#this chapter is angsty

[kauriart]

Paragon, Renegade, Pilot Chapter 3

A NSFW Mass Effect fic | Joker/Kaidan/f!Shepard | Read it on AO3

Ashley dies when they raze Saren’s base on Virmire down to metal and scorched earth.

And… Ashley dies when Shepard leaves her to die.

Nobody thinks of it that way, except for Shepard, but she locks herself in her quarters the whole night after it happens and won’t talk to Kaidan or Hackett or even Anderson. She sends a single transmission to Ashley’s family, unwilling to wait for the death notice to properly clear official channels. And then, nothing.

The whole crew is in a state of shock, and they’re heavy five Salarians who aren’t much better off. Joker has to keep reminding himself that Virmire was an overwhelming victory because judging by the state of the crew, you’d think it was anything but.

This time of day the mess is usually packed. It’s the noisiest place on the ship, full of mediocre food, low-stakes card games, shop talk, and gossip. Today there’s only Kaidan, freshly showered and shaved, hair combed into neat waves because the entire world could be ending but he’d never show up for duty less than regulation, no matter how wilted and raw he was on the inside.

“Hey,” Joker says. 

Kaidan grimaces.

“Yeah,” Joker sighs and slides awkwardly into one of the open seats at the large community table.

Kaidan has a huge plate in front of him. Extra rations for the extra calories it takes to power biotics. If he isn’t on a mission, you can usually find Kaidan maintaining his guns or his armor, or eating. Only he isn’t actually eating, just swirling a spoon through his otherwise untouched plate of food, looking miserable.

“You okay?”

“I’m alive,” Kaidan says after a moment, stabbing his spoon into his food. “I’m not sure I have the right to be unhappy right now.”

Kaidan doesn’t sound happy. He sounds miserable.

Joker clasps his hands together to keep himself from reaching for Kaidan. It’s the first time Joker’s talked to him alone since realizing that his crush is more than a crush. Since realizing he is well and truly fucked. He still dances around the shape of his feelings, even in his own mind. But looking at Kaidan now is a bit like the first time he got his hands on the flight controls of a ship and realized the way it made him feel was a forever kind of thing. 

“Yeah, you can be. Ash was your friend too,” Joker reminds him gently. 

“Maybe she shouldn’t have been.” Kaidan looks away, profile all sharp lines and misery. 

“Kaidan—”

“I’m sorry,” he says, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “I’m sorry. I just— Shepard’s at the breaking point.”

“I know,” Joker says. Feros. Noveria. Virmire. Three horrors in rapid succession, each one drawing them closer to Saren, each one painting the shape of a picture so much bigger than a single rogue Spectre who needs bringing to justice. 

“It’s going to get worse, Joker.” 

“I know,” Joker closes his eyes.

Kaidan is quiet for a long while. Then he pushes the tray of uneaten food away. “You have to talk to her, Joker. I can’t. Not…” His fists clench on the table, knuckles white and sharp, for a moment they flare blue. A little burst of biotic distress. “Not about this.”

Joker raises his brows, surprised. Kaidan never loses control of his biotics, not even small slips like this; a blue shimmer that doesn’t even make it up to his elbows. 

The Alliance is weird, they want biotic soldiers, but then never seem to know what to do with them after. For a while, they wouldn’t let human biotics serve on a ship, too afraid of their potential for destruction — the very trait they coveted. They used to treat them as little more than walking bombs. It’s better now, but the love-hate nature of the Alliance’s relationship with biotics endures; there’s still too much red tape and bigotry, too many crews with empty complaints, too little understanding of biotic mechanisms, and zero tolerance for slip-ups.

Kaidan makes a little sound of dismay, looking at the swirl of blue energy surrounding his hands. “Shepard needs to trust herself if we have any chance at this at all. But I don’t even know if she did the right thing.” Kaidan looks up, eyes dark and haunted. “She needs to hear—  And I can’t, and—” 

“Hey,” Joker interrupts softly. “Hey hey hey. There’s not a single person on this ship who doesn’t think the Commander made the only call she could.”

“Ash. How can it have been?” And Kaidan sounds so damn lost.

Ah, fuck it.

Joker slides a hand across the table and wraps it around one of Kaidan’s glowing fists. Kaidan startles at the touch — not many people try to feel-up activated biotics after all — but he doesn’t pull his hand away. Kaidan’s biotics feel warm and fizzy beneath Joker’s palm. They hold for a moment, then advance, rising up to envelop Joker’s entire hand.

It’s — Joker doesn’t know what it is, but it feels strangely intimate, to be caught in the flow of Kaidan’s biotic powers. Despite everything, his heart starts to pound like crazy. They sit just like that for a moment in silence, and then Kaidan’s biotics fizzle out, and Joker pulls back, fisting his hand against his knee.

“It was the right thing because Shepard loves you,” Joker says, voice whisper-low, cracking a small, lopsided smile as Kaidan’s expression shifts into startled alarm. “You're right, we need her for whatever happens next. But you can’t expect her to forgive herself if you don’t forgive yourself .”

Kaidan blows out a long, hard breath, thinking. Always thinking. His brow scrunches up. Joker knows he’d be pacing around if he wasn’t sitting. All his life, Joker has always thought with his hands, taping through flight screens, or fidgeting with them in his lap. Kaidan's more of a man of action, and always thinks with his feet.

“Shepard’s not the only one at a breaking point,” Joker says quietly, pushing Kaidan’s tray closer to him. “Look. I’ll talk to Shepard even though she’s probably gonna shoot me. But only if you take three big bites.” He taps the edge of Kaidan’s plate. “You need to eat, or you’ll give yourself a migraine.”

Kaidan looks down, surprised. His brow furrows, but he picks up his spoon and eats — three big bites and more. Tucking in with a fervor that speaks to how much the mission on Virmire took out of him physically.

Joker heads to the lift to be alarmingly insubordinate to his armed and angry Commander.

“Oh fuck. She’s totally gonna shoot me,” Joker mutters to himself as he punches in for the upper deck and straightens his cap, a weird mix of spiky emotions churning in his gut.

The Alliance chain of command is weird sometimes. Pressly’s the head of the flight crew, but Joker’s the head of the ship , and he can freely access any area of the Normandy — including the Commander’s quarters — unless the Commander has specifically requested him be kept out. He’s one of two people with default access to Shepard’s cabin.

The Commander’s quarters are on the topmost deck. They’re compact, wedged between an awkward bit of space beneath the coolant system and the shielding unit. All the doors on the ship are air-tight and double-hulled, so there’s no way to knock, but Joker still stands awkwardly in front of the sealed doors, convincing himself to go in unannounced.

It’s not against ship etiquette. Access is a binary thing. You have it, or you don’t, and if you have it, you’re allowed there. He’s just... never actually tried to see if he’s been barred from this space. He never even thought to try.

Visions of Shepard in her underwear dance around in his head. It’s not a lewd vision –– he’s plenty familiar with those –– just one that makes him panic now that he’s about to enter her cabin. He flexes his hand, open, then closed, then open again. “Stop stalling you idiot,” he mutters to himself and taps the door pad hesitantly, touch nearly too light to register.

Nearly.

Shepard’s doors slide open with a soft pneumatic hiss and a spill of soft, thumpy background music. Some Turian techno group, he thinks.

“Uh… Commander?” She probably heard the door open, but Joker still calls out hesitantly as he steps into the room. 

Shepard is on the couch, hunched over and staring at a holo of Saren’s head as it rotates slowly around. She’s still in her battle armor, ceramic plating scorched, and stained, and pockmarked where she took gunfire when her shields were down. Her helmet is off and lying suspiciously in the debris of broken shelving and shattered safety glass.

Joker carefully picks his way around the mess near the couch, not even bothering to brush away the scatter of safety glass before he sits. The pieces of glass look sharp, but aren’t, edges engineered to shatter at angles safe enough to run his thumb against. He plucks a piece off the table and rolls it across his fingers, thinking.

Virmire had been awful from start to finish. From the plan to split up Ash from the rest of the team; to the stand-off with Wrex; to the destruction of the partial cure for the genophage; to the revelation of Sovereign the Reaper and the reckoning to come. It was almost poetic when their forces had been overrun — nearly simultaneously, at opposite ends of the base, with an armed, homemade nuclear bomb between them.

And Shepard, caught halfway between two stranded crewmates. 

Joker takes a deep breath. “Ash wasn’t your—”

“Don’t,” she interrupts, voice shaking. “Finish. That. Fucking sentence.”

“Fault,” Joker says unflinchingly.

Shepard glares at him. And it’s a good glare. Focused and steady. Greater men have withered in the face of that glare. Smarter men. Men with better senses of self-preservation.

Oh yeah, he’s definitely getting shot.

Shepard breaks eye contact first with a muttered “Damnit, Joker, ” and snatches her helmet back up again looking like she’d love nothing more than to wreck the rest of her quarters.

Joker slides closer on the couch, gesturing to make it clear that he isn’t going anywhere.

Then he waits.

“It was different this time,” Shepard says after several long moments. “Different than with Jenkins, I mean. After… after he died, I played that firefight over in my head about a thousand times.”

Joker knows that death hadn’t been easy on her either. It was Normandy’s first death, the first crewman lost under her command. But Shepard had been distracted in the aftermath — infected by that Prothean beam, visions nearly driving her mad before her mind started to make sense of it all. There hadn’t been much time to mourn.

Shepard drags her fingers through the broken glass on the coffee table, sketching out a map she keeps in her mind; the assault path they’d taken on Eden Prime.

“If we’d been in an offensive formation around this turn; if Jenkins had been clocking the skyline, not the field; if I’d been two steps ahead of him or one step behind; if the husk that popped up had taken three shots or less to put down; if Jenkins had angled his body just eighteen degrees more to the left…” Shepard runs her hands through her hair, a flash of bitterness in her expression. “Nine times out of ten, he survives. “Ninety-nine out of a hundred, maybe..."

"Bad luck," Joker says, mouth twisting into something that resembles a smile, but isn't.

"Yeah. I can accept bad luck. I don’t like it, but I know that it happens.” Shepard turns back to Saren’s holo, staring as though it might hold the answers. “But Ashley…” She takes a slow, deep breath, steadying herself. “If it was her or Kaidan, there’s no world where she makes it out alive.”

Joker frowns and shakes his head. “Yeah, but. You didn’t know you were choosing between them. I was on the comm. I heard. Ashley said she could hold.”

“I knew she couldn’t.” Shepard’s voice is as sharp as a hammer-strike. “I knew it.”

“Kaidan had the bomb. You couldn’t––”

“It wasn’t about the bomb, Joker.” She raises her head slowly, expression bitter. “I didn’t— I didn’t even remember the bomb. I just chose Kaidan.”

It leaves Joker breathless, how easily and unapologetically she says it. Shepard pulls no punches, not ever. Not even the ones she aims at herself.

She takes a shaky breath. “I chose Kaiden because I love him. I put the whole mission in jeopardy because I love him. I risked the lives of everyone on this ship because I love him. I let Ashley die because I love him. That’s why the Alliance doesn’t want you falling in love with crewmates," her fist slams down on the impression of Eden Prime, scattering safety glass everywhere. "Because it’s stupid, and dangerous, and selfish, and there is nothing you can say to—”

“I’m in love with Kaidan,” Joker says quietly, even as his stomach does a series of complex flips as his brain catches up with his mouth because what the fuck. He’s never said it out loud before, never even let himself think it. It’s terrifying. He wants to claw the words out of the air and tell Shepard it was just a bad joke. But it’s true, and he doesn’t know how to lie to her face. Not now. Not about this.

