#wait why did this tag complete with pining | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

alaskasmonsters · 1 year

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𝖆 𝖇𝖔𝖜𝖑 𝖔𝖋 𝖗𝖔𝖈𝖐 𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖞 | 𝖕𝖙. 2 (gojo satoru)

pairing: gojo satoru x gn!reader

content: reader has amnesia, pining, oblivious reader, not actually unrequited feelings, misunderstanding, clown behaviour (gojo IS in it after all), fluff, gojo being a softie

w/c: 7.069

summary: your amnesia still wasn't getting better and your confusing feelings for satoru, a man you didn't even remember, didn't help at all. and why did he keep acting so...weird?

a/n: happy april fools! instead of pranking you with a not funny joke like the majority of the internet i decided to give you a gift! the second part you’ve been waiting for for months haha…🥲 i hope the word count makes up for it a little as this did end up long!! i completely underestimated how much work this would be so forgive me for the v long wait 🙏🙏 i hope i didn’t forget to tag anybody!!this time i also can finally say that this is being posted on April fools because gojo is a jOKE! peace and love on planet earth ❤️ alsoo i coloured the header myself as a little extra hehe.

part 1

So. You were in love with Satoru. No biggie.

You had fallen in love before, maybe even times that lay beyond the reach of your current memories. Loves that weren’t him. Loves that had been lost in the darkness of the six years you couldn’t remember anymore. Years that you feared you would never get back again.

Six years.

You stared back at the reflection in your mirror, hands absentmindedly picking at your hair. You’ve been trying to make it look nice for the past half an hour but whenever you felt like you were happy enough with how it looked you made up your mind and started tugging at it again.

You just couldn’t decide how to wear it, whether to smooth it down or mess it up, or maybe use any product. You couldn’t remember how you used to wear it. This haircut wasn’t familiar to you. Hell, not even your face was familiar to you. Your cheeks used to be rounder, your eyebags weren't as prominent before and you couldn’t tell whether you looked tired or you were just growing old.

“26 isn’t old, you dork”, is what Satoru had told you when you had complained to him about it. It was, though, when you couldn’t remember anything past twenty.

You sighed, dropping your head against the glass of your bathroom mirror, the glass fogging where your warm breath hit it.

Yeah, that you were in love with a man you couldn’t remember was only the tip of the iceberg your ‘life-past-amnesia’ ship was steadily heading towards. It was already a mess by itself, sure, but things were worse, way worse than they seemed at first glance. At least they were in this new life that included curses and amnesia spells.

It wasn’t just that you didn’t remember Satoru. Not how you’ve met or how you’ve fallen in love with him. All the moments that had slowly tipped you over the edge or maybe. Maybe there was only one moment that had made you fall for him. Brutal and quick, like a punch to the face. You had a few pictures, the doodle and the promise of the bowl of rock candy. The candy that you were allergic to but Satoru loved. Candy you probably bought just for him to grab handfuls of it and stuff it into his pockets when he came over to visit. 26-year-old you must be helplessly in love.

The tip of the iceberg though? You didn’t think Satoru returned your feelings. Or the 26-year-old you's feelings at least. Considering how he’s behaved after finding out about your amnesia you were certain that the man only saw you as a friend. Sure, maybe he’s been trying to distance himself from you emotionally, because you not remembering him was hard for him, but that didn’t mean anything. After all, if Satoru felt the same way, if the both of you had been more than friends…wouldn’t he have told you?

Yeah, he was very strict with the “Don’t tell Y/N anything about the past 6 years” rule but certainly, this would be an exception.

Which meant your love wasn’t just helpless, but also unrequited.

You sighed, burying your fingers in your hair again and suppressing the need to rip your hair out.

26-year-old you was such a loser.

You gave yourself a minute to grieve the loss of your nonexistent coolness, then you straightened up again, carding your fingers through your hair to fix the mess you just created.

You’ve been losing your mind about this issue for way too long already. It’s like you couldn’t think about anything else anymore but Satoru and your feelings for him. Which was ridiculous. You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about this since last week when you’d first realized that you had liked him, back in your living room when he’d confirmed to you that it was him who drew that ugly sketch for you, the one that looked like the drawing of a child.

Well…it wasn’t ugly…it was kinda cute. Knowing him you could imagine he was doing it to annoy you…or maybe because he tried to make you laugh? When thinking of the little sticky note you could almost picture his wide grin and the way he must have praised himself for drawing such a wonderful masterpiece just for you. Maybe he’d poked your cheek and made fun of your annoyed expression. Maybe he had kissed your cheek right after you’d told him to stop being a menace, giggling against your skin, breath warm and tickl…

Not that he’d done that before. Kiss your cheek. Why did you picture him doing that?

You shook yourself out of your thoughts. This was getting pathetic. Now that you remembered your feelings for him it was almost like they were trying to rush back into your body, like a wave being pulled back to land with force. And with the feelings, the wishful thinking, the yearning, came.

Not that any of it was real. Your feelings were just a projection of your subconsciousness because you knew you were supposed to have them! And your thoughts were just you being a hopeless romantic, imagining sweet moments between you and Satoru that never happened.

You barely knew the man. After all, it's been three weeks now, since that day you’ve woken up without your memories. Three weeks. And nothing. Your memories hadn’t returned and you were unable to recall anything from the past 6 years. There was only this stupid feeling of deja-vu you had when Satoru had shown you his eyes and the instinct to call him by his first name when you scolded him. And now those lingering romantic feelings.

But that didn’t count. It was not enough.

Why did you like Satoru? Why were you in love with him? You wanted to know so badly you felt like you were going insane. It couldn’t be just because he was pretty, right? You weren’t that shallow, right?

Not that he hadn’t displayed any good qualities so far. He was funny and attentive, he knew your favourite foods and paid attention to what you told him. At the same time he was one of the most annoying people you remember ever meeting and a little infuriating about 50 percent of the time…okay maybe more like 70 percent. And he thought it was funny, too, when he was being an annoying asshole. He always laughed at your sour expression.

But…his laugh was kind of cute. Even if he was being a prick, you couldn’t stay mad at him for long when you heard him laugh because he kind of snorted when he did and it was ador…Stop.

You grit your teeth and spun around to leave your bathroom. You’ve been spending way too much in there trying to fix your hair, anyway. You were starting to behave weirdly, thinking about Satoru’s laugh and his eyes and his everything.

Fuck. This was bad. Were you actually in love with him now? Not 26-year-old you. But this you. Even without your memories of him? Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic.

You stomped through your bedroom, glancing at the clock on your nightstand, the time reading 2:30 PM, before ripping open your closet. You had another 10 minutes. You can’t believe you’ve wasted so much time just being distracted with your hair and thoughts. You were sure that when you had entered the bathroom it had only been around 2 PM.

You quickly grabbed some pants and a shirt, deeming both acceptable before slipping into them, almost stumbling over your feet as you tried to climb into the pants and then almost hitting your elbow against the closet door as you pulled your shirt over your head. One look in the mirror and you pulled the shirt over your head again. It looked stupid. Not a good fit with the pants.

You started rummaging through your closet again, internally scolding yourself for even bothering that much. You were only going out to grab food with Satoru. It wasn’t a big deal, you were sure you’d done that all the time.

Satoru had told you he’d pick you up. He hadn’t told you where you were going because it was supposed to be a “surprise” but knowing him it wouldn’t be anything too fancy. At least you hoped it wasn’t. He would have told you if it was, right?

You stopped and looked down at your pants. They would work, right?

You shook your head. Again. You did that a lot now.

You finally decided on a button-up shirt, a little bit too big on you but the material was soft and it looked good. You had to roll up the sleeves a little but then you only had to slip into some shoes and you were ready.

Just in time, because that was the moment you heard your front door open and Satoru’s voice calling your name in a sing-song voice.

You groaned, having half a mind to stomp out of your bedroom and throw him out of your apartment.

“Just because you have a key doesn’t mean you can just come in!” You called through your closed bedroom door – you had expected him to wander into your apartment unannounced.

His laugh was just as cute when the door’s wood muffled it.

“I told you I would be here by 2:30, Yn-chan. I’m on time!”

You looked back at the clock to find he was right. He was on time. Didn’t mean he didn’t have to knock. This was your apartment, after all. He didn’t live here.

You looked at yourself in the mirror one more time, giving your outfit a once-over and letting your fingers smooth down your hair one more time before you opened your door and stepped out of your room.

“One day you’re gonna walk in on me naked and you will not survive that because I will kill you,” you scolded Satoru, waving your finger at him in a warning.

The man just snickered at your comment, grinning widely as his eyes fell on you. His eyes were neatly hidden behind his sunglasses yet again. Still, you didn’t miss the way they looked you over, studying you with badly concealed amusement.

You frowned, tensing. Did you look weird?

“Any special occurrence I don’t know about?” Satoru asked innocently, cocking his head at you.

You blinked. “What? Why?”

He didn’t answer immediately but his grin didn’t waver.

You looked down at your outfit again, wondering if it was too fancy. You knew this wasn’t a date or anything but you couldn’t help but put a little effort into your looks. Maybe it was a little more than you’d usually wear but you didn’t think it was too on the nose.

When you didn’t seem to understand what Satoru was referring to he took pity on you and stepped closer.

“Where did you get the shirt from?” He asked, tone light, as he reached out to tug at our sleeve.

You looked down at it, wondering why he wanted to know so badly. The shirt looked like any other. There was nothing really special about it. Maybe it was a little bigger on you but you had plenty of oversized clothes.

“I don’t know. My closet.” You shrugged.

Satoru rolled his eyes beneath his glasses.

“Try to remember!” he insisted, tapping your forehead.

You sighed, tired of this specific game. Still, you knew you had no choice but to indulge him. He was only trying to help you, after all.

“A gift,” you suggested.

Satoru smiled.

“Very good.”

“Really?” you asked, surprised but excited.

He hummed. “It used to be mine.”

You felt your cheeks heat up. Well…that was something.

“And you gave it to me? Why?”

Satoru cocked his head to the side, looking at you expectantly.

You groaned and hit his arm lightly. “I don’t know! Just tell me.”

The grin that snuck on his face was mischievous with an edge of…something. Something that made you feel a little dizzy. When he answered his voice was deeper than before, an edge of huskiness to it.

“You look cuter in it than I do, Yn-chan.”

You caught yourself before your mouth could drop open, and you could do something stupid like actually swoon. Instead, you scoffed and turned your back to him, pretending to reach for your bag, giving you an opportunity to hide your reddening face from his prying eyes.

Why did he have to say it like that? Was he trying to be a little shit?

Satoru chuckled as if he knew what you were doing. It didn’t help at all with the warmth in your cheeks. You grind your teeth as you slung your bag over your shoulder, then decide against it, only grabbing your keys and wallet to stuff into the pocket of your jacket. You let out a quiet breath to collect yourself before turning back towards the man. He waited patiently with a small grin on his lips.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

You hummed and moved past him to step towards the door. You reached for the handle, then you paused. Feeling Satoru’s gaze linger at the back of your head, you touched a hand to your hair again, fiddling with a strand in the back you felt was not sitting right.

Your lip jutted out in frustration and you had half a mind to excuse yourself to the bathroom to return to your earlier attempt at making your hair sit okay. Before you could do it, you heard Satoru approaching.

Turning back, the apology you were about to mutter died on your tongue as you saw him leaning over you. His expression was serious as he caught your wrist between your fingers and moved your hand to the side before he started softly moving his fingers through your hair instead. You froze, standing still as he combed down once, twice, giving a harsh tug to one of your strands before he pulled back with a satisfied smile.

“Here we go. What would you do without me?”

His voice sounded so so soft.

You swallowed, trying to calm your fluttering heart down as you blinked up at the man who was regarding you with warm eyes. Oh no, oh no no no. 26-year-old you had a point. They had a good point.

“Does it…look better?” You asked nervously, your hand moving up to touch your hair carefully before Satoru batted it away and chided you for trying to mess with his good work.

You glared at him, knowing full well your gaze had lost its heat, and he just chuckled.

“Your hair looks beautiful as always, Y/n chan, I just helped improve it,” he soothed you, waving his hand with a silly grin.

You bit your lip, averting your gaze.

“I guess it’s just different from what I remember.”

He hummed noncommittally. Then he opened the door wide, waving his other hand to motion you to go first. The crooked smile resting on his face at that moment did not leave your mind all night.

—

“You’re such a chicken, Yn-cha,” Satoru teased.

You gasped, offended. “Am not!”

He poked your cheek with a soft chuckle. “Such a chicken!”

You batted his hand away, contemplating for a second if you should just bite it. You had quickly noticed that Satoru drove one to measurements like those. Would you ever consider biting anyone else’s hand? No, not in a million years. But the man was so infuriating sometimes it just awoke this urge in you.

Satoru grinned like he knew exactly what you had thought, wiggling his fingers in the air between you as if to dare you to do it. Sometimes it really seemed like he could read your mind. You blamed it on your apparently close friendship before the whole amnesia thing.

When you didn’t actually attempt to sink your teeth into his skin he let his hand fall to the side and stuck out his tongue. You punched his arm with a huff, leading him to let out a dramatic whine.

You couldn’t believe you actually liked this dork. It was still a mystery to you, even now that you’ve finally accepted your fate. After the not-date, it was hard not to. The night wasn’t very eventful, you had only visited a little ice cream parlour and walked around the city a little.

Satoru had been an absolute menace and dragged you into all kinds of souvenir shops – like he didn’t live here in Tokyo…

But he’d been funny and charming despite everything. He had opened doors for you and had insisted you linked your arms together. “So I don’t lose you,” he had joked but it had sent butterflies fluttering through your stomach regardless. You had even ended up sharing a milkshake because Satoru had insisted.

It had felt like a date. It really had. But it couldn’t have been. Satoru would have told you. If there was anything going on between the two of you he would tell you. He wouldn’t keep something as big as you two being in a relationship to himself. Amnesia rules be damned.

But even if it wasn’t a date, it had only made you understand 26-year-old you’s affection towards him more. How were you meant to not fall in love with Satoru if that was how he treated you all the time?

Didn’t mean you could let him know about that, though.

The man was still pestering you, digging his finger into your side and making you squeal and squirm away.

“Come on, tell me,” he urged you with a whine, “Who is the better-looking sorcerer? Me, and you know you want to tell me, you have to follow your heart, or boring businessman Nanami?”

Yeah…that was what Satoru has been annoying you about for the last five minutes on your way to Shoko’s office. Five minutes. And only because you had passed Nanami on your way there and Satoru had noticed your eyes following the man after he had nodded politely at you in greeting and given Satoru a deadpan stare before he walked past you.

Since then Satoru was relentless in his quest to find out if you thought Nanami was more attractive than him because well…Satoru was a menace. And his ego was apparently very fragile.

“And I told you, I cannot answer this question honestly because your ego wouldn’t survive the fall, now cut it out, you big baby,” you teased him and pushed his hand away.

Satoru shook his head, not ready to give up yet. If the shit-eating grin on his face was anything to go by.

“You’re such a chicken, Yn-chan. You’re just too embarrassed to admit how attractive you think I am. You think I’m gorgeous. It’s okay to admit I am the most handsome guy you’ve ever seen.”

You rolled your eyes, hating that he was right. Nanami was a very attractive man. Unfortunately, you’ve found yourself more drawn to pretty men with gorgeous eyes and annoying personalities and an ego the size of all of Tokyo. Skill issue on your part.

“Sure, that’s it,” you deadpanned and Satoru hummed with delight.

“Admitting this takes strength, I know.” He gave a solemn nod and reached to pat your shoulder but you shoved him and sent him stumbling to the side, laughing.

You had to hide your smile.

You arrived at Shoko’s office only a little bit later. Satoru knocked but barely waited until the woman told them to come in before pushing the door open and sticking his head through the gap, giving a cheerful greeting.

You heard Shoko groan before being dragged into the office by Satoru, his grip around your shoulder as he pulled you in front of him. The woman’s features softened at your sight, the lines in her forehead smoothing out again. You waved at her with a small smile, understanding the annoyance Satoru was able to awaken in people.

“I’ll leave them in your hands,” Satoru announced, grabbing both your shoulders and pushing you forward like a mother presenting her child.

“They’re not a child, you idiot,” Shoko sighed.

The man’s only reply was a smile, as he patted your shoulders innocently. You glared at him and called him a jerk and Satoru laughed. Before he finally let go of you again he gave your shoulders a squeeze as if to ensure you he’d be back, then he retracted towards the door.

“Remember! No memory discussion! Alright, bye. I’ll pick you up in an hour.” He waved at both of you before slipping out of the office and closing the door behind him.

“I feel like I was just handed off to daycare,” you sighed and Shoko snickered.

“He’s very protective of you.” She said it in a voice that sounded neither like she was excusing his behaviour nor like she was scolding him. “Could be less annoying about it, though.”

You hummed in agreement, taking a seat on the small sofa in the corner of the room. Shoko watched you quietly from where she was sitting behind her desk, tapping her fingers against the wood.

“I can imagine you’re getting frustrated by being asked this so much, but do you remember anything yet?”

You sighed, having expected that question. It’s been almost a month, after all. You knew that this was probably going on longer than any of them had expected. “No? I mean. Other than a few deja vus, if that counts.”

She nodded, staring thoughtfully at the screen of her computer.

“Any other symptoms? Headaches? Nausea? Blackouts? Any physical pain? More tired than usual? Numbness?”

You shook your head, a small smile on your lips. “No, Doctor, no other symptoms.”

Shoko blinked, looking taken aback. Her eyes darted back towards you, then she burst out into quiet laughter.

You frowned, confused.

“You’re still calling me out even without your memories,” She mused to herself when she calmed down, “Can’t help it, really.”

You leaned back into the cushions of the couch, feeling warm at the sound of Shoko’s laugh. For some reason, you felt incredibly pleased.

“So you do this a lot then. Turn on the doctor mode,” you asked her with a teasing tone, wondering if you could get any information out of her without Satoru being around to shush her.

She rolled her eyes.

“You complain about me mothering you too much when you get sick. But wouldn’t have to if you weren’t such a difficult patient.”

You lightened up, grinning. “Mh, yeah, I like to ignore my illnesses until they go away.”

Shoko gave you an unimpressed look, seemingly displeased by how unashamed you were about it. You just shrugged. The woman decided to let it go, only muttering something to herself you couldn’t hear from the distance but were sure was about you being a brat.

“Has Satoru been pestering you a lot about the memory thing? I bet he is, that idiot.”

Your smile fell.

“No, actually, he barely asks about it,” you admitted, your eyes falling to your lap. “I feel like he’s pretending to be less bothered by it than he actually is.”

“Oh?” Shoko asked, but she didn’t sound surprised by your observation at all.

You narrowed your eyes at her. “You know.”

“Why Satoru is holding you at arm’s length? Take a guess.”

“I don’t know. I barely know him.”

Shoko shook her head, raising an eyebrow at you.

“You know him quite well. You just don’t remember. At least consciously.”

You frowned, sitting up. “What do you mean?”

Shoko leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, regarding you with a calm gaze.

“You said you were having deja vus?”

You nodded, telling her about when you had called Satoru by his first name for the first time and the feeling you’ve had when the man had pulled off his glasses and showed you his eyes. How you’d felt like it hadn’t been the first time.

That last part brought an amused smile to the women’s lips. “Of course, he’d try to copy that.”

You perked up at her words. “So that did happen before!”

Shoko hummed. “Which just proves my suspicions. Subconsciously you still remember the past six years.” She raised her hand and motioned towards you. “You instinctively know how to engage with your environment and with the people you are close friends with. You recognise familiar situations and you still seem to feel the same way towards us. You just fail to consciously access your memories.”

You frowned, not quite understanding what the woman was saying. Were feelings connected to memories? Could you being in love with Satoru be a sign that your memories weren’t as removed as you had first suspected?

Shoko, who noticed your confusion, explained further, “Y/n, I remember when you first got here. It took you months until you opened up to us more and started warming up to Satoru. Even though you are now affected by amnesia you didn’t revert back to that state. You still act as you did a month ago before you lost your memories.”

So the loss of memories wasn’t really the issue, you just couldn’t access them.

“So…what do you think I should do?”

She shrugged. “Trust your instincts.”

You sighed. Right. Your instincts. Like you could trust them when they were so ridden with your wistful yearning. What if you told Shoko that your instincts were screaming at you to wrap your arms around Satoru, bury your head in his chest and stay there? That your instincts were screaming at you to grab his face and kiss him. That your instincts were telling you that the two of you should be dating and that it was unfair how you were stuck with those feelings instead of 26-year-old you who actually knew how to deal with them.

Shoko clicked her tongue and let out a snort, making you look up with panic. Had you said any of that out loud?

“What?”

She shook her head. “I can’t believe that jerk pulled the eye move but not that stupid hand thing with Infinity on you.”

“Infinity?” you questioned, feeling like the word felt familiar to you.

“It’s one of his curse techniques.” Shoko looked up to the ceiling, pursing her lips.

Then she started to explain to you, as simply as possible, what Infinity was and how it worked. You listened to her with wide eyes, feeling yourself grow a little dizzy.

“Infinity?” You echoed.

“Infinity.” Shoko repeated again, raising an eyebrow at your pale face. “I know you don’t remember anymore but there is no need to look so terrified.”

“So no one…can touch him?”

“Without his permission, yes. The jerk turns it off sometimes when he pleases.” She rolled her eyes.

At your silence she turns to you, a frown twisted her face. “What is wrong?”

“I just…we’re kind of touching all the time.”

Shoko gave you a look and you blushed, cheeks exploding in warmth. That sounded…not like you had wanted it to sound.

“No…not like that, it’s just- casual, I guess. But…”

Shoko grinned. “I see.” Then she burst out into laughter.

You felt yourself blushing even more, lips jutting out in a pout. “What’s so funny?”

“The asshole always turns it off around you. It’s probably subconscious at this point.”

You blinked. “He does?”

Shoko lifted a brow, giving you an amused look. “Surprised?”

“I- of course!”

Why wouldn’t you be? You wouldn’t put it past Satoru to turn on Infinity whenever you hit his arm or shove him just to annoy you.

Shoko just shrugged, eyes twinkling with mirth as she told you, “Some motivation to remember I guess.”

“Shoko!” You whined.

The woman just chuckled again. “You could try to surprise him. Touch him when he doesn’t suspect it. Just to test the theory.”

Yeah…maybe you’d do that.

—

You sighed, watching Satoru empty the bowl of rock candy you’d just restocked the other day, grabbing a handful of them before throwing himself back down on the couch. Your eyes followed his fingers as he skillfully unwrapped each candy with one hand before Satoru stuffed them into his mouth. He hummed appreciatively every time.

You couldn’t believe a 26-year-old you was so desperately in love with him to be indulging this behaviour.

“I didn’t stock them up just for you to eat all of it within a day.”

Satoru turned his head a little in your direction but his glasses were hiding his intended side-eye.

“But you got them for me, didn’t you?”

He grinned as you stayed silent, knowing he’s seen right through you.

“You’re so sweet, Y/n-chan.”

You huffed. “Shut up. Who says I got them for you?”

“You’re allergic and as you’ve said before I am the only one who’s shown up to your apartment the past few weeks. Who else would you get them for?”

You leaned back in the chair, eyes resting on the bowl on your desk. “My secret boyfriend obviously.”

Satoru hummed. “I thought you came to the conclusion he didn’t exist.”

You bit your lips, glad he has turned with his back towards you again so he couldn’t see your conflicted expression. Maybe you’d just come to the conclusion that you wished Satoru was the secret boyfriend…

You couldn’t stop thinking about that conversation Shoko and you had had that day. About Satoru’s distance, about your lingering feelings despite the memory ‘loss’ and about Infinity. Especially that last part hadn’t left you any peace. What reason was there for Satoru to shut it off around you? Even when you threatened him with your chopsticks? Or was it just another amnesia rule? Did he want you to remember Infinity by yourself?

You frowned, eyes gazing towards his seat on the couch. He was still happily munching on his candy, his back exposed to you.

What had Shoko said? You should try to test him by touching him when he didn’t expect it? This way he couldn’t just shut it off at the last moment. This way you’d know for sure if he automatically disabled it around you.

Your fingers itched and you balled your hands into fists to stop yourself from tapping them against your thighs. You were sitting close enough that if you leaned forward you would be able to touch him. He was still busy with the candy, making happy noises.

Your eyes zoned in on the uncovered patch of skin on his neck, a pale stripe peeking out between his hair and his collar.

Satoru made a questioning sound in the back of his throat and you realised he was still expecting an answer.

“How do I know you’re not just keeping him away from me? Maybe it’s just another one of your amnesia rules.” You tried to joke, keeping your voice steady.

He snickered, shoulders shaking as his head fell forwards a little, exposing even more skin of his neck.

You stared at it, feeling your heartbeat out of your chest.

“Though I definitely have the power to do that I don’t think-”

You pushed your finger against the skin of Satoru’s neck.

The man stopped, neither flinching nor moving away. He just waited.

Your eyes went wide, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your finger. He hadn’t activated Infinity. He couldn’t even have known that you would touch him. Your mind was reeling.

“Sorry, you-uh-there…there was a hair!” You yelled out, voice rising an octave, as you swiped your finger down his skin to pretend like you were brushing it away.

