#but i did remember being tagged before!! and i went searching specifically for who had tagged me before!!!!

[altruistic-meme]

Rules: Make a poll with five of your all time favourite characters and then tag five people to do the same. See which character is everyone's favourite.

i was tagged by @zerogender-onlyswag and also both @the-viola-urge-to-be-cesario and @kevin-day-is-bi like literally a month and a half ago sdkhgsdg IM FINALLY DOING IT HI I LOVE YOU GUYS THANK YOU MWAH <3

trying to think of blorbos who have entirely and completely consumed my soul is sooo hard cus there are so many i didn't list too ughhhh honorable mentions to Ash Lynx (Banana Fish), Hinata Shoyo (Haikyuu!!), and Crowley (Good Omens) for being some of my biggest comfort characters!!!! where would i be without them!!!!!

i have no idea who has or hasn't been tagged in this ouhhhhh @zee-has-commitment-issues @insomnaticwriter @missmeganlee @recordmcqueen and @irregularcollapse if you guys haven't done it yet and want to join in!

[roseghoul26]

Cooper Howard | The Ghoul x fem!Reader

Tags: Title From A Fall Out Boy, Fame < Infamy by Fall Out Boy, Takes Place Before The Destruction of NCR, Jealousy, Someone Else Flirts With You, Derogatory Language Towards Women, Bisexual The Ghoul, Because Walton Goggins Said So, Arguments, Confessions, First Kiss, Sub Ghoul, Poor Man Is Desperate, Teasing, Edging, Oral Sex, Blowjobs, Cowgirl Position, You Wear His Hat, Light Dom/Sub, Cuddles Synopsis: After two weeks out on the job, you and The Ghoul are spending the night at a bar in Shady Shands relaxing. The Ghoul has always flirted with you, but he never meant anything by it, never did anything more, leaving you frustrated and desperately wanting the man. So when you meet someone who acts on his words, you nearly agree to spend the night with him, hoping to fill your lonely nights with another person instead of thoughts of The Ghoul. But any prospect of enjoying his company is destroyed when The Ghoul beats the man for even looking in your direction. Rightfully angry, an argument between the two of you ensues, leading to things that you only imagined would happen in your thoughts during your lonely nights.  Author’s Note: alright so normally i’m like meh about my own smut writing but i will admit i am a bit proud of this one :D Taglist: @ancientbeing10 @alex-does-art-things

The bar you were currently sitting in was dingy, seedy, and smelled like old food and piss. You didn’t even remember the name of it, too excited for the prospect of a cold drink to care, and you let The Ghoul drag you in. You were sourly disappointed when the Mr. Handy behind the counter handed you a lukewarm beer, not even a single drop of condensation on the brown bottle. 

So here you were, leaning back against a moth-eaten and weathered couch tucked in the corner, nursing a drink that just made you thirstier. He sat next to you, his legs lounged up on the low table in front of you two like he hadn’t a care in the world. You supposed that being alive for over two hundred years would do that to someone. 

The Ghoul had his own drink, a glass of whiskey, more specifically. It used to have ice in it, about ten minutes ago, but it had quickly melted, no doubt watering down the drink. Still, he continued to sip at it, his eyes roaming the crowds in the bar. Your eyes were shut, head resting against the back of the couch, catching up on some much-needed rest.

The Ghoul and you had just come back from a two-week-long excursion of the Wasteland, hunting down a group of escaped convicts from the jail in Shady Sands. Most of the time had been spent walking, searching for clues in the ending sea of sand. It had almost been impossible, but you were able to pick up a trail. It had led you to a long-since abandoned town near the shoreline of California, and after an intense firefight the two of you managed to slay them all; there was no way in hell you were escorting alive prisoners all the way back to Filly. Carrying the heads would be easier. 

And it was, except for the plethora of animals and insects it attracted, but you’d take that over the prisoners fighting you the entire time. Eventually, you and The Ghoul had made it back to Shady Sands, sweaty and covered in blood and exhausted, and dumped the heads onto the desk of the deputy. You don’t think you’ve ever seen a man pale so fast. 

After The Ghoul received the cap reward, he paid for two rooms for the both of you and some sleazy hotel, and after getting washed up he had dragged you to the bar further down the street. You hadn’t had the energy to fight him, but you almost wish you had now. You were barely staying awake, head bobbing as you forced yourself to concentrate on the chatter of patrons to keep you conscious. 

Bringing the drink up to your lips, your muscles cried out in protest, but you just ignored them. The drink itself wasn’t terrible, the flavor was almost citrusy, but it felt like sandpaper as it went down your throat. Wincing, you cleared your throat, garnering the attention of the man beside you. “Surly it ain’t that bad,” he chuckled, and you cracked an eye open at him. 

You didn’t respond, just holding out the drink for him to grab. You were sure to hold it by the neck so he had plenty of space to grab it below, but you felt him grab it in a way that made his gloved finger bush over yours. You kept your face neutral, but you certainly felt your heart react, ticking up in rhythm.

After taking a sip, a similar grimace crossed his face. If he had brows, you’re sure they would be furrowed, his lips curled up in disgust. “Even I can tell that tastes like shit,” he shook his head, forcing the drink back into your hands. There was only an inch of liquid left at the bottom, and so choosing to ignore the fact that his lips had just been on the bottle, you finished it off. 

Setting it on the table, you wiped the back of your mouth with your hand. “It’s not good, sure, but it’s better than anythin’ else I’ve had in the past weeks. “So, I,” you stood with a slight groan, “am gonna get another one.”

You didn’t get too far attempting to step around the table, his legs blocking the easiest way out. A hand grabbed your wrist, tugging you back down on the couch, very nearly toppling into him. You tried to break free, but his grip was unyielding. Not enough to hurt, no, but you were stuck. “Now, what kinda man would I be if I made a pretty thing like you get their own drink?” His words made you still, and you were grateful for the shitty lighting that hid your blush. 

Little did you know that he could see you clearly, an amused smile now on his lips. “That’s what I thought,” he murmured, and you were now able to yank your hand away, glaring harshly at him. “Now,” he lightly patted your thigh, making you jump, “stay here, sweetheart. I’ll be back before you know it.”

You were unable to resist the urge to flip him off as he walked towards the bar, before flopping against the couch with a huff. It wasn’t that you hated that he flirted with you. No, it was quite the opposite. You loved the comments and light touches, making your heart race and less-than-decent thoughts pour into your brain. But from the time the two of you had started working together, so roughly a year ago, that’s all it had been. Soft touches, empty promises, saccharine words and petnames that made you melt, but nothing more. He would always stop before it became more, his touch receding like you’d burned him, a witty remark that quelled the fire he stoked, an I’m just teasin’ ya, sweetheart. God, you hated those words specifically. 

 You wanted more, but it terrified you because you couldn’t tell if he actually meant something by his flirtations, or if he just enjoyed tormenting you. Friends were a rarity in the Wastleland, and you were screwed if you somehow managed to ruin things between you two. You’d be out of income, protection, and a genuine friend who (sometimes) had your best interest in mind.

So you bit your tongue, pretending like his words weren’t making you dizzy, that you wanted nothing more than to feel his body beneath you, to be able to feel his lips against yours. So many late-night fantasies that left you even more lonely in the morning, your knuckles bruised from where you had to bite them to keep quiet. Even though it hurt, you kept your desires close to your heart, treasuring the small things he did give you. Which, you’d come to realize, made it worse, but he had made you addicted to it. 

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t even detect someone approaching. You expected to see the familiar face of The Ghoul beside you, but you were startled to find someone else. He was a ghoul, and even though it was hard to tell you could see that he was younger, late twenties, or early thirties if you had to guess. He wore a simple blue shirt and some jeans, way too neat and hole-less than what you were used to. 

He had a beer in hand, and he used it to gesture to the spot beside you. “This spot taken?” He was the usual rasp of a ghoul, albeit a bit higher pitched than The Ghoul’s. God, you couldn’t stop yourself from comparing him to the other man. 

Speaking of him, you were able to subtly glance behind him to the bar, and you found the other man in conversation with some others. It didn’t look to be a confrontation, luckily, and you heard laughter from the group. You focused your attention on the stranger in front of you, smiling warmly at him. “Not at all,” you patted the space beside you, only barely warm still. 

As he sat beside you, setting his drink on the table, you let yourself take him in. He wasn’t unattractive, far from it. There was almost a playfulness to his features, his fully black eyes glimmering with mirth. His arm went around the couch, and you could feel the heat from it. Even though he wasn’t the man that had plagued your thoughts, you couldn’t help the way your body reacted to the stranger, breathing growing short, your cheeks darkening slightly. You were only human after all. 

“Can’t say I’ve seen you around here before, gorgeous.” He flashed his teeth, and you were pleasantly surprised to find pretty much all of them intact, and still in good condition. Another rarity of the Wastleland. 

“I’m just passing through. Just finished up some… work.” You turned yourself to face him more.

“Work, you say? Whattya do?”

“Oh, just some odd jobs here and there. Whatever makes me money.”

He chucked at that. “Can’t blame you for that. I’m Daniel, by the way.” He held a hand out for you, ungloved and bare. You shook it, giving him your name, and he repeated it back to you. It wasn’t the drawl of The Ghoul’s voice, but it was pleasant enough. 

You expect him to drop your hand, but something about them must’ve intrigued him, and you watched, quite confused, as he filled it over. His eyes ran over your fingers, especially your forefinger and thumb, before flicking back up to yours. He still didn’t drop your hand. “You use a gun a lot?” He smirked when you nodded, bewildered. “I can tell by the callouses here,” he dragged a finger along them, tickling you slightly. 

“Well, look at you,” you laughed. “What’re you, a detective?”

“Nah, nothin’ like that. Just… observant.” He flashed you another smile, completely confident in his actions. “So, you’re a bounty hunter then?”

You didn’t bother to deny his claim, knowing the expression on your face just gave you away. Thank goodness you weren’t a con artist. “Is it gonna be a problem if I say yes?” You asked cautiously, slowly retracting your hand, ready for this interaction to go bad. You let your eyes flick to The Ghoul, locating him in case you need help. He was still at the bar, talking with someone new this time, and you felt a pang of something as the man he was talking to brushed his shoulder, nothing innocent in the touch. 

“Not a problem at all,” he answered completely honestly. “Nasty business, though.”

You glanced back at Daniel, relief flooding you. You did not have the energy for a barfight tonight. “You don’t know the half of it,” you groaned. “It’s ruthless, but I enjoy it, weirdly enough. And I’m pretty good at it.”

The hand resting on the back of the couch shifted, and you felt his fingers brush over your shoulders, making you shiver slightly. I like a girl that can handle herself,” he admitted. “Strong,”  he gently squeezed the muscles in your biceps. “Confident. Powerful.” His voice turned into a whisper at the end, mouth pressed close to your ear. 

You were quite flustered now. “Well, you’re in luck then.”

“It seems I am. So, what say you, bounty hunter? Do you wanna get out of here in a bit, have some fun tonight before you head off?”

It had been a long time since you’d had someone in your bed. Since about when you started working with The Ghoul, to be exact. You’re not sure why you hadn’t in so long; it wasn’t for a lack of options. You just… couldn’t bring yourself to take someone to bed that wasn’t The Ghoul. Still, you hated waking up alone each morning, loneliness clawing at your heart. And when you’d see men and women stumble from his room, it felt like someone shot you, making you irritable with him for days to come. Maybe for once you’d have someone leaving your room, your heart content, if for a moment. Maybe you could imagine that it wasn’t Daniel, picture the other man’s features instead.

Maybe he would feel the same way you felt as he watched Daniel sneak from your room. That idea made you grin, and any hesitance about taking him to bed vanished. 

You didn’t get a chance to respond, though, before two familiar gloved hands rested on Daniel’s shoulders, making the man tense. He was forcibly pulled back from you, the force of the pull nearly making him fall off the couch. He caught himself, and you watched as he stood and faced The Ghoul. 

The shade from his hat hid most of his face, but even then you could see the hatred in his eyes as he stared down Daniel. The Ghoul was a formidable opponent, but you have to give some credit to Daniel as he squared up against him. “The hell’s your problem, man?” If the way The Ghoul had yanked Daniel hadn’t gotten the attention of the crowd, Daniel’s words surely did. Behind them, you watched a small crowd begin to form, and you wished to just let the shadows consume you. 

“She’s… off-limits,” he titled his head to the side. The action would make any sane person falter, and you watched as Daniel’s posture went rigid, fear hitting him. 

Still, Daniel didn’t let up, male pride and all that. “Maybe you should let her know, then,” he gestured angrily to you, and you shrank lower into the seat. “By the way she was lettin’ me talk to her, I can imagine the whole town’s probably had their way-”

His words, which had been so sweet moments ago, were cut off when The Ghoul grabbed him by the throat, slamming him onto the table in front of you. You jumped off the couch as splinters of wood and glass sprayed everywhere, narrowly avoiding you. Mortified, you could do nothing but watch as The Ghoul began to beat the man, blood joining in with the debris. If Daniel had a nose left, you were sure it would be pulverized. 

The Ghoul’s lips had curled up into a snarl, his eyes blazing as he leered down at the man, stopping his assault. Daniel tried to pry the other man’s hand from his throat, a choked gasp leaving him, yet that seemed to just make his grip tighter. “Gimme one reason why I shouldn’t just kill ya?” He growled, shoving Daniel’s head into the ground. He could barely garble out a reply, the words indistinguishable. 

Glass shattered on the floor as The Ghoul tossed the man into another table, another piece of furniture destroyed. As he stalked towards the downed man, he rolled over onto his hands and knees, rubbing at his throat. He was coughing and sputtering, genuine fear in his eyes as he looked up at the bounty hunter. Crouching before him, The Ghoul regarded him slowly, nothing but disgust on his features. 

“Fuck… she all yours,” Daniel managed to pant out between coughs. “Just… God, don’t kill me!”

Satisfied with his answer, The Ghoul kicked him one last time for good measure, sending him sprawling back. It was dead silent in the bar, and patrons gawked and shuffled away as The Ghoul walked to where you had been standing, only to find you gone. 

You had slipped out when he had thrown him, unable to continue watching. The streets were busy, and you kept your head down as you wove between people, heading to the hotel as quickly as you could. Too many emotions overwhelmed you, and you took a deep breath and began to collect your thoughts. 

First, you were embarrassed. 

You were embarrassed that they had been fighting over you. When you weren’t on a job, you hated creating conflict, not wanting to be the center of attention. You had plenty of that doing bounty hunting. This was supposed to be a night where you relaxed, to forget all about the horrors of the world you lived in, with or without The Ghoul, but that plan was tossed aside. 

Secondly, you were angry. 

Fuming would be a better word for it, and if you looked hard enough you could probably see the steam pouring from your ears. You were pissed that he had ruined a possibly enjoyable night with another person, ending your celibate streak. You were pissed that he felt like he could just take control of your choices like that. And you were pissed that you never got that next drink, although that was the least of your concerns at this point. 

Finally, you were confused.

Why had he reacted the way he did? It wasn’t like there was anything between you two, as much as it pained you to come to terms with it. Why did he care who you took to bed? He had taken plenty of people to bed during the time you’d worked together, and you’d never made a complaint about it. Why were you weirdly attracted to his display of… jealousy? Was it jealousy? You couldn’t even imagine what that could mean if it was. 

The sound of your name being shouted behind you forcefully tore you from your thoughts. You immediately recognized it, and you refrained from looking over at him. Ducking your head, you hoped that you blended in well with the others on the street, and you continued to briskly walk towards the hotel. 

You heard your name being called again, this time closer, and so you picked up the pace, nearly jogging at this point. You heard the sound of people crying out in alarm, and you knew that he was getting closer to you, barreling through the crowds without any thought. 

You could see the neon sign of the hotel, now lit, and you breathed out a sigh of relief. That feeling was short-lived, panic making your stomach drop when you heard The Ghoul right behind you. “Don’t make me fuckin’ tackle ya,” you heard him threaten. For a moment, you debated just ignoring him, but you knew that he didn’t make empty threats. Besides, the ground was dusty, and you’d rather not spend the rest of the night covered in sand.

Groaning, you finally halted, turning to face him with a scowl. You didn’t respond, just raising a brow and gesturing for him to ‘get on with it’. Your jaw was clenched so hard, and you could feel the headache that threatened to torment you later because of it. 

“The fuck was that about?” 

God, was he joking with you? “I should be the one asking you that! In what world was that a rational response?”

People stared as they passed, but you both just ignored them. “He was touchin’ ya.”

“And did I look even remotely disinterested? Was there any part of my body language that read that I was even the tiniest bit uncomfortable?” You laughed bitterly at the lack of response from him; you both knew what the answer was. “Why the hell do you even care if he was touching me or not?”

He was silent again, and you just scoffed, taking a few steps back. “Whatever,” you sighed in defeat, before turning and walking the remaining way to the hotel. You were almost disappointed when you didn’t hear him following behind you. 

The person behind the desk recognized you, and you were able to quickly make your way up to the second floor where your room was. You made sure to not let your eyes wander to the door where he was staying that night, a few feet down from yours on the other side of the hallway. 

When you were finally alone in your room, you resisted the urge to just scream angrily. Instead, you kicked off your shoes, which hit the walls with a loud noise, and you flopped onto your bed. Laying on your back with your arms spread, you stared at the surprisingly intact ceiling, frustrated tears stinging your eyes. Disagreements always upset you, but there was something about this one that made you feel ill, a sense of dread that you’d never felt before filled your body. 

You’re not sure how long you just lay there, calming your racing heart and your heightened emotions. It must’ve been a while, because you dozed off, the exhaustion in your body now taking control.

A light knock at the door woke you, and for a second you thought you had just imagined it. When it came again, more forceful, you sighed, knowing exactly who was on the other side of the door. Like before, you debated just ignoring him, but you didn’t want to be charged for the destruction of more property. “What?” You snapped out, still not in the mood to talk to him yet. 

“We need to talk.” The Ghoul responded, sounding less irritated than you. 

“Yeah, no shit.” I gave you plenty of time to explain yourself downstairs. 

You could hear him sigh through the thin wood door. “Sweetheart.” You hated that he knew how to get you to do whatever you wanted. You couldn’t even stop yourself as you sat up and made your way to the door. With no hesitation you opened it, his endearment almost putting you under a spell.

It was dissipated when you saw him, those emotions flooding your mind instead. The door was only open a crack, your body filling it as you glared at the other man. “Yes?

“Let me talk to ya,” he sighed in frustration. 

“You are.” You couldn’t care less that you were being stubborn and difficult. He deserved it.

His jaw clenched. “Inside.”

You didn’t respond, mulling over his words as you stared at him, fire never once leaving your eyes. Finally, you relented, against your better judgment. Stepping back, you left the door open, leaning up against one of the dressers with your arms crossed. You watched as he entered, the door clicking shut in finality, looking like he expected to be attacked by you at any second. You were almost proud to instill that level of fear in him.

He kept a respectful distance away from you, loitering near the foot of the bed. “Look, I’m… sorry.” He said the words like they were brand new. 

He left it at that, and you scoffed. You knew that you should just accept his apology and move on. You knew that you shouldn’t instigate something, to purposely start an argument with your traveling partner. But you were still too damn angry to care. You needed him to know what you felt.

“‘Sorry’? I get nothing more than that?”

“What’dya want from me then, sweetheart?” He growled, your anger rubbing off on him. “You want me to get down on my fuckin’ knees, plead for your forgiveness? You want me to promise I ain’t ever gonna do it again, even though it’ll be a damn lie? What the fuck do you want from me?” He spat the last sentence out, emphasizing each word.

The image of him on his knees before you flashed in your mind, and you had to admit it did seem appealing. But not now. 

He was getting closer to you now. Slow, methodical steps, but he was closer, and continuing. “I want an explanation.”

You might’ve as well just slapped him, the way he halted in his tracks, stunned. Words seemed to evade him, and the anger that had just been rolling off him in waves subsided, still there yet not as strong. It should’ve had the opposite effect, but your rage was growing, threatening to burst. “Oh, so now you can’t talk? It’s a simple request!”

“It’s really fuckin’ not.”

“Why?” Silence. “You’ve got two options here. You either suck it up and tell me, or you get the hell out of here. It’s your choice.”

You could tell that he hated the choice you gave him, but you didn’t care. You expected to watch him turn and storm out the door, leaving your relationship in tatters on the dirty hotel floor. So you were surprised when he took a deep breath and remained where he was. “I hated that he was touchin’ you."

“So you were jealous?” You ignored the way you were elated when he nodded, albeit with some hesitancy. The anger subsided, and you felt pure want take its place. “You wanted to be him,” you whispered, taking a step towards him. Your confidence grew at how hungrily he watched you. 

“You wanted to be the one whispering those words, to be running their fingers on my body.” Another step. “You wanted to be the one to take me to bed, to feel me, to fuck me.” You were finally close enough to him that you could touch him if you wish, but you kept your hands by your sides.

The Ghoul groaned at your words, and you couldn’t help the small smirk on your face at his reaction. “Do you want that?” You asked, needed to hear confirmation. 

It came almost immediately. “Fuck, yes.” His own hands reached out to touch you, but you swatted them away. That snapped him out of his semi-trance, his eyes flashing with confusion.

“You don’t get to touch me yet.”

 Something new flashed in his eyes instead, something you couldn’t quite name. “Sweetheart-”

“Sit down.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but you just shot him a look, silencing him instantly. The bed groaned as he sat on the edge of it, eyes never leaving yours. It made him stand a head lower than you now, and he had to look up to continue holding your gaze. “How does it feel? To watch someone else get the things you want?”

You didn’t give him a chance to respond. “It hurts, doesn’t it? It feels like someone’s stabbed you in the heart, no? So,” you moved between his legs, “how do you think I felt? After you flirt with me, then take someone else to bed. After you touch me, toy with me, but then act like my body disgusts you, and you recoil away. After you say those things that leave me shaking and wanting, but then never act of them.” 

Your hands grabbed the lapels of his jacket, and you brought your face close to his. “I’ve seen you take countless lovers to bed during the time we’ve worked together, and I never said a peep. Even though it fucking killed me to see. That man in the bar, the one you beat senseless? That was gonna be the first person that’d occupied my bed in almost a year. And no, I didn’t really want him that badly, but maybe I could finally go to bed for one night and not have my thoughts be entirely of you.”

Shoving his back lightly, you stumbled back a few steps, the confession that had just spilled from your lips making you breathless. “I have to know; did you mean it? All the flirting, the touches, everything. Did you mean it?”

For once, The Ghoul kept any remarks to himself, and sheer honesty was written across his face. There before you, you saw a vulnerable man, gazing up at you like you hung the stars. “I did. I do.”

“Do you want me?” Cautiously, you began to move back towards him.

“Every fuckin’ minute.”

When you were back between his legs, you let your hands rest on the lapels, no longer strangling the poor material. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

A hopeful smile graced his lips, his eyes flicking down to your lips which hovered above him. After nodding lightly, you let yourself move closer until your lips just brushed over his, barely making contact. “A shame, then.” You pulled away before they could fully connect, a victorious smile on your face as you looked down at the confused man.

“Oh, you thought you’d be getting what you wanted tonight? You ran your hands up, resting on the sides of his neck now. You could feel his heart hammering. “I hate to break it to you, but you’re not. No, tonight you’re gonna feel as desperate as I’ve felt for the past year. And,” you made sure that he was especially paying attention to your words now, “if you think that at any point tonight you’re gonna have control, you’re wrong. Any objections?”

His eyes had blown out during your little speech, small pants leaving his lips as he stared up at you. He was already so eager, and you’d barely done anything yet. Even still, you saw a flicker of uncertainty, and you realized he’d probably never given up control in the bedroom. You let the facade drop for a moment. “I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with. Not ever. You just gotta let me know, and we’ll stop immediately.”

Any uncertainty left him, and something warmed in your chest at the fact that he trusted you enough to do something like this. “You ready?”

He nodded, and you shook your head. “I need to hear you say it, baby.”

You watched his throat bob as he swallowed, not expecting the name from you. “I’m ready.”

“Good.” You rewarded him with a soft kiss on the cheek before grabbing his hat off his head. “Go get comfortable on the bed.” 

Stepping away from him, you set his hat on the nightstand as he got situated, his now bare head resting on the pillows. Making sure he had returned his attention to you, you heard his gasp when you grabbed the hem of your shirt, turning into an appreciative groan when you tore it off your head. You wore a simple black bra beneath, but you might as well have been wearing the most beautiful piece of lingerie with the way his eyes widened, a smile on his face again. You made quick work of your jeans, and you refrained from shivering as the air hit your now-exposed skin, clad in only your undergarments. But how could you be cold when he was looking at you with such heat in his eyes?

The bed creaked again when you got on it, and you adjusted until you straddled his abdomen. His clothing dug into your skin, but you could hardly feel it. Planting your hands on his chest, you leaned forward until your face was only an inch from his. He watched you with hooded eyes, which fluttered close when your lips pressed against his jaw, moving up until you stopped right below his ear. 

Gloved hands rested on your bare waist, and as much as you enjoyed feeling his hands on your body, you couldn’t let up that easily. “Did I say you could touch me yet?” You whispered, and you felt him slowly rescind his touch, now resting on the bedsheets beside him. “Good job,” you praised, and you felt him shudder slightly. Interesting. “If you behave, I might just let you touch me,” you offered, like dangling a piece of food in front of a starving animal. 

“Yeah?” 

You just smiled against his skin. 

Continuing your exploration, you moved inward, barely feeling the ridges of the indents of his skin. Moving up his cheek, to across where his nose would be, then to the other cheek, you littered his face with kisses, purposely avoiding his lips. His eyes continued to flutter open and close, and at this proximity, you were able to see short, brown eyelashes. How… peculiar. And cute. 

You didn’t make any comment on them, choosing to move back down again. But you went past his jaw this time, down to his neck, and you felt his head roll back to allow you more room. You felt him jump when you sunk your teeth into the skin before moaning beautifully, and you ran over the hurt with your tongue. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched as his hands instinctively went up to touch you, then resting back down on the bed, grabbing at the bedsheets instead. 

There wasn’t much exposed skin left when you reached where his neck and shoulders met, his shirt now covering it. Leaning back, you gestured for him to sit up, helping ease the jacket off his shoulders when he did. He pulled his arms out, and it pooled around his waist, still sitting on most of it. You didn’t care, as long as you could get his get his shirt off.

You hesitated a second before beginning to fiddle with the buttons, glancing up into his eyes. “Alright?” 

“You don’t gotta keep askin’, sweetheart,” he responded breathlessly. “I’ll let you know if I don’t want somethin’.”

You grinned at him, before quickly getting to work and taking off his button-up shirt. With every inch of his body that was revealed to you, you felt your heart accelerate, excitement bubbling in you. He had just gotten his arms out of the garment and had tossed it to the floor before you were forcing him back down on the bed with hands on his chest, loving how easily he complied. 

You let your fingers drag down the front of his chest, nails scratching lightly. Even with the thick scarring covering his body, he was still able to feel it, and he shivered. Your breath caught when you finally looked for yourself, instead of letting your touch see for you. To say he was gorgeous would be an understatement. All lean muscle, you could feel them flex and jump when you touched him, and for a moment you remembered how strong this man was. And here he was, submitting to your every request. You really did try to not let it go to your head. 

“You’re so beautiful, Cooper.” You hadn’t even realized you’d let his real name slip until he went deathly still beneath you. Glancing up at him, you couldn’t read the expression on his face, and you thought you went too far. Still, he had yet to say anything, and so you kept your mouth shut. You trusted that he would stop you.

Continuing to touch him, you barely heard the soft plea that he uttered. “Say it again.” 

The expression clicked now, and you smiled gently at him. You felt truly happy, knowing there was another thing he trusted you with. “Cooper,” you sighed, and you were startled when you felt his hands grasp at you, desperately trying to pull you towards him. You braced on his chest, stopping him, and you glanced at where his hands now rested until he tore them away. You made a disapproving noise as you leaned back down, teasing him by brushing your lips against his. But with the way you were sitting and the way you pressed down on his chest, he couldn’t meet you, and you heard him make a frustrated noise.

“Do I gotta tie your hands up, Cooper?” You semi-joked, gauging his reaction. When his eyes somehow darkened even more, you knew he was down. 

You both knew that he could easily “break free” from the restraints you’d placed on him; he had ghoul strength, and you were just a human. But he continued to play into your game, and you were grateful for it. You were having too much fun. 

“If ya keep sayin’ my name like that, then ya might have to.” 

“Oh, you’re too good to me, baby,” you praised, hands retracting so you could reach behind you. You smirked at his reaction when you tugged at his belt, being sure to purposely graze over the evident strain in his pants. You gave him the most innocent look you could when he glared at you, returning your touch to his belt. It took a bit of maneuvering, and with some help from him raising his hips, you were able to free it.

The headboard was made from metal bars, so you were easily able to secure his wrists to it. The restraint wasn’t tight, tight enough to keep him in place, but if he severely needed to leave then he could easily escape. When you sat back, you admired the sight before you. Your wildest dreams were playing out right in front of you, and you couldn’t be more excited.t

Starting at the base of his throat, you began to move down his body, pressing your lips against the skin as you descended. When you reached his nipples, you let your tongue flick over it, eliciting a whine from him. Your fingers toyed with the other one, making him squirm. You couldn’t deny that the noises he was making were making you dizzy, a familiar tension building in you. But you kept an amused and unaffected expression on your face, not wanting to break yet. 

You didn’t stay there for long, continuing your descent downwards. You scratched lightly over his abs when you reached them, and you figured goosebumps would be covering his body by now.

 “I could just leave you like this, you know,” you commented as you moved backward. “Hands bound, aching, wanting.” Your hands trailed down his thighs. 

“You wouldn’t,” he groaned, and you just flashed a smile at him.

“Oh, but I could.” You now rested just below his thighs, your own straddling them. “I could just sit here and make you watch as I touch myself, make myself cum, screaming your name.” You heard the belt rattle against the bedframe when you let one of your hands trail down your stomach, a gasp leaving you when you reached the band of your underwear. “Then leave you alone with just your thoughts, imagining all the things you could’ve done to me. Just how I spent every night this past year. Revenge is a bitch, isn’t it?”

“Sweetheart, please.” You don’t think you’ve ever heard something so wonderful, arousal spiking in your body. His eyes bore into you as you reached behind you, unclasping your bra. You let it slide off your body before setting it gently on the floor. Squeezing your breasts in your hands, you let your head roll back, his name tumbling from you. You debated moaning the other man’s name, the one in the bar, but you couldn’t remember it. Besides, you were torturing the man enough, and you assumed that he would tear through his bindings if you did. 

