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fedzkun · 4 years ago

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Villain Hunt Arc Meta: All For One’s Horrific Guide to Methodically Breaking Down Your Local OFA Holder

Ft. Turning the ‘Overpoweredness’ of OFA into a Setback, and AFO’s Successful Manipulations Of Midoriya Izuku

In which I also give AFO too much credit for all the pain he’s probably caused, and theorize that his plans to break Izuku actually started getting enacted even before he’d escaped Tartarus.

(A.k.a. me loving the angst because this is really good angst writing, but also hating it because the manga doesn’t come with a Angst with A Happy Ending tag unless you count Izuku’s ‘this is the story of how I became the greatest hero’ which isn’t really a guarantee of happiness )

So. What an arc! In the span of ten chapters (starting from the end of the War arc) Hori delivered a full-on Villain-looking, Vigilante Midoriya Izuku. Congratulations, Horikoshi, for finally introducing Akatani Mikumo!

The fast pacing and lack of breather panels are so fitting for this arc truly. AFO never gave them a moment’s rest. Yes, from henceforth as he’d promised... It’s always going to be his turn.

Izuku is making amazing progress with unlocking the full power of One For All. In his words, his abilities might as well already be on par with what a healthier All Might could do, and with no recoil to boot. Plus, there’s only one last quirk to unlock. For villain fights, I don’t think we need to worry about him losing, or him breaking anymore bones at this time.

Which, some might argue, makes Izuku too ‘OP.’

To start with, I want to talk first about the ‘overpoweredness’ of the One For All quirk. It’s a wonderful quirk truly, having inspired and amazed so many because of its sheer power. Used well, it could grant instant victories and restore the people’s wavering faith to the heroes. Because with a quirk like that on your side, everything’s going to be alright, right? There’s always gonna be that bit of hope that something is still strong enough to stand against the looming evil...right?

Yeah. That’s what the people who’d lived under All Might’s Era of Peace thought so too. History repeats.

OFA’s ‘OP-ness’ is both a great blessing and a great burden.

Here are some points on how the narrative has made OFA's 'overpoweredness' a setback:

1. All For One—that bastard—exploits the urge that comes with OFA. Just as ‘AFO the quirk’s’ goal is to steal OFA, OFA’s job is to defeat AFO, and Izuku is sacrificing himself to its cause.

Here’s another thing I want to point out: The conclusion that the heroes drew about AFO planning to capture Midoriya Izuku alive? In rereading, I’m starting to believe it’s nothing but a mere assumption of his plans. Aside from the deal made with Lady Nagant—of which I think AFO didn’t take seriously anyway and set her up for failure— (and while we as readers are already aware of his true intentions to wear Izuku down) it’s weird that nowhere had AFO directly mentioned to Izuku that he’s going to kidnap him and take his quirk from him.

2. OFA made Izuku so brilliant (e.g. Pros and former Pros alike going “This kid...”) that they really can't help but place all their hopes on him. Sighs. In an ideal world, this would be a dream come true of Izuku getting his due credit for all his heroic achievements Pro heroes have started to do to Izuku what they’ve done all their lives to All Might--which is to put him on the pedestal, while they fall back to cover him like guards/safety net. Hence, falling back to the One Pillar Model mindset.

3. OFA makes Izuku untouchable, not only to the villains, but also to his allies. Prime material to reinforce isolation. And if Izuku doesn't want to be caught, he won't make it easy for either side.

4. OFA IS SUS AF, OKAY? What are the Holders doing?! While gaining access to them makes it easier and convenient to have personal trainers in handling OFA, the vestiges prove to add a lot to Izuku’s mental load. If they’d allowed Izuku to come to the point of being caked with blood and filth, they’re not doing very well at guiding him. Realize that most of their arc interactions with Izuku is Quirk Talk. They, of all people, should know how AFO’s machinations work! Hey First, for the love of god, warn Izuku! He’s showing so many signs of being manipulated that you should be picking up on. please /sobs ;;

Tbf, like, I’m pretty sure that the Holders haven’t been as mentally okay either, which would feed into Izuku’s current mindset.

Now that the setbacks have been listed, let’s dive in to AFO’s plans to toy with Midoriya Izuku.

PHASE 1: Pre-Tartarus Breakout

Speaking of OFA being sus, there’s something that has been niggling at the back of my mind.

All For One basically tells Izuku: “You were my main interest that entire time I was in prison”. So, to pass the time in Tartarus (since he can’t use any(?) of his quirks), AFO has been doing nothing but apparently daydreaming and designing a personal hell for the Ninth Holder during that entire period. HOWEVER, it also made me wonder…

…Even before he’d broken out, had AFO made any moves at all in enacting his plans to break Izuku?

Yeah?

And here’s the kicker: he says that before Blackwhip bursted out.

AFO is a master manipulator. Assuming that Izuku doesn’t have any latent AFO quirk (for whatever reason *coughs* maybe dfo if you're a believer) or that Quirk Singularity has anything to do with it, what is the trigger to Izuku suddenly having access to Blackwhip?

I’d argue that it is All For One himself.

Why? What’s his goal? If you notice during the Joint Training arc, Izuku is feeling pretty confident about his progress. He’s rather happy and feeling blessed, and he is making leaps and bounds with base power OFA.

AFO can’t have that. He can’t allow the Ninth Holder to become too emotionally stable, or else he’d have a stronger will. So by somehow activating Blackwhip, AFO makes Izuku feel like he hasn’t made any progress with his quirk at all. During the evaluations, Izuku mentions that he still needs a lot to work on, and while not all of it is visible, with the way he behaves, it’s pretty evident that his self-confidence has taken a rather large hit.

But, wait! If AFO had tampered with OFA during the JT arc, paving the way to unlocking the rest (like he’d also done during the War arc when he tried to ‘steal’ it then), then wouldn’t AFO be sabotaging himself since he’d be making Izuku a more formidable opponent?

Sure. Except that the quirks inside OFA are mostly useless when it comes to the mental part of the fighting. The only thing they’re useful for is for the current Holder to be able to play keep-away in the physical realm. And AFO could easily just find counters for those through his work on Tomura.

You know how else the situation becomes advantageous for AFO? With every quirk unlocked, Izuku’s goalposts keep on getting away from him, and Izuku will always feel like he isn’t ready or prepared enough. Izuku will push and push himself to master OFA to its fullest, to become more powerful, at the cost of his mental/emotional stability and physical wellbeing as he wears himself down.

And every time Izuku grew more powerful, and became more ‘OP,’ he is burdened with all the aforementioned setbacks that came with it. He could be the most powerful person in the world, but it’s all for naught if he doesn’t take care of himself. This plan is both a high risk and high reward on AFO’s part, and as of the moment, with a bloody Izuku staggering all over, AFO is visibly reaping these high rewards.

PHASE 2: Post-Tartarus Breakout

He’s going to toy with Izuku until Izuku fucking breaks. What follows is his series of actions that instills the desired responses from Midoriya Izuku. Let’s see how the master manipulator plays this game of chess, shall we?

Izuku’s plan: Reach out to villains and try to save them.

AFO’s counter: Kill off those who turn their back against villainy and/or acknowledge Izuku as a true hero.

Izuku’s resulting response: Stop reaching out to villains. Gain an instant victory and move on.

After all, what do you get when you block a hero from showing sympathy? You get an unfeeling living weapon.

---

Izuku’s plan: Work with the top pro heroes to bring down AFO.

AFO’s counter: Make plans that will serve to highlight how the top pros are just slowing Izuku down. (e.g. Making moves while it’s raining, so as to divide them, but also to bring out No. 1 Hero Endeavor’s "slowness" in the rain. Nope, I don’t think that’s a throwaway line at all.)

Izuku’s resulting response: Grows more reckless, often leading the charge.

---

Izuku’s plan: Track AFO down.

AFO’s counter: Lead them to dead-ends. Or when they do supposedly reach something, endanger them.

Izuku’s resulting response: His tunnel vision worsens, as he grows more desperate.

---

Izuku’s plan: All Might following him around is okay since it would help All Might from worrying so much, and Izuku could simultaneously keep an eye on and protect All Might.

AFO’s counters: There are a lot to really fuck with this bond, damn you AFO.

Taint that passing the torch memory of ‘You’re Next.’

Declare that All Might no longer interests him. Liar. He outright stated before that he’s one for keeping a grudge

Send another assassin to Izuku [Underlying Message: You yourself are a walking danger zone to those whom you dearly care for.]

Izuku’s resulting response:

Interpret that memory of ‘You’re Next’ as taking up the position of being AFO’s shiny new plaything, and therefore supposedly sparing All Might from the torment (Unfortunately, making Izuku push AM away is just part of the torment ;A;)

Think that AM is no longer in the direct line of fire as long as AFO focuses on Izuku

Finally, push his last line of morale support away, and completely isolate himself.

Btw, I wonder how All Might feels about Izuku using Nana's quirk to get away from him.

---

The suffering doesn’t end.

Izuku’s plan: Save people.

AFO’s counters: (possibly offscreen) Send more villains and assassins to torment Izuku some more with the knowledge that he can’t save them. Sending villains out also puts innocents in danger.

Izuku’s resulting response: He won’t stop for anything. He won’t sleep, won’t eat, won’t slow down. He will always do his best to save as long as someone is in danger.

His body will keep on moving and moving and MOVING on its own.

--- All For One is very effective as a supervillain. He has managed to make the heroes think that his only goal is to capture Izuku alive for his quirk. He has Izuku right where he wants him: dancing to his tune at the palm of his hand, utterly toyed with, left with no escape in sight.

Psychologically vaulted.

PHASE 3

And so, if Izuku is being manipulated to drive himself further and further into self-destruction, what then is there left for All For One to do?

So much more. Because, my god, I think AFO has mastered the art of traumatizing the OFA Holders.

All For One once told All Might, “I will destroy all that you’ve protected.” And boy, is he delivering. He's definitely not done with AM btw.

First, he destroys All Might's image. And he is manipulating Izuku to drive himself to that point. To looking into his absolute worst.

And when that point arrives, AFO will hammer the final nail home.

Something like...

BEHOLD

JAPAN’S SYMBOL OF PEACE.

And oh, how it'll hurt. To see All Might's pride and joy be flaunted about as looking nothing like a hero to the masses, for him to be so utterly humiliated.

"See what I did to All Might's successor."

AFO will be banking upon the possibility that the angry masses will not want to be saved by whom they're tricked into viewing as someone that's the cause of all the pain. Izuku might have the willpower to stay true to his resolve, but with him on the verge of total breakdown, what would happen when he is shunned by the very people he is trying to help?

I once wrote a post about how the current events seem to be a bastardization of Izuku's wildest fantasies: he's working with the top pros, he has the most powerful quirk, and he's working with All Might (whom technically acts as a sidekick to him rn).

AFO has warped all that into a never-ending nightmare. And Izuku...

Izuku is really in need of saving.

Last thoughts:

Let me just say that it shouldn't be a competition about who gets to get through to Izuku. Right now, he’s gonna need all the help he can get, and it can’t be delivered by only one or two people. Saving Izuku is going to be a team effort, a solid support system that sees Izuku as their classmate/friend/student/actual person that they care about. And there’s sufficient space for that.

More hands reaching out means more chances to catch him if he falls.

#bnha #bnha 317 #bnha manga #bnha analysis #bnha meta #all for one #afo #midoriya izuku #all might #toshinori yagi

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cyborg-franky · 3 years ago

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Haii Franky! I saw march prompts were open and since my bday is in March I figured I'd send in a request

Hugs 18 or kisses 17 for either sabo or ace please

Thank you for taking the time to look at this and thank you for everything you do I very much appreciate it

It's no worries <3 I picked Ace because he is darling little matchstick.

Ace x GN Reader SFW Prompt: kissing away tears Word Count: 441 ANGST - oops

You sat on the bed and tried to get your breathing under control. Tears ran down your cheeks as you looked at your hands, you’d washed your hands over and over until Marco had to step in and heal you before you did too much damage as you scrubbed and washed them while sobbing and shaking your head sadly.

There was no longer any of the chef’s blood on your skin, but it feels like it. You’d been one of the first on the scene, you’d rolled him over and seen. You shook your head once more and the tears rolled down your cheeks, the pain fresh in your mind.

Ace entered the room, you heard his heavy boots scuff along the floor before you heard him sigh, it wasn’t one of annoyance, it was tired, exhausted. The usual bags under his eyes seemed magnified, eclipsing the adorable freckles and his warm brown eyes that looked at you with a sympathetic gaze.

“Hey, I’m going to make this okay.” Ace said as sat on the bed next to you, you felt the dip in the mattress as you allowed him to pull you closer.

“I’ll get him back, I’ll avenge him, watch me.” You could tell Ace was getting heated, his body temperature started to increase as he stroked his fingers over your arm.

“Ace, it won’t bring him back though, will it?” you started to hiccup and sob softly, peering up at him with teary eyes.

“I know but I can’t just sit here, I need to do this, I need to get payback for Thatch.” He watched as tears trickled down your cheeks, he gently brushed away the tears.

He tried to give you a comforting smile, the truth was he was shaking inside, his temper and his self-hatred swirled inside his heart, building up a storm of guilt and blame that prickled his every sense. Seeing you crying just fuelling his need, his sense of duty to fix the problem that should never have happened on his watch.

“I promise I’ll be back soon though, alright?” He cupped your face and brought you closer to him.

You closed your eyes, trying to steady your breathing as he placed sweet kisses on each tear tail, wanting to kiss your pain away, kiss away the sadness. He wanted to absorb all the negativity and sadness that weighed down your heart and take them, forge them into weapons against the bastard that had done all this.

“You promise?” you mumbled when he finished kissing, never letting your face out of his gentle hold, rubbing his nose against your own.

“Yeah, promise.”

TAG LIST:

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@iloveportgasdace @bepoprotectionsquad @ace-no-isha @my-muses-in-op @whisplion @thatsprettycoolbro @fire-fist-ann@rivvd-art @santoru @mimi-ya @simp4ace @aifozu @useless-potatho @iloveportgasdace @smoleeveewrites@strawhat-bast @gonuclear

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notepadsandtealeaves · 4 years ago

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K. Bokuto || Say My Name A Thot’s Thoughts 💦

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT || 18+ ONLY ||

|| ao3 version | hq tag | m.lists | main blog ||

↠ Requested By: This damned thirst dream that won’t leave me be until I write it out ↠ Reader Gender: Neutral ↠ Content Type: So very NSFW ((*whacks minors on the nose with a rolled up newspaper* No! Not for you!!)) ↠ Chronology: Post time skip. ↠ CWs/TWs: Any applicable warnings can be found in the tag list under the cut. ↠ Betas? Lmaoooooo… ↠ Total WC: 2.3k~

“I know you know it, sweetheart—so say it. Say my fucking name, right the fuck now.”

He’ll get what he wants—even if he has to fuck it out of you…

I want this man to snap my spine like a gd glow stick. That’s it, that’s the tweet.

((p*rn with v. little plot ahead, in case you somehow couldn’t figure that out lol))

💦 Tags: Reader uses they/them pronouns (tho I don’t think Reader’s pronouns actually come up in this? dk how I managed that *shrugs*) | Reader has ambiguous anatomy | Penetrative sex (missionary that turns into a mating press, Reader receiving) | Rough-ish sex (some grabbing of the face, and like he’s really laying into you, but it doesn’t get too heavy) | ((so maybe it’s more ‘hard’ than ‘rough’?? idk, I’ll let you lot decide)) | ((also, Bo’s a lil bit feral in this one, ngl)) | Some dom/sub undertones | ((my subby ass is predictable as hell, so are you even surprised at this point?? lmao)) | A smattering of ✨ ~Size kink~ ✨️ | ((Bo’s a big, big boy with a big, BIG dick, but I digress)) | Use of petnames (pretty baby, sweetheart, that kinda beat) | Also Bo’s got a bit of voice kink—who saw that one coming?? | ((me, I did, because I just made it a thing lol)) | Unprotected Sex because is fic, and is hot in fic. Don’t the thing irl unless you take proper precautions and discuss it with your partner well beforehand, mmkay? Mmkay… | Also what probably amounts to an unrealistic amount of cum, but look—I’ve got my kinks, okay? Lmao | Also, also—potentially OOC Bokuto if you canon him to be soft ‘n’ sweet in bed. He can be, and is a good portion of the time, but like… sometimes he just wants to bully you a bit while he fucks you into the mattress, yanno? | Also, also, also—unintentional cockwarming | Sappy ending because OP is a giant bb that just wants to be loved

“Bo-Bokuto, gods, please,” you damn near sob, the pleasure coursing through the whole of your body setting your hands to feebly grasping at the sheets, your face, and anything else you can reach in an attempt to ground yourself.

For his part the man above you is distinctly unamused, though for the life of you, you cannot figure out why that is–

“That’s not my name, baby. Not when I’m taking you like this.”

Oh. That.

In all honesty, you don’t think anyone can blame you for the slip up—after all, the pair of you were little more than acquaintances just a week ago. Sure, you’d been keeping up a line of friendly banter on those not-so-rare occasions when he decided to grace your little deli with his presence, and yeah you could reliably call him a regular at this point, but still you’d hardly been expecting him to ask you out when he bounded through the door last Friday. What’s more you didn’t think that your very first date would go so well that he would be taking you on another just a few days later, and finally a third one two days after that. To say that the pair of you are speed running your relationship is an understatement, and yet somehow things don’t feel rushed in the slightest.

This is more than likely due to what you’ve now dubbed the ‘Bokuto Effect’.

Said effect seems to lend an air of stability to actions that would otherwise leave you recoiling. And how can it not when he’s just so… him. Kind and sweet, caring and compassionate… You may not have known him for long, but you’re thoroughly convinced that there’s not a malicious bone in this man’s body. This is why you allowed him to follow you up to your apartment tonight, despite it having been technically less than a week of your being together—gods, are you even together? You have no idea as you’ve yet to actually talk about anything even remotely close to that, much less bothered about putting a label on it. There’s no time to consider something that ultimately feels tangential when you’re in the middle of falling at a breakneck speed.

(You can only hope that he feels the same, this quickening that has you casting aside a lifetime’s worth sensibility and letting him in like this. It’s hard to tell when he’s always smiling, always laughing, always keeping it light and bubbly and wonderful…)

In the now Bokuto—no, Koutaro—parts his lips around a particularly vicious looking grin. “I know you know it, sweetheart—so say it. Say my fucking name, right the fuck now.”

You try, you swear you do, but when he’s drilling so deeply into you, his thick head scraping against that one spot with every drag of his thick cock… words become understandably difficult. You slur out something with roughly the same composition as the appellation (you think) but valiant though they are, your efforts are not enough to appease him. The sound of his laugh paired with the glint in his eyes has you shivering underneath him. Who knew he could wear ‘cocky bastard’ so well?

“Aww, listen to you,” he coos, condescension dripping from every syllable. “Cock drunk already, baby? Can’t say my name because you can’t remember it, huh? Well lemme help you out.”

Suddenly the legs that had been tossed over his broad (so, so damn broad—fuck) shoulders are being pushed up against your chest with the whole of his impressive weight following closely behind. Your resulting scream is loud enough that you’re sure to get a noise complain or several, and maybe even a visit from the cops if your neighbors confuse your bliss for a legitimate cry for help. But those are all distant worries, things that cannot find a permanent home in a mind that is far too clouded with lust and a resounding chant of more-more-MORE.

You claw at his back as he bottoms out over and over again, marking territory that you’re not entirely sure is yours to claim; the sounds that are pouring out of you all the while would be mortifying, you’re sure, if you weren’t so lost in the sex fog. For his part, the man above you is just as vocal, with a series of hisses, groans, and chuckles falling past his lips as he works at dismantling you, piece by needy piece. It seems to take him a few moments to remember his original goal—or maybe it’s more so a case of an artist admiring his work—but once he does…

“Kou- “-tar- “-o.”

He fucks the syllables into you, growling them directly in your face each time his hips come to press flush against the plush of your ass and thighs. He repeats it again and then a third time before he palms the bottom half of your face. That he can cover such an impressive area with just one hand should probably unnerve you, but as it stands the size disparity only makes you hotter. You moan into his grasp only to have the sound scale up into a squeak when he smooshes your cheeks inwards with a flex of his fingers. The movement sees your lips jutting and puckering in what you’re sure has to be an extremely unflattering matter, but if he minds the view he doesn’t show it.

“Come on, pretty baby,” he starts, voice surprisingly even (or maybe not, given his job’s stamina requirements), “I know you’re feelin’ good, but that doesn’t excuse your bad behavior. Now say it with me—Kou-tar-o.”

“Kou- Kou—ahh~! Fuck, so good–”

He tuts at that, his grip going that tiny bit tighter. “Focus, baby. Kou-”

“Kou-” you repeat, the breathy quality of your voice reducing the sound to little more than a pant.

“-tar-”

“-o.”

“-oo-ooo shit!”

When you feel the first brush of his fingers against your sex the only thing that keeps you from vaulting straight off of the bed is the sheer size of him. You’d been so focused on getting things right (on giving him what he wants) that you hadn’t noticed his free hand moving to what little space there is to be found between you. Years of honing his craft has left the thing roughened with thick callouses; they had felt a bit odd against your own smoother palm when he’d held your hand earlier in the day, but feeling them now… The scrape is addicting, adding an extra delicious layer to the pleasure of him working over your core with a precision that shouldn’t be possible as this is the first time you’ve been together like this–

Just yet another result of the Bokuto Effect, you suppose.

Koutaro kisses you deeply then, greedily filling up his lungs with your moans even as he empties out your own. When he breaks away with a growled pant some long seconds later he’s all wide, wild eyes and pouring praise.

