#it’s really sad that we do and now i’m completely off topic and rambling | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

iwadori · 4 years ago

Note

are you going to do a 'when the haikyuu boys make you insecure' part with Iwaizumi / could I request that?

When they make you insecure part 6 (Iwaizumi,Matsukawa)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Word Count: 2.8K

Genre: Angst, Fluff

masterlist

AN: Did I embedd myself in this story? Yes, yes i did. :3 (it’s only a small part dw loool)

Iwaizumi

One day when you were walking to the gym to go see your boyfriend

You overhear him and the team talking about some instagram girl

“She’s hot” you hear Boktuo yell doing a hoot as he fawns over a picture, with the rest of the guys agreeing.

“What do you think Iwaizumi?” Hinata ask

“She’s cute... I guess?” the rest of the guys, grunt in disagreement at Iwa’s lack of drooling over the girl.

“Well I see why you wouldn’t want her Haji-kun,” says Atsumu “you are into the more simple girls bro”

“Simple?” Iwaizumi questions, and the rest of the guys agree

“Yeah simple, you know Y/N... she’s simple” says one of the guys, with the word ‘simple’ rolling off their tounge with a tone of disgust.

“I guess your right guys...” Iwaizumi says “Y/N is pretty basic and simple but-”

You leave the gym before you hear what the rest of them had to say. When you got to your house you bolt straight to the mirror, you look at your outfit and frown. You never thought your style was ‘basic,’ to be fair you wouldn’t describe anybodys style as basic or simple. Of course, you weren’t like those instagram influencers, that wasn’t your thing. But Iwa has known that about you for years... but I guess that’s not what he truly likes.

You go to your closet and take out all the contents, just tossing all your clothes (even some of your favourite items ever) and dashing them in a black trash bag putting them to the side. You were already on a mission to buy a whole new wardrobe, going through all different stores and looking on pinterest for inspo.

You didn’t really talk to Iwa for the rest of the week, since you wanted him to see you in your ‘new form,’ you weren’t being radiosilent but you didn’t initiate any hang outs with him or face time calls (which he did find slightly odd, but didn’t think that much by it.)

Finally, the clothes came and you were kind of shocked at how much you ordered you spent over £200 on clothes from all different places. When you were trying them on, you liked some of them the ones that were kind of similar to your past style but not so ‘simple,’ the others you kind of frowned at since it definitely didn’t feel like ‘you’ at all. ‘This is for Iwa,’ you reminded yourself as your forced a smile on your face analysing yourself in the mirror.

You had everything sorted, your wardrobe was now changed and done the colours and styles you once wore before is now the complete opposite. You invited Iwa over, hesistantly waiting to see how would he react.

When you hear your door knock, you rush over to open it and model a pose you saw one of those girl do trying to look as natural as possible.

“Hey babe ho-” he says, with his eyes widening seeing your new look “Woah Y/N!”

“Hey Haji..come in!” you exclaim with a beaming smile pulling him inside to the couch. “So, are we going to continue watching the crown, I watched the previous episode and god prince phillip is such a dick.”

You look over your shoulder and see Iwa still standing in your entranceway a bit awkwardly, looking a bit stunned. “Come sit down then, we’ve got an episode to watch.”

“uh oh yeah, sure” he says blinking, following you to the couch.

You got through atleast 4 episodes together, you barely talked as you were really engrossed in the show. Iwa was barely paying attention, he was too busy questioning how you were acting. This definitely wasn’t the girl he knew, even the way you were acting whilst watch the show was odd. The way you’d cutely giggle and ‘sublty’ look over to him whilst laughing at a funny part of the show instead of just doing your usual obnoxious laugh that he loved to hear.

“Oh Y/N, I’m going to go to the bathroom.” he says standing up, you don’t reply you just wave your hand in acknowledgement.

On his way to the bathroom, Iwa nearly trips on a black bag left outside your bedroom door. He opens it, and mildly gasped when he saw all your old stuff jumbled up in there. He picks up the back and goes straight back to the living room and stands in front of you.

“Haji, what are you doing you’re blocking the TV” you complaining trying to see what’s happening behind him.

He drops the black bag infront of you and you internally curse yourself for not moving. You stare at him waiting for him to say something.

“Well whats this then.” he says looking down at you, almost like a disapproving dad.

“Clothes.” you say smartly, knowing what he was asking.

“You know what I meant Y/N, why are all your clothes in a garbage bag.”

“Because I wanted to put them there,” you wanted to seem as nochalant about it as possible as if putting all your clothes in a garbage bag doesn’t make you feel sad.

“Yeah but why?” he says sitting down next to you.

“Just because I wanted to” you reiterate “what else do you want me to say?”

“Well this isn’t like you, its just a bit random Y/N” he says

“I know this isnt like me you” you spat, standing up “Isn’t this what you wanted anyways.” You head to your bedroom picking up the bag with you, with Iwa hot on your heels.

“What do you mean this is what I wanted?” he says in disbelief “When did I ever say that?”

“It doesn’t matter” you mumble, you start to aggressively take our your old clothes and shove them back into your wardrobe whilst Iwa is just talking. You’re not really listening to him your just putting the clothes back.

“Y/N Stop!” he yells kind of knocking you out of your ‘trance,’ “what is going on with you?” he grabs you hands and pulls them down stopping you from what you were doing and he winced at seeing your tear stricken face.

He gently pulls you into his arms sitting you both on your bed, waiting for you to speak. “I don’t know what you want from me Iwa..” you start your voice slightly breaking “it’s just I did this all for you and you don’t even appreciate it.”

“I don’t know what you mean Y/N?” he says sounding genuinely confused.

“Y/N is simple and basic.” you say repeating words that you heard your boyfriend say about you, you feel him tense as you say it and you slowly get out of his hug.

“Y/N I-”

“That really hurt Hajime, I know now that I'm not your ‘type’ but I-”

“No Y/N, you are my type of course you are!” he says gulping in nervousness “I love you, and your style. I’ve always being enamored by how you dress and present yourself and I don’t know why I even said you’re basic and simple I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Really?” you say sniffling looking down

“Yes really you idiot,” he says lifting your head up “To be fair I don’t care what you wear, since you look great in anthing I just want you to be happy Y/N and especially not dress for anyone including me. Okay?”

“Okay,” you agree slightly nodding your head.

“Good, so can we go and finish the crown and then burn all these clothes?” Iwa jokes as he stands up.

“Burn them!” you exclaim “These cost £200, you muppet.”

“£200! Gosh Y/N, next time you go shopping im definitely coming with you.” he says shaking his head “can’t have you blowing out your bank account for clothes you don’t even like that much.”

You spend the rest of the day finishing of The Crown and you and Iwa eventually both sort out your wardrobe. Your style and aethetic changes a lot more through the times you were together and Iwa was very supportive and helpful of every single change. Especially *insert your favourite dress aesthetic here.*

Matsukawa

You were walking with your friends; Iwa, Tooru, Maki and your boyfriend Matsun. Walking to school as you did every morning, today the topic of conversation was Tooru’s bad taste in women.

“Gosh yesterday was horrible, she didn’t want to talk to me at all,” he complained “all she wanted to do was to come straight to my place, I didn’t even have the chance to tell her my hair routine.”

“That’s why you don’t find dates off of Tinder shittykawa” grunted Iwaizumi

“Well I know that now!” he exclaimed.

“Y/N,” said Makki grasping your attention “Would you ever use Tinder?”

“Well I-”

“Of course she wouldn’t” your boyfriend interrupted wrapping his arm round your shoulder “she’s got me”

“Yeah, but if you two weren’t together, would you use it.”

“Well may-”

“Y/N definitely wouldn’t” he said interrupting you AGAIN “she’s way to frigid for that shit”

Frigid? You thought to yourself, ouch. Their was a quick awkward silence and all you could hear was Matsukawa laughing with the others laughing after awkwardly in pursuit. After sensing your uncomfortability (is that a word?) Oikawa decides to change the subject to make things less awkward,

“I need a woman who understands me!” he rants “One that can listen to me and appreciate my awesome hair.”

“Goodluck with that Shittykawa.”

Oikawa rambles on as you walk to school with the other guys chiming in. You on the other hand, were lost in thought. Your sex life wasn’t something you would want to publicly talk about let alone to you and your boyfriends' male friends. Also, with Matsun describing you as ‘frigid’ struck a nerve. You weren’t frigid, well at least to you, you weren’t.

When you got to school you immediately rushed straight to your lesson claiming that you teacher really needed to talk to you. Which was odd to Matsukawa as you usually all hung around each other until the bell rang, the other boys gave each other knowing looks all assuming the reasons for your odd behaviour.

At lunch time, you stayed in your class instead of going up to the roof where you and your friends usually end up. In the class room you hear one of the girls in your class, Empress having one of her usual gossip conversations with her group of friends.

“Hajime is so hot!” she said, fanning her face being dramatic

“Of course he is! You should totally go for him.” her friend said and the rest of the friends agreed.

“What do you think Y/N?” she says to you catching your attention “you’re close friends with him right?”

“Yeah, I am” you say a bit sadly “You should definitely go for him, I think you’d be perfect together.”

“Okay! I think I might later” she says smiling. Her and friends leave, but then Empress returns and walks straight to you.

“Are you alright doll?” she asks softly smiling

“I guess so..” you say hesitantly “It’s just something my boyfriend said to me this morning.”

“Matsun?” she asks and you nod in reply “What did he say?”

After you rehash the situation from this morning Empress scowls in annoyance, “Boys can be such pigs sometimes, such a dick thing to say.”

“I know right!” you respond “Even if I was frigid, which im totally not it’s not even a bad thing nor is it something to reveal to people in public in a ‘jokey’ way.”

“Yeah!” she agrees “I think you should go and give him a piece of your mind.”

“I mean...” your voice falters, when it comes to Matsun you’ve never really given him a ‘piece of your mind,’ even when he makes jokes that you’re not so fond of.

“Come on!” she encourages “I’ll come with you and cheer you on.”

“You just want to come to see Iwa Empress” you say pointedly “But fine let’s go.”

You both power walk to the roof where you see the four seijoh boys sitting down and eating. “Oh hi Y/N/-chan and look Iwa its Emp-chan... isn’t that a surprise!” Iwa blushes and the rest of the guys laugh.

You walk straight up to Matsun and stand right infront of him. “Matsukawa I need to talk to you,” you say folding your arms. “Why whats up babe?” he says, still sitting down with a cheeky grin on his face.

“Alone.” you say turning around walking to a secluded spot. Behind you, you hear Matsun get up and the rest of the boys saying “oooh Matsukawa your in trouble” as they laugh.

“What’s wrong with you today Y/N?” he asks slightly accusatorily.

“I didn’t appreciate the comment you made today on the way to school,” you say with your arms folded.

“Oh that little comment about you being frigid, come on it was just a joke I wasn’t being serious.” he says lightly laughing but he stops once he sees the glare you give him ”you knew it was a joke right?”

“Matsun, some are your jokes just aren’t funny,” you say “especially when they're about me and our sex life in front of our friends too.”

“Y/N I didn’t mea-”

“You just come off as a huge dick sometimes, and I can’t do this anymore if you keep on making these comments anymore I don’t think I can do this.”

“Woah Y/N, are you threatening to break up with me?” he asks “Over a few little comments?”

“These aren’t a few little comments, sometimes what you say is just unnecessary and rude.”

“Okay well...”

“Well...” you repeat staring at him waiting for to apologise or atleast say something, “fuck you Matsukawa.”

You storm away and walk bout to the group saying “Empress lets go.” She jumps of Iwa’s lap and waves by to them following you back down to the school. You walk into the bathroom and just start to cry, “Y/N whats wrong?” Empress says pulling you into a hug

“H-He doesn’t care,” you cry “He pretty much excused his stupid comments, passing them off as little ‘jokes,’ that didn’t apparently mean anything.”

“Oh dear,” Empress says consoling you “he’s not worth your time right now.”

“B-but but I love him.” you wail fat tears streaming down your face.

“I know sweetheart, I know,” she says letting go of the hug “so what do you wanna do about him?”

“I don’t know,” you say “I don’t want to break up with him or anything, but is there a point in staying if he’s just going to make these comments again.”

“I don’t know Y/N, but whatever you wanna do I’ll support. Wether it’s keying his car or reading shitty fanfiction and crying.” Empress says making you laugh.

The final bell rings and now it's time to go home, of course you don’t walk with the guys so you just enjoy your own company walking home.

“Y/N! Y/N!” you hear from behind you and of course the only person it can be is Matsukawa.

“What do you want?” you mumbled

“I..I want too” he says heaving out of breath from the running he had to do “I want to apologise. I need do.”

“Okay...” you respond

“Im sorry, Im so so sorry,” he says “those jokes and comments were stupid and I agree I can be a dick sometimes. Well a lot of the time, but I never wanted to be a dick to you.”

“Well you were.”

“I know I was, and I’m so sorry. There’s no excuse what I said and what I have said before I just hope I can make it up to you.”

“Okay then.”

“So are we not broken up?”

“No we’re not broken up, but it’ll take a lot of making up to do for me to fully forgive you.”

“Great! And I'll spend every day to get you to forgive me.”

Which he did, he spent every day showering you with love and affection. He was way better than he was before, you even went on double dates with Oikawa and his flavour of the week and triple dates with Iwa and his girlfriend. Matsukawa, although he still made jokes, he never targeted them and centered them around you in an insulting way.

AN: I didn’t really like the matsukawa one since i couldn’t really write for him properyl sooo sorry bout that one kids.

#haikyuu x reader comfort #haikyu angst #haikyu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyu scenarios #haikyu headcanons #haikyu #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi angst #iwaizumi scenarios #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi fluff #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa angst #matsukawa fluff #matsukawa oneshot #signedwithane😌

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artificialstrontium · 2 years ago

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dsmp finale spoilers, discussion of abuse

Ok so this rambling might be a tad unorganized but here’s my thoughts: The ending has been worked on for a long while now, so it’s not to say that it’s rushed. But seeing other’s reactions, it didn’t come across or land right, a miscommunication on the writer’s end (as I know people have been very vocal about making sure Tommy knows what a character like this means).

That was a tragic ending. I know cc Tommy said he wanted his character to have a soft ending, and surface level it is that (having a do-over without pain is a wonderful thought, no?), but i can see why people are upset over a victim coming to an understanding and even unknowingly starting a friendship with his abuser, as well as spending his last moments believing he was just as in the wrong as his actual fuckin abuser. These topics deserve respect when handling on account of everyone whose reality is like c!Tommy’s. And there’s no way Tommy messing around at the start is equivalent to the pain inflicted on him by c!Dream ( & c!Dream planting evidence against c!Tommy before the house burning?helloo??). I’ve seen people say maybe what Tommy was going for was leaving his character’s character good and intact, like a superhero movie, or others pointing out that understanding isn’t necessarily forgiveness. Unfortunately, superhero movies don’t always equate perfectly to real life, people don’t always get the choice to do that or take the morally high road, whatever that is.

