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sugarakis-p2 · 2 years

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Gyutaro's melting chocolate

Gyutaro x chubby reader

You are so unlucky. A confectionary baker running into an old acquaintance who wants to collect on a ten year old debt. Only Gyu-chan is not the same as you remember him. He was never really nice but he has a more deadly air about him when he demands you show him where you live. He doesn't seem to like you and he's too dangerous to escape.

Warning: Heavy Non/con, possessive Gyutaro, mention of std, low self-esteem, insults, 69, blood, loss of virginity, demon turning, fingering licking with gentle death threats...mmmm just warm

You recognize the young man and curse your misfortune for bumping into him.

"Gyu-chan. It's been a while. We keep meeting like this. I'm sorry to bump you again," you sputtered, immediately bowing deeply. He looked stranger than usual. It had been over ten years ago, but you recognized him immediately. He looked taller, extremely muscular, dangerous, and thinner.

Much too thin. Gyu-chan always appeared deformed. When you heard his mom died of syphilis, you suspected he had congenital syphilis and avoided getting physically close to him at all costs. He looks worse somehow. You think it's because his hip bones sharply stick out. Your brows knit into concern, which deepened when you looked up.

"You are that big foreign girl. The rich one I used to collect food from," he graveled. Looming, staring at you with a horrid expression. The one where he decides on how violent he will be.

"Yes, that's me," you said, disappointed. He only remembered you as that. Your family wasn't that rich either. But you suppose compared to what Gyu-chan went through. You looked pretty rich. You had difficulty making friends because of being foreign and with money. Everyone either wanted to use you or insult you. When Gyu came over, you felt that you two were creating a repore for a genuine friendship. His words hurt. Joyous cackling brought you back to the present.

"Yeah, that girl that ran into me. Made me drop our meal. I forced you to make a new one for us every week to make up for it. You look so pathetic right now," he said, moving closer. The way he smiled at you made your flesh crawl. He can barely remember his human life. He is impressed with himself that he recognizes you.

"I was worried when I heard rumors about you and your sister. You stopped showing up. So, I am happy to see you are ok," you said, quickly backing from him. His smile dropped when he stared at you in confusion.

"Happy to see that I am ok?" he repeated quietly. You give him a nervous smile as you try to retreat from him.

"Then where are you going? Why are you backing away from me if you missed me so much?" He growled.

"Oh, because of the curfew. There have been many missing girls lately," you say.

"You don't have to worry. That is only pretty girls," he snarled. You froze. Your bottom lip trembling, eyes burning and blurring as tears well up. He is so fast. You had no idea when he got ahold of your wrist, "You're even more pathetic now. I like that. If you are afraid, I will escort you home."

You shake your head. Gyu has never been kind, but something about him is vastly different. The sudden thought of him knowing where you live has you in a panic. The second he sees you resist, his nails scrap his skin, his grip tightening.

"What is the matter? You don't trust me?" He questioned in a harsh accusing tone.

"You hurt my feelings," You said timidly. That made him beam like a ghoul.

"Oh, oh, oh no, my sweet little prey. So honest. So sad. So weak. I will take care of you. Tell me where you live," he trills. Almost in a singsong, he uses when he's in a good mood. You squeal in terror when he lifts you. He is not taking no for an answer. Cradling you in his strong arms, you tremble in fear. His fingers dig in ruthlessly groping, squeezing your thick thighs, moving from your ribs to the side of your breast. He is holding you like you weigh nothing.

"Please stop," you whined.

"Aw, am I picking on you too much? I will stop when you tell me where you live. Hurry up. I need to get back to my sister before dawn," he chuckles, kneading you harder like bread dough. You give him your address just to get him to stop. Feeling stupid hanging onto that thread of hope. As if you have ever known Gyu to have mercy.

He jumped to the rooftops. Jumped! Your heart is pounding like a frightened caged bird. Your hair is coming loose and whipping your face. Gyu-chan is a monster. No human could carry you like a doll. Shrieking in fear, clinging to him, and burying your face in his chest. He cackles.

"This place is nice. I'm envious. It seems like every insult in the world was tailored just for me. You must really like me. Calling me Gyu-chan and clinging to me even when you are home. What is this place? It smells disgustingly sweet." He asked, not loosening his hold on you.

Struggling, you shove against his chest to no avail. He feels like iron. He doesn't even feel your efforts as he wonders about your modest place, attempting to find the source of the sweet smell. He peaks at your kitchen, the biggest room, and frowns. He moves on to tersely dump you on the floor of your bedroom. You landed on your ass on the rolled sleeping mat. It softens the blow but still hurts.

Struggling to hold back your sobs. He sits cross-legged in front of you. Staring at you, rubbing your round ass to rid the pain. You stop and move it from his view when you see he is staring at your ass too intently.

"Thank you for bringing me home safely," you say, quickly bowing.

"Cheap, thank you. I'm gonna collect what's due," he graveled, scratching his chest. You smile and jump up. He winces, prepared to hurt you if you try to attack or run away. Swiftly running into your store room. Coming back with two interact boxes. You bow and push them towards him. In the moonlight, you can see he is too pale as well. His unique green hair looks unwashed. An inappropriate if innocent thought of washing him pops in your head. You squash it.

"I am a pretty famous confectionary and chocolatier. The other box is for your sister. I am so relieved to find out the rumors were not true. Is she well? How is your health lately, Gyu-chan? I remember you two being inseparable," you grin.

He opens the box and sniffs at the gold leaf chocolate hearts. He scoffs

"Like you care. No one ever cared. I want a better thank you," he snaps. Biting a chocolate and grabbing the front of your kimono, yanking you to him. Exposing one of your breast. You yelp and again struggle against him.

"I bet you would spread yourself if I was a pretty boy. Kiss me now," he growls, annoyed around the chocolate. What is he saying? His moods swing so violently it is hard to keep up or predict what he will do next.

"No, Gyu-chan. I am confused and afraid. You called me fat and ugly. This would also be my first kiss. Please, you are hurting me," you beg. He is ruthless, pressing his lips against yours. Stealing your first kiss. You scream in his mouth. You don't want this, and you don't want syphilis. He grabs your head, twisting his fingers in your hair.

The chocolate is melting between your sealed lips. Gyu-chan's tongue is forcing his way past your lips down the back of your throat. The strong muscle dominates yours. Your struggles become weaker as it becomes harder to breathe. You must focus on air while Gyutaro chokes you with his tongue and saliva.

Pulling away, he pants, his beautiful chest heaving, while you dizzily gasp for air. His greyish skin darkens instead of blushing like a normal person. His hands are hot. You can feel the heat radiating from him.

"Mmm, sweet," he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He snatches another piece of chocolate, licking it with his hot tongue. He trails the melted chocolate down your neck to stick to your nipple. Pulling your head aside to lap and suck at your neck.

"No, Gyu!" you whimper.

"No use in crying. Be good for your Gyu-chan. Your weak body can't hurt me. Might as well give in before you hurt my feelings. You should be fawning over me. I was a good man and brought you home safe," he rasped, running his tongue down. Using his right hand to bruisingly knead your breast.

Sucking your nipple in. Lapping at your tender flesh, feeling it pebble under his tongue. You hate how your panties are getting wet, how you trembled in fear and shuddered with pleasure each time his tongue pressed and pulled away.

"You are getting warmed up for me," he states. Inhaling deeply between your breasts. He moves to cup and presses them together when you jerk from him. You twist, trying to stumble to your feet. He steps on your kimono, causing you to fall hard on your knees.

Gripping your ankle, he drags you to the mattress. You cry and claw at the ground. Your chest burns as your skin streaks over the floor. He kicks it open mat. Hauling you up his body, hanging upside like a rag doll, your face near his crotch. As he hugs you in place with an arm wrapped around your waist, he examines your quivering sex.

"Nice try, but you can't run away. Suppose I had a nice face. Good skin, no stains, marks, or scars. With broad shoulders. Over six feet, you would be showing me proper gratitude. Instead of playing with me," he huffed, his voice quivering with rage.

There's a ripping sound above. Your head is swimming. It's hard to understand. You groan in pain as your panties flutter past your face. Gyu's hand is working at the front of his trousers. His cock springs free and smacks you in the face. You cry out and push against his thighs to get away from it.

"You filthy dirty girl. You say no, but you are so wet from some kissing. A little tongue play, and you are ready," he titters. You scream when you feel one of his fingers press into you with a filling, burning sting.

"Gyu! I'm a virgin! That hurts so bad," you wail. His massive cock twitches and leaks at that confession. You pant and take a good look at it. Shuddering in fear. It's not long, maybe six and a half inches, but it's long enough to look painful. It's so thick you wouldn't be able to have your fingers touch at the base where it is thinnest.

It thickens out more towards the mushroom helmet. Like the rest of him, it's corded with thick ropes of muscle and looks like an alien version of a human cock. It's speckled with similar marks on his face. It is drooling at throbbing at you the more you look at it. Gyu laughs as he continues to dip his finger in and out.

"A virgin. Oh yes, I see. You are so tight, and it's just one finger. You are really pathetic. An old virgin is rejecting me. It's ok. I will collect. You owe me some meals," he laughs. He says 'chomp' as he clamps his hot mouth over your clit. You scream again, mentally praying someone will come and save you. You are so isolated here. No one is coming to help.

The tip of his tongue plays with your bundle of nerves. Sucking and licking the little bud. You squirmed and whimpered, struggling to escape.

"Quit being difficult. I'm much stronger than you. Your weak body can't resist me," he reaches down, gripping your hair, he painfully yanks your face to his cock.

You cry harder when the head pressed against your sealed lips. Tears are streaming down, and your nose is running, making you uglier. I want to stop! Stop crying! Stop all of this! Your mind screams. His precum smearing on your sealed lips.

There is no cure for his disease. You refuse as he presses harder against your lips. His sharp teeth nip your bud. You scream through gritted teeth. He snarls like an angry beast as he pinches your nose.

Clawing at his hand, he doesn't relent. When you rip seams in his flesh, they almost instantly mend. This doesn't make sense! Your mind cannot understand! Pain! Your lungs burn and beg for air as his fingers painfully pinch your nose, as his cock bends against your lips, demanding entrance. No! No! No! Your hazy mind pleads.

You can't take it. You suck in air only to have a cock violate your mouth. He lets you breathe through your nose, but now there is a burning pain in your jaw and throat as he forces his cock in deeper.

"Bite me, and I bite you. Relax and breathe through your nose. I've seen my sister do this, so it's not impossible," he moans lightly, bucking his hips.

You remain slack jaw, but he still hurts as he makes you choke. Your jaw feels painful, as if dislocated at the joint. Your lips hurt, covering your teeth because you don't want him to bite you. Thrusting in and out of your mouth as he stretches and licks your pussy.

The tang of his cum is sharp. Sweet and salty. And diseased? You wonder and cry. It's too late now. There is a sharp sting as he purposely breaks your hymen to lap at your delectable blood mixed with your juices. Pressing two more fingers in. The worst part is how what he is doing feels good. Darting his tongue out as the pain in your pussy dulls to an ache.

Your mind is screaming for air. Being upside down with a huge cock blocking your airway is too much. In the race of pleasure and pain in your body, pain is winning by a long shot. You scream on his invasive cock, clawing and shoving away at his thighs.

He moans louder as the vibrations of your cries make him hump and eat you harder. His fingers dive deeper, curling just right to find that sweet spot. When he finds it and your pussy clenches down on his fingers, he rams himself as much as possible in the back of your throat. Jets of hot cum shoots down the back of your throat. Making you gag, your struggles becoming weaker.

"Oh, you frail, pitiful girl. There, there, that wasn't so bad. I think your ready now," he consoles with a husky voice. Laying you gently down with care before ripping your robes open. He lewdly presses your breasts together, rubbing his face between them.

"Gyu-chan," you moan. Gasping and weakly trying to cover yourself. He smiles, caging you in his arms.

"What is it, my poor helpless girl? Why are you trying to fight your Gyu-chan?" he asks, nuzzling your neck. His hot, heavy cock, hard as a steel rod, lays on your hip.

"You used to be so nice to me. But now you are cruel. Please, don't hurt me," you rasp.

"Tsk, tsk. I doubt I was ever kind to you. You only fed me to pay me back for what you did. I'm still collecting," he growls. Reaching between your legs to notch himself at your wet entrance. Fear lifting the fog, you wriggle from his grip.

"How annoying. All this fuss over your sad virginity," he gripes. Two red bone sickles appear in his hands. He brings them down on either side of your head. The handles pinning you in place, digging into your collar bone, forcing you to still, "Now look what you've done. You made your Gyu-chan cut your hair. It was so pretty too."

With a dower expression, he laments as he grabs a lock. Sniffing it before he twists it to place it in a pocket in his pants. It was a tender gesture that confused you more. He was kind to you in his own way. It reminds you of the last time you saw him.

You had run from the mean girls who had called you a foreign dog. They threw rocks at you when you ran into Gyu-chan, knocking the food from him. The look in his eyes was murderous. Quickly telling him, you can get make him better food. Healthier food for him and his sister, he took the opportunity to help his sister and exploit you.

When he came to pick up the food weekly, he didn't call you names or hurt you. Anytime you asked questions, especially about his sister, he gruffly answered with a smile.

"I am truly jealous of your wealth," he said to you one day.

"It's not all that great. You are the only one that talks to me. Do you think we can go for a walk one day by the lake, Gyu-chan?" You asked with hope. He wasn't pretty but he is strong, and no one would hurt you while you were with him. In turn, you would love him and be his best friend. You desire to be able to walk about without being abused.

"I like you calling me Gyu-chan," he had smiled and nodded. That was the last you ever saw of him.

He is rubbing his dick over your wetness, slicking himself and watching you twitch when his head hits your clit. He had forced your legs spread wide apart for him. You stretch up and caress his cheek. There is a slight red stain on the corner of his mouth, and you wince at the sight. He stops.

You carefully pull his face towards yours, kissing him sweetly. The flavor of blood invades your mouth. He had drunk your virginity, swallowing the blood from your broken hymen like a vampire. His intense gaze locks on your face. He is not the Gyu-chan you had known. He truly is a monster.

"I can't stop you, Gyu-chan. Please, be gentle with me," you plead, trembling. He removes the sickles to either side of your head. He notches his cock back at your entrance.

"Hold onto me," he orders. You do what you are told. It's a hot pain as his tip pushes into you. He slowly sinks into your warm tight cunt, "You are so tight."

With gritted teeth and an intimate grip on your shoulders, he forces more of himself in you. Your tight resistive walls are perfection, almost as good as human flesh. You can feel more of him slide in. you wonder when he will stop, maybe won't, and split you in two. Loud whines between panting. Fresh tears spring at your eyes while he stretches your pussy to his shape.

You beg for him to stop when he thrusts all the way in with a loud popping slurp. You jerk and scream, writhing in pain under him. His eyes widen in surprise when his pelvis locks flesh with yours.

Kissing your cervix, tears stream down your face, your nails digging into his shoulders. He has so many sharp edges. His hip bones dig into your soft skin. You feel torn in two.

"Shhhh, I know. It hurts. But I will end all your pain soon. You did well. You sucked all of me in you. Letting a virgin adjust and warm my cock first is only polite. I've watched enough to know how to please a woman," he reassures, petting your hair.

He nuzzles and kisses her neck, trying to calm himself before he thrusts. You are a weak little human, after all. He doesn't want to break you. Your vaginal walls keep squeezing him tighter and tighter. It's almost painful to him.

"I don't understand. You don't even like me. I don't think you remember me," You weep.

"I remember enough. I remember you are mine. I am Gyutaro. I will collect what is mine," he groans. Grinding his hips. A look of pain crosses your features. He touches your nude skin, tracing every curve, every stretch mark, and dimple, "Your skin almost glows. Your features are soft and kind. All of you is soft, warm, and feel good."

You blink a few times, relaxing your grip on his length. He sees this as a signal that now is the time to drag his length out and firmly slide himself back in your wet, waiting cunt. Burying balls deep. Arching into him, you gasp and clutch at him. His nimble fingers move between you to circle your clit. Listening to your moans as he lightly bucks his hips. Your nub is swelling under his touch.

Watching your lips part, turn red and plump. Your tits bounce and jiggle with each connection of your bodies. He suckles them as your legs wrap around him, calves pressed to the back of his thighs, encouraging him to pump into you a little harder and faster.

"My good pretty girl," he hisses with adulation. The sensations of his cock gliding along your velvety tight hot walls are indescribable to you and him. It's a ball of burning pain and desire throbbing from your center. Driving all sense out of your mind as you cling to him. He is slowly feeling good. Pleasure is starting to pull ahead of the pain. You shouldn't be craving him, lusting for this monster who is now a stranger to you.

"That look. That look is so pretty and just for me. You are mine. You belong to your Gyu-chan. You are delicious and sweet. Your stomach like a bag of wheat, your hair like silk, your eyes stunning, your thighs thick and strong, your pussy like a fist. I can melt into you," he praises.

"I missed you so much. I loved you," you let slip.

That shocked him. He starts bucking his hips in wild abandon into your beautiful crushing cunt. Panting like a wild dog as you brace yourself against his animal-like humping. Begging him to slow down. Your sex is overstimulated, and it feels so good you can barely breathe. Head till swimming in a fog of euphoria when he grips your shoulders with both hands and digs deep into you.

Moaning with each tender roll of his hips. The pain is being overpowered by the bliss he's causing. This time you embrace the searing pleasure and ache into him, screaming and pulsing around his dick. Your eyes are rolling in the back of your head while a lighting of pleasure strikes through your being. Writhing and moaning his name. He doesn't stop his ruthless pursuit in cumming in you.

His sharp pelvis bit into your flesh. You scream again. He was pounding into you hard and fast. Shuddering and growling as he freezes. His hard cock twitched and pulsed with his racing heart as he shot hot jets of cum into your spasming sex. Trembling under him, the intense expansion in your sore cunt as he arches and forces as much of himself in you.

Stretching you beyond your boundaries and making you cry. Tight quivering walls are milking him of every drop of his seed. You push against him and wriggle away from his massive cock, which only causes you both to grunt and wince. He's tied to you by the flesh of his stiff dick in you.

You are not going anywhere until he is done and softens. He feels one with you for this moment. So, dazed, you never felt his hands playing with your silky loose hair. You didn't notice when he cut himself and shoved his bloody fingers in your mouth. Hours later, you are even more confused. Human flesh is pushed into your mouth.

"Don't worry. I will take care of you. I was picking on you a little too much earlier, but you must understand. No one is prettier than Daki. But that is a good thing. She has become a picky eater. With your help, we can make her stronger. You don't have to worry about anything. I will protect you both." He is saying as he dips raw flesh of beautiful sushi in soy sauce and feeds it to Daki.

"She is a really good a preparing human. I want more! I promise I won't kill your ugly girlfriend if she keeps making this. Give me more," Daki whines.

"Now, now. My adorable little sister. No need to pick on her. I promised I would take care of both of you. She is cute in her way. Soft like goose down. I need soft. I can't keep meat on me. Don't think too hard with that silly brain of yours. Do what you are told," he lightly scolds.

"Gyu-chan? What happened?" You mumble as he places a piece on your tongue. You chew slowly.

"See. Cute. You are a demon now. I had to heal those bruises I caused. I have two pretty girls to take care of. It will be ok. I will keep you both fed. I will keep my girl nice and soft," he reassures.

"At least put her in a better kimono. I'm not going to be seen with my chef looking like that," Daki complained. She was a brat, but they both killed for you. It's hard to remember a time before them. Gyu-chan and Daki tell you that you belong to them. That Gyu-chan loves you and you love him. They always ensure you are in the prettiest and most expensive things. They always take care of you.

[writers notes: Couldn't help myself. I imagine if Hana survived with Shigaraki, this is what they would be like, and my sicko heart beats for it. Really going to take some days off, I swear. I love this evil bastard]

#gyutaro #demon slayer #gyutaro x y/n #gyutaro x you #gyutaro x reader #chubby darling #gyutaro x chubby reader #curvy

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haileygarciasunshine · 3 years

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Widow Maker

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Fem!Ex-Widow!Reader

Written: I’ve actually been working on this for a few days lololololol someone help me. Writers block is a BITCH so is life lol.

Posted: July 12th, 2021

Warning: Some swears, Violence

Word Count: 1,605

Author's Note: Contains Spoilers (Ish? Idk) For Black Widow. Also, I made some cool ass spacers. Feel free to use them I just ask you tag me if you do!

Movie and TV Show Masterlist

Before Civil War.

“You do realize you aren’t the only one with a tragic past, right?” You questioned, feeling heat bubbling up inside, while you felt a flush feeling dancing along your cheeks.

Out of your peripheral vision, you were able to see Loki roll his eyes.

“If you keep rolling your eyes, they‘re going to get stuck up there.” You spat, turning around and leaning against the counter.

A chorus of ’Ooo’s’ sounded through the kitchen, followed by snickers.

Glancing up, you locked eyes with Natasha who in turn, raised a questioning eyebrow at you. Rolling your eyes, you scoffed silently to yourself. Without her verbally questioning, you knew she was asking why the sudden need to confront the Asgardian God.

Shaking your head, you pushed the fluttering feeling down that had begun bubbling up.

It was no secret that Loki was on his redemption tour. In fact, word around the office had been that all the females along with some men, had began fawning over him. Naturally, the sudden lustful gazes and sultry conversations had gone to his head.

Loki was quick to develop a sudden arrogance after he had found out the new chatter around him. Being with the Avengers since the beginning along with being a friend of Thor, you knew all the up’s and down’s that surrounded him. Keeping your opinion to yourself, you had been on his side since you could remember. However, with everyone on his bandwagon, you felt jealous bubble up inside.

“Does your head ever get tired of all the hot air that comes out of your mouth?” Loki shot back, earning a sharp elbow from Thor.

Snapping your head in his direction, you glared at him. “You know what? Fuck you.”

Frowning you furrowed your eyebrows together, before turning on the balls of your feet and storming out of the kitchen. Feeling tears welling up in yours, you rapidly made your way to your room. Just in time for the tears to begin cascading down your cheeks. Whenever Loki attacked someone, he knew their weaknesses and made sure to do the most damage. After a while, you situated yourself on your bed and letting sleep overwhelm you.

Jolting awake, your heart rapidly beated out of your chest as the sound of knocking on your door, captured your attention.

Gasping, you turned to face your door before steadily getting to your feet. Opening your door, your jaw fell slack as you stared at the person before you. Opening and closing your mouth a few times, you decided it would be better to step aside and allow them in.

Loki stood awkwardly in the middle of your room. His hands firm by his side. Shutting the door, you leaned against it as you stared at Loki with disbelief. Neither of you wanted to be the first to break the silence.

Standing before you, he glanced around your room, seemly taking in your belongings. Clearing his throat, he turned around to face you.

”I… I uh…” His voice trailed off as he began his light blueberry eyes capturing Y/E/C ones. As you gazed at each other, you were able to see an underlying emotion, that you weren’t sure he was able to express until now.

Coming to your senses, you felt your walls hold steadily as you began fearing letting them down.

”If…If you’ve come here to apologize..” Your voice trailed off. Gazing down at your hands, you began picking at your cuticle bed. One of your many habits you had. “Save it.”

Dropping his gaze to his feet, his head hung low. The air began holding silent cries that neither would feel. Lost words that would never be spoken. All emotion evaporing into nothingness.

“I think you should go.” You mumbled at Loki. Not daring to glance at him, you rushed towards the bathroom before shutting the door without another word. Putting the toilet seat down, you perched yourself on it. Placing your elbows on your knees, you lowered your head into your hands. Tears began welling up in yours at your loss of emotions.

——

After Civil War. Cue Black Widow Era, also cue spoilers.

”Nat.” You hissed as you stood before Natasha.

Responding with hum she placed the phone she had just been talking into on the ledge. Glancing around she subtly slide it off the ledge and into the water.

”Natasha!” You demanded.

”What!” She grumbled.

“Why do you insist on taunting them?”

Scoffing, she rolled her eyes. “The same reason, you and reindeer games keep dancing around your feelings for one another.” She shrugged.

”We don’t have feelings for-“

Cutting you off she let out a humorless chuckle. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Letting your jaw hang open slightly, any argument you had thought of, instantly dying in your throat. Scrunching your eyebrows together you were at a loss for words.

”We…We don’t like each other.” Your attempted to argue.

”Right.” She spoke in disbelief. Turning to gaze at the mountains, you heard her mumbled something in Russian under her breath.

”What-“

”If that’s true,” Natasha turned her attention back towards you. “Then why is he here?”

Reflecting on her question, you were able to respond when you sensed a presence approaching you from behind. Turning on your heels, you faced the perpetrator.

”Hello, love.” Loki greeted, his eyes sparkling as he spoke. A grin making it’s way to his lips.

A fluttering feeling bubbled inside your stomach. Your palms rapidly growing damp. Without much thought, you propelled yourself into his arms. Your arms wrapping around his shoulders gently yanking him into you. It wasn’t long before you felt a rumble in his chest from his chuckling. Loki wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you closer than normal. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, catching the scent of your shampoo that he longed to smell again.

”It’s been too long.”

Moving to pull away, Loki tightened his arms preventing from the slight distance between you. “That it has.” You responded with a nod.

After the events of that night in your room, Loki had gone above and beyond to prove he was worthy of your forgiveness. After awhile his attempts at forgiveness, lead to a blossom in friendship.

”How is space?” You questioned after he reluctantly allowed you to pull away.

”Space…Space is good.” He spoke nodding his head.

Grinning at him, you couldn’t stop thinking that it was all a dream. One that was sweet, the kind that you don’t want to wake up from because it seems too good to be true, especially because it usually is.

“What are you doing here?” You regretted asking as soon as you spoke.

”I…” His voice trailed off as he seemed to reflect on the question.

Cutting him off, Natasha made her way beside you both. “We have to go.” She spoke, her voice holding back a slight panic that you could see bubbling up behind her strong demeanor.

Snapping your head in Loki’s direction you were about to saying your goodbye, when she cut you off.

”All of us.”

Nodding your head, you ahout to question her when she cut you off once again.

”No time. Come on!”

——

After finding Yelena, the four of you set off on a venture to search for their so called, mother and father. Both girls held twenty years worth of anger and bitterness, especially aimed at each other.

Yelena was the helicopter pilot for the mission, while Natasha was the muscle and brains. More often than not settling in the shot gun rider seat. Thus, leaving you and Loki alone in the back.

Sitting side by side, you were jostled together before you were thrown against his side.

Sending you a grin, he silently let you know he didn’t much mind the non existent proximity between you. Neither of you spoke much on the flight, however you often witnessed the cringeworthy interaction between Alexei and both girls.

——

After arriving at Melina’s little farm, you had begun to feel awkward. There was a sense of family as well as anger. Rightfully so, both girls had been subjected to torture and used as weapons forgoing most of their lives.

Standing idly in the kitchen, Natasha appeared beside you. Jumping at her sudden presence you placed a hand over your heart.

”Geez, Nat! Don’t do that!“ You cautioned. “You scared me!”

Natasha giggled at your reaction. After the moment quickly died down, she mirrored your stance of leaning against the counters.

Nudging your shoulder with hers, she had a smirk plastered upon the seams of her lips.

”Do you believe me now?”

Tilting your head, you gazed at her with question. “About?”

Rolling her eyes, she let out a groan. “About Loki sharing the feelings you have for him.”

Scoffing you shook your head. “I don’t really need a monologue on that.”

“Seems to me that you do.”

Standing together, you allowed a blanket of silence to overwhelm you.

”You should give him a chance.” She muttered quietly.

If it hadn’t been eerily quiet in the kitchen, you wouldn’t have heard her.

“I…What?” You gasped.

“Don’t make me say it.” She moaned.

“Say what?”

Letting out a defeated sigh, she shook her head. “I think he’s a good guy.”

”What do you-“

Before you had the chance to question her, Loki rushed into the kitchen. His eyes filled with bewilderment. He came off frazzled.

”Are you okay?” You questioned suddenly forgetting about the question you had partially spoke to Natasha.

”They’re here-“

Luminescent lights from outside suddenly shone inside. Turning to face the lights, you and Natasha held a startling gaze.

Something you hadn’t felt since reclaiming your freedom from the Widow program washed over you. Judging by Natasha‘s features that seemed to be mirroring yours, you knew she had the same feeling.

Fear.

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silentexplorer18 · 3 years

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Pen & Ink Soulmates: A Kakashi Hatake Fic

Summary: A partner, they said. Someone compatible with you, they said. Lies. Or the story in which you sneakily convince Kakashi that soulmates aren't all that bad.

Pairing: Kakashi Hatake x Female Reader

Warnings: Soulmate AU, Writing on skin, Minor Violence, Implied/Referenced Torture, Abduction, Minor Injuries, Serious Injuries, Hospitals, Angst with a Happy Ending.

Word Count: 12,100+

Note: For clarity, this fic occurs over a relatively large chunk of time, but it might make more sense to pretend Kakashi joins the ANBU in later teenage years (though we could pretend two high-level Jonin could talk with such maturity at age 13 if we wanted to!). Basically, I didn’t stress a timeline too much, but I hope you still enjoy it as much as I do! :)

Read on AO3 ▪ Masterlist

Hi, soulmate!

Soulmate?

Are you getting my messages?

Let me know if you want to talk.

Can you see the moon where you are?

I found the prettiest flowers today at the market. I wish I could draw you a picture of them.

Do you like flowers? I have a hard time picking a favorite.

You’d been trying. The whole connecting with your soulmate thing was supposed to be exciting and invigorating, but so far it had only left you with the bitter taste of defeat.