Eventually, you took pity on him, and your desire was starting to get in the way of your need to draw this out. He jumped when you rested your hands on his thighs, expecting you to do what you said, and you could feel the relief it brought him.

It didn’t take long for you to unbutton his pants, even less to unzip them. You tugged both them and his boxers down enough to free him. He was already rock hard, almost painfully so, and a strangled groan left him. The noise shot straight to your core, and you sighed in appreciation at him. He was long, not overwhelmingly so, but you knew you’d be feeling him for days to come. 

Keeping your eyes on him, you leaned forward and lapped at the tip, licking the bead of moisture there. You watched as he tried to move to touch you, and you grinned at him when the restraint stopped him. You could see the plea in his eyes, and you just shook your head at him. Not yet. 

Another run of your tongue made him curse, and you cooed at him. “Want me to take care of this, baby?”

“Please,” he gasped out.

“Well, when you ask that nicely.”

He didn’t get a chance to prepare before you were running your tongue along his entire length, base to tip, before taking as much of him as you could in your mouth. You took what you couldn’t fit in your hand, moving in tandem with your mouth as you sucked him. It was nearly unintelligible, but you heard your name being moaned by him. 

Bobbing your head up and down, you were unrelenting in the pleasure you were giving him, and you could feel his hips begin to buck and twist, and you moved your mouth off him before he could hit the back of your throat. 

Glancing up at him, he looked absolutely wrecked, and the fact made you smile cruelly. You could tell that he was close, by the way he pulsed and throbbed in your hand as you continued to stroke him. Your name was just streaming from him freely, straining and pressing against the belt. The bedpost made an awful noise, but it was covered by his noises. “You close, Cooper?”

His head had been thrown back against the pillows as pleasure coursed through him, but you watched as he flicked his gaze down to you. “Fuck, sweetheart, yes.” You hadn’t meant to, but you let it slip through in your expression what you were planning, and dread washed over his face. He groaned you name, almost in warning, but you ignored him. 

To his very evident displeasure, you let go of him, his incoming release ebbing away as you sat up. A string of curses left him, and a drop of sweat rolled down his face. His eyes were blazing with lust and anger, but they melted a bit when regarding you. At least the anger did. The lust seemed to just flare up, especially when he as you stood to slip off your underwear. “You only get to cum when I do, got it?”

He was able to see the evidence of your arousal on them as you discarded them, and even in the position he was in a cocky smile grew on his face. “Perfectly.” That cocky smile was wiped off when he saw you reach for his hat, putting it on your head as you climbed back onto the bed. As you straddled his lap, realization flashed on his features. “Are you tryin’ to fuckin’ kill me?” He wheezed, a mix of laughter and a groan. 

“I’m surprised I haven’t already,” you teased back, your hands bracing on his chest. Just like you thought, his heart pounded against your fingertips. Rocking your hips slowly, you began to rut against him, coating him in your arousal. 

You heard the tell-tale clink of his belt rattling against the bedframe. “Can I touch ya now, sweetheart?” He gasped out.

You seriously considered it for a moment, but you decided against it. “When you make me cum, you can. But if you finish before me…” You let the words trail off, the threat evident enough.

He looked like he wanted to argue, but he held his tongue, knowing that it would get him further away from what he wanted. You grinned at his compliance, rewarding him by getting on your knees and lining him up with your entrance. Sinking onto him, a gasp tore from you as he pressed into you. It had been so long since you’d been stretched like this, and it felt even better than you remembered. Or maybe it was because it was with him. 

His grip was vice-like against the metal bars as you slowly sank down on his cock, almost painful-sounding grunts and moans leaving him. It was a slow process, but eventually, you felt your hips go flush with his. “Oh, Cooper, baby,” you groaned, and you felt him twitch inside of you.

“You… you can’t say shit like that and then expect me to last,” he whined, and you laughed gently. 

“You need a moment?” You refrained from adding ‘baby’ to the end, knowing he was about to snap. 

A shaky exhale left him. “Just… just a moment.”

You hummed in response, letting yourself sit there for a moment. It felt like torture, wanting nothing more than to ride him, but you held back. You tried to not move too much, either, and you eventually felt his breathing calm some. It was still sporadic, but not as much as before. 

“Go ‘head now.” You didn’t have to be told twice. 

Starting with a slow roll of your hips, you began to move up and down. One hand was planted on his chest, the other on his hat to keep in on your head as it rolled back. It only took a few moments for you to fall into a rhythm, the slow movements gradually building to something faster. 

“Cooper, fuck, you feel so good,” you moaned, and you heard him make some noise in agreeance. Another roll of your hips made you see stars, and you could feel that familiar tension begin to build, slowly but surely. 

“What a sight you are,” he murmured between breaths, and you looked down to see him staring at you, almost mesmerized. “Wearin’ my hat while ya fuck yourself on my cock. Fuck, a man could die happy like this.”

You tried to grin down at him, but the pleasure became too much as you continued to rock, and you felt yourself falter. Instead, you just moaned out fragments of his name. He was all you could feel, pressing into spots that made you cry out, hitting them with each roll. “Baby.”

God, you loved the way he reacted whenever you uttered that name. His hips jumped, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. The hand planted on his chest dug into the toughened skin, nails no doubt leaving indents, but he didn’t seem to mind. Even though your legs were beginning to shake, you didn’t let up, moving up and down, your breathing becoming labored. You could feel yourself getting closer; you just needed a little more.

After angling your body to keep it steady, you let go of his hat, moving your hands to between your legs. It made you groan, feeling the way his cock moved in and out of you as you began to rub at your clit. The extra stimulation made you cry his name out loudly, and you knew there would be complaints from the other patrons of the hotel.

Your walls tightened around him, making him bite down harshly on his bottom lip to keep from cumming right there. His eyes flicked downward, his mouth going slack as he watched you touch yourself. He forced himself to look away, blown-out eyes staring into yours. You could see the tendons in his neck strain as he concentrated on controlling his release. 

The extra pleasure was what you needed, and you could feel your impending release inch closer. “You close, sweetheart?” His voice was hoarse, and you nodded furiously. “You gonna cum on my cock? Fuck, yeah you are.”

“Cooper, you can…” Your words were cut off with a whine. 

He seemed to get what you were saying, and he groaned in relief. “Can I finish in ya, sweetheart? Fill up that perfect cunt?”

“Please.” For the first time during the night, you pleaded for something. You were on the verge of release, your movements growing frantic as you chased your release.

“C’mon, sweetheart, lemme feel ya.” 

As you cried out his name again, you came, your body going slack as pleasure made you boneless. It wasn’t your first orgasm in a year, far from it, but it felt so much better when it came from another person. Your nerves hummed and you felt weightless, soft whines and pants leaving you. 

You barely managed to catch yourself before you fell on top of him, and the clench of you around him was all he needed for his own release, having staved it off for a long time now. He was even louder than you were, your name coming out like a sharp bark as he came, and you could feel his release seep into you, coating you. 

The room felt awfully quiet now, even though it was filled with the sound of both of you catching your breaths. With unstable legs, you lifted yourself up and off of him, and you watched as his spend dripped out of you and onto his abdomen. Groans both left you at this sight. 

You had been so caught up in the sight that it nearly startled you when you heard the clinking noise again. Glancing up at him, he gave you an expectant look, an almost teasing smirk on his face as he rattled the belt again. “You gonna release me? I’ve been good.” You scoffed at the way he pouted at you.

“You have been,” you agreed. “My good boy,” you added as you reached for the belt. His eyes widened, sucking in a gasp, and if could, he would be blushing. 

You just smirked down at him as you released him, but that victory was short-lived when you felt his hands immediately shoot to your body. He practically yanked you down to his mouth, desperately claiming your lips in a messy kiss. His hands roamed over every part of your body, the rough skin making you whine in pleasure, and you could feel his responding smile. 

As much as you were loving his attention, you had to admit you were incredibly exhausted, especially now. A yawn tore through you, interrupting the kiss, and you pulled back. “Am I borin’ you, sweetheart?” He asked, amused.

“You could never. But I don’t think I can do all that again,” you laughed breathlessly. 

“There’s always tomorrow,” he smirked. “And the next day. And the next.”

You slapped lightly at his chest, chuckling. “Eager, are we?”

“Desperately,” he growled lightly before pulling you back to his lips. This kiss was gentler, although no less passionate. He laughed boisterously when you pulled away to yawn again, fingers halting their exploration. 

When you tried to pull away, though, he didn’t let go, keeping your body close. “Baby, I need to get us cleaned up,” you laughed, trying and failing to escape his hold. “I’m not going to bed covered in…” You trailed off, too embarrassed to finish the sentence. You tried to wiggle free, and you sighed in defeat when he didn’t let go. 

“You’re blushin’,” he teased, making your ears burn more. “You were spewin’ those filthy things earlier without a second thought, but now you’re actin’ all shy?”

“I hate you,” you grumbled.

“Sure ya do, sweetheart,” he chuckled. “How ‘bout this? You finish what you were ‘bout to say, and I’ll let ya go. For a minute or two, that is.”

You sighed again. “I was saying that I’m not going to bed covered in your cum,” you said with major hesitancy, your ears on fire. 

“Why not?”

You slapped his chest again. “I did what you asked. Let me go, Cooper.”

He debated it for a moment. “Fine,” you felt his hand let up its hold, “but if you ain’t back in a minute, I’m draggin’ ya back to the bed.”

Now on a timer, you quickly got off his lap, not before pressing one last kiss to his cheek. On shaky legs, you made your way to the bathroom, flipping him off when he laughed at your inability to walk in a straight line. After using the bathroom, you used one of the provided washrags, dampening it before running it between your legs, and cleaning you up. Grabbing a new one, you dampened it as well before heading back to the bathroom.

He was now sitting on the edge of the bed, the rest of his clothing discarded on the floor, and he looked up when he saw you enter. “Thought I was ‘bout to drag you back,” he commented as you approached him, grinning when he saw your unabashed staring. “Like what ya see?”

You wiped that proud expression off when the cold washcloth made contact with his skin, and you quickly wiped him down. He hissed when it ran over his cock, and you muttered a small apology. You tried to move back to the bathroom to discard the cloth, but you felt him wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you back towards him. You felt him kiss the back of your neck, and you felt him yank the cloth from your hand, tossing it vaguely in the direction of the bathroom. 

He pulled you back onto the bed, adjusting the covers so that they covered you both, the one arm never leaving your waist, his face burrowed into your neck. Out of all the things you expected him to be, a cuddler was not one of them. But you certainly weren’t complaining.

Because of the heat of him behind you, and the exertion of the day's activities, you felt exhaustion take over you again, and your eyes fluttered close. “You still owe me anther drink,” you heard yourself mutter. 

The rumble of his chest from his laughter was the last thing you remembered before you fell asleep. 

Author’s Note: i stole the hat thing from one of my other fics, but i love it so much that i needed to use it again. also might write a continuation/pt.2 to this, idk yet.

also thank you @kinatanhi yet again for the comment that helped inspire all this <3

[away-ward]

I don't know if you've answered this query before, but I'd love to hear your opinion on one of the most controversial devil's night's characters... Damon Torrance.

He's a very divisive character in the fandom and for good reason. Yet, Damon arguably has the highest importance in the series due to how he is both an instigator of many key events, and he is also the character connecting a lot of relationships links and plot threads together.

In particular, I think Damon's relationships with both Will and Banks are fascinating to think about. Two people that he did dirty in the series (Will in Corrupt, Banks all through hideaway), yet he also claimed to love both to the point of insanity. It's an interesting paradox, yet for Damon character, it does make perfect sense that love and suffering are entwined for a good while.

Heyy! Adri, how are you? hope you're good.

I have talked some about Damon, certainly received and responded to plenty of rants about him, but don’t remember if I’ve ever had a question specifically about him like this.

If you are ever curious, I am usually pretty good with my tags, so you could search ‘#damon torrance’ but that might not bring up everything. And it's probably not as fun as my #will grayson iii tag, but what can you do? (most of the good stuff is in the tags)

Anyway. I probably don’t understand Damon very well. I’d like to think I do, but the truth his way of thinking is sort of an anomaly to me. Which is probably for the best.

He gets a lot of hype for being so dark and mysterious. But I wasn’t impressed with him? He just seemed to me to be the king of sad and mean, and a lot of his darkness felt like posturing. This isn’t to discredit what he went through, but… I just didn’t get the vibe that "dark" is who he really is. I think he was just hurt, and once that pain had been addressed, he seemed okay? He's not normal by any means, but then none of the these characters are, and I think that's the point.

However, much like everything with DN, I like the concept of Damon more than the execution. He is the driving force behind the serious, and most of the time, the group is either reacting to actions Damon took, or ones he might take. It seems that he’s the foundation of the group, and everything goes through him or is linked by him. On the one hand, I think this is great. I love the idea that these characters are so intrinsically connected. But I hate that Damon seems to be the only character this exists for. I hate that it seems like he’s the glue, without which this group would eventually fall apart. A true found/chosen family feels different. Each character is a piece of the puzzle, which together creates the final image.

I also think his relationships with Will and Banks are the most compelling for his story arc. Likewise, Banks and Will being the two he did the worst to is so interesting, because it’s an insane concept to wrap your head around. He was so focused on “saving” them, that he caused them seemingly irreversible pain and suffering. His claws were dug in so deep; he wasn’t just drawing blood, he was tearing them apart. There was a part of him that would rather see Banks and Will dead than alive and happy without him. He needed them to need him, because without them… there was nothing good left.

And speaking of goodness, in a weird way, he was “saving” them by trying to keep them innocent, away from anything dark and painful, almost to their own detriment. It’s like he wanted to take anything good left in him and pour it into them, to keep it safe.

What I wished for Damon, if he had to be in this role (and as we’ve spoken about before), was that he was a true guardian of the group. Always watching, always suspecting, always ready. I’ve also written about his relationship with Emory, and how I think those two should be the ones who know when things just need to get done and do it. No debating, no questioning about the method or the “right time.” Just quietly handle whatever problem comes up. I really do see him as somewhat of an enforcer. I remember in Corrupt, when Michael was talking about Damon’s playing style:

“He rarely thought about anything he did, and if someone put a wall in his way – justified or not – he came in swinging without hesitation or regret. This had been a useful quality on our high school basketball team. His reputation spread, and just the sight of him by the opposite team had them pissing themselves.”

This version of Damon is my favorite Damon. I understand he had to grow up. He needed to start thinking seriously about things. But a Damon that had this sort of backbone that also planned his moves? That’s dangerous. He just didn’t seem to have any of this drive or seriousness in Nightfall, which was a bit of a let-down.

I also have a post discussing the Damon and Christiane issue (which basically says Rika’s right, but she needs to mind her own business anyway). I used to think Damon was just being stubborn because PD needed him to be so he and Rika can fight, but after thinking about it, he has every right not to want his children around Christiane.

Overall, I think what this serious is desperately missing is an understanding of out each character interacts and relates to each other character. We have the most understanding with Damon. And yet, after Corrupt and then Damon’s redemption, I’m still unclear how he and Michael interact. Michael’s the leader, but is Damon really a follower? Is he happy to let Michael lead now that he’s gotten everything he wanted, or is it like “I let him lead because I can’t be bothered.” I don’t know. Strangely, I think we would understand Damon better if we also had better insight to the other characters.

Let's see, some more fun facts...

I've previously stated that instead of weird group sex to be the "initiation" into their "gang", everyone should get the chance to stab Damon and if they can do it, they're in. I stand by that.

When I hear NF, I think of Damon most of the time. Occasionally, it's Will.

I headcanon that weddings are weird in Thunder Bay because when their old schoolmates invite the town locals to their wedding, local business owner Damon Torrance shows up with his (2) two previously unknown sisters, conveniently married to his best friends, and his (1) one and only business partner that's married to his other best friend. That first year, nobody focused on the brides and it ruined everything.

I also headcanon that Damon wasn't supposed to be in the literature class with Will and Emory in NF. He was supposed to be in whatever class he had with the lit teacher from the beginning of KS, but he wanted to be with his friends and none of the staff had the energy to stop him.

I think Damon being good with kids actually fits his character really well, and I like that it was included (dude, he threw out his entire build and started over when he learned the kid like pirates just because. This is a man who cherishes children, no matter how gruff he is about it.). I wish it had been made clear that this is a unique trait for him, but it seems that the whole group just magically knows how to parent or has kids perfectly suited to their style of parenting.

I would have liked to know that he and Banks develop a healthy, separate relationship as they grow up, but still remain close enough to understand each other without much conversation. They naturally grow apart as their lives turn towards their families, but they can still keep their root systems.

I don't have anymore at the moment. And I hope this answered your questions... I'm not quite sure. But I'm also up to discuss certain points! Thanks for stopping in!

-ko

[librarycards]

hey there cav. this is sort of a fraught question but. how do I engage with psychiatry when I'm antipsych? I need treatment but I have so much distrust and I feel like it's all bullshit. I don't really have a support system and there's few peer support resources in my area. I can't do this myself but I cant trust this system. soooo... tips for finding therapists that don't suck & getting the most of it? really appreciate your blog and posts, thanks

thank you for entrusting this message to me, I appreciate it! I have answered questions like this a few times before (they're buried somewhere, if you can't find them in my "ask" tag, lmk and i'll try to dig them up!). it's definitely fraught inasmuch as we're never (as people who hate psych but need specific, urgent support that communities aren't by default set up to provide) going to get an answer that we 100% want, but also very not-fraught inasmuch as most of us agree that surviving in this sea of partiality is something we can do together, with love and nonjudgement.

so, for context: i was in therapy - first behaviorist OT as a toddler and elementary school child, and, beginning at 7, talk therapy - nonconsensually basically from the time I could remember until adulthood. i likely would never have tried it again, except for the small hiccup of needing letters for Transing Genders. so, this was when i first sought out "trans affirming care," as it were, and i didn't expect much. i went to my college's health center and got a list of possible providers, and ended up getting an excellent PCP, as well as a therapist who was a genuine cis accomplice: she wrote letters for Mad/psych disabled clients whose genders wouldn't typically qualify us for surgery/hormones in the eyes of the M/PsyIC. i did not share with her the things i "ought" to have shared, but she knew I had survived abusive therapy / forced institutionalization, and accepted that, and accepted my cynicism along with it. i was also first genuinely understanding foucault at this time, so rest assured i was quite a little shit (affectionate).

when she left to practice elsewhere, i went to a therapist at the same practice she recommended. she was fine, but not what i needed. by this time, I'd gotten the requisite procedures, so my therapy attendance wasn't required. i basically just ghosted this new therapist around the time covid hit.

when i came to grad school, i initially wasn't looking for therapy, though i had idly considered something for OCD, which I was (and am) managing in part through medication. after getting outright rejected for, essentially, being too crazy for normie OCD therapy, i directed my search specifically for Mad/abolitionist providers. i began by going through some of the archives of places like the National Queer and Trans Therapists of Color Network, and some people who have posted guest articles on Mad in America / The Fireweed Collective -- many are providers seeking to disrupt/abolish the system. That provided some leads, though no openings (there are very few of them, and they are, understandably, in high demand).

I then turned to my community connections: over the years, I've amassed a large number of Mad colleagues in various fields. Many are a half-step from radical/antipsych circles, so I asked them. This time, I asked specifically about a possible therapist who was interested in critiques of "eating disorders" as a category, who had an abolitionist, harm-reductionist, and anti-"health" approach to care, and who, accordingly, refused to cooperate with institutions of psychiatric confinement. I was directed to a list of people, of whom my current and beloved therapist / colleague / comrade was the first to respond.

my trajectory with her has been a steady building of trust through a shared ebbing and flowing of closeness, frustration, enlightenment, and curiosity. it has been close to a year and a half now, and we only began speaking frankly about more "dangerous"/"risky" topics a few months ago. early in our relationship, i did a great deal of boundary-testing, and reacted with anger and shutdown the first time she asked a question that proved risky/activating for me. my biggest recommendation when engaging with ANY provider is to ask them explicitly, repeatedly, and critically about their relationships with your own risk/harm level, their ongoing history wrt patient institutionalization / "referrals" to "higher levels of care". take note about the way they reference past patient situations, as well as their own past experience. take note of how they respond when you choose not to provide the information they seek.

also take note of what info they're willing to provide upfront, including at a consult: what methodologies do they work with, what was their training, how do they feel about said training? what are their politics? ask whoever recommended them to you, too. look at reviews. this is obvious -- what might not be is looking up their work on google scholar. who do they cite? what do they advocate, who do they associate themself with?

i think that it's also a good idea to ask them explicitly about their experience in other/"higher" levels of care - most therapists have done some kind of rotation during their education, often in a hospital, group home, halfway house, similar. if you have ever been institutionalized, you may have even spotted / been abused by some! observe how they discuss these experiences. take note.

if and when you've established this person as someone you want to continue working with, trust notwithstanding, think personally about what you are actually looking for. they will ask you about your goals, surely, but it's a good idea first to think about your own personal goals outside of the verbalized relationship between you two. do you need a confidante, and of what kind? what sort of accountability do you need, and what are you willing to try to figure that out? *what are you paying this person for that you feel others cannot or will not do*? what part of this person's expertise can be of use to you, and for how long?

i think one interesting approach to therapy is to regard the provider as a teacher - they're there to share knowledge with you, and you're free to accept or reject it. they have some kind of training/experience you don't have, and you seek them out because you think it may be of use in your own life, and perhaps even to redistribute that knowledge if and when you gain it. at the same time, you also have knowledge to share with them - not to be extracted, but to be incorporated in their own work and practice. the biggest insight on the practice of good therapy i've gleaned is that, ideally, you're both teaching and learning forever. this is true of all good relationships. there is an exchange of knowledge based on shared trust - values - priorities. once you are in a space where you know that this person shares your general relational orientation (aka, doesn't want to institutionalize, etc. you and people like you) it's possible to begin sharing knowledge in a way that benefits from this imposed structure. the benefit, imo, is that it's okay that you "monopolize" the convo and direct the knowledge-production toward your needs, because that's the service you're paying for!

i guess, to close, i'll return to the classic Mad Pride framing of us as "psych users/consumers." this isn't the perfect term, but i think it's enlightening, as we can and should be able to seek out services that work for us. just like i go to a person who knows wtf they're doing when, say, i need my nails done or my car fixed, so too do i go to an expert interlocutor when i am interested in developing my self-/relational knowledge and/or am seeking support in times of emotional tumult. this doesn't confer them a status as superior to me, just like someone isn't superior to someone else by being a nail tech or mechanic. it simply means that we are entering into a relationship where my needs and their expertise meet. seek a therapist who understands this, and understands themself as someone who can learn from you, too. this approach to therapy, and to care, mean that you can't just throw someone away or lock them up when they say things you don't like. it means that, even in those moments, there is something to be learned, and that the relationship will grow in that process of edification.

[4dself]

Chronicles of a Fandom Luminary: My Journey as a Renowned Fan Fiction Writer. (and an obsessed fan)

Journey into Fandom: I've been in a few fandoms throughout but I believe this was the first fandom that was probably the deepest I'd ever been. And when I say deep I mean deep. I most definitely won't be dropping any specific names but I'm sure you'll be able to pick up along the way some hints here and there about what I'm talking about.

I was on YouTube in 2016 or 2017 and had come across a few videos on YouTube, then couldn't get enough and was watching reactions of other groups reacting to other groups. I'm sure you get it by now. lol.

My memory from this time is a bit foggy about how I got into this fandom exactly but this is how I discovered them.

There were two within the group and I really loved their dynamic with one another; along with the other thousands of people. I loved how they interacted, talked, and were cool with one another. I was obsessed. I watched YouTube compilation videos that others had made of them and it garnered lots of views, I loved everything about their bond and was genuinely obsessed to an insane amount.

I realized I had too much love for them and an overwhelming affection for the two especially one of them. My entire being literally overflowed with love and obsession and I needed an outlet for all this. This is when I came across Wattpad.

Discovering Fanfiction

I had used Wattpad in the past to read normal/regular stories from authors--never actually using the app as an author myself, but mainly as a reader.

I saw that the fandom I was in had specific tags and names for my OTP. I saw that the tags/names would be paired with drawings, vdeos, etc. I then realized I could use those same names/hashtags to search for content on other platforms. So I searched on wp andd I was surprised but filled with happiness and excitement as I saw that my otp had so many stories written about them. I added these books to my library and read and read and read. I would read until 3AM just engulfing myself into their universe of love.

It wasn't long until I had a favourite dynamic of who was the top and who was the bottom; then only reading and enjoying that specific dynamic. I was mainly obsessed with one of them though and read every single thing related to him. him x the others, it didn't matter because it was him. Though my favourite otp above all the rest was him x the other guy.

I was very, very happy with the authors I followed and supported and all, as so many of them created so much amazing and good content. I had so many stories in my library saved and I had read all of them more than 20 times. (no joke). I had two absolute favourite authors and I was more than obsessed with their works as they only ever posted about the otp and did so beautifully. it was clear they were just as obsessed. One of them did eventually went mia for a while due to some things happening, and she came back a year later with an update to one of the stories and was more than active. the other favourite author went mia until their account eventually got deleted. She was my #1 writer and me and the other 15k+ followers were more than obsessed with everything she released.

It also wasn't long for me to start getting into writing the stories myself. I remember writing my first ever story of my otp and finishing it at 4AM on a school night. I was filled with joy and adrenaline because I was simply so happy to be writing things about them and obsessing over them.

I shared the story with my best friend and she helped me edit it, read it over for me, gave me suggestions etc. before finally publishing it. That story did extraordinarily well on the platform and it wasn't long before I started pumping out more work. Every work I shared and finished did better than the next. I had gained over 1.2k followers in a span of 2 months and it only continued to grow from there. Engagements were high, everyone was active, it was more than amazing.

I realized I loved writing my otp because I was in complete control of the story. I could write about absolutely anything and could feed the hunger within me that was so obsessed with them. I had so many ideas and fantasies that I was able to publish and it seemed there were just as many people waiting for it as those stories did extrodinarily well. I wasn't only obsessed with my otp but again with him and so many of my stories consisted of him x xyz in the group simply because I loved the dynamic he had with the others as well; and also watched content regarding any of his ships.

I had published so many stories until the point I stopped reading on wattpad and became a main author myself on that platform when it came to the otp. I was starving for some new content about my otp, something fresh, something clean and brand new that I had never seen before but it came to a point where wattpad simply did not have what I was looking for. The quality I wanted, I could not find on wattpad. I had eventually slowed down my writing and barely published new works; but updated chapters here and there times.

Twitter and AO3

I craved some new content really bad but didn't know where to look. I went to wattpad to try to fill parts of the cravings but it did not work anymore. I got bored of reading the same thing over and over but couldn't go a day without not indulging.

I'm not sure how I stumbled upon twitter, but this was also the very first time I was introduced to stan twitter. My wp handle and twitter handle were the same. I updated my followers on wp that I now had a twitter account and told them I would be more active there. Quickly I found content regarding my otp and his numerous ships, and the dynamic I enjoyed. I followed accounts that also loved and were obsessed with him and his other ships as well. The community was huge.

I believe this was when I came across AO3. I'm not sure exactly how I found it but I was in love. AO3 was levels above wattpad. It was and still is in a leauge of it's own. The writing quality was absolutely beautiful, the mountains of stories and stories regarding my ships and especially my otp made my mouth water. I was amazed and in awe that such a platform existed and it was only now that I came across it. I believe my friend knew about it long before I did and helped me get use to the platform. I quickly created an AO3 account which had the same handle as my wp and twt.

It did not take long for me at all to start publishing. My first work and gained many kudos and love from so many, so many comments I received were written in paragraphs; it's as if they wrote an entire story in my comments. Quickly, my following on twitter grew exponentially. I loved writing so much and loved that there was a large community for all of this. I soon found other writers on twitter and fanartists and what not, and I read all their content and reposted it all too. It was amazing. I couldn't ask for anything better. Everyday there was something new for me to induldge in regarding my otp and any of his ships. I truly couldn't believe it. Even if it was in another language I would find a translation for it.

It was interesting to learn that there were people more obsessed than I was on an entirely different level.

I published more content and gained lots of exposure--even becoming twitter mutuals with one of my all time favourite writers of my otp. She was very well known for her works about the otp and I was so excited that she loved my stories just as much. I had moved from wp to twitter and AO3. I would receive so many dms of people saying they loved my works and how thankful they were about me and the content and ideas I would produce. People also dm'd me suggestions about what to write and a story line they would love to see and of course I took so many things into consideration and would publish them. My best friend even helped me work on some stories together, we brainstormed and wrote it together, it was very fun. She wasn't in the fandom or anything like that but liked helping me out fomr time to time or whenever I needed it.

Eventually, not only did I publish fics but started posting fanart as well. (I used to be an artist until it no longer interested me) I posted lots of otp art, and it gained lots of traction as well.

I even participated in kinktober (for fanfics) and wrote something every single day and published it. It did well of course. I never wanted to do it again as it was also draining.

Things could only go up from there. I was well known within the community, my works were being shared amongst others and were included in threads regarding reccomendations. Every single day there was new content regarding my otp and any of his ships, the fan art from fanartists was of insane and highest quality, writing from writers was of amazing and highest quality it was just an amazing sight. I was even surprised my favourite fanartist had a twitter as well since I only found her on tumblr, and of course her following was just as grand on both platforms. I would go through all the art she published everyday as it was just too good. She was and is still very popular.

I literally could not go a day without my otp. Every day I was indulging in anything and everything about them and was utterly obsessed. It legitamatly was one of the main things that brought me happiness (lol).

I also realized much later on that I only cared about my otp and his other ships. If it was any other ships that included someone in my main otp in their ship, I wouldn't even engage with it or bother to acknowledge it but it brought me annoyance. Yes, this literally would drop my mood down and make me upset. So, to lighten my mood again I would go back and simply engage with my otp content. I realized that majority of the community did not like that other communties otp as they would harass us as they solely wanted their otp to be the main one. It was out of some sort of jealousy since our otp announced many things together, worked together in duo projects, and always paired together in everything.

Curious cat

Moving forward, I had eventually created a curious cat as I had seen it was something a lot of content creators within stan twitter had. I would recieve hundreads of anonymous messages everyday and would respond to them. 98% of it was very, very posititve and had nice things to say about my writing and etc. the other 2% were low lifes, bottom of the barrel individuals who sent odd things about the otp and my writing because they wanted me to write about their otp. I made it clear that if they were that upset, they should go write it on their own. I would even get dt because some people were that upset.