Also from Tubbo’s POV, that’s not a fun ending! He tried so hard and failed to reach his friend in time, and all he could do was wait for the inevitable (not that c!Tubbo was ever guaranteed a good ending). Not to mention there’s loose ends everywhere. (can be taken into account IRL reasons for those loose ends, such as cc’s getting back to their normal lives after quarantine and that stall)

It can be said that stories can have tragic endings, some stories are made to make the reader uncomfortable so they check their understanding of the world (still, fuck Brave New World, me an my homies hate Brave New World). Some stories have a terrible or tragic ending of a season, have a hiatus, and roll right into a new one, which is where some cc’s are probably thinking in terms of lore (off the top my head, SPN season 5 bc it genuinely was supposed to end there and some of the middle seasons of GOT). But I think to the cc’s themselves, it’s also worth pointing out having too much of one thing (c!Tommy being a victim of abuse and never really getting a lasting win, unresolved things with other characters now that we know what happens to the DSMP) is draining to a lot of people in this audience, and that many people have been hoping for a good place to leave off before hopping to other fandoms.

It can also be said the DSMP was never guaranteed a good ending, writing-wise or feelings-wise (I'll argue there’s a difference), taking in the fact it started out not as a story-based thing.

I’m generally a positive person, so what I’m choosing to do is stick around, wait for that alt stream because cc Tommy said earlier he’d chat about c!Dream being a fucking nightmare of a person. I’ll see what they do for volume two (because it can’t be all if “the dsmp will return” and “This is not the end...” is to be believed), if it’s a complete memory wipe situation or if they slowly regain memories (I can’t be sure, but c!Tubbo calling c!Tommy cheese-haired makes me have hope someone remembers or they’ll do something with that). (For the sake of transparency I will also say that honestly a lot of this writing piece is me making sense of that ending and trying to distract that it made me feel a bit ill).

I’m sorry to the people who were sticking around for just this ending before leaving, I’m sorry you are going on such a bitter note, and I’m genuinely sad for the people whose pain is renewed with an ending like that.

The DSMP means a lot to me, as someone who’s been watching since before it was a month old. I’ve seen people say this, so I’ll say it here too, but these characters, their stories, also belong to us, the fans. The writers can write whatever ending they want, but in the end, if what you want to take away from a story is just the characters and their middle journey, and continue creating because you loved that part only, all the power to you! If any of that makes sense, lol.

#dsmp #dream smp #c!dream neg #somewhat of a critical analysis #tw abuse #my unorganized thoughts #lore spoilers

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sunlight-moonrise · 4 years ago

Text

The Law of Attraction (Reid Imagine)

Summary: Reader cannot understand how Spencer is in a relationship with someone who is his complete opposite.

A/N: Hello Everyone!!! Here’s another story from the secret-fic-swap in the Discord server. I tried my hand at a new genre and I like how it came out. A big thank you to @imagining-in-the-margins for helping me make this real nice for y’all (this story was also written to her). Enjoy!

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Content Warnings: If you’re a fan of Max or Maxcer, this may not be the story for you. Sacrifices needed to be made for this story to be told.

Word Count: 4.2K

Masterlist

The thought that the concept of ‘opposites attract’ was only true when it comes to physics. After all, the comparison of people to magnets doesn’t make any sense. If two people are together, there should be some similarities to build an established relationship, right? Without that foundation, the structure will surely crumble back into the fragmented pieces that created it, leaving them cracked and weaker for it.

Compatibility is necessary, yet there is none whenever I look at them. This is the fourth function that he has brought her to, and with each event, I find it harder to look their way. But when I do find them among the crowd, I can’t look away. Like a car crash or thunderstorm ripping tree roots from the ground.

It doesn’t make sense to me, why on earth would Spencer Reid be with a girl like her.

“If you keep staring at her, she might drop dead,” said a sarcastic voice, breaking me out of my reverie. I turned to see Tara with an amused smile occupying her face.

“I just don’t get it,” I mumbled, focusing my attention on the drink in my hand.

“What’s not to get?” she asked, glancing over at the couple in question. “They seem cute together.”

“They have nothing in common. He might as well be talking to some random person in this bar.”

I chugged the remainder of my beverage with desperate hope that the alcohol will somehow make things better in this situation. It didn’t.

“You sound bitter.”

“I am not bitter,” I bit back.

“I didn’t say you were, I said you sound.”

I didn’t respond to her because deep down I knew she was right. I just fiddled with the straw in my now empty glass as Tara continued, “Look, they both like coffee and going to the park, that’s something.”

I couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped my throat at the thought.

“So do half the people on the administration floor, he might as well have a harem if those are the main qualifications.”

“So what type of person should Spencer Reid have?” she asked, an eyebrow arching up as she focused her attention on me.

“I don’t know. Someone who is family-oriented and loves kids. Someone who doesn’t judge him for his idiosyncrasies. Someone who listens to his rambles and actually responds to them. Someone who he can escape to when things get too tough. Someone who understands when to give him space but will continue to support him unconditionally. Someone who can challenge him and make each day exciting and interesting. Someone who can ke—”

“Whoa there, I didn’t think you were going to give me a whole novel.” If she thought that was a novel, then the rest of what I wanted to say would be considered an encyclopedia. The only one that Spencer would never read.

“I just want him to be happy,” I relented.

It was the simple truth. Everyone deserves some sort of contentment in their life, but with everything that Spencer has gone through in the past, his happiness should be at the forefront. He always put others before himself. It was time that someone prioritizes his wants and needs for a change.

“And she doesn’t make him happy?”

Not in the slightest.

But I didn’t want to say that. I was sure half of the team already thought, or knew, that I was infatuated with him. But I didn’t need to give them the satisfaction of a confirmation by talking about this any further. The looks that Tara had been giving me the past few minutes validated my belief that I didn’t need to dig myself into a deeper hole.

“Maybe,” I said, hoping to put an end to the topic.

But just then, I heard a laugh despite how noisy the place was. I knew without a doubt that was Spencer’s laugh – it was the only sound that would demand my attention that quickly. It was the one he used when he felt uncomfortable.

“Excuse me, Tara.”

I didn’t give her a chance to reply before I hopped off the barstool and made my way to where Spencer and his girl were as casually as possible. Jennifer and Penelope were also with them, and it seems as if the three ladies were doing most of the talking.

“….like kids someday?” I heard Pen say. I didn’t need to hear the beginning of the sentence to know what it was about.

“Ehh, certainly not. My nephew is a handful as is, I don’t think I need any more than that one in my life,” she laughed. She, of course, being the ever loving, ever annoying, Max. A quick glance at Spencer's face confirmed that he was bothered by the subject being discussed. If the rest of the ladies were a bit more sober, they’d probably have seen it too.

“Hey guys,” I interrupted, taking my previous seat next to JJ, “I ordered some water for us and some appetizers. Tara is going to bring it over when it is ready.”

Cheers and thank you were shouted across the small table, but there was only one face I cared to pay attention to. Spencer’s mouth was quirked in a sad smile that was meant to hide the discomfort that had already taken root in his heart like an invasive vine.

“Did you place my fries order?” Max asked, garnering my attention. As much as I wanted to ignore her, I couldn’t. I wouldn’t openly be a bitch to her, no matter how much she irked me. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Other than stealing the affections of a man I’d never actually pursued, that is. But I couldn’t really blame her for that one, right? I should’ve jumped on the opportunity before. It was my fault.

“Yup,” I answered quickly with a small fake smile before focusing on the wooden décor of the bar.

“So any plans for Halloween? Assuming we don’t get called in for a case of course,” JJ asked the table.

“There is this pop-up haunted house coming that weekend.” Spencer said, his voice laced with that childlike excitement that made my heart race, “It is near the annual fair, so I’m going to try and do both.”

“Awww, that’s a cute date idea.”

The table was silent for a moment before Max announced, “I probably won’t go. I am not a big fan of anything spooky or… horror. I’ll leave all of that to this guy.”

The table shared an awkward laugh in a poor attempt to lighten the mood.

“Anyway,” I coughed out, attempting to save this poor conversation, “you guys need to hear this terrible joke the bartender told me. So basically, this screwdriver walks into a bar….” and just like that, the topic had been changed.

Tara joined us shortly after and the conversation remained lighthearted for the remainder of the evening. We later said our farewells and readied ourselves to go back home. While I should’ve been sad to leave him, I couldn’t help but feel a bitter joy from the fact that Spencer and Max didn’t talk directly to each other for the rest of the night.

●●●

It’s been a couple of weeks since the last team outing. Rossi must’ve missed us, because he decided to host a dinner at his place to celebrate the ending of a long and tough case. No one was going to pass up the opportunity of free food and wine, especially after dealing with a bunch of cops and detectives with entire tree trunks up their asses.

I was the last to arrive, which was not surprising since I live the furthest away from Rossi. Krystall welcomed and settled me in while informing me where everyone was. What I assumed was a team gathering turned out to be a whole party. There were definitely more than two dozen people occupying the space.

Good god.

“What’s all this?” I asked as I greeted Rossi in the, thankfully, empty kitchen. Because, of course, Rossi wouldn’t be Rossi if he didn’t take care of all the hors d'oeuvres himself.

“Krystall wanted to celebrate our anniversary,” he sighed, as if this ordeal was somehow troublesome. I had to roll my eyes; he wasn’t fooling anyone. We all knew that Rossi would move mountains for his wife.

Their love was pure and genuine, a perfect example of two people meeting again at the right time and sharing something wonderful with one another. As I reminisced on their beautiful wedding day, a thought came to my head.

“Isn’t your first anniversary coming up in a few months?”

“That’s for our second marriage, this is for the first.” Rossi simply stated with a proud smirk, as if it was standard to celebrate any and all anniversaries in life. I supposed that for him, it was.

“Why do I get the feeling that this was more your idea than Krystall’s?”

“Guilty.”

Classic. Well, I wasn’t going to tell a man what he should celebrate nor how to do so. I wasn’t going to ruin any opportunities to eat some fresh crostini.

Once I made my way back out into the main room, I was able to find my team within seconds. My eyes instantly landed on Spencer’s tall and lanky form. And I would’ve been excited for that, if it weren’t for the familiar woman standing beside him.

Max was there. Hooray.

Usually, I was able to properly prepare myself for seeing her. It actually, unfortunately, took a lot of effort to not be openly hostile to someone I dislike. It wasn’t something I was proud of, but it was true. Typically in a situation like this, I’d avoid the person all night. However, I wasn’t going to allow her presence to influence the night, much less stop me from spending time with one of my closest friends.

“Hey guys.”

“Ahh, you’re finally here,” squealed Penelope, “I already grabbed your favorite drink!” She stepped aside to make room for me in the small gathered circle before handing me the glass.

“So what did I miss?”

They all caught me up on the harmless gossip circulating around the office and the new happenings emerging in everyone’s lives. Everything was going well until I heard the next words from Max, words that felt like a bucket of ice water and lead being poured over my head.

“Well, Spencer and I are moving in together.”

Time slowed down, I was sure it had. Because I was able to gauge everything in a matter of seconds. Tara’s concerning glance my way, her hand reaching out and retreating as if to hold me. Penelope’s joyful appearance over the news, her arms rising quickly causing her wine to slightly spill on Rossi’s floor. Matt expressing congratulations as he roughly patted Spencer on the back.

And Spencer….

Spencer looked like he rather be anywhere but here. His lips were drawn in a too tight smile that I knew was far from authentic. He was tapping his heel against the floor and wringing his hands together.

If this was merry news from the two of them, why did he look like he swallowed a spiked fruit?

The loud clanging of metal against glass brought everyone’s attention to the noisy source. Time returned back to its normal pace at Rossi’s call, thanking everyone for joining in on the celebration and announcing that the food was ready in the dining room.

While everyone cheered and made their way towards the ornate display, I headed to the balcony. It was too hot, too stuffy, too loud inside the house. There was one too many people there.

As soon as I passed through the double doors, I took a deep breath of cool, refreshing air. Everything around me felt muffled. Like I had stumbled into a small pocket universe that only differed from ours by a few notches on the volume knob.

I was thinking too many things, and none of them adding up or making sense in my head. How do you move in with someone you’ve only known for such a short amount of time? What was he going to do with his apartment? With his personal belongings that were scattered and settled on crowded shelves? Why did he look so uncomfortable when she announced it? Did he not want us to know? Did he want to say it himself?

“What are you doing out here?”

As if being brought back to reality by the very same hypnotist who enchanted me in the first place, I became aware that I was not the only one on the balcony. I turned to look at Spencer, taking in his disheveled and tired appearance.

“I just needed some space. I was feeling a bit crowded.” It wasn’t a lie, but my companion and I both knew there was a lot more than just that. Trying to keep the attention off me, I asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Checking on you. I saw you come out here dressed like that and wondered what would drag you out into the freezing cold.”

Now that he mentioned it, the breeze was hitting hard. I didn’t notice my body trembling until now. It is funny how you can’t feel much when lost in your own thoughts. The pain was a welcome distraction, I supposed.

Spencer stood next to me and shrugged off the suit jacket he was wearing. I opened my mouth to refuse, but he gave me a pointed look before I could. Instead, I accepted the warm jacket over my body. The scent of cinnamon and spice immediately enveloped my form and I tried to hide the way my inhales grew deeper. Trying to keep him as close as I could for however long he would allow. He kept his hands on my arms, rubbing them up and down the sleeves of the jacket to instill some heat in me.

“So whatever happened to taking it slow?” I asked bluntly, keeping my eyes on the interesting speck of dirt that had ended up on my shoe. I didn’t feel bad about getting to the point -- There was no way I could subtly ask him what the deal was, and I’d rather not beat around the bush.

“Well, after the whole situation that happened, sh— we decided to pick up the pace of things,” he spoke lowly, as if he was unsure of the words coming out of his mouth.

“Has she even met Diana? Or know about her?” I instantly regretted asking, the angry look he shot my way had me feeling remorseful. But it also answered my question.

Max only knew the surface level of Spencer. She wasn’t aware of all the good, bad, beautiful, and ugly layers that comes with a man like him. She wasn’t the only one to blame, but I wondered how a profiler couldn’t tell that he was hiding those parts from her because he didn’t want to share them with her. He didn’t want her to know, because the knowing made it real.

“I just want the best for you.”

His irritated expression dissolved into a defeated one as he released the breath he was holding.

“I know, I know. It’s just…”

He stopped talking, appearing scared to share his opinions and feelings with me before he remembered that, unlike Max, he never had to hide things from me. He didn’t want to.

“It’s just…” I prodded, hoping he would continue with what he was going to say.

But he just stayed stuck there, opening and closing his mouth multiple times. I could practically see the cogs in his brain whirling as he properly tried to explain. “Well, the thing is that Ma—”

“Spencer?”

We sharply turned our heads to see Max and Tara staring at us. It wasn’t until that moment that I remembered our position. With Spencer’s hands rubbing tenderness heat onto my arms, his jacket over my shoulders and our bodies pressed together to keep warm.