“That’s good, baby—fuck, it sounds so good when you say it like that. K-keep doin’ that f’me, yeah? Keep screaming my name and I promise I’ll make you feel so, so good– Gods, you’re so good…”

And he’s as good as his word.

Every utterance of his name sees him taking you harder, impossibly deeper, and faster. It’s a loop of pleasure that is all too easy to fall into; your whimpering cries giving him what he wants as his rolling hips work hard to give you what you need. Sweat darkens the lighter strands of his hair at the base turning the pale silver into something more akin to slate, with the salty liquid occasionally breaking past his hairline to slide down the chiseled contours of his face. Knowing that he—a professional athlete who is in near godly shape—is fucking you hard enough to actually break a sweat is a heady thing, one that draws you yet closer to your end.

With your orgasm so close at hand your brain’s higher functions all but cease. All there is in this moment is you and him and the one word that is left to you: Koutaro.

“Sound so pretty,” he tells you before pressing a quick kiss to your mumbling lips. “Gods, babe, I’m close—so damn close, I– ah-ah-ah shit!” A particularly decadent roll of his hips nearly sees you both shaking apart right then and there, but he pulls back some—just a bit, just enough to draw things out a little longer.

“‘M close,” you tell him a short while later, your declaration sounding more like a lament than anything. You don’t want this to end, but at the same time you need it to if only for your poor battered hole’s sake. “Fuck, Kou, please…”

He softens a bit at that, those molten pools of gold syruping with something tender as he takes in your fucked out expression. “I got you, baby, I promise—you cum when you need to, ‘kay? Do it and I’ll be right there with you…”

This touch of gentleness is well at odds with the way he continues to take your body through its paces, and that dichotomy is the very thing that finally drives you over the edge. You manage to eke out his name one final time, and the choked cry is enough to see him falling into bliss with you. His hips stutter compulsively as rope after hot, thick rope of cum shoots into you. You can feel it squelching out of you every time he pulls back, the liquid gliding warm and viscous over your skin to drip down and pool underneath you in a small puddle that’s only going to get bigger when he pulls out—if he pulls out. It certainly doesn’t seems as if he plans to anytime soon, not with the way he’s kissing you all over your face and neck, the ministrations cut through with praise and little love-drunk giggles.

Once he’s come back to himself, Koutaro flips you both over so that you’re resting against his chest—single-handedly, a thing that’s way hotter than such a simple action should be—with his softened cock still tucked snugly inside of you. You can tell the exact moment his skin makes contact with the cooling wet spot because he yelps before jerking you both over to the left. You’re just as love-drunk as he is apparently because you cannot stop giggling all the while, giddy at the return of the silly antics that had drawn you to him in the first place (not that you mind seeing this other, darker, more mature version of him at all).

He tilts your head up towards him for a short, sweet kiss before asking, “What ya laughing at, pretty?”

“You.”

“Wow, rude.”

“Whatever, you like it,” you tease as you prop yourself up against his chest.

“I mean… yeah,” he concedes with a laugh, “but only because it’s you.”

There’s a tenderness to his gaze that turns the simple phrase into an admission and you find yourself ducking your head in an attempt to conceal just how flustered it’s left you. Suddenly the scar underneath his right pec is the most interesting thing in the world, and you find yourself lightly tracing over it as you mutter out a quiet, “Oh really?”

“Mmhmm.” As the onomatopoeic sound vibrates through his chest and up into you it somehow manages to carry far more truth than something more elegant could ever hope to—because it’s real, because it’s him.

“I like you a whole helluva lot, ____,” he continues on, “and if I’m being completely honest I’m really hoping that I didn’t screw things up.”

That’s enough to get you to look up again, and Koutaro takes in your confused look with a sheepish expression of his own. “Yanno, with all of this.” He gestures vaguely over the length of your still naked bodies. “I, um… I have a tendency to go full tilt when it’s something I want, but that’s not always the move when it comes to relationships—or am I presuming too much in calling what we’ve got a ‘relationship’? I don’t think I am, not with the way you’re smiling, but…”

You swat at his chest and earn another heart stopping kiss for your troubles. The man—your man?—underneath you gives you his signature megawatt grin, though it fades into something softer and more intimate as he regards you.

“I think you’ve already given me your answer, but just to make sure—can I call you mine?”

You trail your fingers over the expanse of his well-defined jawline before cradling his cheek in your palm as you tell him, “Only if I can call you mine, too.”

He huffs out a laugh as he nods a bit before nuzzling into your hand. “Yeah, definitely.”

“Good.”

“Great,” he amends.

“Fantastic, even.”

“Stupendous.”

“Amazing.”

“Wonderful…”

The pair of you carry on like that for a good while, exhausting your vocabularies and arguing over synonyms in between laughter and sweet kisses until rumbling stomachs demand their due.

|| Bonus

Imagine sitting in Bo’s lap while he feeds you your snack of choice. You’re both still nude because why the fuck not, tho he has opted to get you a nice, soft blanket to burrito in. So anyways, he feeding you while you guys are watching something on the television, and he finds said something v. interesting—so interesting, in fact, that the next morsel he feeds you gets shoved damn near into the back of your throat.

Cue him laughing out an apology for gagging you—“I didn’t do it on purpose, baby, I swear!”—and kissing away the compulsory tears that are streaming down your cheeks from nearly having your life ended by a set of ridiculously long fingers and a fucking Dorito or whatever the fuck he was feeding you lmfao…

© notepadsandtealeaves, 2021 || Please do not repost, translate, or otherwise alter or distribute my works without my express permission. And for the love of god keep it away from Youtube and TikTok lol…

#back at it again with the thirst lmao #anyways...#((Immy does fan fiction: The Volleybaes))#((💦 posts))#bokuto x reader #bokuto x gn!reader #bokuto x gender neutral reader #bokuto x you #bokuto x y/n #bokuto smut #bokuto imagine #bokuto scenario #haikyuu bokuto #haikyuu smut

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hellothere-generalangsty · 4 years ago

Text

THE BAD BATCH THEORY

Some spoilers of ep1, ep2 and ep8

Also a TW later on (it's notified so don't worry)

I hate it, but I still think about what my bf told me a few days ago about Crosshair

Basically he told me "I'm sure he doesn't have a chip and he's willingly following the Empire"

And I was like "no because he reacted to Order 66, said the infamous 'good soldiers follow orders' and they showed a scene where he was tortured as they enhanced his chip so it could totally take control of him"

But then yesterday I think I read this post on Tumblr where OP said smth like "what if he gets the chip removed but remains loyal to the Empire"

And I'm telling you, this is making me nervous because I know he's an asshole to the regs and he's cold and irritating; hell I would probably punch him if I met him irl.

But also. I can't imagine him just being bad. I can't picture him willingly hunting his brothers, trying to kill them, obeying orders like a good little soldier and being used as a war tool by the Empire when he couldn't take an order from Rex if Hunter didn't agree to it first.

Like... I know some people don't like him/ hate his guts, which I understand (difference btw fiction and reality, like I said above I would probably punch the snark out of him if I met him irl) but I also see the way he's synchronised with his brothers, the way he teases Wrecker with silly bets on who will take out the more droids; or the way he gently pat Echo's shoulder when they rescued him; or the way he holds so much respect for Hunter and his leadership.

I mean, family is a damn weird thing, sometimes you fight, you drag each other down, you make snarky remarks; but you also always got their back when they need you, you'd do anything to protect them from intruders and you'd put yourself on the line to make sure nothing bad happens to them.

And that's what he does everytime we see him with the BB pre-Order 66.

And post-Order 66, he sticks to his brothers, even if he disagrees with Hunter about the fate of Caleb, even if he feels filled with frustration and anger. He only turned against them when he's completely brainwashed by Tarkin and the enhencement of his chip; and even then we still have moments where he's doubting/hesitating (ep8), reflecting back (ep2).

So yeah. Do what you want with that, I just want Crosshairs saved from the chip, and see the aftermath, the consequences it has on his relation with his brothers; and with himself.

(TW: violence/ death, implicit mention of wanting to die, break down)

Just imagine:

Crosshair getting rid of the chip, fully aware of what he did under its control; all the killings and the tracking and the death threats on his brother's lives.

The way he almost shot Hunter, then Tech, then tried to get Omega killed.

The scars on his face being a painful reminder of him ordering his Empire squad to brun his family alive.

Have him sit by himself in the cockpit of the Havoc Marauder, unable to sleep because of the nightmares he has everytime he closes his eyes.

Let him get really uncomfortable when one of the Batcher join him; Wrecker or Hunter, sitting in silence in one of the seat, trying to keep him company but not wanting to invade too much...

But it's too much to bear anyway, and he breaks down. He shoves his face in his hands, barely able to mutter a "sorry"

And first he got tears rolling down his cheeks as he whispers "I couldn't help it", and it get worse when he says that he tried, he really did, he missed his shots even though it was atrocious and so hard to fight against the damn chip

And as he ugly cries, cockpit filled by his sniffing and his sobs, he confesses that he wanted one of them to get him.

"I wanted the nightmares to stop"

And his brother, sitting next to him, so taken aback by his confession, his behavior, he doesn't even know what to say neither how to react

Because the snarky and cold-facaded Crosshair is gone and all that's left is a broken man, a little brother begging for forgiveness.

I want a brutal shift in his behavior, as a direct consequence of the effect the chip had on him; the possessive and oh so nefast influence.

I want him being mentally and physically unable to mock or get snarky at his brothers because it triggers memories of the times he really did try to hurt them.

I want him to be as silent as usual, but now when he talks it's always to bring out something positive his brothers did or said; or a constructive criticism on a plan, a mission. He still chews on his toothpick, even more than he did before, and he cannot sleep alone anymore.

He grows to loathe cold blue, and doesn't protest when Omega paints a miniature version of his plush on his helmet. The next time the Batchers cross path with Rex, he takes him to a quiet corner and apologize about that one mission to save Echo, about the regs- the brothers Rex lost during Order 66.

I want him to realise that he was an asshole, but he is not a bad person in his core. Let him face the consequences of his snark; but also let him heal from the traumatic experiences he had to endure because of the chip, the Empire, Tarkin and Palpatine.

___________________________________________

Edit: just tagging @loth-wolffe again don't mind me I deleted the comment that's why 💀

#I don't want him to be turned into a monster by willingly choosing the Empire over his family #especially when we have lot of evidences of the peculiar yet real affection and brotherhood between the Batchers #I know Crosshairs is an asshole but it doesn't mean he's a monster #I hope Filoni and his team won't make the mistake of mixing up both #crosshair #tbb #the bad batch theory #the bad batch #Inhibitor chip #Empire Crosshair #theory #I'm really concerned about Crosshair's fate here #I want him to heal #be a better person #Make him a complex character #the same way you did to Fives and Rex and Ahsoka and Dogma and Anakin and Echo and Wrecker and everyone else #don't waste his potential just because he's the stereotypical asshole of the team #Crosshair deserves it #the bad batch deserves it too #bad batch family #angst #mesa writes

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donutloverxo · 5 years ago

Text

Please you

Kinktober day 2 - lingerie

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

Summary - You buy some pretty lingerie to please your overworked husband and hope it doesn’t end up ruined by his hands.

Warnings - 18+ smut (m/f), dom Andy, name calling, cum play, slight spanking.

Pairing - Andy Barber x reader

Word count - 1552

Masterlists are linked in the bio!

You rubbed the mesh material of your babydoll between your fingers - coarse and rough. The baby pink nightie was made of net with a matching thong that was very uncomfortably riding up your butt. Your nipples and torso were completely visible, really what was the point of making such a thing? You looked at your reflection in the mirror…

Oh yeah. It’s supposed to be sexy and enticing. Which to be fair - it worked. You got worked up just looking at yourself.

‘Damn I’d fuck me’ you muttered to yourself.

What you weren’t sure of was if your husband would like it. Andy seemed to hate any sort of clothing on you with a burning passion.

Even going as far as establishing naked Wednesdays. Which was exactly what it sounded like - Wednesdays you spent completely naked, except for the apron which you wore while working in the kitchen and he was clothed in his usual loungewear.

On your wedding night you had worn a beautiful and classy white satin nightie with lace trimmings. The bastard ripped it off in just a few seconds. Hundreds of dollars done the drain. You knew he was just showing off. Having recently been promoted to the position of the DA he got a massive pay bump. Giving you the liberty to buy whatever you want.

You sprinted off to the living room as soon as you heard his typical ‘Honey, I’m home’ greeting.

“How was your day, daddy?” you asked as you sneaked up behind him.

“So long and tiring, princess. I couldn’t wait to see you.” He groaned as he took off his tie and jacket, putting them on the armrest of his couch, he plumped down in on the it.

He finally looked in your direction - it had been such a long day, but he knew he’d feel better as soon as he got a look at you.

His jaw dropped as he took you in, clad in a flimsy piece of lingerie that literally left nothing to his imagination, your hands behind your back as you swayed side to side.

“Do you like it?” you asked suddenly feeling shy. Even though there was no need to be. This was your husband. He’d seen you in much more compromising situations. But there was still that little doubt that he’d reject you, that he wouldn’t appreciate your efforts.

He licked his lips at the sight of your hard nipples poking through the fabric, “Do a twirl for me, princess.” he instructed.

Like the good girl that you were - you followed. Turning around and lifting the helm a bit to wiggle your ass. “Will you spank it today, daddy?” you cooed as you looked back at him.

“Of course, honey. But first you gotta suck daddy’s cock.” he said unlooping his belt and pushing his pants and briefs down to pull his hard cock free of them.

You swiftly walked over to him and knelt before him, waiting for further instructions.

“What’s all this about, doll? Hm?” he asked as he smeared his leaking tip around your lips.

“I just wanted to please you, daddy. You’ve been working so hard.” You swallowed your saliva - already drooling, you needed to have him fuck your throat so bad. You whined as he started to pump his cock with his hand, spilling more of his creamy juices on your mouth.

“That’s not how it works, princess. I take care of you.” he grunted as he jerked himself harder with his hand, he knew just how desperate and crazy it would make you.

“No,” you shook your head as tears spilled from your eyes “Please let me suck it. I’ll be good.” you promised eagerly.

He stopped his moments, his heart swelled as you cried, he wiped your tears off with his thumb “You promise you’ll be good?” he smiled as you nodded. “You’re always good baby,” he praised as he pushed your eager mouth down his length, groaning and slightly wiggling his hips as he bottomed out, your nose touching his pelvis as you gagged around him.

“Just relax, princess,” he reminded you as he traced a thumb over your throat, groaning as he felt his cock lodged deep in it. Bunching your hair up in his palm, so he could properly see all of your face, he pulled out till only his tip was in your mouth “Such a good girl. You love sucking daddy’s cock, don’t you?”

“Yesh” you answered, your voice muffled with your mouth full of cock, as he roughly fucked into your face. You tried your best to keep from choking every time he hit the back of your throat.

“You’re such a cock hungry whore. Aren’t you, baby?” he grunted as he felt his climax approaching, the gags and squelching noises you made only fuelled his it.

“Such a pretty slut.” his hips stuttered as he emptied himself in your mouth, holding your head down on his shaft he painted the back of your head with his cum. “Swallow it all, sweetheart. Be a good slut.” he rasped as he stayed inside you for a minute to keep himself hard. He wasn’t done with you yet.

He pulled you off of his cock as you coughed, a string of your spit and his cum connecting to his tip from your lips.

“What do you say, slut?” he pushed all of his spilled cum back inside your mouth.

“Thank you for your cum,” you swallowed “daddy.” Your voice hoarse because of your abused throat,

“You’re welcome, princess. Are you tired?” You shook your head no as he sat back against the cushions. “Come get on daddy’s cock and ride him. Then I’ll give you one more treat to swallow.”

You stood op on shaky legs and straddled his lap, shifting your panties to the side you held onto the base of his shaft before sinking down on him. “Oh,” you moaned as you closed your eyes shut. Too intimidated by Andy’s intense gaze. “It feels so good,” you settled your head in the crook of his neck, nuzzling his bread as you panted.

“Come on, princess. You’re doing the work today remember? Now let me look at you properly.” he pushed you back so he could ogle your breasts.

You curled your hands around his neck for support as you sat back, bouncing up and down on his throbbing hard cock. “Andy, no,” you whined, you knew the predatory look he gave you all too well “please don’t. I really like this one.” It was probably of no use. He was going to ruin yet another piece of cute lingerie.

“What did you call me?” he chastised you, delivering a harsh smack to your ass.

“Daddy,” you quickly corrected yourself.

“I’ll do whatever I want with you. You’re my perfect little fuck doll.” he groaned as he grabbed the curve of your hips, rolling his own to feel more of your tight wet cunt “Isn’t that right?”

You nodded as you quickened your pace, almost on the edge of your own orgasm.

“I do like this one though. I’ll let you have it, princess.” He gushed as he sucked your hard nipple through the mesh, pulling and pinching at the other.

“That’s it sweetheart. Just let it go.” He encouraged you as he felt you clenching around him.

“Oh...oh, daddy,” you crashed onto him as you felt your whole body pulsate, heaving on top of his chest.

“Come on, sweetheart. Daddy promised you one more treat.” he said as he kissed your hair.

You sobbed as you pulled him out of your drenched cunt. Digging your nails into his shoulders as he traced your pussy with his fingers before pushing them in your hole.

“You’re so wet sweetheart. You made a mess of my dress pants.” he tutted as he looked at the stains on his pants.

“I’m so sorry, daddy,” your breath hitched as he teased your swollen lips.

“Get on your knees.” he ordered as he pulled his fingers out of you, bringing them up to his mouth to suck them clean.

You resumed your previous position as he pumped his cock in front of you. Spurts of his cum landing on your face, chest and nightie.

He jerked his softening cock till he was sure he had nothing left. He heaved as he admired his work. Your face drenched in his cum, staring up at him with sweet doe eyes.

“Clean me up now.” you nodded as you lapped at his cock with kitten licks, taking a hanky out of his pocket to clean him up and tuck him back in his pants.

“You did good, baby.” he threw his head back, feeling completely spent and satiated.

“I made dinner too, daddy, your favorite meatloaf.” you said, laying your head on his thigh, tracing his cum which was on your skin with your fingers.

“Go set the table. And don’t change. I’ve got more plans for this little number.” he said as he pushed a flimsy strap down your shoulder to reveal the swell of your breast.

You giggled as you got up, “Okay, daddy,” giving his lips a peck you skipped on over to the kitchen. Wiping down your face and then setting the table for dinner.

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be join the taglist or shoot me an ask/dm.

comments and reblogs are really appreciated!

#andy barber x reader #kinktober #berrys kinktober #andy x reader #andy Barber #andy barber x oc #andy barber x y/n #andy barber x you #chris evans x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you

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kanerallels · 4 years ago

Text

I'd Follow You To The Great Unknown

(for Kanera Week, based on the prompt "found family/believing")

Read on AO3 here!

@kaneraweek

Word Count: 3,299

Tags/Warnings: rated T for allusions to torture and serious injury

Summary: Nothing lasts forever. Kanan and Hera are made painfully aware of that after a slipup during a mission

Kanan had known this would happen someday. It had been inevitable from the start. Even the Spectre could only avoid the Empire for so long.

And he had, since he was twenty years old. For the past eight years, he’d fought against the Empire, side by side with the Rebel cell he’d helped to form-- Sabine Wren, Ahsoka Tano, Ryder Azadi. And eventually, Ezra Bridger and Hera Syndulla. They worked well together. Kanan couldn’t imagine working without them.

But then he’d gone on a mission. Just a routine op, nothing they hadn’t done a million times before. It was a milk run-- what was the worst that could happen?

Typically enough, the Empire had seemed to take that as a challenge. The literal worst possible thing had happened-- an Inquisitor had showed up. And Kanan had known, right then and there, that there was only one possible outcome. Ahsoka hadn’t been anywhere near them, and the Inquisitor had been heading straight for Ezra.

So Kanan had dropped his katana and called on the Force, throwing Ezra as far away from the Inquisitor as possible. And as the Inquisitor had turned towards him with devious delight in his eyes, Kanan had pulled out his lightsaber and ignited it, blue light blazing to life.

They’d gotten away by some miracle. Kanan had managed to hold back the Inquisitor long enough for Hera to bring the Ghost in and pick them up. And now they were on their way back, and Kanan knew what had to happen next.

“Kanan, what are we gonna do?”

Ezra’s question snapped him out of his thoughts, and he looked at the kid, who’s eyes were wide with fear. “The Inquisitor-- he saw you. He saw your lightsaber.”

“I know, kid,” Kanan said, keeping his voice calm. And he felt calm, strangely enough. Maybe it was the total certainty he held in his heart about their next move. Putting a hand on Ezra’s shoulder, he told him, “It’s gonna be okay.”

Some of the fear faded from Ezra’s face, and he nodded. “But-- how?”

For the first time, Kanan found himself hesitating. He didn’t want to lie to Ezra about this. But he knew there was no way the boy would let him make the next move, not if he could help it. “We’ll talk when we get home,” he told Ezra. “For now, stay calm, and be ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“Whatever path is set before you.”

Frowning, Ezra started, “What does that--”

The intercom crackled, and Hera’s voice came over it. “We’re landing. Everyone off, fast.”

The crew piled off, Ezra in the lead. As Kanan headed off, Hera joined him. She caught his gaze, her eyes concerned. “Kanan--”

“We’ll talk when we get to Mace and Depa,” Kanan promised quietly. He started to move out of the ship, but Hera grabbed him by the arm.

“No,” she said flatly. “Now.”