Majority of the community was on my side when it came to any rude messages from anonymous', and would defend me.

It was fun but eventually I closed down my curious cat due to receiving too many messages on a daily bases and not being able to respond to them at once.

Closing Twitter

Twitter was very toxic in general. Even amongst the main group fandom it was just weird. I loved the community and everything having to do with our otp but twitter was just not the vibe for me. Despite having many devout followers, I didn't like being on the platform anymore; so I closed my account down and remained only on AO3. Of course people were very upset about my account closing as I had lots of content on my account that many would revisit daily, and it wasn't on AO3.

I still regined without a twitter account. I published and eveyrone was content and just glad that I was still active.

Present

I am no longer obsessed. Though, I did publish something this October since I hadn't published something in a very long time and of course it's doing numbers.

I skipped quite a few things in this story since I don't consider them to be too relevent to this story. I have many more stories to tell regarding stan twitter and being a solo at one point but those are stories for another day.

I'm wondering if anyone knows the ship. I don't think I said anything specific at all; the information provided is so broad.

[andreafmn]

Bound

Word Count: 12.6K

Requested: by @byelannie "if you have spare time and if you’re interested, please write a rosalie x fem!reader who’s either a lawyer or a witch (or both)"

Story Description: Rosalie always carried the resentment of not being able to fulfill the image of the perfect family she had in her head. But what if she found everything that she wanted in the most unconventional way? The universe truly knows how to play tricks.

Pairings: Rosalie Hale x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of suicide, implied smut, mentions of death

A/N: I did my best and I hope you like it. I also added a bit of a soulmate au and got carried away.

And, if it’s not a big ask, please check out my other socials and my Etsy store 😊

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(Y/N) remembered the day it all had changed for her.

April of 1933, she had felt a shift in herself. At first, she believed it to be a magical resurgence. But after some years had passed, and her features had become stagnant, she understood that something else had changed within her.

(Y/N) was a young witch, learning the Wiccan ways with a coven in Vermont, using the earth’s resources to power their magic. She had grown up listening to stories of her powerful ancestors and all the supernatural beings that lived in the world. Yet no one had taught her why she was experiencing this halt in her aging.

All until one day, Margaret, one of the coven’s elders, pulled her aside noticing the changes – or lack thereof – the young girl was going through.

“Is something the matter, Margaret?”

“I was wondering the same thing, (Y/N),” the woman smiled brightly. “I couldn’t help but notice in the last five years your face has remained as young as it was five years ago.”

“Oh, that.” (Y/N) looked down. She had been working tirelessly to find answers by herself, but no one seemed to be able to give her what she needed. “I wouldn’t be able to tell you anything about that just yet.”

“Why don’t you have a seat, little one?” Margaret invited her to sit on the rocking chairs that lived on her wooden porch, grabbing a worn-out book from a shelf. “I assume your search for answers has rendered fruitless. There’s no surprise there, not much has been recorded about your particular situation.”

“My situation? I can’t say I’m following what you’re saying, ma’am.”

“Do you remember the teachings about soul pairing and binding?” (Y/N) nodded, unsure of where the conversation was leading. “I am sure you also remember the teachings of other supernatural beings that share our spaces. This journal right here belonged to my great-great-grandmother.”

“Lady Esther? Those are the personal writings of our first High Priestess?”

“Grandmother Esther made sure to record each and every situational encounter she had, preserving a possible solution to the most curious cases. The books have been passed down from generation to generation to aid in scenarios such as yours, where not even supernatural logic makes too much sense,” she laughed. “As soon as I saw the signs, I remembered a story she had written in her personal journal – this book has been open only to our family’s eyes. When she was younger, she went through the same thing you are right now.”

“So it has happened before?”

“That is correct, my dear. And she was just as confused as you are,” she rocked. Margaret flipped through the pages until she landed on the specific date she was looking for, handing the open book to the expectant girl. “It was a hard time to be a witch back then – not that it’s any easier now – but somehow she had managed to skate by unnoticed. One day, she noticed her face had stopped aging. Remaining as she had been years ago, but she didn’t know why. That was until she met Samuel.”

“A vampire?” Margaret confirmed. “But I’m not sure I understand. How did meeting Samuel affect her physical status?”

“You’re rushing the story, my child,” Margaret chuckled. The girl was itching for answers, but patience was something the elder always taught. “There’s a reason I mentioned soul pairings earlier. We believe that when we are born and reborn fragments of our soul enter the lives of others, tethering them to our lives. Throughout your life, you might meet some of your soulmates, yet no connection will be as strong as the bonded soul. Not many find them in their lifetime. The lucky few that do experience a love like no other. That’s what Samuel was to Esther – the love of a lifetime. Are you following?”

“I believe so. They had a supernatural connection that tied their lives together.”

“You’ve always been a smart one, (Y/N). As the years went on, Esther started to tie loose ends together. The reason she was never changing was because he was never changing. Bonded souls are connected, body and heart. When Samuel had been turned into a vampire and became immortal, so did she. Esther wrote about how after the first encounter, her magic was stronger and her connection to the elements felt surreal. But the love she felt when she was with him was something unparalleled to anything she had experienced in this lifetime.”

“If she’s immortal, how come we’ve never met her? How are you here? Vampires can’t procreate.”

“In those times vampires were still heavily hunted. Samuel had gone into town one day and unfortunately never made it back home. They shared thirty years building a life together, isolated from society. Living in the shadows, doing their best to survive. Unfortunately, once Samuel’s life ended, so did Esther’s immortality. Her life cycle had regained its normalcy. She had been devastated for a long time, she describes how she felt her body was hollowed out and her magic began to falter.

Fortunately, she found love again in the man who was my great-great-grandfather, Abraham. They made a family together, creating our coven. Esther never forgot Samuel, carrying his memory close to her heart every day that passed until her death after approximately 140 years of life. Her story now is not unlike yours. Granted, now supernatural beings have learned and adapted to the ever-changing society.”

“But this means that as time goes by, everyone I love will pass and I will continue on being as I am today. How do I cope with losing all the people closest to me whilst I have no foreseeable ending to this life?”

“Death is something we all must endure, one day or another. Even immortal beings face mortality in many ways. How to handle the inevitability of death is a very personal thing. In time you’ll learn the best way to accept it.”

And so, she had. (Y/N) learned how to accept the passing of many people – her family, coven members, and even a few loves came and went.

She found comfort in the fact that her bonded soul was a vampire and she had until the end of forever to find them. As long as her face didn’t change, and the strong magic coursed through her veins, she knew she still had time to find them.

For now, her company was the most important thing on her mind. Entering the 21stcentury her interest had been set onto law practices. She had gone to college several times, but nothing drove her more than when she was accepted to Harvard Law School. The hardest part of her journey was to not be captured by cameras – cementing her image a publicly accessible record of who she was. Granted, she had also become well versed in manipulation magic just in case a click slipped by. Albeit avoiding the flash was difficult when she was at the top of her class and a well-known student through campus. But she managed, and as soon as she graduated, she opened her firm.

New Forest Law grew rapidly, opening offices across the US as years went by. Due to her nature (Y/N) knew she couldn’t be the face of the operation, so she enlisted the help of coven members to lead the different seeds of her company. The reason she only trusted members of her family was because of a side of the business only a select few knew of. (Y/N) knew that many supernatural beings were in need of reliable forgers and knowledgeable lawyers. Her offices cornered the market on perfecting the forgery of any and all legal documents needed to skate by legally in the states.

That’s how she found herself in Washington state, this time as the manager of their new office in Forks. She was happy to be back in a state where the weather was cold, and nature took up more space than people did.

One fateful day, a peculiar man entered her office. The moment she saw his features, it clicked – vampire. But that wasn’t what stood out, she had seen hundreds of vampires before. This one had golden eyes. He had to be one of the famous Cullens.

“Mr. Cullen, I presume?” He nodded. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss (Y/L/N).” He shook her hand, flashing a bright smile. “And, please, call me Carlisle.”

“Only if you call me (Y/N),” she smiled back. “Safe to assume you’re here for documentation, correct?”

“Yes. My family and I want to come back to Forks.”

“How long has it been since you’ve last lived here?”

“It’s been almost seventy years now,” he chuckled. “I’m so glad we finally have an office in this town. I have been using this company since the 50s. It’s been such an amazing service for all supernatural beings, and I’ll say for humans as well.”

“Well, it’s so good to hear such words from a valued customer. I’m glad New Forest has been doing what I created it for.”

“You’re the creator of New Forest Law?” Carlisle was perplexed. The woman sitting in front of him could not be any older than he was at the time he had been turned — to that day a hybrid vampire-witch was unheard of. “Excuse my crudeness, but how long have you been the age that you are, (Y/N)? I had the understanding that the creator of New Forest was a witch.”

“I comprehend the confusion, Carlisle. I am a witch, and the universe has worked to bind my soul to that of a vampire,” she smiled. “I have been twenty years old for seventy years — since the spring of 1933.”

Carlisle’s ears perked at the sound of the date. Of course, hundreds of vampires had been formed during that time. But there was a person in his family that had yet to find a mate that had been changed in April of 1933. “The world truly is a mystery that gets unraveled as years go by. If it’s not too much imposition, I’d like to invite you over to my house to meet my family — I want to show my gratitude for all that your company has done for us.”

“I wouldn’t oppose to that. I’m free this weekend and having friends in a new town is always a welcome bonus.”

“Well then, that’s settled. Now onto business,” he grinned.

Excitement had built up inside (Y/N) during the coming days. The Cullens were an infamous family in supernatural circles — their vegetarian lifestyle was celebrated by many as a safer lifestyle for the blood-dependent clan. She had heard stories of them, the golden-eyed family. How Carlisle had l turned only those in desperate need of salvation and created the second most powerful vampire coven in the world. It was no secret that the supernatural world intrigued (Y/N), vampires the most. Underlying personal interests in the latter.

The directions to the Cullen house were easy enough to follow. A couple of turns and she was met with a beautiful modern mansion engulfed by the vast greenery that was scattered through the town. Nerves ran through her as she put her car in park, the events that would soon commence finally being digested by her brain. Her hands trembled as she held the orchids she had bought as a welcome back gift for the family. The blue flowers stood proudly in the stone pot they had come in — if she was being honest, she wanted to keep them for her own house.

(Y/N) walked slowly toward the front door, carefully watching her step as to not trip. The giant glass door was intimidating, her hand scared to knock on it. She was sure they had heard her by now, allowing the courtesy of first-time guest etiquette. After making contact with the door, she smoothed her clothing down ensuring the garments looked perfect.

In a matter of seconds, Carlisle’s bright smile was in view. At his side, the woman she quickly recognized as Esme. (Y/N) found comfort in the fact that she knew the faces and the names of the family — dealing with their personal documents gave her the advantage.

“(Y/N), we’re so glad you could be here tonight. This is my wife Esme,” he beamed.

“Thank you for inviting me into your beautiful home. I brought these for you.” (Y/N) handed the pot to Esme’s welcoming arms. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“These are gorgeous,” Esme smiled. “I’m positive Rosalie will love the color of them. Thank you, (Y/N). We’ve all heard wonderful things about you.”

“Well, come on in. Everyone is waiting on the back porch.” Carlisle directed the women to the back of the house.

The girl stared in awe at the beautiful décor. It was clean, modern, spacious. The house looked lived-in, homey. And the energy was welcoming — a warm aura that engulfed all of your senses. No one would have known that they had just moved into the property. Outside, the rest of the clan was chattering away. They did look like a family, a strong bond that started and ended with a bite.

“Everyone, this is (Y/N),” Esme announced. “(Y/N), this is Edward, Emmett, Jasper, and Alice. We seem to be missing Rosalie, though.”

“She’s still inside,” Edward explained. “Should be coming down any second now.”

“She insisted her outfit wasn’t good enough,” Alice laughed. “It passed my check of approval but for the first time that wasn’t enough. Guess she wants to leave a good impression on our new friend (Y/N). You look beautiful!”

“Oh, thank you, Alice. You look beautiful as well.” She was taken aback when Alice circled her with a sudden tight hug.

“Alice, darling, unhand the poor woman,” Jasper chuckled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Jasper, right?” She shook his hand. “You’re the newest addition to the family.”

“You’ve done your research.”

“It makes it easier when I’m handed all of your information. Pardon my intrusion, but how are you handling the smell of my blood? Carlisle commented that you’re still rather disconcerted by blood.”

“Witch blood is not as appealing as human blood.” (Y/N) didn’t know whether to be relieved or offended. At least she knew the taste of her blood was at the bottom of the chain for vampires. “Don’t get me wrong, blood is blood. Witch blood is more of an acquired taste.”

“Thankfully he lives the vegetarian life now,” Emmett boasted, slapping Jasper on the back. His voice was loud and joyous — certainly knew how to command a room. “There’s nothing to worry about here, (Y/N). We always keep him in check.”

“Thank you, Emmett. There was no doubt in my mind that I was safe with all of you.”

“It’s the truth,” Edward interjected. His smile was playful, playing on the tone Emmett had set for them.

“Ah, how could I forget the mind reader?” (Y/N) shook his hand, reciprocating the grin he provided. “I will need to refresh my memory on mental barriers then. Some thoughts are best kept hidden.”

“You are welcomed to try,” he laughed.

“It seems there’s still one more person for you to be introduced to,” Esme announced. “I wonder what is taking her so long.”

“She was fixing her makeup,” Edward called out. “She should be heading for the stairs now.”

As if on cue, heeled footsteps were heard oncoming down the staircase. She had seen Rosalie’s picture already, her beauty an entrancing view. And she wondered what she would look like in person. Carlisle had mentioned that after her shift she had gotten the gift of supernatural beauty, going beyond that which was attributed to the immortal beings. (Y/N) had stared at her picture longer than she had the others. There just was something about her that seemed to draw the witch in.

But nothing prepared her for the breathtaking moment she would experience.

Rosalie walked out onto the porch and (Y/N)’s lungs tightened. Her beauty was like no other. Locks of golden hair fell onto her pale shoulders, exposed from the off-shoulder black dress she wore.

It was her eyes.

It was her eyes that pulled (Y/N) in. For a second, she felt the world stop; she felt the magic coursing through her veins start pulsating. She wanted to get closer… no, she needed to get closer, to be closer. The witch felt an energy pulling her toward the vampire, making her body ache from the distance between them. Reading about bonded souls was nothing compared to feeling it.

Rosalie could feel it too. For years she had felt a void in her heart as she tried to form a connection with Edward or Emmett. She had felt nothing for Edward, but she had hoped she could come to feel for Emmett what Esme felt for Carlisle. Yet, it didn’t. She always believed there was someone out there for her, she could feel it in her being. There was another heart tied to her always pulling at it. Albeit she always thought of this, she never pondered on what would happen once she did encounter this person. And she certainly never imagined them to be a witch or a woman.

The vampire had also stopped in her walk. Falling intoxicated by the state of the person in front of her. The only way she could describe the moment was like how she had heard the mutts would imprint. Nothing mattered more than her — she was her reason for living.

“Did something just happen?” Emmett interrupted unaware of the connection that had occurred. “It’s been years since I’ve seen Rosalie tongue-tied.”

“Why don’t we leave you two to talk?” Carlisle announced. He formatted the sentence as a question, but the stare on his face indicated that it was a command.

Slowly, the rest of the Cullens made their way inside, pulling a questioning Emmett with a laugh. They closed the glass doors to provide the illusion of privacy. The supernatural hearing did not allow for it to be done completely.

“Hi, I’m…”

“Hi, I’m…”

Both women spoke at the same time, laughing at the eagerness they showed.

“Hi, I’m (Y/N),” she stuck her hand out. “You must be Rosalie.”

“I am.” The blonde disregarded the extended hand and pulled (Y/N) into a hug. Their bodies colliding naturally together, a feeling of familiarity rushing between them.

“It’s you, isn’t it? The person I’ve been searching for all these years — the reason I’m still alive,” the witch blurted. “Please tell me you feel it too.”

“I do,” Rosalie answered bashfully. She was sure that had she had blood running through her veins her cheeks would have turned a deep shade of red. “I’ve only heard stories of this feeling. I thought I would never get to experience it in my lifetime. But what do you mean I’m the reason you’re still alive?”

“I stopped aging in 1933, years later I discovered my soul was bonded to a vampire. Since then, I’ve been searching for who that person could be, lucky enough I had all the time in the world. I just knew there was a reason Forks was calling my name… it was you.”

“Wow, I didn’t know that could ever be real. Soul bonds were only whispers where I grew up. Yet here you are. Standing before me in all your beauty and glory. I haven’t slept in I haven’t slept in seventy years, but I feel like I’m dreaming. Please tell me that I’m not dreaming.”

“I can assure you that you are wide awake. Although beauty such as yours was only real to me in dreams.” (Y/N) extended her hand and placed it on top of Rosalie’s. The sudden coldness conducting sparks up her arm. “In the spirit of forwardness and complete transparency, I’d love to take you out on a more private outing. I fear lingering ears and wandering eyes would not leave us in this household.”

Rosalie turned her head to look through the big glass doors, noting the rapid turn of the heads of her family members and laughing softly at their lack of discretion. “I must apologize for them. They mean well, but at times can be overly engaged in people’s private lives. And of course, I’d love to see you every day from now on. Now that I’ve met you, how will I be able to be apart from you?”

“You will not have to know of that day for as long as we are both alive,” (Y/N) reassured. Her hands traveled up the blonde’s arm, resting on her cheeks for a comforting caress. Rosalie leaned into the touch, feeling the slight warmth from the blood that pumped through her body — a feeling she could still remember as if her change had been just yesterday.

Their faces inches closer and closer, lips lingering close enough to feel a phantom touch. (Y/N)’s thumbs drew circles on Rosalie’s cheeks, her eyes asking for permission to finally make contact. As golden and (Y/E/C) embers fluttered closed, both crashed in to finally mend the gap between them. It was all they could imagine and more.

Unconsciously, (Y/N)’s magic decided to make an appearance — the leaves that had gathered on the porch had started circling them, the fire in the lit pit had grown stronger, the wind blowing harder. Blue lights started surrounding the women, lifting them softly off the ground. In their passion, these changes went unnoticed by the pair until the glass doors slid open, revealing the shocked faces of the Cullen clan. They both landed with a soft thud and finally saw what was happening around them.

“I must apologize for this,” (Y/N) chuckled. “My magic can get away from me at times.”

“That… was… AWESOME!” Emmett jumped excitedly. “She’s definitely my new favorite person. Sorry, guys.”

“She’s my new favorite person, too,” Rosalie flirted. “Now, why don’t we go inside and enjoy some family time.”

From that night on, (Y/N) had kept her promise. Not a single day had gone where they didn’t see each other. The only time they were apart was when Rosalie played the part of a high school student and (Y/N) was busy at work with official and unofficial business. Unfortunately, their romantic expressions were reserved for the Cullen house and (Y/N)’s house. Frowned upon would be their relationship since to everyone in town (Y/N) was a 23-year-old lawyer and Rosalie was a 16-year-old sophomore in high school.

At first, Rosalie didn’t mind having to hide away her relationship from the public eye. She wanted (Y/N) all to herself for as long as she could. But old habits die hard, and she was finding it difficult to repress as their year and a half anniversary rolled around. The blonde was getting tired of keeping her hands on her person when they would enjoy a trip to the shops in Port Angeles, having to go out with some of her siblings or a parent as to not arise suspicion as to why (Y/N) was with her, reserving kisses for their private homes. Rosalie wanted to show her new relationship to everyone, to bring jealousy to all the people that wanted her and all the people that wanted her girlfriend. The younger girl was growing tired of her classmates trying to ask her out on dates, and she was infuriated at the people that tried to ask (Y/N) out or even flirted with her in her presence.

The night of their anniversary, her annoyance was evident on the scowl she wore as an accessory to her silk blue dress.

(Y/N) had addressed these feelings some time ago, telling her that what mattered is that both of them knew how much they loved each other regardless of all the obstacles they had to face. At the time, Rosalie seemed pleased with her words, but that night it was like they were never spoken.

The witch had arranged for a romantic date on the porch of her enclosed backyard. She had enchanted candles floating, a white blanket laid on the floor, and rose petals resting on top. The walls were decorated in an assortment of flower arrangements, making the area look like an enchanted forest. Music was playing through the speakers, and champagne was cooling in a bucket for (Y/N). She had also bought a beautiful arrangement of orchids to hint back at the night they had finally met and a piece of jewelry that had been screaming at her since the day she brought it home from the shop. (Y/N) wanted… no, (Y/N) needed this night to be perfect. But Rosalie’s mood seemed to put a damper on her plans.

“Angel, is something the matter? Did you not like the surprise?”

“It’s not that,” Rosalie groaned. “I don’t want to sound like a broken record, but I can not stand any longer having to hide our life from everyone. It’s not fair, and sometimes it seems like you prefer it that way.”

“Darling, it hurts me just as much that I can’t even hold your hand in public without someone raising an eyebrow. It’s horribly agonizing that I can’t even have you live with me because my neighbors might start rumors. And given how small this town is, it wouldn’t take long for everyone to know.” (Y/N)’s eyes started to sting from the pool of tears that were accumulating. Here she was on a night that was supposed to be the happiest she would remember, but it had taken a painful turn. “ Don’t you think that I’d much rather kiss you when I felt like kissing you, embrace you when I felt like wrapping my arms around you, be able to just tell people that I am in a relationship with the most amazing woman I have ever met? Don’t you think my heart shatters every time you have to go back home, or when I have to say I’m tutoring you to people that have seen you come to my home or my office?”

Rosalie stayed quiet, and (Y/N) continued her tearful plea. “There is not a morning that goes by when you are not the first thought in my head and not a single night that goes by where I lay restless in bed if you’re not there. Although my heart was beating, I had not been alive until I met you — I had not known love until I met you,” she bellowed. “Should you decide to leave me for another that you can be public with, I shall understand. But know you will be taking my heart with you, and my soul will always be yours.”

“No,” Rosalie choked out. At that moment, she missed the burning of tears, the knot in her throat, the physical component of sorrow that humans could portray. She was never good with words and would often rely on physical reactions to display what she was feeling. “I don’t want anyone else, the only person I’ve ever wanted is you. I’m sorry for doubting your feelings and not taking into consideration the pain you must feel as well. In my human life, appearance and status were everything to my family and me. It’s hard to let that part of me go. I do not want to know loneliness as I did before I met you. You’ve taught me unconditional love and acceptance, and all I want is to give you that in return. And I could never forgive myself if I ever make you feel like I just did. I don’t want to see those beautiful eyes to shed another tear because of me. I’m sorry for being so superficial.”

“You need not apologize for natural emotions, my angel. But I need you to trust that my heart burns only for you and it will for as long as we both shall live. You are my beginning and my end; you are the love I never knew I needed in my life. And if words are not enough…” (Y/N) dug her hand under the blanket they sat on, pulling out a velvet black box. She popped the lid open and revealed a ring adorned with diamonds and blue shining sapphire. “My mother once hoped that I would marry in her lifetime but, as years went by, she knew I wouldn’t. This ring belonged to her, and she gave it to me, drowned in her blessing, for me or my wife to wear. Since the day I met you, it finally had its reason for being. I cannot promise you a public relationship until in the eyes of the town you surpass your eighteenth birthday, and I cannot marry you in front of unknowledgeable eyes. But I will promise to you, in front of your family and our sacred earth, that my love for you will never cease even in distance. So with this ring, I am asking you to grant me my heart’s deepest desire of having you as my wife.”

“Yes, a million times yes!” Rosalie exclaimed, crashing her lips onto (Y/N)’s and wrapping her arms around her neck. “I can’t promise that sometimes during these next two years I won’t get annoyed at the situations, I will always remember that our love has no bounds and it’s the most sacred thing I have. I love you, (Y/N). I love you with my mind, body, and soul, for as long as we both shall live.”

(Y/N) slipped the ring onto Rosalie’s finger and brought her hand to her lips, placing a soft kiss on the knuckles. “This ring has never looked this beautiful before. I love you, future Mrs. (Y/L/N).”

“And I, you, future Mrs. Hale.” Rosalie laughed as she kissed her fiancé once more.

In a few weeks’ time, they had a small ceremony with the Cullen family and close friends of (Y/N)’s coven in attendance. Alice had organized the wedding alongside Rosalie every step of the way, taking her role as maid of honor very seriously. On (Y/N)’s side stood her current best friend Sybil Morgan, a witch that was born to the daughter of who had been her best friend in the 30s. She always kept a close watch on her past coven, and always kept ties to the Morgan family as years went on.

On that day (Y/N) promised her wife that once they were able to be public, she would give her the wedding she had always dreamed of. Although Rosalie told her she was content with the ceremony they had, (Y/N) knew that having that day was an important symbol of their love.

Everything was perfect and a living fairy tale for two years. (Y/N)’s office in Forks had already started expansion, and Rosalie was nearing her last year of high school in this town. All signs pointed to their dream life.

That was until Isabella Swan crash-landed into their lives.

Rosalie made no effort to hide her disgust of Bella’s relationship with Edward. Complaining time and time again how could a human be so stupid to renounce their life to be with a vampire. (Y/N) had let her vent out her feelings, running her hand through her hair to calm down the blonde as she laid on her chest rambling on how reckless her brother was being. It stung how Rosalie could do mindlessly refer to herself and her own kind as monsters, claiming that no living being should sacrifice their chance at a normal life to be with a lifeless creature.

But one night, in particular, had shattered (Y/N).

It had been a year since Bella’s introduction to the supernatural world, and it had resulted in a tragic accident. Thankfully the girl had survived the attack James had orchestrated, but it created ripples in their time. Her eighteenth birthday had been statement enough when Jasper launched at her after she cut her hand on wrapping paper. The Cullens had decided it was not safe for them to stay in Forks.

In the days after the birthday party fiasco, Rosalie had started to grow distant. For the first time in three years, she had not gone to (Y/N)’s house, claiming she had a group project due soon for school or that it had simply slipped her mind. Reasons (Y/N) knew were just excuses from her wife.

That night she couldn’t take it anymore and had decided to pick Rosalie up from school to drive her directly to her home. With some protest, the blonde got in the car and went to the house. No more words were spoken between them until they arrived at the house.

“Angel, what has been going on with you these past few days? You’ve been distant, it’s like you’re avoiding me,” she bewailed. “Did I do something wrong?”

Rosalie’s stare was cold, angry some would say. (Y/N) had never seen that emotion directed towards her. “It’s not really that you did anything wrong. We’re leaving.”

“Leaving? Rose, what do you mean?”

“People have started noticing Carlisle isn’t aging, so we have to go. Everyone else has already gone, I had to tell you before I went as well.”

“You’re leaving? W-what?” (Y/N)’s voice faltered as emotions surged through her, needing all her strength as to not let her powers flow rampart. “Were you planning to leave without me? Is that why you’ve waited until the last possible second to tell me?”

“Yes,” she responded, emotionless. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s it? You’re sorry?! Baby, I-I love you and until a few seconds ago I was under the impression that you loved me too,” (Y/N) was now wailing. The tears that had poured, warming her skin and streamed down her cheeks. “Everything we’ve promised to each other, every kiss, every embrace; how can you just walk away from it?”

“I’ve never wanted this life, (Y/N). I never wanted to be an everlasting shell of a person pretending to be alive,” she scoffed. “There were things I wanted to do as a human, a picture of how my life should look. To be married with a nice house and a husband who kissed me when he came home. A family of my own. I can’t have that anymore, I never will.”

“But we could still have a beautiful life you and me, together. How can you give up so easily?”

“I’m not giving up; I’m simply accelerating the inevitable. You have your life ahead of you, the chance to have a family, a warm body that rests with you at night and wakes up next to you in the morning. I will never be able to give you that… and you will never be able to give it to me.”

“What does it matter, darling? You and me, that’s what’s most important. It has been since we were born, our souls forever bounded. How can our love not be enough?”

“One cannot survive on love alone. You may not see it now, but I am saving you years of resentment,” Rosalie stated. Not once had she looked at (Y/N) directly into her eyes — she had broken her promise. “I know there is an unbinding spell. I suggest you use it and move on with your life. At least you have that choice. I have made mine. Goodbye, (Y/N).”

Those last words had not registered in (Y/N)’s brain until Rosalie placed her ring on the witch’s hand and disappeared into the dark of the night. The woman was kneeling on the floor, her closed eyes fixated on the jewelry on her hand. It had been a symbol of their love, the constant reminder that their love could survive anything. Anything but this. She ran outside for a second, hoping that this had just been a malevolent joke that’s they would laugh at in time and that her love would be waiting for her outside. But she was gone. Rosalie was truly gone.

She fell to the ground as violent sobs shook (Y/N)’s body, then she let out a wrecking shriek. Blue energy sprouted from her body and the house around her exploded in flames, everything inside disappearing in the fire.

(Y/N) was glad the house was gone, that way the memory of her short life with Rosalie could burn along with it. But she felt empty like her heart had been ripped out of her chest. The pain was too excruciating for her to bear, so she had Sybil concoct a numbing potion. In her state, any magic she did was too unpredictable, and the results could be fatal.

And she threw herself into her work. The witch shredded all evidence of the Cullens and worked around the clock for the office, spending every waking moment in ongoing and new cases. For months, her life became an auto-pilot routine of sleep, eat, work, repeat — the bare minimum to ensure her survival. Not that Sybil would allow anything less, making sure she at least ate two meals a day. (Y/N) had started to regret having hired her to work as her assistant.

She wanted answers, and she feared she would never get them. Half a year had already gone by, and no signs pointed to the Cullens coming back. Half a year of (Y/N) mulling over whether to go through with the unbinding spell or not — how much longer could she survive with the wrenching hole in her chest before it actively killed her? She hadn’t grown used to Rosalie’s absence, and she didn’t think she ever would. She had lived 90 years without knowing her, yet after only three years her life had completely crumbled when she had walked away.

(Y/N) had contemplated ending her misery. She was tethered to an immortal being but that didn’t make her indestructible. Albeit the thoughts always flashed through her head, especially at night, too many people counted on her. And if she didn’t continue her life for herself, she would do it for the people around her.

On the seventh month, a soft knock rang through her new house. It was a house deeper in the woods, resembling the modern structure the Cullen’s house had, as well as the proximity to nature. Not having neighbors proving to be far more comfortable for her. (Y/N) thought it was Sybil who had left her purse in her home last night, although (Y/N) had told her she’d bring it into the office today.

