#i swear one day i'll be able to write the end of chapters

[yuna542]

Connected (OT8 x reader)

Part 1

Pairing: 3Racha x reader

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff

Warnings: 18+, Suggestive Themes, Swearing

Word Count: 3.3k

Note: That‘s the first chapter of a series, I‘m writing. It‘s my first time on tumblr… So I‘m a bit confused 0.0

On your first day of your new job as the personal manager of Stray Kids, you didn't expect to be standing in front of the man you made out with last night in a club. But it soon becomes clear that the Stray Kids don't just want you as their manager.

Will this passionate arrangement end your career?

It was one of those goldfish nights where you felt the need to drift in the waters of ecstasy and then forget everything naughty you had done. As if it had never happened.

Everyone did that when they shut down for an evening and dropped all inhibitions.

You'd go to a club, surrender to the neon lights, the sound of the music, and the alcohol, only to pretend the next day that you'd never danced close with strangers, drunkenly ripped your clothes off, or disappeared into a dark corner with the next best guy.

Tonight was one of those nights.

Your group of friends from university had invited you to go to one of the best and trendiest clubs in town, as they said. You didn't go out partying often, but when you did, you left all your worries at home for one night, and tonight was exactly the night you had something to celebrate.

After years of unsuccessful job hunting, you had finally gotten an acceptance letter.

Tomorrow afternoon would your first day at the new company start. Since you had only been living in Korea for a few months, you didn't know the company, so you were even more surprised when you got an acceptance letter for the job after only three days. It seemed like, they liked your profile so much, that they immediately chose you.

You had experience as a music and media journalist and had worked all over the world. Maybe that was exactly what they wanted.

So, to get rid of the excitement, you had accepted and gone to this club with old friends to have fun.

The bass vibrated in your ears and the lights immediately lulled you into the boisterous atmosphere.

Only after a few minutes you stood at bar and ordered the drinks for everyone. There was a group of seven people and you had lost three rounds of scissors-stone-paper. So now you had to take care of the drinks.

Once you ordered everything from memory and remembered the extra requests, even the bartender was impressed.

While he mixed the drinks, you leaned against the bar and looked towards the table that your friends had meanwhile conquered.

"You were able to memorize all that?", asked someone to your left, who was apparently also waiting for his drink.

"Sure... I have a pretty good memory”, you returned, giving the young man a curt look.

He smiled and that's when the bartender came over and set three drinks out for him.

His dark hair fell into his forehead and you looked at the silver rings on his fingers.

"That makes me jealous. I keep forgetting important things..."

He was cute, you had to admit. Although he was obviously trying to look tough with the tank top and leather jacket, his features were soft and his eyes sparkled like buttons in the spotlight. He was a weird mixture between hot and adorable.

You were served your first drinks and averted your eyes from the odd stranger.

"But I'll definitely remember your face!"

Your eyebrows shot up, as his pickup line was actually quite smooth. You turned back to him and couldn't help but smirk at his expectant look.

That's when you spotted two other guys behind him. They were whispering and giggling like kids while watching their friend. Apparently, he hadn't come to the bar just for the drinks.

"Are you flirting with me?", you asked, leaning back against the counter with a teasing grin.

He tilted his head and the corners of his mouth lifted mischievously. In fact, he was really attractive and you couldn't help but stare at him.

"I don't know... Does it work?”

This time you actually had to laugh.

"I gotta go, but feel free to tell your buddies I'm all over you”, you replied, nodding in the direction of the other two, who couldn't avoid to look over at us unobtrusively.

He glanced over his shoulder briefly and then grabbed his forehead with one hand.

"Those idiots..." he muttered more to himself and then put on an apologetic smile.

So you waved at a couple of your friends to help you with the drinks and carry them to the table.

"See you around”, you said goodbye and he just raised his hand sheepishly.

Back at your table, your friend Aiki grabbed you roughly by the shoulder and shook you.

"That guy at the bar! Were you talking to him?"

Confused at her excitement, you glanced again at the bar, where he was now carrying drinks to his friends.

"Yeah, why? He tried to flirt and obviously failed... Although he's really cute," you said with amusement, swirling the straw in your drink.

“No way!”

Her eyes nearly fell out of her head and you still didn't understand.

"What's so special about him?"

"I'm pretty sure that's Han", she explained, as if you had the slightest idea who she was talking about.

When you didn't reply, she said:

"Han Jisung! He is a member of this new K-pop band. They won a big survival-Show a few years ago, and everyone's been really into them ever since."

Sometimes you forget that in addition to her job as a journalist in Korea, she also had a fondness for all K-pop bands. She was almost obsessed with them. BTS was the reason she had gotten into the media world in the first place.

You, on the other hand, had only recently returned to Korea. Even though you were born here, you had spent very little time in the country.

The evening took its course and soon the shot glasses were piling up in front of you, the music sounded more and more enticing and eventually you were magically drawn to the dance floor with a few of your friends.

Another passion of you was dancing.

You had even given dance lessons in America to teenagers and young adults your age. You missed dancing here in Korea.

Therefore, it hardly took a second for you to move your body to the music. It was your very own therapy that brought your mind and body back into harmony.

The music flowed through the speakers directly into your blood and with the alcohol, any inhibitions fell away. Soon you lost your girlfriends somewhere among the people and danced alone. You didn't mind, but that's when you felt someone approaching from behind.

"Don't be startled", a soft voice murmured, and you looked over your shoulder into a frighteningly beautiful face.

Torn from your movement, you stumbled against his chest and he placed a hand firmly on your hip to keep you from losing your balance.

Astonished you turned around completely and the man looked as if he already regretted having approached you. He ran his hand through his dark hair and his biceps stood out.

He was wearing a simple shirt with a denim jacket and the broad shoulders and shy smile didn't quite want to match.

"My friend didn't mean to scare you away earlier. If he said something stupid, I'm really sorry."

That's when you finally recognized him. He was one of that K-pop-Han's friends.

"His pick-up line actually wasn't that bad", you admitted, brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

In front of his broad shoulders, you suddenly felt small.

Now he looked genuinely surprised.

"Oh... Okay. Do you want to maybe have a drink with us? He could apologise and you seem a little lost all by yourself."

Judging by his engaging aura, maybe he was also part of that band you had never heard of. However, you highly doubted it. Idols were not that friendly. In all the interviews you had done with K-pop bands, the members had always been reserved and cold.

The man in front of you, on the other hand, radiated warmth and his eyes reflected a gentleness that contrasted completely with his massive appearance.

You nodded, after all you didn't feel like looking for your friends. You might as well use the time to meet new people. And the guy made you really curious.

Relieved, he exhaled loudly and let you walk ahead. He led you to a sitting area, where black sofas stood. There you already discovered the guy from the bar, who was talking to the third person.

When he spotted you,he fell silent and looked at you as if he had been hit by a punch.

"I'm Chan, by the way”, the man next to you introduced himself and gave you a soft smile.

"My name is Y/N”, you introduced yourself as well. He smiled broadly and you could only stare at his dimples for a moment.

As you got to the others, his buddy now looked to you and immediately grinned like an idiot.

If Chan was broadly built, this guy was a wall. He wore a tight black shirt under which his defined muscles were very present and the sleeves were so tight around his upper arms that you feared they would burst at any moment.

But he was also unusually attractive. There was something about them all that made it impossible to look away.

"Guys, this is Y/N”, Chan introduced you, and the muscleman stood up to bow curtly.

"I'm Changbin. So our Hannie didn't scare you away too much?"

Said Hannie was still sitting frozen on the sofa, looking at you as if you had flown across the room on a unicorn.

"No, he was actually quite charming. A little awkward, but nice”, you replied with amusement, glaring at him.

"You hear that? She didn't think it was as terrible as it looked from here."

Changbin patted his friend on the shoulder with a chuckling laugh, and he just puckered his mouth in embarrassment.

Then suddenly Chan was standing next to you again with two drinks in his hands. You hadn't even noticed he was gone.

"I didn't know what you wanted, so now I just got a strawberry margarita and a caipirinha. Have whatever you want! I'll have the other one then."

Surprised by his kindness, you blinked at him a bit surprised. Never had a guy been so accommodating in a bar.

"I'll have the margarita. Thank you.”

You sat down and ended up between Jisung and Chan. It wasn't long before Han had regained his confidence back and you were toasting, chatting, and you completely lost track of time.

The guys were really friendly and even though you were the only woman, you didn't feel the least bit uncomfortable in their presence. You even felt quite safe, which was naive considering that you had met them only a few hours ago.

But the alcohol helped to throw all worries overboard.

"I've seen you dance.... Do you do it professionally?", Chan asked, and you felt his thigh brush yours.

Restlessly, you tugged at the hem of your black dress. It reached your thighs and nestled comfortably against your body. Han looked at your legs and cleavage when he thought you wouldn't notice.

Chan, on the other hand looked so deeply into your eyes that you feared he could read your mind.

"I'm a dance teacher. But it's just a hobby."

Changbin leaned forward with interest and nodded.

"What do you do for a living?", asked Han now, and you tried to ignore Chan's hand resting on his thigh, almost touching your leg.

"I'm a music journalist. In fact, I moved back to Korea because I got a job here."

"That sounds exciting!" said Chan, his knuckles seemingly inadvertently brushing you bare skin. Your foggy mind immediately wondered what he would look like without the tank top.

Before you got even more lost in his eyes, you asked:

"And you guys? How do you know each other?"

"We were trained together and we also work together now”, Changbin began, and you noticed the warning looks from the other two.

"So you're self-employed?", you probed further.

Maybe your friend had been mistaken and they weren't in a band at all. Chan nodded quickly before Jisung could open his mouth.

"Yeah right. Us and some friends developed our own brand."

"Sounds cool”, you replied, as the alcohol gradually drove you away from the conversation. You were finding it harder and harder to focus between the men.

So you asked: "Are you guys coming to the dance floor?" You had to do something to get away from Chans teasing hands, Jisungs sweet glares and Changbins biceps.

Han pouted and shook his head.

"I'm going to stay here. Unfortunately, I hurt my foot and need to take it easy."

He really looked like he wanted to sprint out onto the dance floor but couldn't.

"I'll stay with Hannie”, Changbin said, leaning back on the sofa.

"Just the two of us, then", you said to Chan.

Before he could talk back, you pulled him to his feet by his arm and dragged him toward the dance floor.Once there, you turned to him and began to move automatically to the beat of the music.

The alcohol made all the people, the music and the lights melt into one mass and before you understood it, you were dancing pressed tightly against Chan.

At first he was timid, as if he was afraid to touch you, but gradually he became bolder. He also moved smoothly. Controlled and conscious.

Like a dancer.

"You can dance?", you asked amused, wrapping your arms around his neck. He laughed sheepishly and put his hands on your waist.

"A little”, he replied close to your ear so you could hear him over the loud music. Up close, his lips looked even more enticing and you wondered if they tasted as sweet as they looked. His eyes were now roaming up and down your face as well.

You turned and leaned back against his chest and pressed your ass agains his body. A knowing grin spread across your face as you felt his fingers digging harder into your sides as you rolled your hips against his.

He moved with you and with every little touch, the air charged electrically. You were insanely hot and his shirt was also sticking to his body by now. You grinded your ass harder against him and he immediately had to gasp right at your ear.

That's when he quickly turned you around so that you bounced against his chest.

"What are you doing?" he murmured in your ear and you let your fingertips trail over his chest.

"Nothing...", you replied, looking at him through your long lashes. The corners of his mouth slowly lifted and he began to get into the game, letting his hands wander down your back until they were firmly pressed against your ass.

The alcohol breathed carelessness and desire into the two of you.

His lips hovered in front of yours and suddenly you didn't hear the music anymore. His hot breath bounced against your lips and that's when he started spreading kisses on your neck. Overwhelmed by the sudden tension on your skin, you curled your fingers into his shirt.

His lips brushed over your skin as light as a feather, down to your collarbone and finally to your cleavage.

He looked up at you, and the same heat that tightened into a ball in your stomach was reflected in his eyes.

Without thinking any further, you grabbed his hand and pulled him off the dance floor. As soon as you were a little off to the side, in a corner that was dimly lit, you felt his hands on your waist.

Stormily, he pressed you against the wall and that's when his lips finally collided with yours.

That embarrassed, charming boy from before was gone. In its place had come a passionate and wild tornado that swept you helplessly along with it.

His lips moved hard against yours as you buried your hands in his hair.

His broad shoulders shielded you from the rest of the club, and your heart beat so loudly it felt like it wanted to jump out of your chest.

His hands were everywhere, exploring your body, every curve and every patch of skin not covered by fabric.

For a moment, he broke the kiss so you could both catch your breath. His forehead was pressed firmly against yours and there he was grinning again as sheepishly as before.

You were breathing heavily and he shook his head slightly.

"I don't usually do this", he muttered and that's when your eyes met.

"Yeah, me neither", you replied.

That was the truth.

It took a long time for someone to pique your interest, and you usually didn't let people get to you that easily.

But with Chan, suddenly this heat was flowing in your veins and you couldn't turn off the desire even if you tried.

"Actually, I wanted to help Jisung.... I'm a horrible wing man."

"Yeah that's right. Your pretty bad…”

As if he actually had a guilty conscience, he pressed his lips together.

That made you laugh and you had to put your hand over your mouth as he eyed you with those dark eyes.

"Do you regret it?", you asked after a short silence.

Directly, he shook his head.

"No. Definitely not. You're stunning."

That did bring a blush to your cheeks.

Not wanting him to see how much his words flattered you, you pulled him closer again and kissed him intensely.

He pressed you against him until you felt his bulge clearly against your already soaked cunt.

"I want to fuck you right now”, he growled with a deep voice, that turned you even more on.

An excited moan escaped you and you rolled your hips harder against his growing bulge. It would have been easy to push your panties aside and free his dick so he could fuck you in the dark corner against the wall like a slut.

Your head was spinning and you wanted to tear his shirt off his body here and now. But the wild smooching quickly found its end when a voice sounded behind Chan.

"I really don't want to disturb you, but we have to go, Chan!"

He merely released his lips from yours and hung his head, not releasing you from his grip. His hands gripped even harder into your hips.

"Already?"

Changbin had a big grin on his face and you stared at the floor.

"Yeah... You know what's coming up tomorrow. And Han had way to much drinks."

There was a certain professionalism returning to Chans body as he heard about his friend.

"Hannie is already waiting in the cab. Hurry up!"

Chan nodded, then Changbin turned to you again.

"It was nice meeting you."

With that, he awkwardly said goodbye and left.

"I'm so sorry, but I really have to go", Chan said, as if he needed to justify himself, and you suppressed a disappointed sigh.

Instead, you simply nodded. It was getting late for you to go home as well. After all, you had your first day of work tomorrow.

And so the mysterious charming man disappeared and you remembered much too late that you hadn't asked him for his number.

--

The two rappers raised their eyes as their friend finally got into the car. After they drove off, Han asked while rubbing his eyes with one hand:

"What took you so long? We were supposed to be back at the dorm by now. We have a busy schedule tomorrow..."

Chan swallowed and was glad he was sitting in front of his friends and didn't have to face them. So they couldn't see that he was stained red up to his ears. With his arm he tried to hide his erection that won’t get soon if this girl won’t stop to ghost around his head.

He knew that tonight had been a big risk. If someone had recognized him and taken pictures of him with the young woman, he would have been screwed. He didn't know himself what had come over him.

"Hyung?", Han tried again, sounding annoyed. There was silence for a few minutes until Changbin couldn't take it anymore and it just burst out of him.

"I just caught Chan making out wildly with that girl."

The oldest whirled around in his seat despite his seatbelt and stared at Changbin. But Han looked surprised, not angry.

"Really?" he asked, and that's when one corner of his mouth began to lift.

"We just kissed for a second", he justified himself, and Changbin couldn't help but laugh.

"From what I saw, it was a miracle you were still wearing clothes at all. You almost fucked her right next to the dance floor."

Chan lashed out, but couldn't reach Changbin in the back and hit the air. This now made Jisung laugh as well, and they continued to tease him all the way to their apartment, where the rest of the Stray Kids were sleeping.

But in the next morning all of them knew the story of their leader fiercely making out with a hot girl at the club and did not stop teasing him.

-> Part 2

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© Yuna542 — 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

broken trust. [epilogue] l Joel Miller

Summary:  you used to be very close, but he broke your heart, now your paths have crossed again

Warnings: +18, angst, smut, swearing, crying, unprotected sex (don't do that), unplanned pregnancy

A/N: this is the last chapter of this story. i wanted to thank you all for this journey. i didn't think i'd be able to finish it… but it was nice to write for these couple of wonderful people who always left some mark. you're amazing! i apologize for all the mistakes and shortcomings. I hope you will spend a few nice minutes reading my scribbles. a few people mentioned tagging - @vickie5446 @dreamtofus @missladym1981 @hiroikegawa 🖤 

[PART 5]

"Now you slowly release the clutch and press the accelerator. Slowly... Slowly..." the whole car shook several times "Ellie, calm down... It's nothing. You just have to..."

The car shook again and the engine stalled. A wailing groan escaped the girl's throat as she let go of the steering wheel.

"I'll never learn this." she sighed.

"Don't say that. You're doing really well."

"Really well?!" she repeated after you, and you wanted to laugh seeing her face "This fucking car has probably turned off a thousand times!"

"So what. Maybe if it turns off a few more times, you'll finally learn?" you lightly nudged her in the shoulder "Ellie, it's not the end of the world. Let's try again."

You had been sitting in this car for almost two hours. Ellie was getting angry the whole time, but she didn't give up. Finally, after a few more failures, the car slowly moved forward.

"Yes! Fuck, I did it! I did it!" she shouted in delight "See that? See that?"

"I see! You're doing great." you laughed "Now try to slow down and stop. Slowly... Ellie, don't kill Joel. Please!"

The car stopped suddenly and the girl turned off the engine. Happiness was written all over her face.

"Can we do this again tomorrow?" she asked excitedly.

"No problem." you replied and turned around as the door on your side opened "Oh! Hi, Joel. Are you back already?"

"Yeah, just a second ago." he glanced at you carefully and then his gaze moved to Ellie "You were supposed to watch her." he said seriously, although you could see the smile hiding in his eyes "Admit it, it was Y/N who talked you into taking her out of town."

"At this speed we'd make it to the gate in a week." the girl replied "And I keep an eye on her all the time! She's right next to me."

"I only left you for two days..." Joel sighed, but now he smiled "How are you feeling?"

"Good. Really!" you laughed seeing his look "I can't stay home all the time."

"But  you should. Come on, we need to change your bandage."

He offered you his hand to help you out of the car and slowly led you home.

Doc didn't want you to leave the clinic too soon, but you insisted. It wasn't until Joel suggested that you could live with him and Ellie for a while that they could keep an eye on you. You knew that Ellie felt guilty about what had happened, and Joel would feel calmer if you were close. So you agreed.

You moved into a small bedroom upstairs and within two weeks you really got into the place. Joel and Ellie didn't let you do anything for the first few days, and at least one of them was always home with you.

With some difficulty you convinced Joel that he didn't have to carry you up the stairs, you'd just walk really slowly. Then Ellie said that his old spine wouldn't last that long anyway, and you tried not to burst out laughing.

What was between you and Joel had calmed down too. You both felt like you were living in your own little bubble and you were fine with that. You saw him smile more often, and it melted your heart every time.

How could you know that his heart grew when he could go back home, where he knew you were. That was enough for him.

"You should take better care of yourself." he stated as you laid down on the bed and pulled up your shirt. "You still have stitches."

"I feel really good, Joel. You have no reason to worry." you replied, watching as he disappeared into the bathroom to wash his hands, and then returned to you with a small box prepared by Doc. "How was your patrol?"

"Quite normal. A bit boring." He replied, pulling up a stool and sitting next to the bed. "Did Ellie finally manage to start the engine?"

"Yeah, but she shook my soul out of me." You laughed. "She really wants to impress you, you know."

"She doesn't have to do that. But I'm glad you two get along so well."

His warm fingers slowly removed the dressing from your body and you both glanced at the healing spot. The skin was still slightly red, but the wound was fresh, so it didn't worry you.

"You were bleeding a little." Joel noticed, showing you a few spots of blood on the dressing.

"The stitches are pulling. I can't wait for Doc to take them out."

"Maybe you should have them a little longer?" he suggested, washing your wound and gently drying it with a clean towel.

"I suppose you think I should stay in bed until Ellie is of age." you stated and he smiled as he put a fresh bandage on you "I don't know what else I should do to make you believe that I'm out of danger.”

"Just be reasonable."

"Reasonable is my middle name."

Maybe you shouldn't have, but you really enjoyed your moments together. When he first touched you to change your dressing, it was almost intimate. It wasn't until a while later that you were both able to act more freely, and Joel made sure he wasn't hurting you.

For him, it was a nice feeling to have you under his roof. He missed what you used to have, but if what was now was all he could get - he had no intention of giving it up. Even though you were sleeping in the other room, you were alive, you were close to him, he could hear you.

You ate meals together, spent evenings together. You didn't flinch at his accidental touch, and it even happened a few times that when you entered the kitchen you stroked his back, Joel closed his eyes then because of this tender gesture.

He missed you even though you were right next to him. He missed being close to you, missed the warmth of your body. But he only had these few moments that were going to be taken away from him anyway.

It was getting quite cold and the sun was setting really early when you returned home smiling, although a little bit frozen. Ellie was curled up on the couch reading a comic book while Joel was adding wood to the fire when you stood in front of them and lifted your shirt to show your freshly healed scar.

"Doc took the stitches out!" you announced excitedly. "I should still be careful, but he says everything is okay now."

"Cool!" Ellie's face lit up. "How many scars do you have?"

"She should have as few as possible." Joel mumbled, glancing at the healed area from the surgery.

"I have two other pieces of news." you announced, sitting down in the armchair and smiling at them like you just won the lottery. "Since everything is okay, I'll go back to my place tomorrow. You can rest from me."

"No!" Ellie groaned. "And the second one?"

"I met Tommy. He said that since Doc doesn't see any contraindications, I'll be able to go back to my old activities soon."

Joel stood up. You noticed right away that he wasn't in the best of moods.

"I don't think you should come back so soon." he mumbled. "You shouldn't take risks."

"Joel, Doc says she's fine!" Ellie pointed out.

"Maybe, but she almost bled out on my hands. I don't want to risk that again."

Silence fell. The atmosphere became tense in an instant. All the joy you brought with you escaped like air from a burst balloon.

Joel avoided your gaze, but took a defensive stance.

"Ellie, can you go to Doc?" you finally said. "He said he could use your help. They brought him some supplies yesterday."

"Yeah, sure." The girl nodded, standing up and quickly putting on her jacket. "Just don't kill each other here." she mumbled and left, slamming the door.

You rested your elbows on your knees and intertwined your fingers, sighing quietly.

"Joel, you knew perfectly well that I wouldn't stay here forever." You began calmly, trying to choose your words carefully. "All of this was for a moment. Until I feel better. That was what you said."

"I just don't think you should go back to your duties yet. It's not safe for you." He replied, resting his hands on his hips and looking down at you.

"You can't watch over me all the time, Joel!" You groaned, getting up from your chair. "You have some kind of…obsession..."

"Obsession?!" He interrupted you mockingly.

"Yes! You can't control everything. You can't protect everyone. You know perfectly well that I can handle it."

"You almost died last time!" He growled.

"I'll die someday anyway, Joel. You can't save everyone..." You approached him and wanted to put your hand on his shoulder, but he stepped back. "I'm sorry."

You passed him and headed towards the stairs. You wanted to pack your things so you could leave their house the next day. You only regretted that the atmosphere had gone sour so quickly.

You were already halfway up the stairs when Joel's loud voice reached your ears.

"I love you." He said, his voice trembling. You saw that his eyes were shining in the warm glow of the fireplace, he was truly moved. "I've loved you for years. I should have told you in Boston, but I was afraid. I was too selfish, Y/N. I thought I wanted you to be safe, but what I really wanted was to have you all to myself. I wanted to hide you from the whole world like some fucking treasure. When I lost you, everything lost its meaning. I was alone again. It fucking scared me."

You swallowed hard, feeling your throat tighten painfully. Joel took a few steps towards the stairs.

"After all this time, I met you again. I don't know what I should do to atone for what I did to you, babe." he continued, and tears welled up in your eyes. "I almost lost you twice. I can't take it anymore... I love you. I love you so much it hurts. If you want to leave, I won't stop you. I can only promise you that as long as I live, I will fight to keep you safe." 

You didn't have time to answer. You opened your mouth, but Joel stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him. Tears ran down your cheeks.

He felt empty inside. Everything that had filled him for the past few weeks had simply fled. It was as if someone had woken him from a deep sleep by pouring a bucket of cold water over his head.

He was afraid again. He felt that his hands were shaking slightly, so he pressed them harder into his jacket pockets. He already regretted telling you what he felt, but at the same time he was grateful that he had finally managed to get it all out.

He had never told you that he often woke up at night, because he dreamed about that night when you were injured, it still kept appearing before his eyes. He could still see your blood on his hands, he could still hear your weak voice.

Over all these years, Joel had forgotten what it was like to love. Love only reminded him of the pain of loss, and he didn't want to experience that again.

And then you appeared and became his everything. He had someone close to him again. And Joel was hungry for another person, closeness, intimacy, even love. When you slept next to him, he would often stare at you for hours. He knew your moves, knew your routines. Maybe you didn't even know it, but you had created a semblance of home with him then. He never dared to tell you that.

The last few weeks have been really good. And now he was going to lose it all again? How much more loss did he have to experience in this miserable life...

You couldn't sleep. You lay in bed and listened to the sounds in the house. Ellie appeared only for a moment, saying something about spending the night at a friend's house, and then she left again. You suspected that she sensed the nervous atmosphere and didn't want to stand between you and Joel.

He hadn't appeared until now. The house was quiet, and the clock quietly ticked off the minutes. It wasn't until around midnight that you heard familiar footsteps on the stairs and the door closing on the other side of the hallway. You lay there for a while longer.

Joel left you completely shattered, with a jumble of thoughts in your head and tears streaming down your cheeks. You cried for a while longer before you finally changed into your pajamas and laid down in bed.

But you couldn't take it any longer. You quietly left the room and walked barefoot through the cool hallway. Although you put your ear to Joel's bedroom door, you didn't hear anything. So you pressed the handle and slipped inside.

The room was dark, but you easily made your way to his bed.

"Y/N? What are you doing?" his slightly sleepy voice rang out as you got under his covers.

You didn't answer. You moved closer to him. Joel didn't even move. He felt your warm fingers touch his stubbled cheek, the warmth of your body right next to him.

And then you kissed him. For the first time in so long, he felt the taste of your lips again. They were salty from tears, but soft, delicate, just as he remembered. You kissed him slowly and didn't protest when his arms gathered you so that you were lying on his chest.

He wanted more. He slid his tongue into your mouth and deepened the kiss. He caressed you, eliciting the most beautiful sighs he'd heard from you.

"I don't want to hurt you, baby..." he whispered as you stood up and with a swift movement took your sweatshirt over your head.

"I know, Joel..." you replied seeing his eyes shining in the dark "I'm always safe with you."

He stood up and sliding his fingers into your hair pulled you in for another kiss. It was strong and full of longing that had filled his heart for so long. You clung to him feeling how much you missed him too.

Joel's lips slid down your neck kissing then your collarbone and shoulders. Familiar fingers slid down your back and then you felt them find the scar on your side. He sighed quietly feeling the length of your wound under his fingertips.

"I'm fine." you assured him kissing his temple.

His hand slid lower. In the dim light from outside he could see a new scar, a trace from when you almost died.

"I love you so much, Y/N..." he whispered "And it scares me..."

"I know, I know..." you took his face in your hands and found his gaze "I'm scared too, but I love you and it gives me strength." his eyes gazed at you tenderly "Yes, I love you. I've loved you for a long time, even though I wanted to forget about it. But I don't want to go back to how it was when all we have is this moment. Make love to me, Joel. I want to feel you again..."

In an instant, he flipped you over onto your back, trapping you between his arms. Your lips collided again. You managed to take his shirt off and soon your hands could touch the body they knew so well.

He was yours. In that moment, you felt it completely. When he kissed your breasts, and his lips hungrily closed on your nipples, you felt the excitement growing between your legs. It was so familiar, and yet so new.

You were different people now, so this was different too.

You lifted your hips slightly as he took off your panties, kissing your thigh tenderly. His hands caressed your body, touching every spot that drew sweet sighs and moans from you.

When you noticed that his gaze had once again wandered to your scars, you helped him find his way back.

"I'm here, baby. I'm with you." You said quietly, touching his face and directing his face towards you.

His fingers slid over your juice-covered folds. Your body recognized him, his touch, his closeness. It was eager to feel him inside too.

"Tell me you want me..." he whispered as he slid down his pants and his hard manhood popped out of them.

"I want you, Joel. I always have and I always will."

"I need to be inside you, baby. Then I'll let you come on my fingers, on my lips, but first..."

"That's fine, baby. I'm in no hurry."

A faint smile appeared on his face. He grabbed his cock and ran the tip over your entrance a few times. When he pushed in slowly, you closed your eyes, moaning softly with pleasure at how well he stretched your walls. He pushed all the way in and Joel lay on top of you, hiding his face in that sweet spot by your collarbone.

"Fuck, amazing..." he groaned "I've missed this feeling. You squeeze me so good, baby."

"Move, please... I need you..."

When he moved for the first time, you already knew you were over the edge. His cock moved inside you slowly. Joel knew your body perfectly, he knew just how to hit you to make you let out all those moans he loved so much.

And he used that knowledge, you were falling apart under him into a thousand pieces. Your nails dug into his shoulders, but he didn't even feel the pain. All that mattered was you and that moment.

"I can't hold out much longer, baby..." he panted, thrusting into you harder and faster. "I haven't had you for so long..."

"I'm close... so close..."

He rose, threw your legs over his shoulders, and began to pound into you harder and harder. In an instant, your whole body trembled as you reached your peak. Joel groaned as he felt your walls tighten around his cock. He thrust a few more times, then pulled out, spilling himself onto your lower abdomen with a loud moan.

"Oh, fuck! Sweet Jesus..."

You were both panting heavily, but you couldn't tear your eyes away from each other. He didn't have time to react when you unexpectedly sat up, grabbed his neck and pulled him closer, stealing his breath from his lips.

"I love you..." you whispered "I love you so much..."

A few months later.

"Do you miss this?"

"What do you mean?"

Ellie glanced at you from behind the book she was reading and widened her teeth.

"You know what I mean." she replied "Patrols, searching for supplies, shooting..."

"I definitely don't miss that last one." you laughed, but then hissed quietly as you stuck the needle in your finger "Fuck! I'm not cut out for this!"

"You have to be patient. You told me the same thing when I was learning to drive, remember?"

"Too good." you mumbled sucking on your aching finger "It'll take me forever to sew these buttons on."

The door slammed and you both raised your heads. Joel entered the house bringing with him the smell of freshly sanded wood. He smiled at the sight of you.

"Finally!" Ellie jumped up from her armchair "I was supposed to meet up with my friends, and you don't seem to remember how watches work."

"Sorry, kid. Tommy wanted to talk." Joel replied, walking up to you and kissing the top of your head "Go, if you have to."

The door slammed shut immediately and you were left alone. Joel plopped down on the couch next to you, his large hand resting on your rounded belly. He smiled when he felt a gentle kick.

"You're getting bigger." he noticed.

"Fuck, Joel!" you laughed, putting the material and the needle aside "You saw me a few hours ago. I don't grow that fast."

"You just think so."

You shook your head in disbelief. "I think you and Ellie decided to tease me throughout the entire pregnancy. Don't deny it! This morning she asked me if I could still reach the kitchen counter."

"And you can?"

You nudged him hard in the side. "Asshole!"

The news of the pregnancy came to you unexpectedly. Joel still remembered your terrified look when you sat down in front of him and showed him the pregnancy test you brought from the clinic. Your period was already five weeks late, but you didn't have the typical pregnancy symptoms.

You stared at the positive result without saying a word for a long moment, afraid of each other's reactions. Finally, Joel spoke first.

"Do you want to keep it?"

"I don't know, Joel. My mind is blank..."

And then tears rolled down your cheeks. He held you in his arms, and you cried and apologized to him as if this pregnancy was your fault. 

That night you talked about all the possibilities, all the scenarios. You both knew that bringing a child into such a fucked up world was the height of selfishness, but you couldn't make any decisions.

When you fell asleep at dawn, he stared at you for a long time, thinking about it all.

You were his everything. After that night together, you didn't leave his house, but even moved into his bedroom. Joel felt complete, for the first time in many years. After many conversations, you found compromises that satisfied you both and decided to try everything again.

