#I gave in to read the special after series oneshot so maybe… just maybe | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aloesarchives · 3 months

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Two for the Price of One (JJK Oneshot)

TW/Warnings: Profanity, NOT POLY SATOSUGU X READER, Fem Reader and She/Her pronouns, ANGST, Angst for Satoru and Reader, Bittersweet ending for Suguru and Reader, HIGHKEY MISCOMMUNICATION, Possible OOC Satoru, abandonment issues if you squint really hard, Reader slowly losing herself, Reader feeling depression/hopeless(implicit), Reader's has a healthy dynamic with her clan

Series: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Fem!Reader/Suguru Geto x Fem!Reader

AU: Canon

Pronouns: She/Her(Reader's clan has a unrealistic healthy and understanding relationship with her)

Word Count: 6.1k words

Summary: Gojo's lack of coping caused you to drift away and eventually depart after Suguru's defection from Jujutsu Society.

(A/N): I know it doesn't make sense and will make many frustrated with how dumb this is. I just wanted to write my emotions out with this one, okay? I know this wouldn't slide but I'm a sucker for these scenarios. Edit: Since I've been getting positive reactions from you guys, I decided to take out the cringe/unrealistic out of the warning/tws lists. I truly love and appreciate you, loves!❤️

[!!Semi-edited & Proofread!!! 2/8/2024 4:04pm CST]

It was hard on all of you.

More so for you and Satoru.

Ever since Geto’s massacre and defection, the higher-ups and Jujutsu society have been scrambling to get the chaos under control. Having a special grade user become a curse user was sounding red alarms as there was an immediate threat to present-day Jujutsu sorcery.

You knew something was up with Suguru. You did; your observation wouldn’t allow things to go unnoticed. It was a bit here and there, but never a significant concern. You tried coaxing him gradually to open up to you, but your efforts were fruitless. No bells were ringing until the post-Plasma Star Vessel incident. You felt the shift in Suguru’s aura; you noticed his lifeless stare—the growing dark circles around his eyes surrounding the tiny flicker of life left inside.

You tried being there for Suguru. You did anything and everything to accompany him and not leave him alone. It was selfish of you. To be desperate for your best friend to lean on you for support and not to go down a destructive path. You became even more worried when Haibara returned cold with a frustrated and traumatized Nanami. It was becoming more evident of Suguru’s deteriorating condition, you to confide in Shoko and even Yaga-sensei.

Grief is like love, a twisted parasitic curse. Even though a year has passed, your grief was a malevolent spirit that latched itself onto your shoulders with a vice grip. A bitter reminder of how Suguru never said goodbye to you. He technically did with Satoru. But it was more of him telling Satoru that he was severing ties with Jujutsu Society by questioning him with his newfound powers. All you got from Suguru was a simple letter Shoko gave you at your dorm. She was with you as you read it. Tear droplets stained the paper, words smeared, and became unreadable. Out of pure frustration, you ripped the paper in half—the tearing of paper cut through the sickening silence. Shoko hugged you as you sobbed in the aftermath. While you were mourning the loss of your friend and your lives together, you were also mourning your life after this would never be the same. It would only get worse from here.

Satoru is tossed onto multiple missions left and right, never catching a break.

And there was you, trying to return to your regular school life. Or how every day can it be now? One of your best friends just murdered an entire village and his parents, and the other one is overworking himself to the very bone. Shoko being there for you was a surprising one, but at the same time, it wasn’t. Given that she was the first one Suguru said goodbye to, she understood his actions.

The problem was trying to tell Satoru about it, but he would brush it off, saying that maybe it was the change in weather or sickness. When you tried to explain there was more to it, Satoru would wave his hand at you, saying,

“You’re overthinking too much, (Y/N)-chan! I’m sure Suguru is fine. We just have to give him some time.”

Though the tone was light-hearted, it provided no comfort. You know Satoru was suffering as well. Individuals process trauma differently, after all. You were seeing this first hand.

Satoru was overcompensating to the world of Jujutsu with his enlightenment, overworking himself and burying his pain through that charismatic mask he now dons. Suguru is the most common one: Insomnia, isolation, and depression. He slowly became a lifeless husk. On the other hand, you were coping by trying to move forward while acting like a rock for them. Despite the hard transition, you didn’t deny your trauma as you slowly worked to process and navigate through it. You had the support of Shoko, your teacher, and even your clan/family stepped in to support your mental health endeavors. They went as far as providing you with a therapist, who was also a sorcerer.

But you all were suffering in silence.

A year has passed since Suguru left, and you were getting by. You, Shoko, and Satoru would graduate in the third year and officially become Jujutsu Sorcerers. Yet, at this point, it felt more like only you and Shoko. Satoru still attended class and hung out, but missions mainly preoccupied his school life. He recently returned from Hokkaido, only to be sent out again. This time, however, it was somewhere in Western Europe. That’s on the other side of the world. It would only be for a week, but still. You wanted him to rest or take a break, as he never did– not since the incident.

He wouldn’t be leaving for another seven days, so you had enough time to be with him. Yet it was challenging because Satoru didn’t let up. The ravine he created kept opening, the distance stretching far and deep, pushing you away.

Just like Suguru.

You didn’t want to lose Satoru. You almost did, becoming a grim reminder of how much you cared for Satoru Suguru. To fall for your best friend was a betrayal. You didn’t mean it, but Satoru did things that made your heart warm and fluttered. Suguru was the first to catch on; he saw your crush a mile away. Confiding in Suguru about it, you found solace in his words– feeding into an enviable delusion.

Unbeknownst to you, Suguru's eyes were able to hide his longing for you as you rambled about Satoru and your latest hangout together. Suguru always thought you and Satoru had a special connection—your two powerful chemistry and how you bounce off each other. He presumed Satoru had mutual feelings, but nothing was said. Once he left, he knew you had his heart. There was no space for anyone else to fill it but you. And Suguru was more than willing to live with reality. If the girl who gave his life light is with his best friend, so be it. He would settle with the heartache as long as you were happy.

But you weren’t happy at all.

Over time, you started questioning whether the life of a Jujutsu Sorcerer was worth it. Yes, you were born into the world of Jujutsu, and it has been your whole life. But the last two years radically changed that. You were already exposed to this life's dangers and cruelty; prepare to face it head-on no matter what. Yet second thoughts became third thoughts. Then, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh. The more you challenge your initial mindset, the more doubts seep into its cracks.

Why should I continue when I am nothing more than a placeholder in this world?

How can I save everyone if I can’t save one person?

Where is the meaning in all of this if I’ll just die alone and be replaced and forgotten?

Was this endless cycle of Jujutsu Sorcery even worth it?

You wondered if Suguru shared the same thoughts to push him to his decision. Now, you don’t blame him for leaving at all. It was grime. It was depravity. It was futile. You only stayed because you had your clan. You had Yaga-sensei and Shoko. But most of all, you had Satoru to shoulder the burdens of the Jujutsu world.

That’s. . .what you thought. . .

You decided to go to Satoru’s dorm to check up on him. Maybe squeeze a hangout in there. Gently knocking, you hope he was there since you couldn’t sense him around the campus. There was faint shuffling on the other side, signaling he was. You softly call out to him as you knock again. Once opened, Satoru greeted you in his school uniform. You found it odd since he’d switched to his comfortable clothes after school hours.

“Hi, Toru! I just came by to see how you’re doing. The mochi store we always go to releases its seasonal flavors today! Why don’t you come with me? I heard one of your favorites returned, so I didn’t want you to miss it.”

“I appreciate the thought, (Y/N). But not today, I’m sorry.” Satoru said with a smile.

You couldn’t pinpoint his smile, tittering on, sad and strained. A tinge of uneasiness settled inside your heart, but you still wore your smile to not let it surface.

“C’mon, Toru! You don’t know if they will sell out today. Plus, the weather is great. I heard some festivals with food stands are opening up because of that. It wouldn’t hurt to go out just this once, Satoru.”

Satoru’s smile disappears at your insistence, replacing it with a fine line. His mood change didn’t sit well with you. You had previous attempts to get Satoru to care for himself. However, this is different from all your others because the band that holds your desperation began to wane itself thin. Your solid composure falters in bits. Your bright aura slowly dimmed as your now chapped lips twitched.

“Satoru, I know that you’re busy. Always on missions, meeting the higher-ups, your clan needing you more than ever, you have your hands tied. But it wouldn’t be too much just to enjoy yourself. Just come with me today before you go to Europe next week. It’s been a while since we hung out together.”

“Look (Y/N), I don’t really have time for this. I need to head out now, or it will get dark. Maybe another time–”

Then something inside of you snaps. You didn’t know whether it was your desperation or uneasiness, but assumed both because your facade crumbles to reveal your emotions.

“You always say later, Satoru, but never do! You haven’t taken a break in months! You’ve gotten paler, and your under-eyes are darker than before! You’re pushing yourself too hard and beginning to neglect yourself. Toru, Please! I’m worried about you! You know I can always help you–”

“For the love of God, (Y/N)! Can you STOP TALKING?! GOD, YOUR VOICE MAKES MY EARS BLEED! LIKE HELL YOU WOULD UNDERSTAND MY RESPONSIBILITIES!”

It was never your intention to snap. But the way Satoru was acting paralleled Suguru. Eat, sleep, and go on missions. It was always those three, the same ones Suguru was subjected to that became a factor in his defection. Satoru was caught in the vicious cycle that pushed Suguru over the edge.

On top of your crippling fear of Satoru sharing the same fate as Suguru, Déjà vu struck you. Desperation emerged from within as you didn’t want to lose him, breaking your resolve before him. Desperation was fear in another form.

You weren’t the only one to reach a breaking point. Satoru snapped as well and at you, of all people. You guessed it was from all the stress and emotions he bottled up that exploded there. What Satoru was experiencing was valid and understandable; you knew this. Yet to blow up at you was uncalled for as you made it clear you’re only helping. Your eyes sting as you feel the formation of tears ready themselves, biting the inside of your bottom lip to keep your voice from breaking.

“B-but. . .Satoru. . .I w-was only trying to–” You stuttered out, forcibly pushing out words to fill the silence.

“Help? You were trying to help, (Y/N)?”

Once saying that Satoru let out a sarcastic laughter that could be mistaken for madness. Horror took over your face. Pain-filled eyes were glossed over, showing your tears could spill at any moment. His laughter abruptly stopped, making it so quiet that only your staggered breathing could be heard. He meets his eyes with yours with the most disdain you have ever seen.

“Do you think you could help when you’re just dead weight? You thought you were on par with Suguru and me. Get that out of your stupid little head of yours (Y/N). You were never strong like us.”

“You don’t mean that, right, Satoru?” You said incredulity as you reached out for him. Only for your hand to freeze before him, not going any further. A chill flashed over you, adding to the aching that enveloped your soul.

Did he– Did he just use his infinity on you?

“Oh, but I do. Now, I need to be somewhere. Do yourself a favor, (Y/N), and don’t bother me with your weak presence.”

And before you knew it, Satoru was already gone. He had used his teleportation to get to where he was needed. Leaving you alone with the door to his dorm wide open. The sounds of the crickets took over. They were paired with your small sniffles, furiously wiping away your nonstop tears.

Were you weak to him?

Have you really been holding everyone back?

Were you that much of a nuisance to him?

Is this how Satoru really felt about you?

Has he always felt this way?

You never saw utter detest and contempt from Satoru. Your previous interactions had him irritated or annoyed, but never like this. This was the first time Satoru had blown up on you, let alone given you such a reaction. Before, you’d repeatedly remind him of your support and help. But it always ends the same way, pushing you away. After what happened, this will be the last time you’d do this for him.

You were once told that you can’t help someone if they aren’t reaching out for help. And this was a bitter example of it. Your efforts in having Satoru lean on you bore nothing. What’s the point in continuing this if nothing changes after multiple attempts?

You were tired, drained, and indifferent. Your tears keep falling as you enter your dorm, not even stopping as the sound of nature lulls you to sleep.

You let two days pass to let Satoru calm down and give him space. No interactions or anything to pass some time. You would try to contact him for the next four days after that. But your texts were left unanswered and on read. When you tried calling, your call went straight to voicemail. He blocked your phone number, too.

The weight of your doubts and Satoru’s words the other day are fueling your impulsivity. If Satoru called you weak and dead weight, other sorcerers would think so, too. If you become a thorn in their side, you’re doing them a favor by pulling yourself out for them. Even if Satoru didn’t mean it, you knew there was some truth to it because he kept his infinity up. You could never forget how his blue eyes lit through his pitch-dark glasses as he spoke down at you. Giving away that he was conscious and level-headed when he said those words.

You were losing the war against your intrusive mind. Your doubts and thoughts gradually solidified in your consciousness. In the course of time, they won and consumed your psyche.

If becoming a jujutsu sorcerer would get in the way of others, then being a sorcerer wasn’t for you.

With your last attempts to contact Satoru, you have made your decision. A day before Satoru departs for Europe, you decide to pay your clan head a visit. It was sudden and unannounced; nonetheless, they allowed an audience with you.

They let you speak your mind, allowing whatever you need to be released and run free without judgment. Thus, you confided in them about everything.

This was too much; all of it was too much for you to bear any longer. You couldn’t see yourself as a sorcerer any longer after dealing with what you had experienced. Every day was a battle for you, and you lost every single one. You admitted you didn’t have what’s left of you it in you to shoulder the responsibilities of the Jujutsu world. You didn’t want the life of a jujutsu sorcerer anymore. You wanted one of peace, not having to fight every day. To enjoy the rest of your days as a regular civilian.

Confiding also in missing Suguru dearly and how his departure left a hole in your heart that could never be healed. You weren’t strong enough to face the horrors and hardships anymore and wish to live a peaceful life.

Although your clan head was shocked at your confession, they were understanding and asked if this was something you truly wanted. An unwavering ‘Yes’ left you, and your clan head nodded. They gave you a choice: to go after graduation in a few weeks or leave now. If you leave now, they will deal with the rest as you finish the important schoolwork. It was just a waiting game with missions sprinkled throughout.

You could wait before leaving, but that’s wasting time. If you weren’t going to continue your life here, you might as well get a headstart now in your new one. You finalize your decision with the head. They said they would have some members pick up your stuff from your dorms tomorrow morning, but you said it wouldn’t be much. As you took your leave, you told them you would keep in touch with the clan.

“What are your plans for what happens next, (Y/N)?” They curiously asked with your back facing them.

“Hmm, I don’t know exactly. But I have an idea, (Clan Head’s Name). Thank you for everything that you’ve done.”

With a reassuring voice, you turn to respectfully bow before leaving their room. Though they never said it out loud, they saw how your eyes were soft, like tremendous pressure was relieved from your body.

Thinking about it as you leave the estate, you never mentioned your fight with Satoru. Though it wouldn’t change anything. That night, you packed your dorm in your suitcase. Only leave your bedsheets, a pillow, and a few desk appliances behind. Your closet and drawers were empty of any clothes you had. By 10 a.m. tomorrow, any trace left of you would be gone. As you write a letter to whoever finds it about your whereabouts, your thoughts return to Suguru. To playfully think he did the exact same thing before his defection.

You looked at your school uniform as it hung on your door. You contemplated taking it with you but decided against it. You wanted no strings left attached when you leave the world of Jujutsu Sorcery.

Morning came as you stared at the room you once called your own. The remainder of your things are packed in cardboard boxes for your clan members to get later. You glance back over to your desk as your school uniform is neatly folded on top of it. Your lips are graced with a sentimental smile as you close the door one last time.

As you walked along the campus, fleeting memories of your days here flooded your mind. You reminisced on the areas and places you spent your youth with your friends and classmates. Now you’re leaving Jujutsu Tech and the Jujutsu World forever. Never to come back. You get to the main entrance of the school.

Before taking another step, you sensed someone behind you.

“So you're leaving, too, (Y/N)?”

It was Shoko.

“Yeah. . . Shoko. I’m going. . .”

She blows out a large smoke cloud from her cigarette, giving you a blank look before sending you a smile.

“At least say goodbye to me. . .I don’t blame you for going. . .” Shoko adds as she holds out her arms. You chuckle at her gesture and give her a hug. By the slight firm grip you felt, she didn’t want you to go, but she couldn’t stop you either.

Once you break away from the hug, you remember something and fish out a folded paper in your bag. You handed it to Shoko, and she eyed it curiously.

“I was going to leave it in my dorm for someone to find, but I thought it would work better if I gave this to you if I ran into it on my way out. My clan is sending members to get the last of my things, so I won’t return to my dorm. Sorry I had to make you the messenger again, Shoko.” You bittersweetly said.

You find it ironic that your departure is similar to Suguru’s. Shoko is the first to see you two go while giving her a letter for the others to read. You laugh as you think this over.

Oh, how history repeats itself.

Shoko tucks away your letter before taking a drag from her smoke.

“Does he know about this?”

You knew she was referring to Satoru. You shook your head no, still have a small smile.

“No, unfortunately. Satoru and I got into a arg– disagreement a few days ago. I don’t know if he’s okay with me to begin with, as cowardly to say. The only ones that know are you and my clan head.”

She hums at your response before going for another drag.

“Your phone number still the same?”

“I don’t really plan on changing my phone number. Even if I do, I’ll text you the new number so you can give it to the others.”

“I see. . .See you around, (Y/N). Keep in touch, will ya?”

“I will. I’ll see you around then. Bye, Shoko.”

Giving Shoko one last hug, you wave goodbye as you leave Jujutsu’s High entrance, disappearing from view. Not daring to look back because regret might come if you did.

Shoko watches from afar, her cigarette being halfway done. She takes one last puff before extinguishing it with the bottom of her shoe. She looks at your letter. The paper was crisp with no wrinkles like it had been fresh from the printer. From this, Shoko knew you had written it recently, no hesitation evident on the page itself. Unlike Suguru’s, her fingers tighten on your letter as she sighs while entering the school.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

“What brings you here? He’s a busy man.”

“I’m just an old acquaintance of his. Just a simple chat. It won’t take long, I promise.”

The pretty attendant raises a brow at you as she guides you to one of the rooms. She looks you up and down before facing forward again.

“You have a substantial amount of curse energy. You have a curse technique then; aren’t you a jujutsu sorcerer?”

“I…used to be…but not anymore…I chose to leave that life. I’m just a civilian that has a curse technique.”

You see the attendant smile out of the corner of your eye at your answer.

“I see. Geto-sama will be happy to take audience with you then.”

You shouldn’t be here. You knew that. Walking in taboo territory could get you hunted down by the very society you were born into. It’s not a secret of Suguru’s position as both a curse user and a cult leader. You remember hearing about him reforming a cult that worshiped Tengan but dissolved after the incident. You found it interesting he hasn’t done collateral damage yet. No incidents or missions revolving around curses terrorizing civilians. Perhaps he was going for something on a larger scale, you thought.

But you missed Suguru dearly. Not in a sentimental reminiscing way. More as in yearning for him entirely. Everyone tells you it’s not the same with Suguru gone, obviously. Yeah, but Suguru plagued your mind after his defection. You want nothing more than to see him again. Yes, things couldn’t go back to the way they were. But you didn’t like the prospects of what your future would hold if you stayed.

You disagreed with Suguru ridding the world of non-sorcerers. But you also understand and agree the current Jujutsu system is a dumpster fire that will never work. At the end of the day, only those the higher-ups favor will get to stay while the rest are sent off to die. You didn’t want to take part in that. You valued your life to know it shouldn’t be tossed around so easily by some dementia geezers who can’t even fight. And yet, you felt a tinge of regret for not staying to fix or break the system. Your only option was to leave and not involve yourself anymore.

The attendant takes you to the room, saying he will arrive shortly. Leaving you alone, you felt your heart race. You hope Suguru doesn’t kill you because he can sense your curse energy. Yet his letter was heartfelt and raw. His apology and the paragraphs after them were for you and you alone, like a confession. Even though you ripped the letter, you keep the two halves. Strangely enough, there was an address and a few words at the bottom of the page.

‘You know where to find me.’

Here you are, waiting for him with the same letter he sent. As you wait, you can feel his energy get closer. You stare down, kneeling, the letter shaking like a leaf in your hands.

Then the door opens.

You let out a small gasp, not daring to look up as the footsteps approach his seat. A soft chuckle fills the room as you keep your head low.

“I thought I was mistaken when I felt your curse energy. But I now know my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me. Please, lift your head so I can see you (Y/N).”

Your gaze meets Suguru’s soft eyes and warm smile. Both genuine and kind. His eyes widen before returning back to soft when he sees the tears trickling down for your lovely eyes he could get lost in. You stumble to stand, practically pouncing at Suguru. His embrace was like gates opening for you and closing once you entered. You softly sob into his robes as he holds you tightly. Comforting you by gently rubbing your back and hair, giving a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“I missed you so much, Suguru!” was all you said before you continued to sniffle and hiccup into him.

Suguru hums as he pulls away to better view your face. You felt self-conscious as he lovingly gazed at you. Your nose and cheeks were raw from crying, and your eyes became an irritated red. Suguru smiles, wiping away your endless tears with his thumb.

“Oh, (Y/N). I’m sorry for leaving you behind. You understand, don’t you? From my letter?”

You nodded to respond. Holding the paper in front of Suguru. He notices the tear stains and ink smudges from the words he wrote down.

“I would’ve told you in person, (Y/N). Believe me. But I couldn't once they announced my charges. You would’ve been questioned as a possible accomplice. I didn’t want that for you. Do you know what it means for you to see me now?”

“Yes, I’m aware. But I left of my own accord; it wasn’t just for you, Suguru. I wouldn’t be able to last long if I stayed. So I decided to go, leaving it behind, all of it.”

He was a bit puzzled by what you meant. But it didn’t take long for him to piece it himself. Suguru figured something happened between you and Satoru but decided to stay silent out of respect. You both stare with relief and tenderness. Suguru gingerly takes your hand and places a light kiss on your knuckles. You set your unoccupied hand on his cheek, quietly giggling as Suguru leans into your delicate touch. He sighed in contentment. Bring your hand up again to kiss it as he wraps his free arm around your waist. His sincere smile radiates down onto you.

“I guess we have some catching up to do then, (Y/N).”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Satoru was in a better mood today than before.

Satoru cooled off his head after a couple of days from when he made that outburst at you. He was stressed and tired of being continuously sent out on missions, and you did make a point that he hasn’t taken a break in months. He remembered what he said to you that evening, which made him feel guilty.

He knows he hasn’t been around because the higher-ups have sent him out like a work dog. It was now you and Shoko with him. The stabilization you two had on him once Suguru left.

You’ve been only trying to help him for a long time. Being there for him in your own way while coaxing him to hang out. Yet he took it for granted and said some vile things because his bucket decided to overflow then out of all the times it shouldn’t. You didn’t deserve that. You also didn’t deserve the silent treatment he gave you. He saw your text messages and listened to the voicemails you left. He did not answer because he was too prideful and stubborn to admit he was stressed and hurt you like that.

But sitting with his emotions and reflecting on how stupid he is for prioritizing his ego, he decided to cut down his pride and make it up to you. He unblocked your number and was going to call you. But he chose to just surprise you instead he chickened out. Satoru knew the European mission was a nuisance to his plans, so he had already taken care of it. By that, Satoru somehow teleported himself to where he needed to be in Europe, slayed the high-level curses, retrieved some curse objects, reported what he did, and teleported back to Japan in four hours.

He did all this at the last minute on the sixth day before Satoru was supposed to leave. He did this to stay and spend the whole week with you, make up for lost time, and give a proper apology.

Now, Satoru was strolling through Jujutsu Tech. He whistles as he holds a bouquet of (favorite flowers), a box with a (favorite color) bracelet with (favorite designs/charms), and a bag of mochi and daifuku for you two to share together. He walks around the grounds, trying to search you. He was told no classes today, so he went to your favorite spots. You weren’t anywhere.

‘Huh, that’s strange. (Y/N) would usually be in those places when class is not in session. I wonder where she could be.’

Satoru thought about dropping by your dorm but figured you were with Shoko. On the other hand, he couldn’t sense Shoko around either until Satoru felt it alongside Yaga-sensei. He sensed them in Yaga’s building, so he headed there.

Blissfully unaware of what would await him.

Satoru clutches your gifts to one side as he opens the door to enter. His six eyes hadn’t kicked in yet, but something in the air felt off. His sun smile hasn’t dropped yet as he scans around, wondering why the two were quiet when he entered.

“Yo, Yaga-sensei, Shoko! I’ve been trying to look for you guys. By any chance know where (Y/N) is so I can give these to her?”

He looks at his teacher, and Satoru’s demeanor instantly changes. There, Yaga stood with his glasses off, clutching a piece of paper with a stern frown. Satoru turns to Shoko, a somber expression replacing her lighthearted one. Satoru just looked back and forth between the two before his eyes settled on the paper in his teacher’s hand. Satoru stands stunned, hearing his heartbeat in his ears grow louder and louder. The air from his lungs disappeared as realization dawned on him.

Satoru clenched his teeth as he teleported to your dorm room, the clap resonating throughout the hall. He burst open your dorm door, and to his horror, your room was empty. The room was stripped of everything that made it yours. The closet and drawers were emptied, and your desk and bed were bare of anything from you. What used to be your dorm is now an empty dorm room, ready for the next person to claim it. He frantically looks around in hopes of finding any reminds of you.

Then, he spotted your old Jujutsu High uniform, laying neatly on top of your old desk. Satoru just stares, not daring to pick it up. Because if he did, he would’ve broken down. He can’t stay there anymore, to which he teleports back. He bears his pearly white teeth as he closes in on his teacher.

“Where the hell is (Y/N)?” Satoru lowly said.

“Gone, Satoru–”

“I know she’s gone! But where?! Why the hell is all her stuff gone?! Her room is completely empty!”

“Satoru,” Yaga tried calmly speaking, but he was clearly frustrated. “I know this is so sudden. But the (L/N)’s clan head said something came up with (Y/N), and they retrieved all her things. Her clan said they were going to deal with everything else.”

Satoru's breathing became staggered. He could hear it growing louder. He tried his best not to let his voice crack, but that made him angrier.

“Everything else? The hell does that mean, sensei? Why would the (L/N) clan withdraw (Y/N) from school?! School ends in a few weeks! She could have graduated with us!”

“It…wasn’t their decision, Satoru…It was (Y/N)’s…”

Suddenly, Satoru became flabbergasted. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This gotta be some twisted, cruel joke that was playing on him. His curse energy was flaring up, and his cerulean eyes lit lightly. The flowers from the bouquet were losing their petals, and his bag full of treats was getting smushed from his intense grip.

“What…?”

“The clan head said it themselves.”

“No…”

“She decided not to be a Jujutsu Sorcerer and leave Jujutsu society.”

“LIKE HELL SHE WOULD!!!” Just like that, everything came crashing down for Satoru. Not being in your usual spots on campus, the empty dorm; hell, he noticed your curse residuals becoming faint. The traces of them becoming weaker and weaker. Your presence here in Jujutsu High was fading faster than he could notice. The anger he built up showed itself as it was on full display. Honestly, Yaga and Shoko don’t blame him for his outburst. Satoru held you close, after all.

“Satoru, please.” Yaga pinches the bridge of his nose as he clenches his teeth. “I’m just as lost as you are. This came out of the blue…Her clan confirmed it, and she said it herself.”

Satoru slightly flinches when Yaga holds the paper out towards him. Gesturing for Satoru to take it.

“I didn’t read far into this because it felt like (Y/N) wanted someone else to read it.”

Satoru’s long fingers snatched the paper out of his teacher’s hands. His hands shake as he opens the paper up to see its contents.

It was a letter–from you.

His eyes slowly followed the words of your neatly written goodbye. His heart rips itself piece by piece as he continues reading. The guilt and shaming grew. He could feel the fatigue and jadedness from your thoughts. But the last paragraph makes Satoru’s heart hurt the worst. Your frustration was transformed into desperation for a new life, a fresh start. Away from the endless curses and scrutiny of the higher-ups, away from the pain and hopelessness, away from it all. You didn’t want to throw your life away. You just wanted to live. Then, you end the letter with an apology. Saying sorry because you couldn’t tell them your honest thoughts, for not facing them in your departure, for not trying hard enough for everyone when it was needed. Then, the last line of your apology made Satoru’s blood run cold.

‘Most of all, I’m sorry for being weak.’

He knew that line was for him 100 percent. You wouldn’t have written it down if he didn’t tell you. To Satoru, you weren’t supposed to be the one apologizing. It should be him. He was the one who yelled at you and said those cruel and discouraging things to you. The one who pushed you away and didn’t allow you a chance to help. Fuck, he had the audacity to use his infinity against you. How dare he do that to you, his best friend the girl he fell in love with. His teeth clenched so hard out of pure anger they could crack. The anger he felt for himself was tremendous. He was angry at Suguru, the higher-ups, and Jujutsu Society. Angry at himself for being so stubborn and prideful, for waiting too long to act and apologize. But above all else, he was angry at what had become of the situation. Fully knowing he could do nothing to change anything as already was set in stone.

If he hadn’t been so prideful, he would’ve apologized to you sooner. If he didn’t blow up at you, you wouldn't become broken and hurt. If only he didn’t push you away, maybe you would have stayed– stayed by his side. But ‘if onlys’ are regrets from the past of the current reality. Now, he is living in it with the consequences of his own actions.

This is the price Satoru had to pay. He lost the only remnant that got him through this world by pushing you away. He lost his only two best friends in the world with no way of fixing it.

The price of becoming the strongest came at the expense of two of his most dearest friends.

Suguru was gone.

You were gone.

Forever with no signs of ever coming back to him.

In the end, Satoru Gojo was, truly, alone.

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gaias-space · 2 years

Text

I’ll carry your heart forever Munson ❤️

Steddie! Oneshot/headcannon

Plot- { Steve never got over Eddie’s death from the bats in the upside down. this is just a sad Headcannon of his grief. Im sorry ! <3 it’s sad Boi hours in here.}

TW- this does have a lot of depressing content no S/H is involved but just a lot of sad breakdowns and some drug use so please if this will trigger you I advise you don’t read ❤️

Ps- this was a random burst of inspiration I’m sorry for the delay in the loki series (it is coming my loves 💚)

“Dustin…where is Eddie?” He watched as Dustin’s exhausted body stumbles to them. Tears endlessly falling from his puffy red eyes. “DUSTIN HENDERSON WHERE THE HELL IS HE?” He chokes. Tears full in Steve’s eyes, his fists punching the wall beside him. “Dus-“ he couldn’t finish his voice squeaked and shattered. He’s…he’s gone steve….i couldn’t save him he-“ nothing else mattered. He was gone. Dustin’s voice was now a echo. Steve fell to his knees. “God damn it munson! Why did you try and be a hero! No no no no! This isn’t true I-“ the sounds of his friends crying behind him were too far for him to notice. His heart ached. “No this isn’t true this isn’t real fuck!” Tears pooled from his eyes, Steve gripped his chest feeling his breathing shortening. “I have to find him!” Steve doesn’t remember the way he ran screaming, Robyn and Nancy holding him back. His screams were heartbreaking, a sound that was left with them for months. “Steve we have to go!”.

He’s gone. Eddie was gone. That memory continuously played through Steve’s mind. After the battle with vecna Steve found himself walking…with no intention on where just walk and walk. Maybe he would get hit by a train, or eaten by a wolf, better yet vecna could come back and take him. Nothing mattered. And he found himself somewhere familiar. His wet and swollen eyes look up at Eddie’s trailer, damaged and defeated. And every night since he stayed there. He lied to his friends, they all thought he was okay and away on a trip or checking out colleges around the state. But there he was every day. He loved eddie the second he seen him. Even with a bottle to his throat he knew eddie and him had something special. He would sleep in Eddie’s vest every night, hold His pillow close and inhale his scent. And he wasn’t ready for the day the scent disappeared. His trailer was rotting away, and it felt just right for Steve. He wanted to rot away with it. “Eddie …why did you leave me…why did you go? Please I need you”. He cried out. Memories would flash through his head every night the ones that made him fall in love harder and harder for that freak metal head munson. The way eddie called him “big boy” and shared that cheeky little smile. Or when eddie gave Steve a ring to keep forever. “I dunno man…I just want you to have it. Don’t make a big deal about it” said a shy and flustered eddie. “I want you to remember me…that’s all”. It was a metal ring with a engraved corroded coffin logo made by yours truly. It meant the world to Steve. He remembered the way Eddie’s eyes lit up whenever Steve asked aboit D&D or his band. His puppy brown eyes would buldge and glisten in the light. There lye steve curled in a ball holding onto any piece he had of Eddie. Playing records of Eddie’s favourites, wearing his hellfire shirt no matter how dirty it got.

The ache in his chest was like no other. He couldn’t imagine another second without Eddie. “Oh Ed’s I can’t do this on my own. I can’t I can’t do this. Please please come back to me.” He screamed. Steve lived in Eddie’s trailer for months, he dusted every picture and every item protecting it like his life depended on it. Eddie’s memory would never die as long as Steve lives. Steve lied to everyone every call or tect he’d made an excuse, on the odd occasion he would hang out with Dustin and his friends he would fake a smile. And once his feet stepped into the trailer yard he’d fall apart again. “I don’t know how to do this without you eddie. Can you hear me? God I don’t even know if you can…but please I’d you can hear me …I need you. I really fucking need you man. Why couldn’t it have been me?!” Steves grieving was emotional he’d throw and break things {unless it was Eddie’s items of course}, he would cry himself to sleep to their favourite songs, and not eat for weeks. Anger, sadness, denial, and anger again. He’d always remember the way Eddie would smile with that cheeky grin of his, the way his curly hair got stuck to his forehead when he sweat. And of course, Steve would always wipe it away. He never felt so safe with anyone but Eddie. He remembered a night when he was freaking out about fighting demobats, and Eddie just held him in his arms. “Shh Stevie boy your gonna be okay. Your so badass! I’ve never met anyone who inspired me more than you do.” Eddie tilted Steve’s chin and they locked eyes. God those sweet brown eyes always made Steve melt. He couldn’t deny he had feelings. every touch, every scent, every sound of Eddie’s made Steve blush, melt, and fall in love.

It was another night of Steve throwing pillows and screaming “Why!? i hate you eddie my son! I hate you I hate you…” his voice creaked and locked up. “I…I love you. I’m all alone eddie. I’m alone…you were my person…” Steves eyes drifted to a small cabinet he left untouched. He knew was was in there and dare he do it? Fuck it. He thought. He lit the tightly rolled paper and for the first time he smoked Eddie’s special greens. This is what he needed. For the first time in months he felt a sense of relief. But he kept mumbling for hours until he passed out. “Eddie …edddie…your fucking smile man…who’s going t-to hold me wh-when I cry? Who will kiss me against the wall? Who…fuck I need you. I always did. And I’m sorry I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you…please forgive me…I hate myself…I hate ..”

And he drifted. A week went by and Robyn dragged him out of the house with Nancy. Steve felt a heavy weight in his gut, he wasn’t ready for where they were taking him. “Steve please… you need this. We will give you some space”. He was at the grave they created for Eddie. They never got to retrieve the body. Which made Steves heart ache even more. He fell to his knees the gut wrenching pain coming back all over again. “Why am I here?” He cried to himself. “This isn’t going to fucking do anything Robyn! Nancy I can’t believe you dragged me out here!” Nancy shared a sympathetic look as she sat with Steve. “Here…I think now or never is the best time for this… Dustin wanted you to have this..” she opened her palm and in her hand was Eddie’s favourite guitar pick. Dustin managed to take it when they were in the upside down. “Is that-E-Eddie’s..” Steves lips begin to tremble, he snatched it from her hand and held it close to him. All the thoughts appearing once again. He hasn’t noticed the girls slowly leaving back to the car. Tears pooling from his eyes “you were never the freak munson, you were never the bad guy. I m-miss you every single day. And …and I am so so angry at myself. Because I-I never th-thought I’d lose you. I thought I could tell you how I felt. But it was too late! I feel so guilty.” Steves body falls to the ground curling up beside the tombstone. “Fuck eddie I love you so much and I never got to tell you. And now I never will! I love you I love you I love you Edward munson. I can’t do this…I wish it was me! You deserved better. I’m just a stuck up rich asshole.” He could barley talk anymore his voice falling over each word. “And I don’t know if your safe..or if your being tortured by things in the upside down… or if you made it safely to the heavens! Fuck this isn’t even real. Eddie please come back to me baby. I love you”. A ball hits his throat, tears endlessly falling like waterfalls, his body shaking. He never got to tell Eddie he loved him, and now he is living in his own eternal hell.

“I promise as long as I live you will always be known as my hero, everyone’s hero! I’ll tell everyone about D&D being the most rad game out there, iron maiden has some of the greatest hits and NOONE can tell me different, and your right Ozzie is a real badass biting a bats head off! And that you were the love of my life.”

The tears dried now and Steve was numb. Hours had gone by he hadn’t even noticed the sun set. He sits up on his knees and kisses the cold tombstone. “Eddie…” he whispers. “I love you, I always will and I’m sorry”. As he begins to stand he felt a wave of cold hair brush his neck sending shivers down his spine. And he could of sworn he heard something.

“I know Steve…I know. I love you”.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie cult #eddie munson #stranger things 4 #Oneshot #headcannon #grieving #depression #Steve and Eddie #drabble #sad story

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arvandus · 3 years

Text

The Sound of Silence (18+ Aizawa x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Aizawa x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: After once again being stood up for a date at your favorite jazz club, you decide to give up dating entirely in favor of watching and fantasizing about your favorite jazz musician, Aizawa Shouta. You had assumed you’d never meet him face to face. You had assumed that he didn’t even know you existed. You’re about to learn that your assumptions are wrong.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY/NSFW; reader wears a sexy black dress (minimally described); minor sexual harassment; slow build; praise kink (if you squint); hand kink (probably); fingering; ‘baby’ petname.

Special Note: A few days late, but here’s my contribution to the BNHarem January Collab ‘Making Beautiful Music’ posted by @kingexpl0sionmurder. It was supposed to be a oneshot, but this particular piece got a mind of its own and will at least have a sequel. If we’re all really lucky, it may become a multichapter series in the far and distant future, when my life is less crazy (I have ideas, ok??). In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this fic!

Word Count: 9486

Recommended Song: No specific song at the moment, but this was what I listened to while writing this.

Lesson 1

It was crowded tonight, the air of the small club Midnight hot and heavy with the scent of cigar smoke and booze. The noise of conversations and laughing voices filled the air like the buzzing of a hive, as bodies mingled about like busy bees, each looking for their own bit of nectar. Some looking to win romance. Some looking to win money. While others were simply winning by enjoying the company of friends. Their movements were carried on the music that filled the space, upbeat jazz played by a three-person band. It was comforting in its familiarity, developed over multiple visits – some with friends, some with coworkers, and some with potential love interests.

You sat at the bar, a drink held protectively in your hand as your eyes searched. You checked your phone for messages but found none. It’d been a full twenty minutes and you were pretty sure by this point that your date wasn’t going to show up. It was supposed to be your first date in over a month, and you’d had high hopes for it - you’d clicked well with the person on your dating app (or so you thought), talking over the course of a couple of weeks before finally deciding to meet. So tonight, you’d put in a little extra effort into your appearance, donning a black dress that showed off your curves and putting careful attention into your makeup.

