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kaitsawamura · 4 years ago

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would you like to stay forever?

SUMMARY⎮ Sparring with Pro Hero Kirishima Eijiro in his private gym at his home doesn't seem like a bad idea if you don't count the fact that you really, really like him.

STATS⎮ minors do not interact, 18+ ⎮ Rating: M (for mature) ⎮ WC: 5525 ⎮ Pairing: Pro Hero Kirishima Eijiro x Fem!Reader ⎮ Tags: Aged Up Character(s), Friends to Lovers, Sparring, Smut, Fluff, Age/Experience Gap (if you really squint) ⎮ AO3

NOTES⎮ Thanks to @spacelabrathor for listening to me scream about this and to @some-kindofgnome for fueling my Kiri fever dreams. Yes, that title is based on a Mulan quote. This whole fic was based on THIS POST and Kirishima seemed like the perfect character for this pwp. Hope y'all enjoy! (Also please for the love of God, click on the banner to see in HD if you’re on mobile, it looks so much better lol)

It was Saturday and even though you’re on your way to becoming a Pro Hero, you can think of several things you’d rather be doing with your one day off than going to Kirishima Eijiro’s house to spar. But here you are pulling into his driveway, going over combat moves in your head as if your life depended on it. They weren’t really serving their purpose which was to distract yourself. Kiri had offered up his personal gym, encouraged you to stop by with one hand in his pocket and the other rubbing the back of his neck as if he was nervous.

A couple of his friends had already taken him up on the offer. You were the only one he’d offered who hadn’t come over yet. He had texted you a couple of weeks later saying he was starting to take it personally… and then immediately texted with a laughing emoji just to clarify he was only giving you a hard time. It brings a smile to your face now as you remember it. Yesterday he had also clarified it would just be the two of you if you were self-conscious sparring in front of other people. You’d have the whole place to yourselves. Like that should mean something. Which it did. It does , you realize with butterflies growing in your stomach. Kiri doesn’t need to know that though.

The two of you had been toeing around something since you had been hired at Fatgum’s Agency a year ago. Neither of you had made a move. Kirishima, the Red Riot, was a big Pro Hero and while you took pride in your quirk, it didn’t hold a coin to some of the others you’d come in contact with. It had surprised you when Toyomitsu had brought you on. But he had mumbled something about “liking your spunk” and that he thought a teleportation quirk would be a useful one to add to his agency. The first day you had shown up, Kiri had immediately caught your eye. Not for the obvious reasons. Obvious reasons being the fact that he was climbing the Pro Hero charts or the fact that he had a dynamically interesting quirk or that at twenty-five he was already built like a brickhouse.

Those were all valid reasons, yes, but what had pulled you in was his smile and his genuine interest in you outside of your quirk. But he was just like that you had quickly discovered. He knew everyone’s coffee order and what they liked for lunch. He knew when to push and when to back off. He knew when to talk and when to listen , knew when he still had a lesson to learn. The kids flocked to him. Even now you’re still entirely convinced that’s actually his quirk, getting people to like him. It’s not a difficult thing to do though.

Your brain stutters back to the present when a text notification pings from your cell phone as you sit in Kiri’s driveway, picking at non-existent lint on your gym shorts. The cute ones you’re still convincing yourself were your only clean pair and that’s the only reason you wore them.

KIRI : i saw u pull up, u gonna come in or what 😂

Had he been waiting for you to get there? You tapped out a quick response, one that hid the little flip in your stomach at the thought: creeper, you were watching for me lmao

Response bubbles immediately flash on your phone screen but you’re angling out of your car and shutting the door before he can reply.

Somehow, this house fits Kiri perfectly. It isn’t big. You had seen pictures of other top-ranking Pros’ houses. Enji Todoroki’s house, for example, was fucking ridiculous. But even without a massive floor plan, Kiri’s house is nicer than any you’d been in for some time. Clean, straight lines and lots of windows. In fact, you can see straight through the floor-to-ceiling windows out to his backyard when you reach the front door. Is that a pool ? Kiri had tons of fun showing pictures at the agency; it was a well-deserved investment for his already multiple years of service as a Pro. The pictures hadn’t done the place justice though.

Kiri comes to the door, throwing it wide open with a huge grin that shows off his sharp teeth. You ignore the way your mouth goes dry as he drags you in, babbling on like an excited little kid at you actually coming.

“I really thought you were gonna back out! I mean, that would have been fine, of course. I just can’t see the point of having the whole place to myself all the time.” He’s irresistibly cute, walking around showing you the living room and the kitchen and pointing out to the backyard where, yes, there is indeed a pool. “You can come over any time and use that too if you want!” You thank him, warmth pooling in your stomach at how incredibly nice he is.

“Uh, we should probably get in the gym. I have… stuff to do later,” you finish lamely. You don’t have anything to do later but very quickly you’re realizing how far out of your depth you are here. The familiar beginnings of the head over heels fall is washing over you in steady waves. But you’re coworkers and the thought of coming to work every day and having to see his adorable face and not doing anything about it is almost making you nauseous.

“Oh, yeah, it’s just down the hallway,” he rumbles, leading the way and you follow trying and failing miserably to calm the nerves flashing through your veins. You’re here alone with Kiri , the man you’ve been crushing on since you’d started working with him a year ago. And now your stupid brain isn’t just thinking about what it would feel like to run your tongue along his teeth or how his hands would feel between your legs. No, your stupid brain is thinking about what Kiri looks like when he first opens his eyes in the morning.

Your one-track mind is not getting any help, especially when Kiri walks through the doorway of the gym addition and immediately proceeds to pull his shirt up and over his shoulders and tosses it to the side. Shit. His back muscles ripple with the movement and when he turns to face you, it’s heart-wrenchingly obvious that he has no idea the effect he’s having on you. He has to know . Doesn’t he? From your end, it seems wildly obvious that someone as good-looking as him should know .

You glance around, eternally grateful for the fact that the gym is also attractive. Floor to ceiling windows span two of the walls here as well and there’s a large set of French doors leading out to the yard. You find yourself actually in awe when you get a better look at the landscaping. It’s so green . There’s a small patch of lawn but the rest is just artfully arranged native flora and fauna. Violets, tulips. Huge hosta plants. And cherry trees heavy with their signature sakura blossoms.

“Kiri, it’s beautiful!” He comes to stand beside you, looking out the French doors as well.

“You like it? I guess it is pretty nice, huh?” You glance up at him, your chest expanding on a lurch looking at his smile. You’d never noticed before but he has a light dusting of freckles across his nose.

“Yeah, really nice.” You look out again, letting the silence grow until it feels like the most comfortable thing in the world. After what seems like an eternity Kiri clears his throat, rocking back on the balls of his feet. “What are you thinking for today?” The question leaves your lips and you’re immediately regretting it; your stomach flips again when Kiri looks at you like you’re prey.

“Close combat, hand-to-hand combat. You did mention a while ago you wanted to strengthen that, right?” You throw your head back, rolling your eyes, and groan. The two of you make your way to the center of the mat.

“Yeah, I mean, I’d be scared to take me on too,” Kiri says, large hands on even larger hips. He isn’t as tall as some of the other heroes at six foot three inches but he’s wide , thick. You know for a fact you couldn’t wrap your arms around his waist and have your hands meet. He’s wearing the biggest shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen. The sharpened points of his canines are out and on prominent display. Famous last words you think as a snarl erupts on your face.

“I’m not scared , Kiri. I just don’t want to wear you out . You’re a Pro Hero. You’re on the job a lot more than I am. Plus, you’re getting kind of old. Is that a little gray I see coming in?” Kiri bares his teeth even more but it’s not lost on you that he quickly reaches up to rake his fingers through his hair. There isn’t any gray, obviously , but the thought has Red Riot distracted. Distracted enough that when you plant your feet and your fist connects with his face, your knuckles hit skin and not the reinforced rock of his quirk.

“ Shit.” Kiri takes a step back, reaching up to cradle his jaw. His tongue swipes out to lick at the blood on his bottom lip. His vermillion eyes find yours and if you didn’t work with him on a regular basis, you would have felt fear at this moment. You know he wouldn’t hurt you but even now, a thrill races through your veins like electricity. He looks as if he’s going to devour you. You take your own step back, readying your quirk, reaching out to it as your fists hold their position in front of your body. A dark chuckle spills from his chest as Kiri calls on his own quirk.

Now it was your turn to be distracted; you had always been fascinated by Kiri’s quirk, the way his body looked when it hardened up. The ripples of muscle still visible under the toughened skin. The divots and ridges and how they mapped their way across his shoulders and chest and abdomen. You knew how it felt to the touch in fake combat. The Fatgum heroes all took pride in maintaining a healthy routine; sparring was a common workout that was previously done at a local public gym. You wonder absently what it would feel like to touch him slow and at the moment. When you could give extra attention with extra time.

Kiri closes the space between the two of you at the moment your mind strays and you barely are able to teleport out of the way to avoid him crashing into you. You try to take a swipe at him as you materialize from in front of him to behind but this time he’s ready for you and he’s using his quirk. Instead of moving out of the way, he plants his feet and allows your punch to hit. Pain radiates up through your fingers and wrist. It always irritated you that you had to prepare yourself to strike Kiri when he was using his quirk. Otherwise, you’d be in for a whole lot of hurt every time you landed a punch.

Teleportation is a pretty handy quirk. It gives you a pretty good advantage the more you work on your close combat skills. The trick with Kiri was to keep going at him until he ran out of energy. You hadn’t gotten to that point yet; your quirk had its limits as well. You were only two years out of UA, Kiri was out by seven. His strength was already fairly unmatched; sparring with him was always good practice. You relish the thought of the day you can win a sparring session without tapping out. It surges through you like pure energy.

You teleport to stand in front of him again, shifting your weight into your hips and up through your right hook. This time your fist connects with Kiri’s side and he lets out a small grunt. Your fingers don’t hurt so bad this time and by the time Kiri is retaliating, you jump back a few feet. He hmms, a sound that reverberates from his chest.

“That’s all well and good but how do you expect to do anything if you jump that far away?” He lunges forward at a running start, leaping at the last second, sending his gloved fist into your stomach. You were fast, but still not always fast enough. You double over, the air rushing from your lungs and your pre-workout protein smoothie threatening to exit back the way it went in. Sweat is already beading on your brow and sliding under your tank top. You take a few breaths through your nose when an idea pops into your head; you stay bent over. “Hey, I didn’t hit you that hard. You good?”

Kiri comes to stand in front of you, leaving him vulnerable. He can’t see your smirk until it’s too late. You wail on him, using some of the basic combos he’s taught you before today. Satisfaction rolls through you when he actually takes a step back. But then he puts his arms up in front of him, clenching his abdomen and bending inward to protect his core. He drops just a fraction and before you realize what’s happening, he’s swiping his leg out to push through yours. You watch in slow motion as you see his laughing face then the ceiling of the gym as you flip and land on your back.

If you thought you were out of breath before… “Fuuu-.” It’s a wheeze that feels like it’s ripping your chest open. You’re seeing stars. Kiri stands over you, hands on his hips again. You stare at his face; the hero has his hair pulled back into a bun. You snort, rolling your eyes. Why does he still look so fucking good? The sweat has caused some of the pieces falling out of his hair tie to curl. His hair has curl to it? You’ve never noticed before, considering he always gels it into spikes. You like the curl. “Are you--are you gonna help me up, or what?” It was still painful to talk.

Kiri tilts his head to the side, just slightly, and crosses his arms. “I’m thinking not. Last time I let down my guard you got those good combos in.” You stare in stunned silence, sitting up so you’re supported by your elbows. Kiri shifts slightly and if you didn’t know better, you’d say he’s backing up to… get a better view.

“Is that any way to treat your student, Red Riot?” You know you get under his skin when he clicks his tongue against his teeth and holds out a hand with a begrudging eye roll. He pulls you up with ease, quickly enough that you almost lose your balance, swaying into his space. You look up, eyes moving back and forth between his.

He draws in a breath and drags his bottom lip between his teeth. “First of all,” he says as he places his hands on your upper arms, “I’m not your teacher. I’m not that much older than you. Secondly,” he mutters as he tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear, “our relationship isn’t that formal is it?” He’s so fucking close. This is getting dangerous. Dangerous because Kiri is within kissing distance. Dangerous because this gentle side of him is making you lose more breath than falling on your ass. Dangerous because the thought of Kiri taking you on the floor right now is almost too much to bear.

So you fall back on what you’re here to do. Fight. You flash him a wicked smile before rallying your quirk and teleporting a few feet away. His hand is still raised in mid-air and when his head whips to look in your direction, his crimson eyes are narrowed and his nostrils are flared. He laughs and rolls his neck, dancing on his toes.

“Okay. I see. I’m not gonna go easy on you, you know?” You snort and put your fists up in front of you again.

“As if you were going easy on me before, Kiri. Bring it on.” He smiles, the sharp points of his teeth enough to make your thoughts swerve again before you bring them under control. “Bring it on,” you whisper more to yourself as you brace for the fight.

Two hours later, you feel the strain in your muscles. Your quirk is running low on reserves and you know you won’t be able to use it much more. Kiri looks like he hasn’t wasted a breath but you can see he’s getting tired in the way his feet don’t move as sharply. And if the length of time he’s using his quirk is any indication to his state of mind, you know the two of you will be calling it a day soon. But you’re also both stubborn. And you’re dying to get one more good move in on him.

The cockiness the two of you had at the beginning of the sparring session hasn’t gone away but has burned hot into determination. No more smiles, only clear-headed concentration. The two of you are an arm's length from each other, throwing various punches and switching quickly between using your quirks and not. You’re breathing hard, sweat gathering at your brow as you throw another right hook that Kiri easily blocks.

“Get out of your head. You can be too predictable sometimes.” He doesn’t mean for it to come across as rude but the words strike a match to a guttering fire. You bare your own teeth at Kiri even though they aren’t sharp and probably don’t look nearly as threatening but it helps you feel powerful nonetheless. You drop without a second thought, lowering to your palms and sweeping your leg out in front of you in a wide arc. A grin spreads across your face when your calf meets Kiri’s ankle. He’s too physically dense for this move to work if he had seen it coming. But he doesn’t. And his solid 220 pounds of muscle falls hard.

You allow yourself the satisfaction of the moment for only a split second; Kiri’s recovery time is much shorter than yours so it isn’t long before he’s scrambling forward. He goes straight for your wrists to subdue you but with a smirk, you realize in his haste he’s put himself in the perfect position for you to possibly gain the upper hand. You scoot up away from him just enough to drag his arm forward and swing your legs around his neck. Then you elevate your hips and lock your core.

It’s over from there as you squeeze with every last ounce of strength left in your body. It doesn’t take long for him to tap out. You release as soon as you feel his loose hand tap your arm; he collapses over you and you’re too tired to move away or push him off. Now his breathing is rough and you feel a surge of pride. You reach up and place your hand on his head where his bun has come undone; he’s so heavy but it doesn’t feel bad. In fact, the feel of Kirishima resting his head and upper chest on your stomach is feeling nothing short of good . He’s still between your legs and suddenly the air is crackling with a new kind of energy when you gently comb your fingers through his hair.

He rises up, his hands on either side of you. His hips rest between your legs; the mingled heat radiating from both of you is almost more than you can take but there is no way you’re going to move anywhere. He leans forward, so close you can see the flecks of burnt orange in his eyes. If you moved forward just a little, you could close that space between you. He leans down more, his mouth right next to the shell of your ear.

“Maybe not always predictable. You did good today. Probably some of the best fighting I’ve seen from you so far. Keep it up.” He grunts, a shift of his hips allowing the curve of his cock to brush against your clothed sex through his gym shorts. He stiffens in what you think might be embarrassment. “Shit, sorry, let me just, uh--” The stuttering mess he becomes right before your eyes makes something lurch in your chest; you reach for his face without thinking.

“Kiri,” you whisper, rolling your own hips against his. His cheeks are burning a shade of red almost as vibrant as his hair. You bring up your other hand, holding his face between them and bringing him down to settle over you once more. Your lips meet his; he seems to war with himself for just a moment. A suspended second in time. But then he gives in, slipping his tongue against yours in a delicious sliding vision of what’s coming.

He reaches between you to slip his hand under your tank top; his hand is big and nearly encompasses your side. But it’s warm and gentle. Gentle. Who would have guessed that Red Riot could be so fucking gentle? But he is and when his hand moves lower to slide below the hem of your shorts, you give yourself to him with no reservations. His middle finger passes through the mess of your sex; a hissed breath rattles through his chest as your back arches on a ragged groan.

“ Shit. You’re so wet .” He slides his finger back and forth, gathering your slick on the thick digit. He takes his hand away and you mewl. “Can I?” He asks breathlessly as he hooks his hands on the hem of your shorts. You nod, eyes half-lidded. He pulls them down along with your underwear and the way he looks at you, at what’s between your legs, you don’t even have the wherewithal to feel self-conscious. Adoration. It’s the only word you can think of and it makes you wonder if you’d made a mistake waiting so long.

He’s on his knees when he takes your legs and drapes them on either side of his hips; this time he doesn’t hesitate in slipping his finger into your cunt. You nearly see stars just from that and if one finger is any indication, you’re in for it. Slowly, he adds another, his hand pumping into you in a steady rhythm. You’re grabbing for the ground, grabbing for him as a strangled noise pushes from your throat. He reaches out with his other hand to splay it across your sternum and it’s the only thing anchoring you as he adds the third finger before scooting down to put his mouth on your clit.

“ Kiri,” you keen, shoving your hips into his touch, frantically scrabbling for his wrist that’s on your chest just to have something to hold on to. He’s done this before, he’s had to. He’s too good. Too fucking good. Already there’s coiling in your gut as incomprehensible words tumble from your mouth. “Shit. Shit. Kiri I’m--I’m gonna--” He rumbles approvingly against your clit; the vibrations send you closer and closer to the edge and when it crests, your back arches near pain as you cry out, your voice echoing in the gym. It’s deep, roaring through all of your limbs but Kiri keeps going, fingers still pumping, tongue still swirling around your sensitive nub.

Another orgasm breaks over you sharp and quick and the overstimulation has your legs quaking as your arousal gushes over Kiri’s hand and tongue. But then he’s moving again, and you’re blearily aware that he’s shoving his own shorts and boxers past his hips to free his cock. You stare as it bounces back to sit near the planes of his stomach; it’s already leaking steadily with precum. Kiri looks back at you and when your eyes meet, you dart your tongue out between your lips to wet them. Another time, maybe.

Kiri leans forward to lift you up and the closer you get you can barely see any red in his eyes; his pupils are blown, his nostrils flared as he lifts you like you weigh nothing . He could snap you like a twig. But he won’t. You know without a doubt this is the safest you’ve ever felt, even as he lowers you slowly over his cock and it does feel like you’re being split .

“ Fuuuck…” You wrap your legs around him, your mouth dropped open, your hands gripping his shoulders. You try not to dig your nails in but it’s almost impossible with how you’re being filled. You knew Kiri was big but this was almost too much. His forehead drops to yours as he pants. But he’s not moving, won’t move until you tell him to. It makes your heart ache and your cunt floods, drunk on the affection thrumming through your veins. You roll your hips experimentally and the friction is bliss. “Oh fuck, ohfuck.” You move again, pushing yourself up and back down, listening to the hitch in his breathing. “ Kiri, please, ” you whisper. Those words… they’re enough.

Kirishima grips you by the hips, his fingers splayed and digging into the flesh; it’ll leave bruises and the knowledge cracks through you like electricity. Let him leave marks. Let him leave them everywhere. He’s moving you up and down his cock, grunting, mumbling. “Tell me, Kiri, tell me.” His eyes meet yours again and his own mouth drops open.

“Fuck, you’re so good. S’ tight. Jesus, I-- ” Kiri moves his hands from your hips to support you as he lays you down on the floor of the gym. The idea should be questionable but it’s not, it’s fucking not and you can’t concentrate on any other thoughts when Kiri grabs your wrists and pins them gently above your head with one hand while the other comes back to your hip. He thrusts into you at a brutal pace but… it feels like home and you think in that moment as your cunt begins to seize around his cock that you would give up forever to continue touching him.

“Yes, Kiri, yes. Right there, right--shit yesyes yes. ” He pistons up, the veins of his cock rubbing just right and when he releases the grip on your hands, they’re moving to wrap around him on instinct. He’s planting kisses along your jaw, mouthing up to your lips and back down to graze his teeth over your pulse point. “Do it, fuckin’ do it, let them know ‘m yours, ” you slur and when he bites down you crash over the edge on a groan that’s really more of a scream. Everything goes black but you're cradling him to you as his movements become more erratic. The snapping of his hips is getting sloppier by the second and a steady growl punches from his lungs with each breath. “Cum, Kirishima, cum inside me.”

He’s never heard those words before and it lights a fire in his veins. His head is buzzing and then he can’t hear anything as his cock releases and he’s spurting searing hot ropes of cum into your cunt. He goes until you’ve milked every last drop from him and he’d be lying if he said his world didn't suddenly feel whole. Finally, his body settles and his chest drops to yours. Everything slowly bleeds back into focus and somehow, everything seems more colorful than it did moments before. You’re still clinging to him.

“Kiri. Kiri, babe, I can’t breathe,” you say and he slowly rises, taking in your blissed-out expression. Your eyes can barely stay open, your cheeks are flushed. He backs up to see his handiwork on display, hyper-focused on the trail of the mingling cum dripping from the mess of your sex. But you’re smiling. Lazy and tired, completely at ease. “Wanna take a shower?” When you nod he doesn’t hesitate in standing to kick his underwear and shorts the rest of the way off his legs and then he’s grabbing you, scooping you into his arms and against his chest. He pads out of the gym and across the hall to his bathroom where he deposits you on your feet, only after he’s sure you can stand and only long enough to turn the shower head-on.

He puts his hand under the water, waiting for it to get warm. Steam billows from behind the glass door when he’s turning back to you to remove your tank top and your sports bra. Thank god you chose the front-closure one today; you didn’t think either one of you wanted to struggle to get one up over your head right now. When your breasts spill out of the high-impact fabric, you notice with tender amusement that his cock is half-hard again. His eyes go dark again and he leans in for a kiss. But it's slow and sweet.

"You're so fuckin' beautiful," he whispers. He ignores his arousal, ushering you into the stream of water. Your care is the only thing that matters to him right now. The heat slides across your body, and when Kirishima steps up behind you and begins soaping up your shoulders, it feels like heaven .

You take turns washing each other until you’re both blissed out in a different kind of way and the only thing either one of you can think about is sleep. But the afterglow is fading and doubt is creeping in. When you step out of the water, you stand awkwardly as Kiri hands you a towel. “You okay?” He’s actually concerned and you can’t put your finger on why you’re so fucking grateful for it.

“Yea, just tired. I should, uh, probably get going.” Kiri freezes and you think you’ve said something wrong, already crossed a line. Your brain is like a broken record as the stomach-curdling image of having to see him at the agency flashes across your eyes in vivid detail. But then he’s stepping into your space and pulling you in for a hug. A hug.

“Don’t go,” he whispers into the crown of your head and it has you smiling like an idiot against his chest. His skin smells clean and warm with a hint of spice. You bury your face further in as you nod against him. Then he’s leading you to his room, to the king-sized bed. He peels back the comforter and the white sheets and pulls you in beside him. Your back is against him and he hooks his foot around your ankles, bringing you even closer.

He doesn’t say anything more, just lets out a huge sigh as he wraps his arm around you. The last thing you notice before your eyes flutter shut is how your heartbeats are thumping at the same steady rhythm.

Late afternoon sunlight slants in Kirishima’s bedroom window, creating interesting patterns across his blanket. It’s pushed towards the end of the bed, your legs intertwined and tangled in the sheets. He’s still dozing, his breathing not quite that of someone sleeping but not of a person fully awake. You reach out to cup his cheek, stroke above his eyebrows, caress his lips with your thumb. A contented sigh leaves his chest as he grabs your hand and kisses your wrist. His eyes are open now and he watches you. You smile at him, snuggling closer, not wanting the moment to end.

“Hey,” he says quietly, suddenly serious. “I just want you to know, I don’t do this all the time. I mean, I’ve been with other people before but I don’t… I don’t really hook up .” Things start clicking into place as you realize what he’s trying to get across. He just fucked you stupid in his personal gym and somehow he looks bashful. And because you love it, you’re not going to help him along. You just watch, biting your lip to keep from giggling. “I just. I guess what I’m trying to say is I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time. And normally I would have wined and dined you first but... Well. Here we are. Would you like to stay for dinner?”

That’s the last straw; your laughter comes bubbling out of you and Kiri is leaning back to look at you with a quizzical expression on his face. “Is something funny?” That just makes you laugh a little harder but the confused look he’s wearing has you leaning in to press your lips against his.

“I’ve liked you from the first day I met you, Kiri. I’ll one-up your offer and tell you that I might like to stay forever.” A grin rips across his face and your heart blooms with warmth and affection. The world seems full of possibilities but none of them matter except for the possibility laying right in front of you.

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima eijiro #kirishima eijirou #pro hero kirishima #red riot #kirishima smut #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #kaitsuki writes #oh my god i had such brain block #writing this one #because i get too in my head writing smut #BUT i hope everyone still enjoys #we stan kiri in this house

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there-must-be-a-lock · 4 years ago

Text

Contact Comfort

Spencer Reid x (gender neutral) Reader

Word Count: ~2000

Warnings: None, really? Emotional hurt/comfort and sorta like a touch starved deal doing on, but it’s pretty thoroughly fluffy and sugary-sweet.

A/N: For the “bed sharing” square on my @cmbingo card!

Title is from the referenced psych study, because I’m a dork.

“One sec,” you call, wincing at how thick and nasal your voice sounds.

You wipe your cheeks hastily as you sit up. It’ll be obvious anyway, though; wouldn’t take a profiler to notice your tear tracks and blotchy face.

It’s Spencer. Of course it is — because he’s the last person you want to see you like this, when you’re all snotty and puffy and gross.

His eyes go wide and solemn when he sees your face, genuinely distressed. There’s that empathy again, the too-big heart that everyone seems to overlook in favor of his big brain. You love him for it.

Well, you love him for a lot of things.

“Hi,” he says quietly. “I was going to just ask if you were okay, but… I guess I don’t actually need to ask now.”

You let out a watery little chuckle. “Guess not.”

“You want some company?” He looks hopeful, almost, and then seems to catch himself, dropping his gaze with a shrug. “I understand if you just want your space, though.”

If it was anyone else, you absolutely would not want company right now. But it’s Spencer, so. You pretty much always want him around.

“I was just about to turn on some shitty TV because it felt too quiet in here, honestly. Company would be really nice.”

He gives you a quick twitch of a half-smile as he steps past you, and after you close the door, there’s a pause where you both stand there and look at each other, Spencer suddenly shy as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, in a thin unhappy voice.

“Not really. Just… one of those days. One of those cases.”

“Can I do anything to help?”

You hesitate, because it seems like such an immature thing to say out loud, but you’re too tired to be anything other than honest.

“I could use a hug.”

Spencer’s expression goes all soft and sweet, and your cheeks feel hot under the drying salt water as he steps closer. He wraps his arms around you, and you bury your face in his chest and try to inhale. Your exhale is a ragged little shudder, and you fist both hands in the back of Spencer’s cardigan as you cling to him, feeling raw and sensitive and so very young.

He lets out a quiet, shaky sigh of his own, squeezing you tighter.

How long has it been since anybody hugged you like this? It’s like the contact — the warmth of him — the pressure of his arms around your shoulders — the rise and fall of his chest under your cheek — is lifting some massive weight you never realized you were carrying. All you want in the entire world is to hold him tight, take the comfort while you can, but you know you should pull away.

He hesitates for a second before releasing you, like maybe he doesn’t want to let go either.

Then he’s stepping back, hands in his pockets, slightly pink-cheeked as he bounces on the balls of his feet and gives you one of his frog-faced not-quite-smiles.

“You said something about shitty television?” he asks. “Or maybe we could watch some television that’s not actually shitty?”

“That sounds perfect.”

Turns out Planet Earth is on, which is the rare overlap in your and Spencer’s tastes, and it’s not until you’re eagerly toeing off your shoes that you realize the bed is the only seating option.

Spencer sits cross-legged, with his elbows on his knees and his chin propped on his fists, and he stays as close to the edge of the bed as physically possible. You lean back against the headboard and hug your knees to your chest, feeling the need to hunch over, like you could physically protect your heart.

Then again, it’s much too late for that. You knew your heart was in trouble the moment you met Spencer.

Today, especially, you already feel vulnerable, like all your carefully-constructed walls cracked open the second you let yourself cry, and now you’re just ripped-open and bare. You need a good night’s sleep and a long, hot shower before you’ll be able to go about your life as a professional, fully-functional, grown-up human again. Right now you’re just kind of a mess.

“I know there’s the germ thing,” you blurt out, without looking at Spencer. “But —”

His laugh sounds crackly and nervous, but relieved, like maybe he’d been holding his breath. “Come here.”

You give him a grateful smile as you scoot closer to each other, and apparently you’d been so worried about your own swollen eyes earlier that you hadn’t noticed the fatigue evident in every drawn, wan line of his face.

Not that he isn’t still the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

You duck tentatively under Spencer’s arm, and it’s not like you’re cuddling, exactly, because there’s still an inch or so of space between your hips and legs… but the bony plane of his chest, between collarbone and heart, makes a surprisingly perfect pillow. You pull the sleeves of your sweater over your hands, tucking them under your chin, curling up.

The moment feels delicate, like a soap bubble that you could burst if you simply breathe too loudly, and you hold yourself stiffly, at first, not wanting to move any closer for fear of pushing a boundary. It feels like you’re glowing at the points where your bodies are touching; the warm weight of his arm feels like bright spring sunshine across your upper back. His palm on the round of your shoulder is thawing away the last chilly bits of your self-consciousness.

When the commercial break starts, Spencer says, “Do you ever think about how little physical contact the average single adult experiences on a regular basis?” His voice is quiet and almost sheepish.

You smile. “Yeah, I’ve considered it.”

“Especially when we live away from our families,” Spencer says wistfully.

You can feel the vibration of his words in his chest. You shift, making yourself more comfortable, feeling dazed and dumb with his proximity.

“The monkeys. I feel like — you know?”

“Harlow. I know exactly what you mean.”

Trust him to get that from your ridiculously vague mumbling.

“Except they’re babies,” you add.

“The emotional benefits of physical touch don’t decrease just because we get older,” he says softly. “It’s just that the fear of judgement makes it difficult to be honest.”

There’s silence for a minute as the show starts again, and David Attenborough says something about sloths. Spencer’s thumb strokes your shoulder gently, back and forth, soothing. It’s hypnotic, and the tension drains from your muscles, leaving you more relaxed than you’ve felt in a long time.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

You swallow hard. “For what?”

“Being honest.”

There’s no reason for your eyes to be stinging like this, but they are. “I should be thanking you.”

“Nothing to thank me for. This is… really nice.”

“Yeah. It really is.”

He’s quiet again.

Spencer smells like vanilla and old books — although the latter might just be your imagination, something to do with the power of mental association — Spencer could probably explain the science behind that. Your brain has them inextricably linked, though. You’ve caught hints of that smell before, but never up close like this.

The softness of the worn knit of his cardigan makes you want to rub your cheek against it like a cat. His arm, skinny as it may be, feels like protection — like you’re safe here.

After the brutal violence of the case and the emotional turbulence of the day, this quiet, golden moment is even more breathtakingly peaceful by contrast. It doesn’t feel real.

It’s too good to last. This isn’t yours. It’s not going to last, no matter how right it feels, and your chest already aches with the idea of letting him go.

You try to appreciate it while you can, to remember every sensation, but your body is leaden, exhausted down to the bone, completely drained of whatever adrenaline-stubbornness-caffeine combination was keeping you running until now. Spencer’s thumb rubs invisible circles on your shoulder, and he breathes evenly, and you feel safe.

You’re asleep before the next commercial break.

A distant car alarm wakes you, sometime later. In the handful of seconds before it’s turned off, you come to without opening your eyes, trying to remember where you are and who you’re with. The smell of vanilla makes you relax instinctively, before you can process why.

Spencer has all but melted against you in his sleep, soft and boneless. He’s got both arms around you now, holding you close, his breath tickling your forehead. Then he stirs, and you can feel the moment he realizes where he is, because his muscles go tense as he freezes.

“Sorry,” he murmurs hoarsely. He’s barely audible over the infomercial voices coming from the TV. “I didn’t mean to — sorry. I’ll go.”

And before you can think better of it, you whisper, “Don’t.”

He’s still frozen, and silent for a second that feels like an eternity. “You mean —”

“I don’t want you to leave. Stay.”