Joker takes a deep breath and lets it out hard on a little, silent laugh. “So all those terrible things you are… I guess, you know, me too. We’re both stupid, and dangerous, and selfish, and Ash’s death still isn’t your fault.”

Shepard looks stunned.

It’s a little gratifying to see in a woman who’s always ten steps ahead of everything at all times. Joker can count on one finger the number of times he’s actually managed to surprise Shepard. At least he still has unpredictability in his favor.

Joker adjusts his cap with one hand. “I dunno, maybe the Alliance is right, but… I’m not sure you had much choice in the matter. I didn’t,” he laughs shakily under his breath. “Don’t. I don’t.”

Something in Shepard’s expression eases. She smiles. It's so slight most people would miss it. But Joker isn’t most people, and he knows Shepard’s face better than he cares to admit.

He clears his throat. “And you can check the flight logs if you want,” he says. “But uh… I think I was already taking the Normandy back to Kaidan when you gave the order.”

He’s getting shot and court-martialed.

Cool. 

“I was. I mean, I know I was. Even if you’d wanted the Normandy to turn around — to get Ashley instead. I mean, there might have been time, maybe. Maybe. But the ship wasn’t in position. I’m good, but I dunno.” Joker shoves his hands in his pockets trying to imagine it.

The Geth troops were already swarming, and the plan to rescue both Kaidan and Ashley was vanishing by the second. Geth troopers, shock troopers, and snipers, as well as husks and Krogran warriors already littered the ground. A thick carpet of troops that Shepard and her team had to cut through again and again to make progress through the base. Then there were the threats to the Normandy itself; AA guns, and rocket drones, and Geth destroyers who could juggle targets in the air and on the ground.

Geth are different from organic enemies. Quicker. Emotionless. Off-puttingly decisive. You can’t goad them into anything or rely on fear or miscommunication to make them scatter. They’re like a single enemy with many fists that can terrorize airships and ground soldiers alike. And something had shifted on the field that day, some signal Joker wasn’t privy to but understood all the same. They knew about the nuke Kaidan had planted, and they were coming in full force, and at speed.

At that point in the conflict, Joker was farther away from Ashley than he should have been, already drifting towards Kaidan despite Shepard’s orders. More distance, more time to get there. More enemies in the way to derail things. If Shepard had gone to Ashley instead there’s a chance he would have had to pick Shepard up en route, before they'd had a chance to sync up.

There’s a chance that both of them — Ashley and Kaidan — would have died. 

Joker grimaces.

Shepard looks down at her hands for a moment, then back up again. “Do you think Ash knew?”

“That I love Kaidan? Probably not. I mean, I didn’t even know until just before Virmire. Not really. Not entirely.” Joker grimaces because it seems so fucking obvious now. It was obvious forever ago. “That you love Kaidan? Oh yeah. Everyone knows.”

Shepard groans and covers her eyes. 

“Really?” Joker smiles, shaking his head ruefully. “C'mon, Shepard. No one can be in the same room with the two of you and not see it.” His smile turns sympathetic as Shepard hunches further into herself. “You guys try real hard to hide it though, I’ll give you that. You just…” he laughs, the sound more genuine this time. “You suck at it.”

Shepard glares at him through her fingers, less heat, more annoyance.

“Uh, you suck at it, Commander.” Joker corrects himself, grinning. “And Ash? I don’t… I don’t think she’d mind that you picked Kaidan solely out of love. She was a romantic at heart.” There’s a piece of glass caught in Shepard’s hair, a diamond glinting in a sea of red. He reaches for it, and plucks it out, unthinking. “Besides,” he says quietly. “Everything else aside. Kaidan is worth loving. Take it from someone who knows.” 

For a moment, there’s something in Shepard’s expression that’s completely… he doesn’t know what. He doesn’t know how to describe the look on her face.

“Joker…”

“Hey. Don’t worry about me. The Normandy’s the love of my life, Shepard.” Joker smiles, and it’s only a little forced. “I’m happy where I am.”

And it must be true, because he can’t lie to her, after all. 

Shepard takes a breath, mouth opening to say something else, but all at once they're bathed a harsh red light as the holo of Saren’s profile blinks out, switching feeds, and it’s just the strange elongated lines of his ship, Sovereign.

Joker’s always hated that ship. It never made any sort of aeronautic sense. The balance just looks off, and the drivecore placement is irrational, and the thing has legs and an ass, for fucks sake. What kind of a ship has an ass?

Well, now they know.

A sentient old-God hell-ship, that’s what.

A Reaper.

Joker and Shepard look at each other, whatever she was about to say is eclipsed by the enormity of what lies before them. They have to get the council to agree to prepare for a war with all-or-nothing stakes; an invasion of Reapers set to eliminate every advanced race in the galaxy.

And then they have to win that war.

“Shepard, I—”

The cabin doors slide open, and Kaidan steps in. He looks around in surprise, eyeing the destruction in the room, and makes a beeline for Shepard. 

“Kaidan,” she says.

“I’m here.”

It’s so simple. Those two little words are so quiet and reverent that Joker blinks, stunned. He’s never heard Kaidan use that tone of voice before.

“Your hands,” Kaidan breathes.

The side of Shepard’s hands are bruised and bloodied. Joker had assumed Shepard had used her helmet to smash the shelving.

She’d used her fists.

Shepard just shrugs a single shoulder, the motion ragged with exhaustion. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Let me see,” Kaidan holds out his hand, and Shepard slides hers into it. Simple. Neat. But Kaidan’s not looking at her hand, he’s looking at her.  

Shepard curls her hand around the tips of Kaidan’s fingers, just a little. A tiny signal of distress. 

Kaidan hesitates for a heartbeat, then tugs Shepard forward half a step, folding her into his arms. Fully armored, she must weigh a ton, but Kaidan is rock steady as she leans into him with a quiet sound. Their foreheads drift together, bright copper touching coal-black waves.

Joker turns away. Neither of them needs him anymore, not like they need each other. And he wants to be at Normandy’s helm when they reach Citadel space. But as he walks out of the cabin, he can hear the sound of Shepard beginning to cry, and Kaidan murmuring gentle reassurances, voice low and rough and loving.

The door slides shut behind him.

Joker leans against it hand pressed against the ache in his chest. Sense of longing expanding, taking up too much space inside him, making it hard to think and even harder to breathe. Besides it sits something that feels more like panic.

What the fuck was he thinking?

He told Shepard he loved Kaidan.

He told Shepard he loved Kaidan.

He could have thought of anything–– anything else to say.

He told Shepard he loved Kaidan, but he didn’t tell Shepard he loved her, too.

“Fuck,” Joker mutters. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Joker doesn’t know how long he stays pressed against the door of Shepard’s cabin, hurt and horrified. The pain is like a broken rib, jabbing into him with every breath, every heartbeat, but completely invisible, no matter how hard you look.

Just like he is.

Just like he’ll always be.

[blondecorrespondence]

Chapter 9 of A Serpent's Heart, A Lion's Pride up now <3

read on AO3

[outer-andromeda]

"He's mad" yeah no shit you sprayed him with bug spray and called him a rodent what were you expecting

[chariel-raine]

After all, I want to be wanted

Is that so wrong?

Alts under read more:

[ferahntics]

Stars? 🌟⭐

(sneaking in Bobby from @palettepainter 's DB AU cause Of Course)

EDIT: Part 2 here!

I'm imagining that since he can remember what they used to read in the orphanage, he retains bits and pieces of his memories from his components, some more than others.

[half-a-life-left]

spamton puts some knowledge to good use

[heywriters]

Once again, you can be an English major. a seasoned journalist. an established author. a famed literary critic...and you will still scratch your head over the junk that makes it big. Public opinion has no worth. Just write what you want.

"But I don't want to share something that isn't perfect" why not? everyone else does.

[galaghiel]

Both Jack and Maddie stared at him, speechless. Silence blanketed the lab, everything but Danny’s strangled crying, his hand pressed over the muzzle as if to hide it. No- to hold it still, to still the dozen wicked barbs that were digging into his tongue, probably ripping it with each sob.

a little sketch of @liketolaugh-writes amazing one-shot fanfic that you can read here

[spexirou]

it’s that cute dogboy and ramb

[buckytakethewheel]

it's been a long, long time [part 1]

Summary: Sergeant Bucky Barnes from the 107th gets injured a lot. And when he does, there's only one nurse he lets touch him. Pairing: 40s!Bucky Barnes x Female Nurse!Reader Warnings/tags: Bucky is injured (shoulder gunshot, not very detailed because this is my first time working with medical terms); unrequited crush (for now and only if you kinda squint); no use of Y/N; unbeta'd Word count: 2.5k Notes: so, I don't know how many years after i last wrote a thing...... i am back to writing things! i've had this idea for a while. i apologize for typos, i wrote this in a couple of hours and really wanted to get this first part out there asap :) hope you guys like it!

War breeds misery. You are of the opinion that it could never bring anything good; it won't even bring peace, not a real one. War breeds misery and soldiers, who go back home broken and bruised, and not just physically. Many of them don’t even return home. Those who do, leave a part of them behind.

But you’re a silly little girl, and you had read once in a book that the best thing a girl could be in this world was a beautiful little fool. So you spoke to no one about your disdain for war. No one would want to hear a pretty woman talk about it, anyway. And you did your part, as everyone else in the country did.

You were a nurse back home. Lived to see too many people die on your hands, many of them from stupid, small things. When the war comes, you tell your family goodbye and you’re sent off to England. Things are worse, there. Your knowledge doesn’t feel enough. Every week, more people die than you could have ever saved in a lifetime working at the local hospital.

Today, however, there has yet to be death on your hands. You're tending to a wounded soldier who's not going to die from his injury. Some shrapnel lodged in his arm, but by the time you finish disinfecting it, he'll be good to go and fight some more. Probably die another day, from another injury. Maybe in your hands, maybe in another nurse’s.

You’re chatting casually with the soldier while you clean his wound when you recognize a very familiar, particularly loud voice in the tent.

"No one's gonna have a look at it unless it's her." The voice hisses through clenched teeth, and it couldn't sound more annoyed while, simultaneously, annoying.

Sergeant Barnes has been a difficult pain in your side at camp. Whenever he's wounded, he'll come crawling to you — says you're the most capable nurse in camp, won't let any other nurses tend to his wounds, but you know he's being impossible on purpose.

The first time Sergeant Barnes was brought to the field station, he had been near a loud explosion and lost part of his hearing for a few hours. He was terrified it would be permanent. He landed on your hands and you watched over him, did some tests, didn’t find anything particularly wrong that would dictate permanent damage.

Next time, a blast injury to the leg. Jessica, another nurse, was supposed to tend to him. He asked for you. You weren’t busy with any other soldier, so you obliged.

From the third time on, it was like clockwork. No other nurse could touch him - it was either you, or no one, to the point the Captain once walked into the tent already yelling your name. “Nurse, check out Barnes immediately!”

It doesn’t take a lot of brains to figure Sergeant Barnes out. He thinks you’re pretty, and this is his way of flirting his way to you. And you’re not blind - he’s a handsome man. But you’re not looking to find romance in the middle of war, where he could leave tomorrow and never return. No, you wouldn’t go down that path.

Back to the present, you excuse yourself from the soldier you're taking care of, and you walk in the direction of the Sergeant's voice. Barnes is half-sitting on a chair, shirt covered in blood around the right shoulder area, and Nurse Beth is giving him an exasperated look as she tries to convince him she is just as capable as anyone else in here. "Sergeant Barnes, you were shot, I need to take a look at—"

"No." He interrupts immediately, his voice stern. Then, he sees you and his expression lightens up almost in a second, a boyish grin settling on his lips.