A partner, they said. Someone compatible with you, they said.

Lies.

Apparently whoever was supposed to be on the other end of your soul connection didn’t care about the messages you sent. They weren’t as eager to speak with you as you were to speak with them. At least, that’s what you told yourself. The alternative was much, much worse; a fate you weren’t willing to consider.

You had a soulmate. They just weren’t ready to talk yet.

So, you threw yourself into training. Every swift movement and taunt muscle, every hit target and victorious sparring session, all the work left you feeling strong and powerful. When your soulmate met you, maybe they’d regret taking so long when they saw how hard you’d been working, how skilled you’d become.

Thankfully, you had a sparring partner that liked to keep you on your toes. Kakashi had been training with you for about as long as you could remember; he was your closest friend and greatest ally as you worked to become a talented shinobi. Of all the people in the village, he facilitated and supported your growth more than anyone. You could rely on him for almost anything (except for being on time).

But there was one problem.

Kakashi didn’t like talking about soulmates. You couldn’t blame him. Deep emotional connections wasn’t a topic he wanted to dwell on, not after everything that had happened throughout his still-young lifetime. So you kept the conversation civil, even as your heart desperately yearned to talk to someone about your sudden fear of being alone, your deep, unrestrained terror that there was no partner to your soul, no body to receive the messages you delicately penned on the skin under your wrapped arms.

But apparently there was.

You learned that roughly a year later, after many failed attempts and more destroyed pens than you cared to admit.

The amount of times you’d tried to contact your soulmate had dwindled, both due to the lack of response and the influx in your shinobi duties. Regardless, you still took the time to try every once in a while.

Usually, your messages were sweet or silly. A few times, you’d merely asked if anyone was receiving your carefully written words, begging to know there was someone out there for you.

But every sensible person reaches their breaking point. And evidently both you and your soulmate broke in very different ways on the same day.

Good evening, soulmate. I didn’t do much today, but I can give you a run-down if you’d like.

It was a game you’d started a few months into your attempts at contact. Pretending someone was there was much, much easier than thinking about any alternative. So you tried your best to leave messages despite how much it hurt.

Staring at your wrist, you considered the scribble of the letters, the handwriting you only tried to make semi-nice now. That was your soulmate’s fault; you were past the point of a perfect first impression. But what to write today? What could entertain your soulmate, maybe even draw them out? You weren’t sure.

When the first inky letter swirled across your skin, your heart leapt into your throat, and your pen dropped from your hand. Your thoughts of what to write were quickly forgotten. There was someone. There was someone! There was someone waiting for you!

You leaned forward, hand clamped around your wrist to keep it steady as the words appeared on your skin.

You’re putting us both in danger. Stop writing to me.

Well, that certainly wasn’t what you expected.

After all the waiting, after all the time, that’s what your soulmate was willing to give you? Your jaw clenched, hand releasing your wrist so you wouldn’t inadvertently snap it. What a jerk.

How dare your soulmate assume you were incapable! How dare your soulmate treat you like nothing more than a hindrance! How dare your soulmate act like you were some worthless flower that would be trampled over by a single breeze!

You clicked your pen, hand pressing just a skosh too hard into your skin as you carved a message back to whoever that jerk was.

I can take care of myself.

The reply came a few minutes later.

Good. I don’t want you in my life. Leave me alone.

Oh.

Years of waiting for a soulmate, and the one to finally show up didn’t want anything to do with you? Great, just great.

You closed your eyes, hands shaking as you drew your knees closer to your body. Alone. You were alone. No matter who was destined to be by your side, nobody would be there. The tears burned in your eyes, but you tried to keep from shedding them. You were a shinobi. You were strong. You were… alone.

No, no you weren’t. You still had Kakashi and Kurenai. You had Asuma when he bothered to chat with you. You weren’t totally alone. You had people in your life to keep you company. Hell, you were even supposed to meet Kakashi for breakfast tomorrow!

You went over your list of friends in your head, desperately trying to drown out the nagging voice in the back of your mind whispering that the person who mattered most would never want you.

Kakashi was late to breakfast the next morning. Even later than usual. You idly wondered if he’d been called on an emergency mission while trying to keep your thin soup down.

The events of the night before rested at the forefront of your mind, making your stomach queasy with the memory of the harsh words.

Your soulmate had washed them off your arm by morning, but the message had already been branded in your mind. There would be no forgetting.

When Kakashi finally deigned to arrive, he looked much worse than usual. It was hardly perceptible to the untrained eye, but you knew something was wrong after so many years of friendship with Kakashi. He was even quieter than he usually was, picking at the cold soup you’d ordered for him.

It had been spur of the moment to order for the both of you, a decision brought on by being too wrapped up in your own thoughts. However, Kakashi didn’t comment on your unusual gesture.

For once, something went your way.

After your relatively brief and quiet meal, you offered to walk with Kakashi to the Hokage Tower, desperately craving the fresh air. He accepted your offer with a half-hearted nod, and you fell into step alongside him, trying to keep up with his impossibly lanky figure.

“You’ve been going to the Hokage Tower a lot lately. Is everything alright?”

Hummed, the sound still gravely from failing to use his voice all morning. “They’re pushing me up to the ANBU.”

You froze. The ANBU? One of the most elite and dangerous positions that a Leaf shinobi could accept? Your best friend—the talent, the protector, the lost child inside willing to throw his life away for the sake of his home, for the people who had left without him—an ANBU?

Kakashi stopped a few paces in front of you, casting a distasteful look over his shoulder at your expression.

“I can handle it. Stop fussing.”

With quick steps, you joined his side again, clenching your fist in embarrassment. “I’m not fussing. I just wasn’t expecting it so soon.”

“We die young as shinobi,” he murmured, continuing his walk toward the tower in the distance. Suddenly, the structure appeared to be looming rather than protecting, and a chill crawled along your spine.

Of course shinobi died young. All bodies gave out eventually, and shinobi would fight until that occurred, regardless of whether or not it was to their detriment (it almost always was). But Kakashi was the most talented shinobi you’d ever encountered. He wouldn’t die young, you hoped. He had so much left to live for, even if he couldn’t see it through the haze of his own pain and guilt.

The remaining walk to the Hokage tower was silent. And afterwards, you took flowers to the memorial stone. You prayed for the dead. And just this once, you begged them to look out for the living, too.

The day Kakashi joined the ANBU, you knew. The matching tattoo colored your bicep in sweeping increments, a sharp red rattling your heart within your chest. The reality of your situation washed over you like the worst kind of genjutsu.

Your best friend was your soulmate. And he didn’t want you.

The realization left you shell shocked for a few days, unable to even speak or look at Kakashi. Even without the contact, your mind couldn’t escape from him. However, you eventually managed to safeguard your heart as best as you could. You wouldn’t tell him yet; something within you couldn’t handle that risk of rejection, especially when it would come from Kakashi. But you weren’t willing to throw away the lifetime of friendship the two of you shared. So you put on a smile and met Kakashi at his favorite restaurant, just like usual.

“You haven’t been here for a few days,” he noted as you sat down, watching you intently. “Everything alright?”

You shrugged, fingers trailing down the side of your glass. “Yeah, just wasn’t feeling up to anything.”

It was a partial lie, one Kakashi could easily prod into if he wanted to. But he didn’t. He let you be. And you relished in the way the conversation eventually grew normal between the two of you, right up until he rose from the table, leaving you to pay the bill.

Everything was normal. But you cried again that night anyway.

Life fell back into the usual pattern after that. There were times that you could almost pretend the weight on your shoulders wasn’t there. Kakashi was away on more missions with the ANBU, so you were able to bury your head in your training and missions and pretend nothing was wrong. At least, you could pretend until a pen caught your eye.

The words on your skin had been so brutal, and you hoped they were just because of the pain Kakashi had endured. You hoped it came from a place of love rather than hatred; perhaps Kakashi’s intention was protection rather than cold-hearted rejection.

At least, that’s what you thought until you found Kakashi sparring with Gai.

You tried your hardest not to invade their privacy, not to listen to words that weren’t meant for your ears, like the good friend you were, but Kakashi’s voice was too sharp, too defensive, to not draw your attention.

“—but it’s a waste of time, Gai. Soulmates are unnecessary. Especially for people like us.”

“You’re hiding from your future, Kakashi. Wasting all your youthful days that you could be spending with the one who will love you as much as life itself!”

Another failed attack. The clang of clashing kunai.

“A soulmate could only be a liability to me. You know what kind of missions I’m being sent on.”

“They’re your soulmate, Kakashi. Soulmates are built to work together. They fill the cracks like the best kind of glue!”

Kakashi scoffed. There was another clang, the gentle zip of shuriken on the breeze.

“I’d never love them anyway, so it doesn’t really matter.”

“You’d say something so cruel—”

You turned away, unable to listen anymore. The pain pooled heavy in your gut. The message he’d written hadn’t been a reflexive, angry reaction. His beliefs were set in stone. He didn’t want you.

So, you held your chin up, resigned yourself to eternal loneliness, and pretended the whole soulmate dilemma didn’t exist.

If being Kakashi’s friend was the closest you could get, then you’d ignore the sting in your chest when you looked at him. You’d be his friend. Nothing more.

Your resolve lasted a few weeks.

There was whispering. There had always been whispering, but this day was much worse than usual. He’d been mocked, insulted, shamed. Openly. And aside from Gai, nobody had said a word otherwise. You couldn’t stand it, watching him mask the pain as much as he masked his own features. His feigned nonchalance couldn’t fool your perceptive eyes. You’d been watching too closely; you knew him too well.

Curled at your desk that night, you wrote a message on your wrist, scared of talking to him again but unable to leave him alone.

You’re a good person.

Hours passed before you received a response. It was curt, defensive, everything Kakashi carried to protect himself. You don’t know me.

But you did.

Although it was difficult to sleep, you tried your best not to toss and turn too much as you brooded over your feelings. Was it worth saying more? Was it worth risking the hurt, the rejection?

In the morning, you’d made your decision, especially after noticing his words had already been rinsed off your wrist.

Cleaning your own wrist, you wrote the message in your head a thousand times over, only hoping the words wouldn’t hurt you so much when they reached his skin.

You're a good person, Kakashi Hatake. I won't let you tell me otherwise.

Kakashi met you for lunch just like usual. You wouldn’t have found anything odd about the meeting, but he showed up on time. Apparently your message had rattled him enough to throw him completely off his rhythm.

Rather than comment on his early appearance, you just smiled as he sat down, choosing to dig into your meal. Kakashi followed suit, pulling out a book while he waited for his bowl.

Silence settled between you, and you let it. After all, you were trying to make the situation appear normal. The last thing you wanted was for him to figure out you were in on the secret that was bothering him. So, the two of you ate. You sipped your tea, glancing out at the people passing on the street until Kakashi finally broke the silence.

“My soulmate knows who I am,” he murmured, setting down his raman bowl.

You plastered on a smile, knowing you had to fake congratulations, had to fake knowing that he had, in fact, zero intentions of finding his soulmate.

“That’s so exciting, Kakashi! I’m glad you’ve finally found yours!”

He laughed dryly, scratching his neck. “It’s not quite like that.”

You tried to neutralize the way your expression dropped. Either Kakashi didn’t notice, nose stuck in his copy of Make Out Paradise, or he didn’t care. You bit your lip, brows furrowing before you could stop them. “How so?”

But you already knew the answer to that.

“I’m not talking to my soulmate,” he said curtly. “It’s not something that interests me.”

You shook your head, sighing softly. He’d never let anyone in, never let anyone close. Kakashi was too reserved for that, and you resigned yourself to the knowledge that he’d never care to change the fate he’d chosen for himself. For such a hopeless romantic, he had a terrible tendency to reject love.

“You’re so foolish, Kakashi,” you whispered, balancing the chopsticks on the rim of your bowl.

His eye snapped to your face. Though he appeared nonchalant, you could tell that he slightly bristled at your words. “You’re one to talk.”

“Mine won’t talk to me,” you pointed out sharply, eyes dropping to refold your napkin.

His expression softened minutely, but his tone stayed firm. “That isn’t what I meant. We’re shinobi, (Y/n). Love in our line of duty is fatal.”

Pursing your lips, you caught his eye again before dropping his stare. “Perhaps,” you murmured, knuckles straining in your lap. “But you can’t say it’s pleasant to live without love.”

He was silent for a moment as you both stared at anywhere but one another. Kakashi was ruminating under your words while you wallowed in the silent pain of listening to your soulmate openly deny your importance. It hurt, but you wouldn’t admit that, least of all not to his face.

Before he could speak again, Gai had clapped Kakashi on the shoulder, greeting him as warmly as ever.

You slipped out of the shop, enough money to cover both your meals pressed into the owner’s hand before either of the shinobi could realize you’d disappeared.

Although your conversation with Kakashi had stung deep within your chest, you appreciated the insights it gave you.

Kakashi Hatake was aware his soulmate knew his name. And he was terrified.

The fact that he’d brought it up at all was enough to tell you how jarring the event had been for him. That, and the way he responded at the mere notion of knowing his soulmate. He was like a cornered cat lashing his claws out in terror. He didn’t mean to hurt anyone, not his soulmate, not you. But in his desperation to protect himself, reinforce the walls he’d so meticulously crafted to fortify his aching heart, Kakashi Hatake was willing to scratch.

However, you weren’t willing to let it go that easily.

He was scared of having someone care for him. You were willing to start small in the hopes of changing that.

Along the curve of your inner wrist, you swirled the letters that would become the first of many.

Stay safe on your mission.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

Today is supposed to be cold. Wear an extra mask.

He didn’t. Worse yet, he chose to do the opposite. Although it was hard to tell, you knew his mask and undershirt were the spring/summer fabrics rather than the fall/winter ones.

The bastard was spiting you. Well, spiting his soulmate. So, unwittingly spiting you.

It was still irksome.

As the two of you wandered around the village, helped the farmers, and even took a leisurely stroll around the village perimeter “just in case,” you relished in the way Kakashi moved. It was obvious he was cold, regretting his unnecessary fashion stance.

But you couldn’t stand to see him cold.

He looked close to dropping to the ground for a rapid succession of push-ups just to rekindle some warmth. As smug as you were about watching him suffer, you weren't willing to let him perform a Gai for a small semblance of relief.

Swiftly, you unlooped your scarf, draping it around his neck unceremoniously. It wasn’t much, but the fabric was warm, and it would certainly help a little.

If only you knew how happy the gesture made him.

As the two of you walked back to the heart of the village, Kakashi walked a little closer to you than normal. And, for some reason, you didn’t really mind.

When Kakashi didn’t show up to lunch the following week, you weren’t surprised. You’d only just returned from a mission, and word of Kakashi’s travels had already graced your ears. He was heading to the Village Hidden in the Sand. For what, you weren’t sure. Some missions were still classified even for you.

Despite knowing how skilled Kakashi was, you still worried about him traveling alone through the desert.

The click of your pen hurt a little less when you clicked it now. It helped to know who your soulmate was. It helped to feel like he cared about you still, even when he so clearly loathed his soulmate.

Remember to drink some water today.

A few hours later, you were surprised to see a response scribbled across your inner wrist.

Yes.

Just one word but finally a positive one.

Rest when you can.

Kakashi stared at the words delicately placed on his wrist. His mission had taken longer than expected, and he was beginning to think his soulmate knew that.

Whoever they were, they must have been a shinobi like him. A high-ranking one, too, for them to determine the length of time he was supposed to be away for.

He’d been receiving one message per day. At first, it irritated him to no end. But now, he didn’t hate it quite so much, even if he often didn’t bother to reply. The messages were always harmless. Sometimes they were funny. Sometimes they were giving him advice, a little reminder meant—he assumed—to help him through the day.

While the sender certainly had the best intentions when sending the note, the message still left him irked. He was alone for this mission, and the sleeplessness and general strains of traveling had started to take a toll on him.

Only a day’s journey left until he could return home and try to shake the sand out of every nook and cranny of his backpack. Only a day’s journey left until he could sleep in a bed. Only a day’s journey left until he could go to dinner with the others. Just. One. More. Day.

He could make it. He had to.

Kakashi had been injured again.

The news swept through the village like a wildfire, and you showed up with two Make Out novels and a bowl of raman, nearly being knocked over by Gai’s comically large bouquet in the process.

Kakashi accepted Gai’s flowers with moderate amounts of grumbling and a few lackluster attempts to get him to leave. Eventually, he did, and it was just the two of you.

You filled the vase at his bedside with water, delicately stuffing as many of the stems as you possibly could inside the glass.

Kakashi watched you move around him, cherishing the silence. At his bedside, you unclasped your bag, pulling out the blindingly colorful books and the container of Ichiraku raman. After making sure the utensils were settled and there was a napkin, you turned back to Kakashi, just missing the warm expression on his face.

“You should rest,” you encouraged gently, “and eat up.”

His eye squinted playfully. “You fuss too much.”

You smiled, smoothing a shuriken printed blanket over the starchy hospital ones. It was yours, but it still smelled faintly of dogs and Kakashi and spice. Hopefully it would stave off some of his nightmares, having something that smelled vaguely like home.

“I fuss just enough. Now, don’t stay up too late reading. Some rest will go a long way.”

“You fuss too—” He yelped as you pinched his toe through the blanket, slinging your bag back over your shoulder.

“You’re lucky you have me as a friend.”

Kakashi’s expression softened, mind racing toward how close he’d come to death yet again. “Yeah, I am.”

He relished in the way that simple statement delighted you, watching the way your expression lit up.

“Get some rest,” you encouraged again, turning to leave him in the bright, quiet room.

As per your request, he did.

Although he listened to your advice, it was only marginally. In true Kakashi fashion, he’d talked his way out of the hospital after a measly two days of treatment.

His body needed more time, but Kakashi was always one to push himself.

Since the Hokage stalled sending him on another mission, something he both hated and appreciated, he occupied the following days in his normal rhythm. He trained privately, visited the memorial stone, and wandered the village nose-deep in supposedly trashy romance.

You’d caught him wandering around a few times, and even saw him lightly competing in a challenge against Gai.

The sight made your blood boil even though you knew it was Kakashi being Kakashi.

He had no sense of self-preservation, which wasn’t particularly helpful when you—his soulmate—were watching from the sidelines.

Did he even care that he could leave you all alone? No, probably not, your mind taunted. Kakashi didn’t care about soulmates; you knew that.

If only you could convince your heart not to care.

That afternoon, you let the letters curl across your wrist as you watched him do another training exercise with Gai, looking faintly more fatigued than normal.

Give yourself time to recover.

If he found your message, he didn’t care to respond.

Kakashi would visit the memorial stone in the morning; you knew how his routine worked.

He felt it fitting to visit them as often as he could, an apology for living the life they all should have lived.

You couldn’t blame him. You visited the stone often, too.

But you couldn’t today, not while you were traveling to the Village Hidden in the Sand with a scroll. So, you asked for a favor, scribbling on your wrist: Pray for mine, too, please.

He was starting to grow accustomed to your messages. A small part of you wondered if he kept an eye out for them. But that was silly. You were thinking about Kakashi. He probably was just reading his book when the words appeared, his wrist already in his line of sight.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

But it still didn’t dispel your excitement when the answer scribbled across your skin a few minutes later.

Sure.

He’d been taking on so many missions lately, wearing himself to the bone just to be a good shinobi. A part of you wondered if he was trying to avoid thinking about anything other than his shinobi world. That hunch didn’t stop you from worrying.

Soulmate or not, Kakashi’s actions would have worried you. He looked exhausted as he shuffled through his laundry. You’d brought him takeout from his favorite restaurant to hopefully get something other than rations in his stomach before he left on his next mission.

Who knew how long it would be before he drug himself in, requested another trip, and raced off to somewhere new. You would’ve thought he was avoiding you if it weren’t for the obvious delight in his eyes when you caught up with him outside Hokage Tower.

But there was a reason he was working himself to exhaustion. Possibly long-dead memories brought back to life that he couldn’t stand thinking about. You didn’t even want to know; you just wanted him to be okay.

A week later, you saw him walking through the village gates yet again. Back again. Planning to leave again. It was always the same, just relentlessly overkill at present. He was taking on too much, and one day he would slip up and regret it. You didn’t want that.

So you stayed behind the kiosk you’d been perusing, fingers untangling the wraps around your hand. It was a simple message, but you hoped it would help snap his mind out of whatever hole he’d buried it in.

Please don’t overwork yourself.

He didn’t respond. Not a word graced your hopeful skin.

But Kakashi caught you outside one of the stores in town and asked if you wanted to meet up for dinner that night. He would be around for a while, he said, but he was too tired to cook.

Despite trying to hold on to your resolve, a small part of you couldn’t help but hope he was staying because you asked him to. It was probably wishful thinking, but you were grateful for whatever force made him stay nonetheless.

I believe in you.

Kakashi scoffed at the message on his arm, printed in the spot where his glove met his sleeve.

He found it after a competition with Gai. Hardly anything worth fussing over, but his soulmate had still sent him encouraging words.

Had they been watching? Had they seen the fun (though he’d never admit it) that he and Gai had been having? Had they wanted to join in?

For a long time, he’d been able to avoid thinking about his soulmate altogether. Now, though, they’d found a way to weasel into his mind with the words swirling over his skin.

He wasn’t willing to consider whether or not he enjoyed it.

I worry when you’re reckless.

The message shouldn’t have stung Kakashi’s heart, but somehow it did. His soulmate was watching and worrying, hearing the stories about his travels. Whoever they were, they must have been a shinobi, too.

Were they okay with forsaking love in the name of war? Could they abandon emotions for the sake of duty? Maybe. His soulmate had never directly asked to be anything more than penpals, though even that notion was quite one-sided.

But the message on his wrist betrayed his soulmate’s strength. They worried about him. They listened for the stories and understood when something went wrong.

Kakashi couldn’t help but wonder if they were reckless, too.

If he never took the chance to know them, would he care if they threw their life away as often as he’d tried to? He wasn’t sure.

The next Make Out novel comes out today. I reserved you a copy at the Northern bookstore. It’s less crowded.

Kakashi didn’t understand why his soulmate was being so nice to him. Not after his harsh words at the beginning, not after his sparse replies and general lack of interest. But whoever they were, they were trying, and he had to admire that.

At first, he was surprised his soulmate was not only fine with him reading erotic novels in public but also encouraging it. But, then again, his soulmate was meant to be compatible with him, right?

There would be butting heads, of course. All soulmates lost the honeymoon stage eventually. But this seemed deeper, warmer. His favorite book in a quiet shop on his day off. It was kindness. And it felt both strange and wonderful.

He vaguely regretted not doing anything for his soulmate. Though, maybe they were okay with that. Maybe they enjoyed being alone, just like he did.

Maybe if he kept lying to himself, he’d continue to enjoy it.

But crouched in a tree a few hours later, he couldn’t shake the gratitude deep in his chest. The novel was amazing. And he wouldn’t have been able to get his hands on it if it weren’t for his soulmate’s generosity.

Two words.

Thank you.

Kakashi had arrived home from another long mission. Although unscathed, his clothes were a mess. Dirt and mud clung to his legs, dried blood was smattered across his upper body, and a few rogue twigs and leaves stuck to him in strange places. He needed a shower. Desperately.

But something within Kakashi was restless, and he chose to wander around the village absently.

Something must have happened for him to look so dazed and unattached, but you tried to avoid asking anything direct in public.

Instead, you hopped beside him, catching his arm with the tips of your fingertips. He hummed in response.

“You just got back, right, Kakashi?”

He hummed again. “Yep.”

“Have you bought groceries?”

“No... Why?”

“A bunch of us are going to dinner tonight. You should come. It’s been a while since we’ve all been together.”

He inspected you for a long moment, and you could tell what he was thinking. The laugh bubbled in your throat before you could help yourself. “It’s Iruka’s turn to take Gai home, don’t worry.”

He stared for a moment longer before nodding slowly. “Okay.” Another small, dazed nod. “I’ll come.”

You couldn’t hide your smile as you told him the establishment and the time. That alone made Kakashi’s mood improve, though he’d never admit that aloud.

An hour later, though, he was still wandering around the city absentmindedly. So you figured his soulmate could take matters into their own hands.

Blood in your hair? Isn’t that a bit macabre?

He replied an hour later.

No.

But the next time you saw him, he was dressed in a new uniform. Not a single pristinely white hair was out of place.

If it hadn’t been for Anko talking your ear off about her last mission, you almost could’ve imagined that you and Kakashi were on a date.

It was the closest you would get, a clean vest and all.

But when Asuma blew a puff of smoke and Kakashi glared disdainfully from across the table, any hopes of romance slipped through your fingers.

You were friends. Close friends.

And you refocused on Anko’s story in the hopes of forgetting the state of your friendship with Kakashi for the span of a few minutes.

Every little glance he sent your way certainly didn’t help.

Nor did the way he offered you the last bite of his cake as a thanks for paying for his meal yet again.

Damn, you were in deep.

Be safe on your mission.

His reply came a few minutes later.

Yep.

Although it wasn’t much, the gesture made you smile. It seemed almost like he was waiting for your message, like he’d been checking as he and his companions wandered down the road.

You told yourself it was wishful thinking, but the word scribbled on your wrist in his handwriting warmed your heart all the same.

You’d forgotten. The mission had been too complex, your mind too preoccupied. You’d forgotten to write to Kakashi.

A part of you distantly wondered if he cared, if he even thought about your messages.

He’d started to reply on occasion. It was never more than a quickly scrawled, single word response, but it was still better than the total isolation he’d given you before.

You couldn’t say it was great, or that the two of you talked as soulmates. But it was relatively amicable. And that was a much better foot to get off on than the first time he’d responded to the words you’d scribbled words across your arms.

Things were okay.

And although you had a few scrapes and scratches from your mission, that had gone okay, too.

When your team settled in a clearing for the night, tent built and fire glowing, you drifted off, too exhausted to think of sending a scrabbled love message to Kakashi.

But he hadn’t forgotten about you.

Although you assumed he wasn’t paying attention, Kakashi was one of the best ninja in the Village Hidden in the Leaves. He paid attention to everything, despite his usual nonchalance.

He noticed immediately that his soulmate hadn’t written to him.

After weeks of at least one little message per day.

And he wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was terrified. Had something happened to you? Were you injured? Could it be worse?

The idea of soulmates may have left him feeling disgruntled, but your messages had burrowed a home in his heart.

He wasn’t ready to give you or your messages up yet.

So for the first time in a long time, he wrote a real message.

You’re late. Doing okay?

As you watched over the dying flames several hours later, an early morning guard for your teammates, you stared at his words, tracing a finger over the scraggly characters.

Late.

You knew he wasn’t talking about your mission because the four of you weren’t due back for another two days. He didn’t know your identity. That only left the messages…

Was he treating this as a check-in?

You rolled your eyes, chuckling. Leave it to Kakashi to care more than he let on.

Got lost on the path of life. You?

Kakashi stared at your message. He’d been perusing his favorite bookstore for spare copies of the Make Out series’ novels, sleeve suspiciously cuffed and waiting for a reply, when the words had swirled across his skin.

And he laughed. Warmly and purely. Because you’d stolen his line.

You knew him. And maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing if you would continue to make him laugh so openly.

Surprised with himself, he clicked his pen, words scribbling across his skin before he had the chance to doubt himself.

Glad you’re alive.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start. An admission that he wasn’t as dismayed by the soulmate thing as he let on. And you arrived home from your mission absolutely beaming.

You were able to catch Kakashi for lunch before heading off on your next mission with Kurenai. The food was filling, and the conversation was nice. Funnily enough, he was supposed to leave for a mission with Gai the next day. No rest for the shinobi apparently.

Kakashi waved at you as you walked away, and you smiled to yourself. Even if you didn’t have your soulmate by your side, at least you still had some connection to Kakashi. Being by his side was worth the dull ache it left in your heart.

But you would be without it for the next few days. Although you and Kurenai were leaving for no more than two days, Kakashi and Gai would probably be gone most of the week. Part of you hated when Kakashi was away, but part of you enjoyed getting to write to him more often. When he was away, you could be a little less secretive as you scribbled down messages throughout your day in the village.

But, for the time being, you’d focus on the mission at hand.

It was a standard case of bandits in the woods. At least, that was what the scroll had described the mission as. However, as you and Kurenai crept through the dense forest, something felt off.

No matter how far the two of you traveled, the quiet whisper of wind in the leaves greeted you. Despite your speed and silence, you couldn’t sense any animals or hear anything suspicious. Bandits would have left campsites or trash or, hell, even footsteps. But nothing greeted your senses, not even traces of animals. These weren’t ordinary bandits.

Your suspicions were confirmed when eight people jumped from the brush, attacking with a swiftness you hadn’t anticipated. Their presences had been completely concealed.

Kurenai lept to your left, and you lept to the right, sending three shuriken through the air to hit the nearest attacker. While your attack worked slightly, you immediately had to jump again, barely catching Kurenai rushing off through the trees.

This was the failsafe plan; if you got caught, you’d separate far enough that you couldn’t catch one another in the crossfire of your attacks.

But you were outmatched. Whoever these “bandits” were, they were extremely skilled in capturing and securing enemies. One moment, you were wielding a fire jutsu. The next moment, your vision had gone dark.

Capture wasn’t the only thing the bandits appeared to be skilled in. Upon waking, you’d been tied to a chair with restraints stronger than you could break. The room was dark, probably somewhere underground, and you realized you had no idea how long you’d been unconscious. Was Kurenai okay? Had she been captured, too? What did these people want with you?

None of that mattered, not when the first blow had landed across your exposed side. Whatever these people wanted, you wouldn’t give it. So, you took a deep breath, clenched your teeth, and shut out the world. Your village was valuable to you. The people there mattered to you. And you’d follow your training to the letter, or you’d die trying.

