#i imagined what link would think when he sits alone contemplating his arm that isn’t his

[daeyumi]

Reflections 🍂🌾

[Linktober 2022 Day 14: Withered]

[elysianslove]

shameful lust; suna rintarō

synopsis; he’s off limits in every way, but that only makes you want him more. based off of this, this, and this. the smut is inspired by my bunny anon’s birthday idea :) bunny, you know the one :)

pairings; brother’s bsf!suna rintarō x fem!reader

genre; porn with kind of plot lmfao

word count; 5.5k what the fuck??

trigger warning; age gap (not specified, & everyone’s 18+), masturbation, unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, humiliation, praise, mini panic attack, link for the lingerie (slight nsfw warning)

it started off innocent, as most things do. you were sixteen when you first felt the butterflies nestled deep in your stomach, the drop of your heart, the heat of your cheeks, only around him. you’d thought it was a natural reaction; after all, you’d known suna rintarō since, quite literally, forever, and you were a growing girl, hormones imbalanced and thoughts as confusing as ever. it was normal, completely ordinary to feel as nervous as you did whenever his hand so much brushed against yours, or whenever he’d barely glance your way to offer a small, teasing smile.

it meant nothing, of course. you were just a young girl, sixteen, desperate to lose yourself in some sort of fantasy. a silly crush on your brother’s best friend was nothing strange, and definitely inevitable.

it would go away.

you’re eighteen when the feelings don’t go away, and when they begin reshaping into more— impure thoughts. the more you see of him, the more hyperaware you grow of everything that he is. suddenly your eyes easily find the small strip of skin revealed when he stretches his arms up, and suddenly you can’t help but constantly think about the way he sits, legs spread so wide as if to... accommodate something. suddenly your thoughts always find their way back to the way he’d hugged you goodbye, arms squeezing you so tight to him, allowing you to feel every ridge and ripple of his muscles, and the way he had ruffled your hair and his hand, so large, so easily sinking into the strands— and you’re left wondering what else his fingers could do in your hair, to the rest of your body—

it’s bad. it’s really bad. every day you try and convince yourself it’s innocent, and every night you prove yourself wrong when you find yourself on your stomach, face buried in your pillow and teeth biting down on it, mouth dampening the cloth as your fingers rub harshly at your clit and sink into your dripping cunt— all with his name falling off your tongue as you heave and cry. every night you think about how much thicker his fingers are in comparison to yours, how much longer, how they’d feel inside of you, curling within you. you know he’s dexterous, insanely good with his hands. you’ve seen the way his fingers fly across a keyboard or tap urgently at a gaming console. you know it, and it in no way helps in calming your frustration.

it’s bad, of course, but you live with it. after all, he is in every way off limits. a lot older than you, and much more experienced, suna would have to lose his mind before he ever thinks of you the way you think of him. what would a girl like you have to offer a guy like him anyways? your shaky hands and clumsy mouth? your tight cunt that can barely fit two of your fingers? you’d only leave him unsatisfied, and leave yourself utterly humiliated.

worst of all, however, you can’t imagine how devastated, how betrayed, your brother would be if he’d caught you fooling around with his best friend.

so although you’re yearning to say fuck all and fuck him, you don’t, because it doesn’t make sense in the slightest for you to do so. you continue to make due with what shirtless image of him or that time he slept over and went commando, waking up at the same time you had and his — his dick was hard— you could see—

fuck.

you need to grow up.

as you sit with your back to your headboard, your knees bent up and swinging slightly, two simple knock erupt on your bedroom door. it’s late afternoon, the sun’s brightness dimming slightly, casting your room in an orange glow. in all honesty, it’s soothing.

looking up from your phone momentarily, you call out for the person knocking to come in, your eyes returning to your screen once more.

“hey.”

at the sound of the awfully familiar voice, your head snaps back up and you lock your phone, looking up with newfound excitement at the man standing at your doorway. “hi,” you return with a smile, sitting up and crossing your legs.

suna smiles back, walking into your room with one hand tucked behind his back. “your brother said i’d find you here,” he explains, walking towards you.

you quirk a brow, curiously and amusingly smiling as you ask, “whatcha got there?”

he’s quiet for a moment as he walks over to your side of the bed, maneuvering in a way that doesn’t reveal what he has hidden behind him. you twist around on your bed, leaning on your knees to face him properly, and it’s just when you lift up slightly to settle comfortably that he leans down, bends over to get close enough to whisper, “happy birthday, pretty girl.” he gives you not another moment to process how close his face is — how close his lips are to yours — before the hand behind his back comes around between you.

tucked in his hand is a medium sized bag, not related to any sort of brand, so you assume it’s a simple bag he’d gotten from a convenience store. that would really only mean one thing— that he’s gotten you more than just one gift. you can’t see what’s in it since there are colorful papers stacked within it, obstructing your view, but you’re still flustered at the mere thought he’d even considered to buy you a gift. it’s not unusual; suna, every year on your birthday, has gotten you a gift, yet it’s usually more so a gag gift than anything. some inside joke of yours, maybe he’d pay for your dinner, things like that. never a full on, thought out gift.

“you didn’t have to,” you say, settling back down on your knees and hesitantly taking the bag from him.

he waves you off, disagreeing. “course i did; you’re nineteen now.”

you roll your eyes. “wouldn’t eighteen be more special?”

“fine,” he decides, playfully taking the bag from your grasp and pulling it to him. “guess i’ll just give this to someone else then— maybe your mom—“

“suna!”

at your reaction, he laughs boisterously, and against all odds, you find yourself smiling too. quickly, you reach out for the bag again, pulling it back to you.

“open it when you’re alone,” he disclaims, almost as if in warning.

warily, you eye the bag.

“sure.”

you try to be quieter when unboxing suna’s gift, but the paper’s scrunching is just so damn loud. after cursing it out, you finally rid the bag of its first layer of paper, and are met with a scented candle and some lotion. basic, expected. there‘s a card there too, and when you open it, there’s a note in his messy handwriting, reading out a simple happy birthday— and a good couple of yens too. money, a candle, lotion.

so basic.

there’s still more paper beneath, but you don’t expect it to be for anything except decoration, not for—

what the fuck.

what the fuck.

What The Fuck?

your two hands dip into the bag, reaching out for the final gift, grabbing it by its straps and—

holy shit, he got you lingerie.

it’s so— sheer? you don’t think an inch of you will be properly covered, even with the lingerie on. it’s properly transparent, with only the intricate lace designs to modestly cover you. when you dig into the bag, you find the panties to match the bra and— well, it’s pretty, you can’t lie. there are dark, almost flowerlike designs all over, and it’s a deep black, nearly blue or green. there’s also a garter belt, but there aren’t any stockings in the bag to attach to the clips. maybe he’d expected you to take care of that?— ah no, you stand corrected. there are stockings.

fuck, he thought of everything didn’t he?

but more importantly, what the fuck does all of this mean?

burying the lingerie deep inside the bag again, and making sure to cover it up with the paper, thoroughly, you place the other gifts and the card back in and on top, before putting it aside on your bed.

and now, to gather your fucking thoughts.

you had to text him to thank him for the gift, obviously. but there was no way he’d accidentally misplaced the lingerie there. it was deliberately placed, with the way it was folded and tucked neatly, underneath an extra layer of paper above and beneath it? yeah, definitely on purpose. but— why? had he taken notice of your feelings towards him? was this his way of making fun or... reassuring you they were mutual?

god, what the hell are you thinking.

snatching your phone from your bedside table, you check the time.

2:01 a.m.

okay, everyone‘s bound to be asleep by now. hopefully. you eye the bag, so cautiously one would assume there’s some sort of killing machine within it. you contemplate. shake your head. no. the gears twist. yes.

no.

yes. no. yes. no—

fuck it, it’s yours anyways, isn’t it?

you snatch it loudly, rushing off to lock your bedroom door, then rushing to close the blinds, tightly, surely, then rushing to turn the lights off and turning the small lamp by your bedside on instead. what else are you meant to do with lingerie other than, well, put it on? it’s rational, you think, obvious.

it’s fine.

stealing one last, deep breathe, you dump the contents of the bag again, and pick out the lingerie.

it fits.

it fits perfectly.

the bra is snug against your chest, pushing at your breasts but not digging in uncomfortably. your nipples peak through what‘s revealed of the mesh, and when they stand perky and hard, you blame it on the fact that you‘re half naked. the garter belt wraps tightly around your waist, not squeezing to the point of discomfort and pain, but not loose that it’s a nuisance, and the clips that hang from it are attached to a pair of stockings that stop mid thigh, squeezing at the flesh. finally, a pair of panties rest on your cups, cupping your ass perfectly. it too is sheer, and god— you can see so much of you.

is this— what he would‘ve wanted?

you can’t deny that you do look good. it shows your figure off appealingly, and coupled with some dark lipstick, your messy hair, and the slightest smudge to your day’s eyeliner— would— would he have wanted you like this? all dolled up for him?

is this what suna likes?

doubting the fact that you’ll ever have the courage to put this set on again, you grab at your phone, clearing the area before your mirror, then sitting down at the edge of your bed. might as well enjoy it while it lasts, shouldn’t you? posing in the mirror, you appreciate the way you look, the way the dim lighting complements the atmosphere, the way the piece hugs your body and shows you off. you look so good.

so good— for him.

reveling in this surge of confidence, you snap a good amount of pictures, posing differently in each of them, taking them at different angles. your camera roll overflows with them, and as you fall back on the bed, hair splayed out on the mattress, you smile proudly at the pictures.

do you look good enough for him to see?

the thought strikes you suddenly; it tickles at the pit of your stomach, makes your knees bend and your toes curl.

should you?

the messenger app is open at the text messages between you and him before you can think, a picture of you uploaded and ready to send.

should you?

you tuck your lower lip between your teeth, mulling it over anxiously.

no, you most definitely shouldn’t.

quickly, you swipe out of the messenger app, and onto safari. porn it is.

you should‘ve turned the ac on. fuck, it’s hot.

3:10 a.m. 45 minutes since you’d put the lingerie set on and had your mini photoshoot, ten minutes since you’d started masturbating. everything’s still in place except for the garter clips, which have snapped off of your stockings at some point in the past few minutes, but you pay it barely any mind as your legs spread wider, one hand dipped beneath your panties, the other pressing hard against your mouth, trying to keep yourself quiet.

it’s not that you generally had a problem keeping down your noises. your home was constantly filled with people, and you’re almost always sexually frustrated at the most inconvenient times. this time, however, it’s different. it’s different because you’re wearing a lingerie set that suna picked out, that suna bought for you, that suna gave you himself. would he have wanted to watch you touch yourself like this, dressed up so pretty? or— would he have wanted to fuck you while—

shit, you’re gonna cum.

you let out a broken moan, bleeding into a desperate son, muffled barely your hand. your fingers fuck into your cunt faster, squelching lowly as you arch your back, pressing your palm harshly against your clit.

“ugh, hngh,” you whine, squeal, wrist aching. “fuck, rin— please—“

you’re so loud, shit, shit, shit.

beside you, your phone dings! loudly, alerting you of a message received, but you can’t stop, not when you’re so close. it dings again, and again, but you continue to ignore, chasing your own high so desperately, faster, faster, faster. the coil tightens, your body tenses, mind hazing over and eyes rolling back— so close, so fucking close.

“well aren’t you a doll.”

your eyes snap open, and you only manage one second to process who the fuck and what the fuck before your hips are trembling and twisting, and your legs are shaking so awfully as your back arches deep. the moment you hear his voice, so deep and clear, looming just by the edge of your bed where you lay spread, fucking yourself, you cum— and you’re convinced you have a humiliation kink. you didn’t cum because you’d simply been close— you came because you heard him catch you.

in your post orgasmic daze, you pant deeply, chest heaving, rising and falling rapidly as you try to catch your breath. your fingers pull back from your panties, falling to the bed, sticky and wet, while your other hand falls from from your mouth, drool and spit dripping from the corner of your lips.

“aw, you ruined the set.”

you sigh. “rin.” the way you say his name isn’t in a way that’s calling out for him, but neither are you scolding him nor brushing him off for teasing you. you’re just simply trying to process the fact that he’s here.

“i like it when you call me that,” he admits, and in a second he’s falling over you, hands bracing and steadying him beside your head, keeping himself hovering at a small distance. “why do you always insist on calling me suna?” he wonders, head tilting curiously.

blinking slowly, you breathe in, and out, and ask, “what are you doing here?”

above you, he shrugs. “you were the one that sent me those—”

immediately, you’re pushing him off you, sitting up all too quickly as you reach out for your phone. you shakily unlock it, typing in your password and opening the messenger app. he’s right— shit. you could’ve sworn you’d deleted the photo, because you’d explicitly decided just how stupid sending it would’ve been. 

well, look at you now. 

“that wasn’t— oh my god, i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to,” you stutter, turning your body towards him once more, but avoiding his gaze, your body, only barely having just cooled down, heating up once more. 

“oh?” he tests. “was it not meant for me?” 

“no, i—“ 

he’s smiling all too wide for him to not be getting off on your embarrassment. at the thought of that, your eyes unintentionally snap up to him, to his crotch, where beneath his sweats is a bulge, and god, it’s like all those nights ago where you’d seen his dick through his sweats and he’s big, he’s so big—

“just where do you think you’re looking?” he sneers, hand all of a sudden gripping your chin, tilting your head back up and forcing you to finally, for the first time, meet his eyes. they’re dark, almost sinister, as they narrowly glare at you, begging you for explanation. 

your mind’s no longer clouded over, all pleasure dissipating from your veins, pathetic humiliation replacing it. “i’m sorry,” you mewl, eyes tearing up at the look on his face. of course he was disgusted. just as your stupid crush on him was natural, so was his reaction. “i’m sorry, please don’t tell anyone,” you beg, lower lip wobbling. 

his grip on your chin tightens as he furrows his brows. “tell anyone?” he questions. “about what?” 

had he not— heard you? 

he says your name, firmly, deeply, in a way that has you stifling your sobs and biting your bottom lip to stop its quivering. patiently, you wait for him to speak, to say anything, until finally, he asks, “do you want me to fuck you?” and your heart stops. “yeah?” he continues, his other hand reaching for your wrist, your hand, the same one that’s still sticky with the evidence of you. slowly, as he brings his lips closer to yours, fingers slipping so that he’s squishing your cheeks tightly, he leads your hand to his crotch, to where his dick is painfully hard beneath his sweats. your initial touch is featherlight, and he doesn’t fully press your hand to his clothed cock, but still, just the smallest, tiniest feel of him has the lust in your veins thrumming alive. “you think you’d look pretty—” he pauses, lips hovering by yours, eyes searching for any sign of hesitance or resistance, “sitting on my cock?” 

“i’m sorry,” you apologize again, but he swallows it by finally, finally, pressing his lips to yours. his lips are so soft, softer than you’d imagined and fantasized a thousand times over, as they press against yours, managing to pull the softest moan of surprise and pleasure from you. you’d forgotten, in your moment of shame, just how much you’d craved suna rintarō. just how often you thought about him, those same fingers gripping your chin to be buried inside of you, those pretty lips sucking on your tits and clit. “want you so bad,” you hiccup, kissing him back. “so bad.” 

he hums, amused, pulling back. licking his lips with a grin, as if tasting you, his hands leave you entirely, reaching for the hem of his shirt as he lifts it up, freeing himself of the piece of clothing. “don’t you think i know, sweetheart?” he teases, daringly. at the sight of your eyes widening, he nods with a dramatized serious expression, tutting as he adds, “so dirty, thinkin’ ‘bout me like that.” 

you whine again, hands lifting up to obstruct your face from his view as you fall back on the bed, body bouncing slightly. “stop,” you plead, not for him to pull back but for him to stop reminding you of just how wrong it is to feel the way you do. still, you spread your sticky thighs for him when he presses his hands to your knees, and you shiver at the feel of his fingers tickling at your skin. “i’m sorry.” 

“that’s okay, pretty girl,” he reassures you, faux sweetness dripping like honey off his tongue. he leans in, carefully slow, hands following the curve of his body and yours. “i want you too.” he smiles mischievously, leaning close once more. “so bad,” he mimics you, lips hovering right above yours before he kisses you once more. you want to pinch his arm for outright mocking you, because really, how infuriating can he be? but it’s impossible to want to do anything but desire him in every possible way at the moment, especially when he presses himself harder against you, hips slotting between your legs and clothed cock brushing against your dripping panties. 

“rin,” you plead, hands clawing at his back, grasping at his shoulders. god, his skin is so warm. 

“yes?” he drawls, wet lips kissing the corner of your mouth, trailing easily to your jaw, and down to your neck. patiently, he waits for you to speak. 

with a trembling voice, you ask, “be quick. please.” 

a little stunned, suna pauses his ministrations at your neck, but it’s barely for a second. because moments later, he’s grinning sinisterly into the crook of your neck, sucking hotly as he replies, “sure thing.” 

you do want to take your time. you want him to stuff his face between your legs and sink his fingers so deep inside of you. you want him to force your mouth down on him, want to bury your face in your lap till you’re choking and gagging on his cock. you want him to take his time stretching you for his cock before he sinks inside of you, letting you feel every single inch and ridge of his dick until he bottoms out. you wish. you wish. 

but you’re desperate, and needy, and frustrated, and most of all, you’re not even sure if this is real. you’re scared to blink and have him disappear all of a sudden. you’re scared to wake up with soaked panties and no gift from suna, no suna above you, hard cock pressing against your cunt, only the same suna from all these past years, the same suna you pine over at a distance, wanting but never having. 

so you whimper so quietly, “be quick,” again, because he’s still too slow for your liking.

his fingers grasp the sides of your panties, pulling as quick as he can, sliding them down your thighs, watching as the cloth rolls at the urgency as it slides past your knees, your shins, your ankles, legs lifted high up. at the final loop around your right ankle, as suna flings it off, he kisses at your ankle, gripping it tightly and using it to spread your legs. 

as your legs spread, your pussy, soaking from both your past orgasm and this unbelievable build up, spreads too, glistening and dripping for him. his eyes easily fall to it, and, with that same glint in his eyes, he grins, and licks his lips again. “wish i could have a taste,” he admits to you, shuffling closer and bending your legs closer to your chest with one hand. the other hand frantically pushes at the hem of his sweatpants, tugging it low, beneath his balls. “god, i’d have you sit on my face for hours.” 

he’s going to kill you. 

he’s going to fucking kill you. 

at his words, your cunt pulsates and clenches tightly, hole glistening as you moan. you hope he doesn’t notice, but he does, somehow, and he laughs, too fucking loud. “you liked that, hm? bet you’d look so cute,” he spurs you on, and your entire body trembles. 

you wish to say something, to find the courage to belittle him, degrade him, remind him that if you’re in the wrong for wanting this then so is he, but it’s so hard to find your voice. it’s like he’s stupefied you completely, reduced you to this dumb, wordless, horny mess. god, fuck, it’s embarrassing. you can only watch with wide, tearful eyes and quivering lips and trembling legs as he spits on his hand and fists his cock, quickly, getting himself all nice and slick for you. his cock is— he’s so big, fuck. if you’d been shocked feeling him beneath his sweats, well, your entire body’s rigid with anticipation now. 

just as promised, suna’s quick. with one hand pressing and steadying firmly at your lower stomach, right by your hip, he guides his cock to your cunt with the other, wasting no time by pushing in. no way, no way, no fucking way. 

how is he fitting? 

“ease up,” he orders sharply, forcing more of himself inside of you.

in response, you bring both hands up to your mouth, clasping them tightly above your lips. you remaining quiet is as impossible as ever, with the way he’s stretching you so wide for him, so you press down harder with your hands and throw your head back as he sinks in deeper, and deeper. 

“aren’t a good girl?” he praises sweetly, his other hand mirroring the one on your hip. he watches as you lower your head again, lifting it up slightly to look between the two of you at where he’s fully bottomed out, buried deep inside of you. “feel good?” he wonders, even if he knows the answer. your head falls back again and you nod with your eyes squeezing shut. “feel so full, yeah?”  you’re glad he’s speaking for you, because you doubt you could find your voice at the moment, even if you tried. 

you nod again instead, urgently, just as he pulls out until only his tip remains inside of you, before pressing back in quickly, thrusting into you suddenly. the sight of him above you is better than anything your mind has ever made up, hands squeezing at your hips tightly, both ensuring you keep your legs spread for him and keeping himself up, steadying himself as he fucks into you. his arms bulge and the muscles in his abdomen tighten and tense with every thrust. his chest, so flushed red; his hair, a little sweaty, a little messy; his brows, furrowed deep in concentration; his lips, wet and red, so fucking red, his tongue jutting out slightly as he picks up the pace, as he thrusts faster, harder. 

and best of all: the noises he makes. he’s shameless, fucking into you with abandon, moaning and grunting and whining for you, like he’d been the one yearning, pining, and not you. and, you suppose, with the way he’s fucking into you right now, that there might’ve been some truth in his words, that he’s wanted you just as bad, that this wasn’t some pity fuck— poor little girl, his best friend’s sister, sending him lewd and inappropriate photos because she’s so desperate, she can’t help but lust after him, every single day. 

his hands squeeze even tighter and he grunts, gritting his teeth sharply. “fuck, m’already close,” he grunts, and somehow, that makes your heart swell, pride deepening. “cunt’s so fucking tight, shit.” you’re making him say those words, you’re going to make him cum so quick, it’s you. you. 

when his hands crawl up to your breasts, squeezing and kneading through the bra, your hands fall to his forearms, gripping so tightly and digging your nails into his skin. “please, please, please, cum inside,” you beg, trying to be as quiet as you can. “please rin, please.” 

the bed creaks with the effort and speed of his thrusts, your body bouncing as his cock fucks deep into your cunt. his head bows in, smooth hair swinging forward as he curses. “are you— hm..hngh—sure?” he asks, and you nod so rapidly you feel dizzy, arching your back as much as you can to get him deeper inside of you. he’s a mess of curses and pants as he fucks you even faster, one hand remaining at your breast, grasping tightly, the other lowering to your wet clit, rubbing furiously, messily, clumsily. 

no words are exchanged as he desperately circles your clit with the rough pads of his fingers, squeezing and kneading your breast as he angles his hips, trying to get you to cum before he does. and just as as before, just as he’d caught you earlier, your body starts to tense up, shaking in anticipation as your orgasm draws closer and closer.

but there’s something— different. 

“rin!” you yell out, still half-whispering in an attempt to keep quiet. your eyes well up as you call out for him again, your orgasm unbearably close. “rin, feels weird— oh m—”

he only just barely manages to shove his hand against your face before you’re screaming, throat aching and scratching as you thrash beneath him. around his cock, your cunt spams and clenches down tightly, cum splashing and spraying all over his lower stomach and past his cock to his balls. you’re still thrashing, still squealing and screaming, and he’s spilling inside of you, filling you up impossibly, his cum splashing and dripping as it mixes with yours. 

“holy shit,” he breathlessly marvels, hips still rocking and grinding against yours as he helps the both of you ride out your highs. “you ever—“ he steals in a breath, steadying himself slightly, “—cum this hard?”

you’re sobbing, hiccuping and mewling and whining and crying, your body impossibly sensitive. tears stream freely down your cheeks as you sink into the mattress, feeling quite literally like jelly. slowly, suna pulls his cock out, trying not to get distracted by the way your cunt squeezes out some of his cum, and instead focuses on you, his hands cupping your cheeks softly. 

“hey, hey, eyes on me,” he encourages, kneeling above you as his thumbs brush at your tears. 

“m’sorry, ri— suna,” you heave, hands grasping his as your eyes water again, fresh tears joining ones that are yet to dry. 

“what for, sweet thing?” he asks gently. when you start to lift yourself up, he leans back, sitting on your bed, giving you space to get comfortable. he watches with worried eyes as you furiously rub at your eyes with your palms and the back of your hands, as the tears never stop flowing. shit, did he fuck up somehow? he calls your name again, cautiously reaching out for you. when you don’t reject his touch, his heart settles, just a little. “tell me what’s wrong?” he offers again, and you sniffle. 

“are you not disgusted?” you ask, voice wobbly and cracking. 

his brows furrow, and he cocks his head. “because you... squirted?”

you slap at his arm with a roll of your eyes. “no, suna.” 

“when did i lose my first name privileges?” he asks, dramatically shocked. again, you roll your eyes. well, at least the tears have ceased. softening slightly, suna sighs. he’s shit at this. he’s worse than shit at this. talking in general? awful. talking about his or someone else’s feelings? he’s sure the devil would be better comfort. still, he can’t just— leave you. he’s sure that would make things a thousand times worse.

and honestly, neither does he want to leave you. 

“i can’t read your mind, pretty girl,” he reminds you, and momentarily, you look away. 

until you inhale sharply, and meet his eyes again. “it’s okay...” you begin, trailing off as you attempt to gather your words, before continuing, “that i feel this way for you?” 

at your words, at the much needed clarity, suna sighs in relief. so that was it. “more than okay,” he promises you. 

you nod in understanding, before prodding further, “not weird?” 

he thinks it over, before answering. if he’s honest with himself, the most he’d felt with you was sexual attraction. he liked the way your tits bounced when you ran to greet him or the press of your ass against his crotch when you passed by him to get somewhere. he liked— he liked thinking about your body, your lips, your hands. it’s why he sent you that lingerie set, the one that sits so pretty on your body right now. not that he’d been expecting you to send him anything, and he’d even anticipated that you might feel disgusted, might throw it in his face and slap him too. but he knew you better. suna was observant. he knew more than he let on, more than anyone could imagine. if he hadn’t realized your eyes on him in the past years, he must be blind.

still, he’s not sure if it was ever more, or if it is more. but, he supposes, it’s not an unimaginable feat. he thinks that maybe, there is a chance. he likes you, sure; you make his belly twist and his heart jump. but is he going to risk leading you on? 

he doesn’t know. 

he settles for, “good weird.” 

your face is the definition of a question mark. “what the hell is good weird?” 

“your face is good weird,” he retorts. it’s a bad comeback, terrible actually, but his face is flushing a dark red, and he needs to get away. you’re flustering him and it’s pissing him off. 

“that’s so mean!” 

yeah, the devil would’ve been better comfort. he wasn’t around though, so he made sure suna had been sleeping over that night instead. 

worked in your favor didn’t it? 

end note; my godddddfhksfhbskjbsb ,,, sorry if you found mistakes this took me all day and im not assed to proofread <//3 but i hope you liked regardless!! 

[cacoetheswriting]

champagne problems, epilogue

Epilogue: Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby: The beginning of the end. A/N: chapter is titled after this song if you want to listen while reading. Word Count: 1.3k Warnings: brief mentions of alcohol consumptions, other than that just a big ball of FLUFF !

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A/N: holy shit, this is the end!!! i had so much fun writing this little series, but it wouldn't have been the same without all of you reading, so seriously thank you! now, if anyone on the story taglist would like to be moved to my general spencer reid taglist just let me know, other than that i hope you enjoy this very last chapter!

-

Ever since you were little, you dreamt of your wedding day.

The elegant white dress you would wear, the way you’d style your hair, how your dream venue would look, the perfect guest list, the flowers, the track list, and of course, your husband to be.

You imagined he’d be handsome, a prince to accompany your dream of becoming a princess. You imagined he’d be smart, trustworthy, courageous, and caring. You imagined he’d be funny, make you laugh even when you didn’t want to smile. You imagined he’d be a great listener and have a heart of gold. And you imagined he would always put you first, no matter what.

Dr. Spencer Reid, your husband, was everything you imagined and so much more.

“I believe it was Paulo Coelho who once said, Love is just a word. Until someone comes along and gives it meaning.” All eyes were on Rossi, who with a glass of champagne in the air was delivering a speech he swore he hadn't prepared prior to this moment, “Now, when Y/N and Spencer broke the news and told the team they were finally tying the knot, I personally couldn't have been more thrilled.”

Everyone nodded along to his words as he continued, “And I think I speak for everyone gathered here today when I say these two are made for each other.”

Rossi glanced between the tables until his gaze finally landed on you and the brunette doctor beside you. “To the bride and groom. Cheers!”

“Cheers!” The gathered crowd erupted simultaneously, and what followed was the loud clinking of glasses.

You turned to face Spencer. The hazel-eyed man was already looking at you, a warm smile circling his lips.

“Cheers, my husband.” You lifted your champagne flute a little higher, as he chuckled lightly before following suit, “Cheers, my wife.” Without breaking eye contact, the two of you chinked your glasses together and took a sip of the bubbling liquid.

The evening slowly turned into night. Dozens of tiny fairy lights illuminated the venue, accompanied by the shimmering hue of the disco ball in the middle of the dance floor. Not a single body was sitting down. Everyone swayed to the music, rejoicing in the love which was so clearly floating in the air.

Spencer had his arms wrapped around you, the palms of his hands resting on your lower back. Your arms were around his neck, tips of your fingers tangling in the ends of his soft curls.

The song currently playing was quite fast, but neither of you were particularly keen on the comforting embrace ending - even though you had the rest of your lives to hold each other.

Next to the two of you, on your left, Emily and Tara were jumping around to the beat of the music, while JJ filmed them. Rossi and Will observed the spectacle with drinks in hand and loudly cheered the ladies on. On your right, Penelope was engaged in a dance battle with Derek - one she was undoubtedly winning. Matt, Kristy, and Savannah watched the pair in fits of laughter. And all of the kids ran circles around the gathered group, playing a game of tag with Luke.

“What’s on your mind?” Spencer questioned quietly, after noticing the look of contemplation gracing your features.

“Hmm... I’m just trying to remember the last time we were all together, and this... carefree.” You replied, meeting the ever so welcoming hazel gaze of your husband.

Spencer smiled softly at your response. “Well, we’re here now.” He simply stated, and you couldn't help but playfully roll your eyes.

“You know what doctor, for an extremely outspoken man, and one who seemingly possesses more knowledge than all of us here tonight, you can be very cryptic sometimes.”

“I have to keep a few things to myself, otherwise you'd loose interest in me.” He joked with a chuckle.

The comment earned him another eye roll. You moved one hand from behind his neck and lifted it in between you, curling all fingers inwards apart from the ring finger. His gaze travelled to the notion and the grin on his face widened, because he knew what you were about to say.

“I’m stuck with you now, forever and ever and ever, whether I loose interest or not.” You teased. Spencer’s hand found yours and he brought the finger to his mouth, before pressing a soft kiss to the ring.

“I wouldn't dream of being stuck with anyone else.” Spencer proclaimed, and proceeded to attach his lips to yours in a blissful exchange of breaths. The kiss was short and sweet. Similar to many you’ve shared before, yet different at the same time. Better almost, because he was no longer just Dr. Spencer Reid, he was your Dr. Spencer Reid, and you were now Mrs. Reid.

“I love you, my husband.” You muttered against his lips after pulling away. He smiled, “And I love you, my wife.”

Spencer spun you around once, causing a light giggle to escape you, before he pecked your lips again.

“May I steal her for a moment?” It was Luke who asked, appearing beside the two of you almost out of breath.

“The kids really wore you out, huh?” You teased as Luke smirked, “Oh definitely! Which is why I’d like a dance with the lovely bride so I can compose myself.” He extended his arm and you linked yours with ease.

Shooting Spencer a smile, you disappeared into the crowd with Luke. The doctor watched you for a moment, once again wondering how the hell he got so lucky, when his thoughts were interrupted by a clearing of the throat. He turned his head to find your dad also looking in your direction.

“She’s beautiful, isn't she?” Your dad asked.

“Extremely.” Spencer whispered back, loud enough for Anthony to hear.

The older gentleman shifted in his position, facing Spencer completely. “Thank you.” Anthony stated and extended his arms to wrap them tightly around Spencer. “Thank you for keeping an eye on her, son.”

“I’ll continue to do so for the rest of my life. Nothing’s gonna hurt her ever again, sir” Spencer replied, before quickly correcting himself, “Anthony.”

The older man chuckled lightly as he pulled away. He straightened his tie and proceeded to place his hands on Spencer’s shoulders. “I’ve wanted to say this for quite some time now.” He paused briefly. “Call me dad, son.”

The unexpected request caused the smile on Spencer's face to widen ever so slightly. He didn’t waste time to nod his head in agreement and with one last hand shake, he observed Anthony make his way through the bodies and steal you from Luke for a dance of his own.

Spencer’s heart soared as he watched you sway to the music. In this moment, he was glad he had an eidetic memory that would allow him to remember this sight forever. How filled with joy you seemed, and how ethereal you looked in your white wedding dress under thousands of fairy lights.

Your eyes locked with his amid the celebrating crowd. Amid the off-key singing and crazy dancing. Amid the drinking and loud cheering. Amid every single person that was currently partying between you and Spencer. When his hazel gaze found yours, it felt as if there was no-one else present.

And you were suddenly filled with immense gratitude for everything that has happened since you met the handsome doctor. Grateful for every single step which lead to this very this very moment. Grateful for him, for Spencer.

Your husband.

Today was like any other day.

You woke up at your usual time to the sound of your alarm. You had coffee, and a quick bite to eat while aimlessly scrolling through the social media apps on your phone. You showered, brushed your teeth, got dressed, did your makeup. And when it was time to leave, you walked out the front door locking it behind you, hopped in your car, and drove to work.

Today was like any other day. Except that it wasn’t.

Today wasn’t like any other day because while you carried out all of your menial morning tasks, you felt a great deal happier. Because you weren't doing them alone, and with Spencer by your side, you won't ever have to again.

You finally found your happily ever after.

-

A/N: from the bottom of my heart thank you for your continuous support and going on this journey with me. with love, mal. x

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story taglist: @girloncorneliastreet, @haylaansmi, @rexorangecouny, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @aperrywilliams, @sassy-hades, @rainsong01, @reverdevivre, @dracomikaelson, @softieekayy, @lunaofcrows, @andrewhoezierbyrne​, @blameitonthenight21, @lyl-26, @do-yr-research, @nazifa94, @stepsofthefbi, @chatterbug2-0, @calm-and-doctor, @halseysunset, @ellesgreenaway, @chipot-lol, 

tags not working: @radtwinkie

[babyybitchhhwrites]

Shikaku x Reader 18+

Title: Bound 

Words: 6110

Rating:  Explicit/R-18+

Warnings: Cheating,extramarital affairs, older man/younger woman, boss/employee relationship, light bondage, oral sex, office sex

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25721392

♥♥♥♥

Shikaku was halfway through the door with a neat stack of papers under his arm and a steaming mug in hand when he looked up and saw you sitting on his desk. He gave the faintest jolt of surprise, catching himself just a moment too late to stop the impulse altogether. The quiet splatter of coffee hitting the hardwood floor resounded off the walls, making you smile, and he pinned you with an unamused scowl in response. 

“Should I even ask what you’re doing here at this hour?” He grumped. 