Then you quickly snatched your hand away.

“I see. Thank you.” Satoru’s tone was unreadable again. And he still didn’t turn around.

Not that it would have helped ease your mind to see his expression, not when the glasses were hiding his true feelings by covering his eyes.

“Of course.” You laughed awkwardly, now wanting nothing more than to bend forward and press your lips to the spot you had just touched.

You shock yourself out of that thought. Get a grip.

You cleared your throat. “So you have… the power to keep my secret boyfriend away, huh?”

It was meant to lighten the mood, maybe get rid of the sudden tension you felt between the two of you. But Satoru stayed quiet for a while.

“I’m the strongest.” He said it like it was a fact and for some reason, you didn’t doubt him.

You smiled. “Maybe he’d get very upset if he found out you ate all his candy and would try to fight you.”

“I’d win,” Satoru insisted, finally turning around to look at you, a smirk lifting the corner of his lips.

And then with one smooth move, he bent over the back of the couch and snatched the bowl of rock candy from your desk. You gasped, watching in shock as the man dug his hand in the contents and fished out even more candy than he had before.

You jumped up, reaching for the bowl.

“Give it to me.”

“Nope.” Satoru laughed, holding his hand out of your reach.

You bent over the back of the couch, stabilising yourself on his shoulder as you climbed half over the backrest, Satoru’s laughter filling the air with your annoyed yells.

“Satoru stop being a little shit. I just bought these. That’s way too much sugar for you.”

You reached over him, catching his wrist and almost losing balance and falling but were able to catch yourself in the last moment, luckily not smashing your foreheads together in the process. Wait…foreheads?

You froze, hands still holding his wrist as you realized that you were now sitting in Satoru’s lap.

Like actually sitting in Satoru’s lap. Butt on thighs. Sitting.

You…what?

You couldn’t move, you tried to will yourself to do something. Anything. But your body didn’t respond, too overwhelmed that you were sitting on Satoru’s lap.

The man looked unbothered, eyes twinkling with mischief as your cheeks exploded with heat and you kind of wanted to slap him because what the fuck?

You let go of his wrists and quickly tried to move back and out of his lap but had to have Satoru save you from losing balance and almost falling backwards in your attempts. Which he did by grabbing your waist with his hands and pulling you back in his lap, letting go of the candy still in his hand. The sound of them clattering to the floor filled the following silence.

“Careful,” he chided you, voice playful.

You stared at him, eyes darting between the dark lenses of his sunglasses and across his face as you tried to work out what was happening.

“See something you like?” he teased, hands still comfortably resting on your waist.

That’s what you noticed suddenly. He hadn’t let go of you. No, he was keeping you in his lap, like he wanted you there. And what he just said…was he flirting?

Seriously flirting?

You reached forward, not knowing what possessed you as your fingers traced the frames of Satoru’s glasses before softly plucking them from his face. The man didn’t stop you. He remained still, unblinkingly staring up at you with those blue eyes that mirrored the sky. You folded the glasses absentmindedly and clipped them to his shirt before your hand reached for his face again. The cap of your finger brushed the skin of his cheek, barely able to notice the softness of it when you came back to yourself. What the fuck were you doing.

You reeled back, almost falling out of Satoru’s lap again if it wasn’t for the man’s grip around you.

“Why are you fighting it?” His voice was suddenly serious.

You blinked, overwhelmed by what had just happened, what was still happening.

“Fighting what?” You breathed out, flexing your fingers in his grip.

Without much explanation, he pulled your hand back to its previous position a few inches away from his face before letting go again.

“Trust your instincts and stop fighting them, otherwise your memories will never return.”

You swallowed.

“What if it’s not instincts?”

He cocked his head. You didn’t continue your sentence.

What if it was merely your feelings for him? What if you messed things up for 26-year-old you?

Gojo sighed, shoulders falling and for a second you saw disappointment fleet through his gaze before it was replaced with a feigned expression of amusement.

“You’re such a chicken.”

He straightened up and you realised that he was letting you go, that you could get out of his lap now. Instead, you did something stupid.

You grabbed his face with both of your hands and waited long enough to see him perk up in surprise, eyes wide as they stared up at you, and then you leaned down to press your lips against his.

Satoru didn’t even wait until your lips were fully connected before he pushed forward, head tilting until your mouths could slot together perfectly. Something in your chest fluttered as he pulled you closer against him, your chests being pressed together. You gasped into his mouth. He used that opportunity to deepen the kiss, slipping his tongue past your lips and you followed his guidance, letting yourself sink into the sensation. You shuddered against him, overwhelmed with the feeling of him but at the same time, it felt normal…a little bit like you were coming home.

You both pulled back to catch your breath, not moving far away, noses still close enough to almost touch. This was insane. You couldn’t help staring at him, his eyes looked so bright and a little crazy. You just noticed how impossibly blue they were. Bluer than the sky even, like they contained a whole other universe in them.

You swallowed, tongue darting out to wet your tingling lips, the taste of sugar lingering there. You didn’t pay any attention to it, too distracted by the excitement that bloomed in your chest when Satoru’s eyes darted down to follow the moment.

A laugh bubbled past your throat at the absurdity of it all. Only yesterday you wouldn’t have thought it possible that Satoru would let you kiss him, much less kiss you back. That you’d been sitting here in his lap, all because of…well…

“You deactivated it.” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

“Mh?”

“When I touched your neck. Infinity.”

His eyes widened, finding yours. “You remember that?”

You gave his cheek an apologetic squeeze, “Shoko told me.”

He visibly deflated. “So you still remember nothing?”

Yeah…there was still that. Your memories. You swallowed, eyes darting down to his lips again and you remembered what Shoko had told you. What Satoru had just told you. You have to trust your instincts.

“I can’t tell if it’s a memory or more of a feeling. But I think we’ve kissed before.”

“Oh yeah?” Satoru teased, visibly brightening up again.

“Satoru.”

He hummed, fingers squeezing your waist as he pulled you closer against him. Your thumb brushed his cheek and your noses brushed.

“Do feelings count as memories?”

Satoru lifted an eyebrow.

“You’re getting philosophical with me.”

You softly pinched his cheek.

“Would you let me kiss you again?”

His eyebrow quirked up. “Would that help with your memories?”

“Would you let me even if it didn’t?” You whispered, already leaning closer.

“Are you asking these questions to figure me out or because you want to kiss me?” he asked, but his voice sounded hoarse and you could tell that he wanted you to kiss him just as badly as you wanted to kiss him.

“I’m following my instincts,” You muttered and leaned back in to connect your lips again.

Yeah. This was like coming home.

—

After that afternoon you became bolder. Pulling Satoru down for kisses, reaching to hold his hand, sitting close enough your legs were touching, snuggling up to him when you were watching a movie.

To your pleasant surprise the man was accepting your touches with ease, Infinity still shut off around you. You didn’t talk about it at first, happy to just enjoy this new but somehow familiar dynamic you had. But there was really just one explanation for this.

“We’re dating.”

Your statement didn’t seem to surprise Satoru at the very least.

“Is that a question or a statement?” he mused, not even turning around as he prepared your food at the counter of your kitchen.

You closed the distance between the both of you and slung your arms around him, testing, and just like you’d expected, he let you. Not just that, it almost felt like he was leaning into your touch.

“I’m pretty confident,” you hummed, tightening your grip and pressing your face into his side.

“You’re remembering?” Satoru asked but he didn’t sound convinced.

You scrunched your face. “Did I ask you out?”

Satoru tensed and peaked down at you, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Are you guessing?”

You grinned. “I asked you out but you kissed me first.”

His eyes widened. “Y/n…”

Your grin softened into a smile at his hopeful eyes.

“It’s not really remembering, I think. It just…feels right. It’s like I just know it.”

He sighed, reaching out to twirl your hair between his fingers.

“Are you even trying?” He sounded so whiny. It made you giggle again.

“You’re such a jerk. Why didn’t you just tell me we were dating?”

“You need to remember yourself for the curse to wear off,” he justified, but then admitted what you had already suspected, “It was also very funny to watch you squirm and be all flustered around me. You were so embarrassed for wanting to see my eyes.” He giggled to himself. “And to hear about that secret boyfriend of yours you buy those candies for was very entertaining. “

You rolled your eyes. “And you were that secret boyfriend the whole time.”

Discarding the food at the counter the man turned around in your grip so he could sling his arms around you as well. He rested his head on top of yours.

“You never told me you were allergic.”

You shrugged. “You would have made fun of me for being so smitten with you.”

“Because you are! You love me so much!” he sing-sang, rocking you in his arms, making you laugh.

“Yeah, I do,” you agreed softly.

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so-long-soldier-writes · 9 months

Text

Movie Night

kol mikaelson x reader (minor poly!mikaelsons x reader) | requested

summary: kol is unsure about letting his siblings meet you, afraid they'd scare you away and he'd lose his best friend (and the girl he's in love with). but when he finally brings you home one night, his family has a reaction he never would've expected.

tags: mutual crush / pining, flirting, confessions

word count: 2.1k

“They asked to meet you again,” Kol says suddenly, “I keep saying no, but they keep asking.”

You smile a little, curiosity peaked. “What’s the harm?”

“They’re… difficult sometimes. You know how families are.” He bites his tongue, afraid to say too much. You two are best friends; very loving and protective of each other. But there seems to be only two responses that the Mikaelsons ever give: complete obsession or extreme dislike. They could either love you or hate you, and Kol’s not sure which is worse.

“Yeah, but what family isn’t complicated? I’m sure they’re not so bad.”

“Y/N,” he sighs, tone somber, “are you forgetting my brother is Klaus Mikaelson? The greatly feared hybrid that terrorized Mystic Falls before he even arrived to town? And the rest of them are only a diluted version of his madness.”

“You aren’t.”

“You didn’t see me in the 1600s, darling.”

“Well that was then and this is now. I’m not afraid, Kol. I know you’ll keep me safe if they try anything.”

“You know I will. They wouldn’t dare.”

“Then there’s no reason to worry.” You give him another smile.

As soon as he meets your eyes, he looks down immediately. Your smile gives him butterflies. Kol would be lying if he said he didn’t harbor a little crush on you. That’s part of the reason he doesn’t want you to meet them - he’s afraid they’ll scare you away and you’ll want nothing to do with him. “I’ll try not to,” he finally replies.

A few minutes go by before you groan and shuffle in place. “This line isn’t going anywhere.”

The wait time on the screen says fifteen minutes, but it’s been way longer than that. You take a sip of the drink balanced in your arms amongst popcorn and snacks.

“I guess that’s what we get for trying to see a new movie on opening night.”

“Do you still want to see it?”

Kol’s juggling his own handfuls, or else he would’ve taken yours so you wouldn’t have to carry it. When he realized he couldn’t carry yours on top of his own, he apologized. It’s little things like that that make you want to cross the best friend boundary. He’s just so sweet, funny, and gentlemanly. Though you have yourself convinced that you’re way out of his league. I mean, come on - why would an original vampire date a mere human? You shook your head a little to send the thought away.

“Eventually, yeah. But I’m not so committed to this line.”

Lost in your head, you forgot you asked him a question. It takes you a second to ponder a response, but then he continues,

“Alright, how about this? We’ve already got the drinks and snacks, so why don’t we go to my house and watch something there? It’s plenty dark, usually quiet. It’ll be just like the movies.”

“Wait, did you say at your house?” Usually your own house is the movie destination. Did Kol just propose to go to his instead?

He shrugs, “my family wants to meet you, you aren’t intimidated by them. They might be there and I could introduce you, or we could slip in and watch a movie in peace.” You’re stunned for a minute, and he starts to take it as hesitation. “Unless you don’t want to. I understand completely if you don’t.”

“No, we should! I’d love to meet your family, Kol, no matter how scary.”

“Okay.” He puts a smile over top of his worry while he fishes his keys from his coat pocket. “I’ll drive.”

On the short ride to his house, he gives you a basic rundown of each of his siblings. He knows you already know most of what he’s telling you, but it distracts him from his nerves. And you, recognizing he seems more antsy than usual, listen quietly.

“So to summarize, they’re all pretty outspoken, very protective, and often threatening, but if you’re someone they care about, you have nothing to fear.”

Kol swallows hard at that. You’ve got it on the nose, but your awareness doesn’t give him much comfort. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Okay, cool. Let’s go.”

To his horror, all three siblings are in the living room at that moment. As soon as the two of you enter, all eyes snap to you.

“Well that was a quick movie,” Rebekah had started. Then she sees her brother’s company. “And who might you be?”

“Bex, Nik, ‘Lijah, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is the family.”

“Hi!” You greet them with a smile.

For a second, they only stare. Though Elijah’s first to speak, “Very nice to meet you, Y/N. I suppose you are the friend my brother speaks of so often?” When you nod, he continues. “My, was he right when he said you were beautiful. Those e/c eyes remind me so much of the stained glass windows they used to make in the 1100s. Kol, do you recall it?”

Once he gets over the perplexed feeling running in his head, Kol clears his throat. “I do, brother. And yes, Y/N is quite beautiful, as I told you. She’s a good friend.”

“More than beautiful,” Klaus compliments, “she’s a work of art. Would you like to sit, love?”

Your face turns red as the men praise your features. Your response comes out in a stutter. “U-um, I’m okay. The movie we tried to see had a really long line, so Kol suggested we just come here to watch one instead.”

“Kol suggested it? I’m surprised he would let us meet you. He’d been denying our curiosities for months.”

“Don’t put her on the spot, Nik, she’s-”

“Oh, she’s fine, brother. She’s doing well for someone in her position. Y’know,” Klaus twirls a strand of your hair between his fingers, “it must be quite intimidating to meet a whole family of original vampires all at once.”

Don’t scare her, Niklaus! Ease up on the poor girl,” Rebekah interrupts, swatting his hand from you. “And don’t touch her without her permission.”

“I’m sorry, love. Your hair just looked too soft.”

“It’s alright. But um, yeah, it’s a bit intimidating, but I’m not easily shaken.” You straighten your back. “I was actually wanting to meet you all, too.”

“See if we live up to the tales?” Rebekah teases. Her eyes stare into yours, and you find it hard to maintain eye contact.

“Not really,” you admit, “just wanted to meet Kol’s siblings. Out of curiosity.”

“Ah. So are your expectations met?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t know what to expect.”

Elijah then steps forward. “Tell us this, Miss Y/N. Do you feel safe in this moment? Or would you like Kol to take you away from here?”

It’s an odd question, even to Kol. The man’s throat dries and he narrows his eyes. Is his brother threatening or welcoming you?

“I um…”

“Please, be honest.”

“I’m good. I mean, I feel safe.”

Elijah’s straight lips curve into a smile. “Delightful. It was an honor meeting you, Miss Y/N.”

“T-thank you. You too, Elijah. All of you, I’m glad we got to meet.”

“I second that,” Klaus approaches you again, “what a lovely girl my brother’s brought home to meet the family.”

“Friends, Niklaus,” Elijah mutters under his breath. It’s quiet, but you can still hear it. “He’s said they’re just friends.”

Klaus gives the man a look, like he’s doubtful of that, but then turns back to you. “Apologies. What a lovely friend you are to my brother. Perhaps, if you’re available later, we can talk more. I’ll show you one of my favorite paintings. The shade is just like that of your skin.” His eyes travel your body like it’s a piece of art, and you can’t help but blush.

“Okay. I’ll be sure to stay a while after the movie.”

“Wonderful!”

The eldest two leave you with the youngest two. Kol, teeth clenched in aggravation, turns to direct you to his room. His sister, however, beats him to your attention.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Y/N, as my brothers have said. My, my, I sure do see why Kol speaks so highly of you.” She smirks a little. “Enjoy your movie, and if you need anything, I’m just down the hall.” As she walks away, she flashes you a wink, then disappears.

Kol wastes no time bringing you to the lounge room where he and Bex used to kill time some hundred years ago. He explained in the car that they’d watch old black and white films in there together, while their brothers were off running amuck. Even now, they still retire to the darkened room for the occasional movie.

“Sorry about that,” he says the minute he shuts the door.

You cock your head at him. “Sorry about what?”

“Them.”

“What about it? They were nice.”

“Y/N…”

“What? Were they not nice? Is that their ‘not nice’ behavior?”

“No, darling. That was actually the nicest I’ve ever seen them.”

“Then what’s the-”

“They were all flirting with you, darling. Ogling you. Not a care about it.”

“Oh,” you whisper, realizing he might be right.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. We shouldn’t’ve come here.”

“Wait, Kol, it’s alright. I don’t mind.”

“No, it was totally inappropriate. In fact, I should talk to them about not doing it in the future.” He starts to rant. You’ve learned to not interrupt Kol when he’s ranting, because he’ll miss every word you say. “God, I didn’t want them to see you because I thought they’d scare you off, but I didn’t think they’d so openly hit on you! Elijah, too, where did his manners go? And I mean, I know why they were. You’re gorgeous, Y/N, and I’d want you, too, but…” he stops, realizing what he had admitted.

Your heart leaps out of your chest, but then falls to the hard ground all at once. I’d want you, too, but…

“But what?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Kol.”

“It’s nothing, darling.”

“Kol, tell me. Please!”

He takes a deep breath. “I can’t have you. I can’t put you in that kind of danger. Being your friend puts you at risk enough, but if we were anything more, you’d become a target. I can’t let that happen; I can’t let anything bad happen to you.” One glance, he allows himself to take, before dropping his eyes back to the ground. He sees your frown, but misses the way your eyes search for him. “Besides… you’re better off with a human, not someone with such a violent past like myself.”

“Well I’d like to disagree with that last part,” you snort, “your past doesn’t matter to me. Right now is what matters. Also, being a vampire doesn’t make you violent. Plenty of humans are violent.”

“That’s not the point, Y/N, I’m saying-”

“I know what you’re trying to say. But I’m saying I like you regardless of whatever you’ve done in your past. And - since you already admitted it, what’s the harm in me saying it, too? - I like you. More than a friend. I have for a while.”

Finally, he looks up at you and doesn’t break eye contact. “You do?”

“How could I not?”

“But what if you get hurt? If we were to have something?”

“Well, one, you’d protect me. You already do, so why would it be any different now? Two, I don’t care. If that’s the only thing standing in the way of us trying this out, then we’ll just have to face it head-on. And who knows? Maybe it’ll never happen. But I want to be with you, if you want it too.”

“More than you know, darling.”

“Okay,” you breathe out, giddy with excitement. “So what first, boyfriend?” You test the term out, tasting it on your tongue. You like it.

Kol’s smile tells you he likes it, too. “Well I have a great idea for our first date. How about a home movie?”

“Perfect idea. What time?”

“Right now.”

The two of you move to the couch and assemble your drinks and snacks. Only this time, when you sit beside one another, he can confidently put an arm around your back to pull you close.

“A true gentleman waits until at least one date to kiss the girl,” he mutters into your ear, “but that’s not counting these.” Then, you feel a quick kiss to your cheek.

Your face blushes instantly. “Okay, so how about you press play so we can get to the end of the night?”

He senses your quickened heart rate at the thought of getting to kiss him for real. It makes his own heart race, too, but he holds himself back. Instead, he gives you another kiss on the cheek in the meantime. “Oh, we’re just getting started, darling.”

#kol mikaelson x reader #kol mikaelson #kol mikaelson imagine #poly!mikaelsons x reader #tvd fanfiction #tvdu fanfiction #requested

420 notes · View notes

cozage · 11 months

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The Daughter's Return: Chapter Three

Some Friendly Advice

This is a fullblown multichapter fic now. Get ready for a slowburn mutual pining fic full of love and angst and so much drama. I'm sorry in advance (if you want to be tagged in any follow up just reply to this post or send me a message!) Characters: female reader x Portgas D. Ace Word Count: 5k

Part One | Part Four | Table of Contents | Read on A03

You woke up in a bed that wasn’t yours and a room that was much too dark to be a bunkhouse. Marco must’ve brought you back to his cabin after you fell asleep at the party. How embarrassing. You hadn’t even drank that much. Yesterday must've been more exhausting than you realized.

You stretched out your arms, trying to push the sleep out of your body to start the day. Your hand pushed against another body, which was odd. Marco didn’t usually share a bed with you, but it happened sometimes.

“What time is it?” You groaned.

“Not sure.”

The voice that definitely didn’t belong to Marco made you pause. It was hoarse, so it took you a few moments to place it.

“Ace?” Your voice caught in your throat as you spoke.

“Hi.”

You suddenly felt very claustrophobic, sharing such a small space with your commander. When it was Marco you never minded, but this was Ace. And you shared a bed with him last night. You didn’t even remember leaving the party. How on earth did you end up here, in this small and very private room?

Ace must’ve sensed your discomfort. “Nothing happened,” he quickly assured you. “Marco’s door was locked, so I brought you in here to sleep.”

You raised your eyebrow, even though he couldn’t see it. You didn’t believe him. Not completely.

“So why am I in bed with you?”

“Oh. Uh, well-” He sounded abnormally nervous as he stammered on his words, trying to find an explanation. “Uhm, you…kind of asked me to join you?”

Your mouth dropped open, unable to hide your shock. “Bullshit,” you hissed.

“I swear!” Ace said. “I was going to sleep on the floor, I-”

A sharp knock cut him off, and both of your eyes cut to the door.

“Ace!” Marco’s voice called from the other side. “Wake up, man! Pops wants to talk to you.”

You could feel Ace tense at Marco’s words, and you found yourself concerned as well. Nothing happened on the Moby Dick without your father knowing about it. You weren’t sure if that included who spent the night in which rooms, but you prayed that your father didn’t concern himself with things so trivial.

Ace cleared his throat, his eyes darting around the room nervously. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute.”

You scowled at him and his nervous behavior. “If we didn’t do anything, why are-”

You had been whispering, but Ace clamped a hand over your mouth and threw a finger to his lips, silently begging you to be quiet.

Marco’s voice hummed disapprovingly from outside the door. “Ace? Come on.”

You heard the door knob jiggle as Marco tried to enter the room, but thankfully Ace had locked it last night.

“I’ll meet you there!” Ace called out, slight desperation in his voice. You knew that wouldn’t go unnoticed by Marco.

“No way,” Thatch’s muffled voice came from outside the door. “Hurry it up with whoever you got in there and let’s go.”

So it wasn’t just Marco waiting outside. You squinted your eyes in suspicion at Thatch’s words, but Ace just shook his head at you, begging you to be silent.

“I promise I’ll explain everything later, okay?” he whispered as softly as he could. “But I swear on my life, I would never-”

“Ace!” Marco’s voice came again, and you heard a chorus of laughter outside the door.

“Coming!” Ace yelled to the group congregating outside your door. He redirected his attention to you and whispered one last thing. “I would never take advantage of you, or anyone, like that. I swear. We’ll talk later, just stay hidden until we all leave.”

With those words, he jumped out of bed and threw the cover over you. You heard him shuffling around the room getting dressed, and you were thankful for the blanket covering your face. It hid your reddened cheeks from your imagination going wild. A small part of you wanted to peek out from under the covers, but your morning had already been filled with enough embarrassment.

“Damn, Ace,” Curiel hollered through the door. “Who on earth do you have in there? You must be taking your sweet time-”

You heard the creak of the door opening, and you froze. You were under the blanket and safely tucked away from any outsider’s gaze, but you couldn’t help feeling small in this situation.

“Wish it were you?” Ace teased, cutting Curiel off.

“Dude, you look horrible!” Thatch barked out, a gaggle of laughs emitting from various commanders. “What poor soul kept you up last night?”

“Whoever it is, I bet they’re feeling it now!” Another voice quipped, one you didn’t recognize.

You could feel yourself starting to steam with anger, and you forced yourself to calm down. Steam would alert everyone to your presence, and ruin your current anonymity.

“Shut up,” Ace mumbled. He seemed to be equally as annoyed with their jests. He shut the door quickly behind him as you hid under the covers, leaving you alone in the darkness. The sounds of group laughter was shortly followed by heavy footsteps receding, and you finally breathed a sigh of relief. You were finally alone.

You wanted to believe that Ace had brought you to his room on his own accord, but the end of the night was becoming clearer to you by the second. You had asked Ace to go back to his room, asked him to lay in bed with you. You might’ve even taken it a step further and actually slept with him, if he hadn’t been so uneasy about doing so.

Ace certainly wasn’t the one to blame in your current situation. But it did seem like he had some kind of reputation amongst his fellow commanders. Their words made your chest hurt, though you weren’t sure why. You barely knew Portgas D. Ace. It all felt complicated, and made your head spin just from thinking about it.

You groaned, finally removing the cover and looking around the room. Ace’s room was an organized kind of messy. You could see that everything had a place where it kind of belonged. Even if nobody else understood his system, he would.

He didn’t have a lot of things, but the one recurring thing you did see scattered across his room was, strangely enough, sea shells. All of them were different sizes, shapes, and colors. There were probably hundreds scattered around his room. On his desk, on his nightstand, even along his wall. You would have to ask him about it later, if you could ever muster up the courage to speak to him again.

You needed to leave. You didn’t want to be back here when Ace and the other commanders returned. Your stomach rumbled in agreement, and you decided that the dining hall would be your next stop. You opened the door and slipped out into the hallway as quietly as you could. As you clicked the door into place, you gave a quick glance around to see if there had been any witnesses, and your eyes met Izou’s.