Whether it had been hours or days of torture, you weren’t sure. All you knew was that everything hurt, and your vision was starting to go blurry. Despite that, you hadn’t relented. No matter what they threw at your body, no matter what manipulation they tried to play with your mind, you wouldn’t budge.

At the end, at least you’d make the Village Hidden in the Leaves proud.

But there was something that was missing, something you wanted to do before you died, even if it was just selfish, even if it was just a foolish whispering of your heart. You wanted to be buried somewhere your friends could visit. You wanted everyone to know about your end, to know what had happened, to never worry that you were out there somewhere.

You wanted Kakashi to find peace in your death, not guilt.

So there was a secret you had to spill.

You slid the pen from your pocket, clicking it open as you stared at your arm. Slowly, you undid the bandages, greeted once again by blank skin. Swirling the pen across your forearm, you wrote the rough coordinates of your capture on your arm. It wasn’t exact, but hopefully it would be good enough. Then, you wrote the words “urgent note” on your fingertips and wrist, hoping that would encourage him to look. Below the coordinates, you wrote: Abducted by enemies. Not relenting to torture. Getting weak. Send help if possible. Or someone to collect my body. Look at leg later. —(Y/n).

Carefully, you rewrapped your arm, moving to roll your pant leg up. Your hands were shaking, and it was hard to hold the pen, but you had to write to him.

They said the end is coming, and I'm starting to believe them. It hurts a lot. So I'm writing to you. I know you didn't want to deal with the whole soulmate thing, but I couldn't stay away. You were just too wonderful to not stand beside. I'm sorry I didn't leave you be, didn't respect your wishes. But I wanted to be a part of your life. I'm being selfish by writing to you now, but you're the one person I've always been selfish with, so I'm not going to stop at the very end. Please don’t be upset with yourself if I don’t make it.

Your eyes were watering now, vision slightly blurry. Had they drugged you, too? Or was it just the injuries?

I just want you to remember that you’re loved. That I love you. That you deserve to be loved. Please don’t forget that when I’m gone.

Whatever else you wanted to write would not be written. Quietly, the pen clattered out of your hand, and your head slumped forward.

Time was up.

Your vision was blurry when your eyes finally blinked open. You were cold, but the ache in your muscles was a reassurance that you were very much alive. Alive and in a hospital, it seemed.

There was a crinkle beside your bed, and you looked up to see Kakashi thumbing through his book.

What had… You blinked, trying to recall exactly what had happened.

There was a mission… you’d been on a mission with Kurenai… right. Then… and then... you were abducted. Yes, you could remember that now. And Kakashi… you remember thinking about Kakashi. Gosh, everything was so damn hazy. You shifted, wincing as you tried to sit up.

“Hey!” His voice was cheerful, and you blinked up at him in surprise at the warmness in his tone. “Good to see you waking up!”

How had he known you were at the hospital? Had Kurenai… Wait, no. No. Hazily, you could recall writing coordinates on your wrist. They weren’t precise, so someone must have looked for you. You couldn’t remember being found. Everything after the last interrogation was too hazy… too confusing. But Kakashi had known… maybe Kakashi had looked for you.

“You made it in time?”

He hummed, closing his book with a thump. “Pakkun found you. Once I knew what to look for, I could rely on his nose.”

You nodded groggily, reaching up to rub your eyes. The ink was still on your wrist, visible due to your unwrapped arms. You’d forgotten about—

“Kakashi, I’m so sorry about the message.” You turned to look at him, eyes wide and embarrassed. “If I knew everything would’ve been fine, then I wouldn’t have—”

His hand rose, and you stopped, heart hammering in your throat. This was it. This would be the rejection.

“I’m glad I had the opportunity to save you.”

Of course. Because he wouldn’t leave a comrade behind; that wasn’t like him.

But that wasn’t the message you were referring to.

If he wasn’t going to bring up the love message, then you wouldn’t, either. “I’m grateful,” you murmured, looking down to finally see the treatment your body had undergone. There were marks everywhere, which meant Kakashi was marked everywhere, too. Marks on the soulmate that didn’t want you…

“I appreciate you waiting,” you forced yourself to say. Maybe he’d get the message and leave you alone.

Instead, he met your awkward sidestep with bluntness. “I figured we should talk.”

Your head felt like it was spinning, and you had the slightest sensation that you were going to be in the hospital for quite a while. It would be embarrassing to be rejected here; it would be embarrassing to cry in front of the nurses.

“Not now,” you croaked, hand scrabbling to grab the invisible cup of water at the bedside. Water, sake, medicine, heck, even the flower water beside you. Anything to push the lump out of your throat. Anything to avoid thinking about Kakashi’s rejection.

You were eyeing up the vase next to you as Kakashi stood, long legs moving to fill a glass by the sink. He handed it to you, assuring your fingers were pressed around the cup before he moved away.

You sent him a grateful half-smile before you swallowed the water like a shot, desperate to drown yourself in something other than your own awkwardness.

“Feel better?”

No, you really didn’t. Your head was still spinning, stomach still queasy. Whether it was from your injuries or Kakashi’s pointed stare, you weren’t sure. “I don’t want to talk about it today. Everything—” you coughed, trying to release the tightness in your throat. “Everything hurts.”

He nodded, humming low in his throat. “I’ll go get a nurse, then.”

You nodded shakily, debating whether or not you could escape from the hospital before he came back. The ache in your side told you moving probably wasn’t the best idea.

“But before I do, I have one question.”

Your head snapped to where he stood by the door, wincing as you did so. “Yes?”

“How did you find out it was me?”

You stared at him for a minute, searching his impassive face. He was one of the best shinobi this village had ever seen, and he was still impossibly clueless sometimes. Slowly, you rolled up your sleeve, revealing a roll of gauze. It was blue, unlike the starchy white medical gauze on your sides. You could fiddle with it; the fabric belonged to you. With nimble fingers, you untied it, letting it pool below your elbow on the bed.

Kakashi stared openly at the ANBU tattoo, and you watched the pieces click into place. He hadn’t even considered what a tattoo would be like for his soulmate.

“I see,” he whispered, fingers unconsciously twitching toward his covered arm. After a moment, he shook himself from his thoughts, gaze again becoming impassive. “I’ll go get the nurses.”

“Kakashi?” you called, shocked as the words left your lips. You hadn’t meant to call out for him, not yet, anyway. But he was standing there staring like you’d held up a practice dummy, focus radiating from him in waves. You had to say something. “Thank you. For saving me… and waiting. And thank Pakkun, too?”

Kakashi’s expression softened. “I will. Now, get some rest. You look exhausted.”

Though, rest was the last thing you would come close to receiving as the doctors gave you a full evaluation. Poking, prodding, and asking questions took up most of the afternoon. Although you tried your best to focus and take in all the information you were given about your physical state, your mind continually strayed to Kakashi. Did he hate you now? Did he want you out of his life? Was he waiting for you or just waiting to ask about the whole soulmates thing? You wished you could quiet the questions swirling through your mind.

That evening, you found a message scribbled across the back of your hand. Although his handwriting was still messy, it was obvious he took his time. He wanted it to be legible.

Get well soon, (Y/n).

It was the first time your soulmate had written your name on his skin. He knew you now. There was no going back to the secretive messages and hidden assurances. Everything was out in the open; Kakashi knew exactly who you were. He knew everything.

That night, you wept.

You wept for the injuries that would bar you from upcoming missions. You wept for the bitter sense of death that had grazed your fingertips. You wept for the compassionate message on your hand. You wept for the fear of being alone again.

You wept for Kakashi and all that he meant to you.

Between the crying and the medical evaluations the day prior, you slept well past the time you’d typically rise. Consequently, it was well past the opening of visiting hours, too.

Kakashi arrived before you woke up and tucked himself into a corner with a book. However, he read very little. Instead, he watched the gradual rise and fall of your chest, comforted by the knowledge that you were still breathing.

When “urgent note” had appeared on his fingers, his heart had nearly stopped in his chest. When he read the message printed on his wrist, the sinking sensation had only grown. Fear consumed him more than it had ever consumed him before.

His head had spun with the realization that you were in danger, that you were his soulmate. Summoning his ninkin had happened in a blur. If he was being honest with himself, everything was a blur up until the moment he found you. That moment would live on in crystal clarity in his memory forever.

There are some moments in life too horrific to forget. Finding you unconscious on the floor of a dingy bunker, pen by your side, chest barely moving, would be one of those moments for Kakashi.

The only thing more reassuring than watching you breathe was watching your eyes blink open slowly and focus in on him. He could tell you were nervous about talking to him, and he knew why. The message still hastily scribbled on both of your thighs was more than an acknowledgement of the soulmate bond. It was an admission that you loved him, an admission that you believed in him, that you wanted to stay by his side.

It was also an admission that you believed he didn’t want to stay by your side.

He really needed to talk to you.

“Good morning,” he hummed, tucking his book back in his vest. Smiling, he moved to sit on the chair beside you, feeling it was appropriate now that you were awake. This close, he could smell the antiseptic on your skin, the overbearing flowery scent of the hospital lotion, and the faintest whiff of your shampoo still clinging to your hair despite the days it had been since your last shower.

“G’morning,” you mumbled, stretching lazily. Kakashi watched your movements, chuckling at the way you arched like a happy rabbit after a nap. It was cute and endearing, a movement Kakashi had gotten used to witnessing over the years.

Shifting the other direction, you winced, body instinctively jerking back into a ball. “Ow,” you grumbled, hand moving to put a little pressure on your side. With some effort, you managed to shift into a sitting position, still moving gingerly to somewhat satiate your aching limbs. “I thought I’d feel better today, but I guess not.”

Kakashi snorted dryly. “That’s a bit ambitious, don’t you think?”

You stopped rubbing your shoulder to stare at him. “What do you mean?”

What did he mean? Hadn’t the doctors told you? Surely they would have mentioned… Were you playing dumb or did you really not know? Kakashi stared at you for a moment, scrutinizing your confused expression, before his eyes dropped. He let out a breath, then another, trying to hide the pain blossoming in his chest.

He’d almost lost you.

“You were dying,” he said lowly, gaze fixated on his gloves. “By the time we got you back, we really thought you weren’t…” he shook his head, expression dark. “The medics thought you were already gone.”

It took a moment for you to respond. The doctors said your recovery was astronomical, that you’d been close to death, but the way Kakashi described it, so somber and broken, made the reality of the situation hit home.

You’d almost died. You’d almost lost everything you held dear.

You’d almost lost him.

Glancing back to Kakashi, you found him still lost deep within his thoughts. His expression was dark, fist clenched over his thigh, over what was intended to be your last message to him.

Carefully, you reached out and bushed a hand over his clenched fist. The action drew his attention back to you. “It wasn’t your fault,” you gently offered, stroking the back of his hand once more before pulling away. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that, but it’s okay. It wasn’t your fault.”

He huffed, scooting backward in his chair. “I should have got to you sooner! Protected you! If I’d asked, you could have sent me updates. I could have prevented you from getting hurt—”

“Will you stop with the narcissism!” you chided, wincing as you swung your feet over the edge of the bed.

He met your gaze, lone eye blinking once in surprise.

“I took the mission. I accepted the consequences of it. I knew what an infiltration would be like. I knew the chances of getting ambushed. You didn’t endanger me, Kakashi. You weren’t even supposed to be on that mission.” Your voice faded, soft and overwhelmed. “But you saved me anyway.” You ran your thumb under your eyes, catching the tears before they had a chance to fall. “So claim that. Stop… I need you to stop only claiming your failures.”

He clenched his fist, unclenched it, and nodded once. For the first time in a long time, you couldn’t read Kakashi’s body language at all. What was he feeling?

Part of you wanted to reach out and comfort him, but you didn’t. He’d made space between you for a reason. And as upsetting as it was, you were willing to honor that.

After a few minutes of silence, you plucked one of the flowers from the vase beside your bed. “Did Kurenai bring me the flowers?” You smiled, brushing a finger against the petals. “She accidentally picked my favorites.”

When you looked back up, Kakashi was staring at you again, cheek barely pinking over the edge of his mask.

He could read erotic novels in public, but you made him blush.

“Actually, I brought them.”

Freezing, you stared at him in surprise. “You did? How did you—?”

He flushed again, eyes fixing on the flowers rather than your face. “You buy pots of those every spring, but they always die because you’re out on missions. And you take daisies to the memorial stone a few times a month. You leave iris for your parents, and you bring peonies and cookies for the ANBU guards when you have meetings with the Hokage. And on the second Sunday of every month you’re both in town, you hide 100 tulips around the village for Gai to find.” When his eyes snapped back to yours, your shocked expression made him grow self conscious, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’ve, uh, been paying attention.”

“Why?”

He gestured to the room, pretending to misinterpret your question. “It’s so dull in here. I thought a little decorating wouldn’t hurt.”

You snorted at that, impossibly undignified but oh so delightful.

Of course Kakashi would stall now that he was here.

But… no. He was usually blunt when it came to bad news. So why was he stumbling through the conversation like he’d never spoken to you a day in his life?

Your face shot back to him at the realization, and he arched a brow under your scrutiny. Could he like you? Could you have a chance?

“Everything okay?” he asked gently, tone much more serious than before.

You’d worried him.

Before you could respond, Gai burst into the room with the second largest bouquet you’d ever seen in your life.

“(Y/n)! I heard Kakashi was with you, so I figured I’d bring you some flowers on my way to challenge Kakashi to a shuriken throwing challenge!” He set the flowers—which balanced precariously due to their immense size—on your bedside table, giving you a dazzling smile and a thumbs up.

Kakashi sighed, “Well, Gai, I was just here talking to her—”

What if you had been interpreting Kakashi’s expressions all wrong? What if he didn’t like you? What if this was all his way of trying to stay friends? Although you hoped for something else, the fear of rejection clawed at your throat like a Shadow Strangle Jutsu. This was your chance. The chance to get out of Kakashi’s rejection. Gai was the perfect opportunity.

“You should go!” You chirped, smiling at them both.

“I… what?”

“That’s the spirit, (Y/n)! It would be a shame for Kakashi to waste his precious youth not enhancing his physical prowess!” Gai dropped to his hands, beginning to do push-ups on the floor of your room.

Ignoring the incredulous look Kakashi sent your way, you wriggled your fingers at his bag. “What volume are you on? I need something to entertain me while you lavish in your youth.”

Kakashi scoffed at your statement before fishing the Make Out Violence novel from his pouch. He dangled it in front of your face. “Is this what you’re after?”

You grinned, snatching the book from his hands. “This just so happens to be the volume I’ve been waiting for.”

Kakashi blinked in surprise, feeling his face grow warm again. “You read Make Out Paradise?”

You smiled sheepishly under his gaze, fingers tracing over the edge of the cover. “Really, it’s all your fault. It was so boring waiting in line to reserve that new edition for you. I needed something to do.”

Because that gift from his soulmate, that gift had been from you.

“And now you’re moving on to book two?”

Embarrassed but pleased, you grinned up at him. “I may have figured out why you’re so hooked on them.”

Kakashi laughed. Just a short huff, but still. Could you get any more perfect?

He was about to respond again when Gai grabbed his shoulder, already taking his ear off as he dragged Kakashi out the door.

You settled in with your—Kakashi’s— book, pleased for the reprieve but missing him all the same.

Delving into Make Out Violence was both a blessing and a curse. You lost track of time as you devoured the pages, and the story was so riveting that you barely thought about Kakashi. Though, every time you took a break, love—that sickening concept you didn’t even want to consider in reality—was at the forefront of your mind. So you dove into the novel again with renewed fervor, completely unaware that Kakashi had hopped through the open window. That is, until a warm voice interrupted your reading.

“Having fun?”

In surprise, you snapped the book shut, embarrassment washing over your expression. “A bit. How was the competition with Gai?”

Kakashi shrugged, dragging the chair he’d occupied that morning so he could sit directly beside your bed. “It was fine. Nothing out of the ordinary for Gai.”

“Thanks for the book,” you murmured, passing it back to him. “Maybe I can borrow another one of your copies again sometime.”

He took the novel, setting it down on the bed beside you, only to take your hand in his.

His hands were warm even through the gloves, and his fingertips traced over your skin delicately, as though afraid his touch would somehow hinder your healing.

“(Y/n), we need to talk.”

Despite only holding your hand, he could sense the way your entire body went rigid. “Kakashi, please—”

“(Y/n). I almost lost my soulmate this week.”

You bit your lip, trying to ignore the faint stinging in your eyes. He was right, you were being selfish. It wasn’t like you were the only one who had a terrible, terrifying week.

You just didn’t want to lose whatever you had with him.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you didn’t bother to mask the strain in your voice. He already knew how you felt about him. “We can be friends. Anything you want. I just… I don’t want to lose this. You. I don’t want to lose you. Even though I was being so selfish—”

“I read your message,” he said softly, gaze fixated on the bend of your wrist as your hand flexed in his own. “I’ve read it so many times,” he laughed, strained from holding onto unshed tears. “I’d get it branded on my body if I could. Parts of it, anyway.”

He shook his head, looking back to your face. He didn’t miss the shocked expression, nor did he miss the tears still frozen within your eyes. He shook his head again. “I can’t believe how lucky I’ve been, that it was you and you were here all along. And then you almost died and I…” He paused, gaze still tracing along the bend of your wrist.

“You..?” With bated breath, you watched his eyes, the pull of his lips through the mask, anything to give away what he was thinking.

“I can’t stand the thought of losing you. Not after how much you’ve grown to mean to me.”

Your heart thundered in your chest. Was he accepting you or rejecting you? Your breath shuddered over your lips, hand trying not to clench his too tightly. “What does that mean? For us?”

Kakashi leaned forward, pressing a masked kiss to your temple. “It means I want to take you for dinner when you get out of here. And—” he stood, letting go of your hand to walk toward the door. The sun was setting. Visiting hours were coming to a close. “Keep the book. I’d hate for you to be bored while I’m gone.”

With that, he vanished from your room, leaving you to wonder exactly what he wanted from you.

Tossing and turning that night, you couldn’t sleep, not with Kakashi’s words ricocheting through your mind. He cared about you, but he was putting distance between you. He was being aloof, just like the cautious jonin he was, but he was exposing vulnerable aspects of his soul to you.

Everything was so damn complicated, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep until you’d gotten an answer to the questions burning a hole in your tongue.

It took a few minutes to sit up, but clicking the pen against your wrist had become second nature to you after so many years. You just wanted to know what he was thinking.

Do you love me?

He scribbled a reply a few minutes later, and you wondered if maybe he was just as terrified as you were, if maybe he couldn’t sleep because he was thinking of you, too.

Not like you want me to, but I could. Someday soon.

The thought sent hope skittering through your chest, but you tamped it down. He hadn’t wanted you. He still probably didn’t want you. You were a liability. You were a danger to his way of life. You were—

Ink stained your hand, trickling down your arm, as you realized the pen had snapped under the strength of your palm.

Without a way to stand on your own, you stared at the drying ink, trying to think of anything other than the fear in your chest, the longing in your heart, the nervousness bubbling under the surface.

Kakashi was stuck to the wall beside your window a few minutes later, staring worriedly through the glass.

An ink stain. Of course, he’d worried something was wrong.

He’d been awake waiting for your reply.

He’d been awake because of you. For you. The thought made you dizzy.

Silently, he slipped through the window, crouching worriedly beside your bed. Whatever pretense of nonchalance he kept up during the day, he dropped it now, just for you. “Are you alright?”

You nodded once, stiffly, mind still racing with the situation. Your friendly banter from the morning disappeared, words dried up as your emotions increased tenfold.

A million thoughts rattled through your mind, but you finally settled on one. “You told Gai you couldn’t love me.”

He cocked his head, confusion furrowing his lone brow.

“You were… it was a training day. You were talking about soulmates. And you told Gai that you couldn’t love a soulmate, so it didn’t matter if you didn’t find them…”

Your eyes were watering, and you looked away until you felt the warmth of Kakashi’s fingers circling your own. His hand clung to yours with renewed fervor, though the interaction still held the same touch of softness that it always held when you were injured. Comfort. It has always been an attempt to comfort you, a silent word of compassion. But now that he knew you were his soulmate, would his gestures hold the same meaning?

His voice, coupled with a gentle tug on your hand, had you vanishing into his gaze yet again.

“Soulmates are supposed to be your other half, right?” he asked softly. “If you’re mine, then maybe the whole soulmate thing can work out.”

Even in the moonlight, you could see the blush peeking over the edge of his mask.

You’d stood beside him through thick and thin. You fussed. You took care of him. You let him take care of you. You bought books for him, and he watched your favorite movies with you. He took you out to your favorite restaurants, and you always paid for him. You trained with the strength of a hurricane, and you always kept him mentally and physically on his toes. But no matter what, you’d both been able to rely on one another. It wasn’t romantic love, not yet, but it was the closest thing Kakashi had ever experienced to romantic love. He was close to being in love with you, and the revelation of the soulmate bond had changed those feelings very little.

He’d always been on the precipice of falling in love with you. Now that he knew you and he were destined for one another, the proposition of falling didn’t seem all that terrible anymore.

“If it’s me, you think it’ll work?”

This time, he flushed fully, pinking to the edge of his hairline. “Yeah. You’re… you’re perfect for me.”

Then, it was your turn to grow bashful under his praise. Perfect. He thought this could work because you were perfect. Not perfect in general. Not perfect to him. But perfect for him, with all of your many imperfections.

He wasn’t in love with you. He wouldn’t say it yet. But he was falling, and that was impossible to ignore.

His words left you lost in another world. All this time, he was rejecting his soulmate for fear they wouldn’t truly be his other half. But you were his other half, and he could see that now. He could love you. He could see a future with you. He could—

Kakashi’s warm voice brought you back to the present, hand still gently squeezing your fingertips. “Did you hurt your hand?”

He cares.

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head. “No, just a little ink.”

Kakashi stood, striding toward the other side of the room. He washed his hands under the sink before returning a moment later, damp rag in hand. This time, he sat on the edge of your bed, hand enveloping your own.

With slow, delicate movements, he swirled the rag across your skin, stealing the ink from your skin almost as effortlessly as he’d stolen your heart. If only you knew how easily you’d done the same.

“I was so scared you’d hate me when you found out,” you whispered. His hand tensed under your own, but he didn’t stop his ministrations. You continued, “Since I kept talking to you, both as your soulmate and myself, I was so worried you would feel betrayed.”

“I did,” he murmured quietly. “At first.” He flipped your hand, wiping away the stray trails of ink that had escaped from your palm. “When I got the message, I couldn’t believe that you’d… after all this time, it was you. And when we found you almost dead, I thought the world was punishing me again, just like everyone else…” Looking away, he began wiping the remaining ink spots off his hand, leaving your fingers to fiddle with the fabric on his knee. “But on the way back, all I could think about was the things I’d said to you. How could you trust me after I so blatantly pushed you away? How could you look me in the eye and put your faith in me when I hurt you so deeply? The fact that you’d tried to stay by my side after everything, the fact that you put your faith in me to keep you safe, after all the things I’d said to you… you never betrayed me. You’ve been by my side all this time, and I want to be by yours. Completely.”

You squeezed his knee, searching his face for any sign of illusion. “Is this real?” you whispered. “I want this to be real.”

Kakashi smiled, eyes crinkling as he took your hand. You looked dazed and happy as you stared at him; he’d never encountered anyone else so stunning.

Before he could stop himself, he leaned forward, brushing a masked kiss over your forehead, then your eyebrow, and finally your cheek. The pressure sent sparks across your skin, and you squeezed his hand a little bit tighter.

He hovered over your lips, breath ghosting across your skin through the durable material of his mask. You leaned forward, nudging his nose with your own. It was a silent message that you wanted his affection as much as he craved yours.

His breath puffed against your lips once again, and his voice, barely audible, filled the minuscule space between you. “Would you mind closing your eyes?”

Instantly, you complied, proving to him yet again how lucky he was to have met you. You put your faith in him time and time again, and he promised himself in that moment under the moonlight that he would do everything he could to be as compassionate a partner as you had been for him.

One of Kakashi’s hands released from yours, and you faintly heard the brush of fabric against skin. Your stomach fluttered as you felt his breath on your face again, warmer and closer than before.

And then his lips caught against yours, a gentle press against your tingling skin. His hand cupped your cheek, and you melted against him. The scratchy blankets and the faint hoot of owls faded into the background. Everything seemed to disappear except for you and Kakashi and the oh so delicate kiss between you. From the brush of his lips, so soft and tentative against your own, you sighed, leaning into him even more than before.

He groaned when the two of you pulled away. “I can’t believe I waited so long for that. Make Out Paradise really doesn’t do it justice.”

Make Out Paradise also hadn’t prepared him for the way his heart would race at the sound of your laughter.

“Are you sure?” you asked, reaching toward your bedside table. “Surely there’s a good passage in here somewhere.”

If it meant more time by your side, Kakashi was willing to spend an eternity searching the pages with you, stealing kisses for every paragraph you skimmed through.

In the morning, the nurses were alarmed and horrified to find Kakashi Hatake laying in your bed, one arm wrapped gently around your side, masked nose nuzzled into your neck. On the other side of you, his fingers brushed the cover of a well-worn Make Out Violence novel.

It was indecent, a break of protocol, and, most of all, a shameful mockery of their hospital security. But when you woke to find Kakashi’s nose tucking a little closer into your neck, a mumbled “good morning” slipping into your skin, neither of you could think of a more fitting way to wake up. For the two of you—soulmates, real soulmates—the scenario was somehow perfect.

He wasn’t one to care about looking indecent. You could certainly get behind that.

You welcomed sappy, romantic gestures. Kakashi was willing to privately oblige.

Yeah, you both thought, the soulmate thing could definitely work out.

Masterlist

A/N: Don't mind me casually fandom hopping again. This fic has taken ages to finish, but I'm so excited with the result! I have several more Kakashi fics currently underway, so I hope to get a few of them finished sometime soon! Have a nice day! :)

#kakashi hatake #kakashi x y/n #kakashi x you #kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake x reader #hatake kakashi #hatake kakashi x reader #hatake kakashi x you #hatake kakashi imagine #kakashi hatake fanfiction #anbu kakashi #silent writes

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jaesvelvet · 3 years

Text

precious — park jeongwoo

warnings: lowercase,grammartical error,mention of death,nightmare

words: 1.8k words

pairing: jeongwoo + fem reader

it's nothing strange when jeongwoo stays with your family during holidays or school days. you guys' bonds are really strong, besides your parents are also best friends since high school so that's why both of you are close to each other.

it's usual summer breaks, jeongwoo hanging with you at your house, binging some netflix series. jeongwoo who is already bored watching the vampire diaries for thousand times, secretly glancing at his best friend.

he never thought of having a girl like you as his best friend (beside haruto of course) for him, you're perfect. sometimes he has a thought that he would never bored live in this world with you only. sounds creepy but that's how he loves his friendship with you.

turning 17 is a lot harder than jeongwoo ever imagine, he thought going through puberty is a lot easier. but trust him, it's not.

when he gets older, he realized that he saw you not as a best friend but as a girl he wants to date. he doesn't know when or why he fell for you but for sure he head over heels towards you.

"woo, stop looking at my pretty face"

"am i supposed to look at your damon then?" jeongwoo scoffed, flustrated you caught him looking at her

"um, yea?" you answer, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl and stuffed into her mouth, without breaking the glance from television

jeongwoo let out a small laugh, seeing you, really into that show although this is their thousands time watching it

"im tired of these vampires, i'm bored" he confesses, lean back on the beige couch, once again he glances at you hoping you would respond to him

"you can't get tired of this, we're gonna binge this show until we're old," you said

"old? are you gonna be old with me y/n?" jeongwoo asked

without looking at the brown-haired boy, you nodded

"how about your future husband? doesn't he be jealous when his wife binge her favorite show with her guy best friend?" jeongwoo asked, when he sure his feelings towards you, he can't help but think about their future, if they ended up with someone else, does their friendship will last long? or they're gonna be like a stranger?

jeongwoo's question finally made you pause the show and turns her back to jeongwoo, staring at his relaxed face

"what?"

"i don't want to be married, no-one can't stand if i'm having one of those ruthless nightmares" you frowned and pout at the same time, jeongwoo can't help but smile as a response, he just wanna pinch your soft cheeks.

you suffer from nightmares, although it happens occasionally, when it's happened, you will call jeongwoo, face-timing the sleepy boy until the next morning because you're too scared to return to sleep and spent the rest of the night, crying. and jeongwoo is the one and only who accompany you till the next morning no matter how tired he is.

he never sleeps when you having a nightmare, he will take care of you and calm you down, you will keep apologizing to jeongwoo and treat him with good food the next day, and of course, jeongwoo didn't mind at all, because he hates seeing someone he loves suffering.

"so do you want to get married to me then?" jeongwoo asked, if haruto is here, he will screaming at the top of his lungs cause jeongwoo finally got some brave to make his move.

you let out a big laugh

"nope, i want to marry with damon" you stick out your tongue at jeongwoo, making the boy tickles your body.

the house filled with your and jeongwoo's laughter, although you guys didn't notice you guys are really at your highest of happiness now.

+.*

it's 4 am and you once again woke up because of the nightmare. however, this nightmare felt different, it made you shaking so bad and out of breath, your body all covered with cold sweats, tears slowly falling to your cheeks.

quietly you sobbing in your blanket, although all of your nightmares seem real, this nightmare felt too overwhelmed for you— usually, you would call jeongwoo but today you didn't, it because your nightmare this time is about him.

you never dreamt about anyone else, never! but tonight you dreamt about jeongwoo, you dream that he is dead. his soul left his body because saving you. all the scenarios from your dream keep playing in your heads and you want to forget it but you can't.

and that time you realized,

you and jeongwoo fit together like a puzzle piece.