It would be one thing if everything was settled, but this situation was anything but. Max had every reason to be angry. This wasn’t a new thing to her. So when she turned around, she stomped away fueled by the belief that she’d nearly caught her boyfriend committing adultery. Again.

“Fuck,” I heard the man in front of me whisper as he released me back into the cold night.

Still, as he left, he looked back at me. His eyes burned into mine up until he tore them away, making his final decision and hastily running from the balcony. Away from me. Towards her.

Tara and I shared the silence, but she looked at me with those inquisitive eyes, as if I was a client seeking out therapy from her.

“What?” I hissed, “We were just talking.” I refused to feel guilty over something that I didn’t do. If anyone had done anything, it was Spencer. But at the same time, I didn’t think he was entirely wrong, either.

“I didn’t say anything,” she muttered, holding her hands up high as a sign of surrender.

“You didn’t have to, I can feel the judgment from here.”

“Look, I’m not judging you. But I do want you to put yourself in Max’s shoes. You guys were gone for a while and she finds you two all over each other.”

“What are you talking about, Tara? Christ, it’s not like I was fucking him on the balcony!”

Although I didn’t intend for my words to be humorous, Tara laughed. I was conflicted on whether it was at me or with me, but it ended up amounting to nothing, anyway.

“Look, the night is young and you need to relax. Come back inside, enjoy the party, and don’t let them bring you down. At least for the next few hours.”

She was right, as she usually was. It was why I usually sought her out as the voice of reason; I knew that despite everything, she would always have my best interest at heart.

“Okay,” I agreed before following her back into the chaotic fray.

I heeded her advice and avoided the couple for the remainder of the night. Shockingly, it was pretty easy, but I was sure it was because they were avoiding me too. There were times, lots of times, where Spencer and I made eye contact, but we’d just as quickly look away, as if we were ashamed of what we have done.

All we did was talk. So why did it feel like something more?

There were also times when I made eye contact with Max, but instead of shame, there was anger and contempt. If looks could kill, like Tara had suggested, I was sure my heart would have given out.

It wasn’t until later in the evening that I saw Max take a cab home while Spencer was still inside the house. No one else but me noticed that they didn’t leave the party together.

●●●

I hadn’t seen Spencer since the incident at Rossi’s a few weeks ago. He had to take his mandatory sabbatical leave and I had to take an abrupt trip back home. What used to be almost daily texts between us became nonexistent in a matter of hours. It was a terrible predicament that I was hoping to fix soon.

As I arrived, I spotted him at his desk. For a long time, I stood there staring at him. If he wasn’t nose deep in a bunch of files, I was sure he would’ve seen me, too. I contemplated on how I should go up to him, but nothing I could think of was good enough to say.

Hey, I have your jacket, I took it to the dry cleaner’s, so it is all clean. Rid of me like you wanted to be.

Hi, how were the lectures this time around? Still have a bunch of teens crushing on you?

What’s up, it’s been a while, do you want to get lunch during the break?

I hated that things were awkward, even though I was pretty sure that I was the only one that was making it so. I should have just gone up to him, greeted him, and acted like everything was normal, because everything was normal. Right?

Just when I was about to do so, Emily called us in for a meeting. Impeccable timing.

We had a serial killer case in Louisville, Kentucky. My situation with Spencer was going to the backburner.

During our stay in Louisville, Spencer and I barely interacted. We exchanged notes and passed long messages, but that’s pretty much it. I wasn’t surprised. Our specialties don’t really correlate when we are working on a case. Anytime I did catch some free time, I’d look his way, longing for the opportunity to speak to him. He didn’t look back.

Then, just as the case ended, another chance presented itself. After five days of hardly any proper rest, we finally found the unsub. Everyone was in their respective room catching up on some much needed sleep. Except for Spencer, whose gangly body was tucked away at the bar by himself, a glass of what appeared to be soda in front of him.

Silently, I took the seat next to him, and for a few minutes, everything was quiet. But unlike the usual, comfortable quiet, it was torturous.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

I stared at him, letting the silent communication denote the fact that I knew he was lying to me. Spencer released a sigh and looked at me with eyes more intoxicating than any whiskey that shared their color.

“Actually, no, I’m not okay.”

I was going to ask him what was wrong or if there was anything I could do to help, but before I had the chance to do so, he hastily answered the question I hadn’t asked.

“Max and I broke up.”

I stared at him, my face and mind blank as I tried to comprehend what he’d said. That Max and Spencer broke up. They were no longer together. Spencer was single.

I thought that if this ever happened, I would be happy, elated, jumping at the chance to take her place by his side. But I felt none of those things.

“What happened?” I didn’t want to appear nosy or meddlesome, but I needed to know.

“We were fighting a lot, and I couldn’t take it.”

“Oh.”

“We were… actually fighting about you.”

I sharply turned my head at him, both intrigued and disturbed by the implication that I had anything to do with the failure of their relationship.

“What? What about me?”

“She thought I liked you,” he said while staring straight back at me, daring me to scan through each fleck of gold and green to ensure that he was telling the truth. But his hazel eyes expressed nothing but honesty as he continued, “and she was right. I do.”

“Y-you do?”

All he could do was nod his head, lifting his hand and catching a loose strand of hair before tucking it behind my ear.

“Can I try something?” Spencer shyly requested.

Once again, the universe felt different. I held my breath, trying to wake from the dream. Although he didn’t say it, I had an idea of what he wanted. If the hand on the side of my face and the staring at my lips were anything to go by, I knew what was going to happen next.

I nodded back and closed my eyes. A few seconds passed, the sweetest kind of anticipation. But then I felt the gentle pressure of his lips against my own, sweet and tender. He moved his head to get a better angle while I brought my hands up to cup his face. The roughness of his stubble against the tip of my fingers was a perfect contrast to the softness of him. I could taste the soda he was drinking on his tongue and breathed in the cinnamon scent that seemed sunken into his skin.

When we pulled away, it was full of hesitation. All it took was one look for us to know we couldn’t do this. Not now, not yet. He was still healing from the recent break up and I didn’t want to be a rebound. I didn’t want us to resent one another for jumping into a relationship so soon. We weren’t ready.

We sat there in relative silence, taking in everything that has happened.

“Maybe one day,” he paused “one day we can give it a chance.”

“Yes. I’d like that.” I beamed at him, “And I look forward to that day. Until then, we remain as friends.”

He returned my smile and I realized that it had been a while since I’ve seen his real smile. I missed it so much.

“Friends,” he confirmed.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt relief and comfort. Because I knew everything was going to be okay. I had hope that someday Spencer will get the happily ever after he deserves and he’ll get it with me by his side. One day.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid imagine #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds angst #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid reader insert #reader insert #hurt/comfort #secret fic swap

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elizabeethan · 4 years ago

Text

Overboard: 1/1

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

A Silver Hook AU for @the-darkdragonfly

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

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

Rated M

Read on Ao3

Read my other stuff

~~~~

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

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

“Are you making fun of my age?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Killian.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s quite something.”

“Aye.”

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

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

Finally, he agrees, “aye.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So she talks about that stuff with you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dinner plans?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A date?”

“A date.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Love--”

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

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

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

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

“You’re too old to fight.”

“Aye, that’s right.”

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

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

“Thank you, darling.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hush.”

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

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

~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I am.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do,” she nods. “Very much.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don't know, it felt like hours.”

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

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

“Aye.”

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

“What’s that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Perhaps I'll simply make you beg.”

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

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

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

“Emma,” he laughs breathlessly.

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

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

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

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

“Fuck me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aye.”

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

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

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

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

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

“That we do.”

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

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

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

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

~~~~

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

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

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jamestrmtx · 4 years ago

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Wish Upon a Night Sky - [Beastars | Various x Reader]

[Female, Sheep Reader | Slow Burn]

Act Three | Age-old Conflict

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

"I knew I'd find you here!"

At the sound of that voice -- familiar and friendly -- you look up from your book and form a smile when you recognize the person behind it.

"Are you busy right now?" Jack asks, sitting in the empty chair next to yours. "I'd like you to meet someone, if you're not too busy!"

You bookmark where you're at, glance up to face his eyes, and catch a glimpse of excitement behind them. Him looking so cheerful as he waits for your response makes it almost impossible not to be persuaded into agreeing right off the bat. Still, you give the offer some thought and take your school schedule into account, against letting your responsibilities pile up right from the beginning.

"Sure," you reply, setting the book aside. "I'm just doing some self-study, at the moment." You furrow your gaze and add, "Who am I meeting, by the way?" While having time was one thing, taking into consideration who you would befriend was another. You look around and frown when you see there's no one present nearby, not only from the risk of you being all alone at a school like this one, but at the curiosity over getting to meet another student -- and potential, eventual friend, hopefully.

Jack calls the person over as a response.

The one mentioned doesn't take too long to appear, as he shows up by the door frame in less than it takes for you to organize the pile of books on the table; he even manages a sheepish wave when he catches you staring at him, yet he keeps quiet and still after that, in spite of neither of you knowing each other's names.

It's another wolf, though he's nowhere similar to Juno. The only remotely close aspect you can find between them is his height, but even then, it's not the same. If Jack had to crouch a bit to talk to you, the wolf would no doubt have to do that, too -- if not more than that. Jack introduces him as Legoshi, a name you'd often heard slip from Juno's mouth since the past week spent as her roommate. You reciprocate his wave from earlier and direct a quick smile at him, one he returns with a reserved, almost hesitant nature -- completely different from your expectations, given his species.

At the thought of him being the one Juno often rambled on about, you bite back a grin and introduce yourself in return. The image she'd painted you of the wolf is barely needed when you take notice of just how cautious and awkward he is in greeting you. It's like he's not so sure as to how to approach you, and each movement he makes is just as wary as the next.

When you shake hands with him, you see his gaze wander over to the book and a pile of them left on the table.

His face lights up in recognition, and it doesn't take long before he asks, "Are you the homeschool student from last week?"

You chuckle, let go of his hand, and walk off back to the table to pick up the book, smile growing when you read the title again. "Is it that obvious?" You hold it up in your hands and bite back another laugh. "I'm, well... I'm trying to be less… ignorant -- now that I'm going to be studying at a place like this! Homeschool didn't really teach me stuff beyond math, science, and languages, so I need to make up for that as much as I can." 'Of Wolves and Sheep: A Fundamental Guide to Carnivores, Herbivores, and those in between', reads the book's cover; the sheer irony of your meeting deems you incapable of wiping away your smile. "But, this is probably basic knowledge to everyone here though, huh?"

His eyes glance over the book once more, while his gaze softens as he shakes his head, returning your playful nature. "Not really," he replies, sitting down across from you and Jack when you offer him to. "I'm still learning, too," he adds. "Maybe it looks like everyone here knows about that topic, but... If you know about what happened to one of the students, you'd think differently." A somber expression reaches his face as he huffs and passes a hand against the back of his neck; a more mournful look then glints in his visage -- almost a second after, yet it's shaken off when he continues with, "In the end, it feels more like everyone's just trying their best to understand each other despite everything going on."

You toy with the book in your possession and stay quiet as your mind debates whether or not it would be okay to ask more about the incident. So far, you'd only heard rumours about it, these hard to hold on to with how frail and inconsistent their sources and information were. When you see sadness return to the wolf's gaze, you fight against it. Whatever went on at the drama club with one of its students was clearly still affecting him to this day, so you try not to make him feel worse by adding any unneeded comments to the mix. Whether he knew the person didn't matter; asking anything else would kill the mood entirely.

"I thought you'd wait for me, Legoshi. How rude of you!"

Hearing another voice blend into the calm of the library, you glance back towards the door to see a peafowl standing by it, a smile on his face despite the accusation in his words. He has his arms firmly crossed, faking anger through an equally firm glare. "Were you that desperate to meet the new girl? You disappeared the second we left the drama club!" While part of your questions are fulfilled with the person's entrance, you still don't dare ask Legoshi about the incident. Rather, you keep quiet and greet the peafowl with a wave and a smile -- just like you'd done with the wolf next to you. "You all look so cute together! Should I take a picture?"

You tense up and observe those around you. Embarrassment falls on you when you notice just how popular you seem to be currently, being surrounded by two canines and an avian. Your first few days as a new student appear gone now, and -- to any outsider -- it would come off as if you're the center of attention, with all gazes on you. "It… It's fine!" you reply, words almost stuttered. On instinct, you hide behind your book and try to control the shake of your hands. As kind as the offer is, you're far too jittery to even consider the idea of having your picture taken -- and even less with other people.

Still, you're against being rude, so you add a 'thank you, though' after your words.

"A shy one, aren't you?" he comments, covering a giggle with his hand. "You must be (Y/N), right? Juno wouldn't stop talking about the new girl, and when I heard Legoshi was meeting you today, I just had to join!" He stands by the only empty chair left at your table and extends a hand out to you before sitting down. "My name's Dom. It's nice to meet you!"

Safe to say, his energy is infectious.

You take his hand, palm feeling just as warm as his voice and smile. "Nice to meet you, too."

Then, you let go and move your gaze back to your book. The pile at the center of the table is the next thing to be the source of attention when Dom comments over it, mischief replacing his previous, friendly tone. He reaches out for the pile, drags it over to his side, and picks the odd one out -- one you'd tried to hide by slipping it in the very middle of the rest. "It seems our new girl already has her eyes on someone here, huh? And here I thought Juno was only teasing you about it!"

To be blunt, he's holding a romance book -- its cover risqué. The image features a forbidden love between a carnivore and a herbivore, and while the publishing year dates back to almost a century ago, it retains plenty of relevance today. At a time when tension between the two sides was still fresh and bleeding, books like these existed, though you didn't exactly want to be found out with it currently. "Is it this guy, perhaps?" Dom asks, pointing at Jack, who straightens his posture as fast as the accusation comes. A hint of red shows on his face, but he tries to hide it by looking elsewhere. "You sure act quick, (Y/N)! I'm impressed."

Not wanting for further assumptions to be made, you suspend yourself over the table, focus on your target, and try to reach out for the book. Too easy to be true, you almost fall over when Dom pulls back, hiding it behind him. "It- It's not like that, really!" you exclaim, words coming out about as flustered as your face likely is now. "I'm just curious about the book -- It reminds me of a fairytale I read when I was little!"

At that, Dom stops evading your attempts at grabbing the book back from him. Interest crosses his gaze and a moment of silence takes over the room, one you're not feeling too confident about. "Oh, really?" he asks, cooing. "Hopeless romantic? Or curious about what your parents never told you?"

You sit back down on your seat and look at your lap, face burning. "A... A bit of both, actually."

The peafowl laughs, a sound honest and bright. When you stare back at him, he's holding out the book, waiting for you to take it. "Lend it to me when you're finished, alright?" he says, winking. "I'm a bit curious myself."

You allow yourself a few minutes for your face to cool down some more and huff out a long, deep breath when you're done. Truth be told, it nearly seems as if you've spent all the energy left in you by agreeing to meet new people, yet you don't exactly dislike the experience. Rather, you smile again when you recover and find your cheeks and chest hurt from how happy you are right now.

Nodding, you take the book and place it under your current read.