Damn. You were genuinely interested in this one.

You sent them a quick text in the hopes that you’d get a response. Give them an extra ten minutes… You thought. Maybe they were caught in traffic or something.

But by the time you hit the 45-minute mark with no messages, you’d officially given up. A half-hearted sigh fell past your painted lips. You weren’t really too surprised by this point. You’d been having terrible luck in the dating scene for a while now. Sometimes it was them. Sometimes it was you. But for whatever reason, each attempt ended in failure.

Oh well. It was likely for the best. At least you would be able to enjoy the rest of your evening in solitude instead of enduring a potentially disastrous date. And as for your attire, it certainly didn’t hurt to feel sexy, even if you had no one to share it with.

You loved this place. The atmosphere, the music… you’d even managed to make friends with the bartender Hizashi to the point that he’d walk you to your car on the nights that you stayed until closing.

Your eyes scanned around the room, observing. Wooden tables littered the main floor, where small lit candles cast yellow light on observing faces, eyes trained on the musicians. Booths lined along the far wall, filled mostly with men who puffed cigars over a game of cards, their raucous laughter carrying through the din. Closer to the bar was an arrangement of tall, round tables with matching bar height chairs. A group of women, likely on a ladies’ night out, filled the table closest to you, taking shots and laughing, their heels perched on the rungs. Waiters zigzagged their way through the crowd with expert precision, platters held high with drinks and snacks, while patrons milled about, waiting for an open table.

And, of course, there was the stage itself, where the jazz band finished their final piece before collecting their instruments and leaving the small stage. All that was left from their departure was a black baby grand piano, property of the club. Your pulse quickened as you checked your watch. Was it that time already?

Not a moment later, there he was. Long, black, wavy hair pulled back into a half ponytail, the hint of a 5 o’ clock shadow dusting his jawline and framing his lips. He was dressed in simple clothes, as always… a black v-neck shirt with the sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms and dark jeans. He entered the stage without so much a glance towards the busy room, instead making his way to the piano with his hands in his pockets. He sat down and from your position at the bar, you could barely see his long fingers arrange themselves at the keys, gently curled.

As soon as he began to play, the mood in the club shifted slightly from buzzing to relaxing. The flow of his fingers across the keys drew a lazy melody reminiscent of rainy days and hot coffee; of snuggling under warm blankets, feet intertwined with a lover who danced their fingers across your skin, gently tickling your flesh the way his fingers tickled those keys.

Aizawa Shouta.

Of course you knew his name. The first time you’d heard him play, you’d felt weightless, your body going numb as every sensation coalesced into your chest like the forming of a star. The question of his identity had fallen from your lips before you’d even realized it, and it had been Hizashi who’d answered you, a chuckle on his lips.

Fuck. It felt like he was making love to you through the notes, each key meticulously selected like a carefully-worded love letter. It made your palms sweat against your glass, your breath hitching in your throat as that familiar sensation took you over, holding you hostage.

This. This was probably why none of the people you dated ever seemed to work out. You’d tried… God, you’d tried… some of them were nice, good people. But you couldn’t help but search for that feeling – this feeling – each time you met someone new. And every single time it fell short. It was an impossible standard, an invisible bar that no one was able to jump. Deep down you knew this, yet you couldn’t figure out how to let it go. It was just music, right? Played by a handsome man who didn’t even know you existed. But you didn’t want to let go of this feeling, to settle for someone that made you feel only an inkling of what he made you feel. Or worse, to let it go and be left with emptiness.

You had no solutions. You were trapped in Aizawa’s maze of music, unwilling to find your way out as his notes weaved a cage around your heart.

You lost yourself to his melody, the club around you fading away. Time lost its meaning as you watched his hands dance along the keys, his fingers nimble. His half-lidded eyes were fixed on the instrument before him, his expression neutral. To anyone else watching, he would look almost bored; but you’d seen him play often enough that you’d grown accustomed to reading the nuances of his body language, even across the smoky haze. You knew his look of boredom was really a look of focus as he submerged himself in his art, his hands playing on instinct, a direct link between what he felt and what he expressed.

He loved what he did.

And you loved watching.

Hizashi’s voice interrupted your hypnosis. “Another night solo, huh?”

You took a look at the bartender as he prepped some cocktails for some waiting patrons. He had his wire-framed spectacles on again, the orange tinted ones, the color visible from the white backlight of the bar. His long blonde hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and he wore a pinstriped shirt adorned with a black waistcoat.

You chuckled and took a sip of your drink. “It wasn’t supposed to be.”

“You got stood up again?” You shrugged and Hizashi shook his head slightly. “If they ain’t willing to show up, then they ain’t worth your time.”

“Probably more like the other way around, don’t ya think?” you replied wryly.

Hizashi scoffed. “Don’t let them get to you. They don’t know what they’re missing.”

You grinned and set your glass down. “Are you flirting with me, Hizashi?”

He grinned back and winked at you through his spectacles. “Always, darlin’.”

You chuckled and returned your eyes to the stage. “It’s okay…” you said thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s time I stopped trying.”

“Mhm…” Hizashi watched you stare at Aizawa and he raised an eyebrow. “Y’know, I can get you an introduction if you’d like…”

“What??”

“Don’t play coy with me, darlin’. You know who I’m talking about. If you want to meet him, I can introduce you to him. We’re good friends, he and I. Known each other for years.” He commented.

You weren’t surprised by this news… you’d seen Aizawa join Hizashi at the bar on rare occasions after his performance was done. But you’d always been occupied at a table with company when it happened.

Watching him from a distance was one thing. But actually meeting him? Up close? Where you couldn’t hide your girlish infatuation?

You felt your pulse quicken with dread, heat flooding your body. “No, it’s okay. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience him.”

Hizashi gave you a skeptical look over the rim of his glasses before he shrugged. “Suit yourself, darlin’.”

The blonde stepped away, a new group of customers hollering for his attention. You took a large gulp of your drink hoping it would quell your nerves at the thought of meeting the man on stage. No. You definitely didn’t want to meet him. The last thing you needed was for your interaction with him to be a dud just like it was with all the others, destroying your own secret little fantasy. He was handsome to look at. And you fantasized about his skilled hands when you were in the quiet of your bedroom. But that was all it was; just harmless daydreams over someone you didn’t really know or plan to get to know. Besides, if you’d ever thought you had a chance with him, you certainly wouldn’t be trying to meet people through a dating app.

Gradually the time ticked by as you enjoyed watching the dark-haired man play, Hizashi stopping in to check on you from time to time and place fresh drinks in front of you. You were content for the time being, enjoying the steady buzz you were maintaining as you enjoyed the ambiance. Occasionally you people watched or engaged in conversation with Hizashi when he wasn’t busy… but for the most part, you relaxed as you observed the raven-haired pianist, letting his music ease the tension in your shoulders as the alcohol warmed your bones.

A few hours later, as you were busy talking with Hizashi, the final note on the piano rang out, signaling the end of Aizawa’s shift. The sudden silence hit you like a bucket of ice water, and your eyes darted towards the stage, your heart pumping panic through your veins. You had planned to leave just before his shift ended, just to make sure you didn’t run into him. Maybe it was the daydreaming, or the conversations with Hizashi, or the alcohol... but you’d lost track of time. Now you could only watch and wait to see where he’d end up, hoping beyond hope that he’d disappear like he usually did. Only rarely did he linger for a drink. What were the odds, right?

Tonight was one of those rarities, and you held your breath, your posture going rigid, as he sat himself a mere two seats away from you. He never once looked at you, instead, addressing Hizashi.

“Old Fashioned.” He requested, his voice deep. It sent a shiver down your spine as the blood in your veins turned molten. You knew instantly that that sound was now committed to memory.

“Do you even need to ask?” Hizashi replied with a grin as he slid the drink to him.

You disciplined your eyes to stare at your own drink as if it’d open up a portal for you to escape through. But as much as you struggled to control yourself, the simple gesture of Aizawa reaching for his drink made you break eye contact with your own. Your eyes caught how his fingers circled around his glass, long and surprisingly manicured. You couldn’t help but watch as he brought the drink up to his lips to take a sip, and from there your gaze followed the curve of his mouth, the stubble that framed it, his jawline, his eyes…

Your eyes made contact with his briefly and you quickly looked back down at your drink, your heart pounding in your chest.

Shit. He caught you staring.

You took a couple of deep swigs, forcing the alcohol down your tight throat, letting the burn of it act as a punishment for your violation. This. This was why you didn’t want to meet him. No words had even been shared yet and you were already making a fool of yourself.

“Long night?” Hizashi asked him. In the background, the next performer entered the stage and began to play, and you couldn’t help but strain your ears over the music to listen for Aizawa’s answer.

“I’ve had worse…” Aizawa replied. “You?”

“Busy, but I’m in good company at least.” Hizashi replied. Your heart pounded in your chest as your fingers tightened around your glass. Your eyes darted up to lock with the bartender’s and you caught him smirking at you, his small, pointed mustache following the curve of his upper lip.

He wouldn’t…

Suddenly another customer called for him from the other end of the bar. “Duty calls, friend. Be back in a sec.”

And just like that, you were left alone with him. Aizawa. Your mind froze as it warred with itself between actually talking with him or grabbing your things and running away. Surely Hizashi would understand, right? And you could always pay back your tab later. You took another deep gulp of alcohol in the hopes that it’d burn away some of your cowardice.

Before you could so much as open your mouth, the unwelcome sensation of an unfamiliar hand on the curve of your back made your body go rigid, every muscle poised to fight. A second later, the scent of hot breath laced in the stench of alcohol choked the air around you as an unfamiliar man slid into the open seat between you and the object of your affection.

“Hey there beautiful…” he slurred. “You’ve been by yourself all night… you in need of some company?”

You covered your hand over your glass and shifted away from him slightly, your demeanor cold. “No.”

“Aw, c’mon doll… don’t be like that…” he grinned. “You don’t come here dressed like that for no good reason…”

The man’s hand was still on your back, its presence making your skin crawl. It made the fog of your buzz lifting slightly, your senses suddenly heightened in the presence of a potential threat. Your eyes searched frantically for Hizashi. He had a way of handling drunken idiots. But he was stuck at the other end of the bar still, a drunk woman trying desperately hard to flirt with him.

You were on your own, and this creep clearly wasn’t taking no for an answer. Your brain started to fabricate worst-case scenarios and planning for them, a million options running through your mind. Screaming. Throwing your drink in his face. A well-placed kick to his shin. Your pepper spray.

Your free hand slipped into your purse, fingers closing around you’re the plastic cylinder. The feel of it gave you a sense of security, even if it might be a last resort. You didn’t really want to use it, especially with Aizawa sitting behind him… you never had to use it before, and you couldn’t guarantee your accuracy, especially in such a tight space.

You watched from the corner of your eye as the man’s free hand reached forward to grasp your own that covered your drink, and your grip around the cylinder tightened, a warning beginning to fall from your lips. But your words were cut short as the man’s hand was suddenly grabbed by familiar, long fingers and bent back at an uncomfortable angle that made the drunk cry out.

“Hey! What the hell?!” the man demanded.

Aizawa took a casual sip of his drink with his free hand while maintaining his grip on the offender, before pinning him with a dangerous glare. “She said no.”

The man’s hand left your back as he struggled to free himself from Aizawa’s grip. “Let go!”

“First you will apologize to her.” Aizawa ordered.

The man sputtered. “For what?!”

You watched in shock as Aizawa’s eyes narrowed. His thumb positioned itself on a digit and began pushing it slowly backward.

“For touching her without permission. For insinuating that her attire makes it acceptable for you to ignore her boundaries. For being a disgusting pig.”

With each statement, he pushed the finger back farther and farther, until the man was buckling to his knees under the pressure in an attempt to alleviate the pain and prevent the digit from breaking.

“Ow ow ow! Okay! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” The man begged.

Aizawa held him for a moment longer before finally releasing him. “Good. Now get out.”

The man scurried away until he was out of reach before turning around to glare daggers at him. “Hey, fuck you man!” He shouted. But for all of his drunken bravado, he stormed out of the club clutching his sore hand to his chest, as heads turned to watch him leave.

The hum of voices within the club fell silent for a moment, with only the band continuing their music. After the front door closed, the noise of people chattering slowly returned, countless sets of eyes turning back to their tables. Aizawa turned his gaze back to you, the lethal look gone from his dark eyes.

“You okay?”

You nodded mutely, swallowing the dryness in your throat as your sweaty hand released the pepper spray in your purse. Sensations warred within you, momentarily leaving you a confused mess. The speed at which he came to your defense and his willingness to resort to violence on your behalf fueled a carnal need you didn’t even realize you had. But even as hot arousal pooled deep in your gut, your heart still raced from the threat that had been quickly neutralized.

His eyes caught the movement of something over your shoulder and he cursed. “Shit.”

“SHOuTA!” Scolded a feminine voice.

He turned back to his drink, hunching his shoulders. “I told her not to call me that in public.” Aizawa muttered under his breath.

You spun on your stool to see the owner of the bar, Nemuri Kayama approaching, clad in a deep purple business suit with a dangerously low-cut black blouse. She was next to you in a matter of seconds, a cloud of strong perfume enveloping you as she snatched Aizawa’s drink from his hand as he began to raise it to his lips.

“What the hell was that?!” She demanded. “What makes you think you can attack my customers like that?”

“Your customer was harassing this customer.” Aizawa pointed out.

Nemuri looked at you with her lavender eyes as if seeing you for this first time and paused in her verbal assault.

“Is this true?” She asked you.

She had a presence about her that instantly made you find your voice again.

“He was being handsy and wasn’t taking no for an answer.” You confirmed.

“Can I have my drink back now?” Aizawa asked.

She stared back and forth between the two of you for a moment before slamming the glass down in front of him, half of the contents spilling over the side. “Ugh. Fine. But next time ask for one of my bouncers. Or Hizashi. Or me. Anyone but you.”

Aizawa’s mouth curled with a sly grin as he wiped at the spill with a napkin. “And why is that?”

“Because you scare away customers.” She growled.

Aizawa stared into his drink, swirling its remaining contents. “Well maybe you need better customers.” He took a sip.

“I’ll take whoever is willing to pay. Unfortunately for you, this club doesn’t survive off of chivalry.” She crossed her arms. “Besides… it’s less about losing that drunken idiot and more about losing those who saw you almost break his hand.”

“I wasn’t going to break his hand. I was going to break his finger.” Aizawa said.

You stifled a chuckle with a bite of your lip.

Nemuri rubbed the bridge of her nose in frustration. “Don’t try to make it sound like that makes it any better. And you!” She pointed at Hizashi, who had conveniently shown up not a minute before. “You know better than to leave him alone like this!”

“I can either be a bartender or a babysitter, love. I can’t do both.” Hizashi replied as he polished a glass.

Nemuri grumbled under her breath before turning her gaze back to you. “I apologize for Aizawa’s violent behavior.” “Oh I didn’t mind…” you confessed with a small smile, and you could feel Aizawa’s eyes flicker to you briefly.

“And I apologize for the inappropriate customer. Alcohol is no excuse for harassment. I guarantee he won’t be returning to this club any time soon.” She looked at Hizashi. “Get her a fresh drink.”

“Already on it…” He replied, sliding a new glass to you and removing your old one.

She looked back at you. “And your drinks are on the house tonight.”

“Thank you.” You replied.

Nemuri gave a satisfied nod. “Now I need to go schmooze the rest of our frightened patrons, which is exactly how I didn’t want to spend my evening.” With a final glare at the two men, she stormed off, her pointed heels clicking on the hard floor.

You stared at your new drink for a moment, the desire for it lost now. “Hizashi, can I have a glass of water?”

“Sure thing, darlin’.” Hizashi replied and placed a chilled glass in front of you.

You thanked him and took a sip followed by a long, deep breath. Aizawa moved into the now-vacant seat next to you, and you welcomed the closeness. The gesture felt protective, a warning to anyone else who was dumb enough to try their luck with you after that display. Noticing the closer proximity between the two of you, Hizashi quickly made himself scarce again.

“Thank you…” you said to Aizawa as your finger traced patterns into the condensation on the glass.

“It was nothing…” he replied. There was a long silence before he spoke again. “I hope I didn’t scare you.”

You looked at him with surprise then. Scared? No. Aroused? Definitely. The dampness of your panties were evidence enough of that, but he certainly didn’t need to know that.

“Not at all.” You confessed. “I actually really appreciate it.”

Aizawa’s shoulders relaxed slightly, as if a weight had been lifted.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” you asked. “You were so fast…”

Aizawa gave a small grin. “Piano isn’t the only thing I’m good at…”

You had no difficulty believing that…

“Were you a bouncer or something at one point?” you asked curiously.

Aizawa chuckled. “Yeah, something like that…” he took a swig of his drink, the ice in it clinking. The amber colored liquid was nearly gone now.

His response only gave you more questions, but you forced them down. There was a fine line between being curious and nosey, and you were too worried of crossing it, thus ending your conversation with him.

“You’re a regular here.” He commented.

It wasn’t a question – it was a statement. He recognized you. You averted your eyes away in embarrassment, feeling suddenly exposed, your anonymity blown. How long had he noticed you’d been coming here? Did he know how closely you watched him?

“Yeah.” You confessed, as you took another sip of water. The alcohol next to it was calling to you, promising to ease your anxiety, but you refrained for the moment. You wanted to keep your wits about you while you talked to him.

“No company tonight?” he asked.

Oh. He watched you more closely than you ever realized. You weren’t sure whether you were feeling embarrassed or aroused. Was it possible to feel both?

“Not this time. I got stood up.” You replied.

“Sounds like you dodged a bullet there.” He said, looking into his empty glass.

You gave a dry laugh. “True. I’ve dodged lots of bullets lately.”

Aizawa chuckled. “I believe it…”

Contrary to his outward aloof demeanor, he was nice. You could feel the tension in your body start to dissipate as words came easier.

“If you ever think you want to try a dating app, don’t.” you commented. “It makes for good stories, but sometimes it really makes you want to give up on humanity.”

That earned an honest laugh as he looked at you with a grin. “Well now you’ve piqued my curiosity.”

You couldn’t help but smile back. This actually wasn’t so bad…

With amusement, you began to recount some of your more outlandish dating disasters with him, letting him in on the world of online dating from a woman’s perspective. Aizawa listened with quiet interest, making the occasional wry joke or, for the more serious cases, wearing a deep frown of disapproval. He was a good listener, and the conversation flowed easier than you had expected, words falling from your mouth without a second thought. It felt natural. Comfortable. And for the first time in a while, you felt like yourself. After you ran out of stories, Aizawa offered a couple of his own, and you found yourself laughing at his own tales of dating woes. As Aizawa talked, Hizashi stopped by to quietly replace his empty drink before disappearing again, a pleased smile on his face. His brief presence reminded you of your own glass pooling condensation on the paper coaster beneath it, and you returned to sipping its contents, once again finding the buzz you had been enjoying as you listened to Aizawa.

The time passed by as the two of you talked about the stress of dating and relationships. You’d learned that Aizawa rarely dated, but would occasionally have to endure awkward matchups thanks to Hizashi and Nemuri. You learned how much of a private person he was, how he generally avoided dating culture entirely in favor of letting life play out on its own. Everything about him exuded a man of experience and maturity, a man comfortable in his own skin and content with his life. You couldn’t help but admire him as you soaked in every little detail that you’d wanted to know, committing every little bit of information he offered up to memory. He was everything you’d imagined; kind, respectful, and serious with a sly sense of humor that he only shared once he was feeling comfortable.

Once the topic was exhausted, you sighed. “I think I’m done with dating.” You confessed. “I’ll just resign myself to my singlehood.”

Aizawa pinned you with a pensive look. “Is that what you want?”

Something about the tone of his voice made your pulse race with excitement.

“Well… It’s better than being repeatedly disappointed.” You gave him a side glance as you took sip of your drink. “But if the right guy comes along, I wouldn’t say no…”

“Hm… the right guy…” Aizawa muttered as he returned his gaze to his glass.

Your statement was a bold one, filled with invitation. You hadn’t exactly planned for it to come out that way, but it was too late to take those words back now. You quickly tried to turn the topic back to him. “How about you? Any special someone for you?”

He chuckled. “No. No special someone. Not yet, at least.”

The words fell from his mouth like breadcrumbs leading to a secret as he eyed you over the rim of his glass. You felt lightheaded and warm, the tips of your fingers buzzing with numbness. Maybe it was the half-finished drink in your hand. Or maybe it was the look in Aizawa’s eyes that made you feel drunk, the Earth spinning under your feet as you mentally struggled to find some sort of purchase to keep from falling.

Was he…?

Hope held you captive and you suddenly became acutely aware of how close you were to him. Your eyes traced the scruff on his jawline, the stitching of his shirt, the slope of his neck as his Adam’s apple bobbed with a swallow. A stray strand of hair had come loose from his half-ponytail and was hanging over his forehead, begging to be touched. Your fingers twitched. If you reached out to tuck it back into place, would he let you?

You couldn’t muster the courage and averted your eyes. You were filled with alcohol and infatuation, you reasoned. Your defenses were down, your judgment potentially impaired… what if you were reading into something that wasn’t there? What if you were wrong?

You watched Hizashi close out a tab for an older couple as you took a sip of your water.

Warmth pressed against your forearm and looked down to see Aizawa’s arm resting against yours. All of your attention honed in on the softness of his shirtsleeve and the warmth of his skin as his hand fiddled with a paper coaster, flipping it over and over with each tap on the counter. The contact was intentional, calculated in its subtle intimacy. It was a silent question… a tentative invitation, absent of assumptions or expectations. Your doubt evaporated like mist and you understood.

He was interested. In you.

Your heart did a somersault in your chest as you sat there, stunned. Time froze as everything that’d transpired throughout the evening flitted through your mind. It was a perfect amalgamation of circumstances, leading to this single moment, giving you the one thing you wanted most. You held your breath as you stood on the precipice, uncertain if your next step would make you fall or let you fly.

You stared at the contact and carefully… slowly… brushed your pinky along the back of his hand. It traced the vein that stood out there, following it to the knuckle. His own hand let go of the coaster his was holding, his own pinky linking with yours in affirmation.

You couldn’t help the elated smile that spread across your face in that moment and when you looked up at him with a shy glance, he had a smile of his own, small and secretive as he stared at your linked fingers. Slowly the rest of his fingers followed, twining themselves into yours until he held your hand, his thumb brushing sensually against your skin. That single action alone was enough to reignite the fire in your loins, your blood racing through your veins from the epicenter of his touch.

Hizashi’s voice crashed through your private, titillating moment. “We’re closing up, lovebirds…”

Your hand pulled away from Aizawa’s on instinct as you looked around the now empty club. Only staff remained, finalizing the last bit of cleanup and arranging the furniture for the next day. How had it gotten so late so fast?

“You want me to walk you to your car?” Hizashi asked, a knowing grin on his face.

In all that had happened that evening, you’d forgotten about that little arrangement. But you weren’t ready to leave just yet…

Aizawa’s voice answered before yours could. “Leave me the keys to the place. I’ll walk her tonight and lock up when we leave.”

“Suit yourself.” Hizashi replied with a shrug. He placed a set of keys on the counter. “Don’t tell Nemuri, though. She’ll kill me.”

“Your secret’s safe with me, friend.” Aizawa replied.

With that, Hizashi gave a small salute, grabbed his coat, and left. You watched, your heart pounding as the door closed behind him, leaving a deafening silence in its wake.

You were alone with Aizawa. Completely and utterly alone.

Your turned back to face him and froze. Aizawa still sat on his stool, but he faced you now with an elbow propped against the counter, and that simple distinction made his presence fill your space. He stared at you, the look in his eyes unfettered now, deep and hungry. “You really do look beautiful tonight.” He complimented.

With the way the words fell from his mouth and curled warmly into your chest like a cat, you believed him. You felt beautiful.

“Thank you.” You said with a soft smile. “You look handsome yourself, Aizawa.”

He took your hand again and slowly began to lean forward, closing the small distance between you. “Call me Shouta.”

You swallowed. “Shouta.” You whispered, feeling the name on your lips.

His dark pupils dilated and you felt his other hand on your jawline, warm, long fingers wrapping towards the back of your neck to pull you into a kiss.

His lips were warm and soft as his stubble tickled your skin, and you leaned into it fervently, your hands finding their home on his chest. You could feel his toned muscles beneath the black cotton and a purr found its way to the back of your throat. Shouta took it as an invitation, coming off of his barstool to stand between your now parted legs, his arm wrapping itself around your waist as his tongue slid along your lips. You opened your mouth eagerly to taste the bourbon there, to feel the wet muscle dance and slide against your own. Every touch, every taste, every smell enveloped you further and further in the essence that was Shouta until your entire body was singing, teetering on the edge.

Oh God… you were not going to let yourself cum just by kissing him.

You pulled out of the kiss slightly as your hands pressed gently against his chest, and he retreated from you just enough for his eyes to search your face, a silent question in them.

“I-I’m sorry, I just…” your words fell pitifully from your flushed, wet mouth, your voice shaky with pent-up arousal.

One second longer. One second longer is all it would have taken…

Shouta’s hand on your back began to rub soft, slow circles. “Would you like some water?” he asked, a small smile on his lips.

You nodded, and he kissed your forehead before handing you your glass. You drank greedily before handing it back to him, half-empty.

“Have you ever been kissed like that?” he asked curiously, as he placed the glass back down onto the counter.

You gave a small laugh and shook your head. “No… not like that.”

Your confession left you feeling embarrassed, even as your chest felt it would burst from this latest turn of events.

You kissed Aizawa Shouta.

Actually, he kissed you.

You needed a moment to collect yourself, to process everything you were feeling.

So, you completely changed the subject.

“How long have you been playing piano?” you asked.

Shouta didn’t miss a beat, returning to sit on his stool to give you the space you silently needed. But his hand still held yours, resting on the counter as his fingers twined with yours. It gave you a sense of reassurance, that everything was okay, despite your awkward hesitation.

“My grandpa had one when I was a kid. Used to mess around on it.” He explained. “He finally got me lessons from a guy he knew, and I’ve loved it ever since.”

You smiled as you watched his thumb trace across each of your fingernails. You returned the gesture, tracing the details of his own hand. It was like living a dream, to see them up close and feel them, every fingernail, every vein, even the pads of his fingertips. The number of times you’d fantasized about these hands…

“I always wanted to learn how to play, but my family could never afford lessons.” You confessed. “But my mom used to have all of these old jazz albums, and I used to sit in my room and listen to them for hours.”

“I can teach you.”

Your fingers stopped their tracing. “What?”

“I can teach you.” He repeated.

You shook your head. “Um, no it’s okay… I’d probably be a terrible student anyway.”

“A student can only be as bad as the person teaching them. Follow me.”

Before you could protest further, Shouta’s hand closed around yours and pulled you from your seat. He led you up the steps of the stage and across it until you reached the black piano sitting forlornly in the empty space.

It felt strange being up on the stage, especially with the club being completely empty. The stage light was bright and warm on your shoulders, and the silence sounded different there, affected by the difference in acoustics.

Shouta sat at one end of the black bench and pulled you down by your hand until you were sitting next to him. The bench was small, meant for only one person, so you had to press yourself against him to be able to sit without feeling like you were going to fall off. Even then, it wasn’t the most comfortable arrangement, but you endured, if only to be close to him.

He released your hand and began his instruction.

“First thing you should know is how to find middle C. Everything else will center around this.” He pressed the white key with the thumb of his right hand, the note singing out into the empty space. “Then, it’s D, E, F, G, A, B, which brings you back to C. That creates an octave, also known as a scale.” He played each note as he spoke.

“What about the black keys?” you asked curiously.

“Those are the half notes. Don’t worry about those right now.” He arranged his hand back how he initially had it, his thumb on the middle C key.

“Now,” he continued, “First, you must learn how to move your fingers along the keys. Like this.” Shouta demonstrated the motion again, his fingers playing each note slowly in a steady rhythm. “The switch of the fingers is important. It will help you flow quickly and easily without having to watch where your hands are, which will be important for reading sheet music.” He repeated the motion again, the sounds once again ringing out. Then, he removed his hand. “Your turn.”

You bit your lip and placed your hand how you’d seen his arranged and tried. The notes were clumsy, lacking in rhythm and falling together as you forgot in your nervous haze where the switch of the fingers happened. Embarrassment flooded you and you withdrew your hand.

“Don’t expect to get it right on the first try.” He reassured. “Let’s try it again. Try to keep your fingers loose, curved like a bowl.”

Shouta modeled it again. You watched, but your focus was muddled with anxiety, attraction, and likely alcohol. It was a poor recipe for learning, but you knew he was trying to make you feel comfortable, and you didn’t want to turn down his kindness. You arranged your hand back on the keys again and tried again, with little improvement.

“I’m sorry, I…” you stuttered as you clutched your hand in your lap protectively.

His hand covered yours and you looked up at him to see him staring at you with warm patience. “It’s okay. If you don’t want to do this, we can stop.”

You stared at him, mouth slightly open as you thought about it. You knew he wouldn’t hold it against you if you wanted to quit. And sure, you felt silly being so poor at it when sitting next to someone who’s skills you idolized.

But did you really want to stop? How often would you get an opportunity like this?

“No, it’s okay. Keep going, I want to learn.” You replied.

Shouta watched you for a moment longer before he placed his hand back on the keys. “Place your hand over mine.”

You followed his instructions, your hand looking small compared to his. His skin was warm, and it calmed the shaking in your fingers.

“Watch where the fingers land. Feel how they move.” He played the notes, and you could feel the tendons of his hand tense and shift, his fingers rising and falling like a wave.

“It’s like they’re dancing.” You said. “You switch to your thumb on this key… E?”

“Yes.” Shouta replied in approval. “Your turn.”

This time you focused, remembering the feel of how his hand had moved under yours as you played the keys, switching your fingers at the right time. The improvement was noticeable.

He smiled. “Good. Now, for the other hand. You’ll start one octave lower. Can you find it?”

Your arm crossed Aizawa’s chest to press the white key, letting the sound ring out.

“Perfect. Only this time, your pinky will sit on this key, with the others following after.”

You placed your fingers across the white keys. “Like this?”

Shouta nodded. “Now you’ll try the same progression with your left hand. The middle finger will follow after the thumb plays the G note.”

You removed your hand so he could place his own and demonstrate it for you. You followed after him, imitating his actions, but this time your attempt was worse than your first, your hand angled awkwardly due to limited space as you pressed yourself against him.

“That was terrible.” You laughed. “I can’t reach very easily.”

A small mischievous smile formed on Shouta’s lips and he slipped his hand around your waist.

“Come here.” He said.

You didn’t fight him as he pulled you into his lap. His right hand settled itself against your stomach as his legs parted slightly to make room for yours, your knees drawn together between his. The heat of his touch seeped through the fabric of your dress, weaving a tight knot of desire deep in your core that made your body go rigid as you tried to keep yourself from melting against him.

“Is this okay?” He asked, leaning slightly to see your face from his position behind you.

You licked your lips and swallowed, giving a nod. “Y-Yes…” you answered shakily. “Are you okay…? I’m not too heavy?”

Shouta gave a soft laugh. “No. Not at all.” His breath was hot against your skin and you could feel the scratch of his stubble as he spoke, sending goosebumps over your body. “Let’s continue.”

He placed his left hand on the keys again with ease, regardless of how poor his view of the piano was with you in front of him. He knew this instrument like the back of his hand; could probably play it with his eyes closed and never miss a note.

He played the simple notes again, C through B, fingers tip-toeing across the keys as he said their names out loud, helping you to remember them. You watched carefully for where the shift in finger arrangement happened, the middle finger following after the thumb just as he’d described.

“You try.” He instructed, his right arm still wrapped around your waist, holding you close against him. You could feel the warmth of his chest against your back now, feel the strength of his body beneath you.

You loved this. The lap-sitting, the lesson, the praise. Each time Shouta praised your improvements it sent a thrill through you from your head down to your toes. To be complimented by him, even for something as simple as pressing a few keys… it only made you want to please him more.

You played the progression of notes with renewed motivation, once again showing improvement from your first attempt.

“Good.”

Your spine straightened against him slightly. The thumb of his hand caressed your abdomen where he held you.

“Now you need to learn to do the same but in reverse, until you’re back where your fingers started.”

You moved your hand away to let him demonstrate and his right hand left your stomach, leaving an ache in its wake. You watched both of his hands play the simple notes up and down, working together with ease. But you knew it was all a ruse… he made it look easy, but if you tried to do the same, you’d fumble clumsily.

“I don’t know about this…” you chuckled.

“It takes practice,” he replied, “until it becomes muscle memory.”

Shouta demonstrated it again, up and down. And again.

You placed your hands over his, wanting to feel the touch of his hands under yours more than the actual pressing of the keys. All you wanted was his arm around your waist again, his hand on your lower abdomen. His touch was tantalizing, and you wanted more of it.

He completed the simple scale progression two more times with your hands on top of his.

“Do you want to try?” he offered.

His hands left the keys to hold you again, his arms wrapped more tightly around you this time. You leaned against him, reveling in being held in his arms.

“I’m going to mess up.” You warned.

“Just take it slow.”

You shook your head a little and let out a small breath, shifting your position in his lap slightly as you leaned forward to focus on the keys. His arms loosened around you, his hands shifting to your thighs.

It was likely an innocent action, intended to give you the freedom to move as you made yourself comfortable. But as soon as the tips of his fingers touched the bare skin below the hem of your dress, that sharp zap of arousal tingled the ends of your nerves, causing you to suck in air and part your knees slightly, your walls throbbing in hopeful anticipation.

It wasn’t intentional. Your body just… reacted. But Shouta noticed instantly.

There was silence at first, his hands still on your thighs, waiting. Finally, he spoke. “Y/N….” his voice was huskier now. “How long has it been since you’ve been cared for?”

Embarrassment flooded through you. Embarrassment at your sensitivity to his touch, embarrassment at the answer to his question... You hesitated a moment before words fell clumsily from your mouth. “I, um… a long time.”

A low hum rumbled from Shouta’s chest as his fingers brushing gently along the inside of your thighs until they dipped just beneath the black fabric. The action was experimental, a testing of the waters, and it brought immediate results. Your thighs widened the slightest bit more as you failed to fight back a whimper, your hands grasping his arms in need. Not a moment later you could feel the growing firmness of his cock begin to press against your backside, despite the restriction of Shouta’s jeans. Shouta’s hands halted again their movement, waiting. He was miraculously under control despite his obvious arousal, and you envied him.

“Do you want me to touch you?” he asked, his voice low.

Of course you did. It was obvious you did. Why else would your legs be parting like the red sea as if he were Moses?

But for some reason, your body language wasn’t enough for him. He needed to hear it. A sense of urgency filled you, desperate need driving you. At this point, you’d give him whatever he wanted…

“Yes.” you begged. “Please, Shouta... Please touch me.” You leaned back against him, allowing the angle of your hips to tilt as your hands guided him further beneath the skirt of your dress.

With you draped onto him, your head tilted back, Shouta kissed the curve of your neck as his hands gently gripped the insides of your knees, pulling your legs apart until they were draped over his own. You were open for him now, your skirt hiked halfway up by the spread of your legs.

Your heart pounded in your chest with so much excitement that you could feel your own pulse in your neck and between your legs. This was happening… This was really happening… How many times had you fantasized about this very thing? How many times had you longed for this man, whispered his name on your tongue only to be met by the empty silence? And now here he was, freeing you from the shackles of your loneliness in the best way possible.

Shouta’s hands pushed the fabric up the rest of the way until it was pooled around your hips, exposing your panties. The thin cotton fabric did little to protect your aching cunt from the cold air, and you sucked air through your teeth at the sensation. His fingers traced invisible lines up the inside of your thighs, leaving nothing but singing nerves in their wake that cascaded into a shiver that rolled over your flesh, leaving goosebumps. Your body was already moving of its own volition, hips rolling, eager for Shouta’s fingers yet simultaneously attempting to grind down onto his restrained cock. Your breaths were already coming in hot and ragged, every inch of you frantic for the release that it had been denied all evening.

Shouta gave a low growl, his left hand holding down your hip, halting your movements. “You better stop that…” he warned.

No doubt your girating was making things difficult for him on his end. But you didn’t care. You were an unfettered, horny mess now.

A whine escaped your lips at his restriction. In response, Shouta’s left hand trailed up the length of your body, caressing over your breast before finding its home on your neck. His palm was against your voice box now, his fingers long enough to wrap around your throat and reach your jaw. There was no force in his hold, but it still held power over you, ushering your body into stillness while your chest heaved with heavy breaths.

“Patience.” He whispered. “Let me take care of you.”

Shouta followed up his words with more gentle kisses along your neck, your shoulder… wherever his lips could reach with you on his lap. The feel of his hand on your throat was a reminder of who was in control. But it was also a promise - a promise to ensure your needs would be met.

Once Shouta was sure he had your compliance, his right hand travelled the remaining distance of your inner thigh to arrive at your panties, where moist heat greeted him.

A low hum of approval rumbled in his chest, vibrating against your back. “You’re so wet.”

A pitiful “yes” was all you could muster before the tips of his fingers brushed gently against your clothed sex, stealing your voice and replacing it with a gasp.

Slowly Shouta pet you, his fingers stroking gentle circles over the wet cotton, teasing the sensitive flesh beneath. With his hand still on your neck, you kept your body torturously motionless as he gradually increased the pressure of his digits, reducing his speed as he passed over your clit to drag the pads of his fingers over the bundle of nerves.

You swallowed the pooling saliva in your mouth, the action causing your throat to press against his hand. “Please…” you begged. “I can’t…”

Shouta was strict, but not cruel. He obliged, slipping his fingers beneath the cotton to swim his digits into your juices, never breaking his circular, rhythmic motion over your slick entrance. The scent of your arousal surrounded both of you, thick and heavy.

“Fuck, Y/N…” he growled against your skin.

Two of his fingers dipped into you then, slow at first, allowing you to stretch around him as your walls quivered. Your thighs tensed at the intrusion, welcoming the stinging pressure as your core burned with fire. He withdrew his fingers slowly and you lifted your head to watch in carnal fascination to see his fingers shining wet down to the knuckles. He pushed them into you again, curling his fingers towards the sensitive, spongey tissue along the top of your walls, his thumb pressing down on your wet clit. A zap of stimulation fired from your core before fizzling away, a teasing warning of what was to come.

“Oh-Oh fuck…” you gasped as one hand reached back and grabbed a fistful of Shouta’s thick, dark hair.

He picked up his pace then, his thumb driving firm circles around your swollen pearl as the sounds of your wet hole being finger-fucked filled the silence of the empty stage. With each pass of his thumb, with each curl of his fingers, the heat grew hotter, your cunt swollen and burning with the need for release. Your thighs were tensed so tightly now that it made your legs lift and you had to brace your feet against the piano, discordant notes ringing out to join the sounds of your heavy pants and wet squelching in a lewd song. Shouta’s hand left your throat to hold you under your thigh to keep you steady as his other hand worked fast and hard to unravel you. With the absence of his touch on your neck, you were free to move your hips, grinding hard into his hand, his lap, whatever part of him you were touching. Your grip on his hair tightened, mirroring the tension building within you, clinging to him like the boughs of a tree knowing that any second the flood would come.