You made a show of crossing your legs, one over the other with your knee propped skyward. His gaze didn’t so much as falter when it caused the hem of your skirt to ride higher up the plush swell of your thigh and you couldn’t help thinking that was very gentlemanly of him. 

“I’m sure it will please you to know I’m here for a very good reason.” You quipped, watching him maneuver around the spill. “Unless of course you don’t want to hear my report while it's still fresh in my mind.” 

“Still fresh, huh?” Humming distractedly, Shikaku crossed the room to stand in front of the desk where he methodically started depositing his items onto the smooth oak surface. Coffee first, in the exact same spot he always put it as evidenced by the barely noticeable water stain circles he discreetly covered up with the mug, and then his paperwork which he took the time to casually straighten before stepping around to the other side. 

It was as if you weren’t even sitting there, looking for all the world like a queen on her stately throne, and you twisted to peer over your shoulder when he stooped to pull out some napkins from a bottom drawer. He gave off the impression of a man comfortably alone when he shuffled back the way he’d just come to clean the mess you’d (inadvertently) caused which might have otherwise perturbed you but in this case, it didn’t. Not when he was the one pointedly acting like you didn’t even exist.

Taking the opportunity, you appreciatively studied Shikaku’s trim figure as he knelt to mop up the coffee before it could seep in and make the wood permanently sticky. He didn’t look like much of a threat at first glance but, to be fair, none of the Nara really did. It was no doubt a hard lesson many enemy nin have had to come to terms with in their final moments alive and you couldn’t say you envied them very much. This was the one person you’d never want to find yourself facing off against on the battlefield. 

Even someone as infamously horrible as Orochimaru was preferable to the Jounin commander. That shadow binding technique of his was bad enough on its own but, taking into consideration all the mind games he could torture you with before finally delivering the killiing blow, there was no way you’d ever willingly go up against him. Such hubris would have been the very definition of a fool's errand.  

He stood then, not quite snapping you out of your thoughtful haze all the way, and you numbly watched as he walked over to deposit the soggy napkins into a trash bin in the corner. Tracing his steps back to the door again, he pulled it shut and reached for the lock. Your brows quirked up at the click of the bolt echoing through the room. 

“If you’d wanted to give a fresh report,” Shikaku intoned, turning to face you again. “I think you would have swung by my office when you first returned from the mission. Not hours later.” 

You offered him a sheepish little grin, valiantly fighting down the swelling butterflies in your stomach. “You knew when I got back?” 

“There isn’t much in this village that escapes my notice. I’d suggest keeping that in mind.” 

The note of warning in his gruff voice did not fly under your radar but any bite it may have held seemed to dampen when you caught the roguish curve of his mouth. He was merely teasing you in his own peculiar way. It didn’t exactly seem light and playful unless you were intimately familiar with the man and you imagined not many people ever got to see this side of him - and if they did, his intentions were always undoubtedly misconstrued. Everyone seemed to be under the impression that Shikaku was a no nonsense hard ass but you knew better. 

Uncrossing your legs in favor of swinging them over the side of the desk, you cocked your head to one side when he moved to step across the room again. “So you didn’t ask the other Jounin to keep an eye on me then? Consider me hurt, commander.” 

He snorted a good natured laugh. “If I did ask them to keep tabs on you, it wouldn’t be for the reason you’re thinking. Nice try, though.”

You turned to watch your boss lower himself into the chair behind the desk, curiosity piqued. “What other reason could there possibly be, Shikaku-taicho?”

A sharp brow quirked in your direction at that question. “Do you want an alphabetized list or should I give it to you in ascending order? You’re trouble, sweetheart. You know that.”

Excited heat crept across your face before you could stop it. “You like it though.” 

“There are a lot of things in this world that I like,” Shikaku sighed, dropping his gaze to the topmost sheet of paper in the stack. “But I can’t say trouble is one of them.”

“Liar.” 

Dark, pinpoint eyes slowly lifted to meet your gaze. He regarded you for a long, contemplative moment before dropping the expenditure form he’d picked up back to the top of the pile. Reclining into the chair with a quiet creak, he brought his hands together and laced long, elegant fingers over his stomach. You held your breath and squeezed your thighs together in anticipation, waiting for the pin to drop. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a woman call me that before. Least of all one who’s half my age and working directly under me.” 

Pussy fluttering at the unmistakable suggestion, you drew a steadying breath. “I’d like to be under you right now.” 

A low chuckle rumbled up from deep within his chest. “What did I just tell you? Trouble.” 

“Is that permission to proceed?” 

Shikaku glanced at the stack of paperwork again and slowly shook his head. “As tempting as that is …” 

Pausing, he turned his head and sent a casually appraising look over the meat of your thighs. The plump swell of your ass perched on the edge of his desk. The fact he didn’t even try to conceal his interest made goosebumps erupt across your body and you attentively sat up a little straighter, showing him that he had your full attention. 

“As tempting as you are in that tight little skirt, which I’m sure you didn’t put on just to pay me a visit, I have a lot of work to finish up here. I do have to get home at some point, you know.” 

A tinge of jealousy flashed through you, smothering your arousal by some margin. “Is your wife expecting you?” 

He nodded almost imperceptibly. “I promised I’d help with Shikamaru tonight. He’s got an ear infection and if you thought he was whiny with a clean bill of health, you’d want to tear your own hair out now. The kid hasn’t stopped crying since yesterday morning.” 

“Poor baby.” You cooed, faintly smiling at the thought of the pouty little boy that looked so much like his father. He had the same sharp features and smooth jaw structure that Shikaku did but Yoshino’s big, doe-like eyes. You wondered, not for the first time, what he would’ve looked like with yours. “I hope he makes a speedy recovery. You deserve to relax when you’re at home.” 

Shikaku laughed, very softly. “I’m sure you’d rather have me relaxing with you.” 

“I can’t deny that.” You admitted, sliding down off the desk to stand on your feet. “But it is what it is. You’ve got your obligations and I’ve got mine. Nothing we can do about it now.” 

“And what obligations do you have?” He chortled. 

You spun around to face him, allowing a sly smirk to play at your lips as you rounded the corner of the desk. “I’ve got plenty and I’ll have you know they’re all very important.”

“Would you care to humor me with an example then?” 

Leaning down, you gripped the stiff armrest and used it as leverage to swivel him around to face you. Shikaku permitted it, unsurprisingly. He looked more curious than anything else and when you placed your palms on his bent knees, his expression shifted towards wry amusement. 

“If you’re trying to persuade me into giving you what you want, it’s not going to work. I made a promise.” 

“I know.” You murmured, trying to pretend like the ache in your chest was imagined and not real. There was nothing you wouldn’t give the man sitting before you though, even if it meant ignoring your own feelings, and you slowly lowered yourself to kneel on the floor between his legs. “All I want is to help you however I can, Shikaku. You can still do your paperwork while I do this, can’t you?” 

You could clearly see the war waging behind his eyes. It wasn’t hard to miss. He was sifting through an assortment of conflicting emotions, torn between his commitment to an arranged marriage you suspected he’d never wanted in the first place and what his heart yearned for. There was a family at home waiting for him; a toddler he’d give his own life for in a heartbeat and a wife he’d do the same for because duty demanded it. And then there was you. Right in front of him, ready and waiting. Willing to give him whatever he might ask of you without expecting anything in return except some of his time. 

It wasn’t exactly fair to him, making him choose like this. But it wasn’t fair to you either. Maybe you should have never gotten involved with a married man like Shikaku in the first place but it was much too late for that now. You were just as aware of that as he was. 

The moment his resolve weakened and crumbled flashed across his ruggedly handsome face like a neon sign, as clear as day, and you knew you’d won. Maybe not the war, but this battle at least was yours. 

Licking your lips, you reached up to fumble with the front of his pants. Button first, zipper second. It’s slow descending zrrrt made molten heat pool in your gut, and you squirmed in eager excitement when he shifted in the chair to help you slide them along with his underwear a quarter of the way down his hips. They were lean and trim; tantalizingly firm under your palm when you reached up to brace one hand on the smooth expanse of skin while the other pushed at the bulk of his Jounin vest to bunch it around his middle. 

Shikaku’s cock twitched in the open air and stirred. Your mouth watered at the sight of it, just a shade darker than the rest of his warm complexion and so torturously inviting it took everything you had not to swallow him down your throat right then and there. But you weren’t keen on rushing this, not when it meant prolonging your time together just that much more. Instead, you leaned forward to nuzzle the stiffening length and take a deep, savory breath of his scent. Clean and musky with a faint curling note of salty sweat that made your pussy ache for him. 

“Little minx.” 

Roving your attention up, you peered into his expression. The ready arousal you saw staring back at you prompted a smile to curl your lips even as you rubbed your cheek against his growing erection like a cat marking its territory. Shikaku was unlike any other man you’d ever known. Those sharp features and jagged scars, the perpetually grumpy draw of his brows, the well groomed beard and frown lines. He was unfairly good looking in any setting no matter how mundane, but he was exceptionally attractive like this when he allowed himself to relax and give in to pleasure. The uncontested aura of authority that seemed to permeate the air around him only became more pronounced when you were kneeling at his feet like this, igniting a deep seated need in your subconscious to submit to him. There was no question who was really in charge here. 

“You like it.” You said again, pressing a brief kiss to the shaft. 

Shikaku reached down and buried one of his hands in your hair. “Yes, I do.” 

Humming faintly when he curled his fingers against your scalp, you slipped your tongue out to take a tentative kitten lick at the thick vein on the underside. The silky smooth texture of him coupled with the faintest bitter tang went straight to your pussy and you let out a soft sigh. Shikaku relaxed further into the chair, tipping his head back to rest against the backrest. His fingers stayed locked where they were but he didn’t try to tug you into action while you took your time peppering the length of his cock in fleeting butterfly kisses, pausing here or there to mouth at him. He also didn’t make a move to turn his attention back to the paperwork laid out before him though and you considered that another small victory. The longer he focused on you, the longer you’d get to stay with him. 

You licked your lips and nuzzled into the wiry thatch of hair at the base of his groin, inhaling another deep whiff of Shikaku’s masculine scent. It was dizzyingly erotic to you, the very smell of him igniting flames deep within the pit of your gut. You couldn’t get enough of him. The need to taste every inch of the commander's flesh was as overpowering as it was urgent, your breath coming a little faster as you pecked your way down to his balls. 

Pubic fuzz gave way to yet more impossibly soft skin and you just barely caught the quiet exhale he issued when you flicked the left teste with your tongue. Lifting your eyes, you looked past the now straining erection jutting proudly up at the ceiling and higher still until you could lock eyes with him. Shikaku was watching you with a silent sort of anticipation that made your heart flutter. He was so handsome. 

“I love your cock.” You murmured against his ball sack. 

“Do you now?”

Smiling, you lifted your hand to wrap your fingers around the hard girth, lightly clasping and stroking him in taunting slow motion. He didn’t seem to mind and merely readjusted his grip on your hair. Still just holding on to you. A silent reminder that he could all too easily take the reins if he felt so inclined. It was heady and intoxicating, just like the smell of him. You idly wondered if Yoshino was even aware how lucky she was to have him before quickly smothering the thought. This was not the time to dwell on such an unpleasant topic and, suppressing a disconcerted shudder, you opened your lips wide to suck the right teste into your mouth. 

A low hiss filtered through the room, cut short. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you …” He said quietly. 

You spent a prolonged moment massaging the weight of his ball with your tongue, rolling it back and forth and suckling at the globular flesh. Shikaku was a mouthful and when you pulled off him a moment later with an accompanying dull pop, a glistening string of spittle followed. The wrinkled flesh shone wetly in the overhead light as you sat back on your haunches to look up at him. Still slowly pumping his cock. Mouth flushed and clinging to the cobwebs connecting you to his body. Eyes shining in lust and coy adoration alike. 

“You could fuck me.”

Shikaku took one look at you and promptly groaned. “Get up.” 

You blinked. “What?”

“Up.” He said again, gesturing you to your feet. 

Confusion settled in but you acquiesced. He reached forward and hooked his hands under your armpits as you rose, barely giving you enough time to steady yourself before hauling you up to stand. Shikaku followed, his pants rustling softly when they shifted further down his bare thighs. His hold tightened and lifted, plopping you down on the edge of his desk without a word of explanation. 

You started to get the picture when he gathered up his neat stack of papers and deposited them into his now vacant chair though. Smiling slyly, you licked your lips and watched Shikaku pluck the coffee mug from the desk, turning to deposit it somewhere else. His office was the very definition of minimalist though so he had to settle with placing it on the floor near the wall where it would be out of the way.

He turned back to you and shuffled close again, his hard cock bouncing with each step. “Lie down.” He rumbled, stooping to shove his pants and underwear down to his ankles.

“Oooh, what are you going to do to me, commander?” You purred and obediently drew your legs up. With a twist of your butt, you reclined back on top of the desk and stretched your arms above your head in a coquettish display that you hoped he’d find too tantalizing to resist. 

To your delight, Shikaku allowed himself a brief moment to appreciatively drag his gaze across your body. You didn’t miss that he paused on your chest and again on the swell of your thighs. And then, so abruptly it actually caught you off guard, he smirked. 

An icy chill ran through you but before you could even think to question him, he lifted his hands and brought them together at chest level. The signs he weaved went by in a blur and you just barely recognized them for what they were seconds before serpentine like shadows erupted out from under the desk. One wrapped itself around your wrists and effectively bound them together while two more latched onto your ankles and pulled. You yelped in surprise, instinctively struggling against the ironlike shackles, but you were altogether helpless to stop it as they stretched you out spread eagle on the desk. Your face burned with something not entirely dissatisfied when you realized what he was doing.

“S - Shikaku-taicho!” 

“There, don’t you look pretty like that?” He said lightly, clearly pleased as he dropped the hand signs used to invoke the frightening jutsu. The shadows stayed though, a testament to his mastery of the clans formidable technique, and you sucked in a sharp breath when he reached out to brush your cheek with the backs of his knuckles. 

“That’s not fair …” You whined, trying in vain to arch up off the desk. 

He cocked a taunting brow. “It’s not? But you look so good like this, sweetheart.” With a simple twist of his wrist, Shikaku’s thumb found your lips and you readily opened your mouth. The calloused digit slipped past your teeth, finding your tongue and tenderly caressing the flat of it with light circles. “Perfectly ripe and all mine for the taking. I thought you’d be happy about this. Aren’t you getting what you wanted?” 

You responded with an enthusiastic suck on his thumb, undulating your tongue to bathe the rough pad of his finger in attention. The corner of his mouth hitched in amusement, a fond glint in his dark eyes. 

“Spoiled.” Shikaku murmured, drawing his gaze lower.

He set his sights on your top first and, with a few tugs, the material came loose for him. You moaned softly around the finger in your mouth, trying to tuck your chin down to see what he was doing but it was no use. The shadows had you pulled so taut that there was no wriggle room to work with and all you could do was lie there, feeling the cool air lap at exposed skin and listening to the quiet rustle of fabric. 

Taking his time, Shikaku traced the lacy cups of your bra and teased over your nipples. He was doing it on purpose and you groaned when they started to pebble and peak under the stimulation. Your breath came even quicker some moments later when he finally zeroed in on the front clasp you’d hoped would come in handy but you honestly hadn’t expected that wish to come to fruition quite this way. He’d never used his jutsu on you before.

“Very nice choice for tonight.” 

Flicking the little latch open, he reverentially pushed the cups aside and you trembled when your nipples instantly puckered in the open room. You shifted, trying once again to free yourself of the shadows hold, but it was no use. They were as solid as flesh and bone, and ten times stronger than any normal man. You were completely at his mercy like this and you keened around the thumb in your mouth when he lightly took one of the stiff nubs between his fingers. 

Carefully tweaking it to the point of the near discomfort, Shikaku only switched to the other once you started to whimper at the friction. He repeated the process and then switched back to the first. Over and over again until you were twisting in high strung agony. Your pussy was soaked and you could hardly think straight anymore but he seemed content to gag you with his finger for the foreseeable future. The spit pooling in the back of your throat threatened to choke you and you forcibly swallowed, reveling in the low sound of approval he issued in response. 

You squirmed when he released your straining nipple, bracing for him to attack the other in similar fashion, only to go ramrod stiff when he reached further down instead. Breath catching, you wiggled your hips and strained against the jutsu, wanting to jut your cunt up to meet him halfway. Shikaku merely smoothed the rough palm of his hand down your thigh though, pausing to squeeze the doughy soft flesh before sliding back up. His hand slipped under your skirt now, fingertips dancing along the hem of your panties to make your pussy clamp down on nothing in sporadic pulses. 

“Pleese …”

“Hm?” Turning his face towards yours, Shikaku fixed you with an infuriatingly innocent look. “What do you need, sweetheart? Tell me.”

Screwing your eyes shut, you bucked into his hand with a softly keening moan. He laughed in response, the sound so breathy and dark that it had you clenching all over again. A soft whimper bubbled to life in your throat and you tossed your head against the desk, trying not to think about how close he was to touching your sopping wet pussy. You couldn’t take much more of this. 

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”

You opened your eyes just enough to pin him with a flat look. 

Another deep, masculine chuckle rumbled out of him and, keeping his attention on your face, Shikaku curled his fingers inward to tease the apex of your slit. The fleetingly brief contact had you going ramrod stiff with a subdued jolt. Your lashes fluttered and you groaned around his finger, twitching when he pushed directly on that sensitive pleasure button to rub it teasingly slow. White hot static lit up throughout your lower body, making your pussy flutter eagerly at the friction. It was so easy to lose yourself under Shikaku’s ever watchful eye, especially since he seemed to know your body like the back of his own hand. Every erogenous zone, every embarrassingly receptive pressure point, what speed and amount of force he needed to exert. He had it all mapped out and there was nothing you could do to stop the steadily building pressure even if you’d wanted to. 

“Nngha …!”

“There.” He said in such a hushed tone you almost missed it. “How does that feel?”

You offered a halted nod of your head, basking in the sensation. 

“Good. Now finish what you started.” 

The thumb in your mouth pulled, hooking into the inside of your cheek, and you obediently turned your head under Shikaku’s guidance. He shuffled a little closer then, leaving his arm stretched down the length of your body so he could continue massaging your slick cunt while he nudged his cock towards your mouth. You swallowed hard at the sharp bolt of arousal that shot through you as you struggled to crane your neck around and catch the head of him between your lips. The salty bitterness of precum overwhelmed your tongue in an instant and you groaned, eyes rolling in carnal bliss. 

“Good girl … just like that.” 

Closing your eyes, you twisted your upper body so you could take more of him into your mouth. It was a crowded fit with his thumb still hooked in your cheek, not to mention an uncomfortable stretch for your neck, but you were hardly in any position to complain. He was absolutely right. You were getting exactly what you’d wanted and you couldn’t have been any happier about that.

Your pussy clenched eagerly as you bobbed your head forward and pulled him in as deep as you could. A soft whine clawed at your throat when you realized you could only make it about half of the way down his shaft before the shadows binding your arms halted your progress. There wasn’t enough leverage for you to lean in and swallow him straight down to the base like you wanted but something about having to work for it lit up a competitive spark within your chest. If Shikaku wanted to test you in this fashion then so be it. You would certainly make every attempt to rise to the occasion, at least. 

“Nngh …” He groaned quietly when you sealed your lips around him and noisily slurped. “Your mouth feels so good, baby. You like sucking on my cock, don’t you?” 

Awkwardly nodding, you strained to take another inch or so and it was almost enough to have him tickling your tonsils. You swallowed hard, hips twitching under the steady ministrations of his fingers as you lifted your tongue to lav the underside of him in attention. Tracing the thick vein upward, you swirled it around the glans and prodded his slit. More bitter pre cum oozed out, rewarding you for your efforts, and you moaned at the taste of him. That alone could send you into a wild frenzy, like an animal mindlessly desperate for release, but his cursed shadows hadn’t let up at all. Shikaku was a formidable opponent indeed.

“Look at me, sweetheart. Let me see those pretty eyes.”

Obediently, you slid your gaze up to meet his and a fresh wave of arousal washed over you. With his brows drawn in concentration and his lips parted on a quiet exhale, the Jounin commander was the very definition of testosterone fueled desire. Not only did he enjoy playing this game but he wanted you. Not any of the other shinobi working under his command nor any of the civilian women. Not the wife he had waiting for him at home. No one else. Just you. 

Sucking in a sharp breath through your nose, you arched on top of the desk fervently enough to make your spine pop. It served its purpose though and you weakly canted your pelvis against his hand, as much as the unforgiving shadows would allow. Shikaku grunted softly in response and pushed down on your clit a little harder, rubbing you a little faster. The sharp friction had the muscles in your thighs jumping as you squirmed, struggling to keep your eyes open and locked on his face. Every nerve ending in your body was starting to vibrate with the building pressure in your loins, promising the inevitable absolution of release. You were getting close. 

He seemed to realize it at the same time you did though and his fingers retreated, much to your groaning disappointment. Shikaku gave the inside of your cheek a chiding tug to keep you focused on the task at hand and you shuddered when he unceremoniously flipped your skirt up. You issued a wet, faltering groan as the rough pads of his fingers danced across your lower belly before slipping into the band of your underwear. Digits curling, seeking, he dipped his pointer finger between the meat of your labia and reached further back to prod your entrance with a satisfied growl.

“So wet for me … do you like being on the receiving end of my technique that much, sweetheart? Hm?”

You flexed your limbs and moaned in response, feeling the slick trail of saliva oozing from the corner of your mouth to pool under your cheek. It was rapidly cooling in the air and a tremor raced through you when he smeared the sticky arousal gushing from your entrance up to your clit. Using it as a surprisingly effective lubricant, Shikaku started grinding tight circles around the sensitive nub with just enough force to leave you shaking like a leaf under his attention. Your breath caught and you went ramrod stiff, uselessly trying to brace yourself against the staggering pressure. His attack on your body was a concerted and precise one though and you finally had no choice but to toss your head back and suck in a much needed lungful of air. 

“Aahh - aaahhhnn! Sh - Shika -”

The thumb in your mouth abruptly retreated so he could put the flat of his palm on the back of your head and push you down onto his cock again with an accompanying gurgle on your part. “I didn’t say you could stop, did I?” He rumbled in a voice noticeably thicker than usual. 

Toes flexing, you forced your jaw to relax when he pushed his hips forward and Shikaku’s hard length surged towards the back of your throat. The spit running down the side of your face became thicker, bubbling out around him while he paused long enough to find a satisfying rhythm on your clit before pulling back. His first real thrust into your mouth was slow and borderline sensual, almost as if he were making love to you, but the pace quickly picked up. In and out, in and out until he was well and truly fucking into you, the obscene gargling sounds coming from the depths of your salivating mouth ringing loud in the otherwise silent room.

It was all you could do just to keep breathing through your nose as you reeled under the intense onslaught of stimulation. Your pussy throbbed in warning and you keened, eyes rolling into the back of your head. The calloused pads of his fingers were as delightful as they were torturous on your petal soft inner folds and it didn’t take long at all for the friction to become unbearable. You were going to cum. The pressure was reaching the tipping point and the heavy weight of his hand on your skull, the driving force of his cock jabbing towards your constricting throat only heightened the tingling shockwaves of ecstasy. You were going to cum and Shikaku knew that. 

“Let it go, baby.” He gritted out. “Keep my cock in your mouth and cum.”

You tensed at his command, straining so hard against the shadows on your wrists and ankles that your muscles started to ache in protest. It was much too late though and you shattered with a strangled shriek, screwing your eyes shut as you tried to pull back. He kept you right where you were though, his palm pressed flush against your head and his fingers rubbing your spasming cunt in quick, jerky swipes. You jolted on top of the desk, letting the crashing waves of euphoria swallow you up, and unabashedly wailed around the cock thrusting into your mouth. 

“Shit. That’s it. Keep cumming. You want to swallow my load, don’t you?”

The breathy lilt to Shikaku’s rough voice added onto the palpable memory of him shooting thick ropes down your throat made you shudder so violently that your first orgasm bled seamlessly into another. It hit you like a sack of bricks, threatening to bowl you right over as you twisted and writhed as much as his jutsu would permit. High strung tears pricked your lash line, every muscle in your body singing in rapture when he refused to let up the grinding pressure on your clit. He was milking the pleasure out of you the way only he was capable of and you let out a muffled, wordless cry of distress as his hips began to stutter. 

“Here it comes, baby. Get ready.” He seethed through gritted teeth, clutching the back of your head so tight his hand started to shake. 

A few more faltering thrusts was all it took for him to tip over the edge and his cock jerked against your tongue with the first splurt of salty, bitter semen. It hit the roof of your mouth, making you jolt, and a second and then a third pooled at the back of your throat, threatening to choke you. The final bit of creamy discharge oozed out of his pulsing cock to mix with the goopy mess coating your palette and you groaned, basking in the heady flavor of him. It was enough to damn near send you into another fit of convulsions. 

Heaving a satisfied sigh, Shikaku carefully withdrew his flagging cock and lifted the hand from between your legs to gently tilt your chin up at him. “Open.” He huffed, absently caressing the side of your face with his long fingers. 

You obeyed, sticking your tongue out for good measure to show him the white clumps sitting hot and heavy in your mouth. He smiled, very softly, and pushed up on your jaw. 

“Good girl. Now swallow.”

Pulling your swollen lips in a pout, you made a playful show of tilting your head back and choking it all down. You could feel the moment it hit your stomach, an intimate flutter sparking inside your chest. It was hard not to imagine it a little lower, deep in your womb where it could take root and grow into another child. Another Nara. 

That was a dangerous train of thought though and you kept silent when he let up on the chakra feeding into the shadows so that they dissipated, slinking back under the desk where they belonged. Gingerly bringing your arms down to stretch them out, you cautiously peered up at him. Shikaku was watching you with a concealed look of consideration and then, to your surprise, he reached out to softly take your wrist in his hand. 

“Did I hurt you?” 

“No.” You said truthfully, trying not to smile. “You know you didn’t.” 

The corner of his mouth hitched in amusement as he rolled his thumb over the bone to work out the ache he knew you were feeling. “It never hurts to ask though. I don’t think I’d be able to forgive myself if I caused you any harm, even unintentionally.” Bringing your hand up to his face, Shikaku pressed a brief kiss to your palm. “I’m sorry but I need to head home now, sweetheart.” 

“But your paperwork -”

“I’ll take it with me.” He said with a lax shrug as he helped you sit up on the desk. “I probably won’t be getting much sleep anyway. Shikamaru can help me with it while he’s up half the night fussing.” 

You frowned, a tinge of regret putting a damper on your comfortable afterglow as you looked down at your lap. The thought that you were being selfish earlier despite your claim to the contrary flashed through your mind and then camped there, almost making you wish you’d just left it alone. But then Shikaku brought both hands up and cradled your cheeks between his palms so he could lift your attention back to his smiling face. 

“Don’t look so putout. I don’t mind. Really.” Leaning close, he pressed his mouth to your forehead in an affectionate, lingering gesture. “I’ll make it up to you though. How does lunch tomorrow sound?”

Suppressing an excited, tittering giggle, you pinned him with a pleased grin. “Sounds like a date, commander. I can’t wait.” 

“Neither can I.”

[kuriboo]

taking root in the soil

Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: Gen Fandom: Kingdom Hearts (Video Games) Relationships: Lauriam & Marluxia (Kingdom Hearts),Marluxia & Terra (Kingdom Hearts), Lauriam & Terra (Kingdom Hearts) Characters: Lauriam (Kingdom Hearts), Terra (Kingdom Hearts), Ventus (Kingdom Hearts), Aqua (Kingdom Hearts), Marluxia (Kingdom Hearts) Additional Tags: Post-Kingdom Hearts III, Terrariam Week 2021, Hurt/Comfort, Marluxia Is Lauriam (Kingdom Hearts), spoilers for both kh3 and khux Word Count: 2,436

On twitter there was an event for Terrariam Week, focusing on the relationship between Terra & Lauriam/Marluxia. I wrote for a few prompts, I had to cut it off at 3 but it was a lot of fun to write! Khux really made me care a lot about Lauriam so this really gave me an excuse to write him lol but anyway, I’ll post all the days’ entries here with the prompts that go with them.This is also posted on ao3; the link to ao3 will be in the notes of this post! I’ll also post the link to the terrariam week account in the notes.

You can also keep reading below.

⁂

Day 1: Meet-Cute

Lauriam stared down at his black cloak. He was sick of this thing.

The cloak was supposed to protect his heart from darkness. It was also a symbol of his status as a former member of Organization 13. It was a symbol of the person he became without his memories, turning against everything he was supposed to be. Guardian of Light turned Seeker of Darkness. Keyblade wielder turned assassin.

He felt like a traitor. He didn’t just turn against the original Organization, he turned against everything he used to stand for. He forgot about his sister, his friends, everything, and he was only now just starting to remember.

Well, he started to remember as Sora defeated him. His memories were still coming back. He remembered being a Dandelion, he remembered being a Union leader, he remembered Strelitzia…

Strelitzia…

He forgot about his own sister.

Lauriam laughed, a single tear falling down his face. It landed with a small splash on a flower below him, the flower just one of many surrounding him in this field. It was so similar to the one where he appeared after leaving Daybreak Town, where he started his search for Strelitzia.

He’d have to look for Elrena. Had she begun to remember? If not, he would have to try to help her. He owed that to her, for standing beside him for so long, even after they lost their memories.

A step crunching the flowers behind him broke Lauriam’s thoughts. He whirled around to see who it was.

Oh, Lauriam recognized that face. His hair was a different color, brown instead of white, but Lauriam was no fool. This was one of Xehanort’s many forms back again. Lauriam summoned his Keyblade in his hands. Would he never be able to escape him?

Xehanort stopped. He appeared confused. “You’re… Marluxia, right?

“It’s Lauriam now,” Lauriam corrected. “And I’ll thank you to remember that. You won’t get me to join your schemes anymore, Xehanort.”

“Xehanort?” He blinked, still confused. “No, no, Xehanort doesn’t have control over me anymore. I’m free now. My name is Terra.”

“Terra.” Lauriam kept his stance. Xehanort wasn’t above playing tricks. “And why should I trust you, ‘Terra’?”

“You don’t have to.” Terra held his hands up in front of him, palms out. “We’re not here to look for you. This is an accident.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” Lauriam’s grip on his Keyblade tightened. The Organization? “And what are you looking for, then?”

“Two of my friends are here with me.” Terra hesitated. “We’ve been searching different worlds for… Sora.”

Sora? There was a name Lauriam felt like he could trust now. Lauriam could still remember trying to turn the boy into a puppet. How ironic.

“Terra!”

Lauriam turned as he heard another voice call out to Terra. The person it belonged to…

Memories came flooding back. The blonde hair, the clothes he was wearing. Lauriam knew this person. Not from the Organization, but before.

“I asked the dwarves about him,” he told Terra without preamble. “They said no one’s seen him or heard anything about him. I guess Sora isn’t—“ He broke off, staring at Lauriam. “…Who are you?”

Lauriam knew him. Ventus, another former Union leader. Well, Ven wasn’t originally chosen for the role, but Lauriam wasn’t angry at him about it anymore. It wasn’t Ven’s fault he was used by Darkness.

“Hey, are you crying?” Ven asked.

Lauriam reached up to touch his cheek. It was wet. He was crying again. His heart must be overwhelmed, feeling so many emotions already when he wasn’t used to it anymore. “You’re the first… Nevermind. We’ve met before, but you must not remember me.” The Divine Rose disappeared from Lauriam’s hand. “My name is Lauriam. It’s good to see you again, Ven.”

“…Oh. I’m sorry.” Ven looked down at the ground. “You’re not the first friend I’ve met who I’ve forgotten. I can’t remember anything before I met Terra and Aqua…”

Terra put his hand on Ven’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s not your fault.”

“He’s right.” Lauriam smiled, though it hurt. Why did hearts make things so difficult? “I only just remembered myself. I’m hardly in a position to judge.”

He wasn't upset. Lauriam was just… disappointed. Not with Ven himself. But just as he started to remember again, he finally found another Union leader, only for said Union leader to have also forgotten. Fate could be cruel.

“I never imagined the world you came from to be like this. It’s strange to see you again here, of all places,” Terra admitted.

“I’m not from this world. The world I’m from…” Lauriam sighed. “It was destroyed a long time ago. This is where I found myself after I left.”

“Then can you come with us? To our world?” Ven blurted out. “I mean, you don’t have to, but… It would be nice to get to know you again! And maybe you can help me remember again!”

“You want me to…come with you?�� Lauriam asked.

“We’ve been looking for Sora, but we’ve had to take breaks back home. I think Aqua will agree it’s about time for another one,” Terra said. “It would be nice to get to know you better…outside of everything before.”

“I don’t think I’d mind that, if you all will have me,” Lauriam answered. “And if I could help you find Sora again as well, it’d be the least I could do to make amends with him.”

And maybe find Elrena as well, and even Strelitzia, if they were searching many different worlds. Besides, where else could he go?

⁂

Day 2: New Beginnings

“Welcome to the Land of Departure.”

Lauriam looked around as Terra, Aqua, and Ventus led him through this new world. (New to him, at least.) Most of what he could see was the large building in front of them. It almost felt familiar; it must be the size, since the Castle That Never Was and Castle Oblivion seemed about as big as this place was. There was some greenery around, but not many flowers or anything like that.

Lauriam was okay with that. He was sure he’d still see the last place he saw his sister in his dreams.

“Come on!” Aqua led the group inside.

He was soon brought into a huge room. There were a couple of chairs, and it was nicely decorated, but there was a lot of empty space. Was this room used for training, or something else?

“Well, it’s not much, but it’s home,” Terra joked.

It was amazing how big this place seemed to be compared to what Lauriam was used to. “So this is the kind of place Keyblade wielders train these days?”

“I’m sure it’s not much compared to what you used to have,” Aqua said.

Lauriam chuckled. “When I was training, we were sent to different worlds all the time doing different missions. So, the places we got to stay in were rather small, but we were rarely there when we weren’t sleeping. I got to stay in the tower as a Union leader, though, which was much bigger. Too big, actually, it was easy to get lost in.”

As for after that… “As part of the…Organization, it wasn’t much different from when I was training. We had small rooms, but were constantly in other worlds for different missions. So, for the most part, this is actually bigger than I’m used to.”

“So a lot has changed…” Ven had a contemplative look on his face. “Can you tell us more? About what it was like back then? I wish I could remember…”

“Of course I can,” Lauriam said. He could tell more about the good times, anyway. He’d rather not get into the bad times, especially those relating to Darkness and his sister. But there were plenty of good times to reflect back on. “But we should probably find somewhere to sit, first. This could get long.”

⁂

“I’m assuming you want to get out of that coat.”

It had gotten late. Ven had gone to bed not long ago, and Aqua had just done the same. Ventus had listened eagerly to Lauriam’s recollections happily, and threw in his questions constantly. Now it was just Terra and Lauriam left.

