#it was so intense i was at the edge of my seat! even contemplated skipping convo between levi and erwin to see how it's going to end

[fanmoose12]

Levi ignored the formal greetings and salutes of the soldiers he passed as he made his way through the barracks. His mind was focused on one thing and one thing only. He had to get to the infirmary.

Apparently, Hange had decided to start her experiments bright and early that day. So early that the sun had barely begun to rise. Not long after, a titan's arm broke free from its restraints and swung at Hange while her back was facing away. With no time to react, the full force of the attack had her instantly flying through the air and only stopping when her body met a wall. Levi didn't comprehend much of the details after that. He simply threw on his uniform as is, not bothering a second glance in the mirror.

He bit back a chill as he entered the courtyard, not knowing whether it was from the sudden cold winter air or from his own nerves. It was only then that he realized he had left without throwing on a coat.

When he entered the infirmary, he immediately noticed a small group of people huddled together. Hange's squad, Mike, Nanaba, and Erwin along with a nurse Levi didn't recognize. They all spoke in hushed whispers and, as if on cue, all turned to look at him. His pace suddenly slowed, an uncomfortable feeling settled in the pit of his stomach at their ominous gazes. He hesitated to approach.

After a moment, Erwin resumed speaking to the nurse and exchanged a few more words before she finally walked away. Erwin then dismissed the rest of the group as they shuffled away, avoiding eye contact as they passed Levi.

Levi swallowed the lump that formed in his throat and approached Erwin. "How's Hange?" He asked, hoping the tremor in his voice wasn't obvious.

"Levi," Erwin began, his voice stern and his jaw tight. "How long have you known about Hange's condition?"

"Just this morning." He answered.

Erwin's brow furrowed and Levi could see the wrinkles in his face. "I will ask again. How long have you known about Hange's condition?"

The question was puzzling. What kind of answer was Erwin looking for? Levi felt like a child being chastised. He was coming in blind to this whole situation, only knowing the information that Moblit had told him earlier.

"Moblit came by my room about twenty minutes ago and told me about the accident. I came as fast as I could."

Erwin's eyes stared intently at Levi, as if he was trying to look through him instead of at him. It was then that Levi noticed the small beads of sweat lining his forehead.

Levi's heart rate quickened. Something wasn't right. "Erwin, what the hell is going on?"

What was Erwin trying to get out of him? What did he know that Levi didn't? Was Hange sick? Surely he would've noticed, right? Then again, they hadn't seen much of each other recently. Hange had been busy testing a new theory involving the evaporation of titan blood and Levi had been assigned to oversee the development of the new training grounds.

She and Levi had grown close. Immensely close. Too close for Levi's comfort sometimes. They had become a bonded pair in all forms; emotionally, physically, and mentally. They knew each other's strengths and short-comings, their pet peeves and bad habits, their fears and hopes, the way each other tasted and smelled, how their bodies felt intertwined, the rhythm of each other's heartbeats. Hange had become the one thing Levi never wanted; someone to lose.

As if Erwin could sense his inner turmoil, his shoulders dropped and his eyes relaxed. "You really don't know, do you?"

"Nobody's told me a damn thing."

Erwin released a tired sigh. "Hange is alive but she suffered a concussion. The nurse wants to keep her here for a few days to monitor her once she wakes up."

"How long has she been unconscious?"

"I'm not sure but this could have been much worse. In more ways than you realize."

Levi could feel his frustration reaching its peak. "Why not just come out and tell me whatever the hell it is you're hiding?"

Erwin just shook his head. "It's not for me to tell. We'll continue this at a later time. You may see her if you'd like."

Levi decided not to further the discussion and made his way towards the room. Once his hand had reached the doorknob, he heard Erwin's voice behind him. "Levi, once you're finished, meet me in my office. We have much to discuss."

Levi's hand tightened around the doorknob. He didn't like being left in the dark but he was humanity's strongest, surely he could handle whatever news Erwin was refusing to disclose.

He shook the thought from his mind, wanting to be solely focused on Hange. He readied himself for the sight and pushed open the door.

Hange appeared natural as she slept in the hospital bed before him. Her expression was peaceful with the usual stress lines in her face relaxed. Her glasses rested on a table next to the bed with her uniform and winter coat thrown over a wooden chair. She had been changed into a hospital gown with a white bandage wrapped around her head.

"That was an extreme stunt to pull just to get some sleep don't you think, four eyes?" Levi mused.

He examined the bandage and noticed a minimal amount of blood from a scrape on the side of her head. He wasn't sure what the worry was about. Concussions were a normal injury for most soldiers, especially new recruits who were practicing with their ODM gear.

Still, Erwin had mentioned her "condition" which meant there was something Levi was missing, something he wasn't seeing.

"Sorry about this, Hange." He said as he grabbed the blanket on top of her and tossed it to the side.

Before the blanket had even touched the ground, Levi had stumbled away from Hange's bedside until his back was forced against the wall. His heart beat hard against his chest, he struggled to catch his breath and felt as if he was suffocating, his knees trembled beneath him, and his mind could not comprehend the sight before him.

Levi looked around the room as if an explanation would appear before him. He couldn't bring himself to look at her again. He was almost thankful that she was asleep.

The sight of her winter coat suddenly drew his attention. Like most things, Hange was too engrossed in her research and often careless when it came to her own health. Levi would often find her outside in the snow, watching over her precious titans, wearing nothing more than her usual brown jacket. She never bundled herself properly and always claimed she felt fine despite the obvious signs of her red nose, chapped lips, chattering teeth, and shivering body. And as expected, Levi would be the one to have to care for her when she fell ill.

Although, come to think of it, this was the first year that Hange had actually been adamant about wearing her coat. Each time Levi saw her, she had it buttoned around her, refusing to take it off even when indoors. And if he thought about it further, he realized that it always looked a size too big for her.

The realization suddenly came crashing on him as all the pieces fell into place. The air felt as if it had been knocked out of him and his head was spinning. If it weren't for the wall supporting him, he's sure he would have collapsed.

It didn't feel real. It couldn't be real.

It was stupid, he knew, the evidence was right in front of him but he just had to confirm it for himself. He looked towards her still sleeping face and then very slowly trailed his eyes down her body until he was staring at a small bump on her torso.

He steadied his knees and pushed himself away from the wall. It felt like an eternity before he was finally able to move his legs and reach her bed side. With a shaky hand and a deep ragged breath, he outstretched his arm until it rested gently on her swollen abdomen. He ignored the water stinging the corner of his eyes and forcefully blinked the sensation away.

It was as if his mind was not his own as he began to slowly stroke small circles on top of her belly. As he was getting used to the feeling, he felt a sudden pressure hit against his head. He immediately froze his movements and waited. A few seconds passed and there it was again, a small push to his hand.

He released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and could feel his lips curve into a smile. He was feeling a kick. The being inside of Hange was making it self known to him.

He became overwhelmed with an abundance of conflicting emotions bombarding him all at once. He had so many thoughts, questions, ideas, fears. At that moment all he could do was reach for her hand and relish in the comfort of her warmth beneath his palm. He needed her here with him.

And then a new realization chilled him to his core.

She would eventually awaken...wouldn't she?

"Hange." He whispered desperately. "Please, wake up."

omg, you got me so worried!! i thought hange lost the baby, but whew! i'm so glad the baby is alright! and your writing is top notch! if you ever think of posting it and maybe adding a second part...... hmu?

[squiddybeifong]

Can I ask for the batsiblings reaction to Damian pacing so much he wore a hole in the floor? Doesn't have to be a fics, maybe headcanons?

Sorry for the rather long wait. Kinda wanted to make this a fic

Here's the floor pacing fic

On Ao3 here

--

Alfred hadn’t outwardly reacted to Damian’s obvious lie as to why he had paced the floorboards uneven, but the butler absolutely took action for amending the tripping hazard in the boy’s room. With the floor repairman on the line and a measuring tape in hand nothing was amiss, of course.

Dick had already kept him up-to-date with the gossip about the two Titan birds, so Alfred hadn’t been surprised whatsoever. His position in the family meant that he’d watched the awkward budding romances of most everyone who’d called the Manor home. Damian being frustrated at his feelings for a teammate was nothing compared to a (very grown) Bruce being moody after Selina rebuffed his kiss while ‘on the clock’ or Dick’s increasingly creative attempts at sneaking around with Kori before the ‘no dating metahumans or aliens’ rule had been lifted. Honestly, watching the pun-laden flirting that Steph ladled out to both Tim and Cass on a near daily basis was more awkward than his youngest ward taking his repressed emotions out on the floors.

Unfortunately for Damian, the butler arranged for the floor repairman to show up during the day. Most notably, the repairman arrived at exactly the specified 1:35 p.m., not wanting to be late when called upon to fix anything belonging to Bruce Wayne.

Why Robin had believed that (like everyone else in Gotham) this worker would be fashionably late, he didn’t know. What Damian did know was that he hadn’t heard Grayson open the door. Nor had he heard his brother head up with Alfred and the repairman into his room. And he especially didn’t hear as Alfred slyly mentioned that he believed Dick’s gossip was coming to a head, if the worn path in the floor meant anything.

No, Damian heard none of it. Not when he was busy brushing BatCow and making sure that every square inch of the barn was properly ventilated so she couldn’t possibly overheat in the approaching summer weather. So when the youngest Bat stalked into the Manor, he’d been all but ambushed.

It didn’t take a detective to realize why he’d been pacing so much. Even without Alfred’s confirmation, it was unlike Damian to avoid going back to the Titans early if he could help it. Batman hadn’t looked up when Robin had elected to stay another week when they were in the BatCave, but his siblings sure had. And while Bruce didn’t outwardly ponder about how intense things had to be for Damian to go out of his way to avoid a certain someone, this new information had Dick positively enchanted at the prospect of his baby brother being in love.

“I’m not in love with Raven,” Damian hissed out.

Jason snickered as he reclined in his seat, his face full of mirth at the flustered crack in Damian’s voice. Cass was sitting upside down with her legs resting on the couch’s back, her smile wide as she took in her youngest brother’s irritated, embarrassed body language (nevermind the barest hint of an actual blush on his face when vehemently denying any feelings he had towards his fellow Titan).

Babs’ smile was wide and cheerful as she pointed out, “Who said anything about Raven?” Duke perked up from his spot next to Cass, immediately adding on, “Yeah, Dami. We thought you were just falling for her?”

Steph snorted, “Falling over those footprints in the floor, more like it.”

Tim laughed behind his gulp of his coffee, sleepily (and loudly) drawling out to the blonde, “A Robin and his Raven. Guess you can say they’re a real pair of lovebirds, huh?”

Damian glared at them all, fighting the urge to pinch between his eyes. Why were all the Bats at the Manor? Shouldn’t they be on patrol instead of bothering him?

Jason clicked his tongue and rested his arms on the table. He met Dick’s gaze, saw the way his older brother’s eyes brightened up with mischief and scratched at the streak of white in his hair. Deciding that messing with Damian was by far the most fun he’d have in the Manor that morning, Jason asked, “So, Lil’ D… What’re you gonna get your girlfriend? Can’t come back empty handed.”

“She’s not my--”

Babs interrupted him, nudging Tim with her elbow, “Do not tell me he wasn’t planning on getting her anything.”

Steph lazily rested on the chair’s edge. The blonde leaned over to rest against Jason’s shoulder, her fist pressed to her face. She gnawed on the inside of her cheek; it wasn’t likely she’d be much use for knowing how Raven would want to be wooed. She had heard of her but she had yet to actually meet Damian’s mystery crush, after all. She let out a hum, “What does Raven like? It’s gotta be something personal!”

Damian clicked his tongue as his siblings were suddenly oh so chatty at Spoiler’s suggestion, their unwanted ideas filling the room.

“What if he paints her something?”

“Doesn’t she like old books? Maybe one of those first editions that Alfred was thinking about donating last year?”

“Wait a sec-- Dick, isn’t she goth? B did get that set of obsidian jewelry at the last gala.”

“Hell, if we’re going that route I’m sure Selina has some nice rings somewhere--”

“Maybe something that isn’t stolen, Tim.”

“Just be honest with her.”

The room went quiet at Cass’ simple instruction. Still in her Orphan suit from her early morning patrols and reclining in her inverted spot on the couch, the brunette somehow kept a serious face as she stared at Damian upside down.

Seeing that no one was going to add-on to her suggestion, Cass blew some of her bangs out of her face and shrugged, “You like her for a reason.”

Brown eyes slyly glanced around the room, gratefully falling on Babs as she piped up, “Cass is right. I really don’t think Damian of all people would fall for someone who’s all about dating mind-games.”

Ignoring Damian’s exasperated lie of “I haven’t fallen for her!” in the background, Steph slumped down on the couch next to Duke. Her face was contemplative, “Then maybe we should invite her here?”

Dick let out an excited laugh the same time Tim clapped his hands and grinned at their resident computer whiz, “Babs could absolutely get her up to speed on patrolling Gotham for a bit, right?”

The redhead looked excited at the idea. Pushing her glasses further up her nose before they fell, Babs teasingly asked, “What is it about Gotham and bird-based superheroes?”

Duke shrugged, a hand cradling his chin in thought. “Not sure, but Dami obviously won’t confess if we’re not around to kick him into doing it.”

Jason clicked his tongue at the possibility of the youngest Bat listening to them and raised a brow Dick’s way, “Any chance at all that she’ll make the first move?”

Irritated at the topic, Damian turned on his heel and retreated to the kitchen. Ignoring the chorus of “C’mon, Dami” behind him (and planning on fighting Todd later for the childish boos that the antihero was aiming at his back), Robin set about grabbing some snacks for his pets when he heard two sets of footsteps approach.

He bit back a groan as Dick practically skipped into the room, Cass on his heels. “What now?”

Nightwing let out a laugh at his brother’s sneer, “You do know that we’re only trying to help, right?” He took a few pears from the fridge and handed them to Damian, knowing that they were BatCow’s favorite. Hearing as Cass opened the cabinet doors to find where the rawhide bones and cat treats were stored, Dick pressed on, “I know she already knows me but it might be easier introducing everyone as a segue into talking to her about other things…”

Cass let out a quiet snort at his suggestion. She shook her head and offered a better idea, “Alfred first.”

Dick tilted his head, nodding in agreement a moment later. He ignored the violent way Damian was cutting up the pears and said, “That’ll probably be for the best. Living with the Titans is one thing; we gotta ease her into our particular brand of madness.”

Tossing aside the stems and peeled off stickers, Damian sulked, “None of this is necessary.”

Cass hid her smile with her hand. Dick hummed out, “You don’t want your girlfriend to meet your family?”

“She won’t be my--” Damian couldn’t say the potential title just yet. He clicked his tongue, “Just because you all think I have feelings for her doesn’t mean she’ll reciprocate.”

The older two visibly paused at his words.

Her head tilting in concern, brown eyes studied Robin for a moment. Damian glared at Cass but she ignored him. Dick leaned against the wall, the worried furrow in his brow betraying his nonchalant stance. He spoke out the obvious, “Do you really think she’s not interested?”

“She thinks I’ve been avoiding her--”

Cass shrugged, “You have.”

Damian continued as if he hadn’t heard her, “--so I doubt any feelings she may have towards me are positive right now.”

Dick let out a hum, “You didn’t answer the question.”

Ophan’s suit somehow didn’t shine in the kitchen’s fluorescent light as she crossed her arms, “Yes or no?”

Damian bit the inside of his cheek. It was quiet in the kitchen for a moment as he thought over all the moments he and Raven had shared, the comfortable quiet pauses between crimefighting, training, and avoiding their teammates’ noise. She never seemed to dislike his company, but she was stoic enough that he could never tell if her heart leaped into her throat whenever she noticed that they were alone.

He suppressed a jump as Cass entered his personal space.

Olive eyes were reluctant as she poked his cheek. “You’re not stupid,” She figured it was progress when he didn’t try to swat her hand away, but she couldn’t keep the beam off her face at the boy’s blush. A hint of smugness crept into her voice, “So she is?”

“I don’t know.”

Cass looked to the Manor’s main entrance, knowing that in half a week’s time the entire structure would be full of lights, flowers and who knew what else B’s planners would bring. A spring gala with flowers and enough hidden corners for a pair to get lost in the crowd.

In other terms: the perfect setting for a first date.

She met Dick’s gaze and grinned at the knowing look on his face. His hair nearly fell out of its bun as he let out a whoop, wrapping an arm around Damian. Thoughts of finding Raven a gala-ready dress (and maybe a matching suit) in mind, Dick couldn’t keep the excitement out of his movements.

Ignoring the aggravated yet cautiously hopeful way Damian shrugged off his brother’s arm, Cass clasped her hands in front of her chest. “Only one way to find out.”

[dramaqueeenamby]

𝐑𝐞𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬 ♦︎ 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐷𝑎𝑟𝑘𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔

Summary: He’d searched for centuries to find the sun summoner. What he never expected was for someone to uncover the sun within him. In which the darkling finds himself on a journey with a powerful Grisha who may just uncover the humanity trapped within.

A/N: I am terrible with updating regularly, but here is the second part! If you're actually interested in this hodgepodge of a story, I've updated six parts/chapters on ArchiveOFOurOwn.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OC and the non-canon parts.

Words: 2.8K // Pairings: The Darkling x OC // Warnings: None, yet.

Functions weren’t Milena’s thing. To be honest, any type of public outing ranked on the not so pleasurable side of the scale. And it wasn’t due to introversion or shyness but rather discomfort and unease for other reasons. As someone who’d spent their entire life moving from place to place and keeping their head down as to avoid garnering attention, being the subject of a setting created unease.

So, when Milena learned that the Grisha were holding a somewhat “party” in the Little Palace and she was expected to attend, she was less than pleased. For one, people. For two, Zoya. They hadn’t exactly hit it off upon their first meeting. In fact, the only hitting occurred when Zoya sent Milena flying into a stack of logs in what was supposed to be a hand-to-hand combat training session.

Milena, of course, returned the favor, despite the scolding she received from Botkin

Third, she just….didn’t want to.

Too many people had already asked her too many questions. Questions about her power, her parents, where she’d been, was she the sun summoner. It was just all too much, hence her sneaking away to find solace in the palace gardens.

Everyone seemed eager to be at the party, so it was a safe place of solitude and silence.

Some of her favorite things.

“I believe the banquet is inside, is it not?”

Naturally, Milena jumped and had her arms up, ready to attack, only to be met with the smug expression of General Kirigan.

She relaxed, slightly, enough to lower her arms. Milena bowed her head and mustered a low, “sir.”

He clasped his hands behind his back. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Be respectful. Milena didn’t know if it was the fact that she hadn’t made the best first impression or his frustration with her lack of progress in their training, but she sensed the edge in his voice. After all, he seemed convinced that she was afraid of something, which was hindering her growth.

Whatever.

Regardless, it didn’t escape her how he seemed to take pleasure in toying with her, or maybe being a prick was just something he enjoyed having as a defining trait. Whatever the case, it was getting old. Real old.

“I prefer being alone,” was all she said, eager, though not hopeful, that he would understand the underlying meaning. Leave me be.

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” she answered, confidently, looking at him head on. Gone were the days of staring at the ground. She refused to do that any longer. “And as this is your palace, shouldn’t you be at your own banquet?”

He smiled, and Milena nearly doubled back. For as long as she’d known him, the only two emotions and expressions she’d known him to emote were irritation and anger. Perhaps, maybe, amusement, but even that was cleverly hidden behind narrowed eyes and closed lips. And now, the bastard was smiling?

“Fair enough.” She wasn’t expecting that. What exactly she was expecting, she didn’t know, but she knew it wasn’t that. “May I?”

He gestured to the seat near the fountain where she stood. Hesitantly, she nodded, watching him take a seat. Milena decided to occupy herself, searching the garden beds for a petal or something else that could be taken without issue.

“How are you adjusting to life in the Little Palace?”

She couldn’t help the snort that left her mouth at that question. Milena considered lying. Would it be disrespectful to tell him that she contemplated running away at least once a week?

“Well, aside from Zoya trying to kill me, Baghra hating me, and being gawked at like some object by everyone else, I must say, it has been quite the adventure.” Rolling her eyes, she looked over at him to see that he was no longer smiling, the familiar scowl returning.

“You do not have to worry about Zoya anymore.”

Milena spun around, eyes widening. “Is she…”

“Taking time off to reevaluate her priorities,” he finished. Milena wanted to know more but she decided not to push. “And pay Baghra no mind, she cares for few—”

“I didn’t know she could care.” He looked at her, prompting Milena to drop her gaze and apologize. “Sorry.”

He said nothing, skipping to his next question. “Is your room satisfactory?”

At that, her eyebrow quipped. Out of everything, having such luxurious rooming accommodations ranked at the top of her list of reasons to stay. “Well, I’ve never had warming stones put in my bed before, so that’s been a nice change.” She located a three-leaf clover, twisting it in her hands as she leaned back against the stone edging so that she was facing him. “It’s nice having Genya. She doesn’t gawk or probe. I like that.”

“I thought you preferred being alone.”

“I do,” she affirmed, sighing and shaking her head. “I’ve-I’ve always been alone. It’s...it’s all I know.”

Why she was saying that, to him of all people, she hadn’t a clue. In fact, Milena suddenly realized just how strange the nature of this conversation was. Never had he inquired about sentiments toward trivial manners such as her enjoyment, or lack thereof, of her time at the palace. And now, she was divulging beyond surface level feelings.

Milena opened her mouth to change the subject when she realized that he was no longer sitting down but standing up just a few mere inches away. “You are Grisha, Milena.” A beat. “You are not alone.”

She swallowed. Milena didn’t know what to say to that. Did she believe him? Not necessarily. Having gifts in common with others did not equate undying loyalty. She’d never been able to trust and depend on anyone, so how could he expect his mere words to reverse a lifetime of trauma?

Milena relaxed ever so slightly when he moved back, turning to leave. Without thinking, she called after him, prompting him to turn around.

“Why are you training me?” She didn’t intend to ask him anything else, especially since he was leaving her to her much desired solitude. And yet, the sight of him walking away irked her to a certain degree. For what reason, she hadn’t a clue. “You don’t train anyone else.”

“You are not like anyone else.”

She scoffed and looked away. “So, I’ve been told.”

He studied her. “Tell me, are you so anxious to be like everybody else?”

She laughed bitterly. “It would be nice to know how that feels someday...general.”

He continued to examine her, as if he was trying to figure something out. Figure her out. “Well, that day is not today.”

“Nor will it be any other day,” she chucked sadly, turning back around to stare at her reflection in the pond. Milena frowned. Another day of seeing a stranger.

Eyes falling to the side, she made out the General’s reflection. He was now beside her. “What do you see?”

She sighed, fingers dancing in the water, creating waves of ripples. “Someone’s reflection of me.”

“Or perhaps the real you is finally emerging.”

She turned to look at him, discovering that he was already staring at her. Suddenly, self-conscious, she turned away with an awkward smile. “If this is the real me, why do you push me so much?”

His answer surprised her. “Because I can see it. You can’t.”

“Are you familiar with disappointment?”

“In all my years, I’ve never seen a Grisha who can do what you can.” He informed, honestly, and again, Milena suspected no subterfuge. He was being genuine. “You are special, Milena, but it will mean nothing if you don’t stop holding back.”

“You keep saying that, but I’m n—”

“What happened to your parents?”

Her mouth dried and stomach immediately knotted. What reason did he have to go there or to even ask what he already knew? Again, she was reminded how awful the Black General could be.

“You kno—”

“Tell me.”

She pursued her lips as her jaw clenched. “They were killed. Betrayed by friends who found out they were Grisha. Burned alive.”

His gaze was so intense, she should have looked away, but she didn’t. She maintained eye contact.

“And you’ve been hiding ever since, hiding who you are, hiding what you can do—”

“So I could stay alive—”

“So what is your reason now, Ms. Belarus?”

At that, her stomach settled, and defensiveness waned. He had her there.

His words replayed in her mind for the rest of the evening, even as she laid in bed, unable to sleep, her mind a vast bat of conflicting feelings.

She never considered that she was holding back. She was able to utilize all three of her gifts, so how could she be holding back? Then she thought, really thought about what not only the General had been telling her, but Baghra said as well.

And gradually, it started coming to her. The quickness in which she put out the flames, she way she would rush and hide when using her squaller abilities, the terror that filled her being when she sped up or stopped someone’s heart.

She lived in a constant state of anxious panic, fear that she would meet the same fate of her parents.

“Who are you holding back for?”

“My parents,” she whispered, grasping at her eyes, wetness pooling at her fingertips.

Frustrated, she sat up, pulling her legs to her chest. This wasn’t how she expected to spend her night, encountering and swallowing hard truths that she’d managed to dodge up until now. The reason she continued to doubt herself was because she feared the same judgment and persecution as her parents. Even more, there was a difference between choosing to be alone because of feared rejection, and solitude out of necessity. Along the way, those two ends had meshed, and she’d lost where the truth lied.

Up until now.

Wiping at her eyes, Milena kicked the blankets off her body and swung her legs around so that they dangled off the side of her bed. Gripping the edge of the mattress, she stared at the ground, taking a slow, deep breath before standing up. Milena walked toward the door, grabbing a silver robe along the way. She loosely tied it so that her white nightgown with the low neck was somewhat concealed, though not completely.

Where she was going, she knew not, she just allowed her feet to do the thinking for her, which may or may not have worked in her favor. She found herself outside of the General’s room, but instead of like most in the palace, his door was open and he was awake. She looked in and saw that he was standing by the war table, back toward her.

Milena could have sworn she was quiet enough to avoid detection, but he still turned around. Milena realized that he was also in his robe, stark black. Of course. He looked surprised, but not annoyed, by her presence.

“Milena.”

She straightened and laid her hand on the door, swallowing. “I’m sorry. I—am I disturbing you?”

Yes.

“Not at all.” He unfolded his arms. “Can’t sleep?” With a small smile, she shook her head and gradually started to enter his room, halfway expecting him to stop her. “Come in.”

She paused momentarily, waiting for him to change his mind, but once again, he didn’t. Instead, he reached for a small glass of what she supposed was wine and offered it to her. “Here.”

She accepted the drink, bringing it to her mouth to sniff for any unfamiliar or strange scents. She found none and took a sip, eyes falling over to the table while his attention remained on her. Milena quietly cleared her throat and gestured to the pawns. “Is this map current?”

“It is.” He followed her line of vision to see the makeup of the map only to look back at her again. “Our enemies are threatened by your mere existence.”

Milena looked away, a small sense of guilt eating at her. He was referring to her discovery. In the midst of moving from one town to another after noticing strange looks of the townsfolk, the saints were clearly not on her side as she unknowingly walked into the middle of a battle between the Second Army and the drüskelle. Initially, her plan was to lay low and avoid being killed, but she quickly realized that was not an option. She was forced to use her power, all three variations, rendering the fjerdans and the grisha nearly speechless. For the fjerdans who survived, they returned with tales of her, her abilities, and for the grisha, she was suddenly a new recruit. It was all so unexpected and sudden, and Milena often felt as though everything was happening far too quickly.