Shouta was your lifeline, your rock, your destroyer. You were the waves and he was the shore, and your body tensed to prepare itself to crash against him.

“Come on, baby…” Shouta whispered gruffly. “I’ve got you. Cum for me.”

You came with a cry, loud and frantic as your walls clamped down on his fingers. The ball of heat that you had been carrying like a stone exploded within you, incinerating every nerve from the inside out, leaving nothing but sweet, sharp, euphoria in its wake. Your walls spasmed repeatedly, sucking greedily on Shouta’s drenched fingers, as you cried and moaned, bucked and arched. Shouta’s arm was around your waist, holding you against him to keep you from sliding off of his lap as you rode the high of your orgasm, tumbling like a waterfall over and over again to finally become a puddle in his strong arms.

Shouta held you silently against him as your body twitched with aftershocks of pleasure. Once your spasms subsided and he was sure you wouldn’t fall from your perch, Shouta released his hold around your waist to draw his fingers up and down your arm, creating goosebumps under his gentle touch. His fingers were still in you, his hand cupped between your legs. The warmth of his touch on your tired cunt was comforting, and it brought forth a content moan from your parted lips. Shouta smiled as he planted another kiss on your shoulder.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that with him. But you finally made yourself sit up when you felt sleep starting to drag you down into its murky depths, your limbs feeling heavy.

Finally, Shouta spoke. “Better?” he asked.

You gave a laugh. “Much.” You looked down at yourself in amusement. “You made a mess of me, though…”

Shouta gave a satisfied hum and stared at his hand that held you. “I like you messy.” He stated.

“So, you’re just gonna leave me like this?” you teased.

He laughed and withdrew his fingers, wiping the slick coating them onto his jeans. “As much as I like that idea, no.” He adjusted your ruined underwear and the hem of your dress back into place before turning you around in his lap. His hands were planted on your rear, keeping you securely and comfortably in place. “It’s late. We should get you home.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him. “What about you?” you asked, your eyes glancing down to his lap. Your hands began to trail down his chest to reach the button of his pants, eager to reciprocate.

Shouta smiled at you and grabbed your hands, bringing them back up to plant kisses on your palms. “Tonight was about you. There’ll be more opportunities for both of us later.” You pouted and he chuckled. “Don’t give me that face.”

“It hardly seems fair…” you muttered. You were looking forward to enjoying more of him… you didn’t want tonight to end.

He hummed as he began to trail kisses along your jawline and you arched your neck to allow him better access. “We both… need sleep.”

Sleep? With his mouth on your skin, sleep was the last thing on your mind. Shouta pulled his lips away to look into your eyes again and you could see the fatigue there, dark circles framing bloodshot eyes. He really did look incredibly tired, and you couldn’t help but wonder how late it really was. You brushed the errant strand of hair off of his forehead, tucking it behind his ear.

“Okay...” you softly agreed.

“You should come back tomorrow night.” He mused, the mischief back in his eyes. “We can continue our piano lessons.”

“I’d like that.” you smiled.

You couldn’t wait.

#aizawa shouta #Shouta Aizawa #Aizawa x reader #Aizawa x you #shouta x reader #Shouta x you #bnha smut #mha smut #aizawa smut #bnharem collab #Jazz Aizawa #Jazz AU #Music AU #BNHA music AU

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cjsinkythoughts · 3 years

Text

FATWS One Shot #1 - Back to the Beginning

Word Count: 1644

Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of Intoxicated Automobile Accident, Steve Being a Slight Puppy

Setting/Characters: Directly after Captain America: The First Avenger, New York City; Reader, Director Nicholas Fury, Captain Steven Rogers

A/N: Here it is! The first One Shot that goes along with my FATWS Series! Keep in mind; it doesn’t take place during FATWS. There are NO SPOILERS in this and there will be NO SPOILERS in any of the One Shots. I do recommend still reading the Series, though, to understand the Reader more. These are more like…prequels to the Series. And it won’t be a series. It’ll just be a collection of One Shots based on what I think is important and what you guys wanna see. I also WON’T BE DOING A TAGLIST FOR ONE SHOTS! (Only those in my All Works Taglist will be tagged!) I’ll be adding them to my FATWS Series Masterlist under a ‘One Shot’ section, so you’ll be able to find them there, and I’ll also be tagging them with #fatws series oneshots. Feel free to send in requests for what you wanna see. I’ve gotten a few already, so I’ll be writing those tomorrow. I’ll say that they’ll all be shorter like this one, but...knowing me...we’ll see.

(Also, I’m aware of the theories that SHIELD chose the woman because the resemblance to Peggy, but just ignore that for this.)

As always, not beta’d so please excuse mistakes! Be kind to yourselves and each other! Enjoy and stay tuned!

FATWS Masterlist

cjsinkythoughts Masterlist

You knew. You knew the moment his eyes raked over your form. You knew when he looked over his shoulder at the radio playing some baseball game from 1941. You had done your homework, just like you did with every mission you worked. Granted, this one was a little different, but when Fury called you in personally, you couldn’t say no. You told them your uniform was wrong. You told them the game was too close to when he went under. You told them.

So you weren’t surprised in the least when he smashed through the wall, running out of the room. You didn’t necessarily regret pushing the button; you did it because you knew your cover had been blown, not because you were threatened. But you regretted calling out Code 13, not realizing that they’d chase him out into the middle of Times Square of all places.

Before you could head outside, wanting to know what happened, Fury’s name flashed across your vibrating phone.

“Y/L/N.”

“We’re heading back.”

An eyebrow raised, showing your confusion. “That was quick.”

“He’s fine, if you’re insinuating what I think you are.”

“I’m not insinuating anything, sir.” It was a lie, of course. You wouldn’t put it past Fury to slow down the Captain anyway he could, especially if the Man Out of Time was putting up a fight. “Sir, with all due respect, I tried-”

“I know, Agent. When We get back, we’ll set up in Conference Room C. I want you to join us.”

Your eyes narrowed, free hand on your hip. “You only called me in to ease him into this whole new century thing-”

“And he’s not eased.”

“It’s not my fault, Fury. I told your guys that it was wrong-”

“I know, Agent. Introducing him to the new century obviously went less smoothly than we anticipated.”

“Ya think?”

“Conference Room-”

“C. I heard you the first time. I’ll be there. Give me a few minutes.” He hung up without any farewells, making you roll your eyes. The director had pulled you off an assignment - in the middle of it - and promised you could get back to it once you finished helping him with the Star Spangled Man problem; help Captain Rogers integrate into the new times. But it was starting to seem that Fury didn’t just mean when he woke up.

You quickly changed, switching the old fashioned uniform for the tighter SHIELD-assigned one, before heading up to the level with all the conference rooms. You understood doing this in New York instead of the HQ in DC - the captain was from New York and, as much as it changed, some things would be familiar - and you definitely understood not doing this on the Helicarrier since Rogers didn’t even know about smartphones yet. And you definitely weren’t complaining; you had an apartment here in the City that you hadn’t slept in for months now.

Glancing at the room plaques, you paused in front of ‘C’. You took a couple breaths, relaxing yourself just as you did before any mission, before opening the door and stepping in.

Fury and Rogers were sitting at the table on opposite ends, the blonde looking around warily, eyeing the few agents lining the walls. You shot Fury a look, disapproving of the firepower in the room.

“Captain. Director.” You nodded to them in greeting.

Roger’s eyes snapped towards you, recognition lighting up his features. “You-”

“Agent Y/N Y/L/N. Sorry about the act.”

He nodded hesitantly, watching you as you sat down a couple seats from Fury. “I have some other business to attend to, so I’ll make this quick. To help you adjust, it’s been decided to assign an agent to help you for the next few months. Agent Y/L/N, here, will take that position.”

You blinked, turning to Fury, not expecting that. “What?”

Fury ignored you, standing up and setting down a file on the table in front of you when he passed. “The file has what you need to explain to him. Start now.”

“Fury.” You snapped, eyebrows furrowing as you stared at the file. Looking back as the door opened, you scrambled to stand when you realized he was leaving. “Fury! Excuse me.” You pardoned yourself from the captain, chasing after the director without waiting for his reaction. “Nicholas!”

That got his attention, his stride pausing. He spun on his heel, an eyebrow quirked. “Agent-”

“You didn’t mention anything about months helping him. I thought you meant, at most, a week!”

He crossed his arms tightly across his chest. “You’re the first person he saw when he woke up. You’re the best option.”

“First off,” you mimicked his position, popping your hip for good measure. “Even though I was the first person he saw, I deceived him. Why would he trust me? Second, why me? I understand having me for the little show you put on. I get that. But me? Of all people? You know I don’t do personal stuff.”

Fury narrowed his eyes. “You’re on this, and that’s final. He needs to know politics and technology. Settle him into the apartment in the file.”

You gaped as he turned around and started towards the elevators at the end of the hallway. “What about-?!”

“Your mission is being taken care of!” He called over his shoulder. “Politics and technology!”

You huffed, stomping your foot, frustrated, well aware of the fact that you were throwing a mini tantrum. You worked behind the scenes, acting as someone other than yourself. You didn’t help 93 year old super soldiers settle into new houses, teach them about current politics, and explain what cell phones were.

Walking back into the conference room, you found it empty besides Rogers, who was looking through the file, eyebrows knit in confusion. “Sorry about that.” You apologized, moving around the table to plop into the seat next to him.

He gave a half hearted shrug, glancing over at you. “It’s okay. He didn’t tell you the plan. I don’t blame you for being annoyed.”

“Yeah…it’s nothing personal. I’m not annoyed at you, and it’s not because of you. It’s just-”

“You don’t do personal stuff.” At your quirked eyebrow, he tapped his ear. “I could hear you.”

You cleared your throat, feeling slightly embarrassed at being heard. “Oh. Right. Enhanced hearing. Um, so, I guess you’re already starting without me.”

The tips of his ears turned red as you gestured to the file he was scanning. He dropped it, moving it over to you. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” You shook your head. “It’s your schooling. However you wanna do this, whatever pace you want, we’ll do that. Fury just wants you to know-”

“Politics and technology.” He shot you a small smirk. “I heard that too.”

You chuckled a bit, nodding. “Right. Okay. Let’s see here. Nickie said there was an apartment they got you…”

“Page six.” He informed you as you flipped through the pages.

You hummed, looking at the small apartment, perfect size for one person, right here in Manhattan…in the same building as yours, you noted. “Of course.” You rolled your eyes. You’d basically be his babysitter, and you knew neither of you wanted that.

“What? What’s wrong?”

You sighed, shaking your head. “This is my building.”

He blinked, looking down at the picture of the apartment. “Oh. Well, if you want I can request a change-”

“No, no. It’s fine. I just - I wish Fury told me.”

“Can-can I ask you a personal question?”

You shrugged, thumbing through the rest of the file. They basically wanted you to give him a government lesson starting with the fifties and then go over military technological advancements - a lot of Stark Industries stuff. “You might as well. We’re gonna be spending quite a bit of time together.”

“Why don’t you do personal?” You stopped your reading, tapping a finger on the table as you chewed on your cheek. “Sorry. You don’t hafta share if it’s too personal. I get it. I was never really into sharing my emotions, either.”

Turning your head to him, your lips pursed thoughtfully. His head was ducked, his blonde hair previously parted and styled was falling into his eyes, which were trained on his linked hands in his lap. His forehead was still creased, but it was more contemplative than confused as it was previously.

“I specialize in undercover operations.” Ignoring the way he whipped his head to you, slight surprise in those blues that you were answering his question, your head dropped back to the files, trying to act nonchalantly. “Before that I grew up in foster homes. My parents died when I was little. Drunk driver. No one survived. I was…two. I think. Maybe three. I learned to keep my head down to stay out of trouble; be the kid whoever had me wanted me to be. Anyways, I’m used to playing other people. I’m not really used to being myself.”

The room was blanketed with a silence that wasn’t uncomfortable. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, either, but it was welcomed as Rogers processed what you had just told him. His voice was quiet, almost shy, when he spoke up. “You can be yourself with me…if you want.”

You looked over at him again, your lips turning up slightly as you met his sincere gaze. “Thanks. You can be yourself with me too, Captain Rogers.”

“Let’s start with you calling me Steve, Agent Y/L/N.”

Your features broke into a bigger grin as you nodded, accepting his terms. “Alright, Steve. I don’t really have a preference. Just don’t call me Agent. I get flashbacks to every conversation with Fury.”

Steve laughed and you couldn’t help but enjoy the way his eyes shut, his nose scrunching up. “Alright.” He agreed with a beam. “I think I can avoid that, honey.”

All Works Taglist:

@happygoreading

@bibliophilewednesday

#cjswriting #fatws series oneshots #falcon and the winter soldier series oneshots #fatws series oneshot 1 #fatws series #back to the beginning one shot #steve rogers x reader #kinda #💛🧭#❤🐦💙🦾⏪

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andromedasstarship · 3 years

Text

are you free tomorrow?

pairing - spencer reid x gn!reader

warnings - nothing! just a sweet & cliche ‘first meeting’ story :)

summary - midterms are coming up and all the good cafes on campus are filled, maybe the sweet looking curly haired guy in the back will share his table with you?

a/n - for my valentines day oneshot series! 'every table is full, but i really need to study, is there any way we could share?'

-------

Stressed, was a simple way to explain the current state you were in. The semester had snuck up on you, moving faster than you had ever expected. As the fifth week was coming to a close, you were getting dangerously close to the storm of midterms you had waiting for you in the sixth week. And you desperately needed to study. The only thing stopping you- surprisingly not your own procrastination-, was that it seemed as if the rest of campus was also in the same predicament as you.

This was the third cafe on campus that you had entered that was absolutely filled.

Your eyes scanned around the room, hoping to catch someone in the middle of packing their things. Nope. You considered circling back through the other two cafes you’d just been in or maybe even just going off campus. Except you couldn’t justify wasting more time by circling the same few cafes over and over, nor could your college student budget justify paying for coffee when you could just use your allotted campus cash.

Just as you were about to give up and leave- begrudgingly deciding that studying in your room would have to be good enough-, you spotted a man sitting alone towards the back of the cafe. He sat at a large table with plenty of space; even though he had one of the largest stacks of papers you’d ever seen one individual possess.

You weighed your options, internally debating if it’d be worth potentially hurting your pride by asking him to share the table and getting rejected. Seeing as the other option was definitely hurting your pride by hovering the same cafes like a hungry park bird, you tightened your grip on your tote bag and started walking towards him.

Whatever he was reading must’ve been exciting, as his focus didn’t stray even for a moment nor did he notice you at all until you were right up against the chair across from him. You awkwardly cleared your throat to catch his attention, giving him a tiny wave when he looked up at you.

“Hi!”

“Hello?”

“I’m really sorry to bother you, just every table is full and I really need to study and I know it’s not the best, but could I share this table with you?” You asked anxiously, holding your breath as you waited for his answer.

As he opened his mouth to respond, you quickly added. “I swear it’ll be like I’m not even here!”

He gave you a ‘please calm down’ look and you felt some of the weight dissolve from your shoulders as he nodded his head. “Take a seat, no worry at all.” He told you, adding a kind smile as he looked back down at his stack of papers and pulled them closer; giving you more room at the table.

You let your bag fall off your shoulder and hit the ground with a thunk, relieved to no longer be carrying the physical weight around. You clasped the top of the chair in front of you, leaning towards him just so. “Thank you,” you said, giving your best gracious smile, “let me get you a coffee or something?”

He looked almost shocked- or was he flustered? you weren’t sure-, quickly shaking his head in response. “No! You don’t need to do that at all.” He assured you, but you weren’t so quick to back down.

“It’s the least I can do, please?” You pressed, giving him a very exaggerated pleaaaase look, “with all those papers you must need some serious caffeine.”

You thought he was going to continue this little back-and-forth with you, but you watched as his body relaxed ever so slightly, signs of what you hoped was him conceding. “Just a black coffee.”

"Just black?" You countered, raising your eyebrow, leaving it unsaid that he was just choosing the cheapest drink they had.

"Room for cream? I'll fix it up myself." He replied.

----

From the line, you had your first opportunity to really give this guy a look. The papers in front of him had sucked him back in as soon as you stepped away from the table; meaning you weren’t too worried about him catching you in your little…, creeping moment. The student population was large, but it was still small enough that you found yourself repeatedly seeing the same strangers. Yet, you’d never seen this man before. And you were sure you would’ve remembered this man, had you seen him before. What? He was undeniably attractive. There was something about the way his hair just perfectly curled around his face that made you just want to reach out and ruff- that’s weird. Even his little sweater-tie-button up outfit was doing it for you. Maybe today won’t be so bad.

The line moved quickly and you found yourself carrying the two drinks back over to the table in under five minutes. You set his cup by him, taking care to put it away from the massive stack of papers. You set your cup down next, sliding in the chair diagonal from him.

“You know,” you started, hefting your bag up into the chair next to you, “I never got your name?”

“Thank you,” he quickly got out, holding up his coffee as he did so. “I’m Spencer, uh…, Spencer Reid.” He told you, a faint red creeping up from under his collar.

You gave him your name in return, a bit distracted as you pulled more of your things from your bag. From the corner of your eye, you saw him hold his coffee up again, nodding his head towards the cream and sugar station before walking off to fix his drink up properly.

In his absence, you pulled out the rest of your books, debating which subject you should tackle first. You were glad you were finally towards the end of your college career, meaning the majority of your classes were specific to your interests rather than a four hundred student gen-ed; not that it made you any more excited to study for this exam.

When Spencer came back he set his coffee down with a slightly shaky hand. “Did you know coffee is actually classified as a fruit?” He asked, as he slid back into his seat against the wall.

“I didn’t know that.” You replied, shaking your head.

“The coffee bean itself grows on a bush and they’re actually the pit of a berry, which is what makes them a fruit. They come in two main varieties, green and red.” He rambled, as if reciting from some magic book stored in his brain. As soon as he was done he clamped his mouth shut, remembering how most people reacted to his ramblings.

You raised an eyebrow at him, but your face didn’t show any signs of annoyance. “Big coffee fan Spencer?”

“Big fan of facts.” He corrected, giving you a sheepish smile.

“Oh yeah? Well you seem pretty smart then, which class should I study for first?” You asked, holding up two of your textbooks.

He looked at both books curiously, trying to take a guess at what your major might’ve been. He pointed at the one in your left hand. God’s, Monsters and Mortals.

“Are you an…, English major?” He guessed, wondering if the book was some supplement for a unit on the Iliad. Not to mention the other book you held up was quite literally called ‘Literature Through The Ages’.

You shook your head, putting the book he chose down on the table while you returned the other one to your bag. “Close! Classics,” you said, giving him a sheepish grin, “I know, it’s a bit niche, kinda ridiculous, but there’s something about how we immortalized memories of ancient times through literature that are just fascinating. There’s something about the lessons of the past that I think a lot of people are ignoring today, ya know?” You replied, quickly closing your mouth before you’d go on some incredibly long tangent about your interests and studies. Didn’t you say it’d be like you weren’t even here?

“No, no!” He hurriedly said, shaking his head. “Understanding the lessons and patterns of the past and how they’ve morphed humanity today? That’s cool!” He assured you.

“Well what about you, Spencer Reid? What’s your major, you must have some horrible professors, if that stack of papers is the norm.” You joked, liking the way the corner of his eyes crinkled as he smiled.

“I’m uh…, a professor here.” He responded, his face cringing ever so slightly as he watched your mouth drop open simultaneously as your eyes nearly fell out of your head.

“You’re a…, professor?” You repeated, extremely confused as to how someone who looked only a few years older than you was somehow employed to such a degree.

“Just a visiting one!” He clarified, clearing his throat. “I’m on a sort of, uh, sabbatical from work.”

“Isn’t a sabbatical when someone gets away from academia?” You countered, smiling to show you meant no actual aggression.

“Big fan of facts, remember?” He repeated plainly, but you caught the joke in it and you smiled wider at that.

“No offense Professor, but you look a bit young to ya know, be one.” You said, hoping he’d give his age in response.

“I’m 29.” Ah, only four years older than you.

“29 and already a professor at a university like this? What, do you have like 20 Phds. or something?” You asked jokingly, laughing a bit as you said so.

“Three actually.” He replied, a mix of shyness and pride across his face.

Your mouth dropped back open again, trying to wrap your mind around the man in front of you. “What are you? A genius then?”

“By some standards, yes.”

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence after that. Him paying special attention to each paper he graded- you wished all your professors cared about student work the way he seemed to-, while you were busy deciding which parts of the taught units were the most important.

After what you imagined was nothing short of four hours you felt your head begin to throb and your eyes were starting to go fuzzy. In that time, the two of you had downed at least five coffees each, going back and forth over who paid for them. You had managed to create an individual study guide for nearly all your upcoming exams and a quick glance told you that Spencer still had a few papers left. Unbeknownst to you he could have finished those papers hours ago, even with the in depth comments he entered into the computer for each one; there was just something about you that drew him in.

He wasn’t sure whether it was the funny unfiltered comments you’d make sporadically while you worked or the way you actually seemed to be interested in every little tangent he had gone on whenever one of his students brought up a particularly good or amusing point in their papers’. His therapist had recently recommended that he engage in conversations with those not already well acquainted with him and it seemed like the world had lined up perfectly to put you in front of him so soon after.

You loudly slammed your textbook shut with a groan and let your head fall against the table. “Why does academia have to be so boring?” You asked rhetorically, bringing one hand up to pinch the bridge of your nose. “Is it some requirement to get published? Your work needs to put college kids to sleep?”

“The works that you’re reading are quite literally ancient, in their defense. The term ‘academia’ itself comes from the school of thought taught by Plato himself in ancient Athens.” Spencer explained, putting down the paper he had been grading.

“And now, all these years later I have to suffer because Plato was such a bore.” You sighed dramatically, rolling your eyes.

“You said you were studying the downfall of Icarus weren’t you?” He asked, once again unbeknownst to you, he remembered everything you had said today. “It’s one of my favorites of ancient Greek mythology. The power of the mind of man, yet how quickly that very power could be taken away if man oversteps. Really makes us wonder if we’ve overstepped as humans yet, if we use Icarus’s fall, quite literally from grace, as a lens for other devastations we’ve seen across history then-”

“Spencer, are you free tomorrow?” You asked, effectively cutting him off.

He looked a bit like a fish, the way you had stopped him mid sentence and his mouth hadn’t yet closed. His eyebrows turned up, head tilting with them. “Tomorrow? The 14th?”

“Yeah, are you free tomorrow?” You repeated, holding back your nerves.

“Oh.” He said, eyes going wide as you assumed he finally connected the dots, “Oh!”

You were about to speak again, retract your question completely before he could reject you, suddenly wondering why you decided to go out on whim like that at all. But he beat you to it.

“Yes, yes I am.”

------

happy valentines day (almost) i love yall!!

tagging a few people who asked + a few mutuals i think might like this (no pressure!!) - @hqtchner @ssahoodrathotchner @kylorendrip @feverdreamreid @homoose

permanent taglist - @sunflowersandotherthings

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid/you #vday oneshots 2021 #spencer reid #spencer #reid x reader #reid/you #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #'stori writes #are you free tomorrow?#spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid/gn!reader #gn!reader

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evak-fic-rec-turtleanon · 3 years

Text

Evak Fics - Pining

I’m posting half of this list first because I started it a long time ago and it’s taking me a while to go through all the fics. So I will update with more later.

*** Mutual Pining *** Pining - I might put mutual pining under pining if we don't see much of the other person pining. *** Bonus - The pining is not between Evak

For the anon from this ask.

I will try my best to separate out the mutual pining fics but I think it will be tricky if it's not tagged as that. So bear with me and let me know of any mistakes or fics I missed out on.

. First Posting : 11 July 2021. Under 15k fics. .

******* Mutual Pining *******

Even the Illustrator by eavk (SERIES, 3 fics) - An AU where Even’s an illustrator who draws what kids describe to him for YouTube, and Isak is the smitten father of a six year old with a wild imagination.

Postcards by HedwigsTalons (1k words) - Isak's wall is covered in postcards. Isak is supportive of Even's career and he cherishes every postcard but the long distance relationship hurts.

Feelings Come and Go, But Not With You by ultimatelawrence (1.9k words) - It was meant to just be a holiday romance. A fling. Nothing like love. But now it was six months later and Even was still pining over the angel he had met in Paris.

let's pretend into forever by Bellakitse (2.3k words) - “Let me get this straight,” Even starts. “You lied to your boss about having a boyfriend, told her it was me, and now you need me to go with you to your science nerd dinner?”

i will love you until the very, very end (and you were my best friend) by traumatic (2.4k words) - Isak and Even share something in the cool waters of a spring fed pool that no one, not even their fiancées, could ever understand.

Breathe Me by photographer_of_thoughts (4.5k words) - A high school reunion brings Isak and Even together after ten years, and neither of them can forget what happened when they were both seventeen.

Everything comes back to you by MermaidsandMermen (4.8k words) - Light pining. A dribble oneshot for Halloween, full of fluff and Even and Isak and a tiny pinch of angst. Because we need some Halloween fluff. That's all.

Fuck Tha Police by MacksDramaticShenanigans (5.2k words) - “This,” Eskild said, spinning the photograph around so everyone could see it, “is a picture of the latest piece of vandalism from our favorite little street punk.” he finished with a heavy sigh. They are both cops.

i tried to be strong but i lost it (i knew it was wrong, i’m beyond it) (6.3k words) - Even has a thing for his intern, Isak has a thing for his boss, they're both a bit clueless and their friends just want them to get their shit together.

all I see is you by littlemovie (Lejla) (7.4k words) - “Aren’t you gonna ask me why I’m a bad person?” Isak somehow whined and demanded at the same time. Jonas blew out a breath in amusement, which made the dark curls on his forehead move with his breath. “I’m guessing it has something to do with that guy, Even, from the coffeeshop?”

Addicted by endlessandinfinite (8k words) - They’re both completely, overwhelmingly, and incredibly...addicted. Best friends to lovers.

Calleth You, Cometh I by Kollakolan (8.4k words) - “Isak!” Mikaels pipes up. “Didn´t you two have a thing?” he turns to Even. A thing, Even thinks to himself. Yes, Isak and him definitely had a thing. They actually had a low-key thing going for years, but it never really turned into something more. The timing was never right.

In Vino Veritas by Sabeley (9.9k words) - After seven years apart, Isak wakes up to find Even in his bed and a wedding ring on his finger.

Let Me by GayaIsANerd (10.6k words) - Summer brings a lot of things. The smell of sunscreen. The sound of children playing in the shallow part of the lake. The taste of cold beer. The sweet tang of weed. But most importantly, summer brings Isak.

Something Borrowed, Something Blue by BluebeardsWife (10.8k words) - Fake dating AU, you know the drill. Even hires Isak to pretend to be his boyfriend at his ex's wedding. This Means Nothing to Me by cuteandtwisted (10.8k words) - Isak and Even are friends and roommates who don't believe in love anymore (after they both get dumped by other people) until they do. Aka the Friends/Roommates-To-Lovers Don't you let me go by solarpower21 (12.2k words) - In this universe, Isak and Even are roomates and nothing more. Except that there is something more between them and they both know that but are too stubborn to admit it. Too bad it takes a very unfortunate event for them to face the truth. Burn Down The Disco by TheGirlNoOneKnows5 (12.2k words) - A 'Black Mirror: Hang The DJ' AU in which Isak and Even decide to rebel against a futuristic dating system that pairs users up with various people in order to find their perfect match.

La Petite Mort by EvenbechNeiheim (13.4k words) - Even Bech Næsheim is one of those cool and very hot media students at Uni who might just got the task to make a film project. Eskild is the best wingman and things like accidently falling in love with an asshole media student happen. Based on the FIRST KISS YouTube video that gave the internet an entire meltdown.

when your heart is bleeding, i'm coming to get you by orphan_account (13.5k words) - Isak doesn't exactly expect his hookup from last week to be the love advice columnist at the school newspaper he's working at. He also doesn't expect to fall even harder for him than he already has, which is a shame, really, since Even's crushing on someone else.

Heal My Heart for Christmas by iwritetropesnottragedies (recklesslee) (13.5k words) - It’s been ten years since Isak left his small town for the big city of Oslo with his father. He hardly even thought of his time there anymore. Until he received a letter from his mother asking him to come home for Christmas for the first time since he had left.

Love in the Time of COVID: Battlestar Edition by sweetasmaple (14k words) - Isak and Even find each other again during the COVID-19 lockdown, one Battlestar Galactica episode at a time.

******* Pining *******

never seemed so alive by retts (1k words) - Nothing special, just four letters strung together to spell out E V E N but they made Isak's heart race and his face blush and his hands tremble.

Hopeless by waitineedaname (1k words) - Light pining. There was no way in hell Isak would be able to talk to Even. He was tall and cool and handsome, and Isak was pretty sure talking to him would make him spontaneously combust.

i could probably just curl up in you. by milominderbinder (1.3k words) - Isak is away at a cabin with the guys when he gets a text from Even. 'hey, babe, did you take my favourite hoodie?' He is, of course, outraged that Even would accuse him of such treachery. The fact that Isak is wearing the hoodie at that very moment has nothing to do with it.

stuck on you (what did i do?) by itjustkindahappened (1.8k words) - It’s not that Even doesn’t try to be friendly with him—Isak just makes it so hard. Whenever Even approaches, Isak either makes up a fumbling excuse to leave, or just becomes really stiff and refuses to acknowledge Even’s existence.

now and forever (i will be your man) by thekardemomme (2.2k words) -Warning for pain. 3 times isak kisses even +1

i be up in the gym just working on my fitness by orphan_account (2.3k words) - Even knows that he's quite literally going to die when he finds his crush sweating on an elliptical, reading a book with his glasses slipping down his nose.

You know where I stay by nofeartina (2.4k words) - Warning for pain. Isak is so beautiful first thing in the morning. When he still has creases in his face from the pillow, when his face is red and puffy from sleep, his hair all messed up and curly. Even prefers this Isak. This is his Isak, this is only for him.

won't you be my livewire by itjustkindahappened (3.2k words) - "i've been tryin to grab your attention in class for over half an hour by poking you and throwing things onto your desk and you're refusing to acknowledge me and gdi all i wanted to do was tell you that you look cute and now it's gone too far and i can't go back"

Cookies and Cream by GayaIsANerd (3.5k words) - Isak has a crush on the barista. He's too scared to do anything about it, but luckily there's a blizzard coming up.

i can feel the weather in my bones by EvenbechNeiheim (3.7k words) - Isak and Even are childhood friends. There’s a boyfriend sweater and Isak is just desperate to wear it.

On the silver screen by Lokkanel (4k words) - Isak was really not in the mood for this. He had a long week at work, and all he wanted was to relax with his friend, drink a few beers, maybe even smoke some weed and just chill. But no. When Jonas called him to say that he won tickets to the coolest indie film festival in Oslo, Isak knew he could forget his plans for a quiet and simple weekend.

I want to love you (in my own language) by fauu_stine (4k words) - “Okay. Maybe I’m not happy,” he admits in a resigned whisper. “Do you need a shrink discussion or a best friend discussion?” "I think- I think it’s more of a friend with benefits kind of talk."

Don't be an ass by Julieseven (4.1k words) - Even really tried to forget about him. It started out as a harmless little crush, really. He saw him at the karaoke bar SYNG one night, singing "I don't want to miss a thing" at the top of his lungs, clearly drunk out of his mind, but looking like an angel with his messy dark blond locks and crooked smile.

Little Black Book by Laika (4.3k words) - Isak Valtersen is studying his third year at the University of Oslo and having the time of his life. Enter Evy Bech Næsheim, straight out of Nissen, in his stockings, mini skirts and bubblegum scented lip gloss.

cracks in our foundation by towonderland72 (4.8k words) - “You know, like a thousand years ago, men used to wear makeup?” Even asks, as Isak gapes at himself.

Safest With You (Green Curtains) by eavk (5.3k words) - Isak keeps staying up too late studying at the library, but luckily there's an escort service that gives students a buddy to walk with to keep safe at night.

the one with the prom video by thekardemomme (5.5k words) - Even has been in love with Isak since they were younger, but he never intended for Isak to find out this way.

Senses by Lokkanel (5.5k words) - Sight, hearing, smell, touch, taste… Or Even falling in love with Isak, one sense at a time.

you're the one i wanna grey with (5.6k words) - They've only been dating a month, so Isak shouldn't be pathetic enough to miss Even this much when he's only gone for a weekend.

Orion's Nebula by thekardemomme (5.6k words) - Light pining I think. Even Bech Næsheim was enrolled in an astronomy class for one reason and one reason only: the cute ass boy he saw standing in the registration line.

with the taste of a poison paradise by chasingflower (6k words) - It’s routine by now. Isak hangs out with his friends during the day and at night he kisses the Dream-Even that lives on the other side of the door in his living room, and basks in the warm fuzzy feelings he gets as a result of the attention. Coraline Au.

How to Get Your Man - A Plan By Even Bech Naesheim by Evakkk (6.1k words) - When Magnus drops a big secret in front of Even... Even comes up with a brilliant plan to get Isak to reveal his true feelings. All it takes is one little lie, and one crazy family reunion.

To Burn With Desire by photographer_of_thoughts (6.1k words) - AU in which Isak and Even are neighbours and Isak's father has a secret job that unintentionally helps Isak realize he's in love with his best friend.

Watermelon Sugar by MermaidsandMermen (6.6k words) - A little tribute to fruit and touching. To sex, and friendships and finding what you were looking for all along. And of course inspired by Harry Styles latest video offering, just because.

The Fake Boyfriend App by Crazyheart (7.2k words) - AU where Isak is desperately pining for his flatmate Even, and downloads a fake boyfriend app to get over him. When he discovers that the Fake boyfriend is a human, and not a bot, he is sceptical.

That look you give that guy by Lokkanel (7.4k words) - Isak and Even love each other in secret. It is almost thrilling at first, but when hiding and lying to their friends begin to take a toll on Even, Isak decides to end it all. He thinks he has taken the right decision, until Even eventually moves on with someone else.

my longing drives me crazy for you (7.7k words) - Isak's mum worries, Isak makes bad life decisions and Even loves Isak. It's a fake dating au.

I'm Always Here by nofeartina (9.3k words) - “Did you know that Even is working this summer? At that pool at the Plaza?” Jonas says. Isak actually sits up in excitement at this. “Fuck yeah!” Oh, a pool. Actual water they could go swimming in and cool down. And also, Even.

a garden for your love by eggsntoast (9.3k words) - He’s learning to breathe with them, even if he ends up with a floor full of violets by the end of it all. They remind Isak of him, and that’s all that matters. That’s what makes it worse. or: a Hanahaki au ft. Isak heavily pining after Even. Lots of angst.

I wrote an angry letter to the void, and the void responded (9.5k words) - Monday comes, and the book is still there. Isak looks around, content to find the floor practically empty, before giving the book the finger. Fuck that book. - a book finds it's way to Isak's sacred study spot. this proves to be a major distraction.

a constant state of closeness by chevythunder (9.7k words) - “What is it about this dude, anyway?” Elias asks. “You’ve barely even talked to him, right?” “I don’t know,” Even says. “I just got this feeling, you know? Just- I want to make sure he’s okay and safe and… stuff.” - It starts with a hug.

Is This Our Time? by Evakkk (9.9k words) - This is a world where everyone is born with an indistinguishable soulmate mark... it only changes into something recognizable, once you have physical contact with your soulmate, and it's always something meaningful to the relationship. Both partners will bear the same mark. Isak is about to turn 18... and he's the only one in his friend group who still hasn't found their soulmate. But what happens when he goes out one night, gets drunk... and wakes up with his soulmate mark?

Is This What You Wanted? by cuteandtwisted (9.9k words) - Isak is filthy rich and Even is a hardworking male model who just got signed to his father's agency. Even gets an awful offer from Isak: one night with him in exchange for money, and begins to despise him. Little does he know that everything he thinks he knows about Isak is wrong.

Just like in the movies by Lokkanel (10.5k words) - As he began taking in his surroundings, Isak realized he was in one of those small theaters that programmed independent and artsy movies, even old black and white films. He was ready to turn around and walk away when he heard a deep voice say, “Halla.”

my tiny heartbeat in his ear by riyku (11k words) - Now, about a week after the longest day of the year, the empty house across the street has stopped being empty. most beautiful things by scarletbluebird (12.7k words) - This fic is a whole ass journey. Warning for pain. This isn’t a fairytale, Isak tells himself. Even is standing at the bend in the road. He looks like a metaphor for immortal life: the youth a god would kill for. Ambrosia eyes, the universe trapped in the curve of his mouth. He looks like every warning from his mother about strangers you run into after dark.

One week by Lokkanel (12.8k words) - This thing going on between Isak and Even, whatever they called it - fuckbuddies, friends with benefits - was simple, fun, nothing more. They were friends, they were both free to do whatever they wanted with other people. They’d just meet and have sex whenever they felt like it. Simple. Until what was bound to happen eventually did and Even fell for Isak.

Plum by Jamz24 (13.2k words) - Femme!teacher!Even asks masculine! plumber!Isak to fix a broken shower on a scorching hot summer day...And if you think it sounds like the start of a porn film you're absolutely right! There's LOADS of smut but ... with LOTS of feelings

Never be the same by nofeartina (14.2k words) - It starts with a bet - one of those really stupid ones: can they last an entire month without any kind of sex?It’s been 22 days – and Even is dying.

Somewhere I’ve never been by MinilocIsland (14.6k words) - The first time Even meets Jonas' best friend, nothing goes according to plan.

If I Should Fall Behind by MinilocIsland (14.7k words) - The plan for tonight had been crystal clear. Stay close to his best friend, and steal her away if needed. Hold her hand through the ordeal of meeting Noora again for the first time in years. Then Even shows up – and suddenly, nothing goes the way it was supposed to.

All I Ever Wanted by MinilocIsland (14.8k words) - Isak is such a good friend. Probably the best there is. How else could he explain that he's agreed to join Magnus to this place deep in the woods for six full days of silence, meditation, and utter boredom? One thing, he knows. There's nothing exciting for him there. Right? Or: the silent retreat AU.

******* Bonus *******

Season 3: Jonas by Laika_the_husband (WIP, SBB 2021 fic) - There is a scene in the end of the script for season 1, where Jonas and Isak kiss each other on a dare. This story is a retelling of season 3 in a universe, where that kiss happened and completely changed the way Jonas sees Isak. Written in Jonas' POV, the story examines sexuality, love, friendship and coming to terms with never getting the boy you shouldn't have fallen for in the first place.

What the fuck is wrong with me? by notanugget (11.6k words) - The five times isak felt guilty for being in love and the one time he didn’t

thanks for the weed, thanks for everything by evak1isak (13.1k words) - Jokael. Jonas' dealer has moved to Denmark, and Even recommends his friend's weed. What Jonas didn't expect, though, was to develop a crush on a boy, on Mikael.

******* WIP *******

Baby, why do you have to shine so bright? by Lilacpotter - Even knew he was radiant, and he was used to people always wanting to be around him, enchanted by his captivating words and glowing smiles, as if he was the tantalising sun. But then one day, he comes across someone who shines much brighter than the sun itself in Even’s eyes.

