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astarionancuntnin · 19 days

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Die For You (Chapter 2)

summary: following your encounter in that dark alley, you're faced with your old love. will you have the strength to stand up to him?

rating: T

word count: 2.5k

pairing: astarion x you (fem!reader)

cw: kidnapping, reader is shackled for a while, starvation (both imposed by captor and self-imposed), manipulation.

a/n: a shorter chapter and no funny business this time around cause we gotta focus on the development of their relationship while reader is in captivity. also! look out for the additional a/n at the end of the chapter! im undecided on where i want to take this so i want all of your opinions !!

EDIT: added a partial scene at the end of the chapter and modified some of the early dialogue to add foreshadowing

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I fell in love with someone

I don’t know

Anymore, anymore

Sometimes I wonder if you

Think of me

Anymore, anymore

You can't make much of what happened after he appeared. You were too shocked by the presence of your past lover to acknowledge whoever cast sleep on you, knocking you unconscious at your most vulnerable moment. Cowards. When you awaken, you’re shackled, hanging to a wall in a dark cell. You pull against the restraints to no avail; you were securely locked in.

Your struggling must’ve made too much noise, as not long afterwards, the door opens wide, revealing Astarion, alone. He was standing proud in lavish clothing, different from the ones you had seen him in at the party a few days ago, but just as proper. As much as these last few months had been awful to you, it seemed like they had been the best in his last 200 years of existence. He approaches you slowly, head held high and arms crossed in his back.

“How’s your head, my dear?”

Hearing his voice again for the first time in months triggers a wave of emotions within you. Hurt, hatred, longing… lust. You shake them away as best as you can before questioning him.

“Why did you bring me here, Astarion?”

“I simply wanted to talk,” he says, his tone annoyingly playful.

“Was the kidnapping and shackles really necessary?” You slightly pull against them again to make your point; you can barely move in this condition.

“Can you blame me? Seeing how you ignored me so easily all night, and the fury in which you provoked my servants, I doubted you were going to follow me here willingly.”

You close your eyes and sigh, dropping your head, discouraged.

“Plus,” he adds, “I couldn’t take the chance to have you run out on me. I let you go once, it’s not a mistake I’ll be doing again.”

“Really? Now, after all these months, you want me back?” You chuckle, somehow finding a way to laugh at the situation you’re in as you raise your head back to meet his gaze. “I notice that your inability to move on wasn’t part of the many things that changed after your ascension.”

He smiles back, amused by your wits. “I told you, I only changed for the best. Besides, I know you've been missing me just as much.”

“Oh please,” you roll your eyes, trying to conceal your reality. “You couldn’t be further from the truth.” “Am I? Were you not alone and miserable for all these months, flinging yourself at any stranger willing to spend the night with you? Or did my spawns lie to me?”

“Wait… How do you know that? Have you been spying on me?!” You exclaim in disbelief.

“Well, someone had to make sure you weren't off to get yourself killed in some stupid way.”

You scoff, offended at this image he had of you. “I can handle my own, thank you.”

“And yet, my servants had no problems cornering you in a dark alley.”

You open your mouth as you're about to answer back when you find yourself at a loss for words. He got you there, the prick. He notices your silence and sighs before commenting on your state.

“I’m sure you’re mad at me right now, and I wouldn’t blame you for it. But know that I’m doing this for your own good.”

“My own good? If you wanted to help me, you would disappear from my life, let me go and give me a chance to move on.” You feel like crying, and yet, the irony of the situation makes you laugh some more. “You have everything you’ve ever dreamed of and yet, you still couldn’t find someone new to replace me.” He laughs lightly. “I’ve only ever wanted you, my treasure. And now,” he walks towards you with a languid pace, his hand reaching for your chin, lifting it to meet his gaze, “You're finally where you belong, where you should have always been in the first place.”

You snap your head out of his grasp. “Shackled at your feet?” You spit out.

He forcefully brings back your gaze on him, his nails grazing your cheeks, making you hiss. “By my side.” He looks at your bared teeth, smiling. “You will make a deadly consort, that I'm sure of.” Your eyes widen as you understand the implication, and your voice rises as the fear starts to set in. “NEVER.”

He tilts your head aside and leans in the crook of your exposed neck, his breath hot against your skin. “You don't have to. I can just take what's rightfully mine,” he whispers and that last word sends a chill down your spine. You struggle in his grasp, trying to pull your neck away as you shout. “Don’t you DARE!”

He chuckles to himself. “Oh, don't you worry, I won’t bite unless you ask, very, very nicely.” He releases your face coldly but doesn’t move away from you. “But where are my manners? I almost forgot; I meant to invite you to eat.”

“I would rather starve,” you declare, leaning into that last word.

He sighs, seemingly growing tired of your attitude. “Fine, do as you wish,” he says, walking away from you.

He leaves and you’re left on your own for Gods know how long. You spend those first hours trying to free yourself still and eventually give up when you start to feel the bruises on your wrists. You drift in and out of consciousness, fatigue affecting you more with every hour that passes. Without any source of light, it’s nearly impossible for you to tell how much time had gone by since the night you were captured. But, judging by the growling of your stomach, at least a full day had gone by, maybe even two. Your arms and legs were starting to give out on you as well, when the door before you opened to a spawn you didn't recognize.

“Lord Ancunín invites you to dinner,” he says, composed.

“You can tell him to fuck off.” Your words don’t have the intended effect as they’re told with a shaky voice. In truth, you would kill for just a piece of bread right about now, but you would let yourself die before you complied to Astarion.

“I'm afraid that's not an option.”

Two more spawns appear behind him, and you instantly understand where this is going; this wasn't a request, it was an order. You're unshackled, although the spawns’ grips were so strong, you didn’t notice a difference, and were guided out of your cell. You reach an immense dining room, where Astarion has been waiting for you, a gold cup already to his lips. Knowing him, you suppose it’s either blood or fine wine, not that you care either way. You sink into the chair positioned at your end of the table, eyeing the food before you suspiciously.

“You don’t seriously think I would poison you, do you?” He exclaims. “Oh no, quite the opposite; I only want what’s best for my precious pet.”

You scoff, briefly eyeing Astarion who is sitting opposite you before turning your attention to the contents between the two of you. You would lie to yourself if you said you weren't starving. The food laid out on the table looked delicious. The table was filled with different plates of food, each one looking better than the previous, making your stomach growl in appetite. You could practically drool all over the place, but you didn’t want to give Astarion the satisfaction of seeing you cave in. Not yet, not so soon. You wouldn’t let him get the best of you.

Astarion quickly understands your intentions, with you staring right back at him, and he sighs, rolling his eyes. “It wouldn’t be wise to let yourself starve, pet. You wouldn’t want to waste all this delicious food, would you? Don’t be shy, at least take a bite.”

You're tempted, but against your better judgement, you ignore the mouth-watering meal, crossing your arms in defiance. He rolls his eyes, matching your attitude.

“As you wish.”

He snaps his fingers and the two spawns that brought you here move towards you, reaching for your arms. You stand up abruptly, pulling away from them and swiftly grabbing a knife from the table, standing in a defensive stance. Astarion speaks up, and you can practically hear the smile in his voice. “Trust me, you do not want to pick a fight here. My lovely assistants only want to bring you back to your cell for the night.”

“I know the way.”

“I insist.”

Your fatigue and hunger get the best of you; you simply don’t have the energy to fight.

“Fine.” You drop the knife on the floor in defeat; even if you managed to land a blow, you had nowhere to run off to, and they would probably catch up to you anyway.

“That’s my girl.”

You hate the effect he still has on you. He knows just what to say to get to you.

You shoot him a deadly glare and feel your breathing quickening as your heart races with anger and your nails dig through your palms. He smiles pretentiously at you, and you’re overcome with thoughts of jumping onto him and punching his stupid face, making him regret everything he’s done to you these last few days. If it wasn’t for the awful twist in your gut, you might have. You shut your eyes closed as you look away, frowning, before you start walking away and the two vampire spawns accompany you to your cell, where you let yourself slouch over the rock wall. At least, they didn't restrain you again.

Once again alone with your thoughts, your mind drifts to your companions. Specifically Shadowheart; would she still be waiting for you? Would she be looking for you? You wish you had a way to contact her, let her know you need help. Your thoughts are interrupted by a stabbing feeling in your gut, again. Maybe you should’ve taken a bite, just a small one, just to keep you going… No, this was a game to him, you needed to hold on. The pain is good, you try to convince yourself, it’s a reminder that I’m alive, mortal, and I’ll fight to keep it that way as long as I can.

Another wretched tenday passes and you avoid the food still. Every day follows the same routine: you’re woken up, Astarion’s spawns bring you to the large dining room where you’ll refuse to eat anything, until he gets bored of your attitude and you’ll be brought back to your cell, three times a day. You sense how Astarion is getting annoyed at you, and it strengthens your resolve. However, you hate to admit it, but you’re becoming weaker and weaker. You spend most of the passing days asleep, unable to think straight through your hunger, and too exhausted to do anything else.

Finally, you cave in.

As you're brought to the dining room for dinner, your gaze falls upon your favourite meal, presented before you. For the first time in days, your façade breaks down, you have eyes for nothing else other than the meal in front of you. Had this been given to you on the first day, you would’ve gladly turned it down, but you didn’t have that kind of resolve anymore. Astarion snaps you out of your reverie by speaking up, and you raise your eyes to meet his.

“You had asked me what my favourite meal was and I couldn’t remember.” His tone is gentle. “It had been so long that everything tasted like garbage. Even wine tasted like pure vinegar. It frustrated me. That’s when you told me about yours: Baldurian Mash. You described it in such great detail, I could almost taste it myself.” He pauses, and you look up to meet his gaze. “I wanted to give you what I couldn't have. A chance to remember.” You can’t stop the tears from swelling up. You’re famished, completely drained, and mentally spent; this was the last straw. You grab the gold-plated utensil with a shaky hand and dig into the plate, shoving that first bite in your mouth. It’s even better than you remember it. You chew on that first bite longer than necessary, relishing the taste of the meal. It’s comforting, filling, it tastes like home; it’s everything you’ve wanted and more. You are so hungry that you end up ravishing the rest of it, barely taking the time to savour it properly past that first mouthful. Your belly growls, this time content with the food you finally gave it. After so many days resting on an empty stomach, you can't afford to eat anything else. You smile unconsciously as you lay back in your chair, satisfied with your meal, before getting up to leave, following the usual routine.

You stop in your tracks near the door and slightly turn around towards the ascendant, pausing before the words escape your lips.

“Thank you.”

As you walk away, you miss the devilish grin forming on his lips, as you curse yourself for granting him the satisfaction of your words.

You know the way to your cell by heart now; you would probably be able to reach it with your eyes closed. You walk in front of the spawns, your mind wandering to your evening, to him. He remembered that little detail about you that felt so insignificant back then, and he sounded so sincere. What if he cared all along? Had you been wrong about him all along? Did you miss out on the signs, too blinded by your guilt? Deep down, was he still your Astarion? The same questions keep repeating themselves over and over until one of the spawns speaks up, snapping you out of your own world.

“Excuse me, my lady?”

Lady? The mention of the title stops you in your tracks and you turn around to face them, a question mark visible on your face.

“Lord Ancunín requested that you be moved to this room from now on.”

The spawn walks towards a door you had never noticed previously and opens it, welcoming you in. You look at the other spawn who nods at you before you walk towards the room. Inside you find a large bed, draped in luxurious blue and gold silk sheets, a lit fireplace creating a warm light all around, and a large window, covered by black curtains. The room alone is almost as large as the one you shared with your companions back at the Elfsong. The walls were filled with books that you couldn’t make out exactly, and a cosy blue velvet chair sat between the fireplace and the window. You’re still taking everything in when one of the spawns speaks up.

“Please let us know if you are in need of anything. Have a good night, my lady.”

You barely notice them as they both leave, closing the door behind them, too enraptured by the sight of your new room. You're confused. Could this be a trap? Was he watching you from somewhere like he had been all those previous months? You look around quickly but can't make out much, as the fatigue from your first meal in days settles in. The bed in the middle of your room looks so comfortable after spending days sleeping against the cold rock ground. You reach for it and as you lay down, you feel yourself drift to sleep almost instantly.

Familiar faces that look like you

They tend to

Mess with my head just like it's deja vu

It's always

Right when I think I’m getting over you

That it feels

Like I have salt inside an open wound

A/N²: POLL TIME

i already have another chapter written which wont be affected by this poll. BUT for the chapters that will follow, i need a direction since its going to change how i approach the writing (dialogues and important actions are going to be different based on the outcome)

i do have an idea for each option, i just need to know whats the vibe cause i cant decide myself (bisexual moment)

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nyxyooni · 2 years

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[SAMPLE] Paradisio Sanguineus

this is a sample. but a mere taste of what the finishing product will be which im probably going to post on ao3 for my own convenience and also... yes...

———

"And you must be Little Brucie Wayne?" Clark Kent had entered the room Bruce had been waiting in for about half an hour with a scowl on his face and a hand holding very tightly onto some folders and a laptop. The man looked tired and put off despite there being a grin on the man's handsome face it was much too sharp, "... I'm told that it's a fucking miracle that you're out of your Dracula mansion but I don't see why that is..." stormy eyes looked him over with something akin to boiling indifference.

Blinking up at the man Bruce simply sat there, what was he supposed to do now? Alfred had told him that this week was for him to show the world (to some degree) who he was, that he was a real person with feelings but here he was mouth glued shut and palms sweaty.

Clinking his tongue the man sat directly across from him, settling with a soft grunt. "Brucie... Wayne..." sighing Clark Kent opened his laptop, staring at the bright symbol on it Bruce tried desperately not to think about the way his name fell out of the man's lips.

Nodding he bit his bottom lip, discreetly wiping his hands off his thighs before crossing his legs and leaning back in the chair, hands cradled low on his stomach. Working his jaw he forced himself to relax, all he had to do was answer any questions he could and make sure to not give too many details. As if Bruce would ever allow himself to overshare.

"So, why is that a..." once again Kent's stormy eyes raked over him before he too settled back into his chair, "man such as yourself biting the bullet? Especially after not so much as showing his face in your spacious front yard?" Kent worked his jaw so hard it hurt Bruce to even look.

"Um..." licking his lips Bruce tried not to shift, "well, I've been back for a while and—"

"Yes, you've been back for a whole year, everyone and their fucking dead grandma knew about your return," sighing, eyes rolling up to the ceiling and lips quickly moving into what Bruce was pretty sure was a prayer before his eyes dropped back down to glare at him, "what I'm asking is why you're here, now, after all this time." It didn't take a genius to notice that Kent was not pleased, his voice was rough and although he had a hand spread on the knee he had crossed over his other leg there was a rigidness to his body that made him look as sharp as he sounded.

Clearing his throat he swallowed the saliva that had begun to pool in his mouth, "uh..." that was all that could leave his throat, Bruce feared that if he tried to speak actual words again he would melt in a puddle of a pathetic fool. Furrowing his eyebrows he realized that part of the problem was most likely the eye contact so he instead dropped his gaze away from Kent's dangerously angled handsome face to his chest instead. "I guess I just needed some time to readjust to living in my family home after being gone for so long..."

Focusing on Kent's chest seemed to not help at all, not in the absolute slightest. The button's navy blue dress shirt around Kent's chest was hanging on for dear life, almost immediately as he noticed that whatever he was going to say became lodged halfway out of his throat. Opening and closing his mouth Bruce felt his entire face flush.

Fuck.

Slamming his jaw closed too hard his eyes rattled in his head Bruce snapped his eyes up to look at Kent's face again, no longer were his hands resting low on his stomach instead they clutched tightly onto the lapels of his suit jacket and his dress shirt. If he weren't terrified about whether or not Kent realized that he was basically checking him out Bruce would be panicking about Alfred getting mad at him for creasing his suit.

"Would you look at that..." Kent had his thumb pressed to his lips, eyes trained on Bruce's face as he mumbled something he was sure wasn't meant to be heard.

"What?" It seemed that the comment fueled a part of Bruce's brain he wasn't aware existed, Bruce's tone had been clipped like it never had been before but whatever confidence he had was gone when Kent began moving out from his chair.

Clark Kent moved with certainty and a touch of authority that Bruce didn't envy but instead cowered under, it left a tingling sensation on his tongue and made him hot all over. No, it wasn't envy that he was feeling, this was a whole different beast. Halting right in front of him Kent stared down at him and suddenly Bruce was very thirsty, swallowing unconsciously Bruce tilted his head back to look up at the man properly and proceeded to follow his face as it lowered until they were face to face.

Bruce's face was so hot, his clothes felt as though they were sticking to places on his body where they really shouldn't, and then suddenly Kent was getting closer and closer and—Bruce couldn't breathe anymore, his head was hazy and stuffed with cotton.

"All pretty and shit," Kent spoke as though he didn't know he was actually speaking out loud, "pink lips, pink cheeks and..." crooning the man lifted one of his hands up to just barely cup Bruce's jaw, there was no skin to skin contact just phantom whispers of what could be. Of what Bruce found himself desperately wanting, "oh sweet doll, I bet you're pink on the inside too..."

Finally, that was what snapped Bruce out of whatever haze he was in, yanking the hand down and away from his face, working his jaw as he ignored the fact that his entire body was on fire he glared at Clark-bitch-ass-Kent, "I wasn't aware that you cozied up with your interviews, must be why you're the best-of-the-best," letting go of Kent's thick arms Bruce pushed himself off the chair, eternally to whatever divine entity made it so the man all up in space moved away and back from Bruce. "See you tomorrow, Mr. Kent."

Walking away Bruce's hand's trembled as he brought them up to rest on his stomach, his face was blood red, and Kent calling him a sweet doll kept ringing in his head as he practically stumbled down to the ground floor where a car was waiting for him.

... ... ...

#this is me trying to make up for the fact that i was so busy this whole past week that i didn't even get to write ch 3 of Honey Ties TT #im sosososooo soryyyy TT #there are no words that can describe how ashamed i feel but i PROMISE i'll make it up to yall #i fucking SWEAR i will #superbat #no capes au #clark kent #bruce wayne #my dc fic

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petruchio · 6 months

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Twenty Questions: Fic Author Edition

@caesarflickermans tagged me to do this a little while ago and i'm procrastinating doing some actual writing so here goes

1-How many works do you have on ao3?

ten

2-What's your total AO3 word count?

105,385

3-What fandoms do you write for?

hunger games always! and i wrote a few pjo fics last summer

4-What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

we’ll fill our mouths with cinnamon

the birds were singing of you

flowers never bend with the rainfall

under the blossom that hangs on the bough

simple song

5-Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

i try to! sometimes i get overwhelmed when a comment is too nice and i want to give it a thoughtful answer and then i procrastinate answering because i don't feel like i have the energy to be thoughtful enough to show how honestly genuinely grateful i am that someone left the comment and then it spirals and i just never reply lol. but i try to at least say thank you to most people because it really does mean so much to me when people comment on my work

6-What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

i am a happy ending girlie at the end of the day but probably flowers because like, things are not going to get better in that au

7-What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

probably simple song because it is just pure self indulgent romance. but maybe my post mj fic too because we know what happens next and it is happy

8-Do you get hate on fics?

hate is a strong word but one time i did write that one short post mj fic and people responded by being like "i don't like this" and i was like ... okay haha. oh and one time someone bookmarked my pjo fic and said it could've been better written but the idea was good and i was like meh i'll take it. (i was actually super offended at the time and i was like fully prepared to delete my entire archive over the comment but im over it now lol.)

9-Do you write smut? If so what kind?

no. i try to kind of fade to black or allude to sex because i do feel like it sometimes has relevancy to the plot but i don't really have an interest in writing it in detail

10-Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

11-Have you ever had a fic stolen?

12-Have you ever had a fic translated?

13-Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

14-What's your all-time favorite ship?

katniss/peeta

15-What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

ugh my district 4 au. i have it outlined in such excruciating detail and i have so many scenes that i think would be so fun to write but i just cannot get the beginning to gel and i don't think it ever will

16-What are your writing strengths?

i'm not sure whether to interpret the question as what i think is good *in my writing* or what my strengths are in my process, so i guess i'll try to do both!! i think style-wise i do a nice job of trying to weave the thematic/symbolic threads in my stories together so that they conclude in a way that makes sense from the outset, and i think i have some nice moments of descriptive writing. as far as process, i think i write relatively strong first drafts which definitely makes the editing process more enjoyable

17-What are your writing weaknesses?

style-wise i think i can write some real clunky dialogue (who among us, lol) and i don't always get my pacing right. i also think i have a tendency to repeat certain words or sentence structures too much and i often will skip over things when i am not interested in them and then not edit enough to notice where the story is dragging vs where i'm skipping things. process-wise, i can be slow to think of an initial concept and then when i do have an idea i sometimes get more invested in the outline and the general plot and then i can get very easily bored if the actual writing isn't fun or it's taking a while to get to the scenes i want to write.

18-Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

i don't speak any other language with an appropriate degree of fluency so i wouldn't, but i don't think it would really come up in any of my projects

19-First fandom you wrote for?

percy jackson <3 my iconic ff.net era

20-Favorite fic you've ever written?

under the blossom that hangs on the bough. it does pretty much everything i set out for it to do and i'm very proud of it. there's a couple lines i would change just because i think i wrote them kind of clunky and awkward but overall i think it's probably my best work.

i'll tag @districtunrest @rosegardeninwinter

#caroline speaks #tagged

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othercat2 · 10 months

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Hi maybe this is a bit out of the blue but I wanted to say that I have always really enjoyed ur homestuck fics and still reread them dispite no longer being as into as the Fandom as I was! They flow, two for mirth and safety dance were some of my favorites but I noticed on ao3 safety dance is gone? Is it only on dreamwidth now? Also, I genuinely don't wanna sound like im preasuring u cuz the answer can just be "ye I'm prolly not gonna finish it" but are u still working on they flow? If not that's cool, it's still an awesome read and concept (I love me some eldritch horrors who Love You Incomprehensibly[tm]) anyway just wanted to say hi, ur writings really cool and I enjoy it alot

I got in trouble because something I wrote looked like a call out because I used a rude comment I got for Safety Dance as an example. (Also, the essay/guide, which was about commenting on fic was deemed Non Fandom Related.) So I took it, the rest of my meta posts and anything else that looked like it might possibly get me in trouble down, which included several fan fics that could also be taken as either "call outs" or hate fic. (A lot of the time, I play with fan fic genres I don't feel comfortable with. Or I write something nasty/explicit because I am in a bad mood.)