Honesty seems to be your default setting tonight, and anyway, you can tell without looking at a clock that it’s long past midnight, well into the early-morning hours where boundaries and reservations and reality don’t seem to follow their usual laws. You can’t lie to him (or to yourself) right now.

Spencer’s voice cracks as he says, “Okay. I’ll just — let me get the light.”

You don’t open your eyes as he slips away. This all seems like a dream, and the sharp bright lamp light might make it dissolve around you. You might wake up.

The TV goes quiet, and when you tug at the hotel comforter, sliding between cool sheets fully clothed, the barely-there rasp of moving fabric sounds loud in its absence.

Spencer turns off the lamp, and you open your eyes. You can just see his shape as he navigates the dark room, negative space on a charcoal backdrop, but as your vision adjusts, you can see a faint suggestion of his features in the blue-black.

You feel it, though, when his weight makes the springs of the old mattress dip. You’d expected him to lie on his back again, but instead his face is just inches from yours when his cheek comes to rest on the pillow. You feel the way he’s breathing, quick and shallow and nervous. You feel your heart kick in your ribs, thudding so loud he must be able to hear it.

He reaches out slowly, hooking an arm around your ribs, and pauses with just the very tips of his spidery fingers touching your back, between your shoulder blades: five soft points of contact that you feel so intensely they might as well be electrode pads connecting you to a defibrillator.

This is crossing a line, and you both know it.

It’s not a sexual touch, it’s not that sort of thrill going through you, but something about this feels profoundly intimate. That intimacy is almost more shocking than lust might’ve been, and it’s much more dangerous. It’s the sort of closeness you don’t walk away from unscathed.

Spencer’s fingers flutter, butterfly-wing delicate, like one or the other of you might be trembling.

“Are you sure this is okay?” he whispers.

“Yes.”

Maybe you’re both trembling.

His palm comes to rest on your back, easing you closer, and you shift, settle, readjust. He pulls back and tilts his head just long enough to brush his lips over your temple, soft and sweet, before tucking you neatly under his chin, where you fit like you were meant to be there, with your nose nudging at the gap between his collar and the delicate skin of his throat.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispers, sounding just as awed as you feel.

“Sweet dreams, Spencer.”

If you enjoyed this, please reblog or leave a message!

More Criminal Minds fic is here.

#cmbingo21 #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader

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triptuckers · 3 years ago

Text

Our future - Jesper Fahey (Our Future 1/3)

Request: yes! “I can never get enough of the way you write Jesper and I reread them quite a lot 🥺 Since I am really in the mood for some Jesper fluff I was wondering if maybe you want to write one where Jesper asks his gf to marry him? I would really appreciate it and thanks 💛” Pairing: Jesper Fahey x reader Summary: You spend a rare peaceful morning with Jesper, and he asks you to marry him Warnings: so much fluff it almost makes you throw up. maybe I love jesper a lil too much Word count: 870 A/N: anon, I'm gonna be honest with u. almost cried when I read your request. thank you so so much for rereading my fics it really means a lot to me <3 your request is so cute & got me deeeeep in my jesper feels again, hope you like it, enjoy reading!

You wake up, and it takes you a moment to figure out what woke you. You can see it’s barely dawn, and are confused as to why you would wake up. You weren’t exactly a night owl, but you didn’t get up this early on a regular basis.

That’s when you feel something tickling your skin.

You turn slightly and look over your shoulder. It turns out it’s Jesper’s breath on your neck that you feel.

Last night when you went to bed, you were laying with your head on Jesper’s chest. But during the night, he somehow managed to wrap his arms around you and tangle his legs with yours.

You smile and slowly brush your fingers through his hair, soaking up the peaceful moment. You lay in the dim lit room like that for a while, secretly hoping every day could start like this.

After some time, Jesper stirs awake but he doesn't open his eyes. All he does is bury his face deeper in your neck.

Then Jesper mumbles something you can’t understand.

‘Good morning to you too.’ you chuckle. ‘What was that?’

Jesper lifts his head from your neck and rests his chin on your chest. ‘I said I wish we could stay like this forever.’ he says.

You smile and lean in to kiss his forehead. ‘Me too.’ you say. ‘But this is Ketterdam. Moments like this are rare.’

‘Let’s move to Novyi Zem then. We can have a farm like the one I grew up on, have a good life.’ says Jesper, making you chuckle.

‘My entire life is here, Jesper. You’re here, I don’t need a farm for a good life, all I need is you.’ you say. ‘And I can’t just abandon the life I’ve built here.’

‘Life here is good, but it’s messy. Dangerous.’ says Jesper, moving so he can lay next to you. You roll over to face him.

‘It’s the Barrel, we’re in a gang, of course it’s dangerous.’ you say.

‘It’s just...’ his voice trails off.

‘What’s on your mind?’ you say, reaching out to lay your hand on his cheek.

‘I've thought about a future with you.’ he says. ‘And it isn’t in the Barrel.’

‘You’ve thought about a future with me?’ you say, somewhat surprised. You always liked to live in the moment. Sure, you’d spend some time thinking about your future, but not a lot.

‘Yes.’ says Jesper.

‘What’s it like?’ you ask him.

‘Well, it’s very peaceful. Every morning is like this. We live in a nice cottage on the countryside. All of your favorite flowers are in the garden. You married me, and we’ve got twins running around.’ says Jesper.

‘Twins huh?’ you say.

‘They have my excellent looks.’ he says, making you laugh.

‘And I marry you?’ you ask him.

‘Yes. Even Kaz cries at our wedding.’ he says.

‘What’s our wedding like?’ you ask him.

Jesper smiles and pulls you closer.

‘It’s a spring wedding.’ he says. ‘You have a gorgeous dress, absolutely stunning, I can’t stop smiling when I see you. Might even shed a tear because you’re so gorgeous. I'm looking handsome as always in a very nice suit. It’s a small wedding, but everyone that matters is there. We party until it’s dark and you can’t walk in a straight line because of the drinks you had.’

‘That sounds accurate.’ you say. ‘And better than what I can come up with. I should let you do the planning, then.’

‘You’ve thought about our wedding as well?’ he asks in surprise.

‘Not as much as you have, but yes.’ you say.

‘You’d marry me?’ he says.

‘For someone who has just described what our wedding is going to be like in detail, you sound surprised.’ you say teasingly.

Jesper pushes himself up to a sitting position, pulling you with him. You pout, pulling some of the covers with you to keep you warm. He ignores it.

‘You’d marry me?’ he says. ‘It’s not a dream or something, but you’d actually marry me?’

‘Yes.’ you laugh. ‘All you gotta do is ask, Jesper. Life’s short, and I want to spend it with you.’

Jesper grins at your words and reaches out to the bedside table. He gets one of his rings and slides off the bed, kneeling on the ground.

‘Jes?’ you say, a bit confused.

‘I'll get you a proper ring, not one of mine, I promise.’ he says, holding up the ring to you. ‘You’re right, life’s short and I want to spend it with you. Here in the Barrel, you never know which day is going to be your last. Even though I already know the answer, I'm going to ask you anyway. Will you marry me?’

You smile widely and feel tears in the corner of your eyes.

‘Yes!’ you say happily. Jesper slips his ring onto your finger and leans in to kiss you.

‘I do expect it to be a fabulous wedding.’ you say.

‘Love, have you met me? Everything is fabulous with me. Our wedding’s going to be fantastic.’ he says.

‘Want to place a bet on wether or not Kaz is actually going to cry?’ you say.

‘Oh, it’s on.’ says Jesper.

Read part two here x

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

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elizabeethan · 4 years ago

Text

Overboard: 1/1

Emma Swan spends years trying to find her parents, and when she finally does, she gets more than she bargains for

A Silver Hook AU for @the-darkdragonfly

hours of watching Wicked Tuna has ruined me and thus this AU was born. Sorry...

Thank you to @the-darkdragonfly, @donteattheappleshook, and @xhookswenchx for listening to my ramblings

Rated M

Read on Ao3

Read my other stuff

~~~~

The sun pours through his blinds, assaulting the lids of her eyes as she squeezes them shut. Delicate fingers dance across the expanse of her bare stomach, making her giggle before she even has the wherewithal to stop herself. As sleep leaves her assuredly, she should feel irritated, but she feels nothing but comfort in her bedmates arms.

“It’s rude to wake people up,” she chastises, and his answering hum is deep and rumbling against the skin below her ear. “Shouldn’t you have learned your manners by now?”

“Are you making fun of my age?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she whispers back, giggling as he pokes his tongue against her skin and then nips at it lightly.

“That’s good. Because one mustn’t disrespect one's elder.”

“And you are quite a bit older than me,” she points out in jest, rolling onto her right side to face him straight on, her smile beaming as the sun lights her golden hair. He distracts himself from their morning banter to run his fingers delicately over her temple, tracing over the shell of her ear as he tucks a wayward strand behind it.

“I seem to recall you being a bit more appreciative last night. What was it you said? Something about my extensive practice?”

Emma hums softly, nuzzling her face into the skin of his palm as she recalls their rather satisfying evening. “It’s true,” she tells him. “With great age comes great experience.”

Killian laughs, refusing to let his thoughts of being too old for her taunt him. “I can assure you, I’m not nearly as experienced as you may believe.”

With a small shrug, Emma wriggles under the thin sheet that covers them until she can sling her legs over his own. “You’ve got a good decade on me. And trust me, you know what you’re doing.”

Killian falters, holding her cheek with his palm again as he pushes away more thoughts of self doubt. He stops himself from correcting her- fourteen years, love- and chooses instead to lift his head high enough to meet her lips with his. In the six months that he’s known her, he’s been endlessly fascinated by her free spiritedness. And in the four months since she joined him in his bed, hardly giving him much of a choice to deny her of what she so desperately wanted, he’s been unable to go much more than an hour without thoughts of her plaguing his mind. Thoughts of her body and her mind and her most alluring personality.

He’s falling for her, of this he is completely certain.

She grins against him in response to the groan that escapes his throat, her tongue lightly tracing the lines of his collarbone and making it that much harder for him to consider getting out of bed. “I’ll surely have a mutiny on my hands if you don’t stop now, love.”

Humming in question, Emma sits up and gives him a look of disgruntled confusion. “Your crew is going to be mad that you’re getting laid?”

With a smirk, one that he tries to fight, he shakes his head and says, “my crew is going to be mad if I miss another day on the water.”

Rolling her eyes, she responds, “I suppose I can’t keep you from your livelihood forever,” in concession.

He rolls them easily, Emma much lighter in weight than his usual catches as he flips her onto her back and latches his mouth to her neck. “That’s very considerate of you, siren,” he says against her warm flesh.

“I told you, I’m not a damn mermaid,” she says, likely rolling her eyes before she lets out a soft sigh.

“Aye, but I find myself struggling to believe you as you continue to seduce me with your wicked ways.”

Snorting softly, she meets his mouth with her own, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth gently and tracing her tongue along the tip of his own. She lets her hands wander, careful not to get too explorative with the knowledge that he should be getting up soon as she scrapes her fingers down the taute skin of his back. Despite her jokes, she really doesn’t want to keep him from his vessel. She knows his crew relies on their captain to bring them out each day, especially as the season comes to a close and the pressure to catch becomes more and more. But the way he kisses her gives her other ideas all together.

“I think one day I’d like to go out with you,” she hums thoughtfully against his mouth, and he stills anxiously. When they first met upon her first coming to town, Killian was almost embarrassed to tell her what he does for a living for fear of her judgment. Her genuine grin as he explained the way his family has been fishing for generations quelled his nerves, but still it felt like his profession wouldn’t be good enough for the likes of her.

“It can be quite dangerous,” he tells her instead, wanting not to dwell on the twinge of embarrassment that sits in the pit of his stomach at the thought of her watching on as he battles each and every paycheck he earns.

“I’m sure you’ll keep me safe,” she flirts, tenderly stroking her long fingers through the hair at the base of his scalp and smiling softly up at him. The sun catches her eyes again, the emerald reminding him of the warm ocean water stirred up after a rough storm.

His smile is sad and awkward as he turns his face from hers, glancing out the window at the horizon. “I’m sure there are better ways for you to pass your time visiting our sleepy little town.”

“Killian,” she says more firmly, moving her hands to cup his cheeks and encourage him to look back down at her. “You know I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon.”

The look in his eyes when they finally meet hers cracks her hardened heart, his anticipation of rejection something she knows all too well. “No one would blame you for heading back to Boston, love.”

She shakes her head. “I came here to meet my parents. To get to know them. And while that’s still important to me… they're not the only reason I’m sticking around.”

He feels selfish, foolish, as he gazes into her deep, soulful eyes. Of course he knows that Emma has a reason to stay in town, but when she says that he’s a part of that, he becomes consumed with a sense of desperate want. A desire to become all of that for her. An insatiable craving to become everything to her.

Of course, he’s never had much of a way with words. Thoughts, that’s a different story. But getting those thoughts out of his mouth and into the air between them is almost impossible. So, rather than express himself to her in the way that any mature adult should be able to, he leans down and captures her lips with his in a kiss that he hopes tells her everything that she deserves to know.

“You're going to be late,” she murmurs against him. “And as much as it would be nice to meet your friends, I’d rather not do so while I’m naked in your bed. I have a feeling they’re going to come knocking down your door if you don’t get to the docks.”

“Aye,” he agrees. “Hopefully we get lucky today and I can come back in relatively early. Will sometimes loses the plot if we come in empty handed.”

She rolls her eyes, prepared to make fun of how painfully British he sounds as he crawls over her to the edge of the bed, giving her a rather distracting view of his ass. He may be quite a few years older than her, but the physical nature of his work, and his devotion to his crew leading to him doing as much work as they do, gives him a physique that she isn’t shy about ogling.

“Will you tell me when you get in?” she asks shyly, the two of them playing off of the others insecurities without meaning to. “I mean, you don’t have to. But I’d like to see you--”

He cuts her off with his mouth on hers, leaning over her so that the stubble on his chin scratches against hers. “Normally, if we catch something, we bring it to the harbormaster to have it dressed and weighed. Perhaps I can inform you when we’re there? And meet you afterwards?”

She smiles up at him, careful not to let his words stall her as she considers their content. Perhaps it should have been obvious by now, that a local fisherman should have to deal with the harbormaster on a fairly regular basis, but the topic has never come up and so it’s stayed far from the front of her mind. “Okay,” she finally chokes out nervously. She’s always been good at hiding the intricacies of how she’s feeling, but given the way his eyes narrow at her, she wonders if she’s losing her touch. “I look forward to it.”

“Very good. Perhaps you’d… that is… I wonder if you’d be amenable to--”

“Killian.”

He clears his throat, standing from the bed and stepping away from the mattress to grab one of his aged knit sweaters. He’s rather old school in his techniques, she’s found, and the old fisherman sweaters that he wears out on his small fishing vessel are no exception.

Watching as he wrestles a pair of jeans over his legs, she giggles and sits up, bringing his thin sheet with her to cover her breasts modestly. Finally, while he stands by the door and fascens his watch to his wrist, he asks, “I simply wondered if you’d perhaps be interested in joining me for… a meal.”

Emma sits stoically still under his sheets as he fiddles around the room anxiously, refusing to look her way out of embarrassment and fear of rejection. She knows the feeling well, so she sits and waits for his eyes to dart in her direction before she gives him a soft, encouraging smile. “Are you asking me out?” she finally asks, and she watches his throat bob up and down before he turns to face her.

Clearing his throat, he says, “ah, I suppose I am.”

Really, it’s about bloody time he asks. Each time they’ve been together-- each time they’ve been anywhere near each other-- it’s been with her making the first move. He should be grateful for her willingness to take the leap that they both want to take, but after four months, he figures he’d best put his fears aside and grow a pair already.

It’s not that he thinks she’ll say no, although rejection is painful enough. His worry is that she’ll say yes, and eventually realize how much better she could have it. He’s a forty-year-old fisherman, for goodness sake. At only just twenty-six, she could certainly land a man with a more respectable, more lucrative, less deadly job, and that fact isn’t lost on him. It hasn’t been since the moment he first saw her at The Rabbit Hole six months ago.

She hums happily, smiling up at him and nodding. “I guess this means you’ll have to come in tonight. Better catch a good one, Captain.”

~~~~

“Oi, he lives!” Will calls from the dock next to Killian’s small boat, grinning and shoveling a pile of ice into the compartment under the deck. “We were worried you’d forgotten about us.”

“No,” Killian replies simply, shaking his head and climbing aboard. He makes his way into the wheelhouse, dropping his bag and turning the engine over. “We’ll need to get fuel before we head out.”

“Something you forgot to do last night? Perhaps you were too busy?” Robin asks, winking at his captain.

He rolls his eyes rather than responding, turning the engine on and checking the gauges as he listens to his mates making assumptions about his whereabouts.

When they finally get out onto the water, they avoid the other boats in the fleet in favor of finding solitude. A lot of the other captains think that Killian has some secret knowledge about the best places to drop anchor, but really, he just listens to his gut and gets lucky most of the time.

“So,” Will starts once they’ve put their lines out and chummed the water. “The blonde?”

Killian glares at his deckhand and friend, unwilling to give him much information about what he gets up to when they’re not at sea. He knows they did a piss poor job of keeping things quiet when they started up… whatever it is that they’ve started up, what with Emma practically jumping him after a few too many flirty comments were exchanged between the two of them. Everyone in the Rabbit Hole saw them that night, Emma’s fingers tightly gripping the lapels of his jacket and his sliding under her shirt and into her hair. Everyone saw them leaving together, too. His desire to hide her away and ensure that no one ever finds out about them is wholly unreachable at this point. He only wishes that he could quell his own fears about the judgment that the townsfolk must be passing on them. Emma is young, Killian is decidedly not. Emma can do better, Killian is batting far out of his league. Emma is an energetic young lady with her whole life and an endless amount of opportunities in front of her, Killian is a mildly successful fisherman. He can’t ever hope to be good enough for her, and the whole town knows it.

“Aye, the blonde,” he finally mumbles, wishing he could dive into the waves and never be heard from again.

“She’s quite something.”

“Aye.”

“A few years younger than you, if I had to guess.”

He glares to his left as Will continues to reel in some herring to use for bait, catching five at once without even blinking. Their age difference isn’t a secret, and it isn’t difficult to pick up on by simply observing the two of them for a few moments. The wrinkles around Killian’s eyes and the gray peppered throughout his hair and concentrated at his temples makes his age quite obvious. Meanwhile, Emma’s flawless physique and supple skin gives way to her youth, although her maturity is observable as well. One couldn’t possibly guess her to be a day over twenty-eight, and even then, she may seem too young for him.

Finally, he agrees, “aye.”

“Well, I think they make a lovely couple,” Robin supplies, poking his head out of the wheelhouse. “Sorry sod deserves a bit of happiness, finally.”

Rolling his eyes, Killian can’t help but agree with his friend’s sentiment. Despite the awkwardness and the assumptions of others, he can’t deny how happy he’s been since she rolled into town. And he definitely can’t deny how much happier he’s been in the last four months since she went home with him.

“I’m not sure she’ll be in town much longer,” Killian finally says after too much silence passes between the three of them, their lines quiet and the ocean seemingly empty below them.

“Didn’t she come searching for her parents?”

“Aye, she found them when she first arrived. But I can’t imagine her sticking around… I believe she simply wanted to get to know them a bit and then head back to Boston.”

Will and Robin must read the shift in his mood easily, the obvious disdain for the idea of her leaving Storybrooke and going back to the busy city where she could so easily meet someone worthy of her time. Perhaps he should let her go himself, be the one to make the difficult decision for them so as to not drag things out too long, but he’s a glutton for punishment and can’t possibly consider the idea of being separated from Emma Swan for a second longer than he absolutely has to be.

Rather than continuing the topic and torture Killian with thoughts of Emma inevitably leaving him, they change the subject to something equally as painful when Will jokes, “I’m sure her parents love you, aye? That age difference must have gone over well with dear-old-dad.”

Killian cringes and shakes his head. “I doubt they even know about me. I certainly don’t know much about them, aside from what she’s told me.”

“So she talks about that stuff with you?”

“Aye.” Will make a face, clearly surprised at his statement, and glances over at Robin suspiciously. “What?”

Robin shakes his head, casting another bait line, and says, “Nothing, we both just assumed it was just sex, that’s all.”

“What do you mean?” he asks curiously. It’s not because this is just sex to him, but because he’s curious about what they seem to think makes it not just sex for Emma.

Will laughs lightly, cheering when he brings in another line full of herring. “Mate, if she’s talking about her family, it’s not just sex.”

He hums thoughtfully, supposing that must be true. Emma wouldn’t confide in him about her upbringing— and her trauma, and her fears of abandonment— unless she was comfortable with him, would she? She wouldn’t have tried to process her feelings surrounding her adoption if she didn’t trust him, would she? She wouldn’t have agreed to a date with him tonight if some part of her didn’t like him, right?

“I love the look on his face when realization strikes,” Will jokes, bumping Killian with his elbow. He looks like he’s about to say more, perhaps another jest, perhaps something that will give Killian more insight into his companionship, but the radar starts marking fish and they each stand still and silent in anticipation.

The line starts clicking with the indication that something may be going for the bait, and when the reel begins screaming as the fish in question tries to escape, they jump into action. There’s shouting and running and fierce reeling, and it’s almost enough to get Killian’s mind off of Emma bloody Swan.

~~~~

Emma tries not to drag her feet as she makes her way down the main dock, the chilled ocean air sending a shiver down her spine despite her borrowing Mary Margaret’s windbreaker. With the season coming to close in a few weeks, the late fall weather sends a damp chill through her bones that she isn’t used to despite growing up in Minnesota.

It’s not as if she isn’t excited to see David this evening. She’s been spending time with him and Mary Margaret, and their son Leo as well, fairly regularly since she’s come to town. But things have been awkward to say the least.

She didn’t know about her brother when she arrived in Storybrooke. Finding out about him, finding out that he’s just turned eighteen, making them almost eight years apart, hurt a bit. Of course she understands that people change a lot in eight years. But the fact is, her parents had her and gave her away. They had her brother and raised him. It stings.

It stings. But it isn’t something any of them can change now. So she puts it behind her, just like Ingrid taught her.

If she wasn’t raised by such a soft, caring woman for most of her life, Emma’s certain she would be a different person from who she’s become. She had every chance to build walls as high as the eye can see, but Ingrid broke them down little by little from the day she welcomed Emma into her house when she was eight years old. After being given back by two families in a row, she was seen as broken, as damaged goods, as a stray no one could truly want. But Ingrid saw through her trauma and her bad behavior and welcomed her with open arms.

When she became sick, Ingrid gave Emma all of the information she was able to dig up on her parents. It wasn’t much to go on, and Emma initially refused to use any of it for fear of hurting her mother’s feelings. She didn’t want to make Ingrid feel like she was trying to replace her by finding her birth parents. But as Ingrid lay on her deathbed, the ovarian cancer too much for her frail frame to fight any longer, she begged Emma to seek her parents out, telling her that she deserves answers. That no matter the choice they made all those years ago, they deserve to know the beautiful woman they brought into this world.

She couldn’t exactly turn her down. So, traumatized and heartbroken, she put all that she had into expanding upon her mother’s research until finally, almost two years later, she found them.

David and Mary Margaret Nolan. She found them in a small fishing town off the coast of Maine, well known on the East Coast for their lucrative bluefin tuna fishing season.

It wasn’t exactly what she expected. And when she knocked on their door and a gangly teenager answered, she’ll admit to feeling slighted.

Okay, perhaps irrationally angry is more accurate. And if her method of coping was to go to the first bar she could find and get completely obliterated, so be it. The handsome man in the soft, cream colored sweater helping her to her room at Granny’s was an added bonus.

“Hey, Ems,” David calls from his makeshift desk where he does all of his accounting and paperwork. She’s sat here a few times before, but found herself bored out of her mind in a matter of minutes as she watched him work over his ledgers.

“Hi,” she greets back. She’s found that she doesn’t really call them anything. It doesn't feel right to call them mom or dad, because she had a mom. And while David may be her biological father, he isn’t really her dad. So instead, she doesn’t address them as anything.

“I’ve got a couple of boats coming in,” he informs her. “Season’s almost over, so the fish are big this time of year. You may get to see some record-breakers.”

“Cool,” she smiles, taking a seat on the folding table he sits at all day, cringing as it creaks under her weight.

“I think your… I think Mary Margaret is gonna come out tonight too. We were thinking of grabbing dinner. You know, celebrate the weekend, and all that.”

With a small grin coloring her features, her heart skips a beat at the thought of the sailor hopefully making his way to shore as they speak. She doesn’t doubt that he’s on his way, but she isn’t sure how happy he’ll be if he comes in empty handed and with an angry crew. “I actually have plans,” she tells him with a blush.

“Dinner plans?”

“Yep,” she answers with a nod. “A date.”

“A date,” David says, his brows drawing close together as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Who are you--”

He’s interrupted by his wife, her excited voice carrying across the length of the docks as she hurries towards them. “Emma!” she shouts as she gets closer. “Hi, honey!”

She tenses slightly at the title, still feeling uncomfortable when she hears words of affection coming from the woman who gave birth to her. She smiles anyway, waving softly and hopping off of the table, letting the woman embrace her briefly before pulling away. “Hi.”

“Did your father ask you to dinner? We figured we’d celebrate the weekend starting. Plus, it seems like the fleet did really well this week, doesn't it, David? The buyers are always more generous at the end of the season--”

“Emma has plans,” David cuts her off. “A date.”

“A date?”

“A date.”

“Do you guys mind?” she asks, only half joking. It’s been hard enough opening up to them and letting them into her heart and her personal life. She does try to not use humor as a way to keep them at a distance, really.

Mary Margaret clears her throat, smiling at Emma sweetly and only a bit awkwardly. “Who is your date with, sweetheart?”

“Well,” she starts turning to face David, “you might actually know him.”

“Oh, hold that thought for just a second, Ems. A boat’s coming in.”

She turns to face the water below them, noting the modestly sized vessel floating towards the loading dock. Two crewmen stand outside, grabbing for ropes as they pull themselves against the dock while the captain stands in the wheelhouse, diligently watching as he guides the boat. She smiles at the sight, taking in his ruffled appearance and the fact that he’s changed his sweater, wondering what happened out at sea to make the other one unwearable.

“Evening, Dave,” one of his mates calls, waving in their direction once the boat is secured to the dock. “We’ve got two big ones for ya.”

David praises him, watching as they open up a small hatch in the floor of the boat and reveal two massive fish. Emma’s never seen anything like it, the tunas taking up the entire space below the main deck. They must be almost twice as long as she is tall. “Think we’ve got a good thousand pounds here,” the other man calls as he wraps a rope around one of the tails. “Hope we can lift it.”

Killian trips and stumbles when he sees her, the blush on his cheeks spreading to his ears and down his neck and reminding her of how he looks when he’s about to finish inside her. The thought makes her blush as well as she grins down at him, giving him a small wave. He’s been quiet and shy for as long as she’s known him, but he’s also professional, and his silence and lack of greeting is almost concerning.

He climbs off the boat, hoisting himself easily onto the dock as the muscles under his sweater ripple with the effort. Clearing his throat, he finally makes eye contact with her, smiling awkwardly as his blush deepens. “Evening, Miss Swan,” he says sweetly, reminding her of when they met months ago. She’s not sure she likes it.

“Hi, Killian,” she responds with a smirk, making his blush deepen and heating him to an uncomfortable temperature in his dampened sweater. The first fish they caught was barely above the length requirement and relatively easy to hoist onto the deck, but the second has to be one of the largest they’ve ever gotten, and it put up one hell of a fight.

“You two know each other?” David asks, glancing between him and Emma, and it strikes Killian that she isn’t here waiting for him like he thought. She’s standing by the harbormaster, relatively close to his wife and child, and things start to fall into place in his mind.

They’ve talked about her parents briefly, about how they were young when they had her and made the decision to give her up at the persuasion of both of their parents. She told him about how they had a son a few years later and raised him. She just never told him that her father is the bloody harbormaster.

“Yeah,” she answers finally, giving David Nolan a smile that Killian recognizes. It’s the same one that David gives him when he catches a big fish; friendly and necessary but not entirely genuine. She doesn’t expand upon how they met, or how they know each other, or the nature of their relationship, and the harbormaster looks at Killian suspiciously as the machinery lifts his second fish onto the dock.

David evaluates each fish and offers him a hefty price for the both of them. The second one, the one that gave them such trouble, is over a thousand pounds, just like Will had guessed, so they make out very well after just one days work. Normally, their undeniable success would be enough to erase any negative thought floating around in Killian’s head, but all he can focus on is the fact that he’s pretty sure he’s standing beside the father of the woman he’s sleeping with.

He tries to be an adult about it, ignoring the awkward air that has settled between them as David’s family watches on happily, but when Emma asks, “are you ready to go, Killian?” everyone’s eyes dart up immediately.

Thankfully, the check had already been cut and handed to Killian, because he’s almost certain that he wouldn’t have gotten his hands on it if Emma’s question had come any sooner. He watches as David’s eyes grow twice their normal size, his wife’s mouth falling agape as she turns to stare at Emma in complete shock.

“No,” David says immediately, shaking his head in denial and turning to face his daughter. “Absolutely not.”

“Excuse me?” Emma asks, raising both brows in challenge and taking a step away from her mother and towards Killian. She sees his eyes widening and darting between the three of them nervously as the exchange becomes more and more tense.

The man, only slightly older than Killian, clears his throat and looks at his daughter again before saying, “please tell me you're not dating him.”

“How dare you,” she accuses immediately, stepping back once more until she stands beside Killian, his warmth radiating off of him and comforting her just slightly in the wake of her anger. She doesn’t even know why he would say something like that, what would make him feel the need to say that, but she’s quick to become defensive. She knows Killian is a good person, and she feels immediately as if this man has no right to dictate who she dates.

“Honey,” Mary Margaret starts, stepping closer to her and placing her hand on her elbow just as Emma pulls away. She looks in Killian’s direction awkwardly and tensely before trying again. “It’s just… he’s a bit older...”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” she says angrily, and notices David stiffening beside his wife.

“Emma, please. He just catches fish for half a year. You’re too young to be thinking about settling down with someone who doesn’t have a stable career. Not to mention, he’s almost the same age as me and your mother.”

She senses him becoming rigid beside her, his shoulders rising slightly and his jaw clenching in tense discomfort at the accusation. They’ve had this conversation briefly several times, sometimes jokingly and sometimes out of his own insecurities. He’s always seen himself as too old for her-- too old, too common, not good enough-- and the confirmation from her father surely hurts him.

Of course, they’ve never talked much about who her parents are. They’ve had their share of conversations about her past and why she’s here, so he knows plenty about the things that she’s been through, but she never felt the need to tell him who they are. She never even put two and two together that he may know her father until this morning. And now she’s hurt him by keeping this from him.

With shock and anger, she answers too loudly. “Well, it’s not my fault you guys had me at 17, it is? And are you really judging him for his job? He works hard every day!”

“Emma,” Killian tries softly, placing his hand on her elbow, but she pulls away in the same way that she had with her mother.

“No! They have no right to judge you for what you do for a living. Or us for our age difference. This is completely ridiculous.”

“It’s alright, love,” he says, resigning to the fact that he’s likely going to lose her. Her parents are right; his job is seasonal and not always as lucrative as he would like, and he’s closer in age to her parents than he is to her. It was bound to end eventually, he tells himself sadly, as she deserves so much more than he’s able to give her. “I’ll go.”

“You’re not going anywhere unless you're bringing me with you,” she gripes angrily, grabbing his hand in her own and yanking him away from where her parents are standing. He lets her pull him along, looking back nervously at the harbormaster and his wife as they gape at the two of them.

~~~~

“How dare they,” she grumbles, slamming his front door harder than he thinks she means to. “I mean, they barely know me, never mind you.”

“Emma,” he tries, but she refuses to let him get a word in edgewise as she continues her venting.

“It would be one thing if they had actually raised me. If they instilled in me these values that they seem to think puts them on a pedestal. But they gave me away.”

He guides her gently through his small cottage, the weight of his hand on the small of her back serving as a reminder that he’s here for her.

“Emma,” he repeats once they’re sitting and she’s able to hear him. “You know I understand.”

She does know this. He told her one night, while their legs were entwined and their arms were around one another, about the way his father abandoned him and his brother when he was just a boy. “I know,” she confirms softly.

“And you also know that I hate the idea of getting in between you and your family. They’re the reason you’re here in the first place, love.”

She stares at him for a moment, taking in the meaning of his words and angering when she realizes that he thinks he’s the problem here.

“Stop,” she insists suddenly. “If you’re making me consider them my family, then I’m going to consider you my family, too.”

“Love--”

“I’ve known you the same amount of time as I have them. And you’ve never once judged me, or let me down, or made me feel… like I’m doing something wrong.”

His face drops slightly in response to her words as he saddens. It kills him to know that she’s been made to feel this way. “I appreciate hearing that, love. But at the same time… they have a point. I’m closer in age to your parents than I am to you.”