Lonely Hearts Club by EndingsNotTheStory - The Hearts Club. A show run by Isak and his 3 friends. He's kind of had enough with hearing about people's relationship issues and giving advice. Until the guy from his theatre class and Isak's totally not crush Even calls, dealing with relationship issues. pining

#evak fic rec #skam fic rec #pining #mutual pining #first half of the list #to be updated

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quietmyfearswith · 3 years

Text

thorned flowers ; andy barber x fem!reader

status — completed oneshot

word count —8,528 words

summary — in which andy barber mourns the loss of his family, until he finds another reason to be hopeful for the future.

warnings —SMUT, DARK THEMES, stalking, drugging (like putting some fertility things in their food and drink, oral (female receiving), unprotected penetrative sex, andy being sad, SOFT!DARK!ANDY, dubious pregnancy/breeding

pairing — soft!dark!andy barber x fem!florist!reader

a/n — DNI IF YOU ARE UNDER 18!,, this is my entry for @imanuglywombat‘s “is that even a sex position” challenge. and the certain position was the special breakfast(you can find it liked in the smut part)... anyway here is the second oneshot for my folklore series! next is either a oneshot for the same series or a preference... feedback is appreciated!

tagging — @la-cey @pedropcl @iloveshawnieboi��

masterlist | series masterlist | join my taglist (please follow the rules)

As Andy drove closer and closer to the graveyard, he felt the sweat from his hands drop onto the steering wheel — making it even more difficult for him to grip onto the leather. The last time he visited Jacob was when they buried him a few months ago; the pain was too much for him to bear, making it difficult for him to go and visit his deceased son — the son he loved, cared for, and protected. The son whom he once had precious memories with was now gone.

It wasn’t that he had fully grieved his loss, but he was getting there. But he didn’t just lose his son in that fateful accident that happened nine months ago, he had lost — or more accurately, divorced — Laurie when she confessed that she still had doubts about Jacob’s innocence and crashed the car for she couldn’t believe the monster her son had become. Every ounce of self-control was used by Andy the moment he got the chance to speak with his ex-wife in the middle of her hearing; every curse word he knew was thrown at her for her brutal actions that led to his untimely death.

Now as he faces the aftermath of every single thing that has transpired over the past months, he couldn’t help but feel empty. Happiness was something he longed for; he once had it all, but a series of events reversed that situation quickly. He would do anything to once again look forward to going home, knowing that he had a loving wife and joyful child; instead of coming home to his house filled with silence and agony for it serves as a reminder of what he once had.

Well, maybe not what he had — it wasn’t perfect and the ideal picture he always dreamt way back then. A fresh start, he thought silently, a new start with someone who can fulfill my dreams.

Parking in parallel, Andy looked to see if there were oncoming cars before going down to enter the flower shop. The soft bell that hung above let out a small chime as he opened the door, his blue eyes scanning the different floral arrangements that were littered across the store. Roses, lilis, orchids, sunflowers — all of them looked and smelt lovely. It made him smile how pleasing to the eyes every bouquet was, making it difficult for him to choose what to get.

“Hi! How can I help you?” A voice spoke up which made Andy turn his attention to the girl wearing overalls who just came from the back room. Once he quickly took in her appearance, though her face sweat a bit and her overalls had patches of greens thanks to the plants, he thought she looked adorable and cleared his throat, “I was hoping to buy some flowers.”

Smiling widely, she wiped her forehead with a towel draped on her shoulder as she said, “I’m happy to help,” She stood by the shelves as she pointed through some flowers, “These have just been arranged today. Oh! And these lilacs and peonies just came in today, too.” Andy couldn’t help but chuckle softly upon seeing how cute her excited state was. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s the occasion or for whom these flowers are? Just so I could suggest a few things to you,” She turned to him after listing some of the fresh flowers she had.

“It’s for my son, I’m visiting his grave today.” Y/N wanted to smack herself; her shop was located less than ten miles away from the nearest graveyard. His gloomy, silent aura should have been a clue on how he was mourning, she thought. “I’m so sorry to hear that, sir. How an arrangement of lilies and roses?”

Following her as she walked towards the opposite side of the store where a shelf containing an arrangement of lilies and roses were displayed. With a nod, Andy confirmed, “I’ll take that please.” Grabbing the vase, she excused herself to move onto the counter. Placing it on the wooden surface, she went to get a watering can to place some more water for the flowers. Wanting to talk with her more, he decided to initiate a conversation, “Slow day?”

Peering her eyes up as she returned the can, she nodded her head a bit, “We’ve had customers, but there’s no rush, you know?” Mindlessly, he bobbed his head up and down as she continued, “Some are for their wives, some for their mistresses — but don’t tell!” She placed her index finger on her lips to make her point and the lawyer couldn’t hold back his laughter anymore and shook his head at her goofiness.

“And you’re the first to buy then go to the cemetery, usually they don’t come this time of the day,” She gasped upon realizing what she said; as she punched in his total she didn’t have time to analyze what she said, “Oh my God, I’m so sorry about that, sir!”

Eyes widening at her apology, Andy wondered why she was saying sorry for, “What for?” Looking down as she played with the denim material of her outfit she muttered shyly, “Well you know, I didn’t mean to bring you up. Or the whole cemetery thing.”

Catching her drift, he nodded and genuinely smiled as he reassured her that he took no offense, “It’s alright, you didn't mean harm with it, yeah?” She nodded as she changed their topic before she could embarrass herself any further, “Your total comes to $26.25; how would you like to pay?”

“Credit,” He curtly replied as he took out his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans; as he was inserting the PIN, he found himself wondering why she suddenly meant all business. Staring at her focused expression which included her lips slightly pursued gave him a faint clue that perhaps she didn't want to embarrass herself any further.

“Here’s your receipt,” She slid the paper across the counter; as she placed her hands on the glass jar to move it closer towards the customer, Andy placed his on top of hers as he too made a move to grab the vase. Surprised with the warmth and spark she felt when their skins grazed against each other, the florist shyly smiled as she moved her hands away from the vase, “Thank you for visiting us, sir.”

“Andy,” He introduced himself as he carried the vase with one arm as the other extended to her direction, offering to shake hands, “And your name is?” She shook her hand as she gave him her name — the lawyer repeating it as he liked how it rolled off his tongue. Disentangling their hands, Y/N fiddled with her hands nervously as the attractive man waved at her one final time as he left the store, not before promising, “Gonna see you real soon, petal.”

Placing the floral arrangement on the front passenger side, Andy couldn’t help but feel giddy with himself as he jogged to the driver’s seat. “Y/N,” He repeated to himself as he began the drive to the cemetery. In their short, yet sweet interaction, he couldn’t help but feel lighter upon meeting her. Could this mean something? He wondered as to why he was feeling this way with her.

Once he found a decent parking spot, he went out of his car with the flowers and walked to where Jake rested. “Hey buddy, how you doing?” Placing the flowers by the stone where his name was engraved, he sat by the grass as Andy looked up in the sky. “I’ve been doing good, I think. Work keeps me busy and I’ve been doing some outdoor exercise as an excuse to get out of the house.”

Picking at the grass as he recalls what has happened the last nine months, “And I think your middle school named something after you. Though I wasn’t paying too close attention to know what it actually was — sorry about that, buddy. But your friend Sarah, she asked for some of your things and clothes. Think she has, or had, a crush on you,” Exhaling deeply as he paused, the lawyer couldn’t help but mourn about the endless possibilities and chances his son would have had if it wasn’t for her.

“Anyway, Laurie has been sending some letters. I don’t if I should read them — part of me wants too, I still want to know if she’s doing well. But there’s this part of me that wants nothing to do with her, because of what she’s done to you, us, and because of what she failed to do,” Hooking his chin on the palm of his hand as he could feel the slight sharpness of his elbow against his thigh, he contemplated a bit, “What do you think I should do, Jake?”

Grass slanted towards the east as sharp gusts of winds prickled Andy’s skin which made him smirk slightly as he looked at the name of his son, “I take that as I need to be the bigger person and reach out to your mother?” When the grass was left unmoving, it was seen as a confirmation that his son did want him to reconnect with her. Nodding to himself, he guaranteed he would do so, “Okay then, Jake. I’ll do so.”

A softer wind brushed and swayed the flowers he bought, making it look even more graceful than it already was — which reminded Andy of the woman he met earlier. “And I met someone earlier, on the way here, actually.” His lips formed into a smile as he thought of how charming and sweet she was as he was being accommodated ; he wondered something out loud, “Do you think I should do uh, what term did you use? Shot your shoot? No, it’s shoot your shot, right?” He scratched the back of his neck as he racked his brain remembering how he’d be teased for finding it difficult to familiarize himself with this decade’s lingo, “Anyway, she just seems so kind and welcoming; and there’s something about her that makes me feel like I could have a second chance at happiness.”

Should his headspace not have been in a remorseful one, he would have found it frightening how it seemed the wind only moved the arrangement of lilies and roses in an almost ludicrous fashion. Whether it was a sign his child had sent him or something his mind was making up, he interpreted it as a sign he should go for it. “Guess I will shoot my shot, Jake.”

Kneeling by the slab of marble, his thumb was rubbing against his son’s full name as Andy sadly smiled, “I love you, buddy. See you soon.” Standing up, he walked away and to his car feeling lighter. Being able to go to his son was progress for the lawyer as he was slowly coming to terms with the events that happened. Reaching out to Laurie was also another way of him acknowledging the past and coming to terms with — and it would probably give him the closure he needed as he ventured on to the future.

The future, he thought, seemed to be brighter right now. And the sole reason why he thought that way was because of someone he had just met. Normally he would be rolling his eyes at the thought of love at first sight; but now things are different since he’s a changed man. Hastily exiting his parked car, he entered through the back door where he discarded his shoes and socks by the doorway. Flipping his laptop open, he opened his browser and searched for the name of the flower shop he visited.

This was far from the usual search engines — like Google or Ecosia — for this allowed him to know every single thing there is to know about what he searched. Usually, he would use this solely for work; and this was the first time he ever used it for his own selfish reason. Not only the reviews, location, and services offered by the flower shop appeared on the screen after a few minutes. The business and clearance permits were shown; but so did the owner's name appear. “Y/F/N,” He read out loud as he highlighted her name and searched again.

Social media accounts, educational background, cell phone number, and her address shown up in an instant. A smile settled on his lips as he took in everything there was to learn about her. Part of him was glad that she didn’t post too much of herself online for he couldn’t see how pretty she was — but he considered it a good thing for it wouldn't attract anymore competition or creeps. Flowers filled her feed and by reading through each and every one of her posts, relief washed over him upon knowing that these were flowers she arranged and were not gifts to her by a beau.

Peeking at her phone records, he noticed how there had been only a few register of incoming and outgoing calls — the fact that her most called number was of a restaurant that delivers had been slightly concerning for him — and digging into her text history, there was no hints that she was in a relationship. As he searched for her address online, it was brought to his attention how she lived not too far from where he was residing, in just twenty minutes he could be over with her. As he closed his laptop it was clear to Andy how perfect Y/N was for him — and that she would be the perfect woman for him to build a family with.

Going to the living room, he grabbed for the letters sent by Laurie. There were a total of four, and until now he hasn’t opened a single one. After reading them he was relieved to find out that she was doing well and that she wasn’t being mistreated by anyone over there. She also has repeatedly apologized for what she has done. Fear and uncertainty were just some of the two overwhelming emotions that affected her decision-making. Sentiments of how she misses their son and long for how they once were.

Grabbing a pen and paper, Andy then wrote his own letter in response;

Laurie,

I apologize for taking too long to reach out to you — it took me a while to come to terms with everything that happened. What you did came as a shock to me. I never knew about how still had your apprehensions about Jacob. I wish you would have talked to me about it, or even to him. Perhaps by doing so things would have been resolved better.

I won’t lie to you so I will just tell you that I believe it was harsh of you to end Jacob’s life like that. He had so much waiting for him — so much potential and fire within him, and to see it all disappear breaks my heart. After his trial ended, I thought of it as a chance for all of us to have a clean slate — granted it didn’t feel like it — and have the chance to redeem ourselves and build another life for all of us. But I didn’t imagine for it to be this way — us divorced while you’re in jail and our son buried six feet under.

Nevertheless, I won’t dwell on what has been. I will focus on the future. Speaking of, I would like to apologize as well for shoving the divorce papers in you. It might seem like a “heat of the moment” decision; but I think we both saw it coming. Having our marriage and relationship built on a lie, it all would have led to this moment — one way or another. It was neglectful of me to lay it on you when you already had your plate full, but I guess there was just really no perfect timing for it either, no?

The frequency of my letters to you might vary, but rest assured I will write to you as much as I can. I hope that you will find peace and safety despite your current situation. I wouldn’t fully say that I have forgiven you for what you did, but I am on the path of reaching that point.

Take care always, Andy

As he folded up the piece of paper and slid it on an envelope, Andy felt lighter. Somehow there this part of him knew how shitty the content was. But that was what he felt. What he wanted to tell Laurie. Sealing the envelope, he then pasted a stamp on it then stood up to place the letter on his coat jacket; that way he won’t forget to drop it off.

Returning to his work desk, he then looked over the information he had collected. Another thing that the letter made him feel was that he has already made closure with his past; and now he can venture on and look forward to the future. And he sees one with Y/N.

Having worked at a flower shop for almost five years, Y/N almost memorized the frequent visitors of the cemetery. She always engaged in polite conversations with them. Another thing is that she noticed a pattern as well. If one visits every week, it was a sign that they have yet to come to terms with the loss of their loved one. Once their visits became less frequent, say with two weeks in between, she took it as a sign that, slowly but surely, they were getting over their grief and sadness. And when the gaps between their visits stretched over a month or so, it showed that they had reached the final stage of grief — acceptance.

That’s why as much as she enjoyed her small talk with the customers — which ranged from their daily activity to workplace gossip — she felt fulfilled for them once their visit became less and less frequent than their initial ones. Besides, there were always new friends that she could make along the way. It just so happens that Andy happens to be one of her potential friends. Having never seen him before and their brief conversation, led her to believe that the death of his son was fairly recent.

“Hey, Y/N,” His warm, deep voice rang through her shop. Fortunately, she was in the front checking the sales so far when he entered. It was exactly seven days after he dropped by her shop on his way to the cemetery — and then her hunch was somewhat confirmed. “Hi, Andy. how are you?”

He carried with him a tray with a couple of drinks — one was his preference for coffee while the other was her favorite kind of drink to start off her day. Placing it on the counter he smiled at her, “Busy day?” Placing down the clipboard she was holding she rested both her hands on the counter, “It was, yeah. Wedding bouquets, centerpieces for events, any occasion you can possibly think of suddenly needed flowers. Not that I’m complaining! But I'm just thankful I’m gonna be having a break in a few.”

Laughing at her dilemma he then casually brought up, “Well I was in the coffee shop earlier and they gave me a spare drink,” Pushing the cup of her favorite drink to her, he offered it to her, “Do you want it?” Not wanting to seem ungrateful, she brought the cup to her nose, she smelt it and was surprised to find out it smelt like her favored drink. Taking a sip a bit, she smiled after she placed it down, “Thank you so much for it, Andy!”

Hiding a smirk, he simply nodded at her as he took a sip out of his own drink too, “I have two orders of flowers for today. White carnations on a small vase, and yellow orchids on one of those small boxes,” He pointed behind her, where mounted on the wall were some packaging ideas for the flowers. Nodding her head, she pushed the hot beverage aside as she got to work.

A slow, melodious song played in the background; and the lawyer just found it even more adorable with how she hummed along to it. While working on his purchases, she shifted her gaze to look at him. However, she quickly turned away due to the intensity of his stare — no one had ever looked at her with so much interest. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” She cleared her throat, as she tried to diffuse the tension. With every move she made while cutting the orchids to fit the wooden box, she could feel his eyes trailing her in an instant, “It certainly is.” Her eyes were focused on trimming up the stems of the carnation, so she missed the way he was looking at her and not on the flowers.

Placing the trimmed up carnations on the vase, she then grabbed for the watering can to fill them up a bit with water. “Here you go, Andy,” She shyly declared as she was done with the yellow orchids and white carnations. Heading over to the cash register to punch in the items, he spoke, “Do you have any plans for the rest of the day?”

Shaking her head no, “That’ll be $45.17,” She turned the card machine towards him, “No plans tonight. Just gonna be staying in. How about you?” After entering the card details he was asked for, he slid his card on his back pocket as he joked, “Well I’m gonna try and stay in with you then.”

Hearing her giggle made him wonder if she realized how serious he was. He truly wanted to be a part of her life; and she didn’t even know the effect she had on him. Handing him the receipt, Y/N watched closely how Andy only grabbed for the white carnations, “Andy? Are you forgetting these?”

As she held the yellow orchids, he shook his head and smiled warmly, “They’re for you. I’ve read somewhere that they represent friendship.” Taken aback with what he said, she nodded her head and confirmed, “They do, yeah.” A hand then reached over as it caressed her cheek before settling it under her chin, lifting her head a bit to stare at his passionate eyes, “And I hope that this is a start of a beautiful one.”

His thumb tapped her jaw softly before letting go and walking out of the store; it was only then that Y/N managed to let out a breath she didn’t realize was being bottled up inside her. Holding the box with one hand as the other patted the flower’s petal, she spoke to herself, “I really hope that it is the start of one.”

“I’m going out with Y/N tonight, Jake,” Andy told his son as he sat on the grass after placing the wonderful arrangement she made near his name. “Well, it’s not really a date. She wrote down on her schedule app that she’ll go to the grocery store today during her break. So I’ll just casually bump into her there.” It was incredible that with today’s technology he was able to even see what was in her phone. Using it to his advantage, he tried to pattern most of his schedule with hers; and so far this was the first one that lined up.

As his legs crossed, his hands were rubbing against his shin while recalling what the past week looked like for him, “I also finally wrote back to Laurie. The letter I wrote might have been shitty but it’s still been a struggle for me to put into words what I feel.”

Like the last time, a cool breeze of wind prickled his skin even as he wore a gray henley, “You’re right. It was harsh. But I’m hoping that as time goes on, I’ll be more of a friend to her.” He once again found himself staring at the flowers and smiled, “I’m gonna be honest and tell you that I was planning to divorce her either way. It just wasn’t working out anymore, bud.”

Memories of their fights that happened in the garage so Jacob wouldn’t have to see them yelling at each other flashed through his mind. “And somehow I can’t help but think that maybe Y/N would have been the perfect stepmother for you. She’s really nice and sweet. Based on what she listens to, I feel like you two would have gotten along well.” Once again his heart aches at the thought of how his son had his future right in front of him, and yet it was all snatched away from him.

Kneeling down, his fingertips brushed against Jacob’s name, “Anyway, gonna let you know how’d the date go next week. I love you, buddy.” Walking to his car, he felt giddy at the thought of going to the grocery store. He never imagined doing something so mundane would make him feel this way.

Noticing that the Oreos had a two for one deal, she didn’t hesitate to grab two packs. Pushing the grocery cart down, she was proud of herself for not getting every snack she craved for. Stay on budget, she reminded herself mentally, you’re saving for that new laptop, remember? And that explained why she’d always buy what was on sale; brand loyalty be damned!

Checking her list, she now had toiletries, vegetables, a small selection of fruits, meat and fish, as well as her snacks and drinks. She even managed to buy rice that was on sale. As her eyes scanned for pasta, she let out a small huff how the last one was at the very top, pushed at the back. Standing on her tippy toes, she tried to reach for it — but as her nails scratched the container, it only pushed the item further away.

Feeling a warm body press against hers as they reached for the box, she turned around and was shocked to see it was Andy, “Here you go.” Grabbing the item from him, she smiled at him after placing it on her cart. “Thanks, Andy. would have ended up climbing my cart just to reach it.”

That’s dangerous! Can’t have you risking your body when it’s soon to be carrying our child, He scolded her in his mind. But what he really told her was, “Well we can’t have that happening; some are gonna think that you’re a die hard pasta lover.” They both laughed at what he said as they both walked. She noticed how he only had a basket with him that was filled with a few personal hygiene products and a reusable bag.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you shop here before,” She’s shopped at this market in different times and days, and not once has she seen his face before. Already having prepared an answer, he smiled, “Well this is further from my home. But it was on the way back, since I did just come from the cemetery.”

Shaking her head as she cursed herself, she turned to him to express regret, “I’m sorry for that. It seems like I always unknowingly bring that up.” Bopping her nose with his finger he reassured her, “Like you said, unknowingly. You didn’t know that it would somehow lead to that — so don’t sweat yourself about it.”

Bashfully, she just kept her head down as she lined up for the cashier. Andy didn’t follow her directly as he opted for the self-service check out. Still, after he was done paying he waited for her at the end of the lane. When he noticed that she struggled to carry her items, she took two of her bags — leaving her to carry only one.

“Andy! Let me get it, there’s no need for you to do that,” She tried grabbing for her bags as they walked out of the market. Bringing the bags to his side so she wouldn’t reach it, he stuck his tongue out, playfully, “No way! Plus these are too heavy for you. So allow me to be a good citizen and carry it for you okay?”

Deciding that it wasn’t worth her time and energy to fight him, she just nodded and began to silently lead him to her car — but what she didn’t realize was that not only did the lawyer know what kind of car she had, but also where she had parked it. “You know it feels like I’m taking advantage of you.”

What she said had him interested as they both neared her vehicle, “And why is that?” Opening the trunk of her car, she placed the bag she carried before reaching over to him and grabbing the ones he brought, “Well you buy flowers from me — and this morning you even gave me one — and then you carry my things like you’re my servant.”

Oh if you only knew, love, he thought to himself. But he smirked at her as he closed the trunk before placing his own bag then resting his elbow on the car, “Well how about a repayment then?”

“Done! Your next order, or orders, of flowers are on me.” Her quick response had Andy laughing, “I didn’t mean for it that way, petal.” The nickname he used had her stuttering for a bit as her brain felt like it was being transformed into a melted mess. “What’d you mean then?”

“How about we text? You know, we exchange numbers and just get to know each other a little better,” For some reason Andy felt nervous as he proposed the idea. Insecurity lingered on his head as he tried to gently weasel his way in. But it brought him comfort when she smiled and nodded, “I’d love that, Andy!” While she grabbed for her phone that was in the pocket of her leggings.

He already had her number registered in his phone, it was only for formality’s sake that he put in his number on her cellular device so as not to raise any suspicion. “I look forward to chatting with you,” She giggled at the term he used, causing him to raise an eyebrow at her. “I just found it silly how you said chatting. It’s silly, really.”

Placing a hand on his chest as he pretended to be offended, he defended himself, “I may not use today’s terms but I sure am a great person to have a conversation with.” Chuckling, she just bopped his nose before heading to the driver’s seat, “Only one way to find out, yeah?”

Nodding, he winked at her before grabbing his bag and heading on over to his car, “Only one way. See you soon, Y/N. Take care on your drive.” As she entered her car, she unlocked her phone and sent out a text to Andy:

take care as well, Andy! thank you once again for helping me out :D ‘til next time!

Placing her phone on the seat beside her, she turned on the engine and was preparing to leave when she heard her phone chime. Surprised with how quickly responded, she then decided to read the message now:

Can’t imagine this will be the last time I’ll be helping you out. (I’m kidding of course! Unless…)

Shaking her head at his goofiness, she began her journey back to the shop where she decided it would be best to not reply to him right away. They’ve only interacted twice but she couldn’t help but find him attractive. He had this charm in him and the way he carried himself was amazing. It also helped that he was pleasing to the eye and quick-witted. Perhaps this could be more than just a friendship; but Andy had already had an entire plan hatched out in order for that to happen.

Andy was having a bad week. He wanted to have gone to visit Y/N on Wednesday since those were the days of when he had previously visited her. Granted, they have been texting throughout the previous week, it still doesn’t compare to seeing her actual face and getting the chance to touch her skin. But having been swamped with work since he was assigned to a massive, imperative case; and now that it was almost being resolved, he thought to unwind and relax. And what better way to do so than spending time with his best girl?

The moment he stepped foot in her floral shop, his sweet, positive attitude he had quickly turned out to be a sour one. “Andy, hi!” Her excited voice made him put on a fake smile, stopping his earlier activity which was piercing daggers through the back of the man’s head she was earlier talking to. Cautiously, he stepped forward to stand behind the till as the man stood off to the side as he held out his hand, “Hey, man. I’m Scott Lang!”

“Scott here just delivered the flowers,” She pointed to the crates of flowers that she has yet to unpack. “Oh? And he’s still here because?” Despite being serious, the two took it as a joke and just laughed it off. Scott even hit his palm against Andy’s muscular bicep as he threw his head back laughing, “Well I was just catching up with Y/N, it’s been awhile since I got assigned to her little shop. And i’ve got a few more deliveries to make, so I’m gonna go ahead.” The relief that the lawyer had when Scott waved goodbye was short lived for he heard him call out to Y/N, “I’ll see you on game night, okay?”

It even pained him when she nodded her head while she placed her elbow on the crate on the counter, “So, Andy, what can I get for you?”

“White chrysanthemums on that white box, please,” Patting down his pants, he shook his head and scowled, “Shoot, I forgot my wallet in the car. Hold on, I’ll be right back.” He didn’t even wait for her reply as he was quickly heading out the door. Looking to his right, he noticed Scott’s delivery trunk and how he was reading something off a tablet as he stood with his back leaned against the door to the driver’s seat.

Scott was taken aback with the sudden force on his shoulders, prompting him to look up from the tablet and on the face of the man he just met, “Andy? What?” The bearded man had his hands pressing onto his shoulders, shoving the delivery man even more into the car’s material, “Stay away from, Y/N.”

“What? What are you talking about?” Leave it to Scott to find the current situation he was in hilarious as he chuckled out his response. Andy, however, didn’t find humor in the situation; the intense gaze his eyes trapped Scott in partnered with the firm grip he had on his shoulders made it clear how serious he was. “You heard me,” He spoke after gulping down the tension he was bottling up, “Stay away from Y/N; she’s mine.”

Breaking into a heartfelt smile, Scott cooed, “Did she tell you about her crush on you? Are you finally together? She has been gushing to me and Hope about how nice and handsome you were being.” At his statement, the lawyer released his solid grip on the man; confused at what he said he questioned, “She said that? Who’s Hope?”

Chuckling at his confused state, Scott playfully hit his arm, “Hope’s my wife! She and Y/N are close friends you know? And my daughter, Cassie, absolutely adores Y/N. We try to have her over as often for game night. We’ve only seen her once in the past few weeks, and she talked our ears off about how great you are!”

Andy could feel himself getting all shy and warm with how his girl was crushing on her; Scott shook his own head as recollection of how dreamy his florist friend was at the thought of this man. And to think he was being the same right now! The expression he had on his face also gave him a clue that two weren;t officially an item yet. With a final nod, he hopped into his van, “Next time I see the two of you, you better be a couple already! ‘M sick of this pining and puppy dog looks of love!”

Laughing out, Andy shook his head as he waved off to Scott who was already driving away. To think that I saw him as a threat, he scolded himself as he began walking back to her shop, when all this time he was a big help.

“Hey! You found your wallet?” She inquired upon seeing his smiling face walking right back in her shop; she thought that he looked even more handsome in that state — there was something about him sporting a boyish look despite looking dignified made her undergarments wet. Nodding, he moved to the counter and admired the arrangement she had made, “Wow! These look wonderful, Y/N. How much do I owe you?”

“Just $19.35. So, you finally got a break from your big case huh?” Tapping his credit card on her machine, he nodded as he let out an exaggerated sigh to which she giggled at, “Finally! I think my back’s starting to ache from all those long hours of sitting down!”

Pushing the floral arrangement to him, she decided to tease him, “You sure it’s not your old age catching up to you?” With wide eyes, he feigned offense as he gasped out loud, “I’ll have you know I am extremely handsome and even look young for someone my age!”

“Don’t I know it,” She mumbled lowly, but still wasn’t soft enough for the lawyer to miss. So he asked her with a smirk etched on his face, “What was that, petal?”

Like a deer caught off guard by headlights, she shook her head, “Nothing! I didn’t say no thing.”

“Well that’s a double negative; so it definitely means you said something,” Both his hands grabbed for one of her hands from across the counter as he held it delicately, “What kind of tree can you fit in your hand?”

Unsure where this was going, she asked, “What? What kind?” Bringing her hand up, he placed a gentle kiss on her palm before answering, “A palm tree, of course!”

Snatching her hand from his grip as he said his joke, she laughed as she teasingly chastised him, “You and your dad jokes, Andy! I swear to God!” Loving how flustered she was, he decided to tease her even more, “Does that mean you’ll call me daddy?”

By now she was a stuttering mess, “Ha, very original, Andy.” Bopping her nose, he bid her adieu as he carried out the arrangement out of her store — walking away with a wide smile on his face. Now feeling more relaxed than ever.

Giddily, he placed the flowers by the top right end of Jacob’s grave as he sat down and told his son, “You’ll never believe what I found out today, Jake!”

Are you busy tonight?

Andy bit his lip in anticipation as he stared at his phone, waiting for a reply. Considering how it was just 3 in the afternoon, he gave her the benefit of the doubt that she was busy with the flower shop — maybe counting her inventory or checking her sales. His blue eyes lit up when she replied:

well depends on who’s asking :P but after work i have no plans…

Perfect, Andy thought. He had enough of waiting and he’d like to think that his plan was working out well. They’ve been texting each other consistently for the past two weeks and whatever she hasn’t told him yet, he already knew thanks to his research. She also began to open up to him and so has he. The more he got to know her, the more he was assured that she was the right person for him to begin a new chapter of his life with.

Would you want to come over for dinner then?

Y/N’s breath hitched as she read his text; she was in the middle of watering her flowers when that invite dropped onto her like a ton of bricks. Over the past few days that they’ve gone talking, she felt herself getting more and more attached to the older man. In her mind she had doubts about if this was just a simple dinner or a proposal for a date — so she voiced out her uncertainty:

i will if you answer my question… is this a date? or just like a simple dinner??

Andy had to laugh at her question — she must have been confused and understandably so. So he decided to smooth things out:

If you’re fine with it, it’s a date. But if you’re not, it can be just a friendly dinner.. No pressure on anything, petal.

Squealing as she twirled around, Y/N had to compose herself before sending out a text:

well looks like we’ll be having a date later, andy… can’t wait to see you!

Thankful that time cooperated as it went by quickly, Andy looked over the table one more time — he lit up candles to make the scene even more romantic, brought out napkins to make it seem even fancy, and added some of the flowers he had bought from here the previous day.

Hearing the knock on his door, he put up a bright smile as he opened the door and greeted her, “Hello, petal.” He stood at the side and let her in. surprising the two of them, Y/N surged towards him and hugged him; but it was a welcome surprise as he too wrapped his arms around her. “Missed me too much, hm?”

She could only hit his arm lightly as she shook her head. Sliding her coat off her body, he hung it on his coat hanger and guided her to the dining room. “Smells great in here. Is that,” She trailed off and looked intently where Andy removed the cover of the pot to reveal her favorite meal.

“My favorite!” She gasped out loud excitedly, “Are you a mind reader, Mr. Barber?” She squinted her eyes suspiciously at him. “Well that is exactly what I am, petal! How did you find out?” Though she took it as a joke, Andy knew better that it wasn’t her mind that she read; instead it was her entire online profile that he monitored.

With that, they began dinner that was filled with laughs and chatter. It seems that despite their difference in age, they always found something to talk about. “Wait, so you really hid your cousin’s clothes in the freezer?”

Nodding her head, she drank the last bit of the wine before answering, “She had it coming her way! She told me I had no chance of marrying Harry Potter!’ There was a baseless jealousy forming in the pit of Andy’s stomach, but he reminded himself that it was just her silly, childhood crush.

“Let me help you with that,” She offered once she noticed that Andy was clearing up their plates. Waving her off, he shook his head as he told her, “You’re my guest — more accurately, my date,” At the reminder of that, she looked down on the floor and Andy smirked, “Why don’t you go wipe off the table instead?”

Nodding, she proceeded to do so as a pleasant silence hung over them; Andy loaded the dishwasher as Y/N wiped off the table. Heading to the trash bin, she threw the trash and the paper towels she used —leaving her to stand beside Andy.

“Look at you, like a real housewife,” His comment had her taken aback. She didn’t know why, but part of her was delighted in the idea. “My, Andy, this is just our first date and you’re already thinking of marriage? What’s next? You wanna knock me up with your kid?”

Oh petal, you have no idea, do you? Andy smirked mentally, but his hands circled around her waist as he laid a gentle kiss at her nose, “And if that is my long term plan?” Pursing her lips, she could only tilt her head down; though it might be too soon for what he had said out loud, there was a tiny part of her that wanted that.

Lifting her head up with a hand, he smirked down at her, “I’m guessing you do want that, do you, petal?” She gave a slight nod which only fuelled Andy’s lust as he kissed her feral, leading her to walk backwards onto the dining table. She gasped as she was being lifted up to sit on the mahogany; granting the lawyer access to let his tongue enter her mouth. He groaned upon relishing the sweet taste that was her while his nimble fingers brutally tore the fabric of her shirt, “No bra? Why petal, were you hoping the date would end this way?”

She shook her head but quickly stopped as she let out a moan when she felt his lips and teeth nip at the skin of her breasts. Her hands clawed at his hair as he sucked on the nipple. “God these will fill up with milk,” He groaned out, but it was too indistinct for her hazy brain to fathom.

His lips trailed down to her stomach as he groaned against the flesh of her stomach, “Such a glorious stomach.” Upon feeling the coarse hairs of his beard, she giggled against him which allowed her to miss his husky moan of, “Gonna swell up with my seed.”

“Andy, please,” She moaned when his lips pressed kisses along the hemline of her pants. “Since you asked so politely,” He hastily shoved off her pants and panties in one go as he placed her thighs to rest on his shoulders, lifting her slightly off the table, while she planted her elbows firmly on the table. “Fuck!” The cuss she let out was dragged out caused by Andy furiously licking from her clit to the opening of her pussy. Her thighs trapped his face firmly, the rough texture of his beard contradicted his silky tongue lapping at the inside of her tight cunt.

“Can eat you all damn day, petal,” He caught the juices she was leaking with every flick of his tongue as his left hand rubbed on her hardened nub; while the other hand lowered his sweatpants until he was able to stroke his erect cock. Feeling her walls close in on his tongue, he smirked as he drove his tongue deeper inside her and rubbed her until she mewled out loud, “Fuck, Andy! I’m cumming!”

His beard was splattered all over his lower face, coating his beard. With a few more final licks, he let her legs fall from his shoulders and hang limply by the edge of the table. Standing up from the dining chair, Andy quickly removed his gray shirt as her hands weakly, but successfully, slid his sweatpants off legs. Her hands jerked his length while looking into him with desire, “Gonna fuck me real good, Andy?”

Loving the way she sultrily said it, he kissed her lips roughly as he pushed her by the hips, closer to the edge of the table. His right hand guided his cock to slide right in her, their tangled tongues moaned out loud upon being intimately connected. She tried to rut her hips against him, wanting to feel more of him. “Oh petal, let me do it for you.”

Both his hands settled on her thighs, using them as leverage to match his harsh thrusts as he slid in and out of her tight canal. Her walls gripped onto him tighter every time he slid back in, making him groan against the skin of her neck. The sting of her nails as they raked down on his back only added to his pleasure as it motivated him to plow her harder and faster, until she felt his tip hit her sweet, sensitive spot.

“‘M so close, Andy,” She whined, accentuating her point by digging her nails into his shoulders. Maybe it was the way she was piercing to his skin, or the way was falling apart under him beautifully, or the fact that he felt confident that after this she was going to be carrying their child, but it drove him feral which was evident when the table moved and shook in time with his relentless thrusts.

“Open that fucking cervix for me, petal,” He moaned out as his hand rubbed her swollen clit, “Let me shoot my seed in you.” Perhaps in the proper mindset, she would have viewed it as a red flag — bringing up marriage and having kids at the first date would have freaked her out. But in the heat of the moment, she found herself submissive and compliant with all his desires.

Her hands pushed his back closer to her, making her rub her stiff nipples against his chest as she begged, “Please, Andy. Cum in me.” And just as she moaned out the last word, she could feel her body tense as she clenched on his cock and cum at the thought.

Smirking, he continued his harsh assault on her pussy as pinched her clit to milk out more of her orgasm. Gasping out, she tried to restabilize her breathing — which was a challenge given that Andy was grunting wildly as his thrusts slowed down while the force remained. Feeling his cum fill her up surprised her, but she didn’t protest it.

Carrying her over to his bedroom, Y/N could feel herself getting tired from their activities. She willed herself not to close her eyes, but sleep seemed so enticing. The way Andy rubbed her back and lay her down on the bed gently didn’t help either. The lawyer smiled upon seeing the peaceful expression on her face; he kissed her forehead before reaching over to the nightstand and fish out the plug he bought and cleaned for her.

The plug was snug inside her as he slid his cock out. Laying down beside her, he cuddled her as he stared at her features, “I just know you’re gonna be pregnant, petal,” Her breathing was even and her closed eyes gave him the impression she was now falling asleep, “I checked your period tracker app, you should be ovulating now. Plus, I have been slipping some vitamins in your food and drink to help make you even more fertile.”

Wiggling around, his breath hitched when she nuzzled her face even more to his chest, “Goodnight, Andy,” Plus a kiss to his chest made his heart swell up even more. Smiling despite the joyous tears leaking in his eyes, he kissed her forehead once more before bidding her goodnight as they both slept.

“Here’s to new beginnings, petal.”

#quietmyfearswith #please dont steal my work thank you #andy barber x female reader #andy barber x reader #andy barber x fem!reader #dark!andy barber x reader #dark!andy barber x fem!reader #andy barber x florist!reader #andy barber x reader smut #andy barber x reader fluff #andy barber x reader angst #dark!andy barber x you #dark!andy barber x reader smut #dark!andy barber x reader fluff #dark!andy barber x reader angst #soft!dark!andy barber x reader

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sadp0tat00 · 3 years

Text

NAV- By Member (Min Yoongi)

This is where I sort my ficrecs by member, all fics are (x reader) unless stated otherwise, personally I don’t really like reading mxm fics cos im basically a delusional y/n but sometimes i ran out of xreader, gave in, and actually found some good fics. (updated: 17 May 2021) moved from @ksjmlizt cos i’m a dumbass and can’t figured out how to use tumblr’s sideblog

Category: Angst (A), Fluff (F), Smut (S)

Status: ✔️ completed, or 🔛 ongoing, or 🛑 discontinued/ haven’t been updated for more than a year

disclaimer: these fics are not mine. I’ll tag the authors and you guys should go check their other works💕

Series:

Kitten's Little Flame by @magicalsalamander ✔️(6/6)

Hybrid AU, Children BTS ♥︎ A, F, S

You (cat hybrid) have transferred to a new elementary school because your parents have moved towns. You start your new kindergarten class and meet other hybrids, but one special one catches your eye, Yoongi, the dragon hybrid. How will you manage this new environment?

A Wish Out of Water by @jimlingss ✔️(2/2)

Genie!Yoongi ♥︎ F, A (very heavy angst towards the end IMO)

A genie could solve all your problems. Though you wouldn’t even know exactly what to ask for - money, a warmer house, a better job, a better life? But Min Yoongi is no ordinary genie. He’s here to make your life a living hell. Too bad it was hell to begin with.

