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lovesickfoolwp · 2 years

Text

emails i can't send — conrad fisher

pairing : conrad fisher x fem!reader

summary : after being apart for so long, your dad comes to the fourth of july party in cousins beach being convinced by your mother. everything turns into a complete shit show and you end it up crying into conrad's arms.

word count : 2k

while you, belly and jeremiah were trying to follow victoria's recipe for making pomegranate margaritas, with a twist added by belly, conrad entered the room. seeing the enthusiasm on your faces, he also wanted to participate, coming up with the idea of using the better blender.

while you were remembering the time when belly and jeremiah, led by you, made a whole mess a few years ago trying to make some drinks for yourselves, a unpleasant surprise appeared in the kitchen.

"y/n?" your dad's voice, which you could have sworn you've forgot over the years, was heard from behind you.

your smile gradually disappeared and your lifelong friends were watching you intently, ready to intervene if you needed any kind of help.

you turned, slowly, on your heel toward him, swallowing hard when you realized that not much had changed in his appearance. probably just the white hair and a few wrinkles. otherwise, it was just like you remembered him and you hated that.

"dad?" you replied, using the word you hadn't used in years. more precisely, since he failed to be the person you would've looked up to.

he had the audacity to approach you and to try to hug into his arms, but conrad stopped him. extending his arm in front of you, thus blocking his access.

your father shot him a threatening look, and before he could say anything, your mother appeared in the room through the back door. seeing the look on your face and how everyone was tense, she realized that maybe this was not her best choice.

"well," she approached you and put her hand on your shoulder to draw your attention, smiling sincerely with regret. "sorry, sweetie, for not telling you earlier about this. now i notice that a mistake may have been made."

"how is this a mistake?" your father asked her, but everyone ignored him.

"you should have asked my opinion first, mom."

this was probably the first time you were really disappointed in her.

"y/n," your father tried to come to you again, but conrad's hand was in the same place. "can we talk a little?"

conrad's eyes turned to you, but instead he met your mother's gaze, which beckoned him to withdraw.

"please, y/n, let me explain!" he insisted when conrad withdrew his hand, but you continued to stay silent.

you gave up, sighing, and accepted. everyone in the room, especially conrad, were asking you if you were sure. you weren't. but, for the sake of your mother, you were at least able to listen to him.

so you went to your room to have total peace. you were sitting on your bed, and your father was standing in front of you.

"i don't understand, y/n, why you let what happened between you and your mother affect our relationship. we were so close before, and now you don't answer my phone either. i'm not even mentioning that you don't want to visit me."

"because it affects me too!"

he snorted in disbelief.

"how could it affect you if the divorce was by mutual agreement?"

you fake laughed and put your head in the hands you were now resting on your knees. "mutual agreement? is that what it's called now when you're cheating on your wife?" you said more for yourself, but he heard you.

"do you hear yourself?" he asked reproachfully.

"yeah, actually, i really do." you answered and looked up again, even if the eye contact grinded all your thinking. you could no longer look him in the eye. "it would have been a step forward if you had even acknowledged what you did. you cheated on my mother and destroyed my all of my trust in you. i can't forgive you as easily as she did."

tears began to appear in the corner of your eye, and he noticed this and sat down next to you, making the bear minimum to keep a considerable distance between you two.

"how this has affected you, y/n?"

he asked you and this time you felt a trace of sincere curiosity in his voice.

"i can't trust the boys anymore, dad. i can't love a boy without making thousands of negative thoughts when he doesn't respond immediately to my text." you sighed and thinking about conrad, you continued. "i know that he's a good person, but i can't get out of my head the idea that one day he might hurt me as much as you hurt mom. you gave me trust issues and you destroyed my expectations of a relationship."

he listened to every word you said, memorizing everything. so when you' were done, he leaned over to you and put his hand over your hand, which was shaking on your knee. "i wish i could fix this, sweet pie."

at the nickname he used to use when you were little, when he was still a model for you, and you felt his touch again, you retreated like his touch burnt you, standing upright by the door.

he stood up too, looking at you as if you were about to break down at any given moment and that's was it.

you approached him, raising your index finger to him and with tears starting to run down your cheeks, you addressed him for the last time. "i'm going to leave the room and when i get back, you'll be anywhere, just not near this house."

and with that being said, you came out of the room like a tornado, ignoring the fact that conrad was a few doors away, listening to everything. and ignoring the fact that conrad called name continuously, following in your footsteps.

you didn't stop until you reached the beach, you sat on the sand and you felt the sea breeze at your feet. you continued to cry, sniffing through the fresh air, watching through the tears as the waves broke.

you felt a warm touch on your shoulder and you knew who that was before he sat down next to you.

"do you want to talk about it?” conrad asked, continuing to look at you intently.

you looked up at him, and your eyes and wet cheeks shattered his heart. he couldn't stand seeing you in this situation.

"could you hold me in your arms for a moment, without saying anything?" your voice trembled when you asked him that and he agreed immediately.

you got up from the position you were in earlier, put your thighs around his legs, and lowered your head into the hollow of your neck, continuing to sigh as he stroked your back.

"yeah, but only for a few moments. we're going to have to talk about this at some point." he said in a reassuring tone and realizing that you would listen to his voice for a lifetime and not get bored, you nodded.

his touch along with your two favorite sounds combined, his breathing and the sound of the ocean, calmed you in a few minutes, becoming soft in his arms.

when your peace had begun to unsettle him because he had begun to overthinking everything, he began to draw circles on your back with his finger to get your attention.

the tears had stopped and the sighs were gone, but you weren't ready to see you with the swollen face from so much crying.

"y/n?" he called your name lightly, beginning to wonder if you had fallen asleep.

you murmured softly something that was not understood and when he tried to move you away enough to see your face by putting his hands on your hips, you clung into his neck like a little kitten that refuses to let you go when you want to let him down from your arms.

he giggled and you felt a flock of butterflies that flew in your stomach, managing to put a lazy smile on your face. when he felt your smile on the skin of his neck, he tried to move you away for a second time and with you being taken unprepared, he succeeded.

no matter how much it hurt him to see you cry, your face afer crying seemed a very beautiful thing, and somehow peaceful, to him because he could've sworn that you were always shining.

"when were you going to tell me you liked me too?" he asked you in a serious tone, but in the end he touched you on the nose teasingly.

"what are you talking about?"

"we both know that i have shown you many times, through my specific methods, that i care a lot about you and what you said to your father today made me believe that was about me. i might be wrong though."

you stood for a second, remembering what you said and you hit him playfully in the shoulder. "were you eavesdropping?"

he laughed lightly in response and then he returned to being seriously, his grip around your waist becoming tighter. "seriously, y/n, i can understand you better than anyone about everything you've said. and if that's all that stops you from telling me what i've wanted to hear for so long, go ahead. because i promise i understand you."

"how can you understand?" you asked him frustrated and you leaned your head on his shoulder, looking at the ocean.

he sighed before he said "because, between us, me and jere are going through the same thing, only he doesn't know it yet. i haven't told him yet. and no one but you, not even our parents, knows i found out."

at that moment you withdrew so that you could study his face. he had no reaction on his face, but the grip around you told you enough.

"your parents are divorcing?"

you couldn't believe it. susannah and adam seemed to be the perfect couple. but so did your parents. that was until your father gave up everything in one selfish night.

"yeah."

there was silence between you for a while, and conrad's fingers on his waist were the only thing holding you to reality. you went through your mind again the words you said to your father and now you knew that conrad had heard them. at the moment you managed to think you were ready, so you cleared your throat and his eyes immediately met yours.

he removed his hands from your waist, and if it had not seemed to you that you were exceeding a limit imposed by your conscience, you would have sighed at that lack of contact.

"what's wrong?" he asked you and put one of his now free hands on your cheek, stroking it with his thumb.

you didn't know how to say it, so you threw the words straight in front of him in one breath. "i like you too."

he thought he was dreaming.

"say it again." he challenged you to repeat it.

you raised your eyebrow and looked at him for a second, then did as he told you to. "i like you too, conrad."

you thought that if you said his name this way, in this sentence, it would make him feel assured of your feelings and you succeeded.

it was his turn to bury his face in the curvature of your neck, squeezing your waist in his arms as if he didn't give you a chance to change your mind and leave.

it was clear. his hands on your waist already felt like home after today.

he barely managed to retreat, being too vulnerable now and wanting to keep hugging you. but he need to say a few more words.

you watched him intently, waiting for him to start talking, but his hands found yours and he began to play anxiously with your fingers as he spoke "believe me, y/n, that after all i've been through in the last few months, i wouldn't want to believe that we'll just be friends again. i want to be around you, i want to be able to hug and kiss you." his fingers found their place, intertwining with your fingers as he continued. "and most importantly, i want to help you build your trust in me."

at that moment, you could have cried again. this time because of happiness. but the grimace on his face when he heard you sighing worried you and you abstained for his sake. "sure."

that was the only word you managed to say, but to him it meant everything.

his lips met yours and he swore to protect you from whatever was needed. even from his own demons.

#the summer i turned pretty #tsitp #conrad fisher #conrad fisher x reader #conradfisher x you #conrad fisher x y/n #the summer i turned pretty imagine #conrad fisher fluff #angst #Spotify

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chasingpj · 3 years

Text

𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐦𝐞?

"My soulmate is so mean. He’s done nothing good with these stupid drawings. You know, all I want is something cute, like a picture of, maybe, flowers?"

pairing: leo valdez x gn reader

words: 2,994

warnings: cursing, mentions of genitalia

category: one-shot, soulmate!au

You don’t know who your soulmate is, but when you find out, you know the first thing you’ll do is punch him in his face. You don’t understand why he does this. Why can’t he be romantic like everyone else? You have a few friends who have the same connection you share with your soulmate, through your skin. Your friends rise from their slumbers with beautiful sketches on their arms; Or throughout the day, lines will appear as they’re being drawn, creating the most beautiful artwork you’ve ever seen. However, of course, you don’t get that; instead, you get this.

You stare at yourself in the mirror with pure disbelief, and you can’t decide whether to cry or scream. You’re used to these kinds of drawings in places like your arms, stomach, and legs, so they were easy to hide. But this has never happened before; it's never been in a place so… so visible.

You fill with rage as you observe the sloppily drawn dick on your forehead and your fist clenches as it lays on top of your bathroom sink. You fucking ass. How the hell am I going to hide this? You have to be at work in fifteen minutes, and you have this vulgar drawing on your forehead. You’re sure if you tell your boss your situation, he’d probably dismiss you because this is obviously not appropriate for the workplace. Still, you can’t even imagine trying to explain this to him. It was way too embarrassing.

"What am I going to do?” You whine as you rub your hands on your face. The drawing won’t be removed from your skin unless your soulmate removes it on his, so you had to think of a solution right away.

“Where could he possibly be where this is acceptable?” You try to refrain from sobbing hopelessly as your frantic mind searches for a solution. You think maybe a hat will work, but you discard the idea knowing your boss will tell you to take it off once you’re indoors. Suddenly, like a sign from the heavens, your solution hits you right in the face when you catch sight of your makeup bag lying on the toilet seat. You reach over, grabbing the pouch and unzipping it. Your quivering hands move too fast, causing the products to fall out and scatter into the sink. Your eyes skim over them in search of your thickest foundation and concealer. When you find them, along with your primer, you sigh, saying a silent prayer before getting to work.

***

Leo gasps sharply as the sight of his face in the mirror shocks him out of his fatigue. He touches his forehead, trying to recall the memory of last night while ignoring the pounding headache surging through his skull. He remembers getting to the club with a group of friends and how they took one shot after another until their vision was blurry. He has a faint memory of dancing with some girl, and the chaos of his 4 am Macdonald’s run with his friends. However, he doesn't recall the moment when this picture was drawn on his face. When did this happen? More importantly, who did this? He pauses, gawking at his reflection. His jaw clenches as the culprit comes to mind. He felt foolish for questioning who did this because he lives with, and he went home with one person last night, and that's Percy.

“Percy!” He yells angrily, and in the next room, he hears Percy’s manic laughter getting louder as he runs down the hall and into the bathroom with him. Percy can’t help but laugh even harder at the sight of a distressed Leo, and he silently congratulates himself for pulling such a successful prank. Leo’s expression hardens, and his gaze snaps over to him, “It's not funny!”

Percy snorts and nudges his shoulder, "Come on, loosen up!" Leo laughs sarcastically,

"Come on, loosen up!" He mocks with clear annoyance, making Percy’s laughter ceases. Leo usually takes things like this so well; he's never been angry at him because of a childish prank. The two of them have been pulling pranks on each other since they moved in together, and they would always laugh it out while deviously planning their revenge. Percy tilts his head, now growing annoyed that Leo’s annoyed.

"Why are you so uptight today?" He almost snaps, not understanding his fury. Leo's eyes narrow at him,

"My soulmate is linked to my skin." He speaks slowly and carefully, accentuating his words to make sure Percy understands how bad this is. Percy's mouth drops open, and he stares at the vulgar art on his forehead.

"Oh… shit," is the only thing he can think of saying. “Fuck, I forgot. I’m sorry,” Percy apologizes even though he knows it doesn’t help anything. He didn’t share the same connection with his soulmate, so he had forgotten entirely about Leo’s bond with his. He’s now left with regret knowing that there's someone out there going along their day trying to hide this lewd image.

Leo groans as he throws his head back. "I-It'll wash off? Right?"

Leo flips up the sink’s nozzle, dipping his head in the cold tap water to wet his face. He scrubs with his fingers, blindly grasping the soap next to him. He runs it over, spreading the suds and lightly scratching his forehead. He rinses everything off and returns to his original position to check his face now. He yells in panic when he sees the drawing didn't budge at all; it didn't even fade. Percy audibly gasps,

"I used permanent marker."

"BRO!"

"I'm sorry!"

Percy shifts on his feet as the memory of last night comes back to him. Leo fell asleep in the cab ride home, and Percy, somehow without much balance, carried him over his shoulder into their apartment complex. He squints his eyes, and with a vague remembrance, he recalls plopping him down on the couch. Leo was unconscious, and Percy’s drunk mind saw this as a perfect opportunity to prank him. He picked the first marker he saw, and in the middle of a giggling fit, he sloppily drew the phallic item and took a picture.

Leo frantically puts his head back in the sink to scrub again, and Percy stands by the door, watching panic wash over him. Leo continues scrubbing his skin, and though his skin becomes red under the friction of his nails, he persists. Percy shakes his head, walking over to him quickly, and he pats his shoulder.

"Come on, man. It's not working; you’re gonna hurt yourself." If Percy let him, Leo would scrub his skin raw. He disregards his advice and continues to scrub, bringing the soap over the drawing once again before scratching harshly. Percy, not wanting his friend to hurt himself, turns off the tap, and Leo groans, standing straight. He stares at himself in the mirror, his face dripping wet, and his skin is red with irritation. I'm so sorry.

***

Your day hasn't gotten any better since this morning. First, you wake with a dick on your forehead; second, you miss your bus because you took so much time layering makeup on your face. Then, you get to work about 15 minutes late because your commute, which usually took about 5 minutes, was delayed due to traffic. You assumed that your day couldn’t get any worse, but you discovered you spoke too soon when the system your job uses to put in orders crashed, making your job even harder than it had to be. Also, you spilled hot coffee on yourself during the morning rush, and that almost sent you straight into tears, but somehow, you prevailed.

By the afternoon, you wanted to rip your hair out when you realized you forgot your wallet, leaving you unfed and cranky. Your boss was no help to your mood either. He picked at everything you did today and held a grudge about you being late this morning. You've never had such a shitty day at work, and there is a sense of relief when you witnessed the clock turn to 4:30 pm. You immediately stood up from your chair, collecting your things before walking straight to the computer to clock out.

The last challenge you're facing is to get home in the slippery aftermath of the pouring rain earlier today. It was colder than usual; the sun’s hidden behind stormy gray clouds, and the smell of wet soil is in the air. You shiver, your arms wrapped around your frame in a poor attempt to keep you warm. You don't have an umbrella, and you hope it doesn’t start raining again. You were sure that if your makeup washes away in the rain for everyone to see the mystery under it, you will lose your mind.

You stand in the corner of the waiting shed, resting your head on the side. You take a deep breath, noticing your hands are anxiously chipping away the week-old nail polish. From the corner of your eye, you see someone join you under the shed, and out of usual curiosity, you look over. A tall, slender guy stands in the opposite corner; he wears distressed blue jeans, a black hoodie with a print you can’t see from your view, and a black winter hat. In his hands, he fiddles with a piece of scrap metal. His skin was tan, and his brown curly hair peeks from under his hat. Oblivious to your staring, he looks away from his fiddling and happens to glance over at you. There's a moment of awkward eye contact before you snap your vision away and out to the street.

You cringe at yourself for staring too long, shifting on your feet. You casually lean over the side of the curve, and you swear the light of the heavens was shining on your bus as it drove toward you. You couldn’t help but smile, a sense of relief washing over you. It’s here; you were one step closer to getting home and relaxing.

The excitement was taken away as quickly as it arrived, your bus passing your stop making a mini tsunami in the process. A wave of water splashes directly on you, and it takes you a moment to process what just happened. You stand there, cold and wet staring blankly at the curve. You felt overwhelmed, not being able to hold back the cries that you’ve been suppressing all day.

"are you-" a sob releases from your lips, stunning the unknown guy next to you. You miserably walk over to the bench, plopping down and resting your elbows on your thighs to lay your head in your hands. You sob freely, not caring about the boy's presence, and he stands in his spot, not sure what to do. He had an innate urge to make you feel better, and he doesn't know why but it pains him to see you like this. He clears his throat and decides to settle in the seat next to you. "Bad day?"

You sniffle, trying to find your breath, "The worst."

You don't look up, your hands doing their part to cover your face and your forehead. "I don't understand why everything is going so wrong.” You didn’t even care that you were pitying yourself, but you felt like you had the right considering how shit your day has been.

"I woke up with an awful drawing from my soulmate. I was late for my bus, which made me late to work; I haven't had lunch either. I'm hungry, cold, and now, soaking wet in street water." You sniffle once more. "My soulmate is so mean. He’s done nothing good with these stupid drawings. You know, all I want is something cute, like a picture of, maybe, flowers? I'd even take a tacky picture of two stick figures falling in love... shit; I’d be satisfied with a grocery list. But of course, with my luck, that doesn't happen. I get stupid drawings of... genitalia."

Leo’s body tenses next to you, and his teeth bite the inside of his lip. Drawings of genitalia? Sounds like him. Now he needed to see this drawing you were talking about, and he feels himself getting anxious at the possibility that you could be his soulmate. You continue to cry, refusing to move from your position.

"Well... it can't be that bad?"

"Oh, it's bad,” you managed to respond in your ragged breathing. Leo hesitantly reaches over, affectionately rubbing his hand across your upper back. Your breath hitches softly at the back of your throat, and there is a surge of warmth that radiates from his hand. You feel your tense shoulders begin to relax, and you furrow your eyebrows as your breath miraculously finds its regular pace. You even have this strange desire to cuddle into his frame to acquire more of his touch.

"Come on, show me. It's probably not as bad as you think." He speaks from his experience this morning. If you aren't his soulmate, he's sure that whatever you have isn't as traumatic as what he and his soulmate have.

"No! You'll laugh," you whine, your head laying firmly on your hands.

"I won't! I promise." You can tell from his voice that he was genuine, and for some reason, you can trust him. You slowly remove your hands from your face, but your head is still in an embarrassed bow. His heart pounds in his chest at the anticipation and leans forward to get a look at your face. You close your eyes, not wanting to see his initial reaction.

There it was. Right under your concealer, there is the familiar drawing faintly present. Leo's mouth drops, and his eyes widen; how is he going to tell you that he has the same picture on his forehead? You sigh shakily,

"It's bad, isn't it?" Your face burns in pure humiliation, and you now regret showing him. Leo is silent for a bit, trying to find words to explain himself.

"I'm sorry," he blurts out. Your eyebrows furrow and your eyes flutter open to look at his guilty expression.

"Why are you sorry?" He doesn't even attempt to explain himself in words. He simply slides off his winter hat, showing you the original drawing on his skin. You inhale sharply, your mind trying to process what is happening in front of you.

He's your soulmate, the person that you ideally would spend your life with. You didn't think you'd find him anytime soon or even at all. Your stomach flutters at the sight of him, and your cheeks get warm. You both gaze into each other’s eyes, and there was an immediate connection. You take in the tousled curls on his head, a bit frizzy from his hat and his big brown eyes. Your heart pumps hard in your chest, just as fast as the boy’s heart in front of you.

A few people told you that you’d feel like the world will slow down when you meet your soulmate. You’ll feel complete, and all at once, you’ll fall in love. You thought it was a load of over-romanticized bull, but you found that it was true even with your strange circumstance.

You finally found him…

But he's done this.

Your anger somehow counteracts this "in love" feeling, and you momentarily hate him for starting your day off on a sour note.

"You!" Your arms lift to strike him in the chest, but before you could attack, he grasps your tight fists.

"I'm sorry! I can explain!" He says quickly. Your arms loosen up, and you narrow your eyes at him,

"Explain yourself then." Sheepishly Leo cowers and his hands remain around your fist, just in case.

"Well," he sighs, "I partied a little too hard last night, and um, my roommate, Percy, thought it would be funny to draw this on my forehead."

"Your roommate is an ass."

"Well, yeah. Sometimes. But he was just as drunk as I was, and he didn't realize that the marker was permanent. When I saw it, I immediately thought of you, and how you’d have to walk around with this." He chews on the inside of his cheek, "I tried getting it off, but it won’t go away." You sigh, willing to forgive him since it wasn't his fault.

"So, we're gonna have this for a while?"

"Probably a couple of days or so." You groan and don’t say anything in return. You look down at your lap, still hiding your face from anyone around. "Oh, here, take my sweatshirt. The hoodie can keep it hidden.” He puts his hat back on and pulls his sweatshirt over his body, passing it to you. You smile softly as you take it from him. You pull it over your still soaked and cold frame, slipping your arms in and bringing the hood up. You mutter a small thank you, shoving your hands in the front pocket. He replies with a hum, allowing the sounds of the passing cars to fill your comfortable silence.

"Again, I'm sorry,” he apologizes sincerely, and you turn your head. You smile reassuringly,

"It's okay. I'll forgive you this time,” you say teasingly, and he chuckles. "I'm y/n, by the way."

"Leo." You reach over, taking his hand, and you guys share a handshake.

"Nice to meet you, soulmate.”

masterlists

#leo valdez x you #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez #leo valdez fanfic #leo valdez imagine #leo valdez one shot #heroes of olympus fanfic #heroes of olympus #my writing

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aizawaorkuroo · 4 years

Text

Seek the Light

Ship: Ukai Keishin x f!reader

Rated: Explicit

Word Count: 8.4K

Summary: Back home after losing your job, you wander into a convenience store not realizing you would see a familiar face.

Warnings: Young Ukai’s a bitch, Language, Biting, Vaginal Fingering, Size Kink (I know this man has a bick dick I know he does), Overstimulation, Creampie, Unprotected Sex, Dom!Ukai

AN: first haikyuu fic haha and first time writing ukai so im still figuring it out! This one got away from me gsfda and the conflict resolved easily cause its my fic and i make the rules tgerfw

________________________

The dipping summer sun casts shadows across the buildings, while painting the clouds a pretty gold. Memories of childhood and youth flood into you, creating a fondness in your heart. Yes, Miyagi was nice. It would be nicer if you didn’t have to move back home after losing your job in Tokyo. You can tell yourself it’s temporary all you want, but it’s embarrassing. Failing is embarrassing.

You sigh, realizing you should probably head back home before it gets too dark. Despite the setting sun, the air has yet to cool off, and you find that your walk has left your throat parched. You glance around, smiling as you spot a convenience store. Nice.

You smile as the air conditioning hits your skin. You make a beeline for a bottled tea, already excited for the refreshing taste. You hum happily as your eyes tilt up to the man behind the register. His eyes are glued to an issue of something, and a cigarette dangles from his lips. Ukai Keishin.

You feel your heart stutter as you watch your best friend from high school read. His hair is long and blonde now, and it just makes sense. He’s handsome, you realize. You always thought he was cute in high school, but he’s a man now.

“No fucking way,” you breathe out, drawing the gaze of the man sitting behind the counter. His eyes widen, recognition clear as day in them.

“Y/N?” His voice is unusually quiet, and his eyes bore into yours, as if you would disappear again if he looked away. Guilt swells uncomfortably in your stomach. You hadn’t talked to him in years. You moved away, and you lost touch with your high school friends, including him. Especially him. He slowly stands to look at you, putting what he was reading down and shoving his cigarette into an ashtray.

Yes, you had been gone for awhile, and yes, the two of you hadn’t talked. But you were both here now, and a second chance has been given to you, wrapped up like a present in the form of a stunned employee at a convenience store.

“Ukai! I forgot this was your mom’s place!” you yell excitedly, rushing behind the counter to trap him in a tight hug. He huffs against you, tensing, before awkwardly wrapping his arms around you.

“What the hell are you doing here?” His words stir something hot and sticky in you, and you push away from him, sheepishly smiling.

“I lost my job and couldn’t find another one in time, and uh, here I am.” Your nose scrunches up at the thought of your tiny, Tokyo apartment that you would never return to.

“No shit, huh? Are you back with your parents?” Your shoulders sag and you nod, pursing your lips.

“Yea, but what have you been up to?” you ask, eager to learn more about your old friend.

“Y’know, working here, hanging out with Shimada and Takinoue. I’ve also been coaching Karasuno’s volleyball team. They’ll sometimes stop by.”

“Oh that’s absolutely perfect,” you laugh. “My volleyball boys never grew up, huh?” He rolls his eyes at you, crossing his arms in feigned annoyance. You hold your hands up in peace, trying to suppress the giggle that’s bubbling in your chest.

“Well, you clearly grew up,” you offer, letting your eyes trail over him. His eyes widen again, and a faint blush covers his cheeks, so soft you almost don’t notice it. “But you’re still reading the same shit.” He lightly punches your arm, and you stick your tongue out at him.

“Anyways, the four of us should get dinner sometime.” You cock your head to the side, trying to gauge his reaction. He snorts and rolls his eyes at you, but there’s a small smile on his face. That's promising, you muse to yourself.

“Yea, that sounds good. And I’m sure Shimada and Takinoue will say yes. I can text you when we’re able to.” He pauses, and his eyes drop to the ground. Your stomach twists into knots as he awkwardly rubs the back of his neck. “Is your number still the same?” It’s an innocent question, and yet you feel like the floor has dropped from beneath you, leaving you unbalanced.

“Uh, yeah,” you murmur, feeling guilty when he nods and presses his lips into a thin line.

“It was good seeing you, Y/N. I’ll text you.” You nod, slowly backing up to the door. You give him a small wave before pushing the door open, stepping back out into the warm air. Your body moves on autopilot while your brain goes into overdrive as you ponder how you can properly mend the bridge between you two.

It’s only when you’re halfway home that you realize you forgot your tea.

________________________

When Ukai texts you, you can’t help but to cringe at the past messages that were left unanswered. Random little texts, asking about your day, how’s Tokyo, updating you on everyone back home. You had meant to answer them, but you just couldn’t. You could pinpoint the moment you stopped answering his messages, and you shudder, remembering how harsh he had sounded over the phone. Not that you had been any kinder. After that night, his texts trickled in slower and slower, until they ended completely.

You inhale sharply, closing your eyes. But you’re back now, and he’s texting you again. You blink your eyes open, rereading his message.

Hey! How does Saturday at 8 work?

Taking a shaky breath you quickly type out a response that you hope isn’t too eager.

That sounds great! Is that one place with the great hiyashi chuka place still open?

The four of you used to eat there in the summertime, feasting on cold ramen and an assortment of toppings. Takinoue used to flirt with the waitress, who remained unimpressed throughout the years. You smile fondly at the memory, excited to see everyone again. Your phone vibrates, pulling you from your thoughts.

Yea and it’s still the only hiyashi chuka place in town

You hum at his message, thinking of how long the four of you used to wait while the summer sun blazed down, and sometimes Kimi would go with you. She had a massive crush on Shimada, one that left her helpless to your and Takinoue’s teasing. Your phone buzzes again, and you look down, slightly surprised at the second message.

I’m excited to see you again.

That was promising indeed.

And yet you can’t help the way butterflies terrorize your stomach as you stand outside the old restaurant. Part of you wants to turn around and walk home; another part of you wants to throw up. You inhale sharply, steeling yourself, and you walk through the door.

It’s just like you remember, and you feel more at ease. You know this place, and these are your friends. There was no reason to worry. But still…

Your eyes flash across the room, before zeroing in on your usual table. You grin widely at Takinoue who is waving you down. Shimada sits next to him, smiling softly as you approach. Immediately, Takinoue gives you a bear hug, making you giggle.

“It’s been way too long,” he whines before letting you go. Shimada rolls his eyes, offering you a small wave. You slip into the empty seat next to Ukai, greeting him quietly. He nods, a small smirk tugging at his lips. The nerves that had been eating away at you dissipate immediately. The conversation flows easy, as if you never left. And when the hiyashi chuka is brought out, your mouth waters just like it used to.

“I’m telling you, it’s not as good anywhere else,” you bemoan. Shimada laughs at that, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“I think that’s nostalgia talking.” You stick your tongue out before shoveling noodles back into your mouth. Ukai snorts, before taking a sip of his beer. Something warm and soft builds up in your heart, spilling out into your entire body.

Happily full of noodles, you settle back against your chair, trying to ignore the way Ukai’s arm rests against the back of your chair. His touch is feather light, but the warmth seeps into you. You missed this, you missed this, you missed him.

When the four of you are standing outside, you shift on your feet, not wanting to have to say goodbye again.

“We should get drinks sometime,” you say to no one in particular. Takinoue slings an arm over your shoulder and his grin is so wide that alone almost makes you laugh.

“Ah yeah! Now you’re talking, Y/N!”

“That is something we can all do together now,” Ukai mumbles, fishing out a cigarette and a lighter from his pocket.

“Then it’s settled,” you chirp happily, “We’ll meet up for drinks next weekend, if that’s okay with you guys.” Ukai’s eyebrows pinch together in thought, and he slowly nods.

“That should work.” You pull away from Takinoue, choosing to wrap an arm around Ukai’s waist, and pulling yourself flush against him.

“Perfect! It’ll be nice to get out of the house before I move into my new apartment.” Ukai rolls his eyes, but drapes his arm across your shoulders anyways. You try not to notice the way his thumb lightly strokes your arm.

________________________

The lights in the bar are dim, and you’re sipping on a lemon sour, nestled into the booth next to Ukai. Beers litter the table, as well as small dishes of food, and some shots you all have yet to drink. Takinoue’s cackle barrels through the air as you offer up another idea.

“No, I’m serious! We could all get dinner! I’m sure my parents would be happy to see you guys again.” Ukai scoffs, crossing his arms and fixing you with a pointed look.

“Please, your parents hate us,” he grumbles. A laugh bubbles through you, and you shake your head.

“They did not!” you promise, but your words sound hollow even to yourself.

Takinoue’s eyebrow quirks up in disbelief. Your lips twist into a grimace, memories of your parents looking tired whenever the boys dropped you off at home. “Okay, maybe they did, but ONLY when my grades would start slipping.” Shimada nods at your words.

“Yea, that sounds right,” he says solemnly. You pout at his calm and unsurprised tone.

“I promise they loved you guys. Just like I know your granddad loved me,” you giggle, poking at Ukai’s side. He rolls his eyes, and he downs his shot.

“Please, like that man likes anyone,” he grumbles. You stick your tongue out at him, and punch his arm lightly.

“Alright, but I got you through high school, so he has to like me” you counter, mouth twisting into a smirk. Ukai glares at you, memories of late night study sessions, and rushed homework help before class flood his mind. His shoulders sag, and he lets out a sigh.

“That’s fair I guess. Gotta piss. I’ll be back.” He pushes out of the booth, leaving you with Takinoue and Shimada. Shimada smiles softly, before fixing his gaze on you.

“Kimi was in Tokyo too, right? Have you seen her at all?” he asks. You grin, taking a sip of your drink.

“Yea, we actually got lunch the day before I moved.” You pause, eyeing him carefully before continuing. “Shimada, did you know she had the biggest crush on you in high school?” He blushes a bright crimson, choking on his drink as Takinoue cackles.