Your eyes widened upon the realization. You opened your mouth, debating between begging for his silence or explaining what happened, but Izou held a hand up.

“None of my business, kid,” he said quickly. “It’s already forgotten.”

Izou darted into his room before you had a chance to form any words, leaving you alone in the hallway.

“Thank you,” you muttered to both Izou and the universe as you started down the corridor.

Anyone else would’ve plastered your scandal on the front page of every News Coo they could find. But Izou had always had your back. You weren’t sure why you didn’t go to him for more things instead of Marco. Maybe you should talk to the sixteenth division commander more often.

It was ending breakfast time in the mess hall, so there weren’t many options left. You grabbed a few pastries and sat down with some of your old friends who were always late risers after a party night.

“You! You didn’t come back to the bunkhouse last night!” Whitey announced as you sat down next to her.

You gave her a side glare, and you saw all of your friends perk up at the hint of gossip.

“I always sleep in Marco’s room on party nights,” you said. Which was the truth, just not the truth about last night.

“Marco, huh?” a girl you didn’t know said, with deep curiosity. She had fiery red hair and purple lipstick on. “You’re into older guys then?” she asked.

“Ew,” you said, disgusted with her implication. “Marco is like my brother.” You took a bite of the raspberry pastry you had grabbed. “Or maybe like my uncle?”

“Your hot brother-uncle,” Epoida corrected.

You wrinkled your nose at the thought. “Gross, Epoida.”

“We all have our own tastes, hunny.”

“Clearly.”

“So what’s yours?” the red-haired girl asked you. She was watching you closely, making you a little self-conscious about your disheveled appearance.

“Y/N is the second division strategist now,” Brew said, sitting down next to the red-haired girl. “That title speaks for itself about what she’s into.”

The group turned to look at you in shock. The news must not have spread yet. You wrinkled your nose in disgust again, hoping they didn’t see the blush appearing across your cheeks.

“You’re one to talk, Brew,” you shot back. “You always loved to-”

“I’m settled down now!” Brew remarked, cutting you off before you could finish your sentence. His arm wrapped around the red-haired girl. “This is Sally, and I’m all hers!”

You gave a soft snicker at that, thinking back on all the times Brew had tried to get with you before you had left. “I guess people really can change,” you said snarkily.

Brew stuck his tongue out at you from behind Sally, which made you snort. At least some things never changed.

“When are we supposed to hit the next island?” you asked, hoping to change the subject away from love interests.

“I think tomorrow,” Whitey said, looking out the porthole to the sea. “I hope tomorrow. I need an island day.”

“Makes sense.” You took another bite of your pastry. “We need to restock before the mission next week.”

Apparently that news hadn’t gotten around either, because everyone’s head swiveled to look at you.

“Mission?” Whitey asked.

“How do you know about a new mission?” Epoida demanded.

“Oh, I didn’t know it wasn’t public. It’s not finalized yet,” you said. It wasn’t finalized because you hadn’t gotten the list done. Damn Portgas D. Ace for distracting you so much.

“Did you not know it was a secret because Ace told you?” Brew asked. His voice carried a little tune when he spoke Ace’s name, and you had to grit your teeth to avoid saying something sarcastic.

“It’s actually because I’m the strategist,” you said between clenched teeth. Your hand had turned into a fist, crushing your pastry.

“Brew, cut it out!” Whitey came to your defense, rolling her eyes. “Y/N wouldn’t go for a guy like Ace anyway.”

Epoida nodded. “Ace is way too much of a…” she paused, trying to find the right words.

“Man-whore?” Sally offered.

“Flirt,” Epoida corrected, shooting Sally a look. “He still is a division commander, Sally.”

“Only because he took Y/N’s promised position!” Whitey yelled.

Her upstart caused a few people to glance your way. “Whitey,” you hissed. “It’s fine. Really.”

“Really?” asked Sally. “I thought you’d be more upset from all the stories I heard about you.”

“I’m really okay,” you said truthfully. “I like working with Ace.”

All of the girls gawked at you, their mouths wide open. But Brew busted out into laughter at your comment.

“Oh my god,” Brew wheezed out. “He’s already got you wrapped around his finger.”

“Y/N,” Whitey said, her eyes practically bugging out of her head. “Please tell me you didn’t sleep with him already.”

“What?!? No, of course I didn’t!” you insisted, though it wasn’t necessarily the truth. You had slept in the same bed as him, but you hadn’t slept with him. It was different.

“I swear he’s slept with half the girls on this ship,” Epoida said.

“And half the guys,” Brew added, which got a contemplative nod from everyone at the table.

“Y/N,” Whitey grabbed your shoulders and turned you to stare her straight in the eyes. “You cannot be put under Ace’s spell, okay? Promise me.”

“Whitey, you’re being ridiculous,” you laughed nervously. “He’s not that bad.”

“She’s already been taken,” Brew muttered.

“Poor soul,” Sally said in agreement.

“You guys!” You yelled, shaking Whitey’s grip off you. “It’s not like that! It just-I couldn't-he wanted-”

“She’s hopeless,” Epoida said.

“Would you all stop it!?” you hissed.

“You are going to get your heart broken,” Whitey promised. “Beg Pops to switch divisions. He’ll do it for you. Get as far away from Portgas D. Ace as you can. While you still can. He’s cruel and he’ll only use you. Please trust me on this.”

“Thanks for the advice,” you grumbled, though you didn’t mean it. You had lost your appetite from the conversation, so you picked up your plate and stormed out of the dining hall.

You needed to work. To distract yourself from everything you had heard at breakfast. Unfortunately, those stupid papers were in Ace’s room, and you hadn’t had the foresight to grab those this morning. And after what you had learned at the breakfast table, you weren’t particularly in the mood to go seek him out and talk to him at the moment.

Luck seemed to be on your side at the moment, though. The commander's chambers were empty except for Haruta, who eagerly smiled at you when you entered.

“Hey! How are you?” He asked. “Did you enjoy the party?”

“I did,” you said, politely smiling. “Just have to finish up this report for Pops. Ace isn’t here, is he?”

Haruta frowned at the mention of Ace. “He’s still in the mission meeting.”

“No worries, I think his room is unlocked.” You knew it was; you hadn’t locked it when you left earlier. But you couldn’t tell Haruta that.

You quickly popped into his room, scanning his desk to find the papers he had held hostage last night. They were there, and you scooped them up and left the room. You were about to leave the commander's chamber as well, when you realized something.

“Hey Haruta, can you help me with something?” You already knew what his answer would be.

“Whatever you need!”

You grinned and sat down next to him on the couch. “I don’t know some of these names or their fighting abilities. Can you help me assess them?”

“Sure!” He was practically bouncing from excitement. “I used to be a strategist too, so I know all the info you need.”

“It’s more just a capability ranking, if you don’t mind. I’m trying to keep an open mind,” you explained.

You all went through the two pages of names you were unfamiliar with. You had to admit, Haruta was very helpful in his assessment. It was concise, but included all of the information you needed to know. By the end of your time with him, you knew everyone’s time on the ship, fighting experience, and what devil fruit ability they had. It was extremely helpful.

When you finished the last name, you found yourself sitting and talking with him for a little while. It was refreshing to talk to a familiar face who wasn’t teasing or scolding you. Haruta had been on the ship for a long time. Not as long as you, obviously, but he had joined the Whitebeards when he was a kid. It was the only family he had, just like how you had been.

You both talked about what you learned and how you grew in your two years. Haruta had become a commander right before you left, and it was clear now that your father knew what he was doing when he appointed him. He really seemed to grow into a great person and commander. His appointment had sparked your journey to Wano, though you didn’t tell him that.

“There she is!” Marco’s voice boomed at the entry to the common room.

Both you and Haruta turned to look at him and the others coming into the room.

“There’s a strategy meeting tomorrow morning! I’ve been looking all over the ship trying to find you.”

“That’s my cue,” you mumbled, gathering up your stuff.

“You don't have to go!” Haruta pleaded. A part of you didn’t want to go either, but you had work to do and distractions to avoid.

“Ace will be here in a second,” Marco said. “Pops asked the three mission commanders to hang back.”

You ignored Marco, choosing to address Haruta before you left. “It was lovely catching up with you. Let’s do it again soon?”

You hadn’t meant to say it loud enough for all the other commanders to hear, but you could see them all exchanging glances in your peripheral vision. You chose not to comment on it, and instead walked out of the room, heading for the library.

You stopped at your bunkhouse to change into a fresh pair of clothes and freshened up before you went to work for the day. As Haruta had explained each person’s abilities, you made plenty of notes about where they should be positioned, now all you had to do was write it up into a formal report.

By the end of the day, your strategy report was 4 pages long. You had the fourth division flanking the left side with an additional twelve members from the second division, and the eleventh division flanking the right with fourteen members from the second division. The rest of the second division would hang back and assist as needed, with communication being made through transponder snails.

It would work. You were certain. It was the safest maneuver for everyone involved, and it allowed extra security if there were any surprises or change in plans. It gave flexibility and a solid offense. Satisfied with your work, you took your papers back to your bunkhouse and placed them in your bedside drawer.

You had managed to successfully keep Portgas D. Ace off of your mind for the entire day. Until you walked into the dining hall. Your eyes managed to instantly find him, and he smiled at you, giving you a little wave to come join him in the dinner line.

You quickly averted your eyes, pretending you didn’t see him. Trying your best to ignore the heat rising to your face, you looked for Whitey, and found her further back in the secondary line. You walked over to join her and Epoida, laughing and chatting with other crew members.

“Mind if I join you?” you asked, stepping in line with them.

The two individuals you didn’t know stared at you, but Whitey and Epoida smiled at your arrival.

“Still mad about this morning?” Epoida asked cautiously. Her eyes flitted over behind you to where Ace was standing, and she smirked.

“This morning?” you asked, trying to remember. You were certain she didn’t know about your night with Ace, so she must’ve been talking about breakfast.

They had made you angry in the moment, but you had time to cool off. Reflecting now, they were only trying to warn you about the kind of person Ace was. You were grateful for that.

Epoida leaned in close to you to whisper in your ear. “He’s watching, you know.”

“You think he likes the show?” you sarcastically responded, trying to show it didn’t phase you.

The act would’ve worked, but your devil fruit ability betrayed you. You could feel the tips of your ears burning, and your hair around them started to singe. Epoida bursted into a cackle at your embarrassment, and you shoved her away from you. You had to resist the urge to glance over at Ace, knowing that’s exactly what Epoida wanted you to do.

Your back was to the room, so you didn’t see him approaching. But you did see everyone else’s eyes getting big, and then you heard Ace’s cool voice from directly behind you.

“Hey ladies,” he said, his hand resting on your shoulder. You flinched at the closeness of his voice, and ignited your skin where he touched you, causing him to pull back in pain.

“Sorry. Forgot,” he mumbled, rubbing his hand. “Do you mind if I steal this lovely lady away from you all for a moment? Got commander stuff to talk about.”

“Commander stuff,” Whitey mocked. “Right.”

Ace gave Whitey a nervous glance and flashed her a smile, but it wasn’t as confident as usual.

“You can talk to me here,” you stated. “We’re amongst allies.”

“Right..” Ace said, looking around the circle.

It appeared that even though you were among allies, Ace was not. All of the others in the circle were glaring at him as if he had kicked a puppy on his way over here.

“So what’s up?” you asked, trying to ignore your friend’s gaze.”

“Oh, right.” Ace turned his attention to you, and you struggled not to get lost in his spotted freckles or his dark eyes. “There’s a strategy meeting tomorrow. Figured we could go through the names of the divisions and I could help you write up a report for it.”

“Already done,” you said coolly. “Haruta helped me out this morning and I got the report written.”

“Oh,” Ace said. He was staring at you with a confused look on his face, as if he were waiting for something more. You could hear the girls next to you stifling their laughs.

“You can look at it if you want,” you offered, unsure of what else he needed.

“No.” Ace blinked, as if he were trying to comprehend what to do next. “No, I trust you.”

“Cool.” You turned your attention away from him. “So anyway Epoida, this morning I was just in a bad mood. Better now, thanks for checking.”

You could still feel him behind you, just out of your view. Everyone else in the group kept glancing at him.

“Ace?” you asked, turning back around to face him.

“Yeah?”

“Did you need something else?”

“No,” Ace said, looking at the rest of the group. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess.”

“Sounds good. Bye.”

You waited for him to walk away before you turned to face your friends again.

“Dude,” Epoida said. “He’s trying to get with you so hard.”

“He is not.” You rolled your eyes.

“He definitely is,” one of the girls said. “When he puts his hands on people’s shoulders like that…”

“The Mark of Portgas D. Ace!” the other girl said, giggling. “You have to sleep with him now. It’s only a matter of time.”

“And then he’ll leave you,” Whitey said bitterly. “Onto the next shiny thing.”

“You guys are being dramatic,” you said, but you felt a knot of jealousy forming in your stomach.

“Happened to me,” one of the girls said. “And Whitey.”

“It did not!” Whitey said. “We did not-”

“Oh right,” the girl waved Whitey off. “You never made it home with him.”

“Shut up!” Whitey hissed, her face flooding with pink. “That was a few months ago! It doesn’t even matter!”

“Doesn’t it?” the girl taunted. You got a feeling that their argument was deeper and more malicious than either girl was letting onto.

“Can we stop talking about him?” you let out an exasperated sigh. “I feel like he’s all I ever hear about.”

“That’s because it’s begun.” Epoida wiggled her fingers at you like she was putting you under a spell. “He’s all you’ll ever hear about from now on.”

“He’s always been the talk of the ship,” one of the girls said. “Something you’ll just have to live with.”

The girls started talking amongst themselves again, about other crewmates and possibilities of an island soon, but Whitey was unnaturally quiet.

“Whitey,” you mumbled to her. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Her eyes were glassy when she looked at you. “He’s no good, Y/N. No good.”

She ran off, leaving you alone with the three chatty girls. You didn’t care for their conversation much, but Whitey’s reaction bothered you. Not many people could make her emotional, especially over something that happened in the past.

Portgas D. Ace made your heart flutter. But apparently he did that to a lot of people, and he had hurt one of your best friends in the process. You wouldn’t let yourself fall into the same fate. You refused to do so. Not just for your own preservation, but for Whitey too.

You grabbed your dinner to go and headed for the library for a quiet space. You needed to go over your plans one more time to check for any bias or oversights. You sat silently, reading over your proposal as you shoveled food into your mouth. The strategy appeared to be airtight with the information you had been given, but you were afraid of missing something obvious.

“Thought you said you were done with that,” a voice teased, and you cursed Ace for finding you so quickly.

“Just going over it one last time,” you replied simply, not looking up from your papers

“Nervous for tomorrow?” he asked, sitting down in the seat next to you.

“No,” you lied, which prompted a chuckle from Ace. You were normally a good liar, but Ace seemed to always be able to know whether you were being truthful or not.

He grabbed the papers from you and glanced over them. It wasn’t nearly long enough for him to read even a paragraph before he nodded and put the papers down. “Looks good.”

You scowled at him, reminded of Whitey and tears she had. “This may be a joke to you, but people’s lives are on the line.”

“It’s not a joke to me,” he said, looking at you with a confused gaze. “I just trust your ability to plan.”

“You don’t know me well enough to trust me,” you shot back. “Read it and give feedback.”

Ace looked at you for a moment, and you held his gaze with an intense stare. He resigned with a sigh and began reading your work.

You were surprised that he did so without little argument, and your heart skipped a little at his willingness to help you. But Whitey quickly came back to your mind, and you steeled your emotions. Portgas D. Ace may be a good commander, but he wasn’t a good person.

He quietly read for a few minutes while you doodled in the margins of some old notes, trying to distract yourself from him.

“I only have one suggestion,” Ace said as he finished up the report.

“Which is?”

“You need to give the fourth division two more members. Or take away two members from the eleventh division.”

You scowled. “But the eleventh division is less skilled. Which is why I gave them more resources.”

“I know that, but it will still offend Kingdew and his subordinates. You give them the same number of people at first to prove they’re equals. Then we’ll deploy more people at the start of the battle when they ask for assistance.”

“But the goal is to make them as even as possible from the start.”

“But we need them to be cooperative. Giving one person less people will cause hostility on each side for different reasons,” Ace explained. “Put Clavis and Mateo under Kingdew, move Iliana to Thatch. Take Philric, Ulster, and Maxie off the initial assault. It’ll even out their abilities and firepower of each side without being too obvious that Kingdew has stronger assistance on his team.”

You hummed, thinking about his suggestion. “I really wanted Clavis to be available for the first rescue team.”

“It’ll be fine,” Ace reassured. “It will spare Kingdew and Thatch any problems with superiority. One man won’t make that much of a difference.”

“You would.” It slipped out before you had a chance to think.

“Well, yeah,” he agreed. He looked up at you, flashing his signature smile. “I am the ace, after all.”

You couldn’t help it. Your heart fluttered. You could feel yourself falling for this stupid boy, and you hated yourself for it. You had to stop this before it got too out of hand.

“Clavis and Mateo to Kingdew, Iliana to Thatch, Philric, Ulster, and Maxie to the first rescue team. I’ll make the adjustments.”

You reached for the papers, but he held them away from you.

“Can we talk about last night?” His voice was low when he spoke so nobody would hear him. Even though there was nobody in the library, you glanced around nervously.

“I know what I need to know about you, Ace. There’s nothing more to talk about.”

He looked hurt by the harshness of your words, and you did your best to act like you didn’t care.

He sighed, holding the papers out. “I just wanted to make sure you knew-”

“Nothing happened,” you finished, snatching the papers back. “I know. Thanks.”

You gathered your stuff quickly and got up to leave.

“And nothing will be happening,” you clarified. You looked down at him, still in his seat. “I’m sorry if I gave you mixed signals, so let me be clear now. I may be your strategist, but that’s all I am.”

God, he looked so sad. It almost made you want to take it all back; to kiss his lips right then and there in that dark and dusty little library. But you couldn’t. You wouldn’t. You refused to be used by your commander, even if you broke your own heart in the process.

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #one piece x you #portgas ace x you #portgas ace x reader #ace x reader #ace x y/n #portgas d ace #portgas d. ace #cozage #the daughters return #✧˚ace✧˚

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epicbuddieficrecs · 1 month

Text

Weekly Recap | March 11th-17th 2024

That premiere guys!!!!! Was so good!!!!! I'm so excited to be FINALLY be a part of the fandom while the show is actually airing! 😃 Can't wait to read all the amazing fics that are gonna be spawned from season 7!

Speaking of that, I would like to encourage everyone to use the relevant Ao3 tags when writing fics based on S7 content! Not everyone can watch the episodes as they air, so tags are really essential for people who don't want to get spoiled! (I could even make a separate post about it? a sort-of "how to tag" post?). In case you want to block some tumblr tags, my main tags for S7 are #911 season 7, #911 on abc, or #911 spoilers.

(Posting this one day early cause I don't feel like waiting until tomorrow! Enjoy! 😆)

Complete

i find peace in your smile by goforeddie/@iltrpls (A/B/O AU | 1K | General): They’ve been courting for a few months now. It’s agonizingly slow, but it’s still the best time they’ve ever had. You might think that after six years of walking on eggshells around each other, half a decade of “will-they-won’t-they” they wouldn’t be taking such a slow time with courting, but it's precisely everything that they’ve been through that makes them appreciate things a little better.

Birthday Flowers by Tizniz/ @tizniz (Pre-Buddie | 2K | General): OR: Buck gets Eddie flowers for his birthday.

🔥 if i need to rearrange my particles — i will for you. by dylaesthetics (Post-S6, Identity Porn | 45K | Teen): OR Buck joins a support app for first responders and matches with a firefighter who has PTSD and a kid who likes giraffes, apparently.

Lime Jell-O by rainbow_nerds/ @rainbow-nerdss (S7E01: Abandon 'Ships | 3K | Teen): Eddie Diaz didn't panic. Or, well... Maybe he did. Sometimes. But he was working on it.

take the bed warmed by the body by lecornergirl/ @clusterbuck (Getting Together | 2K | Teen): It’s three parts bravado and one part reminder. He thinks about it, sometimes, his first shift at the 118—he doesn’t think either of them quite knew how much they’d meant it when they’d promised to have each other’s backs. He definitely hadn’t known, then, that he’d wake up one day and wonder why Buck isn’t in his bed. Because that’s what’s missing. He has a vague memory of falling asleep with his head resting against Buck’s shoulder, their legs tangled together.

Taken Space by Wildgirl93/ @wildlife4life (S7E01 Coda | 1K | General): Eddie and Marisol talk about the space that has already been taken.

Feel Like I Landed On The Moon by Tizniz/ @tizniz (Canon Divergent | 1K | General): OR: Eddie is pining for Buck while in Texas.

Fractals from the Lightning Bolt by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (One Shots Collection | 98K | Not Rated): A collection of oneshots, some originally posted on tumblr. Each chapter is individually rated.

53. A Dream You've Had Before (Explicit) 54. We're Definitely All Sluts Here (Explicit)

if you love someone by chronicallystendan (Pre-Buddie | 1K | General): Buck and Eddie both internally panic when a song comes on the radio that seems to be talking directly to them.

adventures of firehose and eightpack by brewrosemilk/ @gayhoediaz (Social Media fic | 1,5K | Mature): Or: Eddie stumbles upon Buck's old twitter account.

Two, Three Times in a Row by Leslie_Knope (PWP | 6K | Explicit): “We could’ve gone again.” Eddie snorts. “I’m old. You expect me to get it up twice?” “Yes,” Buck says, like it’s a given, like duh. “I could get you to do it right now.” The entire world pauses, and Eddie actually feels it, the bolt of arousal slinking down his spine all the way to his toes. He wets his lips. “Right now?”

WIP

🔥 miracles under your sighs and moans by napricot (Sex Pollen, PWP | 1/2 | 13K | Explicit): When Eddie gets exposed to an experimental aphrodisiac on a call, he realizes there’s only one person he trusts to help him get through it: Buck.

🔥 because we'll all arrive in heaven alive by callmenewbie/ @puppyboybuckley (Post-S6, Disaster Fic | 9/10 | 63K | Explicit): During a search and rescue, Eddie disappears without a trace, leaving Buck to grapple with the sudden possibility of a life without him.

if you know anyone that is not tagged, please tag them in the comments!

#buddie #buddie fic rec #buddie fanfiction #buddie fanfic #buddie fic #epic buddie fic rec

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underdark-dreams · 4 months

Text

[ch1] - [ch2]

A Strand to Climb - Ch.3

Rainstorms, hard conversations, and long-awaited kisses.

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Pining | Word Count: 4,189 [Read on AO3]

In a lucky turn of events, Lorroakan was called away from the Tower earlier than usual. Perhaps more Nightsong business connected with Tav’s visit today.

More likely a soiree in the Upper City with the newly ordained Archduke Gortash and the city’s elite, Rolan thought to himself. Those were the parts of archwizardry that seemed to agree with his master the best.

Whatever the reason, his evening’s lessons were abruptly canceled—as Lorroakan’s projection materialized for a few seconds to unceremoniously inform him. Rolan felt his aching head throb with relief. He’d just been given a night of escape.

When the closing hour’s bells rang out from Stormshore Tabernacle, Rolan fastened up the shop in record speed.

Rather than head to his siblings’ rented flat, Rolan carved a path toward the Elfsong. It was still early yet—Cal and Lia wouldn't expect him for hours, if they expected him at all tonight.

A bit early to be visiting the tavern, as well. But watching the gray and downcast weather through the doors of Sorcerous Sundries all day had left him thirsty. Rolan breathed in the cloud-thick and misty air as he walked.

Even for the early hour, the main taproom of the Elfsong was almost completely empty. All the better; fewer chances at unwelcome stares and comments.

Despite having his pick of the entire floor, he slumped into a small table in the farthest corner possible and spilled a few coppers on its surface in preparation. He’d been ready to drink this day away for hours.

"Chancing murder this fine afternoon?"

As if summoned, a cup of Arabellan Dry appeared in front of him. Lakrissa plucked his coin from the table in the same motion.

Rolan’s work had left him little time to follow the city’s goings on. But he did recall something the Gazette's paper boys had been shouting in the courtyard this morning—the most recent in a string of grisly murders, apparently occurring just above his head.

No wonder the place was deserted.

"Can hardly be worse than what's behind us," Rolan said glumly, raising the cup to his lips without missing a beat.

Lakrissa plopped herself down at his table uninvited. "I expected to see your lover with you tonight."

"My—" It was different hearing someone else say it aloud; he coughed slightly into his wine.

“Cal told me she made it to the city,” Lakrissa explained.

Apparently Cal had taken the liberty of telling her everything else while he was at it.

"Of course he did." Rolan huffed a sigh. He supposed it was good that his siblings kept in contact with old friends from the road…but could they find nothing more interesting to talk about than his personal life?

"She's pretty," Lakrissa said, as if the compliment was somehow directed at him. "Brave, good fighter…good heart. How exactly you pull that off?"

Her candor would've insulted him, had he not asked himself the same question many times today alone. "No idea," Rolan said, unshouldering the heavy weight of his ego for just a moment.