TL;DR: Autism/anxiety brain and extreme scrupulosity+my epic ability to catastrophize resulted in me axing a bunch of my fic and all of my Meta out of fear of Getting Kicked Off of AO3 Because I Am A Horrible Person.

As far as two for mirth is concerned: I am very, very stuck on all of my Homestuck WIPs. Very, very very stuck. This is as frustrating to me as I am sure it is for everyone who likes my writing.

I have also been working on writing for my writing blog, and I have a (also currently stalled) original fic on Royal Road.

#if something super stressful happens i just can't deal with anything associated with it #the only way i can handle it is get rid of anything associated with the stress #which is why all my fic is locked now! anyone who wants to harass me has to comment directly and I can mute/block them

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soulrph · 2 years

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hiya! ill tell you now that this ask isnt rp related so feel free to ignore it, i just... kinda have no one to talk to about it, but i can feel it festering in me and id like to spare myself the emotional breakdown. i hope that doesnt guilt trip you into continuing. anyways, recently i deleted my tumblr blog for several different reasons, one of which was that in the fandom im currently hyperfixating on, i got vague-shade-posted at by one of its bigger artists. quickly it felt like everyone was turning on me, so i just ran while i still had the chance because i knew no one would care. and i was right— all of my mutuals and friends whom ive had day long conversations and plotted many headcannons and fics with didnt react at all and everyone avoids bringing me up even though i was a very active participant of the fandom. its like ive become a bad memory, if even that. but none of that is why im here and need to get this off my chest. that's because of AO3. ive always had very little feedback and interaction with my works, but now it feels like people from thia fandom are deliberately avoiding my content. ive started feeling very discouraged as a content creator and i dont know what to do. writing is all i have now. if i lose that... i dont know where id be. you honestly dont have to answer this, just writing it out made me feel better a little. i didnt have anywhere else to turn to, so im sorry for putting this in your inbox. thanks for listening, though. i hope your day goes lovely, and that you never feel as unwelcome in the world as i do.

hi my darling!! first i wanna say how sorry i am for not getting to you sooner! tumblr loves to hide these things from me, it’s an absolute mess! but anyway, i’m going to try and see if i can help you out here, bc ur situation sounds absolutely terrible, but it also sounds like a situation that, i’m sure, many people would relate to and understand!

so, for starters, i want you to know how welcome you are in the world, regardless of the opinions of a small group of misguided and frankly foolish people. from what you’re telling me, it sounds an awful lot like this one person who posted about you has a lot of influence in your fandom, right? enough of a presence that, when they speak, some people may feel like there’s no reason to argue or test their reasoning.

i say this because i’ve found many fandoms, at some point or other, inevitably have this kind of presence in the midst. it’s often accidental; i absolutely despise the notion of “popular rp blogs”, i’ve seen so many friendships and friend groups fall apart over accusations of being these “popular rp blogs”, and it’s an absolute mess of a situation that never made any sense to me. the dash isn’t high school. we’re all here to have fun! and yeah, we’ll complain and rant sometimes, but ultimately, we’re all here to make friends and have a good time together while we write outrageous angst about our muses, right?

i digress!

i used to write on ao3 myself, and i wrote in two or three different fandoms. not a lot, mind you! but i did notice that i got a HUGE amount of responses in the arguably smaller fandom than i did with the larger fandoms! like, the difference was incredible! plus, i don’t know if people without ao3 accounts are able to comment or offer feedback on the fics, so there could be LOADS of people reading your stuff who never made an account! i think i read stuff there for about three years before i decided to make an account!

but the truth of it is, you’re after emerging from a truly crappy situation. i think there’s tonnes of people out here who can relate to being vagued about, or to being the target of a shady post. but i also know for a fact that there’s LOADS of people here who have that as a rule; that anyone who vagues, is getting blocked on the spot. it’s 2022. we’re all adults, or at least responsible enough to be online and able to navigate this hellsite. the days of vaguing and shading others need to end.

i don’t want to end this on a dark note, so here’s some nice stuff! for one thing, you’re undoubtedly an incredibly mature and sensible person! reaching out and writing about this stuff is such a healthy thing to do, and you’ve even mentioned that you felt better after writing it, too! so well done!! secondly, you know how brave you need to be to write fanfic AND join tumblr?? SUPER brave!! and to be able to leave tumblr is also a feat of its own!! the important thing to recognize here is this: it only FEELS like people are avoiding your content. and while your feelings are valid, stress and anxiety can combine to lend a new and very unnecessary volume to the voice that’s telling you these things. you said you like writing! so write! it doesn’t matter what the people in your fandom think! you write what you want to write, and the right people will find it and read it and love it! i have a seventeen-chapter fanfic written in one of my old school copy books about a zombie apocalypse, and it started off based on my oc, then it expanded to cover literally any book, tv show or movie i’d ever read, seen or watched! and i love it! i love reading that old tattered book! you write what you love, and other people will love it too. okay?

ily. know that you are always welcome here. and know that your value doesn’t depend on the opinions of a few. you’re a good person, and you didn’t deserve to be treated that way, and i’m sorry. i’m so sorry that you ever had to feel so badly that you felt “unwelcome”. but just because that group doesn’t welcome you, doesn’t mean that the rest of the world feels the same way! keep writing. and promise me you’ll never forget that you’re always, ALWAYS welcome here.

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honeykept · 3 years

Text

It’s in the Knowing (that Wishes Come True)

destiel december 2020 prompt: sledding + spn advent calendar 2020 prompt: wishes wc: ~1.4k

[READ ON AO3]

“Dean, you had,” Sam huffs, “infinite possibilities at your disposal. And you wished for–for this?”

Dean’s a little confused, too, looking out at the mountains. Almost every inch is covered with a layer of snow, but by far, the hill they’re standing on has the thickest blanket. Dean’s feet sink into it a little when he shifts his weight, studying their surroundings.

Apart from the clearing they’re in, the place is littered with trees. Dean’s gaze follows the trunks up, until he’s looking at the sky, which is quickly losing light. He thinks he can make out the beginning twinkles of constellations, and when he laughs, a puff of frosty breath obscures them for a moment before fading off.

Then he smells it—something like firewood, he thinks, and turns towards it. Eyes still searching the tops of the trees, Dean catches sight of a thin column of smoke, likely from a cabin nearby.

A few feet away from them, a tree branch packed with snow loses its hold, and the whump of the snow hitting the ground startles Dean out of his thoughts.

“I don’t know, man,” Dean says, “It’s not like I really had a choice. I just, you know, just had this thought, I guess, and now…we’re here.”

He turns back to Sam, who focuses on Dean once more, seemingly having caught sight of the smoke too.

“I’m assuming…those have something to do with it?”

Dean’s eyes follow the direction Sam’s finger is pointing to, which is a somewhere on the ground and behind Dean, off to his left. Just at the edge of the hill sit two sleds—the old, wooden kind that seem like they’re always one good bump away from splintering into a million pieces, but somehow never do.

He chuckles, moving towards them to check them out, when Sam urgently pats his shoulder. Dean swivels around, taking in Sam’s confused—but not shocked—expression, and once more tracks his stare to see what he’s looking at.

Dean finds himself mirroring his brother, but otherwise smiling despite himself.

“What took you so long?” He hears himself say, feels Sam looking at him weird in response. If this was his “wish,” then this only made sense—it’d just been a matter of waiting for him to show up.

Cas levels him with a stare that says ‘really?’ and Dean moves to meet him half way.

“Jackets,” Cas says, handing Dean a thick black one that looks like it’s meant for snow. Dean takes it. “And Jack,” Cas adds. With a gentle tilt of his head, Dean looks over and sees Jack, not too far away, walking briskly towards them with something small in his hands.

“You two always come out here practically naked,” Cas says, leaving Dean and handing Sam his own jacket. “And the lumberjack outfits are fine for when it’s any other season, but you do realize it’s the dead of winter, right?”

“Well, you…” Dean starts, about to tell him off for the dress shoes and trench coat he’s never seen without, except that Cas isn’t wearing them, he’s…

“Cas, is that—are those—are you wearing boots?” Sam asks, a lilt of amusement in his voice.

Cas looks down, frowning. “These are my snow boots. Dean got them for me last Christmas.” He shoots Dean a confused glance, as though Dean should be in on this, and Sam was the one acting deluded. Dean can’t really bring himself to care, too busy smiling at the rest of Cas’ outfit.

He’s about to comment on the snow pants, which are black and baggy over Cas’ lower half, but Jack makes it to them just in time, pushing something into Cas’ chest.

“You forgot your beanie,” Jack explains, and then looking up at them, “I thought you guys came out ahead of us so you could ‘get the sleds ready.’ Cas and I started on the cookies so they should be done by the time we get back.”

Dean watches Cas slip the beanie on, losing his breath a little at the sight. The thought occurs to him—when he’s looking long enough to notice Cas’ red nose and ears and cheeks—that angels don’t usually get cold.

“Hang on—you left the oven on unattended?” Sam says. Pulling his eyes away from Cas, Dean chuckles at the wild look on Sam’s face, like he’s half ready to bolt for the cabin to stop it from catching fire.

“Of course not.” Jack frowns at him like he should know better. “I charmed it with the spell you taught me. It’ll shut off automatically when it’s done.”

Sam relaxes, forcing a smile. “Right. Uh, Dean? Can we talk for a second?”

Dean follows him around to the nearest tree, which is far enough away that Jack and Cas probably won’t hear them over their own conversation (Dean thinks he hears something about hot chocolate) if they talk quietly enough.

“We can’t stay here,” Sam says, “We have to find a way out.”

Dean wets his lips, “I know, Sammy, but…” He looks over at Jack and Cas.

Sam is quiet for a second before he notes, “You want to stay.”

He shrugs. “Just…just for a little while longer. We can–we can go sledding, eh? We haven’t done that since we were kids! And then—then we can figure out a way out of here.”

Sam has a look of growing concern on his face, something Dean thinks is teetering too close to pity.

“What?” He jokes, “You’re telling me you don’t wanna see those two sled? It’s not for us, Sam, it’s for the nerdy angels over there.”

His brother manages a smile, which is a relief. “Sure,” he says gently. Dean pretends not to hear it, heading now for the sleds and waving them all over.

He pulls the sleds apart, placing them each by the hill’s edge, but not so close that sitting on them would be enough to send them flying down the slope.

“Okay,” Dean starts, “How do we want to do this?”

Dean knows the answer before anyone says it. Better stated: he knows his wish before anyone else does.

“The logical route would be to pair up,” Cas says seriously, “You and Sam have done this before, so each of you gets a sled.”

Dean feels his chest go tight with anticipation for a second, and then it subsides. He nods.

“Good idea. Who—”

“I’ll go with Jack,” Sam interrupts, a wry smile on his face. Dean quirks his lips in a smile, cocking his head to the side in a mild ‘screw you’ gesture to his brother. He turns to Cas.

“Well, hop on then Louise and we’ll sail off this cliff together,” Dean says. He waits for the recognition to spark in Cas’ eyes and he smiles—for real this time—as Cas situates himself in the front of the sled. He spares Jack and Sam a glance, amused at how Sam is struggling not to take up most of the sled with his legs, before sitting down behind Cas.

And he stays like that for a moment, sitting awkwardly and gathering his courage, until he musters up enough to wrap his legs around him.

“I’m nervous,” he hears Jack say. Dean thinks, Me too. Sam laughs and reassures Jack that it’ll be fine.

“Okay, uh, you’re gonna have to lean back once we kick off, alright?” Dean instructs, trying to remember how to do this.

“You promise I won’t fall?”

Dean swallows. “Nah. I’ll hang on to you.”

“Let’s race,” Sam says. He can feel him staring and avoids Sam’s gaze. He’ll blame the tint on his cheeks and ears on the cold, if Sam ever asks.

Dean scoffs, “You’ll lose.”

“Prove it,” Sam responds, and then he’s pushing off and leaving them in the dust.

Dean’s surprised by the laugh that escapes him, and then he’s pushing off too, and he and Cas are propelled down the snowy slope after the others.

Cas leans back as instructed. Dean’s pretty sure the guy can feel the rush of his heartbeat with his back on Dean’s chest like that, but Dean can also feel Cas’ steel grips on his legs, nails digging into his shins.

He laces an arm around Cas’ chest, pressing him closer. “I’ve got you!” he reminds him.

There’s a beat, and then over the sound of the wind whipping against their faces, Cas says, “I know.”

tag list (ask to be added/removed):

@castiels-a-lamp @jellydeans @writtenmemxries @cestladean @randomblabbling @fluffiestlou @dreamnovak @weird-dorky-little-d @depressivedemonnightmaredean @jackleslongcon @friedchickenangelwings @galaxycastiel @destielle @dickspeightjrs @on-a-bender @organicpurplepants @casbelieves @samuelswinchester @spacegirlstuff @seffersonjtarship @winchester-novak @professorerudite @squintingg @holmesemrys @imnotrevealingmyname @festivemish @good-things-do-happen-dean @angxlsgrxce @casandeans @castielscrookedtrenchcoat @destiel-in-its-natural-habitat @gracelesschoice @superduckbatrebel @iheardyourprayer @top13zepptraxx @that-one-fandom-chick @scoobydean @destiels-canonahhhhhhhhhh @maxguevra @cursed-or-not @i-think-im-humanbut-cant-besure @fitinmypoems @madilineskingdom @awolfnamedaliac @castee-yel @tearsofgrace @credentiast @fivefeetfangirl @my-favourite-hellatus @gray-is-neutral @sunflower-vol-28 @ensignabby @ar-bi-trary @lulu-zodiac @y-yo-a-ti-dumbass @castielology @nguyenxtrang @destiel-bitches @supergaycas @deancasology @miadeline @save-the-sloths

#this is so fluffy im gonna puke #alsO i've never ridden a sled before so like #dont cancel me or anything #destiel december 2020 #spnadventcalendar2020 #rambleoncas writing #spn #destiel #supernatural #whats up with me and these titles lately huh??#weirddd #roc original #my post

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regina-dei-fiori · 3 years

Text

✦─chapter: 1/? ( ↣ )

✦─wordcount: 1.2k+

✦─genre: angst with a happy ending, fluff, friends to lovers, college/human au

✦─fandom: moominvalley

✦─pairing: snufmin (snufkin x moomin)

✦─summary: as the night, cold air hits my face, i come here because i want to understand. understand you of all people. you've been so good to me, and i feel as if i've been unfair to you. will you help me sort things out?

or: when moomin and snufkin have their first big fight, they find themselves discovering new things about each other.

✦─loosely inspired by the song two slow dancers, by the one and only mitski

✦─read and support on ao3 💕

a/n: waaah, here we are finally. it is i, secret anon who asked @hanekdrawsmoomins if they could write fanfics about their au muahahaha. im quite excited for this, since this is my first time writing like, actual serious fanfics lol. but yeah,,, this one’s going to be a lil too much on the angsty side since ive been on my feels, but i sure do hope you guys enjoy lmao.

HOWEVER, happy ending is promised, so don’t worry about that dsjhgjgdskg

also, if anyone would a tag list to be created, plz tell me in the comments!

finally, i would just like to thank the amazing @iemondropsss for being my beta reader!! i really appreciate it <33

so, with nothing left to say, let’s get right into it >:))

-He's outside, Moomin,- a voice says from behind. -In the hallway.

I turn my head around quickly, alert from the sudden new sound. I relax when I realize it was just Snorkamiden. I make out her face in the middle of the club-like flashing lights. I'm sitting in a chair, decorated with pink and red paper strips. The music is so loud in the gymnasium, I could barely catch what she was saying.

The worried look she's wearing says more than a thousand words. I know who she's talking about, but I choose to appear that I don't.

-Who's outside?- I say as nonchalantly as possible, as I turn my head back to the table and start playing with the plastic cup in front of me. Snorkmaiden sees through my act tho. She always does.

She huffs, changing her expression to one that is not at all amused.

-Stop acting stupid. You know exactly who I'm talking about.

I take the cup and slurp the near nonexistent juice. Why is he even here? Didn't he say that he never wanted to see me again? Is he just playing around? Should I go see him?

Fuck, I really want to see him again--

No. Control yourself, Moomin. You're mad at him, remember?

I stay there, thinking for a while. I feel Mai and Sniff's eyes on me. Sniff is sitting at the same table as me. I know he's worried about me. He's been more nervous than usual, giving shaky looks to Mai from across the dancefloor before we sit down together, trying to find an answer as to what was going on.

-You can't stay like this forever, Moomin. You two will have to talk things out at some point...

-But does it have to be right now?- I turn back to see her again, my eyes pleading with the false hope of putting the confrontation off longer. Snorkmaiden doesn’t seem to change her mind.

We have a quick staring contest before she speaks again.

-He literally came running from his house, you insufferable idiot. Doesn't that mean something to you?

I almost knock my chair over from standing up too fast, and I really hope no one noticed. I don’t need more embarrassing attention than I already have.

-What? How do you even know that?

-It's easy to tell, he's panting like crazy.

I lean against the table’s edge as I try to make sense of what he has done.

What does he think he’s doing? Has he gone out of his mind? Why would he do something so stupid? Go run from his house to here, in this goddamn weather? Is he serious? And what for? Did he...?

I stay paralized at the mere thought of it. No, it can't be. He didn't just…

-Well, maybe... maybe he forgot something in his locker-, I say in a desperate attempt to regain my cool. An attempt that, of course, goes in vain.

-Moomin, we both know he doesn't care about school work, or at least not to that degree. What could he possibly forget at school that would be so important for him to come running like that in the middle of a freezing night?

Her stare wears me down. I don't wanna say it, I don't even want to think about it. I wouldn't like to get my hopes up for nothing. I wouldn't like to get hurt…

But then again, why would he come?

I look down at the floor, meditating for a second. If I go out there, it will be inevitable for us to talk again. I'll have no choice but to listen to what he has to say.

And for some reason, that scares me to death.

Because…

What happens if he actually meant what he said? What if he actually doesn't want to talk to me anymore? I don't think I would be able to handle that.

I sigh heavily. My head is spinning like crazy. He's outside right now. He's right there. And you, sir, need answers, don't you? Once you do this, you'll be able to sleep more peacefully tonight (hopefully).

It really can't be that bad, right? If things go south, we'll just... Well, we'll just stop talking to each other and that’ll be that…

I shake that thought out as fast as it comes. If I think too much I won't be able to get anything done.

I turn my head back up, to see Snorkmaiden anticipating a final decision from me. I catch my breath one last time. Here goes nothing, I guess.

-Where is he, exactly?

I can see her body relax after those words come out. I can even swear I see a small smile tease her face.

-Next to the janitor's room, around the corner.

I adjust my tuxedo, and Mai finally breaks from her static position, placing her hand on my shoulder.

-Good luck.

I nod curtly as my answer and start walking towards the gymnasium's exit, fighting the urge to look back. I hope Mai can take the work of explaining to Sniff what the hell is going on. I feel bad for not being able to tell him myself, but sometimes even I don't know how to decipher these situations myself.

I hear one of the boys of the basketball team call after me before going through the door, but I already nod to the teachers outside in the hallways that I’m just passing through. I quickly explain I'm going to the restroom, and I hope to God the coach doesn't notice that I'm sweating quite a bit.

I don't even know what I'm going to say once I get to him. We haven't talked in a couple of days now. He's good at avoiding people when he sets his mind to it. Who’s even supposed to start the conversation? That is implying he actually did come all this way just to talk to me. Damn, what if we're all wrong and he really just came to pick something up? Ah, this shouldn't be so complicated-

My thoughts stop once I turn around the corner. I stop on my tracks once I hear faint sobs. There appears to be no one at first glance, but then I notice a lump on the floor, right next to the door of the janitor's.

I don't really know how to proceed. But before I can do anything, he notices me. He's wearing his green hoodie's cap tightly over his head when he raises his face. He watches me for a couple more seconds before slowly taking it off, revealing something that oh so breaks my heart.

His eyes are red and swollen, and I realize that this is the first time I’ve ever seen him crying. His eyes are also sporting deep dark circles underneath them, and it looks like he hasn't taken off the hoodie in a while.

He just looks... So weak. So defeated. So hopeless. All I want to do now is go and push his hair away from his eyes and wipe his tears away. I want to hold him and tell him I promise everything will be okay. I have to remind myself that we have to talk first before anyone can be assured that they are loved.

-Moomin...- is all he can say the moment he notices it's me. He looks like he's about to burst into tears again.

Snufkin.

#moomin #moominvalley #moomin college au #moomin human au #snufkin #little my #snorkmaiden #moomin sniff #moominmamma #moominpappa #snufmin #moomin fanfic #snufmin fanfic #moominvalley fanfic #moomintroll #tove jansson #regina scrive

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ash1875 · 2 years

Text

Hey Killua!

Gon Freecss, the captain of the football team, is happy with everything he has.

He's the best player in his team, loves spending time with his teammates and friends Zushi and Ikalgo, loves playing football and has a satisfactory life overall. There isn't really anything else he wants.

But then, a white haired boy with gleaming cerulean eyes stumbles into his life, proving him wrong.

Where two boys who are lonely, one aware and one not, meet each other and fall in love.

---

This fic was created for the lovely @novembermoonss as part of the Killugon Secret Cupid Exchange 2022 hosted by @killugonvalentines ! I had lots of fun making it, and I hope you enjoy reading it as well! (I was pretty surprised that I got a mutual as my valentine though, Im really happy I was able to write something for you :D Happy Valentines day!!)

Read on Ao3, or continue reading.

“Who’re you planning to make the team captain after you graduate?”