He continued. “There is talk of uprising in the West.” He began to inch away from her, nearing a poster of Zlatan, the First Army General. “Led by our….esteemed First Army General.”

Milena noticed a sudden chill in the room as patches of light became obscured by growing shadows. Confused, she quickly realized they were General Kirigan’s doing. “Our own people, turning their backs on us.”

Milena saw the anger brimming, the way he stared with quiet hate at the poster, the table, the whole thing. Unconsciously, she moved toward him. “General--”

“I have been fighting this war….alone....for so long.” With each pained statement, Milena found herself moving closer toward him as the darkness continued to fill the room. This was more than anger. It was grief. “I have buried so many good soldiers…..friends.”

She placed her glass down and realized she was merely inches away from him. Milena ignored the urge to touch him. She’d never seen him this vulnerable, his ardent anger on full display in a simmering manner which made him appear even more dangerous. Loud anger was palpable, but quiet rage was unpredictable.

“The coffers are running dry, the noose….tightens, and our own people are turning against grisha just as their kin once did.”

Milena was unsure of what to do in that moment. The room was completely dark, save for specks of light that entered through the bottom of the door. His words cut through her life a knife. For the first time, she realized just how much of a heavy weight this man carried. And she sympathized with him. Greatly.

Reacting on pure instinct rather than protocol or logic and repressing her reluctance, she placed her hand on his wrist, tugging slightly. He angled his body toward her, allowing Milena to grab both of his wrists. She looked up at him, quieting the voices in the back of her head that told her her conduct was out of line. Focusing, she detected his erratic heartbeat and worked to calm him, speaking when she realized he was relaxing.

“You are not alone,” she echoed his words from only a few hours prior. This time, Milena studied him, observing how his eyes burned into her with a plethora of emotions: confusion, irritation, peace. Gradually, the shadows receded, and the light returned.

In more than one way.

The Darkling suddenly dropped her hands. She prepared to move back, accepting whatever disciplinary action he thought necessary. Not only had she initiated contact, but she’d used her powers on him without permission. That had to be grounds for some type of punishment.

But instead, she quietly gasped when he brought his right hand to her face, his hands so large that it encompassed nearly the entire right side of her face. She almost flinched, his touch was so cold. Kirigan tugged her closer. She was tempted to lay her hands on his chest.

“I’ve never…” He seemed at a loss for words, something she found astonishing for someone who always radiated such avid confidence. Milena found herself focusing on his mouth, only to realize he was staring at hers as well. “I have been waiting a long time for you.”

Milena hadn’t a clue what to say or even how and if she could or should respond to such a thing. What exactly did he mean? From what she’d learned, the Darkling had always been in search of a Sun Summoner. She was no Sun Summoner. She was simply a grisha with above average gifts, hardly a saint. So, what exactly was the reason behind his quiet confession?

Unsure and now uncomfortable, Milena forced herself to pull away. She could not ignore the drop in her stomach when she moved so that he was so no longer cupping her face. “I should go.”

He opened his mouth to say something, prompting Milena to turn away and amble out of his room. Though the door was open when she arrived, she closed it, leaning against it as she caught her breath. She swallowed and thought about what happened, face warm and heartbeat unsteady, even if she didn’t understand it.

Milena felt overwhelmed with emotions. She’d oscillated through so many feelings in less than 24 hours. She was exhausted and only remained outside his door for a few moments before she wisely hurried away back to her room, unaware that he was also on the other side of the door, also struggling to understand what had just occurred.

[chasseurdeloup-retired]

Winding Path Ahead || Bea and Kaden

TIMING: Sometime before Nell’s party LOCATION: Kaden’s car en route out of town PARTIES:  @beatrice-blaze and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: Bea invites Kaden on a road trip and in the car, things get a little heavier than anticipated for a distracting day out. CONTENT WARNINGS: Ableism (specifically in relation to therapy and mental health), suicidal ideation If you are at all sensitive to these topics, please skip and message for a TLDR;

How long had it been since Bea saw Kaden? The last time they had really been around each other she had cried because of a gun and then he brought her a milkshake. It had been a random invitation, one she didn’t think he would take, but he surprised her and now they were going to be in a car together for at least six hours today. They were far from White Crest when she finally broke the small talk. “I killed the Hunter.” Maybe not the best thing to say when he was driving, but the words had been bubbling her throat for too long now. “I’m making his femur a knife.” 

Kaden was desperate for just about any distraction as of late. Spending that time with a friend? He practically jumped at the chance. Six hours in the car seemed like nothing. Sitting around and thinking about his crap, Regan’s training, Nadia’s situation, a minute thinking about it could feel like an hour. So he’d go help Bea with whatever she needed if it got him out of the house and out of his head. It had been too long since he spent time with her anyway. Surly she’d have plenty to say about the thoughts rolling around his mind recently. If he decided to share them. For now it had been easy conversation sprinkled with moments of peaceful silence, easy company. Until she dropped a bomb out of nowhere. “You what?” he said, startled out of his thoughts. It took him a second to process. The hunter? What hunter? He looked at her, saw the scar on her neck. Right. That hunter. His stomach churned remembering. It was easy to forget sometimes. Other times, the image of her head, severed and floating flashed in front of his eyes. It just happened. “That-- I’m sorry what?” His femur. A knife. His femur into a knife. “You kept his--” The fact that he’d nearly killed Bea unsettled him a lot more just then. That could have been him. In a way. Not that he’d-- He pinched his eyes shut just for a flash, trying to push the thought away, keep his focus on the road ahead. “Right. Good for you.” He didn’t really approve but he couldn’t really argue against the pain she’d faced, the pain Montgomery had caused. Didn’t seem like it was worth a fight or worth his disapproval. And didn’t he plan to take a fang from the werewolf who killed his parents whenever that day came? Who the fuck was he to criticize. “So it’s done, then.” 

That nervous laugh that Bea thought she had kicked flooded out of her. Maybe that was too much of an overshare, but she had barely been social in the last few months and at this point, she couldn’t remember how to do it. “I want to keep a piece of him as a trophy. Like he did to me.” The words tasted stale. She had been saying that for months now but wasn’t the truth of it that she just wanted to have proof it happened. She wanted to hold onto that knife and remember that it was real, that she did it. She wasn’t sure any monster she faced in the future would be so great, but if any came close, she could wield that knife and remember the strength she could produce. She could remember reclaiming herself, she could remember who she had been in the shade of that shed. “It’s done. He’s gone and no one will ever miss him.” It’s done. She knew it, felt it in her chest where it warmed her like her fire once had, but it didn’t always feel real. Just like she didn’t always feel real. She toed at her shoe, felt the rubber tip bounce back at her, wondering if Kaden would care if she kicked them off to tuck her feet under her butt. “Felix left for New York. I don’t know when he’ll be back…” Trailing off, she looked out the window, fingers pressed to the window watching her warmth bring fog to the edges. “So, how are you?”

You could be better than him, is what Kaden wanted to say. Instead he nodded and kept his eyes on the road, let her have her moment, as much as it made him want to squirm a little in his seat. She’d killed a hunter. Kept his bones as a trophy. Her words sounded hollow. Not with the same emptiness that Regan’s had sometimes, not with hopelessness. It was something else he heard there. Doubt? Maybe? It was hard to say for sure when he had to place some of his concentration on driving. He had to remind himself that if she were talking about a wolf, undead, or fae, he would hardly blink. And he’d seen that room. He knew how disgusting Montgomery was. It didn’t make him any less human, any less like him. Bile crept up his throat as he compared his own powers to his. As much as he wanted to deny it, it was there. They shared something. Hell, they’d worked together. He hated that, too. He gripped the wheel a little tighter, letting his knuckles turn white before letting up. He’d done it for Bea. And when all was said and done, the pricolici that they took down was a job well done. It wasn’t a hunt he regretted participating in for a second, company aside. “Good.” He didn’t love what it meant for her. But he did like knowing it was done. It was. It had to be. Maybe this could let her move forward. After everything, she deserved that.

Then his heart sank for her. “He left?” Kaden asked. Dumb question. He didn’t need her to repeat it but it was hard to process. Just left? Just like that? She deserved more than that, too. “I’m sorry. He--” The words hung in the air a while. As did her next question. How was he? Laughter crept up and started to spill out of him before he could even get the answer out. “Shit,” he said eventually through the stupid, depressing laughter. “I feel like shit.” The laughter kept coming. It wasn’t funny. But it was better to laugh than cry. Not to mention he didn’t even know where to start explaining. Or if he even wanted to.

As bloody the job had been, Bea hadn’t regretted it. It wasn’t something she had ever imagined herself doing, but it was deserved. It had softened something in her, her jaw didn’t always hurt from clenching her teeth, her shoulders weren’t constantly tensed. Perhaps it would never fully go away, but she would savor this for now. “His family needed him in New York,” She told him, playing with her hair as she contemplated their empty apartment. Moving back into the house had been odd, it had been a haven for her sisters after her death. It felt wrong originally to tell them she was coming back. She had to remind herself it was her house. “We’re still together, just long distance. We’re open and everything so it’s not like we’re depriving ourselves of anything.” Still, she missed him already. There was too much space in her bed now, but she knew he was only a train ride away. She watched her friend closely as he laughed, it was bad if he was laughing. “What’s been going on?” Sometimes all someone needed was to be listened to. She was sure that Kaden would need something more than that, but it couldn’t hurt to get it off his chest.

“Alright. But I’m still-- It sucks. To be... So I’m sorry.” Kaden’s thumbs brushed against the steering wheel as the silence settled in again, the echoes of his stupid laughter died down again. God, he wasn’t sure if he could explain all of this while driving. He had to hold himself together. He couldn’t fall apart. He couldn’t afford to. Not that he could afford to before. “I don’t even know where to start, Bea,” he said, voice small. “I-- Alain lost a leg. To a bugbear. And it was my fault. And I nearly got Abel killed. Fucking would have if I didn’t--” Once he began, the words kept falling out of his mouth. He couldn’t stop them, there was no control left, no holding back the floodgates now. “And Regan, she’s--” Fuck, where did he even begin there. “She’s doing intensive banshee training. Torture. She’s torturing herself trying to cut out her emo-- She quit her fucking job. Her. Regan. Quit her fucking job. Regan. The woman who-- I’ve seen her twice in the past month and a half. Just twice. And--” His chest grew tighter, clutching his words in its grips. “She’s not-- I think I’m losing her. Fuck, she’s losing hers--” The road ahead of him started to blur and he held tighter onto the wheel, willing the tears away, pushing his own emotions away. “Sorry. I-- I can’t. I--” He swallowed back the tightness with a deep inhale, centered himself. Focused on the lines on the road in front of him. “Guess it’s clear why I wanted the distraction now, huh? Not that I don’t enjoy your company.” The smile he offered her was half hearted but it was the best he could manage.  

The silence that stretched between them after Kaden finished was going to suffocate Bea. That was a lot and she didn’t know how to lightly tell him that he was taking on way too many people’s trauma. He needed to take a vacation and leave this town and all its craziness behind for a minute. Maybe she shouldn’t have asked him how he was when he was driving, this seemed unsafe. She tapped on her knee, struggling to find what he needed to hear. She decided to not tell him something that would make him feel better. “I think you need to see a therapist, Kaden,” She grimaced as she realized how harsh it sounded once it was out. “You’re holding all of that in and I don’t think just talking about it with a friend will help. You need real coping mechanisms that are cleared by a doctor.” God, she didn’t even really trust doctors, but he needed a professional and she certainly wasn’t one. She pressed her lips, “And before you say you can’t because you can’t explain the whole supernatural thing, just make something up that’s human enough to work. We’re in a weird town, they’re heard a lot of shit I’m sure.” Flexing and relaxing her fists a few times, she shrugged. “I know that’s probably not what you wanted to hear, but I think you should consider it.”

Her words felt like a slap in the face. “You’re right. It’s not,” he told her. Kaden had considered keeping his thoughts to himself earlier and now he wished he had. “I don’t need a fucking therapist,” he spat back, eyes facing straight ahead at the road in front of them. Sure, he felt like he could fall apart at any moment but he wasn’t broken, some crazy person who needed help. Even if he did “need” to see a therapist, which he was fucking sure wasn’t true, he wasn’t going to go see one. “No shrink is going to tell me what to do or how to fucking cope.” Like they could even begin to understand. All his issues were with the supernatural, all because it fucking existed. And he was supposed to talk to someone but not about that? Bullshit. “Make up something human? Like fucking what? I’m pretty sure I’m not getting around the fact my girlfriend is torturing herself and that I’m sitting the fuck back and letting it happen. And that’s the easy one to explain. What the fuck would be the point if I have to censor myself? How is that going to help?” Silence hung in the air once more and his grip on the wheel tightened again. “I’m not going to put myself in a situation where I could risk my job or worse by seeming fucking mentally unfit, Bea. I’m not losing that, too.” And just like that the list of people he could open up to shrunk down once more. He’d have to hold everything a little closer to his chest, pull it all in tighter that’s all. Not like he wasn’t used to it. He did that for years. It was stupid to think things might have changed. “Sorry. I’ll just, I’ll keep my shit to myself from now on. What else did you want to talk about?”

This certainly wasn’t the first time Kaden had yelled at her or reacted negatively to something Bea had said, but it stung no less. Her lips pressed together and for a moment she wanted to snap back at him, wanted to make him hurt like he had just hurt her. She shook her head, looking ahead of them, breathing slowly through her nose as she focused on the horizon. “Quite frankly, if you don’t want to go that’s fine, but you don’t have to get angry at me for trying to help you. I’m trying to be a good friend and you are not reacting like a good one right now. Does yelling at me make you feel better?” She didn’t say it maliciously, but she certainly didn’t want him to think she was going to tolerate the behavior anymore. She huffed out of her nose, “That’s unfair and you know it.” She turned to look at him, “Why do you like talking to me about this? I'm really asking, that’s not a trick question.” Maybe she could make him see that he could talk to people about this who were qualified to help. She couldn’t give him advice right now, not when she was finding her own footing with coping. “Also, I’m pretty sure unless your therapist is hired by the department they can’t say anything.”

“I’m not yelling at you,” Kaden retorted, his voice still sharp, though not raised. “But fine, maybe I’m a shitty friend then. You asked me what was going on and I told you.” And then she called him crazy. He knew it was a lot. It was why he tried not to let on half the time. And here he was, kicking himself for letting any of it slip out. “So there it fucking is. That’s what’s going on.” Some of it at least. There was more he hadn’t even said. Lucky her. Not shocked that she couldn’t handle it. “I don’t like talking about any of it with anyone.” Not like he really got the option to either way. He ground his teeth back and forth against one another. He had a feeling he was a fucking burden to deal with, someone that people just put up with and dealt with, but it didn’t make the confirmation sting any less. “Well great. Doesn’t matter because I don’t have a therapist and I’m not getting one,” he reiterated. Maybe it was sheer stubbornness at this point but he fucking hated the implications either way. That he was damaged or crazy or some shit like that. He was fine. He could handle this. And he planned to continue doing so, even if that was by him-fucking-self. 

He was talking like her mom. Bea knew that sharp tone from the way her mother reacted when things didn’t go her way. For a moment she felt small, chastised, but she was not going to shrink back like she once would have. She wasn’t that girl anymore and her mother’s tone, Kaden’s tone wasn’t going to make her back down. Could she be friends with him right now? When she needed to heal so badly herself? He wasn’t a bad person, or even a bad friend most of the time, but she wasn’t sure they were healthy for one another anymore. Maybe one day they could be again, but this wasn’t healthy, this wasn’t fair to either one of them. All they seemed to do was break down in front of each other. When was the last time they had enjoyed each other’s presence, not because they needed emotional support but just to hang out? She couldn’t remember and she knew she was part of that problem. “I don’t appreciate the cussing, Kaden,” She told him, firmly. “You can say you aren’t angry, but you certainly aren’t happy with me and your tone is hurtful. I standby what I said, even though you seem to think the idea is so offensive.” She pulled out her phone, ready to use it to shut down the conversation, “I won’t bring it up again.” She set off to text Felix and ignore Kaden.

“Well of course not, you just called me crazy.” Kaden’s words left his mouth before he had a chance to think about them. But he wasn’t wrong, was he? That’s who got sent to therapy. People who talked about werewolves and vampires openly, who got caught and couldn’t write it off or explain what they saw. That’s what his parents always warned him about. She had to know that, right? Was White Crest really that different from everywhere else? He stole a glance over at her and noticed she was just on her phone, not engaging. Great. So he fucked something else up, too. Add it to the list. “I can just turn around if you want,” he said, his voice much smaller now. He kept his jaw clenched tight after, to hold any stupid emotions back that were threatening to escape. He just wanted a distraction, a decently normal day with his friend. Fuck, was she even his friend? He swallowed back the lump growing in his throat. Didn’t matter. He came to this town alone. He should have known that he was going to leave it like that, too.  “And since when do you hate cursing again?”

Bea’s mouth dried, the anger she had held slipped away, replaced with the never ending, bone numbing exhaustion that she had thought she had left behind. This happened often when she tried to help people, didn’t it? Her words were taken the wrong way and she ruined relationships. It had happened with her sisters. “I didn’t say you were crazy,” She whispered back. Her fingers were cold and she nearly shivered, she was still not used to being cold. She didn’t think she ever would be. Looking out the window, she wondered if the mood of this trip would be so great to affect the weather. It certainly felt strong enough to conjure a storm. “I’m so scared for you, Kaden.” The words slipped from her, brittle and unrefined. “You’re like Nell, where you take all of this trauma from other people and you store it in your chest. And you never, never talk about it until it’s like it’s cracking your ribs apart and forcing itself out.” Her fingers curled into fists, nails biting into her palms. “One day, I feel like it’ll be too much for you and when it comes to fighting whatever is after you, you’ll be too tired to. You’ll close your eyes and tell yourself that this is better, this is easier. And it will feel easier, because life is so much harder than death.” She stared at the ceiling of the car, remembering the numbness she felt when she came back. She knew she hoped that no one would ever feel that way. “And I am still too broken to help you. I can’t help you pick up your pieces, not when I’m still so shattered that I’m cutting myself on the ragged edges of who I was. I know what it feels like to drown in the problems surrounding you. I know that every decision you face right now feels like it could ruin everything around you. And I don’t want you to feel the way I feel, Kaden. I want you to get help. I want some smarter and stronger than me to be able to help you. That’s why I said you should go to therapy. Not because you’re crazy, but because I think you can still heal from this.”

Kaden braced himself for more anger or indifference. He was ready for either. He wasn’t sure if he deserved either but some part of him knew it was warranted either way. What he got from her instead was… different. He didn’t know if it was worse, better, he couldn’t decide because it caught him off guard. Her voice was soft, but he heard every syllable. And he listened, rapt attention, finding it harder and harder to stay focused on the road. The words took a while to settle in, to mean something. She was scared for him. Scared that he’d… He couldn’t quite like that process, too afraid to acknowledge what she really meant in his own mind, like it might give the thoughts some traction to hold onto. His family always implied therapy was dangerous, something to avoid, something that would destroy you. It was hard to think of it as anything else. But he couldn’t deny what she was saying, the sentiment behind her words. Agree or disagree on what therapy was or what it meant, she cared. And wanted to help him. And he wasn’t quite sure how much of what she said was about him and not her. The road felt never ending ahead of him, like it could swallow him whole. He couldn’t think and drive right now, not about this. He felt like he’d sink. Or drive them off the road. He put on the turn signal and pulled over onto the shoulder. For a while he sat in silence, staring ahead as cars rushed past them, shaking the car as they did. “Okay,” he finally said after a long while. “I don’t know if-- I’m not sure if I want to go to-- I...” He could hardly get out the words. He felt broken. Not just for him, for her, too. “I’m sorry that I-- I’m sorry.” He finally turned to meet her eyes. “I didn’t mean to drop all of this and I don’t need you to solve anything I just…” He ground his teeth against themselves, forcing his lip to keep from quavering at all. “I’ll consider it. But only if--” He paused, almost afraid to suggest it. “Only if, uh, if you do, too.” Please. His eyes practically begged her to consider it, too. If she felt the same and she thought he needed this, why the hell should he be the only one going? And he couldn’t lose her. Not again. 

As he pulled off to the side, Bea felt the walls of the car get smaller and smaller. These conversations had only been something she had started to have in the past year. Mental health and her mother didn’t mix well, not when Nisa thought that everything could be cure with some magic and determination. She picked at the hem of her shirt sleeve, there was a few pieces of lint that could keep her hands busy. She didn’t want to go to therapy, she had tried it a few times and it had made her uncomfortable. Pouring her problems on to a stranger made her antsy and she had hated the way she was looked at, with practiced empathy and understanding. Still, she nodded. If it could get Kaden into therapy, she’d do it. She didn’t have to dive too deeply into these therapy sessions, she could just talk about surface-level issues. “I’m open to going again,” She said softly. “It’s important to go, I think.” And she thought it was, at least for Kaden, but she had tried it. She would do it again, for him and maybe to ease some anxiety her sisters had, but she wasn’t sure it would work for her. Not when therapists always looked at her like they understood everything when they couldn’t even begin to understand what had happened to her. She knew that Kaden might think the same, but she didn’t dare tell him why she had stopped, not when it could influence how he felt about it all in the end. “Hopefully, it helps.”

Every time he asked something from someone, Kaden was reminded why he had kept his life so closed up in the past, why he didn’t open the door to these sorts of moments. That uncertain feeling where rejection was just a breath away was something he fucking hated. Choosing to be alone and discarded hurt a hell of a lot less than even the possibility of someone else choosing it for him. Half of him was damn near convinced she’d still ask him to turn the car around and head home. “Again?” he asked quietly. Oh. So she had… Huh. It never occurred to him that she had-- He bit the inside of his mouth. Great. No wonder she was treating him like a fucking asshole. He was. Fucking great. “Okay. Hopefully it helps,” he repeated. He took a deep inhale in before he even thought about starting up the car again. “Ready for that nice, easy, distracting day we had planned to start now?”

“I went for a bit at the beginning of the year. I was trying to figure out how to deal with being controlling with my sisters,” Bea admitted. Not that it had helped with that, other things forced her to stop being controlling. Her dying was probably the reason that she had a good relationship with the girls again. She smiled a bit, “Yeah, today starts now. This all was yesterday. We should get coffee to start the day off.” 

[manessqueeze]

The Waiting Game

For Malex week, free day, but it’s a meet ugly since I missed day one. Read on AO3

As far as court mandated punishments went, Michael supposed therapy didn’t sound so bad. Sixty days in the slammer? No thanks, he’d go to the damn therapist and try to do something constructive for once in his life. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t bitch about it.

“I’m so proud of you, Michael. I think this will be really good for you,” Izobel said as they pulled into the parking lot. She had insisted on driving him to his first appointment. Probably to assure that he went. He didn’t blame her.

Skipping out on it had crossed his mind a time or two, but he couldn’t take another lecture from Deputy Dad, also known as Max. Michael could almost hear his voice in his head. “When’s your appointment, Michael?” “Don’t forget your appointment, Michael?” “Don’t make me regret vouching for you, Michael.”

“You’re gonna be late if you don’t get out, Michael.”

Michael turned his head to glare at Max in the backseat. See what he had to put up with? Mother hens, the lot of them. He knew it meant they cared, but he had issues okay, hence the need for intense psychotherapy.

“Alright, I’m going,” he huffed as he took off his seatbelt and pushed open the door.

The office looked generic enough when he made it inside. He filled out some paperwork the receptionist gave him then took a seat in the corner. He checked his watch several times as he bounced his knee to try and dispel some of his anxious energy and keep from vibrating out of his skin. He could’ve probably ran a marathon with the amount of adrenaline running through him.

“Dr. Brady’s running late,” the receptionist said, probably taking pity on his nerves.

He nodded and thought about thumbing through some magazines while he waited, but the door jingled open before he could decide, and the most delicious hunk of eye candy Michael had ever seen strutted right up to the reception desk. The man’s shirttail rode up when he leaned his elbows on the counter, and his tight jeans left little to the imagination where the guy’s exquisite ass was concerned.

“Hey, Mary. I’m here for my appointment,” the guy said, voice a velvety melody Michael wanted to snuggle up in.

“I have you checked in, Alex. Dr. Brady’s running late.”

“No problem. I’m off today.”

“Oh, have any big plans?” Mary asked with a smile that made Michael go a little green around the edges.

“You’re looking at it.”

“Well, enjoy your down time then.”

“I will.” Alex smiled at her before turning around, his gaze landing on Michael who hadn’t managed to tear his eyes away from that perfect ass in time. He gulped at getting caught, but if Alex’s smile got a little bigger because of it, Michael’s heart couldn’t tell ‘cause it stopped.

Aw, dammit. So much for stomping out that bisexual awakening he kept trying to ignore.

He looked away but tracked Alex in his periphery as he walked toward the adjacent corner and took a seat two chairs down. Michael let out a long sigh and leaned forward to put his elbows on his knees, hoping it might stop the bouncing. It didn’t. So he sat back up and popped his neck.

“Therapy virgin?” Alex asked, and Michael’s eyes darted over to him at lightspeed.

“You could say that, yeah.”

“It’s not so bad. Dr. Brady’s really good.”

“Well, it’s not like I have a choice. It’s court mandated,” Michael bit out, trying to push the guy away before he even realized it, the action so ingrained in his brain.

“What’d you do? If you don’t mind me asking?”

“I don’t remember,” he lied. “Something about a parade float and a watermelon stand, or so they tell me.”

Alex’s eyes crinkled in confusion before morphing into recognition. “Michael Guerin. You’re the dickhole that stole my float!”

“Your float?”

“It was my parade you ruined,” he said, reaching down to pull up his pant leg to reveal a prosthetic.

“Oh, shit, Alex Manes?" Michael hadn’t recognized him out of uniform. He looked hotter somehow.

“Three quarters of him, anyway.”

“I’m—”

“Sorry? Yeah, well, it’s not about the parade. I couldn’t have cared less about that. The watermelon stand however, was my nephew’s and he’s been crying about it ever since.”

“God, I am a dickhole. I’ll, uh, I’ll build him a new one. I swear.”

“Yeah, you will.”

The conviction in Alex’s statement should’ve pissed him off. In fact, it would have if it had come from anybody else, but coming out of that pretty mouth did weird things to his dick. Yeah, he’d definitely have to add a sexual identity crisis to his list of therapy goals. Not that he considered it a crisis, because the war hero was fucking hot.

“Is that why you’re here?” Michael asked, motioning toward Alex’s missing leg. He half expected Alex to tell him to fuck off, but he didn’t.

He sighed heavy instead as he nodded. “Partly. PTSD is a bitch, but I was messed up long before that. Major daddy issues on account of him trying to beat the gay out of me. Joke’s on him though, ‘cause it didn’t work.” He huffed out the cutest little laugh that had Michael mirroring it.