"Hm. But you're hiding alone in a tavern, instead of off with her."

"I am not hiding," Rolan glowered at her, though he really was—and for the second time today no less. "I just needed to think, that's all."

"Ah…I get it." Lakrissa swung her bar towel over one shoulder. "She’s seen you."

For all of the times Rolan had visited the Elfsong Tavern while Lakrissa was waiting tables, she'd never commented on the ever-shifting landscape of wounds on his face. She was the type to keep her nose out of other peoples’ business, whether from discretion or from genuine disinterest.

Either way, Rolan appreciated it about her. He got enough prying and questions from his siblings anytime he went home; the last thing he needed was to be interrogated while he was trying to drown his sorrows.

Perhaps that was why Rolan felt he could ask her the next question. If nothing else, Lakrissa was a realist.

“Be honest. If you were her, seeing me like this—" he gestured a hand stiffly in the direction of his aching face. "What would you think?”

Lakrissa propped elbows on the wood table to support her chin, regarding him in her casually thoughtful way. "I'd think that your apprenticeship with that wizard isn't going too well. But that you must have a good reason for staying."

That seemed more optimistic than he could hope for. Would Tav respect his reasons the same way? Surely she must know by now that he'd take much worse for the opportunity he'd been handed, if that's what it took. He didn't put Cal and Lia through everything he had on the journey here just to give up now.

But for a moment, Rolan pictured what it might be like in reverse. Watching a mad narcissist like Lorroakan lay hands on her; watching her willingly return for more. His knuckles gripped pale around his cup.

Rolan surfaced quickly from that disturbing image. "Sure she wouldn't see a pompous idiot who’d bragged to anyone who would listen?"

Lakrissa tipped her head in a way that suggested she saw his point. "You've never struck me as an idiot, though. How about this, then—I’d see the man who stepped up to get his people through a nightmare and safely to Baldur’s Gate.”

Rolan swirled the wine in his cup, watching the waves gloomily. “She’s the one who made the way safe for us. You know that.”

“You’re so—” Lakrissa leaned back from the table with a laugh. “Gods. For a smart bloke, Rolan, you can be so stupid. I respected Zevlor,” she told him with sudden emphasis, as though Rolan might think she didn't. “All of us did. He’s the one who got us out of Elturel when half of them wanted to chuck us right back into Avernus. And I’ve no idea why he left us, or whether he’s even alive—” A rare wrinkle of emotion appeared between her brows. “But I do know that you were there. Alfie told me all about how you protected the kids and got everyone to Last Light after…everything.”

"Alfira's a bard," Rolan told her, as if she of all people needed reminding. Foolish dreamer was the actual term that came to mind, but he suspected Lakrissa was the type who would smack people for rudeness. "I've no doubt she exaggerated."

"Oh no, she said you were a complete ass about it," Lakrissa replied matter-of-fact. "And that you spent most of your time drinking the Harpers dry before Tav showed up."

Rolan's pride stung at the comment, but he couldn't exactly deny it. Lakrissa went on. "That doesn't change the fact that you kept them safe. You saved people’s lives, Rolan."

He let out a bitter laugh. "It was only me because all the good ones were already dead."

They stared at each other in silence for a beat.

"That's a pretty shit thing to say,” Lakrissa said quietly. “About them, and about yourself."

Rolan looked down at the dark liquid in his cup, but he couldn't think of anything nicer to say on the subject. He was finding it hard to be nice about anything these days.

"You're a hero, Rolan," Lakrissa told him simply. "And so is she. I reckon the two of you can figure it out…you deserve to give her a chance, at least."

Rolan only let her advice wash over him in silence. When Lakrissa shifted, he saw her grimacing over his shoulder.

“Damn. Alan’s giving me the eye—ugh, like there's anyone else to serve anyway—”

But she rose, and Rolan was ready to return to his glass until he felt a hand rustle between his horns—the way he'd often seen Tiefling parents do to their children back home.

“When you do see her, send her by?” Lakrissa asked. “I still owe her a drink.”

—

Rolan left the Elfsong a few minutes later. He found the wine had done little to quiet his troubled head, and something in Lakrissa’s pointed speech had made him feel too guilty to stay any longer.

As he stepped out through the tavern’s wide oak doors, a chill rustled through his robes. The storm was rolling angrily up from the port now.

Rolan kept his head down against the breeze that pushed much sharper and colder through the streets than before, sweeping river mist off the roiling Chionthar and plastering it against his face and hands. He thought wistfully of his good cloak—currently sitting useless in his room at the Tower.

Even after weeks in Baldur's Gate, Rolan was still learning to anticipate the rapid changes in weather that could descend on them from proximity to the coastline. Elturel was set deeper inland; they never got sudden squalls like this.

The few others he encountered in the streets were also rushing to their destinations with bowed heads, or else frantically boarding up their stalls against the oncoming storm. As he glanced up at the clouds again, a large, foreboding drop landed on his brow.

Rolan ducked down an alleyway south past the print shop. Not normally a shortcut he'd take at twilight, especially through Heapside. But any cutpurse stupid enough to be out in this weather would be easy to dispatch.

Within its walls, the narrow space muffled the sounds of the city. Rolan could practically smell the electricity crackling through the stormclouds above as he walked. All of a sudden there was a blinding flash, a clear peal of thunder, and rain erupted on top of him.

Sheets of it swept down like curtains with breathtaking ferocity, drumming loud against roofs and cobblestones and smothering the warm light from any street lamps he hurried past. His robes were soaked through almost instantly. Rolan swore and raised an arm to shield his vision against the rivulets already running from his hair.

Despite the shortcut, the path to Cal and Lia’s took longer than usual. Small rivers were forming through the streets from the rapid downpour, and the cobbles grew slick under his boots. Rolan had to catch his balance against stone walls and fences a few times. The clatter of rain and thunder was so deafening he could almost feel his brain rattling around inside his skull.

When Rolan stepped under the footbridge around the corner from home, the muffled reprieve made him let out a breath of relief. He paused for a moment to wipe the rain from his forehead and eyes, even wrung out the ends of his hair.

With his head tilted so, he caught sight of a cloaked figure standing on the doorstep to his siblings’ front door.

Where he stood was cast in shadow—combined with the thick curtains of rain falling between them, Tav hadn't noticed him yet, though they were standing just a few meters apart. She was squinting up at the number above the doorpost. One hand reached from under her cloak to knock, but she paused halfway through the motion as if second-guessing herself.

Was she just looking for Cal and Lia? Or had she somehow known Rolan would be here? But that didn’t make sense—even he hadn’t expected to spend a night with his family until a few hours ago.

Rolan stared at Tav’s upturned face, watching her lashes flutter as she blinked away a few droplets of rain. His heart leapt against his ribs from a bewildering mixture of love and fear.

“Rolan?”

Despite the downpour around them, her voice reached Rolan’s ear with a clarity that made him start where he stood.

She was peering at his figure through the curtain of rain between them. Then she rushed forward without a word, and before Rolan could react, her body collided against his wet robes with a smack.

He found himself immediately enfolded in her familiar scent as her cheek pressed against his. Rolan's arms circled to hold her of their own volition, every other tumultuous thought conveniently swept from his head.

Then she drew back, and she leaned up to kiss him.

Her lips were warm and welcoming as hearthfire. Rolan shivered slightly as he realized just how much the wind and rain had chilled him. When her mouth grazed a spot of broken skin, he flinched back at the sting.

"Oh." She stepped away as though he’d burned her. "I—sorry."

"It's not that," he told her. Unbidden, his hand reached toward the edge of her cloak to find one of hers.

Their fingers hooked together finally, and she inhaled in surprise. "Rolan, you're freezing! How long were you out in this?"

Without waiting for his answer, she tugged him forward to the door on the corner. She neglected to knock and simply reached for the latch, and the two of them spilled across the threshold in tandem with another peal of thunder.

Lia leapt up from the table, her shortsword at the ready and polishing rag in hand. Cal’s face appeared in the kitchen doorway, looking equally alarmed. The four of them stared at each other as rain poured into the doorway.

“For hell’s sake—”

Lia darted forward, and for a wild moment Rolan half-expected to be caught up in a hug. But she only pushed past him and wrenched the door shut against a fresh gust of rain, drawing the bolt across.

Muffled silence blanketed the room around them. After being out in the storm, it made Rolan’s ears ring. Beside him, Tav pushed her cloak’s hood back to her shoulders.

“Sorry about that,” she told his siblings with a breathless smile.

It triggered a flurry of activity. Lia was drawing her into the room, whisking her cloak off to hang it near the hearth to dry. Cal plunked a large cast iron pot of something steaming onto the central table—a good bit of it spilled over the side—and began poking around in cabinets to find another bowl. They were both talking over each other to Tav the entire time.

Rolan found himself rather left out of it all, and a bit indignant at the fact.

He spread his palms wide to either side, dripping a path across the floor in the process. “Hello?”

“Oh—” Cal blinked over at him as though just noticing he was there. “Hi, Rolan.”

Lia made no response, suddenly busying herself with putting away her whetstone and sheathing her sword. The cool reception wasn’t lost on him.

“Nice place,” Tav remarked, stretching her hands appreciatively toward the fireplace.

“It’s really not,” Cal said cheerfully. “But it’s better than we hoped, really. All paid for by that bast—”

“Hungry?” Lia interrupted, looking pointedly at Tav and not her older brother. Tav exchanged an uncertain glance with him.

“Not for me,” she answered. “But thanks, and thanks for the invitation. It’s good to see you both well.”

Rolan caught her eye. “Lia and I caught up the other day,” she explained.

“About what?” Rolan asked, unable to stop himself.

Finally, Lia leveled a stare at him. “Take a guess.”

She and Rolan looked at each other in silence for a tense moment. Internally, he was fitting together the pieces of Tav’s visit to the Sundries.

“Anyway,” Tav interrupted slowly, “Rolan and I were actually just hoping for a place to talk.”

“Ah—right. Should we step out?”

Cal’s voice sounded a bit strained; maybe he assumed that ‘talking’ was some kind of euphemism. The thought made Rolan’s ears grow warm under his hair, but Tav responded before he could open his mouth.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you two can’t go out in all this.” Her face turned toward Rolan, questioning. “Do you have a room we could go to?”

He nodded wordlessly and started down the hall. The fact that Lia and Cal both refrained from comment was a surprise—one that he felt grateful for. Perhaps they’d finally picked up on the tension between the two of them.

Rolan held the door to his bedroom open for her and followed her inside. He felt around for the candle sconce near the doorway and lit it with a word.

The space was small and plain, but quite clean; his duties didn’t allow him to spend many nights here. Even the narrow bed along the wall was still neatly made from last week.

As she reached to lock the door behind them, she turned to Rolan. “Do you keep clothes here?”

“What are you talking about?” He cringed at how bluntly his own words came out.

Without explaining, she slipped the small pack from her shoulders and tossed it to the floor. Then she swept past him toward the wardrobe and began rifling through its contents.

“Here—” She tossed a set of clean clothes onto the bed. “Change into these. Towel?” Not pausing for an answer, she dug for one at the back of the shelf and added it to the pile.

Rolan frowned at her back defensively. “I can take care of my—”

“Rolan, please just shut up,” she interrupted. She was still turned away, but there was a slight tremor in her voice. “We have a lot we need to talk about. And I can't concentrate with you looking like a wet cat.”

Rolan glanced down at his robes; droplets from the hem were steadily forming a small puddle between his boots. His combined appearance must be pitiful indeed at the moment. Too embarrassed to protest further, Rolan began working at the fastenings of his garments.

Though she'd seen him entirely naked before, something about this moment felt even more intimate somehow. He undressed silently as the muffled rainstorm continued against the shuttered window of his room.

As he removed each soaked layer, she kept her gaze averted to respect his privacy. Rolan did catch her glancing at him a few times when she thought he wouldn't notice, but there was more concern than desire in it. As if she was checking him over.

It did feel much more comfortable to slip a dry tunic and trousers over his chilled skin. Before he set his wet robes aside, Rolan turned away as if folding them in order to retrieve her handwritten note from the pocket. Rain had smudged the ink a bit, but the three most important words were still legible. He exchanged it for the dry pocket at his hip.

The leather tie from his hair—the same one she'd used that very first night—was slipped off and into his pocket as well.

Then he moved to sit on the edge of the bed and began roughly scrubbing at his wet hair with the towel, as if the force might inject some courage into his skull. His mind was currently swirling with uncertainty of what she would say next.

Rolan caught her eye from behind his loose strands of hair. To his very great relief, her expression softened.

“Let me—”

In a flash, she had curled up cross-legged behind him on the bed and was taking the cloth from his hand. She smoothed his hair back and squeezed rainwater from the ends.

Her touch was much gentler than his own—the gentlest thing he’d felt in weeks. Rolan closed his eyes at the feeling of her fingers combing against his scalp. He found himself very grateful she couldn't see his face. If this was the most she ever wanted to touch him again, he thought he could almost be satisfied.

“I spoke with Lorroakan today.”

Rolan sat quiet for a moment. “I know.”

“You’ve got more magic in one hand than that charlatan has in his whole fucking body.”

Her bluntness caused his lips to twitch with an unwilling smile. “I know,” Rolan repeated, more confident this time.

The fingers in his hair paused; he could practically feel her eyes boring into the back of his head. “Rolan, is that why he's doing this to you? Hurting you?

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Rolan told her. Making sense of Lorroakan was futile. He had stopped trying long ago, to save his own sanity. Even now, her questions stirred up an anxious frustration in his chest. “Does it matter?”

There was a soft rustle as she scooted sideways into his sight line—Rolan glanced over to see her brow wrinkled in a sad expression.

“How can you say that?” She replied. “Of course it matters what happens to you, Rolan.”

There was not a trace of insincerity in her face. Rolan found he badly wanted to kiss her again. Instead, he bowed his head toward the floor.

“This is just how it is,” he told the floorboards. “It won't be forever. I'm strong enough to bear much worse than this, you know.”

“I know you are—” Her fingers resumed their work in his hair, gently tugging and working at a small knot. “The point is you shouldn't have to.”

She was right, of course. He had no logical defense against her words. The room lapsed into silence instead. Beyond the walls, blustering sheets of rain continued to buffet against the roof tiles and window panes.

Tav spoke up behind him again. “Some of those bruises are old. You aren't healing yourself at least?”

She gave his skill more credit than he deserved. “I’m still learning how,” Rolan admitted glumly, glad again to be facing away from her.

In truth, healing scrolls were what he'd been searching for that night Lorroakan had accused him. If only he could see the techniques for himself—he was certain he could master them. The archmage had conspicuously neglected to allow any lessons on abjuration magic thus far.

The mattress behind him shifted as Tav rose. Rolan watched her move to snatch up her pack from the corner, then barely managed to catch it as the object sailed toward his lap.

“Take those,” she said as she clambered back up behind him to continue gently toweling his hair. “Keep them here, study from them whenever you want. They're yours.”

Rolan felt a thrill of pure excitement as he peered down into the leather bag—and found it filled with a score of tightly bound spell scrolls. This small cache was worth more gold than he’d ever seen together in one place.

He pulled one out to examine its formidable wax seal. “Where did you get all of these?”

“Um…don't worry about it.”

“Stolen,” he finished dryly.

Her tone grew playfully defensive behind him. “From a very bad man who is now dead. There, does that satisfy you?”

Rolan had turned to kiss her before the last word left her lips. The pack slipped to the floor between his feet as his hands notched behind Tav’s jaw to pull her forward. He felt a damp weight land in his lap as her now-empty fingers slid around his torso.

Rolan broke away just enough to speak. “Stay here tonight,” he told her. It wasn't a question.

Tav nodded, leaning back in for his mouth.

Her fingers splayed in the dip between his jaw and his ear, tilting his face into hers. He kept his palm firmly pressed on the curve of her waist. Each time her lips slid softly over his, Rolan found his heart filled with another shimmering pearl of hope. They stayed there connected in a kiss until his back began to ache from the contorted position.

To his immense disappointment, Tav pulled away first. But she only made a hesitant request to borrow some clothes for herself. Rolan finally realized with a jolt of guilt that her own were wet down the front, no doubt from that moment she'd held him outside in the rain.

Rolan trained his eyes away to give her the same privacy. But though Tav didn't meet his eye, she made no attempt to hide her body—in fact seemed to move with deliberate slowness as she stripped down and pulled the threadbare tunic over her head. It barely skimmed the tops of her thighs.

Then she moved to the candle near the door and extinguished it with a puff.

Through the near-darkness, Rolan worked the bedcovers down to slip beneath them. As his damp hair landed on the pillow, he felt the mattress dip beside him as Tav promptly curled herself in along his front under the blankets. Underneath, his tail moved with a mind of its own to wind around one of her legs. She let out a small, happy sigh that tickled across his chin.

Rolan briefly wondered if they were intentionally trying to distract each other. Tav had clearly come here to find him and talk, after all. And there was much more to say—he could feel all the words unspoken hanging between them like a tangible thing. From the way Tav’s fingers worried the laces of his shirt, he wondered if she was thinking the same.

But neither of them spoke for the moment, just lying together as they listened to the storm continue outside on the streets of Baldur’s Gate.

Eventually, Rolan laid his arm still across her and closed his eyes. She was so warm, her quiet presence so comforting—and he found now that he was very, very tired.

Perhaps the rest of it could keep until the morning.

#rolan x tav #can you feel how close they are to [redacted]#the fluffiest angst #bg3 rolan #bg3 cal #bg3 lia #sage and soldier #rebgrrl writes #underdark-dreams #bg3 fanfiction #tav x rolan

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iamadequate1 · 4 months

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Izzy and Weaponized Therapy

I accidentally opened Twitter again, and at the top of the algorithm was a canyonite comment about how they were eagerly waiting for the OFMD cancellation announcement any day now. I instantly closed and decided to feed Tumblr's Izzy tag instead.

So....

While I'm waiting for the renewal announcement (that is 100% happening), the comments of this post triggered something in my brain with the points that it's very important that most of Izzy's abuse is done when he's alone with Ed. If Ed fights back (say, as in a pirate universe, by shooting his leg) where others can see it, it looks unprovoked and that Ed is being unreasonable.

One thing I don't think I've seen touched on much is this line:

Izzy: I'm worried about you. We all are. The atmosphere on this ship is completely poisoned, but if we could all just maybe talk it through. Ed: As a crew?

It's a comment that snowballs through the season and demonstrates why Izzy's S2 "redemption" arc really falls flat for me. It sounds reasonable on the surface, but look at the context by looking at the progression of solo Ed & Izzy scenes.

1x10: Ed is starting to come out of his breakup depression, but Izzy does the big threat where Ed's "Wonderful. You know we share our thoughts on this ship." is met with "I should've let the English kill you. This, whatever it is that you've become is a fate worse than death. (...) No, this, this is Blackbeard! Not some namby-pamby in a silk gown pining for his boyfriend. (...) There he is. Blackbeard is my captain. I serve Blackbeard, not Edward. Edward better watch his fuckin' step." Full thing written because some people keep forgetting it.

1x10: The Toe Scene. The violence is an act already established as acceptable in this pirate universe, and Ed is throwing his protective persona back on and asserting his dominance over Izzy.

2x1: Shortly after the raid montage, Ed hides the Not Stede cake topper as Izzy enters the room. They dance around the crew not being happy, and Ed calls Izzy a lightweight.

2x1: This "talk it through" scene that includes the strange "I have love for you" statement.

They stand next to each other in two or three scenes in there (like watching the new Blackbeard flag rise), but that is the progression of their interactions, and they are all away from an audience.

I may be repeating some things from my Media Literacy post, but here it goes anyway: Ed and Izzy aren't real people. The writers are telling a story, and what they choose to put onscreen and the progression of it is important. On Ed's response, you have to look at what information he is privy to: he did not hear the shaky "Blackbeard is himself again" when Stede's library was being destroyed, and he did not witness Fang hugging Izzy and Frenchie holding his hand. This is it, and we don't get to invent extra scenes to make Izzy look better and make Ed unreasonable for not responding to "talk it through" with, yeah, man, let's sit down and have a chat.

In the interactions between Ed and Izzy, it's all about threats and self preservation. Izzy's threats to Ed mirrors Chauncey's threats to Stede: Ed and Stede had their worst fears about themselves thrown at them while under a death threat, and they both took dramatic (and ill advised) course corrections. In Ed's case, he came into the series with death ideation, and it flowed into his suicidal arc at the beginning of S2, an arc jump started by Izzy.

Ed has no reason to believe Izzy's "talk it through" is genuine. Izzy is the one to confirm that Ed is unlovable, that he has no purpose other than being Blackbeard, a ghost. They are approximately three months into this "poison," three months into a spiral that was triggered by Ed trying to "talk it through." "Talk it through" without any support of a previous good faith attempt at reversing this spiral in three months honestly comes off as mocking and genuinely as a weaponization of therapy speak (remember Jonah Hill?), using words that sound close to what someone who cares would say (say, someone like Stede) but are masking self serving reasons and a desire for control.

And Ed really had it confirmed that he was right to not trust Izzy there, didn't he? He moves the conversation to an audience, and Izzy shifts his argument from an attempt at a non-judgmental "We're worried about you" to a tone of "You're being completely unreasonable."

Izzy: The atmosphere on this ship is fucked. Everyone knows why. Ed: Well, I don't. Enlighten me. Izzy: Your feelings for Stede fuckin' Bonnet.

But in 1x10, we (and Izzy!) know that Ed had been moving on from his heartbreak from Stede and that Ed's issues now are stemming from how he felt before he met Stede.

Izzy retcons this event two episodes later, in 2x3:

Izzy: Alright, Bonnet, have it your way. He went mad. He tortured the crew. He took my fuckin' leg 'cause I dared to mention your fuckin' name. He was a wild dog, and we dealt with him like one. Stede: You sent him to doggie heaven. Izzy: No, I could never do that. We deserted him on a beach, left nature to do the rest. More than he would've done for us. You and me did this to him, and we cannot let this crew suffer any more for our mistakes.

(First, hearing "He went mad!" from a guy who called Ed "insane" all of S1 for just wanting to have a bit of amusement is rich...)

Again, the last part sounds like something a human who cares would say, but... as established, Ed's feelings for Stede weren't the main problem, and more importantly!: 1) Ed has free will and is not some passive damsel in an Izzy vs Stede war, 2) people are not responsible for an ex's bad reaction to a breakup, and 3) Izzy didn't know what had happened to Stede! Ed just knew that Stede didn't show up, so that's as much as Izzy knew. Izzy only knew that Stede had just reappeared on The Revenge at that moment with no explanation. Izzy had let the poison ferment for three months, and now that Stede is back, Izzy just eagerly foists half the blame on Stede. What? Why?

Now, the first part is why Izzy is firmly an Unreliable Narrator. We were shown explicitly why Ed shot Izzy, and it was not just for daring to say Stede's name. This is emphasized further when Izzy retcons the shooting again in 2x7 (and Stede just plays along?):

Izzy: Ya know what he did when I told him I loved him? Stede/Izzy: He shot you/me.

Izzy is a mess. I know that there are some posts floating around that criticize the poor writing of this, but I take it more as confirmation that Izzy is just letting reality be whatever he feels like at that moment.

This is why we, the audience, should not trust Izzy's dramatic "He tortured the crew!" to judge Ed, and we should not trust a statement that sounds like a clear headed, therapeutic response without first looking at the motivation and context around it. Izzy says things that sound nice, but that doesn't mean he means is being truthful.

#our flag means death #ofmd #izzy hands #izzy canon #i'm never leaving the izzy tag #ofmd meta

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serenefreakgeekao3 · 1 month

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Fear of Falling

CHAPTER THREE [Masterlist]

Pairing: Hiccup x ftm!reader

Summary: Hiccup recounts everything he's been thinking throughout his meeting with You, then is finally able to take you flying for the first (proper) time!

Tags: carpenter!reader, awkward!Hiccup, mutual pining, Hiccup's POV, first time flying, lunch date

Warnings: slightly obsessive behaviour(?), vague descriptions of dragons fighting

Author’s Note: Hey all! So sorry for my long break on writing this series, but I did recently complete one of the longest multi-chaptered fic I've ever written so I'm rather proud of myself. Anyway, here's the long-awaited Chapter Three! The beginning tends to rehash a little bit of what already happened, so I just hope everyone enjoys regardless!

Words: 5715

HICCUP’S POV

You were an enigma, that was for sure. A Viking with no feel for violence, with no dragon- even homeless until Hiccup finally met you. Really, wouldn't everyone take notice? Wouldn't everyone become borderline obsessed with you?

Hiccup thought he knew everyone his age in Berk. He thought they all flocked together naturally, that his choices of companionship were narrowed down to the few he grew up with. For some reason, the migrating Vikings taking refuge in Berk never seemed to spark the thought- maybe one of them would be his age. Whenever he thought of those incoming Vikings he pictured the big, the burly and old. He never pictured young, timid, and extremely fucking hot.

It was probably unfair of Hiccup to keep you hidden away. It was just that Hiccup needed to relax at some point, needed a place to get away so that everyone wouldn't find him, pester him and ask for more things that he couldn't quite deliver. Being Chief was a lot harder than his father made it out to be. Though, granted, his father had enough practice at it by the time Hiccup was born and was able to notice. He now just wished he'd spent more of his time and attention learning than admiring.