“Please,” she says, rolling her eyes and pushing his shoulders until he’s lying down and she’s lying across his chest. “You should hear about some of the other guys I’ve dated. You being old is nothing.”

He pinches her hip in response to her jest and says, “I dare not hear about them, or else I may leave here and start a fight with each of them.”

“You’re too old to fight.”

“Aye, that’s right.”

They lie in comfortable silence, Killian’s tired arms running up and down along her spine until her breathing evens out. It’s either an indication that she’s feeling less angry, or that she’s fallen asleep, but he knows it to be the former when she speaks up.

“Do you know that you smell really bad? Like… I mean really bad.”

“Thank you, darling.”

“You’re welcome,” she says, and he can hear the sly smile in her voice without needing to see her perfect face. “You know, I could probably help you with that.”

“Is that so?” he asks in falsified surprise.

“Yes,” she nods. “A nice hot shower is just what the doctor ordered.”

“Oh, are we playing doctor now, Swan?”

“Ugh, no, Jones. It isn’t 1950 anymore, old man. Kids don’t play doctor. Now come with me if you want me to soap you up.”

She yanks him from the couch, guiding him through his small space until they reach the shower. It’s a tight fit, squeezing the both of them inside, but she somehow manages to get on her knees before him and quell his anxieties that he’s not good enough for her. Her mouth is useful when it’s using words to comfort him, and it’s just as useful when she’s using it to worship him until he can finish in the back of her throat.

As she stands slowly and salaciously, the warm water trickles down her face and into her hair, dampening the flawless length of her body as she reaches behind him for the body wash. “Does this mean you aren’t going to leave me?” she asks softly as she squeezes some soap into her palm. He can barely stand straight, leaning against the wall of the shower as she begins to lather the soap over the coarse hair on his chest.

His thoughts finally return to him and he says, “please tell me you didn’t just give me the best blowjob of my life as a means to convince me.”

She snorts, wrapping her arms around his waist and running her hands up and down his back. He knows she’s trying to follow through on her promise to soap him up, but she grabs onto his rear and he isn’t sure if she’s cleansing him correctly. “No,” she responds, pressing her lips to his neck and licking along his racing pulse. “But... did it help persuade you?”

He hums, not trusting his own voice and nodding. “It did,” he breathes, then he rights himself and remembers how imperative it is that he get his point across. “Emma, I don't want to leave you. I don’t think I’ll ever be happy if you aren’t by my side. I just… I only want to do what’s best for you.”

“You are what’s best for me,” she says, her voice barely audible over the sound of the running water. She finally looks up, releasing her lips and tongue from his skin and meeting his eyes with hers. “I never… I mean, I didn't grow up with a family. I know how to get by without my parents. But it’s-- It’s different with you. Ingrid always said that I need to fight for my happiness. I finally understand what she meant now that I’ve met you. I can’t lose you.”

Her words are so soft, so small, that he could have missed them. If he wasn’t watching the way her lips moved when she spoke, he would have. The way that she’s able to perfectly express how she’s feeling, while also giving words to the way that he feels about her, makes his heart practically jump out of his chest.

“Love,” he breathes, his voice gruff and barely audible as he cups her cheek with his palm. “I can’t lose you either.”

“You just mean a lot to me,” she whispers.

“Aye. You mean more to me than I could put into words.”

“Then please don’t leave me,” she mouths. He knows she had the intention to say the words aloud, but it’s as if she isn’t able to.

He’s unable to form the words that he so desperately wants to, either, so he leans in close to her and captures her lips between his own, molding their mouths together as if they were made for each other. And she kisses him back in a way that conveys how she feels about him.

Her fingers slide through his chest hair, scratching along his skin as they glide up towards his neck. She grips the back of his hair with her fingers, grounding herself through the emotion of the entire evening. It was hard enough on her when she learned her parents disapproved of her lover. Harder still when she found out he was considering leaving her for what he assumed was her own good. Now, she can’t get enough of the soothing comfort that comes from being with him.

He reaches behind himself, easily shutting off the flow of the water so that the silence of the room consumes them. The only sounds between them are the weakened, aged fan and the sounds of their heavy breathing.

“I’m— I—.” She starts speaking, but cuts herself off in favor of kissing him again.

“Aye,” he agrees, and although he doesn’t know what she was going to say exactly, he has a hunch and hopes to any god who may be listening that he’s right.

“Take me to bed,” she asks against his mouth. “I need you.”

He doesn’t waste a moment; when Emma Swan tells him to take her to bed, he knows he’d better listen. Pushing the curtain aside, he holds it open for her and allows her to step out of the shower, holding onto her elbow in hopes that he’s offering her some semblance of support. It’s entirely unnecessary, though; Emma Swan is the strongest person he’s ever met. She gives him a soft smile in thanks, grabbing his towel off of the hook and using it to dry herself quickly before turning it towards him and tossing it into his hair. She scrubs the towel through the gray and black locks playfully, giggling when she lifts it over his eyes and smiling at him so brightly that he finds it impossible not to grin back. “Thank you,” he says softly, and she leans forward, holding the towel around his head and using it like a hood to pull him into a kiss.

What starts as chaste and gentle turns heated and passionate in second, her tongue sliding against his and her hands lighting a trail of fire as they scratch down his back. He picks her up easily, her slender frame much less heavy than the monsters he battled earlier, and carries her bridal style over the threshold of the bathroom and towards the bed they’ve been sharing. The bed in which he hopes to never sleep alone again.

He presses her down into the mattress, making her groan into his mouth and wrap her ankles around his hips. She’s desperate to pull him closer to her, to have him inside her until she’s seeing stars behind her eyelids. He never fails to bring her ecstasy, each time they’re together fighting for the title of ‘the best time’. When his fingers find her sensitive and soaked for him, he smirks against her lips and kisses her harder. When he slides into her, making her gasp with the welcome ache as he stretches her, they press their foreheads together and breathe each other in. He rocks into her slowly and gently, exactly as she needs him. He reads her effortlessly and flawlessly, stroking her above where their bodies join until she’s powerless to stop the desperate noises from filling the room.

She squeezes her entire body around him as they finish together, and she cries out his name in loving praise as he spills himself into her. He can’t get enough of her, the high of being with her is like a drug from which he will never be fully sated, and he will never stop trying to bring her pleasure and joy and contentment for as long as she allows him to stay by her side.

The hum that leaves her throat as they come down together relays exactly how he feels as well. They’re sated for now as they embrace each other, although he knows that his longing for her is only slightly extinguished, only to be fueled again with just the slightest encouragement from her.

“That was nice,” she breathes nonchalantly, making him smile softly through hooded eyes as he rolls onto his side to look at her longingly.

“That’s one word for it, I suppose,” he concedes, running his hand up and down along the length of her waist. Her eyes flutter shut at the tickling sensation and she leans close to him to press a soft kiss to his lips.

“Very excellent? As if I was being fucked by a savant? Is that better?”

“No,” he whispers, “I think you’re just making fun of my age again with that one.”

With a soft grin, she says, “you’re pretty slick for an old guy.”

“Hush.”

She snuggles into his chest, resting her head under his chin and kissing against his collarbone before uttering, “a quick nap, and then you’re taking me to dinner.”

“Your heart’s desire, Swan. I promise that’s all I want you to have.”

~~~~

There’s an old wives tale, apparently, that tuna are more active during a storm. At least, that’s what Killian told Emma when he left that morning with the sky bright red. She was expecting him to heed the weather advisory and the warnings given by the coast guard that it isn’t safe for small crafts to be out during the oncoming storm, but of course, he’s as stubborn as she is and dedicated to his career and to his crew. They all want to go out and catch fish, so that’s what they do.

It’s not like she doesn’t trust his abilities as the captain, because of course she does. And it’s not like she’s naive enough to think that he’s never been out in bad weather before. But they’d just had a heart to heart a few nights ago, and if she loses him to a storm, she’s certain that she’ll lose what’s left of her sanity as well.

The fact is, she loves him. She knows she does, and she knows that she has since the moment she met him. She doesn’t care that he’s older than her, or that he works seasonally, or that he considers himself to be not good enough for her. What matters is that he’s the kindest person she’s ever met. He’s the most generous man who’s ever been in her life. She’s never met someone so gentle and caring and utterly perfect, and she feels physically sick at the thought of losing what she has with him.

He makes her want to be a better person. He makes her strive for patience and understanding, rather than impulsivity. He makes her rethink her tendency to shut people out before they can hurt her. She’s better for having met him, and she fears what she could become if she loses him to a crashing wave or a sinking ship.

After he leaves, after she watches as he sets off into the open ocean, she heads to Granny’s, the wind already strong enough to push her in that direction. She has a room rented out, but she hasn’t been in it in days in favor of staying with Killian, locking themselves away from the world and letting themselves be consumed with one another. She dreads the idea of going to her empty room, the one that isn’t hers and Killian’s, but she’s in need of a good facemask after neglecting her routine for days on end, and she could use a change of clothes that don’t belong to him.

After showering and, admittedly, taking an unexpected nap, she wakes ready for an order of grilled cheese and onion rings. The bell above the door chimes when she opens it, and Granny gives her a quick yet welcoming smile. “Afternoon,” she calls from behind the counter. “Want a seat with your folks?”

Emma groans internally as she turns and sees her parents and brother sitting in a booth, each of them giving her a kind smile. She returns it, although hers is much tighter than theirs seem to be, and says, “sure,” in a less-than-convincing tone.

“Hi, honey,” Mary Margaret says when Emma approaches them reluctantly, and she tries (and probably fails) to hide her cringe.

“Hey.”

David slides over towards the wall, offering her the only available seat beside him. “Been a few days, huh? How’s it going?”

“Fine,” she shrugs. “I’ve been staying with Killian.”

She watches as her parents stiffen, her brother obviously indifferent to her dating life. “That’s… nice,” Mary Margaret forces out, her discomfort so plainly written across her face that Emma has to stop herself from rolling her eyes. She didn’t come here to start anything, and she didn’t sit with them because she wanted to argue, but it’s becoming more and more difficult.

“Yes, it is nice. Killian is nice. And polite, and compassionate, and perfect in every way. So yes, it’s been a very pleasant few days.”

“I’m glad you’ve… I'm glad that you’re happy,” Mary Margaret chokes out.

“I am.”

They’re silent. Emma’s lunch is delivered to the table and they eat quietly, the only sounds between the four of them the bustle of the diner and the appreciative hum that David gives with each bite of soup. The wind whips outside, rattling the windows violently and blowing over a table on Granny’s patio. Many of the patrons stand, David and Leo included, and hurry outside to right the fallen piece of furniture, and Emma begins to gnaw at the short nail on her left thumb.

“It’s bad out there,” she remarks obviously, her leg bouncing up and down in quick, anxious succession. “I hope--”

She notes the way Mary Margaret looks out the window with wide eyes, realization setting in as the source of her daughter’s fear becomes obvious. “Emma, is he out there? In this weather?”

Emma looks at her mother and, for the first time since they’ve met, finds comfort in her eyes rather than a reason for distrust. “Yes,” she chokes out in a whisper, sucking her lips between her teeth. “He said he’d be fine, but…”

Mary Margaret nods in understanding. “It’s kind of bad out there.” Emma nods, too. “I can see why you’re so worried.”

“His boat is pretty small,” she explains, her voice shaking. “But he said it’s the best time to catch the fish.”

“That’s what your father always says, too,” Mary Margaret responds, reaching across the table and giving Emma’s hand a squeeze. For the first time since she’s met her mother, she doesn't pull away. “I’m sure he’ll be alright. He’s a knowledgeable captain.”

“He has been doing this a while,” Emma reasons, mostly with herself.

Mary Margaret sighs, giving Emma’s hand one final squeeze before letting go and leaning forward towards her daughter. “Sweetheart,” she starts, pursing her lips together thoughtfully. “I-- I’d like to apologize for the way your father and I reacted the other night. It wasn’t fair of us to judge your… relationship.”

Emma looks up into the eyes of the woman who gave birth to her, the woman who gave her away, and sees truth behind them. “It wasn’t,” she agrees.

“I can tell now that you truly care for him.”

“I do,” she nods. “Very much.”

“It’s just that,” she starts slowly, noticing her husband and son reentering the diner. “Well, you’re our little girl. It was surprising to find out that you’ve been seeing someone, never mind someone so much older than you. We just want what’s best for you.”

David sits beside Emma again and Leo takes his seat next to his mother, both of them looking as though they realize that they’ve walked into a pretty serious conversation. Emma thinks about holding back with their arrival, especially considering the presence of her brother, but she simply can’t.

“No offense or anything, but… I'm not your little girl. I never was. I never got the chance to be. And Killian’s age means nothing to me because he’s the best person I’ve ever known. No one else I’ve dated has ever treated me nearly as well as he has; no one listens to me or cares for me or loves me the way he does. And as terrifying as it is, because my dating history has seriously sucked, I know he loves me without even hearing him say it. And I… I love him too. And I’m really going insane right now not knowing if he’s alright out there, and you judging me for being with him isn’t helping how crazy I feel.”

The table is silent for an uncomfortable amount of time, and Emma chooses to go back to eating her onion rings and nervously bouncing her feet against the floor. Mary Margaret gulps, David’s wide eyes look between Emma and his wife, and Leo awkwardly eats his fries in the same way that Emma does. It’s the most painful silence she thinks she’s ever sat through.

“I’m sorry,” David finally says softly, turning his entire body so that he can face Emma. “It startled and surprised us when we found out, but you’re right. It isn’t fair for us to judge you. We’re clinging to the hope that you’d be, well, our little girl. But it’s time we realize that isn’t realistic and celebrate the time that we do get to spend with you. No matter who you choose to spend your time with.”

“Thanks,” she mumbles. She appreciates the sentiment, truly, but she gets the feeling there’s a but coming.

“I just hope that he feels as strongly for you as you clearly do for him.”

She tries her hardest to ensure that the look she gives him from the corner of her eye is not a glare, and she nods. “He does.”

“Alright, then,” David says casually, folding up his napkin and placing it on his plate before grabbing for his wallet. “Let's head to the docks and check the radar, then, shall we?”

Her eyes widen with anticipation and relief as she asks, “can you do that?”

“I’m the harbormaster. I can do whatever I want,” he says with a smirk and a wink shot in her direction. She follows him out of the booth with more enthusiasm than she’s felt all day, practically skipping out of the diner behind her father.

~~~~

“I can hear all of the long-range radio communications on here,” he explains once they arrive at his makeshift office. He pulls out his chair for her and lets her sit while he adjusts the receiver. “You’ll just have to listen out for him. So far, no distress signals or anything, though.”

“Good,” she agrees. She jumps in excitement when she hears a message coming through, and even though it isn’t from Killian, she knows he’s out there with this other captain.

She listens in silence for a while, David leaning against the table beside her and Mary Margaret and Leo standing off to the side and talking quietly. She hears many messages come in, many captains talking back and forth about the storm and the choppy waters and the dangerous conditions. A few of them have caught some fish, so she supposes it was worth it to them, but she hasn’t heard anything from Killian.

Eventually, after what feels like far too much time has passed, she hears someone ask for him. Emma desperately wishes there was a transmitter that would allow her to speak to him, but all she can do now is sit by and listen.

“Jolly, you still on?” the man asks, and David translates to let Emma know that they're wondering if Killian is still reeling in a tuna.

There isn’t a response, though. David explains that each captain should let the others in the fleet know when they’ve caught something, and Killian’s lack of response probably means that he and his crew are still wrestling with the giant beast. At least, that’s what she tells herself.

“Jolly Roger, come in. You guys still on?”

“Guess that means yes,” another captain responds after a moment. “‘Less he went overboard.”

Emma pales, putting her hand over her mouth and biting her lip until David places his hand on her shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. “He’s joking,” he tells her. “They’re all like that. A bunch of ball-busters.”

She nods and gulps, listening on as the fleet’s captains joke with each other as if there isn’t a nor'easter threatening to capsize each and every one of them. As if it isn’t possible that it’s already taken the man she loves away from her. She hears one of them saying that they’re on their way back to the docks, having caught a fish big enough to justify ending their trip, and she silently begs anyone who might be listening that Killian is finishing up catching something big and will do the same.

Eventually, after far too long, someone speaks up and says, “I’m going in, too. Anyone hear from Jones?”

“No,” another answers. “He was fighting something big; hopefully they catch it soon. Gettin’ bad out here.”

Emma knows she can’t wait at the docks for him forever. It’s unrealistic, and she’s going to freeze to death. It’s nearly winter, and the mixture of snow and rain and heavy wind that assaults her in the scarcely covered dock is starting to soak down to her bones. But she can’t leave. She still hasn’t heard Killian’s voice over the radio-- it’s been pretty silent for the last hour-- and she can’t get herself to leave before she knows that he’s alright.

Mary Margaret apologizes as she leaves, bringing Leo with her to get warm. She says she’ll have a mug of cocoa waiting for Emma at Granny’s, but she isn’t sure when she’ll make it over there. Despite how cold and wet she is, she can’t leave here until he gets back. She can’t even think of the alternative to him coming back.

David waits with her for another hour. They’re fairly quiet, hardly any words exchanged between the two of them, but after some time passes, he starts to open up to her in a way she never expected. He tells her how grateful he is that she found them. He tells her how impossible it was for him and Mary Margaret to give her up, and that both of their parents essentially forced their hands due to their young age. He tells her how painful it was, finding out about Mary Margaret’s unplanned pregnancy and being faced with the reality that they could keep this child and they couldn’t keep her. He tells her how badly he wanted to try to find her, considering breaking the terms of the closed adoption that fell through for years. He had no idea that the family who adopted her initially had sent her back because once they agreed to place her for adoption, they gave up their right to know anything about her.

Tears spring into his eyes when he talks of wanting to give her her best chance. When he admits to her that giving her away was a mistake-- “the biggest I’ve ever made.”

When she was young, this is what she’d hoped for. She dreamt of her tortured parents, broken because of their decision to give her away. She’d hoped that they realized their mistake and regretted it every day. But now, seeing the way that the decision they made 25 years ago hurts her father, she wishes she could take his pain away. They didn’t have much of a choice at 17, what with having no income and no support from their families. They thought they were doing what was best for her; they can’t help that it didn’t work out that way.

“It’s alright, dad,” she finally says after some silence passes between them. She notes the way he looks up at her hopefully, his eyes still glassed over, and she realizes why. She’s never called him that before, never thought she ever would. But in this moment, with the support and honesty and love he’s shown her, she can’t think of him as anyone other than her father. Her dad.

She sniffles as she steps towards him, her eyes beginning to match his own, and she embraces him. It feels exactly how she’d hoped hugging her father would feel. It feels true, and loving, and she’s at peace here with him.

“I love you,” he says into her hair, his hand cupping the back of his head. “I always have, since the moment I found out about you. I’m so sorry I couldn’t give you the life you deserved.”

She doesn’t even think before she says, “I love you, too.”

A boat comes in and David buys their fish. When asked about the Jolly Roger, the captain shrugs and says he hasn’t heard from Killian since he got a tuna on his line, but that was hours ago. “Sometimes it takes a whole day to get them on the deck,” David tells her after the captain leaves. “With the weather, I'm sure they’re being challenged out there. But we would’ve heard a distress call if anything was wrong.”

She tells herself that he’s right, and that he would know, and sits back down at the table. She can’t torture herself standing by the entrance of the warehouse, getting soaked and becoming even more frozen as she stares out at the horizon. She distracts herself with her phone, trying to keep busy as she waits, wishing he would call or text her to let her know that he’s alright.

It’s nearly dark when David calls her over, and when she looks up, she sees a small vessel backing up towards the dock, Will and Robin tossing some rope around the post to keep the boat from floating out to sea. She stands with such force and hope that she sends the chair crashing to the ground, but she hardly notices as she starts running towards the stairs. It’s still windy and cold, but the snow and rain has slowed, making it just a bit safer as she sprints down the wooden stairs and across the dock where he’s landed.

“Killian!” she calls as she gets closer, and she sees him poking his head out from the small cabin at the sound of her voice, shutting off the engine and hurrying towards the edge of the deck. She doesn’t let him disembark, choosing instead to jump onto the deck and nearly shoving Will to the ground as she fights her way towards him, crashing into his sturdy arms.

“Bloody hell,” he whispers into her hair as he holds her close, his arms wrapping tightly around her and warming her in a way that nothing else possibly could. His sweater is damp, and she’s soaked to the bone, but neither of them care. She can finally breathe again with her nose against his neck and her arms around his waist, squeezing him close to her.

“Are you okay?” she finally asks against his skin. She pulls away so that she can look at him, holding his head in her hands and bringing his lips to hers in a relieved kiss. “Fuck,” she breathes when she pulls away. “I thought… I was so worried about you.”

“I’m sorry--” he says against her mouth when she kisses him again. He chuckles softly and tries again, “I’m sorry, my love. I didn’t mean to worry you.” His hand leaves her hip and brushes her wet hair out of her face, his fingers returning to trace gently over her cheek.

“We listened to the radio, but we never heard from you. I thought something was wrong, or--” she cuts herself off, biting her bottom lip and staring into his eyes, as deep and blue as the ocean.

“The radio went out with some lightning. If I’d known you were listening… bloody hell. I’m so sorry, Emma.”

She tries to kiss him again, their lips touching for just a single, unsatisfying second before they're interrupted by Will. “Oi, you’re standing right over the fish, mate. You lot can canoodle after we get the check, aye?”

They caught three giant fish, the maximum they’re allowed to have on their boat at one time. She supposes he was right about a storm being the best time to go fishing, but she doesn’t think she’d survive if he went out in this weather again. She wonders in the back of her mind if the hefty paycheck David gives them for their catch is influenced by her in any way, but she tries not to dwell on it. Afterall, it could be worse. At least her father somewhat approves of him now, or at the very least, tolerates the fact that they're together.

When they're done, he hands the keys to his mates and squeezes her hand. “I promise I’m not going out there in this weather again, love; not if it’s going to worry you. It isn’t worth putting you through that again.”

“Good man,” David says softly, nodding to himself as he packs up his supplies. “Ems, I’ll meet you at Granny’s? We should probably dry off.”

“Sure,” she responds with a nod and a smile. “Tell-- tell mom I’ll be there soon.”

David blushes and nods back at her, giving her a shy smile. “Will do, kiddo.”

They walk away hand in hand, both of them damp and freezing and in desperate need of the embrace of the other.

“‘Mom’?” he asks her when they're out of earshot, trekking towards the small cottage that’s been in his family for generations. She can hear the smile in his voice over the whipping winds, and can’t help but to smile as well.

“I had a very interesting day,” she explains casually, looking up at him and smiling before looking back down, careful as she navigates over the bumpy stone path that leads to his front door. It’s a very short walk; his house beside the lighthouse is prime real estate in the small fishing town. “Little heart to heart with my parents.”

“That’s wonderful, love,” he encourages, squeezing her hand as he fiddles with the lock with his other. When they finally get inside, out of the storm and into the warmth of his small living room, he says, “I’m happy for you.”

She hums and smiles softly, turning to him and wrapping her fingers around the neck of his rain and ocean soaked sweater. “You should start a fire,” she suggests in a whisper. “And get out of these clothes.”

“Aye, same could be said for you, angel. How long were you by the docks waiting?” he asks, running the tip of his finger along her temple and down her cheek.

“I don't know, it felt like hours.”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t realize you were waiting. I would've tried calling, but there was spotty reception.”

“It’s alright,” she whispers back, pushing her forehead against his and cupping the back of his head with her hands. “I’m just glad you're alright.”

“Aye.”

“And there's… there’s something I have to tell you.”

“What’s that?”

It doesn't matter that they're both nearly dripping on the floor of his entryway, or that her hair resembles a birds nest, or that he smells like fish. None of the imperfections matter because when they're together, they disappear. Everything that could make their moment together feel amiss fades into the background when she smiles and whispers, “I love you.”

His heart stops beating. He wonders if he’s old enough to have a heart attack. It doesn't matter, because Emma admitting her love for him will surely keep him alive if he is. He chokes slightly, swallowing and taking a deep breath and then laughing and shaking his head in disbelief. Emma Swan loves him.

She giggles, too, her nose brushing against his as she asks, “are you in there?” and taps her fingers on his temple.

“Aye, I’m just… bloody hell. I love you.”

“You do?” she asks happily, her smile nearly blinding.

“Yes,” he responds. “Unequivocally. More than I ever thought it was possible to love a person. My life was so mundane and futile until you came into it, but Emma, you’ve given me so much hope. You’ve made my life… worth it.”

She breathes out a laugh and sniffles, scratching her fingers along his scalp and shaking her head. “You old sap,” she chastises playfully, making him laugh too. “I couldn’t agree more.”

Their kiss is perfect. They don’t need the heat of the fire to warm them up because the energy between them is enough. He doesn’t feel the need to strip off his clothes because of how soaked through they are; moreso because of how badly he needs to touch her. All he can think about is her body on his and the cursed amount of layers he’s adorning. He feels slightly less suffocated when she strips him of his thick sweater, but only slightly.

She moans as she pulls at his trousers, popping open the button and sliding the zip as far down as it’ll go. Reaching inside, she palms at the contours of his hardened length over his underwear. She giggles, the sound ringing through his ears joyously, when she tucks her fingers under his long underwear and is met with even more fabric. “You really layered up, huh, Captain?”

He nearly chokes at her use of his title, never liking it falling from anyone else’s lips as much as he does hers, and nods. “A winter storm requires prep-- preparation,” he stutters.

His eyes grow about twice their size and his breathing completely stops as she sinks to her knees before him, making her smirk as she looks up at him through her lashes in a way that she knows drives him mad. She’s practically buzzing as she looks up at his bare chest, the veins in his arms popping out tantalizingly as she runs her nose along the soft fabric of his long underwear.

The sounds he makes are unintelligible, and she’s found that that is exactly what she seeks when she gets on her knees before him: to have him in such ecstasy that he can hardly make sense of his words. She bites at the fabric so that she can pull it down, his cock springing free so that she can lightly scratch her fingers through the hair at the base. She loves the way he’s peppered with white all over, and she knows he likes her appreciation for it. The fact is, she can’t get enough of his perfectly sculpted body, the spatterings of silver and black making her heart skip a beat each time she thinks about him.

She can tell when she’s about to take it too far based on the way he struggles to keep his hips still, so she slows her movements and releases him with a pop, licking her lips as she looks up at him seductively.

“Do you want me?” she asks in a low, growling whisper that’s only just audible over the sounds of the wind picking up just outside the door.

“If I ever don't immediately say yes to that question, please smother me with a pillow. It means my age has caught up to me.”

“Impossible,” she chastises, standing slowly and removing her own sweater. “You may be old, but I know you’re young at heart.”

He shakes his head at her, moving quickly to scoop her into his arms until her ankles are locked around his waist. “What did we say about respecting your elders?” he growls into her ear, biting at the lobe as he walks them towards the bed.

With a hum, she asks, “are you going to punish me, Captain?” and he tosses her gracefully onto the mattress in response.

“Perhaps I'll simply make you beg.”

“Oh, I'm not above begging. I happen to know you’re quite the catch, so it'll be worth it.”

“Are you making fishing jokes while I’m trying to seduce you?”

The smirk she gives him is telling as he pulls her leggings over her hips and bites into her flesh, making her jump slightly. “Oh! I thought I was supposed to nibble on your rod?”

“Emma,” he laughs breathlessly.

She breathes out a laugh as well as he drags his tongue along her folds, not quite touching her where she needs him. “You really know how to lure me in, what can I say.” He bites the inside of her thigh silently, making her laugh aloud and then stutter as his tongue finds her clit. He keeps it there only momentarily, moving away in favor of peppering soft kisses around her thighs and over her hips. “Stop teasing,” she whines with her eyes squeezed shut, and he can see her smile growing before she says, “or should I say… baiting.”

He growls playfully as he hurries up the length of her body, decidedly punishing her by refusing to put his mouth on her center, although he doesn't think she minds as his lips collide with hers and his fingers plunge into her entrance. “You’re quite funny,” he says against her mouth as he expertly curls his fingers up against the sensitive spot inside her.

“Tha-- thank you,” she says, struggling to get the words out around her gasps and moans. “W-will you-- mmm, Killian.”

“Yes, my love?” he whispers as he sucks a bruise into her neck.

“Fuck me.”

He hums thoughtfully, slowing his fingers and pulling away from her so that he can purse his lips in pensivity. “No, I don’t think I will,” he tells her, his tone serious but the sparkle in his eyes anything but.

“Killian,” she whines, giving him a pout and gasping as he flicks his fingers over her clit.

She’s about to go mad, both with need and with absolute irritation at him, before he places his lips at the shell of her ear, lining his hardened cock up to her entrance, and whispers, “I’d much rather make love to you,” as he thrusts inside.

Emma doesn’t even have time, never mind the wherewithal, to berate him for his jest. She clings her fingertips into the backs of his strong shoulders, weathered by the sun and battered with the exhaustion of his livelihood. Their mouths fuse together tightly, neither of them willing to be any further from the other than they absolutely have to.

She whimpers against his lips as he strokes his fingers against her expertly, touching her exactly as she needs him to. He pulls slightly from her kiss, his mouth hovering over hers, and she knows he’s going to ask if she’s alright without him needing to.

Rather than wait for the question, she says, “I love you,” into the barely open space between them.

Killian doubles down on his efforts, driving into her with passion and love, the likes of which she’s never felt before. He breathes his love for her into every inch of her skin, his movements echoing his words until she gives him one last warning whimper and they fall apart in each other’s arms.

“I love you,” he whispers against her skin. “You mean everything to me.”

She gives him a soft smile, running her fingers soothingly into his hair as he collapses against her chest, his own heaving with each breath. “I certainly got more than I bargained for when I came here.”

“Aye.”

“Before I came,” she whispers, pausing to collect her thoughts. “Before I met you, it was like I was sinking. Like I could barely stay above water and I was one big wave away from capsizing.”

He smirks against her skin, chuffed at her nautical references despite his teasing earlier, and says, “I believe I know what you mean, angel.”

“And then I met you, and it was like I jumped overboard.” Turning his head so that he can look up at her, he raises a brow. “I was clinging to this dinky little boat that was sinking, you know? I was clinging to this idea of how my life couldn’t have gone. But I met you and you showed me that it’s okay when things don’t go the way we hope they will. You helped me see that it’s okay to let go, because…” she shrugs, busying her fingers in his hair. “Well, I guess because there was a life raft waiting for me. You.”

With a deep blush, he shakes his head in disbelief of the woman before him, pressing a kiss to her chest before pressing up onto his elbows and finding her lips with his. “I love you,” he whispers. “You’ve changed my life for the better, you know. I was quite the half-drunken recluse before you came to town.”

“I know,” she whispers with a satisfied smile. “We make quite the pair.”

“That we do.”

They lie in comfortable silence for a few more moments, Killian’s arms wrapped around Emma and his head on her chest as her fingers continue their ministrations through his hair. Eventually and reluctantly, they remember that they’re meant to meet her parents at Granny’s for dinner, and peel themselves off of one another just long enough to make it to the shower. They clean each other, after dirtying themselves once more under the water, and resign themselves to the difficulty they have keeping their hands off of one another.

Once at dinner, they tame themselves as much as they can, but neither of them miss the narrow-eyed looks being shot their way by David and Mary Margaret. Killian can’t help himself, though. She makes him feel alive; like a teenager in love for the first time. At the end of the night, after his confession that he plans to never sail through a storm again if it will ease his love’s worries, David shakes his hand and claps his shoulder wordlessly.

Three months later, after they’ve moved the rest of Emma’s things into his small cottage, she walks into the kitchen and catches him laughing elatedly with her mother before being pulled in for a tight hug. She wants to ask what they’re so excited about, but stops herself to take in the sight of the two of them finally getting along. It means so much more than her mom liking her boyfriend.