Kriff. Kanan winced, but reluctantly stayed behind as the others filed off the ship. Once they were gone, he slowly turned to Hera, meeting her gaze.

“Kanan,” she said, her voice steady. “Tell me you’re not going to do what I think you’re going to do.”

Kanan met her gaze, feeling a stab of pain go through him. He thought about their engagement party, the moment when he’d first kissed her and knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he loved her. “I’ll never lie to you,” he said.

“No.” Hera shook her head. “You can’t do this-- there are other ways.”

Resting his hands on her shoulders, Kanan just took her in for a moment. She was beautiful even in her anger, and incredibly strong, and he’d never stop wondering how he’d gotten so lucky. “We both know there’s not. Hera--”

“Don’t do this,” she said, her voice unsteady. “Don’t-- we need you, Kanan. I need you.”

“You’ll be fine without me,” Kanan said. “You’ve always been strong enough on your own.”

Stepping away from him, Hera shook her head. “That’s not the point, and you know it. Please, don’t--” she stopped, her voice breaking, and Kanan’s heart broke with it.

He moved forward and pulled her into his arms, and Hera went willingly, burying her face in his chest, her hands fisting in his shirt. “I can’t lose you,” she whispered, and Kanan felt her shudder.

“You won’t,” Kanan responded, stroking her back soothingly. “You’ll get me back. There’s no one else I’d trust to save me than this team. But I need you to stay strong for them, just for now.”

“It feels like I’ll break without you,” Hera choked out, a sob cracking her voice. “If you’re gone, everything’s going to fall apart.”

“It won’t. They have you, Ezra, and Ahsoka. Together, you’ll protect our family.” Kanan was silent for a moment, then said, “Please, Hera. I can’t do this if I don’t know that you’re safe.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t help, then,” Hera muttered. “To keep you safe.”

“We both know you’re not going to do that,” Kanan said. “This Rebellion has always been important to you, and you need to keep the beginnings of it safe. We both will be, just… in different places.”

Hera didn’t speak, simply clung to Kanan as she cried, and Kanan held her close, feeling tears prickle at his own eyes. But he couldn’t indulge them, not now.

Finally, Hera took a shaky breath. She pulled back, and Kanan was relieved to see determination and resolve glinting in her eyes. “I’ll keep them safe,” she told him. “And then I’m coming back for you.”

“I know,” Kanan said simply.

They made their way back into the Jedi residence, where the others were waiting. Depa was the first to see them, and her eyes narrowed as they approached. “What’s going on?” she demanded. “Ezra told us about the Inquisitor. What’s your plan?”

Kanan hesitated. This was the last news he wanted to bring them. He knew it was going to be hard on them, especially Ezra. But there was no getting away from it. “Everyone’s packing up and getting out of here,” he told them calmly. “We’re getting on the Ghost and heading for Alderaan. Hera’s ship can’t be tracked, so the Empire won’t know where you’re going. You’ll be able to slip out quickly and easily, as long as--”

“Wait, you?” Sabine broke in. “What do you mean? Aren’t you coming with us?”

Oh, Force. Kanan met Ezra’s eyes as he responded, forcing himself to maintain eye contact. “No. I’m not.”

Ezra’s eyes went wide, horror flashing through them. “No. Kanan, you can’t stay--”

“The Empire knows that it’s me they’re looking for,” Kanan said quietly. “I’m the only official Jedi here that has a blue lightsaber. Pryce will jump on this chance to get rid of one of us. If I cause enough of a ruckus when they come for me, it’ll cause the distraction you need to get out of here. And if I don’t go with you, the Empire won’t be so eager to follow.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Ezra protested, panic cracking his voice. “There’s no way I’m letting you go. Kanan, please--”

“Ezra,” Kanan cut in. “This is my choice. I need you with the others, to keep them safe.” Crossing the space between them, he rested a hand on Ezra’s shoulder. “I need you to do this for me.”

Jerking away, Ezra shook his head, angry tears glittering in his eyes. “NO. We can’t just leave you behind-- you can’t just give up!”

He started to back away, but Kanan caught hold of him, pulling him closer. Ezra started to struggle, but slumped against Kanan, weeping into his shirt. “Please don’t go. Please, Kanan.”

Taking a shaky breath, Kanan cleared his throat quickly. “I’m sorry, kid. I don’t want to leave you, trust me.”

“Then don’t,” Ezra whimpered. “You don’t have to leave us.”

Swallowing against the lump in his throat with difficulty, Kanan said, “What I have to do is keep you-- keep everyone safe.” Looking up at Mace, who stood nearby with an unreadable expression on his face, he added, “Sometimes, to protect the people you care about, you have to make sacrifices. This is one of those times.”

Mace’s expression softened slightly, and he nodded. “I’ll stay with you.”

“No,” Kanan said firmly. “You’ve suffered enough at the Empire’s hand, and I need you with everyone else. Besides, the Empire can’t get its hands on more Jedi.”

Reluctantly, Mace nodded as Ezra pulled away from Kanan. Looking at Kanan, he said, “We’re gonna get you back.”

“I expect you to,” Kanan responded, giving him a smile. “I’m proud of you, kid. Keep on fighting, and keep everyone safe for me.”

Looking at the others, he said, “I know you don’t like this. But it’s my choice, and it’s the best move to keep the Rebellion safe. So you need to go now.”

Ahsoka was the first one to move. Stepping forward, she put a hand on Kanan’s shoulder, her gaze compassionate. “May the Force be with you,” she said simply.

Kanan found himself smiling. “And with you,” he said.

Depa was next, and she gave him a soft smile. “I’m proud of you, apprentice,” she said softly. “If this is the path the Force has given you… I’ll admit, I’m hesitant to let you walk it. But I doubt this is the last time we’ll be together.”

“I agree,” Kanan said. “Keep the others safe.”

As Depa moved on, Sabine moved up to him, her expression tight. “I hate this,” she said, her voice flat.

“You’re not the only one,” Kanan admitted. “But this has to happen. Listen-- keep an eye on the others for me, okay? Look out for Ezra.”

Nodding, Sabine said, “Okay. Just-- we’re coming back for you, okay?”

“I’m counting on it,” Kanan said, giving her a grin.

His next goodbyes were to Grey, Styles and Stance, all of whom bid him good luck. Clasping Kanan’s shoulder, Grey said, “Take care of yourself, kid.”

“Take care of my master,” Kanan said, lifting an eyebrow. “And don’t call me kid.”

As Grey moved away from him to Depa’s side, Kanan faced Ezra. Squaring his shoulders, Ezra said, “I won’t say goodbye, because it’s not. We’re gonna come back for you. Just be careful, okay? Don’t make the Empire too mad.”

“Me? Never.” Kanan’s grin faded away, and he said, “I’m proud of you, Ezra.”

“Proud of you, too,” Ezra said, his voice wavering slightly. Taking a deep breath, he said, “May the Force be with you.”

Kanan felt tears in his eyes as he responded, his own voice miraculously steady. “And with you, apprentice.”

With that, Ezra headed onto the Ghost with the others, and Kanan only had two goodbyes left. Hera and Zeb were standing next to each other, and Kanan knew this was going to be hard. But he had to keep it together.

Stepping forward, he opened his mouth, but Zeb beat him to it. “I’m staying,” the Lasat said, his tone brooking no argument.

“What?” Kanan said. “Zeb, no. The only people the Empire hates more than Jedi--”

“Are aliens, especially the ones they’ve tried and failed to wipe out, yeah, I know,” Zeb said, waving a hand dismissively. “But they’ll be coming for you in force, and if you want a real distraction, you’ll need help. So I’m staying. Besides, I told Hera I’d keep an eye on you.”

“Oh, so you’re in on this?” Kanan said, lifting an eyebrow at Hera.

“Humor us, love,” Hera said, folding her arms. “This is hard enough as it is. I want someone with you to watch your back.”

Kanan sighed. “This-- you know what you’re about to walk into,” he told Zeb.

“Yep. So stop warning me about it and finish your goodbyes,” Zeb said. “I’m ready to knock together some Imperial heads.”

Somehow, Kanan felt a smile across his face, and he nodded. “Okay. Give me a minute, though.”

Zeb nodded, and moved just out of earshot, which Kanan appreciated. Turning to Hera, he just looked at her for a moment, drinking her in. “I’m going to miss you,” he said softly.

“Not as much as I’ll miss you.” Hesitating, Hera said, “What if this goes wrong? What if we can’t get back to you, or--”

“Hey.” Kanan moved closer to her, pulling her into a hug. “We’ll see each other again,” he said quietly. “I promise.”

“How can you be so sure?” Hera asked, her voice small.

“Well, there’s a certain question I haven’t actually asked you yet,” Kanan said, and felt Hera stiffen in surprise. “And there’s no way the Empire or Pryce or anyone else can keep me from getting back to you to ask it.”

Hera pulled back, gazing at his face. “I-- Kanan,” she whispered, her expression stunned.

“I won’t ask yet,” Kanan said, running a gentle thumb along her jawline. “But when you bring me home… no promises.” He paused, then added, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Hera said, and Kanan couldn’t resist bending down to steal one last kiss, his lips lingering on hers for only a moment.

But then he stepped back, and she was moving onto the Ghost, and then Hera Syndulla was gone. Kanan watched the ship start to rise in the air, then turned to Zeb. “Are you ready for this?”

“The real question is, is the Empire ready for this?” Zeb shot back, and Kanan couldn’t help but laugh.

He had no idea what would happen next. But he knew he’d have one of his best friends fighting with him, and the rest of his family was safe. Pulling the two pieces of his lightsaber from his belt, Kanan twisted them together. “Let’s go make a mess,” he said.

~ ~ ~

Six months later

Hera felt the Ghost humming underneath her as they made the jump to hyperspace, and she let out a sigh of relief.

It had been a long past six months. Shortly after Hera and the others had escaped from Lothal, thanks to Kanan’s sacrifice, it had been completely blockaded by the Empire, making it all but impossible to get in. They’d done anything they could to get news about Kanan and Zeb, although it had been scarce.

It had taken the Empire weeks to actually catch the two of them. They’d taken out the squad that came to arrest Kanan, and then gone on the run. But eventually, they’d been caught, and transported off of Lothal.

The last months had been long and hard, spent trying to find out where Kanan and Zeb had been taken, all the while working with the Rebellion. They’d found Zeb first-- the two of them had been separated. Zeb had been sent to a prison camp called Wobani. Once there, he’d promptly started a small rebellion with some of the prisoners, including a seventeen-year-old girl named Jyn, an ISB agent named Kallus, and a dark-haired man named Ferus Olin. Who happened to be a Jedi.

When Hera and the others had rescued Zeb and his new friends, they’d asked Ferus if he knew where Kanan might be held. The man’s face had gone dark as he said, “I can only think of one place-- Mustafar. But if your friend is on Mustafar, he’s as good as dead.”

“Not Kanan,” Ezra had told him. “He’s not going anywhere anytime soon. And if he does die, Hera and I will go to the afterlife to forcibly drag him back.”

Unfortunately, they soon discovered that Ferus’s theory had been right. Kanan had been imprisoned on Mustafar by the Inquisitors and the Emperor’s Hand.

So Hera had organized an assault on a stronghold full of Sith. And somehow, impossibly, they’d done it. They’d gotten in, and Ezra and the others had found Kanan and brought him home. And now, with the blue lights of hyperspace flickering through the front viewport, they’d escaped.

Getting up from her seat, Hera glanced at Chopper. “Keep an eye on things up here, Chop.”

Just go find him, Chopper said, and for once Hera didn’t stop to argue with her droid. Turning, she headed out of the cockpit and down towards the cargo bay, where the rescue team had entered the ship.

As she arrived on the balcony area above it, her gaze swept across those below her-- Grey and Depa, who were standing close together, holding hands. Mace, who was talking with Ferus, the scar across his eyes obvious in the light. Zeb, joking with Styles and Kallus, and nearby him Sabine and Ahsoka, standing with their arms crossed and their eyes fixed on the three men in the middle of the room.

Stance had been the team medic for a while now-- apparently he’d learned to take care of Kanan when he came back from one too many missions with injuries. Hence why he was currently arguing with Kanan as Ezra hovered near his master, clearly unwilling to let him get too far away.

“For kriff’s sake, Kanan, will you let me--”

“Not yet,” Kanan snapped, his voice vehement. “I need to talk to--”

“Kanan?” Hera said, and she wasn’t sure why her voice was so soft and shaken. Until Kanan looked up, and then she knew.

He looked terrible. Bruises darkened his skin, and blood stained his clothing here and there. It was clear he hadn’t bathed in a while, nor had he shaved-- his beard had grown considerably fuller and scruffier since she’d last seen him. His hair was long and loose-- but Hera wasn’t looking at any of that. Her gaze was fixed on the somewhat dirty bandage wrapped around his eyes.

She was down the ladder before she knew what was happening, and Kanan moved forward to meet her, his steps uncertain as Ezra gently pushed him in the right direction. His voice, on the other hand, was anything but, as he whispered, “Hera. You’re here.”

“I’m here,” Hera said, gently reaching up and touching his cheek. Kanan leaned into the touch, a half-smile twitching across his face.

“I know. The Empire could never trick me with you. I always knew when it was a fake.” He caught hold of her hand, lacing his fingers through hers, and pressed a kiss against the back. “I’d know your voice anywhere.”

Hera felt tears prickling in her eyes. Keeping her voice steady, she asked, “What happened, love?”

“The Empire likes to make people vulnerable,” Kanan said matter of factly. “So they did that in the best ways they could think of. When none of them worked, they decided to try this.” A somewhat bitter smile twitched across his face. “So I guess I was wrong when I said I’d see you again.”

“You could always see me,” Hera told him, and pulled him into a hug. Kanan wrapped his arms around her, and Hera felt him take in a quick, shuddering breath. “I’m so glad you’re home,” she whispered.

“Me, too,” Kanan said, his voice shaking slightly.

He sounded fragile, off center, hurt, and Hera’s heart ached for him. For what he’d gone through. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to you sooner, love,” she murmured.

Moving hesitantly, Kanan lifted a hand to her face, and bent to press a kiss against her forehead. “It’s okay. I knew you would come, and you did. And I’m back with you again. That’s the important thing.”

Hera knew that wasn’t all, and she knew Kanan was still hurting, from both physical and mental wounds. But that could wait until another day. For now, what he needed was to rest and heal, with his family around him.

“Welcome home, Kanan,” she said.

A soft smile curled Kanan’s mouth. “Glad to be here, Captain Hera.”

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divinityoswin · 3 years ago

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people who can cook without a recipe book scare me

➳ this work is a oneshot

summary: Helmeppo and Tashigi, drinking hot cocoa and wrapping presents together.

characters: Helmeppo, Tashigi.

words: 1527

tags: fluff, secret santa, domestic fluff, mild hurt/comfort.

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this work is dedicated to @marineduo for their @op-secret-santa-2021

you may also find this fic on AO3

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Okay, so maybe taking on a task so gastronomically enormous like this was lower on his list of ingenious plans, but damn it Helmeppo refused to give up. Especially not after the roast Coby had cooked for them the week before.

Yet the kitchen was on fire, the stench of burnt milk - he didn’t even know milk could burn! - wafting through the air, and chocolate powder smeared over his apron.

How the hell did Coby make it look so easy?

Helmeppo screamed in a fit of rage and slammed the tea-towel he was holding over the flames. Another hit, and another, and another, and the fire still wouldn’t go out. Alright, this was beginning to be a problem now. If Garp found out he’d set the kitchen on fire he’d react in one of two ways: either laugh until he couldn’t breath, or hit him with a fist of love. Or both.

Well he certainly wasn’t looking forward to that . Just as he began to plan his daring escape route - really, if he tried hard enough, he could probably live in the jungle - he heard a rush of footsteps and, before he could even turn around to see who would lay their eyes upon his woeful fate, a bucket of cold water was splashed onto him. And onto the fire - now doused and gone.

Helmeppo lifted his drenched hair from his face, squinting his eyes at the newcomer who had saved him.

“Oh. Hey, Tashigi,” he greeted.

Tashigi huffed, placing her hands on her hips. “Is that any way to greet the person who saved your life?”

“It was just a small thing!”

“Your eyebrows are singed.”

He looked at himself in the reflection of her glasses. “They are!”

The pair paused. Silence filled the room, until finally - a snigger. From Helmeppo. One that quickly turned to sobs as he sat down on a kitchen stool, dejected. He vaguely heard Tashigi approach him before he felt her callous hand on his back. The hand of a swordsman, he mused, one that had seen many hardships already. One would expect her hands, being so small, to be delicate, like a pianists'. But no, Tashigi was a marine, and a damn good one at that.

He looked at his own hands - once, they were delicate. Delicate and untouched, not by a father and certainly not by friends. Now they were rough, toughened by training with Coby and Garp. Toughened like he was by what he had faced. He curled his hand into a fist and uncurled it.

"Don't worry, they grow back," Tashigi said, offering up a small smile. Like she'd been in a similar situation before. Knowing how clumsy she was at times, she might've.

"'s not the eyebrows I'm worried about," Helmeppo mumbled. He gestured at the blackened stove and the burnt chocolate that covered it. "I wanted to make something nice for you guys. But I'm useless at cooking."

Tashigi left his side, approaching the stove with caution. A small pout appeared on her lips. " Oh, Helms."

"I never did this back in the East - even when I was reduced to mopping up floors, I got to eat at the cafeteria!" He ran a hand through his hair. "Maybe I should just gi-"

"Is that any way a marine should talk?" Tashigi snapped. She looked very, very crossed with him. But not in a way that made him think she was angry. It was more like - like she was concerned. "Give up? I better never hear those words from your mouth, got that?"

He felt very small under her scolding gaze. "Y-yes ma'am."

Tashigi appeared cross for another moment, before her face broke into a grin. "Glad we straightened that out. And I hope you never call me ma'am again. It makes me feel like an old woman."

“Sorry, ma - ashigi,” Helmepoo stuttered. “I just - I don’t know how to make hot cocoa.” He blushed furiously as the confession dropped out of his mouth. “I wanted to make some for us while we wrapped the presents, but… you saw what happened.”

Tashigi sighed, not out of disappointment or relief, or even pity, but in understanding. “You could’ve told me that earlier.”

“Well, I didn’t want you to do it for me, okay!” Helmeppo snapped. “I just - I’m sick of not knowing how to do the basic stuff!”

He shouldn’t have shouted at her like that. He knew that, and regretted the words the instant they escaped him. But he was tired and like a wounded animal - the wound uglying his pride. This was what he got for trying to be humble. Helmeppo bit back a sob.

“...Helms.”

Tashigi’s voice was quiet.

“Helms!”

She barked his name, and he jumped up. Glancing at her with a guilty look, he found he couldn’t avert his gaze from her.

“I’m going to teach you how to make a cocoa. No mess, no fuss.”

“But -”

“And that’s an order.” She crossed her arms, cocking a brow as if daring him to try to argue back. “We are going to make two cups and we are going to like it.”

He dropped his arms, feeling his shoulders relax. There was no point in talking back; Tashigi had made up her mind.

At least he could learn while he was at it. And - although part of him felt his snobbish pride shrivel up - he quite enjoyed that.

A trip to another kitchen in the base later, successfully hiding from a snooping Garp trying to sniff out his presents, and a narrow incident involving a mop bucket and Tashigi’s glasses, the pair were sipping on their hot chocolates, giggling at each other at the milky moustaches above their lips, savouring the marshmallow taste and the froth - and, of course, the chocolate itself.

He’d had the best experience learning under Tashigi - who knew to be stern with him. That it was best for him to learn through hard work, yet could make him crack a smile with a joke here and there. It was nothing like training under Garp, but then again, these were two completely different things he had to learn. Domestics was never his kind of thing.

When his cup was half-empty, he motioned to the presents they had for the winter solstice. “Any idea what we should start with first?”

“Garp’s,” Tashigi said instantly. “Vice Admiral Smoker would be mad if he found out we prioritised him over Garp.”

Helmeppo didn’t bother commenting that Smoker probably didn’t care.

They picked Garp’s present - a pair of boxing gloves and a belt, along with a jar of homemade honey from a sky island - and wrapped it up in paper adorned with trees and snowflakes. Tashigi, who was worried Helmeppo might not be able to tie a bow properly, tied the bow. She didn’t do a very good job.

Next was Smoker, naturally. Tashigi had gotten him a set of cigars imported from the South Blue, while Helmeppo had no idea what Smoker even liked got him a mango-flavoured cigar. If he ended up on Smoker’s shit list, somehow, he’d blame Coby.

Then came time for Coby himself.

Tashigi peered down at the present, brows raised.

Helmeppo shrugged.

“He told me he likes gardening,” he said, wrapping up the soil and flower seeds. It smelt bad , but who was Helmeppo to judge Coby’s tastes. His friend - a word that still felt foreign to him - could like whatever the hell he wanted to. Helmeppo tied the bow on this box, with curls and all. It looked… nice, surprisingly. That he could make something beautiful and neat with his hands.

They both looked at the final present that they had yet to wrap - a bicycle bell. Small, yet simple. But…

No one had seen Kuzan for weeks. Not since the incident at Punk Hazard. And they certainly weren’t about to give the bell to Borsalino or Sakazuki.

“Mind if I take it?” Helmeppo asked.

Tashigi nodded, her expression melancholic.

He shoved it in his pocket.

The pair sipped their hot cocoa some more, unable to think of what to say.

“So -”

“I was thinking -”

Helmeppo stiffened. “You go first!”

“...I was wondering if you’d like to come to a cooking class with me?” Tashigi asked. “As friends. You know. I just think we should, you know, hang out together more.” She offered him up a smile. “I think you’re fun when you’re not being a snobbish jerk.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled, though his body was soaring metaphorically through the skies. “You’re a teacher, then?”