And now - pregnancy. 

He didn't wonder when it could happen, it didn't matter. What mattered was you. If you told him you didn't want this child, he wouldn't protest. But you weren't sure about anything...

However, when you stretched in bed in the morning, mumbling a quiet "Good morning", Joel Miller already knew what he should say.

"Whatever you decide, I'll be there for you. If you want this baby, I'm all in. And you need to know that I'll do everything I can to keep you and the baby safe. I love you, Y/N, no matter what."

He finally felt like he was in the right place. He wanted everything with you - a home, a family, a future. He was finally thinking beyond tomorrow and he loved it.

"I think it's going to be a girl." he said, watching you get up from the couch to make yourself some tea.

"Really? Why do you think that?" you laughed, pouring water into the kettle.

"Just a hunch."

"Uhm. I like it."

"And I like you."

You smiled, and Joel thought that this was what heaven should look like.

Just like you.

the end.

☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[allmoshnobrain]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫: 𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 03 of 06 | masterpost

word count: 4,7k | ao3 link | fic's playlist

"C’mere," he whispered, and I nodded quickly, sitting beside him on the couch. I sighed, glancing down at my hands, fidgeting nervously with my fingers. With him right there, I was all over the place, unsure of what to do with myself. My heart fluttered when he reached out, placing his hand on mine, and I felt my cheeks flush as I looked up and noticed just how close he was. "You wanted to chat, right?"

✦ on this chapter: james hetfield x female!oc, dave mustaine x female!oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, angst, grief, pov change

✦ a/n: New chapter's here! First of all, I might not be able to update the next part on Monday. I'm halfway through writing it, but my days have been crazy busy, so it might take me a bit longer to wrap it up. But I swear, as soon as it's ready, I'll get it posted! This chapter is really special to me because we're diving into Dave's POV; I put a lot of heart into capturing his feelings just right, so I hope you guys like it. Feedback is welcome, thanks for reading! 🖤

✧ In terms of love, sunflowers symbolize pure and steadfast love, like Clytie who constantly gazed at Apollo. Therefore, giving someone a sunflower means telling them: “my love for you will be constant, and unchanged, like how the sunflower always faces the sun”. ✧

February 20, 1992

I sighed nervously, wringing my hands as I paced back and forth in my home's living room. After getting back in touch with Dave, we’d decided to meet up and have a chat about everything — the past, the present, and maybe the future. I didn't know what to make of his sudden reappearance in my life, unsure how it might shake up all the delicate balance I'd been trying to maintain lately. I’d left a message on James' voicemail the day before, filling him in on our reunion and our plans to catch up. Figured James should hear it straight from me, especially since he was the one who helped me hunt down Dave back in the day, spending months on end trying to track him down.

Now, though, it wasn't James occupying my thoughts, but Dave. I studied myself in the mirror; decked out in a cute dress, my cheeks flushed, my eyes gleaming with anticipation like they hadn't in ages. I'd even indulged in a touch of red lipstick, which now seemed a bit too much as I battled my nerves. Did I really care that much about whether he found me pretty?

I felt kind of silly, to be honest. But deep down, I knew I wanted to see him. I wanted to hear his voice again. Our call the day before had been brief, just a few hesitant words passing between us before I realized that talking on the phone wasn't cutting it. I needed to see him face-to-face, even if it was just to put a final chapter on our story once and for all.

I couldn't help but gasp with surprise when the doorbell chimed, my heart leaping into overdrive as a blush crept up my cheeks. Rushing to the door, I swung it open, my smile widening as I met Dave's gaze, a bouquet of sunflowers in his hands. He didn't even seem real, a vision straight out of a dream, his ginger hair catching the sunlight, his eyes filled with a mix of anticipation and apprehension. It was everything I’d ever wanted, seeing him again like this, as if all my dreams were being handed to me on a silver platter.

"You’re here," I murmured dumbly, which earned a soft chuckle from him.

"Hey. Of course I am," he said, handing me the bouquet of sunflowers. I blushed as I accepted them, a delighted grin stubbornly forming on my lips. "These are for you."

"Oh, thanks, Dave," I replied, trying to contain the urge to throw myself into his arms right then and there. It seemed Dave was grappling with a similar hesitation; he reached out, lifting my chin, his thumb tracing my cheek. I sighed, feeling my heart kick up a notch. "So... you wanna come in?"

We stepped into my place; Dave plopped down on one of the couches in the living room while I scurried off to find a vase for the flowers. I rummaged through the kitchen cabinets and found one, filling it with water in a hurry. Carrying it back to the living room, I set it on a small table near the window. Turning back to Dave, I caught his calm smile, feeling the weight of all the unsaid words hanging in the air between us.

"C’mere," he whispered, and I nodded quickly, sitting beside him on the couch. I sighed, glancing down at my hands, fidgeting nervously with my fingers. With him right there, I was all over the place, unsure of what to do with myself. My heart fluttered when he reached out, placing his hand on mine, and I felt my cheeks flush as I looked up and noticed just how close he was. "You wanted to chat, right?"

"I... Yeah," I murmured, then sighed, trying to calm myself. "Dave... Last time we were together... The day you ended things with me..." I hesitated, seeing a storm of sadness and hurt stirring in his eyes, but he gave my hand a reassuring squeeze, urging me to continue. "That day... it was a mess. Most of it was my fault, but... I swear, Dave, I didn't cheat on you with James. I..." I struggled to keep going, feeling the weight of old wounds reopening, tears threatening to spill over and choking my voice. "Please," I finally choked out, my voice barely above a whisper. "Please, believe me. I can explain everything, I..."

I couldn’t keep talking; suddenly, the doorbell rang. I jumped, glancing nervously at Dave as the sound repeated.

"You should get that," Dave said, offering me a faint smile, though tension still lingered in the air. I nodded anxiously, making my way to the door.

I swung the door open, and there stood James.

"James?" I blinked, tension gripping my body. "What are you..."

"I got your voicemail. Where is he?" he growled, seizing me by the shoulders and shoving me aside before I could answer. Oh no, I thought, trailing after him into the house. He marched in with long, heavy strides, heading straight for the living room where he found Dave, who rose to his feet at the sight of him, a tempest brewing in his hazel eyes. "You!" James bellowed. "What do you think you're doing here?"

"James, chill!" I clutched his arm, meeting his eyes with a mix of exasperation and pleading. "We're just having a conversation. I told you we agreed to talk!"

"So now you have to report every move to him?" Dave shot back, his brow furrowing at me.

"Take a look in the mirror, man. Like you weren't a control freak when you two were together. You think I don't know you guys fought every time Nore wanted to see us?" James snapped, and Dave's jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides.

"I ain't here to chat with you, Hetfield. It's best if you bounce," he growled, his tone carrying a hint of threat. I glanced between James and Dave, my pulse quickening. Oh no, not this again.

James chuckled, dripping with sarcasm.

"Ain't here to chat with you either, Mustaine. But you've got some serious nerve rolling up here after all the crap you pulled. You don't get to waltz back into her life like nothing happened. Like you didn't hurt her."

I gawked at James, my eyes widening in surprise. So, that's why he'd shown up? To defend me? All along, I figured if I crossed paths with Dave again, he'd be stoked for me, b ut clearly, that wasn't the case.

"Funny," Dave shot back, a wry smirk curling his lips. "Real funny, coming from you. Like you and Lars didn't pull the shit you did on me. Like you weren't trying to steal her from me from the start. You reckon I didn't catch the way you looked at her?"

"Well, in the end, I came out on top, didn't I?" James edged closer, his tone dripping with venomous irony. "I got the band, and I got the girl. What about you?"

"James, knock it off!" I interjected, and both of them swung their gazes towards me, as if just remembering I was there. "Did you forget Dave's here 'cause I invited him? I wanted to sort things out with him, alright? Lay off him!"

James arched an eyebrow, clearly taken aback and a bit peeved by my response. I held his gaze, my cheeks flushing under Dave's watchful eyes, but I refused to break eye contact with James, a silent exchange playing out between us. He eventually rolled his eyes and made his way to the door.

"Ugh," I grumbled, frustrated, trailing after him. "James, come on!"

"What the fuck, Nore!" he exclaimed, wheeling around, and I instinctively took a step back. "What the fuck were you thinking, inviting this guy over?"

"I already told you I needed to talk to him! James, he deserves to know the truth. It's not right for him to keep believing I did him dirty like that..."

"That was ages ago. Why's it such a big deal now?"

"Of course it's a big deal! And what you and the guys did, booting him out of the band, matters too. You should at least say you're sorry..."

"Here you go again, sticking up for him like he didn't fuck up," James growled, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes. "Don't you dare roll your eyes at me! All these years, I've done nothing but love and protect you. He fucking left you! He left you high and dry, then went around bad-mouthing you to everyone without even considering your feelings, without even giving you a chance to explain. Did you ever think that you could've set things straight ages ago if he'd stopped to listen? You shouldn't even give him the time of day, Nore."

"James, we were kids ," I said, my voice quieter now , trying to bring some calm to the heated moment, trying to make him understand. "I messed up plenty too. You cheated on your girlfriend to be with me. We're no saints here, okay?"

"Well, if you think this guy is here to just patch things up and be buddies afterwards, you're dead wrong, alright? Dead wrong, and you know it. Bet he's still sore about losing you, because if he's not over getting booted from the band, would he really be over that?"

"And why does that even matter? This isn't about him moving on from me or not, it's about us making things right..."

"Yeah, well, I don’t give a shit about making things right with him."

"And that's the fucking problem!" I exclaimed, frustrated. "There was a time when you'd get why this means so much to me. There was a time when you'd want me to do what makes me happy! So either you were bullshitting me or you've changed so much that you just don't give a damn anymore. Honestly, I don't know which is worse."

James stared at me for a moment, hurt and shock in his gaze, the same old hurt that always resurfaced between us — the hurt of not being able to understand each other anymore. He sighed, rubbing his temples with his fingertips as he closed his eyes.

"What happened between us and him is in the past," he growled. "I don't need to keep going over that, and I sure as hell don't owe him an apology. If you feel like you do... Don't come crying to me when he screws you over again."

"James..." I started, reaching out to grab his hand, but it was too late. He shook his head, pulling away, and stormed off, hopping into his car and slamming the door shut before speeding off. I watched him leave, my heart pounding as tears welled up in my eyes, wondering if I'd ever find a way to make things right with both Dave and James without causing even more hurt along the way.

 ☆

I've never been one to let things slide easily.

Holding onto grudges was kind of my thing. In a world that had kicked me and spat on my face since day one, anger had been my go-to move, sword and shield rolled into one, keeping me safe from the emptiness that always lurked.

Sometimes I'd been pretty good at channeling that anger into something productive, but other times? Well, let's just say it was a rocky ride. It was like walking a tightrope, flirting with self-destruction, and usually, things didn't end well — not for me, and definitely not for the people around me.

Grudges kept me on my toes. They kept me sharp. Couldn't forget, couldn't let myself get fooled again by someone who'd already done me wrong. And I was cool with that, like a ticking time bomb kind of cool, until I thought I found someone who got me. Someone who could put out the flames, show me the softer side of life, the morning sun's warmth instead of the heat of a fire.

She had always been my Achilles' heel.

We were lost children, lost in the haze of our youth, drowning our sorrows in booze, trying to escape everything that hurt us. I started falling for her then, in a simple way, because she was like me, yet she was good. Kind in a way that baffled me, that I couldn't wrap my head around. How could she see so much good in me when I couldn't even see it myself? How could she trust me so completely, with a trust that scared the hell out of me because I wasn't used to that kind of tenderness, that kind of affection?

Before I knew it, my love had turned into devotion. A devotion so deep it mingled with the marrow of my bones, making me stronger and weaker in equal measure. ‘Cause when I lost everything but her, the fear that she might be next only drove us apart.

Eleanore. Eleanore. Nore.

It wasn't a walk in the park to forget her after it all went south. For the longest time, I wanted to forget her, to despise her just like I did with Lars and James for booting me out of Metallica. After some time, it became a piece of cake to act like I didn't give a shit, that I was better off without her, that I was over her and ready to move on, diving into other kisses, other lovers. Drowning myself in whatever substance I could find, anything to drown out the hollow feeling inside.

But without her shining light, I was adrift.

As weeks turned into months and months into years, my fury toward her slowly simmered down enough for me to see that what I felt wasn't anger, but love. A love wounded and raw, twisting my heart in an endless pit. I longed for her, but it was too late; it wasn't rocket science to figure out that she and James were living the dream of a perfect relationship while folks seemed to get a kick out of keeping me posted on every move Metallica made without me. And I tried to sell myself the story that it was for the best; that if she’d left me, it was better for her to be with someone who truly lit up her world. That I wasn't, and had never been, good enough, worthy enough of her love.

And to add insult to injury, it's not like I didn't have my own demons to wrestle with. As the years rolled on, my reliance on any and all substances that could numb me from reality grew worse by the day, until it reached a breaking point. My first go-round in rehab fell short; I found myself making repeat visits to those gloomy facilities more times than I could tally up. And all along, I was just searching for something, anything, to reassure me that I was headed in the right direction. Something that could pull me back from the brink, something that could save me.

And then I found her.

As fleeting as our reunion had been, it was enough to shatter any facade of normalcy I had managed to cobble together. Because deep down, I knew that after laying eyes on her again, I couldn't live with myself if I let the opportunity to reconnect slip through my fingers. It was like her presence had wiped away all the pent-up anger I harbored inside. But beneath that anger lurked pain and fear. After all, hadn't she chosen James over me in the end? How could her reappearance not feel like a mirage, especially when she had once shown me the purest, most sincere form of love, only to snatch it away and make me believe I didn't deserve any of it?

That I didn't deserve her. And that she was worthy of something better.

When she asked to meet up to discuss the past, I couldn't bring myself to refuse. How could I deny her anything? And there I was, the Dave Mustaine, known for my sarcasm, anger, and aggression, completely bending to the whims of a woman. But not just any woman.

Her.

I found myself buying her flowers and eagerly anticipating our meeting like some lovesick teenager. Not because I was after a quick fuck or a girl dazzled by my wealth and fame, but simply because it was her. And God knows how when she was around, it was like everything else faded into the background. I dared to hope that her sudden reappearance in my life, after so much pain, emptiness, and longing, was a sign that good things were on the horizon.

But life's never that simple, is it?

Then James showed up, with his anger, arrogance, and disdain. My heart sank as I watched the intimate exchange between them, even in the midst of a fight. The silent communication in their glances held the weight of years of companionship, two souls deeply entwined on the same journey. And I couldn't help but envy James because he knew a side of her that I no longer did. He had stolen it from me, something I’d lost when I was deceived and betrayed by those I once considered my family.

But as I listened to their argument, and her desperate pleas for him to understand that all she wanted was to make things right and explain herself, I couldn't help but remember one of the things that had made me fall head over heels in love with her in the first place: her unwavering loyalty, always ready to defend those she cared about, the same loyalty that had her standing by my side without a second thought when my world came crashing down. Loyalty. I swear I never cheated on you with James. That's what she’d said, right? And I realized I believed her, but that didn't make things any easier. Because if that was true, then had I truly shut her out of my life, without even giving her a chance to explain herself, all over some stupid misunderstanding?

It wasn't surprising that James was furious with her for still holding onto any hope of patching things up with me. Fuck . I mean, it wasn't like this was anything new, but had I really been that big of an idiot?

I didn't even deserve her to look at me. I should just leave, spare her from my anger, my bitterness, and my mistakes. But how could I when she was right there, her blue eyes shimmering with tears she tried to choke back, so close and so real?

"I'm sorry, Dave," she whispered, her voice shaky. "I didn't know James was gonna barge in here and stir up such a mess, I..." She sighed, seeming lost for words, wrapping her arms around herself, looking so confused and alone that I couldn't resist. Striding over to her, I pulled her into a hug, holding her tight against my chest, hoping against hope that this would be enough for her to grasp everything I was feeling but couldn't put into words. She smelled like cinnamon and cardamom and this unique sweetness that was just her, and it made me ravenous. I buried my face in her hair, one hand gripping the back of her head while the other pulled her closer, and she hugged me back, like she was afraid I'd vanish if she let go, tears streaming down her face. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"You were telling the truth, huh?" I murmured, my heart aching. "You and James... You weren't really together that day?"

"No," she sobbed, her voice heavy with sorrow, and I held her even tighter. "No, we weren't..."

"It's alright. It’s okay, sweetheart," I whispered, the pet name slipping out without me even realizing it, the weight of my mistakes threatening to crush me with regret. I wanted to cry too, but I couldn’t, not now. I had to stay strong for her. "I'm here. Let it out, I'm here."

I held her until her sobs subsided, her breathing slowing down. She pulled back a bit, looking up at me, her face tantalizingly close to mine, and I had to use all my strength not to kiss her right there .

"You don't wanna chase after James?" I questioned, trying to hide the distress in my voice. She shook her head, looking like she might burst into tears again any second.

"No, not right now. It'd just make everything worse. We'd end up arguing more,” she whispered, her cheeks damp from her tears. “He's angry, Dave. And he's been holding onto that anger for ages, and I don't know how to help him..."

"Hey, it's alright. You'll figure it out, I'm sure."

"We weren't together. I mean, that day," she started, breaking away from my embrace and heading to the couch, where she took a seat. I took a seat too, unable to stand even a moment apart from her. "I knew James had feelings for me. I knew because he'd kissed me once, out of the blue, and I knew I couldn't keep ignoring the way he felt."

She paused, and I nodded, pushing down the surge of jealousy and anger bubbling up inside me.

"I… I liked him too. But I loved you. I was so, so in love with you. And I’d chosen you . I would always, always, always have chosen you. That day, running into him was just a total coincidence. I didn’t even know he was gonna be there. I mean, I get it now, I should've told you everything back then. But honestly, I was scared stiff. Didn't wanna risk pushing you even further away. It was all my fault..."

"No," I cut in, squeezing her hand, small, soft, and warm, in mine. "No. I should've let you explain. You were my girlfriend, after all. I owed you that much, Nore."

"I tried to track you down afterward, you know, to explain myself," she confessed, her voice choked, those pleading blue eyes of hers practically begging for understanding. "But it never quite panned out. And then..."

"And then?" I prodded gently. She glanced away, nibbling on her lower lip, like she was wrestling with the right words. I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, urging her on.

"And then... There was that song."

I let out a rough breath. Mustaine, you fucking idiot. She didn't have to spell it out. I knew exactly which song she meant, a tune born from my anger and bitterness, a misguided attempt at bravado fueled by some foolish hope that she'd hear it and come chasing after me, even if it was just for a fight. But in the end, it only drove Nore farther from me. If there was a prize for boneheaded moves, I'd have been on that podium in a heartbeat.

"And you never bothered to find me," she murmured, her voice laced with hurt, her gaze dropping to her hands, her lower lip trembling just enough to betray her pain. It was like watching a wounded bird, helpless and vulnerable after falling off its nest.

God, how I longed for her to forgive me, even for the sins I had not sinned.

"I tried," I admitted, and she glanced up at me quick, cheeks flushing the sweetest shade of pink, those blue eyes of hers sparkling like they could stop my heart. Why was she happy to hear that? Why was she messing with my head like this? Didn't she love James now? Tears threatened to well up again, the lump in my throat tightening. I couldn't stand this. "I did try. But you were gone. Off touring in Europe with him. And then a year later or so, Cliff pops up at one of my gigs. I asked about you, wanted to see you. But he shut me down," I revealed bitterly. "Told me to get over it. Said you and James were together. That you were in love. So I threw in the towel."

She looked utterly surprised, like it was news to her. After all these years, I'd figured she didn't give a damn. So why the sudden interest? Why act like she didn't know? It felt like she was ripping my heart out all over again. Because, painful as it was to admit, I still loved her. I had never, ever, ever stopped loving her. And now she was back in my life, with those piercing blue eyes and that gentle heart, thinking she could save me, thinking she could fix things. Innocent. Pure. Wasting her heart on the wreck that I was.

And I couldn't even muster the guts to lay it bare — that I was a screw-up. That I was useless, that she oughta go off and be happy with James 'cause she'd never fix what was broken in me. I didn't deserve that. But I wanted it — I wanted to be near her. I was too damn selfish. I wanted her goodness. Her innocence. I needed it to belong to me, and only me, and no one else.

I didn't deserve her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, gripping my hands tight. "I just... I thought you didn't want me around anymore. I didn't know, Dave," she sniffled. Was she crying? She shouldn't be. She hadn't done anything, anything wrong. Maybe I should've pushed harder. Maybe I should've listened. Maybe I should've gone after her, fought for her. But now, it felt too late.

"I should go," I muttered, even though it tore me up inside. "I don't want... You and James, Nore, you two are together..."

"But we're not, " she blurted out. I went still, locked into her blue gaze. Please, don't toy with me like this. "Things with James, Dave... They're complicated. But we're not together. Not like that. We..." Her voice hitched, and all I wanted was to hold her, to never let her go, to never let her cry again. "We're both broken. Cliff's death... It tore us apart."

And there it was. That vulnerability. I'd noticed it, how she seemed fragile now compared to the lively girl I once knew. This was new, and it broke my heart that she’d changed to feel ruined. It crushed me that the happy, determined, kind girl I once knew had become a wounded woman. A woman still grieving, even years after losing the one who'd shaped her world.

And it stung even more that I was such a worthless piece of shit that I felt selfishly relieved to hear she and James were no longer together.

"Please, don't string me along like this," I managed to whisper. She chuckled, her voice trembling, then met my gaze.

"Dave. Would I lie to you about something like this?" she asked, almost sweetly. Oh, this devil of a woman. If only she knew how she had me in the palm of her hand right then. "Please... I don't want you to leave."

"What should I do?" I practically pleaded. Just tell me what to do because I can't take this anymore. I want to hold you. I want to kiss you. I want to—

"Stay with me," she breathed, her fingers weaving through mine. My heart raced, disbelief flooding me. I didn't deserve it, this happiness. I didn't deserve her.

Yet there she was.

Yet she wanted me.

My hand shook as I reached out to touch her face gently. I traced the curve of her lower lip with my thumb, watching as she blushed, her lips parting ever so slightly, anticipation gleaming in her eyes. I pulled her close, my mind racing as much as my heart, and kissed her, our lips moving together, my tongue exploring her mouth eagerly, tasting her like it would be the last time. Because maybe it would. Maybe this was all just a dream, and I would wake up in my cold bed, miserable and stupid and alone without her. 

Because this was too good to be true. That a woman this small could hold this much power over me, over my heart, felt almost like a joke. But there she was. She was beautiful. She was kind. 

And she wanted me.

✧ if you'd like to be tagged on the next parts, let me know and I'll add you to the tag list! ❤ ✧

tag list: @killazilla777 @whatsupvic @70srogah @genswine9 @twice360noscope @ilovepapahet

[gamerbunny1996]

Jock Jschlatt x reader

Chapter 3

Next day came. Schlatt and y/n made it to the school. Schlatt walked ahead slightly from his long legs. Y/n tried to keep up the best she can but with her little legs it's hard. Making it to a little corner where the wall is lined with windows. The group from lunch yesterday was all there. “You're all here early today what's with that” schlatt spoke fist bumping Ted. They all started to talk about all kinds of random stuff y/n felt awkward being there she almost decided to walk away.

Right when she turned around she ran right into someone. Looking up it was a girl with long purple hair and very pretty makeup on. “Sorry” y/n whispered out. “It's alright cutie” her thick Irish accent came through. “What did you just call her?” Schlatt questioned, a little pissed. “um cutie what's wrong with that” the girl walked up to him.”No one but me calls her anything think that” he got up in her face. Y/n tried to get in-between the two so they don't fight. Her hands went on Schlatt's chest to push him away. “Please no it's just a name” y/n spoke quietly to schlatt.

“You're just so tiny” the girl squealed, grabbing y/n and bringing her into a tight hug. “Minx I swear-” Schlatt soon got cut off by Minx dragging y/n away. Y/n looked back at Schlatt with scared eyes. He was about to go after them until Ted stops him by dragging him over to the corner where a couple of them are looking at a laptop. “You gotta see this” Schlatt just rolled his eyes.

Minx ended up rambling to y/n on how cute she was and how she wanted to do her makeup and dress her up. Y/n just wanting to get back to Schlatt not really wanting to be near someone she doesn't really know. The bell ringing and y/n got so excited to be able to leave. “Um, I have to go to my English class now,” she said, slowly walking away. “I'll walk you” minx links her arm around y/n and walks her to her class. Y/n getting dragged along once again by her.

Minx sees Schlatt waiting outside the door to the classroom. “What are you doing here?” Minx said in a harsh tone. “Class” Schlatt bluntly said. “Really? That's unfair why do you get a class with this cutie?” Minx gets close to Schlatt's face. “I didn't choose to do that” Now the two start to fight again. Y/n grabbed Schlatt's arm and dragged him in class so a fight didn't break out. “I don't like fights” y/n said once they got into class. “We weren't going to fight,” Schlatt tried to reassure her.

Once class had started and they had free time to work on their assignments Schlatt walked over to his seat next to y/n. “So who is Minx?” y/n asked schlatt. “She's a friend in the group she's in cheer too” y/n nodding her head in understandment. Looking at her laptop she couldn't stop thinking about how mean schlatt was to her. Was he like that just to her or to everyone? He was usually quiet when y/n was around so she didn't know if he was. She was so in her own thoughts she didn't realize Schlatt was poking her to get her attention. Once she realizes it she looks at Schlatt “you good you went all Spacey on me.”

“Yes just thinking” is all she said

He was a little worried about her but went back to writing.

Later on lunch came and Schlatt took y/n outside with him. In a nice grassy area a group of kids were. She saw Minx there and hid behind Schlatt. Holding onto his shirt so she doesn't get pulled away from him. Minx spots y/n immediately and jumps up to talk to her. Schlatt put his arm out pushing Minx's away from y/n. “No stay away”

“Why”

“Because she clearly is scared of you”

“No she's not”

“She is you got to be calm with her”

The two kept going at it. Soo Ted walks up behind slowly taking you away from the two. “They will bicker with each other forever” Ted told y/n. She just nodded her head watching the two. Soon she sees Schlatt's eyes lit up. Walking away from Minx's. He walks up to y/n. Pulling his backpack off his back he digs through the bag. Pulling out a jersey he handed it to y/n. “Wear this Friday to school” he told her. She looked at it and noticed his last Name in bold on the back. “Why?” she asked him. She continues to study the jersey waiting for his answer. “Because on Fridays everyone wears their school jerseys and the girls of the guys who play wear one of theirs and I want you to wear mine.” hugging it to her chest she smiles. “Okay I'll do that”

[obsessedwithtoomanythings]

The Terrifying Ordeal of Falling in Love with Leon Kennedy

CHAPTER 14 - ENDING

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Reader (female reader)

Series Warnings: Minor injuries, Leon teases reader a lot, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Drinking, Drinking followed by driving, DO NOT DO THAT THIS IS FICTION, Anxiety, Leon S. Kennedy has PTSD, Leon has an anxiety attack, Anxiety Attacks, Swearing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Nightmares, Leon S. Kennedy has Nightmares, Cuddling & Snuggling, Probably incorrect medical talk, Strangulation in one tiny little scene, Reader's brother was a cop who was KIA, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Grief/Mourning, Christmas Fluff, Mistletoe, Fluff and Smut, Eventual Smut, Arguing, Love Confessions, Looking for Alaska is mentioned, Inconvenient Love Confessions, Penis In Vagina Sex, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, Leon loves eating Pussy change my mind, Shower Makeout, romantic smut, Desperate Leon S. Kennedy, They are both desperate for each other tbh, They say I love you as they come, Scar Kissing, Enthusiastic Consent, Always pee after sex, UTI PREVENTION, POV First Person, No use of Y/N

Words: 10K

Author's Note: Well! This is it! I'll be honest, I may write some epilogues, detailing the wedding and possibly kids and stuff like that cause I am legit obsessed with the dynamic Leon and the reader have and I'm not sure I'm ready for it to be over.

Thanks to anyone who read, commented, like, ANYTHING on this! It means the world to me! Also anyone from AO3 who came over to comment or anything like that! I love you!

THIS CHAPTER HAS SMUT

Masterlist

January 2005

Nuh-uh, uh-uh, don’t wanna do this now

There’s just inches in between us

I want you to give in, I want you to give in

There is tension in between us

I just wanna give in

And I don’t care if I’m forgiven

-Shameless, Camila Cabello

He’s late. This isn’t the ‘traffic was bad’ late. It’s ‘someone is going to show up at your door with a KIA notice’ late. The anxiety has been eating me alive for the past 3 days.

The first day was fine. He’s been that late before. The second day is when it began. The twisting in my gut as I checked my phone to see nothing. The gnawing sensation that crawled up my spine every time someone walked into the infirmary that wasn’t him. The squeeze of my heart at footsteps in the hallway that walked right past.

Then the fourth day rolled around. I felt sick, physically. Barely able to eat anything other than a mandatory protein shake that Dr. Dalton practically poured down my throat himself, soft reassurances of ‘I’m sure he’s fine, sweetheart.’ Sweetheart. The term of endearment that Leon had called me so many times made my ears twitch in confusion at hearing it in a tone that wasn’t Leon’s. Shaking hands. This is how it feels to love someon- No. This is how it feels to love Leon. I’m sure Lilian doesn’t feel this way when Jasper is late coming home. He was supposed to be home 4 days ago. He sounded exhausted when he called, saying everything was okay - that he was okay - and that he would be home the next day. That was 5 days ago.

“You alright?” Thomas, the new medical intern asks, his dark brown eyes shining with affection. He had asked me on a date a week and a half ago, the day before Leon left. I agreed, feeling guilty saying no to the first man who had asked me on a date in years. I can’t wait on Leon forever, right? Deep down, I knew it was wrong to agree to a date when I was so deeply infatuated with someone else, but he looked so excited. So proud of himself for working up the courage to ask. Maybe there was a part of me that liked the idea of someone wanting me. Wishing for me the same way I wish for a man who views me as nothing more than his best friend.

I have done plenty of dumb shit in my life. Who hasn’t? But this? This is a new level of stupid.

“Yeah, I’m good,” I mumble into my wine glass, red lipstick smudging slightly across the rim. The restaurant was lively around us, with waiters and patrons flitting around through tables of deep mahogany. The food was delicious, or at least it smelt that way as it passed by our table.

Thomas is being overly patient. He hasn’t asked why we’re our on third glasses of wine, yet still have yet to move past the toasted bread that arrived when we sat down. My tight black cocktail dress feels too scratchy on my skin despite the reason that I bought it being that it was made of soft velvet. My shoes dig into my ankles uncomfortably, forcing me to shift my feet continuously to relieve the irritating bite.

“Dr. Dalton told me about your friend.” I jerk my head to him like he slapped me, guilt and shame beginning to practically leak from my eyes in the form of tears. You’ll ruin your makeup, stop. “I get why you’re worried. Maybe we should reschedule? For when he’s home?” 

‘Sweetheart, you're making the air around you vibrate with the sheer force of your anxiety. You need to calm the fuck down.’ I can practically hear Leon’s voice in my ears. Thomas is nice. Leon would never allow me to be this anxious, he’d make fun of me until I couldn’t remember why I can feel the sweat pooling against the pits of my dress. I nod, noting how rude it is that I’m comparing a date to my best friend.

“Yeah, that’d be good.” He gets the bill, and while I offer to help, he refuses. A gentleman.

‘No way, sweetheart, I do have some manners.’

Get out of my head. Please, Leon.

The drive is short, and while I assure him that I’m alright, Thomas insists on walking me all the way to my door. I unlock it easily, turning the key and flipping on the light, muscles tense and tight with poorly contained anxiety.

“I’ll see you at work tomorrow?” He asks, almost like he doesn’t know how else to end the evening as I turn to say goodnight.

“I’m off tomorrow, but the day after, absolutely.”

“Oh okay, well then I’ll-” He stops, glancing behind me, confusion etched on his features. I whirl around, fight or flight ready to force a reaction from me. Holy fuck.

“Leon?” I practically cry, rushing into his arms and wrapping my arms around his shoulders. I barely notice the sound of the door closing, my date for the evening clearly getting the memo of ‘time to go.’ Leon’s arms come around my waist, a soft touch that isn’t like him. Preparing to be lifted like usual, but nothing like usual happens. He pulls away instead. He backs up, quickly taking notice of my clothing choice before crossing his arms across his chest. “Are you okay? You were supposed to be home 4 days ago.”

“I’m fine,” he practically huffs, turning to walk back toward his room. I reach forward, fingers landing in the crook of his elbow to catch his attention but he pulls away.

“Leon, what the hell?” I demand, frustration rising. Maybe he’s just tired?