But that day- the first day he met you in that carpenter's shed- had been a complete accident. Hiccup couldn't help but take notice once his fear of Astrid discovering him slacking off died down. The way you held yourself, the mysterious aura surrounding you, the silence that portrayed real thought into the words you’d said; it all captured him. Enraptured him.

Suddenly Hiccup found himself a lot more willing to participate in the town’s rebuilding, if only he could have the chance to glance over and see you. He found himself almost unconsciously walking toward the shed constantly- sometimes entering to find it empty, other times turning himself around before he made it so he could just prove to himself that he had a modicum of self-control.

The day Astrid noticed you, Hiccup knew that his time was running short. He had wanted to keep things the way they were. A secret, someone to keep hidden away from the others so you wouldn’t realize just how awfully average Hiccup was compared to the rest of his friends. He didn't want to give up this newfound companionship, especially before it ever had a chance to grow into anything. So once Hiccup discovered your homelessness, suddenly he had a plan! If Hiccup helps you build a house, you'd have plenty of time together, and no one could argue that he was hiding away from his job!

The month it took to build your house was not only one of the most fun times he could remember for a long while, but it was also the longest stretch of time that he’d gone without riding Toothless. Hiccup could tell that Toothless was becoming antsy, and even Hiccup, himself, was itching for the freedom of flight. However, Hiccup didn’t want to lose any more time with you than he absolutely needed to, which was why he waited. Until he finally met your dragon- until he could oh-so-casually bring up flying and mention you both should ride together. Hiccup even had a few places he wanted to show off- beautiful locations that he thought you might admire.

Then, he proceeded to find out that you didn’t have a dragon, either! After this long living in Berk, who wouldn’t jump at the chance to have their own companion like that? But you didn’t want to, had some sort of notion that the right dragon would just ‘find you’ somehow. Even Hiccup, himself, had to shoot Toothless out of the sky for them to meet and grow any closer! It baffled him, but Hiccup didn’t really find himself minding all that much. If you didn’t have a dragon and ever needed to go anywhere, then he would jump at the chance to help you.

He didn’t really question his infatuation with you, at first. Being borderline obsessed with you, wanting to be near you all of the time, of course it wasn’t romantic. He’d felt romantic feelings before- with Astrid, even though it didn’t work out between the two of them- and this felt nowhere near the same. It took a couple- okay, maybe a few- people suggesting he did feel that way for him to sit down and think on it. That… Maybe his relationship with Astrid didn’t work out because he hadn’t actually liked her romantically, he’d just been envious of her skills and admired her absolute strength and resolve. That maybe his feelings for you might actually be more than just…

That was always where his brain stalled, halting his train of thought. He couldn’t put his finger quite on how he felt. There was so much going on inside his head when he’d thought of you. Protection, though you didn’t need any. Wanting to provide for you, anything you’d want or need, though you were perfectly capable of getting anything for yourself. He wanted to make you laugh, hear your thoughts, learn more about you. He wanted to learn so much about you, his curiosity was endless. The more he learned, the more he still yearned to know.

He ended up getting so distracted, though, that he was no longer just ‘taking breaks’ from being Chief to hang out with you. He finally had to admit he was completely neglecting his duties. He still did a few things here and there every day, but it was nowhere near the amount he was supposed to be doing. Astrid had finally cornered him in his house before he could sneak out, locking the door by knocking over a bookshelf in front of it. It was a hard wake-up call, but one he sorely needed. Berk was still being hunted, after all.

He’d wanted to say bye to you, but he couldn’t think of a way to do it without sounding too attached. Of course, he’d see you again, the scouting shouldn’t take too long. Or so he had thought. Once he was out flying again, everything else seemed to fade away. He scoured the entire area nearby- until he’d found what he was looking for, unfortunately. A raiding party sailing a tad too close to New Berk, and he knew he needed to throw them off their track. It’d taken a week, but he managed to plant enough false evidence that they’d switched their track and began sailing toward a separate island, far off.

He watched for another two days just to make sure- which was when he’d run into the man running the entire business. Grimmel the Grisly, the man who was responsible for wiping out the entirety of the Night Furies (or so he’d heard, during his stealthy informational gathering missions). He was a smart man, immediately clinging to the fact that they’d been led astray. Hiccup had to get creative if he wanted to lead them further away anymore, and it took a lot longer than he’d hoped.

All the while, every night that he’d finally camped out, curled against Toothless, he’d thought of you. Wondered what you were doing, if you’d been working that day or if you took the breaks that Hiccup had been trying to force you to take regularly. He wondered if you’d kept up your whittling, if you had made anything else since he’d last seen you. Of course, he’d intersperse those thoughts with wonderings of his friends, or the village. But your face was always the last thing in his mind’s eye before he fell asleep.

By the time he felt comfortable enough to come back home, he realized he’d been gone for nearly a month’s time. That’s what he’d figured, anyway, when he added all the tick marks he’d made every time he camped. As New Berk began to come into view, Hiccup leaned to the side, pushing Toothless to fly closer to the forest instead of the ocean. He’d just wanted to see your house, reassure himself that it hadn’t burnt down, and taken you with it, while he was gone. Of course, it was still standing. Toothless cried out as he flew above the house, and Hiccup laughed out loud, shaking his head.

“Can’t hide anything from you, bud, can I?”

Touching down in the town close to sunset, he was immediately swarmed. They’d decided on a feast in the Great Hall to celebrate their Chief’s return, so he was ushered inside with the crowd. He kept glancing over toward the footpath he knew led to your cabin, but it was dark and soon he was surrounded by the warmth and light of the Great Hall. He was pushed further to the back as more and more people entered the building, making way for everyone to feast. Drinks began to pour as meat was thrown onto the fire, and suddenly everything else fell away as Hiccup was ensconced in his typical home life. With how much everyone was celebrating his return, he began to wonder if he’d worried them all.

Meeting eyes with you across the Great Hall had nearly stopped his heart in his chest. You were here! After all the times he had offered and begged for you to come down here and eat with him- and his friends, of course- for you to just turn him down? Now you were here! Did you know he had returned? Had word gotten back to you so quickly? He stumbled as he rushed to stand, to at least try to meet you halfway, but he knocked his tankard over and he heard Astrid gasp in shock. He turned, cursing under his breath as he tried his best to clean up his spill and apologize to his friend. He knew his friends could see his awkward stumbling and rambling, something he thought he had grown out of already. He felt embarrassed, but he’d feel any sort of way if it meant you were there with him.

Dinner was distracting, but the thought of you walking home alone was even more so. As he’d stared into that darkness, down the forest path that led to your home, he knew he wouldn’t be able to get any sort of rest without knowing you were home safe. He said as much, looking deep into your eyes. He really missed your eyes- in fact he hadn’t realized the colour was quite that shade, like his mind had slowly began to forget about it in the time he’d been away. He didn’t quite know how he felt about that… (Bad. He felt very bad about that.)

After walking you home and having an intense discussion, he hadn’t quite wanted to leave. However, you had agreed to go flying the next day, finally! He couldn’t wait for tomorrow, so he was eager to sleep and pass the time. He hadn’t even bothered to walk home, jumping on the back of Toothless as soon as your door had closed behind him. He didn’t know you were watching him fly off from your window, but just the same, you didn’t know he was holding that little figurine of his father in his hands during the flight. It was amazingly crafted, so detailed and correct in its design. He was enamoured.

Sleep took him rather quickly once he’d settled down, having had a long day. As he woke, bright and early in the morning, Astrid was already trying to knock his door down with her pounding. He rushed over and opened the door before she genuinely knocked the door in, and he saw Toothless peaking at him over her shoulder. She informed him, correctly so, that he needed to give an update to her and the other riders. He agreed, making his way down toward town. The meeting was held toward the centre of town, closer to the cliffs than the Great Hall, and in the presence of their tight-knit group of dragon riders, along with their dragons.

Just as the meeting was ending, and Hiccup was petting Toothless as congratulations for not getting into any trouble while they were busy, he heard your voice. He turned quickly at the sound of his name, smiling brightly. You were dressed differently than normal- tighter clothes, with long sleeves to cover your arms, your tight pants tucked into your boots. You had gotten dressed for the occasion, and Hiccup was not complaining.

“You ready then?” He asked, unable to keep the excitement from his voice. The rest of the riders had been wandering away already, in groups or alone to their own destination, but Astrid stood nearby as she brushed Stormfly. He could tell she was eavesdropping, even if she did a good job of pretending she wasn’t. He could see the hesitancy in your eyes, dropping his hands from Toothless’ back and wandering closer to you.

“Uh,” You began, clearing your throat, “Yeah. Sure.”

“Hey,” Hiccup begins quietly, reaching forward to take your hand in his. “It’ll be okay, I promise. We’ll be there every step of the way.” You were staring deep into his eyes before suddenly bursting out laughing. Hiccup draws back slightly, confused.

“Yeah,” You raise a hand, wiping your face. “I sure hope you’ll both be there every step of the way. You’re sort of my ride.” Hiccup chuckles too, embarrassed, and pulls his hand away. Of course, he fails at comforting you, saying the wrong thing-

You reached quickly to take his hand once again, taking a small step forward into his personal space. He breathes in a quiet gasp at the proximity as you begin to whisper. “No, but, thank you Hiccup. Your confidence is reassuring.” As you step back bashfully, taking your hand back to rub the back of your head, Hiccup lets out his breath slowly. He can feel his cheeks are hot- was he really blushing?

“Y-Yeah,” Hiccup tries, stuttering slightly before clearing his throat. “Of course.” He turns to look around awkwardly, unsure what to do. Then he meets Toothless’ eyes, who bobs his head up and down in encouragement. Taking a deep breath, he finally turns back to you with a large smile, holding his hand out. “Ready?”

You eye his hand for a moment, and he wonders what you’re thinking. Then you reach out, grasping his hand firmly with a resolute nod. Hiccup swallows, feeling butterflies fill his stomach as he begins to gently pull you by the hand, leading you closer to Toothless. He brings you to the front, looking at his giant doe eyes and smiling at him. “Hey bud,” Hiccup starts, pulling you closer. “You know him already, don’t you?” He brings their joined hands closer, and you both watch as Toothless sniffs them, then lowers his head. “Okay, flat palm, like this,” Hiccup whispers, unfolding your hand before gently pulling you forward again, placing your palm on his snout.

Hiccup watched as your pinched, nervous face slowly eased up. You were relaxing, and soon enough he let go of you to let you handle it on your own. You began to slowly pet Toothless, and Hiccup could tell his dragon was enjoying the attention. Tiny purrs emanated from him, his tail wagging slowly and his spines shimmying on the top. You moved closer, pulling your other hand up to scratch at his chin how Hiccup usually does, and he couldn’t hold back his smile. Hiccup watched, entranced, as you took to Toothless quicker than he’d ever seen. Maybe Hiccup’s own personal connection to you helped- though, he did quite remember Toothless being not so fond of Astrid back then when Hiccup thought he liked her.

Once you chuckled and finally backed away, there was a light in your eyes that Hiccup couldn’t place, but adored. He hoped he could find you your own dragon soon if only to see this light in your eyes more often. Nodding, he takes your hand quickly, excitedly, and leads you around to the side. He lifts his prosthetic leg, hooking it into its holder before swinging himself easily up and over onto the saddle. He leans over completely, holding a hand out to help you up. You look hesitant once again but take his hand easily. You’re unsure of your footing at first, but you inevitably make your way up onto the saddle, sitting close behind Hiccup.

Toothless looks back, sharing a look with Hiccup, and he can’t help but huff out a whisper, “Okay, gentle now, bud.”

That must’ve been the first time that Toothless actually listened.

Toothless began a gentle jaunt off toward the edge of the cliff, widening his wingspan out and letting himself just jog right off the edge of the cliff. Hiccup heard your gasp, felt your arms tightening around his torso- felt his own cheeks heat up again- but you didn’t seem scared, or panicked. Your grip slowly loosened during the glide, and eventually, he heard a soft little, “Oh,” Emanate from you that tightened his chest. You were enjoying it! You were enjoying flying, just like he thought you would, and now he was finally able to share the thing he was most passionate about with you!

The wind blew through his hair, and the feeling of flying was incredible. He felt free, even while your arms were wrapped around him. Even more so, knowing it was you. It was as if he could feel his heart growing more and more. He couldn’t get enough of this, of you. The sun was still rising over the horizon once they flew far enough over the expanse of the ocean, and he could hear your quiet amazement at the sight. Hiccup let go of the saddle in front of him, spreading his arms out wide.

The flight lasted a long time, mostly silent with bits and pieces of conversation thrown in. Mostly things like, “You do this all the time?” Or “I never realized how freeing this would feel!” Hiccup wanted to throw his arms up and dance around in victory, but with sitting on Toothless- and still wanting to look cool in front of you- he managed to restrain himself. Just barely. However, it was getting close to noon when he decided they should land somewhere nearby for lunch. They’d definitely flown out farther than Hiccup had meant to, realizing this just as the Fogfall came into view.

“What’s that?” He heard your question and drew in a tense breath, leaning back into you to speak clearer.

“We’ve taken to calling it the Fogfall.” The view was immaculate, in all honesty. At the top, of it all is a tall island- similar to New Berk in a way- but halfway down the mountain was an abnormally large cave opening, spewing a thick, roiling fog that fell all the way down toward the ocean. A large portion of the water is obscured, with just the hints of a large craggy bottom on the outskirts of the fog. “We try to stay away from it. No one that’s gone inside has ever come out.”

“Oh,” You mumble, but looking back Hiccup could tell how entranced you were by the sight. Directing Toothless, who seemed wary of the place himself but acquiesced, the group of you began to make your way down to a small and short island off to the side of Fogfall. The island- if you could even call it that- was mainly just a rock formation jutting out of the ocean, but it had a nice plush spot of grass on top, large enough for your group to make themselves at home comfortably. And it gave a great view of Fogfall, one that you seemed to immediately be interested in after you were helped off of Toothless’ back.

Hiccup busied himself while your back was turned, reaching into the saddlebag on Toothless’ side, tossing him a fish that he catches mid-air before pulling out the rest. The lunch that he had prepared for them- he wasn’t much of a cook himself, but he had hoped that you’d be out long enough to have a picnic. It was one of the things he most looked forward to if he was honest. It almost felt like a date- but he knew it wasn’t! He totally knew it wasn’t a date, as much as he wanted it to be. But he could at least pretend, in his own head, for a little bit.

You turned around just as Hiccup laid the last of the food out on a blanket he had spread on the ground. He heard your surprised gasp, and he felt himself preen under your gaze. “I just thought you might be hungry, after flying for so long?” He smiled, plopping down unsteadily onto one side of the blanket. He reaches over, grabs a leg of meat and waves it toward you in a come hither motion. “Well? What are you waiting for?”

“That looks delectable,” You whisper, and while the Fogfall was nearby it provided no noise so Hiccup was able to hear you easily. He could hear Toothless behind him, probably bending himself backwards trying to sniff at his saddlebag for more fish. Just as you made your way to sit down on the other side of the blanket, Toothless huffed and moved to plop down next to Hiccup. He laughed, pushing his dragon’s head playfully.

“Okay, you big brute. I might’ve brought a snack for you, but if you’re still hungry you can go hunt down below. There’s plenty of fish in the sea.” Toothless lifted a gaze and met his eyes, then ‘subtly’ flicked his gaze toward Y/N and back, as if asking Hiccup if he’ll be alright. Hiccup could feel his blush forming, hoping you hadn’t noticed the exchange. He just pushes against Toothless’ head again, awkwardly laughing. “Well, go on then, if you must.”

Toothless stood, giving himself a full body shake before taking a running leap off of the edge of the cliff. Hiccup grinned, looking over toward you from the corner of his eye. You were already digging in, pulling a bread roll apart to stuff with meat. He bit his lip, unsure of what to say or do. What do people usually do on dates? On non-dates, he reminded himself. Shaking his head, he sits up straighter and waves his drumstick about.

“Did I ever tell you the story of how Toothless and I met?”

Lunch has passed rather uneventfully, though absolutely pleasantly. Hiccup told stories of his past- of Old Berk, and his father, and how everyone always did the right thing in the end- and he had your rapt attention the entire time. You asked appropriate questions, in his opinion, and gasped at the right parts that made him feel like the best storyteller of all the Vikings. He felt like he could talk with you forever, but with your food as nothing but crumbs left between you, he didn’t know how else to prolong your time together. You didn’t exactly seem in any hurry to get going either, staring into Hiccup’s eyes with a look he couldn’t decipher, but wished he could.

You suddenly looked away, almost bashfully if he had to put an adjective to it, and Hiccup tilted his head in response. Your fingers began toying with your shirt, stretching and contracting in a way that Hiccup wondered if you were wishing for your whittling tools. He supposed you hadn’t expected to need them while out flying. You began to idly play with one of the straps along your legs, undoing the buckle and retightening it. The silence had been comfortable around the two of you for a few minutes, so the next words absolutely surprised Hiccup to no end.

“So what about you and Astrid?”

Hiccup had to blink a few times, letting that question sink in. You seemed to curl more and more into yourself the longer he was silent, so he jumped to answer without fully thinking it through. “What? What about me and Astrid? You mean why she’s my second in command?” Your shoulders slumped, and a pouting look crossed your face that absolutely didn’t send Hiccup’s heart fluttering in his chest (He’s decided to keep lying to himself about that).

“No,” You almost stuttered on the word, pulling the strap too tight before loosening it once again, buckling it and moving to the one on your other leg. No matter how far Hiccup ducked his head, he still couldn’t manage to meet your eyes. “Like,” You huffed, and Hiccup began to wonder if saying this was hard for you. He wondered why. “Everyone at the village, when I first arrived, was betting on when ‘Chief Hiccup’ would propose to Astrid. Then one day, it all suddenly stopped. It was jarring, honestly. It was all anyone ever talked about, then abruptly it was something everyone avoided.”

Hiccup blinked a few times. Then a few times more. His brain wasn’t processing what you were saying, what you were insinuating. Then, it hit him like a dragon to the face. He pulled in a deep breath, widening his eyes unconsciously. You thought he was still dating Astrid?

“No,” Hiccup practically shouted, then cleared his throat, and he could feel a massive blush lighting his face. Now he was glad you weren’t looking directly at him, it would only make his embarrassment worse. “No, we- uh,” He rubs the back of his head, furrowing his brows. “How do I say this…” You finished buckling the second strap, but your fingers idled on the leather without any real intention. You weren’t looking at him, but it was clear you were listening. “We were together, for a while. And, well, yeah- everyone kept trying to push us to get married quickly.

“I assume they wanted me to settle down, to stop flying out away from the town so much, and figured that’d do it? Or maybe they were just hoping for my happiness?” Hiccup huffs, shaking his head, “No, that’s not the point. We were together, and with everyone pushing and pushing for me to ask for her hand, even Astrid herself, it really got me thinking. I was complacent. I was with her because I had admired and envied her strength and resolve; she’s really a wonderful woman. But I didn’t-” He huffs, lowering his gaze to the grass, letting his fingers begin plucking them from the earth. “I don’t like her romantically. It took me a long time to realize that, as I hadn’t really felt romantic attraction before, at that point.”

You finally lifted your eyes, looking up at him through a hooded gaze. You bit your lip and Hiccup felt himself still entirely, tensing himself to be sure he didn’t jump forward to place those lips on his own. He really, definitely, never felt this way before. “At that point?” You repeated his last bit as a question, tilting your head to the side just slightly. Hiccup was breathless for a moment, unable to answer. Was this it? It certainly looked like this was it, that you might share what he was feeling. And why not ask? Why not just go ahead, go for it? Hiccup was nothing if not brave, he’s come to learn. Or, tries to be anyway.

He opens his mouth, unsure what was about to come out but ready for it anyway, when he’s suddenly tackled to the ground. A large dragon tongue licks up his body and he groans, pushing Toothless off of him. “Gah, bud! You know dragon spit doesn’t come out!” He sits up, moving to stand, and begins to flick his arms to the side to get rid of the globules. “And it smells like fish, really bud?” He huffs, shaking his head. He’d practically forgotten you were there until you sidled up right next to him, holding the picnic blanket the two of you had just been sitting on up toward him.

“May I?” Your voice is quiet, but it stilled Hiccup anyway. He nods, unsure what he’s agreeing to. You bring the blanket closer and press it against Hiccup’s chest and- oh, you were just offering to help clean his suit. His face heats, a blush deepening on his cheeks the more you rub that cloth against him, and eventually he places a hand on your own, stopping your movements. He watches your throat flex as you swallow hard from the contact.

“I think I can get the rest from here, thank you,” Hiccup whispers, his voice rough as he stares into your eyes. A brilliant shade of pink lights up your own cheeks, and Hiccup wishes he had his artbook with him so he could draw this moment. He wishes he could find the right leaves or rocks, anything to create the right pigment, the right shade of pink that would match. He takes his time cleaning himself up, then begins to finally make his way over to Toothless. The dragon was giving him a look that he hoped you wouldn’t be able to decipher. Toothless was finally realizing what he’d just interrupted and looked both bashful and gleeful at the opportunity to tease Hiccup about it later. “Not a word, bud,” Hiccup whispers as he passes, stuffing the blanket into Toothless’ soggy saddlebag.

As he spun around, ready to clap his hands, he stopped before making a noise. You had your back turned once more, staring up toward the Fogfall. Seeing the thick moisture gave Hiccup an uneasy feeling he couldn’t quite place, even through his knowledge of its danger. He approaches you slowly, placing a hand on your shoulder. You still jump, but relax once meeting his eyes, turning to look back at the view.

“I don’t know why,” You begin, biting your lip before continuing, “But I seem drawn to it. It’s beautiful.” Hiccup shifted uneasily on his feet, shooting it one last glance before turning to face you directly.

“We should get going. It’s a long way back.” You nodded slowly, then sighed and turned to face Hiccup with a sweet smile.

“I’m ready.”

It was much the same as before, with Hiccup hopping on first and hoisting you up behind him. He felt the pressure of you wrapping your arms around his chest and hoped you wouldn’t feel the fluttering of his heart underneath your hands. He commanded Toothless to take flight, who ran toward the edge and glided off gently, still keeping his flight speed lowered as an act of kindness for you. Toothless began a wide arc, flying higher into the air without jarring you, and Hiccup couldn’t help but look back down toward Fogfall one last time.

Looking at that powerful fog, Hiccup flashes back to being a kid, the first time that he’d really met Toothless. That first ride with Astrid, when Toothless was summoned back to the alpha’s cave, flying through that thick fog that he could only see the nearest dragons to him, rather than the entire horde that had surrounded him. It was terrifying, in all honesty, the idea that while inside a fog so thick, you wouldn’t be able to see anything coming. Toothless slowly flew overhead, everyone looking down to admire the beautiful but deadly view. That must’ve been why no one had noticed his approach.

It was happening before anyone knew it- a large dragon, bigger than Toothless and crimson red in colour- had flown strikingly fast down toward them from their blind spot. As Toothless and Hiccup tried to regain their balance, Hiccup realized something rather quickly- they were trying to knock Hiccup off of his back! He took a firmer hold, glaring up toward this hostile newcomer. He heard your terrifying yelp, reaching back to steady you before slinking low toward the saddle. Then, he saw who was riding the red dragon.

“Didn’t realize any Nightfuries survived!” The antagonistic man called down, standing on the large dragon with a cruel smile on his face, hanging at an angle with a staff in hand curved around his dragon’s horn. Grimmel the Grisly. “Time to fix that.”

The dragon, while large, was still quite nimble. Toothless was faster, but with the added weight of an additional body other than Hiccup, he couldn’t fight or dodge to his fullest potential. Your face was buried into Hiccup’s back, arms tight around Hiccup’s torso as Toothless dodged around, the gleaming claws of the red dragon aiming directly for Hiccup every time. Toothless’ screech fills the air as he readies a bolt toward them, but just as he manages to aim and release, the dragon flies downward, then back up toward them with added speed.

They manage to knock into Toothless, the claws reaching out and coming close to Hiccup but just missing. However, that’s when Hiccup feels something that stops his heart. He felt lighter, colder- your grip had disappeared. Hiccup looked frantically around, spotting you at last. You were falling. Falling. The thing he’d promised you wouldn’t do- the thing he said he’d absolutely always protect you from! Ignoring Grimmel, he immediately directed Toothless downward. Faster, and faster, but you were falling too quick and he wouldn’t make it- Toothless wasn’t quick enough! Your arms were outstretched toward Hiccup, and he wanted more than anything to grab them and hoist you back up but you were too far away.

“Y/N!” Hiccup screamed, just as you were swallowed by the whiteness of the fog. Toothless pulled up short, stopping just above the fog. “No! No, go get him!” Hiccup tries to urge Toothless forward, but the dragon refuses to obey, scanning the whiteness around them with searching eyes. Hiccup growls out, they’re wasting time! He unhooks his prosthetic from the stirrup, swinging over and making to jump off of his back. He didn’t expect Toothless to catch him immediately, yelping out in fear. “No! Let go!” Hiccup kicked his legs around, pounding at Toothless’ arms. “Let me go! Let me save him!”