"Beth," you say softly. "Could you please finish tending to Corporal Johnson? It’s a simple injury. I’ll care for Sergeant Barnes."

Beth seems happy to run from this hell-given situation, and she leaves without making a fuss. You approach Barnes with a stern look. "Sergeant. You cannot keep doing this. All nurses at camp are perfectly capable of tending to all your wounds."

"None have your hands," he says with a stupid grin. "And I thought we agreed you'd call me Bucky."

You raise an eyebrow while you find the necessary tools for treating his wound on a nearby cart. "We didn't agree to anything. You made a request, and I ignored it."

"Shouldn't be ignoring Sergeant's orders," Barnes says, and he sounds way too smug for his own good. You'd like to slap him out of it, but that wouldn't be much of a good idea.

"Thankfully, I'm not a soldier, so I'm not under your orders," you reply, and that seems to throw him off balance for a minute before he regains his composure and is smirking again. You wish that smirk didn’t mess you up as much as it did. It would make this easier if you were a little more impermeable to his obvious flirting.

"Lord, I missed your quick wit. Had to get myself shot to find an excuse to come talk to you again," he answers, and something about his tone really feels like he's being way too honest.

You ignore that specific remark.

"Relax, Sergeant. Let me take a look at your wound." You put on a pair of gloves before you slowly move his shirt down. On his shoulder, there's a small bullet wound, the skin slightly pushed in with a ring of red around it and some gunpowder staining the skin. On his back, there's an exit wound — bigger, tissue pushed out, an irregular shape. You hum in quiet approval, like the sight isn’t as bad as all the blood on his shirt would have led you to believe. "Good news, the bullet came out and it didn't leave fragments behind. We just have to disinfect the wound and patch you up, and you'll be ready to go."

"So I won't have to stay overnight for observation?" Barnes almost sounds hopeful, but you shake your head no with a chuckle. "I really need to learn to get shot in more dangerous places. What could get me killed? Femoral artery?"

"Sergeant Barnes," you call out, and there's a clear hint of scolding in your tone. "Don't joke about things like that. I deal with a lot of serious injuries every day. They're ugly and nasty, and worst of all — they really do get you killed."

"You could stop me from being reckless if you just told me I am your favorite patient," he answers, smug again, like he's just downplaying your scolding. "And do I have to beg to get you to call me Bucky? I'll do it, I'm not against the prospect of getting on my knees for you." The double entendre in his last sentence isn't lost on you, but you ignore it. Mostly. Your body does not, because your cheeks turn a light shade of red, and Bucky absolutely notices. Oh, he notices. Bastard even sits a little more upright on his chair, eyes trailing over your face.

"I can't have favorite patients," you say, and then you add, like something in you has cracked a little, "—Bucky."

That seems to crack a bit of his smug exterior, too. Like, somehow, he wasn’t truly expecting you to actually follow suit and call him by his preferred nickname. And now he thinks that name will never sound as pretty in anyone else’s mouth.

"I won't tell if you won't," he murmurs to you, and it sounds a little too sinful to be appropriate. You ignore it. Lord, you're doing a whole lot of ignoring when Bucky is around.

"Lean back. I'll take care of that wound now," you say, trying to sound as calm and professional as you can. Your fingers work masterfully over the wound, careful, disinfecting with alcohol and cleaning the blood with a white, soft rag before you give him a pitiful look. "The stitches will sting a bit, Sergeant Barnes."

He gives you a mischievous grin. "Glad I have your pretty face to keep me distracted, then."

There's a certain soft touch in the way your hands work on stitching his skin, a softer touch than you would normally use with the other soldiers. No, you would never admit that Bucky was your favorite patient, but you can't help but have a certain tenderness in the way you take care of him. You're not sure he realizes it. But you also have a very specific sense of humor, and you don't try to hide when you pinch his skin a little harsher than necessary the first time the needle goes through the skin.

Bucky doesn't make a full noise, but he hisses through his teeth. "I thought my pretty face was distracting you," you comment, clearly amused. He squints his eyes at you, like he's realizing you did it on purpose.

“Didn’t think you had a mean streak in you.” He says back, but after a moment of slight sting in his body, he’s grinning at you. Again. “I like it.” Is all he says before he goes quiet, watching you work.

You finish the stitches relatively fast, and then you cover them with some gauze, protecting them from possible infection.

“You’re all done, Sergeant.” You say, patting him on his good shoulder. He doesn’t seem to appreciate how you’re back to calling him that instead of Bucky. You open the medicine cabinet and grab a bottle of pain killers before handing them to him. “These will help you manage the pain. In a normal situation, I would give you some antibiotics, but we are trying to ration those for more serious situations. I think you’ll heal just fine. In any case-” A deliberate pause, because you know the next part is going to elicit a reaction from him. “-I would recommend you come in every day to change the bandage, so we can keep it clean and lower the risk of infection. At least for the first week.”

And you were right about the reaction, because Bucky is smiling, ear to ear, as he grabs the bottle from your hand. His fingers brush against yours when he does, the touch a little rough, and they linger on your skin for a little longer than necessary.

“So I will have an excuse to come see you every day.” He says, like he’s suddenly a kid who has been offered the biggest piece of candy in the store.

“It’s not an excuse. You do need to come in every day to change the bandage. I would prefer if you let all the nurses take care of you, though.”

“No.” He answers way too quickly, and his expression is not hard, but there’s an uncomfortable shift to it. It’s quieter when he speaks again. “Just you. If that’s okay.”

If that’s okay.

Well. It’s not like you mind it. You find it strangely affectionate that since June, the first time Sergeant Barnes stepped foot in this camp, there is a sense of routine and normalcy to your life. Soldiers come and go, almost too many different faces to remember. And then, a few days every week, in comes Sergeant Barnes. The one face that is always the same in the mess. His ocean blue eyes, staring at you like you’re God sent in this hell of a place. Hands that sometimes try to reach half-way and see if your own cross the rest of the way. You never did. Even though a part of you wanted to.

“Okay.” You say, after a moment of silence that definitely stretched too long. “Let whichever nurse receives you know that I gave you the okay to ask for me specifically.”

He seems content with that answer. Slowly, he stands up from his chair and dresses the half-destroyed shirt over his torso again, the blood dry and brown staining his right shoulder. He slides the bottle of pills inside the back pocket of his pants and, for half a second, there’s a look in his eyes. A shift, something softer than the usual flirting. Inquiring. There’s a question behind his eyes.

“We are having a get together tomorrow night.” He finally says when he figures he is tired of holding it back. “Bonfire, stupid music, the whole lot. A part of the unit is returning to camp and we like to welcome back the survivors with some good times.” It takes him a second to continue, and it feels like he’s reaching for the right words. You feel slightly uncomfortable, but you don’t make anything of it. “You should join us.”

Of course you know what he’s talking about. It isn’t the first time, and surely won’t be the last, that the soldiers do this. It’s good for morale, they say, and you think you believe them. Anytime soldiers come back, a lot of dead come with them. But the living are there by their side, dreading, seeing their future laying in a gurney next to them. They need to be reminded of a little happiness, even if fleeting.

Nurses will usually be in attendance, too - they look pretty while they sit on soldier’s laps, singing some happy songs about better times. They dance together, make them happy for a night. Some of them will disappear into the nearby woods for an hour or two. Come back with their hair disheveled and their clothes messed up.

You don’t usually go. Not because you’re not invited - in fact, you didn’t need the Sergeant’s invitation, and you know his words mean something closer to ‘I’d like to see you there’ - but because the fleeting happiness didn’t particularly work for you. Never in your life did you feel as hollow as you do these days, working to save people who could be killed tomorrow, or the day after, in an instant. It feels pointless and stupid to sing along to pretty little tunes while people are dying for things you don’t defend.

Sergeant Barnes says your name and you’re brought back to your senses, realizing you were a little lost in thought.

“Sergeant Barnes-” You begin, and in a second, his hand wrapping around one of your wrists. It’s soft and quick and you are a little startled because he’s never been this direct. Of course you have noticed him staring, of course you’ve heard his thousand different ways of flirting and saying you have a pretty face - but the touch was new. He never touched you before.

“Bucky. Please. I mean it.” Your stomach does a flip at the way he speaks, because does Sergeant Barnes - well, Bucky - sound… vulnerable? “You don’t have to say yes right now, but, maybe, don’t say no yet?” Hopeful. Vulnerable and hopeful.

“Bucky-,” you start, finally giving into his request fully. He smiles at that. “I will think about it.”

And you do. Tonight, when you go back to the sleeping tent and you lay in the hard mattress, under the cold sheets, you think about sitting by the bonfire with Bucky by your side.

[sugarlover1225]

Angsty suselle sprite thing I made….

Toby what happened in that room during snowgrave I NEED to know…

[aca-4]

Wasn't sure what to even draw first with all the stuff happening in the new chapters. But I've been meaning to draw these two ever since we got a little sneak peek at their designs.

Was not expecting Rouxls to be thrown into the mix though lmao

Anyway, bonus sketch that ended up not staying a sketch:

[mijucats]

baby hotline

[spr1ngpvrinbwunnie]

Headcanon: Comforting Harley Sawyer When He’s Overwhelmed

Notes: Soooo I guess I lowkey come back to the ppt fandom? Idk but yeah i'll write more about Harley ofc and those req.

I feel like I just skipped a whole new season when I left for month like did I missed smth lmao

He doesn’t snap. Not at first. Not in public.

When the pressure mounts, he tightens control: of his tone, of his posture, of the cadence of his speech.

The more overwhelmed he gets, the more clinical he sounds—measured syllables, cold precision. But if you’ve been around him long enough, you know what it means when he’s too composed:

When his pen taps the same rhythm over and over.

When he cleans his glasses a little too often.

When he doesn’t even notice you entering the lab.

Because behind that carefully constructed shell, something is tearing.

The Root of It

It’s not guilt.

It’s not regret.

It’s resentment. Exhaustion. Disillusionment.

He’s burned himself down to the bone for this company.

Sacrificed morals. Friendships. Health.

All for what? A fleeting nod from the Board? The empty promise of progress?...

He won’t say it aloud. But somewhere in that overworked, fractured mind is a younger version of himself still desperately hoping they’ll look at him and say:

“You’ve done well.”

“You were right.”

“We’re proud of you.”

But they don’t. And now the failures—real or imagined—feel like his fault, and if he just works harder, sacrifices more, maybe… maybe...

You're the only person who doesn't flinch when his voice tightens like a blade.

The only one who doesn’t fear his silence.

The only one who doesn't try to fix the data or suggest another method or scold him for skipping meals.

You just—sit.

Sometimes across from him.

Sometimes beside him.

Sometimes your hand quietly finds his when you know he won’t swat it away.

You don’t fill the silence. You give him something no one else ever does: space without judgment.

“They don’t deserve you,” you murmur once, your voice a whisper in the low hum of the lab equipment.

“...But I see you.”

And that’s when he finally looks up. Not with fury or arrogance—but with that rare, frayed, flickering look of someone who’s dangerously close to breaking.

It’s not dramatic.

He doesn't scream.

He doesn't collapse.

Instead, he says, “I have optimized every procedure to its most efficient configuration, and it’s still not enough.”

His voice shakes. Not much—but enough. Enough to hurt.

So you reach out, slowly, fingers brushing his. And when he doesn’t pull away, you hold him like he’s something breakable. Because in this moment, he is.

“You’re more than enough, Harley.”

“You don’t have to prove it to them. Not to anyone.”

His eyes close. He doesn’t believe you—not really. But something inside him loosens. Just a little.

