the right decision, your Highness.

Arthur: (sighs, stands up, aproaches Merlin and caresses his hand lovinly)

Merlin: (tries very hard for his heart and breathing to stay even)

Arthur: Tell me when he wakes. I need to take care of some things.

Gaius: Of course, Sire.

Arthur: (gives a last look at Merlin and finally leaves)

Merlin: (sits up as soon as the door closes) What the hell was that?! 😡

Gaius: That was me saving us all.

Merlin: "Anxiety"? "delicate heart"? "his heart could stop beating completely"? There was no need to scare him like that!

Gaius: You are the one who decided to faint. Why did you do that?

Merlin: Morgana told me to.

Gaius: (in understanding) Morgana! I should've known it was her idea.

Merlin: Yes, the idea was to use tears to persuade Arthur of not doing the rebellion. This is outright lying to him! And you know I hate lying to him, Gaius! (rubs his eyes) Ugh, my eyes still burn a bit.

Gaius: This should help (gives him a bowl with water and Merlin starts washing his eyes). I'm sorry I lied to Arthur, but I figured that if he was doing this rebellion to save you, the only way to stop him was if he believed you'll be in danger if the rebellion were to happen too.

Merlin: (sighs) What's done is done. (gets off the bed)

Gaius: What are you doing?

Merlin: Going to do my chores.

Gaius: You can't! You are supposed to be ill. Remember?

Merlin: So what? You expect me to stay in bed all day?

Gaius: That's exactly what you'll do. Now, lay down.

Merlin: But-

Gaius: Lay down.

Merlin: (recluntanly lays down) Can I read a book at least?

Gaius: I'll bring you some.

Time skip. Arthur with Kilgharrah.

Kilgharrah: I don't understand. Don't you want to start your reign, young Pendragon?

Arthur: Of course I do! But not at the cost of Merlin.

Kilgharrah: It's not just about saving him. It is Uther who persecutes Merlin and his kind. Even if Uther were to spare his life, which I doubt, your warlock won't be free until Uther dies.

Arthur: I know. But everything is getting out of my hands! I can't go back to my original plan and the back up plan is not an option now. (holds his head in desperation) How did everything turn out this bad? This never happened in my timeline!

Kilgharrah: Every change you've done, even if it was small, could lead to a complete different scenario. Being from the future won't prepare you for that.

Arthur: What do I do then? There's no pacific way to get out of this.

Kilgharrah: Maybe not pacific but, perhaps, a least violent one. Just enough to not worsen your warlock's state.

Arthur: Which is?

Kilgharrah: You needn't to involve others when the enemy is only one.

Arthur: ...

Kilgharrah: You already thought of it.

Arthur: (sighs) I did, I was just hoping you'll come up with something different.

Time skip. In Uther's chambers.

Gaius: (preparing another sedative)

Arthur: (enters) You don't have to do that anymore, Gaius.

Gaius: (turns to him, surprised) Sire!

Arthur: (smiles) Let him wake up. I want to speak with him alone.

Gaius: (nods in underdstanding) I'll prepare Merlin's things just in case.

Arthur: That won't be necessary, Gaius. Don't worry.

Gaius: ... Sire?

Arthur: (gives him a calm smile) You really don't have to worry, Gaius. I found I way to convince him. He won't be able to deny me this. You can go in peace.

Gaius: (unsure, but bows and leaves)

Arthur: (his smiles fades as soon as Gaius is gone, checks the doors are closed and then turns to Uther) This was not supposed to happen like this. (walks to the bed) I was going to give you an honorable dead, you were going to be remembered as a hero, even though you don't deserve it. You've hurt a lot of people, father. Murdered thousands of innocents in your grief... but aren't I about to do the same? Haven't I already done that to be where I stand? (pulls Uther's hair out of his face) It makes me wonder. Were you always a monster, father? Or you only turned this way when you lost my mother? You always insisted I marry for duty even though you married for love. Was it because you feared what I'll become if I were to fall in love like you? (lets a dry laugh) I guess what is inherited is not stolen. (grabs a pillow) There's a difference between me and you though. I'd never blame others for my own mistakes and I would never risk Merlin like you did with my mother. (holds the pillow close to Uther's face) I'm sorry.

Anhora: (appearing out of nowhere) Arthur Pendragon.

Arthur: (lets the pillow fall to the floor, almost jumping out of his skin, but quickly composes himself as he recgonises him) The keeper of the unicorns.

Anhora: Glad I don't have to introduce myself. I have come to deliver a message.

Arthur: (tired) Please don't tell me you'll curse Camelot. I don't have time for this. I let your unicorn go.

Anhora: For which I'm in debt with you. Whoever dares to slay a unicorn meets despair, but those who save one can be rewarded.

Arthur: Do you have an enchantment that can make my father forget all his absurd suspicions about Merlin? Because if you don't I don't know you how else you could help me.

Anhora: This is what I don't get. You spared the life of my unicorn, which is an act of a pure hearted person. Yet your heart is anything but pure. You are ready to enchant your father, to take his life just to fullfil your selfish desires.

Arthur: Is this my reward? A sermon?

Anhora: No. (gets a bracelet out of his pocket) this bracelet made of unicorn hair is a lucky charm. It could help turn chances at your favor, but it'll disappear as soon as you achieve your goal.

Arthur: You said could. You mean is not certain?

Anhora: You have to make your part and it'll only help you with one aim. The more short term and specific the better.

Arthur: That's a very useless lucky charm. 😒

Anhora: Useless or not it's yours. I beg you to use it wisely (extends the hand with the bracelet)

Arthur: (grabs it) Thank you.

Anhora: (about to leave, but turns) Prince of Camelot, if you keep down this pat you build and embrace the darkness in your heart to protect your love ones, that darkness will end up harming those you hold most dear.

Arthur: You think I don't know? You think I like doing what I'm doing? (laughs without humor) Is ironic. Where I come from you determined I was "pure of heart" for the same reason now you are determining I'm not. Because I wanted to save Merlin, to keep him safe. But even then I was willing to leave my kingdom without a heir just so he wouldn't die. My love was never pure.

Anhora: (with sadness) It was. It once was. One of the purest love I've ever seen. Or at least it could have been. Now it's corrupted.

Arthur: (surprised) You... you are-

Anhora: If something goes wrong this time, there will be no going back. And it will not be fate's fault. The blame will fall entirely on you, Arthur Pendragon. Are you prepared to assume the consequences of your actions?

Arthur: (serious) Yes.

Anhora: Then you are doomed (dissapears)

Arthur: (sighs and looks at the bracelet, thinking) This better work. (puts it on)

Uther: (wakes up) What…? Where am I?

Arthur: (takes a chair nearby and sits next to him) In your chambers, father. You had a seizure.

Uther: (still kind of groggy) Oh...

Arthur: Father, I know Merlin behaved very poorly and I take complete responsability for that. I've given him too many liberties since he is under my service. I failed to properly teach him how he should adress his superiors and for that I'm sorry. It won't happen again, but please, I beg you, spare his life.

Uther: (smiles softly) Alright, I'll spare him.

Arthur: (very surprised) Really? (thinking) This thing is more effective than I thought!