“Don’t worry about it,” he states, pulling himself from my grip with a sigh of my name. Not Nurse Nosy. Not Sweetheart. My name. I feel anger bubble up in my chest. I spent days worrying about him, and he can’t even let me at least check him for injuries? He won’t even let me touch him. I’m aggressively reminded of a time when he shut himself off at the slightest push in a direction he didn’t like. It builds with every step he takes down the hallway, into his room.

“I was worried sick about you.” Leon stops. He’s still wearing his boots, his black cargo pants, and a tight compression shirt that is torn in multiple places. Those black fingerless gloves. His watch. His blonde hair is greasy, stringy. He hasn’t even showered yet. I hear him scoff before he turns, hands tucked into his pockets as if his face wasn’t burning with irritation as he looks at me.

“Yeah, I’m sure. You seemed so concerned.” He gestures in the direction of the front door with his eyes. Oh no. Abso-fucking-lutely not.

“I had him bring me home early because I didn’t feel right being on a date when I was practically sick with worry.” I’m gesturing wildly with my hands now, my internal temperature rising at least a few degrees with how wound up I am. Another scoff.

“Yeah, sure.” He turns away again.

“You know what, no.” Another pause was followed by a halting in his tracks. The tension in his shoulders could shatter his bones if he tried hard enough.

“No?” He hasn’t turned to look at me, but I suppose part of me is grateful for that, knowing I may lose my nerve if he looks at me like a kicked puppy.

“No. Since when do you care? I haven’t been on a date in years. Why do you suddenly care now?” I’m yelling by this point. If everyone had a threshold like a cup, mine would be overflowing with bubbling red heat. He does not get to take this shit out on me.

“I have always cared!” His tone matches mine and his eyes burn with a fury I have never seen as he whips around to face me. Nails press into his gloves, digging into the leather, presumably leaving tiny crescents in their wake.

“No, you haven’t! It was easy to not be pissed when I was always home. Always here when you got back to greet you with a hug and a smile. But now that I have things to do, suddenly now you care.” We’re gonna get a noise complaint.

“Yes I fucking have, I have always cared. You just weren’t paying enough attention to see it!” Leon points an accusatory finger at me, and it feels like a literal jab in the chest despite him being almost 6 feet away. I laugh as if this situation is amusing. As if my heart isn’t breaking.

“Please, enlighten me then Agent Kennedy, as to what exactly I’ve missed, since clearly, not everyone is as perceptive as you are.” It’s a low blow, calling him by his title, but I’m fuming so much I’m surprised steam isn’t blowing out of my ears. His slight recoil is almost enough to make me apologize. Almost.

“Don’t do that.” He sounds small. Fuck. I want to hug him, apologize for screaming at him before he has even had a chance to change his clothes and shower. But I can’t. I can’t do this anymore.

“Don’t what?” I’m riding on this wave of red, fists twisting in the soft velvet of my dress.

“Don’t Agent Kennedy me,” he utters before he brushes it off, like flipping a switch. “You know what, I’m not doing this tonight, I’m exhausted. Go makeout with whats-his-face.” That’s it.

“Excuse me? What kind of person do you think I am, dickhead?”

“Oh, you didn’t wanna shove your tongue down his throat?” He feigns surprise, a hand pressed against his chest. I have never wanted to hit someone. Ever. But right now? I want to deck him.

“I wanted to be around you! I missed you!” I’m screaming again, and I feel tears brimming in my eyes. Fuck my makeup. He clicks his tongue, and it feels more like a taunt.

“Well, you should have been home earlier then.”

“Why the hell are you punishing me? I was worried sick the entire time you were gone, especially these past few days of radio silence!” His tone is condescending as if he’s riding some high horse.

“I’m sure it was so difficult for you. Next time, I’ll send a postcard.” He has no clue how it feels. So tell him.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like?” My tone is calmer, fury burning just below the surface of my skin like some virus, ready to raise the fever. Leon’s lips part to respond, but I don’t let him. “Every knock on that door when you’re gone scares the shit outta me because I’m expecting it to be some suit, telling me that you’re dead or worse. I get that what you do isn’t easy, but don’t try to make me feel guilty when all I ever did was worry about you.” My words have an effect on him, his demeanor shifting from one of defense and attack to… almost regret, it seems.

“I never meant to worry you, but you knew what you signed up for when you asked me to move in.” Leon’s tone has shifted. We’re no longer screaming at each other but with the barely-held-together emotions running rampant in the room, I can’t tell if this is better or worse than when we were screaming.

“You’re right. I did,” I concede, and for a second, his blues show a flash of confusion. “But I didn’t sign up to be punished for trying to live my life.”

“I’m not punishing you-” His tone is rising again as he rotates his body to face away from me, not entirely turned. He’s facing my bedroom door.

“Yes, you fucking are, Leon! Why are you so mad about me going on a date? Is it cause you don’t have time to go on one of your own?” It’s the only logical reason I can think of as to why he’s so angry. We’re screaming again.

“Because I don’t want you going on dates!” The words slam into me, turning the tidal wave of rage into a puddle. Not a big one either. The kind that you can step in with sneakers on and your socks won’t even get wet. It leaves a dark pit of bewilderment in its wake. Complete and utter confusion.

“Why?” He’s silent. Leather-covered palms press into his eyes as he huffs in frustration. He wants me to leave it alone. Wants me to back off, letting him close back into himself, where he thinks no one can find him. Where no one can hurt him. “Leon. Why don’t you want me going on dates?” His hands drop to his waist as he spins on his heel once again, and I’m floored by the intensity in his eyes. There’s almost no blue left, or at least it seems that way from where I’m standing.

“Don’t make me say it.” There’s that smallness. The look of begging. Pleading.

“Leon…” I start, but he doesn’t let me finish.

“I’m asking you to drop it.” JUST FUCKING TALK TO ME. LET ME IN.

“No! I’m not dropping it! What the fuck do you mean?” He laughs, a full-blown sound that rings out almost maliciously as his whole body practically moves with it.

“Wow! The return of Nurse Nosy.” Fucking. Dickhead. “Never saw that one coming.”

“Fine,” I deadpan, moving toward him and turning into my room, attempting to close the door. His hand presses against the wood, forcing it to remain open, fuming bodies only a couple of feet apart now.

“What the hell are you doing?” Oh, so when he walks away, I’m the bitch. But when it’s me, I’m still the bitch.

“I’m going to bed, asshole.” I put every ounce of strength into shoving the door, but his arm holds steady. Easily.

“We’re not done.”

“Yes, we fucking are. You made that crystal clear.” Another attempt. Another failed attempt. The tears are blurring my vision, finally seeing an opportunity to pour in the privacy of my room. Away from his terrifyingly focused blue gaze.

“Would you just come back out here and talk to me?” He has no right to ask me that.

“Why?” My voice breaks on the word, and for the first time, it’s like he finally sees how I feel as his hardened features soften. How my heart is breaking and it’s spilling out from my eyes into his waiting palms. “So you can be pissed at me some more?” With his other hand, he runs his hands through his hair, touseling it even more in frustration, and while he’s not looking at me, it’s clear he’s at war with himself. “So you can make me feel like shit even more?”

“Because I love you, damn it!” He shouts again, and the tone causes me to flinch before it sluggishly catches up. He…

“What?”

“You heard me,” he admits, cheeks stained bright crimson at the admission. “So would you please just-” The words he was saying are long forgotten as I rush forward, cold hands on either side of his face and tugging him in. I love you, the words bounce around in my skull as my lips collide with his, and for a moment, he seems surprised. It only takes that long for him to catch up. Palms find my hips, pulling me flush against his warm chest, against his hammering heart. He tastes like spearmint, his lips refusing to relent until we pull back for air, foreheads pressed together, noses brushing as labored breaths pass between our now-red lips and my cheeks are wet with tears. Those ocean eyes look at me like the light spills from them, lighting his way home. A small giggle breaks the silent air, the heavy breaths.

“I pour my heart out to you and you laugh?” He mumbles, but I can practically hear the smile in his voice as I giggle again. “What’s so funny?”

“You stink.” He laughs. The sweet kind, like cold lemonade on a hot day. The kind that makes butterflies swirl inside your stomach to the point of painting your face with an unmovable grin.

“Well, someone interrupted me as I was on my way to my post-mission shower,” he teases, planting another tender kiss across my lips like he can’t get enough of them. My hands slide over his shoulders, cupping the back of his neck as I nose along the line of his jaw.

“I’m so sorry. How can I make it up to you, Agent Kennedy?” The question is much more sultry than intended, my racing heart making me feel practically breathless. Leon’s eyes narrow at the nickname in mock irritation - especially because he specifically told me not to use it months ago - smile still evident as his arm drapes over the small of my back to hold my other hip, if only to add more points of contact. I’m expecting a ‘make me something to eat please?’ or maybe even a ‘kiss me more’. I am not, however, expecting his next words.

“Take it with me?”

“What?” I giggle through the question, wondering how the hell he manages to exude confidence even in situations like this, his finger pressing my chin up until our eyes lock.

“You heard me.” He repeats his earlier phrase like this single sentence holds all the power between us, and maybe it does. “Take my post-mission shower with me.” My face heats up again, and I finally understand the look he’d give me when he’d get a reaction out of me. The amusement. The pride. He wasn’t proud because he got a reaction. He was proud because it gave him hope. Hope that one day, he could kiss me like this. I can’t stop the way my eyes drop to the floor, only for him to clear his throat, drawing my attention back to him. To his lips. To those damn ocean eyes.

“Lead the way, Superman.”

“Oh, I will.” Chapped lips smushing back onto mine, muffling the squeal that rips from my chest. The leather of his fingerless gloves glide over my exposed thighs, gripping them before mumbling ‘jump’ right into my mouth, and who am I to argue with a government agent? My thighs wrap tightly around his trim waist, fingers pressing into the flesh there as Leon begins to walk, presumably carrying us to the bathroom, but for all I know, he could be walking us out into the snow. My mind is far too preoccupied with running my tongue along the seam of his lips, tasting the bitter tang of the nightcap he had, which now lies unfinished on the living room coffee table.

My back hits the wall, sandwiched between his warm chest and the chill of the painted sheetrock. A hand - I couldn’t tell you whose - reaches to flip on the bathroom light before he carries us in, closing the door before I feel the chilly countertop beneath my ass. Leaving one last kiss on my swollen lips, he pulls away - taking his warmth with him - chuckling at the small sound of disapproval leaves my lips.

“What are you-”

“Relax, I’m just turning on the shower, sunshine.” It’s hard not to stare, taking notice of the smattering of scratches that litter his arms as he reaches in to flip the water on.

“Sunshine?” I question teasingly, pressing my palms to the granite surface and leaning forward, head tilting to the side in curiosity.

“Yeah,” he smirks, removing his gloves and tossing them onto the tile flooring so he can check the temperature of the falling water. “You’ve always been this… Light in the dark for me. So ‘Sunshine’ seems fitting.” Leon’s not looking at me, but his cheeks are pink again. He must be satisfied with the temperature because he pulls back to finally meet my eyes again, stepping back up to where I’m perched. “Have I mentioned how sexy you look in this dress?” He mumbles, his lips skimming the skin of my throat in soft bites and kisses.

“You haven’t.” My words come out in a breathless gasp, his hands sliding up my thighs - barely grazing the bottom hem of the black velvet fabric - massaging the flesh in his grip.

“Well, I should have,” he growls. Holy fucking shit. That’s a sound I never thought I’d hear. “Maybe you wouldn’t have gone on that date if I had.”

“I definitely wouldn’t have,” I tease, fingertips moving to climb under the fabric of his compression shirt, desperate to explore his form in ways I have never been allowed to until this moment.

“Eager, are we, sunshine?” Fucker is smirking into the kiss as if he’s faring better than I am at this moment.

“Says the one who asked me to shower with him.”

“Touché.” I grip the hem of the fabric between my digits, pushing it up his chest in an effort to rid him of it. His arms come up to aid me in my own personal mission, revealing his chest to my wandering eyes before toned arms come down on the counter on either side of my hips.

“You don’t need to be this attractive, asshole,” I murmur, almost more to myself than anything before he responds with a passionate kiss, his warm hands slipping beneath my dress to shove it above my hips, revealing a pair of lacy blue panties. A light groan spills into my mouth from him as he presses himself between my legs, hands finding the backs of my knees and yanking me forward with a yelp.

“Speak for yourself,” he argues, refusing to part from my lips for more than a second. “Fuck, can I take this fucking dress off of you?” My only reply is a nod, our foreheads tapping together because of the movement. Leon doesn’t waste another second, gripping the soft fabric and pulling it over my head without hesitation, and his eyes widen at the sight of the bra, lacy and matching perfectly with the panties. “You’re trying to kill me,” he whispers, eyes raking down my figure before I begin squirming anxiously. The room is full of steam by now, the mirror behind me completely covered and his creamy skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

“Maybe we should actually shower instead of you just staring at me?” I suggest with a nervous giggle. He finally looks back up at me, and I notice the blues in his eyes are slowly slimming, his pupils dilating.

“I think that’s a great idea.” Hands skim across my back to easily unclip my bra, tugging it down my arms until it joins his shirt in a pile on the floor, my panties soon following, leaving me completely exposed before him. This adonis of a man is looking at me like I’m the most precious piece of art he’s ever laid his eyes on.

“Feels a little unfair, don’t you think?” My arms come up to cover my chest. No one has looked at me in this state in a long time.

“Don’t,” he coaxes, grabbing my hands to rest them against his shoulders, leaning in to nuzzle into my neck and jaw again. “Please don’t hide from me. You’re gorgeous.” I hear a clinking before feeling his shoulders shift beneath my palms, undoing his belt - I assume - and then I hear his pants hit the floor, although it’s barely audible over the pattering of the water against the shower curtain. Leon takes a slow step back, holding my hands to help me down from the countertop before practically dragging me into the warm stream of water. I can’t help as my gaze drifts down, taking in the wet ridges of his abs, to the v of his hips, and down until his voice forces my eyes back up in embarrassment. 

“My eyes are up here, baby.” He closes the shower curtain with a teasing smile.

“Sorry.” My voice is shaking.

“Sunshine,” he soothes, hands finding my hips to pull me against his body in what was supposed to be a comforting hug. It quickly dissipates into anything but as I feel his hard length against my stomach, slick practically dripping from my center by this point. “You’re fine. I’m teasing you.”

“Well, you did always say I was easy to tease,” I mumble into his chest, using his embrace as an excuse to hide my blush.

“That you are, sweetheart,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to my now-wet hair. “Although I do actually need to shower.” Reaching for his shampoo while still keeping an arm locked around me, I take a deep breath before taking it from him.

“Can I wash your hair?” I question, looking up at him through my lashes.

“How could I say no to that?” Leaning down so it’s easier for me to reach him, I pour the pine-scented shampoo into my palm, rubbing them together before lathering the soap into his scalp. The agent releases a string of curses and groans as I massage his head, knowing from experience that he really enjoys it. Shifting around so that his head is under the water, I rinse the suds from his blonde locks, a soft smile pulling at my lips.

“Maybe this should be the new tradition.” The words are said without thought, falling from my lips.

“What?”

“Me taking your post-mission shower with you.” Fingers tighten around my waist as a small grunt departs from his throat, sounding more like it came from his chest.

“That sounds perfect.” He’s breathless. “Fuck, I can’t wait anymore.” Wet lips pressing to mine, hands gripping my thighs and lifting, not even prompting me to jump as I’m brought against his body, trapping his cock between us. A jolt runs through my spine like lightning at the sensation and my back hits the cold shower wall, thighs tightening around Leon’s waist.

“Impatient, are we Superman?” It’s mumbled into his mouth and I can feel his smile in response.

“Take one look at you, and tell me I shouldn’t be impatient.”

“Maybe not in the shower though?” I giggle, and the chill sets in as the water begins to run cold.

“Maybe not,” he says with his own chuckle, dropping my feet to the floor before steadying me, the floor slick as he moves to switch off the brisk water from falling on my bare shoulders. His arm comes around them to tug me close to his chest, the heat radiating off of him creating a heat wave in the middle of January. With a goofy smile, I lean out and grab a towel from where it hangs before throwing it over his head.

“I think pink is a good color for you, Superman.” Damp blonde locks emerge from the pink fabric with a cacophony of light chuckles and shy smiles filling the room.

“Yeah? I think it looks much better on you, sweetheart.” The cockiness has returned to his tone, and I roll my eyes at his shifted behavior.

“Oh really? And what makes you say that?” I sass, ready to take him on. In more ways than one.

“Cause it’s the prettiest color I could turn your cheeks.” His tone sends heat straight to my core as he steps forward, the pink towel wrapped around his neck, inches between our noses.

“We both know you can easily make me blush. This isn’t new info, Leon.” Don’t back down from this.

“You’re right. It’s really easy.” Leon brings the towel over his head to wrap it around my back. The gesture seems sweet. For a minute. Tugging on the towel, it forces my chest against his, wet skin sliding against wet skin. “I fully intend to make you turn every shade of pink tonight.” And then he’s picking me up again. Holding me is easy for him, with years of strength training proving to be useful for pleasurable purposes as well as he carries me into my - Our bedroom? - I’ll need to ask him about that, I suppose. As my mind wanders, the agent doesn’t hesitate to throw me unceremoniously onto my - our bed, a small yelp leaving my throat at the sudden drop.

“Leon you can’t just throw me around!”

“See, I think you like it.” He mutters, voice dropping into a lower octave, gravely and rough as he rests his weight onto his hands - which are on either side of my head. “I think you like how much stronger I am. I think it gets you going, baby.”

“Is that so?” I say, voice shaking with barely contained arousal, and Leon being, well Leon, knows this. With a nod, he presses his lips to the column of my throat, sucking a smattering of red marks onto the skin. My teeth clamp over my bottom lip, muffling the sounds that threaten to leave my voicebox, but clearly, Leon has other ideas. His hand presses to my jaw before his thumb caresses my chin, applying light pressure until my lip slips from between my teeth.

“Don’t hide any of those sounds from me, gorgeous,” he commands, and I’m reminded of his position in his career. The power he holds at the young age of 27. I nod in his hold, goosebumps prickling across my skin as he nips at my tender skin. His name leaves my lips in a muffled whimper; hands tracing soft patterns into my arms before his lips dance across my collarbone, his teeth pressing into the bone as a quick gasp breaks from my mouth. “Good girl.”

“Leon,” I whimper as his mouth drags lower, pressing soft kisses to my sternum, between my boobs as I lace my fingers through his blonde locks. “You can’t just say that.”

“Aww, why not, sunshine?” He teases, his hot breath teasing across my pebbled nipple, his warm hand coming down to cover the neglected breast. He looks up, as if he’s waiting for something. “Can I?” I nod, his blue eyes practically swallowed up by the dark pupil that swells in his arousal.

“Yeah.” The word is a breath released into the quickly cooling air. It’s all he needs before his warm lips close around the nub, suckling gently before his tongue swirls over it. I gasp, back arching slightly as my eyes squeeze shut, fingers tightening in his hair as he releases a small groan against my flesh.

“Fuck, you’re so sensitive,” he mumbles against my skin, almost to himself before his lips seal again, tonguing it before switching to the other nipple. “Can I taste you?” His tone is almost desperate. It takes my mind a moment to catch up to what he means before I nod with a mumbled ‘please’.

He doesn’t waste another second, planting wet kisses down my stomach, licking and suckling as he goes solely to illicit reactions from me, which leave him chuckling against my flesh.

“Leon-”

“Shhh, sweetheart,” he hushes, pulling my thighs apart easily as he settles between them, lips and teeth grazing across my inner thigh before giving the other the same treatment until I can practically feel myself dripping onto the mattress below me. “God, you have no idea how long I’ve dreamed of this…”

“Really?” I find myself asking as my heart thumps against my chest. He’s thought about this?

“God, you have no idea what you do to me, do you, baby girl?” He sighs, nosing along the length of my thigh. I can’t stop my fingers from involuntarily twitching, giving his locks an accidental tug.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay, baby. I like knowing how good I’m making you feel.” His blue eyes focus on mine, and I almost pass out at the sight of his damp blonde hair sticking to his forehead, naked shoulders that have my thighs thrown over them haphazardly as he licks his chapped lips. “Tell me this is okay.”

“Please, Leon…” The words come out as a whimper (I didn’t even realize I could whimper), and for a split second, I doubt I have ever been this desperate for anything.

“Good girl,” he whispers, breath tickling against my core and I can barely contain my groan before a squeak rips from my throat, his tongue running a hot stripe across my sex. Well, that’s a new feeling.

“God-” I yelp, squeezing my eyes shut as shivers run up my spine. Leon chuckles against me, tongue plunging into my opening to drink straight from the source before he pulls back to speak.

“Just me, sunshine.” I roll my eyes, laughing just a bit before the agent’s lips seal around my clit, sucking enough to tug the chord in my spine taunt, my back bending as my fingers tighten. Leon groans at the gentle tightening of his damp hair, the vibration traveling straight into my core. “Fuck, you taste amazing.”

“Leon, please just… Please kiss me…” I whimper as I attempt to bring him back up, but he holds firm before dropping wet kisses to my clit, ending each kiss with a light suckle. “That’s not what I meant.”

“You didn’t clarify. I’m giving you kisses, just like you asked.” His smirk is practically audible as he plants more smooches, despite my protests and groans. Fingers gently prod at my entrance, and I can’t help but tense. “Do you wanna stop, sweetheart?”

“No!” I answer, almost too quickly, and the feeling of his smile presses against my thigh before he covers it with licks and bites.

“Then relax,” he assures, hand running soothing circles over any skin he can reach. It takes another moment of his tongue twirling around my nub before I loosen my muscles enough for a thick digit to slowly press inside my heat. “Good girl.” Fuck that should not be a turn on. “Oh you do like that,” he whispers, almost to himself as I tighten around his finger. He picks a leisurely pace to thrust his finger in, basking in each sound he pulls from my lungs before he adds a second, following the same treatment, stretching me to accommodate his length.

“Leon, fuck I can’t…”

“Don’t challenge me, sweetheart. I’m not moving from this spot until you come around my fingers,” he mumbles into my core, fingers moving faster as his mouth works double time on my clit until the white-hot heat rips through me and I come with a high-pitched squeak. My muscles relax one by one, both of his hands rubbing soothing patterns over my skin as I come down from my high with breathless pants, and I realize I barely felt him remove his fingers.

“It should be illegal for you to be that good at that,” I mumble with a breathless giggle, and he chuckles as he leans up, wiping his lips and chin with his arm before pressing his lips back to mine. I can taste myself as his tongue prods against mine for a brief second.

“I’m gonna be spending a lot of time down there, sunshine,” he whispers into my ear as he grips my thighs, pulling them tight around his waist and I gasp at the feeling of him pressing against my pubic bone. “If you want to stop, we can,” he mumbles against my mouth. I shake my head aggressively.

“No, I’m fine.” The offer warms my heart though. “I’ve waited too long for you already.”

“Me too.” He doesn’t hesitate to move toward me, rutting himself against my heat with a groan of his own. He reaches down, leaning all his weight down on one arm, pressing himself against my slick opening before stopping, looking at me with a look that screams ‘Are you sure?’ My answer comes in the form of kissing him again, and he chuckles against my mouth. I’ll never get tired of this.

With the reassurances out of the way, his hips shift, pressing himself forward and my fingers tighten in his hair at the slight intrusion. “Are you okay, sunshine?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” I whisper, breath tickling his lips.

“Are you sure you want to keep going?” He practically breathes the words, trying to halt the involuntary actions of his hips that send my brain into a spiral before I have to contain the breathy laugh that threatens to ring out.

“I swear to god, Lee, if you ask me that one more time, I’m gonna…” I say with a smile, trailing off, hoping he’ll get my point, but why would I be so lucky?

“You’re gonna what, sunshine?” He whispers into my ear with a chuckle of his own and I move my arms to press against his shoulder blades as he continues his ruthless teasing. “Tell me what you’ll do, baby.”

“Fuck you, Kennedy,” I groan, throwing my head back against the pillow in frustration.

“If you insist.” It takes a moment for my brain to catch up, but it catches up fast when Leon shifts his hips, pressing himself into my tight channel with a rumbling shudder until his hips are flush against mine. He’s trembling almost as much as I am. For a moment, neither of us moves, content in our tight embrace, as close as two people can possibly be. Breathing the same breaths, hearts practically beating in sync as his arms rest on either side of my head, surrounding me in the sweet scent of him. His name falls from my lips as a shaky breath, both of our hands roaming over the others skin without barrier. I can practically feel my walls molding around the shape of his cock, content to keep him there until the sun explodes. “You’re so soft…” He whispers, almost an afterthought. “I’m gonna move, is that okay?”

“Please.” And then he shifts his hips, pulling out before plunging back in with enough momentum to force the air from my lungs, followed by a high pitched keen from the back of my throat. The pleasure radiates from my center the same way his skin radiates heat, and the sweat slicked flesh feels almost like an anchor, grounding me to him. The only thing keeping me afloat. His name falls from my mouth in a cacophony of squeals and moans, and with each sound, Leon grows more and more bold, and after a few minutes of mingling moans and increasingly wet sounds of skin on skin, his pace slows.

“I have a confession to make.” He whispers, an almost guilty look on his face as he leans up just enough for me to see the blues of his eyes.

“Oh god,” I say, palms resting on his damp pecs, anxiety flashing through my mind. “What?”

“You know that um…” He says, pausing as his cheeks flush. He’s embarrassed. “That day I came into the infirmary? With back issues?”

“Tell me you didn’t like, actually break something and I’m hurting you,” I plead, nervous jitters spreading from the tips of my toes to my fingers.

“No, god no, you’re fine,” he exclaims, leaning up until he’s resting on his hunches, cock still pressed tightly inside my body, and I inhale at the sensation of him shifting around, pressing against spots inside me that I didn’t even know I had. “I um…”

“Oh my god, spit it out please, Superman.” He chuckles at the desperation in my tone, eyebrows raising before he continues, but not before canting forward slightly to force a moan from my lips.

“Okay okay. I lied that day. I didn’t actually have any back issues,” he admits, face flushed again.

“What?” I place my hands over his as they rest on my hips, confusion painting my features. “But then why did you…”

“I wanted to see you. I… I couldn’t stop thinking about you after that first visit.” He pauses, taking a deep breath. “You were the first one to ask about my mental state, and while I wasn’t ready to deal with it at the time, I appreciated the concern.” I reach up, my hand cupping his jaw as I break out into a fit of giggles.

“You are so cute,” I coo, and he rolls his eyes before pressing his finger down on my clit and I jerk upward as if I’m trying to escape his touch. We both know that’s not the case.

“I’ll show you just how cute I am.” The words send a wave of heat down my spine that pool around him, practically leaking out around his cock as he begins his movements back up, blue eyes looking down on me with affection and lust. I relish in his attention with a small smile.

“Please do, Agent Kennedy.” Oh how the tables have turned. He chuckles, leaning back down to cage me in between his arms again.

“You’re in for it now, sunshine.” The tender moment has faded, lips and tongues pressed together in hot kisses as sweaty bodies move in tandem. The knot in my core tightens as my fingers squeeze around the firm muscles of his shoulders, and the sounds leaving my mouth are downright pornographic. I can barely focus on anything besides the feeling of his skin against mine, the wet sounds between us, and every word he whispers directly into my ear. “Good girl.” “Taking me so well, sunshine.” “You’re fucking perfect.” “Come with me like a good girl.”  Each phrase sends a tingle across my skin, my orgasm pulled taunt until it snaps like a rubber band, and I come around him with a muffled ‘I love you’ as he follows, spilling himself inside of me with the same groaned ‘I love you’s. His weight drops for a moment before his arms tighten around me to flip us so that he doesn’t press down on me as we both try to take in much oxygen as we can with labored breaths, my cheek pressed to his rapidly rising and falling chest. “Are you okay?”

“Mhm.” I nod, eyes already drifting with the need for a rest. 

“No no no, you gotta pee, sunshine.” His hand pats gently against my ass and I sleepily laugh before getting up and rushing into the bathroom to pee, pulling on my panties on my way back. I stop in the doorway, looking at him resting in bed, having flipped over onto his stomach, arms tucked under his pillow.

The chill of the air forces me back into bed quickly though, hopping over Leon to get to my side. My side. His face pressed into the soft fabric of his pillow, and I lay down on his back - practically laying on him - before running my fingers across the raised skin on his right shoulder. This was from when I patched him up for the first time.

“Will I ever get to hear the stories behind your scars?” I find myself asking in a hushed tone as if I’ll wake up from a dream if I speak too loud. I trace what was once that gash the size of my forearm with a delicate touch. Light, soft. He shifts around, moving his face out of the pillow to speak.

“Which ones do you wanna know about?” He mumbles. He’s clearly tired, but he’s humoring me, which is just like him.

“All of them,” I admit. He shivers beneath me, my digits still tracing over marred skin. I feel him huff out a laugh from his back against my cheek.

“Nurse Nosy. That’s never gonna change is it?” He teases. I gasp in mock offense, ready to retort with someone that most definitely would have been witty and clever. “That one was from an axe.” I tilt my head, confused for a moment before I realize he’s talking about the scar.

“It was an axe?” I ask skeptically, sitting up so that I’m sitting on his lower back, legs on either side of his torso bent at the knee. He nods against the pillow.

“Guy grabbed the axe from the fire emergency kit.” I look at the skin, and suddenly it feels different. It feels raw, and intimate, and scary. Before I can think twice, I lean forward, pressing my lips to the marred flesh. Leon tenses, every muscle in his body going rigid and I begin to sit up before his arm comes out from under the pillow, catching my attention.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t hav-”

“It’s okay. It’s okay for you to do that.” He whispers, and I can faintly see the tint of a blush on his cheeks and nose. Leaning back down again, palms resting on the warm skin of his back, I press kisses along the length of the gash before I sit back up, hands not leaving his skin as I move them to the long thin scar that runs from his left shoulder diagonally over his spine, ending at the bottom of his ribs on the right side. The one I patched here, in our apartment. On our couch.

“What about this one?”

“That is from when I was dealing with one guy, another snuck up behind me with a knife. I was really lucky I moved when I did.” The idea of him almost dying isn’t a pleasant thought in the slightest, so I opt to lean down, giving this scar the same treatment as the last one, kisses tenderly placed across it. My eyes move to the small circular wound on his left shoulder. I trace the edges of it, noting how his breath catches. This was caused by a bullet.

“And this one?” I ask, hesitant. He’s never mentioned this one before, and it certainly wasn’t one myself or any of the DSOs doctors did. He takes a deep breath, my body rising slightly as his chest expands before he releases it.

“I was shot. I was trying to protect this girl, her name is Ada. I took the bullet for her. I don’t know if it was some stupid crush or a general sense of duty, but I jumped in front of her.” He tries to keep his tone impassive, but I can tell. I can always tell with him.

“Ada? You’ve never mentioned anyone named Ada before,” I question. He takes a long pause, so long that for a moment I wonder if he’s going to ignore the question altogether.

“She was a mercenary that I met in Raccoon City. Granted, I didn’t know she was a mercenary at the time. She claimed she was FBI, and young and naive as I was, I believed her. She used me to do her dirty work.” He explains, and it’s impossible to miss the sadness in his voice. The betrayal. It’s as fresh as it was the day in Raccoon City.

“What happened to her?” I ask. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Well up until last August, I thought she was dead. She fell in Umbrella’s lab when it started coming down. I couldn’t pull her up. But then she was in Spain, tried to convince me to leave Ashley behind and go with her.”

“But you said no?”

“I did.”

“Why?” He shifts his head, looking back at me before chuckling.

“I promised Ashley I’d get her home.” He says before quietly adding, “And I promised myself that I’d come home to you.” Another light kiss pressed right on the old wound. The old memory. Sitting up, I scan his back, trailing my fingers across scarred flesh before I speak up.

“Can I do the ones on your front?” It’s practically a whisper. Surprisingly, he nods, flipping beneath me so that I’m now resting on his abdomen. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” It’s a fair question, given the shining of tears I can see forming in his eyes from the moonlight shining. He nods.

“Yeah. I’m just not used to anyone being so… gentle. Not with me anyways. But I trust you.”

It’s hard not to shiver at the feeling of hard muscle under my covered core, but I ignore it in favor of poking a small cut on his bicep. He chuckles, cheeks dusted pink.

“Uh oh. What was this one?” His laugh is contagious, my own chuckle coming out at the notice of his laughter.

“It was so stupid. One of the guys I was training with decided he wanted to spar, and in the middle, one of the higher-ups walked in.” He starts, his hands resting on my thighs, the warmth just enough to keep me from needing pants. “Well being the 21-year-old that I was, I wanted to try and show off. I ended up fucking up something and caught myself with the blade.” It’s cute to see him embarrassed.