“Major abandonment and intimacy issues thanks to growing up in shitty foster care.”

Alex smirked at him, the twist of his lips a beautiful thing. “Are you trying to one up me with your trauma?”

“Hey, you showed me yours, thought I’d show you mine.”

Alex hummed, his eyes turning contemplative as they stared at each other in the quiet room. “This is probably a massive conflict of interest or something considering the circumstances, but would you maybe wanna grab a drink with me when we’re done here? You know, to discuss the architecture of watermelon stands and what not.”

Michael couldn’t have hid his smile if he’d tried. “Can we make it a milkshake instead? I’m trying to lay off the booze.”

“Right,” Alex agreed. “Good call. And yes, I’m definitely down for milkshakes.”

“Great. Then it’s a date.”

"Is it?" Alex asked with the quirk of a brow.

"I sure hope so 'cause I plan on kissing the shit out of you after."

Alex's cheeks flushed as he bit his lip. "Okay, then. But you're still rebuilding the watermelon stand."

"Absolutely."

And just like that, Michael felt a thousand times lighter than he had when he first walked in. Maybe this whole therapy thing had promise after all.

[naughtyneganjdm]

The Savior - Chapter 23

Summary: The reader has conflicting thoughts about what happened at her dinner with Mr. Moore as well as Negan's actions. Life throws a few hurdles in the way of her relationship with Negan and they do their best to get over them. 

Characters: Negan, Reader, Simon & more. 

Warnings: Swearing, smut, parental abuse, lots and lots of angst. 

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11995341/chapters/52024645

The sound of constant tapping filled the air and Negan lifted his head from staring down at his desk to see Y/N sitting in one of the chairs in his office working on her homework. Negan looked her over knowing that she was hanging out with him in his office before their softball game tonight while he graded some tests from his classes. She was tapping her pencil over and over again against the pad of paper and he held back a sigh.

Looking back to the tests, the sound of the tapping seemed to get louder and Negan let out a grumble. Dropping his pen on the table, he reached for his glasses and pulled them from his face.

“Baby, what’s with the tapping?” Negan grunted making her lift her head from her work to stare out at him with the stressed expression over her face. “I just have to check these and make sure they are right. All I’m focusing on is the fucking tapping.”

“I’m sorry,” she frowned, giving him a final once over before looking back toward her work again. She seemed stuck in contemplation and Negan huffed heavily. He set down what he was working on and moved around to the other side of the desk before her. He sat on the edge of the desk and watched her carefully. Eventually she noticed him watching and lifted her head to look up at him. "Do you need me to leave?" 

"What's going on?" Negan reached out to touch at her jawline, making her sigh. It was obvious by her body language that she was upset and stressed about something.  

"I skipped his class today and I don't think I can keep doing that," she explained, thinking about Mr. Moore and how he had pulled what he did. Instead of going to his class, she had hung out with Negan for the last part of the day and she realized that it may get her in trouble. "I don't want him to try and pull something on me. Like, try to fail me because I didn't want to fuck him." 

"That's not going to happen. Both of us know that would never happen," Negan tried to insist, but he really could acknowledge that she had every reason to worry. Clearly Jamie was holding that college over her head to get what he wanted. Negan desperately wanted to attack that man, but Y/N begged him to ignore it. She begged him to let it go and he wanted to give her what he wanted. While he understood why she wanted him to ignore it, there was still that rage inside of him that wanted to beat the hell out of Jamie for even touching her like that. 

“Do we?” she dropped the pencil that she had been tapping and she looked up at Negan with a nervous expression. “I’m scared Negan. I turned him down. I embarrassed him and I don’t know where he is going with this.”

“I’ll kill him if he tries it,” Negan insisted with a firm stare. The expression of pure anger over his features made her actually believe him. She reached out to grab at his hands and squeeze them tightly in hers. Negan’s intense hazel eyes were staring into hers. His thick eyebrows were arched and his jaw was twitching as he clearly thought of something to say. “You’re a good student. Most of your teachers would back that up.”

“I’m a good student, but I’m not as over the top about things as I used to be. I mean…most of my time I’ve been spending with you,” she explained, her big eyes looking up at Negan as he sighed heavily. “I still do a good job, but I’m not as eager to stick around the school and put in the extra effort.”

“I still think the fact that you fucking did that for so long means that people would still easily back you,” Negan tried to assure her as she stood up from the couch and looked to the time. It wasn’t long until the game and she knew she had to get ready.

“I have to go to my locker and get my things,” she explained and Negan nodded. Before she could walk off, Negan reached out to pull her in closer to him. When his arms wrapped loosely around her, she rest her head against the center of his chest. The sensation of his fingertips curling around the back of her neck to keep her close made her feel all the comfort she needed in that moment. Cuddling her head in closer to his chest, she could hear the sound of his heart beating and she felt calm. Yet, there was still something lingering in her mind that was bothering her.

“I would never let someone hurt you,” Negan assured her with a long sigh before pressing a kiss against her temple. The way she cuddled in closer to him made him realize she was actually scared about what was going to happen and he wished that he could take that all away for her. “You know that, right?”

“Yeah…” she simply responded, pulling away from him and looking up at him for a moment. Negan gave her a wink and went back to his seat when he unraveled his arms from her. She went to the leave the room before back stepping and clearing her throat anxiously. Negan was putting his glasses back on when he looked up at her. “I uh…I’ve been thinking about things and…you do know that I understand I would be in a very shitty place if it wasn’t for you Negan, right?”

“Of course…” Negan nodded, his jaw clamping after answering her. He could tell by the way she was staring out at him that she had her doubts. When her head tilted to the side, an uncomfortable sound fell from his throat. “What?”

“I don’t believe you,” she answered, her eyes glancing toward the ground. She was clearly anxious with what she was saying and was trying to avoid eye contact in the moment. Flabbergasted with her claim, he tossed his hands up and leaned further back in his desk chair. “I just kind of wish you would be honest with me. You have this muscle in your jaw that flexes when you are lying. It’s something I’ve been able to pick up on. I think what you said about me not appreciating you, you meant. You don’t think I appreciate what you’ve done for me. I think you dropped it the other day because I started crying and you felt bad.”

“Close the door please,” Negan requested of her and she did as he said. Negan shifted in the chair uneasily before dramatically shrugging his shoulders. “I love you Y/N. Does it matter what I think about that?”

“Yes. Yes it does,” she retorted with a saddened breath.

“Am I little upset with you still that you didn’t listen to me about Mr. Moore? Yes. I am,” Negan honestly informed her, grabbing a firm hold of the arms of the chair. The expression on her was clearly disappointed, but she wanted him to be honest so he was giving her that. “If you would have listened to me in the first place, we might not be sitting here questioning if someone was going to fuck with you or your future.”

Y/N’s eyes grew wide. She said nothing, but after thinking things over for a moment, she nodded.

“If you would have listened to me and told him that you had to wait until today instead of doing it over the weekend, maybe you wouldn’t need to be fucking scared of him,” Negan pointed out with a simple shrug as if it wasn’t a big deal. “If you learned to trust me a little bit, you may not have been in the shit you’re in right now.”

“You have a valid point, but I don’t feel as if that answers my question Negan,” she scoffed, folding her arms out in front of her chest and Negan chuckled. “It’s not funny Negan. I think there is something more going on here…over what happened with Jamie.”

“It all stems from Jamie sweetheart,” Negan almost mocked her and she felt herself tensing up. Negan rolled his eyes before leaning forward to rest his elbows on the desk. “But if you want me to go further, no…I don’t think you truly understand what I’ve done for you.”

 “I don’t understand that though. What have I done to act like I don’t appreciate what you’ve done for me?” she almost begged for an answer and Negan sighed, reaching up to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “Negan, please.”

“You really want to do this here?” Negan stammered in an exasperated tone and the look she gave him was almost desperate. “If someone ever finds out what I’ve done with you, I would lose my job instantly. Not only that, but I would never be able to work at a school again. You are living with me. I took you into my home where anyone from work could stop by and see that you are living there. Your father was beating you. If I didn’t bring you into my home you would still be at home getting your ass kicked.”

She went to say something and Negan shook his head to silence her as he stood from his seat, “When I called you in here that first time you kissed me…I was just trying to be a good person. You were the one that threw yourself at me. When I told you that we wouldn’t work out and we needed to part ways, you were the one that kept pushing it. When I didn’t want to have sex, you were the one that was so desperate to do it. Even though I knew this was wrong, you were constantly there to push this all on me.”

 “So are you saying that we’re a mistake?” she uttered out and Negan let out a frustrated groan. Shaking his head, he tried to think of a better way to say things. Clearly that hadn’t worked. “Then what are you trying to say?”

“I don’t know, I’m kind of telling you that I changed my entire way of life for you. I used to sleep around all the time. I never, ever put my job on the line for anything,” Negan began in a small slur as he thought about everything that had happened between them in the past. “Not to mention all the money I’ve spent that I never wanted to touch since I’ve been with you…”

“Negan,” she looked down toward the necklace that was resting over the center of her chest and she frowned. “I told you I didn’t want you to touch your father’s money. I never wanted that. I told you I didn’t want the necklace…”

“Doesn’t stop you from wearing it,” Negan’s eyebrow perked up and she let out an uncomfortable laugh. “Sometimes I think you are only with me because you have nowhere else to go. Once you find that place you’re meant to be, I’m pretty certain you are gonna take off on me.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she snapped, seeing Negan’s eyebrows bounce up over his glasses when she spoke. “Negan, I’m fucking crazy about you. Are you stupid?”

“You were so eager to pick up and take off to a college on the other side of the country without even a second thought. So what the hell am I supposed to think? Here I am thinking we have a pretty serious relationship and you are ready to go on the complete opposite end of the country to be at a school with some fucking shmuck,” Negan reminded her of her thought process a few days earlier. “Not exactly someone who is fucking crazy about you, is it? We’ve been living together for months and you are just ready to up to fucking leave me? Just like that? Without even talking to me about things, you just decide you are ready to go.”

“What am I supposed to do to prove to you then that you are everything to me? Because you are!” she stammered and Negan rolled his eyes before moving back to his desk to grab his things. “Negan…I’m asking…”

“I need to finish my work,” Negan snapped at her catching the way she seemed hurt by his outburst. When she went to speak up again, he held his hands up to cut her off. “If you want to start proving to me that you fucking care…let me finish my work. It needs to get done before the game. So why don’t you get your shit and we can talk about this at a more appropriate time instead of here at fucking school.”

She shot him a glare before walking out of the office and slamming the door behind her. The slam was loud enough to echo throughout the entire gym as she moved out of the gym. Her heart was pounding inside of her chest as she moved for her locker. Her blood was boiling and she couldn’t believe the things that Negan had been saying to her. She was angry as hell, but also extremely hurt that he would think that way about her. In her mind there was no reason for him to even begin to think that way.

Pulling open her locker, she took a moment to look down at the necklace that was around her neck. Negan’s comment made her feel like wearing it made her seem like she was a gold digger that wanted to flaunt his father’s money that he had. Part of her wanted to rip it right off her neck right there and throw it in the hallway, but she definitely decided that she no longer wanted it. Not after the comment that he made about it.

“Can we talk?” she heard the sound of someone moving in behind her as she was attempting to take off the necklace that Negan had given her. Looking over her shoulder, she let out a tense breath when she saw that it was Mr. Moore behind her. “I acknowledge that you didn’t come to my class today for good reason, but I was hoping we could talk about yesterday.”

“I really have nothing to say to you,” she claimed with an uncomfortable sound while looking down to the necklace that was wrapped around her fingers. “Whatever you wanted to say to me, you already did.”

“Yeah, but what are we going to do here?” Jamie’s green eyes stared out at her. He threw his hands up and looked down the hallway to make sure they were alone. “I’m sorry I did what I did, but I was reading vibes from you that I thought…”

“Well, you thought wrong and a relationship I had with you before that I thought was a friendship is gone. I thought you saw something more in me…in my work,” she explained and Jamie half laughed, staring out at her. “What?”

“Yeah, you’re a smart kid, but you thought what? That I thought you were some kind of writing genius? Are you really that arrogant?” Jamie questioned and she could feel the color draining from her face after he said that. “You were so desperate to get into my class when I had to change my schedule. You knew that it would be a one on one and you were more excited about that. I’m sorry to say this to you Y/N, but you’re smart…but you aren’t one in a million. You’re one of a handful of people that I’ve already met…”

His words hit her hard because she truly believed that this teacher had seen something more in her than he actually clearly had. The harsh words were just building up today and she could feel the ache at the center of her chest building.

“You were coming onto me so hard…” Jamie grumbled and she grunted under her breath. “You can’t blame me for taking the wrong idea. You were a little flirt and…”

“Don’t blame me for your fucking mistake,” Y/N snarled turning to Jamie on her heel. “You tried making a play at fucking me because you wanted to. You’re just scared because you don’t want me telling people about what happened…”

“No one would believe you in the first place,” Jamie snapped, his lip curling in disgust with her answer. “I thought I was doing something nice for you, you know…”

“What? Hey, you can fuck me and I’ll hook you up with someone I know at a college?” she shouted and Jamie held his hands up to silence her. “Are you that desperate? I thought with someone who looked like you, you would be getting tons of offers, yet here you are coming to me again…”

“So this is the fucking guy?” Y/N felt her body locking up at the sound of the voice behind her. Suddenly her strength and strong will completely escaped her as she looked over her shoulder to see her father standing in the hallway. “I thought after weeks of both your mother and I trying to get ahold of you…I’d come to the school to find you myself.”

“Dad…” she breathed out feeling her heart pounding inside of her chest. “I was gonna…”

“You were gonna what?” her father snapped, catching the way she looked to Jamie and Jamie gave her a confused look. “You just think that you can up and take off? That’s not how things work little lady. I’m still your fucking father. You can’t just run away from me and expect that nothing is going to happen.”

Y/N back stepped when her father moved forward. Swallowing down hard, she realized she was terrified of her father. The last time he was around her he had beaten her so badly that it took weeks to even heal slightly. Her father’s eyes shifted and looked to Jamie again before he cracked a smile, “So is this pretty boy the guy? The one that made you ruin your whole fucking life.”  

“What guy?” Jamie stammered looking between Y/N and her father. “I’m her teacher. Y/N is one of my students and…”

“You’ve got the necklace there. Did he get it fixed for you?” her father looked to the necklace that Y/N had in her fingertips and she quickly shoved it into her pocket. Her father’s attention turned to Jamie who seemed confused by her father’s reaction to seeing her. “So you’re the guy that took my daughter away from us, huh? The one that made her the little slut that she is.”

“Whoa!” Jamie held his hands up in defense when her father made that kind of claim. When her father moved in the direction of Jamie, Y/N tried to grab his arm to keep him from going after Jamie. “Up until this moment I didn’t even know that your daughter wasn’t living at home anymore sir.”  

“It’s not him dad. He’s just talking to me about class. He really is just…” she tried to explain to only feel her father grab a firm hold of her to slam her firmly against the locker. Her head smacked back against the locker and a cry fell from her lips when he did it. Pain instantly filled the back of her head and the burn from it travelled down from her head toward the base of her skull and neck.

“You are coming home after the game tonight, do you understand me?” her father demanded, his hand grabbing a tight hold of her jaw and she winched out. The sensation of his fingers digging into her flesh made her whimper and could feel her body shaking. An urge to fight back was there, but she was terrified. “You’ve had enough fun as it is. You’re going to get your shit and you are going to come home where you belong. Where you will finish school and then as soon as you are done…”

Y/N tried to pull away from her father only to feel him slam her head back against the lockers again and she whimpered out. Everything began to spin around her and the ache at the back of her head was growing, “Tell me you understand.”

“I’m not coming home, I’m never coming home,” she explained seeing the anger in her father’s eyes growing. “I’m eighteen, I’m never…”

The loud smacking sound filled the air and she hit the ground hard. Covering her head instinctively, she heard the sounds of shuffling and her father was being pulled away from her. Shakily lifting her head, she saw Jamie shoving her father against the hard wall of the school hallway. In the mess, Jamie’s glasses had fallen to the floor and it was clear that he was trying to overpower her enraged father.  

“You are not going to hit one of my students at this school! I don’t care what you practice at your own home, but you are going to get out of this school right now,” Jamie demanded, using his size over her father and she felt her body shaking after everything that happened. “If you don’t, I’m going to call the police right now…and then we’ll see what they think about you knocking around your child in the school hallways.”

Her father seemed to try to break away from Jamie’s grasp and Jamie struggled to keep him where he was until the slam of someone else trapped her father against the wall. Simon had clearly heard the ruckus from his classroom and he was helping Jamie in keeping her father where he was.

“Listen to young Jamie here…don’t let this get out of hand,” Simon demanded, his muscular frame pressed firmly up against her father’s throat. If looks could kill, Y/N would be dead from the glare her father was giving her. When Jamie and Simon released her father, he seemed to want to come at her, but both men kept him back. “Not here…”

“This isn’t over,” her father warned her and Y/N dropped her head down, feeling her face burning after her father’s hit. There was a strong ache at the back of her head and it felt like her face was on fire. Simon was quick to move over to her to try and help her up. Simon moved over to grasp at her face to look where her father had hit her. It was clear he was trying to check the damage that was done.

“Look at me,” Simon could see that her father coming to the school had really messed her up and bad. “Are you alright? You okay?”

She said nothing. She wanted to cry. She wanted to crumble just right there, but she knew that she couldn’t. Simon pulled her into a hug and she could feel her body shaking in his arms. It was clear he was trying to comfort her after what happened, but not much comfort was going to be found in this moment. Without even wanting, her body was shaking. It was uncontrollable.

“I’m going to pack things up, but you stay right here…okay? Are you going to be okay?” Simon grasped at her face and she nodded. His dark eyes stared into hers and she slid down onto the ground when Simon moved back to his classroom.

“Hey…” Jamie scrambled to his knees to make sure that she was okay. “You hit your head pretty good. Are you sure that you are okay?”

Nodding, she avoided looking him in the eyes. While she was mad at him, she was embarrassed. This used to be a man that she looked up to. Someone that she valued the opinion of and the fact he saw what he did made her feel bad about it.

“I had no idea your father was such an asshole,” Jamie informed her with a surprised sound. A small laugh fell from her throat when he said that. Everyone knew her father was an asshole; he clearly just wasn’t paying attention.  Jamie had reached out to comfort her, but clearly thought twice. “Are you really okay?”

Nothing wanted to escape her lips. She didn’t want to talk, but Jamie seemed insistent with trying to make sure she was alright. When she pulled herself away, he took the hint and kneeled back. She felt bad that she was acting this way toward him. He did just try to help her.

“Thank you,” she muttered, looking to him from where she was seated on the ground. Jamie nodded and she saw him reached out to touch her face where her father had hit her. “I’m fine.”

“Let me go get some ice for that and your head,” Jamie motioned her to wait and his heavy sigh filled the air when he left her. Y/N sat alone in the hallway by herself for a moment, pulling her knees up closer to her chest. She was terrified now. With her father’s threat, she didn’t know what to expect and she was absolutely worried. When Jamie returned he handed her over the ice and knelt down in front of her. “I am so sorry.”

“Please don’t,” she begged, watching the way his chiseled jaw flexed when she tried to break away from the conversation. “Not right now.”

--

“Are you okay?” Simon followed Y/N out to the dugout after she had gotten ready. Simon saw Negan talking to a few other girls on the team and Y/N was quiet. Simon was worried after everything because she seemed to really shut down after it happened. “Y/N? I’m not even sure you should be playing after what happened. It could be dangerous.”

“I’m fine,” she whispered and Simon wasn’t exactly convinced. Y/N moved to another part of the bench to sit and Simon moved over to Negan. “We need to talk, it’s very important.”

“Not now,” Negan snorted, looking to Simon with a glare. Simon huffed heavily and reached for Negan. “I have no interest in talking to you right now Simon. Fuck off.”

Negan moved around Simon and went to go get ready, but Simon grabbed a hold of Negan to pull him away from the dugout. Negan grunted when Simon shoved him toward the parking lot area, “You know I have a fucking game to coach, right?”

“I don’t think Y/N should be playing tonight,” Simon urged Negan and Negan rolled his eyes at the comment. “What the fuck is that face for?”

“Trust me, she’s fine,” Negan blew off what Simon was trying to tell him and Simon gave him a frustrated expression. “Whatever you think is going on, isn’t going on, okay?”

“I’m telling you…” Simon began when he felt something small running into him and he looked down to see that a young boy had run right into him before falling onto the ground. The little boy let out a goofy laugh when he pushed the large baseball cap on his head up. “You okay there kiddo?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” the little boy giggled when Negan gave Simon a glare and knelt down to check on the boy.

“You’re going to have to forgive my friend here, he doesn’t pay attention to anything,” Negan smiled brightly as the dark eyes of the boy stared out at him. The young boy had clothes on from the school, but they were at least two sizes too big for him. “So you’re a fan of the team, huh?”

“I guess,” the boy pushed at his hat once more and let out a frustrated sound when it fell over his eyes again. “My mom got me this stuff and it doesn’t fit. I think that’s why I ran into the giant.”

“The giant?” Simon repeated the little boy’s words and the boy’s laugh filled the air. “I’m not…that big.”

“Nah, that wasn’t your fault. Simon here just doesn’t pay attention where he was going. Giants are like that,” Negan winked and heard Simon huff. Negan glanced up at Simon and snickered before Negan reached out to grab the hat on the little boy’s head. He turned it so it was backwards on the boy’s head. “There you go; I think that’s going to be better for you. That way you can see where you are going. My name is Negan. What’s your name?”

“Asher,” the boy reached his small hand out to Negan who shook the boy’s hand.

“Well it’s nice to meet you Asher, but I don’t think you should be running around alone. You seem a bit young for that. Where is your mom?” Negan looked around expecting to find a mother desperately searching for their son.

“I’m seven Negan. I’m fine,” Asher rolled his eyes and pulled himself up to his feet. “I can take care of myself.”

“This is where I agree with Negan. As a father myself, I think we need to find your parents,” Simon agreed with Negan seeing the little boy frown and fold his arms in front of his chest. “Where was your mom last Asher?”

“Right here,” Negan looked over his shoulder to see Sherry standing behind him. Asher ran around Negan to go stand beside Sherry.

“You? You’re his mom? You’re a mother?” Negan snorted in amusement, getting up from the ground to face Sherry.   

“What does that mean?” Sherry snapped and Negan shrugged. He made an exaggerated frown, but he wasn’t surprised that she was the kind of mother that would just let their child roam around a busy place with a bunch of strangers. “I knew where he was.”

“No you didn’t,” Asher stated with a laugh and she reached out to wrap her hand around her son’s mouth which caused Asher to snicker.

“I was getting things from the car. I knew the general area he was in,” Sherry clearly lied and pulled Asher in closer to her. He let out a tight breath almost acting like she was choking him with pulling him closer. It was clear her son was a bit over dramatic, but Negan found it charming. “I don’t really think you have the right to judge me as mother Negan.”

“He might not, but I sure as hell do,” Simon snorted, pressing his hands in over his hips. “I’m not the best father in the world and I will never be the first person to claim that I am, but at the end of the day I would never let my child run around a place like this alone.”

“We have to get to our seats Asher,” Sherry urged her son when she heard a whistle and looked over her shoulder to see her boyfriend waiting for them. “Good luck during the game today.”

“Thanks,” Simon waved sarcastically and Negan snickered while she walked away. “Leave it to her to name her son something ridiculous like that.”

“Hey, he seems like a good kid. He can’t help that his mom is a nut,” Negan answered with a heavy sigh before looking to Simon again. “I’m just having a hard time picturing her as a mother. Oh well, what were you bringing me out here for again?”

“Why do you even think she still comes to the games? I thought she was desperately seeking your dick, but with her having a child and a boyfriend…” Simon’s nose wrinkled in disgust.

“Because that kept you from fucking other people…” Negan rolled his eyes and when Simon realized what Negan said, he let out an agitated sound. “I don’t like Sherry. She’s a nut, but you can’t say it’s alright for you, but say it’s awful for her to want to fool around just because she’s a woman.”

“I’m not saying that Negan,” Simon retorted with a growl. “I’d really rather talk to you about the real reason…”

Before Simon was able to talk to Negan people were calling for him to return because the game was about to start. Simon let out a frustrated sound after he clearly tried to tell Negan again about Y/N’s father showing up and her being attacked.

Once Negan was back to the dugout, most of the team was already out on the field and Negan saw Y/N sitting on the bench. Her head was slumped down and Negan called out her name, “What are you doing?”

She stood up from the bench and walked up to Negan. When he saw the bruise over her face, he reached up to try and touch her, but she pulled away from him. Clearly, she wanted none of his concern. Her eyes searched his for a moment before he felt her reaching for his wrist. Negan looked when she put the necklace he had given her in the palm of his hand.

“I don’t want this anymore,” she informed him with a whisper and he let out an annoyed breath. 

Negan went to say something more, but she moved out on the field with the rest of the team. Negan let out a frustrated grunt before sliding the necklace into his pocket. Y/N had avoided him for most of the game and every time he tried to talk to her, something took place. At the end of the game, Negan had waited for most people to leave. When Negan saw Y/N take off to get her things, he went to follow her and Simon stopped him again.  

“I have more important things going on right now,” Negan went to answer when Simon shoved him back firmly to get him to listen.

“Her father showed up Negan!” Simon firmly caught Negan’s attention for the first time. “He showed up and he knocked her around really well. Right in the fucking school hallways too.”

“What happened?” Negan inquired only to hear the sound of screaming and he felt Simon shoving him aside. Negan quickly followed behind and he saw Y/N’s father yelling at her from the area behind the bleachers.

“You’re going to get your things and you are coming home,” her father repeated what Simon had heard earlier. “You belong at home. Not wherever you have been hiding out. You have no choice in this matter.”

“I’m not coming with you,” Y/N refused, trying to keep a level head about things as Negan went to move forward and Simon blocked him from approaching. “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to put up with this anymore. I’m eighteen and I don’t have to take you abusing me anymore.”

“You are going to come home…now,” her father demanded and Y/N continued to refuse. After their bickering for a few more moments, Y/N’s father shoved her firmly and she stumbled to the hard concrete. “Listen you ungrateful shit…you don’t have a fucking say in this.”

“I’ve had enough,” Negan moved forward when her father reached for her wrist and before Negan could make a move he watched Simon boldly step forward to slam his fist into the side of her father’s face. Her father hit the ground like a bag of bricks and Simon cussed out, grasping his hand after the hit. The people that were still there went completely silent and waited in shock as her father started moving slowly.

“You…fucking…hit me,” Y/N’s father snarled once he lifted his head up enough to glare out at Simon. “I’m calling the police. You just assaulted me. I’m pressing charges.”