Uther: (smiles more brightly) Of course! Anything for my son.

Arthur: (thinking) ...okay, something's wrong. (says) Father, how many fingers do you see? (raises 3 fingers in front of his eyes)

Uther: Hmmm... Six!

Arthur: (lets out a sigh of exasperation, thinking) No! He's still drugged! It won't matter if he spares Merlin's life now, he'll take back his words as soon as he comes back to his senses...unless... (stands up and searches around the room quickly)

Uther: What are you doing son?

Arthur: (picks a parchment and a quill and sits back next to Uther) Can you show me how you sign your treates, father? I want to see if I'm doing it correctly.

Uther: My son, always looking for perfection. Alright. (signs)

Arthur: (thinking, looking at the parchment) The writing is stable enough. (says) Father, I just remember there are some urgent documents that need to be signed. I really don't want to bother you, you've just woken up, but you're the King. You're the only one the can do it.

Uther: I understand. You can bring them to me.

Arthur: I'll be right back. (stands up and goes to the door)

Uther: Arthur!

Arthur: (turns around)

Uther: I love you, son.

Arthur: (thinking, holding back the tears) Of course the only times you've told you loved me would be when you're drugged or in your deathbed. (says) I love you too, father. (leaves)

...

Anhora I hate you for stopping Arthur from killing Uther but I also love you cause now Arthur can go back to his original plan :D

How will Uther react when he comes back to his senses? Will Merlin really be safe? Find out in the next part of "Merlin: The Favourite of crocodile tears"

Also credits to my best friend Rosangela, who is practically beta and almost co-writer of this AU now.

Tagging @aceauthorcatqueen , @fallenxjas , @smileytrinity ,@lucifertookmyshoe , @an-entity-i-think , @thecornerofbelu , @griffonskies , @odinjm , @cinnabon-sweetroll-tiramisu , @thelady-mary , @bennedict , @nightninjaboy , @st8-of-grace , @star-rie , @error-username-not-available , @dogberryrowan , @jamieweasley13 , @tansyuduri , @tercais , @robynnemrys , @evadne01 , @serasvictoria02 , @hairdryerducks , @hopeaha , @curiously-lazy , @ harriettesthings , @andrealux16 , @wacko-weirdo , @greatdonutenemy , @yougottobekittenme , @anxiousosaurus , @kinkforwings , @someweirdassnamee , @impracticalantlers , @miyriu , @hobipabo , @whitemaskcd , @cute-girl-next-door , @bogslob , @tkmaras , @cunts-and-kermits

[tokutaiseichan]

Characters Awakening Lines Translations

After posting the lines for Jin and Rui, I felt like translating other characters too so here we are!

Please note that since I don’t have access to all of the characters’ lines, most of the raw lines are taken from the unofficial JP wiki. The texts are all there so if any of you notice any errors/mistranslations, feel free to correct me!

FROSTHEIM

Jin

Awakening: To think I'm receiving alms from my servant... Should I kneel in front of you? Fully Awakened: Trust is something that can be broken easily. Don't you dare come any closer than you already have.

Tohma

Awakening: This feeling… It appears that you want me to keep reaching out for the top. Is that how it is? Fully Awakened: With this power, we're one step closer to achieving our goal. And I'm* going to make sure we see it through the end. [*he's referring to himself as “ore” instead of his usual “”watashi” here]

Luca

Awakening: I devote myself to protecting the weak, for that is the path I have to take. Fully Awakened: I'll become stronger than anyone. I don't want to lose anything important to me一not anymore!

Kaito

Awakening: Could it be… even someone like me can get stronger too? Fully Awakened: You have done so much for me! This man, Kaito, will no longer run away!!

VAGASTORM

Alan

Awakening: This power is dangerous. Stay away from me. Fully Awakened: I don't really know what’s appropriate to say for this kind of thing, so… well… umm, thanks a lot.

Leo

Awakening: C'mere, Honor Roll~ I'll show you those guys’ ugly crying faces too~ Fully Awakened: Obviously. If I don't like someone, I’ll take matters into my own hands and create hell on earth just for them. There's no such thing as divine retribution, you know?

Sho

Awakening: Thanks for waiting. Well? What do you want me to do now? Say it clearly. Fully Awakened: Sure, okay. I got it. If it's your request, I'll make sure to at least listen to it through the end.

JABBERWOCK

Haru

Awakening: That sure hits the spot~ Now I don't even need those energy drinks! Fully Awakened: I'm going as far as this road is going to take me. I made a choice to walk down this path and it's not something I can just simply throw away.

Towa

Awakening: Heheh~ Did I get stronger? How interesti~ng. Fully Awakened: I wonder why humans are such foolish, whimsical, and pitiful creatures… yet they manage to still be so lovable?

Ren

Awakening: Doing something like this… Senpai, what are you planning? Fully Awakened: Geez! Even if you look at me with those expectant eyes, I know you'll just get tired of me right away…

SINOSTRA

Taiga

Awakening: Gyahahahaha! Aren't you one greedy little kitten~? But I don't hate that about you. Fully Awakened: A hasty greed and a sincere wish. There's no big difference between the two of them.

Romeo

Awakening: Come now. Is it really the time to be charmed by my beauty? Fully Awakened: I need to be perfect all the time一for that is my way of staying triumphant on this world.

Ritsu

Awakening: This will help in furthering my career. Fully Awakened: I definitely will become the best attorney in Japan, and then I shall ensure my father's name will be clear from all the alleged infamy he's received.

HOTARUBI

Subaru

Awakening: I’m so happy that you're right here beside me to watch me grow. Fully Awakened: “Ignorance is Bliss" and “Silence is Golden”. Don't you agree that it's unreasonable to try and break the admonitions we inherited from our predecessors?

Haku

Awakening: Oi oi oi. Don't expect too much from me, you hear? Fully Awakened: If our life were decided by the things we were born with, you bet I'd be the first one to kiss that kind of life goodbye.

Zenji

Awakening: It seems that my capability has bloomed yet again! Fully Awakened: I was wrong, my dear. As it turns out, dreams are not to be kept as just an idealized fantasy but something we should achieve with our own hands.

OBSCUARY

Edward

Awakening: Oh dearie me. If you whip my old bones any harder, I might actually die this time, you know? Fully Awakened: Sometimes a youthful folly can lead one into committing grave sins. So I hope that you keep this in mind一remain modest and cautious.

Rui

Awakening: Thanks a bunch for working hard for my sake~ I really mean it! Fully Awakened: It's fine if you ended up forgetting about me. I simply wish for you, of all people, to become happy.

Lyca

Awakening: Thanks. I want to show the current me to Neros soon. Fully Awakened: I’m going to work hard. I don't want to come back to those hellish days anymore.

MORTKRANKEN

Yuri

Awakening: This feeling! It stimulates my brain cells! Fully Awakened: I will pioneer the advanced road of genomic analysis for anomalies and establish myself as the best doctor in the world!

Jiro

Awakening: Thank you very much. I feel slightly better. Fully Awakened: I won't let you die. The reason I'm helping you? I don't really understand it myself either.