“Well, at least it’s a good story.” I giggle, before pressing a kiss on the old wound. I grip his hand, the one that had the burn, the skin completely healed, almost appearing like nothing had happened at all. A soft kiss pressed there too.

“Guy had a torch. It caught my glove.” I look up at his explanation, smiling before placing a series of kisses there, one on each knuckle before I set his hand back on my thigh. The scar in the center of his chest. I place my palm on it, the length of it longer than my hand from wrist to the tip of my middle finger.

“What about this one?” A deep breath, steadying. Calming. He’ll tell me if he’s not comfortable talking about it. I need to trust that he will.

“It happened in Spain. There were these… Parasites. It’s what they were using to control the people. They infected me. I know I should have told you soon-”

“Ashley told me. Back at the white house, at that party where you tricked me into coming with you.”

“She told you?” He questions, confusion in his voice as his eyebrows raise. “She told you what they were or…”

“She told me they were parasites. And that both of you were infected, but were cured. I didn’t wanna push you into talking about it, so I never brought up that I knew,” I admit, suddenly feeling as if I’ve hidden some vital detail from him. That feeling is washed away as his chest begins to move with his laugh.

“She would be the one to blab about that.” He chuckles again to himself lightly. “But this is the scar left from the removal.” I kiss it, right in the center before kissing my way up his chest, stopping at a scar on the left side of his jaw. It’s small, almost unnoticeable. “Before you ask, I was shaving with a razor that was dull as hell. It left this as a reminder to change my razors more often.” I giggle into his neck, nose tracing across the line of his jawbone before I place a soft kiss on it. My lips continue to press wet kisses at any exposed skin I can reach without sitting up.

“I’ll ask about more another time. We’ve got lots of time.” His arms come up to wrap around my shoulders, my naked chest pressed against his, able to feel his heartbeat under me. The silence stretches on, and I almost wonder if he has dozed off before he speaks.

“Marry me.” I press on his chest until I’m hovering over him, shock widening my eyes.

“What?” He’s not serious.

“You heard me,” he comments, eyes still shining with tears. Because no one has ever been so soft with him. No one has ever treated him like a person, they’ve only seen Leon S. Kennedy, STRATCOM’s golden boy. “Marry me.”

“You did good.” I turn quickly toward the door at hearing his voice again.

“Sorry?” My voice is quieter than intended, almost making it sound like I’m afraid. Agent Kennedy’s head tilts, looking over his shoulder, no smile, just looking.

“You did a good job. You took good care of your first victim.” For a moment, and only a moment, I see a glimmer of a smirk flit across his mouth before he’s gone, the echo of his boots practically filling my ears as he makes his way down the hallway.

“Really? You? A cop?” The revelation takes me by surprise, although it probably shouldn’t have. My eyebrows rise in shock.

“Yeah, believe it or not. Ended up here through sheer dumb luck.” The way he says ‘dumb luck’, it sounds like there’s more he wishes he could say but can’t.

“Well, then it sounds like you’re pretty brave yourself, Agent Kennedy.” The clipboard handed to him. Him signing it with a scratching across the paper. His hands, bruised knuckles and all, returning it to me.

“Nurse Nosy!” I turn, irritation growing on my face as he quickly makes his way over to me.

“Can you pick a different nickname, please?” I ask, and he ignores the question in favor of his own request.

“A couple of friends and I are grabbing drinks tonight. Come with.” It takes me by surprise, him inviting me out with his friends.

“Look, if this is a pity thing, it’s fine. I’m content in my loneliness.”

“It’s not. I’m just trying t-”

“To help?” His sentence is finished by me, and for a brief second, I see a flash of embarrassment on his cheeks due to the nature of my line of questioning the first time we met.

“I’m just trying to invite you out for a drink. That’s all.”

Looking up, I see Leon slide his arms into his own jacket, the leather practically molding to his stature, and I have to contain a groan at the sight as he zips it. I completely lose focus for a moment, only brought out of it as his fingers knock against my forehead teasingly. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Sorry, but my thoughts cost a dollar,” I sass, taking the helmet as he hands it to me and pulling it onto my head.

“Well, remind me to start saving up.” Another godforsaken wink. Fuck. Don’t. Leon, I’m begging you. Don’t make me fall in love with you. I can’t.

“Well apparently, it does, in fact, matter. Which sucks. I would need to find someone who could put up with not knowing when I’ll be here and when I won’t.” He glares at the ceiling as if it’s personally offended him, furrowed brows and lips curled downward. Don’t. Don’t fucking say it. Don’t.

“I could.” Had to open my fucking mouth. Leon’s eyes immediately snap to me, his frown replaced with a surprised expression.

“What?” He asks, almost in disbelief.

“I have an extra room. And I don’t mind the chaotic schedule,” I mumble, suddenly very embarrassed by my outburst. “Plus, I could keep your plant alive.” He finally cracks a smile as he laughs.

“You’re serious?”

“I mean, you’ll have to help with rent. And groceries when you’re here, but, yeah. If you want, the spare’s yours.”

“Will you do that for a little longer?”

“What?” He gestures to his head.

“Your fingers in my hair.” Don’t.

“Of course. Come here.” I scoot back, grabbing the pillow from the floor and placing it behind me so I can rest against it, flipping the lamp off before laying down completely. Leon finds the blanket draped over the back of the couch, tugging it over his back and my legs before resting his head on the middle of my chest, and while I knew this was coming, it still took me by surprise. I settle with his head there, his face turned toward the TV I know he’s not actually watching.

“Your heart’s beating really fast,” he slurs, already on the brink of sleep as I thread my fingers through his blonde locks once more, finger combing the strands until I feel him start to snore again, a light sound that could almost be mistaken for breathing if you weren’t listening. But of course, I was listening. I’m always listening when it comes to him.

I fall asleep like this as well, his head on my chest, the smell of his citrusy shampoo in my nose, his breath warming the fabric of my thin sleep shirt, and my fingers in his hair.

5. “What are 5 things you can see right now?”

“You.” His voice is trembling. I can practically feel my heart splintering inside my chest.

“Good. What else?”

“Yellow of your shirt.” I nod encouragingly. “Your radio has green numbers.” Good. “The red straw of the cup in your cupholder.” One more. “Your keychain has a picture of you and your sister on it.”

4. “What are 4 things you can feel right now? Physically.”

“Your hands on my jaw.” One. “The seat under me.” Two. “My hands on your legs.” Three. “The sweat on my forehead.” Four. Good.

3. “What are 3 things you can hear?”

“Your voice.”

“Mhm. Good.”

“Birds outside of the car.” One more, Leon. “The blood pounding in my ears.”

2. “What are 2 things you can smell?”

“The car’s air freshener. It’s lavender.”

“Good nose.” I whisper, trying to bring a smile to my own face in reassurance.

“Your perfume. It’s vanilla.”

“You’re doing really well, Leon.”

1. “What is 1 thing you can taste?”

“I don’t know, I can’t-” My hands find the gum in my center console, unwrapping it and offering it to him. He opens his mouth without question, refusing to break eye contact as I pop the spearmint strip into his mouth. He chews it, the familiar flavor and texture seemingly bringing him a sense of calm. 

“What is one thing you can taste, Leon?”

“My gum.”

“You were there.” I’m not tired anymore.

“Sorry?”

“In Raccoon City. You were there in my nightmare.” He pauses, taking in a breath, his heart stuttering inside his chest. “You were hurt, and I tried so hard to fix it, but…” I run my hand in comforting circles across his shoulder blade as he pauses, taking a breath. “You turned. And I had to…” Oh.

He came in here to make sure I was still alive.

“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, Superman.”

“Superman?” He questions the nickname, and I can hear the smile that adorns his lips.

“Yeah. You’re basically Superman.” Words mumbled into his chest, his arm underneath my head bending to run fingers through the strands that have fallen free from the messy bun at the top of my head.

“She really cares about you, you know that?” Silence. I wish I knew if it was because of some unspoken conversation or if Leon truly just doesn’t know what to say. “She loves hard. Friendships, romance, family. Doesn’t seem to matter to her. If she loves you, she really loves you.”

“I know.” What? “God, don’t I know it. She’s one of the few things in this fucked up world that actually makes me think it’s worth it.”

“I saw you, man. I saw the way you looked at her.”

There he is. He’s dirty, face covered in smudges of mud and what I assume is blood, and there is a bandage on his jaw. His arms are littered with cuts and his right hand is encircled in white sterile wrapping, and beneath the thigh of his black cargo pants - which have a very large hole - there is more wrapping. His eyes practically droop under the weight of the dark circles resting below the multitude of blue swirls, blonde hair stringy and clearly in need of a wash hanging down to graze his cheek.

“I sure hope you didn’t give them too hard of a time, Nurse Nosy.” Tears swell in my eyes at his tone, the final nail in the coffin that it’s him.

“Leon?” He opens his arms just like he always does, and despite the nightmare looming in my brain, I bolt toward him, uncaring of the mud seeping into my socks until my arms are around his shoulders and his are squeezing my middle, lifting my feet off the muddy ground.

“Keeping my hoodie warm for me, sweetheart?” He teases in my ear and I let myself cry, tears streaming from my closed eyelids as I sniffle, refusing to let go of him for the first time since I met him. “Wrap your legs around me, sweetheart, you’re not wearing shoes.” Given my lack of coherency, my muscles move unconsciously, winding around his waist. His nose in my hair, lips against my scalp, arms tight around my ribs. “Let’s go home, sweetheart.”

“I never thought I’d be able to care about someone again, not after everything that happened, but then…” He pauses, just long enough for me to wonder if he had fallen asleep right here and now.

“Then what?”

“Then I found you.” We’re silent for a long moment, him because I presume he’s finished speaking, and me because I am attempting to process his words as they circle around my mind, bumping into the sides violently.

“I care about you too, Leon,” I mumble, forearms wrapping around his head in some kind of strange hug. He shakes his head, his temples pressing against my biceps in disagreement.

“It’s not the same.”

“Well, he told me that you are a nurse and that you guys are best friends.” I visibly relax, thinking it’s nothing to make my mind short-circuit. Then she keeps going. “He said that he doesn’t feel like he’s home after a mission until he’s gotten one of your hugs. That you always smell like warm vanilla, despite your hands always being cold. Said you’re the only one who has ever made him feel safe. Like really, truly safe. He told me that you can’t choose between pink and yellow as your favorite color, and that it changes based on the day. You love lavender, but orchids hold a special place in your heart.”

“I don’t know how he remembers all that…” It’s all I can think to say, having finished off the glass of wine, my fingers tangle together, trying to resist the urge to pick at my cuticles.

“Do you remember those things about him?”

“Of course I do. But it’s different, I-” Stop. Don’t do this. Don’t say it out loud.

“I mean, he told me that he lo-”

“There you girls are.” Leon’s there. Standing in the doorway, suit jacket unbuttoned and tie loosened, and I want to beg Ashley to ‘please, just finish the sentence.’ But I don’t.

“We don’t have to actually-” his hand slides under my chin, tilting my head up and before I can even process it, his lips press to mine. It’s short-lived, but it’s impossible to miss the subtle taste of eggnog and rum. The warmth. Spearmint. His lips are chapped, although that hardly matters at the moment, heart fluttering against my chest as he pulls back, just enough for our noses to brush again. I am never going to be able to forget this.

“Thank you.” Neither of us have opened our eyes, almost afraid to break these precious seconds.

“For what?” I whisper back.

“For everything.”

“Leon Scott Kennedy, you are an impossible man,” I mumble breathily, dropping my head to rest against his clavicle. “You changed the one thing I thought I knew about myself.”

“And what’s that?” I feel his words roll from his chest beneath my cheek.

“I’m not content in my loneliness anymore.” The words are practically whispered by this point.

“That doesn’t exactly answer my question.”

“Technically, you didn’t ask a question. You definitely phrased it as more of a statement.” I can practically hear his eye roll, followed by a deep sigh of exasperation. “You always were my first victim.”

“And I’m gonna be your last, right?” He’s nervous now, the inquiry coming out much quieter. Anxious.

“Yeah,” I agree, and his muscles relax under me. I didn’t even feel them tense up.

“So?” Leon’s hands rub softly across the skin of my back, soothing despite the rough calluses I know he has. It reminds me of the tenderness he is capable of, never mind the hell that he has been through. I sit up again, just enough so that our noses brush, breaths mingling in the space between our kiss-swollen lips.

“Do I get to pick the flowers?” I tease, a small smile growing across my lips. Leon’s blue eyes roll as his own smile appears, a huff of a laugh puffing against my face.

“Yes or no, Nurse Nosy?”

“Yes.”

Leon: @house-of-kolchek @bonnibuckets @athanasia-day @muffimtv Everything: @chaosandbubbles @kassiekolchek22 @akiramoon8088

[sophsicle]

Ooooh I saw you answer that question about writing advice and became curious: do you write “original” fiction as well as fanfiction? (love that for you either way). Love your fics btw. Kill Your Darlings is my absolute jam 🥰

I do yeah!

i don't really do anything with it but it does exist!

i shared the first chapter of one of them on here a while ago i think? i can't find the post now but i'll throw it down below if you're interested! Also thank you im so glad you like kyd!!!!

Ram

I think my father made the trees without mouths on purpose. For if they could talk, all of creation would know his secrets. Of course, in the end, perhaps it is better not to know. Kinder for him to keep us in the dark. Knowing is an anchor, it will drown you. That is why, on quiet days, you will hear the distant sounds of forests weeping. 

There’s a disturbance behind me. Nothing loud or startling—a slight rustle, a breath, the scrape of a leather boot. It is subtle and that is why I do not trust it. Never trust anything that is trying to be quiet. Without thinking my hand goes to my bow, an arrow in place by the time I turn around. 

Montoya laughs, holding his arms up, mocking me. He is dark, my brother, all the way through. 

“Scared, Ram?”  

I know instantly that I did not catch him. He wanted to be found. 

“No,” I answer flatly, “just prepared.” 

Montoya laughs again, bleeding an ease that I have never been able to find myself. Perhaps it is the sort of thing that comes with age. Though when you’re thousands of years old how much difference can a few centuries make?

“Your arms must be getting tired brother,” he says casually, and it is only then that I realize my weapon is still drawn. With reluctance I lower it, returning the arrow to the quiver on my back. 

“Why are you here?” this time I cannot hide my irritation.

“I could ask you the same question.”

I give him a flat look. Of all my siblings, Montoya has always made me the most ill at ease. There’s something about his eyes that leaves me wary. They are gapping holes that you swear will swallow you up and never set you free. 

“You are a terribly dull conversationalist Ram, has anyone ever told you that?” 

I don’t take the bait.

“Tsk tsk, what would father say about these manners huh? You’ve been spending too much time amongst the trees brother, you’re starting to turn into one.”

Not all my siblings can fly. My younger sister, Cartha, has gills instead of wings, and my brother Sye hates having his feet off the ground. But most of us, in some form or another, find ourselves in the sky. Montoya’s wings are large and crow like, hardly subtle or practical, but then, neither is he. Even now they create enough wind that I can feel myself fighting not to be pushed backwards. My own wings are small and white and sprout from my ankles.  

“Well,” I say finally, “if that’s all.” I turn my back on him, a dangerous move I’ll admit, though to his credit, Montoya has never attacked the family. He did, however, kill our sister’s cat once. 

I can hear him following me, hear the beating of his great wings. The noise grates my nerves. He is insufferable and there is nothing I can do about it. Sure, I could fight him, I’m good with a bow, but in truth, my brother is stronger. Besides, a fight is what he wants. It tickles him to make me angry. That’s his whole game. 

“Why so gloomy brother?” he asks, flipping onto his back as he pulls up beside me. I have never heard him be anything but taunting and cruel. I wonder if there was a time when he was not like this, but Hario assures me that there wasn’t and she is the oldest. Still, I find it hard to believe. After all, why would father create a son so hateful?

“I’m always gloomy,” I retort, keeping my gaze forward. 

It is spring, the sun setting and lighting the sky on fire with oranges and pinks. They reach out like fingers from the horizon, as if desperate to hold onto the day. 

“Well that is certainly true. Our melancholy little Ram,” he says in a baby voice that makes me want to spear him through the throat.  

“If I am melancholy what does that make you?” 

“Jolly?” 

I cannot help myself, I laugh. The idea that anyone would describe Montoya as jolly is too much for me.

“No, you’re right,” he says, sounding not at all offended. “Jolly is perhaps too dull a word, I am witty.” 

I look at him, brow arched. “Witty,” I repeat flatly. 

He grins, or perhaps sneers is more accurate. “Certainly wittier than you.” 

“Certainly.” 

“And our dear brothers and sisters.” 

“Certainly,” I repeat, though my jaw is clenched and my nails have begun burrowing into my palms. 

“I expect that is why father holds my opinion in such high regard.” 

“Not as high as Hario's.” The small flash of anger in his eyes is satisfying, though he maintains his smile. 

Hario is undeniably our father’s favourite. In truth, she is my favourite too. I have never been very good at getting close to people, but I have always felt comfortable around her. I can speak to her, tell her things in a way I can’t tell anyone else. 

“Not as high as Hario's,” Montoya repeats, the mockery from earlier melting away, revealing something much sharper. Much more dangerous. He might play at pettiness but I know that, in reality, he is far more sinister. “For now, anyway.” 

I stop abruptly, as though an invisible wall has suddenly appeared in my way. When Montoya finally stops too, turning to face me, I see a glint in his dark eyes. He’s won. Gotten the reaction he wanted. Snuck himself under my skin.  

“What is that supposed to mean?” I demand. 

“Ooh,” he is clearly enjoying himself, “have I hit a nerve?”

When he smiles I swear he has the teeth of a wolf, and in the setting sun they sparkle. I do not know why my father made him, why he poured all his ill will into this one creation and then named it son. A common misconception is that because there are gods there must also be demons. If I am the creator of all, my father always says, why would I create evil? Yet staring at Montoya now, at his black eyes, and pointed teeth, the sky ablaze behind him, I do not struggle to understand why the humans believe in a devil. 

“Do not make idle threats brother,” I say, attempting to keep my tone level. 

I’m playing right into his hands, I know, but I’ll not have Hario threatened. Not by anyone. He smirks, eyes running me slowly up and down before he moves forward, pausing just close enough that I can smell his breath.  

“I promise you,” his voice is so quiet it’s nearly carried away by the wind, “my threats are not idle.” He pauses, before laughing. “Brother.” 

His great wings flap, disturbing the trees below us as he flies higher in the sky.

“Father wishes you to know that he was much displeased that you missed his last banquet,” Montoya shouts as he continues to rise. “If I were you, I would not miss the next one.” 

I watch as he grows fainter and fainter, becoming nothing more than a black blip in the distance. I don’t move. I’m afraid that if I do the anger in me will unleash a hurricane. Quite literally. We are, all of us, me and my brothers and sisters, in possession of an affinity for one of the four elements: air, earth, water, fire. My element is air, Montoya and Hario both master fire. 

I force myself to take in several deep breaths, stretching out my hands which have cramped from being clenched so hard. There is a rage in me that I fear, I don’t know where it comes from or why it’s there, but it sits always in the corner of my chest. I have worked my whole life to suppress it, to keep it locked up inside me so that it can never hurt anyone else. Most of the time I succeed. But Montoya brings out the worst in me. 

I take another breath, the sun is almost gone now and the sky is navy blue and made of velvet. Slowly I start moving again, without really knowing where. I dip lower to the ground so that the tops of the trees brush my skin. I run my hands through them, they are cool now that the sunlight has fled. There shouldn’t be anyone out here to catch me, I’m miles from the nearest human site, but I keep a watchful eye on the ground anyway.

I have always hated my father’s banquets, even in my first days of life. There are too many beings, too much noise, and the way they all look at me…I take no pleasure in the power my father has given me, in the authority that comes with it. The other creations stare at us, or bow, offering up gold and wine and sometimes blood. I cringe at the thought. I have never once felt worthy of the deference they show us. In fact, it makes my skin prick and itch. I am not a leader or a ruler, I never have been. I prefer to watch from a far. In truth, I have always gotten the distinct impression that I am somewhat of a disappointment to my father. 

I close my eyes and drift for a moment, letting the air hold me like a pair of arms, cradling me in the night sky. There is sweat covering my skin, it drips slowly down my arms and legs and the side of my face, sending shivers across my bones. I breathe in again, slowly, listening to my heartbeat, to the expansion of the lungs in my chest. Somewhere a dog howls and a bird cries out. Their voices are faded by distance but they linger long after they are let loose. Hanging in the air just like me. This is where I am happiest, alone in the dark.

This is where I belong.

Edward

I don’t know if my mother ever loved my father. I don’t know how she could have. But I suppose, ultimately, it’s of little consequence. She brought with her a dowry too good to refuse, one which provided the Kingdom of Presado with enough ships and gold that it could boast of having the largest naval force this side of the world. And in return, her people gained the loyalty of my grandfather, one of the greatest military commanders alive, an excellent ally. Love was hardly considered. It never is. You cannot win a war with love, you cannot build palaces or feed hungry mouths with love. So why do we persist in the belief that it is so very important to our happiness? Why do we speak of it in the context of marriage and family when we know that it is so rarely present in either of those establishments? 

I don’t know if my mother ever loved my father. But I know that I certainly didn’t. 

I usually don’t bother with such thoughts but, staring at my own wedding contract, I find them hard to avoid. They say she is beautiful, the princess who is soon to be my wife, but then, they always say that. What use have I for a beautiful wife anyway? Mistresses are chosen for their beauty, I would rather my wife be clever. 

“She’s not a fanatic is she?” I ask my advisor, Rufus, as I look up from the pages in front of me for the first time in ages. My mother laughs and I meet her eye, grinning. Rufus simply looks startled. He’s a small man, with tuffs of hair coming out of his mostly bald head, and eyes that protrude so far from his face you fear they will fall onto the floor. He is wildly clever though. He was significantly under valued by my father, probably because he is in possession of a conscience. Skittish and odd he might be, but his loyalty lies firmly with the realm. A rarity, I have found. 

“A fanatic, your Majesty?” he squeaks. “What-er-what do you mean?” 

“Oh you know,” I wave my hand impatiently. “The type who never drinks or dances or laughs. Who always has their knees bent before some alter or another. Who cannot breathe without fearing for our souls.” 

My mother is shaking her head. As a child I loved to make her laugh. It was not a difficult task, my mother, for all her heartache, is a woman with a happy disposition. 

Rufus blinks his great eyes at me. “As far as I’m aware, sire, she possesses a perfectly…adequate…level of piety.” He looks to my mother for help but finds none. 

“You are going to be the death of him, Edward,” she says instead. 

My grin widens. “Come now, it was a fair question was it not?” I turn to Rufus knowing full well that he will splutter, unsure of what to say. And he does just that. “I don’t want to be stuck with a bore now do I?” 

“There are slightly more important factors to consider here my son, as I’m sure you are aware.” 

I am. Painfully so. I must marry Princess Analeigh whether she is a humourless hag or not. As with my mother and father, the alliance is a good one, and we are too weak to survive without it right now. Still, knowing all this, I cannot help but hesitate, especially when I see my father’s handwriting on the pages before me. He orchestrated the match, wrote most of the contract himself. But however unconcerned I may appear on the outside, I have spent hours pouring over these words and, grudgingly, I can find no fault in them. 

I sigh, resigned, stretching out my hand and dipping my quill in ink. 

“You’ll sign?” Rufus sounds half-relieved and half-shocked. Clearly he expected me to be more trouble. I try to hide my amusement. I know that my reputation is that of a scoundrel. A spoiled youth who drinks and gambles and whores. They think me ignorant. They think me incapable—the great men who have gathered in this court over the years. I don’t mind. Let them underestimate me. It will make it all the easier to knock them down.

My hand hovers over the parchment, the quill threatening to drip. I look back up at my mother, she is all in black, in mourning. It doesn’t suit her. Even in death my father is controlling us. What we wear. Who we marry. 

“This is the last time,” I don’t know why I say it out loud. I suppose to make the promise feel more real. He will not pull our strings again.

“The last time, your majesty?” Rufus asks, looking between us in utter confusion. 

My attention is not on him though, my eyes locked with my mother’s. She does not even flinch. 

“Yes,” she says, knowingly. “The last time.” 

I nod, returning to the contract while Rufus’s distress continues to mount. He has missed something, he knows it, and he does not like it. Finally, I let the quill touch the parchment, my hand moving swiftly along the familiar path of my name. 

“There,” I say, feeling the opposite of relief as I lean back in my chair and push it away from me. “It’s done.” 

Not my best line, I’ll admit it, and not even true. This is only the beginning. For a moment I think I catch a glimpse of my father hovering in the corner of the room—just the tail of his robes as he storms out the door, followed by the grizzled noise of his laugh. In my memories he is always old—old and bitter. I swallow, blinking the ghost out of my eyes as I sit up straighter. I do not know if I will make a better king, but gods, I hope I make a better man. 

“Excellent,” Rufus mutters, gathering up the papers. “Excellent, excellent, I’ll deliver these to the envoy and then things can proceed.” He slides from the wooden chair, the table nearly as high as his chest and when he bows his upper half disappears completely. 

“Your majesty,” he says as he re-emerges, “with your leave…” he looks towards the door. 

“Yes, of course, go about your business Rufus.” He starts backing away before the words are even fully out of my mouth, moving so quickly that I am shocked he does not trip. After the door closes we sit in silence, my mother with her eyes on me and me with my eyes on the far wall. 

“You look worried.” 

I snort. “Do I? Oh dear, I hope I don’t start to wrinkle.” 

She smiles, but I can tell she will not be so easily placated. “Edward?” 

“Mother.” 

She arches her brow, she has the incredible ability to look at you so thoroughly you feel your skin has been taken off and your insides entirely exposed. 

I sigh, running a hand through my hair as I rise and move towards the window. It is beautiful today—spring has come and the gardens are in full bloom. How I wish I was out hunting instead of caged up in here signing away my life. 

“The church will not be happy,” I say finally. 

“The church?” my mother responds after a brief pause, “Or Addison?”

“Is there a difference?” 

Another pause. I bring my finger up to the glass and begin to trace along the lines. My family’s crest has been meticulously woven through every inch of the palace, the windows no exception. 

“He agreed to the match,” my mother says finally. 

“Yes, but he will not be pleased that I signed it without him.” 

“No,” and I think I hear the slightest hint of amusement in her voice, “he will not.” 

In the last few years of his life, my father had a change of heart in terms of religion. Since before memory the people of Presado have prayed to the Solistic Church. A religion which believes the world was created by four gods who were masters of the elements. Ignis was always my favourite, the god of fire, who watched over battles and was considered the most clever of the four. I still pray to him, though my father’s laws forbid it. The laws that are now my own. 

The trouble really began with his last campaign in the North where a large clan of nomads have claimed territory. My father dreamed of being a conquerer King, dreamed of reclaiming the deserted northern territories from the barbarians. But this turned out to be far more difficult than he expected. 

He returned from the first campaign with only a third of his men, most of whom were injured. Things did not improve from there. After five years of loses and increased violence on the border—for the nomads had begun burning the keeps of the northern lords in retaliation—the nobles pushed back. We’re done, they declared, we will send you no more support, no more troops, no more gold. They were not willing to be wiped out for the sake of one man’s glory. Even if that man was the king. 

My father responded in the only way he knew how—with violence. Executions. Most heavily levied in the North, for they were the loudest denouncers of the war, being the ones closest to the fighting. There was peace with the nomads before, the would argue, can we not return to that? So, of course, my father hung their commanders, their sons, and, sometimes, the lords themselves. In truth, we were on the brink of a civil war when Addison appeared. No one is quite sure where he came from, there had been whispers for a few years about a counter religion but no one put much store in it. Then one day he was here, at my father’s side. He promised men and money, all he wanted in return was a reformation. My father agreed. After all, what had the old gods done for him?

“Edward?” 

I jump at the sound of my name, but I don’t turn around. My fingers still pressed to the glass in front of me, through the coloured panes I can just make out the green grass and manicured trees. 

“Mother.” 

I know the face she’s making even without looking at her. Calm, refined, but with worry in her eyes. And sadness. I sometimes wonder if he put that there, my father, if before him she was all light. I hope that now that he’s gone she will be again. 

“You cannot solve all the worlds problems in a single afternoon my son.” 

I nod as I hear her rise, feel her hand squeeze my shoulder as she passes by on her way to the door. 

“I’m not trying to solve the world’s problems,” I say as I hear it close, “just ours.” 

[rinamars]

I always wondered what fics do my favorite authors read bc maybe if I start reading them too, I'll be able to write like them 😤 Kidding aside, can you recommend some Erwin x Reader fics that you really like/inspire you to write? I'm fine with on-going ones 🤩

little anon i could KISS you!! i've been looking for an excuse to make an erwin fic recs post so here we go *cracks knuckles* brace yourselves heheh (warning: most of these recs are 18+)

first of all: everything @riewritten has ever written. EVERYTHING. that goes without saying. her brain is so big. i wish i could take a trip inside her mind. rie ily

this is a story of the sea by shinzouing is a canonverse eruri x reader fic, where the three enter a relationship (or rather, erwin enters a relationship with both of them. levi and reader are idiots at first. the pining is so delicious though). where do i even begin to talk about this masterpiece? it broke me. it seriously broke me. i'm just going to say that the universe she has created in this story (as well as in the sequel which i'm going to talk about in a sec) feels so real and so right that when i finished it i needed a minute to remind myself what details that are ACTUALLY canon and what aren't. peak writing i swear. heartbreaking, but worth it.

after tiasots has broken your heart, go read beyond the sea by the same author and let it piece it back together!! it's currently being posted, and it's basically the continuation of tiasots BUT erwin survives at shiganshina (unlike in tiasots). again, same thing: peak writing, and a little universe it's sooo easy to get lost in. this story will end up living rent free in your mind, trust me.

aaand also set in the tiasots universe is certain obscure things!! it's three chapters, and in each of them they take turns between being dominant or submissive. this is smut that goes a lot harder than what you can find in tiasots but everything shinzouing writes is pure gold

to complete the eruri x reader category (aka the fics that made me go "i think i might be into the concept of throuples") there's two lovers by feelingthorny. it's also set in canonverse. erwin and levi are in an established relationship, one day they invite reader into their bed, and... Big Feelings ensue. i have another fic by feelingthorny by recommend, and oh man, she truly has a way of writing emotions that is so evocative and poetic, it truly drags you into the moment and you are able to feel exactly what they are feeling, they're so immersive. the smut parts literally drip with body worship, it's insane. beautiful.

the other fic by feelingthorny i HAVE to mention is close call. this one is pwp, but FUCK this erwin is SO DREAMY. and, as one might tell, the writing is just marvelous.

next, i recommend every! single! fic! that belongs to the to build a home series by nylondreams. the romance, the intimacy, the tenderness... ahh, they're so lovely to read. and *cough* the first fic in the series gave me a breeding kink *cough*

more recommendations in the "horny fics that also made me fall in love even more" category: e major, uncorked and treasured memories, all by whatsherquirk. delicious. that's all i'm going to say.

prying eyes by SecretsOfHarprocrates is in my opinion a depiction of erwin that's very close to how he'd behave in canon (if canon included sexy times)

four christmases by ghost_party was !!! ok i don't really know what to say about this one because it's been a while since i read it, but you have to trust me and check it out!!

i think that's all for now, i hope i haven't forgotten anything (if i have i'll just reblog this post and add more). happy reading <3

now PLEASE give me an excuse to make an eruri fic recs post (or even a levi one)

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

I'll Show You "Uptight" (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Adult!Bakugou x Black!Fem!Reader (Coworkers to Lovers) 

Synopsis: In which a very pissed and very emotionally frustrated Bakugou decides he’s not going to let you get away with your lip that easily and pays you a visit one girls’ night to prove to you that he is, indeed, able to be “looser” after you make a drunk comment about his introverted and uptight personality to your mutual friends and Kirishima “accidentally” spills the beans. 

Story Warnings: Smutty smut (MINORS DON’T READ), 18+, AgedUp!Bakugou (he’s 25 years old), Swearing, Grinding, Public Displays of Affection, Mentions of & Consumption of Alcohol, Consensual Sex w/ Verbalization, Foreplay, Public Kink, Manhandling, Mild Degradation, Praise Kink, Daddy Kink, Spit Play, 69ing, Facefucking, Safe Sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT), Edge Play, Spanking, Mild Choking, MULTIPLE Positions, MULTIPLE Orgasms for Reader, Aftercare, Reader is black-coded but anyone can read this 

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you! 