Their life together is perfection-- everything they could have hoped for and more-- and he can’t wait to ask her to spend the rest of it by his side.

~~~~

Tagging: @courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschatzi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18 @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89 @swampmedusa @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @ouatpost @daxx04 @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @therooksshiningknight @eeteeaytay @xsajx @itsfridaysomewhere @alexa-fangirl-forever @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight @qualitycoffeethings @rapunzelsghosts @spaceconveyor

#cs au #captain swan au #captain swan modern au #Overboard #Cs smut #cs angst #mildly I guess #silver fox Killian #older Killian #cs ff #overboard ff

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ace-in-a-shopping-cart · 4 years ago

Text

Day 12

Prompt: You meet your soulmate in your dreams every night.

Word Count: 3,321

Main Taglist: (Send an ask to be added or removed!) @starlocked01, @spoopy-turtle, @lizluvscupcakes, @more-fandon-than-friends, @i-cant-find-a-good-username, @vindicatedvirgil, @star-crossed-shipper, @justaqueercactus, @gayboopnoodle, @sanderssidesweirdo, @the-sympathetic-villain, @8-writes, @lizzy-lineart, @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun Soulmate taglist:(Send an ask to be added or removed!) @elizabutgayer, @melodiread, @tsshipmonth2020, @mikalya12, @8-writes, @lizzy-lineart

Logan drifted off with a smile on his face. Soon, he was met with a large room that took up two stories, a bay window that had a lovely area to curl up in, and more bookshelves than anyone could ask for filled to the brim with books on any subject he’d ever learned. Looking out the window would reveal that it was constantly pouring, a gentle rain that released a calm into the air. Upon the seat at the window was a figure in a hoodie, the hood pulled up over his head. His feet were curled beneath him as he sat back against the padded wall. He was deep in a book, lost to the world around him.

Logan smiled at the sight of his soulmate, walking over to the window seat and the figure curled up on it. “How are you tonight?” His voice was soft, speaking before he approached.

Virgil looked up, eyes bleary from being dragged out of the story. “Hmm?”

Logan couldn't help but laugh as he sat down next to his soulmate. He knew he wasn’t really his soulmate, just his mind's recreation of him. But he’d been assured that his soulmate acted just like his mind thought he did. Logan didn’t know the science behind it but assumed it was a defense against differences in time zones and sleeping habits or a way of letting soulmates meet, even if one has died.

“Oh, I’m doing fine.” Virgil‘s voice drew him out of his thoughts.

Logan smiled, shifting so he was sitting with a pillow in his lap and his legs drawn up beside him. He gently patted the pillow, inviting Virgil to lay his head on it. When he did so, Logan began to run his fingers through his hair, having been told that it calms Virgil’s anxiety as it lets him know Logan is there and it feels nice. “Do you have a topic in mind for our talk tonight?” Logan asked absentmindedly.

Virgil shrugged. “I mean, I could always just read to you.”

Logan shook his head, pausing to gently scratch his nails against Virgil’s scalp. “No, I don’t think I’m in the mood for that. Are you?”

“I was simply offering it. If you want to talk about the latest episode of the paranormal podcast I’ve listened to, that’s up to you.”

Logan smiled. “Sure, tell me about that.” And thus, another quiet night was spent with his soulmate in his arms.

The next morning, Logan woke to an empty bed, an empty room, an empty apartment. He got dressed, ate his breakfast, and left for work. That was the thing about seeing his soulmate in his dreams; he got used to it. He got used to seeing him on a regular basis, got used to living with him in his mind. He got used to having Virgil there. It was hard to wake up sometimes, knowing all he had to do was drift off to see him.

He shook himself out of his thoughts when he got to work, his mind switching gears to focus on the lecture of the day. He went about the morning classes productively, until he got to office hours. He’d just sat down at his desk, his door open for students, when a knock sounded.

“Come in!” He called without looking up.

Footsteps sounded before a voice he would recognize anywhere spoke. “I seem to have gotten a bit turned around. Could you help me find Professor Engel’’s office?”

He raised his head, eyes coming to rest on a face he’d only ever seen in his dreams. He smiled. “Are you her new TA, Virgil?”

The man startled. “Have we met before?”

Logan decided to just be cheesy, knowing Virgil loved Disney and secretly loved cheesy things. “Once upon a dream.”

He relaxed, sagging against the door frame. “Great, I just found my soulmate.” He muttered beneath his breath.

Logan chuckled. “Sorry, did I startle you?” He decided to forgo the question of why Virgil didn’t recognize him as he could already see the eye bags that signaled he was not one to sleep often.

His soulmate shrugged. “Just a little. Seriously, though,” he glanced at the nameplate on the door, “Logan, I really need to know where her office is.”

Logan nodded. “Of course. Take a left at the end of this hall and a right at the end of that one. Her office should be the third door on the right.”

Virgil smiled. “Thanks.” There was a pause as he stood there for a few more seconds. “Should I come back later to discuss the soulmate thing?”

“I’m just doing office hours right now so as long as a student isn’t in here, you’re free to do so.”

Virgil left, coming back in half an hour. In that time, only one student had briefly dropped by in between classes to ask him to clarify something from the syllabus. He made a note to change that to be clearer if he reused that particular syllabus. “Hey, you still open?”

Logan looked up briefly. “I just have to finish this note and then I’m free to talk.”

Virgil took a seat and waited, his fingers fiddling with the lid of the thermos he carried. Logan jotted down the correction on a sticky note before spinning around to stick it to the wall. He let the momentum carry him around a full rotation, coming back around to face Virgil, who was smiling at his antics.

“So, what did you want to talk about?”

Virgil sighed, his fingers stilling. “How about that stupid law that says that once you meet your soulmate you have to move in with them as soon as possible?”

“Yeah, there’s that. How is your living situation?”

Virgil shrugged. “I’ve just got a small apartment. No pets, no roommates.”

Logan pulled out a notepad and began to jot things down. “How many bedrooms does it have?”

Virgil’s brow furrowed as he frowned. “Why does that matter?” His voice was defensive.

Logan looked up at him. “It matters because I’d prefer to sleep in two separate rooms as we are still practically strangers. This way, we’d be closer to roommates than soulmates and would feel no need to form a romantic relationship if we don’t desire one.” He paused, ignoring the fact that he knew he was already in love with Virgil. “Would you be more comfortable sleeping in the same bed?”

Virgil shook his head almost too quickly. “No, two bedrooms is ideal. My current apartment only has one.”

Logan made another note. “My apartment has two bedrooms. Is yours close to anything you like, such as a favorite store, park, movie theatre, or even the school?”

Virgil bobbled his head as he thought. “Not really.”

“Mine is only a fifteen minutes drive from most things.” Logan paused as a thought hit him. “Even though my apartment sounds like the obvious choice, would you prefer to find a completely new apartment? It might feel better for both of us to move into something instead of one person moving into the other’s space.”

Virgil smiled. “Yeah, a new apartment sounds nice. You know, this is almost providence as the lease of my current apartment is almost up anyways.”

Logan wrote that down as well. “Do you have anything you are allergic to? Food, creatures, medicine?”

“I can’t have most seafood due to iodine. I’m also allergic to red fire ants. You?”

“I’m allergic to peanuts but you are welcome to have them in the house in any form as long as you make sure to label them and clean up after the mess as even just a bit of the oil on my skin can be dangerous. Other than that, I don’t think so.”

Logan searched through his drawers, pulling out a calendar. He flipped it open to the current month. “Do you have any time that’s good for apartment hunting?”

Virgil pulled his phone out of his hoodie pocket and Logan couldn’t help but notice the Nightmare Before Christmas case he had on it. “Uhh, I’m free on the weekend or any time after three in the afternoon.”

They planned for the next few minutes of where they preferred the apartment to be and what times worked best for them. A few days later, they were out apartment hunting together. They found the one they wanted and applied, managing to get it on the first try. Both of their names were on the lease and they were moving in the next weekend. Logan had his friend Roman come and help while Virgil roped his brother Patton into doing so, finding out the pair were soulmates in the process.

Logan had loved Virgil for about three years now but it was quite clear that Virgil hadn’t been aware of Logan’s existence until they’d met. So, while they were sitting on the floor of their shared apartment and eating a dinner of pizza, Logan decided to ask about it. “Virgil, may I ask about your sleeping habits?”

Virgil put down the slice of pizza he’d been raising to his mouth. “Sure, I don’t see why not.”

“I’m sure you know of seeing your soulmate in your dreams so by all means you should have recognized me on sight, just as I did you. Have you . . . never seen me at all?” Logan was scared. He was scared to think that Virgil had never seen him but was more scared to think that Virgil had chosen to forget about him, chosen to not acknowledge his existence within him.

Virgil shrugged, a small almost apologetic smile gracing his face. “I don’t sleep.”

Logan’s brow furrowed as a million questions jumped into his brain. “How is that possible? You’d have to sleep eventually.”

“I have pretty bad insomnia. Only one thing seems to have helped but I haven’t been able to do that since I was small. So, I deal with it. I plan around it, drinking energy drinks and caffeine, waiting for the inevitable collapse that comes where I basically just pass out for a few hours. As I’m unconscious, I don’t dream. Thus, I’ve never met my soulmate until you recognized me.”

Logan nodded, wiping his hands on a napkin. “Is there any way I can help? You mentioned something you could do to help it?”

“No, there’s nothing you can do to help although I appreciate the offer.”

With that, the conversation changed to a different topic while Logan’s mind wandered. He wondered if there was anything he could do to help. Determined, he silently promised to be the best housemate anyone could ever ask for. He was going to be quiet whenever possible and make sure to stay out of Virgil’s way. He’d pretend to not even be there for much of the time.

That lasted a week before the system broke down. Logan had been sitting on the couch doing some work when Virgil came home, looking even more exhausted than usual. Logan began to gather his things, meaning to move to his room to give Virgil space. As he did so, he glanced up at his roommate, who looked close to tears.

Logan instantly dropped everything he had, not caring about the scattering of his neat piles, to move over to Virgil, hands hovering. “Is something wrong? Did something bad happen?”

Virgil dropped his bag. “Do you really hate me that much?” His voice was watery and he looked even closer to tears now.

Logan paused, confusion plain on his face. “What do you mean? Why would I hate you?” His voice was as soft as he could make it, trying to be gentle with his sleep deprived soulmate.

“You always leave the room as soon as I walk in, you only talk to me when I speak first. Do you really hate me already?”

Logan shook his head. “No! I don’t hate you, quite the opposite in fact.”

Virgil sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “Then why do you avoid me so much?”

“I don’t mean to avoid you. My intention was to give you space so you don’t feel like I forced you to move in with me.” Logan had no idea what to do about the sleep deprived TA in front of him so he was as sincere as possible.

Virgil nodded before shuffling over to the couch and dropping onto it. “Don’t. Just stay.”

Logan got the hint and sat back down, beginning to fix his piles. He glanced over at Virgil every once in a while, seeing he was in the same position of sitting with his head thrown back and eyes closed. He eventually sat back as he set up his computer on his lap. It was then that Virgil tilted to the side, his head ending up on Logan’s shoulder. Logan froze, waiting for Virgil to move or say something. Instead, his roommate and soulmate just snored.

Logan smiled, taking the opportunity to kiss the top of his head and whisper, “Sleep well,” before going back to his work.

When he woke, Virgil stirred and Logan’s hand came up to cradle Virgil’s head, quietly shushing him. Virgil pulled away entirely but still sat close. Logan put down his book and looked over at him. “Did you have a nice nap? I tried to be quiet so as to not interrupt it.”

Virgil smiled. “I dreamt for the first time in ten years.”

Logan was surprised but happy. “Oh, that’s nice. Did you enjoy the experience? I find it rather calming myself.”

Virgil nodded. “I did. Although, I do have a few questions for you.”

“I’ll answer them as best I can.”

“Did our conversation before I fell asleep actually happen or was that part of the dream?”

“You came home and got upset when you saw me begin moving back to my room. You expressed a feeling of inadequacy that I corrected as best I could. Is that the conversation you were thinking of?”

Virgil nodded. “Okay, so, how do you feel about me?”

Logan reached out, as if he wanted to cradle Virgil’s face. “I don’t want to tell you the extent of my emotions as I’m not sure you’re ready for them. I can say that I don’t hate you in the slightest.” He hesitated. “Do you hate me?”

Virgil was quick to shake his head, hand reaching out to rest on Logan's arm. “I may not have had enough time yet to accurately gauge your personality but I like what I’ve seen so far.”

Logan nodded and he felt like there was a weight lifted from his shoulders. “Okay. In that case, I think we need to establish some house rules.”

They discussed at length such things as shared spaces and personal ones, communication of needs, and communication in general. Then, as it was already getting to their usual eating time, they both made their way to the kitchen. Logan started looking through the fridge. “Hey, how was the latest episode of your paranormal podcast?” He popped his head out of the fridge to look at Virgil. “Sorry, I just realized how creepy that could sound.”

Virgil just shrugged, settling onto a clean and out of the way part of the counter. “It’s fine. I’m always willing to talk about that thing as no one else seems to care.”

Logan pulled out ingredients for pancakes before closing the door. “Well, I enjoy hearing about it and find it a calming part of my routine.” He didn’t mention that he found Virgil looked his best when he was animated and talking about a topic he enjoyed. He didn’t mention that he could watch and listen to him for hours, never getting bored of him. He didn’t say it, knowing that it’s too soon and it would freak him out. So, instead, he listened to him ramble with a smile on his face, occasionally making comments to spur him down a different rabbit hole.

The rest of the month went smoothly. They got to know each other over that time, Logan learning the small things that showed that Virgil was alive and not just his imagination and Virgil learning everything there was to know about Logan. Logan made sure to answer any question he had and gave him as much information as he could while doing so.

It was toward the end of the month when it happened. Logan had just been drifting off when he heard a soft knock at his door. Sitting up, he fumbled for his glasses case and the lamp switch. “Virgil? Is that you?” He called quietly.

The door opened with a barely audible click, Virgil coming to stand in the doorway. Logan finally got his glasses on to see Virgil in his nightclothes, fingers playing with the ends of his too long sleeves. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” His voice sounded different, softer and more scared than Logan had ever heard from him.

Logan smiled, gesturing for him to come in. “It’s alright. Is there something I can help with?”

“I can’t sleep.” It almost sounded like an apology.

Logan nodded, sitting up fully and crossing his legs beneath his weighted blanket. “Okay. Do you want me to talk with you for a bit?”’

“I was actually hoping you could . . . Nevermind, this was stupid.” He turned to go.

Logan stood, reaching Virgil in a few strides. He didn’t try to stop him, but did put a gentle hand on his arm. “Hey, no. Your needs and wants are valid. Talk to me, please.”

Virgil shrugged. “I fell asleep on your shoulder a month ago and dreamt for the first time in ten years. I don’t know, I guess I was just wondering if I could try that again.”

Logan smiled. “You want to try to sleep with physical contact?”

“Yeah, that.” Virgil sounded relieved that he didn't have to explain himself further.

“Okay. Come on in and make yourself comfortable.”

In a few minutes, they were curled up together in bed. Virgil was on his stomach, head on Logan's chest, while Logan had his arms wrapped around his roommate. The lamp had been turned off and Logan’s glasses had been safely returned to their case. After being in a similar position with his imagination’s fabrication of Virgil, Logan raised a hand to card through Virgil’s hair. He realized what he was doing and stopped, putting the hand flat on the mattress.

Virgil tilted his head to look at Logan. “You don’t have to stop. That felt kind of nice, actually.”

Logan smiled, his hand going back to the familiar rhythm that calmed him even after years of doing it. They both soon drifted off like that, held in each other’s arms and perfectly content. In the morning, Virgil told Logan he’d dreamt again and they celebrated a little before they had to get to work.

Soon, that became a recurring event. Sometimes, it was three nights a week that Logan would find Virgil curled up beside him, sometimes it was less or more. After the third week in a row of this behavior, Logan had to sit down and talk with Virgil about it. They worked out that having physical contact with another human helped Virgil sleep, something about his anxiety calming when he felt protected.

One night, Virgil was curled against Logan, who was reading aloud in an attempt to lull Virgil to sleep. Virgil reached up, his hand coming to curve around Logan’s jaw and pause his reading. Leaning closer, Virgil softly planted a kiss on Logan’s cheek and muttered, “I love you, soulmate.”

Logan turned, kissing Virgil’s palm. “I love you too, soulmate.” He closed the book and set it aside, turning off the lamp before sliding deeper into the bed and curling around Virgil. They both fell asleep, comfortable, protected, and loved.

#tsshipmonth2020 #analogical #virgil sanders #logan sanders #soulmate au #food mention #ace writes

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dangerouscommiesubversive · 4 years ago

Note

Whenever commie is no longer busy and have time (and ofc would want to write it), would you be willing to make a complete list of those who would kabedon; and the list of "who would and would not say the f/curse word"?

Oh man, you want a complete list? Well, ok, let’s go show by show here, I’m gonna get really lengthy with it. Like, I can’t go through every character in every show, but I’ll hit what I think are the major points.

Fair warning before you mash the read-more: I did, in fact, go through nearly every show I’ve seen. This post is long.

We will start with Kamen Rider.

Kamen Rider 1号: I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me you heard my grandpa say a cuss. Go on. I dare you.

Kuuga

Godai Yusuke: is capable of saying fuck, but does not, because he’s too polite. He might kabedon, but not for any romantic or sexual reasons, just because he likes to be close to people and he gets excited about stuff.

Ichijo Kaoru: says fuck on a regular basis. I think he would kabedon unironically but only in the heat of the moment.

Ra-Baruba-De: doesn’t cuss because it’s beneath her. She’d kabedon Ichijo, but would follow this up with an attempt to kill him.

Agito

Tsugami Shouichi: does not swear and cannot kabedon, although someone else might do it to him.

Hikawa Makoto: might say fuck in a moment of stress, but rarely swears otherwise. He could and would kabedon, but only in situations where doing so would get a comedic result related to his strength and clumsiness.

Ashihara Ryou, the sexiest man in the world: probably swears like a sailor and would absolutely kabedon. The very thought makes me go weak at the knees.

Kino Kaoru: definitely says “fuck,” but I don’t think he does fuck, and he certainly doesn’t kabedon.

Ozawa Sumiko, however: both says “fuck” and does it. She will kabedon, and she will stand on Omuro’s shoulders to get enough height for it.

Ryuki

Kido Shinji: always wants to swear, but doesn’t actually do it. He could kabedon, but only in anger; the thought of doing so in a romantic or sexual context would make him blush and stammer.

Akiyama Ren: can and will say “fuck” at a moment’s notice. You know he kabedons.

Kitaoka Shuichi: says “fuck” quietly, when no one can hear him except maybe Goro. He would kabedon gently and think himself very sexy.

Yura Goro: is a sweet, sweet man who neither swears nor kabedons.

Asakura Takeshi: is saying “fuck” at this very moment. He would only kabedon as a prelude to stabbing.

Tezuka Miyuki: is on this list because I love him, but he does not say “fuck” and could not be induced to. He could be kabedon’ed.

555 (we haven’t finished this one so I can’t guarantee that all characters will be included)

Inui Takumi: I’m pretty sure he could say “fuck” but I don’t think he’s actually inclined to. Kabedon’ing requires a level of investment in whatever situation that I don’t think he’d want to admit to.

Kusaka Masato: oh, absolutely.

Sonoda Mari: swears all the time. Doesn’t kabedon because she expects someone to do it to her.

Keitaro Kikuchi: is a very nice boy who does neither of these things.

Kiba Yuji: contains vast lakes of suppressed rage, and if he says “fuck” even once it might all come out. Does not kabedon for the same reason.

Osada Yuka: says “fuck,” but only in her heart. Does not kabedon.

Kaido Naoya: says “fuck,” but only when he can’t find a more ridiculous option. Absolutely kabedons at a moment’s notice.

Smart Lady: does not say “fuck.” Will definitely kabedon you, and moreover she’ll do it with her leg to make sure that the situation is just, uncomfortably sexual.

Blade

Kenzaki Kazuma: is breathtakingly earnest but nevertheless does, on occasion, say “fuck.” Doesn’t kabedon because he’s too sad.

Aikawa Hajime: has neither the inclination nor the desire to say “fuck” or to kabedon.

Tachibana Sakuya: can say “fuck,” but mostly doesn’t. Also too sad to kabedon.

Kamijou Mutsuki: would say “fuck” to get someone’s attention. He wishes he could kabedon.

Kurihara Amane: is in so much trouble with her mother for saying “fuck.”

Hibiki

Hibiki/Hidaka Hitoshi: is An Dad, and thus is theoretically capable of saying “fuck,” but if he does then it means the situation’s gotten pretty serious. (Or he’s hit his thumb with a hammer.) He can definitely kabedon, but we’ll never see him do it, because that means the situation’s gotten a different kind of serious.

Ibuki: has too much self-control and dignity to say “fuck,” but said it when he was younger. Doesn’t kabedon because it’s just...not the right vibe for him.

Todoroki: has considered saying “fuck,” but the prospect makes him blush. Cannot kabedon to save his life but desperately wishes that he could.

Zanki: comfortable with the word “fuck” but uses it sparingly. Doesn’t seem like a kabedon type.

The Children: Asumu, Kyosuke, and Akira can all definitely say “fuck” just by dint of being high schoolers brimming with all kinds of messy emotions. Kyosuke would definitely attempt to kabedon someone, although he might not do it well.

The Tachibana Sisters: anyone who runs a restaurant can say “fuck.”

Kabuki: like Miyuki, above, is included because I adore him, even though he’s a movie-exclusive character. Definitely says “fuck.” Might kabedon in the process of tricking someone, but wouldn’t do it seriously.

Kabuto

Tendou Souji: feels that saying “fuck” is beneath him. Wouldn’t kabedon so much as he’d very gently brace himself against the wall and lean in, which, let’s be real, is much sexier.

Tendou Juka: you know that comic that people have done all those redraws of? I think this one is the original? This is an accurate representation of what would happen to someone, possibly Kagami, if Juka said “fuck.”

Kagami Arata: is all the time saying “fuck,” at least in his head, but doesn’t often say it out loud because it would draw the wrong kind of attention. Would kabedon Souji, probably, who would be surprised and then quietly delighted.

Kusakabe Hiyori: unlikely to say “fuck,” and if she did I suspect Tendou would take it badly (see above entry for Juka). Might be kabedon’ed, but would definitely knee the perpetrator in the groin.

Kamishiro Tsurugi: my beautiful son does not know what the word “fuck” means, but would definitely kabedon because he’s excitable.

Yaguruma Sou and Kageyama Shun: get one line because they do things together--imagine, if you will, Yaguruma saying “fuck” and Kageyama echoing him quietly a moment later. They would also kabedon together.

Kazama Daisuke: would say “fuck” very quietly. Does not kabedon.

Den-O

Nogami Ryotaro: cannot say any swear words without suffering a potentially fatal nosebleed. May have kabedon’ed once in a dream, but the thought of him attempting it in real life is actually laughable.

Hana: says “fuck” as an adult. As a child, says it more. Does not kabedon, because why bother?

Naomi: can do whatever she likes and I will support her.

Momotaros: says “fuck” regularly and with gusto. Kabedons as a greeting.

Urataros: does not use any curse words because women find them off-putting--unless the woman he’s with swears, in which case he does too. Will kabedon if it is situationally appropriate for getting laid.

Ryuutaros: see, again, this comic, but this time the person doing the shocked face and then later the punching is me. He does not know what a kabedon is.

Kintaros: is probably asleep. Believes that excessive swearing is unmanly. Doesn’t see the point of kabedon.

Sieg: believes that excessive swearing is unfit for a prince, but will very occasionally say “fuck” if it’ll get every eye in the room on him. Unaware of kabedon.

Kiva

Kurenai Wataru: does not.

Kurenai Otoya: does both, vigorously.

Asou Megumi: says “fuck,” doesn’t kabedon. Would encourage someone else to kabedon her though.

Asou Yuri: absolutely says “fuck” all the time, might kabedon Otoya to shut him up.

Jirou: I actually don’t think he swears? Definitely kabedons though.

Nago Keisuke: says “fuck,” but feels bad about it afterwards. Might kabedon from anger, or if induced to by Megumi.

Nobori Taiga: is far too polite to say “fuck,” but occasionally thinks it. Does not kabedon.

Decade

Kadoya Tsukasa: there is no question that he says “fuck” all the time. Not the romantic kabedon type, much to Daiki’s disappointment. May kabedon in other situations, though.

Kaitou Daiki: says “fuck” only occasionally, but with feeling. Would like Tsukasa to kabedon him.

Hikari Natsumi: says “fuck” regularly and energetically. Will sit on Yuusuke’s shoulders to kabedon Tsukasa.

Onodera Yuusuke: does not say “fuck” at all. Cannot kabedon because he is too busy giving Natsumi a boost.

Hidari Shoutaro: believes that saying “fuck” is unbecoming of a true man, but still says it if he stubs his toe. Kabedons unintentionally and then blushes when he realizes what he’s done.

Philip: has said “fuck” a total of once and then went down a rabbit hole looking into its etymology. Kabedons intentionally and with forethought, and then completely loses the thread of things as soon as Shoutaro starts blushing.

Narumi Akiko: says “fuck” just to shock Shoutaro. Definitely kabedon’ed Terui at least once, which he was unspeakably charmed by.

Terui Ryuu: is not open to questions about whether or not he says “fuck.” Only kabedons out of frustration.

OOO

Hino Eiji: neither says “fuck” nor kabedons.

Ankh: both says “fuck” and kabedons, and both are generally directed at Eiji. In fact, since he is only a hand, kabedon is an important part of his physical vocabulary.

Izumi Hina: does not say “fuck.” Would break a wall if she kabedon’ed, and thus it’s fortunate that she isn’t inclined to anyway.

Gotou Shintarou: would blush terribly if he ever said “fuck,” or for that matter if he attempted to kabedon.

Satonaka Erika: considers the word “fuck” an important part of her vocabulary, to be used sparingly. Kabedons Gotou, and at least once Date.

Date Akira: says “fuck,” but not in, like, an aggressive way? Just as an expression of mild distress. It does not occur to him to kabedon.

Fourze

Kisaragi Gentarou: is not legally allowed to say rude words. Would kabedon out of an excess of enthusiasm and then be deeply confused if the recipient blushed.

Sakuta Ryuusei: says “fuck” sparingly and only when it’ll have an impact. Does not kabedon.

Utahoshi Kengo: says “fuck” frequently and with enthusiasm. Doesn’t see the point of kabedon.

Jojima Yuuki: like Gentarou, is not legally permitted to curse. Kabedon would not occur to her unless it could be some way related to space.

Kazashiro Miu: says “fuck” occasionally. Kabedons when appropriate, which is rarely.

Daimonji Shun: wishes he could say “fuck,” but can’t quite bring himself to. Doesn’t kabedon anymore, but he used to.

JK: only says “fuck” deniably. Strictly a receiver of kabedon.

Nozama Tomoko: doesn’t use curse words, she uses curses. Doesn’t kabedon, but appreciates it when she sees others do it.

Wizard

Souma Haruto: definitely says “fuck” sometimes. Prefers a flirtatious lean against a convenient wall over kabedon.

Nitoh Kosuke: says "fuck," but only if his grandma can't hear him--unless there's a notable archeological discovery in the offing, in which case all bets are off. Thinks he's too slick to kabedon, but he's not.

Fueki Koyomi: no.

Nara Shunpei: absolutely not.

Daimon Rinko: has said "fuck" on occasion and would certainly do it again. I can't imagine a kabedon from her though.

Gaim

Kazuraba Kouta: seems like he secretly swears kind of a lot. Does not kabedon because he is, at base, a deeply non-aggressive individual.

Kumon Kaito: says "fuck" at least once a day. Absolutely kabedons, but mainly because he's annoyed and slapping a person seems tactically unsound.

Kureshima Mitsuzane (Micchi): says "fuck" to sound edgy. Would like to kabedon but no one would take it seriously.

Kureshima Takatora: will use the word "fuck" sparingly, and only to indicate that The Situation Has Gotten Bad Indeed. Does not know what kabedon is.

Sengoku Ryouma: says "fuck" occasionally, and with malicious good cheer. Does not kabedon, but if he would like to give it a shot, I am available.

Takatsukasa Mai: says "fuck" quietly but with frequency. Doesn't see a good reason to kabedon anyone.

Oren Pierre Alfonso: only swears in French. Dismisses kabedon as a thing for callow youths, but despite this he did once have a heated dream of doing it to Takatora.

Drive

Tomari Shinnosuke: says "fuck" if he's hit his leg on a table or something, but in more serious situations he does not curse. I cannot possibly imagine him trying to kabedon, it's impossible.

Shijima Kiriko: doesn't swear as much as one might think; "fuck" is for special occasions. Will use a kabedon to get someone's attention.

Shijima Gou: says "fuck" all the time. Would like to kabedon, but hasn't found the right person yet.

Chase: does not swear. Does not kabedon--he's interested in human behavior but that's just nonsense.

Sawagami Rinna: is a professional engineer and thus uses the word “fuck” as punctuation. Might kabedon, but it’s unlikely.

Mr. Belt/Krim Steinbelt: mutters “fuck” quietly when Shinnosuke isn’t paying attention. Does not have arms.

Heart: has said "fuck" experimentally but didn't like the mouthfeel. Delighted by the very concept of kabedon but hasn't done it yet.

Brain: believes that swearing is a sign that you have nothing constructive, intelligent, or amusing to say. Provided Heart with the comics from which they both learned about kabedon, and since then the thought of Heart doing it to him has occupied his every waking moment.

Medic: has thought about saying "fuck" but isn't sure that she really wants to. Stole those comics from Brain and now she, too, would like Heart to kabedon.

Ghost

Tenkuuji Takeru: the thought of saying “fuck” has genuinely never entered his head. More someone who is kabedon’ed than someone who does it himself.

Fukami Makoto: can theoretically say “fuck,” but mostly doesn’t. Would maybe kabedon if the moment seemed appropriate.

Alain: thinks saying “fuck” is sort of uncouth but does it anyway. Wants to know what kabedon is, please tell him about it.

Tsukimura Akari: does not get enough sleep or lab time for anyone to be able to stop her from saying “fuck.” Has kabedon’ed out of excitement, but never for romantic reasons.

Yamanouchi Onari: tries not to say “fuck” because he’s supposed to be setting a good example, but sometimes it just slips out. Definitely doesn’t kabedon, but that’s more out of cowardice than a sense of restraint.

Fukami Kanon: see the comic previously linked to for reference for what would happen if Makoto found out that someone had taught Kanon how to say “fuck.” Reads comics in which there is the occasional kabedon, kind of wishes Alain would do it.

Ex-Aid

Hojo Emu: doesn’t say “fuck” because he works with children. Doesn’t kabedon because it’s not his style.

Parad: absolutely says “fuck,” if only to see Emu drop something in surprise. Thinks kabedon looks fun.

Kagami Hiiro: is too uptight to say “fuck” and too shy to kabedon.

Kujou Kiriya: uses “fuck” as an expression of low-key dismay. Does his best flirting from across the room, but might kabedon if it seemed like the reaction would be entertaining.

Hanaya Taiga: barely even thinks of “fuck” as a word, it’s just a noise he makes when he’s annoyed. Kabedon’ing would require him to get much closer to people than he wants to.

Dan Kuroto: definitely says “fuck,” are you kidding? Even before he was a cackling supervillain he was, at least partially, a software engineer. Does not kabedon.

Poppy Pipopapo: no.

Saiba Nico: says “fuck” all the time as long as Taiga’s not looking. Will not admit to reading the kind of comics where a kabedon might occur, but definitely does.

Graphite: thinks all of this is human nonsense and yet is, despite himself, intrigued.

Build

Kiryuu Sento: probably says “fuck” more than any other main Rider. Yes, even Tsukasa. Is kabedon’ed.

Banjou Ryuuga: says “fuck” because MMA guys have foul mouths, although he did clean up his language a bit when Kasumi was still alive. Kabedons.

Isurugi Misora: if Misora says “fuck” then something terrible is about to happen. Would laugh at anyone who asked if she knew how to kabedon. Would knee anyone who tried it on her in the groin. Kazumi knows this well.

Takigawa Sawa: considers the word “fuck” an essential part of her vocabulary, to be used frequently and sometimes at a great volume. Knows how to kabedon due to spy training but does not use it in her personal life.

Sawatari Kazumi: says “fuck” all the time, unless Misora is paying attention to him. Thinks that kabedon is very sexy and that he’s very good at it; mileage may vary on whether this is actually true.

Himuro Gentoku: says “fuck” softly and solemnly when something really bad has happened. Maybe he kabedons, I’m genuinely not sure.

Evolt: probably does both, but I’m not getting close enough to check.

Zi-O

Tokiwa Sougo: doesn’t swear because it’s not kingly. Does not kabedon.

Myoukouin Geiz: surprisingly, does not tend to curse. Definitely kabedons, not always romantically.

Woz: doesn’t say “fuck,” because there are more roundabout ways to express his frustration. Kabedons, sometimes for romantic reasons and sometimes just to be weird about things.

Tsukuyomi: specifically uses the word “fuck” to indicate that things have gotten serious. If Geiz isn’t going to get around to kabedon’ing her, she’s going to do it to him.

Zero-One

Hiden Aruto: look obviously I can’t really comment on these characters because I haven’t watched that show yet but just from the clips I’ve seen I think Aruto would spontaneously combust if he said “fuck.”

Saber

Kamiyama Touma: says “fuck” sometimes, especially if he’s very tired. Thinks kabedon is kind of a tired plot device.

Sudou Mei: doesn’t think saying “fuck” is that big of a deal, uses it to express irritation. Agrees with Touma that kabedon is overused as a plot device, but likes it nonetheless.

Shindo Rintarou: oh my god no, definitely not.

Fukamiya Kento: uses the word “fuck” the way other people might use the word “moist”--it’s not a word he likes to say, but it has its place. Not generally aggressive enough to kabedon, but might if it seemed useful.

Akamichi Ren: is a teen edgelord and thus says “fuck” a lot. Talks a big game, but is secretly too shy for a successful kabedon.

Ogami Ryo: has tried to clean up his language since becoming a dad and been pretty successful with it. Doesn’t kabedon anymore, but did once.

Daishinji Tetsuo: says “fuck” when he’s working on things. Kabedon generally involves prolonged eye contact, so no.

Sophia: good heavens no, can you imagine?

Tassel: might be a divinity of some kind, can swear if he wants although he’d probably do it in French, but if he kabedons then I’m a walrus. I love Tassel.

All right, that’s Kamen Rider done! Now on to...

Super Sentai

AkaRed: if AkaRed ever said “fuck” I think something in the multiverse would be profoundly damaged--oh, hell, this is how Zenkaiger happens, isn’t it?

Dairanger