Your shoulders tense when you feel everyone's eyes on you, though you push through with an "alright".

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

#various x reader #legoshi x reader #legosi x reader #haru x reader #jack x reader #juno x reader #rouis x reader #louis x reader #beastars x reader #female reader #sheep reader #slow burn #romance #mystery #thriller #lgbt #lgbt themes #long fic

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sapphire-knight · 4 years ago

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Welcome to a new episode of Sapphire Rambles, today's topic being:

Just as c!Tommy is a simbol of Care, c!Fundy is a simbol of Love.

Let me explain.

(There are going to be 3 principal points to this rant, and each of them is gonna end with a Tl;dr in purple, so it's easier to follow)

If you're a regular in the Fundy tag (or in the Ranboo tag since this argument gets often brought up in relation to C!Ranboo), you might have already seen some rants talking about how C!Fundy is an incredibly loving person, willing to chase after the people he care about if he sees the tiniest hint that mending their relationship is possible, even if they hurted him in the past.

Yeah you are going to see the same argument again here in the first part, but I promise this gets interesting

This became more clear after the Break, when he decided to try and mend his relationship with Philza and Ranboo even if they weren't at all on good terms at the moment, but he thought it was worth it so he tried and will keep on trying anyways, but we have examples of Fundy's really loving and forgiving nature back to the Revolutionary era

Everyone knows about Eret's betrayal I'm sure, but one thing people seem to skim over is how it effected Fundy, because there's the really high possibility that he was the one who was hurted the most by it.

For everyone who has some spotty memory (me too sometimes fam), Eret was the closest person to Fundy at the time, the two being really close friends, so the betrayal must have had a terrible effect on his emotional health, but you know how it went?

It went that Fundy was the first person to reach out to Eret and start to forgive his actions. Fundy always valued his friendships above the side he was in. So even tho he was a L'manburg abitant, he still thought of Eret as a dear friend to him and did his best to not make them feel alone or isolated

There are really few examples of people Fundy actually has an issue with, but even here Hate is a strong and mostly wrong word to apply, for example:

- Wilbur: as we are shown in the interactions with Ghostbur, Fundy didn't hate Wilbut for how he neglected and patronized him, it made him upset (as we saw when Ghostbur called him "his little champion" and he ran away) but he never hated Wilbur for that. The only thing he didn't forgive him was deciding to die, leaving him. And his issue with Ghostbur is not aknowledging or taking responsability. But he doesn't hate Ghostbur, he can talk to him in a civil manner even if the Ghost pretty much upsets him. And about Wilbur? Fundy loved Wilbur, the thing that hurted him was he taking the decision to definitivly leave him.

- Technoblade: even before Doomsday, the correct word of Fundy's feelings towards Techno has never been Hate, but Fear. A lot of people seemed to miss this point about the Butcher Army as a whole, but they weren't move by hate, even if they tried to make it look like they were. They were terrified. On their way to Techno's house, it was more clear than ever that they were TERRIBLY afraid of Techno. The Butcher army was never a movement of hate, but a bad reaction to a traumatic event that scarred them with fear. Also, after the Break? Fundy understands why Techno wanted L'manburg gone, so he doesn't hate him for that.

- Jschlatt: if you followed Fundy's pov, it won't be a surprise me saying that Fundy doesn't hate Jschlatt, but it may be news to other people, since one of the last interaction between the two was... anything but positive. I still shiver at the caravan scene. But even after all he's done, Fundy can't bring himself to completly hate Jschlatt, even if he did a lot of horrible things and was a horrible person, he still doesn't hate him. Fundy took with him Jschlatt's sword, keeping it as a relic and a memory of the man.

There is no one in the server, probably not even Dream Himself, that Fundy full-on hates. No matter how much they hurted him and everyone else, he just. Doesn't hate them. He's able to see the humanity in everyone, even if he wishes he could just hate people that wronged him. He was always forgiving and loving, these two aspects of him becoming even more prominent after his Break.

Tl;dr: Fundy is a character incredibly full of love and almost always willing to forgive and mend relationships with people he cares about at the moment he sees the possibility.

Now that I got the part most talked about out of the way, I'm taking the second tangent. Let's talk about Self-love.

It's not news the fact that there are really few characters, if not actually none of them, who love themselves. Might it be for trauma or for guilt, none of the characters actually love themself and act out of self-love.

Sometimes there are characters that act for themselves, but that is different from acting out of self-love.

Acting for themselves means doing something to achieve an objective that you want, for example: Eret's betrayal.

Eret betrayed L'Manburg becayse he was promised the role of King of the SMP by Dream, she acted out of her wish for power and control. That's an example of acting for yourself.

Acting out of self-love means doing something with the only cardinal reason being that it's good for you, taking care of yourself doing something that makes you feel better and healthier. That is acting out of self-love.

And, if you look at the server, you can easily see that no one has ever done that, expect for one single time.

The closest wrong thing you might be thinking off right now is when Tommy escaped from exile, but that was not an act driven by self-love. Sure, Tommy saved himself and went towards a healthier mindset, but what drove him towards that direction was not a desire to be better and good for himself, but rage towards Dream and a desire to be back to his family and friends.

You know what the only act that could possibly be out os self-love is?

Fundy going away for a years and a half, taking a break from everyone

Think about it for a second. Why did he do that? Let's start putting away the wrong possibilities:

- Doing it for someone: Fundy at the moment was heavily spiraling towards paranoia, wanting to be a villain to make everyone hate him. If that was his mindset at the time, why would he even want to get a break for anyone?

- Having a second cause: what second cause could there be for a choice like getting away from an unhealthy situation to heal? The only second reason a choice like this could have is healing to help someone else heal when you're feeling better, but refer to the last point

- ... that's virtually it

The only reason that could have caused Fundy to decide to take a break from the whole situation because it was unhealthy and heal was because he wanted to heal. For himself. He genuinly wanted himself to feel better for the only reason being, simply, feeling better.

Fundy is the only character for now to have ever taken an important choice for making himself feel better and letting himself heal.

Tl;dr: Fundy taking the year and a half break was the only decision on the entire SMP taken only out of self-love and genuine desire to feel better for the sole reason of feeling better.

Fundy is a representation of love, in any shape or form. He is unapologetically full of love and care, both for himself and for the people around him.

Anyway, the third part is a theory, if younwill kindly follow me:

The above analysis is the exact reason why the Egg causes Fundy an extreme repulsion.

Since both Fundy and Tubbo said that the Egg seems connected to Dreamons, I'm going to roll with that idea in mind.

As we all know, one of the only known weaknesses of a Dreamon is Love and this Dreamon seems to be acting and controlling people out of wishes and desires.

Fundy should be a perfect candidate for the Egg to manipulate, isn't he? One of Fundy's most known characteristic is his research for love, affection and appreciation from people, and we know the egg has no problem using love to manipulate someone, because he is manipulating Bbh using his (platonic?) love for Skeppy against him.

So why the egg would cause a repulsing reaction to Fundy?

Tommy seems immune because he doesn't wish for anything right now, he has everything that he wants

Tubbo also has a repulsive reaction, but is not a hateful reaction but one driven by fear and sadness, the Egg purposefully trying to scare him away, probably to make him unable to fight against him

But why Fundy's reaction would be full-on hate?

I think the egg was trying to do with Fundy the same thing he's doing with Tubbo, scaring him so badly to drive them to the point where they cannot fight back out of complete fear, but it's not working.

It's not working because the Egg fears Fundy, fears how full of pure, unfiltered and unapologetic love his heart is, fears how he's the living representation of the fact that love, of any kind, is the strongest emotion out there. Fundy already was able to defeat a Dreamon because of his own love, and now that he's more emotionally stable and has decided to follow his heart more, mending relationship with people he loves even if they hurt him?

Fundy is an incredibly dangerous threat to the Egg.

So fear is not enough to keep the fox away, he cannot let him anywhere near his plans.

He fears that if he tried the fear treatment on Fundy, Fundy would be able to break out of the web of terror as soon as someone he loved was caught in the crossfire

So he tried pushing him away in a different way, using hate instead of fear, because since Fundy is such a love-driven person all around, the best way to keep him away is to use hate, just like Tubbo is often driven by hope and optimism, so the best way to keep him far fron where he could be a danger is to use sadness and fear.

Tl;dr: The Egg is making Fundy hate him because that's the only emotion that could actually keep Fundy away from him, because he, being a Dreamon, fears how full of love Fundy is.

#Dream smp analysis #dream smp #character analysis #Fundy #long post #mcyt #dream smp season 3 #the eggpire #The Eret #Tubbo #Guys I'm paranoid so if I nominate a character multiple times I'm probably gonna tag them ok?#I'm sorry if this could be seen as crosstagging- if it is just tell me and I'll stop doing it. I'm just. really paranoid guys.#dreamon hunters #sapphire talks. don't listen to her.#sapphire rants

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cacoetheswriting · 5 years ago

Text

fluff alphabet - spencer reid

A = Attractive (what do they find attractive about the other?)

It would be safe to say you’re strangerly attracted to his genius. Many people find it annoying, how he spits facts completely unwarranted, but not you. His vast knowledge of quite literally anything is what sparked your interest in the young doctor in the first place.

Spencer on the other hand is captivated by your smile. The kindness behind it; how truly genuine it always is. He especially likes when he is the reason that smile spreads across your face, from cheek to cheek, illuminating your perfect features.

B = Baby (do they want a family? why/why not?)

Definitely yes, and you know Spencer would make a great dad. He has a way with kids and it comes to him so naturally. Frankly you can’t wait for the day you get to tell him you’re expecting.

C = Cuddle (how do they cuddle?)

One arm wrapped securely around you, pulling you in as close to him as possible. Your head resting on his shoulder landing just below his chin. He smells your hair taking in the scent of your shampoo before placing a soft kiss on the top of your head.

D = Dates (what are dates with them like?)

He likes to take you out to the movies where you share popcorn and a large soda. A lot of coffee dates where he enlightens you on books he read or reread and you fill him in on the latest pop culture gossip. Nothing too adventurous but never boring.

E = Everything (“you are my ____” (e.g my life, my world…))

“You’re my home.” Spencer whispered, his hands cupping your face. You blinked a couple of times registering what he just said but before you got a chance to respond he continued. “When I’m with you, I feel so comfortable and at peace. I can truly be myself around you, no judgement or scrutiny.” He took a soft breath. “When I’m with you I feel at home and that doesn't make much sense to me but you’ve told me before that not everything has to make sense. Especially when it comes to love.”

F = Feelings (when did they know they were falling in love?)

One evening at a bar with your friends you repeated a fact to the group that Spencer had told you earlier in the week. It caught him off guard because no-one really listens to the rambles that come out of his mouth. Yet here you were, the biggest smile on your face as you reiterated: “chewing gum boosts concentration.”. You glanced at the young doctor from across the table. His eyes lit up as they locked with yours. That’s when he knew.

G = Gentle (are they gentle? If so, how?)

Spencer is one of the gentlest souls you have ever met. He has an incredibly pure and kind heart. He always puts you first and would never dare to do anything that could hurt you. Your happiness is his priority and even though he’s not the most physical person he always does everything in his power to make you see how loved you are.

H = Hand/Hold (how do they like to hold? how do they like to hold hands?)

For many reasons he isn't the biggest fan of public displays of affection. But when he does hold your hand, he traces down your fingers gently with his own before intertwining them. He’d then lift your hand to his lips and place a soft kiss on your knuckle.

I = Impression (first impression/s)

At first Spencer found you quite hard to read. He’s usually not good at social cues or interactions therefore it took him longer than the rest of the team to really get to know you.

You on the other hand were instantly mesmerised by the young doctor. The wealth of knowledge he possessed was captivating and in a way inspiring.

J = Joker (are they into pulling pranks?)

Definitely; Spencer loves a good practical joke. He also has quite a good sense of humour. Not everyone always understands his jokes but they never fail to make you giggle.

K = Kisses (how do they kiss?)

When Spencer kisses you he does so with all his might. Unlike his usual gentle demeanour, when he kisses you it’s always with immense passion. He cups your face with his hands and pulls you in as close as humanly possible.

L = Love (who says I love you first?)

You do - however completely by accident. “Did you know nutmeg can be fatally poisonous?” Spencer asked as the barista handed you a brown paper bag with a pumpkin dessert bar inside. “A little dash of nutmeg in a pumpkin pie or on your eggnog gives it extra flavour Spencer.” You noted flashing him a smile. “Too much nutmeg, however, can be toxic. Two to three teaspoons of raw nutmeg can induce hallucinations, convulsions, pain, nausea, and paranoia that can last for several days.” He stated. You couldn't help but laugh. “I love you Spencer but I’m not going to die because of a sweet indulgence.” It took you a second to register what you just said. Your free hand travelled to your mouth covering it with a soft gasp. “Shit Spencer, I didn-” “You love me?” He interrupted. All you could do was nod in response.

M = Memory (their favourite moment together)

After a particularly hard case Spencer drives you home, like he has done so many times before. He walks you to the door of your apartment and waits until you are safely inside. He places a soft kiss on your forehead and says goodnight - which is when you ask him to come inside, stay the night. Rather than going to sleep however you stay up baking what turned out to be the worst brownies either of you have ever tasted.

N = Nickel (do they spoil? do they buy the person they love everything?)

Spencer is not an overly material person. He prefers to shower you with words of affirmation and subtle compliments. Although when he does give you a gift it is always extremely thoughtful and definitely something that means a lot to the two of you.

O = Orange (what colour reminds them of their other half?)

If he had to associate a colour with you it would be yellow. Yellow - the colour of optimism. The colour of sunshine and enthusiasm. It stimulates the left side of the brain, helping with clear thinking and quick decision making.

P = Pet names (what pet names do they use?)

He shortened your name. It was unintentional when it first happened but you liked the way it sounded so it stuck. You on the other hand, if you’re not using his first name, usually call him ‘honey’ or ‘sugar’ which he used to hate. If you’re feeling giddy you’ll call him by the original nickname you came up before you were dating: ‘suspence’.

Q = Questions (what are the questions they’re always asking?)

“Are you okay?” - you are his priority therefore he likes to make sure nothing is ever wrong. “Do you need anything?” “How are you feeling?”

R = Rainy Day (what do they like to do on a rainy day?)

When the weather outside is far from ideal and the two of you are not out working a case, Spencer likes to curl up on the couch with you. He’ll put on an old back and white movie as you provide the drinks.

S = Sad (how do they cheer themselves/each other up)

If he’s feeling sad you find yourself reaching for a random book on his shelf and reading the first few chapters aloud. His head rests in your lap, eyes closed, as he listens to the sweet sound of your voice.

If you’re feeling down, Spencer will draw you a bath. He’ll light a couple of candles and dot them around the bathroom. He’ll play relaxing music through the speaker of his phone as the two of you enjoy the warm water together.

T = Talking (what do they love to talk about?)

The short answer, everything. You never run out of topics to discuss and the conversation flow is always pleasantly smooth.

U = Unencumbered (what helps them relax?)