Writer’s Note: Back with another one for y’all and this one is a bit longer. It’ll probably be either 5 or 6 chapters. I came up with this after being on a dancehall/reggae craze lately & thought, “hmm…would Bakugou know how to dance to this shit??” I decided yes & got to writing since I’ve got time before winter break ends. If you wanna listen in on the playlist that inspired me to write this fic, it’s riiiight up in here. I hope y’all enjoy the first chapter! Be safe out there & thank you for reading! -Jazz

Ao3 link here!

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

*********

Chapter One

Bakugou was pissed. 

He didn’t consider himself to be someone who gave a shit about what anyone said. If someone decided to take a jab at him or comment on him in any way, he’d usually just tell them to fuck off and keep it moving. Or, if said jab or comment got back to him from someone else, he’d usually pull up to the bitch who said it and ask them to say it to his face…which they never would. 

Bakugou was a hard nut to crack. Ever since he was in his teens, he was hard edges and a tough exterior, all to hide the softness that resides within him, of course. He hasn’t changed much since graduating from UA and becoming the second most popular pro hero in Japan at age 25. His mom, some mentors of his, and his closest friends are the only ones who are aware of this truth. 

You, however, were not. And that shouldn’t have gotten to him the way it did now, but fuck, it did! He didn’t get what irked him about you so or why he was so hung up on you. He’d only known you for a couple of months since you started working at his agency alongside him and Bakusquad. You weren’t a pro, only working at the front desk, but you were respected as if you are one. 

Maybe it was the way you always give each employee a kind smile when they walked in, brightening up the day. Or maybe it was your work ethic and how you went above and beyond. Or maybe it was the way those pencil skirts and work slacks you wore hugged your ass just right…or maybe that was just Bakugou’s dick talking. Probably. 

Needless to say, you bothered him. But he knew rationally it wasn’t your fault. Whatever it was about you that had him tossing and turning at night, or so tongue-tied that he refused to speak too much to you when you said hello during work hours, or made him blush while on patrol when he so much as thought about your pretty smile or gorgeous skin, was all on him. But dammit, did he want to blame you for all of it! 

But that was only part of the reason why he was so pissed. The main reason why was because you couldn’t seem to keep your pretty mouth shut, especially when you drank. He came to this conclusion one day while he and Denki were coming back from patrols. It was a warm spring day in Musustafu that day, but not enough to have him sweating buckets in his hero’s uniform. 

However, when he got back to his agency and finally stripped himself of the outfit, the air conditioner felt good on his slightly-clammy skin. He sighed in relief, letting the outfit pool to the tiled floors beneath him. “Ah, man,” Denki sighed, stripping off his jacket. “I’ll tell ya, six hours of patrolling is fuckin’ wicked. My feet are killing me!” 

Bakugou had chuckled at his friend’s pain as he stepped out of his outfit, only in his Calvin Klein briefs. “That’s why I chose you for patrols today,” he smirked. “Gotta do something besides flirt with Jirou on FT.” 

Denki gaped at him. “Hey!” he shouted. “That ain’t true! And at least I got someone to flirt with. All you’ve got are those cute little FunkoPops you hide behind your desk.” Bakugou shot him a death glare as he grabbed the extra water bottle out of his locker, earning a shit-eating grin from Denki. “You’re a Sailor Moon fan, eh?” he hummed. 

“Fuck off!” Bakugou growled, just as Kirishima and Sero walked into the room.

“Uh-uh, no killing each other right now,” Sero groaned as he sat down on the bench between the row of lockers. “I haven’t eaten yet and it’s all I can focus on.” 

“We wanted to come and get you guys first,” Kiri says as he sits down closer to Bakugou, legs open in his sweats and wiping his face with a towel. They must have just come from the gym/spa downstairs that Bakugou was hellbent on getting built. “You guys up for ramen?” 

“Hell yes!” Denki practically shouted, now in his undershirt and briefs. “Just let me get a shower in and I’m good. I could use some spicy miso.” 

Kiri grinned happily, all sharp, white teeth. “What about you, Bakubro?” he chirped. “You comin’ with this time?” 

Bakugou glanced at his friends as he took some Native deodorant out of his locker, slathering some on. He’d make sure he showered after coming back from lunch. “Sure, why not?” he grumbled, expecting some kind of cheer between his friends…but there was nothing. 

At the sound of sheer silence, he glanced up at his friends to see them all gaping at him. “What?” he growled.

Denki blinked at him, alarmed. “Do my ears deceive me?” he gasped teasingly. “Is it snowing outside? Bakugou, going out with us? You never go out with us!” 

“Yeah,” Bakugou agreed, irked as he puts on a pair of active Nike joggers to hide his muscled legs and thighs. “Because you guys are fuckin’ embarrassing. Plus, sometimes I just prefer to eat in my office. It’s better privacy.” 

“And better company,” Denki snickered. “I bet those FunkoPops really listen to you.” Sero guffawed into his hand, but at the sight of Bakugou’s death stare, he clamped up. 

“I guess that means you’d be up for going out with us tonight for drinks?” Kiri asked hopefully. “They’re having happy hour. C’mon, it’s a Friday!” 

Bakugou would have asked if you’d be joining them, but he didn’t think so. From the way Kiri put it, it was a guys’ night thing. And even if you were, he still probably wouldn’t have gone. He isn’t much of a “social” person if you couldn’t tell. Instead of downing shots at a bar, he prefers to drink from his private bar at home.

And clubbing? Partying? Forget it. His kind of part is smoking a blunt, watching a good movie, and falling asleep on his big ass couch. 

He could tell Kiri knew his answer before he even said it: “Nah. Besides, you know how I feel about those Friday night crowds. They’re–” 

“We know, we know,” Kiri groaned, rolling his crimson eyes. “They’re too rowdy. Too sloppy. Too this, too that.” He crossed his big, tattooed arms over his broad chest, fixing Bakugou with a tight glare. “And yet, they’re havin’ fun too! C’mon, Bakugou! When’s the last time you’ve gone out with us to celebrate just because? When’s the last time you’ve had fun?” 

Fun. He said it as if the word was foreign to Bakugou and that pissed him off even more. He had fun…just not in the social sense. He didn’t see the need in partying on the weekends and socializing with people at a club that you’ll never see again. Plus, to spend even one hour in a crowd of drunk bar hoppers was less than ideal for him. But he didn’t answer Kiri as he pulled on a Nike sweatshirt, then began to dig into his locker for his socks. 

Kiri groaned, exasperated. “Ugh, so boring!” he dramatically whined. “Now I can see why Y/N she’d never date you.”

He let out an audible gasp at that moment, quickly clamping a hand over his mouth just as Bakugou slowly raised his head out of his locker at the mention of your name. 

Slowly, he turned to stare at his friend who looked redder than his hair, then at Denki and Sero who looked like they were writing Kiri’s obituary in their heads. The locker room swelled with tense silence as Bakugou processed Kiri’s words on an empty stomach. You? Dating him?

You’d never…date him? 

“What did you say?” he questioned, staring down at Kiri. His friend said nothing, eyes wide and horrified.

“You said Y/N would never date me?” he parroted, more confused than he is upset…well, upset too. Why would you say something like that? And where the fuck is the context? 

“Why?” Bakugou asked, just as shocked at the question as his friends were. But it wasn’t so much at the question, but the way he said it: Confusedly. Sadly. Like he gave a shit. And goddammit, he did. And he does! 

Kiri looked at Sero and Denki, silently asking whether or not he should continue. Sero shrugged while Denki gave him a silent, tight-lipped nod. Kiri turned to Bakugou and began to explain, going into great detail about the context of the conversation. It went something like this: 

“Okay, okay, okay,” Mina drunkenly said, a round of tequila shots in her body. “Next question: what pro hero would you date and why? And no one is off limits.” 

‘No one, shorty?” Kiri smirked down at her, earning a glossy kiss on the cheek from Mina that made you coo and melt from the cuteness. Mina sat in a booth squished between Y/N and Kiri, an arm slung over the back of his seat while Sero and Denki took the other side. 

This was last week on a Friday night where the Mexican restaurant they occupied was packed with a younger crowd looking for food and fun. You were there, looking pretty in your cherry red work dress that you paired with some flats before leaving work that day.

“We’ll start with you, Sero,” Mina said, nodding at the black-haired pro. He thought for a minute, sucking on a lime absentmindedly as Denki secretly stole a chip and some guacamole of his plate. “If we weren’t friends, definitely you and Y/N,” he decided. 

“Awww!” you had cooed, sipping from your margarita. From the hooded gaze you were giving them and the way you laughed a little too hard at things, it was obvious you were feeling the alcohol now. “That’s so sweet!” 

“Denki?” Mina hummed, raising a brow. “You got some choices if you weren’t dating Jirou?” 

Denki smirked at her from across the table. “Very dangerous question, but you,” he replied easily. “Y/N…probably Momo if she wasn’t with Todoroki. And Toru.” 

“How’d that work?” Sero asked, confused. “You can’t even see her! How the fuck would you know where to kiss her?” 

“Guess you’d just have to kiss her everywhere till you find out,” Mina mischievously replied, wiggling her brows at the now-blushing duo. “Y/N?” she sing-songed, nudging your arm. “Your turn. What pro would you date and why?” 

“Trust and believe if it’s me, you’re leaving with me tonight.” Sero winked at you, making you laugh and Mina roll her eyes. You didn’t mind Sero’s flirting or their antics, their warm personalities making you feel so much a part of their group. 

“Hmm, I guess it’d be…” You hummed to yourself, cutely tapping one manicured finger against your plump, glossed lip. “Probably you, Kiri.” You looked at the redhead who grinned in triumph and bashfully. “And maybe Hawks if he didn’t have them big ass wings. Where does he put ‘em during sex?” 

At this, Denki and Sero laughed. “Interesting,” Mina hummed. “I would’ve sworn you’d say Bakugou since the guy is crazy about you.” You stopped short of sipping your margarita, the glass halfway to your lips. “Uh…what?” you asked slowly, turning to stare at Mina. 

“Bakugou likes you,” she repeated, tilting her head curiously. “Didn’t ya know? Shit, we all knew even though he tries to play it off like he doesn’t. Bakugou is like that sometimes.” 

The look on your face was honestly hilarious–wide eyes, mouth parted in shock at this new information. Finally, you laughed, shaking your head. “No,” you said, disbelieving. “That’s definitely not true. Bakugou don’t even speak to me!” 

“Does he have to?” Kiri asked, confused. “I mean, the dude doesn’t really talk to anyone except us. But in your case, he’s just not good with talkin’ to pretty girls. Call him emotionally constipated.” The table erupted into laughter again, except for you, still reeling from Mina’s words. 

“But…” you began, trying to reason, “but he’s so…serious.” You sat back in your seat, drink in your hand. “But even if he did like me, hypothetically speaking,” you continue, “I wouldn’t date him.” 

Silence settled on the table, the air thick with anticipation. “How come?” Mina asked, actually sounding sad about your answer. “I think you’d be so cute together!” 

“Look, he’s a nice-looking guy, don’t get me wrong,” you began to explain, “but he’s just too serious, as I said. He barely smiles, always giving me a scowl. Are you sure he doesn’t hate me?” Kiri laughed, shaking his head. “Nah, cutie. He doesn’t hate you. Like I said, the guy is emotionally constipated.” 

“You’re telling me,” you scoffed before licking some sugar off the rim of your glass. “I don’t even think I’ve ever seen him show any emotion but distaste or anger. Plus, he seems way too uptight for me.” 

“In what way?” Sero asked, slapping Denki’s hand when he tries to sneak another chip off his friend’s plate. You shrugged, looking down momentarily to gather your thoughts. “Well, for one, he barely goes out with us, and the one time he did, he sat down on his phone the whole time.” 

The rest of the squad remembered that night: it was at Denki’s annual NYE party at Hotspot, one of the hottest clubs in downtown Musutafu. The drinks were plentiful, the music was jumping, and you looked downright delectable in the little sequin skirt that shimmered every time you swayed those hips and bent over to throw ass onto the girls and Sero (with your consent, of course).

All except Bakugou, who sat firmly in his chair on his phone despite people asking him to dance so many times throughout the night. 

“He kept looking at you that night,” Mina giggled. “Mans couldn’t keep his eyes off of you.” 

“Then he could’ve at least danced with me,” you replied. “But he didn’t! I can’t be with a guy like that. Sure, I love those nights in the crib and some good cuddling, but if I wanna go dancing or something, how can I take him out?” You sipped your drink with finality. “I need someone who’s looser–and I just don’t think Bakugou is that someone for me.” 

When Kiri finished the story, he looked at Bakugou like the man was close to jumping someone. And he was. His mind was on you, jumping your bones and finding out why the fuck you felt that way about him.

He was holding the door to his locker so hard that his knuckles were white. “Why would she say that?” he snapped. “She doesn’t even know me!” 

“Well, shit, Katsuki,” Sero spoke up, “it’s because you never gave the girl a chance to know you! You barely go out with us anymore, especially when she’s with us.” 

“And it doesn’t help when you barely speak to her,” Denki added. “Of course, she’s gonna think you’re uptight!” 

Bakugou was at a loss for words because they were all right. Dammit, he hated to admit it and he never would aloud, but all of them were right. But what they and you didn’t understand was that he never danced at Denki’s NYE party that night because he was so afraid of popping a hard-on in front of you. After staring you down the entire night, wondering what your ass felt like in his hands, it was difficult not to become rock-hard. Sitting down was the only way to avoid that.

To add to that, he was always afraid of saying the wrong thing to you, so he always kept your conversations short. He kept his distance to avoid embarrassing himself and yet he felt embarrassed standing in that locker room. 

“She thinks you hate her, man,” Kiri added. “Seriously. I told her you don’t, but the girl is convinced.”

Katsuki felt like hitting himself with the locker door. “Fuck!” he hissed. “Now what the fuck do I do?” Was there anything he could do at this point? What if he epically fucked this up? What if he never got the chance to feel you pressed against him or feel your soft lips on his? 

Denki rose from his seat and sauntered over, throwing an elbow over Katuski’s locker. “Well,” he began, “and this is just a suggestion, so hear me out: you could always just show the girl that you’re no uptight or a dickhead.” 

Katsuki scowled at him. “How the fuck would I do that?” 

“It’s simple!” Sero jumped in. “Next time we all go out to shoot the shit, and Mina and Y/N come along, you come with us and act like you actually wanna be around us. Including her.” He clapped once, standing up from his seat. “Problem solved! Now are we going to lunch or do I have to eat one of you?” 

As the three idiots argued among themselves, Katsuki got to thinking about Denki and Sero’s advice…and then out of his mind popped the best idea ever. It was just too perfect. Of course, he could show you that he wasn’t uptight. He could shove your words right back down your pretty throat and admit how he felt about you all at the same time. 

He instantly whipped around to slam his locker door shut, causing the guys to jump. “Y/N and Mina comin’ with tonight?” he asked, looking at Kiri for an answer.

The redhead shook his head. “Naw, Mina said she and Y/N are joining the girls for girls’ night. They’re goin’ to a club, apparently.” 

“What club?” Bakugou asked, trying not to sound too desperate, but Kiri had laser vision for this type of shit. “Dunno,” he answered, “and even if I did, I’d tell you not to go. It’s a girls’ night, K. You really wanna crash that?” 

“Shit, yeah!” Denki hollered excitedly. “Just tell me when and where. I’ll go with.”

Sero grinned, just as down. “Me too. I could use a little adventure and drama.” He looked at Katsuki who had an almost crazed look in his eye as his plan began to map itself in his brain. “Why? What’d you have in mind?” 

Katsuki just smirked deviously in response, because by the end of tonight, you were gonna regret drinking those tequila shots and talking shit about him to his friends.

He was gonna make sure of it.

[amethystina]

hello :] !! i read ‘who holds the devil’ last month, it came to me when i was having a hard time in my life; when i was in a desperate need to forget everything around and ahead of me…your story did JUST THAT i was so utterly mesmerized and invested in your incredible storytelling and the absolute justice you did to complicated characters such as our yohan and gaon. i’ve read your snippets of yohan’s povs too and i really hope you write them more in the future, it’s so interesting to see his brain work and just how different his understanding of their relationship is…

i haven’t been able to stop thinking about your fic and i’ve already re read it countless times (like i kid you not i wake up every day and check if you’ve updated i’m that down bad) i just wanted to thank you for creating such a masterpiece, you’re a blessing and i hope you’re doing well 🫶🏻 i’m eagerly waiting to see what gaon and yohan has in store for them !!🫶🏻

I'm so sorry to hear that you were having a hard time, but I'm glad that my fic was able to offer you some comfort, at least. Sometimes, it really does help to have something else to focus on when things are rough. I hope things are better now, at least 💜

One of the main reasons why I even started writing this fic was because I realised that I wanted their story to continue but also that I had such a specific idea of how I wanted it to play out — and how I wanted the characters to behave — that the only way for me to get that was to write it myself. And I just love the characters so much that I couldn't help wanting to explore them and their story further, with as much detail and accuracy as possible. We were left with so many possibilities after the end of the drama! And so much trauma to unpack and heal from! I had to see how that would play out ;)

I'm glad you like Yo Han's POV 💜 Unfortunately, I'm not sure how much of his POV I'll write for that particular story since showing his thoughts kind of ruins the suspense of it all. Like, a part of the mystery is that Ga On doesn't know what Yo Han is thinking and, by extension, neither does the reader. Yo Han isn't supposed to be an easy man to read. Also, while Yo Han's POV is a lot of fun for me to write, it also makes me nervous. Because he's a lot of people's favourite character and my interpretation of what his thoughts and actions are like might not align with their ideas. Which is totally fine! We can all have different opinions. But some people can get pretty heated if he's not written in a way they approve of, or if he's portrayed in a way they don't think is flattering enough. So it's just less drama for me if I don't write Yo Han's POV too often xD

But I agree that it's very interesting! He does view their relationship quite differently and, just like Ga On, he has a lot of struggles and things he's feeling insecure about (especially right now considering everything that's happened). His doubts are just not as apparent since we don't see his thoughts. But trust me when I say that he has a lot of thoughts.

I almost feel like I should apologise. I swear I'm not trying to make you all so addicted to this fic, it just seems to happen x'D But I am of course delighted to hear that you're enjoying it! And I'm very grateful that you took the time to tell me. It means a lot 💜

I'm not doing the best, unfortunately, but I'm hanging in there. And I'm hoping to be able to write some on chapter 42 this coming weekend, in between all the household chores I have to get done. We'll see how it goes!

Please take care and thank you so much for the lovely compliments! 💜

[fairydares]

Reminiscing on the Hard Road (A Gruvia Fic)

Rating: M

Summary: While on his way to a mission, Gray reflects on the hardships, tears, battles, and triumphs which led to him and Juvia finding their happiness together. (Or: the story of how they finally, officially got together told through memories).

AO3 Link ; FFNet Link

Words: ~8,000

Warnings: Please read with caution as this contains adult themes & situations (though nothing explicit). Also swearing and allusions to mental illness, dissociation and depression symptoms especially. Man this feels like the end of a drug commercial. Enjoy!

AN: I realized how long it'd been since I updated Chasing Tails and was feeling really bad about it. I'm so sorry, guys! I've just been really busy! I don't have time to get Chapter 5 up tonight, but I do have the time to share this Gruvia piece I wrote a while ago as a karmic sort of apology.

With that in mind, this is a bit of a rough, long one-shot. It comes from a chapter in a larger, mostly Nalu-focused fic which I may or may not ever actually finish writing. Sooo it's not even really a one-shot so much as it's, like, a segment of a chapter from one. I also barely had time to clean it up ever so slightly.

However, I thought Gruvia fans would appreciate anyway. Maybe one day, I'll write the whole thing because I honestly think it could be a story, or maybe a series of drabbles? This is all you kids get for now, though, lol. no fucks given (just kidding this will keep me up nights.)

o(O)o

Ignoring Natsu's whining about still being motion sick from beside him, Gray buried his hands in his pockets and let his eyes engage in their favorite past-time: roaming the curves of the blue-haired woman walking in front of him.

Him and Juvia had officially been together for over half a year, but his eyes still snagged on the same places they always had. The sway of her blue hair, now long enough to partly obscure the pinch of her waist and flare of her hips with each swish. The pretty, cute flush that lived on her cheeks as she listened attentively to Erza, who was chattering about a famous desert shop in the area. The way shadow and light shifted over the curve of her rear. And—forever his most favorite—the exposed skin of her legs. Long, toned, moon white...and fucking perfect.

Gray felt his cheeks heat, but couldn't find it in himself to drag his eyes away. The solidness and length of their relationship did absolutely nothing to diminish the novelty of her beauty, like he might once have feared it would. Instead, it hypnotized him more surely than ever. Noticing all the men drooling over her figure as they walked past, Gray was aware of the sting of possessiveness and annoyance which rose in his chest, but was also easily able to ignore it.

He was as comfortable as any guy with a stunning girlfriend could be in his own jealousy, these days. More shockingly, so was Juvia, a fact that was plain from the way she shot only perfunctory glares at the women eyeing him and whispering to each other as they passed.

As he stared at her back, his lips quirked ever so slightly. It had taken time, tears, and work—more work than he could ever have anticipated—to get to this point in their relationship. But work had never been more worth it.

His mind wandered to reminiscence. To where it had all started, when they had started, after the 100-Year Quest had ended and he'd finally—with Lucy, Levy, and Erza's help—managed to ask Juvia to be his girlfriend.

"Not just 'yours'," Levy had insisted, explaining that phrasing would confuse her. "Your girlfriend."

He'd actually fought them on it. Not really because he had a problem with commitment anymore (okay, it was a little embarrassing, but not too much) but because the words "girlfriend" and "boyfriend" felt ridiculous, considering everything they'd been through. How deeply he cared about her. For crying out loud, they'd tried to kill themselves for each other. He'd kill for her, die for her, and—most importantly—he would live for her. Beyond making his ears feel like they were going to melt off, the word "girlfriend" felt trite.

But when Lucy and Levy demanded to know if that meant he was going to propose, he'd balked. Actually, having the m-word shoved right up against his nose kind of made his soul flee his body. As ready as he was for a romantic relationship, he wanted to go through the actual experience of having one. Like, with all the steps involved. In order. He was at the point in his life that he wanted it more than anything.

More importantly, he wanted to give Juvia that experience. He was determined to do right by her.

With the girls' reality check, and the point they'd made that ambiguity might make Juvia jump to the wrong conclusion or even hurt her, they'd convinced him. He'd been committed to making his long-awaited confession as special for Juvia as possible, complete with saying any embarrassing words she wanted to hear.

Gray still hadn't felt worthy of the love she gave him. He still struggled to believe he was a man who could protect her. But after everything he'd been through during the 100-Year-Quest, seeing how much she'd missed him the whole time, and his talk with Juvina-sama, he'd understood it was completely unfair to ask Juvia to wait for him to decide he was worthy enough to love her openly. He also wasn't above admitting that Juvina-sama's suggestion that she wouldn't wait forever had disquieted some irrational part of him enough to make him antsy, impatient to make absolutely sure they were exclusive.

He'd been completely flustered throughout his confession, but known it had gone as right as it could. Lucy, Levy, and Erza—who thought they'd been slick, hiding in a nearby bush to watch him confess—had agreed. (Lucy had annoyed him to no end by teasing him over how "adorable" he'd been.)

And yet...Juvia's response hadn't been quite what Gray hoped. Lucy hadn't noticed it, but he had. He didn't know exactly when it had happened, but at some point, he'd learned to read the Water Mage like an open book. For how sincere a person she was—a trait he was all too familiar with—Juvia could also be surprising, even mysterious. As transient as water, with hidden depths you'd never know a thing about unless you were willing to dive beneath the surface.

When Gray confessed, he'd braced himself for joyous screaming. He'd planned to freeze a literal flood of tears before it could wash them both away. He'd been prepared to get a concussion from how hard she'd glomp him in the street. But while she had said yes, demurely accepted the roses, and hugged him plenty tight...her response had been subdued. In hindsight, he could see the pattern her reaction fit: the way her gaze had dropped to the street despite her happy flush, the hesitant, nervous gleam in her eyes, the limited verbal response.

The only times she'd ever acted that way had been when he actually reciprocated some of her affection. When he'd promised to give her a straight answer, after he defeated END. When he'd given her a one-armed hug and said he was glad her "body" was safe, after he'd saved her from that wood bastard.

Something had been wrong. But when the girls who'd spied on him only gushed afterwards, not seeming to have noticed anything off, he'd shrugged off his concerns, assuming it was his own lack of romantic literacy. He'd been nervous, but also really excited to learn.

But as their relationship officially began...it quickly became obvious that there was a problem, and that a one-sided approach to fixing it just wasn't going to cut it.

Juvia had always been prone to mood swings severe enough to make Gray's head spin, but as soon as they started dating, her mood seemed to sink. He'd try to ask her about it only for her to put on an obviously fake, cheery front and insist she was fine.

At first, he was sure it must be his fault. He'd had no idea what he was doing wrong. At that point, the guilt he felt for not taking Juvia's feelings seriously for so long, for abandoning her in Amefurashi Village, and for nearly letting her die in an attempt to save him had been taking a serious toll on him. The guilt had sometimes left him ragged. Every time she seemed down, he beat himself up and tried to do better. Talking, dates, spending time together (even when it meant ditching missions he really wanted to go on with the team), accepting her gifts and acting happy about them (no matter how much they creeped him out).

But the more he'd tried to make up for everything, the worse it seemed to get. He watched her frustration rise as he tried to be more openly affectionate, her denials that she was frustrated getting louder. More and more, she gave, but when he gave back, she'd look ready to explode or burst into tears.

What had made everything come to a head was the sex. A surprise in itself. For all the ways their relationship had suffered, sex had never been one of them. It'd started back in the cabin they shared in Amefurashi Village. From the first night they'd moved in together, Juvia had not-so-surprisingly tried to edge her way into Gray's bed constantly. She'd use excuses of cold weather, make puppy eyes, and sew nauseatingly pink coupley bed sheets to try to lure him (when, he still had no idea).

Meanwhile, he struggled more and more to pretend he didn't find (most of) her antics adorable. Not to mention incredibly tempting. Things escalated to where he'd feel his excitement rising towards the end of their daily training sessions, to the point his body became conditioned to react when he saw the damn sun set.

He also felt increasing dread at the notion of having to turn Juvia down—and for having to sneak out in the middle of every night to "take care" of the problem she always left him with (cold showers didn't exactly work for an Ice Wizard).

Finally, one night, she'd pouted and whined that she was sore from training and begged for a massage. Gray didn't know if it was the fact she was asking him for something instead of offering; the unbelievably cute, sparkly-eyed, hopeful glances she kept sneaking at him; or the fact he could tell she actually was sore from the way her face would pinch as she attempted to stretch provocatively in front of him, but his resolve had shattered.

Before he could think and without a word, he'd lifted his covers and held her gaze, not bothering to hide the dark promise in his eyes.

Her reaction had been priceless. He'd never forget it.

His acceptance seemed to knock the breath straight out of her. Her eyes had gone round as saucers, staring into his eyes like she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Her cheeks had darkened. She'd stood stunned for so long that he'd started to get nervous, wondering if she'd only been being playful all this time, not really meaning to come on to him or maybe not expecting him to ever accept. But just as he'd been trying to field the disappointment sinking his heart and trying to think of how to promise he wouldn't do anything she didn't want, she'd hesitantly approached the bed, trembling.

After giving her the massage she'd asked for, he'd rewarded her bravery three times over.

After that, for the very first time, the dynamic of their relationship shifted in one, important way—the one which would force him to finally confront his own heart:

In terms of their physical relationship, he became the more dominant one. In this one aspect of their shared life, he chased. Gray flustered Juvia. He hadn't been able to get enough. What had once been a relentless, one-sided pursuit (one where she had, admittedly, been gaining on him without his notice) became a dance which had addicted him before he knew it.

The notion of reciprocating her feelings had once had him running for the hills. So it had been a huge shock to learn just how much he liked it.

She was so obviously happy and disbelieving that first time he slipped her clothes off in the moonlit dark, cursing over her beauty. Utterly awestruck when he'd seen to her pleasure (twice, he still liked to remember proudly) before even considering his own. Sex was the first time he heard her speak in the first-person, the first time she said his name without adding "-sama" (since that battle in the rain, anyway.)

It was when he lost himself in her soft skin, her passion, and her pleasure that some part of him was able to accept the truth she'd had the grace to surrender to from the very beginning.

The shift in their sex life was also when he'd started to twig something wasn't right between them. After Alvarez was when he'd started it back up. His plan had been to wait until he was able to reciprocate her feelings verbally, like he'd promised, but almost losing her had broken him in a way some part of him would never truly recover from. Between that and his final, full acceptance of his own feelings, there'd been no restraining himself. He'd come onto her with all the subtlety of a freight train the second they were alone.

Even then, something hadn't been quite right. She hadn't been herself, quiet enough that—even as...compromised as his critical thinking skills had been, at the time, and even in his heightened emotional state—he'd noticed. He'd pulled back and asked if she was okay, but when her response had simply been to drag him back in for a kiss that made his knees weak, he'd taken it as a yes and matched her passion enthusiastically.

She kept staying quiet in bed. It bothered the hell out of him, and he badgered her about it more than once, but would ultimately let it go when she insisted she was fine. In his defense, there had been a lot of reasons she could've become subdued. They had just fought a war. They were all exhausted from fixing the town and working to build peace in Fiore.

But after the 100-Year Quest and after his confession, she got even weirder. He noticed it all the time, in every aspect of their relationship, but it was especially noticeable in bed, when they were so close to each other, both completely vulnerable.

When they'd cohabitated, he'd almost always been the one to start something. He'd enjoyed that. He'd even (hell, especially) enjoyed the way she'd flirt, pretend to be oblivious to his advances, pout and blush and make him impress her, coax him to the brink of losing his mind before finally caving to both of their desires. Those times where he went from prey to predator had balanced their entire relationship, satisfying both of them.

Gray wasn't some slimeball who needed sex, but he did need some balance in their dynamic. The private, physical side of their relationship was just where it'd happened to play out. It could've played out anywhere in their relationship, if they were off sex for a while for whatever reason.

But as soon as they became official, it became clear she'd fight tooth and nail to make sure that never happened.

She came onto him. Every. Single. Time. He'd been a little surprised, but happy enough. At first. But as he pushed her to talk to him harder and she denied louder, he'd started to guess that something was genuinely, really wrong.

She didn't speak in the first-person when they were intimate, any more. She didn't drop the "-sama." Even worse, he started to suspect she was seducing him even when she wasn't really in the mood. Almost like she felt like she had to.

It had been one such time when he finally flipped his shit. Even now, walking behind her and appreciating her curves, the memory made his mood falter a little.

He regretted how he'd handled things. It shamed him to remember how he'd all but shoved her off him and refused to do anything else with her until she was ready to tell him whatever the hell was going on inside that crazy, watery head of hers. It was an ultimatum. A cruelly-put one, at that. He hadn't realized just how hurt and angry he was until the words flew out of his mouth.

Juvia had opened up, alright.

In fact, she'd exploded.

They'd screamed at each other, horrible things Gray could hardly stand to repeat even in his own head. She'd demanded that he quit wasting both their time and leave her again, like they both knew he would. He'd asked how stupid she could be to think he'd do that, when he was obviously dedicated enough to put up with her psycho stalker gifts. She'd retorted that her "psycho stalker gifts" didn't seem to have any affect on his libido. He'd yelled that she was the one jumping his bones, ever since he'd asked her out. She'd said that was because she actually cared about his happiness, implying that was something he'd never understand.

She'd ended the black, ugly fight with four hoarse words that ripped his heart out of his chest: "This is over, Gray-sama!"

His apartment door had slammed behind her.

He'd been too shocked and devastated to do anything but watch her go, not even managing to stagger to the door and chase after her until she was long-gone. Black curse power had swirled across his skin as he pelted to the guild, growling in frustration when he didn't find her there. Then he'd run all the way to the female dorms at Fairy Hills only to be deterred by Erza, who met him at the gate. She hadn't known anything about his and Juvia's fight, but she'd been drawn by his yelling.

His older sister figure had knocked him out "for his own good."

The next afternoon, Gray had woken up in his own bed. Not bothering to see if he was dressed (it would turn out he wasn't) he'd booked straight to the guild only to be devastated by the news that Juvia had taken a long-term S-class quest just that morning, news which was delivered by a sympathetic Mira.

Sure that it was over, that he'd ruined everything, he'd drunk himself sick—then kept drinking, swinging fists at anyone and everyone who tried to console him until, finally, in the wee hours of the next morning, Gajeel managed to knock him out of it.

The hostility, Gray had expected. Gajeel was Juvia's best friend; of course he was angry to learn that Gray had done something to upset her so much, she'd left for a Quest that could take months or even years to finish without so much as a word to Gajeel or any of their other comrades.