Lauriam knew what Terra was getting at. He was sick of this black coat. It was supposed to protect his heart from darkness, but had come to symbolize something much worse. A period of his life that was now past.

“If you have anything else I could try, I would appreciate it,” Lauriam responded. “I would rather avoid wearing this thing unless I absolutely need to.”

“We’ve got spare clothes around. Stuff that doesn’t fit anyone. I’ll try to find whatever I can for you to try on.”

Lauriam thanked Terra as Terra walked off, going off to find the clothes in question. Now Lauriam was left alone with his thoughts, but all he could think about was what he was missing now that his memory had returned. He was missing Strelitzia, of course he was missing her. He was also missing Brain, Skuld, and Ephemer. He missed the Ventus that remembered who he was. The only thing that he had left from those times was his Keyblade, back to him now that he’d regained his heart.

Ironic, considering how before he’d regained his memories, he’d yearned for a Keyblade of his own.

Soon, Terra was back with a pile of clothes in his arm, more than Lauriam had been expecting.

“I can take you to a room to try them on,” Terra told him. “Hopefully something in here will fit you.”

Once Lauriam was there and alone, he started going through the pile. Most of it didn’t fit him, which he expected. It wasn’t like all the clothes were magically going to fit him. But he was able to find enough for a new outfit. A black button-up shirt and beige pants. He could keep his Organization boots on for now, so he wasn’t pressed for new shoes. Once the outfit was on, Lauriam walked back to where Terra was waiting, carrying his Organization coat over his shoulder.

“Well, what do you think?” Lauriam asked. “It’s certainly not my outfit from the old days, but I think it’ll do.”

“It looks great,” Terra said, a smile forming on his face. “It’s a fresh start. A new beginning for you.”

A new beginning… Lauriam liked that.

⁂

Day 5: Big Brothers Dynamic (or Day 3: Hurt/Comfort)

“He really looks up to you.”

Terra paused in his training. He looked over and noticed Lauriam watching him. Truthfully, Lauriam had been watching for a while, but Terra seemed so into his training that he hadn’t noticed.

“Who?” Terra asked.

“Ven,” Lauriam clarified. “He admires you, both you and Aqua.” He chuckled. “Ironic, considering he’s been a wielder much longer than you two.”

Terra shook his head. “Aqua deserves all the admiration, not me. I admire her, too. But after all I did to push him away, I’m lucky he looks up to me at all.”

“You can’t blame yourself for the way Xehanort manipulated you.” Lauriam frowned. “You’re far from his only victim. He has a knack for pulling in people who are lost, or missing something. It’s not luck or a mistake that Ven admires you; you came out of it all and took back everything that was yours.”

“I can’t agree with you, but I appreciate it.” Terra’s keyblade disappeared. “You know, you’re one of the first people that knew Ven before he lost his memory. After Chirithy, I mean.”

“Am I?” Lauriam blinked. “I’m…surprised, though really I shouldn’t be. Only the Union leaders and Elrena made it out of our world, and I haven’t found any of the other leaders since. Only Elrena, and now Ven, but Ven and Elrena hardly knew each other.”

“What was he like? Before he lost his memory?”

“Not so different, as far as I can tell. He was equal to the rest of us but still felt inferior, and felt he had to prove himself. He was a good friend, almost like a younger brother to the rest of us. He…”

Marluxia’s expression darkened. “He has more in common with you than either of you know.”

“…What do you mean?”

“He deserves better than to remember. If the full story comes out, he should be the first to know. But… Ven is part of the reason my sister disappeared.”

“Your…sister? What happened?”

Lauriam held up a hand. “Ven is not the one at fault. I forgave him a long time ago. Still, one of the reasons I left our world was to look for her. She has to be out there somewhere, and I won’t give up looking until I find her.”

Terra remembered what it felt like, when he returned home to find Master Eraqus attacking Ven. At that moment, it didn’t matter why their master was attacking him. Nothing could have stopped Terra from protecting Ven. He felt horrified that anyone would attack Ven, but the idea that their master felt he had to made Terra feel sick.”

He tried to picture it. Coming back to the Land of Departure to learn that Ven was completely gone. It was the closest he could think of based on what little Lauriam had described. “I don’t know what I’d do if I found out Ven was gone.”

“I think I nearly lost myself to the darkness when I learned what happened,” Lauriam said. He looked away. “I’m not proud of that moment, but I’m glad my friends were able to keep me from…” He sighed. “Well, that wasn’t long before I lost my memory and let myself become a vessel of darkness anyway, so I’m behind on my search.”

“Better late than never, though, right?” Terra smiled. “We’ll help you find your sister. I know I’d never stop looking if it were Ven, and we’re still looking for Sora anyway. Besides, we owe it to you as one of Ven’s friends.”

“You owe me nothing,” Lauriam protested. “I’ve done nothing to deserve that.”

“Then think of it this way: we’ll be helping each other. We won’t take no for an answer. But first…” Terra summoned his Keyblade. “Get your Keyblade. You’re joining in on training.”

“I’m more than a bit rusty,” Lauriam admitted, though he summoned his own Keyblade anyway. “I suppose it’s more reason for me to train.”

“I want to see how you fight. How strong you are. I’m curious about how much has changed since you and Ven’s time,” Terra said. “You better be ready.”

“I’ll admit, I’m curious as well.” Lauriam smirked. “I’ve been ready for ages.”

[alrighttevans]

invisible strings

Ao3 link

Yet unaware of it, they are always searching — searching for a mop of familiar blond hair, searching for a distinctive pair of bluebell eyes, always searching for each other. Chat Noir knows his duties as a superhero; he knows he can’t ask her to share this secret with him, even if it is his heart’s greatest desire. Ladybug knows they can’t destroy the wall holding them apart, even though her heart tells her otherwise; she knows she has to listen to her brain. What happens if her heart starts speaking louder?

I wonder how she is under her mask.

chapter 1: well i wonder

How the girl that had been his best friend — maybe a bit more than that, on his part — still held an unrecognizable face and an unknown name that kept him up late at night, for he craved so much to taste the sound of the secret his lady had been so adamant in keeping from him in his lips?

It had been four years since his life had become quite miraculous — literally —, when Adrien had been chosen to be the carrier of the black cat miraculous, to fight against all forces of evil that dared to threaten Paris alongside Ladybug — the most spectacular girl he had ever met, the girl that had owned his heart since their very first mission, even if he didn’t quite understand the extent of his feelings by the time they started to flourish. But who could blame him, when he was only a naive thirteen years old boy?

However, Adrien was neither thirteen nor that naive anymore. Now he was quite aware of the fact that he was ardently and completely smitten with his partner. 

Problem was the weight of their duties had created a wall between them that kept any possibility of what they could be to remain sorely in Adrien’s imagination. 

So that’s what he did, he imagined.     

He wondered if she still wore her pigtails, without her suit, or if maybe she let her silky dark strands shine free under the moonlight, or perhaps she frequently varied her hairstyles, changing her hair into a carefully made french braid, or a high ponytail, tighten by a red ribbon, or even an elegant bun on the top of her head, that left her face free for all to admire. He wished he could see the way her hair fell over her shoulders, whilst the wind made her strands messy and she teased him for whatever stupid comment he had made. Should I ask her? To allow me to be struck by one more side of her? No, no. That'd be weird. He was already too much of an inconvenience for her, sometimes. Nevertheless, could her locks be as soft as they appeared to be? Could he touch them and pretend it was an accident? Cats were sneaky, after all. 

What could she be doing now? He wondered where she was; which of these treacherous streets was hiding his lady from him? She could live at any corner of Paris; at his lycée’s neighbourhood, at his neighbourhood, at his street. She could be hiding right under his nose and he would never know, because he was doomed to only wonder.

Could she have a picture of Chat Noir saved in her mobile, just like Adrien had a few — okay, maybe not just a few — of her, to remember him in the days an akuma attack or a patrol date couldn’t form their excuse to see each other? Chat Noir’s memory also slipped into her mind, when he wasn’t around her? Did she wonder what would come of the boy that kissed her hand, just before they parted ways? Did she think about the house that would collect him at nighttime? Could she have known, sensed, the loneliness that was already a part of him, at this point, a part that wouldn’t leave him, at any cost? Does she also check the Ladyblog daily, or even hourly, half hoping to find some post with a new bit of information about him, half terrified that an akuma has done some irreparable damage to him while she wasn't there to prevent it? 

He knows he does. 

Could Chat Noir have met her? Had she allowed him to spot her, while hiding her so familiar silhouette under clothes that differed from her usual black spotted red suit? Was red also her brand colour? Or perhaps she liked another colour best? He didn't know her favourite colour. He would ask her that, in their next meeting. He would ask her and be able to picture her with a dress, or a skirt or a blouse that carried said colour. Perhaps he had jumped in front of her during an akuma attack, shielding her from danger. He might have helped her escape, without minding her any attention. He could have held her in his arms and was unaware of it. He may have seen her throughout the crowd that surrounded him, whenever his lady wasn’t by his side. Was she by his side when his lady presented herself absent?

Could she know me? Could she know Adrien Agreste? 

Not that he was bragging, but she must know who he was — his bloody face was scattered all around the city, after all. However, could she know him personally? What if he had met Ladybug’s civilian self at some point in the last three years — had given her his model smile, whereas he shook her hand, or even hugged her? Could she have been a constant, not only to Chat Noir’s, but to Adrien’s life as well? The thought pained him. What a cruel irony it’d be if he had touched her unsuited skin and learned about her tastes, interests and passions, yet unaware of it, whilst trying to grasp at the thin leads she left him, as her superheroine self, to cling to, in the few minutes that Adrien always hoped would last a tad bit more. 

“Chat Noir?”

The sweet calling of his name by his favourite voice caught Chat off guard, interrupting the track of thought his mind was trailing. Was she there? Was his love so powerful that it could conjure the object of his affections? Apparently, it was, since Ladybug was standing right by his side, making a wide grin that he didn’t think would reach his face that night grow in his lips.

“My lady! What do I owe the pleasure of your company?” The sight of her had Chat Noir immediately standing up and bowing to his lady, doing justice to his character. 

She smiled fondly at him, taking a few steps closer. Ladybug led him back to the corner of the roof where he was previously sitting by and took a place by his seat's side. Of course, he followed her promptly. “Well, I could see a black kitty sitting on a rooftop all alone from my window and I thought I should see what he was up to.” 

From her window? 

One of the windows watching him was hers? Chat made an effort — nothing had seen so difficult as that, and that was a lot considering he was a bloody superhero — to not search, with his wide eyes, for the window that kept Ladybug’s bedroom somewhere near them. Would her bedroom be decorated with the same amount of colours that she had brought to his life?

Chat Noir watched as her eyes widened with the realisation of the small revelation she had just made and she opened her mouth, ready to remove those words from his ears, however, he was faster, approximating their faces and throwing a cocky yet hopeful smirk in her direction. He would lock every little bit of information she gave him in his heart. 

“Don’t you know it’s rude to spy on people, Bugaboo? Well, I suppose I can’t blame you for admiring my beauty. It’s quite compelling, isn’t it?”

“I think you’re the one admiring my beauty now, Chaton.” Ladybug teased, after closing even more the distance between the two of them; their noses almost touching as Chat’s eyes widened and a fair amount of red reached his face, matching her suit — at least his embarrassment's colour felt appropriate. She pulled away with a short laugh that left a warming smile behind, while Chat Noir tried to recover. Oh, she was so oblivious to the power she held over him. “Now, tell me, what were you doing here? It’s quite late, you know.” 

“You see, cats are creatures of the night, my lady.” He answered cheappely, trying to keep them away from the disaster Ladybug was attempting to dig. She didn’t want to know.

“Maybe, but the boy under the mask isn’t.” She touched his nose with the tip of her finger playfully, before a concerned expression occupied her face. “Why aren’t you home?”

“Oh, you know I’ll do anything in the hopes of spotting you!” He replied while holding his hands over his heart with a love-sick expression stamped in his face.

“At two in the morning?” Ladybug raised a brow, and Chat could sense how she wasn’t buying his story. However, he couldn’t tell her how his father had scratched him out of his schedule once again. He couldn’t tell her about the large table with missing seats, which he would sit everyday for a solitary meal. He couldn’t tell her about his lonely nights and days, nor about the disagreements between him and his father. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her the tale of the model boy trapped inside the tower, awaiting for someone that would never arrive, because it wasn’t Chat Noir’s story; Chat couldn’t be abandoned and forgotten inside an empty mansion. Chat Noir was free. 

He couldn’t tell her about all the things that led him into transforming into his alter ego and escaping from his house during an night of insomnia for a bit, so he could breathe a little, since those weren’t Chat Noir’s worries; and he’d rather be Chat Noir, who could let his mind travel, wondering about his lady, then to be Adrien, stuck in a lonely room. Ladybug was always such a beautiful thought to think about, why would he choose otherwise?

“Well, you’re here, aren’t you?” 

The smug grin on his face had her eyes rolling, as she tried to hide the smile that grew on her lips — it was enough to warm Chat’s whole existence —, however, the blue in her irises still sparkled with concern as she called “Silly cat” and shook her head, before allowing a comfortable silence to extend between them. 

Ladybug leaned back, supporting her weight on her straight arms. He couldn’t help but to watch her as she gazed at the sky, which was ornate with the stars that decided to shine in a brighter tone just for them. She closed her eyes, absorbing the night breeze that flew through her face, always contemplated with Chat’s infatuated expression, which she met, as soon as she blinked, staring him back just as intently, before prompting a question with her soft tune, breaking the quietness between the pair of them. “Won’t your parents notice you’re gone?” 

Chat Noir felt the bitter taste of the ‘no’ that almost escaped his lips. Oh, Ladybug, if only you knew how serious I am when I say you're the sun shining through my whole existence. Would you tell me comforting words? Would you look at me without the thin curtain that hid the broken boy behind the cat costume? Would you still want me, if you knew the whole extension of who I am? Be that as it may, she shouldn’t be bothered with his problems. Therefore, attempting to mask the pain he knew lied in his eyes alongside with it’s green, he raised cocky eyebrows at her. “As it happens, I’m quite sneaky.”

“Why are you dodging my questions?”

“You have nothing to worry about, my lady.” He replied nonchalantly, shrugging off her concerns, as he gave her his model smile, in an attempt to look reassuring. “Trust me.” However, his dismissal didn’t seem enough for Ladybug, for she opened her mouth to query him once again, but, before she could reply, Chat quickly added, in a teasingly chime, ”Don’t I look trustworthy?”

She gave him a pointed look and pressed her lips together in a thin line for a few moments, before allowing her whole expression to soften into a warming smile, sending a relieved flow through Chat’s body “Well then, mind if I keep you company?”

“It's always my pleasure.”

chapter 2: well I wonder

[untamed-era]

Come Out and Level Up, Part 2

(part 1) (EDIT: link now leads to both halves of part 1)  (EDIT 2: AO3 Link) 

Wei Ying does not look pleased with the situation. This is unexpected. Lan Wangji remembers finding proper labels as a deep relief, a sense that other people matched his experience. Wei Ying, on the other hand, comes and sits down, staring at his phone again, looking dejected.

Lan Wangji waits.

“I’m. I guess it’s good I know this, right? Let me make better choices, going forward. It’s good to. It’s good to understand, why I never particularly wanted to date anyone that asked me out. That’s good.”

He is trying to talk himself into the idea. Lan Wangji continues waiting.

“I just —“ He looks up, suddenly, meeting Lan Wangji’s eyes. “Lan Zhan, I really did want to get married.” He sounds forlorn, lost. “I mean. You remember, I talked about inviting you to a farm, someday? And like.” He shifts, uncomfortably, curling his arms around himself. Lan Wangji wants to hug him, comfort him. He does not know how. “I never pictured a wife, but I don’t… I don’t want to be alone.”

Lan Wangji remembers the fantasy Wei Ying had described. It had been so casually referenced, the idea of a little farm and lots of children running around and food cooking inside. It’s featured heavily in his own fantasies, since, when he allows himself to forget that he was invited only as an interloper.

“Action does not equal attraction,” he tells Wei Ying, quietly. “You may yet find a… wife. If you want. If they are happy with the arrangement.”

“Maybe. But like, how do you know when you’ve found someone you’d be willing to spend your life with, if you don’t have the whole true love thing to work with? I mean, you were the only specific person I ever put anywhere near that whole dream. I can’t think of anyone I know who’d be… who’d fit…” He trails off, thinking.

Lan Wangji looks away, breathing through the emotional turmoil of that. He knows Wei Ying doesn’t mean it like Lan Wangji wishes he did. He’s as good as saying he can’t picture Lan Wangji there all the time, can’t see him as a true life partner of any sort. Lan Wangji will respect that. Of course he will. None of this is about him.

“How did you even figure all this out?” Wei Ying asks, suddenly, and Lan Wangji flinches. Wei Ying plows ahead without noticing. “I mean, there’s so many terms here, and I don’t know — maybe I’m just overthinking everything! I like thinking about sex, I like the idea of kissing! But apparently not like everyone else does? How did you ever sort all this out?”

It was the best words for how I felt about you, Lan Wangji thinks but does not say. It was the only way to make sense of the intensity and specificity of his feelings. How can he help, when Wei Ying’s problem is not knowing, instead of knowing too much?

“I mean,” Wei Ying continues, not waiting for any sort of response, “I mean, like, sure I’ve contemplated kissing people in the past. Specific people, even! I mean, I’ve thought about kissing you, who hasn’t, obviously, that’s just… That’s just part of friendship, isn’t it?”

Lan Wangji stares. All of his deep, meditative thoughts are crumpling around him. He cannot feel any part of his body. He cannot interpret any of this. If he tries, he may actually explode.

“Oooookay you’re looking at me weirdly,” Wei Ying says from very far away and also about two feet from Lan Wangji’s face. It should be farther. It should be much less. How can he cope with any of this. “So what you’re saying is that imagining kissing isn’t a normal part of any close friendship.”

How is Lan Wangji supposed to answer that? It’s certainly a normal part of his closest friendships. Friendship. Singular.

Wei Ying laughs, high and strained. “I don’t suppose we can just forget about what I just said, move back to. Uh. Some other topic? Um.”

Lan Wangji physically cannot. He thinks his entire brain has rewired itself to play “I’ve thought about kissing you” on repeat. He cannot think of anything else well enough to respond. He cannot muster the strength to echo it.

“Maybe I should just. Just go? Sorry, I know I made things weird, I wouldn’t blame—“

“Don’t,” Lan Wangji says. It’s spoken from his instincts, the ones that never want Wei Ying to leave, the ones that he overrules when he has any brainpower left over for them.

“Uh. Okay, Lan Zhan.” He looks nervous, Lan Wangji notes. He should say something to reassure Wei Ying. That sounds good.

“You’ve thought about kissing me,” he says instead. Hmm.

Wei Ying avoids his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah? I… I didn’t think that was a big deal but. I’m also kind of thinking of… a lot of other. Things. I’ve thought about and. Oh, I don’t know. They’re my problem, I guess. I already made things weird enough.”

“What things,” he says.

Wei Ying looks at him, eyes wide.

Lan Wangji struggles to gather his words. “I want. To hear. Your thoughts.” His hands are curled into fists so tightly they hurt. “Always,” he adds.

“Lan Zhan, no, I’ve already made you uncomfortable enough, I wouldn’t want to —“

“I am not uncomfortable.” He hesitates, and self-evaluates. “Or. That is not my primary emotion.”

“Confused you, then.”

And he can’t quite dispute that one. He is confused. He is dumbfounded, and… It takes a long moment to sort through everything else and identify the most prominent emotion.

“Yes,” he says, finally. “But I am also hopeful.”

That finally leaves Wei Ying speechless. It is nice to turn the tables again. He waits, in silence.

“What the fuck, Lan Zhan,” he finally says, weakly. “What the fuck do you have to be hopeful about.”

“You asked about how I figured my identity out.” Lan Wangji says. He can see the shape of the conversation again, he thinks. He does not know the end, but he is hopeful.

“We’re well past that!” Wei Ying says. “That was before I — before — Before —“

“I found the terms,” Lan Wangji says, ploughing ahead heedlessly, “because they best described how much I wanted to kiss you, Wei Ying.”

He has flabbergasted Wei Ying again. He savors it, watching Wei Ying blink and gape and wave one hand wildly. Finally, Wei Ying opens his mouth, and quietly says “Wanted? Past tense?”

“Want,” he admits. It comes easily, in spite of everything. Years of hidden pining, all leading to this one needle-point admission.

Wei Ying stares at him. It’s easy to meet his eyes.

He’s scared, of course he’s scared. He’s on tenterhooks, waiting for the response. But he has had no hope, no reason to say anything, sometimes not even a chance — and now he has them all.

“What the fuck,” Wei Ying finally says, “is this conversation.”

Lan Wangji inclines his head in agreement.

“I mean seriously, what the fuck. I mean this started with me mentioning a gay person at work and now you’re… we’re…. I’m….” He shies away from saying what, exactly, any of these pronouns are doing, which Lan Wangji thinks is deeply unfortunate. He, himself, has been uncomfortably vulnerable multiple times and Wei Ying has mostly just floundered at him. In fairness, he himself had a complicated process of coming to terms with his sexuality and would not have been balanced or coherent about it in the first ten minutes of questioning. He can and will be patient with this. In the part of him that does not care about fairness it rankles, that he spent the last ten years slowly making peace with his identity and here Wei Ying is with the exact same internalized heteronormativity that characterized middle school.

“So, but. You want to kiss me, though.”

Lan Wangji had been very clear on that, he thought. “Mn.”

“Why, though. I mean just… Why?”

Lan Wangji stares at Wei Ying, the love of his life, his best friend, the smartest person he knows, for a good long minute. “Because I am attracted to you. Romantically and sexually.”

They stare at each other for another long moment, Wei Ying’s mouth hanging open. “What the fuck, Lan Zhan,” he says, finally, weakly.

If he were someone else, he could, perhaps, rhapsodize about Wei Ying’s sterling qualities, the foundation of his attraction. He certainly has the material, but lacks the skill to shape it into something convincing. “I do not wish to make you uncomfortable,” he says.

“Uncomfortable? Uncomfortable? I’m not uncomfortable, Lan Zhan, I’m just baffled. I mean, you’re you! Who wouldn’t want to hear this stuff from you! How am I supposed to deal with this! How am I supposed to figure out — wait hang on I’m calling Jiang Cheng.”

Lan Wangji blinks. He did not anticipate Wei Ying’s irritating brother being part of any of these confessions. To borrow a phrase from Wei Ying, what the fuck is this conversation.

“Jiang Cheng? Hi, Jiang Cheng, hey, quick question: how much do you think about kissing your male friends.”

The faint but irate voice of Jiang Cheng says “What the fuck, Wei Ying.”

“No, this is important. Do you think about kissing your friends? How often are you hanging out with like, other men, and just start thinking about kissing them. Like just occasionally, or.”

“Never! I never think about that! Why would I?”

“So like. If one of them — let’s say Lan Zhan — offered to kiss you. Would you want to?”

A silence. “Why the fuck would I want to kiss Lan Wangji,” Jiang Cheng says. Lan Wangji thinks maybe he should be offended, except that it is an exact mirror of his feelings toward Jiang Cheng. Besides, Wei Ying is making a very endearing offended face on his behalf.

“Why wouldn’t you want to kiss Lan Zhan — wait I just realized I could be doing that instead of arguing with you so I guess live on in your delusion.”

“What the fuck, Wei Ying! Don’t you dare go harassing —“

The line cuts off before Jiang Cheng can finish his threat. Fortunately, Lan Wangji cannot find it in himself to give one singular fuck about his opinion right now. He stares at Wei Ying, who looks, suddenly, nervous. He licks his lips, and Lan Wangji stares more. “Uh,” he says, finally. “I still don’t. Exactly. Know where I stand on most of this? Like I’m pretty sure I want to, uh, experiment with, with everything, ‘cause suddenly I have a ton of questions, but mostly I think it’s frankly very rude that you aren’t already kissing me, what’s up with that, Lan Zhan —“

Lan Wangji’s tattered patience abruptly snaps, and he is pulling Wei Ying’s face to his before the other can finish talking. After all, he was not raised to be rude.

[buttonso]

Happy Birthday, Harvey

WELL.... it’s Winter 14, gotta do something to acknowledge it! My drawing game is garbage today, so, I thought I would post a chapter from the fic I’ve been working on since summer.  This is actually the fourth chapter, but one could read it as a standalone.  The fic itself is rated Mature on AO3, but this chapter is pure fluff and should be appropriate for teens- there are a few swear words.

14th of Winter Ascending

Standing before the floor-length mirror on the back of his bathroom door, Harvey stood up as straight as he could, puffing his chest out. Unable to sit still or relax the last several hours, he’d taken exceptional care with his clothing this evening, putting on his best suit and tie, polishing his glasses and combing his hair carefully. ~Well... do I look handsome? Manly?~ He drooped and sighed. ~Or am I just a dork in a cheap suit?~ He wasn’t sure what he was hoping for tonight.  It had all the hallmarks of a romantic date, but neither of them had stated their feelings explicitly.

He hadn’t helped himself any with his own indecision. All that concern about ethics… he was starting to wonder if that had just been his fear talking, an excuse not to put himself out on a limb, not to take a chance. Or was he now, in turn, just rationalizing away his ethics in order to try to get what he wanted?  

~And what do I want?~ he asked himself as he adjusted his tie for the umpteenth time. ~I’m not just trying to… to get in her pants.~ He blushed to even think that vulgar term. He’d be lying if he claimed to not be interested in that, but…

But, but, BUT… “I’m going to give myself a stroke if I keep thinking about this,” he said aloud, frowning at his reflection. Aura was his friend. He trusted her, and thinking about not having her in his life was just too difficult to contemplate. No matter what happened tonight, it was bound to, at least, be a pleasant evening with a dear friend. He glanced at his watch and nodded to himself.  He’d have to get going soon if he was going to make it to the farm by 6…

Just as he turned to pick up his building keys, the buzzer linked to the after-hours doorbell began to ring. He froze, listening to the harsh sound, not really registering it for a moment, then dropped his keys on the table in exasperation. Of course. OF COURSE there would be an emergency, right now. ~It had better be something damn serious,~ He thought irritably as he stomped down the stairs into the clinic, through the lobby to the front door, throwing it open with some force…

Only to find Aura standing on his doorstep, holding a large basket and looking a bit sheepish.

“Um… hey Harvey.” She looked a little disheveled, her hair escaping from what had probably once been an elegant twist at the back of her neck. Her red scarf was drooping off her shoulder and trailing in the slush on the street at her feet.  “I’ve… had some difficulties,” She said slowly, giving him a weak smile.

“Are you all right??” He exclaimed, pushing the door open wider so she could come in.

“Yeah… I’m fine except for… everything I had planned… being… completely… fucked…” She answered through gritted teeth, her forced cheerfulness fading with every word until she sounded near tears. “My piece of shit oven crapped out on me… sorry for swearing so much, I just… just…” Her shoulders started to shake and he quickly took the basket from her hands, setting it on the clinic’s front counter.

“Don’t worry about that, just… come on, let’s get you warm,” He said quickly, picking up her scarf as it finally fell off her shoulder.  “Where’s Buttercup?” Surely she hadn’t walked all the way from the farm...

“I-I walked…”

DAMN IT. He opened his mouth to scold her, but she continued to speak in a rapid, somewhat strained tone.

“…Buttercup threw a shoe earlier today… I took her to Marnie’s but she said the farrier couldn’t come until Tuesday… didn’t want to risk laming her.. that wasn’t even the first thing to go wrong today. First thing this morning Murphy brought in a… I don’t even know what it was, I swear it was the size of a raccoon… but he dropped it on me in bed and the fucking thing was still alive…  Then I dropped a preserve jar in the kitchen and the goddamn thing EXPLODED, I had cranberry jelly all over my kitchen AND ME, it was even in my hair…I swear, I’m going to start taking that bullshit fortuneteller on TV seriously, you know, she said it was a bad luck day when I got my ass kicked in the mines, too…”

“Why didn’t you just call and cancel?!” Harvey interrupted, aghast, as he pulled the door closed behind them. He tried to take her coat, but she waved him off.

“No way… I wasn’t going to leave you in the lurch on your birthday,” She said stubbornly. “So... I improvised.” She gestured impatiently at the basket on the counter while Harvey made a second attempt at taking her coat.  She evaded him, pacing the length of the counter and back.

“Aura, how do you think I’d feel if you… if you broke your ankle and fell into some snowbank and died of hypothermia or something?!” He asked crossly.

“I imagine you would resurrect me just so you could yell at me,” She sniffed and shrugged out of her coat, tossing it onto the counter.

She wore a simple long-sleeved red and black striped sweater-dress that hugged her body to just above her knees, with black leggings and little in the way of jewelry besides a silver chain that rested in the hollow of her throat.  On her feet she wore black boots, laced tightly to mid-calf. The outfit was so simple, but it looked amazing on her. He knew he was staring… and that he should stop… or at least say something…

“So…” Aura’s cheeks, already pink from the cold outside, flushed a bit brighter as she moved jerkily towards the basket on the counter. “I think… there’s something we should get out of the way, before this evening goes any further.”

“Oh…?” Harvey’s breath caught in his throat, and he had the curious sensation of standing on a precipice.

Aura’s hands trembled slightly as she opened the flaps at the top of the basket and reached inside, slowly drawing out… a bouquet? A sweet-smelling mass of purple, blue, silver and white. Purple and white crocus blooms were interwoven with bright blue crystal fruits and white snow yams, the whole thing secured with a wide dark-blue ribbon. She held it out towards him, her expression shy.

His heart skipped a beat.

Could it be…?

“I’ve been told that people around here declare… feelings… that is, romantic feelings… with a bouquet. I wasn’t sure at first… I mean, most places I’ve lived, people don’t really do flowers at all, let alone women giving them to men, but… I asked Marnie if it was true and she said it was.”

“You… talked to Marnie about this?” Harvey asked, his mouth going dry.

“Yeah. After I went home from the clinic,” She replied.  “Well… I knew if I bought a bouquet at Pierre’s, the whole town would know about it before… before the person I wanted to give it to. And it’s not like I didn’t have time to kill over the last week…”

“…I see…” The leaves shivered as his hands closed over hers. Her hands were trembling as much as his were.

“Harvey… I think it’s pretty obvious even without these flowers… how I feel about you. But, just in case it’s not, well… here they are.” Her silver eyes held his. “For awhile now I’ve felt like… like we’re holding ourselves back.  I don’t want to hold myself back anymore. But if you don’t want it, then... then we’ll say no more about it, ok?”

She tried to pull back, but Harvey’s hands reflexively tightened around hers.  He couldn’t speak, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to let her go either.

“…Harvey?” She tilted her head slightly. “…Are you OK?” A thousand emotions and thoughts were clamoring in his mind, making it hard to focus.  This was everything he’d wanted for so long… he’d told himself, over and over, that it was wrong to wish, to hope, wrong to want her. The excuses varied from day to day, moment to moment. Either he wasn’t good enough for her because she deserved someone more handsome, or someone braver, or someone stronger… whatever way he felt inadequate that particular day. If it wasn’t that, then he told himself it would be ethically wrong, to hit on her while she was his patient… but it was all a way to keep a greater heartache at bay.

“Harvey, please… either reject me or…or don’t…” She whispered. Her silver eyes were shadowed with vulnerability.  He’d dreamed of her for so long… could he really hurt her now?

“Aura, I…” He cleared his throat. “…I’m not strong enough…”

“Oh, DAMN IT, Harvey…” She stomped her foot in frustration, but before she could say anything else, he pulled her to him, crushing the lovely bouquet between them. Purple petals scattered around them as he wrapped one arm around her, holding her against him, finally holding her like he’d wanted to for months, practically from the moment they met. They each still had one hand on the bouquet, now squished awkwardly between them, and Aura’s spare hand clutched at his shirt.

“I was going to say… I’m not strong enough… to pretend like this isn’t exactly what I wanted,” He said in a shaky voice. “I kept coming up with excuses as to why I couldn’t be with you… because I was so afraid…”

“Harvey…” She squeaked. “Ribs…”

“Oh…” another flurry of purple petals as he released her, his hands going to her side, anxiously probing her ribcage while she continued to awkwardly held the smashed bouquet at arm’s length.

“Harvey….Harvey.” Her free hand batted at his shoulder. “Trying to feel me up when you haven’t even kissed me yet?” A bit of her usual dry humor was back in her voice, though with a bit of a tremble to it. When he looked up, her silver gaze captured him again, and she smiled, brushing her fingers across his cheek, then trailing enticingly over his lips. “You have beautiful eyes, you know,” She told him softly. “Lovely hazel green…It’s one of the first things I noticed about you.”

Harvey wasn’t sure if he kissed her, or she him, but it seemed as if every nerve in his body came to life when her lips pressed to his, a deep thrill running up his spine and making him shiver all over. There was a soft rustle as she finally dropped the bouquet and wound her arms around his neck, pressing her chest into his. When they parted, they were both a little breathless, and he felt himself smiling so broadly it almost hurt.

“I guess… I’ll just have to take the bus to the city when I have the sniffles,” She said archly, resting her forehead against his. “Since you’re so hung up about having to be my doctor…”

“Aura….” There were so many things he wanted to say, that it was her eyes that had drawn him in at the beginning, that he’d dreamed of this moment for so long…

…That there were so many things he was still afraid of…

“Just… just don’t ever let yourself get hurt like that again… my heart can’t take it…” He finally answered, shaking his head and hugging her as tightly as he dared to. “Thinking I’d lost you… I’d never been so miserable…”

Aura let him hold her for another long moment, burying her face in his shoulder. “I’ll do my best… it’s not like I enjoyed having a brush with death,” she answered, voice muffled. Then she gave him another, lighter kiss, this time on his cheek. “Happy birthday, Harvey. I may not have been able to make the dinner I had planned, but I brought leftovers from yesterday and I just thought, well…. We could just be together for a little while?”

“I didn’t think this birthday could get any better…”  Harvey said as they stepped away from each other, hands tightly linked.  He looked down in regret at the pile of blue and purple petals scattered on the floor around them. “I’m so sorry about that though… it was so beautiful, it really was..”

“Maybe I’ll make you another next year…” She said as they both knelt to scoop up the fallen flora.  She fished out a crocus that had survived the tumble to the floor, still intact, turning it slowly in her fingers, then absently tucked it behind her ear. “Save these, though, the crystal fruit make for pretty decent wine. Waste not, want not.”

Harvey caught her hands again, turning them over to admire her long, strong fingers, tracing the callouses on her palms before tugging her to her feet. “Come on.. let’s just worry about the mess later. You’re probably starving.”

“But we can just…” She began, then shrugged. “OK, birthday boy… you’re the boss.”

In that moment, it seemed the light in her smile would keep him warm for the rest of the winter.