Zushi’s question was something Gon hadn’t even thought of an answer for, and it wasn’t like he had to pass on his role in the football team immediately. There were several more months until his last day in high school.

Gon thought for a minute, staring at the wave of students entering through the school gate.

“Well, maybe I could leave the job to you.” Gon smiled as he watched his junior’s eyes widen and jaw slack, just for a moment before he composed himself.

“That’s what you wanted to hear didn’t ya? Look at you blushing.” Zushi screeched at Ikalgo’s comment.

“’No! I was just asking I didn’t mean-”

“Hey, Ikalgo don’t tease him.” Gon nudged his friend’s shoulder and the other rolled his eyes.

“It’s okay my sweet sweet child, you’re our favourite underclassman anyway! C’mere let me give you a kiss~” Zushi screamed as Ikalgo caught him under his death grip.

“Back off dude!” He fought against Ikalgo, resulting in him falling back and bumping into- well, a person who didn’t seem to be having a good day. That’s what the death stare towards Zushi told Gon anyways. Gon wasn’t one to get easily intimidated, but he wasn’t so sure now as a chill ran up his spine.

“Watch where you’re going, idiot.” The tone was mean, reinforcing the menacing aura around him. His unnerving blue eyes made Zushi visibly uneasy.

“Oh- I’m sorry!”

“Whatever.”

Suddenly, those piercing eyes were on Gon. As much as he felt he was going to sink through the floor, he took in a sharp breath and stared back at him.

The pale, blue eyed boy then left. And that was that.

After a moment, Zushi ran up to his seniors as if he just experienced a traumatic event. “Holy shit, I think I pissed my pants.”

“You got scared? Don’t you have like a black belt in kung fu or something?”

“Ikalgo! You saw that guy! You were scared too!”

“I wasn’t scared!” He retaliated.

Gon had seen the said person quite a few times around school, usually not seen engaging with anyone unless necessary. Gon was pretty sure they shared the same class last year, but he had been pretty busy with club activities after all.

It was hard not to notice the boy though- not with his distinct white hair and blue eyes. Gon noticed him everywhere, but never got a chance to interact with him.

“Hey Ikalgo, do you know that guy’s name?”

Ikalgo furrowed his eyebrows. “Haven’t you seen him around school? His name is Killua, I think.” He paused for a minute. “Hey! We literally shared a class with him last year. How do you not remember?”

Gon laughed awkwardly. “Oh, come on, you know I’m not good at remembering stuff like this.”

“Why do you want to know though? Are you going to invite him to an epic stare down contest?” Zushi interjected.

“What? No-”

“Yeah, maybe since you were such a chicken!” Zushi whined at Ikalgo.

“He was scary okay?! I don’t have the talent to stare at someone like that!”

“Not with that attitude, you don’t.”

“Hey!”

***

Gon waited.

He waited for the time to pass by, like he always did. Because after school, he’d finally be able to get on the football court and get his blood pumping.

Gon wasn’t made for sitting idly in a classroom for several hours, for god's sake.

When school would finally end, he’d head straight towards the court even though club activities wouldn’t start in an hour. He’d run a few laps around the court and practice a few drills before the other members would join him. It had been his routine for the past 2 years, and after the coach and the previous captain had seen his hard work, he was named the new captain for the next year.

He loved playing with his team. Nothing could ever match the sensation he felt when he’d score the winning goal, and the constant appreciation of his team members and coach. He was the best player on the team, there was no doubt.

His after-school schedule was no different from any other day. He slung his backpack on his shoulder and left for the changing rooms immediately.

The only thing that was different was a certain white-haired boy standing just outside the football court.

He immediately sensed Gon’s presence and they made eye contact, but he wasn’t intimidated this time. The boy- Killua- must have calmed down since the scene in the morning, Gon thought.

Killua spoke first. “You’re the captain.” Gon wasn’t sure if that was a question.

“Yes? Can I help you?”

“Can I join this club?”

Gon stared at him, confused. Join a club in the final year? How was he supposed to add this guy to the team? What exactly was he thinking?

“You’re pretty late considering we’re in our last year of high school. If you don’t mind practising with the freshmen, I think you can join.” Gon replied politely.

“I’m familiar with rules and know how to play football. Can’t I join the team?”

Gon hesitated. “I think we might need to talk to the coach for that. You’ll have to wait an hour or so.”

Killua let out a displeased grunt. “Fine.” A pause. “I’m Killua.”

“I’m Gon!” He grinned at him, and Gon got a glimpse of a small smile before Killua looked away. “By the way, why’re you joining the club so late?”

Killua’s shoulders tensed. “I-uh, I got kicked out of the photography club.”

“Can I ask what happened?”

“I punched the club leader in the face.”

Okay, so this guy was insane.

“Aren’t you going to ask why?”

“I’m fine, thank you. But why the football club? Is there a reason why you want to join?”

“I don’t know, I don’t really like clubs. Everything’s boring so I randomly chose.”

Sorry, what the fuck did you say? Gon wanted to ask but he didn’t, because he did not want to be the next club leader with a broken nose. But who could blame him for being annoyed? He wanted to know where this man got the audacity to walk into the club and call it boring and that too to the club leader, of all people.

Gon tried his best to keep his tone neutral. “I see. If you want you can leave and come later; club activities don’t start until 4 pm.” Which could also be translated to please leave.

“I’ll stay here. I have nothing better to do anyway..”

Gon shrugged, and went on with his training.

He ran a few laps around the court as usual, did a few warm up exercises and tried his best to ignore the eyes following him. Gon wasn’t really annoyed with Killua staring, really, but for some reason he was more conscious of every move that he made. He sneaked a glance during the drills and Killua was studying him, his eyebrows furrowed and looking at him with utmost concentration that he didn’t even notice that Gon had stopped practising to look back at him.

Did Killua really mean it when he said he was uninterested in the club?

When the rest of the teammates joined in, Ikalgo was the first person to notice the new presence in the court. He didn’t hesitate to point it out to Zushi and howl at the way the younger man lost the colour in his face.

Later when Bisky, the coach, joined them, Gon called Killua over and they talked to her together.

“You want to join and play with the team.”

“Yes.”

Bisky stares at him for a minute. “How good do you think you are?”

“I’m not. But I’ll try to keep up.”

Gon looked over to Bisky. “What do you think we should do?”

She put her hands on her hips. “Well.. How about we split the members into two groups, and play a match? Killua, you will have to play against Gon. How’s that?”

Killua grinned, maybe for the first time that day. “Let’s do it.”

Gon’s team won the match. He really wasn’t sure what he was expecting.

Gon glanced at Killua, who was sitting on the ground wiping off the sweat on his forehead. He contemplated whether he should say something and ended up walking over and sitting next to him anyway.

“Hey Killua, you did really well.” And he really did. Killua was surprisingly fast, and his control over the ball was astonishing, dare he say, maybe as good as him. Gon wasn’t sure if he was annoyed at the fact that Killua was just a few steps from surpassing his skills, but he still couldn’t shake the rush of excitement he felt when he realised he can keep up with me. Gon wasn’t sure how long it had been since he felt that way.

By now Gon was sure that Killua was lying when he said he found the sport boring. That was too competent for being uninterested.

“I wasn’t that good…” Killua kept his eyes down.

Gon tried to get a look on the other boy's face. “No! You played really well! I almost thought you were going to beat me!” Killua perked up and looked at Gon.

“But I didn’t win. I probably won’t get into the team.”

“I think I’d like you in the team. It would be nice to have someone to keep up with me.” Gon smiled, mostly at how Killua’s already flushed face from exhaustion turned into a darker shade of pink.

And just as Gon wished, Killua was recruited into the team.

***

Killua was a diligent student, Gon had noticed, much more than the rest of the members. He arrived for practice every day on time, did his best, and sometimes even stayed afterwards just to practice alongside Gon.

Gon was a hundred percent sure that Killua was not uninterested. With what he had heard from Ikalgo, Killua didn’t work this hard in the photography club. But Gon wasn’t complaining. Now that Killua was there, he felt less lonely somehow- not that he knew he was in the first place.

Also, Killua wasn’t that scary after all. After a few months of being around Killua, all Gon could see was a really funny and extremely kind boy who was just really lonely. Gon was happy that Killua was ready to let him into his life, but there were still so many things he didn’t know about. Killua loved to talk about his sister, but he didn’t like talking about the rest of his family for some reason, so Gon tried not to bring up the topic at all.

Another thing Gon noticed was, Killua was really good looking.

He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t thought about this the first time they met, or even during the first month they actually spent together as friends. But now that he had seen Killua laugh, watched as he smiled at him for the most random things, noticed how his cheeks flushed with every compliment and saw the content look on his face when he ate chocorobos, he thought Killua was beautiful.

“Gon, are you going to stay after practice today?” Gon smiled at the now familiar voice.

“Yeah. Are you staying too?” Gon asked as Killua sat next to him on the changing room bench and watched as he put on his shoes.

Killua looked at him sporting a catlike grin. “Won’t you be lonely if I’m not here? So, I’ll stay.”

Gon tried not to blush. “Of course, I’ll be lonely now that I’m used to you around...” He murmured, and watched Killua’s ears turn pink.

He still kept going. “You really love me that much huh?”

“Yes I do!” He leaned onto Killua, who immediately shot up from his seat, face burning a bright red.

“You’re so embarrassing! Let’s just go practice.”

“You were the one who asked me!” Gon whined, running after Killua.

The fact that Killua was getting better every day at football was something that popped up in Gon’s head every time during practice. He himself had improved a lot it seems, and he realised he still had a lot of room to improve. It was also a fact that they were a really good team. Bisky was also satisfied with her decision to add Killua into the team, as it seemed to be paying off.

After practice, when Gon had changed his clothes to go back home, he saw that Killua was still outside unlike other days where he leaves early.

Killua noticed Gon coming out of the changing room. “Ah, Gon. I was wondering if you wanted to walk home together.”

“Huh? Oh, Sure!”

And that was what they did.

The sun was already setting by the time they headed out, Gon tightened the strap of his backpack as they walked along side by side. He peered at Killua, his hair looked slightly orange because of the sunlight, and his eyes were bright.

Killua looked back at him. “What’re you looking at?”

You. “Nothing.” He stretched his hands over his head and groaned.

“Tired?”

“Mhm.” Gon moved closer to his friend, noticing it was getting dark. He wasn’t really sure if that was the reason he was moving closer. “Hey Killua?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s getting dark.”

“’I know.”

“Can you hold my hand?”

Silence.

“Why?”

“I can’t see properly. And I’m tired.”

Silence again.

“Okay.” Slender fingers intertwined with Gon’s, the hand was calloused and rough, but even so it felt nice to hold. Gon moved even closer, almost leaning completely on his friend.

“Don’t pass out.” Killua laughed.

“Hey Killua?”

“Hm?”

“I want to be your best friend.” Killua laughed again.

Gon liked hearing Killua laugh.

“I want to be your best friend too.”

“Then we’re best friends.”

“Are we?”

“Yeah.”

Exhaustion was already creeping into Gon, and he stifled a yawn. They were walking much slower than before.

“Dude seriously, don’t pass out.”

“I won’t.” Gon grumbled. “Hey Killua!”

“What now?” He tried to sound annoyed, but the smile on his face said otherwise.

“Tell me a secret, Killua.”

Killua’s hands loosened for a minute, and just for a moment, Gon thought that he made a mistake.

“You’re my first best friend.”

Gon gasped. “Really?”

“Yeah. Now you tell me something.”

“Hmm… I think Killua's really pretty.”

Killua didn’t let go of his hand. “That’s embarrassing.”

Gon couldn’t really see Killua’s face because of how dark it was now. The streetlights weren’t turned on just yet, but the sun had already set. “How is that embarrassing? I’m just telling the truth.”

“Don’t make me knock you out and leave you on the street.”

“You wouldn’t.”

Killua hummed slowly, with a soft smile on his face.

***

“What’s going on between you two?” Ikalgo asked Gon, as he watched him carefully bounce a football on his feet.

“With who?” Gon asks back, concentration not wavering. Forty-seven, Forty-eight, Forty-nine-

“Killua.”

He drops the ball.

“What about him?” Gon finally turned his attention towards his friend.

“…Gay?”

They stared at each other.

“What?”

“Are you both- Uh- Never mind.” Ikalgo sighed

Gon looked over to where the ball had rolled over, and his eyes trailed to Killua somehow. He was talking to Zushi- who was no longer terrified of him- with his hands on his hips. Zushi seemed to be demonstrating something, pointing out to his legs and Gon watched as Killua nodded to him while he talked.

“You’re staring at him again.” Gon tore his eyes away and saw Ikalgo with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“I wasn’t.”

“Yeah, keep lying to yourself.”

Gon scrunched his face and leaned closer to Ikalgo. “Do I stare a lot?” He whispered

“Yes you do.” He whispered back.

“Does he know?”

“Probably?”

Gon slapped a hand into his face. Oh god, this was bad.

Ikalgo put his hand on Gon’s shoulder. “My dude, it's okay. I know it's your first man crush, and you’re feeling overwhelmed-”

“I’m not-”

“But I support you! So-”

“I don’t have a crush on him!” Gon tried to keep his voice down. He really did not want Killua to know about this.

“Shh... I know you’re in denial, but it’s okay. I’m here for you buddy.” Ikalgo gave him a hug before patting him on the back.

Was he really in denial though? Was that it?

“What’s happening here? Why are you guys hugging without me?” Zushi joined in the conversation, and Gon noticed Killua right behind him.

“Our captain is upset that he doesn’t have a date for prom. You know, he isn’t really great in the romance category.” Gon pinched Ikalgo’s arm. Hard.

“Oh! Why don’t you just ask someone to go with you?” Zushi asked, oblivious to how Ikalgo hissed in pain.

“I don’t think I will!” He said with gritted teeth. Killua looked concerned.

This was really, really bad.

Gon finally pushed Ikalgo away, but ended up regretting it as he stared in horror at the stupid asshole of a friend who walked over to Killua and slung an arm over his shoulder.

“What about you, Killua? Are you asking someone out?”

“Uh yeah, probably.” He replied awkwardly.

“Oh? Good for you then.” Ikalgo flashed a grin at Gon, and for the first time ever, he had the urge to punch his friend.

He didn’t punch him.

But he was left mortified for the rest of the day. He was unable to concentrate during practice, and he ended up messing up quite a lot. He was lucky that Bisky let it slide, and he got through the day without getting reprimanded. Killua sent him a few concerned glances, but he just waved it off, assuring he was fine. He wasn’t.

“Are you really okay? You’re seriously acting weird.” Killua had asked him when they were walking home, which had become a usual thing between them.

“I’m not acting weird.”

“Everybody noticed, Gon. Are you seriously that upset about not having a date for prom?”

“No! That’s not it, you don’t understand!”

That was exactly the topic Gon did not want to discuss. He wanted to drop everything and run. Run, not look back and not have this conversation and just go back to school tomorrow and everything would be normal. Act like nothing happened and that he didn’t quite possibly develop feelings for his best friend in the past few months.

Well, Killua wasn’t having it.

“Then? Make me understand, will you?”

“I don’t know either.”

Killua only groaned, and thankfully didn’t question any further.

The time after was quite awkward and both of them remained quiet, Killua looked away and sometimes down, but never at Gon.

Killua started, still not looking at him. “If you’re really upset about the date-”

Not again. “Killua-”

“-do you want to go with me? To prom? Only if you want to.”

Gon was going to combust. What was Killua thinking? What did he mean by that? Was he asking him out of pity, because he thinks Gon is so pathetically needy for a date? Or did he actually ask out of interest?

Did he ask him out as a friend, or as something more?

Did Killua like him too?

“Why? Do you feel bad for me?” Gon laughed, because he had no idea how he was supposed to feel about this.

“No, I don’t really want to go with anyone else. It's okay if you don’t want to, don’t feel pressured.”

What are you doing to me, Killua?

“Of course, I’ll go with you!”

Killua smiled, and it made Gon feel dizzy. “Alright then.”

***

Gon wasn’t sure when was the last time he was this excited. Oh yeah, during the first match he played against Killua.

It was always Killua, wasn’t it?

Gon ended up being extremely restless that evening when he was asked to be Killua’s date, and he got out of his house late at night and ran a few miles hoping he’d get tired and finally sleep. It didn’t work.

Aunt Mito noticed the difference in his demeanour and asked him about it. He just laughed and replied that he did really well in practice, it wasn’t like she was going to know how he fucked up during practice that day.

The rest of the days were spent as normal (almost). Something had definitely changed between Gon and Killua, which was noticed by Ikalgo, who thereby had seemed to swear on his life to tease Gon to death.

When Gon finally told Mito about his date, she was overjoyed and took it upon herself to make him look his best that day because Mito did not trust him when it came to choosing clothes. He kept insisting that he and Killua weren’t actually dating and only going as friends, so don’t worry too much, to which she gave him a placid look.

“I was wondering who made you walk around all the time with that lovesick look in your eyes. There’s no need to act cool.” Gon only looked away in embarrassment.

Gon was a nervous wreck when the day finally arrived. Goddamit, this was nothing to be scared of! He always kept his cool at all times, even during big matches. How is something trivial like this making him lose his composure? This was ridiculous.

Gon realised when he finally saw Killua outside his door in his dark navy suit, that this was anything but trivial. As much as Gon wanted to tackle him and kiss him all over his face, he instead invited Killua inside. Mito seemed extremely happy to meet the taller boy, greeting him with a hug and later sharing some unnecessary embarrassing details about Gon.

“Oh! Let me just get my phone so I can get a picture of you both.” Mito giggled and got up from the table they were seated in.

“You look nice.” Gon told Killua, as they finally got a chance to look at each other properly. Killua’s face turned red at the compliment.

“You look nice too.” He smiled. “I’m sorry, I didn’t bring any flowers.”

Gon chuckled. “You didn’t need to anyway.”

“I wanted to, though.”

Gon patted on Killua’s thigh and whispered, “You’re here. That's more than enough.”

The walk to school was just like any other day, except the fact that they were holding hands. He didn’t really remember how it happened or who reached out first, but he liked holding Killua’s hands and Gon wasn’t one to complain. And he didn’t want to give himself too much hope, but he wasn’t really sure if they were actually just going as friends. Killua hadn’t specified anything anyway.

But did he really have the right to wish for the best-case scenario?

The hall was filled with students by the time Gon and Killua had arrived. He could feel Killua's hands slightly shaking, and soon enough tried to slip his hand away, but Gon held on tight.

The members of the football club were there, and Gon spotted Ikalgo in between the group, who also spotted him- and unfortunately, who he was holding hands with- and looked at him with the smuggest smile he had ever seen.

They just ended up hanging out with the group, with Gon ignoring Ikalgo and his antics as much as possible, talking about random things and laughing. He just kept wondering what exactly they were supposed to do at prom. Killua wasn’t sure either, when he asked him.

The drinks provided by the school were overly sweet- Gon had noticed, he himself wasn’t able to drink much. But his friend who was addicted to sugar seemed to like it, even though he kept complaining how there wasn’t a trace of any other chocolate other than white chocolate in the whole room.

“This is boring.” Killua sighed. They both weren’t interested in joining the other kids in the dance hall anyway.

“Yeah, I guess. What should we do then?”

Killua thought for a moment. “Let’s get out of here, I’ll take you somewhere else.”

***

'Somewhere else' happened to be the school rooftop.

The air was much cooler on the school rooftop, but still comfortable as the wind blew slowly. It was silent as much as it could be, the muffled noise of the music playing many floors below and the leaves rustling were the only sounds. Gon looked at Killua, and the other looked away, simply ignoring the benches and sitting down on the floor.

Gon allowed himself to settle down next to him, maybe a bit closer than he had planned as Killua’s thighs brushed against his when he tried to sit comfortably. The only lighting on the rooftop was due to the moon, a soft light that somehow made Killua look as if he was glowing. Gon couldn’t tear his eyes away from him, even when Killua had turned to look back at him.

“Hi.” Gon blurted out.

“Hey.” Killua grinned, unaware of what it did to Gon’s heart. “Do you think it’s weird that I brought you here?”

“Nope. It’s nice, really.”

Gon wanted to tell him that he didn’t want to be anywhere but there, next to Killua at that moment, and maybe several more times. He wanted him to know this. But really, where was the line? How far could he allow himself to go until it was obvious, where his heart was kept out vulnerably open just for Killua to see?

Would Killua even like that?

“I used to come here every day before I joined the football club.” Gon stared at Killua, who was staring off into the sky, eyes soft in a way that meant he was thinking of a fond memory.

“Why don’t you come here anymore?”

“I do, but only sometimes now.” Killua pulled his legs closer to his chest and wrapped his hands around them.

“Why?”

“I don’t have a reason to anymore.”

“Why not?”

Killua thought to himself, a little bit of hesitation was obvious in his reply. “Because- uh- I’m in the football club now, I guess.”

Gon furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “I don’t get it.”

“Don’t think about it too much.” Killua sighed, before covering his face with his hands. They sat in silence for a while and Gon felt Killua lean closer to him. “You know, my parents didn’t want me to join any clubs.”

Oh, he’s talking about his family.

“They only wanted me to join a club if it would get me a scholarship or something. They never cared about what I want, or what I like.” Killua looked upset, but Gon didn’t know what to say. So, he kept listening.

“They have these… all these expectations, they have already decided my future for me, and I just hate it. I just wanted to piss them off by joining the photography club, but the club leader was annoying- I think you know how that went.”

“Do you think joining the football club is what your parents want?”

“Yes, but not really? I like being in the club and being able to play anyway, so it doesn’t matter that much. I don’t really care what they think.”

Gon felt his mouth quirk upwards to form a smile. “I’m happy that you are doing what you like. And that you don’t think football is boring anymore.”

He was met with a puzzled look. "When did I say it was boring?"

Gon mirrored the expression. "When you asked to join?"

"I did?"

“Yeah? How do you not remember that..” Gon trailed off, and the next part was mumbled, too inaudible to notice. “..you kind of pissed me off that day.”

“I actually don’t remember saying that.” He furrowed his eyebrows.