What did surprise Gray was the understanding Gajeel eventually showed.

Gray got his ass knocked flat by the Iron Dragon Slayer. From his back on the ground, he started to spit out what happened. With each word, the larger man had visibly calmed. After enough had come out, he'd awkwardly helped Gray to his feet (his own, gruff brand of apology.) He'd helped Gray sober up, then he'd given him a pep talk.

He'd refused to explain his own guesses as to what was going on with Juvia, insisting "who knows what goes on in that water witch's head." But he'd also insisted that whatever was going on, it for damn sure wasn't what Gray thought, which was that he'd hurt her too badly for her to love him anymore.

"She's obsessed with you," the man had said, scowling in disgust. "She's always been obsessed with you. She's way too stubborn to let it go that easy. It's annoying."

By six AM, Gajeel Redfox—of all people—had talked Gray into chasing after the love of his life. He'd even used his Iron Magic to create a lockpick which got them into the archive room, where they'd found Mira's records...and Juvia's location.

He'd barely had the time to register the irony of her quest's location before he was gone, shooting Gajeel a gruff "thanks" over his shoulder and running home to pack.

It'd been raining when he finally walked into Amefurashi Village.

He hadn't consciously known where to start looking when he arrived, but his feet—following some combination of muscle memory and the fate he'd fought for so long—had carried him to the place where the word "home" had changed for him: the cabin he and Juvia had shared. Where they'd grown together. Taken care of each other.

Where he'd left her. Hurt her. Even if most of the reason to do so was because he wanted to protect her, he couldn't stop hating himself for that.

She was standing outside the place, drenched and shivering, when he got there. As if sensing his arrival as surely as he'd known where to find her, Juvia had turned to look at Gray with eyes that were glassy above flushed cheeks. She'd wavered on her feet.

As soon as she'd whispered his name, she'd toppled. Gray's bag had landed in a puddle with a splashy thunk. He'd lunged to catch her like his life depended on it.

Shouting her name had earned him no response, but pressing the back of his hand to her forehead had been enough to convince him that she had a seriously high fever.

Strangely, as worried as he'd been about her, he hadn't even thought to bring her back to Wendy or seek a nearer healer. In hindsight, he was sure that deep down, he'd realized it would do no good; she wasn't physically ill, but heartsick, just as he was. He'd felt lower than the mud gathering around his boots.

He'd been surprised to discover that he had to break into their old home, and rapidly deduced that Juvia hadn't been staying at their old cabin even though she'd been standing outside of it, both from that fact and the fact that none of her stuff was there.

As soon as he lay her in the bed which had once been his before becoming theirs, she'd begun shivering. For the first time in his life, Gray cursed that he was an Ice Wizard instead of a Fire Wizard.

He'd run outside, grabbed his bag, then come back in��only to curse again when he unclasped the bag only to discover that all its contents were soaked. Thinking quickly, he'd stripped his wet clothes, then hers. He'd climbed into bed with her.

"'M sorry, Gray-sama..." she'd slurred her sleep. "Juvia's so sorry...Juvia had to...I just had to..."

He'd shushed her, rubbing her arms to try to warm her up. "It's okay, Juvia. I know, my love. It's okay..."

He'd kept holding her and whispering soft comfort to her until she'd finally stopped shivering, at which point his frantic worry had abated enough that he could fully admit to himself how good it felt to have her in his arms, her skin against his. How warm she was. How perfectly she fit against him. How much he missed her. She was right there, as close as another person could ever be to him. Yet with how things had been between them lately and how lost she was to fever, he'd never felt further away.

Apparently, he'd fallen asleep at some point, because when he awoke, it was to the rising sun blazing at him from the center of the cabin window. Ignoring his body's reaction to waking up in the arms of the very naked, beautiful woman he happened to be in love with, Gray had instantly dropped his hand to Juvia's forehead, sighing in relief when it became clear her fever had reduced. She wasn't better, but she was getting there.

Quickly figuring out what needed done, he'd dropped a tender kiss to her warm forehead, murmuring a threat against her sweaty hairline: "You'd better not even think of running away again, crazy woman. We are going to talk when I get back."

Gray had dressed, glanced back, and left. He'd met up with he client—a rich and unfortunately good-looking asshole about Gray's age who was way too disappointed Juvia, herself, wasn't the one who'd shown up. Through gritted teeth, Gray informed the bastard it would be a couple days before he and his partner (he was sure to emphasize those words several times) would be able to begin investigating the dark guild threatening the area, as she'd fallen ill.

It annoyed him to no end that the creep seemed genuinely concerned about this, trying to insert himself, demand to see her, and attempting to coax Gray into revealing her location (Gray couldn't help the pleasure and hope which rose in his chest, when he learned she hadn't told this guy wherever it was she was staying; obviously, she'd had no interest in sharing that information.)

The client had thrown a rich boy tantrum when Gray refused to tell him anything, but ultimately let him go when Gray promised Juvia would be there in a couple days (not bothering to mention that he would absolutely be there, too.)

He'd gone to pick up medicine and food. He'd grabbed all the ingredients he could remember for something hearty, mild, and delicious she used to make him when they lived together, a chicken stew that tasted like something he could remember from childhood. Those ingredients, medicine, ginger tea...anything he could think of that might help her feel better, he purchased, barely noting price.

Juvia had been waiting on the porch wrapped only in a blanket when he returned, flushed with both fever and anger.

They'd both been pissed at each other. While Gray locked horns with Juvia's amorous creep of a client, she had apparently been discovered by the landlord who owned their old cabin and only barely managed to talk him out of his anger, ultimately having to pay double their old monthly rent to keep him from calling the authorities—all while wrapped only in a blanket.

A brief yelling match had ensued. It ended when Juvia began coughing rather violently, Gray dropping his groceries in the mud to run to her. Even as she insisted she was fine, he'd ushered her into the cabin, forcing her to sit before he went back out to grab the food he'd bought.

Her face had gone funny when he began grouchily unloading chicken, rice, broth, veggies, and herbs. When he (somewhat defensively) asked what the hell she was staring at, she'd haltingly asked if he'd bought all of that for her. Exasperated, he'd told her of course he had, she'd had him worried sick.

The groceries had been abandoned when she burst into tears.

It had taken several minutes of heart-wrenching sobs on Juvia's part and coaxing on Gray's for the conversation to actually begin.

During their ugly fight in his apartment, she'd exploded.

Here, in the lonely home they'd once shared, she imploded.

While the groceries thawed and dripped on the kitchen counter, Juvia sobbed the whole, messy, painful truth into his chest. She told him everything. She told him how, deep down, she'd always known she wasn't worthy of having her love reciprocated by him. It had been true from the moment they'd met, when she'd been part of Phantom Lord, but remained true no matter how long she'd been at Fairy Tail. That was how she'd put it: "I always knew I wasn't worthy of Gray-sama's love." Not only because of her past, but because of how annoying she was. How gloomy. How creepy and obnoxious.

Gray hadn't even had time to express his horror at the fact she thought those things before she'd been plowing on, her tears only getting thicker and her words only making his heart sink lower.

She said knowing she didn't deserve his love had turned to knowing she didn't deserve to love him at all, when she'd killed Keyes to free Gray's father from his undead life. But even though "Gray-sama had been wonderful enough to forgive Juvia," she'd continued to hate herself, deep down.

She told him that sharing a life in the cabin they were currently in had, for her, been the sweetest kind of torture. That she'd never been so happy—and never felt more undeserving. For the first time, she told him that she'd only had one lover before Gray, some piece of shit named "Bora" who'd never cared about her or her pleasure. Gray had been nothing like him, attentive, caring, and as invested in her pleasure as he was in his own. At first, feeling so cared for had been as overwhelming as it was amazing, but by the time Gray started to pull away from her for his mission, the overwhelmed feelings had slowly begun to fade, letting her forget everything but the happiness she felt with him.

Juvia told him that the day he abandoned her to infiltrate Avatar, everything which she'd started to believe could feel right began to feel wrong, and everything which had felt wrong began to feel right. She'd never felt she deserved to be loved by Gray the way she loved him. Being left by him had, in a horrible way, made her feel like the world was how it was supposed to be.

But it had also ripped her apart.

It had destroyed any confidence she'd begun to gain in herself.

She told him that she resented being abandoned. Resented not being told about his mission to infiltrate a Dark Guild, not just because of their relationship, but because she had once been in a Dark Guild, and could potentially have helped his and Erza's Mission. She'd not only felt betrayed on a personal level, but disrespected as a Mage with no small amount of skill and experience.

It was a side to the issue which he had, shameflly, never considered.

He was mortified when she'd finally let herself chastise him for this—especially when he'd tried to defend himself by bringing up details of his mission only to be instantly struck down and ripped apart by someone who was, in fact, very obviously more knowledgeable about the inner workings of Dark Guilds than either he or Erza ever had been. Hell, Juvia could probably have run the mission almost as well as Jellal had.

For the first time, he saw just how beneficial it would have been to have her on board, despite Erza urging him not to get her involved. He should've gone against her orders, asked forgiveness instead of permission. Over the course of that one conversation, it was clear that having her on board would have shortened the length of their mission by probably several months.

But worse than the benefits they'd missed out on, in infiltrating Avatar, worse than the fact that she resented him, was her admission that she hated herself for that resentment.

She'd apologized. So many times. Too many times to count. Each apology was another crack in Gray's heart. He'd tried to ask her to stop, but they'd just kept slipping out anyway. It was like she couldn't help it.

She'd told him that over time, as she got to know the other women in Fairy Tail—Lucy, Cana, and Levy—she'd realized just how unworthy she was of the care Gray held for even just his friends. She just hadn't been forced to confront her own lacking sense of self-worth...until he openly reciprocated her feelings.

She said that the second he confessed, part of her felt wrong. Like she'd donned someone else's skin—someone who was worth being loved by Gray. Her guilt, her knowledge that she wasn't worthy of him, her bitterness, her self-hatred...all of it had come rushing to the surface.

She told him that, as unworthy as she'd felt, she'd been too selfish to reject him. Too angry at the thought of him being with someone else. Her own selfishness made her feel even worse than before. She'd been determined to be worthy of him, and so she had sought to pay every ounce of love he gave her three times over. At least.

It hadn't made her feel any better. No matter how hard she tried to be sure to pay him back, every time Gray took her on a date or made love to her, it made her skin crawl, because she didn't deserve it. She didn't deserve his love, his affection, or even his attention. He deserved better, and she was nowhere close to deserving him. She never would be.

If there had been even one last, single sliver of a doubt as to how he felt about this woman, it died then and there. Nothing—not his own guilt, being screamed at, or being broken up with—nothing could hurt worse than being made aware of what a hard time she was having. Learning just how badly she'd been dissociating during all their most precious moments. How much pain she was in. How little she thought of herself. How deep her scars ran.

He'd have given anything to take her pain away. He'd have given anything to change it. Right then, he couldn't think of a single thing he wouldn't have done to make her see herself as he saw her: the energetic, caring, fierce Mage he'd come to know. The woman who always eclipsed everything else for just a second, the first time he saw her every day.

He'd wanted to tell her all that, and more. He wanted to apologize. He'd wanted to tell her how badly he missed her after he'd left her here, that this place had been home for him, too. He'd wanted to tell her how much she meant to him, that no day without her smile even felt real, but his voice had been stuck behind a lump of misery and all he'd been able to do, for a very long time, was lay in their bed and hold her while she cried the rest of it out. He wasn't too ashamed to admit he lost a couple tears in her hair, too.

Over the twilight of time it had taken for her sobs to turn hoarse, then to whimpers, then sniffles, guilt, emotional exhaustion, an anguish washed over Gray in their turn.

Until finally, he hardened all of those feelings into resolve.

"I'm really thankful that you're here. For always being beside me..."

Those were the words Gray had said to her before Alvarez, and he'd meant them. For years, Juvia had done nothing but be there for him. Even when he didn't want her there, she stayed right next to him, quietly piecing together his heart and his trust. It killed him that the woman who'd confronted him with her love, made him face down his own weakness, always thought of him, and helped him so much more than he could ever truly thank her for had been hiding so much of her own pain. He wished she would have told him any of this all the times he'd pushed and asked.

But he couldn't blame her for that. Maybe she hadn't opened up to him before then, but her mentions of her days in Phantom and of that shithead ex of hers had driven home, with stark clarity, a realization he wished he'd made a lot sooner: Juvia didn't know how to open up like Gray had tried to demand, because she hadn't grown up somewhere like Fairy Tail.

Unlike Gray and Natsu and the others, she hadn't been taught to bare her pain, hadn't always known there would be someone to listen to her, cry with her, be on her side. While Gray had been fought, teased, and accepted for exactly who he was (more often his whole self than not) Juvia had been abandoned by every single person in her life except Gajeel and those who'd wanted to use her for their own ends. Gray abandoning her had only confirmed what she'd been taught was inevitable.

But the Ice Mage wouldn't linger on that. He wouldn't give any more time to despair.

It was his turn now, he realized. His turn to stay beside her even when it was hard, and do the work. Now, he just had to figure out how. But while he'd been trying to do that, had been gathering his words, Juvia had recovered enough to speak once more.

She'd apologized again. She'd told him that she knew this was too much, that all of this was too much...that she was too much. For the times they'd shared, she thanked him quietly, eyes bright with yet more tears and refusing to meet his as she continued that she'd had to let Gray go because she wanted him to be happy, and she'd finally, finally realized she could never do that for him, not really. Then she'd tried to push him away, and as Gray had tightened his grip, he'd realized he didn't need to figure out what to do, what to say, or how to love her.

She'd been showing him all along.

After a deep breath, the words had come low, and easier than he'd thought. He told her she was right, all of this was a lot...but also that he was so, so happy she'd finally told him what was really going on. He'd been as gentle as possible when he told her he could see how difficult and scary it had been for her to open up about all this and that he was proud of how brave she'd been for doing so, but she'd started crying again anyway, so he'd had to carry on with a shakier, hoarser voice.

He'd apologized. For everything. For not taking her feelings seriously for so long, for not seeing her when she needed to be seen, for leaving her behind and hurting her so badly she'd gotten sick. He hadn't been dismissing her abilities as a Mage so much as he'd been trying to protect her, but that was no excuse. "High-handed and cruel" was a generous way to describe his behavior, and he finally saw that. He'd told her that if he could take it back, he would. But he couldn't. He could only promise to never, ever leave her like that again, and he was more than ready to make that promise. He had been for a long time, since well into the 1oo Years Quest. If she'd only give him another chance, he'd show her.

At this point, Juvia had obviously started to twig that this conversation wasn't going to go how she planned, with Gray accepting she was too burdensome and unworthy for him and leaving her alone like everyone else had left her, because she'd started kicking up a fuss, forcing him to hold her there again.

"Let Juvia go, Gray-sama!" she'd demanded shakily, sounding like she was barely clinging to her determination. But Gray had refused. He refused to let her go like this, not until she'd heard him out.

As brief as the ensuing argument had been, it was also one of the most frustrating conversations Gray had ever taken part in (and he'd fought Natsu on basically every cock-and-bull-ass plan he'd ever come up with.)

He'd tried desperately to insist that while Juvia could be creepy and he did find rain somewhat gloomy, she was not worthless or annoying or obnoxious. He'd tried to tell her that she did make him happy. He'd tried to tell her how he felt about her.

Juvia had not responded well.

A wall had slammed up in her eyes, the same blank one he'd met on that fateful, rainy day so long ago. As she'd kept denying, and he'd kept pushing, their voices had gotten louder. Eventually, Gray had realized it was raining outside the window next to their bed again, and that was the one thing that had forced him to take a step back from his own frustration. Lucky, because if he hadn't, he might have flown off the handle and ruined everything all over again.

Looking down at her, he'd forced himself to cool off and realized he was being unfair; he was asking her to take an entire journey in one leap, to unlearn a lifetime's-worth of lessons about her own worthlessness over the course of a single conversation. No one could do that. It was an unreasonable thing to ask.

And so, when he'd finally gathered his wits and perspective enough, he'd said, "You don't have to agree with me. You don't have to agree with my feelings for you. But you have to believe that they're real...and you have to at least consider my side."

Juvia's eyes had gone wide. As they regained their sparkle, he'd refused to break eye contact. Slowly, the rain had stopped, leaving them in the silent hut.

After what felt like years, she'd shakily whispered, "O-okay."

And Gray had known that they were finally, finally getting somewhere.

Quietly and slowly, with their hands intertwined between their chests and their foreheads pressed together, they'd pieced together a fragile plan. They would stay together and be as they had been, but from now on, they were both going to make a concerted effort to be honest and rebuild trust. Gray started by admitting that missing out on Quests with his team had really started to bum him out, and while this seemed to sadden Juvia at first, she admitted after some thought that in being with Gray, she hadn't been nurturing her own friendships with her friends like Gajeel and Meredy. Lucy had also asked for help training her in Water Magic, and Juvia had declined so far even though she was interested in having someone to teach.

Gray had encouraged all of this...and he'd encouraged her to visit Porlyusica, too, when they got home. The old lady was hardly a Mental Healer, but she'd hopefully be able to help them find someone who was, someone objective and removed from the situation who Juvia could talk to openly. One thing which had sunk in fully for Gray over the course of Juvia's heartrending speech was that it was going to take a lot of time, work, and love to get Juvia to a better place. There was no way the two of them could do it alone.

They'd talked and planned until their voices were hoarse...and then they'd not talked for even longer. Juvia once again dropped the "-sama." She let him come to her. She didn't just surrender herself to him the way she had when they had each other before in their cabin, she'd given him even more—in his arms, she'd bared a small and precious part of herself Gray had never even realized she hid from him.

Over the course of the month they spent in that cabin, he'd cherished everything she gave him more than most men could've in twice the amount of time. How they'd managed to deal with that Dark Guild months and months ahead of schedule, he would never understand, because his head had never been less in the game. Neither of them had been able keep their hands off each other for more than an hour when they were alone together.

Neither had been particularly disappointed when that crotchety old landlord refused to give them back any part of their months' rent. Instead, they'd stayed till June was up breaking the place in thoroughly.

"It's payback for him being a jackass to you!" Gray had once playfully defended against her neck, pinning her against the kitchen counter and grinning as she gigglingly scolded him.

He only prayed no one ever took a UV Lacrima to the inside of that place. They'd go blind. He'd taken her on the couch, over it, against the walls, on the counters and tables, and in more positions than he'd previously known existed in that bed. When they returned home, a bunch of people had pointed out that they both looked like they'd lost weight. Gray didn't doubt it, after all the—

"...seriously, none of you know what it's like, every time we travel...OI, STRIPPER, YOU MAYBE WANNA QUIT EYE-FUCKING YOUR GIRLFRIEND WHEN WE'RE IN PUBLIC, YOU GODDAMN PERVERT?!"

The absolute last voice Gray wanted to hear when he was thinking about such great, intimate things yanked him out of his reflections in the most unpleasant of ways. An expression crossed between a scowl and a grimace consumed his features.

"Gray-sama!?" Juvia spluttered, craning her neck to peer at them over her shoulder with wide eyes. She looked half-scolding, half...affected as her cheeks went rose red.

Gray felt his own face grow hot as he turned to glare furiously at the pink-haired, disgusted-and-disgusting-looking bane of his existence.

"Would you keep your voice down, Dragon Boy?! I was not 'eye-fucking' Juvia!" His cheeks burned hotter as an elderly woman passing by shot him a deeply disapproving look.

"The hell you weren't!" Natsu snapped, drawing even more attention. "I could see all your gross, perverted thoughts right there in those droopy eyes of yours!"

"ARGH! So what?!" Gray just wanted this fight to be over, and figured that sort of admitting to what he'd been doing was the quickest way to make that happen. "Can't a guy even look at his girlfriend without pink-haired, flame-brained losers getting involved?!"

"THE HELL YOU JUST CALL ME?!"

"OH, SO YOU'RE DEAF AS WELL AS BRAINLESS, NOW?!"

"THAT'S IT, I'VE HAD IT! YOU'RE DEAD, YOU ICY BAS—"

"That's enough."

Uncharacteristically subdued and uninvolved though Erza's command was, it was enough to have both Natsu and Gray cringing and sweating in fear almost instantly.

"A-aye!" they squeaked, then sighed in relief as she shot them one last glare and clanked away.

"Ah, it always goes this way." Happy folded his little blue sausage arms over his chest and tsked. "If only Gray had kept his perverted eyes on himself, we wouldn't even be talking about this."

"And just how the heck is one supposed to 'keep their eyes on themselves', huh?" Gray growled up at the floating Exceed.

"By not being you, apparently!" he cackled back, Natsu soon joining him in his obnoxious guffawing.

"Why, you—! Get back here, you little shit!" Gray made a random grab at the little creep only to curse as he missed his tail by about a centimeter.

Meanwhile, Juvia clasped her still-red cheeks with her hands and donned an all-too-familiar, starry-eyed expression. "Juvia does not mind at all if Gray-sama...covets Juvia in public! How Juvia adores Gray-sama's passion!"

Gray flinched as if he'd been whipped in the back. In a second flat, he was blushing again. "O-oi, Juvia—!" he started, scrambling to find a way to get her to calm down before she came onto him in public.

(Again.)

"However," she continued before he figured out how to distract her, turning to look at him with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "If Gray-sama is going to covet Juvia on a public street, Juvia thinks he should at least wear clothes."

"Wha—?! CRAP!" Gray shouted as soon as he realized he'd stripped down to his boxers. "When did that happen!?"

Juvia wrinkled her nose cutely and giggled while he scrambled for his clothes. When he was finally yanking his jacket on, he shot her a playful glare only for his lips to quirk when she winked and sauntered after Erza.

That little...she'll get it later, he thought with a huff before shoving his hands in his pockets and strolling after her. He was well aware that he was full-on grinning, now, and didn't care in the slightest.

Little interactions like that...those were the fruits of all the hard work they—especially Juvia—had done when they got back from that S-Class mission. Gray had been prepared for it to be grueling and difficult, to fight. "Relationships take work" was a piece of advice he'd heard plenty, since he started asking for advice about how to love Juvia.

But what he'd never expected to find was that, while it was hard sometimes, it was work he was all too willing and capable of doing, because it was for her. For them. And what no one had told him was that, while loving someone meant their pain became yours, it also meant that their triumphs became yours, too.

Some days had been worse than others. Even though she'd been talking to a friend of Porlyusica's and made an impressive effort to spend more times with her friends, there were moments where Gray had felt like Juvia was back at square one. But he'd been there beside her, encouraging her every step of the way while she healed, learned that he wouldn't leave her again, learned that she was worth all of it. And slowly but surely, she'd healed.

That was what no one had told him: that every time she huffed at him to do his own laundry, teased him, sassed him into taking her on a real date, and even turned him down for sex, that he would feel such a huge rush of pride and triumph.

It was true that the road had been hard, but Gray had walked it with Juvia, and that had made every step worth it.

o(O)o

AN: Ah, sorry I don't have the time to edit this now and make it more cohesive! Also that I can't publish my next chapter of Chasing Tails just yet! I definitely, definitely will come back to edit this piece one day and make it better after I've done that. In the meantime, Happy Belated Gruvia Day!

P.S.: Fun Fact! I named this partly after one of my all-time favorite fics from a completely different fandom. The Hard Road by wthtonibelle, a Kacchako fic (from the My Hero Academia fandom) which is written in a similar way and has similar themes, only it's longer and better lol. check it out if you're so inclined!

[anticidic]

YOU

i am losing my mind unfortunately bc i started reading your fic "from a to o" and just AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA (i loved it sm)

but i am so iffy when it comes to reading abo bc i have to be in such a specific headspace for it but there was SOMETHING in your fic i SWEAR you put drugs in it bc i proceeded to spend half my shift thinking about alpha chuuya and omega dazai and now i've got an abo fic idea myself and so much background already for it and just.

how dare you. how dare you be such a good writer that you inspire me to write omegaverse. i cannot believe you.

oh my god?? I AM SO FLATTERED??

another one converted to the dark side, I need a counter now

no but, this really does make me so happy to hear! I understand the shame and stigma around A/B/O and I totally get it's a lot of peoples' 'NOPE' or a hard sell and I'll never be offended by that. For me, omegaverse is a fun sandbox I get to play in and build sandcastles based on whatever characters from whatever series I'm using. (sorry skk ya'll been subjected to it the most so far) The world-building around it is really fun!

I love alpha!Chuuya. SO MUCH. I can see him being more protective than typically possessive, but he'd definitely not want anyone touching omega!Dazai. It also totally fits Chuuya because he very much does show care and concern for Dazai whenever Dazai gets hurt in canon. (even if Dazai is a lil shit and joking around about his injuries)

I also like tying in omega!Dazai to his insecurities and suddenly becoming an omega. He went to sleep as himself one night, and the next day he was like a totally different person and having an identity crisis about it. He's not himself. He doesn't feel himself. And what does Chuuya think about all this? Or is it all just in Dazai's head?

But he's still Dazai at the end of the day to Chuuya, omega or alpha. They'll navigate those tricky waters together like they always have as partners. It's nothing new. And they'll get to learn about it together. Chuuya's really trying his best and seeing Dazai distressed about all the sudden changes and being in so much unbearable pain and not being able to do anything about it because oh god, they really fucked up and they're screwed if Fukuzawa or Mori finds out that they've secretly been together for a while.

ANYWAY. That's to say I really, really loved writing that fic. I'd like to continue expanding on it and reflecting on how Dazai perceives and approaches the world with a new perspective after suddenly feeling like he has to relearn everything. I said that after the 2nd and 3rd chapters and oh god, is this one gonna become a long fic as well but it is on my mind a lot

I would absolutely love to hear about your idea/read it if you ever do decide to do it! I'm so happy to hear I've inspired you!!

[piastrinorris]

busy streets and busy lives • ralph penbury x reader

A strange day at work gets even stranger when you meet a man who claims he's from 1926. With no certainty as to when he can get back, you decide to take him in until that time arrives.

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Tags: Timewasters (series), modern!au, slow burn, mutual pining, idiots in love™, fluff, some angst, swearing and mentions of adult themes throughout, eventual adult content, alcohol content, penbury is a fanon surname

Word count: 5.8k

A/N: Thanks for all the love on chapter 1, gang! This one's a real slow burn so I hope you're all in for the ride, haha. Also, I had picked the date Ralph arrived at random based on the general timeline I have for this fic, but it was only when making the fake text screenshots that I realised that the following day may have been a major event in the UK, so I'll leave it up to you to decide whether or not Ralph was responsible for that one lmao.

Also!! Big, beeg love to everyone in the jq server for enabling, encouraging and basically co-writing this whole premise, but especially to @hawkinsbanishedhero whose one-off typo, as featured in this chapter, inspired the absolute monolith this fic has become. <3

You wake up to a shooting pain in your back and an ache down one side. You groan as you stir into consciousness; for years you’ve always been able to pride yourself on the ability to sleep literally anywhere perfectly fine, you’d never understood why your friends always complain about back pains and knee pains when you’re all still relatively young, but now you get it.

You manage to pull yourself to standing and stiffly make your way to the kitchen to make yourself some breakfast. You look over at your closed bedroom door, wondering whether to wake Ralph up before you go to work. You don’t have to be there for opening, at least, but you do hope he’s not one to lay in for too long. Besides, the earlier you can get in to catch up on admin stuff before Head Office complain at you, the better.

As though he could read your thoughts, the door opens and a very sleepy Ralph emerges, rubbing his eyes to adjust them to the sunlit room. It’s positively adorable. “Morning,” you smile at him. “Sleep well?”

“Ah, good morning!” Even through his yawns, his voice remains very prim and proper. “I slept delightfully, apart from the occasional din coming from outside. I only noticed that when I was already awake, though.”

“Yeah, perks of being in South London, police sirens are pretty much 24/7 here. You get used to it,” you shrug, and Ralph looks horrified, ignoring your silent offer to make him a cup of tea.

“So, crime just happens? Everywhere? And it’s all just par for the course?!” he asks in shock. You nod, and he frowns. “I don’t think I want to leave the house.”

“You might need to someday, bud,” you point out, still making him one just in case. “I need to go to work, and you might end up going stir-crazy in here all the while,” you gesture at the four walls of your living-kitchen space.

“Yes, it is rather… Cramped in here,” Ralph comments with an upturned nose, though he takes the cup of tea that you slide over to him happily enough.

“Yeah, well. This is how far £900 a month gets you,” You shrug as you take your first sip, and Ralph chokes on his.

“I beg your pardon?!” he sputters out. “Ni- Nine hundre- How much is that really worth?!”

Nodding silently, you hold a finger up and take your phone out. As seems to be routine whenever you and Ralph learn about the stark differences between your time and his, you take your turn to react, almost choking and spitting out your mouthful. “Nineteen pounds?!”

“Well, that still sounds rather extortionate to me!” Ralph replies with wide eyes.

You walk over to where you had last thrown off your jacket and dig out your purse, taking out a £20 note and handing it to Ralph. “This, right here, would have been enough in your day to pay for this whole flat for a month.”

Again, Ralph scrunches his nose in disgust. “I rather feel as though you’re being swindled.” He holds the money up, turning it over and over in his hands. “Is this what money looks like nowadays?!”

“Yeah! Here,” you empty the monetary contents of your purse out onto the kitchen counter. You explain what each note and coin equate to. “I’ll leave them here in case you need to go to the store and get something. C’mere,” you wave him over to the window, pointing down below to a row of shop fronts at the bottom of another estate of flats. “There, on the corner, that’s a supermarket. It’s like, a greengrocers, a pharmacy and a clothing store, all in one. Then, next to it is the gardening store, my number one money sink.” You gesture to the houseplants that adorn the room.

“You do grow a lot of plants,” Ralph muses, smiling to himself as he gently holds a monstera leaf.

“All legal stuff, I promise,” you laugh. “But, yeah. Landlords don’t allow us to have pets, and so I’ve gotta have something to take care of. Of course, if I’d have known I’d be adopting a man born in the Victorian era, I might not have spent so much…”

Ralph, now more awake, bounces on the balls of his feet. “I-I can take care of them if you would like! Our gardener used to teach me all about how to water plants. It came in handy, being out in the garden sometimes. Much… quieter, out there,” Ralph falters, running the leaves between his fingers.

You place a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, “Wanna talk about it?”

He takes a deep breath in as his shoulder tenses up under your touch. “Oh, no, it’s quite alright, you’ve got enough on your plate as it is!”

“Okay. Well, if you ever want to talk about anything, I’m more than happy to hear you out,” you rub your palm against him in a single circular motion before pulling away. “Don’t feel like you have to bottle things up around me, okay?”

Ralph chuckles, though there’s no amusement in it. “Oh, it’s fine, honestly, I’ve no trouble with bottling things up. Rather, it’s the fact that I don’t that leads to most of my problems!”

“Okay. You know what you’re happy to share, I’m not gonna push you. But don’t make yourself sad unnecessarily, ‘kay?” You hold your little finger out. “Here, I want you to pinky promise me.”

This time, Ralph does crack a smile. “Pinky… Promise?”

“Yeah!” you grin. “Like, you know how usually big decisions are made with a handshake to make them official?” Ralph nods. “Well, little decisions that still require a commitment are usually made with a pinky promise. It’s like a handshake, but only linking your little fingers. So, pinky promise me you’ll always tell me if there’s something I can help you with? This whole mess is scary for both of us. But we’re in it together.” You smile softly at Ralph, and he returns it. In the early morning light, you can see freckles bouncing off of his face. Of course he has freckles.

Ralph sticks out his little finger, too, and you wrap yours around his for a moment before letting go. “That was… Fun,” his ears tinge a slight pink. 

“It was!” you grin. “Now, what would you like for breakfast? I’ve got cereal, I could cook you some eggs and bacon. Or, ooh, there’s one more shop I can show you!” You point out the last one in the row. “That’s a bakery. We can go pick up some fresh pastries if you wanted those, too.”

“Whatever is easiest for you,” Ralph insists. You pour him some cereal and milk in a bowl, stick a spoon in it and hand it to him, offering him to join you on the sofa.

“Okay, so while I’m gone, I obviously don’t expect you to sit here twiddling your thumbs until you get back. Now, this thing here, it’s called a television. Sometimes called a telly, sometimes called a TV. This,” you brandish the control at him, “is called a remote, it’s how you control it. You know how you could project films and stuff onto a screen, in your day?” Ralph nods. “This does that without needing a projector. And you can get all sorts of shows and films on there. I wouldn’t recommend you watch the news, just because… Well, you know why,” you pull a face and he nods slowly. “But I’m sure you’ll find something you’ll like, there’s enough out there, that’s for sure.”