“Yea, dumbass. It was obvious.” Shimada glares at him, nursing his beer.

“Well, I clearly didn’t know. And no one thought to tell me?” You shrugged, shooting him an apologetic smile. Takinoue punches him arm affectionately, before his eyes settle on you, full of humor and mirth.

“Speaking of crushes, I was wondering how Ukai would be since you got back,” Takinoue laughs.

“What?” Despite the drinks you’ve had, you feel sober, something cold slinking down your back.

“He was head over heels for you back in the day,” Takinoue’s laughs die down, but he doesn’t seem to notice the way you freeze. Shimada, on the other hand, does, and he cocks his head to the side, monitoring your response.

You sputter, words locked in your throat. What they hopefully don’t know is that you had a massive crush on him too, and it’s only resurfaced violently since seeing him again. Even after what had happened. And yet that cold feeling heats up into something syrupy in the pit of your stomach.

“Well that’s news to me,” you say softly. “Guess I fucked it all up, huh?” Shimada and Takinoue exchange a glance, and you’re sure one of them is gonna say something, but when Ukai slips back into the booth that door shuts, locking their words on the other side.

“What’d you fuck up?” he asks, taking a swig of the beer he had left on the table.

“Ah you know, the usual. My life in Tokyo. And now I’m back with my parents. I did find a job though.” Shimada’s brows furrow, but he says nothing. Ukai hums, his thigh jostling against yours.

“Aren't you at your new place yet?” Your face twists in annoyance, and your head hits the back of the booth.

“I’m gonna have to stay with my parents for a few more days because a pipe apparently burst in my apartment. But I’m going to lose it. I can’t live with them anymore. Not at my age…” you trail off, lost in your thoughts.

“Stay with me. Until you can move in.”

Ukai’s voice cuts through the noisy bar, and you open your mouth stupidly, no words coming out. He stares back at you, making the butterflies that had been dormant for awhile snap back to life inside of you. He scratches at the side of his face, making pathetic attempts to backtrack. “I mean you don’t have to, and I won’t be there for a bit cause of training camp-”

“No, that sounds good.” You nod at him, an easy smile spreading across your face. “Yea, that sounds good.” His eyes lock onto yours, something dark and undefinable in them. Neither of you notice the coy look Shimada and Takinoue share.

________________________

The hot water streams around you, and you shut your eyes, relishing the way it feels on your skin. You had a long day at your new job, and the approaching weekend was the only thing keeping you going. Well, that and the fact that you were currently in Ukai’s shower.

He had been kind enough to offer you a place to stay, and already your thoughts are starting to drift to darker places. You had harbored a crush on him when you were younger, but you haven’t seen him in years. And yet the way he looked at you made your stomach drop.

You turn the water off, the cold air plucking at your skin and making you shiver. You wrap a towel around yourself, and dry off quickly, trying to forget about the ache in between your legs. It doesn’t work, but you pull on a pair of shorts and an oversized t-shirt anyways. You could at least pretend it worked.

Ukai’s apartment was exactly what you expected. The walls were littered with posters, books lay all over the ground, and there was a volleyball by the TV. He had rubbed the back of his neck, almost embarrassed when you first got there.

“It’s, uh, not much. Probably should’ve thought about that before I offered, but make yourself at home,” he mutters.

You had reassured him it was more than enough. You were just grateful to be out of your parents' house. You pad over to his spot near the tv, kneeling next to him. He eyes you from his peripheral, not looking directly at you. Nonetheless, it makes you shiver.

“Where should I sleep?” you ask, playing with the hem of his shirt. He nods his head back to the bed, and you flush.

“I can’t take your bed,” you sputter, stomach flipping. He rolls his eyes, a sharp smirk pulling at his lips.

“I gotta leave in the middle of the fucking night for training camp, remember? Take the bed.” His tone leaves no room for any argument, and you nod shyly, before shuffling over to his bed. He refocuses on the game he was watching as you pull the covers around you.

But you can’t sleep. Not when Ukai is so close to you. You flip onto your stomach and huff. He glances at you from over his shoulder and rolls his eyes. He shifts to the side, allowing you to watch the game from your vantage point.

You recognize the Karasuno uniforms, and something syrupy and nostalgic floods your veins. This must be the new team. The two of you stay quiet, the two of you lost in your own thoughts.

It’s only when the noise from the TV stops that you’re jolted back to reality. Ukai’s hand grips the remote tightly, face screwed up unpleasantly.

“Why did you stop talking to me?”

The words ring around his apartment, crystalizing into the air, becoming frigid and uncomfortable. You squeeze your eyes shut, letting your head rest against his pillow. When you open them again, he’s turned towards you, brows pinched and mouth twisted into a grimace.

“I didn’t-” you cut yourself off, pushing yourself up to your knees. “I didn’t mean to.” You hold a hand up to him, stopping his oncoming argument. “I wanted to, and I wanted to pretend like everything was okay, but how could I?” His frown deepens, but he stays silent, memories seeping uncomfortably into the air.

“Keishin,” you hissed into the phone. “Let it go.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? How could you be so stupid?” Your stomach drops at his words, but more than anything, you’re upset.

“I am not the stupid one. I’m the one who made it out of Miyagi. I’m the one who’s going to college.” You hear him inhale sharply, and you can practically imagine the way his eyes are narrowed right now.

“Right, right, right. And you’re also the one who’s sleeping with some asshole, who is way too old for you, and he’s just gonna forget you once he’s bored! If that’s not what a stupid little girl does, you tell me what it is! I’m trying to watch out for you!” he practically yells. You feel the oncoming tears sting the back of your eyes, but there’s something red-hot pushing you forward.

“Fuck you, Ukai. I actually found someone who likes me for once, you have to ruin it. I’m not a kid. You don’t know shit about my life here, and you hate it. If you cared so much, you could’ve asked me to stay. Fuck you.” He swears angrily at you, before the line drops. You stare at your phone, waves of nausea passing over you.

A week later he sends you a text, complaining about his grandfather, and telling you about something stupid Takinoue did. You couldn’t bring yourself to respond. His texts eventually slowed down, until he didn’t text you at all.

You shudder slightly at the memory, letting your eyes drop to the floor.

“You acted like nothing had happened, but I was still mad, and by the time I had calmed down, I thought you would hate me for not talking to you.” You wrap your arms around yourself, chewing on your lip. “And you were right by the way, about that guy,” you spit out. “The second someone prettier came along, he dropped me.”

When you flick your eyes up, Ukai’s jaw is tense, his brows furrowed. You dig your nails into your arm, inhaling sharply.

“Fuck, I wish I had been wrong,” he seethes. Your eyes widen, not expecting him to say that. In all honesty, you weren’t sure what you had expected him to say. “You deserve the world, Y/N. More than that piece of shit. More than Miyagi.” His words are colored with bitterness that makes your stomach curdle.

“That’s why I could never ask you to stay. You were supposed to get out of here.” Ukai’s gaze bores into you, the intensity of it giving you whiplash. Your heart melts at his words, and you can’t help but to feel regret for not trying to work things out back in the day.

“And I ended up back here anyways,” you mutter.

“Well, Miyagi has some perks,” he laughs, an easy smirk tugging at his mouth. You cock your head to the side, snorting in disbelief.

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“It’s got you now,” Ukai says lazily, while stretching his arms above his head.

Your heart swells in your chest, and you lunge towards him, wrapping your arms around him. He’s tense beneath you, but relaxes under your soft touches.

“I missed you, Kei,” you say gently. His arms drop to hold you to him, eyes closing as he basks in your attention.

“I’m sorry for what happened, and I’m sorry I tried to pretend like nothing happened. I’m pissed that you weren’t in my life, but that was my fault. And now that you’re here...don’t think you’re escaping that easy again.” You nod, and something hot stings the back of your eyes.

“I’m not,” you say gently. “I’m not gonna disappear again. I promise. You’re my best friend, Keishin. I missed you.”

“Okay. Now get some sleep.” His arms loosen around you, and you slump away from him. As you shift back into the bed, Ukai faces the TV, playing it and lowering the volume until it’s just white noise to your sleepy mind. With that, you lie down again, letting your eyes shut and the warmth of sleep overtake you.

Ukai is drawn back into the game, but your words linger in the air. You’re my best friend, Keishin. I missed you. He glances back at you, bitterness eating away at his stomach. He wants to be more than just your best friend.

He fixes his gaze on the TV, trying to shove those thoughts somewhere deep and dark. Eventually, when he looks at the time, he scowls realizing he’s gotta head out now. Letting out a sigh, he turns to face you again.

His heart tugs at how you’re curled up in his bed so sweetly. Guilt settles in his stomach at the thought of waking you at this hour, but he had to make sure you would be okay. His hand hovers above your shoulder, and he watches the steady rise and fall of your chest. You belong here. With him. He shakes his head, banishing the thought. Ukai gently shakes you, watching as you rub your eyes and blink sluggishly at him.

“Sorry to wake you, but I’m heading out for the camp now. The keys are on the counter. Stay as long as you need to, just make sure to lock up.” You hum at his words, nestling back into his pillow and shutting your eyes.

“Okay, Keishin. Love you. Have fun,” you murmur, before drifting back to sleep. He inhales sharply, eyes boring into your sleeping face. He scoffs to himself, shaking his head. You probably wouldn’t even remember you said that when you woke up. And yet…

Ukai shifts on his knees closer to your sleeping form. He ducks down, letting his lips hover over your forehead. He gently kisses your temple, while simultaneously trying to squash the warm feelings that flow through him. He pulls away quickly, the small peck only lasting a second or two, but his lips burn now, and all he wants to do is curl around you and hold you in his arms.

The thought rushes through him like cold water, and he straightens away from you, trying to ignore the way his heart thuds. Ukai’s lips twist into a frown, and he rises, grabbing his bag and quietly walking out the door.

________________________

The next few days are quiet as you go to work. It feels weird to stay at Ukai’s by yourself, but you have to admit that a weight has been lifted since the first night. It was like you could finally move forward in your friendship, the guilt evaporating and letting you fall back into a normal crush.

The evening you’re able to move into your apartment, it’s windier than you thought it would be. You didn’t mean to steal one of his hoodies, but you know he has a few pairs of the orange one. You had seen them in his closet. You slip the orange hoodie on, clutching the fabric to you. It’s warm, enough to protect you from the unusually powerful wind. You shut your eyes and take a deep breath; it smells like him. The thought makes you shudder.

You keep the hoodie on, promising to leave it in Ukai's apartment when you make your last trip in between. But when the moment comes, you can’t bring yourself to take the garment off. When you slip into bed in an unfamiliar place that night, his hoodie brings you comfort. As your eyes shut, you promised that you would return it the next day, when he texted you for his key.

Except you didn’t. You held onto his hoodie for two weeks. By the time you return it, it has already stopped smelling like him. And now, Ukai’s blinking at you from the doorframe of his apartment, confusion pulling at his eyebrows.

His hair is wet, hanging limply against his head, his normal headband nowhere to be seen. A towel hangs around his neck, and there’s an unlit cigarette in between his lips. You blink up at him blankly, trying to resist the urge to run your fingers through his hair.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” He cocks his head to the side, eyes trailing over your face curiously.

“I, um, came to drop this off.” You hold his hoodie to your chest, clutching it tightly in your hands. “But I probably should’ve told you I was coming.” His gaze is glued to the garment your holding, and the silence hangs in between you. Ukai flicks his eyes back to yours, something deep and dark brewing in them. You shift nervously under his gaze, opening your mouth as you hesitantly explain yourself.

“I borrowed it. When I was staying here. Just took me a while to drop it back off,” you mumble, feeling embarrassed.

“Keep it.” His voice is warm and steady in the air, making your spine tingle. Your hands drop from your chest, hoodie still clenched tightly.

“Oh. Okay.” Your mouth feels heavy, the words sticking to your tongue like molasses. “I guess I’ll head home. Thanks.” You start to turn away, when his hand shoots out, latching onto your wrist.

“You just got here.” His touch stings you, burning into your skin in a way that makes you crave more. You slowly, and weakly, you nod at him, letting him guide you inside his apartment.

“So you borrowed my hoodie, huh?” He smirks at you, eyes gleaming at the way you nervously sit at the edge of his futon.

“Yea, I was running out the door and it was colder than I thought, so I just grabbed it.” Your hands grip the fabric tightly, before you put the hoodie on the bed next to you. Ukai cocks his head to the side, his sharp smirk never leaving his face. “But it took me a while to return because, well…” He flops down onto the ground in front of you, resting his chin in his hand.

“Because it smelled like you,” you mumble, feeling butterflies slip into your veins. Ukai’s eyes widen for a split second, and he plucks the unlit cigarette from his mouth, throwing it to the side.

“Huh, no shit.” His words are colored in disbelief, but his gaze is unwavering, sending a small shiver down your spine. He shifts forward, pushing into your personal space until his face is right in front of yours.

“If I’m reading this wrong, you gotta let me know.” The frail dam that had been holding your emotions in place splinters, leaving your mind reeling. But one thing was sure: it was impossible to deny how you felt.

“You’re not,” you manage to sputter out. “You’re not reading it wrong.” He hums in satisfaction, eyes trailing over your face.

Ukai surges forward, and his lips are warm and rough against yours, and he steals your breath away immediately. A hand gently holds your face to his, the other wrapped around your waist, pulling you against him. Tentatively, you twist your fingers into his hair, and he groans against you. He pulls away from your lips, leaving you chasing after him. He pants against you, eyes dark and unreadable.

“Been wanting to do this for years,” he mutters, looking at you intensely.

“What took you so long?” He rolls his eyes, leaving sharp kisses down your neck.

“Too scared that I would push you away, and I did that anyways.” You pout at his words, tugging him up by his hair.

“I’m not going away again, and there’s nothing you could do to make me” you murmur, leaning forward to kiss him. His tongue prods at your lips, and you open your mouth obediently, letting him explore. Ukai’s hands are warm on your waist, squeezing the flesh that’s there. He pulls you onto his lap, shifting his legs under you so you’re flush against him.

“You good?” you ask in between kisses, scratching his scalp. His hips rock against you, and he pulls back to smirk at you.

“I’m more than good, baby.” Grinning, you meet his mouth again, letting your hips grind against him. His warm hands wander up and down your body, setting your skin on fire. They rest on your waist under your shirt, and his fingers tap at the flesh there. You hum happily, before leaning away and pulling off your shirt and tossing it behind you. Ukai freezes, eyes hungrily taking in the newly exposed skin. You flush as his hands start to trail upwards, ghosting over your skin.

You dip forward to kiss him again, and his hands reach around to fumble with your bra. You smile against his lips as he struggles, but the second it’s off, his hands are kneading your breasts.

“What are you smiling about?” he mutters against your lips, before pinching one of your nipples. You pull back and inhale sharply, biting your lip before tugging at his shirt.

“Not fair that yours is still on, Keishin,” you whine. He rolls his eyes, and pushes you off of his lap, letting you fall against the futon. Ukai strips quickly, a sharp grin on his face making you flush. He crawls forward, caging you in between his arms. His hips settle in between your thighs, and you can feel his erection through his boxers.

When he looks at you, his hair flops down. You lift your hand, running your fingers through it. He leans into your touch, grinning before bending down to kiss you. His lips are warm against you, and he doesn’t waste any time, attacking your jawline and neck with sharp, biting kisses. You card your hands through his hair, eyes fluttering shut. His kisses switch into something more intense, and you gasp, eyes fluttering open as small bites litter your neck.

“Ukai,” you moan, fingers tightening in his hair. He leaves little marks until he reaches your chest. His tongue swirls around a nipple, fingers pinching the other. The small sparks of pleasure go straight to your pussy, and your hips shift underneath Ukai, making him groan.

His mouth is hot and relentless on you, and your nipples ache from the attention. His teeth lightly bite down on your breast, not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to make your eyes fly open.

“Keishin!” you squeal. He chuckles before letting his tongue run over were he just bit.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, not really meaning it, and he continues his path down. When he reaches the waist of your shorts, his eyes find yours, waiting. Biting the inside of your cheek, you shift your hips up, and Ukai grips the fabric, tugging down both your shorts and your underwear. His eyes focus on your exposed pussy, making note of how it’s already wet.

“Quit staring,” you complain, embarrassment flooding your system. He smirks down at you, using his finger to trail up and down your already soaking slit.

“So pretty and wet…” he mumbles. Your hips squirm underneath him, and his finger travels to circle your sensitive clit. You whine at the jolts of pleasure, making him smirk. His finger dips down, and he pushes it in gently. He thumbs at your clit, eyes flicking in between your face and your greedy pussy. Your tug at his hair, rotating your hips in time with his gentle thrusts.

“Keishin, more please,” you whine, making him chuckle. He slips another finger in, stretching you out. Your hands leave his hair to pinch at your nipples. Ukai’s head dips down to lightly bite the inside of your thigh, making you jolt. When he pushes in a third finger, you moan loudly, throwing your head back against the pillow. Something white-hot and foreboding pokes at the edges of your mind, threatening to spill over.

“I’m gonna cum, Kei,” you warn, eyes fluttering shut. His fingers curl inside of you, thumb still relentless on your clit.

“Open your eyes, Y/N.” His voice leaves no room for any argument, and you force them to open, watching as his fingers continue to pump into you. “Cum for me, baby.” He leans down again, eyes fixed on yours, and he bites the inside of your other thigh, and the pain combines with the pleasure, catapulting you over the edge.

You writhe and thrash against him, hips bucking up against his fingers. Ukai’s laugh fills the room, and he continues to move his fingers, letting you ride out your orgasm. When he finally pulls his hand away, you whimper from the loss. He presses a kiss to your hip before flipping you over.

You hear him shuffle, and you glance over your shoulder and see him kneeling behind you, boxers finally off. Excitement and arousal pool inside of you, and you squirm as his hands massage your ass.

“You’re big,” you murmur, making him laugh. He’s thick and long enough that you know it’ll feel good. But even then, you can’t help but wonder if he’ll actually fit. You flush facing forward again, but he leans down to press kisses to your spine.

“You good to keep going?” he asks in between each peck. You nod, letting your fingers dig into the sheets by your head.

“I’ve been thinking about this for years,” he groans, making you flush. His fingers dig into your ass, massaging the flesh. You squirm underneath him, feeling yourself get wetter under his touch. Ukai runs the head of his cock up and down your slit, and you inhale sharply, overcome with the desire to see his face.

“Wait!” you cry out, throwing an arm back to grab his arm. Immediately, he pulls away from you and freezes.

“What’s wrong are you okay? Do you wanna stop?” Panic colors his voice, and you shake your head before rolling over onto you back.

“I, uh, I just wanted to see you,” you mumble, feeling shy. Ukai barks out a laugh and smirks down at you, one of his hands moving to stroke your thigh affectionately.

“Fair enough. There’s always next time.” His predatory grin makes your cunt clench, and you reach up, gesturing for him to lean down. He cocks his head to the side, hair tilting with it.

“What is it you want?” You flush, letting your gaze go past his shoulder.

“A kiss.” His eyes light up, and he leans down, letting his lips ghost against yours. You push up, meeting his lips, and he chuckles. Ukai ruts his hips against you, letting his cock slide in between your soaking folds.

“Keishin, quit teasing me,” you whine. He rolls his eyes before pushing away, resting on his knees.

“Wanna watch your little pussy try to take me,” he explains, letting the head of his cock gently push into you. Your face contorts at the breach, and you wring your hands in the sheets. He whispers sweet words, eyes glued to your flutter pussy. He slowly rocks his hips forward, watching as he sinks in another inch.

You let out a choked moan, his slow movements emphasizing his size. His eyes snap up to your face, letting his hands squeeze your waist.

“Your sweet little cunt feels so good already,” he groans. Your hands tug at the sheets as you try not to squirm. But it feels nearly impossible with how red-hot his cock feels inside of you.

You preen under Ukai’s attention, his hands massaging your flesh as your pussy tries to relax around his thick length.

“So hot and tight.” His words shake as his eyes trail down your body to watch your pussy split around him as he inches in.

“You’re too big,” you keen, tears prickling in the corners of your eyes at the intense stretch, and nonetheless, the thought adds fuel to the fire in your belly, and your pussy clenches down harder on his cock. His thumb strokes delicate circles into your hip, and he smirks down at you.

“Yea, and the thought has you squeezing around my cock, huh? That’s pretty messed up.” You flush at his words, embarrassment coursing through your veins. You turn your head to the side, wanting to escape his intense gaze. Keishin leans forward, rocking his hips and pushing his cock slowly into you until he bottoms out. You let out a pathetic whine, covering your face with your hands

“Don’t get shy now, baby,” he coos, batting at your hands, which flop above your head. “I think it’s cute how tight you are around me. I’m just too big? Is that it, baby?” You moan, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him towards you. He chuckles as you bury face into the crook of his neck. Tentatively, Ukai slowly pulls out, every ridge and vein dragging deliciously against your walls. When he pushes back in, you groan against his skin, and your hands travel up and down the smooth expanse of his back, your nails leaving red lines.

His hand snakes in-between the two of you, and a calloused finger expertly traces patterns onto your clit. You moan loudly, and your body writhes against him. Ukai pulls away from you, and a cruel grin sprawls out onto his face.

“Are you gonna cum? Already?” You nod, pathetically bucking your hips against him still. “We’ve barely started,” he taunts.

“I can’t help it,” you choke out, nerves feeling overwhelmed by sensations. He hums at your words, licking his lips as he eyes your body.

“Okay. It’s okay. Do you wanna be good for me?” he gently asks. You squirm beneath him, hands gripping his biceps, and you nod your head.

“I wanna be good for you, Keishin,” you cry out, the walls of your cunt fluttering around his thick cock. “I’ll be good for you.” His smirk slips into a softer smiler, and he leans forward, grinding his cock into you, and leaving sharp kisses against your neck.

“Then cum for me,” he murmurs against your neck, before shifting to lightly bite your shoulder. Your eyes squeeze shut, and you cant your hips against him, pussy fluttering around him. You grip his biceps tightly, orgasm overwhelming you.

“That’s it. Creaming so pretty on my dick,” Ukai whispers, watching your face contort in pleasure. He ruts into you, fingers still expertly teasing your clit, in an attempt to draw out your orgasm. Your eyes crack open, small tears leaking from your eyes.

“It’s too much, Kei,” you squeal, nails digging into his biceps as you try to squirm away from him. He tuts lightly at you, his hot tongue swiping along the delicate bite mark that’s on your shoulder.

“I thought you wanted to be good for me,” he rumbles. You nod, letting your eyes shut again. The fingers that were tortuously circling your clit slip away to pinch you’re inner thigh. “Look at me, baby.” You pry your eyes open and pant against him. His clever fingers continue their ministrations, and his hips grind deeper into you, making your brain feel foggy and warm.

“I wanna be good,” you mumble, hands leaving his biceps to tangle themselves into his hair. Ukai makes an approving sound, and he kisses your cheek.

“Cum. Again.” A pathetic cry tears itself from your throat, and you focus on the intense pleasure you’re feeling. Ukai leans down, littering your chest with little sharp bites that make you keen. Your brows pinch at the intense pleasure, hips grinding against him. You’re already close again, and you tug at his hair, urging him to kiss you again. His lips eagerly find yours, and you feel him smile against you. You’re so close to falling over that edge again. Your cunt is absolutely drenched, and the erotic squelching makes you flush.

Ukai’s tongue prods at your lips, and you obediently open your mouth, letting him in. It’s sloppy and desperate, and it’s perfect. His fingers dig into your clit, pinching it, and you are flung into the stratosphere, stars popping into your vision. You gush around his cock, and he groans against your lips.

Your thighs twitch, and your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him close to you, urging him to still. He complies, peppering your face with kisses as you come back to earth.

“So pretty,” he whispers against you. You card your fingers through his hair as you try to catch your breath.

“Oh my god, Keishin.” Your voice wavers, and you're embarrassed by how hoarse you sound.

“Want me to stop?” You shake your head desperately at his question, and your legs tighten around him.

“No. I just need a second.” He chuckles watching as your screws up. “I didn’t think I was that sensitive,” you sigh. You unlace your fingers from his hair, wiping at the sweat that’s on your neck.

Ukai smirks at you as he shifts to kneel. His warm hands gripping your waist, keeping you flushed against him. You whine at the movement, pussy tightening around him. His eyes trail over where he enters you, admiring how you’re spread out for him.

“Or, maybe my dick’s too big for you,” he taunts, no real malice behind his words. You squeak at his words, feeling embarrassed and warm. “Yea, that’s it,” he continues, fondly looking at your messy cunt. “You’re so sensitive cause it barely fits in your cunt,” he coos.

“Oh my god,” you murmur, lazily wrapping your legs around him. He lets out a laugh, one that resounds through the apartment, and you smile at him, something syrupy running through your head. “And I think-“

You cut yourself off, nerves overtaking you. His head cocks to the side, and his thumb strokes your waist in a reassuring manner.

“I’m balls deep in you. Don’t get shy on me now,” he says gently, his soft tone colliding with his crude words.

“You’re so vulgar, Keishin.” You roll your eyes at him, a soft smile creeping onto your face. “It could be that,” you say, not wanting to repeat his words, “but I also think I may be sensitive cause it’s you.”

Your voice is soft, and you watch as Ukai practically melts. His arms wrap around you, pulling you against his chest. You moan as your weight settles on him, increasing the pressure from his cock.

“Are you being serious right now?” His voice rumbles through you, and you bite your lip and nod. You press a palm to his cheek, relishing in the way he leans into it.

“There’s no one for me but you, Keishin.” Ukai kicks his legs out behind you, letting you get more comfortable on his lap. His arms wrap around you, holding you close to him, and he buries his face into your neck. His hips buck up into you, making you squeal.

“Gonna fuck you so good. You’re never gonna be able to think about anyone but me inside this pussy.” He punctuates his words with a thrust, and your nails dig into his back. You rock your hips against him, as he sprinkles kisses against your neck.

“Ever since,” you pant, “ ever since I got back, all I’ve thought about is you. I missed you so much.” He moans into your neck, and his sweet kisses turn into little bites, nipping at the sensitive skin there.

“Did you touch yourself? Thinking about my fat cock pushing into you?” he mutters in between nips. Your brows pinch together and you nod as your exhausted pussy flutters again.

“Yes! But all I wanted was you!” Ukais teeth clamp down on your neck, not hard enough to break skin, but it stings. You squeal as he roughly changes positions again, forcing you on your back again, legs wrapped tightly around him.

His pace is relentless, pounding into you. Your fingers claw down his back, and his hands squeeze your hips.

“It’s too much, Kei,” you cry out, eyes squeezing shut. Ukai presses a searing kiss to your lips, thumb digging into your side.

“Please, baby. Give me one more. Cum for me one more time,” he mumbles into your lips. You nod against him, blinking through the tears. “Good. Just let me fuck you like this.”

His cock drives deep in you, making you keen. Your hands travel up to his hair, tangling into it, and tugging at the strands. He feels everywhere, his presence is overwhelming, hot and heavy. His hips rut into you, lips peppering your face with small kisses. Your cunts already oversensitive can feel your orgasm approaching.

“I’m close, Kei,” you choke out, pussy gushing around his cock. You flush at the lewd noises, but he just moans nuzzling his face into your neck.

“Give it to me. Wanna feel your little pussy squeeze around me.” You hold him to your neck, hips bucking into him. Ukai’s hand snakes down in between the two of you, and his fingers rub intense circles on your clit. Your eyes squeeze shut, as the building pleasure finally reaches its peak.

“Just like that, baby. Cum around my cock.” You writhe beneath him, your hands traveling to claw down his back. Your hot cunt grips him tight, legs tightening around his waist. “Just like that,” he groans, before his teeth sink into the base of your shoulder. You moan his name loudly, loud enough that you would be embarrassed later, but for not you don’t care. All you can focus on is the white-hot pleasure that’s coursing through your system.

Ukai’s thrusts don’t stop, plowing into you and prolonging your orgasm. He pulls his hand away from your clit, and he slips his arms in between your back and the bed, holding you tightly. You whine as you feel his hips begin to lose their pace, thrusts no longer steady. Your legs squeeze around him, keeping him close to you.

“Cum inside, please I need it,” you beg. He pulls away from your neck, eyebrows creasing in concern. “I’m on the pill. It’s safe, I promise. Please Kei, I need you to fill me, please, please, please.”

“Alright, baby. I’ll give you what you want.” His head drops back to the crook of your neck, as he stutters against you, hot spurts of cum flooding your pussy. He falls against you, before rolling onto his side, keeping you tight against him. His cock is still lodged within you, and you whine at the movement. Sweet kisses litter your face and neck, and you blink blearily at him. He slowly pulls out of you, grunting at the way your pussy flutters. You grimace as his cum drips out of your abused cunt.

“Gotta get you cleaned up,” he mumbles, before standing up and disappearing to the bathroom. You flop onto your back, trying to catch your breath. When Ukai returns, he kneels in between your shaky legs, and ever so carefully, he takes care of you. There’s something unusually soft in his actions, soft enough to make your heart squeeze. He also gets you a glass of water, which you gulp down. He lights a cigarette, as he watches your eyes start to clear up.

“Keishin, you’re kind of nasty,” you mumble, stretching your arms out above your head. His laugh rumbles through the air, as he takes a drag. He eyes you greedily, as if he’s going to eat you alive.

“This was nothing. There’s so much I wanna do to you.” His voice is low, heavy with exhaustion. “But for now I just want to hold you.”

“Well that can be arranged,” you tease, lying back on the bed. Ukai chuckles, putting out his cigarette and crawling forward to wrap his arms around you. You sigh in contentment, letting your eyes shut.

“I missed you,” he mutters, and you smile against him.

“I missed you too, Keishin.” Sleep tugs at your brain, luring it to a deep rest.

“Did you mean it? What you said?” His voice is unusually quiet, delicately piercing the air. His thumb gently strokes your arm. Your eyes flutter open, and your brows pinch as you try to recall what you had said.

“About what?” you ask, trying to stifle a yawn.

“What you said? About you and me?”

Oh.

You smile at him, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to his lips. When you pull away, you lean your forehead against his and you smile.

“The only person for me is you, Keishin. It’s always been you.” He hums happily before he pulls you against him.

“Good. Cause I was serious. I’m not letting you go again.” You shut your eyes and nuzzle into him, taking comfort in the way his arms wrap around you. And it’s in those arms that you embrace the most peaceful sleep you’ve had in years.✨

#ukai keishin x reader #keishin ukai x reader #coach ukai x reader #ukai keishin x you #keishin ukai x you #coach ukai x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #coach ukai smut #ukai keishin smut #keishin ukai smut #haikyuu smut #💫.ukai

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jungwonenthusiast · 3 years

Text

Field Trip

A/N: I’ve been working on this pic for a while, I hope you guys like it :)

Pairing: Jake Sim x fem! reader

Word count: 5.2k

Genre: fluff, high school au

Warning: mentions of virginity loss and porn, occasional swearing, nothing else I think

“How many shirts should I take?” Jake asks you through your phone.

“Uhm, we’re there for three days so take four just incase.” you reply and you pack your suitcase as well.

You two were preparing for your five day field trip to New York which was happening tomorrow.

You packed your favorite jeans and hoodies and even a dress just in case. You can't help but romanticize the hell out of New York after being stuck in this small town all your life.

“How many pairs of underwear should I take?” he asks again and you giggle. He’s like a kid sometimes. “How many times do you think you’ll change your underwear?” you say while sitting on your suitcase to get it to zip closed.

“Probably three but I’ll take four just in case.”

“What a quick learner.” you say and you hear him scoff.

Jake has been your best friend since elementary school when you scraped your knee during tag and he took you to the nurse’s office. He’s been a sweetie since day one.

“I doubt I’m gonna get any sleep tonight,” you sigh. “I’m too riled up.”

“Same,” he sighs. “I wonder how many flashers we’ll run into.”

You laugh. “Why is that the first thing you think of you creep.”

“Hey now,’ he chuckles. “I thought that was the stereotype.”

You hop onto your bed and pick your phone up, it looks like Jake’s doing the same. All you can see are his eyes and a bit of his nose bridge. His dark hair has started to grow out and it was poking at his eyelids.

Your phone pings with a text from Jake. It’s a horrendous screenshot of you climbing over your phone to get into bed. You gasp.

“I’ll kill you.” you tell him as he’s holding in his laugh. “I will do it.”