“Oh, gosh no,” Tashigi said, shaking her head. “I’m awful at cooking. I’m learning how to.”

“But your cocoa -”

“The only thing I know how to make.” Her smile broke into a grin, and she laughed. “I’m a clumsy mess in the kitchen. I don’t measure ingredients properly and - well, my eyes.”

He swallowed, fidgeting with his fingers. “I suppose I could make time for it…”

“Gotcha.” She flicked his nose. “Knew I could get a present for you.”

Blood rose to his cheeks. “Huh?”

“Merry Christmas, Helms.”

The two mugs sat finished on the table - smelling a little burnt, but finished nonetheless.

#OP Secret Santa 2021 #oswin writing #One Piece Fanfiction #secret santa #Helmeppo #Tashigi #One Piece

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swaps55 · 4 years ago

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This Hole You Left (Anderson)

Pairing: mShenko | Tags: Canonical Character Death, Grief

Post-Alchera.

This is a stand-alone scene from a larger work, but I’m very fond of it, so I’m posting it on its own.

Captain David Anderson stares out at the repair crews moving around the Presidium. Here, from the safe retreat of his office, it doesn’t look so bad. Scaffolding covers the damaged bridge. Debris still floats in the lake, turning the serene blue water a murky brown. The air circulators have almost cycled out the smell of soot and burnt alloy, but a trace of it still lingers. If he leans out far enough, the tip of the relay Shepard had barreled through using nothing but an M-35 Mako just four weeks ago is barely visible on his right periphery.

He doesn’t lean. Just as he doesn’t look at the datapad in his hand. Hearing the words come out of Joker’s mouth was enough. Seeing the helmsman’s face was enough. Anderson had remarked once to Shepard that he’d like to be there the day someone wiped the smartass off Joker’s face.

Shepard had snorted. Not me, sir, he’d said. If he gives up the smartass that probably means I’m fucked. I’d prefer my pilot remain an asshole at all times.

Shepard had been right, of course.

Anderson wipes a thumb across the corner of his eye. It’s all right. No one here to see.

They came back around for another pass, Joker had said, in a voice that was dull, dead, about as far a cry as you could get from the insubordinate ass who’d gone off on the stand in Vancouver just two weeks ago. Shepard had to be to blame for that display. Politics had never been his game.

We lost gravity right as he shoved me in the pod. Momentum from the blast…kicked him the wrong way. I didn’t see what happened after the door closed, but I didn’t need to. Drive core implosion doesn’t leave much to the imagination.

Anderson’s fingers grip the datapad harder. No. It doesn’t. That doesn’t stop his mind from filling in the blanks anyway.

All Shepard’s training. All the hell he’d put himself through to earn that N7 designation. There couldn’t have been a person more prepared to live through the Normandy’s destruction. And in the end, the realities of space had still won.

At least it had probably been quick. Probably.

The door to his office hisses open. For a moment, Anderson expects it to be Shepard. It should be Shepard. That son of a bitch has been putting Anderson’s heart in his throat since he was fourteen years old, but he’s never had the audacity to actually die. Hell, the kid had taken a reaper to the face and shrugged it off.

Kid. Shepard hasn’t been a kid in a long time, maybe never really was to begin with. But to Anderson, some part of Shepard would always be that fourteen-year-old with the thousand-watt grin and a glimmer in his eye that usually meant Anderson’s heart was about to leap into his throat. The smile had faded over time, but not that damned glimmer. He’d last seen it right here on the Citadel, when he’d stood up from the table at Flux Casino with plans to steal the Normandy right out from under the Council’s nose. And Anderson had helped him do it.

This can’t be how it ends. It can’t.

A voice speaks up behind him, crisp, formal. “You wanted to see me, sir.”

His expression tightens, but he smooths it out before he turns around. Lieutenant Alenko stands just inside the door to his office, shoulders straight, hands clasped behind his back, chin in the air. Anderson can’t shake the feeling there’s an empty space next to him.

Probably because he’s never seen Alenko without Shepard.

Kaidan Alenko. Damndest thing.

Who do you want on your marine detail? Anderson had asked, after informing Shepard he was being transferred off the Myeongnyang and onto the Normandy.

You’re asking me?

I’m naming you XO. If there’s someone you want, just say the word.

Alenko.

Anderson hadn’t had a chance to blink before the name was out of Shepard��s mouth. Not another N. Not someone from the special ops teams Shepard had run when Anderson could pry him out of Captain Oseguera’s hands. He wanted the biotic from the ‘Yang.

Hackett was the one who’d argued for assigning Alenko to Shepard’s detail five years ago, when the dust from Torfan had finally settled. Anderson had thought it would be a mistake. Alenko’s file showed he could keep up with Shepard, sure. But Alenko embodied the kind of idealism Shepard would chew up and spit out.

If we’re going to put his mind right to get back on the front lines, he needs an anchor, Hackett had replied, with that calm, ice cold demeanor that has won him nearly every argument he’s ever been involved in. Alenko will do the job.

The old man had been right. Shepard didn’t get close to people, and that was before Torfan. But he’d gotten close to Alenko. Hell, Alenko probably deserves most of the credit for bringing Shepard back from the brink. Because after Torfan, Shepard had indeed been on the brink.

Alenko might be the one on the brink, now. There’s a look in his eye that Anderson recognizes, and it isn’t a good one.

“Sit down.”

Alenko shifts his weight. Not the sitting kind, then. Not today. Anderson’s going to take a wild guess that Alenko hasn’t stopped moving since the Marrakesh picked him up.

He sighs and remains standing, giving the lieutenant silent permission to do the same. “I thought you’d like to know we’re working with the elcor to get a salvage team to Alchera. We’re hoping they find the Normandy’s black box data. Be nice to get some clues on what the hell happened out there.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hm. Brick wall is not Alenko’s usual MO, but that’s sure as hell what he’s talking to right now.

“Joker finished his debrief an hour ago,” Anderson goes on. “I assume you’ve heard his version of what happened.”

More shifting. The uncomfortable kind. Shepard’s done it more than a few times in Anderson’s various offices over the years.

“I haven’t, sir.”

Anderson takes a good, long look at him. He’s spent fifteen years worrying about Shepard. It’s never occurred to him to worry about Alenko.

“I see.” He exhales through his nostrils. “The Normandy was attacked by an unknown vessel. Whoever they were, Joker says they came out of nowhere. Shepard got him into the escape pod, but the ship lost gravity. He…well.”

Alenko stares straight ahead, silent. Anderson looks for a tell, but he only knows Shepard’s.

Alenko isn’t Shepard.

If this conversation is going to be one sided, Anderson needs backup. He moves to his desk, fishes a bottle out of a drawer that’s already half empty after being new just yesterday, and pours two glasses. He pushes one of them across the desk. Doesn’t occur to him until after the fact he has no idea if Alenko drinks scotch. It’s just one of the things Anderson and Shepard always agreed on.

“Have it if you want it,” he says, not up for bullying the lieutenant into a drink. “This is off the record.” He swallows half of his in one go, then heads back for the balcony. A few moments later, Alenko joins him, hands empty, still avoiding his gaze. There’s a chip in the brickwork, though. Not much, but something in his eyes wavers.

Yeah. It might be time to worry about Alenko. Losing two ships in the span of four weeks would do a number on anyone.

Except he doesn’t think it’s about either the Myeongnyang or the Normandy.

Anderson leans on the railing, gazing out at the wreckage of the Presidium. He takes another sip from his glass. “I’m sorry. I know he meant a lot to you.”

It takes Alenko so long to answer Anderson thinks he isn’t going to. But then some of the starch fades from his shoulders.

“He did.”

Anderson side eyes him. Had it been Shepard standing next to him, he might press. He could get Shepard to open up if he was careful enough. Sometimes.

But this isn’t Anderson’s business. And his own grief certainly isn’t Alenko’s business. But while most of the galaxy is preparing to mourn Commander Shepard, the soldier standing next to him might be the only person he knows who’s grieving for Sam. He swirls the remaining liquid in his glass.

“He was the most reckless SOB I’ve ever met,” Anderson says, watching a hanar drift along one of the intact pathways below them. “I’m pretty sure half the shit he pulled over the years was just to piss me off.”

Alenko raises an eyebrow ever so slightly in surprise, but doesn’t turn his head. “He’s always at his best when the plan goes to hell.”

“Since he was a kid,” Anderson agrees, not missing the fact that Alenko had referred to him in the present tense. “First time I ever laid eyes on him he was four. He’d wandered away from Daniel on Arcturus and he called in the cavalry to look for him. You know where I found him?”

Alenko shakes his head.

“In a fountain, playing with a model ship. I asked him what the hell his spaceship was doing in the water. He said, ‘I’m about to find out.’”

Alenko’s mouth curves in a brittle smile. “I didn’t know you knew him that young.”

“I doubt he remembered,” Anderson says. “His father and I were good friends. I dropped in on occasion while he was growing up.”

Before Shepard was a soldier. Before he was the Butcher of Torfan or the Savior of the Citadel. Back when he was still Sam, all knees and elbows, so desperate to please he couldn’t sit still.

Anderson still misses that kid.

“He said you kept an eye on him when they shipped him to Ares Station.”

Anderson huffs. “Told you about that, did he.”

Alenko nods, resting his hands on the balcony railing.

Then Shepard had indeed trusted Alenko. Only a handful of people knew about Ares Station and Guthra Tulak. Shepard had been one of five kids sent to biotically train with the krogan, and the only one to realize any potential.

Leave it to the Alliance to come up with a program even riskier than BAaT. Leave it to Hannah Shepard to volunteer her own kid to be part of it. Anderson always wondered if Sam knew about Hannah’s role in Ares, and how hard Daniel fought to keep it from happening.

To Hannah, Sam was a legacy. To the Alliance, he’d been a tool with astronomical potential. Someone had needed to look out for the actual kid. Daniel had tried, but.

Losing Daniel still stings. What would he have thought about his Spectre son?

Hell, Anderson knows exactly what he’d have thought. He would have feared this day, this ending, with every breath he took. He’d wanted anything else for Sam. Anything but this.

And Anderson had helped him become everything Daniel was afraid of. Hell, what choice did he have? You couldn’t dissuade Sam from anything. Once he was target locked on something there was nothing you could do but get as many obstacles out of his way as possible and hope for the best. So that’s what Anderson had done. Mentored him, advocated for him, taken a few hits behind the scenes on his behalf and cleared the path as best he could. Maybe you couldn’t take the target out of Sam’s sights, but you could guide his aim to make sure he hit it dead to rights.

“He’s come a long way since then,” Anderson says, wincing when he realizes now it’s him who can’t let go of the present tense. “I wish I’d been at the inquest. From the secure feed it looked like he put an entire roomful of admirals on their asses. Would love to have seen it in person.”

Alenko stills, expression frozen in place like a mask. Whatever nerve Anderson just touched is a big one, so he steers the conversation in a new direction.

“Though what I really wish I could have seen is what he found to gripe about being stuck in atmosphere. The entire time he was in Rio for ICT, he never once complained about the work. Wouldn’t shut up about how much he hated humidity.”

The fragile smile returns. “He hated going down a well without a hardsuit.”

“Know what almost kept him from qualifying for N1?”

Alenko shakes his head.

“Bugs,” Anderson tells him. “Not twenty-hour days, not hostile terrain, not crawling around in the mud without food or sleep. It was the bugs that damn near washed him out.”

A laugh escapes the lieutenant. It’s a rusty sound. “That…doesn’t surprise me.”

Anderson smiles at the memory. “He got over it. Made it through, like he always did. Wish I’d told him more how…proud I was.”

“You meant a lot to him,” Alenko says, so quietly Anderson almost doesn’t hear him.

The lump that forms in Anderson’s throat takes him off guard. “He had a way of affecting everyone he ever met. I forget sometimes it could go the other way. He made it so easy to think he was fine on his own.”

“He wasn’t.”

Alenko’s stare remains fixed on the view from the balcony. Not many people saw the side of Shepard that needed anyone. Even Anderson only saw it on occasion. Alenko was so far from the kind of person Shepard would let his guard down in front of, but clearly he had.

If we’re going to put his mind right to get back on the front lines, he needs an anchor, Hackett had said. Alenko had done the job, all right.

Problem was, it looks like that had gone both ways.

Anderson draws in a breath. Might as well get this over with. “I called you here to ask if you would speak at the memorial.”

It’s going to be a spectacle, the likes of which Sam would have hated, but the Alliance sure as hell isn’t going to be denied their PR opportunity.

Alenko shifts his weight. He’s so damn still. Shepard would be pacing the room until Anderson wanted to strangle him.

“Is that an order, sir?”

“A request.”

“Then I respectfully decline.”

Anderson finishes his drink. “Can I ask why?”

Alenko’s grip on the railing tightens. “The Alliance cares about the symbol. I cared about the person. I can’t give them what they want.”

Anderson can’t help but wonder what the lieutenant would have to say. Shepard was so many different things to so many different people. What, exactly, was he to Kaidan Alenko?

Why Alenko? Anderson had asked Shepard back on Arcturus, the Normandy’s hull gleaming and new out the shutters.

Shepard had thought a long time before answering, like there was too much to say and not enough words to say it.

Because he grounds me.

The older Shepard had gotten, the rarer it was to get glimpses of Sam. Sometimes Anderson wondered if Sam still existed, or if he’d been swallowed up by the mantle everyone demanded he carry. But that answer had come from Sam.

“Ok,” Anderson tells Alenko. “I’ll hand it off to Hackett.”

“Why not you?” Alenko asks, looking in his direction for the first time.

Anderson gazes down at his empty glass. Twenty years ago he might have thrown it against the wall just to watch it shatter. Nowadays he thinks too hard about the mess it would make, and being the one who has to clean it up. “Because I cared about the person.”

Heavy silence settles between them.

“You should take some leave,” Anderson says. “You’ve more than earned it.”

“I’m fine,” Alenko replies, but that haunted look is back.

Soon enough you’re going to have to stop moving, son, Anderson thinks. After Torfan, Shepard had hit the same wall Alenko is cruising right towards. But Alenko isn’t Shepard, and he isn’t under his command anymore. All he can do is give him a hand if he asks for it, and from the looks of it he isn’t going to ask.

Not that it would matter. Anderson’s got no anchor to give him that could replace the one he lost.

“Just think about it. And get some sleep.” He gestures towards the door, freeing the lieutenant from further torture. While Alenko makes for the exit, Anderson heads for his desk and the untouched glass. No sense in letting it go to waste.

Alenko pauses at the doorway and looks back over his shoulder. “Rain.”

“I’m sorry?” Anderson asks with a frown.

“You wanted to know what he found to gripe about on Earth. It was the rain.” He looks away without waiting for a response and walks away.

That empty space Anderson thought he’d been imagining when Alenko walked in feels even larger, now. Yeah. Shepard sure knows how to leave a hole in people.

#mshenko #kaidan alenko #mass effect #david anderson #trilogyappreciationweek #me legendary countdown #my fic

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otonymous · 5 years ago

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A Bolt From The Blue (MLQC Shaw - NSFW) - Part IV (End): Courage, My Love

Description: The final chapter. The Big Bang 😉 Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language & mature themes — reader discretion is advised. Potential trigger warnings: physically aggressive behaviour, ex-boyfriends, angst, size kink, profanity, vaginal fingering and intercourse Word Count: 4237 words (~21 mins of thrills, real talk, fluff and smut) Author’s Notes: To all the lovelies who have been patiently following this story: you’ve made it! 🥳 Welcome to the final chapter in this Shaw saga, where we aim to go out with a massive bang (pun intended 😆). Once again, thank you all for every like, reblog, and comment I’ve received on this story. You are all amazing, and I appreciate your support! 💕

As always, tagging the lovely @op-peccatori — I hope you enjoyed this story! I certainly had lots of fun writing this! Please note the potential trigger warnings listed above, dear readers, and happy reading!

Jump to Chapter(s): One | Two | Three

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The quiet is back.

But there is no peace, no relief in the monotony that follows after the man known as Shaw burst into your life like a bolt from the blue, stirring up long forgotten feelings like dead leaves animated by a carefree wind — here one minute, gone the next.

And with each passing day, hope erodes.

Little by little, your heart learns not to race as the clock above the magazine rack approaches 1:30.

It becomes harder to remember the sound purple sneakers made walking through the store.

You stop hoping, wishing, to see a head of lavender hair; that the next person to approach the register would place a cup of Pepsi mixed with Coke on the counter, amber-eyed gaze speaking volumes without uttering a single word.

Days become weeks, and then eventually…

…you stop counting them altogether.

* * *

“You’re looking good. I see you’re doing well for yourself.”

He reaches for the jade pendant hanging around your neck, eyes flashing with amusement when you hit his hand away with an audible smack.

“What the hell do you want? Haven’t you already done enough?” You say through grit teeth, steps quickening as you head for the better lit part of the street, trying to outpace the man and silently cursing the fact that returning to the convenience store was no longer an option at this point.

“C’mon baby, don’t be like that. It took a lot of effort to track you down and I waited a very long time for you to get off work. It’s cold, dark and lonely out here. Is that any way to treat your boyfriend? Or friend, at least?”

“ ‘Ex-boyfriend,’ asshole, and you’re no friend of mine, especially not after the way you took my life’s savings and ran.”

“Baby, it wasn’t like that—”

“Oh yeah?! Did you try telling that to the loan sharks too before they came and trashed my place? I had to move, Leto, because it wasn’t safe for me anymore, not with the way they kept harassing me and the neighbours asking about your whereabouts. They even came to my office. I lost my fucking job. So don’t come around here and tell me that I’m doing well for myself.”

Breaking into a sprint, your mind races as you try to think of a way to lose your ex, anger and anxiety prickling every nerve in equal measure. He had ruined your life, singlehandedly taken away everything you had. And though you had known him once, desperation has a way of making monsters out of men.

And right now, for all you knew, he was desperate and dangerous.

“Please, I just want to talk. I don’t need much this time, just a little bit to get me through this rough patch. I’ll pay you back, I swear, just…just STOP FOR A MOMENT!—”

You shriek to feel Leto wrap his hand about your wrist, but before he could tighten his grip, another arm is thrown around your shoulder, pulling you back until you’re pressed up against a hard, muscular chest, staring at a close up of Snoopy riding a skateboard.

“You got business with my girl?”

That voice. Dangerous and cocksure, yet comforting like nothing else as the muffled words reverberate through the tiny bones of your ear, a prelude to the soothing ba-bump of his heart, rhythm steady and concrete as the ground upon which you stood.

Shaw.

He’s really here.

“Hehe. Your girl?” The derision in Leto’s voice makes you sick to your stomach; you can’t help but hold your breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop as he looks Shaw up and down, zeroing in on his old t-shirt. “Tsk, tsk. So, not only do you enjoy wearing second hand clothing, you also have the habit of picking up sloppy seconds?”

BOOM!

Deafening thunder rolls moments after a bolt of lightning rends the night sky in two, throwing a jagged spotlight on the fury written on Shaw’s face when he moves just as fast to grab a fistful of Leto’s collar. The muscles of his forearm bulge as he holds up the entirety of Leto’s bodyweight in one hand, the sky opening in a sudden downpour as your ex struggles in midair, rain dripping almost comically from dangling feet.

And when Shaw brings Leto’s terrified face up close, the ferocity in those amber eyes sends a chill up your spine.

“This is the last time you’ll ever talk to her, see her, even think about her. Or else I’ll find you and take my sweet time making you wish you were never born, do you understand me?”

Head bobbing in vigorous nods, drops of water fly off the tips of Leto’s rain-slicked hair. Seemingly satisfied, Shaw tosses him onto the ground at your feet, voice low yet audible as it cuts through the din of the storm when he says, “Beg for her forgiveness.”

The fear in his expression almost palpable, Leto looks between you and Shaw — cowardice etched onto features you had once found so pleasing a lifetime ago. He prostrates himself onto the wet pavement, voice cracking in between sobs as he yells over the sound of the rain:

“P-please…please forgive me! I’m a piece of shit! I’m nothing, I’m garbage! I…I deserve to go to Hell for what I did to you! I-I’m so sorry! Please forgive me!”

Leto reaches out a shaky hand towards your soaked shoes before he remembers Shaw’s warning, but it is too late. Black combat boots hit the concrete hard within an inch of Leto’s face as Shaw stoops, yanking back a fistful of hair and pulling until your ex is looking up at you like a pitiful supplicant begging for mercy.

“Satisfied?” Shaw looks to you as if he were asking about something as mundane as the weather. You nod, suddenly too tired to even speak. You wanted to wash your hands of Leto, wanted nothing to do with all that had happened since you finished your shift at the convenience store. All you could do was watch as Leto scrambled away on all fours the moment Shaw loosened his hold, running until he was nothing more than a speck of darkness merging with the night.

The rain is cold, wetness driving against your body to leech even the final bits of warmth from bone. Your clothes are drenched, heavy as they cling uncomfortably to skin. But you are too drained to care, lacking the energy to even notice when the dim light of the streetlamp above is blotted out — Shaw holding his leather jacket over your head in the place of an umbrella.

All you are aware of before your vision goes dark is the anxiety in his voice when he calls your name over and over again, how weightless it felt to be carried in the cradle of his arms.

How much you missed the scent you thought you had learned to forget.

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“Finally awake, Sleeping Beauty?”

You opened your eyes to gaze into irises of warm amber, the situation similar to one you experienced before except for the fact that this time, you were the one lying in bed, staring at a man who sat on its edge, brows knit with concern beneath soft lavender strands.