Quite simply you. No-one knows Spencer the way you do and even though the two of you haven't been together for very long you know exactly what to say or do to calm him down.

V = Vaunt (what do they like to show off? What are they proud of?)

Spencer is modest which is one of the things you admire about him. The one thing he truly shows off is his knowledge of pretty much everything - even if he does it unintentionally.

W = Wedding (when, how, where do they propose?)

“Almost fifty percent of all marriages in the United States end in divorce or separation.” Spencer said turning off the documentary you just finished watching. “Researchers estimate that forty-one percent of all first marriages end in divorce.” He continued. “Well, lets hope when we get married we’ll be in the lucky fifty-nine percent that lasts.” You teased, a small smile circling your lips.

X = Xylophone (what’s their song?)

Let’s Groove by Earth, Wind & Fire. The song was queued by Penelope at one of Rossi’s famous get togethers - before you and Spencer were dating. She swayed and twirled, soon joined by Morgan, as the rest of the group watched and laughed. You glanced at the young doctor and before he got a chance to protest you dragged him into the middle of the room to dance.

Y = You’re the ___ to my ___ (e.g the cookies to my milk, the macaroni to my cheese)

“You’re the Holmes to my Watson.” He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Why am I not Watson?” “Because you’re not that kind of doctor.” You nudged Spencer playfully. He couldn't help but laugh under his breath. “That is a terrible analogy.” “Terrible or not, it’s true.”

Z = Zebra (if they wanted a pet, what pet would they get?)

He wouldn't want a pet for now. The job is too demanding, he’s away for long periods of time and there'd be no-one to take care of it. Perhaps in the future, when you’re married and have kids. Perhaps.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #fluff alphabet

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glassesandswords · 4 years ago

Text

Of Wings And Wheelchairs

Pairing: Levi Ackerman & Onyankopon, Levi Ackerman/Hange Zoe (mentioned)

Summary: Levi and Onyankopon sit in a coffee shop, waiting for Gabi and Falco to return from their small detour during their vacation together. Levi reminisces about the old Survey Corps veterans and their times together as Onyankopon listens. Soon, the conversation makes its way to a person the two knew very well- Hange.

Ao3 Link

“Let’s wait here.”

Levi and Onyankopon stopped at a coffee shop. With so many people bustling about, it was hard to find a place to relax for a while, especially with all the walking they had done. Well, at least all the walking that Onyankopon, Gabi and Falco had done- as Levi had been pushed around on a wheelchair by Falco the whole time. But the kids had spotted an ice cream vendor and left together to buy something to eat, and the older men decided to get a quick drink before continuing on with their journey.

The coffee shop had outdoor seating shaded by giant blue umbrellas that flared briskly over the round tables. A florist sold bouquets nearby. The scent of roses and lavenders wafted through the air, mingling with that of roast coffee.

“Are you sure letting Gabi and Falco go off on their own in a foreign land a good idea?” Levi asked as Onyankopon looked around for an empty table.

“They are fifteen now. They will be alright. Us, old men, shouldn’t be interfering with a pair of love-birds, so let them enjoy this vacation on their own.”

“You might be right about that.”

Onyankopon decided on an empty table on the opposite end of the florist and parked Levi next to him as he pulled a chair for himself. “Fifteen, huh?” Levi muttered, adjusting his wheelchair close to the table. “If they were in Paradis, they would have graduated from the cadet corps. But these two- they have had their fill of the battlefield way before that, being Marley’s warrior candidates and all.”

“Yes. That’s why they deserve to live like the carefree and free-spirited children they are right now.”

“Not that any child needs a reason to live like that. They all are equally deserving of happiness.”

“Of course,” Onyankopon called the waiter over to them. “A black tea and a black coffee, please.”

Levi noted how Onyankopon kept his favorite drink in mind and ordered it for him by default. Over the past three years, the two men had bonded over their shared losses and he had been a constant companion for Levi after the war. Onyankopon had helped him start a new life and set up his own tea shop after he retired in Marley, taking care of all the paperwork and technical details required.

“I heard you spent your childhood in the underground district within Wall Sina,” Onyankopon said as he watched the waiter leave with their order. “I wasn’t allowed there due to the restrictions on the volunteers, but I heard it was a rough place to live in.”

Levi raised an eyebrow. That piece of information was hardly common knowledge.

“I think I might have an idea of who babbled to you about that,” the face of a certain four-eyed abnormal popped up on Levi’s mind. “Yes. I was raised as a thug in order to survive that hellhole.”

“Did you have anyone close to you at that time? Your parents? Any siblings?”

Usually, Levi would have found it annoying if people dug into his past. But with Onyankopon, he did not really mind. “I was an only child,” he replied, leaning back on his wheelchair, “My mother died when I was young and the closest thing I had to a father was an uncle who abandoned me as soon as he realized that I could take care of myself.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, it’s an old story,” he waved his pity off, “I did have two close friends there. Farlan and Isabel. They were as good as a brother and sister to me.” A fond remembrance flitted over his face, as if he could see them in his mind’s eye as he spoke. “The three of us thought life above the ground, in a land touched by the sun would be better. Turns out it is all the same.”

It wasn’t hard for Onyankopon to make out that Farlan and Isabel were probably no more from how Levi’s voice dipped. He changed the topic to something lighter.

“But you finally retired from all your duties and responsibilities. How does it feel to go on vacations to foreign countries?”

“I’m surprised you are dragging me along. Not like I could be of any service anyway, after being permanently bound to this wheelchair,” Levi tapped on the metal armrest.

“You are too humble, Levi,” Onyankopon shook his head, “I’ve seen you offering guidance to Armin and the others whenever they need it.”

“I help them as much as I can, but in the end, it is nothing more than an old man’s advice.” Levi sighed, remembering a certain someone’s soliloquy in a forest. “Times have changed and perspectives are different. After the rumbling ended, Armin offered me retirement and I took it. But even if I were in top shape, I honestly don’t think I would want to do anything with the Alliance anymore.”

Onyankopon watched Levi as he gazed at the busy road. The man looked broken, like he had lost way too much in life. He reminded him of some of the volunteers who had seen their families killed and hometowns destroyed in front of their own eyes. For previously being known as ‘Humanity’s strongest soldier’, Onyankopon had not seen Levi in action a lot. But the way he held himself together during that day- exactly three years ago, after Odiha- was a testament to his immense internal strength. The man in front of him was a fighter, but the fight had taken its toll on him.

The waiter arrived with steaming drinks and served it on the table.

“How do you drink that bitter bean-juice?” Levi asked as Onyankopon took a careful sip, trying not to burn his tongue in the scalding liquid.

“Six years and you still haven’t warmed up to coffee, have you?”

“I prefer tea, usually that of my own shop.” He sipped his tea, holding it by the rim with his left hand. “But I have to admit, the aroma of coffee is quite enticing.” His voice went back to its hazy tone. ��Mike would have liked it. That guy had a sharp nose for things like these.”

Though Onyankopon did not know the details, he knew Mike was probably one of Levi’s previous comrades.

Levi had a habit of talking about his fallen comrades now and then. He did not seem to care if the other person knew them personally or not. Onyankopon assumed that it was to remember and acknowledge their existence and stories, being the last living veteran from his original group.

He heard about the battle of Shiganshina that resulted in the complete decimation of the earlier Survey Corps and wondered if Mike was one of the people who died there. Or maybe he had been one of the many unfortunate victims who were killed by the hands of the pure titans long before. Onyankopon felt a small stab of guilt for following Zeke, who had caused nothing but pain for Levi and the rest of the Survey Corps, but he had his own circumstances. Choosing sides had blinded them from appealing to their common humanity, until Yelena had revealed to him the plan to offer assistance to Paradis before their first scouting expedition six years ago. He had almost convinced himself that the Paradis military would crush them with their titan power before they could put forth that proposal, but then, a certain Survey Corps Commander gave them the warmest welcome they could have received in the island of ‘devils’.

“Brings back memories,” he hummed over his coffee, “Remember, the first time we chatted was over a cup of tea in that tent?”

“Ah yes,” Levi nodded grimly, “Another one of that person’s stupidly optimistic ideas. It was a surprise that you volunteers actually agreed to it.”

There was a silence as Onyankopon knew exactly who he was referring to.

Levi sipped his tea. “Honestly, they’d come up with the most reckless ideas, that Four-eyes.”

Onyankopon gave a small, sad smile. It seemed safe to talk about them. “I have to admit,” he said slowly, “I was shocked when they pointed the barrel of that gun over their one good eye, even if it was unloaded.”

“You don’t know half the trouble Hange caused back in the Survey Corps,” Levi shook his head disapprovingly. “Always blabbing about their latest hypotheses. Putting my entire squad in danger for another titan capture mission. They’d have had their head bitten off by a titan long ago if it wasn’t for their trusty assistant, Moblit. Hell, they went days without taking a damned bath just because something more interesting caught their attention. Sometimes, when I couldn’t bear the stink, I had to knock them out and clean them myself.”

Onyankopon chuckled at his ramble. He had observed Levi and Hange’s inseparable relationship from his time at Paradis. Maybe it was because they were the last ones to survive from their generation, or maybe it extended a little deeper than that. Onyankopon was not completely sure. He gazed at the long scar across Levi’s face, crossing through his one blind eye. If Hange were there, the two of them would have made quite the one-eyed pair.

But Hange wasn’t there as they had sacrificed themself so that he and Levi could sit in peace under a blue umbrella, drinking hot beverages on a sunny day without worrying about anything else.

Levi was still rambling on, “...all those stupid naming ceremonies for the captured titans. At least three Garrison guards used to throw up after each of their experiments. The tantrums they’d throw in Erwin’s office whenever he denied their requests. That Four-eyes once talked to me about titans and their planned experiments for two days straight after we first found out about Eren’s abilities. Can you believe it? Two days!”

There was a bitter aftertaste in Levi’s mouth and he knew it had nothing to do with the tea. A memory of Hange floated in his mind, of them carefully dabbing medicated cotton over Eren’s face after he had kicked the hell out of him in the courtroom all those years ago. He remembered Hange chiding him for having gone too far and declaring that they’d never kill Eren.

His stomach twisted at the irony of how everything played out in the end.

Onyankopon’s voice stirred him out of his thoughts. “It must have been hard for them to pursue their scientific research after they became the commander.”

“It did take a huge toll on them,” Levi agreed, “Erwin’s shoes would have been hard for anyone to fill. But he himself chose them as his successor and they did their job well, even if all odds were against them.” He gave a short sigh through his nose. “But over the years, they changed too much.”

Levi had noticed all the times when Hange had faked a smile to cover up their exhaustion. They tried to maintain their cheerful façade through all the uncertainty to keep their subordinates from becoming concerned about their mental well-being, but from his time with the past two commanders, Levi knew the bone-crushing pressure they were under.

He had spotted the missing tea from his shelf during all those late nights when Hange had fallen asleep on their desk after pulling multiple all-nighters. Although they weren’t new to burning the midnight oil, the commander’s work was grueling. Adding to that, the knowledge and responsibility of dealing with an entire world full of potential enemies weighed them down incredibly. Only he knew how tired and defeated Erwin had looked during his last moments with him. In a way, the role demanded much more from Hange than it did from Erwin himself.

“You mean they were more excitable before?” Onyankopon asked, “I really did not think they could look more starry-eyed than while they were being introduced to all the new technology from Marley.” He chuckled, “The way they whooped after the success of the new improved 3DMG test session was unforgettable.”

Levi set down his empty cup. “Hange was always a vocal advocate for technological advancement. Their inventions helped to get rid of all the pure titans in the island without much loss of human life. When they were given the hope that the rest of the world was not as cruel as we thought it was- but a place where they could learn and discover- that was when I saw them truly happy for the last time. They hoped to make peace when we left off for our first Marley visit. But we both know how that ended.”

Ah, yes that Marley trip, Onyankopon thought as a tense silence settled between them, The time when everything spiraled out of control. To ease the heavy pauses, he decided to bring up some good memories from back then.

“Remember the time when Hange bought that lollipop from that clown just so that he’d stop stalking you? And the time when they tried to feed carrots to a car?”

Thankfully, it seemed to work as Levi snorted. “Shitty-Glasses was supposed to be the smartest of us all,” he said, “Yet, that was still better than the way they squealed after the camera flash the first time we took a picture in Azumabito's place. Now that was just plain embarrassing.”

Onyankopon smiled. When Levi's squad was out drinking, he had insisted Levi and Hange to take a photograph with himself and the Azumabitos as a keepsake memory of their first official trip outside Paradis. Hopes were ripe that night, with the peace conference scheduled for the next day. To keep their optimism up, they had a small dance session in which Hange had dragged Levi with them and had successfully managed two rounds around the ballroom before Levi remarked that it was ridiculous and sulked in a corner for the rest of the night with a wine glass on hand. After which Hange teased him and invited Onyankopon to give them company instead.

When the camera was ready, they were all suited up- with hats placed on their heads despite the fact that it was evening- just for the sake of the photograph session. Onyankopon knew that the Paradisians had never taken a picture before, so his eyes were on Levi and Hange instead of the camera.

Their reactions did not disappoint.

Hange squealed as the flash lit up the room and Levi flinched, grimacing at its sudden brightness. The photograph was quite comical when it was developed: Hange with their mouth slightly open, Levi with his eyes half closed and Onyankopon’s lips in an amused half-smile as he gazed at them.

“To be honest, you looked quite shaken at the flash yourself,” he pointed out to Levi.

“Yes, but I did not wake up everyone in a fifty mile radius within the building.”

“It didn’t seem to wake the kids up, though.”

“What do you expect? Not even Hange can wake up a bunch of hungover brats who had drank all night and ended up passed out on each other.”

“The three of us had to carry them back, didn’t we?”

“Only for Sasha to puke all over the new suit I wore for the photoshoot.”

Onyankopon laughed at that memory. The waiter came over with the bill and he paid it before Levi could reach for his own wallet.

“I told you before,” he said to Levi as he handed over the money, “This vacation is entirely on me.”

“Thanks,” Levi kept his wallet back inside his pocket, knowing that arguing about it would not change Onyankopon’s mind.

They sat in silence for a while, gazing at the people walking around, exploring the shops. Levi got a few quick stares now and then because of his heavily scarred face, but he did not care. He was used to people staring at him; the annoying looks of envy and awe when he was considered as humanity’s strongest soldier, glares of anger from the military higher-ups after he had brought back Armin instead of Erwin during the battle of Shiganshina, and gazes of pity after he had been severely injured due to the thunder spear, thanks to that shitty monkey.

“I wonder what happened to that photograph,” he murmured, his mind wandering back to that day in Marley.

“It was left in Paradis,” Onyankopon replied, “The militants probably disposed of it along with the rest of our belongings after we were declared traitors. It’s been three years after all.”

Levi’s heart sank. That was the last piece of Hange he had left, apart from the scars they had stitched across his face. If everything was disposed of, that would mean that the badges he had collected from the uniforms of his former comrades, his letters, Hange’s research notes, Moblit’s sketches from the night they visited a bar after work, all of their personal belongings- everything had been burnt or destroyed. Apart from Erwin’s grave, there was nothing left for him back in Paradis- the place the Survey Corps dedicated their lives and hearts for all those years.