[cherryblossompink303]

Patience:~This is our ouran fair!~

➼ pairing: Kyoya Ootori x Reader ➼ summary: After the disbandment of the host club makes the members realise that they don't want to give up. ➼ what to expect:  "You idiot...like I want to leave, like I want to wait years to see you...I waited...well years...to for us to get to as we are now...and I will wait longer...but I'd rather have you at an arms length than not have you at all." ➼ warnings: Angst ➼ Part Twenty Four

"Kyoya" You sigh, crouching down by his side of the bed. "I know you aren't a morning person but you need to get up for the fair" You lightly shake his shoulder. "Kyoya."

You squint, looking at him closely "Okay you are not asleep, you aren't fooling me" you sigh, kyoya groans, moving onto his back. You place your forehead against the corner of the mattress. "You can talk about it you know?"

"What?" He asks, slightly exasperated, you hand him his glasses. "Please, like I don't know that you are feeling betrayed for Tamaki disbanding the host club"

"I'm not, I know why he's doing it, I understand...his grandmother has probably given him an offer he can't refuse" he accepts the glasses, sitting up in the bed, you sit on the edge. "Just because you understand doesn't mean you can't feel sad about it, I mean you two built the host club together, you've dedicated the past three years of your life to it"

"Well...it's like you said, life has started to catch up with us. I need a coffee" Kyoya gets out of bed, leaving you sat there alone, sighing as you know that was probably the most you're going going to get out of him today.

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The host club seems so much quieter without the presence of Tamaki, or perhaps you could not be bothered listening today. Noting that Haruhi is currently sat with Lady Eclair. "What does she want with Haruhi?"

"She's paid off Haruhi's debt" your head snaps to Kyoya "What?"

He nods in confirmation "Indeed, I am going to go over in a second an inform her that she can quit if she wants to" you watch in mild dispair as he steps ahead of you towards Haruhi, who is now sat alone.

"Thank you for all your service Haruhi, after that last request from Lady Eclair you've finally repaid us for that renaissance vase you broke. So you're free to quit the host club, if you want"

A weakness overtakes in your knees as reality suddenly hits you. This was the end. Everything is falling apart, and this little family you built for yourself in Japan is over.

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This is our Ouran fair!

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Yoshio Ootori and your father walk past "When they're young, many assume they have all the time in the world. but really that is never the case. Don't waste your time with something that will ultimately have no value"

Haruhi stands "You don't know anything about the host club, or your children. Kyoya-senpai works around the clock to make sure that everyone is enjoying themselves, Y/n-senpai coordinates events that would seem impossible on near impossible deadlines flawlessly and did you ever stop to think that entertaining others might give each of us fulfillment? How can you possibly say that what we do here is just a waste of time? I don't care what you say, the two of them are amazing" your fathers don't reply, just moving on.

"Haruhi..." you trail off, at a loss for words as you step closer. "I don't understand how they can be like that"

"We were born into a system that makes money, not families, there is no changing their minds, but it's okay, we've known that for while"

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As the sun sets it is clear that Tamaki is not going to show up for the parade. Despite that it does not stop Kyoya from pacing up and down the club room on the phone waiting for Tamaki to pick up.

"Kyoya-senpai what's with these outfits?"

"We told you its a costume for the special parade"

"You look so cute Haru-chan!"

"I don't know where Tamaki got this dress from but it's much elss 18th century france and more regency england" You call from the changing room. Stepping out in a silver gown with empire waist line.

"Well?" You look to Kyoya "You look great"

You roll your eyes "Thank you but I meant Tamaki"

"No luck, he's not there"

"I can't believe Senpai didn't show, I really thought he was gonna make it despite what she said"

Kyoya gets his phone back out, dialing a new number "Hello shima? been a while hasn't it? It's kyoya"

"This is about master Tamaki isn't it? I'm sorry Kyoya but the master will be departing for France soon. I tried to talk him out of it, but he said the Suoh family had forgiven his beloved mother, and that he was finally going to get to see her again. He also said that if stayed at Ouran any longer, his capriciousness would only continue to make trouble for you and everyone else in the club"

"How could he be so stupid? Evidently Tamaki is planning on returning to France"

"Tama-chan is going to leave us?"

"You're kidding me! We just can't let it end so suddenly!"

"Excuse me sir" it turns out Shima is still on the line, Kyoya raises his phone back to his ear "Yes?"

"I was just thinking. If the master's mother really is as remarkable a woman as he claims she is, then i can only imagine that she would be upset with the manner in which the master has chosen to leave Ouran academy."

"Do you know when he's leaving Shima?"

"I'm afraid his flight is this evening"

"Why is he leaving so soon?"

"He would have left sooner, but he said he had to wait until the ouran fair was ending" Kyoya spots a red convertible through the window, driving off with Tamaki and Lady eclair in it. "Tamaki!"

"No way!"

"The fair hasn't even ended yet"

"My family's car should be in the parking lot"

The door creaks open, footsteps of three men enter the room. "Father?" You raise an eyebrow.

"Say your goodbyes y/n, I am taking you back to Italy"

Your heart sinks "What? Why...huh?"

"You have become loud, it is clear that this school has not had a good influence on you"

You raise your chin "You can't make me go"

He smiles, nodding to the two men next to him, two members of teh ootori's private police. "On the contrary" The men step forward, each taking your arm in a vice grip "Wait what? you can't do this?"

"I will handcuff you the the plane if i must" the two men starts to drag you "Wait what? Kyoya!"

Kyoya barks orders at tehm to stop but he already knew that it was useless. "y/n!" "y/n-senpai!"

"Relax Kyoya, you will see her in a couple of years on your wedding day, until then I am never letting her out of my sight again"

Kyoya's face falls, no, he can't lose you both, he can't wait that long.

You struggle, you fight hard but there is no getting out of their grip. "Kyoya you know what to do!" You manage to get loose just enough to slide your phone out of your pocket and throws it to him, ultimately letting the tide take you.

With shaky hands he flips open your phone, hovering over the contact 'S.J' pressing send on the message you had typed up in case of emergency.

Kaoru places a hand on his shoulder "Come on, if we run we can still get her, honey? Mori?" the two of them salute "Sir!"

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The club darts to the family car "We're in a hurry can you drive us?"

"I'm sorry sir but..." "What is it? What is wrong?"

"Well, you see the thing is..." more and more members of the black onion squad start to appear around the parking block. "You want to tell me your orders? Let me guess, you've been hired to protect lady eclair and make sure that Y/n gets back to Italy"

"I'm truly sorry it has come to this, but as you know, we answer to your father"

A muffled banging catches Kyoya's attention, drawing it to a nearby police truck. There was no way that you were in there...unless it was, and they were treating you like an actual prisoner.

Kyoya hits the front of the car, denting it "Damn it"

Galloping catches everyones attention, the horse and carriage bursting through the crowd, sending a few officers to the floor. Honey and Mori jump out "Hikaru take the carriage, if you use the back hills bypass, you can cut them off"

"It's haninozuka!" "And morinozuka!"

the twins climb into the carriage turning back to hauhi "Come on!"