“Sybil, I said you don’t have to come all this way.” Her laugh died down when she opened the door. She wasn’t met with the onyx-colored hair girl, but instead by the golden locks of her anguish. “Rose.”

“Hi, (Y/N),” she answered sheepishly.

“What’re you doing here, Rosalie?” (Y/N) spoke through gritted teeth, biting down hard to control her feelings.

“Well, um, we’re coming b-back. Uh, my family and I are moving back to Forks.” Her lips turned upward into a smile, and that angered (Y/N). How could she show up out of nowhere and uproot her life once more?

“Am I supposed to celebrate? Welcome you all back with open arms?”

“I-I, um, I just thought you should know.” Rosalie looked down, the pain in the eyes of the woman she loved was too much to bear. “I went by your old house and saw it was being reconstructed. Mrs. Willow told me you moved here after the place burned down. It’s a beautiful home.”

“I’m glad it has your approval,” she seethed. “Anything else?”

“You’re still wearing your ring,” Rosalie pointed. A sign of hope in their relationship.

“Last time I checked I was still married.”

“Look, (Y/N). I know what I did was unforgivable, and I have no right to ask for a second chance, but if you could ever find it in your heart to speak to me, please come find me.”

“You’re correct, you don’t have the right.” (Y/N) slammed the door on her face and fell back against the door. Waiting until she was sure Rosalie was gone before letting her agonizing sobs ring out. The only thing she could think to do was call Sybil and ask her to come by the house.

The poor girl rushed to her friend’s houses, being able to decipher only one word through her cries — Rosalie. She sped to (Y/N)’s home, letting herself in with the key she owned. The scene before her gave her a sense of déjà vu, it was the same scene she had lived for the first three months of the separation.

(Y/N) was sprawled on her couch, a blanket wrapped around her, and tears falling infinitely from her eye. All the curtains were drawn, and around her body floated scrunched-up pieces of tissues. When an audible sob rang out, items in the house floated and fell back down as she breathed. Her friend’s emotions were spiraling, and she couldn’t allow another tragedy to ensue in this house.

“Okay, come on, darling. Use your big girl words. What happened?” After a few hours of comfort, (Y/N) seemed to calm down enough to be able to conduct an understandable conversation. “All I know is that the Cullens are back.”

“They are,” (Y/N) sobbed. “And now Rosalie is asking for a chance to explain what she did, asking for a second chance. How could she after everything I went through?”

“Darling, I’m team (Y/N) all the way, but allow me to play devil’s advocate,” Sybil tested the waters. She didn’t want to anger her friend, but she had been involved in too many heartaches to not have a bit of experience in the matter. “Don’t you think she was in just as much pain ad you were when she left? On your wedding day, I could feel the amount of love that radiated from you both, it was overwhelming. With that amount of love, the girl had to have a very good reason to break both of your hearts. Don’t you want to know the reason why?”

“I don’t like that you’re this smart for someone that is technically so many years younger than me.” (Y/N) wiped her tears away and sat up on the couch. “It’s worse that you’re an empath. You literally feel the proof.”

“I know, it’s a curse honestly,” she chuckled. “But seriously, allow yourself to find closure on this chapter. Whether it be for good, or to finally be able to unbind yourself and move on.”

“I will. Thank you, Syb. For all that you’ve done, I’m forever indebted to you.”

“I’ll take that into consideration.”

It was a Friday, and since she had spent the day wallowing in pity, she decided it would be a good time to sleep in. The next day she would confront Rosalie and put everything on the table.

12 hours came and went quickly.

(Y/N) couldn’t believe that the clock read ten am when she opened her eyes. She had truly been drained. But she couldn’t wait any longer. She took a quick shower, got ready, drank a steaming cup of coffee, and drove down the very familiar road to the Cullen house.

Nothing had changed in the building. It was as if the family had never left.

Her car rolled up the pathway, and before it had stopped, Rosalie was on her side. It took everything in (Y/N) to not start yelling curses and profanities at the woman who was still her wife, but she controlled herself.

“I’m so glad you came, (Y/N),” Rosalie greeted excitedly.

“I’ve agreed to hear you out, Rosalie. Nothing more.” The blonde nodded, hiding the hurt she felt from hearing her name out of (Y/N)’s mouth. For three years she grew accustomed to the beautiful pet names, so hearing her name spoken with such spite hurt.

“I understand,” she sighed. “The boys have gone hunting, and Esme and Alice have gone shopping, so we have the house to ourselves for privacy.”

“Great.”

“Come in,” Rosalie directed. She walked a few paces behind (Y/N), watching her every move. “We can sit in the living room if you want.”

“Alright.” (Y/N) sat on the couch, memories of movie nights and family game nights flooding her mind. “Well, you wanted to explain. So explain.”

“Okay,” Rosalie sat. She was hurt by the coldness with which (Y/N) had met her with, but she couldn’t complain — she would have done the same. “Firstly, I just want to apologize for all the pain and heartache I’ve caused you. At the time I believed I was doing the best thing for both of us. It doesn’t excuse what I did, but I really thought this was the best way to keep you safe. Maybe I just let myself be influenced by Edward too much. After everything that happened with Bella on her birthday, we thought that her association with us could get her killed and us. Just as much as your association with us could get you killed, and I could never forgive myself if something happened to you because you were with me. So, the best choice was to make you believe that our love had reached its end and let you move on. Granted, at the time we believed we’d never come back.”

“Then something must have changed because here you are.”

“Something did change, (Y/N).” Rosalie ramble son everything that had happened in Italy with Edward and the Volturi, and the solution they had provided for the Cullens. “She seems quite absolute in her decision, but what a waste that would be.”

“Rosalie, pardon me, but I don’t care about Edward and Bella. They could turn into garden fairies for all I care,” (Y/N) gritted. “What happened with you? Why did you leave me?”

“I thought it’s what was best,” Rosalie spoke in a volume no louder than a whisper. “I believed that if I was away from you no one would target you as they had targeted Bella. Our plan was to go public with our relationship after I turned eighteen in the public’s eye but look at how many events have transpired in the year Edward and Bella have been together. I don’t want any of that to happen to you, all because of what I am.”

(Y/N)’s heart was beginning to soften. She had yet to see Rosalie in such a vulnerable state. Shame and heartache were evident in her golden eyes, and the love she still felt for her wife was thawing her heart. “Need I remind you, Rosalie, that I am a witch. The power of the Volturi and of any vampire is no match for the power of a witch. Bella is all but a human right now, I am a witch that has lived for ninety years. I’ve met thousands of vampires, shapeshifters, children of the moon, other witches, and I am still here,” she explained. “I have never been just a human, Rosalie. I’ve been in dangerous situations and have come back from them unscathed. I do not need to be protected; I’ve been doing that by myself quite well.”

“But you’re still vulnerable. You may have your magic, but blood still runs inside you. A heart still beats in your chest. You are still made of skin and bones. All it takes is one moment, one moment, and your life could end. Having me in your life only increases those chances of that moment happening. Monsters like me only exist to destroy and I can’t do that to you.”

“Stop calling yourself that,” (Y/N) reprimanded. She wouldn’t allow anyone to speak ill of Rosalie, not even herself. “You are not a monster, Rose. It is not your job to take on my mortality, as well as it is not your job to decide what is best for me. Being a vampire doesn’t make you an empty killing machine. Inside you, there is an immense array of emotions, and you care so deeply for everyone. No monster I’ve known has that level of concern for anyone.”

“I’m just selfish. I care for people so they don’t leave me. I did it with Emmett, and I was prepared to do the same to you.” Rosalie cried dry tears, the only way she could show her sadness. “I should just have gone through with it.”

“Gone through with what, Rose?” The blonde could only stare at her hands, playing with her fingers and avoiding her gaze. “Darling, go through with what?”

“Killing myself,” she breathed out. (Y/N) put her hand over Rosalie’s and squeezed softly. “It was near Christmas, the first one without you, and going back to Forks was not something on my mind. I was vulnerable and weak. I couldn’t handle the pain I was feeling; everything reminded me of you. We had moved to New York, settling down in Ithaca. One day, Emmett convinced me to go back to Rochester to visit my parents’ graves – thinking the familiarity could help appease the ache I was feeling. His heart was in the right place, but all it did was sink me deeper into the hole I dug myself. There was nothing more that I wanted than to have you there with me to replace the horrible memories that placed had stored for myself.

I was already in a bad place mentally, and Rochester put the final nail in the coffin. Emmett and I were staying at a remote cabin, and he had gone for a quick run. I had found a picture of us from Christmas of 2003, our first together, and I broke down. I wanted nothing more than to feel the warmth of tears rushing down my face, the tightness in my chest from the heartache, but nothing was going to happen. I-I wanted to feel something,” she sobbed. “I had found a gallon of gasoline in a shed and I doused myself in the liquid. My hands were shaking holding a lighter that had been a gift from my mother so many years ago. I could still feel the link between us, and I wanted to make it easier for you to have a life. If I was gone, both of our pains would stop. But Emmett came back before I could do anything. He pushed the lighter from my hands and threw me under a running shower to wash off the gasoline. I fought with him – I wanted everything to end for the both of us.”

“Angel…” (Y/N) whispered, placing a hand on Rosalie’s cheek.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). I-I just wanted…” Without a second thought, (Y/N) threw her hands around Rosalie’s neck and wrapped her in a tight hug. No matter the anger she was feeling towards the woman, she was still the most important person in her life. “I never wanted to hurt you like this. Seriously, I thought I was doing what was best for everyone.”

“I know you did, Rose. But the things you said to me – the way you left me – I was in pain for months. The only way I could repress everything was through work and magic. I spent seven months of agony, taking potions to be able to make it through day by day,” (Y/N) cried. “I can’t just let you back into my life and risk this heartache again, no matter how much I love you.”

“As much as it hurts, I understand. And I’ll be here however long you need to forgive me.”

(Y/N)’s head was spinning. On one hand, she wanted to forgive Rosalie for everything and resume their life in the way they had planned. On the other, she couldn’t excuse her actions without any consequence. She left the Cullen house clouded in ever more confusion with which she had arrived.

For the coming week, (Y/N) stayed holed up in her own home. Blocking out any contact from people around her. Sybil had come by, so had Jasper and Alice. Even Bella and Edward had tried to talk to the witch. (Y/N) understood why Rosalie had left, but something in her could not let go of the words she has spouted in a moment of heat.

It wasn’t until one day a loud knock rang through her door, and something inside her propelled her to open it.

“Emmett.” (Y/N) was surprised to see the tall man in her house – the last person she would have expected. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m sure you already know, (Y/N).” The woman moved aside and let the vampire come in, pointing to the couch so they could talk.

“What can I help you with?”

“Please forgive Rosie already,” he pleaded. “I love her, but she has been a lot more insufferable than she has ever been. She’s suffering a lot.”

“And I’m not?”

“That’s not…”

“I know. That’s not what you meant. And I would love to take her back. But what do I do with the things she said to me?” (Y/N) was getting tired of crying. How much longer could her eyes keep expelling tears? “I don’t fit into the image she dreams of her future. And I can’t have her pushing me away because I could have the life that she wanted. I don’t know how else to show her that I am not sacrificing anything for her. She is everything I have ever wanted in my life, and I don’t know if I am what she wants in for herself.”

“Rose had a perception of what her future had to be from her days as a human. The way she became a vampire was traumatizing enough, and she hasn’t been able to let go of that,” Emmett explained. “I have been Rosie’s best friend for seventy years and she hasn’t known real happiness until she met you. What she did came from a place of insecurity masked in what she thought was protection. Everything that has happened with Bella has struck a nerve in her because she still grieves that future she could’ve had as a human. But I know the love she feels for you goes beyond anything she feels. You guys are destined for each other.”

Emmett’s words tumbled in her head. Enough time had transpired in their absence, and it had brought the necessary clarity. Rosalie was her present, she was her future.

The man suggested she accompany him back to the Cullen house and finally put everything to rest. (Y/N) had accepted and drove back with him. He led her to Rosalie’s room, where the girl had not slept in but had not left either.

“Go ahead,” he whispered. “She’s waiting.”

(Y/N) smiled at him and opened the door slowly.

In the beautifully decorated room, Rosalie sat facing the window. The lights were off, the bed they had purchased for (Y/N) to rest when she visited was unmade, and dust had accumulated on the pieces of furniture that lived in the room. She looked like a statue, another piece of décor in the room.

“Angel,” (Y/N) whispered. She didn’t want to startle Rosalie, but it seemed that she hadn’t moved. “Angel, can you hear me?”

“(Y/N)?” Rosalie croaked out. “Are you really here?”

“Baby, your eyes. You haven’t fed?” Her hands reached out to Rosalie’s face, forcing the vampire to stare at her. Black orbs stared into hers. They looked lifeless and the soul of her lover had hidden.

“Are you really here?” She repeated.

“She’s been having hallucinations since she stopped feeding almost a month ago,” Emmett explained. “We’ve tried to feed her, but she just fights us off. The visions started a week ago.”

“Rose, darling, I’m really here.” (Y/N)’s thumbs caressed her cheeks, finding ways to show Rose she was real. “Baby, I need you to eat something. It’s not healthy.”

“You’re here!” Rosalie finally snapped out of it. She wrapped her arms around her wife and breathed her in. She had come back.

“I am, angel. But right now, you need to go feed before we can talk. Okay?”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“I’ll go with you, Rosie. Come on.”

(Y/N) sat on the bed after the pair zoomed out of the room. They both had suffered immensely, and that had been punishment enough. Seeing Rosalie like that, disoriented and miserable, shattered her. (Y/N) had promised her eternal happiness, and they had hurt each other. Enough time had elapsed in absence of the other.

“I’m glad to see you back here, (Y/N).” Her head shot up.

“Carlisle, hi.”

“These seven months have been a chaotic whirlwind, huh?”

“They really have. I’ve had enough chaos to last a lifetime. And it’s only just begun.”

“The unluckiness of being supernatural. Unfortunate cons of the trade,” he chuckled. “But I’m glad you’re finally ready to give her another chance. You two share a love unlike anything I have ever seen, and this separation has been torture for you both. No one deserves that heartache.”

“And I don’t wish this on anyone, not even my worst enemy. I’m just ready to leave this all behind and recover the life we were on track to have together.”

“You deserve it. I can’t tell you it will all be smooth sailing from now, but the love will be worth it.”

“Thank you, Carlisle. I just hope our love will be enough for Rosalie.”

“It is,” Rosalie spoke.

“I’ll leave you to talk,” Carlisle excused himself, gifting them both with a comforting smile.

“I am so sorry, (Y/N). For everything I have put you through these past months. You don’t deserve any of that. I’ve been reckless, I’ve selfish, I…”

(Y/N) crashed her lips onto Rosalie’s, quieting her dry sobs. Enough words had been said between them, actions were what they needed. The blonde deepened the kiss, circling (Y/N)’s body with her arms. Their hands roamed each other’s bodies, exploring the forms that had been unavailable for seven months. The pair needed to feel connected in all ways – emotionally, spiritually, physically.

“I have missed you so much, angel.” (Y/N) kissed the top of Rosalie’s head, rubbing circles on her naked back. “I might not be the person you saw a future with, but I am the person you deserve. I hope you know that I am not sacrificing anything by being with you. I have promised you once before – and I’ll continue to do it for as long as you need – my heart burns and will continue to burn only for you. You are my one and only future, baby. There’s no other life for me.”

“There’s nothing and no one that I want more than you. You are the silver lining to my life as a vampire – my reason for being,” Rosalie smiled. “I don’t want to ever make you feel the way I did. You deserve so much better than what I have been, but I will work every day to make it up to you and show you the love you have shown me. I have not known true love until I met you, and I never want to lose it again.”

“And you never will, angel. Not if I have a say in it.” (Y/N) reached for the bag she had brought with her, pulling out the familiar velvet box that had made the first appearance two years ago. “Now, please, don’t ever take this ring off again.”

“I never will.”

In the coming months, their relationship only grew stronger. As soon as she graduated high school, Rosalie spent all her time at (Y/N)’s house planning on the time she would move into the home. Even as they faced death fighting the Newborn army, their bond only deepened. No one had seen the blonde as happy as she had been since her return to Forks. Emmett used that happiness to tease the normally cold woman that made a 180 in her attitude every time (Y/N) was with them.

Bella and Edward’s wedding came next, a beautiful ceremony that Rosalie couldn’t help but be jealous of. A fit of jealousy that was only quieted when (Y/N) promised her that this wedding would pale in comparison to the wedding she would give her soon.

Everything seemed to be falling into place. Everyone seemed to be getting their happy ending. But what was life without a little bit of chaos?

The newlyweds came back from their honeymoon with the shock of the century. Bella had come back from Isle Esme pregnant with a hybrid baby that seemed to be sucking the life out of her. The whole family was divided on whether the girl should keep the baby that was ultimately going to be the end of Bella.

(Y/N) was stuck between a rock and a hard place. She did think the best chance for Bella’s survival would have been to get rid of the baby, but she was hellbent to keep it and she stood behind her choice – and Rosalie’s choice too. The blonde for the first time had taken a liking to the brown-haired girl after she chose her child against her own life. Rosalie had started living vicariously through Bella’s pregnancy and started caring for Bella because she cared for her child.

Then the baby came in the most gruesome way. Edward and Carlisle had done everything they could to help Bella – in a few days’ time they would know if their efforts had worked.

It was hard for (Y/N) to see the hopeful stare in Rosalie’s eyes as she held the baby in her arms. Her motherly instincts had kicked in and she felt very connected to the fast-growing baby. It hurt the witch knowing she would never get to give her wife the opportunity to be the “natural” mother that she had always dreamed of being. But all those feelings had to be pushed aside when Bella had finally woken up and they received notice that the Volturi were coming after Renesmee.

At the same time, (Y/N) was dealing with the fact that Sybil had fallen pregnant with twins four months back.

“Why didn’t you tell me anything, Syb? You’ve been going through this all alone for this long when you didn’t have to.”

“I just didn’t want to put pressure on you while you were going through everything with Rosalie. You had so much on your plate already.”

“Syb. You’re my family,” (Y/N) smiled. “I will always have space for you in my life. Now, you’re going to take your stuff out of that small apartment, and you’re going to move into my house where you’ll be very comfortable. Don’t ever doubt that you can come to me at any time.”

“Thank you, (Y/N). I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Do you know who the dad is?”

“No, he was just a guy I hooked up with in Port Angeles. I don’t even remember his name,” Sybil cried.

“It’s going to be okay, Syb. You’re not alone, alright?”

During the months while they prepared for the Volturi’s arrival, Rosalie and (Y/N) cared for Sybil in every way they could. The girl wanted for nothing and had made a home in the new house. Rosalie grew attached to the young witch and the babies she was growing in her womb. Even if she couldn’t be pregnant herself, she was glad that people near her were able to fulfill that dream.

There was a night where Rosalie and (Y/N) were watching a movie – the Volturi had come and gone, and their family had come out unscathed – when Sybil let out a deafening screech. In seconds, the pair was next to the girl who was clutching her stomach, standing over a pool of water. Rosalie quickly called Carlisle to meet them at the hospital. (Y/N) packed a quick hospital bag as Rose helped Sybil to the car.

Everything had been planned out.

The nursery was already done in the house, the car was equipped with the car seats, (Y/N) would accompany Sybil during the birth. And everything had been going to plan. Carlisle had advised them that twin pregnancies often times could result in premature labor, and they should have everything taken cared of before the seven-month mark.

What they had not prepared for what could happen after birth.

The first baby – a boy – came out naturally, being pushed out by a very tired Sybil. The second baby wasn’t as easy. Somewhere along the line, the baby had gotten wrapped in the umbilical cord, and they had to perform an emergency c-section on the girl. Thankfully, the baby girl was born perfectly healthy.

But something was happening with Sybil. The machine that was monitoring her heart started beeping frantically.

“What is going on, Carlisle?” (Y/N) asked scared.

“She’s losing too much blood right now. You might have to leave the room.”

“NO!” Sybil gripped (Y/N)’s hand. “She stays.”

“Alright, stand back then. Let’s save Ms. Morgan.”

As Carlisle and his team worked, Sybil pulled on (Y/N)’s hand to lower her. “I’m not making it out of this one, (Y/N).”

“Don’t say that, Syb. You’re gonna get through this and you’re gonna be the best mom to those beautiful babies. Okay?”

“I can feel it, darling. I need you to promise me that you’ll take care of them, please. You and Rosalie. And tell them about me. That’s all I ask, please? This I the way the universe wanted to grant your wishes. You get to have a family.”

“Don’t make me promise that, Syb. You have to survive this. You’re my family, hun.” (Y/N) wiped away the tears that had been forming on her friend’s eyes as well as hers.

“And I always will be with you. But I need you to promise me that, okay?” Sybil whimpered.

“I promise, darling,” (Y/N) pressed her forehead against Sybil’s, squeezing the hand she was holding. “I love you, Syb.”

“Love you mor…” Sybil’s words trickled down as the consistent beeping sounded. (Y/N) squeezed her eyes shut, allowing the tears to fall freely, and pressed a kiss to the now-departed witch’s forehead.

“I’ll see you in another life, my friend.”

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N)” Carlisle placed his hand on (Y/N)’s back. “You need to…”

“I know. Thank you for everything, Carlisle,” she smiled.

Outside the doors was Rosalie, ready with open arms to comfort her crying wife. (Y/N) crashed into Rosalie’s body and leaned into the hug. The crash was hard enough to have them both fall to the ground as (Y/N) wailed. The vampire drew circles on the witch’s back as she tried to console the woman in such a hard situation.

It was only after the cries had died down that Rosalie finally spoke up. “You should go see the babies. They’re beautiful! Would you like to?”

“Yes, please.” Rosalie helped her up and directed her wife to the hospital’s maternity ward. Wrapped in a blue blanket was the firstborn and wrapped in a pink one was the second born. There was no denying that the children had been born from Sybil. They looked identically to how she had when she was born. “They look just like her.”

“Would you like to come in?” A nurse that had assisted in the birth asked. The pair followed her inside and each grabbed a baby in their arms. (Y/N) held the boy and Rose held the girl. “Do you know what you’ll call them?”

“Morgan,” (Y/N) said looking at the baby in her arms.

“And Sybil,” Rosalie said. (Y/N) looked up and smiled at her wife. “(Y/L/N)-Hale.”

“Alright, I’ll draw the paperwork up.” The nurse left them alone as she went to get all the papers they would need to fill out.

“I know this was never the way you would ever intend to become a mother, but it seems like the universe wanted to grant us this wish,” (Y/N) smiled. Rosalie pressed her lips to (Y/N)’s forehead and smiled at the view in front of her – this is all she could have ever dreamed of. “So, what do you say, want to get married?”

“I’d love nothing more than to marry you once more in front of everyone. And now our kids can be a part of the most important day of all of our lives.”

Five months later the Cullen house was turned into a wedding venue once more.

Alice was more than excited to deck out the house even more than she had for Bella and Edward, at Rosalie’s request. As Rose had said, if Bella’s wedding had been a big and beautiful wedding, she wanted hers to be comparable to a royal wedding.

Bella was in charge of getting Morgan and Sybil ready, Rosalie was with Esme getting ready, and (Y/N) was with Alice preparing as well. (Y/N) was a ball of nerves knowing Rosalie was only a few doors down and she hadn’t seen her in two days.

“You already know the answer, (Y/N),” Alice laughed. “Remember that you’re already married.”

“I know, I just can’t believe everything is coming together. All that I have ever wished for has come true.” Tears started forming in the corner of (Y/N)’s eyes and Alice was quick to dry them out.

“Everything is working out as it was always supposed to,” Alice smiled at her sister-in-law. “But save your tears for later. I need to finish your makeup and get you down the aisle in thirty minutes.”

“Alright, alright,” (Y/N) chuckled allowing Alice to continue her masterpiece.

In twenty-five minutes, (Y/N) was done and dressed, with Alice pushing her to head downstairs. There was no doubt that Alice was the only one that could outdo herself with their wedding, but this was more than (Y/N) could have ever imagined. The backyard was truly unrecognizable. All the guests – mostly supernatural beings, and some humans that knew of the supernatural world – were already seated, waiting expectantly for the couple. At the start of the aisle waiting for Emmett to walk (Y/N) down since Carlisle was walking Rosalie.

“You look beautiful, (Y/N)!” Emmett beamed.

“Thank you, Emmett. You look very handsome yourself,” she smiled as Emmett showed his suit off.

“I’m so glad you’re both getting your perfectly happy ever after, you know?” He took (Y/N)’s hands in his, looking proudly into her eyes. “You both deserve all the happiness in the world and I’m glad you found it in each other. I knew this was end game.”

“You have been our biggest fan ever since we met,” she chuckled. “And I know one day you’ll find your perfect pair as well.”

“I’m not too worried. Kind of have forever, you know?”

“I do.”

Emmett took (Y/N)’s arm in his and walked her slowly at Alice’s cue. He left her with a kiss on the cheek and stood by her side on the left side of the wedding arch, holding her bouquet. After walked Alice accompanied by Jasper, Alice taking a side at the right and Jasper at the left; then came Esme and Edward, to the left and right respectively; finally, Bella walked in with Sybil in her arms, as the baby held the pillow with the new rings, and Renesmee holding Morgan and a basket of white rose petals to throw on the ground. Bella walked to the left and Renesme walked to the right. The wedding party was almost complete, they were all waiting on the last components to the perfect picture.

It didn’t take long until the purest vision of beauty was standing at the start of the trail, accompanied by the man that had been like her father for more than seventy years. (Y/N) couldn’t help the beads of water that formed on her eyes as soon as she saw Rosalie. Today was completely different than the day she had originally married Rosalie. That day something had been missing, and now they were all complete.

Rosalie started the walk down the aisle, and the smile she wore never faltered. She wished she had picked a faster song to be by her lover’s side quicker. Carlisle and Rosalie finally got to the altar and gave Rosalie and (Y/N) a kiss on the cheek, joining Esme’s side and handing Alice Rosalie’s bouquet.

Both women stared into each other’s eyes and completely forgot about Mr. Webber’s words as he officiated the wedding. It wasn’t until they had gotten to the reception, and it was time to say their toasts, that they were brought back to reality.

Rosalie went first.

“For most of my life, I had a vision in my head of what my life should be that seemed unachievable until I met (Y/N). How lucky am I to be able to spend the rest of my life with someone that knows even the darkest parts of me and loves me as unconditionally as she does? The moment I met her I knew that she was more than I ever deserved, and she has only propelled a change in me for the better. I used to have an idea of what love looked like, and for the longest time, I had fallen in love with the idea of it. It wasn’t until (Y/N) came into my life that I understood that the kind of love I had always dreamed of was real. She knew who I was before I ever had an inkling of what that was, and I’ll be forever grateful that she never gave up on me. So, I’d like to raise a toast to the woman who was, is, and forever will be the love of my life.”

Claps and cheers exploded in the room as the couple shared a kiss before it was (Y/N)’s turn.

“It’s gonna be hard to top that but I’ll try my best,” she chuckled. “I had been a traveler for many years; coming and going from people’s lives, making my memories there, and leaving. Never had I stayed long enough in a place to plant my roots, and I’m so thankful I never did. If I did, I would have never gotten the chance to meet the most amazing, smart, funny, beautiful woman I have ever had the chance to know. Somehow, today I’m lucky enough to call her my wife and the mother of our children. My mind, body, and soul burn only for her. And I promise, in front of everyone we know, that for as long as we both shall live, in this life and the next, you will be the only person my heart will sing for. Eternity will never be enough for the love I have for you.”

Rosalie only wished she could cry as she crashed her lips onto her wife once more. They had already declared their love for one another time and time again. But today their whole world got to witness the power of two bonded souls.

Permanent taglist: @winter-soldier-101 @zheezs14 @a-sifu-hotman

[eddisfargo]

Not a day will go by (9/?)

Hello my patient friends! Sorry for the wait! It won't be this long again (for real this time)! This is a Christmas fic for last year's Secret Santa, and I've given myself a deadline to finish it before this year's secret Santa. Specifically, I'm trying to finish before December 18, which is mine and @cosette141's birthday! Thanks so much to everyone who's still reading and leaving comments--they keep me going when my brain refuses to write! Thanks especially to @MotherKat for being the best beta EVER! I'm going all out in November, and I've actually already got Chapter 10 written!! So it won't be too long!

Tagging: @resident-of-storybrooke, @everything-person, @teamhook

AO3 Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7 Ch 8 Ch 9

Summary: He may not remember his present, but she doesn't know his past. If she did, she wouldn't have married him… right?

Let’s go home . 

She’d said it so simply, leading him back to the yellow machine, as if the concept of home was a given. A home they evidently shared. With a boy who he supposed was his… stepson. Because that had gone so well for him in the past. 

Home . 

The Jolly was his home. Perhaps he should start staying there, rather than in that house he didn’t remember. Should he suggest it? She’d probably be relieved. Or perhaps she’d worry that he’d simply sail away. Perhaps she’d be right. 

“Babe?” Her voice jolted Hook out of his thoughts, and he realized he’d hesitated outside the door of the building. 

He looked at her, working out how to phrase his intention to return to his ship without arousing her suspicions. “I don’t –” he began. 

She’d started talking at the same time, her face falling. “Sorry, I shouldn’t – Killian. Probably not Babe right now, right?” she laughed awkwardly. Truthfully, he hadn’t been called by his given name for so long that it felt more familiar than any pet name, but he elected not to correct her. Leaning against the wall, she let out a breath when he didn’t finish his thought. “Is something wrong?” 

Hook tried to find the words he’d come up with, but she looked so… tired. “Nothing,” he said finally. 

Emma looked at him for a long moment, searching. Hook had been prepared for the suspicion in her eyes. He hadn’t been prepared for what else he saw there. It was nothing he could easily name, but it made his lips go dry. Breaking eye contact, Hook started walking in what he hoped was the correct direction, if he’d oriented himself correctly – being instantly transported what seemed to be at least a mile was testing the limits of his sense of direction – but he had a feeling that this was the right way. To his relief, Emma began to walk beside him. 

They walked in an uncomfortable silence for a time, until Emma cleared her throat. “So… I guess we’re going to have to tell Henry.” 

Hook frowned. He’d thought he was doing alright at deceiving the boy. “Are we?” 

She looked at him like he was talking nonsense. Again. “It’s a little big to keep from him, right? And maybe… maybe he can help.” She smiled fondly. “This kind of thing is kind of right up his alley.” 