He masked his bitterness, “It was just a piece of paper anyway.”

Onyankopon did not say anything. The cost of freedom had been incredibly heavy for both of them.

“It’s been three years, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Levi remembered that moment when the spirits of his comrades appeared in front of him as he sat battered and broken. The old Survey Corps, with whom he had spent so many years fighting, resting, experimenting and pushing through every loss, every death and every failure together. He had finally finished their job. He had taken all of their dedicated hearts with him and won for them.

His final salute both crushed his soul and set him free.

A part of him wanted to depart with them. His duty was done, Zeke was killed, the rumbling was stopped and the world was finally free of titans. What use would he be to anyone anymore?

But he knew that the others would want him to live the life that they couldn’t. To explore the world and all it had to offer. To make the dream of world-peace come true.

So, he decided that he would go on, and when his time finally comes, he would stand tall among his noble comrades and tell them stories of the world they never got to see.

Levi hesitated for a moment before turning to Onyankopon.

“Do you think they’re still watching over us?”

Onyankopon didn’t miss a beat.

“I’m sure they are.”

Gabi and Falco reappeared from the crowd, with half-eaten ice cream cones in their hands. The brats had grown so much since the first time he had seen them, all beaten up and bruised on that zeppelin three years ago. Now they looked happy and content, their eyes shining with hope, optimism and love.

Hange’s words from all those years ago played in his mind.

I want everyone to feel safe again soon. I want this to be a world where people can live without fighting each other.

There was still a long way to go for that, but with the threat of the titans gone, they only had humans to negotiate with. Though that probably did not make it any easier, peace was still an option. He’d leave that to Armin and Historia.

Erwin and Hange would have loved it here. All the new places and technology, exotic food, new discoveries; it would have blown their minds. Sometimes, he wondered what would have happened if that bastard Floch did not show up to shoot holes in that fuel tank. Hange would have been alive, they would have boarded the plane together, they could have seen the flying titan and the previous titan shifters. It might have probably returned them to their normal, curious self again.

They could have survived together.

What would Hange have done now that the titans, their life’s work, were gone forever? The two of them had never really discussed such situations, for they never imagined such a day would actually come to be. For them, a world without the threat of titans was a distant fantasy. But if Hange were alive, they’d have probably headed the peace talks. They were never the one to stay out of the action anyway.

“Sorry, we were a little late,” Falco said as he approached them, “Shall we go?”

“Sure, no problem.”

Falco popped the rest of the ice cream in his mouth before silently pulling the wheelchair by its handle without being prompted to. He was a sweet kid. Erwin, Hange and the rest of his old squad- Petra, Oulo, Eld, Gunther- would have liked him.

Levi picked up a newspaper from a vendor, to see if there were any mentions of the peace committee who had set sail for Paradis earlier that day. As they made their way through the street, he winced as the wheel stumbled over a small pothole.

“I’m so sorry,” Falco exclaimed.

“No, that’s fine,” he rubbed his back. “Times like these are when I really miss Four-eyes.”

Onyankopon laughed, “They’d have come up with a crazy convenient wheelchair, custom-made for you.”

“Knowing them, they would have probably attached an engine and the 3DMG trigger-anchor system complete with a safety belt into the wheelchair,” he shook his head. “Then again, I think they might have also pushed me down a slope as a test run, so maybe I’m safer this way.”

A distant hum of an engine made all of them look above.

A plane, similar to the one they had taken off from in Odiha, flew past the sky, its shadow falling on them as it streaked by.

For the kids, it was just another ordinary plane they stared fascinated at. But for him, something about it felt reassuring.

It was almost as if…

Levi glanced at Onyankopon, who gave him a knowing look.

So, they were watching us after all.

#levihan #levi ackerman #hange zoë #onyankopon #snk 139 #snk 132 #onyankopon and levi drink coffee and tea together in a vacation #featuring plane-san #retired levi #the sc vets were the best characters tbh #i miss them #fluff #snk fanfiction

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doublekrecs · 5 years ago

Text

More Than Physics

Spencer Reid x reader

Synopsis: you notice your ta in the library and ask him for a lesson in physics to which you pay him back with pizza and a lesson in sex

Warnings: smut (no p in v action), oral (male receiving), mutual masturbation

a/n: sorry this took so long, it’s been quite a week. but i'm thinking of making this a series depending on if you like it. anyways, i hope enjoy my angels! -🧞‍♀️

also thank you guys for 400 followers!! the love means everything to us:)

part 2

They always say life just blows right past you. Which you used to think was a load of bullshit, but now on your last year of college you’re sitting in the library on the verge of tears over your physics class, reminiscing on a time long ago when freshman year you was most likely at some frat party grinding up on some beefy blond named Steve.

You let out a loud sigh, looking around to make sure you weren’t disrupting anyone. You weren’t. The library was almost completely empty, besides just you there was a small group of people actively note taking with highlighters scattered around the table and the biggest cups of what you assumed to be coffee. Looking over to your left you saw an oddly familiar mop of curly brown hair nose deep in a thick book. Wait it was Spencer.

He was the TA for your physics class, always enthusiastic and ready to help anyone. You honestly thought he was just happy anyone was willing to listen to his rambles. From what you’ve seen he was humble for being such a genius and seemed like a really sweet guy. Always flashing you a kind smile and opening doors for anyone around him.

Which is why you felt a sense of relief wash over you when you saw him. You had been struggling with this unit in class and no method of studying had been helping you retain knowledge. So what better way to get help than from the resident genius himself.

You packed your stuff and made your way over to the table he set camp at. Loads of novels you couldn’t imagine yourself reading sat in stacks next to him. You tapped him on the shoulder to which he flinched after being taken out of the fantasy world he was immersed in. Looking up he offered you the same kind smile as always before whispering, “Oh hi y/n.”

“Hey Spencer” you smiled back.

He moved a stack of books off of the chair next to his offering you a place to sit. You set your stuff down and his eyes went to the physics book in front of you.

“How's the studying going?” he asked, putting his full attention on you. One thing about him you always admired was the way he really listened to people. No matter who it was he always made people feel heard.

“Not so good” he frowned at the sad tone in your voice, “But I was hoping that a certain TA would be able to spare a fellow peer some help” you looked at him with pleading eyes.

“Of course, what do you need?”

You guys had spent the better part of two hours with him helping you set up notes and explaining certain topics to the best of his ability. You noticed him yawn and check his watch. “What time is it,” you asked, trying to suppress a yawn of your own.

“Just hit 11, the library closes in 30 minutes if you wanna stay and finish up,” he said, stretching his back out from sitting for so long.

“No, I think we’ve done enough work for today.” You both started to pack your stuff up, making small talk as you walked out of the building.

“Hey Spence,” he stopped walking and turned to look at you, “I really wanna thank you for all your help today. Is there any way I can repay you for this? OH! I can take you to dinner, we can go to the little pizza place around the corner. It's on me,” you offered nodding with a wide smile.

He smiled back at your enthusiasm, “You really don’t have to thank me, I'm glad I was able to help. But I won’t say no to a slice of pizza.”

You led him to the little spot off campus, which he of course opened the door for you. The waiter took you to a little booth where you both ordered a soda before skimming the menu. The place was cute, very homey with warm lights and oldies playing softly in the back. There was a comfortable silence before the waiter came back and took your orders.

Spencer was very easy to talk to as he had knowledge on all topics. However you wanted to know more about him personally. So you suggested a game. Never have I ever. Yes it was childish but hey, all good friendships have to start somewhere.

“Ok I’ll start with an example and you put a finger down if you’ve done it.” he nodded taking a bite of his pizza. You took a second to think of where to begin, “Alright never have I ever gone skinny dipping,” you stated and his eyes widened a little bit.

He shook his head no as you encouraged him to ask a question. “Um never have I ever failed a class.”

“Spence no,” he frowned. “This is supposed to be fun, ask risky questions c’mon don’t be shy,” you looked at him encouragingly, “what happens at the booth stays in the booth,” you said tapping on the table for emphasis.

He took your words to heart as he waited a while trying to come up with a question. “Alright, never have I ever had more than 4 partners.” you put a finger down and looked at him confused. “How many people have you dated?” he took a sip of his coke before replying, “just one.”

“Huh,” “What?”

“C’mon Spence you’re telling me a genius like you doesn’t have girls lined up around the corner” you said raising a suggestive eyebrow. He giggled and shook his head no looking down.

The game continued but keeping track of fingers was forgotten. Pizza was long gone and the bill was paid, now it was just you guys enjoying each others company. It was obvious Spencer was breaking out of his comfort zone as the questions kept on getting riskier. Which is how you got into the topic of sex. You had found out that apparently he had almost no experience in any of it.

“Y/n I just don’t see what the big deal is. I mean I do ya know.. get off, so what's the point,” he said playing with his napkin. You could tell he was a little embarrassed at the admission by the tinge of pink on his cheeks.

“The point is that sex is normal and fun and something you should be experiencing.”

“I don’t know. I just don’t wanna have one night with a stranger then be laughed at for being inexperienced.”

Suddenly a lightbulb appeared above your head.

“Spencer I have an idea. And please just hear me out,” he looked at you wearily before you continued, “let me tutor you in sex stuff.”

You swear he was gonna explode at how red he was, mouth gaping like a fish out of water trying to find words to respond.

“Listen, you spent the night helping me with something I struggle in. Let me help you with something you’re struggling in. And it could be fun, ya know just some stress relief and you get to learn some new skills.”

Spencer was taken back by your offer. He really wanted to accept, I mean come on it's not everyday a pretty girl just offers you to have sex with her. Let alone buy you pizza beforehand.

You might have looked collected on the outside, sipping on your dr.pepper, giving Spencer time to answer but on the inside you were a mess. What if you had pushed him too far. Why did you think it was a good idea to just offer up something like that. Your thoughts were cut off by a voice in front of you speaking up.

“Yeah.. Let's do it.” Now you were the one gaping like s fish. But you quickly recomposed yourself.

You looked at him with a devilish smile, reaching over the table to grab his hand. “Well then Spence, let’s go shall we?” He laced your fingers together as you got up, matching your smile.

In no time you were in your dorm after the brisk walk. Little conversation was made and you were starting to think maybe he was starting to regret agreeing. Unlocking the door you looked over at him nervously biting his pink lip, something you’d like to do. “You can just come in and we can watch a movie if you want. I don’t wanna pressure you into anything.”

He looked over at you, big brown eyes gazing softly into yours, “I really wanna do this. Please.”

“Alright pretty boy make yourself comfortable we’ll start off easy.”

You guided him to sit on your couch as you sat next to him. There was a moment of silence where you both just looked from each other's eyes to lips longingly. Neither were sure who leaned in first but your lips met in the middle, calm at first before the storm. His hands went to grasp the sides of your face, pulling you further into him. You took the time to adjust and settle on his lap, one hand on his shoulder while the other nested in his hair, causing him to let a groan in your mouth when you tugged it slightly. You’d save that for another time.

The time came for you both to pull away for air. His forehead resting on yours as you caught your breath.

“As great as that was,” you said punctuating with a kiss. He tried to chase your lips as you pulled away to continue talking. “You can move your hands, I won’t break. Nowhere is out of bounds,” you said nodding encouragingly.

His hands were warm, moving down slowly to your hips. You leaned back in, this time the kisses were slower but held the same desire. Again his hands stayed in the same place so you put yours over his and guided them up and down. He gained some confidence after you let go, his hands now straying to your ass giving it a squeeze. You could feel the smile on his lips at the gasp you let out.

Making out soon led to desperate whimpers and a steady grind of trying to gain more friction. The feel of him hardening beneath you made you moan as the thin fabric of the leggings you were wearing did little to nothing to conceal it. You pulled away to start pressing wet kisses to his neck. You knew you had found his sweet spot under his ear when he shuddered. Your hand went down to palm him over his pants. Spencer jolted at the touch.

“Fuck y/n,” he let out as a soft sigh. You took the opportunity to unzip his pants. Looking into his auburn eyes for confirmation to keep going he gave a silent nod, prompting you to take him out of his pants. It was pretty and pink, already weeping with precum you couldn’t wait to get your mouth on. Wasting no time you used your thumb to swipe some off to use as lubricant to start pumping his shaft.

You went down to a spot between his knees, taking his hand in yours to set in your hair. He seemed to catch on quick as he pushed some out of your face to see your pretty eyes looking up at him while you sucked him off. Under his soft exterior, shockingly Spencer swore like a sailor. Letting out constant “shit you’re so good” or a long “fuck” under his breath.

You could tell he was getting close by the way you felt his cock throbbing. You stopped sucking, instead using your hand to keep stimulating him as you said, “It’s alright Spence you’re doing so good for me. Where do you wanna cum?” His eyes shifting down to your low cut v-neck said it all. You motioned for him to replace your hand with his own, quickly discarding the shirt leaving you in a pretty lacy bra. He was confused as to what you were doing when you started to pull off your leggings, but as your hand slipped down into your matching panties things started clicking.

You were already worked up from the heavy touching and listening to his groans that it was easy for you to slip a finger into your wet heat, letting out a moan at the feeling. His eyes kept on roaming all over your body. The sight of your chest heaving and the glistening between your thighs was enough to set him off.

You added another finger and matched the pace he was pumping himself at. Not taking your eyes off his hands, so big and veiny.

“Ah Spencer, I'm so close baby. Please cum with me,” you let out along with little whimpers. Hearing his name on your lips was his end as his orgasm washed over him. Ropes of his cum spilling over his palm. Your release came soon after, rubbing your clit, gasping at the tightness in your tummy bursting.

You both calmed down and met each other's gaze with a soft smile. Picking up your t-shirt you told him to stay put as you went to grab a towel for him to clean up. “So, not bad for our first ‘lesson’, you said walking back and sitting next to him.

His cheeks were tinted pink from seeing how exposed you were in front of him but he had the courage to respond, “Not bad at all. I can’t wait for what else you can show me.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #mgg x reader #mgg smut #mgg fanfiction #🧞‍♀️writes

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 4 years ago

Text

Hot Mess

Prompt: Hi, so I really flippin love your writing style and I was wondering if you could write a fic of the sides just flirting(mainly Janus because we all know he's the best flirter) with each other, like in (Un)wanted chapter 1 where Janus was flustering Virgil really badly, that sort of thing. Could be DLAMP or DLAMPR I don't mind. You don't have too I was just wondering... Thanks either way!

First off, thank you so much for the prompt! Second...

Listen. Everything is awful and I don’t understand how flirting works. Ever. Actually, you know what, no. No one understands what flirting is. There have been so many fucking tests run and no one can ever tell who is flirting ever. It’s bullshit. Everything is bullshit and I’ve never understood a damn thing in my entire life and I’m sure as hell not about to start now. So.

That being said, here.

Read on Ao3

Pairings: yes. LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR.