Kyoya places his hands on her shoulders "Haruhi, go get that idiot, hurry" he pushes her into the carriage "Now go! This is your chance!"

Hikaru nods, cracking the reins, the carriage taking off. "Don't just stand there! Stop that carriage!" Honey jumps on him. "Takashi don't go easy on them"

"Don't worry, I won't"

Soon the officers end up in a pile on top of each other "I warned you guys, picking on my friends is a big no no!"

"You should never underestimtate the ouran host club" Kyoya turns back to the truck, pulling at the bar lock, pushing it open.

"Kyoya?"

"Y/n-chan!" Honey launches forward, tackling you into a hug "Honey-senpai"

"I thought you were going to leave" He wells up in tears. You laugh out a couple of tears yourself "Yeah...so did i..."

Mori picks up Honey "Give them some time" he carries him away.

The two of you stand staring at eachother for a moment, frozen in time, staring at eachother.

After a moment passes Kyoya can't take it anymore, making the move to walk up and envelope you in a hug.

"You scared me"

"I..." he just holds you tighter "I can't...I don't want you to leave...I don't...want to wait years to see you again...I....I L-" you place a finger to his lips

"You idiot...like I want to leave, like I want to wait years to see you...I waited...well years... for us to get to as we are now...and I will wait longer...but I'd rather have you at an arms length than not have you at all."

Mori and Honey pull up in their own car "Come on"

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"Hey boss!"

"Tama-chan!" The twins and Mori run down to the riverside where Tamaki and Haruhi are stood. Kyoya sighs from up by the car where the two of you are stood with Mori "Oh man, he's such a Moron"

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The ball was certainly a grand one, practically the versailles palace ball recreated in the ouran academy courtyard. "May I have this dance?" you turn around, Kyoya offering his hand. You smile, taking his hand.

Overlooking the courtyard is the chairmans office, where The chairman, Mr Ootori, and Your father are sat.

"I'm sorry that we caused you concern, it looks as though grand tonnerre, will not be purchasing my company after all. An expected backer turned up, they bought the company before Tonnerre had the chance and the backer said that while I will keep the title of CEO honorarily, all he management rights have been passed over to a new board he's appointed. Including Mr. Maihara"

"Your rival? That was a bold move, which funds manager was it?"

"A student investor, called K.O. He cleverly left his name out of the deal, but it didn't take me long to figure out who it was . K.O. is Kyoya Ootori, the new backer was none other than my own son"

"At least we know we don't have to worry about the future. I thought I thought I knew how brilliant Kyoya was, but it seems even smarter than I thought."

"Maybe so, but I think you son is the one who's truly amazing. I am responsible for the entirety of Kyoya's education. I always knew he would surpass his older brothers someday. However, i must say i'm shocked, while I can imagine Kyoya taking over a company, I never dreamed that he'd turn it around and give it right back to it's original owner. As Kyoya grew up I was constantly dangling the Ootori family companies in front of his face, torturing him with something he could never have. Now, not only has he taken it out from under me by force, but he's basically told me he doesn't want it and doesn't trust me to run it. Do you know what that means? It means he's finally found something of more value, and that is probably thanks to your daughter"

Your father tsks "I would not take it as such the wholesome action Yoshio. By keeping your name as the face of the company it is ensuring that you are still liable for anything that could reflect negatively upon it."

A ding draws the mens attentions to their phones.

'1 new email: play me'

The video attatched blares across the room, it is you, from months ago, sat in your fathers office in Italy "If you are watching this then you have left me no choice in going over your head. While I have had my suspicions for months I finally have the evidence of the ootori group breaking the law, and in turn the l/n group becoming accessories for covering it up. The most interesting thing about it is that the only people that know about it is the people who this email has been sent to. Well...I thought that we should let people in on that little secret, by now there should have been similar emails sent to all the CEO's and CFO's of your companies, but those emails has all the evidence I gathered. For all intents and purposes both your roles in the l/n and ootori groups are in name, all managerial rights have been reverted to either myself, kyoya, his brothers, or whoever we choose to appoint"

You sigh, Kyoya placing a hand on your shoulder in the video. "For the longest time I have debated turning you both over to the authorities, but frankly i don't think you two deserve a justice system that I know you can easily bribe yourself out to. So i'm taking things into my own hands. You may find that both of your personal salaries may take a significant pay cut, you see we needed to find the money to give the families you hurt the compensation they deserve from somewhere. I'd reccomend transferring your assets into an early inheritance for your children before they get seized"

The video ends, leaving the office to be plunged into silence. "Your daughter is ruthless"

Your father looks down at the courtyard, down at the sight of the two of you dancing "Unfortunately....she is exactly who I raised her to be"

Only those with excellent social standing and those from filthy rich families are lucky enough to spend their time here at the elite private school Ouran academy.

The ouran host club is where the school's handsomest boys, with too much time on their hands entertain young ladies who also have way too much time on their hands.

Think of it as Ouran academy's elegant playground for the super rich and beautiful.

Remember, you're welcome to visit us in music room three whenever you'd like to. The ouran host club will be waiting for you.

And we want to thank you from the bottom of our hearts.

We'll see you then!

Next time on patience....Season 2!

Tag list (reply to be added): @skottch @cgmajor @rebirthbunbun @bbybubbles @blueberry19000 @katgirl05 @smellslikelovinglies @veras-fanfic-reblogs @sadprimrose @mirtalikesdr @sleeplesssskeleton @ritzes28 @crackpeole @rory-cakes @renjunniex @II-kita-san-II @angelicwillows @missbrebre1012 @sleep-7372 @strawberrbitch @reticent-writer @eternal-dokja @meme848 @mistyhydrangeagarden @nanaloverz @hyuninslutbbgirl @rebel-author-chick @voyager1fan @bubbabobabubbles @haowonbins @justtryingtosurvive02

[andhumanslovedstories]

If You Don't Have Store-Bought Character Growth, Homemade is Fine (chapter 15)

Luo Binghe knew he had demonic heritage. As he got older, his blood's influence became more and more apparent. He embraced the power it gave him and tried hard to stomp down everything else. His attraction was disgusting, violent, possessive, frightening—nothing Shizun could possibly tolerate. Nothing Shizun deserved. To win Shizun’s love, it was not enough to get older and attain glory, though both were essential parts of Luo Binghe’s elaborate forty-part seduction plan. Luo Binghe needed Shizun to feel safe. Hearing that Luo Binghe dreamed of ripping open his own chest and tucking Shizun within his ribs and viscera  so that no one could ever hurt him again was not what would make Shizun feel safe. 

(“Hey kid,” Meng Mo had said after that dream. “What the fuck.”)

ch 15 of ??? (but my current outline says 22) on AO3

So much dvd commentary:

This chapter is, astonishingly, exactly how I outlined. Some of the sections are in different places, but I managed to get through without adding another POV, introducing a new subplot, or going into such detail that I had to split the chapter in half. It IS about 8,000 words, but it's still one chapter. That's a win in my book.

With this chapter, I hit a total word count of about 85,000 with the first chapter posted in August. That's about 14,000 words a month. Fourteen thousand words, by the way, was my original lestimate for the whole thing. My new wordcount goal is to not double my wordcount before the story is over. In theory, that 85,000 represents about 2/3s of the story, but also I know how my long fic tendencies work. The later chapters always get longer and longer and longer.