Ryo of the Heavenly Fire Star: doesn’t say “fuck,” but you might when you taste his gyoza. They’re the best in the world, you know. It has never occurred to him to kabedon.

Daigo of the Heavenly Illusion Star: is too gentle to say “fuck,” or for that matter to kabedon. (Besides, anyone who tries to kabedon Kujaku is going to be in for some difficulty.)

Bullet Shoji, Warrior of Love: used to say “fuck,” because he used to be in a gang, but doesn’t anymore. Doesn’t kabedon because he tries not to intimidate people.

Kazu of the Heavenly Time Star: doesn’t say “fuck,” he just kinda makes a hiss noise if he’s irritated. Doesn’t object to kabedon in theory but not interested in doing it himself.

Rin of the Heavenly Wind Star: does sometimes say “fuck,” much to her uncle’s dismay. Does not kabedon.

Kou of the Howling New Star: is a horrible child and says “fuck” regularly. Too immature to be allowed to kabedon.

Kakuranger

Tsuruhime: does not say “fuck,” because if she’s mad she can just smack someone. She is fairly sure that people don’t actually kabedon in real life.

Sasuke: has said “fuck” once or twice but mostly tries not to. Too friendly to kabedon.

Saizou and Seikai: get one line because they’re attached at the hip. They are too goofy to say “fuck,” and would only ever manage to kabedon each other.

Jiraiya: not only does he say “fuck,” he will actually be saying “fuck” and not a Japanese equivalent, because he is more comfortable speaking English. I cannot imagine this man attempting to kabedon.

Ninjaman: is tremendously excited to learn about modern cursing, but never actually uses the words he’s learned because his teachers would be mad at him. Naturally too large to practice safe kabedon.

Hurricaneger

Please know that I’m not very far into this series yet, so this is based on fairly early impressions.

Shiina Yousuke: does not say “fuck” but often wants to. Doesn’t kabedon because it seems really aggressive, especially if you’re trying to kiss someone.

Nono Nanami: sometimes thinks the word “fuck” but doesn’t say it. While she’s read a few comics which contain kabedon, the thought of putting the concept into practice has never occurred to her.

Bitou Kouta: would never say “fuck” because children might hear him. Doesn’t kabedon because he’s a gentle soul.

Kasumi Ikkou and Kasumi Isshu: I just met these boys last night but I know in my heart that they both say “fuck,” and moreover they mean it. They also definitely kabedon.

Furabijo and Wendinu: can call me, please, I’m apocalyptically in love with you both.

Gekiranger

Same as Hurricaneger--I’m not that far in, we don’t even have the extra guys yet, but I sure do have some thoughts about the folks we’ve got so far.

Kando Jan: doesn’t even know the word “fuck,” probably has some cute repetitive term for sex that he uses instead. Doesn’t know what a kabedon is either.

Uzaki Ran: may say “fuck” very occasionally if she sustains an injury during training. Not inclined to kabedon.

Fukami Retsu: will pretend that he’s too in control of himself to swear, but does on occasion say “fuck.” Sees no reason to kabedon.

Mele: says “fuck,” but never when Leo can hear her. Doesn’t kabedon, would like someone else (*coughcoughLeocoughcough*) to do so though.

Leo: says “fuck” like he’s chewing on something and spitting it out. Definitely kabedons, but has no idea that this might have romantic or sexual implications.

Shinkenger

Shiba Takeru: does not say “fuck” anymore, because once he said it in front of Jii, who lost his mind. Could kabedon, he’s capable of it, but he’s a little too wound up in himself.

Ikenami Ryunosuke: would never say “fuck.” Not a kabedon type because it seems rude.

Shiraishi Mako: used to work with children, and thus didn’t say “fuck” for years, but now does occasionally--mainly while cooking. Doesn’t kabedon because she has other ways of getting in your face.

Tani Chiaki: is a Gamer and thus definitely says “fuck.” Nonetheless, respects women too much to kabedon them and the only men he might kabedon he is slightly afraid of.

Hanaori Kotoha: is a sweet, precious girl, very dear to my heart, who certainly does not swear or kabedon.

Umemori Genta: only says “fuck” if he cuts himself while preparing fish, or while arguing with fish vendors. Might kabedon to be goofy, but never seriously.

Kusakabe Hikoma/Jii: definitely had kind of a wild youth. Takeru once heard him say “fuck” to a kuroko while working on the clan accounts and has never recovered from the shock. Doesn’t kabedon anymore, but he did once.

Shiba Kaoru: doesn’t actually know the word “fuck” or anything about kabedon, and isn’t going to learn if Tanba has anything to say about it.

Gokaiger--one of the ones I’m sure you’ve all been waiting for

Captain Marvelous: I think we all know that the answer is yes on both counts.

Joe Gibken: says “fuck” quietly in serious situations, and loudly if Marvelous is deliberately getting on his nerves. Does not typically kabedon.

Luka Millfy: uses “fuck” as a general intensifier. Likes guys she can intimidate a little, so she does kabedon, but she mainly does it to Doc and Gai.

Don Dogoier/Doc: if you hear Doc say “fuck” it’s probably the middle of the night and he’s repairing an engine problem. Certainly does not kabedon.

Ahim de Famille: cursing is unladylike--not that she always tries to be ladylike, but she just doesn’t see the point there. Doesn’t kabedon.

Ikari Gai: probably uses some sort of goofy minced oath like “fudge” unless in the actual throes of passion. Doesn’t really have the poise to kabedon.

Basco ta Jolokia: only says “fuck” when no one is listening, because otherwise he might seem less than poised. Would kabedon Marvelous to get a rise out of him.

Go-Busters

Sakurada Hiromu: seems like he’d probably drop the occasional “fuck.” I’m of two minds on the kabedon thing; I think that he could, but I’m not sure that he would.

Iwasaki Ryuji: says “fuck” if he’s working late on some problem. Doesn’t kabedon because he doesn’t want to scare people.

Usami Youko: says “fuck” specifically because it gets Ryuji to make a shocked face at her. Might kabedon if she found someone short enough. She will never find someone short enough.

Nick, Gorisaki, and Usada: no, definitely not.

Masato Jin: says “fuck” with the casual manner of a man who has definitely not just dropped a wrench on his foot. Doesn’t kabedon, but has joked about doing so.

Beet J. Stag (the “J” stands for “Jueki”): says “fuck,” but doesn’t know what it means. Who would he even kabedon?

Enter: only swears in French. Would kabedon with one of his creepy tentacles.

Kyouryuger

Kiryuu Daigo “King”: is a ludicrously perfect shoujo manga love interest, and thus does not say “fuck” but does kabedon in a sexy way.

Ian Yorkland: says “fuck” on dig sites but not in polite company. Might kabedon if it’d make the girl in question smile, does not kabedon men.

Udo Nobuharu: used to say “fuck” sometimes, but doesn’t now that he’s helping to raise Rika. Too busy and tired to kabedon.

Rippukan Souji: is too uptight to do either.

Amy Yuzuki: doesn’t say “fuck,” just makes irritated noises. Might kabedon if it would get someone to stop screwing around and pay attention to her.

Utsusemimaru: is familiar with neither the word “fuck” nor the concept of kabedon, although he might learn about the latter from some of Amy’s manga.

Yayoi Ulshade: says “fuck” when she’s working. Perpetually disappointed that she will never get Daigo to kabedon her.

Candelira and Luckyuro: my beautiful wife and her adorable son have no knowledge of these things.

ToQger

Right, Tokacchi, Mio, Hikari, and Kagura: are all children and thus are barred from engaging with these things. Although I suppose now they’re all fifteen or sixteen, so maybe some of them have started cussing, but I refuse to contemplate it.

Nijino Akira: doesn’t know the word “fuck,” but if he did he’d use it. Doesn’t know about kabedon either, and wouldn’t use it if he did, because that involves getting way too close to people.

Wagon: much like Smart Lady, would kabedon with her leg, but in her case she’s trying to be cute and fun, not creepy. Does not say “fuck.”

Emperor Zett: can in theory say “fuck,” but hasn’t found an occasion to do so. Would kabedon to intimidate, I think he’d kinda puff up like a little angry wren.

Jyuohger

Kazakiri Yamato: will only say “fuck” if he’s just been bitten by an animal he’s taking care of, and even then only if it really hurts. Doesn’t kabedon.

Sera: doesn’t say “fuck” because there’s always something more cutting available. Would bite anyone who kabedon’ed her.

Leo: says “fuck” as long as there are no girls listening. Has been bitten by Sera at least once as punishment for kabedon crimes.

Tusk: says “fuck” about paper cuts, but nothing else. Doesn’t kabedon.

Amu: doesn’t say “fuck” because there are cuter ways to get mad. Doesn’t kabedon herself, but will take any kabedon from someone else as an opportunity to get them to do something for her.

Mondou Misao: says “fuck” sometimes, always apologizes directly afterward. Far too nervous to kabedon.

Bard: says “fuck” at least once a week. Isn’t clear on what kabedon is.

Uncle Mario: you leave Uncle Mario alone.

Kyuuranger

Lucky: does not say “fuck.” Might kabedon in a moment of high spirits.

Garu: is a polite man who neither says “fuck” nor kabedons.

Stinger: says “fuck” frequently. Kabedons with his tail.

Hame: says “fuck” quietly but often. Doesn’t kabedon, and would just vanish if someone did it to her.

Raptor-283: says “fuck” very rarely, but at great volume. Dreams of being kabedon’ed, this is canonical.

Champ: doesn’t curse, and thinks kabedon looks dangerous.

Spada: only says “fuck” in the kitchen, where he can say whatever he pleases, grazie. Could be kabedon’ed.

Balance: says “fuck” if he’s panicking, but only then. Might kabedon for fun.

Naaga Rei: doesn’t do either, and would be terribly puzzled if someone kabedon’ed him.

Shou Ronpou: said “fuck” once when he got his finger caught in the Kyuulette. Isn’t familiar with kabedon, but thinks it looks fun.

Kotaro: is ten years old.

Ootori Tsurugi: doesn’t say “fuck” because it’s not grandiose enough. Definitely kabedons, we see him do it at least once in the show.

LupinRanger Vs. PatRanger

Asaka Keiichiro: might say “fuck” if he’s really angry, but would feel bad about it. Would blush if he kabedon’ed Kairi, but would still do it.

Yano Kairi: has been saying “fuck” on the reg since he was twelve. Would kabedon to make Keiichiro squirm.

Hikawa Sakuya: might say “shit” on occasion, but never “fuck.” Wishes he was the kind of guy who could kabedon.

Yoimachi Tooma: doesn’t say “fuck,” but does think it loudly. Too reserved to kabedon.

Myoujin Tsukasa: could potentially say “fuck,” but chooses not to. Not a kabedon type.

Hayami Umika: mostly has pretty clean language, but will say “fuck” when she’s sewing, especially if she’s just stuck a needle into her finger, which hurts like a bitch. Doesn’t kabedon herself, might giggle if someone did it to her.

Takao Noël: only swears in French, but does so in extensive and exacting detail. Kabedons, but in a chill way.

Zamigo Delma: thinks the word “fuck” is extremely funny. Would kabedon Kairi to make him uncomfortable, but if Kairi’s unavailable then he’s welcome to look me up.

Ryusoulger

Koh: has never said a swear in his entire life. Doesn’t kabedon.

Melto: says “fuck” often, but quietly, so that the others don’t hear him. Seems kabedon’able to me.

Asuna: doesn’t actually know the word “fuck.” Wouldn’t kabedon, like, on purpose? But she’d definitely do it unintentionally, please see this comic for reference.

Towa: will say “fuck” sometimes if his brother won’t catch him at it. Overconfident enough to kabedon, but I don’t think it’d occur to him.

Banba: says “fuck” if things have gotten very bad. Kabedons only rarely, when he needs to be very serious about something. Yes, sometimes that something is “I think about kissing you with such frequency that it’s interfering with my ability to focus.”

Canalo: doesn’t say “fuck” because Mosa Rex would be disappointed in him. Would never kabedon, if he even knows what that is, due to his overpowering Respect for Women. (It has never occurred to him that one might kabedon anyone but a woman.)

Oto: might say “fuck,” and if she did then Canalo would specifically blame Melto.

Nada: uses “fuck” as an expression of dismay, like, “well, fuck.” Not into the whole kabedon thing.

Tatsui Ui: might have said “fuck” once, but then was so embarrassed that she got a case of hysterical giggles. Absolutely does not kabedon.

Super Sentai is done! That was exhausting! Wow! On to...

Ultra Series

I have seen very few Ultra shows, so this section’s gonna be short.

Orb

Kurenai Gai: doesn’t say “fuck,” does curse in some kind of alien language. Doesn’t kabedon, I bet it’d make him blush, although mostly he doesn’t seem like the blushing type either.

Jugglus Juggler: says “fuck” regularly and with relish. Was once described by someone very wise as having “big kabedon energy,” which is to say, of course he does.

Yumeno Naomi: definitely says “fuck” and doesn’t care who hears her. Will kabedon Gai and Juggler simultaneously, one with each hand, and they will both be impressed and maybe a little turned on.

Hayami Jetta: says “fuck” sometimes, but not as frequently as he’d like people to think. Might try to kabedon, although he wouldn’t necessarily succeed at it.

Matsudo Shin: does neither of these things, as they have no relevance to science.

Geed

I can’t really say much about Geed, since we’re not even ten episodes in, but what I can say for certain is:

Asakura Riku: is too nice a boy to say “fuck” and not intense enough to kabedon.

Toba Laiha: definitely says “fuck” on occasion. Would kabedon with her sword.

Pega: is a child.

Igaguri Leito: does neither of these things, he is a sweet man. And I think Zero would disapprove.

Fukuide Kei: says “fuck” with frequency. I think he would, theoretically, kabedon, but there’s no one on Earth he’d do it to.

Belial: I haven’t actually, like, met Belial, but I’m fairly sure his existence is a concentrated dose of the word “fuck,” in the sense of, “oh, fuck, it’s Belial.” If he kabedon’ed he could destroy the planet, please do not let him.

R/B

I’m even less far into R/B, since I’m watching it by myself.

Minato Katsumi and Minato Isami: they do not.

Aizen Makoto: is too weird to do either of these things.

All right, we’re done with the brief foray into the Ultras. Now, last but very much not least, we have...

Garo

Of which I have only watched the original continuity, none of the Ryuuga stuff yet, so it’s a slightly limited take. However, I love all of these characters dearly, so here we go!

Saejima Kouga: is way too upright (and uptight) to say “fuck.” Doesn’t know what kabedon is, wouldn’t do it if he did.

Suzumura Rei: is a man who swears colorfully and at length and uses “fuck” to add a little bit of pep to things. Definitely kabedons, with varying levels of success depending on who he’s trying it on.

Fudou Leo: is a soft-spoken man, but nevertheless does occasionally mutter “fuck” quietly when he’s working on a Madou device. Blushes and stammers at the very suggestion of kabedon.

Mitsuki Kaoru: might say “fuck,” but only in the absolute heights of fury, which are rare for her. Not inclined to kabedon, but even if she was, who could she even do it to? The shortest person she might kabedon is Rei, who is seven inches taller than her, and it only gets worse from there. She’d need a boost to reach, and my dude Gonza’s back is not good enough for that.

Jabi: believes too strongly in the value of language well-used to say “fuck” except when absolutely necessary. Could kabedon with her leg, probably, and would if she thought it’d be useful.

Rekka: says “fuck” sometimes, mostly to express irritation. Most likely to kabedon with a knife or something.

Saejima Raiga, Mayuri, and Crow: I only barely know these kids but I adore them. None of them are allowed to do any cursing. They do not kabedon.

Madou Ring Zaruba: is a ring, so obviously he can’t kabedon, but he can say “fuck,” and I think sometimes he does.

The Moral Of This Story Is: never ask me for a comprehensive list of anything, because I cannot be trusted to do anything but go completely overboard.

#headcanon #completely ridiculous headcanon #anonamouse #i am not tagging all these shows there are too many of them #this post contains more instances of the word 'fuck' than i think i've ever typed before

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shyrose57 · 4 years ago

Note

Brothers anon. Sorry about the previous ask I get nervous easy and feel like I need to check im not annoying anyone at times. If I am ever annoying you though or you want me to do anything though please tell me!

Watson is close to everyone from the group, because he's seen as the dad figure and an easy person to talk too. Besides from that Jackie and Grievous are close and often train or play games together, and Jackie and Ran are close, they don't do much expect just hang out and since their both the youngest that helps them feel a bit closer. Ran and Grievous aren't really close, though Grievous wants to make attempts to become closer to Ran, potentially by inviting him to training sessions or game nights.

The other fighters from the Pit are still around! They mostly aren't around the Pit as they have jobs and other stuff to take care off, but they try to vist often. Like Genevieve and Levi come over on a regular basis to train with them all and just hang out. And sometimes Genevieve and Levi participate in the Pit's fights just for fun.

He was kept in a room in Mizu. The room was reminiscent of a jail cell, with no glass in it, and a door that required a key to be opened, he wasn't completely chained down but they did put cuffs on his wrists to prevent him from moving around to much. Benjamin honestly just kind of felt like something was off, because most people don't commit mass murder without a reason and he couldn't find a reason for Ranbob doing it. And he has reported multiple times (along with the others) feeling a strange weightless feeling near dreams room, almost like their getting sucked into a void, while also hearing a distant voice in their head calling them to come closer. When everyone said they heard the voice, with Ranbob even saying from where he was that he heard the voice but much clearer, and sometimes he feels like he doesn't control what he's doing. Benjamin and Isaac decided to block off the room and nearby rooms and made it a rule that if anyone heard the voice or felt like that to report it to them and where they felt it so ot could be blocked off.

Because Ranbob said he heard the voice too Benjamin started thinking that maybe Ranbob wasn't in control and there's something deeper going on. They specifically figure out its the mask when Charles finds it and brings it up to the group, where reports of the voices and feeling come back ten-fold, and even Ranbob who was starting to show progress and become a bit more willing to talk harshly backtracked to where he almost tried to attack anyone who came into the room. So Charles quickly puts it back as far from the group as possible, with Cletus following him to make sure he actually puts it back. Later they talk about destroying it but the question of what will happen to the possession on it stops them, as what if when they break it, the possession type thing (its not actually a possession I just forget the word oop), moves onto another object? Maybe even connect to them or Ranbob?

Ranbob does learn how to sew! Charles helps him learn actually and it helps the two get close! Cletus and Isaac are forbin as of now to return to Mizu, there are talks about going back later in time but for now everyone agreed it'd be best to hang back and avoid Mizu no matter what.

Life in the house is very hard to adjust to at first for Ranbob especially, its mostly awkward and learning boundaries. But after a few weeks to months living with the fishermen Ranbob becomes much more comfortable to open up a lot. Closest to Ranbob is definitely both Benjamin and Charles, as Benjamin is the one who recognized what was happening to Ranbob and Charles is the one who he spends most time with (mostly teaching Ranbob random skills).

Even after the fight ends Ran is still incredibly mad, and when Ranbob is so much as mentioned he growls and gets more aggravated. The fishermen are mostly surprised, Ranbob did mention there was a survivor that he remembers almost killing before they escaped, but because it seemed like a sensitive topic they never pressed him to tell them more. They never would've expected the survivor was his brother though. And the gladiators are completely surprised, expect Watson, Ran told Watson his past about Mizu and his brother (because I like to think Ran has night terrors due to Mizu and Watson is often the one to comfort him). Its only once Ranbob gets taken off to the medical bay and Ran goes to blow off steam in the training area the two sides talk. Where what they've been told is shared and connections and understandings are made. And they all manage to agree to try to get the brothers at least on talking terms, so they can talk about what happened and at least attempt to fix their relationship.

They are not! Other enderman hybrids do exist but their very rare due to complexity with passing the enderman genes. Though Ran and Ranbob did have a family of 6 they where apart of (the 2 other siblings where younger than them) but not every member had enderman genes.

They do notice how Jackie looks similar to Tubbo but they mostly just brush it off, as if Cletus takes off his head gear he looks like Quackity and of course Ranbob looks like Ranboo with the mix of black and white skin.

Hey, don’t worry about it, seriously. I do the same thing with people, so I kinda get it. I really do enjoy reading these, so really, I should be thanking you for sending them!

The bonds between everyone sound interesting. So Watson’s just generally the dad friend? How does he feel about that? Has he just unironically adopted all these dorks? Is it something of an inside joke? Jackie and Grievous sound like quite the combination. Honestly I can imagine these two either being very chill, or very chaotic, depending on the day. Ran and Jackie just hanging out sounds neat, what do they do together? Do they play games like Jackie does with Grievous, or do they just nap and cloud-watch, or something similar? And Grievous trying to bond with Ran sounds nice, how does that work out for him? Do they find some sort of activity that brings them closer?

I saw you mentioned Ran and Jackie were the youngest, which brings up two things. One, does the height difference remain? I’ve seen a lot of art depicting it as such, and honestly, the thought of some new fighters being tossed into a fight with these two, and A, seeing this short kid next to this ridiculously tall guy, and B, their expressions when being told Ran’s not an adult is very amusing to me.

And two, what exactly is the age limit for going into the Pit? It’s probably not incredibly young, but how old are Jackie and Ran to be stated as the youngest? In their early teens? Late? Older? What kind of rules are there in the fights, no deaths aside?

The other fighters still being around is pretty cool, how do they get along with the gladiators? I imagine fairly well, since you’ve said they hang out, but are they close with anyone is particular? And what exactly is the Pit, besides a tournament? Do people fight for money in there? Do they just fight to fight? Is it open to a lot of people?

So the fisherman hung around Mizu and talked to Ranbob? It must have been strange, seeing the change in their would-be murderer. It does bring up the question of how in control Ranbob was when he first met them. Was he relatively himself at the start, and only begin to fall more under Dream’s thrall later, or was he under it from the start? And how do the fishermen feel about this?

Actually, how young even is Ranbob? I believe you mentioned him to be Ran’s older(?) brother, but as previously said, Ran’s among the youngest of the gladiators, so how much older is Ranbob? How old was he when he was led to kill the residents of Mizu?

I believe the word you’re looking for is possibly spirit? I’m assuming? And yeah, pretty smart of them to get away from it. Do they ever end up dealing with that in the future, or is it a ‘let’s just agree to never go near that thing again.’ kinda deal?

Charles and Ranbob bonding! Very nice! What other skills does Charles have, and where’d he learn them? Actually, what’s the general backstory for the fishermen? Is it anything that could tie in later, or no?

But that adjustment period can’t be easy. As we saw, the fishermens’ house was pretty small, and for Ranbob, to go from literally being the only person there in a huge city, to such an arrangement, well. It can’t have been easy. How did it affect him, and how did the fishermen deal with it?

In relation, how did Ran deal with going from Mizu to outside it? I imagine the lifestyle was a bit different from what he was used to.

So the relationship isn’t so easily fixed, hm? Y’know, all things considered, that’s pretty fair. How do the two groups get along, once they’ve decided to get the two brothers back together? And what kind of plan do they come up with? Perhaps deciding to travel together? Or maybe stick around and fight more? How does that work out for them?

How does Ran feel about the brother that almost killed him being around his new family? And how does Ranbob feel about finding him again? Did he even think he was still kicking, or believe him to be dead?

So Endermen hybrids aren’t that common huh? Does that happen to be why Porkius was so interested in them? And are any of the fishermen or gladiators hybrids as well? Philza’s often shown with wings, and honestly, I’m curious to know if your AU’s Watson is a similar hybrid, or otherwise.

Also, how do the gladiators fight? Are there double battles and team ups? Is there anyone they fight better with? What’s their general strategy?

And how does Porkius feel about these new developments? Does he know? Help out, or let them sort it themselves? What’s going on with our resident king?

#dream smp #dream smp au #Brothers AU #tales from the smp #ranbob #cletus #isaac #charles #benjamin #jackie #ran #grievous #watson #porkius #the lost city of mizu #the pit

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demaury · 4 years ago

Text

open your heart (and let me know you want me here)

9k / friends to lovers / ao3 link

Here is the thing. When he started making that list, he was never planning on his best friend checking pretty much all the boxes right off the bat.

or; a childhood friends to lovers au

1- Someone who makes me feel something. Butterflies and fireworks and all that shit.

He’s fifteen when it happens, and as most things it doesn’t look like much of a big deal at first. It’s a Wednesday afternoon, and although it should be a regular one like so many others, there’s something unique in the fact that he’s sitting on the navy-blue carpeted floor of his bedroom, trying to figure out a math problem, while Eliott is humming to himself and scrolling down his phone on his bed. The setting isn’t what makes it all new, and much less Eliott’s presence — he’s actually one of the very few constants of his life, ever since the Demaurys moved across the street about a million years ago.

What makes it all new, scary, a bit foreign, is that it’s the first time they hang out, since he told Eliott he liked boys. Which- Okay, coming out to Eliott was really not the problem, really, it never was. He wasn’t… He wasn’t scared that Eliott would take it the wrong way, you know, he wasn’t scared that all of a sudden Eliott would start looking back at him with disgust, that’s not what it was about. He just… He just didn’t know how to word it out. When would be the right time, and if there would ever be one — but turns out there had been one. About a week ago, he and Eliott had been texting late at night, and when the conversation had drifted onto Lucille, more specifically Eliott’s lifelong crush on her — it’s not quite the truth, but two years feel a lot like two lifetimes when you think about it —, Eliott had jokingly suggested that Lucas should get himself someone too so they could go on double dates, once she finally agrees to acknowledge him.

(He doesn’t know why it’s taking her so long, and if he’s being honest, he’s a bit prejudiced against her because of this exact reason.)

Naturally, because old habits die hard, his first instinct had been to deflect. I’m not 45 yet, double dates sound boring as fuck, he almost wrote back, but at the last second he had erased all the words and went for Pretty sure I wouldn’t need you to make a fool of myself in front of my very hypothetical boyfriend instead. There had been a few agonizing minutes spent staring at the ceiling after that, phone turned screen down onto his mattress, while he nervously chewed onto his bottom lip with his stomach in knots; in the meantime, Eliott had flooded their conversation with offended texts, because ‘oh, so you just think you can keep me away from him??? That’s sweet’, and just like that, Lucas had felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Eliott asks excitedly, jumping in a sitting position so fast it makes the bedsprings creaks loudly, and Lucas hums in response, still frowning at his math problem without bothering to look back. He loves Eliott, he really does, but that boy has about a million things crossing his mind at all times of the day (and night), so he’s long given up on the idea of giving him his undivided attention every single time something like this happens. “What would you want him to look like?”

Lucas’ hands hover over his equation result for a moment as he blankly stares at his page in confusion, but then he throws a look above his shoulder, and he finds Eliott expectantly looking at him. “What? Who?”

“Your hypothetical boyfriend,” Eliott supplies, his smile widening when Lucas huffs and shakes his head.

“Don’t you think I have better things to think about right now?”, he groans, his attention drifting back onto his homework. He feels like he’s been twisting his brain over this for hours, and it’s not like he can possibly ask Eliott anything on the matter, because he may be two years older, when it comes to math he’s about as useless as a glass hammer.

“Better than thinking about the man of your dreams?”, Eliott gasps, and Lucas is about to tell him that this is all becoming extra cheesy for something that has no actual basis whatsoever when he adds: “You can’t find him if you don’t have an idea of what you’re looking for.”

“Because he’s going to suddenly show up, out of nowhere, just because I started picturing… I don’t know, some abs and a vaguely undefined hair color?”, Lucas snorts. He doesn’t make a habit of asking Eliott to be serious, because well, it’s Eliott, he’s got his head in the clouds a fair share of the time, but, like, come on.

But instead of picking his phone back up and moving onto another topic, one that doesn’t require Lucas’ participation at the very least, Eliott lets out an appreciative noise. “So you are picturing something, good start. Abs and… what’s the hair color again?”

Naturally, Lucas ends up smacking Eliott with his textbook — or at least trying to, because despite Eliott professing a lifelong hatred of sports of most, if not all kinds, he’s surprisingly quick and agile like a giant cat —, and, eventually, his idiot best friend agrees to leave it at that. Which would have been terrific, really, if his brain had agreed to do the same.

But later, much later, when it’s already dark outside and Eliott has been gone for hours, he finds himself thinking about it — that stupid, stupid idea. He can’t help but wonder, what if he’s right? What if he never finds anyone because he just doesn’t know what he’s looking for? Eliott has been crushing on Lucille for two years, but Lucas can’t even remember ever crushing on anyone. There’s never been anyone who made his stomach flutter, who made his mind go blank, who made his thoughts swirl around. There’s never been anyone who made his knees go weak, or turned his stomach to mush.

And maybe, as he keeps thinking about all the feelings everyone always talks about that he never got to experience, maybe that’s when he starts making it — maybe a couple of yearning thoughts are already the beginning of a list.

9- Someone who gives a shit

“How do they fit?” Eliott shouts from behind the bathroom door, and before Lucas has the time to reply he immediately adds, speech rate quickening like the words are tumbling down from his lips: “Because I’m pretty sure I can find something else.”

Lucas throws a glance at his sad reflection in the mirror, catching sight of the tee-shirt falling down mid-thighs and the shorts reaching below his knees; clearly not his best look, he thinks halfheartedly, flattening a couple of strands sticking up at weird angles at the back of his head. It’s only because he doesn’t want his best friend to take the door down that he ends up unlocking the door and stepping out of the bathroom.

“It’s fine, that will do,” Lucas mumbles, because honestly, he’s already crashing at the Demaurys’, it’s not like he can afford to be picky at the moment.

Eliott is standing in the doorway of his bedroom, and he gives him a sympathetic look — warm and gentle, honey-like in sweetness if not in color. “Good,” he nods, a nice smile stretching out on his lips as he slips into his bedroom.

Lucas follows him, shutting the door behind himself. Eliott vaguely smooths his comforter before climbing onto his bed. “What do you want to watch?”

Lucas twists his mouth a little, and for a moment he feels a bit lost without quite being able to tell why. He’s standing in this room he knows by heart, but still, it feels weird and alien. He uncomfortably rubs an invisible spot on his arm as he tries to process what’s different about it all. They’ve done that hundreds of times, he’s spent some of the best afternoons of his childhood and teenage years in Eliott’s house, in Eliott’s bedroom even, but…

But he’s never done that.

He’s never slammed the door after one too many fights and straight-up imposed himself at the Demaurys’, and judging by Eliott’s demeanor ever since he showed up, soaked wet from the rain outside, he knows he feels it too — it’s weird. It’s different. It’s not the usual excitement floating in the air.

“I don’t really feel like watching anything right now,” he confesses, fiddling with the hem of Eliott’s way-too-long tee-shirt. He’s just tired, he’s heard so much yelling today it’s like his ears are ringing.

“Oh, yeah, no, it’s fine,” Eliott says quickly. He pats the spot next to him until Lucas caves and joins him. “I just thought you might… I don’t know, like a distraction.”

“Being here is enough, don’t worry,” he says, maneuvering himself on the mattress before folding his legs against his chest, and honestly, he wishes that were true, he really does.

Because Eliott is Eliott, and he really doesn’t want his friend to feel bad about him any more than he already does — so Lucas does as he usually tries to do. He tries to shove it all as far down as possible, in the smallest corner of his brain, where it doesn’t hurt as much. He tries not to think about the fact that tomorrow is another day, that eventually he will have to come back home, and how much he doesn’t want that. He tries not to think that Eliott’s tee-shirt feels soft against his skin, and that even if it’s the weirdest sleepover they’ve ever had, even if something feels off, he still feels a thousand times better here than he does at home.

Eliott crosses his legs, and leans forward to reach for a pair of earbuds on his nightstand. “How about some music? You can choose whatever you want.”

Lucas’ eyes travel a few times between Eliott’s eyes and the earbud that is offered to him, and he picks up with a small huff. “Alright, okay.”

Eliott makes a small, content sound, like it makes him genuinely happy to spend the night with his grumpy self, listening to songs that aren’t even remotely close to his personal taste — and maybe Lucas goes along with it. Maybe he’s selfish like that, but this one night, he just gets along with it. He lets soft piano music soothe his mood a bit, slowly lulling him into sleep until his head gets too heavy and he has to drag himself to the guest mattress that has been set up for him like so many times before.

Crossing the street to go back home, that too he’s done a million times, but not often with that weird gut-feeling of walking right into a no man’s land. His dad’s car is nowhere to be seen, and the silence is deafening as he pads through the silent house. He shuffles upstairs to change before school, going about his morning routine with a weird tension lodged between his shoulder blades, his head too full of thoughts, and he’s shoving a biology textbook into his backpack when he sees it. It’s a DVD — Ratatouille. It’s, embarrassingly enough, one of those movies he could watch over and over again without ever tiring of it, and obviously Eliott knows, obviously, because they’ve watched it so many times since they were kids, and who else would have put it in there?

His mouth twists into half a smile when he picks up the DVD, a bright yellow sticky note on the front of the box. Everything is always better on Blu-ray, I promise ✳

11- Someone who fucking sticks around and doesn’t leave when things go to shit

A Blu-ray isn’t enough to make it all better, as it turns out, but Lucas surely appreciates Eliott’s gesture for what it is, and all those that follow later, when his family situation goes from bad to worse to terrible. He’s never made a habit of setting a stupid list of resolutions with every new year, but this time, and this time only, he’s resolved to stop thinking about that fucking new year. At best he’s allowing himself to laugh it off. Divorced parents? Funny as hell. Mom in a psychiatric ward? Hilarious. Family house on sale? Hysterical. They’re cruising around the near-empty supermarket, aimlessly going from one aisle to the next as Lucas picks up random stuff to drop them into the cart Eliott is pushing. It’s another Wednesday, it’s lunchtime, and he knows there’s nothing to eat at home, because there’s been no one to go grocery shopping for him.

“So what are you guys planning for tomorrow?”, he asks distractedly.