Hook opened his mouth to ask what exactly qualified under this kind of thing . But he couldn’t stop seeing the looks directed his way in that little room just now – the significant glances as certain things went unsaid. He… owns the local pawn shop . 

So he asked a different question. “What are you going to tell him?” 

She looked a bit pained. “ We are going to tell him the truth.” Shooting him a sidelong look, she added, “An… age appropriate version, if you don’t mind.” 

Ahh, after his slip-up, she’d lost any faith in his ability to regulate his mouth. That had been an error, but clearly she had no idea just how much he had managed to keep to himself. And that, of course, was how it would stay. To demonstrate, he only grunted his agreement. 

“And hey,” Emma added after a moment. “Maybe you’ll remember much you – how fond you are of the kid.” 

Hook grimaced. So it was true, his future self had been playing at fatherhood. And here he thought he’d learned from his mistakes. 

Suddenly, the woman beside him took his hand. 

“Hey,” she said, pausing in their walk. “What are you thinking?” 

He was thinking that trusting him with a child’s well being was ill-advised, but he wasn’t fool enough to say it, so he remained silent. It was only when she squeezed his hand that he realized that, almost of their own accord, his fingers had laced through hers. This betrayal by his own remaining limb shocked him into honesty. “That I’m not exactly stepfather material.” 

Her mouth opened in surprise. Fool , he chided himself. He removed his hand from hers and started walking again, faster. 

“Killian,” she said, arresting him. Facing away from her, he didn’t have to see her face. Instead, he saw another face. It had been so long since he’d indulged in this particular remembrance that the face in his mind seemed to have changed, attaining a marked resemblance to Emma’s boy. He felt a wave of grief he hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge for longer than he could recall. 

“Killian!” she said again. He turned to face her. “You’re a wonderful stepfather.” She radiated sincerity, but she didn’t know . She looked so bloody sympathetic . “I can see why you might… doubt this, but you’re actually a great role model.” She smiled mischievously at him. “Most of the time.” 

He felt the strange urge to reveal a part of his past that would doubtless make her question this strange opinion she seemed to have formed of his suitability. To unburden himself – no , to make her see why whatever perfect man she thought she’d married was a lie. Then perhaps she’d let him go. 

“There are things…” he said, keeping his voice steady with more effort than it usually took. “In my past… things you couldn’t possibly –” 

Incredibly, her face cleared. She reached out to touch his face, and he managed not to pull away. “Oh,” she said, as if she understood, although there was no way she could. “You’re thinking about Baelfire.” 

Hook froze.

Impossible.

“How…” he breathed. “How do you…” 

“Killian,” she said gently. “Do you really think I married you without knowing the significant events in your life?” 

He found himself unable to answer. How could he open his mouth and say yes, of course he thought that. Why would a woman like she seemed to be have married him otherwise? “I…” he managed to say, with effort. “I told you?” 

“You told me all of it, eventually,” she said. But she couldn’t possibly know what all of it entailed, not if she was looking at him with such… sympathy in her eyes. She bit her lip suddenly, taking his hand. “But some of it… I heard from Baelfire.” 

The words knocked him breathless for the second time in as many minutes. He was vaguely aware that he was being led into the relative privacy of a small alley behind a shop, but his thoughts were a jumble. 

“Baelfire?” he rasped. “You… you’ve met him? He survived?” Hook had always wondered what became of the boy after his escape. When he’d let himself think about it at all, he’d feared the worst, and laid the blame… where it belonged. The guilt hung heavy around his neck–guilt he allowed himself to feel for precious few of his crimes. 

She looked very sad, suddenly. “He survived Neverland, yes. He got out. But…” As Emma trailed off, closing her eyes, Hook could see the truth in her face. He started to ask something – anything – but found himself unable to speak. 

Emma took his hand and held it to her face, which he found strangely comforting. Softly, she continued. “He forgave you, you know. Before the end.” Hook shook his head, denying the possibility. “It’s true, you made up,” she continued, quietly but firmly. He tried his damndest to maintain his skepticism, but the sincerity in her eyes left no room for doubt. Still, he kept shaking his head, because it was all he could do. Baelfire . Milah’s boy. 

Somehow, without realizing she’d drawn towards him, he was in Emma’s arms, utterly disgracing himself. He had never shed a tear over Bae. He’d used the last of his tears up after Milah, he’d always believed. But perhaps the grief had always been there, just waiting for somewhere safe to be expressed. Safe . With this woman? This stranger ? She was probably repulsed by his show of weakness, in broad daylight behind a shop that sold shoes. 

He couldn’t bring himself to look at her, but as his senses filtered back, he could feel one of her hands rubbing his back, feel fingers running through his hair. Could hear soft words, gentle words, whispered in his ear. No one had ever… no one had ever tolerated such a display from him. Nor would he have given anyone the chance. Not since he was almost too small to remember… Not since he’d realized his father wasn’t coming back. 

Hook jerked up suddenly, mortified. What had possessed him to take leave of his senses that way? He had never, never let himself break down like that in front of another person–if he ever had at all. He couldn’t bear to look at her, to see the expression . A grimace, surely? No, somehow she didn’t seem the type. Pity, then. Any revulsion, she’d be kind enough to hide. Steeling himself, he straightened. With more reluctance than he’d like to think about, he pulled out of her arms, and finally looked her in the eye. 

And found he couldn’t look away. 

There were tears in her eyes too. Not pity, no. But sympathy. Even… understanding. Perhaps even… well. Something more. 

He cleared his throat. “I… apologize,” he said stiffly, “for–” 

“Hey,” Emma said softly. “You have nothing to apologize for, sweetheart. I should’ve realized you’d have to grieve him again.” She took his hand yet again. “But you know… in a way, he’s not really gone.” 

Hook frowned. “What way is that, precisely?”

“Well, Henry’s his son.” 

Hook staggered back. Just when he’d thought the earth-shattering revelations were done for the day. “He’s what?” At Emma’s small smile and nod, he shook his head, unable to process. “But how ?” 

“Hoo boy,” Emma said gravely. “I kind of thought at your age you’d have figured out the facts of life. Okay, so sometimes, when a man and a woman–” 

“I know bloody how! ” Hook said quickly. Did she really think–no, of course she didn’t. Her eyes were twinkling at him. Catching himself about to smile back, he frowned instead. “But he was… he was a child! ” 

“Umm, yeah. He was a child. Like twenty through two hundred years ago. The thing about not being in Neverland is… you grow up. By the time we met, even physically, he was older than me.” 

Hook tried to readjust some things in his head. Of course Baelfire was older than Emma–Bae had likely been older than anyone else alive, saving himself. And perhaps the Crocodile, if he somehow still walked the earth. But it still felt strange to think of him with a son . A son with… Hook’s wife? He put a hand to his head, trying to understand. Realizing he’d started to pace the alley, he used his nervous energy to resume their walk. 

Perhaps it was a lie? But no… he’d met the lad. The resemblance was there, now that he considered it. Gods, but he’d even mistaken the boy for Bae – for his father – at first glance. 

A sudden realization hit him. “Did I… steal you from him?” The thought of it bothered him more than he would’ve expected. It wasn’t as if he’d considered a married woman off limits, but breaking up the same boy’s family twice seemed rather bad form. Especially after everything else he was responsible for, where Baelfire was concerned. 

“No,” Emma said firmly, “you did not. We didn’t formally get together until after he was gone, but even before that… Neal and I weren’t together. There was a lot of baggage between us, and… it would never have worked out anyway.” 

Hook walked silently for a moment, trying to figure out what he’d missed. He’d heard that name recently… He finally placed the context in which he’d heard it, but that just created more questions... With a sigh, he finally asked. “Who’s Neal?” 

“Oh! Sorry! I meant Baelfire. Neal’s the name he went by when I knew him.” 

“Ahh,” he said. But no, that didn’t solve the puzzle. “And why was he… teething?” 

There was a moment in which Emma looked as confused as he felt, before she burst out laughing. 

“Okay, that’s a different Neal. The little munchkin my parents were holding? Baelfire’s namesake.” 

It took him a moment to connect those particular dots, the unfamiliar word “munchkin” not particularly helping, but it was clear enough what she was telling him. Evidently his wife’s first husband was beloved enough by her family that they named their son after him. That was a lot to live up to.

Not, of course – he reminded himself – that he was going to try. He was going to get on his ship and sail away. Leave this town that did nothing but confuse him. Leave this woman who kept looking at him in that infuriating way, as if she understood him. As if he mattered to her. She didn’t know him. Regardless of what shameful secrets she apparently knew, had apparently forgiven him for. 

She’d be fine if he left. He was beginning to think she might cry for a while, but… He walked faster, as if to escape the idea. Beside him, Emma sped up, staying by his side. She gave him a warm smile as they reached the door to their house. Hook started. He hadn’t even been thinking about where he’d been going, but he hadn’t been following Emma, either. Once again, his feet had led him straight here. 

The word home entered his mind, unbidden. Shivering, he walked inside. 

[creativeashproductions]

Proceed With Caution // Evan Buckley

IN WHICH: The reader doesn’t expect to become involved in a hostage situation with her fiance’s older sister, the older sister’s best friend and the best friend’s date from hell. With the addition of a SWAT member, how will the taking of dispatch change?

Warnings: Swearing, blood, threats, angst, guns, hostage/kidnapping

Words: 5.9k

A/N: Recently got into the tv show 9-1-1 and completely fell in love with Buck so here I am writing for him as well. This takes place during the season three episode ‘The Taking of Dispatch 9-1-1’. Reader and Buck are already in an established relationship.

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Masterlist

The apartment was quiet as the sound of your keys clattered in the bowl on the countertop. It was pretty early in the morning, so you had no doubts that Buck would be just waking up. On his days off, he would use the first day to catch up on sleep; based on prior times, he would be up in half an hour.

“Buck?” You called out from the kitchen. You heard a groan from the loft where Buck was in the process of waking up, “I forgot to drop off that book Maddie wants to borrow. When I get back, do you want to get breakfast?”

A grumble you somehow translated to approval was what you received in response. You jogged up the stairs to the loft to grab the book from your bookshelf. Buck’s bare leg stretched out from underneath the comforter on your side. The soft sighs Buck made in his sleepy state tugged at your heart; the sighs grew louder when you bent to kiss his head.

“See you in a bit.” You whispered to the sleepy soft male. He sleepily grinned in response before curling into your pillow.

The sound of your footsteps softened on the steps back to the main level of the apartment. Your keys snagged from the bowl before you gently closed the door behind you. The sun was gorgeous to be awake to see and had Buck not worked a long shift, you’d have adored watching it with him.

Your car pulled out of the parking spot in the Los Angeles Service Center’s direction that Maddie worked at. Your lips quirked as the radio spewed out the station that Christopher listened to in the car. You could even pick up the book in the backseat where he called his spot. The book could be found in Buck’s Jeep as well.

It had maybe three days since you’d seen the young Diaz, and damn did you miss the kid. Christopher has his enigmatic quality that demanded you love him for all that made him simply Christopher. The second you’d met him, you knew he would mean a lot to you.

You hummed in time with the song that was currently Christopher’s absolute favourite. Slowly you went from humming to singing along when the light turned green. A handful of songs came and went on the admittedly long drive due to traffic.

It was about forty minutes after leaving your apartment that you parked next to Maddie’s car in the parking lot. Lucy was sitting at the front office with a grin you matched. The woman buzzed you before she clocked out with her reprieve Jake.

“Hey, Sue!” You grinned at the older redhead. Sue had absolutely no problem seeing you, given that you were welcome in the building.

Sue’s first interaction was when you came to the centre to pick up Maddie when she came to work sick. Maddie had managed to keep it under wraps for an hour before Sue caught on. Ever since, Sue was fond of asking Maddie about her brother and you.

“Maddie’s not in just yet.” Sue spoke with a kind smile, “If you’ll excuse me, I have to meet with one of our sit alongs.”

You nodded towards her while beelining for the woman’s bathroom, hoping to catch Maddie after using it. You’d drank too much water on your run earlier this morning. Whether it was fortunate or unfortunate in the time you’d entered the bathroom, several things happened. Lucy ended her shift, Jake started his shift, and a group of strangers entered the building.

Your hand went to push open the door when through the crack, you saw two men you’d never seen before. Years of your job gave you enough feeling to know that something wasn’t right. That being said, you eased the door closed and attempted to find a hiding spot.

The garbage was too narrow and had no lid. The few seconds you had left, you glanced up. The ceiling hadn’t been renovated in many years. Rectangular sheets could be raised. Thankful of the rock climbing lessons you’d done with Maddie, you managed to crawl into the ceiling just as the two men entered.

“Nobody’s here.” The one-man with his head as pale and shiny as a cue ball. He gave off the most creepy vibe; the shorter Hispanic man wasn’t as violent looking, “Kinda hoping someone tries something. I’ve wanted to try out this.”

The man waved the large gun in his hand with a sick smile that twisted your stomach. That was the moment you’d realized something was very wrong. The second they left, you gently dropped back on the ground. Your first instinct was to send a message to Athena, but there was a fatal flaw. You’d expected to be in and out of the building quickly, so you’d left your phone in the car.

“Fuck.” You swore. One hand roughly running over your forehead as you contemplated figuring out a plan.

The building had many cameras throughout that you knew the blindspots for. The year after high school and during the summers, you’d worked in the building. Despite having worked here when you were younger, it was never during Sue’s shift. Over the years, you’d come to know the blind spots and a few cameras that were decoys. You even remembered Maddie and her friend Josh complaining about three cameras not fixed yet.

“Think.” You breathed, making a pattern of pacing, “They’ll need a lookout. They’ll take out the security guard first. The front doors are out. It’s a team, so they’ll also need eyes on the building. Terry is definitely a hostage.”

Of course, you’d end up in a volatile situation during the first half of your day before your shift started. The only comforting thing about the situation was the holstered gun on your hip and the badge on your belt. Maybe you should backtrack to why you had a gun and badge; you were an LAPD member, specifically SWAT.

“The changeroom.” You breathed, recalling it was down the hall with no camera. All you needed to do was pretend to be a dispatcher. The changeroom, now mostly a file room, had a few extra maroon and blue uniform shirts.

You timed it. The man holding Sue’s tablet was in the process of talking with his cohort, so you dashed to the room. You took no time in changing into a loose maroon shirt with your thick sweater overtop to hide the gun in the small of your back.

Your holster, badge and personal shirt tucked in the bottom of a box for safekeeping. As soon as you saw your entry, you sat with the group of hostages a hall over. A few looked surprised but let it go when you raised one finger to your lips.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Maddie hissed from the other side of a startled Josh. Both of them were surprised at seeing you here, “Oh my god. Buck is going to kill me.”

“I was dropping off your book before I get breakfast with Buck, but it appears my small bladder saved my life.” You snarked with your eyes scanning the room, “What’s going on?”

“That is my date from hell, Greg.” Josh inconspicuously pointed towards the man, clearly giving orders. The anger flared inside you, “You need to get out.”

“Josh, no offence, but I’m an officer with the LAPD. I work with SWAT. I’m your best bet of making it out alive.” You informed the dispatch duo, who went still as Cue Ball patrolled the hallway with a sadistic glint in his eyes.

“They took control of the building for a reason we don’t know about. We’re still working but under strict monitoring. They said it will be an hour, but we’ve seen their faces.”

“No witnesses.” You finished for Maddie with a deep sigh, “Unfortunately I left my phone in the car. Did they take yours-”

“They took Linda’s EpiPen. Of course, we don’t have phones.” Maddie sighed, leaning back to rest her head against the wall. Not even having a SWAT member by her side was comforting; your badge put a more significant target on you.

“We have to warn someone.” Josh mumbled to both Maddie and you, “You’re on shift Y/N?”

“Not for a few hours. I was supposed to drop off the book and get breakfast with Buck before my shift. This was supposed to be five minutes tops, so I left my phone in my car.”

“I already did.” Maddie spoke with a sad look on her face that overtook the fear, “I just hope he gets the message.”

Your hand reached out to squeeze the woman you’d had a hand in raising Buck more than their parents. Maddie had become family when you first started dating Buck. The in-law part of her familial relationship to you never crossed your minds; you were simply sisters to each other.

“Who?”

“Chim. I told him I loved him.” Maddie finished with a teary gaze. It made you sick seeing that look again after Doug.

You remembered seeing that haunted look when she stumbled out of the thicker woods covered in blood. You’d stayed by Athena’s side when Buck clutched her so tight and sobbed with her. It had been before you’d become serious with the man, but it was that frightening day that Buck fell for you. You’d just finished a taxing shift with your team when you heard about Maddie was missing, and Chim was in the hospital. You’d ignored the exhaustion to search high and low through your work contacts before narrowing the search area.

“Good thing Chimney obsesses over the little things.” You spoke, slouching down against the wall, “We’ll get throu-”

“Don’t do anything stupid.” Maddie warned you with her brows furrowed together, and you saw what she was doing. Despite your years of experience and the gun you had, she pushed her fear down behind the concern that a big sister shows her young siblings.

“I won’t.”

At 8am, Buck was just entering the apartment building from grabbing the mail addressed to both you and him when Chim had called.

“Yup, go for Buck.” Buck spoke, opening the door to the apartment he’d only temporarily left. His morning had been late after his long shift the night before. The most productive thing was dressing for his breakfast date with you and grabbing the mail.

“How come 9-1-1 doesn’t respond when I call?” Chimney questioned the younger, now confused male.

“Uh, is that some kind of riddle? Like who watches the watchmen?” Buck asked, closing the door behind him. His eyes scanned around for any indication you’d returned home, but the bowl was vacant of your keys.

“Neither of those things are riddles. Okay, I just tried calling 9-1-1, and I got the high call volume message. Did I miss an earthquake or something?”

“Nope, pretty chill morning.” Buck responded as he closed the fridge door with a bottle of water in hand. The entire conversation wasn’t concerning to him, given that Chimney was often like this.

“Where’s Y/N? She’s the police she’ll know-”

“She’s not home right now. Wait, why are you calling 9-1-1? Is everything okay?” Buck slowly asked with his brows coming together. The sigh of frustration from Chimney was answer enough.

“Your sister said that she loved me.”

“Yeah. Wasn’t that uh, the whole point in that big date you had last night?” Buck inquired on his way to the table. He had a feeling this was going to be a long conversation that would hopefully pass the time until you got home.

“You declare your love, and she declares hers? That’s how it went with Y/N and me.”

“Yeah, I know, okay, but she didn’t, all right? At least not last night. Look, she made this big deal saying that she couldn’t say those words, and then this morning, she blurts them out and hangs up on me.” Chimney speaks, pacing in his own apartment. The side by the side of Chimney and Buck’s separate apartments told different tales of their states.

“It’s still not quite sounding like an emergency.”

“’Cause I sound insane.” Chimney spoke, staring up at the ceiling with a battle in his mind. He wants Buck to talk him out of this, but he also wants Buck to agree with him, “She’s at the call centre. What could happen there? You know what, forget it, I’ll try Y/N again.”

“Again?” Buck questioned just as his co-worker ended the call. Buck tugged his phone away from his ear to stare at it confused.

You always answered the phone if you weren’t working at the moment, but given you still had hours, he found it unsettling. After seeing the news report with the ladder truck on top of him, calls weren’t ignored between you two. That feeling of concern grew when you didn’t answer his call either. Nor the second one.

“Nah, she’s probably talking with Maddie.” Buck spoke, but that second-guessing feeling didn’t dissipate. 

In the call centre, you’d been marched to one of the stations with a deep hope that you’d remember everything. It had been years by then since you’d worked as a dispatcher. It didn’t help with the gunmen patrolling the room.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” You calmly questioned the caller.

“Hi, my cat is up the tree by my house. Could you send someone?”

“Can I get your name?” You went through the motions of getting her name and address before you informed the woman, “Okay, the LAFD and LAPD no longer respond to calls of cats in trees. The cat will make its way down on its own. If the tree is in your backyard, I’d use the time to garden or read a book on this beautiful day.”

“Oh, thank you. I’m sorry for taking up your time.”

“It’s no problem. Having a wonderful day Susan.”

In no time at all, you’d been rotated into the board room away from Josh and Maddie. It gave you time to inspect everyone you hadn’t made contact with yet. No one appeared harmed other than in distress with the situation.

“Downtown. They don’t want anyone downtown.” Linda whispered as Maddie was guided onto the floor by the elbow. You’d only gathered her name from her near-silent introduction to you when the hired guns had been far from your area.

“Let’s go.” Greg snapped, roughly pushing you towards the conference room. Something deep in your gut already predicted that someone was going to be stupid.

It was your sharp eyesight catching the minuscule agitation in Greg’s interactions with the Cue Ball guy. The slight tightening of his grip on the gun, the tension in the room growing stifling. And everyone knows that when emotions run high stupid things happen.

“Why do they keep moving us around like this?” The man beside Maddie questioned. He was definitely the most shaken of the group. He was basically shaking like a chihuahua.

“To disorient us.” Maddie spoke, staring at the group monitoring the dispatchers currently in play. Her eyes refused to leave them.

“So, we can’t make a plan.” You finished for your sister-in-law. Objectively out of everyone, Maddie, Sue and you were the most collected individuals for various reasons.

Maddie had lived in a volatile house with a man that could be unpredictable if a situation called for it in his mind. Sue had been working in the centre for years to navigate the emergency while you walked into dangerous situations.

“Jamal.” The shaking man spoke, holding his hand out towards you, “Are you new?”

“No.” You spoke as you shook his hand, “I’m Y/N. Maddie’s sister-in-law. I’m filling in as a favour for Sue.”

The lie slipped off your lips a little too quickly. You decided to come to this hostage situation as if you were undercover. It meant having to ignore that Maddie was in the situation with you.  

“Worst day for a favour.” Jamal snorted with his eyes pinned on one of the armed men holding all your lives in their hands. You’d have spoken, but Jamal checked out mentally from the conversation waiting for the other shoe to drop.

The shoe dropped when the IT Specialist announced numbly, “Jake’s dead. They shot him.”

It didn’t matter how long you’d been working for the LAPD, any death, whether it was a civilian or a criminal, it was still was startling. Jake, the security guard that alternated shifts with Lucy, wasn’t someone you spoke with. He was on shift when you weren’t here or just missed the shift change.

“We need to get a message out.” Jamal spoke, glancing at the only people in the right state of mind, and those were Maddie, Josh and you. Terry had seen the violence these men had no issues with.

“I did.” Josh breathed, thinking of the arguably cute security guard he sometimes liked to stare at, “A woman called about onions in an omelette. I dispatched an officer.”

“To the restaurant?” Maddie inquired with her pinkie connected with yours for comfort. Both of you would prefer your SO’s hand instead.

“Not exactly.” Josh replied, staring at his best friend with a glimpse of hope in his brown eyes.

Hope may be the only way you could get out of this without hurting anyone in your admittedly surface level plan.

“Buck will think something is up.” You added 

Buck had begun pacing the kitchen of the apartment with Chim adamantly telling his friend his plan to go to the centre. Buck had joined Chimney in the concerned department when you had failed to return to the apartment, return calls and to make matters worse, so was Maddie. His texts had gone unanswered as well, not even having the read receipt on.

“She’s not picking up either. I tried Y/N and Josh, but neither replied. When I tried Maddie and Josh, it went straight to voicemail.”

“Now, I’m definitely going.” Chimney announced, shoving his wallet into his pocket just as someone began knocking on his door.

“What if something is wrong? I know Y/N is a member of SWAT but radio silence? No text to let me know she was called in early?” Buck thought aloud with his finger dragging along his thigh, “Maybe we should call the police.”

“I...think someone already did.” Chimney informed Buck as he stared at the sudden appearance of Sergeant Athena Grant at his door.

“What? What do you mean?” Buck hastily questioned, leaning against the kitchen island. He could just faintly hear Athena speaking on Chimney’s end of the phone, “Chimney? What’s going on?”

“Athena was sent to my apartment. Hang on, Buck, I’m just gonna tell Athena what’s going on.”

Buck stepped away from the island to settle on the stairs to the loft, impatiently waiting for Chimney to finish speaking. That fear of losing pieces of his life expanded deep in his gut, just like the times Maddie left in his childhood. That fear of being left behind.

“What’s she’s saying now?”

“She’s making her case.” Chim whispered as he continued to eavesdrop on Athena’s call with her higher-ups, “Now she’s folding like a cheap suit.”

“All right, let me talk to Athena.” Buck demanded antsy to figure out the situation that clearly had something wrong. That fear he’d thought of early flared catching the tail end of Athena’s conversation, “No! No, no. We can’t just send in SWAT. If there is someone inside the call centre doing something, they’ll know we’re onto them.”

Unfortunately, Buck was correct in this thought process, all thanks to living with a SWAT member. He knew these things after the years he’d been with you.

“Maddie? I think I can sneak up to Terry’s computer. Maybe get eyes on the place-”

“No!” Terry nearly shouted, stiffening when Cue Ball hesitated in the doorway at his sudden shouts. You all held your breath for his reaction, but thankfully he was called away by one of the men, “They have-”

“Terry, I need you to calm down. I’m familiar with these types of situations. I’m SWAT. I need to get on top of this. Don’t be a hero.”

Maddie’s head began to shake when your arm was roughly grabbed by Greg, “Your turn.”

You were separated from Josh and Maddie, but instead of being pushed into one of the dispatcher seats, you were pulled to the original hallway.

“I don’t like how friendly you are with them.” Greg spat, shoving you to rest against the wall, “Don’t move.” 

You catch the eyes of Maddie with an apologetic expression before you used the pacing routine to sneak away. You didn’t release your breath until you were attaching your holder to your hip in the change room. By now, your team would be aware that something was wrong, Hondo would be hell-bent on finding you.

Until you had help, you were on your own.

You used each blindspot of the cameras in the halls to the stairwell, and you used a broom to adjust the cameras. The cameras not kept you from view but not appearing suspicious. Once at the floor where Terry was practically always at you softly closed the door. 

You’d only started to sit down when you heard the ding of the elevator, “Shit.”

You slipped into the closest containing extra parts if anything broke. Through the crack, you saw Terry being held at gunpoint. The gunman that had been holding the tablet on the floor, Ellis as you’d heard.

“You’re telling me every cop in the city has just disappeared?” Ellis demanded as Terry, and he disappeared around one of the corners. The tapping of a screen indicating Ellis was searching for something with Terry’s involuntary help.

“I’m telling you, I don’t know!” Terry snapped back, creating even more tension in the room, but Ellis didn’t move to grab his gun.

Ellis appeared to the only one reluctant to discharge your weapon, unlike Cue Ball, who just happened to join the party.

“Figure it out!” Ellis spat, turning on his heel at the sound of approaching footsteps. You could see him roll his eyes at his team member walking into the room.

“What’s going on here?” Cue ball questioned the duo in different kinds of distress, and you swore Cue Ball enjoyed the intimidation from his teammate and the IT specialist.

“That police car’s not the only one that’s gone dark.” Ellis nervously spoke, stiffening for the volatile reaction that one could expect from Foster.

“You think they know we’re here?” 

“Foster, it could be a system glitch.” Ellis offered keeping one eye on Cue Ball while monitoring Terry’s work as well.

Cue Ball spoke a sentence that sent chills up your spine, “Time to cut our losses.”

As Foster and Ellis began going over their personal plans made out of Greg’s knowledge, you noticed Terry glance over. His eyes widened slightly before quickly looking away when you raised a finger across your lips.

“We can go down the back stairs. I have a car waiting around the corner, we split the art up between the five of us, and we go our separate ways.” Foster spoke, revealing his plan to double-cross Greg, which in all honesty made sense. Greg was ill-fitting to be in charge of their operation, unable to control his lackeys.

“I like that part of the deal.” Ellis breathed, skirting around the trigger happy criminal only to halt in his steps, “Wait, you’ve got a car parked down the street? You were always gonna double-cross Greg.”

“You weren’t?”

“If we’re gonna do this, you can’t just sell famous works of art on eBay.”

“You can’t sell them from prison either.”

At that moment, something almost shifted in the area, something that made you pull your gun from your holster. Your body telling you something was about to happen. It happened in a split second. Foster fled the room leaving only Ellis just outside. With Terry frantically shaking his head, you tiptoed to the unsuspecting criminal.

“LAPD!” You shouted, pointing your gun towards the shocked man, “Put the gun down and put your hands up.”

“Aren’t you a dispatcher?” Ellis questioned, blinking in surprise.

“Aren’t you supposed to be intelligent? Next time check the schedule I haven’t worked here in years.” You spat, keeping your gun pointed on him, “Do I say-”

The sound of two guns going off made Terry flinch and scream as he instinctively dropped to the ground. IT was supposed to be safe, but Terry had now heard three gunshots in under two hours. He really didn’t want to see the outcome of the shots.

A moan coaxed Terry to peek out through the privacy glass. Ellis was on the ground while you kept your gun on him. He didn’t see anything else when the power went out. He didn’t see you drop to your knees, but he heard you.

“Terry...get down. Lay on your stomach with your hands insight, and don’t move.” You informed the terrified IT just as the floor was swarmed.

“Put the gun down!” The sound of Tan’s voice was welcoming as you slowly placed the gun on the ground. “25-David I have Y/L/N. The suspect is down, need medical.”

You got back to your feet when Tan nodded his head, “Thank god. There’s a possible body in the IT room along with the It Specialist Terry.”

“You got your badge on you?” Tan questioned as he cuffed the moaning Ellis up, “Street can you escort her down?”

Street nodded from his position, watching Tan’s back before guiding you to the stairs with hawk eyes. Even off duty, you kept your head on a swivel.

“You caused quite the commotion.” Street spoke halfway down the stairs when you barely mumbled. He caught you as you went down like a sack of potatoes, “Y/N!”

“Adrenaline is crashing.” You moaned, looking at your shoulder where the maroon had grown darker, “I think he shot me.”

“26-David I’m in the stairway. Prepare a medic.” Street spoke into his radio before he strapped the gun away and swept you into his arms, “Think you can have my back?”

“When don’t I?” You wheezed, with the sweat starting to bead on your forehead. As you crashed from adrenaline, you barely noticed being placed on the ground at the main entrance.

A paramedic cutting your borrowed shirt to reveal the bullet hole in your shoulder courtesy of Ellis, the only member who’d thought wouldn’t shoot his gun. You could vaguely hear Maddie calling out your name as you were loaded onto a gurney.

“M-Maddie?” You spoke, tilting your head to see Chris holding Maddie back from, “Chris! That’s my sister in law.”