Warnings: sympathetic janus & remus

Word Count: 5884

If you ask anyone whose fault is it that everyone, for some reason, starting flirting with each other, they’ll blame Janus. Even Janus. He knows what he did. It’s his fault.

Anyway, there are a few things that are a given. Everyone flirts with everyone, with the one exception of Roman and Remus. They’re brothers. It doesn’t work. Anything else is fair game. Are they being serious? Who knows. Probably. Maybe. Keeping anything straight around the Mindscape is complicated enough, for obvious reasons.

Doesn’t mean there can’t be some level of trying to keep track of what’s bound to happen at some point.

Patton’s flirting is both the least obvious and the most obvious. It’s super cheesy pick up lines delivered completely genuinely and the sweetest pet-names ever. But the problem is that’s not too different from how he normally is. For some reason, the Dad Coaxing Tone™ is the worst and he knows it. He doesn’t flirt nearly as often as some of the others do and he’s surprisingly sweet about it. It normally just makes them kind of giggly and slightly redder than normal. Always comes with hugs, which is never something to complain about. Cheeky comments and cheeky smiles that leave them second-guessing everything that just happened. And, of course, by the time they’re just about finished wrapping their heads around what just happened, he’s back with another line and here they go again.

Roman.

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

They should have expected this because his job is romance but fucking hell.

His way of showing love is through poking fun at things so…all the teasing. All of it. Not just verbal teasing, even though that in itself is enough to make everyone melt into puddles, but he gets close. Like, sneak-up-and-hug-you-from-behind kind of close. Or he’ll just stand really close with a smirk as he teases them, waiting for them to give in and run into his arms. Or he’ll crowd them against the wall. Or the counter. Someone probably dared him to do this—or not, because, again, it’s Roman—but he definitely pinned Logan to the wall and didn’t let up until his grip on Logan’s wrists were the only thing keeping him standing. Also, super gushy pet-names. Like, super gushy. Like Patton, very fond of telling them how cute they are, including asking them why they’re hiding such a cute face, come on, he wants to see how adorable they are. With Janus and Logan, he makes his voice lower, taking advantage of how close that lets him get. Dramatic monologues or sneaking up and dipping them are a must. He goes full Disney Prince and doesn’t let up until they can’t even ramble anymore, smiling down at their bright red cheeks. With the others, he makes his voice very sweet, soft, and gentle. He gets right in their faces so they can’t go anywhere and riles them up until they’re a melted squirmy mess. It’s not uncommon to find someone—normally Patton or Virgil— an absolute puddle with Roman beaming, just twisting them round and round his finger. Merciless and shameless flirt. Roman is the actual worst and they all love him.

Virgil is affectionately known as The Meme Flirter. No prizes for guessing who came up with that. He picks one nickname for each of them and just peppers it into conversation with a wink and a smirk. The master of timing. He doesn’t need to spend ages winding them up, he just picks the right moment and they’re covering their faces and squirming. Also uses the technique of being close but not close enough to touch. Sometimes he’ll team up with Roman or Logan and just be there all ‘you know he’s right’ when they look to him for help, or engage in conversation with whoever else is flirting about how red they’re getting, or how much they’re squirming. Or he’ll engage in flirt competitions. He’s way more confident about it than they ever anticipate and it always catches them off guard. He keeps an eye on them though, because he knows the others (especially Roman) can get carried away. “You don’t wanna break ‘em, do you?”

(They do sometimes but shh.)

For Logan, infodumping is the actual best way of expressing affection and you will not convince him otherwise. He’ll research topics so they can talk about them together if they want but if you think that is it then boy howdy you are wrong. This guy keeps notebooks on the best way to fluster each and every one of the Sides, okay. He knows his shit. He infodumps about them too, phrasing compliments as provable facts. Will pretend to be confused about why they’re getting so flustered, he’s just telling them the truth, why are you so red? It would be convincing if he weren’t purposefully making his voice as low as it can go and smirking. Also a teasy bastard. He will just ask them to do things he knows they can’t help doing when they get flustered, especially with Patton or Janus. He’s asked Janus to squee for him more often than he would like. (Liar.) Or they’ll be protesting and telling them to knock it off and he’ll just point out that ‘no one is holding you. Nor are we blocking any exits. By all means, if you wish to leave, then you may.’ Knowing perfectly well they’re puddles and puddles can’t move. But then ‘oh, you must not want to leave.’ ‘Accidental’ touches make it worse, as well as nonchalantly adding in pet-names. He’s the one who figured out that pet-names make them melt, by the way. Also figured out that firmer touches help ground them, so he offers them a deal sometimes. If they like, they can come and cuddle with him while he flirts. It gives them an excuse to cuddle and a place to hide, but that does mean he’s murmuring right into their ears. It’s a double-edged sword. When he teams up with Roman they are the worst, especially when they agree that it’s necessary to reestablish emotional stability. Or they’re bored, snickering when poor Virgil bolts out of the room from too much blush. Virgil will run away if it gets to be too much, he’s got that built into his whole deal as anxiety, but Janus…forget about it. That team-up definitely has overwhelmed the poor thing multiple times. You can’t freeze with these predators, they’ll eat you alive. They definitely teased and flirted with him until he burst into tears one time, it was…an experience.

“Enough!”

Roman pauses, midway through some dramatic gesture, faltering at the crack in Janus’s voice. Logan glances at him before looking back at Janus, his hands still pressed hard to his face, his shoulders tense. He takes a small step forward and tilts his head.

“Janus?”

He calls his name softly until he lowers his hands, unable to stop the comforting noise when he sees the tears on his cheeks. Beside him, Roman inhales sharply, only to make a noise of protest when he immediately covers his face again.

“Janus,” he says, dropping the flirty persona immediately, “may I touch you?”

Please say yes, please.

He nods. Logan reaches out, gently covering his hands to coax them away, clutching them tightly.

“Too much?” Janus nods. “My apologies, it was not my intention to overwhelm you.”

“Nor mine, little snake,” Roman says quietly.

“I know.”

“Would you like us to stay,” Logan asks gently, giving his hands a squeeze, “or leave you alone?”

Janus shuffles, his mouth drawing tight and his hands tensing. Logan is content to wait patiently for him to make up his mind, but Roman seems to have other ideas.

“Oh dear,” he murmurs, stepping a little closer, “we really overdid it this time, didn’t we, darling?”

“I said enough,” Janus mumbles.

“I know, I know, I’m done,” he assures, reaching out to tenderly wipe his cheek, “I promise. Oh, oh you poor thing…”

“Roman,” Logan chides gently, “I don’t think…”

He trails off when Janus frees one of his hands, tentatively reaching out for Roman. Roman swoops in, gathering him into a hug so tight his fingers whiten from his grip on him. As Logan watches, Roman tilts his head slightly, beginning to pepper kisses along the side of his face.

“I don’t understand,” he says quietly, “how…how is this not more overwhelming?”

“I think you’re going to have to wait to ask him that, Specs,” Roman murmurs, “because I don’t know that either.”

“Then how did you know it would work?”

Roman looks up at him, sadness coloring his gaze. “Because a different face told me it would.”

Ah.

“I’m right here,” Roman says softly, rocking Janus in his arms, “I’m right here, little snake. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

Janus all but slumps into Roman’s embrace, his head tucking neatly against his shoulder as he presses more kisses to his face.

“I have you, alright? I’m not going to hurt you, you know I’m not.” Roman adjusts his grip. “It’s just like we always do, hmm? I rile you up and then you come here and I cuddle you right back down.”

He pulls back to gently catch another tear with his thumb. “Just pushed a bit too far this time, hmm?”

I rile you up and cuddle you back down.

Like we always do.

I’m not going to hurt you, you know I’m not.

“I understand,” Logan breathes, “I understand now.”

“Understand what?”

“What’s happening.” Logan steps forward, gently resting his hands on the part of Janus’s back not covered by Roman’s arms. “And how I can help.”

“By all means then,” Roman says, “tell us.”

“Janus is…not accustomed to receiving compliments,” Logan begins, lightly hushing Janus’s noise of protest.

“It’s true, little snake,” Roman says.

“Yes, and we will work on that,” Logan promises, “but that does make it easy to blindside or disarm him with comments of that nature. Hence…”

He motions between the three of them.

“You’re not used to experiencing affection like this,” he continues softly, “and especially not through flirting or playful teasing, which is why it doesn’t take much effort on our parts to fluster you.”

Janus makes another noise of protest and he shushes him gently.

“I’m not trying to tease, Janus, I promise,” he murmurs, “but it doesn’t, does it? It makes you uncomfortable because you don’t understand it, not really, so you don’t know what to expect next. We have not exactly been…forthcoming with affection in the past, have we?”

Janus nods hesitantly.

“This, however,” Logan continues, leaning a little more of his weight onto his hands, “is a form of affection you understand very well.”

He steps a little closer, rubbing firm circles into Janus’s back.

“You are a very heat-sensitive person,” he says, “and you understand how to give and receive affection in this language, so to speak. When one of us touches you while we are teasing or flirting with you, it heightens the loss of control you feel because it’s something that should be familiar, but it’s being used in an unfamiliar way.”

“But when it’s like this,” Logan continues, leaning closer, “it’s calming. Grounding. Especially after you’ve just been in a state of higher stress. You know what we mean by it.”

“When I put my hand on your shoulder or your back,” he murmurs, shifting his weight further onto his hands, “you know it means I’m here, right here, and I’m not going anywhere. When Roman kisses you—“ Logan smiles when Roman uses that as an excuse to press another kiss to Janus’s forehead— “you know it means he cares about you, that he won’t let anything hurt you.”

“Look at our resident genius over here,” Roman says, leaning over to peck Logan’s cheek too, smirking when it brings a flush to his face, “aww, Logan, feeling left out?”

“No,” Logan replies stiffly, ignoring the growing smirk on Roman’s face, “and even if I were, we have more pressing matters to deal with.”

“No, no,” Janus mumbles, “I’m good now, I can leave, it can be Logan’s turn.”

Roman raises his eyebrows. ‘Are you gonna let that go?’

Logan will most certainly not.

“I can assure you,” he rumbles into Janus’s ear, “I am perfectly satisfied with our roles as they currently stand.”

Roman chuckles when Janus squirms in his grip.

“After all,” Logan continues, “we have just established that this can be quite the cathartic experience for you, it wouldn’t do at all to interrupt it before it is complete.”

“Did you just…create a scientific excuse to do this in the name of maintaining emotional stability?”

Logan smirks. “Perhaps.”

“You know better than to try and argue with Logan about science,” Roman adds.

Janus swats at them half-heartedly but doesn’t protest when Roman lets him go a few moments later, pressing one last kiss to his forehead and leaving. Logan taps him gently on the shoulder.

“Am I correct, Janus?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, a little red still on his cheeks, “you’re right.”

“Good.” Logan reaches out and slides the tissue box closer. “And…thank you.”

He looks up, confused. “For what?”

Logan smiles. “For telling us it was too much, and for letting us help.”

That’s the first time Logan’s able to determine exactly how best to help one of them calm down, especially after one of them is incredibly flustered. The first time he implements it is under…slightly different circumstances.

He’s not quite sure how Virgil and Roman talked him into playing Truth Or Dare, but here he is, on the couch, Roman sprawled across the floor, Virgil perched on the back. So far he’s had to cover his ears from Roman belting the third Disney medley in an hour and he has several questions for Remus about where his good clipboard is. Then it’s Virgil’s turn again and he picks dare.

“Are you sure, My Chemically Imbalanced Romance?” Roman asks.

“Just hit me with it, Princey.”

Roman taps his fingers against his chin, glancing around. His eyes land on a spot over Logan’s shoulder and he grins. Logan follows his gaze and sees Janus in the kitchen.

“I dare you,” Roman announced, “to flirt with Patton for two minutes.”

Virgil snorts. “That’s it?”

Roman just sweeps his arm dramatically. “Your dare awaits.”

Virgil shrugs, getting up off the couch and making his way to the kitchen. The instant he’s almost there, Roman scrambles up, jumping onto the couch next to Logan, almost landing on top of him, hooking his chin over the back.

Logan raises an eyebrow. “Comfortable?”

“Shush, Pocket Protector,” Roman says, flapping a hand, “and get your timer out.”

Logan rolls his eyes, checking his watch and watching Virgil lean on the counter, propping his chin on his hand.

“Hey there, cutie.”

Patton startles, whirling around to see Virgil. “Hey! Wow, you scared me, uh, yeah, hi there!”

“Sorry,” Virgil smiles, not sounding the least bit sorry, “can’t help it. You look like a cute little bunny when you’re startled.”

“Oh, god, not this,” Patton mutters, turning around, his face already starting to flush.

Virgil grins, his tongue between his teeth as Patton tries to go back to what he was doing. “You just make it too easy, cutie.”

“I do not!”

The grin turns feral. “Then why don’t you turn around and show me that pretty face?”

“Nope. No thank you. I’m going to stay over here.”

“Why, afraid of proving me right?”

“No.”

“Then come on, cutie,” Virgil says, tilting his head, “turn around.”

Patton leans his head back, sighing before turning around and spreading his arms. “Happy?”

“Mm.” Virgil grins. “You’ve got such pretty eyes, Patton.”

He stutters, his face already turning red. “Oh my god. Stop!”

“Can’t help it cutie,” Virgil says, waggling his eyebrows and chuckling when Patton covers his face, “I’ve been dared to do this for two minutes!”

“Good to know,” Patton squeaks, “that this is only happening because it’s mandatory.”

“Aw, don’t be like that, cutie, you know I’ll flirt with you anyway.”

“That is not what I meant!”

Virgil only laughs harder. “You might wanna pace yourself, cutie, you’ve still got…”

He trails off, looking at Logan. Logan checks his watch.

“One minute and twelve seconds.”

“One minute and twelve seconds left,” Virgil finishes, propping himself back up on the counter, “so…”

The sight is entertaining, Logan has to admit. Patton goes bright and flushed, his eyes squeezing shut, mumbling little things to himself and trying not to whine every time Virgil opens his mouth.

“Aw,” Virgil teases when he breaks and tries to bite down on his knuckle, “don’t muffle yourself, cutie.”

“Goodness, you need to stop.”

“I want your voice on my playlist, it’s so pretty.”

“Why?”

“I just said.” Virgil props his chin on his hand again. “It’s so pretty.”

“No, why are you doing this?”

Virgil smirks. “Because you’re so pretty.”

And with that, Patton’s reduced to another blushy panic with plenty of muttered comments and Virgil’s standing there, grinning. It’s refreshing, seeing Virgil so confident, so sure of himself. It looks good on him.

And, of course, Patton is objectively adorable.

The scene is so captivating, in fact, that Logan glances down at his watch only to realize the two minutes have expired.

“Time,” he calls, much to Patton’s relief.

“Thank goodness.”

“Aw,” Virgil pouts, “you’ll hurt my feelings, cutie.”

“Nope. No more.” Patton points a stern finger at him, the effect slightly undone by his pink cheeks and the fact that he’s obviously fighting a smile. “You get out.”

Virgil just winks and saunters back to the couch.