“You did!” Gon reiterated. “You were probably lying then, if you don't remember.” He huffed.

Killua cleared his throat. “Maybe I was.”

Gon continued to observe Killua, who noticed, but refused to make eye contact.

“Hey Killua.”

“Uh- yeah?” Killua knew what was coming, he definitely did.

“Why did you join the football club? What's the real reason?”

Killua tensed next to Gon. “Because I wanted to.”

“Is that really the only reason?” Gon raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. Killua was obviously hiding something.

“Well-” Killua wringed his hands, and momentarily glanced at Gon “- I wanted to get to know you. And be your friend. I guess.”

Gon’s breath stuttered. The words spoken were genuine and soft, and Killua looked so unfairly lovely next to him, with his cerulean eyes looking bluer than it ever has and it was too much.

And Killua continued speaking while Gon asked himself to get a grip. “I enjoy playing football with you now, and the team. I really do.” Killua was wearing a frown on his face, his cheeks coloured a light shade of crimson. “It probably sounds weird and selfish that I joined a club just to be your friend. Maybe a bit stalkerish but-”

Inhaling, sharp and quiet, Gon gathered up enough courage to gently place his hand on top of Killua’s. “I don't see anything wrong with that. It makes me happy that you thought that way and… I really like spending time with you too, Killua. I’m glad you came along.”

Killua finally met Gon’s eyes, and he tried his best to read this boy who seemed to glow brighter than the moon that night. For some reason he looked vulnerable, scared even. Killua timorously let his cold, shaking hands hold onto Gon's in a firm hold, who put his other hand on top of their intertwined ones.

There is something he wants to say, Gon thought, because he knew what it meant when Killua looked at him that way.

“Gon-” His voice slightly wavered. Gon nodded his head to encourage Killua to keep going.

“Ugh- this is really hard.”

“Take your time.” Gon didn't dare hope too much, even though the current atmosphere around them hinted towards it.

But maybe he did. He hoped, just a little bit.

“Uhm, I kind of.. like you. In that way.” Gon swallowed thickly, as he stared wide-eyed and breathlessly at Killua.

"Kind of?" Was the only thing Gon could say, and he couldn't control his smile as he felt his eyes crinkle from happiness. Killua looked back at him and smiled as a giggle broke out of Gon.

"No, a lot, actually."

Gon's heart was beating harder than he ever thought it could, and he felt his tummy tingle when he saw Killua look at him like he meant everything to him.

He removed the hand atop their intertwined ones and placed it on Killua's cheek, his heart melting at the way he leaned into his hand. It made him want to cry and laugh at the same time- it really was too much for his poor heart to handle.

Killua placed a hand on Gon’s chest, surprise visible in his face because he probably felt his heartbeat underneath his palm, and that was all it took for Gon to remove his hands from Killua’s and tug the other boy closer to himself, winding his arms around his waist for a hug.

He felt Killua’s nose dig into his neck, shivering slightly when he felt his warm breath there. Gon's palm flattened on Killua’s spine as he slowly caressed his back, and Killua’s fingers found themselves in his black hair, gently rubbing along his scalp and Gon felt more relaxed, and more at home than he had ever in a very long time.

They stayed like that for a while, until Gon noticed the absence of music from below, which was followed by the noise of students exiting the school. Gon slowly pulled away from their embrace even after Killua’s protests.

“Let’s go home, Killua.” he said, tugging at Killua’s hands and pulling him onto his feet. He looked down at the school gate, and saw the students leaving, a few pairs of students holding hands but most of them in groups, chatting with each other.

Gon only just noticed how clearly he could see about half of the school, including the football court from the school rooftop, he made a mental note to come here more often.

“Gon?” Killua was looking at him, with his hands in his pocket. It was a mystery how Killua managed to change his demeanour so quickly. He looked more confident, and not vulnerable like he had seen him a few moments ago.

“Coming!”

They walked home; hands clasped together again, but not speaking a word to each other. The hand holding felt different now, much more intimate than the first time they did, most probably due to the fact that Killua had confessed his feelings to him, after all. Gon was aware that he hadn’t said anything back, not a confirmation that meant yes, I like you too, but he was overwhelmed with everything he was feeling then. He could tell him now, even though Killua likely knew already after the positive reaction from Gon.

As they stopped walking as they reached Gon’s home, Killua beamed at him. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He still didn’t loosen the grip on his hand, nor did Gon.

“Thank you for tonight.” Gon’s voice was laced with adoration, which made Killua look down at his feet with his flushed cheeks. He was pretty sure he was blushing quite a lot too, but he didn’t focus on that too much. “Hey Killua?”

“Hm?”

Heart thrumming, Gon took in a strenuous breath. “I really like you a lot too. The same way as you do.” He waited for Killua to look at him. A soft “Oh,” was the only answer, so he placed his hand just beneath Killua’s jaw, cradling it, and he swiped his thumb over the soft skin. “I’m about to do something reckless, so tell me if you want me to stop.” He said, leaning close enough that their foreheads were touching.

Killua’s eyes kept flickering from his eyes to his lips, and he placed his hands on Gon’s shoulders, moving closer to him. He watched Killua’s eyes flutter shut as their noses slid past, and so did Gon’s, when he carefully pressed his lips onto Killua’s soft ones. His knees felt shaky, but the firm grip of Killua’s hands on his shoulders kept him in balance.

It was a short kiss, but when they pulled away, Killua kept holding onto Gon, his eyes looking needy. “Please do that again, one more time.” He pleaded, leaning in again.

So, he kissed him again, but not for the last time.

#novembermoons #killugonvalentines #ash1875 #hunter x hunter #killugon #killua zoldyck #gon freecss #valentines day #fanfic

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animereaderinsertwriter · 3 years

Text

Signed, Sealed, Delivered (Levi Ackerman x Reader)

Chapter 5

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (im watching you, if you see this, begone!), MILD SPOILERS, also this is a sequel, the first work is here. (I promise it’s good, the formatting of the origi post is just a little plain cause I hadn’t figured out what I liked yet). There’s some… stuff in this, idk, its nothing much but check the description or ao3 tags if you’re not sure of how you feel about dads who are Assholes, lots of angst because yours truly is a masochist :)

Description:

Levi returns from the war with a broken body only to have his heart broken as well when he finds (Y/N) has gone away from her father’s farm never to return or so much as remember his name- or so her father says. (Y/N), recently returned from a medical emergency in a neighboring village, is informed of her lover’s death, and the ensuing grief is almost too much to bear.

Months later, (Y/N) finds herself trapped in her father’s house, and Levi finds a very interesting ad in the personals column of the newspaper. Letter-writing shenanigans ensue, and Gabi and Falco get ideas.

Ao3 link here

Chapter 5

While wedding plans were coming along swimmingly, the boards across (Y/N)’s windows became weaker and weaker.

Admittedly, (Y/N) had felt a little betrayed by the betrothal at first— the last thing she wanted to do was marry a man who wasn’t Levi, and she’d thought her nameless acquaintance would understand that— but she had come to realize that it should have been expected. The man had answered her father’s ad for a wife, after all, not a pen pal; he was lonely, desperately so, and he walked into this arrangement with the expectation of marriage. (Y/N) knew that, and she accepted it, but she couldn’t let it happen right under her nose as though she had no agency at all.

So she formed a plan.

It took a bit longer than she’d wanted to prepare everything, but it was the nature of the beast; she needed food and water for her escape, and it took a while for her to save up enough for a journey far enough away from her father’s farm that she wouldn’t be caught. In the place of stealing money (which was virtually impossible, since no one carried coin purses around the house), (Y/N) pried off any gilding from paintings and table-edges and hid it away under her mattress. If her father or the farmhands that brought her food noticed anything, they didn’t comment, and after a few weeks more of sawing at her boarded windows, (Y/N) was fully equipped for her escape.

“Here,” her father said as he handed her a tray of food, not knowing that this would be the last time he would do so. “Eat well— you’re to be married tomorrow. No man wants a starved bride.”

I won't be a bride, starved or not, she thought triumphantly, but accepted the plate silently.

As she ate, (Y/N) wondered if the months she had spent grieving were entirely wasted. Any single day that she had been stuck in the mire of her heartache, she had been free to come and go as she pleased. She could have gone at any moment and escaped her current struggle.

It hardly matters now, she thought with a sigh. I can't change it, and I need to rest. Night will be upon me soon, and I'll need every ounce of my courage.

Yes, night would come soon. It would be cold, and there was no telling what sort of creatures would be waiting for her in the woods… if she made it to the woods.

***

So much for a plan, Levi thought to himself, sitting gingerly down on a tree stump as his leg began to ache. A cloud passed over the full moon, and he scowled as the darkness around him reflected his mood. What a mess.

He was to be married come daylight, apparently. The very idea of it made him queasy.

"Sorry, Levi," Gabi had told him a few days ago, her shoulders slumped in defeat as she related the failure that was her recon mission, and thus the plan that she and Falco had been imagining. "We’ve been watching for weeks, but her window is boarded, and when we asked the farmhands, they said her door is barred shut at all hours. I don't know how she lives like that."

Levi knew all too well that the (Y/N) he knew wouldn't live like that. She would sooner die than be caged— something she had in common with the Jaeger brat, damn his shitty hide. He couldn't imagine her willingly agreeing to be kept like a beast in a cage. The thought of it made him sick.

And yet, what did he know? Levi was buying her like one might a prize pony— perhaps not entirely without regard for her happiness and wishes, but certainly without regard for her say in the matter. What did that make him?

He sighed, glancing up at the full moonlight. The air was cold; he could see his breath against the night sky as he exhaled. It reminded him of the steam from a titan's death, and he looked away, disgusted.

Tired from his walk and his thoughts, Levi was just about to turn back down the trail that would lead him to his cottage when he heard rapid footsteps drawing near. Quickly, he drew up the hood on his cloak and backed into the treeline, and soon a figure darted into the clearing he'd been sitting in. A few seconds later, the figure was cast into sharp relief against the shadowy forest by the pale light of the moon, and by the time Levi recognized who it was, she had fallen face-first on the ground, having tripped over a protruding root.

Levi was there in an instant, offering (Y/N) a hand up.

"Careful," he told her, his voice hoarse even to his own ears. "What are you running from?"

(Y/N) looked up at him then, and scrambled backwards in fright. She was half-wild, her eyes wide and darting around her as though she were terrified of something; she carried with her only a small sack in one hand and a knife in the other, and Levi thought she had never been more beautiful.

"(Y/N), you're alright," he said, leaning a bit more heavily on his cane as he stretched his hand farther out. "I'm not going to hurt you or let anyone else do so."

She stilled, then, her eyes coming to focus on him.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice scarcely above a whisper. "How do you know my name?"

Oh.

Levi's face was concealed by his cloak.

"I'm just a man from the countryside," he told her truthfully. "I believe we're acquainted."

(Y/N) began to tremble, and Levi felt sick. This wasn’t quite how he’d imagined meeting her. In fact, he hadn’t stopped long enough to truly imagine it at all.

"Let me go," she said, her knuckles white on the hilt of her knife, and he knew she meant violence if she was met with opposition. "I can't stay here another second, I can't—"

"And you don't have to," Levi replied, dropping his hand. "I see I misunderstood."

And oh, how badly he'd misunderstood! (Y/N)— now in front of him and so clearly frightened— would never have wanted her husband to be chosen for her at random. How could Levi ever have thought that she could ever wish that? Looking at her, scared and shaking before him, Levi was ashamed of himself.

"I—" she began, then stopped herself. "I'm sorry. I really am. For what it's worth, sir, I— in another time, I could have—"

(Y/N) stopped again, and she looked as though she might cry.

"Go," Levi told her, though it broke his heart. "Go quickly, and go safely."

"I—" (Y/N) looked pained as she stood, peering at him with a familiar curiosity that made his heart ache. "I know I have no right to ask this, but… will you tell me your name before I go? I just— you've been a dear friend to me, and I want to know who I can thank for such kindness."

Levi froze, shocked. Why would she even care what his name was? Wasn't she trying to escape this place?

"I'll tell you if you tell me something first," he told her, cursing himself for a selfish fool all the while. "Why not marry me? I have riches enough to give you the life of a queen— I have acres and acres of land for you to enjoy. You could have anything you want and you have to know that I wouldn't force you into anything you didn't want— why not me?"

It was a stupid, selfish thing to ask and he knew it. He was asking both as Levi, her former lover, and as a total stranger— how could he expect any sort of answer that would be satisfactory to both ends?— and yet when (Y/N) spoke, he didn't dare breathe for fear of missing a single word.

"I don't want your gold and silver," she told him sadly, her voice quaking with emotion. "I don't want your house or your lands or any other mortal possession you could offer me. I'm in love with a soldier to whom I had promised my hand, only—"

She paused, choking on her words, then said,

"Only, he's dead, and when he died, a part of me died too… the part of me that's capable of loving anyone else." She looked away, crying. "That's why I can't marry you— because I can't love you the way you deserve."

So there had been someone else. Levi had wondered— but it was another, somehow more unbearable pain to have it confirmed.

"Thank you," he said as a sick, stabbing feeling formed in his chest. "You've given me what I asked for— but I think you'll find that you already know my name, and have only forgotten that I belong to it."

With that, he pulled back his hood, and (Y/N) gasped as though she'd been struck.

"Levi?"

***

(Y/N) could scarcely believe her eyes. She must be dreaming, she must be dead— and yet, this was never how she would have imagined Levi to be either in dreams or death.

The man before her had borne painful wounds from battle. A vicious pink line cut through his right eyebrow all the way down to just below the swell of his rosy bottom lip— whatever had injured him had not spared his right eye, which had been blinded from the looks of it. Parallel to that scar was another shorter one, and when (Y/N) glanced down, she noticed that two fingers on his right hand had been severed. In his left hand, he held a cane.

Before (Y/N) could articulate any of her questions— is it really you, how are you alive, where have you been— Levi turned away.

"I suppose I'm not what you were expecting," he said tightly, and she saw his jaw clench as it had at Erwin's funeral.

(Y/N) stumbled forward, unable to speak, unable to think until she touched those scars for herself, until she saw that he was real— and then her hands were on either side of his face, her left thumb tracing the smallest scar on his right cheek, his warm, human, living cheek—

Until he swatted her hands away, his teeth grinding so hard that she could practically hear them.

"Don't touch me," he said, his eyes scrunching closed against the tears (Y/N) knew were pooling there. "If you— if you mean to leave— I can't bear it."

"You're alive," she whispered, voicing the only thought she could think. "Levi, you're— you're alive!'

(Y/N) knew what it meant to be in shock— she knew all the textbook signs and symptoms, knew exactly how to treat it in others— and yet knowing the clinical term for what was happening to her did not decrease its power over her body. Knowing did not diminish the tightness in her chest, the jittery, disconnected feeling she had. Knowing did not make it easier, and she began to tremble once more.

"Is that news to you?" he asked, watching as her own body rebelled against her wishes. "We won the war, if you can call it that. Why wouldn't I be alive?"

"Because…" (Y/N) couldn't think, she couldn't breathe, and Levi reached out to steady her as she swayed on her feet. "My father— he said— you were gone, and I thought— I never—"

She couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe.

"Oi, are you alright?" Levi asked, soft and concerned, and (Y/N) managed to take a shallow, hiccuping breath. He was alive— he was alive!

"My God, you're in shock," he muttered to himself, realization slowly dawning. "Sit down, bright-eyes, take a few deep breaths for me. That's it, just breathe."

(Y/N) was guided down onto a tree stump to sit, and Levi winced as he lowered himself to kneel before her.

"Your leg," she said, still fighting for breath. "You shouldn't sit on your—"

"Let me worry about that," he told her softly, tenderly, his hands coming to rest over hers. "You're unwell. Catch your breath and then scold me, brat."

At that, (Y/N) looked up and into his eyes, and she couldn't help but laugh. It was all too much, really— she giggled and giggled until her side began to cramp, and she laughed even more as Levi raised a brow without even a hint of amusement.

"Are you done?" Levi asked, as she wiped a tear from her eye.

"I think so," she replied, suddenly nauseous, but she willed herself not to be sick. "I'm sorry, I— I really thought you were dead, Levi, and now here you are, calling me a brat like you never left and I—"

Levi cut her off.

"Sorry," he said, glancing off to the side. "Old habits die hard. If that's not what you want, then—"

(Y/N) placed a hand on his cheek and guided his gaze back to hers.

"I'll always want that," she said softly. "I love you, Levi."

His eyes— one scarred and unseeing, the other gunmetal gray— widened.

"Don't tease me," he told her roughly once he'd come back to himself. "You father told me you had no more interest in seeing me— if that's the truth, this is torture for me. That's why I asked you not to touch me before."

Time stopped for (Y/N).

"My father told you what?"

Levi relayed his version of the events, and (Y/N) felt so many things at once that she could no longer keep track of them all.

"I never stopped loving you for an instant," Levi told her, "But it broke me, and when I saw that ad in the paper…"

His fists clenched. (Y/N) wanted those hands to hold her, to choke her, to curl around her shoulders and shake her— anything would be better than watching them ball in bitter anger.

"I was so angry, but I knew I had to have you."

"Oh Levi," she replied softly. "My father lied to you— to both of us. I went away to help treat victims of an epidemic, and when I came back, he told me you were dead. I mourned you, Levi Ackerman. You're the soldier I promised my hand to— how could I ever love anyone else ever again? And to think that you were my confidante all along with those letters! If only I’d told you more, if only I’d known your name— oh, I feel so foolish."

Levi huffed a breath, looking infinitely more exhausted than she had ever seen him. “You and me both. ”

Their eyes locked, and Levi reached up with his right hand to caress her cheek. (Y/N) leaned into the touch, and Levi kissed her softly, sweetly on the lips.

"I never thought I would do that again," he confessed, mingling their breaths. "I missed you, bright-eyes."

"Not half so much as I missed you," she replied, the nails of her hand scraping over the cropped hairs at the nape of her lover's neck. "Trapped in that house, I thought I would go mad. I only just managed to escape."

Levi's expression darkened.

"Were you held captive?" he asked, and (Y/N) swallowed.

"Yes."

Levi growled, but (Y/N) shushed him.

"It's over, and I don't want to talk about it right now," she said. "There will be time for anger later, but… right now, I just want to be with you. Is that too much to ask?"

At that, Levi scowled, about to protest, but then winced hard in pain. Frowning, (Y/N) stood and helped Levi to his feet.

"I told you not to sit on it," she scolded, and Levi tch-ed.

"I had bigger problems," he huffed. "You weren't breathing."

"Even in shock I'm kinder to your body than you are," she teased, slipping beneath his arm so that he could lean some of his weight on her. "What does that tell you?"

"That I need a little reminding of just how kind you can be to a body," he said with a good-natured leer.

His cheek earned him a light smack, but he looked no more sorry for it than a cat would be for stealing a fish from the market.

"So, Mr. Countryman," (Y/N) teased, her breath hot against his neck. "I hear you have a nice little cottage by a stream. Care to give me a tour?"

He huffed a laugh.

"Not going to keep running away?"

(Y/N) raised a brow.

"From you? Never. Besides, you have a lot of explaining to do about these companions of yours and what you've been doing since you came back besides writing naughty letters."

Levi rolled his eyes.

"They were hardly naughty—"

"They were deceptive, and deception is still lying—"

"(Y/N), honestly."

(Y/N) laughed at the desperate and yet somehow amused look he gave her, and as they slowly made their way down the trail through the woods, (Y/N) thought that she had never been happier in her life.

"Let's get you home," she said, a quiet sort of joy swelling in her breast to match the warmth of Levi's body against hers, "Then we'll worry about everything else."

***

“This living hand, now warm and capable

Of earnest grasping, would, if it were cold

And in the icy silence of the tomb,

So haunt thy days and chill thy dreaming nights

That thou would wish thine own heart dry of blood

So in my veins red life might stream again,

And thou be conscience-calm’d–see here it is–

I hold it towards you.”

~John Keats (This living hand, now warm and capable)

#aot x y/n #aot x reader #aot #aot fanfiction #levi x y/n #levi imagine #spoliers #ao3 #levi ackerman

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shotorozu · 3 years

Text

𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤

𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔰𝔬𝔲 𝔥𝔦𝔱𝔬𝔰𝔥𝔦 ᥊ 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: you find yourself in a bar that you and your ex used to go to regularly. the local bartender calls your ex- shinsou hitoshi; thinking you guys are still together.

𝗮𝗱𝗱𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝘀: angst to fluff (happy ending), sfw, pro hero au (aged up), drinking (alcohol mentions and intake) ex to lovers, minor todomomo (not the center of this fic) reader is in the top 5, some swearing.

𝗹𝗲𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗱: [Y/N = your name, L/N = last name, H/N = hero name, ] f! reader, quirk not mentioned.

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀: i also did this trope on ao3 with todomomo, so i better not see people think i plagiarized them because.. that’s literally me lol. also! i was very conflicted, bc i also wanted to do this with shouto but since I already have 2-3 fics in the making, i went with hitoshi (but let me know if you wanna see shouto’s version.)

word count to be added when im not sleep deprived

　　　　　　　　˚✧₊⁎⁎⁺˳✧༚

You swivel down another shot down your throat, not caring of the burn in your nose, nor do you care about the smell of the alcohol.

You’re never like this, this is not the best representation of yourself, no. This is not who you are as a person, and the way your former classmates look at you with concern when you chug down another shot shows how unusual this is to them.

“Take it easy..” Momo pats your back, and you exhale heavily, putting down the glass. Everyone is certain that you’ll obtain some serious hangover, almost to the point that you’d have to take the morning off to treat your hangover. They’re aware that you’re not this careless, since you're in the top 5 after all.

But they let you be momentarily, but why you may ask?

Because this is your way of coping a breakup with your boyfriend of 3 and a half years, Shinsou Hitoshi. They’re aware on how hurt you really are, and to be real- they were the ones that asked you to come out with them tonight to distract you.

“They’ve been going at it for a while, it’s almost concerning.” Tsuyu comments, as she tends to a slightly tipsy Mina, holding her so she doesn’t fall face first into the floor.