“You can do that, but when you do that I’m going to be sure to get everyone in here who has their phones out to provide the footage of you abusing your daughter. And I’m sure as hell going to include the videos that were in the hallway of you hitting your daughter earlier,” Simon answered, pulling out his cell phone and holding it out. Simon almost mocked her father, dangling his phone in her father’s face. “So please, go ahead and call the cops because then we can actually settle two things here in one.”

Y/N’s father stared up at the phone and gulped. He refused the phone and Simon nodded slowly, “That’s what I thought. I don’t care what happens to me, but I know good lawyers and I’m going to make sure that your daughter never…has to see your face again.”

It took a few for Y/N’s father to get up and finally leave, but when he did everyone seemed to be in awe of Simon. Principle West was waiting to speak to Simon after what happened, but before he left, Simon made sure to apologize to Negan for upsetting him a while back. Principle West asked Y/N to stay back for a while too. The idea of everything made Negan nervous, but he knew that he would be able to trust both Simon and Y/N.  

Negan waited until the stadium was cleared out. He took his time packing his things back into his old Mustang and waited. After what seemed like forever, he pulled down one of the side streets he usually picked Y/N up and texted her where he would be waiting for her. There were so many things going through Negan’s mind as he waited. The anger that Simon was the one that actually got to deck Y/N’s father, as well as…other things. It seemed like hours had passed by the time that Negan saw Y/N walking down the street to his car. When she got back in, he looked to her with a frown.

“I didn’t know if I’d be picking you up or not,” Negan gulped down firmly and watched her shift uncomfortably in the passenger’s seat. His comment was clearly referring to their fight earlier, but she said nothing. Negan took her silence as a hint to leave her alone and he started driving back toward home. The silence was frustrating him, so he pulled to the side of the road and looked to her. “What happened?”

“They asked me questions about my father. About the abuse I’ve been going through.  They made me make a report about it. Simon was questioned about things and he’s going to be put under probation with close observation until the end of the school year. That’s only with the school,” she answered blankly and Negan reached out to touch the side of her face where the bruise developed under her cheekbone. “He found me earlier when I went to the locker. Jamie was talking to me and kind of cornered me. My father showed up while I was talking to him. My father landed a good one on me after slamming me against the lockers a few times. Jamie and Simon were able to get him to leave.”

“Jamie helped you,” Negan felt his neck tense at the thought and she gave him a look that showed she wasn’t impressed with his response. “Of course he fucking did.”

“It’s okay. I was told by Jamie today that I wasn’t one in a million. I was one in a handful that he had met already and that there was absolutely nothing special about me. I was just arrogant and apparently the one that was flirting with him the whole time,” Y/N began, but she didn’t take a pause in thought. “And I was told by you that I don’t care about you or appreciate you. Apparently I’m a fucking gold digger too and after all that happened, I ended up getting decked by my father. Today has been awesome.”

“You’re not a gold digger,” Negan sighed, lifting his hips up enough to reach inside his pocket to grab the necklace. He tried to hand it to her and she refused to take it. “The necklace is yours.”

“I don’t deserve it,” she answered with a loud gulp. Negan frowned and looked to it. “I don’t want it anymore.”

“So what does that mean? Are you breaking up with me or something?” Negan snapped and she shrugged.

“Is that what you want?” she inquired and Negan’s thick brows arched up when she asked him that. “I’m clearly not a good enough girlfriend. I don’t deserve that necklace. I don’t want it until you think I deserve it.”

“I bought it for you, I clearly thought you deserve it,” Negan growled and yet she still refused to take the necklace.

“You did then, now you don’t,” she slid down in the seat and Negan gave her a confused look. “I don’t know how to be the girlfriend that you want. I clearly have made a lot of mistakes.”

“Listen, I know your father just fucked with your mind…okay? But this is ridiculous,” Negan snorted, hitting the steering wheel of the car. The hit made her jump and he could tell that she was still on edge. “This is absolute bullshit, I hope you know that!”

“Okay,” she nodded and Negan could feel his blood boiling. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Negan snorted and she shrugged her shoulders. “I guess I should be the one apologizing. We can’t all be Jamie and step in to be your fucking hero.”

“Fuck you Negan,” she snapped, finally breaking the blank, emotionless expression she had with him. “He was being an asshole to me, but stepped in when my father hit me. He fucking hit me hard in the middle of the school hallway.”

“And I’m sorry that happened, but it still doesn’t hide the fact that you handed me over the necklace that I dropped a fortune on…for you,” Negan pointed out and she shook her head. She covered her eyes and Negan felt his heart pounding inside of his chest. “Simon got to do everything I wanted today. I want to fucking kill your father. I have thought of hundreds of different ways to do it, but I know I can’t.”

“You know you told me that you would never let anyone hurt me, right?” she reminded him and Negan let out a tense laugh. “Yet…here we are again.”

“Like I was supposed to know that your father was going to show up and fucking hit you,” Negan snapped and she looked to him with saddened eyes. “If I would have been there I would have fucking killed him and you know it. I was talking about Jamie and how I wouldn’t let him hurt you.”

Y/N said nothing as Negan reached for her hand, but she pulled it back and away from him, “Take the fucking necklace.”

“I thought it was a token of your love. Then I thought maybe after all this fighting it was an item that laid claim on me. That proved I was yours,” she looked to the necklace dangling from Negan’s thick fingers. “Now I just know that it’s something you thought you had to give me to impress me. Something you thought would keep me interested. I loved you before I ever found out you had fucking money.”

“So what if it shows that you are mine?” Negan snapped, looking to the white golden chain. “You…are…mine.”

“And I’m very aware of that,” she agreed, swallowing down hard. “But there are other parts of me that prove that Negan. I don’t need that necklace to prove I’m yours. I don’t want that necklace until you think I deserve it.”

“Fuck it…” Negan grumbled to himself, raising his hips back up to push it back into his pocket.

“Are we fucked up because I agreed to have a meeting with Mr. Moore? Because if that’s why I wish I could take it all back. I do. I realize the mistake I made. I know what I did was wrong,” she explained with a heavy breath, her voice cracking as Negan stared out at her. “I want to believe that’s the reason why we’re messed up here, but it sounds like you’ve been angry at me for longer than that.”

“I’m not angry at you. I’m just asking you to acknowledge all I’ve done for you,” Negan snapped and she looked to him still with confusion in her eyes. “I’m asking you to see everything I’ve done for you. Your father today should have given you a taste of that. Showed you what you would still be going through if you didn’t have me in your life.”

“I’ve given up a lot for you too you know,” she pointed out with a hard swallow. “I stopped focusing on school as much. I left everything that I had to come and live with you. I gave you my virginity…”

“You basically threw that shit at me,” Negan reminded her and she turned away from him with a frustrated breath. “You know what happens to you if people find out about us? They say, oh that awful man took advantage of you, but it’s okay. You’ll grow and get over this. I become the villain. I become the bad guy.”

There was a silence that pressed in over them and she gave him an odd look. Negan squeezed at the wheel before rolling his eyes, “Fuck this…”

Negan started the car back up and started heading back for home. Hearing Y/N shifting in the seat beside him, he felt her lifting up the arm on the front seat. Negan grunted when he felt her hand running over the front of his pants and he glanced in her direction.

“What are you doing?” Negan rumbled feeling her fumbling with his pants, managing to get them open enough to push the sides apart. “Y/N…stop…”

Negan let out a tight breath when she lowered her head down toward his lap while he drove. Her mouth wrapped around the tip of his cock when she managed to pull him out of his pants. Negan let out a panicked sound while her hand pumped over his length and her tongue lapped at his body. Negan looked to his lap to see her head bobbing over his length, attempting to get him hard.

“Fuck,” Negan groaned, lowering his right hand to press it in over her shoulders. “You shouldn’t be doing that. You don’t want to die.”

“Then make sure you don’t get us killed,” she slurred after pulling her mouth away from Negan’s hardening erection. He let out an uncomfortable breath while he continued to drive back toward home after she lowered her head back down toward his lap.

Negan had a hard time focusing while she continued to give him a blowjob and he probably found himself driving home faster than he should have. He fought the temptation to close his eyes and let out a moan while she skillfully used her mouth and tongue in unison. The muscles in his abdomen twitched and he squeezed tighter to the wheel as she took him deeper within her throat. “Fuck me.”

Once he pulled in the driveway, he reached for her to pull her from his length and a wet sound filled the air. Negan reached for her hips and pulled her in over his lap. He quickly shuffled to get the back of her pants pushed down her body before pulling her back in over his lap with her back to his chest. Negan hastily reached between them to grab a hold of his body to lead it into hers. Her wince filled the air as he urged her hips down over his. He didn’t take his time; he urged her body over his again and again. The smacking of their skin filled the car while he helped urge his hips up toward hers.

“God, you are full of fucking surprises, aren’t you?” Negan hissed, reaching up to grab a tight hold of her jaw while she rocked her hips over his length continuously. Negan used his other hand to sink between her thighs to caress over her clitoris in circular motions. There was a determination in the way she brought her hips over his and it was clear she was trying desperately to get him to cum. Negan lowered his head to watch her body bouncing over his and he let out a small roar. “I’m gonna cum…”

She kept up with her pace even after he could feel her body clenching around his, giving way to show that she had clearly had an orgasm. Negan moaned feeling his body twitching beneath her while the long strands of his cum filled her. Negan’s head dropped back, his jaw flexing when he continued to help her bounce her hips over him until the end of his orgasm. She fell forward against the wheel and Negan leaned in to press kisses at the back of her neck. When she lifted her hips from him, his cock pulled from her body smacking up against his lower abdomen. Looking down, he noticed the mess they made and reached for a napkin to clean himself off. The sound of her pulling her pants together was heard and Negan looked to her with his this eyebrows arching up.

“What was that for?” Negan grunted, watching her lean back to rest her head against the window. Negan felt his heart pounding inside of his chest while he worked to get his pants back together.

“It’s the only way I know how to make you happy anymore,” she answered and he let out an uncomfortable sound, his eyes narrowing out at her while she clearly caught her breath. Negan cussed to himself when he realized what he had done and watched her reach for her bag. She brushed her fingers through her hair while Negan looked her over. “I’ll…go get some dinner ready. You uh…take your time."

Y/N got out of the car and once she made it into the house, he reached out to punch the wheel firmly hearing the honk fill the air. Negan hissed at the thought of them fighting. The fact that she felt the only way to make him happy with her anymore was to fuck him or to give him a blowjob made him feel bad. He knew he should have felt worse than he did about everything. He just was letting everything get to him and he knew he’d truly fucked up this time.

Moving into the house, Negan stopped at the front door to watch Y/N from where he was standing at the front of the house. She seemed to be gathering some things in the kitchen for dinner and he closed the door. Making his way to the kitchen, he moved in behind her and felt her freeze up when he slid his hands in over her hips. His nose nestled against the side of her neck and he heard her breathe heavily.

“You…you make me happy,” Negan informed her with a long breath, his lips pressing a small kiss against the side of her neck. It was quiet. She didn’t respond and he knew that she didn’t believe him. Sighing heavily, he wrapped his arms around her from behind and held her close. “Maybe we should go back to not having sex for a while…the fact you think fucking is the only thing that makes me happy makes me sad.”

“It makes me sad that you think I don’t love and appreciate you,” she sniffled and Negan could tell that she was upset. He turned her in his arms to face him and he could see that she was crying. Instinctively his hands reached up to cup at her face and he frowned. “I don’t know how else to prove to you that I love you. The fact you think as soon as I find something I’m going to leave you breaks my heart.”

“Baby…I’m so fucking jealous,” Negan informed with a short breath. “I never wanted to dive into a relationship again and now that I have…I’m getting…fucking paranoid. I don’t want to share you with anyone else. I’m used to being with you every day and the idea of that not being what happens soon is going to fucking kill me.”

“What do you have to be jealous over? I’m the one that is lucky to have you,” she brushed her fingertips into his dark hair when he dropped to his knees in front of her. He cuddled his head up against her abdomen and she felt confused. “If anything, I should be worried. You’re the only man I’ve ever been with. You’re the only man I want to be with.”

“All I want…is you,” Negan lifted his head to look up at her from where he was kneeling. “The idea of someone else trying to have you makes me so mad. I get so fucking jealous and when I’m jealous…I don’t think right.”

“Were you…” she began, almost thinking twice before speaking again, “Were you jealous with Lucille?”

“Lucille was married to me. I wasn’t jealous, she was mine,” Negan insisted before crawling back up to his feet. Cupping her face in his hands, he forced her to look at him and he shook his head. “I learned my mistakes with Lucille. I loved her so fucking much, but I blamed her for the faults in my life. I cheated, but I would never…ever do that with you.”

“But you are having reason to no longer want me. To think that I don’t love you…” she felt him hush her, his lips pressing in over hers to silence her in a way. Negan’s forehead rest against hers and she could tell he was doing his best to comfort her. “I don’t want to lose you Negan.”

“You’ll never lose me,” Negan tried to assure her, his rough hands caressing over her jawline. “I love you too damn much. You’ve fucking ruined me for everyone else. I’m hooked as hell on you. No matter how awful of a man that makes me. That’s why I’m acting like this; I don’t want to lose you. I’m afraid of things taking you away from me. Mr. Moore…a college so far away…”

“Nothing could take me away from you Negan,” she shook her head and felt him leaning in to nestle his nose against the side of her neck again. “I wish you would just believe me.”

“I’m scared…” he breathed against the side of her neck. “I’m scared of the thought of you realizing how awful I am and to want something more. To want to be more and shit…I’m not a good partner. I’m a fucking mess…you’re going to see that one day.”

“Like I’m not a mess,” she laughed in an amused breath. “My family brings so much baggage to the table Negan.”

“Please…” Negan pulled the necklace from his pocket and watched her eyes shift to look at it. “Please put this back on.”

“Not yet,” she denied his suggestion and he frowned pulling his body away from hers enough to look her over. “I want you to give it to me when you trust me again. When you feel like we were what we once were. I would have forever been in love with poor Negan. I don’t want this Negan to think I want him only for that.”

She lowered his hand and saw the confused expression. Tipping up on her toes she kissed him over and over again. His hum of approval filled the air before she pulled away to lower her head against his chest. Negan caressed his hand over the back of her neck, almost shocked that she was still denying him in taking the necklace.

“I’m scared I’m never going to get away from my father,” she shivered in his arms and he in that moment pushed aside his jealousy and rage. She was terrified and he could tell that she thought her father would keep pushing at things. “I don’t want him to take me away from you.”

 “That would never happen. Of all the things to worry about, that will never ever happen,” Negan assured her, hushing her when he caressed over her shoulders. “I love you so much Y/N. I’m just jealous, but I swear…I would never, ever let that happen.”

[duker42]

💜Cure for Insomnia💜 Part 2 of 2 Levi x Reader

💜Cure for Insomnia💜 Part 2 of 2

Part 1

Y/N’s POV:

He always looks younger than his age, but when he’s not frowning, it gives him an air of innocence. He has been asleep for the last three hours. His breathing is steady, rhythmic. I have quietly observed him since falling asleep. Not wanting to disturb him, I haven’t moved. But then again, it’s not like watching him is a hardship.

While not everyone would consider the cold, distant Captain attractive, Levi appeals to me. His ear length raven colored locks cover his face, and his undercut is alway fresh looking. The stormy grey eyes that impassively observe are hard to look away from, even when he glares at you. While he is considered short by most, I don’t understand why people comment on it. Extremely fit, his lean, muscular body screams with the results of his years of training and fighting. If he were more approachable, I would pursue a relationship with him. I scoff to myself, it more likely that the titans will suddenly stop eating humans.

I suddenly realize that those grey eyes have been watching me for Lord only knows how long. I meet his eyes steadily as I resist the urge to blush. It’s not like I wasn’t ordered by the Commander to watch him. I have no reason to feel embarrassed, even if my thoughts weren’t professional.

“Did I sleep long enough for you to leave me alone?” He asks, his voice husky from the sleep.

“You slept for about three hours. That isn’t a full night’s sleep sir.” I carefully answer, unsure of what mood he wakes up in.

“It is for me. It’s the most I’ve slept in one go in weeks.” He sits up and rotates his shoulders. Getting up, he begins to pull on his uniform.

“Sir, please don’t.” I stop him by putting a hand on his arm. Looking at me, he silently demands to know why. “Dress in casual clothes, something more comfortable that the constricting uniform. Do you have sleep pants or shorts?”

Grumbling he goes to his wardrobe and digs through it. Pulling out a pair of older grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt, he holds them up to me for approval. When I nod, he quickly dresses and puts his uniform away neatly.

Marching out of his room, I see him settle himself behind his desk. Picking up a pen, he begins to work on the stacks of paperwork taking up real estate on his desk. I look at him, frowning in disapproval. “Captain, you aren’t supposed to being doing paperwork.” The stubborn man doesn’t even spare me a glance. “Y/N, I enjoyed the little massage, and I slept for a few hours. I feel better than I have in weeks. I have had issues sleeping practically my entire life, so it’s as good at it’s going to get for now. Either pick up some paperwork and help or get some sleep.”

I sighed. I knew this was going to take time. But I won’t push it the first night. Settling on his couch, I drift off to sleep, letting the sounds of the pen scratching against the paper relax me. I woke up with the sun starting to rise through the window in his office. A blanket was covering me and a steaming cup of tea sat before me on the table beside the sofa. Levi was not in the office. Sitting up and rubbing my eyes, I look around, and turn when the door to his bedroom opened and the Captain walked out, his pristine uniform in place as he finishes tying his cravet around his neck.

“Good, your awake. the tea is for you. Don’t worry, I’ve only had the one cup of tea when I got yours. Go take a shower and get ready. Breakfast is in thirty minutes.” He walks to his desk and sits down. “Meet me back here after you finish getting ready.”

**Time Skip**

After spending the day running through Captain Levi’s schedule, I am unsure how the man doesn’t sleep. From the paperwork, to cleaning, to the squad training, to his own personal three hour workout, I am ready to drop from just trying to keep up with him.

Resting my head against my propped up hand, I’m honestly too tired to eat. Lazily pushing the food around on my plate, I feel Levi nudge me. Turning my tired eyes on him, he motions down to my plate and just says, “Eat.”, and continues his own meal.

On our way back to his office, he stops in the hallway and turns to me. “Go and get something to change into.” Rolling his eyes at my bewildered expression, he explains. “You’re observing me again, right idiot? Might as well be comfortable.”

After grabbing my necessities for a shower and changing, I find myself back in the Captain’s office. Empty, I use the opportunity to browse the collection of novels on the bookshelf by the fireplace. Surprisingly, its shelves are lined with a broad range of novels, scientific journals and even how-to manuals. It seems that he either likes to appear well read, or Levi has an intense love for absorbing the written word. Choosing a book, I thumb through the well worn pages, stopping to read passages that catch my attention.

When a door opening breaks my immersion in the crime thriller, I look up to see the Captain dressed in loose lounging pants and shirt. Toweling his wet hair, he motions behind him. “Shower is free. A towel’s on the counter.” I grab my bag and towards the bedroom, when he places a hand on my shoulder, stopping me. “I, uhhhh, took a longer shower tonight. So you can count it as relaxing.” Nodding, I walk past him and close the door.

As I strip and stand under the hot spray of water, a small grin crosses my face, wondering if the Captain took a longer shower than normal because he took my other advice. This would be the place for it if he did. A red tint covers my body that has nothing to do with the water temperature as my mind wanders. Images of Levi standing here leaning against the wall with water cascading down his body fill my mind. His elegant hand, roaming his body with no intention of cleaning, stopping when it reaches it’s destination and begins to stroke the ridged skin....Shaking my head, I push the thoughts away and quickly run through my showering ritual.

Dressing, I repack my bag and tidy the bathroom, going as far as wiping down the shower stall for the notoriously fastidious man. I place the dirty towel in the proper basket and walk back to his office, expecting to battle with him over working after dinner.

To my pleasant surprise, I find the Captain seated on his sofa. A tea set placed on the table before it and beside the tray, an elegantly carved chess set. Walking towards him, I cock an eyebrow at the tea set, sending him a questioning look.

“Before you start, it’s camomile” He grumbles as he pours two cups. Handing one to me, he sits back and takes a sip. “Do you play?” He questions, nodding towards the chess pieces.

“I do, but not very well I’m afraid.”

“Good, I’m tired of Eyebrows winning. Let’s play.”

We spend several hours pouring over the board, strategizing and sacrificing pawns to advance. Although most of the time is silent, Levi surprises me by randomly throwing out questions in his blunt manner.

“Are you trying to distract me?” I question after the latest question from him about my life, as I contemplate my next move.

Clicking his tongue, he moves a Bishop into position. “Idiot, I can be social.” Causing me to laugh at the rude answer.

After beating me for the third time, he stands and begins to pack away the set. Walking to the bookshelf to place it back in it’s proper place, he orders “Go get ready for bed.”

Not moving, I try to understand his reasoning behind his demand. Turning back towards me he frowns at my lack of movement. “Y/N, go get ready for bed.” His voice a bit harsher, more authoritative. Silently, I demand an explanation from him. This is my observation and I was the one in charge.

Sighing, he pinches the bridge of his nose as he explains. “You are exhausted. You need to sleep.” He holds a hand up to stop me before I can do more than open my mouth to argue. “I will go lay down with you on that shitty bed. I won’t leave it, I swear. I will keep track of how long I stay awake for you. Now, please go.”

Realizing he’s right, that I have to get some sleep, I get up and go to the bathroom to get ready for bed. When I come out, the sheets have been turned down, ready to me to slide into them. Levi quickly preforms his own nightly ritual and comes over to bed, sitting on the edge. Turning to look at me, his eyes search mine for discomfort at the situation. Finding none, he turns back and extinguishes the lamp, throwing the room into darkness. Laying back, I feel him fold his hands behind his head and breathe slowly, relaxing his body. Drowsy, I turn to face away from him, quickly falling into a deep sleep after muttering a quiet “Goodnight.”

**Time Skip**

Slowly opening my eyes, I wake up. Confusion clouds my mind at the unfamiliar room. As I blink and the fog of sleep lifts, I remember falling asleep beside Levi. Soft light filters through the edges of the dark curtains, signifying the beginning of a new day. I wonder how many hours Levi let me sleep while he laid next to me. As I go to move, I realize there is a weight, holding me in place. Reaching down, I feel a warm arm around my stomach, fingers gripping my side. A body, radiating heat, pressed up against my backside, and a cold foot in between mine own warm feet. His face is pushed into the back of my neck, the hot air washing over me as he breathes out. Stirring slightly, he pulls me closer to him as he burrows down into my neck and innocently rubs against me in his sleep. A small contented hum comes from his chest as he settles back down.

Smiling to myself, I relax into the mattress. I can question him when he wakes. Still, being awake causes me to shift more than I would if I were asleep. Trying to stretch my back out a bit causes me to freeze. When I moved, Levi responded in his sleep, nudging a certain part of his body against my butt. Moving again to try and get comfortable, he brushed against me again with slightly more force. Red faced, I vow to lay like a statue until he wakes up, not wanting to explain why I caused him to grind his ‘morning salute’ against me if he were to wake up now.

Not too much later, a low groan comes from the raven haired man as he begins to stir. Tightening his arm around me, I feel his muscles contract with a small stretch, and his long lashes tickle my neck as he opens his eyes.

“Good morning.” I call out softly.

Humming slightly he begins to pull away from me, rolling over onto his back. Following him, I turn onto my side, facing him. He closes his eyes again and lets out a sigh.

“Damn...” is all he says.

Pushing myself up, I prop on an elbow and look at him.

“I fell asleep right after you did.”

When I didn’t respond, he looks over and snorts at my shocked expression.

“Yeah, I never would have believed it either. You said goodnight and immediately fell asleep. I remember rolling onto my side and that was it.” He continues, shooting a quick glance over to me before looking back up at the ceiling.

“Huh....that’s great! You just slept for 9 hours! How do you feel?” In my enthusiasm, I wiggle closer to him, wide eyed and smiling.

Rolling his eyes at me he grumbles. “Fine. I slept great. Now I have another damn problem.”

I tilt my head in confusion. What’s the problem? He slept for a full night! If we can repeat it tomorrow, he’s on his way to being fully rested.

Glowering at me he spits out. “Are you going to sleep next to me every night?”

“Oh.....well....ummmm” I can’t think of what to say.

“Yeah....Even if you did agree to sleep next to me, that just causes me more problems.” Levi’s voice is low, mumbling as if embarrassed.

“What’s the other problem?”

Looking at me incredulously, he shakes his head. “Really? I know you felt it.”

“Oooooohhhhhh” I blush as I realize exactly what he is referring to. Quickly waving away his concern I reply. “That’s natural. Don’t worry about that.”

Turning towards me and propping up to look me the eyes, his next words excite me. “Not for me. Especially since I ‘relaxed’ in the shower last night.”

“Well, we are adults.” I ventured, looking away from him. “I cured your insomnia, I’m sure I can cure your other issue, if you want.”

Pulling me closer to him, he rubs against me, pushing his issue against my hip. “Oh I want.”

The End.

Mobile MasterList

@emilyackerman78

[runin-reads]

❛ under my umbrella ❜

— tendou x reader oneshot

W/C: 1.5 k

TAG(S): @mushfairy​ since this is a collab with her!

SYNOPSIS: “So what do you say, Sa-to-ri? You up for the challenge?

“You’re on”, he replies with a grin.

In which you jokingly challenge Tendou to perform in the up-coming talent show. You don’t think he’s actually going to do it, and Tendou is hell bent on proving you wrong. 

Inspired by this song and performance

Breathe, you’ve got this.

Tendou is out backstage, waiting his turn to perform for the long-anticipated talent show. The other dancers, both male and female, are waiting alongside him, waiting with bated breath. The vocalists, the bands, and the stand-up comedians have already performed. There’s only one more performance from the martial arts committee to really get the adrenaline pumping within the audience. After they finish, Tendou and the rest of the Miyagi City Dance Crew would debut to the awaiting crowd. 

He catches your eye from a gap between the curtains from where you’ve just been seated at the front row, and he thinks he’s not doing a bad job at facing your challenge.

“And up next, it’s the Miyagi city dance crew, dancing to singing in the rain by Gene Kelly,” the announcer declares. 

Make the audience yours. Dance as if you own the stage and the complete attention of the people watching you.

There was a silence… and then the curtains were drawn. 

There he is, Tendou Satori in the flesh, wearing a pinstripe suit and a smart, wide brimmed hat. The music playing was cheerful and vintage, the smooth, velvety vocals echoing through the stage as he skipped about with a spring in his step and hand on his hat. He knows this is just the beginning. He does a good job at spinning around and tapping his feet, putting on a show for all eyes to see. Underneath his hat, his eyes are shining. Underneath the grip of his hand, is an umbrella.

The music changes. It changes into a steady beat led by percussion that duels with breath-taking vocals, as lights flash and fellow dancers in black bodysuits come on stage from the sides. The song that’s playing now is Umbrella by Rihanna, and when Tendou comes out from behind a wall of umbrellas --that are held courtesy of his teammates-- his suit is off, he has the same umbrella in hand, and on his body? A fucking leather bodysuit that ends mid-thigh.