Afterward, he doesn't thank you. Not with words. But he takes the rest of the day off for the first time in months. You walk out of the lab together.

Later, you find a small note tucked into your things. Not signed. Barely legible. But unmistakably his:

> Thank you. That… helped.

Don’t tell anyone I said that.

And from then on, when the weight returns—and it always does—he doesn't face it alone.

Because now, he lets you see him.

Even when he's at his worst.

Even when the world doesn't.

Especially then.

If he comforting you back? (Poorly... but with everything he’s got)

You don’t break down often.

Not in front of people.

But something must’ve finally snapped—stress, loss, fear, burnout—and Harley notices.

Not because you tell him.

(You never do.)

But because you left your coffee untouched.

Because you didn’t correct his misquoted chemical compound.

Because your eyes didn’t spark when he insulted Eddie.

To most, those things mean nothing.

But to Harley?

They’re red flags waving violently inside his carefully categorized brain.

---

🥀 At First, He Panics Silently

He’s not built for this.

Harley knows how to dissect emotions, not navigate them. He can explain the chemical shifts that happen when you cry—but comfort you?

There’s no formula for that. No protocol.

Worse, he hates feeling helpless. Especially when it comes to you.

So he tries… his way.

“You’re behaving… inefficiently.”

“That’s not helpful, is it?”

“My apologize. That wasn’t meant to be cruel. I just… don’t know what the appropriate script is right now.”

He fidgets—glasses off, on, off again—before abruptly standing and pacing like he's running through thirty different comfort strategies in his head and hating every single one of them.

---

⭐ What He Does Instead?

He shuffles through drawers.

Presents you with something bizarre but strangely thoughtful: a perfectly folded blanket.

A warm drink you don’t remember asking for.

An absurdly complex gadget he’s clearly been building on the side—something that “lights up” or “makes a noise” or “just spins.”

“This is to distract your amygdala from spiraling into depressive loops.”

“…Also, it glows when you press this.”

You laugh. A little. Maybe for the first time that day.

He doesn’t smile—not really. But he blinks, slower. Shoulders ease just a fraction. Like he just filed that reaction under success.

---

🌧️ If You Cry?

He’s frozen for a full five seconds. Then blurts:

“I can kill whoever did this to you.”

“Actually that was a joke... Unless it wasn’t.”

He awkwardly offers a tissue—like he’s afraid he’ll break you if he gets too close. But when your hand finds his and you don’t pull away, his whole body goes still.

Then you feel it: his thumb brushing your knuckles. Soft. Hesitant.

He says nothing.

But he doesn’t let go.

---

❤️‍🩹 And Afterwards...

He doesn’t follow up with clumsy sentiments. Doesn’t ask if you’re “okay” in that meaningless way people do.

Instead, he stays in the room a little longer than necessary. Works beside you in silence. Leaves a small post-it note on your desk later that night:

> You’re not alone in this. I’m not going anywhere.

(Also, I fixed your broken pen. It writes smoother now.)

It’s not elegant or poetic. But it’s Harley. Entirely. Completely.

And perhaps… that’s what comfort looks like when it comes from someone who doesn’t know how to love softly, but is trying to learn for you.

[baisemains]

Elements of Desire

Chapter 4: Simple Truths (and Lies)

single mom!sevika x fem!reader

word count: 8k

contains: mentions of past relationship trauma/cheating, language, alcohol, fluff, angst

description: right when you and sevika have independently come to an acceptance, a surprise guest changes the course of your relationship.

ao3 link | spotify playlist

previous | next // sevika masterlist

The next time you see Sevika, it’s a little awkward, you’ll admit, but you can’t help the thoughts running through your head.

Should you hug her as a greeting now? Are you looking at her differently? Oh god, did she feel the same?

Overthinking was always an issue for you but you feel like this situation has made it so much worse. You haven’t talked about it with your roommates much, partly because they’d ask more questions, but mostly because you weren’t sure it was even worth discussing. Okay, yeah, you’ll admit, you had a teeny tiny schoolgirl crush on Sevika, but wouldn’t anyone? If anything, that just proves you’re human.

And maybe a little horny, it has been a while, actually…

As far as you can tell, Sevika hasn’t been acting any different around you, and you’ll take that as a positive sign, at least your crush isn’t obvious and creeping her out. Although, as much as you want to believe that’s a good thing, a small part of you is hurt. One sided feelings were nothing new to you, but it was a bit soul crushing that you were still going through this as an adult.

Sevika’s internal struggles are mirrored in yours, with the addition of one other thing: her denial. She’s been trying extremely hard to tell herself that it was nothing, just a friendly little dinner. Maybe if she keeps telling herself that, it’ll drive away the memories from that night, how you were sitting on her couch, so close, the soft smile on your face when talking to her girls. She’s annoyed that she can’t look at you without a warm feeling filling her chest or her thoughts running a mile a minute.

Groaning, she slams the hood of her car shut, not being able to focus on what she was working on.

“Everything okay, Sev?”

Refocusing her eyes and looking over her shoulder, she glares at one of her oldest friends before remembering he’d been there a while and schools her face into something more neutral. Seeing her expression, Vander chuckles, being on the receiving end of Sevika’s death stares was nothing new to him.

“Um, yeah. Just thinking, I guess.”

“About what? I thought you were gonna break the damn hood off closing it like that.”

A smile threatens to break through Sevika’s expression but she’s able to contain it.

“Mm, just this project Powder’s been working on, the one she was telling you guys about the other day.”

Vander raises an eyebrow at that. He knew Sevika had a lot on her plate, but a science project that wasn’t even hers didn’t seem like reason enough for her sulky mood.

“Right…it’s been that stressful?”

Sevika’s mouth twitches at that, almost opening her mouth to tell Vander the truth but deciding against it. Vander sees the internal struggle written clearly on her face and decides to call her out on it. Their friendship is nothing if not brutally honest, and he’ll be damned if they start keeping secrets now.

“Sev, what’s going on? You’ve been acting weird the last couple weeks, especially when Powder talks about her project. You’re not as good of a liar as you think, at least not with me.”

Sevika lets out a quiet sigh at that, knowing she’s been caught. She doesn’t really know why she’s been hesitant to tell Vander about you, hell, he’s heard all the details about her past relationships, even the ones he’d rather not know. That’s just how close they are. This time just felt…different. More important, somehow? She didn’t know how else to describe it.

The longer Sevika takes to respond, the more worried Vander gets, and his mind starts drifting to bad scenarios.

“Wait, it’s nothing to do with the girls, right? Or you, you’re not sick or something?”

That instantly snaps Sevika out of her thoughts.

“No! It’s nothing bad, nothing like that, we’re all fine. It’s just, um…I…”

She pushes past Vander to make sure the door to the house is closed, the last thing she needs is her girls overhearing this conversation. Walking back over to him, she takes a seat on her work bench and Vander does the same, patiently waiting for her to finish her thought.

“I might have a thing for Powder’s teacher. The one helping with the science fair thing.”

Sevika rubs a hand over her face at that, she can’t believe she said that out loud. After a few seconds of silence, she looks over at Vander, who has a shit eating grin on his face.

“No fuckin’ way. I wanna talk shit but you look embarrassed enough.”

Sevika punches his shoulder at that, Vander only slightly flinching but laughing regardless.

“Fuck off…”, she grumbles, heat starting to creep up her neck.

Vander gets up from the bench and walks over to the fridge in the corner, grabbing two beers and handing one to Sevika as he sits back down. The two of them open the beers bare handed, clinking them together before taking a sip. Vander decides to broach the subject again, hoping he’ll get a better result.

“So, what’s she like? Better yet, you got a picture?”

Sevika just shakes her head, laughing. Her first instinct was to shrug the question off, but then the image of you popped into her mind and she couldn’t help but smile.

“She is…so smart. Like obviously she’s a teacher, but we’ve talked about a lot of things and she knows a little about all of it. Really nerdy too, but I also kind of expected that.”

Memories of you float through her head and she just lets herself ramble, much to Vander’s amusement.

“She’s well read, we’ve swapped books a couple times now and we always have long discussions after. Big on sci fi movies too, she stayed for movie night not too long ago after we had dinner here and it was really nice, the girls adore her.”

Vander takes a pause from drinking his beer and turns to look at Sevika.

“Hold on, she had dinner here and you didn’t tell me anything? Was this before or after Silco and I came back from our trip?”

Sevika clears her throat, side eyeing Vander sheepishly.

“After…”

Vander scoffs, jaw dropping as his eyes widen.

“Sev! How long has this been going on, you haven’t told me shit!”

She rolls her eyes at that, gay people are so dramatic.

“We officially met a couple months ago when we first moved here, Powder was having some trouble with a kid in her class and we had to have a parent/teacher conference. And then she asked Powder to join this science fair thing and it’s a full time project so we have to meet up almost every day, it’s been a lot.”

She eventually just spills everything, from Halloween night to how she started giving you food to take home to how she’s caught you looking at her before. Vander is shaking his head the entire time Sevika is talking, he can’t believe his best friend has been withholding all of this information from him.

“Wow, I’m hurt. You finally meet someone half decent and don’t tell me about it, I thought we were closer than that.”

Sevika cackles at that, elbowing him in the ribcage.

“Don’t even, I barely admitted it to myself. I can’t go around having a crush on my kid’s teacher.”

“And why not?”

Sevika pauses, beer halfway to her mouth before she lowers her hand and turns towards Vander.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, why can’t you have a crush on her? Or heavens forbid, ask her out?”

She starts sputtering at that, half baked excuses spilling out of her mouth.

“Well— because— that wouldn’t be right—“

“And why not? You’re both two consenting adults, and from everything you just told me, she’s got a crush too.”

Sevika’s ears burn at that, there’s no way that’s true. Who would want all the baggage she comes with, especially someone like you, you could have anyone you wanted.

“You don’t know that, she’s probably just being nice. Probably talks like that to all the parents or whatever.”

Vander laughs at her again, shaking his head in disbelief at the woman in front of him. Sevika’s frown just deepens as he continues chuckling.

“Do you know how ridiculous you sound right now? I haven’t seen you talk about anyone like this since…”

He bites his words, catching himself before he brings up something he’s sure Sevika doesn’t want to talk about.

“Sev, I didn’t mean to—“

He’s cut off by Sevika shaking her head and sighing.

“Don’t, it’s fine. I just….fuck, it’s really been that long?”

Vander nods at that, realizing that she hadn’t dated anyone in a couple of years.

“Yeah, it has. You haven’t even hooked up with anyone, you’re basically a nun.”

Sevika playfully glares at him, flicking him on the ear.

“And what’s wrong with that? I’m focusing on myself and my girls, that’s all I need to be happy.”

Vander gives her a dubious look at that, knowing her well enough to know that it was bullshit.

“Oh really? So you’re trying to tell me you don’t miss any physical affection? Not even a little?”

Sevika bristles at that, trying to deny the truth in his words. She was never an overly affectionate person, and didn’t mind going without it for a while, but lately it was starting to bug her.

“I’m doing fine, don’t worry about it.”

The dismissive tone in Sevika’s voice just made Vander roll his eyes, no way was he buying that lie.

“Oh come on, don’t give me that bullshit. I know you’re a damn good mom, but I also know you’re not a robot. You still have needs.”

Sevika sighs at that, taking a swig of her beer before responding.

“And? I’m not gonna go out and look for a one night stand just for that, I’m not that desperate.”

“No one is saying that, but if you hit it off with this woman, then you can get the emotional and the physical together, it’s a win-win.”

Sevika rubs the back of her neck, the mental image of you and her together suddenly popping up in her head, completely involuntarily.