The least they could do is let you be, while you're not totally blacked out.

The local bartender- Maki, looks at you with concern when you order another shot, yet they still give it to you (with the slightest hesitation) since you’re such a good friend to her. (Your rank makes you very respectable, it’s almost intimidating! but your casual friend ship with the bar tender says other wise.)

But on the contrary, you'd know when you’ve reached the limit, and you’d probably know when they’d start refusing your requests of another shot.

One by one, their friends depart from the table, either they were too drunk to even handle it so they were brought home, or something came up- everyone could agree that they all had some sort of worry towards their dear friend’s very out of character coping mechanism.

“I have to go soon,” Momo sighs, when she receives a text from Todoroki- though it’s very obvious that she’s still very concerned for you, considering that she’s the only friend left. “Please take care of Y/N, Maki-san.”

Maki nods at your black haired friend, and the creation hero looks at you one last time before leaving the bar.

Lifting your head, your words are slurred as you request for another shot, which seems like the umpteenth time that you requested for a shot. The concerned bartender still attends to your needs, yet- she’s contemplating of calling someone if you ask for another.

Likewise, you finish that shot in a moment, and you slump down on the table. Eyelids fluttering slowly as your laughter is filled with intoxication, your cheeks are warm from being inebriated from the intake of alcohol.

You don’t notice how your concerned bartender dials up a number, requesting for them to pick your drunken state.

»»————-　➴　————-««

“Did you know the word bed is shaped like one?”

It’s now past midnight, and you’re mouthing off about something random, the train of thought is endless (but it’s more like a shower thought ramble.) Your fists are deep into your hair- holding your head up so it doesn't hit the table, meanwhile Maki paces back and forth- still tending to other requests from the very few customers left.

“Now that you’ve mentioned it, yeah.” They answer absentmindedly, “Man, I haven't seen you in nearly 4 months! it’s been a while. You knows how to hold your alcohol so frankly, this is the first time I’ve seen this side of you!”

“Oh really?” You slur, continuing on to spout out purposeless words.

The bartender’s response is a total blur, words turning into background noises, and a part of you is lucky to still be conscious and still functioning (yet it's barely)

“..But you hold it well for--”

You’re also very lucky that you’re a little too under the influence to even register the name.

You didn't know you’d take this breakup with him harshly. The most you were expecting was just.. crying while eating ice cream.

But no, it was an utter shit hole.

The door busts open, and the bartender’s expression seems to brighten up “Ah, there you are!”

You grumble, the bar’s lights causing your eyes to sting- and your head hurts too. You might need some aspirin later.. you close your eyes shut. The bartender is chatting with the unknown person, and frankly- you just wished you didn’t intoxicate yourself this much.

“Y/N,”

The baritone voice is almost sufficient in sobering you up. Turning to the familiar voice, you see the tall figure, sporting bedraggled purple hair.

It’s Shinsou Hitoshi. A reason why you’re in such a mess, coping with a breakup in the first place.

You almost fall off your chair in sudden revelation to the appearance of your ex lover. It was almost like.. your drunken state was making you see things- a possible hallucination maybe? it has to be that. Maybe it’s the side effect of the growing headache?? What was in that shot?

“Ugh, I must be crazy,” You wipe your cheek from slob, your head throbbing from the growing headache. The weary purple head raises an eyebrow, and the bartender is confused by the sudden tension. It's abnormal, alright.

The reason why you broke up was because of his lack of self care.

Again, it’s not like he was being a shithead and cheating on you, or being a total prick of a boyfriend and neglecting you, and it’s definitely not the other way around either.

It was probably the opposite. He'd neglect himself for days on end, not caring about himself, and not caring about his own being. It was.. not what you wanted at all.

You figured just because the both of you are rising up heroes, and also adults- he would’ve gotten a grip of not neglecting himself.

But even habits like that don’t get old.

“Hitoshi- seriously, when was the last time you’ve took a breather?” growing slightly irritated by Shinsou’s continuous neglect of his own self care, and also the fact that he’s clinging onto you 24/7.

“It doesn’t matter.” He shrugs, pinching your cheek. Heck, you should be glad he wants to be with you for the majority of the days. But you can’t tolerate him when he’s constantly complaining about being tired, although making little to no efforts in taking care of himself. Heck- his dark circles got even darker- how is that even possible?

“’Toshi, it really does. You can’t neglect self care.” Your brows furrow when he chooses to ignore your words. “You’re not listening to me.”

“You should be glad that I want to spend time with you.”

It stung. What the hell did he even mean by that..?? scoffing, and slightly offended, you reply “That’s not the main issue.” you cross your arms “We’ve talked about this before, remember?” You reason out, giving him the nice benefit of the doubt. You'd like to be civil here.

He ignores you once more, and you can actually feel the irritation grow within you. “I don’t want to be the reason why you neglect yourself.”

“I’m really not, okay?” He retorts back, “Why do you always have to bring up things that don't matter?”

Aggitated, you snap back “Wh- we’re talking about you! Hitoshi, we’ve talked about this- and you said you’d work on it! do my words mean nothing to you?” Hitoshi’s gaze flickers up, only staring at you, as if it was his own way of judging you and your intent.

And that’s how it erupted into a full fight, and into your eventual breakup.

You didn’t know how expressing your genuine concern for him blended into him saying things he’d never mean in his entire life. He doesn’t stop you when you walk out, not saying a thing at all

There was no verbal breakup. It was just.. there.

The unknowing bartender interrupts the nonverbal tension, “I thought you’d be a lot happier, y’know.”

“We-”

“..’ll get going now, thanks again.” Before you know it, Hitoshi’s hooking your arm around his shoulders— as he walks to the door, leaving the very familiar bar.

It’s awkward, surely. You’re not sure why he was there, and you’re not so sure as to why he decided to come to your aid in the first place. If Maki called him, and he was requested to come to you in question, then he could’ve just..

“..sent someone else,” You mumble. You reek heavily of alcohol, and your skin is undeniably warm. Frankly, he doesn’t remember the last time you were like this— was it the first time you had a drink? it was years back at this point.

You’re pretty.

Beautiful,

That’s one thing that hasn’t change. Surely, what changed things was the fact that he said some.. horrible things— and refused to even listen to your concerns, which ultimately cause your breakup. His relationship status changed into some lonely and young hero, and his heart ached in different ways.

But you’re still very beautiful, to him.

Doesn’t matter if you’re all dolled up for a hero interview, or a mess on a off saturday. You’re still beautiful.

But now— he’s focused on your words, and he’s taken aback when you continue to speak, causing the both of you to stop in the middle of the sidewalk.

“You’ve coulda asked s-someone else to pick.. me up.” Your words are slurred, a normal side effect of being drunk. However, seeing your ex has surely sobered you up.

“That’s true,” Shinsou moves to continue walking, so you guys weren’t standing on the middle of the side walk on a cold early morning.

“What are you even doing at a bar at 1am?” He changes the subject, but you’re still caught on to your previous question. “You didn’t answer my question at all, meanie.” Her grip is firm, so there’s no way of budging it.

His laugh lacks humor, yet he feels obligated to answer her. Or else they’d be stuck on the sidewalk, due to her hero grip.

“It didn’t feel right,”

“Yeah sure.” You grumble, “Because you suddenly care.”

“I’ve always cared, Y/N.”

“Really?” You say, not really believing him anyway. “You seemed pretty sure with your words back then to care.” Despite being toxicated, your words have undertones of venom

“You may say that, but.. I’ve always cared.”

“Then why the hell did you say all of that back then, huh?” Overwhelmed by seeing your ex, who you still fucking loved by the way— tears grow at your eyes. “If you’re lying, stop it.” You say, literally not in the mood to be lied to right now.

You’re literally being carried by your ex, while intoxicated, while also having a throbbing headache.

“I’m not.” Hitoshi answers firmly. A certain edge grows in his throat, and he hates it.

“Yes you are,” Your voice is now wobbly, it’s really just a mix of your overwhelming emotion, as well as your drunken state. “You would’ve told me that weeks ago!”

You were always right, and he knows it. Ever since from the last moment you shared with him, your words were just.. nothing but the sheer truth. Yet, he’s only hurt you— because of his denial.

He knows you’re right, and he knows that he had his habits of neglecting his own care. Though that’s why he decided to change, that you were in fact- correct all this time.

And he was just an ass to even admit it.

“You’re right,” His fists crumple, grip tight as he fights his sudden urge to break. “You were always right. I’ve always cared, and you’ve always cared about me. Yet I was worried of changing, not being around you just so that I could take care of something that’s not really important-”

“But you are, Hitoshi,” You sob, nearly collapsing onto the ground— “You matter so much, yet you don’t even see it, and if I’m going to contribute to your destructive ways— then...”

“How could you? If you don’t care about my words, then do you care about yourself..?”

Shinsou sighs, bending down to meet your level— you’re gasping and sobbing into his chest, tears angrily running down your cheeks.

“I know, kitten, and I’m sorry.” Wiping your tears with his thumb, he speaks once more. “That’s why.. I’ve thought about what you’ve said, and I decided to take care of myself a bit more, I want you to know that.. I do care.”

You glance up at him, the city lights luminating his face— enough for you to see the adorning expression he’s sporting.

“..really?” You speak, in a nearly hush tone, again— you’re still very drunk, and overwhelmed with emotions. This could’ve been passed off as a fever dream, and you could’ve been normal with it.

“Yes, Y/N.” His mouth perks up into a small smile.

“Then.. would you allow me to start over with you again?”

Pushing against Hitoshi, you envelope him with your arms— it’s almost cliché and dramatic, the way you collapse into his arms like it’s the last day on earth.

But.. Shinsou’s glad he has you again. Finally a chance to prove that he’s changed.

ーーーーーーー

BONUS

You sit on the counter of your apartment, hands covering your face— as a way to shield your eyes from the prodding sunlight that peaks from the windows.

“This should help,” Hitoshi hands you a cool glass of water, “The way you hold your alcohol is terrible,” You chug down the glass of water, and you take a jab at him with your feet.

He hisses at the sudden attack, and only chuckles, “You’re mad because it’s true kitten,” He teases

“Shut up,” You draw him in with your leg, setting the glass down, “Just kiss me already,”

And so he does, pressing your lips against his— savoring the sweet warm moment he’s been practically starved of for nearly 4 months.

He pulls back, his expression showcasing that he’s tasting the aftermath.

“Ew, you taste like beer.”

You glare at him, and take another light jab, “Of course I do, Idiot.”

Despite saying all of that, he pulls you in once more.

　　　　　　　˚✧₊⁎❝᷀ົཽ ❝᷀ົཽ⁎⁺˳✧༚

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading (literally the first fic i’ve ever posted, so y’all BETTER like it or i’ll 💀)

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing

do not plagiarize my work :)) (literally don’t, it’s 3:26am on a tuesday.)

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flyinghome-againstthewind · 3 years

Text

the best by far is you: chapter 17

Read on AO3

Previous Chapter

For all the things my hands have held, the best by far is you - Cecilia and the satellite

————

Summary: An exploration of Claire & Jamie’s story if their firstborn had lived and they had the chance to be parents together of wee Faith Fraser before the Battle of Culloden.

Chapter 17

Edinburgh

June 1746

Edinburgh proved difficult to search. One lone carriage was hardly something of note for residents of Edinburgh, and that besides, Claire was quite certain this was where that particular journey had ended. They had no way of knowing where in the city Jamie and Faith would’ve gone once they’d arrived. So they checked every tavern, inn, and boarding house they could find, hoping they weren’t too late, that Jamie and Faith hadn’t moved on to some other place.

It was once again the horse, of all things, that gave them hope.

They were walking through a bustling market when Fergus stopped so abruptly in front of Claire that she nearly knocked him over. “Fergus, what are you‒”

His gaze was frozen on something ahead. “It’s Donas, Milady.”

“What?”

He didn't wait another second and surged forward into the crowd, leaving Claire and Murtagh to scramble after him. When they caught up to him, they were both brought almost nose-to-nose with a black horse that was unmistakable to them.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ,” Claire whispered tightly, eyes widening at the sight before her. Donas was tucked back into a stall just off the busy street, but his head swung curiously over the wooden gate.

She glanced about, trying to get her bearings. If Donas was here, then‒

“Get back!”

The three of them startled at the sharp voice, Claire’s hand flying to Fergus’s shoulder as if that could shield him. Off to their right, a man had appeared ‒ a blacksmith by trade if his gritty, grimy appearance was any indication. “Unless ye want tae lose a hand. That beast is the devil’s own.”

Donas reared back suddenly, as if he understood and took offense. Claire was used to the horse’s attitude, but his timing always was something else, she thought. The blacksmith only took this as confirmation of what he’d just said, nodding sharply toward the horse with wide-eyed suspicion.

“See? He kens it.”

“That is not‒” Fergus began. Claire squeezed his shoulder.

“Please, can you tell us where we might find the owner of this horse?”

The blacksmith’s gaze shifted over the three of them, considering. Finally, he folded his arms over his chest and leveled a withering gaze at Claire. “Ye’re lookin’ at ‘im.”

“What?” She balked. Her gaze flew back to Donas, looking him over more discerningly. It had to be him. Then…?

“When did you acquire him?”

“I dinna see why ye need tae know.”

It was clear the man was growing tired of them, but before Claire could respond, Murtagh had fired back a reply. “I dinna see what harm there is in answering the lass.”

The blacksmith hardly concealed his annoyance but threw his hands up in defeat. “If it’ll make ye leave. A man brought him ‘round last week and sold him to me‒”

Claire felt her breath leave her lungs in a rush. A week ago. They’d never been this close before. A light, buoyant feeling filled her.

“‒ under false pretenses, mind. Tha’ horse was docile as a wee lamb when he brought ‘im here. Soon as he’s gone, I was dealing wi’ a demon.”

“Maybe you should‒”

Whatever Fergus was about to say, Claire was certain it wouldn’t have been flattering. And she needed more from this conversation still.

“Last question and then we’re out of your hair.” She felt an odd flutter in her stomach at the thought of what answers they might be able to walk away with. “What can you tell me about the man who sold you the horse?”

They’d come to stay so long in Edinburgh that Faith’s understanding of “home” was beginning to solidify around the place they’d resided there: Mary’s aunt’s house. And while the streets were still crawling with soldiers, Jamie had gone so long without incident or recognition that the wariness was fading each time he stepped outside.

Mary's aunt had been hospitable in opening her home to Jamie and Faith when they arrived with Mary, though Jamie got the distinct impression that she wasn't exactly thrilled with this arrangement, given that she knew he was a Scot.

Still, it was a safe haven while they waited for sea passage to open up again.

Jamie entered the house, lugging his bundle of purchases, and was almost immediately greeted by Faith's high-pitch squeal from the other room. He paused, wondering if it was a squeal of excitement or some sort of fit.

There was a bustle of movement up ahead from the parlor and then Faith tumbled out into the hallway, tripping on the hem of her dress. It was new to her, an old dress belonging to one of Mary's cousins, and they were adjusting it for Faith.

"Da!"

Happy squeal, then.

He grinned broadly and dropped to one knee as Faith toddled over to him, nearly tripping again as she reached him. "Did ye behave for yer Auntie Mary, then?"

She didn't respond to him, only looped her slight arms around his neck and started to hang from him, giggling all the while.

"Alright then, ye wee fiend," he laughed, scooping her up as he moved to stand.

By now, Mary had appeared at the threshold and greeted him before they all moved into the parlor. Jamie noted that none of the other inhabitants of the house were in the room and breathed a sigh of relief. He was abundantly grateful to be able to keep Faith sheltered here, but he had no great desire for the company of near strangers ‒ especially those who looked down their nose at him.

“I’ve had a letter from my father,” Mary announced.

“Aye?”

“He’s sending my younger brother to escort me back to my father’s estate.”

Jamie nodded at that, though he wasn’t sure how he should feel. “And how did he take yer news?”

“Oh quite well,” Mary said swiftly. “I knew he would. Of course he wishes I wasn’t so recently widowed, since he’ll have to make arrangements for me to be married again. But there’s no shame in being widowed and with child.”

Jamie took a deep breath, ready to dive in on that comment, but thought better of interfering in her family matters and bit his tongue instead.

“Find everything you were looking for?” Mary asked.

“Oh aye.” Jamie pulled out the fresh ginger he’d purchased. There had been a number of items he’d needed to prepare for the upcoming voyage, but none quite so important as the very thing he held up for Mary to see. “For my seasickness,” he explained and then grinned ruefully. “Canna seem to so much as set foot on a ship wi’out getting sick.”

“Is it bad?”

“It’s no’ a pretty sight, I’m sure.”

“What will you do with Faith?”

Jamie’s gaze dropped to Faith in his lap and he swallowed roughly. “I dinna have much choice but to pray the ginger tea keeps me standing. I canna afford to get sick.”

Mary fell silent at that, her hands fidgeting restlessly in her lap.

But he knew even without her saying it that it was a foolish endeavor. He knew how sick he became on sea voyages and without anyone else with them, he ran the risk of becoming too sick to care for his child. But what other choice did he have?

“I could go with you.”

Mary’s words were spoken so softly, he almost didn’t catch them. His head snapped up and he stared at her. “You canna be serious.”

“Of course I’m serious!”

“It’s‒ I mean no offense to ye, Mary. It’s only… well, yer brother is already on his way and‒”

“That’s not a problem. I’ll just leave word here with my aunt telling him where we’ve gone. He can follow after and escort me back, same as he intended before.”

“That hardly seems fair to him. How old is the lad?”

Mary hesitated briefly. “George is fifteen, he’s old enough.”

Jamie swore under his breath. “We dinna even know where we’re headed yet. Could be as far as the colonies. And even if ye did accompany us on the journey and instructed yer wee brother to follow us… by time he arrives, ye willna be fit to make the journey again wi’ the bairn coming. You’ll have to have the baby in another country, alone.”

“I’ll be alone no matter where I am,” Mary pointed out and Jamie immediately regretted his words. “Doesn’t matter if I’m in Italy or France, the colonies or my father’s estate.”

Jamie sighed. “I still dinna like the idea. Ye’re finally safe here and under no obligation to help us further. I’m already indebted to ye for getting us this far. No, I couldna ask that of ye.”

“Good thing you didn’t ask then.” Mary straightened her spine. “And it’s… it’s me who’s indebted to you. If you hadn’t come to Inverness, I’d still be‒”

Jamie raised a hand in silent pleading. After all they’d been through since he’d knocked on her door in Inverness, there simply was no keeping score of how they’d aided one another. And he valued her friendship too highly to think of it as mere transactions.

He sighed loudly, hating the idea but seeing that determined look in Mary’s eye.

“Besides,” Mary added, “I’m not really doing this for you.”

He smiled cheerlessly, once again turning his gaze back to the red-headed toddler in his lap. For Claire, she’d said at the start. And it had never escaped his notice just how much Mary risked to repay Claire’s kindness, her friendship. “Well, I thank ye for it. Truly. Ye’re a good friend, Mary Hawkins.”

The evenings were always bittersweet in Edinburgh. It meant putting Faith to bed, a small routine that they’d carved out no matter where they were, and a time that Jamie always treasured. And it also meant once his child was asleep that there was nothing to preoccupy his mind, to keep his anguished thoughts at bay.

But before then, his complete attention was always on Faith.

“C’mere, lass.”

He scooped her up and headed toward the nursery where Faith slept. He felt her head rest heavy on his shoulder as they went, and her small hand patted his opposite shoulder gently.

He was helping her change into her nightgown when she sneezed. Three times in quick succession.

“Something tickling yer nose, a nighean?” he said lightly, though his hand went to her forehead and tried to gauge her temperature. Felt normal, but there was a small voice in the back of his mind ‒ Claire’s voice ‒ reminding him that unless the fever was very high, it was often hard to discern if someone had a fever by merely feeling for it.

Faith rubbed her nose with the back of her pudgy hand and looked up at him with glassy eyes. “Christ, I hope ye’re not sick.”

He took her wee face in his hands and pressed a kiss to her hairline, then rested his cheek there for a moment. She felt a little warm, but did that mean…?

Faith’s little hands wormed their way between them and pushed his face away. “No’ sick.”

He chuckled and pulled back, startled by her boldness, her certainty. A pint-sized force of nature, even if she was ‒ perhaps ‒ feeling under the weather.

But God in Heaven! He wished Claire was here for this. For all of it with Faith, but especially this. She would know better than him what to do if Faith got sick.

“Ye ready for bed then?”

She shook her head vehemently. “No’ yet, Da.”

“Not yet?”

Again, she shook her head, this time with a hint of a smile on her face. The more she learned to talk, the better she became at delaying her dreaded bedtime. She burst into a flood of speech ‒ not much of which was intelligible to Jamie, but she had something to say nonetheless ‒ which ended promptly with the word “story.”

“Ah. Ye’ll be wanting yer bedtime story then, is tha’ it?”

A curt nod from Faith.

“Aye, I can oblige ye there, mo chridhe.”

He stood and watched Faith scurry over to the small bed that was all her own. As was their nightly ritual, he situated Faith off to one side and pulled the covers up for her before carefully easing his six-foot-four frame onto the comically small bed, curled onto his side with his feet hanging over the ledge. A gentle breeze could’ve knocked him backwards off of the bed, but this was what he’d done the first night in this strange house when Faith had been too scared to sleep alone. Now, she slept well enough so long as he was there to tuck her in, give her a story. Once she was asleep, he would move her more towards the center of the bed before he left and retired to his own room.

“What story would ye like tonight, a nighean?”

“My mam?”

He exhaled a laugh. They were always about Faith’s mam. Even while he worried that Faith would never truly know Claire, it couldn’t stop him from wanting to talk about her to Faith. To help her understand the magnitude of Claire’s love for her, and that it wasn’t Claire’s fault that she wasn’t here now with Faith.

“Aye, I can tell ye about yer mam,” Jamie agreed softly. He started as he always did ‒ with a memory of Claire, whatever came to him in the moment. And he’d simply talk for as long as Faith needed, weaving one memory into another until he noticed her eyelids getting heavy, her breathing slowing to a steady rhythm.