His laugh bursts out of his throat, jolly and warm. “Why I love it.”

“I hate you so much. Delete it.”

“No way,” he bunches his brows. “You have an entire photo album dedicated to bad pictures of me.”

“And I also have an entire album dedicated to good pictures of you.” you roll your eyes.

“You do?” he asks. “That’s a bit fangirly of you.”

“Me? A fangirl? Maybe Madeline but not me.” you scoff.

“Madeline?” his voice perks up. “She likes me?”

“Yeah, I thought you knew this.” you swear that you’ve brought this up before. Maybe he just forgot.

“Nuh-uh.” he says.

“Well...” you say. “do you like her back.”

“I mean she’s nice but,” he hesitates. “not really.”

“Why not? She’s smart and super pretty. I'm so jealous of her hair.” you say. Madeline was a tan ginger girl with curly fiery hair down to the small of her back.

“You have nice hair.” he says nonchalantly.

You touch it and rub it between your fingers. “It’s whatever.”

He scoffs. “You’re too hard on yourself all the time.”

“I’m a teenage girl, I can’t help it.” You defend yourself, but he isn’t lying.

“I’m bored, can I come over?” he says suddenly.

“Tonight? We have school tomorrow.” you reply.

“Maybe I’ll just sleep over.” he says while turning over in his bed. “I don’t think our parents would care.”

Sleepover? You two hadn’t done that since you turned eleven.

“Where would you sleep?” you ask him, already imagining how this would go.

“I don’t know on the floor.” he shrugs.

“I’m not letting you sleep on the floor I’ll feel bad.” you argue.

“I don’t care, I’m the one who suggested it, plus I miss you dude, I wanna hang out.” he says and you smile.

“I saw you on Friday.”

“Yeah, a whole two days ago.” he gets up off his bed. “Okay I’ll be there in ten.”

“What-” you start but he cuts you off.

He brings the camera up close to his face and he flashes you a smile. “Bye!” he hangs up.

Your palms feel a bit sweaty and you brush them off on your pants. Why am I nervous? You guys have had plenty of sleepovers before but the rest of the boys were always there, probably passed out from beer or a sugar crash.

You tidy your room up a bit and prepare a little blanket bed on the floor right next to your actual bed.

You hear knocking at the door right when you expected, Jake was hardly ever late.

“Hola~” he says as he walks in with his backpack on. He takes his shoes off before skipping over to your room. You giggle to yourself.

He falls back onto your bed with a big sigh. “I missed being here.”

“Why? There’s nothing cool here. Your house is way cooler.” you say and he smiles.

“Well I can’t deny that,” he shrugs and you punch him in the arm. “you’re the one who said it.”

“We get it rich boy.” you roll your eyes and sit down next to him.

“I’m just playing,” he sits up. “you know that.”

“I hope you showered after practice,” you say. “I don’t want you stinking up my bed.”

He whips his head to you, looking a little bit offended. “I am very clean alright? Here smell my hair.” he shoves his head into your face.

You let out a strangled noise and try to push him away. “Okay, okay!”

“No smell it,” he keeps his hair up in your face, it’s tickling your nose. “smells like mangos right.”

Admitedly, he's right. It smells like mangos.

“Yes it does,” you squeak out. “now please respect my personal bubble.” you spread your arms out and create an imaginary bubble between you two. He tries to tug at your arm but you bellow in a robot voice. “PERSONAL BUBBLE PERSONAL BUBBLE.”

“Fine, fine.” he falls back onto your bed again, laughing. “Lets watch something.”

You follow suit and tug your laptop into your lap.

“Hold on,” you get up and close your window, it was starting to get too cold.

You shimmy under your covers and pull up Netflix.

“Scary movie?” you click on the horror section.

“Sure but you probably won’t be able to sleep.” he teases and you roll your eyes.

“That was years ago.” you start to scroll through the movies.

“Mhm, and I’m never letting you live it down.” he says with pride.

During freshman year the gang decided to go to Jay’s house to watch It together and it freaked you out so much that you went to sleep in the boys room rather than the guest room.

You click on Hush, a movie you’ve been avoiding because it’s about one of your biggest fears, a home invasion.

“I thought you hated this movie.” Jake says, crossing his arms. “I do, but I need to face my fears eventually right?” you click on it and get up to turn the lights off.

Jake soon gets under the covers as well. You both cringe and slap each other every time your feet touch.

“Yo yo yo yo watch out!” Jake whispers and pulls his hood over his head, something you both do when you’re nervous. You weren’t wearing a hoodie so you settled with a spare blanket and draped it over yourself like a cloak.

“Oh shit,” you whisper. “look behind you!” you yell at the main character.

By the end of the movie both of your bodies are stiff and sore from being so tense for two hours straight.

“I thought she was gonna die.” you sigh and you shut your laptop.

“Nah, they couldn’t kill the main girl.” Jake says, comfy and cuddled up in your duvet. “She was so smart.”

“Yeah she was.” you yawn and then kick Jake in the side. “Go to your bed.”

He groans. “It’s warm here though.”

“Go and I’ll make pancakes tomorrow.” you say.

He perks up and follows your orders.

You relax into your mattress, but you miss his warmth next to you. You ignore that.

Your alarm goes off at 6:30 and Jake sleeps right through it.

“How the hell does he get up in the morning?” you whisper. “Probably Leila.”

He’s sleeping on his side, cuddling a stuffed animal he must’ve stolen from your bed while you were asleep.

You stretch your back before washing up.

Jake’s POV

My serene sleep is interrupted by pokes at my shoulder.

“Get up poop.” she says. I almost forgot that I was at her house. I crack my eyes open to find her crouching next to me.

“Good morning.” I croak out.

“You stole ginger.” she points at the stuffed bunny in my arms.

“I was lonely.” I say before sitting up and rubbing my eyes. “What time is it?”

“7:30,” she says holding in a giggle. “go wash up so we can eat.”

“What’s so funny?” I ask her as she walks away. “You’ll see when you look in the mirror.” she says.

My eyes widen. Did she draw a dick on my forehead or something? I thought we swore to never do that.

I scramble to her bathroom to meet some gnarly bedhead. I have no clue how guys have good messy hair, my hair is either boring and flat or just messy.

“Jesus.” I say to myself and try to run my head under the sink.

I brush my teeth and secretly use her facial cleanser.

“So fancy.” I whisper while lathering it up on my face.

I can already hear her voice in my head when I’m drying off saying “don't forget to put lotion on, and face lotion, not body.”

A stack of pancakes is waiting for me in the kitchen, just as she promised.

“Thank you mom.” I say to her before digging in.

She sits across from me with her own plate of flap jacks. She looks so pretty this early in the morning. Her face is fresh and sparkly and her eye bags somehow just make her prettier. It’s cloudy out and I can tell she’s cold she way her body is bundled up in her chair.

I still remember the moment I realized that I liked her. It was seventh grade and we were at our town’s annual fair. She got a bit sick after a ride with a lot of loopdey loops so I stayed behind with her while the rest of the boys continued to go on every ride they pleased. She told me to go with them and that she didn’t want me to miss out but I said that it was fine and that I liked hanging out with her anyway. She smiled her bright smile at me and rested her head on my shoulder for a moment. Then she threw up on my shoes. Like projectile cotton candy, funnel cake, and other miscellaneous fair food vomit. And I didn’t even get that mad, I was more concerned for her. After that I figured I liked her, because if it were Jay I would’ve beat him up.

“Did you have any nightmares?” I ask her and she shakes her head.

“Nah, I dreamt that Sunghoon married a dolphin. It was weird.” she sighs.

I choke on my pancakes. “A dolphin?”

“Yeah,” she laughs. “his name was Jerry.”

“And it was a guy too?” I hold my chest, trying not to choke.

“Don’t judge their interspecies homosexual marriage. It was beautiful.” she laughs and takes a big gulp of water.

I’m almost crying at this point. “Best dream ever. I can’t wait to tell Sunghoon this.”

“No!” her eyes widen. “He’s gonna think I fantasized about it or something.”

“What?” I cock an eyebrow. “Everyone knows that dreams are uncontrollable sometimes.” “Still it’s weird. Imagine if someone told you that I dreamt of you marrying a dolphin. It’s be weird.” she says through a mouth of pancake.

“Did they have kids?” I cackle,

“I don’t know. How would that even work?”

“Maybe they had a surrogate or something.” I suggest.

“Oh god,” she shakes her head, smiling. “we need to stop. I feel like I'm violating him.”

“Alright, alright.”

“Should I wear this shirt or this sweater.” she asks me as we’re getting ready in her room.

“Sweater. It’s probably gonna be cold.” I say while tugging socks on.

“Shit you’re right. Then I won’t be able to wear this dress.” she holds up a little dress that flows out a bit from the waist.

“Bring it anyway and maybe you can wear it for a second so I can take pictures for you.” I suggest and she smiles.

“Good idea.”

We both settle of hoodies and jeans and say goodbye to her parents before hopping in my car.

We get to school right when people start getting on the bus to the airport. We throw our luggage into the bottom carrier and get in line.

“Yo!” I hear a familiar voice call as we get on. “We saved seats for you guys.”

Jay, Sunghoon, Heeseung, Jungwon, Sunoo, and Niki have already gotten comfortable in the back of the bus. Niki was already asleep. Y/N couldn’t help but pat his head before settling down next to Jungwon. The bus wasn’t a school one but one of those fancy ones they bring out once a year.

I sit down next to Sunghoon and dap him up.

“What’s up.” I say while putting my backpack down by my feet.

“Tired.” he says. “Valentina kept me up all night.”

I raise an eyebrow and he smirks.

“For real?” I ask and he nods. “No way.”

“Yeah way.” he says and holds up a fist.

I fist bump him and pat him hard on the shoulder.

“You’re a man now Sunghoon.” I congratulate him and he snickers.

“What does that make you then?”

“I’m taking my time alright? I’ll get there eventually.” I say, a little embarrassed.

I look back to check out what she’s doing when we start to drive off. She’s fast asleep with her cheek pressed against Jungwon’s shoulder. He looks like he’s about to dose off too. Cute.

Sunghoon and I watch a couple episodes of Death Note before we arrive at the airport. Sunoo shakes Y/N and Jungwon up.

She’s still groggy as we walk into the airport and grabs onto my arm for leverage. My heart jumps a little. It’s not often that we touch despite how much I think about touching her. I could stare at her back all day. She could ignore me for the rest of my life and I’d still be happy to be in her presence. Mental note to all of you: do NOT let your feelings get to this point.

Soon we’re on the plane and she chooses to sit next me. I silently celebrate. Sunoo and Sungoon behind us, Heeseung and Niki next to us, and Jay and Jungwon in front of us. Sunoo pokes his head over her seat.

“Do you have chapstick I can borrow.” he asks with his blonde hair flopping over his forehead.

She digs into her bag and hands him a small tin of lip balm.

“Thank you!” he says and she nods.

“Are you that tired?” I ask her.

“Mhm,” she sighs and shuts her eyes. “I forgot to drink coffee this morning.”

I put in my AirPods and start to watch Lady Bird. She looks over and takes an AirPods out of my ear.

“I wanna watch too.” she say and puts it in her own.

We take off for the six hour trip and soon Y/N is sound asleep. Her head kept dropping forward so I pushed it up and pulled it to rest on my shoulder. This was not on purpose. I can’t help but snap a picture of her and add it to the good pictures of her album. She looks so peaceful and comfortable and gorgeous. I lay my head on hers for a moment before continuing the movie.

Y/N’s POV

After two hours of unsatisfying sleep, and hour of gossip with Sunoo, and three hours of chit chat with Jake you finally arrive. You sit up and stretch as best as you can in the plane. You pull you backpack onto my back and get you luggage down from the overhead bin. It’s already five p.m. when we get off and your stomach is growling.

We take another bus to the hotel and you can’t help but admire the city life as we drive there.

You’re roomed with two other girls at the hotel but you don’t even bother unpacking. You know you’re gonna be in the boys’ room anyway.

Mrs. Gilroy gave us tonight to do whatever we wanted as long as we were back at the hotel by ten p.m.

You sneak into Jake, Jay, and Sunghoon’s room as soon as you can. And when you get there, it’s already a mess.

“Good lord.” you say as you’re met with clothes all over the floor and mini bottles of liquor on the beds.

“You guys are drunk already?” you scrunch your nose and drop your stuff in a corner of the room.

“No.” Sunghoon says to you lazily with a little smirk on his face. You can’t help but giggle. Sunghoon is pretty adorable when he’s drunk.

“Are you drunk too?” you turn to Jake and he shakes his head. His pink cheeks give him away though. “You’re all bad liars.”

“Lets go swim.” he says excitedly.

“There’s a pool? I didn’t bring a swim suit.” you say, bummed.

“Can we go later, I’m hungry.” Jay says and you agree.

“Me too.”

Jake tugs at your arm. “Come on~ we can order room service or ask Jay to get us something.”

“We can get you guys something.” Sunghoon says, pulling a hoodie over his head.

“Please?” Jake looks at you with shiny eyes. He’s and adorable drunk too.

You purse your lips and sigh. “Fine. But I don’t have anything to wear.”

“Just wear shorts and a shirt.” Jake says as he tugs his swim trunks out of his suit case.

“I didn’t bring shorts because you said it was gonna be cold.” you complain, crossing your arms.

“Uhm,” he stops for a moment. “you can wear my boxers then.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Huh?”

“What?” he looks at you. “They’re basically shorts. And they’re clean.”

You hesitate but then comply as always. He tosses you a pair of black Calvins.

You steal one of Jay’s shirts and make your way into the bathroom to change. You’re wearing a simple cotton bralette which should be fine for the pool. You bundle up the rest of your old clothes and stick them behind your backpack before heading out with Jake.

The pool is empty and huge and is only light by the lights inside.

“It’s so cold.” you rub at your arms as Jake sets your towels down at a seat.

“I’m sure the pool is heated.” he says and dips a toe in. “Yeah, it’s warm.” Before you can even reply, he tugs his shirt off and canon balls in. You turn your face to avoid getting splashed.

“How is it?” you call out as he emerges from the water. He shakes his hair around like a dog.

“It’s warm so come in, you look funny standing there.” he teases and you roll your eyes. You kick your sneakers off and try to make a peaceful jump in but you didn’t realize you were in the deep end. It takes you a moment to get your senses together and swim to the surface.

“Why is it deep?” you say, a bit out of breath.

Jake giggles at you. “Remember when we used to play and you were the mermaid and I was the-”

“Turtle companion.” you finish his sentence. “Yes, as clear as day.”

“Why couldn't I be a mermaid too? Why was a I a lame turtle.” he fusses.

“I’m sorry okay?” you laugh. “I was a mean child.”

“Yeah you were. I’ll never forgive you for shoving that clump of dirt in my mouth.”

You burst out laughing, flailing your arms in the water to try to stay afloat. “You deserved it!”

“I did not!” he protests.

“You cheated in handball! It was one hundred percent deserved.” you say, swimming over to him.

“I barely cheated!” he calls out, starting to swim away from you.

“Barely? I would’ve won and been champion of our grade if you hand’t pulled that shit!” you say, still laughing and swimming after him.

“Why are you chasing me?” he says while hopping around the pool where he can touch the ground.

“So I can shove another clump of dirt in your mouth.” you try your best to get him but your heavy cotton shirt is holding you back. You don’t let it stop you though.

You finally get to him and tug his arm. He yells as you push him underwater. He finds the ground though, and shoots up soon after.

“Are you trying to drown me?” he looks at you, astonished but giggly.

“Maybe.” you shrug before tackling him again. It had been a while since you two wrestled like this.

You’ve got him under water for a bit until he finds your rib cage and plunges you in. It’s hard to hold your breath while you’re laughing. You feel around for him and pinch his thigh only semi hard. He lets you go after that.

“I won!” you celebrate with your fists in the air.

“You used pain, that isn't fair.” he rubs at the area that you pinched.

“Don’t be a sore loser. I won fair and square.” you cross your arms. “Fine.” he admits his defeat. “that pinch hurt though, come kiss it better.”

Your face twists. “Nuh uh.” you say plainly.

“Please?” he asks. “I will drown myself right now.” You laugh at him.

“I will do it!” he insists.

“Okay, okay! I’m not to going to kiss your leg you weirdo but I’ll give you a hug.” you float over to him and wrap your arms around his shoulders. “I even pinched you lighter than I normally would.”

“I’m sensitive.” he says into your neck and you giggle.

His arms feel so right around your waist and you struggle to decide when to let go, so you just don’t, and neither does he. He holds you decently tight and you feel him pat your back.

You’ve hugged plenty of times before but it felt a little different this time. Probably because you’re pressed up against his bare skin. It makes you feel a bit sheepish.

You pull away from him. “Feel better now?”

He nods with a smile. His cheeks are pink, but this time it’s not from the liquor.

Jake’s POV

I can’t help but feel disappointed when she lets go of me.

I shouldn’t have patted her back that's a dad thing to do.

Her makeup has started to run down her face which makes me giggle.

“What?” she asks.

“Your mascara is making you look crazy.” I say and her hands fly to her face.

“Shit I forgot I had it on.” she attempts to wipe it away but all it does is smear it across her face.

“Here,” I say and float over to her. “I’ll help you.” this was not on purpose.

I hold her face as gently as I can in my hands and rub the runny mascara off with my thumbs. I dip my fingers into the water to get all of the bits off.

I want to kiss her so badly, but I know that I’ll never do it. Sometimes I get irritated at myself for not being able to confess. I think Jay and Sunghoon get irritated about it too.

“You talk about her all the time man just ask her out.”

I don't know why I can’t do it. If she rejects me she’ll do it nicely and things would go back to normal pretty soon. But I don’t think I could live knowing that my feelings would never be reciprocated. Sometimes I get a feeling that she likes me too but I can never be too sure.

“All gone.” I say and she thanks me.

She lets her self float on her back. She has a small smile on her face and she’s so pretty I could cry. There have been multiple times where I nearly cried over how much I like her.

“What are your thinking about?” I ask.

“You know I never know how to answer that.” she bleats. “My mind always goes blank when you ask.”

“Well try to remember what you were thinking about then.”

“Us.” she says plainly. “Us?” I questioned. “What about us?” “I don’t know, just how I met you guys and how happy I am to be friends with you all.” she says.

Oh. She meant all of us.

“Yeah me too.” I agree, trying not to sound down. “Who’s your favorite?”

She snorts. “I don’t have a favorite.”

“Of course you do,” I say. “and it better be me.”

“Why would it be you?” she jeers.

I frown. “Because we met first.”

“I’m kidding, of course you’re my favorite.” she admits.

“And why is that?” I egg her on and she rolls her eyes.

“Because we met first.”

I sigh. “Is that all?”

“Mhm.” she says.

Y/N’s POV

You’re met with InNOut that Sunghoon and Jay got and also a room full of teenage boys. The younger ones were laying on their stomachs on a bed together, watching something on a laptop. Sunghoon and Jay were trying to watch t.v. You say trying because of the furious clicking on the remote.

“What the hell are you guys trying to do?” you and Jake plop onto the one empty bed.

“Trying to find the porn.” Jay grumbles.

“Infront of the children?” you look over at the younger ones.

“They don’t care they’re watching YouTube.” he says, still clicking.

You take a bite of your burger. “You have an endless arena of porn on your phone why do you want the t.v. one?”

“The t.v. makes it special.” Sunghoon says.

“Weird.” you mutter to yourself. “They’re probably gonna make you pay for it too.” Jake chimes in.

“Do you think it’ll go to the school’s credit card or whatever?” Jay asks with wide eyes.

“I don't know but if it does they’ll know it’s from our room.” he says through a full mouth.

You grab pajamas out of your bag and head to the bathroom to shower.

You come out feeling fresh and the younger ones have gone back to their room now.

“My turn,” Jake says, walking into the bathroom.

You sit next to Sunghoon on his bed and start scrolling through your phone.

“Should I get this sweater or this one.” he holds his phone up to you and shows you light blue sweater and a black one.

“Second one.” you say.

“Really?” he questions. “I feel like it’ll make me look emo.”

“You should become emo honestly. It would look good.” you reply and he chuckles.

“You’d have to help me with my eyeliner every morning.”

“Yeah,” you giggle “wait can I do it right now? I wanna see how you’d look.”

“Right now?” he cocks a brow and you nod. “Okay but don’t give me raccoon eyes.”

“I won’t I won’t.” you rush over to your bag and bring your make clutch to the bed.

“Hold still.” you tell him as you give him smokey winged liner.

“It tickles.” he says, trying not to blink too much.

“Beauty is pain.” you clean up the wing with your nail.

In a couple minutes you’re done. “Finished." you say.

“Lemme see.” he grabs a hand mirror from your clutch and holds it up to his face. “Hold on. This looks kinda good.”

“Right?” you had to admit it; he looked gorgeous.

“Why are you so pretty?” Jay says from his bed.

Soon Jake came out of the shower and it was hard to deny how good looking he is especially with his damp hair. How could someone make a t-shirt and sweats look so good? He dumps his laundry by his bag.

“Does Sunghoon have makeup on?” he asks, settling onto his bed.

“Yeah doesn’t it looks nice?” you ask and he agrees.

“Y/N are you gonna sleep here or in your room.” Jay asks.

“I thought I would just sleep on the floor here.” you suggest and he furrows his brows.

“No that’s mean. Share a bed with someone.”

“You should sleep with Jake.” Sunghoon elbows you in the side and you shoot him a dirty look. “We all know he wants you to anyway.”

“Fuck off Sunghoon.” Jake looks over at him with a piercing stare, a contrast to his pink cheeks.

“Is it okay if I do?” you ask him and he nods.

“Yeah for sure.”

Sunghoon snickers.

“I hate you.” Jake scowls.

After a couple hours of watching movies and horsing around it’s nearly midnight and your eyes are getting heavy.

You crawl under the covers and scroll on your phone a bit before trying to sleep. Despite how tired you are it’s hard to sleep with the boys chatting and snickering to each other.

“Can you guys quiet down?” you ask them.

“Sorry.” Jay says.

After maybe an hour of sleep, you feel someone get on the bed. Probably Jake, you think to yourself. His little sighs as he gets comfortable are cute.

“You awake?” he whispers.

“Mm?” you turn on your side to face him. “Yeah.”

“Cool.” he says. The room is dark but the moonlight helps you make out the outline of his face.

‘What’s up?” you ask.

“Nothin.” he says and you giggle.

“Okay weirdo. Go to bed.” you close your eyes, stilling facing him though.

“I’m not tired.” he says.

“Count sheep.”

“That never works for me.” he sighs. “Sing me to sleep.”

You try to slap him in the arm but you end up hitting his face. “Oh shit sorry!”

“Ow!” he whines. “Why do you keep hurting me?”

“It was an accident!” you whisper and rub at his cheek a bit.

“Now I actually deserve a hug.” he pouts and you roll your eyes.

“You are not five years old.”

“I still want the hug.” he says plainly and you sigh.

“Fine.” you scooch over to him and pull him into your chest. You pat his back. “There there. Better now?”

He shakes his head. “It still hurts.”

“You’re embarrassing yourself.” you scoff.

“I have no shame when it comes to your affection, you should know that by now.” he smiles.

You feel his arm fall over your waist and his hand slide up your back. It gives you goosebumps.

You’re cuddling with him. You guys are cuddling right now. You think to yourself. No you’re not, you’re just...hugging. Right?

Jake pulls away to look at you. “I need to tell you something.”

“Are you gonna say your mom again?” you ask and he shakes his head.

“No,” he says giggling. “it’s something for real.”

“Okay what is it?”

He takes a sharp inhale. “I like you.” he winces.

Your heart jumps a bit. “I know.”

“What?” he laughs. “You’re very obvious about it.” you chuckle. “Are you rejecting me?” he asks and you shake your head.

“I would never.” you pull him in by the back of neck and push your lips against his.

#enhypen #enhypen jake #ehypen fluff #enhypen Jake fluff #Jake Sim fluff #Kpop fluff

220 notes · View notes

mooniefics · 3 years

Note

AFTER CONTEMPLATING FOR SEVERAL MINUTES:

reiner braun 🤪 + “please?? just pretend we’re dating. it’s only for today, i promise!”

this is literally the cutest moonie, i'm proud of you for hitting 250!! ilysm 💖✨💕

oh my gosh i’m so sorry this took me so long,, thank u so much for the request n the congratulations mar !! very happy that my first work for this event can be for my love, our one n only reiner ♡(｡- ω -)

in all your years of knowing reiner, you couldn’t say that you’d ever once heard him sounding so frantic.

“please?? just pretend we’re dating. it’s only for today, i promise!”

those were the exact words he’d used over the phone, imploring for you to come to the official marley high ten-year reunion and pose as his girlfriend. despite how you assured him that you were certain no one would judge him for being single, he seemed adamant that it would be the exact opposite. and after a few apologies for your laughter at his predicament and a brief negotiation over his payment of getting you your favorite drink from the cafe near your workplace for the next few weeks, it was a done deal.

though you admittedly felt a twinge of anxiety upon entering the venue of chattering adults, dressed in the best semi-formal outfit you had in your closet, you could see that he was the more obviously nervous one between the two of you.

“just relax, rei.” you murmured, slipping your hand in his and giggling at the way his arm tensed, “these are your high school friends! i’m sure they’ll be surprised enough that you managed to find a nice girl like me all by yourself—“ he huffed disapprovingly, earning another small laugh, “—and only ask about your work or something.”

you barely finished your brief attempt at a pep talk when a loud voice came from somewhere by the food table. “is that you, braun?!”

reiner’s jaw shifted, a sign you’d come to learn meant him holding back a wince, turning to see a man with slicked back hair and a broad grin on his face approaching. based on his heavy-lidded gaze, paired with the red solo cup tipping dangerously horizontal in his grasp, you assumed he was quite tipsy already.

“considering how late you are, i wasn’t sure you’d even show,” he chuckled, still having to peer up at reiner despite still being taller than you, “but the more i thought about it, the more i remembered you never were the punctual type anyways.”

“great to see you too, porco..” reiner replied half-heartedly, palm already getting clammy in your grasp.

you glanced momentarily between them, deciding to come to your friend’s rescue by clearing your throat, drawing the teasing attention away from him. “actually, he was late because of me.” you flashed a smile, leaning into reiner’s side. “just wanted to look my best since i knew i was gonna be meeting his old friends.”

“holy shit..” porco muttered after a moment of silence, hazel eyes blowing wide as he stared at you like you’d disappear if he blinked even once, only breaking his gaze to turn over his shoulder and call out, “piecky, c’mere! i think reiner’s actually got a fuckin’ girlfriend!!”

you barely stifled a laugh at reiner’s low sigh of discomfort, pointedly ignoring how the people around glanced at porco’s shout. “did you seriously used to hang around with that guy?”

“no..” he grumbled back, “he hung around the people i hung around with and always gave me shit for no reason.”

“wow, rei, feeling a little feisty tonight, are we?”

he scoffed as you reached up to poke at his cheek, able to see the pink flush that had settled over his sharp features despite the dim lighting, dodging your inquiry while he looked ahead. “he’s coming back.”

putting on the smile you’d practiced so many times right back on, you caught sight of a cheerful dark-haired woman sidling over to your small group. “reiner?! you seriously got even taller? who’s this?”

you both exchanged names, offering a hand for her to shake which she eagerly took, turning to reiner for affirmation of your identity, to which he said, “yeah, she's my.. girlfriend...”

“how long have the two of you been together?”

“a couple months—”

“—almost a year.”

you quickly laughed off the sudden nerves of giving conflicting answers, turning back to reiner’s friends and recovering with, “we’re not super big on keeping track of dates. you know how time flies when you love someone.” you turned up to reiner, lips perking into a doting smile, “right?”

his cheeks flushed an even darker red, a sheepish smile brightening his expression. “right.”

“looks like you’re the only single one, pock.” pieck teased, laughing when the man rolled his eyes and huffed.

“you’re still with zeke?” reiner asked, prompting her to extend her left hand, waggling her fingers to show off the large diamond ring on her finger.

“yep, engaged for two years now!”

“apparently still too good to come to anything she invites him to.” porco grumbled in response.

“i already told you he’s on a business trip,” she frowned, taking his cup from his hand and taking a generous sip from it, “i’m sure he would’ve come if he hadn’t had somewhere else to be.”

“whatever you say..” he sighed, letting her finish his drink despite his apparent annoyance.

thankfully, your small slip up had been ignored, allowing both you and reiner to relax when the two finally turned their attention back to you. the night progressed much less turbulently than you’d previously anticipated, reiner allowing you to handle any questions directed at your relationship, not saying anything when you frequently slipped in little white lies to make everything seem more convincing. it didn’t stray terribly far from the truth, you were entirely honest about the way you’d met and the things that had made you “fall in love with him”.

you took a strange amount of joy in posing as his significant other, just as he gave equally genuine reactions when you wrapped his arm around your shoulder or ate something from his plate of food, flustered and smiling all throughout. for a few brief moments, you almost forgot that he was meant to be pretending too. he’d seemed more than happy to see that you were getting along well with all his old friends.

you learned more about reiner in the hour that you’d been milling around the room with him than you probably ever had in the confines of the job environment that you’d met him in—intrigued to hear that he’d been the captain of the football team, feuded with the neighboring high-school’s while being head over heels for the captain of their cheer team, held the title of champion arm-wrestler for all four years he attended marley—little details that you made you would’ve never known had you never agreed to come. the unintentionally intimidating, humble, easy-to-fluster human resources manager that you’d befriended apparently used to be a total jock, always getting himself into trouble.

and, based on how many times you’d been congratulated on managing to stick by his side for longer than a few months, you could only assume that you hadn’t even scratched the surface of discovering the entirety of reiner’s character.

eventually, your small group of four that’d you started out the night with had reconvened, tipsy from constantly sipping on spiked punch, an excited exclamation from pieck made all of you turn. “look! the photo booth finally opened up!!”

she was already rushing away for the corner of the venue before anyone could say a word, everyone following suit with a laugh as she stuffed a five dollar bill into the pay slot.

“uhh, pieck, i think this thing was only meant for two people.. max.” porco said after drawing open the curtain, earning a frown from her.

“but i want us all to take a picture together!” she slid into the booth despite the observation, turning to you, “c’mon, i’m sure we could all squeeze in if you sat on reiner’s lap.”

you felt your face flush, knowing there was no way to work around her request without raising some kind of suspicion and ruining the act you’d both somehow maintained for the entire night. “sounds like a plan..!”

you could feel how tense reiner was behind you as you got settled on his thighs, hesitating to rest his hands on either side of you while pieck and porco struggled to work the screen before them. you were starting to regret not asking if this was okay with him before agreeing, but you were sure he would’ve found some way out of the situation if he was truly uncomfortable. he only seemed to be preoccupied with the thought of making you uncomfortable, something which made a flicker of affection warm your chest.

“alright! we’ve got four pictures,” pieck announced, “starting... now! and make the first a normal one!”

the first three pictures were the standard photo booth antics—one with all of you smiling normally, one with all of you making the most ridiculous face you could think of in five seconds, and one of all of you arguing over what the third photo should’ve been.

“do something cute for the last one to make up for the messed up one!” pieck demanded through her laughter, pointing urgently at the countdown on the screen, “hurry up an’ kiss or something!!”

you turned back to look at reiner, wide golden eyes gazing down at you, obviously unprepared for the steadily escalating circumstance that was only being intensified by the chanting of “kiss, kiss, kiss!” coming from the woman who’d paid for the photos in the first place. and although you knew you had no obligation to do what she asked just because she had been so kind to you despite only meeting you tonight, or because the timer was winding down towards zero all too quickly, you still found yourself reaching out a hand to settle just under his jaw, heart racing impossibly fast when you realized he was already leaning down to meet you halfway.

his lips were still sweet with whatever juice had been mixed with alcohol, skin warm and blushing from your proximity, the hand that had been resting in your lap wandering to lace your fingers with his. the exchange didn't last nearly long enough, the click of the camera drawing you back to the cramped reality, pieck's cheers through giggles and porco's disgusted scoff for you two to get a room.

"i better be invited to your wedding!" pieck joked, reaching across you to draw open the curtains in a silent sign for you to pry yourself away from reiner.