“Okay, so the T… V… I can watch people perform on here?” Ralph asks, and you nod. You show him how to flick through channels, and his eyes light up. “Fascinating!”

“And if you want to listen to music, there’s a special speaker, here,” you point to your Amazon Echo. “It has a name, and you can talk to it. So you could say, Alexa, play me some jazz,” you hold your finger up to tell Ralph to wait as the speaker flashes blue.

“Playing songs from playlist Jazz Classics,” the smooth robotic voice tells you, and sure enough, the room fills with the sounds of brass and percussion working in an upbeat harmony.

Ralph absolutely giggles in delight. “Marvellous! What a spectacular creation! And I could ask it to play any sort of music?”

You nod, telling the Echo to stop. “You can even tell it to play music based on what mood you’re in. So, if you need to wallow for a bit, you can have some sad songs to listen to, or if you’re feeling high-energy, you can ask for songs to match that. That should tide you over,” you nod as you take his bowl and yours to the kitchen sink. “I’ll be back around lunchtime to drop you off some more clothes and I’ll get you some lunch too, but if you want a snack in between, feel free to make yourself a sandwich, or…” Another quick Google search tells you toasters were around in 1926. “Or toast! You could make some toast, if you wanted. We’ll go food shopping soon and get more specific snacks for you, but I gotta get going.” You throw your jacket on.

“But what about your money? What if you have to pay for something?” Ralph asks, concerned.

“Don’t worry, mate, I’ve got it covered. That’s yours, yeah?” You point to the kitchen counter. “You can use it however you want when we go out. Just… Don’t go crazy, okay? I don’t exactly break the bank.” You throw your jacket on and wave him goodbye, “See you at lunch!”

Once you leave the flat, Ralph suddenly feels completely stranded. He tries to drown it out by pressing buttons on the “remote” until something shows up. It’s a show about people buying houses that are bare, and fixing them up to sell on. Ralph feels as though they end up looking worse, but he understands why he would feel that way. He just doesn’t understand the modern style, that’s all. It’s not their fault that taste clearly deteriorated over time. Then he watches a show all about “antiques”, though again, it takes him a while to acclimate to recognising certain pieces of furniture as items he’s witnessed being sold in stores just before he left for the army. He wonders, if he keeps watching, will there be an item that once belonged in Penbury House?

His mind wanders back to that comment you had made yesterday. Penbury House. A home that had been in the family name for generations upon generations, now a lowly bookstore. What could have possibly led to it being lost? Were there truly no more Penburys? Had Victoria gone absolutely mad and lost the entire family fortune? Was his accidental trip through time the catalyst to the death of the Penbury name as it was once known? Well, wouldn’t Mother and Father have a lot to say about that. Typical Ralph, can’t hold onto anything. Not even the estate tied to him by his last name, the only thing giving him any purpose.

He realises he needs a distraction. Something to keep him busy. You had mentioned something about toast, the kitchen staff had been very excited to receive a toaster oven not long before Ralph left. He remembers helping the cook, who didn’t know how to read, understand the instructions. It only toasts one side at a time, Ralph knows this. Spurred on by his pride, he finds the bread and puts it in the toaster. 

As he’s trying to find the right button, switch, dial, lever - there’s so many extras on here, which one does he touch? - Ralph begins to get overwhelmed again. Echoes of his parents’ quick deflections, telling him to go ask the staff. The staff telling him that they’re far too busy to entertain children - other than the nanny, of course, who also made it very clear that she was only tending to Ralph’s needs because she was paid to do so. Victoria finding the art of making friends becoming second nature to her, and yet not to him for some reason. It’s not fair, he was just like her. So what made people want to be her friend and not Ralph’s?

Head swimming as the toast pops up, he remembers to turn it around to make sure it cooks on both sides - not realising that both sides had already cooked quite well. Soon, a strange smell starts to fill the flat. Then smoke quickly starts billowing out of the toaster. Ralph, terrified, slowly starts backing towards the door. Then an alarm of sorts goes off. Ralph wrenches the door open and backs out, his moon-wide eyes staring in horror.

Someone from the flat opposite opens the door and starts yelling, running in to unplug the toaster oven, pick up some… Tool that clamps together when they press it so, use it to take both slices out to throw them onto the counter. Ralph watches, back pressed to the wall as though he's tethered there, as this brave soul opens as many windows as they can before marching out to him, coughing their lungs out. "The fuck is wrong with you?! Who are you?! Are you supposed to even be here?!"

Ralph finds himself too stunned to speak. The neighbour rolls their eyes. "Do you at least know the person who lives here?" Ralph nods. "We'll see about that."

Being at work again, ironically, feels like it's been a century despite it only being a day. But the floor is running smoothly, everybody's here and working just great. You're even on track to finish all your admin stuff at long last, when - your phone rings as your neighbour's name pops up. You answer it, confused as to why they would possibly need to call you. “Hello?”

“You dating a dickhead, by any chance?” You hear their voice, a constant panicked hooting that - despite you having just met him - you could easily place as Ralph hyperventilating, and your smoke alarm in the background.

You sigh, “Not dating, but my… An old family friend is staying. Proper sheltered guy, sounds like a massive Tory. Is he okay?”

“Sheltered to the point of not knowing how a fucking toaster works?! I should call the fucking police on him for endangering the whole block!”

“No! No, please, I - Like I said, he’s just very… Look, I don’t have time to go through his life history with you -” read: I don’t have time to bullshit something right now - “but can you just… Keep an eye on him while I get back? I promise, he’s not bad, he’s just…”

“An absolute idiot?”

“Yeah…” You sigh.

“Alright. But only because you’ve been so good about keeping my cat secret.”

“I’ll buy Cheese her favourite tuna on my way home as a thank you!” you squeal in relief as you hang up.

You quickly ring up some clothes in the same size as the ones you’d given Ralph last night, explain to your staff that there’s an emergency at home and to call if they need anything - but please, god, don’t need anything, you think that last part to yourself.

Grateful you took your car this morning, you’re able to get back in a matter of minutes. You run into the supermarket to grab a can of tuna, a toothbrush for Ralph and, in a stroke of genius you’d had on the drive, a SIM card. You manage to successfully pay for everything - thanking whatever's out there that your phone's wallet system actually co-operated with the self-checkout for once - and run everything back to the flats, wanting to prioritise getting back to Ralph over getting the car into the right car park. You can do that once your poor neighbour is relinquished of their Ralph-sitting duties.

Once you get to your floor, you see your door still propped open, and your neighbour sat in their open doorway. With a relieved sigh, you fish out the can of tuna from your carrier bag and hand it over. “I will supply as much of that, and anything you want, as thanks for all this. Please don’t be mad at him -”

They raise a finger to interrupt you and lean over, revealing Ralph sitting on the floor of their flat, absolutely beaming as Cheese the cat paces in front of him, rubbing her head and body against his knees at every chance she can get. Ralph even pets her on occasion, which she takes happily.

Your face drops. “How - I have to use that tuna just to get a sighting of her when I come round and feed her!”

Your neighbour shrugs. “I’m just down here because I’m still convinced she’s doing it to lure me into a false sense of security -” You laugh with them at that, and they sigh in resignation. “But look at him. He’s harmless, isn’t he?”

You nod. “He’s just… Not used to living life on his own.”

They rasp as they stand up. “That’s an understatement. What, was he in some sort of imprisonment?!”

You shake your head. “I don’t even know. I just know that he wanted to get out of where he was. And he ended up here, with me.”

“You’ve got your work cut out for you, then.” A look of realisation dawns over their face as they grin at you knowingly. “Isn’t your flat a one-bed -”

“I am sleeping on the sofa!” You point at the pillow and blanket that still remain strewn over the back of your couch, just about in view of where your neighbour had kept open to keep watch of the flat. Your neighbour laughs as your cheeks turn pink. “I’m not expecting him to stick around, so I’m toughing it out until he can find his feet.”

“Yeah, well,” they shrug. “Just teach him how to use things in a way that doesn’t involve committing arson, alright?”

Ralph finally notices that you’re stood in the doorway, and the delight on his face immediately turns to shame. He stands and bows his head, quickly heading out and into your flat, not making eye contact with you. You frown, though nod a final thanks to your neighbour who thankfully nods back in understanding, and follow him in. “Hey, you alright?”

“I have failed you,” Ralph says simply, his back turned to you.

You walk over to him, deciding he probably doesn’t want physical contact just yet. “No, you didn’t, I did. I should have left instructions, it’s not your fault you didn’t know how it worked.”

“Is it all ruined?” he asks in a small voice.

You put your bag down on the kitchen counter to look at the toaster and shake your head, throwing the burnt toast away. “It’s absolutely fine, Ralph. Promise.” You lean down until you can make eye contact with him and offer him a smile. “Need a hug?”

Ralph, looking on the verge of tears, nods and you walk over to him with your arms outstretched. He buries his face in your shoulder as you feel his breaths become more and more regulated. You smell the smoke still clinging onto his shirt and tap his shoulder to get his attention. Once you’re out of his embrace, you can’t help but wish you’d lingered just a moment longer. You empty out the shopping bag you’d brought in, telling Ralph, “I bought you some new clothes. And a toothbrush. And something else I’m going to show you later. Go have another shower, get that smell out of you.”

While he’s in the shower again, you go to your junk drawer, thankful that you’d decided not to throw away your old phone when you upgraded through your contract. Putting the new SIM card in, you put your old phone on charge and start Ralph-proofing it. You delete all apps except for Google, so that he can find things out for himself. You’d tell him about Alexa’s capabilities there, too, but you feel as though Ralph isn’t quite ready to understand it can’t answer everything. Not like the internet can. While he's somewhat safe in the shower, and while the phone charges enough to power on, you quickly make sure your car isn't getting towed. That would just be the icing on the cake today.

Still, once you're back in the flat, all that stress seems to ebb away when he comes out of the bathroom. “You look smart,” you chime as he walks out wearing the outfit he’d chosen for himself from the clothes you'd provided: a brown plaid shirt and some jeans - you'd overestimated to be safe, but they didn't appear too baggy. Enough for a belt to manage, but they could fit better.

“Well, I couldn’t find a - a suit to co-ordinate anything with, or a tie, so I’ve had to make do. I hope this is suitable enough,” he brushes his shirt down with his hands and fiddles with the collar.

“It looks great, Ralph,” you reassure, waving him over. “Now, this is gonna be a really big thing I’m going to be teaching you about now, so we’ve gotta focus up, okay?”

You teach him how to send a text message to you, the only contact in the phone now. You teach him how to call you. You have him practise calling by going to your room and waiting for him. He gets all giddy when he’s figured it out. You teach him that if typing is difficult, he can press a button, speak into his phone and the words will come up. You also tell him that if he taps the last square on the screen, and types in a question, it’ll tell him everything he needs to know.

Once that’s out of the way, you remember something. “Ah, shit. Uh, hey, Ralph, I’m supposed to be going over to my friend’s place tonight for dinner. If you want, you can join us, or I can cancel -”

“No, please don’t cancel on my account! Oh, but I can’t be trusted on my own here, can I, oh blast…” Ralph falters, but you once again put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Nah, don’t be silly, you can come with, it’s fine.” You send the group chat a message:

“They say they can’t wait to meet you! All’s good,” you grin.

“It certainly isn’t, what about your job?” Ralph asks with a frown.

You sigh. "Let me make you lunch, I'll pop back in to finish my stuff. It's been a slow one and I've got a good team on so hopefully they understand if I need to dip early to come back to you. Literally, just text me or call me if you need anything, promise?" Ralph holds out his little finger and you link it with an affectionate smile. "I'll leave the spare key out here on the counter if you want to leave. And anything you want an answer to straight away, that I might not have time to answer, you can tap that last square on the main screen and type in the box, okay?" Ralph nods. You make the pair of you some sandwiches and take yours on the road with you, fishing out your spare key and showing Ralph where you're putting it ("just in case").

By the time you've driven to work, you have a notification on your phone, which you finally read once you're back in the office:

Once you're finally done with admin stuff, for the time being, you go back out onto the floor to check on your team. You fill them in on an old family friend coming to stay, he had a bit of an unfortunate incident with a kitchen appliance, all is well but you're keeping your phone on you just in case. They, naturally, want photos and details, which you promise them soon. When you notice you haven't heard from him in a while, you text him:

Your coworkers watch you with amused concern as you go from snorting with laughter to looking at your phone in horror:

Opting to simply wave them all off rather than try to explain what you'd just witnessed over the past half an hour, you help your sales assistants out as much as you can until you feel another buzzing in your back pocket. Half-terrified at what Ralph could possibly text next, you brace yourself:

You let out a stressed breath as you send that last one, and finally, your team wear you down. You explain that your new temporary housemate now has free reign to leave the house, and after the events of the morning, you'd started to regret letting him. When you tell them all that he's 25 (which technically isn't a lie, he's got the body of a 25 year old), they assure you that even the most simple-minded of men surely could only navigate so far. Still, you can't help but pace the shop floor anxiously, refolding shirts and reorganising displays, until:

Laughing with relief, you excuse yourself for the day. You tell the team that you feel awful for leaving them, but they seem to understand that you have a greater purpose ahead of you.

You call Ralph to tell him that you're on your way home, mostly to make sure you don't still hear the sounds of the street behind him. Thankfully, there seems to be some jazz music playing in the background, so he must have figured out how to get music playing, too.

You unlock your door to see Ralph humming along to a tune, wiggling himself around rhythmically as he sprays the leaves of some budded flowers with water. He acknowledges you with a wide, genuine smile. "Hello!" He singsongs. "I thought I'd spruce them up a little before they go to their new home. Just a couple of African Violets, the shopkeeper said. The ones already in bloom on display looked quite wonderful."

It's not that you're not happy to finally see him excited about something he knows about already, but this is the same man who almost burned the whole flat down making toast just hours ago. Still, look at him. It's nice to see him acclimating.

Since Anna doesn't live too far away, you and Ralph walk over to her flat. He's holding his plants and looking extremely proud of himself, until someone almost walks into him and he's suddenly pulled back into the reality of the streets of modern London. His big eyes dart around as he desperately looks out for danger, wrapping his arms around his gift protectively. You take him by the cuff on his wrist and guide him, weaving through strangers who couldn't care any less about their surroundings.

You hadn't told Anna to expect a gift today, and so she seems thrilled to meet Ralph and take the plants out from his grip. He immediately follows her to start babbling on about what the shopkeeper had said were the best conditions to keep them in. Once she's finally able to set them down, Ralph is still tailing her, looking expectantly for more reaction. Amused and slightly confused, Anna reaches up to pat Ralph on the head. He giggles and rushes over to you. You and Anna share a look before you lead him to meet the rest of your friends.

Scott, Connor and Grace all greet Ralph enthusiastically, and he seems to be bursting at the seams at the prospect of so many people being happy to meet him. He stays relatively quiet as you catch up with your friends.

"So, Ralph…" Scott starts. He goes back to looking terrified. "How are you settling in living with this one?" he shoves your shoulder, and you bat him away, playfully flipping him off.

Ralph looks taken aback at such a casual display of vulgarity, but he continues, "Well, it's only been for the one night, and there's certainly a lot to learn about… This… London," you can tell Ralph doesn't lie well, and appreciate that he's trying to word things in as honest a way as possible. “But, your friend here is a remarkable host and teacher,” he nods, smiling to you. It’s up there with one of the strangest compliments you’ve ever received, but it makes you blush nonetheless.

Anna asks for some help in the kitchen, and while Connor is the first to stand up, Scott pushes him back down with a slowly emerging smile on his face, looking directly at you. “Why don’t you give us the chance to get to know Ralphie here?”

You narrow your eyes, “Why do you say that like you’re in your villain arc?”

He laughs, immediately softening. “I just wanna know what makes him tick. Get to know what he really thinks, y’know?”

Ralph’s eyes dart between the two of you. “Rest assured, I have to reason to lie about anybody here in the slightest!”

“I’m just yanking your chain, Ralphie,” Scott laughs, though Ralph is not amused.

Connor rolls his eyes, “Don’t let him put you off us, Ralph. You can get to know us, too, without a certain someone embarrassing us in front of their new friend,” he pulls a face as he points to you with his thumb.

Ralph grins with excitement, his feet running on the spot where he sits. “Do you have a lot of tales to tell between you, then?”

“Oh, we’ve known each other for years. Went to school together.” You explain as you stand, following Anna’s anguished look from her kitchen door. 

Ralph licks his lips, sadness dawning on his face. “Does that mean you all knew Lauren, too?”

Scott pulls a face, “How do you know Lauren, of all people?!”

Quickly assigning yourself as damage control, you pipe up, “Before he came to me, when he was living elsewhere, he met Lauren, Nick, Jase and Horace.”

“And yet he only mentioned Lauren…” Scott teases.

“Would you stop?” Grace slaps Scott’s shoulder as he laughs, moving over to accompany Ralph, rubbing his shoulder comfortingly. “Clearly things didn’t work out. Her loss, mate.”

Even Connor gets in on the teasing as he snorts with laughter while pointing at you. “What a twist of fate, remember when Nick -”

“You know I never actually asked him out, right? I wussed out at the last minute and just told you all that he turned me down,” you interject, to almost everyone’s groans.

“Nah, that makes sense,” Anna calls from the doorway. “Explains why you’re still such a chicken these days. Speaking of chicken,” she ushers you into the other room hurriedly.

As your friends grill Ralph on what he knows about you so far (“Very little, I’m afraid!”), what his intentions in London are (“Sort of making it all up as I go along, really!”), and his tastes (“I’m really not quite sure, um, I’m quite new to all of this… Modern… I’ve always known the classics, you know?”), you help Anna with her final preparations. 

“So, how long d’you think you’re gonna keep him around for?” Anna asks.

You shrug, “It’s not really up to me. It’s whenever he’s ready to go back home, I guess.”

“I wonder where home is for him,” Anna frowns, and you shrug, focusing on your task. “He’s so… Out of touch. I know Scott was out of line guessing he’s escaped from a cult,” she mouths the word, “but, like, would him going back home really be the best thing?”

“Babe, you’ve known him for all of five minutes, and all you know about him is that he bought you some plants.”

“Exactly! You two are made for each other,” she muses, to which you grab a tea towel to flick at her.

“I’ve only really known him a day, myself,” you counter. 

“And still you let the man live with you,” Anna raises her eyebrows at you.

You shrug again, “I dunno, he’s harmless, i’nt he?” You look over at him, a trace of wistfulness in your gaze as you watch your friends tap his phone for him, pointing things out to him. “I guess we’ll just see what happens.”

Once everything is dished up, you go out to the other room to call them all to pick up their meals. “Hope you haven’t traumatised Ralphie too much,” you comment.

“Not at all!” Ralph beams. “Look at how many new people I have to call and to text message now!” He shows you the addition of your four friends’ numbers in his contact list.

“That’s great, Ralph,” you nod with an affectionate smile. “Now let’s go eat. Sorry none of your favourites are on the menu tonight, mate.”

“Ooh, what are your favourites?” Grace asks.

“Oh, anything with aubergine on the side is always a five-star meal for me!” Ralph grins, and Connor and Scott snort with laughter.

“Hey!” Anna scolds. “No vulgarity at the dinner table, please!”

Ralph frowns. “What is it that’s so vulgar about aubergines?!”

You see multiple people start volunteering themselves to teach him, and hold your hand out to stop them all. “Ralph, there are some questions that you’re better off finding the answers to all by yourself.”

Ralph gasps and points at you, “By using my phone!” You click a finger gun back at him in affirmation. He excitedly taps out a sentence - part of you wants to double-check for him, but you don’t want him to be entirely dependent on you, and besides, he’s a grown man - and frowns at his phone. “Hm, perhaps it takes a while for it to find the answer.”

You groan, “Has the data not kicked in yet? Sorry, that’s on me.”

Dinner goes by delightfully. Of course your friends would make Ralph feel at home. They are home. You wouldn’t even be able to tell amongst the table that one of you was actually from old money - really old money, at that. After dinner, everyone practically fights over getting to play their favourite songs to see how he reacts to them. You could cry every time you see how genuinely happy Ralph looks - though you didn’t want to pry too much behind his back with Anna, you are curious about his life back home. He doesn’t seem too happy thinking about the past, and if he’s so hung up on Lauren, who he barely knew, there can’t have been much luck with any other relationships. Maybe you’ll get to learn more about him. Maybe you won’t have enough time.

But, for now, you’ll happily take the arm he extends out to you as the song changes, laughing as he twirls you amongst the friend group you’ll happily share with him, for however long he needs them.

next chapter

[takeariskao3]

So, full disclosure

chapter 16 of the path from you has been hanging over my head for months and i think most of you have guessed why... for those who haven't or who are curious to know more about why it's taking so long, i've decided to be pretty open and candid below the cut. there aren't any outright spoilers but more just an explanation about the process i've been going back and forth on since.... february ?? (ffs)

this isn't directly in response to that anon from last night but they did make a valid point that i have been promising an update and failing to deliver so, if you're wondering why, keep reading

i very much realize that this is my hobby, and i do it for fun, and i don't owe anyone an explanation but i still feel like i can give one anyway. most of you have probably guessed that the next 3-4 chapters of the path from you are harry and ginny reaching their boiling points and finally having it out (in more ways than one)

my problem has been that i have a very specific order of events in my head about how it should all unfold but everytime i sit down to write, harry and ginny jump ahead three chapters and start ruining all my plans. i think they, and i, are ready for some conversations to start happening, however, if they break one wall, then they all come crashing down and to be honest, i'm a little bit attached to what i've already written in 17-18-19 to truly be able to blow it all up again.

now, with that being said, i also think i've gotten to the point where i know it's time for some reconciliation. unfortunately, my ego/pride/self-confidence is getting in the way a little bit because, in my opinion, a well-executed emotional payoff separates a good writer from a great one, and in the spirit of full honesty, i want to be great.

this version of harry and ginny, and all of you who have stuck with me for this long, have earned a damn good moment and i really *really* want it to be the best possible unfolding of events it can be. full of heart and vulnerability and passion.

the people that i talk to almost everyday about this fic (@narukoibito, @fairsquare16, @corneliaavenue-ao3, @herblazinglook, @ginwhisky, @brightlybound, & @valfromcall) can tell you that i have been laboring and struggling and agonizing over this chapter for months. this is not something i take lightly and this fic means a whole lot to me in a lot of really personal ways, so i have been taking a massive amount of time getting us to where we are because i want to get it right. i want harry and ginny's reasons for ending up where they are to feel honest and i want their resolution to feel cathartic. and maybe this is where i'm crippling myself, by trying to make it perfect, but dammit HARRY AND GINNY DESERVE PERFECT

thank you to everyone who reached out last night and over the past few weeks with love and encouragement and support. you guys mean more to me than you will ever know. any good vibes you can throw my way while i write tonight would be much appreciated. chapter 16 is close. i had a revelation a couple nights ago about why i kept getting stuck so hopefully this newfound direction will finally get us to the finish line.

i guess i'll end by saying this, if ever you are curious about what i'm working on or what's coming up next or why an update is taking so long, just ask. i am an open book. i swear i'm not intentionally holding out on you. and if i promise an update and come back a few days later saying its not ready yet, please remember that i am trying to put out the best possible version of my stories and i am just as disappointed as you are that i'm not updating.

as always, thanks for reading and for allowing me the space to create this version of h/g's love story.

[aylacavebear]

Dimensional Shift - Chapter 7 S4E3-6

Story Summary: Maria was just a regular girl, worked at a gas station, wrote fanfic, and loved Supernatural. She even created her own supernatural creature for her writings. When the aurora borealis comes to Sioux Falls, South Dakota, one Halloween night, everything changes for her in ways she never expected. Will she be able to navigate this new world she's thrown into?

Word Count: 3688

Please don't take my work. I'll post warnings for each chapter. Will eventually be 18+!

Warnings: Angst, some Fluff/Comfort, Alcoholism.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 7 - S4E3-E6

(Sep. 20/08 - Oct. 28/08)

Maria stayed out of the next case, knowing that this would be when Castiel would come to Dean in his dreams and then send him back in time to see what happened between his mother and the yellow-eyed demon Azazel.

After which Dean would be confronting Sam about being on demon blood and working with Ruby. Then they’d have a Rurguru case, which was when Sam would choose to stop drinking the demon blood all on his own. She also had no desire to watch Dean flirt shamelessly with the waitress when they’d deal with the shapeshifter at the Oktoberfest.

She told the boys to be safe and that they could handle it, but if they needed anything, she and Bobby were there and only a phone call away. After the boys left, Maria filled Bobby in, swearing him to secrecy because, in her words, “This needed to happen a specific way.” Bobby wasn’t happy about it, but he agreed. 

“Kid, they should know more than what you’ve told ‘em,” Bobby sighed after she explained some things.

“I can’t risk changing too much, though. I know they both miss her, and I don’t know another way to bring her back,” Maria practically mumbled.

“But do they really need to go through all that crap?” he asked, not completely sure how it all fit together.

She sighed, staring at the coffee table, “Over the time that passes, the two of them learn things on their own and it helps their bond eventually get stronger. Those two would do anything for each other. Even Cas ends up being family, but he does some stupid shit too.”

Bobby sipped his whiskey as he eyed Maria momentarily, concern etched into the lines of his weathered face, “How are you holding up?”

She shifted in her seat, her gaze flickering to the floor before meeting Bobby’s eyes, “Honestly, it’s both weird and cool, being here. I fell in love with all of the show's characters. It’s why I wrote fanfic. I just never thought I’d actually end up here,” she chuckled dryly, a hint of vulnerability in her voice.

He leaned back in his chair, studying her with a mix of sympathy and understanding, “Just know, I still see you like my daughter. You can talk to me about anything,” he tried to reassure her.

“I know, and I appreciate it. I just don’t know how to act around the boys sometimes,” Maria sighed.

Bobby chuckled, “Well, the you from here has had a crush on Dean since she was about thirteen. Swore me to secrecy back then. I’m gonna guess you probably have more than a crush.”

Her cheeks warmed as a deep blush appeared, and she was thankful neither of the brothers was there, “Yeah, that would go over really well. The girl from another dimension is in love with what used to be a fictional character in her world,” she said fairly sarcastically, then sighed and looked back down at the table. “He’d laugh at me.”

Bobby sighed, not quite sure how to say what he was thinking about, “You could always just be blunt about it. Don’t live with regrets, kid.”

She knew exactly what he meant. Bobby had regrets, most of them having to do with his deceased wife and choosing never to have kids himself. He’d broken her heart and then had to kill her three days later due to her getting possessed by a demon. She debated telling him he should get an anti-possession tattoo, but that would have changed far too much. 

“Dean isn’t the kind to settle down, Bobby. He likes his “freedom”,” she replied, rolling her eyes and putting the word freedom in air quotes.

He eyed you for a minute before he continued, “He may be an idjit, but he has a good heart. I think he might surprise you if you were honest with him.” After sipping his whiskey, he realized something, “Is that why you didn’t go with them?”

She shifted in her seat uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact with him, “You try to watch someone you love flirt with every girl but you. Can we talk about something else, please?”

Bobby sighed, deciding he’d try to figure out a way to help her, but kept that to himself for now. “Then, while you’re here and not on a case with those two, you’ll train. That way, I don’t have to worry ‘bout you so much when you do go out with them.”

“Thanks,” she replied, giving him a thankful smile.

During that month, she spent a lot of time practicing movements, using her Touched abilities to get the hang of them better. It was the training she needed to reacquaint herself with what the character from her fanfic had been doing since her powers manifested. One thing she was having the hardest time with was feeling so alone. 

She was a fangirl and had been for over a year, and now she was in her favorite show with a fictional character she’d gone and fallen in love with. She also figured this entire situation had to be weird for all three of them.

When she slept, memories of “her past here” played through her mind, and she began missing the man who was her father here. She also got memories of the times she had hung out with the brothers, Bobby, and even with John. 

Bobby made sure to reacquaint her with how to shoot a gun. Her body knew what it was doing, but she had to grasp the feeling of it when she pulled the trigger. Each gun felt different. She didn’t want to be afraid of them, so she managed to stay serious while Bobby taught her.

Castiel couldn’t infiltrate Maria’s dreams due to her being a Touched and having the protection of Bastet by a birthmark or, more, a brand of a small, one-inch black cat mark on the back of her left shoulder. Most monsters couldn’t use their energy powers on her due to that. It did depend on how powerful they were. Of course, she wasn’t invulnerable. 

When Dean got Ghost Sickness, Sam called Bobby in for some help, so Maria tagged along. She stayed in the motel room with Dean while Bobby went to help Sam. Dean didn’t have long left, a couple of hours if he was lucky, and the hallucinations were bad at this point. Maria did her best to keep him distracted but couldn’t when the sheriff showed up, worse off than Dean was. 

Maria’s blood could only heal so much, and this was not one of those things. Even though she tried, cutting her finger and dripping blood into Dean’s wound that he had scratched into his arm, sadly, it had no effect. All she could do was hold him as he held his chest, gripping where his heart was. She knew he wasn’t meant to die here, but being a part of this was hard for her, far harder than watching it on the show.

“Bobby and Sam will fix this, I promise,” she tried to tell him, even if he was in too much pain to hear her.

Then, out of the blue, he was fine, and Maria let out a sigh of relief. The blood she had dripped into his wound now healed his injuries fairly quickly. Dean looked up at her, slightly confused as to why she was holding him. He got to his feet and then helped Maria to hers.

“Thanks for trying at least,” he told her with that smile smirk of his.

“What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t at least try?” she replied, smiling more with one side of her lips than the other, not quite a smirk though.

This was the first time the two of them had been alone since she had arrived in their world. Dean was relaxed as he headed over to the fridge, grabbing himself a beer and chuckling slightly. Maria, on the other hand, felt nervous and anxious around him. Keeping her composure took quite a lot, but Dean noticed the smile she couldn’t completely hide, as well as the emotions in her eyes.

“Well, I appreciate it,” he finally told her before he took a drink.

She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt as she went over and sat on the edge of the bed. Her nerves felt as though they were on edge. Maria knew there was more to Dean than just his outer appearance. But dear God, that outer appearance was something she’d fantasized over on numerous occasions. 

He was the epitome of rugged charm. With broad shoulders and a sturdy build, he exuded an aura of strength and confidence that drew people in effortlessly. Along his chiseled jawline was two-day-old scruff since he hadn’t bothered to shave, accentuating his rugged good looks. Then, there were his piercing green eyes. They held a hint of mischief, always ready with a smirk or a cocky grin that sent hearts racing.

Dean had the most expressive eyebrows that could convey a range of emotions, from determination to vulnerability. He moved with a relaxed, self-assured swagger, every step exuding a magnetic charisma that made it impossible not to be captivated by. From his leather jacket from his father to the worn-out boots, he was the embodiment of any girl's wet dream.

“Want a beer, Sweetheart,” he asked, that damned smirk plastered on his lips again.

“I’d say sure, but beer doesn’t do anything. It’d kinda be a waste to drink it,” she chuckled, hoping he hadn’t noticed the blush that had crept into her cheeks. She also hoped he hadn’t caught her staring at him, again.

He chuckled, “I’d offer you whiskey, but I don’t have any here. We can get some at the store down the block if you want.”

She tilted her head slightly, wondering if he had something else on his mind, but was too nervous to ask at the moment. “It’s okay. I’m pretty sure Bobby and Sam will be back soon.”

Dean leaned against the counter, sipping his beer, occasionally looking over at her, but hadn’t said anything. She could tell he was in his head, lost in his thoughts while still paying attention to everything. It was moments like this that his personality captivated her. He had the kindest heart and the sharpest tongue that cut with a pain that was capable of pushing someone away forever. Just as their eyes locked, Sam walked through the motel room door.

“You two okay?” he asked, concerned for his brother still.

“Yup. Hunky-dory,” Dean replied, sporting that playful smirk of his again.

Then, the three of them drove back out to the factory. Maria had been lost in her thoughts on the drive. Dean kept glancing at her in the rearview mirror, which his brother did notice, but neither of them said anything to her. They met back up with Bobby, and after Dean parked, he pulled four beers out of the green cooler, but Bobby declined. Maria leaned on the trunk of the Impala, thinking about the events that were about to play out soon when Sam pulled her from her thoughts.

“So, Maria, you comin' with us, or heading back with Bobby?” Sam asked, glancing over at her.

“I could do either, but it’d probably be more fun going with the two of you,” she chuckled playfully.

Dean raised an eyebrow, as did Bobby, “Bobby can’t be that boring,” Dean stated, that smile smirk on his face again, which made Maria roll her eyes, but in a playful way.

“Well, if I’m gonna be here, in this world, I might as well get to hunting,” she told him. 

The week she’d spent at Bobby’s while Dean and Sam were working out their issues, she had begun practicing with her abilities, feeling how her body had moved. It was almost muscle memory for her, which she found only slightly odd. 