The Truth Between Us by @jimlingss and @gukyi ✔️(7/7)

e2l AU, fic-ception ♥︎ A, F

a book deal should be the most exciting time of your life, but there seems to be a constant and omnipresent damper on your mood in the form of a certain min yoongi, who you would just cut out from your life, if he weren’t your editor. but then, the world shifts beneath your feet, and you begin to wonder if maybe you’ve always been looking at life from the wrong angle.

Cat's Cradle by @whitesparrows97 ✔️(5/5)

Hybrid AU ♥︎ A, F, S

Yoongi is your best friend – and your lovable and not at all grumpy cat hybrid, who lives with you under the same roof. He despises your boyfriend Namjoon and makes sure the human gets to feel that. A fight between you unfolds and from then on everything can only go downhill.

Of Fire and Love by @hollyhomburg 🔛 (7/9)

Fantasy AU, Dragon!Yoongi ft. Baby!Jungkook, Baby Dragon!Hoseok ♥︎ A, F, S

When Dragon Yoongi finds baby Jungkook in the wreckage of a house he burned down, he can’t bring himself to kill the child. Months after someone drops off a baby at your door, you start to notice something- or someone, lurking at the edge of the woods.

Silver Spoon by @happy-meo ✔️(9/9)

Office AU, Rom-com ♥︎ F

Having been born and raised in the country side, you have worked hard your entire life to make it to the big city. You eventually achieved your dream and now you have a wonderful paying job for a large company and you continue putting your 110% into everything you do. However, your perfect plan to climb to success through consistent effort and hard work becomes disarrayed with the arrival of your branch’s new rebellious and easy-going CEO, who never desired the position in the first place and has never truly worked hard a day in his life. Your job is on the line if he can’t be turned into a quality CEO within a year, but he has no intention of changing himself for anyone or letting you boss him around so easily. How will you work your way through this obstacle? Will you succeed in changing him or will he be the one that changes you?

Greedy by @xjoonchildx 🔛 (5/?)

Mafia AU, pining ♥︎ A, F, eventual S

being a loner has never bothered yoongi until now. until you.

Oneshot:

Love Grows Where You Go by @hueseok

Arranged Marriage AU, Pining AU, Tsundere!Yoongi ♥︎ A, F, S

determined to make you and yoongi grow closer for your upcoming wedding in two weeks, your parents plan a trip for the both of you that lasts five days long. you know you should be ecstatic about it, considering your longtime crush on your fiancé, but by how you’re positive that he secretly despises your whole being, you don’t find this mini vacation with him something to look forward to. that is until things take an unexpected turn and suddenly, he makes it apparent he doesn’t hate you at all as you reckoned.

Make me by @ppersonna

pwp, filthy fluff lol ♥︎ F, S

an ordinary sleepover with your best friend turns into anything but ordinary, thanks to your ridiculously loud neighbours above you.

Demon!Yoongi Drabble by @jungshookz

Halloween AU ♥︎ F, S

All I Want for Christmas by @hayjeon

Single dad!Yoongi, CEO!Yoongi, Secretary!reader ♥︎ F

Hold Me Tight by @floralseokjin

Established Relationship AU ♥︎ A

the end of a relationship comes slowly but suddenly

Something to hold on @fantasybangtan

Single dad!Yoongi, Christmas AU ♥︎ A, F

it’s not that you don’t like your job. on the contrary, reading bedtime stories to a certified little princess is something you still can’t believe you get paid to do. it’s just that between all the school runs, snow days and secret second hot chocolates before bed, you may fallen a little too hard for those dimpled cheeks and gummy smiles…. worse still, you’ve fallen for her father too.

Yoongi as Neuroserugon

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kiruuuuu · 3 years

Text

Protection Mountain: The Finale⛰️

Yes. It is here.

Montagne/Bandit conquered my heart so quickly with what was meant to be a oneshot, then turned into a small series of oneshots, and ended up as my longest series in Siege. And now their main story is coming to an end. I would like to thank absolutely everyone who participated in this journey, be it through direct messages, magnificent art, shared ideas, comments, reblogs, likes, the simple act of reading and enjoying - you helped make this happen, you motivated and encouraged me. Thank you for falling into this bottomless hole with me 💖

A special thank you goes out to @ekhap, who commissioned this piece in the first place - without you, it’s likely I never would’ve written it. I’m so happy you enjoyed it, and I hope all of you who stuck around long enough to read this will too.

I have actually managed to post the entire series on AO3 as well, so you can comfortably read (or re-read) it here!! And without further ado, here is the final chapter of Protection Mountain. (Rating T/M, hurt/comfort + a ridiculous amount of fluff, ~8.5k words)

“I’m leaving tomorrow”, says Madeleine, voice soft and always a reprieve from the harsh reality of the hospital room around them. “I don’t think coming back will be necessary this time.”

Montagne squeezes her hand, making her smile.

She’s been juggling family and career for her entire life and right now is no different: on slower or off days, she hops on the train to visit, taking the opportunity to report on some local stories on the way, utilising her travel time to write up or edit her pieces. A busy bee, always worried about being overshadowed by her older brother. They haven’t seen each other this much for years and though the occasion could be merrier, Montagne is fiercely grateful for her presence. He’s unloaded some of his worries onto her and she onto him, and somehow they ended up lighter than before. Tourés tend to stick together, given the opportunity.

“Why do you say that?”

“You might not realise, but you’re looking much better, Gilles. You’ll be let loose on the world again soon.”

They exchange a quick grin over her choice of words. She’s certainly more of a menace to society than he is, and they both know it.

Next to her, Lion is sitting in a second chair, rigid. He’s confessed to Montagne in private that Madeleine reminds him of his mother – whatever that might entail – and so he’s unfailingly awkward around her, probably ruing the fact that they happened to drop by at the same time today. Dealing with strangers isn’t usually a problem for him; dealing with family of friends, however, is.

Apparently, Bandit won Madeleine over immediately, surprisingly enough. She says it’s his horrific German accent whenever he attempts to speak French and his deadpan humour, but Montagne is relatively sure she senses a bit of how much Bandit cares for him. Tourés are also protective of each other, siblings even more so. She wouldn’t have told him a thing about Montagne’s current condition if she hadn’t thought his worry genuine.

And then, out of the blue: “Cathérine called me.” She still sounds conversational, but her gaze becomes a tad more attentive.

Montagne stills.

Lion’s gaze is jumping back and forth between them, the man even more uncomfortable now.

It’s the last person he expected Madeleine to mention, so he needs a second to compose himself. “What about?” He tries to search for emotions, for any kind of reaction to encountering his wife’s – ex-wife’s name, but comes up empty. It’s like hearing about an old, lost friend of his: someone who once used to be important enough to be mentioned in his will, now someone who barely counts as a remnant in his thoughts.

“You, of course. Maman tattled and, eventually, it reached her. She wanted to know how you are and whether contacting you directly is a good idea.”

“And your reply?”

“I said I’d ask you.”

He nods, thankful. During their divorce, too many people presumed what would be best for either side instead of addressing them directly. It didn’t feel like their own private business anymore, somehow it affected everyone and so everyone was entitled to an opinion and a listening ear. He appreciates Madeleine allowing him this kind of control. “I don’t think she has my current number. Please give it to her and let her know I’d be happy to talk.”

And that’s that. They kiss cheeks and do a half-hug, exchange verbal pleasantries which are nonetheless heartfelt, and then she and her mild perfume are gone, leaving behind a slightly relieved-looking Lion.

“You do look a lot better, you know”, he confirms Madeleine’s earlier assessment, and though he seems intent on changing the topic – for him, family is still a sore topic most days –, Montagne’s mind lingers. Vague memories form a blurry whole, the image so distant it may well originate in a film he once saw or a book he once read.

Catou used to be his entire world and there were days he was convinced he couldn’t go on if she were to leave him. Yet time, the wound-healer, sometimes corrodes instead – and in their case, it must’ve mistaken their passion and devotion for sickness, for it cured them. They noticed before comfort turned into indifference, but only barely. By the time they decided on breaking up, another man was involved as well, though Montagne assigns him no blame whatsoever. Until their divorce was finalised, Catou kept her friend at arm’s length and he never even attempted to get any closer; but while she didn’t allow herself to fall in love again until Montagne openly gave his blessing, he could see the seeds growing already.

Neither of them cheated, he knows this for a fact. They’d never. He noticed how she became aware of the possibility of being with another man after a few of their long talks which denoted the beginning of the end, and while it hurt, he vowed not to stand in her way. If he couldn’t support her, he at least didn’t want to hinder her.

What hurt the most wasn’t any misguided feeling of betrayal or even jealousy, no. It was the realisation that he simply didn’t suffice. He gave her his everything and it turned out it wasn’t enough.

Maybe this is why he won’t accept Bandit’s proposal: the creeping fear of committing fully and finding it to have been in vain.

“You never spoke about her.” His friend has indubitably noticed his mood by now, or maybe the lack of response gave it away.

He supposes he hasn’t. Neither to Bandit nor to Lion, actually, not even when the topic had strayed to Claire and Alexis. “There isn’t much to say”, he summarises well over a decade of companionship, eroded and erased slowly by the very thing which tainted it in the first place: time apart. “We fell in and then out of love. She was a remarkable woman. She deserves someone who can keep up with her.”

Lion fidgets a little, avoids eye contact. Montagne’s words might’ve struck a chord but he’s too exhausted, too restless to talk it out. Madeleine’s statement has given him hope that he can leave soon, leave Bandit’s birthplace behind, hopefully to return and make happier memories in the future.

His friend’s next question catches him off guard. “Why did you marry her?”

It’s so much out of character for him to ask that Montagne needs a few seconds to come up with a reply. “I loved her, with all my heart. I expected to spend the rest of my life with her. Why do you -”

“Then why are you saying no to him?”

Montagne stares, shocked. The slight petulant undertone, the hint of defiance, the blunt accusation – Bandit himself could’ve posed the question, and it’s not for the first time Montagne realises how alike the two of them really are. But what leaves him utterly dumbstruck isn’t the implication of Lion approving of a marriage between them, no, it’s the fact that he can’t come up with a reasonable answer.

At least not one which doesn’t sound like an excuse.

He must’ve realised the impact his words have left behind, so Lion swiftly changes topics yet again, allowing for Montagne to recover and respond to a few simple inquiries, but nothing really manages to soften the blow.

~*~

There’s a reason he chose le Roc over more modern, flashier, possibly more efficient alternatives.

When he was younger, he used to hide his height by slouching, felt embarrassed by the fact that he’d stick out due to something he neither chose nor controlled – as a tall, muscular man, he’s perceived as intimidating or, worse, a challenge. He reacted to mentions of his physique with sheepish smiles and laughed it off when people referred to his ability to beat up whomever he liked, portraying it as enviable.

It took him a while until he began seeing his build as an advantage. It took friends confessing they felt safe with him around. Acquaintances appreciating his company during the dark. His soon-to-be wife admiring his drive to put his stature to good use. Ultimately, it influenced first impressions only, a quick glance upwards, but as soon as people heard him speak gently, noticed his aversion to unnecessary violence, be it verbal or otherwise, they forgot about his impressive physique immediately.

Like le Roc, it’s a shield. He utilises his own body to protect others and has subconsciously done so his entire life, be it to separate his little sister from her bullies, friends from aggressors, or even two agitated strangers: he absorbs the blows which to him are no more than light punches whereas they could cause more harm on their intended victims. He’s been likened to a mastiff and their instinctual drive to break up fights by simply standing in the way.

Like le Roc, it’s an asset. And like le Roc, it can get damaged.

What he hadn’t realised is just how much he relies on his body to function exactly the way he needs it to.

His life is his job, they’re irredeemably intertwined, and imagining one without the other is … nigh impossible. His mind struggles to come up with alternatives – helping others is in his essence, but picturing himself working in a nursing home maybe or a school, a community centre, is madness to him. Catou had been very involved in these kinds of projects, volunteered wherever there was a need, and while he saw the good she did, the joy she spread, she had a certain soft touch he simply lacks.

He’s a mountain. He can kill and besiege and protect and recover and rescue, but the thought of being responsible for children not his own, or the well-being of elderly people, terrifies him. A small mistake, a brief distraction could prove fatal. He’s trained for combat.

He needs to recover.

Sometimes, he wakes up and can’t feel his limbs. He hasn’t stood on his own two legs for who knows how long. Movement hurts, lying down hurts, existence hurts. But what hurts most is the prospect of never returning to the work he’s destined for.

No one is allowed to catch a glimpse of his frustration as he feels it’s ungrateful, possibly even malicious. Not only should he be elated over having survived at all, it would also imply he regrets having taken the actions he did, and nothing could be further from the truth. Saving Lion was inevitable; he just wishes he could’ve gotten away with less serious injuries. He wishes so fiercely. Bottling up his anger is destructive and being fully aware of how irrational his behaviour is merely continues the spiral of negativity, yet he’s powerless to change it. The people closest to him are still processing the shock of almost losing him and don’t need the added burden of his dread for his own future.

He wonders whether Bandit is repulsed by him. Aside from his atrophied muscles, he’s lost weight, there are the burns which will likely mark his body for the rest of his life, another ugly scar on one thigh where he’s been stitched up. His skin is discoloured in multiple places and he vividly remembers the way Madeleine winced when she visited him the first time. He already doesn’t consider himself overly attractive, so he must seem frightening. It doesn’t help that Bandit distanced himself the way he did at first – though it was likely the shock affecting him still.

Recently though, his lover has been doing much better. He’s been doing amazing, actually: when Bandit isn’t visiting him, he’s out and about, meeting with friends from the GSG9, eating at exotic restaurants, working out, keeping himself entertained. He keeps messaging Montagne, sending photos of dogs he meets or particularly tasty dishes they need to cook together (or rather attempt to), and every line of text lightens his heart. Bandit even keeps Six and Blitz up to date, informing Doc of Montagne’s condition unprompted, and converses with Madeleine as best he can. Of course, there are bad days sprinkled in now and then, days on which his gaze is endless and unfocused, days on which Bandit is either taciturn or won’t stop talking about unrelated things so Montagne can’t ask him how he’s doing. Recovery isn’t fast or linear, Montagne knows this.

He’s so goddamn proud nonetheless.

And even though seeing Bandit flourish, having watched him pick himself back up and carry on where he left off, witnessing the man he loves with all his heart succeed over this void in his chest once again causes Montagne’s chest to swell in pride and adoration, there’s a bitter note to it. An out-of-tune note, a scratchy, unpleasant one. Because Montagne believes he knows the reason for Bandit’s sudden motivation to improve his existence. And it’s not for its own sake, not for Bandit’s own benefit alone.

Montagne remembers stewing in his own thoughts, fighting the urge to call himself useless, agonising over what might become of him, and there’s no way Bandit didn’t catch him wiping his face when he burst into the room that one day a while back. He must’ve noticed how red Montagne’s eyes were, unusually red. He must’ve realised how fucking weak Montagne is. And probably decided it was his turn to take care of his love.

The next day, Bandit announced having joined a local gym for the time being, as well as his intention to watch a film by himself later. It can’t be a coincidence.

There’s nothing worse for Montagne than being a burden.

~*~

Bandit’s energy is enviable. It seems he’s attempted to prepare for every scenario imaginable: he’s washed all of Montagne’s clothes, bought a variety of snacks and pastries, piled magazines on the bedside table, purchased all kinds of toiletries and remedies including a remarkably well-stocked first aid kit, arranged lush-looking fruits on the small desk of their hotel room, and even produces ear plugs and a sleeping mask the moment Montagne mentions feeling vaguely tired.

It’s hard not to get swept up in the atmosphere his lover creates, especially when his own chest seems unusually light compared to the weeks prior – he’s elated to be discharged from the hospital, even if all kinds of other worries creep up on him during moments of quiet. Being able to return home is a wish he harboured without realising: he thought all he needed was distance from the very place that so consciously reminds him of his own frailty, but it turns out privacy and a new environment don’t suffice, not even close. Sharing a space with Bandit and Bandit only is an immense improvement, yet he longs to sleep in his own bed, feel like he belongs instead of being a perpetual guest. Still, he’s grateful for the spacious hotel room, some peace and quiet, and the assurance that no one is going to randomly check up on him anymore.

Except for Bandit, of course.

Maybe it was Madeleine’s comment which inspired him, or maybe he hadn’t realised how much he’d recuperated already, but once his sister had bidden farewell, his condition improved fast. It culminated two days ago, when Bandit entered his room to find him awkwardly holding on to the bed frame but standing, fully upright with no outside help, due to his own strength. He half expected to be scolded, though his weakness must’ve taken its toll on Bandit as well because all he did was burst into tears from happiness.

Montagne very nearly joined in.

Six arranged a flight directly once she received the message, paid for a wheelchair without batting an eye and ordered him to take it easy nonetheless. His leg will take a while to heal and the broken ribs forbid the use of crutches, so Montagne dutifully agreed and thought he could hear her smiling over the phone. He missed her curt, professional yet caring attitude, and it seemed she’d be glad to see him again as well.

All of which is why he’s allowed to spend his last night in Germany’s capital in the very same hotel room he occupied before it all fell apart. The life before tastes like honey, sweet and much too rich, thick in his throat and welding his mouth shut: how much he took his health for granted baffles him. How careless he was. How ungrateful. He longs to get back to lazy evenings with an oversized cat purring on his chest, to the chaos of messing up yet another recipe, their light-hearted bickering, not a care in the world. He’s desperate to return to it, without that creeping feeling of guilt over turning Bandit down for a mixture of sentimental, inadequate reasons he can’t even explain to himself. He lacks the words to express why the image of swapping rings or – heaven forbid – inviting his entire family to a big ceremony fills him with nothing but dread when instead he should be exuberant. Flattered, maybe.

“Do you want to shower?”

Bandit reminds him of a puppy, easily distractible and well-meaning, radiating pent-up energy. Montagne regrets having to refuse him anything. “No, I’d rather just read a bit and sleep. I can shower at home tomorrow.”

His lover very nearly pouts. “Are you saying I have to find another excuse to touch you all over?”

Montagne’s chuckle almost gets stuck in his throat. He’s not ready yet and has been racking his brain for reasons why they can’t sleep in the same bed, or why he won’t be able to undress at any point. He’ll have to deal with this eventually, but his foolish mind has convinced him he’ll be able to postpone it indefinitely if only he manages to use his injuries as a pretext.

If he wasn’t so fucking terrified, he’d call himself childish.

There’s no doubt Bandit has made an effort to tidy up the room, yet there are unmistakeable traces of his prolonged stay everywhere – the overflowing suitcase, tissues poking out from under furniture, too many cables for too many electronic devices carelessly strewn about. Housekeeping probably gave up after two weeks and resigned to only vacuum wherever possible and change the bedsheets, and the thought of exasperated staff dealing with the stubborn git he missed like hell makes him smile. He’s heard stories from various nurses and highly enjoyed Bandit’s redemption arc of starting out as a nightmare and turning into the highlight of their days. If he saw correctly, Bandit even bought them flowers. He must be very proud of his newly discovered move to weaken grudges.

“Wanna get on the bed?”, Bandit interrupts his thoughts a little too casually, so Montagne eyes him with suspicion.

“Do you want me to get on the bed?”

His better half purses his lips, probably considering whether it’s worth pretending like he has no idea what Montagne means (and oh, he hasn’t even considered this prospect, they’ll be finally alone and undisturbed, and despite his aversion to show any part of his skin, his body expresses some interest in the scenario) – but Bandit still manages to surprise him by muttering, almost embarrassed: “I just really want to cuddle right now.”

It’s disarmingly adorable, and Montagne’s heart melts. “Let’s do it, then”, he agrees. There’s some awkwardness in manoeuvring him out of the wheelchair and onto the much-too-soft mattress, but Bandit is stronger than he looks and able to provide enough support. As soon as Montagne sinks into the plushy pillows and Bandit presses himself against his side, all tension suddenly vanishes: his muscles relax, his thoughts calm down, his skin stops prickling. He hadn’t been aware how much he missed simple contact like this, the heat of another body against his own, the blissful feeling of being safe, being home, being loved.

This tiny bubble of everyday life suffices to soothe his cracked soul. He wishes he could wrap around Bandit fully, envelop him whole, drag him onto his chest, pull him into his arms – even offering his shoulder for Bandit’s head to rest on would help with his burning desire to be as close to him as possible, but for the moment he can’t. Not without considerable pain. Still, Bandit’s hand has slid into his, their fingers interlaced, and a gentle, regular breath caresses his cheek. Now and then, Bandit nuzzles him, presses a kiss to his cheek, sighs in contentment. They could stay like this for eternity.

And yet, Montagne’s guilt prohibits him from letting go completely. He has rejected this man. Refused to accept him into his life fully.

“If you wanna watch something, I pirated eleven films we haven’t seen”, Bandit murmurs against his jaw and makes him chuckle.

“I remember the hotel’s internet being unreliable. Don’t tell me you used public Wi-Fi? Mark would be horrified.”

“Yeah sure, I just sat down in the nearest McDonald’s and downloaded a hundred gigs of illegal stuff.” Bandit’s grin is boyish and attractive and so cute Montagne just wants to burn the image into his brain. “Better, actually – I asked one of the boys to do it. So we conspired together.”

“Are you going to miss them?”

Bandit thinks about it and eventually shrugs his shoulders. “Sure. It was nice seeing them again. But I think I miss everyone at Rainbow more. I haven’t been apart from everyone this long… ever, I think. Since I joined.” There’s more on his mind, Montagne can tell, so he waits and peeks down at the dirty blonde hair, the wild beard. Apparently Bandit decided shaving was too much of a hassle, so he gave up on it completely for the time being – and Montagne wholeheartedly understands. If he could grow one, he definitely wouldn’t be running around with naked cheeks.

After a while, Bandit adds, quietly: “I did visit Cedrick.”

Montagne wants to smack himself. How could he forget that Bandit’s twin still lives in Berlin? And while he’s proud of Bandit for taking the initiative and seeing him of his own accord, Montagne feels that he himself could’ve raised the possibility sooner. He knows they’re close, as close as any family member could ever hope to be with someone as fickle as Bandit, and he probably would’ve done wonders for Bandit’s psyche. “How is he? How is his family?”

“Good. They’re good. Gave me too much food, as usual. His wife got a promotion recently and the boys are doing great in school. They want to go to university later, imagine that. The first Brunsmeiers to go to uni.” Bandit glances up at him. “I also told them about you.”

There it is. He must’ve been dying to tell Montagne, judging by his pink cheeks and nervous fidgeting, and his demeanour as much as his words conjure up a bright smile on Montagne’s face. They had an unspoken agreement, an implied promise that they wouldn’t tell their families until they’re ready, which meant until Bandit was ready – coming out to friends was a big step, coming out to Rainbow a massive hurdle, and coming out to his family must’ve been a mountain to climb. His comfort zone has been steadily expanding, yet actions like these still turn Bandit into a skittish cat sometimes.

For someone with commitment issues like this, it’s incredible that Bandit decided for them to get married.

“Dom, mon amour, I am so proud of you.” He kisses Bandit’s temple and smiles even wider at his desperately dismissive mumbled reply of ‘’s nothing’. “That is wonderful news. How did they react?”

“Well, they wanted to meet you immediately.”

Yet they didn’t. Montagne’s smile fades a little. Did Bandit not want anyone to see him like this? Best case scenario, he figured that Montagne’s current state simply wouldn’t do him justice, and worst case… Would he be ashamed of him?

“But obviously, that didn’t work out, so I told them -”

“Why didn’t it?”

He must’ve noticed something, maybe an odd expression, because he reassures him instantly: “My love, I saw them yesterday evening. You’ll meet them soon enough, trust me. They were very supportive, in any case. I think Ced is just glad to know there’s at least one person out there who can tame me.” Bandit’s hand brushes over Montagne’s belly, toying with the hem of his shirt, and he puts his own over it.

Maybe he’s being dramatic. Thinking about it, his recent thought spirals followed a similar pattern to the dangerous ones Bandit entertains much too often, the ones Montagne has been trying to interrupt whenever he notices them. Except that Bandit can’t read minds as of yet and probably has no idea what’s going on with him, and how should he. Montagne hasn’t said a word. They haven’t mentioned their brief engagement, or whatever the fuck was going on for a bit, at all.

Maybe when Montagne said that he was worried about losing Bandit, he didn’t just mean Bandit’s own withdrawal from their relationship.

“I don’t like that you see me like this.”

Bandit reacts not, doesn’t glance upwards, but there’s a tightening of his half-embrace. He’s listening.

“I can’t stand it, in fact. I feel useless and powerless and I can tell it weighs you down as well.” Once he’s started speaking, the words nearly tumble out of his mouth by themselves, one by one does the truth finally spill over. “I’m sorry. You’re trying so hard, mon cœur, I know you’re trying so hard to be strong for me, and I love you for it, but… I don’t want this. I don’t want to be like this. I should be the one there for you.” His heart is heavy, his mind darkened and his eyes burning, threatening tears as evidence of his own fragility. Rarely do his emotions get the better of him yet his self-control is raw and worn out from too much use without a chance to replenish. “I know I should be grateful I survived, but I feel like an annoyance. I don’t even know if I can go back to Rainbow, I don’t know whether I’ll fully heal and I hate it.”

Before he can feel guilty for loading even more onto Bandit’s shoulders, his love cradles his head in surprisingly warm hands, whispers his name and puts their foreheads together. “It’s okay”, Bandit mutters, even though both of them know it isn’t, “Gilles, stop. It’s okay. Listen to me.”

Montagne expects platitudes and white lies, misplaced optimism, a few phrases people throw out and pat themselves on the back for consoling someone, but instead, Bandit says: “Look. All of this fucking sucks.”

Well. It sure does. Montagne frowns.

“I’ve been in the hospital before, I was injured pretty badly and felt less worthy than a sack of potatoes, believe me. I was hardly myself, I couldn’t sleep, the constant pain was horrendous and on top of that, all the pretty nurses were talking smack -”

This startles a small huff of amusement out of him and effectively interrupts his intrusive thoughts. “Aren’t you supposed to make me feel better?”

“- I’m getting to that part. But you probably know how degrading it is when you can’t even piss by yourself, right? That’s the fucking worst. You’re like a baby, and you definitely feel just as stupid. It was one of the worst months of my entire life. But you know what? I got better.”

Ah. There we go. Montagne’s mouth goes thin.

“No, I know what you’re thinking: empty promises. You don’t understand how true it is, though. I’ve been rock bottom a few times, but it gets better. You’ve been there for it, so you know what I mean. And don’t even think for a second that each rock bottom was the same level, no, there were times when everything seemed hopeless, but honestly? Each time, it got a little easier to get back out. To get out and get to a better level than before. My parents…” He catches himself and shakes his head a little. “I don’t wanna keep talking about me right now.”

Montagne nudges him. “Please do. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

A deep breath later, Bandit continues: “My parents valued independence highly, so Ced and I were encouraged to help ourselves, which I suppose is a good thing. But it also taught us to not rely on anybody else. To not expect any safety nets: you fall, that’s it. Convincing yourself it’s worthwhile to go on after you’ve fallen was hard. I felt like I failed at life, and for a bit, giving up was the better alternative. But I did have a safety net after all: Ced did his part, a few friends did, my boss, too. So it worked out.”

“But you got worse again”, Montagne mutters.

“Yes. I got worse. Still, by then I knew not only that it was possible to get back out, but also that others would help. Miles away from asking for help, mind you, but with more hope. I kept learning. And…” Despite his reluctance to go on, Montagne remains quiet and waits. Some part of him realises it’s something Bandit has to say. “And… as horrible as that sounds, as much as I don’t even want to imagine it… I think I’m at the point where I could go on without you. If you didn’t – didn’t make it, for example, I could… I think I could. The beginning would be the absolute fucking worst, no doubt, but I’d find something to – to make it worth it. To continue.”

Wordlessly, Montagne drags him into a bear hug. Presses their bodies even tighter together, ignoring the stabs of pain in his side, ignoring all his muscles protesting, ignoring the uncomfortable weight against his injured ribcage. He just needs this man like air all of a sudden, and it seems impossible to him how he could’ve ever rejected him in anything.

He knows exactly what Bandit means. It might be put in a morbid way, but he’s trying to express just how much Montagne has helped him. Comparing this version of him with the fragile creature he once warmed in his arms is unthinkable; this Bandit isn’t vulnerable anymore. And though he was hit hard by Montagne’s near-death, he ended up recovering, largely due to his own strength. A few years ago, he would’ve reacted very differently to nearly losing a loved one, that much is certain.

Bandit is clinging to him as well, taking measured breaths against his jaw and hiding his face. “You’re the strongest fucking person I know”, he whispers, voice cracking. “And even if you lost all your limbs or your eyesight or what the fuck ever, you’d still be you. You’d still be as great as you were before. That’s a fact, you dumbass. And if you can’t do Rainbow anymore, you’ll open a stupid dog café in Marseilles or sell Fairtrade products in a corner shop, I don’t bloody know. All I know is that you shouldn’t listen to that irritating voice in your head because it has absolutely no fucking idea what it’s talking about.”

By now, Montagne is chuckling and crying at the same time, overcome by too many emotions to be able to process any of them. It feels like he was allowed a deeper look in Bandit’s workings, like he’s able to understand him a little better. More importantly, he does feel significantly less stupid now that he knows Bandit is familiar with thoughts like these and already opened himself up about them.

“I’m also worried you’d be put off by all my injuries”, he admits after a while of comforting physical contact, feeling much more confident in himself and assured they can actually talk things out.

His better half lifts his head to squint at him in confusion. “Put off…? Like, grossed out? This is nothing, I once had someone in my arms whose guts were – wait, you don’t mean that I’d find you unattractive, do you?”

Montagne eyes his love for a moment, the man whose knees get weak whenever Montagne whispers a single filthy word in his ear, the man who has admitted to having more wet dreams about him than he’d like, the very man who so valiantly held himself back until Montagne allowed him to let loose, and who has never held back since. The man Montagne missed every lonely second he spent without him over the past weeks. “Well, I’d hope not”, he mutters.

Bandit looks at him like he grew two heads. “Are you serious?”

“The bruises still look quite bad, and all the -”

“Okay, listen. You stop talking. I’m going to kiss every one of your bruises until you’re not sure whether it hurts anymore, and then I’ll make you come so hard you’ll pass out. To hell with waiting, I won’t take this for another second.”

He’s not sure whether he should take it as a threat or a promise, but when Bandit starts pulling Montagne’s clothes off his body, he finds that he has no intention to argue whatsoever. And it’s good to know this part of him still works. “Be careful, mon cœur.”

Dark eyes flick up and are accompanied by a growl: “Can’t promise that.”

And though this one was definitely a threat, all Montagne does is smile. He didn’t even realise how much he missed this.

~*~

Bandit continues to do all the work for them the next morning: he orders room service and serves Montagne breakfast in bed while also shoving everything he finds into their suitcases. No need to separate their clothes or belongings; they’re going to the same destination anyway. They should travel more, take some time off and explore the world together – a notion Montagne hadn’t entertained until now as he was never really tempted to leave France or just Europe in general without good reason, and their missions abroad together with the other operators’ supplemental information used to be sufficient for him. But now, the thought of spending a week in a hotel with no one familiar around him but Bandit, the image of them going on walks while holding hands, pointing out quaint aspects of the place around them… it’s enticing. He vows to bring it up sometime.

Muscles still sore from the previous night, his mind is the opposite: he feels refreshed, optimistic, motivated. Part of the reason is undoubtedly the sex, he can’t deny it – falling asleep with Bandit in his arms, the faint feeling of satisfaction still coursing through his body, it’s as invigorating as the act itself, the knowing, challenging stare as Bandit swallowed -

Well. He shouldn’t dwell on it. They don’t have a lot of time planned between leaving the hotel and the departure of their flight.

But anyway, it’s not just that, it’s also the conversations before and after. The way Bandit made him realise what exactly is important, that he can rely on his lover without a guilty conscience. He kept repeating how beautiful Montagne was, even during, and though it caused him to blush in considerable embarrassment, he certainly feels less self-conscious now. There wasn’t a single second in which Bandit’s assurance wavered, no moment where he showed doubt. He meant what he said.

And, thinking about it, it would be the same for Montagne. He wouldn’t care about Bandit’s physical state. He’d still love him unconditionally.

Then why are you saying no to him?

It’s different, Montagne wants to argue in his head. But is it? He’s known Bandit for longer than he did Catou when he proposed to her. They were at a different point in life then, not entirely sure about their careers (well, she wasn’t), uncertain about their future (and children is still a sore spot he refuses to entertain), really too young to make such a momentous decision. He’s been living together with Bandit for long enough to assess how well they work together. How well they fit.

No. It’s not any different in his heart. Where it’s different is his head: he’s twice shy, irrationally worried about getting hurt. And consequently hurts Bandit instead. Bandit has openly declared his wish to make their undying love and loyalty official, whereas Montagne punishes him for a crime he didn’t commit. A crime which was nobody’s fault, in the end.

Watching Bandit tear through the room and toss most of what they own into the nearest suitcase, Montagne notices how there’s one object Bandit hasn’t touched. Montagne’s passport. And he probably never will again, without explicit approval. He made a mistake, apologised and learnt from it.

Now it’s Montagne’s time to do so.

“Dominic”, he says, and instantly all activity halts. Bandit is comically frozen mid-throw, like a deer in headlights. Montagne never calls him by his full first name. “Mon amour.”

“… yes?” He seems unaware of the severity of the situation as of now.

“I would like to change my mind. If it’s still possible.” Montagne extends his hand and, instinctively, Bandit glides over to take it and sit down on the edge of the bed. “I do want to marry you.”

Bandit blinks at him. “Oh”, he says. And then: “Really?”

“Yes. I’ve thought about it, and I realise I’ve been unfair. We don’t have to rehash how… questionable your proposal was, but it made me overlook the most obvious truth: that I do love you above all and want to spend the rest of my life with you. And I do want to make it official that way.”

Bandit still looks dumbstruck, probably overwhelmed from the suddenness of the announcement. “Uh -”

“If it’s alright with you, I’d like us to have rings, too, so I can carry something on me at all times that marks me as yours and the other way round. So yes, mon cœur. My love. I hope your proposal still stands, because I would like to accept it.”

By now, his lover has turned crimson. He’s fidgeting with Montagne’s hand, bending his fingers and generally not knowing what to do with his own, and his embarrassment is terribly endearing – up to the point where he mumbles something Montagne would swear he misheard. “… for the benefits”, Bandit ends, apparently addressing his own feet.

Now it’s Montagne’s turn to blink, uncomprehending. “What was that?”

“I wanted to marry for the benefits”, Bandit repeats, louder, and Montagne’s mind screeches to a halt.

He stares at Bandit, Bandit stares at the ground. “You… what now?”

“Not just – well I mean, also, but definitely not only… you know, financial, because I think there is…” Bandit’s tongue seems to be disobeying him. “But, mostly because…”

“What on earth are you saying, Dom?”

“I wasn’t allowed to visit you.”

The shoe drops.

Boy, does the shoe drop. This explains so much. Montagne blanks for a second before his brain retroactively feeds him bits and pieces of information which now neatly fall into place, now that he’s been handed the solution on a silver platter. In his delirium, he never questioned why Madeleine was the only one coming to visit him – hell, even his parents did – instead of Bandit as well; he did hear about a fight between Bandit and Lion and probably, in his feverish mind, figured that Bandit was banned because of this and couldn’t visit him as a result. But never, not for a moment, did he consider the option that they simply turned Bandit away because he was no more than a stranger to them, no official connection between them.

No wonder Bandit went stir-crazy, no wonder his mind snapped and convinced him faking official documents was a reasonable long-term solution, no wonder he announced their wedding so casually without ever officially proposing. It was never meant to be a step forward for them as a couple, was never meant as any kind of declaration – it was meant as a preventative method in case they ever find themselves in a similar situation.

No wonder Bandit is thoroughly embarrassed by Montagne’s acceptance speech.

If there even was any left, all of his residual anger vanishes upon this revelation. He’s not even dismayed about Bandit’s motives: had he, at any point really, explained himself, Montagne might’ve actually agreed with him – because while a marriage means something much more sentimental and symbolic to Montagne, he understands Bandit’s viewpoint as well, especially under the circumstances.

Bandit is still avoiding his gaze, so he lifts his lover’s hand and kisses its palm until he has his full attention. “We’ve become victims of a grave misunderstanding”, Montagne states, a smile playing on his lips. “I understand now. Still, my point stands: I would like to be married to you, for the reasons I stated, and also for the reasons you had in mind. But I’d like you to think about it, because we obviously have different approaches and I want to be sure our expectations match.”

And this is the moment burning eyes meet his, framed in an expression so open and vulnerable that Montagne has no doubt about the authenticity of Bandit’s next words: “I don’t need to think about it.”

Montagne’s heart doubles in size. His composure, his tension, all of it melts instantly, replaced by a heady rush of pure serotonin as he realises just how right this decision feels. Inevitable, almost, like this has been their destination all along without either of them being aware, but now they’re here; exactly where they belong. All their time together has led up to this, the difficult conversations they had, the obstacles they overcame, all the beautiful little moments which were wholly theirs. It’s incredible to him how far they’ve progressed, from near-strangers who barely exchanged a word to lovers so intimate they’ll spend the rest of their lives together.

It’s not about the proposal itself, not about the wedding or even the marriage after – Montagne himself knows best that a marriage is no guarantee for happiness; instead, it’s something deeper, significant only to them. A promise to each other, a promise to take care of each other, to stay loyal and supportive, to listen and talk to each other. Ultimately, it’s extremely private, yet they might decide to share it with the world regardless.

“Come here”, he pleads and kisses Bandit, half drags him onto himself and pushes his hands under Bandit’s shirt – no, his own shirt, he notices, the one Bandit slept in. A shirt he brought Montagne to wear in hospital and a shirt he took back to wash it, but it seems he didn’t get around to doing so. Instead he just wore it. “I love you so much”, Montagne whispers against scratchy beard hair, and of course that moment someone knocks on their door.

They look at each other and simultaneously roll their eyes. Lion has terrible timing.

“We don’t have much time left!”, the other Frenchman announces from the other side of the door. “So whatever it is you’re doing, you better -” He stops once Bandit yanks open the door with an annoyed scowl.

“We were actually getting ready”, Montagne lies smoothly and can’t help his beaming expression. The same glowing, fluttery feeling which has settled in his stomach is tugging on the corners of his lips, forcing him to grin.

Lion raises a sceptical brow. “Seems like you kissed and made up then.”

“And out”, Bandit provides helpfully. “Don’t stand around, get this luggage downstairs, I’ll take care of Gilles.”

“That better not be a euphemism”, Lion scoffs, but Montagne catches him fighting a smile himself.

Maybe the two of them are contagious. It would certainly make for a more pleasant flight.

~*~

By the time they’re back in England, Lion is thoroughly done with their shit.

The entire jouney, Bandit fawned over Montagne and tended to his every wish – uttered or not –, all of this done on top of all the accommodations he’d booked in advance. They spent a relaxed hour in the airport lounge, sipping on overpriced drinks and listening to the bustling around them, and even flew first class despite the shortness of the flight. Not even the screaming baby that performed the entire duration as if it was having its debut on the big stage was able to put a damper on Montagne’s or Bandit’s mood, and part of him understands Lion’s irritated response to their admittedly disgusting lovey-dovey aura.