"likewise." you replied with a smile, almost giddy with excitement as you clambered out of the photo booth.

though reiner's expression just barely passed as casual, his cheeks were burning red, even the tips of his ears flushed as the four of you waiting for the machine to dispense your photos. the function was winding down fast, and as soon as your drawn-out goodbyes were finally finished, you and reiner left, hand-in-hand, much to talk over but neither of you willing to speak until you'd reached the privacy of his car.

you turned to him, smiling in the dim glow on the lights of his dash, laughing softly at his sheepish expression, "i know you said we'd only pretend for a day but.. you think i could request a little extension?"

#moonie's shooting star event 1 #reiner braun #snk reiner #snk #aot #reiner x reader #reiner x you #reiner x y/n #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk x reader #snk x y/n #snk x you #aot x y/n #aot x reader #aot x you #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction

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ill-skillsgard · 3 years

Note

Anything faust!valter

I usually don't enjoy vague requests like this, but I was writing a Faust!V piece anyway. So, I'll just put this here.

Warning: 18+ smut, mature language, anti-religious themes. **In this part: consensual sleep sex, family conflict, angst.**

Summary: Faust and Faith get caught in the act, propelling Faith to do the one thing she never thought herself capable: defy her father.

- Not based on Lords of Chaos. I use Faust!Valter’s likeness only as inspiration.

Read more Faust x Faith here [x]

A warm prodding awakened Faith in the early hours. Faust was pressed against her naked back, chest and stomach soft and contoured to her spine. Lower down, he nudged her with a growing erection. It twitched across her tailbone once, twice, and so on, in reflection with the man's heartbeat. He felt enormous behind her. Drawing his knees up, his thighs balled her and squeezed.

His breath spread over the back of her neck, followed by a crawling moan. Faust curled his hips under hers, seeking out the sleek warmth between her legs. They had fallen asleep with the TV on, and the same non-stop pornographic advertisements played with the volume low. The ruddy morning glow swirled up the moans, tenderizing the bedded bodies in low heat.

Faust whispered through strands of hair, "can I be inside of you?"

Faith raised her right leg, providing him access which he took with a slow but forceful stab. He trusted her whimpers and went along with each one, finding a steady rhythm guided by her noises. Sleep still licked at his eyelids, teaming with comfort to lead Faust back into a restful embrace. Even her enclosing wetness wasn't enough to keep his eyes open.

This process repeated. Faust fought lazily to stay awake, to stay hard inside of her. Faith didn't seem to mind the five-minute doses of lovemaking with a reprieve to doze. Car alarms, porn trailers and a gentle buzzing went off, ignored by the sleepy couple.

Faust picked up the pace eventually and lifted Faith's leg for less resistance. He slammed into her, wrapping one long arm around her midriff to keep her from bouncing across the bed. Anchored, Faith let the stretch soothe her to the core. Having him inside, muted and reserved to the pleasure and not the filth, was a rarity she longed to savour. Too often, Faust spent their time together teasing, making her feel like the hungry one, the desperate one. Now, he was the one who couldn't hold back.

"Faith... I'm gonna come soon."

Before she replied, he angled her face to smother her mouth with a kiss. His lips devoured her moans, tongue licking hers. He sent his hand down to her groin and pressed his index and middle finger together to create the perfect cushion for her clit.

"Does that feel good?" He asked.

"Yes," she smiled. "Yes, that's amazing."

"Mm, good. I need you to come at the same time as me."

The request struck Faith softer than his usual demands. Faust always told her exactly what to do, at the precise time, through clenched teeth, and if she failed to meet his expectations, he hissed and scolded her. Not this time. Faust paused his movements to get her up to speed.

"Mm, more, please," Faith said.

He fed her half his length. Anything more, and she would clench and mewl. Faust didn't want that kind of thing today. Working her clit with his fingers and pumping himself into her with care, Faust forgot everything.

Faith's cell phone continued to rumble. The first few rounds of vibrations had gone unnoticed, but now Faith was starting to worry. It broke her concentration, robbed Faust's caresses of poignancy. It was Sunday morning, and she hadn't checked in with her parents in a few days. By the shade of light filtering through the rust-coloured drapes, she deduced it couldn't be later than noon.

"Faust...I should answer my phone."

"No, baby. Just stay here. Get close with me."

"I can't," she said. "What if it's..."

"Don't answer. What's more important? Me, or him? You're a big girl. Make your own decisions."

Faith closed her eyes and waited for the vibrations to cease. Faust had not stopped slowly easing his cock inside of her, then out and back in. He delivered one stroke that was harder than the others and hooked her attention back to him.

"Come on, beautiful. Help me come."

It was another hour before Faust came to his shuddering end and spilled a shocking amount of cum both inside Faith and between her thighs. It dripped onto the bed, soaked the sheets and continued dribbling from her cunt even as he climbed down the bed to position his face there. He licked her from hole to clit, over and over until she moaned animatedly.

"Oh my god, Faust."

"You like that, baby? Let me lick that cum-soaked pussy for you."

Faust pinched the sensitive crest, revealing her clit and applying pressure. He used the months he'd spent eating her out to pull out all the tricks. He teased her opening with his middle finger, flicking her clit periodically to make her nerves jump.

"So much fucking cum in there. Oh, it's so nice watching it all dripping out of that perfect hole."

Again, the commotions of the outside world faded into obscurity while they played in their private bubble. Not even the indecency on the TV screen compared to Faust's green eyes watching her reactions while a perfect pair of lips toyed with every inch of her womanhood. She stroked his long hair back, but the black tresses fell over his face until he shouldered them out of the way.

"Are you ready to come for me, Faith?"

"Mm, yes. I'm ready."

"Yeah? What do you want? My fingers a bit harder? Suck your clit?"

"Both," she gasped.

Faust served two equally measured stimulations, enhanced by the slippery sound of his tongue. The peak fell into line, nudged forward by the mix of incentives working together to tickle her beyond pleasure. The noise delighted Faith, filled her with arousal, and she twisted and writhed as her climax approached. Matched with Faust's deep moans, the television and cars passing by on the street faded into obscurity. All thoughts of her neglected cell phone disappeared.

All of this smashed against an invisible wall and shattered before realization. There was a temperamental rapping at the door, followed by the boom of Faith's name from the other side. Faith shot up and away from Faust, clutching for a pillow to block her nudity.

"Faith! You better get out here, girl!"

"Daddy?"

"Oh, shit," said Faust. "Go to the bathroom. Now. Go on!"

Faith scrambled off the bed and grabbed her shredded panties from where Faust threw them the night before. In her haste, she missed her top and only brought her skirt into the washroom for coverage.

Faust wiped his glistening mouth, let the pounding at the door go unanswered until he caught his breath and climbed into his boxers. Prepared to face Stan, he wrenched open the door and found the man fuming, ready to throw his fists.

"Where is she?" Stan asked, bowling through the door and into the motel room where pornography still flashed on the TV.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Faith! Get out here now."

"You need to get the fuck out, right now. Faith's not here."

"Bullshit! Her phone's right there on the table."

Stan went to the bathroom door and banged hard enough the wood jumped from its frame. Faust hauled the man away from the door and met swift resistance.

"You can't be in here!"

"Don't tell me what I can't do. You have my daughter!"

"Daddy, please stop!" Faith cried from the other side of the bathroom door.

Stan glared at Faust with heat snapping behind his eyes. Not one to succumb to intimidation, Faust planted his feet and motioned for the man to leave.

"Don't make this violent, Stan. Faith's with me. She's a fucking adult."

The father noticed the television and spat on the carpet.

"She will never see you again if I have anything to do with it."

"That's just it... There's nothing you can do. So, I suggest you get the fuck out of here before something bad happens."

Stan ignored Faust and knocked on the door again.

"Faith, get dressed. You're coming with me."

"Daddy, you have to leave. I don't have any clothes."

"You son of a bitch," Stan hissed. "What the fuck have you done to my daughter? First, you don't answer calls, then I find you in here fornicating with this scumbag? What the hell is wrong with you, Faith?"

"Look, man, she doesn't have any clothes. Get the fuck out so she can at least get dressed. Or do you plan on dressing her yourself?"

Stan ignored Faust's comments with a sneer. "Have you forgotten your phone's tracking? How did you think this would end, Faith? Your mother and I thought you were taken! Get dressed right now, young lady. You are in for the punishment of your life!"

Faust followed Stan outside and watched the preacher thrash his fists. He recognized the car in front and smirked. The father's anger spread, fuelling Faust's urge to retaliate.

"You'll never keep her away from me," said Faust with a laugh.

"Shut your mouth."

"Can't handle the truth, can you? You hate that she loves me. You hate the thought of someone like me with her."

Stan whipped a warning look at Faust. The air outside was cool and raised goosebumps over his bare skin, but inside, his guts boiled. Faust longed for a more violent reaction. He wanted fire and destruction.

"I fucked her. You've no idea how many times I've fucked her."

Faith made it outside in time to witness her father advance on Faust. She shrieked as Stan's fist made contact with Faust's jaw and sent him reeling backward. He clenched the side of his chin and laughed, blood already coating his teeth.

"Oh, nice shot, big man. Come on. Beat the shit out of me. Show your daughter how a man handles things."

"Get in the car, Faith," Stan pointed.

"No, Daddy. I'm not leaving."

"Faith! I said get in the car!"

"No, Daddy! I won't go with you!"

Faith ran to Faust and threw herself around him, burying her face under his arm. Faust popped his brows and snickered.

"It's okay, babe. I'm fine. It was a good punch, though. Enough for an assault charge."

Faust kissed the top of Faith's head, eyes pinned to Stan while he licked his teeth.

"Get over it, preacher. She's mine."

"Stop it! Both of you stop, right now!" Faith pushed off Faust and stood in the middle of them. "Daddy, you have to go. I'm not a baby, and I'm not going to church. You can move the whole family across the country if you want to, but I'm staying and going to school."

"You are not missing church," Stan said.

"I'm old enough to make my own decisions. And I'm disabling my phone's tracker. This is an invasion of my privacy. And Faust... You keep quiet, too! Both of you."

The manager of the motel stepped out of the office, interested in the source of the commotion but not concerned enough to call the police. Fights broke out on the property all the time. Drapes pulled back, and anonymous eyes surveyed the scene as well. Faith suddenly felt far too exposed to the possibility a gust of wind might lift her skirt and reveal her nakedness. She reserved to make a point to Faust to stop ruining her underwear, but that would have to wait.

"Get in your car, drive back home, and maybe I won't press charges, old man," Faust negotiated.

"I'm not leaving without my daughter."

"Fine. You can stay here and explain to the cops why you punched me in the face and how you're trying to abduct an adult who has already stated multiple times that she doesn't want to leave. I'm sure that will all sound really nice to your congregation."

"Faith... You have one more chance. Get in, or else," Stan opened the car door.

She shook her head while disbelief of her actions sickened her stomach. Not once had she ever defied her father. Before the morning's incident, she didn't believe she had it in her to refuse him. The sky didn't turn red, and the earth refused to break open and swallow her. Faith understood what Faust had been saying; she didn't have to listen to anyone but herself.

Defeated, Stan got into the family car, staring at his daughter through the windshield. His oldest daughter, who he barely recognized, returned the stare until he drove off. Once the car turned the corner and was out of sight, Faust began to laugh.

"Stop laughing! Why do you think this is funny?" Faith asked.

"I dunno. It just is."

"No, it's not! Do you understand the trouble I'm in? You don't know what my dad will do. I'll have to move! I can't afford my own place working part-time."

"Baby, don't worry. You're not moving away from me. I won't let you."

Faith's delayed reaction hit all at once, like a storm cloud bursting above her head. Fiery tears stung her eyes as panic erupted from within her ribcage.

"So, what? You're gonna let me move in with you? Live in your tiny room with your weird roommate, who you hate? Because I highly doubt Mister Solitary will want me around twenty-four seven. You already can't handle more than a couple of days around me at once."

"Faith...Baby, come on. Don't say that kind of shit. We'll find our own place, obviously."

"You don't have a job anymore! You quit your band!"

"Doesn't matter. Just trust me. Stop crying, and trust me, okay? I'll get it all worked out. You have two more months at school before we have to make any moves. Have I ever given you a reason to doubt me?"

"No," Faith peeped. "I guess not."

"I got this, Faith. Stop worrying. You're with me, and that's all that matters, right?"

She nodded. Faust pulled her into his chest and wrapped his arms around her tightly.

"Everything's gonna be fine. I promise."

#faust x faith #Faust!Valter #Valter Skarsgard fanfiction #Valter Skarsgard imagine

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stressedoutcanary · 3 years

Text

Hold On - Jason Todd x Batgirl!Reader [PART 3]

What this includes: Violence, a combo of angst and fluff, and just to be on the safe side I’d say language.

Word count: 3.1k

A/N😋: I am so glad it’s finally finished, now it won’t be sitting in my drafts staring at me all day. Also forgive me for any mistakes, half of it is written at 3 AM

Part 1 , Part 2

•°•°•°•°

“This is it”, you breathed out, stopping your bike near a bush making sure that place was obscure enough. You placed the helmet on the handle and hopped off the bike. After taking a few steps forward and scouting the area, you clicked your comms back on.

“O care to give me the layout of what I am getting myself into, ‘cause we all know the last time didn’t go so well”

“Nightwing said you might call me for backup and now I owe him 20 uggh! Anyways onto the problem at hand, I’m picking up a few heat signatures from the basement area and the schematics of the building indicate a vent on the other side which might help you get in.”

“Is there anything else I should know?”

There was no reply on the other end and you assumed she was looking into it. To your bad luck, it was far from it. You heard an all too familiar grunt and mentally cursed yourself for forgetting that it was an open line.

“(Y/N), I thought I made myself clear”, Bruce’s modulated voice came through which low-key made you want to strangle him with your bare hands.

“Oh come on B! Didn’t Alfred teach you that listening in on other people’s conversations is bad manners”

“We are 10 minutes out you will not be going in till we get there”

‘Like Hell I won’t’

“Hello? B? Your voice is breaking up. I can’t hear you! there is some interference in the signal. Batman?”

“Don’t- ” you clicked the comms off before he could finish his sentence and breathed a sigh of relief. ”Note to self after what you just did, avoid showing your face to anyone in the fam for at least a week.”

Snooping around, you came across the vent Babs told you about and you smirked to yourself, “Bless those idiots who decided to make an excess amount of vents throughout Gotham, plus no dumbass to shoot open the lock on any door, huh I’d say it’s going pretty good for me.”

After going through a very, very dusty vent, you silently dropped down to floor behind a goon and cleared your throat to draw his attention. As soon as he turned around, his jaw was met with your right hook, making him plummet to the ground. Grabbing him by the collar you inched closer to his face, which was yet again fully covered by a white mask.

“Alright no-face, tell me where Pyg is right now”, you made use of your deep modulated voice, making the man dart his eyes towards the far right corner of the room. You knew what that meant and without wasting any more time, you knocked him out and scurried over, finding a heavy door at the end. Somehow managing to push open the door, you were faced with a circular stairwell leading down.

“Well Oracle did say she got heat signatures down in the basement.”, you sighed and started taking calculated steps, making sure to check for any traps. ‘Why keep only one person to guard your supersecret creep-house? Either Lazlo is way too overconfident or way too crazy... Probably both.’, you thought, wheels turning in your head, hoping to make sense of the situation. As you went down, you could catch a faint sound of music. ‘Is that Opera?! Well at least it fits his M.O.’

The end of the stairwell opened into a large room. You hid behind one of wooden crates as your mind swiftly accessed the grim ambience; Pyg was sharpening his knife swaying along with opera music playing in the background but Jason was nowhere to be found. Your breath hitched and your blood ran cold, it felt as if the world around you was spinning.

‘What if... what if it’s too late’ Crouching down on the ground with your back to the crate your took in several deep breaths to calm your racing heart. You couldn’t think like that, not when you’re so close. You wiped the stray tear which escaped the tightness of your cowl and had trailed down your cheek. You tried to focus instead of jumping to conclusions.

You frowned upon noticing something odd on the wall in front of you, placing your palms on it, you gave it a slight push. To your surprise it paved way for an attached corridor which clearly didn’t come up in the schematics Oracle told you about. You slipped into the corridor, making sure that nobody saw you. Your feet froze for a slight second on the sight you were met with; cages like prison cells lined up in a row with people inside of them.

“The people who went missing”, you whispered to yourself, still reeling in the shock of it all. Upon hearing a familiar groan you sprinted across the pathway to the source, eyes scanning every inch of the person you found, the person you were here to rescue. You fumbled with the lock for a while, muttering curses under your breath until it clicked open. You dashed to his side and took a batarang out to cut the binds he was in.

“Jay if you die on me again, I swear I will kill you.”

“Been there, done that princess and honestly not a fan of it”, Jason croaked out, his reply came out weaker and voice barely above a whisper. It made your heart clench in a way it hasn’t in a long, long time. You lifted your head up, you gave him a soft smile, gently brushing off the matted hair on his forehead,

“Jason I..”

‘Just tell him you love him you coward, It’s really not that hard’

“Jason I’m glad you’re okay”, you blurted out in way which was far from normal but he seemed way too tired to noticed.

‘COWARD’

“How did you get free?”, he inquired, thankfully interrupting your internal yelling.

“I didn’t? I literally just walked in here to get you out.”

“But I thought-”, Jason looked utterly confused as he rubbed his wrists to ease the pain caused by the rope.

“Well long story short. You got captured. I was saved by Harley and Ivy, had a nice chat with them, and then I might have been responsible for Batman’s high blood pressure, and then I emotionally blackmailed Nightwing into giving me your location and then here I am”

“Wha...Yeah I will just pretend I totally understand whatever the hell you just said.”, Jason sighed, he tried to stand up but his feet wobbled and if it wasn’t for you catching him on time h would’ve staggered to the ground.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Mmhmm”, he hummed lightly leaning his weight on you. “Just a little dizzy, probably from the dehydration, It could also be because of the blood loss from the stab wound I got”

“The WHAT?!”, you looked at him like he was crazy.

“Oh yeah I think I kinda forgot to tell you that the creepy dude tried to cut me open but my armor got in the way so he stabbed me instead and went away saying he had to sharpen his knife or something like that”, he started to slur and you knew you had to get him back to the cave as quickly as possible. You helped him get up on his feet, slinging one of his arms over your shoulders and wrapping one of your arms around his waist.

“Oh my God! Jay, you don’t just bring this sort of thing up in casual conversation!”, you shook your head and started taking small steps with him towards the way you came from. Suddenly a loud crash was heard followed by a couple of screams making the both of you share a nervous glance.

“What was that?”

“Only one way to find out”, you said as you walked through the door back into the large room.

It was pure chaos, more like a free-for-all. Nightwing jogged up to you.

“We did say we were 10 minutes out didn’t we?”, he gave you a bright smile and swung Jason’s free arm over his shoulder to help you support him better.

“Good, now since you are here, hold him”, you shifted Jason’s weight towards Dick.

“Hey-”

“Don’t even”, he glared daggers at his elder brother, “What are you even doing? I feel like a baby being passed around”

You ignored Jason’s whining in the background and fixed your gaze on the one person in the room who would soon face your wrath. The rest had already cleared up the goons and Pyg was the only one left. You narrowed your eyes and cracked your knuckles, making your way over to him.

By the time you reached Pyg he was already backing away from Batman and one murderous looking Robin, turning around he tried to make a run for it but was ultimately met with your fist, a sickening crack was heard and no one was quite sure whether it was from his mask, his jaw or both. Pyg was out cold and you shrugged at the duo in front of you while Dick and Jason made their way over.

“Remind me never to get on her bad side ever again.”, Jason whispered as both the boys looked completely terrified of you. You walked over to Bruce and held out your hand. He didn’t seem to catch the drift, for being the world’s greatest detective, he was quite dumb sometimes.

“The keys to the batmobile, unless you want Mr. surprise-I-got-stabbed over here to bleed out.”

After placing Jason into the passenger seat you hopped into the driving one.

“Also there are people in the back, you know, the missing ones, so good luck with the clean up I guess.”, you called out before before closing the hood of the batmobile.

You were on the road heading straight for the cave when you realized Jason wasn’t answering your questions anymore.

“Jason?”, you stole a glance at him and he was as pale as a ghost, “Shit!”, you yelled as you jammed your foot on the accelerator.

•°•°

Jason woke up to the dull beeping of multiple monitors and by the looks of the place, he concluded he was in fact in the batcave. As he regained some control over his senses, he saw you sitting on a chair beside his bed. You were sound asleep but he could see worry etched on your face even in your slumber. Looking at you, Jason wished he had the courage to say what his heart felt instead he just went ahead taking your hand in his, giving it a little squeeze. You stirred awake at that.

“Hey! You’re up!”, you stood up abruptly and hugged him tightly. To him it felt as if you were actually afraid of what might happen if you let go of him.

“I told you I don’t do dying anymore. It sucks.”

You finally pulled away from him, a smile tugging at your lips. Jason glanced at your hand, taking it in his once again, he ran his thumb over your bruised knuckles.

“I knew you had a mean right hook, guess I just forgot how mean”, Jason said smirking at you. You didn’t pull away from him as he had expected in his head instead you just scoffed at the statement.

“The next time you forget that, allow me to give you a reminder by demonstration Bird-Brain”, you called him by the name you often used back then. At first it was to annoy your very annoying best friend but then it stuck around but hadn’t used that nickname ever since he came back. You both realized that. A silence fell over the once playful conversation, his eyes found the celling and yours found your lap. After a while you cleared you throat to get his attention and he looked at you, his expressions were borderline unreadable.

“Jason I-I should go now, but don't worry I’ll get Alfred back here”, You got up and moved towards the door of the med-bay, scrunching your eyes shut you released a shaky breath.

‘It’s now or never (Y/N)’

“Jason when you get better, there is this place I have been meaning to take you to, with me of course.”

“Sure I’ll go”

“So tomorrow sounds good?”

“Tomorrow sounds good”, he repeated after you breaking into a grin. Your cheeks flushed and you had to take a sharp turn to hide the blush on your face. You mentally smacked yourself for behaving like a teen asking her crush out on a date for the first time.

•°•°

The next night Jason met you on the roof of the Wayne tower.

“Please tell me this isn’t the place you wanted to see with me”, he chuckled behind you and you turned around to give him a quick hug.

“It’s not that bad of a place, plus I can throw you off here too if you get on my nerves”, you laughed at his faux scandalised face.

“You wound me”

“In case you forgot you are already wounded, drama queen, plus its your lucky day, this is not where we will be spending our evening. Just follow me and don’t get lost on the way”, you winked and jumped off the edge, him following the suit.

When you both reached the place you had in mind, the place Jason cherished when he was Robin, the expression on his face was priceless. It was like a mixture of awe and surprise with a hint of sadness.

“How did you find out about this?”, Jason inquired after a while of reminiscing.

“Gee how indeed, ‘cause it cannot be the fact that I am detective who’s life is influenced by at least a dozen detectives and it’s most definitely not the fact that for me, you aren’t that difficult to figure out”

“Touché”

Jason chuckled at your usual playful sarcasm, his eyes were twinkling with something which felt more than just momental adoration and you couldn’t help but crack a small smile of your own. You made your way over to him, looking at the visible skyline for a brief moment, Jason watched as you sat down on the ledge with your legs dangling off, patting the space beside you gestured him to join you.

“I have a feeling we’re gonna be here for a while, so might as well sit down and get comfortable”, you shrugged as he nodded and sat down beside you, placing his elbow on his bent knee. You both enjoyed the few minutes of comfortable silence, watching cars pass by below and the moon lit starry sky above.

“I am starting to see why you liked it here”

“Yeah...”

“Alfred told me”

“Huh?”, Jason looked at you dumbfounded, trying to process your words.

“After you...were gone, Alfred told me, he told me that this was your happy place, though I still can’t believe you had a favorite gargoyle”, stifling a laugh you somehow managed to continue, “Anyway so as I saying, ever since I found out about it, I used to come here every night when I got free from patrol, come to think of it I still do, sometimes”

You could feel his heavy gaze boring into you making you immediately regret bringing up this conversation.

“Why?”, he finally inquired. You didn’t know whether to feel relived or be tense, but it was now or never, releasing a shallow breath you glanced at him, words flowing out on their own accord.

“Even back then I knew everyone dies at some point and all we can do is try and find some meaning in it, in the memories they leave behind and I guess me wanting to be here, it was a part of me trying to do that and it made me feel somewhat connected to you so I kept doing it; Coming here, spending any time I could spare and leaving before the crack of dawn and before I knew it, it had become a habit.”

“So you did miss me”, he gave you a sad smile and wrapped his hand around your shoulder, giving you a light squeeze.

“Of course I did you dumbass, I was best friend.”, you gave him a nudge and leaned your cheek on his chest, sighing deeply.

“The reason I avoided you after you came back was because I was scared”, you whispered, hoping it would sound less real that way. Jason pulled back a bit to take in your features and you could hear the strain in his voice, a hint of sadness in it.

“Scared of me?”

“Jason I wasn’t scared of you, I can never be, I was scared for you. I was afraid of losing you again. Every time you come back I lose you all over again and I am honestly tired of it and I thought that maybe if I kept my distance I--”

“Won’t get hurt again?”

“Yeah, something like that”

A moment passed where no one spoke anything, both of you running the scenarios of what might happen next in your brains. An idea clicked in your head and you abruptly got to your feet startling Jason in the process. Offering him your hand and a sheepish smile, you got him to his feet.

“I am tired of being scared Jason. I want this. I want us and for that I am willing to take a chance, are you?”, he stepped closer to you, his scent invading your senses.

“For you (Y/N), anything. You should know that by now, plus I feel the same way, I have for a while now”, Jason breathed out as he pulled you in for a deep kiss leaving you dizzy for a while after you pulled away for air. Placing your foreheads together, you found yourselves grinning like idiots yet again in the two successive nights. Jason’s stomach growled, sending you into a fit of laughter.

“Hungry?”

“You really gotta ask?”, raising an eyebrow, he tried to look offended but ultimately melted against you as you pressed your lips on his for a brief moment.

“I know a place”, you murmured, lips brushing against his and before he could register what was happening you already had a grapnel gun in your hands, smirking as you jumped off the ledge.

“Last one there is a rotten egg hoodie!!”

“Hey! But I don’t even know where it is!”

“Not my fault Bird-Brain!”

Jason jumped on after you, smiling to himself. Both of you were thinking the same thing ‘maybe this was finally the start of a new chapter; something new, something scary and something beautiful altogether’

°•°•°•°•

Tags: @ladyperceval

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twiistedgalaxies · 3 years

Text

Three Times Jaskier Didn’t Seem Quite Human

(And one time Geralt asked too many questions.)

“Jaskier isn’t human,” Yennefer stated bluntly, swishing a wine glass in her right hand.

Geralt blinked, “What?” This gave Yennefer pause. She knew that her on and off again lover was oblivious, but she hadn’t realized it was quite to this extent. Jaskier gave her a pained, pleading look from the other end of the table. She ignored him.

“You seriously haven’t noticed?” she continued with a huff.

“...No?” Geralt’s brows furrowed together in confusion. The nerve of these idiots. Yennefer had half a mind to just state the obvious, to keep these two from continuing to dance around the subject, possibly until the end of time.

But it was much more fun to gently direct Geralt to the answer and watch his bard squirm. Yennefer took a sip of her wine, mentally cursing her high alcohol tolerance, “You’ve been travelling with the man for decades,” Geralt’s face was blank, the puzzle pieces not fitting into place, “He hasn’t aged, Geralt.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” he protested, though from the way his eyes shifted towards his companion he was clearly thinking it over. If they were not at such a high profile party Yennefer would have strangled him. He opened his mouth to say something else, but it was at that exact moment that Jaskier decided to pick up his lute and perform for the crowd - granted, it was what he had been invited to do, but Yennefer sent him a withering glare anyways. She was met with a cheeky wink. Oh if looks could kill.

“I could prove it to you, you know? A few well placed detection spells and-”

Geralt shook his head, “He’ll tell me when he’s ready.”

“You two are hopeless,” Yennefer sighed.

-@~*^*~@-

It had been after a particularly difficult hunt, when Jaskier had to dress his companion’s wounds for the umpteenth time. Geralt sat upon a stool in the center of their tiny room at the inn. He looked more irritated than usual as Jaskier gave him what was essentially a sponge bath around where a kikimore had stabbed his shoulder with one of it’s spindly arms. Jaskier winced, it was too close to important organs for comfort. Humming as he worked, Jaskier tried to stitch shut what he could and thoroughly bandage the rest. The wolf medallion on Geralt’s chest thrummed contentedly each time the bard’s delicate hands drew near.

“Where did you learn?” he asked suddenly, his gruff voice cutting through the peaceful quiet.

“Hm?” Jaskier hummed, ignoring the Witcher’s grunt of pain as he applied one of his many salves to his shoulder, “You’re going to have to be more specific than that, dear.”

“The salves, the stitching, all of it,” Jaskier raised an eyebrow at that, but Geralt continued, “It’s a very odd skill for a bard to have.”

A laugh, Geralt had to bite back a hiss as Jaskier’s touches grew less gentle. He clearly wanted him to drop it. “What? Do you think that I was helpless before you came along with your bulging muscles and witchery glares?”

The witcher shook his head, silver hair sending droplets of water in the air, “No it’s not that,” the bard had certainly proved capable and skilled many times over, “It’s just, were you a healer before you became a bard?”

Jaskier froze, seemingly caught in a memory, “Something like that,” he began to bandage Geralt’s shoulder, “This kikimore did quite the number on you, didn’t it?”

Geralt gave him a look of disbelief because obviously.

“Come on, come on, give me the details, I can’t write my ballads off of just grunts and intrusive questions now can I?”

-@~*^*~@-

Jaskier had tagged along on what was supposed to be a minor contract. Nilfgaard had stormed a small town, leaving destruction and countless corpses in their wake. Corpses that were perfect for every Alghoul in a three mile radius.

He and Geralt were engaged in their usual banter (which consisted mostly of Jaskier rambling about whatever was on his mind, punctuated with the occasional grunt from his witcher), when a sudden, piercing screech rang through the air. It was high pitched, shrill, and caused Jaskier to clutch his head as he let out a groan of pain.

Meanwhile, Geralt immediately leapt into action, drawing his silver sword as a pack of the necrophages surrounded them. He was able to take out several, his sword and the ghouls creating a smooth, gory dance. It all seemed to be going well before an Alghoul caught Geralt off guard, leaping onto his back while extending its spines. This sent Geralt off balance, and he was quickly overwhelmed. His sword got knocked out of his hands in the scuffle and he thought that this, however stupid it may be, would be what would kill him.

A cry of rage. Slashing, tearing. Suddenly the weight that was dragging Geralt to the ground grew lighter. He felt something wet and sticky. Geralt looked up to see Jaskier standing over him, holding Geralt’s silver sword, out of breath, and covered in Alghoul viscera.

The bard looked down at himself, annoyance on his admittedly handsome features, “That was my favorite tunic too!” The tunic in question, once baby blue (like his eyes which were now flashing gold, what the fuck?) was now stained red and black. Jaskier brushed a bit of entrails off his shoulder, visibly disgusted.

“Huh?” Geralt said, intelligently.

-@~*^*~@-

The pair was making their way north, Jaskier strumming on his lute and Geralt sat atop Roach. The dirt road was a tunnel bordered by a wall of towering trees, whose orange and red canopies blocked out the sun, casting the duo in dappled shade.

Jaskier strummed a few chords in the major key, before he spoke, “Geralt, are you doing alright?” His face was soft and forget-me-not eyes distant like they often grew when he was lost in thought. Geralt shot him a confused look. “It’s just that, you’ve seemed rather distracted lately.”

“Hm?”

“I,” Jaskier sighed, collecting himself, “It’s just with the kikimore and the alghouls, and just last week when you forgot your potions in Roach’s saddlebags. I’ve never seen you get like this before, what’s going on?”

“It’s nothing.” Geralt replied, gaze sliding to anywhere but his bard.

Jaskier reached up, intertwining his lithe fingers with Geralt’s own, “I’m worried about you, Love.”

Geralt huffed, he could never resist the man’s pouting lips and puppy-dog eyes, “Yen and I had a conversation at that party a few months ago.”

He felt the bard tense, “Is that so?” There was a long, uncomfortable silence between them. Jaskier must have realized Geralt, man of few words that he is, wasn’t going to elaborate any further, so he spoke, “What did you two talk about?”