____

If you are interested in reading more, it can be found here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25158031/chapters/60962605

[geirskogull]

Moments of Calm - Part 1

+ Notes: 5.5 Spoilers Present in This Fic, Warrior of Light Danica Voss takes a moment to herself to perfect that strong silent type look by letting her brain get the better of her.

Archive Link

Warnings: This Chapter isn’t particularly Spicey, but overall this is NSFW

Word Count: 3k

 “Finally a moment to yourself then Warrior of Light?” Estiniens voice was a cool whisper through the warm Mor Dhona night air. Unceremoniously warm, if you were to ask her, but it's tepid purple glow was relaxing to her anxious mind even if the slowly forming sweat upon skin was not. It was sticky and gross but at least it reminded her she was material. That she was present and here and no longer upon any bloody field of battle where good men go to die. Where heros place their very lives on the line for a cause they may not fully understand the weight against.

   Estinien grimaced when his voice didn’t draw her eye. It normally did. Instead her lovely mismatched visage, gold and green like the sunlight through a forest canopy, gazed over towards the wreckage that was the Keeper of the Lake. Midgardsormr’s rest was temporary, as she had told him once when appraising him of what happened with Omega after Ala Mhigo’s liberation, but he couldn’t help but wonder if in moments like now when she sat silent and contemplative if she wished the Founder of the First Brood could be roused awake with a simple please and thank you.

   “Practicing the Strong Silent type act you have then I take it?” He chuckled, though it felt hollow in his chest. He hoped it brought her some sort of ease. Danica Voss, Ala Mhigan Native Scion, seemed to always relax when she heard him laugh, or in general display some sort of ease from a smile to a gentle nod to just having less bags under his eyes more days than normal. He prayed it worked even when the act was false.

   “Oh?” Her head snapped up finally, looking from the corpse of the primogenitor to the former Azure Dragoon. What greeted him did nothing to put ease in his heart, well... nothing had recently if he was being honest with himself. And as he liked to view himself a realist, he liked to believe he was honest with himself. Her eyes were red and the bags under them outpaced his own. Exhaustion sat in those once brilliant blinding eyes. And that smile that saw such good in him, even as he existed as nothing short of a monstrous creature of vengeance, was nothing but a faint dim twitch at the edge of her lips.

   “Sorry, lost in thought.” She chuckled and he knew it was as false as his own. The smile that grew on her face didn’t reach her eyes and only the rhythmic kicking of her feet against the edge of the cold stone roof paced with her true anxiety. Fast and surprised. He’d caught her off guard, and that was never a good thing.

   “Lost in thought and yes, a moment to myself. And before you ask, no you're not interrupting.” In fact he was a welcome interruption. Her mind had grown to lingering on her fears. On this new threat, Fandaniel and his odd Lunar primals. Once more the ever present threat of universal extinction was on the horizon and she’d only just returned.

   “I need to steal my rest where I can no? Otherwise there's no rest for the wicked.” And by the gods, she needed to rest. Every movement now was like a forced march, and her heart could only take so much. Her eyes dipped away from his own greys as a familiar escapist thought crossed her mind.  Fray had offered her Freedom from this once.

  “Or Righteous, as it seems more often the case for you these days Lady Voss.” He chimed, turning his back to her to place his spear near the door. Close enough that even on this roof he need just think and grab it without having to run, but far enough away that it was in no way capable of interrupting any gentle thoughts either might have. Her eyes widened a spell at his words, and he heard an honest snort of a giggle echo through the empty night air. The melody brought a true smile to his face in turn. She was still there, but tired.

   “Oh please, don’t call me that. I’m not some noble lady of Ishgard.” The faint flush on her cheeks in the moonlight was enough to tell him she didn’t really mind, but was just caught off guard.She turned away and motioned away with her hand, and he found his smile grew with his pride.

   “True, but you are  my lady  after all. Does it offend that much?” He asked, gently tilting his head as he strode closer. Gloved hand reaching out for her extended one, grasping it firmly, only to quickly intertwine his digits with her own. He let out a low, almost content hum as he approached, gently tugging at their connection to turn her form round.

   “Not if you sit next to me.” She answered, pulling upon his own hand, dragging him towards the edge. How long had it been since they last saw each other? Traveled by one anothers side? Her endless optimism and hope tempered by his realism. Azure Dragoons together.

   Too long, he decided, flipping her hand over and bringing the back of her hand to his lips. A simple yet dated action, unlike him in any other circumstance but uniquely correct here. Alone. At the top of the Rising Stones. Not a soul to see the way his eyes warmed with a deep fondness when they returned to her own. Nor the growing toothy smile on her face, and the light slowly entering her eyes as she felt at Home.

   “I suppose I can do that.” He chuckled, letting go of her hand only momentarily to take his assigned seat next to her. Legs hanging over the edge of the roof, eyes lingering over the horizon. No wonder she got so lost in thought up here, he was almost swept away in the current himself. It had to be something about the air. Intoxicating. Or perhaps it’d just been an unending series of long drawn out days.

   Words were not what saved him from the tide however. But the gentle press of her head upon his shoulder, and the wrap of her arm through his. Absently, he rested his hand atop hers on his bicep and looked down at her comfortable but still troubled eyes. Before he had a chance to speak however, she did.

   “You’re home.”  Her voice was but a distant whisper, almost lost on the night breeze. He blinked, taken aback, and was awaiting the inevitable ‘Where have you been?’ but -

   “I missed you.” It never came.

   And he found himself for a moment, unable to respond. A warmth blossoming in his chest that should have been familiar by now but always took him off guard. Of course she didn’t ask. She knew if it was important, he’d tell her. She... trusted so readily it scared him sometimes. Someone was bound to come around and see her endless optimism and dreams and kindness and open hands and hurt her for it. Wield the knife that would steal her from the world forever. Away from him.

   The thought of that turned his stomach into painful knots. It had almost already happened once. Upon the Dark, with that imposter in Zenos body and that wavering sickness over her. That broke her concentration, almost killed her. He prayed like then, he’d be lucky enough to stop any blade aiming for her back but -

   These were not words voiced to air. They were visible only in the churning grey storm clouds of his eyes and hers were closed to them for now. So his answer was in action and the gentle touch of his hand upon the back of her head. Cradling her form against him.

   “I missed you too.”

   His voice sounded hoarse to his own ears, the words somehow not enough to convey exactly what he felt. His... lack of practice at this whole being a person not obsessed with vengeance thing was really starting to bite him in the ass and he hated it!

   But it was enough and his worry was for naught. Her anxious kicking legs against the stone stilled, and though he could hear it, he imagined her heart did as well. She kept eyes closed and just wrapped her arms around his torso, in a firm side hug that was a welcome gift.

   “Are you alright?” A question voiced later, as the moon grew higher in the night sky and the warmth turned to a faint chill. The silence hadn’t be bad. Neither of them particularly disliked silence. But it had felt empty which was odd for them. This wasn't the silence of being alone together.

   “No.” She answered so instantly that it almost startled him. The matter of fact tone, the way her eyes opened only a crack to make sure none else were around to hear her answer. It was concerning. Estinien had half the mind to just pick her up and wander inside to whatever room she called her own in the Stones and wrap her in enough blankets that she’d be warm and well... That wouldn’t have done anything if she was upset beyond probably give her another reason to be upset.

   “What’s wrong then?” He asked instead, taking the novel approach he’d been trying of late of using his damn words rather than sitting in a corner and hoping someone explained things to him eventually.

   “Where should I begin?” There was a bitterness to her tone that he’d seen only once before. After the events in Ul’dah. After the apparent assassination of the Sultana, blame placed on the Warrior of Light and the scions, and the death of many of her friends. He furrowed his brow, trying to think of how to answer.

   “The Start, I know you know I’m not the best with words so help me understand so maybe I can be better with them.” He exhaled the waterfall of words like a Coerthan avalanche and hoped she was fast enough to dodge the snowfall. Else he might have started her and he’d kick himself in the legs later.

   “Well then, let me say I’ve never been alright, Estinien. I’m just very good at faking bravery until it works. I’m terrified. I’ve always been terrified that one misstep on any of our parts now can just... break the world!” She unwound her arms from him and looked despondent at her palms,hidden by the omnipresent fingerless black gloves worn with time and constant usage till the fabric upon the upright hands were paper thin.  She balled them into fists, sharp nails piercing the fabric in already known locations. She’d done this sort of angry motion time and again.

   “You won’t though.” He tried to console, his words not false but too easy. Not conveying the fullness of what he thought. Something he knew the moment she pulled away. Eyes open with a scared rage that he’d seen once before as well. But he tried not to think how dangerously close he came to killing her that day on the Steps of Faith.

   “You don’t know that!” She exclaimed, slamming those balled fists onto her own lap in exasperation. Looking up at him with those wide terrified eyes he hated seeing. “No one does!” Perhaps it was in a way hopeful, this uncertainty in the future but it didn’t feel that way to her at this moment.

   “I know I don’t, and I know normally it would be you chastising me for jumping to the worst conclusion. But...” She exhaled and he found his words lacking. Stalling and falling off, like they were broken keys on a piano that ruined whatever song he was attempting. Her eyes fell from the terror and what replaced them was a sad, accepting smile. One he’d never seen before, and hoped he never would again.

   “You don’t have to say anything you know. It’s probably just good I got that off my chest.” She laughed, shaking her head at herself. It was good to air that but it didn’t deal with the problem she was well aware of. It just took the top level off the simmering pot and prevented it from overflowing once more.  

   “I want to, though. I want you to know that your fear is...” He pleaded, taking her hands in his one at a time, gently running a finger across her knuckles in some vain attempt to soothe her nerves that actually did a bit more than he thought it would. Her shoulders dropped and she looked away, down at the now empty streets of the adventuring town.

   “It’s good. It means you’re aware of what’s on the line. It’s terrible and eating at your heart obviously, but it means you’re not blind to what's at risk for your dreams of a better future." He leaned forward, lowering his voice not out of fear that someone might dare hear the former Azure Dragoon be soft - that sort of fear died the moment he made that recent mistake in Ishgard - but out of the intimacy it provided with his head now gently resting against her own. He could see the faint tears she blinked away time and again, see the exhaustion bleeding from her brows and hear the whisper she tried to hide.

   “Sometimes I wish I was...” One of those damn tears she had been trying so hard to restrain fell down her cheek in a silent sod. Leaving a clear pathway in the days dirt she had yet been unable to clear. Hells, she probably hadn't had a chance to clean herself up since the fights in Thanalan.

   “If you were, you'd be no better than Ilberd." He whispered in turn, allowing an edge into his hidden gentleness at that traitor's name. The pain he had caused Voss was inexorably present, still in her heart. The trust she had for him, the one who so willingly put up with her endless questions about  home without growing bored with the Half Elezen, the one who slew their people for brilliant dreams of freedom stained red with innocent blood. He shook his head, bad words really on his part given a second tear joined the first.

"I know but-" She shivered like the cold wind in the night was frigid icy blades digging into her skin, her soul even. She choked back a sob that she refused to let air. Proud. She was always proud. That much was true. “It... hurts.” She grasped at her chest balling up the ripped fabric of her shirt. She’d need to mend that later.

"Your heart is a wonderfully heavy burden to bear" He whispered, holding her in his arms firm, while one of his scarred hands gently wiped at the growing sorrow staining her tired face. It wounded him to see her so, and at this point he wasn’t sure if it was his own softness upon her or the connection they held as dragoons. “It’s so wonderful, and open. You see the good in everyone, and even when you can’t you manage to fish out the good they can’t see. It’s just so filled with love and hope for the world. So heavy with the weight of your dreams.” He continued an avalanche of words he hoped were correct. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against her own.

"But, perhaps consider not bearing it alone." He released his hold on her the moment she burrowed her face into his chest. Her shaking less now, her breathing more steady but the tears falling much more readily. That worked. Thank Halone that worked. A fragile smile twitched at the edge of his lips as he brushed hair from her face. Her long tangled black waves not unlike a veil of mourning around her face. Of all those in the world, she deserved most to mourn.

Did this silence count as mourning? He wondered as he traced soothing circles upon her back as intermediary sobs escaped her, muffled by his wrinkled coat. He hoped it did. He very much hoped it did.

When she next spoke the moon was beginning it’s descent into day. How long had they sat there in silence? An eternity? Not long enough? He didn’t know. But when her hoarse voice did manage to reach his ears as she slowly looked up at him he listened.

“I think I’m going to go to bed now.” She chuckled faintly at her own words. What was she some young child demanding more time up only to realize the weight of sleep upon their backs? No. She was just tired. So tired and this had been such a long day.

“Let me walk you back then.” It wasn’t a request or a question. It was really a demand and he hoped it didn’t sound like one. Unwinding his arms from around her swung his legs back towards the safety of the hard ground of the roof before reaching out with his spear and returning it to its place on his back.

“It’s just my room Estinien, I’m not going to get lost.” She chuckled once more, joining him by standing and showing she didn’t actually mind the idea of once more threading her fingers with his and giving a tired squeeze.

“Just, please. I’ve missed you after all.” He reached for her other hand to do the same, stopping it from reaching the door that would lead into the top floor of the Rising Stones, and only a really short walk to her room. Top floor. So she could do just this. Hide and brood up high like all dragoons should.

She huffed loudly, attempting to cross her arms across her chest but they were captive and she didn’t dare free them. “Fine. Fine. I guess that’s alright, given I’ve missed you too.” She shook her head, the smiling growing by the second. Ah, little victories. Freeing but one of his hands he pushed open the wooden door and bowed. Waiting for her to walk through and drag him with her.

[squisherific]

Rain Drop Chapter 6

A/N: *yells echoingly into the void* Helloooo therrrre… Man has it been a very long time since I made a tumblr post, let alone wrote any fanfiction. To those who are unaware (which is probably everyone), I had begun a story many years ago about Juvia’s past. It was called Rain Drop, and it has 5 previous chapters up on fanfiction.net

I'm so sorry to those who had liked this story. I both can and can't believe it's been 4 years since I last updated it (and 2 years since I’ve written any fanfiction at all). To be perfectly honest, I didn't think I'd ever continue this story. But something struck me the other day. I reread this fic, and the kind reviews from readers, and I just got the itch to continue, because I really, really miss writing, and I especially missed writing about Gray and Juvia. I can't promise I'm going to end up finishing this, but this is a step in the right direction? This chapter is dedicated to everybody who's ever encouraged me to continue this fic, and to anyone still reading. If there are people still interested in this story, I can not thank you enough for your patience. This is for you. <3

Chapter 6 - A Breezy Visit

Gray felt abnormally aware of his right hand as he made his way through Magnolia, and towards the outskirts of the town. He normally didn't pay this much attention to any particular one of his appendages. He just let them do their thing, and trusted all was well. But on this particular day, his right hand was clutching onto the left hand of Juvia Lockser, and his previous faith in his hand's abilities had all but vanished, resulting in his acute awareness of every bead of sweat currently collecting between his and Juvia's linked palms. It didn't help that he felt like every person they passed on the way to their destination was taking note of their clasp-handed position, and grinning amusedly to themselves as the two mages hurried past.

Why did I grab her hand? I didn't need to do that. She could just follow me to Gildarts' house. I could let go, and carry on as if nothing happened. But would she get upset if I took my hand away? She is holding it pretty firmly, so it would probably be pretty awkward if I just stopped holding her hand back.

These were the thoughts that passed through Gray Fullbuster's mind as he decided he would continue to hold Juvia's hand, not because he enjoyed it - definitely not that- but because he wanted to be emotionally supportive towards his friend, who was going through a rough time right now. Yes, that's why he'd continue to allow his sweaty palm to press up against Juvia's soft grip. He was a very good friend, and that's all there was to it.

"Gray-sama?"

Juvia's voice interrupted Gray's internal dilemma.

"Yeah?"

"Do you really think it's possible Gildarts-san will know something about Juvia's parents?"

"It's worth a shot. That old guy loves to reminisce though, so if we're not careful he might go off on a tangent, and we'll be stuck there until nightfall."

"Juvia won't mind, especially if he did have the answers Juvia has been seeking! Juvia would gladly listen as long as it takes!" she said, excited at the possibility that Gildarts could provide a window into her past at last.

Gray seemed a lot less enthused at that prospect of being stuck in Gildarts' place for hours into the night. But, if it meant keeping Juvia out of harm's way, and preventing her from going off on a hunt for a possibly dangerous Jose Porla instead, he would gladly suffer through Gildarts taking a long, and winding trip down memory lane. He just hoped they weren't walking into a dead end, because Gray had no back up plan to distract Juvia from her desired mission. He had promised Master Makarov he'd keep her safe, and even without that promise, it was something he always strived to do anyway. He could not fail.

They'd reached the far edges of the town, and Gray steered them slightly passed an overgrown forested area, before entering a slight clearing with a cobbled path which led to the S-class mage’s humble cabin. They both took note of the tufts of smoke coming out of the stout chimney, signaling someone was definitely home. They smiled at each other, glad to not have traveled there in vain, and headed towards the door.

Gray knocked a few times and waited.

At first there was no answer, but then a sound of what must have been several pots and pans clattering to the floor reverberated through the open window, before the door burst open.

Standing in the doorway, looking happily expectant, was the auburn-haired, and battled-scarred S- class mage of Fairy Tail. However his expression seemed to falter, and twist into one of polite bemusement at his surprise guests' presence.

"Oh! I thought you two were Cana finally accepting her dad's invitation to a home cooked meal," he said, gesturing inside.

Gray and Juvia peered behind him as the mess that could only be classified as Gildarts' kitchen came into view. He had clearly been attempting to cook, the lit fire within his home waiting patiently for the pot, which he had filled with some mysterious gloopy substance, clearly the subject of Gildarts 'home cooked meal.'

"Nope, we haven't seen Cana today," Gray said, as Gildarts looked hopefully around them, as if Cana was about to pop out of a nearby bush at any moment, to finally fulfill her dad's wish for more bonding time. "It's just us here," Gray assured him.

Gildarts, shaking off his disappointment, finally looked back down at them, giving them both a once over, his eyes lingering on their clasped hands. He grinned.

"You two out on a date?" a playful twinkle in his eye as he observed their flustered reactions.

Gray finally did let go of Juvia's hand at this comment. "No," he said, a little too insistently.

Juvia looked crestfallen.

"Now, now, that's no way to treat a lady, Gray!" He chastised him lightly, as he smoothly brushed past Gray to usher Juvia inside. "Come in,, come in! It's Juvia, isn't it? You're good friends with Cana. I'm sure she won't be too upset if I treat you to a meal in her place. Don't be shy, there's plenty to share. Do you like wine, Juvia?"

Juvia was gently directed inside the warm cabin, a look of bewilderment coloring her features, while Gray had the door slammed in his face, leaving him standing alone outside.

That perverted old fart, Gray thought angrily. He lingered there annoyed for at least a couple of minutes, hoping one of the two would remember he was still there, before knocking on the closed door again, this time much more aggressively than when he had first arrived.

Gildarts reappeared. "Can I help you?" he asked, as if this were the first time he had met Gray, and as if Gray hadn't arrived with Juvia only a few minutes ago.

Speaking of Juvia, Gray could now see she was sitting down with a cup of tea in her hand, likely having refused the wine offer from Gildarts.

Gray ignored him, and irritatedly walked passed Gildarts into the house to join Juvia.

"How rude," Gildarts muttered none too silently to himself, as Gray pulled up a chair next to Juvia, sitting down, arms crossed and scowling.

Closing the door behind him, Gildarts sat down to join them. Apparently after he had guided Juvia inside, he had put the pot filled with the mysterious substance onto the fire, and it was now bubbling away behind them.

"So," Gildarts said after a moment. "What can I do for you. Want some love advice? I've got lots of tips," his eyebrows raised suggestively.

"Stop messing around!" Gray spat, his face reddening. "This is serious, old man! Juvia is here to ask you about her parents!"

"Her parents…" Gidarts said, sobering… He gave Juvia a thorough appraisal, and seemed to go into concentrated revelry. "Oh man, were there any blue-haired ladies…."

"NOT YOU," Gray said quickly.

Juvia blushed.

"Juvia is just trying to find information about her parents. She doesn't remember who they were. Gramps clearly seems to have known them, but he won't tell Juvia anything, so we were wondering if maybe you had met them before, and could tell her something about them, " Gray explained.

Gildarts relaxed, leaning back in his chair. "I was going to say, imagine having two daughters who both happened to end up in the same guild I was a part of. What would be the odds, right?" Gildarts laughed, but then got suddenly serious again, as his eyes fell back on Juvia. He studied her, as she looked back self-consciously.

"You know, come to think of it, you do remind me of someone," he said.

"Juvia does?" she asked, a pang of hope in her heart.

"Where are you from originally?"

"Juvia isn't sure. She was left in an orphanage in Hargeon. The most information the people running the orphanage could tell her, was that an old woman had dropped Juvia off there when Juvia was one-years old, but Juvia never did find the identity of the old woman. She doesn't know if she was a relation, or not."

Gildarts seemed to contemplate this information. "Your last name is Lockser?"

Juvia nodded.

"Hmmmm, well I can tell you I don't know anybody with that name. But you do bear a striking resemblance to an old friend of mine."

Gray didn't like the way Gildarts emphasized the word friend. "Who was this friend?"

"A former member of the magic council. She was a gorgeous girl, dark hair, piercing eyes, really feisty," he said, as his eyes glazed over, clearly having traveled back into some kind of indecent memory.

Gray and Juvia were discomfited.

"Oii! We're still here you know," Gray jolted him out of his reverie.

"Relax," he said, catching a look at their expressions. "It wasn't that type of relationship," he assured them, sighing in a good natured, but dejected sort of way. "Not for lack of trying, of course. She was my friend's girl."

"Your friend?"

"Benny. Benjamin 'Fluid' Dackser," he replied, as he grabbed the bottle of wine he had offered Juvia earlier, and took a sip.

"Fluid?"

"He was a water mage."

Juvia's eyes widened at this information.

"Water?!"

"Yeah. So that was his nickname. Ol' Benny Flu Dackser," a sad smile crossed Gildarts' face. "Man, he was such a pain in the ass," he chuckled. "It's pretty pointless crashing apart water, you know? It just comes right back together again."

"He could turn into water? Like Juvia does?!"

"Yup, it was his specialty. Not a good match for me, as he couldn't help to remind me every time we had a friendly fight. And we were both always trying to impress Sylvi. He won her in the end, that bastard. Ah, we were so young then. Not even twenty."

"Sylvi?" Gray asked.

"Sylvia Loten. A talented ice mage."

It was Gray's turn for his eyes to widen. "Ice?"

"Not on quite the same level as your old master Ur, I'm sure, but really talented all the same. I might not have been able to do much against Benny, but she was more than a match for him. It was great watching that cocky, lovestruck fool get beaten down by her. But she must have liked his persistent approach, because they ended up married."

"Benjamin-san and Sylvia-san…" Juvia mused to herself "did they have any children?"

"I lost touch with them both after they went into politics. They never joined a guild either, as far as I know. Like I said, Sylvi was a council member, and so was Benny - youngest council members ever at that point. It all happened while I was out on a major quest. By the time I came back, years had passed, and Benny and Sylvi had…" he trailed off somberly.

"They died?" Juvia concluded, her face stricken.

"Yeah."

"How?" Gray asked, almost afraid of the answer as he looked over at Juvia.

"Supposedly drowned," he said flatly.

"Drowned?! No way!"

Juvia agreed emphatically with Gray. "Benjamin-san was a water mage, how could he have drowned?"

"Just because you specialize in a type of magic doesn't mean you are immune to it's dangers," he explained, his mood had darkened considerably, the wine bottle's contents now severely depleted as he went on. "But again, that's just what I heard. Their bodies were found off the coast of Akane beach."

"Was the drowning an accident, or…" Gray trailed off.

"I don't know. But let's put it this way, I doubt they suffered a boating incident, and they couldn't save themselves. Doesn't make sense. Not for those two," Gildarts admitted.

"Terrible," was all Juvia could think to say as the three let a silence fall within the messy cabin, the only sound being the bubbling contents of the copper pot in the fireplace.

Juvia couldn't believe there had been another water mage. She'd never met anyone else who could use water magic other than herself. And she had been able to use it for as long as she could remember. It wasn't something she had studied to learn, which is usually the case for mages. People aren't born knowing magic. But for whatever reason, Juvia could instinctively control water, and as used to be the case, there were things she couldn't control about it as well - that constant rain that plagued her for so long. Water had literally been tied into her emotions - her very being - whether she liked it or not. It was a rare ability. A rare magic.

And yet this Benjamin Dackser was also a water mage. And he died. She couldn't imagine this skilled water mage, someone who could best Gildarts, could be drowned - and his talented ice mage wife as well. How? Why? Juvia had so many questions. The greatest of all being, could these two people have been her parents?

"Gildarts-san?" Juvia began, breaking the silence. "You said I remind you of Sylvia-san?"

"Yeah…" he said, studying her again, "the more I look at you, the more I think you look just like her. Same eyes, same pale skin, you even act a little like her. She was real regal, you know? You are very similar. Except for the hair. Her's was a very dark grey, almost black," he recalled, his voice a little slurred from the wine he had been using to dull the pain of his somber recollections.

"What color was this Benny guy's hair?" Gray asked.

Gildarts simply pointed to Juvia's hair in response.

Juvia's heart skipped a beat.

"You think they were Juvia's parents?" Gray came right out and asked what they were all currently wondering.

The question hung heavy in the air.

Juvia's fists clenched in anxiety.

Gildarts looked from Gray to Juvia, a pained expression on his face. He shook his head. "I never heard anything about them having a kid… but, there's a lot I don't know. I was gone for so long. I would think people who were on the council with them would know a lot more about anything like that. I knew them best when we were all still just a bunch of brats."

"How long were they on the council?"

"Not long. A few years, I think. And that was nearly 30 years ago now."

"Who do we know on the magic council who would talk to us?" Gray pondered. "None of them have ever exactly been the biggest fans of Fairy Tail. Plus, so many of them who might have been on the council with Benjamin and Sylvia are now…." Gray's thoughts wandered to the mass murder at the hands of the Tartarus members.

Another heavy silence fell.

"Yajima-san?" Juvia said tentatively, recalling the tiny man who ran the 8-island restaurant she once waitressed at with some of the other Fairy Tail ladies.

"Oh yeah, Gramp's friend. He's ancient, and he was on the council for ages," Gray recalled hopefully. "We could take a trip out to his restaurant in Hargeon and ask him if he knows anything more about these two."

"Let's do so," Juvia agree immediately, so grateful that Gray had suggested they go to Hargeon. This meant he intended to continue to accompany her on this quest of hers. Her heart was so burdened at the thought of possibly finding out who her parents were, only to be left with more devastating questions about their awful fate, and how she might tie into it. So, Gray's companionship served to lift that weight considerably.

"Thank you so much, Gildarts-san. You've been such a great help. Your information was truly invaluable," she said in earnest, getting up from her chair and heading towards the door. Gray followed closely behind.

"Wait! You sure you guys don't want to stay and eat? The stew is almost ready!" he pointed back towards the now overflowing muck bubbling out of his copper pot.

"That's very kind of you, Gildarts-san," Juvia eyed the stew in trepidation, "but we really have much to do if we are going to be leaving for Hargeon soon. But thank you for your hospitality, and the tea!" she added, leaving the warmly lit cabin behind her. The sun was setting as she stepped out into the clear air.

Gray was about to join her when Gildarts caught a hold of his arm and pulled him back.

"Hey!" Gray said, alarmed as Gildarts leaned close to him, his grip vice-like.

"Listen," Gildarts said, his tone uncharacteristically dire, "if Gramps didn't want to tell Juvia anything about her parents, then he likely had a damn good reason for it, and that reason was probably that he thinks there's danger involved. And if Gramps thinks looking for information on her parents is dangerous, then it probably is. I've only heard conspiracy theories about Benny and Sylvi's deaths, but if even one of them is true, Juvia could be headed into some serious trouble. I feel for her, I do. But if Benny and Sylvi were her parents, then there's nothing left to find."

Gray considered Gildarts words of warning. He looked towards Juvia, who was waiting patiently at the end of the cobbled path for him to join her. He again thought back to that night at the guild, and how hurt she was at never having known her family. "Juvia has a right to know the truth. If I can help her find at least that, then I'm going to do so," Gray said firmly. "And if there's danger, I'll protect her no matter what."

A/N: When rereading the previous chapters of this, I honestly didn't think I could continue the story no matter how much I wanted to. I genuinely didn't remember where I was going with the plot since it had been so long. But, thank goodness I had notes for future chapters saved. ;_; Otherwise this chapter would not exist right now. Anyway, if anyone is still reading, please do let me know with a review. But if everyone has abandoned this story, as I once did, then at least I can say I enjoyed writing this again. ^_^

[raendown]

For the @madatobiweek prompt the was only one bed. 

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 5104 Rated: T+ Summary: Hashirama runs in to an old friend unexpectedly and Tobirama - well. Tobirama would like to have a firm chat with life's manager. No way is it fair for any human being to look that delicious.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

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Woodn’t It Be Nice

‘Just an old friend from middle school’ Hashirama had called him. Tobirama didn’t doubt that part, his brother had a habit of befriending every person that crossed his path by sheer force of will, but he found himself slightly upset that Hashirama hadn’t seen fit to warn him even a little bit before introducing him to the human wet dream known as Uchiha Madara.

Madara had, at one point, big plans to follow along with the dreams his family had for him to become some big business exec. Evidently those dreams had been cast aside at some point when he realized the high stress lifestyle was not how he wanted to spend his years. Tobirama didn’t really see how anyone went from business school to taking up a career in lumberjacking but he was hardly about to complain. Living in the deep woods and hauling trees for a living had clearly done wonders for Madara’s figure. 

And Tobirama really wanted a piece of that.

It was truly unfair how good that man made tartan look considering how many times Tobirama had snuck in to his brother’s closet only to despair that such patterns still didn’t suit him. Also high up on his list of unfair things was the sheer mass of all that thick dark hair falling in wavy tangles and how utterly scrumptious he looked without, apparently, having yet discovered the socially accepted function of a hairbrush. Given time and a good keyboard Tobirama was sure he could have produced a thesis length paper on why he should be allowed to bury his hands in all that hair. Two on why he should be allowed to touch that chest.

Because wow the chest. With a rib cage the size and general shape of a barrel and a waist line built for standing his ground against at least a smaller sized tank, it was almost enough to distract Tobirama from the thick muscle outlines clearly visible under the flannel – almost, but not quite. If he looked any harder his eyes might actually fall out of his head but he couldn’t seem to stop or even convince his mouth to close. 

Using his mind to juxtapose the image of an ax over those stubby thick fingers, Tobirama swallowed hard and wondered how many people had tried to pick this man up with some sort of bad wood puns. And more importantly whether that would work for him too. He definitely had some wood sprouting up that he wouldn’t mind letting Madara take care of. 

“What do you think Tobi?”

“Glorious…”

“Right? I do have good ideas sometimes!”

“Huh?” He turned to find Hashirama beaming at him but his brother was already turning away without giving him a moment to clarify that he hadn’t actually been paying attention to the conversation. 

Clapping his old friend on both shoulders, Hashirama smiled so wide he nearly split his own face in half. “You’ll love staying at our house. And you’ll love sharing a room with Tobi!” 

“Wait, what!?” Maybe he shouldn’t have taken quite so much time to admire that chest. 

Hashirama laughed. “You didn’t think I’d make him sleep on the couch did you? Not when you have a perfectly good spare bed in your room!” 

“But that- that’s Itama’s bed. What if Itama comes home?” Growing up with four boys in the same house, each only a few years apart from the others, it still felt wasteful for all of them to sleep in separate rooms even now that they were older and Hashirama’s job at the hospital had paid for a much larger house. It didn’t matter that Tobirama had actually been getting a little lonely while their two younger brothers were off at university in another city. Extra space or not there was no way he would survive sleeping in the same room with Madara unless he was granted an hour or so of alone time first. And knowing his older brother’s enthusiasm for socializing that wasn’t likely to happen. 

“Itama called last night,” Hashirama reminded him with an absent smile. “He’s off this weekend with his roommate to some concert happening a city away from them. I would ask Madara to sleep in Kawarama’s room but he’s still not over that cold he’s been fighting all week. We wouldn’t want our guest to get sick!”

“Appreciated,” Madara grunted. 

Slightly panicked, Tobirama cast about in his mind for any other excuse he could think of. “What if I’ve caught it too? He'd still get sick.”

“Nonsense, Kawa hasn’t let anyone near him except the dog. Neither of us is sick.”

“I don’t know, Anija, I feel pretty warm.”

“Maybe because it’s like a hundred degrees out,” Hashirama laughed. “Come now, Tobi, if you keep saying stuff like that I’m going to think you don’t want Madara in your room!” 

One look at those massive flannel-clad arms and Tobirama quickly swallowed his next words. The man could probably crush his head without thought and as delicious as it was to imagine being caught between those biceps he was also quite fond of living. While his brother threw an arm around broad shoulders Tobirama forced his eyes to look elsewhere, contemplating the restless night ahead.

Thankfully for his sanity he was at least able to sit alone in the backseat on the drive back from the hotel Hashirama just happened to spot his old friend going in to. Madara sat up front and nodded or grunted along to the man’s endless chatter. The backseat was quiet, free of tempting muscles, and gave Tobirama all the room he needed to stretch his legs across the width of the car. He noted Madara stealing glances at him in the rearview mirror several times but it was hard to tell what expression might be hiding under that scruffy beard. The fact that it was apparently due to be shaved off at the first opportunity was probably one of the greatest tragedies this world had ever seen. 

As a history buff Tobirama felt particularly qualified to make that call. 

When Madara was finally encouraged to speak more than a word or two strung together he told them how he had come to be in town with no plans and nowhere to stay. Apparently his younger brother Izuna still lived in Konoha and he’d planned his vacation to make a surprise visit. Except he was the one surprised to discover the house locked, one of the neighbors calling over to him that the whole family had left on a vacation of their own just a few days before. 

“Good thing we caught you then!” Hashirama declared. “No point in spending money on a lonely hotel room for two weeks when you could be catching up with me! I can’t believe how little you’ve changed!” 

“Really?” Tobirama muttered under his breath. If Madara had looked like this back in middle school he definitely would have remembered a face like that. Puberty would no doubt have smacked him in the face several years earlier. 

After a slow blink Madara grunted, “Beard.” That was, apparently, all he had to say on the matter. 

Never before in his life had Tobirama been quite so grateful to arrive home as he was that day, spilling out of the car and heading for the door as if all the devils of hell were chasing him. He made it in to the kitchen with enough time to set the kettle boiling and slip back out towards his bedroom before the other two even made it inside. The planet earth itself would fall out of its heavenly rotation before he let Madara walk in and see the absolute mess he typically lived in, research notes strewn here and there, clothing left on the floor where it was shed after yet another twenty hour binge on the latest project. No one needed to know the shame of his bedroom during the months when Itama was gone.