His friend started out being cordial and visibly swallowing various remarks, progressed to thin-lipped, high-browed and disapproving, and ended with eye rolls and audible sighs. Every affectionate nickname worsened his mood, every public display like kisses or interlacing their fingers prompted a judging glance, and every soft-spoken sentence had him check his phone for the time.

Montagne has no space in his fully-occupied heart to feel any sort of guilt, especially because he suspects Lion is largely doing it for Bandit’s benefit as the German seems to relish the reactions he provokes. He is very smug.

His suspicions are apparently confirmed when he’s alone with Lion for a minute while Bandit bodychecks his way through an unmoving and uncaring crowd blocking the baggage claim. “Seems like you came to an agreement after all”, Lion states neutrally.

“We did. And if I’m honest, something you said helped with my decision.” Lion only nods, like he expected it. Curious. “Don’t tell me you’ve come to like him? If so, I won’t need a wedding present from you because that’s all I could wish for.”

“Let’s not go that far”, comes the hasty response and Montagne chuckles.

“Then why?”

A one-sided shrug. “I think everyone deserves a second chance.”

They share no more than a significant look before Bandit returns, masking his annoyance with overdone cheeriness, and so his statement remains unexplained. Whether he finally noticed the mirrored qualities he and Bandit share, whether he’s referring to Montagne’s first marriage, or whether he’s implying that he might meet Bandit with a different attitude in the future, Montagne doesn’t know. Still, the assertion resonates with him.

Seeing the oh so familiar landscape rush past the window on the last leg back to Hereford evokes an odd kind of nostalgia in Montagne. The view is one he’s always enjoyed, it marked the end of a difficult mission, the return to normalcy in a way – because his life at Rainbow has become the new normal for him, his everyday life, the foundation for his daily routine. The company of his colleagues is dear to him, as is the work itself, and as gruelling their training schedule is, he sleeps better when his muscles are sore and his head heavy.

Knowing he won’t be able to go back to this life for the foreseeable future causes a bittersweet feeling in his stomach. He will still participate, no doubt, will be included in briefings and kept up to date, will confer with teammates, offer advice. So it’s not like he’ll be isolated or exiled. But the knowledge of being incapable of doing what he’s used to stings a little.

Even so, his mind is focused on another matter. There are many more obstacles to overcome in the future concerning their engagement, starting with their respective families (though he’s under the suspicion Madeleine has realised something is up, even if she might not be aware of the severity of the situation) and ending with important decisions on how to hold their wedding party – but the most valuable aspect is that they’ll be doing it together.

Although he’s not so sure whether Bandit is ready for some of it.

“Take it to your grave or I’ll haunt your son when I’m dead.”

Lion seems largely amused by the threat, patiently waiting in front of the main entrance to Rainbow’s headquarters for Bandit to open the door. “One of his friends is a flat-earther, so he’s faced worse.”

Montagne snorts and Bandit nearly slams into the doors from scowling back at the other Frenchman. “Seriously though. This is just between us for now, alright? Even I haven’t told anyone, and neither has Gilles. Right, my love?”

“I’d like to point out that you were the one who told Olivier about your ‘proposal’ in the first place, mon cœur. Drunkenly, if I remember correctly.”

“Does that mean I can’t even tell Gustave?” Lion seems intent on making Bandit faceplant after all – he’s got the easy job of pushing Montagne around whereas Bandit is tasked with the much more difficult assignment of holding doors open for them on the way to their canteen. “I would love to see his face.”

“No. Nobody. Especially not in Rainbow.”

“What about Père Bertrand?”

“Absolutely not. Who knows whether he’s a snitch.”

“Who would he snitch to? God?”

“Look. I don’t know why this is so hard for you.” Bandit’s voice is rising in agitation as he shoulders open the last door, back turned to the room behind him, eyes fixed on Lion. “Just don’t. Tell. Anyone. Okay? No one needs to know. No one! This is just between us.”

Montagne’s composure is crumbling. Wordlessly, he indicates the entirety of the canteen with a vague gesture, trying his best to hold back a hearty laugh.

In response, Bandit whirls around with a wild expression, only to be faced with an entire room decked out with the gaudiest decorations in pink and white, plus literally all of the other operators arranged along the wall, holding confetti cannons or glasses of champagne, wearing party hats and utterly aghast expressions, and above them, floating below the ceiling, are gold balloons spelling out E N G A G E D.

The awkward silence is palpable.

The champagne bottle in Blitz’ hand pops with a startlingly loud noise, making everyone jump and almost taking out Twitch’s eye in the process, and Lion just starts roaring with laughter, holding on to the wheelchair as to not lose his balance.

“Welcome back, Gilles”, Doc offers and lifts his glass for a toast, and that finally breaks the spell. Everyone rushes at them, congratulating them and greeting Montagne after his long absence, Rook with tears in his eyes and Jackal with an encouraging smile, there are too many faces and too many well-wishes to identify them all. Their gesture is heartwarming, and though Bandit stands in the middle of the crowd, hiding his bright red face with one hand (and repeating that no, he is not taking questions right now), he’s far from fighting the many hugs he receives. When Sledge takes him into his arms, there’s audible bone cracking and joint popping, and Montagne is suddenly glad to be confined to the wheelchair.

Maybe their reveal didn’t go quite as planned, but the support they’re receiving is invigorating. Montagne might’ve preferred a small wedding prior to this, yet being confronted with hard evidence of how much all these people care for them is beginning to change his mind.

He will talk about it with Bandit, later. For now he has a party to attend.

#rainbow six siege #montagne #bandit #montagne/bandit #lion #fanfic #protection mountain #I'm personally very happy with how all this is concluded #thank you to the one person who started all this you know who you are #thank you also to suzie for keeping this ship alive all this time #thank you all #💗💗💗#ALSO #CAN YOU GUESS WHO'S THE SNITCH?

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vickylamore · 3 years

Text

Enemy Of The Wolves [1]

TW: Language, Violence, Misogyny, Underlines of Sexisms

Pairing: [slight] Mark Lee x Female Reader, NCT OT23 [Mostly platonic] x Female Reader

Genre: Action, Military Style AU, Organized crime AU, Mafia AU.

(1/?) Part 2 Part 3

Word Count: 5k

[Main Masterlist] [Enemy Of The Wolves - Mini Masterlist]

Summary: Not only were you one of the few females to be apart of Neo Culture Technology’s underground organized crime association, you were also the only and top ranked female captain in the entire industry. Even if you worked in a majority male industry, you earned respect from nearly every one of your male counterparts. All but one. That one not only exposed your name to one of NCT’s worst and most vicious rivals but signed NCT’s entire demise. Only one group will prevail, the other left in ruins with no chance of recovery.

Notes: Happy 200 followers! This was in my drafts for so long, it’s embarrassing. Technicallt speaking, it’s suppose to be a oneshot and has 22k words to it be I know yall won’t read it LNAOSJA so I’m dividing it in parts hehe. This is more of a corrupt military turned into an undeground organized crime association :)

Disclaimer: Please remember that this is a work of fiction and solely fiction. Any of the idols written and mentioned in this series would never take part in these actions, let alone stand by/condone them. The idols mentioned are merely used as characters and in no way am I saying that this is how they act in real life.

“If you even try pointing that damn pistol at me, I will kill you.” You pulled off your hoodie so you aren’t attacked and mistaken as an intruder, noticing that two of your men already had their hands on their pistols. Your lips crack into a smile as you walk into the academy’s teacher’s lounge. You had just come back from a mission overseas in Canada, arriving in Seoul only a couple of hours ago. You wanted to visit the D.R.E.A.M.S most efficient team before reporting back to Taeyong.

You had been recruited in Neo Culture, a once high ranked military facility who went off the grids when they started getting involved into illegal activity, at the age of fifteen when you were spying on them multiple times for a man (who is now dead, not because you killed him or anything) who paid you a hefty amount of money for the information you were feeding him. It was happening for a couple of weeks until a soldier in training in D.R.E.A.M.S, a person you are currently training, found out about you. Long story short, they reported you to the higher-ups and they made (as they, you mean Johnny, Taeil and Taeyong) them talk to you.

By talk, you truly mean kidnap you and force a deal; work with them/recruit you or you die.

Obviously, you wanted to live. That’s why you’re where you are right now; the co-head alongside Mark Lee and top female captain at Neo Culture.

D.R.E.A.M.S are a unit made by Neo Culture as a way to recruit youth with no home, an unstable life or on the run and offer them a home in exchange for full loyalty to the organization. The teenagers and young adults are trained to become soldiers before graduating from the academy and then are relocated either in the 127 unit or the Japanese base with Yuta, who just recruited a new . Soon, however, they’ll open a base in China for more soldiers to be relocated there. As of right now, only WayV is there.

The D.R.E.A.M.S is composed of ten levels (also known as tiers), ten being the lowest level and one being the highest. Each tier had a specialty that tests your knowledge, physicality, communication, comprehension, real life-like simulations on the battlefield etc.

The the first tier students who are apart of the only squad of D.R.E.A.M.S but are highest-ranked students are called the Dreamies composed of; Huang Renjun who specialized in negotiations and investigations, Jeno who specialized in close-range fighting underground boxing, Haechan in weaponry and long-range fighting/combat, Jaemin in the art of escaping, Chenle in explosives and chemicals and Jisung in coding. Note that they’re still students, just the best of the best and are used to fulfill missions and tasks… and graduate. They all learned from the best; you.

This was all made by the General of Neo, Lee Taeyong.

Taeyong’s family, one of the top military families, was involved in an incident that forced them to turn their military base into a secret hideout for men and women who practiced illegal activities. After three generations of doing so, Taeyong’s father decided to build the academy, created one of the top grossing underground criminal facilities that practiced a military style regime and named it Neo Culture Technology.

“Ew,” Haechan complained while turning to you, “not you being back.” You scoffed under your breath as you hugged Jisung, the first to come to greet you.

“What do you want me to do? Leave?,” you asked while hitting him across his head, “It’s not like you could magically make my body disappear.”

“We could bury you six feet under,” you turned to the second oldest of the Dreamies, a smirk on his face as he sat in a chair reading a book, “slow death as you run out of oxygen.”

“You just gave me flashbacks from when I was 17,” your skin crawled as you sent Renjun a disgusted glance, “never again, thank you.”

“PTSD type beat.” You turn around to roll your eyes at Jeno. He only shrugged, a smirk tugging his lips, “what? Did I lie?”

“Alright, alright,” Mark got up from his seat to give you a hug, one that was longer than usual. You didn’t blame him though, you haven’t seen each other nor called in nearly two months. You melted into his touch, smiling softly in his embrace. You rolled your eyes at the Dreamies in front of you, some of them making kissing faces.

“The hug never happened,” you mouthed. “I will hunt each and every one of you down if anything gets out.” Jaemin chuckled under his breath but quickly threw his hands in the air at your raised eyebrows.

“How was it? What happened?” Mark, who was completely clueless at what just happened, asked while pulling away.

You ran a hand through your black and silver hair, a light sigh escaping your lips, “it was fine, a bitch but it was fine.” You responded, shutting down any possibility to talk about your information. “Plus, it’s classified until I talk to Taeyong.”

The Dreamies looked at you in slight worry. Usually, you’d tell them everything that happened on your mission, it was a report thing you will do since one day, they would be going on month-long missions of their own; they’d gained information on what to expect. Yet, this time, you didn’t want to talk about it.

“You good?” Asked Mark, his hands holding yours.

Do you mention that you and Mark were rather close, especially as captains in one of the deadliest and dangerous industries in the world? Of course, no one knew about this with the exceptions of the squad in front of you. You would rather cease to exist if word got out that both heads of the academy frequently flirted with each other.

You nodded, though hesitantly and sent him a small smile, “but how are my students? How are the classes going?”

You quickly changed the subject and the youngsters didn’t question it. Mark did look at you skeptically but you only shook your head when you caught his glance and he finally let it go. “Your students are a lot nicer than I remember. Though some of them haven’t changed.”

You nodded at his response, knowing exactly who he’s talking about. Even if you were the head of the D.R.E.A.M.S unit, you still had classes you had to teach. It was your choice and it’s not like Taeyong wanted to refuse, so instead of being cooped up in your office, he let you keep teaching the students. Because most of your specialties were already being taught by other instructors, you decided to teach strategies on the battlefield as well as fighting and defense with Mark, who also taught at the academy. You taught those classes to the tenth and second-tier students, their ages ranging from thirteen to nineteen. Even if you were rather lenient with your tenth tier students, the second tier was really where you were a lot harsher and blunt towards the students.

A lot of students respected you, especially the female students. Of course, they were a few that got on your nerves but it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle. A small group of people who didn’t respect you were the students in the second tier, the people who were friends with the male who found out about you when you were fifteen.

“You’re talking about Jihoon and his friends huh?”

Jeno rolled his eyes and nodded his head. “You could hear Mark screaming at them at least once a day, especially Jihoon.”

“He had the audacity to talk shit about you while you were away and Jisung almost fought him.” you snapped your head at the younger, who was on his phone during Chenle’s report.

“Correction,” Renjun added, clearing his throat, “we almost fought them and he did fight him, blow to the nose.”

“He deserved it.”

“No, he didn’t,” you huffed out and closed your eyes, already feeling the annoyed look from Jisung.

“Yes, he did-”

“Maybe he did but you’re still my student and so is he and the rest of you,” you said bluntly, sending him a disappointed look. “He gets on my nerves all the time but I rather deal with him than fighting him. You probably proved whatever he tried to point out.”

“What did you say?”

You snapped your head at the Mark, who turned his laptop towards you. On the device was a video playing of your squad practically on fire while glaring at your group of mischievous second tier boys. The film was recorded on a top notch hidden camera in the field outside, you only knew this because of the amount of times you’ve seen the cameras. The video was from a few weeks back, long before you were supposed to come back.

“You heard me, Jeno.” One of the boys, Chris, smirked in the video, cracking his knuckles. “Or do your ears not work?”

“Maybe they don’t,” the leader of the Dreamies shrugged, a deep glare crossing his face, “if you say it again motherfucker, I’ll actually pay attention and knock your teeth out.”

“As if,” another, Chan laughed, “you won’t do shit.”

“You forgot that he’s a boxer dumbass,” Jaemin snarled, “and that he gets most of his power from anger.”

Renjun cut in, “go ahead, make him mad. Won’t be hard to bury your body six feet under.”

“Or burn it, dissolve it, amputate your dead body limb by limb,” the second youngest of the Dreamies deadpanned from where he was sitting on the grass, “again, won’t be that much of a challenge.”

“Guys, let’s just leave them alone.”

“Shut up Ezra,” Hyunwoo snarled, running a hand through his hair, “you won’t do shit.”

“Especially with that brat of a captain you have.” Jihoon laughed, “which reminds me, didn’t she sleep with the General so that she could be ranked captain or did she ask with her perfect princess little ass and they handed it to her like a lollipop?”

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“The rest is basically them going back and forth before Jisung through a punch.”

Were you surprised? No, not really. Upset? Yeah. A lot, actually.

Jisung sulked while leaning against the wall, mumbling under his breath, “well Taeyong said that what I did was justified-”

“You weren’t supposed to say that you idiot-”

“I’m sorry, Taeyong said what?” You cut Haechan off with your hand while looking at Mark. “He said it was justified?”

“He only said that ‘cause he witnessed it,” the co-head of the academy crossed his arms, “wanted to talk to the Dreamies for whatever reason then stumbled onto them fighting.”

Your eyes widen while looking at Jisung. “You did not punch my student in front of my boss.” You scoffed under your breath, irritation rising in your chest. You weren’t as disappointed as you previously were since Taeyong said that it was okay (more or less) but you still were frustrated that this happened while you were gone. “Can’t say I’m disappointed, not even surprised since he had it coming.”

“Told you she wouldn’t be mad.”

“However,” you looked at Jaemin to shut him up before glancing at Jisung again, “I don’t condone fighting among my top tiers, you out of everyone should know that, especially since you’re not only my student but in the only D.R.E.A.M.S squad to exist.” You saw him sigh and look at the floor, upset that he was scolded by you. “Just don’t do it again alright?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Just please tell me you broke his nose,” you asked with an eyebrow raised as a smile tugged his lips. “Yeah, I did.”

“Don’t tell anyone I’m proud.” You gave him a fist bump and rubbed his head, dishevelling his hair. The rest of them chuckled under their breaths as you walked towards the exit. You turned around while glancing at Mark, “anything else I should know?”

The co-Captain shook his head, “other than that, nothing really happened. Your tenth tier class is progressing rather well and quickly too; in a couple of weeks, they should be ready for their passing exam to get to tier nine. Your second-tier class is doing great as expected and is excelling as well. The only thing you should check out Jihoon’s group of friends and himself, they’ve been getting more and more destructive in class lately.”

You raised a brow, your head slightly tilting in confusion, “destructive? How so?”

Jeno answered for him, “a lot more arguments with the teachers than usual, they’ve been disrespecting the younger students as well.”

“Can you guys stop cutting me off-”

“Not to mention the fight he and I had; saying that you did nothing but exist and people gave you what you wanted. Explaining to his friends that you were probably a traitor and you didn’t deserve your position as head of the D.R.E.A.M.S, our captain and the top captain in the association.” Jisung smiled sarcastically, picking at his nails.

“But other than that, it’s great,” Renjun concluded while shrugging his shoulders.

You nod your head with a bitter chuckle escaping your lips, “did not expect them to act out while I was away…” you snarled under your breath, almost expecting more from the boys. You sigh before opening the door, “alright thanks guys, I’ll see you back at the dorm.” Some of them smiled at you while the rest waved.

“Oh, and just because I came back today doesn’t mean I’ll postpone training,” you reminded, “tomorrow morning, five am sharp, don’t be late.” You laughed when you heard them groan, closing the door behind you.

It didn’t take too long to reach the main hall where most students were. You needed to pass through the living space in order to get the other building where Taeyong’s office was; it was easier than going outside. The living space was huge, it basically occupied an entire floor. It was basically a dining half with various rooms such as lounging rooms, study rooms, a library and mini-training rooms. This is where all the tiers commune before they go to their respective buildings for classes and dorms. The buildings were connected, which were blocked by heavy-duty doors and a handprint passcode that only unlocked for the Dreamies, WayV and 127, the symbol of wolves branded on each door.

“Ms. Song!” You turned around and was met with a hug from one of your youngest students. Lia hugged you tightly and started giggling out of happiness. You usually don’t hug your students yet Lia was one of your many exceptions. She was the youngest female in tier ten, therefore making her the youngest female trainee in the D.R.E.A.M.S. Although her age, she was very intelligent and agile for a fourteen-year-old. You knew that if she continued as such, she’d be top of her classes in no time. “I missed you so much! How was your mission? What happened? What information did you gather? Who did you meet?”

You laugh at her excitement, “alright Lia, I missed you too but you know I can’t tell you that. Though, I can ask about your well being, how are you doing?”

She pushed her glasses up and pushed the hair out of her face. Her light brown eyes shined as she quickly explained everything that happened in the last two months. “...and then Ms. Kim taught us how to make a fire out of electrical wires and it was really interesting. Captain Lee also told me that my agility gives me an advantage when I train with him and other trainees. I almost took him down too… almost but Captain is really strong so it was really hard! But I tried even harder and next time I’ll get him!” You laughed at her enthusiasm and ruffled her playfully.

“I’m glad you’re doing great Lia, I’m proud of you.” Her eyes lit up at your compliment as she quickly nodded her head and soon, more students surrounded you at the sight of your presence.

Most of them were your current tenth tier students (some of them were in class with other teachers), glad to see their mentor back and safe at Neo Culture. They told you about what happened in each of their classes and their own experiences in their dorms and how they progressed as individuals. Some who came towards you were your older students, some of them in tier four and five, expressing how they were glad to see you.

“Yo Ms. Song!” you turned your head towards the voice and your eyes quickly landed on the group of problematic students; Jihoon, Chris, Chan, Hyunwoo and Ezra. You nodded at the students as they came forward, the lower-ranked students moving aside to make room for them. Lia moved behind you, joining her friends on the sidelines.

“Captain Song to you,” you instructed, your arms behind your back as you straighten your posture.

“Ah, don’t be like that,” Jihoon sulked, his gaze landing on Lia. “Ms. tenth tier just called you Ms. Song, what’s the harm if we did it?” You lifted a brow at his tone which was a lot less playful and more irritated than anything.

Your once happy and less strict expression quickly turned cold as you took a few steps towards him and his little friend group, “you must understand that you and your fellow classmates are in one of the highest-ranking tiers. Therefore, you do not have the same privileges as your younger peers. You will address me as Captain Song since you are older and therefore, more prone to listen to orders or am I mistaken?” You lifted a brow as you questioned him and he quickly got quiet.

“No, Captain, you are not mistaken.” His friends answered for him as he clenched his jaw.

“Good,” you nodded while clearing your throat. “I’ve also been informed that you five have been causing more trouble than usual… mind explaining?” you glanced at each of them but they looked away. Though, Jihoon looks at you dead in the eyes, almost testing your authority. You scoff under your breath, finding him extremely disrespectful. “None of you have nothing to say?”

“That’s because we don’t need to.”

It was now dead quiet in the lounging area, every student who wasn't in their classrooms or dorms were now looking at you and the group of boys. It was a heavy silence since it was rare for you to be so serious in a usually happy setting such as the lounge. As you said before, a lot of the students were under your care when they first got here and are currently second-tier students. Only a handful have tested you and most of them haven’t stepped over your authority.

Until now.

“I beg your pardon,” you said coldly, almost daring him to repeat what he said.

“I said we don’t need to answer you,” one of your eyebrows raised as you stared at him for a few seconds before chuckling slowly.

“And why is that cadet?”

“Jihoon-” Ezra, one of his friends, tried to stop him from continuing further, “stop, you’re embarrassing us.” But he continued anyway.

“We- I don’t need to answer to someone I’m older than, to a potential traitor, to someone who didn’t even train as long as most of us here and let you alone you… a female.”

His words cut through the air like glass; like silent gunshot echoed through the tense atmosphere. You heard the students gasp in shock, some of them whispering amongst each other. You maintained eye contact with him as his chest heaved in what you presume was anger. You waited a few seconds before asking,

“Are you done?” You didn’t even bother saying his name since you are so close from lashing out at him in front of all of your students. You sigh as you walk towards him as he doesn’t say anything, “I’m going to take that as a yes.”

You inhale softly, calming your irritated nerves and looked at the second tier student with all the coldness and hostility you could muster, making him take a step back from you. He was taken aback from your gaze, having never seen it before; to him, you were looking at him as if he was the enemy.

“You being an entitled, misogynistic, rude and disrespectful student will get you nowhere in Neo Culture, especially with me as your Captain.” Your voice was calm yet cold, gentle yet held so much fierceness that it felt like you could set it on fire. You turned your head to the students who were still talking but it quickly ceased as your gaze fell on the upperclassmen.

Turning back to Jihoon, you continued, taking small and steady steps towards him, “it does not matter if you are older than me, it does not matter if I am a female and my past certainly doesn’t involve you. My training time has been accomplished faster than your time taking an entrance exam to the next tiers. My training time involved severe physical and mental training which is why I’m not bothered by a little boy who decided to disrespect one of the heads of D.R.E.A.M.S., captain of the Dreamies and highest ranked female captain in all of Neo Culture.”

You heard many of the students ‘ooing’ at your words but you shot them a quick gaze to prevent them from continuing.

“Just because you’re older than me doesn’t mean you’re stronger, smarter and faster than me, which is why you are still a student. As for me being a traitor; you’re still hung on the incident that happened six years ago, are you not?” You asked with a hint of mockery in your tone. “Of course, if that’s the case, that’s still a grudge you hold. Over what? I don’t know.”

“And don’t you find it a bit embarrassing that another person, younger than you in fact, is currently serving in the 127 unit only months after arriving at the academy?” You knew he thought of Sungchan, the younger male that literally ran his way up the tiers and was working in the association’s strongest unit. “And you’re still here? Six, nearly seven years later.”

You send him a small smirk before it falls completely, “now listen to me very, very carefully.” You whisper yet it felt like a scream from how piercing it was. “If you think that I wiggled my way to the top, you are very, very wrong.” Your voice held venom, the poison dripping from your words. “I made my way to the top, I fought for it and I earned it. It wasn’t handed to me, it wasn’t wrapped in a preppy white box with a ribbon on it. I’m where I am today because I fought for it because I wanted it. Don’t let your little grudges and delusions blind you from hard work and determination.”

“And one last thing,” you said, and turned to the rest of the students. “This goes for all of you too. Pass the message on to your peers; respect, especially in Neo Culture, will get you where you want to be if you fight for it. We rather have a hard-working, respectful and determined student as a soldier rather than an egotistical male who thinks his abilities will get him to the top. It might be a head start, of course, but it won’t get you anywhere if you are selfish and arrogant.” You directed the last part to Jihoon, whose hands were balled into fists.

“Neo Culture is a team and more importantly, a family. I rather see all of you help each other strive than one of you thinking their above another. What’s our motto?”

“Never leave a soldier behind.” The students spoke in unison, the motto practically engraved in their heads.

“That’s our motto, it’s not just a saying but a rule we live by.” You glanced back at Jihoon who wasn’t looking at you anymore. “I suggest you fix that little attitude of yours because if it doesn’t get you in trouble with me, it’ll certainly get you in trouble with the General.”

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” you snarled, standing right in front of him and watching as the twenty-two-year-old looks at you with envy. “I will not tolerate any kind of disrespect from you or anyone else. Refrain from any attitude or rudeness you want to use when talking to me. If not, I invite you to talk to Taeyong the same way.”

“Is that a threat?”

“I don’t need to mention Taeyong to make it one.” You simply state, lifting your head a bit to notice Yuta at the very end of the everlasting hall, watching you handle everything from a distance. “Do I make myself clear?”

You turned to the students, all of them agreeing at the same time, even the four boys who are Jihoon’s friends. “Do I make myself clear, Jihoon?” You asked again, waiting for the male’s response.

“Yes, Captain.” You hummed after hearing his answer. You look behind him and stare at the rest of his friend group, “I expect you all in my office in thirty minutes to discuss a proper punishment after the little report I received from multiple people, including the lack of respect for your peers and the altercation between the Dreamies and the rest of you. Understood?”

“Yes, Captain,” they said anonymously, their voices loud enough to be heard. “I expect you there as well, Jihoon.”

You took a step back from him and looked at the rest of the students. “You all are dismissed.” And just like that, the students scurried like birds approached by humans. Only a few lingered back, including Lia.

“Captain?” you turned around to see her shaken up by the whole ordeal. “Um-”

“Lia,” you sighed, your arms landing on your sides, “you can still call me Ms. Song, it’s okay.”

“Really?”

You nod your head, “Everyone in tiers five and under can call me Ms, everyone above refers to me as Captain. What was it you wanted to ask?”

Her face lit up again and asked, “I don’t want to bother you or anything but is it okay if you give me extra fighting classes? I want to get better.”

You smiled softly at the girl and said, “it’s definitely possible, I need to check your grades and how you’re advancing in class before coming to that decision. Tell you what,” you say, “I’ll talk to your teachers and see with Mark before coming back to you, give me a couple hours and pass by my office. I'm not promising anything but I need to make sure it won’t interfere with your current training. Alright?”

She nodded her head and smiled brightly at you, “of course, thank you, Ms. Song!” She turned her head to her friends calling her to hurry up. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nodded your head as she smiled again, running towards her friends. As soon as she turned the corner, you turned around and started walking towards the door all the way at the end of the living lounge, down an everlasting hallway.

You let out a sigh, the entire ordeal upsetting you to no extent. Of course, it was the male who ratted you out to Neo Culture who’s giving you a hard time. You didn’t care if he disrespected you, what you mainly cared about was him picking a fight with Jisung, who’s one of the top students, and used you to get on your nerves and started picking on the lower-tiered students.

It didn’t benefit him at all, if anything, he was creating a bad image for himself, setting himself up for disaster in the future. Until he’s ready to drop his attitude and ego, you weren’t going to help him, not with the way he currently is.

You finally made it to the end of the hallway, where Yuta was waiting, leaning against the door, an amused look on his face. “I personally think that was a beautiful welcoming gift.”

You rolled your eyes at his attempt to lighten your mood and quickly mumbled, “oh, shut the fuck up.”

He only chuckled under his breath and scanned his hand on the scanner, the once red light turning green as he cleared the authentication. He opened the door and nodded his hand for you to walk into the hall where multiple staircases lead up and down and another door leading to 127’s building.

You and Yuta walked down the ever grey hall leading to the next building. “When did you get back from Japan?”

“A few days ago actually,” he ran a hand through his blond hair, “came back for the monthly report, I’m going back tomorrow. I should be fine here since there’s no tensions between anyone right now and Shotaro’s there so I’m not worried.”

You hummed at the mention of the male, “settling well I presume?”

“Yeah,” Yuta nodded, “a lot better than I thought. He only started a few months back but he’s following, listening to orders and has one hell of a personality.” The man chuckled dryly to himself, as if proud of the younger male despite not admitting it. “How about you?”

You only let out a puff of air, a headache creeping up on you. “Apart from that whole thing? The mission in Canada was an absolute horror house, I don’t think I’ll be going back on an overseas mission in a while.”

Yuta didn’t even question your response as he planted his hand on the scanner once more. He only looked at you with curious eyes, “that bad, huh?” When you only nodded, he opened the door and waited for you to walk into the building. “Kids?” You sent him a solemn look, one you wish you didn’t need to share. You let out a heavy sigh as you walked through the door.

“Kids.”

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pencilofawesomeness · 3 years

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Fics I Absolutely Adore and Would Recommend to Anyone

I’ve been meaning to do this for a long, long time, because I love reading fanworks and they deserve a lot of love and I love sharing things that I love.

Obviously this isn’t everything, and if it’s not on this list that doesn’t mean I don’t love it, it just means I forgot at this moment. I will be adding to the list and I remember things or come across it again. (Trying to sort through my bookmarks and subscriptions is like trying to catch a fish bare-handed.) I’m also gonna shy away from the one-shots, even though I adore fun one-shots, just for the sake of organization. The list would be super long otherwise, and those are best sorted by fandom. Here... Here are just some brilliant works I want to rant about.

Disclaimer: I say “recommend” because I would recommend these works, any time any place, but do keep in mind the story’s rating and tags and stuff. Not everything is kid-friendly.

There is absolutely no hierarchy to the list below. They are added as I add.

Fairy Dance of Death

by Catsy ( @fairydanceofdeath )

Fandom: Sword Art Online Word Count: 660,282 Status: ongoing

「AU reboot of the entire SAO storyline, beginning from the premise that Kayaba Akihiko was obsessed with magic and Norse Mythology rather than swords and pure melee. As a result, he created the Death Game of Alfheim Online rather than the floating castle of Aincrad—a world in which player-killing is not a crime, and the nine player races are in competition with each other to reach the top of the World Tree. Multi-POV epic following the stories of multiple canon characters throughout the game.」

If Catsy wrote the SAO light novels and anime, SAO would be among the legendary series. Fairy Dance of Death has this amazingly simple premise of making Alfheim Online, the video game from the original series’ less-than-stellar second part, the game that the main cast becomes trapped in. However, it’s so much more. They took the characters and made them characters, and everyone gets ample spotlight—even background characters that normally wouldn’t receive a second thought. It’s masterful work, and to boot, there is a lovely frame of in-game mystery and player conflict. The organization is phenomenal and I aspire to world-build the way they did. Not to mention that stakes are so much higher and this series has ripped my heart to shreds more than once.

It has also brought me great joy, and even when I was in the dumps and didn’t want to read anything, a FDOD update made me pick up my phone and read when I otherwise wouldn’t have. It has a really special place in my heart. It updates once in a blue moon, but that’s okay.

Even if you have never seen a single piece of Sword Art Online, Fairy Dance of Death is still a great read. In fact, it’s the Better Version of SAO, if we’re all being honest, so I would especially recommend it if you hadn’t seen the original. Or if you have. The characters are given so much love and detail, to the point where Fairy Dance of Death’s characterizations are More Canon to me than Kawahara Reki’s work. It is just a beautiful piece of fiction, and it makes you question the depravity of man on levels that SAO shied away from.

Poisoned Dreams

by StrangeDiamond

Fandom: Genshin Impact Word Count: 82,852 Status: Complete, with a complete sequel and more to come

「 Every night now, Diluc dreams of death. Usually Kaeya's. In between these nightmares his life is falling apart. It doesn't take Kaeya long to realize that this is something much more insidious than simple bad dreams. His brother's life and sanity are on the line and there is nothing Kaeya won't do to save him. Bonus chapter added.」

In a growing fandom from a new game, StrangeDiamond swooped in and characterized these bad boys so well I think it’s canon. It really breathes life into the video game lore, and it’s an A+ depiction of awkward sibling re-bonding post-Terrible-Happenings. Poisoned Dreams can be read alone with a basic understanding of Genshin storybuilding, but StrangeDiamond has an entire group of fics and oneshots set in the same headcanon, and they integrate them really well and subtly together. Not to mention that the narrative style is really clever with making you question what is real and what is dream (a big point in this story) and the inner voices of the point-of-view characters are very compelling.

One Word to Change the World

by AgentMalkere

Fandom: Fairy Tail Collective Word Count: 43,988 (30 parts) Status: probably never coming back

「 In just one universe, Ultear called out to her mother instead of turning away and the fate of Fairy Tail and the world was irrevocably altered. These are glimpses of a world where a single word made all the difference.

In other words, welcome to the Butterfly Effect - Fairy Tail style. 」

It’s a really cute canon-divergent, and while the series makes no attempt to re-write Fairy Tail, it addresses the major events and just snippets in between. It does a good job at giving the vast cast ample spotlight, but it’s also an easy read. It’s special to me because it was the series that made me really pay attention to Bickslow in particular, and I respect that.

Vigilantis Pretium Libertatis

by aradian_nights

Fandom: Attack on Titan Word Count: 399,226 Status: Complete

「 Five years ago, an accident freed Eren Jaeger, Mikasa Ackerman, and Armin Arlelt from an experiment that forced the most extraordinary powers onto them. After five years of separation, of being raised apart to be heroes by a set of three very different adults, they meet again. As they uncover the truth behind their captivity they realize being free and being heroes are sadly nothing but an illusion. 」

This wrecked me.

I still remember when I read it. It was the beginning of 2018, and I had the flu and a lot of time on my hands, so I binge-read this. It was simultaneously the best and the worst thing I have ever done, because I resonated with it so deeply there were times I was just staring up at the ceiling wondering what was real. I empathized with the characters to a level I rarely achieve, and I empathize easily. I laughed. I cried. It was amazing.

I refer to this story in conversation to this day. It handled themes published authors have only dreamed of achieving. Heck, if Dani (the author) took out the names of the AoT cast and replaced it with new ones, it could be its own stand alone novel. It is worldbuilding from the ground up, and any fandom knowledge you take in with you is used against you like a knife leveraged against your throat. Yet, no one is out of character. It’s phenomenal. I would say more, but this is something I daren’t spoil for anybody, because you must be as wrecked as I was. Vigilantis Pretium Libertatis is a level of writing I achieve to gain as a writer myself. It is a masterpiece in every sense of the word.

Life in Glass Houses

by blueskyscribe ( @blueskyscribe )

Fandom: Transformers (Transformers Prime, Transformers: Shattered Glass) Word Count: 119,900 Status: Ongoing (maybe, I hope)

「 No one would have thought Bumblebee and Knock Out were capable of getting along, but when they're stuck in a strange new world and their only hope of survival is cooperation . . . Yeah, they're probably doomed. 」

I could be biased because Knock Out and Bumblebee are two of my favorite characters, but it really is brilliant. Two enemies, stuck together—but not in an overly cliché way. It’s the right amount of cliché, with heaps moral conflict and inner conflict and sometimes just beating each other with a broom when no one is looking. It’s also a fascinating look into what makes a character the way they are in relation to the morals they possess, and how stalwart those morals can be. I can’t help but think of this story whenever I see or write a “role reverse” or mirror-verse AU. It does an excellent job at making all of the characters engaging and their own character, despite being in a mirror-verse.

Yesterday Upon the Stair

by PitViperOfDoom ( @pitviperofdoom )

Fandom: My Hero Academia Word Count: 424,070 Status: Complete

「 Midoriya Izuku has always been written off as weird. As if it's not bad enough to be the quirkless weakling, he has to be the weird quirkless weakling on top of it.

But truthfully, the "weird" part is the only part that's accurate. He's determined not to be a weakling, and in spite of what it says on paper, he's not actually quirkless. Even before meeting All-Might and taking on the power of One For All, Izuku isn't quirkless.

Not that anyone would believe it if he told them. 」

As a person who normally doesn’t read these kind of minor canon divergences, especially at the time of reading, I frickin’ love this fic. In fact, I think YUTS gave me a deep appreciation for canon divergence fics. It’s MHA in all of its glory but it’s so much more, and even the parts that rehash canon give new light to the characters and their points of view.

I had read Viper’s work before and saw Yesterday Upon the Stair filling my inbox, and then I finally watched My Hero Academia. It was one of the first MHA fics I read and it still has a very special place in my heart. I recommend this series to people who don’t even watch MHA; in fact, there are some who might prefer the darker tones and themes of heroism vs apathy to the main series. Not to mention the writing style is phenomenal, and I aspire to be that good. It made me laugh. It made me cry. Yes, tears streaming down my face crying. It is the best ghost story I have ever read.

the Vantage Point Universe

by Aggie2011 ( @aggie2011whoop )

Fandom: The Avengers (MCU) Collective Word Count: 1,032,651 (35 parts) Status: Ongoing (just slowed down)

「 Six months after the Loki incident, Clint isn't adjusting well. When an enemy from his days in the Army comes back to haunt him, he'll be forced to face a part of his past - and to move past Loki, if he has a hope of finding his place with the Avengers. (First of a universe created to center around Clint Barton) 」

// description taken from first installment

Have you enjoyed the MCU, especially the first-era Avengers phase, but like me, were disappointed in the fact that Hawkeye was barely there? The VP universe is for you.

I honestly have a hard time remembering what was canon and what was VP. And if it’s not canon, it should be. The VP universe gave so much life to Clint and to Natasha and to all of SHIELD and even the rest of the Avengers. It’s just...so good. It’s completely immersive. It focuses a lot on Hawkeye and Black Widow from before the Avengers team-up, as well as after, and it all flows together so beautifully. Not to mention that I can be reading a mission that happened pre-series, so I know that they are going to live with all of their limbs, and I still sit there on the edge of my seat the whole time.

The OCs, minor as they are, that are created for this are also wonderfully done. I can’t believe Dan and Phil don’t exist in canon. Every character, canon or no, is engaging and dynamic, it is a pleasure to follow each point of view. The emotional turmoil is also handled very well, and the VP universe carries the MCU trend of humanizing its heroes and takes it so much further.