Chris only let Maddie go when Hondo gave the all-clear, and you were so thankful when Maddie’s hand encased yours.

“Don’t close your eyes.” Maddie pleaded sick with the amount of blood on your skin and soaking through the gauze, “Who’s gonna help me put up with my little brother?”

“Buck.” You breathed sluggishly, blinking as the artificial lights changed to natural with the gun shining through the glass front doors.

“You didn’t let me close mine in that ambulance, so I need you to do the same. Don’t close them. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.” Maddie cried as an officer pulled her aside as you were stopped. You wouldn’t remember it, but Maddie had to watch as you coded right in front of her.

Maddie had to watch them perform CPR on you and fight for a pulse. She had to think of how’d she’d tell her little brother she’d killed his fiance. The counting of the paramedics sounded as if underwater, and as they did, the world went quiet. Her mind checked out as the trauma settled in.

Maddie stumbled out of the building into a zoo of officers, medics, and news reporters almost robotically. She barely felt Chimney hug her, but she wrapped her arms around him and sobbed.

“It’s all my fault.” Maddie gasped, collapsing against him, “If I had-”

“Maddie?”

Chimney felt Maddie stiffen at the sound of Buck’s voice amidst the multiple voices milling around. Maddie raised her gaze to meet Buck’s blue eyes dripping in relief and question.

“Buck.”

“Maddie, where’s Y/N? Her car…” Buck trailed off, catching the utter heartbreak in his big sister’s eyes. A look he’d come to know in his line of work as a firefighter. The utter devastation that came with watching someone you love die, “No. No.”

“I got a pulse!” Came from the nearest ambulance, and Buck skirted around his sister and Chimney, “Ready to transport!” 

Your eyes slowly blinked at the white ceiling of the ambulance with pain in your midsection courtesy of chest compressions. Breathing came painful, and the bullet wound throbbed, but it all faded when you saw blue eyes above you.

“Buck.” You sobbed, more like groaned, as he was urged to sit on the bench holding your hand, “Maddie?”

“She’s okay. Chim’s got her. Can you keep your eyes on me? I need to see those big beautiful e/c eyes.” Buck soothed, bringing your hand to his lips, “Did I ever tell you my favourite colour?”

Despite Buck’s best attempts, you continued fading in and out of consciousness but continued to be stable. He spoke about the funny video Eddie had shown him of Christopher at the end of their shift last night. He talked about everything and anything under the sun during the short ride to the hospital.

The last thing you saw was Buck being held back as the paramedics pushed the gurney into the ER. Everything turned black.

The beeping was the first thing you heard before your eyes fluttered open to a stark white room and that unmistakable hospital scent. You noticed the second thing as Buck holding your hand in both of his with his forehead pressed against them.

“Buck?” You moaned to the one person you had wished to see. The man whose eyes were bloodshot from crying, “What’s wrong?”

“Your heart stopped beating twice. I thought I was gonna lose you.” Buck cried with his lips pressed against your hand, “I was so worried.”

“Hey. I’m fine. I’m here.” You cooed, tugging one hand away to run through his messy hair with a soft smile. His blue eyes brighten at the familiar feeling of your digits in his hair, “I’m not going anywhere. This isn’t here for decoration.”

His eyes found the ring he’d gently placed back on your finger from when the nurses had removed it. It only left your finger when you were on duty, in which it was slung on a necklace hidden under your uniform.

“Better not be.”

“Does the hospital have a chapel?” You questioned out of the blue leading to Buck snorting as you giggled, “I’m serious. When I was bleeding in that building, all I could think about was you. If Maddie is anything like you, she’s waiting in the waiting room with Chimney.”

“You aren’t wrong. All the chairs are taken. Our family was waiting for you to wake up.” Buck breathed, leaning closer to press a sweet kiss to your lips, “Are you sure?”

“About marrying you?” You softly questioned the man who couldn’t help but believe this was a dream. How he’d somehow got the girl of his dreams to agree to marry his ass, “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. All I want to share is your last name for the rest of my life. You are it for me, Evan Buckley. All the flaws you see are beautiful to me.”

“Only you would want to get married after being shot mere hours ago.” Buck chuckled with a sigh pulled from his pink lips, “I’ll get the doctor for you and find out if we can be married here.”

While you were checked out, Buck left the room to go back to the waiting room where the 118 and your co-workers waited. Everyone perked up at his appearance, Christopher asleep on Eddie’s lap.

“Is she okay?” Bobby questioned as the tension in the room grew more and more. It shattered into relief when Buck grinned.

“She’s sore as expected. She’s gonna catch some sleep, but she’d like to see Maddie.” Buck replied, pinning his gaze on his big sister with her curled into Chimney’s body. Her cheeks flooded with tears of absolute relief, “C’mon.”

The waiting room started emptying with Buck’s promise to keep everyone updated, but before Bobby could step away, Buck asked for him.

“Do you need a few days off?” Bobby questioned just as Buck came closer to the seasoned firefighter.

“No. But could you spare an hour?” The expression on Buck’s face was enough for Bobby not to ask any further questions. He simply followed Buck back towards your hospital room, where Maddie and Chim waited.

“What’s going on?” Bobby inquired, with the addition of the hospital assigned Priest holding the standard bible. Chimney could only shrug in response to whatever was going on.

“I know there have been times we haven’t seen eye to eye, but Bobby, you’re like a father to me. You gave me chance after chance when anyone else would have given up. You guided me on how to be a man. Y/N and I would like it if you’d be here for this.”

“Wait, are you getting married? What about the wedding?” Maddie spluttered, flicking her gaze between her brother and you. Her question surprised her boyfriend and Bobby.

“We’ll still have it. But I want to marry her without the pressure of our parents. Just a private ceremony with some of the people that mean the most to us.” Buck answered for the two of you, “Would you stay?”

“Of course.” Maddie softly spoke with a slideshow of memories playing in her mind of watching Buck grow up.

Watching Evan go through all kinds of injuries, all in the name of attention but never getting it the way he deserved it. She remembered giving him advice for asking out Donna and holding him when he was rejected. The little toddler with the impish grin somehow turned into an idiot in the hospital.

Maddie saw the man her little brother had turned into with the help of the 118 and you.

Buck’s fingers made quick work of buttoning his short-sleeve uniform with the sudden appearance of his friend.

“That’s new.” Eddie spoke from his opened locker holding his uniform and a picture of his family on the door. It was a picture of Christopher, Buck, you and Eddie from the zoo a couple months back.

Buck looked over at his best friend, “Hm?”

“The ring.” Eddie snorted dramatically, looking at the ring that had been living on his finger since he married you five days ago, “Did my invite get lost in the mail?”

“Nah, we just got married in the hospital. We’re still planning the wedding to appease both sides of our family. And I promised Christopher he could be in the wedding. With Y/N on medical leave, the planning will be faster. She’s going stir crazy after five days.” Buck finished tucking in the shirt into his work-issued pants. Lastly, he slid his ring onto the metal chain he had bought recently.

Like you did, he would wear it around his neck when working for safety reasons.

“I’m happy for you, man.” Eddie told his friend just as the bell rang, “You’ll have to tell me how you’re liking the married life.”

“But first, we have a job to do.” Buck supplied all the while jogging to suit up in his turnout gear with Hen and Chimney.

[becomingbts]

Time heals (sometimes) - 1

Summary: 6 years ago, (Y/N) thought that she was finally taking her life into her hands, leaving behind a toxic and abusive relationship with a man who taught her she’d never be worthy of love. However, it became hard to ignore his words when she met her seven soulmates who rejected her without even giving her a chance to prove herself. It took (Y/N) 3 years to realize that it wouldn’t be her end. She would live on to prove them all wrong; she would become what they all thought she wasn’t: someone worthy of love. And as she stands proudly on the stage, under the  burning spotlights and the applause and  the cries of the delirious crowd, she feels alive. Alive, just like the bond she believed to be broken.

Pairings: Y/N x OT7

GENRE: Soulmate AU!, Idol Y/NAU!, semi social-media AU!, ANGST (mainly), fluff, romance, maybe smut in the series.

Ask or comment to be tagged!

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Warnings:  The series is going to be heavy with a lot of personal experiences  mixed into the fiction, so this is going to be kind of therapeutic for me. Please, consider not reading the series if you are not comfortable with: abandonment issues, anxiety, panic attacks, depression, self-harm (not descriptive and only part of MC’s past), suicide thoughts (in the past), toxic behavior, toxic and abusive relationship (in the past), depreciating self-talk and low self-esteem, a lot of curse, physical and mental pain, near death experience situation (in the past), and maybe smut scenes (happy ending though, but it will probably be quite the ride).

NOTE: So hello everyone, welcome to Time Heals (sometimes). Thank you so, so much for the warm welcoming, it has been my first time getting so many asks, I was honestly overjoyed. I still don’t really know what to call this part; is it a teaser? A note? A full chapter? I believe we’ll get some snapshot of memories like this one throughout the series because there is going to be a lot to unpack on both sides. I think it will be a chapter nevertheless because I have to establish some kind of order as to which parts should be read first, and I think this one is extremely important.

Thank you for reading,

-Dolly

Profiles #2 - here - part 2

Her scream pierced through the air while cries broke in the frenzied arena while a single blond-haired man froze, emptily staring at the stage. It felt like his senses heightened; his skin was shuddering, his eyes were frantically searching for one specific figure while his voice was lost in his throat. The screams resonating in the stadium would have been too loud for his voice to be heard anyway. 

Jimin knew he shouldn’t be there. 

Namjoon had told them more than once that none of them should try to go to one of (Y/N)’s events. It could be dangerous and they could be overwhelmed; anything could happen to them and they would still remain a nobody who fainted in the howling crowd. Would they want to take this risk? No.

So, Jimin would have had to admit that going to her very first concert in Seoul since the pandemic sounded like a very, very, very bad idea. And to be honest, it still didn’t seem to be a bright idea now that he was actually there. 

But he still went because he needed to see her for himself; to see how she was. He had so many things he dreamed about asking her. Are you okay? Are you sleeping well? Did you eat before coming to the arena? Are you nervous? Do you... remember me? 

Maybe he was torturing himself. He kept on watching her lives, following her on all social media, always made sure to leave a sweet comment, and never miss any of her new updates... Maybe he even had a folder of pictures of her on his phone but he’d never admit it to any of his mates. Taehyung would probably take his phone away from him and delete everything and Jimin couldn’t let that happen.

He felt like it was cheating. Don’t take him wrong though. When he thought that, he was not really thinking about the boys. They did collectively agree not to follow her activities as an artist but it was getting harder and harder with how popular she got anyway. Moon was everywhere. In commercials, on the radio, her songs were on the TV… Even if she was known for refusing most of the promotional contracts that were offered to her, her image was still constantly in the media despite her avoidance of it. Ironic, but the media were trying their best to find anything about her, be it positive or negative. One day she was seen on her bike, the next, she was in a coffee shop, and it kept on going on, overstepping on her privacy as if it was just a meaningless word. 

The lockdown had admittedly played a major part in Jimin’s obsession. Being in their apartment meant quickly running out of activities, and his job as a dance teacher was not really filling his free time (a lot of his classes were also canceled). It was also during that time that (Y/N) truly blew up as an independent artist. Advertisement on YouTube started being around her channel and her music, the recommendations he kept on seeing were about also her… Jimin’s resolve honestly broke easily. It was hard not to be curious about his lost soulmate even though he didn’t feel like he had the right to be hurting. 

Anyway, to come back to his main point, if Jimin felt like he was cheating; it was mostly for her. After all, (Y/N) had no means of letting the curiosity get the best of her, to know what they were doing; to simply see or contact them. He had, at first, not really thought about that. Watching her content seemed a very innocent thing to do in his opinion; billions of people were watching her content, why should he prevent himself from doing so? Yet, Jimin could still remember one of her live she did soon after that interview she had given on this damned radio show where she had revealed who her title track ‘TIME’ was about… She had gone live the next day-Jimin had jumped on his phone because of the notification-and one fan had asked her what would she do if she knew that her ‘ex-soulmates’ (and those words left a very sour taste in Jimin’s mind) were watching her. The question had silenced a previously restless Jimin, replacing his initial excitation with dread while a lump formed itself in his throat. He had not even noticed it; he was so focused on her live and her upcoming answer that Jimin had completely missed the sound of a glass breaking in the apartment. Jimin had been home alone, so even if had indeed heard it, he probably wouldn’t have bothered to check what had happened, thinking that the wind knocked it over or something. Jimin had been so absorbed by what he had been watching that he even got surprised a few hours later when Seokjin came home and yelled at him for breaking something when he had been clearly innocent, engrossed in (Y/N)’s live (not that he could tell his soulmates about that part, but yeah). (Y/N)’s live would always be more important than some random glass breaking again in their apartment. Every object was doomed with Namjoon living here anyway.

On her side of the screen though, (Y/N) had seemed taken aback as she had read the question and had gritted her teeth gently. She had seemed to be pondering about her answer even though a lot of people in her chat were telling her to forget about the question if it made her uncomfortable (a lot were even scolding the person who asked). Yet, sighing softly, she had looked up at the screen: 

“I’d appreciate it if you could refrain from asking questions on this topic. It’s not taboo but I’d rather not remember everything that comes with it. However, to answer this-hopefully-last question about it, I’d ask them to turn off my stream and to stop watching any of my content. It would only be fair after all. I’ve been denied access to their lives six years ago, why would they get a free pass into mine now?” She had not smiled nor had she seemed hurt by her own comment, yet Jimin’s heart had shattered in pieces, unable to press the cancel button. 

Her voice had slowly faded into background noise while her words had been stuck in his head. 

I’d ask them to turn off my stream and to stop watching any of my content. 

How could Jimin ever do that? He realized that he truly should. Namjoon would even agree with you, as ironic as it sounded for Jimin. Namjoon had been one of the most adamant ones about rejecting your bond, after all. Jimin was shaking with bitterness while ‘Moon’ continued her stream peacefully with music. Jimin could only try to gulp his anger down as he remembered her crumbling features on that fateful day. 

“You’re not our soulmates. This name on our arms means nothing to us. You are nothing to us if not a hindrance. Leave us alone.” 

If Jimin could go back in time, he’d prevent Taehyung from spatting those words at her. Yet, he couldn’t do anything. Playing the scene over and over in his mind wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t change that she probably hated them. It wouldn’t change the song she made about them. 

And worst of all, it wouldn’t change the fact that Jimin had let himself believe that their choice had been for the best, trying to console and reassure himself, even if he had already known that it was wrong. Tears were pooling up in his eyes even if none escaped as he finally caught a glimpse of her on the stage. Suddenly brought back to reality after his subconscious memory trip, Jimin finally connected back to the world, looking around while he was still frozen on his spot. People were still screaming around him and he wondered if he looked like an intruder. Because, after all, wasn’t that what he exactly was? She said it herself that she didn’t wish for them to watch her; so what was he doing here? 

Jimin couldn’t help but stare; she looked ethereal, dressed like a queen in the middle of a sold-out arena. People were screaming her name as she yelled her infamous ‘hi people’. It was an opening sentence that Jimin heard way too many times in her vlogs and suddenly hearing it in real life seemed surreal. 

Jimin could only watch in awe, entranced with her everything. 

Screw the boys and what they would think once he’d be back from her concert. 

He had been the one to find her six years ago anyway. He had been the one to bring her to their home six years ago, hoping for the boys to change their mind once they’d meet her.

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Uploaded : 09/04/2021

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[ecliptsukki]

his delinquent phase ❧ kaoru sakurayashiki // cherry blossom

navigation | music

➣ genre: fluff

➣ warnings: adam’s existence 

➣ request: can i request a one shot where you’re cherrys s/o and like childhood best friends with joe and cherry and adam and you’re gushing over cherrys old bad boy look with piercings and everuthing and cherry one day goes to S with his piercings and hair the same way as before just to see you fawn over him skjfks

➣ a/n: this took me three times to type up because the first two times i did it, tumblr thought it would be funny to delete it. i’m not sure if i love how this came out, but it’s still better than my original plan. hopefully this was correct to what the anon requested. enjoy!

ps: i’m also going to be going on a trip for four days tomorrow, so i’m not sure if i’ll be able to post. i’ll definitely try to start working on my other requests!

You had known Joe, Cherry, and Adam ever since the four of you were in high school. Out of the three, you had met Joe, first, not soon before you met Cherry.

You were walking down the eventful streets of Okinawa, admiring the sights and getting accustomed with the area. You had moved to the city not too long ago and already were growing attached to the place. In your defense, the city was your perfect and desired location to live in. 

A gentle breeze blew through your hair, rustling the leaves of the green trees. You sighed at the feeling of the cool breeze tickling your warm skin. Not long after that breeze had gone, another, harsher breeze blew past you. You flinched at the abnormally sharp wind, snapping your head to the side, in its direction. You were met with honey red eyes and short, green locks, swaying. 

The male slips past you, stopping abruptly.

“Sorry about that,” he smiled, embarrassed, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You were in awe, seeing what the boy was standing on, and on alert because you had always been taught to be cautious around strangers, especially when you were walking alone. 

“Um, no. I’m alright, just shocked,” you shrugged, replying quietly.

Another harsh, but gentler than before, wind blows past you, revealing a pink-haired male. He had three piercings on his ear and one on his lip. Half of the boy’s face was hidden by his long bangs, allowing your focus to lock on his golden eye.

“Watch where you’re going,” he snaps at his green-haired friend. “Sorry about him,” he apologizes, giving you a polite smile.

All the sirens were going off in your head.

He has so many piercings! Is he a delinquent? Are both of them delinquents? If they are, I can’t fight them off on my own. What do I do?

“I’m Kaoru,” the bubblegum-haired male suddenly said, “This is Kojiro.”

Kojiro nodded at you, an embarrassed blush still grazing his cheeks. 

“Hey, aren’t you the new kid?” Kaoru asked, finding your puzzlingly familiar.

“Oh, that’s why I felt like I’ve met you before,” Kojiro spoke up, nodding his head when he realized who you were.

Awkwardly, you shyly respond, “Sorry, I can’t seem to remember seeing you guys at school. Are you in my class?”

Until dusk, the three of you talked, getting to know the each of you better. You were also able to befriend the boys you were so afraid of, becoming your first two friends in the city.

You met Adam in the dark of night, beside Cherry and Joe.

They had brought you along, one night, wanting to skate with you. You already knew the basics of skating, nothing more, nothing less. Therefore, as your closest, and only, friends, they wanted to get further acquainted with you in something they loved. 

“Who’s the sweet cheeks?” His hoodie-covered eyes left an eerie pressure on you, causing goosebumps to emerge from your skin.

“This is our close friend, Y/N L/N,” Cherry spoke up.

“She goes to school with us, and we wanted to bring her skating. Mind her tagging along?” Joe asks his hooded friend.

“Not at all, just as long as she can keep up,” he spoke in a cocky tone.

The pretentious attitude the unnamed face had was irking you in the wrong way. He seemed too mysterious for your liking. A third of the boy’s face was hidden in the shadow of his hoodie, leaving you only able to see the blue tips of his hair and his structured nose. 

He must’ve noticed your timid stare because he looks at you, under his hood, “Call me Adam.”

 Cherry and Joe look at you expectingly.

“Just call me sweet cheeks, for now,” you reply, distantly, not ready to let your guard down just yet.

You hear your two friends sigh, chuckling to each other.

“Don’t worry, she’ll warm up to you, soon,” Cherry told Adam, “We know firsthand how she is with meeting new people.”

You blush, remembering your first encounter with the pair.

Thinking back, you still regret letting your walls down and accepting Adam as a friend. Not a day goes by that Adam doesn’t linger in your mind, as much as you’d hate to admit. 

You despise that man with a passion. From your first interaction, you should’ve known that there was something off about the blue-haired male, but pondering on these frustrations now wouldn’t change anything. As much as you’d like to curse the man for hurting your friends’ and your feelings, you knew you had to move on.

You sat on the soft mattress of your shared bed, scrolling through old pictures stored on your phone. You saw pictures taken by Kaoru when you guys went on dates. Majority of the photos were candid, seeing as he always had told you that you were the “most photogenic woman” he had ever met.

You remember the day he had told you that. You also remember your laughed reply.

“Then you’ve got the whole world to explore, my love.”

Although, honestly, you thought Kaoru was quite the photogenic one himself. His gorgeous, sorted, pink hair matched with his golden eyes and perfect face never looked bad, not even at the crack of dawn or in the late of night. 

Speaking of which, you scrolled upon a photograph of Kaoru sitting all pretty with his piercings on display. Those piercings brought back many memories, humorous and lustful.

Ironically, the thing that brought you fear before now brings you yearning.

Honestly, once you had befriended Kaoru and came to trust him, the piercings no longer frightened you but instead, fascinated you. Those metal hoops further increased your attraction to the ponytailed man, leading you to the relationship you were in now.

Obviously, Kojiro played a big role in setting the two of you up together because both of you were completely oblivious to the other’s feelings. It got to the point that Adam almost had to step in and wack some sense into the both of you.

Anyways, ever since Kaoru had started working in the calligraphy business, he removed his piercings to maintain a professional image. You detested the idea, but you also knew that it was the best for his business. 

Now that you were looking back at photos of Kaoru as a teenager, you began to crave seeing him in those metal rings once more. You missed the “bad boy” look your boyfriend used to have, not that you didn’t appreciate how he looked now. It’s just that there’s a different vibe to his current and past aesthetics.

As you stalked through more pictures of teenage Kaoru, you were unaware of the very man you were thinking about watching you. He noticed the longing and craving in your gaze. Then, he caught a glimpse of what was being projected on your screen: it was him but in his teenage years. 

Suddenly, everything clicked for Kaoru, and he had the perfect plan in mind.

Something was off. Usually your boyfriend would insist on bringing you to “S” himself but not today. If anything, he was urging you to go with Kojiro.

“He’s been your friend for the same amount of time as I. You should take this time to your advantage and catch up,” was Kaoru’s excuse.

First of all, catch up on what? It’s not like you haven’t talked to Kojiro in months. Actually, you talked to him a day ago, at “S.” Secondly, what’s up with the sudden lenience and weak excuses?

Joe, who was also in on the plan, tried to help his friend out, making a feeble attempt to lure you with free food.

“I can get free food from you whenever I want,” you replied, squinting suspiciously at your friend.

“Not with that attitude, you can’t.” That pulled a raised brow from you and a regret-filled face from the muscular man.

Though you weren’t fully convinced that nothing was off, you still left with Joe, caving into their terrible attempts of covering up whatever they were hiding from you.

You had arrived at “S” with Joe for about ten minutes now, but there was still no sightings of your beloved, Cherry. Joe caught glimpse of your searching eyes and reassured you that he would be coming, be it later than usual.

Reki, Langa, and Miya had made their way over to you, sparking up a conversation with you, making you forget about the missing presence of a specific male. 

Miya was explaining the new training regiment and diet he was to use in order to advance his strength, leading you to worry for the small teenager. If he didn’t eat enough, it could become fatal to him. You didn’t understand why a child was being treated so harshly by his managers, forcing him to eat barely anything and train long hours of the day. 

You were concernedly asking Miya if he was feeling alright and offered him an energy bar you carried around in case of emergencies, which he gratefully accepted, when you heard the cheers of fangirls behind you. Knowing they weren’t meant for Joe, you turned around to meet the golden eyes you’d fallen in love with.

This time, there was something different. His face wasn’t hidden by his mask. You could see the pale skin of his cheeks and the pink of his lips. Besides the absence of the black cloth, you noticed metallic rings decorating your boyfriend’s lip and ears. Also, his hair wasn’t whipping behind him, as per usual, but laid low, drifting in the wind.

For a hot moment, you had thought you had finally lost it, but when you blinked your eyes, looking at Miya then back to Cherry, you realized you were still sane and your boyfriend still looked like he aged back into his high school days.

“Is that Cherry?” Miya asked from beside you.

You nodded, speechless.

You heard someone let out a loud laugh beside you, “Since when did he have piercings?”

Ignoring the redhead’s outburst, you were mesmerized by the Cherry you had been obsessing over a couple days ago. It felt like one extravagant dream that you didn’t want to wake up from. In your defense, as he stepped of his skateboard, coming to embrace you, he looked straight out of a fantasy. His skin was practically glowing, and his hair gently floated perfectly onto his shoulders.

“Hello, darling,” he spoke in a sultry voice, placing a soft kiss to your forehead as he held you in his muscular arms.

“K-Kao—” you quickly realize your soon-to-be mistake and fix it, “Cherry.”

His eyes shrink as he laughs, endearingly, admiring the flustered and confused look you were portraying.

“Is this why you and Joe were being so weird earlier today?” You asked, cheek pressed against his slim, toned chest.

“Indeed, my love. What do you think? Definitely brings back some memories of the old days,” he lifts your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes.

“I love it. It’s perfect. You’re perfect,” you smile brightly, eyes lustrous. Pushing yourself up on your toes, you whisper into his ear, “You also look really hot.” You quickly pull away, turning a vibrant red.

“I think you broke her,” Joe told his friend, placing a heavy hand on the pink-nette’s shoulder.

After the supposed one occurrence surprise, you began to avidly ask him to wear his piercings, loving how attractive and domineering he looked in them. If he denied, you would ask him to, at least, tie his hair in the relaxed half up half down hairdo. He didn’t mind the different hairstyle as much as he did the piercings so it became a normal look for him. The only times he would willingly put on his piercings were when he was going to “S” or when the two of you were safe in the comfort of your own home, for research purposes.

[bookwyrminspiration]

I was looking through your masterpost--specifically the side-character analysis--for research purposes, since you have been dubbed the God of Canon (/lh) and I know it hasn't been updated in a bit.

However, searching through your tags I haven't seen any specific post about Edaline. She's not integral to the plot, and isn't really as interesting as Grady, but I feel she deserves some love nonetheless.

So, Quil, how do you feel about Edaline Ruewen, and her overall arc in the series? /gen

Ah yes, God of Canon, a totally normal thing to be called. Though just a quick heads up you can actually see when I've last updated the masterposts because it's written on my pinned post! It had been updated just a few days before you sent this, though I still don't have anything about Edaline.

I hold an incredible amount of love for Edaline Ruewen. She's wonderful and deserves more attention than she gets in the series. Similar to Grady, she's also learned to cope with an incredible amount of grief and learned from her past and from her actions.

(I'll save your dashes with a cut now !!)

She went through such a tremendous change, going from nervous to have Sophie in her life and fixated on her lost daughter, to an open and loving person who can acknowledge the impact Jolie's death has had on her but knows that she's more useful and happier when she's active in her life and fighting for what she believes in. Her wallowing doesn't do Jolie any good, but her supporting Sophie and being active in her life and not rejecting all the Black Swan stuff works toward what Jolie wanted.

I think one of the most clear examples of her change is in Exile, when she decides to finally let go of Jolie's old room and convert it into something productive. She saw how Della clung to every piece of Alden like it would bring him back, and it allowed her to reflect on her own reactions and how she held on to pieces of Jolie, how it wasn't helping her process her grief and move forward. She had plans to have it done in like a week or something, I don't remember exactly how long but it was quick! And this is all coming from the person just one book ago who slept in Jolie's room for comfort. Everything went from entirely untouched to let go of, and that's a tremendous change. It wasn't even spurred on by someone else reaching out to her in concern, this was her own personal reflection brought on by grief in someone else's life. That's an impressive amount of self awareness, control, and understanding towards herself.

She's so incredibly kind, and I think it's because she knows how cruel the world can be. Remember those times she slept in bed with Sophie? The world has taken so much from her, it'd be understandable if she reacted with rage and hurt and pushed people away--and she did push people away for a while, and she'll probably never be as social as she was before, but she instead responded with kindness. She cares for the people in her life and allows herself to love and be loved by them. The empathy she has is wonderful, and it allows her to stand up for what she believes. The people in her life give her strength, and she gives them some in return. I love that about her. She pays attention--like when Sophie asked for slumberberry tea but Edaline brought another option just in case because she knows Sophie. Little things like that are so important

One of the other things I always think of when Edaline is brought up is her attitude towards the love triangle. She's so sweet and open about it and wants the best for Sophie, and trusts Sophie to make the right decisions for her. Grady's more protective and has opinions about what will be best for her (coming from a good place), but Edaline has that support from a distance thing down. She thinks its cute, is there for Sophie to answer questions and support her when things don't go well, and I love that kind of approach!! Grady's protectiveness is entertaining at times, but not necessarily something I'd want to experience. Edaline on the other hand, while she can be a little embarrassing (affectionate) at times, feels like an approach you'd be comfortable with in real life.

So my overall opinion of her and her arc is that I'm extremely impressed with how she's dealt with her situation and the awareness she exercises.

She's fun and teasing at times, but to get through what she has requires incredible strength emotionally and mentally. She may not look like the kind of person who could ride a dinosaur, but she is and she takes that confidence into everything she does now. Jolie's death will always hurt, but it won't stop her from living and fighting for her family and for what she believes in.

[impaladolan]

Home Alone - Grayson Dolan

summary: after a long week of work, y/n needs some sort of relaxation and relief. although, her outlook on relieving her frustrations isn’t what grayson had in mind...

warnings: tid bit fluffy, swearing, vibrator use, & smut

a/n: been in my unfinished drafts for a bit..

"Are you sure you don't want to tag along, baby?" Grayson longingly questioned, his brows crinkled and his lips almost forming a pout.

"I haven't been able to do laundry all week. God knows it won't get done unless I do it now." Y/N chuckles, balancing a full basket of freshly dried clothes on her hip, watching her lover wrap his fist around the front door's handle.

Every other weekend, at the Dolan residences, the two brothers, and sometimes their wives, would gather with some of their friends and watch their favorite football teams. And later on, they'd play board games or watch some movies. Normally, Y/N would be the one begging Grayson to hurry up and get ready to attend the biweekly event, except this time.

Y/N has different plans...

It had been a brutal week at work, her boss was currently taking out her "divorce emotions" on her employees and Y/N was getting the rougher end of it. She was relieved when it was finally the weekend and she could stress clean, calm her nerves in some sort of self efficient way and relax after a tough couple days.

She hadn't even had the thought of a sexual release, until she had dreamt multiple naughty scenarios just last night during her deep slumber. She couldn't exactly pinpoint what all she had dreamed, but she remembers waking up with a dripping arousal and a sore ache at her very center. And though her husband was laid right next to her, perfectly capable of satisfying her womanly needs, she decided using other resources would be a better fit.