Just as he kicked out a foot to steady a precarious stack of textbooks the door opened and Hashirama cheerfully invited their guest in to a room that wasn’t even his. Madara blinked around, eyes pausing on the one bed that had clearly not seen any recent use. 

“Hope you didn’t clean up or anything,” he said. “It’s just me.”

“Oh don’t worry, Tobi’s always really clean!” Hashirama chirped, oblivious to his brother’s uncomfortable shifting. 

“Right. Where can I drop this?” 

Madara held up the duffel he’d been carrying when they spotted him on the street. When told he could put it anywhere he liked it was tossed on the floor with little care, a sure sign there wasn’t anything too breakable inside. A moment later he seemed to think the better of his actions and asked where the bathroom was as he stepped across to riffle in one of the duffle’s pockets. 

As quickly as he had hurried to his own bedroom Tobirama was gone again just like that. The kettle should be going off any second and he was pretty sure if he stuck around for Madara to come out of the shower all damp and delicious and possibly half naked - well, suffice to say the police probably wouldn’t accept any of the excuses running through his mind just then. 

Like it always did, a large hot cup of tea helped to settle him in his skin, leaving him feeling much more in control of his own reactions by the time Hashirama came back downstairs. His brother gave vent to a gusty contented sigh while he poured a cup for himself. 

“It’s hard to believe Uchiha Madara of all people is upstairs in my home!” he said. “Honestly I didn’t think I’d ever see him again. But, isn’t it funny, i was just thinking about him the other day!”

“Whatever keeps you going when Mito tells you to bite the pillow,” Tobirama murmured. 

“No! Ew! It’s not- hey! She doesn’t make me do anything like that!” Hot tea sloshed all over the counter as Hashirama slammed his cup back down and bent double to gag exaggeratedly. Sometimes it was hard to believe he had failed drama in highschool what with all the dramatics he filled every day with. 

Tobirama let the poor idiot catch his breath a little before daring to ask, “He taking a shower before dinner?”

“Um, I guess so. He didn’t say. What would you like to eat?”

Dinner - fish, of course, since the choice was left to him - was about as quiet as meals in their house ever got with Hashirama chattering endlessly. Amazingly Madara actually seemed to be listening to it all, nodding in the right places or humming in tandem with Tobirama whenever it was needed. It was nearly impossible to tell what was actually going on in his mind and Tobirama hated himself just a little for being so desperately intrigued by it. He’d never loved anything more than puzzles, taking things apart to see what made them tick, digging and digging until he ran out of questions to answer. People like Madara were exactly the sort of rare person who were able to hold his attention. 

Even more so since their guest came down for the evening meal with a clean shaven face, dark shaggy beard sacrificed to the waste bin upstairs, and Tobirama came to the horrifying conclusion that it needed to be glued back in place as soon as possible. Surely it had to be illegal for any human being to walk around looking as delicious as this. It wasn’t fair.

Under normal circumstances he would have said that going to bed was a relief, being allowed to crawl between familiar sheets and allow the privacy of his own room to unclench the tensions in his body. With Madara stumping in to the room after him he knew that he had nothing to look forward to but a few hours of restlessness until he gave in and snuck off to shame himself in the bathroom down the hall. Itama’s ancient bedframe gave a mighty creak the first time its new resident sat down. Normally it bore a much lighter load than all the rippling muscles clinging to Madara’s frame but it held up alright and the two of them were able to lay their heads down with goodnights murmured in to the darkness. 

Tobirama lasted only an hour and a half. He really hoped the other man only thought he was getting up to pee. 

During the day things weren’t so bad. For the most part Madara spent his time with Hashirama getting dragged from one end of the city to the other to re-experience all the things they had done in their childhood together. It was actually somewhat of a relief not to be the center of his brother’s attention for a while, left blissfully alone to work on his research and occasionally greet the ghost of Kawarama whenever he ambled past for food or water before holing up again. With one sibling down for the count and the other away for university the task of indulging Hashirama’s ceaseless energy had fallen entirely to him and it wasn’t until he was finally able to be productive again that he realized just how little he’d been getting done lately. 

Even meal times weren’t too terrible if he kept his eyes on his food instead of the tasty meal he would rather be having across the table. It was the evenings when he truly suffered. Getting Madara to come out of his shell and actually engage in conversation had taken a couple days, out of practice as he was from spending most of the few years quietly knocking and hauling lumber, but once he finally opened his mouth long enough to say more than two words together Tobirama was exasperated to discover a mind as beautiful as his face. Was there any way this man wasn’t perfect for him? The universe must be having a grand laugh at him, that was the only explanation he could think of. 

Still, as much havoc as it wreaked on his libido it was wonderful to have someone else to converse with who could actually keep up with him. Madara understood the basic concepts of his research, asked intelligent questions, even offered a few philosophical insights that Tobirama himself hadn’t thought of. If he didn’t want the man in his bed so badly it hurt he might have been tempted to offer him a job as a research assistant. 

He saw the signs coming from a mile away of course. Stopping it was impossible, though he still gave it the old college try. Catching feelings for his brother’s friend, a man who was only in town for a few weeks and then would likely never be back again, was probably one of the stupider things he had ever done. Tobirama wanted to be mad at the idiot for not just being a pretty face he could seduce and then let go of but it wasn’t like it was Madara’s fault that he checked every box on a lonely albino’s list. He probably wasn’t even aware of how tempting he was. Tobirama really hoped the poor man hadn’t noticed all the drooling and staring and whatnot. 

For a little over two weeks things went on like that, so close and yet so far, sleeping in the same room and slipping away to the bathroom for a while just to get himself to sleep. Even as a teenager his body hadn’t ruled him this much. If their family hadn’t been raised to be so frugal it was entirely possible that nothing would have changed, that they would have parted ways as nothing more than a what-if. But Itama loved that old bed no matter how it creaked and groaned and so none of them had ever thought of replacing the ancient thing until one night Madara flopped down on to the mattress and with a loud protest the entire frame shattered underneath him. Almost more shocking that that was the indignant squawk that gurgled up his throat, so unlike the smooth deep baritone he usually spoke in. Tobirama could do nothing but stare from where he stood halfway through the motion of getting up, one arm outstretched, and try to process what had just happened. Apparently all that muscle was too much for the bed to handle. 

He could relate.

“Are you okay?” he asked. Madara blinked up from the center of the now very lumpy looking mattress.

“I’ve been better.”

“You didn’t hurt anything did you?”

“No. Well, I think I hurt the bed.” With a groan he rolled off the mess and stumbled to his feet where he stood looking down with a wry expression. “I’ll pay for that.”

Money was not exactly the most pressing concern on Tobirama’s mind at the moment. “That, ah, is that just some of the frame pressing up from underneath?”

Praying to all of his ancestors that the mattress was still usable even if it had to rest on the floor, he watched the other man haul the entire thing up with one hand like it weighed no more than a feather and tried not to whimper. With no light but the moonbeams twisting around the curtains it was easy to see there was nothing directly under the mattress that would make such shapes. 

“Bunch’a springs broke under the pressure, I think,” Madara concluded. When he let the whole thing drop back down it did so with a muffled thud much like Tobirama’s heart inside his chest. “Guess I won’t be sleeping there anymore.”

“Not unless you want metal springs digging in to your spine all night long.”

Madara nodded slowly. “Couch it is, then.” 

“I don’t think that’s going to be an option,” Tobirama reluctantly called the man back before he could get halfway to the door. He tried not to be obvious about cringing when Madara turned to pin him in place with dark eyes turned obsidian by the shadows around them.

“Why not?” 

“You’ve been here an entire week and I’ve never once seen you sit comfortably on the sofa. It’s just not built to hold someone of your...stature.”

For the space of three heartbeats Madara did nothing but stare and blink. Then he sighed and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose with one hand because it was true. Hashirama had bought most of their living room furniture for his tiny wife and his three whipcord thin brothers; he himself preferred to disappear in to the single cushy armchair that could actually hold his tall frame. If Madara went to go sleep on either of the two couches he would probably roll off the first time he tried to take a full breath in. 

Genius that he was, Tobirama had already done the calculations. He already knew what doom was about to fall upon him. In their house there were four beds for four people and two couches. One of those beds already had two people in it, Mito quietly arriving home from her work trip earlier that evening. Another contained one highly contagious whiny Kawarama and stank of dog after several days of the two curled up together in it. Now the third bed had collapsed, frame and mattress and all, leaving only one other place left as an option for sleeping.

Tobirama squirmed. Why had he ever thought it was necessary to buy such a roomy bed? He was only one person, surely a twin mattress would have held him and saved him from eyeing the several feet of unused space at his side with defeat in his bones. It was this or ask Madara to sleep on the floor. 

“So if I can’t sleep on the couches then where the hell am I supposed to sleep?” He even eyed the carpet as though wondering whether it was plush enough to let him get some rest but one night wasn’t the problem. Laying flat out on the ground for several days in a row would do murder on anyone’s back and just because his job left him in the wilds for months at a time didn’t mean he had to play at camping even in his off time. 

“I’ve got room here,” Tobirama forced himself to say.

“You don’t have any sort of air mattress or anything?” 

“Not anymore, no. Our dog got in to the closet and chewed them all last summer.” 

He watched the other man nodding slowly, a small frown drawing his brows together, and wondered if the option was really so detestable to consider. The offer was on the tip of his tongue to ask if Mito would share a bed with him instead for a few days so Madara could rest beside the friend he had much better reason to trust but the words never had a chance to be spoken. 

“You don’t kick or anything, do you?” 

“No,” he murmured, hardly daring to breathe. 

“Right.” 

Then Madara snatched up the same pillow he’d been using for the last couple weeks since Tobirama only had the one on his own bed and stumped across the room with all the grace of a bear. As unsexy as that image was Tobirama still managed to find his thoughts in the gutter, privately thinking that he wouldn’t mind taking up bear wrestling if this was his opponent. 

Somehow he managed to keep such thoughts to himself as the mattress dipped to accommodate more than double the weight it was used to. Convincing the anatomy inside his trousers that it was not Go Time was a little more difficult to do. Tobirama carefully rolled on to the side facing away from his new bed partner; at least in this position he was only tenting his own clothing rather than the bedding as well. Nothing could possibly make his desires more obvious. After a moment’s pause he felt Madara shifting around and finding a position to settle in to as well, hopefully facing away from him though he couldn’t exactly see what was going on. When the movement finally stopped he cleared his throat. 

“Night,” he mumbled awkwardly. Madara grunted, which he had learned was about the equivalent of him saying it back. 

In the silence that followed Tobirama dearly regretted leaving the curtains cracked. Just that small amount of light made shadows on the wall for him to trace with his eyes and glare at as though they were the source of all his problems. If there were shadows on the wall that meant there was enough light for Madara to see if he threw back the covers and tried to escape to the bathroom. Not to mention that it would be much harder to sneak off even after the man had fallen asleep when there was a chance any shifting of the mattress could wake him again and alert him to Tobirama’s nightly embarrassment. 

He smothered a groan and curled a little tighter in to himself. Sleep was an impossibility when all he wanted was relief and there didn’t seem like a safe way to achieve that with the source of all his delicious miseries lying so close. It seemed he was doomed to simply lie here while his balls turned bluer and bluer. 

“Alright?” The word rumbled low in the space between them and Tobirama nearly leapt out of his skin. 

“What?”

“If you’re not feeling good I don’t want to catch anything.”

Clenching his fists he grumbled, “I’m not sick.”

“Seems like you’re not alright though,” his companion mused. 

“Oh and how would you know?”

A beat passed before Madara answered. When he did his tone sounded almost hesitant in a strange way. “You don’t usually sleep all curled up in a ball. Is it your stomach? Maybe dinner doesn’t agree with you.” 

Pausing in his prayers for death to take him in a localized strike of lightning, Tobirama frowned in to the darkness. It wasn’t such an unusual question - or it wouldn’t have been if they had known each other for any appropriate length of time. He struggled over whether or not to say something until finally his curiosity couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Do you...watch me sleep?”

Choking sounds accompanied the sudden brush of air against the back of his neck, startling enough that he instinctively shot up on to one elbow so he could twist around. There he was greeted with the sight of Madara spluttering and cutting his way through several disconnected syllables. It was hard to parse which part of the scene before him was the most shocking, the fact that Madara was quite obviously embarrassed or the fact that he had apparently settled down to sleep facing the center of the bed rather than away towards the wall. 

“I’m just...observant!” He finally managed to choke out. 

“While we’re both lying down on opposite sides of the room you somehow manage to observe my position every night when your eyes are supposed to be closed?” 

Madara flushed visibly. “I have trouble sleeping a lot. Sometimes I sit up for a while!” 

Fascinating as it was to see a new flustered side to such a composed man of so few words, Tobirama couldn’t truly enjoy this rare opportunity when he was distracted with yet another devastating revelation. 

“How long does it usually take you to get to sleep?” he whispered. 

“A couple hours.” The words had already passed the man’s lips before Madara seemed to realize what he had just given away.

“Oh.”

The two of them stared at each other, wide eyed and silent, as they both processed what the other now knew. If Madara was awake each night long enough to observe what position Tobirama fell asleep in then he was awake each night to observe him slipping out of bed and down the hall for much longer than one would need for a simple nightly piddle. He knew. And he hadn’t said anything. 

“It’s not every day,” Tobirama blurted without thinking. “I’m not some kind of obsessed nymphomaniac or anything.”

“Right.”

“I’m not!”

“Okay. So. Is it just...me then?” 

The twitch in his pants said yes but the flaming heat in his face, well, that probably also said yes despite what he would have preferred. All the genius in the world couldn’t help him think his way out of this particular spot, lying in the same bed with a man he could already feel himself developing very ill advised feelings for while that very man stared back at him processing the knowledge that he was very interested in taking up certain physical activities together. What would Hashirama do, he wondered, if he woke up tomorrow morning to discover that his little brother had been smothered to death by those glorious and very strong biceps?

“Didn’t mention it to your brother yet,” Madara finally spoke again. “Wanted Izuna’s opinion on the idea first. But I’ve been thinking about moving back in to town lately. I got a job offer at one of the factories.” 

“O-oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Think maybe you’d want to grab a coffee or something sometime?” Somehow the man was able to project both flawless confidence and an adorably unexpected shyness at the same time.

Tobirama nearly swallowed his own tongue trying to rein in his own frantic nodding. “I’d like that.” 

“Good, good.”

All plans for throwing himself off the edge of the earth were put on hold. How the hell he had missed his dream hunk returning any sort of interest was beyond him but the last thing he would be doing was complain about it. Who was he to say no when being handed everything he thought he couldn’t have? All wrapped up in a pretty package with gorgeous unruly hair, naturally pouty lips, and thighs he would be happy to have his head crushed between. Whatever small fragment of the universe had taken pity on him deserved a massive ethereal fruit basket in thanks for giving him this. 

“You wanna make out?” Madara cut in to his thoughts. “Or do we need to wait for that first date?”

“Now is good,” Tobirama breathed, already twisting the lower half of his body to face inwards as well. Maybe later he could take the time to be ashamed of his own enthusiasm but right now he had an entire beefcake to throw himself on and judging by the appreciative moan that greeted him it didn’t seem like Madara had any problems with that. 

He had already managed to roll himself on top of this woodsman adonis and gasp at the stretch in his thighs for how wide they had to open just to sit astride those hips when he paused, pulling away from quite possibly the most mind-bending kiss he’d ever experienced in his life.

“What’s your opinion on wood puns?” he mumbled. 

“I will kill you,” Madara replied with absolutely no inflection. 

“Noted. Can I wear your shirt tomorrow?” 

“You would look absolutely terrible in tartan.” One dark eyebrow lifted slowly, something like hunger gathering in the man’s eyes. “Sure.” 

Tobirama shivered and decided if he said anything else he would probably spill every dirty possessive thought his brain had ever come up with. It was much safer to dive in again and tremble under the feeling of large hands curling around his bottom. 

Maybe - maybe - he was glad that Hashirama had decided to take a different route home that day and happened to spot his old friend. A reward this good was definitely worth the torture of thinking it was all beyond his reach, that he would suffer through the stages of falling in love and then be forced to ssay goodbye when Madara left, to never see the man again. Whatever it took to convince him that moving back in to town was a good plan he would do it. Even if he had to track down this Izuna fellow himself and beg on his knees for a little support. 

For now the only thing he planned to do on his knees was moan, however. Possibly beg. That depended entirely on how far Madara was willing to go before they even made it out for a simple coffee or discussed anything between them with any sort of depth.

Whatever the case, he just really hoped his brother was well and truly asleep down the hall because he had zero plans for staying quiet after finally getting his hands on such a perfect dream. 

[naughtyneganjdm]

The Mistress - Chapter 40

Summary: The war continues with Rick and Negan while the reader tries to handle everything taking place around them. 

Characters: Reader, Negan, Simon, Dwight, Rick, Daryl, etc.

Warnings: Swearing, threat of rape, violence, blood, angst. 

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9366677/chapters/54195763

Notes:   So this chapter moves pretty quickly and jumps through time rather fast. It follows the end of season 8 pretty closely, so I figured I should let you guys know. Yes, it is very long, but people told me they would prefer it that way. Thank you to anyone that still has interest in this story! I'm sorry for any major spelling/grammar errors there are. It was a lot to read through on a night I'm pretty tired. This story follows TWD and I wanted to get closer to the newer seasons, so that’s kind of a spoiler I think, but oh well! Thanks again to anyone that reads! 

“Negan,” you tried catching Negan’s attention watching the way that plans were folding out in front of you after Eugene had managed to figure out an idea for getting the walkers away from the building. Negan was focused on work, not you. The two of you needed to talk. About what you knew with Dwight. About everything that was going on, but you were the last thing on Negan’s mind while he contemplated ideas and plans with the rest of The Saviors. “Negan?”

“Baby, not now,” Negan lifted his head up from where he was looking at the maps and you sighed heavily, moving to the corner of the room that Negan demanded you stay in with him. You sat down and waited. They were talking so much and so fast that you didn’t even get to catch what the plan was. You just heard them rambling and it caused your head to ache. So much was dropped in your lap all at once and you weren’t sure what to do with yourself. Hearing a whistle, you looked up to see Negan wiggling his fingers at you to beckon you to him. You got up and moved over toward where Negan was and felt him reaching out for your hands. “You’re coming with us; I don’t trust you being here alone without us.”

“Where are we going Negan?” you breathed feeling an ache at the center of your chest knowing that he was going to get revenge. That was what this was all about. Grabbing his outreached hands, you led him toward the corner of the room and reached up to caress over the sides of his face. You cupped his face in your hands and leaned in to brush a kiss over his lips. Negan’s hazel eyes seemed to be locked on yours as you shook your head. “Let’s go away. The two of us.”

“And do what? We’d have nothing,” Negan reminded you with a shake of his head. His Adam’s apple bounced in his throat as his lips parted. “A life with just you sounds amazing. It does and I wish I fucking could, but we’d have nothing. We’d have to start from step one and you are pregnant. We couldn’t do that. I couldn’t take you to a place where we have nothing.”

“We’d make it work,” you tried to suggest, but Negan was hearing none of it. His jaw was flexed and his eyes would barely look into yours. It was like he was ashamed of his answer and you felt your throat going dry. “Negan, this isn’t going to work. Please. Revenge, it only keeps going until one of you is dead.”

“And that’s what has to happen,” Negan insisted with a firm nod. “Someone has to die in order for me to be able to be with you fully. For our child to be safe. If I don’t handle this now, someone will come after you. Someone will come after my child and the only way for this to be over is for me to kill that prick.”

“Maybe talk it out with him Negan? Try to see eye to eye?” you offered up a thought and you squeezed his hands in yours. You tried to get him to look at you and you shrugged. You tried reaching out for Negan’s humanity because you knew it was there. You knew that he didn’t want to kill people, but he thought he had to. “For our baby, please…”

“It would never work Y/N,” Negan tried to explain, but you were almost begging him. You didn’t know how much more stress you could take with all of this happening. It was really wearing down on you. The world felt like it was on your shoulders and you were trying to figure out how to keep the man you loved from making a huge mistake.

“Please try,” you begged and could see Negan gulp down heavily. He was upset with your request, but you were hoping that it would leave some kind of effect on him. “I’ll come with you. Rick wouldn’t hurt a pregnant woman. He would understand. He will try to…”

“I don’t want you to be in harm’s way,” Negan hushed you and he shook his head, denying your suggestion. “Grimes may be one way, but everyone else…”

“I know,” you shook your head and tried to keep him focused. “But we can try for the future of our child and for us.”  

Negan thought for a long moment before nodding. You assumed that meant he was taking your request into consideration. He leaned in to press a loving kiss against your temple before stepping back. Eventually he walked away and left you to yourself while he got things together for the trip.

Negan had you get onto one of the trucks in the back when they were ready to leave for Alexandria. You were alone to yourself and you were surprised that he put you in a truck all alone. Negan made sure you were comfortable and safe, but it was very awkward. The silence didn’t help either. When you got to the destination, you looked to the doors of the large truck to see Negan pulling open the back and hopping up with you.

Negan pulled you to your feet with ease, making sure to be careful with you. There was a silence while he slid his hand in over your side and reached up with the other to caress over the side of your face, “I love you…you know that, right? I love you…so much.”

“Yeah?” you shifted on your feet, leaning into his gentle caress. Negan’s eyes were staring into yours and it showed that he was deep in thought while there was a silence between the two of you. Negan nodded and lifted his other hand up to cup at your face tenderly. His thumbs took their time to trace over your features and something felt off with all of this. “Negan?’

“Kiss me,” Negan ordered and you gave him a strange look. Negan nodded and you moved in to kiss him. His arms hooked around your hips while he kissed you slow. It was a long, drawn out moment where Negan’s lips softly kissed you over and over again. When he pulled away, his forehead moved in to rest against yours. “I love you.”

“I know you do. I really think if we just talk things out…” you tried to begin and Negan hushed you, reaching up to press his finger over your lips to silence you. You wanted to say everything on your mind about how you thought of begging for your future with your child to Rick.

“Before we do all that,” Negan whispered, his eyebrows tightening together. “I need you to grab me the bag from the corner over there.”

 “Which one?” you looked over your shoulder to see Negan nod toward the back corner where there were a lot of things set out. Moving over toward the area, you pushed a few things aside not seeing a bag where he directed. “Negan, there is nothing here that’s…”

Hearing the sound of the doors closing, you looked over your shoulder to see that Negan was gone and the doors were closed. Quickly moving toward the back of the truck, you tried to get out and realized by the sound outside of the truck that Negan had locked you in. He had agreed to your idea with Rick to get you to do what he wanted and when you were doing what he had asked of you, he left.

Hitting the door, you knew it was useless and damned yourself for realizing that Negan was never going to listen to you. Moving toward the back of the truck, you dropped down where you were sitting when they had driven to Alexandria. While you had actually believed that Negan was going to listen to you for once, you should have known better. After all you had been through with Negan, you should have known he would have taken what you said and ignored it completely. Negan had too much pride to beg.

Shifting inside of the truck, you waited. You didn’t know what the plan here was and you wished you would have listened to the plans they were coming up with when you were sitting in the room. There was just so much going on that you didn’t know what to do. The distant sound of Negan’s voice sounding like it was over a loud speaker was heard, but you were clearly far enough away that you wouldn’t be able to hear it. You tried to shift closer to the side of the truck, but still it was hard to make out what he was saying. Where in the world did Negan get something that would be able to project his voice that far?

You waited what seemed like forever and heard the sound of explosions. Shooting up from your position, you shifted in the truck. Your hand instinctively covered your stomach and you swallowed down hard. You had no idea who was doing what or what was happening. All you could think about was your future. This would not lead to the best version of your life that you imagined with Negan and your child. For some reason you saw hope and a chance at having a normal life for your family, but now that you heard what sounded like a war going on, you realized that was never going to happen.

Time went by so slow and there was no one that was clearly coming for you. It felt like hours passed before you felt the truck starting to move again. You were scared. Uncomfortable. Hell, you didn’t even know what happened or may even be driving the truck. You prepared yourself for the worst. When the truck stopped again, you waited for quite some time. You heard groups of people moving all around the truck while you were sitting in the corner. You waited…and waited. Your body was shaking. You tried to stop it, but you couldn’t help the tremors that were filling your body.

The snapping of the lock on the back of the truck was heard and you lifted your gaze to look up to see the doors slowly pulling open. You watched as Negan carefully hopped up onto the back of the truck. His hazel eyes were staring down at you as he moved across the truck. Blood was dripping from a split lip and you could see that the bridge of his nose was bloody along with his face.

Negan reached out for your hand and you accepted it. You were upset with him, but he helped you down from the truck and he urged you to follow him up the stairs toward his office. He closed the door behind both of you and when he turned to face you, he stopped. His hazel eyes stared out into yours. There was a sense of disappointment behind them and you could tell the attack didn’t go the way he wanted it to. Negan stepped forward, his right hand reaching out to caress in over the side of your neck to curl his fingers around the back of your neck to pull you in. His forehead rest against yours for a moment and you sighed.

You wanted to erupt on him so very badly, but you didn’t even know what to say. It was clear how Negan felt about things and it didn’t matter what you said, it wouldn’t change things. Leaning back, you saw the blood dripping from his lip and moved for his desk. Reaching for a tissue, you moved across the room and dabbed at Negan’s bottom lip. His eyes were hooked on yours while you took care of him.

“Did you win?” you questioned, your eyes narrowing out at Negan as he licked at his lip when you pulled away. You tossed aside the tissue and leaned back against Negan’s desk. “Was it everything you hoped it would be?”  

“They got away,” Negan answered, reaching up to wipe at his mouth with the back of his hand to see if he was still bleeding. “It didn’t go the way I wanted, but we blew most of their homes away, so it doesn’t really give them much of an advantage.”

“Who did you kill?” you inquired and Negan’s eyebrows tensed together.

“Do you care?” Negan blurt out, his voice deepening as he spoke. It clearly pissed him off that you wanted to know who died and genuinely cared. You didn’t answer and you swallowed down heavily. You didn’t agree with killing everyone and he knew that. “I asked you, do you care?”

“I don’t like killing people Negan,” you retorted and he snorted. A hint of a laugh fell from his lips and he rolled his eyes.

“So you’d rather them kill me, huh?” Negan poked further and you shook your head in disgust. He knew what you meant, but it was obvious that he was in the mood to bicker. “I told you, they got away. I don’t know how, but they did. Rick’s fucking one eyed kid is a genius. He kept me focused on him while everyone clearly got away.”

“And Rick?” you looked Negan over realizing that he wasn’t totally hurt, but it was clear he had gotten in a fight.

“He got away too, but I got a few good hits in,” Negan insisted, moving over to the couch to drop down on top of it. Negan was watching you like a hawk, he knew you were upset with him for locking you in the truck, but clearly wasn’t going to bring attention to it.

“Do you think my opinion holds no value?” you finally spoke up and Negan smirked. His eyes searched yours for a moment longer before he looked down toward the ground. “I’m serious.”

“Your opinion holds value to me, but not the rest of the Saviors,” Negan insisted with a heavy sigh. “I did what I did today to keep our family safe. You should know that.”

“So this is all about your family? Not about you being the leader and needing to prove a point?” you watched Negan closely after you asked him the question. His lips parted and he went to say something, but his face twisted with confusion. “I mean…this was all for us?”

“You know that it is,” Negan grunted, his eyebrow arching up while he stared out at you. “We need a steady place for our child. We need to make sure that we are safe.”

“How does this make us safe Negan? Attacking them put us in a worse position. We’re never going to be safe as long as the fighting continues,” you tried to insist and Negan shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “Your army is falling apart at the core. The people who are the highest up both want you dead. You are fighting a group of people that love and care for each other. They are connected and The Saviors are falling apart.”

“Watch it,” Negan warned from where he was sitting. “You might know something about human nature and how people might react to things, but you have no idea what it is like to be the leader of a group of people that are counting on you. Hundreds of people count on me to keep them safe. I am doing what I have to do to help them and to keep you along with the baby safe.”

“You don’t give a shit about me and the baby,” you muttered under your breath and you could see out of the corner of your eye that Negan’s head cocked to the side when he heard you say that.

“What did you just say?” Negan snapped, standing up from the couch and moving across the room closer to you. The angry expression over his features would often scare you, but you were so used to it at this point, you no longer cared if you pissed him off or not. “I don’t think I heard you right.”

“You heard me,” you replied, your eyes narrowing out at his. “Maybe there is a part of you that loves us, but we’re just an idea of what is perfect to you. You think you have to love us. I was an idea to you. Something you thought that was special. I turned you down originally so I became perfect in your mind, but I can tell that you don’t love us.”

“You’re crazy,” Negan grunted, reaching out to grab your jaw in his fingertips in a demanding grasp and you huffed.

“That’s why when looking death in the face you told Gabriel about Lucille and not us, right? You’re only real wife was Lucille. Funny how that keeps coming up,” you repeated what Gabriel had told you and you watched the color drain from Negan’s face. He swallowed down hard and you shoved his hand away from your face. “Who is the crazy one now?”

“Listen…” Negan spoke up clearly thinking of something to say.

“I don’t want to hear more lies,” you sighed heavily, turning away from him. “You did a good job convincing me that you loved me for a while, but you just wanted a baby. The problem is that you wanted a baby with Lucille. Not me. I’m just the best you could get.”

“Listen, he was deep in getting me to admit my weakness. He kept digging and digging. We were trapped in this fucking hot ass trailer where walkers were seconds from getting in. The first thing I thought about was my wife and not being able to end her,” Negan informed you with his voice cracking. “I love you Y/N. I do. It’s just with Lucille; it was so traumatic for me that it…it never left me. Okay?”

“I believe that part, but I don’t believe you love me,” you muttered and Negan tried to move forward to touch you, but you held your hand up to keep him blocked from getting near you. “I love you…so much.”

“I know you do,” Negan insisted and you shook your head. Your throat was tensing, you were upset and you wanted to cry. You wanted to rupture, but you tried keeping it together. “No one has ever loved me like you have and I have never tried as hard as I have with someone like I have you. I cheated on Lucille, but I’ve never…ever done that with you.”

“And?” you shrugged your shoulders. “It doesn’t mean you love me.”

“I love you as much as I can love anyone,” Negan muttered, trying to make sense of everything. “When I tell you I love you, it feels right.”

“But we’re not a real marriage,” you looked to the wedding ring you were wearing that he had given you. “I don’t even know what to call ourselves.”

“I gave you my mother’s ring Y/N. I gave it to you before I ever found out you were pregnant,” Negan reminded you, stepping forward to grab a hold of your hands. He rubbed his thumbs over the back of them and he tried to get you to look at him. “We’re something different. Marriage isn’t the same now. With Lucille it was what we envisioned marriage to be. People who love each other and jump into getting married. They live in a house, they pay bills, they talk about having children, but they never do.”

“So what am I then? An apocalyptic bride?” you felt your eyes tearing over and Negan half laughed. He leaned in to press his forehead against yours. “I’ll never be Lucille to you.”

“No, you won’t, but you’re something different,” Negan insisted with a nod. “I will always…always love the both of you.”

“Then why was I not a thought when you were going to die?” you tried to reason with yourself and you couldn’t quite wrap your mind around it. “I wasn’t even mentioned. Our baby wasn’t even mentioned.”

“I didn’t think I was going to die,” Negan answered and you rolled your eyes. “I’m serious. I didn’t think I was going to die. Should I have told one of Rick’s people about the woman that I’m married to? About the woman that is pregnant with my child? You saw what Daryl was capable of. He crashed a damn truck into a building and was fucking ready to kill everyone innocent if it meant getting to me. They are just as brutal as I am.”

“I want to believe you Negan, I really do,” you felt his thumbs caressing at your jawline and you looked up at him.

“I understand. The fact I’m still head over heels for my dead wife is confusing,” Negan hushed you and he leaned in to press a quick kiss over your lips. “But I love you. I never realized there was enough room in my heart to love two people, but I do. I don’t know how to handle it sometimes. I know that. And I know it’s hard for you, but she’s part of me. Just like you are.”

“I wish you would trust me then,” you nodded, clearly letting your emotions get the best of you and you felt a single tear sliding down your face. Negan collected it with his thumb and brushed it away before frowning. “I’m scared of losing you Negan. You might be okay with the idea of Lucille waiting for you at the other end, but without you, I have no one.”

“You’re not going to get rid of me that easily,” Negan pulled you in closer for a firm hug and he nestled his nose against the side of your neck. “I think about you and that baby all the time. In fact, before all of this I was writing down names and I was going to have you pick one from a cup of names that I picked.”

Negan motioned you over toward his desk and pulled open the top drawer. Looking inside you saw two cups sitting inside filled with little pieces of paper, “Left is the name of girls and right is for the boys…”

“We’re going to determine our child’s name from picking names out of a glass?” you teased and Negan shrugged his shoulders. Reaching for one of the names from the glass you pulled open the piece of paper to see the female name. “Angel?”

“I thought it would be cute to say daddy’s little Angel,” Negan threw his hands up in the air and you laughed. Negan’s dimples sucked in when you reached for one from the boy’s cup. You pulled out the name to look it over. When Negan saw the name on the piece of paper, he moved in closer to you and placed his hands over your shoulders. “I always liked the name Ethan.”

“Both are good names,” you watched Negan shrug before you reached for another piece of paper and Negan tried to stop you. A laugh fell from your lips when you opened the paper to see the name Ethan again. “Negan?”

“What?” Negan’s face flushed over as you reached for another piece of paper to see that the name was Ethan again. “I may have put it in there a few times. It’s not the only name in there…”

“You just put it in there a lot?” you snorted and Negan pulled the papers from your fingers. “Why wouldn’t you just tell me you wanted to name your boy Ethan?”

“I just kind of wanted you to think you had some kind of say in it,” Negan seemed embarrassed and he looked to the other glass. “The girl names all have Angel in them somehow so I’m kind of tacky I guess.”

“It’s cute Negan, I’ll think about it,” you reached out to wrap your arms around Negan’s neck and he was pouting when you had seen that he tricked the boy’s names. You still wanted to be mad at him, but you just found the cup of names so cute and it swayed you away from the anger you were having toward him. “I just wish I was as special to you as Lucille is. She was a very lucky woman to have you love her as much as you do.”

“It was a little too late on my end,” Negan gulped heavily before tipping in to press a loving kiss over your lips. “I need to go talk with everyone. Make a plan about everything. Figure all of this out so we are still one step ahead.”

“Negan…” you called out when he moved for the door. “There is something I have to tell you about Dwight.”

“Listen, I just…I really have to go,” Negan insisted and you moved across the room to grab his hand. “Y/N they are probably looking for me.”

“I think he’s helping the other side,” you blurt out to the best of your ability and Negan stepped back, looking over his shoulder at you. “I was out on the roof with Eugene. Eugene was attempting to help us get the walkers away and Dwight was trying to foil his plans. He’s working with Rick…”

“After torturing Daryl?” Negan’s eyebrows tensed together. “I don’t think they’d be stupid enough to trust him Y/N. You probably heard something else said.”