The first chapter of Homesick (total word count 118,000) is 4k words. The last chapter of Homesick (not counting epilogue) is 16k. Character Growth fic has so many plot and character threads I want to wrap up. That's the thing about doing a canon rewrite (A PARTIAL CANON REWRITE. I'M NOT DOING ALL FOUR BOOKS)--I want to address all the parts of canon that would be affected by this AU. And then there's the stuff I invented for the fanfic, which also need to be resolved.

The increasing length and detail is the result of the stories being an evolving work in progress. I've always known the ending of the story and the very broad strokes of how we're getting there, but the details that texture the story develop as I'm actually writing. That means I'm adding stuff to current chapters because I find them interesting but also because I might need them later. The reason this fic has gotten so long is because I want big moments to feel like they had good buildup, but I'm not always sure what will be most useful for those big moments before I'm actually writing the scenes in context. So I want to have multiple elements I can draw upon, but I don't want those elements to feel unresolved if they never appear again. Like Yao Lijuan, for example. I wasn't sure if I'd need her again in a later chapter, so I tried to write her previous sections in a way where I could either bring her back as a pov character or keep her as a fairly simple joke.

Ocs in general are one of the most versatile tools I have for making narrative choices while still keeping my options open. It's so delightful to me when people comment that they like my OCs in chapters where the OCs are prominently featured, because I think very heard about how to give them a narrative purpose that couldn’t be filled by a canon character. I want to have a reason that I’m not just writing like Ning Yingying here instead. I'm aware fanfic is for fun and I can do whatever I want, but I find it really fun to deal with the challenge of "justifying" an original character.

Yao Lijuan was originally conceived because I wanted to show an outside POV on this timeline's Shen Qingqiu and on Qing Jing Peak in general. I also use Liu Qingge (and to a smaller degree Mu Qingfang) as outside POVs, but they're both Shen Qingqiu's peer. I wanted an outside POV from a younger geneartion disciple talking to other disciples, so I invented a feral ten-year-old girl from a rival peak. In addition to her filling this POV role I wanted, her voice is also SUPER useful to me. She's blunt, shameless, and knows what she wants. It's so easy to keep conversations and action moving with her because she just plows forward as reasonable characters try to keep up. She's the younger generation equivalent of LQG in that way, except with none of the relationship baggage.

That's the main reason I have certain OCs in this story. For the story I have in mind, I want SQQ to have relationships and conversations that don't have the weight of canon attached to them. There are things I want SQQ to do, say, or think that would be a lot harder if he’s interacting with someone who has set characterization and relationships. Like sometimes you don’t want to think about Ming Fang’s interior life.

Yao Lijuan emerged to be an outside POV disciple because I wanted to show how the younger generation views the new SQQ. She’s also there to characterize Bai Zhan Peak culture. Interacting with her in turn characterizes Qing Jing culture. The relationship between Bai Zhan and Qing Jing has ended up being more prominent than I originally anticipated, because that relationship functions as a representation of both Shen Qingqiu and Liu Qingge's relationship and as Cang Qiong versus Shen Qingqiu in general. The canon presents LQG and SQQ as bitter enemies prior to transmigration at which point LQG gets so down bad. I wanted that present in a lesser degree between the peaks themselves. Enemies to people who hang out together an inexplicable amount.

The OCs narrative need molds their personality, sometimes drastically from my original idea. The previous Qing Jing head disciple evolved as in response to what I needed to show about canon characters. In the originally posted version of her first appearance, she was straight up the peak lord. I snuck back in and retconned that when I realized that I wanted a foil for head disciple Shen Jiu, not Peak Lord Shen Qingqiu. Shen Jiu was originally going to kill her, but I thought that was too evil. Then she was going to die off-screen so he could become head disciple, but then I thought it was too easy.

I also thought about how if I want him ousting her to be a character moment with SJ that had weight to it, then Dai Qinglai should to be more sympathetic. But I’d already written her as affably abrasive and openly skeptical of SJ. I’d written it that way to compare to LBH’s tea ceremony with SQQ. So what way do I want her relationship with SJ to contrast with LBH and SQQ’s? I liked SJ seeing enough of himself in DQL and LBH that he can’t control his bitterness and envy. If they are like him, what would it mean if they were happy or successful and he wasn’t? Either something is wrong with him or something is wrong with the world, and he believes whichever version brings him the most satisfaction.

At the same time, I’m trying to figure out why Dai Qinglai is the one to welcome SJ? I was like, okay maybe the actual lord is absent so she’s in running the peak. The next question is if she’s doing a good job. I decided yes so she would be a genuine threat to SJ’s aspirations. Then since I was writing this in between scenes with Ming Fan, I shaped her so that she would be an interest foil to him. She’s someone who is considered by her shizun to be remarkable but too withholding and sly. She doesn’t like or respect her master. Meanwhile Ming Fan is a dedicated SQQ flunky, completely loyal and desperate to please. This isn’t not a major element on page in the outline, but I keep this comparison I’ve drawn in mind when I write Ming Fan and SQQ. Ming Fan’s narrative needs shape her character.

I also realized that I could pull in more of Shen Jiu's sexual trauma. I didn't want to write him as a sexual predator (again, I think that would be a bridge too far) but I wanted to show him inflicting his traumas upon others by betraying her in a way that relies upon sex work. He’s aware that she did a brave thing in being open about her past with him, and he cannot accept her doing that because he cannot conceive of reciprocating. He is misunderstood because he wants to be. He is incapable of the vulnerability of openness. And since Shen Jiu visiting brothels is such a big part of his character, I knew that we’d inevitably have a scene in a brothel, I just didn’t know when, so I did myself a favor by giving myself material to build on later.

Chapters later, when I wanted to flesh out the history of the previous generation in Liu Qingge's, I already had a character that I could use that was connected to Shen Jiu. Since Liu Qingge is reflecting on/responding to new knowledge about SJ being abused, it made sense for him to think about someone willing to say another peak is harboring an abuser. We see Dai Qinglai as the only person standing up to a repeat predator in the sect, and that this action is neither successful nor popular. That something about her but also about Liu Qingge for the way he recounts it and sect politics in general.

Plus, she had only been seen from SJ’s pov. SQQ is such an unreliable narrator and I want to constantly draw attention to that, which means multiple narrators dealing with the same or similar events, noticing different traits than he would and offering different opinions.

Besides just wanting to give Liu Qingge narrative space to react to the last chapter, I wanted to zoom out to look at the sect as a whole. Part of the issue of Original Shen Qingqiu was that he had no checks on his actions. His misconduct and abuse is tolerated. Additionally, Luo Binghe is bullied by basically everyone. Both of those speak to a more systemic problem than just one cruel peak lord. I could characterize the sect and LQG through this recounting of failed attempts to check an abuser’s actions through proper process and the ultimate solution of circumventing the official process to just beat the shit out of the guy.