“If you slept for any longer, I would’ve had to knock on your neighbour’s door.” Shaw chuckles but the sound is hollow, mirthlessness obvious like the blanched knuckles of his tightly clenched fists.

“What…how did we…” You begin, voice raspy as it dies, a sudden sharp pain in your throat making you wince.

And immediately, Shaw is on his feet, rummaging through cupboards in your kitchen until he finds a glass. You watch him run the tap, fill it to the brim. Feel the strength of his arm around your back as he holds you up, touch lingering even as you down the water in gulps to chase the discomfort away.

“You passed out not long after your douchebag of an ex ran off with his tail between his legs. I found your keys in your purse, so I let myself into your apartment — hope you don’t mind. Although, to be fair, I was also carrying you at the time, so it’s not really breaking and entering.”

Head feeling like it would explode as the events of the evening come rushing back, you turn towards him…slowly…slowly, afraid Shaw might disappear before your eyes should any movement prove too sudden.

Thank him. Now. Before he goes away again.

He is close, so close that you can count those long, beautiful lashes; almost feel the minuscule shifts in the air between you every time he blinks — those pupils encroaching onto gold as they expand and pulling you into their depths as they do.

“Why are you doing this?”

He doesn’t flinch at your question, and you can’t bring yourself to be shocked by the discrepancy between what you meant to say and the words actually spilling from your lips. And as the grey memory of days spent counting the hours of his absence settles like lead in the pit of your stomach, the only thing you knew was that your heart couldn’t survive latching onto this sliver of hope only to have it ripped away again.

All you wanted…was the truth.

“Because I can’t stand to see you sad anymore.”

There is no smirk to stretch across that handsome face, only pain that hurts your heart to see it. Resignation heavy in his voice, Shaw takes a deep breath before he continues.

“Turns out I’m weak when it comes to you. Selfish. I know I’m no good for you; there’s no future with me. I can’t give you anything, can’t even promise you tomorrow, but…I just can’t stop thinking about you. Wondering how you are. Whether you’re eating well, sleeping well. If you’re safe…happy.

“Tonight wasn’t supposed to happen. I just wanted to make sure you got home okay, that some asshole wasn’t going to hassle you at work. But then your ex showed up and when he tried to get fresh with you, well…I couldn’t let that slide.

“Listen, I don’t know what’s wrong with me but…I’m sorry, if I ever made you sad, if I scared you. I’m sorry for everything.”

His gaze drops to the rip in his jeans, the drip, drip of the leaky faucet the only sound in the ensuing silence of his confession. That is, until you say,

“I’m sorry too…that you’re such an idiot.”

His head whips up, brows furrowed and mouth slack as if caught in a rare moment of speechlessness. The shock makes him seem years younger, lending him an air of innocence that you couldn’t help but smile at.

“In case it wasn’t obvious, I’m a grown woman, capable of making my own decisions. I’m not so naïve that I don’t know what I would be getting into by being with you. You say you can’t promise me tomorrow, but tomorrow isn’t promised to anyone. All we can ask for — hope for — is the here and now.

“Love takes courage, as does life. But a life without love…it’s not much of a life, is it? So I’m willing to be brave if that’s what it’ll take for us to be together.”

As quickly as they came, the words are gone, leaving you cotton-mouthed and faint as your heart pounds to send the blood rushing to your ears. That could’ve been the only explanation as to why Shaw’s “I knew there was a reason why I loved you” sounded so muffled you had to ask him to repeat himself.

“Too bad, I only say things once.”

And there it is again: the spark in his eyes, smirk on those lips — igniting the fire you only allowed yourself to feel in dreams of his body on yours, skin to skin like kindling to flame.

“Are you that single-minded about everything?” You ask, the smile on your face mirroring his as it approaches closer…

“Only when it comes to not letting go of the one I care about.”

…closer…

“Tell me one thing.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

…and closer still.

Lips now a hair’s breadth apart, the gentle rhythm of his exhalation blows soft upon your cupid’s bow; a shy request. Your vision is filled with him, wonderfully awash with colour — lavender, amber, the soft pink of his mouth — and you wished you were the very clothes upon his body; saturated in his intensity, dyed in his hues.

His eyes fixate on your tongue when you wet your lips before asking, “That night, when you were hurt so badly you passed out in my store…why did you still insist on coming in?”

Shaw’s breath catches, hitching in his throat. You know because you can feel it, the way the warmth stops short on your skin. And when he speaks, the eyes that hold yours tell you this is no lie.

“Because if it was going to be the last night of my life, I didn’t want to go without seeing your face one more time.”

Love is a funny thing. Formless, senseless, yet the strongest thing that could bind two strangers. You hadn’t known Shaw for long, could count the days you spent together on one hand. And still, entirely without reason, he bled into each and every hour, crept into the darkest corners of your mind to fill your weary heart with a desperation that made it very clear that love was far from done with you.

That right or wrong, the only place you wanted to be was here — held in the arms that wrapped around your body: hot, tight, safe…

…Shaw.

His lips are softer than you ever imagined when he brings his face to yours, plush silk gliding corner to corner to cover your mouth in reverent kisses — one for each night he came into your store, watched over you from afar.

Your stalwart protector.

You tasted it now, the remnants of cinnamon on his tongue from the gum he was so fond of chewing, intensified by the memory of all the times you wondered about its flavour: pink bubbles popping in his mouth as he coolly dealt with the robber, the night you emptied his pockets as your neighbour stitched him up on your bed.

Shaw tasted sweet. Far sweeter than you ever imagined.

And when his tongue slides against yours — slow and sure as it explores your mouth with increasing fervour before drawing back just as you clenched around emptiness, yearning for more, the beast within you refuses to abide.

You like the shock that passes over his face when you move, sudden and forceful, to push him onto the mattress beneath you; the artless way Shaw sinks teeth into his bottom lip in response. You like how he watches as you straddle his hips — gaze earnest and body honest, hardening as you grind undulating circles upon his groin.

But, perhaps most of all, you liked the spark of something wild in those amber eyes, an unpredictability warning that if you weren’t careful, you’d be the one to find yourself pinned to the bed.

Because wasn’t that ultimately the push-and-pull that characterized so much between you and him? Maddening at times, but always, always binding you to Shaw like some red string of fate.

So you nod when he whispers “May I?”, unable to suppress a moan to finally feel his hands on you: tracing along your jaw, cradling your face…resting the pad of his finger on your lip before pushing past to stroke your tongue.

Every sound he makes pleases; the soft hiss preceding the bob of his Adam’s apple to feel your lips pucker around his finger to suck, pink tongue enticing as it swirls along the length of that digit, drawing it deeper into the hot wetness of your mouth.

You never saw yourself as seductive before, but Shaw made you feel sexy. Perhaps the impulse stemmed from some primitive desire, an instinctive call to please the man you felt so profoundly for that shame was the farthest thing from your mind when you pulled his hand from your lips to guide it to your breast, only partially aware of how wet you were becoming from his gaze alone — half-lidded and heavy with lust.

The heat of his touch permeates your blouse, white and transparent still in patches from the rain. You watch his hands as they play: cupping your breasts in a gentle squeeze, thumbs and forefingers catching your nipples to pinch and roll until they stood stiff against the drape of your clothing, the flush of your flesh bold through fabric.

“You’re so beautiful that there are times I think you can’t possibly be real.”

His voice is low, husky. You let it wash over you, almost frightened by how stupidly happy you become, willing the magic to linger even as his words dissipate amongst the sounds of the night: neon buzzing and the faraway screams of sirens in the distance.

A world apart.

Your hands find the broad expanse of his chest, tracing along muscle before circling the nipples that stood erect against his damp t-shirt. Each twitch is endearing, every erratic breath he draws to feel your touch making you fall harder. And when he tries to focus on unbuttoning your blouse while fighting the impulse to tear it clean off your body, the stirring between your legs grows in intensity until he finally pulls the silken panels aside, a quiet gasp escaping his lips to see his necklace nestled between your breasts.

“It really does belong on you.”

The admiration in his tone is laced with a hint of possessiveness that makes you throb. Shaw pushes himself to sitting, gathering you onto his lap in one smooth motion as he buries his face in your chest, inhaling deep. You gasp to feel gentle teeth sink into the flesh of your breasts, Shaw following the chain of precious metal with his lips until it leads to the pendant. And when his tongue slips out to draw the piece of jade into his mouth, he brings your nipple along with it.

“Oh!…”

The sensation is unlike any you’ve known before, the soft wetness of his pliant tongue a searing contrast with the cool, smooth stone rubbing against the sensitive tip of your breast in equal measure. You feel his smile on your skin when you fist your hands into lavender hair, spine curving as your legs begin to tremble.

And he had yet to touch you below the waist.

“Your body responds so well to me. I knew you were a good girl.” He looks up at you, teasing shamelessly even as he continues to lavish attention on your breasts.

“Just your girl, if you’ll have me,” you say without second thought, long past the point of caring to keep your cards close to your chest.

Something breaks in that expression, the final walls crumbling like dust when Shaw blinks once…twice, revealing eyes that shine with emotion when he replies, “For the rest of my life, if you’ll have me.”

* * *

“Hmm!—”

Your moan is muffled, swallowed by Shaw’s greedy lips like he does with every sound of ecstasy that leaks like you do around his cock, buried impossibly deep in your body as it rocks back and forth, back and forth on his muscular thighs…

…doing your best to adjust to his ample size.

He had barely suppressed a chuckle when you first slipped your hand into his jeans, a subtle mix of pride and amusement on his face to see your eyes widen when you couldn’t quite wrap palm and fingers around the entirety of his girth.

And foreplay had only just begun.

“Still doing okay?” Shaw asks, touch tender as he brushes loose strands of hair from your eyes, lips smoothing along the apple of your cheek to feel its pink heat. “We can go as slow as you want, there’s no rush. If it’s too much, we can stop—”

“No! No…I’m okay. More than okay, I’m great. Please…please don’t stop…don’t stop…”

Struggling to string words together, your breath comes in disjointed pants as Shaw begin to thrust up — the look on his face effortlessly sensual when he bites his lip to feel you spasm around him, tight wetness yielding in increments to accommodate his body as it broke new ground.

For you had never taken a man of that size, the litheness of Shaw’s muscular body belying the impressive package he’d been hiding in those jeans. Your jaw ached just to look upon the length of that thick cock, mouth watering as a fresh wave of arousal made you press your thighs tighter together. The movement didn’t go unnoticed. Shaw had drawn you to him then — deft fingers dipping low to trace the outline of your swollen folds through moist panties, lavender head bending to kiss its lacy trim.

He took his time preparing you, licking his fingers before he eased them into your pussy — first one, then two…curling deep until the slippery sounds of arousal told him the time was ripe to introduce the third, leaving you blooming for him even as he whispered, “Think you’re ready for me to make you my girl for real?”

It borders on overwhelming, this sensation of fullness — between your legs, within your heart. And as skin stretched to capacity to accommodate the sweet friction of his slide, you wished there was a way for the euphoria of this connection to last forever:

To the one you could never forget, no matter how hard you tried.

To this man you loved like no other.

“Shaw.”

His name is faint on your breath when he falls back onto the bed, taking you with him. And as you found yourself straddling his hips once more, the altered angles of your bodies gave him the leverage to make you gasp when he begins to thrust in earnest. The eroticism of his face, lost in lust, drives all thoughts from your mind as you drop a hand to your clit, fingers drawing tight circles before his hungry eyes.

The violence of your climax takes you by surprise, having no time to consider neighbours and thin walls as the lewdest sounds escape your lips at high volume. Intense convulsions wracking your body in waves, you clench in time around your lover. The sensation proves too much to bear, drawing out Shaw’s own release as he pulls out to spill onto the folds of your pussy — swollen and pink and trembling still beneath the coat of his pearlescent seed.

* * *

“I love you.”

Morning light trickles across your walls like the slow crawl of spidery legs. Shaw’s words hang in the air between you, a final, sacred moment shared between lovers before the rest of the world wakes.

You loved the hoarseness in his voice; a testament to the hours of noisy lovemaking you had shared in lieu of sleep.

You loved the weight of his hand, stroking softly at the crown of your head.

You loved the rhythm of his heart, echoing just below your ear to confirm his existence.

“I love you too.”

You look up into those amber eyes, trying to discern whether those four little words were sufficient in conveying that fact that you adored every fibre of the man before you.

The smile that graces his face in return is tender, honest…more brilliant than the day breaking in the East.

Your hands find his body, bare beneath the sheets. And as a curious finger traces along the ridge of the scar that runs in a broad stroke across his sculpted abdomen, your gaze falls on his t-shirt, draped over the back of a chair.

“You should probably throw that Snoopy shirt away, especially after what happened last night.”

Shaw follows your line of sight, chest rising and falling in a deep sigh. “Shitty as its previous owner was, I could never bring myself to hate something that reminds me of you. Aside from saving my ass, this was the first gift you ever gave me. And I never throw away gifts from my girl.”

His girl.

The mystery of life is that filled with unknowns though it is, we continue to live, brave in the face of the uncertainty that comes with every passing day. You had no idea what fate had in store for you or Shaw, had no way of knowing if your relationship existed on borrowed time.

The only thing you were certain of was that your feelings for each other were real, that try as you might, neither of you were very good at forgetting the other. That in this moment, here and now, the only thing that mattered was this love that hit you…

…like a bolt from the blue.

Thanks so much for reading! I hope you all enjoyed this Shaw saga! 💖

Check out more of my work here! 📚 (Please do not repost/copy/alter my work. Reblogs, on the other hand, are perfectly fine and much appreciated! 💖👍🏼)

Jump to Chapter(s): One | Two | Three

#mlqc #mr love queen's choice #love and producer #mr love dream date #evol x love #mlqc shaw #mlqc ling xiao #mlqc smut #mlqc shaw smut #mlqc fanfic #mlqc fic #fanfiction #my writing #elex

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missskzbiased · 4 years ago

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I Hate That I’m Afraid to Love You (12)

Genre: Romance, Friendship, Angst, Hurt /Confort , Suggestive, Fluff, College Au, Enemies to Friends to Lovers Au, REALLY Slow burn, Love Square (?)

Pairing: Hyunjin X Fem!Reader X Han X OC

WC: ~ 7,1K

[Previous] [Chap] [Next]

Masterlist

Notes: It’s on Hyunjin’s POV, so You is actually him here lol

A little bit earlier just because I want to. I think you guys will like this one because Hyunjin is kinda horny here. “kinda”. He’s horny. But anyway. Wish you a good read~

Warnings (general*): Language, Mentions of (Physical abuse, Death/ Loss of Loved One, Child Abandonment/Neglect, Divorce, Toxic Parents, Cancer, Mental disorder, Anxiety Attack, Alcohol, Food), Suggestiveness

Updates: Tuesdays

Tagging: @aliceu @thatrandomoneinthecorner @channiewoo @bythesunnotbythemoon

////

HYUNJIN’S POV

Y/N was the clingy drunk.

You would never imagine that Y/N would show up unannounced at your home around… Ten? Maybe 11 PM? But the scene you had on the other side of your eye door was clear: She was gloomy and devasted, head lowered and bag being held tight to her chest. You had opened the door knowing you would regret this. The regret you would have by letting her alone outside would be way worse, though, so you let her in.

“Chan isn’t home” Was the first thing you said as you stepped aside. You expected an upset retort, maybe even a teasing one, but what you got in return was her head lifting, eyes locking with yours.

She had been crying.

You had plenty of experience with crying girls ─ not that it was something to brag about ─ but you never had a friend crying right in front of you. As a good friend and human, you stood there with your mouth agape, without a clue of what to do. She averted her eyes, embarrassed by your reaction, and muttered a “Can I come in?” so small that it could almost break your heart.

What the fuck had happened?

You gestured for her to come in, eagerly, watching as she dragged herself, kind of curled up as if she was trying to hide from the world. You had seen Y/N mad, happy, annoyed, embarrassed… You had never seen her broken like this. You decided not to ask much, and she made her way to your kitchen, picking up all the alcohol that had been left there from your “party” on Friday.

If you knew any better, you would have stopped her sooner.

Now was a little bit too late for that as she squeezed your thigh for the tenth time that night, body leaning to your side as she rested her head on your shoulder. She rambled about something you couldn’t make sense, complaining about how she couldn’t understand how everyone was so messed up around her.

As far as you figured, she fought with someone.

Maybe more people.

It could also be about a baby or a small animal? Really, you weren’t following it anymore.

“… And you were right!” She hiccupped. It could also be a laugh. Maybe a sob? You looked at her blankly, not expecting to understand anything by now, just too lost to keep trying to get what she was saying “Congrats!” She giggled, throwing her hands up.

“Thanks” You answered anyway, patting her back. She chuckled again ─ slapping you lightly as if you had said a great joke ─ before she resumed crying, covering her eyes with her hands as her body jolted with her hiccups. You widened your eyes, startled at the roller coaster of emotions she was riding for the night, adjusting yourself so you could sit with your full body turned to her, cross-legged on the couch.

She mumbled something confusing, and you held her shoulders firmly so she would look at you. She didn’t, so you shook her body gently, and this was enough to make her take her hands away from her eyes and look at you inquisitively.

“That’s okay… Everything is going to be okay” You assured her, even though you didn’t know what the hell you were reassuring her about. She didn’t seem to buy your words (and you couldn’t really blame her for this), pouting to hold back her tears. Her lips quivered, brows knotting as her eyes glittered with her tearing up. Oh boy…

“They hate me” She stated sorrowfully. The first statement you could understand. And it was enough to fuel you with new hope of being able to help her somehow. You tightened your grip on her shoulders, inviting her to look at your eyes, which she did, and you locked your gaze with hers with the most serious feature you could gather.

“Of course they don’t” Who were they? It didn’t really matter. You maintained your gaze stern enough for her to believe your words, and finally, she sobbed, nodding in understanding. You let out a relieved sigh, letting go of her shoulders “It’s all good now, okay? Tomorrow morning we can talk to them and everything will be fine” You promised.

She wouldn’t even remember what you said by tomorrow morning.

“How did you know?” She asked sadly, looking into your eyes like a lost puppy. That was a great question because you didn’t have any idea of what you were supposed to know at this point. So you arched your brows, looking like a deer in headlights, stuttering to get your words out.

“W-Well, wasn’t it obvious?” You offered, uncertain, and she seemed to buy it, sighing in disappointment. She nodded, shrugging right after, the pout never leaving her lips. You fought back the urge to sigh in relief, settling for exhaling slowly, afraid she would realize you didn’t know what was going on.

She stared at you for a few seconds, blinking repeatedly, deadpanned.

You just wished she was drunk enough to not realize your obliviousness.

“Thank you…” She muttered, kneeling on the couch. You looked at her confused, the frown you had dissolved quickly into a startled ─more to desperate, really─ expression when she put her hands on your chest, close to your shoulders, supporting herself. You gulped down as she leaned closer, knee coming to the gap between your shin and your crotch, brushing slightly against your lower half.

Not that you particularly noticed it.

Because you didn’t. Really.

“You’re a great friend” She giggled, hands sliding from your chest to entangle your neck, pulling you into a hug.

You couldn’t point out what it was exactly.

Maybe it was her arms involving your neck, fingers playing with your hair. Maybe it was the drowsy smile she threw your way, too soft to your heart. Maybe it was the way she rested her head on your shoulder, facing the crook of your neck. Maybe it was her hot breath fanning over your skin, making you shiver.

Maybe it was her knee brushing against your dick.

Yeah, it was definitely her knee brushing against your dick.

But you felt something in the pit of your stomach.

You swallowed dry, slowly leaning back in a vain attempt to get some space but she just came along with you, resting her body on top of yours as you trapped yourself under her weight. Well, of course, lay back couldn’t be a good idea for the moment. She tightened her grip around your neck, adjusting herself on your lap to be more comfortable.

The issue was that her being comfortable meant her legs on each side of your body.

Her legs on each side of your body meant she was straddling you.

Oh, dear God, if you really exist—

You couldn’t even finish your thought as she moved her head, lips too close to your earlobe. You inhaled sharply, holding your breath and shutting your eyes as you clenched your jaw. She hummed, satisfied at her positioning, exhaling a hot breath right over your ear. You could feel her warmth emanating, consuming your body in each inch of skin in contact.

“Hm… Y/N?” You risked in a string of voice, opening your eyes slowly to fix them on the ceiling. She hummed against your neck and her breath was starting to get to your head. You wouldn’t say which one “What about we go sleep, hm? Sounds nice?” You offered as if you were talking to a child. She whined, displeased by your suggestion. Apparently, she was way too comfortable on your lap.

You swallowed dry again, closing your eyes slowly as you felt her changing her position once again. Why, Lord, couldn’t she find a damn good position and stop grinding against your dick? That was a poor choice of thoughts. As soon as you let your mind wander down there, you held back a whine, throwing your head back to pray for mercy as you got more conscious about what was happening to your body by the second.

It was impossible not to feel the blood rushing down, hardening your dick against your will. At the same time, the blood seemed to rush up, making you all flustered, even if she was too drunk to notice it now. She didn’t seem to mind your bulge ─she probably wasn’t even paying attention to it─, and some sick part of your mind wished for a split of a second that she could just sober up out of nowhere and mind it.

Maybe mind it enough to the point of helping you out.

Nop! You didn’t just think this.

Okay, Okay Okay.

Cool, Cool, Cool.

You definitely shouldn’t be thinking like this! You should be gathering all your strength and willpower to push her away from you. That was what you were supposed to be doing right now. But what if she started crying again? Or maybe even worse! What if she just decided to do something else? Like keep moving nonstop… She was clingy as fuck right now.

Another poor choice of thoughts.