+.*

you didn't sleep after the long night. you calmed yourself by watching some of your and jeongwoo videos together. you cried when you realized you fell way too deep at jeongwoo. his laughs are loud and annoying, he's too talkative, and he's too clingy. for others, he may be annoying but not to you, you could listen to his laugh, he's never-ending story while he clinging onto you every day and you feel weird if he didn't do that for a day. he also always put others first before him, he always cares about the people he treasure. how can you not fall for this boy!?!?

you grabbed ices cube from the freezer and put it on both of your eyes to get rid of the swollen eyes. although you knew so well jeongwoo would notice your swollen eyes but it's never hurt to try.

minutes later you heard jeongwoo's voice across the living room, greeting your mother. quickly you threw the ices into the sink and wipe your wet eyes using your sleeve.

you grab your mom's morning coffee and greet jeongwoo who already enter the kitchen, smiling widely as he saw you.

"jeongwoo, your voice is so loud my ears hurt!" you said trying to act normal.

jeongwoo grins and side hug you, jeongwoo frowns when he saw you drink a coffee? you hate coffee, even the smell made you mad.

"you drank coffee y/n? are you a real y/n?" jeongwoo look at you with a suspicious look and hit your head

"you ghost, get out from y/n's body, she sleeps and watching the vampire diaries all days it's no hope for you to control her body" he hit your head once again

"ouch! ya, park jeongwoo!" you slap jeongwoo's chest and put down the mug on the counter.

"that was my mom," you said making jeongwoo mouthing an 'o'

you and jeongwoo are now in your study room, studying for your guys' upcoming exam after summer breaks end. the room is so quiet, and it made you nervous. whenever you with jeongwoo, you guys are never this silent. usually, jeongwoo would sing or throw some stupid jokes that could lighten the darkroom.

you glance at jeongwoo, you lowkey surprised seeing the male is so focused on his study, jeongwoo is indeed a smart boy but you never see jeongwoo study so seriously???

"woo, you okay?" you asked

jeongwoo drops his pencil and finally look at you

"why?"

"um, the silence is too loud, you know"

"yeah"

jeongwoo continues his study after the short answer. his short responses making you shocked. never in your life he treat you like this

"woo, are you okay?" you asked again

jeongwoo sighed and his eyes bore into you.

"your eyes swollen, i thought we have no secrets at all? but i think we have now" he said and crossed his arms.

he felt upset when you didn't tell him why you were crying. he saw your eyes red and swollen in the kitchen but he didn't wanna ask, usually, you're the one who would tell him from a to z, what happens.

you bowed your head, you bite your lips. how you're gonna tell jeongwoo about your dream? you start picking your nails, all of a sudden you remembered your dream crystal clear, you recalled how jeongwoo's body full of blood, exited from his chest and his face so pale, mouth shaking while try to said his last words

'be safe y/n'

you shriek when the image of jeongwoo's death felt too real for you. you cover both of your ears and your face buried down between your knee.

"y/n are you okay?" jeongwoo asked, panic, he goes to your back and rubs your back, whispering 'everything is okay. he shocked and clueless since this is his first time facing this kind of situation but he copied everything you do whenever he felt blue.

after a moment you finally raised your heads and look at jeongwoo who worriedly stare at you. your face pale, trying so hard to forget about your dream and the fact that your dream feels too real not to help you at all. you quickly hugged jeongwoo, you buried your face in his chest, crying, and begged him to not leave you. jeongwoo froze at your sudden action but he still ensures you that he would stay.

"i got a nightmare yesterday" you finally speak up, your face still buried deep in jeongwoo's chest, too scared to face him.

"what? y/n why you didn't—"

you make a little space between you and jeongwoo

"the dream is about you woo! i dreamt you died last night and it felt too real! i scared, the dream wouldn't go away so i cried all night, i– still clearly saw your dead body in my dream. it all felt too real woo"

jeongwoo face become soft and his unsettle towards you faded away, he hugs you tightly and kiss your head

"i won't go anywhere, those dreams are devil trying to hurt my precious best friend," he said, rubbing your back to calm you.

you let go of the hug and look at jeongwoo with shy looks

"because of that nightmare, i realized something"

"what?"

"i don't love damon anymore, i love you" you confess making jeongwoo giggles

"finally i beat damon! come here bestfr—"

"no woo! i love you as a boy, man, or whatever it is. i love you not as a friend!" you said

jeongwoo froze, his smile faded

"i,i— you what? y-you love me?" he asked again

you shyly nodded

jeongwoo froze

his brain still processing all of your words. it's kinda strange when your crush has the same feeling as you

"woo, you're making me scared. say something"

jeongwoo looks at your red and swollen face, he smiled at how he is so lucky to have this girl as his girl?

"i love you too, i love you a lot and it's hard to keep it since you're my best friend," he said making you smile and tears falling on your cheeks

"please stay tonight i'm still scared," you said

"of course, now come here precious girl" jeongwoo said, wrapped his hand around you and kiss your head.

#treasure imagines #treasure scenario #treasure blurbs #park jeongwoo #jeongwoo imagines #jeongwoo fluff #treasure jeongwoo #jeongwoo scenario #jeongwoo x reader

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clusterbuck · 3 years

Text

in the eyes of all posterity

(1.8k, rated T, complete) (read it on ao3)

tw: no one actually dies, but there's a lot of thinking about death

post-well, eddie makes an if you're watching this it means i'm dead video for christopher (and a little bit for buck, too)

Eddie sits in front of his laptop and stares at the grainy reproduction of himself on the screen. The image quality is—abysmal, really. And since posterity is kind of the whole point, he considers putting this whole thing on hold until he can acquire a different camera, something where the planes of his face are actually discernible.

But it’s taken him several days to psych himself up enough to actually do this, and if he stops now he isn’t sure he can make himself start again. And this is important.

Maybe the quality is a good thing, anyway. It smooths out the dark bruising under his eyes, blends it in and makes it looks like shadows from the uneven lighting of the room. Christopher doesn’t know the specifics of the well, but Eddie knows his kid is worried about him, knows he still looks like he was buried alive even days later. The mud washed off, eventually, but the haunted desperation in his eyes didn’t.

So maybe it’s a good thing that the camera softens some of it out. If, god forbid, this video ends up being the last thing Christoper has of him, at least he won’t look quite as wrecked as he currently feels.

He moves his mouse over to the record button, but he can’t make himself click it just yet. He’s never been too superstitious, but—the idea of preparing for his own death just feels deeply wrong. A small, irrational part of him worries that preparing for it is as good as letting the universe know he’s ready to go.

But the rest of him knows that when the universe decides to come for him, it isn’t going to care one way or the other how prepared he is. So he might as well do what he can.

Eddie takes a deep breath and hits record.

“Hey, Christopher,” he says, trying to remember to look at the camera and not his own face. “If, uh—if you’re watching this, it means something bad happened to me at work. Or—I guess it could have happened somewhere else, too, but work is most likely.”

Eddie is hit with a sudden, deep conviction that he should have planned this out. Should have prepared what he was going to say, written down some kind of script or at least some goddamned bullet points.

Except he tried that. Has been trying it for the past several days, really. And every time he managed to get something down, when he looked it over later it never felt genuine. It felt like someone took his feelings and shrink-wrapped them, freeze-dried them.

Rehearsing what to say might have made for a more coherent video, but if this is all he gets to leave behind, Eddie doesn’t need it to be coherent so much as he wants it to be authentic. He wants Christopher to remember the real him, and try as he might, he couldn’t get a pre-written script to feel real.

“There’s a couple of things I want you to know,” he says now. “First—and this is the most important one—I need you to know that whatever happened, it wasn’t my choice. I want you to remember that if I had a choice, I would come home to you every single night for the rest of time.”

Eddie sighs and scrubs a hand across his face. “But something happened the other day that reminded me we don’t always have a choice. This time it had a happy ending—I got to come home to you—but next time it might not. So I—I just wanted to make sure you’d have something to hold on to.

“The second thing I want you to know is something we’ve talked about before. I don’t know if you remember, I don’t know when you’re watching this—god, I hope you never have to watch this. But you might, that’s the whole point. So. It might be a while since we talked about it, but remember how I asked you who should look after you if I couldn’t be there?”

It was the first thing Eddie had done when he’d gotten home, that day after the well. Or—the second, after he’d spent just slightly too long in a shower just slightly too hot, trying to scald the memory of the mud off his skin.

It hadn’t worked. He still feels it every time he closes his eyes—the weight of forty feet of earth collapsing on him, the pressure of the mud surrounding him, the water attempting to breach his lips and replace the oxygen rapidly disappearing from his lungs.

But he got out of the shower and put all of that aside, at least long enough to sit down with Christopher. Long enough to ask the question he hopes he never needs the answer to.

Christopher looked thoughtful for all of ten seconds before asking, “If you can’t be there, can Buck be there?”

And Eddie felt steadier than he had since descending into that shaft. The question hardly bears thinking about, but at least he and Christopher were on the same page. Buck was his first choice, too—how could he not be?

Buck, who’s never treated Christopher like anything but a fully-formed person in a child-sized body. Buck, who accommodates Christopher’s needs as easily as he breathes, and goes out of his way to build accessible skateboards just because. Buck, who walked through a watery hell for hours on end to find Christopher, and who Eddie knows would do it again and again and again, as many times as is necessary.

Of course Buck was his first choice. His only choice, really. He stopped having other choices a long time ago.

“Buck’s going to take care of you,” Eddie says now. “Just like we talked about.

“This isn’t going to be easy for either of you, I know,” he says, and feels like the most arrogant man on the planet. Even if it’s most likely safe to assume that his son and his best friend will miss him if he dies, saying the words out loud feels—presumptuous, somehow.

But this isn’t about him, it’s about Christopher. And if he knows his kid at all, giving him something to focus on will help more than anything else. “So I need you two to look out for each other, okay? It might take a while to adjust, but I know you’ll figure it out. Together.”

He should probably tell Buck he’s changed his will, so Buck can be prepared. Just in case. It’s the rational thing to do. Guardianship of a child is not something Buck should be blindsided by, even if Eddie knows there’s no iteration of the universe in which Buck refuses to take Christopher in.

He’s tried, a couple of times. He’s picked up the phone and pulled up Buck’s contact, intending to invite him over so he can tell him about the changes he’s made to his will. But he stop himself every time.

Because the truth of his feelings for Buck bubbles under his skin every time Buck is near, and he doesn’t know how to lift the lid enough to tell him about the will and then clamp it down again before everything boils over—and it can’t boil over, not when Buck isn’t the least bit interested in anything but friendship.

He’s going to do it. He really is. He just needs to work up to it.

“I could give you all kinds of practical life advice,” he says to the camera now. “But I don’t know that it would be worth much if I’m not there to see the context. So instead I’ll tell you this: listen to Buck. Whatever it is, Buck will help you figure it out. The two of you are gonna get through it together. I know he’s always gonna do what’s best for you.”

Eddie takes a deep breath. “Of course, that doesn’t mean you can’t ask Abuela or Pepa or Carla, but—if you ever wonder what I would think, I want you to know that I trust Buck to make the same decisions I would. I have absolute faith in him.”

He shifts his gaze a little, hoping that on the video it lands somewhere close to where he needs it to. “Buck, I know you’re watching this too,” he says. “I need you to believe everything I just said, okay? I need you to believe it because it’s the truth, and because I don’t know how you’re gonna get through this if you don’t.”

And just for a moment, Eddie thinks about letting everything spill over. About telling Buck he loves him, just for posterity’s sake, so that even if he never gets to say the words to Buck directly they’ll at least be out in the universe.

But it doesn’t seem fair to Buck, to leave them behind after he’s gone. After he’s no longer there to witness the potential fallout.

So Eddie just sighs and looks back at the camera. “One last thing,” he says. “Christopher, never forget how much I love you. I told your mom once that being your dad is the single greatest joy of my life, and that’s going to be true whether I die at work tomorrow or in fifty years as an old man. I’m going to remind you as much as I can, for as long as I can—but tomorrow isn’t promised to anyone, so this is a reminder that will outlast me. I love you, and nothing is ever going to take that away.”

Eddie ends the recording and drops his head into his hands. He’d thought he’d feel lighter, getting it all on the record, but it turns out spending any amount of time actively thinking about the prospect of your own untimely death isn’t exactly the mood booster he’d hoped it would be.

It’s still a relief, though—knowing that if something does happen to him, he has an ironclad plan for Christopher, and a chance to say goodbye, even if only indirectly. It’s a relief, but now he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He doesn’t know how to switch back out of the morbid headspace he’s climbed into.

There’s a shuffling sound, and then Christopher peers around the door. “Dad?” he asks. “Do you wanna watch a movie with me?”

Thank god for his kid. “Yeah, buddy, I really do,” Eddie says. He picks Christopher up on his way out of the door, relishing the warm weight of his son in his arms, and Christopher squirms and protests that he can walk by himself.

“I know you can,” Eddie says, but he squeezes just a little tighter and kisses Christopher’s temple before setting him down. Just because he can.

#911 fox #eddie diaz #911 fic #buddie #emma writes #shush emma

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roll-da-credits · 3 years

Text

Lycoris Radiata -Izuku Midoriya x Reader-

Inspired by the piano piece, "Lycoris Radiata," Written by Spikes, played by MusicalBasics.

Highly recommend listening to it whilst reading.

[1] [2] [3]

Word Count: 1.6k

When a childhood love shows up after being lost to time, it's unnerving to be presented by something so familiar yet different. Deku, lost to his own love and presented with the stresses of life and unrequited love, it isn't easy to see the world with an unbiased gaze.

!WARNING!

(This is for the entire series and not just this part)

BIG TW for death, suicide, abuse,

Minor TW for death imagery, toxic relationship, toxic friendship, toxic shit all around

A/n: The summary sucks ass I really don't know how to summarize this ahahaha, btw this is going to be a 3 parter and I hope all of you follow me for the ride cause its a bumpy AND angsty one. Like heavily angsty. The first part doesn't have that many triggering topics, but the second and third do, so read with caution.

Imagery used

Red camelia flowers

Deku felt his entire body freeze at the sight. Like seeing a piece of his past that was lost to time. He yelled your name and without looking back to see you already knew who it was.

His very voice brings warmth in your entire being, a soft chuckle left your lips. You could hear his footsteps getting closer and closer, he was running to greet you. To greet the girl who left so long ago. The girl who disappeared from his life the moment he went in UA.

He never knew what happened or why it did happen. Though all of his questions bubbled into non-existence when you stood and closed your arms around his torso. He wanted to lift you up to the air, hug you even tighter. After all, it wasn’t everyday he would find his childhood friend sitting in a park bench all alone.

“You know him?”

A lone voice interrupted Deku’s complete bliss. He felt you quickly release your hold on him, though the beautiful smile he admired never leaving your face.

He watched in curiosity as the lone voice wrapped his hand around your waist. A bitter feeling etched its way in his throat. He pushed it down as far as it would go, afraid by his own jealousy he would push you away from his life once more.

“We were friends back in Grade School and Middle School, we stopped talking in Highschool though.” “Izuku, this is my boyfriend.”

Deku smiled and held his hand out for your boyfriend to shake. Which he does so with a big smile, “I didn’t know you were friends with the number one hero, that’s incredible.”

His intimidating tone at the beginning turned to almost fascination. Deku simply chuckled to himself and scratched the back of his neck in nervousness.

Your boyfriend leaned down to give you a small peck on your lips and Deku couldn’t help but shift in his place. Feeling rather displaced at watching a shameless display of affection. He slightly looked away to watch the rose bushes not very far from where he was, missing the grip that tightened around your waist. The flowers were beautiful, bright red and imposing. He thought to himself how hard it must’ve been to take care of such a delicate flower.

“Why don’t we all head out to lunch?”

Your boyfriend suggested.

To which you quickly agreed and your eyes locked with Deku’s green ones. A gaze almost as if you were begging him to come along. He, of course, would never deny an offer like that, not when you seemed so desperate to get him to go along. A feeling of gratitude bubbled in his chest, he felt as if you were looking at him like that as a sign to reconcile. Maybe even apologize for your sudden disappearance.

He followed the both of you to a nearby restaurant, getting stopped here and there for photos or signatures by passers-by. Every time he’d glance over to you and your boyfriend with an apologetic gaze, only to be met with the warm smile of your boyfriend and slight chuckles here and there.

He was extremely thankful you were able to find yourself such a considerate and patient lover. It quelled the jealousy in his heart a tiny bit. He would never jeopardize your happiness just because of his selfishness to have you as his.

Finally arriving at the restaurant, he watched your boyfriend closely the entire meal. It wasn’t he was scared of him being terrible or a bad company, he was simply making sure your boyfriend was the right person for you.

His suspicion would soon disappear though, the moment both of you went in, he greeted the waiters. Even apologized when one of them bumped into him. He was kind to give up the table he reserved for a family with hungry children. And he patiently waited for another table to open up for him.

When the waiter messed up his order, he simply smiled at your request of getting a waiter to correct his order and ate it without complaints.

Deku watched in front of him as he always kept his hand slung around your shoulder. He watched as your boyfriend complimented you, flick away a piece of food that fell on your clothing. Deku observed him with a keen eye and yet could do nothing but smile.

He truly did seem like a good person.

Despite his keenness and thorough nature, he missed the way you’d often shift in your seat when your boyfriend’s body nudges yours. Or how you’d flinch when a waiter dropped a plate rather far from the table.

The entire meal Deku along with you and your boyfriend made small talk here and there. Deku grew to like your boyfriend more and more.

At the same time, he felt his romantic feelings for you lightly watering down. He knew it was still there, but once again he’d rather it completely dissipates than ruin your relationship with a good person.

After all, he was a hero, he would always care for you and give you the best of the best. Even if it meant letting you love another.

“Izuku!!!” At the call of his name, Deku ran as fast as his tiny legs could carry him through the forest and to you.

Both of you still children laughing and exploring the forest with Bakugou and his gang of miscreants.

He finally found you crouching, watching intently at something he could not yet see from his distance.

Deku stopped for a moment trying to catch his breath, he thinks you haven’t heard him yet since you weren’t turning your back to him. Still intent on watching whatever you were looking at on the ground.

Just as he started to walk to you, Bakugou jumped out of his hiding spot and landed right in front of you. Causing you to scream from the scare.

Bakugou laughed out loud, prideful that his little prank worked. “I got you!!!”

Yet, no laughter followed from your side. You didn’t laugh like you usually did, both Bakugou and Deku who was now already behind you grew slightly anxious. What if you had gotten hurt from Bakugou’s landing?

What they didn’t expect was for you to cry ever so loudly.

Fat tears rolled down your cheeks as you stood and pushed Bakugou to the ground, still wailing.

“You dummy!!! You stepped on it! It's dead now!!!” You wailed and cried, before turning your heel and running back to your home.

Bakugou looked at Deku for clarification, as he was still dazed from the harsh shove. Deku looked to whatever you were staring at before Bakugou’s scare and saw a crushed red camellia flower. Bakugou finally realizing what he had done still didn’t want to admit he was in the wrong.

So just like the child he was, crossed his arm on his chest and huffed.

“It wasn’t my fault the flower was in my way!!”

He too soon left Deku to his own devices, looking for his previously left behind gang.

Deku feeling incredibly bad took the crushed flower in his hands and brought it home with him.

The next day he got his mom to bring him to your place since for some reason you didn’t come over today to play with him like you usually do every day.

“Oh Inko, please come in. They’ve been crying since they came home yesterday, something about something red dying. It was probably another flower.”

Your mother welcomed both Deku and his mother in, explaining why you had been absent from your usual playdates. Deku got the green light from your mother to meet you upstairs, and so just like a little kid excited to show his friend a new toy. He ran up the stairs holding a tiny box in his hands.

He barely bothered to knock on your door and barged in, causing you to lightly flinch at surprise.

“Izuku?” He swiftly apologized when he saw he interrupted you whilst you were reading.

Waddling his way over to sit next to you, he smiled and asked what you were reading about. You explained it was an English book called The Very Busy Spider, in which the main character was a red spider with a green head. A character you enjoyed so very much.

Deku listened to you retelling the children’s book to him, all whilst gripping the box extremely tight. Ecstatic to see your reaction when you opened his little gift.

“What did you bring Izuku?” Your little fingers pointed at the box tied neatly by Deku’s mother in a red ribbon.

Deku grinned and gave the box to you, “I’m sorry about Kaachan yesterday.” He sincerely or as sincere as a child could, apologized for his best friend’s actions.

You nodded at him and opened the tiny box. Inside was a dried version of the red camellia flower you had thought died after being crushed by Bakugou.

You held it close to your heart and almost cried tears of joy before enveloping Deku in a bone-crushing hug. “You’re my hero!!!” Your words made a flicker of flame igniting in his chest. He didn’t realize your words impacted him so much until he went back home and couldn’t get it out of his mind. He was extremely proud of himself to bring a smile back on your face.

After all, if he was going to be a hero, he would need to ability to make people smile all the time. Even if it meant racking his brain to find new solutions to odd problems.

#deku angst #izuku midoriya #deku x reader #izuku x reader #midoriya angst #deku fluff #my hero academia #mha #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha x reader #deku x you #izuku midoriya x you #bnha x reader #izuku fanfic #deku fanfiction

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loversamongus · 3 years

Photo

Lovers Among Us - atla smau

masterlist / part 17 / part 18 / part 19

a/n: Zuko and Y/n’s conversation under the cut!

With both crutches under your arms, you made your way to the door and opened it. Sure enough, Zuko was standing there just as he said. You caught a quick glimpse of him leaning against the hallway wall with his arms folded, but he immediately straightened up when his eyes met yours. You felt your stomach drop a little and you had the sudden inclination to worm your way back inside the room where your friends sat still watching the movie. Surely, a man with razor hands and a decaying face who kills you in your nightmares is less frightening than this leap you’re about to take. Zuko must have felt your apprehension though because he held the door wide to help you through it and rested his hand on your shoulder to guide you across the threshold.

“You know, once I get a boot instead of these crutches, this will be a lot easier,” you said, more of an attempt to calm the hurricane of butterflies boarding up in your gut. “I could probably kick Sokka pretty hard with the boot, now that I think about it.”

Zuko didn’t respond; he only smiled. You would not have thought much about such a small smile, but recently everything about Zuko seemed to become a permanent fixture in your mind.

For the first time, you noticed just how small Zuko’s smiles actually were. So small, in fact, that if someone were not looking close enough, they may just assume his face was resting in his typical trademark scowl. How wrong they’d be though, you thought. They’d just be searching for his smiles in the wrong place. His real smile was in his eyes. There was a glow and warmth in his eyes. It was both inviting and comforting like a steady fire on a cold winter day. Zuko quirked an eyebrow, which you noticed immediately as you had just then registered that you had been staring at him through that entire internal monologue. Suddenly the carpeted hallway became very interesting. And the heat on your cheeks? Definitely from the temperature in the hallway. Or the strain of crutching around. Yep. That’s it completely.

You were quiet the rest of the walk to the car. You were quiet for the car ride to the Jasmine Dragon. While you said nothing, your decided to be quite the chatterbox. In addition to noticing and now appreciating all of Zuko’s little quirks, you also began to reflect on memories of your friendship with Zuko. You remembered when you first became friends with him and almost pulling an all nighter just texting each other. You remembered going to the farmer’s market with the gang, and splitting up to cover more group. Zuko stayed with you and carried all the fresh produce you picked out. For months the two of you kept up an inside joke about the man at the cabbage stand. You remembered how much you missed him when he went home to the Fire Nation one summer. You remembered the instant joy you felt when he came back early and being stricken with concern when he said he won’t be going back home for awhile. You remembered when Iroh was sick and had to be hospitalized for some time and Zuko called you at 3 in the morning just so completely lost. You remembered how you did the same thing when your grandmother was died. He rushed over to your room immediately and just hugged you until you felt something again. And you did feel something back then. But what, you didn’t know. So you pushed it aside and carried on.

The car door opened, jolting you out of your thoughts. You turned to see Zuko offering his hand. “We’re here,” he said, and you took his hand which guided you out of the car. He had already taken your crutches out from the backseat and handed them to you.

Silently, you thanked the heavens for giving you a best friend who has his own set of keys to his uncle’s tea shop. It was late and the Jasmine Dragon had closed hours ago. While you still wished Freddy Krueger would just come and kill you now, you were glad that you and Zuko would at least have some privacy. He gestured for you to take a table while he flipped on a few lights and shuffled to the back to brew up some tea. Of course, he returned after some agonizing, nervous foot-tapping moments later with your favorite blend.

“So,” he said.

“So,” you echoed.

“I’m sorry for walking out earlier.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

It was quiet for a moment and you desperately sought to find something interesting to fixate on other than Zuko thrumming his fingers on the table. The tea. The tea is nice. Good, although Zuko definitely added too much honey. You smiled though, knowing that despite his subpar tea making skills, he always remembers what you like. You could have been happy just sitting there, but Zuko broke the silence.

“What are we doing?”

“Well, I’m trying to stomach this overly sweetened tea. What are you doing?”

“Y/N…” This time Zuko’s eye did not smile at your attempt for lightheartedness. Try as you might, this was going to be a serious conversation.

“I don’t know, Zuko.”

“You have to know something,” he scoffed. Looking up, you caught him rolling his eyes and leaning back in his chair so that he could cross his arms again.

“Don’t you scoff at me. You got us into this mess.”

“Me?” he asked incredulously. You could practically hear the yell he was biting back. An opening. He was frustrated. You could convince him that this wouldn’t work. That you’re better off as friends because your friendship has already survived fights and your stupidity. But anything more? What kind of stress could that put on the both of you? What if it created cracks in the foundation?

“Yes, you. If you hadn’t walked out and caused a scene, we’d be enjoying a movie night or killing Sokka again.”

“I just apologized for walking out!”

“And I said you have nothing to apologize for!”

“YOU JUST SAID I CAUSED A SCENE!” His voice rose and his hands fisted through his hair. Letting out a frustrated sigh, he tried again. This time his voice was much softer, gentler.

“Why are you pushing me away?”

A worthy counterattack. You could feel his tugging on your heart strings. But you are a fortress, you will not crumble. This is for the best of your friendship, you reminded yourself.

But then he looked up and you looked away quickly. He moved his head to try to recapture your attention.

“Y/N,” your name on his lips was almost a whisper, a prayer really. You hesitantly looked back at him. “Ask me when.”

“When what?”

“When I knew that I love you.”

You felt your eyebrows shoot up towards your hairline and your jaw slackened in shock. Immediately, that hurricane of butterflies roared again. In your stomach. In your heart. In your throat. Can a fortress withstand an army of thousands of butterflies?

“When?” Your voice was faint, but you heard the simple question fall from your lips.

“I don’t know,” he answered.

“Zuko!” you groaned and facepalmed. “Why would you have me ask you that then?!”

“Because it wasn’t just one moment,” his voice had not changed from that soft tone. “There were so many moments that made me realize I love you.”

You could only gulp down a couple butterflies before he continued in a passion of communication.

“The first time I heard you laugh. When I see you hug my uncle. When you cried snot on my shoulder after watching Coco. I can’t narrow it down to one moment. All I know is when I’m with you, since I’ve met you, I’ve been genuinely happy. Hell, I look forward to just sitting next to you in class—“

“Why?” you interrupted.

“Why do I like sitting next to you in class?”

“No. Why do you love me?” Your voice was so quiet that a pin dropping to the floor would make more noise.

“I don’t think I could pick one reason either.”

“Try. Please.”

He paused for a moment to think, to choose the right words. All through his thinking, his eyes never left yours.

“You know me,” he said finally. “You listen to me and… you care about what I have to say. You know what will make me smile or what to say when I’m upset, even if I don’t want to talk. You know what I’m feeling, what I’m thinking. I love the way you lo—“ he caught himself and looked down at the table. “I love the way you care about me.”

Silence invaded the Jasmine Dragon again. It settled for a while between the two of you and you digested Zuko’s words. He said you know him but you have absolutely no idea what to say next.

“Okay,” Zuko the silence breaker spoke again. “I did all my talking. It’s your turn now.”

“My turn?” It was your turn to ask incredulously.

“Yes, your turn.”

“I don’t have anything to say.” Zuko’s words may have collapsed an area of the fortress but you began rebuilding brick by brick.

“Bullshit,” he almost laughed, but there was no mirth in his voice. “You wouldn’t have come to the door if you didn’t have anything to say.”

“Zuko, I--” you began, only to get cut off again.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said seriously. “Actually, I still have my fifth rule to use. Rule #5 is Y/n has to be honest with me.”

“Really?” you deadpanned. “Of all the possibilities, that’s what you come up with?”

“If it gets us to have this conversation, then yes.”

It was quiet again. Avoiding his gaze again, you look down at the table. Now you were most definitely pushed up against your last wall. A white flag would have to be raised. You were only tried to think up the words for your declaration of love surrender.

“Zuko, I--” you tried again. “I’m afraid.”

“Of me?”

“No,” you had to laugh. “No, of course not. I’m afraid of losing you.” Your honesty suddenly gave you a second wind, quiet and shaken voice be gone. Now you were animated in your best attempt to express yourself. “What if, what if we don’t work out?” you pleaded for him to understand. “What if it doesn’t work and you stop loving me and we start to hate each other and then we don’t want to even be in the same room as each other and then our friends will have to take sides and then the whole group falls apart?”