“She said you aren’t human and I just thought about it more and… it makes too much sense,” Geralt began, feeling awkward as he tried to find the words to explain, “The way you don’t age, your medical knowledge (even of witcher potions!), how you know your way around a sword and how your eyes gleamed-”

“Geralt, as you know I have an impeccable skincare routine and-”

He frowned, “Don’t give me that shit, bard.”

Jaskier sighed, “You really want to know?” A nod. “Okay, well, here goes nothing.” The bard let go of the witcher’s hand, and pulled off a golden ring that, now that Geralt thought about it, he had never seen the man without. A shimmer fell over the bard’s body, like a statue being unveiled. The first thing Geralt noticed was his eyes, they were a sickening, piercing yellow. His face was marred by countless scars, from claws, burns, knives, and magic. Jaskier’s build underneath the glamour more closely resembled Geralt’s, though he retained his shorter stature. The bard smiled sardonically at the witcher’s shocked expression, “Like what you see?”

Geralt’s mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again, “How?”

“You’d probably know me better as Julian,” Jaskier’s eyes got that distant look to them again, his face was downcast, an unusual expression for someone who typically embodied sunshine, “I was in the Griffin school, before we were attacked,” a joyless laugh, “I had never wanted to be a witcher, ya know? Wasn’t cut out for it. But my father, Viscount Pankratz himself, couldn’t pay a witcher for his contract, so he offered me up instead. I failed as a noble, so maybe I wouldn’t fail as a witcher. He was wrong, of course, I spent most of my time writing poems instead of studying Signs. Singing instead of sparring. After the trials I spent a few years on the path before I grew sick of it and returned to Kaer Seren.”

Geralt hummed, encouraging Jaskier to continue.

“I was made to look after the students, I had to patch up their wounds and keep them from blowing themselves up with alchemy. I loved the little rascals, which is why..” Jaskier trailed off, fingers tracing the grooves in his lute.

“It’s okay,” Geralt said, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

He shook his head hurriedly, “No, no I want to, I have to,” his voice cracked, “I left after the trials killed them. All of them. I couldn’t bear to be a part of it. A part of everything. So I ran, like a coward,” He spat out that last word like a curse.

The pair stopped. Geralt placed his gloved hand on the bard’s shoulder, a rare gesture of affection and reassurance.

“Eventually, I found a mage and spent my life’s savings on a well-made glamour and the lute the elves at Posada so lovingly destroyed. It wasn’t until I had graduated from Oxenfurt that I found out what happened in Kaer Seren.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Geralt asked, his voice gentle.

Jaskier’s face flushed red with shame, “I was afraid. Afraid of what you would think of me. That you’d hate me.”

Geralt frowned, “I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.”

At that, Jaskier laughed, “Just look at me! I’m an ugly fuck-up.”

“No,” Geralt said resolutely.

“Huh?”

“I said no. Do you know how many times you’ve saved my life? Made long nights on the path easier to bear? I wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for you,” Geralt continued, looking Jaskier directly in the eyes. He didn’t reply to that, just slipped his ring back on and hugged his arms to his chest.

The rest of the day’s journey was spent in silence.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to leave a comment, I love hearing feedback. I had one hell of a time writing this, I originally had only written the first scene, and it took a few months for my single window's screensaver brain cell to finally hit a corner and figure out how to continue and finish the story.

Ao3

#The Witcher #The Witcher netflix #the witcher fanfiction #fanfiction #fic #ao3 #ff.net #geraskier #geralt #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #witcher!jaskier #feral jaskier #yennefer #dandelion #netflix #non-human jaskier

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sassanoe · 3 years

Text

His Present, Her Future

Thomas Sharpe

Masterlist [2]

Thomas Sharpe was a brilliant man, who with his sister, was leading a horrible life. What do they do when a girl from the future comes to the past. Working on a teleporter is all she was doing, a little tinkering, the portal opened with a wormhole. Sucking the young inventor in along with some of her stuff from the lab, she screamed, reaching for her older brother. "Daniel!"

The same portal opened in Allerdale Hall, in front of Lucille and Thomas Sharpe, with his wife, Edith Cushing. They all were shocked when a woman was on their floor when it closed with things around her. The woman slowly sat up, looking around, when she saw the three, her brows furrowed. "I am not in 2021 anymore." She got up and dusted her lab coat off.

"Who are you, and where did you come from?" The older woman asked. Walking towards the small group, she held her hand out. "Aurora Banks, a pleasure to meet you." She smiled brightly. "As well I come from the future. A future I need to get back to." When no one shook her hand, she put it back down, a little uncomfortable now. The other younger woman stepped forward first, "Edith Cushing, or well, Edith Sharpe now. My husband, Thomas, and his sister Lucille." Aurora smiled, taking notice of the twitch Lucille had, "Lovely to meet you, Edith, Thomas, and Lucille."

"When will you be leaving?" Lucille asked, "Well, hopefully soon, that is if my brother fixes my time machine, though being honest, it will more than likely be a moment." Lucille rolled her eyes and left. Watching this Thomas boy run after her. "Lucille!" He called. Aurora looked to Edith, "So, what now?" Edith smiled and took her hand, asking many questions, most of her answers being, "I don't believe I should answer that."

Later the same evening, Aurora was sitting in Thomas's chair in his little work area, working on her phone and watch. Thomas came in quietly when the watch sparks, "Shit!" She jumped up, holding her wrist. "Fucking piece of shit, watch! Why did I ever fucking make you!" She growled at the watch as she shook her hand out. His eyes widened slightly, such a vulgar mouth for a woman. She huffed and took her lab coat off, revealing a long-sleeve off the shoulder white crop-top with high-waisted jeans and knee-high boots. Thomas looked her attire over, amazed at what she had on.

She took a deep breath in, "What would Daniel do? Hey Google, play that's how you know from the enchanted soundtrack." When the song came on, she smiled, getting back to work singing softly. Thomas was shocked at the small device having the sound come out of it, "How do you know he loves you? How do you know he's yours? Well, does he leave a little note to tell you, you are on his mind? Send you yellow flowers when the sky is grey? Hey, he'll find a new way to show you a little bit every day, that's how you know, that's how you know, he's your love..."

She did a small spin then screamed, falling to the floor when she saw Thomas. "Good god! How long have you been standing there! That is so fucking weird!" "I didn't mean to startle you. I apologize." He held his hand out to help her up. She took it, standing, glaring at him slightly. "So, did you need something? Judging by how your sister speaks to me, I'm trying to leave and quick." At that, he frowned, "I apologize for my sister. She shouldn't have been so cold." "Yeah, she seems to not like other women." Aurora sassed. "She doesn't." He sighed.

Sitting back down, she got back to work as Thomas stood behind her asking questions. The two slowly got closer, spending the rest of the evening together laughing and smiling until Lucille came in. "Thomas, I have been looking everywhere for you." She huffed, walking over to him quickly and pulling him to her. Thomas looked to Aurora, worried slightly. "I've been helping Aurora with her things, such as what she calls her phone." he said softly, "Oh, I could also help with your machine that is digging clay." He smiled brightly, and he broke away from his sister.

"Really? How? What do you think would help?" He immediately started firing off questions. Aurora giggled, taking his hand pulling him closer. She showed him her ideas she sketched out in his journal. "I apologize for using your journal without asking. I just needed to draw and write things down before I forgot." He shook his head, smiling, "It is no issue. It's truly fascinating how you know so much for a woman." She glared at him slightly and hit his chest. "Where I'm from, those are fighting words." She joked, "I-I didn't mean them as an insult. I'm truly sorry-" He rushed out, making her smile, "Thomas, I'm joking with you."

Lucille glared at the two before storming downstairs to Edith. "Edith, I think she is trying to steal Thomas from you." Edith laughed lightly, "I'm sure she isn't. I'm sure he is just excited to have someone who likes inventing like him." Edith brushed it off. An hour later, Aurora and Thomas came down. Thomas leads her to a room for the night, "I bid you goodnight, Aurora." He kissed her hand, making the young woman blush. "Good night, Thomas." She smiled and closed the bedroom door.

Thomas went to Edith and Lucille. "I showed her a room for the night." "How kind, Thomas." Lucille snapped. Edith smiled at her husband. "I will be heading to bed, Thomas." Edith got up and kissed his cheek before going to her room. Lucille took Thomas's hand, leading him to the attic. Pushing him onto the bed, she climbed into his lap. "You love me, right?" "Yes, of course." "Good." She kissed him, pushing him back.

The next morning Thomas and Lucille came downstairs from the attic. When they got to the main entrance, they saw Aurora coming back in. "Is she wearing your clothes?" Lucille asked, her voice sounding more like a growl. Thomas looked Aurora over, not minding the outfit. She had one of his button-ups on but not buttoned all the way, revealing something covering her breast, his overalls, pants, and a pair of Edith's shoes on. Her hair was up, messily. "She looks like a tramp." Lucille huffed.

Aurora looked up, hearing a voice, "Oh, Thomas!" She smiled brightly up at the man. "I had a look at your machine. Come! Come!" She waved him over, he smiled, rushing down the stairs. "Thomas!" Lucille snapped. He stopped and looked back, but Aurora took his hand and dragged him outside. "Ignore her, come on." Once outdoors, Aurora looked at him and found hickey's on his neck. "Thomas!" She smacked his arm playfully, "You got some!" She laughed, "I beg your pardon." "You got laid?" He still looked confused, "You had sex, fucked someone, what do you want me to say made love?" He looked away, "What? Is it that bad?" He opened his mouth then closed it.

"Thomas, what's wrong?" She asked, immediately concerned. "Is it Lucille?" He wouldn't look at her, and she furrowed her brows. Edith wasn't up yet, her room was next to Aurora's, and Thomas came from upstairs with Lucille. "Oh my god. You fucked Lucille?" She whispered to him. He snapped his head to her, shocked, "How did you?" "Edith isn't up yet, and I would have heard her moans as my room is next to hers." Thomas looked ashamed, and it clicked. "You didn't want to..." Aurora said softly.

Over the next few weeks, she was closer to finishing her teleporter, and Thomas had confided in her. The two attached at the hip, Lucille hated it.

Lucille had been storming the grounds looking for him, "Thomas!" She screamed. Thomas and Aurora were in the attic, working away from Lucille. "So this is how people communicate in the future?" Aurora hummed, continuing to work as he leaned over her shoulder. When she looks up to speak to him, she stopped staring into his eyes, not realizing he was this close. Both stared at each other for a few seconds, when Thomas started to lean closer, "May I kiss you?" His lips brushed against hers as he whispered, "I would be insulted if you didn't." She responded before he kissed her deeply. She stood, pulling him closer. He was quick to walk them backward until he sat on the bed, pulling her onto his lap.

He broke away from the kiss, "Are you sure about this?" She panted, "Yes, that is if you want to still." He grinned and kissed her as his answer. The two quickly work to remove her top. She sat before him now in her bra, and immediately she pulled at his shirt. "Off." She huffed and bit at his neck, pushing up against him. He groaned, quickly pulling off his button-up. "Thomas..." She panted when he started to bite at her neck, "Thomas!" Both froze, "L-Lucille." Aurora didn't move, nor did Thomas. "You slut!" She screamed at Aurora, coming towards the two with a knife making them jump up and move away.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!" She screamed at Lucille, backing away. Thomas quickly stood in front of her, "Lucille, leave her alone." "Why so you can fuck her too behind my back!" She sneered. Aurora tried to step past Thomas, but he pushed her back slightly, slowly walking to Lucille. "Lucille, calm down." He said softly, but Lucille stabbed him, shoving him to the side. "Thomas!" Aurora yelled before going after Lucille and tackling her to the ground. Lucille slashed at her cutting her cheek and arm. Aurora quickly got the upper hand and straddled her, pinning her hands to the ground, letting her struggle and wiggle. She squeezed her wrist until she let go of the knife before quickly holding both wrists in one hand. After hitting her once, she let go of her wrist, using both fists to hit Lucille till she was knocked out cold and bloody.

Aurora stood huffing and bleeding before rushing over to Thomas to check over his wound, "Hey, you're okay." She said softly, leaving soft kisses over his face. Quickly she went and grabbed his shirt, ripping it, and tying it on his arm. "It's small. You'll be okay." She kept her words soft then started to look over the room. When she found a rope, she quickly put Lucille in the chair and tied her to it. She got Thomas up and left the room. "You fought her." He said, confused. "I wasn't gonna let her get away with hurting you," Aurora said with a huff. When they got to his room, she went into the bathroom and got stuff to clean his wound.

"I love you." He said when she came back. She smiled sadly, sitting next to him. "I love you too, but Thomas, this is your present. I don't belong here. You'll find someone else to love just as much, maybe even more." He frowned, "Why can't you just stay, or I go with you?" She gently cupped his cheek, "Thomas, you're needed here with Edith, and my brother needs me. We have responsibilities." She spoke as if talking to a child. "Then we can run away from here." She kissed him gently, "No, running." She patched him up, then crawling into his lap and clinging to him. "I'll miss you." She said softly.

He tilted her chin and kissed her, "May I have you for tonight?" He asked softly, "Yes." She said back. The two slowed down, being sweet and soft, watching out for the other's wounds. The next morning she awoke before him, getting dressed quickly in the clothes she came in and going over to his desk. She wrote him a letter and kissed it, spraying a bit of her perfume on it. She went back upstairs, grabbing her things from his workspace and the attic. Lucille was still out cold.

Quickly making her way back downstairs to his room, she came in as he slowly woke, "Aurora?" "Good-bye, Thomas." She kissed him one final time. He pulled her closer, and she broke this kiss. Quickly she left the room. It took him a second to process what she said before quickly pulling on pants and a top chasing after her. She didn't tell him she had found a way home days ago. She didn't want to leave him, but she had to.

When he came to the stairs, she had opened the portal. "You can't leave me!" He yelled, trying to get to her, he ran faster. When she started to walk through, he pulled her back, kissing her passionately. "Please don't, don't leave." He clung to her. "Thomas, this is the best for both of us." She said softly. "I'll find a way to you." He said quickly, "I have no doubt you will see me again." She kissed him again before pushing away, looking at him one last time. "I love you." Right as she stepped through, "I love you too." He said.

She was gone, never for him to see her again. Going back to his bedroom, he found the letter.

Dear Thomas,

I'm writing this to tell you that I love you. You're my first thought in the morning, and I hold you in my last breath in the evening. I need you more and more each day, like an addiction of some sort. It's an addiction I would never want to fix. You listened when I sobbed, and you watched me when I laughed. But, most importantly, you were accepting of a girl out of time. For this, you worked wonders. I'd never looked for a relationship or love. It simply fell into my lap. I'd never change anything. I'm glad you were my first love. So thank you for showing me love and allowing me to show you what love is, not the twisted kind of love your sister showed you. Now, you must be strong and help Edith. I hope you live a long life, have lots of kids, and are happy. Maybe, one day we will meet again.

Love,

Aurora

Should I do a part two? If you think I should leave a comment I'll tag you in it.

#crimson peak #crimson peak imagine #crimson peak fanfiction #crimson peak one shot #crimson peak x reader #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #thomas sharpe #thomas sharpe imagine #thomas sharpe x reader #thomas sharpe fanfiction #thomas sharpe one shot #fanfic

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chrwrites · 3 years

Text

On Wednesdays We Wear Pink

This was written for the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers 250 Follower Celebration, I picked prompt #25 from 50 Wordless ways to say "I love you": Wearing clothes in their favorite color.

warnings: Implied sexual content and fade to black

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If there was something Luka Couffaine hated doing, that was doing the laundry.

Hanging the clothes out to dry wasn’t much of a problem, just like ironing or putting them away didn't bother him. But sorting through the clothes and separating them according to different fabrics and their colours? That was something he couldn’t do.

No matter how hard he tried, or how many times the amazing fashion designer he was dating showed him how to wash clothes the correct way and was patient enough to repeat herself countless times, Luka would always manage to mess something up.

Why couldn’t he just put all the clothes in the washing machine with some detergent and softener and just start it like he had always done before he started living with Marinette, anyway? The clothes came out fine.

Except, Marinette didn't think the same when he accidentally got her favorite sweater to shrink three sizes, and she officially discharged him from doing this annoying chore after she came home to find Luka struggling with yarn and knitting needles, trying to follow some online tutorial that would help him make her a new sweater to replace the one he damaged.

But now that Marinette would be away for a month, Luka didn't have the heart to let the clothes pile up and give her more work to do when she came back. He had to take care of it.

He sighed as he resentfully loaded the washing machine, only looking at his white clothes to make sure he didn't pick anything that would get them stained. He was almost finished when his hand landed on a small red garment that was definitely not his and distracted him from his task, the memories of the wonderful night spent after taking that small piece of clothing off his girlfriend flooding his mind.

God, he missed her.

His thoughts were interrupted by the phone ringing in the other room, and he scrambled to put the rest of the clothes inside the washing machine before he went to answer.

Marinette's cheerful voice greeted him, and Luka couldn't control the smile forming on his lips as soon as he heard her, “Hello, love. How's Milan treating you?”

He listened as she rambled about her day and told him about the challenges she had to face while working in another city, but the happiness and excitement in her voice made him smile along with her. He went back to the bathroom to set the washing machine in what he hoped was the right way, and started it.

“But enough talking about me,” Marinette said from the other side of the phone, ”I want to know what you've been up to.”

“Well,” Luka sighed, “Nothing much. Still working on the album. I've been trying to write, playing… Missing my muse...”

Marinette’s soft giggle rang in his ears, making his heart stutter the same way it did when they first met, “Aw, I miss you too,” she said, “I'll be back soon.”

“I know, it’s just not soon enough.”

“It’s only another week,” Marinette reminded, “then I’ll be back and I’ll be all yours.”

“I can’t wait.”

Smiling to himself, Luka set his phone down and grabbed his notebook and guitar. He settled on the couch and let the sudden rush of inspiration flow through his fingers to form a soft gentle melody that could do his love for Marinette justice.

He was so lost in the music that he forgot about the world around him, and when he heard a beep coming from the other room he jumped from the couch. He groaned when he realized that it was the washing machine signaling it was done, leaned his head to the back of the couch and closed his eyes to get his focus on the music back. The laundry could wait a little longer. But the beautiful rush of creativity that had previously caught him didn't seem to want to come back. Luka let out a helpless sigh and set his guitar aside, getting up to reach the source of the sound that disrupted his creative process.

Marinette had gotten so excited the first time she realized that their new washer also made sounds, and Luka still teased her for that sometimes. She would do a happy little dance whenever he heard the machine beeping, and as much as Luka loved to see her excited, he kinda hated that the stupid thing made sounds. What was the point of having a silent washing machine when it beeped when it was done?

So that you don't forget it, dummy.

The voice in his head sounded an awful lot like Marinette's, and it reminded him of his girlfriend getting up whenever that silly sound interrupted what they were doing. One moment, Marinette was resting her head on his shoulder, absently playing with Luka's hands as he hummed a soft melody in her ear; then, as soon as that damned washer beeped, she would abandon him.

“Can't it just wait?” he'd ask, and Marinette would laugh and tell him that they couldn't leave the clothes in the washing machine for long, “Otherwise they'll stink. I know, I know," he'd complain before lazily following her so that they could go back to what they were doing sooner.

“I swear, sometimes it looks like you love doing the laundry more than you love me.”

“You know that’s not true! I love doing you much more,” Marinette teased, making Luka struggle to keep his composure while he helped her hang the clothes, “You’ll be the death of me.”

Well, Marinette was going to kill him for real now.

Much to his horror, the first items he pulled out of the washing machine had turned a soft shade of pink.

“Shit,” Luka muttered under his breath. He pulled out more clothes, only to find that they all suffered from the same fate of the first ones. His t-shirts, his socks, his boxers were all pink.

How could that happen? He had paid attention this time, didn't he?

He sighed, tossing the now pink, old and ragged Jagged Stone t-shirt he didn't have the heart to throw away (much to Marinette’s annoyance) in the basket. At least he didn’t wash any of Marinette’s clothes, so he didn't have to worry about hearing her yell at him from another country for ruining her clothes as well. Maybe this time she would laugh when he’d tell her what happened to his clothes. Either way, there was nothing he could do about it now.

He pulled out the last pieces from the washing machine, sighing when he found what caused his clothes to turn pink. Marinette’s polka dotted slips were of an apparently harmless bright red despite having tinted everything around them. At least it wasn’t totally his fault, he could blame it on his girlfriend’s underwear, couldn't he?

Marinette would have called him stupid and it would have ended there.

He let out a helpless sigh, opting not to try to find a solution for turning half of his wardrobe pink and hanging the clothes to dry instead.

What was some more pink in his life, anyway? His girlfriend was the epitome of pink and pretty, and he loved her for that. Even if he had to convince her not to buy all the pink home appliances she could find for their new apartment. She would complain, and he would kiss her adorable little pouts away before they went on looking for what they needed to make their new apartment feel like home. Two months living together and he still felt a little thrill of excitement whenever he was reminded that he was sharing the roof with the love of his life.

He couldn't really complain about some more pink in his life. He loved it.

Marinette greeted Luka with the warmest smile when she found him waiting for her at the airport. She ran into his arms, Luka’s chuckle ringing in her ear as he caught her and she wrapped her arms around his neck. They shared a long, sweet kiss.

He shivered when Marinette pulled away, his eyes still half lidded as he settled her down. Marinette traced slow patterns on his chest, biting down a teasing smile when she looked up at him, “Is this new? Pink really suits you,” she said, making Luka smile before he leaned for another kiss.

When they got home, his lips left hers only for the amount of time they needed to catch their breath. Luka ignored Marinette's gasp as he let her suitcase fall ungraciously on the floor and led her to the couch. She giggled when she fell on top of him and Luka’s arm wrapped around her.

“I missed you so much,” Marinette whispered, her bluebell eyes locking into his. His free hand reached to thumb her cheekbone, “Me too,” Luka said slowly.

Marinette snuggled close to his chest, her hand absently drawing patterns on his arm while Luka left soft kisses on her head from time to time, his hand brushing through her hair. They stood in comfortable silence, basking in each other's presence after so long of not being able to, sharing soft kisses and quiet laughs.

Luka held her tighter, closing his eyes as he inhaled her sweet scent. Finally, their apartment felt like home again.

It was much later, when Marinette shifted and slipped away from his arms that Luka groaned, suddenly feeling cold. “Don’t go,” he whined, stretching his arms to grab her waist and pull her closer, “I didn't get enough of you.”

Marinette giggled, “When did you ever?” she asked rhetorically.

“Never?” Luka grinned proudly.

Marinette rolled her eyes, playfully slapping the hand resting on her hip.

“I really have to unpack,” she said, struggling to be serious when she saw Luka’s pout, “Stay with me, please?” he asked.

Marinette managed to shim out of his hold and blew him a kiss before disappearing behind the door. Luka let out a lovesick sigh, getting up from the couch to follow her into their bedroom.

“Thought you might need some help,” he said casually as Marinette opened her suitcase and took out her clothes.

“Just say you can’t stay away from me for one second,” Marinette teased.

“Can you blame me?” Luka shrugged, “I have the most amazing girl by my side, and I want to–

Luka interrupted himself mid-sentence, noticing how Marinette's expression shifted into a frown when she opened the closet.

She put her clothes away, only to rummage a bit longer in the closet to pull out two pink t-shirts from Luka's side of the closet.

She suppressed a giggle as she turned to look at his boyfriend, whose expression dropped.

“How come half of your closet has turned pink?” Marinette asked, letting the amused tone in her voice speak for her.

“I…” Luka rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. Marinette raised an eyebrow as an invitation for him to confirm her suspicions, and Luka sighed in defeat.

“Fine, I messed up the laundry,” he could feel his cheeks grow warm at the confession, and he braced himself for any reaction from her.

“No way, I thought you got Rose so mad that she decided to colour all your clothes pink,” Marinette giggled, “Not that I'm complaining, you know how much I like pink, and it looks really good on you.”

“Oh really? You're not mad at me for messing up the laundry again?” he asked.

“It depends…” Marinette said, crossing her arms when she got up, “Tell me, Luka, did you ruin any of my clothes?”

Luka gulped, despite knowing he had nothing to worry about, Marinette looked quite menacing when things didn't go her way, “No.”

“Good,” Marinette smiled, satisfied with his answer, and closed the distance between them wrapping her arms around his neck, “I can fix these,” she said, eyeing at the clothes she dropped on the floor, but Luka shook his head.

“You don't have to.”

“What?” Marinette asked, frowning in confusion.

“I wanted to take care of it so you didn’t have too much stuff to do when you came back. I don't want you to add more work to your list because of me,” Luka's thumb grazed her cheek gently. “Besides,” he added, his hands moving to her hips to pull her closer, “I like pink.”

Marinette smirked, “Don’t you think it will ruin your image, rockstar ?”

Luka shook his head, his smile brushing her lips, “Screw image, pink is very rock and roll.”

“That's why I like it so much,” Marinette's soft giggle died in her mouth when he kissed her, and she tilted her head to welcome him fully, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

Her hands made their way down his chest, pulling at the hem of his t-shirt, “As much as I like pink…” she purred, moving her lips to his ear and making Luka shiver, “I think you'd look better with this off...”

Luka didn't find Marinette sleeping in the bed next to him when he woke up. He yawned and stretched, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes before he got up and followed the unmistakable clattering of pans coming from the kitchen.

Marinette was standing near the stove, wearing nothing but the pink t-shirt he wore the previous night as she stirred something in a bowl.

He leaned against the door frame, not daring to disturb her and admiring her from his position instead. She was humming while she got the breakfast ready, a habit she picked from him, and Luka felt a familiar warmth spread in his chest. Sometimes he had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming, that Marinette was really there by his side and loved him just as much as he loved her. Her sole presence lit up the darkest of corners, and Luka was lucky enough to be able to watch her shine without her light hurting his eyes.

She squeaked when his hands squeezed her hips and he pulled her back against his chest, “Luka!” she scolded when he left a quick kiss on the exposed skin on her shoulder. He smiled and made her spin around so that she could face him, his ocean eyes bright with admiration.

“You’re so beautiful,” Luka whispered, his voice still groggy from sleep.

Marinette let out a small laugh and put some distance between them to look up at him, “My hair is a mess, and I haven’t even had my coffee yet. You're only saying this because I'm wearing your clothes,” she countered playfully.

Luka chuckled and leaned in, “Not true, I'm saying this because I love you,” he whispered before pecking her lips, “And also because pink looks great on you.”

He kissed her again, deeper this time, making Marinette sigh on his lips before she reluctantly pulled away, “I love you too, but could we not have burned pancakes for breakfast?”

#lukanette #lbsc 250 followers celebration #Endgame Lukanette #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng

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softcallofdutyimagines · 3 years

Text

More Then a Woman | Frank Woods x Fem!Reader | Chapter 3

Summary:

Woods is out for his usual, morning run. Everything is fine... you know, except that it goes just about as bad as it usually has been lately. With results even less stellar then usual and a weight of worry unlike anything he's felt as of yet on top of it, could a chance meeting with you be enough to turn things as bleak as this around?

Tags: Slow burn, fluff

Chpt 1 | Chpt 2 | Chpt 4 | Warnings: None except language

No music, no people, and just the barest rays of sunlight.

It’s just after seven am, and Frank is out for his morning run.

Every morning starts off like this, just him and the road, while he organizes his thoughts for the day. Most days he plans out all the shit he has to do and measuring out his time into neat compartments, but lately…

He can’t get his mind off of you.

A single sound byte of you calling him complete with varying, imagined inflections from that one day with Mason, plays over and over again.

Sargent! Sargent Woods! Woods! Woods!

Woods…

A small, secretive part of him wishes he could hear you call him Frank. Just once.

Or... no.

No, he doesn’t.

This is crazy. Even if he ignores the fact that he’s met you a grand total of twice in his entire life… He doesn’t have time for a, a girlfriend. Besides, you’re young and pretty… two things of which he is not. How does he know you don’t have someone already? And, for argument’s sake, let’s say you didn’t. Why the fuck would you want him?

Such is the state of the ongoing debate in his mind.

Woods shakes his head, breathing hard and attempting to refocus on the road before him. He checks his watch and picks up the pace. He’s behind again.

In fact, it’s been far too long since he’s reached a new best, no matter how hard he pushes. He runs and he runs until his lungs burn like a knife in his chest and an eerie darkness creeps into the edges of his vision. At last, he can’t go on any further, and slows to a walk. Gasping for air and dripping sweat, he trudges up to the lamp post he’s been using as a finish line and gives it a tap.

With a great heave of breath, he checks his watch a final time. Off from his best by nearly a whole minute this morning.

He runs a hand through his soaked hair, every inch of his face down to the very air he breathes conveys his dismay and suddenly he feels far too aware of his own body. The fine lines and creases slowly drawing in around his eyes and forehead. The chilly kiss of wind as it blows over patches of his scalp that he swears it didn’t use to. The clicking and dull, constant ache in his back and joints.

And suddenly the dreaded phrase, “getting too old” worms into his mind.

The street light shuts off, pulling him out of the thought induced stasis. He wipes his forehead and takes a look around. Not a soul in sight. Normally he’d find such conditions ideal, but suddenly, he feels very... alone.

All this life lived so far, and what does he have to show for it?

A case of medals, a shitload of exclusive skills and tactics, and… and…?

An empty, hollow house to bar out the rest of the world? A cold bed for two, one side always perfectly made and never disturbed? A fridge of beer and a cable tv, always set to the same, droning channel, to give the illusion of company as he drinks alone on Friday nights?

What happens when he retires and the fighting is done?

These... things. These meaningless, empty things, will be all he has left.

For all the gruff exterior. All the ‘fuck you’ and ‘watch this’ attitude. All the pomp, and arrogance, and pride, and passion, and creativity, and humor, and zeal for life and living… Is it too much to wish that, maybe, he had someone to share it all with?

Fuck.

Lost in his thoughts once more, his breath hitches as his shoe kicks a familiar glass door. He looks up and reads the sign. It’s the same coffee shop he stops at every morning after a good, hard run well done.

Frank looks down and gives his ever so slight, and yet slowly ever developing, gut a pat. Ugh, he winces. He remembers a time when he was still able to say ‘his abs.’

For a moment, he considers skipping this time, but… fuck it.

He orders his usual and a plain bagel for breakfast as he goes to find a seat. As of now, he has the whole place to himself, but before he can go back to reflecting on his own loneliness again, the door chimes and a lone figure power walks in. Frank nearly spits out his bagel in an effort not to choke as he watches you hustle up to the register in a sharp, white pantsuit.

You look… like… an angel. Draped in white and floating across the floor in the loose, but flattering fabric. It’s then that he catches that same fluttering feeling in his chest, just as he did when you were calling for him last time. He doesn’t even realize he’s staring until you turn around and catch his gaze.

“Oh, hey!”, you smile and wave politely, even bothering to make your way over while you wait on your order.

Woods snaps to attention, ripped out of his daydream at the sound of your voice. He takes in a sharp breath as he sits up a little straighter, hoping against hope that he looks more impressive then he’s been feeling thus far.

“Good morning Sargent, wh-”

“Frank”, he grunts, realizing a bit too late that he sounds far too harsh. “Uh, please. You know, I’m off duty and all...”, he trails off, taking a convenient sip of coffee to mask the awkwardness.

You make an ‘ah’ shape with your mouth and give a nod. “Frank”, you give the name a test and, as far as he can tell, decide that you like it. With a smile, you ask if you can join him at the table and introduce yourself by name in the process.

And in that moment, he commits it to memory where, from then on, it will stay safely locked away, exactly as you said it, til the day he dies.

“So, what are you doing out so early?”, you laugh.

He quickly explains he’s been out for a run, hoping that you won’t press for details. Luckily, you do not, and he takes the opportunity to ask you the same question. Likewise, you quickly explain that you’re headed to work and running a bit behind.

After that, it feels like you’re out of conversation material, and a thick silence settles between you. But, before things get too awkward, Frank decides to pick up the conversation, “So, uh… I’ve been meaning to uh, apologize…”

You cock your head in confused interest, but say nothing.

“You know, when we first met and all… I um, I’m sorry I said that stupid shit before I left like that. I don’t want you to think I’m… you know, crazy or something, heh”, he laughs humorlessly, and looks away, itching at the back of his neck nervously.

“Hm? Oh, it’s no trouble, I honestly forgot about it for a moment there”, you laugh, and it’s the nicest sound he’s ever heard. Like a fresh breeze in summer, carrying with it the smell of clean linens on the line and warm grass….