He looks like a hired dancer for a private show. Along his shoulders are thin leather straps attached to an equally as black tank top, leading down to shiny shorts that streamline his body and draws attention to his actions in a way that the old volleyball uniform fails to do; tight enough to showcase his figure, not enough to restrict movement. There are frills along the hem of the shorts that put emphasis on his legs, the same legs that are covered in fishnets that lead down to black ankle boots. The lingering stares he earns makes him feel like a palace courtesan from a time long gone, but that doesn’t matter right now.

Make the audience yours. 

Tendou repeats the words in his head, and does exactly that.

The crowd is already cheering, high-pitched whistles and excited whoops that get drowned out by the music. Tendou starts strutting to the beat and steps into a new persona. Tonight he isn’t the ex- middle blocker of one of the best volleyball teams of the nation; he's just Tendou Satori, a red-haired dancer tasked with making the entire venue fall to their knees. 

With the electrifying music that’s just the right blend of passion and longing, he turns his body into a weapon of well-practiced moves, a weapon of seduction set to kill. He doesn’t have time to contemplate the wide-eyes of his friends, or the way his movement made your jaw drop -- because whatever it is you’re feeling at the moment, he doesn’t think it’s disgust.

Instead, he throws himself into his dancing, as if he was part of the dance club he teamed up with, as if he was born to move for his lover, for you and only you. His legs strut to the music and his hips move like even Shakira can’t match his tempo. He’s constantly on the move, dropping down to run a hand up his leg, throwing his head back and moving his torso to do a complete body roll that’s directed towards flushed faces and parted mouths. He’s spinning the umbrella between nimble fingers, and holding that same umbrella between his legs as he sways his body to the beat.

He falls deeper into the mania of the performance. He dances in sync with the rest of the crew. The flashing lights and the roaring crowds become a blur once he really gets into it; it’s as if he’s in his world, it’s as if the only spotlight is on him and you and whatever lies in between. Tendou wants to cross that distance, and so he does. 

“You can run into my arms

it’s okay don’t be alarmed

come into me…”

Rihanna sings with a voice that’s straight from the heart, and as if on cue he cat-walks to the edge of the stage where you’re sitting close-by, he does so with his head thrown back and his glistening neck on display. His arms are wide open as if sending an invitation:

Are you really that unaffected? Why don’t we find out, he seems to say, even with his mouth shut and in the form of a tantalizing grin. 

He doesn’t look for an answer to this question. Rather, he drops to the ground, onto his back, and arches his back upwards in order to feel the burn of leather across his ribs. His eyes flit to your face, he sees the stiffness in your jaw, sees your knuckles clutching onto the armrests for dear life, sees your usual icy eyes and is faced with nothing but fire. He doesn’t glance at your face again, he lets you burn. He slinks back into the formation, and continues his performance. In the background, Rihanna continues her heartfelt singing:

“So gon' and let the rain pour

I'll be all you need and more…”

Following the bellowing voice, the dance becomes more intense and all of a sudden there’s water pouring down, supplied from the special effects team. Tendou uses the water to his advantage, splashing it forward using his hand, slicking his hair back with the streams running down his body. 

He ends the routine with a forward flip onto his back that quite literally knocks the breath out of him and the people watching. There’s a definite roar as the audience responds, people screaming names, shouting their disbelief and throwing out compliments like it’s going out of style. He sits up as blasts of confetti are falling through the air, streams and whirlwinds of different colors obscuring his vision, yet the only color he can focus on is the red of your cheeks and your smile which may as well be a whole fucking rainbow on it’s own.

That’s enough, Tendou thinks. You’re all I needed to see.

Now that the performance is done with, there’s only one thing left to do:

He takes the umbrella that was lying on the floor, he opens it and holds it up his head. With a low bow to the audience, he links arms with his brothers and sisters in arms, and they saunter off of the stage. He feels eyes on the back of his neck and down the curve of his spine. Paired with the sweat on his back and water running down, it feels like he’s become one with the sky and rain. He sends one last lingering look towards you, and with a jerk of his head he manages to convey one simple message:

Meet me outside, I got something to say to you, and because the two of you are in sync, always will be and always have been, that’s exactly what you do. You meet him outside with butterflies in your stomach and your heart on your sleeve. When you finally spot him standing in a warm coat, comfy sweatpants and the same umbrella he used to perform in his hand. You move to make way towards him, only for Tendou to spot you first.

“Hey! So how was my performance, hm? Did ya like it? Did I blow your mind outta the water like I said I would?” he asks excitedly, and you watch with amusement as he waves wildly before making his way towards you. 

“I did this for you, ya know. Now do me a favor and can you actually get to the part where you praise me?” The look on his face as he says this is proud, yet underneath you can see a genuine desire to hear your thoughts and words of affirmation.

“You did fucking great, Sato-kun. You fucking killed it and I doubt there’s anyone out there that thinks otherwise.”  You say this with as much adoration as you can, and you stuff your hands in your pockets as he beams at the use of his nickname. 

The two of you start walking home side-by-side, the sound of his voice being enough to drown out the rain. At some point, the rain gets heavier and Tendou’s only response is to use one arm to press you flush against his side. I could stay forver like this, you think, with a warm hand on your shoulder and a familiar face still buzzing with excitement paired with an umbrella overhead to keep you dry from the rain. In the background you hear thunder and you flinch, only for Tendou to lay a hand on your head to tuck you near his chest. From this up-close, you can hear his heartbeat grow steady. From this up-close, you can hear a familiar tune being sang:

“You can stand under my umbrella-ella-ella, eh, eh, eh. Under my umbrella-ella-ella, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh-eh…”

A/N: what do you guys think? I spent a long time on this, so feedback is greatly appreciated. Let me know your thoughts on this, and what I can do to improve. Take care everyone!

- Trish

[upinthestarsx3]

Off Limits (m) part 6

Professor!reader x College student!Jungkook au

Genre: short series|smut|mostly angst|fluff in future|au

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: Explicit language, mature content, including some  masturbation and voyeurism in this chapter.

Summary: You’re fresh out of college having just received your masters degree in Math. You begin working at a nearby college and meet your headstrong student, Jungkook. After a drunk hookup; things get complicated.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

a/n: It’s been so long. Ugh I just fixed so many typos so apologies to anyone who read before I edited lmao. This chapter was fun to write. Enjoy and sorry i’m so flaky with posting more often!

The drive to Jungkook’s house is a blur. You sped through the main road knowing that he would also be on his way home; it was a race that you had to win.

When you arrive, your fingers run over the smooth keypad; trying every combination that might possibly get you into his fancy high tech building.

“Baby.” You hear someone whisper from behind you, letting out heavy breaths as if he’d just ran a mile.

You don’t need to turn back to know that it’s Jungkook, “Leave me alone.” You demand through pursed lips; your fingers still running rapidly on the keypad.

“You’re going to set off the alarm, y/n.” He speaks up again, his tone stern as he held his keycard in his hand. This time you turn towards him, confused that he used your actual name instead of calling you baby; the nickname you grew to love hearing from him.

“Let me in; I need my things.” Your words spill from your mouth like venom, and your glare holds nothing but disgust in them.

“Not until we talk.” He tells you, instead of asking.

A look of disbelief washes over your face, you place your hands on your hips and shake your head from side to side,

“No! I don’t want to talk. I want my things.”

He lets out a loud exhale as he rolls his eyes,

“Y/N, please stop being dramatic. I’m sorry, okay? Where will you go if you leave tonight?” He grills you, walking towards you to take your hand in his; but you quickly snatch it away, catching him off guard. His hand drops to his side, his eyebrows creasing deeply as he takes his keycard and swipes it for you.

The two of you walk quietly side by side to his front door. He reaches for his keys and pauses for a minute; taking a long look at you with fluttering eyes, and you see that same admiration in them.

“What, Jungkook?” You whine, eyes rolling as you quickly break eye contact with him.

“I love you.” He whispers, “and I don’t want you to leave me.”

“I don’t even think you know what love is,” you reply bluntly. He doesn’t acknowledge your insult as he finally opens the door and allows you to walk inside.

He watches you sadly as you gather your things, sitting at the edge of the bed while rubbing his sweaty palms against his jeans.

“Will you stay if I tell you what happened between me and Taehyung? Is that why you’re upset?”

“If you don’t know why I’m upset then we really have nothing to talk about.”

“You always try to make me seem like the problem, y/n. All I do is treat you well and you drag me along like a fucking rag doll because you know I love you.” He mumbles before he breaks into sobs. It takes all your might to stay put and not rush to his side and embrace him until his sadness passes, but you don’t- you refuse to feed into this any longer.

“I’m not going to let you manipulate me. Not this time, Jungkook.” Standing your ground as you hold several boxes in your hand.

“Everyone always fucking leaves me.” He sounds wounded, broken even. You wonder if he’s been this intense since the two of you first started dating.

You stand awkwardly by the door, silent for a few minutes, debating if you should even say anything at all,

“Hey.” You call out to him.

“Just go.” He croaks, turning his face away from you as his tears continue to flow freely.

“Kookie, look at me. This is not healthy. I’m so sorry that I let it go on; I should have never crossed that line. You are my student, and I am your professor. That is all it will ever be from this point forward.”

He rolls his eyes and gives you an incredulous look,

“Baby, you and I both know we can’t go back to that, not after I’ve been inside you-“

“Stop it.” You cut him off, twisting the door knob to leave before glancing back at him once more, telling him, “I don’t like who you’re becoming.”

**

Jungkook skipped 3 classes during the week, no emails, no texts, and no calls. The same paranoia that drove you crazy once before, crept its way back in once again. You hand back quizzes to your class, ignoring the awkward glances from both Jimin and Taehyung.

Are you on campus?

You can’t just keep missing classes.

Stop ignoring me! It’s immature.

He reads every message and leaves you read, which only fuels your anger. You continue class with a smile plastered on your face while you glance to your phone every once in a while.

Halfway through class the door swings open, and in walks Jungkook with another female student whom hasn’t been present from class; and they walk in hand in hand. None of them spare any glances your way and you clench your fists tightly by your sides,

“You two think it’s okay to just walk into class 35 minutes late and not even apologize?” You practically growl.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry. I was distracted, it won’t happen again!” Mina apologizes sincerely. Not that it made you feel any better. You look to Jungkook and raise your eyebrows, waiting for him to explain himself.

“What?” He snaps loudly, embarrassing you as the group of students look from him to you, waiting for your response.

“See me after class,” you reply, turning your back to everyone and facing the board to finish the problem on the board.

“Or what?” He sarcastically talks back, “You’ll punish me?”

You snap your head towards his direction a shocked expression as you watch him lick his lips with low sultry looking eyes- all while having his arm around Mina.

Glancing to your phone you see that it’s 20 minutes too early to end class, but end it anyway,

“Have a good weekend, guys. Remember, midterms next week; I’ll email you all an exact date this weekend.”

Students quickly dart from their seats and out of the classroom, excited for the weekend, presumably.

“Jungkook, I told you to stay after class.” You demand, staring daggers through him. He rolls his eyes dramatically and tells Mina he would text her later.

“Why are you acting like this?” You ask in a small voice, looking away from him and towards the floor.

He stands there and stares down at you, a stoic expression on his face,

“Why am I acting like this? You mean getting together with someone that will actually appreciate me?”

“I meant why are you missing classes, showing up late, and being rude to me in front of everyone.” Of course you were upset about him dating Mina, but you’d never admit that to him. This seems to bother him, his face turning into one of confusion.

“Fuck you, y/n.”

“No fuck you, asshole! I’m so sick of you and your childish games.”

The two of you stand there, arguing in low voices to avoid being heard, like two children.

A knock on the door makes the both of you jump about two feet apart,

“Oh, I’m glad to see the two of you here.” Jin smiles, “y/n, the art competition is on Monday at 7pm, don’t forget. It’s right on campus, first floor in the art building. Jungkook, I’m expecting some great work for the art show from you.” He doesn’t wait for a response before he waves and walks off.

Jungkook begins walking towards the door without another word. This was something you were not used to at all, you had grown accustomed to him always being the one to apologize, admit he’s wrong, and ask for another chance- never did you think he would stop,

“Wait!” You yell out, “I left some things at your house, I’m gonna need to pick them up.” You continue, your voice much lower than before.

“I’ll be with Mina tonight, but you can get them tomorrow night.” He walks out without a goodbye, a smile, or an I love you, and it breaks your heart.

You arrive to the motel you’ve called home for the past week, lying in bed and allowing yourself to finally cry, weeks and weeks of emotions building up, only to be uncaged as you sit on a bed in an empty room, filled with nothing but an 80s style tv and a dresser that had cat claw marks engraved in it.

Grabbing your phone and looking through your contacts you scroll through names of people you haven’t spoken to since college, only stopping when you find Jungkook’s name, labeled as, Kookie.

The phone rings twice before it goes right to voicemail, signaling that he ignored it; which only made you cry more. You quickly begin sending texts to his phone back after back, unconcerned that he would be with his rebound.

“Please talk to me.”

“I’m sorry, okay? I am sorry!”

“Kookie..”

“Please don’t do this to me.”

A half hour passes, and you find yourself walking to nearest place that could get you blackout drunk. You were unbothered that you were now in a bar occupied by drunk young adults no older than 30. You’re too busy impatiently calling the bartender over and asking for three shots, all for yourself, and throwing them back before asking for another round.

“Geez, y/n. Slow down, wait, I can call you y/n, right? Since we’re not on campus?” Jimin’s voice sounds alarms in your head as you turn slowly towards him.

“Just fucking great.” Is your nice way of greeting him back and you place your head in your hands.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, we’re not on campus. Everything okay with Jungkook?” He asks, making your eyes widen and you cringe,

“Please don’t do that, don’t- don’t ask about him. It’s weird.”

“Okay, fine. How about a shot? My treat? I still feel really bad about the whole Taehyung situation.”

You contemplate asking about Jungkook and Taehyung, wondering why they hated each other so much when they apparently used to be like brothers.

“Fine, shots. Your treat.” You smile, still a little uncomfortable, but not enough to turn down free liquor.

“y/n! y/n! Are you okay?” You hear Jimin’s voice echoing as you try to gain your balance, you haven’t drank this much since you turned 21. If you were being honest, you were more of a wine drinker and hated clear liquor.

“I’m fine.” you slur. Smiling his way and ignoring his worried glances.

Towards the back you see a group of people playing beer pong, and you quickly run to join them; Jimin tries to grab your arm but you pull away and walk over to the man who needed a partner.

It wasn’t like you to meet strangers in the bar- hell, bars weren’t even your thing. But here you were, lying on the bar table with your shirt lifted preparing for body shots with your beer pong partner after winning two games in a row.

You soak in the feeling of this man sucking liquor from your stomach and licking his way down to your hips, humming as began leaving kisses there.

You turn your head to glance around the bar, suddenly worried that Jimin might be watching. Instead, you’re met with Jungkook’s wicked eyes. His arms crossed over his chest as he raises his eyebrows accusingly. You quickly jump up from your lying position and push the man away from you as you walk to the door,

“Koo-“

“Don’t talk me, y/n.” He hums defeatedly, helping you to his car and buckling you in,

“Jimin called me and told me you were out of control.”

“I was fine!” You lash out, who did Jimin think he was? Calling Jungkook on you?

He ignores you the rest of the way, and takes you straight to his apartment complex.

“Go brush your teeth. You stink like liquor.”

Pouting at his insult you run into the bathroom, opting to take a shower as well.

“Kookie, please bring me a towel.”

He walks into the bathroom and throws the towel on the counter from the doorway, not even darting his eyes your way. He goes to walk back out and you comment,

“Want to come in?” A hopeful tone in your voice,

“No.” And he slams the door behind him.

His bad attitude made you wish you were back at your lonely motel, he doesn’t want anything to do with you and it tears you apart. The both of you lie in the same bed but he lies down a foot away from you, lying on his back and staring up the ceiling.

“Kookie.” You whisper, turning on your side and reaching out for him. You reach his arm and prepare for him to pull away, but he doesn’t. Sure enough, you slowly scoot your way towards his warm body, and as if it’s instinct, he wraps his arms around you. You don’t dare say anything to ruin this moment, he loves you, and you were beginning to think you loved him back.

In the morning you wake up to an empty bed, your head feels as though it’s weighed down by bricks and you squeeze your eyes shut.

“There’s medicine and water on the night stand, I’m making breakfast. You need to eat.” He smiles softly, the smile doesn’t reach his eyes but it’s a good start.

“Thanks.” Is all you’re able to get out, afraid you might say the wrong thing and set him off.

It stays that way the entire morning, quiet but content. No words are ever needed between the two of you. It was like you spoke through touching, through facial expressions, and through helpful gestures.

You watch him sit in front of his drawing canvas, the stress on his face makes you upset for him. He had only two days to finish his art exhibit work- and he hasn’t even started.

“I don’t know what to do,” he explodes, making you jump from your position on the bed,

“Why don’t you draw a portrait of your dad, you’d automatically win, no one will turn down a school president portrait.

“Shut up.” He laughs; the soft wrinkles near his eyes make your heart melt.

“Maybe you just need some motivation,” you say, standing up from the bed, walking towards him before you stand in front of him, attempting to sit in his lap but he pushes you back down on the bed.

“Seriously? After last night you’re going to try that?”

“Jungkook, how many times do I have to say I’m sorry! I wasn’t myself last night.”

“You haven’t said sorry at all, y/n.” He’s clearly frustrated and you know you’ve screwed up whatever nice moment the two of you were having.

“If you were pleasing me than I wouldn’t have to find it somewhere else.” You snarl. His eyes shoots from his canvas and he purses his lips,

“Then you should learn to please yourself.” He grills you, waiting for another smart comment to come from your lips,

“I don’t- I’ve never done that. I mean, I’ve touched myself but I’ve never-“

“Really?” He questions, a surprised look on his face as he loses interest in the canvas.

“You can teach me.” You beg, pulling his hand and guiding it to the crotch of your shorts, he moves his chair and kneels in front you, rubbing you through the thin material, listening to you let you soft moans. Just as quickly as he started, he stops.

“What the hell.” You meant to yell, but it still comes out as light moan.

“I wanna see you touch yourself.” He bites his lip before sitting back down in front of you.

“Take of your shorts baby.” He guides you, watching your every move. You listen to him, taking it off quickly and throwing it across the room. You reach for your panties but you hear him speak,

“No. You listen to what I tell you to do.” Your eyes light up and you nod your head quickly.

“Pull your panties to the side, I wanna see your pussy.” He shifts in his seat and moves a little closer. Your run your fingers over your slit covered by a laced thong before moving the thin material to the right side.

“What next.” Squirming in your place begging for instruction to please your throbbing womanhood.

“Run a finger between your lips, baby.”

You quickly swipe a finger all the way up to your clit but he smirks,

“Slower.” Dragging out the word, and leaning in to get a better look,

“So pretty.” You look up at him with a smile and see that he’s already palming himself through his jeans,

“Touch your clit. Flick it a little bit, it’ll feel good.” He reassures.

Bringing your index finger to your clit you graze it lightly and arch your back in pleasure, feeling you pussy get wetter.

You look up at him expectantly and see that he’s drawing; looking between you and his canvas. You quickly squeeze your legs shut and sit up,

“What are you doing?”

“Drawing.” He answers as though it’s no big deal.

“Yes I know what you’re doing but- but-“

“No one will know it’s you. Has anyone ever seen you like I have? Naked? Legs spread open? You touch yourself for anyone else other than me?”

“No.”

“So nothing to worry about, open your legs.” He comforts you lovingly,

“Now show me how you finger yourself, baby. Show me how you please yourself.” His words alone make you moan and you find yourself begging for him to finish you off, he doesn’t of course. This was your lesson- your payback for last night.

“Oh gosh,” you squeal, your hips circling as you continued to finger yourself,

“Rub your clit with your other hand.” He murmurs. You quickly place your hand over your clit and rub it at a fast pace while fucking yourself with three fingers.

You hadn’t realized how long you’ve been at this until you see his finished canvas pushed to the side and his hand wrapped around his cock as he moves his tight grasp up and down.

“Fuck me, Kookie.” You whine, fingers still rubbing your clit, your body shaking.

“Apologize.” He commands, just like you demanded of him the night at the strip club, the first night you two got together.

“Apologize!” He demands a little louder this time, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“I’m sorry.” You agreed, leaning up to pull him closer. He pushes you back on the bed for a second time tonight and crawls over you. Placing an elbow next to your head and the other on his cock to guide himself inside of you. 

Sex with Jungkook tonight was the opposite of what you were used to. He was slow, gentle even. Allowing his body to completely mold with yours and feeling every part of your body.

“I love you,” he declares,

“I know.”

He picks up the pace, smiling down at you and watching your eyes roll back with each thrust. His moans were driving you mad and clenched around his dick, something you did when you were about to cum. He throws your legs over his shoulders and takes a hold of your upper thighs, using them to grip you as he continues to pound into you relentlessly. You can feel him pulsating inside of you,

“Cumming.” He breathes heavily, eyes squeezed shut,

“Fuck.” He looks shocked to see you still writhing beneath him.

As soon as he releases you, you push his head lower until he’s facing your cunt. Without waiting for instruction he licks a strip up your pussy, enjoying your reaction. You run fingers through his hair and tug harshly at the strands.

His tongue pokes through and begins toying with your clit, pausing every once in a while to shove his tongue inside of you. “Oh god, Kookie.” You scream as you cum, trying to push his head away as he continues to suck your juices.

“I love you.” You finally admit as the two of you lie in bed together. He slowly looks your way with a large smile, looking just as drained as you were. He pulls you in and kisses you softly.

“Sorry to break it to you, but I’m with Mina now.” You slap his chest and the two of you break out in giggles.

“Shut up!” You complain with a smile. Your laughs die down eventually and he looks at you, a serious look in eyes as he proceeds,

“No more games, baby. I’m yours and you are mine.”

a/n: The story is on an indefinite hiatus.

masterlist is here

[kinsbin]

Silent Night

Title: Silent Night Ship: Alexys/Cyril [Self Insert/OC] Word Count: 2073

Summary: Alexys travels with C through the Whitetails. He and her share a connection together that they always knew about, but were never ready to bring up... Until now. 

A/N: Another comm for @space-sweetheart! This time with my FC5 OC, Cyril! I should definitley make a biography for him at some point fghgh maybe after I post this but fOR NOW ENJOY.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Whitetails were quiet at night.

The trip was a simple one. As Joseph prepared for a new sermon in a settlement the Project at Eden’s Gate, he requested C’s help in escorting Alexys into a safe and isolated area for the time he would be away. Cyril had agreed to the job, mostly on account that he had no other choice. As a militant (and a damn good one he huffed in his mind) for the Seeds he was bound to them. He obeyed without question and focused on their commands with as little distraction as physically possible. That was what made him such a good soldier. Such a good puppet, easy to manipulate into the whims of others as they ordered him around. He had killed more rebels than even Jacob Seed himself. He had protected Faith for the years since she had found him. He was, above all else, the assassin the family needed in their shadows.

He liked to allow them that belief, at any rate.

He was, in reality, what he was now. In this moment as he set up the small tent in the cold dirt of the forest trail as Alexys huddled by the campfire. A man who despised Joseph Seed and longed to take his true place amongst the residences of Hope County. Joseph was a rambling fool who knew nothing of God or his wants. But Cyril? He had studied God. he had lived and trained to be God’s true messenger for years of his life, the family he had before the Seeds burning the status in his mind on a near permanent basis. His tattoos were the commandments to which he displayed his status and he could feel the pinpricks of their creation burn even still under the layers of jacket and leather he wore atop himself. This clear presentation of status, C mused with a bitter frown under his mask, was one of two reasons Joseph Seed was a fool.

The other was for thinking that Alexys belonged to him. That she belonged to anyone. That she, in all of her beauty and humor and skill, could possibly find a human worthy of being at her side.

“C? Is everything all right?”

Her voice pulled him out of his thoughts. He had stood at the base of the tent staring out into the darkness as his mind wandered, the look of unreadability on his glowing mask eerie enough without the silence he had draped over it. Still, feeling his voice stick in his throat slightly, he pulled away to face her. He only gave a nod in return, the movement emphasized by the neon of his cover. She smiled at him in return, her hair falling in cascading auburn waterfalls along her shoulder blades. Against the fire light it looked like a forest burning in the dark, beautiful and deadly and, decidedly, dangerous to get close to. He shifted slightly in his standing position, watching her curiously.

Alexys laughed despite herself, scooting over on the log she had made her seat on and patting it with a grin.

“I won’t bite, you should sit too. You’ve been walking all day and running ahead, you probably need the rest.”

He considered her offer for a long moment, contemplating the movements he was able to take to her side. The result was a small, awkward shuffle towards her and then a pause, a tilt of his head quietly indicating his unsureness. Despite the darkness of the holes where his eyes might be, it still seemed to read a gaze that asked ‘is this really okay?’ The softness of his movements and the gentle way he carried himself, light as a faerie above the mountain grass, made her heart skip a beat as she nodded again, her offer maintaining as she pat the seat at her side.

It was enough to encourage him and, soon, he was at her side. Alexys felt her face heat up in a blush as she realized just how little she had thought this entire situation through. Cyril was… close. Very, very close. So close that their fingers brushed along the edge of the log, his long and glove-glad digits dancing across the wood and near hers. Their shoulders touched, gentle and comforting in the warmth it provided as their bodies drew closer to one another as if on instinct. As if they were meant to be that near.

A wind gusted through the mountains, the biting cold making Alexys shiver despite the layer of protection her sweater provided. C, noticing this, paused before shrugging off the heavy tan coat he wore and draping it over her shoulders. Alexys was aware of the weight it put on her, and she paused to admire the way his muscles shifted under his slightly tighter black leather vest and shirt before she sputtered out her protests.

“I-I’m okay, really! You’ll catch a cold!”

“I’m used to the cold,” C’s tone was soft under his mask as he shrugged, “‘Sides… The fire keeps me warm… The company too.”

She couldn’t see the smile under his mask and that was a good thing. Still, the words made her heart jump and her body shake as she stared at him, her blue eyes meeting the glow of his mask. He always kept it on… He always seemed to wear it like a skin, glued to his body as though it were part of him. She wondered if it was… Alexys licked her lips, finding the strength to ask what she longed to for a while:

“Your mask.. Do you always wear it? I mean… you don’t have to right now… It’s just us.”

He tensed at the suggestion, his body rigid as he sucked in some air. Alexys’ brows knit with surprise as she reached out, holding his hand on instinct and squeezing it. “I’m sorry,” She blurted out quickly, “You don’t have to-Not if it makes you uncomfortable I just-!”

She blushed. She just… what? She didn’t even know herself.