You definitely didn’t let your mind wander around the mere mention of the word fuck. Not at all. Especially because she’s your friend now. Do you remember this? Friends? Like just friends? You were sure the word friend stood up for that one you’re not allowed to fuck. In Latin. Or whatever. Whichever language stated this, it was right. That was the exact reason why you were in peace right now. The non fucking friend peaceful state. Totally fine and unfuckable. Like friends.

Cool.

Fine.

Perfectly unaware of grinding bodies and their effects on your lower half.

Please, God, let me out of here.

As if on cue, you heard the door being unlocked. You threw your head back to watch it, ready to beg Chan for his help. She didn’t move an inch, staying attached to you like a koala. Chan opened the door, locking it behind him before turning around to really look at the couch. He flinched, staring blankly at you before amusement filled his eyes by the second.

“Please help me out” You pleaded, making the best puppy eyes you could handle to do. He made his way to the TV, standing in front of there before looking for something in his pockets. When you saw his phone in his hands, you let out a whine, glaring at him as you silently asked for mercy.

“There’s no way I’ll let this chance slide” He shrugged you off, and you just knew he had taken those photos. Great. Would you ever live it down? Chan’s voice seemed to awaken something inside Y/N’s head, so she adjusted herself once more, lifting her torso a little bit to look at her friend with a drowsy smile.

The slow movement demanded some weight shifting, and, of course, she shifted it all to your lap. You groaned, hand going to rub your face, refusing to look at Chan right now. She laid down again on your chest, giving up on being friendly and settling for being sleepy. Lord, couldn’t she just decide what she was going to do?

“You don’t seem too bothered by it” Chan teased, a smirk on his face and an arched eyebrow made it clear he didn’t intend to help you out right now “I would even risk saying that you’re enjoying quite a bit” He added, and it was impossible to bear his smugness.

“Look, I have a hot chick up on me right now… Can you really blame me? Also, she’s your friend! You should be concerned and helping her out, okay? I’m your friend too! You could give me a hand!” You complained, and you knew you screwed up when his smirk morphed into a grin.

“Oh? A hot chick?” He teased, and you closed your eyes in regret.

“I mean a chick” You corrected but it was too late.

“Yeah, but a hot one” His voice dripped with a knowing tone that made you open your eyes again, looking at him in defeat.

“No, just a chick… Listen, can’t you give me a hand?” You cried, looking expectantly at him. Chan seemed to wonder, hand going to cup his chin as if he was in deep thought, eyes narrowing before fixing on you in a silent mockery.

“Sorry, I don’t really like boys” He apologized obnoxiously. You could punch his face right now. Was this the guy you wanted to keep being friends with and fought over with Y/N for? Great deal! “So I can’t really give you a hand… You’ll have to deal with it for yourself” He sighed in mock guilty, making your blood boil. You clicked your tongue before grimacing at him, hands trailing to Y/N’s hips, getting his attention, sharp eyes fixing on your hands like a hawk.

�� “You know what? I may have to get off…” You agreed, voice dripping with venom as you approached your lips to Y/N’s ears “Wouldn’t you give a helping hand to your friend?” You whispered in a tantalizing tone, loud enough for Chan to hear and finally snap at the situation.

Y/N nodded ─ oblivious to your fake intentions, and smiling cutely at you, ready to help you out with whatever you needed ─, and you felt almost guilty to play with Chan like this as he strode your way upset. You held back your laughter, watching as he took her away from your lap, helping her to balance herself and guiding her arm around his neck as he tried to get her to his room in a stumbling mess. You sighed in relief as you realized that she wasn’t in your lap anymore and you survived this awkward moment, sitting on the couch and fixing your lost gaze straight ahead, pondering.

You weren’t naïve.

Y/N never had caught your attention as a woman… She was just that annoying friend your best friend had. She was like that constant presence in your life reminding you that you couldn’t get the spot you really wanted, and you put effort into being the same for her. For years. Those years seemed to culminate in a battle-worthy tension between the both of you that was slowly melting through these last weeks, and yet you felt stiff around her.

And you didn’t mean stiff like you were now.

It was almost like there was an invisible force preventing you to get closer to her, keeping both of you apart even though you had been trying to be friendlier lately. Sometimes you felt like you had to knock to get in, and sometimes you felt like she was already opening the door for you. There was a constant feeling of not knowing if you were too much or enough, sometimes if you were even needed.

You never felt like this with another woman.

It wasn’t like you were in love with her or something like this! It was just that if you intended to have Chan being part of your life, you had to allow her in. She had to allow you in. And as much you were allowed inside a lot of women throughout your life, this was a totally different matter. You were always the desirable one… Women wanted you, craved for you. It was as simple as that. They came for you and you came for them ─ quite literally, to be honest ─, and then you never exchanged more than a few words with them later on.

It was easy.

Your relationship with Y/N wasn’t easy…

You were growing fond of her (You really were!), but you felt always on edge as if anything you did could put everything at risk. You wanted her to like you… Maybe ask you for lunch instead of simply parting ways when she involved you in her stratagem… Or maybe actually wanting to lie down on the grass and spend some time with you while watching dramas… Or maybe just letting you pay for stuff, just like Chan did.

You wanted to be her friend.

You craved for being accepted into their bubble, and yet you still felt… Off. Like you didn’t belong with them. You knew you were being ridiculous, and Chan said that to you thousands of times, but what could you do? That was how you felt. Anxious. Tensed up. Stressed out. And all that tension, all those pin-up emotions gurgled out of you like… Like you were a teenage boy with a girl sitting on your lap for the first time in your whole life.

You were frustrated.

You could see she was a woman! Of course, you could! You weren’t blind, right? The issue was that you only knew a single way of ultimate bonding with female beings… Sex. You groaned as you felt your friend twitching inside your pants, throwing your head back on the couch as you stared at the ceiling once more. What would be better for bonding than sex? Nothing that you were aware of until now…

Your train of thoughts was interrupted by a loud grunt from Chan, and a dull thud reached your ears, prompting you to get up and go to his room; peeking over the doorframe to find Chan sprawled over her. You chuckled, crossing your arms as you leaned on the doorframe, shooting him a teasing look before he glared at you, trying to brace himself but being held tight by her to the point he couldn’t move. Y/N had her hands around his neck and legs around his hips ─ looking pretty much like a koala ─, eyes closed and mouth agape as she began to make her way into Morpheus's arms.

“She’s pretty drunk” You pointed out, and Chan gave you a mocking surprised grimace, groaning as he tried to get away from her arms but failing as she only wrapped him tighter as he moved “It looks like someone is enjoying themselves” You smirked, and Chan rested his forehead on the pillow, chin brushing Y/N’s shoulder, before sighing and lifting his head to shoot you a pointed look.

“At least I don’t get a boner!” He sneered, trying to at least roll to his side “Good Lord…” He cried, muffled by his pillow once again as he buried his face in distress, unable to roll “Why did you let her drink that much? I just wanted to have a good night…” He whined, face still hidden from you.

“She had a fight with someone, I guess” You explained “She just kept drinking and rambling… To be honest with you, I didn’t get anything she said” You admitted, chuckling as he lifted his head once more, turning his face to you with a pout “Try to talk to her tomorrow morning… Maybe evening? She’ll wake up with the worst hangover she will ever have” You grimaced, watching as she snored, already peacefully sleeping.

“Thank you” Chan mumbled, and you arched your brows in surprise, tilting your head in confusion “It means a lot to me… Seeing both of you getting along, you know? Also, you let her in and listened to her…” He frowned as if he was thinking twice about his statement “Well… Even if you didn’t really pay attention” He laughed “It still means a lot to me that you tried to take care of her when I wasn’t around” He cleared his throat, uncomfortable.

“What are friends even for?” You gave him a small smile.

“Certainly not to get a boner for” He answered with a smirk, and you rolled your eyes, groaning “We will totally talk about it in the future” He chuckled, eyes glinting in amusement “I won’t let you live it down, I swear to God!” You turned off the lights, sighing as you reached for the doorknob in an attempt to end this conversation “Hyunjin” He called, his tone suddenly firm.

“Hm?” The door creaked as you opened it a little, allowing the light to softly illuminate his features, revealing a deadly serious mien.

“I don’t think I even need to say that… But don’t you dare touch her as you do with other women” He warned dryly “I’m being playful about this because I know you didn’t mean anything by it... But if you play around with her for even a second–“

“I can’t even think about fucking her” You lied, chuckling “She’s all yours, buddy… I just want to be friends” At least, this you meant for real “I didn’t have much time to release my frustrations with all those assignments, and exams coming up” You shrugged “I’m just a little bit hornier than the usual” You laughed, trying to reassure him.

“Just keep it inside your pants” He said kinda jokingly but you could still hear the silent threat under his tone “She deserves someone who loves her… And unless you have something new to say to me…” You snorted, shaking your head to deny the suggestion.

“No, I don’t” You assured him, observing how he tried to roll to her side once more, finally succeeding and letting out a relieved sigh, “Now let me sleep, will ya? I’ve already been kept up long enough by your protégé” You joked, closing the door as he adjusted her to his side, trying to get a better position to sleep.

“Goodnight” You heard him muttering when you closed the door.

“Goodnight” You answered, even if you weren’t sure it was meant for you.

////

You woke up with morning wood.

You groaned, pressing your palms against your eyes as you felt the shame wash over you ─ crushing you against the mattress and making you sink in your bed, devasted ─ before your rested your hands on your chest and fixed your gaze on the ceiling. You bit your lip, glancing at your groin as you wondered if it would be that bad to take care of it… You weren’t doing anything wrong, right? It was perfectly normal to get hard to the thought of… Of what? You couldn’t even remember what you had just dreamed.

You slid your hand down your body cautiously, closing your eyes as soon as you felt your palm against yourself, gasping. You had to contact some of your hookups someday, it wasn’t going to do you any good to keep thirsty like this. You pinched the waistband of your boxers, ready to slip your hand in and get rid of your problem before the door opened with a creak. You jolted your body up, hand snapping back to the mattress as you swiveled your head to confront the intruder, meeting Y/N’s gaze as soon as you turned around.

“Oh! Morning” You blurted out, startled. She came into your room without your permission, closing the door behind her and locking it, turning around to look at you with coy eyes before biting her lips. You gulped down, scanning her from head to toes “What do you want?” You asked warily, licking your lips as she made her way to your bed.

“You” She muttered under her breath, leaning in your way “And I think you want me too” She whispered, palming you above your pants, enticing a groan from you. The moment was insanely bewildering, and you could only gasp as she slowly passed one of her legs to the other side of your body, lowering her body to sit right on your groin. You shot your hands to her hips, holding her down so she couldn’t move, feeling your throat go dry as you looked into her lustful eyes.

Holy fucking shit.

“Look, I promised Chan I wouldn’t lay a hand on you…” You tried to reason but your thumbs rubbed circles on her hips unconsciously, and you had to use every single fiber on your body to not just squeeze that flesh and throw your friendship out of the window. She chuckled ─ something closer to a low purr than actual laughter ─, fingers going to your lips to shush you on a sexy motion that could have made you lose your mind with any other girl.

But not with her.

You couldn’t lose your mind with her.

“So don’t use your hands” She whispered against your ear, hot breath sending a shiver down your body “I’ll do all the work for you…” She nibbled your earlobe as she placed her hands over yours, guiding you to squeeze her hips before locking her fingers with yours, pulling your hands above your head to pin your down “… Hyunjin” Her voice sounded like dripping honey, warm and full of sweet promises that you were more than up to take.

“We can’t be loud” You gave in and she smirked against your jaw, placing an open-mouth kiss there and tracing a path to the crook of your neck “H-He can’t know…” You added, voice trembling when she lowered her kisses to your collarbone, biting on your skin at the same time she rolled her hips, making you grunt.

It was like your moan was cloistered inside your chest, ready to be all let out now that you had her above you. She chuckled against your skin, adjusting her hold on your wrists to tease you with her other hand ─ her nails on a featherlike brushing down on your body ─, enticing one more groan from the depths of your chest.

“I’m not the one moaning like a bitch in heat, am I?” She asked amusedly.

Yeah, she really wasn’t.

You know what? Fuck it.

“I think we should change that” You suggested in an alluring tone before yanking your hands away from hers to hold her waist and invert your positions. You hovered over her like a predator to his prey, letting the sexual tension between both of you build-up to the point it was hard to breathe. You leaned closer to her, taking your time to tease her, getting off on how she withheld her breath, expecting your next motion “Be as loud as you want… I’m about to fuck your brains out of you” You smirked against her ear, letting your breath spread there just enough to make her shiver before sucking on her neck to get the most lustful moan you have ever heard.

Good girl.

Your phone blasted your ringtone for dear life.

You jolted your body up as you shot your eyes open, looking around the place to make sense of what was happening. There was no one to be seen under you, or above you, or anywhere else for that matter. Holy fucking crap… You had a wet dream. You brought both of your hands to your face like you were about to pray for some forgiveness, but you just inhaled deeply, utterly in shock at what had just happened.

And your phone had no respect for your embarrassing moment.

You reached for your phone like it was your worst enemy, taking the call without even looking at whoever was calling you on a Saturday morning. You pressed the button and slid it to the side, bringing the phone to your ear, spitting an upset “Hello”, and prepared to send this person to the ends of hell if it wasn’t the most fucking important thing in the whole world.

You shouldn’t be so enraged by this situation, and some part of you felt ashamed for your reaction. Were you upset because someone was calling you early in the morning? Or were you upset because this call interrupted your dream? You cleared your throat, dropping the thought as soon as it flickered in the back of your mind.

“—Hello? Hyunjin? Are you there?” Paris’s voice sounded through the line in a worried tone “Hey? Hyunjin? Did he hang up on me?” She mumbled, confused, and you took the moment to clear your throat once more.

“Hey! Yeah, Hyunjin speaking” You sighed “Why are you calling me this early?” You whined, and she scoffed on the other side.

“It’s noon” She pointed out in a judgmental voice “Also, is Y/N with you guys? Did she sleep there?” You could tell the expectation under her voice was a mix of frustration, fear, and hope, and as soon as you hummed to confirm it, she let out a relieved sigh “Oh! Good!” You waited for a second but she kept silent on the other side, just her breathing assuring you that she was still there. You pursed your lips, unsure if you should just end your call, before her breath halted, catching your attention.

Paris was acting strangely.

“Why didn’t you call her?” You asked suspiciously and she withheld her breath as if you had just caught her red-handed “You guys fought, didn’t you?” She hummed, clearly embarrassed, so you let out a tired huff “Do you want me to put her on the phone?” You asked tiredly, and she gasped on the other side.

“Would you do this for me?!” She beamed, making you chuckle.

“You can build me an altar or something” You joked, getting up from your bed to head to Chan’s room “I’ll warn you that she drank like a son of a bitch yesterday… She’s having a hangover for sure” You stated, knocking on Chan’s door and waiting for him to answer you “Hold on” You asked, covering your phone.

“Come in!” He shouted before you could call him, and you opened the door to meet a shirtless Chan closing the bathroom’s door behind him, holding a towel around his waist before fixing it. He shot you a curious look, ruffling his hair with another towel and making water droplets splash everywhere, unbothered. You roamed your eyes around the room, looking for Y/N but finding only an empty bed with messy sheets “What is it?” He asked bluntly, arched brow questioning you.

“I’m looking for Y/N, Paris wants to talk to her” You explained, showing your phone to him as if he could read it from the other side of his room “She’s not here?” The answer to it was clear ─ unless she suddenly went invisible ─, but Chan didn’t seem to mind it. He gestured mindlessly to his side, pointing with his thumb to the bathroom before hanging his towel around his neck and looking for some clothes in his closet.

“She’s taking a bath” He answered distracted, studying his collection of exactly the same black blouses “Maybe ask her to call later… Y/N didn’t wake up on the right foot today, to be honest” He mused, picking up one of his shirts and putting it back without a second thought “She didn’t even let me take care of her” He added, finally settling with a black shirt that had no difference to the last one he had pulled, smiling satisfied at it.

“Hey, she’s in the bath” You said monotonously to Paris “Yeah, maybe call her later?” You suggested, nodding as she thanked you, saying goodbye to finish your call. You lowered your hand, holding your phone next to your waist as you stared at Chan, who seemed to notice your awkward behavior, choosing to ignore it to search for black sweatpants to combine with his black shirt.

“What? Do you want me to strip for you or something?” He laughed, tossing his clothes on his bed as he headed to the drawer to search for some underwear “If you’re curious about them, I don’t know anything either” He shrugged, picking up his underwear and turning around to face you “She slept like a baby last night and we didn’t talk much this morning” He chuckled, staring the bed with an amused look.

You could tell.

“Look at this… She’s like a wild animal” He pointed to the sheets, chuckling, and you grimaced. Too much information, buddy. You hummed, nodding to acknowledge his statement but keeping silent, shrugging and turning around to get out of his room. You hesitated for a moment, turning around once again before coughing to get his attention.

“Try to talk to her when she comes out… I think she would listen to you better than she would to me” You suggested, biting your lips “I mean, it must have been pretty serious… She cried a lot last night, and Paris didn’t even know she was here” He tilted his head at your statement, seeming to ponder something.

“I have known her for a long time… I don’t think anything I can tell her now will make her call Paris if they fought that badly” He admitted, crossing his arms over his chest “I can certainly try, though” He added quickly, heading to his bed to fix the sheets “I’ll talk to her later… Let her have her moment, for now, I don’t think she’s feeling well enough yet” He concluded, sitting on his bed to look at you.

“Yeah, of course…” You nodded, motioning to get out of his bedroom “Do you want some coffee? I think I’ll make some for me” You offered, and he frowned at you in confusion, tilting his head to the side.

“You don’t drink coffee” He stated matter-of-factly, arching his brow.

“Of course I do!” You scoffed, sounding fake even to your ears, and averting your gaze from him.

“No, you don’t… I live with you for ages, Hyunjin, I am the only one who drinks it in this house” He inhaled sharply in sudden realization, letting a smirk slowly spread through his features “Actually… I may know one more person who likes to drink it” You didn’t need to look at Chan’s face to see that he was mocking you silently with that I-See-You-I-Know-You look, brows arched and eyes glinting in amusement.

“I’m just trying to cheer her up a little bit” You muttered grudgingly “Isn’t it what friends do?” You returned your gaze to him, and he smiled sincerely at you, nodding as his eyes softened, his playfulness dissolving into gratitude.

“Yes, it is” He agreed “Thank you for taking care of her… I’m glad you guys are getting along well" He admitted, glancing at his clothes before looking at you “Though I think you’re being too attentive since yesterday” His smile turned into a teasing grin “Be careful to not fall in love, horny boy” He mocked, and you groaned in embarrassment.

“Let it go” You pleaded, rolling your eyes in faux exasperation.

“Make me some coffee and I’ll think about it” He retorted, making you chuckle and nod as you closed his door with a jokingly ‘Yes, sir!’, making your way to the kitchen. You took a pan to fill it with water, leaning on the sink to watch the water flowing from the tap; the typical sound it made as it hit the surface making you uncomfortable. You grimaced, closing the tap and letting it rest on the oven, setting it to boil the water as you made your way to the bathroom.

You opened the door mindlessly ─ too lazy to go to your room and settling to go to the corridor’s bathroom ─, giving one step ahead before gasping and letting go of the doorknob in shock. You felt your airways block as you met the very too same thighs that held you in place earlier in your dreams, eyes wavering upward to her face and trying to ignore the amount of exposed skin that made you bit your lips. Y/N snapped her head at you, hands tugging down the shirt she was just finishing o put on, an attempt to hide her body from your eyes.

What the hell was she doing here?!

You closed the door with a slam, feeling your heart race inside your chest as you leaned on the closed door, hands going to check your heartbeat as your mouth fell agape. Wasn’t she in Chan’s bathroom?! What the hell was she doing there?! Holy fucking shit… It was just a female body, for lord’s sake! Nothing new under the sun. Yet, it was just a female body that you dreamt about... One that you were willingly going to fuck on your mind not too long ago.

The scene played on your mind once more.

Thighs that you would like spread apart with your own hands… A belly that you would kiss every inch until you reached for the very spot between her legs that for a split of a second made you gulp down, not so dryly as you thought about it… A neck that seemed like the perfect place to leave your marks… A face that you never thought you would like to corrupt… And eyes…

You frowned.

Eyes red and swollen that belonged to someone who has been crying.

“Y/N?” You hesitantly knocked on the door, resting your head on the surface as you waited for her answer that never came “Are you okay?” You asked softly, paying close attention to any noise that she could make.

“Y-Yeah…” She answered after a while, and you were sure she sniffed, probably wiping her tears away as she spoke up, a choked voice that didn’t let you any doubts “I’m fine” She added more firmly now, and you sighed.

“Can I come in?” You asked, uncertain of what you were doing, and she remained silent for a while.

“N-No” She finally answered, a weak string of voice that made your heart pang.

“Are you dressed up?” You turned around to rest your forehead on the door, waiting for her answer with your hand on the doorknob.

“Yeah…” She sighed in defeat, and you didn’t wait to open the door, walking in her direction.

She hugged herself as if her arms could pull her together, head slightly tilted down as she raised her gaze to watch you making your way to her. She looked broken ─ red eyes and bloated face showing that she had been crying for a while ─, trembling like a deer caught in headlights and hunching her back in a way that made her look small, probably just as much as she felt right now. You approached her, embracing her body silently to give her a reassuring hug, feeling how she tensed up under your hold.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, and her hands moved to your waist hesitantly “I know we’re not really friends, and you probably prefer to talk to Chan…” You trailed off, suddenly feeling like an intruder as she held the sides of your shirt. You felt all the blood running out from your brain, afraid she would just push you away on the spot, but she didn’t. She held your shirt tightly ─ face contorting for a split of a second when she did ─ but she didn’t pull you closer, staying like this into your hold.