“Negan, I know what I heard,” you tried to inform him and it was clear that Negan was skeptic of what you were saying. You tried to get him to listen to you, but he was obviously in total doubt of it all. “I don’t care if you believe me or not Negan, but Dwight and Simon are both after you. You need to be careful.”

“I can handle myself,” Negan tried to insist with a heavy sigh. “Give me a few Y/N. Let me find out everything that has happened and then we’ll figure out what we can do with everything.” 

Negan stopped in the doorway when he was going to leave. He breathed out heavily and let out a frustrated breath. Negan looked over his shoulder at you and it was clear you were visibly upset that he wanted to abruptly end things.

“Come on,” Negan reached out his hand and you stepped forward, giving him a confused look. You wrapped your hand around his and felt him squeezing firmly around your fingers. “We’ll handle things…together.” 

Following Negan, you went with him to catch up with what had happened at The Sanctuary. You didn’t say much, you kept to yourself. You knew that it was hard for Negan to have you around to see that side of him. He often wanted you to believe in the side of him that was good and have you avoid seeing what he did that was bad. But after this, it felt like he wanted you to be included in things. You could see the frustration in Negan’s face when he found out that Doctor Carson fled with Gabriel. You knew the only reason he had the new Carson there was to take care of you and while you were nervous…at the same time, you felt like it would be alright. Negan was definitely more upset about it than you were. The idea of Gabriel leaving was something you were uncomfortable with after knowing how much Gabriel clearly knew about things.

You listened to the things that happened and you found yourself shocked with what Negan had done. There wasn’t much you could say, but you knew that what he had done to Alexandria would cause more problems. Negan seemed to think by doing what he did, it would make things better, but it didn’t. You heard his continued plans to go after Hilltop and for the most part you stayed quiet. The only time you were asked to leave is when Hilltop had sent a large box in and Negan wanted to keep you safe. He made you stay in his office until he was ready to come get you.

You respected Negan allowing you stay in on things, but the fact that you were hearing all the negative things that were taking place, you thought maybe Negan was right in the first place not having you be part of it. How things were being run were definitely not how you would have done it. And the things that Negan planned and how he ran things just made him sound so much crueler than the man you knew. You witnessed him and Simon fighting and knew that this was headed south and fast. Neither Simon nor Dwight had his back and yet, Negan still tried having faith in both of them and that broke you. It really hurt to see one of the strongest, smartest men you knew allowing himself to be taken advantage of when you really knew better.

The sound of knocking on the door was heard and you lifted your head to see Negan slowly walking into the room. Something was wrong, very wrong. The look on his face said it and you moved up from the chair at his desk. Negan was upset. You knew that look very well. It was a rare one, but you knew it. Negan dropped Lucille to the ground when he lifted his gaze from the floor to look out at you.

“Carl is dead,” Negan informed you with a heavy gulp, his jaw flexing and his voice cracking as he spoke. Negan stood before you for a moment and your heart was pounding inside of your chest at his admission. “Rick got a hold of one of our radios and asked to talk to me. Apparently the kid was helping someone and got himself bit…”

“Jesus,” your mind thought back to Rick and knowing now that one of the only things that kept Rick going was gone meant that he wouldn’t hold back any longer. “That’s awful.”

“Apparently he wrote a letter after he got bit…to me,” Negan explained clearly thinking back to what Rick had told him. “Asking us for peace and to stop fighting. He asked it from both Rick and I…”

You stared out at him and didn’t know what to say. Part of you hoped that they agreed to it. That both Rick and Negan would come to terms after such extreme measures occurred, but Negan shook his head. There was a dampness in his eyes as he spoke up again, “Rick has no interest in that. He just wants me killed. Son of bitch was too busy trying to overthrow me that he let his son get killed. Damn it.”

Negan let out an upset sound and turned on his heels away from you. He slouched over and braced his hands on his knees. It was clear that Negan was visibly upset, but you knew how much he liked Carl. It had surprised you in the way that he had talked about Carl in the past, but it was clear how much he clearly cared.

“That kid was such a badass. I was hoping…I had plans for him after all of this was over,” Negan explained standing up and moving across the room closer to you. “I always thought if we had a boy…if we had a boy I could only wish that he would be half as cool as that kid, you know? He was born for this shit. He was supposed to outlive me…outlive us all.”

Negan’s eyes had visible tears in them and you reached out to tug on his leather jacket to bring him in closer to you. Wrapping your arms around him, you held him close. It was clear how truly upset he was over the loss of Rick’s son. Urging him over toward the couch, you sat down and felt Negan lay down on the couch beside you while putting his head in your lap. Your fingertips traced through his hair in a soothing manner while you watched him stare up at the ceiling. There were clearly so many thoughts going through his mind and at the same time you knew there was nothing you could do to help.

“Is this my fault?” Negan spoke up, swallowing down hard when he looked to you with his hazel eyes. “Is this my fault that an innocent kid is dead?”

“You didn’t kill him sweetheart,” you tried to explain and Negan’s face scrunched up in sadness. He turned on his side and you could hear his breathing shaken. “Negan?”

He was distant. It was clear that the news of Carl had hit him harder than you could have ever imagined. Waiting in silence, you stroked the side of his face and traced your fingers through his hair. Your heart ached for Rick and at the same time it made you scared and in fear for your child.

“Negan…our baby,” you began with a frown, his eyes lifted from where they were to look out at you. “Do you think this is a sign that we have to stop? That we have to make something happen? Because this just means to me that people are going to keep dying. People we care about. People we love. Shouldn’t we focus on the here and now? Shouldn’t we try to keep those we love safe with the time that we have instead of this war?”

“This war is what is going to keep my child safe. People will know not to fuck with me and everything will get better,” Negan answered almost emotionless and he shook his head. “I empathize with Rick. I am sorry. His son was an amazing young man and I feel so…sorry for him, but he will not back down. He will not stop. Begging for us to stop fighting is not an option. He told me Carl wanted peace, that’s not on his list of to dos. Rick is coming to kill me and if I don’t do something first, then he is going to kill the father of your child. Is that something you want?”

“No, it’s not Negan, but I love you. I fucking love you and I want us to be a family,” you insisted and Negan’s face twisted. “There has to be other ways.”

“There are no other ways. The plan is already in motion,” Negan answered, sitting up on the couch with you. His hazel eyes seemed frustrated with your response and you tried to reach out to touch him, but he seemed angry with you. “I sent Simon out to deal with some things, but when he is back…we’re going to be going after Hilltop. We will be making sure that they get what’s coming to them and I’m going to make sure that no one has the balls to do to me what Rick has ever done again.”

“Does your ego need to be this big Negan? You have a baby on the way,” you slid your hand in over your stomach and Negan’s jaw clenched while you spoke. “There has already been so much loss. We no longer have a doctor around to help. We are lost; we are in the corner and…”

“I’ll get out of it, I always do,” Negan informed you with a firm nod.

“What about me? What about us?” you pointed out and Negan’s eyes shifted. “You will get out of it, but what about your family?”

“When everything goes my way and it turns out being the way I know it will…” Negan started, getting up from the couch to glare down at you. “Then you will realize that I was right. You will realize what a mistake you were making in not having faith in what I was doing.”

“I lost faith in what you were doing a long time ago Negan, I just kind of went with it,” you informed him with a half laugh. “This…this is just a dick measuring contest now between you and Rick. You two don’t care who you take down with you. Just as long as you win. It’s both of you. Not just one. You both are trying to prove who is the alpha and you don’t care what happens.”

“You have that little faith in me, huh?” Negan snarled and you could feel your chest aching at the thought. You shrugged your shoulders and saw Negan glare down at you. It was clear you were upsetting him and that wasn’t really what you were originally going for, but you couldn’t help it. “Fuck it…”

“Can’t you just see that I love you and that’s why I’m doing this? That is why I am saying this,” you called out to him when he went to storm out of the room. “I love you and I only see this ending badly. I love you and I don’t want to lose you.”

“Don’t you see what I’m doing is because I love you?” Negan snapped back and his voice rose. His eyebrows were tensed together and you shook your head. “It may not be the choices you would make, but I’m trying to keep my people safe…I’m trying…”

“You just want to win Negan,” you shook your head and Negan let out a disgusted noise. “It doesn’t matter who you take down with you as long as you win and I can’t pretend like I support that anymore. I don’t. I don’t support this. I don’t support what you are doing. I don’t want you dead.”

“Well you don’t have a fucking choice,” Negan snapped, slamming the door closed when he grabbed his things and left you there. You had been alone to yourself most of the day and when you were roaming you heard about Negan’s plans to attack Hilltop. You tried not to worry or involve yourself. At night when Negan was meant to come to bed, he never did. It was something you weren’t used to with Negan. He always managed to find his way back to you, but he was clearly too angry with you.

When you had woken up in the morning you had found out that Negan had already left for Hilltop. He had gone without saying goodbye. He had gone without kissing you, without telling you he would be back. He was clearly still that angry with you that he didn’t bother to say goodbye to you or your baby. That was one of the things that Negan always did before going off to some kind of war. Yet, here you were…alone at The Sanctuary without Negan. You’re heart broke knowing that he had left you because you said you could no longer support his war against Rick. You were always taught to say goodbye to someone you loved because you never knew what would happen, but Negan made it clear in the last day what everything meant to him.

The amount at which your heart ached knowing he had left without saying goodbye broke you. You should have kept your mouth shut. You should have just kept doing what you were doing and been done with it.

You waited…and waited. It wasn’t until night when someone finally came back and when The Saviors started pouring back in, you realized Negan wasn’t showing up. You stood at the loading dock waiting for him. Negan was always one of the first people out when they got back, but when you saw Simon moving toward The Sanctuary as the last person, you saw his dark eyes meet yours and you panicked.

“Where is Negan?” you questioned feeling a rush of panic fill your body when Simon’s jaw twitched in what seemingly was anger. “Where is Negan?”

“Negan is dead,” Simon answered simply, throwing his hands up in the air and you felt your heart sink at the news. “We were on our way to Hilltop and Rick found him. Hit Negan’s car with his and when we finally got to him, Negan’s car was flipped over and the inside of it was a bloody mess. I’m sorry, but Negan…”

“You’re lying,” you looked over your shoulder to see Dwight standing at the door and Simon pointed to Dwight for confirmation. “He’s lying, Negan wouldn’t…”

“It’s true,” Dwight muttered, his eyes meeting yours and you felt your stomach twist over what Simon and Dwight were saying. “No one could have survived that Y/N. I’m sorry…”

Falling back onto the steps your hand slid in over your stomach and you heard Simon grunt before moving around you and into The Sanctuary. You thought about the last time you saw Negan. The fight you had was not something you had planned, but the fact he had gotten so mad at you that he hadn’t even said goodbye to you or came to you that night broke your heart.

“I…am so sorry,” Dwight moved in beside you on the seat and you looked over to see Dwight trying to clearly think of what to say. “Rick just came out of nowhere and…”

“Don’t pretend like you care,” you shot back and Dwight swallowed down heavily. There was a nervousness in his expression when you clenched your fists at your sides. You were trying to hold back tears, but it was clear that it wasn’t working well when you felt your eyes burning. You knew the truth. You heard what he said to Eugene and you had told Negan, but nothing had come of it. Maybe if you would have tried harder, Negan would still be here. “This is your fault. You wanted him dead. You didn’t want him here. So don’t you dare come and apologize to me about Negan.”

“Your life will be better,” Dwight tried to insist and you laughed inwardly. You looked away from him and it was clear that Dwight was not leaving. “I know it seemed like you loved him and in a weird way, I’m sure he cared about you too, but being with Negan would only bring you a lifetime of agony and pain.”

“And what about my child?” you looked to Dwight and you felt your tears sliding down the side of your face at this point. “What am I going to do about that now, huh? You think I’m better off without the father of my child being here? Negan protected us and kept us safe.”

“Your baby is going to be taken care of,” Dwight reasoned with you, but you didn’t want to hear it. “I know you don’t like me and I may have been the cause of things that happened, but I won’t let anything bad happen to you. I would never…”

“What are you going to do for me Dwight? Huh?” you snapped and you found yourself wanting to go out to look for Negan. You didn’t want to believe them. Negan always came back. Negan was always the guy that scared the hell out of you and made you think he was dead, but he always came back. You didn’t want to believe he was gone. “You think you can keep someone you don’t even care for safe when the people you are working with don’t even like you? You think they are going to work with you as soon as they realize Negan is dead? You’re a goner soon too Dwight, you just don’t know it yet.”

“How do you…?” Dwight bit down on his bottom lip and you rolled your eyes when he realized you knew about his alliance with Rick. “Listen, I mean what I say. I’m not going to let you get hurt. I know you are sad and I don’t blame you for that, but this…this is a good thing.”

“You left a psycho in charge,” you nodded back toward the building, referring to Simon. “You think that leaving Simon in charge is going to be better than Negan? At least with Negan you could somewhat reason with. Simon is a cold blooded killer that will try to kill everyone. Which is what I’m assuming happened at Hilltop and that’s why you guys are back here because you got your asses handed to you.”

“It didn’t go well,” Dwight agreed and you shook your head in response. You stood from the stairs carefully and grasped at your abdomen. Both doctors told you the stress was not good for the baby, but all your life had been lately was stress. It went with the territory. “I know Simon is off the hinges, but with Negan gone people are going to make this right.”

“It’s never going to be right. You may have killed Negan, but there will always be someone. Simon or another crazy person who wants to take control will replace Negan. You aren’t going to get rid of the bad people in the world,” you reminded Dwight who frowned and rubbed his hands over the sides of his face. “Negan was awful in your opinion, but there will be someone who is worse. There always is.”

“Why don’t you come inside? We will talk. Simon is likely pissed off trying to plan something else and you should be inside. Make sure to keep yourself and the baby safe,” Dwight stood up from the stairs and nodded toward the door. “Come on Y/N. Let’s get some soup or something for you and…”

“I’m going to wait right here,” you insisted, looking out at the entrance of the The Sanctuary. “Negan will come back. I know he will and I’m going to be the one person waiting for him when he is.”

“He’s not coming back dear, I’m trying to help you,” Dwight moved down the stairs to try and convince you while reaching out for you, but you pulled away from him. “Negan is not coming back. I understand that you have faith in him. I know that you always have, no matter what it came to, but I’m telling you he’s not coming back. The sooner you come to terms with that, the better it will be for you. There is no way that someone could have survived what happened to Negan. He’s gone Y/N and you have to deal with that.”

It amused you that they just told you that it happened and yet they expected you to be over it in minutes. It was almost like he expected you to come with him after saying that, but you rolled your eyes and moved to the opened dock area to wait. Dwight let out a frustrated sound and left you there. You waited…and waited. You wanted to believe that everything was okay and that Negan would return, but he wasn’t. You had to have been out there hours waiting and nothing. Negan would usually be back by now. The fact that what Simon and Dwight said might be right crushed you. You wanted them to be wrong so badly. By the time the sun came up, you decided to give up. You had hope, so much hope, but by now you could tell that you were wrong in believing he would come back. He was gone.

Moving back into The Sanctuary, you moved across the hallway toward the area Negan often had meetings. You looked inside to see Simon at the table alone and you stepped forward into the room. When you stepped inside, the sound made Simon look up at you with a smile. It was crooked and he stood slowly from the table, his dark eyes staring into yours.

“Did you finally realize how stupid you were in thinking he was coming back?” Simon poked further at you as he stepped before you. His breathing was warm in your face and you shuddered at the sensation of him towering over you. “Negan’s not coming back honey…”

You said nothing. You couldn’t fight him on this one. You couldn’t say that he was wrong because for once you truly believed that he was right, but you weren’t going to be scared of Simon. This was just as much his fault as it was Dwight’s. He was trying to fight Negan all along and if he would have just been on Negan’s side the whole time you all would have been better off.

“I know this is somewhat your fault,” you snarled and he chuckled in your face. You wanted to hit him, but you kept your cool while standing before him. “I’m going to make sure that you don’t get away with this Simon.”

“You know, with Negan gone now…” Simon’s words came out in a whisper, his fingertips sliding down over the side of your arm. It caused a horrible chill to roll down your spine as you tried to pull away from him, but he grabbed a tight hold of you. “It leaves the door open for the two of us to be together…finally. You no longer have to worry about upsetting Negan…about belonging to Negan. You can be mine.”

“I’ll never be yours,” you retorted with a disgusted sound and Simon pushed you firmly against the side of the table. He slid his palms in over your hips and pushed himself forward toward you. “Simon, don’t…”

“What are you going to do about it if I do?” Simon snarled, his hands gripping tightly at your bottom when he reached around you to squeeze over your bottom. You tried pushing your hands into the center of his chest to get him away from you, but his hands reached up to snatch at your wrists. “You need to stop fighting me little girl. You’re going to be mine. I’m the one in charge now and with Negan gone, you’re mine. Everything that was his, they belong to me.”

“Over my dead body,” you snapped and Simon reached up to snatch at your jaw. He pushed you down on top of the table, your back hitting it hard as he leaned in over you making you feel trapped.

“We can get to work on that if you want,” Simon hissed out and he moved in over you, the strength of his body was holding you down. A sense of panic filtered through your veins and you knew this was going to be bad. “First I’m going to destroy that fucking pussy of yours…”

“Get off,” you demanded feeling Simon’s lips at the side of your neck and you let out a repulsed sound, trying to get him to release you. His mouth was over your flesh and it made you feel dirty. You writhed and did your best to try and slip out from underneath him.

“No, you are going to sit the fuck back and enjoy this…” Simon ordered, his palm wrapping tighter around your jaw to get you to sit still. The sensation of his mustache scratching at your skin made you wince. With everything you could, you tried to fight him back, but his large frame was keeping you locked down. “Negan never treated you right. Let me treat you the way you are supposed to be treated. I’ll fuck you right. Make you my queen, the way you should be. Not pretend your aren’t someone special I care about.”

“I don’t want you Simon, stop…” you pled, but he ignored your words and you felt him reaching down for your hips, but you continued to fight with him. Simon let out a frustrated sound before pulling you to the edge of the table to forcefully flip you over. “Stop!”

“If you don’t want to do this the right way first, then I will take you the way I want and you’ll learn to get used to this,” Simon reached for the back of your pants and you tried to pull away from him. The cool table pressed against your face hurt, but you were trying with all your might to get away from him. “I’ll force you to get used to it.”

“Stop…” you cried out again, but his hands were tugging at the material of your pants. You felt the cool air surrounding your body when he managed to get the material of your pants and underwear down you body. You called out hoping someone would be near to try help you. The sound of Simon pulling apart his belt was heard and you desperately tried to reach for something to help yourself when Simon pulled your hips back closer to him. “Please…stop.”

“No. There was a time you would have actually liked this, but Negan poisoned your mind thinking you could only be with him. If we would have done this much sooner, things would have just been fine,” Simon hissed out from behind you and you heard him pulling down the zipper of his pants. Mustering up all the strength you had in your body, you pushed off the table and brought your head back as hard as you could. Simon’s wince filled the air when your head connected with his jaw and you heard him hit the ground hard. You quickly pulled your pants back together and up over your body. Making a greater distance between the two of you, you looked to the door to see Dwight entering the room in a hurry and you heard Simon laughing. “Nothing is going on here Dwighty boy, we’re fine…”

“I don’t think you are,” Dwight looked to you in your disheveled state and he stepped before you as Simon fixed his pants back together. Simon slowly stood and began to move toward you, but Dwight urged you back toward the hallway again. “We’re going to separate the two of you and I have to talk to you about something in a few, but just…stay away from her.”

Simon stepped forward, but Dwight was quick to pull you out of the room. Dwight followed you back toward your room and you stopped before entering, “You thought that anyone would be better than Negan? Well I just almost ended up raped right then and you would have been too late if I hadn’t had saved myself…”

“I understand that. I didn’t think he would pull something like that. I am sorry,” Dwight tried to explain and you moved into your room. “Listen, I just…”

“Let me know what you figure out what to do with him Dwight because until then…I’m going to be staying in here,” you informed him, shutting the door behind you. You shifted and paced in your room after everything that happened. Your blood was pulsing through your veins and the idea that Simon had gotten so close to raping you. Dropping down to the couch, you began to sob about everything. The fact that Negan was gone, the fact that you were alone and now seemingly alone with Simon scared the hell out of you. This was no longer a safe place for you like Negan had wanted it to be.

Getting up from the couch, you moved across to the kitchen area in your room and pulled open the drawers. Reaching for the large kitchen knife inside, you took it with you to the side of your bed to set it on the nightstand. Sitting down in the center of the bed, you pulled your legs up closer to you and stared at the door. Whatever was coming for you…you’d be ready for it. It had been a hard night for you. You couldn’t sleep most of the night because you were expecting Simon to come back and get you. The idea of him trying to rape you terrified you and it took way late into the night before you finally got comfortable enough to sleep. Maybe Dwight had gotten something into Simon’s head to keep him away from you. Either way you were scared and woke up plenty of times throughout the night.

A few hours in you had heard the sound of your bed squeaking which awakened you. The weight shifted on your mattress and you felt your body locking up. The warmth of someone was over you and you felt your heart start to pound inside of your chest. This had to be Simon returning to get from you what he had wanted earlier. You were shaking and when you felt the sensation of fingertips over your stomach, you quickly brought your fist out and hit at the person over you. The sound of a groan filled the air and you shifted quickly to flick on the light. Reaching for the knife, you heard the swearing and looked over your should to see Negan holding his face.

“Damn baby, what the fuck was that for?” Negan’s deep voice filled your ears and he lifted his eyes to meet yours. When his hazel eyes stared into yours, you dropped the knife and shot up in the bed to wrap your arms around him.

“Am I dreaming?” you cried feeling his arms embracing you like he was never going to let go. He squeezed you tightly and you fell in closer to his chest. “They told me you were dead. They said you were gone…and I just…”

“They still think I am,” Negan explained with a heavy breath. His lips pressed soft kisses over the side of your neck and you clung tightly to him. Negan tried to hush you as you continued crying and he hummed against the side of your neck. You couldn’t help yourself with how you felt. He was everything to you and you were convinced he was gone. “I told you baby, you weren’t going to lose me. Not that easily.”

“I thought you were gone forever,” you pulled away and Negan’s hands cupped your face in his. He wiped at your tears and you saw his eyes misting over. “You were so pissed at me that you didn’t sleep with me that night and you left without saying goodbye. I thought the last thing we would have with each other was our fight and…”

“Shhh….” Negan tried to calm you down, moving in to kiss you over and over again. You could tell that he had gotten hurt pretty good while he was out there. “I’m sorry; I was so fucking wrong for that. I should have said goodbye. I am so sorry…”

Negan reached down to caress over your slightly swelled abdomen before crawling down your body to cuddle his head up against it. You caressed your fingers through his hair and heard him talking to your abdomen. He was whispering promises of always being there for your baby and never leaving you.

“Negan…” you silenced him and he looked up at you with his big hazel eyes, “This time you almost didn’t come back Negan. I can’t make it here without you.”

“You can. You would take care of our baby and yourself if the time came for it, but I’m not leaving you,” Negan hushed you and he moved up to rest his forehead against yours. This Negan was much more intimate and loving than the last one you had been around. Almost like he had realized what he almost lost and cherished it so much more now. “I love you so much. You know that, right?”

“I love you too,” you brushed your fingers through his hair and heard him breathing heavily. You wanted to stay positive, but you needed him to know what happened. “I almost attacked you because I thought you were Simon. He tried…he almost raped me earlier. Claimed that everything that was yours was his now…”

“Simon did what?” Negan pulled back and away from you, his eyes searching yours for a long moment. He was angry and you could tell that it stuck with him. “Did he…did he manage…?”

“I was able to stop him, but if I wouldn’t have…it would have happened,” you answered and Negan’s entire body locked up. “Negan, both Simon and Dwight…”

“Sh...right now, let’s focus on us. You and I,” Negan urged you to look at him as he moved in over you and leaned you back against the bed. “I know what you are trying to tell me, but I’m going to deal with all of that tomorrow. I promise Simon won’t know what hit him, but right now I want to relax with you and our baby…”

“I’m alright with that,” you hummed feeling him wrapping his arm around you when he laid down beside you. His head cuddled up to your neck and you found yourself scared that you were dreaming. You were so sure that Negan was dead and now that he was here holding onto you made you terrified that it was all going to end soon.

“I want to have three kids,” Negan randomly whispered against your flesh making you laugh and he lifted his head up to look you over. “You don’t like the idea of that?”

“We’ve had a hard enough time as it is with this pregnancy, I don’t know if I could do another,” you informed him and he rest his forehead against yours again. “I think it’s going to be a trip just getting to the end of this one Negan. When the baby is out, I’m going to be relieved.”

“I can’t wait to hold them in my arms,” Negan stated with a happy sound and you smiled brightly. “I can’t wait to read to them and tell them stories.”

“I love you so much,” you muttered, knowing that you had said it a thousand times, but you needed him to know it. You thought you had lost him and now with him here, you just wanted to make sure that you got every little bit in. The fear of losing him was there and you needed to make sure that the two of you were never like that again.

The both of you laid together all night and Negan had fallen asleep not long after he had laid down with you. You had talked about your child and the names that he had liked. It was clear that there were some names he really loved and was insistent upon. The name Angel wasn’t really something you thought you would want to name your daughter if you had one, but you agreed that you would think of something similar if the time came and you had a daughter. It was nice to talk about something that wasn’t stressful for once. Negan seemed excited about the future with your baby and his excitement was something that you were happy with. It was rare to see him excited and to see him smile about something that had to do with your life with him.

When the morning came, Negan was back to being Negan. He had to be the boss in charge, but when he got up he made sure to kiss you over and over again. He’d said goodbye in the morning when he got up to go get things done and then came back to only kiss you again. Whatever had happened to Negan during the time he was gone had changed the way he was acting toward you. He didn’t talk much about what happened other than Rick tried to kill him and put emphasis on tried. Other than that he just kind of let the idea linger for you to fill in the pieces.

Negan had kept you updated on the things he was planning on doing today. You were scared about him going head to head with Simon. The fear that Simon would win was there. When Negan took out the Saviors that had aligned themselves with Simon there was a sense of relief, but the fight that Negan had come to tell you about terrified you. He promised you that he knew he could take on Simon and win, but Simon was bigger. Simon was angrier. You wanted to be at the fight to see it, but Negan had asked you not to be there in case it went wrong. You told him you would agree to it, but before the fight you had snuck down in the back.

Your body was shaking as you watched Simon going off about Negan before the fight. Negan was strangely calm and collected. It wasn’t something you had expected from Negan. Not after all he had been through. When the fight started with Simon’s cheap shot you felt your heart pounding inside of your chest. You tried to stay still as you watched Negan getting hit over and over again. You wanted to step forward, but you knew that everyone was frozen in the main room. They were watching the fight and if you interrupted it, you knew that it would only cause trouble. You wanted to say something, but knew it was impossible.

The grunts and the groans from Negan and Simon were heard and you wished this was all a dream that you would wake up from. There was a time where Simon was actually your friend and it seemed like everything was headed in the right direction, but now you knew that was wrong. You knew that was nothing but a false fantasy, a façade.

When Negan knocked Simon to the floor and you heard the things he was saying to Simon about having to kill everyone, you felt your body go limp. Had Simon’s decisions really altered Negan’s morals that much that he was deciding to kill everyone instead of making the point he had wanted to all along? That wasn’t Negan. Killing everyone wasn’t his motto. When you heard the crunching of Simon’s neck, you flinched and looked away. You were happy that Negan had won after all you had gone through with Simon. It was finally over, but you didn’t find yourself happy and you didn’t know why.

When Negan stood up and made a smart remark, you watched him make eye contact with you and his eyes widened. He moved across the room and when the Saviors parted for him to get through, he reached for your hand and pulled you with him back up the stairs toward his office. No one was saying anything. They were silent. Unlikely sure of what to do after the fight with Simon was over. Negan closed the door and began to pace as you stood there before him.

“It was the right thing to do,” Negan insisted, looking to you with a heavy inhale. His face was still red and the bruising done from the fight was beginning to show on his face. “After all he had done, it doesn’t matter if he was my best friend before all of this…”

“Negan,” you tried to step forward and Negan let out an angry sound, reaching out to hit the chair that was beside him. It hit the ground in a thud and you jumped back. You didn’t know what to say. He was upset and it was clear.

“Why did he do this?” Negan snapped looking to you as he continued to pace. He reached up to tug through his hair in a tense manner before dropping to his knees. He hunched over and you heard him let out a scream while his body shook. Moving over to him, you instinctively dropped down and wrapped your arms around him as you heard him start to cry. “After all we’d been through, he was my fucking friend and I just…fucking killed him. This isn’t what I wanted. This isn’t what was supposed to happen.”

“Negan,” you tried to comfort him, finding yourself shocked with the outburst of him having to kill Simon. You pulled his head in close to your chest as he got lost in himself with emotions of having to kill his former friend. The man that he had trusted the most with things had slowly become his enemy. You understood it and you found yourself at a loss on how to help him.

“It’s what he deserved right? After killing all those innocent men and children, this is what he deserves,” Negan tried to convince himself as he wiped at his face and shook his head. “He got Saviors killed; he tried to hurt you and tried to kill me…”

“It would have been you dead if you hadn’t,” you assured him and he nodded, before his head fell back against your chest again and you felt him shaking in your arms.

“I have to get things done, I have to…” Negan tried to get up, but you pulled him back to you and held him tightly to your body. “I have to be the leader. I have to make things right…”

“Take care of yourself for a minute. You need some space and some time to cool down sweetheart,” you tried to assure him and he looked out at you with his hazel eyes. He nodded and leaned further into your arms while you kissed at the top of his head. He stretched his long legs out and let you comfort him. It wasn’t something that either of you were used to, but it was something both of you needed. It was often the opposite positioning between the two of you and it was nice to be different for a change.

“Why am I so sad? I won, I should be happy. After all he’s done,” Negan tried to reason with himself, unsure of what to say and what to do. “I should be happy.”

“He was your friend Negan. It’s the thought of what could have been that eats away at you,” you explained, tracing your fingers throughout his hair as he looked up at you from where he was resting in your arms on the floor. “You think about what you could have been and that’s what breaks your heart the most.”

“Nothing is turning out to be the way I thought it would be,” Negan sighed heavily, his eyes drifting off and it was clear he was caught inside of his own head. “I wish I could have been the man you deserved. The one that took you away and could keep you safe. The one that could give you the perfect family and the perfect husband. I’ve fucked up your life just as much as I’ve fucked up mine. You would have been so much better off without me.”

“I don’t want to picture a life without you,” you explained knowing that while he was right, the idea of a life without Negan now haunted you. You loved him, no matter the pain that he caused. “I want to be with you for the rest of my life.”

“I have hurt you, I will continue to hurt you,” he began and you hushed him, tipping down to press a quick, loving kiss against his rough lips. “I love you…you have to know that. I know I have said things and done things, but after all of this…no matter what happens, I see you. I think of you and I want to be with you.”

“You know I love you Negan, that’s not even a thought you have to question,” you caressed over the side of his rough face.

There was a silence between the two of you as he caressed his hand over yours. You held him for a little while longer until he urged you to come with him. You stood back when he dealt with Dwight. You felt no remorse for Dwight. Not after everything that had happened. You wondered if things had really gotten so bad inside of yourself that you didn’t care what happened to him after everything he had done to Negan. You knew that Negan was keeping him alive and you agreed with that decision, but other than that outcome you could care less.

When you were outside with Negan overseeing some of the crops that people were working on, you had caught the tail end of Negan on the radio with Michonne. You heard the things he had said, but you had also seen the look on his face. He was saying one thing and his expressions were saying another. Was he trying to convince Michonne that he was a cold hearted monster or himself? Why he decided that it had to be him that was the awful person really drove you wild. You wanted to question his decisions you wanted to say something, but you knew otherwise. Not after everything that had happened.

When Negan had told you about his plans of surrounding Rick’s people and how he was going to end things, you didn’t agree with it. In fact when you had laid with Negan the night before he had prepared to leave, you found yourself awake at night thinking about it. It was something that was a big decision. Wanting to kill everyone, that wasn’t Negan and the choice he was making sounded very much like someone else. What had changed to make him feel this way? Why did he think it had to be done?

Sitting up in bed, you looked over at Negan who was lying beside you, fully clothed in everything, but his leather jacket. His eyes turned to look at you and you could tell that he hadn’t been able to sleep either.

“Run away with me. None of this has to happen,” you begged and Negan’s Adam’s apple bounced in his throat. “Run away with me. Let’s find something. It’s a scary thought of not knowing what is going to happen for us, but I have a horrible feeling Negan. If we want to go through with this, it’s going to end badly.”

“I will win Y/N,” Negan reminded you of his confidence and you shook your head. “I know I will.”

“You don’t though. You are trying to convince yourself that this is who you are. That you are supposed to be this monster that kills everyone, but it’s not you. This isn’t you. Your plans go through when you think like you. There are minor problems, but this…this is against everything you are. People are a resource,” you reminded him of his own saying and Negan’s throat tensed while he watched you emotionless from the bed. “We’ll find a home somewhere. Maybe we can start our own farm. We’ll have the baby and we can be together. It’s scary, but I know we can do it. We can live peacefully, Carl was right. We can fix this. We can become something different. There can be peace in this world.”

“There will never be peace,” Negan shook his head and you felt your heart breaking while you pled for something more. “They want me dead. If I ran away…if we ran away…they’d find me. They wouldn’t care if I gave up this life. At least here we have a fighting chance.”

“Negan…I want to wake up with you every morning. I want you to be able to hold your child, I want us to have that family I know we are capable of having. Please don’t give up on that,” you whimpered and felt tears swelling at your eyes. “This…this isn’t what you wanted.”

“It’s not, but I have to finish what I started,” Negan nodded, shrugging his shoulders. “This has to end and there is only one way this ends.”

“Please Negan, I’m begging you,” you frowned and tried to reach out for his hand. He let you hold onto it, but his expression didn’t change. “Please don’t do this today. Don’t go out there, it will not go the way you think it will.”

“Nothing you will say is changing what’s happening today,” Negan answered and it was clear that his mind was made up. You got up from the bed and paced in his room while he watched you from where he was laying on the bed. “I’m sorry you are upset, but…”

“You know this is wrong. If you thought this was right, you would be sleeping through the night,” you explained, feeling an ache in your abdomen, but you reached down to place your hand over your swollen stomach. “I’ve seen you kill people and you slept straight through the night. You didn’t care because that’s what you thought you had to do. Now, you don’t think it is. What happens if you do win? Are you ever going to be able to sleep knowing what you’ve done? What if you lose? What if you leave us all alone?”