It didn’t seem to stop him, though, as he took a deep breath and reached up. With careful maneuvering the clasps on C’s mask snapped, falling forward and off of his face. Gripping the mask from the front, he held it there for a long and terrifying moment before he pulled it away from his body. The glowing accessory was placed gently on the side of the log that neither was occupying as he turned to face her. Alexys inhaled.

His eyes were ice, glorious in their brightness against the flames beside them. She could see the bright, jutting scars that existed across his entire form, even if half of his face was still covered by a pulled up cloth mask around his lips. His eyebrow’s scar, cutting the hair in half, lead to his eyelid. A massive one danced across his nose and decorated his sharp cheek bones. She took him all in with careful examination, even as he moved and slowly pulled away the second mask.

His lips were pulled into an unreadable line as he did so, his whole face vulnerable and revealed to her ars he stared her down for a long, intense moment.

“You…” She swallowed, “Didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to.” His interruption was quick as he averted his eyes for a long moment before continuing, “I wanted you to… see… I’m… just sorry. That you have to see well-” He laughed dully and gestured to his face- “This.”

The words hurt her. He was handsome, even with the scars that seemed to litter his entire form. She had no qualms about them decorating his face, but he definitely seemed to. Without thinking about it Alexys reached out. She found his face in both of her hands and turned it to face her. C tensed up, his eyes widening as he allowed her to touch him. Alexys’ hands ran along his jawline, feeling the puff of skin that existed alongside his scars. She felt at his cheek bones, admiring the way they jutted out so sharply from the rest of his face. He had always been so thin and lanky. She wasn’t surprised that his face matched the rest of him at this point. She smiled at this thought, but kept it to herself as she let her hands moved further down and along his body.

She reached his lips.

Full and soft with a knick of a scar on their left side, she couldn’t help but let her fingers run along their seams. C’s mouth parted willingly to her, a gentle gasp leaving his lips as he shivered through her touch. She leaned in, telling herself that it was only to get a better look at him. To observe his discrepancies more closely and-

His hand touched her elbow, a gentle and firm movement that stopped her leaning.

“We should stop.” He muttered, his breath shaky as he tried to keep it evenly controlled, “You are… you don’t want to do this. Not with me.”

His tone was hurt and scared, a shaky whisper that told her how worried he was. It hurt her to hear it, knowing that he was worried because he thought he was… well, ugly. He thought that she loved Joseph as much as he seemed to be taken with her and, sometimes, she felt like she MIGHT love him that much! But, in that moment, that loyalty faltered as she bit her lip and shared into C’s eyes. Stormy grey met icy blue and she simply brought him closer. Despite his previous protests he allowed it, his breath sharp in his throat as he inhaled each moment she drew closer.

“Please… Kiss me.”

Her words were answered by his lips, chapped and velvety all the same as they covered hers. His arms wrapped around her and brought her close to him. Alexys wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into the kiss that had suddenly gone from simple to greedy as they poured the months worth of pining and passion they had for one another into it. This felt good, she realized with a giddy electricity in the center of her soul. This felt right. C’s lips were a puzzle piece slotted into her soul and their movements were synchronized with a perfect faith in one another. He was so warm despite his lack of a jacket. So careful in the way his hands found her waist and tangled in her hair, moving soon to rub along her jawline lovingly and feel each time she tensed and relaxed under his ministrations.

When they pulled away, they did not go far. Their noses touched as the two of them caught their breath, feeling each other’s warm puffs of air ghost over their faces as they shared their space. C’s hand rubbed along her cheek and so did Alexys’ to his, each of them feeling the softness and roughness of the other’s skin. Each of them basking in the glow of each other’s soul as they looked at one another against the firelight. She could see the emotions working in his eyes and she realized, with amusement, that it was no wonder he wore a mask. Every movement of his eyebrows and lips and nose was expressive. Everything he thought read on his face as he went through the motions of thinking about it. Careful bites of his lip and furrow of his brow gave away his impending emotions as he considered what just happened.

So she silenced those thoughts by kissing him again, her lips soft and caring and quick as she pulled away. A blush blossomed on C’s face and he couldn’t seem to help the quirk of a smile on the edges of his mouth as he leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together. In their silence, the fire crackled at their side.

There were no more words then. No whispers or ‘I love you’s because anyone could be listening in those mountains. It was a silent secret, held against their hearts as their hands entwined and their bodies grew closer together against the cold.

They didn’t need to say it out loud though. Both of them knew just how much they loved one another.

Both of them were content in the knowing quiet of the forest as it held their secrets with it. For them and them alone, it was beautiful.

[aquarius-johnny]

Wet Dreams | Johnny Seo

Requested: No | WC: 1.9k | Warning: Sexual Content, Cussing

Genre: Fluff, Slight Smut

A/N: I’ve been thinking a lot about the Hide and Freak fancam, so this is inspired by that, kind of; idol!johnny x idol!reader (female)

Summary: After watching a heated dance practice, and avoiding him for a bit, your fantasies about Johnny Seo became a reality.

You and Johnny were inseparable and everyone knew that, so it wasn’t a radical thought that he invited you to watch him practice and vice versa. Were you always sexually attracted to Johnny? Sure. He was a good looking guy with a heart of gold, how could you not? But his flirtatious antics always discouraged you as he treated everyone that way. He always had his way with the ladies, even through his awkwardness.

When he told you there was this group dance he was going to perform and wanted you to see it, you were excited. As an artist, you respected Johnny. His passion radiated through his work and it was something you’ve always admired about him.

A familiar song plays through the speakers in the dance room: your favorite song. You nod your head to the beat, eyes fixated on the boys in front of you. The next thing you know, your eyes are glued on Johnny as you watch him body roll on the floor. You feel your lips part and you gulp trying to lubricant your drying throat. As your eyes move with every movement Johnny does, his eyes meet yours as he trusts to the beat. He smirks at you as you feel flustered at the sight. You bite down on your thumb, containing the excitement you’re feeling. Successfully watching the practice through, you give them a standing ovation.

“That was great,” you smiled, avoiding eye contact with Johnny, but he wouldn’t let you get away with not looking at him.

“What was your favorite part?” He asks, hand on his waist, panting for air. You stutter over your words, causing Johnny to giggle. You feel embarrassment overwhelm you and you thank them for letting you sit in during their practice.

That night, Johnny’s hands glide up your thigh to the sides of your neck. He trails soft kisses on your lips, then down to your jawline, and the crook of your neck. You feel his tongue, then a suck. Pulling your shirt over your head, his lips attach to yours once more. You let a moan out into his mouth, causing him to grin.

“Fuck me, Johnny.” You whimper as you feel his hand wander down to your core. He pets your sweet spot over your underwear.

“With my fingers or cock?” He asks. His voice is low and rough, causing your pussy to throb even more. Before you could answer, his hand slaps your wet core, causing you to let out a yelp then a satisfying smile plasters across your face.

“Both.”

Johnny gives you a smirk. Pulling your underwear aside, he inserts his long middle finger inside of you. Gradually pumping it harder and faster. You feel the intensity build up, almost pushing you to the edge. He inserts his ring finger as he’s fingering you, slightly stretching you. The wetness of your cunt makes lewd sounds as you feel him bury his fingers inside of you. His tongue finds its way to your heat; swiveling and circling on your clit, causing you to let out profanities mixed with his name. The pumping and licking drove you over to the edge and you become undone. Without wasting time, Johnny fills you up with his cock.

“You’re so tight,” he purrs. His thrusts are deep and slow, occasionally picking up the pace. You begin to feel yourself reaching your high once more. His hand loosely wraps around your neck before he whispers something in your ear.

“Wake up, baby.”

Your eyes shoot open and you find yourself gasping for air. As you moved your legs, you feel the wetness between your thighs.

“What the fuck?” You muttered under your breath. “Dammit, Johnny.” You mentally beat yourself up at the fact you just had a wet dream about your best friend.

On your way to practice, you couldn’t stop thinking about the dream you had. So realistic and so satisfying, but so awkward. Awkward because he was a good friend and also because you could never bring yourself to admit your sexual attraction to him until that night. When you made eye contact with him, you feel a rush of embarrassment and booked it toward the opposite direction, taking the long way to the dance room. Johnny furrows his brows in confusion, but couldn’t get to you as he was swept away by his group members. This went on for nearly a week and it was the longest you went without more than a quick smile and wave when you saw Johnny, so he knew something was going on.

As you packed up to leave for the day, you hear the dance studio door open and Johnny stood there, his left shoulder leaning against the door frame, his hands in the pockets of his pullover sweater, and one ankle crossing over the other. You feel your mouth dry at the sight of him. You caught yourself gawking at the sight of him before you realized and cleared your throat, forcing yourself to continue what you were doing, paying no mind to the handsome man in your peripheral.

“Remind me, did I step on your dog?” You hear him speak up, earning a confused look from you.

“Johnny, you know I don’t have a dog.”

“Right, so why are you ignoring me then?” His voice slightly harsh, but you could tell it came from a good place.

“Did you miss me?” You smirked, your eyes making contact with his as you rearranged the items in your bag.

Johnny’s head drops and the smile he tried to hold back is plastered across his face. “Why do you think I’m here?” He saunters closer to you, causing your heart to skip a beat.

You zip up your bag, placing the strap over your shoulder, showing you were ready to leave. “I’ve been busy.” You shrugged. “Sorry.” As you attempted to pass Johnny, he sticks his arm out to stop you.

“I’ve been busy too, but I still find time to text you.” You take a step back, gripping the strap of your bag tighter. You could tell he was genuinely disappointed at the lack of communication between the two of you. You felt your stomach doing backflips. His hand was on your waist and he pulled you in front of him, towering over you. He lifts your chin to look at him in the eyes. “Was it that dream you had?”

Your eyes widen and you could feel your cheeks flush. “W-what dream?” You fumbled over your words, feeling your knees weak.

“Ten and Jaehyun told me.” He flashed a devilish smirk.

“But how’d they find out? I’d never tell them anything like that.” You defended, ultimately looking guilty.

Johnny steps closer to you, hand still on your waist. “So, it’s true?” His other hand moves to the crook of your neck and he lightly brushed his thumb against your bottom lip. “Tell me, what was it about? My fingers and my-”

You quickly cover his mouth with your hand before he could finish his sentence. Your face flushes in embarrassment and you could feel him smirk against the palm of your hand. His eyes established dominance, but you didn’t mind. In fact, you clenched the area between your thighs, reminding you that you couldn’t just jump him right then and there.

“It must’ve been really great, considering you felt the need to avoid me. I made you cum, didn’t I?”

“Johnny,” you whispered, your hand gripping his wrist near your neck. “Do you really want to know?”

He nods, biting his bottom lip. “Tell me in the car. I’m taking you home.” He didn’t give you a second to object, but if you were being honest, you wouldn’t have.

You could cut the sexual tension in the air with a knife on your way home after telling Johnny what your dream was about. And from the sly smile on his face, he enjoyed hearing every second of it as you felt yourself sink into the passenger's seat in self-consciousness.

“Say something,” you pleaded. “If you don’t, I’m going to take this as the last time we’re ever going to talk because this is embarrassing.”

Johnny chuckles. “I’m just sorry that dream Johnny wasn’t able to finish you with his dick. I promise real life Johnny wouldn’t leave you hanging like that.”

“Shut up,” you playfully slap him on his thigh as he drives. “It was so random to have a dream like that.”

“Random? You’re so into me it was bound to happen. I’m just surprised it took this long.” Johnny scoffs, causing you to get defensive but the hot sensation on your face tells you he’s right, so you didn’t say anything. “I mean, when I had my first wet dream about you, it was...whoa.”

Your eyes shot up at him, shocked at his nonchalant revelation.

“What?” You questioned. “You’ve hid this from me because?”

“Because I didn’t know if you wanted to know so I didn’t tell you.”

“Wait, first? There were more?”

“Hell yeah. When you invite me to dance practices and the moves are sexy as hell or that one time I accidentally walked into your dressing room and you were changing. And there was that one time -”

You cleanly cut him off. “Okay, okay, I get it.” You giggled.

Johnny shrugs his shoulders playfully. “Can you blame me? You’re smoking hot.” He compliments, causing you to blush.

“Was I any good in your dream?” You asked, flirtatiously biting your lip.

“Absolutely. Which is why hearing your story about me was disappointing, like not even a few more seconds to get you off a second time?”

“Hey, if you look at it, I got off on just your fingers. That counts for something right?”

“Sure, but I feel like I need to prove myself.”

You contemplate whether you want to give him another suggestive response, knowing he was just - if not, more - into you as you were into him.

“I mean, you could.” You tell him, rubbing his thigh up and down.

“Don’t tease me. You know I’d be down to do it.”

“Who’s teasing?” You smirked. “I wanna make your dreams come true.”

Just as you say that, you feel Johnny accelerate and before you know it, you’re home. You invite him in and guide him to your bedroom. He shuts the door behind him and pulls you into him. His soft lips meet yours and and his hands move towards your ass, squeezing it hard. You let out a giggle and he pulls back, pushing your hair back and cupping your face.

“Is this really happening?” He asked, his voice slightly hitched, hinting his excitement.

You nod your head and bite your lip. “Only if you want to,” you say as you gently rub Johnny’s cheek with your thumb.

“You’re joking right? I’ve literally dreamed about this moment.” He chuckles, lightly stroking your back. You felt his hard length pressed against you.

“Then let me make those dreams a reality for you.” You whispered in his ear, giving his hard a nice squeeze in his sweatpants.

Johnny sharply inhales and kisses your cheek. You feel him smirk against your skin. He picks you up and throws you onto your bed. Hovering over you, you lift a knee, giving him leeway to grind against your core. “I hope you don’t have practice tomorrow because you’re gonna be sore after I’m done with you.”

“I hope that’s a promise.” You grin, excited for the night ahead of you.

[memescomicswriting]

In the Pursuit of Happiness Ch. 4

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Reader x Bucky, Reader x Steve

Warnings/genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: Singer!Avenger. Raised by Sheild since the age of ten, Y/N grew up without everyday examples. She only saw how to be an agent. Though, as a grown woman she has surpassed that mindset, she still faces challenges from her upbringing- like how to handle feelings, unrequited love, and interpersonal dilemmas. Set after similar plot points in Civil War, Y/N must face returning home after leaving during an uncomfortable time in her life and face the consequences.

A/N: This is my first series in the Marvel fandom. I hope you enjoy it. I always welcome and encourage feedback. It is appreciated. My asks, requests, and messages are all open. This story does not follow the traditional Marvel timeline. I mess with it to make the story work, so roll with me.

Story Masterlist

---

The party drifted into a mess of intoxicated heroes making fools of themselves. Steve was not one among them. You hoped he would keep his promise and save some time for you before the night was over. You moved your way to his room. After several knocks and calling out for him, you gave up on trying. He was either out, or he didn't want to talk to you. You walked back, across the hall to your apartment. Slowly, you opened Peter's door to check on him. He was fast asleep under the covers. "Love you, brother." You whispered lowly so not to disturb him. You closed his door silently and made your way across the apartment to your room. You needed a long and relaxing bath then a good nights sleep. Instead, you opened your door to find Steve sitting on the edge of your bed with his head in his hands, bent over in a tired stupor. 

"Steve." You sigh and place your phone on the table by the door. He looks up through his hands. Now they are folded and under his chin. You can see the hurt and worry stricken across his face. His eyes were red and glassy. You instantly knew he was holding back tears. "Oh, Steve." You sank yo your knees in front of him, between his legs, and you grasped his clutched hands. After giving them a reassuring squeeze you slowly glided your hands to cup his face. Your eyes held his for a moment. Concern poured out from you as well as love and reassurance. In a swift and sudden motion, he swept you up and into his arms. His face was buried in the croak of his neck. His arms were wrapped around your waist and you sat across his lap, legs crossed to support his elbow. You wrapped your arms around his neck and weaved your fingers into his hair. You were tracing patterns into his scalp and whispered sweet nothings to calm him down. "I'm sorry." Steve finally uttered as he gently pulled away to look up at you. "I didn't plan on springing myself upon you, but it's been so hard lately. With work nonstop, Sokoviam, helping Bucky..." "Stop," You cut him off. "There's no need to apologize for needing companionship." You took his chin and tilted it up. You wanted his full attention. "Do you understand me?" Steve nodded hastily. He then picked you up once more and placed you back down next to him. However, he kept hold of your hand. His large and manly fingers intertwined with your slender and small but strong digits. You looked from the action to Steve. You had held hands before; always platonically. This was different and you could see it in his eyes. "It's just those three months without you wore on me, and thinking that I ruined everything between us wore me down." His eyes bore into yours with pleading. His need for reassurance was obvious. "Nothing could ruin the bond we share Steve." You swept some of the hair out of his eyes. There was a 'but' lingering in the air. It was felt on both ends. "You left for three months after-" He began but you cut him off. "I went on a mission requiring my specific skill set, personally requested by Furry." You pinched your eyes together and rolled your lips off of one another. Your head hung low. "It came at an awkward time, but I never ran from you, Steve. No matter what happens, I will never leave you. But the time, it helped me begin to think things over..." Steve perked up at that. You felt it with your eyes still closed. You turned back to him and the hope radiated out of him. You couldn't help to release all of the air in your lungs. Now you were the one with tears watering in your eyes. "You still don't know...or you know and you don't feel the same way." Steve summarized with grief in his voice. "It's that I don't know. Steve, I don't know how to be what you need and deserve. You should have the world and I can only give you me." Bucky's previous words rang through you. "Sure, I've been with people before, but not in the way you want. I have no examples to guide me. I lacked that growing up. I don't want to hurt you." "Suga'" He plead with you, searching your eyes to meet his again. "I don't want the world, especially a world where you think you're not enough for me. All I want is you." He wiped a tear from your cheek and directed you to look at him. "I know this is uncharted territory for you, but I'll work through it with you. I'm here for the long run, good and bad, and all that lies in between." Your lips parted as you gazed up in wonder through your soaked lashes. "The problem with uncharted territory is that you never know what you'll find there." Your cheeks rose in pain. "What if I hurt you? What if it all goes wrong? Steve, I can't have that..." "I said good and bad. I mean it Y/N. If I need to experience some pain to find my happiness in the end, I'm willing to take it." He was cradling your face. The roles reverse. He was now the one with stern reassurance. You tugged your lips between your teeth in contemplation. Steve was willing to accept the risk and you couldn't hold him back from his decisions. So many what-ifs lied ahead of you. What if you couldn't love Steve in the way he loved you? You noticed his eyes had drifted away from yours to your lips. He was watching as you suckled on them. But what if you didn't at least try? You did something bold. You moved out of your seated positions. You watched as Steve pulled away, disappointment momentarily clouding him. He had to be thinking he'd pushed you away again. That changed when you settled into your new position straddling his lap. In shock, all the oxygen left him. Your hands ran up his clothed chest to his shoulders. Then you soared forward. You kissed him. You kissed him hard. It caught him off guard and he fell back a little but you kept him sturdy. His hands grasped your waist, hoisting you so your chest was pressing against his. Chests heaved together, hands tightened, and you both were in a mangle of lips. Steve kissed you back with more passion and heat. You were surprised. It was pleasant. Any kiss you'd experienced close to this was filled with lust. This kiss was filled with love, you knew it even if you never experienced it. This kiss was so much better than the first. Steve had placed a hasty and nervous kiss to your lips. All the signs were there, but it was so unexpected. You were so out of your element and startled. That, followed by his confession caused all this mess. This kiss, however, was on your terms. You initiated it and you were in control. You enjoyed it. You enjoyed the way that his scent was so intense like this. You enjoyed how soft and pleasant you found his lips. You enjoyed him. Steve suddenly and sharply pulled away. The separation of your lips made a loud pop which filled the air long after you parted. "I want to do this right." He spoke with what little breath he had. "I wanted to take you out, whoo you, spoil you before we got anywhere close to this." You, however, had plenty of breath. "And what would 'this' mean?" "Making out, this intense, anywhere near a bed." It was an earnest and honest answer. You hadn't thought of going down that road yet, but you appreciated his effort to keep things from getting too physical too fast. You rolled your eyes with a smile plastered across your lips. You went to get up but he pulled you back into place. "Say you'll go out with me tomorrow." "Steve..." You whined. "I just got back..." He kissed you. It wasn't too long or anywhere near as intense as the previous one. "Say you will." "I don't know what will be waiting on me in the morning. Briefings, reports, updates.." You protested but you were cut off with another kiss. "Say you will." He repeated himself. There was a determination in his eyes. There would be no easy way out of this. "Fine." You huffed in mock annoyance. "Can I get up now?" "Not yet." He pulled you in for his last kiss. It was sweet and lingering just like his cologne. After he let go of you and you got up. You took off your shoes next to him. Then you placed them in your closet. You went to your dresser and fished out a pair of pajamas. You placed them on the bed, about to go on a search for undergarments when he spoke. "I should go, let you have some privacy." His cheeks sported a pink flush. Did he think you were about to change in front of him? "Nonsense." You chastized the idea. Then you found appropriate undergarments for your pajamas. "I've been gone for so long and we need to catch up. We've shared a bed before without any funny business happening. We can do it again." He nodded astutely in agreement. "Okay. I'll just head back for a quick change then join you." You nodded to his plan and headed to your bathroom to change and prepare yourself for bed. *** Steve all but skipped across the hall in elation. He was so damn in love with  Y/N, and she was giving him the chance to show her how right they were together. She had kissed him. She agreed to go out with him. After three months of sleepless nights and anxiety-filled days, she came back to him. Dashing around his room, he didn't care how loud he was. He'd apologize to Bucky tomorrow. He wanted to be in and out and back to Y/N. Diving through his dresser drawers, he searched for his best pair of clean pajamas. He wanted to look his best even if she'd seen him at his worst. "Hey, Steve?" It was Bucky calling from the other side of the door. His voice was gruff but not hoarse from sleeping. He hadn't woken him. He was waiting up for Steve. "What do you need pal?" Whatever it was, he'd do it, but he'd want to do it quick. Bucky settled in the doorway. He leaned against the frame, making himself comfortable. "I wanted to talk to you about Y/N." Y/N's name caught his attention. "Oh? She's great and I'm glad you met her, but what about Y/N?" He stopped shuffling through his drawers to give his friend his attention. "She's a great gal. She's got that something about her, Moxy, that I haven't encountered since before the War. Even then it was rare. I can see why you're so smitten." Feeling secure in his friend's compliments, Steve continued preparing for the evening. He stepped into his bathroom to complete his nightly routine. Bucky continued, in place. "I can see that she cares for you, a lot. She loves you Steve, but I don't think she loves you or will love you in the way you love her." Steve froze in the middle of brushing his teeth. He was paralyzed by confusion and the beginning of hurt. He spat out the toothpaste and rinsed his mouth, trying not to break anything at the same time. "What're you saying, pal?" It was pointed. Maybe a bit over the top, but that's what he was feeling. Bucky began to explain. "She and I talked..." "Did you now?" Steve cut him off. The pit of emotions in his stomach began to swell. "Yeah, we did; about twenty minutes after you rudely disappeared on her." Bucky's voice became stern. Steve needed to drop the attitude and here this for his own sake. In return, Steve settles a bit. "Look, she asked for my advice and I told her to speak honestly with you, but I know you, Steve. She's been your friend for years, but I'm your brother, and I know you." Bucky narrowed his eyes to Steve. He needed to hear this, and though Steve made a move to interrupt him, the pressure of his eyes Steve halt. "She told me how she felt. She knows how to love you now, as your friend, but she doesn't know if she can love you in that way. Now I'm not the expert in woman anymore, but I still understand that when a woman has feelings for you, she makes them damn clear. If she doesn't know after three months, she won't ever feel that way. Try if you think I'm wrong, but don't persist her into a decision that isn't her own." Steve wanted to slug him. He would never, not for this, but he wanted to. At that moment he hated him, hated that Bucky got Y/N to open up instantly when it took Steve months, and he even hated himself for bringing Bucky back from Wakanda. Bucky knew the old Steve swell, and he knew him now, but to insinuate Steve would pursue Y/N into a hasty decision? No, he would never. But didn't he? Y/N would do anything to make Steve happy, especially if he appeared hurt. He cried in her arms, told her truths, but he insistently told them. Did he push her? She was hesitant, and Steve knew she'd sacrifice herself to keep him happy. She had before. A sudden chill took over his heart. He felt like that sick kid from Brooklyn all over again. She didn't have feelings for him, but pushed herself to create some- for Steve, for his happiness. But all he wanted was to see Y/N happy. Steve fell back onto his bed defeated. "What can I do Buck?" He whispered in disbelief. "I think I already forced her hand." Bucky sighed. He hated Steve looking so small. He regretted bringing this up, only to increase Steve's pain. He never wanted that. Tentatively, Bucky sat down next to him. He patted Steves back in soft but reassuring taps. "It'll be okay bud. Whatever happened, whatever you did, just work towards fixing it." It was odd for Bucky. Usually, Steve was the one giving advice. Yet, it felt oddly familiar. He used to be the one helping Steve. It was odd but familiar. Steve huffed out. "I have a date with her tomorrow." It was a rough croak from a distraught voice. "Then go!" Bucky quickly assured his friend. "Being wrong isn't anything new to me, but try to get a read on how she feels. This could work." "Bucky..." Steve was breaking. "but if it doesn't, I don't think I can stay here. I can't be here with her after this, feeling the way I do. I couldn't get over her here." Bucky accepted that with sad understanding. "I'm here with you Steve. I'm here with you till the end of the line." *** Fifteen minutes after Steve left, your nerves kicked up. You thought he'd take five minutes or less with how eager he was. After twenty minutes you convinced yourself something was afoot. At thirty, you exited your apartment to check on him. Quietly, you slipped out the front door and crossed the short distance to Steve's door. About to knock, you heard the low whispers of two male voices and distant whimpers. Steve never intended to leave you hanging, he was caught up with Bucky. You convinced yourself Bucky had another nightmare, and Steve, the good friend he is, stayed to help Bucky through it. A small smile crept over your lips. Steve was the best of men. Feeling satisfied with you discover, you silently made your way back across the hall and into your bed. You'd sleep better than you expected.

---

A/N: Chapter 4! Share your thoughts! Reblog if you enjoyed it! What do you think of Steve and Y/N? Does she like? Does she not? Did Bucky screw everything up or potentially save it? Should Y/N have knocked? Comment your opinion below. 

[kitsoa]

Fic: A Measure of Gratitude

Fandom: Kingdom Hearts

Genre: Gen

Word Count: 4309

Characters: Sora, Riku

Relationship: Sora & Riku (mainly platonic but its free real estate)

Summary: [Post KH2][Pre-DDD] It was a childish ambition of his, accomplished in seconds. Perhaps the way he got there cheapened the moment, but it couldn’t change the beauty of the view. This was his home.

Sora reflects on his homecoming.

The air splashed around like a thick hot soup. Hungry gasps for oxygen took in the humidity with native ease while arms pumped through the foliage of green and sneakers slapped the wet stone at a constant beat. The run was joined with the ceaseless screams of cicadas and the scampering rustle of a startled animal.