Your eyes smile deeply into his as he holds your gaze. For the briefest of moments, he feels connected to and understood by another human being like he never has before.

He takes a breath and it's as though he can feel the very scene he described. Gone is the smell of stale coffee beans and dried sweat. No more pain in his lungs or cramps in his legs. No more worrying about all the years and age slowly building onto him. No more haunting fear of loneliness.

Just the sensation of you.

Without his perception, his rough, callused hand slides in stuttering increments closer and closer still in the direction of yours. And just like that, the trance is broken as the barista calls your name. You jerk your head around to look, and the broken eye contact brings Woods screeching back into reality. He blinks and refamiliarizes himself with his surroundings.

Everything looks… dull in comparison to the vivid daydream held in your eyes.

You look back towards him, wearing that same smile, “Well it’s been nice catching up, but I have to go…”, you reach out and give his hand a friendly squeeze, “Take care now!”

The Sargent tries to return the sentiment, but all he can manage is a winded sounding grunt. He never knew someone’s skin could feel so soft. And warm.

Even after you’ve left for the door, his entire arm is still buzzing with electricity as every nerve from the tips of his fingers to the length of his spinal column light up with an excitement that he couldn’t put to words in a thousand years.

He brings up that same hand to where he can see it, turning it over slowly and flexing his fingers experimentally, as though noticing the extremity for the first time. It feels… new, after coming in contact with your disarming touch, and suddenly he doesn’t feel so aged and wizened as he was just minutes ago.

And when he’s good and through with his coffee and bagel, he makes up his mind to achieve something he hasn’t in a long time… With a few hops to limber up and a deep breath for luck, he manages a run all the way back home.

#call of duty #black ops cold war #frank woods #frank woods x reader #cod fanfic

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stevenbasic · 3 years

Photo

Looking at the IG of one of the new applicants, Dr J thinks: What's this one's story?

About a year ago, huh..?

...

The reunion was in full swing, and Angie sipped the straw of her vodka tonic, alone for the moment at the edge of the crowd, watching him. She’d come into the evening like she did into most crowds: thinking she was the smartest person in the room. True, it’s not like she’d ended up top of her class - it’d been ten years since graduating from Middlesex High with these morons - or had found herself at a top-tier college. She totally could have, she always thought, if she had really wanted to. She just never put in the effort, it hadn’t meant enough to her. But she could have been valedictorian, for sure, right? And gone to an ivy-league? She just never set her mind to it, she told herself. Plus, back then, she didn’t have the tits...

Angie Wade was, certainly, what most people would call a “late bloomer”. Not only had her academic and career successes mainly come after her teen years in High School - she’d graduated with Honors from Bowling Green, got her Masters, and now managed two (soon to be three) branches of KLG Bank - but her figure had taken some time to come in, also. When she had graduated, she had been a mostly forgettable member of the drama club, the thin, unremarkable brunette with the big forehead. But, soon, things changed. Since high school she’d put on - haha - nearly thirty pounds, the majority of it generously deposited into the fleshy curves she’d squeezed into this low-cut black top and tight, tight knee-length white skirt. She wanted these people - him especially - to see what had become of Angie Wade, to realize what they had missed. And, the evening had gone predictably. Most of the girls, even some she’d been friendly with in school, either wanted nothing to do with her or treated her with snobby derision - fuck them. Because every guy she’d spoken to tonight had been very keen to chat. Most had given her at least a fleeting glance down her top, and many could barely keep from staring. But she hadn’t talked to AJ Shaw yet....

...and he was right over there.

...

AJ stood at the banquet hall’s bar, idly stirring his bacardi and coke, while Megan Rommety chatted animatedly in his left ear. He’d learned, among a prattling twenty minutes’ worth of other things, that she was a recent divorcee (“her decision”, to hear her tell it) She was trying to flirt with him, he had no doubt. He had been excited about coming to this thing, the 10-year reunion for his Middlesex High School Class. He still hung out, pretty regularly, with some friends from the football team; he’d even hired a couple to work on his construction team. He still touched base with old girlfriends from time-to-time, Facebook or wherever; it was cool to see them with kids and flirt with them behind their husbands’ backs. But maybe there’d be some people from out of town to catch up with. Like Megan here: they’d been in a couple classes together, she’d dated a friend of his, been on the tennis team. She was nice to see, for the first few minutes, but now she was beginning to overstay her welcome in the seat next to him. “...anyway, after I kicked Brad out, I sold the house and bought my own condo down by the lake,” Megan was saying, stirring the ice cube in her chardonnay, “sooooo nice. Real hardwood floors, a view. You just have to come see it! In fact, kids are at my mom’s tonight and…” WHoahhh...Who was THAT?

“Yeah, I uh….” he said Wearing a black, low-cut top that revealed an impressive bulge of soft, creamy cleavage, she was smiling over at him, from across the room. In fact, “smile” might have been too soft of a word. There was something dramatic about the look she was giving him, something….yikes. His stomach fluttered and everything Megan was saying was being droned out, dissolving to just a buzz on his left. Taking a sip of her drink, this woman held his eye contact for an uncomfortably long time, before she began to strut over towards him. My god, AJ thought, that is a strut. Straight back and proud, each step in her killer heels brought a new jiggle to her chest and an extra sway to her hips in her tight, white skirt. This was a woman who knew how to walk, he could see that for sure, and draw eyes to herself. Was this someone from his class?? He had forgotten that he was in the middle of a sentence, a conversation. Hell, he practically forgot where he was. He’d kinda found that happening, recently. Pretty women seemed to throw him off base more easily than they used to. Ones with boobs, especially. “Hiya, remember me?” she said, sidling up to the bar and unceremoniously boxing Megan out. He tried to keep his eyes up, on her face, on her wide, wide smile. He knew he would look like an asshole if his eyes dropped to her tits….but it was a struggle. “I…uh” he began, as his mind began to work. He was usually so good at this! He felt like he knew everybody from his class, or at least everyone important. Especially the hot ones! But he was having trouble remembering this one, her name. Her face was sorta familiar, but he certainly didn’t recognize those curves from high school. “Uhmmmm…”

“Angie Wade?” Megan interjected, from half-behind the newcomer.

Oh yeah, Angela Wade.

“Angie Wade?” AJ finally managed, lights beginning to click on, “You were in drama club, right?” “That’s me!” Angie beamed, biting her lower lip flirtatiously, “You DO remember me!” He...he did remember her, yes, Angie. But certainly not like this. The Angie Wade he remembered had been...skinny. Maybe not quite a dork, but not someone with whom he’d ever associate. If he recalled, his friends had told him she’d been an admirer of his. God, if he’d known she’d grow up into this...wow, she really grew a pair. “Excuse me,” Megan piped in, pushing her short, coiffed-blonde hair behind her ear, “We...were in the middle of a conversation?” Obviously annoyed, Megan could see how AJ’s attention had suddenly been drawn to Angie Wade and her big new tits. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Angie responded, not bothering to hide a note of condescension. She shifted to unblock Megan from the conversation, a move that just brought her closer to AJ’s left side, and in fact let her press her big right breast into his left arm. She felt him shudder, almost imperceptibly, but tried to keep her smile to herself.

Angie glanced Megan up and down with a coy smirk before turning back to AJ. “So...Nice suit! You look great,” she said, knowing men’s weaknesses for flattery, “Seems like you’re doing well?” “Um, yeah! Thanks!,” AJ replied, wincing as he heard the weird enthusiasm in his voice. He can’t come across as creepy, just talking to this girl ‘cuz she’s built. He knew he had to maintain himself, his composure. “I’ve been good,” he continued, “Staying busy with work and-” Angie cut him off. “Yeah, I saw that your company has a bid in to renovate the stadium downtown,” she said, letting her eyes sparkle in admiration. Men loved that. “That’s soooo great…” They also loved this bimbo talk, she’d learned. “Yeah well, it’s um… an exciting project,” He finished lamely, glancing over at Megan, whose glare had gone icy. What was he doing? This was rude. He should try to involve Megan some more, but found himself just really not wanting to. “But enough about me,” he said to Angie, admiring the dramatically dark makeup around her eyes, “How are you doing?” “I’m doing SO, SO good!” Angie sang, right hand reaching behind AJ’s back, resting on a shoulder. Megan scoffed, watching as her left hand then found his knee. What a tramp. “‘So so good’?” Megan finally snapped, the derision in her voice unmistakable, “Last I heard you were working at Hooters. Brad said he saw you th-” “Oh, did he? Brad, your husband?” Angie smiled, turning finally to address Megan, smile big and white.

“Ex...husband…” Megan said, voice quickly fading.

“Hm. Well, did Brad mention that he used to come in every Tuesday and Thursday for lunch, with guys from work, or sometimes just by himself?” Angie continued, a new edge to her voice, “And when I moved to just weekends, he started showing up then, too?” She smiled as she saw Megan’s eyes go wide. She loved doing this shit to prissy bitches like Megan, when they thought they could flex. “Did Brad tell you that he always asked to be sat in my section, and when I finally left he’d asked the other girls about me? Where I went? Asked for my number?”

Megan’s jaw had started to quiver, and Angie had to keep herself from laughing. She remembered Brad, though it had been awhile. Guys from their old high school had often come to Hooters to drool, whether it was over her or younger girls like Shanette or Missy. Brad had been no different. “I guess he just saw something he liked…. “ Angie concluded, straightening her shoulders and pushing her boobs forward - which drew a glance from AJ, she noticed. “Maybe something he didn’t have at home?” “Holy shit y-you bitch,” Megan sputtered, doing her best to sound appalled but glancing down at her own modest bust, unable to keep from feeling a little inadequate. Yes, Brad had been “a boob guy”... Ignoring the insult with practiced aplomb, Angie turned back to AJ, catching him looking down her top. “Besides, you don’t mind...do you AJ?” she asked him, squeezing her right breast more firmly into his nicely-muscled arm, rubbing his broad shoulder through his suit jacket, “That I used to work at Hooters?” “Um, uh, what?” he stammered, uncomfortable with the tense exchange that had just happened between these two girls, feeling weird that he’d just sat here, passively. How was he supposed to answer this? “No...not at all,” he managed, “I think, uh, service work is perfectly dignified…” “See?” Angie giggled, still rubbing his shoulder and rewarding him with an extra bit of boob, “Good boy.” Angie giggled again, so pleased with herself. Megan, for herself, looked aghast, watching AJ - who she always thought was a pretty well-put-together guy - fall for this bimbo’s simple little tricks. God, what a pair of tits can do... “I…” “..was just leaving” Angie finished for her, fixing her with a bright white smile and withering stare. She watched as Megan took her drink and stood from her stool. “You gonna go call Brad?” she added, for good measure, “Tell him Angie from Hooters said hello.” “Tell him yourself,” Megan sneered, and then turned to him, “And, AJ, nice talking to you. Have fun with the Titty Monster.” With that she stomped off, and Angie’s smile curled.

“‘Titty Monster’”, Angie repeated, chuckling to herself, “That’s rich. I think I’ll use that.” She bit her lip, narrowed her eyes. “So….” she began, turning all her attention back on AJ, her high school crush. She almost couldn’t believe it herself: here she was, little Angie Wade, proudly claiming Aaron Joseph Shaw for herself, just because she could. It was like wrapping him around her little finger. “Can I have a seat?” “Oh, uh, yeah,” AJ replied, shaking his head. What was wrong with him? He hadn’t even said goodbye to Megan. “Of course…”

AJ half-stood, chivalrously, as if to help Angie up into Megan’s now-empty chair. He sat back, finally, and began to order them both a drink from the bartender with the dramatic mustache.

“Two vodka tonics, please,” Angie had insisted, speaking over him with a will that made his loins clinch.

From there, the flirting began in earnest, disguised by a conversation about their jobs. Angie avoided divulging too much about her situation, her successes at the bank. She knew the male ego could be a fragile thing, and she didn’t want to scare him away. AJ seemed to be a successful guy himself, in his own way, but boys tended to like their girls dumb, and she could play that up a bit when she needed to. So, no mention of the degrees, no mention of the awards. Instead, she had leaned forward towards him just enough to open her cleavage for his approval.

God, she has great tits, he thought to himself, marveling at their swell and mass, and I’m really getting to be a tit-guy these days. His eyes just could not keep themselves from falling down her top, and she seemed not to mind in the least. In fact, after their second drink together, her hand had found its way back to his knee and seemed to give him an encouraging squeeze every time his gaze strayed to her chest. She...she actually likes that I’m looking at her tits, he finally convinced himself, and had slowly started to relax.

After another drink, Angie finally sat up, stock straight, and slowly stretched her shoulders back to look around the room. Some of their old classmates had begun to leave, and the room was less abuzz than it had been. Predictably, his eyes had gone straight to her chest, and shot away before she met his gaze again. She waited for him to talk, knowing exactly what he wanted.

“So, it looks like things are starting to quiet down here,” he finally asked, “do you, uh, need a ride?”

Bingo. “No, I drove myself,” she answered, watching his face, seeing the old gears turning.

“Well, I was thinking about, y’know,” he began again, poking at the remaining ice in his drink, “heading back to my loft, downtown, if you wanted to, like, come with me…?” Angie smiled, and leaned in towards him, squeezing her arms together in a dramatic show of cleavage. “Hmmm, well,” she purred, watching his eyes struggle to maintain her gaze, “how about you come to my place tonight sweetie. It’s closer....”

At that, she leaned in to his ear, and whispered into it with a voice thick with seduction. “And I still have my Hooters outfit at home. I can try it on for you….see if it still fits?”

============================================

Angie attacks! A little GITJ tangent thread being co-written with AgeoftheGiantess, who you may know from GTScity. Look for her story to continue.

Next post, our first entry by new contributor Joyce Julep, available at my Patreon

#Growing Into the Job

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chilling-seavey · 3 years

Note

oh ok what about a blurb for sc where Daniel and Marigold go on their first date?

↳ A/N Such an iconic moment and such a simple yet special night🥺

↳ Word Count: 3793

↳ Seasons Change Taglist: @stuffofseaveyy @randomlimelightxxx @jonahlovescoffee @hiya-its-amber @hopinglimelight @onlyangelavery @sbrewer21 @bessonsbxtch @viamiasoncrack @the-girl-who-cried-wolf @21burritoseavey @queenseavey23 @xkelsev - Please click the link in my bio to be added to the taglist!

May 16, 2008

Daniel was sure that if he bit his lip any harder, he would draw blood. The high school hallways were bustling with students who all spoke and shouted over each other as they gathered their things after final bell before the weekend. The slamming of lockers and bumping of bodies didn’t even seem to phase Daniel as he stared right down the hallway to where Marigold was standing.

She had her hair in braids that day and she smiled so widely when Daniel gave her a weak compliment in first period. Even just thinking about it now had his stomach in knots. He had never been smooth and never been flirty and even that simple statement in passing made him nervous.

They had talked almost every day since they officially met in first period English. There was nothing Daniel looked forward to more than her sweet ‘Good morning, Daniel’ every day as she walked into the classroom and took her seat behind him. Talking with his friends at lunch led him to accept that he had a wholehearted crush on her and if he didn’t ask her out he would be royally doomed.

Thing is, Daniel made that realization only two weeks after they met and planned to ask her out on Valentine’s day but totally chickened out. Three months later, he was driving himself insane for putting it off so long. His friends said if he didn’t ask her out that week then they would do it for him and wouldn’t that be embarrassing.

It was Friday. After the last bell. He couldn’t put it off any longer.

With one more nervous pet to his hair and a straightening of his back, he made his way over. Marigold glanced up at him as he approached.

“Hey.” she grinned, “You never come visit me. What do I owe the pleasure?”

Daniel licked his lips nervously as he watched her tuck her binders into her rose patterned backpack.

When he didn’t answer, she looked back at him with a chuckle, “Hello?”

Daniel rose his eyes to hers and took a deep breath, “Do you wanna go out with me this weekend?”

A sweet smile played at the corner of Marigold’s mouth as she slung her zipped up bag over her shoulder and closed her locker, “I’m at my grandparents’ this weekend but I’m free tonight.”

Daniel’s eyes went wide, his breath stuttering in his chest for a moment, “Tonight? Tonight…y-yeah, okay, yeah, I can do tonight.”

“Okay.” Marigold nodded in agreement. “I gotta go…mom’s waiting…but message me on AIM with a time and place.”

“Yeah.” Daniel breathed out, watching her rush off past him with a hurried ‘bye!’ and into the hallway crowded with teenagers. He couldn’t hold back the little air punch in celebration for that and he hurried off into the crowd in the opposite direction before anyone could see his bit of a happy dance.

The moment Daniel got home, he was rushing towards the basement, “I need the computer! I need the computer!”

He nearly threw himself into the computer room, only to find his older brother already there.

“I’m mid-game.” Christian said without looking up. “You can have it after dinner.”

“No. No, no, I need it now. Please.” Daniel stood over him impatiently.

“For what?”

“None of your business.”

“I need to know to decide if it’s worth stopping my game.”

“It is! I need to get on AIM, like, now.”

Christian paused his playing and looked up at his brother, “Is it a girl?”

With the distraction that obviously worked, Daniel threw himself on his brother’s lap and unplugged the game controller and closed the window himself. Christian shouted at him in protest and Daniel did his best to hold his older brother back as he opened up AIM and found Marigold’s contact – labeled as ‘online’ - and drafted a super rushed message.

C u at 6 for dinner?

“Mom! Daniel is hogging the computer!” Christian shouted towards the stairs. “And rubbing his nasty butt on me!”

Daniel ignored him, muttering under his breath as he saw the typing icon pop up, “Come on, come on.”

Yes. Where?

I’ll pick u up

A smiley thumbs up emoticon came through as is reply just as Christian shoved him off his lap and onto the carpeted floor. Daniel only picked himself up with ease and tossed the controller at his older brother’s head.

“Go play your stupid game while I have a date with a real girl.”

He rushed for the stairs before Christian could smack him for the diss.

By 5:30, Daniel had showered and dressed in pants and a button-up and fixed his hair three times in the mirror in his room. He grabbed his jacket and keys and hurried for the door. He made it right out to the driveway before realizing he was forgetting something.

Marigold thought farther ahead than Daniel did – that wasn’t odd – and her address was waiting for him in their AIM messages when he returned to the computer. He scribbled it down on a scrap piece of paper and nearly tripped up the stairs on his way back upstairs to type it into the old GPS in his hand-me-down truck. Daniel wasn’t necessarily a clumsy guy but the nervousness that was pumping through him certainly made that his momentary unfortunate reality. He even forgot to take the car out of park before trying to back out of the driveway. A marigold flower that he had picked from his mother’s garden rested in the cupholder.

The robotic voice of the GPS led him through the suburban streets of West Hartford to a red brick Tudor house with lush gardens and a perfectly trimmed lawn. Daniel lingered in the driveway for a moment, staring up at the front door that was framed by two small lights, waiting for him. He took a deep breath, stepped out of his old truck, and walked cautiously up the few stone steps to the hedge trimmed front porch. He barely knocked on the wood door before it was pulled open, revealing Marigold on the other side.

His heart did a little skip.

“Hi.” she said sweetly.

Daniel tried to word his response as he stared at her with her long blonde hair left in their natural waves and her face dusted in light makeup. He finally got out a soft, “Hi. You…look so good.”

Marigold tucked her hair behind her ear, “Thank you. You look good too.”

Daniel shifted and held out the marigold flower to her, “I…would have brought more but this was kinda last minute.”

“Well aren’t you as sweet as sugar?” Marigold giggled as she took it from him and twirled it between her fingers, “But my favourite flowers are hydrangeas.”

“Shit.” Daniel muttered.

“Just remember for next time.” she said as she closed the front door behind her.

Daniel nodded lightly, “Next time.”

They headed to his truck and he opened the door for her and held out a hand to help her up the slightly large step into the passenger seat. Marigold thanked him with a smile and took his hand although the way she easily hopped in meant she really didn’t need any sort of help.

“Where are we going?” Marigold asked once Daniel turned the key in the rumbling ignition.

“It’s a surprise.” Daniel said, switching the truck into reverse and tucked his hand behind her chair to back out of the driveway.

Marigold smiled over at him, “I like surprises.”

“Don’t get your hopes up.” Daniel added quickly.

“Don’t second guess yourself.” she retorted, although her tone was gentle.

Their eyes met briefly from across the front seat of the truck and Daniel looked back quickly to the road, stuttering to a stop at a crosswalk. Marigold reached out a hand to the dashboard.

“Sorry.” Daniel said, “Not quite used to driving this thing yet.”

“That’s okay.” Marigold said easily. “I can’t drive at all so you’re already impressing me.”

Daniel smiled to himself as he continued driving more towards the centre of town. Marigold hummed softly and tucked the flower behind her ear, pulling down the sun visor to look in the small mirror to make sure it was sitting nicely.

“It’s a gorgeous shade of yellow. Did you grow it yourself?” she asked, tapping the petals gently before shutting the visor again.

“No.” Daniel chuckled. “My mom did. I don’t…know a lot about gardening.”

“What a shame.” Marigold tisked. “I love it.”

Her eyes went wide as they turned into a parking lot and she gasped as she threw out her hand to touch his arm. Daniel was sure shivers tore down his spine at her simple touch and he glanced over at her in surprise.

“Are we going to Wendy’s?” she asked.

“Is that okay?” Daniel retorted quickly.

“Yes!” Marigold grinned, clapping her hands together a little in excitement. “Wendy’s is my favourite!”

Daniel let the truck drift to a stop in the drive-thru lineup and he looked over at her, “Really? It’s mine too.”

“Wow. We sit next to each other for three entire months and yet we are still learning about each other.”

“I mean we talk more about Shakespeare than fast food and flowers in class but…yeah.” Daniel chuckled.

Marigold smiled at him, the sweetest giggle falling from her lips, and the dim lights from the restaurant sign and almost setting sun outside the windows cast a pretty yellow glow across her face. Daniel was sure he had never seen anything or anyone as beautiful.

She told him her order and he paid at the window and passed her the takeout bag to hold as he pulled out of the drive-thru. Marigold peeked open the bag and snuck a fry for herself before taking a second and holding it out in front of Daniel’s nose. He smiled shyly and leaned in to let her feed it to him as he drove. She folded up the top of the takeout bag and let her gaze drift out the window as they headed towards the outskirts of town.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked.

“You’ll see.” Daniel answered casually.

Marigold glanced over at him as he was focused on the road and she let a small smile come to her lips. He had this seriousness about him when he drove, or maybe that was just his first date jitters taking over, as his bottom lip stayed wedged between his teeth and his hands stayed wrapped around the steering wheel. He took them out of the suburbs and into the outskirts of town where the buildings moulded into farmland and the street lamps turned into rickety telephone wires. Daniel - who only had his license for a few months - drove extra cautiously as pavement turned into dirt roads. The sun was still just over the horizon but was dropping quickly and the hues of sunset were fluttering through the truck and across their faces.

Daniel finally pulled into an alcove at the side of the road, down a slightly narrow dirt path that somewhat resembled someone’s driveway. Marigold simply held their takeout bag on her lap and trusted his process. He did a slightly rusty three-point-turn to reverse at the end of the path and then parked.

“Where are we?” Marigold asked with a slightly nervous giggle.

“Come.” Daniel opened the door and hopped out onto the dirt below. Marigold followed him around the truck with the takeout bag and he opened the back to reveal the bed of the truck made up with blankets and pillows.

Marigold bit back her smile and turned over her shoulder to the vast expanse of farmland beyond and a perfect view of the sunset and the outskirts of the city in the distance.

“Is it stupid? You can tell me.” Daniel said quickly.

“No.” she answered right away. “I really love this.”

“Good because my other option was bowling and I really suck at bowling.” Daniel sighed.

Marigold laughed sweetly and climbed up into the back of the truck. He followed quickly and they got the pillows arranged to rest back on with the blankets under them to prevent the hard plastic of the truck bed from becoming too uncomfortable. They split their food and ate on their laps while watching the sunset. Daniel was almost too nervous to eat - he felt like he might be sick any moment - but he ate anyway and focused on the soft humming coming from the pretty blonde girl beside him.

“How’d you find this spot?” Marigold finally asked.

“By chance, honestly.” Daniel shrugged. “I was practicing my driving before I got my full license and I was up around here and pulled over to answer a call from my mom and...I dunno...it looked kinda nice.”

Marigold nodded in agreement through a bite of her burger before answering, “It is kinda nice.”

“You’re the first person I’ve taken here.”

“Oh really?” Marigold smiled over at him, “I’m glad. Maybe this can be our spot.”

Daniel bit his lip to prevent himself from smiling as wide as he possibly could back at her and he nodded, “Okay.”

They finished their meals in near silence and by the time the sun finally dipped below the horizon and sent the land into near darkness, they rested back against the pillows comfortably. Daniel pulled up one of the blankets over their laps to keep warm as night fell and the temperature started to drop. Marigold was entranced by the views, her gaze unwavering as she stared up at the stars starting to appear across the inky sky.

“You can never see the stars from town.” she whispered.

Daniel looked from her up to the sky himself and smiled lightly at the blinking stars staring back at them.

“They’re so pretty.” Marigold said.

He looked back over at her, certainly finding her much prettier than the stars. He couldn’t believe she was really truly there with him - after months of psyching himself out and putting it off. She was the prettiest girl in the whole school, Daniel was sure of it, not to mention the sweetest and thinking about the fact that she so easily agreed to go out with him made his heart jump in his chest.

As if reading his thoughts, she asked, “Why’d you want to ask me out?”

Daniel was startled by her question and when he didn’t answer right away she looked back at him expectantly.

“I...You...were the prettiest girl I’d ever seen when you walked into the classroom at the start of term and...so nice to me and so...sweet and...I’ve had a serious crush on you for weeks now but I was too scared to ever do anything about it.”

Marigold lolled her head back against the rear window of the truck and listened so intently to him that you’d think he was preaching the gospel.

“So why now?” she challenged.

“Truth?” Daniel asked.

She nodded.

“My friends said if I didn’t ask you out by the end of the week, they’d do it for me and I don’t think I could ever recover from that embarrassment if they did.”

“Ah, so you waited for the eleventh hour?” Marigold giggled.

“Yeah.” Daniel laughed lightly, looking back down to his lap where he was picking nervously at the loose threads on the blanket draped over them.

Marigold spoke quietly to him, her eyes focused on his face even when he wasn’t looking back at her, “Well you know I’m not shy by any means but...I kinda always got a little nervous around you.”

Daniel finally looked back at her, “What? Really?”

She bit her smiling lip and nodded, “I kinda had a serious crush on you too. I’d get all nervous before first period because I knew I’d be seeing you.”

“Shut up. You did not.” Daniel blushed, looking away from her shyly.

“I did. I did, I swear.” Marigold giggled. “You were just so cute and quiet and made me feel like a little kid all shy.”

“You shoulda told me.” Daniel mumbled, his cheeks flushed pink.

Marigold nudged him, “You shoulda told me.”

They looked back out to the stars, smiling to themselves quietly at the confessions of the other. By the light of the stars, Marigold slid her hand out and brushed over his wrist ever so gently. His eyebrows furrowed a moment in confusion and turned his left hand out palm up as if expecting her to pass him something but all she did was slide her fingers into his and held his hand. Daniel kept his eyes on the sky but gladly kept a snug grip on her hand, ignoring the sickening sweet butterflies that flew around in his stomach.

“My mom says I can get too friendly sometimes so if I cross a line just tell me.” Marigold said.

“You’re fine.” Daniel assured her with a whisper.

She shuffled closer and leaned her head on his shoulder and he swore the feeling of her so close had the most blissful warmth radiating throughout his whole body. He gently rubbed his thumb over hers and she gave his hand a squeeze. Is this what heaven felt like? Daniel never wanted to leave. Just to sit forever just them and the stars.

They sat just like that for a while, sharing whispered conversations about home and their families and their favourite movies. Even when their palms got a little clammy as the minutes moulded into hours, they didn’t move from their spot.

Their spot.

Curfew approached faster than they would have liked to admit and Daniel turned to look at her in their close proximity. Their noses touched as she was still leaned up into his side but she just brushed hers over his and they shared little shy giggles. He could have kissed her right then and there. The stars sparkled in her light blue eyes and he could feel the warmth of her body against his and she was staring at him like she wanted him to.

Daniel shifted slowly and dusted a kiss over her cheek instead before slipping his hand out of hers, “We should head back.”

His shyness made her smile and she let her gaze linger on him a moment longer as he gathered their empty takeout bag and shifted the blanket off of their laps. Daniel never often noticed the way she stared at him when he wasn’t paying attention, always with that same soft smile and adoring light eyes, ever since that very night of their very first date.

Daniel mentally beat himself up the entire drive back into town for not kissing her. The opportunity was right there and he chickened out. As they pulled into Marigold’s driveway, he told himself he was going to kiss her and end the date as it should end. He parked and took a deep breath before looking over at her.

“Thank you for tonight.” Marigold smiled. “I had fun.”

“You’re welcome.” Daniel replied quickly.

“Dinner was great...the stars...everything...it was incredible.”

Daniel only nodded, trying to find that perfect beat of silence so he could go for it but Marigold wasn’t really one to ever stop talking.

“I haven’t really been on dates before...but this one was certainly my favourite. Even the flower. Especially the flower.” she touched the yellow marigold that was still tucked behind her ear before grabbing her small purse and opened the door.

“I’ll walk you up.” Daniel said hurriedly and jumped out of the truck with her.

He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his pants as they headed up the front steps and she smiled widely at him.

“What a gentleman.” she complimented, a hint of teasing in her tone just to make him blush.

She reached for the door handle but turned back to him almost expectantly. Daniel almost went for it but she spoke again.

“So...are we dating then?”

Her question took Daniel by surprise but she smiled sweetly at him as she waited for his answer.

He licked his lips nervously but nodded, “Yeah. I’d...I’d like that.”

“Daniel, will you be my boyfriend?”

“I’m supposed to ask you!”

“You asked me on the date so it’s only fair I can ask you to date me.”

“That’s...that’s not...Marigold, will you be my girlfriend?”

“Only if you agree to be my boyfriend.”

“You’re so stubborn, oh my gosh.” Daniel laughed nervously.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yeah, obviously.”

“Yeah, obviously.” Marigold giggled, using his words as her reply too, their momentary banter falling into silence.

This was the moment.

Daniel stepped closer to her and leaned down slightly, sliding his hand to the side of her neck and gently tilted her head up towards him. They were only a mere inch apart before the front door was tugged open and Marigold, who still had her hand on the handle, went stumbling backwards with a gasp.

“Mari!”

Marigold turned to her younger sister with a huff, “What, Iris? What is it?”

The blonde girl in the doorway - who looked a heck of a lot like Marigold apart from her slightly darker blonde hair and much greener eyes - continued loudly, “Do you know where my purple skirt is? I need it for this weekend!”

“You couldn’t have waited two more minutes for me to come inside?” Marigold scolded lightly.

Daniel shifted shyly on his feet and kept his hands in his pockets as she reprimanded her little sister.

“Hey,” the younger teenager looked past her to Daniel, “Aren’t you Anna Seavey’s brother?”

Daniel nodded stiffly, “Yeah.”

“Jesus! She’s like the coolest freshman in the entire school. Mari, are you dating Anna’s brother?!”

“Iris! You’re being rude. And don’t say Jesus.”

“Okay, but have you seen my skirt? Can you help me find it?”

Daniel chuckled at Marigold’s obviously unimpressed expression but she sighed in defeat, always too nice for her own good.

“Fine. I’m coming.” Marigold looked back to Daniel, “Sorry.”

He waved his hand between them casually, “Nah, it’s fine.”

“I’ll see you on Monday.” she smiled. “Thanks again for tonight.”

Daniel nodded and watched her be pulled inside by her fourteen-year-old sister. He lingered on her front porch for a moment before exhaling deeply and running his hands through his hair. Merely a few hours before he was pathetically pining over this girl from his english class and suddenly, by nightfall, he was her boyfriend.

Daniel drove home in his hand-me-down pickup truck that lingered with the scent of her floral drugstore perfume. No junior would ever say this, but he couldn’t wait until Monday.

#my taglist keeps not working so im trying it at the top of my posts to see if that changes anything lol #🌼#daniel seavey #why dont we #daniel seavey imagines #why dont we imagines #daniel seavey oneshots #why dont we oneshots

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crossbowking · 4 years

Text

Space Between Us

Summary: (Set at the beginning of Alexandria) After the reader has one too many drinks, she finds herself being taken care of by the archer.