Just because he’s single doesn’t mean he’s clueless about the ways of those who aren’t — and he knows that tomorrow night is a big deal for Eliott, long before they even take left and stumble onto a sea of sugary pink and velvety red. An aisle has been pushed to the side at the center of the store to clear some more space for Valentine’s Day displays. The racks are filled with chocolates of all kinds and flavors, heart-wearing Teddy Bears, gifts, cards and even plastic flowers, but Eliott doesn’t really seem to pay attention to anything. Which, in itself, isn’t that surprising. He’s been dating Lucille for three months now, ever since they got paired together for some oral presentation at school and that it finally opened her eyes at how wonderful Eliott is, so Lucas doesn’t really expect his best friend to go for the first generic box of chocolates he finds.

“Uh, I don’t know,” Eliott says evasively, following Lucas when he walks past the Valentine’s Day area. “We haven’t talked about it much yet.”

Lucas hums. “It’s your first Valentine’s Day,” he points out distractedly, eyes skimming over various cereal brands, and he ends up reaching for a Crunch box that he drops into the cart, “I’d have expected you to buy balloons and a giant Teddy Bear or something.” Or simply to show up at Lucille’s window with a boombox, he almost adds, but he keeps it in just in time. Eliott doesn’t need any bad idea of that kind. Judging by his musical taste, it’s frankly better for everyone, starting with Lucille’s parents’ neighbors.

He hears Eliott toying with the shopping cart chain. “Luce’s kinda busy. Her parents are on her case with the BAC and all,” he says, and Lucas gives him a look, from his spot at the end of the aisle, that makes Eliott’s eyebrows shoot up innocently. “What?”

“Why are you lying?”, Lucas asks, squinting his eyes a little.

Eliott scoffs, but it comes out wrong — off-key. “I’m not lying.”

He’s definitely lying, Lucas thinks bluntly, and he rolls his eyes to himself. His best friend is so painfully transparent that he should probably be grateful about it, he should probably be happy that he’s able to read him like an open book, but instead he hates that Eliott doesn’t seem to have any clue when it comes down to it — it makes it even more annoying whenever he tries to lie to his face. “You are,” he retorts with a pointed stare. “What’s up? I thought you’d be over the moon or something.”

Eliott squirms behind the cart, his hands awkwardly drumming along the handle. “Oh, no I am, truly,” he says quickly, “I just thought we could… I don’t know, maybe go watch a movie or something. You and I.”

And there we go, Lucas thinks, and it’s like a weight is dropped onto his shoulders, making them slump with an inaudible woosh. There’s a pang inside his chest, and it’s not a big one, it’s not a breath-altering one, not those that make you want to curl into a ball and cry, it’s just the kind of sting that reminds you of a sore spot. A bruise still a little tender, a scar still noticeable.

“Are you asking me out, Demaury?” he snickers, trying to deflect the sudden change in the atmosphere, but he already knows it’s useless because he can’t be the only one going for it — they both have to play the same game, and he already knows Eliott isn’t willing to.

“I just think you might want some company,” Eliott says with a nice smile, and although Lucas loves that smile, he really does, this time it just doesn’t work.

“I’m fine,” he replies briskly, and he pulls sharply at the end of the shopping cart to move it forward. It’s a petty gesture that seems to startle Eliott, and he immediately feels bad about it. “Your girlfriend doesn’t need you to worry about me, she needs you to fuss over her.”

“But I-”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

Eventually Eliott nods, muttering a small ‘right’, and Lucas has to pretend he doesn’t want to rush out of here, lunch be damned. He hates it, he hates when Eliott is like this, and hates even more that it’s because of him. They walk through the store for a few more minutes, mostly in silence, only occasionally making a small comment or two about things they see on their way to the cash registers. Eliott starts filling the reusable shopping bags Lucas retrieves from his backpack while he pays a ridiculous amount of money for his purchases, and then they’re off.

“Hey,” Lucas mumbles pitifully as they reach the bus stop at the end of the parking lot. “I… I’m sorry if I was rude. I really appreciate what you do for me, everything, it’s just… I’m just trying to hold it together.” He looks away, tracing a weird line in the concrete from the tip of his shoe to avoid Eliott’s eyes.

“It’s okay, I shouldn’t be pushy,” Eliott says, and there’s the faint trace of a smile in his voice. He leans down to squeeze the shopping bag he’s holding between his feet. “But I want you to know I’m here, okay? I’m not going anywhere, so whenever you feel like talking… I’m here.”

It takes Lucas a few seconds to look up, and there’s something so soft and gentle into Eliott’s expression that it makes something melt into his chest almost instantly. He finds himself mirroring Eliott’s smile, albeit lamely — not quite as beautiful, not quite as warm, not quite as reassuring. He finds himself thinking about what Eliott just said for a while, as they hop into the bus and make their way home one stop after the other. He's not going to accept his offer for Valentine's Day, because if anyone deserves to be taken care of on that special day, it's Eliott's girlfriend. But still. Maybe, someday, he can manage to find someone who just doesn't leave.

15- Someone who feels like home

It’s a long while before he thinks about the list again — he doesn’t even know where it is, but he guesses moving abroad for a semester tends to do that to you. He’s in his second year of uni when he jumps on the Erasmus offer, and between paperwork and packing up and unpacking and settling down and trying to, maybe, eventually, meet some new people to make the next three months of his life somewhat relevant on a human level, he doesn’t have much time to think about whether or not he’s going to meet the man of his dreams at the next street corner, much less whether or not he checks an inordinate amount of criteria.

Frankly, it’s not that big of a deal. Lucas has never been excessively hopeful about it in the first place, so he can’t really say it’s something that requires a lot of self-discipline. Occasionally Eliott brings it up over text or FaceTime, because he’s an idiot like that, and he’s his best friend, so of course he considers it his double duty to bring up that kind of corny, embarrassing prospect.

“I don’t know, he’s kinda cute in a way,” Lucas says one day, roughly two weeks after landing in Oslo, about some guy he’s met at a party. He’s dutifully sent Eliott his Instagram handle for approval, and for the past few minutes they’ve been going through his publications over FaceTime, like they’re back in Lucas’ old bedroom, with Eliott on his bed and Lucas sitting on the floor.

“He looks fifteen,” Eliott replies unhelpfully, snickering a little. “Didn’t know it was a turn-on of yours. Did that one make the cut?”

“Shut up,” Lucas scoffs, and he regrets not being able to send something in Eliott’s face in retaliation. Besides, he looks barely his age himself, it’s not like he’s in a position to comment about someone else’s appearance — something Eliott promptly dismisses as soon as Lucas points it out, because ‘Lucas, don’t expect me to tell you you’re not ridiculously attractive’, and he’s vain enough to take the compliment without arguing.

After that, well, he goes back to not thinking about it.

Final terms are rolling around and he crams for it, and before he can even catch a breath, it’s already the end of the semester and Christmas is right at the corner. He lands back in France three days before Christmas Eve, and of course he crashes at Eliott’s, because he hasn’t spoken to his father in nearly four months and a half, so it’s not like he even has options to choose from — but he has to admit, it feels nice, knowing he’s going somewhere he’s wanted. Eliott has been buzzing over it for weeks now, making plans for movie nights and places to go and people to see, so much that Lucas almost forgot to be sad about leaving Oslo.

“I’m so fucking happy to have you back,” Eliott says excitedly, voice a little too loud in the narrow stairwell leading up to his third-floor one-bedroom flat, and he’s so eager that he ends up bumping Lucas’ suitcase a couple of times between the stairs, the wall and the banister.

“Jeez, calm down,” Lucas huffs, “the whole neighborhood doesn’t have to know I’m here, thanks.”

Eliott opens the door of his flat with a nudge from his shoulder, not looking even remotely sorry. “Well, that’s just the beginning if we get a place together,” he singsongs, and Lucas shakes his head a little — but deep down, he loves it. His cheeks are hurting from smiling, and he feels his shoulders relax instantly as soon as he crosses the threshold. Nothing has changed since he left last summer. Not that he expected it to, but it’s always nice. In the small, cramped living room, Eliott has already prepared a pillow and a comforter, carefully folded to the side of the couch, and it’s not even that late (not even 10), and the flight wasn’t even long (not even three hours), but Lucas already feels very compelled into dropping himself there and wrapping himself into the blanket — so he does just that. He quickly nibbles on a leftover sandwich he bought at the airport in Oslo, while Eliott excitedly rambles about some renting options he’s seen here and there, and then he quickly sets up his bed.

His best friend is sweet enough not to make fun of him for it, and when he flips off the light on his way out of the living room with a cheerful ‘sweet dreams’, Lucas doesn’t think, for one second, he can love him more than that.

“How about this?” Eliott grins triumphantly as he turns the lion plushie he had growing up in his direction. Lucas isn’t sure, but he thinks it might have been supposed to look like Simba, before he proceeded to drag it everywhere with him until the color irrevocably turned a dirty mix of greenish-yellow and grey. “Don’t you miss him?”

Lucas huffs, shaking his head, and he turns back to busy himself with a heavy storage box filled with what looks like bedsheets and drapes of various kinds. “I’m way past needing plushies, thanks,” he snorts, reaching for the plastic lid of the box to replace it in its dusty corner.

They’ve been here for about twenty minutes, in the storage unit where most of his and his mom’s stuff are neatly piled up in, and although he initially thought that this would be easy, because ‘C’mon, it’s just a storage unit, it’s not Versailles in there’, turns out there are lots and lots of things to search through. He doesn’t regret bringing Eliott along, to be honest; it takes at least two to make their way around all the stuff, and at least Eliott can reach the upper shelves. At first they had started renting the unit to store his mom’s things away after the divorce, but when Lucas moved to Norway, he couldn’t afford to pay both the student lodging and rent at his old flatshare simultaneously, so he was forced to give up his spot over there and to store his things here in the meantime.

“Have you no heart?” Eliott gasps, and when Lucas turns back, he’s pouting as he gives the plushie a sad look. “We’re definitely watching Toy Story tonight.”

Lucas rolls his eyes fondly with a scoff, and eventually, after another moment of staring, Eliott agrees to put the lion back into whatever cardboard or plastic box he found it and to move the fuck on. In the meantime, Lucas moves over to another stash of smaller plastic boxes, still looking for the clothes he left behind before Oslo, but it’s not long before Eliott makes another sound, that has Lucas’ head whipping around.

“Hey, remember this game?” he asks, grinning as he waves a version of Risk. “God I miss that old peasant woman who told us off whenever we would be beating up people.”

“Dark Eliott was really a formative experience, but don’t ever end up on the wrong side of the tracks, thanks,” Lucas snickers in his corner, taking the lid off one of the boxes before he starts rummaging through its content. There’s a bit of everything in there, from old assignments to a snapback, pictures, a couple of textbooks, and as he keeps digging through it all, Eliott huffs something he doesn’t quite catch.

It’s during that overall quiet and regular afternoon that the list makes its comeback into Lucas’ life, after months of barely giving it a thought, and maybe at least a year of not adding another entry; it slips out from an old Annabac textbook when he picks it up from the box. The fold is a little wrong and the corner slightly crumpled, and for a second he contemplates just shoving it back at the bottom box, because he’s really not in the mood to entertain that kind of ridiculously hopeful thoughts for a better future or whatever, but in the end there’s a weird kind of curiosity that pushes him to open it.

Just a quick look, he thinks, discreetly peering above his shoulder to find Eliott busy in the opposite corner. The list has a total of 54 entries, ranking from thoughtful to shallow to frankly depressing at times. A wry smile shows up on his lips at entry #4: he gotta be tall because I’m not spending my life climbing ladders to change light bulbs. Or even better, the entry #9: someone who makes me laugh so hard I cry — it has something terribly soft to it, almost… pure.

The entry #29 is entirely Eliott’s fault, he knows it right off the bat: not too many tattoos thanks. It’s crossed, because shortly afterwards Eliott got his first tattoo for some obscure reason, and despite Lucas’ adamant protests, his best friend insisted that he accompanied him to the parlor for the big day — and then he got another tattoo, and another, and after some time Lucas was forced to realize that… okay maybe tattoos were okay.

The rest of the entries are sometimes awfully precise (#34 ‘light eyes????? Fuck yes?????’ and #41 ‘abs. abs. abs.’), or completely vague (#29 Fucking consistent). And then there’s entry #50. One of the last entries, that he probably wrote towards the end of high school or during his first year of uni, during a lonely evening at the flatshare — a very graphic description of what he’d want his imaginary boyfriend to do to him, which he had written after watching some porn locked up in his bedroom.

“What are you doing?”

Eliott’s voice sounds so close that Lucas startles guiltily, snapping the list down against his chest in the textbook definition of caught red-handed. Eliott’s eyebrows shoot up as they make eye-contact, and Lucas tries to ignore the way his cheeks heat up. “I- uh- nothing,” he croaks out. “Just going through old stuff.”

There’s a glint in Eliott’s eyes, like he knows, like he can read through his fucking mind — like he too just read that entry #50. Stop fucking spiraling, he doesn’t know shit, he admonishes himself. The only thing he knows is that Lucas is acting like a teenager caught looking at porn.

“What?”, he asks, trying to find back his composure.

Eliott shrugs, with that annoying little smirk on his ridiculously pretty face. “Nothing,” he says, voice drawling a little, but he’s motioning next to Lucas to busy himself with the upper shelves in Lucas’ direct vicinity, and he knows his best friend is being annoying on purpose.

Lucas squints at him from the corner of his eyes. Seemingly unbothered, Eliott stands onto his tiptoes, arms extended at their maximum capacity to reach for a big, dusty cardboard box almost touching the ceiling, and his tee-shirt is riding high and showing the smallest trace of his rib tattoo curling down his side, and that’s when it creeps onto Lucas, at the worst, most inopportune moment. His eyes travel back and forth between Eliott and the list a couple of times, and despite his best efforts to keep calm, Lucas’ stomach starts doing a weird somersault.

Oh no.

Here is the thing.

When he started making that list, he was never planning on his best friend checking pretty much all the boxes right off the bat. That couldn’t have been farther away from what he had in mind, he’s pretty fucking sure of it. And yet here he is. He’s slipped the list into the front pocket of his hoodie before they left the storage unit, and then he took it out to shove it in his laptop bag, where he’s pretty sure no one will find it. It’s not that he’s afraid Eliott would be weirded out about it, it’s just… It’s a lot. Because it’s one thing to be aware that your best friend is insanely attractive, and it’s another one to think that maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t mind being the one he kisses, the one he pulls by the waist at night, and the one who makes him feel good in bed.

The irony of the calendar (and his life, really), makes it that the next few days are just a whirlwind of Eliott Eliott Eliott, and by the time Christmas rolls around, Lucas is ready to die. Not because he doesn’t want his best friend anywhere near, but because he would very, very much appreciate if his brain could just fucking stop bringing up that wishlist every fucking five minutes — every single time he so much as glances or thinks about Eliott. Which tends to be problematic when he’s literally living with him at the moment. All of a sudden it’s like he’s hyper-aware of all the times Eliott smiles at him, reaches out to ruffle his hair in the morning, or has a nice gesture of any kind. It’s like he feels somewhat guilty for every laughter they share, and when they go do some last-minute Christmas shopping, Lucas walks around on automatic pilot for the better part of the afternoon, after inadvertently catching sight of Eliott’s arm flung around his shoulders in a mirror.

The only upside of having a dysfunctional family is that for at least 24h it takes Lucas’ mind off Eliott and that weird-ass situation his fifteen-year-old self put him in the first place. He spends Christmas Eve with his father and his new wife in a restaurant, and if one can’t be caught dead trying anything to make his son feel at ease, the other is trying so fucking hard it makes Lucas wants to throw himself in the traffic on the way to pick up his mom at her subway stop. Because yes, his stepmother insisted that he brings his mother, and Lucas was chicken enough to accept, just so that he wouldn’t have to sit through the whole dinner with his father and his weirdly enthusiastic second wife.

The whole dinner is as awkward as it can possibly be, but then Lucas comes back to Eliott’s place, early enough that his best friend is still at his grandparents’, and he tries to make sense of the feeling of relief he feels when he drops himself on the couch, only to see Eliott’s sketchbook on the coffee table, and Eliott’s hoodie thrown carelessly on the armrest, and Eliott’s drawings pinned up on the walls, and the piano pushed in the corner. It used to be in Eliott’s bedroom back at his parents’, and they would mess around trying to get the Star Wars theme right with four hands on the keyboard.

None of these things feel new — but all the hyper-awareness is weird enough to make him want to scream and hits his head repeatedly with the flat of his hand. And the worst part is that it keeps going on like this. Spending Christmas day at the Demaurys’ shouldn’t feel so weird either, and yet. He’s always been Eliott’s platonic plus one at every single one of his family birthday dinner, so he knows everyone and everything about this family. He knows that one of Eliott’s uncles and his godfather will inevitably end up on different sides of an argument about politics, that Eliott’s dad will probably try to lighten the mood, that Eliott’s younger cousins will pout for a fair share of lunch or dinner except when they’ll venture on TikTok halfway through, that Eliott’s grandmother will make a passive-aggressive comment or two about the food that his mother will try to ignore, and at some point, as always, she’ll go to the kitchen, and make a weird face only for Lucas to see, and that he’ll have to bite the inside of his cheek not to laugh — he knows all of that, because he’s been around for fifteen years.

But still it does feel weird. A little bit. And not just because he’s never spent a Christmas dinner with them. It feels weird, because it downs on him that Eliott is single, and that he’s single too, and that although Eliott’s mother welcomes him as soon as Eliott walks him and asks if they can add a plate, when they take off their coats, Lucas catches a silent conversation between her and her husband that results into Eliott’s dad shrugging. Did they ever think they were more than friends? Did they ever think Lucas was more than just the kid from across the street with a fucked-up family? Because he himself never did, but now it’s all he can think about. And if he had been a girl, or if Eliott had been a girl, if they had been in a boy/girl kind of friendship, he knows that at some point the Demaurys would have asked for ground rules, no matter how ridiculous it would have felt for them. No closed doors in the afternoon, no sleepovers in the same room, and with every birthday dinner or birthday lunch, people would have just assumed they were a particularly chill couple who refrained on PDA.

So that’s how he spends his Christmas lunch, alongside the Demaury family. He laughs at the jokes thrown around, at the same family memories he’s heard a bunch of times already, rolls his eyes at the political arguments on the other end of the table, and spends entirely too much time pondering the ins and outs of heteronormativity and the way it may or may not have shaped his relationship to his best friend.

“You okay?”, Eliott asks at some point on his way back from the kitchen, squeezing his shoulders lightly, and Lucas has to crane his neck all the way up to make eye-contact because his best friend is standing behind him.

“Yeah, I’m all good,” he says with a smile, and when Eliott goes to sit back at the table, Lucas tries his best to ignore another look he catches between Eliott’s parents.

“Can I ask you something?” Eliott asks from his spot against the stove, hands tightly wrapped around his mug while Lucas pours himself his second coffee of the day.

It’s officially the last week of the year, and to Lucas’ great dismay, he’s not particularly sure that any of his internal questioning sessions will die at midnight on New Year Eve. To make matters even worse, he doesn’t feel like he’s slept one bit, and although he initially tried to conceal it at best as he could, he guesses he’s making a poor job considering Eliott joined him for breakfast roughly three minutes ago and is already picking up on the signs.

“Yeah, sure,” Lucas says, trying to sound relaxed, nose in his mug to avoid looking Eliott in the eyes.

“You would tell me if you didn’t want us to move in together, right?” Eliott enquires after a moment. “I mean, it’s not the first time I get an idea and I run away with it and you’re…”

“No, no, I still want to,” Lucas interrupts, and he hopes his voice doesn’t sound as weird and scratchy as it feels in his throat. Because he does. He genuinely still does want to go through with it, because no matter how fucked up his brain is making things for him lately, Eliott is still the closest from home he’s ever felt.

Eliott hums. “Oh, okay,” his voice trails off, sounding hesitant, “I mean I was afraid you might have changed your mind and didn’t know how to tell me.”

Lucas laughs, but deep down he wants to slap himself because it sounds like chalk screeching on a blackboard in the silent kitchen corner. God you’re so fake. “I don’t know where you got this idea, I’m still 1000% in.”

Eliott looks sheepish, chewing onto his bottom lip uncomfortably. “Look, I know… I mean you’ve been kind of quiet lately, and I know sometimes you get lost in your head a bit. I don’t want you to think you can’t, like, talk to me or anything.”

Lucas’ grip tightens around his mug. He doesn’t deserve Eliott. No one does, but especially not him. “I’m fine it’s just… You know, Christmas mood isn’t my strong suit,” he mumbles, eyes falling. “Plus, going through all that stuff the other day… It brings up some memories.”

After all, it’s not a lie. It did bring up a lot of feelings and thoughts, and although they aren’t all that unpleasant, it’s surprisingly difficult to maintain eye-contact with your best friend when you spent most of the past few days trying not to picture his mouth on you.

“I’m sorry,” Eliott says, sounding so absolutely genuine that Lucas wants to smash something — preferably his head against the kitchen sink. “Of course I don’t know how you feel but, you’re not going through it alone, right? I’m here for you. Always have and always will.”

Lucas swears he could cry. He can’t possibly keep it to himself. Not when Eliott is his best friend, not when they’re just about to start looking for a place to live together, not when the longest Lucas has tried to hide a secret from him was exactly ten hours. “You’re checking a bunch of boxes,” Lucas confesses with a long sigh, eyes falling shut for a second.

A weird kind of silence settles in the kitchen, tension lodging between Lucas’ shoulders.

“What are you talking about?”, Eliott asks after a moment.

“The boyfriend list,” Lucas mumbles, shaking his head to himself. “Or wishlist or whatever. It’s fucking dumb, I know, and I never realized that before, but the other day I found that stupid list again in my stuff at the storage unit, and now I don’t know what to do with it, or what to think.”

If anyone needs a guide on how to ruin a lifelong friendship, Lucas Lallemant is your reference, he thinks humorlessly. But it’s Eliott. So maybe it’s not that bad, right? It doesn’t have to be a big deal. And okay, maybe he is making a big deal out of it, maybe he wouldn’t have to be afraid about Eliott’s reaction if he wasn’t the one making it sound like-

“And you feel like… it’s a problem?” Eliott asks carefully, as if he had followed his train of thoughts.

Lucas sneers, finally turning around to meet Eliott’s eyes. “Well, you tell me. I’m shaping my imaginary boyfriend after my childhood best friend, what does it say about me?” He’s pretty positive it’s not the sign of someone with a perfectly balanced life.

“That you have great taste,” Eliott grins, but it kind of turns into a wince when Lucas lets out a groan. “Hey, it doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want to, alright? I’m nothing extraordinary, I’m sure plenty of guys check those boxes.”

“But…?”, Lucas prompts, because it feels a lot like Eliott isn’t done but he’s really close to tell him that pausing for dramatic effect right now is definitely not the nice thing to do.

Eliott’s hands are still gripping tight his coffee mug. “But nothing. Like I said,” Eliott adds, clearing his throat a little, “it doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to.”

Suddenly it hits Lucas that he sounds fucking nervous, like, actually nervous. Why is he nervous? Oh right. He just made things weird. “Why? Do you want it to mean something?”, he asks, hoping to go for a casual laugh, but it comes out wrong, off-key.

“Well… I started making a list too, a couple of years ago,” Eliott says, before pausing. His mouth twists a little. “And it’s… uh, it’s possible you’re checking a bunch of boxes as well.”

Well that’s just getting better and better, Lucas almost says. It’s Eliott’s turn to avoid his eyes and Lucas isn’t sure what’s going on but he’s pretty positive he doesn’t like it, because now things aren’t just weird on his part anymore, and he has no idea what to do with that piece of information.

Eventually, because he’s like that, Lucas snorts — it’s just too much. “Look, I appreciate it if you’re trying to make me feel better but-”

Eliott looks offended. “I’m not,” he says, sounding earnest, and Lucas’ words die in his throat. “Okay, you know what? Come with me.” He puts his mug down onto the kitchen elements, and Lucas doesn’t even have the time to say anything before Eliott motions to leave the kitchen, dragging him along in his wake. His own coffee mug still in his hands, he stares in confusion as they walk into the living room, his best friend going to retrieve one of his sketchbooks from the tiny coffee table.

The next few seconds are particularly silent as Eliott flicks through the pages, but he eventually exhumes a loose leaf from the depths of the sketchbook. What strikes Lucas first is that there’s a lot of black ink on it. Lines, sometimes full-on paragraphs have been crossed with a thick black marker, which offers a stark contrast with Eliott’s rather small but clean handwriting.

“See? I’m not lying,” he says, and he seems to hesitate for a split second, before he hands it to Lucas. “You can read it, if you want.”

No that’s personal, is the first thing that comes to his mind. It’s the right thing to do. It’s the kind of thing he would want people to think about his very own stuff — that it’s off-limit, that peeking is rude, that it’s intrusive. He knows he’s an adult, he knows that, and Eliott is an adult too, and even more so they literally grew up together, they figured shit out together, so it’s not like Eliott would bat an eye if he ever read anything about Lucas’ slightly graphic descriptions, no.

But would he die on the spot from the sheer embarrassment? Probably.

And yet — when Eliott holds his list, he picks it up. He’s a hypocrite like that.

“Boy there's a lot of marker,” he says dumbly, cocking an eyebrow, but deep down all he can think about is that he’s holding that stupid list Eliott wrote, about the things he wants in a partner, and he hates, he hates that there’s some kind of weird hope fluttering deep inside him.

His eyes skim over the entries, more avidly than he’d like to admit. Naturally, Eliott my-head-in-the-cloud Demaury cannot go straight to the point, so it’s not surprising that each entry turns out to be at least a full sentence long.

3- They don’t mind a good challenge and won’t pass on an occasion to try out new things even if that means stepping out of their comfort zone.

8- They understand that mental health isn’t smiling all the time.

14- They’re straight-forward enough to say when things aren’t fine and don’t dismiss it with a shrug.

“Okay but that could be anyone, Eliott,” Lucas says flatly, turning the page over, and he tries his best not to feel disappointed because it’s not like he has the right to be. “And I’m sorry but I think the last time someone called me ‘optimistic’ was, like, in kindergarten, and it was about another Lucas.”

“Well that’s the thing,” Eliott argues with a small shrug, and he buries his hands in his pockets. “To me it’s kind of… you. And I know it’s confusing because well, I was there too, but I feel like… I don’t know, the point of making a list like that in the first place is to figure out what matters and what we want, no?”

Lucas’ hand tightens around his mug. “I mean, yes,” he admits, voice dragging slowly on the last word. But does that mean you want me? He can’t get the words out, it’s like his mouth is full of gravel. Another reason why Eliott’s list can’t possibly be about him, he’s far, very, very far from being brave. Or even ‘quick-witted’ for that matter — he only has biting come-backs that would also get him beaten up in middle school. “But between knowing what makes you comfortable and knowing that you want to know your best friend in the biblical sense, there’s an ocean,” Lucas points out, a bit more dryly than intended.

Eliott’s cocks an eyebrow. “In the biblical sense,” he repeats, laughter not far behind as he perches himself onto the armrest of the couch, and just because of that, because of the subtle way Eliott’s voice changes, because Lucas knows he’s biting back a laugh — it’s because of these small things that the tension lifts a little, and that the atmosphere shifts to something more bearable.

“You know what I mean,” Lucas huffs.

Eliott grins, that kind of annoying grin that made Lucas smack his face with textbooks back in the days. “Oh, yeah, I do, don’t worry about that.”

Lucas rolls his eyes, eventually glancing back to Eliott’s list — but it’s like the words don’t print themselves in his brain, like he can’t comprehend those simple sentences written in Eliott’s oh-so-clean handwriting. “You haven’t told me what all that marker was about,” he croaks out after a moment of silence.

“And how about you tell me how you actually feel about this?”, Eliott asks gently. He rises up from the couch, stepping closer, and Lucas finally finds the courage to look up long enough to hand him back his list.

“I think that you deserve to find someone more than anyone else in the world,” Lucas says, voice getting a bit quiet as he grabs tightly his cold coffee mug with both hands. “But I don’t know if that someone could be me. I never thought… I mean it’s only been a couple of days, before that I never thought of us like that.”

“But you did in the end,” Eliott points out.

It gets Lucas’ brain to work, the wheels turning even faster — because Eliott’s right. He didn’t come to think of being romantically involved with Eliott because Eliott showed him his list, he got there all by himself. And the problem isn’t that Eliott is repulsing, it’s not that the thought of kissing him and going on dates with him is weird, it’s not that falling asleep next to Eliott is grossing him out. The problem is-

“I think I just don’t want to risk losing you,” Lucas admits in a whisper, eyes falling. He’s never been in an actual relationship. His list of exes should be requalified as, at best, weeks-long flings, and he does not particularly think he’ll be a natural at this, courtesy to his parents displaying the opposite of a healthy relationship for most of his life — the last thing he wants is to hurt Eliott in the process of trying and failing.

He only looks up when Eliott’s hands cover his own around the coffee mug. “I know. And I know no amount of promises on my part will make it better, but if you need me to I’ll repeat it every single day.” His thumb gently caresses the back of Lucas’ hand. “I’ll be there as long as you want me to. And if you don’t want me like that, then it’s fine too. I’ll still be there no matter what.”

Lucas takes a deeper inhale. “Why are you so calm about all of this? How long have you been sitting on that shit to be so chill now?”

Eliott looks sheepish. “Two, three years maybe.” Lucas’ mouth falls open, but Eliott quickly adds: “I mean, it’s not that I was like, just fantasizing about you for like three years straight, it’s just that, like, I always thought you were always the one that…” His voice trails off and he huffs a laugh. “See why I didn’t say anything before? It’s just… it’s so hard to explain.”

“Yeah,” Lucas snorts, chewing onto his bottom lip. “Tell me about it.”

But deep down he’s starting to understand what Eliott means. It’s hard to put into words every little thing that makes Eliott the person he needs most. Something not even a list of a thousand entries can do. And maybe that’s why it feels so alien that, to Eliott, he’s the perfect match to his wishlist. To me it is you, Eliott had said before, and now he gets it. He gets it because Eliott’s hands are around his own, he gets it because Eliott would probably be willing to tattoo ‘I will not leave you alone’ somewhere on his arm if Lucas asked. He gets it because Eliott has been sitting on his own feelings for three years, and still he helped him out pick up guys, sort out his life, encouraged him to leave for a whole different country, and he was only brave enough to go through any of it because Eliott made him feel like he was capable of doing so.

“My list is a mess,” Lucas confesses. “And I should probably cover a thing or two before you see it because that’s, like, not appropriate for a first table read. But if you want to read it… Then you can read it. And then you can decide if you think you can put up with me more than you already do.”

Eliott’s smile is soft and blinding at the same time. He takes one of his hands off Lucas’, and when he pulls him closer by the neck, Lucas still feels weird about it, but not in a bad way; there’s just something churning in his stomach that wasn’t there not so long ago. He just leans into the touch as Eliott’s lips press onto his cheek, because Eliott smells good, and it makes him feel warm and protected in a way no one else ever made him feel.

“I’ll be honest,” Eliott says quietly, not pulling much away, “that’s why there’s so much marker on mine.”

This time Lucas feels warm for a whole different reason. He feels the tip of his ears heating up a little bit, and he’s positive it doesn’t have to do with Eliott’s immediate vicinity. “Well,” he says, clearing his throat a little bit, “that’s… something to think about.”

“One step at a time though.”

Lucas finds himself smiling, mirroring Eliott’s expression, his eyes trailing a second too long on Eliott’s lips. “Yeah. One step at a time.”

#skam france #elu fic #eluficrec #mine #*#it's been so long i feel like i don't know how to write anymore <333 #*my fics

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nothing-but-dreamy · 3 years ago

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SLEEPLESS NIGHTS

Pairing: FFXV! NYX ULRIC x READER

Words: 2.262

Warnings: angst, fluff

Synopsis: To have feelings for someone isn’t always easy, mostly not for Nyx. And then, it’s Yn: his best friend and partner as a Glaive. Considering his past and the loss he already had to endure, he tries to store his feelings away. To protect himself. And to protect Yn...that's just not working with an unplanned confession...

'No! Yn, don't! Fall back! Get safe!', Nyx called out, seeing the big paw aiming for her position. It was a nightmare...no! Even worse. It was reality that reminded him of one of his nightmares he had during the last months. Since he noticed he had feelings for Yn, his best friend and partner, Nyx got nightmares on a regular basis. And all of them had one thing in common: Yn was always dying

No matter what Nyx did to fight back. No matter how fast Nyx was to hurry for help. No matter how much of a hero he was. He was always too late. And every single time, he had to watch her die like his sister.

In his dreams, every time, Yn looked at him helpless, seeking or pleadingly for rescue. And every time, Nyx reached out for her. And still, he was too late. Sometimes, he couldn't reach her at all and just could watch from a distance. Sometimes, he could reach her and was still not able to save her. Nyx always lost her. And each time, when he awoke, soaked in his own sweat, panting for air, he was determined to bury his feelings for her as deep as he could.

Then, Drautos had teamed her up with Nyx to fight against a Behemoth. A big, mean monster of a beast that had found its way to the wall. Of course, Yn was hooked immediately, she was always ready for a fight, but Nyx started to argue that he wanted a different partner. Just someone else than her.