I could have used a canon character in that role, but none of them were perfect. MQF didn’t have the right personality, Yue Qingyuan would have required giving the event more narrative weight than I wanted, and the other canonical peak lords haven’t really come up. And I knew that the next chapter or two was going to involve the brothel, and that DQL was going to be connected to the brothel, so if she was the character challenging LQG, then I can further characterize her which characterizes SJ by proxy for his decision to betray her AND remind people that she exists before she became plot relevant again.

That’s how plotting and characterization usually works for me. I like it when any given detail is able to serve at least four different needs. And thinking about narrative purpose and intent rather than specific plot actions helps me get out of ruts. Makes me thinking on a structural level.

I hope these are interesting to read, btw. I love hearing how authors think about their stories and find it very useful for my own writing. I'm not trying to like "explain how to read the story" or anything like that, but to show (some of) the reasoning that goes on behind the scenes for people like me who find the mechanics of writing fascinating.

[nonotnolan]

No Not Nolan's Year in Review

Once again, it's time for the traditional "year in review" post. Since I've also been collecting prior years in these posts: here's 2021, here's 2022, and here's 2023. This year has more than 12 posts, and that's because I posted a few shorter stories to celebrate the release of my eBook.

I'm not planning to abandon this account anytime soon, but I'd be lying if the thought hadn't occurred to me once or twice. Every year I'm not sure how much longer I'll be doing this, but then every year the support and feedback I receive keeps me going. So if you ever wonder if notes and reblogs help-- yes, they do motivate me to keep going. But more than that, I'd encourage you to message the authors directly. I'm not always the best at carrying a conversation, but it really does mean a lot whenever I hear from you all.

17) Side Effects - 71 notes - January 2024 Okay, well... I like this one. If you've already caused a lot of irreversible damage... why stop now?

16) Labor and Materials - 83 notes - December 2023 Sometimes I can just sort of tell the photos aren't what the average people are wanting, but I like the text too much to toss out the idea. Mass commercialization of body swapping isn't a new idea by any means, but I love exploring all of the low stakes uses and scenarios that would appear if that technology existed.

15) Shapeshifter's Night Out - 111 notes - January 2024 Honestly, this one was mostly just an excuse to pull out a few of the weirder photos I'd come across. I think it holds up well enough, though.

14) Fiverr Warlock: Holiday Magic - 183 notes - December 2023 The thing about the Fiverr Warlock series is that a lot of story ideas work better without the added baggage of the lore and narrator. This one holds up pretty well, and the photos do exactly what I need them to do, so I'm quite fond of it.

13) The Ends Justify The Means - 204 notes - February 2024 See, I thought this one was great, especially for the Valentine's Holiday. Sometimes I have no idea what the average reader wants from me, and this is a prime example of that. No regrets, though. I'm never going to apologize for striking more sentimental than erotic.

12) Jock Cock, Part 3 - 219 notes - July 2024 Speaking of which... I can't be too surprised something this sentimental didn't do better. But I still love it, and I don't feel bad about it. (It does, however, make me less inclined to write sequels to other works. My idea about how the story continues vs how people want me to continue the story are seldom in alignment.)

11) Drawing Straws - 235 notes - January 2024 I love trait swapping, and I wish I could get inspired to use it more often. I have to be satisfied with an idea before I'll set it to the page-- it needs to have some amount of characterization and plot outside of "hot guy does a hot thing and it's hot" for me to be happy with it-- so trait swaps don't happen too often for me.

10) Treat Day - 241 notes - January 2024 This is my least favorite of the 5 promo-stories, so naturally it's the one that received the most notes. Revenge swaps are hit or miss for me, but needlessly cruel swaps seldom appeal to me. I like the photos, I like the ending wordplay, but overall it's not one of my favorites.

9) Swap Broker: Social Climbing - 250 notes - October 2024 If there's any story whose low placement on the list hurts to see, it's this one-- I absolutely love this one. Photos, concept, resolution, all of it. Ahh, well. A few people asked me what happened to the original Aiden, which I don't have much interest in writing, but... his father would have given him a one time chunk of hush money, which he would have burned through in a matter of months, at which point he'd probably be forced to start doing hard work for the first time in his life. It's not a happy outcome, which is why it's not a story I'm particularly interested in telling.

8) Jock Cock, Part 2 - 285 notes - June 2024 Like I mentioned for Part 3-- I don't regret writing it, even if I don't quite understand why it wasn't as well received. I'm not sorry for mixing sincere emotions into your casual smut-- it was intentional, and it will happen again. Also I've been doing it for the past 5 years, so presumably you noticed me doing that at least once before? I'm sure it's not a photo issue. Anyway.

7) Spring Break - 313 notes - March 2024 I love it when both parties can get what they want out of a body swap. I've had quite a few stories involving out of touch rich people, now that I think about it-- but then, every idea has already been done before if you simplify it enough.

6) Bodily Betrayal - 319 notes - December 2024 I'm so thrilled to be working with photo-manip artists for future detachable limb stories. You all may not be bothered by my attempts to create suitable pictures, but I definitely am. I mean, look at these pics-- head/body swap? Headless with head in hand? I wouldn't have been able to do that without a lot of practice and training.

5) Trial Period - 351 notes - November 2024 I don't do much with ghosts, and I'm honestly not planning to change that anytime soon. Still, I love the idea of supernatural entities shopping around to choose their next host.

4) This Happens all the Time, It's Detachable - 376 notes - August 2024 This is another one that I absolutely adore, and as a bonus it's a detachable story that requires no photo-manip work whatsoever. Obviously, I had to go with the King Missile reference in the title.

3) Roommate Rehab - 407 notes - April 2024 I still think my photo-manip work is clunky, but it gets the job done, and that's what matters. The interesting thing about writing more detachable works is that I'm really not familiar with any of the tropes. I'm so used to subverting expectations when I write body swap fiction, but it's a lot harder to subvert tropes that I don't know.

2) Rush Week - 512 notes - September 2024 I'm glad this one did well, because it's definitely a lot more vulnerable than what I normally write. It's equal parts sincere and sexy, and I adore it. The thought of what stays with the body and what stays with the mind is one of my favorite concepts to explore with body swapping. On a different tangent, it was a lot harder than I thought it would be to find good photos for a twink model that pass tumblr guidelines.

1) Jock Cock, Part 1 - 732 notes - May 2024 This story came out of nowhere and completely surpassed all of my expectations. I have no idea what it is about this story that appealed to so many people-- probably obvious, given how few notes the other parts pulled. Is it the photos? The idea of using an athlete's body for sex without him knowing? Unfulfilled sex-with-teacher fantasies? I sure as hell don't know. Whatever the reason, I'm flattered.

Above 500 Notes - All Time

1) Jock Cock, Part 1 - 732 notes - May 2024 2) Soulmate Swap - 704 notes - August 2022 3) Gym Merchandise - 654 notes - September 2022 4) Overbearing - 572 notes - May 2022 5) Finals Week - 568 notes - May 2021 6) Group Project - 566 notes - November 2023 6) Revenge, Reversed - 540 notes - August 2020 7) Rookie Mistake - 530 notes - May 2023 8) Rush Week - 512 notes - September 2024 8) Information Overload - 501 notes - August 2021

Well, Jock Cock Part 1 has officially dethroned... uhh, literally everything else. Finals Week, my first piece to break the 500 notes mark, is quickly dropping out of the top 5. And some of these works received random resurgences several months (or years!) later, so that's always fun to see.