You were swallowed by the fog, descending into the abyss that no one had ever escaped from. And Hiccup was powerless to save you…

TAG LIST: *lecoindetobi , *gored-to-be-here , @am3nic , @ohdeersthings

#how to train your dragon #masc!reader #ftm!reader #he/him pronouns #hiccup x reader #hiccup x m!reader #hiccup x masc!reader #Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III #normal guy reader #carpenter reader #first time flying #lunch date #chapter three #introduction of villian!

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loserdiaz · 10 months

Text

fic rec friday fun! 💌

rules: share the links to your wonderful words with the most hits/most kudos/most comments/most bookmarks /most words/least words

tagged by @spotsandsocks @littlebitofdiaz @prince-buck-diaz and @bekkachaos 💗

most hits, most kudos and most bookmarks

and this is when the feeling sinks in ( i don't wanna miss you like this ) mature | 17.4k words

Buck was supposed to come home in a couple months, pretty close to Eddie's birthday. He was finishing his tour with the Navy and then they'll get their happy ending. That's how it was supposed to go.

Then two officers showed up at Eddie's door with a flag and thanking his husband for serving their country.

And everything changed.

2. most comments

believe in one thing (i won't go away) mature | 24k words

"I think— I think we should go to therapy. Together." Eddie says one night and takes Buck completely by surprise. "Therapy? Together?" "Yeah, like, couple's therapy or something. Frank told me he can recommend someone for us." "Eddie…" Buck says slowly, as if he's trying to explain the hardest math problem in the universe to a five year old. "We're not, uh— We're not a couple." "No, I know." Eddie frowns and looks down, fidgeting with the beer in between his hands. "But we're partners." He says, this time a lot lower that Buck barely hears it. "Right?"

or; the one where buck is figuring out stuff after waking up from a coma, eddie misses his best friend and they go to couple's therapy.

3. most words

made my way to a life i would choose | explicit | 26.1k words

In which Eddie transfers from his station to the Dispatch Center to be the LAFD Liaison, change is hard, staying away from Dispatcher Evan Buckley is even harder and not falling in love with the man is god-damned impossible. Eddie makes his way to a life he would choose and to a family who will choose him back. or affectionately called the buddie at dispatch fic <3

4. least words

I'm the one on the phone as you whisper | teen and up | 1.2k words (it has 999 kudos so if someone wanted to go and read it and leave a kudo i wouldn't complain about it 👀)

"Hey, how do you feel about an impromptu romantic date at a fancy restaurant with the love of your life?" He asks once he hears the call has been picked up. There's silence on the other line for longer than it's normal and Buck is about to check if Hen hang up on him when someone finally speaks— and Buck suddenly feels sick to his stomach. "Okay." Says the voice that is certainly not Hen's. The voice that's been haunting Buck's every dream for forever. "Eddie?" Buck chokes out, stuttering and hoping to God it's not him. "Yeah…" Of course it is..Buck looks up at his ceiling again, cursing the damn universe and its awful sense of humor. He's sure its laughing at him at this point. "Why? D-Did you mean to call someone else?"

or: Buck's date cancels but he has already made the restaurant reservation, so he decides to call Hen and ask if she'd like to take Karen there. He dials the wrong number. It all works in the end.

honorary mention to famous buck au bc it might not fit in any of this categories but it's still one of my fave fics i've written:

he never thinks of me (except when i'm on TV) mature | 18.1k words

"I have been in love, yes." He says after the most torturous of seconds. "Would you mind expanding on that?" Buck hesitates for a few seconds and then Eddie sees the exact moment he decides 'fuck it' as he straightens in his seat. "There was this guy in high school. He was my best friend." Wait. Hold on. Eddie freezes. Is Buck— Is Buck talking about him? or: In which Eddie finds out years later that his unrequited feelings for his high school best friend were not actually unrequited, Buck is stupidly famous now and they pine. They get there in the end, they just need to get their timing right. Inspired by the prompt: “you’re famous and just got asked if you were ever in love this should be good– WAIT WHAT."

tagging (no pressure): @monsterrae1 @buddierights @barbiediaz @cowboy-buddie @transbuck @transboybuckley @honestlydarkprincess @bigfootsmom @lesbianmaygrant @maygrantgf @buckitup @the-likesofus @spaceprincessem @alyxmastershipper @elvensorceress @ebdaydreamer @greyacebuckley @starlingbite @lovebuck @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy @911onabc @hippolotamus @shortsighted-owl and anyone else who wants to do it! 💗

#tag games #fic rec #buddie fic rec #911 fic rec #my fics #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #buck x eddie #911 abc #911 on abc #911 fic #my writing #april writes

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dailyreverie · 1 year

Text

Expanding the family

Part of the Undercover universe

A/N: Quick little something something to introduce the new member of the household. Also did someone say mutual pining? (I did it was me I said it)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 893 words

SERIES MASTERLIST

NOTE: There’s no taglist form but if you want to be tagged on every update for this universe please let me know!

You never expected that the second you opened your front door, there would be cat waiting for you on top of the dinner table.

You remain frozen on your spot by the door, grocery bags still in your arms as you look shocked at the feline that keeps swatting its tail from side to side, looking at you with the same surprise as if you were the one who wasn’t supposed to be there. A high-pitched meow comes from the cat then, and that is when you break from your questioning trance because you realize… someone must have let the cat get into the apartment.

“Buck?” You call into the apartment with caution, but even like that, it causes a louder meow from the cat. “Bucky!”

“Shit- hey! Hi! You’re home!” Bucky appears from around the hall, in his hands all the evidence that he was, indeed, responsible for the unexpected guest; with a shovel, a tiny mouse, and a rattle, all held in one hand, he holds the other one in front of you when he sees the surprised look on your face, as if he needed you not to move.

“There’s a cat on the table.” You stated the obvious, still in need of an explanation.

“Yes, yes, I know. Let me explain.”

“Please do-”

“I was taking the trash out, and when I threw the bag into the container I heard this little whine coming from inside.” You approached the cat slowly as he did too, relaxing at the sound of Bucky’s voice recounting the story with such softness. “I had to do a little digging, which wasn’t fun, but underneath one of the bags I found her.”

The kitten looked at you once Bucky finished telling her story as if she needed your approval now. You smiled at her and started scratching behind her ears mindlessly. “Was no one around?” You asked first. “She could be mic’d, someone could be using her for something. Remember why we’re here? Remember we could be surrounded by Hydra?”

“She’s clear, I checked.” He was quick to assure you, making you take a deep breath and smile softly.

“Oh, Buck.” You could feel your heart swelling because of him, of how much he had actually done for a cat he found in the trash - a cat that was left abandoned for its own luck and that he took it on himself to rescue.

“What do you think? Can we keep her?” He looked at you hopefully, big-eyed as he awaited your response. With your heart so full of love for him, and his eyes looking at you like that, how could you ever say no?

“Of course, we can. You live here too, remember?” You patted his cheek lovingly as you shared a smile. How could you not be completely head over heels for him, and how are you supposed to hide it? “Besides, you already bought stuff for her. When did you even-?”

“There’s a pet store around the corner, I googled it.” Bucky finished proudly. “I figured you’d say yes, and I thought I could get a jump start on getting Alpine settled.”

“Alpine?” You asked after a beat, and Bucky’s cheeks began to redden.

“Y-yeah, well… she kept climbing the couch, and she’s all white, y’know, like snow… So I thought maybe we could call her Alpine.” In his stutter, his deep Brooklyn accent came to surface as he scratched the back of his neck. You had turned into the human form of a smile meanwhile, which didn’t particularly help to calm his embarrassment. “What?”

“You are adorable, Bucky Barnes.” Your head shook in disbelief.

🦾✨🦾✨🦾

It was late at night when Bucky finished the day’s report and decided to join you in the living room. He could hear the movie you were watching playing in the background and the scent of popcorn fading. Truth is, he was exhausted, it was late, and sitting on a couch with you by his side sounded like the perfect way to end his day. “What you watching, doll?” He asks into the room as he approaches it. You don’t answer, though, maybe you were too deep into the movie, or he was still too far for you to hear, so he asks again once he’s about to sit, except that when he turns to you to ask, he realizes the reason why you didn’t answer.

You are sound asleep on the couch, all with hands under your head and calm breaths, and right next to you, curled against your chest, there’s a ball of white fur sleeping as peacefully as you are. Bucky can’t help but watch you for a minute - or maybe two -, he doesn’t care if its creepy, that’s the last thing that goes through his mind.

Bucky Barnes has never been one to need a lot, or to ask a lot from life, but for the first time his life felt complete, with you and your kitten, as dumb as it could sound. Right then, he forgot all about the mission, right then he was a regular guy finishing his work day to join you at the couch; right then, he urged the universe to let him always be near you. How could he not be completely head over heels for you, and how was he supposed to hide it?

🦾✨🦾✨🦾✨🦾✨🦾✨🦾✨🦾

Thanks for reading! Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed it!

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #boyfriend!bucky #bucky barnes #soft bucky #bucky blurb #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #soft!bucky #bucky and alpine #alpine the cat

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mycurrent-hyperfixation · 6 months

Text

I'm Just Plain (Locklyle One-Shot)

Summary: Lockwood can't stop thinking about a conversation he overhears between Lucy and Holly.

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.1k

Pairings: Anthony Lockwood x Lucy Carlyle

Tags: fluff, pining, angst

A/N: My sincerest apologies for my complete disappearance. Life has simply been lifing. But I'm back with a whole new hyperfixation so buckle in kids! Let me know if any of you guys are part of this wonderful fandom because Locklyle has taken my heart and ran away with it. My taglist are still those that said they wanted to be tagged in any of my work so let me know if you want to be added/taken off! As always, I hope you enjoy x

Lockwood had never really considered himself much of a Listener.

That was Lucy’s department, and he had always been content to leave that side of business to her.

But on that dreary day at Portland Row, it was as if the Talent had arisen within Lockwood by the utterance of a single statement. Perhaps the words were not said by a ghost. Perhaps they were instead spoken from the lips of his co-worker. But either way Lockwood had scarcely ever been so haunted.

He hadn’t been a part of the conversation, and in truth he didn’t know whether he would have liked to be. For if he had been in that room, it would have been quite the task to hide his sudden sharp intake of breath and quickly furrowing brow.

No, instead he had been in the next room, the one they usually reserved for important meetings with important clients. But no one had called upon Portland Row that day and so Lockwood had sat – lying quite unceremoniously upon the armchair so that his feet dangled from one armrest and his head lay against the other – wholeheartedly contempt as he flicked through the day’s tabloids. Lucy had been talking to Holly. He had heard their mumblings through the small crack in the door that separated them, had paid no mind as to what it was they were discussing.

Lockwood was not one to pry upon his employees, and yet he could not quite help himself from wishing he had been eavesdropping on the conversation next door. For perhaps if he had not been so enthralled by the alleged scandalous affair of an up-and-coming actress, he might have learned the context behind the statement that filtered so casually through the door.

“I’m just plain.”

I’m just plain.

Maybe it was the sound of Lucy’s voice that had roused him from his reading, or maybe it was the simple absurdity of the statement. Either way, his attention had successfully been captured and so it was almost mindlessly that he stood gently from the armchair and made his way to the door. He did not open it. Instead, he pretended to look out the window beside it as his ears listened intently.

Holly did what any sane person would have done in that situation: deny the statement wholeheartedly. But her compliments fell on deaf ears as Lucy quickly changed the subject. Lockwood had no real reason to continue listening now that they were discussing Holly’s upcoming plans for Portland Row’s spring cleanout. In truth, he should not have been listening in the first place. And yet he remained in that spot, rooted to the floor as he faced the window, until George stumbled into the room sometime later and asked why Lockwood was standing in the dark.

Later that night, he found himself alone with Lucy as they sat around a dining room table. It was nice to get to spend a few moments alone with her like this, even if they were in what was likely an extremely haunted house. The two of them had completed their survey of the upper floors and had decided to retreat back to the kitchen to prepare the tea as they waited for Holly and George to return.

The lamp was flickering between them, its light casting a warm glow onto one of Lucy’s cheeks so that shadows seemed to dance across her skin. She was leafing through the articles George had procured from the library that afternoon. Something about a vengeful wife or a serial killer or some other kind of gruesome death that likely should have piqued Lockwood’s interest more than it had. In truth, his mind had been elsewhere that afternoon, too far away to pay close attention to anything as trivial as important facts about the case they were currently on.

I’m just plain.

He looked upon Lucy as she read: the warm glow of her skin from the lamp’s light, the sharpness of her cheekbones, the softness of her lips as she mumbled quietly under her breath – a habit of hers that Lockwood had noticed only occurred when Lucy was deep in thought. He would be lying if he said he didn’t love it. He saw the way her eyes flickered impossibly quick across each page and the subsequent thoughts behind them.

Thinking. She was always thinking.

He saw the way she cocked her head just infinitesimally to the side every so often, using her Talent as if it had become almost a habit to check for danger every few minutes. He saw the way her hair had come loose from the confines of behind her ear to hang down before her. He itched to reach forward and brush it away – actually felt one of his fingers twitch as if it intended to do so of its own volition – before he curled his hand into a fist and held it firmly in his lap.

Plain, he thought.

And then he found himself inhaling sharply, as if now his vocal cords were joining his finger in the fight against his cowardice and were preparing to speak for him. What laid on the tip of his tongue was a mystery to him – perhaps the profound adoration he had for the girl in front of him, perhaps a reminder that they needed to get milk on their way home. Lucy even looked up at him then, those eyes of hers staring expectantly upon him so that Lockwood became grateful he was sitting down when one of his knees suddenly gave out.

But the sheer unknown of those words had him scared, and so he swallowed them hurriedly, just as he always did, before they could make their escape. And for just a moment, Lockwood swore that he saw the slightest hint of what he thought to be disappointment flash across Lucy’s eyes.

She returned her attention back to the papers before her, her hand absentmindedly reaching for another biscuit.

Now was not the time, he told himself just as he always did. Not like this. Not when they were in a haunted mansion with what was very likely a dangerous ghost lurking somewhere around them.

Lucy deserved better than that: better than him.

“There better be some biscuits left for me,” George said loudly as he banged into the room, quite unceremoniously dumping his rapier onto the table between Lucy and Lockwood. Lockwood jumped slightly in his seat at the sudden and unexpected onslaught of noise brought by their co-worker and tried not to stare when Lucy’s lips upturned into that wonderful smile of hers as she snickered at him.

“I’m not making any promises,” Lockwood responded, trying and yet failing to slow his beating heart as he felt Lucy’s gaze remain upon him.

Taglist:

@alicetweven @theh3aven @manamitoyota @cherrypieyourface @kaqua @c0untryclub @goldencherriess @emotionaldreamer @givemethesleep @milkiane @miscreantsnopossoms @legendaryfestsoul-blog

#locklyle #lucy carlyle #anthony lockwood #lockwood #lockwood and co #lockwood netflix #lockwood and lucy #george karim #george cubbins

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bellaxgiornata · 10 months

Text

Safe Haven [Chapter Thirteen]

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4.5k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains violence, drug use, domestic abuse, smut, hurt/comfort, angst, mutual pining, friends to lovers

a/n: You get a Mikey POV at the beginning of this chapter! And a bit of fluff at the end finally to make up for the previous chapters ending! I admittedly edited this fast so I hope I did not miss any grievous errors. I just wanted to get the next chapter posted already. I hope you enjoy and feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @loveroftoomanyfandoms @farfromstrange @rotscinema @1988-fiend @shouldbestudying41 @shiorimakibawrites @norestfortheshelbywicked @mattmurdocksstarlight @acharliecoxedfan @roseallisonparker @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @mattkinsella @ms-murdockswift @theetherealbloom @24hflower @mattmurdocksscars @schneeflocky @the-nursery @lionalsowrites

Michael had experienced many situations in his life where he'd been nervous before–times when he’d been on edge. Oftentimes he felt like that before clipping someone and hoping the job went off without incident. And considering the things he’d done over the years, he really shouldn’t have been as nervous as he was right now. But yet here he was, still somehow finding himself anxious as he walked up the drive next door, making his way towards his neighbor's house and hoping for a chance to speak with you.

He thought the date yesterday morning had gone well–you'd even told him you'd enjoyed it. Granted he supposed that was before he thought he was being followed home after the coffee you'd both gotten and he had pulled you down a side street hoping to protect you from bullets meant only for him. And then Amanda had interrupted both of you with a situation that honestly could have waited until later that day instead of her ruining Michael’s date with you. He wished she had showed up after he'd finished spending his morning tangled in his sheets with you. He hadn't anticipated you being quite that bold on a first date, and it certainly hadn't been his intention that morning to take you back to his place for sex after the coffees, but he also couldn't deny that he'd wanted to, either. Over the past few days he’d found himself often wondering what pretty sounds you would make when he finally got you in his bed and his face buried between your thighs. He’d admittedly often found himself growing hard at those thoughts and in need of relief, conjuring up scenarios while he was in the shower. So Michael had been incredibly irritated when Amanda had popped by and interfered.

But then you'd completely flipped on him. He knew Amanda’s timing with family shit had been awful, and he knew that her diminishing what was going on between you both to just sex was out of line, but he'd figured you knew what she was saying was all bullshit. He thought he'd made it clear multiple times already that he liked you; hell, he'd told you as much a few nights ago when he'd stayed with you after your accident. He'd gone off on Birdy when she'd threatened you and he thought he'd made it clear he'd wanted you to stay here after that. That he would help protect you and your sister from your ex.

So why had Amanda’s words hurt you so badly? What had he been missing? Because to him, she had clearly been spouting bullshit, so what had he missed?

Michael had finally gotten your phone number at the beginning of the date yesterday, too, and while you'd told him not to call, he certainly had. Quite a few times now, actually. Though you'd never answered. After the fourth time he'd come to expect that, but he'd still tried anyway.

When he'd gone to bed last night, he'd noticed the curtains on your bedroom window had already been drawn closed. And when he'd woken this morning, they'd still been like that. You were shutting him out and it had hurt him more than he'd thought it would to feel like he was losing something he'd never truly had.

So he'd showered and dressed this morning before he found himself outside and heading next door. He figured he might have more luck if he tried to talk to you in person, desperately hoping you'd give him a chance and explain what he'd done so wrong. To find some way to apologize to you. But as he came to a stop in front of the door, he felt his palms beginning to sweat from nerves; he was afraid he'd say the wrong thing and make everything even worse. He was afraid you'd still refuse to speak to him. He was afraid you might be planning to leave again.

For some reason the thought of losing you before he could figure out what that pull he had to you was all about terrified Michael. Something about you had felt different to him from the very beginning, and it wasn't because you’d been hiding secrets from him. You were unlike anyone he'd ever encountered before–certainly different from the women he'd been with. It was clear on your face that you'd known pain in your life, that you'd had to do things to survive that maybe you hadn't wanted to do. That you were lonely and misunderstood. And Michael could certainly relate to that.

With a heavy sigh he reached out, knocking three times against the door. He tucked his hands into his jacket pockets as he waited, hoping you'd be the one to answer. But a few moments later, when the door swung open, it was your sister who was standing there scrutinizing him. Somehow that had only made him more nervous.

"Hello Michael," she greeted, kicking a hip out and blocking the doorframe as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Wondered when you'd be showing up."

He sent Megan a tense smile, his hands curling into fists in his pockets. "Is Grace around?" he asked. "I–I was hopin' to speak with her."

"Figured as much," Megan replied, her small frame still commanding the entryway. "But no, she's not here."

Michael frowned at her response, his focus dropping to his feet. Was she lying because you didn’t want to talk to him, or was she telling him the truth? Were you really not here?

"You fucked up, you know that right?" Megan told him.

Michael’s eyes flew back up towards Megan's, hopeful that maybe she could shed some light on what had happened. If he knew then maybe he could fix things with you.

"I’ve been tryin’ to figure out what I did wrong," he replied earnestly. "Been tryin' to talk to your sister but she's not answerin' her phone."

Megan's eyes narrowed back at him, a frown pulling at her mouth. "What do you mean you’re trying to figure out what you did wrong?" she asked slowly.

"I mean I don’t exactly know how I fucked up," he answered, shaking his head. "’Sides the way things ended on our walk back, I thought things were goin’ alrigh’. And I know Amanda interrupted things and was rude but–"

"Your sister-in-law called my sister a whore," Megan cut in sharply. "And you said nothing to defend Grace to her."

Michael’s jaw dropped, confusion drawing itself across his features. He’d never heard Amanda call you a whore, he’d have been raging and fuming if he’d heard those words come out of her mouth. And he sure as shit wouldn’t have sat back and let her speak to you like that.

"What?” Michael gasped. “I never heard Amanda say that. I swear to ya she’d have regretted it the moment she’d said that.”

"Did she say my sister was a quick fuck for you?" Megan asked flatly, her brows raising. "Implied she was just there for sex? That all you wanted from her was sex?"

Michael’s dark brows knitted together on his forehead, deep creases forming as he tried to make sense of what Megan was saying. So it had been what Amanda had said after all that had upset you.

“I–yes, she did, but it was bullshit,” Michael explained quickly. “I thought Grace knew that. Amanda, she hasn’ been alrigh’ after what happened to her son, I wasn’t lookin’ to further upset her. But I thought Grace knew she meant more to me than that.” He took a step closer to Megan, his eyes pleading. “Ya have to believe me, I didn’t mean to upset her. I care ‘bout Grace. I know I don’t know her well, but I care for her.”

The stern look on Megan’s face faltered briefly, but only for a second. “You had something with Amanda though, didn’t you?” she asked. “Grace told me you did. She thinks she’s just a distraction for you and that’s why you didn’t straighten Amanda out. You hurt her.” Her eyes narrowed back at Michael as she continued. “And I did warn you about hurting her.”

Michael’s heart sank in his chest. He hadn’t known her words had affected you so much. Hadn’t known that you’d been so bothered by the fact that he’d been with Amanda in the past. It had been so long ago now, a stupid affair that he shouldn’t have had with his brother’s wife. And she’d chosen Jimmy at the time, after all. That wasn’t what Michael wanted, to be someone’s second choice. To be less than. He hadn’t felt that way when he was with Allison, which was why he’d ultimately married her. Though he certainly hadn’t felt whatever he’d been feeling for you when he’d been with either of them, either.

“I want to make it right,” he assured Megan. “I just need her to talk to me. So I can explain myself. Fix things.”

“She’s too pissed at you to talk,” Megan informed him.

Michael’s shoulders dropped, his expression falling with them. Did that mean things were just over before they’d even had a chance to begin then? He’d already ruined things with you?

Megan’s arms uncrossed from her chest as she exhaled a loud sigh, the noise drawing Michael’s attention. Her expression had softened visibly to something less hostile and Michael eyed her curiously.

“You like my sister?” Megan asked him.

“Yes,” he answered instantly.

“And you’re not just fucking around with her?” she questioned next.

Michael shook his head swiftly. “No, ‘m’not,” he replied.

For a long while Megan stood there in silence, studying Michael closely, her eyes scanning his face. After a moment she nodded.

“I’ll help you because I like you and I think you’re genuine,” she said. “So don’t fuck this up. Are you going to be home this evening? Say…eight-ish?”

“I can be, yeah,” he said.

“I’ll lure her out to the back garden a little before then,” Megan told him. “For a sister chat. Keep an eye out–in a not creepy and noticeable way, too. I don’t need her knowing I helped you out here.”

“You would–would do that for me?” Michael asked.

Megan pushed off the doorframe, her stance no longer meant to intimidate. “I want to believe you’re a good guy and you have good intentions with my sister,” she answered. “So I’ll help you. This time.” She raised a finger, pointing it threateningly at Michael’s chest as her expression darkened. “But so help me if you hurt her, lead her on and leave her for your brother’s wife or something, I’ll fucking hurt you. I don’t care what your last name is. Are we clear?”

The corner of Michael’s lips twitched upwards into a small smile. He nodded, his hands finally uncurling in his jacket pockets.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I hear ya, and I don’t intend to hurt her.”

Huddled together with your sister on the bench outside, you drew the blanket tighter around your shoulders as a chill ran down your spine. It was colder out now that the sun had finally set, which wasn't saying much because it always seemed to be cold in Dublin. You felt like you'd been living in layers since you moved here.

"How'd writing go at that new coffee shop you visited?" Megan asked from beside you.

"It was good," you answered. "Nothing interesting happened. Just finished a chapter and drank some coffee. Dealt with social media shit for Angela."

You glanced at Megan sitting beside you, her head resting against the backrest of the wicker bench. Her focus was on the thick clouds in the sky above that threatened rain.

"How was your day off from the hospital?" you asked her.

Megan shrugged a shoulder. "I ran some errands. Went to my yoga class. Nothing too eventful." Her eyes shifted towards you. "Any sign of Victor today? Or was it a good day on that front, too?"

"Thankfully nothing popping up from him," you answered. "Nothing since that weird email I didn't open the other day, at least." You sighed, eyes dropping down to your lap as your fingers nervously fidgeted with the blanket. "It almost makes me more nervous when I go a bit without seeing signs of him lately. Like I feel like he knows I'm here and is just…watching me or something."