From the corner of his eyes he had seen how Yn's face fell. The former excitement changed into resentment, unsure why her friend reacted like this to work with her. Nyx saw the betrayal in her eyes. Doubting their friendship and everything nice he had ever said to her.

But in his eyes, it was the best thing that could happen to her. Nyx knew that he brought bad luck to the ones he loved. And this time, he wanted to make a difference. This time, he wanted to control Fate like it always controlled him. And if that meant he had to deal with her anger or that she even ended their friendship then, he would live with it.

Much to his dismay, Drautos didn't listen to whatever Nyx came up with without telling him the truth behind his request to switch partners. His captain stuck to his plan and Nyx had to obey…

All this ran through his mind, as Nyx entered his room after they were back from the mission. He was sweaty, dirty and tired but they had lost no one. Not everything had been easy on this mission but at least, Yn was still alive and healthy.

Nyx was just about to take a shower, he already opened the jacket of his uniform, as someone knocked aggressively on his door. As he opened it, Yn stormed into his room. Not her typical, civil manners but Nyx wasn't really surprised. Now, he just had to be careful to say the right things.

"We have to talk.", Yn demanded, stopping in the middle of his room with crossed arms and tapping foot.

"About what?", Nyx asked coldly while closing the door. He avoided her eyes in fear of what he would see. Alone her angry voice let him already regret a few things.

"About today? First of all, why did you try to team up with someone else? You refused to work with me. Why? You never did that before.", Yn asked and waited. She noticed that Nyx stayed in some distance to her, leaning against the wall next to the door. He wasn't even able to look her in the eyes. It was unusual and if she wouldn't be that angry, she might have asked about it.

"I had my reasons.", Nyx just said.

Yn waited but as he stayed silent, she stepped forward, "Oh, yeah? You wanna tell me what reason?"

"No, I don't want.", he said serious.

Surprised, she raised her brows before her face went back to the angry grimace, "Alright, then what was that on the battlefield, huh? Can you talk about that?"

Nyx clenched his jaw together. He was tired from the mission and tired from the countless, sleepless nights. He also feared if he wouldn't watch out, he could say something he might regret later. Obviously, the fight to keep her safe from him was still not over. Maybe Nyx had to be more mean to save her from himself, "I saved your ass. You wanna thank me? Fine. You're welcome.", he said snappishly, finally looking into her eyes. What he saw in them froze his blood. He had never seen her so angry before. Pure hatred stared back at him.

With gleaming eyes, she stepped forward, "I didn't mean to thank you. It's arrogant of you to think I needed your help.", she hissed.

"You trust me, right?", Nyx asked calmly and saw that he took her off balance with this question. Slowly, the anger vanished from her face and almost completely out of her beautiful eyes.

Yn stopped in her moves and stared at him with big eyes, confused about the sudden change, "Su-sure, I do, but-"

"Good. Then, you have your answer. Trust me, I did the right thing. And now, leave me alone.", Nyx said, pushing himself from the wall to pass her.

Yn grabbed his wrist and turned the taller man back to her, "Are you nuts? Are you trying to get killed? The situation was under control and you ran into my line! I almost hit you!", she said. Her voice had changed from anger to concern. And even her eyes were filled with it.

Nyx saw how much she cared about him. She took the actions from the battlefield as something reckless from him. He saw that she feared for his life or what he could do to himself. That was wrong, at least, in some way, "I had to protect you!", he called out, losing his nerves slowly.

Yn's eyes went big by surprise about his sudden outburst before she became serious again. She knew that he thought he had to protect everyone around him but Yn saw it kinda differently, "I didn't need to get protected!", she called out but tried to calm herself because in the end, it was still Nyx, her best friend. Of course, he would watch out for her, "Listen, there was no danger. Everything went like planned. And even if, why do you think you have to save me?", she asked softly.

"Because I god damn love you!", he blurted out, yanking his wrist out of her grasp to turn around. Angry about himself, he raked violantly his fingers through his hair as he realized what he had said.

Yn stood there, staring blankly at Nyx' back while she tried to process what just had happened, "Y-you do- what?", she breathed. Her mind searched for a way to see that as a joke but there was no payoff. Slowly, Yn raised her eyes back at her friend, "You can't do that... You're Nyx... You never love someone. Y-you stay away from any romantically involvement-"

Nyx turned around, staring angrily at her that let her flinch. He saw it but he couldn't change it, "Because I already lost too much!", he hissed.

"Nyx...", Yn said softly, knowing exactly what he meant with his mother’s and sister’s death. He had lost his home. He had lost a lot of things. He was alone and felt maybe even lost. The easiest way was to cage himself.

He shook his head about her calm voice and the soft, loving glance in her eyes. He wasn't allowed to give in, "Alone the thought of losing you gives me nightmares and today, it was pretty close...", he whispered, fighting back tears he wouldn't shed.

Yn stepped forward, reaching out for him, "Nyx, please..."

But Nyx stepped back at the same time to keep the distance. He knew, if he would get touched by her for one second, he would be done and then, there was no way to go back, "Please, just leave.", he whispered.

Yn considered her next step carefully, maybe to give in to his request, but as she saw Nyx' tormented, painful expression, she couldn't leave him alone. She didn't want to leave him alone. So, she ignored his plea and stepped further forward to reach him. Softly, Yn laid her hand on his scruffy cheek, brushing against the small braids in his hair with the tips of her fingers while looking into his perfect blue eyes.

Nyx leant against her touch, closing his eyes while inhaling her warm scent. Alone this small touch let his skin burn in an all consuming fire. He was craving for more and knew at the same time that it would end him and his strong will to resist his wish to be close to her if he would give in.

Tilting her head, Yn smiled about this innocent move from this tough man, "Nyx, you can't block out everyone from your life.", she said softly.

"But I can try.", he whispered.

"But you shouldn't. For what reason should you be all alone?", Yn asked and waited for his reaction. Now, where everything became calmer, she noticed how her heart was racing because of his confession. Without knowing it, Nyx had said the words Yn craved to hear from him.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, meeting her intense glance watching him, ‘God these eyes’, he thought. They were haunting him day and night and he wished he could see a love-filled glance in them that would be reserved just for him. At least, for once, "It could save lives. It could save your life."

Yn chuckled softly, "I'm pretty good at watching out for myself. Always have, always will. Don't worry about that.", Yn said reassuringly, "That shouldn't stop you from getting what you really want."

Nyx snorted low about her confidence and shook his head with a smirk. Slowly, he snaked his arms loosely around her waist as he noticed that his neatly built wall started to crumble slowly, "You're so extremely persistent.", he whispered.

Yn snaked her arms around his neck, raising her head to keep eye contact, "Of course, I am. You're so damn handsome and perfect, Nyx. I always thought I would never have a chance with you. That we would be just friends. And then you drop this confession? Count on it that I would fight for this opportunity to get close to you.", she said with a smile.

Steadily, Nyx dragged her closer to his body, tossing his doubts and concerns slowly overboard after her words, "You mean close like this?", he whispered smirking, enjoying having her in his arms finally.

Yn matched his smirk and pulled him down, closer to her, "Actually, I mean close like this.", she breathed and connected their lips. Both relished in the pleasure to feel each other. Yn shuddered as she felt Nyx' warm, strong hands sliding underneath her shirt. He caressed her skin with his fingers and nails as he dug into her back, pulling her as close as possible.

Blissfully goosebumps spread down Nyx' spine as Yn tickled his neck with her nails. Softly, she let her fingers slide into his black-greyish, long strands, playing with the braids that granted her deep, throaty moans from the hero. She smirked against his lips about his reaction. To know to have this kind of impact on such an incredible man, turned her on even more…

A knock on the door let them both freeze in their moves but as Yn tried to escape his grip, Nyx held her strong in his embrace and shook his head slowly with a smirk. His breath was uneven and his heart was racing but his training as a Glaive allowed him to keep his composure. Still staring into Yn's hungry eyes, he answered: "What is it?", his eyes flickered down to her slightly swollen lips.

Provokingly, Yn licked over her lips with her tongue as she saw his dark, lust filled glance.

"Nyx... Drautos wanna see us all.", Crowe called through the closed door.

"Alright, I will be there in ten.", Nyx called back, letting his eyes roam over Yn's face, already having certain ideas in his mind how the night would continue when they were alone again.

"One more thing... uhm... I can't find Yn. Do you know where she could be?", Crowe asked and even through the door, Yn and Nyx imagined her frowning where their friend was. Yn raised one brow questioningly about how Nyx would answer.

"Sorry, I haven't seen her since we're back. But maybe she's at the training ground. Letting off some steam."

"Okay, I'll go and get her. Thanks.", Crowe called back and left.

"Letting off some steam, huh? Quite the opposite, I would say.", Yn breathed seductively against his lips.

"True, but that gives us a few more minutes for this. A foretaste for later.", Nyx breathed, matching her tone, and crashed his lips hungrily back on Yn's to feel her close again. More than willingly, she moved with him. Pulling him even closer with her hands grabbing the fabric of the shirt underneath his jacket, feeling his body reacting to her touch.

And just like this, Nyx’ sleepless nights filled with nightmares got exchanged with another type of sleepless nights… shared with Yn…

#final fantasy imagines #final fantasy 15 #final fantasy #final fantasy kingsglaive #kingsglaive #ff15 #ff15 nyx ulric #nyx ulric #nyx ulric x reader

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popatochisssp · 5 years ago

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I tried to resist, I really did, but @llamagoddessofficial is literally The Worst and has inspired me to think about cowboys, one of my very vulnerable Achilles’ heels. I have many of these, I am a many-heeled abomination, at least 90% composed of heels

So, FUCK IT-- Wild West AU

Sans (Undertale): He’s the town layabout, no job and just drifting around as he pleases, often sleeping out in broad daylight. He’s got a bit of a reputation as a grifter, liable to trick a fella out of his own boots if he ain’t careful, but he’s pretty well-liked and considered harmless enough to get away with it. If you don’t know better than to ignore his tricks and swindling, the figuring is that you deserve to get yourself conned-- now you know for next time, eh?

Papyrus (Undertale): A simple cowherd working for one of the local farmers. He’s kind to the animals and does good work for his employer, but he’s got big dreams, bigger than working on somebody else’s farm... What he really wants is to start his own ranch-- his own horse ranch! It’ll take a long time to save up the money, even with his brother’s (dubiously legal) help, but he knows he can do it! And in the meantime, he’ll just look longingly at all tied horses of cowboys just passing through and think, ‘SOMEDAY...’

Sky (Underswap Sans): He tends bar at the local saloon! A lotta people think he’s gunning to own the place with how happy he seems working there, pouring drinks, tapping his toes to the music, enthusiastically busting up the fights the rowdy drunkards get into... He likes the work just fine, sure, but really what he’s after is the sheriff’s job-- the lawman around his parts is a bit of a yellow-belly and the way Sky sees it, it’s only a matter of time before his nerve runs out. He’ll be keeping an eye-socket out, waiting for his chance to step in.

Paps (Underswap Papyrus): He runs the local general store, keeping everything well-stocked for anybody who needs goods and supplies and selling it at reasonable prices. He’s the quiet type and keeps to himself, but everyone knows he’s a very respectable sort of fella and can overlook that he seems a bit antisocial at times. Nobody really minds if they’ve gotta ring the bell on the counter to get his nasal ridge out of whatever book he’s reading, because he’ll get them exactly what they need and not make them pay an arm and a leg for it.

Jasper (Underfell Sans): He’s a cardsharp, making his living by gambling. He...may also be wanted for...aggressive solutions to gambling-related disagreements, but quite frankly, he doesn’t take kindly to being called a cheater--most especially not when a gun’s pulled on him afterwards. The reason aside, he stays on the move by following his brother from town to town and helping him with his work...but he does hope someday he could settle down again somewhere where nobody’s after him, maybe...maybe start up his own smithy, like he used to have ages ago... That’d be nice.

Pyre (Underfell Papyrus): A bounty hunter, making his living from tracking down criminals and bringing them in for the cash they’re worth, dead or alive. He always tears down his brother’s poster whenever he sees it and happily...discusses...with some others in his profession why they should leave that particular bounty be. Most agree that it’s really not worth the money, having to come up against Pyre in the process, and any that don’t are quickly reeducated. The law itself...mostly turns a blind eye to this-- they won’t rescind Jasper’s bounty, he is a criminal, but...Pyre is very skilled at hauling a lot of truly dangerous criminals off the streets on a regular basis and they like that on their side... So, there’s no need to bog him down with any aiding and abetting charges either, right? At least, not as long as he’s so useful...

Mal (Swapfell Sans): Formerly a simple banker, forced to go on the lam after some lowlife tried to rob his brother and he shot the man dead in a duel. Normally a perfectly acceptable way of dealing with such base thievery, except that the snake in question had friends in high places who thought Mal ought to hang for enforcing his own justice. He made his way to a distant, nigh unknown frontier town where he made himself its sheriff-- easier to keep the law from finding you when you are the law, isn’t it? He keeps his past tightly under wraps, and with as little contact with anyone from a big city as his town has, it’s just as easily done as said.

Rus (Swapfell Papyrus): The local teacher, soft-spoken and kind, great with the kids and patient with all their questions and always coming up with the most interesting little craft projects to keep them busy and happy. Everyone loves him and nobody’d ever guess in a million years that he was a wanted man, too, guilty by association with his brother. He’s a bit jumpy around loud noises and a little (a lot) wary of any strangers who come to town, but most just pass it off as one of his many eccentricities and think nothing of it.

Slate (Horrortale Sans): Frontier towns are great, exciting opportunities for people to explore and make new lives for themselves...except when they’re not. Slate’s from a town bought up by a crooked railroad baron, and when the settlers and homesteaders wouldn’t pack up and leave, the bastard caused a rockslide in the pass into town, so they couldn’t leave. A lot of people were successfully starved out by the tactic, but some survived via...unpleasant means. Slate was one of the few who eventually made it out, scarred and broken from the ordeal but still alive to try and start their lives over, somewhere else. He’s a humble miner now, quietly doing his day’s work and going home and never breathing a single word about where he used to live...before.

Papy (Horrortale Papyrus): He lived the same horrible nightmare as his brother, and it drove him to study medicine! So many people were injured in the rockslide, to say nothing of the sickness and suffering afterwards, and he read as many medical textbooks as he could get his hands on so he could be more helpful than he was. Nobody in his current hometown minds that he’s self-taught, a doctor is a doctor, and he’s certainly the most caring and attentive one the people around these parts have ever had!

#undertale #sans #papyrus #headcanons #wild west au #underswap #us!sans #us!papyrus #underfell #uf!sans #uf!papyrus #swapfell/fellswap #sf!sans #sf!papyrus #horrortale #ht!sans #ht!papyrus #yeehaw

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dailyaudiobible · 4 years ago

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05/25/2021 DAB Transcript

2 Samuel 7:1-8:18, John 14:15-31, Psalm 119:33-48, Proverbs 15:33

Today is the 25th day of May welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I’m Brian it is wonderful to be here with you today as we…as we lock in and buckle up and do what we do every day, take the next step forward on the journey that we have embarked on through the scriptures this year. And I guess we’re moved into 2 Samuel by now since we’re moving into chapter 7, but we’ve probably got the lay of the land. 2 Samuel is dealing with the life of David, whereas 1 Samuel was dealing with the life of Saul. And as we’re dealing with both of these people there are sharp contrasts, and we can find things about ourselves in both of these men. And now we’re focusing on David who is king of all Israel at this point and is Israel’s 2nd king. And, so, we pick up the story in Samuel chapters 7 and 8.

Commentary:

Okay. So, through the course of our year so far and even recently we’ve talked about the boxes that get made to stuff God in so that we can have a better understanding of God but He’s bigger than the box and He won’t fit in the box. And, so, that kinda…kinda gets us disgruntled and we can’t figure out mystery. So, we’ve talked about these kinds of things that bring us tension on our journey of faith. We actually have a real God box described today in the Old Testament in the book of 2 Samuel. David is now firmly established as “the” king of Israel. There are now rivals, he is the king, and he has used that kingdom to subdue the enemies all around him so that there’s respect and peace around the nation. And David has had a very nice palace built and gifted to him. And, so, he lives in this nice palace. Basically, he’s able to slow down a little bit and look around that all that he has and all that he’s in control of and he has this rev…revelation, this sort of realization that his nation is in good shape, he’s in good shape, he has everything he could dream of but…but God, the Lord God who made all this possible still lives in the same tent that He’s been living in, the tabernacle, since…since the time of Moses. And, so, actually from a good place in David’s heart he’s thinking, you know, he’s making this comparison and thinking “I have it better than God. Like, I have been blessed with so much here and then the Lord is living in a tent and we need to make God a spectacular home to live in. This box, this walled in area, this temple for God to live in.” And David shares that with the Prophet Nathan who’s like, “yeah, if that’s in your heart than do what’s in your heart.” But that wasn’t what was in God’s heart. That’s the thing. And, so, God’s speaks to Nathan who then comes back to David and this is where we get this…this kind of God box description. Through Nathan the prophet, God says to David, “are you the one to build a house for me to live in? I have not lived in a house from the day I brought the people of Israel up out of Egypt until today. I have been moving around in the tent and the dwelling. I have traveled everywhere with all the people of Israel. Did I ever speak a word to any of the judges of Israel whom I commanded to shepherd my people or ask them, ‘why have you not built a house of cedar for me?’” I think this is really interesting because what God is saying is, “you know, you’re not gonna put Me in a box. I am out and among the people where I have always been. Everywhere you’ve gone I’ve gone with you and led you. That’s how this works.” Now as we know, Solomon, David’s son, the next king who we haven’t met yet, he will be given permission to build a permanent temple. And he actually will bring Israel to its finest…finest hour. But it’s interesting to just sit there and look at David, look at what he might be thinking realizing how blessed he is, how fortunate. I mean he has had his share of struggle. So…and so there is no way that he can’t appreciate where he is now. Running…he was running for his life from cave to cave and now he’s the king. And he knows that this only happened at the hand of God. And he looks around at all he has and in his good heart wants to build something even bigger for God. And isn’t that kind of what we do? Like God has blessed me and I need to build something big for God and we start thinking along those lines. And man, it gets mixed motive.…our motives get mixed really, really quick. Cause we’re gonna build this big thing and people are gonna see us build this big thing and so we’re gonna get the notoriety and the performance value for building this big thing for God. And maybe God doesn’t want that thing built. Maybe He’s just fine being out and among the people. What exactly would we conceive of building for God that just on the face of it is gonna be so impressive that God becomes speechless? I’m mean we’re talking about the Being who spoke the world into existence. So, what are we going to build for God? That really, really checks our…our motivations. That really, really checks why we would try to do some of the things that we try to do. What we ultimately find out as we continue the journey through the…the bible is that we are the temple of God and God indwells us and is everywhere that people are, He’s within us and among us and hovering around us. So, He doesn’t really need the box. It’s we…we seek out the box so we can say, “there…there is God, that’s where God is, that’s what God does, that’s what God does not do. Whatever is not in that box is not of God.” So, what if we were to start realizing that we are that temple, that box, if we want to call it that? Are we open? Are we surrendered? Like are…are we available or are we a closed box and we just tell God who He is and what He does and doesn’t do all the time? We just quote scriptures back to Him like He’s forgotten or never really even knew what was in the bible. And we sing worship songs that describe for Him who He is as if He doesn’t know anymore. What kind of freedom would there actually be if we let go of all of that and said God is God, which is well, well, well beyond any possibility of my human understanding? Like, all of eternity, a billion, billion years from now I will still be learning new things about the Lord. So, I…I do not know what I think that I know. What kind of freedom would there be in just believing in faith that He loves us profoundly and wants to draw near and we don’t have to come up with a formula for that, we just have to draw near back? Think of the freedom in that, the freedom of being in a loving relationship. Let’s live into that today.

Prayer:

Holy Spirit come. We are so often trying to become aware of Your presence through our intellect when You remain beyond anything that we can conceive of. We only see glimpses and…and they’re so good that we want more, but it’s You who comes in Your kindness and graciousness to be among us. So, we want to experience You for who You are in the gentle, unhurried way of…of actual love, of actual relationship instead of us running around thinking of what we need to do to impress You or what we need to do to impress everybody else so it can seem as if we’re closer to You. We don’t need any of that. We just need intimacy with You. There’s nothing else that our heart…like this is what our hearts truly crave, and we fill it with all kinds of other stuff. And, so, forgive us for, even though we’re the temple of being a closed box that simply tries to control You. We pray this in the mighty name of Jesus. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com, that’s home base, and that’s how to get connected and stay connected and find out what’s happening around here. So, check that out. If you’re using the Daily Audio Bible app you can access all of these things from there. There is a Drawer icon in the upper left-hand corner of the app and you hit that, and it pops open a drawer.

And, so, you can access things like the Community section, which is where the Prayer Wall lives as well as the Daily Audio Bible Shop where there are resources there for this journey. All kinds of stuff. We have the Daily Audio Bible journal in the Shop that we’ve developed over the years to be the perfect size to carry around. Like, it’s just the…the “the” journal that we’re using around here to journal in. Things to write in like the Black Wing pencil line. I love journaling with a pencil. That’s been going on for several years now. Everybody has their own preference but it’s a little old school to have a really great pencil and sharpen that pencil and write in your own hand, old school, in your own penmanship no matter how bad it might be, to say things. And I’ve journaled digitally in my life, I’ve done that, it’s just a different kind of process than just sitting down, sharpening a pencil and just kind of allowing what’s in your heart, what’s in your mind to flow out onto the page. It’s really, really helpful and the precedent is very much in the bible. We’re continually instructed to remember, remember what happened here, don’t forget God’s faithfulness and…and when we’re pouring that out on the page in our own hand it sure is nice to go back when things get foggy and it seems very unclear, to be able to go back and see, yeah, that thread is true. God has always been here and has always been faithful. And we begin to tell the story back to ourselves as we read through our journal. And it’s an incredible thing. So, stuff like that, resources like that are in the Daily Audio Bible Shop. So, check that out.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible you can do that at dailyaudiobible.com as well. And I can’t thank you enough other than to say what I say on a regular basis. This wouldn’t be happening if we weren’t in this together. That’s just a fact. And, so, I’m humbled and awed and grateful that we are on this journey and have been on this journey for these years. And I thank you with all of my heart for your partnership. So, yeah, there’s a link on the homepage. If you’re using the app, you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or the mailing address is P.O. Box 1996 Spring Hill, Tennessee 37174.

And as always if you have a prayer request or encouragement you can hit that Hotline button in the app, the little red button up at the top, you can’t miss it or you can dial 877-942-4253.

And that’s it for today. I’m Brian I love you and I’ll be waiting for you here, tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hi, good morning this is D from New York. I’m about a four-year listener and second time caller. My first call was early March when I, my husband, and my son were sick with COVID. And, so, this is a praise report to say that we’ve all recovered very well. Thank God and thank you for your prayers, especially Randal’s who I heard a couple of days after I recorded my prayer request. I’m also calling for Mom Tries. I just heard her prayer request. Congratulations on becoming a pro athlete, a pro triathlete. I totally understand the jitters and the nerves that you may be experiencing or maybe not quite since I’m not a pro athlete. I am a 66, 67-time marathoner, a novice triathlete and as an indoor athlete I totally understand, and I get it. And I pray that you perform well this weekend at that full Iron Man and know that all things, you can do all things through Christ who strengthens you. I’d like you to give us peace feedback and let us know how it went. Praying for you girl. You’re going to do wonderfully. Bye-bye.

Good morning DAB family this is Laura from Eugene, Oregon. I’m just calling in with a grateful heart this morning as I’m listening to the reading, as I listen to Brian’s commentary, to the prayer requests and the prayers being lifted up. Thank you each one of you. I am so so grateful to be a part of this Daily Audio Bible community. I just wanted to share an answered prayer. I called in a while back with a prayer request from my son’s mental health. He was really in a bad place and it’s always concerning with him and he is such in a better place now. Prayer is powerful. So, thank you. I just pray now that he can come to know the Lord again. He accepted the Lord as a child but he’s far away now. So, that’s where that true healing can happen. So, I just am praying and asking you to pray with me for his return to the Lord. His name is Andrew. And then I’m also asking prayer for my mom Alice who just received a cancer diagnosis this week. It was very unexpected, and we’re all in a little bit of shock and not knowing where to go next. So, of course we are turning to the Lord and I’m asking you for prayer for healing and for wisdom and discernment as we go forward and navigate this whole situation. Thank you DAB family. I am so grateful for each one of you and I love to pray for you. It’s my honor.

Hello this is Gods Tree From Many Branches But I Am Rooted in the Word of God. I’m calling because I feel like I needed to give some words of encouragement. About two years ago I called DAB desperate, crying, and upset because I got an announcement that my brother was suicidal, and the police were looking for him and everybody was looking for him and we didn’t know where he was, and I called you all immediately to start praying immediately for my brother. Praise God, we found him, and they were able to get him help, and he was… he had a total breakdown. He went through a total mental break, but God was able to restore him and get him to counseling he need and get him back on track. And it’s been two years later, and he is living happily. He is in love with the Lord, he is trusting God for everything in his life. He still has a lot of things that he needs to straighten out in his life, and he still beats himself up for things that he’s done but he knows God has given him grace and giving him mercy. And he has found joy and he’s found a purpose in life. And I wanted to give this encouragement to those who are struggling right now in dealing with depression and even suicidal thoughts. Bind the enemy and rebuke him in the name of Jesus because there is happiness after the darkness. You will find joy after weeping all night long. God is an awesome God, and He is the Keeper and I just want you to trust Him and believe it’s going to get better, take it from me. In Jesus’ name, I do pray for you. Amen.

Hi this is Victorious Soldier just calling pray for some of the DABbers. I want to pray for…for Keith and Grace the lady with her husband and her who was having some challenges. I’m gonna pray for you and your family. I wanna pray for Michael Rowing the Boat Ashore, just thank you for being a part of the DAB and continue to pray that God continue to bless you. Thank God for bringing you aboard and thank God for giving you some wonderful insight into His word. I wanna pray for Paperclip and Allison’s son. It’s so good to hear that. I didn’t realize you had a son. Thank God that you’re free and thank God that you’re there and just stay in the word. We’d love to hear from you. Tell Allison Shalom, Shalom. I wanna say, Shannon from Salem, praying for you in your classes, that suicide prevention is great. Prayerfully, with all the depression and everything that somebody will latch on and see that life is worth living and God would give ’em joy. Gracious Father we just lift you up. We praise you for the DABbers, we praise you for the light. I want to pray also for those who have lost their mothers or lost their fathers or are going through with their children with the depression and everything that’s going on Lord, we just ask You the names I call and the ones that are going through with the depression the one that’s going through with the COVID. Lord, we just ask You to have Your way. We thank You for our brother over…overseas who is doing better. We just lift you up. We praise Your name, Lord we just ask You to touch as only You can do. We ask You to speak the word Lord. We ask You to…to connect with them and let them feel You that You are there and I’m recognizing and acknowledge You that you can direct their path…

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loneveenas · 5 years ago

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the masked man | anno domini | 01

every lifetime is a new one. no actual reconnections to the past. but what if that reconnection is suddenly there?

𝒘𝒆 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒙𝒚 𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒖𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒆

a sakusa x reader multi-chaptered reincarnation au

words: 1,306 warnings: angst with fluff, post-apocalyptic world, mentions of death

note: a suuuuuper big thanks to @infamouswhitepawsies and @keimoons for betareading this first chapter!! really helped me kick this off right. <3

jump to: 01 | 02 || mlist

Startled from the sudden scare, you opened your eyes and shot up straight in your bed. You looked around, and thank god, you were still in your own room. You touched your face and pinched your cheek.

Ah, it hurt.

Nevertheless, you sighed in relief; luckily, it had only been a dream. You lean back into your bed, letting your back touch the sheets again. Right as you lie down, however, a nauseous taste came flying into your mouth and throat, giving you the urge to puke.

"Not again,” you groaned, slapping your hands against your face in an attempt to wake yourself up a little more and to make the nausea go away. It worked the previous few times.

You shot a quick glance at your alarm. When you saw it was only half past six, you groaned even louder.

Well, it wasn't like you could fall asleep again or anything, so your choices were down to only two: you could either get out of bed and get ready for work, or you could stay in bed until your actual alarm would ring.

You chuckled. Who were you kidding, there was no way you would stay in bed these days. The first time you tried, it was nice. The second time, however, you found out that the nauseous feeling only got worse.

It was weird, but ever since you woke up on Monday three weeks ago, you would have dreams that would evoke a sense of déja vu nearly every night.

Last night was no exception.

It made you sick to the core—literally. Nonetheless, that wasn't stopping you from going to work. In fact, you should be glad you were one of the few humans who still had a job.

At the same time, there was this feeling telling you something was going to happen at work. Well, mainly your dreams were the ones telling you that, but mostly because the things you saw in them served as a basis for your gut feeling to act up. And one of those things was a faceless man interacting with you. He literally had no face. Everything was there, except for the eyes, nose, and lips…

Really, something was so off about it, but you couldn't put your finger on it. Maybe it was the fact that you could see yourself interacting with the man from a distance, but that seemed too simple. You only knew that you’ve already seen these things in real life at some point ; the dreams felt so real, so lifelike—moreover, the man felt too familiar, even though you knew for sure you had never ever seen him before.

But no matter how much you wanted to scour your mind for an answer, it wasn't like one would come up just like that. It made you so tired. The only thing you wanted was a simple good night’s rest—was that too much to ask for?

“Thank you for your order and we hope to see you again soon!” you said, forcing your best fake enthusiastic smile on your face through your sleepy state and handing the person the cup of coffee. You turned around to clean up the coffee machine and the coffee you had previously spilled.

He was a real human—the customer, that is—and you were actually really grateful for that. The situation was quite difficult these days, especially with cyborgs and robots restraining every human from doing… basically anything. You still can’t believe it’s already been so long since humans lost total control over everything and that they became slaves of technology – literally.

Despite this, it’s hard to forget the year count; the number 482, indicating the years since the so-called ‘revolution’, is plastered all over the city.

It’s been almost three years since the situation started to get even worse. Looking back at that time, you had been very lucky. Tokyo was in a very arduous situation and—not that it was anything new, with the half-destructed buildings and the run-over government—humans were getting arrested and sometimes an even worse fate was waiting for them. The place where that fate would lead them… only God knows where that is.

If you hadn’t met Kuroo Tetsurou after the cyborgs bombarded your family’s home, who knows where you would be right now. Maybe barely alive, maybe not even alive at all.

If it wasn’t for Kuroo Tetsurou, you wouldn’t have gotten a job as a barista at this cheap coffee shop, and would probably have gone insane over the man appearing in your dreams. (Or nightmares..?)

If it wasn’t for Kuroo Tetsurou, you would have never believed the stories your grandfather used to tell you.

Reincarnation? Please, you used to think. There’s no such thing.