The island was built around a massive and dormant volcano. Upon its dark soil sprung violently rich greenery. Trees of impressive heights, coiling vines along fallen trunks, moss blooming along jagged cliff sides, wet ravines that spilled water from a nearby ocean channel in loud splatters. The expanse of the main island was covered in a forest known fondly by the youth of the town. The primary hiking trail was exhausted in its familiarity, only holding captive the spirit at the base of the volcano’s sharp incline by a sloppily pinned strip of bright yellow ribbon blocking entry to Uwami Point.

It was almost laughable really. Closed in a moment of crisis roughly 20 years ago, the lone, pathetic string of tape was mainly symbolic of the very few hard laws in the land, relying on the trust of islander fellowship to enforce the idea that Uwami Point could kill as it had done before. It didn’t stop the more adventurous children until resulting consequences satisfied them to play exclusively at a lonely island across a small surf of ocean.

It was a schoolyard dare, a right of passage for unruly teens, a thrilling challenge to a wide-eyed child looking to prove himself. So the act of jumping over the blockade was not unheard of. Not for many Islanders and certainly not for Sora.

The impact of his shoes on the rock was momentary as the young teen immediately broke back into his run. He launched himself among the step stones of a winding creek, sweeping under low hanging branches, arranged in a manner both familiar and entirely new—like someone shifted the couch over by two inches. His focus was as intense as his breathing, eyes darting miles ahead of his next step to take the vault across the stump that wasn’t there 2 years before, and dodging the drop where he broke his wrist when he was nine. All the while the incline grew steep and the smell of the ocean took back dominance over the dirt and green.

The trees started to thin as the rocks climbed to the sky and what was the once the expert movements of a boy at home became something else entirely. He kicked off the wall of stone and parried himself off another in a way that looked like flying. Sora flipped along the small footholds, finding greater purchase on the larger ledges only to launch himself higher, sometimes scampering his shoes straight up a vertical incline to catch a distance lip.

The entire time his blood pumped, eyes elated and sparkling with what was a childhood dream falling—or in this case climbing— into his lap. The moment captured his body into a captivated physical trance, his focus equally pacified and humming with electrifying precision. Beneath that, wells of something greater, more mysterious, and limitless bubbled with the joy. It joined his coiled muscles as he rocketed along the impossible trail of Uwami Point.

The massive leaves of a tropical bush indicated the return of green and Sora grabbed its stalk for one final pull up. There were few trees upon the more level walkways of the mountain but the path winded across vertigo-inducing altitude. Sora rose to his feet, taking several steps toward the clearing on the rocks, the air salty and active. It was a like a different world, the clouds so much closer, his eyes consuming the entire expanse of the forest surrounding the town— the size of a dinner plate from his vantage point. His feet stopped at the massive drop into a sea of trees.

“Wow.” He breathed, unable to contain his wonder. Here was his home, his small world nestled in a nook of island foliage and blue sea, in a form he never before dreamed he’d see. Sora let the temptation to reach his hand out toward the coastal settlement take over, his gloves obscuring the homes, his fingers worming along the dirt streets, every single denizen in his palm. The school was near his pinky, the younger students milling about like ants while at recess. Several ships were finding the port with trade from the island neighbors. His small home settled on the edge of town by a coast of soft white sand curled under his thumb. If he squinted, the mayor’s mansion was in sight by the town square. Face flush with excitement, Sora thought of showing Riku this view. He wondered what he’d say.

And then, in the distance, he spotted the lush little Play Island. The special islet stood out like a beacon surrounded by the blue. Even so, it was still an unsuspecting location for his world’s heart. Just knowing that gave the place a warm glow that was amplified by the fond memories upon those shores. The compulsion to lay on its sun-soaked beach was far too real for the mountain scaling teen.

With a wry grin, Sora fell into the easy analytics of judging if a glide-induced jump from this height would result in an early nap across the stretch of water. Confidence started to swell with a change in the wind pattern, whipping his hair into his eyes which were skirting across the town in a last minute search for witnesses. He took a couple steps back to prep his running start.

His muscles fired him into a leaping sprint when a voice emerged out of the quiet nature around him.

“You will definitely get spotted if you try that.”

Sora squawked as he tried to stop, his momentum launched out of control. And in a comical attempt to stop himself, the boy’s arms flailed wildly while his sneakers slid to the edge of the cliffside until finally, Sora fell off.

“Sora!”

Riku, the unsuspecting visitor to what was actually an impossible trail to follow, stumbled forward in a jerk of protective reflexes, reaching down the cliff toward his falling friend to no avail.

“Oh thanks, Riku.”  He heard the eye roll in Sora’s voice and took in the sight of his friend falling slowly through the air, a magical glide easing him to the next available ledge, arms crossed in a sour mood.

“Did anything hit you?” Riku couldn’t contain the guilty worry in his voice. He clenched the ledged while his friend descended.

“I’m fine, I’m fine!” Sora insisted, feet touching the ground on a small lip along the cliffside. “Just gimme a second and I’ll give you some payback.”

A second was all he needed to scale back up in two easy leaps. Riku couldn’t rise to his feet in time to avoid Sora’s vengeful tackle on the way up, complete with a gurgly yell.

“Wah? SORA!” He spluttered as a face full of Sora was now on top of him, pushing his shoulders to the ground. A mischievous grin was on his mouth as he pressed his forearms into Riku’s face with a series of sloppy knuckle slaps to his head.

“Way to screw up my plan Riku!” Sora laughed while the older boy knocked his hands away in a light swipe. He then used his long legs to pin Sora’s ankles in a show of resistance.

“Oh, you’ll thank me later,” Riku responded, attempting an easy tone with difficulty amidst the wrestling match. He swept his feet to the side, knocking Sora off balance and into humorous crumpled of limbs. Riku took his chance and went after the boy’s mess of brown hair, rustling it into an even greater mess.

“Hey!” Sora protested grabbing at his pant leg in a childish way as Riku got to his feet. His posture tensed.

“No no don’t.” He said as Sora released his pant leg with a cocked eyebrow. Riku heaved a sigh, scratching has his face with an embarrassed gaze. “I can't let my uniform rip.”

And that’s when Sora took full note of his friend’s attire, blue plaid dress pants and a now dirt scuffed short sleeve uniform polo fit with a plaid tie. The Destiny High School summer uniform.

“Why aren’t you in class?”

Riku swallowed a laugh in a choked huff. “Why aren’t you?”

Sora shrunk back in a spell of insecurity. He grabbed at his feet as he adjusted himself into a sitting position. He was still in his adventuring clothes, complete with the clanking buckles and rattling pockets full of keychains and accessories. He scratched at his head.

“Ah, you know.” He laughed with a furtive hesitation in his eye. “I wasn’t really feeling it today, that’s all...”

Riku crossed his arms, clearly contemplating something in the silence of his piercing eyes. He took in a breath… and then sighed it away in defeat.

“I’m not really one to talk.”  Riku pulled a hand through his bangs, clearing his vision before the wind swept it back into his eyes. Sora felt the tension in his neck relax. “The moment I realized you were skipping, I headed out after you. Talk about an opportunist.”

“How’d you know I’d be here?”

Riku hummed thoughtfully, taking a moment to crouch down to Sora’s seated level and kick his feet out. “You were staring at Uwami Point yesterday. I had a feeling you wanted to give it a spin with your new abilities.”

“And yet you stopped the biggest test of said abilities.”

“Hey, as impressive as your ability to glide is, don’t think for a second you won’t get spotted by the entire town trying to take a short cut to the Play Island. We have to—”

“Maintain the world border. Don’t worry, Donald never let me forget.”

“‘Border?’ ”

“Sorry— ‘order.’ ”

“You’ve clearly committed that to memory.”

Sora made an exaggerated pout. “It’s not easy lying to everyone.”

His exaggeration hid greater stress and Sora had to swallow down a sudden string of tension in his throat at a creeping memory from only days before. A reunion so basic; the family friends rushing to their home as news of Sora and Riku’s return rippled across the town like the igniting lamps at nightfall. He remembered Hana, the wife of his father’s employer, in her misleading scowl and heavy glare, yielding to a twinkling joy on verge of tears, crushing him in a hug and pawing his shoulders and face for signs of some kind of harm. Questions spilled from her mouth that would echo later from neighbors of a more casual bond. Where had he been? What had caused his absence? Was he okay?

He didn’t blame them for their overbearing reactions. He even indulged in the euphoric atmosphere of their presence. Old bonds in his heart leaped. Childish selfishness basked in an attention he had gluttoned for in his younger days. And as joy curled his lips, a blush rose to his cheeks and brought a similar twinkle to his eye— looming clunch on his jaw skewed his face awkward. His neck grew tight and a pressure seeped through his chest.

When the swell of shock and elation died out, and all that was left between them was that empty air of unanswered questions and great expectations, there was the seizing dismay in her eyes. It was a confusion so unrelated and undeserving while she and many others in the following days would realize that they had come to harbor a worry that would never find burial.

And wasn’t that worry just another form of darkness?

Riku’s face was lax, his mouth a hard to read line. “True.”

Sora shook his head of the memory, choosing instead to cling on the more present good. The beautiful horizon lent a hand in that.

“Oh, but secrets can be fun too! How many people do you think have ever successfully climbed Uwami Point?” As if to exclaim his point, Sora outstretched his arms to present the impressive view of the town.

Riku hummed. “If the stories are true, I can only imagine a small number have even tried.”

'Stories’— meaning cautionary tales and ‘tried’—meaning ‘failed.'

“Yep… Everything looks so different from up here.”

“It certainly provides… an interesting perspective.”

The kind of perspective a restless child could have used to cure his island fever. A spin on the small sameness of a sea-locked paradise that could easily inspire and regrow weary appreciation for home… But it was a perspective nearly impossible to gain without first stepping foot outside. Redundant, the view of the town could just as easily summate the limits of their world.

The thought was sobering. The memories of reckless horseplay on the island and schemes of adventure on the beach gave a sleepy warmth in Sora’s head. It felt a little like swimming, staring out at home. Weightless, free, and comforting. The memories of loving smiles from shopkeepers on the square, or his father’s crew, to the diligent teachers at the school— he imagined they were all within his vantage point from this distance. But in the same way, it felt a little muffled. Unreal and distorted as though the winds from this mountaintop were waves and those smiles were trying to talk to him from the surface when all he could only see was their sun dazzled shadows through the water and all he could hear were their warped voices in the bubbles.

“Are you happy to be back Riku?”

The question caught Riku off guard, Sora’s expression was mellow and perhaps nostalgic—not an ounce of unspoken context or prying. Just an honest reflection. Their home behind his heartfelt gaze, the sun as ever faithfully crawling through the sky, the question seemed silly.

“Yeah.” And his words were sure. It didn’t really matter if rumors flew in unsavory ways, or if the townsfolk would never completely understand the people they were growing into.  Even if there was a foundation of truth in the furtive glances, and that horrifying storm— now a bad memory— was a result of his weakness… the idea of standing on this earth had been resigned so many times in the past year that Riku couldn’t fathom regret. At least not at that moment. Sora just made things easy.

“What about you?” He shot back. What of this open heart could words really convey? There was something so islander about an exchange of easy pleasantries, if this could be considered that.

“Oh sure.”

A silly question indeed.

And it was like they were on those dark shores again, yearning for the slight breeze to smell the same while letting it settled slowly that they were never going to view their sea again. If Sora hadn’t been there. If he had been alone, grounded on that suffocating land, Riku imagined he would have wept endlessly on that black sand. He would have gone from being blind to the wealth he already had, to truly destitute. A real island prison as opposed to his naively manufactured one.

But Sora’s eyes flickered, that sobered feeling from earlier swelling around his vision while he took in his friend. Déjà vu. That water swarmed around Riku and he felt the urge to reach out to him against a swallowing current. At least… he was below the surface with him. It gave him the strength to lay the feeling on the table.

“But you know. I think I’m a little nervous.” The surprising words had that characteristic Sora pep. It was the sort of certainty that spoke of his refusal to dwell and brood, or at least fight in the face of it.

“Nervous? Of what?” Unlike Riku, Sora’s never resented his home. Any guilt around his heart from here would have to have been born from some contrived sense of failed responsibility and as far as he could tell— Sora was nothing but victorious.

Sora slowly let his gaze fall away from the town, focusing at his feet, upon the shoes that trodden on lands beyond the wildest imagination.

“Not a day went by when I didn’t think of home… I just wanted to find you and Kairi and let everything go back to normal... “ He cocked his head in some mixture of nostalgia and amusement.

“But ever since we got back… I’m starting to wonder if normal’s even possible anymore.”

Sora wasn’t sure normal was the word. Maybe it was ‘same’? But that forced him to recognize the feeling as unyielding change. A transformation instead of a slightly skewed picture frame.

Sora‘s voice was gentle, almost lost to the wind in his bout of insecurity. Riku exhaled through his nose, not taking his eyes off the sad smile on his friend. There was a flare of guilt in his gut he refused to let fester. If only he had realized what he had. If only he hadn’t uprooted their world and destroyed any sense of the word normal. If only—

“You think you’ve changed?”

Sora crossed his arms with a more befitting pout of consideration as he rolled the summation.

“Yes? I mean something’s different. I feel different.”

“You’ve grown,” Riku corrected and Sora felt an uncontrolled swell of pride from a younger side of himself, desperate for his older friend’s recognition, now suddenly dished out without fanfare. He laughed it away with a dry bark.

“I’m taller.”

“And you can climb Uwami Point in seconds flat.” And the weight of such a benign fact was reluctantly recognized, but promptly ignored.

“That doesn’t matter.” He pushed Riku’s example away with his hand, bemusement in his eye. It did matter. It was indicative of his new abilities, of his responsibilities and purpose. It was the highest point in their world. The limit.

“Does ‘normal’ even matter?” Riku asked, but in his head, he screamed ‘ of course it matters.' The attempt at devil’s advocate to fight Sora’s woes was a purpose he could rally behind though. It settled him into a familiar position; giving sage advice he wasn’t entirely sure of like the older kid on the Play Island he was used to being.

“Not exactly…” Sora admitted. “But it probably does for everyone else.”

Riku paused, the spell of concern resonating and tugging at his own heart. It didn’t take long for the rumors to reach them. While their return was miraculous and welcome, the lack of answers to their great mystery simmered a world of fables. How long until they tainted the hearts of their beloved islanders? How long until the weakest of connections withered when Sora’s love included everyone? Would it spread like poison? What would that lead to?

“I know what you mean,” Riku said after a moment, doing his best to fight the spiraling void of dark possibilities. Alas, it brought him to a spot of resonance. A memory from just that morning, interrupting Kairi’s pre-class conversation with her classmates to inquire about Sora and the stares from the underclassmen that ensued. People unsure of what to think. Perceptions once gilded in admiration and familiarity now boggled in the foreign sight that was Riku himself. Otherness. Guilt. It was like playing with fire and blisters calloused along his skin.

Riku didn’t know how to put that into words.

“But hey,” He continued, finally knocking Sora out of his thoughts and catching his drifting gaze with a tilt of his head. “I guess we just have to keep it a secret the best we can. Just you, me, and Kairi.”

They were the people Sora’s heart chose. Woven into the foundation of all he felt, they were his pillars. As long as they stood beside him, he would be okay. That image of swimming felt a little more grounded, in his hands were the solid palms of resonating company and it coursed through him like liquid courage. The steadfast eyes of his longest friend reassured him. He was not alone.

Sora nodded sharply, encouraged. “You’re right.”

“That’s more like the Sora I know.” A wry smile teased Riku’s mouth. A shock of perspective— one of less macrocosmic levels— jolted Sora with a trill of self-conscious anxiety at his words. He blinked back beside himself.

“Ah… uh… Sorry?” He offered. “I didn’t realize I wasn’t being ‘me’...”

Riku waved the concern away with a laugh. “Don’t think about it too hard, you’ll hurt yourself.”

“Hey!” Sora jutted his jaw forward for show and Riku had to hold it together with a bemused smile.

“Why don’t you go to class tomorrow? We can bring things to normal together.” Riku offered after a kind silence.

He shifted his weight and brought himself onto his feet as Sora pursed his lips, giving the only school building on the island a long and pointed glance.

“Come on Sora. United front?”

He may cox his friend with ease, but stepping into the constricting uniform was a herculean task in and of itself. He could truly sympathize with Sora’s reluctance with striking clarity. Even so, Riku's efforts seemed fruitful.

“Only if you let me glide to the Play Island after nightfall.” Sora mirrored Riku, rising to his feet with a sly grin on his face, troubles far away. He began walking toward the edge of the perimeter he arrived from, intending to jump.

Riku gave a scoff. “You’ll have to carry me with you.”

“No way! You’re too heavy!”

“I’m offended.”

“How are you gonna get down without scuffing up your uniform?” Sora asked pointedly, peering over the edge to find potential footholds for his friend to ease down the cliff. Riku, in a moment of concern, glanced at his uniform pants, patting away some dirt collected from when he was sitting.

“I guess I didn’t think that far.”

Sora took a step back in yet another jumping prep, a self-important laugh. “Then it looks like you’re actually are getting that lift.” And that’s when Sora stepped on a loose stone, bringing his attention to the earth beneath his feet.

“Hey, Riku… come over here.”

“I was joking,” Riku said turning around from the cliffside only to noticed Sora‘s distracted focus. He drew closer, following his friend’s curiosity as he crouched himself toward the stone.

“What do you know... We aren’t the first ones up here.” Riku mused as Sora brushed away loose dirt from the sloppy engraving. It appeared to be old but was deep enough to have survived years of erosion. Whoever wrote the message did so with passion. Sora imagined if someone were to have scaled this cliff —without superhuman abilities— they would’ve easily had the drive to inspire a trophy of this simplicity. The message itself was the confusing part.

“‘Another, ’” Sora read aloud. “Another what?”

This was the highest point in all of Destiny Islands. There wasn’t ‘another.’

Riku failed to respond, something dark sobering his gaze. “That’s kind of sad.” He said after a pause.

“Hm? What do you mean?” Sora was attempting to search for more inscriptions on the rock but failing.

Riku took his time to brush his thumb over the message, the jagged engraving seemed artistic at first glance, but closer inspection showed more sloppy desperation in the lines. “Whoever climbed up here chose not to write their name… they probably weren’t very proud of themselves.”

And to write something as greedy as 'another.' There was little context in those lines, but something about its location was chilling. Sure... the view was beautiful, the feat was validating, the notoriety was immortalizing, but what more could someone from this small world expect?

“Oh…” Sora knitted his eyebrows together in concerned thought. “That’s… not right…”

Who wouldn’t feel proud of themselves? Sora and Riku technically cheated themselves from the pride… but the spoils of the view, the nostalgic dream-come-true was too sweet to not appreciate. But this mystery person, who most likely scaled this mountain with their hands, facing the dangerous winds and stretched out footholds… they didn’t even tell anyone to warrant an island legend… assuming that they got back down alive. Sora almost choked on that sinking thought. It made him feel wrong, almost dirty. In those moments, the air clung to his skin weird, like he didn’t really belong. Nothing stirred more fear in his heart.

“Or their name is actually ‘Another.’” Riku offered after a silence.

Sora choked, but this time on a bursting laugh. “Now that’s sad.”

“I’m just picturing a cranky mother naming her fifth kid ‘Another’ out of frustration or something.”

Sora threw his head back. “I’d probably climb a mountain too if my mom was that disappointed in me.”

“You’ve done more than that and your mom’s a saint Sora.”

Sora smiled, impossibly bright. “I’m actually really happy we weren’t the first up here.”

It made him feel closer to the ground, but he didn’t know how to say that out loud.

Riku hummed in agreement. Sora took in the town as he rose to his feet one final time. This was home. It was small, but plenty. This was enough.

When they returned to level ground, Sora and Riku took a boat out to the Play Island. They stretched the long afternoon in the dark cave of the Secret Place, holding a handful of conjured fire to newly made engravings of their own, sloppily scratched on the precious blank stone. They tested their imagination and art skills on the walls, making up stories about a mysterious ungrateful mountain climber and later showing Kairi in fits of laughter. She scolded them for skipping class before drawing an artistically superior sequel.

And when night fell they saw the stars shimmering from the cave openings. Backs flat on the wet stone floor, they got another, equally impressive view of their world.

[jayankles]

Something New

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1144

Warnings: SMUT. Gun play. Fingering. No plot whatsoever

Summary: You and Dean try out something new.

A/N – My entry for @impala-dreamer ’s OP4A Challenge: ‘If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were tryng to kill me.’ was the prompt. And this is also a fic for my Get Your Kink On Challenge which was ironically requested by @impala-dreamer who said: Oooh! Could you do a dean x reader with #36 (Gun Play) please? Thank you! I’m sorry if this is shitty, I’ve been ill for the past couple of days so please forgive me if it sucks.

‘Are you sure you want to do this? Dean hesitated, biting at his bottom lip, contemplating your proposal.

You nod enthusiastically, ‘yes! Just make sure that thing is clean so we can do it and get down and do the dirty.’ You leap out of your seat and kiss the corner of Dean’s mouth before you skipped down the hall and into your bedroom.

Cleaning at the last minute, you tossed your shoes onto the rug, and your jacket was thrown over the back of the chair. Before you could finish swiping at the table, a hand closed around your throat and something metallic was pressed against your temple.

It was hard to breath but the pressure was just enough to make it hot and turn you on; it wasn’t like when the monsters you hunted were trying to harm you.

‘You’re not going to make a sound until I tell you to, understood?’ The voice was deep and gruff, and just like the other times, it made you weak in the knees. So mush so that it almost made you relax in the man’s embrace. You nodded in comprehension, his fingers still flexing around your neck but lose enough so that you could speak.

‘If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to kill me, Dean.’

He huffs then growls in your ear, his fingers tense and bring you closer to his body, feeling his cloth covered erection digging in the small of your back. ‘What the fuck did I just say, huh?’

Pulling away the hand that was wrapped around your neck and the gun, he pushes you forward onto the bed. ‘I will kill you if you don’t listen to me. You do not speak unless you are spoken to. Are we clear?’ Dean straddles the back of your thigh and leans over your body, your hair now in a makeshift ponytail in Dean’s fist

‘Yes.’ You breathe roughly into the pillow.

Dean yanks your head back forcefully, ‘what was that?’

‘Y-Yes sir.’

Pushing himself away from you, he kisses, licks and sucks at your ear lobe. ‘Good girl. On all fours. Lemme see that pussy.’

Once Dean’s weight has been lifted off of you do as he says, obeying his every command as he dishes them out. You take off every article of clothing that’s on your body. You’re on your knees, on the edge of the bed, spread apart so he can see the opening of your entrance. You make sure that your ass is in the air and your back is arched so he can get a good look at what he wants.

Adjusting your arms, you pull the pillow in between them because you know things are going to get loud and rough.

He’s already discarded his clothes, making a mess on the floor that you just cleaned but you are too wound up to care.

Moving quickly, he’s pressed up against you in an instant, his erection curled against his belly but resting on your pussy giving you the tiniest bit of friction; you can’t help but moan at the sensation that is flowing through you.

Leaning forward, Dean pinches, twists and rolls your nipples between his fingers, tugging at them when he wants to hear you moan at the pleasurable pain he is putting you through.

When he’s satisfied, he gives one final tug to each nipple.

Suddenly and without warning, Dean shoves two of his long, thick fingers into your aching cunt. With pace, he pumps them into you, scissoring you open even further. His quickness never falters until he hits that sweet spot inside, toying with it for a while until your first orgasm explodes out of you and you come around his fingers.

You’re so high on the pleasure that you don’t notice he’s gone, until something freezing cold touches the top of your neck. It drags down the length of your spine and traces over the globes of your ass before coming back up and grazing your folds.

His fingers has opened you up so much that the gun easily slides in, the tip of the gun hitting against your cervix and you really feel it. Feel the rough edges and dips of the gun. Feel the intensity of it all. Feel the butt of the gun against your exposed skin. Feel the constrast of the different heats. Cold gun against the fire in your pussy, you feel it all and it leaves you reeling. You want more but how? He’s told you that you cannot speak unless he tells you to.

Dean knows exactly how. He gun back and it feels like the weapon is vibrating with how fast he’s going. In your mind you start to think of the Flash. Somehow he pushes the gun deeper into your heat.

Gripping on the pillow tightly, your knuckles shot out and turned a paler colour from the strength you had put into it. Your shaky moans fill the room, you grunt, groan and whimper at the perfect pressure inside of you. Pushing back against the gun, moving in unison with it, going back as it came forward.

As soon as Dean felt your thighs quivering under his ministrations, his free hand hooked around your groin, the tip of his fingers easily finding your sensitive bundle of nerves, Dean rubs quickly. Your incoherent words grew louder as you neared your second finish. When you were ready to explode, Dean removed the gun and haphazardly tossed it somewhere on the bed behind you.

In a matter of seconds, the gun is replaced with his cock and he’s thrusting into you, his pelvis slapping against your ass. His pace is punishing and you’re so close to letting go, so close to tipping over the edge and you need that little extra push so you risk your chances, one of your hands entwines with his, guiding his fingers to pinch the sides of your clit. When he doesn’t object, you tighten your fingers and it is a whole other level of pleasure that you have reached.

Dean gives one final thrust and you come undone, pulsing around him, sending him into his own orgasm, tumbling over the edge. When you’re both spent, you collapse into a heap of sweating, panting messes.

‘Why didn’t we do that earlier?’ Dean breathes, his thumb running over your bottom lip before he leans in to kiss you.

You smile at his tenderness, a complete contrast from a few minutes ago. ‘I don’t know but I didn’t know that side of you existed. I like it.’ You kiss his nose and comment on how hot that was.

His eyes flutter closed as he drifts of, you curl into him and pull the covers over you as you fall into a state of complete and utter bliss.

Lemme know what you think…

@thorne93 @becaamm @jotink78 @love-kittykat21 @jensen-jarpad @myserium @capsheadquaters @kurosaki224-new-blog @supernatural-jackles @cyrilconnelly @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @iwantthedean @ruprecht0420 @mrswhozeewhatsis @feelmyroarrrr @redlipstickandplaid @mogaruke @pureawesomeness001 @mizzezm @jpadjackles @jesspfly @1amluke @skybinx-blog @aubzylynn @deansbaekaz2y5 @plaidstiel-wormstache @lilasiannerd @valerieshubin @be-amaziing @akshi8278 @purplediamon @graceforme86 @its-my-perky-nipples @nervousmemzie @mrsbatesmotel53 @lavieenlex @percussiongirl2017 @oneshoeshort @whit85-blog @muliermalefici @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @moonlover19 @emoryhemsworth @reallyverynodansi @milo-winchester-4ever @captainradicalpassion @captainemwinchester @alicat-life @cojootromuelle @essie1876 @dancingalone21 @dslocum89 @atc74 @superwhomerlockinuum @spnbaby-67 @anitalasirenita

[twilightsunclan-fr]

Ophrys had always known to some degree what Ivory looked like. Turns out he was unprepared for the actuality.