Zuko took a moment to take in your plea. You could tell her was considering what would be the best response. “Do you think that would happen if Sokka and Suki break up?”

“I already told Suki I’m taking her side no matter what so....”

You both laughed, and seeing Zuko smile again relieved some of your nervousness. It was so easy to talk to him. So easy to be honest with him.

“I guess it depends then,” Zuko started up the conversation again. “If you maybe... felt the same way about me.” A small smile formed on his lips again but this time there was hesitancy in his eyes. You felt the urge to start rebuilding the fortress again but you promised to follow Zuko’s fifth rule of honesty. There was no turning back.

“I do,” you replied surely and you made it a point to make eye contact with him. You noticed the hesitancy slip away and the warmth and glow of his eyes returned.

“Then you’re not going to lose me. If it doesn’t work, then fine. I’m your best friend first and foremost and you are mine. But I love you. And I want to see where that takes us.”

It wasn’t the first time he said he loved you during this conversation but for the first time, you felt complete ease overwhelm you. As if this was exactly where you were meant to be. With the person you were meant to be with. Fear and insecurity had washed away.

“Okay,” you smiled. “I love you, too.”

a/n: lol more to come, but back to screenshots for part 19 :) hope you enjoyed!

taglist (open, just send me an ask!):

@astroninaaa @danny-devitowo @kangaroobunny @softt-shoto @theblueslytherin @aphrodites-perfume @duh-dobrik @hotgirlazula @royahllty @strayadotcom @someoneovertherainboww @goddessathenaofwar @grim-fantasia @oof-imsorry @fiantomartell @simpinforsukka @lozzybowe @bombardia @xbarrjallenx @moon-spirit-yue @kneecoal29 @akiris @ray-ofmoonlight @xxoperatexx @eyelash-curler @wh0re4zuko @rainyy-nights @avatarkorraswife @prplmps @stfukie @spiritvines @expelliamus @protect-remus @emeraldpotato @adorablepandasuniverse @missmorosis @mpolarisblack @strangeinternetwasteland @appa-gaangnam-style @paige-j13 @anywhore-life-is-a-mess @the-paintedlady @shortmexicangirl @sadnessrehab

#atla #atla smau #avatar #avatar smau #zuko smau #zuko x reader #zuko x you #avatar the last airbender #zuko #aang #sokka #suki #toph #katara

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fruitless-nonsense · 3 years

Text

Hello again! A bit of a delay I know, had some personal life stuff, but I’m back babey!

Firstly, I want to say Happy Pride Month! ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜 I myself have only recently come out, but to all my peeps in the lgbtq+ community I wish you a month of celebration.

For the topic, I chose one that has been circling in my brain since some asks last week gave me a revelation: I will be discussing kolvina, and more specifically the direction the writers chose for a one Davina Claire.

This ship has always been an anomaly to me, like when it was happening on my screen I was in denial that it was happening at all, and the perceptions on this site have only fueled that feeling. I’ve been watching these communities for a few years now, and the general consensus is people both love and hate this ship, and both sides seem to be equal in numbers. So what is my opinion on kolvina? Well after much deliberation I have decided that.... I don’t like it, and here’s why!

First thing’s first, I want to say I understand this ship better than any other ship in both shows, honestly if the characters acted differently it would’ve been a lot better. The dynamic is there (and I know how important that is to people), not just a trope, but between both characters it works! Let me explain, starting with Kol. Season two goes into depth on his insecurities with his family and how lonely it made him feel over the years. I mean, the show always potrayed the big three: Klaus, Elijah, and Rebekah with the strongest bonds and while Finn chooses to exclude himself (for valid reasons tbh) Kol even in the vampire diaries wanted to be a part of that. The problem is (for some reason that is never explained) his siblings don’t care about him. The easiest example is how they reacted to his death, Rebekah was upset for a minute and Elijah didn’t even seem affected at all, the closest I can say is Klaus was angered and didn’t forget for a while, but as soon as the originals started nothing. Then we have his second death where Klaus takes the only opportunity to bring him back off the table and the only one who seeks to try is Rebekah, meanwhile Elijah is nowhere to be found in this department. This finally brings us to Davina. As much of an issue as this is (and we’ll talk about it later), Davina seems to be the first person to ever put Kol first. When he dies a second time, Davina’s number one priority is his resurrection and goes to incredible lengths to do so. I know people say it’s unrealistic for Kol to take interest in a mortal, but it makes sense to me, she’s a witch. From what we learn, Kol has a soft spot for witches cause he yearns for the power that was taken from him by his mother, which doesn’t even go into Davina herself being a rebel like him who paved her own way. Onto Davina’s feelings towards him, Kol’s the only person in her life that is there unconditionally. I know Marcel loves her, but his loyalty to his family clearly comes into conflict with his loyalty to his other family, including her. Klaus either ruins her life or demands things from her. Cami was there for her, but they scrapped that relationship after season one. When Kol is by her side, it’s not cause he needs things from her, nor is he there as some kind of protection. In season two, Davina had a plan and Kol’s response was “okay, I can assist you with that.” Side note, I really liked their friendship in season two before they of course made it something more. Regardless of the past, all of this material would’ve made for a pretty great relationship, but it fell flat, why did that happen?

I have two reasons for why I could never get on board with them. The first is the most obvious: it’s the age difference for me. I know we had Damon and Elena and Klaus and Caroline, but for kolvina the vibe was weirder. Perhaps because Davina acts more childish than them in season one, or because our image of her was young and sweet. It might also have to do with Kol referring to being Kaleb as the body of a teenager making him seem way older than he probably is. I know by season three Davina is 18, but that feeling never goes away for me. This was my hesitance in season two, but as a friendship those two were pretty fun together (might be an unpopular opinion). The problems start in season three.

The second reason is something that the community has kind of dipped into, but not enough. I don’t know if I’m not looking hard enough, but every complaint for kolvina in season three talk only about how insufferable Kol was, which yeah definitely, but honeys he’s only half the problem. Not even halfway through season two Davina stopped being a character. Remember her in season one? A bright spitfire who wasn’t afraid to speak up at the injustice of the Mikaelson’s even if it put her at risk? The girl who showed up Klaus on multiple occasions? Who stood for Josh, Marcel, Cami, and anyone else being pushed around by Klaus? The girl who was powerful, yet kind? A powerhouse set up on a warpath against the Mikaelson’s for season two? I remember her! She was one of my favorite characters because of how badass she was while still keeping her agency. I don’t blame you if you forgot she’s never talked about, and that’s because of what follows. Season two starts off well, with Davina standing her ground against the wolves and keeping Mikael under control showed she wasn’t completely in over her head. Her plan is to find a way to de-sire Klaus’ sireline so she doesn’t kill Marcel and Josh which shows she’s smart and thinking ahead. Then she meets Kaleb, and it goes downhill from there. I get that Davina is supposed to be a naive teenage girl, but that doesn’t excuse after she finds out Kaleb is really Kol. After her Mikael plan fell through her backup plan is to just sit around until Kol shows her the room and tells her about the dagger. With what she’s trying to accomplish it’s a smart plan, but that doesn’t mean her sudden trust in Kol is any less stupid. Her first thought when he’s gone with the stake is to assume he took it and left, so if she thought he was capable of that, why did she drop her guard in the first place? Gets me frustrated. When Kol dies Davina also completes the dagger and for the rest of the season does nothing with it, she does nothing period but whine about Kol with everyone she interacts with which is annoying considering how much she was a part of in season one. That was bad, but the worst is yet to come. Season three gives her a storyline as a ruler of the witches before immediately ending it, and when you look at what they threw away it’s even worse. So Davina gets Hayley to kill one of her detesters and it ends in a bloodbath and the son vows justice for his mom (which is completely valid), and Marcel hints at her turning into Klaus. This is promising, in this scenario Davina is Klaus holding power over the powerless, and Van Nguyen is Davina taking a stand. Very interesting, until she gets shunned in the seventh episode. What was the point? The next time we see her she is distraught at her current predicament, but not because she’s cut off from her people and her ancestors because now she doesn’t have the power to bring Kol back (of course it’s for no other reason). I just don’t understand why Davina was relegated to a side character in the later seasons after all she did in season one. They couldn’t have cut anything else from 3a (Tristan and Aurora perhaps, they were so boring)? Finally, we have her characterization after she resurrected Kol, nothing. She does nothing but wait in the wings for Kol to finish helping his family, a family she hated and had every right to. She either does nothing, or is only around to help with Kol’s sudden curse, and yet Kol is supposed to be worse. I know, I know, the big bad Kol Mikaelson became a lost puppy chasing after Davina, but so was she. They were just as bad as each other, two puppies chasing the tail of the other. Then she died, to push forward the plot around her. If you think that’s treating her like a plot device, let’s fast forward to season four. Davina Claire, harvest girl, rebellious teen, former queen regent of New Orlean witches, is a piece of leverage to control Kol. I’m done. There’s not much to say about season five, she only shows up to spout information and that’s about it.

It’s a sad end that Davina doesn’t even get an epilogue in the finale (I mean I have many problems with the finale regardless but I digress). Our only conclusion is that she lives happily ever after with her immortal boyfriend. Oh yeah! They never explain that caveat. She’s a mortal witch who will eventually die of old age, and he’s an original. I’m either supposed to assume Davina becomes a vampire (which would be the most out of character thing for her to do considering she hates vampires and loves her magic), which would mean women making personal sacrifices while the man doesn’t have to give up a thing (such a wonderful lesson we keep telling young women), or Kol became mortal by maybe also taking the cure with Rebekah (which makes a bit more sense since we know Kol misses doing magic). The point is, we don’t know, cause they don’t explain anything.

Look Davina wasn’t the perfect character, but she deserved so much better than what she became, and the worst part is this is barely talked about. Like I said, when people hate on kolvina, they approach it from “they ruined Kol!” And not really mentioning Davina. You’ll notice I mention Kol’s characterization, but I’m not going in depth. That’s cause you can easily find a more articulated response on how they did Kol dirty without having to look too hard, but Davina? She needs all the shoutouts she can get. Cami is overhated, and Davina is ignored. That’s two female regulars in the cast being treated terribly by the community and I will not stand for it! I wanna see Davina Claire deserves better cause she did.

To wrap up a very long post, we need to talk about Davina more, when I said season three was better than tvd I wasn’t referring to 3a, justice for the women of the originals, happy pride month, I’ll try to post more frequently.

#davina claire #anti kolvina #kol mikaelson #the originals #season 3a is wasted opportunity period #Davina Claire deserves better #she really does #women of the originals #klaus mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #finn mikaelson #the mikaelsons #marcel gerard #wasted female friendships

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plutowrites · 3 years

Note

jean + childhood friends to lovers? :)

ugh i love me some soft jeann<333 oh I added a little blurb bc i couldn't stop myself hehe i hope u like it bby♡

next door neighbour jean has been your closest friend ever since he moved in that one lazy summer day

throughout the friendship, he'd always look out for you in a behind-the-scenes kind of way.. ya know...making sure nobody ever gave you a hard time, being there whenever you had to vent, ready to drop anything to be where you are if you needed him (didn't matter what for, Jean would be there)

he loves to constantly tease you about things you did when you were younger. also rlly loves 'remember when' stories that will last for hourssss (bonus points if the convos happen at 3am on a rooftop)

you assumed you were the one who caught feelings first because before the two of you got together Jean would ask you for advice on how to talk to the girls he had crushes on—you were heartbroken every time but always tried to help him nonetheless. he was still your best friend and you wanted him to be happy.

BUT YOU'RE WRONG! He had always loved you; always wanted to be the one who got to kiss you, spoil you, hold you, create a future with you—at least, that's how he felt for a very long time.

he confesses to you randomly one morning—you were making breakfast and he was watching you with a faraway look in his eyes.

"Remember when we made that pact that if we were still both single by 30, we'd just say f—ck it and get together?"

Your eyes widen at his sudden words but only for a moment before you get back to pouring tea for the both of you. Eventually, a small smile reaches your lips. "Jean, we never said that. Like ever." You could feel his eyes bore into you as you finish filling his spiderman mug that he kept at your place, the only mug he could drink out of when he's over.

"Mm, I swear we did. You honestly don't remember?"

You knew for a fact a conversation that entailed something like that never happened in all your years of friendship. Your memory is far better than his and that's not something you would forget. You also notice the left side of Jean's mouth is slightly curled upwards meaning he was lying. It gave him away but still, you played along.

"Oh right, right." You nod your head enthusiastically as if the memory finally hit you. "Too bad we're 22 and not 30 though." You shrug.

"20." Jean coughs.

"Huh?"

His hand flies to the back of his neck, massaging it, he adds, "The pact was actually for 20 not 30, my bad."

Your hearty laugh fills the air of the kitchen but once it dies down neither of you say a word for a few beats.

And then you ask gently, "Do you really want to be with me? I mean, in that way?"

Even softer than you Jean responds, "There's nothing else I would want more."

#jean x reader #jean x you #jean headcanons #aot headcanons #jean kirschtien #jean simps rise #aot #snk

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florenceandthemachine · 3 years

Text

hear your heartbeat

happy birthday to the incomparable @elisela!!! just for you, please enjoy a good fake-dating au with plenty of idiotic and family members abound.

12.5k - on Ao3

—————

“I’m telling you, Scotty. New York has been good to me. Maybe we should just renounce California and stay here for the summer.”

“Don’t joke about that, dude.”

Stiles laughed as he shouldered his phone, taking in the city air as he strolled along the streets of Manhattan.

Needless to say, Manhattan was far from home—while the city certainly was his vibe, Stiles was no stranger to tamping down the champagne tastes that clashed with his tapwater budget. The little shitbox apartment he got through NYU’s housing program was almost a thirty minute train ride from school, but Stiles figured that when he was more or less trapped on campus for nearly fifty hours a week, he could justify spending his breaks wandering the streets of Manhattan and really taking in the city.

On today’s agenda, Stiles was looking forward to wandering around a farmers market that literally stretched on for city blocks. There were fruits and vegetables literally as far as the eye could see, spices and roots and mysterious tubers of all shapes and size, but Stiles didn’t give a flying fuck about the food—his real interest were the vendors and the shoppers.

He had learned early on that open air markets like this were perfect meeting grounds for mythical beasts of all shapes and sizes, so, what better palace for him to do some… field work, so to speak?

There were nymphs who had full bouquets of beautiful flowers that lived suspiciously long in their vases as long as you complimented the blooms on a regular basis. Dryads who sold the most delicious fruit he had ever tasted, even if they charged six bucks for a pear.

Stiles had learned early on to avoid the fae—basically, any stand that sold crystal or metalcraft. His first time at the market, he had somehow wound up spending nearly four hundred dollars on quartz; the moment the money had left his hand, the stall had all but vanished in front of him.

“The people are good here. They’re fast. Blunt. Sarcastic. My kind of people.”

“Uh huh.”

Scott liked to call their whole situation lucky.

When Stiles applied to NYU’s doctorate program, he expected rounds and rounds of interviews, lists of deadlines he needed to memorize, and some less-than-subtle digs at his proposed field of study (which was fair, honestly—he knew that criminology and mythology rarely mixed).

What he didn’t expect was Scott, though, the bro of all bros. When Stiles told him he was applying to NYU, Scott had cheered him on, helped him prepare, and then immediately applied to different veterinary positions through the state.

(Scott was golden, obviously—he had years of training, letters of recommendation from everyone he had ever met, and him being a werewolf basically made him the animal whisperer.)

At the end of the day, Stiles got to pursue his passion thanks to a hodgepodge of grants at NYU, and Scott was awarded a fellowship in veterinary medicine through the Bronx Zoo. What kind of weird twist of luck would let the best friends wind up together across the country like that?

So, yeah, Scott called it luck.

Stiles called it karmic retribution for their supremely fucked-up years at Beacon Hills High, but even he could admit that ‘luck’ sounded nicer... and if Stiles was being honest, ‘luck’ was definitely the best way to classify his meeting Derek Hale.

Derek Hale was smart, he was sarcastic, and he could go toe-to-toe with Stiles over completely obscure things for literal hours. He was a first-year professor at NYU, who had the tiny office right next to the broom closet Stiles had managed to shove PHD desk into, and he was probably the only other person in the program that took mythology seriously (meaning he was the only person who didn’t make Stiles want to put his head through the wall).

He was also hot as fuck, but that was beside the point. Stiles had a little bit of a massive crush, but that was also beside the point.

They had built up a fast friendship based on a series of arguments about the Necronomicon, of all things, and Stiles loved the thought of being friends with someone who didn’t know him as the weird kid in high school who knew way too much about ritual sacrifice and circumcision.

He had evened out a lot through undergrad. He was still awkward, sure, but he was awkward with a refillable prescription for Adderall and some sort of brain-to-mouth filter.

(Honestly, the fact that Stiles had managed to avoid making a single joke about the werewolf who was stuck teaching Mythology 101 really did speak volumes to his newfound maturity.)

Speaking of Derek, though…

“Stiles! Hey, Stiles!”

Stiles almost jumped a foot in the air as he heard his name called, doing a spectacular near-drop-mid-air-catch of his phone as he regained his footing, turning on the spot to see a taller woman with jet black hair waving him over.

She was… okay, she was gorgeous—dark hair, smooth skin, someone who looked like she just stepped out of one of the windows on Fifth Avenue—but Stiles was decently distracted, because standing beside her was Derek Hale, the object of his extremely private affection for the past few months. Who, for whatever reason, was standing there looking like he wanted the sidewalk to open up and swallow him whole.

“Scotty, I’ll see you tonight, yeah? I gotta go.”

Stiles pocketed his phone as he cautiously made his way over to the pair—trio, he corrected, because there was another woman with them, looking incredibly more invested in the conversation now that another party was joining them.

He hiked his canvas a bit higher up as he smiled, trying to remember where he had seen the two before… students, maybe, but if that were the case, they would know Derek, not Stiles. They weren’t faculty members, he was sure of that. Donors to the program, maybe?

Well, if they were donors, Stiles sincerely hoped that Derek would have tried harder to wear literally any expression other than his current ‘bitter and miserable’.

And if they were donors, why were they so fucking happy to see him?

“I’m Laura. This is Cora.”

The taller of the two women extended her hand confidently as Stiles got within arms reach, and he instinctively reached out to take it, Cora following suit. “Derek has told us all about you. I have to say, I figured there was at least a ten percent chance you were made up, but… here you are!”

“Here I am!” Stiles was officially lost, but he kept his smile up, cheeks pinking up a little bit as he turned back to Derek. “You’ve been talking about me?” he asked, his voice on the line between flattered and teasing, nudging Derek playfully as he tilted his head.

“Stiles, I—“

“Of course he has! Derek’s a private guy, sure, but you can’t be surprised he told us about his new—“

“Laura—”

“Lord, Derek, calm down. You already had your big bisexual awakening, I’m allowed to be excited to meet your first boyfriend.” Laura shot back, her glare rivaling Derek’s absolute best ‘listen to teacher’ look, and Stiles could see the muscle in his jaw start to twitch. He probably would have done something, but… he was basically short circuiting, brain trying to keep up with whatever the fuck Laura had said, because Derek now had his arm around Stiles’ waist.

Derek had a big bisexual awakening?

And a boyfriend, apparently?

How had Stiles missed that??

“Stiles, these are my sisters, Laura and Cora Hale.”

Okay, great, they were Derek’s sisters. Stiles didn’t even know that Derek had sisters, which was a little sad if he thought about it.

Thankfully, he didn’t have long to think about it, because Derek—

“This is Stiles, my… my boyfriend. Now stop bombarding him. Give him half a fucking second before you go a thousand miles an hour.”

Oh—oh God. Stiles was the boyfriend.

He had seriously missed something, then—he didn’t think he had confessed his feelings for Derek anytime recently, or he probably would have died from embarrassment. Scott was really good at hiding his phone when he was drinking, which ruled that entire scenario out. Stiles could be forgetful at times, sure, but he thought he would remember if he had managed to score himself a boyfriend.

He looked up at Derek, trying to ignore the sudden burn of contact where their bodies were pressed together, but his brain was extremely focused the moment that he caught the look on Derek’s face, there and gone in a flash. He felt the hand squeeze at his waist, and the message was clear enough.

Please.

Ah, well. Stiles was always good at bullshitting, and this was no exception.

“No, no, Der, it’s fine! It’s good to meet you both, sorry, I wasn’t even expecting to see Derek until… uh, later, let alone meet anyone new,” Stiles said, his voice 100% betraying his nerves as it picked up an octave.

Laura’s voice was much more evenly toned, even if it was a little teasing. “Oh? You two have big plans tonight? We aren’t interrupting anything, are we?” she said with a grin, giving the distinct impression that even if they were interrupting, she and her sister wouldn’t be leaving until they were good and ready. Stiles felt his mind kick into overdrive, waving the question aside.

“Oh, nothing like that. We were going to meet up with my friend Scott for dinner, introducing the boyfriend to the best friend, you know how it is,” he continued, hoping his little chuckle wasn’t too terribly fake as he reached up to pat the lapels of Derek’s jacket, letting his fingers linger a little too long on Derek’s chest as he nodded.

He hoped that she knew how it was. Hell, Stiles didn’t even know how it was. He hadn’t exactly been rolling in romance since moving across the country.

“Well, if you say so,” Laura mused, raising a perfect brow, head tilted to the side. “You look like you’re about to pass out, Stiles. You alright?”

And, okay, Stiles knew enough to know what that meant. It meant that her super-sonic ears could hear his heart trying to break through his ribs with a staccato beat, typically a tell-tale sign that someone was lying, but… maybe he could work that to his advantage. He swallowed, voice a little tight as he laughed, waving the concern away.

“Sorry, I just wasn't… planning on meeting the family today,” Stiles said, probably the most truthful thing he had ever said. “Usually I’d try to prepare a little more, you know, make sure I’m wearing something nice and avoid putting my entire foot in my mouth. Maybe just a toe or two,” he said, relaxing minutely as Cora snorted from her position near Laura’s elbow.

Okay, so self depreciation was a good way to avoid suspicion with all the Hales. Got it.

“Well, if you both have plans, I’ll make this quick,” Laura said, her voice deceptively charming as she sidled up next to Stiles, though he certainly wasn’t going to complain about the way Derek’s hand tightened around his waist. “The semester is up soon, what are your plans this summer? Never mind, move them back. We’re having a family reunion the week after finals, and everyone is dying to meet baby brother Derek’s new boo after all the stories he’s told.”

…stories?

He looked up to Derek again, who was now blushing up to the tips of his ears, which—okay, cute—but which told him absolutely nothing and offered him exactly zero defense.

“Actually, I already have a flight booked as soon as my spring contract is up. Heading back to Beacon Hills for a few days, and—“

“Wait, did Derek already invite you?” Laura asked, her expression pleasantly surprised, and Stiles was speechless for a half second before Derek stepped in.

“No, I didn’t invite him because I’m not even going, Laura. Besides, he has his own plans with his own family,” he said, and Stiles blinked as he tried to keep up. “And what do you mean, they’re excited to meet him? I was very clear that the further I can keep him away from you and Mom, the better.”

Laura only rose a brow as she turned back to Cora, who took a beat before looking up from her phone, her expression halfway guilty as she clutched the device. “I uh—I may have just sent a picture of you two to the family group chat.”

Stiles choked on a laugh as Derek gasped—actually gasped—and pulled his phone from his pocket, making the mistake of releasing Stiles’ shoulder to unlock the device, looking absolutely scandalized as he glared at Cora.

It wasn’t long before Stiles had a similar look on his face, though, as Laura took advantage of his free arm, linking her own with his as she started to walk. “Alright, Stiles, here’s the deal.”

“Cora, you little—hey! Laura, get back here with my boyfriend!”

“Calm down little brother, the adults are talking.”

“He’s younger than I am!”

“So, Stiles, like I was saying,” Laura started, oblivious or ignorant to the way Stiles' mind had absolutely reeled when Derek had called him his boyfriend for the second time. “Derek hasn’t been home for more than a day visit since he moved out to this dump, and no one has raised a stink about it in years. This year, though, is… important,” she started, and Stiles nodded idly as he mentally ran through the calendar in his head.

The semester was over in just over a week, with finals crammed into three days after that, and then—oh, the full moon.

No, Stiles corrected himself, the blue moon. The first blue moon in May in probably… thirty years, if he had to guess. He nodded up to Laura as that clicked into place, a flicker of curiosity crossing over her face as she continued talking.

“We won’t take up that much of your time—it’s only like two events, I promise, and I also promise Derek will personally take care of whatever flight changes you have to make so you can still get some time with your family. After all, it’s not your fault my bonehead brother tried to exclude you until now.”

“I’m not a bonehead!” Derek said, his tone of voice just exasperated enough that Stiles sighed, carefully extracting himself from Laura’s grasp as they slowed to a stop near the curb of Fifth Avenue, the noise from the farmers market blending in with the sound of traffic as he turned back to Derek.

“Alright, hang on, hold up,” Stiles started, his tone firm enough to stop the three wolves in their tracks, Derek and Laura wearing matching expressions of surprise as they stopped in their tracks—even Cora was peeking over her phone, clearly interested, and Stiles couldn’t blame them. It had probably been a long time since either of them had been stopped by a human.

“Laura, Derek is not a bonehead. He’s smart, and he’s sweet, and he’s very kind, and it’s okay that he’s a little more private. Yeah, he’s also a stubborn asshole, but… well, that’s one of the reasons I like him so much,” Stiles said, the first genuine smile in the entire conversation gracing his face as he looked at Derek again. “But you know your brother. Did you really think that catching him off guard across the country in person was going to be the best way to convince him to visit?”

He was fine taking their silence as an answer, honestly.

“Now, Derek, that being said, I… if you are comfortable with it, I can rearrange my plans and come down with you. If you’re not comfortable with that, that’s okay too. Meeting the family—at least, the rest of the family—is a very big step,” he continued, his words very pointed.

(Yes, Derek, meeting the family would be a very big step for someone you weren’t even dating, please pick up on the subliminal messaging here.)

“But even if you’re not comfortable with me being there, I think you should still go down. I’ll get to spend plenty of time with my dad, you shouldn’t have to be all alone up here while I’m gone.”

Moving to smooth over the lapels on Derek’s jacket again, Stiles only barely tampered down a noise of surprise as Derek intercepted his hands, pleasantly shocked by how easily Derek’s warm, smooth fingers slipped between his own lanky digits.

Stiles felt his cheeks pinks up as he cleared his throat, doing his best to act normal, because he was… well, he wasn’t lying. He had absolutely thought about Derek being alone here in New York while Stiles was gone, but that was more in the sense that Stiles would miss him.

He just didn’t know that Derek might be missing some family, too.

Besides, he may not have known that much about the intricacies of a normal, family pack, but Stiles knew enough to know that a big event like this would probably be good for Derek, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

Even if Derek was going to reject his offer and go down alone.

…because Derek was going to reject him.

Derek was going to reject him, right?

Stiles had been fairly sure of that when he offered, but judging by the way Derek couldn’t meet his eyes after something as simple as holding hands, Stiles might have just fucked himself over. Derek opened and closed his mouth twice before he finally let out a huff of air and looked up, doing a remarkably good impression of a guilty animal as he looked at Stiles.

“…you’re sure you don’t mind?”

Fuck.

“Derek, I wouldn’t have offered if I minded,” Stiles said, and that much was at least true—but before he could say anything else, Laura was squealing in his ear, wrapping both of them up in a hug so tight Stiles almost had to remind her that he was human, but he was able to breathe again as the car next to the curb chirped.

“Thank God, Stiles, thank you for getting through to him! Oh, Nana is gonna flip out when she hears who’s coming—Derek, you know you’ve always been her favorite—Stiles, do you have any dietary restrictions? Derek, send me his number, and—no, Cora, you are not driving us back to the airport, move your ass—“

Stiles looked up to Derek, his expression somewhere between bemused and fearful as Laura rambled on, but… well, the apologetic look that Derek had on his face wasn’t much reassurance.

“—and Stiles, you’re going to love Beacon Hills. Bye boys! See you in two weeks!”

Stiles was left, partially shellshocked as Derek’s hand slipped from his own, the need for the facade no longer essential as the shiny silver rental car pulled into traffic.

“… Derek, since when the fuck are you from Beacon Hills?”

—————

“Scotty, stop laughing, this isn’t funny.”

“Dude, are you kidding me? This is hilarious.”

Stiles groaned as he shoved another slice of pizza into his mouth, ignoring the burning sensation that spread across his tongue as he tried to pack as much melted cheese as he could into one bite.

Scott’s apartment had been their go-to for the entire time he and Stiles had been in the city—not because it was huge and glamorous, not by any means, but Scott’s shoebox had a door between the bathroom and the living room, and therefore it was the best place for bro-time by default.

Stiles had loudly complained about the entire situation when he and Derek showed up on Scott’s stoop, firmly planting himself in his favorite of Scott’s chairs—the ‘old man’ recliner next to Scott’s little television, the game on screen forgotten as he recalled their harrowed tale.

“Stiles, if you weren’t comfortable with it, why even… okay, no, don’t you dare answer me until you swallow,” Derek snapped, and Stiles rolled his eyes as he swallowed a few times, sticking his tongue out at Derek once his mouth was empty.

“Good. Thank you for pretending to be an adult. Now, why did you even offer if it wasn’t something you were comfortable with.”

Because it was supposed to just be a gesture, Derek. Because I didn’t realize you would take it as a serious offer, Derek. Because you were supposed to say no, Derek.

… because I didn’t want you to be alone, Derek.