“Ken yer mother was verra canny,” he prefaced his next story, slipping subconsciously into past-tense when he spoke of Claire. “What she didna ken about healing could fit in a shoe. After the Battle of Prestonpans, I was so weary and hurting ‒ got stepped on by a horse that day, ye ken, and och yer mam was furious wi’ me ‒ but I came back into the cottage to watch her, tending to the injured men. She was tireless and so determined…”

When Faith was finally out, he reached over and felt her forehead again, battling a sinking feeling that Faith truly was coming down with an illness. She’d been sniffling and sneezing, but that could be nothing. Or it could be the first sign of something more.

“A Dhia…”

He ached for Claire every minute of the day ‒ needed her like the very breath in his lungs ‒ but he’d never felt so wretchedly helpless without her until this moment. What would he do if Faith became sick?

Panic squeezed his heart in a vice grip. She was all he had now. Faith, still so wee and fragile, was the only thing keeping Jamie from careening off into the dark. And suddenly, he wasn’t even sure he could do this on his own.

He wanted to steal away back to the stones with Faith, to find some way to fix this. She should be with Claire ‒ she should’ve always been with Claire ‒ and it wasn’t right that they had been separated. That Faith couldn’t travel like her mother could.

Since he was a lad, he had a habit of speaking to his departed brother, Willie. Since Willie had been the oldest, he rightly should’ve been laird. So much of Jamie’s life growing up had been the result of Willie’s death. Honors that would normally befall the oldest son passed to Jamie instead, like fostering with his Uncle Dougal or continuing his studies in Paris. This had always been front of mind for Jamie, and when faced with a decision as Laird, he found it only respectful of Willie’s memory to ask his older brother’s thoughts on choices that should’ve been his to make.

Aye, the dead had a way of living with Jamie. He hadn’t only talked to Willie, but to the plovers along the shore, which legend said carried the souls of young mothers lost in childbirth. And he’d done this for years before he lost his da, but never once in the time since Brian Fraser’s death had he spoken to his father.

But suddenly, he found himself longing to pour his heart out to his departed father, in conversations he’d been too hesitant to have with the weight of Jamie’s misplaced guilt over Brian’s death. Suddenly, more than anything, he ached for one last conversation with his da.

“How did ye do it, Athair?” he whispered in the still room the question that had been plaguing him. He was intimately familiar with the pain his father would’ve suffered when his mam died. “How did you keep on living wi’out yer heart?”

The answer was there before him in the sleeping form of Faith. His father had survived for his and Jenny’s sakes, carried them through their grief and gave them hope. And though it felt impossible, though everything within him screamed that this wasn’t how it was supposed to be, Jamie would do the same for Faith as his father did for him. “I ken now the pain ye were trying to hide, Athair. But ye raised me and Jenny well despite it all. Help me do the same.”

His hand gently brushed over Faith’s wispy curls as he then addressed his sleeping child. “I’ve told ye plenty about yer mam, but nothing of my mam and da. We’ll need tae remedy that. Another time.”

He breathed in deep and then sighed heavily. “My da only ever kent me as a lad. Sometimes I wonder… if he saw me as I am today, would he be proud of me now? Would he approve of who I’ve become? And would I be much different from who I was before... or would he still recognize me as his son?”

His thumb softly stroked at her hair just above her temple before tucking a few wayward locks behind one tiny ear. “But I look at ye, Faith, and… there’s nothing ye could do that would ever change how I love ye. How I’m bursting at the seams with pride o’er ye. And that’s one thing I ken my da would’ve been very proud of,” he shifted slowly and pressed a kiss to Faith’s head before he finally stood, “My bairns.”

It had been a week since they’d found Donas and they still didn’t have a crumb of information for where Jamie and Faith might be.

“Would it have been better to wait at Lallybroch in case he sent word? Before we went trampling across the country in search of him…” Claire wondered aloud.

“That would have taken months to wait for news to arrive.” Murtagh eyed her protruding belly, just starting to appear noticeable to others under all her layers of clothing. “Ye dinna have that kind of time to wait around.”

Claire sighed. “Aren’t we just waiting here, until we find a trace of him? Doesn’t feel much different.”

Murtagh didn’t reply, just made that Scottish sound low in the throat and eased into a chair.

There was a boyish shout from outside and Claire’s gaze flickered over to the window. Fergus was out in the street with another boy, playing some sort of game. She’d told him to go run some energy off after he’d been driving her up a wall all afternoon within the cramped confines of their rented room. They’d had no lead on Jamie even after finding Donas and that had hit Fergus hard. But even worse had been walking away without the horse that Fergus had loved so dearly ‒ all the time wondering why Jamie had sold him in the first place.

“What if they’re already gone from here? How long do we wait ‒ how long can we wait before the money is gone?”

They’d had no collateral of their own to offer up for the horse and even though they had some money ‒ money that they’d carefully skimped and saved during their journey before arriving in Edinburgh ‒ it wouldn’t last forever.

Murtagh grunted softly again. He’d heard her, he just didn’t have an answer.

Claire had even tried offering her services as a healer here when they first arrived. But Edinburgh was a bustling Lowland city, not a remote Highland village, and where those small populations would flock to Claire, the people of Edinburgh turned their nose up at her ‒ a strange woman they had no cause to trust or even to need in a large city such as this. So even the small hope of word getting out to Jamie of a Sassenach woman healer had quickly been dashed.

Her gaze sought out Fergus again and her heart sank in her chest. She wasn’t sure how much more disappointment they could shoulder before it became all too much. Or how much longer they could search before the only obvious solution was to turn home for Lallybroch.

Her hand fell to her belly. Murtagh was right about that at least. They didn’t have all that much time before there would be a baby to consider as well.

The ports had reopened in Edinburgh ‒ but not without British control over what came in and out of the harbor. The sale of Donas helped provide enough to book passage on a ship, but they’d had to be careful in arranging it. Jamie had begun to notice the new broadsheets going up around Edinburgh and among them, one for Red Jamie. No doubt as the dust from Culloden began to settle, his disappearance hadn’t gone completely unnoticed.

He had followed the captain of a cargo ship recently docked in Edinburgh into a tavern one night. The captain ‒ a Scot through and through ‒ and Jamie swapped tales over drinks well into the night and only once he was sure the good captain had been plied with enough drink to make him amiable did he bring up the request to book passage with him.

“Ye dinna even ken where we’re going,” the captain laughed, his cheeks ruddy from drink.

Jamie laughed too, though he realized he’d made a misstep. That it might sound more suspicious now than if he’d learned of the destination first. Instead he tried to play it off as being cavalier. “Tell ye the truth… it doesna really matter where ye’re going, so long as it’s away from here.”

The captain chuckled and shook his head. They negotiated the price and sealed the deal there at that tavern table. “Write yer names down for me. I’ll have them added to the ship’s manifest. We sail in three days. Dinna be late.”

“And where are we sailing for?” Jamie finally asked.

“Och I thought it didna matter!” The captain roared with laughter again and Jamie reminded himself he couldn’t strike the captain that was giving him a way out of Scotland.

The captain stood to his feet, a bit wobbly at first try. Jamie thought of Mary and how she planned to leave a letter for her brother to be able to follow. How could he follow if he didn’t know where they went?

He opened his mouth to speak, but the captain clapped him hard on the shoulder and said, “Le Havre, man. We’re only going so far as Le Havre.”

In three days’ time, Jamie, Mary, and Faith were at the docks ‒ Jamie with his hair recently dyed black to cover his roots and Faith with her red hair tucked under a bonnet and then the hood of her cape as a precaution.

They would need to be allowed past by the Redcoat checking the ship’s manifest, the only hurdle standing between them and freedom. And having spoken with the captain that night in the tavern, they couldn’t fall back on their old gimmick of Jamie-as-a-mute. But this was a calculated risk he knew he would take, hoping that the time and miles between here and Culloden would be enough to shed any suspicion that he might be Red Jamie.

“Name?”

He met the eye of the Redcoat staring him down. “Alexandre Beauchamp,” he said evenly, letting a little bit of his admittedly imperfect French accent bleed into his thick Highlander dialect in hopes that it would at least confuse him. Off the surprised look from the man, he added with an easy smile, “I get that look a lot. My father was a Frenchman but my mother a Scot. Ye can see for yerself which side I favored in looks.” He could hide the red hair, but the towering height, the build of a man descended from Vikings… that could not be so easily hidden.

“And your companions?”

“My daughter, Faith Beauchamp, and Mary Hawkins.”

The man’s gaze flicked between Jamie and Mary, and though Jamie’s heart felt as though it might beat right out of his chest, this conversation was flowing exactly as he’d anticipated. They were almost through.

“And your relation to Mistress Hawkins?”

“My late wife’s sister. She’s accompanying me to care for my child.” It wasn’t terribly far from the truth ‒ and it was a necessity now to be able to explain why Faith called her Auntie Mary.

“And your reason for journeying to Le Havre?”

“My father’s family is there. My grandfather is in poor health and I must return.”

The Redcoat looked him in the eye again and Jamie knew what question came next. “And are you a Jacobite or have you ever aided the Jacobites in any way, Mr. Beauchamp?”

“No.” He was met with a look of vague suspicion and he mustered every ounce of easy confidence into next words. “I am not nor have I ever been a Jacobite, or a Jacobite sympathizer for that matter. And I never aided their cause in any way. I am loyal to the crown.”

The Redcoat quirked one eyebrow at that and Jamie felt his stomach twisting into knots. “They all say that… now.”

But with a quick jerk of his head, the Redcoat dismissed them. Jamie blinked, stunned for a moment that it had been that easy. Because even without proof… the Redcoats could have treated him any way they wanted. That was their claim as victors. They didn’t need a reason to not let him through and that had been the one variable Jamie couldn’t have planned for ‒ the mercy of a Redcoat.

He shifted Faith to one arm and moved past the man, ushering Mary ahead of him up the gangway to the ship.

“Sir! Wait.”

He froze, hearing the Redcoat’s voice ring out. Mary stopped too and whirled around to look back at him. His hold on Faith tightened and he turned slowly.

The Redcoat stared at him curiously.

Jamie forced a smile. “Have I forgotten something?”

“As a matter of fact…” the man held out his hand. In his palm was Sawny, which Jamie had given to Faith to keep her occupied. She must’ve dropped it.

“Ah. I thank ye, Corporal.” He grabbed Sawny and handed it back to Faith. “I would’ve had a verra unhappy child on my hands had that been left behind.”

He wasted no time waiting for a response and turned with Faith to head back up the gangway where Mary still stood. “Let’s go,” he uttered under his breath when they reached her. The sooner they could be at sea, the safer he would feel.

What he hadn’t expected to feel was the loss.

He held Faith in his arms as he stood by the railing and watched Edinburgh fade farther and farther away. Watched his homeland fade away, knowing they’d likely never return.

“Christ,” he muttered, blinking fast against the unexpected sting of tears.

Faith stretched her arm out in front of her, towards land, and waved.

“Ye saying goodbye, a leannan?”

“G’bye,” she echoed in a soft, song-like voice.

Ah but he would do it all again in a heartbeat for her, no matter the cost. It was always for her, for her wellbeing and chance at a happy life.

She grinned up at him ‒ not a trace of sickness, though they’d dealt with the sneezing and runny nose for a few days before she was back to her usual self. “Ken you’re mine, a nighean, but ye dinna have to rub my nose in it that yer stomach is as hearty as a sailor’s,” he teased her before moving below deck, where Mary was waiting. His stomach was already rolling and it was only a matter of time…

July 1746

Claire was writing a letter to Jenny ‒ an update without much news, but she still wanted to keep Jenny apprised ‒ when Murtagh burst into the room, startling her violently.

“Jesus Christ!”

Without giving her much time to recover, he dove breathlessly into the reason for his unsettling arrival.

“I just spoke with a deckhand down at the docks, just come back from Le Havre.” Murtagh’s eyes were aglow and Claire tried to temper the hope buoying in her chest. “He said he remembers someone that looked like Jamie who booked passage on the ship last time they came through here. Said he was sick as a dog the whole trip… and he had a wee lass with him.”

Claire was trembling and her simple question came out in a frantic whisper. “When?”

Murtagh smiled broadly, his chest still heaving as he tried to get the words out without stopping for a breath. “Just last month. They’re in France, a nighean. We found them.”

She hardly recalled how she went from sitting at the desk to being wrapped up in an almost painful hug from Murtagh, shouting with joy to keep herself from bursting into tears.

“What’s going on?”

She pulled away from Murtagh to see Fergus enter the room, concern etched into his face.

“What happened?” he asked.

Claire couldn’t keep the smile from her face even as her vision misted over with tears. Not just for her joy of being reunited with Jamie and Faith, but for Fergus’s as well. “Murtagh found them, love. We’re going home!”

When Fergus ran to embrace her, she nearly stumbled backwards from the impact of it. She cupped the back of his head and held him tight, rocking slightly.

“We’re going home.”

“D’ye have everything then, Mary?”

“I believe so.”

Jamie turned to help Mary up into the carriage. Upon arriving in France, they’d gone first to Jamie’s Uncle Alexander at the Abbey of Ste. Anne de Beaupré, that being the closest and safest place to turn to. Jamie and Faith meant to stay on at the abbey a bit longer, but Mary needed to return to Paris, to her aunt and uncle who would welcome her into their home until her younger brother arrived.

“Wait. No. I did forget something in my room.” Mary turned and stepped down from the carriage. “I’ll be right back,” she yelled over her shoulder.

“It’s alright, lass. We have time.”

“Jamie!”

He turned to find his uncle exiting the abbey, making a path towards him. “Aye?”

“We’re expecting a delivery to the abbey today. Could you help them unload when it arrives?”

“Aye of course.”

It wasn’t long after his uncle had left him that he noticed the wagon jolting down the dirt road towards the abbey.

Nobody saw what spooked the horse pulling the wagon as it neared the carriage.

It happened too fast, the one horse trying to buck itself free of the wagon, and the team of horses hitched to the carriage panicking as a result.

One moment, Jamie was standing beside a carriage and the next, he was flat on his back with a searing pain in his leg and a crushing weight pinning his body down.

And then it all went black.

#jamie x claire #outlander #outlander fic #faith fraser #tbbfiy #the best by far is you #my fic #OL fic

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theimmaterialplace · 3 years

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i’ll give you all you want if you just ask | spencer reid x f!reader | ch. 1 of 2: all i need

Summary: It doesn’t take a profiler to notice that Spencer Reid is nervous around you. Half of the team finds it funny and the other half just ignores it. What you don’t know is why. Well, you have an idea but you’d rather not be wrong in your deduction and make a fool of yourself and make him just avoid you completely.

See, it’s not that you just make him nervous, it’s that you make him excited. He perks up every time you enter a room and shoots you a shy smile, never making eye contact. He shivers any time you accidentally, or purposefully because you can’t help yourself, brush against him. He follows your lead eagerly and without complaint, able to connect the pieces you’ve put together. Perhaps the most damning piece of evidence is the way he reacts to your praise.

Oh, how his reactions always excite you.

Contains: hints of light dom/sub undertones, teasing, praise kink. no actual smut yet, just a bit of kissing and allusions to sex. enabler!hotch.

Word Count: 1.7k

Comments: hello im back this very self indulgent fic! i just love sub!spencer to pieces and there aren't enough fics with him featuring that so i'm here to remedy that! also just assume rossi had a date or something and couldn't make it! i'd say this takes place before a bit before the reaper arc! also i fucking adore hotch and HAD to make him an enabler because he just wants his team to be happy!! he cares for them!! if you’d rather read this on ao3, here’s the link! finally, leave a comment/review so ik how yall feel! reblogs are also highly appreciated! :)

It doesn’t take a profiler to notice that Spencer Reid is nervous around you. Half of the team finds it funny and the other half just ignores it. What you don’t know is why . Well, you have an idea but you’d rather not be wrong in your deduction and make a fool of yourself and make him just avoid you completely.

See, it’s not that you just make him nervous, it’s that you make him excited . He perks up every time you enter a room and shoots you a shy smile, never making eye contact. He shivers any time you accidentally, or purposefully because you can’t help yourself, brush against him. He follows your lead eagerly and without complaint, able to connect the pieces you’ve put together. Perhaps the most damning piece of evidence is the way he reacts to your praise.

Oh, how his reactions always excite you.

You’d conducted an experiment over the past few months. At first, you had given him compliments such as “I like your outfit today” or “good work on today’s case”, harmless things. He had reacted as well as you expected, blushing the tiniest bit and muttering a thank you in response.

Next, you decided to take a page out of Morgan’s book and call him pretty boy which eventually turned into a whole slew of nicknames revolving around praising him. The first time you had called him pretty boy, he had burned his mouth because he gulped his coffee too quickly. His face was a bright red and he was incapable of meeting your eyes for the rest of the day. As it was, that was a great reaction but your favorite had to be the time you called him a good boy. He had looked up at you with wide eyes and his pupils had dilated so much that you barely saw his original eye color. Now that should’ve been enough to confirm your beliefs but you decided to take it a step farther.

The most recent trial had you calling him your boy, a possessive indicator. There was no hiding your intentions with this one so you made sure to only call him that in private; no need for the team to know. It seemed like no matter how many times you called him yours, one way or another, it still had the same effect on him.

With this information, you had no doubt that Spencer was interested in you and seemed to lean on the sub side of things. It was cute. He was cute. He was just your type in men. You loved nothing more than a man who was intellectual and would let you take control, which you had no doubt Spencer would allow.

It’s on a Saturday night when everyone decides to get drinks, a rare occasion, that you decide to make a move. Well, you’re actually encouraged to by someone you would least expect.

“So, when do you plan on making a move on Spencer?” It takes everything in you not to choke on the fruity drink you were sipping on when Hotch speaks up. You turn your head to look at him and find him staring at you with a smug, knowing look on his face.

“I’d say I have no idea what you’re talking about, but that’d be a lie and also an insult to you.” A small grin creeps onto his face with your response. It’s nice to see him so relaxed because god only knows how much your boss deserves to let loose every once in a while.

“Hm, you’re avoiding the question. Don’t tell me that all those pet names and touches were for nothing.” It’s a good thing you’re lightly buzzed because otherwise you’d feel completely mortified over the revelation that your boss had picked up on your actions. As you are now though, you can only let out a laugh and smile sharply at his remark.

“Course not, Hotch. As for an answer to your question,” you pause and look across the bar to where he’s laughing at something Penelope said, “I think it won’t be too long now. He’s just so… receptive .” He only hums, taking another sip of what you think is whiskey.

“Well don’t take too long.” And perhaps it’s his encouragement or just the liquid courage but you decide that now is a good time to get your boy. You excuse yourself quietly and give Hotch a small wave which he returns with a small smirk on his face.

When you finally reach Spencer, it’s to him saying goodbye to the rest of the team.

“Come on, stay for a bit longer. We’ll have a fun time. We always do.” Derek might be able to convince him if he keeps going on like this so you decide to interrupt.

“Hey, guys!” Everyone turns to look at you and they all clammer to ask you how you’ve been, giving Spencer the out he needed.

“So, what were you talking about with the boss man? I saw some very interesting expressions over there, babe.” Penelope has a sly grin on her face as the rest of the team “oohs” at her statement.

“Oh, just a little bit of this, little bit of that. Don’t tell me you thought I was flirting with him…” at this, their shoulders drop a little, “Oh my god, come on, you guys! As if I’d flirt with Hotch. You guys though…. You’re all free real estate.” You wink at them in good fun.

“You’re almost as bad as Derek with your flirting, you know that?” Emily takes a sip of her drink and JJ nods, agreeing with her completely.

“Now, there’s no need to insult me like that, ladies. At least I take my flirting seriously. When was the last time you even got laid?” You can feel Spencer’s eyes on you so you decide not to answer.

“I plead the fifth!” This gets you a round of laughs and you decide now is a good time to tell them you’re leaving and start your plan.

“Well, I’m glad everyone is having a good time but I really gotta go,” this earns you a round of “boos”, “I know. I know. Sure it may be old lady behavior but I have plans tomorrow morning. You guys have fun for me though!”

JJ speaks up, “Oh, since you’re leaving right now, would you mind taking Spencer home? I was going to give him a ride since the metro is closed tonight but you’re already leaving so I figured why not?” You only nod while internally you can’t help but think this is going even more perfectly than you originally thought.

You look over to Spencer who’s already looking at you. “You okay with that, pretty boy?” He nods and even with the lighting of the club, you can recognize his cheeks flushing.

You turn back to the rest of them to address them,“Well, goodnight guys! Be safe and I’ll see you Monday if everything goes well! Love you!”

After receiving the mandatory goodbye hugs and kisses, you grab Spencer’s hand and lead him out of the club. It’s a good thing you parked far away because now you have time to set the mood.

“How many drinks have you had tonight? You look moderately red, Spence.” It’s a good starter because you need to know he’s not drunk and that this is fully consensual but also to call him out on his blushing.

“I didn’t drink tonight. Didn’t really feel like it so I just nursed a coke and I think the team thought it was a mixed drink.” His voice is heavenly and you personally can’t wait to hear what he sounds like moaning your name or any other name you both decide on.

You stop for a moment and place the back of your hand on his forehead before you announce, “Good news, you don’t have a fever! Bad news, I can’t place why else you’d be so red.” He splutters for a moment and your red only turns him more red.

“Yeah,” his voice cracks and you feel his palm become sweaty despite the cool temperature, “I don’t know why either.”

He’s so adorable if he thinks you’re gonna let him off the hook so easily. You lean in closer to him and whisper, “You know, my darling… I think I do know why you’re so red right now and it’s the same reason you’re always blushing around me,” you can hear him audibly gulp but he doesn't display any signals for you to stop so you continue, “The team used to think it was because I made you nervous and while that is partially correct, I think it’s because I made you excited, right?”

You stop in your tracks and you’re grateful you timed this correctly because you’re able to back him onto your car.