“I don’t know. It’s not that simple, we’re both too old to be acting like this.”

Vander rolls his eyes at that, once again wondering how the hell this woman could be so smart yet so damn oblivious.

“Too old to be acting like what? To go after something you want?”

Sevika sighs and rubs her forehead. She knows she’s going to lose this argument, but still she pushes on.

“It’s a terrible idea, she’s my kid’s teacher for fuck’s sake. If she’s not interested, we’ll still have to be around each other the rest of this school year, and maybe the next, Powder’s only in eleventh grade. Not to mention when Isha gets to high school–”

Vander scoffs at that, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You’re making so many assumptions right now, how the hell do you know how she might react? Also, how is any of this a bad thing? A woman who’s good with your kids, who you're attracted to, who you say seems just as interested, how could you pass that up?”

Sevika’s mind reels as she tries to think of a rebuttal, but all she can think about is you, how sweet you are to her girls, how your conversations seemed to last hours without her noticing.

Vander frowns at Sevika, seeing the battle in her eyes as she tries to rationalize her thoughts. He leans back in the chair, sipping on his beer before speaking.

“You’re really scared to take a chance, huh?”

Sevika drops her head and sighs, her whole body suddenly feeling tired.

“I just don’t have another failed relationship left in me. Every time I decide to give someone a chance, they show me exactly why I shouldn’t have. I’m getting too old for this.”

Vander’s expression softens at that, hating how her heart had been repeatedly broken.

“Sev, you’re not too old for anything. Yeah, you’ve had some bad exes, but you can’t let them stop you from trying again.”

Sevika just rolls her eyes, downing the rest of her beer.

“Easy for you to say, you and Silco have been together for years.”

“And it didn’t happen by chance that we ended up together. I’m the one who made the first move, remember?”

Sevika remembers that day very clearly. Vander and Silco’s awkward flirting, her eventual eye roll that got them to just get it over with and get together was one for the books. Vander catches Sevika’s look and smirks at her, leaning forward.

“Don’t you ever get tired of waiting for something to happen on its own? It’s never gonna pan out that way, you know this.”

Sevika lets out a shaky breath, her mind playing a cruel, torturous movie in her head. All of her previous relationships flashed before her, with each ending in pain and anguish. She clenches her hands, her jaw, every part of her body suddenly tense. Vander sees the pain in her eyes, but refuses to let up, knowing that she needs the push. He knows she won’t admit to it, but she’s been lonely. And she deserves to be happy.

“C’mon, even you have to admit that she’s different. You said it yourself, she’s smart, caring, and she’s been helping out so much with Powder.”

Vander may not have met you yet, but Sevika has never talked about anyone this fondly, and that says enough to him.

“You can’t tell me that it doesn’t mean anything to you, how she seems to care about the girls. I seriously doubt they would like some random teacher this much.”

Sevika slumps in her seat, completely defeated. She knows he’s right, every single point he made was correct. Sighing and looking back up, she sees the smug smile on Vander’s face.

“I hate you.”

He just chuckles at that, patting her on the shoulder.

“Yeah, you love me. You know I’m not trying to give you a hard time, you just need a kick in the ass to get on with it sometimes.”

Sevika opens her mouth to give a sarcastic reply when the garage door opens and Isha pops in, running to her mom and climbing onto the bench.

Uncle Silco said dinner’s ready.

Vander scoops her up before anyone can react, and Isha’s laughs can be heard the entire way he carries her inside.

Taking a moment longer to gather her thoughts, Sevika lets out a sigh and stands up, heading inside to have dinner with her family.

The next week at school is finals week, and you’re definitely feeling it. Between tests and projects, you’re swamped with grading, and Powder and Ekko’s science fair submissions are also due at the beginning of next week, so you’ve gotta look over those to make sure they’re up to standard.

You’ve barely had time to eat or sleep, so you haven’t been in contact with Sevika as much as usual, much to her dismay. Powder keeps her in the loop so she knows it’s a busy time at school, but still, after her conversation with Vander, she was eager to see you in person, or at least talk on the phone.

Opportunity finally knocks on a Friday morning when you text her after days of radio silence.

“Hey, is it okay if I swing by after school to check on Powder’s project? I wanna make sure it all looks good before submissions on Monday.”

The grin that threatens to split her face catches the attention of none other than her best friend, and he walks over to see what’s got Sevika so giddy.

“Teach finally get back to you?”

She looks up from her phone, becoming aware of the expression on her face and dissolving it immediately.

“Yeah, she wants to come over tonight to look at Powder’s project.”

Vander’s eyes shine with a mischievous glint and one eyebrow slightly raised as he responds.

“Oh? What time, me and Silco were planning on coming over for dinner.”

Sevika huffs at that.

“Since when? I thought Fridays were date nights for you two.”

“Since right now. I wanna meet this elusive woman.”

With a roll of her eyes, Sevika just gives your message a thumbs ups and slides her phone into her back pocket. She’ll text you a specific time later.

“You make her sound like she’s a figment of my imagination.”

“Well you still haven’t shown me a picture of her, so for now, that’s exactly how I’m picturing her.”

Vander has a smug expression on, but Sevika refuses to give him the satisfaction of showing what you look like. Not that she has any pictures anyway, all your social media accounts are private, and she barely knows how to Google so that’s out of the question.

“And that’s how I like it. Get back to work, that engine’s not gonna fix itself.”

Sevika walks into the office and sends you a message telling you to come over between six and seven.

Maybe she’ll be able to convince you to stay for dinner again.

You’re in the middle of scarfing down your lunch when your phone buzzes and you see that Sevika responded to you. Hearting the message, you finish your food and get back to grading final tests, hoping to be done by the time you have to go over.

That evening, around five, a knock at the front door resounds throughout the house, and Sevika pokes her head out from the kitchen. Looking over her shoulder, she sees Silco and Vander sitting in the living room with Isha and Powder, playing some board game they brought with them from their last vacation.

Walking to the front door, she’s a bit confused, you’ve never shown up an hour early, and you didn’t text her you were on your way like you usually do. Not bothering to look through the peephole, she opens the front door and her jaw drops.

“Vi!”

She reaches out and engulfs the girl in a hug, lifting her off the ground in the process.

“Hey Sev.”

The muffled reply makes Sevika laugh, and she puts Vi down, grabbing her shoulders so she can get a better look at her.

“What are you doing here, I thought you weren’t getting back ‘til next wee— Did you cut your hair?”

Sevika brushes her hand onto the side of Vi’s head, feeling the prickliness there.

“It suits you.”

“That’s what I said.”

A voice Sevika doesn’t recognize speaks up, and she slowly turns her head towards the source. A girl stands there, the same age as Vi, wearing a coat way fancier than anything she’s ever owned. The moment Sevika makes eye contact with her, the girl’s smile drops and an air of nervousness surrounds her.

“And who might you be?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m Caitlyn, Kiramman, I’m Vi’s fr—“

“Girlfriend. She’s my girlfriend.”

Sevika glances back towards Vi, eyebrow raised. She’s never mentioned a girlfriend in all the phone calls and video chats they’ve had this year.

Looking back towards the girl, Caitlyn, she decides to ask her the questions running through her head.

“Since when?”

Caitlyn starts rambling, reeking of anxiety.

“Well, um we started talking at the beginning of this year, but it didn’t get serious until the spring, and then over summer break we made it official—“

Sevika cuts her off, just wanting a straight answer.

“Months. How many months?”

“Oh! Um, six? Six.”

A nervous smile creeps onto her face, and her eyes bounce back and forth between Sevika and Vi, the latter pinching the bridge of her nose in embarrassment. She knew the introductions would go like this.

“Right…and you two are official enough to start meeting each other’s families?”

That’s when Vi steps in, moving to stand next to Caitlyn and interlock their fingers.

“Yeah. I’ve already met her family, and they like me.”

“Hm.”

Sevika’s gaze flits back and forth between the two teenagers, deciding how to go about this.

Obviously Vi is serious about this girl if she’s bringing her home, but the fact that she just sprung this on her without any warning warrants a conversation.

Later though, it’s cold and Sevika didn’t grab a coat before opening the door.

“Well… Caitlyn?”

The girl nods, an actual smile gracing her face now, and even Vi’s mouth quirks up.

Sevika sticks her hand out in greeting, now that the shock has worn off.

“It’s nice to meet you, you can call me Sevika.”

Caitlyn’s eyes widen at the sheer size of her hand, but she takes it in her own, making sure to firmly shake it and keep eye contact with Sevika while doing so.

“Pleasure to meet you, as well.”

Sevika nods, maybe this girl isn’t as meek as she looks.

“Let’s head inside, it’s cold out here.”

Sevika steps aside and lets the two girls walk in first, helping with their bags before shutting the door and walking over to the living room, noticing the concerned looks Silco and Vander are sending her over the now forgotten game.

“Relax, everything’s fine.”

She smiles big.

“We just had some unexpected guests.”

Moving out of the way so everyone can see who was at the door, Powder and Isha run to Vi, crushing her in a hug on either side.

“No way, I thought you weren’t getting here until next week!”

Vi hugs her sisters back with equally as much enthusiasm, even lifting Isha up into her arms.

“Yeah, I took my finals ahead of time so we decided to head down early.”

At that very moment, all eyes in the room realize there’s another person there, and it goes silent.

“Um, hi everyone, I’m Caitlyn, Vi’s fr— girlfriend.”

She lightly waves, unsure of what else to say. Sevika takes the opportunity to stand next to her and clap a hand on her shoulder. The girl is just as tall as her, she realizes, but that doesn’t change her approach.

“Yup, her girlfriend, so Powder, why don’t you set an extra place for her at the table?”

Forcing a smile, Powder laughs and walks into the kitchen, grabbing one more of everything.

Making sure none of the adults can see her, she catches Vi’s eye and mouths I thought you guys broke up?

Vi replies long story, I’ll tell you later to which Powder just chuckles to herself and walks back to the couch.

“I’m gonna go finish dinner, girls, why don’t you join everyone in the living room? I’ll call you when the food’s ready.”

Sevika makes sure to give Vander a look that says keep an eye on them and he nods with a smile, knowing exactly what she means.

Almost another hour passes, and Sevika’s just about to start serving the food when the doorbell rings. She quickly checks her phone, and yup, you text her that you were on your way a few minutes ago.

“I’ll get it!”

Letting out a sigh, Sevika checks herself in the mirror in the entryway, making sure no messy hair or stray food crumbs are visible, and answers the door.

“Hey.”

Your usual beaming smile is instead replaced by a tired one, and it’s not reaching your eyes the way it normally does.

“Hi.”

Sevika’s mouth twists into a slight frown at the sight of you.

“Rough day?”

You let out a weary sigh and nod, rubbing your eyes.

“Yeah, this week’s been hell. I don’t think I’ve slept more than five hours combined in the last few days.”

Seeing you like this doesn’t sit right with Sevika. She’s never seen you so run down before, and she wishes she could do something about it.

“Sounds about right, but on the bright side, it’s all over after this weekend.”

This gets an actual smile out of you, the first one of the day.

“That’s pretty much the only thing keeping me going.”

Sevika chuckles and stands to the side, gesturing you inside.

“Come on in, I’ve got food on the stove but I’m sure the girls would be happy to see you.”

You give her another smile and walk through the doorway, Sevika not realizing that she was holding her breath until you’re all the way in.

After kicking your shoes off and placing your bag in the corner, Sevika guides you over to the couch where Silco, Vander, and the two younger girls are sitting.

Hearing footsteps, Powder and Isha turn around and jump up immediately upon seeing you.