Contrary to popular belief, Ophrys did know what Ivory looked like.

Beyond what he could feel even.

Prae’s favorite pokemon was a somewhat cranky Alakazam. Prae had gotten him as an abra, originally she’d trained him to be a service pokemon for Ophrys. But psychic types were a fickle bunch, the stronger they were the more temperamental. Alakazam had refused to go with Ophrys, making clear his choice to stay with Prae.

That had been a rather painful experience. Bean’s enthusiastic territorial behavior more then made up for Alakazam’s rejection. Lily’s devotion doubly so. Triply so actually, considering all the care and effort that went into her training.

The point of all this being from time to time Alakazam would connect with Ophrys, enough to share his eyes. It was usually when the two of them were in the same room and something was happening. So not all that often that Ophrys expected it but often enough that he didn’t startle when it happened. (Ophrys always got the impression that Alakazam did feel guilty about what happened and this was a measure of reconciliation.)

Whatever the case, this was how Ophrys knew what Ivory looked like, really looked like. How expressive he was, how his arms moved when he gestured and what color his eyes were.

It had been at a small friendly get together, welcoming Nerio’s newest daughter, with Iubar, Romanov and Prae in attendance. Ophrys had taken a seat, drink in hand, listening to the chatter between Ivory, Iubar and some of Nerio’s older children.

Ophrys blinked and suddenly he was seeing the room. But from the wrong angle. Alakazam hummed against his mind. He could see himself from where Alakazam was. Before he could fully contemplate what was happening, Alakazam slowly and deliberately turned his head to the left. Gaze sweeping over the room.

And there

Was

Ivory.

Maybe it was a good thing he was blind, Ophrys thought, his mouth slowly parting. If he could see, he’d never get anything done with Ivory around. He wouldn’t be able to look at anyone or anything else.

Oh my god. Was his second thought, I’m dating him. I’m dating, no, I’m engaged to Arceus’ gift to mankind. Alakazam’s amused snicker tickled across his mind.

Objectively, Ophrys knew  a lot about Ivory’s appearance.

Ophrys knew that Ivory was tall and built. He hadn’t quite realized what that meant until now. Ivory towered over their friends, and he not only looked like he could bench press half of them, he looked like he could bench press all of them, at once.

He knew that Ivory had short hair, he’d run his hands through it enough times. What he hadn’t known was that it was short and messy. Spiky in the front and flat toward the back. Artfully scruffy one could say. Seeing it just made Ophrys want to run his hands through it again and again. He knew that Ivory had a goatee, he now knew that it framed Ivory’s strong chin and jawline perfectly, matching with neatly trimmed dark sideburns.  

Then there were his eyes. Ophrys wasn’t prepared for them. He’d asked Ivory once, what color his eyes were.

‘They’re blue.’ Ivory answered nonchalantly. What shade of blue, Ophrys had pressed. Skyblue, cornflower blue, ocean blue, green blue, robin’s egg blue? ‘I dunno, Rhys.’ Ivory laughed, fondly amused at Ophrys’ need for details. ‘They’re just blue.’

Yes, they were blue. Ophrys would credit him there. They were an amazing shade of pale ice blue, with a ring of darker blue around the outer edge of the iris. Giving Ivory a look of laser focus, even while he was smiling and joking with friends. Ophrys shivered when he thought of that intensity directed at him.

Speaking of smiles, Ivory smiled. A. Lot. Ophrys had known, objectively of course, that he probably did. Ivory had such a cheerful personality. Knowing it and seeing the different grins, smiles and smirks were two different things. Ivory smiled and laughed with ease. In the two solid minutes that Ophrys had been doing nothing but watch him, Ivory had already smiled at least fifteen different ways and grinned another ten. And each one made those ice blue eyes glow.

It wasn’t just smiles. He watched Ivory bite his lip in indecision(and look adorable doing it.), run a hand through his hair, rub a thumb down the inside of his wrist, pinch the bridge of his nose and even jab a finger into Iubar’s chest at one point. Ophrys realized that Ivory was an expressive person. His heart was on his sleeve for the world to see. He hid nothing. Which became super apparent when Ivory half turned and looked

Back

At

Ophrys.

Ophrys’ heart skip-stopped and then thudded fast in his ears at the expression on Ivory’s face. That look. Ivory looked at him like Ophrys was holding his whole world in his hands. Those intense ice blue eyes were focused on him, soft and warm. His mouth quirked up in a gentle smile. Ophrys felt and saw his cheeks pinking, even the tips of his ears felt hot.

Is that how he looks at me all the time? Ophrys asked. Alakazam laughed. Which was more then answer enough. No wonder Prae and Reg and all of their friends thought he was an idiot during that little episode of doubt he had.

No wonder at all.

Ivory looked at him like he was the only person in the room, like he was the only person in the world Ivory wanted to see, wanted to talk to.

“You doing okay over there, Rhys?” Ivory asked, turning fully now to Ophrys, as the conversation went on without him. Ophrys blinked and he was blind again. But that short time had been more then enough.

(Just need some air.) He signed instead of I love you, I see you, I see how much you love me.

“Can I come with?” And now, Ophrys could accurately picture how earnest Ivory looked when he asked. How wide his eyes would be, how his eyebrows would be set, how the corners of his mouth would be slipping into a hopeful grin.

(Please.) Oh no, he’d never be able to say no to Ivory again!

[thelastspeecher]

Stan-at-Home - Chapter 2: An Idyllic Domestic Life

Chapter 1   Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4   Chapter 5   Chapter 6 Chapter 7   AO3

Okay so I wasn’t planning on updating this fic before I finished “Stan Pines, Farmhand”, but my muse, she inspires me.  And I wanted to write something, since I’m officially post-op and have not much else to do while I recuperate.  But anyways, in this chapter, we meet Stan’s wife!  And we find out more about the family dynamics, as well as how Stan and his wife met.  We also get a few hints about some of the drama coming in the next chapter, with Bill Cipher.  Seriously.  The next chapter is gonna be intense, folks.  Anyways, enjoy~

               YOU REALLY THINK YOU CAN ESCAPE ME, SIXER?

               Ford sat bolt upright, drenched in a cold sweat.  His breathing slowly steadied as he looked around the sparsely furnished, but clean guest room.  He threw the brown-striped covers off and sat on the edge of the bed.

               Fuck!  See, Stanley, this is why I don’t sleep!  Bill always finds me.  Always. Once his heart had stopped pounding in his ears, he could make out the clatter of cookware and voices chattering. Ford hesitantly stood up and opened the door.  He was immediately greeted by a waft of marinara-scented air.  His stomach rumbled.  How long has it been since I’ve eaten?  He walked down the hallway and into the living room.

               “You got Daddy in trouble,” an accusatory voice said.  He looked down.  Danny was standing in front of him, her diminutive arms crossed and brown eyes narrowed.  

               “Yer daddy got his own self in trouble,” a female voice said in a thick southern accent.  Ford looked over.  A short woman with mid-length caramel-colored hair and a very large nose was standing in the kitchen, wearing a clearly hand-embroidered apron.  Her eyes were hidden behind a pair of half-moon reading glasses. She stood in a pose similar to her daughter’s.  “Let that be a lesson.  Ya don’t lie ‘bout yer fam’ly.”  

               This must be Angie.  Fiddleford’s younger sister.  She smiled politely at him.  She’s going to hate me when she finds out what I did to her older brother.

               “You’re Stan’s wife?” he double-checked.  She nodded.  

               “Though I like to think of it as bein’ Stan’s my husband.  You must be Ford, the brother-in-law I didn’t know I had.”

               “You’d be Ms. McGucket, then,” Ford said.  She grinned crookedly, and it made Ford’s heart ache.

               That’s Fiddleford’s smile.

               “Actually, it’s Dr. McGucket,” she clarified.  “But ya can call me Angie.”

               “Oh, that’s right.  Stan mentioned you have a doctorate.”  Angie nodded again.  

               “Yessir.  In herpetology.”

               “Wow.  That’s quite the achievement.  Biology was always something that fascinated me.”

               “Well, we can talk ‘bout that over dinner, if’n ya want,” she said cheerfully.  She wiped her hands on her apron.  “I was just ‘bout to send someone to fetch ya.  Dinner’s ready.  Spaghetti and meatballs.  It’s all homemade and all kosher.”

               Kosher?  Ford looked at Stan, who was setting the table. 

               “Stan, do you practice?” he asked.  Stan shrugged.

               “Not really.  But Angie and I agreed that the girls should grow up knowin’ some of the family culture. Which means they’re bein’ raised with a weird mixture of Catholicism and Judaism, but eh.  It works out pretty well.”  He glanced over at Angie.  “Like our wedding.”  Angie smiled fondly.  

               “Speaking of, why wasn’t I invited to your wedding?” Ford asked. Stan raised an eyebrow.

               “Like ya can’t figure that out on your own.  I didn’t want ya to show up and start yellin’ ‘bout how I ruined your life in front of my fiancée’s entire family.  She’s got four older brothers, and all of them know how to use a gun.” He grimaced.  “Didn’t need ‘em to think I’d ruin her life, too.  Her folks are still suspicious about how soon the girls were born after we got married.” Stan placed the last bowl down. “Hey, lil monsters, get yourselves in here.  It’s dinnertime!”  Danny abandoned her post in front of Ford to run to the kitchen, where she was summarily lifted into her chair.  “Daisy, get your butt in the kitchen,” Stan said.  

               “Wanna play,” Daisy whined from somewhere behind Ford.  Ford turned.  Daisy was busily scrawling in a coloring book.  He squinted at the pictures.

               That’s not a children’s book.  Those are textbook photocopies.

               “I know ya like yer fancy colorin’ pages,” Angie said, taking a seat at the table, “but ya need to eat, junebug.”

               “…Fine,” Daisy sighed.  She stood up, but stopped before she reached the kitchen.  She held out her six-fingered hand to Ford.  “Hold?”

               “Uh…”  Ford looked at Stan and Angie helplessly.  Angie was clearly fighting back a grin.  Stan laughed, not bothering to hide his amusement.

               “C’mon, kid.  It’s not like he’s gonna take ya for a walk or somethin’,” Stan said.  He walked over to Daisy and picked her up, then put her in her chair at the table.  Stan took a seat next to his wife, giving her a kiss on the cheek before he sat down. Angie responded with a kiss of her own. Ford tried not to stare at the blatant display of loving, happy domesticity.

               My wild twin really did settle down.  And it’s clearly a healthy relationship.  If Mom ever found out Pops lied to her like Stan did to Angie…she wouldn’t even talk to him, let alone let him kiss her.  

               “You gon’ eat, Uncle Ford?” Daisy asked.  “It’s friendly food.”  Ford reluctantly walked to the table and sat down.  

               I can’t remember the last time I ate a meal with someone else.

               “‘Friendly food’?” he asked.  Daisy nodded.

               “It’s how we described kosher,” Stan explained.  “Easier than the whole spiel.  At least, right now.”  Angie cleared her throat.  Ford looked over at her.  Her eyes were closed.

               “On this day, we thank the Lord for the bountiful gifts he has given us,” she intoned solemnly.  Ford looked around.  The other people at the table had their heads bowed.  “We pray that he continues to bless us with food, family, and happiness. Amen.”

               “Amen,” Danny and Daisy echoed.  Stan grinned at Ford.

               “Surprised ya, huh?” Stan asked cheekily.

               “I, uh, was definitely not expecting that,” Ford said.  

               “We say grace before each meal,” Angie explained.  “It’s a tradition in my fam’ly.  But I’ve been tryin’ to make it a bit more…inclusive, since the girls ain’t just Catholic.”  Ford picked up a fork.  Angie’s eyes were immediately drawn to his hands.  Ford swallowed, once again fighting the urge to hide his polydactyly from Stan’s family.  “Stanford, Stan mentioned ya know Fiddleford?”

               “Uh, yes,” Ford replied.  “He was my college roommate.”  Angie nodded, a contemplative expression on her face.

               “I think Fidds mentioned he met his roommate again a while back.  ‘Bout seven years?  It was around the time we first met, Stan.”

               “Well, um, that wasn’t the last time I saw Fiddleford,” Ford said.  Angie cocked her head.

               “Oh?”

               “I saw him more recently, um-”

               “We can talk about that after dinner,” Stan interrupted.  

               “I wanna know!” Daisy protested.

               “It’s just boring grown-up talk, sweetness,” Angie said soothingly.  Daisy crossed her arms and pouted.  

               “You met in ’75?” Ford asked.  Stan and Angie nodded.  “How exactly did that happen, by the way?”  Angie smiled at Stan.

               “Stan showed up at my folks’ house, tryin’ to sell some sort of vacuum.”

               “Stan-Vac,” Stan supplied.  Angie chuckled.

               “You were a door-to-door salesman?” Ford asked.

               “Yeah.  My products weren’t good, but I was.  Angie’s folks still saw through me right away,” Stan said.

               “They figured this young man needed some help, so they invited him to stay fer dinner.  And then he stayed the night.  And then another night.  And then my folks asked him if he wanted to stay permanently, as a farmhand,” Angie finished.

               “When Angie came home from college for Thanksgiving break, she walked into the barn and saw me and, well, that’s how we met,” Stan said with a shrug.

               “That’s quite the series of coincidences to bring you two together,” Ford remarked.  

               “Yep,” Stan said.  He grinned at Angie.  “Glad they happened, though.”  Angie smiled back at him.

               “Ick!” Daisy said loudly.  Stan rolled his eyes.

               “What?” Ford asked.

               “The girls don’t like it when their ma ‘n dad get lovey-dovey,” Angie said.

               “‘S boring,” Danny said.

               “Then what do ya wanna talk about?” Stan asked.  Danny frowned thoughtfully.

               “Why is Uncle Ford more fingers?” she asked after a moment. Angie’s eyes widened.

               “Stanford, I’m sorry,” she said quickly.  “The girls ‘re-”

               “No, it’s fine,” Ford said.

               “They don’t mean anything by it,” Stan added.  “They’re just too curious for their own good.”

               “Seriously, it’s fine.”

               Is it, though?

               “To answer your question, Danny,” Ford continued, despite the awkwardness, “I’m a polydactyl due to a flaw in my genetic coding.”  Danny and Daisy stared at him blankly.

               “Ford.  They’re three years old,” Stan said shortly.  “They’re not in high school.”

               “Oh.  Right.”

               “He’s got extra fingers ‘cause that’s just how he is,” Angie said. “Like how some folks have red hair, and some have brown hair.”

               “I have brown hair!” Daisy said.

               “Yes, ya do.  And like yer Uncle Ford, you’ve got more ‘n ten fingers.”

               “You actually inherited that trait from your father,” Ford added.  “It runs in my family.”

               “Then why does Daddy have ten fingers?” Danny asked.

               “Some things skip generations,” Angie replied.  “Yer Gran and Gramps don’t have red hair, but yer Auntie Violynn does.  It’s just how things work sometimes.”  Danny and Daisy nodded.  Ford looked at Angie.

               “I must admit, it’s refreshing to hear a full explanation, instead of just telling them ‘That’s how things are.’”  Angie shrugged and leaned over to wipe sauce off Danny’s face.

               “The girls are too curious fer somethin’ like that to slide.  Anyways, I always hated hearin’ that, growin’ up.”  

               “I suppose you’re glad to find out where Daisy’s polydactyly came from?” Ford asked.  Angie paused.

               “Yes,” she said after a moment, in a calm, level tone.  “I suppose I am.”

----- 

               Dinner passed by cheerfully.  Though Ford, for the most part, felt like an outsider looking in, as he watched Stan and Angie flirt, carefully keep their daughters’ faces clean, and attempt to engage the girls in meaningful conversations.

               Why does Stan keep asking them what they would do in hypothetical situations involving “pug trafficking”?

              “It’s after dinner, girls,” Stan said.  “Ya know what that means.”  Daisy leapt out of her chair.

              “You’ll never catch me alive!” she shouted gleefully before bolting.  Danny followed suit.  Stan stood up with a chuckle.

              “I’m comin’ for ya,” he growled playfully, stalking after his daughters. There were squeals of joy from somewhere else inside the house as he left Ford’s field of vision.  Angie began to clear the table, humming to herself.  

              “What, exactly, is going on?” Ford asked.  Angie smiled fondly.  

              “It’s a bathtime ritual thing.  Stan started it.  He’s a goofball, that husband of mine.”  

              “Gotcha!” Stan shouted.  There were more delighted squeals.  Angie chuckled.

              “Stan’s a heck of a father, by the way.  After my maternity leave ended, we couldn’t find anyone to watch the girls. Well, not anyone that Stan thought was good enough for his babies.  Stan told me ‘Ya know what, I’ve always hated my job anyways.’  Quit that very same day.”

              “So he’s a stay-at-home dad?”

              “Yessir.”  Angie deposited the dirty dishes in the sink and began to clean them.  “I appreciate how involved he is in raisin’ ‘em.  I’m pretty busy most days, so it eases my mind to know that they’ve got one of their parents watchin’ ‘em.”

              “Wow.”

              “What are ya impressed by?”

              “Honestly?  All of it,” Ford said.  Angie looked at him, bemused.  “I never thought Stan would settle down, or have a kid, or, if I’m being completely truthful, if he did have a kid, I didn’t suspect he would make an excellent father.” Angie pursed her lips.  “I mean, I thought he’d be a serviceable one.  But not the one I saw today.  It’s not like we got any ideas from how to be a good father from our own.”  Angie nodded silently.

              “That’s understandable.  But it’s fer the best if ya don’t say that ya weren’t expectin’ Stan to be a good dad. It means a lot to him that his kids adore him so much.  He’s put a lot of stake in his abilities as a father.  He don’t need to hear that negativity from his twin.”

              “…Of course.”  A few minutes passed while Angie continued to wash the dishes.  Ford looked around the kitchen.  Like much of the house, it was tastefully decorated, in bright colors with pictures on the walls.  Ford cleared his throat.  “So, um, did you take these pictures?” he asked.  Angie beamed.

               “Yessir.  Well, all of ‘em ‘cept fer the ones of me.  I’ve always been a fan of photography.  Had my own camera since I was thirteen.  Pretty useful when I did field work fer my thesis.  Can’t draw worth a darn, but I can make a salamander look like a movie star in a picture.”  She shrugged. “If the lightin’ is right, ‘course.” Stan walked into the kitchen, slightly dampened.

               “Kids are tucked in,” he said, taking a seat at the table.  Ford eyed him curiously.

               “Did you take a bath as well?” Ford asked.  Stan laughed.

               “Nah, the girls just like to have splash wars.”  Angie put aside the dishes and joined her husband at the table.

               “So, Stanford,” she said in a business-like manner, “at dinner, ya said that back in ’75 weren’t the last time ya saw Fiddleford?”

               “Uh, no.  Far from it,” Ford replied.  “He actually was my assistant, up in Gravity Falls.”  Angie frowned.

               “Yer assistant?”

               “Yes.”

               “But Fidds was hired by someone named Stanford Pines, not Stanford-”  She cut herself off and crossed her arms. “All right, which one of ya changed yer last name?” she asked, looking back and forth between Stan and Ford.

               “What?” Ford asked.  Angie turned to Stan.

              “Stanley!”

              “Hey, you knew I was a grifter.  I went through a lot of different names.  And I ended up takin’ yours anyways so-”

              “Ya didn’t tell me yer real name!  Ya didn’t tell me that, and neither did ya tell me ya had a twin brother!”

              “Angie-”

              “We’re married.  We have two beautiful children.  We need to be able to trust each other with our secrets.”  Stan looked down, abashed.  “I hope ya know where yer sleepin’ tonight.”  Angie leaned in.  “An’ it ain’t our bed.”

              “Yeah, figured,” Stan mumbled.  He glowered at Ford.  “Way to go, Sixer, Tuesdays are the nights we get it on.”

              “I wasn’t the one who lied to your wife,” Ford said defensively.

               “Stanford,” Angie said suddenly, “if Fidds was yer assistant, do ya know what happened to him?  No one’s heard from him in weeks.  We’re gettin’ awfully worried ‘bout him.”  A deep discomfort knotted in Ford’s stomach.

              “He’s…not himself.”

              “What do ya mean?”

              “He’s lost his sanity.”  Angie’s eyes filled with tears.  “I’m so sorry, Angie.  I- it’s my fault.”  

              “Wh- how?”

              “It was through the course of our research that he- shit!”  Ford scrabbled backward, falling out of his chair in the process.  Angie had launched herself at him.  Stan grabbed her torso, preventing her from actually harming him.

              “Angie, what the hell are ya doin’?” Stan asked her.  

              “He has a son!” Angie yelled at Ford.  “A fam’ly.  An’ it’s yer fault that he’s gone?  Worse than gone, he’s there in body but he ain’t there in mind!”

              “Angie, chill!” Stan hissed.  “He explained it to me earlier.  It’s not completely his fault.”  He nodded at Ford.  “Tell her.”

               “It’s- Fiddleford saw something that drove him mad.  The domain of a former research partner of mine,” Ford said. Angie glared at him.

               “Yer not helpin’ yer case, Stanford,” she growled.  “It still sounds an awful lot like it’s yer fault that Fidds is- is-”

               “I don’t think he’s completely lost,” Ford said.  Angie blinked.

               “Really?”

               “No, I- I think he can be saved.  It will be difficult and fairly intensive, but you can have your brother back.” Angie sat down again.  Stan kept an arm wrapped firmly around her torso.  

               “All right,” she said softly.  “If yer willin’ to help bring him back to his fam’ly-”

               “And I am,” Ford said quickly.  “Very much so.”  Angie nodded.

               “Okay.  Now, tell us ‘bout this former partner of yours.  What kind of person is he, to have a sanity-wreckin’ ‘domain’?” she asked. Ford sighed.

               “This is going to sound insane, but…a demon.”  Angie and Stan stared at him blankly.

               “A demon?” Angie parroted.

               “Sixer, what in the hell are ya talkin’ about?” Stan asked.

               “Bill Cipher is a dream demon.  He- he assisted in the construction of a device of mine.  Something to allow for interdimensional travel.  But he lied to me.”

               “Demons tend to do that,” Angie said flatly.

               “Ford, how are we supposed to believe ya?” Stan asked.  “A demon?  Seriously?” Ford sighed.

               “I know.  And I don’t have much by the way of proof.  Beyond, well, this.”  He took his first journal out of his trenchcoat pocket and handed it to Stan. Stan placed it on the table and opened it.  He and Angie skimmed the journal with interest.

               “This is either the truth, or a very powerful and complex delusion,” Angie said slowly, after reading a few pages.  She looked at Stan.  “I’m goin’ to defer to you on this, sweet potata.  Ya know Stanford.”

               “This is real,” Stan said softly.  “Ford wouldn’t make all this up.  And he’s not like your cousin Thistlebert.  He’s not a madman.”  Angie nodded.

               “Okay.”  She looked at Ford.  “We might need some more proof eventually, but fer the time bein’, we believe ya.”

               “R-really?” Ford asked, surprised.  

               “Yes,” Angie said.  “And we’ll help ya.”

               “Like I said, Ford, no one messes with my family,” Stan said.  He grimaced.  “Even if it is a ‘dream demon’ that’s tryin’ to wreck my twin’s life. What’s the difference between a dream demon and a normal demon, anyway?”

               “Well, that’s a rather complicated topic,” Ford said.  “The difference-”

               “Stanford, maybe that’s a conversation you can have with Stan later,” Angie said.  “I have to be up early tomorrow fer work, so I shouldn’t stay up much longer.  Do ya have any questions fer us right now?”

               “Actually, yes.  Stanley, when I called, why didn’t you tell me you were a married father?” Ford asked. Stan crossed his arms and leaned back.

               “I didn’t hear from ya in over ten years.  Then ya call me up, askin’ me to go to a different state to help ya. Forgive me for not wantin’ to tell ya ‘bout the life ya clearly weren’t interested in,” Stan said bitterly.

               “I didn’t know how to contact you,” Ford said.  Stan’s eyes narrowed.

               “Bull.  I’ve had a steady phone number since 1975.  Ya coulda gone through Mom before, but ya only did it last week.  Ya didn’t wanna talk to me.  Do us both a favor and quit lyin’.”  Ford resisted the urge to look down like a scolded child.  Angie frowned.

               “But when I got here, why all the secrecy?  I had to figure out that you were married and who the girls were on my own,” Ford soldiered on.  Stan shrugged.  “That’s not an answer.”

               “Maybe ya figured it out before I got a chance to tell ya like I planned,” Stan said.  “Maybe I was nervous about tellin’ ya I settled down, when everyone, includin’ me, said I wouldn’t.  Maybe I’ve got a flair for dramatics.  Who knows.”

               “Stan,” Angie intervened, “did ya mention Ford contactin’ yer mother?”

               “Yeah, why?” Stan asked.  Angie crossed her arms and glowered at him.  “…I just bought myself another night on the couch, didn’t I?”

               “More like three.  Yer mother’s alive?  Is everything ya told me ‘n my fam’ly a lie?”

               “No!”

               “Are ya sure?  ‘Cause it’s startin’ to feel that way.”

               “Angie-” Stan started.  Angie sighed.

               “I know ya had yer reasons.  But the lyin’, this can’t keep goin’ on!  Is there anything else you’ve kept from me?”

               “No,” Stan said firmly.  

               “Are ya sure?”

               “Yes.”  After a pause, Angie nodded.

               “Okay.”  She stood up. “Tomorrow, we can discuss a way to deal with this Bill problem.”  She shook her head.  “Bill. That’s quite the normal name fer a demon.  Is his full name William or somethin’?”

               “I’m not sure.  I never asked,” Ford said, surprised by her candidness.

               “Ah, well.”  Angie looked Ford up and down.  “Don’t take this the wrong way, Stanford, but…yer a bit of a walkin’ disaster right now.”

               “I’m well aware.”

               “Stan, would ya get yer twin some towels and show him how to use the shower? Oh, and lend him some of yer clothes, please.”

               “There’s no need to do that,” Ford said quickly, holding his coat tightly. “I’m perfectly fine in the outfit I’m wearing.”

               “Stanford, please, just borrow some of Stan’s stuff.  I can throw yer clothes in the laundry tomorrow mornin’ and it’ll be done by dinner.”

               “But-”

               “You can keep yer coat,” she said with a smile.  Ford relaxed slightly.

               “All right.  Stan’s clothes won’t fit me, though, I’ll have you know.”  She nodded.

               “I know.  But they’ll fit better ‘n mine or the girls’ would.”  Angie kissed Stan on the cheek.  “Darlin’, don’t forget, yer sleepin’ on the couch tonight.”

               “I know,” Stan muttered.  He stood up. “C’mon, Ford, I’ll show ya how to use the shower.  It’s a bit tricky.”  Ford followed Stan to the bathroom.  He could hear Angie hum as she resumed cleaning the dishes.

               Well, I just completely overturned their normal, happy, life, didn’t I.