“What are you talking about? We’re kinda friends… Aren’t we?” She asked unsurely, refusing to look at you. She rested her forehead on your chest, and you inhaled sharply as she did, startled by her question.

“I mean… Yeah? I think… Yeah, we kinda are” You agreed, floundering with your words. She relaxed into your arms, hands sliding to tangle around your waist, pulling you closer to her into a vulnerable hug that dissolved both of your tension. You tightened your grip around her, resting your chin on the top of her head before stroking her hair gently “Paris called… She wants to talk to you” You offered, unsure if it was a good call.

“She did?” Her tone was surprised, and she lifted her head to look into your eyes, head-butting you in the process. You closed one of your eyes, in pain, scrunching your nose as you looked at her “Sorry!” She blurted, hand shooting to your chin to study the damage she could have caused. You opened your eye, watching as she tilted your head to each side to take a better look at your face, admiring her worried features for a bit too long before clearing your throat.

“I’m okay” You muttered, gently holding her wrist to take her hand away from you, noticing how she winced in pain. You frowned, taking a look at her hand to spot a swollen and dark bruise that extended over the side of her palm, starting from the base of her little finger and down to her wrist. You returned your gaze to her eyes, worry plastered over your face, and she averted them from yours in embarrassment before you took her hand in yours, caressing it carefully “What happened?” You asked as she squirmed under your touch, face twisting once again.

“It’s nothing serious… I—“ You rolled your eyes, guiding her to sit on the toilet and leaving her for a second to take some ice pack on the fridge. When you returned, she eyed you curiously, making a surprised face as you took her hand once again to place the pack on her bruise, instructing her to hold it in place “It’s okay! You don’t have to worry, it’s just –“ You ignored her once again, opening the bathroom cabinet to look for some bandages.

“I’m not really good at this” You lied, taking the elastic bandage and looking at her flabbergasted features “What? Can’t I treat your wounds? I may not be a doctor-to-be like Chan but I can ice pack your bruises, okay?” You muttered grudgingly as you sat down on the floor, facing her with a subtle pout that you hoped she didn’t notice “And yes, she did call you” You changed the subject, propping your elbow on your knee and resting your cheek on your palm “You guys are going to be okay… There is nothing that could pull you apart” You promised, and she averted her eyes from you, ashamed.

“I was an ass to her” She sighed, and you tilted your head to take a better look at her eyes, prompting her to look away from you.

“Then apologize” You stated, nudging her with your foot so she would return her gaze at you, making her huff before looking at you.

“She was an ass to me” She lowered her gaze before fixing her eyes on yours, a wary expression over her face.

“To the point that you’d never want to talk to her again? Was it enough for you to give up on her?” You asked sincerely, and she shot her brows up, shaking her head vehemently.

“No! Of course not” She said eagerly, and you chuckled, leaning forward to pat her knee.

“Then forgive her” You offered her a small smile.

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considermewhelmed · 4 years ago

Text

Achilles Come Down by Gang of Youths- Tim Drake

TW: attempted su*c*de/su*c*dal thoughts, anxiety, depression.

a/n: hey remember in the Master when I said these would be short fics? Ha. Yeah. Me too. Good times.

Tag list: @river9noble

Master

“Achilles, Achilles, Achilles come down/Won’t you get up off, get up off the roof?/You’re scaring us and all of us/Some of us love you/Achilles it’s not much but there’s proof.”

“You may feel no purpose/Nor a point for existing/It’s all just conjecture and gloom/And there may not be meaning/So find one and seize it/Do not waste yourself on this roof/Hear those bells ring deep in the soul/Chiming away for a moment/Feel your breath course frankly below/And see life as a worthy opponent.”

Tim stood on the edge of the building, overlooking the city. His cape billowed lightly in the cool air, and he took a deep breath.

‘Red Robin, report.’ Barbra’s voice asked in his ear.

Tim remained silent, his eyes scanning the streets, but his mind far away.

‘Red Robin, report.’ She repeated.

‘Red Robin, are you okay?’

A new voice broke onto the comms.

Dick.

He had been thinking a lot. About Dick. And Damian. Bruce. Steph. Babs. Duke. Luke. Cass. Kate even. There were just… so many of them. So many. One less surely wouldn’t matter?

He imagined he wouldn’t get a huge memorial like the one for Jason in the batcave- he was choosing this, he did it himself, there was no honour in that. He didn’t mind though, he wasn’t sure he even cared to be remembered.

They barely remembered him alive, why would death help?

He wondered how long it would take them to forget him. The voice is the first thing you forget about a person, when was the last time he talked to them all?

‘Red Robin, where are you?’ Dick.

‘Is his comm offline?’ Steph.

‘No, it’s online. It should be working. Receiver and all.’ Barbra.

‘Red Robin?’ Dick.

He looked down. He’d survived some pretty unlikely things, but this was too much. Too high. There was no way his heart could take his fall, let alone the pavement below waiting for his body. It called his name, whispering the promises of sweet relief with every breeze, the streetlight spotlight marking his entrance to his final bow.

‘Can you get his tracker online?’ Dick.

‘Red Robin, come in.’ Bruce.

‘No. He’s bypassed the security.’ Barbra.

‘Really Drake?’ Damian. ‘Sneaking off during patrol?’

‘Red Robin, report.’ Bruce- and Tim imagined he sounded worried in the way only Batman could be.

‘Where was his route?’ Dick.

Tim tuned them out, but couldn’t bring himself to turn the comms off completely. He didn’t have the heart to be alone- he was selfish and desperate.

He shrugged off the cape, letting it fall to the rooftop, and quietly unclipped his utility belt. He wished he felt scared, or sad, or anything, but instead he just felt numb. Human instinct should be trying to get him back safely to the solid roof behind him, but instead he just swayed in the wind, as if even his own body was impartial to the decision.

He closed his eyes and sighed quietly, rolling his shoulders back, resigning to his fate. There was no use in fighting anymore.

That was it. He felt something. Tired.

Not just tired. Exhausted. Bone deep exhaustion, the kind of exhaustion that made even sleeping a chore. Tears gathered in his eyes, and with each drop his mask got looser and looser. He thought of something to say- some sort of goodbye. Not for them, but for him, for closure. His own eulogy. Last words, maybe?

Did he deserve last words when the villain he lost to was his own mind? Internal, eternal, and inevitable? It was a dance he’d been a part of for far too long and he was just tired.

“Hey Replacement.”

Tim expected his whole body to go rigid, for his instinct to take over, for any kind of fight to bubble up inside him, itching to get out. He and Jason reconciled, sure, but sometimes when he caught him off guard, Tim still had the same knee-jerk reaction.

Instead, his body just stood there, open and unarmed. It solidified his resolve- even his instincts knew it was over. The idea that Jason could easily shoot him, or push him off the roof didn’t scare him.

Why would it?

He could hear Jason’s quiet, heavy steps as the older boy approached.

‘Red Hood, status, have you found him?’

Dick’s voice came over the comms.

Tim didn’t look at Jason. There was a soft click.

“No, not yet. I’ll keep looking. Just cover my area Dickhead.” Jason said before the soft click happened again.

The two boys were quiet for a minute.

Behind him, Tim could hear the familiar whirring of the mechanics- mechanics he helped design -that indicated the removal of Jason’s Red Hood helmet. A thump after indicated Jason had opted to ditch it on the roof.

Normally, Tim would yell at him for being so careless with his equipment, especially since Tim worked hard on the last updates, but he couldn’t even find his voice.

He heard the clatter of weapons hitting the ground, and Jason stepped closer.

“Come on Timmy,” Jason said softly, and Tim’s chest tightened at the nickname. “You’re shaking. You gotta be freezing.”

It wasn’t until Jason said something that Tim realized he was vibrating. Even the air was unforgiving in Gotham, and somewhere between his decision to step on the ledge and the loss of his cape, it turned into an icy grip that cut through the thin material of his suit.

The wind stung his face where the tears had started to slip beneath his mask. His knees buckled and he sucked in a sharp breath of air.

“I can’t.” He choked out, his hand gripping at his chest. “I- I can’t move.”

‘Red Robin?’ Dick’s voice cut through the comms. ‘Come on buddy, where are you, I’ll come get you.’

Tim couldn’t hear him over the roar of his own blood in his ears, and took his comm out of his ear, throwing it off to the side.

It was then he caught sight of Jason, and was shocked by the lack of not only helmet, but mask as well. Jason’s eyes had a green shine to them- a side effect of the pit -and they were trained on Tim.

Jason held out his hand to Tim. “Take my hand baby bird.” He murmured.

“No,” Tim cried. “I want- I should- I have to- I’m going to fall Jason-”

“No.” Jason said sternly. “No you won’t.”

Tim inched closer to the ledge. “It doesn’t matter-”

“Of course it matters dipshit, you matter. I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.”

Tim’s lip trembled and a sob tore from his throat as his knees gave out from under him and for a split second he was falling-

And the next he was wrapped in a tight hug.

Tim reached out instinctually and grabbed onto whatever he could hold, staying as close as possible to the smell of leather, gun polish and sweat, a surprisingly comforting combination.

Maybe it was just because it meant safety.

“I’ve got you baby bird,” Jason mumbled, and he could feel Jason bury his nose in Tim’s hair. “I’ve got you.”

“I’m sorry,” He sputtered through his tears. “I’m sorry, Jay, I’m sorry,” A whole new breakdown washed over him, and he couldn’t get a grip on his emotions.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Jason scolded him lightly, and rubbed little circles on his back. “I’ve got you.”

“I was going to do it,” Tim cried.

“I know.” Jason whispered.

“They hate me. They’re going to hate me more!” Tim whimpered. “I can’t- I don’t want-”

“I know.” Jason repeated. “But no one hates you, Tim,” He promised. “Hell, even Barbra threatened to get out here to find you.”

Tim buried his face in Jason’s chest and just stayed there. “I’m nothing more than a placeholder,” He mumbled. “I’m a pretender. A replacement.” He sniffled. “I didn’t- I didn’t even want to be Robin. God. I wanted Dick to be Robin. Batman needs Robin.” He was close to hysterics, and god Jason still didn’t know what to do.

“Maybe,” Jason agreed. “But Bruce Wayne needs Tim Drake.” Jason said quietly. “I’m pretty sure the old man would be lost without you Timmy.”

Tim shook his head and Jason snorted. “You set up the system in the batcave, make sure the Wayne business is intact and running smoothly, you’ve updated all the security, you always make sure there’s coffee in the manor, and no one makes him smile with bad jokes like you do.”

Tim stayed quiet, and Jason alternated between rubbing his back and running his hand through Tim’s hair. The boys stood there for as long as Tim needed to and Jason realized how small Tim was because Jesus Christ this was just a kid in a costume and he just wanted to be loved.

“Can we go back to the Manor?” Jason murmured. “My bike’s not far.”

Tim didn’t move.

“We can watch a movie?” He suggested. “I’ll let you pick.”

“Why are you being so nice?” Tim mumbled.

“Well… I could punch you instead if you’d like. Not sure that’ll make you feel better though.” He offered, and was rewarded by the smallest, quietest laugh. “C’mon, we can raid the kitchen.”

“You aren’t going to make me talk?” Tim asked.

Jason shook his head, tightening his grip on him. “I’m not going to make you talk about anything you don’t want to baby bird.” He said softly. “But if you want to do that, I’m here for that too.”

Tim tightened his own grip and kept close- Jason was keeping him grounded and that’s all that mattered. “What was it like?” He whispered.

Jason was quiet for a long moment, and Tim regretted asking almost immediately.

“Long.” Jason decided. “Dark. Quiet.”

“Good quiet?”

“No.” Jason said softly. “Too quiet.”

“I’m sorry.” Tim whispered.

“Me too,” Jason mumbled. “You’re not alone Timbo. I’m right here, alright?”

Tim nodded and pulled away after a moment when he felt like he could stand on his own. Jason collected their things and handed Tim his mask, cape and belt, putting his own mask and helmet back on, clipping his holsters on.

The ride back was quiet- Tim’s comm must have busted when it hit the roof, and if Jason heard anything he wasn’t giving it away. Jason came up with some half-assed lie about what happened to Barbra and the other Bats over the comms, and immediately claimed the living room for him and Tim, heading upstairs.

Tim was asleep by the end of the opening credits, tucked safely into the side of his big brother.

Maybe Tim couldn’t fight the villain in his head on his own, but having someone like Jason Todd on your side certainly made it easier.

#thebatfamplaylist #tim drake #red robin #jason todd #red hood #batman #bruce wayne #dc #dc comics #dick grayson #nightwing #damian wayne #Robin #barbra gordon #oracle #sorry this is so sad

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let-me-love-you-loki · 4 years ago

Text

Reassuring Too Late

Nick

It was strange those first few days and weeks. It didn’t matter that I’d only been gone for a week… I’d walked out on my wife, my kids, my brother. I’d left them when they needed me, when Mattie needed me. After everything Y/N had gone through with Ty… selfish wasn’t even the word for it. Coward wasn’t even strong enough.

And God knew I hated myself every second of every minute of every day that I was gone. It ate at me the moment I started packing my stuff. By the time I was in the car, I felt like I was going to puke. I cried as soon as I pulled out of the driveway and sobbed all the way to my parents’ house.

I was still amazed that they’d let me come home. That Matt and Y/N had given me the chance to make all of this up to them was almost more than I could grasp. They had more grace and love than I could fathom. I didn’t deserve them, and I thanked God every day that they’d allowed me back.

For the first week after I came home, Mattie wouldn’t let me out of her sight. Matt and Y/N had pulled her from school, so she was home all the time. If I walked down the hall, she was right on my heels. If I stepped outside to do yardwork or have a place to think, she found a reason to sit with her feet in the pool or to do her homework at the picnic table on the patio. More than once, I found her bundled up in her sleeping bag outside the door of whatever bedroom I happened to be sleeping in.

Matt took a while to let me spend time with Y/N without hovering. I didn’t blame him, honestly. But I tried my best to show them both that I was sorry… that I wanted to make things right. Y/N just rolled her eyes at Matt and acted—wonderfully—as if nothing had happened. Yes, I could still see some of the pain in her eyes when she looked at me. Every second of seeing her in pain was like a knife in my chest, and I swore that I would never hurt her again. That I would die first.

“Dad,” Mattie said, appearing out of the blue at my elbow. “Can you help me with this?”

She pointed to the thick paperback book in her hand. Algebra. I cringed a little. “I haven’t done algebra in… way too long.” Her face dropped. I smiled. “But I’ll try.”

Her fingers wrapped around mine. There were new callouses on her palms, earned from long hours in the home gym or the training ring. She’d gotten stronger, and God knew that she looked more like her mother every day. My chest ached. I couldn’t believe I’d been such a coward as to leave her when she needed me.

We plopped down on the bench at the table. She pushed some papers aside, stacking her other books in a rough pile. Then she flipped open the book and slid it closer to me. “I don’t get how to do this,” she said pointing at the page.

I pulled the book close and tried not to look intimidated. After two read throughs of the problems, I figured I had some idea of what was going on.

“Okay, first, what does your teacher say to do?”

Mattie grinned, “You mean Mom or Hattie?”

I bumped her playfully with my shoulder. “Hattie. We both know your Mom isn’t the best when it comes to this stuff.”

She smiled even more and launched into a detailed explanation of her last co-op meeting and what had happened in her math lesson. I listened carefully, hoping something would ring a bell for me. Honestly, I’d spent more time in high school waiting to get home to train with Matt than I did listening to what was going on. Hopefully I wasn’t completely useless in this.

“So, when it says this…” she ran her fingers down the page, “then, you take this here and put it in this equation. But I don’t get this one. There’s too much going on.”

I looked over her shoulder. If f(x)=….. and g(x)=… and t(x)=…. Then what is f(g(t(x)))?

Holy shit, I thought, I have no clue what to do.

“Okay, give me a second…” I needed more than a second, but I wasn’t going to tell her that. “So let’s talk through what Hattie told you. If you see f(g(x)) and all you do is take the equation for g(x) and put it in where there’s an x in the original equation, how is this one different?”

Mattie stared at the page, the corners of her mouth turning down. I could see the frustration settling in on her brow. “I don’t know, Dad. I can’t do math. It’s stupid…. I’m stupid.”

“You are not stupid, Mattie. Not everything comes easy for everyone. Sometimes, you have to work extra hard and that’s okay.” I leaned over and kissed the side of her head. “You can do this. So look… let’s do Hattie’s lesson again.”

We sat there for what felt like hours, but was probably only a few minutes. Mattie recited what she’d been told by her teacher. I picked out problems that looked exactly what Mattie wrote on the paper, and we did them together. Three problems in I knew what she was supposed to do.

“Take a deep breath, and listen to me, okay? If you can do that with two equations…”

I watched. Waited. Held my tongue. She needed to figure it out on her own.

She perked up, looking at her book with wide eyes. “If you can do that with two equations, you can do it with three. Work backward! Plug t into g and then the result of that into f.”

I grinned back, holding up my fingers. “There you go, gimme a too sweet.”

She smiled so proudly that it made my heart nearly burst. She looked so much like Y/N in that moment. I tucked my arms around her and gave her a big hug. “Proud of you, Tea.”

Mattie pressed a kiss to my cheek. “Love you, Dad. I think I can do this now.”

“Shout if you need me, okay?” I dropped a kiss on the top of her head as I stood up and turned toward the kitchen. “I won’t be far.”

The moment my gaze focused on the kitchen, I felt my breath snatched out of my chest. Y/N stood by the sink, tears streaming down her cheeks, one hand pressed against her mouth, the other gripping her phone. Guilt stabbed through me as I closed the space between us.

“What’s the matter, Sunshine?” I asked, settling my palms against her cheeks. My thumbs brushed at the tears still flowing.

My wife looked up at me with the eyes that could stop my heart and make it race at the same time. She reached out, pressing her hand over my heart. “I just saw you with Mattie and…”

I squeezed my eyes shut and let my forehead press against hers. It ached to take a breath. “I’ll fix it, Y/N. I promise you, I’ll make it up to you. To all of you.”

***

Nick smelled like sunshine and heat and home. I marveled at it these days, desperate to burn every second into my memory, knowing that it could end at any moment. As much as I tried to put those lonely days behind me, I couldn’t help but feel the lingering fear that this bubble of happiness would burst and I would lose myself again.

I’d come upon them by accident. Nicole and the boys were at school. Baby Ty was asleep in the nursery. I had planned on getting started on lunch for when Mattie had a break. Yet, the moment I stepped into the kitchen I saw them at the table. Mattie, her dark hair pulled back in a messy knot, long legs folded beneath her on the bench, leaning unconsciously into Nick’s side. Nick, turned toward our daughter, his arm slung around her shoulder, head tilted sideways, brow furrowed in concentration.

I couldn’t help but take pictures. Dozens of them. The longer I looked, the more I cried. It was everything I’d ever wanted… a happy life with the people I loved the most in the whole world. Everything that happened had only made me more grateful for the moments I had.

“Oh, Nick,” I whispered, resting my hands on his ribs. “You’re here. You’re home, and there’s nothing else that I want.”

His blue eyes popped open. “Then why are you crying?”

I chuckled and leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. “Because I’m watching you with our daughter. I’m watching you be a dad. And that’s the greatest joy I’ve ever known.”

Nick snatched me closer, burying his face against my neck. He hugged me tight, one hand cradling the back of my head. His chest rose and fell in gasping breaths, tears dampening the skin of my throat. I clutched him to me, falling into the strength and comfort and rightness of the way that it felt to be in his arms.

“You are enough,” I murmured over and over again. “You’ve always been enough, Nick. I love you so much. I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you. All I’ve ever wanted was to have this… this life with you.”

Nick sucked in a breath and leaned back, cradling my face with his hands. “I hated myself for so long… wanting what my brother had. For wanting you and everything that being with you would bring.”

I shushed him, smiling softly as I looked into his beautiful blue eyes. “Then I should hate me too, Nick. But Matt doesn’t hate us, so why should we hate ourselves? I have you. You have me. We have Matt, and we have these beautiful children. And God knows, the happiest moments of my life are watching you be a dad.”

Wriggling out of his hold, I picked up my phone and pulled up one of the pictures I’d just taken. He slipped the phone from my fingers and stared at the photo until the screen went black. I rested my forehead against his bicep.

“Dad! I’m stuck again,” Mattie called over her shoulder. I felt Nick heave a breath. He wiped his eyes and pressed a kiss to my hair.

“Coming, Tea.”

Tag List

@mox-made-me-do-it @not-that-kinda-gurl08 @lilred91 @imagineall-the-fandoms @maelleoute @librathepheonix13 @justamess44

#too late tales #the too late tales #nick jackson fanfiction #matt jackson fanfiction #nick jackson #matt jackson #young bucks #young bucks fanfiction #aew #aew fanfiction #mattie jackson #matt x reader #nick x reader #matt x reader x nick #polyamory #polyamorous relationships

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o-wise-corvid · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 2! Okay so I know how I’m just WALLOWING in the feels at this point but action is on the way. Cody’s Kids are gonna kick some butt in Chapter 3!! So endure the feels and look forward to Butt-kickin’ Babies soon. Oh and if you wanna be tagged, holler.

Warnings: night terrors/ survivor’s guilt/ PTSD/ anxiety/ mentions of parental death/ regrets about Order 66

People who were wanting more: @captainrexisboo @clonetrooperrights @koskareevesismyqueen @gospelofme @jgvfhl @ct-27-fives @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life

Chapter Two: Of Nightmares

Eight months later...