“Teach, hi!”

You give them each hugs, seeing them definitely boosts your mood and Sevika notices.

Upon hearing someone clearing their throat, you and Sevika both look over at the two men sitting on the couch, wearing matching grins.

“Oh right, this is Vander, my best friend and coworker, and next to him is Silco, my other best friend and Vander’s husband and our boss.”

The two of them stand up and make their way over to you, shaking your hand as you introduce yourself.

“Nice to meet you both, it’s good to know there’s even more adults in the girls’ lives. It truly takes a village.”

That gets a chuckle out of them, and they nod as Vander answers you.

“It definitely does, especially when Sevika first took the girls in, it was all hands on deck. But I’d say they turned out all right.”

He punctuates his sentence by clapping his hand on Sevika’s shoulder and winking.

She rolls her eyes at him, looking at you to say something snarky about him, but it gets caught in her throat when she sees that you’re already looking her way, eyes locked onto hers, a curious look in them.

First took the girls in?

Sevika quickly looks away and clears her throat, scanning the room and looking for a change in subject.

“We should go check on Powder’s project! Don’t wanna keep you here longer than you have to be.”

You nod your head at that, remembering what you came over for.

“Yeah, of course.”

Vander and Silco sit back down on the couch, Isha following, continuing their game from before.

“I’ll show you, teach.”

Powder leads you into the garage, Sevika starting to follow behind until a realization pops into her head.

“Where’s Vi?”

“Oh, she said she had to grab something from her room.”

Vander replied nonchalantly, but something doesn’t seem quite right.

“And the girlfriend?”

“She— oh.”

Sevika groans, heading down the hallway to Vi’s room, turning the handle to open the door, but it’s locked.

Sevika grumbles and starts knocking, loud enough to alert the entire neighborhood if need be.

“Vi!”

A couple seconds pass and there’s no response. Sevika knocks again, even more loudly.

“Vi!”

Sevika presses her ear up to the door to hear a shuffling noise on the other side, but nothing else.

Gritting her teeth, it takes everything in Sevika to not knock the door down, knowing you’re in the house.

She’s been through this with Vi before, her rebellious phase in high school cost Sevika more than a few grey hairs.

“Vi, open the damn door, now!”

There’s another shuffle on the other side, but nothing more after that. Sevika’s just about to try the door again when it finally opens, revealing a sheepish looking Vi.

Sevika crosses her arms and glares daggers into her daughter.

“Mind telling me what you’re doing in there?”

Vi winces, she knows what it looks like, but she scrambles to explain herself.

“Caitlyn was taking a nap! That’s all it was, I swear. Well, we were taking a nap, I guess, but I locked the door out of habit, not because we were doing anything. We just had a long drive.”

Sevika’s eyebrow is arched, and she peers into the room to see Caitlyn laid on the bed, soft snores coming from her.

“That girl must be one hell of a heavy sleeper, I was knocking on the door good.”

Vi nods in agreement.

“She is, she sleeps through all the fire alarms at school.”

As soon as the sentence escapes her mouth, Vi squeezes her lips together and Sevika just sighs.

Remembering how she acted at this age, she couldn’t fault Vi too much, but she was still going to set boundaries.

“Look, Vi…if you’re both gonna stay here, we need some ground rules. You guys don’t sleep in the same room, she can stay on the pullout couch for the time being, and if the two of you are gonna hang out, it needs to be where I can see you, with the door open.”

Vi sighs, knowing that she’s being completely reasonable, especially with her history.

“Yeah, that’s fair.”

Sevika puts a hand on her hip and raises an eyebrow.

“I’m trusting you, kid. Don’t make me regret it.”

Sevika walks back into the living room, but not before making sure Vi’s door is wide open.

Heading into the garage, she sees you and Powder looking over her project, using scientific terms that are lost on her.

You hear Sevika walk in and look up, shooting her a warm smile. She stands over the two of you, watching the project closely.

Feeling her presence, Powder looks up at her, but there’s a mischievous glimmer in her eyes that she hides when the two of you look at her.

“I need to go ask Vi something, I’ll be right back!”

Powder leaves before either of you can say anything, and you realize you’re alone with Sevika for the first time in a while.

Sevika can practically feel the weight of being alone with you, it’s making her heart thrum with such intensity, she wonders how you can’t hear it.

Clearing her throat, she nods at the project.

“It looks really good.”

You let out a content sigh, staring at the piece in front of you.

“Yeah, it looks even better than I imagined, she’s really talented. As long as she nails the oral presentation, I think she’s in.”

Sevika nods, crossing her arms, not knowing what else to say. She steals a quick glance at you and is stunned by how amazing you look even under the fluorescent lights of the garage.

She quickly looks away, heat crawling up her face. Her thoughts running all over the place, the silence in the garage is deafening. It’s never been this awkward with you, but she’s too in her own head to relax.

Sensing the anticipation in the air, you turn towards her, but Sevika quickly looks away. You realize that there’s been an underlying level of tension between the two of you, one that you’ve been trying to justify, but it’s suddenly become hard to do so now that you’re standing next to her and the tension is permeating the room.

Taking a step towards her, unable to help yourself, her eyes dart up to yours, unsure of what you’re doing.

“You sure? You seem…off.”

Reaching out and putting a hand on her shoulder, the feel of her muscle under your palm sends a jolt of warmth through your system.

Sevika’s cheeks begin to heat up, and she’s suddenly thankful her blush isn’t visible.

She feels like she’s burning under your touch, the feeling sending her mind into a whirl, and before she can think, she reaches up and covers your hand with her own.

“I’m fine, I swear, I’m not sick.”

You open your mouth to say something when the door opens and the two of you break apart immediately.

“Hey, Sev—“

A girl you don’t recognize walks in, but you see a resemblance to Powder, so you assume she’s the oldest daughter you’ve seen in pictures around the house.

Sevika curses under her breath, and her skin is still on fire from your touch.

“What is it, Vi?”

She rubs her forehead, trying to bring her heartbeat down to its normal rate.

“Uncle Silco’s asking where the extra chairs are…who’s this?”

Sevika’s mind takes a second to catch up to the conversation before answering.

“This is Powder’s teacher, she was just finishing up looking over her project—“

Vi’s eyes widen and her lips curl into a smile, she’s heard all about you from both her sisters.

“Ah, okay. Nice to finally meet you, Powder talks about you a lot.”

You smile at that, albeit a bit nervously.

“All good things, I hope.”

Vi just nods, not giving you much to go on.

“Yeah. You know, you look really familiar.”

Suddenly, she cocks her head and you’re unsure if you like her tone.

“Oh?”

Eyebrows furrow at that, you don’t know where you’d know each other from considering you never had Vi as a student.

And she’s definitely too young to hang out at the lesbian bar you like.

She shrugs, giving an air of nonchalance but there’s something in her eyes you can’t quite place.

“I’ll figure it out eventually.”

Sevika looks between the two of you, confusion laced in her features. The air feels stuffy, and she feels the need to break the sudden tension.

“Dinner’s about ready guys, we should head in.”

The unofficial staring contest between you and Vi is broken and you both look at Sevika, Vi nodding and you giving her a small smile.

Vi heads in first, with you following and Sevika bringing up the rear.

Once you’re all in the kitchen, you see another girl you don’t recognize talking with the two men you met earlier.

“Guys, come sit down! You too, Caitlyn.”

Sevika calls everyone over to the table, and she introduces you to the unfamiliar face when she gets close enough.

“Oh, sorry, this is Caitlyn, Vi’s girlfriend.”

You smile at the teenager, shaking her hand in a polite manner and introducing yourself as well.

You’re about to tell Sevika that you’re going to head out when Powder asks if you’ll be staying for dinner.

Truth be told, you’d never turn down Sevika’s cooking, but with the addition of their two uncles and Vi and her girlfriend, you don’t feel like adding to the crowd.

“I would, but I’ve got to finish grading finals by this weekend and—“

“They’ll still be there when you get back, we’d love to get to know you better.”

Your eyes flick over to the taller of the two men, Vander, you remember. Silco sitting next to him smacks his arm, reminding him of his manners.

“Don’t cut her off, babe, that’s rude.”

Vander just chuckles and lays his arm on the back of his chair, squeezing his shoulder.

“My apologies. I just meant, we’d love for you to stay but if you have work to get back to, we understand.”

Flashing him a tight smile, you open your mouth to answer when another voice speaks up.

“You should stay. Seriously.”

Vi’s sitting at the table pouring herself something to drink when she looks up at you expectantly. For some reason, her asking feels more serious and you feel obligated to say yes.

Vander sees the surprise on your face at Vi’s request and tries to keep the curiosity off his own. Sevika can’t help but mirror his thoughts, finding it surprising that Vi seems to want you to stay. You look around the table, seeing all eyes waiting on you to answer.

“Well, I guess I’ll have time tomorrow…”

“Great, glad to have you.”

Sevika says it louder than she intended to, but seeing the smile appear on your face makes her regret it less. Powder grins from across the table and gets up to set an extra place for you. You’re seated directly across from Vi, which makes you a bit nervous but you try to brush it off.

Despite the initial awkwardness between the two of you, there’s a lot of chatter during dinner.

Silco and Vander get into a heated debate over some new law the city council is proposing. Powder is explaining to Caitlyn why her project works the way it does and gets lost in the technical jargon, Isha asking questions once in a while.

Sevika and you spend the entire dinner in your own world, the time spent apart catching up to you both and you’ve almost forgotten how much you enjoy her company. Vi watches the two of you engrossed in each other, but she stays silent.

That changes towards the end of dinner when she directs a question towards you that makes you wish you’d never accepted the invitation tonight.

“Wait, I think I remember where I know you from. Do you know someone named Gert?”

You almost drop your fork. There’s no way she’s talking about the same person you’re thinking about, right?

“Gert…?”

Vi goes on to describe exactly who you were dreading she meant, and it makes you feel sick. You try to swallow down your nausea and figure out where this conversation is going.

“What about her? How do you know her?”

Your answer sounds a bit more defensive than you meant it to be, but Sevika hears the slight shift in your tone.

Vi picks up on it as well, and a look you can’t read flickers across her face. She shrugs and replies nonchalantly.

“Oh, me and her daughter are close friends, we used to go to school together.”

Shifting in her chair to lean forward a little, Vi locks eyes with you to see how you’ll react.

“Is that right?”

You don’t like where this is going, but with all eyes at the table on you, choosing your words carefully is important.

Breaking eye contact with you, Vi starts scraping her fork on her plate.

“Yeah, I remember her telling me about someone her mom was dating a few years back. A teacher, chemistry teacher, actually.”

Your breathing starts picking up, but you try not to let any emotion show.

“They even ended up getting engaged. But right before the wedding, the woman called it off. No explanation, nothing.”

Your eyes close in frustration, that is not what happened but of course that’s what Gert told people. At this point, everyone else’s conversations have slowly faded away and they’re all tuned into this one.

“Not until later on, people found out that Gert’s fianceé was having an affair and that’s why she called off the wedding.”

Eyes snapping open, your jaw clenches but you can’t bring yourself to say anything, frozen in shock and anger and sadness. You’ve spent years trying to heal from that event in your life, and now it’s being brought up with no regard for the truth.

“So that’s why you ended up moving here? To get away from what you did to that family?”

That causes Sevika to break from her trance and she speaks up.

“Vi, what are you talking about?”

The teenager ignores her, opting to lean back in her chair and cross her arms, locking eyes with you.

Your mouth is opening and closing like a fish gasping for air. You can’t get out the explanation you want to give, the truth.