Don't get her wrong, she loves being pleasured by the only man who knows exactly how to, but she felt embarrassed. She didn't want to come across as a sex-crazed women to Grayson, even though it would never make a difference to him.

They're married, for goodness sake.

"I can stay back and help out. We could even have our own little movie night if you wanted," He began, releasing his hand from the door and taking a few steps toward Y/N, whose lips turned into a cheesy smile as he drew closer to her.

"Just you and me," He took the basket filled with clothes from her hip and set it on the floor, intertwining his large hands with her smaller ones, eliciting a short laugh from Y/N. He brought her closer to his frontside, creating a ballroom dance-like formation and began shuffling around with her in his arms. Like an old married couple, they slowly danced around the room, him twirling her in his grasp while Y/N admirably gazed upon him.

Her cheeks were rosy with admiration, finding his little act of affection adorable. "You get easily distracted, huh?" Y/N grinned, resting her chin happily on his shoulder, his minuscule beard hairs tickling certain parts of her neck.

"Well, you looked too pretty over here by yourself," He softly explained against her ear. "And I wanted to dance around a room with a beautiful woman like you. So, I am." He lowered his hands beneath her and slew her into a romantic dip, planting a sweet kiss upon her lips. She returned one back, feeling her heart grow two sizes larger, much like the Grinch movie portrays, if anything.

"Grayson, I know how much you enjoy football, especially with the boys," She was only making excuses, but he had tempted her to just cuddle on the couch all day and watch plethoras of movies and munch on various snacks. But the low rattle in the depths her core was motioning her in a different way, and she just couldn't survive the rest of the day without fixing her little problem.

"Hmm, you're right. But when I get back, we're ordering take out and watching movies. Got it?" He chuckles, bringing the both of them back up into a standing position.

"M'hm, be safe." Y/N smiles, planting another kiss on her lover's lips before leaving his warmth. She waved goodbye to him as he left their abode, sweetly grinning as she went back to finishing up the laundry before the real reason she was staying home, would begin.

Though the couple's intimate relations seemed innocent and loving, they each had a different side to them, specifically in the bedroom.

The two never shied away from new experiences and would most certainly dabble into different areas of the "sex world," if you will. They, of course, had their preferences and different kinks, but Y/N seemed to be more open and freeing for that sort of stuff.

For the different occasions that they felt a bit more lustful and yearning for one another, they kept a locked trunk of knickknacks in their closet. You see, that's the one Grayson knows about, but Y/N keeps a smaller one, filled to the brim with all of her own toys, in a section of her closet that he never really pays attention to. If he had any idea that she kept self-pleasuring items for her own uses, he'd be absolutely ballistic.

Thankfully, he doesn't...

The moment Y/N threw the last bits of dirty laundry left, into the washer, she practically sprinted to their shared bedroom. After rummaging through the trunk filled with "accessories," she found a nice, pretty pink vibrator to do the trick, as well as a black silk blindfold to shield her own eyes. She was already rid of her clothes and sprawled across the wide bed in an instance, tying the piece of cloth over her eyes. 

Though, unbeknownst to Y/N, Grayson was already on his way back home. As soon as he had pulled into his brother's driveway, they had called to cancel— a certain emergency about something Grayson didn't really pay attention to listen to. He was thrilled that he didn't have to leave Y/N at home, all by herself to do chores all day. And luckily, their houses weren't too far apart from each other, so Grayson was back home within fifteen minutes of leaving it.

He didn't feel the need to text Y/N, she was probably busy anyway and possibly wouldn't respond. He figured she would hear the garage door open and expect that he was already home.

Little does he know...

As soon as he was parked and out of his vehicle, Grayson was trudging down stairs to the laundry room, in search of Y/N. He was surprised that she wasn't there, but he figured she might just be folding on the couch, trying to get ahead on one of the TV series the two were drawn into.

Grayson chuckles as he makes his way back upstairs, though his brows curtly furrow, his ears almost perking at the muffled sounds coming from the hallway.

Their shared room, to be precise.

With a pondering look upon his face, he kicks off his shoes and makes his way towards his bedroom, quietly twisting the door handle and pushing it inward. He opens the door wide enough to secretly look inside, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness that enveloped the entire expanse. The noises he had heard only seconds ago were more prominent, and his eyes had fallen on the object creating the aroused sounds;

Y/N.

She was laid out on their bed, legs wide open and shaking while her hands were constantly pressuring a fucking sex toy against her soaked pussy. Grayson froze, pure anger washing over him and turning his face a turbulent shade of red, washing away his pleasant mood. He almost stormed in there, ready to rip the stupid machine away from her hands and show her what a real orgasm feels like.

But he somehow contained himself, and instead, watched the scene play out in front of his very own eyes, vexation spilling from his entire countenance.

Y/N didn't hear the garage door open and close, or even the beep of Grayson's truck when he locked it.  She hadn't even heard his feet stomping up and down the stairs, or his lingering chuckles. She was so caught up in how she was feeling.

The artificial vibrations that buzzed upon her core made the world around her so euphoric and heavenly. She'd brush the toy upon her clit, forcing her entire body shake with deep pleasure and a soft moan to emit from her mouth. It felt so nice, and she was so close to the brink of releasing.

She was already feeling better, and naughty. If Grayson were to find her this way, masturbating  freely in the open and satisfying herself, she would never live to see another day. But she didn't care at this point, she just wanted to finally cum.

And she was extremely close.

Her hips began to buckle, while her backside rose from the bed and her free hand twisted at the sheets beneath her. "Mm- just a little more—" Her entire core was pulsating, so fucking close to just letting go.

So close..

"Don't fucking cum yet, slut." Grayson's voice boomed throughout the room, making Y/N's movements freeze in terror and shock. Before she could think of some sort of explanation or reasoning as to what she's doing, her blindfold is ripped from her eyes, while the vibrator that was once nuzzled up on her pussy, was taken away as well. Now, she felt so empty and wanting, edged to an almost release.

"Jesus- You're fucking dripping, for fucksake." His tone was harsh, and Y/N felt like crying. She held onto her tears as she watched him examine the drenched vibrator, still buzzing in his hands. Out of the loss of contact, she began to whine, squeezing her thighs together to create at least a little bit of friction.

"Grayson, please—" She began to huff, but her shuttering voice was interrupted by the aggravated man pacing in front of her.

"I don't think I fucking asked you to talk, did I?" He glared at her, though just the sight of Y/N's exposed body made him shudder with a tinge of want.

Against his wishes, Y/N continued her whines, her breathing still ragged and finally her own hand traveling down to her soaked heat. She didn't care if she'd be in more trouble, she just needed to unravel the knot inside her, whether she'd pay for that mistake later or if not.

She didn't get far, because Grayson caught her wrist before it made it all the way down to her center, and brought it up to the headboard. He wrapped a leather strip around both of her wrists, mumbling incoherent spews of anger, doing the same with her ankles against the bedposts.

"I-I, I thought you were gonna watch football.." She began, but a low growl sounded from Grayson, and the blindfold was placed back over her eyes, while a different type of cloth was shoved in her mouth. Y/N feels the numbing slap across her thigh before hearing the connection's sound, an exasperated scream muffling out of her filled mouth.

"I'd stop talking if I were you. Unless you want to be choked by Daddy’s fucking cock, darling." His voice rattled her insides, and she dared not to make another sound, already dug far too deep in a hole anyway. "Get ready princess, m'gonna edge the fuck out of you. Maybe then, you'll remember to ask me for permission to use your fucking toys." His voice soon faded from her ears as a higher vibration than before was nudged right up against her swollen clit, making her figure convulse in imploding pleasure.

It took an entire hour for Grayson to edge Y/N twelve fucking times. She was a mess, sweat droplets dotting her hairline while her pussy remained in slippery shambles. He didn't say a word, and Y/N held her tongue from shouting profanities after the several losses of contact. She hadn't came yet, but if she didn't soon— she would find a way to get out of her restraints and finish off what she had started herself.

It had been several minutes since Grayson had pulled her to the brink of an orgasm, and she was starting to think that he'd never come back. She had heard the sound of a zipper earlier, and she couldn't tell if he was doing something to ease his own pain while she laid there, so high strung and breathless. She was about to call out his name, but the warmth of his tongue wrapped around her bundle of nerves and she let out an exasperated sigh, pulling on the cuffs tied around her wrists.

He slipped his tongue in skillful motions, his hands pushing up underneath her thighs as he lapped up her liquids. Y/N was so sensitive to touch, anything that remotely stroked her could heighten her arousal and make her lust for more.

Within seconds, her hips were shaking and her back arched above the mattress, her toes curling under the pressure. And his voice finally sang the heavenly words she had been waiting for the entire time;

"Cum, princess."

Y/N released all over his lips, a high-pitched scream sounding from her mouth as she finally unravels, her legs bucking against their restraints. She spits out the cloth from her mouth and heavily breathes, murmuring praises to the man between her legs.

"I'm sorry, Grayson."

a/n: did this completely suck? i haven’t really written in third person in awhile, so i need honest opinions..

[cafeacademia]

Love Between the Pages | Chapter 1

Blaise Zabini x Reader

Part summary: When Blaise is forced to attend the book club for a month for being caught up in Draco's bullying of the club, he finally has a chance to get to know the girl he likes, only now he's afraid that she's intimidated by him.

Warnings: Some bullying, Draco being Draco, mostly soft fluff though, lots of shyness

Word count: Approx 2000

Navigation

A/N: Hi loves!! Here's the first part to my first Blaise series!! I hope you all enjoy! If you'd like to be tagged, please click the link on my navigation post which is linked above!! Flash backs indicated with ***

“Detention!”

It was shouted harshly, at the top of her voice, shrill and full of rage as the three Slytherins stood in front of her, each looking decidedly guilty in their own ways. Draco stood up straighter, defiantly crossing his arms as he began to make the whole situation worse by arguing with Madam Pince. “You’re not even a real teacher, you can’t give us detention. My father will hear about this.” But while Draco went on and Theo attempted to appear like he was vaguely threatening next to his best friend, Blaise slowly blocked out the entire exchange, his eyes fixed on someone else, sitting on the other end of the library.

“That’s enough, Mister Malfoy, I will hear no more of this.” Madam Pince shouted. “You’ll all attend the book club as your punishment.” She asserted. “Book club?” He scoffed, “It’s hardly that bad.” “For a month.” Madam Pince interrupted him, making Draco and Theo look at her as if she’d grown an extra appendage. “A month?” Draco glowered, seething with anger.

But all while this was going on, Blaise had barely paid attention. He’d heard what she had said of course, but he was too distracted by a little Ravenclaw, sitting at the other end of the library. “Do you hear this, Zabini?” Draco asked, nudging his friend, the Slytherin boy quietly nodding and attempting to seem undistracted.

Why had Draco dragged him into this mess in the first place? All Blaise had been interested in was the pretty Ravenclaw he saw so often between the library bookshelves and somehow he’d been pulled into something so utterly stupid.

***

“What are you doing?” Draco asked, snatching the book out of Blaise’s hand. “Isn’t it obvious?” Blaise asked, raising a brow in annoyance as he took the book back from Draco and carefully pressed it against his chest. “You’re reading muggle novels.” “And?” “It’s for the mudbloods and blood traitors.” Draco spat. “And that’s why you’re not a Ravenclaw.” Blaise rolled his eyes. “You think this stuff is good?” Draco sounded genuinely confused. “They seem to.” Blaise nodded his head up towards the group that sat around a table, enjoying books together.

Draco glanced over at the group and while he didn’t know who they were, Blaise did. He’d seen you with your little book club in the library every week, but more specifically, he’d seen you in the library nearly every single day. If you weren’t studying, you were reading and enjoying a good book and judging by the books he had seen you with, you seemed to have a wide interest in a lot of different subjects and genres. Blaise was absolutely fascinated by you.

“Half of them are mudbloods.” Draco rolled his eyes. Blaise wanted to protest, he really did, but he knew it would cause more drama than it was worse by attempting to put Draco in his place. I was nearly always messy. “Let’s distract them a little, shall we?” Draco asked as he fished about in his robes for something he’d kept in his pocket just for the right occasion.

And that was when Blaise had been dragged into Draco’s shenanigans of throwing mini fireworks onto the book club’s table, Theo jumping in to laugh at them as they shrieked and scattered. But Blaise hadn’t laughed. He stood there, feeling like an idiot and an asshole, because you looked over at them with your book clutched protectively to your chest, a startled look in your eyes as you met his gaze. Fuck. Blaise was sure that whatever chance he had of ever speaking to you now was completely gone, especially as you gave him one last look before Neville Longbottom carefully tugged you and some of your group between the bookshelves.

***

“This is ridiculous.” Draco grumbled to himself as he entered the library the next afternoon, Blaise and Theo walking in behind him. Blaise looked up, searching the library for the little book club, his hands shoved in his trouser pockets in an attempt to seem relaxed, when really he felt rather pissed off. Stupid Malfoy and his stupid prejudice.

“Is this Madam Pince’s way of punishing them or us?” Hermione scoffed as she clocked the trio entering the library. Glancing over at Cho and Ginny, the pair gave you similar looks of discontent about the mere idea of having to spend just over an hour doing something you normally all found fun with a group of people that had just attacked your book club with mini fireworks. It seemed utterly backwards. “It feels like the latter.” Ginny muttered as the trio approached the table.

Discomfort settled over you, of course the three Slytherins intimidated you, you were shy and quiet and had never really spoken to them other than the odd interaction in class, and it didn’t help that Crabbe had made a point out of bullying you for being a muggleborn-know-it-all not long ago purely because of your blood status and house.

But while all three of the boys did intimidate you, there was something a little more intriguing about the tallest of the three. It hadn’t gone unnoticed that Blaise had at least somewhat of an interest in observing you and while others may find it uncomfortable, his gaze was not intimidating or offputting. In fact he seemed almost fascinated and you felt that the way he looked at you was warmer, much more than the way Draco did. But as you glanced up, only to catch his eyes and immediately look away out of shyness, you remembered that perhaps he wasn’t worth giving the time of day to. He had, afterall, been involved when Draco and Theo had thrown mini fireworks at your group the previous day and you didn’t recall ever seeing him trying to stop them.

But despite the way that Draco and Hermione clashed and the warning looks the boys got from Ginny while you scoured the shelves for a book to read, you slowly relaxed even with the initially unwelcome presence of the Slytherin boys.

Slowly as you began to explore the shelves, your fingers trailing over the spines of the books, discovering which title you might like to pick up this time for this week’s read, you gently pulled out an old copy of Jane Eyre. You weren’t expecting when you pulled the book off the shelf, to meet the eyes of Blaise Zabini, who stood, leaning back against the far bookshelf as he skimmed through the book in his hands, his eyes meeting yours only for a moment. You froze as soon as you saw his eyes on yours, feeling warmth blossom in your cheeks at the way he studied you calmly, his gaze gentle and soft as he looked at you, giving you the faintest hint of a smile before he looked back down at his book.

Blaise felt awful. You had looked so startled when he’d caught your eye through the bookshelves and he wondered if he intimidated you. He decided he couldn’t blame you if you were intimidated by him, he was friends with a group that were prone to picking on everyone. That combined with how shy you obviously were meant you were unlikely to approach anyone you weren’t comfortable with and Blaise felt even worse about the whole situation. What if you thought he was targeting you? Blaise knew he hasn’t exactly been subtle the times he had been gazing over at you on those afternoons in the library, those soft Thursday afternoons when the sun was in it’s golden hour, sending the most gentle and soft glow of warmth through the wobbled glass windows, casting a beautiful haze over you.

Blaise just hoped that attending the book club with you wasn’t enough to make you want to never speak to him full stop.

It was difficult for Blaise to admit though, that he was almost disappointed when the meeting ended, although he’d had quite enough of Granger and Malfoy’s hushed squabbling at one of the tables that Blaise had almost wanted to throw his book at them, though he wasn’t sure it was worth throwing his copy of Anne of Green Gables at them both.

But as he packed his borrowed book into his school bag, he caught you looking over at him from where you had been standing, a curious little look about you as you observed him, though you were quick to look away, a look of embarrassment on your features when you had seen he had noticed you before you began to walk away. “Wait a moment.” Blaise blurted it out as he quickly stepped into your pathway, startling you as you bumped into his chest and stumbled back a little, barely able to look up at him. “Merlin, I’m sorry.” He muttered, scared to touch you in case you didn’t want him to. “I just wanted to apologise for what happened yesterday, Malfoy was being a right git and I should have stopped him. I didn’t want to see you scared- your club scared.” He struggled to get it all out. While Blaise was confident, he was not the most chatty himself and apologising was not something he often found himself doing. Looking up at him, a little surprised at his apology, you just managed to look into his eyes for a moment before you focused back on the Slytherin green of his robe lining that was draped around his shoulders.

“Zabini, hurry up.” Theo drawled out as he leaned around the doorway to the library, Madam Pince shushing him as he lingered around the entrance. Blaise glanced over his shoulder at the boy dramatically leaning against the doorway before he turned back to you. “It’s alright.” You replied softly, a lot quieter than perhaps you had intended. You couldn’t hide your flustered reaction when you saw Blaise smile at the sound of your voice, his eyes lighting up and softening as he idly adjusted the bag on his shoulder. “I know the others are not interested in books but-.” “Blaaaiiise” Theo dragged out his name, the Slytherin boy in front of you sighing as he clenched his jaw a little. “Perhaps, would you like to read together?” He asked. Looking up at him, you smiled shyly, feeling rather flustered and giggly at the question, summoning all of your courage to respond to him. “Yes, perhaps.” You replied after a comfortable moment of silence. You wondered if he could tell he made you shy and giddy, or if it came off a little strange, but you supposed he wouldn’t be asking to read with you if he found you that weird.

And as Blaise gave you a quick goodbye, he walked off towards the exit, wearing a stoic face but on the inside, he was absolutely beaming. With three more weeks of the club to attend as punishment, there was plenty of time for you to hopefully warm up to him.

Blaise Taglist (OPEN):

@paintballkid711 @megantje123 @chaotic-fae-queen @slytherinwh0re @frecklesandfirecrackers @starofthedawn @mingyuahjumma @dracosaccount @90smalfoy @fuckingdraco @loving-life-my-way @cpetrova @miraclesoflove @struggling-bee @weasleywhore @little-me205 @dreaming-about-fanfictions @eli-malfoy-asf @ur-local-reality-shifter

[andypantsx3]

statistically significant | 4 | bakugou/reader

length: 23,490 words | 7 chapters

summary: You’re the scientist who developed a neural net to model the value of assists. Now that your work is feeding into the hero rankings, pro hero Ground Zero has a bone to pick with your results.

tags: romance, enemies to lovers, sexual tension, reader-insert

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut, m/f threats of violence, problematic behavior

For someone so loud and obnoxious, Bakugou was proving incredibly difficult to track down.

You spent the next few days hunting all over Miruko’s agency for him, an apology sitting uncomfortably in the back of your mouth, but no matter where you went, the hero was nowhere to be found. You prowled inexhaustibly through the fluorescent halls of the underground floors, and poked around curiously amongst the messy piles of paperwork on the business floor. You’d even switched up your schedule in case he was specifically timing his entrances and exits around you, and had taken to lingering suspiciously around the training rooms like some kind of leery pervert, eyeing every blonde head of hair with a little too much interest.

The more you thought about it, though, the more you realized Bakugou wasn’t exactly the type to hide and avoid confrontation, so eventually you moved on to interrogating Mina and Kaminari on Bakugou’s whereabouts. Both of them claimed not to know anything, and no one else seemed to have anything more helpful to say either, nothing more than “I don’t know, haven’t seen him.” It was reaching the point where you were honestly considering filing a missing persons report if he didn’t turn up soon.

It wasn’t until Friday morning that you finally glimpsed a head of messy, ash-blonde hair stalking down the hall to one of the training rooms. You all but fell out of your chair and launched yourself out of the surveillance room after him, shoes slapping loudly in the hall.

You weren't exactly being sneaky, but you didn't expect Bakugou to react the way he did. As soon as you got close, he stiffened and whirled on you. You caught a flash of red eyes and white teeth bared in a snarl before the hallway tipped out of focus and your back hit the wall, Bakgou’s hand clenched in the scruff of your shirt.

“The fuck are you doing?” Bakugou demanded, crimson gaze searching you over. A scowl sat heavily on his mouth, and you noticed that the corner of it was bruised. A long scratch ran across the bridge of his nose, tapering off over one high cheekbone. The rest of him looked untouched--he was clean, and dressed in simple, dark training clothes again that hugged the planes of his chest and strong thighs.

You stared up at him, shocked to find yourself against a wall again. “You’re--you’re here.”

A blonde eyebrow went up. “I fucking work here, nerd.”

You suppressed an eye roll. “That’s not what I meant, Bakugou. I’ve been looking for you--I need to talk to you.”

“So you thought you’d charge me like a fucking rhinocerous?” he demanded. His fingers unclenched from your shirt, however, relaxing against your collarbone. You fought down a shiver as his callouses caught on your skin.

“Don’t run up behind a hero like that, idiot. Especially after a mission,” he growled.

You eyed the cut across his nose speculatively. “Is that where you were this week?”

“That’s none of your damn business, is it, you nosy little shit?” he asked, something like a self-satisfied smirk pulling at the edge of his mouth.

You let your head fall back against the wall with a thunk, sighing. You’d forgotten how annoying he was in the near week you hadn’t seen him. It was going to make apologizing so fucking frustrating.

“Can you please just not make everything so difficult for once?” you asked absently, trying to dredge up enough humility to get on with your apology.

Bakugou let out a grunt, but shifted closer, one very intimidating bicep coming up to frame your head. Your mouth suddenly went very dry.

“You’re one to fucking talk,” Bakugou said, staring at you with intent.

Mina’s comments on his romantic preferences flitted to the surface of your mind in a wild flurry. Your face heated, and you desperately pushed the memories down. As much as you wanted to snipe at him with an unexpected comeback on what he really thought of women who didn’t take his shit, you did not want him to know you’d been discussing his inclinations. Besides, that would be presumptuous. Just because he had a thing for mouthy girls in general did not mean that preference extended to under-caffeinated and irritable data scientists.

You pushed yourself away from him, pressing harder into the wall in an attempt to create space. “Look, I didn’t come here to fight with you, okay?”

Those crimson eyes watched you impassively.

“Then what the fuck did you want, nerd?” he asked, leaning slightly closer where you’d just managed to create an inch of extra space. You caught that scent again, hot and butter-sweet in your nose, like burnt caramel, and tried your hardest to ignore exactly how symmetrical his face was up close.

You suppressed an eye twitch. What was his thing about walls and intimidating people? And why was he so close to you? Had this man never heard of personal space?

“Actually, I came to apologize,” you said haltingly, looking up at him. If you hadn’t been watching him carefully, you might not have caught the minute widening of his eyes, the very slightest downturn of his blonde brows.

“What?” he rasped.

“You heard me,” you insisted. “I didn’t mean that you were--uh--weak. When I said I would help the other day. That’s the opposite of what I meant.”

Bakugou’s mouth pulled into an immediate snarl. “Fuck you. I don’t need your pity. I can handle myself fucking fine.”

You huffed. “I don’t pity you. That’s not what I meant.”

“If you fucking think--”

“I don’t!” you yelped, seeming to startle him. “Can you just listen for ten seconds? I’m trying to say something here.”

“Fucking obviously--”

“Bakugou, shut up!” you demanded. “This whole situation isn’t what you think it is, okay? I--I only made a bet with you in the first place because I thought you could jump rank, alright? When I say I’m helping you, I mean that I’m giving you insight because I firmly believe that you are capable of pulling this off. I....honestly, I wouldn’t have even made the damn bet if I didn’t actually want you to try this, because everyone knows you can do literally anything if you want it enough. Obviously you’re going to win.”

He was staring now, and it was all you could do not to shrink under the intensity of his gaze.

“So before you get your panties all in a twist over the fact that I used the word help, just remember that it doesn’t mean I think you’re incapable. I think you’re the most capable out of everyone here. And if you would stop being such a fussy baby for five frigging minutes, we could get back to retraining your habits so you could prove that you are!” you finished, huffing a little with the force of your anger. You forced your fists to uncurl from where they had balled up at your side.

Bakugou watched you carefully, unnervingly silent. You could feel his gaze almost like a touch where it brushed over you, and you fixed your eyes resolutely below his face, not wanting to look at him. You shifted uncomfortably against the cold plaster of the wall, waiting for the dam to break. Where was the screaming? When was it coming?

To your horror, a smirk pulled at the corner of Bakugou’s mouth instead.

“You think I’m the most capable, huh?” he asked. His arm shifted closer.

A flush washed through you with startling speed, heating your cheeks. “Oh my god. Shut up.”

His smirk widened into a predatory smile, baring a pointed canine. “It’s okay. You can own up to your little crush on me, nerd.”

You stared at him in shock. “How is that what you took away from this conversation? I didn’t say that. How in the world would you think that, when all you do is shove me against walls and act like a ginormous baby?”

“You’d prefer I shove you against walls and do something else?” he asked, a blonde eyebrow raising.

Your mind blanked out, fuzzy with static for a moment. You fought down a tiny, traitorous shiver. What the hell was going on in his brain? And how in the actual fuck was this the turn the conversation was taking? All you had wanted to do was get him out of his snit fit so you could get back on track to obtaining software engineers. How had he gotten so off track?

“That’s not what I--! I mean, you--!” you babbled uselessly, freezing up when he shifted his arm. He watched you with obvious relish.

“Ugh, I think I prefer you when you’re screaming at me,” you groused.

Bakugou’s smirk turned wicked, and he opened his mouth to say something you were certain you absolutely did not want to hear. Panicking, you brought a hand up and shoved it over his mouth.

“Whatever is about to come out of there, just keep it to yourself,” you commanded. “Now you’ve wasted enough time dicking around. We need to retrain your habits stat if you want to have enough time for everything to propagate in the model by the end of the month.”

A rough palm came up to yank your hand away from his face. “I’ll do whatever the fuck I want.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not if you want any chance of actually winning the bet.”

Bakugou scoffed, but to your surprise, he didn’t outright dismiss you. His eyes roved over you for a few seconds more, before he pronounced imperiously, “Tell me your big plan then, nerd. I’ll decide if it’s worth my damn time.”

You sighed. It was probably too much to hope that he’d suddenly be totally amenable to everything after your big speech. He wouldn’t be Bakugou Katsuki if he didn’t make everything such a production. At least he was still here and listening, despite the front he was putting up. And the weird conversational detour he’d attempted to take.

“I was thinking you need team training,” you said lightly. “To get in the habit of sticking close by to other heroes, and to practice evaluating situations more slowly.”

He regarded you consideringly, scarlet eyes flicking over your face. “You want me to train with a bunch of these b-list fucking idiots?”

You suppressed another eye roll. “Teammates. I want you to train with your teammates, Bakugou.”

He made a dismissive noise. “As if. I’m not going near any of those annoying little shits.”

You eyed him speculatively, a thought forming in the back of your mind. “....What about annoying little shits that will go near you?”

He scowled. “What?”

You gestured past him, to the window of a nearby training room, where two familiar figures were darting around the space, throwing up middle fingers at each other as often as attacks. “I have some people in mind.”

Bakugou glanced over his shoulder. Enough of his face was in view for you to see the thunderous expression that overtook over his features as he regarded his friends.

When he turned back to you, he was growling. “No. Absolutely fucking not.”

“Heya Blasty!” Kaminari chirped over his shoulder, pausing when you’d opened the door to the training room. “And stats girl! Come to let a real hero show you how it’s done?”

He shifted up out of a crouch, scrubbing a hand through his hair. Sweat had dried in it, standing some of it on end like he’d been hit with his own lightning. Actually, judging from the singe marks all over his clothes, maybe he had.

“Shut the fuck up before I blow your brains right outta your skull,” Bakugou’s sharp tone issued from somewhere over your shoulder. You could hear debris crunching heavily under his boots, like he was stomping a little.

Mina’s wild pink curls peeked out from behind an overturned car. “Do I hear the dulcet tones of my sunshine boy, Bakugou Katsuki?”

A telltale round of crackling went off behind you, accompanied by a snarl. Mina just laughed, sliding out fully from her hiding place, looking completely unthreatened. “Relax, Blasty. No one’s around to question your tough guy image.”

Bakugou made a dismissive noise. “The fuck do you know.”

Mina made an amused humming noise. Her dark eyes found yours and she smiled conspiratorially. You were struck again by the mental image of Bakugou in makeup and had to suppress a wild laugh.

“Hey, quit it with the fucking face over there,” Bakugou barked, seeming to detect that mutual amusement was being shared at his expense. He surged past you to put his entire palm over Mina’s face. Mina only laughed louder, her peals of bright laughter muffled slightly in his hand. “I’ll fucking end you.”

Kaminari dismissed the two of them, golden eyes flicking over to you. He smiled boyishly. “So, stats girl. What brings you and your angry pomeranian here?”

“Hey, fuck you, pikachu,” Bakugou growled. Then, “You fucking--raccoon--did you just lick me?”

You bit down on a smile, glancing between Mina and Kaminari. It was unexpectedly cute, the way Bakugou was clearly outmatched by his chaotic friends. They seemed supremely unconcerned with the fact that he might actually follow through on his threats, if the way Mina was making kissing noises into his hand was any indication.

“I thought I’d ask if you guys would be willing to train with Bakugou. He needs...adjustments,” you said, making sure to steer clear of the word help. You’d said your apology, and it seemed like Bakugou understood now, but you didn’t want to muddy the waters any on that point.

“Aww, and you came to little old us?” Kaminari asked Bakugou. His tone did nothing to disguise his obvious glee.

“Fuck you, I didn’t come to you--”

“I did,” you pronounced, deciding to help Bakugou out a little. You weren’t going to get anywhere if he spent the whole afternoon flinging insults and insisting he didn’t need anything from Mina and Kaminari. “He has two areas he wants to retrain on. This afternoon I was thinking you could run a couple simulations where he has to stick close to you two instead of going off on his own to do whatever he wants.”

“I don’t go off and do whatever, you damn nerd, I finish the fucking fight--”

“Do you guys think you might be able to spare an hour or two?” you asked loudly. “I’m sure he’d be willing to return the favor for your retraining.”

Kaminari looked positively gleeful, and Mina’s unusual eyes sparkled curiously from over Bakugou’s broad hand. To your surprise, Bakugou didn’t disagree.