She had also been having more dreams that consisted of memories of her life in this world, things that her character may have dreamt about in her fanfic. Maria was done questioning going back or even attempting to find a way back. 

She’d already decided she was going to stay, and no one was going to change her mind on the matter. This whole thing reminded her of a few different anime shows she had watched where a player got sucked into the game they had been playing.

Maria’s words made Dean chuckle, “Alright, Sweetheart, but you’re in the back seat.” 

She rolled her eyes before grabbing her bag from Bobby’s back seat and putting it in the Impala’s trunk. Then she hugged Bobby, promising to check in with him while she was out with the boys. Maria had gotten better about Dean’s scent not affecting her as badly as it had in the beginning. 

Her main reason for going with them was because she wanted to see the angels, knowing they were going to show up. She’d already told Bobby about the seals that were being broken, telling him what books were going to be the most helpful. Maria had also gotten more confident over that week, smiling as she walked over to Dean and Sam.

“Ready when you two are,” she told them with a smile before climbing in the back seat of the Impala, getting comfortable in the middle. 

Dean, Sam, and Bobby looked at each other, all exchanging looks while signing to each other.

Bobby: Keep an eye on her. I don’t know if she’s really ready for this yet.

Sam: We will, and we know. She seems eager, though.

Bobby: She’s been training the whole time the two of you were gone.

Dean: Really?

Bobby: Yeah, really. Just watch her. I worry.

Dean: She’s family Bobby, and our old Maria was a damn good hunter. We’ll keep an eye on her, we promise.

Sam: Yeah, Bobby, we promise.

They said their farewells before Bobby got in his car and drove off. Sam and Dean exchanged another look before they got in the Impala. She knew they had just over a week before Sam would find the next case. This was one of those timeframes the show hadn’t added for the fans to watch. She was curious as to what the two would end up doing.

She stared out the window at first, just watching the scenery pass by while Dean drove. Her mind wandered again, thinking about the future events and how pissed he was going to end up being with her.

“So, since you know the future, Sweetheart, what’s our next case?” Dean teased her playfully, glancing at her in the rearview mirror.

Maria rolled her eyes, “You’ve got roughly ten days before the next one comes up.”

“Didn’t answer my question,” he sighed.

She clenched her jaw, still looking out the window, “It’s in Red Wing, Minnesota, okay? But nothing is gonna show up for a case till around the twenty-ninth.”

Sometimes, she hated her memory. She’d done so much research in her world on locations that weren’t easily found when it came to towns that weren’t listed on regular fan sites. This had been one of those that took far more research than she was willing to admit, putting together bits and pieces of information and asking numerous other fans on several chat sites.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Dean smirked, feeling accomplished that he got something out of her.

“So, what are we gonna do for just over a week?” Sam thought out loud.

They normally didn’t have time to themselves, and now they knew they had a week off of hunting monsters or dealing with a case. Maria was pretty sure what Dean would want to do, and she didn’t want to think about it.

“Well, I say we go find a nice small town near there, get a couple motel rooms, and relax,” Dean said happily.

As long as my room is on the other side of the building entirely, Maria thought to herself.

“Sure. It’s been a long while since we’ve had time to relax and do nothing,” Sam chuckled, looking forward to it now, too.

The drive wasn’t horribly long, just under half a day, but they got in sometime near three in the morning. When the brothers went in to get a couple of rooms, she followed them after grabbing her bag. Dean wanted her room next to theirs, but she asked for one as far away from theirs as possible, making sure it had two beds. She had a feeling Sam wasn’t going to want to spend much time in the room with Dean or would end up getting kicked out due to Dean needing some private time.

“What was that all about, Sweetheart?” Dean asked, trying to catch up with her, “Don’t want to share a room with me now?”

She rolled her eyes, “I know what “relaxing” means to you, and I’d prefer not to hear it.”

He smirked, which Sam saw, and he shook his head, knowing his brother was an idiot, having no clue why she really didn’t want to be near his room.

“Oh, and Sam, you’re welcome to bunk in my room, when Dean picks brings a chick back,” she added, making her way to her room on the far side of the motel building.

“Thanks,” Sam chuckled as he and Dean headed to their room.

Maria locked her door behind her before tossing her bag on the bed, grabbing some fresh clothes, and taking a shower. It wasn’t the best water pressure, but it did the job. She threw her hair up in a ponytail and went to the closest corner store, purchasing five bottles of whiskey. Her excuse to the cashier was that she was hosting a party, which he bought.

She hadn’t planned on drinking that night. She just wanted it on hand for the next day. So, when she got back, she tucked it away and out of sight, then crawled into bed. Her dreams were again of memories of this world and her character's past, things she’d never added to her fanfic.

It was a long week for her, and she mostly hid from Dean more than anything. Sam spent several nights out of the week in her room on the other bed, as Dean had done exactly what she knew he would. 

“How long are you gonna not tell him how you feel?” Sam asked on the next to last day.

“He’d laugh at me, Sam. I mean, seriously. A girl from a world where he’s just a fictional character, and my dumb ass had to go and fall in love with him,” she retorted with a humorless chuckle.

“He might take it as a compliment?” he replied, raising an eyebrow

“He’s also not the settling down type. He likes his freedom. Then there's the way he always worries about losing those he cares about most. That somehow being close to him puts them in danger,” she sighed, then groaned, “He’s so stupid in that though. Any person he’s helped is in danger if a monster wanted to get to him.”

“Looks like you know him pretty well,” Sam chuckled, realizing that just because she looked like “their” Maria, she was very different, in all the best ways.

She rubbed her face with her hands, mildly frustrated, “He’d think it was creepy. I could probably tell him what he was thinking most of the time.”

“Not sure I’d want to know what he was thinking most of the time,” he laughed.

“Sometimes I wish I didn’t know,” she sighed.

The alcohol was long gone at this point, and she knew they’d be heading out the following day for the next case. She again offered the other bed to Sam for the night in case Dean picked up yet another girl at the bar he’d been spending far too much time in, at least in her opinion. He did take her up on that offer when he saw Dean’s car gone, yet again, around dinner time.

Maria and Sam had pizza for dinner while watching a movie when they heard the Impala pull up at the motel. She didn’t even need to look out the window to know he had another girl with him. She could hear the woman giggling after the car doors closed.

“You’re only torturing yourself,” Sam sighed, hating seeing her sad like she was now.

“Not like I can just turn off my hearing,” she grumbled, turning up the TV.

She barely slept that night, unable to get him out of her head, so the following day, she looked as tired as she felt when she and Sam joined Dean at the Impala. Dean just watched her, attempting to read her expression, body language, and what she wasn’t saying.

“Never saw you at the bar. You into Sam now?” Dean asked, leaning against the driver’s door.

“He’s like a brother to me, and I’m not into family like that,” she snapped, not looking at him.

“Geeze, Sweetheart. Sounds like you just need to get laid,” he teased.

“Dude? Seriously?” Sam questioned him from the opposite side of the car.

“What?” he asked, acting innocent before sliding into the driver’s seat.

Maria ignored him on the drive, sitting behind Sam and keeping her gaze out the window. She was still fighting with herself on how to handle future events and deal with the man she loved, having no clue how she felt toward him. Knowing him the way she did, she knew how he was going to react to numerous things, especially since if she shared the information, he’d stop it. Her only thought was that she wanted the brothers to have their mom in their life again, and one family dinner that they never got. The one day where their dad got pulled from the past, but that was a great many years from now.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 8 - Coming Soon

Dimensional Shift Master List

Main Master List

Tag List: @nancymcl

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

HERE, KITTY, KITTY (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Aizawa x Black!Catgirl!Reader

Synopsis: In which you find yourself in the weirdest predicament after you’re scooped up and taken to a cat cafe after you decide to take the streets to fight some crime, and you’re adopted by your very anti-social and hot coworker Aizawa aka Eraserhead.

Story Warnings: Smutty Smut, 18+ (MINORS GET AWAY), Swearing, Adult!Reader, Ear and Tail Stroking, Light Degradation, Spanking, Exhibitionism, Multiple Positions, Creampie, Unprotected PIV Sex, Facial, Scent Play, Collaring, Deepthroat, Cunnlingus, Begging, Edgeplay, Power Play, Rope Play/Shibari, Master Kink, Some Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Some Action

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: Thank you all so, so, soooo much for the love on this story! I'll be writing some brand new shit soon! Stay safe! -Jazz

Read on AO3 here!

Other Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-One. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three. Twenty-Four. Twenty-Five.

*********

TEN.

When the next day comes, it brings with it some unseasonably warm weather that Aizawa feels when he wanders into the living room and finds you gone. 

He isn’t sure how you got out since the windows are locked, but he supposes that cats have their ways. He felt a twinge of disappointment at seeing you gone once again, but he knew that you would probably want to be outside and not cooped up in a dorm all day.

Plus, now that Eri has more hope that you’ll come home after your adventures, she seems much happier. Even when he wakes her up in time to get her ready to hang with Hitoshi before his classes begin, she is a giggly, upbeat little ball of energy. 

“Maybe she’ll bring back a present,” she happily says as she and Aizawa walk hand and hand across campus. “Or maybe she’s with other kitties! You think she’ll let us meet them, Daddy?” The way she looks up at him excitedly makes his heart clench. “If she trusts us enough and has friends, sure,” he chuckles. 

During the entire day of work, Aizawa is feeling pretty good, though one thing could make his day go a whole lot better: seeing you.

He purposely has stopped by your office a few times when taking bathroom breaks just to see you, but every time he does, you’re never in. He thinks that maybe you just took off today or perhaps your hours are different this week.

Whatever it is, it’s none of his business, but he can't help the disappointment he feels at not seeing your pretty face or cute little ears.

He has no idea why since he ends up becoming a rock-hard, blushing mess over them regardless. He doesn’t know how he was able to say even one coherent sentence to you while he and Eri were eating ice cream yesterday afternoon. Maybe Eri was the missing link. Or maybe the ice cream. It’s been proven chocolate works as an aphrodisiac. 

Aizawa can’t help but feel wistful about his conversation yesterday with you. It was all so amazing that it felt like a good dream to him–the easiness he felt speaking to you; the way such joy sparkled in your eyes; your musical laughs that he wanted to hear again and again; the way you engaged Eri that made him want to put a baby in you himself.

It all felt so good. So right. He can't help but feel like that may never happen to him and you again. 

He’s just too damn anti-social. Too shy. Too awkward. What would he be able to say without Eri linking the two of you together? How can he speak to you, especially with those damn ears and that tail he wants to desperately stroke?

Where does he even begin to learn how to charm and woo a woman when he hasn’t had the urge to do so since high school? 

He knows just the person to talk about this with, so after the day is through and school is out, he and Mic take a trip to the faculty dorms’ private gym. They leave Eri in the kids’ section that Nezu specifically created for her and any other faculty members who may have children. So far, she’s the only one occupying the space.

While Eri colors and sings along to the Little Mermaid playing on the TV overhead, Aizawa gives Mic the rundown on his dilemma as he does his bicep curls with some 16 lb dumbells.

Mic is overjoyed as he does his cool-down stretches, his long legs splayed out in front of him. “Ah, I’m so glad you’re coming to me with this, Shouta!” he happily says, grinning at his friend. “We need to talk like this more! It’ll do you good to open up about your concerns and anxieties with the ways of women.” 

“Don't get used to it,” Aizawa grumbles, giving Mic a fixed stare from the bench. “I’m only tellin’ you because you’re the only one I semi-trust with this.”

Mic just laughs as he continues his cool-down stretches, pressing down onto his knees. “And I only wanna talk to her because she seems nice. I don’t want her to think I hate people or whatever.” 

Mic glances at him curiously. “But you do hate people.” 

Aizawa flushes as he bends forward, still doing his curls. “Well, yes, but she’s too nice to be all people,” he argues. “She actually gives a fuck about her job and the way she engaged in conversation with Eri was just…”

He trails off and smiles dreamily as his mind fills with visions of you and Eri together, in your own little world. The way you encouraged her to be her little bubbly, hyper self was the cutest shit he’d ever seen. You’d be a great mom, he knows…if you aren’t one already, that is. 

Something in Aizawa wilts at the possibility of someone having you–maybe a partner or a husband. You never talked about being married or dating, especially to him, so he knows thinking this way is stupid. But dammit, he just can’t help himself or these intrusive thoughts.

Feeling eyes on him, he looks at Mic, finding a goofy, knowing grin on his face. “Stop lookin’ at me like that,” he growls. 

“Man, I don’t know why you don’t just admit that you like the girl!” Mic laughs, standing up and raising his arms, lean with muscle, high. “C’mon; she’s sweet, intelligent, loves kids, and has those cute lil’ cat parts. She’s your dream girl!”

Aizawa rolls his eyes, thinking his friend is just being overly dramatic as usual. “Just ask her out one day when she’s free. Simple as that!” 

Aizawa softly grunts as he lays the dumbbells down at his feet, giving his arms a break. “I don’t just ask people out,” he huffs, frustrated. “And I’m not askin’ her out, to begin with. I just want to have a conversation with her without feeling awkward. I want us to be strictly friends.” 

Mic just shakes his head pityingly at the professor. “Whatever you saaaay,” he sing-songs, obviously thinking differently. “But you should still ask her to lunch or something to get to know her if you don’t feel comfortable doing it around us in the break room.” He snaps his fingers, a lightbulb flicking in his head. “Maybe for some ramen! Everybody likes ramen, right?” 

“Who likes ramen?” you suddenly ask from the door. Aizawa nearly chokes on the water he’s chugging down when he spots you in a bright yellow sports bra and black yoga pants that should be illegal on you, especially with the way you cut out the back so your tail can breathe. It swishes happily at your ankles when you spot Mic.

“I thought I heard your voice,” you giggle. “I could hear you all the way down the hall.” You come farther into the room with a duffle bag and Hydroflask. 

As you do, your eyes fall onto Aizawa and your tail stops swishing. “Oh…sorry, I didn’t know you had company.” Aizawa’s mouth goes dry despite the water he just drank as he stares at you, forcing himself to not check you out. 

Mic snickers quietly, already gathering his shit. “No, come in!” he enthusiastically insists. “I was just getting ready to leave. Gotta grade papers now or else I’ll never get to ‘em. But you don’t worry your pretty ears; Shouta here is a great gym buddy.”

He turns to Aizawa and gives him a wink. “See you two tomorrow!” he chirps before he practically rushes out of the gym. 

Aizawa makes a mental note to kill his friend and hide the body later. 

When you walk farther into the room, you barely spare him a glance. Though it pains him, he can’t exactly blame you because he keeps his eyes down at his feet too as he proceeds to finish his bicep curls.

Out of his peripheral, he watches as you lay a yoga mat down from the row of shelves underneath the mirror sitting in front of you. You wipe it down with a sanitized wipe before kicking off your shoes, plugging in your earbuds, and getting right to the warm-up stretches. 

Aizawa can’t help but watch, noticing how flexible you are. The way you bend this way and that, your muscles moving with every pose, makes his cock grow embarrassingly hard in his sweats.

The air between you is tense and thick with something he can’t quite describe: Awkwardness? Definitely. Desire? Possibly, on his side. He just can’t help himself when he begins to acknowledge how good you look in yoga pants. 

He quickly looks away, instead opting to look towards the empty treadmills on the other side of the room. What he wouldn’t give to get a handful of your ass, squeeze and spank the firm yet soft cheeks, and stroke that tail that invades his nightly thoughts.

Maybe you’d let him dig his fingers into the hole of your pants and rip it further, revealing the cute little panties hiding underneath. Or maybe you’d have none on at all. It would give Aizawa the perfect chance to pull those asscheeks apart and finally put his face in it as his tongue relishes the taste of your sweet, perfect, wet little– 

“Mind if I use these?” you ask, suddenly next to him. He nearly jumps, finding you pointing at the eight lb dumbbells that Mic left.

He finds his voice after swallowing the lump in his throat. “Go ahead; I’m not usin’ ‘em.” He hopes that sounds the least bit of kind. You smile in thanks though and silently take the dumbbells from the spot Mic left them in. 

He silently and sneakily watches as you begin to do your leg and glute workouts with some dumbbell lifts added in the mix: squats; lunges; kickbacks. All done right in his face.

Do you know what you’re doing to him? Can you see the bulge growing in his sweats? Obviously not since your eyes are facing straight ahead, focusing strictly on your workout. 

‘Fuck this,’ he thinks, sexually frustrated. He isn’t going to resort to being a perv.

Quickly, he puts his dumbbells down and walks out of range to the other side of the gym farthest away from you. He walks straight up to the pull-up bar where he left his duffle bag for a specific reason. He usually goes for either cardio or dumbbells first to get his arms warmed up before proceeding with the “real” workout. 

Aizawa takes his scarves out of his duffle and carefully wraps them around the pull-up bar, making sure to pull it tight enough so the scarves don’t unravel. Once finished, he wraps his fists up in each end of the scarves and begins to do his special arm exercises. 

He uses his scarves as one would use resistance bands to build their upper arm strength, doing warmups to get the blood flowing in his arms. He concentrates on his bicep and tricep curls, and wrist exercises to keep his arms limber yet controlled, sweat beginning to drip into his eyes from how hard he’s going into his workout.

He is finally able to focus on something other than you. ‘Thank God.’ 

Feeling like his arms are warmed up enough, he grips his scarves into his fists and pulls himself up, his arms clenching from his full body weight. He straightens his arms and crosses one foot over the other as he straightens his back.

He envisions himself on a tightrope, forcing himself to stay still despite his arms beginning to rest since they’re the only things holding him up. 

Grunting softly from the burn in his arm muscles, he relaxes his arms only to slowly flip backward, his movements controlled from many years of training. He finally lands back on his feet, bending his knees slightly to avoid injuring himself.

When he releases his scarves, his hands are red and his fingers ache from gripping them so tightly. He’s gotten used to that though. It is what comes with the pains of being a pro. 

“That was really cool,” you suddenly say from behind him in the mirror. Your eyes are trained straight on him, wide with astonishment.

He turns around, breathing heavily and wiping the sweat out of his eyes. “Sorry!” You blurt, looking ashamed at your staring. “I’ve just never seen anyone do that before. You work out with your scarves?” 

He notices the way your fluffy ears droop in embarrassment and he smirks to himself. “To keep myself familiar with ‘em,” he huffs before taking a sip of his water. “And to come up with new techniques. It never hurts to rehearse from time to time.”

He goes to take a seat on the floor to proceed with some push-ups, but as he does, a searing pain enters his lower back that makes him hiss. You stare on, concerned. “Just my back,” he reassures you. “Don’t worry about it.” The last thing he wants is for you to see him as old or decrepit. 

But his body betrays him once again as he tries to get into position, a sharp pain in his lower back stabbing him. “Ah, shit!” he swears, his hand immediately flying to his lower back to rub at the ache.

It doesn’t help at all. He must’ve not done as much stretching earlier as he’d hoped. He glances at you, expecting you to be laughing at him–the sight of Eraserhead suffering from back pain in his early 30s must be hilarious. 

But instead, you just look worried. “Maybe you should try this.” You slowly sit down in a crisscrossed position, your feet touching one another, and lean forward so your back is straight and your chest is touching the floor. “This pose really helps with back pain. I do this as much as I can since I sit so much during work.” 

Aizawa hesitates slightly, not wanting you to pity him. But with the way your soft eyes are coaxing him to follow, he mirrors your position anyway. As he slowly leans forward to straighten his back, he can feel some of that tension and ache beginning to evaporate. You smile in approval.

“Now stretch your arms up overhead,” you instruct him, raising your arms up to the sky. He follows, doing his best to hide back a blush. He feels like a little kid following your every move. 

“Good; now place your hands on the floor and stretch your arms out as far as you can go in front of you. Don’t push yourself.”

He follows you, raising his arms up before falling forward, his arms stretched out in front of him. He breathes deeply, allowing the stretches to do their work. He can feel the tension and aches in his muscles leaving him, his body recovering after his workout. 

“Feel good?” you ask, a smile in your voice. He hums in response, his eyes fluttering closed. “The butterfly position helps too! Looks like this.” He lifts from his position, finding you sitting upright with your hands holding your feet. Your knees begin to move up and down, mimicking those of a butterfly’s wings. 

Aizawa follows, feeling the stretch in his hamstrings and inner thighs. He raises an eyebrow at your smile like you’re trying to hold back a laugh. “You’re slouching,” you playfully giggle, rising from your seat to assist him. His heart begins to hammer in his chest as you kneel next to him. You’re so close.

“May I?” you ask, giving him a soft, round-eyed look. 

He nods, unable to speak. You move behind him and place a tentative hand on his lower back. He nearly shivers at your touch. Your hand is so warm. He wants to feel your touch everywhere.

Not to mention the scent of your shampoo. What is that? Coconut? It’s driving him insane. All he can think about is that scent being all over him after he’s done fucking you. 

“Just keep your back straight,” you utter, your breath fanning his cheek. “Grab onto your ankles for leverage if you need it.” Your voice is soft and inviting, coaxing him out of his comfort zone.

Swallowing harshly and forcing himself to not pop a boner, he does as you instruct: he straightens his back, puffs out his chest, presses his shoulders back, and grabs onto his feet. “Perfect!” you giggle, applauding him. “You’re a natural at this.” 

“So are you,” he blurts, his voice lower than normal. “A-At teaching, I mean.” You smile at the compliment as you rise to your feet. “I used to teach yoga on YouTube as a way to pay for school. I had a dream of opening up my own yoga studio, but I guess my calling was to be a counselor.” 

Aizawa commits the new info to his mental file cabinet on you. He can see you being a teacher in anything, knowing you’d do a good job with such a soft yet commanding aura. “I’ve been told my flexibility would make me a great hero,” you snicker, balling up your fists for a mock fight with him.

He chuckles, grunting as he stands. “It takes more than flexibility to be a hero.” 

You laugh at his statement, hands on your hips. “You say that even though you have back pain in your thirties,” you retort boldly, then flush with embarrassment when Aizawa raises a brow at you. “I read everyone’s birthday on the faculty birthday calendar.”

Aizawa practically melts. Why the fuck do you have to be so goddamn cute? “Back pain or not, as a seasoned professional pro, I also have strength, both upper and lower, technique, and strict control over my quirk when it comes to hand-to-hand combat. You’ll need it when you’re fighting villains.” 

You cock your head to the side, a purse in your pouty, kissable lips. “Show me some of them techniques then,” you playfully challenge, crossing your arms over your chest. “Since you’re so seasoned and so sure I don’t have what it takes.” 

Aizawa cocks a brow at you, feeling a zing of electricity shoot through him at this newfound side of you–you’re so playful and sassy. It’s fucking hot. “Alright,” he sighs, “but you don’t complain when you twist a muscle.”

He begins to walk over to the right side of the gym which is known as the training portion of the room. Several punching bags and makeshift people made out of sandbags sit there, ready to be used by any seasoned or up-and-coming pro to train for missions and fights.

Aizawa and you stand in front of a makeshift person, its head and body two heavy burlap sacks filled with sand. He turns to you, stepping into the roles of a trainer and sensei. “So, we’ll start with the basics. Start by facing your opponent and analyzing them.” 

You nod and turn to face the sandbag person, eyeing them up. He resists the urge to laugh at your cuteness. “If they have a quirk, what kind is it? Can you spot a weakness in it or your opponent’s body? Can you spot a pressure point perhaps? Maybe a place you can sink those claws into.” 

You glance at him, straight-faced. “Ha, ha,” you deadpan. "I don’t even have claws.” Aizawa thinks that’s a lie. He’d opt to find out in his bed (or yours; he ain’t too picky) while he’s balls deep inside of you and your hands are gripping his back. 

“So your opponent is coming at you,” he continues, willing the nasty thoughts away. “But you’re ready though. You’ll start by placing your foot on your least dominant side behind the foot on your dominant side.”

You do as he instructs, placing one foot behind the other. “Tilt your hips a little more so they’re angled to the side but facing me.” You attempt to do that as well, but can’t seem to angle your hips enough so they are parallel to your feet. A laugh in the form of a huff leaves his nostrils as he comes forward. 

“May I?” he asks, his eyes flicking up to yours. Silently, you nod. “Like this.”

He places his hands on your hips which is a horrible idea. Now his cock is throbbing, begging to be released from its prison in his sweats. Your skin is so warm from the slip of your stomach that he gets from your pants riding low on your waist. Your body is tense, but you don’t stop him as he twists your waist to face him and angles your hips so they are straight. 

“Now you’re gonna use your dominant leg to kick up and out, right at your opponent’s chest. Put your full weight into it.”

He steps back, allowing you to act out the move. You turn to your opponent and, with an inhale, you kick your leg up and out at the middle of your opponent’s sandbag body, grunting as you do. It barely moves. 

You turn to him with a shameful expression. “Let’s try that again,” he chuckles. “Push onto your opponent when your foot connects with their chest to push them down and away from you. Put all your weight into your leg.”

Once again, you try, letting out a forceful grunt as your foot connects with the sandbag. You push your opponent away, causing it to teeter slightly on its stand, and then fall backward. 

You gape down at it, an excited gasp leaving your lips. “I did it!” you shout in triumph, your ears and tail frazzled. He nods, crossing his muscled arms over his chest. “Not bad for a rookie,” he playfully says. “Maybe you’ve got some potential…some.” 

You turn to him, a mischievous and bold glint in your pretty, brown eyes. You purse your lips at him and lay your hands on your hips the way he wants to. “I’d say the same about you with yoga,” you retort, earning a chuckle from him and a surge from his cock.

You both stand there for a moment, staring at each other. No blinking. No talking. Just a surge of electricity that Aizawa can feel in the air. It’s intoxicating, dangerous, and so delicious. His eyes glance at your lips, zeroing in on how plump and glossy they are. He could just lean in and kiss you right now. 

His phone suddenly goes off in his back pocket, making you both jump. Growling deeply at the ruined moment, he pulls his phone out and finds the reminder he set for 5 PM. “Shit,” he hisses. “I should be cooking dinner around this time for Eri. I have to go.” 

“Oh, okay!” you reply, and he catches a glimpse of what he thinks is disappointment in your pretty eyes. Or is that just what he wants to see?

“I should be gettin’ back too,” you say, already moving to gather your things. “You just reminded me that I need to start cooking too before I end up ordering takeout again.”

Aizawa watches you, his heart clenching painfully. He doesn’t want to leave. He doesn’t want this moment to end with you. Can’t it just last a minute longer? “I could walk you back to your dorm if you want,” he suggests with a passive shrug. “It’s only safe.”

He keeps his tone tight and easy, but he’s dying for you to say yes. You look at him wide-eyed, shocked that he even offered. The little smile and nod you give him just about fills him to the brim with relief. So you don’t think that he’s a creep. 'Great start. 

After you both gather your things, Aizawa collects Eri from the playroom, finding her sleeping on the floor. “Time to go home, puddin’,” he whispers to her as he scoops her up into his arms. She sleepily groans, her head lulling against his chest.

Her eyes then flutter open to stare up at him. “Daddy, why are you smiling so much?” she groggily asks. He shushes her in response. 

Luckily, the little girl falls right back to sleep as Aizawa accompanies you on your journey to your dorm. It doesn’t take long, but the last few minutes of feeling you beside him are all he needs. When you finally make it to your door, you give him a grateful smile. “Thanks for walking me back.” 

He nods silently, willing himself to say something more. He thinks back to Mic’s words, conjuring up all the confidence he can muster to ask for your number. “Um, maybe we can do this again sometime?” he asks, a shy blush adorning his cheeks. “Just in case you ever decide to you wanna fuck up a sandbag person again.”

You blink at him, alarmingly quiet. He knew he’d fuck this up. It was all wishful thinking. Damn Mic and his advice! “O-Or you don’t have to,” he quickly adds. “No pressure. I just thought that–” 

“I’d like that,” you interrupt, giving him a dazzling smile. “I can give you my number or…” You trail off, looking just as shy.

Relief floods Aizawa’s body as he gives you his number instead, his heart pounding as you type his digits into your contacts. That’s all it took, and yet Aizawa feels like he just walked on the moon. “See you tomorrow then,” he mumbles, abruptly turning on his heel to avoid grinning like an idiot at you.

“Shouta, wait!” you suddenly shout. He abruptly stops and turns to face you, finding you to still be standing at your door. “I-I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” you weakly say.

He blinks at you, noticing how nervous you suddenly look. His stomach immediately plummets, wondering what the flip in your demeanor could mean. Are you having second thoughts about his number? Are you with someone already? 

Finally, you sigh, your shoulders slumping in defeat. “Nevermind; just be safe.”

You give him a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes before you turn, unlock your door, and disappear into your dorm. Aizawa doesn’t have time to ponder what just happened. He silently walks back to his dorm with Eri in his arms and dinner on his mind, expecting a quiet, normal end to the night. 

However, when he arrives at his door and spots the little black cat that has stolen Eri’s heart sitting by his dorm door, he realizes that tonight will be anything but normal.

“Look, Eri,” he coos, smiling down at your little cat form as you push your furry body into his legs, your trail curling around his ankles. 

“Our visitor is back.”

[shslskaterboy]

hyello

may i ask about And Then there was You? 🥺

You absolutely may 🙏

Attwy is my ongoing multi chapter pegoryu fic, so far I’m at 4 chapters posted with the fifth one in the works (oops got distracted don’t mind the 5-6 month gap in posting)

Basically it started bc I had a bazillion ideas of scenes from persona 5 I could rewrite to be More Gay and push my agenda, and then I went 👁️👁️ wait I can string this into a cohesive narrative. So it went from being a bunch of potential one-shots to an ongoing story about Ren and the pressure of compulsory heteronormativity, and the Oops I Think I’m In Love With My Best Friend But He’s Straight (he’s not but they don’t know that at this point 🤭) struggles.

As for snippets, allow me to pick an excerpt from each chapter for the funsies (including the unposted one whoa go crazy with it) and put them under the read more so this post isn't a thousand miles long

(but thank you for asking I am greatly proud of this one and it's a lotta fun to write and I'll take any opportunity to talk about it)

Why him? What a stupid question. Why not him? Ryuji was like the sun itself- Ren could be having the most shit day imaginable and all of it would be forgotten after one bright smile from Ryuji. He couldn’t even fathom what his life would be like now if they had never had that fateful meeting one rainy day. No one in the world was as easy to talk to, as easy to be with than Ryuji- it all came as naturally as breathing air, and if Morgana was gonna be weird about it, then that sounded like his problem, not theirs.

“You’re not going to be alone. Ever.” Ren repeated, louder this time as he took Ryuji’s uninjured cheek in his hand. His heartbeat had picked up again, but this time it was more determination than nerves. “That’s a pretty bold claim to make,” Ryuji snorted, averting his eyes as a soft blush crept into his face. “I’m serious Ryuji, I don’t care what happens, I will always be your friend no matter what,” Ren insisted, turning his friend’s face so he couldn’t shy away from his eyes. “You said yourself that life was scarier until we met, so as long as we’re together it’s never gonna be like that ever again, I swear.”

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad- he was at least comfortable, even if his erratic heartbeat kept him from getting much sleep. Yeah, it’s not like they hadn’t been in close quarters before, maybe not quite as intimate as this, but they were still best friends- this shouldn’t really change anything. This was something Ren kept telling himself as he tried not to have a heart attack every time Ryuji shifted in his sleep, never once letting his grip loosen. He felt guilty, but it was so easy to melt into the touch- if he wasn’t careful he might accidentally end up enjoying it. Nah that can’t be right, this was just an innocent indulgence, the natural byproduct of humanity’s inherent desire for contact and nothing more. It was that kind of thinking that allowed him to relax and let his guard down, almost able to fall asleep again as he listened to the sound of Ryuji’s slow slumbering breaths, and permitted himself to tentatively let his own arm drape across his friend’s side.

“Ren, you know I love you very dearly,” she said, placing her hand gently on his arm. “You have been there for me through it all; I don’t know if I’d ever have been able to face Shiho if it weren’t for your support.” He nodded slightly, unsure exactly where she was going with this. “You and Ryuji were both there with me during the hardest time in my life, and I could never express to you how much that means to me,” she continued slowly, before fixing her eyes resolutely on him. “But you two are being so monumentally stupid right now that it hurts to watch.”

He looked up at her, and she looked down on him, and for the first time in many many weeks, he felt like there was a light shining within him. The dark corner he’d taken to shoving things in had a spotlight on it now, revealing it to be completely bare- the last shadows of doubt slithering away as if Makoto had barged in with the world’s largest feather duster and started beating them over the head with it. Everything he’d thought, everything he’d felt, none of it had made sense until now- but with the haze cleared it almost seemed laughable how obvious the answer was.