It was the other way around, Gert cheated on you and you called off the wedding when you found out. You only moved because you couldn’t take seeing her around town, surrounded by the memories of your former life. But the panic settling in your chest prevented you from saying any of that.

“Um, I…”

Your fight or flight kicked in, and for the first time in your life, you didn’t choose fight.

Maybe it was because you were caught off guard, or because it was in front of people you cared about, but you just couldn’t take it anymore.

“I need to go, I’m sorry.”

Scrambling up from the table, you shoot Sevika an apologetic look and rush to the door, grabbing your things and slamming it on your way out.

The entire table is silent, and Sevika is fuming.

“Everyone out.”

Sevika keeps her tone level, but her look is hard enough to have even Silco and Vander standing up without question.

“Um, girls, let’s go to the store and get some dessert, yeah? You too, Caitlyn.”

They rush out the door with the girls in tow, leaving Vi and Sevika in a silent staring contest.

“What in the hell was that about?”

Sevika didn’t like cursing at her daughters, but it was taking every ounce of self restraint to not blow up right now.

Vi just scoffs.

“Do you think I’m stupid? I’ve been watching you two all night, plus all the stuff Powder’s been telling me. You like her.”

Now it’s Sevika’s turn to scoff.

“First of all, I don’t like her, she’s Powder’s teacher and she’s been helping out with her project. Second of all, and more importantly, what do you think you’re doing dropping a bomb like that during dinner?!”

Now Vi has an incredulous look on her face, how did Sevika not get it?

“She’s a cheater! And a liar! I was trying to open your eyes before you get hurt again.”

Sevika freezes at that, now she understands the teenager’s motives.

“Vi…”

The girl cuts her off before she can say anything else.

“I know how much you got hurt last time, Sev. And I talk to the girls, they really like her too, but it wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t tell you what I know.”

“And you thought the best way to do that was in front of everyone at dinner?”

Vi shrugs a bit, a small scowl gracing her features.

“I didn’t really plan it that way, it just happened.”

Sevika sighs, leaning back in her chair.

“How sure are you that that’s what even happened?”

Looking back up at her, Vi’s mouth twists a bit.

“100%. My friend told me all the details when it happened and her mom was really torn up about it for a while. I put it all together when I saw her in person. You deserve someone better than that.”

Sevika’s eyes narrow in annoyance.

“It’s not your job to protect me.”

Vi lets out a bitter scoff.

“No? Then who’s supposed to?”

At this Sevika’s face softens, but she doesn’t have an answer for her.

She starts rubbing her face, this whole situation was fucked now.

“I know you meant well, Vi, but that was not the way to go about it. She’s still Powder’s teacher, and if your sister goes to the next round of this competition, we both still have to be in contact with her.”

Vi hadn’t thought that far, and now she feels guilty for putting them in that position.

“Oh…I didn’t realize that.”

All Sevika can do is groan, rubbing her forehead as she feels the beginning of a headache coming on.

“Exactly. I know you think you have to be an adult, but you don’t. Just…be a kid, and leave the rest up to me, okay?”

Vi finally makes eye contact with Sevika, eyes slightly watering as the gravity of the situation settles on her shoulders.

“Okay.”

“Go hang out in your room or something, okay? I need a minute.”

Vi gets up from the table slowly, walking into her room and shutting the door. As soon as she’s alone, Sevika lets out a heavy breath.

Seeing the look on your face combined with the fact that you didn’t deny it…it didn’t bode well, she’ll admit. Sevika’s mind is racing, trying to process everything that’s happened in the last thirty minutes. Hearing that you cheated on someone you were with, let alone engaged to is hitting her hard. Of course you have a past, but that was always something she never tolerated in a relationship, and this has her rethinking the fact that she wanted to pursue you.

Sevika gets up from the table and walks over to the kitchen window, looking out at the night sky, trying to find some clarity in her thoughts.

She wonders if she should even bring it up to you, but she’s terrified of what she’ll find out. Sevika always prided herself on being a great judge of character, never trusting someone unless they’ve earned it. She can’t help but wonder where things went wrong regarding you.

Walking into the kitchen and pouring herself a glass of bourbon, she heads into the garage to listen to her music as loud as possible to try and drown out her thoughts.

That doesn’t last long as her mind immediately drifts to you and how you’re doing. She even pulls out her phone to call you, staring at your contact card for what seems like ages but ultimately deciding against it.

Not that you would’ve answered even if she had, as soon as you got home, you ran into your room and dove under the covers, crying your eyes out.

You had done so much work to heal from that relationship, and to hear how she lied to everyone to make herself the victim made you sick. It shouldn’t surprise you, she was always selfish like that, you just wish you had realized it sooner. What hurt more was that her daughter believed it all too, but why wouldn’t she take her mom’s side?

That was a big reason why you were hesitant to approach anything with Sevika, the fact that she had daughters who were attached to you would make a breakup that much harder.

The tears came faster at that realization and you cried yourself to sleep soon after that, finally escaping the emotional turmoil of the night.

After a couple hours of trying to think of anything else at all, Sevika decides to grab a quick shower. As she undresses, her mind replays the last couple hours. She can’t help but linger on the last look you gave her before you left, the betrayal and pain on your face.

Stepping in the shower, Sevika lets out a sigh relishing the way the hot water feels against her skin. Eventually the water runs cold and she realizes how long she’s been in there, quickly jumping out and wrapping a towel around herself.

Feeling sluggish now, she puts her pajamas on and slides into bed, unable to close her eyes even though her body is begging for sleep. A million thoughts running through her head, she decides to go on her phone for a little, hoping that’ll help. Eventually, she sees a notification for a suggested friend, and it’s you.

Clicking on the same profile she’s seen a thousand times, she stares at your profile picture until she feels the need to talk to you.

Sevika opens up her text messages and clicks on the tab with your name, starting to type out her thoughts. She pours everything she’s been feeling, about tonight, the last couple months, everything. It’s more therapeutic than she expected, and by the end of her lengthy message, she actually feels relaxed.

Suddenly feeling vulnerable, a wave of panic washes over her and she deletes everything she had typed out. No, it’s better this way, she tells herself. A relationship with someone who cheated in the past isn’t something she’s interested in at this stage in her life, for herself or her girls.

Putting her phone down, she closes her eyes and tries to forget about how your face looked tonight, never wanting to see it that way again.

Little does she know, you’ve woken up from your dreamless slumber and had the same idea to reach out, so you’ve been staring at your screen with bated breath. After what feels like ages, you’re expecting a book length text when all of a sudden, the bubble disappears.

Sitting up in bed, you wait for it to pop back up, but after a few minutes of staring at your screen, you realize she’s not going to send it and crumple into your sheets. Feeling a new wave of sadness take over you, a fresh set of tears brim behind your closed eyelids, and you try to resign yourself to sleep yet again.

taglist! @daughterofthemoons-stuff @vii-v @runawaybaby3 @ferxanda @sevikas-whore @vikashoneybee @sleepingwasp

[mochi-kisses]

Secrets (18+)

Chapter 1 of 2 - Katakuri x (Accountant) Fem! Reader

3.5k words

warnings: nsfw, size difference, oral, possessiveness, not beta read, i don't know why i made reader an accountant

You’d only moved to Totto Land within the year, but managed to land a decent job working in Komugi Island’s governing body thanks to your previous job at a sugar mill.

Working for pirates was new to you, but finances were not. Calculations of purchases and order slips covered your desk as you punched numbers into a snail calculator. Your notes were impeccably detailed and color coded, and they had to be. You had inherited a rather messy situation. You’d been taken on to balance the books—your hire a personal request from Katakuri, who had become concerned that the previous assignee had been pocketing berries and corrupting the financial balance of Komugi’s wheat production. You found that his concerns were well founded.

Katakuri clearly had the skills to be performing this work himself, but his role as minister kept him busy. It gave you some comfort that he had a level of familiarity with your work, as you were the current lone employee within Komugi’s finance department. Everyone else had been ran off by the corruption scandal, so you were alone in the office.

Moving to a new area with no friends, no family, you had no one to talk to except this large man working down the hall whose work ethic matched your own. It was nice to have someone around who understood your struggles, even if it was because you were the only two people left in the donut-shaped building after the sun set, plucking away at complicated problems that others had left behind.

Over time, you grew fond of him. Seeing the shadow of his large frame pass by the hallway near your desk and the familiar clinking of his spurred heels became reasons to stay. And you wondered if he felt the same. But you were a nobody. Just a random accountant filling in for a department shattered by corruption, up to your ears in work.

And yet, one day, the soft leather of the worn glove on his hand brushed against your body as you walked past him.

The next day, you caught the edge of his glance as he’d been looking at you. He pretended to be looking somewhere else.

A few months passed, and it continued on in this way. Coincidences. Seemingly manufactured reasons to come near you.  The subtle floury scent of mochi entering your nostrils as he checks for a document just behind your chair—was he watching you?

You thought you might be brave enough to ask why, but every time you gathered up the nerve, something happened. Sometimes, he’d interrupt you with a question. Other times, he’d simply be gone the moment your mouth began to open.    

Sitting at your desk with a pile of work unfinished after most of the work force had already clocked out, you asked questions in your mind. Why was this massive man showing up in the corner of your eye more frequently, more coincidentally…? Coincidence—could it be? The perfect Katakuri, rumored to be able to see the future, is not a man subject to mere coincidence. But to think that he’d have been near you on purpose? Something must be wrong. Was he suspicious of something you did? Could it be that he was wary of your loyalties? Despite your liking of him, you could not comprehend that your feelings could be reciprocated. Everyone liked him. And he was single. He was in his forties, and single.

“In his forties,” you pondered to yourself. Attractive, fit, employed, in his forties, and single. It echoed back and forth in your mind. There’s clearly something bad you don’t know about him, otherwise, he’d be married. That was the logical conclusion. You knew many men and women less desirable who had been hitched for years.

“Maybe he wasn’t single,” you thought to yourself, “or maybe he is now and he has a dead wife and”—, you continued internally, crafting a whole backstory for this man who you truly knew little about beyond the legendary reputation and sparkling politeness. You blinked and snapped back to reality at the sound of a creak.

Katakuri was standing in the doorway, eyebrow raised inquisitively above his fluffy scarf. To your surprise, he spoke. “Break?”

—

Despite your protests that there was still work to do, Katakuri convinced you to take a quick walk outside with him. “Sugar is strength” was one of the most curious arguments you’d heard in favor of dropping work for a meal. But it worked on you. The sugar coated lands of Totto Land were sometimes overwhelming even for someone with the biggest sweet tooth, but you could not pass down a cake. It was Friday, and this week had been especially chaotic. Katakuri’s distracting presence throwing your emotions into a girlish crush, and the sheer volume of work still ahead of you to untangle the web of financial missteps and lies—you could stand to take a little time off to clear your head. And to do it with the man putting your thoughts into a jumble was the perfect excuse.

Side by side, you had walked together to a local sweets shop in the nearby downtown area of Komugi Island. While you’d spent a good amount of time talking to him while seated, you’d not had many chances to stand next to Katakuri. How small you felt as you were at his side, clutching your bag to your chest nervously. You looked at his gloved hand and realized how small your bag would look in his palm if he were to hold it—a mere coin purse for a man his size.

You took three steps for his every one stride of his long legs, but he was not hard to keep up with. He consciously walked slowly so you could keep up, already adjusted to the gaits of smaller beings. You wondered how many people he had walked with, and why. Was this going to be some kind of interrogation? You felt his eyes on you as the hairs on your neck prickled.