He’s looking down at you, eyes wide and pupils dilated, and you can’t help the smirk that graces your face. He looks so good like this but you think he’d look better looking up at you from his knees.

You reach up to cradle his face in your hands and say,“Tell me if you want this, Spencer. If you say no, I’ll stop and we’ll never have to speak of this again but… If you do want this, say please and I’ll take you home.”

He’s looking at you with something close to adoration and his admission is so quiet that if you hadn’t been staring so intently at him, you wouldn’t have heard him or read the plea that fell from his lips.

“Please.”

Oh, how that one little word sounded like music to your ears.

You take the last leap and lean forward to kiss him. His lips are exactly how you pictured and he tastes like the chapstick you gave him on that case to Alaska. This makes you feel unbearably smug because if he’s been using this chapstick rather than his usual one, it means you’ve affected even more than you thought.

When you finally pull away, Spencer looks confused and very rumpled.

“As much as I would love to continue this, I’d rather we didn’t do this in a parking lot for our first time.” He perks up at “first time” and you smile at him, “and there will be plenty of times to do this later. You’re not getting rid of me now that you’ve finally succumbed to my advances.”

“I agree.” He smiles at you and you take his hand into your own, giving it a light squeeze.

“Now, let’s get to my apartment so we can continue this."

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #my writing #if you just ask

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bothcreativitybois · 3 years

Text

TMST Chapter 8

I was freaking out because no one was commenting on Chapter 8... turns out I hadn’t posted it... 🤡 I am so sorry. Ao3 link Wordcount: 2507 Ship: Intruality TWs: Food, hospital, crying Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 Taglist: @crazydemigod666 @star-crossed-shipper @newtnotfound @3amthebitchinghour @idont-freaking-know @someoneiwasnt @crownofrats @the-sympathetic-villain @cute-and-angsty-princess @lonelymuffin @bloodyjay-0666 @im-an-anxious-wreck @fantasticallytired @obsessive-fallen-angel

“What do you mean I can’t bake?!” Patton shouted. “It’s a bakery!” Remus put up his hands to try and calm the angry man. “Janus just needs a day or two to get some of the painting done with spray paint.” Remus explained, his truck behind him filled with tarps and paints. “You said you wanted all the paint done for the Valentine's Day class, right?” “Yeah I know…” Patton huffed. He really didn’t like the idea of being locked out of the kitchens for two days. “Well it’s later this week. He can do brush for most of it but he wants to do this one part with spray paint.” Remus continued. “Consider it a vacation.” Remus tried to help Patton see the bright side. Patton sighed. “Just two days?” Patton asked. Remus put his hands on Patton’s shoulders. “Yes, that’s all. You deserve the break anyway.” Remus comforted. Patton looked up at the sign Remus had hung yesterday, the one he’d been waiting months for and Remus had it up in only about a week. Remus was doing so much to help him. He trusted him. “Alright.” Patton finally agreed. “But please have it done as soon as possible.” “Of course. You can trust me.” Remus said, Janus scoffed behind him. Patton laughed. He looked up at the sign again. It reminded him of something. Something he hadn’t done in a while. “You’re okay doing it all with just the two of you?” Patton asked. “If Remus touches my paint’s I’ll stab him in the hand again.” Janus shouted from the truck. “Again?” Patton turned to Remus who just shrugged. “We’ll be okay. Go do whatever you want.” Remus assured again as he pushed Patton towards his car.

An hour later Patton was in the city. He had stopped at a florist to get some flowers. As he walked in he was almost floored with all the scents that hit him at once. As he looked over the pots and shelves full of colourful flowers a worker came up to him. “Anything I can help with?” The lady asked in a friendly tone. Patton looked up quickly. He glanced quickly at the name tag that read ‘Charlie’. “Believe it or not I’m looking for flowers.” Patton joked, Charlie offered a polite laugh. “Anything in particular?” Charlie looked around at the mounds of flowers. Patton thought for a moment. He knew the answer to this. The same he always got. “Carnation and Peruvian lily.” Patton answered. The worker suddenly had a realisation. “You must be Patton.” Charlie said after a moment. Patton laughed. “I come here that much, huh?” He joked. Truthfully it wasn’t his first time here, but he’d never met Charlie before so he didn’t want to act like he knew the shop. It’d been a while since he came here so he thought maybe the staff had forgotten him anyway. “There’s a note behind the counter on your usual bouquet.” Charlie clarified. “I can make it for you right now.” She walked off and began gathering flowers. Patton looked around as she worked. He was drawn to the back of the store. A shelf without flowers, just small bottles. Most seemed to be perfumes or flower oils but one stood out. “When did you start stocking rose essence?” Patton asked as he plucked the bottle off the shelf. Charlie didn’t look up from arranging the flowers. “Just got it last week.” She shouted from her workstation. Patton turned the small bottle of flavouring over in his hands and inspected the clear liquid inside. “You a baker or a bartender?” Patton turned and began walking to the counter, bottle in hand. “Baker.” He said proudly, although he wasn’t sure how much longer he would be able to call himself that. “Those are the only two kinds of people we get looking for that.” Charlie said as she taped up the paper around the flowers. With Valentine's Day coming soon he knew he could find some way to use it. He paid for the flowers and also got a bottle of the essence. He dropped his essence in the car and looked across the street at his next stop. It was really convenient that they had a florist across from the hospital. He walked into the reception and was greeted with a familiar face this time. “Patton! Long time no see.” The nurse said. “Here to see Moe?” The nurse already knew the answer but asked nonetheless. “Of course.” Patton responded. The nurse typed a few things on the computer before looking up again. “She’s still in the same room. You can go on through.” The nurse smiled. Patton nodded. “Thanks Kait!” Patton called as he walked away. He began humming to himself as he walked. A small song he made to remember the way. “Third hall left, up two flights, fifth room right. Third hall left, up to flights, fifth room right.” Patton hummed this all the way until he reached the right room. At this point he didn’t really need the song to remember but it had become a habit. It helped calm his nerves. He took a deep breath and knocked gently on the already slightly open door. He didn’t know why he was so nervous, she was the one who asked he visited less. She wanted him to focus on the bakery. “Come in.” A voice answered. Patton pushed open the door the rest of the way. He looked over at the bed to see his mother, she smiled as soon as she saw him. “Froggy.” She cheered. Patton quickly walked over and hugged her. “Hi Mum.” He whispered as she squeezed him tightly. He didn’t realise how much he missed her hugs until he was having one. He leaned back and gave her the flowers he was carrying. Even though she got this same bouquet each time he visited she was still excited and sniffed it deeply. “Thank you, dear. It’s lovely.” She said caressing the flowers. “How have you been?” Patton asked finally as he pulled a chair close to the bed. His mother sat up quickly and turned to him. A wide proud smile broke across her face. “They’re saying if the inflammation stays where it is then I should be out by the end of the month!” She announced excitedly. Patton smiled. He wanted to get excited, he really did, but the doctors said the same thing last month. “That’s great!” Patton praised with as much excitement he could muster. “I can’t wait to have you back.” Patton reached out a hand and his mother took it in hers. He really meant that. He missed having his mother around to handle business while he baked. He missed having her hug him each morning. He missed her doting over every new recipe, how she lit up when she tried it, how she would smile proudly as he baked, how she would poke his cheek and tell him everything will be okay. He missed her. “How’s the bakery?” Moe asked. She knew it was in bad shape when she left, but Patton hadn’t visited in nearly a month. She was blissfully unaware of everything happening. Patton wasn’t and fidgeted at the question. “Well… there was a bit of a mix up.” He began. As he looked up he saw her face change. She was so happy a moment ago but now she looked scared. He hated seeing that. “Uh but don’t worry! It will all be fixed by the time you get out.” Patton misled. It wasn’t completely untrue, the problem would be over by then. It was just a question of how that would happen. “Are you sure you don’t need my help?” Moe stressed. Patton waved a finger. “You know that you aren’t supposed to work.” He reminded her. “Besides I actually have some people already helping.” He admitted. Moe looked over curiously. “People as in worker people or as in friend people?” Her voice sparkled mischievously. This was the first time Patton had seen her since he had met Remus and the others, she’d not heard anything about friends.

He explained everything that had happened, omitting the part where the bakery may be shut down. Moe listened closely, it was so long since she’d seen him and each day she just wanted to hear his voice again. As much as it hurt her to not see him as much as she used to, he needed to focus on the bakery, on making friends, on everything being normal again. She noticed something about the way he talked about this ‘Remus’ guy. The way he described him and the face he made when he spoke about him. It was more than just friendship. So when are you going to stop messing about and ask Remus on a date?” Moe said after Patton was done his story. Blunt as always. Patton blushed. “Wh-what?” Patton stuttered. He didn’t know why he felt so embarrassed about it. It wasn’t like he was a closeted high school kid anymore. “I don’t think he’s interested in me like that.” “Are you?” Moe asked quickly. “I don’t have the time to think about that.” Patton gave the same answer he’d given Janus. Moe gave him a hard stare. “Great. Now try again but tell me the truth.” She pressed. She could see right through him. Patton sighed. Perhaps it would be good to get it out. Especially with someone he trusted. “It’s a lot of things. Remus is the first guy I’ve been interested in since the break up which is a little startling. His friend has said he has an issue with boundaries and honestly I can see it. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy that would date someone like me and even if he did I doubt we’d want the same things from it. He doesn’t seem like the guy who wants more than a hook-up or maybe a few dates.” Patton finally let out. He’d been holding it all in and it felt good to say it. Moe took a minute to process everything Patton had said. “I can think of one cure-all solution that might work.” Moe suggested after a while. Patton leaned in eagerly. “Just talk to the damn guy!” She shouted. Patton leaned back and sighed. He knew that was what he needed to do, but it was also the thing he was avoiding. He finally had someone, he had friends, and that could all be ruined if he said anything. “But what if it goes badly?” Patton said sadly. Moe took her son's hand once again. “Then it wasn’t gonna work out anyway. It might be better to get an answer now before it is too late and it hurts someone’s feelings very badly.” Moe soothed. Her son was so timid, she didn’t want him to miss out on something special because of it. But more so he was sensitive. And he made connections quickly. It was a perfect recipe for a crash and burn.

Patton stayed late at the hospital. Talking for hours with his mother, playing games in the visitor lounge, catching up. Until visiting hours ended and he had to leave. He clung to her one last time, knowing he wouldn’t get the chance to again for a while. When his mum was first brought to hospital when he was a teenager they had made a rule. No crying until after the visit. They had always stuck to this rule, even subconsciously. That’s why the tears didn’t hit until Patton was home. It wasn’t until he stepped into that cold night air that his eyes suddenly began to blur and his chest felt like it was disappearing. In that dark and silence he realised just how lonely he felt. He braced himself against the railing as he walked up the stairs to his apartment. As he got to the door he saw Remus sitting in front of it. He tried to wipe his face before Remus saw him but it was already too late. Remus didn’t say anything, he just ran up to Patton and hugged him. Patton fell into the hug without hesitation. He cherished the feeling of Remus’ arms wrapped around him. He suddenly didn’t feel as lonely. “You aren’t hurt, right?” Remus finally broke the silence but kept the hug. Patton laughed sadly. “No. I just…” Patton began. His mum’s words ran through his head. Just talk to the damn guy! “My mum is in the hospital and I went to visit her.” Patton admitted through sobs. It was the first time he’d told Remus about it. “She has an inflammatory disease and at the end of last year she had some problems with it that affected some of her organs, she’s been in the hospital ever since.” Remus tightened the hug. Patton felt himself nuzzle closer into the larger man’s chest as he heaved. “You don’t need to explain. I’m here for you.” Remus whispered. Patton gripped the back of his shirt. He was shaking like a baby foal on it’s first steps. “I felt so guilty at the picnic for having fun while she was stuck there.” Patton wheezed. Remus felt his heart break from Patton’s words. He didn’t know how to comfort people like Janus does, he wasn’t good with words like Roman. But none of that mattered. He just wanted Patton to be happy again. “Is there anything you want me to do that can help?” Remus asked. Patton looked up at him, eyes larger than the moon. “Just stay. Please.” Patton begged. As a response Remus pressed a kiss to the top of Patton’s head. “As long as you need.” Remus promised. And he did. He made Patton dinner while holding his hand, he waited just outside the bathroom as Patton showered, he turned off the lights and tucked Patton under the blankets. As Remus stepped away Patton grabbed his hand. He wasn’t ready to be alone again. “Not yet. Please don’t go.” Patton whispered weakly. Remus wasn’t sure what to do, but if Patton needed him then he would stay. He kicked off his shoes and climbed into the bed. Patton immediately clung to his chest again. Remus gently placed his arms around Patton again. He could feel each sob and catch in Patton’s breathing. “I’m sorry.” Patton choked. “Don’t be.” Remus reassured as he buried his face in Patton’s hair. “I’d want to sleep with me too.” He joked. He felt Patton giggle sadly at him. He smiled proudly at himself and pulled Patton closer. He kept track of every sob and heave until eventually they all became steady and the small man’s grip weakened. He knew he should leave, but he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to abandon Patton. Or the calming feeling of their bodies pressed together in the darkness. He talked circles in his mind debating whether to stay until finally sleep made the choice for him.

#roman took over #the mayor's sweet treat #sanders sides small town au #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fic #intruality au #intruality #sanders sides #remus sanders #ts remus #patton sanders #ts patton #janus sanders #ts janus #tw food

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neakco · 3 years

Text

You're Not Alone Ch. 3

Ao3 the start Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.4

Marinette looks back on her week as she gets ready to return to Paris and to school.

Marinette leaned against her bag in the bat cave. This was it, time to go home. She glanced fondly to where Damian and Tim were arguing over what her designation should be. Looking to her other side allowed her to see Kon and Jon who were supposedly keeping watch but instead were watching the two Robin’s argue.

“So you finish assigning me a designation then I get access to the tubes forever?” She watched as Damian and Tim paused in their scuffle, Damian's elbow jammed in Tim's ribs.

Tim smiled at her despite the painful position he seemed to be holding, “Yep, all you have to do is state your designation and you will have access to any of the tubes in Gotham or the one in Paris if you are here.”

Jon spoke up from across the cave, “Why don’t you two just ask her which name she likes better?”

Kon snorted, “Because the moment they decide on a name there is nothing to stop her from leaving.”

Neither Robin answered as they instead went back to their fight.

Marinette smiled and laid back on her bag. It was nice to see her birds getting along. Sure some may not see it, but neither had pulled out any weapons and none of the blows hit with force.

She looked back on her week, there were probably too many days where she cried on Tim, but she definitely felt better now, stronger. She could face her friend now and not have it hurt.

She almost laughed as she thought back to Monday night. Bruce saw her getting ready to join patrol and forbid her from lending Trixx to Tim. Not liking being told who she could and could not give the miraculous to she made the wonderful decision to lend Trixx to Jason instead. In hindering there was no way that was going to turn out well. She still thought it was worth the look on Bruce’s face.

The chaos was so great that he hadn’t even noticed Damian using Longg until after she had recruited Chat to help her control the chaos. Marinette hummed to herself, if anything calling Chat had only made things worse. Seeing him twice that day was really bad for her heart, but at least Batman had a worse time. She still wasn’t sure if he ever noticed Tim shield surfing amongst all the other chaos.

Bruce had banned her from handing out any more miraculous during patrols, she only agreed because he said he would let Red Robin patrol again. It also helped that she could still drag the boys with her to fight akumas. Orikko and Tim paired well together.

Sadly Damian couldn’t help during that akuma. The fight would have been over a lot sooner with a dragon. Probably would have been less food puns with Damian threatening to stab someone. She blamed Chat Noir. He called Tim Rouge-Gorge like the American restaurant. They probably shouldn’t let Kon know how often Tim was called yummy during that fight.

She was snapped out of remembering quite violently when Kon had tossed her suddenly towards the sparing mats. She landed herself in a fighting stance and noticed Damian doing the same as Jon tossed him. She looked quickly towards Tim and saw that he had pulled up a summary of her last spare and what she needed to work on. She smiled, guess the supers were working as lookouts after all.

She didn’t allow anymore time for thoughts as she launched into a series of fast palm strikes. Damian sadly wasn’t taken surprise and blocked her before launching into a counter.

“What is all this? I thought Little Red was leaving.” Dick looked over the cave as she and Damian stopped sparing to look at him.

Dick walked over to Tim without waiting for an answer. He closed the analysis and started typing.

“MLB-01 registered.” Flashed on the screen and Dick just shook his head and walked back the way he came without another word.

The five teens looked at each other a little sheepishly before Marinette decide to take the opportunity to hug Damian.

“Get off me woman.”

“I will miss you too Damian.” She smiled and let go before he stabbed her then walked over to the Kents. She grabbed them both in a hug, “Come visit after an akuma attack sometime.”

“No promises,” Kon laughed as he hugged her back and tugged one of her pigtails.

She batted his hand away then went to gove Tim a hug. “Thanks for being my rock.”

His return hug caused her ribs to ache slightly but she didn’t care. “Anytime Bug.”

Her eyes started to tear up. This week was so much fun, she would really miss them. “We never finished writing our love song.”

Tim laughed, “That's because neither of us are very good at coming up with a melody.” He released her from the hug a little reluctantly and grabbed her bag from Damian in order to hand it to her. “Call me when you get home Bug.”

She smiled a little watery but accepted the bag.

“None of that now,” Tim wiped her tears away with a handkerchief, “We are still on for Saturday Brunch next week.”

“DC.” She looked over at Damian glaring at her and smiled. He was trying to hide how upset he was. “Call if you need us, it will be a pleasure to trounce your villains for you.”

She smiled, “Of course.” She stepped up to the tube. “Thank you. I will talk to you soon, I promise.” She input her designation and was off to Paris before any of them had a chance to respond.

It was better this way. This way she wouldn’t cry anymore.

She opened her purse and smiled at Tikki. “As far as travel goes I think I prefer Kaalki's portals.”

Tikki just giggled and munched on a cookie.

Marinette closed her purse and carefully left the building. She wasn’t too surprised to find herself near the Grand Hotel. Her secret phone dinged and Tikki handed it up to her quietly.

‘The limo is for u.’

‘I took u away in style Im going to return u in style.’

‘u r worth it.’

She smiled and sent a thank you back to Tim. She would repay him with some pastries next Saturday.

Her parents were busy in the bakery but still made time to give her a quick hug. Her maman even commented on her smile. She flushed a little at that. Guess she wasn’t as good at faking them as she thought.

Once in her room she turned on her normal phone and listened to all the messages come in. There were a couple from Luka and Adrien asking her to let them know when she made it back and Luka hoping she found what she needed to.

Adrien let her know he was excited to see her at school and let her know he had a lot to catch her up on. Luka wanted to know if she could hang out after school since he had a new song to show her and wanted to know about her week.

She responded to both of them and then took a steadying breath. She couldn’t avoid it any longer.

She took her time to open up Alya's messages. Ninety-four messages, most of them creative rephrasing of the questions: How do you know the Waynes? Did you meet any heroes? Are you dating one of them? Why are you ignoring me? Oh and Marinette’s favourite; Lila says you would totally have cell service in the states.

She groaned and handed the phone over to Tikki to read while she thought of a response. Deciding that she really just wanted to call Tim and sleep she told Alya she was jetlagged and they could talk in person tomorrow.

Maybe future Marinette would be well rested enough to handle Alya.

One more chapter and we are done. Maybe then my brain will finally release me from this universe and let me write for other stories.

That said, let me know if there are any scenes you want to see. I am happy to try and write them.

Taglist: @novemberistired @novemberandmay @laurcad123 @certainmuffinbagelcalzone

#maribat #platonic timari #you're not alone #rin writes #platonic timinette

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normal-thoughts-official · 3 years

Text

With a little help from your friends (the help is praise kink and the friend is your boyfriend)

Who would have thought that fucking your boyfriend senseless cures dysphoria.

Alternatively: being a dom is actually something that can be so gender,

Fandom: It Lives (Visual Novels)

Pairing: Andy Kang/Tom Sato

Additional tags: let's see, mild mentions of transphobic and racist comments, Comfort Sex, the filthiest comfort sex uve ever seen but WHATEVER, dom andy kang, sub tom sato, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Dom/sub Play, Collars, Praise Kink, basically someone says transphobic shit and then tom rides him and talks about how wonderful andy is, except tom has also been in denial for a few days and he's super horny, and andy gets in domspace and everything is great and nothing hurts, Fluff and Smut, Humor, cuz u know these two are incapable of taking anything too seriously, Established Relationship, oh they're both in college and they go to the same college cuz i said so, set after the events of it lives beneath, that's it I think, trans author if that matters to you

Read it on Ao3

Andy isn't having a great day. It's not a terrible, clawing-at-his-chest-trying-to-deal-with-dysphoria kind of day, but he's been trying out this "not comparing everything to the worst possible scenario" thing his therapist has been talking about, so still, not a great day.

The thing is, he thought college would be easier. And it is, in a lot of ways. For starters, there is no evil monster spectre trying to kill him, which gives college at least 5 points over high school. And his uni has a pretty solid queer club, so he knows other trans people there. Some of them are even non-white. Some of them he even actually, truly likes. And most of the time, he feels like he has a place to turn to, and people to support him. He's not alone. He has people who get him. And that makes all the difference.

But basketball is still a nightmare, and his knee still hurts when it's cold, and winter is officially starting now.

People still hesitate to pass the ball to him, and it's frustrating, because Andy fought so hard to earn his old team's trust and now he's back at square zero. And well, Andy has been gaining this team's trust, because he's good, goddamn it, and his team owes at least the last three victories to him. He's not hesitant to say that, especially because otherwise no one will. And he can see that they look at him differently now - nod at him in the hallways, at least, talk to him in the locker room, pass him the fucking ball if his position is very, very open.

But if he weren't trans and Asian, he wouldn't have had to work so hard to get all of that - or well, just that, really. He has a full sports scholarship despite the fact that he had a broken leg, had to retake his last year of high school, and doesn't even have the body type for basketball. If he weren't Asian, if he weren't trans, his team would have assumed his greatness from day one. Instead, he has to show it to them time and time again only to get them to reluctantly admit maybe he's not bad. No one calls him "triple threat" anymore, but he still has to work three times harder than anyone else, and it's frustrating.