Request: “I’m here if you need anything, okay?” @anonymous

A/N: I’m so sorry this one has taken so long for me to finish! With all of the shit going on in the world, it’s been a crazy couple of weeks. I hope everyone out there is staying safe during this time!

Also, I’m so sad about the season 10 finale getting pushed back because of this virus.

Ugh.

Hopefully, this story can bring y’all a little joy during this time.

xx crossbowking

Masterlist

Ko-fi Account

It wasn’t until after you’d finished your fourth glass of wine that you realized you should’ve stopped at your third.

You hadn’t been able to help yourself though — you’d just gotten caught up in the moment, the normalcy, of what was going on around you.

Alexandria was like nothing you’d ever seen before. You hadn’t thought places like this could even exist in the new world you lived in. Yet, here it stood — with steel walls and fortified gates, with watchtowers and armories. There were children of all ages, running around as if there weren’t flesh-eating hoards of the dead roaming outside. There was enough food and water for all, enough medical supplies to stock up a small infirmary. There was even a beautiful garden, for fuck’s sake.

The people within the community had no clue — no concept — of just how bad things had gotten outside their walls.

And just how good they had it inside of them.

When Deanna had first invited your group into her home, to partake in some sort of makeshift ‘welcome to the neighborhood’ party, you’d been hesitant. After everything you’d seen, after everything you’d been through the past few months — the Governor, the Claimers, Terminus — the last thing you’d wanted to do was dress up and play pretend, as if the world hadn’t completely gone to shit.

Still, it was important that you try, that your entire group try — to fit in, to mingle, to get a feel of what exactly you were about to get yourselves into.

And even more so, it was important that you scoped out the people of Alexandria. Your group didn’t trust easy — and for good reason.

You had a little more faith than Rick and the rest of the group. Faith that there were still good people out there and maybe, just maybe, you’d found some here.

Although that could’ve been the wine talking.

A hand suddenly appeared in front of your face, waving back and forth. “Hello? Earth to Y/N,” Maggie teased from beside you, drawing you back from your dazed thoughts.

You glanced down at her sheepishly, swaying slightly from where you sat, perched on the arm of the couch. “Hm?” you hummed faintly, a lazy smile creeping across your face.

Maggie laughed aloud, her features softening for the first time in what seemed like forever as she turned to whisper something to Glenn, who sat beside her.

“Hey, hey, hey, what’re you two love birds whisperin’ ‘bout over there?” you protested with a pout, leaning over in an attempt to eavesdrop — but you suddenly found yourself tipping over, your balance having disappeared right around that second glass of wine, and landed in a clumsy pile beside Maggie.

The pair dissolved into a fit of laughter as you struggled to upright yourself, finding an unexpected giggle slip through your own lips as you gave up with a huff, your face pressed against the back cushion of the couch. “Help?” you asked pathetically, words muffled against the fabric.

Maggie stifled another laugh as she grabbed your hand, pulling you up into a seated position. Glenn shared an elusive look with Maggie, the two seemingly having a silent conversation, before he stood suddenly, extending his hand towards you. “Alright, come on.”

You accepted his reach without question, allowing him to help you up, swaying slightly on your feet. “Ooh, where we goin’?” you mumbled as Maggie joined the two of you.

“Glenn’s gonna take ya home, alright?” Maggie assured, still looking as though she was struggling to keep a straight face.

“What!” you protested, pulling your hand from Glenn’s. “I’m fine — seriously, I’m — I’m fine,” you nodded, waving off the couple as you attempted to do your best impression of a sober person.

“Okay, Y/N,” Glenn relented, crossing his arms over his chest before he smirked at you, shooting Maggie a look you couldn’t quite interpret. “Say the alphabet backward,” he challenged.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring how the motion made your head spin. “Hey, hey, no! That’s not — that’s not supposed to be your shit! Shit, I mean shtick,” you fussed, waggling your finger. “That’s — that should be Rick’s thing, right? ‘Cause, ‘cause he is a man of the law,” you grinned, drawing out the word ‘law’ before you grabbed onto Glenn’s shoulder. “Ya feel me? Ya feel me, brother?” you gasped softly, looking around in bewilderment. “Whoa, that was weird.”

Maggie covered her mouth to stop herself from laughing directly in your face before she excused herself, spotting Rosita motioning her over from the other side of the room.

“Alright, alright, let’s go,” Glenn ushered you forward despite your weakening protests.

You groaned dramatically, earning a side-eye from a couple of Alexandria’s residents — but you simply ignored them, allowing your friend to guide you out of the living room and through the front door.

The cool night air rushed to meet your flushed skin as you inhaled sharply, shaking your head back and forth in an attempt to clear some of the haziness you felt. But the motion threw you off balance and you teetered at the edge of the porch stairs for a moment before Glenn steadied you. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he cautioned before helping escort you down the steps safely.

You turned to him once you reached the sidewalk, widening your bleary eyes as you grabbed onto his arm. “Hey, can I ask you somethin’?” you suddenly mumbled, staggering briefly.

Glenn’s expression became serious as he turned to face you fully, his kind eyes locking with yours. “You okay?” he asked, worry etching his features, making him seem much older than he was.

“Is — oops, shit, sorry,“ you fumbled backward for a moment, having accidentally stepped on Glenn’s foot. You stiffened, keeping yourself upright as you took a deep breath. “Is Glenn short for Glennith?”

Glenn froze for a moment as though the question hadn’t fully registered before a smile broke across his face.

“What?” you questioned, brows knitted in confusion. “Come on, what!” you pressed, suddenly unable to stop giggling as you swayed back and forth.

“This is my favorite version of you,” Glenn laughed, reaching out to steady you once more before he jerked his head to the side, making a move to leave.

You took a step forward before faltering, gasping softly. “Shoot,” you murmured under your breath. Glenn shot you a confused look, quirking a brow at the dramatics. “I forgot my jacket,” you frowned, crossing your arms over your chest as a chill racked through you.

“Oh, I got it,” Glenn offered, turning back towards the house — but not before shooting you a firm look. “You just hang out here for a second, okay?”

You nodded, giving your friend two big thumbs up.

Glenn rolled his eyes, though a smirk was still etched on his face. “I mean it,” he urged, pointing a finger at you as he hurried back up the stairway and disappeared inside the house.

You sighed contently, unsure of the last time you’d felt this good — this free. Clearly, your tolerance for alcohol wasn’t what it used to be — but in that moment, alone in the quiet, the chilled night air biting at your exposed flesh, you simply couldn’t find it in you to give a damn.

“What’re ya doin’?” came a sudden voice, breaking the stillness.

You startled, spinning around on your heels towards where the sound came from. But you misstepped, one foot slipping off the sidewalk and onto the road, pitching you forward. Though you managed to stay standing, you straightened too quickly, suddenly losing your balance completely and tumbling down hard onto your right side. “Oof!” you huffed as your body slammed against the pavement, the skin on your right palm tearing as you attempted to catch yourself before your face hit the ground. “Yep, that’s gonna leave a mark,” you groaned through clenched teeth as you rolled onto your back, throwing one arm across your eyes.

You were vaguely aware of footsteps approaching, boots scuffing against asphalt before halting in front of you. “The hell’s wrong with ya?” came that same gruff voice from before, though closer this time.

You lifted your arm slightly, peeking up at the archer now standing above you before you covered your eyes once more. “I fell,” you exhaled defeatedly.

Daryl grunted softly. “I saw.”

You sighed once more, pushing up onto your elbows, locking eyes with the archer. “What can I say? I’m an athlete,” you shrugged sarcastically, waving one hand around as though you were royalty.

“Mhm,” Daryl murmured, nodding along — though you could’ve sworn you saw the hint of a smile toying at his lips before he reached his hand down towards you.

The sober version of yourself would’ve been mortified — but this version, this version couldn’t care less.

You took the archer’s hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet, swaying briefly until you found your balance. You huffed, blowing a misplaced strand of hair out of your face before your eyes settled on Daryl’s, noticing that he’d already been watching you. “Hi,” you smiled sweetly, wondering if you should be concerned that you could no longer feel your face.

Daryl scoffed lightly, unwinding his hand from yours, shoving it deep into the pocket of his jeans before his expression became serious. “Ya shouldn’t be out here alone, ya know,” he rumbled, surveying the surrounding area with guarded eyes. “Ain’t safe.”

You pursed your lips, looking up and down the darkened street before pointing towards the massive walls surrounding the community. “That’s why — that’s why they built these big ass walls, Dixon,” you shot back, tapping your finger to your temple. “Keeps the outside — the outside, uh, outside, you know?”

Daryl grunted. “Ain’t the outside we oughta be worried ‘bout,” he muttered under his breath before pausing, giving you a brief once over as if he was really looking at you for the first time. Then he slowly leaned forward, narrowed eyes boring into yours and you found yourself subconsciously holding your breath under his scrutinizing stare.

“What?” you asked, somewhat self consciously, ignoring the heat suddenly rushing to your cheeks.

“How much have ya had?” he questioned blankly.

“What —“

“Ta’ drink, Y/N,” he demanded, growing irritated for reasons unbeknownst to you.

“Oh,” you frowned, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “What’s it matter?”

Daryl opened his mouth to respond, but the sound of a door closing drew your attention away.

You spun around, wavering slightly, your nerves still buzzing from the moment previous as you watched Glenn hurry down the steps, your jacket in hand. “Glenn!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands up into the air.

But Glenn didn’t seem fazed — instead, his expression looked tenser than it had before. He spotted Daryl behind you and nodded an acknowledgment as he approached. “Hey,” he breathed, slightly out of breath, glancing over his shoulder back up at Deanna’s house. “Here,” he murmured, handing over your jacket, peeking up at the house once more.

“What’s goin’ on?” Daryl questioned immediately, stepping up onto the sidewalk beside you.

You glanced over at the archer, his normally unreadable features back in place — but he clearly knew something was going on that you hadn’t noticed.

“No, nothing — just —“ Glenn sighed, rubbing one eye with the heel of his hand. “Sasha. She’s — she’s kind of having a tough time in there.”

Then as if on cue, Sasha came barreling through the front door, rushing down the stairs as though someone was after her. She spared the three of you a quick, flustered glance before she pushed past Glenn’s outstretched hand and stormed down the sidewalk, away from everyone else.

Glenn exhaled heavily, looking back at you and Daryl somberly. “Like I said, she’s having a tough time,” he murmured, rubbing a hand through his hair as he shifted, looking torn all of the sudden.

“Go,” Daryl suddenly rumbled.

Glenn glanced at you before looking at Daryl. “But —“

“M’ goin’ back ta’ the house anyways,” the archer interrupted. “I got her.”

You were about to ask who this ‘her’ was that they were talking about — but then Glenn was jogging off in the direction Sasha has just gone and Daryl was nudging you in the opposite direction.

“Wha — oh, alrighty then,” you stumbled forward slightly, feeling Daryl grab onto your elbow to keep you upright.

The longer you walked, the more your buzz began to wear off, the crisp night air having an efficient way of sharpening your senses. Neither you or the archer spoke, walking side by side in silence — you didn’t mind, though. You’d always felt oddly comfortable around him.

When you’d first joined the group back at Atlanta, everyone had warned you of the archer. They’d said he was hotheaded and aggressive, hostile and impulsive — especially living under the shadow of his older brother. But you’d never thought any of that — honestly, when you’d looked at him back then, you’d just thought he seemed scared.

And rightfully so if you had anything to say about it.

You sighed aloud, hugging the jacket you still held close to your chest. The house your group shared came into view — you’d only been at Alexandria for a couple of days and it seemed like no one was quite comfortable enough to move into their own spaces yet. You didn’t care — you preferred to be in close proximity to your family — it was the only way to keep everyone safe.

Daryl was so silent, you almost forgot he was beside you. Not even his footsteps made a sound — that was probably why he made such a good hunter, you thought to yourself. But you didn’t have to look at him to know he was deep in his thoughts, his mind constantly on edge, reliving the brutal past and anxiously waiting for the next bad thing to occur.

You nudged him gently. “Hey,” you murmured, your hazy eyes locking with his troubled ones. “We’re gonna be okay,” you whispered softly.

Daryl huffed, approaching the front steps of the house. “I jus’ don’t trust ‘em, is all,” he finally grumbled.

“You? Not trusting people? You’re kidding!” you teased, feigning surprise as you stepped up onto the stairs.

Karma came at you full force then — you realized too little too late that you’d misjudged your growing sobriety. Almost immediately, your foot slipped out from under you, causing you to topple forward, the steps rushing up to meet your face. But before you could fully face plant, you felt Daryl grab onto one of your flailing arms, stopping your fall just in time. “Shit,” you breathed, craning your neck to look at the archer. “I guess I deserved that one for sassing you,” you groaned, using your free hand to push yourself up.

You hissed suddenly, pain spreading through the palm of your right hand as you straightened — you’d forgotten all about your little tumble outside of Deanna’s. But before you could get a good look at your palm, Daryl’s hand snaked around your wrist, bring your arm closer to his face. He inspected your hand by the light streaming from the front porch, his expression neutral. “C’mon,” he mumbled, releasing his hold on you, nudging you up the stairs.

You cradled your hand to your chest, the pain sharper now that you were sobering up. But above anything else, you simply felt embarrassed. For drinking too much, for making an ass out of yourself — especially in front of him.

Your head hung low as you carefully maneuvered up the stairs and followed the archer inside. You spared the back of his head one last look before sighing, turning towards the stairs that led to the second floor, determined to stow yourself away in pure mortification.

“Where’re ya goin’?” Daryl’s voice cut through the silence.

You faltered, one foot already on the first step. “Oh —“

“C’mere,” he stated simply, waving you forward as he made his way into the kitchen — it wasn’t a request, you realized a moment later.

Your brows knitted in confusion as you set your jacket down on the railing, following the archer into the next room. You stood awkwardly in the doorway, watching Daryl stomp around the kitchen in a whirlwind, opening and closing cabinets, clearly searching for something. He glanced at you from over his shoulder. “Sit.”

His tone of voice made you feel like a child — but still, you did as he told, sliding down into one of the chairs around the dining table. You propped your head up with your left hand, uncurling the fingers on your right hand to examine the cut.

It wasn’t as bad as you’d thought — there were a couple of scrapes, some deeper than others, and little dark specks inside of the torn skin, most likely rocks or small pieces of gravel.

A soft clink drew your attention and you noticed the archer now standing beside you, a glass of water now placed on the table. “Drink,” he grunted before turning without another word.

You watched his retreating form, your eyes narrowing as he began searching the cabinets once more. “Have you always been this bossy or am I just realizing it now?” you challenged, quirking a brow. Daryl didn’t turn around but you heard a soft grunt which you chose to interpret as a ‘yes’.

You rolled your eyes, but grabbed the glass of water nonetheless, nearly chugging the entire contents in one gulp — you hadn’t even realized you’d been that thirsty. Daryl continued to move about the kitchen, clearly on some kind of mission, searching for something he was having trouble locating. But you were content to sit and simply watch him exist — you’d always found him as somebody you had a hard time not noticing.

You took another long swig of water as the archer reappeared at the table, holding a bowl in one hand and a first aid kit in the other. He set the bowl down and slid it towards you. “Eat,” he rumbled, his tone still demanding as he sat down on the chair diagonal from you.

Whatever smart-ass comment you were about to make fell short when you peered inside the bowl, a soft gasp escaping through your lips as you peeked up at the archer. “Is — is this —” a small smile crept over your face. “Spaghetti?”

“Aaron,” the archer answered simply, sliding a fork towards you.

You picked up the utensil from the table, digging into the meal without a second thought, unable to stop the blissful moan that came out of you after the first bite. “Oh my God,” you sighed around the food in your mouth. “I love him — I, I mean, I truly love him.”

“Alright, easy, girl,” Daryl grumbled, rummaging through the kit before pulling out tweezers, gauze and alcohol wipes.

You laughed softly. “Don’t be jealous,” you teased, shoveling another big forkful of pasta into your mouth.

The archer merely rolled his eyes, though you could’ve sworn his gaze darkened. “Lemme see,” he suddenly grumbled, grabbing the hand you’d injured, laying it onto the tabletop, palm facing the ceiling.

Using your free hand, you continued eating, every mouthful further sobering you up. Your body was starting to feel sluggish, your eyelids growing heavier with each passing moment as you finished your last bite, sighing contently.

You pushed the bowl away as you propped your head up with your free hand, watching the archer’s steady movements. He picked up the tweezers, resting them between his fingertips as he slid his other hand beneath yours, bringing your palm closer to his face. His eyes narrowed as he inspected the cut on your hand, using the dimmed light above the kitchen table to survey the damage done.

He pulled your fingers back slightly, the skin on your palm stretching as he hunched over, his soft breath tickling your skin. His touch was surprisingly gentle, you realized then.

“Huh,” you breathed softly, the corner of your mouth quirking up.

Daryl glanced up, regarding you warily. “What?” he mumbled, almost self-consciously.

“Dr. Dixon,” you waggled your eyebrows, a soft laugh slipping through your lips as the archer rolled his eyes, though you could’ve sworn you saw the tips of his ears suddenly turn pink.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, though his tone lacked any harshness. He brought the tweezers to your skin, slowly pushing them deeper into your palm until he was able to grasp an imbedded piece of gravel.

You winced, fighting back the urge to curl your hand into a fist. Daryl glanced up at you, scanning your features for a moment before he continued removing the small pieces of rock, moving a fraction slower than before.

Daryl was efficient — he had your wound cleaned and bandaged within minutes, neither of you uttering a word the entire time. You were content to just watch, keeping your gaze on his features to distract you from the burning sensation on your palm. He was incredibly focused — looking as though he was diffusing bomb instead of simply wrapping your hand in gauze.

His brow was furrowed, eyes narrowed — though that seemed to be a permanent feature of his. You suddenly felt this overwhelming urge to touch him, to brush away some of the worry etched on his face — to just be closer to him.

But you fought back the urge, instead bumping your knee against his to draw his attention. “Hey,” you murmured as your eyes locked. “Everything’s gonna be okay, you know.”

Daryl was quiet for a moment, his gaze searching yours before he finished the last wrap, releasing your hand from his.

“I mean it,” you pressed, sighing softly. “Even if it doesn’t work out here, we’re gonna be alright. I need you to know that, D. I just —“ you exhaled, blowing a strand of hair out of your face. “I’m here if you need anything, okay? Anything.”

The archer remained silent, a flash of something flitting across his features as his eyes flickered down to look at your lips before locking with yours once more. “Ya got somethin’ on your face,” he suddenly murmured.

“What!” you squeaked out, leaning away from him abruptly, feeling your face flush.

Daryl pointed to the corner of his lips. “There,” he motioned, his mouth twitching as though he was struggling to keep a straight face.

Your lips formed into a pout as you pathetically felt around your face. “I was just trying to have a moment with you — you know what, whatever!” you fussed dramatically as you wiped your face, realizing a moment too late that you’d used the back of your bandaged hand. You looked down at the red stains now soaking into the gauze. “Spaghetti sauce,” you whispered defeatedly, glancing up at the archer.

Daryl was still for a moment before his face softened, a deep, rumbling laugh coming from his chest — the sound so rare it immediately caught you off guard.

And so you sat back in your seat, fondly watching the archer, desperately wanting to savor the fleeting moment.

Daryl’s gaze caught yours and his laugh faded, in its place a small, somewhat sad smile. His features settled after a moment before he lowered his head — you couldn’t place the emotion he was suddenly exuding, but it seemed to resemble something like embarrassment.

For letting his tough exterior slip? For allowing a moment of joy to overcome him?

You weren’t sure.

All you knew was that you’d give anything — anything — to soothe his bruised and weary soul.

You regarded him carefully, studying his features under the dimmed kitchen light — his guarded eyes, focused downward, his pressed lips, only parting when he brought the side of his thumb between them, the faint scar above his right eyebrow, peeking through the hair that fell over his face.

Then without thinking, you reached forward.

You didn’t miss the way Daryl flinched at your sudden movement, his entire body going rigid. You faltered, pushing past the unexpected heartache you felt. Your outstretched fingers hovered between you before you extended your reach, gently brushing back the hair that covered the archer’s eyes. “There,” you whispered, a somber smile flickering across your lips.

A beat of stillness passed as Daryl’s gaze searched yours, clearly caught off guard but a look in his eyes you had never seen before.

You exhaled, hoping the archer couldn’t hear the shakiness within your breath as you leaned back. “I —” you breathed quietly, attempting to collect yourself. “I should probably get some sleep,” you murmured, pushing past the lump in your throat, afraid of what would happen if you spent one more second with such little space between you.

“Mhm,” Daryl mumbled, nodding once, his expression unreadable though the air between you was buzzing — practically electric — every nerve ending in your body feeling as though they’d been set ablaze. It was as though there was some sort of magnetic pull, drawing you together, the distance between you becoming smaller and smaller until —

The front door suddenly splintered opened, you and Daryl simultaneously jumping to your feet at the intrusion, heavy breaths mirroring each other as you spun towards the noise.

Acting on pure instinct, Daryl yanked his hunting knife from the sheath hanging from his belt, taking a defensive step forward, part of his body automatically moving to shield you.

But when Sasha came into view, storming past the kitchen and up the stairs without a second glance, you let out the breath you’d been holding, your head dropping into your hands as your cheeks flushed, the moment prior finally registering.

What the fuck was that.

From the corner of your eye, you watched Daryl slowly retract his knife, slipping it back into its sheath. You snuck a glance at him, his body so still you weren’t even sure he was breathing.

You dropped your hands with a huff, carefully maneuvering around the archer without touching him, keeping your gaze forward as you slowly walked to the kitchen doorway. You paused once you reached the entrance, turning around to glance back at Daryl, who remained frozen in place.

“Uh,” you murmured awkwardly, gnawing on your bottom lip for a moment, trying to push past the fuzziness you felt in your stomach. “I’m — I’m gonna head to bed. Uh, thank you —“ you held up your bandaged hand. “Thank you for this,” you finished, awkwardly waving at the archer.

Daryl’s eyes remained fixed on the far wall, motionless, avoiding your gaze completely.

You sighed quietly, feeling like a fool for whatever had transpired before — and though you knew you should’ve just gone straight to bed, you couldn’t help the next words that came tumbling from your lips. “I’m sorry — shit, I’m so sorry. I-I don’t know what happened, but I didn’t mean — you and I —“ you huffed a breath, throwing your hands up. “Damn it, I don’t know. I’m just — I’m sorry.”

You were mortified — even more so when Daryl barely even flinched at your words, acting as though he hadn’t even heard them at all. You sighed quietly, turning to leave when suddenly, the archer spoke.

“Y/N?” his voice seemed thick, like it’d caught in his throat.

You locked eyes with him from over your shoulder, your heart beating a fraction faster. “Hm?” you hummed, not trusting your voice.

He was silent for what seemed like forever until he straightened, as if he was attempting to build some courage, steeling himself for whatever he was about to say. “Ya don’t ever gotta apologize ta’ me,” he rumbled simply.

You let his words settle, the intent behind them more meaningful than you could even comprehend in that moment. A small smile grew across your lips as you nodded slowly, a familiar heat flushing across your features. “Goodnight, Daryl,” you whispered, pushing away from the doorway and towards the stairs.

And as your foot landed on the first step, you heard a soft mumble echo from the other room.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

A/N: So...how did y’all like this one!?

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onecanonlife · 3 years

Text

careful son (you got dreamer's plans)

Wilbur gasps back to life with mud between his fingers and rain in his eyes.

Wilbur was dead. Now, he is not. He can't say that he's particularly happy about it.

Unfortunately, the server is still as tumultuous as ever, even with Dream locked away, so it seems that his involvement in things isn't a matter of if, but when.

(Alternatively: the prodigal son returns, and a broken family finally begins to heal. If, that is, the egg doesn't get them all killed first.)

Chapter Word Count: 8,975

Chapter Warnings: swearing, mentioned death, mild sui.cidal ideation

Chapter Summary: In which Wilbur has several conversations of emotional import, and then comes face to face with his son.

(masterpost w/ ao3 links)

(first chapter) (previous chapter) (next chapter)

Chapter Sixteen: head down

“Are you sure you’re good?” Tommy asks him.

Around them, the lava of the nether pops and crackles, the heat sticking to him like resin. Techno and Phil walk ahead of them, swords out in readiness for the odd ghast or hoglin, and Ranboo trails along behind them like a lost duckling. He could walk with them, he knows, probably should, but weariness clings to his bones today, and he doesn’t feel much up to the conversations he knows Phil might try to start. So he’s been walking a few paces to the rear, hands shoved in his pockets, but now here is Tommy, dropping back to keep pace with him.

“I’ve said it already, haven’t I?” he asks, and just an ounce of irritation leaks into his tone. “I’m fine, Tommy, I promise. And I’ve already had an earful from Phil this morning, so I don’t need you to repeat it.”

He anticipated it, of course. After his worry subsided, Phil was not particularly happy to learn that he provoked a dangerous god on purpose. He doesn’t blame him for that, but being chided like a child rankled. Still rankles.

(he doesn’t blame him, though, truly, because it is easy for some part of him at least to look at it through Phil’s eyes, and it must have terrified him, finding him slumped against the portal like that, eyes hazy and words slurring, some sliver of the infinite still hanging about him like a shroud)

“I’m not Phil,” Tommy says, seeming offended by the very prospect. “I’m not—you just scared me, Wil. And you’re still acting all out of it.” His eyes drift upward, landing around the vicinity of his forehead, and Wilbur knows he’s staring at his hair again. It makes him want to pull his beanie forward to hide it, but that would draw a different kind of attention, a different kind of concern.

(he looked in the mirror this morning. almost a third of his hair, it seems, has been bleached white, in streaks that stand out starkly against the brown. he wouldn’t mind it so much if people would stop looking at it, would stop looking at him like he’s some sort of zoo animal)

“I don’t know if you noticed, but I had kind of an eventful night last night,” he says. “I’m just tired, is all.”

Tommy’s face darkens, and he glances away. “I wish you wouldn’t do that,” he mutters.

“Do what?”

“That,” Tommy says, gesturing. “It’s—it’s deflection, is what it is. Puffy told me so. It’s called an avoidance tactic.” He sounds out the syllables one by one, obviously repeating something he heard. “I thought you said you weren’t going to hide shit anymore. You said.”

“I—” He breaks off, sighing. “I know. Tommy, I’m sorry. I just feel like focusing on the current problem is what we need to be doing right now. And then later we deal with all of my shit. Can’t do that if we’ve all been sacrificed to an egg cult. But I really am just tired, Tommy. Nothing more than that.”

“I feel like last time we tried to focus on the current problem and ignore all of yours, it didn’t go so well,” Tommy says, and there’s no real heat to his words, but Wilbur stops in his tracks. He’s not sure why it hits him so hard, in this moment of all moments, but it does. Perhaps his ability to emotionally distance was damaged last night, somewhere between having a god in his head and staring into the void once again. He feels raw, in a way. An exposed wire.

“Oh,” he says.

(dark walls dark walls and dark paths and no railings and he didn’t place the buttons but he may as well have for all that they were projections of him)

Tommy takes several more steps before realizing that he’s not beside him anymore, and he stops, too, turning. “Oh,” he echoes, eyes widening. “Wait, no, that wasn’t—I wasn’t trying to—shit, Wilbur, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to just bring it up like that.”

“You shouldn’t be apologizing,” he manages. “You have every right to bring it up. You’re the one who got hurt.”

(you hurt him even though you didn’t mean to, lashed out because some part of you was crying out for help and this was the only way you knew how to ask for it, so convinced were you that you deserved nothing, nothing at all, deserved to be consigned to the dark, and you didn’t mean to but you hurt him all the same)

“Nothing can hurt me,” Tommy says, probably an automatic response, but Wilbur shoots him a look, and he trails off. This doesn’t seem like the time or place to be having a conversation like this, not with the snap-pop of lava beneath and all around them and the wail of mobs in the distance, but if they’re going to have it, then let them have it. “Alright, yeah. I guess.” His eyes skitter off him for a moment, drifting to one of the closer lava pools, and then back again. “But you were hurt too, Wil.”

“That’s not an excuse,” he says.

“No, but it’s—it’s a reason, y’know? It’s an explanation. And it’s not—it’s not an excuse, I’m not trying to say it’s an excuse, but it’s still important. And I—I’ve forgiven you, really, for all of it. So this isn’t—I just don’t want things to end the same. And I’m a, a little bit freaked out lately, Wilbur, if you couldn’t tell, because this all just seems like history repeating itself. We were supposed to be done with shit like this, and then you came back and I thought to myself, here it is, here’s our second chance. But now we’re fighting Dream again, and the whole server might be taken over by now, and it’s us against the bastards in charge but that didn’t end well last time, Wilbur!”

“It’ll be different,” he offers, and his voice falls flat.

“You can’t know that,” Tommy says. “There’s no way for you to—Prime, Wilbur, I just wanted everything to stay the same.” He buries his face in his hands. “You, me, and Tubbo. Back the way we used to be. None of this shit. But Dream’s out again and Phil and Techno are here, and you know, I never wanted to see them again. Did you know that? I wanted them to stay just, just so fucking far away. But then Techno did that, in the Egg room, and Phil’s wings are all fucked, and—and I didn’t want to think they cared, Wil, I didn’t, but now they do, and it’s all messy and complicated, and I hate it, I hate it so much, and I don’t understand why I can’t ever have anything good—”

It’s nice to hear that Tommy is, perhaps, inching toward forgiving Phil and Techno. Wilbur would rather like to have a family at the end of this, even if they can never be what they once were. But the rest of that speech is what takes up his attention, and he strides forward, reaching out and gripping Tommy’s elbows.

“Hey,” he says, insistently, “no, no, that’s all wrong. You get to have good things. You haven’t had nearly as many good things as you deserve, and that’s at least partially my fault, but once this is all over, you’re going to have so many good things, you won’t know what to do with them all. But you deserve good things and you can have them, I swear, because you’re so good, Tommy, do you hear me? You’re so good. And I will make fucking sure that you get those good things if it’s the last thing I do.”

Tommy lowers his hands. His face is not tear-stained, as Wilbur half-expected, but his eyes have grown irritated, and they glimmer in the red-orange light.

“But you’re one of the good things,” he chokes out, “and you don’t even fucking want to be here. You want to leave again.”

His heart twists in on itself.

“Oh,” he says, much weaker, this time. “Tommy, I—”

What can he say to that? He’s promised himself not to lie anymore. Not to him. But he can’t give him any comfort, not regarding this, because while he feels steadier than he did at the start, more resigned to this new life he’s been

(pulled into by a god at the request of the universe)

granted, more determined to stay if only for Tommy’s sake, but that’s the thing. It is for Tommy’s sake. For the sake of all the other people who somehow seem to want him around. It is not for his own.

(he forgot how to live for his own sake a long, long time ago, and though he can at least recognize as much now, recognition does not lead him to a solution, a solution he’s not even sure he wants)

“I’m sorry,” he finishes, because it’s all he has to give, inadequate though it is, and he takes Tommy’s hands. “I’m not leaving. Not on purpose. I swear that to you. I’m not leaving.”

“You—what are you doing?” Tommy asks, and he blinks. Tommy blinks back, his face scrunching up, and he lifts their joined hands. Both of them are now stained with blue. Which—what?

Oh. Did he—he did, didn’t he? Opened up his inventory, pulled out the blue dye from days ago? Pressed it into Tommy’s hands on instinct, some drive insisting that it would help, that it would be better than nothing at all, that even if it was nothing but dye it would at least show that he cared, that he was trying?

He must have. He did. He remembers doing it now. He didn’t even think about it, moved on some natural impulse.

“I don’t know,” he says.

(calm yourself, have some blue)

“This is Ghostbur’s thing,” Tommy says.

“I’m not Ghostbur.”

(for his heart beats in his chest beats out alive alive alive in a way that Ghostbur’s never could, though his blood stained his sweater, and yet he has Ghostbur’s memories and if he is not Ghostbur, shares nothing with the shade, then what was the ghost, in the end, and where did he come from, if he was not)

“But Ghostbur was part of you, wasn’t he?” Tommy says, and he sounds just a bit calmer, now, so maybe the blue has helped. Even though it’s just dye. “Even if he wasn’t you you. So he’s still part of you, isn’t he?”