Ghosts of the Future

by Evan Stanley ( @evanstanleyportfolio )

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog Word Count: comic (18 issues) Status: ongoing

「 About 200 years in the future, Silver the Hedgehog is an average kid living in San Francisco... except for his strange and terrible dreams of a dying Blue Hedgehog, a Black Hedgehog, and mysterious gems called "Chaos Emeralds". What will he do, when these "figments of his imagination" appear before him in his real life? 」

// description taken from first installment

Okay so this is the only one that isn’t an Ao3 story, but rather a comic on DeviantArt. However, it is still one of my favorite stories. Even though it takes the commonalities of Sonic canon and turns them on its head, GotF really treats the characters well. There are enough familiar world elements to create intrigue, but it is set in a completely different take of the future, so there is ample opportunity for world building and being able to engage with a completely new thing. I wish SEGA put as much love in the series (namely the games, because the comics are *chef’s kiss*) and all of its possibilities as creators like Evan Stanley do.

The friendship and family relationships in GotF are so diverse and all so fantastic to witness. It’s a keynote example of the new hero and the old veterans, and both parties are active and trying their best.

Do not be alarmed by the starting art style. Sure, it’s rough around the edges at first, but then it gets better, and then it gets gorgeous, and then you’re left there so stunned that it looks like just life canon art. And then you could be like me, blinking slowly as my small brain finally connected that this Evan Stanley is in fact the Evan Stanley. GotF is an amazing fanwork, but she also draws and writes for the Official Canon comics (the IDW ones now) and that work is also phenomenal and should be supported.

Whirlwind

by Lynse ( @ladylynse )

Fandom: Danny Phantom, American Dragon: Jake Long, Miraculous Ladybug, Randy Cunningham: 9th Grade Ninja Word Count: 75,556 Status: Complete

「 Jake should be used to ominous predictions by now. Randy should know better than to blindly follow McFist. Adrien should think twice before sneaking away. And Danny really should've expected something like this when he got that phone call from Jake. (Secret Quartet fic) 」

I have to start by saying that I adore all of Lynse’s fics, and I chose this one simply because it is one of my favorites. But it’s all fantastic, one hundred percent. I also love Mirrored, the sort-of prequel to this fic, but Whirlwind just has the chaotic pure bean energy that each of the shows bring and it foils against each other so perfectly. This is the epitome of the Secret Quartet crossover, truly.

All fandoms and all characters get ample love, and the way the reader gets to see just how badly the characters’ assumptions are going is positively wonderful. It’s so easy to fall into the “I know what’s happening and so do the characters” trap, but Lynse leaps over it gracefully and lands in greatness. The fic had me smiling like a maniac one minute, and feeling sorry for my babies the next. Wonderful. Simply fantastic!

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starrykitty013 · 3 years

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Sneak Peak!! This will be a Cake Walk (oneshot)

Here’s the full fic...finally: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33658105

This takes place in my JGLEH universe (https://archiveofourown.org/series/1415002) but this oneshot could be read as a standalone :)

Enjoy!

August 7th, 2019.

That was the date that this year’s birthday fell on. Technically it was the first wednesday of August, since this month started on a Thursday, but it was basically the second week of August, so they’d let it slide. Besides the 14th of August seemed like a good date, but Ned and MJ were just so anxious to finally be spending a birthday with their best friend, because it had been 2 years since they last had - well more Ned than MJ, MJ was cool with anything.

So here they were, lounging around Peter’s - and his parent’s - little apartment/penthouse/whatever-this-place-they-were-living-was-classfied-as in Stark tower, eating junk food and marathoning Voltron - every variation of it, eating a slightly melted ice cream cake MJ bough - they bought an entire sheet cake this time, instead of a small one because Ned and MJ got paychecks now and Peter has the metabolism not to waste it.

Different location, same traditions. Sure the atmosphere of the tower was not as cozy as Ned’s cramped living room or MJ’s box apartment, but they made do. They dulled the settings on the floor to ceiling window that took up an entire wall and viewed over the city. They cuddled in blankets and made an entire pillow fort, and they made it surround them so they were forced to be closer together.

They would’ve invited everyone else in the tower, but his official birthday wasn’t until the 12th and Peter’s sure they had something planned. He kind of just wanted to keep this serenity of the three of them, even if he felt a little guilty about being exclusive. It was worth it.

It felt right.

Keeping his old traditions while preparing for the new ones that he was bound to make this year.

He hadn’t celebrated his birthday with the Avengers last year, because it was the date of the trial and he hadn’t been living with them at the time, even if like a week later he was. Everything had been so hectic and moving too fast that his birthday had barley been on any of their minds. He had spent the night with Wade and Matt goofing off in and out of their costumes though - the aults getting thoroughly plastered and Peter thinks it was only 60% for his amusement.

It was an enjoyable night. Or at least it it was shaping up to be. He liked the chill vibes that they had managed to create. It was almost like they were hanging out just like any other day, and not celebrating Peter being one year away from being a legal adult - in America at least.

His parents had walked in around 11:30ish, and they just were about to pass without looking twice at the kids lounged around and the mess of stolen blankets and pillows they probably didn’t know they owned - and they didn’t own most of them, again they were temporarily stolen, he’d give them to their respective owners again...eventually...maybe.

Ned had greeted them absently, because he was polit like that, and Nat smirked fondly at them, watching them out of the corner of her eye, while Bucky turned and nodded in acknowledgment, lips quirking up for a second at the scene. MJ gave a salute as she had a chip half in her mouth.

“Russian → ”(Hey, guys.) Peter said absently, not really looking at them as he leaned forward to grab another slice of melted cake. And that’s when Natasha paused for a second, looking frozen. Bucky had just barley managed to ram into her. It was a slight action but it made Peter pause and look up in confusion and slight alarm. His spidey sense wasn’t going off, but Nat had that look on her face where she kept it carefully neutral to not give anything away. Peter turned his head to them and sat up a bit, Ned and MJ seemed to pick up on his vibes because a moment later MJ had shifted into a slightly more alert slouch and that was followed by Ned swiveling his head to look confusedly between everyone while trying - and failing, but it’s okay Ned you are still a precious bean child that will be protected by everyone here - to be subtle about it, his anxiety kicking in a bit. “What’s up?” he said trying to maintain a casual tone. If it was an emergency, he’d know, they would’ve been more on edge. It was more likely that they had gotten taken off guard by something - which was only barley more comforting, since they usually were never taken off guard by much.

Bucky had trained his eyes on Nat, so Peter did the same. She darted her eyes quickly to something next to him and then back to Peter, Bucky followed her gaze and kept it locked on the thing she was looking at. Peter slowly moved his head to where Bucky’s eyes were trained and looked down to see the mostly melted cake, with the watery, sloppy lettering that was supposed to spell out “Congrats on not dying spider dweeb” and then a messily drawn spiderman logo, but they had eaten the cake in a way that it said “C---ats o- ying- ider dw-b” and part of the logo was cut outso it was only the lens’ of the mask showing. Peter then moved his eyes back up to Natasha, still confused over why she was so still about it.

“I thought you're birthday was the... 12th.” Her tone was still carefully neutral, but Peter could detect some tension that his friends probably didn’t pick up on. Bucky definitely did though. It almost seemed like it was hard for her to get that out, for some reason.

Peter cocked his head. “Well yeah officially.” he said. Something seemed to click for Bucky and he looked to Peter and his friends again.

“It’s the 7th.” Bucky said, in a much more genuine neutral tone.

“Yeah, it is.” MJ said sarcastically, but she seemed to tone her usual snark down a bit. Peter was inexplicably grateful for that, for some reason.

“We celebrate it on the second Wednesday of August though.” Ned explained. He had told them the story of how he officially got his birthday with Wade and the army camps earlier that day, because Ned had asked if there was a story he was previously unable to tell them. He had told them the whole truth and they accepted it without any preamble. At this point they had heard so many messed up stories about his childhood that the initial shock and horror reaction had dialed down. At first - when he first started telling them about his past that he had to keep a secret, even without all the spidey stuff like the White room and Special Forces - Ned had been in tears nearly every time and MJ would close off almost to the point of dissociation. But after nearly a year the most reaction he’d get was MJ’s concerned eyeroll and Ned’s shift so they bumped shoulders or they were closer. Still, the birthday story did get a hug out of Ned and MJ to shift a tad closer.

Bucky’s eyes flicked to Natasha and his shoulders slumped like he was holding in a sigh “Why?” Bucky asked after a beat of silence, maintaining the same casual light tone.

“Some stupid thing Wade made up.” Peter shrugged and fought the urge to look away. Why did he feel so weird about this? “Something about sticking it to the man, or society or the government or whatever.” he said looking down at his cake and putting a small bite in his mouth that he could talk around. “We did it every year and then we did it with Ned and MJ and it just stuck. It’s not a big deal, we just chill.” he mumbled more than said. There was a long pull of silence between them, with only the sounds of Allura explaining some complicated space matter to the team of palidins on the screen.

When Peter finally had the urge to look up he found himself looking at the tail end of his mother going into her bedroom and quietly shutting the door. He looked at the door for a moment then at Bucky who was doing the same, but he sighed and shot him and his friends one last supposedly reassuring smile, as if to say ‘as you were’ - it did not have it’s desired effect- and then follow after his partner, opening and shutting the door softly.

That was weird.

Peter just looked at the door for a few moments, not really sure how to feel about that. He felt his friends’ gazes on his back, and it almost felt like they had no clue what to do with that strange interaction either. It hadn’t left bad vibes, but it hadn’t really left any good ones either.

He turned back to the movie, MJ and Ned seemingly following his lead and going back to marathoning. But instead of listening to Keith and Lance’s 143th argument of the show, he was listening to the quiet murmurs coming from the room. Loud enough that Peter could pick up on the sound with his enhanced hearing but too soft to actually make any words out.

Eventually, after about 10 minutes of not knowing what was up and the feeling something was off still lingering in his mind, he stood up and made his way to the door. HIs confused friends’ gazes followed him up and to where he was walking.

“Be right back.” he said absently before entering the room and closing the door just a quietly as his parents’.

#fanfic #spidey #starry's writing #Peter parker #natasha romanoff #Bucky Barnes #michelle jones #ned leeds #birthday #happy birthday Peter!!!#spooner boiiiiiii #unfinished

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fanficsforheartandsoul · 4 years

Text

The Dragonborn | M!Reader x Geralt of Rivia | Part II

Note: I split the oneshot because damn 12k does nobody want to read in one go xD

Fandoms: The Witcher (TV Series), The Elder Scrolls: Skyrim

Warnings: Non-Canon Story, Swearing, Gore, Slight OOC

Summary: Geralt and Jaskier meet a stranger in the woods while on the hunt for a special monster. They decide to team up but neither does Geralt realize that his prey is close to him nor does the stranger notice he's the one being hunted...

Word Count: 6938

If you want to be tagged in my stories send me a pm with the fandom/character name!

Please note that The Witcher is supposed to be around the Middle-Age. Homophobia existed.

Part I

_______

A few hours later, after they had eaten the rabbit, they began to look for tracks of the monster. There were a lot of them. For example, the scorched moss where Geralt almost turned into roasted meat, the dark footprints in the dirt, and the fallen trees.

The witcher was impressed by how good the warrior from Keizaal could search for tracks.

“You see that, Jaskier? The way the claws dig in the ground? It means the claws of the dovah are really big. That’s pretty unusual for female dragons, so it’s obvious we’re dealing with a male. But we uh... know that because Odahviing is male.”

While Jaskier and Y/N genuinely searched for any signs he just stared at the foreigner. He somehow felt like he had found a kindred spirit in the man standing in front with his back facing him.

A weird association, but there were only a few things that could really impress Geralt.

Magic, Fighting Skills, and usually breasts.

Which made him sound like a skirt chaser, but that wasn't it. It just meant what it meant. Dicks definitely didn't attract hi-

"What the hell?"

He lifted his eyes from the lower body of Y/N, and his breath hitched when those e/c eyes pierced his. Did he see...?

"The footprints are gone!"

Oh. That.

"That does make sense... Or not? It's a dragon, after all? They can fly. Or not? Can they?"

Jaskier stepped in front of him and obstructed his view on the other. Geralt turned and touched his face. His cheeks were burning. What's gotten into him? He remembered something Yennefer had told him once as a half-joke.

I sometimes think that if I haven't met you, you would have chosen someone who fights like you, thinks like you, who lives like you. And from what I believe that someone would have been a man. Because it needs a brute to move a brute's heart.

While his head was filled with thousand thoughts, Y/N and the bard inspected the tracks closer.

"It can't be that he took off. Do you see how the footprints are as deep as the others? If he wanted to fly away, they would be deeper because he had needed to shift his weight."

"Is that something you learned while hunting for the other dragons with the Dragonborn?"

The man from Keizaal nodded. Some locks fell into his face, and his expression was thoughtful while he searched for a plausible explanation. Geralt could see every feature of his sharp e/c eyes.

They were different from Yennefer's violet ones, their spark was different, but for other people, they must be as enthralling as the eyes of the sorceress to him. That's at least what he believed. They had a particular pull. He didn't feel it, but it was there. Puzzling, but powerful.

A cough pulled him away from Y/N's eyes, and Jaskier stared at him with a grin.

"What?" he asked, his voice almost defensive.

"Nothing," responded his friend with a knowing undertone. What the hell was going on?

"Well, I can't think of anything that happened. Witcher, what about you?"

The mesmerizing eyes turned to him, and he blinked. What was the question?

Thankfully, I always have a good answer ready.

"Hmm."

He shifted and knelt to see the footprints up close. They had a certain distance to each other as if the dragon was walking slowly. Y/N was right; he couldn't have flown away, the marks were too shallow. Either he disappeared into thin air, or the monster had an amazing control when it came to his weight.

"Strange..." was all he said.

He focused on the sounds around them, but there was nothing extraordinary. Just the whistle of the wind, a few birds singing, and the steady heartbeats of the other two men. It was a dead end.

"Fuck."

He looked up, surprised that he and the warrior of Keizaal said the same thing at the same time. Y/N shot him a grin, and Geralt snorted.

"Maybe we should try to set up a trap"

He turned and watched Jaskier's expression. It was a good idea, and they didn't have any other options, besides he wasn't really in the mood to search the whole forest for the dragon. The h/c haired man agreed and pulled a bow out of his satchel. The bard's eyes once again widened.

"I want a bag like this too."

"If you don't want to carry your things anymore, you can give them to me. I'll store them."

Jaskier smiled brightly, and Y/N returned it. Something flared up in Geralt's chest, but he ignored it. Damn bruises make my chest hurt.

The bard gave the foreigner their things, and he put them in his satchel.

"Let's think about the trap," the warrior tested the string of his bow and then focused his eyes on Geralt and Jaskier.

"Dragons are usually very picky about their food, but I belie- know that Odahviing is fine with deer meat. We should hunt some."

And they did. With the help of Geralt's tracking skills and crossbow and the Y/N's bow, they easily got two does. Although it took a while to find them since most animals steered free of the area where the dragon rampaged.

Geralt and Jaskier only watched, while Y/N slashed the throats of the already dead animals.

"Dovahs have a keen sense of smell; we have to cover our own scent."

He continued to drench his hands with the blood and even smeared some on his neck and armor. When he couldn't hear the other two approaching, Y/N turned around and tilted his head questioningly.

"U-Uh, what did you say?" asked the bard and avoided his gaze.

“What? Did I say something wrong? Can you... Is it a sacrilege to use doe bloo-"

Geralt interrupted him.

"We couldn't understand what you said because you spoke in a different language."

Y/N widened his eyes, and an apologetic look crossed his face.

"I'm sorry...”

Jaskier’s slightly odd expression concerned him and he examined the witcher. Geralt was more intrigued than scared by the fact the atmosphere in the woods seemed to have changed as soon as the other spoke in his probably native language.

The fact that Y/N’s voice got a lot deeper while he spoke, caused a shiver to run down his spine. The foreigner apologized again and then added:

“I said the dragon could smell us. We should cover our scent with the blood."

Jaskier didn't seem to like the idea, but the witcher nodded and followed his advice.

Soon the bard's and his hands were stained with doe blood. Geralt was unaffected by it since he already got used to it by hunting monsters for years, but the other man looked a little pale.

The warrior watched their actions and then approached the white-haired man. His yellow eyes followed all of his movements.

"You should also put some on your throat... It’s a place where a lot of sweat gathers."

As soon as Y/N touched his collarbone and neck, Geralt stiffened. Actually, he froze. Something about another man touching his carotid artery was really intimate. His nose caught the smell of iron, moss, and smoke.

Someone who lives like you.

Yennefer's words replayed in his mind, and he couldn't stop himself from unconsciously moving his head closer to the other man.

The warrior was only a few centimeters smaller than him, his head reached up to his eyebrows. The hands on his throat were rough and slippery, but they touched him with such gentleness, Geralt had to shiver.

He gulped, and his adam's apple pressed against Y/N's palm. The afternoon sun danced on the other man’s scars, and eyelashes and Geralt wondered if every man had such long ones. He breathed in and closed his eyes.

Is this the essence of a kindred spirit?

Suddenly Y/N's hands disappeared from his throat, and he could no longer feel the warrior's presence so close to him.

“Put some on your cheeks too.”

A little disappointed, he opened his eyes and noticed that the other man had already turned and now approached Jaskier just to do the same thing to the bard that he did to him.

Y/N's bare hands touched his friend's throat, and neck and Geralt suddenly had a very, very dark thought.

Abruptly he turned around and covered his lower face with his hand.

Did I... About this man...?

He could feel how heat crept up his neck, and he questioned the emotionlessness that every witcher was supposed to have.

What the fuck was he thinking? He has Yennefer!

Or at least had. Their relationship was somewhat in the stars at the moment. After their rather big fight last time...

Geralt didn't know why that mattered though.

He buried the fluttery feeling that had sprouted in his chest when the other man had touched him.

What he didn't realize, Y/N's heartbeat was pounding faster after the physical contact they had just shared.

After they had covered their scent with deer blood, they also smeared some dirt on their armor and clothes, much to the dismay of Jaskier. Then they decided to set up their stakeout one hundred meters away from the carcasses.

It was close enough to quickly attack, but also far away enough for them to be safe in case the dragon wanted to grill them. They sat on the mossy ground and leaned on the trees surrounding them.

"Now, all we have to do is wait."

Patience was something every hunter was supposed to have, and both Geralt and Y/N obviously had it. The bard, on the other hand...

The witcher's left eyebrow twitched in annoyance. After his friend had whistled, he began to eye the two men. Jaskier's stare felt like a cockroach was crawling over his body. He had a bad premonition about the weird behavior of the brown-haired man. He glared at him, but he just grinned.

Stop staring!

Geralt turned his head away and noticed how the warrior from Keizaal seemed to concentrate on something around his neck. He clenched and unclenched his fist with an absent expression.

He watched for a while and then realized that Y/N was holding a ring that he wore on a necklace.

A sinking feeling appeared in his gut, and he suddenly felt like a mountain weighed his shoulders down.

"You have a wife?"

His mouth was faster than his thoughts.

The man startled and then shared eye contact with him.

"Something like that..."

Geralt frowned a little. What kind of answer was that? He stared at Y/N with a hard look, but the other added nothing else, just sighed and hid the ring under his heavy armor.

The witcher only grunted and turned to face the direction of their trap.

Shit, why was he so annoyed?

The idea of the warrior having a doting wife waiting for him in Keizaal made his heart clench, and his chest felt tight.

This time he couldn't blame the bruises on his rips.

He finally acknowledged that the h/c haired man intrigued him and caused some rather odd feelings to rise.

But this... Why... Why the fuck was he feeling jealous?

And it wasn't even that the man had a wife, no; he was jealous because some woman had Y/N.

That dragon must have indeed killed some of his brain cells.

His yellow eyes traveled back to the other man's figure. His broad shoulders were hidden under his armor, but Geralt had seen them.

Just after he had woken up, he had seen the man in regular clothes. Although he had worn a shirt, the witcher had been able to see how muscular Y/N was.

His body seemed to be covered with scars. Tiny cuts on his hands, big slashes on his collarbone, and even some nasty ones close to his throat. Geralt was sure there were many more, but he wasn't able to see them. They were proof of fierce fights and the experiences the man had had to go through.

Was it weird that they attracted him?

Like the hands in his dreams that had traveled over his, the Butcher of Blaviken wanted to trace Y/N's scars with his fingers. He wanted to feel how his body had healed him, wanted to know the story of every scratch and bruise, wanted to touch the energetic muscles bursting with strength.

A flame of desire began to burn in his body, and he lowered his head to hide the dark expression he wore on his face.

These thoughts needed to stop; they would only become problematic in the future.

Geralt scratched his neck and then examined the brown-red flakes under his fingernails.

He felt a stare on his body again, and he sighed.

God damn Jaskier...

When he lifted his head, he was surprised to see that it wasn't the bard who looked at him but the warrior from Keizaal. Y/N's e/c eyes were unfathomable, but he showed a somber expression. He paused for a second, and the world seemed to turn slower.

The witcher could see every blemish on the other man's skin, every mole, every freckle. Geralt breathed in slowly, and the warrior's hair swayed in the wind.

He's so handso... The wind?

Geralt abruptly stood up.

"The-the wind turned!" he muttered and gulped. His cheeks felt hot, and he bit his lip. Jaskier frowned.

"Doesn't this mean that our smell would be...?"

Y/N sighed and nodded.

"Is a lake close by?"

The bard shook his head.

"But, we're only a few miles away from the sea."

The witcher watched the other man closely while he questioned the other's exhausted expression.

"The wind has turned due to the late afternoon. We should move."

Geralt and Jaskier only watched when the other stood up and grabbed his bow.

"Why not wait until the wind turns again?" asked the bard, and he followed after the h/c haired man.

"That won't be the case until tomorrow. The sea has saved the warmth from the sun while the land cooled down. We have to wait until the land is warmer again."

Jaskier eyed Y/N carefully. Geralt could already guess what he was thinking. He understood what the warrior from Keizaal meant. He learned about it when he was training to become a witcher.

"So, what are we going to do now?"

They both contemplated for a while and then Geralt spoke:

"Maybe we should indeed wait for tomorrow. I think it would be best if you tell us some more things about your dragon before we storm into this unprepared."

He tried to suppress a triumphant smile when the other two agreed. Of course, he wouldn't admit that he actually just wanted to spend some more time with Y/N.

He had a thought that they wouldn't meet again after this whole thing was over.

"Then what do we do about the deer corpses?" asked Jaskier, and it was a reasonable question. If they left them, they could attract other animals...

Both the witcher and the warrior looked at each other and then huffed. The bard just stared between them, and his face gradually darkened.

"You're not... thinking about eating them are-are you?"

Two hours later, they had put up a camp close to a clear pond and already roasted some rabbit meat.

They had buried the does, and although the physical labor was annoying, Jaskier was relieved that the two brutes didn't decide to eat them. The dead animals had been lying in the sun for a long time after all.

Y/N was peeling his armor off and thinking about the situation he was in right now.

The fact that they were on the hunt for a dragon excited him. Not the actual part of the chase but the fact that he would meet another specimen of his current best friends.

After he had killed Alduin, he had lost himself in a killing spree. Paarthurnax had warned him to get a hold of himself, but he wasn’t able to. His dragon soul caused him to lose all rational thoughts.

When he finally realized that he could learn so much more about Akatosh and the dovahs, he had already committed mass slaughter, and Odahviing and the wise dragon from The Throat of the World were the last ones of their species.

Or that's at least what the three of them had thought. But they were wrong, and now he had the chance to meet another dragon! And probably also the chance to go home. If he wanted to.

But first, they had to get a hold of him.

"Jaskier?"

He faced the bard who currently played on his lute while also watching the fire. He hummed in response and looked up.

"We should wash off the blood in the pond. Do you want to go first?"

The man seemingly wanted to say yes but then shook his head and responded with a slight grin:

"No, you can go first. I'll watch the rabbit."

Y/N furrowed his brows but then smiled and thanked him. He left the pile of his armor and Jaskier behind and wandered to the pond, which was located behind some trees and big boulders.

The view from the camp was obscured, which meant he had some privacy. Not that he cared much, but he would rather not show his back to the two other men. Since it showed one more change he had gone through in the last year.

Although Geralt wasn't currently in the camp anyway, he left to get some more branches for the fire.

The man carefully opened his shirt and took it off. His boots, pants, and underwear soon followed suit, and he stepped to the shore where some reed grew.

The water was cold when he stepped in, but he endured it. His muscles just tensed a little.

Y/N walked in further until the water reached his abdomen. He wasn’t even halfway in the pond, it was fairly big.

He sucked in some air when he lowered himself into the water until it reached his chin. He had to rub his skin a little, but then the water around him turned slightly red.

The man watched how the deer blood twirled, and he stared at his reflection. The red blood on his cheeks conjured a cursed memory in his head, and he heaved.

Hii los dur, Dovahkiin. Hi aal krii zu'u nu nuz zu'u ahrk pah dii Zeymah fen koraav hi mah wah hin daan. You are cursed, Dragonborn. You may kill me now, but all my brethren and I will see how you fall to your doom.

The ominous words of the last dovah he had killed echoed in his mind. He hugged himself, and his fingers touched his shoulder blades.

The skin was still shedding. Y/N sighed. What was going on with his body? The shedding had started a few months ago but he had no idea why.

And since it only started after he had arrived here he couldn’t ask Odahviing or Paarthurnax.

He breathed out slowly and then dived underwater.

The coldness cleared his head a little, and he relaxed slightly. His feet left the muddy ground, and for a moment, he floated.

If I could just stay like this...

His hand clenched to a fist, and he released some Magicka. The small pressure on his nose disappeared, and he automatically breathed in.

Air filled his lungs, and the Dragonborn smiled. Peace washed over him, and he spread his arms.

He slowly floated to the surface, and his face broke through it. Water droplets pearled from his cheeks and eyelashes, and he stared into the sky. The tree crowns whistled, and he watched how some clouds traveled across the darkening sky. The sun was already setting.

This was the ending of the first day together with the bard and the witcher. Geralt's face came to his mind, and he bit his lip.

The white-haired man reminded him of Farkas, but he was also completely different. His attitude for example. Farkas was openly benevolent and also voiced his concerns. The witcher seemed to be reluctant. Although Y/N was able to feel that he cared deeply for his friend.

They shared the same keen instincts, but Geralt's came from the harsh trials witchers had to go through while his love had them because he had been a werewolf.

I can't believe that you chose Farkas over Vilkas. Do you like strength more than brains?

Aela's voice sounded in his head, and Y/N huffed.

The huntress had probably been right. He was attracted to the Butcher of Blaviken. These yellow eyes... They had something animalistic and penetrating that stirred an urge deep inside of him.

He sighed and put his hands on his face. Then he scrubbed and splashed his face with water.

Suddenly, he caught sight of a person standing behind a tree at the other side of the pond after he had wiped droplets from his eyes and opened them again.

Y/N breath stopped, and a wail got caught in his throat. He abruptly stood up again, although it felt like he had still no ground under his feet. What...?

Light blue eyes framed by black war paint stared at him with a resentful look.

"Fa-Far..."

His voice failed, but he agitatedly began to move across the pond, trying to reach his lost lover and husband.

Breath erratic and tears were pricking in the corners of his eyes, but at that moment, he only felt happiness and relief. Farkas was alive!

"D-Dii Shul!" My Sunshine!

The ground suddenly declined, he lost his footing and dived involuntarily underwater.

Nevertheless, he was still able to hear the words that had left the lips he had kissed so often.

"So, you've abandoned me."

An ice-cold feeling washed over him, and his heart broke.

No, that's not true! I would never! You were gone! You left me! You died!

A disturbing scream erupted from his throat, and the skin around his mouth tore. The scream turned into a roar, and he clawed at his face. The e/c eyes shook, and the black pupils turned to slits.

Shreds of flesh got caught by growing claws, and gigantic fangs emerged from the man's jaws.

H/C hair parted, shrunk, and gave way for two enormous horns. His whole body shook, and his limbs twisted and cracked. His spine grew longer, broke through his lower back, and two bony wings arose from his back.

The murky water of the pond turned red and swirled around the tremoring creature who rapidly grew until it was able to stand on the pond bed. Flesh turned hard and into black scales. New tissue engulfed its wings and tail and also got covered by rockhard scales.

Burning heat crawled up its throat, and furious flames burst from its maw. It broke through the pond's surface, and the splashed water evaporated immediately.

The dragon spread its wings, and they created waterfalls when they left the water. The wingspan was as big as half of the pond, and when it pulled them closer to its body ready for takeoff, the leaves and needles of the surrounding trees shook.

A thunderous boom announced the beast's presence, and it tensed its huge muscles.

When it thrust off the pond bed, the water turned into waves and flooded over the shore and soaked shoes and clothes. Branches broke like grass when the dragon's wings grazed them, and trees lost all their leaves from the harsh wind which got created.

A scent caught the dragon’s attention and it whipped its head around. A triumphant roar shook the earth when it dashed towards the direction the smell came from.

The beast ignored the scared brown-haired human that stared at it from a small campsite.

Geralt was grabbing some more branches when he saw some Celandine, and he swiftly decided to take them with him. They were always helpful, after all.

Putting the branches on the ground, he knelt and carefully tore the flowers and the not yet bloomed buds from their stems.

While he stored them, his thoughts trailed off to the mysterious man who accompanied him and Jaskier.

Y/N had sparked something inside of him, and now he was questioning his heart, which confused him even more since the person he found interesting was a man.

On the other hand, he couldn't quite tell if the feeling in his chest was something along the lines of romantic attraction or just common interest.

Deep down in Geralt's heart, he knew that him eyeing the other man's ass was definitely not something one would call a platonic interest, but he just couldn't admit that he, who never thought about other men like that, suddenly liked one.

He didn't feel disgusted, but the thought alarmed him.

He had seen a lot of things during his time as a witcher, and relationships between two men were never something that ended well. Various churches took care of that.

An image in his head made his fists clench unconsciously.

And there was still Yennefer. They never openly ended their relationship so... Was he still involved with her? He couldn't tell.

The Butcher of Blaviken sighed and then noticed a pebble in the moss. It had white streaks over its grey shape, and they reminded him of the scars in the foreigner's face.

Was he seriously associating weird things to Y/N now?

Maybe the other cursed him.

While he pondered some more about the other man, it took a while for him to notice that the forest had turned unnaturally silent.

Birds stopped singing as if they held their breaths in fear, and suddenly a roar disrupted the silence. It came from far away, but Geralt was able to hear it loud and clear because of his mutated hearing.

He abruptly stood up and turned towards the direction. It came from the camp, and Geralt's heart sank.

Please no.

He disregarded the branches he had meticulously collected and started to rush back the way he came from. Thankfully he had taken his swords with him, and he unsheathed the silver one.

The image of the bard and the foreigner being killed carried his feet forward and pushed him to almost inhumane speed.

He wasn't even halfway back when a shadow cast on the moss stopped him in his tracks. A gigantic black dragon soared through the sky, and his wings caused the surrounding trees to shake. Geralt could feel the wind pressure, and the aura that the beast released caused a shiver to run down his spine.

The witcher grinned darkly. That bastard had an impressive bloodthirst. Geralt's hunter instincts wanted to fight that monster, but his heart worried for his best friend and his potential love interest.

He cursed himself for not taking his small bag with the various vials with potions and bombs, but he had no time to get annoyed because the dragon suddenly dived down, and he had to roll out of the way or else he would have been crushed.

When he stood up again and turned, he came face to face with the beast's massive head, and his heart skipped a beat.

Y/N fought against such big monsters? Repeatedly?

His respect for the other man increased significantly.

Geralt couldn't avoid his legs to tense, but the dragon didn't attack. Instead, its e/c eyes examined him, and the witcher wondered if the monster's pupils acted like a human's because they widened considerably.

This is a dovah...

The beast was at least as big as a typical villager house, and Geralt was sure that the spikes on its body would cause massive damage to any attacker. The black scales seemed impenetrable, and the monster slayer seriously questioned his chances of survival.

He had already felt it before when he had run from the dragon. It wasn't an enemy who he could overpower. If he had to fight, it would be either an overpriced victory or death. But escaping wasn't an option anymore, the dragon's tail had trapped him before the beast.

His grip around his sword tightened, and he was ready to use Quen on himself when the beast shifted and held its head up high. A growl escaped from its throat, and Geralt tensed even more. Unexpectedly, the dragon spoke:

"Dii rii lovaas fah hi. Wo los hi? Hi los ni rok."

The witcher obviously didn't understand, but the voice of the dragon shook him to the core. It was as if someone was screaming in his ear, and he had to press his hands on them. For that, he carelessly let go of his sword, but he felt like his eardrums would explode at any time.

His chest tingled, and the echo of the dragon's word resounded through his whole body. Geralt's legs gave out, and he fell to his knees.

The beast lowered its head until its throat almost touched the ground, and then it snorted.

Hot air blew his hair back, and the Butcher of Blaviken came to his senses again. He needed to get his sword back! Right when he stretched out his hand to take his silver sword, the dragon crept forward until its snout was dangerously close.

Geralt froze. If the monster decided to eat him now, he would have no time to react. This was the end.

The realization hit him, and regret washed over him like a seastorm. There were many things in his life that he hadn't resolved yet—many things he wanted to achieve and also many things he wanted to try.

E/c eyes showed up in his mind, and his heart burned. If the dragon ate him now, would they meet in death?

His eyes flickered to the dragon, and that's when he realized something.

Although he had no time to elaborate the thought because the dragon moved its head forward until there was merely the distance of a hand between him and the beast.

He breathed out slowly, and his witcher heart beat faster. He wanted to face his enemy to the last second, but after so many fights, he thought that closing his eyes and embracing death that way seemed more peaceful and freeing. So he closed them and took one last breath.

I'm sorry, Ciri.

Seconds passed, where he only heard his heartbeat pounding in his ears. Until wind brushed his hair in his face, and he heard a sniff. A rumble shook the earth, and he slowly opened his eyes again.

The dragon breathed in and sniffed, its eyes closed, and Geralt couldn't believe it when the beast closed the distance, and the scaly snout touched his chest. Black shiny scales only a few centimeters from his face.

He searched the dragon's eyes, but they were closed. The rumble sounded again, and if he didn't know any better, the witcher would have guessed that the monster was humming.

When it opened its eyes again, and yellow and e/c met, Geralt had an unbelievable thought, and he whispered:

"Y-Y/N?"

The look in the dragon's eyes changed, and it pulled its head back abruptly.

A growl erupted from the beast's throat, and it only took a matter of seconds for it to tense its muscles and take off the ground.

Geralt was left in a daze, panic, and realization the only thing he believed to have seen in the dragon's expression.

Leaves fluttered to the ground, and the deep claw marks in the dirt before him were the only proof for the monster's presence.

What... What just happened?

The dragon had touched him. He slowly lifted his hand and put it on his chest. It's warm. The dovah had an unexpectedly high body temperature.

Why did it...? Y/N... Was it really him? H-How...

He remembered something the foreigner had told them.

His dragon soul was too much for his human body, and he slowly turned into a dovah.

"The dovahkiin..."

Geralt lifted himself off the ground and took off running to the direction the dragon left for.

The dragon didn't make it far.

Geralt saw him soaring through the sky and circling above a clearing in the forest. The witcher could see a small hut standing at the clearing border, and he remembered another thing that Y/N had told him and Jaskier.

I've been staying here in the forest for a few weeks in a hut half a mile from here.

Geralt slowly realized that his intuition was probably correct.

When he arrived at the clearing, the black dragon had already landed.

Although it was more like a crash. Long furrows plowed the forest ground. But the Butcher of Blaviken couldn't see the dragon lying there because a strange fog obstructed his view. He was hesitant about approaching the steam, but he really wanted to know if his theory was correct. A voice interrupted his twisting thoughts:

"Bormah, Bormah... Aak dovah!"

It was deep and raspy, and he didn't understand what it said, but Geralt could recognize it instantly. It was him.

Y/N was the dragon.

His whole body hurt.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?"

Blue eyes watched him with a worried expression. He didn't reply. What was there to say? The dovah needed to die. He was the only one capable of killing them.

Why couldn't he understand?

"Think about it, Y/N. You're one of them, so you shouldn-"

"Don't you dare compare me to them! I AM THE DRAGONBORN! Dii Zahkrii kriin Dovah ni aak niin!"

He knew he went too far as soon as he saw the other's expression.

Farkas stared at him with slightly widened eyes.

"Control yourself, Dovahkiin. Or else disaster will fall upon you and the ones you love."

Arngeir stepped forward and put a shoulder on his lover's shoulder. He could feel how his pupils flickered. Anger welled in his stomach.

"Don't touch him..."

His voice was low and threatening. Farkas scoffed, but his face only showed hurt.

"Don't worry about me, Dragonborn."

The distance in his words was like a thorn in his heart. The idea that Farkas couldn't understand his thoughts tore his heart in two. Y/N only watched when his significant other walked out of the room, Arngeir following him.

"Wa-Wait, Farkas, no!"

He reached out his hand to stop him, but the other man was already so far away.

"Akatosh, Akatosh, help me!"

Tears welled up in his eyes, and a wail escaped his lips.

Arngeir was right. Disaster fell upon him.

The skin shedding on his back, his pupils turning to slits, the increased usage of Dovahzul, all were signs for his slow transformation.

He couldn't believe that the stories Odahviing had told him jokingly were real. His dragon soul was changing his body and personality.

And now it had happened. He turned into a dragon.

How many times had he already done that? The witcher mentioned that the monster they were hunting tormented the villagers.

What had he done?!

The pain he felt after transforming was nothing compared to the pain in his heart. Y/N became the monster he had thought he was slaying when he had eradicated all the dragons from Skyrim.

The scars he had received from all the dovah burned, and shame clung to his heart.

Why didn't he listen to Arngeir?

The greybeard was wise and only wanted his best after the dragonborn distanced himself from the Blades. His loved one died because he didn't listen!

And now he... He turned into an inhumane beast.

Suddenly he remembered the bard. Did he attack him?! A sinking feeling struck his gut.

Please, no, no, NO!

What about Geralt?

Oh Talos... I have to return to the camp!

He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids were heavy. He groaned.

What if the two others were bleeding out while he laid here? If the witcher died... Y/N was sure he could never forgive himself.

Farkas's death was something that he could slowly overcome, although it took him years, and he still hadn't let him go but... If the witcher's death joined, he was sure his shoulders would give in under all the regret.

Just imagining how these beautiful yellow eyes lost their light, he couldn't take it.

He didn't realize it immediately, but his heart was already in the hands of Geralt. He had already lost.

Y/N finally regained some strength, and he used it to open his eyes. His vision was blurry, but he could see that the sky had already turned dark blue.

He knew what lurked in the forest at night.

The thought reminded him again of the witcher. What an irony that it took the white-haired man less than a day to sweep him off his feet. It was the complete opposite with Farkas. Maybe they weren't that similar at all.

He turned on his side and soon realized that his back felt different. The cold wind gave his arms goosebumps, but his back felt perfectly warm. He lifted his arm and cricked it to reach his shoulderblade. When his fingers grazed his back, he sucked in some air.

That definitely wasn't flesh. That smooth texture... Y/N would recognize it everywhere. He had felt it so many times after all.

His back was full of scales.

Panic and adrenaline gave him strength, and he sat up, ignoring the pain that bolted through his torso. Only now did he realize that he was completely naked.