Negan said nothing, his eyebrows tensing together and the blank stare he was giving you made your heart break. After all you had been through you thought that maybe you would have been able to convince him from doing this.

You had left him alone and left his room. He was in there a while before getting troops together. Negan hadn’t said much to you when you were getting prepared to leave. He had wanted you to come with. To keep you safe, but ordered you stay in one of the vehicles when everything was happening. Negan had kissed you once before you had left, but nothing was said. You didn’t even want to acknowledge that today was real. That today was happening, but it was.

When Negan was out on that hill with the Saviors having everyone surrounded, you watched from the car. Everything seemed to be going right until the popping sounds filled the air and you watched Saviors start to drop like flies. Your heart pounded in your chest when you watched Negan take off and you quickly moved from the car. You were right in having the reaction and fear that you did. Something was wrong and it was very wrong.

Going to move up the hill you felt someone grabbing a tight hold of your arm and looked over to see that it was Daryl behind you. His angry blue eyes were staring into yours while you watched Negan and Rick talking things out. When you watched Negan lower the bat and seemingly listen to Rick, you hoped that this was over. That Negan was going to agree to peace, but when you watched Rick’s hand swing out and the jolting of Negan’s body when Rick had used a broken piece of glass to cut Negan’s throat you tried to get away from Daryl’s grasp. You screamed out watching Negan fall to his knees and grasp at his neck. When the blood started seeping through his fingers you felt like the whole world was spinning around you. You wanted to vomit. You wanted to scream and cry, but Daryl was holding you so tight that there was no where you could go. This all felt like a horrible nightmare. You had gotten Negan back to only lose him again so quickly.  

When you heard Rick order to save Negan, you didn’t know what much saving could be done. He was bleeding out in the middle of the grassed area and when you heard Maggie screaming for him to be killed you desperately tried to get away from Daryl. Rick looked to you when he passed you being held back by Daryl.

“Let me go,” you pled with Daryl who kept his arms firmly around your body. You fought with him to the best of your ability before finally being able to pull from his arms. You ran to Negan and slid down beside him on the grass. The new doctor was beside him ordering others to do certain things, but all you could focus on was Negan. The color was draining from his face, the blood soaking the grass beside him. Negan’s hand lifted, his fingers shakily reaching out for you and you grabbed them. Negan’s blood was soaking your fingertips and you heard him gurgling.

“I’m sorry,” Negan’s eyes met yours and you watched Negan’s eyes close. You tried to grasp onto him, but people were picking him up and carrying him away after whatever Alexandria’s doctor had done. Once again you felt an arm wrapping around you to pull you up from the ground. Your hands were stained in Negan’s blood and when you looked back to see who was behind you, you saw Rick’s blue eyes staring into yours.

“You’re coming with us,” he informed you, waving for someone to take you with them. Rick gave you one final glance before walking away and leaving you alone to the strangers that surrounded you and led you to one of the cars. Whatever Rick had planned, he had set it in motion after attacking Negan.

---

Looking down to your hands, you shifted shakily on the bed that used to be yours when you lived at Alexandria. When you had returned they had taken you to where you had previously lived. So much had burned down, but there were still homes that were up and put together. You were surprised that your old home was one of them.

They had locked you into your old room and left you the way you were. Your hands were still bloody, your face soaked with the tears of which you cried thinking of Negan and his lifeless body that they had carried away.

It had been so long since they had left you in here. You were alone to your thoughts. To the memory of the last thing you saw with Negan and you felt your body shaking. Your life was a mystery and now with the possibility of Negan gone, you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

The sound of the doorknob turning was heard and you looked up to see Rick moving into the room. Behind him was Daryl who moved toward the corner of the room and Rick stepped before you. He dropped down to his knees and reached out for your hands, looking them over.

“We need to get you cleaned up, someone should have been in here already,” Rick’s southern drawl filled the air and you looked away from him. You were uncomfortable with the man who has slit Negan’s throat and likely had taken away the man you loved. “You shouldn’t have the blood as a constant reminder.”

“Leave it on her for a little while longer, I think it will do her some good,” Daryl snarled from where he was at the corner of the room. Rick looked over his shoulder and glanced back at Daryl, but you expected these comments. Daryl had no problem with trying to kill you before; it was only a matter of time before you assumed he would do it again.

“Is he dead?” you stammered and Rick’s jaw clenched. He twitched and shifted with an uncomfortable motion. It was all that had been swirling in your mind. Was the man you loved dead? You just needed to know. You had to know. “Is he dead?”

“No, he’s alive…for now,” Rick answered, his head nodding as he kneeled before you. “We need to ask you something…”

There was a silence that filled the room as you looked up to Daryl who was clearly pissed to be there in the first place. You were uncomfortable. Why they had brought you there was beyond you and you just wished they would tell you what their plans with you were.

“How many walkers have you killed?” Rick repeated the question they had asked you when you first arrived in Alexandra. You felt safer then answering these questions after Daryl had saved your life and brought you there.

“Why are you asking me this? You don’t want me here,” you insisted with a shake of your head and Rick, lowered down on his knees. His hands reached out for yours and you felt uncomfortable with him holding onto your hands in a comforting way. After what he had done to the man you loved, you didn’t want to trust this man or feel comforted by him in any way. “Why are you even…”

“Answer the question,” Rick insisted, his blue eyes looking up at you with a seriousness behind them.

“Too many to count,” you replied thinking back to all of the walkers you had taken out over time. “You know that. The count has gotten higher since the last time…”

“How many people have you killed?” Rick asked the question. The question you knew that would hit you right where it would hurt. You never wanted to kill people. It was something you and Negan had disagreed heavily on and something that had hurt your relationship with Negan in the past. Your heart ached at the question and you felt tears swelling in your eyes again. “How many?”

“Two,” you answered honestly, refusing to look Rick in the eyes while his hands squeezed around yours. “Two people.”

“Why?” Daryl snapped from where he was and he stepped forward. It was like the empathy that Rick was showing you was pissing Daryl off and you felt your body flinching when Daryl moved closer to you. You shook and felt your heart breaking at the question. “Answer why!”

“To save Negan,” you truthfully responded and pulled your hands away from Rick. You reached up to cover your face knowing that you had done it to save the man you loved and if given the chance, you would likely do it again. This in your mind made you a bad person. At least to these people it likely did.

“And that right there is why this is all such a fucking stupid idea,” Daryl spoke in a louder tone while you felt Rick reaching out to grasp at your shoulder to try and comfort you. Why this man was attempting to comfort you when you were married and in love with his enemy was flabbergasting you. “The stupid bitch killed people for him. She belongs with the Saviors. Not here. She will only try to get to him and make things worse. She will pick him over the community.”

“I know she’s a good person,” Rick insisted and you lifted your head to look at him. “Who isn’t willing to risk their life and do things for the people they love? No matter who it is they love? It’s when someone does it in cold blood that we…”

“Oh bullshit,” Daryl threw his hands up and stormed out of the room. Rick slowly stood from the ground and stood before you. It was clear that they were disagreeing heavily on what to do with you, but Rick seemed to keep his composure on everything.

“We’re going to let you stay here. You’re pregnant, we have a doctor here. Well, he’s close to a doctor, his name is Siddiq. He’ll take good care of you and the baby,” Rick nodded to your stomach and he swallowed down hard. “We’re not going to let anything bad happen to you. For a while, we’re going to have someone watching over you. Make sure that you…”

“Aren’t planning to set fire to the place?” you confirmed and Rick tilted his head to the side. “I understand.”

 “It’s probably for the best if you stay to yourself as well for a while,” Rick explained. “The people here aren’t as understanding of Negan’s people. It will take some time.”

“Why are you doing this?” you found yourself confused as Rick motioned you to stand up. You slowly followed him to the bathroom where he urged you to wash your hands. He had gotten some clothes together for you and requested you take a shower to try and clean yourself from Negan’s blood. “Rick?”

“I remember you,” Rick answered watching you closely. “Carl liked you. Carl talked about you after coming back from The Sanctuary. Mentioned you being in love with Negan, but being the same girl. He had faith in you…therefore I do too.”

You closed your eyes thinking about Rick’s son and the last time you had seen him, “Carl believed in something more. He believed in forgiveness and starting over…I think this is what Carl would want. With everything that you are going through, this is what my son would ask me to do.”

Rick promised that he would stand outside in the hallway to block you in the shower while you cleaned up to keep you safe. When in the shower you found yourself crying while you watched the swirling of Negan’s blood at your feet. The image of him getting his throat cut played over and over again in your head. You wished that you could have saved him. That you could have convinced him to run away with you, but you didn’t. Was this your fault?

When you finished with the shower, you moved out and Rick reached for your bloody clothes and nodded back toward the bedroom, “Can I see him?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Rick smirked and shook his head. “He’s not woken up, I’m not sure that’s the kind of state you want to see him in. Plus, you seeing him…”

“Please,” you begged and Rick shook his head. Your eyes were full of tears and he could tell that you had cried to yourself in the shower. There was a sadness over his features and he nodded toward your things.

“Try and get some sleep,” Rick urged you, his southern accent filling your ears. “You and your baby need it. I will make sure that someone is here to keep you safe until people understand.”

“Are you going to kill him?” You called out and Rick stopped at the door to look back at you. He shifted on his feet and shook his head. “Then what are you doing with him?”

There was a silence and it seemed like he was having a war within himself on whether he wanted to tell you things or not, “Please Rick.”

“We’re going to keep him alive. They started building a cell for him. He will serve as a reminder to people that if they try to do something like this, they will end up like him,” Rick explained with a frown. “He will rot inside of a cell for the rest of his life.”

Your heart ached hearing his final words when he gave you a last look and left you alone in your room after closing the door. The idea that Negan was going to rot inside of a cell broke you. You thought of having a future with him and your baby. Now that you were here, you realized that was a dream you were never going to have anymore. Something that the two of you planned, but were never going to get because of what he did. The two of you had a wonderful time talking about the future the two of your could have with children, but after what happened, that was nothing, but false hope and a hopefully fantasy.

The last time you were in here was with Negan when the two of you had slept together. It was after a fight and now after everything that had happened this all felt so silly. You had a hard time believing Negan was alive. It could have been something that they had been telling you to keep you calm. The sight of Negan’s blood on your hands continued to swirl in your mind and sleep was not an option. Someone getting their throat cut open like that could not have survived. You couldn’t even begin to imagine it.

Days had passed and you had barely left that room unless it was to eat, use the restroom or to take a shower. You had interacted with several people. Aaron, Siddiq and Eugene were a few of the constants. Eugene was making his rounds to try and apologize to you for what he had done. He was the hero for Alexandria, so why he felt the need to apologize to you felt ridiculous. You didn’t want to talk to him though. In fact you refused and you figured that’s why he kept trying. You blamed him partially for what happened to Negan. Rick would occasionally stop in to see you, but it was never for long.

This night while you were sitting in your bed, staring out at the window, you heard the sound of someone opening your door and you lifted your head to look out. Rick was standing at your door and he looked conflicted. He waved his fingers at you to get up and motioned you to follow him. You moved through the house quietly as Rick had instructed you. Following him across the street, you followed him up to a room and when Rick pushed open the door you saw Negan’s tall, slender body stretched out on the bed. His wrists were handcuffed to the bed, his eyes were closed and a bandage covered both his hand and his neck. You went to move into the room, but Rick stopped you before you could.

“You get twenty minutes. Don’t try anything, but…” Rick went to say something more before nodding for you to move forward. You quickly moved into the room and moved beside the bed. Your hand slid into the one that wasn’t injured and you held tightly onto it.

Negan’s chest was rising and falling slowly, his breathing filling the air and you found yourself amazed that he was still alive. Especially after what Rick had done. You lifted your head to see Rick staring at you from the partially opened door, but you didn’t care if you were being watched. You tipped in to press a kiss over Negan’s hand and heard him let out a tight breath.

“Y/N?” Negan’s eyes fluttered open slowly and when his eyes met yours he tried to pull himself up and winced when he tried to lift up off the bed. You hushed him and got up to sit at the edge of the bed and reached out to brush your fingertips throughout his hair.

“Relax,” you urged him seeing the pain spread across his face while you caressed over his flesh. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you right now.”

“I’m sorry,” Negan’s bottom lip quivered and his deep voice was now rasp clearly from what happened. “I should have listened to you…I should have…”

“Stop…” you shook your head not wanting him to hurt himself anymore when the tears pressed in over the corners of his eyes. “It’s okay.”

“You were right,” Negan nodded slowly and you reached for his hand, hooking your fingers with his. You didn’t think he realized that Rick was there watching the two of you, but his emotions had your heart aching. “I was wrong. I thought I was doing right by you…for our family…”

“Baby, don’t,” you heard him wincing in pain and you looked to the water that they had on the nightstand beside the bed. You pulled it close to his lips and watched him take a hefty drink before lowering his head back down. “I’m just happy you’re alive. That’s all that matters.”

“I’ve ruined your life,” Negan muttered and you felt your body shaking. You should have been more upset, but just knowing that he was alive was all that mattered to you. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” you shook your head and heard him crying. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Negan snorted, his eyes looking away from you while you were clearly upset as well. You tried caressing over his damp cheek and it was clear he was embarrassed with his emotions. “I was wrong. I wish I would have listened.”

“Can I stay with him tonight?” you begged looking back toward the door knowing that Rick was there. “I promise I won’t do anything. You can keep someone on the door, but please just let me lay in here with him tonight.”

“Y/N, I don’t…” Rick watched you look to Negan and you shot him a pleading look. Rick nodded and you carefully kicked out of your shoes before crawling into the bed with him. Negan swallowed heavily while he tried to adjust his body enough with the handcuffs still on his wrist. You carefully cuddled up next to Negan and softly laid your head over his chest to hear the pounding of his heart against your ear. You relished in the sound and heard Rick moving back into the room. “Don’t get used to this; it’s a onetime thing.”

“Thank you,” you muttered and Rick looked to you before glancing to Negan with disgust. This was for you and certainly not Negan, but you were thankful for it. Rick moved out of the room and left you with Negan. He didn’t lie in saying that he would send someone to watch, he did, but it didn’t bother you.

All that mattered was Negan was alive and you were still with him.

[marshmallow-phd]

Broken Bracelet

Genre: Drabble Request

Pairing: Kyungsoo x Reader

A/N: Someday, I might actually learn the meaning of “drabble” lol. But I hope you like this! I think I might have gone in a different direction than what you were imagining.

**

You could almost hear the tiny pieces of your heart clattering against the concrete sidewalk as it crumbled. Across the street, your best friend was sitting at a table out in front of his favorite café. And he wasn’t alone.

He’d told you that he had to cancel your standing coffee date because an emergency with Jongin had come up. You were understanding, if a little disappointed. You knew that he would make it up to you one way or another. That’s what best friends did. But you still wanted a cup of your favorite coffee and you didn’t need to wait on Kyungsoo to get it, so you headed out as if your plans hadn’t changed at all.

Right now, you wished you’d never left the ignorant bliss of your living room walls.

Kyungsoo wasn’t alone. Sitting across from him, holding his hand on the table was his first love. The girl that broke his heart. The one who thought she could do better than the sweet soul she had in the palms of her hands.

You thought he was moving on. You thought that he was getting over her, no longer under her spell, pining for her. You even thought-

It was stupid to let yourself travel down that road.

Truth be told, you were hoping that maybe – just maybe ­– he could have been moving on to you. Things had been different between the two of you lately. Looks that lingered a little too long. Accidental touches that created an awkward tension, sending your heart into frenzy. Stumbling over words and cheeks that might be holding the faintest blushes. You could have sworn you saw the same feelings reflecting his eyes.

Kyungsoo had been your friend for a long time, but it was only recently that you began to feel a bit more. Or perhaps it had always been there and you were only now experiencing the side effects. Whatever the timeline was, it’d concluded to this painful break. How was it fair that you were the one who had to feel it?

Something – you weren’t sure of the cause nor did you really care – caused Kyungsoo to turn in his chair, making eye contact with you between the cars that rushed by. You were thankful for the street that separated the two of you. Hopefully the distance covered any red-rimming tears that were forming in your eyes.

Shock made his eyebrows raise. You could almost hear the scraping of the metal chair against the ground as he stood up. The girl with him stretched her neck to get a better look, the curiosity too great to resist. You waved frantically, both in a sad attempt to say hi and to tell Kyungsoo not to bother. Turning on your heels, you hurried down the sidewalk to get away.

Before you could enter the next intersection, the red hand that told you not cross lit up, trapping you in. You contemplated just turning right and keeping with this part of the street, but that was the opposite direction of your home where you desperately wanted to be.

“Wait!”

No, no, no, no, no!

Putting on a brave face and a faux smile, you turned around.

Kyungsoo was breathing heavily. Half bent over, he had his hands on his knees as he tried to regulate his lung usage. He was never much of a runner – or an exerciser of any kind. If this had been any other situation, you would have laughed.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” you said, eyes cast down. “I can get coffee somewhere else.”

“No, I need to explain,” he huffed.

“I get why you wouldn’t want me to know you were meeting with her. She isn’t exactly my favorite person.” Anyone in their right mind would be mad about him canceling on them and then lying about the reason, but that was a secondary betrayal to the feeling of a knife twisting in your heart. “It’s okay, really. You should go back.”

“It was over anyway.”

“It didn’t look over,” you murmured. The image of her hand in his danced mockingly in your mind. If it lingered any longer you’d really start to cry. Losing it on the sidewalk wasn’t exactly on your to-do list for the day.

“It was,” he insisted. You waited for further explanation, but none came. Silence hung between you for a minute or so. The awkwardness wasn’t the heart racing kind you’d grown accustomed to and you wanted out.

“I’ll see you later.” You turned to go, the walking man now lighting up the street sign, giving you a chance to escape.

But you weren’t able to take a full step before Kyungsoo stopped you by your arm. “Wait. It’s really not what you think.”

“Kyungsoo.” You whirled around, deciding that letting out the frustration was a better route than letting out the hurt. “It doesn’t matter what I think. You’re free to make your own choices. I may not care for her, but if you want to get back together – even after everything she did – that’s your decision. I’ll support you no matter what.”

“I was giving her the bracelet back.”

You blinked. “W-what? You gave it back?”

That was… not what you’d been expecting. That bracelet was almost a part of Kyungsoo, like an arm or ear. He wore it nearly every day. It was the only thing he had left to represent his first love and when one of the links broke he sulked around for almost two days before you surprised him and fixed it. The fact that he gave it back to her… did that mean-

“Why?”

“Because I don’t need it anymore,” he stated. A small smile started to creep on his lips.

You folded your arms over your chest, confused as ever. He told you nearly everything that ran through his head, so why did he not tell you this? “And how did you finally reach that decision?”

“I realized I had something better in front of me.”

Before you could even react, Kyungsoo stepped closer and grasped your face in his palms. With the faintest of brushes, he placed his lips against yours. It was short, but it was sweet. An electric wave sparked through your body and no amount of romantic comedies could have prepared you for the fireworks that exploded in your imagination.

Your eyes were wide when he pulled back, making him laugh.

“Did you really not know?” he asked in amazement.

You shook your head. “I hoped, but how could I know? I didn’t think I could ever compare. She was your first love.”

He kissed once more before saying, “She may have been my first love, but I’m hoping to make you my last.”

[kumoriyami-xiuzhen]

Dengeki B’s Log 2015 Nightshade Chojiro Story Translation

Salutations.... I seriously hate how there are no translations for this fandom T_T lol. going to rectify that now.

Edit: I managed to find the publication info for this so I’ve adjusted the post accordingly.

As this is the first thing i've translated for Nightshade... I am going to state that I DO NOT and CANNOT read/understand Japanese and that my translations are all done from Chinese into English with my not-exactly great Chinese reading skills so whatever I translate might not be entirely accurate since I also rely on mtl help. That means I have to find someone else's translations for content in Chinese before doing anything and am severely limited in what I can translate... which in this case is 5 things counting this story. 

Anyway, I chose to translate this Nightshade story first... because I am super biased for Chojiro lol (i will do hanzo’s next... whenever the hell that is since I’m swamped with Hakuoki stuff). This story was published in the 2015 October Dengeki B's Log magazine (though it might also have been originally posted at the following link though it no longer works: http://www.bs-log.com/sp/otomebu/hyakka/ss03.html )... it should be the magazine where this post's scans were from (https://kiminosekaisoshitewatashinosekai.tumblr.com//post/131722446050/requested-百花百狼-戦国忍法帖-scan-from-bs-log-please).

I use square brackets for my translation notes. Also do not repost elsewhere.

Kinda did this on a whim. Enjoy....!

---------------------------------------

Dengeki B’s Log 2015 Nightshade Chojiro Story Translation “Respite from the Rain”

Translation by KumoriYami

"That hurts——"

Even if it was to take a single step, Enju was incapable of enduring the pain in her ankle. If she forced herself to walk the swelling would only get worse. As she started to wonder about what to do next, Enju heard the sound of tree leaves rustling.

"It's raining......."

Her mood was gloomy. Even if she wanted to go back to the village before becoming drenched, that wouldn't be possible. Originally she wanted to train and slipped away from her guard, Gekkomaru, but she had accidentally twisted her ankle.  She let out a sigh, bending over to sit under the shade of a tree, and it felt that the rain was coming down harder now as she looked up towards the sky.

"Nii-sama."

Enju didn't know when her master, Chojiro, started standing beside her, [and] she hadn't been able to detect his breathing at all.

"Is your foot in pain?" "It just twisted a bit, I was trying to head back to the village——"

Chojiro pressed down on Enju's shoulders, who was barely standing up [perhaps trying to stand up given that she sat down], and asked her to sit back down. He then tore off a part of his clothes, and tightly wrapped Enju's ankle with it.

"Ah......!" "Sorry, I wasn't able to control my strength." "N, no, it's alright."

Chojiro always used weapons that required strength to wield, thus he found it difficult to grasp his own strength.

"......Does it hurt?" "No but...... I should be the one apologizing, you just returned from a mission right?"

Because Chojiro had gone out on a mission, Enju was alone and training hard. Perhaps he anticipated her doing so, that as soon as he finished his mission, he came to check on the status of his disciples.  

"That doesn't matter. You're not with Gekkomaru?" "Gekkomaru——he would immediately ask if I got hurt, got tired or worried, so I sent him away." "Is that so? It's not hard to imagine your guard's expression."

Enju heard him let out a soft sigh. Chojiro was almost always expressionless, and while she couldn't be certain that he hadn't laughed, the atmosphere around them however became calm.

"It's beginning to let up, for now we wait." "Yes."

Their conversation stopped after that, and the two of them did not say a word while under the shade of the tree. As master and disciple, Chojiro and Enju spent a lot of time together, but it wasn't for the sake of talking. Most of that time was for training, and even if he spoke, he would only be saying "you should be training more to get stronger," and "you should be working hard on improving your ninjitsu." Not only that, even though the two of them were together in the same place because of the rain now, Enju couldn't think of a subject to a talk about with him.  

"Um...... where did you go for your mission this time?" "Wakasa." Wakasa...... that's quite far. "It's not that far...... but it isn't close."

The topic came to a close again. Although it wasn't difficult for them to talk to one another, Chojiro found it difficult to engage in subjects unrelated to ninjitsu and training. As a shinobi, perhaps that was as it should be. Enju believed he was that sort of person, which proved that he was an excellent ninja.

"......I'd love to go out earlier." "To Wakasa?" "No, on a mission."

Chojiro received an unexpected response. He looked into the distance and started to contemplate. Chojiro was usually on a mission and not at the village, and in comparison, Enju still hasn't gone on her first mission. To complete a mission for the sake of the village...... it could be said that sentence was Enju's mantra.

".......If you keep twisting your ankle while training, that will not be possible." "That's true......"

To actually forget about her current condition, Enju felt ashamed, [but] Chojiro was indifferent as he looked towards he sky. As the black clouds started drifting eastward, the sight of the blue sky slowly became more visible.  

"The sky's [starting to] clear up. Let's return." "Okay...... Ah!"

Enju wanted to stand up with Chojiro, but the pain in her ankle made her groan. Chojiro who turned and saw her reaction, contemplated for a short moment before he suddenly lifted Enju into his arms.

"Nii-sama!?" "Curl your body up. That way you won't get wet from the rain." "B-But...... I'm quite heavy......" "How could you be heavy."

Before Chojiro's astonishing arm strength, Enju could say nothing, and had no choice but to do as he said. He must have thought that if she was carried on his back, she would have gotten soaked. Enju was very pleased by the the level of attention shown by Chojiro who always had a cold and detached expression, and it made her feel very happy.

End

---------

*sigh*

I can seriously swear that it’s not cuz Chojiro’s VA is the same as Saito’s from Hakuoki that I romanced Chojiro first.  

It’s just that I just really have a thing for characters who are quiet, loyal, duty-first, angsty, unable to to figure out their own feelings or put themselves first and are conflicted when it comes to actually feeling... and characters who would do anything for the sake of their significant other.... 

lol. that’s probably why Snake-Eyes form G.I. Joe, Solas and Fenris from Dragon Age and Batman are some of my all-time favourite characters.... also Quiet from MGSV TPP.

[cryptidkieren]

come around (1/6)

ayy waddup its ya boy back at it again with good omens fic

i wrote literally the entire outline and the first couple chapters before my power randomly went out????? so i had to start from scratch rip

heres the ao3 link if you want it :)

edit: so i adjusted the tags a bit and it completely erased the body of the post???? i love being on tungle.com :)

-----

It first began, as these things were wont to do, on a quiet winter morning. This one happened to be in Aziraphale’s bookshop.

The angel had been enjoying his morning, flipping the sign on the door to ‘Open!’ somewhere around 10. The warm light of his gas lamps combined with the smell of old books still put him at ease, even after all these years. Snow was falling softly outside, muffling the chaotic noise of London a bit and bringing with it that impatient sense of the incoming holidays that December promised. He still hadn’t heard anything from the Head Office, not since Adam Young ordered both Heaven and Hell to leave them alone over 6 months before.

Aziraphale blinked in surprise, tea cup resting against his bottom lip.

There stood Crowley, wrapped in too many layers to be comfortable, snow and malice swirling around his feet as he clomped- yes, clomped into the shop. The heavy black boots he wore were packed with already melting snow, making small puddles on the hardwood under him.

“Do shut the door, Crowley, or are you trying to heat all of London?” Aziraphale set his cup back down on the tray beside him, lips twitching as he tried to fight off a grin.

“Anything to end this bloody weather, angel!” The demon waved a gloved hand carelessly at the heavy door, forcing it to close if it knew what was good for it. “I am sick to death of the cold! I might actually be sick! Can demons even get sick? If not, then I am definitely one of a kind!”

Aziraphale chuckled as he got up from his comfortable spot, allowing Crowley to rant and shuck his numerous layers onto the floor. “I swear, you get more prickly every winter, my dear.” The angel snapped his fingers and the scattered outerwear was miraculous hung up on the coat peg by the door.

Crowley glared at him, his dark shades slightly fogged and fiery hair a right state from his designer beanie. “I swear this is my punishment from the bust Armageddon. God is torturing me with this cold front, knowing I’m going to freeze my bollocks off and die!”

The angel snorted, cheeks heating slightly, and covered his mouth. How dramatic. He stepped up to unwind the crimson knit scarf hanging around the demon’s neck. “It’s only the first snowfall of the year, dear. I have no idea why you don’t retire to the south during winter at this point, to be honest. Greece is wonderful this time of year, and I know how you love to make fun of tourists at the Parthenon.” Aziraphale smiled at him, turning to hook the scarf on the coat peg with the demon’s jacket.

It was quiet for a moment. Aziraphale turned back to the other, an eyebrow raised in question. He willed it back down to a normal elevation; he had been spending too much time with Crowley.

The demon in question just stared at him, lips pursed and brows drawn behind his glasses. “You haven’t left your bookshop for that long since you opened it.”

“Um,” Aziraphale blinked, quite confused with the sudden topic change. “I-I suppose that’s true. How is it relevant, though?”

The angel could only as Crowley opened his mouth, paused, and let out a rush of air as he raked a hand through his already messy hair, turning to look out the frosted window. “I guess it isn’t.” He seemed… Dejected?

Oh!

“Crowley-”

Something in Aziraphale’s voice must have caught his attention, for he whipped back around to stare at the other, back ramrod straight and shoulders tight. He looked like he was ready for a fight.

It broke the angel’s heart.

“Crowley, darling,” he said, catching the way the occult being twitched at the endearment. He frowned, not wanting to make his friend uncomfortable. “I-I mean, my boy, this isn’t like Alpha Centauri. If you wanted to go on holiday during the winter, you can always ask. I could never imagine having a problem following you across the world.”

Aziraphale caught up with his own words only moments after they escaped, causing his face to flame and panic to set his heart racing. After 6,000 years, he finally let the cat out of the bag and now Crowley was going to hate him or be disgusted by him or quietly pretend it hadn’t happened and he didn’t know which one would be worse-

Time seemed to slow to a standstill as he watched Crowley open his mouth, obviously about to deliver Aziraphale’s death sentence, when the bell above the door rang out and broke the moment.

They both turned to watch as an elderly woman hobbled in from the cold, snow melting in her silver curly hair. Her lilac colored coat was promptly hung up next to one of Crowley’s, standing out against the all the black. She looked around for a moment, leaning a bit on her wooden cane, before spotting them and smiling politely.

“Good morning, gentlemen! Are one of you the proprietor of this shop?”

“Ah,” Aziraphale choked, clearing his throat slightly as he took a step away from the demon. He valiantly swallowed his terror and slapped on his customer service smile. “That would be me, madam. How may I help you?”

“Oh, I was looking for a book,” she said, hobbling over to him on her cane. Crowley politely moved away from them, towards the counter with the old fashioned register that was barely used.

“Obviously,” the demon muttered, though not very quietly.

The customer narrowed her eyes in his direction, as if she were thinking of hitting him with her cane.

“What kind of book?” Aziraphale jumped in. After all, he didn’t want violence to break out in his shop. He had a feeling Crowley wouldn’t come away unscathed.

The woman turned to him again, making the demon let out a breath audible from across the room. She smirked. “It’s an old book, of course. My great grandmother used to read it to me when I was little, and I wanted to start that tradition up with my newborn grandson.”

The angel smiled warmly, feeling the love pouring out of the elderly woman. One of the perks to being an angel was the ability to feel good things everywhere, like love, which this woman seemed to have an abundance of. “Of course, madam. Would you happen to have the title or the author?”

Here, the woman sighed mournfully. “‘Fraid not, dearie. My memory isn’t what it used to be. I can remember bits and pieces, though, would that help?”

Even a demon couldn’t say no to her hopeful, pleading face. Good thing he wasn’t, as the angel jumped at the chance to help.

“Worth a shot, right?” Aziraphale smiled widely, ushering her over to his chair with the untouched tea service. A little twitch of his fingers and the pot was steaming once more. He sat on the small floor pouf decorated with little bow ties tucked under the chair, something Crowley once got him as a gag gift. “Please, make yourself comfortable and tell me what you remember.”

He listened as the elderly woman described her book and sipped her tea, smiling as he made notes on a little notepad from his pocket. He admired the woman’s dedication to details, such as the texture of the pages and the style of the front cover.

Of course, he also noticed how Crowley leaned against the counter behind her, watching them with his chin in his hand. His eyes were unreadable behind his spectacles, but the small smile on his lips was easier to define.

Aziraphale ducked his head again, hiding his own smile.

When the woman finished her description, the angel straightened up and checked his notes. It sounded familiar enough…

“Oh!” he grinned, swiftly rising from his own seat before helping the old woman to her feet. “I think I know where that is!”

His enthusiasm was contagious, apparently, as even Crowley grinned and moved out of the way when the angel came bustling around the counter. He headed towards a case in the North wing, already picturing where the novel would be housed.

Aziraphale grinned as he looked up at the top shelf of the case. There it was, sitting amongst its brethren, just as he thought it would be! As he reached up, he immediately encountered a problem: it was inches out of reach.

The angel frowned, straining and stretching his arm, trying to make up the distance. He contemplated performing a miracle to get it down, but the woman was watching him with barely contained amusement.

He dropped back to his heels, toes and side aching a bit, as he stared up at the offending novel. The angel heard a huff of laughter behind him before a darkly clad arm suddenly invaded his eyesight. “Honestly, angel, I’m going to buy you a step ladder one of these days.”

The heavy book was dropped into Aziraphale’s hands. He blinked at it for a moment before his felt his entire face grow warm. Wrinkling his nose at the smirking demon, he thanked him primly before turning back to his customer.

Before he could even start, the woman chuckled, deepening her wrinkles. “My wife used to do things like that for me too, bless her soul.” Her bittersweet expression only touched on the sudden feeling of melancholic love she pushed out from her soul, causing Aziraphale’s breath to stutter in his lungs.

It also didn’t help that her insinuation made his cooling face reignite with embarrassment.

“Oh! He’s not- We’re not- I mean-”

Crowley fled then, heading towards the back room with bright red ears . Aziraphale caught a glimpse of his hand over his mouth before he disappeared and the angel felt his stomach drop out.

Oh. Alright. Disgust was the answer to that question, then.

“Don’t worry, love,” Aziraphale’s quiet breakdown was interrupted by the elderly woman, whom he had quite forgotten about as his heart was breaking. “Nothing to be embarrassed about. Your young man seems to love you very much.”

The angel smiled tightly at the woman, feeling his face flush further against his will. He quickly brought the book to the register, intent on getting her out as soon as possible. As he was writing out the necessary information for his records, the older woman placed a hand on his own, effectively capturing his attention.

“Listen, my dear, if you two really aren't together, then you're both blind.” The woman raised an eyebrow at the angel, a kind smile on her lips. “It’s obvious to just about anyone with eyes that you love each other, and time isn't forever. If I could go back and be with my wife sooner, I would, because there was already so much wasted time before we both had to buck up and have a little faith.”

She patted his hand, then, grinning mischievously. Hers was dark and soft against his own, heavily lined though he had lived so much longer than her. “Have courage, my dear. As the kids say, you only live once.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Aziraphale bit his lip, ducking his head as the customer withdrew her hand. He finished cashing her out (at an extraordinarily discounted price, to boot) and helped her back into her coat. As she left the shop, the bell ringing happily above her, the angel sighed deeply as his earlier panic reared its ugly head again. He would rather face all of Heaven alone than go find Crowley at that moment.

Aziraphale steeled himself and determinedly made his way to the back room. It was cramped, the space not really made for what he used it for, but it was comfortable. The small kitchenette shoved in the corner was rarely used, while the tattered sofa and threadbare armchair dominated most of the space.

Crowley himself was lounging on the sofa, a glass of something amber in his hands despite the early hour.

“What a lovely woman,” Aziraphale said with a smile and a shake of his head. He moved to the kitchenette, determined to make himself a cup of tea the human way to soothe his simmering anxiety.

“Sure, lovely, right,” he muttered, draining his glass in one go. The angel tutted reproachfully.