Honestly, as surprised as Stiles was that Derek took him up on his poorly-timed moment of goodness, he was even more surprised that after Laura drove off, when he numbly asked if Derek wanted to come over to Scott’s for some pizza, Derek actually said yes.

Derek Hale was being social. Alert the media.

(Well… maybe ‘social’ was stretching it a bit—Stiles didn’t know if it was a territory thing or what, but Derek had turned hilariously, awkwardly stiff the moment he stepped inside Scott’s apartment.)

“I offered because I’m nice, dick, but don’t even think that you can turn this on me. Derek, they knew my name. They knew what I looked like. And yeah, I mean, I’m a complete catch and all—oh fuck off, Scotty—but what in the actual, literal fuck?”

Stiles didn’t think it was possible, but somehow Derek got even more tense, shoulders tightening up toward his ears as he looked down. It took a moment before he answered, but Stiles knew by then that Derek usually had to… wind himself up to talk about some things.

“My mother lives on the opposite end of the country, and even then, she still managed to set up twenty four blind dates for me last year. Twenty four, Stiles. That’s basically one every other week. Do you have any idea how much small talk that is? And how much I hate small talk?”

Yes, Stiles thought, to both of those questions. He would never admit this out loud, of course, but thinking about one of the most intensely private people that he knew stuck at some shitty little coffee shop trying to chat with some random female on behalf of his mother was hilarious to a degree he couldn’t fathom.

It definitely wasn’t a redirection of his own… personal feelings that may or may not be directed at Derek. Not at all. Nope.

“So, around the time the spring semester started, when my mother let slide that she had passed along my number to yet another perfectly eligible barista, or something, I panicked and told her I had a boyfriend. And then she asked for a photo, and the most recent one on my phone was that selfie you sent miming your own death in the stacks, so…”

“Oh fuck, Derek,” Stiles started, downing the last of his beer. “Your big bisexual awakening wasn’t just you trying to get out of your mom setting you up on dates, right?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, ass,” Derek said, rolling his eyes as he shook his head. “The two events were completely separate.”

Stiles laughed at the thought, but even then, his mind was reeling. If this wasn’t a recent discovery, how in the fuck did Stiles miss that for so long?

“Well, you’re lucky Scotty and I had a flight booked anyway. I won’t let you face them alone, not when you have a picture perfect boyfriend to show off now—what role should I take on? Doting, love struck fool? Rebel without a care? Some sad forlorn loser who… okay, no, that one is too close to home.”

Scott stood up and laughed as Derek glared at Stiles again, but it didn’t take a genius to see the tiny smile on his face, or the way his shoulders eased as he leaned back into the couch.

“Alright, this is getting too intense a conversation while the game is on. Want another beer, Stiles? You, Derek?”

Stiles made a vaguely affirming noise as he wove his hand in Scott’s direction, eyes drawn back to Derek yet again as the other wolf politely declined, his own attention affixed to the television as the game picked back up.

Derek was… not a particularly expressive person, Stiles knew, and part of that was because Derek had what Stiles affectionately called ‘resting grumpy face’; at least, he did privately, because the one time he said it out loud Derek had thrown the Encyclopaedia of Demomorgons at his head.

So, to the outsider looking in, Derek might have just seemed uninterested in the game; but Stiles had been watching Derek work for the better part of a semester, and he knew perfectly well how to tell when Derek’s resting grumpy face formed an actual frown. Which it did. Because apparently, the Mets had personally offended him.

“I’m sorry, are you seriously glaring at the Mets? While they’re winning?”

Derek leveled Stiles with the most unimpressed glare he could as Scott laughed from his kitchen, walking back into the living room with two beers. “God, I hope he was. It would be nice to have someone with taste in the apartment for once.”

“Scotty!” Stiles gasped, clutching his heart as Scott handed him a beer, extending the claw on his thumb to pop the top off before he handed the bottle over. “The Mets are a treasure, okay? If God lived in New York, she’d be a Mets fan. I have suffered much for my Mets in my lifetime, and they—woah, Derek, you okay?”

Stiles’ charming cliches would have to wait, because when he looked over to Derek, his humor dropped immediately. Derek had gone white as a sheet, jaw slack as he stared at the beer in Stiles’ hand.

He stared back and forth between Scott and Derek, trying to figure what the hell had just happened; it wasn’t until he watched Scott pop the top off of his own beer, looking between the two of them, did Stiles put two and two together.

“Derek, you… you had to know that Scott was a were, right? Like, you had to. He—Scotty doesn’t do subtle.”

“Me?! Stiles, you called me a wet dog for like a month after I fell into the Hudson.”

Derek let out a sort of choked noise as he shut his mouth, coming back into himself as a bit of pink dusted his pale cheeks, hands moving in front of his face. “Of—of course I knew, but—you knew?!”

“Dude, I’m studying mythical lore and criminology. I’m the one who taught this furry fucker how to control himself. Of course I knew, I... oh my god. You didn’t know that I knew—uh, that I know.”

Matching looks of realization dawned on Scott and Stiles’ face as Stiles stood up, putting the beer down on the coffee table. He moved next to Derek as he sat down on the couch, keeping his movement slow, reaching out to pat Derek’s leg like he was a frail old lady.

“Derek, I know.”

After what felt like an age and a half, Derek melted into the couch, a huge sigh leaving his lips as all the tension in his body bled out like a string had been cut, burying his head in his hands.

“We’ve had arguments about wolves in pop culture. I’ve offered to help you out with your coursework every full moon for, like, the entire semester. Dude, you had to know that I knew, there’s no way I didn’t—Derek!” Stiles felt his giddy laughter bubble over as Derek shot him a red-eyed glare through his fingers, his scowl somehow less intimidating now that everything was out in the open.

Okay, Derek wasn’t just a wolf, he was an alpha. That was… interesting.

“God, you two really are perfect fake boyfriends. Two halves of a whole idiot. Derek, are you sure you don’t want a beer? Or maybe something stronger, if you have to deal with Stiles?” Scott said easily, laughing as Stiles immediately protested, though the way Stiles eased himself next to Derek wasn’t exactly subtle, either.

—————

Scott may have been joking, but by the time finals had come and gone, Stiles had accepted the fact that he would have to forgo booze and opt for a mainline of caffeine to keep up with Derek. How one person remained so meticulously organized, Stiles would never know—but in the amount of time it took for Stiles to wrap up his grant work for the semester, Derek had given four exams, proctored three more, cleaned out his office, and shared the updated flight itinerary with Stiles.

“Wait, wait, hang on,” Stiles had said, tripping over an empty box in his tiny office as Derek handed him his updated boarding pass. “Why do we have to change our flights? Scott and I are already booked, you can probably just join us, right?”

Derek rose a perfectly sculpted brow as he tapped the ticket again, shaking his head. “Hey, I promised you’d spend as few days as possible with my family, and I intend to keep that promise. The sooner we get in, the sooner we start that clock, the sooner you get to spend the rest your time with your dad.”

Stiles blinked as he looked down to the itinerary, eyes scanning over the earlier time—and it was non-stop too. That would be a bit killer on the legs, but Stiles could handle that, maybe he could take some time to sleep or pester Derek for...

“Uh, Derek... this ticket is for first class.”

“I know, Stiles, I booked it.”

“Dude, there’s a reason Scott and I booked an economy ticket with a layover in Bismarck. There’s no way I can pay you back for this.”

If looks could kill, Stiles would be... maybe not dead, but at least set on fire. Derek sighed, as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders as he rolled his eyes.

“You’re not paying me back, dumbass. You’re already doing a ton for me with this little... charade, the least I can do is make sure your frail human body—“

“Hey!”

”—is comfortable in a lie flat seat.”

“Look, I appreciate that, but I’m not leaving Scott alone on his flight in coach just because of our... fake... whatever.”

Stiles’ voice trailed off in curiosity as Derek sighed, his cheeks pink as he pulled the paper out of Stiles’ hand, pointing to the second half of the sheet—where MCCALL, SCOTT had been printed in big, bold letters, that Stiles had completely ignored.

“... you got Scott a ticket too?”

“Of course I did. He’s your best friend, I wasn’t going to ask you to leave him behind just for me. Besides, who do you think I got your information from to book the flight?” Derek said dryly, as though his deadpan delivery could cancel out the ruddy color to his cheeks, or the way that Stiles’ stomach flip flopped when the reality of that sunk in.

It was nice that Derek acknowledged the importance of their friendship, in the way that tugged at the little space right beneath his sternum, but something about the way Derek so quickly dismissed himself was... concerning.

Stiles couldn’t help but play that little bit of their conversation over in his head as he packed, as he hopped on the train, as he met up with Scott and Derek in security.

Scott, bless his heart, was absolutely elated—his excitement was almost tangible as they dropped off luggage, walked through security, and stood around at the boarding gate. Derek had to smack the both of them to get them to stand up when first class was called to board, and Stiles idly wondered if Derek regretted associating himself with them when he and Scott managed to trip in sync as they went down the jetway.

Derek and Stiles were seated together, of course, and once Stiles got over the novelty of not having a middle seat on a plane, he liked to imagine he fit right in—easing back into the seat, enjoying the comfort of the little blanket he had been given, grinning at the flight attendant as she checked in with them.

(Scott was one row ahead and across the aisle, close enough that Stiles could lean forward and smack him if he wanted to... but the moment Stiles saw his seat mate, a pretty woman with dark hair and impeccable eyeliner, he knew his best bro would be on a different planet for the entirety of the flight.)

His grin slipped a little bit, though, as he thought back to the conversation surrounding the tickets, and he looked up to Derek as he settled in a bit further.

“So, we never went over what role I should be taking on.”

“Stiles, just be yourself. You’re funny enough, and you generally mean well, they’ll love who you are.”

Yeah… who he was. Well, who he was was someone who was going to be dangerously invested in a fake relationship that would probably end terribly for him, so that was fun. He sighed as he settled into the seat, opening and closing his mouth a few times as he debated on where to go from here.

No time like a non stop plane ride to have a potentially awkward conversation, right?

“Dude, we’re friends, right?”

“We’re fake boyfriends, don’t call me dude.”

Derek’s tone was teasing as he flipped through his SkyMall, a small smile on his face, and Stiles felt a little bit of the tension ease out of his shoulders as he buckled in.

“First of all, I have called many boyfriends ‘dude’ before,” Stiles started, ignoring Derek’s snort of laughter, “and I’m being serious. We... we are friends, right?”

Be it his words or his awkward energy, Derek looked up, surprise on his face as he closed the magazine and stowed it away as the plane bumped down the taxiway.

“Of course we are, Stiles. You’re like... the only person I talk to at work outside of teaching, that’s light years ahead of most of New York as a whole.”

“I mean, I’m glad to hear, I just...” Stiles chewed on his lip as he turned in his seat, weirdly soothed by the roar of the engines as the takeoff roll started. “You know about my dad, and about my school, and about Scott, and those are basically the three important things in my life,” he started, letting out a sigh as Derek just stared at him blankly.

“It’s fine that you’re a private person, I can respect that... seriously, I may not understand it, but I can respect it,” Stiles said, grinning as Derek shot him a look, lowering his voice again as he leaned over the divider between them. “But I didn’t know that you were from my hometown, too. Or that you had sisters, let alone other family. I should have asked, I guess, but... you know you can talk to me about things, yeah? Even after all this is over, you’ll always be Derek to me. Not just another Hale.”

Stiles’ was smiling as he gently bumped Derek’s shoulder with his own, watching the way different emotions warred over his face, biting back on the urge to babble on so he could give Derek the time he needed to respond.

“We’re... we are friends, Stiles. We are.” Derek insisted, looking down to his linked hands as the plane continued to rise. “Sometimes, I just... I’m not great about talking about myself.”

For a while, Stiles thought that was all he was going to get, and honestly, he was fine with it—it wasn’t until the fasten seatbelt sign chimed off and the flight attendants passed out little bottles of water that Derek spoke again, his voice low as he cleared his throat.

“My family is huge. Like, big enough that we need spreadsheets and flowcharts to organize family events like this. I know they love me, and I love them too, of course I do, but I made some really, really stupid decisions when I was younger… I know they forgave me for it, but...”

Derek sighed, taking a deep breath as he ran his hands through his hair.

“Sometimes it’s hard to be around them and still be okay with myself, you know?”

No, Stiles didn’t know. He only had his dad and Scott growing up, but he nodded his head encouragingly as he took a sip of his water.

“I actually have four siblings. Mark is the oldest, and then Taylor, and I’m right between Laura and Cora. They’re betas, like my dad; my mom and I are both alphas, her mom, too…” Derek continued, and Stiles smiled as he settled into his seat.

By the time the flight landed, Stiles’ head was full to the brim with Hale family trivia, names, faces, teasing stories, and the warmth that had danced across Stiles’ chest for the past year or so had bloomed into a full-on fire.

Would it lead to his downfall? Probably.

But when he saw how Derek smiled when he remembered Mark’s graduating medical school, or heard the pride in his voice when he talked about Laura’s charity work, and the genuine joy he got to see when he heard another story about Derek’s childhood… well, that was all more than worth it.

—————

“I think you should kiss me.”

Stiles had to stop himself from laughing at the look that Derek shot him, doing his best to keep his body language casual as he leaned against the gas pump at a tiny station outside of Beacon Hills, though he knew his heart was going at about a million miles a minute.

“I—you—what?”

“Derek, I’m an affectionate dude, in case you couldn’t tell from all the hand holding. And if you’re going to freak out if I kiss your cheek, then you should freak out now, not when we’re in front of your family.”

Stiles knew full well his heart betrayed his confidence, but seeing Derek’s ears go pink as he dumped the armful of snacks Stiles had asked for into the back seat was a welcome sight—it was always nice to know that Derek’s cool and controlled exterior could be ruffled up once in a while.

Somewhere between the rental kiosk and the gas station, Stiles had decided that he was going to go all in on this. His little crush was already stuck right in the back of his throat and would be unlikely to dislodge any time soon, so he figured that indulging himself in the fake relationship Derek had set up for him… well, it wouldn’t do any good, but it was unlikely to make things worse for him than it already was.

It was a little weird being alone with Derek—Stiles didn’t realize it until now, but between meeting Derek’s sisters and meeting the rest of their family, this was the first time they had been alone together. They had other staff members at school, or strangers around the city, or Scott (who had politely declined a ride back to Beacon Hills with Derek and Stiles, choosing instead to split an Uber with his pretty new friend, Kira).

“You know, as far as first kisses go, usually they’re a little more romantic than just a demand. You’re supposed to woo me, Stiles,” Derek said, his sarcastic tone betrayed by his shy little smile as he pulled the nozzle out of his tank, closing the gas cap as Stiles gasped in mock offense.

“Hey, I said you should kiss me, not the other way around. Why should I have to be the one to woo?” Stiles started, sliding into the passenger’s seat as Derek followed suit. “After all, this relationship wouldn’t have even happened without your instigation, so why should I… uh… Der?”

Stiles’ voice trailed off as Derek’s hand sunk into the soft crook at the juncture of his neck, effectively cutting off his entire train of thought as Derek’s thumb pressed against the hollow of his jaw.

“Stiles.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

“O-Okay.”

For a minute, all Stiles could think of were those cheesy old rom-coms, where fireworks would go off, or bells would chime, but kissing Derek was nothing like that. It was the comfort of wrapping yourself in an electric blanket, instead of the shock of jumping into a frozen pond; the familiar buzz of goosebumps over his skin over a bolt of lightning. He felt a surprised little noise leave his chest as Derek’s tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue flicking out instinctively to drag along Derek’s bottom lip, hands coming up to rest against the wolves chest.

Stiles could feel his heart beating through every inch of his skin as the kiss broke, struggling to remind himself how to breathe as he opened his eyes again, his nose brushing against Derek’s as he let out a little huff of a laugh.

“Was that enough woo for you?” Derek asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, and Stiles smiled as he nodded his head, savoring the way that neither of them moved back. Derek’s hand was warm against the crook of his jaw, his own palm flat against Derek's chest, and it was natural, it was so nice, it was—

Fake. It was all fake.

Stiles sighed, closing his eyes as he gently leaned in and pressed their foreheads together, that mantra playing through his head as he pulled himself back. He buckled himself in easily as he took in a deep breath, his goofy grin still in place as he looked back up to Derek.

“See? Now you can honestly tell your mom we had our first kiss at a gas station and that it was magical and I totally rocked your world.”

“Is that what happened, though? I mean, if you wanted me to kiss you so badly, you should have just asked,” Derek said, the sarcasm thick in his voice as he started the car, and Stiles laughed as they pulled out of the lot, his hand finding Derek’s easily once again.

Their silence remained comfortable as they left the city skyline behind and basically blew through Beacon Hills, the trees inching closer to the road as they wound through the preserve.

Finishing off a bag of M&M’s, Stiles cleared his throat as he crumpled up the wrapper and chucked it in the back seat, sucking a little bit of melted chocolate off of his thumb. “So. Is this regular introducing-the-boyfriend-to-the-family nerves I’m looking at here, or is this introducing-the-fake-boyfriend-to-the-family nerves? You don’t have any weirdos in your family, do you? An ex-felon auntie? A cousin who doesn’t quite get personal space?”

Stiles grinned as Derek laughed, oddly comforted by the sound as Derek shook his head. “Nothing exciting. A weird uncle, I guess. Lots of cousins, you should basically abandon any idea of personal space as soon as we walk in, and plenty of human family, too—so you won’t be alone in that. As far as felons go, well… none of us have been caught?”

“Hey, game recognizes game, it doesn’t count if you don’t get caught. And I can work with a weird uncle.” Stiles laughed at the sheepish look that Derek shot his way, his fingers still happily wrapped up in Derek’s warm hands. He could almost feel it when they crossed over onto the Hale land, the huge, white house as much of a giveaway as the shrieks of joy that even Stiles could hear from the property.

“They’re gonna love you, you know?” Derek’s voice was soft as he pulled the rental into a long row of cars, nearly lining the road leading up to the house, and Stiles felt the snarky remark die on his tongue as Derek caught his eye, his expression somewhere between grateful and wistful as he turned the car off.

“Maybe, but…” Stiles sighed as he popped his door open, chewing over his next words carefully. “But if they do, it’s because they already love you.”

He took it as a personal victory when Derek turned away, his ears pink again, and Stiles couldn’t help but grin as he followed the werewolf up the path to his family home.

The Hale House was probably as huge and impressive as the Hale family itself from the outside, and Stiles did his best not to gape like a fool as Derek opened the door for him, his hand finding the small of Stiles’ back as they stepped into the house. Polished floors, huge, high windows, a grand staircase that was the definition of grand, and—

“Derek!”

—and another unfairly attractive Hale moving forward to greet them. Tall, broad, dark hair with just a splash of salt around the temples and the goatee, shining a million watt smile on Derek and Stiles as he wiped his hands on his probably-uncomfortably-tight jeans.

Jesus, was everyone in this family gorgeous? Stiles was going to get a complex.

He looked up as the stranger and Derek briefly hugged, watching the halfway-subtle way they scented one another, Mark’s head buried in Derek’s neck for a half moment before they pulled away. If Stiles strained his ear, he could have heard something along the lines of ‘be nice’ as Derek pulled back; if the situation weren’t so funny, Stiles probably would have blushed.

“Don’t listen to him, I’m always nice. I’m Mark, and you…” Mark started, his million watt smile back in place as his eyes dragged over Stiles’ body, “... you must be Stiles.” Stiles snorted as Mark pulled him into an easy hug, catching Stiles just a little off-guard as he was wrapped in another pair of arms.

Apparently Derek’s family was an affectionate bunch. Stiles didn’t know if it was a wolf thing or a Hale thing, but either way, it was good to know.

“Mark, uh, Seattle, right? You’re the surgeon?” Stiles asked, clearing his throat as the hug carried on just a bit too long, regaining some footing in the introduction as he pulled back. “Derek’s told me a lot about you.”

That was… mostly true, Derek had told him enough about Mark to thoroughly embarrass the older male, and Mark looked like he expected nothing less as he laughed, holding Stiles’ shoulders as he stood at arms length. “Yeah, I’m sure he did, but it’s probably all garbage. After all, how can you really describe a wonder like me in words, huh?”

He actually winked, and Stiles honestly couldn’t believe that this dude was for real.

“Der, nice job with this one. He’s cute. Kid, is my brother treating you well? Cause, you know, if Hale is your taste, you can do much better than—”

”Mark—“

“Oh, lighten up Der-bear, there isn’t enough Botox in the world to get rid of those scowl lines. It was a joke. Now come on, everyone’s out back.”

Stiles laughed again as Mark put Derek in an easy headlock, ruffling up his hair as he led them outside, immediately filing ‘Der-bear’ away for future use as they stepped out into the backyard.

The backyard, which was absolutely filled with Hales.

He felt his heart do a funny little lurch as he was hit with the sheer family of it all—all dark haired, all gorgeous, and for just a moment, he wanted to smack Derek upside the head. There were probably generations of Hales here; Derek had all this family, this built in support group, and he was just going to spend the summer holed up in New York?

“Alright, Siles, we’re gonna keep you in with the main family and keep you away from the cousins,” Mark started, artfully ignoring the way Derek was swatting at him. “Uncle Peter all but insisted that Mom come pick him up, so you’ll get to avoid them until later tonight, but who you really want to watch out for is—“

“Is that my grandbaby?!”

Mark stiffened as Derek perked up, and Stiles couldn’t help but snicker as a bony hand shot up, grabbing Mark by the scruff of his neck, pulling him off of Derek with a flourish that would probably seem overly dramatic if Stiles didn’t know just how much werewolf strength was packed behind it.

“Derek!”

“Hi, Nana.”

Stiles couldn’t keep the smile off of his face as Derek leaned in to wrap his arms around the older woman—she was a good foot shorter than he was, her movements loud, with light skinned with the same tell-tale black hair that the rest of the family had. What caught Stiles’ eye, though, was the way Derek scented her—it was the same way Mark scented him, a familial nudge that Stiles read easily as a sign of deference.

Whoever this Nana was, she was clearly the woman in charge here.

“You know, we’re all technically her grandbabies,” Mark started as he reappeared at Stiles’ shoulder, rubbing the back of his neck, his childish pout painfully obvious as he pointed his words. “But you wouldn’t know it with the blatant favoritism she shows for Derek!”

“Mark, don’t be such a baby,” Nana Hale said as she pulled back from Derek’s hug, patting his cheek affectionately. She raised a brow in a spectacularly unimpressed fashion as she turned to look at her eldest grandson, sighing in mock disappointment. “Not that I thought a career based off of liposuction and face lifts would have brought you some maturity.”

“That’s—I don’t just do—Nana!”

“Now, who do we have here? Derek, are you going to introduce me to your special friend?”

Ignoring Mark’s protests easily as she turned her attention, Stiles felt his heart pick up again, his eyes flicking to Derek as he beamed; Stiles wasn’t sure if he was happy to see Mark get smacked down, or if he was happy to introduce Stiles, but Stiles would have literally killed a man to see Derek smile that brightly on a regular basis.

“Nana, this is my boyfriend, Stiles Stilinski. Stiles, this is my grandmother, Ger—“

“Nana Hale will do just fine, thank you very much,” she interrupted, pulling a face that made Stiles grin—he could absolutely relate to someone who would rather set their birth name on fire than own up to it. “Now, come here, let me get a look at you.”

Stiles stepped forward and hesitated a half moment, not sure if he should try one last time for a handshake or wait for her to initiate a hug, but before he could make up his mind she had her hands clasped on his elbows, a grip like iron stopping him in his tracks.

“Scrawny little thing, aren’t you? We’ll take care of that, don’t you worry. It’s good to meet you, sweetheart, let’s get you some food.”

“It’s good to meet you too—and some food sounds great,” Stiles said with a laugh, ignoring the fact that he was still full of junk food as Nana Hale all but preened beside him. Her grip was gentle but unyielding as she dragged him to a table that was piled with food, giving a half wave to Laura and Cora, who were stationed beside a punch bowl the size of a fish tank as he kept himself a half step behind Nana.

Stiles wasn’t dumb, okay? He knew how to make nice with wolves, and more importantly, he knew how to be subtle.

(He didn’t like it, but he knew how to do it.)

“Uncle Derek! Get Uncle Derek!!”

Thankfully, the moment was over in a flash as Stiles heard a familiar name called out in a high pitched squeal, looking back out to the yard where a hoard of kids had just caught sight (or scent?) of Derek, immediately abandoning the rough-and-tumble games they seemed to be wrapped up in to run toward Derek as fast as their little legs could carry them.

Derek immediately tensed, a manic grin on his face as he prepared to run, body twitching as he caught himself before taking off. He sent a look Stiles’ way that was somehow both apologetic and asking remission, and Stiles sighed as he smiled.

“You better run, Uncle Derek. They’re gonna get you,” Stiles said mock-seriously, only barely keeping a straight face as Derek instead ran straight to the kids, making all sorts of comedic noises as they mobbed his legs.

Fuck, he was cute.

Stiles’ attention was pulled off of Derek as he felt eyes on him, subtly scanning the yard before he made eye contact with another adult in the family, who was very shirtless, and very sweaty, and very much walking toward them with a bright smile on his face.

Okay, Stiles was definitely getting a complex.

“You must be Stiles!” he exclaimed once he was closer to their little group, and Stiles had never been as thankful for a child as he was for the tiny body perched on top of the other males shoulders, because he was just about at his ‘hugging gorgeous people’ limit. He was still sweating, for fucks sake, but Stiles supposed that even a wolf got tired out when they had eight kids hanging from their body until Uncle Derek stepped in.

“I am, and…” Stiles was about to assume this was the firefighter sibling, but as soon as he opened his mouth, the kid on top of his shoulders smiled, and Stiles was absolutely smitten. “And who is this little guy?”

The distraction was apparently a welcome one, because shirtless dude’s smile grew even wider, reaching up to pat the kid on a mop of curly hair before he lifted him up and over, holding him at chest level. “This is Isaac. Isaac, can you say hi to Stiles? He’s your uncle Derek’s special friend.”

Stiles literally felt his heart melt as Isaac gave a shy little wave, looking up at him with big blue eyes. He couldn’t have been older than three or four, and Stiles smiled and waved back as Isaac was set down on the ground.

“You wanna go play with Uncle D?” Any hint of shyness was forgotten the moment the question was asked, taking off toward Derek as fast as his little legs could carry him, which… wasn’t very fast, but was very, very cute.

“They all yours?” Stiles asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked over to Derek, who now had at least six kids hanging off of him. He smiled as the other male shivered, shaking his head quickly.

“God no, just the three. Erica and Boyd, and Isaac too, now that the adoption has been finalized. Those kids basically run the joint, Derek included—as long as you don’t mind the occasional toddler mobbing, you’ll fit in just fine.”

“Thanks, random shirtless man, I really hope so.”

Stiles grinned as Laura choked on a mouthful of punch, the weirdness of the situation apparently just now visible to her as she sputtered, punching her brother in the arm. “Oh god, Taylor, what is wrong with you! Go put on a shirt, you can’t just—you didn’t even introduce yourself, I swear—Stiles is a guest, you weirdo!”

They kept bickering back and forth as Taylor pulled an undershirt on over his head, the whining turning into background noise as he poured himself a glass of punch. He knew perfectly well what Laura was trying to say—Stiles is a human—and he was pretty sure he was mostly flattered by everyone trying so hard, but any coherent thought left his head as he took a bite of the ribs, watching Nana Hale grin out of the corner of his eyes as he groaned in delight.

“God, they really do have Derek wrapped around their pudgy fingers,” Cora mused, and Stiles nodded his head, swallowing. It was honestly hilarious to watch Derek try to manage all those kids by himself; they seemed determined to pile themselves onto his head and shoulders, and he could almost see Derek sweat, trying to make sure he didn’t drop anyone as Isaac managed to wriggle his way into Derek’s grip.

He tilted his head in consideration, taking a sip of his drink before he spoke up.

“Yeah, he always did strike me as that kind of Alpha.”

He couldn’t help but savor the way the conversation ground to a halt around him, Laura and Taylor both sucking in a deep breath as Mark shattered the glass he was holding. There probably was a better way to acknowledge that he was in on the secret, but as funny as it was watching Derek’s siblings tiptoe around the fact, he figured it was best to rip the bandaid off in one go.

Even if it meant he had the attention of the Hales closest to him in one second, flat, Nana’s burning red from where she stood with a plate piled high with food.

He probably should have been nervous, but as he looked back at Derek, he could tell it was the right choice—Derek was all smiles, waiting only a beat before he popped his fangs and playfully snapped at one of his little nieces, the air soon full of squealing laughter once again.

Keeping his gaze even, Stiles smiled in thanks as he took the plate of food Nana offered to him, watching as her eyes melted back into their darker, human color. She was staring at him like he was a particularly complex puzzle, and she wasn’t alone—Cora looked hilariously outraged that she didn’t realize sooner, and even Mark was looking over him with renewed interest as his hand healed.

“I knew you were a smart boy. He told you?”

Nana’s question was accusing, but not unkind, and Stiles shrugged it off easily as he popped a chip into his mouth.

“He didn’t have to. My best friend was bitten when we were both fifteen. He didn’t have… anything, no alpha, no pack, just me and my mad Googling skills, and we’ve had plenty of supernatural run-ins over the years. Derek didn’t tell me because he didn’t have to tell me—I’m not anything special, but I’d like to think I can spot a non-human from at least fifty feet. Maybe more on a good day.”

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong.”

Stiles jumped as he heard Derek’s voice from behind him, and it truly was a credit to his poise and sophistication that he only blushed a little as Derek’s arm snaked around his waist. His body was warm, far warmer than it had been ten minutes ago, and Derek’s breath came a little heavy as he kissed the back of Stiles’ head.