Megan's head rose from its place against the bench, her focus fully on you. Her left hand landed on your leg beside hers under the blanket you both were sharing.

"You don't think he knows though, do you?" she asked. "That you're here? You haven't even been here that long yet."

"I don't know," you muttered. "I don't think so but I just…I have this feeling, you know? Like he's getting closer. It makes my skin crawl."

"Let's not talk about it then," Megan said. "Topic change."

"To what?" you asked, still nervously fidgeting with the blanket in your hands.

"I don't know," Megan said. "Anything. Anyone catch your eye at the coffee shop?"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. Hands balling the blanket in them, your attention turned up towards the sky.

"I'm not here to date," you reminded her. "You know that."

"You need to live your life, Grace," she said, bumping your shoulder with hers. "You don't want to wake up some day years from now feeling like all you've done is hide."

You opened your mouth, entirely prepared to protest that you were living your life, but the sound of the sliding door opening on the back of Michael’s house stopped you. Gaze slowly making its way over, you saw him closing the door behind himself. Even in the dark you could see his eyes were clearly focused on you.

Stiffening on the bench, you saw him making his way straight towards you and Megan. You could feel your heart nervously pounding in your chest with each of his approaching steps. You didn't want to see him. To talk to him. You knew he'd been calling you since yesterday morning but you couldn't bring yourself to answer. It had hurt you that he'd let Amanda say those things about you, and it had hurt you just as much to realize it was most likely because he still wanted her.

"G'evenin' Megan," he greeted as he neared the fence, his attention briefly switching to your sister before it returned to you. "Grace," he said, tone a bit softer.

"Michael," Megan greeted back. "Come out here to freeze your ass off, too?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. Coming to a stop beside the fence, he placed his hands along the stone and leaned forward over it. He looked nervous as he focused on you.

"Was actually hopin' I could talk to ya, Grace," he said.

Beside you, Megan started pulling the blanket off from around herself. You caught her eye, shooting her a pointed look that clearly asked her not to leave you alone with him.

"Just talk to him," she urged. "If you want to yell at him afterwards no one is stopping you."

As Megan rose from the bench, you readjusted the blanket around yourself to keep warm. Your sister sent you a final, meaningful look before she made her way back towards the house. You heard the sliding door open and close, your eyes dropping down to your feet as you curled further in on yourself under the blanket.

Silence soon fell between you and Michael after Megan’s exit. For a minute neither of you spoke, your heart still beating heavily in your chest. But you refused to be the one to break the silence first.

"I'm sorry," Michael hesitantly called out. "I didn't realize that what Amanda had said had hurt ya."

Your eyes narrowed, a flash of anger at the memory of yesterday morning hitting you. "You think it's not hurtful to be called a quick fuck?" you shot back, your eyes still refusing to meet his.

"I thought ya knew what she was sayin' wasn't true," he replied quickly. "Grace, if all ya were was a quick fuck I wouldn't be lettin' ya in when my–my son was killed," he said, voice full of emotion. "Makin' ya coffee in the mornin' after. Runnin' to your house with a gun when I hear screamin'."

Your gaze slowly rose up to Michael’s face as he continued on, his words coming out faster. You could feel your anger slowly easing the more he said.

"I wouldn't have stayed with ya that night ya hurt yourself," he told you. "And told ya I liked ya in the mornin'. Asked ya out a second time feelin' like a dumb arse hopin' you'd change your mind and say yes to me. Actually give me a chance."

Your expression softened as Michael continued on, realizing he had a point. Though knowing that didn’t mean that he couldn't still have feelings for his brother’s wife.

“If ya were only a quick fuck, I wouldn’t have takin’ ya out for coffee,” he continued earnestly. “I honestly woulda been content to sit in that shop with ya all day listenin' to ya talk 'bout anythin' instead of goin’ home with ya after, Grace. I wasn't the one who suggested it, even if I’d be a lyin’ arse if I said I hadn’t thought ‘bout ya like that, because I have. I’m attracted to ya, I am, but–but that isn’t what I want from ya.”

“And what do you want?” you called out.

You saw the tension ease from his body at the sound of your voice. There was an expression on his face that looked a mix of sad but hopeful in the dim light from Megan’s house shining along him.

“I just want to get to know ya,” he answered. “That’s what I’ve been sayin’ all this time. I just want to get to know ya, Grace.”

Tightening the blanket around yourself further, you felt something flutter in your chest at his admission. “And what about Amanda?” you asked.

For a moment he looked like he was about to say something, but what he did instead surprised you. In a fluid and almost graceful movement, you watched as he pulled himself up and over the four foot stone fence. Your eyes widened in surprise as he landed with a soft thud on the pavement, but you didn’t have time to process what was going on because he was heading over towards you on the bench immediately after.

He sat down beside you slowly, as if he was uncertain that you’d let him. His eyes had never left your face the entire time, and the intensity you found in them had you almost holding your breath. Shifting on the bench, you turned towards him nervously.

“There is nothin’ between Amanda and I,” he told you firmly. “There was in the past, yes, but I told ya before that it was a mistake havin’ an affair with my brother’s wife. And I meant it. I can’t speak for her, but I can tell ya now, I don’t want Amanda. I want you . I want to see what it is that keeps pullin’ me to ya.”

“But what she said–”

“I fucked up,” Michael admitted ardently. “I fucked up and I didn’t say anythin’ that mornin’ because I knew Amanda has had a difficult time grievin’ the loss of Jaime. She’s been strugglin’ with the aftermath of what she–she asked me to do, too. She’s been havin’ a hard time and I didn’t want to start somethin’. Didn't want to make things worse. And I figured ya knew better than to listen to the shit she was spewin’ because I’d thought I’d made it clear ya weren’t a quick fuck.” He sent you a sad smile. “Ya saw how upset I got with Birdy, and she’s the closest thing I’ve got to a mum, Grace. But she threatened ya, and it wasn’t right, so I told her off. Ya have to believe me that it wasn’t intentional when I hurt ya yesterday. I realize now that I fucked up.”

“You did,” you whispered. “That hurt to just stand there and hear your… ex talk about me like that while you just let it happen.”

Michael’s palm landed on your knee over the blanket, his hand firmly grasping it. “I swear to ya, she’ll never speak like that ‘bout ya or to ya again, Grace. I won’t let it happen,” he said with a firm shake of his head. "Ya have my word. Because ya aren't some distraction or a quick fuck. Ya mean more than that to me."

Biting your lip, you held his gaze. Your hands were holding tight to the soft blanket, resisting the urge to lean forward and kiss him after that long-winded an impassioned apology he'd given you. You'd never had a man before take responsibility for their actions and apologize like that. He was right though, he had done all of those things for you and more. Like shielding you from possible gunfire the other day. And he seemed pretty adamant about not having feelings for Amanda.

"Can ya forgive me?" he whispered, his hand timidly leaving your knee and gingerly cupping your cheek. "Let me prove to ya I mean what I say?"

You nodded slowly in response. "Just please don't toy with me, Michael," you murmured.

He shook his head, his thumb stroking your cheek gently. "I would never," he promised. "I feel like shite for unintentionally hurting ya, pet. I never meant to, I swear."

Sending him a small, nervous smile, you opened your arms and in turn partially unwrapped yourself from the blanket. "Are you cold?" you asked.

A little grin slipped onto his lips as he nodded, his hand returning to his side. "Freezin' my arse off, actually," he answered.

You laughed lightly, scooting closer to him on the bench. "Here," you said, offering him some of the blanket.

For a moment the two of you sat flush beside each other, trying to figure out how to wrap the blanket around both you and Michael, but he was vastly broader than Megan. The blanket wasn't quite big enough to wrap around the pair of you.

"I'll be fine without it, Grace," Michael finally said in defeat, beginning to unwrap the blanket from around himself. "Just use it yourself, pet. I don't want ya to get cold."

An idea struck you and your hand flew out to stop him. "Wait," you said.

Michael paused, shooting you a curious look. Ignoring the fluttering of nerves in your stomach at the way he was eyeing you and at what you were about to do, you wrapped your arms around Michael’s neck and pulled yourself up and into his lap. Micheal’s eyes grew wide in shock, his brows shooting up. You bit back a smile at the surprised look on his face, an amused huff of laughter slipping out of you. Michael’s hands instinctively flew around your waist and back, steadying you along his lap as you adjusted yourself.

"Now it'll wrap around both of us," you said.

Taking the blanket from its place behind Michael, you shifted and began wrapping it around both of you. He momentarily released his hold on you to help, pulling the blanket higher up around your shoulders as he did. You grabbed the ends of it to hold it closed before leaning back into Michael’s chest when his arms encircled you again. Your head came to rest against his shoulder and you quickly felt yourself relaxing into him.

“I’d say this is much better,” you said.

“Mhmm,” Michael hummed out in approval, turning his head so he could look at you. “Y’know for bein’ so timid sometimes, you’re quite bold, Grace.”

“Well,” you began, a smile tugging at your lips as you shifted your head along his shoulder, looking back up at him, “I’m usually bold. I blame you for making me nervous sometimes.”

“Ya make me nervous, too,” Michael admitted softly. “Was terrified of talkin’ to ya after what happened yesterday. Afraid I’d completely fucked everythin’ up. Afraid I’d…lost ya already.”

Adjusting your hold on the blanket, maneuvering both ends to your right hand, you slipped your left hand up his neck to gently cradle the side of his face. Silently you held his eyes for a moment, your fingers lightly running along his beard as you stroked his cheek.

“You didn’t lose me, Michael,” you whispered. “I’m still here.”

A broad smile gradually spread across his mouth as he gazed down at you, the warmth of it finally eliminating the sadness that seemed to have been lingering on his face and in his eyes since he’d stepped out of his house this evening. You couldn’t resist the smile that spread on your own face at the sight of it. Michael was a handsome man, there was no doubt about it, but when he smiled like that it left you speechless.

“How ‘bout I cook ya dinner sometime soon?” he asked. “We can figure out a time later this week and I can make things up to ya over some food.”

Your brows rose onto your forehead. “You cook?” you asked.

He chuckled lightly, his smile turning a little sheepish. “A bit, yeah. A few things Birdy taught me, at least. Though I’ll admit, it’s been a bit since I’ve done much cookin’. But if you’re up for it, I’d like to.”

A warm sensation stirred in your chest as you continued to gaze up at him. No one had cooked for you before, especially not Victor. This was new.

“I’d like that,” you whispered.

“Can I consider it our second date?” he murmured, lowering his forehead to yours.

Leaning upwards just a hair, you brushed your lips against his. You felt his mouth immediately respond to the light touch, his lips placing a soft kiss to yours.

“Yes,” you whispered.

Michael’s lips curled into a smile against your own for a moment, and you felt yourself melting into him and his warmth from your place along his lap. You felt safe wrapped in his embrace, his arms firmly holding you to him. With the hand still resting on his cheek, you drew him that last bit of the way towards you, your mouth gently connecting to his in another kiss. Micheal eagerly responded, his arms somehow managing to squeeze you a bit tighter to his solid chest.

This kiss wasn’t like the ones the two of you had shared yesterday morning though. It wasn’t desperate and hungry, but rather unhurried and relaxed. Both of your mouths connecting over and over as if neither of you were in a rush, just taking your time enjoying the moment. It wasn’t long before you forgot all about the chill of the evening, your arms both snaking around Michael’s neck as you further pressed yourself to him, reveling in the taste of him on your tongue as the blanket gradually fell from the pair of you.

#michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella fluff #michael kinsella #kin (amc)#kin fanfiction

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bijouxcarys · 5 days

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𝐓𝐨 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐒𝐨 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 (𝐑𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧)

Masterlist

To Love So Completely Masterlist

Summary: Sometimes the pain of what should never have been, opens your eyes to what can be.

Note: Biggest apologies for the wait. Life has been hectic. Mind has been fucked. This chapter is much longer, just to make up for the wait. I sincerely hope you all enjoy <3

Tag list: @celestial-dragoness @chromations @callmethehunter @firethatgrewsolow @friccinfricks @angrychicksposts @dzdndcnfsd @ourshadowstallerthanoursoul @m-faithfull @tangerine1969 @inanebula @strsmn

𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙞𝙨 𝙙𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝘼𝙣𝙟𝙖; 𝙢𝙮 𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙩 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡. 𝙄 𝙝𝙤𝙥𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙧𝙚 ♡

“Ya sure you’re alright in the back?” John peered around the passenger seat.

Elena nodded, closing her eyes as she rested her flushed head against the cool glass of the window. She could hear the gear shift croaking as Robert sent the car into drive, pulling away from the Bonham house.

She knew her first nightly venture would be a struggle; too many memories painfully associated themselves with the simple act. But Robert had been so kind… So excited for this moment. There wasn’t a chance in Hell that Elena was going to deny him of this night, much less pull out at the last minute.

Besides, she was looking forward to it. Spending time with John and Robert together was a fargone memory by this point, and she missed those times like a teenager longing for a childhood toy. It was a case of willing her brain to suppress past events, to allow her to enjoy living her life as she’d been stripped of it for at least a year.

The peculiar thing? She’d been fine all day. In fact, John wasn’t sure when the last time he’d seen Elena so excited for something. Of course, he knew it was Robert—and he took no offence to it; it was about time she allowed herself to see him how he saw her. She’d repressed it for long enough, at least in John’s eyes. He wasn’t so ignorant as to ignore how Robert’s presence the past couple of weeks had improved her mood, even if only for a few minutes. And for Robert? Well… Pining wasn’t a strong enough word.

Elena had managed to keep her emotions in check throughout the day, but as soon as she had settled into the backseat of Robert’s car, that was when the nerves crept in like unwelcome visitors. The weight of the evening’s plans bore down on her, the apprehension thick in the confined space of the car.

Don’t freak out…

Don’t make it a big deal…

You’ve done this plenty of times before…

You’ll be fine.

But what if–

No, stop it.

What if he’s ther–

He won’t be.

What if he is, though?

John and Robert will be with me, shut up.

They’ll kill him, though.

Shut the fuck up!

Robert kept the volume on the radio at a modest level, not just for the sake of his and John’s conversation but also to ensure the soft melodies wouldn’t drown out the presence of Elena in the backseat. After all, why listen to anything other than the enchanting silence that accompanied the ethereal being occupying his car?

She remained mostly quiet, a certain grace that seemed to fill the space without uttering a word. Robert had offered her a warm smile when she settled into the back, momentarily struck dumb by her beauty. However, her reluctance to engage in any conversation herself only seemed to amplify the allure. She simply existed, and that was enough to captivate Robert.

Throughout the journey, Elena shifted in her seat, eventually resting her head against the back of the passenger seat, perched on the edge of her own. It was a subtle attempt to distance herself from the situation, a silent protest against the inevitable. The guilt of her reluctance weighed heavily on her, like an unspoken burden she was bearing on the two men in the front.

“El?”

“Hm?” Her response was a soft murmur, her eyes flickering towards John.

“Did you hear what I said?” he asked, turning partially in his seat to look back at her. She simply shook her head, mumbling an apology. “I asked if The George Inn was okay?”

Despite her familiarity with the area, the mention of The George Inn seemed foreign to her. She stared blankly for a moment before nodding slowly.

“We can go somewhere else if you’d prefer, luv,” Robert interjected, stealing a glance over his shoulder. The inability to fully look at her was a form of torture.

“No, it’s… it’s okay. The George is fine,” Elena replied, her voice barely above a whisper. She lifted her gaze to meet Robert’s finding a fleeting moment of respite before he returned his focus to the road, his eyes occasionally flickering to the rear-view mirror.

John couldn’t shake the feeling that The George Inn might not be the ideal choice, but he trusted Elena’s judgement. With a reassuring smile, he turned back to face the front, allowing the silence to settle once more, with the exception of an Elvis tune gracing the atmosphere.

Robert navigated the streets with ease, his familiarity with the city evident in the way he effortlessly manoeuvred through traffic. Birmingham was a city of transition, with the decline of traditional industries giving way to new opportunities—something Elena had also unfortunately missed out on.

As they approached The George Inn, the streets became quieter, the buzz of the city fading into the background. The pub itself was a charming sight, its brick exterior adorned with hanging flower baskets. A sign creaked in the wind, proudly declaring the establishment’s long history.

Robert pulled into the pub’s car park, the gravel crunching beneath the tires as they came to a stop. The scent of freshly-cut grass mingled with the faint aroma of ale, wafting from an open window.

“Aaand… We’re ‘ere,” Robert announced, turning off the engine. He glanced back at Elena, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Ready for a pint, me.”

Elena returned the smile to the best of her ability, glad that she was able to exit the car to take a moment to breathe in the crisp air.

“Ya not the only one, mate,” John quipped, stretching out his arms with an exaggerated groan. Robert came around the car, fingers tucked into the pockets of his jeans as he joined John and Elena towards the welcoming glow of The George Inn. The sounds of lively chatter and clinking glasses were muffled, but inviting.

It was bustling with activity, the dimly-lit interior filled with cosy nooks and crannies. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the room. They found a table in a corner, away from much of the lively crowd, and settled in.

As expected, Elena’s nerves were still fraying. She sat with John, patiently waiting for Robert to return with the first round of drinks. Just get half a pint in ya, girl, you’ll be fine…

“Are you sure you’re alright, El? I can always take you back to the house if ya don’t want to be h–”

“John, I’m fine. Honestly, it’s okay. It’s just… weird being out,” she sighed, resting on her arms on top of the table. She watched Robert from afar, easily spotting him along the line of patrons waiting to be served. He was one of the taller ones, and definitely the most intricately dressed. Whilst she felt safe with John, she knew what he was like when drunk, so found herself to be relieved at the blonde reminder at the other end of the pub that she wouldn’t have to do this alone.

“Alright, well, you tell me if you need a breather, or if you need to go, yeah?” John was stern, meaning every syllable he uttered. Elena smiled, leaning into him to give him a small nudge of endearment.

“I’ll let you know if you’re not too wankered,” she teased.

He rolled his eyes, nudging her back. “I try to be nice, and this is how you treat me…”

“I’m being realistic, Bon-Bon,” she smirked, giving him a knowing look. “But I know you care… You don’t have to remind me,” she dropped her voice to a whisper, softening her tone.

Once Robert brought the first round to the table, John wasted no time in necking half of his pint, indulging in the night like a bee to honey. Elena fidgeted with the edge of her glass, her fingers tracing the condensation that had formed on the cold surface. Robert paced himself with his drinks, fully knowing he was the designated driver for the evening.

“So,” Robert began, setting his half-pint glass on the table and leaning back in his chair. “You been ‘ere before, Elena?”

Elena glanced around the pub, taking in the rustic charm of the exposed beams and worn wooden tables. “Don’t think so,” she shook her head, offering a faint smile. “Been in the area, though.”

“D’ya like it?”

“Yeah, it’s nice in here.”

John chuckled, raising his glass in agreement. “Aye, there’s nothing quite like a good old English pub.”

Elena snorted at her best friend’s enthusiasm, watching on as he downed the rest of his pint with little struggle. “Bloody hell, Bon, calm down.”

“No way!” he slammed his glass down with a vivacious laugh. “First night I’ve had since tour where I can drink as much as I want without worrying about driving back.”

She rolled her eyes, glancing at Robert with an amused smirk. “How do you cope?”

“‘Ey, I’ve only had to put up with it for 4 years, you’re pushing 17!” Robert cackled, flipping his hair back as he looked at his bandmate.

Elena wasn’t expecting Robert to have remembered a detail like that; she’d told him the age she met John, but that was 4 years before, and she never mentioned the length of time. Which could only mean one thing to her… he’d thought about it more than was required, and he made sure to keep it noted in that mysterious brain of his.

The realisation left her momentarily stumped, seemingly stuck on his features as he bantered with John across the table. A small involuntary smile played on her lips, that same tingling in her stomach she experienced at rehearsal resurfacing with a steadfast vigour.

Why have I never noticed that little freckle on his nose before?

Her eyes dropped to his jumper, cosy and woolly as it encased his body—oh, his chest is quite… broad, isn’t it? Perhaps it was the small buzz she was getting from nearly finishing her first pint, but as she continued to survey him without his knowing, the threat of her past diminished to a mere signal in the back of her brain, and no longer had a hold on her demeanour.

He’s… beautiful…

John was on another one of his little rants about primary schools enforcing religion on the students, complaining to Robert about the school he and Elena attended making them sing hymn after hymn morning after morning for the entire 7 years they were there.

Robert couldn’t help but chuckle, biting back a grin at the thought of a little Elena rebelling, rolling her eyes, being everything he knew she was deep down. The her he knew 2 years before. Not that he disagreed; had he been at the same school with the duo, he would have joined in with the rebellion.

“Oh, there was this one time,” John began, wheezing and cackling at the memory, “We were singing… fuck, what was it… I think it was All Things Bright And Beautiful, or some bollocks like that—anyway, me and El were sitting on the benches at the back, ye, all that…” His demeanour had calmed already, enjoying the alcohol settling.

“El insisted on not singing a word. Like, she was really adamant that they weren’t goin’ to make her sing that shit.” He pointed in her direction. “Teacher started on her, didn’t he? Prick—he was a weirdo, that bloke… Started sayin’ all this crap about her going to Hell ‘cuz she weren’t singin’.”

The blonde rolled his eyes, sipping his drink. As he briefly glanced in Elena’s direction, he noticed it. Her eyes. Scoping him out. A little smile on her face. Much like the instincts he fought every time she was near him.

So cute…

“Mhm,” Robert nodded along with John, not drawing attention to the fact he had caught her looking at him.

“So, this one…” John suddenly reached out to grab Elena’s shoulder, making her jump in her seat and snap her out of her thoughts. “This one!” He shook her a bit. “Turned ‘round… and said… to this… wanker…” John leaned forward, as though the teacher in question were to catch them spilling primary school secrets, before putting on the best Northern accent he could to imitate her. “Just as long as you won’t be there, Mr Gill.”

John broke out into unstoppable laughter, holding his stomach. Robert’s brows raised, and he whipped his head around to look at Elena with a surprised expression. “Did ya?” he asked through a chortle.

Biting her lip, Elena felt her cheeks heat up and embarrassment flood her senses. She nodded, squeezing her eyes shut. “Yes… Yes, I did say that, didn’t I?” she cringed, looking at John. “That was bad, wasn’t it?”

“No! The arsehole had it coming!” John praised her, howling.

“He did…” Elena agreed, face bright red, thanks to the embarrassing childhood story combined with the alcohol slowly settling into her system. Robert couldn’t tear his eyes away from her as she grinned ear-to-ear, the familiar spark igniting in his gut whenever he had the chance to witness her smiling form. And he hadn’t seen it quite this bright in a long, long time.

As the night progressed, Elena felt more and more comfortable sitting around this table, in a crowded environment. However, she could attribute that to the bubbly as she finished her second pint. It was as if small fragments, piece by piece, were adhering back together, painting a much missed mirage of her life before David.

“Another round, ye?” John announced, rising from the table. “Same for you, El?” he asked, pointing at her with an air of expectancy.

“Ye–wait, no!” she quickly stopped herself, pressing her lips together. “Uh, maybe just a half this time? Don’t want to get wankered, unlike some.” She gave him a pointed look, earning a playful huff of dismissal from the drummer that Elena took as him noting her request, before he looked at Robert.

“Gimme a shandy, Bonz.”

“Bloody shandy…” he said, shaking his head. “Ye, alright,” he accepted, before heading in the direction of the bar, still mumbling to himself about Robert’s choice for the evening.

“You want one, Elena?” Robert held out his packet of Marlboros, one dangling unlit from his lips. Accepting the offer, she took one from the pack, placing it between her lips. It was almost instinctual, the way she leaned into Robert for him to strike a match and light the cigarette.

Instead of focusing her eyes on the cig, this time, she kept her gaze locked onto his. So close to him… Oh, why couldn’t I have noticed him 3 years ago?

In an unconscious attempt to keep him close to her, Elena brought her hand up to cast a barely-there hold on his wrist, using her other hand to shield the match’s flame from any stray draft. And as the two parted, she gently brushed her thumb over his knuckles.

And… there’s the alcohol-induced confidence…

They don’t call it Dutch courage for nothing, after all…

“How ‘ave you been, luv?” Robert asked, sitting forward and folding his arms on top of the table. Even with his jumper, you could see the outlines of his toned build. Elena was almost distracted.

“Um… Well,” she sighed, “I’ve been better, but…” She stopped, looking directly into Robert’s vibrant eyes, before she lowered her voice. “I’ve definitely been worse… Anyway, enough about me, what about you? Mr Rockstar,” she smirked.

Through a bashful grin, Robert tipped some of the fag ash into the tray in the centre of the table. “Mr Rockstar…” he repeated, seemingly pondering the name for a moment. “‘S that all I am to you now, eh?” He glanced at her, lifting the cigarette up to his lips.

Elena smiled, rolling her eyes. “No, and you know that.” She shook her head. “It’s just that… from what Bon’s been telling me, you’ve done quite alright for yourselves.”

“Guess ya could say that, ye,” he shrugged nonchalantly.

“Don’t leave any room for modesty, do ya?” she lightly jested.

“I’m a very humble lad, Elena. I just so happen to also be in a very successful band at the same time,” he volleyed, shooting her a signature smirk.