Enough time has passed that I have a sort of note rubric to determine success. Anything below 100 notes, I consider flopped. 100-300 is average, and 300-500 is a success. So to have this many stories above 500? It feels pretty good.

Here's hoping next year will see more additions to this list!

Special Mentions

Reunion - 151 notes - February 2024 Once again, @mergeman and I wrote each other stories for Valentine's Day. I do really love the idea of a support group for people affected by body swaps.

I'm always honored whenever I end up tagged in someone's recommended post, and @sanzaibian 's compliment of "someone who writes really sweet love stories ^^" is no exception.

Also, like I said earlier-- I live for compliments and discussion, both given and received. If you've dropped a line or responded to one of my outreach attempts, I appreciate you. If we've talked in the past but it's been a few months since you or I sent the last message-- I'm too ADHD for friendships that follow the constraints of linear time. If we go months between messages, know that I still appreciate you.

Is it too cheesy to end this with a "thanks for viewers like you" sentiment? Maybe, but I'm doing it anyway. I'd be having these ideas with or without an outlet for sharing them, so I really do appreciate the likes and reblogs. Here's to another year!

[daltonsnightmare]

Maple's MacGyver Fic Recs

Now I know I'm very late to the party, but I'd like to think of it as fashionably *cough*5 years*cough* late :) This has been a work in progress for awhile, but the Cairo Day Q&A about favorite fanworks inspired me to finally post this- Hope you're all excited for a list of fics everybody and their dog has already read and loved LOL

If you enjoy angsty stories featuring whump and hurt/comfort as much as I do, you're probably gonna love these too. (As a reminder, always double-check the tags before reading! Take care of yourselves💕)

Palmful of Sunlight and Promise by OrionLady

Mac knows he won’t make it out of this latest abduction alive. Not with experimental chemicals being pumped into him in horrific doses. The hallucination wearing Jack’s face—who claims he never died—has other ideas about that. (Touch separated by inches is the greatest torture of all.)

Starting this list off right with what quickly became one of my favorite fics of all time- across every fandom I've ever been a part of. The perfect balance of angst and comfort, this is a beautiful story with a lot of care and heart that brings Jack Dalton back, and for Mac, just in the nick of time. I think I've reread this one more times than I could count- it really is that good. If you decide to read it though, I'd definitely recommend having some tissues handy.

[add'l warnings: non-consensual drugging, suicidal thoughts and actions]

Hello To The Night by gaelicspirit

Around S4 episodes 9 and 10. Turns out emotional trauma + concussions + experimental drugs don’t mix quite as easily as one might think. Mac’s dark side does more than toss him a creepy grin from the other side of a window when getting “lost in his head” is taken up a notch. And the only thing that is going to save him is the team coming together as a family-the whole team.

It was quite hard to pick only a single fic to recommend from this brilliant author (their whole Ambassador series comes to mind, which is definitely worth a read) but this one has everything I wished would have happened after 4x10. If you're looking for heartbreaking moments of Mac nearing the end of his rope, the team realizing how they failed Mac during s4, and a surprise fix-it to tie it all together, this one's for you.

Mac + Desert + Jack by @impossiblepluto

Turns out, escaping from the fallout shelter was just the beginning. Now they have to survive the aftermath, dehydration and the desert. Continuation from where episode 3x11 Mac + Fallout + Jack left off

Now I know we all already know how amazing ImpossiblePluto is, and I can't help but give this one in particular a spotlight. This is a fantastic follow-up to an episode I'm sure we all can agree ended way too quickly, and without much resolution. If that bothered you as much as it did me, this is genuinely a gift from the heavens; Mac has to grapple with the fact he shot his best friend, and after surviving the whole ordeal, the combination of exhaustion, sleep deprivation, and scorching desert heat makes those demons all too real. Time is running out for the both of them, but Jack is right there by Mac's side, even if his partner no longer knows it.

The Art of Showing Up (And Staying) by @lupinescribbler

“Hey! This is Jack the Dalton speaking. Probably couldn’t catch your call due to doing cool… bathroom tile salesman… stuff. Leave a message and I’ll hit you back up. Ciao!” “I don’t know where I am right now.” Mac mumbled. He was aware he was slurring, slightly. He felt like he weighed a million pounds, or maybe like he’d been welded in place into his car. Immovable. Lethargic. His skin felt damp, he didn’t know if he was sweating or bleeding. He felt too cold to be sweating. “But I need help. Can you…” Mac closed his eyes. Can you what? Find me? Not leave me? Just talk to me? The voicemail beeped, marking an end to the message. Mac redialed.

I've already recommended Reichenbach on here (and I still definitely do) but if you're not a fan of AUs, this one is well worth the read. Delicious whump, snapshots of Mac and Jack's time downrange, and insightful commentary on how their relationship has evolved over time, this one is very sweet! (and also features amazing art from both LupineScribbler and Lilituism! Ooooh you wanna check it out so bad. I know you do. And while you're at it, Lupine's got a bunch of other wonderful fics for you to read, too.)

[add'l warnings: car accidents]

Veisalgia by @lilituism

The Phoenix Foundation was invited to a charity gala and Matty sent Mac and Jack to attend. No one had invited Murdoc, but he showed up anyway.

I was originally going to recommend The Darkest Hour (and still do, if you're down for something a bit darker) but if you're not in the mood for something that heavy, then this one is a real treat. Featuring Murdoc and our boys at a gala, things take a turn for the worse when Mac is slipped a fast-acting poison. If reading about Mac being in pain gives you butterflies, you'll love this one (as well as all their other fics!)

Broken Trust by @bloodfromthethorn

Even now, hours later, he couldn’t shake the memory of Jack’s shoulder driving into his sternum, a too-tight grip on his bicep forcing him sideways as the man he trusted more than anyone else in the world physically moved through him rather than listen to what he had to say. Tag to 2x02. Mac didn't walk away from his encounter with Jack as unscathed as he might wish to appear.

Another quite difficult one to pick, as every MacGyver fic from BloodFromTheThorn is excellent (go check out Part of the Job if you're in the mood for some whump with intriguing plotlines & scenarios) but Broken Trust is definitely one I go back to read often- I feel that this one is the aftermath of 2x02 that was so sorely needed. We all know Mac gets lost in his head, but what happens when his partner is the one causing his heartache? (This is also one I have personally needed tissues for on certain nights, just fyi)

Some Truths Are Hard To Define by @altschmerzes

There are a number of conflicting theories, among various and sundry members of the Dalton family tree, on how exactly the young blonde man they have concluded has to be Jack’s kid came to be. Seeing as he can’t have just sprung forth unto the earth fully formed, there has to be an explanation, and since nobody met him until he was out of high school, the explanation has to be something good. (or, the one where jack finds out after five years of bringing mac to family reunions that his family thinks he has a son)

Incredibly heartwarming story about Mac being "mistaken" for Jack's son. Spot-on characterization, and adorable moments of Mac being the greatest cousin ever to the kiddos, nieces, and nephews of the Dalton family. Also, I think I'm just going to add a caveat to each of these that every story by these authors is worth checking out (you won't regret it, especially with Gav's fics, here!)