“You are definitely something special.”

“You—you absolute cheeseball, what is wrong with you—” Stiles managed to get out as he shoved at Derek’s shoulder, his entire face burning red as Laura and Cora both gagged. Any residual awkwardness melted away as Nana’s sharp laugh cut through the air, the sound putting him back at ease as he leaned back into Derek’s warmth.

Somewhere between the fortieth round of storytelling and the gathering moving back into the house, Stiles needed a breather. Derek’s family was huge, and loud, and honestly, Stiles loved it—but it wasn’t long before he felt an itch beneath his skin, his fingers buzzing against his thigh, the muscles in his jaw a little too tight.

Stiles had expected Derek to be pretty popular in the family—what he didn’t expect, though, was that he would be anything more than an introduction and the same polite questions that everyone gave the new boyfriend.

“Wait, no fucking way did the two of you take down a Kanima, Stiles, I’m calling bullshit right now—“

Derek’s siblings were great, but they were also the worst; the minute they found out that Stiles had his own supernatural background, they were pestering him for stories, demanding his opinion of things, getting more and more exasperated with his entire life the more he shared.

Stiles knew that his life was crazy, okay? He didn’t need the constant reminders or the slack-jawed shocked expressions to reinforce that fact.

“Jesus, we didn’t even know that there were any wendigos in the state, and you knew an entire family of them?”

The only stories he flat out refused to talk about were the… issues he had had with hunters through high school—this was a party, after all, and he didn’t want to be the one to bring the vibe down by talking about the one time an assassin held a gun to his head to try and draw Scott out.

Fun times.

“What do you mean, you just know a banshee? And set her up with a hellhound? Dude, who are you?!”

Kissing Derek had, oddly enough, only exasperated the situation. In less than a day, they had gotten better at trading little affections back and forth; but instead of helping Stiles calm down, they only increased that thrumming nerves that bounced around at the base of his skull.

Which sucked, honestly, because kissing Derek was… really, really nice.

Stiles waited until another cousin who’s name he would never remember caught Derek up in a conversation about another tradition he couldn’t follow before he squeezed Derek’s hand, taking the opportunity to stand up from his spot on the couch and slip away.

The Hale House was huge, and outside was no exception; Stiles soon found himself on the porch, a huge wraparound wooden structure with built-in benches that let you enjoy the kind of view that made Stiles remember why he loved home so much. He treated himself to a few pictures of the sunset over Beacon Canyon before he flopped himself down on a bench, rubbing at his neck.

“Stiles? Everything alright?”

He had half expected Derek to follow him out after a few moments—but to his surprise, it was Nana Hale that sat beside him, her cheeks still pink with laughter as she tucked a jet black flyaway behind an ear.

“Is—oh, no, it’s great! Just wanted to, uh, snap a few pictures of the view.”

Another half truth—he was full to bursting with those lately.

“I know that our family can be… a little overwhelming,” she said, her tone even as she rose a brow, keeping her gaze forward as her fingers drummed a pattern into her knee.

Stiles hummed in agreement, his own smile a touch more genuine as he looked over to her. “Maybe, but that’s not a bad thing. When I was growing up, I spent so much time wondering what it would be like, to have siblings, and cousins, and… well, it might be a lot, but it’s a lot of love, too. I’m really glad Derek has that kind of support.”

Nana’s fingers stilled against her knee as she turned to face Stiles, and for the first time, Stiles was really able to get a good look at her properly. He could understand why she was the matriarch of the family, and how she had kept that title so long; even if he hadn’t witnessed her taking Mark down less than four hours ago, there was a whole other kind of strength that she was showing here, radiating off of her in waves.

“He does. But he doesn’t just have us for love and support... or was I reading the way you look at him wrong?” Her tone was teasing as she rose her brow, and Stiles felt his cheeks pink up spectacularly as he coughed, his eyes flashing back to the window for only a moment before Nana patted his knee.

“Don’t worry, the house is completely soundproof. Those nosy little pups can’t hear a word we say. Now tell me, how long have you been in love with my grandson?”

Now fully, beautifully red, Stiles groaned as he hid his face in his hands, Nana’s laughter ringing strong and clear as she stood up and walked toward the railing. “Oh don’t be so dramatic, I have no intention of spoiling that surprise until you’re ready to really woo him with it. And you’d better woo him! You know as well as I do that he deserves the romancing.”

Her tone softened as she chuckled, trailing off with a sigh and a sort of wistful smile as she shook her head. “New York has been good to him. You have, too, I think. California was… a rough part in his life.”

Something in the way she phrased it got the investigative side of his brain thrumming, his curiosity piqued as he remembered what Derek said on the plane.

‘I know they forgave me, but… sometimes it’s hard to be around them and still be okay with myself, you know?’

The nosy part of him wanted to pry, to dig a little more, but his eyes flicked back to the window again, where Derek and all four of his siblings were doing a terrible job at acting like they weren't trying to stare him down.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure he’ll tell me when he’s ready.”

Apparently, that was the right answer—Nana’s face softened again as she smiled, nodding her head, beckoning Stiles into standing up. She put her hand in the crook of his elbow easily, steering them back toward the house in a way that allowed no room for compromise.

“You are going to be good for my Der-bear, I know it.”

“Oh, I mean, I hope so. Derek deserves that, and I definitely—“

“Just let him be good for you, too.”

She reached up and patted Stiles cheek as he stared at her, dumbfounded, automatically opening the door for her as she walked back into the house. His expression was mirrored in the matching expressions of slack-jawed shock from all five Hale siblings, all staring at Stiles as Nana started in on another family story that would be sure to embarrass Mark, or Laura, or anyone who wasn’t Derek.

He meant what he said, of course. Derek deserved someone who would be good for him.

Somehow, that was the problem here.

—————

“Stiles, you reek of nerves. All I can smell is nerves and bell peppers. It’s not a good smell. Are you going to tell me what you’re freaking out about, or what?”

Stiles jolted as Derek called him out so effortlessly, pulled out of the trance he had fallen into as he watched Derek work, pushing around some of the barbecue from the night prior with some fresh chopped veggies into a delightful spur of the moment stir fry.

Derek was also as dressed down as Stiles had ever seen him, in a light grey henley and a dark pair of jeans, and that was even more delightful than the stir fry.

“Wait, you—that’s just something you can do? Oh god, your entire family must have known how nervous I was yesterday, did they—“

“Stiles. Breathe.”

Right. Breathing. He could do that.

…. maybe.

The truth was, Stiles could honestly say that he was having a great time back in Beacon Hills.

Derek and his family were great, no lie, and fake relationship aside, the researcher in him was absolutely thriving seeing how a huge, well-established pack worked with one another. They were literally a well oiled machine, the personification of the old ‘it takes a village’ metaphor, and the only thing that amazed Stiles more than how well they worked together was how well they adapted to Stiles being there.

Of course, he thought a big part of that came from having the Alphas on his side—not just Derek, but Nana too.

(“I can’t believe she hugged you,” Laura had hissed after yet another glass of infused punch. “When she met my last boyfriend, she threw him off the porch.”

“Well, Stiles is a fragile little human,” Taylor had snorted, ignoring the way Stiles smacked his arm, “and Hank was a major, prolapsed asshole.”

“Well yeah, but that’s not the point!”)

As great as Derek and his family was though, getting to come home and surprise his dad early… well, there was no place on the planet he would rather be than wrapped in a signature Stilinski hug, the kind of hug where you held on just a little longer than you needed to so you can pretend you definitely weren’t crying.

He got to watch a game with his dad, he got to sleep in his old, lumpy-ass childhood bed, he got to make breakfast in his mom’s kitchen.

So yeah. Great time.

Or at least, it had been, until a text rolled through after he kissed his dad goodbye that morning.

der-bear: Do you want to come over for lunch? Nana has everyone out of the house, Mom and Uncle Peter showed up this morning and he’s already driving everyone crazy.

sent: sure man. want me to bring anything? :)

der-bear: Don’t worry about it. Besides, I figure we should talk before the bonfire anyway.

And just like that, something brought around a cloud to rain on Stiles’ parade.

“Is it about tonight?” Derek asked, and if Stiles’ hadn’t been so laser focused on his cooking technique (his arms, okay, he was staring at Derek’s arms) he probably would have missed the way Derek hesitated when he asked, like he was afraid of the answer.

He picked himself up off of the barstool at the island in their gigantic kitchen, leaning against the counter closer to Derek, reaching in to pluck a chunk of onion out of the pan, skillfully avoiding the swat from Derek’s wooden spoon. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you… You know we’re looking forward to having you with us, right?” Derek asked, spooning some of the food onto two separate plates, using his claws to rip two fresh chunks of bread off of a loaf. “But if you don’t… I mean, I just don’t want you to feel like you have to be there if you don’t want to.”

Stiles frowned as he accepted one of the plates, pulling the smaller chunk of bread off of one of Derek’s claws, mulling his next words over. “As long as you want me there I’ll be there,” Stiles said slowly, because there really was no way to politely say that Stiles would rather throw himself into the sun before his mythical lore studying ass missed out on observing pack activity on a blue moon.

“Why would you think I didn’t want you there?” Derek asked, looking like he was offended at the very notion, sliding a fork to Stiles as he sat down at the countertop, that offended look only growing as Stiles snorted.

“I dunno, I thought you might have changed your mind about it. Dude, you sent me a ‘we should talk’ text. I’m no expert, but I know that nothing good follows a ‘we should talk’ text,” Stiles said around a mouth full of bread, but any degree of playful levity he had gone for was sapped out of his voice the moment he saw Derek look back down at his plate.

“That, uh. I do think we should talk, but not about that. Stiles, I...”

Ah, fuck. Derek’s ears were pink again, and for once, Stiles thought that was a bad thing.

Stiles did his best not to panic as he thought through things, wondering what he had fucked up, because he just knew he had fucked up a little something. Maybe he had come on a little too strong last night, maybe he had gotten too comfortable with his crush, maybe—

“I was thinking that maybe… we shouldn’t be faking this anymore.”

—or maybe, he had fucked up a whole lot of everything.

Stiles felt his heart sink through his shoes as he swallowed his bread, his appetite suddenly gone. He brushed his hands on his jeans, giving a few short nods, swallowing again as he pushed back from the table a little bit. He thought for a moment that he should argue against it, but Derek had a sad puppy expression splashed across his face, and Stiles wasn’t strong against that on a good day.

“Oh.”

He could feel Derek’s eyes tracking him as he started to move, standing up and starting an easy track around the kitchen, flexing his fingers before he rubbed his palm with his thumbs, an old habit he had thought he had kicked back when he graduated from Berkeley.

“I think, uh, maybe you should wait until you’re back in New York to tell your family?” Stiles started, missing the tiny smile on Derek’s face before it melted into a look of confusion. “You should tell them I broke up with you, not the other way around, I don’t mind being the bad guy,” he added, staring down at his hands.

“Wait, Stiles—“

“No, seriously, it’s fine,” Stiles interrupted, putting a smile back on his face, because he knew this was going to be coming at some point. Derek had made up their entire relationship, and Stiles had worked hard to remember that the reality of it was… that it wasn’t reality. He was the one with the inconvenient crush, he was the one who had gotten stupid. This was all on him, and taking the high road to bow out gracefully would be too.

Or, at least, it should have been. But Derek had abandoned his seat as well, halfway following Stiles in his trail around the kitchen, putting his arm out against a countertop to stop Stiles at a turn.

“I said I wanted to stop faking, Stiles.”

Hell, when had Derek gotten so close to him? Stiles blinked as he backed up against the counter, Derek’s arms closing him in, and suddenly he was getting an up close and personal look at Derek’s lips, and his eyes, and the way the blush was going back up his ears, and—

...why was Derek blushing?

“I never said anything about wanting you to leave.”

But why would Stiles be staying if… oh. Oh.

Realization dawned on Stiles’ face as Derek blushed and looked down, moving his hands a little bit closer against the counter, and Stiles felt a shiver run down his spine as he felt Derek’s thumb settle right along his hip. He had to clear his throat before he could speak, swallowing down the hope that was threatening to bubble over, chewing on his lip as he put one hand on Derek’s chest, the other gently tipping his head back to look him in the eye.

“Dude, if you’re saying what I think you’re saying, you gotta spell it out, I’ve had a crush on you for like forever and if I’m mis-reading this—”

“I told you. I’m your boyfriend, don’t call me dude.”

Stiles laughed again, elation making him feel light and giddy, finally breaking eye contact with Derek as he felt his own blush burn through the back of his neck.

“Stay, Stiles. You belong here. With me.”

Rather than even try to form a coherent response, Stiles dropped one of his hands, cheeks still a ruddy color as he looped a finger into one of the belt loops on Derek’s designer jeans, pulling him just that much closer.

“Derek?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Oh, thank God—"

—————

Yeah, Stiles thought hours later, still feeling the warmth of Derek’s smile against his lips as howls sounded off around the Hale House, moonlight swirling around him from the vantage point he had on the porch.

This was exactly where he belonged.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #hale family #teen wolf fic #fake dating #everyone lives #two halves of a whole idiot #this is actually my first sterek fic ever lmao HOW WILD

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seerofmike · 3 years

Text

The Writing In Apex Kinda Sucks And Also They Use Ship Bait As A Plot Device I Hate It Here

a stupid essay/rant encouraged by @zombiegloss that originally started as a youtube video script so if its like. weird at points. this was intended to be a verbal rant SNZISKSIA

basically i'm gonna talk abt the caustic-wattson-crypto relationship drama and how i think it was mishandled and how much the writers kind of Suck because i Can

you are free to disagree with me on any of my points and think that this aspect of the story was handled well, this is just my opinion, and i'd love to hear your thoughts and counterpoints !

first, addressing some things:

i know this is a battle royale and not necessarily a story-based game, so i can’t expect it to have masterful witcher-style writing.

but with the direction the game seems to be going; putting quests, evolving interactions, and comics in the game, plus coming out with a lore book and hinting at something bigger in the future, i think it’s fair to criticize it for lackluster writing, especially since what i’m criticizing has been something present since Apex’s story technically began.

secondly, i am not a professional writer. i’m a high schooler who writes as a hobby. i don’t have the decades of experience that some of the apex writers do, and i can’t claim to be a better writer than they are--but i also don’t have to be a five-star chef to realize that something tastes bad. when i critique something and give suggestions, i am not saying i could’ve done it better. i’m just bringing up what i think could have worked.

third, before i upset anyone , when i say a relationship is badly written, i’m not telling you that you can’t ship it or that your ship sucks. i’ll briefly touch on the shipping aspect of this and how it’s a detriment to the story but Ye

okay, so with that out of the way, let us Begin

relationships are often the emotional core of a story, and how strong your reaction is to conflict in these relationships depends on how the story sets them up. if you want the audience to care about these characters and what they go through, you need to develop them and establish the type of relationship they have well. it’s why so many people cried in the last episode of telltale’s the walking dead. you’ve spent roughly 12 hours bonding with clementine and protecting her, and your relationship with her is part of several story beats as well as character beats for lee.

when these two characters’ relationship reaches its peak at the end of the game, it’s powerful, and it’s emotional. you care. you feel something, and the fact that you have to choose what to do to lee only makes it more gut-wrenching.

now, the walking dead is entirely story-based and especially character-driven, so it may be unfair to compare it to apex, but i just wanted to lay the groundwork down for what i think is a strong relationship that makes you feel something when conflict arrives, in this case the conflict being lee getting bit and clementine having to decide his fate.

the broken ghost in general is kind of not-good sometimes, tom casiello previously wrote for soap operas and you can really, REALLY tell sometimes.

this story feels like it should’ve taken place a little later, and that we should’ve had a season to actually set up the characters and their relationships, but that’s a story for another day.

to put it bluntly, the set-up for the crypto, wattson, and caustic conflict is done poorly. for caustic and wattson's relationship it’s a little better, but not by much.

wattson and caustic having a relationship was hinted at in season 2, when her lore indicated that caustic was among one of the Legends who comforted her after her father died. In season four lore materials posted on Twitter, an email from Jacob Young states that Caustic is acting paternal towards Wattson. In season five, interactions get added to the Game, and this is the first time we actually see their relationship in action, as they have unique revive voice lines for each other. in the quests, when wattson is injured, caustic lashes out at loba and attacks her out of what seems to be anger at wattson’s current state.

Side Note this plot point was really stupid and done for cheap drama because she literally wakes up like two chapters later and they don’t even give her anything to say it’s just suddenly oh yeah crypto and wattson are working together. the same exact injury thing happens to octane later but nobody gIVES A SHIT because again, it’s just cheap soap opera drama.

their relationship might seem a little bit sudden for anyone who wasn’t on top of twitter lore drops, but like, it’s okay, i guess. i’ll give it the slightest credit for at least establishing something between the two in terms of voice lines and stuff, even if for some it might seem like it came out of nowhere.

what did come out of nowhere, though, was crypto and wattson’s friendship. in the quests, crypto and wattson are tasked with rebuilding the broken ghost because of their respective skills, and they’re seen talking in chapter six while they work on it. we’re not really given a clear timeline on how long the story in the broken ghost is, but i think it takes about a week, maybe.

unlike wattson and caustic, their relationship has been given absolutely zero material to work with before now, not even a passing glance in the trailers--which is a little weird considering crypto took down the repulsor tower and destroyed wattson’s home, but. Whatever.

tl dr of the chapter: crypto and wattson talk to each other while doing nerd shit, crypto laughs at wattson’s bad pun, and then suddenly they’re BESTIEEEES, until a couple dozen lines later in the same chapter. then they’re Not.

crypto’s drone gets hacked by revenant while everyone was kind of on edge after the reveal of a spy in their midst, he gets framed as the spy by caustic, anddddd wattson gets upset.

before i get into how dumb this storyline is, i’m gonna talk about the set-up to this conflict.

we have been given no reason to believe that these characters have ever talked to each other, and quite frankly, their friendship doesn’t really make sense.

ignoring the fact that crypto destroyed wattson’s home--which she probably doesn’t know about, so that’s forgiven for now--crypto is a paranoid guy. in the lore book he makes people stand on fucking footprints in his house so he can scan them for weapons and listening devices, and he apparently doesn’t stick around much after the games and nobody knows anything about him because he doesn’t talk to them.

a key part of crypto’s story is the fact that he is undercover and afraid of anyone finding out anything about him ever. him becoming friends with wattson kind of comes out of the blue, and we’re not even given a reason as to why they supposedly became close in the first place. i would kind of understand if like, maybe he draws parallels with her and mila in his mind and it makes him open up a little more, but that doesn’t happen. he just laughs at her joke and suddenly they’re friends.

maybe they’re trying to go for this ‘wattson can become friends with anybody’ angle, kind of hinted at with caustic but not really we’ll get into that, but that also? kind of doesn’t make sense since so many of her voice lines straight-up say she doesn’t understand people and electricity is more her thing, but honestly, she also does have those really friendly elements in her voice lines too, so its not as egregious as what they did with crypto.

their sudden out-of-the-blue friendship would’ve been fine if they spent a little more time fleshing it out, and giving us something to work with, but instead, the story immediately tries to rip it apart and frame it as this grand conflict where crypto is framed as the mole, crypto then accuses caustic, and wattson feels betrayed.

except it doesn’t really work, because we don’t give a shit. for several reasons.

one: crypto and wattson became friends and then ended their friendship in the same exact chapter. they did not speak to each other onscreen until this chapter began, you can read the entire quest on the wiki and see for yourself that their interactions up until that point were nonexistent aside from mentions in the narration that they were building something together.

the reason wattson feels betrayed is kind of stupid too. why does she really care that much if one of them betrayed loba? nobody else really cared about the fact that one of them was a spy, in fact, nobody even seems to like loba that much, and they just found out that loba’s been lying to them this whole time, and wattson was conscious for that conversation and had a speaking line, so she’s fully aware of the situation.

maybe it’s just like, the idea that one of them lied, but that’s still kind of a weak reason.

this entire betrayal thing is just dumb, and it gets even worse when you realize that there could have been an actual legitimate reason for wattson to feel betrayed by crypto--even if it still would’ve come across as weak conflict because of their newly established friendship, it would’ve made more sense than this.

Crypto destroyed Wattson’s home. He took down the tower and then all the flyers and stuff invaded Kings Canyon and made it their bitch. Not only that, but Wattson considers the Syndicate her family. The Syndicate are the very people who framed Crypto for murder and he’s trying to take them down.

They could’ve set up actual conflict with these things, and it almost seemed like they would, because Caustic briefly brings up that Crypto could be working with Revenant because he has something against the Syndicate but then that doesn’t really go anywhere and we’re just back to Wattson feeling betrayed because either Crypto or Caustic was a spy and she doesn’t know who.

Weak conflict could’ve been made better by a strong relationship and a weak relationship could’ve still been interesting with strong conflict, but both the relationship between Crypto and Wattson and the conflict that drives them splitting up as friends were really weak and didn’t make much sense.

It would’ve been ten times more interesting if Wattson found out Crypto ruined her home, the arena she grew up in, and was now participating in the Games to take out the people she regards as her family. That’s where her distrust could’ve manifested and conflict could’ve began, but instead it was the stupid betraying loba thing. why do you care. you just started talking to this guy like 2 hours ago.

also caustic’s whole reason for framing crypto feels stupid as fuck. he didn’t just frame crypto randomly, he framed him specifically because he doesn't want him to influence wattsob because he likes her Big Brain, but this is the FIRST time we have seen those two interact.

what influence is he talking about? wraith and wattson have been shown to be friendly with each other in the trailers, according to tom’s tweets, and in the story too so why doesn’t he frame her? at this point the audience had slightly more build-up for those two’s relationship than crypto and wattson and a betrayal storyline would’ve felt a little more deserved if still weak.

this is the point where i briefly want to touch upon shipping, and the fact that part of this conflict feels driven by shipbait.

aside from their relationship coming out of nowhere and the writers trying to make the stakes seem high and deeply emotional to the characters involved (despite this essentially being the first time they’ve ever interacted) tom casiello literally addresses shippers in a tweet regarding chapter seven, and as the story between these characters progresses, it becomes clear to me, at least that the crypto-wattson thing is just bait for shippers, and it’s lazy.

it’s easy to get away with giving your characters little to no relationship development if you’re just counting on shippers to do the heavy mental lifting for you

why should i put any effort into making this relationship seem believable? people are going to see a young guy and a young girl having bare minimum interaction and assume there’s romantic interest! then i don’t have to do any work, see look, it’s a ready-made relationship wrapped in a bow for me! all that’s left for me to do is give them conflict so i can keep teasing shippers with lines like ‘you never deserved her’!

i think it’s reasonable for me to suspect shipbait, since tom casiello likes doing darksparks shipbait on twitter, and i’m like, eighty percent sure mirage and bloodhound suddenly being childhood friends in the book is shipbait too, because these characters were the number one ship in apex for a long time despite little to no interaction, and then all of a sudden in the lore book they’re childhood friends despite this literally never being mentioned before?

like bloodhound is set up to be mysterious and nobody knows what they look like, or where they’re from, or who their family is--except for mirage Apparently, who played with them when he was a kid on their home planet, and has seen them with their mask off, because bloodhound did not wear a mask when their parents were still alive.

its weird.

i’m pretty sure they’ve said somewhere they were working on this book before apex even came out, so i could just be completely wrong and they always planned for mirage and bloodhound to know each other, but if that’s the case, why did they never mention it like they did octane and lifeline?

i refuse to believe MIRAGE never brought it up either like ‘heeeeyy bloodhound remember when we used to throw eggs at our parents lab haha wanna go do to that to bangalore’s room’

[silence]

‘good talk buddy’

ANYWAYS I GOT OFF TOPIC. POINT IS, shipping is a detriment to the story because the writers don’t feel like they actually have to put any work into establishing or developing the relationship between characters when they know the community’s just going to do it for them anyways, and that they can put in shipbait and it’s fine and it makes sense when it really doesn’t.

imagine watching captain america civil war after not seeing a single other marvel movie.

why would you care about the avengers splitting up or tony and steve butting heads or steve’s commitment to bucky? you wouldn’t care, at least not as much as someone who’s seen all the movies and knows the relationship between the characters and why the sokovia accords exist in the first place. you don’t have context and you don’t have any reason to be emotionally invested in these characters’ relationship.

this feels like that. the writers tried to squeeze this relationship and stuff into a single chapter and we don’t fucking care unless we were already invested in the idea of their relationship (shippers) because we barely spent any time with it.

so to summarize this little section, the set-up of this storyline Kinda Sucks! crypto and wattson barely seem to know each other, because we the audience barely saw them together and the writers are relying on shipbait in place of a relationship.

wattson and caustic are a little better but not great, but the conflict is stupid and it only gets stupider.

moving onto summarizing the rest of the broken ghost, gibraltar and caustic talk, caustic LITERALLY confesses to being the mole and says he framed crypto so he couldn’t corrupt wattson and to appear innocent because his identity was suspected, then that wraps up the season storyline.

season six begins with new voice lines, where wattson has had enough of crypto and caustic’s shit and is all passive-aggressive and going ‘this doesn’t change anything’. she has to decide who to trust, and how to figure out The Truth for herself because she’s not a little girl anymore. crypto and caustic are both trying to convince her they’re innocent and it creates some interesting conflict.

just kidding. it’s terrible conflict. you want to know why?

BECAUSE GIBRALTAR TRIED TO TELL HER THE TRUTH, RIGHT AFTER THE SEASON 5 QUEST HAPPENED, AND SHE LITERALLY REFUSED TO HEAR IT.

LIKE THERE’S A SEASON 6 LOADING SCREEN WHERE HE’S TELLING EVERYONE THE TRUTH ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED, AND WHEN HE GETS TO WATTSON AND IS LIKE HEY I KNOW WHO THE MOLE WAS AND WHY THEY DID IT, SHE JUST GOES i dont wanna hear it. i need to think

IF YOU WANT THE TRUTH WHY ARE YOU REFUSING TO HEAR IT

SHE SPENDS ALMOST TWO ENTIRE SEASONS MAD AT CRYPTO FOR SOMETHING HE DIDN’T DO BECAUSE SHE TOLD GIBRALTAR TO FUCK OFF WHEN HE TRIED TO TELL HER WHAT HAPPENED

ITS SO DUMB

i think it was towards the end of season 6 or the beginning of season 7 where apex posted this picture of wattson asleep at her desk where she has a letter from gibraltar on it that looks like it tells her the truth, so she knows now, she knows what happened, but NOW her issue is the fact that she doesn’t know anything about crypto.

WHAT THE FUCK. WHAT IS YOUR GODDAMN DAMAGE. YOU DON’T KNOW SHIT ABOUT BLOODHOUND EITHER ARE YOU THIS UPSET WITH BLOODHOUND TOO?? HAVE YOU EVER TALKED TO PATHFINDER. DO YOU HATE PATHFINDER TOO

oh but she was friends with crypto and now she’s mad that he lied to her EXCEPT THEIR RELATIONSHIP WASN’T BUILT UP WELL SO IT JUST FEELS STUPID. THEY SPENT LONGER BEING NOT-FRIENDS THAN THEY SPENT BEING FRIENDS. THEY BECAME FRIENDS IN ONE CHAPTER AND THEN IMMEDIATELY AT THE END OF THAT CHAPTER THEIR FRIENDSHIP ENDED AND THEN WATTSON SPENT LIKE 2 SEASONS MAD AT HIM FOR SOMETHING HE DIDN’T DO .

AND THE WRITERS TRIED TO RECTIFY THIS BY SAYING OH SHE’S NOT MAD ABOUT THE TRAITOR THING SHE’S MAD BECAUSE SHE DOESN’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT HIM AND IT’S LIKE WHY THE FUCK DID YOU NOT MAKE THAT CLEAR WHY DOES SHE SAY ‘IT DOESN’T CHANGE WHAT YOU DID’ IN HER VOICE LINES WHY DOES SHE CALL HIM A TRAITOR IF HER CONFLICT WAS HER NOT KNOWING MUCH ABOUT HIM . WHAT DID HE DO.

HE JUST STOOD THERE AND LAUGHED AT HER JOKE AND THEN HE GOT FRAMED AND THEN THAT WAS THE END OF THE CHAPTER AND NOW SHES SUDDENLY LIKE IM ACTUALLY MAD BECAUSE YOURE A LIAR AND I CANT TRUST YOU EVEN THOUGH I NOW KNOW YOU WERE FRAMED I STILL DO NOT LIKE YOU AND HES LIKE YEAH THATS MY FAULT

The Caustic voicelines are stupid too, again his reason for framing Crypto was stupid and a lot of his voicelines just seem to be that shipbait thing again but like from the angle of overprotective dad who doesn’t like the new boyfriend. it’s stupid but not as egeregious as this next part which is

crypto telling wattson his identity.