“Isn’t it a bit early for that, Crowley?” He sat in the armchair with a contented sigh, sipping delicately on his too hot tea.

He didn’t have to see the demon’s eyes to know he was rolling them. “It’s five o’clock somewhere, etcetera etcetera.” He then reached for the crystal bottle on the table between them to refill his glass.

It grew quiet then, Aziraphale occasionally sipping from his cup while Crowley stared into his as if it held answers he was searching for. The old clock on the wall ticked away, the only noise in the room.

The angel took the time to ponder on what the old woman said. ‘Have courage.’ He felt his heart ache something fierce, a well of yearning opening up in him. He wished he had courage.

But courage couldn’t make Crowley love him. His expression as he made a break for it earlier was proof enough of that.

His mounting inner turmoil was then interrupted by the being who caused it.

“Tempt you to a spot of lunch, angel?”

Aziraphale smiled at him, feeling brittle, as he set down his cup. “It’s barely gone half past ten, Crowley. They’re not serving lunch anywhere at the moment.”

The demon huffed, sitting forward to set his own glass down next to the angel’s. He looked at Aziraphale over his sunglasses, golden eyes sparkling in the lamp light, as a mischievous smirk settled on his face. “Brunch, then. I know how you adore those little pie things in that café in Athens.”

“Oh, their spinach and feta pites are to die for,” Aziraphale moaned, already craving the dish. A sudden choking noise made him turn back to the demon.

Crowley’s glasses had slid down his pointy nose, allowing him to stare openly at the angel. Two spots of color sat high on his cheeks. He didn’t appear to be breathing.

“Crowley? Are you alright, my dear?”

He seemed to snap out of whatever trance held him then, jerking back as he roughly pushed his dark glasses back up. The color on his cheeks seemed to be spreading.

“I’m fine, I’m good,” Crowley said roughly. He jumped up from the sofa then, giving the angel a start. “Race you to Greece!”

And he was gone, the bell at the front tinkling behind him.

Aziraphale shook his head with a small chuckle. He rose from his own seat at a more leisurely pace, snapping his fingers to clean the glasses and send them back to their cupboard.

“What a cheat.”

Then he chased after his demon, feeling content enough.

-----

[next chapter]

[heart-eyes-matteo]

It’s You ~ David x Matteo

Hi, here’s that best friends to lovers AU I was talking about, I hope it’s okay!!

AO3 Link: In the reblog

Word Count: 6952

Warnings: none

Summary:

“And at school while he’s looking at Hanna, I’m…” he trailed off for a moment, lowering his voice timidly, “...looking at him.”

David nodded, his eyes downcast, and Matteo couldn’t help but think from the level of understanding on his face that he knew somehow what that was like. He brushed the thought off though - they were best friends at this point, and if David liked someone he would be the first to know. Right?

~

Or the one where Matteo and David are best friends. That is - until feelings become involved.

*Fic is under the break*

Matteo was 14 years old when he saw first saw David. They were on break, and Jonas had declared they desperately needed fresh air or they’d wither away inside. He was right, although Matteo really didn’t want him to be. He enjoyed spending his days at Jonas’ place playing video games, pretending that the world around them didn’t exist. That the fighting between his parents didn’t exist.

After a few days of consistent rainfall, the clouds had finally eased up to allow some sunshine. A gentle breeze gusted over the park, rustling his hair and misplacing a few strands as he plucked a flower from the ground and dropped it on Carlos’ head. The boy snorted and messed up his own hair in attempt to remove it.

“Matteo stop picking flowers,” Jonas groaned, not looking up from his phone for a second.

“I’m bored,” came the equally whiny response, earning him a laugh from Abdi.

“Dude, you’re literally always bored unless you’re playing video games.”

“So what? Video games are sick,” he retorted, flicking a smartie at the boy.

Jonas glanced up for a brief moment to roll his eyes, before returning right back to his phone. Matteo was almost tempted to ask what he was doing, but he knew that would only lead to one of the vague answers they had been receiving from Jonas as of late. He’d never admit it aloud, but he was beginning to worry slightly about what it was that he was so adamant on hiding.

He had forgotten to charge his phone overnight, which had to be some of the worst timing in the world because Jonas had chosen that particular day for wanting fresh air. He cursed his bad luck under his breath as he glanced about the park, trying to find some sort of entertainment. There was a woman there with her toddler, a family, another group of kids and a boy sitting alone.

Matteo eyebrows furrowed slightly as his eyes landed on him. His dark hair fell insistently over his eyes as he leaned over his sketchbook, headphones on to drown out the world around him. Matteo did that a lot at home these days, although he’d never tell anyone that. Despite not being able to see the boy’s face fully he could tell there was concentration written all over it, his hand guiding the pencil in smooth motions. He looked somewhat out of place at a park full on kids on a sunny day, wearing all black and radiating the energy of someone who didn’t want to be approached.

Mateo thought about how he felt when he was alone, and he couldn’t help but wonder why anyone would come to a park like this by themselves. Maybe he liked being alone? Matteo could hardly imagine what that would be like.

“I’ve got it guys!” Jonas yelled out in triumph, but for once Matteo’s attention wasn’t on him. It was still on the boy sitting by himself, who was now looking up curiously as if he could feel someone’s eyes on him. His gaze met Matteo’s, and for a brief moment he forgot how to breath. A faint smile ghosted over the boy’s lips, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

Carlos waved a hand in front of his face. “Hello? Earth to Matteo?”

Matteo just swatted at Carlos’ arm, redirecting his attention towards Jonas. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

“I know where we can get some weed to try!”

Matteo pushed aside the uneasy feeling in his stomach and forced a smile onto his face. “Nice,” he nodded, giving him a clap on the back.

“Lets go back guys. I’m bored as fuck,” said Abdi, getting to his feet.

Matteo groaned and held out his arms, which the boy begrudgingly took to help him up.

As they made their way towards the footpath, Matteo gave Abdi a playful shove. “So when I say I’m bored you guys make fun of me, but when Abdi says he’s bored we go? What the fuck is that!”

Jonas laughed and slung an arm over his shoulder, which had an annoying bunch of butterflies appearing in Matteo’s stomach.

“That’s because Abdi isn’t bored by everything,” Jonas explained.

“Oh fuck off,” he mumbled, earning himself another laugh.

Matteo glanced back towards the bench for a final time, only to discover that the boy was gone. He stared in confusion for a moment, before shrugging and tuning back into what Jonas was saying.

~

It was a few weeks later when term had started that Matteo saw the boy again. Despite the sunshine they were having that day, there was a chilling breeze outside that had people tugging at their coats and tightening their scarves.

Matteo was walking casually through the corridors, fashionably late to his Science class as he often was. He was scanning the area absentmindedly as he walked, in no particular rush whatsoever to reach his destination. His eyes landed on that boy from the park, which had Matteo double-taking in an almost comical fashion. There was no mistaking him - he had dark hair and warm brown eyes, wearing all black as he had been the first time. He was leant up against the wall with the same sketchpad in his arms, drawing away with his headphones on.

Something in Matteo had him stopping all of sudden, and as the boy slowly looked up at him he began to realise what an awful idea that had been. He had no clue what to say, so he ended up standing there silently for a moment or two, probably looking like idiot.

“Hey,” he settled on saying. “I’m Matteo.”

The boy’s smile was amused, but it didn’t seem unkind.

“I’m David,” he greeted. “Did you want something?”

Matteo wracked his brain for something to say that wouldn’t make him seem like any more of an idiot, but he came up blank. He was used to feeling awkward around new people, but this had to be a whole new level of mortifying - this guy was cool in an intimidating way.

“Uh...not really. You’re new, right?”

David nodded, still looking amused. “Yeah. I’m new.”

“Well...let me know if you need help with anything,” he said, not even fully aware of what was leaving his mouth. He honestly had no idea what was happening to him - usually he was never one to initiate something like this.

The boy’s playful smile melted into something fonder. “Thanks, Matteo.”

~

The following day brought rainfall with it, which really shouldn’t have been surprising given the angry grey storm clouds Matteo had seen on the way to school. It happened to be a perfect reflection of his mood at that moment after having locked himself in his room for the whole night to escape the sounds of his parents fighting. They had clashed for as long as he could remember, but he swore it had never been this bad before. Turning up the volume of his music helped in drowning out the yelling, but it didn’t drown out the knowledge of what was occurring between his parents in the next room.

It had started out with one tear. Then another. Then another, until soon he was crying and getting up from his seat in the cafeteria, mumbling something to his friends about needing to go through to the bathroom. He stumbled slightly on the way there, his throat tight as silent tears turned into sobs that he had to muffle with his hand. He reached the boy’s bathroom and grabbed on tightly to the sink like it was a lifeline, looking into the mirror and trying desperately to calm himself down somehow. He hated crying more than anything, but sometimes it was hard for him to stop.

He thought about his dad, and how he kept talking about wanting to move back to Italy. He thought about his mom, and how she wasn’t getting the help he knew she needed.  He thought about having to potentially move out, about how alone he would feel in a place by himself.

He was drowning in his own thoughts, so much so that he hadn’t even heard the door being gently pushed open and closed again.

“Matteo?”

The voice snapped him out of whatever daze he had been. He whirled around then, looking alarmed despite the knowledge that he wasn’t the only one who had access to this bathroom.

“Oh. David.”

The boy bit his lip for a moment, and Matteo could practically see the gears in his head turning.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

David raised a disbelieving eyebrow, tilting his head in a way that almost seemed playful.

Matteo smiled weakly. “I’d prefer not to talk about it.”

David nodded, and silence fell between them for a moment. Matteo was seriously considering just thanking him for his concern and relocating to a different bathroom, but David spoke up again before he could move at all.

“Wanna sit down for a moment?”

Matteo could barely conceal his shock at that. This boy, who he barely knew, wanted to sit with him...because he seemed sad? He contemplated this for a seconds, before nodding hesitantly.

“Sure.”

He wasn’t entirely sure why he had agreed. Maybe it had been the concern softening David’s features, or the warmth in his eyes. Either way, they ended up sat outside the bathroom, leaning up against the wall.

“When I’m feeling sad, there’s this song I listen to,” David explained, pulling earphones out of his bag and untangling them.

“Now you can’t judge for this,” he continued, which had Matteo smiling faintly despite the tear tracks that were still on his face.

He managed to untangle them after a few seconds, handing one over to Matteo and plugging them into his phone.

“You may know these guys,” he said, keeping his screen purposely shielded as he scrolled through his songs.

Matteo’s smile widened slightly as the opening verse began to play, giving the boy a playful shove. He could barely believe that this song was being played to him by a cool-looking guy in all black with a sketchbook on him at all times.

“Seriously? This is your taste in music?”

“The rest of my music is good!” he defended with a laugh.

Everyone else in the room can see it

Everyone else but you

Matteo bit his lip to contain a grin as David mouthed along to a few of the lines, elbowing him playfully. He was enjoying himself miraculously enough, which was the last thing he thought he’d be doing this lunchtime.

“Look - you’re trying not to smile! It’s working!”

“Shut up,” Matteo laughed, feeling more at ease than he had at any point during that day. David had been a welcome distraction, with his cheesy song and his charming smile, and from that moment forth their dynamic shifted to resemble something more like friendship.

~

When Matteo was 15 he spent a lot of his nights in his room, listening to loud music through his headphones to drown out the noise in his house. The fighting was becoming constant now, and the yelling was becoming increasingly aggressive in a way that had his heart racing in his chest whenever he heard it. It was one of these nights, except this night happened to be slightly different. David was over, but his parents didn’t know this - Matteo hadn’t expected them home until much later, and he was kind of having an internal freak out over the whole thing.

“Is this what you have to go through every night?” David whispered, clearly alarmed by the situation.

The boy’s usual air of confidence was gone, although he was clearly trying to maintain a brave face. It was pouring rain outside, and the insistent pattering it produced against the roof was only contributing to all of the noise in that house, drowning Matteo in sound that he desperately wanted to cover up with music like he always did. He hated the feeling of being lost in itself, but the feeling of being lost amongst the loud shouts that would resonate around his apartment was something he’d never be able to describe with words.

“It’s nothing,” he sighed, brushing David off. “It’ll be over in 30 minutes or so. Maybe 40.”

David’s eyebrows were furrowed with concern now. Matteo was so used to the sarcastic version of the boy he knew that it caught him off guard slightly.

“It’s fine,” he repeated, more insistent now, but David just tipped his head to the side, clearly not believing him.

“Is this why you never invite me over when they’re home?” he asked slowly, clearly trying to tread lightly.

Matteo bit his lip harsh to stop it from wobbling in the way it always did before he burst into tears. He got up silently and relocated to his bed, sitting to face the wall. It was a futile attempt to block David out, considering they were both in the same room, but it was an attempt nonetheless. There was silence between them for a moment, then he felt the bed dip beside him.

“Why do you do that?” David asked, softer now.

Matteo looked over at him in confusion, forgetting for a moment that he was trying to keep his gaze firmly on the wall.

“Do what?” he questioned.

“Try to hide whenever you’re about to cry.”

He had no idea what it was about the words, but they seemed to open the floodgates because suddenly there were tears rolling down his face. Matteo reverted back to staring at the wall, and after a moment he felt David’s head fall gently on his shoulder. They both remained like that for what seemed like ages, with David’s arms wrapped around him.

It probably hadn’t seemed like much to David at the time, but to Matteo it meant everything. He was so used to coping on his own, he couldn’t describe how nice it felt to finally be able to lean on someone - both physically and emotionally.

~

“You’re a fucking asshole!” Matteo laughed, throwing the controller down on the couch.

David laughed along beside him, his eyebrows raised in a smug fashion. “Yeah? Well at least I’m an asshole that’s better at Mario Kart than you are.”

That earnt him a playful shove,

It was a dreary Saturday evening, with no rainfall despite all of the clouds that were blanketing the sky. Matteo had been in a constant state of stress over the past week due to tests, and this was the first day he could confidently say didn’t suck.

Everyone knew David was ridiculously good at Mario Kart, and they’d always ask Matteo why he was ‘insane enough’ to play with him despite this fact. He honestly couldn’t tell them why, he just liked the bright smile that would always light up David’s face whenever he won. That answer sounded somewhat weird though, so he kept that safely to himself.

“What should we do now?” Matteo asked with a sigh, collapsing back down on the couch.

David collapsed down next to him, still smiling. “I don’t know. What do people usually do at sleepovers?”

Matteo looked away bashfully. At sleepovers with his friends, they usually spent their time discussing all the girls they liked, and that had never particularly been an interesting conversation for him so that was definitely out of the cards.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Do you like anyone?” he asked casually, eliciting a choked noise from David.

“Pardon?” he coughed, and Matteo couldn’t help but raise a surprised eyebrow.

“What the hell was that?”

“Fuck off,” David said with a laugh, but it didn’t have any heat behind it. “It’s just…”

“Just…” Matteo teased, mimicking David’s voice.

“Never mind. Do you like anyone?”

Matteo could feel his face growing warm already, which was somewhat mortifying. He contemplated it in his head for a moment, building up the courage, before letting out a heavy exhale and sitting up.

“I like Jonas,” he blurted out, and David’s face twisted from one of curiosity to one of shock to one of...no way. He was just seeing things.

“Oh. That’s cool...he seems like a nice guy.”

Matteo let out a dramatic sigh, playing with the bracelet around his wrist as he thought about what to say. David had been the first person he came out to, so the amount of shock that had been on face seemed kind of strange.

“He is,” Matteo nodded, frowning slightly at the way David was refusing to meet his eye.

The other boy suggested suddenly that they try drawing in his sketchbook, which had become somewhat of a tradition for them, and Matteo hastily agreed. The dreary sky outside filled the room with washed out lighting that Matteo had never really appreciated, so he closed the blinds and turned on his warm lamps before settling down at the table with David and picking up a pencil. He watched the boy draw for a moment, becoming slightly caught up on how endearing his look of concentration was, before starting on some of his own drawings.

Somehow, the topic returned to Jonas, and from there it turned to Matteo complaining about his hopeless crush on him.

“I never even realised how much I liked the idiot until he started dating Hanna. How unfair is that?” he asked, while David nodded along.

“That sucks,” he agreed, seeming absent-minded when he really wasn’t in the slightest. He was clinging onto every word, hoping desperately that this was some bad dream he could wake up from.

“And at school while he’s looking at Hanna, I’m…” he trailed off for a moment, lowering his voice timidly, “...looking at him.”

David nodded, his eyes downcast, and Matteo couldn’t help but think from the level of understanding on his face that he knew somehow what that was like. He brushed the thought off though - they were best friends at this point, and if David liked someone he would be the first to know. Right?

~

“I’m trans.”

Matteo looked up, trying hard to conceal his shock. The confession had seemed sudden, but from the look on David’s face he knew it had probably been on his mind for ages.

“Oh. Well that’s fine,” said Matteo, settling down on the couch next to him.

David’s smile looked so relieved that Matteo couldn’t help but frown.

“Oh fuck. Were you scared of telling me? David I-”

“Matteo it’s fine,” he interrupted with a laugh. “It’s coming out in general that I don’t like. Not just to you.”

Matteo nodded slowly, turning the information over in his head. “How long have you been thinking about telling me?” he asked.

David hesitated for a moment before responding. “A few months.”

That in itself had Matteo’s frown deepening. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. But I will be now, okay?”

The smile David gave him at that was blinding. He leaned his head on Matteo’s shoulder, letting out a shaky exhale. “Thanks.”

Matteo spent the following few weeks researching as much as he could about being trans, and David had only found out about it when he discovered his search history a month later. To say he was shocked as a total understatement, but Matteo just shrugged and told him it’s what all friends should do. David was visibly more relaxed around Matteo from that forth, smiling more, laughing more, talking more openly about why he needed breaks sometimes to go to the bathroom, and Matteo couldn’t be happier for him. Despite all of their playful insults towards one another, he really did want David to feel as comfortable as possible around him.

They were friends after all - probably even best friends at this point.

~

When Matteo was 16 he moved into a flat share. It wasn’t a sudden decision by any means; he had been discussing it with David for 6 months before he finally made the leap, spurred on by his dad’s announcement that he would be moving back to Italy. He lingered back for a week or two to make sure his mum was okay, but eventually he couldn’t keep justifying the stress it caused him to see her in the state she was in.

That brought him where he was now; at his flat share, unpacking his things. He didn’t own a lot, but David was there helping him anyway. The day had brought sunshine with it after a week of miserable weather, and Matteo couldn’t help but feel somewhat hopeful as he parted his curtains, allowing sunlight to flood the room.

“It’s a nice room,” said David, smiling as pulled a stuffed cat from one of Matteo’s bags. “And look - a nice cat too!”

Matteo rolled his eyes fondly, moving across the room and holding out a hand. “Hand over the cat.”

“What if I don’t want to?” David teased, stepping back when Matteo stepped forward.

Matteo just raised a challenging eyebrow, advancing forward even further. David turned around, laughing when the other boy wrapped his arms around him. They ended up stumbling about, laughing and attempting to throw each other off. The soft sounds of 80’s music that were coming from Matteo’s phone filled the room as they both fell onto the bed in a heap, with David hovering above him. His eyes were alight with laughter and mischief, which had a foreign feeling appearing in Matteo’s stomach. One that seemed awfully like...no. Fuck no.

Their smiles faded into something softer as they both lingered there, unsure of what to say or do. A loud bang interrupted them, and David practically sprung to his feet as Jonas, Carlos and Abdi waltzed into the room. Jonas had a slight wince on his face.

“Sorry guys. That was loud,” he said, sitting down casually on the bed beside Matteo.

“Jonas! Hi,” he said, scrambling up into a sitting position.

David took a deep breath, looking dejectedly between the pair for a moment. “I’ll go get us some...food,” he said quietly, walking hurriedly out of the room.

Matteo’s eyebrows were furrowed slightly with confusion as he watched the boy leave, tempted for a moment to get up and follow him. Jonas draped an arm over his shoulder, the goofy smile on his face suggesting he hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary.

“What about a party tomorrow night to celebrate your new flat, dude?”

Carlos and Adbi nodded eagerly, while Matteo seemed hesitant, shifting his gaze uncertainly. It wouldn’t be a tolerable party for him unless David was there, and with the way he looked leaving the room Matteo wasn’t sure if he was in the best state to come along. Parties were fun and all, but lately he had found them to be overwhelming with their loud, pulsing music and large swarms of people. A part of him knew it was largely because he was closeted, and watching girls and boys being able to make out freely without worrying created a jealous pit in his stomach.

“Yeah maybe,” he settled on saying, saying up from the bed. “I’ll be right back.”

He left the room then, paying no mind to the confused glances that his friends all exchanged. He found David hovering in the kitchen, putting together sandwiches and humming quietly to himself. Matteo watched the scene with a fond smile; David rarely let his guard down in this way. His hair looked soft, tinged gold from the sunlight streaming in through the window, and he had earphones plugged in as he moved about.

Matteo cleared his throat pointedly, prompting David to look over at him. He didn’t look alarmed at all, which had a fluttery feeling entering Matteo’s stomach as he walked over. David had been comfortable around him for some time now, but the realisation never failed in bringing a smile to his lips.

“You okay?” he asked, approaching cautiously.

“Yeah,” said David with a shrug, continuing to move about the kitchen.

Matteo raised a disbelieving eyebrow at that, moving forward to stand in front of the boy as he turned around.

“You seemed upset just now. Did Jonas and the boys do something?”

David stared back at him, biting his lip out of obvious frustration, looking like he desperately wanted to yell something out. Matteo stared back challengingly.

“You’re so stupid, Matteo Florenzi,” he mumbled, side-stepping the boy and approaching the sandwich press again.

Matteo raised a hand to his chest in mock offence. “Okay, okay, no need to be an asshole.”

David just shot him a smug smile, and Matteo couldn’t help but wonder if that had always caused a swarm of butterflies to appear in his stomach.

~

Matteo gave into hosting a party the following day after some convincing from his friends, who all insisted that this was ‘a big step’ for him that had to be celebrated. Matteo couldn’t help but think they were using this as an excuse to get drunk and make out with girls, but he had checked in with David to make sure he would be there so he honestly didn’t care less about what they did.

Hans, his new overly-enthusiastic roommate, had welcomed the idea with open arms and was currently helping him prepare the apartment.

“So Michi might come over tonight after the party,” he told him with a bright smile.

Matteo nodded along, having already been filled in on the unique relationship they shared. He set down some plastic red cups on the counter, raising an eyebrow at the man.

“You two are seeing each other again?” he asked.

Hans chuckled and shook his head. “Oh no, not at all. He’s far too boring for me to be ‘seeing’ him. We’re just-”

“Okay, okay, got it,” Matteo interrupted with a wince, rolling his eyes at Hans’ cackling laughter

They’d left setting up until the very last moment, which explained the sharp knocking that filled the apartment a few moments later. Matteo groaned slightly and walked over to the door, throwing it open with a fake smile.

“Oh,” he gasped after a moment. “David!”

The boy arched an amused eyebrow. “You seem surprised.”

Matteo’s fake smile melted into a genuine one as he stepped aside to allow David inside.

“I’m not,” he laughed. “I don’t even know why I gasped.”

That was such a huge lie Matteo was scared for a moment that David would see right through it, but he just smiled again and wandered over to the kitchen. He stood there for a moment, probably looking like an idiot with the dumbstruck look on his face.

David looked good. Like - really good.

He had always known his friend was attractive - he wasn’t blind by any means, despite his refusal that day to help Hans judge the hotness of men on Grindr. Right now though his hair was styled up, his eyes were sparkling with mischief and he wore a black leather jacket with jeans. Matteo was so caught up in his staring that he hadn’t even noticed Jonas, Carlos and Adbi enter the apartment, and that was virtually impossible given how loud they all were.

He felt strangely hot all over, absentmindedly closing the door as he continued to stare. Surely looking as good as David did at that moment had to be illegal, with the way Matteo had currently been reduced to a star-struck idiot.

The way he felt now, watching David laugh as he talked to Carlos, was completely different to way he used to feel looking at him, and that thought in itself was terrifying. Lately when he looked out the window during class his mind would wander to David rather than Jonas, and now that he thought about it his urge to constantly be around Jonas had diminished over the past few months. It had all become about David, and that realisation hit him like a truck as he continued to stand there dumbly.

He could not like his best friend. This could absolutely not be happening.

Later on when the party was in full swing he was having his usual back-and-forth with David in the kitchen, leaning back against the counter with a smirk while David stood in front of him looking unfairly good, a plastic red cup in hand. This was a normal thing for them to do at parties, but somehow Matteo could feel himself blushing about ten times more than he usually did.

“Your face is awfully red Matteo, are you okay?” David teased, earning himself a playful swat on the shoulder.

“It’s hot in here,” the boy responded stubbornly, taking another sip of his drink.

“Oh sorry - should I leave?”

Matteo bit his lip to contain a smile, rolling his eyes playfully. “You’re such an asshole.”

David just laughed, and that sound should not have had Matteo grinning in the way it did.

He was so fucked.

~

Matteo was 17 when he finally told David that his crush on Jonas was gone. He hadn’t even really been planning to in all honesty, but they were lounging about on Matteo’s bed one evening eating cheese toasties and when David had rolled over to look over at him, something in him just snapped.

“I like don’t like Jonas anymore.”

It had been a miserable day outside, with heavy rain pattering against the room and filling the silence that fell between them after that. Hans was at Michi’s place (Matteo still thought their relationship was more serious than Hans let on) and Linn was visiting family. They were alone there, looking at one another, and Matteo had to take a deep, audible breath to calm himself.

“Oh,” said David after a while, still looking somewhat shell-shocked. “When did that happen?”

Matteo shrugged, trying to seem like he had no idea despite being able to pinpoint the exact moment he had realised - at that party when they were 16. Truthfully, he was hoping deep down that this information would spur David on somehow.

“He’s kind of annoying, honestly.”

David laughed, and the sound was filled with so much relief Matteo couldn’t help but wonder. Was there a change David liked him back?

“Actually - I think you’re the annoying one. He’s nice.”

“Hey!” Matteo accused, smiling softly when David just laughed.

His gaze fell on David again, and for a few lingering moments he had the urge to just lean forward and close the gap between them. The thought scared him so much though that he refrained - he had kissed girls before, but he had never kissed a boy in his life. Let alone his best friend.

“Wanna play Mario Kart?” David asked him with one those mischievous smiles.

Matteo could only nod yes, playfully pushing the boy back onto the bed as he tried to get back and rushing toward the door.

“Fuck you!” he laughed, letting out a playful huff when Matteo just stuck his tongue out and ran towards the living room.

~

From that moment forth, something noticeably shifted in his interactions with David. There was a new underlying tension there that made him feel fluttery inside, and eventually even the girl crew began to pick up on it.

Sometimes everything would melt away around them when they looked at one another for a lingering moment, both clearly wanting to say more, do more, but not knowing if they should. Sometimes Matteo would laugh particularly hard at something David had said, and for a moment the other boy would just watch him, smiling fondly, looking as though he wanted more than anything for Matteo to this happy all the time. It was no secret that were inseparable at school, constantly exchanging glances, constantly whispering to one another, constantly sitting together. Even Jonas would look over at them sometimes, his smile knowing in a way that had Matteo’s heart leaping into his throat.

David would bite his lip sometimes when they were alone as though he desperately wanted to say something, but didn’t quite know how. Matteo had come dangerously close on multiple occasions to blurting the words ‘what the fuck are we?’ but he had always managed to restrain himself at the last moment.

“So Matteo,” Mia began, her voice gentle as it always was when she was hesitant about asking something.

The boy hummed and looked over at her, pausing his internet surfing for a moment. “Yeah?”

“How’s David?”

He very nearly choked on his own saliva at that, coughing violently and bringing a hand up to cover his mouth. He had come out to Mia about a year ago, but that was the last thing he’d been expecting to hear at that moment.

Mia laughed and shuffled over on the couch to pat him on the back. “Are you okay?” she asked, clearly trying to hide her amusement.

All Matteo could bring himself to do was give a weak nod. “I’m fine. And David’s also fine! I don’t know why you would…” he trailed off uncertainly and bit his lip. Was there any point in trying to deny it anymore?

Mia raised an eyebrow, her eyes shining curiously. “So you don’t like David then?”

Matteo let out a heavy sigh. “Okay yeah...I guess I do.”

She gave him a kind smile at that, clearing sensing his hesitance. Mia had always been that way; sensitive to what other people were feeling, sometimes scarily so.

“That’s great, Matteo. Are you going to tell him?”

Matteo gave a small shrug, not even fully sure himself. He had come ridiculously close so many times it almost felt as though he’d never be able to commit to it.

“We’ll see,” he ended up saying, and Mia nodded in understanding.

“He’s very cute,” she said, giving him a playfully elbow.

Matteo felt his face redden at that. “He is,” he couldn’t help but agree, smiling as Mia gave him a wink and leant her head on his shoulder.

“How’s Alex?” he asked, but the girl just shook her head.

“Lets keep talking about David,” she murmured, her tone pleading.

Matteo was almost inclined to ask what was wrong, but it was obvious that Mia didn’t want to talk about Alex at that moment so he gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze and began talking about David.

~

It was another rainy evening, and Matteo and David were both rugged up in sweaters trying to do maths homework. Matteo even went the extra mile and wrapped a scarf around his neck, because he had trouble concentrating on maths as it was without feeling cold.

David was leaning over the table, his chin rested on his hands as he watched Matteo write. There was a playful smile on his lips that Matteo couldn’t help but find awfully distracting, but he tried to focus anyway.

“What the fuck is this?” he groaned after a few moments, gesturing down at the page.

David arched a perfect eyebrow as he read over the question. “That, my dear Matteo, is an equation.”

Matteo snorted. “You’re annoying; you know that?”

David’s smile widened. He moved around the table to sit beside Matteo. “Okay...well do you know what type of equation it is?”

Matteo just gave him a blank look, which seemed to tell David what he needed to know.

“It’s a linear equation. They want you plot a graph.”

He would never admit to it, but Matteo did actually know what he was talking about. He was just finding excuses at this point for David to lean into his space, and this happened to be one of them.

“I have no idea what that means.”

David gave him a knowing look, but he leaned over anyway and picked up his pencil.

“First you find the x and y intercepts,” he mumbled, and oh god - David’s face was so close to his own that all he would have to do is dip his head slightly and-

“Like this,” said David, glancing over at the boy with a small smile as he wrote.

Matteo nodded absentmindedly, his gaze shifting involuntarily down to the curve of his lips. They looked so goddamn kissable, Matteo was pretty sure he was about to lose his mind. His eyelashes were long, fluttering delicately, and he wanted nothing more than to tell David how cute he was. So he did.

“You’re really cute.”

David’s alarmed gaze met his, his eyes widened. “Pardon?”

“You’re um...you’re really cute,” he repeated, wondering deep down where the hell this courage was coming from.

“Oh,” said David, softer now. “...Thanks.”

He put the pencil down in favour of shifting in his seat to face Matteo, lightly biting his lip. Matteo’s breath caught in his throat. He quickly got up from his chair, heart racing, and moved over to the kitchen.

“I have leftover pasta in the fridge! Do you want to have a lunch break?”

He glanced back at David, who was still looking at him in that same heated way. Matteo inhaled sharply and turned back around.

“Um, sure,” came the delayed response after a moment, and Matteo busied himself with heating up pasta for them.

Matteo had kissed girls, hell - he had even made out with them, but he had never kissed someone who he genuinely liked. The fact that this person just happened to be his best friend really wasn’t helping matters either. Maybe one day he would pluck up the courage to kiss David.

Today just wasn’t that day.

~

Matteo was 18 when he finally kissed David.

The sun was setting, colouring the sky an array of oranges and pinks. They were on their way back from the shop, carrying bags of bread and junk food. There was a light breeze ghosting over them both, ruffling their hair and tinging their cheeks red. Everything just felt right.

“I have a new crush,” said Matteo suddenly, which had David looking over at him knowingly.

He could feel a whole swarm of nervous butterflies in his stomach now as he looked back, trying to seem challenging. The streetlamps above their heads flooded the footpath with a warm glow, and it only served to make David even more beautiful than he normally was.

“Oh yeah?” came the teasing response.

Matteo ducked his head bashfully, feeling his face getting redder by the second. David had to be the only person who could Matteo Florenzi feel shy.

“Yeah. There’s this boy...I’ve known him for a while.”

David was smiling wide now as they continued to walk, and Matteo could feel his heart racing. It felt as though everything - all of the heated glances, the touches, the flirty exchanges - had been building up to this point. The point at which one of them would crack and finally say something.

Matteo had definitely cracked.

“Do I know him?” David asked teasingly, his glances and Matteo progressively lingering for longer.

Matteo was smiling too now. “You might. He has dark hair...he likes one direction...he’s a bit of an asshole-”

“Hey!” David accused, and Matteo couldn’t help but laugh. “I only like one song!”

“Tell that to the fucking poster in your closet!”

It was David’s turn to laugh now, and as Matteo looked over at him he could feel the urge to grab this idiot’s face and kiss him until he couldn’t breathe growing stronger.

David’s laughter died down after a few moments. He looked over at Matteo, clearly understanding what the boy was thinking. He had known him for 4 years now, and he had pretty much become an expert in deciphering what every single one of his facial expressions meant. It was admittedly a nuisance sometimes, but Matteo really wouldn’t have it any other way.

When Matteo suddenly came to a halt, stopping right underneath a streetlamp, David did too. David’s eyes were shining with the same confidence that had pulled them together in the first place. He wasn’t hesitant at all; he was simply waiting for Matteo. And Matteo was completely done with holding back.

He stepped forward then, right into David’s space, and the boy gently set down the bags he was holding. There were a few cars zooming by, and the air around them was cold, and Matteo was feeling overwhelmed in the best way possible.

After years of repressing everything he felt, after years of hopelessly pining after his friend, he was about to kiss the boy he liked. After crying alone in his room, after coming close so many times it was surreal, he was leaning into David’s space. He was bringing a gentle hand up to cup the side of his face.

“It’s you,” he mumbled. “It’s been you for two years now.”

”I sure hope so,” David laughed quietly, which had Matteo rolling his eyes and closing the gap between them, bringing their lips together in a gentle kiss. He drew back slightly, before smiling and leaning back in, pressing his lips firmly against David’s this time. David trailed his hands up Matteo’s sides to hang loosely around his neck, pulling him in as close as possible, trying his hardest not to smile too wide. His lips were just as soft as he had imagined, a warm and welcome contrast to the air around them, still sweet from the lollies they’d had earlier. It was David; warm, comforting, inviting, and he was honestly kind of mad at himself for not kissing him sooner because oh man was it good.

“I like you too,” David mumbled between kisses, and it was impossible for Matteo not to smile at that.

Matteo had been waiting for this moment for what felt like the longest time imaginable, but he was unbelievably happy to finally be living in it.