“Stellar performance, Dark and Stormy,” Roman declares, giving Virgil a round of applause, “truly excellent.”

“Well done,” Logan says, “that was quite the display of self-confidence.”

Virgil just lifts a shoulder and lets it drop. “Eh. Easy dare. My turn now, right?”

“Indeed.”

Virgil narrows his eyes, glancing between the two of them. “Princey. Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Roman answers immediately, “what kind of prince would I be if I turned down a challenge?”

Virgil smirks. “Alright, then. You have two minutes to make Patton redder than I did.”

“Done.”

“Virgil,” Logan chides lightly as Roman prances off toward the kitchen.

“Relax,” Virgil says, settling in to watch, “it’s not like he’s gonna hurt him.”

“No, he’s just going to fluster him with the end goal of rendering him inarticulate.”

Virgil smirks. “Exactly. Now shut up and watch.”

“Oh, Addie,” Roman calls, smirking at the way Patton startles.

“Oh, um, hey, Roman, um, what do you want?”

“I just want to talk to you, Patton.”

“Oh goodness,” Patton mumbles, already covering his face as Roman crowds him against the counter, “don’t say my name like that, that’s really mean!”

Roman’s eyes gleam. “Dearest, if you wanted me to call you pet names instead, you only had to ask, my sweet, I’m more than happy to oblige.”

“No!”

Roman just smirks, bracing his hands on either side of him. “No? Then what should I call you, gorgeous?”

Any reply is too muffled for Logan to hear. Virgil snickers as Roman sighs dramatically.

“Fine, I’ll just have to call you by your lovely, lovely name.” He leans forward to try and peer through the gaps in his fingers. “Almost as lovely as you.”

He chuckles when Patton whines again, spluttering like a fish out of water. “You’re so cute when you’re at a loss for words.”

“What do you want?”

“Oh, I was dared to make you redder than Virgil did.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re absolutely stunning, darling,” Roman answers easily, “and it’s stunningly easy to flirt with you.”

“It is not!”

Virgil snorts and Logan raises an eyebrow. Roman’s smirk widens.

“Of course is it, cutie pie,” he coos, “all I have to do is this.”

“N-no, don’t do that,” Patton stammers, trying to cover his face with a dish towel, only for Roman to catch his hands and effortlessly pull them out of the way, lacing their fingers together and holding them against the counter.

“What’s the problem, sweetie?” He gently blows a strand of hair out of Patton’s face. “Is it just that I’m…right here? Talking like this to you? Is that it, honey?”

“Mmm!”

“Hmm?” Roman tilts his head. “What’s that, cutie?”

“It’s not even flirting,” Patton manages, still looking as if he’s trying to sink into the counter.

“I’m not even saying anything, cutie,” Roman coos, “and there’s nothing I enjoy better than being able to render you speechless like this.”

Logan has to admit, Roman’s teasing is enough to make him shift on the couch, a slight flush rising unbidden to his face. Judging by the way Virgil starts fiddling with the strings on his hoodie, he’s not immune to it either.

It really should not be that much of a surprise that Roman is one of the most proficient flirters in the Mindscape. Romance, passion, and desire all fall under his purview. And yet, here they all are, slowly growing more and more flustered.

“Okay,” Virgil mutters just loud enough for Logan to hear, “Princey’s getting me and he’s not even trying.”

“I concur.” Logan adjusts his tie and glances at his watch. “Thirty seconds.”

“Come on.” Roman tugs gently at the towel in Patton’s hands. “You have to show me your cute little face, otherwise I won’t know if the dare’s over yet!”

He finally manages to get the towel away from him and gasps, quickly reaching out to cup his cheeks before he can cover his face again. “Oh, just look at you, you’re even cuter up close!”

“R-Roman!”

“Yes, cutie pie?”

“Let me go!”

“Go where,” Roman murmurs, pushing Patton gently against the counter, “can you think of anywhere better to be than right here, in my arms, while I tease you silly? Hmm? You’re not even trying to get away, sunshine.”

“Time.”

Roman chuckles, stepping back, perching his hands on his hips. “What do you think, redder than Virgil’s go?”

“Hmm,” Virgil hums, leaning over the back of the couch, “dunno. Can’t see his face from here.”

“I’m mad at you,” Patton mutters, already covering his face.

“Aw, no,” Roman purrs, “no you aren’t. Come on, gorgeous, if you don’t show us your face, I’ll just have to do it again!”

“No.” Patton forces his hands down, making Roman chuckle again. Sure enough, his face is beet red, covering his skin with such intensity that for a moment, Logan worries. Then Virgil snorts.

“Aww, he’s so cute!”

“I know, isn’t he?”

“Oh my goodness.”

“Virgil,” Logan chides lightly.

“You’re no fun, teach,” Virgil says, waving a hand, but he concedes. “Yeah, alright, Princey. You win.”

Roman bows, sweeping his hand in a wide arc, before taking one of Patton’s hands and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

“Thank you, sunshine.” With a wink, he strides back to the couch and sits down triumphantly. “That was fun!”

His eyes widen when he sees Logan adjust his glasses nervously and Virgil quickly flips up his hood.

“Don’t tell me that you got flustered too,” he teases, reaching up to poke Logan’s arm.

“Enough,” Logan says quickly, “your turn to ask.”

For a moment, he braces himself for Roman to not, indeed, agree, but then Roman simply pouts and tilts his head up.

“Logan, dare or dare?”

Logan blinks. “That is not the game, Roman.”

“Yeah, but you’re the only one who hasn’t done a dare yet, so…” Roman shrugs. “Dare or dare?”

“It seems pointless for me to choose between two of the same options,” Logan sighs, “but I will select ‘dare.’”

Roman tilts his head this way and that, considering Logan. Then he grins.

“I don’t think it’s fair if we leave Logan out,” he says to Virgil, “do you?”

“Oh, goodness, hasn’t Patton had enough?”

Virgil narrows his eyes at him. “So you don’t wanna have a turn?”

Logan fiddles with his watch. “…I didn’t say that.”

“Marvelous!” Roman claps his hands. “Oh, don’t be so shy, Logan!”

“We know you’ve got notebooks full of ways to fluster us, L,” Virgil adds, “you’re good at it, okay?”

Logan is quite proud of his ability to flirt, although how the others know about his research is a worrying question.

“So,” Roman says cheerfully, “you have two minutes, but you have a harder job than we did.”

Logan frowns and Roman’s grin widens.

“You have two minutes to make Patton melt.”

“Oh, Logan’s screwed,” Virgil chortles, tugging at his hoodie strings, “he’s so wound up right now.”

Well.

Logan gets up, adjusts his tie, and heads for the kitchen, ignoring the way Roman and Virgil scramble up onto the couch to watch.

Patton’s leaning over the counter, pressing his hand to his forehead. He glances up when Logan enters the kitchen and pauses. Contrary to his previous statement, he doesn’t look upset or angry, simply exhausted.

“You too, hmm?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Patton groans, letting his head drop onto the counter. “Did I do something? Or are you all just bored?”

“We’re bored,” Virgil shouts, “and you’re cute!”

“Shh, it’s not your turn anymore!”

“Shut up, Princey.”

Logan rolls his eyes fondly, stepping closer. Patton straightens up, waving a hand.

“Go on. Just get it over with.”

“And I thought Roman was dramatic,” Logan remarks dryly, “but I am not keeping you here. If you truly wish to leave…”

He gestures toward the stairs. Patton glances between him and the stairs.

“…really?”

“By all means,” Logan says, lowering his voice and leaning against the wall to demonstrate he had no intentions of moving, “be my guest.”

He watches, carefully keeping his face blank, as Patton starts to edge around the counter. He eyes the little bit of space he’s left and he can see the moment he realizes it’s not enough.

“Okay,” he says, “I’m gonna go now.”

“I know.” Logan tilts his head and smiles. “I’m not stopping you.”

He stops out of his reach and stares at the gap again. One more little push, then.

“You know…” Logan adjusts his glasses and looks Patton up and down. “You do not seem to be particularly…eager to leave, Patton.” He lets the corner of his mouth turn up into a smirk. “Could it be that…you do not wish to leave?”

Patton takes the bait.

As soon as Patton gets close enough, Logan hooks his foot around his ankle and blocks his exit, not bothering to hide his smirk this time. “However,” he says quietly, “I do have a task to perform.”

“You,” Patton mumbles, closing his eyes, “are mean.”

“Then allow me to make it up to you.” Logan moves, using his weight to push him back into the kitchen. “I have a proposition.”

“Logan…”

Logan smiles, leaning against the counter. “Come here.”

“That sounds awful.” Logan raises his eyebrows. “…okay, okay, I’m coming.”

Patton stops in front of him, his arms wrapped protectively around his waist. He does indeed look very cute.

“Touch can be very grounding for you,” Logan says quietly, careful to keep his voice too low for Roman and Virgil to hear, “so if you like, you may cuddle with me for the duration of the two minutes.”

“…really?”

“Yes, really.” He holds out one hand, palm up. “Or, you may leave. I won’t stop you this time.”

He hugs himself tighter, glancing between the stairs and Logan’s hand. He tilts his head.

“Come here, Patton,” he murmurs.

He takes his hand.

He pulls Patton closer, opening his arms and letting him hug him nervously. He hugs him back, creating a little pocket of intimacy apart from the rest of the room.

“There…” Logan leans down to whisper in his ear. “Isn’t that better? Now you have something to hold onto, something to hide your face, hmm?”

Patton nods, his face buried in his shoulder.

The other thing about having Patton in his arms is that he can murmur directly into his ear, which both prevents Roman and Virgil from hearing anything he’s saying and makes flustering him much, much easier. He says as much, smiling when Patton whines and tightens his grip.

“Do you know what my dare was, Patton?” When he shakes his head, Logan reaches up to gently run his hand through his hair. “It was not, in fact, to fluster you, but to make you melt.”

“M-melt?”

“Yes, dear,” Logan smirks when Patton shudders involuntarily. “Do you like the pet names, little one?”

“Logan…”

“Shh,” he murmurs, running his hand through his hair again, “it’s quite alright, dear. Physical affection helps you relax, pet names make you feel cared for. It makes sense.

“You are a sweetheart. No, no, don’t disagree with me,” he hushes, “you are. You care very much about how you can help other people and you do, sweetheart. It follows that having such affections be returned make you feel good.”

He tightens his grip, cradling his head against his shoulder. “You feel good right now, don’t you, dear?”

“…yes.”

“Then, truly, how can you blame us for wanting to call you so many?” Logan tilts his head a little more. “You always get so flustered by it.”

“No, I don’t…”

“You clearly do,” he purrs, “you’re not hiding it well, dear. I can feel how warm your face is, pressed into me like that.”

As he speaks, he feels it grow warmer still. He chuckles.

“Oh, there’s really no need to be so embarrassed, dear,” he murmurs, “it makes complete sense. Hugs have been proven to decrease stress, reduce blood pressure, and increase the production of oxytocin.“ He smirks. “Quite the addictive drug, no?”

Patton whines and he runs his hand slowly down his spine, pulling his hips against his.

“You are smaller than me—“

“Hey!”

“—you are, which increases the feeling of protection,” he murmurs, “and safety, and thus you will relax.”

He draws the word out with deliberate slowness, the end of it turning into a chuckle as he trembles in his hold.

“That’s it, dear,” he says softly, “relax. Because there’s one more reason you’re going to melt for me.”

Logan pauses, glancing up to see Roman and Virgil staring at them over the edge of the kitchen counter. He smirks and puts his mouth deliberately close to Patton’s ear.

“You care for me, don’t you, Patton,” Logan whispers, his breath ghosting over his neck, “you do, don’t you? You care for me.”

Patton whimpers.

“Say it, dear,” Logan coaxes, “say you care for me?”

“…of course I do,” comes the strangled whisper.

“Of course you do,” he purrs, “of course you do, and here you are…wrapped up in my arms…letting me call you pet names…letting you hide your blush in the crook of my neck…”

He shifts one last time, making sure Roman and Virgil can see. Raising his voice slightly, he cups the back of Patton’s head protectively. He glances at his watch.

“Ready?” He threads his fingers through the baby hairs on the back of Patton’s neck.

“One…two…three, melt for me, dear.”

The two minutes run out just as Patton whines and melts into a blushing little puddle in Logan’s arms.

“Holy shit,” Logan hears Virgil mutter, “he fucking did it.”

“I’m never underestimating him again.” Roman throws his hands up. “He did it in two minutes.”

He tightens his grip, his nails scratching the back of his neck. “Good job, dear.”

And if it makes him shudder and lean into him a little more, well, that’s just something else to add to the notebook.

It’s cathartic; he can wind them up, make them all flustered, and then open his arms and cuddle them right back down, give them the reassurance of getting all worked up in a safe environment where nothing’s really gonna hurt them. Plus, if they’re too tired to protest when he peppers kisses all over them, that’s just a bonus.

Janus—the one whose fault this is—is classic spy movie seduction. Textbook. His silver-tongue makes compliments as smooth as his scales and subtle touches that make their heads spin. Pet names, snarky comments, teasing, the lot of it. He knows they have a thing for his voice. All he has to do most of the time is get close and purr and they’re putty in his hands. Sometimes he’ll stay further away where they have nowhere to hide and just watch them squirm. Sometimes he just has to look at them a certain way and they’re gone. He is the embodiment of using the business end of your weapon to homo-erotically tilt up your opponent’s chin. Rivals Roman for how easy it is for him to make them flustered, but unlike Roman, with him, it’s a toss-up. He knows he’s a lot, and odds are, if he’s going to flirt with them, it’s more likely to be for the catharsis reason and less because they’re fun to play with. (Even though they are.) So, if he’s not having a competition with another Side or in a playful mood, he’s much gentler about it than Roman is, he’ll stop a lot sooner or pull them into his lap for cuddles. Or, like Remus, he’ll just touch them, let them hide their face in the crook of his neck, and just run his hands over them. It’s a perfect combination of grounding and flustering. Plus, warmth is good for snakes and there’s nothing warmer than a bright, flushed, flustered face. Totally doesn’t fluster people on purpose to steal their body heat.

Remus is by far the only side where his approaches are completely different depending on who it is. Virgil is flustered very easily by his innuendos and everything, the more audacious, the better. Sometimes it resorts to the two of them having a flirt-off, the loser hiding their face while the victor cackles. Or Remus will make something that totally isn’t an innuendo into one and Virgil’s gone. For Logan, often he’ll just find him and tackle him onto the nearest surface, flopping down on top of him like a cat and listening as Patton starts verbally vomiting as he gets redder and redder. But overt sexual references make Patton and Janus really really uncomfortable, so it’s the bad kind of flustered. Instead, he’ll just find them and cuddle them and loudly explain how they are in fact the best cuddler. He finds how embarrassed they get very amusing. And if it has the side effect of summoning everyone else to a cuddle pile both because of the outrageous idea that anyone is better at cuddling than them and also free cuddles, well. Oops.

So yeah. It’s a fucking mess.

At least it’s a hot mess, right?

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