“I—” His heart is thundering. He doesn’t know why. “I haven’t been thinking about it. Not like that.”

(he has to keep Ghostbur separate from him has to consider him separate because the ghost was not him the ghost in all his smiles and useless platitudes and all-encompassing desire to help was not him his endless love was not him because the ghost was useless to the last but he was good and kind and he has never believed that he is any of those things so the ghost must be separate must have come from him but been separate been something else in the end and there must be nothing but faded memories to connect them)

(but you know better than that, deep down, know better than to truly believe that your kindness exists as a different entity from the rest of you because you are capable of so much if you only allow yourself if you are only given the space to grow and to be if someone stops you from taking the world on your shoulders and the ghost was the you that broke was a you that rejected the responsibility was a you that crumbled and he was what remained but he was you he was you he was you but less and you are him but more)

(and perhaps one day you will learn to accept yourself better)

“Maybe you should,” Tommy says, and glances away. “Ghostbur tried. And he was my brother too. You’re my brother. No matter what, that hasn’t changed. Even if you’re a prick.”

Tears spring to his eyes, surprising him, and he blinks them back.

“Right,” he says. “Right, I—yeah. Okay. But Tommy, Tommy, listen to me, alright? I swear to you” —He squeezes Tommy’s hands, and watches as the blue dye runs between them. Their fingers will be stained for hours, and he finds that he doesn’t mind at all— “I will do everything in my power to make sure that good things come again. You say it’s all messy and complicated, and that’s true. I know that’s true. But we’re going to have time to figure it all out. We’re going to have time. And I’m including myself in that. I know I’m not—I’m not always the most trustworthy, I know that. But I promise, I mean this. Staying is—it’s worth it if it’s for you, alright?”

Something passes across Tommy’s face, too quick and too complicated to read. But he presses on, bringing Tommy’s hands up to his chest and keeping them there.

“We are not powerless,” he states. “History doesn’t make us, we make history. And if history is repeating itself, we don’t let it. We won’t let it. You deserve good things, Tommyinnit, and you’re going to get them.”

“If you say so, Wil,” Tommy says, and he still seems a bit discomfited, but also a bit steadier, now. A bit more secure.

“I do say so,” he says. “I’ll say it again if you need me to.”

“Please don’t,” Tommy says. “You’ve—see, look at what you’ve done, now my hands are all blue and sticky. You’ve given me sticky fingers, Wil.”

Tommy has chosen to end the moment, it seems. He’s not sure whether they’ve managed to say what needed to be said or not.

“Don’t say that to me,” he says. He squeezes Tommy’s hands one last time, and then lets go. “That makes me sound terrible.”

“Well, maybe you are,” Tommy shoots back, with a smirk that takes away any potential sting. “Live with it, bastard.” A pause, and then: “Did those arseholes even bother to wait for us? Dickheads, the lot of them. C’mon, they’ll start bitching about it if we fall too far behind.”

And then, Tommy grabs his hand himself, of his own volition, and starts to pull Wilbur along the path, cobblestone and meandering and precarious, and Wilbur’s chest feels hot, full of pressure. But it’s not quite a bad thing. Not a bad thing at all, in fact.

(he was always so cold in that ravine, no matter how he gathered his coat around him, shoved his hands in his pockets, and he watched everyone else and felt colder still, froze in the face of their flickering warmth with each other, and he turned away because he knew the warmth was not for him, that soon there would be no warmth at all)

(and the fire gave him heat but no warmth, his desired ending but no absolution)

(something you will keep to yourself: you were warm at the end, as your blood stained your father’s hands, as your vision dimmed and he held you close, so very warm at last, but it would hurt him to know that to hear from your mouth the relief you felt so you must not must not say)

The others have indeed had the decency to wait for them not too far ahead, and he nods in response to Phil’s raised eyebrow. Everything’s fine, he means to say, and Phil nods back and says nothing else about it, which he appreciates, for Tommy’s sake just as much as his. The portal isn’t far from there, and it’s not long before he’s stepping into the purple glow, closing his eyes at the dizzying upheaval of his surroundings.

The rain hits his face immediately. Thunder rolls, and wind buffets his jacket. It is a welcome change from the stifling heat of the nether, but he has to squint against the downpour, everyone else’s figures suddenly becoming shadowy, indistinct. The sky itself is dark and angry, black clouds churning, and it’s almost as if it were still night rather than early morning.

He takes another step out of the portal and almost trips. Looking down, he can’t stop his sudden inhalation. The color is dull, washed out in the lack of sunlight,

(though his mind is eager to fill in the gaps eager to show him)

but he doesn’t need the color to recognize the vine by his foot, nor any of the vines that crawl across the stone.

“Oh, fuck,” Phil says.

“We’ve been gone for a day,” Tommy says, disbelieving. “It wasn’t like this yesterday, was it?”

He cannot believe that leaving was a mistake, not with what it led to, even if the original plan was foolhardy. He does not regret the opportunity to petition a god, to make himself heard, even if it results in nothing in the end. But staring out over the landscape, the Prime Path ahead of them is choked with the things, and though the community house is little more than a vague structure in the rainy haze, it almost appears as if it’s grown hair, or tentacles, or something of that kind, so covered over with the foliage as it is.

“They’re all okay, right?” Ranboo says, his voice nearly a whisper. “They all have to be okay.”

Eret’s castle is visible from here, but just barely. He can’t tell if the vines have taken it over as well, but there’s only one way to find out.

“I think we craft some boats, cross the lake rather than going by the Prime Path,” he says. “Unless you’d like to chop your way through, but—” He glances at the ground. The vines are motionless, but he doesn’t trust that not to change.

“I have to say,” Techno says, “bein’ strangled by Egg tentacles? Not my idea of a good time.” There’s nothing on his face except his typical disgruntlement, or at least, nothing that Wilbur can see. The wind whips his hair in and out of his face, the long pink strands obscuring his expression. But there is an edge to his voice, barely discernible. It wouldn’t be, to anyone who didn’t know him well. “If boats’ll let us avoid the things, my vote’s for boats.”

Ranboo snorts, and then wilts when eyes turn to him. “It rhymed,” he offers weakly, and Tommy groans.

“Can we give Ranboo to the Egg?” he asks, and Wilbur

(doesn’t like that, not at all, even though he knows that Tommy is joking, though he knows that Tommy does not hear the Egg for some unknown, blessed reason and he’s not looking that gift horse in the mouth, but that means that Tommy doesn’t really get that it’s not a thing to make jokes about, giving someone to the Egg, to the creep and crawl of something alien and void scraping out your mind and making it something that is you but not, you but slightly tilted, diagonal, something that fits the Egg’s wants more than your own even if you don’t realize it, and he doesn’t have the energy to berate him for the quip but he really wishes he wouldn’t suggest it, even in jest, even though he knows that Tommy copes through jokes and they’re all just struggling to make it through this, really)

shakes his head. Phil’s moved closer to the stairs, so he goes to join him, picking his way through the vines as best he can, and in his peripheral vision, he sees Techno and Ranboo follow.

“Someone’s had the same idea,” Phil says, inclining his head to the nearest bit of shoreline. There is a figure clearly visible there, though they are too distant and hidden by the gloom to make out features. They’re pulling a boat ashore, and then they turn in their direction and raise a hand, making a come-hither gesture.

Lightning flashes, and thunder follows shortly thereafter. The brief instant of light is enough to illuminate Eret’s features, the curl of his hair and his ever present crown.

“Are they on our side?” Techno asks, and—did anyone remember to fill Techno in? He certainly didn’t, and he doesn’t particularly want to right now. Even just watching the monarch puts a sour taste in his mouth.

(and some of the vitriol he directs at himself, because he is cognizant of his own hypocrisy)

“Presumably,” he mutters, but Tommy’s already making his way down, waving his hands around and shouting like a bloody moron, because of course he is, because of course Tommy’s not concerned with who might hear him.

(and that, at least, has not changed, and it is a good thing that Tommy still has it in him to challenge the world, to make his presence known, because that is part of what makes Tommy himself and he does not deserve to lose that, even when it is unwise, even when it can make everything else so much more difficult)

Which is not great, because not seeing anyone else around doesn’t mean that no one is there, so the only choice from there is to go after him and make sure he doesn’t get ambushed.

“I’m glad to see you all in one piece,” Eret says, as soon as they all come within hearing range. “You as well, Technoblade.”

Techno doesn’t dignify that with a response, but Eret continues, apparently unbothered.

“We saw the activity from the portal,” he says. “I thought I’d come to escort you all. You might have noticed, but the Prime Path is not currently particularly traversable.” He smiles wryly. “You’ll be please to know that the castle grounds, however, are currently free of unwanted flora, and aside from spreading these eyesores all over the place, the Egg and its cohorts have been quiet. If we’re quick about it, I don’t see us having much issue, and to that end” —He flicks his fingers, and two more spruce boats land in the water, summoned from his inventory— “I brought these. If you’d like, we can be on our way. Might be a bit bumpy because of the storm, but it’s perfectly passable.”

“Oh, we would like,” Tommy says, clambering in without hesitation. “We would like very much. C’mon, Ranboob, in.” He tugs on Ranboo’s hand, and Ranboo all but topples into the boat beside him. Phil and Techno claim the next one, and he—

He’s going to have to ride with Eret. Brilliant.

He sighs, stepping in and settling on one of the two seats. Eret barely casts him a glance before he gets to rowing, and then they’re off, gliding across choppy water. Wilbur stares into it, watches the ripples of the raindrops as they impact the surface, studies the patterns they make rather than looking at Eret himself. But even the noise of the wind and the thunder overhead cannot disguise the note of anticipation in the atmosphere.

“I really am glad you’re back, Wilbur,” Eret says. His voice is low, carries just enough to reach him, but the noise of the rain will prevent it from drifting to the other boats. “I’d been hoping for a chance to speak to you again for—quite some time now, actually.”

He shifts, and idly wonders how many conversations like this he’s going to have to have today. He’s already worn out from speaking to Tommy in the way that he did, though at least with Eret, he doesn’t feel the need to guard his tone nearly as much.

“You were involved in trying to resurrect me a while ago,” he says. Neutral, probing. “I remember that much.”

“You—so you do have Ghostbur’s memories,” Eret says.

“Some,” he replies. “Most, I’d say. What he bothered to remember, at least. He was never very good at figuring out people’s motivations, though. Very trusting, he was. Naive. Was it guilt that drove you to help? I can’t picture what you think you would have gotten out of it otherwise.”

It’s difficult to see Eret’s expression; the weather and his glasses unite to mask the minutiae of his face.

“I suppose it was, in the end,” he says, soft and slow. “I carry a lot of regrets with me. I’m sure that’s something you know a lot about. Regrets.” He stiffens, but Eret shakes his head. “I don’t mean that as an attack. Just a statement. I doubt you could find anyone on this server who hasn’t done something they wish they could take back. But for me, betraying L’Manberg, betraying you—that’s my regret. I’ve been aimless since then.” Lightning flashes again; he’s smiling, but Wilbur knows a joyless smile when he sees one. “A throne with no power, a crown that means nothing—none of that was worth betraying my friends. I know that now. So I’ve sought redemption, tried to make amends, and I’ve tried to change. I would like to think that I have. But the one person I needed to make it up to the most wasn’t here anymore. So I suppose you could say that it was guilt, that it was selfish of me. But I wanted to be able to atone to you. That’s all there was to it, really.”

He digests that for a moment. He isn’t sure how to feel about it.

(because on one hand his heart sings traitor, sings you killed us all killed me killed my brothers killed my son, but can he say that the betrayal was worse than his? can he deny Eret his redemption when he is struggling for atonement himself, forgiveness that he is certain he does not and never will deserve?)

(he’s thought through all of this before, gone round in circles again and again, and it might be time to make a decision)

“And what would you do if I didn’t accept your atonement?” he asks. He dips a hand in the water. When he lifts it out again, it is still stained blue.

“I would keep on,” Eret answers. “I think that’s all I could do. If you never forgive me, that’s more than understandable on your end. I hardly have the right to force the issue. But I’m completely sincere when I tell you that I want to be better. I’m trying to be better. And I don’t really know whether I’ve done a good job of that lately or not. I’ve been rather absent, truth be told. But I don’t plan on stopping my efforts.”

He frowns.

“That’s fair,” he says, “though I feel like you should know that I’m hardly the type of man who can go around giving other people absolution.”

“It’s not really absolution that I’m looking for,” Eret says. “More of a chance to try again.”

He has no answer to that. And no time to give one even if he had it, because the boat runs aground, the castle looming over them all, and true to Eret’s word, the walls themselves show no signs of encroachment, though the land surrounding it almost looks like a great red rug for all that the grass itself is barely visible.

“Tubbo managed to ward the castle,” Eret says, addressing all of them. “I’m still not entirely sure how. This isn’t a kind of magic that’s familiar to me. But whatever he did, it worked, and then when Fundy got here he backed him up. He did a really good job, actually.”

“Of course he did,” Tommy says. “He’s Tubbo.”

But Wilbur’s stuck on the other thing. Said so offhandedly.

The thought has crossed his mind, of course, that he has not yet seen his son. Has not yet so much as spoken to him. But it is one thing to know it in the abstract and quite another to be confronted with it suddenly. Fundy is in the castle, is mere feet away, and he is exhausted and entirely unprepared for this.

(and what a selfish thought that is, that he is unprepared to meet with his own child, unprepared to do the bare minimum, to tell him of his return, to apologize for hanging him out to dry, how selfish it is that his child has fallen so low on his list of priorities, how selfish, how selfish, and he does not know whether he has the strength to admit it out loud)

(he is certain that he owes Fundy an apology, just as he owes so many people apologies, and yet he remembers his son burning down the flag, burning down all he held dear, carrying out Schlatt’s every order to its full extent in a way that even Tubbo did not, and Fundy claimed that he was a spy all along, that he never truly turned against him, but by that time the damage had already been done and how was he supposed to believe when he already felt so alone, already felt like the world had turned against him and his legacy was ruined so all there was left to do was send it and himself to hell)

“Can we go in?” he asks. “We’re soaked. Unless there’s a point to hanging around here. And also—have you not set anyone to stand watch?”

There’s no one visible on the walls above them, and gates only do so much to keep out an invading force.

“The enchantments keep them out,” Eret answers, and places a hand against the gates. The wood shimmers slightly, the effect just barely perceptible, and looks almost as if the gate itself is rippling, distorted, like viewing it through a fun house mirror. “Or rather, as near as we can tell, the enchantments prevent the Egg from gaining a foothold in here. Which means if it wants to continue to communicate with its people, its people have to stay out.” With that, he pushes the gates, and they swing open with a horrendous creak.

“That would hardly stop Dream,” he remarks, and Eret inclines his head, conceding the point.

“True,” he says, “but to be fair, I’m not sure that gates would do much good to that end, either, whether we’re watching them or not. Better to be as well rested as we possibly can be.”

He remembers Dream’s appearance last night, his appearance and swift disappearance, and says nothing. Eret is right, of course; the highest walls and toughest gates and sharpest watchers all mean nothing in the face of someone who can go anywhere he pleases with a thought.

“You hear that, Wil?” Phil says, just a little too loudly. “Rest. Rest is important.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” he mutters, and at the same time, Ranboo starts asking about whether these enchantments can be applied to people as well, and he lends half an ear to that conversation, because that would be very useful. Eret tells him that Tubbo’s been experimenting, but even getting the wards up around the castle was a trial, so he’s not sure when they’ll be able to do much else, or whether any other breakthroughs will be in time to be useful, even with Fundy now helping, and—

There it is again.

(he should have done this sooner, should have done this before hesitance turned to outright avoidance, and for all Phil’s faults as a parent at least he has reason for what he’s done, reason and a willingness to face them now, and that is something that he evidently lacks, and his heart is caged by his own cowardice, and he doesn’t know what to expect from this and he hates not knowing what to expect, how to plan for it)

(there is no plan in the world that will help him right now)

Eret leads them into the castle, and it is warm and well lit, but it does nothing to assuage the chill settling in his bones.

“Most everyone’s down the hall there,” Eret says, pointing, “and I think I’ve got towels somewhere if you want to dry off—”

“Forget about towels,” Tommy interrupts, “where’s Tubbo?”

“He’s set himself up on the second floor,” Eret says. “If you want, I can—”

Predictably, Tommy’s already off, his feet slapping against the floor with wet squelches.

“I think the rest of us will take you up on the towels,” Phil says. “Particularly Ranboo, you still good there?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Ranboo says. “Um, my armor protects me pretty well, so I’m good. But um, yeah, towels might still be a good idea.”

“Great. If you’ll follow me, then—”

He can put this off no longer. He grabs Eret’s arm, cutting him off.

“Is Fundy with Tubbo?” he asks.

For a moment, Eret is silent. He doesn’t particularly like the expression he’s making, somewhere between realization and pity. He does not need pity, doesn’t know what to do with it, and he especially doesn’t want it from Eret, of all people. Everyone else is silent, still, and he can feel their gazes on him like spotlights.

“Last I knew, yes,” Eret says.

“Does he know?”

He wonders if he should elaborate, but Eret doesn’t seem to need him to.

“He does. It, ah, wasn’t exactly broken to him in the softest way. Nobody was actually aware that the news needed to be broken at all, so I believe Puffy brought it up somewhere along the way here. I’m—not sure of the details.”

He doesn’t know whether that means Eret actually doesn’t know the details,

(doesn’t know how his son reacted to the return of his father, whether there was any happiness at all or just shock, perhaps betrayal, perhaps anger, perhaps perhaps perhaps he could have avoided this if he’d taken a little more responsibility from the start but now here he is and here they are)

or whether he’s sparing him them. He doesn’t know which he would prefer. If it matters.

“Alright,” he says, even if it’s the furthest thing from it. “I’ll be up there, then. Don’t wait for me.”

He doesn’t wait for a response before he’s turning on his heel and following after Tommy, even though it would have been wiser to ask for the specific room. He’s not feeling very wise at the moment. If he ever was wise. He doesn’t think he can say that he’s ever had a claim to wisdom. He thought that he was wise when he was running his own country, and look where that got him. Him, and everyone else.

He climbs up the stairs. Keeps his back straight. His head held high.

(it is habit to draw on the general’s role for strength since that was when he was strongest but is that not what caused so many of the problems in the first place? the general leads, wins, considers people in terms of numbers rather than names, and personal relationships fall to the wayside)

It’s the same room that he found Tommy and Tubbo talking in yesterday. The same room where he lingered outside the door rather than moving on, absorbing words that were not meant for his ears, old hurts that have their roots in him and his actions, that he is not sure he will ever be able to heal, to make up for. For a moment, he allows himself to do the same thing, stands just outside and listens to their voices. They’re easier to hear; the door hangs open rather than closed, likely from Tommy’s entry. Their voices overlap, Tommy talking over Tubbo and then vice versa as they both try to explain what’s happened in their day of separation, and Fundy—

Fundy is there, too, chiming in every now and again. He sounds—Wilbur isn’t sure how he sounds. Pleased to be talking to the other two, perhaps. Beyond that, he doesn’t know.

He doesn’t know.

(it’s a question you must ask yourself, whether you know your son at all, because you remember all too clearly cradling him in your arms and holding him close and vowing to protect him to see him safe no matter the cost but he grew older as children do and the cost was too steep too steep to pay for you looked at him and saw a child still for though he grew up too quickly he did grow up and your heart was too weak to accept it so is there any wonder that he came to resent you came to chafe under the watch of a man who could not see him for who he was and who he tried so hard to be)

(is there any wonder that he would go to such lengths to escape your shadow)

He steps forward. That’s all it takes, to be standing in the doorway. And there he stays, arrested by the sight in front of him.

The room is intended to be a guest bedroom, clearly. There is a large, plush bed, several items of furniture: a dresser, a nightstand, a desk and several chairs, bookshelves along one wall. But the desk goes unused; books and papers are scattered across the floor, apparently without order or reason to the arrangement. Tommy has situated himself on the bed, still dripping with rainwater, bouncing up and down and wildly gesticulating as he talks—he’s saying something about the god, now, and how it’s such a shame that he didn’t get to talk to it, because he would’ve gotten them to help in no time at all—and Tubbo is talking at the same time, whenever he can get words in, shoving old papers in Tommy’s face and explaining what they mean, as if Tommy will understand any of it. Fundy brought these materials with him, evidently, brought all the dreamon-hunting things that remained in his possession according to the rapid-fire words out of Tubbo’s mouth, and Fundy is there. He’s there. Sitting on the floor, three books open in front of him, watching Tommy and Tubbo with rapt attention, jumping in whenever Tubbo needs help explaining something, and asking Tommy questions in the same breath.

He stands there. Watching. They all seem so comfortable with each other. It feels wrong to disturb that.

But—

“—and his hair’s gone all weird now,” Tommy is saying, and he winces. “I’ll bet he’s not telling us everything that happened. Hair doesn’t just do that. It looks so fucking weird, but not like, bad weird, you know? I guess that’s what you get for shouting at god, am I right, fellas? Though if I were to shout at god, god simply would not be able to do anything to me, as I am too cool and powerful.”

“That—why does that sound like something he would do? Yelling at a god. Of course he did, that—” Fundy mutters, and Wilbur has no hope of interpreting his tone. “But he’s, like—he’s okay? And he’s here?”

“Yeah, he’s—” And Tommy happens to glance at the door. They lock eyes. “Um. Here. Hi, Wilbur.”

Tubbo turns to look. Fundy does as well, raising his head sharply and visibly flinching in the same motion, and Wilbur thinks that his heart flinches, too. If hearts can flinch. They can certainly stutter. Perhaps that’s close enough.

“Hello,” he says. Inadequate. Completely inadequate.

“Oh, you’re right,” Tubbo says after a second. “It does kind of look weird, but not bad weird. Just sort of interesting. Neat. Hi, Wilbur, did you have a good time yelling at god?”

Tubbo has a unique kind of frankness. It’s refreshing, and he appreciates the effort to alleviate the tension. If that’s even what he’s doing.

“I don’t know if good is the word I’d use,” he says. “It happened. It was a thing. Have you had a good time doing magic? If that’s the term?”

As he speaks, Fundy rises to his feet. Slow, cautious.

“Yeah, that’s the word,” Tubbo says. “It’s been going really well, actually. I wasn’t sure if I’d remember how to do any of this stuff, but Fundy brought all of the books with him when Puffy brought him over, so that’s been really helpful. There’s still nothing in here about killing the thing, but we’ve kept looking. There’s probably plenty of other useful stuff. Actually, that reminds me.” He turns back to Tommy. “I wanted to show you how we protected the whole castle. You probably saw some of the enchantments on your way in, but it’s really cool, come on.” He tugs on Tommy’s hand, and Tommy allows himself to be led, and before Wilbur can react, they’re brushing past him on their way out of the room. “See you in a bit, Wilbur!”

He glances after them, and then back into the room. The room where Fundy now stands, alone.

Tubbo definitely knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Hi, Fundy,” he says.

“Hey, Wil,” Fundy answers.

He looks older than Wilbur remembers, even through Ghostbur’s relatively new perception. But then, Ghostbur would not have noticed the new lines carved into his face, the bags beneath his eyes, his fidgeting, closed-off demeanor. He’s shifted into a more human form for the moment, though fox ears stick out from underneath his hat; that, at least, has not changed. He is capable of appearing fully human, but he scarcely ever does. Wilbur always thought that it was a way of staying connected to a mother that he barely got to know.

But perhaps that’s not it at all. Perhaps he shouldn’t presume anything.

“So,” Fundy says, after a long stretch of silence. “You’re, um. You’re back.”

“I’m back,” he agrees.

(the awkwardness is like a rock settled in his throat and it shouldn’t be this way shouldn’t be this way at all but they’re in too deep and it’s all gone too far and some of the last words he spoke to his son were to disown him and he still doesn’t know whether he truly meant it or not in that moment but that hardly matters when the words were said regardless of the intent)

“Right,” Fundy says. “Right. And you’ve been back for a while. Tubbo said it’d been a couple of weeks.”

Is that right? He thinks back, calculating, and decides it must be.

“I suppose it has been,” he says, and that is his cue to follow up with an apology, but the words get caught in a vice, squeezed and choked to nothingness, and silence falls between them again. Fundy shifts his weight back and forth between his feet, his eyes darting to and fro, never landing on his face for very long.

“Okay,” he says at length. “I guess—I don’t really know what else I expected.”

It’s bitter and sarcastic and resigned all at once. He winces.

“Fundy—”

“I mean, I guess I knew,” Fundy continues. “I knew that I wouldn’t—that you wouldn’t come for me if you ever came back. So it’s—I mean, it’s fine, Wil. I don’t even need you, anyway. I’ve been doing really well on my own. So it doesn’t matter.”

“That’s not—”

“But it is, though, isn’t it? You could’ve—you could’ve come and found me, right? I wasn’t that far.” His voice has lowered in volume, as if he’s talking to himself more than he is to him. “I wasn’t that far, so you could’ve—but you didn’t, and that’s kind of par the course, isn’t it? For you to come back to—back to life, and not even send me a message. But I guess nobody else did, either. It’s fine.”

The vice releases, torn apart by his mounting desperation.

(too little, too late)

“I’m sorry, Fundy,” he says. “I should’ve told you sooner.”

“Okay then, why didn’t you?” Fundy replies, and his tone rises in pitch again, becoming high, almost frantic.

There are so many ways he could reply. He could say that it slipped his mind. That would be damaging, hurtful, would ruin any hope of fixing their relationship, but it would be at least partially the truth; he thought about it, but infrequently, and he always dismissed it as a task to be tackled later. He could say that he wanted to take it slow. That would be slightly more of a lie, though not a complete falsehood; interacting with the other people of the server, especially in the first few days, has come far less easily to him than it once did. It probably says something that he includes his own son in that assessment.

He could say that he’s a coward. That, perhaps, would be the most truthful of all.

(for in many things you are not the coward that you think you are but in this in this it is true is apt because you know you hurt him sorely did the one thing that a parent should never do to a child caused him so much pain and you knew it and you know it and you could not face him could not bring yourself to own up to it and that is cowardice to not face this fault of yours as you have faced the others that is cowardice and cowardice can be overcome and it is not the end is not a death blow but call it what it is for it is cowardice and if you are to make up for it you must face the flaw in yourself without the gilded lies)

“I wanted you to come back,” Fundy says, and he realizes he’s taken far too long to respond, and Fundy’s expression has fallen. “I wanted you back so damn badly, even if I was never really sure why. I guess maybe I hoped that if you came back you’d start to care about me again.”

“I do care about you,” he manages, his voice a weak, pathetic thing. “I do care, Fundy.”

(and he wants to say my little champion my little champion if you believe nothing else then believe this believe that I love you and I always have even in the midst of all my darkness even as I fell I could not despise you no matter what I said I have loved you always even though I failed you I love you please do not doubt)

(he doesn’t say it)

“I want to believe you,” Fundy says. “But see, the thing is, if I do, it’ll turn out that you’re lying to me. Either that, or you’ll change. You—that’s what you do. And I need you—I need you to make up your mind, whether you care about me or not, because I can’t keep doing this. And I’m so—I’m pissed, Wilbur, really, I am. You blew up my home.”

There is no excuse that will provide an escape from this.

“I did.”

(an ending a denouement a grand finale and it was your symphony forever unfinished but you forgot that others made up the orchestra and you forget it still though you are reminded sometimes in the shadows in Tommy’s eyes and the chips in Tubbo’s horns and now in the tremor in your son’s voice as he tells you what you took from him what you stole when you made an ending of it all and it was yours but it was not yours alone)

Fundy jerks back, as if he hadn’t expected him to say it so starkly.

“Just like that, huh?” he says.

“I—”

“You know what?” Fundy says, overriding him. “I don’t really want to hear it right now. I’m so done with this. I’ll see you later. I guess.”

He steps forward, and

(an image: Fundy tottering toward him on chubby, unsteady legs, toddler’s face in a wide open, gap-toothed smile, Fundy running toward him to show him his new redstone invention, child’s face beaming in pride, Fundy sprinting toward him and trailing a flag behind him, grinning and victorious, and they have done it, they have done it, the nation is theirs and all will be well, and his son will be safe, and he wraps Fundy up in his arms and hugs him, holds him safe and close, his child, his beloved child)

he is frozen as Fundy steps past him and out of the doors. And he is frozen as he listens to his footsteps retreat, at a walking pace at first and then quicker and quicker as they fade, as Fundy runs from him. He stares into an empty room, and he is

(cold)

frozen.

“So, I’m guessing that didn’t go so well.”

It’s what he needs. An out, a way to cover over the churning mess of emotions in his chest, a road past all of that and right into exasperation, irritation.

“Shut the fuck up, Schlatt,” he says, pulling together all the shreds of composure that remain to him. “Where have you been?”

“Around,” Schlatt says, and drifts into view. He has the ability to go straight through him, but Wilbur notes that he doesn’t, that he dodges around him in the space left open in the doorway to come in front of him, surveying the papers in the room apathetically. “I keep going to do stuff and forgetting that I fucking can’t. Came here after whatever the fuck that was last night. You wanna give me an explanation there? I’m not pining away so much that I’m hallucinating your face, gorgeous as it is.” He pauses. “Your hair looks fucking stupid, by the way. It’s also wet, in case you didn’t know that.”

He feels some of the tension drain from him. This, at least, is familiar ground. Barbed words and sarcastic compliments, their old song and dance. He can exist in this space for a few minutes. Wrestle his emotions back under control.

“Thanks,” he says dryly. “If you really want to know, I spoke to a god and got shown some of the secrets of the universe, so that’s probably what that was.”

Schlatt pauses. “Is that all,” he says, in a half-laughing, half-incredulous tone that indicates he has no idea what to do with that.

He tilts his head, and wonders what else he should tell him. Because he saw him, there, of that he is sure, saw him while he was caught between the starlight and the void, as the god wound him back up and returned him to his body. He saw Schlatt, and more than that, he saw

(or felt, perhaps, because he was without eyes, and felt is not the right word either but it is closer, closer)

the connection between them, binding them together like a cat’s cradle, the threads of their existence tangled up in each other, and he is certain, now, of why Schlatt is here as well, why Schlatt is here but not solid. Because the god reached and the god grabbed and the god pulled, and the god pulled more than they meant to but less than they ought to have done, and this is the result: one man resurrected and the second tugged along, unintentionally and thus set adrift, tied to the first but with no form of his own.

Schlatt is mixed up in this through no fault of his own,

(for once)

when Wilbur knows that he, like him, would rather have remained in the void. So he sighs, and reaches along the tether, reaches along the rope that connects them soul to soul, and it is easy to find now, easy to touch upon with intention now that he knows what it is, why it is there.

(now that the universe hums in the back of his mind, now that he can hear the stars’ song, just barely beyond his conscious perception)

Schlatt lets out a surprised grunt as his feet hit the floor, and he staggers, almost losing his balance. Right away, Wilbur can feel the drain on his own energy, his lifeforce, perhaps, and now he knows the reason for that, too—Schlatt has none of his own, so to be made present and real, he must share his, must send it down the line, and a few days ago, he would have struggled to figure out how to do that. But now, it feels like the simplest thing in the world. For a time, at least.

“I’m willing to chat about it for a bit,” he says, and Schlatt stares at him, flexing his fingers.

“Holy shit,” he says. “So can you just—do this now?”

He bares his teeth. Schlatt will take it for a challenge.

“Let me tell you about it,” he says, and Schlatt arches a brow. But he stays, standing amongst the papers and the mess.

This is something familiar. This is a half hour of conversation that is charged in an entirely different way. This is someone with whom he shares a bitter past, and likely a bitter future, but he doesn’t have to watch himself, doesn’t have to wonder what wounds he’s caused him, doesn’t have to confront anything within himself.

He’s self-aware enough to realize that he’s running away, a bit, with this. Seeking a distraction. Trying to banish the look on Fundy’s face from his mind. But the others will survive without him for a few more minutes, and even besides, Schlatt offers him something that he wants, that he needs. Schlatt will listen to him, and he will judge him, but he will not pity him.

So Wilbur tells Schlatt about meeting a god.

#mcyt #dsmp #dream smp #dsmp fic #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #eret #fundy #tubbo #jschlatt #/rp #cat writes fic #long post #sorry for the two-week wait here's 9k works of dialogue *jazz hands*

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