That shocked him less than the fact that only a few meters away stood the Butcher of Blaviken with wide eyes, his sword in his hand ready to attack.

"Y-You..." Geralt didn’t continue.

Y/N opened his mouth but didn't say anything as soon as he saw how the other man flinched.

His heart pounded loud in his ears, and he felt light-headed. He breathed in, it sounded strained.

A smile crept on his lips, and he grinned exhausted.

"Thank Talos, you're alive..."

The witcher didn't know what to respond.

He was frozen although he couldn't tell if it was because the person before him was a fire-spitting dragon or because the man was butt naked. Something that usually wouldn't impress him but after realizing that Y/N attracted him... He was conflicted.

"You... you turned into a dragon," he finally said with a neutral tone.

The man sitting in the crater nodded slowly. He looked as lost as Geralt felt.

Did he not know?

"Are you... Are you the dovahkiin?"

Y/N nodded again, and he lowered his head.

The witcher could see the shame on his face. After receiving this information, he didn't know what to do with it. It should probably agitate him, all the villagers that had their cattle stolen and all the lost prey on hunts, but Geralt felt nothing. The shock was perhaps too deep.

One is a sorceress, one a dragon. It seems like I fall in love with extraordinary people. Wait...

His eyes found the e/c ones. Did he really...? Y/n watched him with a conflicted expression.

"Do you want to kill me?"

The question surprised him; he hadn't thought about it. But he opposed it.

"Should I?"

His voice had a challenging undertone, but it sounded light, and his heart fluttered a little when the other man smiled weakly.

Geralt lowered his sword. Y/N didn't feel like a threat; in fact, he looked defeated.

The h/c haired man leaned back and exposed his torso. The witcher was right. Even his chest was full of scars, and most of them looked like claw marks.

A strong warrior.

"I caused you a lot of trouble. If I have to pay for it, I'll gladly do it with my life. It's not worth much anymore."

These words caused him to frown. The man sounded like he had already given up. Where was his will to fight?

The imposing aura Geralt had felt when he stood tall as a dragon was gone without a trace. This man was broken. He couldn't imagine what Y/N had gone through, but he wouldn't let a warrior like him die a fool's death.

"It's true. You caused me a lot of trouble..."

The Dragonborn watched him with an apologetic expression. Geralt eyed him from head to toe, his stare burning.

"But instead of paying with your life, why not pay me with something else?"

Y/N blinked and stared blankly, then he blushed furiously. The witcher’s heart skipped a beat.

Did Y/N also...?

It excited Geralt that he apparently knew what he was hinting at and reacted this strongly. It meant he had a chance. Then he remembered the ring. Geralt examined the naked man and realized the necklace was gone.

"Your ring..."

Y/N touched his throat. Nothing was there. Geralt expected his face to turn panicked, but only a melancholic expression showed up.

"It's fine. It's time to move on."

The witcher didn't pry further, but he knew he didn't have to. The smile on Y/N's lips said enough.

"So, how am I supposed to repay you?"

The man lifted an eyebrow and grinned. He gulped, he didn't expect the man to be this willing. Suddenly he felt bad about his desires.

"Toss me a coin."

The warrior from Keizaal tilted his head and puckered his lips. Then he smiled, and his e/c eyes turned into crescents. They looked happy. But most importantly, human.

Warmth spread in his chest.

He had a thought that his future would be a lot more interesting with the dovahkiin by his side and Jaskier.

Wait...

Both of them opened their mouth and shouted:

“Jaskier!”

_______

Endnote: Congrats! You made it! Like I said at the beginning, this fic is based on a headcanon of mine. Where the dragonborn slowly turns into a dragon because of his dragon soul. The dovahkiin is able to live a lot longer than any other human due to his dragon nature and it’s taking a toll on him. The scales are something I had imagined from the start. This is a drawing of my dragonborn which I used as inspiration for this fic:

I wanted the story to end in a rather light tone which some might not find appropriate but I honestly got a little exhausted. I wrote this as a oneshot of 12k words, which was definitely too much xD Writing so much is new to me. But I’m proud that I made it this far :)

I wanted Yennefer to play a part here but more like the one of a former lover. She was also a tool to give Geralt a reason why he likes Y/N since he’s officially straight in canon.

I already decided to create a fic where Geralt gets taken to Skyrim but I haven’t decided if it’s going to be a sequel to this yet. We’ll see I guess.

Some sentences that were spoken in Dovahzul were purposely not translated because it was either from Geralt’s sight or it was to show that the dragonborn was slowly changing. But they meant the following:

Dii rii lovaas fah hi. Wo los hi? Hi los ni rok = My soul sings for you. Who are you? You are not him (as in Farkas).

Dii Zahkrii kriin Dovah ni aak niin = My Sword slays dragons not help them

Thank you for reading and being patient with me :D

255 notes · View notes

glacecakes · 3 years

Text

The Life and Times of a Tiny Alchemist (1/?)

A series of oneshots set in the universe of Alchemy Lullaby (or, Dadgene and baby Varian). Eugene, Rapunzel, and Varian's life as a family, and the people who helped make it happen.

Current: Set post AL. Quirin adopts a young boy of his own, and bonds with the parents of his son's best friends.

I return! With more baby! There's never enough, all praise be unto him I have no idea how long this series is gonna be, tbh, the 5 is just a placeholder. I may post 20, I may only do 3. Who knows! Not me! I do have a lot of ideas though, lol. Reading AL (link in rb) is highly recommended, but you don't have to if you don't want to. TLDR Eugene adopts Varian, Ulla was a jerk and she's dead now. Hooray! Some of these will be cowritten by the lovely Finnoky who I love very much uwu

Ben is owned by @finnoky and @aj-illustrated :) he's Quirin's adopted son and he is a mini menace. I love him.

Quirin fidgeted awkwardly from where he stood across from to Eugene. It was weird to be back in the palace after… everything. Varian was still afraid of him, and he didn’t blame him at all. Neither did he blame Eugene giving him a distrusting look. But he wasn’t the main focus here. No. The focus was on a small figure currently staring Varian down.

If Varian was small for his age, Ben was even smaller. Though to be fair, Ben was younger; Varian had just turned five, if he remembered correctly, while Ben was still four. His curly black hair and cool brown skin stood out against the others of Dark Kingdom descent, but to Quirin, he was going to fit right in just fine. After all, both he and Varian had a common background.

Following the… incident in Old Corona, Quirin had taken permanent residence. It felt weird to live in what remained of Ulla’s old house, but the farm life suited him better than he’d thought. Almost as if it was what he should’ve done. Well, no use thinking of the past, he told himself. Only looking forward from here on out. Perhaps that’s what drew him to the Corona orphanage.

Varian wasn’t his son, not anymore, he’d accepted that. But now that he had the idea of fatherhood in his mind, he couldn’t let it go. He wanted to raise a child, wanted to be a father. So he’d trekked down and found Ben, with his button nose and roguish charm. The fact that he was Varian’s age was merely a coincidence, but perhaps the first step to repairing relations could be for the two to meet.

“So…” Eugene drawled, smacking his lips together. An awkward silence ensued. Honestly, what are you supposed to do in this situation? It felt a bit like Quirin had just grabbed a kid in an attempt to win Varian’s trust, but that’s not right… right? Quirin’s not that kind of guy, after all.

Then again… Eugene didn’t see him as the type to hurt Varian, but here we are.

“So.” Quirin hummed. Varian clung a bit closer to his dad when he spoke, fear clouding his baby blue eyes. To be fair, Ben was nervous too, his hands shaking where they were bunched into Quirin’s pants.

“Are you going to introduce us?” Eugene raised a brow, and Quirin startled.

“Oh! Yes. This is Ben, he’s four years old, and he’s going to be staying with me for a while.” He smiled down at the little boy. “Ben, this is Eugene and his son, Varian. Varian’s your age!”

Ben pouted, eyes narrowing in on Varian. Who was this kid? What made him so special that New Dad wanted them to meet? “Hi,” He mumbled, and Varian waved back shyly.

“Why don’t you two go play, hm?” Quirin’s eyes are warm, perhaps a bit overeager. “I’m sure you’ll get along.”

“I mean maybe,” Eugene muttered, but nonetheless pushed Varian forward gently. “Why not show Ben around the castle, hm? I need to talk to Quirin.”

Varian whimpered, squeezing his dad’s leg briefly. It was a small sign, a plea for him not to go. But he still let go, toddling over to Ben. The two shared eye contact, before he grabbed Ben’s hand and pulled him into the pristine halls he called home, away from the man who they both might have called dad.

“You wanna meet Ruddiger?” Varian asked, leading Ben down the hall towards his room. The kid was a few inches shorter than him, but his poofy hair was tall enough to compensate.

“What’s Ruddiger?” Ben said.

“My best friend!” Varian chimed, more chipper now that he was talking about something he enjoyed. “Well, outside of Hugo. But he’s different.” The younger opened his mouth to ask, but then shut it. Whatever, he didn’t really care all that much.

The castle was massive, nearly overwhelming in stature. How it dwarfed them, nearly swallowed them! Ben’s eyes kept wandering around, from the shadows cast by windows to the ironed carpet floor. How could anyone live like this? He loved his current home, its small farm feel. But Varian seemed right at home. Of course he would be, with his neat hair, and fancy outfit, stupid nice smile and friendly demeanor-

He’s cut out of his thoughts when a striped blur bounces into Varian’s arms. It wraps around Varian’s neck, purring, and suddenly all Ben’s concerns melt away. A raccoon! He loved raccoons!

“Can I pet him?” He whispers, starstruck. At Varian’s nod, he runs a hand through soft fur and squeals in delight.

He changed his mind, Varian rocks.

“So…” Varian says shyly, feet rocking back and forth. “Why did Quirin bring you here?”

“I dunno!” Ben chimed, giving Ruddiger a tummy rub. “New Dad said he wanted to show me off. Or something like that.” He shrugged. He didn’t actually pay attention to what New Dad said (he’d actually wanted Ben to make a friend). I mean, he was pretty great, in his opinion. So it was a logical assumption!

Varian frowned. “New dad…?”

“Yea! Cuz I had a dad before, but this one is new! And the best!”

“Really? Me too!”

“REALLY!?”

Varian nodded. “My dad is new, too! Quirin was my old dad.” Well, Eugene was his first dad, then Quirin, then Eugene again, but that wasn’t important.

Ben frowned. Quirin was Varian’s old dad? Did that mean he gave Varian up? Would he give Ben up, too? He didn’t want that! He liked New Dad! There had to be another explanation…

“Maybe he just didn’t like you.”

Varian gasped. “He liked me a lot! He took me from daddy because he liked me so much!”

“Oh yeah? Then why’d he give you up?”

“Why’d he adopt you? To replace me?”

Oh he did not just go there! Ben grit his teeth and glared up at the older kid, who was pouting down at him.

Ben stood up.

And lunged.

“To clarify, you didn’t adopt Ben to replace Varian?”

Quirin narrowed his eyes in anger. “I’m offended you would think that at all.”

Eugene raised his hands in defense. “I’m just making sure! I’ve seen it happen! Don’t want Ben to get left behind, you know?” It had only happened a few times, but it always stuck with the kids at the orphanage. Someone would come and scoop up a kid, trying to fill a hole in their heart, only to drop them back off when they were too much work or not enough like the kid they lost. It sucked. Why not just get a dog in that situation?

“Of course not. Varian opened my eyes to being a father, sure, but Ben is… special,” he smiled at the thought of him. “Such a silly boy.”

Eugene opened his mouth to respond when a shriek cut him off. It sounded like a young boy! Both fathers completely forgot what they were talking about and raced off in the direction it came from.

“That’s Varian!” Eugene cried, skidding to a stop in front of Varian’s room. He threw open the door, and both men gawked.

Ben had pinned Varian to the ground, hollering and hooting out war cries as he tugged on Varian’s hair. Varian screamed bloody murder and slammed his fists into Ben, grabbing at whatever skin he could find.

“Not again, Ben,” Quirin moaned.

You’d think that after that debacle, they wouldn’t put Ben and Varian together again.

You’d be wrong.

Because about a week later, Varian had tugged on his dad’s pants and asked, “Can we go see Benny?”

Eugene had raised an eyebrow. “You mean Ben and Quirin? I thought you hated him?”

“No!” Varian whined. “He’s fun. He makes me cry.” Eugene didn’t understand it at all, but he supposed if Varian wanted a relationship with his birth dad and his son, he couldn’t really deny him. So they’d started weekly playdates, alternating who travelled where.

The knight (or, well, former knight) was still getting used to his new routine. At dawn he’d get up to help the people of Old Corona, then start on his own farmwork. He started small, just tending to the crops Ulla had. Around midmorning Ben would join him, playing with the wooden sword he’d gifted the lad. It was around then, on a crisp spring morning with sweat lacing his brow and the earth warm at his feet, that he heard his son squeal in delight.

“Varian!” Ben cried, running over, lugging his sword behind him. “Look! New Dad got me a sword!” With a heave he brandished it, holding it high above his head. Unfortunately, he was top heavy, and both boy and sword fell to the ground. Varian laughed, standing over his new friend. Ben pouted up at him, tears budding in his eyes. He whined, and Quirin dropped his farm tools at the sound. His feet carried him over to where he feared Ben was about to burst into tears.

The whines abruptly stopped and Ben started to laugh, joining Varian. He reached up and pulled Varian down into the dirt alongside him, prompting more giggles.

Eugene stood nearby and shrugged.

“Is this normal?” Quirin asked, flabbergasted.

“Don’t ask me, man! I’m just as lost as you.”

“I… Maybe they’re just like this?”

“Yea that’s the working theory.” Eugene let out a breathless laugh. The boys had taken to wrestling, rolling around in the earth like a tumbleweed.

“Boys!” Quirin called, and they stopped to look up. He smiled fondly. It warmed his heart to see. Varian wasn’t his, he knew that. But that didn’t mean he didn’t care deeply. And to see both of the children getting along so well? It filled him with more joy than he’d had in years.

He motioned for them to wait a second, running inside before grabbing his prize. Good thing he’d thought to buy a second for himself. Varian’s face lit up when he reemerged with an identical wooden sword.

The knight leaned down, digging the sword point into the ground. “Can I trust you two not to hurt each other?” He asked. Varia nodded violently. “Alright,” He almost said son out of instinct, though he doubted that would go over well. He held the toy out as if he was a knight suiting up his king. In a funny way, he was.

Varian snatched it up, running over to where Ben waited. He let out a shrill scream before jumping at him with the sword, completely ignoring what Quirin had just said.

Ben shrieked, dodging just out of the way in time. He raised the sword high, this time leaning forward in order to fall towards Varian. Their wooden swords collided with a donk .

“Surrender!” Ben yelled, a feral grin on his face.

Varian’s face was just as unhinged with glee. “Never! I will avenge… uh…” He looked over to Eugene, who had walked over to join Quirin in the peanut gallery. “Dad! Can I avenge you?”

“Sure,” Eugene responded.

“I will avenge my daddy!” The little prince cheered. It wasn’t a graceful fight, considering how young they were. It was mostly just two wooden blocks smacking together over and over, with the occasional changing of positions. But the boys seemed to have a blast, and that was enough.

“So,” Eugene hummed. Maybe it was the castle staff rubbing off on him, maybe it was that “parent” drive for gossip. Honestly it could be either one. “How is Ben settling in?”

“See for yourself,” Quirin smiled, gesturing to where Ben was chasing Varian through the orchard. “He’s got a warrior’s spirit, that’s for sure. Lots of energy,” his face fell slightly. “He only uses it when he doesn’t think I’m looking, or when he’s outside. It’s like he’s afraid of messing up and upsetting me.”

“Yea, orphanages are pretty strict, he’s probably just getting a feel for the new rules,” Eugene stuck his hands in his pockets. “Varian was the same.”

“Really?”

“Yea, for a few weeks he was terrified of anyone that wasn’t me or Rapunzel.” His smile turned wistful. “Or you, actually.”

Quirin sighed, a bittersweet sound. “I’m just… glad he’s happy,” he managed. Neither of them had really talked yet, about Ulla, or the moonstone, or really… anything about their situation. Perhaps someday they’d be ready. But for now, this was enough.

Quirin wasn’t the only single parent in Corona. Hell, he wasn’t even the only foreigner who knew Ulla and then adopted.

Hugo and Ben probably wouldn’t have gotten along on their own. Hugo was a know-it-all, mischievous, and used his cuteness to his advantage. Ben was stubborn, a stickler for rules, and brutally honest. If they had been left alone, someone probably would’ve gotten hurt. Whether it be one of the boys, or a bystander, that was up for debate.

But they both adored Varian, and Varian adored them. So it was pretty easy for them to form an inseparable trio.

Both Quirin and Donella walked their boys to the castle, watching with amusement as Hugo tried to show Ben what he was reading for the week. It was cute how Hugo adored school, though he wondered how long that would last. Ben was in turn telling Hugo all about the frog he saw in the fields last night.

“It was huuuuge!” He insisted, racing a bit ahead. “Like the size of Ruddiger!”

“Nuh uh!” Hugo pouted. His little ponytail whipped around as he shook his head. “Frogs aren’t that big!”

“Are too!”

“Are not!”

“Are too!”

“How big do you think a raccoon is?” Donella butt in, amused.

Ben shrugged. “Big. Maybe like…” he holds his hands out so wide that he almost strains his shoulders. “This big?”

“But if he was that big, we couldn’t pick him up?” Hugo argued. That causes Ben to falter. For a moment his father feared a real argument, but instead Ben lights up and laughs.

“Hugo, you’re stupid! We can’t pick him up!”

“You mean you can’t, cuz you’re a baby.”

Ben shrieks in offense, but still retains a smile. The conversation quiets significantly after that.

“So,” Donella said, turning to Quirin. “It appears we have a lot in common.”

Quirin groaned. If it were up to him, no one would have ever learned about his past; about Varian’s parentage, the woman who tricked him, and her inevitable downfall. But the royal family wasn’t one for secrets (well, except for Frederick). They didn’t tell the entire story, that would be ridiculous, but rather simply said that Ulla had kidnapped Varian and Quirin assisted them in stopping her. The only ones who knew the full story were those directly involved… and those who knew Ulla firsthand. “Is this about our boys, or our ex?”

She smirked. “It was fairly easy to put two and two together. Ulla is… was… something else.” Donella scratched at her scar, an unfortunate habit she picked up. “When we parted ways, I thought my stay in Corona would just be temporary. I’d lay low in the one place she’d never go, and then head back to the Iron Kingdom. Clearly, that didn’t happen.” Her face fell to a frown, squinting at the too bright sun and unpolluted streets. Some shopkeeper waved at them, and Donella simply rolled her eyes. The blinding palace sparkled in the sun as they approached, and part of her lamented not bringing her work goggles, as they might have provided some protection. Over half a decade later and she still wasn’t used to this place.

“What changed?” the farmer asked.

Her eyes fell to their sons.

“Oh.”

“Varian!” Both boys cried in unison. Varian stood in the courtyard, bouncing up and down where he stood. With a fond smile, Eugene let go of his hand, and all three slammed into one another, mouths moving a mile an hour.

“Varian I saw a frog!”

“Well I brought a book! And Mr. Finn says I’m at a 3rd grade level! Whatever that means!”

“And I saw a frog!”

“Well I saw a duck!”

“REALLY?”

“It was a goose,” Eugene corrected. “Hi Don, hi Quirin,” he waved.

Varian giggled, dragging his best friends inside while they continued to talk. His cheeks were a bright red, Hugo was smiling so hard it had to hurt, and Ben eagerly ran circles around the older kids.

He and Donella left to run errands in the capital, leaving their boys in good hands. When he came back, groceries and supplies for his new home in hand, he was directed to a small living room.

The room looked like it had been torn apart, with toys and books and games strewn about. Some were still open, others not even out of their packaging. A fire dimly flickered in the fireplace, illuminating a quiet scene in the center of the wreckage. All three boys slept on the floor, oldest to youngest. Hugo and Varian were holding hands, with the older facing the younger as he snoozed. Varian was smiling in his sleep, his ebony hair reflecting the flames. To his left Ben was passed out, one arm on top of Varian’s stomach, and one of Varian’s legs atop Ben’s. A soft burgundy blanket covered them all.

“It’s cute, right?” Eugene whispered as he approached. “I half expected them to set the place on fire.” Quirin snorted.

“You’re just in time, the first meeting about childcare reform starts soon.” The prince consort continued, motioning for him to leave the boys be.

He beamed. He may no longer be Quirin, knight of the Dark Kingdom, protector of the moonstone. Now he was Quirin, farmer, father, advisor to the royal family and newly-formed Child Protective Services.

He liked this Quirin better.

“So,” he said. “Lead the way.”

#varian #tangled the series #tts #tangled #tts varian #eugene fitzherbert #tts eugene #team awesome #varian and the seven kingdoms

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astridthevalkyrie · 4 years

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My Companion: Chapter 3

"Maybe, somewhere along the way, Astrid had fallen in love with her husband, and now she had to pay the price." Or, they have an arranged marriage and Astrid isn't sure how dedicated Hiccup is to her. Oneshot. {Now a series of oneshots!}

Read it on FF.net or A03

Time to come back to Arranged Hiccstrid! I was watching the show for which this fic was named and naturally, felt inspired. Have a little looky into Hiccup and Astrid’s early days!

The Night of the Wedding

Astrid felt like a stranger in her own dress.

She wanted to take it off. Technically, she could. Hiccup Haddock was her husband, as was made official in the past few hours, and it would be appropriate to undress and change in front of him.

In fact, it’d be expected. The night of their wedding...a night to conceive the heir.

Odin curse all of the expectations! If she wanted to make a fuss about propriety and wanted to keep herself clothed in front of him, then she reserved her damn right to do just that.

The chief was not a cruel man, that much she knew. Still, his new and tolerant approach to dragons hardly meant that he’d give the same respect to a woman.

She grit her teeth furiously. The idea that a dragon could be respected more than her on this island filled her entire being with anger. It wasn’t fair.

Hiccup walked into the bedroom behind her, closing the door. Astrid’s heart drummed painfully, and she thought longingly of the boat that Rosie had prepared for her. She could have taken it. She should have taken it. But the thought of bringing such shame on the Hofferson name was one she couldn’t bear.

“This is your room,” Hiccup said quietly.

“My room?” Astrid turned and looked him in the eye for the first time since they had abruptly kissed at the ceremony. “Not...ours?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, a light blush on his cheeks. Astrid found it rather awkward. “No, I can’t imagine you want to sleep with me. As in, in the same bed! Thor, I’m not even - not even talking about…”

He trailed off, coughing into his fist and averting his eyes.

Astrid bit her lip, unsure of what to say. She hadn’t considered that he would give her a choice.

“But this is your room, isn’t it? Your father’s before you?”

“Yeah. It’s okay, though. The bed is new and fresh. I made it myself - not that it matters. The point is, you can take it.”

“Kicking my chief out of his own room would be...dishonorable.” She took a deep breath and sat down. “You may stay.”

Her permission sounded more like a demand, and she thought she saw the briefest flash of a smile on his face, but it was gone so soon that she must have imagined it. He sat down next to her hesitantly, clearly nervous about crossing the line.

Frankly, Astrid found his hesitancy made her feel safe.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Every few seconds Astrid wanted to say something, anything, to get rid of the torturous silence, but every time she opened her mouth to speak, the words died on her tongue. She knew an injustice had been done upon her when she was forced to marry a man she didn’t know. But it was the first time she considered it unfair for him as well. What made her certain that he had wanted to marry a woman he didn’t know?

Astrid looked at him, really looked at him, and felt unsure. He was an attractive man, to put it simply. With a sharp - sharp - jawline, striking emerald eyes, and auburn hair that fell into his eyes, she could gaze at him for hours if it was appropriate. It wasn’t unlikely that he had been courting someone before this.

“I’m not your chief, right?”

“What?” She snapped out of her daydreaming in an instant, looking away to pretend like she hadn’t been looking at him.

“I’m not your chief. You’re not a Berkian.”

Astrid frowned, not having expected to hear such harsh words so soon. And not from him. She had figured the people would not accept her right away, but would her husband resent her because of her blood too? That was hardly fair.

Hiccup’s eyes widened at her dejected look. “That’s not what I meant. I mean - I just thought...I thought you’d want to remain loyal to your own tribe. You don’t have to think of me as your chief just because I’m your husband. I don’t want to be - ” here he winced - “forceful.”

Astrid breathed a sigh of relief.

“You’re really not like most vikings, are you?”

Hiccup laughed, an open laugh that didn’t sound too horrible. “No, but I’ve learned to be okay with it.” He gazed at her hopefully. “Will you be? Okay with it, with me.”

“That’s…” She bit her lip, thinking carefully. “Don’t ask me tonight. Ask me...later.”

He gave her a long, hard look, but nodded. “That’s reasonable.”

With that, they both stood up, and Hiccup stepped out to change into his clothes, leaving her to do the same.

Astrid stared at the door. She didn’t feel...wooed. Or even understood. Nothing in her indicated that she could ever love the chief of Berk.

But marrying wouldn’t be the worst decision of her life.

------------------------------------------------

The Day After They Slept Together

“You know, I’ve been wondering for ages what that noodle has been hiding.”

“Ruffnut,” Astrid said sternly. “I hardly think that’s appropriate.”

“Which is precisely why we’re in your house, and not the Great Hall. So?”

Astrid sighed, exasperated. “I never should have told you we were planning to do it yesterday.”

“Yeah,” Ruff snorted, “You really shouldn’t have.”

She sighed, blowing on her bangs childishly and leaning against the wall. “He was...nice about it.”

Ruff whistled. “That bad, huh?”

“I didn’t say it was bad...”

“There is no good meaning to what you said.”

“I don’t know, Ruffnut!” Astrid slid down the wall dramatically until she was on her knees. “You’re the only person I can talk to about this, but even then I can’t find the words for it. It was good.” At Ruffnut’s dubious look, she doubled down. “It was really good. I don’t have anything to compare to, but it felt good. And that was more than I needed. The point is to conceive an heir.”

All of a sudden, Ruff’s eyes narrowed. It was an unusual look for her - in the few months Astrid had known her, the other woman had rarely ever been angry or upset. “He didn’t pester you about this, did he? He didn’t force you?”

“No! Gods, no.” She took her hand and tugged so she’d sit down. “I brought it up, and asked him if he wanted to, and so we did. It was fine. It was good.”

“No one who actually had a good experience says that, Astrid,” said Ruffnut, giving her a deadpan look.

“What do you want me to say? How magnificent and thrilling the experience was? Of course I can’t, there were no feelings behind it.”

Well, Astrid thought privately, that wasn’t entirely true. There had definitely been a slight bit of sadness. She had imagined that her first time would be, at the very least, with someone she loved. She hadn’t needed it to be amazing, as long as it had been special. But her and Hiccup...what they had done last night had been duty, not love. It struck her as tragic, as much as she tried to get the thought out of her head.

Still, there was no reason to tell Ruffnut that, so she put on a smile and changed the subject.

------------------------------------------------

The First Fight

Hiccup had always struck Astrid as...calm. He didn’t act on his first emotion (which was a stark difference from his childhood, as Snotlout and Fishlegs had told her). He tried to find the good side to every situation, and he rarely got upset. Anger never clouded his judgement.

She must have caught him on an off day, then.

Astrid knew there was something wrong when he came in and didn’t bother to spare her a glance before going up to their room to change. Usually, they would exchange meaningless niceties, while, while grating, had become a part of her routine. Still, she brushed the uneasy feeling off and told herself that he was probably just tired.

When Hiccup came back down, she chanced a glance at his eyes, and was stricken by the intensity in them.

He sat down on the chair opposite from her and without missing a beat, asked, “What did you tell my people today?”

The possessive way he spoke was the final warning, and Astrid got ready to defend herself.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Hoark said you told them we were going to war.”

Astrid frowned, leaning back. “I did not say that. I said it was likely, but I certainly did not give a declaration in that way.”

“You,” he spoke with barely contained venom, “are the chieftess. Everything you say is a declaration. I’ve had to tell everyone that you were exaggerating.”

“I - so what if they did take it as a declaration? It is the truth. I believe in telling the truth. We probably will be going to war with the Lava Louts, so people should be prepared -”

“That wasn’t your choice to make,” Hiccup snapped, and for the first time since she had met him, Astrid felt some passion from him towards her. Too bad it was negative.

Digging her nails into her skin under the table, Astrid answered in her most monotone voice. “I apologize. I did not realize that talking to your people would be against the rules.”

Hiccup had looked like he was going to fire back, but instead, he opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, oddly reminding her of a blubbering fish.

“Is that what you think I’m doing right now?” he finally muttered. “That I’m setting down the law? That I’m restricting you?”

Even before she spoke, she knew it was a dirty blow, but she couldn’t help it.

“Well, that is what people do with their prizes, isn’t it?”

She knew it wasn’t fair. She knew that Hiccup had never treated her like a prize, or anything less than her own person. But the conversation she had had with the people today had been the closest she had ever felt to them, with a similar sense of pride. She had felt like a Berkian. And Hiccup was once again telling her that she wasn’t.

Hiccup stood up so quickly that the chair fell back behind him. “Hel of a prize, Hofferson. I thought they were supposed to be rewarding.”

Astrid scoffed, standing up as well. “You don’t even deny it. You don’t like me talking to the people, you just want me sitting in here everyday, smiling and knitting a-and cooking you a nice dinner, isn’t that it?”

“That is exactly it!” Hiccup said, his words laced with cutting sarcasm. “Didn’t you read the prisoner’s pamphlet the night of our wedding? Or did you miss it under the guide on how to act like a victim?”

“Oh, right, because I should be happy! I should be thanking you, Chief.” She spat out his title like it was a curse. “For giving me the honor of marrying me and taking me away from my home!”

“You think I wanted this!?”

“No, Hiccup, clearly you didn’t!”

“Oh, for the love of - I don’t want you telling people unconfirmed things so that they don’t go around calling my wife a liar and a gossip!”

“I’d rather be a gossip than an enemy!” she cried.

“Dammit, Astrid, I’m looking out for your reputation!”

“Well I think you’re just looking out for yours!”

They both glared at each other. Astrid realized her fists were clenched, while Hiccup’s hair was unruly and there was a fresh cut on his neck.

She swallowed, not liking the feeling of her anger thawing out. She wanted to be angry. This was the most passionate she had felt in ages. Anger had always been her strong suit. Still, she couldn’t in good conscience ignore the cut either.

So in the most uncaring tone she could muster, Astrid said, “You should probably go get that checked by Gothi.“

“What are you - oh.” Hiccup put a hand over the cut as though she hadn’t already seen it. “I...I meant to go anyway.”

“Then go.”

Hiccup stared at her for a few seconds with an unreadable expression. “Yeah. I think I should.”

He brushed past her, their shoulders knocking into each other. Her heart felt...heavy, and when she heard the door shut, she desperately wanted to go open it and run after him, just to yell some more.

That couldn’t be what love felt like. No, this was just her anger issues. They had always been pretty bad.

Astrid sunk back into her chair, and buried her face in her hands, wondering why arguing with him had been more pleasant than any nicety they had ever exchanged.

------------------------------------------------

That Time They Got Drunk

Hiccup hiccupped, and the sight and irony of it sent Astrid over the edge. She giggled, her head falling on Ruffnut’s shoulder. Ruff shrugged her off, but only so she could stand up and pull Astrid to her feet to dance.

“Here’s to...er…” Snotlout looked around for help but when no one offered any, he shrugged and went on. “Here’s to Berk’s nine hundredth anniversary!”

“It’s Berk’s four hundredth anniversary, you knucklehead,” said Fishlegs, who definitely held his alcohol better than the rest of them.

“Come o-o-o-n, Astrid, you can dance better than that!”

“Here’s to the greatest chief Berk has ever seen!” Tuffnut shouted. Him and Snotlout hollered and congratulated Hiccup with affectionate punches. While usually more serious than this, Hiccup laughed, taking another swig of his mead.

The music that they were playing in the Great Hall seemed to grow louder. Astrid, who had grumbled about the dress she had to wear only a few hours before, now twirled magnificently in it, her steps becoming lighter and her rather mesmerizing dance getting the attention of several people across the room, including Hiccup, who was all of a sudden looking at her rather appreciatively.

“Here’s to...here’s to Gobber!” Snotlout shouted, looking around wildly. The man in question was fast asleep, slumped over Grump in the middle of the hall.

Astrid’s eyes locked with Hiccup’s, and her heart pounded. His gaze was intense, and something inside her thrummed with anticipation. There was something intoxicating about having the most powerful man in the room watching you with such a hungry gaze. And there was nothing anyone could say about it either, he was her husband.

“Here’s to Astrid’s dancing skills!” Snotlout cheered, sloshing a bit of mead over himself.

She finished grandly and got similar cheers of approval. Only Hiccup remained quiet, and their eyes stayed glued on each other, drinking up all the mead allowed them to see.

“That was amazing, Astrid.” Fishlegs smiled. “Very fluid.”

“Yeah, I bet Hiccup thinks so too,” Snotlout muttered not-so-quietly with a snicker.

The two of them broke out of their trance and shot similar dry looks to Snotlout, who shrugged. “What? I’m just saying, Hiccup thinks you’re beautiful, Astrid.” Then he laughed as though he had just said the funniest thing ever. “Isn’t that right, Hiccup?”

Everyone looked at the chief, who looked up at his wife.

“Of course I think she’s beautiful,” Hiccup said easily, and Astrid’s cheeks flushed.

Hiccup and Astrid left much later, still heavily drunk. Tuff and Ruff had kept them drinking, with their constant dares and challenges. Stumbling and giggling at nothing in particular, they finally reached their hut.

Hiccup placed his hand on the handle, but before he had a chance to open it, Astrid grabbed his arm and tugged him back.

He looked at her, completely bewildered. “What?”

Feeling ridiculously bold and giddy, Astrid leaned in as close as she could and whispered, “I did that dance for you.”

Immediately, Hiccup’s eyes darkened, and he trapped her against the walls of the hut, a hand on each side, just as she had planned. His gaze went from her eyes, slowly, teasingly down to her lips. Astrid saw his throat bob, but without another moment of hesitation, he leaned down and kissed her.

It wasn’t their first kiss. But, Astrid knew as she tugged him closer, this was what she had wanted to feel the first time she kissed her husband. He wasn’t suffocating, but he was there, overwhelming her senses. The quiet possessive growl he let out drove her crazy, but Astrid remembered to pull back for air. She let herself have a second before kissing him again. One of his hands snaked around her waist and pulled her even closer, before he pulled back only to pepper hot kisses down her neck.

Astrid let her head fall back against the wall, panting excitedly.

They went inside, only pulling away from each other to take off articles of clothing…

Astrid climbed into the bed, with Hiccup only a few steps behind her…

She gripped the sheets in excited frustration...

Her head hit the pillow….

And the two of them were asleep in minutes.

Turned out, they really were very bad at holding their mead.

------------------------------------------------

The First Time They Were In Sync

Spitelout’s voice grated on Astrid so much that she was ready to jump across the table and smack the man. Gods, he ran his mouth as though he actually had anything meaningful to say. And Sven! Odin help her, the man only saw fit to screech at the most unimportant of issues.

“I say we cut them off entirely!”

Hiccup sighed, and she saw his lips twitch in annoyance. “As I’ve said about six times” - not that anyone was counting - “that seems more like a punishment than a compromise.”

Astrid could predict what Spitelout was going to say next the second he opened his mouth.

“Vikings do not compromise! That isn’t our way!”

Astrid stared sadly at Stormfly, the Nadder she had bonded with recently. Flying, surprisingly, was an extremely fun pastime, it was no wonder Hiccup did it so often. She longed to get on Stormfly’s back and fly away from this council meeting. It wasn’t like anyone but her husband cared what she had to say anyway.

“Just because something has been done a certain way for ages, does not mean that it’s how it has to be done. Just take -”

“The dragons, Spitelout,” she drawled. “You do have one, do you not? Or is it a sheep you so joyously fly? If we stuck to what Vikings did, then we’d have that dragon’s head on a stick.”

“Exactly the point, if a little crude.” Hiccup snapped his fingers and pointed dorkily. “We’re friends with the dragons, and better off because of it.”

“The dragons,” Spitelout began nastily, “are the reason why other tribes mistrust us.”

“And they are also the reason that none of them would actually be mad enough to attack us. Which means there is no need to punish them for something they haven’t and won’t do.”

Hiccup looked like he was desperately trying to hide a smile. “I don’t think I have anything to add to that. Now, if you’ll excuse us, I believe I have to attend to the forge, and Astrid - have you done the perimeter check today? You should get on that.”

Astrid, who had certainly done the perimeter check that day, stood up eagerly. “Yes, I should definitely get to that. Very important business.”

Hiccup disguised his laugh with a cough.

“The council is adjourned.”

------------------------------------------------

When Hiccup Got Injured

“Get in, get in, get in! What happened!?”

“It’s not that big of a deal, honestly,” Hiccup said, waving a dismissing hand as though his armor and tunic weren’t torn and there wasn’t a cut on his torso. “Just a wild dragon acting...well, wild.”

“I’m not a medic, Hiccup. Why didn’t you go straight to Gothi?” She directed him to sit on one of the chairs before using one of the fire prevention stations that Hiccup kept around to fill a bucket with water.

“Because it’s a small cut?”

Astrid sat in front of him, hesitantly wetting a rag before pressing it to his torso. Hiccup hissed in pain and she winced. It hardly seemed like a “small cut.”

They sat in silence as Astrid dabbed the wound gently, hoping Hiccup wouldn’t realize how thoroughly inexperienced she was at this sort of thing. She bit her lip and continued awkwardly pressing the wound until their eyes met.

Hiccup smiled, genuinely. “Thank you, Astrid.”

She found herself smiling a little too. For some reason, the typical uncomfortable tension wasn’t in the air tonight, and Astrid felt a little...relaxed. There was a comforting aura in the room that she faintly realized had not been there before he came in. It was strange, almost as if him being there put her at ease. But that sounded ridiculous, they weren’t even friends.

Astrid stood up, brushing the distracting thoughts out of her head. She started to head for the stairs, until Hiccup quietly murmured, “Astrid?”

She turned around. “Yes?”

Hiccup looked like he was struggling to ask her something, but so quickly that she nearly missed it, he asked, “Is it later?”

Astrid could have pretended she didn’t know what he was talking about, but the second he said it, she knew. She knew he was referring to the night of their wedding, when she told him to ask her later whether or not she’d be okay with him. With all of it.

She had a fleeting fantasy, one where she said that she was more than okay with him. She was happy! She was in love with him! She would embrace him and they would go up to their room together, lay by each other, and bask in each other’s love.

“Not yet,” she responded truthfully.

Hiccup did not look disappointed. He did not look happy. But he looked like he understood, and nodded. They exchanged a meaningful look, before Hiccup stood up, yawning. “I actually have to go back to the forge, I have a few things to work on.”

Astrid hesitated only a second before blurting out, “Do you need help?”

His head snapped up to her gazing hopefully, fiddling with the wet rag still in her hands.

“I’d appreciate it.”

Astrid smiled again.

I hope you liked it! Remember, in these moments, they don’t love each other, they barely know each other. For the cute romance, I’d read the previous two chapters.

Until next time!

#httyd #hiccstrid #hiccup #astrid #valkyrie stories

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