The dimple…

Whilst Elena appreciated the humour in their conversation, it didn’t stop the guilt of not seeing Led Zeppelin live, not once, since their formation and official name change from The New Yardbirds.

In fact, the ability to name more than a couple of songs eluded her more than she cared to admit.

“But, seriously?” Robert continued, eyes still stuck on her as she inhaled the smoke from her cigarette. “I think we’ve got it. We’re actually doing it!” His eyes lit up, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he hoped that Elena would find the prospect attractive—better yet, the idea of Elena being proud of him.

It seemed the Gods above had listened carefully to Robert’s inner monologue, as Elena chimed those exact words.

“That’s good! I’m proud of you–all of you,” she emphasised, heat rising in her cheeks by the second. “When do you go back on tour?”

“June,” Robert replied with an unrestrained grin on his face. He spoke through a drag of his cigarette, narrowing his eyes a little in thought. “Gives us a bit of time to reset.”

“It must be draining,” Elena casually commented, watching his hand as he tipped his ash. “I couldn’t do something like that, anyway.”

“Ah, ya get used to it eventually…” Robert shrugged his shoulders. “Just happy to be back at the farm, spend time with Strider–”

“Oh my God!” Elena cut him off, gasping and reaching out to hold onto his arm. “I still need to see the farm, and Strider!” Robert chuckled, turning his arm over to playfully press his palm against hers.

“I told yer like a year ago that ya need to come over!” he laughed, looking down at their hands. “I always said you’d love it there–barely anythin’ around.” He emphasised with a nod of his head in Elena’s direction.

She let out a whine, dropping her head briefly, almost catching her hair on her cigarette in the process. “Why the fuck didn’t I do something about that… twat any sooner?”

Robert’s face dropped a bit, but it didn’t stop him from carefully curling his fingers upwards so that hers thread through gently. He found himself having to steady his breathing ever so slightly upon feeling her warm skin completely flush against his; her hand so delicate in comparison to his. He never wanted to let her go.

“Pints, pints, pints, pints,” proclaimed John as he came barreling back over to the table with the three drinks skillfully held between his hands. And instead of pulling away from Elena, Robert kept his cigarette between his lips as he reached out for his shandy, nodding and thanking John in the process. John was almost too intoxicated to take note of the pair’s hands settled atop the table, in plain view. Almost.

Though he didn’t mention it, he most definitely saw his friends sitting closer to each other than when he left, with their hands locked together. What the fuck happened whilst I was gone?

For a moment, Elena felt the night would end successfully — that just maybe it would be the event that snaps her out of the fear she’d garnered of the outside world. The fear of mistepping; you’re doing this wrong, you said the wrong thing, you’re being unreasonable, stop doing this, stop doing that…

Even as two girls, clearly under the influence and flustered, came stumbling over in their sudden recognition of the two growing rockstars sat with Elena, she didn’t feel as inadequate as she expected to. Whilst Robert did release her hand to give attention to the two females, putting on a standard act of charm and wit, he didn’t preposition them, and he most certainly didn’t forget that Elena was there.

In fact, Elena had convinced herself that was it for the evening; that the two of them holding hands—something a teenager would get giddy over—would be the closest she’d ever get to him, and that it would be a standalone incident. But as Robert sent the two intoxicated girls on their way, his focus was immediately back on her. Whilst he didn’t look directly at her, only laughed with John about the interaction, he did take her hand back in his.

He even sent her a smile of reassurance, as though he never even had to let go of her. And for a moment, she wished he wouldn’t.

If only fate would be so kind.

In the midst of her long-awaited comfort, hand still locked in its warm embrace with Robert’s, Elena noticed John’s face grew cold. A hard stare piercing the atmosphere like a bayonet. They were halfway through a conversation, all smiles, but now it was like the drummer had switched personalities completely.

Only an earthquake, or some magnanimous natural disaster could interrupt John Bonham from the jolly flow of a night out. The destructive force of a hurricane stood miniscule in comparison to the subject of John’s harsh glare as Elena followed its course.

David.

Her head snapped back in the direction of her best friend, a warning glare on her face. “John, don’t–”

“Bastard…” John spat under his breath, brows narrowing to cast an ominous shadow over his eyes. His knuckles whitened as his grip on his glass tightened. “Fuckin’ prat, look at ‘im…”

“Bonz,” Robert leaned to the side a bit, attempting to interrupt John’s line of sight. Of course he also wanted to go over to the twat and knock his teeth out. He knew deep down that this man must have done something serious for Elena’s demeanour to change so much in a quick instance. Looking at her, he instantly noticed the way she hunched her shoulders, the palm of her hand against his becoming clammy, and the way she pleadingly looked at John, silently begging him not to do anything stupid.

John’s heart had sped up to a rapid pace, tunnel vision denying him of seeing his two friends’ desperate faces. He was zoned in on one person, and one person only. Inhibitions gone. Cares dashed.

It all came crashing down when David’s gaze caught him for a split moment.

“Ye, what you lookin’ at, ya mop-head cunt?” John tilted his head back, as if challenging him. Even though David couldn’t hear him over the chatter of the pub, he could definitely tell that it was aimed at him. David swiftly looked away, engaging in conversation with his own group of friends, friends Elena had seen many times before, and friends that had become the closest thing to friends that she could actually see whilst stuck in that relationship.

“John,” Elena snapped a little firmer, taking her hand away from Robert’s. “Stop it.”

“Nah, look at ‘im,” John huffed. “‘Avin the time of his life after treatin’ you the way he did.”

“Bonz, drop it, mate,” Robert sided with Elena, though he understood the anger bubbling up inside John’s chest. “‘S not worth it.”

Before either Robert or Elena could process it, John had shot up from his seat, clearing his throat and straightening out his jacket. Then he was gone. Crossed the distance of the pub, in the direction of David.

“Fuck,” Robert mumbled under his breath, before turning in his seat to watch as John barrelled over to David, fists clenched at his sides. He had his hands ready to push himself up if things got out of hand, which nobody was sure whether that would happen. Elena stayed frozen at her seat, eyes glued to the scene unfolding, physically unable to do anything to stop it.

The pair were just waiting for something—anything. The tension was insurmountable. John was in David’s face, nostrils flared as he spat what seemed like venomous words; they were practically inaudible from their place across the pub. But it was when David delivered a sharp nudge against John’s shoulders with his hands that things escalated.

John didn’t hold back as he swung his arm around to land a hit on David, the same replicated by the latter. They stumbled backwards, knocking drinks over, causing patrons to get up from their seats to avoid being crushed by the two fighting men.

Elena sent an alarmed glance towards Robert, who took it as a sign that they needed to intervene before their friend spent the night in jail. She followed the blonde’s lead, sticking behind him as they rushed to grab John.

“-does it?! It make ya feel good, makin’ girls feel like shit, eh?!” John yelled, his jacket splattered in what was assumed to be beer. Robert was able to push through the gathering crowd easier than Elena was, and she could hear him calling to him, grasping at his clothing in an earnest attempt to pull him away.

Eventually, Elena managed to squeeze past people, hoping to be able to convince John to drop it and leave it alone. But as soon as she got to his side, joining Robert in pulling at him, the group stumbled, sending David careening back into Elena, his elbow connecting with the side of her head. Losing her balance, she fell back into a table, knocking more drinks over. However, before she could apologise to the people whose nights they had ruined, a familiar blonde head of hair swooped in front of her, creating a blockade between herself and David.

Even if David hadn’t elbowed Elena intentionally, seeing her take a hit from that man sent Robert into a rage. Uncharacteristically puffing his chest with anger rather than the intention to swoon and peacock his way around a stage in front of crowds of people. His brows were narrowed as John’s were earlier, and he too sent a harsh shove against David, catching him off-guard.

“Oi! That’s enough!”

Shouts could be heard from those working the night shift, and it became clearer that they should leave, for their own sakes. Elena reached out to grab at Robert’s jumper, turning him around. “We need to go,” she let him know, nodding her head in the relative direction of displeased shouts.

Robert simply nodded, understanding, before spinning to grasp John by the back of his collar, using all his energy to drag him away from the chaos, practically kicking and screaming. Insults continued to spout from his mouth, his drunken state making each one more damning than the last.

“Pack it in and walk!” Elena snapped in John’s direction through clenched teeth, helping Robert in taking him outside and towards Robert’s car.

“Bloody hell, Bonz,” Robert huffed, running his free hand over his face. He couldn’t be too mad at him; if he matched the level of intoxication John was at, he may have just done the exact same thing.

The trio were mere inches from the car when John’s knees gave out, making Robert and Elena’s job ten times more difficult. Before they could process it, the drummer had doubled over, the events taking a toll on his body as he regurgitated the recent contents of his stomach, which mostly consisted of booze.

“Of course,” Elena sighed, patting John on the back as he coughed and sputtered beside Robert’s car. She lifted her gaze up to Robert, rolling her eyes in a light-hearted attempt to pull the heavy atmosphere back up again.

“Oi, don’t you get my shoes, mate,” Robert warned, shuffling to the side to help his friend into the back of the car. Before he settled in, John grabbed a hold of Elena’s sleeve, and stared up at her with bloodshot eyes.

“I love you,” he drawled, tightening his grip on her.

“I know,” she responded with a tone akin to that you’d use on Jason.

“Thank you,” he continued.

“That’s alright, just move your legs so we can put you in the car properl–”

“You’re my best friends…” John furrowed his eyebrows, almost on the verge of drunken tears as he decided to hold onto Robert’s sleeve with his other hand, pulling him closer to the car so the two were pressed together, side by side. “And you two are just…” He seemed to lose his ability to form a coherent sentence, and just let out an exasperated groan. “I mean you two…” He shut his eyes, letting his weight fall forward until his head was laying against Robert’s arm.

“We are yer best friends, but you need to get in the car so we can take you home,” Robert chuckled, trying his best to lift the drummer up with Elena’s help.

“Where’s Pat?” he inhaled sharply.

“Home, Bon-Bon,” Elena answered, trying her best not to burst out laughing. “She’s at home, and home is where we’re going, alright?”

“Home!” he announced, pointing in a random direction.

“Jesus Christ,” Robert snorted, finally managing to get a single leg in the car.

“Yeah, well, if you don’t let us put you in the car, we’ll be going to jail for trespassing, so move,” Elena lightly scolded him, seemingly snapping him into action as John launched himself back across the seats. She just stared at him, before humming, “Close enough,” and shutting the car door.

With equally exasperated breaths of relief, Elena and Robert quickly slid into the front of the car, eager to make their departure as swift as possible. Neither of them felt like spending the night bailing John out.

The majority of the ride back to the Bonham house was relatively quiet, with the exception of the car’s engine and the heavy snoring from the drunk drummer in the back. Elena felt her eyes growing heavy and the events of the evening had sobered her up to an almost uncomfortable amount. She didn’t think she would ever miss a sofa as much as she did at that moment.

Robert took the time whilst driving to regain his composure. Seeing David in and of itself was enough to get his blood pumping in all the wrong ways, but once that wanker’s elbow connected with the side of Elena’s face, he was a goner. Five more minutes in that pub, and he would be joining his best friend behind bars.

Thoughts ran a mile a minute, his eyes darting to the side to catch a glimpse of Elena’s blank expression. Or maybe she was just mulling over what transpired… Either way, Robert’s dejection intensified once he realised the way he planned to end this night would not go entirely to plan, though not impossible.

All he had to do now was get John and Elena back home safely and without any more disruptions.

Elena closed her eyes, gathering her bearings as they neared the familiar street she’d called home for at least a month now. She spun in her seat, peering over the back to check that John hadn’t destroyed the interior of Robert’s car with more bodily fluids, and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw him completely passed out. He almost looked too comfortable to wake up. However, Elena suspected Robert wouldn’t necessarily be thrilled by the idea of a drunk John Bonham unconscious in the back of his car overnight.

The drummer had gone completely limp as Robert and Elena attempted to pull him from his laid back position. Mumbling incoherencies, the occasional rant about a fry-up leaving his half-asleep voice. Eventually, Elena had to retrieve Pat from inside the house to assist them.

“Bloody Nora, what the hell happened?” she sighed at the sight of her husband propped up against the car with his legs bending at the knee.

“Hi darling…” John slurred, catching a glimpse of his wife and holding his arms out to her.

“Don’t ‘hi darling’ me—let’s get you inside.” Pat shook her head, taking Elena’s place beside him and wrapping an arm tightly around his waist to help Robert take him to the front door. Elena kept close behind them, in case of any mishaps.

“Oh, uh, he yacked in the car park, so just…” Robert informed Pat once they’d crossed the threshold of the doorway. “...Be warned.”

Pat simply huffed and shook her head, glancing at Robert. “Well, thanks for staying sober yourself so you could bring him home this time.” Even though she was displeased with her husband, she couldn’t be angry at either Robert or Elena; John’s drunken behaviour was scarcely contained.

“Gah!!” John suddenly yelled, shielding himself from the “bright” lights of his home with his hands. He was immediately shushed by Pat.

“Shh! It’s eleven at night, you’ll wake up Jason!” she whisper-shouted at him, leading him over to the sofa.

“Eleven already?” Elena asked with an exasperated exhale. “No wonder I’m so tired… Hang on, don’t put him on the sofa, Pat, I have to sleep on that tonight!” She kept her voice as minimal as she could, before she felt a hand on her forearm, snapping her from her concerns about potentially having to sleep in a combination of dried-up beer from John’s jacket, and remnants of vomit from… John’s jacket.

She met the eyes of Robert, whose demeanour had softened now with the knowledge that they’d arrived at their destination.

“Uh, before you go in, can I just talk to you for a minute?” he asked, raising a hand to scratch at the top of his head.

Between the piercing gaze from those beautiful blue eyes, and the muted chaos from the middle of the living room where Pat was attempting to remove the jacket from John, Elena almost missed the question.

“Wh–oh, yeah, sure, yeah…” she babbled, looking over to Pat. “I’ll be with you in a minute, ‘kay?”

“No worries, love, just make sure you’re not too long; I need to get this one to bed and lock up.”

“No more than ten minutes, Pat,” Robert confirmed, smiling sympathetically at the woman and her unfortunate task for the night.

The pair stepped out, closing the door behind them. Elena let out a sigh, her fingers finding solace in the tousled mess of her hair, while Robert leaned back, hands in pockets, a silent observer of her momentary reprieve.

“Y’alright?” Robert’s voice cut through the stillness, his gaze fixed on Elena as she took a moment to collect herself.

“Yeah,” Elena replied with a wry laugh, her words laced with a hint of disbelief. “Just wasn’t expecting the night to go like it did…”

“Don’t think any of us did,” Robert murmured, watching as she smoothed down stray strands of hair, a testament to the chaos of the evening. Despite the disarray, there was a magnetic pull in him, a desire to run his fingers through the untamed locks, to hold her close. He dug his fingers further into his pockets, grateful for the anchor they provided.

“Well, I’m sorry,” Elena interjected suddenly, her words catching Robert off-guard.

“What on Earth are you sorry for, luv?” Robert’s brow furrowed in confusion.

Elena raised an eyebrow, her gaze unwavering. “If it wasn’t for the whole Da–”

“I don’t want to hear any apology from you, Elena,” he cut in sharply, the close-mention of that name a bitter pill to swallow.

Their eyes locked in a silent exchange, Elena’s resolve faltering in the face of Roebrt’s unwavering stance. She nodded, conceding defeat, and shifted the conversation. “Anyway, what did you want to talk to me about?”

“Ah!” Robert straightened up, grateful that she accepted that she needn’t apologise. With a flourish, he turned to open the boot of his car, retrieving a stack of square-shaped objects. “I figured since I’m goin’ away for a couple of weeks, I’d give yer these now…”

Holding out his arms, he passed Elena a stack of brand new records, and added, “So, uh… Happy Birthday.”

Elena’s eyes widened in surprise, a pang of guilt hitting her as she realised she had forgotten her own bloody birthday. Robert’s concern was palpable as he questioned, “Did… Did I get the date wrong? I-I know it’s already been, but–”

“No, no, you didn’t,” Elena reassured him, shaking her head. “You just… You remembered.”

A sympathetic smile tugged at Robert’s lips as he stepped closer. “And… you didn’t?”

“Less ‘not remembering,’ and more… just not thinking about it,” Elena admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “Everything’s been so hectic, I guess everyone just kinda… forgot.”

“Everyone but me,” Robert corrected her with a grin.

“Everyone but you,” Elena echoed, her gaze lingering on him, filled with a mix of gratitude and something else she couldn’t quite place in her exhaustion.

Realising he was probably blushing like a fool, Robert cleared his throat, gesturing towards the envelope sat on top of the records. “So, I know you’ve been a bit behind on music lately, so, I, uh… yeah… I mean, I wouldn’t read the car now, probably do that when yer alone, but–” He paused as Elena ignored his advice, reaching for the envelope as she set the stack gently on the boot of his car. “-Or you should just read it now, whatever works…”

Elena glanced up at Robert with a playful smirk, before directing her attention down to the birthday card not unlike the one he’d sent her a year before, but with a much simpler, yet hard-hitting message within:

Elena,

Without being too much of a sap... I'm very proud of you. Wish I could have been there when you needed somebody, but I can be here for you now.

Seeing as you missed some of the best music of the last year or so, I hope the present isn't too forward. I even slipped in a couple of records from this Led Zeppelin group I hear is pretty decent…

Anyway... it's time to enjoy your 20s and explore the world however (& with whomever) you damn well please!

You're too precious to hide away. Mother Nature deserves such beauty to explore what she has to offer. Don't you dare forget that for a second.

Happy birthday, El.

Robert x

Not yet having the ability to look back up at him, Elena bit down on her lips to steady the urge to grin ear-to-ear. Instead, she silently slipped the card back into the envelope and took a moment to look through the small collection of records. The Beatles’ Abbey Road, The Who’s Tommy, The Rolling Stones’ Let It Bleed, Creedence Clearwater Revival’s Green River, Nick Drake’s Five Leaves Left, Janis Joplin’s Ol’ Kozmic Blues, Jimi Hendrix’s Electric Ladyland, Aretha Franklin’s Lady Soul…

And sitting right at the bottom, in all their glory, were Led Zeppelin, and Led Zeppelin II.

Maybe it’s a bit too much… Shit, did I come off too strong? What if she doesn’t want any of that? Robert wracked through all the worst case scenarios, his breath coming to a standstill as he watched Elena look through what he’d picked out for her, and finally lifted her head to meet his eyes.

Neither of them said anything. The occasional rustle of the wind played as their soundtrack.

“Thank you.”

It was gentle. Her voice only just reached his ears. It was a “thank you” that held the weight of multiple insinuations; that became obvious by the intensity in her eyes.

Thank you for the records.

Thank you for the beautiful card.

Thank you for still caring.

Thank you for asking me to go out with you and John tonight.

Thank you for remembering my birthday.

Thank you for being my friend.

Thank you for being so kind to me.

Thank you for being… you.

Robert’s breath caught in his throat as Elena closed the gap between them, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist and burying her head against his chest. It wasn’t even a few seconds before he had instinctively encircled her shoulders, holding her against him with an urgency.

With a trembling hand, Robert dared to reach up, his fingertips hovering hesitantly behind Elena’s head. Summoning all his courage, he did what he had longed to do since the moment they met—he gently tangled his fingers in the silken strands of her dark hair. His touch was tender as he massaged her scalp, losing himself in the sensation of her soft locks.

Lowering his head, Robert nestled against her hair, enfolding her in an embrace that felt like home. Elena had never imagined finding solace in the arms of the tall, golden-haired, goofy boy she had come to know through her own best friend. Yet, in that moment, she found herself grateful that it was Robert who offered her the warmth she had been missing.

“You sure you’re okay, darlin’?” Robert murmured against her hair. She squeezed him tighter, taking a deep breath before nodding against his chest.

“I am now.”

Familiar flutters were once again unleashed in Robert’s stomach, and he pulled his head back so he could look down at her face, though his hand remained glued to the back of her head. As he bore into the deep brown of those big eyes, the only thing illuminating them being the interior lighting of the Bonham house nearby, he couldn’t resist the urge to smooth his free hand over the side of her hair, bringing it round to gently caress her face.

“You’ve got lovely eyes,” he whispered, appreciating every contour of her face in its close proximity.

Elena swallowed thickly, giving into Robert’s touch, only just realising how starved of affection she’d been for so long. “Have I?” she whispered back, pulling one hand from around his waist just to bring it up to hold onto his elbow, fingers gripping gingerly at his jumper.

“Yeah… you do,” Robert smiled with a nod of his head. His eyes darted around her face, landing on the slightly parted plushness of her lips. “And everything else,” he added without hesitation.

She smiled softly up at him, the effect his compliments bestowed on her overtaking her ability to thank him. But that smile eased up once she realised where his focus laid, nothing but the utmost adoration in his observation.

It was freeing not overthinking her next four words; there’d be no better time or place to utter them.

“Just do it, Robert,” she barely whispered with an unwavering gaze.

Robert hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest as he searched her eyes for any hint of uncertainty. But all he found was a steadfast determination, and with a sense of awe, he realised he had heard her unexpected request correctly.

“Are you sure?” he asked softly, barely audibly.

“Yes,” Elena affirmed with conviction.

For Robert, it felt like a dream come true; the girl he had secretly pined for had finally granted his unspoken wish. With a gentle brush of his lips against her nose, he tested the waters, gauging her response to each movement. And when she tilted her head, seeking his lips, he couldn’t resist it any longer, and they finally met in a fleeting yet profound moment of connection.

It was so brief. Mere seconds. The flesh barely touched. But the feeling was so monumental.

A feather-like tickle.

Despite the chill of the night, all Elena could think about was how heated the minimal space was between them. How his shaky breath caressed her like a blanket. She didn’t want to pull back—she couldn’t. Not now.

He tasted of San Miguel and Marlboro when she went in for another kiss, truly locked in once both of Robert’s hands held her face. She fell completely at his mercy, breathing out steadily through her nose as she held onto the feeling.

I’m kissing Robert. Robert.

The way she felt against his lips superseded any expectation or wild fantasy Robert could have ever conjured up. He’d thought about this moment for years. What it would be like to claim her lips like this. To express his raging admiration with more than just a smile. She was a delicate, fragile jewel to him; the finest diamond crafted by the Heavens.

Elena’s hand tightened around his forearm before it ran up to his wrist, tilting her head to the side to allow his kiss to deepen. The tip of his nose brushed against her cheek, and the unruly curls atop his head slumped forward to curtain their faces in their moment of bliss.

With an experimental swipe of his tongue along her lower lip, the pair separated, breaking the kiss with a miniscule, intimate smacking sound. Elena fluttered her eyes open, meeting his ocean gaze as he settled his forehead against hers.

“I’ve wanted to do that for 4 whole years…” he laughed airily, shutting his eyes and gently nudging her nose with his.

“I wish you had,” she breathed in a hushed tone. He gave her a look of understanding, her implication that the pain she had suffered at the hands of someone who didn’t appreciate her the way he should have, could have been avoided in their utopic retrospective.

Before Robert could go in for another kiss, the sound of the Bonhams’ front door opening snapped them out of their own little world, the two of them ripping apart like strips of velcro.

“Are you almost done?” Pat asked before she’d fully opened the door, but paused momentarily as she saw them parting. She cast a curious glance between them, a small smirk tugging at her mouth before she continued. “I need your help,” she said directly to Elena. “John’s woken Jason up with his loud bloody mouth.”

Elena snorted a laugh, running a hand through her hair and nodding. “Yeah, I’ll be in now, Pat.”

A thud distracted them briefly, attention averted to one of the upstairs bedrooms. Pat groaned. “I swear to God…” Giving Elena and Robert one last smile, she disappeared back inside to tend to the source of the noise.

Elena turned back to Robert, a bashful smile on her face. “Right, well,” she inhaled, grabbing the records from the boot of his car. “Thank you so much for these.” She nodded down at the gifts.

“Anytime, luv,” Robert responded with a knowing smirk. Though, in his gut, he was cartwheeling, bouncing off figurative walls. I kissed her. And she kissed me back. It happened!

“So, uh,” Elena was stumped for further words, feeling her face heat up.

“Go on,” he chuckled, gesturing to the house, knowing she had to go now. As much as he didn’t want to part with her that evening. “I’ll, uh,” he gave her a subtle once over, “I’ll call the house when I’m over in Wales, ‘kay?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, the giddiness bubbling up in her chest almost too much to contain, but somehow managed to.

“Oh, one more thing,” Robert called out to her as she made her way to the door. She turned on her heels to look at him again. “That Led Zeppelin group,” he glanced down at the records, “somethin’ tells me they’re pretty fuckin’ hot right now.”

Elena laughed, the grin on her face unwavering. “Yeah, well…” she looked him up and down, seeing the boy in front of her as nothing less than a grown man. “...I think that might just be the singer.”

It was Robert’s turn to gleam bashfully now, shaking his head to the side to push his hair back over his shoulder.

“Bye, Robert.”

“See you in a couple weeks, darlin’.”

Watching her disappear into the safety of his band mate’s house, from his place beside his car, he knew now more than ever that Elena Townsend was the woman he was destined to love.

And God-be-damned if he didn’t make her his.

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