“If I get to play villain, I’m in!” Mina agreed, finally shaking Bakugou’s hand off. “I’m gonna melt your legs off,” she told him.

He scoffed. “Good luck trying without any damn arms.”

She made a kissy face at him. “Gonna be hard to come at me if you have to stick to Denki the whole time.”

“Hey,” Kaminari protested indignantly, but he was drowned out by Bakugou descending into an incredibly explicit rant full of choice invectives. This seemed to prompt both Mina and Kaminari to let loose their own shit talk--Mina's comments in particular so obscene and inventive they would make a frat boy blush. It took some prompting and several minutes before the three of them were coherent enough to discuss the training again.

When you eventually managed to reroute them, they drew up the terms of their practice--Bakugou couldn’t go further than fifty feet from Kaminari for the duration of the exercise, and he’d be docked points for every possible opportunity he had where he might have assisted Kaminari and instead went in for the kill on his own. You agreed to code something up quick to layer over the training footage, to identify when Bakugou strayed too far from Kaminari, or went for a shot himself. To make it stick, Mina also insisted that at the end of the exercise, if Bakugou had managed to lose more than ten points, he had to submit to a punishment of Mina and Kaminari's choosing. You shuddered to think of what that was.

Once the details were fully hashed out, you found yourself being immediately shepherded out of the training room by Bakugou. He ushered you along impatiently like a dog corralling a wayward sheep.

“I’m gonna let loose on these fucking clowns--don’t need your quirkless ass getting in the way,” he groused as he led you. This drew you up short at the threshold, and you gaped at him, eyes darting up to catch his.

You...hadn’t told him you were quirkless. In fact, you were sure you hadn’t discussed that with anyone here, not even Miruko. The fact wasn’t something that bothered you, but it also wasn’t the sort of thing you brought up all too often. So....how did Bakugou know?

His scarlet gaze flicked almost lazily over you, and he seemed to catch the unspoken question. Rubble crackled under his boots as he shifted his weight to one hip. “What? You think you’re the only one who’s done their research, brat?”

You felt your heartbeat stutter and then pick up, just the slightest bit. Done...his research? What exactly did that mean? And if he meant what you thought he meant, what was it he’d been trying to learn about you? And why did he need to know?

“Bakugou, what--?” you began, but he cut you off by raising one large hand and shoving you through the door. He leaned out after you, and you caught a hint of that burnt caramel scent again. Your mind fogged a little at his proximity.

“I’m gonna win the fucking bet,” he pronounced slowly, scarlet gaze cutting into you, “and then you’re in for it, nerd.”

You gawped up at him, unable to help the way your mouth hung open. Was he threatening you? And if yes, why was he looking so unusually calm about it? Where was the rage, the snarling and the spitting like a wet cat? And why was he looking at you like that?

Bakugou answered none of your questions, tossing you a wicked smirk instead. Then he turned and slammed the door closed on you, leaving you alone with a swirl of hazy, half-formed concerns.

What....the fuck had just happened?

[smellsfaintlyofvanilla]

Hi, I have this super specific idea so feel free to ignore this one lol. So basically, Annie and the reader have been dating for a while, like at least a year. And the reader is in the survey corps right, so during one of the missions she ends up getting injured in an explosion and she's like all burned up and covered in injury's that'll scar really bad. And so the reader gets taken to a hospital or med bay or whatever, and she's been out for days, and like Reiner, Eren, Mikasa, etc. are all there, ya know her little gaggle of friends. And like she's been unconscious for days but sometimes she'll wake up for a few minutes and pass out again. So when Annie gets the news and comes to see her she like starts to wake up, and when she's coherent Annie is holding her hand and says "I'm glad you're alive" or something, then the reader just kinda stares at her for a minute and says "are you one of my friends from the cadet corps" and everyone's shocked and Annie kinda runs off. And ass the reader gets better she's allowed to walk around town and shit as long as someone's with her because she he's trouble walking, and she like can't hold things in one of her hands without shaking like she's about to fall apart. She basically hos no memories of absolutely anything so if someone says that their friends she just believes them and wants to be with them, which is a contrast to how she was in the cadets because she was always super short tempered and would pick fights with everyone, but she always had a soft spot for Annie and would follow her around and shit while being an ass to everyone else. So now she has no memories, blind as shit, can barely walk, and is super kind and polite to just about everyone. And like she insists on Annie seeing her and wants to go with her wherever she goes and is all smiles and happiness while Annie is kinda having a crisis. Because they were both very closed off people and they opened up to each other and built unwavering trust and loyalty but now one of them doesn't remember, Annie wants to help her but at the same time she feels that it's for the best if they stay apart, uh spoiler they don't stay apart it's just gonna take time. I'm really sorry this was so long dude. Also please tell me this made sense I haven't stopped think about this for days

I- It’s a little confusing but I think I get it.

Let me know if I get anything wrong!

I also included a lot of platonic AruAni because it’s cute.

Unbearable

(Annie Leonhart x Reader)

AU: Canon

Warnings: Implied season 3 spoilers

Category: Both angst and fluff (somehow)

Summary: After getting seriously injured in a mission, Annie’s s/o doesn’t recognize anyone, and is left very weak. Still, Annie and her S/O stick together through the recovery.

Words: 5.5K

It’d gone wrong. It’d all gone horribly wrong.

A freak accident—only preventable by, perhaps, closer gear inspection, but it was far too late for that. The damage had been done.

The most recent Survey Corps mission was just concluding, and you managed to call yourself one of the lucky ones who survived this far. Erwin led the charge back to the walls at full speed, having completed the objective by the skin of his teeth, but an abnormal titan was tagging dangerously close behind.

The towering beast approached closer and closer, until it kicked the horse you were on, sending you and it abruptly flying through the air and away from the Scouts.

It took you a minute to regain your senses and realize the gravity of your situation. Your horse lay dying 40 feet away from you. Clearly, it would be of no help. The abnormal lurched towards you unnaturally, and your eyes widened in fear.

A quick movement of your upper body caused a jolt of pain to shoot up your chest, and you were positive you must’ve broke a few ribs when you collided with the dirt.

Still, you had limited time before the monster reached you, and you weren’t about to die that easily. You bore the pain in your chest as you stood up straight, beads of cold sweat rolling down your face as you surveyed your situation to find the easiest way out.

You were too far from your horse, and the rest of the Scout formation, and you were in no shape to run. Your head turned towards the walls, and an idea popped into your mind—you were going to scale the wall.

You broke into a quick sprint before you shot your ODM gear into the wall, flying towards it at lightning speed. Your back took the brunt of the impact, and you groaned in pain.

Still, it seems as if the abnormal wasn’t going to let you get a moment’s rest, as it caught up to you and tried to jump and grab you, but narrowly missed your boot. The rush of adrenaline kicked your body into gear as you shot the grapple of your ODM gear onto the ledge of the wall and hauled yourself up, a garrison soldier helping you before turning to man one of the cannons.

You stood up triumphantly on the wall, the titan below you still trying in vain to reach you. You could hear the distant shouting of a commander—and what you could out assume was the foreboding shout, “FIRE!!!”

And that’s where everything went wrong.

The cannon, no more than three feet to your right, exploded into a supernova of sparks and flames, and the last thing you saw was fire as blinding pain shot through your body.

And then it all went black.

---

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but only family members are allowed to see her at the moment, you’re going to have to wait until she’s discharged.” The poor receptionist sighed, staring up at the distressed woman in front of her.

“I don’t care if ‘only family is allowed’! I’m her girlfriend, I should be allowed to see her!” Annie shouted, dressed in a simple white hoodie and grey pants. An outfit too casual for her to wear outside in most occasions, but when she heard the news of your admission to the hospital, she didn’t care to change.

“I’m sorry, there’s really nothing I can do-”

Annie leaned in closer, grabbing the receptionist by the collar of her shirt and pulling her in, a dangerous look gracing her face. Her voice came out in a threatening growl.

“Look, I’m a part of the military police, so if anyone asks, I’m just her older sister,” She glared daggers the woman, who shook like a leaf at the intimidation, “Got it?”

The woman nodded urgently, sweating bullets at this point, and Annie was thankful the intimidation had worked. “R-Room 302...”

She didn’t bother letting out a response as she ran to the wing of the hospital you were in. She didn’t know quite where the room was, but she would find out soon enough.

After a painful few minutes of searching, her eyes found the plate outside of a closed wooden door, the number reading “302″.

She walked up to it, and took a deep breath in before twisting the doorknob and pushing her way into the room, but her eyes widened in surprise and she gasped at the sight.

She knew it was bad—after all, nothing good ever came out of being so close to an explosion like that—but she couldn’t have been prepared for what she saw.

You were laid down on the bed, clearly unconscious, and sweltering burns covered at least 60% of your body, especially your right side. Many limbs were elevated and covered in taunting white casting, and you let out shallowed, labored breaths.

She mentally cursed the primitive healthcare the Eldians seemed to have, and the lack of a doctor in the room. She was no professional, but you definitely didn’t look to be in a state to be alone.

She though you were alone, that is, until her rationality returned to her and she noticed many figures in the room, though none bore the staff uniform.

They seemed to notice her before long, and a few stared at her quietly with pity in their eyes. She scanned the faces that surrounded her; Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Sasha, Connie, and Reiner were all present in the room.

“What in...” Her voice came out short in her throat; the words were just as powerless as she was, “What in God’s name happened to her...” It was hushed, almost husky, and it sounded like she was about to cry. Maybe she was, but she didn’t notice.

Mikasa seemed to be the first one to speak up through the heavy silence, stepping forward to grab Annie’s attention.

“It was on the recent scouting mission yesterday. She narrowly escape a titan by climbing over the wall, but one of the Garrison’s cannons blew up.” Mikasa looked to the side, clearly troubled by the situation as well. “Of the four people caught up in the explosion, she’s the only one still alive.”

Annie didn’t process quite what Mikasa had said at first, her mind was more focused on a pressing question that suddenly arose in her mind.

“The only one still alive?” She echoed. “Why did you phrase it like that?”

Mikasa sighed, covering her mouth with her scarf—something she often did when she was troubled. “Well, the doctor is doing all he can at the moment, but she’s been drifting in and out of consciousness nonstop for the past hour. Even when she is awake, we can’t seem to get a coherent response out of her.”

She froze.

Her eyes moved back to your battered form. She hadn’t taken in exactly how bad it was until now. Shattered bones, burnt skin, compromised organs—you were nearly unrecognizable. Not in the way that you were scarred beyond recognition, but in the way that she never imagined to see you in such a state. You looked like you had, quite literally, went through hell and back.

She let out a pained sigh, slinking down in a chair next to the bed and staring at the floor in defeat. She reached out and grabbed your limp hand at your side, running her thumb delicately over your burnt hand, as if the slightest mistouch would cause you to shatter like delicate porcelain.

“Please...” She knew you couldn’t hear her, but she didn’t care. She just wanted to pretend, for a brief moment, that you could, and that you’d bounce right back up. But, you stayed limp on the bed, unmoving. “Please wake up...”

The others were able to read the room and came to a silent consensus, filing out of the room wordlessly.

She continued to hold your hand, sitting silently on your bedside for hours.

You never regained consciousness once.

---

Dreams flashed through her mind, the inner turmoil she faced was too fierce to not have such vibrant, nonsensical dreams. Dreams of you, spending late nights with her, or eating with her in silence. Dreams of your broken and bloodied body being sent flying from a hellish firework of flames. Dreams of visiting a newly dug grave. Dreams of—

A loud banging startled her out of her sleep, and she opened her eyes with a start, the dreams stopping abruptly as her brain pieced together the fragments of reality. Right, they were just dreams.

The banging—what was it? She looked around for a source. Nothing had fallen, nothing had moved, the room was still.

*BANG BANG BANG*

She jumped at the loud so, before facepalming internally. Of course someone was knocking on the door, what was she thinking?

A quick glance at the clock showed the time; 3AM. What is going on?

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she threw on some sweatpants, just presentable enough to answer the door.

She twisted the knob open and was greeted by...

“Armin?” She slurred, confusion and tiredness laced her voice.

“Annie...!” He had a strange look on his face, like he was in a hurry. Yet, it didn’t look like desperation, nor was it excitement. “Y/n woke up!”

---

She had never run faster. She didn’t care about leaving Armin in the dust at her front doorstep—hell, it didn’t even process until minutes later that she didn’t even close the front door. She just ran, ran, ran all the way to the hospital.

She made it to your room again, panting and desperate to see you again.

She went inside, and an immense wave of relief and joy washed over her face. It was true, you were conscious. Sitting up in the bed, talking to someone at your bedside, likely a nurse or a doctor.

Her loud footsteps and heavy breathing brought the attention of both you and the staff member to her, and you locked eyes with her.

She froze. There they were. The beautiful E/C eyes she had fallen in love with, and the same ones that filled her vision when she first awoke next to you in the morning. Except, something was off. She couldn’t quite place it, but there was disarray in your eyes. A storm.

She paid no mind to the rotten gut feeling, though, and rushed by your side to grip your hand tightly. A spark of sympathy arose in her chest when you whimpered in pain at the motion, but that was the last thing on her mind. Tears of happiness sparked in her eyes and threatened to roll down her cheeks.

She bowed her head—a sign of vulnerability that only you were ever able to see.

“Y/n, I...!” She choked out through the tears in her eyes, the back of her throat tightening with emotion, “I’m so glad you’re okay...”

You didn’t embrace her, you didn’t squeeze her hand back. No, you were still. Still as you were when your battered body was first admitted to the hospital. She looked up at you, and the same misguided look was in your eyes.

“Sorry... do I know you?”

---

She slammed the door behind her, locking it as she slid down the wall of her house, sobs wracking her body.

Her mind had neglected to process it until just now, but the truth was inescapable; you didn’t know who she was anymore. You didn’t know anyone or anything anymore.

Amnesia.

She couldn’t bear to see you like that. Seeing you so physically broken was bad enough, but seeing you confused and lost, years of memories and connections and friends just out the window? If there was a god, he sure as hell must’ve hated you.

She had no idea what to do. You weren’t going to just magically remember her. No, the Y/N she knew and loved all those years was gone. You were just a blank slate. She no longer meant anything to you, she was a stranger in your eyes.

She laid down to go to sleep, but she couldn’t even bring herself to close her eyes. She didn’t sleep that night.

---

She chose not to get up the next morning. She stayed in bed, staring at the empty space next to her where you usually slept. She wanted you to be right there next to her. God, she wanted you back.

She would’ve stayed in her depressed, hibernated state for hours, or even days, had someone not stopped by to check on her.

She figured it would be Armin. The sympathetic blonde man would always stop by to check on her. Not just now, but throughout their days as cadets. He was always the second person—after you, of course—to check up on her and ask how she was doing.

But when she opened the door and saw Mikasa, she was a little confused.

“Mikasa, what are y-”

“Y/n wants to speak with you.” She stated flatly, and Annie physically recoiled at the mention of your name.

“She... what?” Annie muttered, confusion enveloping her tone.

She understood the statement, on a surface level at least. But she didn’t understand why. Why did you want to talk to her? She meant nothing to you. What was there to talk about anymore? You probably didn’t even know her name.

She complied silently, though, and before long, she had trudged herself all the way to the hospital.

302. Such a depressing number to her now. But it was unavoidable. You were on the other side of the door, awaiting her for some odd reason.

She pushed the door open, and her eyes met yours silently. You were sitting up with your hands folded neatly in your lap. Your eyes followed Annie as she wordlessly shut the door and took a seat next at your bedside.

“Annie.” The blonde women flinched at the sound of her name, eyes staying fixated on anything but your face. “Annie.”

She finally shifted her head, meeting your gaze. There was a pitiful look tracing her features. It would look like indifference at first glance, but being so close to her allowed you to notice small features on her face, like her sunken in eyes, and her lips, tucked into a frown slightly tighter than normal.

She looked like she was about to cry.

You moved your arm slowly, wincing internally as your wounds burned and ached, and took her hand in your own, rubbing your thumb over the back of her hand in a soothing manner. Annie didn’t want to enjoy it—she knew this wasn’t the you she had fallen in love with—but she couldn’t stop herself from remembering the simpler times, where small affectionate gestures like this were normal to her.

“Mikasa told me just about everything I’ve forgotten.” You finally spoke up. “About the Scouts, about the accident, about us.” A painful silence filled the room for a moment following the word ‘us’. Surely, it meant more to her than it did to you.

“Annie.” You squeezed her hand despite the pain shooting up your arm, and your hand trembled involuntarily. “I know I don’t really know you,” You chuckled lightly, “or anyone for that matter, but I want to spend more time with you. We can just restart, fall in love all over a-”

“No!” She snapped, the sudden outburst causing you to jump. Her distressed eyes softened when she saw you, almost as if she thought you were made of glass, and that you would break at any moment. “No... please...”

She stood up abruptly, dropping your hand to lay dormant by the side of the hospital bed. “You don’t even know me! What’s the point?!”

Despite her angry appearance, her bottom lip trembled, and her voice shook as she spoke. Pricks of tears appeared at the corner of her eyes, but she wiped them away desperately.

“You forgot me, so I’ll forget you in return.” She turned towards the door, grabbing the knob firmly. Despite her desperate need to get out of the room, her hand trembled and shook, refusing to turn the knob.

“I’ll...” A small sob wracked her body. “Find someone else...”

---

Contrary to what her heart truly desired, she refused to see you. She forced herself to cut off all emotional ties to you—after all, you didn’t even know her. It was painful to even speak to you. Somehow, the loss had felt like you truly had died in the explosion. Sure, you were physically here, but all that was you was gone.

It was Armin who finally brought her out of her depressed slump. He saw the state of her after weeks of staying huddled up in her room. It was so unlike Annie. Her room was a mess, and so was she. Her hair was unkempt and unbrushed, and she hadn’t even showered at all. Clothes lay scattered across the room, and the trash can in the corner of the room had started overflowing.

It wasn’t a pleasing sight, but he couldn’t blame her.

He had offered to meet him at a local café to talk—albeit, after she showered. She hesitantly agreed, and went into the bathroom to get ready. While she showered, Armin absentmindedly picked up some of the scattered clothing, putting it in it’s proper place, and even emptied the trash can for her.

He saw the slight shock in her eyes when she came out, surprised, but internally grateful for his help. She didn’t show it verbally, but she gave a thankful nod, and he understood.

---

Armin brought the cup to his lips, the steam flowing from the cup blocking his face as he sipped his tea silently, and Annie took another bite of her glazed donut.

“So, Annie.” He turned to face her, setting his cup down. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

She sighed internally. Nothing yet had been spoken, but she knew it was about you. Her silence beckoned him to continue.

“I... No, we all noticed how you’ve been recently, and we understand it. Who knows what you’re feeling right now...” His sympathy went mostly unappreciated. She really didn’t want to be reminded of the depressive state she had fallen into.

“It’s completely up to you, but... we think it would be better for you if you decided to talk to her again.” Armin didn’t need to say who this ‘her’ was. Annie already knew.

She raised an eyebrow and considered his statement for a fleeting moment, but regained her stance. She wasn’t going to talk to you. No convincing from her friends would change that.

“See, the thing is, Y/N has been discharged.” He spoke, bringing the cup back to his face to preemptively fill the silence he anticipated.

No amount of emotional cover-up could hide the shocked look on her face. Part of her was ecstatic, deep down. She was glad you were well enough to leave. But, the other part reminded her that associating with you would only bring her more hurt.

“But, there isn’t really going to be any recovering from what she experienced, unfortunately.” He brought the cup back down onto the table, now empty of all it’s liquid. “So, the doctor advised that she be under careful supervision from someone at all times.”

Annie wasn’t stupid. She knew where this was going.

“So,” he huffed a breath of heavy air, “We decided that if anyone was going to take her in, it should be you, Annie. We want to take her back to live with you.” She could feel her jaw slack at the proposal, and a full-fledged war had just started in her mind. She registered he was still speaking, but was too conflicted to listen.

Once again, part of her mind was desperately trying to reach you. To take you in and care for you, and to ensure you have a safe and comfortable recovery with her. She could restart with you, and make new memories with you, and everyone else.

But she understand it would be painful. Unbearable, even. She might as well be taking care of a stranger. You didn’t act like Y/n, you didn’t look like Y/n, hell, you hardly even knew who Y/n was at this point. It would just hurt her even more, all she needed to do was get away from you—!

“Annie...!” Armin spoke firmly, slightly leaned over the table as if he had been prying for her attention for a while now. He reached across the table to grab her hand, causing her to gasp. His hand was warm. It reminded her of you.

“I know what you’re thinking.” His voice was soothing and inviting, and she was reminded once again of what great friends she had made in the 104th.

“You think it’s gonna hurt, and it will, I’m sure. I understand too. She doesn’t quite act like she did before, we all noticed. It’s...” He paused, leaning back in his chair and looking to the side. It had hurt him, too. “Strange. To see a friend like this.”

He leaned forward, pulling his hand away to place it back on the table. “But you have to do something! Separating yourself from someone you care about so deeply isn’t good for you.” He brought his head up slightly, staring daggers into her eyes. “And don’t lie to me. I know you still care about her. You wouldn’t be so conflicted if you didn’t.”

Tears pricked at her eyes once again. She didn’t want to get emotional, and certainly not here of all places. But she knew he was telling the truth. She still cared, and it wasn’t good for her to ignore you.

“Besides,” He stood up, turning to leave. “She misses you too, Annie.”

---

She made up her mind that day. She was gonna bring you back home.

It wasn’t easy. Both the emotional aspect, but also cleaning up her filthy room in such a short span of time. Still, she prepped it perfectly for your arrival. She cleaned up the room, organized her things, made the bed, and even bought a second pillow—surely, you two couldn’t share just the one.

Picking you up from the hospital was bittersweet. You managed to stay standing, although only with the help of a wooden cane. Your hand gripped the handle tightly, and you leaned a large portion of your body weight on it, just to not fall over.

You had changed out of the raggedy hospital clothes, finally getting to wear something comfortable after so long, but even with the cloth, the purplish-redish burn scars coated much of your body. It reached from the very fingertips of your right hand, all the way up your neck and part of your face.

Still, you smiled weakly and brought your hand up to wave at her.

She approached you hesitantly, but as soon as you tried to stumble over to her, she rushed up to support you with an arm around your shoulder.

“Easy, now.” She muttered. “You should be careful.”

“Right,” You chuckled nervously. “Sorry.” You breathed out a sigh of relief, having seen the outside for the first time in weeks. It didn’t stop the stone walls from towering forebodingly over you, though, but you felt at least some freedom.

“Where are we headed?” You sighed, and started walking. Annie guided you for the most part, but you managed to get your injured legs to cooperate, somewhat. You hand trembled as it gripped the cane, and even step on uneven ground caused you to stumble, but Annie’s grip kept you upright.

“We’re going...” She hesitated. “Home.”

---

Early morning birds chirped their greetings through the open windows, and the sun shone rays of dawn down from the sky. A typical wake-up call to her.

That, and your snoring.

She opened her eyes and stretched, easing up the tension in her muscles, which had laid painfully dormant for the past eight hours. Yawning and rubbing the sleep from her eyes, her attention shifted to the mass attached to her side.

Your arms were wrapped tightly around her torso, and your head was buried in her chest. Despite having lived with you for a few weeks now, she hadn’t gotten used to the change. In the past, neither of you really cuddled in your sleep. You gave sweet goodnights and passed out on opposite sides of the bed just like that.

It was a welcome change, though, and seeing you tucked so comfortably into her side brought a smile and blush to her face. She ran a hand through your messy h/c hair, smiling softly as you stirred in response to the affection.

“...Mm?” You let out a groggy noise, having been woken up a little earlier than you were used to. Annie was always the morning person in the relationship.

“Good morning.” She cooed, removing her hand to sit up and get out of bed. Once she tried to stand, though, she felt a frail hand tug at her wrist. You grip was weak as a result of your injuries, and she could very easily wiggle out if she wanted to, but she faltered.

“C’mon...” You muttered, face down in the blankets, still halfway asleep. “Can’t you stay a little longer?”

Annie huffed in defeat, climbing back into the bed and shuffling back under the cotton sheets. You were back at her side in an instant, and she smiled once again. Even after everything, you were still just as cute as always when you were sleepy.

“We can’t stay like this for very long, you know.” She sighed, placing a warm, calloused hand on your back.

You groaned in annoyance at that. “Why’s that?”

“Armin and the others invited us out to get lunch. It’s been a while since the Survey Corps has had a day off.” She looked to the side before muttering quietly. “I also have to go to work with the military police... I’ve used up all my paid leave.”

“Oh... yeah, we should probably get ready.” Contrary to your tone, you were actually quite happy. Annie had been quite a bit overprotective of you since your injury, so you hadn’t gotten the chance to get out much. You couldn’t blame her much, though. You could hardly walk, eat, or do just about anything without assistance. You were glad she took good care of you, but it got a little overbearing sometimes.

“Let’s get up, then.” She said, slinking out of bed. You watched wordlessly as she slipped out of her night clothes into something more presentable, sliding her shirt over her head effortlessly. You couldn’t help but blush as your eyes trailed down her toned stomach.

She looked back at you with an unamused expression as she slid on a plain white shirt. “You shouldn’t stare, Y/n.”

“R-Right.” You looked away flustered. You had only technically known her a few weeks now, but man were you lucky.

Annie’s warm hand enveloping your own brought you back into reality, and you accepted her help wordlessly as you got out of bed.

She helped you out of your clothes and handed you something nice to put on for the day. It was a comfortable ritual the two of you got into, helping you get dressed in the morning.

She sat you down in one of the chair’s in her room, ordering you to stay put while she went to the military police mess hall to pick up breakfast for the two of you.

She came back into the room only a few minutes later, carrying two trays of food, and sat them down in front of both of you. It was a boring meal, typical of any military ration, but you didn’t complain.

“So, Annie,” She looked up from her food, still digging her fork into the baked potato on her plate. “Tell me a story.”

She smiled longingly, staying silent for a moment as she recollected her memories for a good story to tell. Ever since you lost your memory and started staying with Annie, you often spent mealtimes getting her to tell stories about you, her, and your other friends. About what happened in the 104th, and the Survey Corps, and sometimes, you’d ask Annie about her childhood and time before the military. She seemed very hesitant about the last one, but she still told you bits and pieces. You could easily infer that she didn’t have a very pleasant childhood, so you didn’t push the subject.

“Well,” Annie finally spoke, swallowing a gulp of water from her glass, having seemingly found a story she felt like telling. “One time, in the 104th, Sasha had managed to convince you to steal food from the pantry with her.”

You listened intently as she continued recounting the events, a sad smile on her face. “So you and her snuck in late at night, but Shadis heard both of you because of how loud Sasha was. So then, you two had no where to go but a tiny cramped pantry in the kitchen, and then—”

*CRASH*

You sat there like a deer in headlights as the glass shattered into hundreds of transparent shards on the floor, startling Annie out of her nostalgic trance.

“Y/n!” She exclaimed, standing up from her seat swiftly. She spotted the broken glass, mixed with the water it had held, and looked back at you. Once she pieced it together, she facepalmed.

“Y/n...” She sighed. “How many times do I have to tell you to not to try and pick up things right now...”

“Sorry,” You muttered. “I just wanted to see...”

Despite the severity of your injuries, you were quite stubborn. No matter how much Annie insisted that you not hold things in your state, you did so anyway. It seldom worked, since, like now, you always dropped it within seconds.

“It’s... It’s fine,” She sighed, leaning down to carefully pick up the larger fragments of glass. Once she got the larger pieces, she dumped them in the trash and knelt down in front of your chair on one knee, grabbing your hand in her own. “But you need to remember, your injuries haven’t healed yet. Nowhere close. I know you hate it, but you need to let your body rest.”

You nodded sorrowfully. Yet, despite how much you promised, you knew you’d never really stop trying to push your body. Even if your skin was scarred, and hands were shaky, and the muscles of your legs atrophied and partially-paralyzed, you would never stop trying to live a normal life.

Annie had finished sweeping up the smaller shards of glass in the dustpan, and dumped it into the trash can, before returning to the table.

Silently, she grabbed her glass, still half filled with water, and brought it up to your lips. When you had first started living with Annie, you were a little embarrassed about having to be fed like this, but you had long since gotten used to it.

Once the glass was empty, she sat it down on the tabletop once again, and checked the time.

“Shit, we should get going, it’s nearly time.” She sighs, grabbing your cane from it’s spot leaning against the wall and handing it to you. You thank her and, with her help, stand up from your spot. Her arm slinks around your waist, allowing you to lean half of your body weight on the cane and the other half on Annie.

As you made your way out of the building and down the street towards the restaurant, you finally broke the silence.

“Annie?” You asked, quietly. There was an uncharacteristic sadness to your voice.

“Yes, darling?” She inquired, keeping her eyes glued on the trail in front of you.

“How come you still take care of me? Even after the accident, you still stick with me. Why is that?”

Annie chuckles dryly. She doesn’t want to tell you that it’s still a sore subject for her, so she answers honestly.

“It wasn’t so black and white, really. It was pretty upsetting to see someone I loved so much not even recognize me at all.” Her eyes bore into the pavement below her feet. “No offense, of course.”

“None taken.”

“But a friend of mine talked to me about it. And I realized there would be no point in running from it. I decided that if you didn’t know me, I would make you fall in love with me all over again. Plus,” She looked to the side, a faint red blush on her cheeks. “I didn’t want you to feel lonely...”

You giggled at her embarrassment, opening your mouth to say something, but she cut you off quickly.

“We’re here.” She stopped in front of the doors, and you easily spotted Mikasa, Armin, and Jean already sitting inside at one of the tables, exchanging lighthearted banter.

“Hey Annie.”

“Hm?” She turned the knob of the door, stepping foot into the bustling room.

“Thanks for taking care of me.” You sighed, a small smile gracing your lips.

“Of course.” She smiled in return. “I’ll always be here for you.”

“Oi!” Jean shouted from across the room, and Armin immediately tried to shush his yelling, but he wasn’t phased. “Annie, Y/n, hurry up!”

You and Annie giggle at his boisterous attitude, walking over to find your seats.

“It’s been a while since we’ve seen you, Y/N.” Mikasa smiled warmly, tucking her scarf around her neck.

You smile at the three of them, looking so happy and peaceful. You’ve missed it.

“Yeah,” You laugh. “So, what did I miss?”

This feels badly written but I can’t place it, I dunno.

Probably ‘cause I wrote the first half like a month ago and only finished it today lol.

And no I totally didn’t reference someone else’s fic in this haha nope