“Buir.”

Cody opened one eye.

Rex was crouched down in front of him, his eyes seeming to slightly glow in the ambient light from the hallway. The boy gave his shoulder another rousing shake.

“What is it?” Cody asked, sleep thick in his throat and muscles as he raised up on elbow. He didn’t mind the kids coming to him, at any time, but just now, he’d been sleeping so uneventfully.

“Kali’s having a night terror.”

Cody was on his feet, pulling on the sade cloth robe Shriek had given him for Life Day, like a jolt of electricity had passed through him.

The others were at various positions around the larger group bedroom when he entered quietly. Soren was sitting beside Shriek, letting the smaller boy hold him around the waist. Gaia was sat on the floor beside the two of them, hands wrapped around one of Shriek’s dangling feet. Something about that kind of contact comforted the boy unlike anything else.

From her bunk, Kali gave a whimper and then, behind closed lips, her voice shot up into a high wail of terror and pain. Her skinny shoulders shook with muffled sobs, thick tears streaming down her face as her long fingers twisted her blanket and pillow into her fists. There was only one thing that could be done; someone would have to wake her.

He hated to pull Gaia away from the boy but Cody couldn’t protect himself the way she could if Kali had another episode. The situation with Kali and Shriek had been deceptive when they’d first arrived and everyone had thought that the boy was a weapon, an aberration in the Force that the Empire sought to twist to their purpose. And he was, but not in the way they’d all first assumed. Kali was the real danger between the two.

“Gaia.”

She sighed and rocked up onto her knees, hair hanging free around her face. “Don’t touch her before we’re ready,” she reminded him in a firm voice. Cody nodded as Gaia knee-walked her way across and then pulled him down by his wrists. “Slowly,” she warned. This wasn’t a new experience for either of them; Kali slipped into the terrors almost monthly but it was never any less traumatic. She could be woke without destroying the room but doing so would take care.

Gaia’s brows knit in concentration, a sensation filling the air in the room much like that before a lightning strike. Behind her, Soren and Shriek breathed in deeply and then out again, syncing up with the controlled rise and fall of Gaia’s chest. Rex, on Cody’s other side, placed a warding hand between Cody’s shoulders.

“Now,” he mouthed, eyes unfocused.

Cody reached for Kali’s hands, knowing if he didn’t act quickly, the kids might not be able to keep up their shields around him. He didn’t want a repeat of his first meeting with the young girl; phantom darts of that pain in his head still assailed him when he was overtired. Kali flinched at his touch, curling in on herself like she’d been kicked.

“Kali, girl,” Cody coaxed quietly. “Come on, little one. It’s us. We’re all here with you. It’s okay.”

“They’ve got Mommy.” Cody almost jumped at Rex’s voice, but this was part of the routine. Rex called it “venting the pressure”. The boy was staring somewhere across the room, eyes rolling back in his head disturbingly. His voice sounded... dead. “They’ve... got...”

“Daddy’s on the floor.” Soren gripped his own skull and rocked a little, wincing as the pain Cody knew all too well threatened to split it open. “He’s not getting up.”

“Kali, come on, baby. Wake up for me. Come on.” Cody scooped his arms around the little Twi’Lek, feeling her fight and kick at his touch. “Come on. It’s over.”

He felt her wake up rather than saw it. She gave a hard jerk in his arms as if she’d been thrown back into her body. The little girl started to push him away, but froze, sweeping her large yellow-green eyes over all the faces looking at her. Rex swayed, catching himself on the edge of Kali’s bunk. Soren heaved a groaning sigh of exhaustion, slumping against Shriek. The little boy, strong little man, braced the older Zabrak and patted his shoulder.

Kali made a relieved but wounded noise, hiding her face in her hands as she broke down and sobbed. Cody thought his chest might cave in as he pulled her close, the others clustering around, murmuring softly to each other. Rex and Soren clasped arms behind him, both looking shaken but the worst was over. This was one of the worst of Kali’s episodes and the entire group looked absolutely drained.

“I’m so tired,” Kali shuddered. “I don’t want to hurt anybody.”

Cody could feel her tears dropping onto his neck. “Baby, it’s not your fault,” he tried, not knowing what else to say.

Little, trembling fingers touched his temple. “You still hurt.”

Cody pulled back and caught her hand. “It’s not your fault,” he repeated, more firmly this time.

Kali’s eyes darted around to the others. “I’m so sorry!” she wailed.

“Kali, no!” Soren admonished sweetly, patting her on the head.

“Come on, Kali. It could be any of us. We all have nightmares.” Rex spoke gently, the tone sounding so very like his namesake.

“You thought you were protecting me. Remember?” Shriek slid his hand into Kali’s and gave it a squeeze.

“That’s what we do here.” Gaia braced herself on Cody’s shoulder, reaching down to wipe Kali’s cheeks dry. “We protect each other.”

Everyone smiled, looking around at the other tired but bright faces. This was their family, Cody thought with a little laugh.

“Okay, kids... let’s see if we can get a little more rest.”

Rex and Soren gave Cody a double, unbalancing hug from behind, Shriek kissed him on the cheek, and Gaia gave his arm a reassuring squeeze before she scooped up Shriek under the arms, tickling him until his buoyant giggles died away to soft murmurs of goodnight and sleep well.

“Can I come with you?” Kali whispered, hooking her hands around his neck.

Cody chuckled. “Sure.”

It wasn’t until he was crawling back into his own bed that Cody realized he had other company. It took some organization but somehow all six of them fit into the bed, all the legs and arms accounted for. Kali was tucked right into Cody’s chest, one of her arms curving around his side where Soren was holding her hand.

“Can... can I call you Papa?” she whispered. “Like Gaia does?”

“Absolutely, ad’ika,” Cody muttered, smiling despite the weariness that was refusing to let him care that Rex’s knee was pressing hard into the back of his neck.

“Okay. Papa,” she said, still sounding teary, but content.

Cody woke a few hours later with thick hair that couldn’t possibly be his own flopped over his face, and several sets of arms wrapped tight around his waist, arms and even one of his legs.

“G... Gaia.” He gingerly reached up and followed the hair covering his face until he found the head it was connected to and tapped it gently. “Gaia. Can you... help?”

Gaia made a sleepy noise, and then laughed quietly. He felt invisible hands gently unfold the skinny arms and small hands that seemed to have strapped him to the bed, followed by soft murmurs of the kids readjusting themselves to new sleeping positions.

She followed him into the kitchen, feet popping as she moved. “We’re going to do the simulation again today.” Gaia almost never questioned him about training ops anymore; she was so on top of everything herself that he had let her take over prepping for for the others.

Cody sighed, feeling the press of worry pull his shoulders down. “Yes.” He turned to her, hoping the concern on her face wasn’t for herself.

“You can’t interfere the way you did last time.”

He snorted. “Rend deserved more than what I gave him.”

She grinned, shaking her head. “I still can’t believe you tripped him into the garbage compactor.”

They both laughed. “Are you nervous about it?” he asked, looping an around around her shoulders. She had put on muscle, which filled Cody with both pride and a sense of loss. She was quickly abandoning the little girl who’d asked to call him “Papa” first and was starting to take on the mantle of adulthood.

“Not for us,” Gaia said with a wicked grin too much like something Obi-Wan might’ve worn, but it quickly fell. “I get nervous you won’t be able to hold back if something goes wrong. You have to let it go wrong.”

Cody curled the arm he had around Gaia’s shoulders inward and held her close. She leaned her head on his shoulder and squeezed his middle. “I am the least of your worries, little one.”

“Right.”

He had to laugh. “Force, child. My brothers would be cheering the mouth on you.”

She chuckled and then sighed. “I wish I’d known them.”

Cody swallowed, suddenly feeling as if his heart was swelling up into his throat. “So do I.” He angled his head so he could look at her. “They’d have loved you. All of you.”

“Rex?”

“Especially Rex.”

“We’ll get our lightsabers after this, won’t we?”

He nodded mutely.

“Will that... bother you?”

Cody leaned back again, eyeing her with confusion. “No. Why would it?” Gaia hesitated, dropping her gaze. “Come on, ad’ika. You can tell me.”

She sighed but didn’t look back up at him. “You used to dream loudly,” Gaia said finally. “You’d say ‘Jedi scum’ and then follow that up almost immediately with ‘Kenobi’.”

The warmth of that had inhabited the conversation was leeched away just that quickly. Cody slumped back against the counter a little with a regretful sigh. “Kenobi... Obi-Wan Kenobi was a friend of mine. We fought in the Clone Wars together.”

Gaia slid away a little, but kept a hand on his arm. She was so good at that, knowing when to be close and when to back off.

“He was the Jedi General that my unit served under. He was brave, noble... an absolute dramatic.” The last word came out with a chuckle on its tail. “He always had to enter a battle with what he called ‘flair’.”

“What happened to him?”

He glanced at Gaia, glad that he couldn’t see her face very well. “I... I killed him.” The shiver in Cody’s voice was alien, a sound unlike anything he’d ever heard come out of his own mouth.

Gaia didn’t say anything, but her grip on his arm tightened a little. Cody took a breath but when he tried to stop talking, more words kept tumbling out.

“I remember he’d just killed General Grievous, the leader of the Separatist army, on Utapau. The fighting was fierce to say the least but we were pushing the clankers back.

K... Kenobi had dropped his lightsaber during the fight with Grievous. Again. I found it, as usual. He rode by on a... on a varactyl. I handed it to him and we were excited about ending the battle quickly.”

Cody didn’t realize he’d started crying until his chest gave an involuntary hitch. Gaia was holding his arm with both hands now, but she still hadn’t said a word.

“He rode off, up a cliffside. My communicator chimed and when I opened it, there was a man I didn’t know looking at me. He wore a robe... I couldn’t see his face. He said my name and then told me to execute an order. Sixty-six.”

Gaia was hugging him again, rubbing circles on his back, and he was shaking so hard that he could barely catch his breath. “I just... I just did it. Like I didn’t know him. Like he was just some soulless clanker...”

“It’s not your fault,” Gaia murmured softly, squeezing his waist hard enough to make him look down at her. “It’s not your fault.”

It shouldn’t be a child comforting a grown man, Cody thought. But if any child could, it was Gaia. The girl was a bastion of quiet strength, and she was able to lend that to those around her. The other kids frequently went to her for advice or for encouragement and Cody had watched them leave her lighter and bettered for their time with her.

“Thank you.” He sniffed loudly, swiping his sleeved arm over his face quickly. “You know how proud you make me, right?”

He heard her smile and felt her duck her head against his shoulder. “I love you, Papa.”

“Love you, too, little one.”

#star wars #sunshine squad #commander cody #captain rex #my oc’s #oc’s #Star Wars oc’s #the clone wars #obi wan kenobi

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paulfwesley · 5 years ago

Text

A Split Second (Part Five) [Bryce Lahela x f!MC

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x f!MC (Dr. Claire King).

Chapter Rating: T

Word Count: 2.1K.

Description: He’s awake. Is this happily ever after? TW: guns, violence, blood. Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4.

Disclaimer: Characters, storyline, and parts of the dialogue are taken from

Pixelberry’s Choices’ Open Heart. They fully own the characters, dialogue, backgrounds, etc. MC Claire King’s background is my own creation, based off of MC in-game’s personality.

Author’s Note: Holy shit I’m so sorry!!! School started and caught up with me but good news!! This is the FINAL part! Holy shit, I’m never writing a series ever again. Expect one-shots from here on out lmfao. Thank you for your patience and I hope you like it!

Tagging: @commander-rahrah @jaydito-tjjd @anotherbeingsworld @shakespeareanwannabe @bitchloveskcbaseball @wisegirl9 @rookie-ramsey @mrsdrakewalkerblog @omgjasminesimone @frenchieswiftie @jamespotterthefirst @elladines @thanialis @lucy-268 @sherrylove @bloominsgsivan @lahellacute @araihc-ce @ItimeisanillusionI @gracehailey @mvalentine

Enjoy!

He’s like this because of you.

Those words circled around and around in Claire’s brain as she stood in the doorway of Bryce’s hospital room. Her feet hovered in the space between his room and the rest of the hospital, but she couldn’t bring herself to step in. She didn’t deserve to be in there, not when she was the reason he had been shot in the first place.

Keiki had already been in to see him and was now getting herself something to eat at Claire’s urging. She had gotten there as soon as the police had cleared the hospital and didn’t leave the waiting room until Harper had confirmed that everything had gone well. That was when Claire told her to finally take care of herself, and Keiki relented.

Claire’s foot moved a bit forward, and when she didn’t gawk at the guilt, she stepped more and more into she was fully in the room. She still hadn’t reached his bedside, but after a bit of prompting from the little voice inside her head that was shrieking at her, she came to a stop next to his bed.

He looked so pale. His lips, always curled up into a smile, were stick thin, almost turning downwards into a grimace in unconscious pain. A nasal tube was stuck in his nose, and despite the terrible circumstances Claire couldn’t help but think that only Bryce could make one of those look cute.

She raised a tentative hand, her fingers brushing his forehead. His skin was cold to the touch, feeling like ice against her burning hand. Claire ran her hand through his hair, the strands tickling the space in between her fingers. She couldn’t count the amount of times she had ruffled Bryce’s hair in the past, but this time felt so close, so intimate, that her lower lip wobbled at the thought and a tear threatened at the corner of her eye.

Biting her lip, Claire touched her forehead to his. He stayed still under her, but she relished in the feeling of his eyelashes kissing hers. The longer she remained like that, the more his skin started to warm up just from the feeling of hers. After a few seconds, she pressed a soft kiss to the spot between his brows. Her lips travelled down the slope of his nose, to the spot above his cupid’s bow, to his chin. She turned her cheek when she got to his neck, the apple of her face running along the hollow of his throat until it rested against his chest, right above his beautiful heart.

Claire had laid her head against Bryce’s chest many times. She loved the sound of his heartbeat, always firm and strong and real under her ear. But now the beats were weak, though she knew they would get stronger with each passing second. Fear clenched her insides at the thought that this wonderful heart of his could have stopped today. It could have ceased entirely, and she would have lost him forever.

Her tears burned her cheeks, falling onto Bryce’s clean hospital gown. Claire squeezed her eyes shut as she hiccupped, her throat burning with despair. Her fingers tangled in the neckline of his gown, holding on for dear life. She knew it was probably unethical, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. This touch was enough to keep her calm, to remind her that Bryce was alive, he had made it out of surgery, he’d live. That he’d taken a bullet for her and still didn’t know how much she loved him.

Bryce’s chest stuttered under her cheek, and Claire raised her head in alarm, her eyes wide. Her gaze immediately went to the monitor next to him, but it was normal. With a furrowed brow, she turned her attention back to Bryce, and was greeted with the sight of his brown ones meeting her blue ones.

Instead of the usual groggy filter covering the eyes of post-op patients, Bryce’s were wild with concern. He struggled to raise his hand off of his bed, reaching out for Claire. “Ar—are you—” he choked out, his throat bobbing uncomfortably from long disuse and the strain of breathing after having surgery on his lungs.

Claire rushed to his side, taking his hand in hers. Her heart leaped when he folded his over hers protectively. “Don’t try to talk,” she instructed.

Bryce licked his cracked lips, but instead of taking her advice he pawed the front of her scrubs. “B—blood—”

“What?” she wondered, then it clicked in her mind. Claire looked down to see that she was still in the blood-stained scrubs she had been in after Wally had shot Bryce and she had done everything she could to help him. She really should have changed before she came to see him, but the thrill of having heard that he had made it through the surgery overwhelmed every rational thought in her brain. Her only thought was that she had to get to his side. Nothing else mattered except Bryce. “Oh,” she said. She sniffled, fingering the material between her thumb and the pads of her forefinger. “I’m fine, I promise. It’s actually your blood.”

“Mine?” he questioned. Claire could see the fingers of his other hand move under the blanket to graze his side. “Right. I was shot.”

“Do… do you remember what happened?” Claire wondered. She tentatively sat down next to him on the bed, careful not to jostle him.

“Some guy…” he recounted, a faraway look in his dazed eyes. Despite the fact that Bryce didn’t seem to be all there yet, his hand maintained a tight grip on hers. “Gun… pointing at you. I didn’t see much else after that.”

Claire choked out a sob. “Why?” she wondered. That finally made Bryce’s eyes focus on her. “Why did you do push me away? That bullet was meant for me.”

“Which is why…” he groaned from the effort of speaking, but he kept going. “I did it.”

“Bryce…” Claire said, her voice impossibly soft. “You could have died.”

“It was you or me,” Bryce said matter-of-factly. “And I knew it had to be you.”

“Bryce, don’t talk like that,” she scolded, her grip tightening on him. “If you had died, I would have died.”

“You would’ve… been fine,” he insisted, his breathing laboured. “You would’ve… been alive. That was all that mattered.”

“Your life matters,” Claire said sternly. “More than mine. If something had happened to you because of me…” A lump lodged in her throat, and more tears slipped down Claire’s cheeks. “I thought I was going to lose you. I thought you were going to die.” With a shaking hand, she cupped his cheek, stroking her thumb along his cheekbone. “And I thought you were going to die without you knowing how much I love you.”

Bryce stilled under her fingertips. “What?” he whispered. “But… Ramsey—”

Claire rolled her eyes despite the fact that they were still shining with tears. “For a smart guy you’re incredibly stupid,” she said. “Bryce, you are the one that I love. I think a part of me always knew it… but just didn’t want to deal with it because I thought we were better as friends. And yeah, Doctor Ramsey had something to do with it, but at the end of the day, it was you who showed up for me, every time it really mattered.” Claire gave him a watery smile. “It’s your arms that comfort me. Your jokes that make me laugh, especially when I shouldn’t. Your stupidly adorable face that makes me want to get up in the morning every day. The thought of you is enough to make me happy.” Her lower lip wobbled. “So when I thought you were going to die, I don’t know how I would have gone on.” She leaned forward so their noses brushed. “You’re everything to me, Bryce Lahela. And I love you.”

“But…” He swallowed thickly. He couldn’t believe that these words were coming out of Claire’s mouth, and directed at him. It was so painful, he couldn’t bear to even feel a bit of it if it didn’t turn out to be wholly true. “What about… your happily ever after?”

With a vulnerable look that bared her soul to him, she said, “My only happily ever after is you.”

Softly, tentatively, Claire touched her lips to his. And it was like coming home.

She never thought she’d get to kiss him again, so she savoured the way his lips fit perfectly to hers, the taste of his mouth, the sweetness of his breath. Everything she loved about him, rolled into a perfect package.

She didn’t want to push things too hard, considering she didn’t know how much pain Bryce was in. It seemed, however, that pain wasn’t enough to stop Bryce. He raised his free hand to her chin, grasping it and tilting it to give him better access to her lips. Every kiss was like finally taking a sip of water after a hot day, every kiss was like a breath of air into his body, every kiss was life-saving.

And if Bryce played his cards right, he’d get these kisses every day for the rest of his life.

When they finally broke away, he brushed his nose against hers. “If it wasn’t clear, I love you too, Claire,” he said, the words touching her cheeks. “You’re the face that I want to come home to every day.”

She grinned, that beautiful smile that he loved. “I would hope so. You took a bullet for me.”

He laughed, though the sound was strained. “I can’t wait to use that every time we get into an argument.”

She cocked a brow. “What?”

“I mean, every time we fight, I can just say ‘I got shot for you’ so you have no choice but to agree,” he said cheekily.

Claire rolled her eyes. “You are such an opportunist.”

“And yet you still love me.”

She smiled softly, like the first glow of the sun peeking through blinds. “Yeah. I do.”

With that, Claire settled her head against Bryce’s chest, where she already heard his heartbeat starting to pick up. A beautiful song, one that she couldn’t wait to memorize. He smelled sterile, but she could already begin to pick up the scent that was so sweet, so delicious, so distinctly Bryce that it brought a smile to her face. Her hand laid on his chest, brushing the spot where he had been shot. She knew there would probably be a scar, but once she let him know that scars were sexy, he’d definitely be less insecure. And then she’d kiss it, over and over. It would be a wordless affirmation: I trust you. I want you. I love you. She’d be happy to say those words over and over, until their wedding day, the birth of their children, the day they died. But for today, she’d hold him and be thankful that he was alive, that he’d get to reach those milestones with her. She would be grateful that she owned Bryce Lahela’s heart, and that he owned hers.

Bryce wrapped his strong arms around her as she nestled into his embrace. Her breath tickled his collarbone, but instead of being bothered by it, it reminded him of the nights they shared. The calm, the crazy, the crying, but they always ended the same: with Claire resting against his heart, looking relaxed and happy and safe. It brought him a sense of comfort, a feeling that was purely home. And he knew; he knew that he could go to sleep every night, just like this. With the woman of his dreams cuddled against him, with his grip on her like he would be a fool to let her go. And he wasn’t going to. He would never let her go. He’d hold her hand for the rest of this life, and then the next, and then the next. For however long they had together. And Bryce hoped that they’d have a long, long time together. But for today, he’d hold her and be grateful that this beautiful woman had seen past what everybody sees: a playboy, a pretty boy, the boy everyone chooses second. And he’d be grateful that she was the one that chose him first.

A split second. Sometimes that was all it took to take a life. To contemplate your life. To make you realize what really matters. To wake up. To realize. To love.

So say it. With your whole chest, with every ounce of power you can put behind it, at the top of your lungs. Say it.

And you’ll end up right where you belong.

#open heart #playchoices #bryce lahela #bryce lahela x mc #open heart fanfiction #open heart fanfic #bryce lahela x mc fanfic #alinas fanfic #my fanfic #choices: stories you play

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