CRYPTO was framed for MURDER and is paranoid and can’t trust anyone and doesn’t talk to anyone and the last time he did talk to someone he got framed for Another thing and the person he was talking to turned her back on him and actively refused to know the truth for like 2 seasons and then he went This Is Fine I Can Tell Her My Identity

the stupidest update to this storyline was crypto telling wattson the truth

why did they do it on the dropship where there are presumably syndicate members and other legends around.

why didn’t he scan wattson for listening devices like he did for pathfinder in the book.

why is he telling her his identity when he knows she has very close ties to the people that FRAMED HIM for MURDER. Does he trust her that much? WHY? They spoke to each other in a chapter and then spent two seasons not talking to each other beyond passive-aggressive BS. why are you so fucking stupid taejoon

their relationship was so poorly set-up that even if the writers maybe intended for them to come across as close friends who had spent weeks bonding, it really feels like they became friends in a single conversation, had a falling out, and now crypto suddenly trusts her with his identity after an undetermined amount of time because he wants to be friends again.

that does not make SENSE this conflict feels contrived AS FUCK and the resolution feels even worse and unearned UGGGHHHH

it honestly comes across as crypto feeling desperate for friendship, and maybe this would’ve worked better if that’s the angle they played it as.

he’s been alone for roughly two years, and just wants a friend, and he’s honestly so lonely he just breaks down to the first person who’s really talked to him. it could’ve been an interesting little part of his character, and they could've gone into depth about how much this situation has affected him, but that’s not what they’re doing. he’s still paranoid and anxious and doesn’t trust anyone, except for wattson, because the plot needs him to or else there won’t be any stupid soap opera drama.

and to rub salt in the wound, wattson’s new voice lines with caustic have him telling her that she forgave crypto.

WHAT ARE YOU FORGIVING HIM FOR. ARE YOU FORGIVING HIM FOR BEING FRAMED? WHY DID HE HAVE TO APOLOGIZE TO YOU WHEN YOU WERE THE ONE WHO REFUSED TO HEAR THE TRUTH?

did the conversation just go hey my real name is taejoon park and something bad happened to me and she went aight i forgive you WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT

Caustic’s new voice lines to Crypto where he’s like ‘what did you tell her’--YOU TOLD GIBRALTAR STRAIGHT-UP YOUR EVIL MASTER PLAN LIKE A SUPERVILLAIN AND NOW YOU’RE SURPRISED WATTSON AND CRYPTO ARE ON GOOD TERMS NOW?!

THAT’S LIKE TELLING SOMEONE YOUR SOCIAL SECURITY NUMBER AND THEN BEING SURPRISED WHEN YOU BECOME THE VICTIM OF IDENTITY FRAUD. YOU SET YOURSELF UP FOR THIS WHY ARE YOU ACTING LIKE CRYPTO DID SOMETHING SINISTER OR LIED OR WHATEVER. WHAT THE FUCK. WHY DO YOU HAVE LIKE 3 BRAINCELLS

this is at like ten pages already so i’m going to just try and wrap this up quickly.

it’s frustrating seeing this storyline play out when there are actually good relationships and storylines written into apex. i’m kind of getting tired of the loba and revenant conflict, but we at least had set-up to it in the form of a few animated shorts and it doesn’t play out as stupidly as this story does. bangalore and loba’s friendship is actually developed well, even if the point between the end of season 5 and season 6 where they suddenly talk like each other feels like it could’ve used a little more.

where crypto and wattson having an established friendship in the broken ghost failed, lifeline and octane’s established friendship works because we’ve been told since octane’s release they were childhood friends and given lore materials that indicate they’ve known each other for a very long time.

apex wants this storyline between crypto and wattson and caustic to feel dramatic and tense and ultimately rewarding when crypto and wattson did become friends for real and stuff, but instead it just comes across as hollow and empty.

there’s nothing there. it’s a case of tell, don’t show, and it looks like this stupid conflict is gonna keep going for another couple of seasons at this rate.

side note: this entire script was written before the new twitter comics

please tell me ur thoughts and feel free to respond with ur own lil essay

also believe it or not this is not the "shipping is a detriment to apex's story" essay i was gonna write this is a completely different essay that has some overlap SKXISOSOW

#apex legends #apex critical #crypto #wattson

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “Man’s Best Friend.”

Try not to bee too mad at me guys :) Sorry about the angst.

It is a more than well known anomaly that humans will social bond with any species. This is not barring their danger levels, or factors of perceived cuteness; no matter the cost, humans will pack bond with any animal. They have even been known to bond with inanimate objects and houseplants. However, one of the greatest bonds man has ever created, is their bond with dogs. Thousands of years ago a man shared his food and his fire with a wolf: another social pack species. After years and years of careful breeding selection manipulated by humans, they ‘created’ an animal that protects loyally, forgives quickly, and loves unconditionally.

In my study of humans, I have found that the emotional bond with a dog can run deeper than an emotional bond with humans. I am not entirely sure why a human would find it more displeasing to watch a movie where a dog dies than to watch a movie where a human dies, but I have some suspicion that it has to do with the innocence and unconditional friendship that dog has given man, a quality that man has never given himself.

***

Waffles: a 75lb 34kilo german shepherd shoved her head into an alien bush nose working furiously as she pawed through the strange purple plant. She came back up a moment later and sneezed violently sending up a cloud of delicate yellow polin.

Admiral Vir laughed and whistled, and turning on her heel she bounded back to him over open ground her ears straight up, her tail wagging furiously. She ran up to him and touched her nose to his hand as if tagging base before bounding off again to sniff the path before them.

Krill and Sunny walked with him, Krill staring at the brightly colored alien landscape with buzzing antenna.

Waffles leaped through another patch of wild blue grass sending up more white spores into the air, stopping only to sneeze again before continuing.

Sunny went up to walk beside the Admiral, “She looks happy.”

Adam nodded, “Yeah, I like bringing her down on occasion to get some fresh air. I know she does pretty well on the ship, but I feel bad keeping her cooped up so much.”

With another bound Waffles plowed through a shallow stream sending up droplets of water.

This planet was one the GA had been studying for some time, and, as it seemed, it was a relatively nice, habitable planet that they were readying for colonization for the Finnari, or perhaps, humans, or even both permitting everything went well.

Krill watched the dog as she plowed through the grass, rolling in the weeds like she was having the time of her life.

Predators used to scare him, but the dog had proven herself to be docile at the Admiral’s command, and he could at least tolerate her if not like her…. Just a little.

Adam Grinned at his dog’s antics and charged into the grass after her.

The dog dropped her front paws, but and tail sticking up in the air, a nonverbal invitation for her master to play with her. He didn’t reject her offer and raced forward to play chasing her around the field, their legs swishing over the grass. She barked happily as they did.

Adam had now ran far ahead of the others towards another nearby forest path. Waffles was behind him just a little ways as he pulled to a halt panting.

It was then that he heard it, a sudden rustling of foliage turning into a swirling thunder of air.

He turned on the spot eyes wide in shock and surprise.

Surprise at the ravening beast charging directly towards him, its purple fur and white tusks glittering in the sun. he leapt out of the way, but the beast was quick, about waist height and angry. He was so startled he couldn't even scream his only reaction to try to kick at the creature and keep it back.

It squared off against him, and he tried backing away, but it charged again.

There was a sudden snarling noise, and waffles charged into the fight snarling and snapping.

She bit the creature hard on it’s back leg.

“WAFFLES!” Adam shouted

The creature turned violently and whipped it’s tusks at waffles, who didn’t heed them as she charged in again, snapping at its face and throat forcing herself between Adam and his attacker.

It thrashed and she yelped in pain, but charged forward again, grabbing it by the leg and holding on for dear life as it trampled into the bush dragging her along with it.

Another yelp came from the forest, high pitched and painful.

“WAFFLES!” It didn’t take a moment before Adam was chagrin into the bush after them pulling his sidearm as he did. He followed the sound just in time to see the creature whip it’s head around and catch waffles hard in the side picking her up and tossing her to the ground. Blood drenched her fur, while green icor drenched her muzzle.

He screamed in anger instead of fear this time as he leveled his sidearm and emptied his magazine at the creature. He wasn’t sure how many hit, but the creature was tough enough that it staggered off itne bush yowling. He ignored it for the time and ran, throwing himself to his knees at the side of waffles, who was lying on the ground breathing shallowly.

Sunny roared into the clearing just behind them, her spear raised, but the creature was already gone.

Adam reached out his hands which were trembling so badly he could barely function, “Waffles, waffles no no no no.”

He rested a hand on her side and she whimpered in pain, her muzzle resting on the ground her eyes half hooded.

A choked sob broke from his throat, “No. no…. You’re g-gonna be o-ok.”

His hands fluttered uselessly over her body, covered in blood.

“KRILL! PLEASE Someone… h-help.”

Sunny stood back in shock and fear as Adam clawed at his hair, tears rolling down his face in uncontrolled streams.

Krill scuttled in not far after.

Adam turned to look at him his face twisted into a snarl, “Help her!” His voice cracked on demand and he turned back hands still shaking not knowing what to do. Being a doctor krill was well aware that the human’s anger was displaced and did not take it personally as he moved forward and took a look at the injured animal.

He lifted her front paw, and she whimpered piteously.

Off to the side Adam was still inconsolable, his hands in his hair threatening to rip out fistfulls with his clutching fingers. His agitations was actually getting in the way of Krill working.

“Adam, Adam just hold her head ok, help her stay calm.”

He nodded following orders stiffly, crawling over the ground to sit her head in his lap and tell her she was such a good girl and that she was going to be ok. Streams of continual tears rolled down his cheeks and onto her fur. Waffles licked his hand lethargically.

Sunny knelt next to him, hand on his shaking shoulder powerless as for what to do.

She had never seen him like this, ever.

Not that Adam was one to conceal his emotions completely, but he generally subscribed to silent tears if there were any at all. This, this was different, no holds barred uncontrollably sobbing, the kind where the human loses all functioning, eyes, nose, mouth and racking sobs that shook the body in aggressive, violent spasms.

Krill rolled waffles a little further onto her side spotting a deep gash from her chest and abdomen. He couldn't tell how deep it was, and didn’t want to look in this sort of environment.

“Sunny, call the shuttle!”

The urgency in his voice only served to secure Adam’s worst fears, “No… no, ou’re going to be o.”

“Adam, give me your jacket.”

He did without hesitation, ripping it off his body and offering it to krill as if it was the thing that was going to save her life.

Krill got Adam to help lift her onto the jacket and wrap her up, while he used some thing from his medical kit to staunch the bleeding. Waffles was still conscious, through her eyes were half lidded.

“Please be ok.” Adam begged, and despite all her injuries, her tail thudded against the ground at the sound of his voice and the touch of his hand. This only started his tears flowing even harder.

Overhead the sound of engines whirred, and touched down on the grass not far away.

“Ok, lift her gently.”

He did as ordered hugging her to his chest and practically racing towards the shuttle as it descended.

When the doors opened he practically bowled past the waiting marine who looked on in shock.

He gently lay Waffles on one of the seats all but yellin at one of the marines to make sure she stayed there before racing to the ront of the craft.

“Admiral are you sure…” The copilot began.

“Get out o my fucking way!” he snarled, and the ire in his voice was so that the man quickly leaped from his seat as Adam slid into the pilot’s seat. Krill was worried that the human was going to kill them all trying to pilot in that state, but what he witnessed next was a feat of pure talent and skill as he maneuvered them up through the clouds faster and steadier than krill would have thought possible.

Waffles whimpered softly in the background, held tight in Sunny’s arms now.

Their copilot sent out a medial call as soon as was feasible and very prudent.

By the time they made it inside, a crew was waiting with a stretcher.

Didn’t matter that it was waffles, but they treated her as they might any human with krill tagging long beside.

Adam ran after them until the doors to the med bay shut in his face and he was told to stay outside.

***

Sunny made her way quietly down the hall footsteps no more than a whisper over the metal floor. It was dark on the ship, the lights having been dimmed for the night. Up ahead she could see light filtering out into the hallway, and the rim lighting of a figure sitting in the dark.

She moved forward, and the mass of shadow coalesced from the darkness. Adam sat on the floor, knees pulled to his chest, head in his hands. Three pairs of bright yellow eyes looked up at her from the darkness. And Sunny tilted her head in surprise to see three Finnari curled up around Adam. One leaned against his left side, one leaned against his right side, and one rested against his legs.

The others raised their heads, though Adam remained curled up with his head in his hands.

Sunny nodded to them, “I can take it from here.” She said quietly

The Finnari looked between each other and then waddled to their feet. One of them patted Adam’s hair before joining the group and waddling off down the hall. Sunny knelt and then slowly sat next to Adam resting a hand on his back.They sat in the dark in silence for a long while before he looked up at her.

His cheeks were still wet, and she had no idea how he was still producing any, sure he would have dehydrated hours ago.

In response, she pulled the human closer using all four of her arms until he was curled up against her head resting against her chest.

“I….I can’t l-lose her s-sunny…. I I don’t know what I-I’d do.”

She rubbed his back gently with one of her lower hands, feeling as his body continued to spasm rhythmically with the beat of his grief. He covered his eyes with his right hand turning into her chest as if trying to hide his face. His teeth were gritted against quiet sobs.

But despite his attempts to stay quiet, he couldn’t.

It killed Sunny to watch.

He was completely debilitated. She had seen a human like this maybe once before under different circumstances. Neither war, nor kidnapping, or injury in the time she had known him had ever brought this man to his knees, and if it had it had been silently and alone where he dealt with it himself.

This was different.

He had snapped, broken right in half.

It surprised her almost how fragile humans were, after everything he could have gone through, and after everything he did, this is what hurt him.

His grief came in waves, one moment she thought he had finally calmed down, and then the next moment he was escalating again just as bad as before. It was exhausting to watch, and she had no idea what to do other than keep him company in the dimness of the hallway.

They were there for hours.

And then the door hissed open.

Adam shot to his feet as krill stepped out into the hall.

His hair was disheveled -- even more so than usual-- his face was red and puffy, his eyes were ringed in bright red. The collar of his shirt was damp.

Sunny rose to her feat as well.

“Is she-” he couldn't finish, choking up again.

“She’s alright, we were just waiting for her to wake up to make sure. But she’s going to be ok.”

This time the sound he made was a sob of relief rather than grief, “Can I see her?”

Krill paused but then nodded, motioning him back. He hurried after into the med bay.

At the end of the room, waffles lay curled up on one of the beds.

She was wrapped in bandages and an IV was held into her right front leg with pink gauze. Someone had managed to fashion a makeshift cone out of plastic shielding.

Adam rushed over.

Waffles blinked slowly at him, too tired to lift her head, but her tail began to whap happily against the covers of the bed. He smiled rubbing his hands through the soft fur of her face and ears, “Good girl…. You’re such a good girl.” tears were leaking down his face again, but he was smiling.

With great effort, waffles lifted her head, licking at his face with her long pink tongue, whipping the tears from his face the only way she knew how.

Krill walked over and paused by them, “She should be up and about by tomorrow, but she definitely needs to rest and recover.”

Adam looked up at Krill, “Can I stay here…. With her?”

Krill looked at him unsure, but the look on the human’s face was one the little alien certainly couldn't say no to , and he sighed, “Alright, you can stay.”

When Sunny left the room Adam was curled up on the bed with the dog resting with her back to his chest, the two of them fast asleep.

Thank the spirits Waffles was ok.

***

Ask a human, the vast majority of them find the sadness of grief or pain of a dog to be more poignant than that of a human -- unless the human is one they know--. This is why movies often employ dogs for emotional factors. Perhaps you cannot get an audience to cry for the pain of a human, but if you get a dog to wait at its owner's owners grave than you can have an entire audience in tears. As I said earlier. It's hard to watch the pain of someone who doesn't deserve that pain and never will.

Dogs are a reflection of the best parts of man

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hermannsthumb · 3 years

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Could you please write #43 grandparents/neighbors one?

43. we’re having our family meal at my grandparents’ house this year so fingers crossed your parents still live next door and you grew up to be even hotter

from winter writing prompts here

oh god this one got so long. sorry everyone! thank you to @k-sci-janitor for the alien bit because it was so fucking funny

------------

Holidays have gotten a little weird to manage since Newt transformed into a fully-fledged adult with an apartment and a job and stuff, so while he hasn’t made it to the big Geiszler celebration in Germany every December since starting college out of elementary school, he still tries to make a point of dropping by his dad’s for dinner and a movie or something to fill his holiday quota. It’s fine by him; he loves his family, but they’re definitely overwhelming, and trying to submit final grades and work on syllabuses for the next semester all while distant relatives ruffle his hair and ask him when he’s going to hit his growth spurt is not his idea of a relaxing time. It’s a constant point of contention between him and his dad. This year more than most, apparently.

“Your grandmother misses you!” he tells Newt sadly over their Chinese takeout. “She calls me every week to ask how you are, and why you never visit with them. Every week.” He waves a fork at Newt. “You’re breaking her heart.”

“I’m in the lab, like, twenty-four-seven, dad,” Newt sighs. It’s a well-rehearsed conversation at this point, but it doesn’t get any less tiresome. Especially because he knows his dad is lying about the phone call thing—Newt is a great grandson and texts his grandmother plenty, thank you very much, he would know if he was breaking her heart. “I’m working straight through winter break this year. Seriously.”

“That’s what you did last year,” Newt’s dad says. “And the year before that…” Newt turns the volume up on the TV to cut his dad off before he can segue into the next part of his argument, which is (usually) that Newt needs to work on his personal life, maybe settle down, produce some grandkids of his own. Or at least adopt a cat. Also well-rehearsed.

He’s not sure why he says what he does next—maybe in a desperate attempt to distract his dad further. Maybe because of the sudden onslaught of childhood memories the mention of his grandparents’ house brought on. “Hey, do you remember that boy who used to live next door to grandma?” he says. “He had the weird haircut and always dressed kind of funny?” Old-fashioned, and a little too formal for the sort of things that little kids tend to do, climbing trees or playing in the mud—sweatervests and polished loafers and starched-white knee-highs.

Newt’s dad blinks at him. Newt half expects him to declare that Newt is nuts, and that he has no idea what he’s talking about, like this is one of those horror stories where the childhood friend turns out to be some ghost who died fifty years prior. The clothing would match up, he guesses. But he smiles in recognition a moment later. “You mean the Gottlieb boy?” he says.

“Gottlieb,” Newt echoes. It sounds familiar enough. “Hermann, I think. When I’d stay with grandma for the summer we would play together every day. I wonder what he’s doing now.” Hermann was a smart guy, a real geek like Newt; he used to carry a graphing calculator around in his pocket and build the most goddamn pristine model spacecrafts Newt had ever seen. Hermann’s dad shipped him off to a prestigious boarding school the last summer Newt spent there, when they were around twelve or so. Newt started at MIT not long after. “Dude’s probably designing rocket ships by now or something.”

“You could ask him yourself if you came with me,” Newt’s dad laughs. “The Gottliebs never moved away, and their children actually visit. I’m sure your Hermann visits, too.”

“Ha,” Newt says. “Yeah.”

It’s snowing by the time Newt and his dad finish their movie, and Newt (fearing his dad’s driving even in ideal conditions) declines the offer of a lift home to trudge his way through it to his T stop instead. It’s nice to have the chance to be alone with his thoughts, anyway, because he can’t seem to get funny little Hermann Gottlieb out of his head. What is he doing now?

A quick Facebook search on the train produces a few Hermann Gottliebs, but none of them promising—none of them have the brown eyes or strangely angular face (devoid of any baby fat even that young) Newt remembers, none of them are from the right German countryside, none of them went to a preppy English boarding school. Google (utilizing the information Newt does have) is a little more rewarding, and by the time Newt presses the button to request his stop, he’s scrounged up a decent amount of info: Hermann Gottlieb has a doctorate in astrophysics, Hermann Gottlieb publishes papers at a slightly terrifying rate, and Hermann Gottlieb turned out kinda hot.

As Newt stares down at a slightly grainy current photograph of his old friend—haircut and clothing unchanged, a cane in hand, some round librarian glasses perched on the end of his nose, wide mouth twisted into a scowl—he suddenly recalls another thing about Hermann Gottlieb: the summer Hermann was sent away to boarding school was the summer that Hermann kissed Newt goodbye, shyly and tearfully, under the shade of the tall maple tree in his yard. It was the last time Newt ever saw Hermann. It was Newt’s first kiss.

“Oh, boy,” Newt says.

He texts his dad when he gets back to his apartment. When do we leave?

Newt feels like the belle of the fucking ball when he steps into his grandparents’ house a week later, snow dusting his shoulders, small suitcase clenched in his hand. His cheeks are kissed; his scarf and hat and leather jacket are brushed off and tossed onto a coat rack; his hair is in parts smoothed down (too messy!) and ruffled (too flat!); he’s hugged more times than he has been in the entire last year, probably. “Still playing around with bugs in the dirt, eh, Newt?” his grandfather booms, tucking Newt into the crook of his arm with enough force to knock Newt’s glasses off.

“Actually,” Newt squeaks, scrambling for both what he remembers of his very rusty German, and his glasses before they can hit the ground, “entomology isn’t really my main focus at—”

“Newt’s studying jellyfish now,” Newt’s dad declares proudly. “He went on a diving expedition this July.”

“Diving? How exciting,” Newt’s grandmother says.

“Yeah,” Newt says. He pushes his glasses back on. “Yeah, it was fascinating, I was lucky to get the funding for it. You wouldn’t believe the sorts of—”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Newt’s cousin says.

“My little Newt’s a daredevil!” Newt’s dad says.

“It’s not that dangerous,” Newt says. “As long as you’re—”

“What happened to that nice man your father said you were dating?” Newt’s grandfather says. “With the, the what was it, the poetry? The poet? We thought you’d bring him!”

Newt flushes. Trust his dad to talk up some random guy Newt dated in March like it was a long-term affair and not an elongated one-night stand that fizzled out after three weeks. Though maybe that one’s on Newt—it’s not like he mentioned the one-night stand part to his dad, after all. He definitely didn’t mention that the guy ended it with a poem, too. “We broke up,” he says, weakly. He wriggles out from the throng of the crowd. “Look, it’s so great seeing you all, but I’m actually, like, really tired, soooooo…?”

“Oh, of course you are,” Newt’s grandmother says. She pats his head. “What a long flight you must have had! We’ll send someone up for you for dinner—you can have your old guest room.”

“Cool,” Newt says.

He scurries up the stairs.

The guest room he slept in during those summers is almost exactly the way he remembers it, but a little dustier—the floral quilt on the bed, his grandma’s sewing table crammed into the corner, the bookcase stocked with a weird combination of kid’s books and illustrated encyclopedias that Newt used to pore over for hours as a kid, often with Hermann. Newt draws back the embroidered curtains and peers out the window at the Gottliebs’ snow-capped house next door. Hermann’s window was directly across from his. It still is, technically, though the curtains (these navy blue and embroidered with little constellations) are pulled tight, and Newt has a feeling that Hermann hasn’t set foot in his old room in well over a decade. Two decades, probably.

He remembers the one summer he showed Hermann how to make a soup can telephone, and they managed to string it all the way across between their windows before discovering it kinda didn’t work as well as Newt said it would. He remembers when Hermann’s dad banned him from the Gottlieb house for tracking water all over their front hallway after he and Hermann went wading in the creek, but it was really Hermann who did it, because he forgot to take his shoes off and they got soaked, and Newt just took the fall for it so Hermann wouldn’t get in trouble. And when Hermann asked Newt to play astronaut with him, and Newt insisted on being an alien and mimed the chestburster scene from Alien, and Hermann freaked out so bad he fell in a mud puddle and got grounded for ruining his clothing, and Newt got grounded for that and for watching Alien when he wasn’t supposed to, and they spent the following few days staring sadly out across at each other before Newt’s grandma finally got tired of his moping and sent him to work weeding the garden. He remembers knotting a little friendship bracelet for Hermann out of embroidery thread he found in his grandmother’s sewing basket and Hermann vowing to keep it until he died.

Newt’s half of the soup can phone is still on the windowsill, though the string snapped and crumbled apart years ago. He picks at the peeling Chicken Noodle label, so distracted that he almost doesn’t notice the light suddenly seeping through at the edges of Hermann’s curtains, or the way they’re pushed open—almost.

Hermann—real, live, adult Hermann, botched haircut and round glasses and all—stares out at Newt with a shocked expression on his face. Newt drops the can with a clatter.

Then he waves.

“Hey, Grandma?” Newt says, poking his head into the kitchen. Tonight’s dinner is a massive pot of soup boiling away on the stovetop, dessert a mountain of cookies and tiny pastries on serving platters on the counters. Newt hasn’t had food that looked this good since he moved out, to be honest. The intersection of Newt’s sad lack of cooking skills and his attempts at vegetarianism means he eats a lot of boxed mac-and-cheese and frozen Vegetable Lovers’ pizzas. “Are you—?"

“Oh, Newt!” Newt’s grandmother says. She sets down her wooden spoon. “Are you feeling rested, then?”

“Yeah,” Newt says. “Grandma, I was wondering, could I—uh—maybe run some food over to the Gottliebs? To be…neighborly? We just have so much, and—”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Newt’s grandmother says. “They keep to themselves, mostly, but I can’t imagine they’d turn it down. You might even see your little friend again! What was his name? You were so fond of him.”

“Hermann,” Newt says, quickly shoving cookies into a red-lid plastic container. “Thanks, Grandma.”

He tucks the tupperware under his arm and nearly wipes out on the icy front path he runs to the Gottliebs’ so fast. Before he can so much as catch his breath and knock, their door swings open; Hermann, dressed in a tacky Hannukah sweater, arches an eyebrow at him. “I saw you sprint over here like a bloody madman,” he says, in blessed English. He must’ve remembered how shitty Newt’s German was when they were kids. “Hello, Newton. What’s so terribly important?”

His voice got deeper—expected—and he swapped out his German accent for an English one somewhere along the way. Probably at his stuffy boarding school. He also got taller—he’s got a few inches on Newt now, but Newt admits that’s not exactly hard. God, he’s even hotter in person. “Uh,” Newt says. Why is he here? Oh, right. He thrusts out the tupperware. “I brought some cookies over for you?”

Hermann peers down at the offering over his glasses. His forehead wrinkles. “How considerate,” he says. He pulls an olive-green parka on and steps out onto the porch, tugging the door shut behind him. He taps at a peeling porch swing with the end of his cane. “Just leave them there. Would you like to take a walk?”

It’s freezing, and snowing, but for some reason, a walk sounds like the best idea in the world right now. “Yes, please,” Newt says, and chucks the cookies onto the swing.

“I must say,” Hermann says, after their meandering walk around the Gottliebs’ yard takes them to the old maple tree. The branches are bare, but thick, and shield them from most of the falling snow. Hermann’s breath puffs out white in front of his angular face. The last time I stood here, Newt thinks, he kissed me. “I really did not expect to see you.”

“I didn’t expect to see you, either,” Newt admits. “From what I remember, you and your family weren’t—uh—well, very close. I didn’t think you’d be coming back to share in the holiday cheer with them, is what I mean.”

The corner of Hermann’s mouth twitches up. “That’s certainly one way of describing it. Yes, I suppose you’re right—my father is a bit of a bastard, isn’t he?” Newt laughs awkwardly, unsure whether to agree or attempt to weakly the defend a guy who openly hated him for being a bad influence on Hermann most of his childhood; he’s grateful when Hermann continues and saves him the choice. “This is the first year I’ve come home in a long while. My brother’s just had a daughter, you see, and I thought I should start getting used to playing uncle.”

“Oh, congrats,” Newt says. Hermann shrugs, and Newt has the distinct feeling that this is Hermann’s older brother, who used to dissemble Hermann’s telescope and hide the pieces around the house when Hermann annoyed him, and tattled on Newt and Hermann to Hermann’s parents the one time Newt snuck in to see Hermann after he got banned. He always made Newt thankful that he was an only child. “Same here, actually. Not the uncle thing—I mean I haven’t visited since I was in college. Too busy.”

“I know,” Hermann says, and then adds teasingly (in a way that makes color flood Newt’s cheeks and his heart beat just a little faster), “I’ve looked you up online. Er—quite a bit recently, in fact. I was curious. You’ve made quite the name for yourself, haven’t you, Dr. Geiszler?”

“I,” Newt squeaks, and then coughs. “I mean, I guess? I like…science.”

“I oughtn’t be surprised,” Hermann says. “You were always giving me bugs, and salamanders, and funny little frogs—”

Newt liked bugs, and salamanders, and frogs, but he liked Hermann more, and the gifts had a lot more to do with the latter than the former, because what kid wouldn’t want bugs or salamanders or frogs, right? Not that Hermann ever appreciated them—especially not the worms Newt would pluck from the sidewalks after rainstorms. He thinks he got grounded for that one, too, because his grandma wouldn’t believe that he really wasn’t trying to terrorize the poor Gottlieb boy. “And what about you?” Newt says. He pokes his elbow into Hermann’s side. “Dr. Gottlieb? Guess those model rockets paid off.”

(“No, Newton,” Hermann would snap at him on the rare occasions he would allow Newt to watch him piece one together, “the glue hasn’t dried yet. You have to be patient, or else it’ll fall apart.”)

“Not yet,” Hermann says, “but I hope soon.”

Hermann smiles at him. A snowflake catches in his eyelashes—his long, pretty, dark eyelashes. “Do you remember when you kissed me here?” Newt blurts out.

“It’s hardly the sort of thing I’d forget,” Hermann says. He reaches out and tucks a piece of Newt’s hair up into his hat. “I like your tattoos—I saw the photographs on your social media accounts. They suit you.” Newt wonders if this means Hermann saw the shirtless selfie he posted on Instagram. “I’m also pleased to see you’ve gotten your braces removed. It wasn’t a very pleasant experience last time.”

Then he leans in and kisses Newt. Again, technically. It’s so light and brief Newt hardly believes it even happened. Their glasses clack together, and when Hermann pulls away, he straightens out Newt’s.

“I confess,” Hermann says, “that I’m wholly pleased to see how you’ve turned out. I hope that wasn’t too forward of me. I’ve been thinking about doing it all night.”

“Jeez, dude,” Newt says, blinking at him, his head swimming just a little. Hermann looks smug. “Not, uh, not too forward. So. Uh. You wanna get dinner or something this week and catch up?”

Hermann snorts, and nods.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

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