And usually Andy can deal with it, but right now his knee hurts, and he can't afford that because he'll lose everything he's worked for if his teammates know that his fucking knee hurts. So, he braved training and then he got the fuck out of there without even changing so no one would see him wince. Which means he's still in basketball shorts, which are short, in the cold, which means his leg hurts more.

At times like these, he's thankful he never got the chance to go through with his promise to break his other leg kicking Noah's ass. Because he would have, and then both his legs would be hurting right now, and two legs that hurt every time it's cold is just too many legs.

No comparing to the worst possible scenario, he tells himself. Therapy is so hard. If he had known there would be homework, he would have thought twice about going.

And that's, apparently, the cue for his phone to go off. Andy smiles, knowing who it is even before he opens the message, because only one person messages him during class, and it's the only person he wants to hear from right now.

Tom <3 sent you a message

Grinning like a fool, he opens it.

Tom <3: dude, im horny af rn. the fuck

Finally, good news, Andy thinks, smiling. Then he remembers why Tom is so horny, and suddenly this day is great, actually.

He quickly types a reply.

You: who wouldve thought that 3 days of denial would make this happen

Tom <3: ill have u kno i was very good at holding it together before today

You: yeah, dw. soon u wont have to hold it anymore ;)

Tom <3: that flirt was terrible, dude

You: said the guy whos calling me dude for the second time in this conversation

Tom <3: what else should i call u? 😩

Andy thinks for a second. Tom and him do longer-term denial every once in a while, but they aren't in a 24/7 relationship. Does Andy really want to go there right now? Yes. Well, that was fast. Okay then.

You: how about "sir"

Tom's reply comes fast as lightning.

Tom <3: Yes, Sir.

Andy smirks at himself.

You: uve been hoping that id say that, havent u?

Tom types for just a little longer this time.

Tom <3: Yes, Sir.

----

Many things are wrong with the world, and Andy doesn't mean to make light of the other things, but the fact that Andy can't simply go and fuck his boyfriend whenever he wants is definitely one of them. It should be, like, financial compensation or something. We're so sorry the school environment is transphobic, here, have a free sex pass. Sounds fair to him. But instead, he still has two hours of classes to go through, and Andy is a better guy than he wishes he was, so he tells Tom to pay attention to class instead of sexting him, because he doesn't want Tom to struggle even more with his course when he had already had to leave it once. God damn true love or whatever.

The point is, by the time classes are finally over, his day is back to not being that great; he's tired, and his leg hurts. He gets to their car after Tom does, and Tom takes one look at him, and says, "I'm driving".

Andy crosses his arms. "Why?"

"Because your leg hurts," Tom answers, rolling his eyes and taking Andy's bag from him and putting it in the trunk.

Andy looks down at his legs. He wasn't limping. There aren't any bruises. How the hell-

"It's cold and you're in shorts. I'm not an idiot, dude."

Right. Yeah. Right. Of course. Tom knows. It's… It's alright.

"Bad day at training?" Tom asks, slowly, sympathetically, and Andy feels himself settle in his skin a little bit.

"The usual," he answers, getting inside, and, as always, Tom gets the hint.

---

Their uni's dorms are gender-segregated because these guys have still not gotten the memo that people of the same gender fuck; and Andy wasn't willing to deal with cis college guys' bullshit, much less cis college girls' bullshit; and the uni wouldn't let him simply pick Tom as his roommate. So, they rented out a beat up apartment right next to it instead. It took a little longer to get there, but it wasn't a lot longer, and well, it was worth it.

Tom gets inside, still carrying Andy's bag because he's transphobic and unfair and had taken it and bolted up running so Andy wouldn't have a chance to argue with him. And Andy can't run after him with his leg hurting, which kind of proves Tom's point that he should carry Andy's bag. All in all, Tom is the worst, and he turns up the heat as soon as he gets inside and sits Andy down on the bed, kneeling in front of him to take a look at Andy's knee.

He's silent for a while, massaging his knee until Andy sighs and throws his head back, before Tom plants a little kiss on his knee and looks up at him. Andy's knee always stops hurting when Tom kisses it better. It's a little embarrassing, if Andy is being honest, but still- nice. Really nice.

They stay for a little longer like this, Tom humming and massaging his knee and Andy not meeting his eyes, until the question inevitably comes.

"What happened?" Tom asks, not letting up with the smooth movements of his hands, his eyes big and sincere with worry.

"Nothing. Just the cold. You know how my knee gets."

"I meant, for you to leave practice without putting some warmer clothes on."

Andy looks away. "It was nothing."

"Dude, are you expecting me to go, 'okay, yeah, that totally makes sense and I believe you', or…?"

Andy laughs, despite himself, and throws his good leg up in an almost-kick to pretend he's retaliating. "Don't be an ass."

"I'm not. Come on, Andy. You know you can tell me."

"It's nothing, it's just- Kyle-"

"Oh boy."

Andy laughs. "Yeah." But then he grows serious, "the thing is, he doesn't mean any harm, you know? I know he's not saying it to hurt me, and so that just means that, like... that it's true."

Tom's hands stop their movements, rubbing soothing circles around his knee instead. "What did he say?"

Andy doesn't look at him. "He asked me why I didn't stay on the women's team. Said that I could have an advantage, cuz Asian people are androgynous anyway, so no one would notice that I was taking hormones."

Tom just stares at him in shock for a moment.

"And I was like, 'dude, I've been on T for three years, I'm pretty sure they would notice the changes'. And he was like, 'yeah, but you still look like a lot of Asian girls with short hair, you could write it off if you wanted', and I just…" He trails off.

Tom waits in silence for a second, seeing if Andy finds his words, before asking, "Is Kyle, like, okay?"

Andy scoffs. "I didn't try and fight him, if that's what you're asking."

"No, I mean, does this dude have a screw loose or something?"

"He's very bad at figuring out what is or isn't offensive, yeah, but it's not like he really cares, he just won't go out of his way to antagonize me."

"No, I just- Andy, even when you were a little kid with huge pigtails, anyone would have to be crazy to see you as a girl."

Andy bites the inside of his lip. "You're just saying that."

"I'm not. It's just wrong, man. It was so obvious that it was wrong. Anyone could tell. There's nothing about you that says 'girl' to anyone who's looking."

Andy sighs, finally risking looking at Tom's eyes. There's overwhelming sincerity there, and Andy instinctively looks away. "I guess. Maybe. I don't know. It just got me thinking... Maybe T didn't change anything. Maybe I look exactly the same, maybe it was just hopeful thinking that had me thinking it would change anything, maybe it's just- pointless to even try-"

"No, no, come on," Tom says, and the interruption is so sudden it makes Andy look at him again, just in time to see Tom shaking his head vigorously. "There's no way you believe that. What about this bad boy over here?" He smiles, reaching out softly to caress Andy's neck. "You have more of an Adam's Apple than me, dude. And we both know you don't need T to be a guy, but thinking it made no difference is just crazy and you know it. What about those dry pecs? These broad shoulders of yours? Your voice, I mean, come on. You even smell different, man. How can it be pointless, if even your scent is different?"

Andy looks to the side again, but he can feel himself smile. "Well, when you put it like that..."

Tom gets up, but stays close, putting his hand on Andy's cheek, slowly, as if testing the waters, before turning him slightly to look at him. "Andy. Kyle is an idiot and a transphobic racist who's too damn lazy to realize how fucked up he is. And you shouldn't have to deal with that, and I'm sorry, and I will set him on fire."

Andy laughs. "You can't keep threatening to set every shitty teammate I have on fire."

"I can, because it keeps making you laugh," Tom says, smiling. Well. Andy can't argue with that. "My point is, you wouldn't listen to a word this dude says if it were about anyone else, so don't listen to him when he talks about you, okay? T or no T, you're no girl, and you don't look like a girl, and regardless of whether or not Kyle's dumb ass noticed it, your transition has been doing you good. Remember when your voice started to crack and get all weird? I've never seen anyone be that happy about it."

Andy laughs. "It was pretty awful."

"No, it was great, 'cause you loved it. Do you want me to pull out the 'before' pictures we took in case this happened? Look at yourself, dude. You fit so much better in your own skin, you know? And like, you've always been gorgeous, but-"

"Come here," Andy interrupts, pulling him down because Tom is standing and Andy is sitting and Andy is already height-challenged. And Tom goes willingly, carefully straddling Andy's lap and meeting him in a kiss. Finally, Andy thinks.

Tom kisses him softly, slowly, one hand resting on the back of Andy's head and the other draped lazily over his shoulder, as he usually does, all gentle and a little hesitant, and Andy is having none of that. So he grabs Tom's hair and deepens the kiss, bringing him closer until their chests are flushed together and he can feel Tom's hips mindlessly making little circles against Andy's belly.

They separate - or well, stop kissing, really, because Tom is still as close to Andy as physically possible, and Andy feels about ready to shoot anyone who tries to push him further away. Tom's a little breathless, and his hips are still making these almost imperceptible movements against Andy, and Andy realizes that he's still grabbing Tom's hair and that he's a little breathless, too.

Tom looks down at him for a second, as if debating something with himself, before saying, "and like, not to be horny during a serious moment, but since we're talking about the effects of T... Andy. Andy. Your clit. Fuck. It's so huge now, and it's got a visible head and you can fuck my face and everything, and I could sing it praises for a week and probably will if you don't stop me right now."

"Hmm, but I like it when you sing me praises," he smiles. "Keep going."

"God, I was hoping you'd say that. Do you have any idea how much I've been thinking about it today? I didn't hear a single word anyone said to me, all I could think about was you fucking my face, pulling my hair, making me worship you and beg to be allowed to suck you off, I wanna serve you like you're my God." Tom's hips start to jerk up, more visibly this time, shameless, and see, this is why Andy's been really, really liking this whole denial thing - Tom has only started to explore his subby side recently, a little ashamed of it to admit it to anyone, even himself. But when he's horny enough, he gets shameless and desperate about what he wants, and god, nothing is more beautiful than Tom when he asks for what he wants. He feels something growing inside of him, not sure if it's warmth or heat, but seeing Tom like that, wanting him, needing him, definitely makes him feel so much better.

"Yeah?" Andy asks, tracing a finger over Tom's shoulder, close to his neck, just to give him goosebumps.

"Fuck yes, I want it so bad, and you deserve it too, Andy… Sir. You're the best Sir I could ask for, I just want… Want you to use me, want you to cum on me, want to kiss you all over and worship you and pleasure you, you're so gorgeous..." He hides his face in Andy's shoulder for a bit, but his hips don't stop moving. He whines, "Andy..."

"Address me properly," Andy snaps, feeling the edges of worry clear from his mind and giving way to that wonderful feeling of clear-mindedness, of power, where nothing matters but his own pleasure. "And maybe I'll give you what you want, if you earn it."

Tom nods, hips full on thrusting now, and Andy snaps again. "Stay still."

And he does, immediately, without question, biting his lip and keeping his eyes shut with effort. Andy can feel his thighs clenching and spasming over his, trying to keep himself from moving, trying to be good. He hums in appreciation, but doesn't praise him for it, not yet.

"I'll get you ready," Andy explains, before reaching to Tom's hair, and starts to undo his bun, as slow as possible, just to watch him squirm. He gets so impatient when Andy undresses him, which is why Andy never misses a chance to drag it out.

He begins by removing Tom's jacket, sliding his hands slowly over his shoulders, then down his back, feeling the firm muscle there, digging his nails just a little bit so he can see Tom's eyes flutter in bliss. When the jacket falls to the floor, Andy begins circling the hem of his shirt, sliding until his hands are back on front, fingers just close enough to Tom's cock for him to feel Tom tense in his hands, so damn sensitive to his touch, so needy. God, he can't get enough of this, but he pretends that he doesn't notice, lets Tom try and keep himself together as Andy's hands slide over his belly, then chest, over the shirt, collarbone, wrapping and resting on Tom's throat just so he feels the threat of it, before Andy finally grabs the back of the shirt's collar and tugs, taking it off. Then he slides his hands back down, making sure to run a finger just over the sensitive spot where his pecs end, then lower, over his ribcage, belly, hips, next to the bruises where Andy had grabbed him the night before, then back to the middle, just over the bulge in his pants, and Tom finally breaks and jerks up slightly, letting out a little moan.

"Sir," he whines, "please, please, I-" Andy continues to circle the head of his cock with his finger, "please!"

"Patience," is all he says, before going back to his painfully light movements, imagining Tom's needy cock twitching under his fingers, imagining the effort Tom makes not to thrust up or keep begging for more, just because Andy told him not to. "You know how much I like playing with your pretty little cock. You said you wanted to serve me, didn't you?"

"Yes- yes, Sir."

He hums, noncommittally, not looking at him. "Good." He teases the tip of his clothed cock some more, enjoying the way his mind zeroes on that, the way he feels like he has all the power and the time in the world. Finally, he pats Tom's thigh once. "Get off, and take off the rest of your clothes. Get the lube and a condom."

Tom gets up, a little shaky, and does as instructed, while Andy reaches down to the drawer under the bed where he keeps his dick's spine and a few of their toys. He gets the spine, then adjusts his packer briefs so he can put it on - best purchase of his life, really, those briefs. So much easier to use than a regular strap-on and it makes the packer sit over his clit just right, making a little suction and pressure. Andy couldn't be happier that he was already wearing them.

Tom gets back with everything he asked right in time for Andy to finish making his dick hard, and goes on to put the condom on and cover Andy's cock in lube with the kind of attention that makes Andy hold his breath. Tom's so careful, yet eager, and adoring, about it. Andy feels like the hottest guy in the world.

Once he gets permission, Tom sits on his cock, slowly, getting adjusted to it - admittedly, Andy went a little overboard when he bought his first cock. Andy waits until Tom is fully seated, littering his neck with little kisses and praise for how well he's taking him, how pretty he looks, until Tom looks fully comfortable and ready to start complaining if Andy doesn't start fucking him in earnest soon. That's when Andy shows him the other item he pulled from the drawer - Tom's favorite collar.

Tom's reaction is instantaneous. He throws his head back, moving over Andy's cock as he lets out a breathless, almost choked moan; the hands he had resting on Andy's shoulders suddenly squeezing full force in his need.

"God, you're such a whore," Andy says, casually, and Tom nods, even as he flushes. The collar is just a simple black one, with a little hoop for the leash, but inside they had it engraved with the words Andy's whore, and it left visible marks that could be seen for a few hours after they took it off. It never failed to drive Tom crazy, so it always drove Andy crazy, too. "Stay still," he warns, and Tom nods, breathing heavily, gripping Andy's shoulder as tight as he can as he stays frozen in place. Andy slowly puts it around his neck, checking with his finger to make sure it's not too tight, and the second he clasps it in place, Tom's whole body relaxes, a content little sigh escaping his lips, his face slack and blissed out. He likes being owned, so much. Andy can't get enough of it. "Good?" he asks, just to make sure it's not too tight.

"Perfect," Tom answers, the words leaving him in a sigh. Andy then ties the leash to the headboard, making sure that they're just far enough from it that he'll be feeling its pull the whole time. Tom lets out a moan. "Thank you, Sir."

Andy smirks. "Now, here's what I want you to do," he says, "you're going to ride me, just like that, and you're not going to come until I tell you to. You're definitely not going to come before I do. If you come close, you'll have to tell me. I want to hear you scream, so make as much noise as you want. Do you understand?"

Tom nods again, almost dizzyingly quick. "Yes, Sir."

"Good, then get to it."

Tom doesn't need to be told twice. He starts riding him, slowly at first, trying to find the perfect angle for Andy - not himself, Andy notices, pleased. Once it's perfect, Andy orders, "faster, slut,” and Tom obeys, as always, working up speed as he tries to keep himself upright, feeling the tug of his leash with every movement, moaning the whole time. “Good boy,” Andy says, and Tom’s responding whine is high pitched, embarrassing, needy. He gets even faster then, starting to babble as he keeps on working, and Andy just stays casually in place, not having to do a single thing while Tom works to give him pleasure.

"Fuck, you're so perfect, did you know that?" Tom asks, quickly sliding down on Andy's cock, making sure he puts all this weight in the end so Andy's cock will press down against his clit just the way he likes, making sure to go as deep as possible, "I've been dreaming of your cock for days, god, Sir, nothing's better than this," he hides his face in Andy's shoulder, speeding up even more, thighs shaking with the effort, and Andy puts a fist in his hair and pulls, watching as Tom throws his head back and lets out a scream, working even faster on Andy's cock. "Sir!," he whines, "oh, thank you, thank you, feels so good, oh my god, please, I'm gonna-"

"No, you won't," Andy interrupts, "I'm not even close to coming yet. Keep working, slut."

"Y-yes, Sir," he whines, going faster, deeper, and Andy makes it harder for him, keeps pulling at his hair to expose his neck, litters kisses and bites on his exposed throat, grabs his thigh and squeezes hard enough to bruise so Tom remembers he's his, his whore, his toy.

"I love it when you get like this," Andy says, doing his best to keep his tone even, even as he's a little breathless from pleasure, from power, "I bet you want to come so bad, don't you? If I'd just give you the word, you'd be making a mess of yourself, coming on my cock right now-"

"Fuck! Yes, yes, Sir, please, I'm so close."

Andy smiles. "No."

Tom whines, so cute, adorable, and Andy is nice enough to leave a little kiss on his shoulder, grounding, calming him down. Before going right back to torturing him, "no, you don't get to come for a long time yet. I want you just like this, on edge, tasting it…" Andy grins. "Tell me how close you are, baby."

"I'm- I'm so close-"

Andy slaps him in the face. "You can do better than that."

"Fuck, I feel like I'm going to explode, I'm so close, I want it so bad, and you feel so good, God, you have no idea what you do to me, Sir, your cock is so perfect, it hurts, I need it- need to cum on your cock, Sir, please-"

"No."

Tom chokes on a moan, and starts to go even faster. He lets out a little whine, something Andy thinks was supposed to be a word, but doesn't come close.

"See," Andy says, "this is why I won't let you come. Look at you - every time I tell you no, you get so desperate, so obedient - it's what you want, isn't it? You want me to keep telling you no, you want to know your pleasure doesn't matter, that you're just here to serve me."

"Yes! Yes, yes, yes-"

"Good, then keep going. And beg all you want- I like telling you no, too."

Tom does. He begs, and he says thank you when Andy denies him, again and again and again. Thank you, Sir, thank you for using me, for putting me in my place, I'm yours, I'm yours. And he keeps on praising Andy, praising his cock, his body, the way he fucks him and uses him, no one else makes me feel like this, no one deserves to be worshipped and served like you, Sir, I want to make you feel good-... Until even the clear-minded state of domspace begins to crumble and Andy feels nothing but pleasure, and confidence, and power, and he cums to the sound of Tom praising him and begging, once, twice, three times, until his head is clear again and everything, even the need to chase his own pleasure, is gone, and he just feels perfect.

"Stop," he orders Tom, who's still babbling more and more incoherently, endless praise and worship, and Andy finds that he worships Tom right back. "I want you to get my cock as deep inside you as you can, and stay still. I'm going to play with your dick for a while, and when I tell you to, you can come. You did well today, baby."

Tom nods, suddenly struggling to use his words. "T-thank you, Sir," he says, already frozen in place, thighs clenching with the effort not to move and also shaking with all the effort he did before.

Andy coos. "Poor baby. You were so good to me today. Let me take care of you."

"You always- always do, Sir," Tom replies, and Andy smiles.

He gives Tom a long, slow handjob, making sure Tom stays still through it, enjoying the way his thighs shake on top of Andy's, the pressure of Tom sitting tight on his cock, the way his arms also shake with effort where they rest around Andy's neck; Tom's pretty, exposed throat all marked up around his collar, his breathless little whines as Andy makes sure to do it just the way he likes it, makes his cock turn red with need; watches Tom bite his lip, because when he has to keep still he becomes so quiet and needy, even as the little whines go through his lips… Until Andy finally says, "come for me, baby," and Tom screams through an orgasm that lasts almost a minute, hanging on to Andy as tightly as he can to keep himself anchored through the pleasure.

And then Andy holds him, and Tom holds him back, and they hold each other.

----

A while later, they've cleaned up Tom's cum so it doesn't get all sticky on Andy's chest, and Andy's finally taken off those damn briefs - they're great for sex, but get pretty tight when you wear them for a long time - and Andy holds Tom against his chest. He's humming, contently, and if anyone had told him at the beginning of the day that he'd be comfortable enough to have someone close to him while he's fully naked, he'd - well, probably assume they meant Tom, but still be skeptical.

"How do you feel?" Tom asks after a little while, finally opening up his eyes and saying hello to the world.

"That's supposed to be my line," Andy laughs.

"I feel great. Perfect. Next time, I wanna do it for longer. A week? Let's try a week. Or two weeks…?"

Andy laughs. "Let's not make too big of a leap yet."

"Fine. A week sounds good. Great. And now that we've established that denial is totally bomb for me, how are you feeling?"

"Honestly? I'm feeling great, too," Andy admits, playing with a little stray of Tom's hair, swirling it around his finger, "I think I needed that, a little bit. Who'd have thought that having you ride me and praise my cock cures dysphoria."

"Every trans top on every forum I've ever visited."

"Let me have my moment of realization," Andy mumbles, faux-annoyed. Tom just laughs, holding him closer.

"I'm just glad I could help," he says.

"Please tell me you didn't ride my cock just to help."

"Well, no, in case you hadn't noticed, I was horny as fuck. I just tried to, you know. Use that to give you a little push. Since you wanted to. Y'know. Also, it was all true. So..."

"Thanks, love," Andy says, earnestly. "I love you."

"I love you more."

They bicker about it, and Andy's smiling the rest of the day.

#it lives #tom sato #tomoichi sato #andy kang #tom x andy #andy x tom #it lives in the woods #ilitw #it lives beneath #ilb #it lives anthology #smut #i am back on my bullshit ig

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