—

The moon peeked out through a cloudy window in the overcast sky. You and Katakuri sat together at a table that hardly accommodated his legs on the back patio of the sweets shop, sharing a cinnamon roll donut, each sipping caffeine. You’d ordered a cappuccino, the frothed milk balancing out the bitterness of the espresso, a perfect pairing for a sweet donut, you thought. Katakuri had ordered a vanilla latte, one you noticed he’d stirred an extra packet of sugar into before heading outside to sit with you. It didn’t surprise you that the Sweet Commander had a sweet tooth, but made you smile regardless. It made such a serious man look so unserious.

You shared a rather awkward conversation about the weather, unsure of what to talk about. He didn’t maintain eye contact or seem interested, nor did he reach for his cup, or his share of the donut. Though you could swear parts of it were disappearing every time you looked away. He sat there stiff as a board, hardly looking comfortable. Your fear that you were in some sort of trouble melted away as his lack of charisma softened the waves of anxiety crashing against your mind.

You hardened your resolve, and straightened your posture. “So…was there something you wanted? I noticed you’d been around my office more lately. I combed through my notes, but I don’t think I owe you anything…or am I forgetting something?” You asked earnestly. Katakuri looked away again, off into the distant sky, a visible gulp traveling through his bare chest. “Well…” he responded.

Something in his eyes flashed and a wave of confidence was brought over him. He leaned down close to the table, close to your face, and looked into your eyes.

“I was wondering if you’d go out with me. And before you respond: no, I do not have a dead wife. I’m single, and have been most of my life. Things don’t usually turn out well for me in the romance department.” In your head, the gears turned. “But what about his dead wife. Is he talking about his dead wife?!,” you thought, until you realized he’d already addressed that. You were dumbfounded. Such is the power of Katakuri, the man who sees the future.

You didn’t respond, so he continued.

“You want to ask, “why me?” But the answer is straightforward. I like you. I apologize if I am being too forward,” he said as he sat up straight again, hiding a bit of himself in his fluffy scarf.

He continued. “It’s…it’s okay if you don’t want to.” Your silence was deafening, and with his concentration lost, he scrambled to view the future. He bit his lip underneath his scarf.

Seeing cracks in Katakuri’s armor was endearing, and just made you like him more. Maybe there really was nothing to be afraid of. Everything felt so sudden, so unexpected—how could he like you? Why? When? But you already knew your answer.

You responded simply. “I’d like to.”

—

The man who had once been a mysterious stranger slowly transformed from the other overworked person down the hallway, to a kind and thoughtful partner. As time passed, the love between you bloomed slowly and sweetly, like sweet-smelling flowers growing on the riverbank of a slow-moving stream. Katakuri stayed a reserved man, careful not to impose. He was gentlemanly with a minor sarcastic streak that you’d begun to know. With such a perfect image, you cherished the little oddities that leaked out of his stone exterior.

The way he praised you, respected you, and listened to you speak gave you confidence. While you’d initially been suspicious of his interest in you, you began to realize it was genuine, and you hoped that you could offer him the same reassurance that he offered to you.

—

When he had first revealed his face to you, you found it endearing the way he’d moved so unsurely. There was fear in his eyes, afraid of rejection, or worse, as he craned his neck down towards you in your first visit to his bedroom. You sat together on his massive bed, your feet unable to touch the floor. Attempting to initiate a kiss, you climbed up his body and touched the side of his face gently behind his scarf, planting a small kiss on his ear. He removed the scarf slowly, a bit shakily. He maintained eye contact as if you’d disappear if he looked away or blinked. But once his scarf was removed, you hardly even noticed the fangs protruding from scarred lips as you looked into his eyes and smiled at him, full of adoration, as you leaned into your first kiss together. The extra large teeth felt warm against your cheeks so you kissed them too, causing him to flush a deep red. “Handsome,” you said with a smile.

The next secret of his that he revealed was that of his merienda—the meditative break he’d been known to take once a day in the afternoon with a pile of hand delivered treats to concentrate on. One day, he invited you—come at 3:15pm sharp, and do it quietly. He didn’t want anyone to know that you’d entered. Slipping away from work early, you dressed up in your most comfortable clothes in anticipation of a strength training routine. Little did you know, the workout you’d get was not part of any training regimen…

—

As you entered the harrowed shrine of the mochi halls, you were immediately blasted with a kaleidoscope of pinks, purples, blues, and reds, covered in rainbow sprinkles. Smells assaulted your senses with an overwhelming sweetness that reminded you of your first date with Katakuri. You walked forward, stunned by what you were seeing, and stepped directly onto an oversized cream filled donut which squirted all over your clothing. You started to slip backward but were caught moments before disaster by your partner’s large arms.

His scarf was already off, you noticed, as he smiled down at you with a bit of pink frosting on his chin. “Careful there, darling.” Katakuri gave you a kiss on the lips. He tasted like a strawberry donut.

“What’s all this?” You asked with a playful tone as you gestured to the interior of his personal mochi palace. Littered with donuts and sweets, you were not entirely surprised that Katakuri had another secret hidden behind that perfect visage of his.

Still carrying you, Katakuri carefully stepped to the center of the donut pile where a stash of large pillows lay. He sat down and rested you upon his lap in a comfortable seated position with one arm on your back, beaming at you with a goofy grin that almost reminded you of a child. It was strange to see his usually serious face painted with such a genuine smile, but you felt it looked natural on him. You wished you could see it more.

“This is the true face of my merienda. The true face of me. It’s my secret,” he spoke from the heart. “I never thought I’d have wanted to share this with anyone. No one, until I met you.”

You blushed. In your time with him, he had always been a straightforward man, but romance was not his forte. He often stood there awkward, stiff, with few words or actions of comfort, no silver tongue to sweep you off your feet. But in this case, his bare-faced honesty, the grin, the little bits of food on his face and clothes added a level of trust you’d not yet breached.

“I feel honored,” you replied. “You’re really not what you seem. You still surprise me every day.”

Katakuri smiled in response. Still holding you, he used his other arm to pick up a beautifully crafted and very oversized yeast donut with frosted glaze that glittered in the sunlight dripping from the small windows in the ceiling. “I saved this for you,” he went on. “It’s my favorite.”

He fed you carefully, allowing you to take a healthy bite of the cherished donut without getting it on your hands or face. Its texture was perfectly light and fluffy, and the sweetness not too overwhelming, balanced with a vanilla flavor that rounded out the flavor.

As you happily let him continue to feed you the wonderful donut, Katakuri pondered. “As you know, this is my daily routine. It helps me keep up with the stresses of my every day life.”

Katakuri’s eyes narrowed, and you felt him inhale sharply beneath you. “…And I can’t help but notice that you need to relax, too.”

—

You don’t know how long it’d been since 3:15pm. How long it took for you and your partner, Katakuri, to finish the helping of fresh, warm donuts piled into the center of the mochi shrine, how long you laughed at how adorable he looked with his mouth full of donuts like a hamster, how embarrassingly long you stared at how large his tongue was, or how long it took for you to climb up his body to look into his eyes like this, your body pressed against his as he laid on his back. But you knew you didn’t want it to end.

Ever-so-gently, you kissed the bits of frosting and pastry off his body. “Mustn’t go to waste,” he teased. You smirked back in agreement, and you felt the tension completely leave his body as he melted into your touch. Your small figure slowly explored the bare inches of him and more, investigating the soft skin under his vest, and taste-testing the happy trail leading down between his hips to unknown pleasures.

Katakuri repositioned, bringing a gloved finger to touch your cheek. Due to his height, his hands were three times the average height of man’s, but his build was slender, and his attention was gentle. The soft lambskin brushed against your face as he looked at you intently, holding your chin up as you moved to sit on his chest.

“Your turn,” he said.

Effortlessly, he removed your dirtied clothes with a single hand, and you sat before him in your underwear. His gloved hand grasped your front, palm flat against your stomach, fingers touching your shoulders and breasts as he circled his thumb on your skin. He continued this for some time, feeling your body, rubbing against you softly. You felt heat building up between your legs, staining your underwear with excitement. You wanted to feel his skin.

You leaned down to kiss the tip of his finger, and reached for the edges of his glove. He allowed you to pull it off, revealing the soft hand of a man who took careful care of his skin. His fingers were long and spindly, hairless, with pronounced knuckles and joints. His age showed in his hands, unlike in his eternally young face. The skin was lightly translucent, showing the veins beneath. He used his teeth to pull off the other glove, and tossed both to the side.

Your eagerness was infectious. Katakuri grabbed each of your legs and spread you open as you sat upon his body, holding onto you with an iron grip. Resting his thumbs just out of reach of your underwear, he looked up at you with an inquisitive brow. You bit your lip and shivered a bit in excitement, and nodded, goading him on.

 He placed the tips of his thumbs against your slick with the lightest pressure, rubbing you up and down with a pace that made you ache for more. The slow up and down motion of his thumbs felt like rolling waves, building pleasurable pressure in your innards. As he watched you begin to lose your composure, he licked his lips thinking of what was to come.

Katakuri rubbed his large thumbs against your clit in varying motions, his skill for this undeniable. Had he been with other women before? You really had no idea, and at this point, you really didn’t care. Your underwear was soaked and you wanted more.

As you pulled at the edges of your underwear, he spurred into action. He snapped them off with a single flick of his fingers, ripping them into an unwearable sheet of cloth, and slid you up towards his face, your depths calling to him. He closed his eyes and inhaled through his nose, exhaling with a grin.

“You smell delicious,” he said with a low grumble.

A little more awkwardly, he continued, asking as his nibbled his lip: “May I taste you? I don’t bite.”

You vibrated excitingly at the thought of his almost inhuman tongue entering your body. How will it feel? It’s so big! You nodded, using your fingers to open your achingly wet folds towards him. His large tongue slipped out from between his teeth as he pulled you into him, resting your legs carefully on his fangs and cheeks as to not hurt you.

Katakuri’s tongue slowly licked and prodded at your entrance, careful to savor your juices with an audible gulp. The flat of his tongue pressing against your ass and pussy felt like nothing you’d quite experienced before. The cool saliva of his mouth and the warm heat building up within you intertwined with the slow rocking of your hips towards him.

His hands slid over your skin, keeping your legs steady and holding you firm, as he increased the pace in which he devoured you. The feeling of his tongue slipping up and down your core was intense, and your body began to shake from the pleasure against his firm grip—every inch of your most sensitive areas were being engulfed with wet warmth and you let out a muffled moan.

Barely able to open your eyes, you peered down at him. His brow was furrowed, concentrated so intently, such perfect concentration, and you watched as he enjoyed the meal he’d made of you. His large hands looked even larger against your thighs, thick fingers pressing into the fat of your leg with a satisfying squish that held you locked in position until he was done with you.

You moaned again, body recoiling, and he responded with a low growl, holding your legs more strongly, with a powerful grip that may leave marks later. If you’d been sound enough of mind, you’d have compared him to a beast who had snapped at someone trying to take its food.

His closed eyes now opened and looked straight up at you with ferocity, as he continued his rapid licking, with a distinct possessiveness you had never seen from him. “Mine,” the words shot into your head from the look in his eyes.

That pushed you over the edge.

Your body suddenly tensed itself so hard that you could barely breathe, barely think. Then a wave of pleasure crashed over you like a great tsunami. With a great release, your heart rate began to slow, your muscles relaxed, as your pleasure spurted into Katakuri’s mouth. Katakuri’s fervent licking slowed to match yours as he marinated in your scent, taking care not to let any of your juices fall to the floor.

Still, he held onto you so tight. Your body felt like it came back down from floating, and you landed firmly in his hands, his face still at your lower half.

Katakuri licked his lips. He found his boldness.

“More.”

He was still hungry.