But you did meet Kuroo Tetsurou, and you did begin to believe in the reincarnation theories that your grandfather wouldn’t shut up about. Because Kuroo Tetsurou and you were certain that you had met each other in another lifetime.

You couldn’t believe your eyes when you first saw Kuroo sitting in one of the big chairs, scribbling on some papers. The two of you didn’t really know where you knew each other from—the connection was just there.

He was working on his next newspaper article. He was working for the government, and had his work cut out for him. It had been right after the government had been completely thrown over.

You shiver at the flashback.

The bell of the store chimed, breaking you out of your stream of consciousness, and you sighed. “Good morning,” you said without looking up, setting up the cash register.

There was a soft answer in return and multiple feet shuffled over the ground.

With a quick look to pinpoint the newcomer, you threw the used cleaning cloth in the sink and turned around, wiping your hands dry on the apron. He slowly looked up. “What can I do–” you started, meeting the face of the person that was straight in front of you, “–for you…?”

While the man was looking at the menu, you were getting all sweaty. Multiple thoughts shot through your mind.

This was him. Wasn’t he?

You almost knew for sure. It was him. No denying it. His black hair, his height and posture… Everything matched.

Only then you noticed the other men surrounding him. Who were these people in uniforms surrounding him? You suddenly became very wary of your surroundings, since you couldn’t see their faces at all. Maybe some were cyborgs or robots…

But those had different postures and builds from humans, you had learned pretty soon in school.

“Yeah, I would like to have a…” he started, but you didn’t let him finish.

“Sakusa-san?” you questioned out loud, making the customer look up, staring you right in the eyes. The name rolled over your tongue with a refined familiarity. A sting went through your head right as you mentioned the name, but you chose to ignore it. “Sakusa Kiyoomi, is that you?”

His eyes flew from the board above you, and back to the board. You couldn’t entirely read his facial expressions, neither could you really see any hint of recognition—the bottom half of his face was masked—but on the other hand… you saw a glint of recognition. You did see it, but only for a millisecond. But before the man could say anything in return, one of the people around him sighed, and spoke in a deep voice: “Mister Jung, this isn’t the time for autographs. We were only getting coffee.”

“I told you to not call me that,” the man snapped.

The man shrinked immediately, yelping a quick, “Yes sir.”

“Two regular blacks and two Frappés,” the man said blandly, not trying to make eye contact with you at all

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musetotheworld · 5 years ago

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Kara/Nia The two of them take Nia's mom's ship to Naltor. It's a two week trip each way. Both of them are crushing hard on the other, but think it's one sided.

“And you’re sure everything will be okay while we’re gone?”

Nia turns to her luggage to hide her frown as she overhears Kara once more asking Alex about how safe Earth will be in their absence. And she gets it, she does. Ever since Supergirl came out, the world has been nearly ending on a regular basis, most often with Kara right there on the front lines holding it back. Being away for a month has to be a scary thought.

But really, does Kara have to sound so…desperate?

Ever since Nia’s dream about returning to Naltor, Kara has wavered between excited to go and desperate to stay, and Nia doesn’t know what to think at this point. She could go alone, but she’s never been off the planet. She’d barely made it out of the country, never mind the solar system. And she doesn’t have any experience with flying spaceships.

So when Kara’d offered to join her, Nia accepted before thinking things through. And she was grateful for Kara’s help, really she was. Without Kara and Brainy, her mom’s old spaceship would probably still be sitting under a tarp with no fuel and an outdated navigational system. Not the most helpful after a warning she could lose her powers if she doesn’t return to Naltor within the year.

No, Nia is grateful Kara is coming along. Her help will be invaluable, especially since Naltor has a yellow sun like Earth. But she wishes she’d thought about the implications a bit more before accepting, particularly the thought of being stuck on a tiny ship with Kara for two weeks at a time.

Usually, Nia would jump at the chance to spend time with Kara, even knowing her crush is likely to make things awkward if she can’t keep it under control. She knows how awkward it can get when a straight woman realizes another woman is crushing on her, and there is not enough room on that ship to deal with that for a month. Even if they do have their own small rooms, Nia will go crazy if she had to stare at the walls for that long. And Kara is claustrophobic, so it’s not like Nia could claim the main areas for herself either.

Unfortunately, it almost seems like Kara’s already figured out about Nia’s crush. The way she keeps asking Alex about whether Earth can afford to be without two superheroes at the same time stopped feeling like reasonable caution a long time ago. Now it just feels like an avoidance technique.

Even Alex has been a little snippy the last few times Kara asked. At least, Nia assumes she has. Each time the question comes up she tries to be somewhere else, but there have been a few pointed looks that are definitely older sister annoyance. And no matter how many times the topic comes up, Kara still hasn’t changed her mind.

“Is this everything?”

Nia jumps at the question, falling face-first into a pile of her things. Thankfully it’s the bedding and not the food crates, but it’s still not the image she’d like to present right now. How is Kara, literally the least sneaky person Nia’s ever met, able to move that silently?

Kara looks as embarrassed as Nia feels, and it takes longer than it should to untangle herself from the bedding. That might have something to do with Kara’s help, but Nia is resolutely not thinking about it right now.

“Um, yeah, this is everything,” Nia says when she’s finally back on her feet. “My mom had a few old Naltorian robes that I went ahead and packed, but they’re a bit bulky. Other than that it’s just a few outfits for the travel time.”

Hoping her blushes cool quickly, or that Kara at least assumes it’s only about her clumsiness, Nia turns back to the mess she’d made and begins to pack it back up. She really isn’t going to survive a month of this, is she?

***

Kara’s torn between using her super-speed to load the ship and taking her time. On one hand, getting out of her sooner means no more stares from Alex because Kara’s avoiding potentially uncomfortable situations. But on the other, loading faster means alone on the ship with Nia faster, and Kara’s not ready for that one yet.

Rao, why didn’t she think things through before offering to take Nia to Naltor? She’d been doing so well at avoiding any situations where she might blurt out something stupid like “I think you’re really pretty” or something equally disastrous.

She doesn’t even know if Nia likes women that way! With the vast array of human (or half-human, in Nia’s case) sexualities, Kara’s never been good at figuring that one out. She hadn’t known humans even had limits on their attraction until her senior year when everyone started to talk in hushed voices about the new teacher who happened to be gay.

And now they’ll be together on Nia’s ship for at least a month, which beats Kara’s record for keeping her mouth shut about anything by at least three weeks. On Earth she usually manages to blurt things out to Alex or James, but on the ship it’ll just be her and Nia. What’s she supposed to do then?

In the end it’s a moot point as Alex, J’onn, and Brainy all help with the loading. With five people carrying boxes, it takes no time at all before there’s nothing left but the farewells.

“You’d better keep things safe while we’re gone,” Kara tells Alex as she pulls her sister in for a hug.

They have a comm unit set up to allow some communication, but no one is entirely sure it’ll last stand up to the distance they’re going. It’s an outdated model for an outdated ship, and even when it was new it hadn’t been top of the line. They think it will reach Naltor, but the possible presence of anomalies along the route make it impossible for even Brainy to guess. Which means it’s entirely possible this will be the last time Kara can talk to her sister for a month.

Alex smiles at the teasing when she pulls back, reaching to squeeze Kara’s arm. “We’ll take care of everything, don’t worry. You just take care of yourselves. And maybe use this opportunity to actually talk about a few things, hm?”

Ducking away from yet another reminder of Alex’s opinion, Kara takes a deep breath and looks for Nia. She’s talking to J’onn and Brainy closer to the ship, and Kara heads over to join them. At least around other people Alex usually doesn’t tease her too much.

The rest of the goodbyes are quick, and before Kara quite knows it they’re out of the atmosphere and heading towards open space to engage the drives. It doesn’t take them too long, and thanks to Brainy’s updates the auto-nav will handle most of the piloting.

As the drive kicks in, Kara sits awkwardly for a moment before pushing up from her seat. “I’m, um, I’m gonna go get settled in.”

It’s not the most graceful of exits, but it works. And with the trip taking two weeks just to make planetfall, things will be a lot more comfortable if they settle in properly. Digging through suitcases for a month does not sound like a good time.

Getting things unpacked takes a few days, but Kara knows she can only stretch the activity for so long. She’s already almost said something three different times while they were preparing their meals together, and it’s been barely half a week. There is no way she’ll get out of this without making a fool of herself, but that doesn’t mean she can’t try.

Maybe if she reorganizes the pantries for a bit…

***

Putting down her book with a sigh, Nia wonders where Kara’s gotten off to now. It’s such a small ship, but somehow Kara’s managed to avoid her practically since they took off. Other than a few meals together, Nia hasn’t seen the other woman. And even at those meals Kara was withdrawn, avoiding conversation and running off as soon as they finished.

She’s debating whether to suck it up and just ask Kara if something’s going on when a loud thump echoes through the ship, followed by a smaller ‘ow.’ In an instant, Nia is up and heading towards the main areas. At least there are only so many places Kara might be.

Her heart is racing when she skids into the kitchen, taking in the sight of Kara sitting on the floor pouting, boxes of their rations scattered around her. Nothing seems broken, on Kara or their food supplies, but beyond that it takes her a moment to understand what she’s seeing.

“So, we found out how long I can store yellow sun radiation,” Kara says as Nia stares, trying to take everything in. “That’ll be useful in case I decide to shift all the pantry boxes at once on the way back.”

Brushing aside the spike of worry that comes from Kara not having powers, Nia edges carefully into the kitchen. “And why were you reorganizing the pantry?”

When Kara just shifts uncomfortably, Nia feels her stomach drop. Oh. Of course it wasn’t just her imagination, and Kara really was avoiding her. She’d tried to keep her crush hidden, but obviously she’d given something away and now Kara is afraid to tell her the attraction isn’t returned. Kara’s too nice like that, sometimes.

Well, Nia won’t be the one to make her feel bad about this. It’s her crush, her problem, and it’s not fair to have Kara spending hours trying to find something to do just to avoid her.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” The way Kara’s head snaps up at her words isn’t the most reassuring, but now that she’s decided to do this, Nia powers on. “I’ve tried to keep things under control and avoid making things awkward, but it’s obvious that it hasn’t worked, so I’m sorry. I’ll try harder, but you don’t have to rearrange the pantry just to avoid me and my silly crush.”

“Wait, you have a crush on me?”

Nia pales as Kara’s words sink in, and she realizes she’s misread the situation entirely. And managed to give away her secret anyway. That’s such a Kara move…

“We can totally forget everything about this conversation. I’ll just let you get cleaned up in here.” Making a hasty retreat sounds like the best option here, and Nia is almost out the door when she hears Kara scramble to her feet.

“But I have a crush on you!”

Silence. Nia freezes in the doorway, and Kara doesn’t say another word behind her. For long moments, Nia doesn’t know if words exist anymore. Let alone the right words.

When her brain kicks back in, Nia turns slowly back to Kara. She’s strangely thankful to see Kara looks as flustered as she does. At least she’s not alone. In more ways than one, she realizes.

“So, I have a crush on you, and you have a crush on me?” Kara’s nod gives Nia the courage to continue. “And we were both trying to hide our crushes?” Another nod. “And that’s why you’ve been avoiding me, not because you realized I have a crush on you and it made you uncomfortable.”

“I wish I’d realized you had a crush on me, it’s been so boring trying to find things I can do on my own. There are only so many ways you can organize your stuff when you’re on bare essentials.” Kara’s embarrassment is fading, and Nia swallows hard when she steps closer. “But now we know.”

“Now we know,” Nia echoes, waiting to see what Kara will do next.

Maybe being stuck on this ship for two weeks won’t be such a bad thing after all.

#supergirl #supergirl fic #superdreamer #superdreamer fic #kara x nia #prompt fill

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lordseochangbin · 5 years ago

Text

i’ll protect you

hitman!changbin au w babygirl series <3

word count: 4.2k

a/n: thank you for 1.4k !! i hope you guys enjoy this

warning: cringe superM reference,, remember all work is fiction :)

the light was still red and the timewatch in front of gave 10 seconds to cross. but that didn’t stop the car from coming at you with full speed. it felt almost blissful, like someone knocked the wind out of you, but it didn’t hurt. the way the driver cursed in court, saying he would end your life for all the charges you brought upon him and his family. the dark past, the stitches and bruises that painted your skin remained forever. this was something that would remain in your darkest dreams, an occurrence reminding you of the event that changed your life.

the man’s words remain imprinted in your head, “i’ll get you back for my money”

“Y/N YOU HAVE WORK IN AN HOUR WAKE UPPP”

you groaned as your friend pulled the comforter away from your legs, goosebumps covering your skin from the cold air.

“stop it!!” you laughed, trying to grab the sheets again

“y/n, you take forever to get ready! it’s best if you hop in the shower instead of being late again. unless you don’t want to here news about your ‘husband’”

“like i said, nora’s dad is not my husband. i dont even know who he is” you replied

your friend shot you a curious look, “don’t ask like you’re not secretly wishing he showed up for the parent-teacher conferences”

“im not!! nora just sees me as a mother-like figure” you said, having to reassurance yourself of the statement in the process

you winced at your friend, who threw a towel at you and pointed to the bathroom door with the shower already on. “right..now go while we make breakfast”

you smiled at the thought of breakfast before running to your friends and giving them a hug “thank you, and thank you! i shall shower” you winked before running to the steamy room.

≿————-　❈　————-≾

“i swear to god if that fucking teacher is late to your class again i will actually have a one-on-one talk with her” changbin cursed, getting on one knee to put a warm black-leather jacket on his daughter

“daddy! no curse words, we’ve been over this!!” nora exclaimed, throwing her dad a soft punch on the shoulder

changbin threw a hand on the spot, feigning hurt. “oh no! my princess got me!” he chuckled

nora sat down beside her father, “please don’t yell at my teacher, she’s my best friend. she could make a nice wife too...” she winked

changbin scoffed. a teacher? best friends with my daughter? changbin dismissed nora’s mention of a wife as he tucked the jacket, securing its warmth, and gave nora a peck on the forehead. “your only best friend is me, and i don’t plan on sharing.”

nora rolled her eyes as she stomped on changbin’s foot, “well get used to it!”

“ah! feisty!!”

“i only learn from the best!!!” she said before running down the hallway.

changbin laughed as he watched her run down the hall, knowing he wouldn’t hear enough of this mysterious teacher as her pink dress flowed under the black leather jacket. she looked like one of the boys, and she definitely acted like one of them. he took a deep breath, a wave of exhaustion running through him from last night’s business, before running after his little princess

“nora!!”

≿————-　❈　————-≾

the second changbin parked his car in front of the school, nora was already out the door. “love you dad!” she sent him a flying kiss before running up the stairs to the school’s entrance.

“love you too” he whispered to himself before driving off.

changbin’s life was no easier than yours, he constantly hustled at the car garage to make money. being an only father to a girl who had the attitude of a queen, he ensured nora was happy and was able to have all the experiences a child could live for. daily appointments at the shop meant he came home late, nora being dropped off by a school friend after school.

little did he know it was you behind nora’s happiness all along. always helping her out with homework and making sure she came home safe. by the time changbin was home nora was sound asleep, and by morning he would have already forgotten to ask how she got there.

when changbin pulled his jet black mercedes into the shop, a sensor scanned his perimeter before a secret door could open. he pulled into the lot inside before stepping out.

“a new appointment today changbin” bang chan said, throwing a gun for changbin to catch. this was the 3racha “car garage”, and if you’re wondering ‘who is 3racha?’, then maybe it’s better if you paid attention to the news. it was almost every week the words “3racha” met the headlines, they were one of the most popular hitman organizations. cb97, spearb, and j.one were their names.

“who is it this time?” changbin said, loading his gun and carelessly throwing it to the backseat.

“it’s a female in her 20s. client claims he stole her money, you think you can get on this one changbin?” jisung said, his eyes glued to the computer screen in front of him as he tried to find more details on the client’s request

“it’s always about money, huh?” changbin sighed

“isn’t that how we got here?” chan asked, throwing a wad of cash to changbin’s chest.

“now listen changbin, don't give me any of that ‘oh, she has a baby bullshit anymore’, okay? i dont understand why you’ve softened up lately with your requests, but don’t like our person go like last time- or i’m handing you off to the police”

jisung got up from his seat, “chan, jesus calm down”

chan turned around, grabbing changbin by the collar. “what do you mean calm down? you know what he did last time?! he almost got us caught!”

changbin grabbed chan’s wrist, easily shoving him to the side and taking a moment to relieve himself of the adrenaline and steaming blood that shot up his veins seconds ago.

“look chan, i’ll do it okay?” changbin dully said

“you don’t mind, right hyung?” jisung got up to help chan who remained on the floor.

“no, i dont mind.”

“‘just another day in the business’” changbin said under his breath

≿————-　❈　————-≾

you arrived at the school early, planning out your lesson and making yourself a cup of coffee as a reward for “always” being prepared. the bell rang, students rushing to the classroom filled with excitement. “Y/N!!!” nora said, running into your arms for a big hug.

“nora!! cute outfit, lovebug!” you complimented

the girl grabbed the ends of her dress, doing a little twirl for you before giggling in joy. “daddy picked it for me!”

you raised an eyebrow at the price tag, still hanging off the crook of her neck before grabbing a scissor

“looks like your ‘daddy’ forgot to cut the price tag as well”

god, what kind of father forgets to cut the price tag? sometimes you could only wonder what selfish hooligan took care of nora. she was well disciplined and had an amazing personality. you fell in love with the girl in an instant, hanging out with her on a daily basis and dropping her off at home. sometimes you’d wait until she walked inside, staying a few hours in the empty parking lot until you saw the all-to-familiar black mercedes arrive at 12 sharp. you never found yourself interested in the man inside

at pulled nora in for a hug, making a few jealous students join in as well. “we love you ms.y/n!”

“thank you” you giggled along as the whole class got together for a huddle.

≿————-　❈　————-≾

the last bell dismissed all the kids, nora joining the crowd basically dragging her outside to the spot where everyone waited for their parents.

you,on the other hand, decided to get into the habit of preparing for tomorrow’s class the day before- just to make it easy on yourself. this took a few minutes as you took out lesson plans and paperwork, humming to an superm song under your breath while your hands made weird gestures to the beat, sometimes you just couldn’t help the inner dancing queen inside you.

“god… what a cringey sight” changbin said, watching you through his binoculars.

changbin stood on the building next to the school, not even recognizing the area as his focus was on you. he scratched the crook of his neck as he contemplated on whether he could watch you any longer or just go for it right then and there inside of the school classroom because he couldn’t watch you ruining his favorite superm song any longer.

before you knew it, changbin was right next to the window, placing a hearing device on the wall to hear what you might’ve been saying inside. maybe she’s dancing to distract others -changbin thought to himself- maybe inside she’s discussing mafia plans, or discussing how to rob the nearest bank, or maybe she’s…

“I DON'T EVEN CARE, 여긴 우릴 태울 stage, LEFT TO THE RIGHT, WE GON MAKE IT-MAKE IT BANGGGG” (a/n: >superm-jopping< ty genius lyrics :D)

“aw fuck!” changbin cursed, throwing his headphones at the sound. his nose scrunched up at the screeching he heard earlier, mentally face-palming himself for even thinking you may have been someone suspicious, but no-you were just a very.. very horrible singer.

why were you even being targeted by a client? changbin thought back to his recent nights, where the girls were either associated with crimes or drug lords

but you seemed like a regular woman, just someone who was going about in their daily life. changbin picked up his equipment and walked away, the school just seemed like a terrible place to begin with.

“hey jisung, you want this done this week?” changbin asked into the phone

“no- i want this done tonight” chan replied in a stern tone

changbin rolled his eyes at chan’s sudden response, hanging up seconds later to avoid any further argument

≿————-　❈　————-≾

after your superm marathon, you grabbed your bag and locked the door. the school seemed dead silent, aside from an unfamiliar sound. you followed the small whimpers before finding yourself outside, where nora was hiding in the corner. “nora! baby, what are you doing here?” you said, taking her in for a hug

“i-i can’t find my daddy” she sobbed into your shoulder, her hand wiping her tears as tried to regain her breath

“aw..aw no love! you should’ve told me” you said, holding her hands in yours as you straightened out her puffy pink dress

“it’s okay, daddy said princesses like me don’t need others” she whispered in the midst of tears

you placed a finger under her chin, making contact with her as you tried to cheer her up “did your dad say this? then maybe you should know, princesses love milkshakes right?”

“milkshakes?! princess nora loves milkshakes!!” nora exclaimed in excitement, her grasp on your hand tightening as if to say ‘take me, i don't want to be lonely any longer’, and you listened, guiding her to your car.

≿————-　❈　————-≾

it was about five pm when you arrived at nora’s front porch, “and here we are princess nora” you said, putting the shift on park before getting out to open her door.

once you got to the passenger’s side you noticed nora didn’t remove her seatbelt, nor did she grab her bag. “nora… aren’t you gonna go inside”

nora silently turned her head to you, a pitiful was readable as she whispered “there’s no one inside”

“your dad isn’t inside..?”

nora shook her head no, and you thought about all the times you dropped her off at home and waited. “nora, has he even been home?”

“in the mornings” she shrugged

your body stiffened a little as you pitied the girl in front of you. sometimes nora’s responsible qualities amazed you, in fact, you could even argue that she was more responsible than you. it wasn’t right though, to leave her to an empty house like this. you shot her a quick smile, “then how about we stay at my house since your dad won't be home till midnight?”

“sounds good,” she said, giving you a thumbs-up with both hands. her eyes wrinkled when she laughed and you couldn’t tell if it was because she tried so hard to laugh each time or if it was because she was genuinely happy.

you hopped in the car before your phone could ring inside your call. “god, where is my phone” you said to yourself before nora could find it on the floor.

“here!” she said, handing you the device before you could answer

“what..both of you guys won't be home..?ahh okay, working late… okay okay i’ll leave dinner” you said throughout the conversation before hanging up

“looks like it’s just you and me nora” you said, backing up from the parking lot… not expecting the night to come.

≿————-　❈　————-≾

the clock read eleven pm, and by now nora was in your room sound asleep. you left the bedroom door closed to lock any noise, your feet propped on the coffee table in front of you as you settled on the couch. a book in your hands, the sound of nothing in your surroundings make you feel at peace.

it was only until you heard the noise of your doorknob jiggling. god, your roommate was probably struggling again-you thought. chuckling softly to prevent any noise you slouched on the couch, hiding your head to surprise her.

the door slowly opened, a creaky noise following it as you heard soft footsteps enter the room. you stayed in your place, wanted to quietly surprise her since nora was sleeping. you felt that footsteps stop however, a perfect chance for you to get up.

“boo!” you exclaimed with a smile on your face. your smile slowly faded as you stared at the man ahead of you, your eyes almost popping at the sight of the man with a facemask and a gun in his hand. in any other situation, if your life isn't at stake, you would’ve laughed as horror movies never spooked you and your vivid dreams held much worse. this, this was real. you jumped over the couch, standing in front of your bedroom door.

“who are you?! take anything, you can take anything fuck just take anything please, please!”

the man stepped closer, making your body shiver in fear as he placed a finger on your cheek. a finger slipped between your lips making your heartbeat increase. almost out of your chest. your fingers ached. your adrenaline pumped. your instinct had so many plans, grab the vase and knock him out. grab his wrist and twist it. kick him in the crouch. but you knew this wasn’t like the dreams, you were helpless. you gave into his touch and your legs gave up. falling onto your knees, your lips trembled at the sight dawned over you.

“why are you protecting this door? what’s inside?” the muffled voice questioned

“n-nothing… nothing” you stuttered as he placed the gun to your head

“what’s inside?” he repeated in a loud voice that made you want to surrender right then and there, but you knew that wasn’t right

you took a deep breath to regain any sense of stability before replying, “one of my students, shes of a young age please- please don’t harm her” you said, “ i’ll do anything you want! please, please don’t go inside”

“fuck it” the man cursed before opening the door behind you. you gasped in shock to see nora standing in the middle of the room, her hand covering her face from the gun pointing at her.

you got up in an instant, taking to step to grab the glass vase before nora could speak

“d-daddy?” she said, “what are you doing here?” her words came out in a frightened, as if she didn’t want to believe this man was her father

“nora?!” the man threw off his mask and ran to the girl, “are you okay? are you hurt?” the man turned around, pointing the gun directly at you before you could scream in shock

“what the hell are you doing with my daughter?!” he exclaimed

“daddy no please! she’s my friend!! she’s helping me!!!” nora said, hugging changbin’s right leg and jumping in an attempt to grab the weapon in his hand

“don’t shoot!! dont!!” changbin’s heart was pumping out of his chest, his own daughters words hitting him hard as he dropped his gun. his hand went straight to his forehead as he tried to figure out the situation in hand.

“daddy… why do you have a gun?” nora asked in shaky voice

changbin fell to this knees, pulling nora in for a hug. “i’m so sorry baby, i’m sorry you had to see daddy like that”

nora pushed him away however, running to you in a heartbeat. “don’t harm y/n! she’s my best friend! i wont leave her!”

changbin gulped at the sudden request, looking around in uncertainty. this all passed by you like a dream however, and you couldn’t get yourself to believe what was happening.

“nora, stop” you said, picking the girl up into your arms. “is this man really your father?” you asked her, as changbin stared at the floor

nora simply couldn't respond though, wrapped two hands around you and sobbing into your shoulder for the second time that day.

≿————-　❈　————-≾

“so you’re telling me.. someone wants to kill me?” you asked, a scoff leaving your lips- as if things could get worse

“uhh… essentially” jisung replied hesitantly. you stared at nora in your arms, eyelids shut but you could still see her eyes moving around in fright.

chan and changbin stood in the opposite sides of the room, chan’s face buried in his palms as he tried to hide his sudden anger at changbin. yes, changbin failed his mission again. yes, changbin’s weak spot was targeted again-yet unintentionally. but this wasn’t about the mission, this was his best friend here. he was conflicted between his daughter and his own job-and chan wanted to be the last person to get in the way.

“changbin, lets just give up this mission” chan said, looking over to the boy who simply stared at the ground

give up on the mission??- you thought. to be honest, you didn’t know what you were doing here, in a room with three hitman. any sane person would’ve ran, but you somehow registered that as long as nora was with you- they wouldn’t hurt you. holding her tightly to your chest, you listened to the discussion among the three men before realizing what they were talking about.

“hold on, hold on.. if someone paid for you guys to kill me and you guys say you just ‘cant’, then wont they just find someone else?” you asked, your heartbeat increasing at how lucky you were to have been with your murderer's daughter, and chances of it happening again being low.

“i… i mean, yes?” jisung said in an uncertain voice. chan and changbin looked at the youngest with a look as if to say ‘what the hell are you doing?’

“so.. you three are just gonna leave me to be murdered by someone else” you said in the most calmest voice you could possibly muster up. in fact, it was so calm that the three boys turned to you in surprise, watching the way you clutched onto nora with such comfort. changbin looked away but the other two couldn’t help but notice how much of a connection you had with nora.

“i won’t let it happen” chan said, looking at changbin.

you turned to chan in surprise of his sudden regard, “you… you won't?”

“changbin, she has obviously been taking good care of nora. if you know what’s best for her, then you’ll protect her. we’ll protect her”

changbin looked away from you this whole time, not wanting to see nora in the hands of another individual. in fact, it just reminded him of the terrible parent he was.

jisung nodded in agreement however, “yeah changbin, eventually you’re going to need some help with parenting and.. you like nora, right y/n?”

you sighed as they asked the obvious, your hands running through nora’s jet black locks. “of course i do”

changbin looked right at you when you responded, his eyes drilling into yours as he watched the way you hugged the girl in your hands. “then…” he started, “let’s find out who your client is. and end him”

≿————-　❈　————-≾

you arrived at the same home you found yourself dropping off nora every night. this time it was different though, you got to sleep inside. you carried nora in your hands as changbin guided you to the master bedroom and you placed the girl in the middle of the bed.

“is it fine if i sleep on the floor?” changbin asked, his hands anxiously rubbing his sides

“you’re asking me to sleep in the same room as the guy that tried to murder me less than a few hours ago?”

“look i’m sor-”

“the floor looks uncomfortable. i don’t mind if you sleep on the bed” you said, tugging the warm comforter and facing your back towards him. you felt the mattress carry extra weight as changbin joined, sitting on the other side of nora

he was quick to turn off the nightlight behind him, a groan escaping his lips as he adjusted to the minimal space in his own bed

“changbin?” you whispered

you heard a few ruffles from the bed before he could reply, “yes?”

“a-are you okay? you know.. with the whole thing earlier?”

changbin sighed before replying, sitting up on the bed as he grabbed nora’s hand. “shouldn’t i be asking you that?”

you rested your head on your elbow, looking up at his dark figure before he could turn on the night light behind him. he looked straight ahead of him, his large fingers playing with the little girls hand before he could turn to you

“i don’t know.. i mean sometimes i have these awful dreams at night of just me.. screaming at nothing? i don’t know what it is but it just felt weird.. i felt like i could trust you in someway. it just didn’t feel as scary. i didn’t feel like i had to scream for help or something”

with the light on and your attention on him you finally got a look at changbin. the boy in the black tee, sleeves hugging his arms filled with tattoos printing his skin in colors of red and blue. black vans and ripped jeans that covered the pink socks underneath. these socks were probably picked out by nora, you thought. she loved the color pink.

changbin caught your eye as you stared at his figure before clearing his throat. “well, i definitely had to scream for help. the way you ruined jopping for me… i honestly cannot explain”

you choked on your breath, laughing as you remembered the way you sang to the top of your lungs. “you were there for that?!”

“it’s not even funny. you seriously ruined that song for me”

you slapped his shoulder with your free hand, “stop it, you know you want an encore”

“y/n open that pretty mouth of yours and i swear i will kick you out of this house”

“‘pretty mouth, huh?’”

changbin scoffed, looking the other way as his cheeks turned a shade of pink.

“well, anyways. i just want you to know that nora is really intelligent and fun to be around with. she seriously deserves the world”

“does she?” he asked, his other hand reaching out to grab yours and giving it a squeeze. “why don’t you help me give it to her?”

“what do you mean?”

“y/n, you seem stupid as hell but i seriously think we could get along. i don’t know what it is but i already like you” changbin confessed, making you smile as your fingers intertwined with his

“god, what am i gonna tell people when they ask me if i’d die for you” you laughed, throwing your head back as you realized how dumb you were. you closed your eyes, settling into the comforter in ease, you dreams vanishing away with the comfort of two others

≿————-　❈　————-≾

it was usual for you to wake up in the middle of your sleep, so when you found yourself sipping coffee in the middle of changbin’s living room it was no surprise. but what did surprise you was the buff arms that wrapped around your waist.

“hey, y/n” changbin’s raspy voice whispered into your ear, “what are you doing in the middle of the night?”

“just thinking” you replied, warming your hands with the cup of coffee as changbin laid his chin on your shoulder

“...about?”

“about this.. who is this guy? i’m scared changbin, i’m scared to go to work, i don’t know who this guy could be” your lips formed a somewhat whimper sound making changbin worry as he now stood in front of you.

“y/n, look” he said, grabbing your shoulders. “i don’t know who this guy is either, but i’m sure he doesn’t have the ability to hear your talent for singing, so you wont have to worry”

you rolled your eyes at his unexpected comment before he could continue, “and i just want you to know that i’m here for you,okay? i’m gonna protect you. not just for nora, i love you y/n” changbin said, placing a kiss on your forehead. his grip on your shoulders softened as he slowly placed a kiss on your cheek, and next on your lips.

you pecked his lips one last time before lying your head on his shoulder, “i love you too”

“i love you three!!” nora exclaimed, running over and joining the hug party. “i told you she’d make a nice wife” she said, wiggling her eyebrows at changbin

“just wait till you hear a voice nora, sounds of an angel” he remarked with a smirk, earning a stomp on his toes from you

“ouch!! feisty!” changbin replied

“i only learn from the best!” nora giggled.

#ok i finished it whew #im honestly soft for anything changbin does hmm #changbin w a babygirl is so soft i want him to hold a baby PLEASE #changbin #straykidschangbin #seochangbin #changbin x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids changbin #seo changbin fluff #changbin fluff #stray kids fluff #skz fluff

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