Gaslighting + Blame Game + Optical Illusions by @m0ns00n53

Tammy doesn’t understand why such a quiet, intelligent man keeps getting stood up on his Friday lunch dates. She’s understandably a little terse when his neglectful son finally shows up one day, after weeks of disappointment. Luckily, Jack is there to clear things up.

This was another hard one to pick (Sergeant + Specialist is a must-read in my book, but due to it's subject matter being on the heavier side, here's something a little different) I'm such a sucker for Jack being there for his boy, as well as any older person within a 50-mile radius falling for Mac's charm and wanting to adopt him as their own. A lovely little follow-up to 3x04 that's a whole hell of a lot better written than that episode was, I assure you. With fantastic characterization, attention to detail, and fun fleshing out of background characters, I hope you all like this one as much as I did!

Flour + SAK + Landline by Sapless_Tree

Whumptober No. 4 + ALT 1 Prompt: hostage + losing control Somehow, things were blurry again, looping and swirling and doubling. Mac furrowed his eyebrows and blinked hard. “Now, isn't that better, Angus?"

In the mood for some Mac torture at the hands of Murdoc? Me too. This one's a fantastic fic that kept me on the edge of my seat and holding my breath the whole time. Really delightful despite maybe because of? the subject matter, and adds a healthy does of Protective!Mac, as well as his fear of heights. I certainly enjoyed reading this, and I'm sure you will too. (P.S. check out Nightcall for some incredible sickfic whumperflies)

[add'l warnings: non-consensual drugging, torture with a swiss army knife]

Lost Cause + Voicemail by @ariwritessometimes

Jack is dead. Jack is dead, but Mac still calls his phone. Leaves an occasional message, as if it’s just any ordinary day and Jack just happened to leave his phone off. When a field op turns fatal, Mac makes a phone call to Jack’s voicemail just to hear him one last time. Little does he know, there's someone listening on the other end.

I adore this one (and not only because Jack lives and gets reunited with his kids) but also because I feel like it could be (and should have been, if you ask me) an episode in of itself. Each part of Ari's Phone Calls series is phenomenal, and if you want to read a devastating take on how Mac deals with Jack's absence, you'll love it.

Truth Serum + Failed Rescue + GSW by @rosieblogstuff

There had always been the possibility that Jack just wouldn’t get caught, or that he’d shoot his way out if he did. Otherwise they would have both gone in. Mac would have insisted on that, because he hates it, absolutely hates it, when the entire plan is for Jack to put himself between Mac and danger. That’s not how partnership should work. Mac, with his blue eyes and blond hair, can’t really pass as a local, but Jack can pull it off just fine. The right jacket, some artfully placed smudges on his face, a cap from a very non-tourist part of the local market, combined with just the right swagger, and there’s a decent chance that nobody will give him a second glance. So maybe he can get in, grab the intel, and get back out without even being spotted. But of course it couldn't just be that easy.

A twist on 1x12 Screwdriver's cold open, with Jack drugged up before being rescued by Mac. Both of the boys get whumped in this one, and struggle to make exfil. I love how Jack's uninhibited inner thoughts are written, and how much he worries about Mac. (A runner up in a similar vein would be Lake + Stick + Fever, another gem that deserves to be recognized)

A Legend In One's Own Time by @appalachianapologies

A look at 1x08 and the lasting effects that would end up shaping Mac's choices in 5x14. Mostly, Loretta being the best mom there is.

A wonderful (and heartbreaking) story detailing Mac's feelings after the events of Corkscrew, as well as Mac and Loretta Bozer's relationship. I consider everything in this fic to be canon, honestly- It's quite good. Also, if you were hoping that in 5x14 she would have talked to Mac as well after figuring out what Bozer does for a living, you'll love this as much as I did. (Side note, I HIGHLY recommend Vi's Schrödinger's Sandbox series. It's another one I love to revisit time and time again)

If you've got troubles, I've got 'em too by @nativestarwrites

The first manhunt Bozer ever helped with was when he was twelve and Mac had run away after getting into trouble for blowing up the chemistry lab. This is the story of how he was found.

A lovely little fic with a dash of fluff and angst about little Bozer being the best brother in the world to his troubled friend. Short and sweet, with nailed characterization. (Check out Nativestar's Sleepy Softness series for some more wonderful fluff)

Rogue + Family + Home by @erinsworld

She knows how bad it looks, but this is Mac... He needs help, not to be hunted and she isn't about to turn her back on him and risk losing him forever.

A wonderful missing scene that we all so desperately needed in late season 4, and I'd say this is the canon we deserved. Incredibly touching and beautifully written (much more in-character than the writers were at the time, I might add) it also features a lovely little moment that I've added to my own personal headcanons. (If you aren't looking for a fix-it for the mess of later seasons, This Ain't Cairo takes an already great episode, Chisel, and adds some very good whump)

Petrichor by @paperxcrowns

He’s sinking back in, the mud refusing to relinquish its hold on him. A shudder runs up Mac’s spine as he drags himself out of the mud. Slowly, painfully, clawing at the earth trying to find a hold to use to free himself. Small roots and grass are ripped loose in his destructive wake of panic. Finally, finally, Mac’s legs pull free from the mud and scrambles back from the unmarked grave. The unmarked grave that almost became his.

I know some of my friends/followers are big fans of the buried alive trope (as am I) and this one delivers it in a BIG way. Incredibly suspenseful and emotional, this is another fic I come back to read time and time again. If you enjoy seeing Mac suffer, you're gonna LOVE this one like I did. Enjoy your time in the cemetery, buddy :) (Additionally, each one of paperxcrown's MacGyver fics is definitely worth checking out)

This Trophy Isn't Real Love by MaritimeSailorsCatherdral

AU end of Season 2: They find Mac's dad, and it goes differently. Tentatively, hoping for the best, Mac agrees to work on repairing and building the relationship with his father that he always wanted. Jack, though he doesn't trust James for a moment, keeps his reservations to himself. But as Mac grows distant and starts acting oddly, it becomes clear that it was more than overprotectiveness or insecurity that led to Jack's concerns. Something bad is happening to Mac, and Jack has a terrible feeling that whatever it is, James MacGyver is to blame. The truth is nothing he'd seen coming.

Ever read something where it feels like a warm fuzzy blanket while simultaneously stabbing you in the gut? This one is like that for me. Tears were shed while reading this one, and the character dynamics here are very special to me. This fic does contain abuse, but also a fair amount of comfort in the aftermath. I'd truly call this one a work of art, and I hope you all appreciate it too. While the author hasn't posted any other stories to this account, this one deserves so much love and more.

[add'l warnings: physical and emotional abuse from a parent]

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Now I know there are many more that are near and dear to my heart that I haven't even mentioned yet, but this post is already getting quite long, so consider this a part one haha. Happy Cairo week everyone, and thank you to all of these very talented people who have shared their works with us to read! Go give them some love <3